Them's terrorists in our coffee!

Jesus fucking Jones.  What is this?  Dunkin' Donuts pulls an iced coffee ad because of this quibbling blog post?  Silly.  Maybe I'm just bitter because I don't have the power to get ads pulled.  One day.  One day.  I read some of the comments left on the blog post.  One of them contained a link to this site.  Hilarious.  The "Stuff White People Like" blog is always good for a chuckle.  Post #101 connects with Malkin's hypersensitive interpretation of the DD commercial, too.  

Burger heaven, or burger hell?

This new sandwich from Burger King—the Indy Double Whopper—stacks lettuce, onion, tomato, crispy bacon, and pepper jack cheese atop two flame-broiled patties, a pound of regret, heaping dollops of overactive sweat glands, and shortness of breath for the next two days.  Blackened Cajun mayo slathered on a sesame seed bun slows blood flow as the sensation of constricting arteries and shooting pains in the left arm can be felt upon consumption.  Yes, there’s a little more bounce on my belly now that I’ve eaten this unholy creation of death.  My chest got a bit boobier, too.  I say to you, Indy Double Whopper:  Hello.  I believe our friendship may only last for a limited time, so let’s make the best of it.  See you tomorrow.

Improbable

Sporting News announced today that Blackhawks' RW, Patrick Kane, won Rookie of the Year.  He was the number one overall draft pick a year ago for the Chicago hockey team.  The Hawks beat the odds in the draft lottery (they had less than a 9% chance of getting the top spot) and selected the eighteen-year-old with their pick.  Tonight, the Chicago Bulls beat the odds and secured the number one spot in the NBA draft lottery.  The team's chances that they'd get the number one pick was a meager 1.7%.  After discussing this with Hartigan, the only possible conclusion we could come up with was that someone fixed the lottery.  Why would we say there was a fix?  Two reasons: 1. Derrick Rose (a desperately needed PG and Chicago native) will most likely be the number one pick, and 2. Basketball is now the most corrupt professional sport.  Regardless, I'm pumped for next season.  Rose kicks ass and Chuck Swirsky (the inspiration for Bill Swerski's Superfans) will be calling radio games.  Bulls.

Things that stink

Have you ever driven long distance with a mean old wedgie stuffed up your crack?  If so, ever rip ass and feel something get jarred loose, the result being one of two possibilities?  1. You just shit yourself.  2. The wad of underpants was crammed so far up there, the force of breaking wind so great, that the sport of competitive power farting no longer seems like a dream.

After a thorough inspection of my boxers at the BP in La Crosse, I'm happy to report that the end result of my adventure mirrored the second possibility.  My underpants were free of any actual number two.  The dream is still alive!

Quick sports rant: Cubs signed Jim Edmonds.  I'm against this move, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Edmonds used to be a Cardinal.  The Gold Glover's old and can't run down deep drives to alleys, and he was hitting .178 when the Pads released him.  Pie was only hitting .222, but that's still almost 50 points higher than Edmonds.  Plus, Pie's stellar defense makes up for any struggles at the plate.  He robbed Griffey Jr. of career home run 598 just last week.  Edmonds is too old to do that.  All of those years sacrificing his body for the highlight reel (and to help his team, I guess) have finally caught up with him.

Celebrity news: CNN reported that Jessica Simpson dumped Tony "I can't handle the long snap" Romo.  The network cited the Dallas Morning News article.  Funny that this happened days after Butterfingers botched the seventh inning stretch.  Nick Lachey and Tony Romo have proved this to be true: In order to have a fighting chance with Jessica Simpson, you can't be tone deaf.  

Brewfest June 20th and 21st

Anyone down for this?  I heard last year's Brewfest was enjoyable.  I'd like to share in that enjoyment.  These bands rock, and they'll be there:

Marshall Tucker Band

Canned Heat



Joy

Chopin's Nocturne in E Flat Major performed by Claudio Arrau

Excuse my use of hyperbole, but you can't convince me otherwise: this is the most beautiful piece of music ever composed.

And dude's got a wicked 'stache.

Teamwork

National Geographic is doing a special about this YouTube video on Sunday.  If you have the time to watch all 8-plus minutes of the clip, I suggest that you do.  It's pretty fucking spectacular.  The never-say-die attitude of the water buffalo herd blows my mind.  Had someone wrote about this without having the video, it would cause most readers to roll their eyes and huff in disbelief.  

Nature's hardcore.

Help me out here

I'm looking for the title and author of a poem. My folder of xeroxed poetry from undergrad proved to be unhelpful in the matter. But I know Judy Jordan had us read it both times I took her poetry workshops. She handed out a copy of the poem each semester, as well.

There are two kids that pulled a practical joke on a train conductor. They stuffed a pair of overalls with straw and placed the dummy on the tracks. The conductor tried to brake, but was unsuccessful. When he finally stopped the train he chased the kids, thinking he had killed someone but realizing it wasn't a real person after he got on foot. The narrator of the poem remembers seeing the conductor collapsing in front of the dummy, cradling it and crying. Does anyone know the poem I'm talking about? Title and author?

Anyways, here's an amazing letter from Sharon Olds to Laura Bush. It's nothing new, I'm just a big fan of the last little paragraph. It makes my skin tingle. Probably because the closing line really ties the zinger together. And because we're almost through with the Bush reign.

Please, let it go

Am I alone when I say that the primaries have gone on way too long? I'm posting this version of Politician by Cream because the video reflects how I feel about the Dems and their inability to unite: empty and void of relevant action. You know, Hillary, just because Slick Willy doesn't like to pull out it doesn't mean you have to follow suit. Let's get on with the general election already.

He shoots, he scooores.

Pat Foley!

Yokel extraordinaire

I'm still on the fence as to whether this is uber morbid, or if this guy just has it all figured out.  Either way, I'd like to party the guy.

Now I need to find myself a new place

On the advice that I upgrade Goodyear's home, I went out and purchased the mouse an aquarium. Here are some pictures:

The new home.

The old next to the new.

Porky.

"Let me out so I can live in your walls, Dan."

He was either really happy or really scared when I put him in the new cage.  What does it mean when they run around a lot?  He initially made croaking noises, which I assume is some sort of territorial warning.  I'm thinking about getting him a little housing unit to go inside the cage.  That way he won't have to keep shifting his cage bedding into the corner and burrow in there for protection from the daylight.  

Nursing a pretty wicked hangover means no mint julep for the greatest two minutes in racing.  Yesterday blew.  Except for the Cubs beating the Cards.  But I got an e-mail from Antoinette reminding me that I agreed to participate in (possibly even create) a choreographed dance sequence at Tom's next Saturday.  Not going to happen.  I've got to stop myself from speaking when I drink from now on.

My Uncle Alex was supposed to fly to Philadelphia today to visit his daughter, Chris, and to meet her second son, Adam, who is less than two months old. This would have been the first time he's seen his grandson in person. The trip, however, has been postponed.

Yesterday after class I was working on some revisions. I didn't bother to check my cell phone and pretty much forgot about its existence altogether. Around six-thirty I heard a buzzing coming from my coat that was draped over the second chair in the office. There was a voicemail message. My older sister, Val, had called an hour before to tell me that Uncle Alex had brain surgery because of an aneurysm. The doctors had done an angioplasty, but could not find the ruptured artery. They are certain, however, that he did have a brain aneurysm. What makes them so certain? No one seems to know. To relieve the pressure and pain, a shunt was placed in his skull to drain the excess fluid. He'll have to spend the next two weeks in the hospital, and his condition is critical.

My mom told me over the phone that she was able to visit him last night. He was on morphine, but she said that he was coherent and didn't sound as if he was on drugs. She said it was difficult to see her brother with a tube sticking out of his head. He was able to use a phone later on and even called my mom at home to ask if she'd send e-mails to update or inform those who didn't know the situation. The situation is not good. It's not that the doctors think that he's doomed, they just wanted the family to know that this is a serious problem. The chances of him pulling through are as good as his chances of not making it.

My cousin, David (Alex's son), is in the Navy. He joined for two reasons: 1. there aren't many career options for professional trumpeters that pay well, and 2. he and his new wife--a type one diabetic and fellow musician--were in dire need of medical insurance. David finished basic and has been stationed in Norfolk, VA at the Navy School of Music for the past few months. His dad just visited him there two weeks ago. I don't know what type of computer and phone access they have there, but I'm sure he knows the situation. I'm also pretty sure that he can't leave. He's stuck there just like Chris is stuck in Philly with her newborn. I hope he pulls through. He should get the chance to meet his grandson.