Say It Ain't So

I'm not sure why this is happening after the most promising start to a season in five years, but my Royals have lost 9 straight games, giving them the distinction of the record for most 8+ game losing streaks since 2002 (11!) and worsening the record they already own for most 9+ game losing streaks since 2004 (9) and making me feel like doing this until the all star break:

Contrary to their efforts, however, my commitment is steadfast. I took my first practice ride to get into at least third-grader shape by the time my ride to Kansas City begins, and let me tell you. It's going to take more than Wheaties to get me those 800 miles to the K. It's going to take guts/intestines. It's going to take horse vitamins. It's going to take victories. So for god's sake, boys. Step it up.

It's Really Over.

After 21 months, i'm pleased to announce that i've sold, folded, and cursed my last pair of jeans in the retail prison at Grant and Post, the now infamous Lucky Brand Jeans. Yes, chickadees, it's finally time to set sail across this great continent in search of some poems that might tie up the masters here, and have a little fun for a change. Not that 2,300 hours of jean-folding and rabid-orangutan customer service hasn't learned me a thing or two. Let's take a look at some "lifetime" stats here, from a final printout i put together.

I had a total number of 3,054 transactions comprised of 5,584 units, the majority of which were jeans, averaging each transaction to $120 bucks. So how much money did i make this company? Well, we're looking at roughly $364,119 in total sales since August of 2006, so i'd say they did alright. Seeing as i made just over 30 grand in that time frame, and proceeded to fork that right back over to various illegal landlords around the city, it could be *ascertained* that i got the short end of the proverbial retail stick.

If there are only a few things i've really learned, (and there are) it's that my product didn't fundamentally need to exist in the universe, meaning, had it never been created, nobody in history would ever have suffered whatsoever, which i think is a very straightforward basis for judgment. If you can say the same thing about me when i kick the bucket, please don't, and just go back to watching Judge Judy reruns (or Joe Brown, if she's not on) and let it be. If i've only learned one thing about female retail vocabulary, it's that the word cute is the scourge of western civilization.

But mostly, above all, if i've only learned one thing from this whole escapade, it's probably that $364,119 dollars is a lot of money. It's a lot of money. If i was there as long as i was, doing as much as i did, and after those years and every one of those five thousand different times i was standing at the opposite side of a cash register listening to someone tell someone else on the phone that they just got something cute it added up to $364,119 dollars... The only conclusion to draw from this is that there is absolutely no excuse for Michael Jackson to be losing Neverland Ranch. So, with today's lesson in hand, we ride off into the sunset, another chapter written, one that needs not ever be reread for that matter. Let's try and put those 5,584 "units" behind us, shall we? I'm born again.

Hi De Ho

I'm glad somebody took four hundred hours to put this thing together, so that i don't ever have to. It strikes me as something i'd personally decide was important enough to skip going to the bank, brushing teeth, doing homework, or even breathing for.

In other news, i'm thinking about building a time machine to transport me back to 1993 to attend some sweet wedding reception afterparties in all of the shirts this guy wears in this cool dance video set to Kool and the Gang's 1982 jam, Hi-De-Ho. Don't ask me how i found something like this, it'd only embarrass both of us for me to try and explain. It would be like asking how Al Gore invented the internet, or how David Blaine is magic.

The Wilhelm Scream

If you've never personally had one of those moments where you realize you're an absolute, total dork, this might give you an idea of how it happens. I was watching sportscenter, surprise, and during the commercial break i saw an ad for this new reality/feces show where a guy rides a raft off a big waterfall wearing a harness or something. Now, to every other human being on earth as far as i know, his scream sounds totally, authentically, believably normal. He's riding a raft off a huge waterfall, and i'd scream like i was naked in a snake pit too. But here's where it gets bad.

I recognized the scream as a sound clip that's been used in one particular video game, the original "command and conquer" as the go-to sound for when a guy gets set on fire by something. I know this was the exact same scream because i used to flamethrow everybody around me (yes, including members of my own team) and the clip would get played a hundred million times as i laughed my twelve year old head off.

Now, i realize fully well that this outs me as an inexcusable dork, but seeing as the only person who might actually comment on this confession i'm making is an exponentially larger dork than i am (you, turner) i feel okay, almost borderline empowered for my recognition of that extremely bad scream clip that they flew in to make it seem like homeboy's raft plunge made him brown his dockers. Then i got to thinking, didn't i overhear some pretentious film student or drunk girl once say something about an infamous scream that was used regularly in hollywood, that had appeared in a million different flicks for fifty years? I did a little research, and sure enough, turned up the "wilhelm scream."



This video starts with the original, as the unfortunate cowboy "Wilhelm" learns the universal lesson for wanting to "fill his pipe" during a secret indian ambush/raid. This also brings up another topic altogether, because for some reason, for longer than i remember, i've thought that being shot by an arrow in the chest would be among my top three least favorite ways to die, and i think i still stand by that. I can say, almost without hesitance, that i'd like to die just about any other way than being shot in the chest by an old fashioned, rock-sharpened Indian arrow, pulled alllllll the way back on some Indian's bow. Regardless, look how many times ol' Wilhelm's scream has been used, to the point that its really become an inside joke for film nerds and sad/pathetic sportscenter-obsessed sound nerds such as myself. Really, all nerds. I hate to exclude anyone.

Read more about the scream here.

Hey, Old Daddy

Dreamland

I don't give myself enough credit that i could make this up, in case anybody wants to challenge it as fact:

but last night i dreamt that i was a real estate agent trying to sell a house to the Clinton's. I remember not only cleaning up around the house knowing that Hillary was going to show up at any moment, but then pitching it to them as ideal because it sat on top of a hill, where she could "overlook the nation." I couldn't make this up, and this proves it: When they didn't go for the house, the next guy that came to see it was Ray Allen.. of the Boston Celtics. And you know what? Ray bought the house. Happy Ending. Random ending, as i personally don't care about Ray Allen more than i care about, say, dryer lint or Jamie Lynn Spears. Maybe i can look forward to a cameo or combination of the both in tonight's feature. More importantly, the moral of the story should be never to watch television in the first place. Bill agrees. My bad. Shanked it.

A nice salmon ensemble there, though. For something entirely different, take a look at this artist who specializes in taking pictures of people jumping up in the air with sheets around them, making for some surreal, bulbous, globular.. photography.

McJackass

When it comes to the frantically joyless state of the economy these days, I’m glad we can still count on advertisements in America to hold our heads up high above the stinkpile. Sure we’re headed into a recession the size of Steven Tyler’s lips with a 9 trillion dollar debt and our currency on par with Canada’s for the first time since 1976, but why worry? You can still buy something with the dollar, and you don’t even have to go to smelly old Europe to do it.



Problem solved, apparently. Dweeby pseudo-minority office guy also triumphs over pompous white douche office guy in a complicated, secret subplot as well. (We're not even going to mention "thats cold" guy.) Now let’s backtrack for a second. What possible explanation is there for Canadian currency to have been equal to ours in 1976? And more importantly, as a result, can we expect a second coming of other key features of 1976, such as, and in no particular order:

The release of another record as good as Steely Dan’s The Royal Scam? *Hint: totally impossible, though Kanye West did technically sample “Kid Charlemagne” last year, to huge (sad) success*

The election of a president with teeth as nice as Jimmy Carter's? *Much more possible, though his teeth are going to look pretty French if he keeps this behavior up*
The creation of another Canadian baseball team with jerseys as sweet as the old Blue Jays?

Well, if the Celtics do go on to win the championship, I might have to rethink this ’76 theory, and things might not be nearly as bad as I’d thought. But I wasn’t going to talk about sports on this site, and I’ve already blown that one. With Canadians running amok buying fridges to ship home to Prince Edward Island and The Euro rising fast at $1.54 we’d better be getting used to the idea of staying right here at home, eating double cheeseburgers until we’ve learned our sad, fat lesson. Fortunately, in between commercials, you can occasionally still see something like this: