O Canada, O Canada, we stand on guard for thee

National pride. I'm for it. At Lifestyle->Sports on Molson.com, this is the list of sponsorships:

1. "All six Canadian NHL teams as well as one U.S. team". (That U.S. team is the Detroit Red Wings, it sounds like it came free with the half dozen. NHL teams = day old doughnuts.) Pop quiz: can you name the six Canadian NHL teams? If not, please put down that honest brew. Answer at bottom.
2. The Canadian Junior Hockey League
3. Team Canada Hockey
4. Hockey Hall of Fame
5. NHLPA (National Hockey League Players Association for you warm weather folk).

Ask any college admissions officer. Well-rounded is so early 00's. It's about showing deep commitment to your one true passion. Like student government. Molson picked hockey, played the Canada card, and I soaked it up. Early acceptance! Full financial aid!

But, Molson, you have to be careful not to take it too far. There are times when someone says or does something so unbelievable that you just don't know how to respond. You stop for a minute and wonder if we're all on the same planet. Two examples come to mind:

1. The first time Mitalee visited my home, one of my THB-squared's was anxious to impress with his worldliness: "Oh, you're actually from India. That's where they have all the stray dogs, right?"

2. This fall, I arrived home to find an alarmed David Steinberg. For this conversation, substitute "handy" for "honest" in THB.

DS: "Dude, the light went out. I think we need to call an electrician."
THB: "Did you change the bulb?"
DS: "Oh."

Molson = Canada = Hockey + Beer. Hard to argue with that. Then, someone at Molson had one of those are-you-kidding moments. But they didn't just say it out loud. They printed it on their label.

Answer honestly: would you rather...give up sex for the rest of your life or watching hockey?

Well-

Tha-

I don't know what to say. I showed the bottle to someone. I swear it's real.

Extra stuff to amuse you since I can't add anything more to the main post

In a coincidence of epic proportions, a third stupid-comment example just occurred while I was writing this piece of the post, and I, THB, was the guilty party. "No!" you exclaim. But yes. DS and I are watching 24. (He is also blogging. I find this amusing. We are having a friendly conversation about 24 while I make fun on him on my blog and he likely makes fun of me on his blog.)

THB: I can't believe Jack is dying. (NB: he was just exposed to a deadly biological weapon).
DS: He can't die. There's a season 8.
THB: Well, maybe our hero Aaron Pierce will have to take his place.
DS: (Silence)
THB: (Grasping for the words that just escaped his mouth. Unsuccessfully.)
DS: I am not going to dignify that.

Damn it. Take Jack's place? Get serious, THB.

A list of Top 1's (starting with a couple related to our Northern Neighbors):

Top 1 national anthem in the world: Canada.

Top 1 thing about Canada: Table shuffleboard. This is a great table game involving finesse, strategy, touch, and even power at times. They love it in Canada because it's like curling.

Top 1 worst fast food meal: The McRib. Remember that thing?



Believe it or not, the history of the McRib is fascinating. It tested extremely well in Nebraska. Not surprising. But read the part about McDonald's simultaneously launching a McRib farewell tour and a Save the McRib fake-grassroots campaign.

Top 1 most useless person: A tie between those other two judges on American Idol. I don't know their names. You don't either. They're worthless and annoying and they always just agree with Simon anyway. With unemployment above 0% as it is today, these bums should be out of a job.

Top 1 music video I saw on Boston Sports Club TV this week: Paula Abdul's "Straight Up". A+! And, to this very day, it appears Paula insists on having things straight up. Like her pre-show drink or eight (ba-dump-a-dump).

Top 1 funniest article I've ever read on the internet: I realize this is no small Top 1. I have read lots of funny things on the internet. But this could be my #1.

This article came out after the Gillette Mach 3 and Schick Quattro challenged conventional thought on how many blades a man needs to finish off a close shave and have a disproportionately good-looking woman come stroke his face. But it came out two years before the Gillette Fusion! Unreal. I think someone at Gillette read this and thought: "This just might work".

Answer to the pop-quiz: Montreal Canadians, Toronto Maple Leafs (yes that's the plural), Vancouver Canucks, Edmonton Oilers, Calgary Flames, and Ottawa Senators.

The verdict is still out on Darwin, but Mendel knew his stuff

This morning, I sent my mom an email with my Sweet 16 picks (we do the tournament round-by-round in my house). I couldn't remember if I'd already sent them to her earlier in the week. I joked that this verifies I have her genes. My mom has a lousy memory. She once drove by a turn that she was supposed to take twice in a row. In retrospect, I'd rate this joke as a solid 0 out of 10. I'm not sure it even qualifies as a joke.

It dawned on me that this isn't even the best example of genetics in action. I thought I was original when I started this blog. Somehow I forgot that my dad has been the de-facto leader of the online fishing community for some time. He rules his domain from the best chair in our house, which he calls his throne and occupies almost always. At this point, it's not that throne, but I'm worried that transition may occur over time, especially with the prevalence of enlarged prostates, causing regular guys to need to use the restroom at all critical times (sporting events, photo opportunities, etc).

His moniker is "numbskull", and here's a link to his profile. I have to say I'm a little concerned about the short autobiography: "Usually skunked". I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound good. He has posted 2,770 times since joining in November 2005. That's a prodigious rate of about 2.7 posts per day. You know what the most remarkable part is? I couldn't really find any embarrassing material (unless you count a penchant for using little colorful smiley faces). To my surprise, he appears to be an upstanding online citizen.

Speaking on upstanding online citizens, look at the banner ad on StriperTalk by Markus. (If it's not the same as mine, then Big Brother Google has identified me as a creep.)

"My name is Markus and I created PlentyOfFish.com; my site is free and we created 800,000 relationships last year. The majority of users are professionals and users who are serious about meeting someone. If you are looking for someone, you may as well join us, we have millions of people and best of all we are free! You aren't going to meet anyone trolling supermarkets or bars."

A few notes:
1. 800,000 relationships. That number is more inflated then David Steinberg's page hit count, which he has attempted to bloat by putting a trick link to his own site in his latest Twitter-like excuse for a post.
2. Professionals. Hmmm, what profession?
3. Notice Markus does not identify the minority of users. I don't want to know.
4. The assertion that you won't meet anyone trolling in supermarkets or bars. Probably not. Trolling usually involves unwieldy tackle and live bait. But if you do meet someone under those conditions, it's love.

Here's a real profile from PlentyOfFish, entitled "Looking for that one bite". At first, I was skeptical about dread66. He doesn't look much like a fisherman (see photo). But his emotional side, revealed in the About Me, just hooks me! A snippet:

"Your fingertips touch and smooth my skin
As you pull my dreads so tenderly"

This gives me a new business idea. My last idea: Segway tours of New Orleans. I had the New Orleans tourism market cornered. We had just got off of a tour bus. It was packed. It was boring. The tour guide pointed out a Walgreens. Unfortunately, I later learned that someone beat me to the punch with Segway tours. I am hoping to trump all with the Deja Vu Segway Tour of New Orleans.



However, I have thus far been unable to secure a use agreement on the requisite government technology ("a time window and Einstein-Rosen bridge through seven satellites that allows Denzel to look back four and a half days in time"), which limits my competitive advantage. Here's the new idea: hobby-specific internet dating sites that require themed profiles.

Site 1: "Lack a hitting partner? At RallyMates.com, we know that love, like tennis, is a game for two. We'll help you find the partner that gives you the confidence and comfort you need to put all your shots deep in the court!"

Site 2: "Feeling more like a pawn than a king? Come to CheckMate.com, where you'll learn the strategy you need to stay on the board late into the game and corner the queen of your dreams."

Site 3: "In the gutter? Does she keep splitting? At OnlyStrikes.com, we'll straighten you out and put you in the perfect lane to bowl her over. All you have to do is remember the clean socks!"

Who's with me? If you have a government contact, we'll combine these themed sites with the Deja Vu Segway Tour. Just think: you take your date on the tour. You mess it up (you're an internet dater after all). But you're not done. Four and half days later, you re-do the tour and correct your mistakes. Or you just give up and take the Other New Orleans Deja Vu Tour.

Loyal fans, hold tight!

I hear your cries! It's been almost a week, and no new posts. You're wondering if you can even go on. You're wondering if you even want to go on.

Fans, I have not forgotten you. I won't bore you with excuses. I promise you: new posts are on the way. I will soon leave boring-busy-land and resume the fast, furious, steroid-enhanced posting that you have come to expect.

So step back from that ledge, my friend.

No easy buckets

Did you know Barack only has one 'r'? I almost made a big error. Anyhow, B-money's approval rating is dropping. This bothers me.

Where do they get these ratings? Who rates Barack poorly? I mean, what self-respecting American disapproves of a president who can do this:



Barack! Hamming it up with a little back stretch, a couple quick dynamic groin stretches. Then, splash! Kind of a herky-jerky old-man shot, but a bucket is a bucket in my 'hood. If you have a few minutes, read this article from Time. This is my favorite article about Obama. Heck, it's about more than Obama. It's about how you can tell if someone's a decent guy. And Barack gets the ultimate complement: "Your boy is straight, and he can ball."

Barack got a lot of press for picking his NCAA bracket. He was probably alt-tabbing between some important briefing and the live gamecast all afternoon. And I like that. I like imagining that my day was probably kind of like the top dog's:

8:00am: Arrive at client site.
8:05am: Read NBA Daily Dime on ESPN.com
8:10am: Check work email. See office pool for NCAAs
8:15am: Print bracket. Walk by coworkers to pick up suspicious single sheet of paper that does not appear to have come from any Microsoft Office program. Hold face down and walk away briskly like I'm in a big hurry.
8:16am: Begin filling in bracket.
8:21am: Shit. How did I end up with Purdue in the Elite 8? I think they start a white guy.
8:25am: Print bracket #2. Walk by coworkers to pick up second even-more-suspicious single sheet of paper. Positively speed walk out of the printer area.
8:27am: Faaaaaaack. This time I put Mississippi State in the Elite 8. Why can't I get this bottom left bracket looking half reasonable? I really should pick the final four and then work backwards.
8:30am: Stare at bracket open on computer. Can we print #3? I don't know.
8:45am: What if I print some random Powerpoint right afterward? Yeah, that'll work. Print random Powerpoint and copies #3 and #4 of bracket (adapt or perish).
9:00am: Done with bracket.
9:05am: How does a fax machine actually work? Who can I ask, seeing as I'm holding two brackets and we've passed the 9:00am threshhold?
9:15am: There's a young looking guy. Ok, 9-1-then the number. Face down. Thanks.
9:30am: Did Alexander Graham Bell make this fax machine? I could probably drive over and hand-deliver this bracket faster. And I wouldn't be standing next to a fax machine staring intently at the little fax progress screen.
9:35am: Ok, we're out.
9:40am: Coworker #1 starts filling his bracket. He puts Kansas in the Final 4. Start making fun of him.
9:50am: Kansas? Are you living in the past? Do you own a TV? Why don't you just drop your five dollars in the shredder box?
10:00am: Coworker #2 didn't know about the bracket. Now he's filling his in. A homer, taking alma mater UNC all the way. How's Lawson's ankle, huh? You willing to put your five dollars on it?

...

1:05pm: Alt-tab: Good start, LSU looking strong.
1:06pm: Alt-tab: Ooop, there's a complicated looking spreadsheet. =IF(ISERROR(VLOOKUP(B6,
1:07pm: Alt-tab: Atta boy, Thorton!
1:08pm: Alt-tab: Wait, what's that I see? Is coworker #2 watching, too? Game over. Alt-tab back.
2:05pm: Still watching. Left thumb and pinky in the alt-tab position, starting to cramp up

...

4:32pm: Undefeated! But, ooooh, Mississippi St is losing, which will completely kill my lower left corner. Gotta get to a real TV.

It makes me smile to think about Barack sitting in the Oval Office doing the same thing. Too bad that only ranks as the second most bad-ass thing a president has done in the Oval Office lately. That we know about.

Barack picked North Carolina to win it all. Coworker #2 is an avid North Carolina fan and informs me that Barack attended a North Carolina practice and participated. Tyler Hansbrough (nicknamed "Pyscho-T" because he talks to his biceps while he works out - I mean, who does that?) even let Barack take it to the rack for an uncontested lay-up.

The question: if you were Psycho-T (shudder at the thought, I know), would you...let Barack score an easy bucket or put an authoritative veto on his drive?

(Yes, I'm just making up my own questions at this point. I'm out of Molson Canadians and I'm pretty well lodged on Big Blue, my denim couch.)

Look, I understand that Pyscho-T was trying to have a sane, non-eye-bulging moment. That doesn't excuse it. No one - not even the president - is above the code.

Answer honesty: would you prefer...to be able to fly or to be able to eat any amount of food without getting full or sick?

Thanks to Mark, the head (oooohhh) of the in-flight crew on this evening’s Delta flight 1476, departing Atlanta at 2135 hours and arriving New Orleans’s Louis Armstrong airport at 2210 hours (no chance), I just learned that they’ll be showing short “Delta TV” program on my flight. Mark has some headsets, which I can purchase for a price of $2.00. And – listen to this – if I pull the trigger, I can use them on future Delta flights and with my own personal electronic devices. Mark! You should have mentioned what a deal I was getting sooner! It’s almost like I would own the headphones.

Wait a second, Mark. What’s the catch? Is it illegal to use these headphones on a friend’s personal electronic devices? Is there a punishment for using these hard-to-come-by audio devices on non-Delta flights? Would you seat me behind a fat guy who decides to recline his chair and uses his excess lard to get a little bonus recline, forcing me to balance my computer on my lap like a “V”, hunched over and typing like I have little raptor arms? It’s hard to imagine how miserable that would be…

Mark, you have a lot to learn as a salesman. You had me going. I was reaching for two crumpled Washingtons, and then you slip in the deal-breaker. I can use my headphones at no charge to me. Any implicit restrictions on where I can use my headphones? None. What charity! Sorry, Mark, forget your $2.00 headphones. I’ll enjoy this montage of outdated sitcoms on some non-Delts.

Change of subject: The guy next to me ordered a spicy tomato juice on the rocks. No hesitation. What the heck is spicy tomato juice? This man has the look of a distinguished gentleman, one who knows his way in the world. I thought: does this debonair fellow know something I don’t? And I ordered one myself, side of peanuts. Yuck! I mean, Jesus, yuck! Forget the hard stuff. With each sip of this STJ, I can feel hair growing on my back. Melt, rocks, melt. Help me out!

Small irony: the pack of “Fisher Party Peanuts” (it’s always a party when you cruise on Mark’s seven-four-seven with headphone happy hour) has a coupon on it. “Save fifty cents on any Fisher Snack Nut Item 5oz or larger.” When have you ever run into a pack of Fisher Party Peanuts that wasn’t (a) smaller than 5oz and (b) free on a Delta flight?

Two deep thoughts:
1. If I’m writing in Word without internet access, am I really blogging? Even if I plan to paste the results into my blog?

2. It’s challenging to put together a blog post without Wikipedia, Google Images, and YouTube. Nonetheless, like my main man (group? hard to know without Al Gore’s marvelous creation) J5 said:
“I’m taking it back to the concrete [text].
Original [sentences], real live [ideas].
The playground tactics, rabbit-in-the-hat tricks.
Mumble mumble ah-icks”


That brings me to a reader question. Would you prefer…to be able to fly or to eat any amount of any food without any adverse health effects or feeling sick?

On one hand, a superhuman power. On the other, the properties of my stomach from when I was fifteen. The unknown vs. the known. Tough question. The iron stomach is, quite frankly, awesome. On my fifteen year old stomach’s curriculum vitae, we have

1. Pregame lacrosse meal at Steve’s Pizza in Falmouth, MA. Four dollars, all-you-can-eat, greasy American pizza. The kind with a half inch thick crust and a half inch thick crust of cheese. The kind that, on the first slice, you take a napkin and mop off the grease. The napkin is instantly orange and translucent. You move onto a fistful of napkins and pound away because that’s the only way to bring the temperature lower than the sun’s. Then, you bid adieu to the roof of your mouth, and bite in. After slice 1, you dispense with the grease mopping. What’s the point?

Sans peer pressure or impromptu eating contests, my fifteen year old stomach canned nine slices. Hey, THB’s fifteen year old stomach, what did you wash that down with? Some Sprite? Water? Two chocolate milks.

No one pushed me around in the game. That’s not true. My fifteen year old stomach processed the meal without any noticeable effect on mass or mobility. In fact, at halftime, my fifteen year old stomach refueled with – not oranges – Oatmeal Crème Pies, among the densest materials known to mankind.

2. Easter Brunch at the Flying Bridge Restaurant in Falmouth, MA. A classy performance in a semi-classy venue. You know what Easter is like: white tablecloths, all patrons dressed in their finest pastels, the local sk8er bois waiting tables in white tuxedo dress shirts. Easter brunch is for families (except for the two to three lone wolves at the bar sucking down Bloody Marys), and it’s (again) all-you-can-eat. I’m not proud to admit that my grandparents were on hand for this mauling.

We’d all battled long and hard against the buffet. My fifteen year old stomach had already mowed through a cornucopia of rich food: ham, roast beef, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, homefries, pasta with pesto cream sauce, and – everyone’s favorite – two Eggs Benedict. The dessert table tensed up, fearing the wrath of my fifteen year old stomach. The normal food tables breathed a deep sigh of relief. And that’s when my fifteen year old stomach switched back into attack mode, inhaling up two more EBs – shining white ovulets, in English muffin boats, adrift in a sea of cheese sauce, with a life preservers fashioned of ham (EBs inspire me to poetry) - to the wide-eyed horror of my grandparents, who had lived an honest god-fearing life in which mere mortals cannot guzzle un-hatched chickens drenched in cheese sauce at such a dizzying pace. Their gaping eyes asked: four? My fifteen year old stomach shrugged and wandered off to find the dessert table.

If Madden had rated my fifteen year old stomach, it would have gotten the following ratings:
Overall: 96
Starting volume: 87
Ability to expand beyond full capacity: 100
Iron-ness: 100
Speed: 98

An overall 100? The Tom Brady of stomachs, yours for keeps? That would be wonderful.

You might have gathered: I’m not in the most jovial of moods about flying right now. Flight, flying, airplanes, airborne, “The Air Up There”, Sugay Ray, “I stay fly-eye-ya-yai-ya-yai-ya-yai-yai”. Not right now (or ever again, in the case of the last one). I mean, on the surface, human flight seems like a dream come true. But let’s dig a little deeper. The cannon of popular culture gives a clear warning: “You got [human flight], you got a responsibility…You don’t just give up. You get out there, [fly around,] and [save tons of] f-ing [people]” (“Billy Madison”, minute 26).

Five for Fighting touches on the stereotyping that accompanies human flight in their formerly Buzzworthy song about Superman: “I’m more than a man, a silly red cape, I’m more than mumble mumble out in the mumble. It’s not easy. To. Be. Me.” When these lyrics entered my fifteen year old ear canals, I knew that these five almost-middle-aged guys (who are in favor of brawls) really understood my angst. I may not have been superman, but it wasn’t (sob) easy (sob) to be me either.

Finally, we have “Hancock”. I didn’t see this. You shouldn’t see this. If ever a terrible film has been released to make some dolla bills even though everyone involved knew it was terrible, this is it. But the previews get the message across: Will/Hancock is cracking under the pressure that comes with being able to fly. I mean, think about all the stuff people are going to ask you to do. You can’t just sit around and stuff your face. Play that Sublime song: “Riots on the streets of Long Beach. Riots on the streets of ”. Everyone would call you. Now you can fly. But you can’t be in twenty cities at the same time. And you can’t diffuse riots. Suddenly, you’re a big disappointment.

In short, I don’t want to have anything in common with Hancock, except potentially the ability to get jiggy wit it if I find myself in a club.

Appendix: Why I hate popular culture oftentimes

Hancock. And Britney’s new song “If You Seek Amy”. Pronounced “F-U-C-K me”. Yup. That’s where we are.

My often-time hatred for popular culture really developed in junior high. When someone says “OMG have you heard so-and-so’s new song? It’s sooooo good” and they act like they are Chris Columbus discovering the new world, I get angry. Maybe it’s because I have never heard this new song. I’m still on the song from last week. I updated my AOL profile favorite quotes to “A little bit of you makes you me a man” too late. Lou What’shisface and “Mambo Number Five” were already on their descent into anonymity. “Country Grammar” was the in vogue. People probably send instant messages behind my back with little laughing (at me) smiley faces. And then asked each other who they like right now. I’ll tell you if you tell me first. No, I’ll say and then you won’t tell me. Yes I will. No you won’t. Where did the last four hours go?

Product review: Seabiscuit audio book. This gets full THB backing. Five Bros or whatever. It was so enthralling that I almost ran out of gas. Seabiscuit was about to race his arch rival War Admiral one-v-one. They were determining who gets the key inside starting position. If Seabiscuit didn’t get it, he would be handicapped as War Admiral has famously fast breaking speed and would secure the inside track. The gas light in my Pontiac G6 rental made a beep when it came on. I was aggravated. What was f-ing with my listening experience? Thank goodness it did. I was forty miles from home and no immediate plans to stop for gas. None whatsoever.

I cried at the end. I was cruising down the Mass Pike in tears. The ending was so glorious, so triumphant. It’s times like these that I’m glad THB masks my real identity.

Second product review: Delta cookies: Four bros out of five. They aren't bad.

Breakfast All Day

Last summer, I was out in thriving Western Pennsylvania, which I have capitalized since it has its own Wikipedia page. I don't know how it got its own Wikipedia page. The average age of the population is "old". The major industry in the region is collecting social security checks. Who's out there in Western PA whipping up Wikipedia pages? Who even told Western PA about the Internet?

Anyhow, my brothers (THB-squareds) and I were looking for some breakfast around 1300 hours. We needed a place that served breakfast all day. Denny's, I thought. But find a Denny's we could not. Don't ask me how we couldn't find a Denny's - they outnumber people in the region - but somehow we couldn't. VFWs? Check. Flea markets? Aplenty. Oldsmobiles? Ubiquitous (thank you, Princeton Review). But no Denny's.

Aside: "Hey, what about a local diner?" you might ask. You've never been to Western PA. Chains only. Same with the Cincinatti area. Civil engineering doesn't require a degree in either of these places. It's more like a half hour seminar. Build one big wide straight road. Then, turn on your TV and build every commercial. Every single one. Home Depot, Walmart, PepBoys, McDonald's, BK, Wendy's, Applebee's, Chili's, Papa John's etc. Even freaking Red Lobster. This model of civil engineering is the only explanation for how there are as many Red Lobsters as there are.

Then, lo and behold, an oasis in the desert:



We don't have Perkins in the northeast. Yet. But when I saw this visage, I immediately thought: "That's a breakfast-all-day place if I've ever seen one". The nice green and white striped awning. The "Family Restaurant" moniker. Had to be a breakfast all day joint. I mean they sure aren't selling enough "Seafood Sensation" to stay open. I hope. I popped open the menu, and what do I see scrawled across the top? "Breakfast. Served all day!". Like heavily commercialized pop music to my ears.

I hope Perkins expands to the northeast. I'm worried that Perkins is not expanding though. I'm worried that Perkins is contracting, or that Perkins went out of business in the late 1970's but the news never reached Western PA. In any case, Perkins has a few features that make it a prime breakfast all day venue:

1. "Mammoth muffins". When you're in breakfast all day mode, you don't want a puny muffin. You want a puny muffin when you're in trying-to-kind-of-be-healthy mode. Then you can pretend a small butter-sponge is good for you with arguments like "it's full of bran" or "it has fruit in it". Perkins doesn't mess around. There's a weight watchers forum on the danger of Perkins muffins. Contributor momof3rugratz (she uses "z" liberally, as you'll see) has two thoughts on whether to eat the Perkins muffins that the inquisitor's sister brought home:

03-26-2005, 12:50 AM
:) Toss them to the dogz and back way far far way

03-31-2005, 01:07 AM
Bran muffins to me I thinkgive u gas. I have had them 3 times each time my poor tummy.

That's a muffin.

2. When you order anything on the menu, you get everything. Want eggs? Comes with a side of pancakes. Want pancakes? Comes with a side of eggs and bacon. Want a seafood sensation? No you don't.

3. They have a bakery in the restaurant for desserts.

4. It has the same name as my favorite member of the Celtics starting five: Kendrick Perkins. Why do I love Kendrick Perkins? Kendrick Perkins's mentor is Kevin Garnett, who's completely and utterly insane. Some announcer once said that Kendrick Perkins is a monster of KG's creation:



Kendrick Perkins has a scowl on his face at all times. He doesn't just scowl when things go wrong. He scowls when they go right, too. I'm sure he was scowling during the video, but unfortunately the camera didn't catch it.

This brings me to the main point. Kendrick Perkins needs a nickname. Each of the other members of the starting five have nicknames. Ray Allen = Jesus (Shuttlesworth). KG = The Big Ticket = The Kid (I suppose KG is a nickname of sorts as well). Paul Pierce = The Truth.

Aside: How did Paul Pierce get a nickname as awesome as The Truth? After the Celtics beat the Lakers 112-107 on the ides of March, 2001, Shaq (then a Laker) pulled a reporter aside and said: "Take this down. My name is Shaquille O'Neal and Paul Pierce is the (expletive) truth."

Rajon Rondo = ET.




Three Celtics bench players even have nicknames. Glen Davis = Big Baby. Stephon Marbury = Starbury. Brian Scallabrine = The White Guy. It's time we got Perk a nickname.

Take this down. I'm The Honest Bro and Kendrick Perkins is (expletive) Breakfast All Day.

Wait. His name is Kendrick Perkins, and Perkins is a restaurant where they serve breakfast all day. That's it? Basically. But there's a little more. Kendrick is pear-shaped and has a sort of sloth-like mannerism. He is a man, I imagine, who quite often does not wake up in time for breakfast at a traditional hour. Plus, Kendrick would appreciate Perkins's mammoth muffins. Proportionally, a mammoth muffin for Kendrick would be akin to a normal muffin for me. Kendrick does not like undersized items. Here's an example, which happens to be the complete Personal section of his Wikipedia page:

"Perkins is a practicing Roman Catholic.[3] He was an altar boy in his youth, and it was often problematic to find an alb to fit him due to his height."

Breakfast All Day. B-A-D. Try it on for size. It works well in many basketball scenarios.

Block: "Bam! Have a pancake!" Or: "Breakfast is served!"
Dunk: "Breakfast ALL DAY!"
Assist: "Side dish!"
Jump shot: Kendrick Perkins does not shoot jump shots.
Ejection: Make a mental picture of this:



Appendix: Two tidbits from Wikipedia and one shameless brag

From Wikipedia:

1. KP's Wikipedia page lists his role as the team's enforcer.

2. Perkins was involved in an unusual scenario in the final seconds of regulation in Game 6 of the 2005 Eastern Conference first round against Indiana, Paul Pierce was ejected but Pierce was owed free throws because he had been fouled before the ejection. Under NBA rules, Indiana coach Rick Carlisle chose to select Perkins (who had not played in the game) off the bench to shoot the crucial free throws (the game was tied). Perkins missed both, indirectly leading the game going into overtime, in which the Celtics eventually won.

Shameless brag:

On their return to trivia night, the aptly named "Back like Jordan wearing the four-five" (which the DJ turned into "four to five" at one point, obviously not thinking of how difficult it would be to wear a range of numbers) emerged victorious. The victory was not without peril.

BLJWTF-F was tied for the lead at the end of the third quarter at 69 points. They missed only one two point question through the fourth quarter, yet found themselves down by eight heading into the final two questions. That's mathematically impossible, but not mathematically impossible enough to throw throw BLJWTF-F off their game. Betting the maximum amount of 10 points on each of the final two questions, BLJWTF-F sealed the victory with two clutch correct answers, bringing their score to an astronomical 128 points.

Unfortunately, BLJWTF-F did not claim the award for coolest team name. That went to "My couch pulls out but I don't".

Post match interview with BLJWTF-F enforcer David Steinberg:

THB: Strong performance, you must feel great.
DS: You're on the team, too. So you know how it feels.
THB: Heck yeah I am. We played trivia every week for the whole fall, and the best we did was fourth place. We rarely broke 100. What made the difference tonight?
DS: The absence of Armeen P. Think about it. This is the only time he didn't come.
THB: Interesting angle. So Armeen P's effect on our team is roughly negative 30 points. Anyway, how will you celebrate?
DS: I was going to use the gift certificate we won. But you taped it to the wall, and I'm not sure we're going to be able to get all the tape off without ripping it.
THB: Well, good luck with that. And great work out there.

FMoDscars

FMod = Free Movies on Demand. If you're not familiar with this section of your cable box, it could be bad sign. You might be a person who always thinks they're really busy all the time. Once you take a brief timeout, you'll realize most people hate you.

Aside: Someone once told me that the Chinese sign for "busy" is a combination of the signs for "heart" and "dead". If that's true, it would support my previous point. But I'm skeptical because (a) the person who told me was from Cape Cod and (b) if you ask me, there's a whole lot of BS translations (transliterations?) of Chinese signs flying around out there. The only person I'd really trust to translate a Chinese sign is a tattoo artist. "Oh is that really the sign for 'Star Princess'? It looked different in the Oxford Chinese-English dictionary. What, you say the dictionary is wrong? Ok...yeah, right there on my lower back. Great."

Or you could just be someone who can afford movie channels, Netflix, or real on demand. In any case, here are the top five films you're missing:

(Note: "Hackers" belongs on this list, but I omit it in this list since I spent so much time talking about it last time.)

Honorable mention: 3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain



I'm 99% sure this belongs on the real list (if only for the title). But I've never been able to get past the first ten minutes (I've tried three times). This is Hulk Hogan playing a character named Dave Dragon. Dave is rich and crazy (it's good acting from Hulk). In the first ten minutes, he kicks the crap out of a few of his servants for no reason. I wish I could tell you what happened in the rest.

5. Sniper



The tagline is "one shot, one kill, no exceptions". Veteran sniper Tom Berenger has to teach some young softie what being a sniper is all about. Besides the "one shot, one kill" mantra, Berenger passes along such gems as:

"Ain't no room for Peter Pan on this hunt."
Or "Don't take a piss. Bugs will swarm up through your d***. Good night."

It's a classic plot, lacking just that bit of tact that would land it on the vaunted Blockbuster shelves.

4. Mean Guns

I'm just going to give you the plot synopsis straight out of IMDB:

"A gangster boss (Ice-T) has a list of about 100 people who have screwed up at one point or another. Rather than outright killing them, he decides to have a little fun by putting all of them together in a high security prison, unarmed, and dumping bucketfulls of guns, ammo, and baseball bats on them and letting them kill each other. The final three who survive are given a prize of 10 million dollars. Let chaos reign."

Ice-T's character is named Vincent Moon. The self-proclaimed "ultra cool opening to Mean Guns" is apparently so raw that I'm not allowed to embed it. Here's a link. It sets the stage for the high drama that follows.

3. Surviving the Game



This is a whole different ball of wax. Ice-T shows his versatility. Whereas he orchestrated the murder game as Vincent Moon in "Mean Guns", here Mr. T shows his range, playing the prey of the manhunt. Initially.

Because the manhunters didn't just send any old homeless guy into the Montana wildnerness without any food, water, or weapon. They sent Ice-T as homeless Vietnam vet Jack Mason, who "knows he's going to die someday. But today is not that day". Nor is the next day, as we find out after he's forced to spend the night in the wilderness.

Judging by the life expectancy of the homeless (especially those who are about 50 years old and likely used a lot of drugs in Vietnam), Jack's day is not actually that far off. But fortunately he hung in there long enough to give us this "TNT presents" epic.

Along with two of the top five, Ice-T also bags the FMoDscars Lifetime Acheivement Award for having all of his films appear on FMoD simultaneously. Implying there was a point when no one was willing to pay to watch a single Ice-T movie.

2. Maximum Overdrive!

Emmmmmmmmmmmmiiillllllliiiiiiiiiiiooooooooooooooooooooooo. This was almost numero uno. Machines turn on humans, but fortunately Emilio is there to save the day. From his post as a short-order chef in a truck stop. He's got an earring.

We, the viewers, know it's on like Donkey Kong when an ATM switches from having a normal "Deposit, Withdrawal, Enter Pin" ATM screen to a screen that says, simply, "F*** you".

The people in the movie aren't as quick on the uptake. Or as swift in flight.



What you see at the beginning of this clip is a rain of Coke cans. The Coke machine (not pictured) just finished off some other numbskull who stuck his face in front of the dispense area. You see the Coke machine unloading what's left in its clip.

1. Hard Target



You might pick up on the fact that this has the exact same plot as "Surviving the Game". Substitute JCVD for Ice-T. A few things put it in the top slot:

1. That silky, luscious mullet.
2. The iron-like strength of the girl's near uni-brow.
3. The mummy from The Mummy, with hair.
4. The villian's move at the 8:56 point of this clip. Start it around 8:30 (sorry, this scene is only available in the larger clip). I think this is my favorite clip in any movie ever. To set the backdrop, the crew who's trying to kill JCVD just let him escape somehow. Now he's slipped away into the Bayou (where he was born), and the bad guys are worried they won't be able to catch him.



Hey random minion who's not really responsible for this screw-up at all: "Get in the f-ing truck!"

Answer honestly: would you prefer to...ride a skateboard everywhere or rollerskate everywhere?

Yes, this question is real. Somewhere, in the depths of the Molson corporation, there are two guys: Guy A, who came up with this question, and Guy B, who saw the question and thought: "Like it".

Quick aside: Is there just one guy who thinks these questions up and decides which ones to put on the bottle? If so, Guy B needs to enter the picture quick. Could there be more than two guys on this task? If so, real life = The Office, and Dunder-Mifflin might be better at selling paper than Molson is at coming up with either-or questions. You might also ask: how do I know Guys A and B (and any other alphabetic guys) are guys? Trust me, they are.

A few observations:

1. Guy A and Guy B are at least 50 years old. I mean, "ride a skateboard"? I don't think anyone has ridden a skateboard in the last 10-15 years. Try "skateboard". And rollerskate? When I just typed "rollerskate", it appeared underlined in red. I think dictionary editors, who have a real pulse for the times, removed that one following the 1950's.

I just took a quick spin through Molson's web page. Here's Big Important Guy, who heads up Molson's marketing. About what I expected. Big Important Guy, at their HQ in Montreal: "That's what those young-uns are into these days, eh? Whatever happened to tapping a solid pine for a drip of maple syrup. We were all abooot that in my day." (Yes, "eh" and "abooot" were all I could come up with to rip on Canadians. Not my best work.)

2. Bring the question into this millenium. Still, skateboarding vs. rollerblading? Most beer-drinkers have graduated to driving cars. Are they going for the same target audience as Mountain Dew? Namely, that spoiled 12 year old with the brand new Airwalks whose mom always packed him Doritos or Cheetos in his lunch. Kid, please don't lick that neon orange cheese residue of your fingers. Please don't do it. Oh man! You did it! Here, wash it down with a Molson. Yeah, sorry, all out of Dew.

3. On Saturday, I visited Armeen P's unbelievably non-humble abode. His dog Chip needed to use the bathroom and almost chose to do so on Armeen P's porch. In the nick of time, Armeen P chased Chip into the lawn. However, a nugget had peaked it's head out of Chip's (non-bleached, I think), errrr, a-hole. Forget skateboarding or rollerblading. Not Xtreme in this day and age. Nugget-half-out-racing? That's Xtreme. ESPN could combine the X Games and the Outdoor Games on this one.

"Stuart, which lab do you think will make it further?"
"I don't know, Kenny. The consistency of Chip's nug looks a little soupy from here, and I think that's going to cost him down the stretch."
"Astute. I didn't realize you were even looking at the race."

Irony: at the midpoint Armeen P's recent party, he moved all the guests downstairs. Why? Let's just say 60 minutes opened his eyes to some new extra-curriculars - see previous post.

So what's the answer? If you don't know, you haven't explored the Free Movies on Demand (FMoD) section of your cable box (like Big Important Guy, who's distressed by the end of analog TV). Because there's an FMoD classic that's basically dedicated to answering this question. Meet "Hackers". Starring Johnny Lee Miller as Dade (with two hacker aliases, "Zero Cool" and "Crash Override") and, oh yes, Angelina Jolie (with hacker alias "Acid Burn").

Watch closely. At 0:37, you get a fleeting glimpse of the arcade where Zero Cool/Crash Override and Acid Burn hang out. Yes, it has built in ramps to allow easy access on rollerblades. At 1:12, take note of the villian's mode of transportation. We get a candid glimpse into Zero Cool/Crash Override and Acid Burn's dating life at the 1:47 mark. Pick you up at 8? No need, I have my own ride. Finally, hackers of the world unite - in their mode of transport anyhow - in a brief clip at 2:10.



I agree, Angelina should have kept both the boy-cut and the "Acid Burn" moniker. What's the lesson? Skateboarding = evil. Rollerblading = the future. And the future has never looked better. Especially when you see Dade the Blader (my preferred nicknamed over Zero Cool/Crash Override - it almost rhymes) and Acid Burn's intense aquatic make-out session

Sorry, it's against my religion to embed two Hackers clips in a single post. This is good though. Fast forward to the 1:20 or so mark. My main man, Dade the Blader locks it up my hacking into the city's power grid and programming the city lights to say "Crash and Burn". Cue some really nice background music ("Love you today" is the refrain, and there's some feathery electronic instrumentation.) And them blam! Mashing face!

Check your FMoD - it's worth the hour and a half. Or, it appears you can watch this movie on YouTube in 11 segments. Hackers must have pirated the video! Can Warner Bros really be upset? It's the future they imagined, sort of.

This post got me thinking about two things: (1) terrible movies and (2) awesome nicknames. Accordingly, you have two posts to look forward to: (1) FMoD Oscars and (2) the christening of a new nickname for my favorite Celtic, Kendrick Perkins. It's better than "Beast". In my opinion.