I'm currently sitting in front of my mom's fancy brand new computer with an oversized screen and fast-as-all-hell Internet and reminiscing about the glories of Christmas in Cincinnati. First off, staying at my mom's house is the equivalent to a luxurious vacation. I have an unlimited amount of treats awaiting me each and every time I come into town. For instance, I arrived around 5 PM on Wednesday with a hankering for LaRosa's. I walked in, suggested it, and was stuffing my face an hour later. Her appreciation for seeing both me and my brothers has ratcheted up significantly in the past few years, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to take advantage. Maybe "take advantage" is the wrong way to say it. Um, let's instead say enjoy the countless amenities my mother provides. There, that's better.
Sitting in the Northside Tavern on Christmas Eve with some close friends, we came to the obvious conclusion that Christmas has lost all its luster. Who knew this could ever happen? I have no real interest in getting presents and basking in the glory of the holidays. Instead, I'm most excited to sit at a bar (like the Northside Tavern) with close friends and discuss how Christmas has become more of a reason instead of a result. I'm cool with this development of a semi anti-Christmas sentiment. Number one, I knew it would happen eventually. No big shock. Number two, it still gives everyone a reason to truck into town, get drunk at old haunts, reflect on the past year with rarely seen friends, make plans to visit one another (knowing you never actually will), and eventually continue on your own merry way. I love this about the holidays (for real). Number three, the trite and cheeseball frills of the holidays aren't as prevalent as they once were because you've diligently worked the past few years at surrounding yourself with equally jaded and sarcastic friends and family members. Definitely the best part.
My stomach anticipates the coming of Christmas and New Year's Eve and rallies to house as much shit food and alcohol it can possibly handle. It then refuses to tolerate any such action throughout the rest of the year (just ask the last couple of camping trips I've been on). I can only assume it's some type of camel-like quality that provides me with supernatural strength and intelligence throughout the following year. Seems like the most obvious answer.
Okay, I'm heading back to watch snippets of A Christmas Story (without ever actually seeing it in its entirety) and eat homemade chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. Happy holidays and all that.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Albums of 2009.
It's that time of the year again. Time for my annual "Best Albums" feature where I act like I'm knowledgeable and insightful when it comes to discussing current music trends. Sounds like a fun game, right? It's inevitable that I will leave off several notable albums this year, but if I can't remember them off the top of my head, then they're not really worth noting (for the most part). I glanced back at last year's list and realized that I was completely right on all counts. So, why would this year be any different? I'm both a year older and a year wiser. This was a spectacular year of releases, so I'm bumping it up a notch from last year and giving you my 15 top albums of 2009, in no particular order (I think).
1. Converge - Axe to Fall - This gets my vote for album of the year for three reasons. First, Converge is one of my all-time favorites, and they can do no wrong. Second, this album runs step for step with the quartet's masterpiece, Jane Doe, which is a lofty statement to say the least. Third, Converge went on an inspired face-melting mission and guitarist Kurt Ballou hitched a ride on a dream cloud to the Xanadu of brutal riffage and bought a townhouse there. The first five songs are reason enough to worship this onslaught of sonic dynamite. Fucking brilliant.
2. Pissed Jeans - King of Jeans - Surlier, dirtier, and louder than Hope for Men, complete with an endearing basement show ambiance of sweat, blood, and booze. You can practically feel the spit from the slurs and growls of frontman Matt Korvette. It's the kind of performance that reminds me of an overly exerted, red-faced singer puking in the corner after practically killing himself while attempting to entertain 18 kids at a shitty bowling alley basement show. All out, all the time.
3. St. Vincent - Actor - I'm in love with Annie Clark, and she's in love with me, or so I repeatedly tell myself (over and over and over). Regardless of our passionate love for one another, her shining album as St. Vincent is a meandering trail of sugary yet astute indie rock that isn't afraid to get messy and noisy from time to time. Clark is the quintessential bandleader, with a talent for beautiful quirk and a charismatic charm that could persuade me to eat a heaping bowl of dirt.
4. Fuck Buttons - Tarot Sport - This Bristol duo ditched much of the abrasiveness from its debut, Street Horrrsing, and produced a haunting soundtrack of noise that builds ominous beat upon ominous beat as snippets of sound ricochet from one quadrant of a song to another. The album's personality is the equivalent to the perfect sci-fi horror movie scene, littered with blood thirsty aliens probing petrified victims with eight-foot long needles beneath blinding spotlights. The climactic closing track, "Flight of the Feathered Serpent," is goddamn chilling.
5. Sleepy Sun - Embrace - A hearty slice of stoner rock pie. This sextet doesn't attempt to disguise their certain Sabbath allegiances, which is actually kind of refreshing. I saw these guys in an intimate theatre with seating. Although they were slightly off-put by playing to 35 seated concertgoers, it didn't temper their charming enthusiasm. Fuzzed-out, weed-scented guitar licks galore, with Rachel Williams (who can straight fucking bellow) and Bret Constantino's vocals casually strolling alongside. A good trip.
6. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion - I loved the audacity Stereogum exhibited when it named this the album of the year directly after it's release way back in January. Seems brash, presumptuous, and just a little fucking ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, the readers elected it album of the year in Stereogum's recently published Best of 2009 Extravaganza. Of course they did. Either Stereogum dangled a mutant-sized carrot in front of its impressionable readers' faces for 11 months, or I'm calling a goddamn conspiracy. I mean, who wants to turn around and see his own foot in his ass? All that being said, the album does in fact dominate.
7. Box Elders - Alice and Friends - Poppy low-fi garage goodness with a Dead Milkmen-like charm. This album is by no means mind-blowingly spectacular, but it's so damn fun that I can't deny it from this list. I feel like I've missed seeing these guys something like eight times (they're always coming through Chicago), and I'm reminded of my brazen stupidity each time I spin this album. Mindless, head-bobbing good times.
8. Baroness - Blue Record - While Red Album proved to be Baroness's coming out party, it lacked cohesion. This album, though, is an equal-part batter of metal doom riffs, transcendent melodic guitar, guttural and fiery vocals, and intricate, shitstorm drumming. It has eerie valleys and triumphant peaks abound, and there are unusual moments where it sounds like I'm being chased by gaggles of demonic trolls. Currently the best prog-ish metal band calling the state of Georgia home (in case you didn't know, Mastodon's from Atlanta).
9. Double Dagger - More - These guys pair perfectly with a sweaty and sticky art space show that has a fridge full of dollar PBRs, a 20-minute bathroom wait, and thin clouds of smoke hanging just overhead (I experienced this dream setting over the summer). Bass, drums, vocals, and enough frenetic energy to make a five-year old shit right through his pants. Is it just me, or does Baltimore have an outstanding music scene?
10. Bat for Lashes - Two Suns - I cheat on St. Vincent's Annie Clark with Natasha Khan of Bat for Lashes. That's just how shit rolls, ya know? They both understand. Plus, Khan's albums are spells. They literally sound like a benevolent sorcerer concocted them, sprinkling sprite dust and unicorn ashes over each tune. Two Suns is enchanting and daze-inducing. Check out the video for "What's A Girl to Do" off of her debut Fur & Gold and convince me you're not mesmerized. Sounds like magic.
11. Magik Markers - Balf Quarry - The apparent u-turn that was 2007's Boss proved to be the fantastic realization of a newly mapped route as duo Elisa Ambrogio and Pete Nolan moved toward more structured ways of songwritng. Balf Quarry continues in that direction with drone noises and blips loosely held together by Ambrogio's ominous, echoed vocals and Nolan's rudimentary drumming. Once you think you're contently dazing off (see "State Number"), the album inflicts multiple blows to the solar plexus (see "The Lighter Side of...Hippies"), leaving you disoriented by the album's polarity, but still quite content.
12. Dan Deacon - Bromst - Heard this story before? A classically trained electronic musician (whatever that means) who wears garish neon clothing, seems to barf arty bullshit, and looks like he'd molest your children? That's Dan Deacon, alright. I respect ambition, and Deacon's got so much it makes him seem like a pretentious, holier than thou fartbag. The simple fact is that the man is a talented whatchamacallit, and this album is a swirling grab bag of electro-excellence. Critics have called it "darker" than Spiderman of the Rings. Whatever. It's still a fun romp and makes me feel like I'm forever jumping on a moonbounce inside an abandoned Chuck E. Cheese.
13. Lightning Bolt - Earthly Delights - I shouldn't really have to go into much detail here. Uhhh . . . there was a new Lightning Bolt album this year--the first since 2005's Hypermagic Mountain. It's fucking Lightning Bolt. No drastic shift musically. They still sound like the apocalypse. Lightning Bolt, fuck.
14. Future of the Left - Travels With Myself and Another - With enough piss and vinegar to drown a little league baseball team, the Welsh trio's sophomore album expands on the ferocity and simplistic crunch of 2007's Curses with a scorcher of middle-finger-right-up-in-your-asshole-face punk rock. No longer stuck in the "ex-Mclusky" pigeonhole, Future of the Left has rightfully secured its own identity and the splendidly volatile mixture of anthemic jaunts coupled with pissed-off, snarly poundings prove that the Welsh boys are worth looking up.
15. Wye Oak - The Knot - This is the third Baltimore band/artist on my list. What the fuck is up, Charm City? Anyway, there's just something adorable and endearing about this indie rock duo. Since their debut If Children, Jenn Wasner's vocals matured with a heartfelt soulfulness and the cultivated songwriting now peeks into rooms of complexity, working with cascading melodies and almost tangible emotion. Wye Oak reminds me of eating a giant banana split sundae at an ice cream parlor on a dreary spring day and watching an unaffected dude break up with his sobbing girlfriend in the booth across from me.
Honorable Mention: Health - Get Color, Deer Tick - Born on Flag Day, Passion Pit - Manners, Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Drug Rug - Paint the Fence Invisible, Obits - I Blame You, Anni Rossi - Rockwell
1. Converge - Axe to Fall - This gets my vote for album of the year for three reasons. First, Converge is one of my all-time favorites, and they can do no wrong. Second, this album runs step for step with the quartet's masterpiece, Jane Doe, which is a lofty statement to say the least. Third, Converge went on an inspired face-melting mission and guitarist Kurt Ballou hitched a ride on a dream cloud to the Xanadu of brutal riffage and bought a townhouse there. The first five songs are reason enough to worship this onslaught of sonic dynamite. Fucking brilliant.
2. Pissed Jeans - King of Jeans - Surlier, dirtier, and louder than Hope for Men, complete with an endearing basement show ambiance of sweat, blood, and booze. You can practically feel the spit from the slurs and growls of frontman Matt Korvette. It's the kind of performance that reminds me of an overly exerted, red-faced singer puking in the corner after practically killing himself while attempting to entertain 18 kids at a shitty bowling alley basement show. All out, all the time.
3. St. Vincent - Actor - I'm in love with Annie Clark, and she's in love with me, or so I repeatedly tell myself (over and over and over). Regardless of our passionate love for one another, her shining album as St. Vincent is a meandering trail of sugary yet astute indie rock that isn't afraid to get messy and noisy from time to time. Clark is the quintessential bandleader, with a talent for beautiful quirk and a charismatic charm that could persuade me to eat a heaping bowl of dirt.
4. Fuck Buttons - Tarot Sport - This Bristol duo ditched much of the abrasiveness from its debut, Street Horrrsing, and produced a haunting soundtrack of noise that builds ominous beat upon ominous beat as snippets of sound ricochet from one quadrant of a song to another. The album's personality is the equivalent to the perfect sci-fi horror movie scene, littered with blood thirsty aliens probing petrified victims with eight-foot long needles beneath blinding spotlights. The climactic closing track, "Flight of the Feathered Serpent," is goddamn chilling.
5. Sleepy Sun - Embrace - A hearty slice of stoner rock pie. This sextet doesn't attempt to disguise their certain Sabbath allegiances, which is actually kind of refreshing. I saw these guys in an intimate theatre with seating. Although they were slightly off-put by playing to 35 seated concertgoers, it didn't temper their charming enthusiasm. Fuzzed-out, weed-scented guitar licks galore, with Rachel Williams (who can straight fucking bellow) and Bret Constantino's vocals casually strolling alongside. A good trip.
6. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion - I loved the audacity Stereogum exhibited when it named this the album of the year directly after it's release way back in January. Seems brash, presumptuous, and just a little fucking ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, the readers elected it album of the year in Stereogum's recently published Best of 2009 Extravaganza. Of course they did. Either Stereogum dangled a mutant-sized carrot in front of its impressionable readers' faces for 11 months, or I'm calling a goddamn conspiracy. I mean, who wants to turn around and see his own foot in his ass? All that being said, the album does in fact dominate.
7. Box Elders - Alice and Friends - Poppy low-fi garage goodness with a Dead Milkmen-like charm. This album is by no means mind-blowingly spectacular, but it's so damn fun that I can't deny it from this list. I feel like I've missed seeing these guys something like eight times (they're always coming through Chicago), and I'm reminded of my brazen stupidity each time I spin this album. Mindless, head-bobbing good times.
8. Baroness - Blue Record - While Red Album proved to be Baroness's coming out party, it lacked cohesion. This album, though, is an equal-part batter of metal doom riffs, transcendent melodic guitar, guttural and fiery vocals, and intricate, shitstorm drumming. It has eerie valleys and triumphant peaks abound, and there are unusual moments where it sounds like I'm being chased by gaggles of demonic trolls. Currently the best prog-ish metal band calling the state of Georgia home (in case you didn't know, Mastodon's from Atlanta).
9. Double Dagger - More - These guys pair perfectly with a sweaty and sticky art space show that has a fridge full of dollar PBRs, a 20-minute bathroom wait, and thin clouds of smoke hanging just overhead (I experienced this dream setting over the summer). Bass, drums, vocals, and enough frenetic energy to make a five-year old shit right through his pants. Is it just me, or does Baltimore have an outstanding music scene?
10. Bat for Lashes - Two Suns - I cheat on St. Vincent's Annie Clark with Natasha Khan of Bat for Lashes. That's just how shit rolls, ya know? They both understand. Plus, Khan's albums are spells. They literally sound like a benevolent sorcerer concocted them, sprinkling sprite dust and unicorn ashes over each tune. Two Suns is enchanting and daze-inducing. Check out the video for "What's A Girl to Do" off of her debut Fur & Gold and convince me you're not mesmerized. Sounds like magic.
11. Magik Markers - Balf Quarry - The apparent u-turn that was 2007's Boss proved to be the fantastic realization of a newly mapped route as duo Elisa Ambrogio and Pete Nolan moved toward more structured ways of songwritng. Balf Quarry continues in that direction with drone noises and blips loosely held together by Ambrogio's ominous, echoed vocals and Nolan's rudimentary drumming. Once you think you're contently dazing off (see "State Number"), the album inflicts multiple blows to the solar plexus (see "The Lighter Side of...Hippies"), leaving you disoriented by the album's polarity, but still quite content.
12. Dan Deacon - Bromst - Heard this story before? A classically trained electronic musician (whatever that means) who wears garish neon clothing, seems to barf arty bullshit, and looks like he'd molest your children? That's Dan Deacon, alright. I respect ambition, and Deacon's got so much it makes him seem like a pretentious, holier than thou fartbag. The simple fact is that the man is a talented whatchamacallit, and this album is a swirling grab bag of electro-excellence. Critics have called it "darker" than Spiderman of the Rings. Whatever. It's still a fun romp and makes me feel like I'm forever jumping on a moonbounce inside an abandoned Chuck E. Cheese.
13. Lightning Bolt - Earthly Delights - I shouldn't really have to go into much detail here. Uhhh . . . there was a new Lightning Bolt album this year--the first since 2005's Hypermagic Mountain. It's fucking Lightning Bolt. No drastic shift musically. They still sound like the apocalypse. Lightning Bolt, fuck.
14. Future of the Left - Travels With Myself and Another - With enough piss and vinegar to drown a little league baseball team, the Welsh trio's sophomore album expands on the ferocity and simplistic crunch of 2007's Curses with a scorcher of middle-finger-right-up-in-your-asshole-face punk rock. No longer stuck in the "ex-Mclusky" pigeonhole, Future of the Left has rightfully secured its own identity and the splendidly volatile mixture of anthemic jaunts coupled with pissed-off, snarly poundings prove that the Welsh boys are worth looking up.
15. Wye Oak - The Knot - This is the third Baltimore band/artist on my list. What the fuck is up, Charm City? Anyway, there's just something adorable and endearing about this indie rock duo. Since their debut If Children, Jenn Wasner's vocals matured with a heartfelt soulfulness and the cultivated songwriting now peeks into rooms of complexity, working with cascading melodies and almost tangible emotion. Wye Oak reminds me of eating a giant banana split sundae at an ice cream parlor on a dreary spring day and watching an unaffected dude break up with his sobbing girlfriend in the booth across from me.
Honorable Mention: Health - Get Color, Deer Tick - Born on Flag Day, Passion Pit - Manners, Phoenix - Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Drug Rug - Paint the Fence Invisible, Obits - I Blame You, Anni Rossi - Rockwell
Thursday, November 26, 2009
A Thankful Thanksgiving (Pretty Much)
I'm sitting at my computer at 12:43 PM on Thanksgiving in Chicago. For the first year ever, I'm not celebrating Thanksgiving with my family. There are various reasons for this, and they're all understandable. With that being said, I'm pretty cool with it and looking forward to this Thanksgiving more than any other in recent memory. Loren (also not making the trip back to New Jersey) and I are going to prepare a feast consisting of Lasagna, Tofurkey, cornbread, mashed taters, and broccoli. We're going to cook, devour, drink beer, watch football, and go to the movies. Pretty stellar day if you ask me. Plus, I saw Baroness last night and will once again behold the glory of the Jesus Lizard this Saturday.
Anyway, I feel like it's important to compile a rundown of things I'm thankful for (a rarity). While many may see me as a sarcastic, dry, paranoid, rigid, and pessimistic person, I am actually thankful for various people, influences, and relationships in my life. All that being said, I refuse to make this list a sappy lovefest of bullshit.
First off (and because they're both loyal readers), I'm thankful that this man and his wife are moving to Chicago. Justin got a job with Teach for America, and I supported him through the painstaking phases he had to endure. It was not an easily accomplished task and we're all very proud of him. What makes this so amazing is that things like this don't happen. Justin and I tend to share a brain from time to time, and yes I know I hold an overall advantage because I beat him in a push-up contest, but the point is that while this moved seemed imminent, neither of us felt truly confident it would come to fruition. We're just not lucky like that. Well, now it's time to keep our fingers crossed that the July 2010 doesn't get jinxed. Regardless, I'm pumped.
I'm thankful for my job. Given, work is work, and it can straight fucking blow balls, but I kind of lucked out (aside from compensation). The advantages of my job at the Reader are as follows: No rules on clothing (see these four year old jeans with the whole in the crotch? Yeah, I'm wearing those to work), everyone I work with pretty much rules, cursing is well-accepted and often encouraged, perks upon perks (mostly music related), and the Reader's a goddamn respected institution in this city with brilliant writers and editors. I often want to complain about my job, but I really just can't.
I'm thankful for sports and all sports-related programming, podcasts, magazines, and discussion. We can just leave it at that.
Not really. I'm also thankful for commercials that air during football games. Not because they're good or intentionally funny, but because I love how blatantly they target what is deemed the typical football watching crowd (married men ages 35-60). My personal favorite is a Viagra commercial where a middle-aged man is confronted by his "other self" during a trip to the doctor. The man seems flabbergasted and embarrassed by the "other self's" suggestion that it's time to discuss his erectile dysfunction with the doctor. Although initially shocked by the proposal, the old fart is easily convinced. Leaving the doctor after talking about his wiener problem, he high fives his "other self" gives it a content nod of the head and meets his wife in a pleasant-looking park for an early evening stroll and dinner. I can only assume that they later go home, and he bangs the shit out of her. Viagra and cornball Kay Jewelry commercials have more unintentional comedic moments than most commercials on television, and they each revolve around some doofus showing his wife or significant other either his boner or a big fat fucking diamond--they usually seem more excited about the diamond.
I'm thankful for my two mopeds, two bikes, motorcycle, and car because it's obvious that I need each one of them. I'm not even going to lie--I love to look at all of my two-wheeled modes of transportation. I fucking love it, and I want more.
I'm thankful that I've maintained long term (and basically lifelong) friendships. I've know one Michael Short since I was eight and have been super tight with Russell "The Love Muscle" Vance, Michael "Juggernaut" Coates, Zach "Spazz" Thomas, Kenny Roa, and Billy Hartmann for over a decade. I greatly appreciate this, not because they are good people, but because the amount of joke material I have on each one is recyclable for eternity. They'll never go away and neither will I. And although I've only known him since 2007, I'll also include Justin Bragg in my list. Mainly because he's so damn exhausting to be around, it feels like I've know him for practically twenty years.
Finally, here's a quick list of things I'm thankful for that don't warrant their own paragraphs: My ability to find amazing parking spots, my chiseled jawline, Heidi's butterscotch cookies, my superior amount of Seinfeld knowledge, Logan Square, my mom's never ending tolerance of me and my brothers, adrenaline, never having gotten pulled over on the highway, Peyton Manning, my TV series DVD collection, my awesome apartment, Chicago brunch, and recliners, among many other treats that are escaping me at the moment.
P.S. I am not thankful for the way that Brett Favre and Vince Young are currently playing quarterback. Justin and I have been talking shit on them for years, and they're currently taking a crap on us. Stop it! Stop playing well and making us look like we don't know what we're talking about. We've always seen ourselves as trailblazing thinkers and great sports hypothesizers.
Favre: I'm going to need you to go to your Mississippi farm and run over your right arm with a tractor.
Young: I need you to go flunk another test so we can continue to make fun of how dumb you are, dummy.
You guys suck.
Anyway, I feel like it's important to compile a rundown of things I'm thankful for (a rarity). While many may see me as a sarcastic, dry, paranoid, rigid, and pessimistic person, I am actually thankful for various people, influences, and relationships in my life. All that being said, I refuse to make this list a sappy lovefest of bullshit.
First off (and because they're both loyal readers), I'm thankful that this man and his wife are moving to Chicago. Justin got a job with Teach for America, and I supported him through the painstaking phases he had to endure. It was not an easily accomplished task and we're all very proud of him. What makes this so amazing is that things like this don't happen. Justin and I tend to share a brain from time to time, and yes I know I hold an overall advantage because I beat him in a push-up contest, but the point is that while this moved seemed imminent, neither of us felt truly confident it would come to fruition. We're just not lucky like that. Well, now it's time to keep our fingers crossed that the July 2010 doesn't get jinxed. Regardless, I'm pumped.
I'm thankful for my job. Given, work is work, and it can straight fucking blow balls, but I kind of lucked out (aside from compensation). The advantages of my job at the Reader are as follows: No rules on clothing (see these four year old jeans with the whole in the crotch? Yeah, I'm wearing those to work), everyone I work with pretty much rules, cursing is well-accepted and often encouraged, perks upon perks (mostly music related), and the Reader's a goddamn respected institution in this city with brilliant writers and editors. I often want to complain about my job, but I really just can't.
I'm thankful for sports and all sports-related programming, podcasts, magazines, and discussion. We can just leave it at that.
Not really. I'm also thankful for commercials that air during football games. Not because they're good or intentionally funny, but because I love how blatantly they target what is deemed the typical football watching crowd (married men ages 35-60). My personal favorite is a Viagra commercial where a middle-aged man is confronted by his "other self" during a trip to the doctor. The man seems flabbergasted and embarrassed by the "other self's" suggestion that it's time to discuss his erectile dysfunction with the doctor. Although initially shocked by the proposal, the old fart is easily convinced. Leaving the doctor after talking about his wiener problem, he high fives his "other self" gives it a content nod of the head and meets his wife in a pleasant-looking park for an early evening stroll and dinner. I can only assume that they later go home, and he bangs the shit out of her. Viagra and cornball Kay Jewelry commercials have more unintentional comedic moments than most commercials on television, and they each revolve around some doofus showing his wife or significant other either his boner or a big fat fucking diamond--they usually seem more excited about the diamond.
I'm thankful for my two mopeds, two bikes, motorcycle, and car because it's obvious that I need each one of them. I'm not even going to lie--I love to look at all of my two-wheeled modes of transportation. I fucking love it, and I want more.
I'm thankful that I've maintained long term (and basically lifelong) friendships. I've know one Michael Short since I was eight and have been super tight with Russell "The Love Muscle" Vance, Michael "Juggernaut" Coates, Zach "Spazz" Thomas, Kenny Roa, and Billy Hartmann for over a decade. I greatly appreciate this, not because they are good people, but because the amount of joke material I have on each one is recyclable for eternity. They'll never go away and neither will I. And although I've only known him since 2007, I'll also include Justin Bragg in my list. Mainly because he's so damn exhausting to be around, it feels like I've know him for practically twenty years.
Finally, here's a quick list of things I'm thankful for that don't warrant their own paragraphs: My ability to find amazing parking spots, my chiseled jawline, Heidi's butterscotch cookies, my superior amount of Seinfeld knowledge, Logan Square, my mom's never ending tolerance of me and my brothers, adrenaline, never having gotten pulled over on the highway, Peyton Manning, my TV series DVD collection, my awesome apartment, Chicago brunch, and recliners, among many other treats that are escaping me at the moment.
P.S. I am not thankful for the way that Brett Favre and Vince Young are currently playing quarterback. Justin and I have been talking shit on them for years, and they're currently taking a crap on us. Stop it! Stop playing well and making us look like we don't know what we're talking about. We've always seen ourselves as trailblazing thinkers and great sports hypothesizers.
Favre: I'm going to need you to go to your Mississippi farm and run over your right arm with a tractor.
Young: I need you to go flunk another test so we can continue to make fun of how dumb you are, dummy.
You guys suck.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Indiana Cabin Weekend and Halloween: A Polaroid Story.
So, I've recently become a big fan of Polaroid photos, and I decided to lightly document my last two major weekends using Polaroid film. A couple of weekends ago, a top-notch group of us went "camping" in Who the Hell Knows Where, Indiana. Actually, as I was driving through the local sticks listening to the radio, the area was being referred to as Kentuckiana, a more objectionable, awful description I cannot recall. Anyway, we spent the weekend playing cornhole, drinking beer, hiking, playing cornhole, listening to Kenny make crude comments, basking in a campfire, watching Justin grill things, and slurring curse words together. It was a goddamn delight.
Note: I mistakenly left Zach Thomas's name off the "posse" Polaroid. It should read "Posse minus Russ, Zach, and Brian." My fault, Robert Zachary Thomas.
Click on the photos for larger versions.
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This past weekend contained the best day of the year. The one day where it's socially acceptable to walk around in a cheetah leotard or flaunt an obscene amount of cleavage. Does it really matter what you even do on Halloween? As long as you're at some party, bar, or random gathering where people are dressed up and maybe slightly intoxicated, everyone's fantastically happy. I know, I know, I went as zombie. Cliche as hell, right? Well, fuck off. It was my and Carley's idea because she's been plowing through her fear of zombies and we had a good "makeup artist" to take care of us (Ricki). Regardless, it was a blast of a night. I ran out of film much too early to document much of the debauchery that ensued. Bummer.
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Note: I mistakenly left Zach Thomas's name off the "posse" Polaroid. It should read "Posse minus Russ, Zach, and Brian." My fault, Robert Zachary Thomas.
Click on the photos for larger versions.
.jpg)
This past weekend contained the best day of the year. The one day where it's socially acceptable to walk around in a cheetah leotard or flaunt an obscene amount of cleavage. Does it really matter what you even do on Halloween? As long as you're at some party, bar, or random gathering where people are dressed up and maybe slightly intoxicated, everyone's fantastically happy. I know, I know, I went as zombie. Cliche as hell, right? Well, fuck off. It was my and Carley's idea because she's been plowing through her fear of zombies and we had a good "makeup artist" to take care of us (Ricki). Regardless, it was a blast of a night. I ran out of film much too early to document much of the debauchery that ensued. Bummer.
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Thursday, October 22, 2009
A "Fun" Theory About a Mind-Boggling Contraption.
My roommate introduced me to the recent theory concerning the Large Hardron Collider that's located in the countryside near Geneva, Switzerland. Instead of trying to explain the device and its purpose (I'd inevitably botch the description), I'm going to refer to a June 2007 article from Popular Mechanics:
"Inside the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), massive, powerful magnets chilled to a few degrees above absolute zero — colder than outer space — will zip beams of superenergetic protons and lead nuclei in a loop at speeds within a hairsbreadth of the speed of light, then collide them head-on. The energy released will be so vast that the impacts will recreate conditions in the universe as they existed just a fraction of a second after the big bang. If the LHC performs as expected, it could at last nail down that holy grail of contemporary physics, the Higgs boson — known as the “God particle” because it is thought to lend mass to matter. It may even finally unveil the secret of dark matter, the mysterious entity that makes up 85 percent of the universe — thereby shedding light on as-yet-unexplainable motions of galaxies."
Daunting shit, right? Regardless, the brains of the world have had a hell of a getting this thing to operate properly and are becoming rather frustrated with repeated disappointments. The initial startup date (November 2007) was delayed when a "cryogenic magnet support broke during a pressure test." Operation was again delayed in 2008 due to a "faulty electrical connection between two magnets." In July of this year, leaks were identified, once again delaying what is being deemed as the "start of operations."
Doesn't it seem a little wacky that the world's preeminent physicists and scientists can't get this terrifying monstrosity cooking? Well, others agree. Because of the prolonged difficulties, rational theories are beginning to be tossed by the wayside. The newest and best theory is that the Collider is being sabotaged by forces/humans from the future who are traveling back in time to halt operations and avoid an imminent disaster that would disrupt the future's equilibrium and possibly suck the Earth into a black hole.
This is some Terminator 2: Judgment Day kind of mind-melter shit. It's being compared a lot more to Back to the Future, but that's too PG-rated and campy for me. I tend to envision the scene when Arnold, Eddie Furlong, and Linda Hamilton go after (basically attempt to murder) Dr. Miles Dyson of Cyberdene Systems Corporation to prevent the future self-awareness of Skynet, a catastrophe that would result in the "rise of the machines," mass destruction, and a couple of subpar sequels.
To be honest, I'm not even poking fun at the free thinking theorists. I just find it humorous and entertaining when all rational thought has been expended and the next logical explanation is time travel. Fucking brilliant.
"Inside the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), massive, powerful magnets chilled to a few degrees above absolute zero — colder than outer space — will zip beams of superenergetic protons and lead nuclei in a loop at speeds within a hairsbreadth of the speed of light, then collide them head-on. The energy released will be so vast that the impacts will recreate conditions in the universe as they existed just a fraction of a second after the big bang. If the LHC performs as expected, it could at last nail down that holy grail of contemporary physics, the Higgs boson — known as the “God particle” because it is thought to lend mass to matter. It may even finally unveil the secret of dark matter, the mysterious entity that makes up 85 percent of the universe — thereby shedding light on as-yet-unexplainable motions of galaxies."
Daunting shit, right? Regardless, the brains of the world have had a hell of a getting this thing to operate properly and are becoming rather frustrated with repeated disappointments. The initial startup date (November 2007) was delayed when a "cryogenic magnet support broke during a pressure test." Operation was again delayed in 2008 due to a "faulty electrical connection between two magnets." In July of this year, leaks were identified, once again delaying what is being deemed as the "start of operations."Doesn't it seem a little wacky that the world's preeminent physicists and scientists can't get this terrifying monstrosity cooking? Well, others agree. Because of the prolonged difficulties, rational theories are beginning to be tossed by the wayside. The newest and best theory is that the Collider is being sabotaged by forces/humans from the future who are traveling back in time to halt operations and avoid an imminent disaster that would disrupt the future's equilibrium and possibly suck the Earth into a black hole.
This is some Terminator 2: Judgment Day kind of mind-melter shit. It's being compared a lot more to Back to the Future, but that's too PG-rated and campy for me. I tend to envision the scene when Arnold, Eddie Furlong, and Linda Hamilton go after (basically attempt to murder) Dr. Miles Dyson of Cyberdene Systems Corporation to prevent the future self-awareness of Skynet, a catastrophe that would result in the "rise of the machines," mass destruction, and a couple of subpar sequels.
To be honest, I'm not even poking fun at the free thinking theorists. I just find it humorous and entertaining when all rational thought has been expended and the next logical explanation is time travel. Fucking brilliant.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Good Work, Levi's.
Seeing that I haven't blogged in over a month, I'm going to keep this one simple and in list format (kind of). My recent trend of hooded sweatshirt wearing and pumpkin beer hunting means it's probably about time for my annual Fall blog, consisting of the best and worst parts of the standout season (although we all know that summer will always dominate the head-to-head battle). Because I'm neglecting to look back at last year's blog, there's no doubt I'm going to tread over some old thoughts. I don't mind being repetitive, though, and there will always be unavoidable holdovers from year to year. Also, I'm aware that Simmons recently wrote a "Why October Is Great" article; however, I had the idea first, so I'm calling dibs. Justin's probably the only one that would raise a fuss anyway. You know, because he's a crybaby. So, without further ado . . .
Fall means new jeans. I beat the hell out of my jeans from bike riding, mountain climbing, tomato gardening, hang gliding, buck hunting, moped fixing, and bare-knuckle street-fighting, among my other typical Summer activities. Anyway, it appeared as if Levi's had dropped the ball and fucked their 511s fit way up. One size was too small, the next size up was too big. This pair had four pockets, this pair had twelve. It was a disaster. I've been wearing Levi's for the past decade and had both my size and fit down. So, I panicked and bought some Marc Jacobs jeans. That's right, you heard me. I'm a fancy fuck now (not really because they cost like 80 bucks). I am happy to say, though, that Levi's recently came out with a Fall collection and got their shit straight and returned to form. I can only assume this was a result of me bitching about the altered fit every time I went into a Levi's store. So, those of you who are hopelessly devoted to the 511 skinny jean, you're welcome.
Fall means a sports orgasm. October is simultaneously overloaded with the baseball playoffs and football. The two best sports in bed together in the same month. It's like late Saturday night Cinemax programming. *I did go further (much further) with this analogy, but then opted to delete it. Probably the wise move.*
Fall means pumpkin beer. Already mentioned in the introduction, pumpkin beer has become a fixation (maybe a vice) of mine over the last few years. If I see a variety I've never had before, I always buy it. When Winter porters begin usurping shelf space, I hoard the shit like a hobo hoards pop cans. It's my elixir and makes me invincible.
Fall means empty bike lanes. I get some sort of sick enjoyment out of riding my bike through the blistering Chicago cold. In the summer, the Milwaukee Avenue bike lanes are teeming with shorts and tanktops perched upon fixed gears, but once sub-50 degree weather hits, the lanes thin out and the hardcore cyclists are the only ones left. Nothing better than pulling up next to a fellow insane person in ten-degree weather, nodding your head, and saying, "Fuck, it's cold."
Fall means bonfires. Is there anything better than sitting in a camping chair, drinking Budweiser out of a can, and flicking finished cigarettes into a raging bonfire? If I could bottle the scent of bonfires, I'd call it "Autumn," sell it to suckers like Kenny and Russ, and make a bajillion dollars. I can't wait for my late October camping trip with the posse (minus a couple), so that I can drench my hooded sweatshirts in the bonfire smell and purposely not wash them for the rest of the season.
Fall means darkness at 4:30 PM. One thing I miss about Cincinnati is that it's on the edge of the eastern time zone, resulting in a later sundown time. Here in Chicago, though, the sun gives us the middle finger around 4:15 or 4:30 PM. Given, that's during the heart of winter, but there's nothing worse (or more depressing) than when fall starts hitting and you notice the day shrinking. Ugh. I hate walking out of work and into the dark.
Fall means Halloween. Chock-full of haunted houses, dressed up buffoons, and copious amounts of candy shoved in your face, Halloween is the best holiday of the year. Plus, I've become obsessed with tracking down the guerrilla Halloween costume outlets that pop up in vacant storefronts around the city. It's the perfect business model. Fill a store with a bunch of campy, hideous holiday shit and when it's gone, it's fucking gone. No restocking and practically no cleaning up. Have you ever been in one of those places on October 30? It's the damn apocalypse. A delightful disaster of desperate vagabonds running around in a bleak, desolate wasteland of clown wigs, vampire teeth, and fake blood. Absolutely terrifying.
Fall means more blogs from yours truly. I've been massively disappointed with my general lack of recent blog production. To be completely honest, I haven't been able to find any time. I'm a busy bee during the warm weather seasons because I gotsta to keep up my appearances and shit (not really). Anyway, with fall comes the security of fearing the cold, wind, and premature darkness and just packing it in for the evening. The results? I'll spend a shit ton less money and be able to post up one of these gems on a weekly basis, regardless of length. That's my new goal, and I sure as fuck plan on following through. I wouldn't dare deprive the public (or Justin) any longer from my words of wisdom.
Fall means new jeans. I beat the hell out of my jeans from bike riding, mountain climbing, tomato gardening, hang gliding, buck hunting, moped fixing, and bare-knuckle street-fighting, among my other typical Summer activities. Anyway, it appeared as if Levi's had dropped the ball and fucked their 511s fit way up. One size was too small, the next size up was too big. This pair had four pockets, this pair had twelve. It was a disaster. I've been wearing Levi's for the past decade and had both my size and fit down. So, I panicked and bought some Marc Jacobs jeans. That's right, you heard me. I'm a fancy fuck now (not really because they cost like 80 bucks). I am happy to say, though, that Levi's recently came out with a Fall collection and got their shit straight and returned to form. I can only assume this was a result of me bitching about the altered fit every time I went into a Levi's store. So, those of you who are hopelessly devoted to the 511 skinny jean, you're welcome.
Fall means a sports orgasm. October is simultaneously overloaded with the baseball playoffs and football. The two best sports in bed together in the same month. It's like late Saturday night Cinemax programming. *I did go further (much further) with this analogy, but then opted to delete it. Probably the wise move.*
Fall means pumpkin beer. Already mentioned in the introduction, pumpkin beer has become a fixation (maybe a vice) of mine over the last few years. If I see a variety I've never had before, I always buy it. When Winter porters begin usurping shelf space, I hoard the shit like a hobo hoards pop cans. It's my elixir and makes me invincible.
Fall means empty bike lanes. I get some sort of sick enjoyment out of riding my bike through the blistering Chicago cold. In the summer, the Milwaukee Avenue bike lanes are teeming with shorts and tanktops perched upon fixed gears, but once sub-50 degree weather hits, the lanes thin out and the hardcore cyclists are the only ones left. Nothing better than pulling up next to a fellow insane person in ten-degree weather, nodding your head, and saying, "Fuck, it's cold."
Fall means bonfires. Is there anything better than sitting in a camping chair, drinking Budweiser out of a can, and flicking finished cigarettes into a raging bonfire? If I could bottle the scent of bonfires, I'd call it "Autumn," sell it to suckers like Kenny and Russ, and make a bajillion dollars. I can't wait for my late October camping trip with the posse (minus a couple), so that I can drench my hooded sweatshirts in the bonfire smell and purposely not wash them for the rest of the season.
Fall means darkness at 4:30 PM. One thing I miss about Cincinnati is that it's on the edge of the eastern time zone, resulting in a later sundown time. Here in Chicago, though, the sun gives us the middle finger around 4:15 or 4:30 PM. Given, that's during the heart of winter, but there's nothing worse (or more depressing) than when fall starts hitting and you notice the day shrinking. Ugh. I hate walking out of work and into the dark.
Fall means Halloween. Chock-full of haunted houses, dressed up buffoons, and copious amounts of candy shoved in your face, Halloween is the best holiday of the year. Plus, I've become obsessed with tracking down the guerrilla Halloween costume outlets that pop up in vacant storefronts around the city. It's the perfect business model. Fill a store with a bunch of campy, hideous holiday shit and when it's gone, it's fucking gone. No restocking and practically no cleaning up. Have you ever been in one of those places on October 30? It's the damn apocalypse. A delightful disaster of desperate vagabonds running around in a bleak, desolate wasteland of clown wigs, vampire teeth, and fake blood. Absolutely terrifying.
Fall means more blogs from yours truly. I've been massively disappointed with my general lack of recent blog production. To be completely honest, I haven't been able to find any time. I'm a busy bee during the warm weather seasons because I gotsta to keep up my appearances and shit (not really). Anyway, with fall comes the security of fearing the cold, wind, and premature darkness and just packing it in for the evening. The results? I'll spend a shit ton less money and be able to post up one of these gems on a weekly basis, regardless of length. That's my new goal, and I sure as fuck plan on following through. I wouldn't dare deprive the public (or Justin) any longer from my words of wisdom.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
My Preface to the Upcoming NFL Season (NFC).
Since posting my AFC preview, there have been two disasters. Number one: I fractured my right wrist when a car decided to hit me while I was on my bike (don't worry the bike appears to be okay). Number two: Brett Favre returned to the NFL with the Minnesota Vikings. I don't have it in me anymore to discuss number two, and as a matter of fact, I'm making a pact with myself to avoid his name in upcoming blogs concerning football, painkillers, or Wrangler jeans. I have no more words. As Simmons put it, Favre's new nickname should simply be "VD" because he just won't go away.
Anyway, the fractured wrist deterred me from attempting the NFC blog because I would've had to practically operate my computer left-handed. Seeing that I've basically disowned my left hand for the first 28 years of my life, I didn't really expect it to forgive me and cooperate. My apologies, left hand. I'll never treat you like a 15-year old heroin-addicted, pregnant daughter again.
Regardless, my right hand can now sufficiently operate well enough to complete my NFL preview. Plus, I would've felt like a real fuckface if I just had an AFC preview and blamed it on an injured body part. I know that I'm cutting it close with the season starting on Thursday, but better late than never, right?
As was said with the AFC preview, I'm not going any further than the teams that are going to get in the playoffs.
NFC EAST
Dallas Cowboys (10-6) - Let me preface this with saying that I hate this division. Why else would I have picked the Cowboys to win? It's always overblown and consequently disappointing. That being said, Jerry Jones did build a fifty kajillion dollar stadium and shrewdly sabotaged the opposing punter with an enormously outrageous scoreboard that acts as a huge psyche out. As sad as it sounds, after superficially evaluating the other quarterbacks in the division, I've got to go with Romo. Yep, I just said that I'm going with Tony Romo.
Philadelphia Eagles (9-7) - Remember that discussion about Anquan Boldin heading to the Eagles. Remember how it didn't happen? Remember how the Eagles never did bring in a big time receiver? Have a good time leaning on a second year prima donna (DeSean Jackson) and a rookie (Jeremy Maclin). Oh, and Michael Vick used to electrocute dogs.
New York Giants (7-9) - When Plaxico Burress was suspended last season, the Giants pretty much fell apart. Why this wasn't regularly talked about on the ESPNs confounds me. Dear New York, Eli Manning has no one to throw his knuckle-balls to anymore. You're totally fucked. Justin and I are actually still in shock that Eli Manning is a "Super Bowl Champion." Just doesn't sound right, does it? So, why not give him a huge extension and a ton of money? This shit is just too wonky. Tyree got released yesterday. The Super Bowl mojo is done and gone. You ruined a perfectly good Super Bowl and my chance to witness the perfect season. Screw you, Giants.
Washington Redskins (5-11) - When you make rumblings on two separate occasions about chucking your quarterback, you've basically given up on him as part of your future. Don't get me wrong, I like Clinton Portis and Santana Moss, and I'd really like to see Jason Campbell succeed. He just won't.
NFC NORTH
Green Bay Packers (12-4) - I know that the Green Bay Packers are a sexy pick right now. Am I jumping on the bandwagon? Yes. Yes I am. The fact that Aaron Rodgers has succeeded since the Brett Favre debacle elates me. Plus, this division isn't the beast everyone's making it out to be (see below).
Chicago Bears (10-6) - I applaud you, Bears. You stuck your neck out and made a big move. Congrats on bringing in Cutler. By the way, who in almighty hell is he going to throw the ball to with three minutes left in the 4th quarter of a playoff game? The fact that Devin Hester is a number one receiver is a joke. He's a backup cornerback and a good special teams player. That's it. It's like a statistical nerd getting hired as the GM of a basketball team just because he's a whiz at crunching rebounding numbers and shooting percentages. Oh, wait...
Detroit Lions (5-11) - Giving the Lions five wins is a bit of a stretch, but I'm a pretty big Calvin Johnson fan. Unfortunately, I feel like the Lions are going to start Stafford over Culpepper (I found this out to be true a couple of days after writing the preview), so Johnson's numbers aren't going to be as glaring. Carson Palmer played backup for a year. Rivers did it for two. So did Rodgers. Seems like a logical decision to me considering Culpepper still has some gas in the tank. Plus, I just want to see him do his touchdown arm roll celebration thing.
Minnesota Vikings (2-14) - Brett Favre.
NFC SOUTH
New Orleans Saints (11-5) - I don't know why New Orleans isn't getting any love this year. Drew Brees almost conquered Marino's single season passing totals last year. Sure, their defense is suspect, but it really comes down to the fact that this is the least interesting division in the NFL, and the Saints are the most likable (Katrina aside). Also, I can't believe Mark Brunell is still puttering around. Here's two more points for the wily old veteran that couldn't throw five yards if he had gun to his balls.
Atlanta Falcons (8-8) - Time to float back down to reality, Matt Ryan. Whenever you're being interviewed by Sports Illustrated alongside real quarterbacks (aside from Romo and Roethlisberger) about the "toughest job in sports," you know you've blown your load too soon. The Gonzales pickup was nice, but isn't Atlanta notorious for having an all-around terrible fanbase? No wonder the city could only win one World Series in the 53 tries they had during the 90s.
Carolina Panthers (6-10) - Dear Carolina, Jake Delhomme isn't good anymore. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure he ever was any good. You remember last year's playoffs, right? I've never seen anything quite so disgustingly horrendous. It's as if I was watching the Hindenburg disaster, only I was laughing the entire time. I predict Delhomme's head will explode following his fourth interception in the first 11 minutes of the first quarter of the opener. What a putz.
Tampa Bay Buccaneers (2-14) - I really don't know if there's going to be a worse team in the league this season. I think they're starting the guy who vacuums my apartment building's stairs at quarterback. Where's Jeff Gracia when you need him? I also have no idea who the coach is. I honestly can't think of his name or what he looks like at all. That probably doesn't bode well.
NFC WEST
Arizona Cardinals (11-5) - I'm not going with the sexy Seattle Seahawks pick. Partly because I'm still bitter over losing T.J. Houshmandzadeh but mostly because Arizona's offense is a fucking juggernaut. Boldin's still there, Fitzgerald is the best receiver in the league, and old bones Warner has been rejuvenated. The reason? I can only assume that he's got a great offseason training program of constantly banging out his wife now that she turned good looking overnight. Oh, and God's on his side.
San Francisco 49ers (8-8) - That's right! Shaun Hill is going to lead the old boys back to the glory land. Well, not really. They'll continue to swim in mediocrity for at least the next five to six years. Crabtree's never going to sign, but it doesn't really matter because Shaun Hill's the quarterback. Am I right? Dear 49ers, Take this opportunity to groom Alex Smith. You remember him, right? He's that one guy you drafted first overall. Did he really get a fair shake, or were you too busy crapping out a heaping mess of diarrhea all over his confidence? All that being said, I just glanced at the roster. Oomph...
Seattle Seahawks (8-8) - Is it just me or do way too many ignorant analysts view Matt Hasselbeck as an elite quarterback? I suppose the Seahawks could take a few steps forward this year, but I'd prefer to see Hasselbeck continue his back injuries and fall by the wayside. To be honest, I'm really still just bitter over the fact that the Seahawks let the '05 Steelers win the Super Bowl. The pain I went through with those playoffs is indescribable.
St. Louis Rams (4-12) - I mean, who really gives a shit about the Rams anyway?
Division Champs: Cowboys, Packers, Saints, Cardinals
Wild Cards: Bears, Eagles
Please appreciate the effort I put in to get this thing up before the Thursday night game. It would've just felt wrong otherwise. Good to have you back, football. Hugs and kisses.
Anyway, the fractured wrist deterred me from attempting the NFC blog because I would've had to practically operate my computer left-handed. Seeing that I've basically disowned my left hand for the first 28 years of my life, I didn't really expect it to forgive me and cooperate. My apologies, left hand. I'll never treat you like a 15-year old heroin-addicted, pregnant daughter again.
Regardless, my right hand can now sufficiently operate well enough to complete my NFL preview. Plus, I would've felt like a real fuckface if I just had an AFC preview and blamed it on an injured body part. I know that I'm cutting it close with the season starting on Thursday, but better late than never, right?
As was said with the AFC preview, I'm not going any further than the teams that are going to get in the playoffs.
NFC EAST
Dallas Cowboys (10-6) - Let me preface this with saying that I hate this division. Why else would I have picked the Cowboys to win? It's always overblown and consequently disappointing. That being said, Jerry Jones did build a fifty kajillion dollar stadium and shrewdly sabotaged the opposing punter with an enormously outrageous scoreboard that acts as a huge psyche out. As sad as it sounds, after superficially evaluating the other quarterbacks in the division, I've got to go with Romo. Yep, I just said that I'm going with Tony Romo.
Philadelphia Eagles (9-7) - Remember that discussion about Anquan Boldin heading to the Eagles. Remember how it didn't happen? Remember how the Eagles never did bring in a big time receiver? Have a good time leaning on a second year prima donna (DeSean Jackson) and a rookie (Jeremy Maclin). Oh, and Michael Vick used to electrocute dogs.
New York Giants (7-9) - When Plaxico Burress was suspended last season, the Giants pretty much fell apart. Why this wasn't regularly talked about on the ESPNs confounds me. Dear New York, Eli Manning has no one to throw his knuckle-balls to anymore. You're totally fucked. Justin and I are actually still in shock that Eli Manning is a "Super Bowl Champion." Just doesn't sound right, does it? So, why not give him a huge extension and a ton of money? This shit is just too wonky. Tyree got released yesterday. The Super Bowl mojo is done and gone. You ruined a perfectly good Super Bowl and my chance to witness the perfect season. Screw you, Giants.
Washington Redskins (5-11) - When you make rumblings on two separate occasions about chucking your quarterback, you've basically given up on him as part of your future. Don't get me wrong, I like Clinton Portis and Santana Moss, and I'd really like to see Jason Campbell succeed. He just won't.
NFC NORTH
Green Bay Packers (12-4) - I know that the Green Bay Packers are a sexy pick right now. Am I jumping on the bandwagon? Yes. Yes I am. The fact that Aaron Rodgers has succeeded since the Brett Favre debacle elates me. Plus, this division isn't the beast everyone's making it out to be (see below).
Chicago Bears (10-6) - I applaud you, Bears. You stuck your neck out and made a big move. Congrats on bringing in Cutler. By the way, who in almighty hell is he going to throw the ball to with three minutes left in the 4th quarter of a playoff game? The fact that Devin Hester is a number one receiver is a joke. He's a backup cornerback and a good special teams player. That's it. It's like a statistical nerd getting hired as the GM of a basketball team just because he's a whiz at crunching rebounding numbers and shooting percentages. Oh, wait...
Detroit Lions (5-11) - Giving the Lions five wins is a bit of a stretch, but I'm a pretty big Calvin Johnson fan. Unfortunately, I feel like the Lions are going to start Stafford over Culpepper (I found this out to be true a couple of days after writing the preview), so Johnson's numbers aren't going to be as glaring. Carson Palmer played backup for a year. Rivers did it for two. So did Rodgers. Seems like a logical decision to me considering Culpepper still has some gas in the tank. Plus, I just want to see him do his touchdown arm roll celebration thing.
Minnesota Vikings (2-14) - Brett Favre.
NFC SOUTH
New Orleans Saints (11-5) - I don't know why New Orleans isn't getting any love this year. Drew Brees almost conquered Marino's single season passing totals last year. Sure, their defense is suspect, but it really comes down to the fact that this is the least interesting division in the NFL, and the Saints are the most likable (Katrina aside). Also, I can't believe Mark Brunell is still puttering around. Here's two more points for the wily old veteran that couldn't throw five yards if he had gun to his balls.
Atlanta Falcons (8-8) - Time to float back down to reality, Matt Ryan. Whenever you're being interviewed by Sports Illustrated alongside real quarterbacks (aside from Romo and Roethlisberger) about the "toughest job in sports," you know you've blown your load too soon. The Gonzales pickup was nice, but isn't Atlanta notorious for having an all-around terrible fanbase? No wonder the city could only win one World Series in the 53 tries they had during the 90s.
Carolina Panthers (6-10) - Dear Carolina, Jake Delhomme isn't good anymore. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure he ever was any good. You remember last year's playoffs, right? I've never seen anything quite so disgustingly horrendous. It's as if I was watching the Hindenburg disaster, only I was laughing the entire time. I predict Delhomme's head will explode following his fourth interception in the first 11 minutes of the first quarter of the opener. What a putz.
Tampa Bay Buccaneers (2-14) - I really don't know if there's going to be a worse team in the league this season. I think they're starting the guy who vacuums my apartment building's stairs at quarterback. Where's Jeff Gracia when you need him? I also have no idea who the coach is. I honestly can't think of his name or what he looks like at all. That probably doesn't bode well.
NFC WEST
Arizona Cardinals (11-5) - I'm not going with the sexy Seattle Seahawks pick. Partly because I'm still bitter over losing T.J. Houshmandzadeh but mostly because Arizona's offense is a fucking juggernaut. Boldin's still there, Fitzgerald is the best receiver in the league, and old bones Warner has been rejuvenated. The reason? I can only assume that he's got a great offseason training program of constantly banging out his wife now that she turned good looking overnight. Oh, and God's on his side.
San Francisco 49ers (8-8) - That's right! Shaun Hill is going to lead the old boys back to the glory land. Well, not really. They'll continue to swim in mediocrity for at least the next five to six years. Crabtree's never going to sign, but it doesn't really matter because Shaun Hill's the quarterback. Am I right? Dear 49ers, Take this opportunity to groom Alex Smith. You remember him, right? He's that one guy you drafted first overall. Did he really get a fair shake, or were you too busy crapping out a heaping mess of diarrhea all over his confidence? All that being said, I just glanced at the roster. Oomph...
Seattle Seahawks (8-8) - Is it just me or do way too many ignorant analysts view Matt Hasselbeck as an elite quarterback? I suppose the Seahawks could take a few steps forward this year, but I'd prefer to see Hasselbeck continue his back injuries and fall by the wayside. To be honest, I'm really still just bitter over the fact that the Seahawks let the '05 Steelers win the Super Bowl. The pain I went through with those playoffs is indescribable.
St. Louis Rams (4-12) - I mean, who really gives a shit about the Rams anyway?
Division Champs: Cowboys, Packers, Saints, Cardinals
Wild Cards: Bears, Eagles
Please appreciate the effort I put in to get this thing up before the Thursday night game. It would've just felt wrong otherwise. Good to have you back, football. Hugs and kisses.
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