Poised Over The Panic Button

I'm not going to do it. I am not going to freak out about the U.S.' 1-0 loss to Morocco last night (on home soil, mind you). I am going to breathe, and remind myself that this game is the equivalent of a preseason game. Great preseason's rarely equal subsequent success. Right, Falcons Fans?

I am concerned, of course, that our team captain may face an extended injury lay off leading into the World Cup, and our only established right fullback committed a gaffe (leading up to the lone goal) that had even a soccer novice, like myself, pulling what few hairs he has left out.

That being said, I trust Bruce. I have to think he is seeing the same things we are...that the team is better attacking with Convey on the field, that we need someone up top with McBride, and that Wolff is about as threatening as The Teletubbies - Bruce has to give Eddie Johnson a full game with McBride here in the next week.

Also, I have to remember that Morocco was one game away from qualifying for this World Cup, in what turned out to be a very strong African cycle. This was not a cupcake...or whatever the analogous pastry is at the Imperial Fez.

A disclaimer here...the US National Team is one of the only teams I refer to as "we". I work to avoid it when referring to professional outfits like the Hawks, Braves, Falcons, etc. The only other exception is any team related to Appalachian State. I feel like I can be an unabashed homer when it comes to my country, or my alma mater. For some reason, using "we" when talking about pro teams almost seems to be approaching restraining order territory.

The other sports item of interest to this blogger was last night's NBA Draft Lottery, where the Hawks were awarded the 5th pick in June's draft. The Raptors, the other team soiled by someone named Babcock, will pick 1st. It appears the Hawks are the only team in the league capable of being abjectly terrible for an extended period of time, and still not be awarded the #1 pick. No worries this time, though, as the draft has no true #1, and is deep enough to get a player at #5 that has as much potential as the #1 selection.

Of course, they always seem to get shuffled to just the right spot to prevent them from drafting a true impact player. Whether being 2nd last year, and almost browbeaten into taking Marvin Williams, or being 21st in 2003 - having to take Boris Diaw - when a 5th pick would have netted Dwayne Wade.

Speaking of Diaw, I really wish the national media would get off the "The Suns got a steal in Diaw" bandwagon. I'm sure it's real hard to find open shots, box out for rebounds, dish out assists, and generally be ignored by opposing defenses when you are playing with Shawn Marion and Steve Nash.

He was useless to the Hawks because he serves his purpose only when surrounded by supreme talent, of which Atlanta had none in his time here. Put Diaw on the Knicks, and he's right back to Anonymous European Guy. I would trade him and draft picks for Joe Johnson again on any day of the week. The Hawks need a superstar, and they acquired a budding one when they picked up Johnson. People seem to forget that the Hawks, in fact, picked up one of only 5 players to average 20 points and 6 assists a game this season. Read the list, it's pretty impressive company. Overall, his numbers were better than Diaw's, but let's not let facts get in the way of an easy media target.

Housed

I've probably only caught Fox's hit med-drama House about a half a dozen times, but it has already succeeded in turning me into pseudo-hypochondriac. It's not that I constantly worry about my health, but the show finds the most abstract ways to place its patients on the brink of certain death, and I can't help but try and translate its sensationalism to the real world.

Week after week, these doctors are forced to deal with mysterious, undiagnosed, diseases...all from people living in the general vicinity of the hospital. Just another reason to stay away from Central New Jersey.

I have no problem suspending disbelief when watching. The only thing that really bothers me about the show is Omar Epps' character. Epps, whom they dragged away from playing athletes in various sports movies, plays Dr. Eric Foreman. The show is on Fox. Seems like they could have done a little research and found out that another relatively successful Fox show has/had a major character of the same name. Is that too much to ask? I guess the Fox Network's Random Name Generator must have reached capacity.

Anyway, while feeling less than 100% healthy over the last 18 hours, I've found myself cataloging random occurrances in my life that could potentially lead to being infected with maladies such as an agressive brain fungus or the bubonic plague (both actual diagnoses on the show). Now, a brief listing from the last few days. Please, pray for my health:

- Walked on rubberized track in sandals...sandal thong becomes detached from insole the next day.
- Used Splenda...thought it tasted like sugar
- Drank energy drink after drinking coffee...felt twitchy
- Ate at Taco Bell...later forced to hold in gas
- Pet a stray cat...cat meowed
- Found bug sitting on thumb...shrieked like a little girl

Of course, this illin' could just be the result of drinking too much and not getting enough sleep this weekend, but I must remain vigilant! That case of scarlet fever could be just one airborne mite away!

While we are on the subject of being less than 100%, I have to apologize to Brian "Spanky" McCann. Frenchy's wing-man has become the latest victim of my Fantasy Baseball curse. After adding him to my team last week, the Braves cherubic catcher promptly went out and got hurt this weekend during a homeplate collision with the Diamondbacks' Eric Byrnes.

I personally take the blame not only for picking him up, but also for saying he was like "Greg Olson, with a better bat"...which preceded him almost replicating Olson's horrific ankle injury, circa 1992. Thankfully, he should be back soon. The guy who hit Olson in '92 was Ken Caminiti. For Eric Byrnes' sake, I'll avoid making any comparisons there. We'll just say he "Erstaded" McCann, and leave it at that.

I just saw this as I was about to post - another reminder how men and animals aren't all that different. Kentucky Derby winner, Barbaro, is facing a fight for his life. Does this stop him from spittin' some game at the mares? Hell no!

I'm With You, Deadspin: The Barcenal Post-Mortem

I have to start by giving much love to the guys over at Deadspin. Not only is it one of my favorite websites, but my mentioning on their site (in a classic bit of shameless passive-agressive whoring) that I had a blog about Barcelona-Arsenal drove over a hundred new viewers to my blog. Thanks for checking the page out, fellow Deadspinners. I am now their bitch, whether they like it or not.

The problem now, of course, is that someone other than my friends might be reading, so I may have to update this place a little more frequently. Drat.

Now, on to the game. I have to say, it was entertaining. It had many of the things you look for in a classic - redemption (the maligned Sol Campbell nodding home Arsenal's lone goal with a noggin that would make Barry Bonds jealous), controversy (Jens Lehman's sending off), and an unexpected hero (Barca's Juliano Belletti 5-holing Almunia for the decisive strike).

By the way, any non-soccer fans who think all players are either dwarfish waifs, or tall, lean dudes need to take a look at 3/4's of The Gunners backline yesterday. Eboue, Campbell, and Toure look like they could be swapped for Brooking, Hartwell, and Williams and fool many casual NFL fans (Ashley Cole, the 4th member, would naturally be a safety...in charge of covering the Tight End). They were physically, and tactically, massive for Arsenal's valiant effort.

That being said, I think most fans agree that it would have been more entertaining had referee Terje Hauge played advantage on Lehman's sending off. It would have put Barca up 1-0, and allowed us to see these two well-oiled machines going at each other at full strength. Hauge even somewhat regrets the decision. Somewhat.

I can't fault him completely, he had already blown his whistle when Lehman took out Eto'o (I always wanna write E'too), and had no choice to issue the red after that. I certainly can't blame him for Lehman's misguided challenge. After seeing that, I really wonder if Jurgan Klinsmann is rethinking his choice for starting keeper at the World Cup. Only Keeper To Ever Win The Golden Ball, or Only Guy Ever Sent Off In A Champions' League Final? Hmmmm...

The Ultimate Challenge was less than advertised as well. Neither Ronaldinho or Henry found the back of the net. Henry missed (or was stopped by a solid Victor Valdes) three golden chances, and Ronaldinho seemed miscast, and out fo sorts, by not being allowed to direct the attack centrally.
Still, both players had their flashes of brilliance - Henry's exquisite freekick finding Campbell's XXXL cranium for the opening salvo, and Ronaldinho with the pass that played Eto'o through before the Cameroonian was toppled by Lehman's ill-fated lunge. They were certainly factors, but were upstaged by other stories.

What's up with the sour grapes from TH14? I know the officiating was less than stellar, but I can't say it didn't go both ways. When you consider that Hauge took a goal away from Barca with his red card decision, and then bought Eboue's dive to set up Arsenal's lone tally, he essentially presided over a 2 goal swing for the North London side.

After this match, I do get the feeling that Henry will be plying his trade in The Nou Camp next year. Watching them celebrate in front of him, feeling like some of his younger, shakier teammates let him down, and being ignored by Arsene Wenger when pleading for attacking help does not add up to leading the team into Ashburton Grove next fall. Henry, though, still appears to be saying the right things to the Arsenal faithful.

(UPDATE: But What Do I Know?)

If you're looking for another take on the game, the newest member of my blog roll, Braves & Birds, has his review here. He's a Barca fan, by the way.

I know, it's hard to tell.

Hulk Henry vs. The Ultimate Jogador

I'm a little torn in who to pull for in The UEFA Champions' League Final tomorrow. On the one hand, you have Thierry Henry's Arsenal. Henry is one of my favorite players to watch, plays for the team that is rivals with not only Manchester United, but also Chel$ea (the biggest spenders in English soccer), and plays for a team now known for it's attacking flair. (Also the team featured in Nick Hornby's "Fever Pitch", back when they were known as "boring old Arsenal")

On the other hand, you have Ronaldinho's Barcelona. Ronaldinho is also one of my favorite players to watch, plays for the team that is chief rivals with Real Madrid...who make Chelsea and Man Utd. look like skinflints...and plays for a team known for its attacking flair.

See the problem here?

The only time I think I was this torn (and I'm serious here) was when Hulk Hogan wrestled The Ultimate Warrior in WrestleMania VI.
Both wrestlers were fan favorites, and were at the pinnacles of their respective fame. I ended up pulling for The Warrior because he was the new guard. Little did I know, he would not be around nearly as long as Hogan, thanks to reality TV. UW eventually won, but only held onto the title for about a year.

The match kind of failed to live up to its billing, really, and that's my concern with this match-up tomorrow. One reason is because it's almost too good to be true, and another is because I'll be watching - at least through the magic of DVR. It seems like when I do watch matches, they end up being 1-nil or nil-nil, and decided on PK's. When I don't, or can't, watch, they turn out like this.

In case you're wondering, I'm pulling for Arsenal. I'm more of a fan of the EPL, but am warming up to La Liga now that I can watch it on a regular basis on Gol-TV. That's not the only reason, though. Among other things, Arsenal have never won the Champions League, they are moving out of their historic ground, Highbury, this year, and winning this match could also allow them to keep Henry, who is rumored to be heading (as luck would have it) to Barcelona next year. While the idea of Henry and Ronaldinho united in attack is enough to make a soccer nerd's head explode, I just feel TH14 belongs in the red and white of Arsenal.

Really, though, there are two things I'm hoping for. One is that the outcome of this game, which kicks off at 2:30 EDT, is not revealed to me by some spoiler before I get home to my DVR. Last week, the UEFA Cup Final outcome was ruined by, of all things, the sports section on my personalized Google Homepage. Who knew?

My other hope? That these two magicians play like anything close to this tomorrow:



Of course, just not as blurry, and without the bad cable access graphics...

Girl Drink Drunk

As I was walking back to work today, heavily creamed and sugared Dunkin' Donuts Iced Coffee in hand, I began to wonder if I was the coffee equivalent of a "Girl Drink Drunk".

Maybe it's just in the male world, but you can get alot of crap from the guys that either a)only put sugar in their coffee, or b) drink it black. Here I am, not only putting cream and sugar in it, but also icing it down so I don't huwt the woof of my widdew mouf. Did I mention I also had them put French Vanilla flavoring in it? Geez.

For some reason, one of my favourite Kids In The Hall skits sprang to mind (note I used the "u" in favourite, since they're Canadian). For me, the genesis of the phrase "Girl Drink Drunk":



Okay, hopefully you're still reading, and not just watching that. The phrase was probably used before them, but their skit is what I always think of. It's also one of those references I can use to test just how in tune I am with a potential friend...if they've heard of that skit, or Conan O'Brien as Moleculo on SNL, they score major cool points. Okay, nerd points.

In some ways, this coffee thing is alot like when you first start drinking. You go for the wine coolers, and the Zima with jolly ranchers, but are eventually ridiculed into choking down either MGD or The Beast. It hurts then, of course, but I am a big believer in the idea that if I didn't drink that swill, I wouldn't be the beer snob I am today.

Guys usually won't admit it, but we like the girly drinks too. I remember one time when me and 2 buddies ordered Mudslides, and felt wrong for liking them so much. Really, though, what's not to like? Milkshake? Kahlua? Where do I order? It's embarassing, but it happened. I have yet to develop the cajones to order one solo in a normal bar setting.

For the record, though, I do enjoy a good dirty Gin Martini (on the rocks of course, can't get people whispering by using the martini glass), and I can do Scotch if it's a really good Scotch - none of that Red Label crap.

As you can see, this iced coffee had me thinking for some reason. I began to wonder -maybe this isn't the only thing my coffee says about me. Maybe I really like my coffee like I like my women. Do they need to be as close to white as possible, extra sweet, and a little frigid? That can't be good. Maybe I just haven't had the fortunate experience of drinking some straight-up hot, black coffee yet? Maybe the, uh, coffee...yeah, coffee...doesn't like to add Vanilla flavoring to itself. Who knows? I've also heard hot tea can be good, but you have to make sure it knows you're not a cop.

Then I remembered why I hate Sex and the City so much. While I may write this for a laugh, that show would get an overly ponderous 30 minutes out of this premise. Even worse, some woman would probably mull this drivel over afterwards. What a waste of syndication.

Trivia Update: Since it's the inspiration for my title, I have to let you all know that it was a good week, trivia wise. My Wednesday night crew took 2nd place at Mellow Mushroom, while our Thursday night team notched a dominating victory at Willy's. For the first time in my 9-10 years of bar trivia, I was part of a perfect game. It's quite an impressive feat when 8 people can pool their useless knowledge, and lay waste to feeble minded drunks. You know you're jealous.

Meowntin Time

It's one of those things you hate to admit to people...almost like admitting you don't have cable. A ubiquitous modern luxury that I don't have. I don't have central A/C. Don't worry, I'm okay - for now. The true Summertime might be a little sweaty, but it's currently the perfect weather for keeping the windows open and enjoying the sounds of the city at night.

That is, except for the particularly vocal cat that seems to hang out in my complex's backyard after dark. It just ocurred to me that this cat is probably not just loud, but also in heat...which makes sense. When I feel that way, I often like to roam the streets, in the middle of the night, screaming at people.


Certainly an odd feeling when you're trying to get to sleep, and you are just hoping some quadriped of similar size would show up and give this cat what it wants. Then I think about having to listen to the sounds of catsex - or worse, interspecies mating. I realize now that my loud wall-unit air conditioner might actually serve a purpose other than making my bedroom 5 degrees cooler.

You'd figure the cat could pick up a sack of catnip, and find a feral Siamese somewhere on Pounce De Lion to take care of everything.

Forgive me...that was such a bad joke, I had to share it with someone.

Editor's Note: I'm looking into this Google AdSense program, and I have to figure out how to move it around in my template...so bear with me while it sits at the top of my screen. I think it would look much more congruous off to the right, don't you?

Gassed

There is no doubt that your average citizen is tired of paying nearly $3 a gallon for gas, myself included. I think about how much more money I would have if I were paying $1.50 to $2.00 a gallon less to fill the tank of my horrificly fuel-inefficient Chevy Blazer. I also tell myself that if gas prices drop shortly after Bush leaves office, I really won't be able to argue that he's "in bed" with Big Oil...then I try and think up a tired Clinton joke to follow that thought.


I don't think he is, first of all. Even if he was, the oil companies in this country don't control the price of a barrel of oil, they control the price of the end product. Overall consumption, rather, is the primary reason for the rise in oil company profits. The rise in large engine vehicles, like my Blazer (which I'm hoping to get rid of when I pay it off), and the explosion of the Chinese economy have led to this "problem".

If this was all just gouging, ask yourself this - why wouldn't one of the few smaller companies take the initiative to drop the bottom out of their prices, and generate a higher volume of business? The answer is, they can't.

This brings me to the purpose for this post. I've been reading alot lately how the Federal Government should levy a Windfall Tax on "Big Oil", due to its record profits. Some are even arguing that this would somehow lower the price of gas. Personally, I would like to know how causing a company to make less money per unit sold would cause them to lower prices, and not raise them to cover the difference. Lowering prices would only cause the company to make lower profits, likely causing them to shed corporate weight in the form of employees. That, of course, would not be very good for the economy. Combine that with doubting that this would lower prices, and I don't see any way this could possibly help the consumer.

This argument is oddly isolated to the oil industry, because we've enjoyed years of relative easy access to fuel that has now increased in price in almost absurd fashion. Consider this - when perusing the list of America's Most Profitable Companies, you see names like Wal-Mart, Home Depot, and Microsoft alongside those evil oil companies.

Are we to punish them for their excesses, too? Companies like Microsoft, IBM, Cisco, and Intel sell products crucial to most businesses day-to day operations. Those businesses then have to find a way to recoup to cost of those products in their end product or service...and also turn a profit to remain solvent. You could argue that IT companies turning record profits does more to effect our cost of living than gas. Those companies, however, don't have to post an adjustable product price in front of their building everyday.

We need to remember that the market will correct itself, as it always does...without the Federal Government's heavy hand. Auto makers are ramping up efforts to market and sell alternative fuel cars, and we are starting to think twice about buying the next Ford Expedition. It may suck right now, but in the long run, our economy, and environment, will be the better for it.

Ramble On

You knew it was going to happen eventually. I have nothing specific to blog about.

Now I see why people blog on specific subjects like sports, music, or politics. It's so much easier to have someone give you material to write about. I always kind of wanted to make this more about me, and not about just one aspect of me...thus, the title "A Trivial Pursuit". You know, you have to know more than just sports to win at that game. Although, it certainly helps me.

I could write just about music, but I don't necessarily attend enough concerts, listen to enough new CD's, or have enough knowledge of the industry to make it sound more than the rantings of some Amazon.com denizen.

I could write just about politics, but it's just such a pain in the ass. You have to have 50 citations, stories, and theories to make anything stick with the opposition. To me, politics isn't about that. It's more about what sounds right to you, and works in practice...which we all know is fiscal conservatism, and social moderation. Wait, we don't? Well, I'll make sure to do my footnotes on that stuff later. Maybe that's why I don't like blogging on politics. It reminds me too much of writing a research paper - usually the day before it's due. I just remembered internal documentation,. Yeech.

Of course, I can come off as a serviceable sports writer. But as you all know, I haven't played competitive sports since the 8th Grade, and I wasn't any good even then. The only sport I was ever decent at was soccer, and I quit playing that when I was 9. Maybe I wasn't even good at that, I just thought I was.

I read other sports blogs, too, and they make me feel like I couldn't possibly be as thorough (or as single-mindedly obsessed) as these guys. I'll just leave it to the pros at Deadspin. That's the kind of blog I would want if I were in the sports blog world.

And I wouldn't even dare blog about dating...I've decided I can't figure women out at all. I think women have a much more varying list of what they think is hot than men do. Not just "I like blondes", or "I think Asian women are beautiful", but they seem to have affinities for general male characteristics. I've actually learned that there is a group of women out there (and I guess it isn't a small one, after all) who think bald/ing men are sexy. I have to be thankful for that. The one that really weirded me out though, was when these 2 girls from my church told me they thought Masters champion Phil Mickelson was hot. If you couldn't pick him out of a crowd, here he is:



Note the moobs and the beer belly...which is actually the one feature one of the girls (who's in pretty good shape) said she found very sexy. A beer gut? What the hell am I going to gym for? I am sure it doesn't hurt that he's the 2nd best golfer in the world right now behind Tiger.

I think the thing that bothers me the most about these revelations is the fact that I associate both baldness and beer guts with old men. I can't help but think there is some sort of Electra Complex thing going on here. It would be like guys being all over crows feet and stretchmarks. Again, though, the baldness thing...good for Eric, and Ed Harris.

Who knows? I might be a better blogger if I actually had a computer at my apartment. I spend so much time in front of one at work though, I feel it would just be masochistic to do so right now. So, I must write my blogs in stealthy fashion, hoping not to get busted by my superiors. They already think I'm trying online dating because I have a MySpace page, so I'd rather not give them more ammunition.

One thing writing this blog has done for me is help enhance my love for the website's Wikipedia, and YouTube. I just discovered how to embed videos from the latter on here, so I'll leave you with one of my favorites.



I don't care if you don't like soccer - Thierry Henry is amazing.

Stay tuned for something substantive!

John Rocker, Metrosexual

Out having a few beers with my co-workers last Friday, I had one of the more random Atlanta celebrity sighting's in recent memory. John Rocker. The only one that tops him is seeing Kordell Stewart in the Disco Kroger parking lot.

Kordell Stewart hanging out in Atlanta, by the way, is not going to do alot to assuage the persistent rumors that he's gay. Right, the hip hop scene. Sure, Kordell.

Back to Rocker. I won't lie, back in the day, I loved this guy. He was the loud mouth redneck that many Atlanta fans have been longing for. Seriously, we've never really had that guy who was unequivocally loved by his own fans, and hated by every one else. Not only that - as a closer, all the dude did was strike people out. The only game-ender as good as a walk-off homerun is a flamethrowing closer doing his thing. Add the twitchy insanity of Rocker, and it made Braves games of 1999-2001 a blast.

I even cut the guy a break after the infamous Sports Illustrated article, which caused him to be permanently labelled an intolerant racist. I always felt that he said things alot of people think, and if a New York player had said it, it would have been okay. Again, though, the national sports media felt it necessary to show their indignance for this backward Southern boy because he went after their Mecca, New York City.

It always seems to be neglected that his best friends on the Braves were Bruce Chen, a Panamanian Asian, and Andruw Jones, a Curacaoan of African decent.

Of course, this article seemed to spell the downfall for Rocker. After the subsequent suspension by Major League Baseball, he never seemed to have the same edge as before. In the mental game of being a closer, he had finally psyched himself out.

This article also seemed to make it a requirement to include this sentence in any story about John Rocker:

"Rocker, who gained infamy for his insensitve comments towards gays, foreigners, and African-Americans in a 1999 Sports Illustrated article..."

After many failed attempts to revive his lagging career, he's now retired from baseball. Even worse, he's become this guy:



What the Hell? Where's the camouflage hat with a fish-hook in it? Where are the Carhartt pants? I couldn't believe it. The guy looked like he had just come from a beauty salon, and his cashmire sweater was showing enough man-cleavage to make even Fabio cringe! What a douchebag. His outfit was beginning to make me wonder if I should be more concerned about him than about Kordell.

I have to feel for the guy, though, and for many of the Good Ol' Boys who find themselves in Atlanta. Deep down inside, he probably wants to stay true to his Macon roots...but he also wants to hook up with the high-maintenance Buckhead hotties who think the woman from Sex And The City are just like their group of friends! His cash probably helps - but unfortunately, you've also got to Metro it up a bit if you want to go for the kill shot.

While we are on the subject of these types of girls, I have one thing I have to say. A real martini is olives, vermouth, and either gin or vodka! Just because it comes in a martini glass doesn't make it a martini! They can serve Manhattan's in those, too, but you don't here anyone calling it a Manhattan-tini! Man, I hate what that stupid show has done to the women of America.

It's about time

Some of you may be thinking that about my blog, but I am writing this about Dominique Wilkins.

If you remember, in one of my earlier blogs, I came out as a Hawks fan. I was a Hawks fan before I was a Braves fan, which seems strange to people nowadays. 'Nique was one of the biggest reasons for that. After Hank Aaron, he was the first real sports superstar to arrive in Atlanta (sorry, Dale Murphy). If you want to see what made him so exciting, watch the video I dug up:



Of course, this video seems to illustrate the biggest stereotype about #21, that all he could do was dunk. Kind of hard to believe he averaged 24 points a game in his career, isn't it? Those 7' NBA centers must have been clueless on how to defend dunks in the 1980's.

Anyway, some of my friends know one of the quickest ways to get me riled up is to start ripping Dominique. I personally feel he is one of the most unnecessarily put upon players in recent NBA history. Roundly criticized for being selfish, never winning an NBA title, or the aforementioned proclivity for the dunk, he was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame on his 2nd try last week. I am very happy he's there, but it's still 1 year too late. He deserved the honor of being a first ballot Hall of Famer.

The biggest problem for Wilkins is that he's too often compared to players like Jordan, Bird, and Magic. "He didn't make his teammates better like those guys," people will say, citing the lack of championship banners in Philips Arena. They seem to forget that each of those 3 players had at least one future Hall of Fame teammate, playing in his prime, during their championship runs - usually two. 'Nique was only briefly graced with an aging Moses Malone, and a cast of role players to try and bring home a title.

Considering that the Hawks often went toe-to-toe with the Celtics, Pistons, and Bulls in the 80's and 90's, I think it's fair to say that Wilkins did make his mediocre teammates better. You take him away, and the Hawks would have been as bad as they are now. He was considered one of the best players of his era, which was unquestionably the NBA's Golden Era.

He had his best chance to reach the NBA Finals in 1994. Unfortunately, as I've referenced before, he was denied that chance by one of the worst trades in NBA history.

I hope with this induction, he'll get a little more credit for what he accomplished. I doubt it though, because it wouldn't fit into the national media's decided bias against the Atlanta's professional teams. If you watch sports as much as I do, you can see it. Any chance to take a shot at our fans, our franchises, or our overzealousness for college football, is gobbled up like the free pressroom buffet at the Georgia Dome. Seriously, sportswriters all seem to be morbidly obese for some reason. It has to be the buffets.

I'm sure most of my female readers (which seems to be most of my readers for some reason) have already navigated away, so I'll leave you with this - A statistical comparison between 'Nique, and 2 players I consider of similar quality, Clyde Drexler and Isiah Thomas:

Dominique
Games: 1,074
PTS: 26,668
PPG: 24.8
RPG: 6.7
APG: 2.5
FG% .461
FT% .811
STL: 1,378

Thomas
Games: 979
PTS: 18,822
PPG: 19.2
APG: 9.3
RPG: 3.6
STL: 1,861
FG%: .452
FT%: .759

Clyde
Games: 1086
Pts: 22195
PPG: 20.4
RPG:6.1
APG: 5.6
STL: 2207
FG%: .472
FT%: .788

Not a huge difference, aside from the other two players being blessed with better supporting casts that allowed them both to win 2 NBA titles. Yet, you never hear either of these players criticized or dismissed as widely as Dominique. Why is that? I'll let you figure that out for yourself.

Incidentally, both Drexler and Thomas made the NBA's 50 Greatest Players team, and Dominique did not. He was even passed over in favor of 2nd Fiddles like Kevin McHale, James Worthy, and Scottie Pippen, as well as NBA disappointment, Bill Walton. It's one of the most disgusting exclusions in the history of arbitrary, self-congratulatory sports lists. Yeah, I get mad about those things...but you probably get pissed off about The OC.

For now, I just have to congratulate "The Human Highlight Film" for this achievement. It is well deserved.

Now, if we could only get Murph into Cooperstown, I wouldn't be so bitter anymore.

Desperately Seeking Songs

I've had my Sirius Satellite Radio for almost a month now, and I have to say it was a wise purchase. Regular radio just can't compete with the selection of artists, genres, sports, etc. Where else can I listen to live play-by-play of the Merseyside Derby, while staying up to date on this thing the kids are calling "Rock & Roll"?

I think the best part about my particular receiver, is the one feature it has that is almost like methadone to a channel surfin' fiend like myself. It' s called "S-Seek". Basically, you can save songs you like, and then be notified when it's about to be played on one of the channels.

My receiver only stores 10 at a time, unfortunately, so I have to be discerning about what makes the list. The major rules are pretty much that it A) has to be a song I don't have on a CD, and B) isn't played on conventional radio too often.

I know you are dying to see my current list, along with my comments on each selection. So, without further ado:

"Roll On", The Little Willies - Not since Wet Willie has a band with the word "Willie" in it captured the hearts and minds of America's youth. I've got 5 words for you - Norah Jones' Country Side Project. This is an original (they do a few covers on their album, including Willie Nelson's "I Gotta Get Drunk), and it only adds to my desire to whisk Ravi Shankar's adorable love-child away to some secluded cabin, with nothing but a piano, a case of Sam Adams, and several pounds of uncooked steak (for eating, sickos). Another one of my unconventional crushes. And now, a moment of appreciation for this Siren:


Sigh...well, that didn't help me at all. Oh, and it's a great song, too.

"Carolina Rain", Ryan Adams - The Jacksonville, NC native working his alt-country roots on his latest album (although some people freak out when you associate the word "country" with Mr. Adams' name). A pretty dark little ditty, but those are probably my favorite type of Americana music. It's chock full of pedal steel, and if that ain't country - I'll kiss your ass.

"Off The Record", My Morning Jacket - The proverbial needle in the haystack. After hearing it for the 2nd or 3rd time, I decided it was S-Seek worthy. I then proceeded to not hear it for over a week, constantly hoping to trap it for my collection. The beginning vocals are oddly reminiscent of "Up on the Roof". Supposedly, these guys are in the Wilco vein of Alternative music, but this song actually has a nice little old-school punk sensibility to it.

"Take Five", Dave Brubeck Quartet - This is one of those jazz songs that you would know if you heard...it just oozes cool. A great saxophone driven song, with an insistent little piano part underneath. I'm told this was typical of this group's sound. Getting to hear stuff like this on the radio is what makes Sirius worth it.

"Illegal Smile", John Prine - Prine's quirky breakthrough hit. It's usually on Outlaw Country, which I guess means it doesn't fit into the Nashville perameters. That's probably why I like it so much. It's timeless in that you could have imagined Jimmie Rodgers writing a similar song back in the 20's. This actually just acquired S-Seek status today.

"Bonita Applebum", Tribe Called Quest - An unexpected entry. Easily one of my favorite rap songs (and groups) ever, I stumbled across this Tribe piece while making one of my infrequent visits to the Hip-Hop section of Sirius. It's a clever little rap love song, which seems to be a lost art in that genre these days. Funny, self-depricating, great music underneath...and the fact that you can infer that the girl's name means "Beautiful Applebutt". Giggle.

"Beautiful Wreck", Shawn Mullins - Most people look at Mullins as a one-hit wonder, thanks to his overplayed "Rock-a-Bye" from the late 90's. Us in Atlanta know that he's been around since, just not getting much notice, including from me. This is a great song, and Mullins has a very unique vocal style for a singer/songwriter. One that I'm convinced I could pull off in karaoke.

"One Dime at a Time", Steep Canyon Rangers - These are my boys. I first saw them play at the Boone Saloon in 2004. Their bassist tipped me off to Midtown's Red Light Cafe, where I saw them for the second time. They're classified as bluegrass, but the lead singer lacks the high, lonesome sound of the old school purveyors. Really, they are more a mix of old-school country and bluegrass. A great live act, too.

"Don't Wait Too Long", Madeline Peyroux - Yes, I am heterosexual. I just love this chick's voice. The only knock on it is that it was used in that goofy Dockers' commercial where the chick and dude are eye humping each other from seperate trolleys, before trying to get on the other one's trolley - only to have it pull away. They think they missed their chance, but wait! The object of their affection has jumped off their trolley too, and they are both left on the street together! Blleeech - now that I realize that this is where I first heard this, it may not be staying on my list too much longer. If you haven't seen the commercial, enjoy this song - filth free.

"Do You Realize", The Flaming Lips - One of those bands that everyone who listens to them seems to love. This is a great song, and a testament to the diversity of this group. I figure I should get into them at some point, but then I'd have to take this off my S-Seek. Hard to believe they are only known in the mainstream for their novelty hit "She Don't Use Jelly".

A few other songs have served proudly - "The March" by Robert Randolph and The Family Band, Traveling Wilbury's "Handle with Care", Death Cab for Cutie's "Crooked Teeth, Beth Orton's "Conceived", and my pop guilty pleasure "Bad Day" by Daniel Powter. Feist is currently bucking for S-Seek honors.

The thought of having a receiver with more storage space brings a solitary tear to my eye. Sometimes, I think it's the only thing that keeps me going...but then I just go see what's on the TV.

Burnt Head, Frozen Arse

Ah,the joys of being a redhead (almost "former", in my case). Only we can seem to be able to get sunburn in 45 degree weather. You would think having to put on a toboggan before you go outside would mean you are safe from harmful UV rays, but no. Now, I am getting reacquainted with my old friend, Solarcane.

This defintely explains why my people were not only prone to chilly places, but generally overcast areas like the British Isles and Scandanavia. As I've often said, we don't tan...we burst into flames! I actually do own a few bottles of sunblock, but since I am not a girl, nor carry a man-purse, I never have it when I actually need it! On the bright side (really, no pun intended when I wrote that), I got the burn doing a nice little service project for my church on Saturday.

It's kind of odd, the things you get roped into doing when lending a helping hand. We spent 3 hours shovelling a 7-foot high pile of gravel so a garbage truck could get to the dumpster of the Atlanta Youth Academy. I don't know that we necessarily made the world a better place, but maybe...just maybe...we made the students' learning environment slightly less smelly. That's something, right? On top of that, I got to flash my rippling biceps for all the ladies in attendance. They are all still fanning themselves, in a fit of Southern Belle swooning. At least, they are in my mind.

Of course, we also were able to amuse some of the neighborhood locals, as they observed a couple dozen yuppie crackers breaking our backs on a Saturday morning. I think they would have enjoyed it more knowing I had received only 4 hours of sleep the night before.

I was also reminded, upon seeing a stoplight in their cafeteria, about the dreaded prospect of silent lunch! Did everyone have this? For the fortunately unitiated...the light is somehow triggered by increases in sound. Once it reaches red, you have silent lunch for a period of time. Our school had a 3 strikes, and you're out rule. At the 3rd offense, it was silent lunch for the rest of the period. I don't know what company developed these sound activated lights, but I blame them. This appears to be the only logical use for such an invention.

We got done at the school in the early afternoon. After a long nap, I got the other spectrum of this weather, spending 3 hours spot-freezing my cheeks to the cold bleachers of scenic Russ Chandler Stadium, on the underratedly picturesque campus of Georgia Tech. My friend, Will, was in town from Charlotte, and wanted to go to a college baseball game for some reason. I find college baseball pretty boring. Not only is there generally less talent than a Single A clash, there's no beer. The pitchers generally suck, too (if they didn't they'd be in the minors somewhere). This results in teams scoring twice as many runs as they have hits. Not a good sign.

Fortunately, the Jackets were playing N. Carolina, and any chance to root against the S--t Heels is welcome on my calendar. Tech won 11-1, and the baseball gods smiled on me by getting the game over in under 3 hours. A sporting miracle!

Okay, random thought time. I am frequently subjected to Bowflex commercials on numerous cable TV stations. I don't know if anyone else suffers from this hounding. Apparently, the Bowflex suite of products has now grown to include Crispy, Original Recipe Bowflex, some sort of Bowflex with free-weight simulating discs ("It's really smooth, it almost glides." the faux random- guy- in- the- gym claims!), and adjustable barbells. I'll spare you the links. My question is this - are we honestly supposed to believe all the uber-toned, muscular men and women got their figures from these contraptions?

I've now realized the best part about my blog. My friends are no longer subject to my rambling e-mails. They can now just visit this virtual tribute to my lack of conciseness. You're welcome.

I Have The Power!

Fine! The best title I could come up with was He-Man's signature quote. Sue me.

I was thinking about some of my not so useful abilities yesterday. The first, of course, is that I'm pretty strong at general trivia. Of course, my dedication to this type of competition, and the fact that I hold joint custody of no less than 4 geni of Trivial Pursuit, were what inspired then name of my blog. Generally, if I'm playing at a bar, my team has a better than fair chance of finishing in the top 3. I can't take all the credit, because I usually am teamed with some pretty sharp folks.

Of course, it becomes difficult to win when you are playing against a team that is clearly cheating. It's happened several times...you know...people on their cell phones during questions...the trivia poo-bah is too busy, or lazy, to do anything about it. It really annoys me. I know, it's all for fun, but it's not really trivia if you can just call a friend for the answer. Last night really pissed me off. These douchebags at my regular Wednesday night trivia spot have been regular winners. We suspected they had been cheating, so we watched. I have to give them credit, they've gone the next step to texting. Much easier to hide. Grr...

We drew the hosts attention to it afterwards. He's actually one of the better hosts out there, so hopefully he'll snap these punks out of it. The main guy is one of those people you can look at, and if someone told you they were so juvenile as to cheat at trivia, you'd believe them. Sadly, he's actually a college graduate.

On to more positive things. I think I've found a better way to channel my Road Rage. Satellite radio has definitely helped, but I have become Short-cut Man. Now, more than ever, I drive home on a serpentine route. It usually happens about twice a week. I wish I could draw a map, but I'll try and recap:

-Down Clairmont towards I-85...severely backed up...double back to Buford Hwy., down Briarwood to the NE Expressway, turn onto Druid Hills, avoid the jam at Druid and Briarcliff by going down Executive Pkwy. to Shepherd's Ln., and finally onto Briarcliff...which backs up at N. Decatur. Down Emory Dr. to N. Decatur and back onto Briarcliff before finally assuming my regular route home. I think the only job where this might come in handy on a regular basis is if I was a cab driver.

I don't think I'm crazy enough, though. I've noticed that even in Atlanta, a pretty unfriendly city to cabs, that the drivers would rather mow down a pedestrian than spend too much time between fares. I've had a few close shaves.

My final power seems to be predicting my own demise. Whether it be relationships, or jobs, I will either see it coming, or unknowingly make a prophetic statement regarding said fall from grace. I was reading an old e-mail I wrote the other day about my last job...the mortgatge job that I wished I had never taken. In it, I wrote "I'm convinced the key to all sales jobs is to get through the first 6 months without quitting, or getting fired. I'm halfway there!"

I was terminated the next day...

Busted

Somewhere between my junior year of college and now, I've managed to ruin my enjoyment of parts of, or the entire, NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. My general M.O. when following a sporting event is to pick the underdog, and root for them - unless they are playing one of "my" teams.

Ever since I've started putting money on this thing, no matter how little an amount, it hasn't been as fun. To win any tournament pool, you have to pick a few upsets. They are going to happen, you just have to guess right. It's entirely dumb luck.

Well, I'm pretty much done in my pool. I'm in 2nd to last place, even though I've picked more right than wrong. Since everyone inevitably has very similar Final Four picks, these things are almost always won in the first few rounds. The bright side is that I can now pull for the remaining underdogs. The non-monetary downside, is having to listen to all the douchebags proclaiming that they "called" Wichita St., George Mason, or Bradley making the Sweet Sixteen. Like they are some sort of basketball guru, and not just lucky. Most of these guys couldn't tell you where any of these schools were...except maybe Wichita St.

In case you're curious, George Mason is in Fairfax, VA, and although it sounds like a private school, is actually the largest public university in Virginia. Virginia seems to do this with most of it's public schools (see James Madison and Old Dominion) Bradley is in Peoria, IL.

These are the things I endeavor to find out about when I'm bored at work. Wichita State's mascot, by the way, is the Shockers. I can't help but think that this mascot has recently caused many septegenarian WSU fans to unwittingly make an obscene gesture as they try and mimic the enthusiasm of the student fans. Georgia fans know what I'm talking about. For those that don't, I'll let you do your own research.

I just wish Appalachian State would make a run like this so people would be scrambling for Google to find out where we're located. For the record, in Boone, North Carolina. This also gives me an excuse to post my favorite picture of my Alma Mater:

Sometimes, I wonder why I ever left. Of course, then I'd just be the old guy that can't let go...as opposed to the one that pretends he has. Then, tailgating on Fall Saturdays reminds me how unhealthy it is reliving the college lifestyle!

Chef and The Butcher

So, my last few blogs have focussed mainly on the 2 Deadly Sins I seem to struggle with most...lust and gluttony. I figured I'd get the spotlight off my shortcomings, and back to a little pontificating on the world at large.

Isaac Hayes Quits South Park

Ostensibly, because of the show's religious intolerance. I guess he hasn't been paying attention to the show for the last 10 years (has it been on that long?). Most find it as no coincidence that he quit after the show satirized Scientology, of which he is a follower. I know it's not always easy to laugh at yourself, but it is never hard to laugh at Tom Cruise...and you would have to think he was the inspiration for said lampooning. Of course, upon reading up on the "religion" on one of my favorite resources, Wikipedia, it's hard not to think that they aren't all a little crazy. To that end, it also doesn't surprise me that one of them would flip out and quit a show that has made a sport of ridiculing organized religion...even those that don't involve spaceships and galactic tyrant aliens.

Oddly, the only 2 links to this story I found when I Googled it were from British papers. It makes me worry that Scientologists are more powerful than once realized!

Milosevic Found Dead in His Cell

"The Butcher of The Balkans" died of natural causes at 64. In case you didn't know, he wasn't in there post-conviction - his trial was still ongoing. It was about to start Kindergarten, actually...at that magical age of 5! This dog and pony show was, of course, organized by the bureaucracy to end all bureaucracies - The UN - who took 2 years to present their case!

Where was ADA Jack McCoy when we needed him?! He would have nailed Sloby's ass to the wall after Det. Stabler beat a confession out of him, and left enough camera time for ADA Serena Southerlyn:

Ahh, Elisabeth Rohm. She's one of the less heralded Law & Order babes. Probably my favorite, though. I could never really get excited about Angie Harmon, Jill Hennessee, or Stephanie March...but Liz had me at hello. For the record, I did not find the fact that (in her final episode)her character was outed as a lesbian hot in the slightest.

Damn. I knew I couldn't make it through a whole blog.

While we are here, though - put her on the list of minor celebrities I fancy, along with Monk's new assistant (Traylor Howard), and Giada De Laurentiis from The Food Network.

Who names a girl Traylor, by the way? You might as well just start sticking your finger down their throat after they nurse, so they can get used to having an eating disorder.

Wrestling My Inner Dumbass

There are 2 sides to most men. There's the side our mother tried to raise to be sweet, sensitive, and respectful of women. Then, there's our inherent manly side, which wants to look at boobies, drink beer, and make our friends smell our farts.

This is a hinderance to many men, save for the ones who are either complete dumbasses or homosexual. Jonas Salk, for example, probably would have discovered the polio vaccine 5 year earlier if his Inner Dumbass wasn't constantly imploring him to stare at his assistant's rack.

Nowhere has the struggle between these two forces been more clear to me than in my trip to the Beth Orton concert last night. While looking like an intelligent, feeling, modern man at a performance by one of the foremost Sad Bastardesses - my internal dialogue was going something like this:

Me: Man, this is a great show...Willy Mason was a great opening act.
Dumbass: Geez, there sure are alot of lesbians here.
Me: What? Of course there are, she's a female singer/songwriter. What do you expect?
Dumbass: Dude, check out these lesbos next to us, they are wasted!
Me: No...I won't, it will be too obvious. Crap! I looked.
Dumbass: They aren't bad looking, huh? I bet they are going to have some drunken woman-sex when they get home.
Me: Shut up! I don't care if they do or don't, I'm here for the show. Now be quiet, Beth Orton's coming on stage.
Dumbass: Holy crap. She's totally not wearing a bra.
Me: (Aloud, to Shelby) Hey, she's not wearing a bra!
Dumbass: Gotcha!
Me: Dammit!!

I hope you can now appreciate the extreme amount of self-control it takes for us to strike this delicate balance.

You're not a thief, you're just a fat kid!

I think I could be a competitive eater.

Seriously. I went to my favorite sushi buffet for lunch today, and I'm still feeling it. It was all a blur. I had about 30 minutes, so it was definitely not a task to be undertaken with a companion. No talk...just eat.

I generally have one goal when visiting a buffet, and that's to cost the restaurant money. I definitely think I accomplished that today. Incidentally, I don't visit buffets much any more, because I would hate to return to the porker state of 18 months ago. I'm beginning to believe I work out just to counteract sporadic excursions such as my one to RuSan's.

The worst part (and when I say worst I mean best) about the place is that they love to find new and creative ways to use tempura batter. Whether it be sushi rolls, sweet potatoes, or zucchini.
So, the last half of my work day has been a batter coated, sushi-overdose, induced haze.

3 Things from the Low-Brow Unintentional Comedy Files:

-While reading the close-captioning of ESPN's pundits breakdown the NCAA brackets during lunch, the host directed this comment at Dick Vitale, in regards to a particular game: "Dick, I know you've been itching to hit this."

Someone please tell me he meant to say this.

-My friend pointed out to me that a box that once contained gallons of Laura Lynn homogenized milk was labelled as Lynn Homo Gal. I thought that would be the most unintentionally amusing string of 3 words I would see all weekend, until I was introduced to...

-Bum Ho Lee...he's an infielder for Korea in the World Baseball Classic. Even better, his jersey reads B. H. Lee. This means we can assume he goes by just Bum Ho.

Supposedly, this kind of stuff will stop being funny to me someday.

Please note, I've added a new link to The Daily Dickel. It's my buddy Jason's site (of Lynn Homo Gal fame). If you are just craving completely inappropriate humor...get your fix there. Enjoy!

I will wreck my car shortly...

I hope I'm wrong...but I finally got satellite radio. I've wanted it for about a year. I'm not really a big electronics nerd, but I am a radio guy, and the ability to listen to 120 different channels started the drool glands going. Here's the receiver I got:

And, no...that is not a song I would want on my monitor. I actually feel kind of dirty with it just being on my blog.

The receiver is kind of "resting" in my car right now because I can't get the "industrial strength" suction cup to affix to anything in my vehicle. Plus, there are wires everywhere...that might get old. I may have to get someone to "professionally install" it when I get paid next month. (Read: charge me $130 for something I could do myself, if I wanted to pull my hair out over the course of several hours.)

I went with Sirius, as you may already know. It appeals to the obscure sports geek in me...the one who wants to listen to low-level college football and basketball, and European soccer, on the radio.

My biggest concern is the remote control. Putting one of those in the hands of my father's son could be bad news. I'm referring to myself, if you're confused. I have the attention span of a coked-up gerbil when it comes to TV or Radio programming. Let's hope I can keep it in check but if you a see a viciously swerving green Chevy Blazer coming towards you...say hello.

I'm still fightin' sleep from last night. I went to the Wilco show in Athens, which rocked, of course. I even got the requisite Athens experience by ending up at the same bar as members of the band, and Mike Mills from R.E.M. I was tempted to start an "overrated" chant, but thought better of it. It is his turf, after all.

Welcome to South Canada

That slight chill in the air this morning had nothing to do with the dying throes of winter. Oh no...and stop wondering why you have the urge to try and crush people's heads from afar with your thumb and forefinger. I'll explain:

We were annexed by Canada yesterday. It's true...their best (I use the term loosely) baseball players beat our best baseball players 8-6 in the World Baseball Classic. We were "blowed up real good". In usage of a little known rule, we are now known as the Lower Provnices, or Amerida. Who knew they were so pissed about losing the Expos?

It's all karmic retribution, I guess. Seeing as how Mexico is now our bitch in soccer, it only stands to reason a country who generally doesn't care about baseball would smack us around.

At least I am now compatriots with The Kids in the Hall. Someone pass the Moosehead...

Call me Brantley...

Or Carlton...because I am officially living in an 80's comedy now. The only difference is I haven't conned my way to the top of my uncle's corporation while hooking up with Helen Slater.

I do, however, have the requisite promiscuous neighbor. You know, the one who is heard, but never seen. I'll set the stage for you:

The place: My cozy little VaHi apartment. I'm lying in bed, listening to the relaxing tunes of B 98.5 (seriously, I've done this since I was 13) when I think I detect some sort of noise hitting on the off beat of the song. I turn the radio down and hear - creak...creak-creak-creakcreakcreak...

That's right, my neighbor is gettin' it on. I really think this will hinder my ability to sleep, so I pray that he is a quick draw. Luckily, I am right. 2 (maybe 3) minutes tops. I am sure his girl loved that.

This guy definitely makes an interesting neighbor for being relatively invisible. He just bought a late 80's Mercury Grand Marquis, which naturally has 20" rims on it. Pretty much like putting lipstick on a pig. To protect his ghetto fabulous investment, he has installed the most sensitive car alarm known to man. It blares out at least twice a night...and late. I really don't see the point - it's set off so much, I don't think anyone in our area gives any thought to it anymore.

I don't know if folks would be too upset if someone did steal his hoopdie. My thought is this - there are so many late model SUV's, sports cars, sedans, etc. in this part of town - who's going to want a Grand Marquis? The sad fact is that he probably bought the alarm to protect his wheels.

But back to The Secret of My Suce$$ (note the clever use of the $'s). What the hell happened to Helen Slater? I know she's done some TV work, but why has the movie career dried up? Does she just spend all day hanging out with Judge Reinhold, Steve Guttenberg, and Molly Ringwald?

She was definitely one of those chicks who was "80's hot", much like Ringwald. If they came around today, I don't think anyone would have given them a second look. Back then, though, they would have been in Maxim, if it existed...

By the way, in checking up on these fallen 80's icons, I discovered that they are in pre-production for a new Police Academy movie. Wow. Even worse, it appears to have much of the cast from the initial trilogy, including Tim Kazurinsky of SNL non-fame. Stay tuned, I'm sure we'll need to organize a camp out for tickets to this one.