Who's going to be the next Fighting Irish football coach? Have you considered my left butt cheek?

As the end of another college football season nears, it's time once again to listen to 24-7 speculation about all of the coaching changes that will happen in preparation for next year. Apart from their role in polling each week, which seems to have more impact on a team's post-season prospects than what the team actually does on the field, this is the part of what the media does to college football that I hate the most.

This week, like so many brainless honeybees, the media swarmed in South Bend to see who will replace Charlie Weis. While Weis's departure might be likely, Notre Dame hasn't made any official announcement about it. Maybe, and I know I must be a lunatic for thinking this, but maybe Notre Dame actually cares what happens if they get invited to a bowl. After all, they are bowl eligible at 6 and 6. Maybe they don't want to fire the guy and bring in some interim coach for the last game of the season. Maybe they don't want to spend the millions it's going to cost to buy out the remainder of Weis's contract. But seriously, can't we just wait until the guy actually gets fired before we talk about who's going to replace him?

And then there's the coverage surrounding who will get Steve Kragthorpe's job at Louisville, where there's at least the consolation that Kragthorpe's been ousted officially. On a daily basis, it throws distraction into other teams who actually have post-season prospects to worry about. While they're probably working hard as hell to prepare for the SEC championship game, Florida Defensive Coordinator Charlie Strong and Alabama Offensive Coordinator Jim McElwain will be pummeled with constant questioning from reporters about the Louisville job. And more importantly, those coordinators' players could become distracted. Can't the damn sportswriters wait until the season's over to ask these guys if they're leaving?

But that's not the worst of it. To me, the worst is when the discussion turns to guys like Chris Petersen and Kevin Sumlin. Again, maybe I'm crazy, but I think it's possible that Chris Petersen doesn't want to leave Boise State. He makes over $1 million a year, far in excess of ten times what I earn as an attorney. It's quite possible for him to win 10 games a season there, every single season, until he retires. The people of Boise and his players love him and what he does there. He's fighting the good fight all the time, making a case for the seemingly fundamental proposition that every team in a given sports league should have some chance of winning that league. His team is on national TV as much as any other coach. But oh no, he MUST want to leave for some "better" job like Notre Dame, where he'll get four or five seasons at most to win a national championship before he gets booted out the door unceremoniously just like the two guys before him. And if he does get lucky and win a big one, maybe he can stick around for six or seven seasons. At Boise State, with the kind of dynasty that they have going on, Petersen might have the last job he ever needs. Maybe he doesn't want to move across the country and subject himself and his family to an absolutely brutal spotlight just for more money and a few years of notorious fame. Maybe he'd rather do something that actually matters, and that he'll actually be proud of when he's done.

Let's call it what it is.

In his convincing argument for scrapping the BCS system, Dan Wetzel left out the most compelling reason for doing so: nearly half of the teams playing at the highest level of college football have absolutely no chance of ever playing for the league’s title no matter how good they are or how many games they win.

Everyone knows about Utah and Boise State. Both have completed unbeaten seasons at the highest level of college football recently and had no chance to win the title. Nowhere else in sport can this happen. The Detroit Lions, if they surprise everyone and go undefeated, certainly make the NFL playoffs, and no one would ever say that they didn’t deserve to be there. If the Pirates decided finally to keep a few good players, and they won enough games, they would make the playoffs. No one would say, oh, well, they’re not really good enough to compete for the World Series title; we’ll just give them a consolation game against the Nationals, throw it on national TV, and call it good. Leave the World Series to big-name teams like the Yankees. This sounds absurd and stupid, yes, but it’s the system in college football.

The standard response to this argument is always something like, "You don’t actually believe that on a neutral field, Boise State or Utah would have any shot against Florida or USC, do you?" This question is the whole problem. It’s asking people to speculate on hype, silly rankings, and imaginary match-ups rather than determining a champion based on actual on-the-field performance. And for the record, yes, I do think that Boise State or Utah would have a chance in a game like that. Aren’t both programs undefeated in BCS games? Weren’t Boise State and Utah big underdogs to Oklahoma and Alabama, respectively? Despite that, both teams won. That’s why they play the games. They don’t just say, well, Lee Corso doesn’t think Boise State has a chance against Oklahoma, so we’ll just chalk up the win to the Sooners and not bother to play the game.

The bottom line is that not one of the arguments for the current system makes any sense. Like Wetzel says, the BCS is the clever scheme of a series of money-grubbing assholes who are depriving us fans, and nearly half of all college football teams, of a legit system so that they can line their pockets.

You'd still want a chance, too.

Everyone saw the ridiculous events of Thursday night on the blue carpet, and there’s been a lot of talk about the aftermath. Many sportswriters think that Oregon coach Chip Kelly’s decision to let LeGarrette Blount continue practicing with the team is inappropriate, or even harmful to the team. After all, the argument goes, the guy punched another player on the field of play and went after a fan. He had to be restrained by police. Guys who do things like that, they say, have no place in sports.

But let’s be honest. Football is a violent sport. It involves a defense physically knocking its opponents to the ground against their will over and over again. The hits come hard, and serious injuries are commonplace. Add to that the tremendous pressure involved in college football. Many of these players aren’t the sharpest men at their universities and have no other realistic career prospects. Coaches’ jobs depend on extracting great performance from these players. In short, these guys care tremendously about what happens in the games. The game is literally their lives, and they take it very seriously. Plus, they’re trained to be violent on the field. It’s not easy to be an animal during play and a gentleman as soon as the whistle blows. Humans aren’t wired that way.

So then there’s Blount, after having an awful game. A Boise State player taunts him, and he snaps, punching the Boise State player and going after a fan. It was a mistake, as Blount himself said shortly afterward. That leaves us with a question: should one mistake be enough to ruin Blount’s career? If Chip Kelly had kicked Blount off the team, Blount would be stuck with nowhere to work out in preparation for the NFL combine, with no structure, no gym, no peers going through the same thing, etc. His football career would be over.

To be clear, I’m not saying that anyone should feel sorry for this guy or that what he did was excusable. I’m simply saying that one-and-done isn’t a realistic or a proper way to deal with problems like this. If the guy learns from his mistake and never repeats it, why shouldn’t he be allowed to play at the next level if he’s good enough? Bottom line: If I made a mistake, I’d want a chance to redeem myself; I wouldn’t want to be kicked to the curb and forgotten for two ill-advised minutes out of my 20+ years of life. Chip Kelly made the right choice here. He gave out a severe penalty for a severe disciplinary violation—but he didn’t needlessly ruin a young man’s life.

Take off your mask! Those are the rules!

Before I left Pittsburgh, my bank came up with a number of new security regulations. One of them provides that everyone entering the bank wearing a hat or mask must take off the hat or mask. When I took my Griz Tennis hat off, a bank employee told me that this rule is supposed to create a situation in which the surveillance cameras can see the faces of everyone who comes into the bank. Seriously? So if some dude in a ski mask comes through the door to rob the place, and you say, "Oh, hey, man...you have to take off your mask to come in here," he's just going to be like, "Oh, sorry. Sure, I'll take it off." Isn't this about as asinine as trying to turn Ben Roethlisberger into a pocket passer?

Q & A for reeling Pirates fans

In the wake of the Pirates recent string of trades (pretty much everyone you've ever heard of was voted off the island), Pirates fans are picking at the usual scabs and wounds that accompany nearly two decades of consistent losing. It's now completely safe to say that by the conclusion of the year, the Pirates will set the North American major professional sports record for consecutive losing seasons (17). It's also likely that they'll pad the record next year, when they field a young AAA team at the major league level. If the current set of trades do not pan out, twenty consecutive losing seasons is a virtual guarantee.

In the event you don't follow baseball closely, here's the quick rundown. Last year, the Pirates traded away their two starting corner outfielders, both of whom have All-Star credentials. This year, the Pirates have traded their left-handed bullpen specialist, their best long reliever, their All-Star center fielder, their steadily improving left fielder, two young pitchers who have been successful at the major league level (but are currently in AAA), their first baseman, their All-Star second baseman and their former All-Star shortstop. I've probably missed someone in there. Basically, Pirates General Manager Neal Huntington would trade his mom if you made him a passable offer.

If you're a Pirates fan, you must be brimming with questions. Fortunately, I'm here to help. Let's get to it.

Is there anything Major League Baseball's front office can do to remedy the Bucs' incompetence?

Probably not. But I don't think it would kill them to honor the Pirates record-setting ways with a "beyond baseball" commercial: "17 consecutive losing seasons. This is beyond comprehension. This is beyond baseball."

Is this recent string of trades completely unprecedented?

Surprisingly, no. I once turned over about 80% of the Steelers roster in franchise mode in Madden 2005 in roughly 4 hours. In the real world, though, this is pretty much without precedent.

Can we at least come up with a curse to explain the Pirates' losing ways?

No, dammit. We're not gonna turn into a bunch of self-indulgent whiners who blame a couple bad bounces on some fat dude who died 60 years ago. So help me God, if I hear of a single person using the phrase "Curse of Cabrera" or similar, I will exact vengeance by dropping flaming bags of dog turds down their chimneys. Or another act that is equally mature and righteous.

I'm an angry Pirates fan. What's the one editorial I need to read?

Check out Ron Cook's column here.

Who has the worst job in baseball right now?

Gonna have to go with Pirates manager John Russell. It's like Neal Huntington slapped him on the back and said, "Teach all these emus how to paint a rainbow. Oh, here are your buckets of black and white paint. You'll need 'em."

Do the Pirates have any new promotion ideas to draw people to the ballpark? Since, you know, the team's really gonna blow now.

Not that I know of. But here are a few ideas I came up with (and I only thought about it for five minutes!).

Slumber Company Wednesdays: The Pirates have no power in their lineup anymore. Offer a free beer to every patron 21 or older for each home run the Pirates hit during Wednesday home games. I guarantee the Pirates would make money on this promotion, and that's sad.

Trivia Night: Every Thursday home game, the PIrates should gather all 400 patrons in one section and conduct a typical bar-style trivia night. Winner gets to stuff a Louisville slugger up the butt of a life-size voodoo doll with Cam Bonifay's likeness.

Wet T-shirt contest Tuesdays, Pittsburgh style: Okay, so this needs to be family friendly. Instead of some chubby chick from Crafton Ingram horrifying everyone by showing her pendulous breasts about to split open an innocent white cotton shirt, get a few 350 pound yinzer dudes from Blawnox, squeeze them into cheap undershirts, and hose 'em down. First person to make Pirates President Frank Coonelly vomit gets a case of Iron City Light.

Why should we still follow the team? Why should we still attend games?

Honestly, unless you like the idea of the Nuttings turning a tidy little profit at your expense, I don't think you should go to games. Go to Latrobe for Steelers training camp instead. Don't check the NL Central standings anymore. Do you check the status of your retirement plan every day? Of course not. Because you know it's only going to make you feel worse. So, why would you check the Pirate's box score?

If I've failed to cover any important ground in the preceding, feel free to pose additional queries in the comments section.

Particle board furniture (you know, the good life)

Since I'm living the good life now, I can afford to purchase some of my furniture at Ikea rather than fashioning my furnishings from dead weeds and the broken shards of my social life like during my grad school days. Earlier today, I purchased one of the modest television stand options in the Ikea lineup and began the assembly process.

Ikea does not wish to rule all of metropolis so much as all of the world. And, they wish to do so in frugal fashion. To this end, there are no assembly packets containing written words, thereby obviating the need to customize instructions for different linguistic markets. Rather, they provide assembly manuals with diagrams and some creepy cartoon man warning against errors commonly committed during the assembly of furniture pieces whose names contain a shit-ton of umlauts. I found one of these warnings puzzling. For your viewing pleasure...

At first, I thought they might be warning me against fornicating with my new piece of furniture. Or, judging by the look on fella's face, maybe they meant that if you try to screw your furniture, and you're unable to perform, you'll surely break your tv stand. But, neither of these things seemed terribly likely. (That is, it didn't seem likely that Ikea would warn me against making sweet, sweet love to my television stand. Though for the record, I do think it's likely that having sex with your furniture is a bad idea and on far too many levels to explore in this space.) For a spell, I then thought that they were encouraging me to gently caress my furniture with my hooved hand during assembly.

Finally, after a couple more minutes of staring (seriously, it took this long, and I was completely transfixed by this mental exercise), I realized the intent of the cartoon. Since it's probably too obvious to state (and since I'm secretly hoping that one of you will also struggle with the meaning), I leave the interpretation of the diagram as an exercise for the reader.

Lost in Translation

I recently moved to a new city for job-related reasons (i.e, I didn't have a job, and I could have one if I moved to this new city). Among other joys, this sequence of events reacquainted me with the many and varied pains of relocation and the requisite partially awkward introductory conversations with new coworkers. These conversations inevitably touch on my recent move.

Naturally, I start bitching to my new colleagues about how moving is like trying to crap a kangaroo. It's memorable, but in entirely unpleasant ways. This often leads to one of the following questions: Are you married? or Do you have a family? The basic intent of both questions is the same. If I answer "yes" to one or both, then I've earned more points on the "moving unpleasantness scale." Yes, my better half has to find a job here. I hated to drag the kids away from their friends and into another school district, but...

So, when I say, "No, I'm not married" or "No, I came by myself" my new coworkers express joy -- bordering on jealousy -- that I was able to move without worrying about the concerns of my spouse or children. And, while I know their comments are coming from the right place, when they say, "Oh, that's great that you're single" what I hear instead is: "You're alone! And you get to not have sex EVER! You lucky son of a bitch!"

Small Ball

If you want to know how the Pittsburgh Pirates will finally change their losing ways, you'll need to sit through two history lessons. One is relatively recent, and the other takes us back to the days of "Give 'Em Hell" Harry S. Truman and Howdy Doody.

Our recent history lesson involves Nate McLouth, who was traded to the Braves for Gorkys Hernandez, Charlie Morton, and Jeff Locke this past week. McLouth, an All Star in 2008 and the current face of the franchise (having replaced the former face of the franchise, Jason Bay, who was traded to the Red Sox last summer), was one of the few legitimate power threats in the Pirates lineup. He was well-liked on the team and in the community. Clearly, he needed to go. The Braves needed outfield help, and Pirates management felt like the Hernandez, Morton, and Locke offering was a steal. Pirates fans have been down this road before. For these sorts of trades to benefit the Pirates, they need at least two of the three players to turn into quality major league starters. Otherwise, you're just hitting the snooze button on your next winning season. Unfortunately, the Pirates have such a poor scouting department that our 3-for-1 deals generally turn out to be 0.5-for-1 deals at best.

So, what do the Pirates do? Signing Indian "pitchers" probably ain't gonna cut it. And, that brings us to history lesson #2 and one Eddie Gaedel. Eddie's entire major league career consisted of one plate appearance in the 1951 season, during which he walked on four pitches. This was essentially a foregone conclusion, as Eddie was a 3' 7" dwarf and presented a miniscule strike zone to the opposing pitcher. The publicity stunt was designed by St. Louis Browns owner, Bill Veeck, and was staged on the 50th anniversary of the American League. Eddie engaged in a few more promotions for Veeck, but never again appeared in a major league game. And, if you want to read some depressing stuff, be sure to check out the "Later Life" section in Gaedel's wikipedia entry.

Okay, so forget the part about Eddie having a heart attack after getting mugged, and ponder the following question: what if you had a bunch of Eddie Gaedels on your team? Here's what I'm thinking: you have a pitching staff (starters & pen) composed of standard size adult males, along with a standard size catcher, center fielder, shortstop, and first baseman. Everybody else is a little person in a Pirates uniform.

Look, you're gonna bleed runs like, well, like most recent Pirates teams have. Your defensive range at most positions will stink and your pitchers are going to labor like hell to make it to the 7th inning. So, your bullpen would need to change. Keep a closer and a lefty specialist. Everybody else is long relief (cheap arms!), and you might as well carry 12 pitchers just to be safe. That gives you five long relief guys in your pen to deal with the inevitable 14-10 barn burners. Your team ERA will be atrocious, and games will be interminable.

But, man, what an offense. Here's the revamped Bucs lineup I'd like to trot out:

1. Little person, 2B
2. Little person, SS
3. Little person, RF
4. Adrian Gonzalez, 1B
5. Ryan Doumit, C
6. Jimmy Rollins, SS
7. Andrew McCutcheon, CF
8. Little person, LF
9. Pitcher

You've got a lot of pop in the middle of the lineup, and hopefully the little people do a fine job of setting the plate for the big boys. There's reason to believe their on-base percentages will be .600 or higher. They're going to walk more often than not, and after a while, opposing pitchers will just start throwing at them. (If you're going to walk the guy on 4 pitches, why not just drill him with the first? Saves your arm and is much more satisfying.) Since you're carrying 12 pitchers, you've only got 5 bench spots. Sign as many utility guys with good defensive skills as you can, so you can make a bunch of defensive subs late in games in which you hold a lead. Note that since you're only carrying four little people on your roster, you can easily field a conventional-sized team should circumstances dictate it (i.e., one of your starters becomes dominant and can regularly win 2-1 games).

What will it take to assemble this roster? Let's begin by assuming that you can find 4 athletic little people willing to work for the Major League minimum salary ($400k). The Bucs would still need to acquire Gonzalez and Rollins.

Suppose you're Adrian Gonzalez and a GM approaches you and says, "Yo Adrian, how would you like to come to the plate in the first inning with three guys on and no outs, every time? And, oh by the way, the opposing pitcher has already thrown about a dozen pitches and is flustered as hell?" Suppose Kevin Towers is offered Adam LaRoche, Neil Walker, and Daniel Moskos in exchange. Will there be any backlash in San Diego as a result of the trade? Of course not. The weather's great and the women are gorgeous. What's to complain about? So, Towers pulls the trigger on the trade and Adrian is happy to be shipped to Pittsburgh because he's already envisioning a 190 RBI season. Gonzalez makes a very reasonable $3M in '09 and $4.75M in '10 with a club option for $5.5M in '11. Now, we need Jimmy Rollins. We send Jack Wilson, Jarek Cunningham, and Tyler Yates to the Phils in exchange for the declining (but still good) Rollins. Jimmy makes $7.5M this year and next, and $8.5M in '11.

The Bucs keep Andy LaRoche ($413.5k), Nyjer Morgan ($411.5k), Delwyn Young ($406k), Luis Cruz ($401.5k), and Robinson Diaz ($401k) on the bench. (All salaries for '09 season). All other position players (Brandon Moss, Freddy Sanchez, etc.) and most of the bullpen get traded for prospects.

Let's suppose that the Pirates pitching staff stays mostly intact, with the exception of the revamped bullpen. Here's the pitching staff and their '09 salaries:

Paul Maholm, SP, $2M
Ian Snell, SP, $3M
Zach Duke, SP, $2.2M
Ross Ohlendorf, SP, $0.4135M
Jeff Karstens, SP, $0.4015M

Matt "The Mad Crapper" Capps, closer, $2.3M
John Grabow, lefty specialist, $2.3M
Sean Burnett, long relief, $0.4085M
Warm body, long relief, $0.750M
Warm body, long relief, $0.750M
Warm body, long relief, $0.750M
Warm body, long relief, $0.750M

What's the total damage? The little people set you back $1.6M, the full-size regulars cost roughly $13M (no info. on McCutcheon's salary), the backups cost a tick over $2M, and the price tag on the bullpen is about $6M. Which brings the total player payroll to $22.6M, a number that would make even Kevin McClatchy smile.

Yes, I'm overlooking a ton of things. Would any team really want to pay all of Jack Wilson's $7.25M salary? Of course not. The Bucs would need to eat some portion of that. (But, really, if the thing that most upsets you about this post is the financial implications of some of my trade ideas, you're taking things way too seriously. Fix yourself a drink. Go find a hooker. Just stop reading.) By the way, all of the salary information in this post came from Cot's Baseball Contracts. Definitely check it out if you're a baseball fan.

With my plan, not only do you get a (hopefully) competitive team on the cheap, just think of all of the promotional possibilities. Hire Gary Coleman to be your color guy. (I swear... I swear on my non-racist grandmother's grave, that's a joke about Gary Coleman's size and not his race. What, did you want me to make a joke about the Rice twins, may John Rice rest in peace?) Instead of bobbleheads, you could give away life-size versions of actual players. And what heartless bastard wouldn't be rooting for the little people? Who doesn't like an underdog, especially one that's smaller than the average dog?

The best part of this scheme is that it helps the Pirates in the two areas they struggle most: talent identification/development and payroll. The organization can save money for a few years so they can go after B-level free agents rather than the C/D stuff they've been chasing for the past decade. They have time to develop the few prospects in their system, and when they do miraculously develop a decent player (Nate McLouth, for instance), they can more safely engage in those 3-for-1 deals because they have fewer non-little-people positions to worry about.

Make no mistake. This is not a long-term solution. Nor is it a solution that will lead to a championship. What it might lead to is a fun-to-watch team that has a chance to flirt with .500 and set a new record for highest team ERA over a season. The current system is unsustainable. We don't have the talent to be competitive now, and we don't have the talent in the pipeline to be competitive in the next 2 years. We don't have management that's willing to bump the payroll to $80M. And, we don't have the trading chips to stockpile a bunch of minor league talent. Something radical is required, and it's not the swap of Nate McLouth for some guy named Gorkys. The Pirates can't seem to win, let alone win big. Perhaps they should try to win small instead.

What IS a fire hydrant?

Purchasing insurance policies is never fun. Never. First, you're spending money on a product that you hope you will never use. Second, you're generally forced to consider unpleasant circumstances that might befall you: car accidents, property damage, lawsuits, property theft, identity theft, serious illness, death, or some combination of the preceding. Third, during the interview, you're often asked a series of ridiculous questions. While the answers to these questions are necessary to accurately calculate a premium, they're often difficult to answer accurately. For instance, while researching renter's insurance policies recently, I was asked to estimate the percentage of my housing that was brick. Sadly, there was no check box with the option, "What percentage of your brain thinks I have any f***ing clue?"

During this same interview, I was asked for the distance to the nearest fire hydrant. The words "fire hydrant" had a link, and I hoped that if I clicked the link, I would be offered some guidance on what to do in the event that I did not know the location of the nearest hydrant. Instead, this is what I was offered:


Rather than showing this picture with the accompanying explanatory information, might I suggest that the insurance company provide the following recommendation:

If you do not know what a fire hydrant is, you should not be buying renter's insurance. In fact, you should not be using this computer. Please sit in a room by yourself until you expire.

"can be any color." That's the part that really killed me.

Yep, that’s about right: the Pirates 12-17 start

As long-time baseball fans know, it’s customary to assess the state of one’s team after it has played 29 games. Don’t read that first sentence again. It won’t make any additional sense the second time. After a 12-17 start, it’s as good a time as any to take stock of your 2009 Pittsburgh Pirates. Since I’m lazy and I need a gimmick to get me through this post, I’m going to break things down according to what’s gone right and what’s gone oh-so-wrong.

GONE RIGHT: The Pirates began the season 11-7. Fueled by solid starting pitching, the Bucs started the season respectably. For a time, the Pirates pitching staff led the league in ERA and quality starts. No, seriously.

GONE WRONG: The Bucs have gone 1-10 after their 11-7 start. Given the aura of loserdom that clings to the organization, it’s all too easy to say, “here we go again” when the Pirates drop 43 games in a row or fail to record a hit in 97 consecutive innings. Pirates skipper John Russell thinks this is unfair (as reported here)

Teams go through it. We’re not the only team that struggles to score runs. Everybody does it. You go through a stretch. Unfortunately, the Pirates, it gets magnified more because of all the streaks they talk about and stuff like that.

To which my father retorted, “But when do you guys follow a 1-10 stretch with a 9 game winning streak?” Mr. Russell didn’t have an answer for this, though in his defense, he was on television and likely did not hear my dad’s question.

GONE RIGHT: The Zach Duke resurgence: When Duke burst onto the scene in late 2005, he appeared to be the staff ace that the Pirates lacked since the days of Doug Drabek. In 14 starts, he posted an 8-2 record, with a 1.81 ERA. Naturally, the following spring training, then pitching coach Jim Colborn decided to overhaul Duke’s mechanics. Because success simply will not be tolerated in these here parts.

In the 2006-2008 seasons, Duke posted a collective 18-37 record while the Pirates went through pitching coaches the way a bored puppy plows through shoes. The 2009 season marked the arrival of pitching coach Joe Kerrigan, father of America’s ice-skating sweetheart, Nancy Kerrigan. Actually, I made up that last part (the father part, that is. I stand by the sweetheart remark. Boy, I can already see the vitriolic comments from Michelle Kwan fans.) I don’t really care if Zach’s resurgence is tied to the arrival of Joe Kerrigan; I’m just happy that Duke appears to be on the right path once more. Though he only has a 3-3 record, the other numbers look good so far: 1.17 WHIP, 2.79 ERA.

(Before moving on, I’d like to mention that one of the few perks of being a Pirates fan is the opportunity to conduct the following search in google: “zach duke colborn tinker mechanics.”)

GONE WRONG: The Ryan Doumit injury: Though it’s tempting, I won’t crow that I predicted this in my Pirates season preview. Because foretelling that Doumit will be injured is like predicting that Minka Kelly will not publicly declare her love for me. They’re both pretty safe bets. While we’re here, I would wager that a handful of toddlers in the Pittsburgh area can claim the following as their first complete sentence, “The Pirates retroactively placed Ryan Doumit on the 15-day DL earlier today.” Hey, the little people learn by hearing the same thing over and over and over…

GONE RIGHT: Nyjer Morgan has been competent: Maybe “competent” is too slight praise. He’s been solid. I’d still prefer to have Jason Bay patrolling left (he’s posting some big numbers for the Sox this year), but Nyjer has been a pleasant surprise. He’s posted a .308 average, notched 8 steals (though he’s been caught 4 times), and has 13 RBIs hitting primarily out of the leadoff spot. Not bad for someone once referred to as “poo poo platter” in my household.

GONE WRONG: The Brandon Moss experience: The new poo poo platter? .185 AVG, 0 HR, 3 RBI in 81 at bats. I hate to do this to Brandon and to Pirates fans, but if you prorate Derek Bell’s stats from his legendary 2001 season, here’s what they look like over 81 at bats: .173 AVG, 3 HR, 7 RBI. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a nightmare tonight in which Derek Bell luxuriously strokes a cat in a large leather chair while telling a quaking Brandon Moss, “You and I. . . we are not so different.”

So, what does that 12-17 record equate to over 162 games? A 67-95 record. If that sounds familiar, it’s because the Pirates have gone 67-95, 68-94, and 67-95 in the last three years. And, so my question to you is this: have you ever seen another machine that runs so very consistently and yet is so very broken?

How to drink with The Dude, Part 2

When this month's Playboy arrived, I noticed that they've also said a little bit about drinking while watching The Big Lebowski as part of the Vodka section in "The Drinking Man's Guide to Cinema." Since I thought that some of you would be interested, here it is:

VODKA
Drink While Watching: The Big Lebowski, the 1998 Coen brothers ode to slack and bowling that made the white russian cool again. The Dude (Jeff Bridges) is seldom without a glass (or a joint) as he seeks retribution for the defiling of a rug that "really tied the room together, man." Becostumed superfans (a.k.a. achievers) gather annualy for Lebowski Fest. This year it's May 7 and 8, in Los Angeles (lebowskifest.com).
Necessary Equipment: Two ounces of vodka, one ounce of Kahlúa and one ounce of half and half on the rocks. Use nondairy creamer instead and it's called a caucasian. Sip yours every time someone says "dude."
More Vodka, Please: Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) reminds us what an underrated goddess Karen Allen is as she drinks a giant goon under the table in Nepal and out-sloshes a Frenchman in Egypt.

Let's avoid supporting evil.

Oh, you know the type. It’s the guy walking down the street in Mt. Lebanon wearing a North Carolina Tarheels jersey. He’s on his way to watch the title game. He went to college at Grove City, and now he works in Pittsburgh. He’s never been to North Carolina’s campus, and neither have any of his friends or family members. But he really likes North Carolina, especially when they advance to the title game. Oh yeah, and he’s a total Pitt-hater and likes to talk shit when people wear Pitt clothing to a bar in Pittsburgh.

Few things in sports are more wrong than acting like an asshole in someone else’s town. If I go to see Pitt play at Georgetown, I’m not going to give shit to people in DC for being Georgetown fans. Why not? Because I’m not an asshole. Because it’s perfectly natural for people to like their home teams. And it’s fun to meet interesting people of other persuasions. Additionally, people like to watch their teams, and they like to cheer for them with other fans. Why would I try to ruin other people’s good times by being a negative hater? After all, what did I expect? That everyone would be a Pitt fan everywhere I traveled? Ridiculous. But that’s what Mr. Mt. Lebanon expects—he thinks that everyone should be a North Carolina fan today, and a Yankees fan tomorrow because that’s the “cool” thing to do. In reality, it’s about as “cool” as being a big Monsanto backer.

North Carolina basketball is an awful affliction from which this country may never recover. Any indifferent viewer can see that referees favor the Tarheels at any opportunity. Tyler Hansbrough merely has to set foot in the paint without scoring in order to set off a chorus of whistles. It doesn’t matter if he traveled before his shot or if he had any contact with a player from the opposing team. Since he’s the North Carolina big man, it’s simply inconceivable that he could simply have missed a shot. The rules of the game don’t apply for North Carolina—their coach can throw louder tantrums, their players can throw more needless elbows and shove opponents out of bounds. The result of the play will inevitably be a foul or a travel on the player North Carolina shoved. Why do people like a team like this when it amounts to the same thing as liking the Evil Empire in Star Wars? And do you seriously believe that UConn is the only team committing recruiting violations like that? I have no doubt that North Carolina’s done worse, and further, that officials look the other way because it would just be too much of a splash to put mighty UNC on probation.

And most importantly, what’s the point of liking whatever big-program team looks good these days? Bandwagon fans have no connection to the teams they support just as they have no connection to reality itself. I like Pitt because I grew up in a suburb of Pittsburgh, because I’ve watched their sports teams religiously since infancy, because I worked there, earned a graduate degree there, and because I grew up around the campus since my mom taught there for thirty years and since we had season tickets in the old Pitt Stadium. I have a legit connection to the university and to the teams that represent it. This kind of connection, even if it is as insignificant as having visited a place frequently, adds something to fandom. There’s a real reason for liking this team, a connection to something beyond the fact that the team happens to be good this year. I know that some people have that kind of connection to North Carolina; that’s great and I wish them well. But the poser walking around Mt. Lebanon showing off his brand new North Carolina jersey and running his mouth should turn around and go home.

I’m not a fan of either team playing for the national title tonight. Still, I say, “GO SPARTANS!”

How to drink with The Dude

Every so often, I feel the need to spend some time thinking about how to supplement my already vast appreciation for The Big Lebowski by adding the element of a drinking game.

Having a White Russian each time The Dude makes one in the film seems to be the most popular approach, but White Russians are nasty, coffee-laden concoctions that could manipulate my gag reflex as easily as Monica Lewinsky manipulated Slick Willy’s ding-dong. And I’m trying to augment my enjoyment of the film, not turn it into a bigger disaster than Rod Marinelli’s career as an NFL head coach.

The problem with such an absolute rejection of the White Russian is that it’s the signature drink of The Big Lebowski—it’s what The Dude likes to drink. But there are a few scenes in the bowling alley where The Dude seems to be drinking shitty light beer. So maybe it’s possible for me to kick back with a bunch of PBR tall boys and still have at least a reasonable claim of non-poserdom, if not one of experiential authenticity. At least now I know my beverage of choice.

But I’m still left with the problem of the game itself. I’ve thought about taking a swig of PBR every time someone swears, but I don’t want to end up on the floor before The Dude even meets the other Jeffrey Lebowski. A swig each time someone says “dude” or “Dude” could put me in the same predicament. Perhaps a more substantial swig each time someone mentions The Dude’s rug or his car could put me in the ideal sort of pig to shit ratio that would produce Dude-vana.

Ultimately, though, I think that the best thing is to get together a few people, a case of PBR, and The Big Lebowski. It could be a wet-run of sorts, the kind of thing where we figure out what might work and what will crash more violently than the Dallas Cowboys’ playoff train. Who’s with me?

Eat this with a straight face

On a recent trip to the grocery store, I came across the following item in the bakery section:

The label identifies it as a Boston Butterfly Cake. Which is laughable to me, because while I can vaguely see a butterfly when I view this item, it's hard not to see something else entirely. It's like the ghosts of Georgia O'Keefe and Andy Warhol collaborated on a pastry.

Damn right I bought it.

The Vegas Addiction

I always thought that I’d hate it. The place glorifies the worst kind of rampant over-consumptive waste, and as an ecological disaster, it ruined a vast area of high desert. Everything about it is fake. Still, I cannot resist an opportunity to go there.

Nothing relaxes like walking down the street at half-past nine in the morning taking swigs from a Tecate tall-boy. That’s being free from the shackles of quotidian bullshit that govern everyday existence. If a man walks down the strip in a suit and tie, he’s just partying high-class today; he’s not on the way to some cubicle to fill out his TPS reports. He can wear whatever he wants because he likes the look of it or the feel of it. No self-righteous jackass who signs his paycheck gets to tell him what to put on in the morning. That kind of freedom hooks him like a drug, and as soon as the man heads toward McCarran Airport to leave Vegas, he’s already thinking about what he’ll have to do to come back.

A good sports season augments the potency of Vegas-crack as well as anything. Lunchtime during college basketball season plays witness to eager fans scouting the day’s games on the big boards in all of the sports books up and down the strip. Everyone knows that Memphis will beat SMU, but twenty-six and a half points? Really? Maybe Memphis will get up thirty, but then they’ll put in all their walk-ons and end up winning by only twenty-four; no way they’ll cover that spread. Throw a bet on SMU in a parlay and hope for the best. Later, with Memphis up twenty-five on the big screen, SMU misses an indifferent jump shot with twenty seconds left. Memphis gets the rebound. Even this most mundane of blowouts comes down to the wire in Vegas; a guy in the back by the bar yells, “Shoot that motherfucker!” Everyone’s heads turn toward the big screen and pulses quicken. But no one sees a shot. Memphis’s back-up point guard runs the clock out, either content with a twenty-five point win or under orders from his coach not to run up the score, and Memphis doesn’t cover its twenty-six and a half point spread. The parlay bet is still alive, and with it, the chance of an exponential payout. And who wouldn’t want to put down another while the predictions are hitting?

When the games end, a legion of cabs head from all points on the strip to the gentlemen’s clubs a few blocks west. In a place with a neon-colored skyline, people understand that it’s possible for men to enjoy the prurient aesthetics of female bodies without degrading the women to whom those bodies belong, and that there’s nothing wrong with the Dionysian throes of physical pleasure. Either that, or it’s party time all the time, and no one has time for judgmental crap. And Vegas is, among other things, the American stripper’s Mecca. The best dancers come from the farthest corners of the union to practice their trade there, and the resulting diversity of appearances never disappoints. Who wants to leave a place where beautiful strangers approach at every turn with rapt attention?

In the morning, when the previous night’s Dionysian frenzy demands a return to the clean, bright lines of Apollo, hit a fitness center for a run on the elliptical. An endorphin rush overlooking the harmonious blues of an immaculate casino pool can add the desired balance. Afterward, a stroll through the wide, tall, airy corridors of Mandalay near the Shark Reef is just the thing. Then, step outside there, at the far Southern end of the strip, with the mountains stark and sharp in the distance, and take a breath. Soon, none of this will be yours anymore. As the day begins, you’ll head North; people will emerge from their restful, rented abodes high above the casino floors and descend in elevator after elevator. Gradually, they’ll fill the ground floors. Whether in bars or restaurants, at blackjack tables or next to the lion habitat at the MGM, these people will simultaneously infuriate, amuse, and interest you. They will be absolutely, gloriously incomprehensible.

I will go back and see them, again and again.

Pittsburgh Pirates 2009 Season Preview

Give them this much: the Pittsburgh Pirates are consistent. They consistently underspend their competitors. They consistently waste high draft picks. They consistently make poor free agent signings. They consistently get poor value in trades for their few valuable players. They consistently play bad baseball. And, since they do all of these things at such a high level and with a reliability that would make the Maytag repair man green with envy, they consistently lose.

If everything goes according to plan (and don’t delude yourself, to disappoint for this long, there must be a plan), 2009 will mark the 17th consecutive losing season for the Pirates. They currently share the record for most consecutive losing seasons in a North American major professional sport (MLB, NFL, NBA, NHL) with the 1933-1948 Philadelphia Phillies. Perhaps Phillies fans from that time had it worse. After all, in addition to watching their club stagger to losing records year in and year out, they had to claw their way out of the Depression, watch their sons tangle with the Third Reich, and then be witness to the dawn of the nuclear era. Compare this to the current Pirates fan base, who have had to endure the likes of Pat Meares, Derek Bell, and Jimmy Anderson. It’s unclear which fan base has suffered more. Which is why this year is so important for the proud Pirates organization and its few remaining devotees. With another losing season, we can at least claim numerical superiority in the suffering column. In other words, we can finally win something.

Things are looking very promising for another losing season. Let’s break the team down position-by-position:

Starting pitching: Paul Maholm was regarded as the staff ace in 2008, in much the same way that Tom Gorzelanny was the ace in 2007, Ian Snell was the ace in 2006, and Zach Duke was the ace in 2005. Unfortunately, to be a proper ace, one is expected to perform at a high level for a period of several years. Performing at a high level for 1 to 3 months at a time means that you’re a #4 starter, which is essentially what Maholm, Gorzelanny, Duke, and Snell are. Unfortunately, other major league teams have pitchers they can rightly classify as #1 through #3 starters. In what I suspect is a related story, the Pirates staff posted the worst team ERA in the National League last season at 5.08, nearly 0.3 runs per game worse than the next worst team, the Colorado Rockies. As usual, there are a few youngsters who will be competing for a starting rotation spot whom Pirates management claim to be “high on.” Though tempting, I’ll refrain from making a joke about Pirates GM Neil Huntington grinding up and smoking Jeff Karstens, because I really see Huntington as a cocaine sort of guy.

Bullpen: Baseball writers often describe quality bullpens in ways that make them sound more like military reinforcements or structural supports on buildings. They use words like bolster and stabilize, and characterize reliable bullpen arms as modern day minutemen, ready to quell any offensive upswell by the HGH fueled opposition. Pirates fans are more accustomed to hearing their bullpen likened to flammable materials. This year should be no different. Matt Capps, John Grabow, and Tyler Yates will anchor this year’s pen. And, when I say “anchor,” I mean children under the age of 18 should not be allowed to watch the late innings of Pirates’ games.

Catcher: Ryan Doumit looks to build on his quality offensive numbers (.318, 15 HR, 69 RBI) from last season, while hoping to do a better job of staying healthy (only appeared in 116 games). Actually, I assume that’s what he’s hoping for. It’s what I’m hoping for. If nothing else, Doumit provided me with my favorite Pirates offseason quote. When Neal Huntington announced that Doumit had been signed to a long-term deal, he noted that both Doumit and the Pirates had to assume some risk with the contract. In response, Doumit told Karen Price of the Pittsburgh Tribune Review,

I didn’t look at it as a risk... I could see how it could be a risk to them with my injury list, but I didn’t think it was a risk at all for me.

Let me translate that for you:

I’m a competitive guy, and I’d prefer to play. Unfortunately, unless I’m encased in bubble wrap for the rest of eternity, I’m going to spend at least 6 weeks a year on the disabled list, and there’s a chance I’m going to suffer a career-ending injury in the next 18 months. Guaranteed money? Where do I sign?

First base: The Pirates will not have anybody at first base for the first half of the year. After the All-Star break, Adam LaRoche will be the Bucs’ first baseman. Actually, that’s not true. Adam will be there the entire time, it’s just going to seem like he’s not there for the first half of the year.

Middle infield: Really, I’m too lazy to give Freddy Sanchez and Jack Wilson their own entries at second base and shortstop, respectively. Freddy hasn’t been much of an offensive weapon since winning the National League batting title in 2006, and Wilson is a throwback player, in all possible ways. He’s an excellent defensive shortstop who dives for any ball in his zip code, but he’s also a light hitter. While the rest of the league has moved on (or tried to move on) to more complete players like Hanley Ramirez, Jose Reyes, and Jimmy Rollins, the Pirates have been trying to trade Wilson to anyone who will take him. But they won’t take him. It’s almost like the league has evolved to the point that a light-hitting shortstop doesn’t have much value. Wait, I think I’m on to something...

Third base: The Pirates will not have anybody at third base before or after the All-Star break. Actually, that’s not true. Andy LaRoche will be at the hot corner the entire season. It’s just going to seem like no one’s there. (If you’re not familiar with the LaRoche brothers, just think of them like the Giles brothers, only much, much worse.)

Outfield: Expect big years from Jason Bay and Xavier Nady. Sure, Bay can be streaky at times and his outfield range is lackluster, but his numbers will be there at the end of the season. Ditto Nady. Unfortunately, Bay and Nady will be playing for the Red Sox and Yankees, respectively, this season after being dealt prior to the trade deadline in 2008. In return, the Pirates “snagged” the following “major-league ready” outfield talent: Brandon Moss. Nate McLouth hopes to build on his breakout 2008 season, and while I hate to poo on his parade, his numbers following the Bay and Nady deals last year aren’t encouraging. I don’t want to suggest anything too distressing for Pirates fans, but methinks Nate is going to need a little more protection in the lineup if he hopes to repeat his 2008 numbers. Nyjer Morgan and Craig Monroe are also in the mix for outfield spots, but pondering either one getting significant playing time depresses me.

Are we done yet? Thank God. That was unbearable to write. There’s no real sense in providing a final outlook statement, but as this claims to be a season preview, I suppose it’s mandatory. Here’s my version: With a lackluster pitching staff, an inconsistent infield, and a outfield that lost 2 prime performers without getting any major-league help in return, Pirates fans can expect their club’s historic run of poor performance to continue in 2009 and beyond. Perhaps more distressing than the lack of talent at the major league level is the utter dearth of prospects in the farm system. With proper mismanagement, 20 consecutive losing seasons is not out of the question. Let’s put that in perspective. There are Pittsburghers who are legally driving who were not yet born the last time the Pirates posted a winning season. It’s possible that someday there will be Pittsburghers who are of legal drinking age who were not yet born the last time the Pirates posted a winning season. Jesus.

Actually, I think that makes a fine slogan for the 2009 club. “The 2009 Pittsburgh Pirates. Jesus.”

The ugly end

Last night, after a couple beers with a few old friends (I realize this sounds like the beginning of a joke, but it isn’t), we began discussing the current state of the economy. One of my friends wondered aloud,

What happens if the current economic collapse extends well beyond its present state? What if the government fails, currency becomes worthless, and we’re all plunged into a state of total anarchy? Do you just form a gang with your friends and start looting and pillaging?

Between the three of us, we have 9 academic degrees (including high school diplomas), with two more on the way. BA, MA, MFA, PhD. Unfortunately, collections of letters printed on high bond paper with raised seals don’t mean shit when you need to smack someone in the face with a 2x4 and steal his case of Faygo. Or, as my friend more appropriately put it, “I just want to watch the Arrested Development DVDs and drink good beer.”

I think this was the only time in my life when I looked at my two good pals, both of whom I’ve known for over 15 years, and thought, “Wow, I’m gonna need some new friends.” This economic stimulus thing better work, because I don’t want to choose my friends based on their ability to brain someone with a fungo bat.

Can you wait for me? I have to stop by my locker...

Yep, my locker. We have lockers at Duquesne Law, just like we did back in high school. Where else are we supposed to put our coats? What about books? It’s not like we’re going to take THOSE home. My locker is near Corie’s and Maggie’s. But other than that, it’s just a bunch of second years back there. I guess I got stuck there because on the first day of first year, I had this really cool locker up near the front, but the combination they gave me didn’t work, so I had to get a new one.

Today at lunch, they were having the blood drive right in the lounge where everyone eats. They take up like half the room with all those cots and chairs for people giving blood. I was sitting with Jess and Dennis most of the time, but Darren stopped by too. At least it wasn’t crowded with that dumb fat second year kid who yells so loudly about how great the Yankees are every day. OMG. I wish I could like totally make that kid sit somewhere else at lunch.

Do you think I’m exaggerating? Did you know that, at some point during my six semesters at Duquesne, the registrar has asked me for my parents’ address and phone number no less than eleven times? I’m 29. I’ve been married for over 6 years. My mom doesn’t list me as a dependent on her tax return. I don’t live at my parents’ place between semesters. My parents don’t pay my tuition or my fees. Why, oh stupid registrar, do you keep asking me for my parents’ address?

Oh, yeah; how could I forget that we had our prom at the Sheraton Station Square this year? They call it “Barrister’s Ball.” Everyone dresses up, and all of the girls talk about what people are wearing. A lot of people tried to go to this after-party, but they couldn’t get in.

Don’t misunderstand me; I’m not complaining. In fact, some part of me is enjoying the hell out of this break from the reality of having to be a grown-up. But next time it occurs to you to associate “law school” with any form of the word “professional,” just don’t.

An unsettling image

Some scenes cause one to immediately recoil in horror, shame, or disgust. For example, I've never been especially fond of fresh roadkill or seeing blood near the scene of a particularly violent car accident. Also not a fan of seeing a child or a dog being physically disciplined in public. The impact of these events or circumstances is immediate.

There are also scenes that cause one to develop a sinking feeling more slowly. Often, the delayed onset of dread is related to the fact that some mental processing must occur before the full extent of the problem can be appreciated. Like watching a snake wrangler at a local wildlife festival hurriedly scanning the ground near the serpentarium, with hooked snake-handling metal pole in hand. The only thing even remotely funny about this development was seeing the dawning awareness of the festival-goers, which was followed immediately by everyone looking at his or her feet.

Other than that, the Southeastern Wildlife Exposition in Charleston, SC was a perfectly fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

We're all professionals here (4)

Sadly, I know a number of people who would be qualified for this position.

Conversation or Micturition?

There’s a large lounge room in the middle of the law school building at Duquesne, a big open space with tables, booths, a few couches, and a coffee counter that also sells pre-made salads and sandwiches. Naturally, the bathrooms at this central location are the busiest in the law school. But despite the fact that I see at least three or for other dudes when I use the men’s room there, generally no conversation takes place at the urinals themselves. People will say things at the sinks and on the way in or out, but not while they’re actually peeing.

But one man makes his living breaking this custom. He’s a middle-aged law professor who taught his Corporations and Securities Regulation courses entirely through PowerPoint presentations. This guy walks up to the urinal, unzips, and starts chatting. He says things like, “cold out there today, huh” or “boy, that Steelers game yesterday made me nervous.” To supplement this conversational brilliance, the guy even looks at you while he’s saying these things. And I’m not talking about a casual glance; I’m talking about looking at you the way he’d look at you in conversation across a table. He’ll even take the urinal right next to yours even if all of the others are open.

Where did this guy learn this? Did he grow up someplace where all the dudes would line up at the urinals and have conversation time? Did his dad tell him that he should talk to other men in the restroom? Doesn’t he notice how awkwardly some guys respond to him (or don’t) when he does this? For me, I guess there’s just something slightly amiss about making small talk with a colleague while your dicks are both hanging out.

Ducking software

I know about our nation’s puritanical roots. I know that we like to consider ourselves an enlightened society and an example to the world of clean living. I know about the FCC. I know about editors. I know about setting an example for our young.

I also know that when composing a text message using the “Word” entry method on my cell phone, I have never once intended to write the words “duck” or “ducking.” For instance, I do not generally intend to pose queries like, “Where the duck are you?” Also, I have never sought to admonish anyone for “ducking up our plans.” If I type a 3-8-2-5 sequence on my cell phone, I’m okay if my phone rewards me with the word “duck” the first 5 or even 10 times. Really, I’m okay with this being the default response. But the software should be smart enough to learn that if I type the sequence 3-8-2-5 and then change the word “duck” to a very similarly-spelled word (and I don’t mean euck) 50 or 100 times in a row, I want that other word.

Verizon, please let me teach my cell phone how to swear more efficiently.

Dear Dirty Dergs,

In what amounts to the slowest seduction in the history of mankind, I have been building rapport with a guy I see at a weekly entertainment gathering featuring one of our many shared interests. (No, gerbils are not involved.) Things were going splendidly until last night. We simultaneously reached for the same drink coaster, and I couldn't help but notice that his fingernail was kind of long. That seriously grossed me out. I didn't get a good look at his whole hand, so I don't know if it was just that one nail or all of them, or if this is the norm for him or just a chance oversight on that particular night. So I started thinking about it, and my question is - does it make me an awful person to be put off by a long fingernail? Or am I justified in my mild disgust, since long fingernails are likely indicative of lax personal grooming habits in general?

- Don't touch me with those

*********************************

Dear Don't touch me with those,

I like this question for two reasons. First, it's going to permit me to make a joke involving dead skunks and cabbage. Second, it touches on a basic difference in the way that boys and girls are socialized. From a young age, women are force-fed the bullshit notion that they will be blessed with a perfect mate in their adult lives. Prince Charming, Ken (of Ken & Barbie fame), and Lindsay Lohan's dad reinforce the archetype of the Dreamboat Male. Men who fail to achieve perfection in their personal lives, and more importantly, in their wooing of a particular woman, should be discarded immediately. Seriously, God was obviously hungover when he let that one slip through Quality Control. Boys, on the other hand, are not indoctrinated to hold such lofty ideals. We hear sitcom dads lament, "Women, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." We're told that all women are crazy. We're told other things that can only be described as misogynistic. The result of all of this is that the archetype of the Perfect Woman doesn't exist. (Not for males in American culture, anyway. Women are still slapped around with the archetype of the Perfect Woman, but that's a story for a different post). And, while most reasonably intelligent people learn to dismiss the conventional wisdom about the opposite sex, I think women suffer a worse hangover from the Prince Charming Myth. The idea of a perfectly tuned mate, companion, and lover is, after all, a rather compelling idea, and one not easily parted with.

Which brings us back to Captain Fingernails. If long fingernails are this guy's biggest red flag, well... nail clippers make a great stocking stuffer. Perhaps more to the point, if you haven't noticed his long fingernails before, then it's entirely possible that he doesn't often sport long fingernails. Additionally, lax grooming habits tend to manifest themselves in other rather obvious ways. For example, smelling like the fart of a lion who just ate 6 cabbage-stuffed dead skunks might indicate that your would-be dreamboat doesn't bathe as frequently as perhaps he should. Or maybe he has a pound-and-a-half of partially chewed Tootsie Rolls stuck to his teeth. If you haven't noticed these things (though I don't claim I've provided you with an exhaustive list), then perhaps his personal grooming habits do generally meet your standards. In any case, if you've enjoyed this person's company for several months, I recommend that you give the bloke another shot. If his nails are too long for your taste the next couple times you see him, then you have a choice. You can either toss him back into the pond, or you can try to alter the behavior you find troubling. (Agree to flash him every time you see him with recently clipped nails, for instance.) Sure, it's not as much fun as a perfectly-groomed Prince Charming arriving on your doorstep. But, it beats the obvious alternative (making out with an 8" x 10" glossy of Lindsay Lohan's dad).

-Joe

*********************************

Dear Don't touch me with those,

I’m picky as hell. All manner of things put me off when I’m around women. For instance, I absolutely hate the disgusting taste and odor of any kind of coffee or tea. If I smell this on a woman’s breath, it’s about as off-putting as the thought of Willie Colon in a pink tutu. And don’t get me started on women’s pants that have those super-high waistlines. The pants themselves might be fine if women didn’t feel the need to tuck shirts into them to show off the fact that their waistlines are halfway up their abdomens. Why would a woman want to look like Cameron Diaz as that ho Christina Pagniacci in Any Given Sunday? And finally, I have to say that, yes, long fingernails put me off too, even clean ones. They’re just so impractical. I’m all for giving props to fashion, but seriously, those things just get in the way of everything: typing, cooking, even reaching into one’s pockets. Who has time to fuss with that?

But though all of these things (and many others) put me off, but I try to stop short of judging the woman in her entirety because of this kind of stuff. I mean, I don’t want to turn into Elaine from Seinfeld. If a woman drinks coffee or tea, she might still be worthwhile. If she wears high-pants, maybe she just couldn’t find any others that fit, or maybe they didn’t look as high in the fitting room mirror. If she has long fingernails, maybe her friend made her get some kind of makeover, she had them put on, and she’s planning to take them off as soon as she can. For all I know, this girl went on a date last night with Chris Kemoeatu and he forced her to put them on.

What I’m saying, Don’t touch me with those, is that I think you should give yourself the chance to get to know this guy better instead of letting this one (admittedly disgusting) thing sour what might otherwise be a pleasant seduction.

-Brian

5 Reasons the Steelers will win Super Bowl XLIII

Yesterday, I offered 5 reasons the Cardinals will hoist the Lombardi Trophy on February 1st. Here’s why I was wrong:

The Good Big Ben will show up: If you don’t follow the Steelers closely, you should know that there’s Good Big Ben, and there’s Evil Big Ben. Evil Big Ben throws late over the middle into triple coverage while 350 pound yinzers in Blawnox simultaneously choke on whole pierogies and have heart attacks. Good Big Ben makes smart decisions, has an uncanny ability to sense pressure, and hits receivers in stride 35 yards downfield while big-haired chicks from Crafton-Ingram jump happily and spill out of their pink ladies’ cut Hines Ward Starter jerseys. Here are typical box scores comparing the two:

Good Big Ben: 12 for 14, 184 yards, 3 TD
Evil Big Ben: 21 for 46, 326 yards, 2 TD, 4 INT

Please, Santa, all I want for the Super Bowl is the Good Big Ben. The lives of obese Pittsburghers depend on it. (I’ll admit this is more of a hope than a reason that the Steelers will prevail).

Steelers strong safety Troy Polamalu will do Troy Polamalu things: One of these days, he’s going to intercept a pass by spontaneously growing wings and flying towards the ball. We can only hope that Gus Johnson is calling the game in which this happens.

The NFL has finally agreed to the Harrison rule: A recent (and unprecedented) midseason rules change now makes it easier for the officiating crew to identify when James Harrison is being held. Here’s the rule: “If James Harrison is not being double- or triple-teamed and he fails to record a sack on a passing play, then offensive holding must be called. It is the only possible explanation for such a sequence of events.”

Steelers defensive coordinator Dick LeBeau has two weeks to gameplan: By the time the beginning of February rolls around, the good Mr. LeBeau will have devised three dozen new blitz schemes with names that sound like 80’s hair bands or Star Wars bounty hunters. How good is he? The man is such a master of defensive schemes that there are people in the Steelers organization who still believe that he can turn Anthony Smith into a reliable NFL safety. (If you’re not familiar with Anthony Smith’s body of work, just know that believing in his defensive ability in his 3rd pro season is akin to believing in Santa Claus at the age of 37.)

The Steelers are the more tested team: Of the Cardinals 9 regular season wins, 6 of them came against the 49ers (7-9), the Seaturkeys (4-12), and the Rams (2-14). Their remaining three wins came against the Cowboys, the Bills, and a week 2 win over the Dolphins. Among these teams, only the Dolphins qualified for the playoffs. (Even this is something of a ruse, as the Cardinals caught the Dolphins during a lousy 2-4 start. Miami didn’t play good football until the end of October.) The Cardinals’ regular season losses came to the Redskins, Jets, Panthers, Giants, Eagles, Vikings, and Patriots. Of these, only the Patriots (an 11 win team), the Jets (9 wins), and the Skins failed to qualify for the postseason. Four of the Cards losses were by double digits (margins of defeat: 21, 28, 21, and 40 points). Give the Cards this much: they beat the teams they’re supposed to beat. But when they’re supposed to lose, they have a tendency to get beaten like red-headed stepchildren.

Meanwhile, the Steelers’ only losses came to the Eagles, Giants, the Colts, and the Titans, all playoff qualifiers. Of these losses, only the thrashing at the hands of Tennessee was a double digit defeat. In the regular season, they beat playoff qualifiers San Diego, Baltimore (twice), and thumped an 11 win Patriots team. In the postseason, they throttled the Chargers and beat the Ravens for the third time this season. As with financial assets, past performance is not a guarantee of future results. And, these postseason Cardinals don’t much resemble the team that got spanked in New England on Thanksgiving night. Still, I’ll take the Steelers on this one. They keep games close. They win close games. And, they’ve done it all year. You can’t say the same for the Cardinals.

5 Reasons the Steelers will lose Super Bowl XLIII

Like it or not, your average Steelers fan should admit that the upcoming tilt against the Cardinals is going to be a little tougher than most suspect. Here are five reasons the Cardinals will notch a W on February 1st:

1. The Ike Taylor - Larry Fitzgerald matchup: If you’re a Steelers fan, this one’s going to be more uncomfortable to watch than the Biden-Palin VP debate in which the Republican party’s new flagship did everything short of pretending to not understand English in an effort to avoid directly answering a question. The only hope is that Steelers defensive coordinator Dick LeBeau comes up with some really crafty solution to the Fitzgerald problem, like a defensive pygmy. You know, little dude pops up from the sideline, blows a tranquilizer dart into Larry Fitzgerald’s neck, and then hides in Casey Hampton’s rear end for the rest of the game. Because if there’s one thing of which we can all be certain, it’s that no one on the officiating crew will have the stones to conduct a full cavity search on Casey Hampton.
2. The Ken Whisenhunt - Russ Grimm brain trust: If the names Ken Whisenhunt and Russ Grimm sound familiar to Pittsburghers, its because they were integral parts of the Steelers coaching ranks for a number of years. Whisenhunt spent 3 seasons as the tight ends coach and another 3 as the offensive coordinator. His ascension to offensive coordinator coincided with the arrival of Big Ben, and he’s generally credited with helping develop the franchise QB. Russ Grimm also spent 6 seasons with the Black and Gold, holding the titles of Offensive Line Coach (all 6 years) and Assistant Head Coach (for the last 3 years he was with the team). They know the Steelers personnel very well. They tangled with the vaunted Steelers D on a daily basis and had the joy of dealing with Dick LeBeau’s weekly schematic mind f**ks. Yes, I know, the Steelers system and personnel have evolved somewhat, but I think it’s folly to conclude that the Cardinals coaching staff doesn’t enjoy at least a small tactical advantage in the upcoming game. And, oh yes, both Whisenhunt and Grimm were passed over for the Steelers head coaching position when Bill Cowher “retired.” Methinks they remember that sequence of events.
3. Will Big Ben drink like a champion again? Some pictures are worth a thousand words. Others make you want to vomit your chipped ham sandwich. I know, these pictures are now 3 years old, and yes, I know that Ben was only 23 when they were taken. How mature is your average 23-year-old male, honestly? But, here’s the problem. Big Ben’s only 26 now. How mature is your average 26-year-old male, honestly?
4. The Mitch Berger experience: It blows my mind that one of the most devastating injuries of the year for the Steelers was the loss of punter Daniel Sepulveda. He’s been “replaced” at various times this season by Paul Ernster and Mitch Berger. Mr. Berger is the current punter, and unfortunately, I can’t print the nickname my brother and I have assigned to him. I can tell you that it involves a penis joke and is intended to be derogatory. Mitch, though he would probably be one of the better punters in your average Turkey Bowl, is not a very good punter by NFL standards. Mark my words: the man will shank at least one punt in the Super Bowl.
5. Santonio Holmes is due for another arrest: What? Someone had to say it.

Now, before all the Steelers fans elect to use the comments section to recommend unsavory and/or physically impossible activities that I should perform on myself or my mother, please know that tomorrow I will offer 5 competing reasons why your beloved Stillers will prevail in Super Bowl XLIII.

We're all professionals here (3)

Another job listing gem:

You have have a bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering or Physics and 3-5 years of Mechanical engineering design experience. You enjoy working in teams and have outstanding communication skills.

No, I think you have have outstanding communication skills.

What happened to the “cheap date?”

In case you haven’t heard, recent San Diego State graduate Natalie Dylan wants to auction off her virginity to the highest bidder. The deed will occur at the infamous Bunny Ranch in Nevada, one of the few remaining legal brothels in that state. She figured that she’d like to get $1 million, but as you can see here, the bidding has already reached $3.7 million.

The first thing I wondered when I saw this last week was why Google would sort it into the Science and Technology category. I sat down to read about Microsoft’s latest bug-ridden piece of garbage, but instead I discovered the current price of Natalie Dylan’s virginity. Does Dylan have some kind of high-tech anatomy the likes of which no one has had sex with before? As far as I know, she does not intend to introduce revolutionary fuel-cell technology to the sex toy industry...

But really—$3.7 million? How could one sexual encounter with the supposedly virginal Natalie Dylan possibly be worth that? There’s no denying that she’s fairly good-looking, but she’s no Emma Watson or Penelope Cruz. Surely some of the Bunny Ranch’s regular employees are equally attractive, and they would have the advantage of having more experience with their craft. Plus, they wouldn’t charge $3.7 million. So why Dylan? Is it supposed to be a publicity stunt? If so, it’s pathetic—the auction gets most of its attention in small-time, alternative media while the major news outlets have ignored it. I don’t even remember reading anything about who’s doing the bidding.

As inexplicable as I find the bidding end of this thing, I’m still fascinated by it. Every day, I google her name to find out the latest: maybe she’ll stay a virgin if a rich Christian donates the money in her name to a charity; now that she has a book deal and a movie deal, there are rumors that she doesn’t want to go through with it; etc. If you don’t understand how I could find such a stupid thing compelling on a daily basis, then clearly you have never seen the inside of a law school classroom.

Catholic roots and party fouls

Once the act of dropping has begun, some items should not be attempted to be retrieved midair. Knives come to mind. Perhaps small pets as well, as they’re probably better off tussling with gravity on their own at that point. To this list I would add beer bottles. But, the instinct to grab, to save, and to preserve is so strong that is simply does not matter. In your infinite lack of wisdom, you’re going to stab stupidly at the air and your beer bottle in some quixotic, doomed effort to prevent the inevitable spillage. Not unlike I did on a recent evening while relaxing on a friend’s couch.

An errant hand gesture, my own in this case, set the events in motion. The bottle fell only about a foot before I batted it toward my left hand with my right before pinning it against the left side of my lower torso. This conveniently, and much to the amusement of my peers, showered my shirt and my right thigh with beer, miraculously sparing every other surface in play, including the couch. Naturally, I apologized to everyone for the incident, prompting Brian to remark, “That was such a Joe party foul. You harmed only yourself, failed to spill a single drop of beer on the host’s property, and then apologized to everyone for the episode.”

And, If you fail to realize why I should apologize after committing an act that yielded no victims (save myself), harmed no property, and generally amused those around me, then you were obviously not raised in a Catholic family.

We're all professionals here (2)

Dear readers,

Once more I offer you an excerpt from a carefully crafted job posting:

Salary leval and bonuses will be very high, in accordance with this posiiton's value.

I know neither what a leval nor a posiiton is, but I’d be lying if I didn’t claim to be intrigued by this opportunity.