Let's get one thing straight...

OK, my monkeys. There has been some debate over the outcome of a battle of me versus TMS. Let's look at some facts.

1. It is true I like beer and sausage more then TMS. Edge: TMS.
2. I move with the speed of a drunk mongoose with the speed of TWO drunken mongooses. Edge: Bunny.
3. Steve Perry is on my side. Edge: WAY Bunny.
4. TMS can see her feet. Edge: TMS.
5. I can see TMS's feet. Edge: Bunny.
6. TMS can recite every Supreme Justice ever born. Ever. Edge: Bunny (distraction by me.)
7. Bunny likes bacon. (ahh, the power of bacon.) Edge: Bunny.

Clearly, I would win by a score of 5-2. Of course, this does not factor in such elements as physical prowess or stamina, bu that doesn't matter.

Bacon rules us all in one form or another.

See you soon, monkeys.

I finally figured it out.

I always had a hard time articulating my love for baseball relative to football. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy football greatly, and follow it passionately when in season. I love my Pats, and the joyous barbeques they bring and cause.

But let's get one thing straight right now.

Football is no baseball, and it never will be. At least not for me.

For me, football is pablum when steak is not available. It is brown, when orange is sold out.

As I (frequently) get into battles with football fans, I usually fail miserably.

Untill now.

I have finally figured out a way to express my feelings for baseball versus football. Interestingly, it came to me in the form of a comparative statement. So, here it is.

My Baseball Comparative Statement

Baseball is to football as chess is to foxy boxing.

I think that works rather well. Of course, I invite all opinions on the matter.

Meanwhile, the Sox are 0-2, and Barry Fucking Bonds* is still roaming the planet, albeit on crutches (coincidence? Maybe Barry Fucking Bonds, as the piece of dog shit he is, is using the "injury" as time to allow his head to shrink back down to a normal human's head before resuming his pitiful subterfuge of denial.)

But I don't even care. I'll be in Boston soon (two days) hanging with the posse, awaiting Opening Day (fa-la-la-la-la-la-la) and the purchase of my shiny new jersey. (Who to get? I haven't decided.)

See you wacky cheeseburgers and hamburgers soon.

A.

A sad entry.

To Heather and Chuck;

I am truly sorry for the loss of your father. I can't begin to comprehend what that feels like; it scares me to know I will someday.

To everyone else;

Call your dad (and mom) and tell them you love them. Do it right now.

Mine Eyes Hath Seen The Glory...

My God.

I just finished watching A League Of Thier Own.

My God.

I never realized how much of a perfect synthesis of all that is right in this world that movie is.

Baseball and chicks.

Chicks and baseball.

Chicks playing baseball.

Hot chicks playing baseball.

Hot chicks playing baseball in skirts!

My God.

And if you took out Rosie "Ima Guy" O'Donell and Madonna, they'd be Hella-hot chicks playing baseball in skirts.

Although, truth be told, I can think of one other cutie that would look hella-hot in one of dem dere outfits, and she'd make one hell of a second baseman. (I'd pay to see her hit fifth or sixth. My money's on .295/20/85, OPB .800 anyway; she's too swank to throw out.)

Now, excuse me whilst I go do just that.

11 days, 23 hours, 16 minutes until spring training.

Fuck....us!

A treatise in self-doubt.

Hello, friends.

I am writing today to speak to an issue many feel uncomfortable talking about.

Yes, I'm speaking of the inner Steve Perry in us all.

I've gotten a really interesting smattering of responses from people regarding my Steve Perry test. Almost all have been positive, and I've really enjoyed watching people learn which SP they are. but, there are those that doubt. I guess I can understand this. And to those I say; don't be afraid. I know you question yourselves. I know you have concerns. But that's ok. Noone wants to learn more about themselves when that knowledge could compromise one's self-image.

I'm talking to you, Foxxe. Don't worry. Take the test, and have the courage to learn more about yourself than you thought possible.

And to others I say this; help me put the Foxxe at ease. Write to him. Comment on his blog. Let him know we will continue to love and respect him regardless of which Steve Perry is truly is.

We're here for you Foxxe.

I think Steve said it best when he penned Rubicon. Foxxe, here are the lyrics just for you. Garner strength from them, friend, and take the quiz.

We love you, Foxxe. Take a ride across the Rubicon, my friend; burning youth won't wait.


Rubicon

In this promised land
Fire burnin in our hands
The choice is ours to make
Realize your fantasy
You live the dream
With every step you take
Stand tall stand on the edge
Use the thin end of the wedge
The will to cast your fate
Don't turn around too late
Lose ground if we hesitate
Burning youth won't wait

Make a move across the rubicon
Futures knockin' at your door
Take your time
And choose the road you want
Opportunity is yours

See it all so clear
Time is right time is near
We know now what to do
All God's children learn
Which way to turn
Turning back we're through
We all refuse to lose
Live life and light the fuse
Burning youth won't wait

It's about friggin' time.

Everyone, stop what you are doing and take this test right now. I designed it to bring out the truth in everyone. Actually, all it does it show you what you already know.

Good luck!

The best of something or another...

Yeah, I've lived a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit. Okay, a lot.

And what have I seen? What has life been gracious enough to show me, and divinity been kind enough to allow me to see it and appreciate it for what it is?

Well, let's just think about that, shall we?

What is the greatest x you've ever encountered or experienced?

I'll tell you what...I'll start. Then, I implore you to speak up; enthrall me with your acumen into your own lives.

Let's root around the dank, stale basements of our pasts and dust off those artifacts that shine the brightest in spite of the crust of funk the daily grind applies with a frightening speed...


The Best Wine I've Ever Drank Straight From the Bottle: 1998 Bernard Morey Grand Cru Batard-Montrachet. (Flippin' brilliant wine, even from the bottle.)

The Best Comfort Food I've Ever Had: Easy one; smack n' cheese with bits of hot dog in it.

The Best Temperature I've Ever Felt: 78 degrees fahrenheit, while basking on a beach in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

The Best Rock Concert I've Ever Attended: The Who, 2001, at the Tweeter Center in MA. It was soon after John Entwistle died of an overdose, so the band was kinda sad, but completely committed to providing a kick-ass show in his honor. If you've never heard a six-minute live introduction to Eminence Front, you have not lived, my friends.

The Best Beer I've Ever Had: Pete's Wicked Winter Brew. A retardedly yummy blend of beer, raspberries, and nutmeg. If they had added oral sex and sirloin steak to the recipe, I would have to have killed myself out of sheer recognition that life would simply never get any better.

The Best Snack Food I've Ever Had: Andy Capp's Pub Fries. They no longer make them. They were like Bugles, only with a rockstar factor of about twelve. So, of course, they discontinue them and risk evoking my ire. (Note to self: cut them. Cut them all.)

The Best Bullshit Excuse For Not Calling Me I've Ever Heard: "I'm sorry I didn't call. I was in Times Square and couldn't find a pay phone."

Ok, now it's your turn. And be creative. Favorite songs, movies, et al are great but somewhat mundane, eh? Let's drop trou and get to the nitty-gritty!

The Greatest Opening Lines.

Sometimes, I find myself experiencing an opening line to a book, song, or poem that is wonderous. And, since I know you little monkeys have opinions on the matter, I figured I'd open the floor up. I'll start it off with some entries (in no particular order.)


"Call me Ishmael"

-Moby Dick, Herman Melville



"Wasting away the hours that make up a lonely day/
fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way"

-Time, Pink Floyd


"Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today
2 get through this thing called life"

-Let's Get Crazy, Prince

Naptown Dandy (or, New Character brings it.)

This just in... (not really)

New Character came to Naptown last weekend. The mission? To bring it to a whole new level.

Boy howdy.

A few first-period cocktails at 14F, then off to the local for a night of sippy-sippy and guy-spying for NC. We introduced her around a bit, and she took to the skies. many drinks later, she was getting felt-up on the dance floor, and invited to birthday parties.

Well done, madam. Well done.

Before I forget...

Here is a transcript of Master Clark's New Year's Eve Speech. As with last year, he chickened out at the last moment, and only I got to hear the speach. I coaxed the paper from his hand, as all should have access to the speech. So, here it is. (If you like, imagine yourself all dolled up and buzzed for effect.)


Clark Madden's 2005 New Year's Eve Speech

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen; let me first thank our kind hosts at 14 Fleet. The standard for parties here was already very high; but I think we can agree this one shatters all previous records.

Speaking of parties past, Adam kindly asked me to offer the toast last year, and I actually wrote one, but I chickened out at the last moment. Now, however, fortified by a small washbasin of excellent martinis and the events of the year, I hope I am ready to embark.

I considered a number of different approaches; an Annapolis-themed parody of War of the Worlds, a Donald Rumsfeld-style Q&A session, a discussion of the election to be entitled "What the Expletive Happened?" But, ultimately, I couldn't make any of them work. I was temped to recycle last year's "The Year That Was" format, but instead, in keeping with the party's theme I respectfully submit our "Year That Will Be: A Vision of Annapolis in 2015."

Much of this glimmering city of the future remains familiar; the State House, the ridiculously overpowered and unimaginative private motor yachts and parking, even of hover cars, continues to suck. But much has changed too; and entire "Escape From New York"-style district has sprung around the ruins of the old Mexican Cafe and only those actually able to breathe magnificant bathtub tequila dare enter to forage for Huevos Rancheros and barter for illicit Parliaments, the only cigarette available.

Polar melting has submerged much of City Dock, and the construction of seventy-two new circles, a project begun in 2006 and still largely incomplete, make accessing the city center harder than it's been in a hundred years. One building clings tenaciously to life in the waters off State Circle; a lively underwater cantina, known simply as "14 F." There atop nimble robot bodies are the heads of Centamore, (sic), and Marshall, immersed in sweet, delicious liquor hosting parties and thrilling the younger guests with stories of a time before Astrolounge (TM, 2010) became a household name.

This concludes our tour of Annapolee 2105, home of the nation's largest interstellar boat show. Thank you for indulging me; to 2005, happiness, prosperity, and two o'clock licenses for all.

Happy New Year.

HEED THIS WARNING, CHICKEN FUCKERS.

If ANYONE, repeat ANYONE, EVER gets me this for ANY occassion EVER (!) I will HUNT your ass down and I...will...CUT...YOU.

Thank you for your attention in these matters.

The Costs of Doing Business with The Foxxe.

Ok. We need to talk.

The Foxxe's reaction to my op-ed piece on his manse was, I think, misguided. Let me refresh your memories...

I wrote a delightful satirical piece on Dan's Mansion, and included some of his most fervent fans. Sure, I took the liberty of doing so in a light-hearted "Medieval" tongue, but what the heck? He wanted to keep the drawbridge up all the time!

his response?

"Oh, for shame! And oh how the mighty have fallen. Once the Bunny roamed the frozen wastes of the Greater Quincy area and neither rain nor sleet nor snow would keep him from his appointed rounds. Now he quivers in fear at the thought of a mere four inches of snow.The Land of Pleasant Living has made you soft and weak, oh fretful Bunny. You must be... corrected."

Soft and weak? SOFT AND WEAK?

Ahem.

My dear friend Dan, may I be the first to assure you I am neither soft nor weak. My reluctance to sojurn into the snowy day was not for want to do so, nor was it 'fear' of the snow. Unfortunately, you seem to forget the utter lack of quality snow response is here; they have none. Four inches to them shuts things down. (Case in point: it snowed two inches yesterday, and half the town closed mid-day.) They don't know how to deal with it. And DC, believe it or not, is actually worse. (TMS, Whisky, Josh, back me up here.)

As far as "correcting me", well my friend, the Rockstar sayeth...

...bring it on, bitch.

(See you next week! I am ALL sorts of fired up.)

(For those not in the know, The Foxxe is comin' to town next weekend. Word.)

A Commentary on "A Man's Home."

The Foxxe wishes a manse akin to this. Who can blame him? I would love it, and I don't really like large abodes. In this manner, I find my opinions commensurate with TSF.

From there out, we differ. Whereas Dan feels he would comport himself in a regal, medieval manner towards those who visited (denying all that refuse to address him in a particular lexicon), methinks the interactions would be more like this...


Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part I (...or, the Princess approaches)

Heather approaches the upraised drawbridge, scans it over for a moment, and calls to Dan.

Heather: Dan! I'm here. Open up.
Dan: Callst me Lord of the Manor, and I shalst lettith you in, fair maiden!
H: Ha ha. Open the fucking door.
D: Whoist thinketh thine isethed? Darest you speaketh to me in sucheth a manor(eth)?
H: No, me thinketh if you don'teth open thine friggin' doorst, thy will findeth my foot in thine ass.
D: A parlay it is then! Knave! Openth the gate!

Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part II (...or, rock you like a Bunnycane.)

I apporach the castle (all the while, learning how to spell "approach,") and call to Dan.

Adam: Dan-o! You magnificant bastard! Open up!
Dan: Hark! Doeth mine ears tell me truly? Is thateth the Bunnyethest?
A: Yep. Open up.
D: I can'st doeth thateth, my goodly friendst. Thine are awarest of the rules of thiseth fine castle?
A: (no response)
D: Speaketh, goodly sir!
A: (no response)

Dan looks over the edge of the wall, and sees me sitting on the ground drinking a High Life from the case I brought, flipping him the bird.

D: A parlay it is, then! Knave! Openeth the gate!

Dan's Mighty Mighty Castle, Part III (...or, gee, I hope it doesn't stain!)

Snuggles drives up in his pickup truck. Parking out front, he unloads the portable meat smoker from the bed. Grabbing his porta-cooler, he calls to Dan.

Snuggles: Dan! Open up! I'm eatin' corn!
Dan: Willsteth keepeth thine voice downeth? Mine neighbors areth nosy!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Knave! Openeth the gate!
Snuggles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Oh, shit(eth)! Sorry, Dan, I got some
barbeque sauce on your door! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Dan: Cometh in, good sir, and leaveth some of the joy and pork ribs you bringst with you!
Snuggles: WHOOOP! WHOOOP! BOOBIES! Here, have a rib.
Dan: Methinks theseth are the finest ribs thou hast hadeth since morns goneth by!
Snuggles: Are you ok, Dan? Are you RETAHDED or somethin'? When's the game on?
Dan: Goodly friendeth, kindly useth mine "Bounty" brand paper towelseth, as thine are getting rib bits on myst coucheth.
Snuggles: You got the remote? The Sox are on.
Dan: Sigh(eth)(est).



Yeah, that seems much more like it. Good luck, Dan. And a bit of advice; put plastic over the really classy stuff...party at your house.

Into the breach once more...

Howdy, monkeys.

How you been?

Since I last wrote, many interesting thinks have crossed my stars. Many indeed. Of note...

1. I am amidst a 'career change' at the moment.
2. The Pats are returning to their 3rd Super Bowl in four years in a couple of weeks.
3. I haven't summoned up the courage to fight my non-existant heroin addiction.
4. I have a tête-à-tête over raw fish coming up with a most delightful unofficial singer.
5. I still have two (count 'em, two) testicles.
6. I'm catching a fair amount of flack over my lack of entries.

My apologies to all. It's been a VERY interesting 2005 thus far, and if these first few weeks are plotting any kind of a graph for the rest of the year, I submit the following odds for your considerations.

Odds & Event

10:1

Rampant, drunk jackaloupe holds me at gunpoint while humping
my leg and calling me "Tess."

77:1

Inexplicably, NASA calls me asking for advice on how to properly
perform a competent azimuth calibration while riding a train. Even
more inexplicably, I happen to know the answer.

4:1

One of you will receive a call from me seeing if you know the whereabouts of either my dignity, my kidneys, or my autographed picture of the cast from Gilligan's Island. These odds include the likelihood of their having run off together.

1,375,999:2

I trick a beautful woman into dating me, and she somehow overlooks my proclivity for being an utter jackass.

34,632,867,234:1

At some point she (willingly) gives it up for the home team (ooh! bet on this one! You'll win $34.6 billion dollars for each dollar you bet! Foxxe, this can pay for the bar we always wanted. Can you say "black and ham"?)

17:1

I will conquer the whole "light without heat" argument, and go on to win the Nobel Peace Prize for Pie Eating.

81:3

Hollywood digititizes my likeness and re-masters an episode of Knight Rider to include me driving next to Kit in the Trans-Am from Smokey and the Bandit. I would have a catch phrase like, "Hey, muffins, drop that hat!", or, "Smellin' fine, baby, what's your face?"

107:1

I survive to turn 35.

yep, sure is going to be interesting.