"The Last of a Dying Breed"

(We all knew it would take something "inspiring" to get this Blog started again...)

For the better part of the last twelve years, I've woken up each morning listening to the same radio program; a man talking about strippers, farts, pop culture and news from around the world. He gave his opinion, quite blatantly, and didn't care whether or not you agreed. Yet, when I woke up this morning, something felt different. I knew in the back of my mind that come Monday, there would be no Robospanker. There would be no pornstars, no Wheel of Benjy, and no Wack Pack. Today, when Howard Stern signed off, it would be the last time we'd hear The Show on terrestrial radio, a show which was the last of a dying breed.

What so many people never understood was that The Show was something more than just dick and fart jokes. It wasn't just Howard vs. The FCC. It was more than porn stars and strippers. It was a bastion of free speech, and you either got "it", or you didn't. And for those who did, it was a magnificent ride.

I don't necessarily remember when The Show first came to The Edge in Albany, but I remember listening on a walkman on the schoolbus. I remember being drawn to the honesty of the show, where the people there could, and would, "tell it like it is." I found myself amazed by wack packers like Crackhead Bob, Kenneth Keith Kallenbach, Melrose Larry Green and Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf and unable to believe that people like these actually existed.

The Show was most notorious for it's FCC fines, it's toilet humor, and for "the corruption of America's Youth." But people forget about the times that the schtick took a backseat to something more serious, and it very simply became a man behind a microphone. Many forget, yet I still remember, the time that Howard talked a suicide jumper down from the George Washington Bridge. Many forget how he calmly reported news of the September 11th attacks to his listeners, as they saw the flames coming from the Twin Towers while they broadcast from their K-Rock Studio, and gave updates as the news came across the wires. Afterwards, Howard stood on the stage at VH1's Concert for New York City afterwards to encourage listeners and viewers to send their support across America. These are the things that get forgotten amidst everything else.

The guest list from the show is a virtual Who's Who for the past 20 years. From politicians, to movie stars and music icons, to crack whores and nutjobs, no person and no topic was off limits. There was a different atmosphere for guests, who didn't have to stick to the standard PR rhetoric. They could loosen up and talk about things that you'd never hear on "Regis and Kelly," and that was accepted as being part of the deal. If you wanted to be a guest on The Show, you couldn't be uptight. You had to put it all on the table and roll with the punches.

But in true variety show fasion, it wasn't all news and interviews. On so many mornings, I heard great acoustic musical performances. "Everlong" by Foo Fighters became an internet classic, as is "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette. The Show allowed me to discover so many great comedians I would have never heard, or never bothered to listen to, otherwise. My radio churned out the one-liners from people like Gilbert Gottfried, Mitch Hedberg and Earthquake. There were three different versions of Robert Schimmel in that time: the married Schimmel, the divorced Schimmel, and the re-married (to his daughter's best friend) Schimmel. I nearly drove off the road when I heard Craig Gass's impression of the late Sam Kinison. And it allowed me to develop a deeper appreciation for the comic genius that was Rodney Dangerfield.

And speaking of celebrities, there were all the interviews from Stuttering John Melendez and Gary Garver. I still laugh when I think about Stuttering John interviewing Frank Gifford, asking him if his kids called him "Grandpa." There was the time he asked Martina Navratilova if she hated bananas. And there's the famous clip (which I saw in Government class in High School) where he asked, "D-d-d-d-d-did Governor Clinton use a c-c-c-c-condom?" at the Gennifer Flowers press conference.

One of my favorite episodes was the time that Stuttering John was at Boston University, trying to figure out why Howard wasn't a Distinguished Alum in the College of Communication. He spoke with then-Dean Brent Baker, who suggested that Howard come down to WTBU and "spin some records with the kids." Not satisfied, Stuttering John then walked into The Castle, home to Chancellor John Silber, and started yelling for the Chancellor to come out and talk. Shortly thereafter, he took to the streets to find then-President Jon Westling, whom he called "Wrestling."

I'll never forget the Las Vegas shows...enough said.

During his farewell address to the masses gathered in New York City, Howard referenced an article written on msnbc.com by Helen A.S. Popkin titled "The Last Days of Howard Stern," in which she says that he and his show are "the last of a dying breed." It's true. Broadcasters cannot put the same type of show out that once aired. They are constantly being forced to find new ways and words to describe something considered "obscene." Radio stations aren't willing to take a chance on shows where indecency fines will be levied against them because a host used the word "anal." And it's sad.

Some people say that Howard will lose his audience, and that may, in part, be true. Not every listener is going to follow him to Sirius. I, for one, fully intend to sign up for the ride. But Satellite Radio is still a burgeoning entity and as Howard said on 60 Minutes, his primary concern is to broadcast The Show as he used to do it years ago. He said that he understands that there will be people who will not follow him...he wishes they would, but knows that not everyone will make the trip. That's the nature of the beast though. Some concessions will have to be made.

In closing, thank you Howard, Fred, Robin, Artie and Gary for making me laugh every morning from Monday to Friday, through good times and bad. Thank you for allowing your audience to take a look into your world, and for doing your part to "stick it to The Man." Your show truly is the last of a dying breed.

Thank you so much for the memories. I'll see you in the Promised Land...

Ramblings...

Hey now! Welcome back everybody...thanks for making the trip. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

Has anyone ever ordered the oysters at Hooters? I'm just curious. I mean, why is it even on the menu in the first place?

Sami and I drove through some of the deadest towns on our way to Cooperstown. I mean, seriously, it was actually depressing. There were towns where the roofs to houses were being held on using old tires as weights. There was one house which looked like it had aluminum foil for siding. Tons of pre-fab houses and trailers...I honestly can't imagine what it would have been like to live there...these towns died and nobody had the decency to tell them...

From the drive to Cooperstown...
Sami: "I haven't seen a firehouse anywhere in the past three towns."
O: "What about that one that we passed?"
Sami: "I don't think so. The fire truck was for sale."

On the way to Cooperstown, we celebrated his entire collection of Beastie Boys CDs, as well as the Throwing Copper album by Live. Who doesn't love mid-to-late 90s music?

While waiting in line to enter the Hall of Fame, I was getting increasingly pissed at the woman standing in line in front of us. She couldn't control her son and daughter, both somewhere between 12 and 14 years old, as they stood there shoving each other for about a half-hour. On top of that, she claimed that the only "good thing" about the Hall of Fame, the "only thing worth seeing" was that stupid-ass shitty baseball movie. The only thing worth seeing in the Hall of Fame? Seriously, re-evaluate this situation. There are bats used by Babe Ruth and uniforms from Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle. There's one of every World Series ring ever made. There's priceless pieces of baseball memorabilia, not to mention the actual Hall of Fame itself, where the greatest players ever are enshrined. But no...the movie is the only good thing about the Hall of Fame. Go fuck yourself, ma'am...

This Week's Sign of the Apocalypse: Skidmore College is having Jeremy Schaap (Cornell graduate) as the keynote speaker for the grand opening of their Athletic Hall of Fame. I wonder if he'll start off with "Good afternoon. I'm Jeeearemy Schaap........ESPN."

The Nip/Tuck season finale should have revealed the identity of The Carver. Now we have to wait until June for the third season. But at least I correctly predicted that Ava was a dude. Also, congrats to Rescue Me on a great first season. My only problem with F/X is those stupid-ass Stacker 2 commercials with the Terror Squad. It's the most retarded commercial. Two "rival" gangs set to face off, and then they all pull out Stacker 2 energy drinks and hug and laugh. And then, Fat Joe says, "And that ain't no bull....HA!" Seriously, what the fuck? Someone should have busted a cap just for the concept of that fucked-up commercial...

The Random Shout Out this week goes out to Dan and Janice Hillsdon. Congratulations on your wedding and best wishes for continued health and happiness together...

Song of the Moment: Dave Matthews Band, "Pig," Before These Crowded Streets, 1998
"What point could there be troubling?
Head down, wondering 'What will become of me?'
Why concern, we cannot see
But no reason to abandon it.
Time is short, time...that's all right
Maybe I'll go out in the middle of the night
Take your hands from your eyes, my love.
All good things must come to an end some time.
But don't burn the day...away..."

Fuck the FCC...Stern still rules! Only 15 months and change to buy a Satellite radio with the Sirius network...

On a side note, from another of BU's distinguished alumni. During each episode of Bill O'Reilly's No Spin Zone, he reads and responds to reader e-mail. There's nothing like hearing O'Reilly read a viewer e-mail from "Jack Mehoffer" and do it completely straight-faced...an instant addition to Fred's soundboard on Howard Stern...

Jim Thome has a new commercial out for the MLB sponsored Boys and Girls Club where he teaches the youngsters to hit. He goes through his routine during every at-bat and then the kids try and everyone laughs and has a good time. He didn't grab his crotch 30 times though. If you're gonna talk about your routine, how can you leave out the crotch grab? It's an integral part! He's been doing it since Day One in Cleveland. I think those kids may have been cheated a bit, not being taught the professional crotch grab...

But then again, what do I know?

Ramblings...

Welcome back everyone...thanks for making the trip. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

Perhaps the funniest moment from the Yanks-Sox series at Fenway Park was watching Hideki Matsui and Kevin Millar chatting at first base. I'd love to know what they were talking about, considering neither of them has a firm grasp on the English language...

Ichiro has nearly reached George Sisler's record for hits in a season. Does it bother anyone else that nobody has mentioned that Sisler did it in 154 games as opposed to the 162 games that Ichiro has? And no, I'm not saying this just because he's Japanese. I'm just saying that it should have been mentioned somewhere along the road...

The 50th Anniversary issue of Sports Illustrated had one of the coolest, most amazing covers that I've seen. And the issue itself was pretty awesome. On a side note, every issue of ESPN: The Magazine that I receive brings me closer and closer to cancelling it...

The Lindsay Lohan GQ is already on newsstands and I have not yet received my issue. This is getting to be ridiculous. Preferred subscriber my ass...

I might be working at my old High School as a substitute teacher. Go ahead, start the pederass jokes now...

Eight years after it was first released, I still know all the words to "Fire Water Burn" by The Bloodhound Gang. That scares me...

Song of the Moment: Billy Joel, "Only The Good Die Young," The Stranger, 1977
"They say there's a Heaven for those who will wait,
Some say it's better but I say it ain't.
I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints,
The sinners are much more fun..."

If there was one funny moment to pick out of all the hurricane footage from Florida, it had to be the interview with the one guy who said, "To hell with all this, I'm moving back north! I never lost my house because of a damn snowstorm!"

Jay Leno announced that he's leaving The Tonight Show...in 5 years! Seriously, what the hell kind of announcement is that? I mean, I'm glad for Conan O'Brien and all, but there's a lot that can happen in 5 years. For all we know, Leno's chin could get a mind of it's own and take over. What a bullshit attempt to get ratings now that his show is tanking...

Fuck the FCC! Stern still rules...

It's been a while, but I've gotta send out a Random Shout Out to Matt Martinelli. Congrats to the newest staff member of the Berkshire Eagle...

Another Shout Out to Scott Robinson...just because he's working at "TGI-fuckin'-Fridays waiting on backward ass fucks" and hating every minute of it...but here's a free plug. Check out Scotty's new blog titled "Sexually Inactive" at http://mooninitesunite.blogspot.com

A few weeks ago in church, some woman that my parents knew came up and started talking with them. I had no idea who the hell she was. But anyways, my mom said that I had just graduated from college and the woman asked the standard, "Where are you working?" question, to which I gave my standard, "I'm unemployed" response. She then says to me "Think job. You've gotta find a job." Yeah, and you've gotta find some Mentos for your rank-ass breath. Is that what I went to college for? To find a job when I got out? Ohh shit....I was wayyyyyy off....bitch...

After their Week One loss to the Stormin' Mormons, Notre Dame has gone 3-0. After that first week, I've been drinking Smithwick's Irish Ale every Friday night. I don't care if it's coincidence, I'm gonna keep it up...even after they lose. And yes, their hardest test yet will come against Purdue this weekend. But c'mon...you have no idea how happy I was when they beat Michigan...
As soon as I touch up a few minor technical details, The Year End Video DVD will be ready for production and shipment...

Jack Daniels is lowering the alcoholic content in their famous whiskey from 86 Proof to 80. Is anyone else really offended by this? On a side note, I've been essentially sober since I left Boston, with the exception of the occasional beer or cocktails. Has anyone else noticed the frequency of blog updates has gone way down? Who says there's no connection between alcohol and creative genius? Either that, or because nothing of note ever fucking happens around here...

A new Quizno's sub shop opened up in Clifton Park. That's about as exciting as things get out here. I drove by the other day and there was some poor bastard marooned on the corner of the busy intersection in a large soft drink outfit, holding a Quizno's sign. Probably not the job he had in mind when he applied for something in "advertising"...

I started watching Las Vegas and LAX on Monday nights...I'm sold on Las Vegas, but LAX still has something to prove. Tuesdays are all about Nip/Tuck, and Wednesdays are reserved for Smallville and Rescue Me. Unfortunately, Nip/Tuck and Rescue Me are almost done...this creates an awful void. I might have to actually start watching The OC in November. And seriously, don't knock Smallville until you've seen it...

I've never been excited for an episode of Nip/Tuck like I am for this week...Radochia and I have so many theories as to the identity of The Carver. We might just end up starting our own PI firm...

The other day I was watching High Fidelity and I got thinking...what were my Top 5 Dream Jobs, so long as time and history and money weren't an issue...
(in no particular order...)
1. Playboy Photographer/Columnist, 1990 to Present...
Photograph all the celebs from the mid-90s, experience the Playboy Mansion West in it's most happenin' era, and write your opinions on a wide range of topics from the past 14 years...

2. NY Yankees broadcaster, 1927-1962...
Broadcast 19 World Series victories, see Murderer's Row, the career of Joe DiMaggio, the emergence of Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris's amazing '61 season...

3. Stand-up comedian
Anyone and everyone knows this is a dream of mine...'nuff said...

4. Late Night Television Host
A show, band, and writing team to yourself, not to mention a chance to beat Leno's ass in the ratings...

5. (Still undecided...)

Ever since I left BU, I've lost touch with so many people who still go there. It's like once I left, I became dead to them. Thank you to those people who still have the time to chat...it really means a lot to me...

Special Edition DVDs of The Shawshank Redemption and The Untouchables will be released next week. I'm still waiting for The Great White Hype...

Celebrities who need to go: Will Smith, Jada Pinkett-Smith, and Ashton Kutcher. You're time is up. I'm sorry, but you just don't have anything of value to offer society anymore. Please kindly step off this cliff and allow someone else a chance to make something decent....and please take William Hung and Clay Aiken with you...

But then again, what do I know?

2004 Ryder Cup recap...Worst Loss EVER

I have no witty introduction to this blog, as I'm too pissed off for words. Let's just break it down and start passing out the blame...

The Europeans raped the United States squad 18 1/2 to 9 1/2 to reclaim the Ryder Cup. There was no magic to be cast like at Brookline in '99. Congrats to the Euros for a well played set of matches. The Americans were vacant throughout the entire tournament and they paid the price. This is also the one time every two years where I'll actually root for Tiger Woods. Let's take a look at who fed it and who ate it...

Fuck Hal Sutton, the United States "Captain." He was Captain in title only and should be hogtied and stuck with red-hot pokers, then dragged through the streets of Bloomfield Hills while wild boars rip off his nuts (What? Too much too soon?). Does anyone else think he bears a resemblance to Grady Little? Hal, you fucked up. And you can say all you want how people will scrutinize the Captain's decisions in every Ryder Cup, but you seriously fucked up...

Friday's pairing of Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson was one for the ages. Here was the #2 and #4 golfers in the world getting their asses handed to them in a brown paper bag. Mickelson and Woods have never really gotten along. So, playing in a pairing together as a team might be a bit of a stretch. Therefore, it's somewhat understandable that they were beaten handily by Colin Montgomerie and Padraig Harrington on Friday morning, 2 and 1. Woods and Mickelson were merely co-existing in the first 18 holes. So what does "Pigvomit" Sutton do in the afternoon? He pairs them up again! See, most people would see the morning "experiment" as something of a failure that didn't quite work out as planned, and would subsequently change it. Not to mention the fact that he paired up two of the longest hitters on tour together, where other pairings could have used the distance of Tiger or Phil in the afternoon. After the first two rounds, the US trailed by 5 points. I wish it ended there...

Sutton needed to light a fire under their asses. The Euros played as a team. On every hole they walked down the fairways together, lined up each others putts, and played like teammates. They were like a family on the links. They cheered each other on, offering help and guidance for each stroke in each match.

On Saturday morning...a gleam of light! Hal Sutton abandoned his standard breakfast of retard sandwiches. Mickelson? Benched! Amen! Mickelson fucked up and decided to change clubs two weeks before the Ryder Cup. And it showed all weekend. Hal Sutton grew a pair of balls and benched Golden Boy for the morning matches. The US, again riding the shoulders of the Jay Haas - Chris DiMarco pairing took 2 1/2 of 4 points that morning. Tiger Woods and Chris Riley proved to be the surprise of the morning, winning 4 and 3. Woods and Riley played great golf, and appeared to be having a genuinely good time on the course.

Riley claimed that he was too "emotionally drained" and felt that he could not play in the afternoon matches. "Emotionally drained?" Listen, the Ryder Cup happens once every two years and one could equate this to being the Olympics of Golf. If a manager tells you to go out and pitch the 8th inning after already pitching seven in a must-win situation, you play. Where's the heart? Where's the guts? Sorry Chris, but grow a pair of fucking balls. Woods was then paired with Davis Love III and the pairing eventually lost 4 and 3. No heart. No teamwork.

Sunday was yet another clusterfuck with the US jumping out to an early lead. The trophy was all but in the hands of Europe, who needed a mere 3 points in 12 matches to retain the Cup. Applaud Tiger Woods for jumping out on top of Paul Casey to set the tone and emotionally charge the crowd. Jim Furyk and Chad Campbell finally played some fucking golf for the first time all weekend. Blame assholes like Mickelson, Fred Funk and David Toms for being vacant throughout the matches. And give credit to the Euros for bringing top-notch golf to the tournament, playing as a team instead of 12 individuals.

Needless to say that things continued poorly for the US, and they were subsequently forced to watch the Euros celebrate on the 18th green. I hope it hurt the players to watch that. They were all forced to go back to their luxury suites and private jets and feel shame.

Then leave it to that fat-fuck Roger Maltby to do post-match interviews on the 18th green. He pissed me off earlier in the week asking every player the same question after Friday's first matches: "So, (insert golfer name here), this seems kinda likes shades of The Belfry from '02, huh?" Mix it up a little bit, you Douchebag! Now, with champagne spraying in the air, Maltby asked American players, "What does it feel like to watch the other team celebrate?" Well, Roger, let's see...bend over and I'll show you! Fuck him...shit-ass hack commentator who can't see his feet.

Just like at The Masters, any broadcast journalism major interested in sports can enjoy the packages that Jimmy Roberts cut for the Ryder Cup. Fantastic job writing to pictures, telling the story, and just making it fun to watch...

I just hope that Lee Westwood watches some of the Ryder Cup footage and decides to invest a little of his money on dental surgery. Them chompers is beasts!

European player most likely to be gay: Miguel Angel Jimenez. Get a haircut you freak!

And isn't it about time that we keep Curtis Strange away from the US team at all costs? I mean, it's bad enough that he cost the US the '95 Cup as a player and the '02 Cup as a Captain, but now we've gotta worry about him jinxing the rest? Please, someone take him far, far away.

As far as the teams are decided, I'd like to know how some players make the team. I'm sure there's an explanation if I really wanted to dig deep enough, but I don't. Needless to say, I question how players like Fred Funk and David Toms made the squad. I don't care what you did a year ago, what have you done for me lately? Get players who are playing well at the moment. I wouldn't have minded seeing someone like Todd Hamilton on the team, the player who won the Honda Classic and the British Open in '04. I'm just interested in knowing when the fuck Fred Funk last won something. The 48 year old is considered the "most accurate driver" on tour. But let's face it: he sucked balls. Kenny Perry had 3 wins in '03, but none in '04 and is a Ryder Cup rookie at 44 years old. Sorry, but again, what have you done for me lately? Herb Brooks waited until the last minute to finalize cuts for the 1980 Olympic team, and that seemed to work out pretty damn well. Maybe we should go with that plan.

And isn't it about time that we consider the Fiji Islands as part of America? At least we could snag Vijay Singh. Or how about Mike Weir, the left-hand Canadian?

I suggest that whoever is Captain in '06 had better get on the ball early. Get your team in order and figure out pairings that will work. Brooks didn't have the best players on his team, but those who could play well as a team. Figure out who will play the best as a team with the players who are designated. And it's time for there to be 8 players determined by numbers and 4 Captain's picks. Give the Captain more freedom to choose who will best round out his squad.

But then again, what do I know?

Ramblings...

Welcome back everybody. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

Thanks to everyone for their positive feedback on "The Big Goodbye" and I'm sorry to those of you who started crying while reading it...

Why didn't I bring a porn star to my Senior Prom? Something like that is legendary. What was wrong with me for not thinking of this sooner? And why the hell am I thinking about it now, 4 years later? Instead, I have to plan on doing this for my 20-year reunion...

Everybody is coming out with porn star names. Ryan (The Mad Mexican) is using Dildo T. Baggins. Jay has chosen Pee-Wee Sperman. For a while, Sami was going with "The Loadman," but now he wishes to be known as Fellatio del Toro. I'm still trying to decide on mine, but I think it will be something along the lines of Reginald Longfellow or Bagger Pantsless...

I've always wanted to make people laugh, and after dropping my resume tape off to WTEN, I'm sure that they spent the 10 minutes they were watching it in tears...

I left Boston on a Friday. Dan and Sami had one of the most amazing nights I've heard of the Saturday right after. They began by knocking down a few blue bowls at Cactus Club. The blue bowl taste is indescribable...it's kinda like a boozed up Hawaiian punch, but you can't taste the alcohol. To quote Drunken Sami, "It tastes like blue." Steve bet them that they couldn't drink it in under 15 seconds. They did, followed by a few more. Afterwards, they went to Whiskey's with Matt and Hammer and two well-endowed friends where they drank more. Later, they saw a four-on-four street brawl in the middle of Boylston Street on their way to Daisy Buchanan's. At Daisy's, they saw Jeremy Roenick and his gaggle of hotties just hanging out. And they capped off the night by playing poker until 4 AM. I think on that Saturday, I fell asleep on my couch watching whatever shit was on HBO. I miss Boston and the Goodfellas...

Dan and I were talking about how if we had the means (i.e. shitload of money), we'd buy the Dugout, renovate it, and turn it into a hotspot on campus. If there's one thing that Dan and I know, it's what makes a good bar. Imagine "The Dujeau" being a popular hangout. Plus, we'd never really have to leave BU. Please contact me if you have money for this endeavor, especially if you're not concerned with getting any of it back...

Applying for jobs around home goes against everything I've said about getting out while I'm young. So if I get a TV job back here, all I want out of it is to be recognized by Hooters girls when I go for a beer and wings. I think that's about as good as things could get around here. And once I tell them that I live with my parents...that'll seal the deal...

Best of luck to everyone heading back for another year at BU...

After you graduate from BU, you have a few months and they kill off your e-mail account. The Alumni Department allows you to set up an account for e-mail forwarding, but it's still a bitch to swap all your contacts and transfer any saved messages over, etc. The best part of the Alumni e-mail they sent out was when they say how "most of you will already have a new e-mail address provided by your employer." Yeah, everybody except for the broke-ass, unemployed COM Graduates who can't get jobs because of all the shit-ass COM equipment we were forced to use. Assholes...

All that's left of me at BU now are empty barstools and memories...

Song of the Moment: Dropkick Murphys, "Bastards on Parade," Blackout, 2003
So come all you losers, you bastards and cheats,
Vagrants and barflies out in the street.
Follow the path to salvation, vindication awaits.
We're marching on East Broadway Street tonight...

Today I was watching The Godfather. One of the funniest scenes in that movie has to be the 30 seconds during the wedding where the old man who can barely stand up is singing the song in Italian. No idea what it translates out to, but it's just so damn funny. On a side note, I think that whenever DeVita gets married, it'll look something like that. Except instead of going to the office to ask the Don for a favor, everyone will be sneaking away to play poker...

Fuck the FCC! Stern still rules...

The 2004 Olympics are in the books. A stellar job by the US Men's Basketball team, if I may say so myself. What a bunch of fuckin hacks. They lose to Puerto Rico, and Team Captain (and resident thug/HNIC) Allen Iverson says that it's ok, and they've just gotta regroup. It's ok?? It's the third US Men's Basketball loss in 70 years! It's not just OK. What a Goddamned disgrace. Every member of that team should be shot, castrated and refused entry back into the US. And another thing...it's time to end all the "Dream Team" bullshit. There was one fucking Dream Team, and they played when I was 10 years old. Jordan, Bird, Magic, Barkley...they averaged 33 points more than every other team. And I know that the Euros are playing more hoop now, but still, what a fucking sham. No more "Dream Teams." When I think of a Dream Team, I want to think of Michael Jordan and Larry Bird, not fucking Amare Stoudamire and Dwayne Wade. And by the way, you know that if there wasn't a black guy on the team, it'd be racism...but no white guys? That's just basketball...

There's all this talk around sports about steroids. First it was Major League Baseball, now the Olympics. Why hasn't anyone talked about testing Women's Tennis? I mean, seriously, the Williams sisters are looking manly enough that Eddie Murphy is starting to get interested. But then again, he'll probably just claim he was giving them a ride home...

Rumor has it that Kobe Bryant has asked OJ Simpson to help him find the real rapist...

The Random Shout Out goes to Steve, the owner and operator of T's Pub, who gave me one of those really awesome black polos that all the bartenders wear. I guess he figured that maybe I deserved it, considering that I spent nearly enough to put his daughter through a year of college...

Something I'm getting tired of: political parties. The Democrats hate the Republicans, and the Republicans loathe the Democrats. Everyone is bitching about something. "It's the liberal media." "Peace is patriotic." Everybody shut the fuck up. Quit complaining. Neither side is right. You're both fucking wrong. The sooner that you realize this, the better off you are. Now quit bitching and work together to try and figure something out...

Rads brought up a great idea for the 2008 election: imagine having Morgan Freeman and Samuel L. Jackson as running mates. Seriously, what other candidate wouldn't be scared shitless of Samuel L? "Fuck you, motherfucker! I ain't gotta do shit about Social Security. And no I can't stop yelling, 'cause that's how I talk! Ain't you never seen none of my movies?!"

On a related topic, I think that there needs to be a few Samuel L. Jackson DVD collections released. They could have two sets: his pre-Pulp Fiction "I only play crackheads" movies, and his post-Pulp Fiction "I am a troubled individual, sometimes militant, but trying to do the right thing" movies. One end you get movies like Coming To America, Juice, Menace II Society, and GoodFellas...the other you get Die Hard: With a Vengeance, A Time To Kill, Changing Lanes and 187. And then there's the "Samuel L. Jackson Sci-Fi Collection" with hits like Star Wars I and II, Jurassic Park, and Deep Blue Sea. But you could also have a set with his military-like roles, such as Patriot Games, The Negotiator, XXX, and S.W.A.T. Let's also not forget his Quentin Tarantino films such as Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, and Kill Bill 1 and 2. And I still maintain there needs to be a 2, maybe 3 disc Special Edition of The Great White Hype. That movie deserves a set all to itself...

But then again, what do I know?

Famous Last Words...The Big Goodbye

"All things end badly, or else they wouldn't end..."

It's been said that the four years you spend in college are the best four years of your life. Whoever first said this is absolutely right.

College can be summed up as four years condensed down into one big party. Not just any big party; the best party you've ever seen. The people you've met, the experiences you've shared...simply priceless. So imagine those four years as the best night of your life. But, inevitably, the party has to end. Everyone has to leave at some point. The post-Graduation time that follows is that "morning after." For me, this summer has been the "hangover summer"...the end of the party...the headache and nausea the following morning. And no matter how many aspirin you take or how much Gatorade you drink, you still feel like shit.

There are the optimistic people who tell me that post-Grad life should be an adventure, and that the best is yet to come. No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to share their vision. In fact, I can say that I've been depressed nearly every day since I graduated.

I've made some incredible friends here. I saw BU win the Beanpot twice. I met some celebs, saw countless baseball games, and I partied with Playmates. And through it all, I drank enough to kill a large Asian family.

How does one put four incredible years into words? Please understand that there really is no way for me to recall everything from the past four years. As the saying goes, "I'll cherish the nights I'll never remember with the friends I'll never forget." Through it all, it's been a blast. And I'll do my best to write about those people and times which truly meant the most to me...

What can I say about Sami and Dan? To say that I'll simply miss them would be the definition of understatement. There isn't enough room to write it all. I've known these guys since Day One, and they've been some of the best friends that I've ever had. They weren't even friends; they were my brothers. It's hard for many to believe that Seed and I are so close, being on opposite sides in the Yankees-Red Sox War. We didn't even start off on the right foot. At Orientation in June of 2000, they asked everyone what they hoped to see or do during their four years at BU. When it was Dan's turn, he said, "I want to see the Red Sox win the World Series," to which I blurted out, "Yeah, well good luck with that." As for Sami, well, he turned the words "boner" and "taint" into pieces of our everyday vocabulary. He could always make me laugh, no matter what. I'll never forget that Saturday in September: IHOP, whiskey drinks and baseball, and Krispy Kremes. I'll never forget paintball in the summer of '03. I'm glad that we all had the chance to live together at 49 St. Marys this year. I'll miss the times we'd sit around to watch Nip/Tuck or Family Business. I'll miss the times we played catch or Pepper out on the BU Beach. I'll miss the nights we'd go to the bar and get shitty. I'll truly miss it all...

And then there's Greg and Jon, who helped to complete our "home" at 49 St. Marys. I'll miss boxing and beer pong, the parties and "100 Proof at 1 PM." I'll miss Greg's compulsive spending on kitchen equipment, and I'll miss Jon's obsession with lesbians and pre-teens. I'll miss Patty, the unofficial roommate. And I'll never miss "the Russian" or his filthy Tampon Queen whore of a girlfriend...

I'm going to miss the "family" of Dave "Fletch" Fletcher, Matt Martinelli, and Joe Keiley. Those three guys were as inseparable as brothers. Fletch was the older brother, bold and rebellious. Martinelli was the middle child; quiet and reserved, nearly neglected, until he was drinking and started trouble (see also: "What? I had a dream that I got in a fight with that kid."). Joe Keiley was the responsible younger brother, always having to bail out the aforementioned duo. And even though he didn't live with them, Andrew Hass was a sort of step-brother or cousin to that family. I'll miss these guys. I'll miss our nights spent playing trivia at T's as the team "Gaylord Fletcher." I'll miss a drunken Matt putting Hass into a headlock. And what can you say about Joe Keiley? Looking back, I can't think of a time when he ever said "no" to a trip to T's or the Dugout. He wasn't even necessarily drinking...but he never turned you down...

I'll miss Jimmy C, one of my closest friends since Day One. I'll always remember those times during sophomore year when we'd meet up for a coffee and shoot the shit in the dead of winter. I'll miss Jon Goldstein and Mike Gaines, two of the most creative people I've ever met. I was honored to be a part of one of their film projects, and I know they have nothing but success on the horizon...

I'll miss all my friends from Claflin 7: Jon Lewis, Mo, Aatish, Chaitoff, Dave, Cheryl, Andrew, Adele, Liz and Sara. I'll miss all the bullshitting and just screwing around. I'll miss the nicknames and the immaturity. I'll miss the times that Canner and Graham used to prank-call Jupe. And I'll never forget that even though they had graduated, Liz and Sara came back to town for my knighting...

I'll miss my broadcast classes. There was nothing like spending an afternoon at the Pub with Scott Robinson, Leslie, Seed, Alan and Joe Keiley after a few hours of class. I'll miss the times that Kristin and I would sneak into the edit booth to slip Bailey's into our coffee on Friday mornings. I'll miss Scott's dry sense of humor, as he stated on the last day of class, "You know, statistically speaking, either me or O-Train will probably be dead by our 20-year reunion"...

I'll miss Alan Mac and Hillary, two people I was fortunate enough to meet and become good friends with during my final semester. My only regret is that I had to meet them so late in my collegiate career...

I'll miss Dave Coakly, the bartender at O'Leary's, and arguably the best barman I ever met. O'Leary's was always the best place to sit and have a quiet pint. During my last visit, Dave greeted me with a glass of my favorite Irish whiskey and said, "This one's on the house, for old time's sake"...

I'll miss the BU Pub, the only place where anyone has ever called me "Sir." I'll miss T's Pub, home to the best Lynchburg Lemonades in town. I'll miss Tuesday Night Karoke and the time we brought the house down with "Hey Ya!" I'll miss those 2 AM McDonald's runs with Joe Keiley. And I'll miss all the times that Scotty would "Barge it!" on the way home...

I'll miss Terrier hockey. Some of my best memories were from those games. I'll miss the Beanpot, one of the only times you'll see everyone you know drunk at 5:00 on a Monday. I'll miss Walter Brown Arena, the only real home of the Icedogs. I'll never forget my last home game as a student, a 3-3 tie against UNH. After that game was the first time I actually ever sat in my season ticket seat. I'll miss Goldberg's intensity and knocking back beers with Cardamone and "Degerman." I'll miss Midnight Mania, Craven's cheesehead, the Facepainters and the FREEP guys, the chants and the camaraderie, and all the large beers. I'll miss counting down the start of the "BC Sucks!" chant, "Ole" on the power plays, and "Oh when BU goes marching in." There's nothing like an entire section chanting "M-A-I-N-E...Fuuuuuuuuuuccccck YOU!" I'll miss the banners and the low ceiling of Walter Brown Arena. I'll miss the electricity in the air before a BU-BC matchup, and the raucous atmosphere that followed. I'll miss Jim Prior booming out, "...the teams are ready...sooooooo let's play hockey!" I'll miss Ed Carpenter patrolling the Press Box and his wife's coffee cake. I'll miss road trips to the opposing arenas, and I'll miss calling Jerry York and Dick Umile a "horse's ass." I'll definitely miss Sasquatch, but not the dancing Ethan Clay.

I'll miss roaming the halls of COM. I'll miss my "stop and chats" with Julie H and Jill, who would always brighten my day with a smile. I'll miss seeing Scott Wintner pacing through the halls, stressed out over something in COM. I'll miss my two favorite professors, Thistle and Falla, who made learning fun and taught me more than any other profs. I'll miss the COM Prom...this year's was one of the best times I had in four years...

I'll miss Intramural Softball. We had three great teams with some truly great guys...Brandwein and Thomson, Brochu and D'Onofrio, Rubin and Syed, Leavitt and Coslov. To this day, Trevor Nugent's catch during sophomore year is legendary. Even though we never brought home the Championship, I wouldn't have ever wanted to play for another team. I'll miss that closeness that we had through our six-game seasons, and how we all came together to play as one. And I don't care what anyone says, I'll definitely miss Jupe...at times my nemesis, but always my friend...

I'll miss those times that Hillsdon and DeVita came back up for a weekend...even though Hillsdon was an awful influence at the bar, and DeVita was a curse at hockey games. And I'll miss the times that Spiro made the trip over from Northeastern to hang out with all of us...

I'll miss WTBU and broadcasting "The Perfect Gentleman" with Sami Bull each week. I'll miss Seed's sports updates and the "How's Your News?" intro music. I'll miss all my friends there, people like Amanda and Jennifer, Steve V and Katie K, Ross and Spitzer, KC, DelBarrio and Jay. I'll miss pregaming for the monthly meetings at the Dugout. I'll miss giving my "speeches" at the General Info meetings at the beginning of each semester, and I'll never forget the time that Hillsdon dropped Jupe with a jab during a WTBU Sports meeting. I'll miss Radochia's cameos on the show, where we racked up an unknown number of FCC violations. Each week, there was another STD he'd discuss, and it was there that he first coined the term "meat pocket." I'll miss our dinners at the GSU after the show, with the coffee and donut run afterwards. Somehow, Steve made a comment each week that ruined your appetite...but looking back, it wouldn't be like Steve if he didn't...

I'll miss Hamblin and Blanchette. I'll miss all of their theme parties. Despite the blizzard, their CEOs and Corporate Hoes party was one of my all-time favorites. I'll never forget Spring Break '04, when Hammer and O-Train took on Vegas...."Baby, you don't even know..."

I'll miss Halloween at BU, where nobody was ever allowed into a party dressed as the "generic college student." Brandwein and Thomson always put on an incredible party. There was Seed as Jimmy Dugan, Hillsdon as an Oompa Loompa, Jon Lewis's cow, and Matt and Bill as the Blues Brothers. And a favorite will always remain my costume as Matt Foley, Motivational Speaker...

I'll miss Rodion (aka Borat), Nicole and Margretta, Dave and 'Bama, Nugent and Mark, Katie, Bruckner, Ali and Jenny. Best of luck in the future. And naturally I'll miss Manzi...enough said...

I'll miss all my friends I'm leaving behind who are still in school. I'll miss people like Bill Gioia and Cannarsa, Tia, Whitney and Lindsay, Jess, Alissa and Emily, Tony, Steve M and Dan. Thanks for all the great times and memories. And I'll miss Nicky, who could always make me smile...

I'll miss Tara, who for four years was my closest connection to my hometown. Our trip down Boylston Street on Wednesday night was an incredible time. Thank you for always being there through the good times and all the bad...

I'll miss all the stand-up shows at the Comedy Connection. I'll miss seeing John "Dr. Dirty" Valby whenever he was in town. I'll miss the times that Dan's cousin Billy would come up for a night on the town. I'll miss Marathon Monday and living a few blocks from Fenway Park. I'll miss 49 St. Marys Street, the first place that actually felt like a "home" in Boston.

I'll miss buying booze for minors. It was nice to give back to the system which had treated me so kindly before...

I regret not having a chance to say goodbye to everyone. There are some people I know I'll lose touch with, and those who I'll never see again. And I suppose it's as the saying goes that if you're truly friends with people, you'll never lose sight of each other. But beyond that, it's difficult to think of all the people you'd see on the street and stop to talk with, even if you were late for class or a meeting. I'll miss those random "stop and chats" with all the acquaintences I've made.

To the class of '05 and those who follow: have fun. Live fast and live it up. Go out every chance you get. If you're tired and your friends want to go out, take the trip anyways. You might not want to at the moment, but when you're looking back you'll wish that you did. Those are the times you'll really remember. As Tom Petty once said, "The work never ends, but college does."

I suppose this leads me to the end, though it's incredibly hard to sign off and say goodbye to the places and people that turned Boston into my second home. Through the past four years, I've met some great people, and all I ever wanted was to be the best friend I could to all of you. I hope that this is how you thought of me.

In trying to figure out how exactly to say "goodbye," I am surrounded by the quotes that people much more famous than myself have said. As Dr. Seuss once said, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Ernie Harwell closed out his final broadcast with, "It's time to say 'goodbye' but goodbyes are sad, so I'd much rather say 'hello.' 'Hello' to a new adventure. Rather than 'goodbye,' please allow me to say 'thank you'." Me, I don't know really what to say except this: I don't know where or when I'll see many of you again, but you'll always be in my thoughts and memories. I hope we can keep in touch. I'll see you when we're a little bit older, whenever that may be.

So, thanks for the memory
And strictly entre-nous, darling how are you?
And how are all the little dreams that never did come true?
Awfully glad I met you,
Cheerio, and toodle-oo
And thank you so much. -- Bob Hope

Ramblings...

Welcome back everybody. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

For the past two years, I have correctly predicted the winner of the Miss Teen USA Pageant. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but either way I kinda feel like a pederass. Miss Oregon, the dark horse, took the 2003 contest, while Miss Louisiana claimed victory in 2004. I watched with Sami Bull, while Radochia watched from NJ and fed us his comments via IM. Lowpoints in the contest had to be performances by JC Chasez and Brandy. As Rads pointed out, Weird Al must have been busy...

The high point of the evening had to be the Q&A with the five finalists. This is where Miss Louisiana truly shined. At this point it looked like Miss Hawaii or Miss Nevada could walk away with the title. And then they spoke. When asked who her personal hero was, Miss Nevada said it was her brother, who is currently serving in the Air Force, because, and I quote, "he's putting his line on the life for us." There was about five seconds of silence in my room, followed by the eruption of laughter. Sami Bull started drinking Tanqueray from the bottle. None of us could believe she actually said that. I wish I could say it ended there, but it got worse. In the second round of questioning, Nevada was asked what her favorite book was, to which she replied "The Great Gapspy." We all needed a drink. I think at this point, her parents left the building and went looking to buy her a pair of clear heels. That question took her out of the money, leaving a tight race between Hawaii and Louisiana.

Hawaii ate it during the second round of questioning. When asked what she would like to work with the government to change, she said she wanted to work with the FDA to help get rid of fast food because, "I'm like addicted to fries." That's not gonna win it. Thanks for playing.

Some comments from Mr. Radochia during the Pageant...
-- "that one looks like a retarded Mariah Carey"
-- "they are all hot, watching stuff like this frustrates me because I know that they will be fucking morons and not me all at once like they should"
-- "think she's hiding a huge ass under that large skirt?"

Old School SportsCenter is all the rage! There's nothing like the Kilborn-Patrick duo, who set the precedent for all those who follow. "Crackatoa! East of Java!" "He's not my Vydas. He's not your Vydas. He's Arvydas!" "Jumanji!" ESPN really needs more Kenny Mayne and far less Stuart Scott. I think it's one of two things with Stu: either (1), ESPN is deathly afraid that he will play the race card, or (2) nobody can actually look him in his lazy eye to tell him how much he sucks.

Imagine if they had with Old School Miss Teen USA...how many former contestants would be on the pole?

Phil and Sean came up last weekend for a visit. Shmitty is a gamer, but Phil can't drink for shit.

I finally saw American Wedding and was actually surprised at how funny it was...

Mr. Goldstein returns to Boston for the weekend. Guaranteed good times for all. It's gonna be really hard to say goodbye to him and Gaines...

With only a few minor touch ups left, the Year End Video is nearly complete and the working copy has been extremely popular thus far. Yet no matter how many times Seed and I watch it, we end up getting sad and start drinking...

Song of the moment: Counting Crows, "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby," This Desert Life, 1999
If dreams are like movies, than memories are films about ghosts...

I'm now entering my last week in Boston. To say that I'm "sad" is an understatement. But as they say, "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'"...

The Random Shout Out for the week goes to Mr. Seth Leavitt, COM Grad, Fenway Security extraordinaire. Seth hooked us up with some incredible seats down the first base line for today's matinee against the Devil Rays. Then, we hopped onto the field for a quick photo with him. Thanks again Seth, the "other" DH on Team WTBU. Best of luck, kid...

"Yo! Yo Rey! Rey! Rey Sanchez!"
"Yo, what's up man?"
"Not much, man! Good job!" -- Dan's encounter with Rey Sanchez after the game. Rey was just happy that someone recognized him. Don Zimmer was less than cordial however...

"Hey Tino! Can I get a picture? Thanks man! Big fan, big fan!" -- my encounter with Tino Martinez after the game. Class act all the way...

Lenny Clarke was definitely shitfaced when he was in the NESN booth with Denis Leary during Wednesday night's Sox game...

Hopefully the Madden Curse will strike again this year. Ray Lewis needs to go. Aside from the fact that he's a card-carrying Blood, he does his stupid fucking Riverdance-esque jig before every game. Fuck him...maybe he'll stab someone else...

Goodfellas: Special Edition comes out on DVD this week. No more flipping the dvd over in the middle of the movie!

UPS sucks. "Go Brown" is what their commercials say. Yeah, brown because they're shit. Two days in a row they fucked up the delivery of my Marx Brothers DVD set. I paid for 2nd Day Air shipping, which meant the package was supposed to arrive on Monday. It didn't come until Wednesday. TWICE they put it on the wrong truck. Once is just an unfortunate accident. Twice is just a total fuck up. I got a call from one of the managers at the local UPS center on Tuesday night saying that it was again placed on the wrong truck. She said she had it in her hand and asked if I would like to come and pick it up. UPS is a delivery service. I shouldn't have to come and pick up my package. You fucked up...you figure it out.

But then again, what do I know?

The 2004 Beanpot...six months later...

It's been six months since the Beanpot debacle where those BC assholes won and destroyed what could have been the one saving grace to the disastrous '03-'04 hockey season. At the time, I was writing my weekly column for the WTBU Sports website and wrote about the game afterwards. I never published the column. Now, I present to you my finished column on the 2004 Beanpot...

The Last Cut is the Deepest

How did it come to this? 8-12-6 heading down the final stretch of the season...and a second place finish at the annual Beanpot Tournament.

Before my freshman year, BU had won 23 of 48 Beanpots, having claimed the last six in a row. In fact, 1998 was the only year in that stretch where the Terriers had won by a mere goal (a 2-1 OT win over the wicked smahties). If you told me during my freshman orientation that the Icedogs would lose two of the next four, I'd have told you that you were crazy.

I spent Monday night drowning my sorrows with some fellow members of Terrier Nation at the Dugout on Commonwealth Ave., the site of so many celebrations during the second Monday in February. Staring down at the empty pint glasses and pitchers on the table, I sat and wondered to myself, "How did this ever happen? What went wrong this season?" and perhaps most of all, "Why did this all happen during my senior year?" Nobody spoke. It was just silence. What was there to say? Nick Cardamone broke the silence. "We came in as losers and we're going out as losers." It didn't justify the loss, but it seemed to make sense.

But this was THE BEANPOT. This was the tournament known throughout college hockey circles as "The BU Invitational." It was OUR tournament, 25 times over. And the Eagles swept in and stole it away.

Granted, BU hockey is not having a strong season. What they're having doesn't even justify being called a season at all. That much is obvious to anyone. It's a rare occurrence for the hoops team to be a more apparent NCAA lock than the Icedogs. But a win at the Beanpot could have erased the hurt from this season. It could have validated some of the heartbreak. I could have forgotten about those three losses to BC. I could forget about the 8-4 Black Bear Massacre. Hell, I could have even forgotten about 2001.

What's worse is the new tradition those clowns at the FleetCenter started this year. A banner hangs from the rafters of the House that Jeremy Jacobs built which advertises the Beanpot Tournament. After 51 prior tourneys, they decided this year to attach a banner underneath to honor the reigning Beanpot champion. After all, 52 seems like a nice round number to start a new tradition. It's not like the 50th Tournament (a 5-0 BU victory over N'Eastern) would have been more appropriate or anything. Seeing that banner which read "Boston College: 2004 Champions"...it made me want to throw up. It was like someone just dumped a container of Morton's salt onto the fresh knife wound in my heart. It just sucked.

What's left to look forward to? My last home game at Walter Brown Arena among the Section 8'ers? A possible berth in the Hockey East playoffs? There's a slight chance that BC and BU could face each other in the first round, and it'd be so sweet for a shot at redemption. But it'd never be the same as the Beanpot.

I just hope that the Class of '04 was an aberration, an "ebb" in the "ebb and flow" of BU hockey. I hope the Class of '07 experienced their only Beanpot loss. In my four years it comes down to this: two BC wins, or two BU losses. Either way you look at it, that's two more than there should be.

Ramblings...

Welcome back everybody. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

It's always interesting when you read about one of your high school classmates in the newspaper. Such was the case last week, when Joe Linderman was arrested for DWI. Not only did he crash into another car while intoxicated, but he got out, flipped his car back over and fled the scene...only to lead the police on a brief chase, which ended in him crashing his car again. Luckily nobody was killed. So let's see...DWI, hit and run, and resisting arrest...not sure if he's gonna make it to the reunion. But then again, I don't think he ever graduated either...

Two people I didn't miss while I was home: The Russian, and his Tampon Queen whore.

The FBI raided a mosque in Albany, NY last night after two members were arrested as part of a sting operation. These two fuckers were trying to buy a shoulder-fired missile from someone who turned out to be an undercover agent. It was part of their plot to kill a Pakistani diplomat in New York City. I guess firing a rocket really takes out the guesswork...don't need to be 100% accurate with one of those. The Times Union had some photos on their website of one of the Mosque members talking with the press. If your Mosque is believed to be part of a terror cell, do you think it's really that wise to wear a t-shirt that says, "Fear Allah"?

The Comments portion of these Blogs has been fixed. Now you can comment without requiring a Blogger account. So comment!

Tuesday night, Plisko locked his keys inside his van, and we waited with him for an hour and a half until a locksmith came to open it. As if that didn't suck enough, the shady locksmith told Joe that only his father was covered by Triple-A, and as a result it would cost him $45 cash to open up the van. Triple-A immediately went to the top of Joe's Shit List, ahead of the "kid from HS who will remain nameless" that spit in his face in 10th grade. Yes, he still holds a grudge...

I can't wait for Old School SportsCenter with the return of Craig Kilborn-Dan Patrick duo for one night only. The best SportsCenter duo nowadays is Steve Berthiaume and Neil Everett. They're not Kilborn and Patrick, or even Olbermann and Patrick for that matter, but hey, at least it's not Stu Scott. Someone needs to tell Stumanji to shut the fuck up and speak English instead of that "Playa Jive" bullshit that he slings around. If Tie Domi gets a penalty for cross-checking, I don't see that as "hatin' on" the opposition. Leave your Ebonics at home, asshole...

Seed is officially my "c'mon, let's get just one more drink" friend. Everybody has one...

Has anyone seen Dave Foley on Celebrity Poker Showdown? He looks like shit and his jokes are awful. I can't figure out who sucks more...him, or the old host Kevin Pollack? On a side note, there's a movement to make Poker an event at the Olympic Games. Hamblin was going to spearhead the movement, but couldn't drag himself away from ultimatebet.com to actually do the legwork...

As part of his internship with the Howard Stern Show, Jay had to run out to a liquor store and buy Jack Daniels for Artie Lange at 8:30 AM on Wednesday. As part of her PR firm internship, Nicky has to spend a weekend in San Diego lobbying against a referendum on the November ballot. How did I miss out on this stuff?

The other night at T's, some girl was singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart" just like in Old School. It was one of the coolest things I've seen/heard...

Opie and Anthony will be featured on XM Satellite Radio this fall. Their station will play their show on repeat for 24 hours, and it will cost listeners an extra $2 per month. Imagine if Stern goes XM after his contract is up (or the FCC gets so out of control that they force him off the air). Play his show from that morning a few times, and then fill the rest of the time with "Best Of..." shows. Pure genius.

When I was in the 2nd grade, the Weekly Reader said that there would be flying cars in the year 2000. So far we've come up with pre-cooked bacon, cellphones and the internet. I think they were full of shit...

This week's Random Shout Out goes to my good friend, Mr. Scott Robinson, who heads home for good this Saturday. An invaluable piece to my TV Newsroom and Enterprise Reporting classes, Scott was always a lot of fun to work with. Ever a consummate drinking buddy, he'd risk life and limb to barge a couple of bushes and shrubs on a walk home. Good luck, Scotty...gonna miss you, Kid...

The Wonder Years really needs to be released on DVD. Less than two weeks until the release of Goodfellas: Special Edition. My Marx Brothers DVD Collection will arrive on Monday...as Rads would say, that's "more gooder"...

But then again, what do I know?

The Small Town Curse

"Well I was born in a small town,
And I live in a small town.
Prob'ly die in a small town,
Oh, those small communities...

All my friends are so small town.
My parents live in the same small town.
My job is so small town,
Provides little opportunity..."

When I was at my Freshman Orientation at BU in June of 2000, I met Dave Bresler from Clifton Park. He had just graduated from Shenendahowa High School and would be spending the next four years in COM along with me. We had a class together that year and used to talk about stuff back home, happenings and places and people. He didn't go home all that often, and he told me this: "We've got to get out while we can. It (the capital district) sucks you in. If you don't get out now, you'll never get out." It took me a little while, but I can now see exactly what he was talking about: the Small Town Curse.

Glenville, NY is my hometown. It's small. It's quiet. It's the antithesis of Boston. But it's my home. It's where I grew up. I have a lot of memories from there. But it's not where I want to spend the rest of my life.

Being home last week and driving around, I was welcomed by all those hometown sights and sounds. Coming over the Western Gateway Bridge, I was embraced by the familiarity of the Glen Sanders Mansion and Jumpin' Jacks. O'Leary's and Scotia Cinema were just as I had left them. And Wal-Mart has just as many woodchucks as usual...maybe more.

But all this familiarity can be dangerous. It creates a whirlpool effect of sorts that draws you back in and swishes you around. It seems both benevolent and inviting. It's a matter of convenience, in that you already know your surroundings and neighbors. It draws you in, as if to say, "Welcome back, we all missed you" while sneering under it's breath "We all knew you couldn't stay away for long." Metaphorically speaking, it's like the town of Spectre in Big Fish. All the locals ask Edward Bloom why he would ever leave such a warm, inviting place. Perhaps Spectre is the prime example of the Small Town Curse.

You see, back home in that small town, you feel safe. You know everybody when you walk into the grocery store, and you know the quickest route from A to B. You know when the local farm stand starts selling ears of corn, that the bars close much too early, and that each summer seems a little shorter than the last.

What you don't know is how blinding this all is. Days blend into months which blend into years. You don't see how realize time flies. With each year that passes, it gets more and more difficult to leave because of everything you've built there: a career, a reputation, a circle of friends, perhaps even a family. And I understand that the older you get, the quicker time seems to fly, no matter where you go. But it just seems different in that small town.

I have friends and people that I know will never leave my hometown. And for them, that's just fine. It worked out for my parents and some of my other relatives. It has worked out for my neighbors. But when I turned 18, I headed off to Boston for a change of scenery, maybe destined for greater things. And now, as I stand in my waning days out here, I can't help but feel a sense of fright in that I, too, will succumb to the Small Town Curse. I spent four years trying to figure out how get away, only to have to return unemployed and beaten. In going back home, I feel that I've lost the battle. I feel that I'm saying to everyone that ever told me "You can't do it" that they were right.

Glenville, NY will always hold a spot in my heart because of the time I spent there and the memories that were forged. But for me, it's not where I want to spend the rest of my life. I'm skeptical to apply for a broadcast job there, in fear that I'll never get out. I don't want to turn into an Ethan Frome. I'm still looking to avoid the Small Town Curse.

Maybe some of you out there feel the same way...

Ramblings...

Welcome back everyone. Thanks again for your support. Let's see who fed it and who ate it this week...

I'm spending the week back home in lovely Upstate, NY. With the exception of Saratoga (which is lively as ever this time of year), this town is as fucking dead as my liver. Maybe more.

Fuck Fogg's Automotive. After having one of our cars in the shop for two days, they call me this morning and say that I need to bring it back in because the brainless dipshit working on it found a washer that he thought fell out. They told me it would only take a half-hour, tops. I bring the car there and sit in the waiting room for an hour and a half. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, they were off by an hour. If they were a hospital, and this jagoff was a surgeon, the patient would be fucking dead. The least they could have done was tell me what was going on (evidently when he put the washer on, something fucked up with the engine) so I wasn't sitting there waiting and reading shitty cartoons in the paper like "Grand Avenue" or "Stone Soup." And they didn't even have good magazines. To top it all off, this dipshit had the Service Manager apologize, rather than do it himself. What a fucking mess.

Saddam Hussein has a prostate infection, according to the Associated Press. I guess it turns out he wasn't dickless after all...

I was up at the track again this morning to pick up a couple John Velazquez bobbleheads. Again, more "Americana." And by the way...I don't care if you're 80 years old and don't give a shit anymore. That doesn't excuse you from wearing deodorant. You can't buy a stick of Right Guard, but you can afford those USA Golds you're smoking.

Dennis Miller Live needs to be released on DVD. Only one month until the Special Edition of Goodfellas.

I went out on Saturday night with some friends from home. They can't drink for shit.

In less than one month, I'll have to move back home. Seeing as how being around family makes me even more miserable, this needs to become my motivation for finding a job...

Happy 21st Birthday to Jessica Jones.

Insomniac might be one of the funniest shows on television. It's a shame that Dave Attell was never more than a writer on SNL. The Tuesday-Wednesday tandem of Nip/Tuck and Rescue Me on F/X is incredible. That, combined with Family Business might fill the void in my life until the next season of The Sopranos comes out in 2006.

The other day I was watching the new HBO show Entourage. Can Jeremy Piven play any role except for the token smarmy, sleazy dirtbag? Just look at Old School and One Crazy Summer. And yes, I understand that he was in PCU where he played a college student (who happened to look like he was in his 30s), and he was supposed to be the cool guy, but still...

Fuck the FCC...Stern rules! I'm definitely jealous of Jay and his internship with the King of All Media...

I'm convinced that Radochia, Sami Bull and I could get our own radio show on XM Satellite radio...

Ricky Williams decided to retire from the NFL. At least it didn't happen after the Fantasy Draft. You knew something was wrong when people were pulling his dreadlocks to tackle him. Hey, we all knew that Ricky didn't really "agree" with the league's whole drug policy thing anyways...

The Giants gave Eli Manning a six-year, $54 Million deal. It's the Giants, so I'm not sure which odds are better: Eli leads Giants to the Super Bowl a few years down the road, or Eli turns into the next Ryan Leaf or Todd Marinovich?

Who is the more arrogant, obnoxious NFL coach: Mike Martz or Brian Billick? Seriously, which one would you rather kick in the balls?

The other day, I had to go to the local farm/country store to pick up a pie for dessert. After deciding on the pecan, I went to the register, only to meet one of the most miserable old women ever. She looked like she was about a day before dead, or maybe she died and nobody told her. She sat there looking at me, as if I was supposed to say something. So I said, "This one looked too good to pass up." (What the hell else am I going to say? "Hey, what was it like to date Herbert Hoover?") She snaps back, "They're all good!" So once she finishes figuring out the cash register, I take the pie and say, "Have a nice day," to which she replies, "I will if it ever cools off." OK, first off, it's the dead of summer. Secondly, you work on a farm. And third, you spent the first 90 years of your life waiting for them to even invent air conditioning. Suck it up...

The Year End Video is nearly complete...

The Random Shout Out goes to Liz Smallcomb this week. Liz was up in Boston a few weeks ago to see everyone, and it was cool as always to hang out with her. Liz was on my floor Freshman year and brought up this question: "Remember back in Freshman year when you didn't drink?" Scary, scary thought...

I can't help but wonder how converting to Islam is going to fuck with Dave Chappelle's comedy. What's next? John Valby goes Mormon?

But then again, what do I know?

Aaaaaaand they're off at Saratoga!

Today began the 136th season of live racing at Saratoga Race Track, and also marked my 5th consecutive Opening Day. Booze, women, gambling and cigars...how can you lose?

I got to the track shortly after the gates opened and parked in the Preferred lot. This was my first adventure. Preferred parking used to be the blacktop lot across the street. But no...that's now the "Clubhouse VIP" lot. Preferred is the grass/dirt/mud lot next to it. It's essentially the same as the free parking, but it's closer. Still the same muck and shit to trudge through, just less of it. I will say this: the illegal alien working in the lot was very friendly.

Rather than pay the usual $3 for Grandstand admission, I opted for the $5 Clubhouse. It has always been my impression and understanding that in order to go to the Clubhouse, one needed to be dressed "nicer" than that for the Grandstand. No shorts, collared shirts, etc. Evidently I was mistaken, as it became apparent that any schmuck who could collect an extra $2 in cans could get in. Let's put it this way: a shirt and shoes are required for the Grandstand. I thought that some people in the Clubhouse would have at least put on a clean shirt if they weren't going to wear a collar. With every trip to the track, I get to see more and more pieces of what I like to call "Americana."

They call Saratoga "The Graveyard of Favorites" because of all the longshots throughout history who have won there. Upset beat Man O'War in the 1919 Sanford Stakes. Even the legendary Secretariat couldn't win at the Spa. So they say bet the longshot and avoid the chalk. Lemme tell you this: the longshot will win, unless you fucking bet it. You bet the longshot and the favorite will set a track record. It's a lose-lose situation. Understand this when you walk in.

Walk in knowing what you're going to bet. Buy The Daily Racing Form the day before and read it, study it, and handicap it. Why? Simple. Once you start drinking overpriced Bloody Marys, you won't be able to see straight enough to read the post performances and the rest of the tiny print. Not to mention you'll be even more distracted by the plethora of semi-legal coeds walking around...

Random celebrity sightings: Wellington Mara (owner, NY football Giants), and Rod Stewart. Rod Stewart was wearing a blue seersucker suit with a pink shirt and pink tie. He's probably one of three people in the world who could actually pull it off, one of the remaining two being Steve Radochia.

Random celebrity encounter: Jimmy Fallon. Spoke with him in the Clubhouse after the ninth race. Really nice guy, very goofy. He went to the College of St. Rose, the same place Nick went. After Nick passed away, Jimmy put on a show for the students there in his memory. And when it was all said and done, he refused to accept the money that was promised to him as an appearance fee. I'll always admire him for that.

I saw a young kid walking around in a "BC Superfan" t-shirt. I really felt that he needed to get his ass kicked. It's not that I wanted to do it, but I felt I owed it to him.

I walked past D. Wayne Lukas's private Clubhouse box. There was some kid, my age or slightly older, sitting there with him with a phenomenal blonde to his right. This once again proves that money talks. I found myself continually asking, "Why wasn't I born rich instead of handsome?"

Some random BU sightings: Elliot DeSanto and Kevin Hoeltschi. Saw Elliot in the Clubhouse with some family. He made the trip up from Jersey, spotted me a beer and a pick in the 5th race. Kevin was with his family walking in while I was heading to my car to drop off my umbrella. Always a good time whenever you see Guido. And on a side note, what a bullshit weather forecast that was. There were clouds...which all burned off...and it got hot as balls.

Looking back, I should've asked Jimmy Fallon if I could just walk around with him and take whoever he rejected...

Usually they always have the young, non-legal girls working the different food and beverage stands throughout the course. Purely by chance, I'm sure, the really attractive ones are all working in the Clubhouse. Looking back, it somehow makes sense. But why the hell didn't I figure this out before? I'm definitely losing it...

All in all, Opening Day was just as fun as I remember. It wasn't until the sixth race when I hit an exacta for $30 that I actually cashed a ticket, but that didn't matter. It was Opening Day. And I'd be hard pressed to think of anyplace else that I would have rather been.

Happy 22nd, Nick...

There are 3 events in my life that I will always remember where I was when they occurred: the September 11th attacks, Aaron Boone's Game 7 home run, and the death of my best friend. The third is the only one I think about every day.

Today would have been Nick's 22nd birthday, so I thought it only fitting to write a little about him here. This morning, I was talking with my friend Kathryn and we agreed that you can't sum up Nick in one favorite story or moment. He wasn't like that. He wasn't all one thing or another. It was a bunch of small jokes and stories and moments and actions that build and create his memory.

There were all the times that he would make you smile because he knew you were sad. And there were the times he made you laugh for no reason at all. The other day I was thinking about finals week during our freshman year of high school. One afternoon, I was trying to call Nick and see how his Earth Science final had gone. There was no answer at the other end. I tried a few more time, but still, no answer. When I finally got in touch with him late that night, I said, "Where the hell were you today?" He said to me, "I was here, but I was afraid to answer the phone. I thought it was Mrs. Farina telling me that I had to take Earth Science all over again."

I remember all the card shows we used to attend. I remember all those summer days spent at Saratoga, and I remember his luck. I remember our golf and tennis matches with bragging rights on the line. I remember our last semester of senior year, taking that Godawful marketing class. I remember all the times he pissed off the librarians. I remember the Senior Prom...to this day, that picture of Nick, Cliff and myself hangs over my desk. I remember all the times that he could make me laugh and smile, by burying his own pride and being the clown.

I regret not having a chance to see him during the summer of '01. I feel sad knowing that I was never really able to say "goodbye." But I feel a tremendous sense of honor and pride knowing that I was able to serve as a pallbearer and deliver his eulogy.

I've learned that it's futile to ask why Nick had to go. There is no answer to the question "Why not take me instead of him?" no matter how many times I ask. But I still do, hoping that one day it'll all make sense.

Nick, I wish you were still around so we could follow that vision you had: you and me, fat and 40 years old, bringing our own families to Yankee Stadium. I wish you were around to make the days brighter and so all of your friends could see you again. I wish you were still here to help me through the tough times as only you could, and impart that sage wisdom that I took for granted.

You were young and at the top of your game when you were taken away. I hope that you have a Happy 22nd, wherever you might be. I hope that someday your family and all of your friends will be able to find some solace. I hope that I can live a good enough life to someday see you again when it's all said and done.

I miss you, Kid. Take care of yourself up there...

Ramblings...

Good evening everybody.  Thanks for coming out tonight.  Let's take a look at what's going on...  
 
Last Wednesday, Dan, Sami and I played some wiffleball HR Derby at the BU Beach.  I had to pull out midway through the contest with a right shoulder and middle back injury.  It's sad when you reach the day that you think you've torn a rotator cuff playing wiffleball.  If I was a thoroughbred, they'd have shot me by now.
 
Speaking of horses, one week from today marks Opening Day for the Saratoga Race Track.  With all the bullshit of the DNC around Boston, I plan on being home for my 5th consecutive Opening Day.  It's bittersweet thinking this could be my last time walking in on that first Wednesday of the six-week meet, as I'm supposed to be entering the work force, probably someplace far from home, never again to hear Tom Durkin start the first race at 1:05 with an "Annnnnnnnnnnnnd they're off at Saratoga!"
 
Within 4 days, I saw both Terry Francona and Howie Day at the bar.  I didn't speak with either of them.  There's really nothing else to say about this.
 
Moving along, I read Jay Mohr's new book Gasping for Airtime about his two seasons spent on Saturday Night Live.  Although I've never really been a huge fan of his comedy, Mohr tells some really interesting stories about the shit he had to go through on SNL.  Some of it sounds like sour grapes...many of you may not even realize that he was on the show.  That's because he really wasn't too much.  But there's some great stories about the cast members:  Chris Farley shitting out Mohr's 17th floor office window...Adam Sandler's story from his days on Mr. Belvedere, when Mr. B sat down on his balls and had to be carried out on a stretcher...Rob Schneider inspecting all of his sushi...all the band rehearsals he saw...there's really some great stuff in there.  This book shows not only how he was able to get on SNL, but the inner workings and schedule of how the show writing and planning runs.  And you get to hear about Mr. Belvedere sitting on his balls (I'm sorry for the double mention, but that story had me laughing so hard I was crying).
 
Two comedians who need to go:  Bill Maher and Wanda Sykes.  Whoever said these people were funny should be fucking shot.  And no more Jamie Foxx hosting the ESPYs.  If I hear him sing about Serena fucking Williams one more time, heads are gonna roll.  Look, we all get it.  It wasn't funny the first time.  Move the fuck along.
 
I came to the conclusion a long time ago that too many Major League Baseball teams have too many fucking uniforms.  Chicago and New York have a home and an away.  That's it.  All these teams need fucking "alternate" uniforms, and then a "Sunday" uniform, and all this bullshit.  Pick a fucking color and stick with it.  The Mets have 5 unis.  5!  I understand that your catcher is a fudgepacker and all, but please, there's no need for 5 fucking uniforms.  And when the hell did all these teams find the need for black uniforms.  The other day, I saw the Mariners wearing black jerseys.  I know it makes you look tough and all, and if you have red in your team colors, you get all the money from the Bloods buying up some merch, but please!  One home and one away.  That's it!  You don't like your team colors or logo, tough shit!  Not my problem.  Nolan Ryan hated pitching for the Astros in the 80s, but that didn't stop him from pitching one of his 7 no hitters, or leading the league in strikeouts or making the All-Star team multiple times.  No more "alternate" uniforms!  It's over.  Thanks for playing.
 
For as much (or as little) as I watch the Red Sox, I still hate Kevin fucking Millar.  He needs to go.  At least most Sox fans are willing to stop in-fighting about Nomar long enough to admit that he blows.  He's a $3 Million cheerleader who needs to get Bison Dele'd real fast.  As much as I'm going to miss Boston and all my friends out here when I leave next month, if he starts the "Cowboy Up" bullshit again, it's going to make it a little easier.  Fuck off Kevin, and take your KFC with you.......ass clown.
 
On Sunday, I saw the series premiere of "The Days" on ABC.  Each episode is a 24-hr span of the family's life, as told by their cynical teenage son (you can immediately see why I was drawn to it).  The father is a lawyer at a large law firm and the mother has gone back to work for an advertising agency.  His older sister is a senior in HS, a homecoming queen and star of the soccer team.  His younger brother is a boy genius going to private school.  They really set up the series in this first episode.  The father quits his job and the mother finds out she's pregnant.  The same day, the sister finds out that she got knocked up, and the younger brother has a panic attack in the middle of his test at school.  And the narrator gets into a fight with the sister's boyfriend and is suspended for two days.  They've pretty much left themselves a lot of stories to run with here.  On a side note, "Nip/Tuck" remains as one of the greatest shows on television.  And I'm looking forward to the series premiere of "Rescue Me" with Denis Leary on FX tonight.
 
The Random Shout Out goes to Nicky Gillett in San Fran.  Even though she roots for the Giants, she still hates Barry Bonds and will admit in any baseball debate that he is a douchebag.  She's been spending her summer working 12 hrs a day, interning with a PR Agency and teaching little bastards how to swim.  That in itself is admirable.
 
Happy Birthday to Bill Gioia, Alan McNamara and Laura Hirshfield.
 
Lewis Black's latest "Back in Black" from "The Daily Show" all about the Republican and Democratic National Conventions is hysterical.  Check it out on the Comedy Central website.
 
In Steve Radochia's list of Top 5 musicians he'd sleep with, Sheryl Crow made the list over Jessica Simpson.  This is something I will never be able to comprehend.
 
The other day, Sami and I were extremely bored and played LIFE.  Sami's career was "Entertainer," which he immediately interpreted to mean "Porn Star."  A LIFE tile said that he wrote a bestseller, which Sami claimed was his autobiography called "The Loadman Cometh."  Yup, these are my roommates... 

The Great White Hype really needs to be released on DVD. 

The Year-End Video, encompassing 4 years at BU, is still in the works. 

Blazing Saddles was being shown on ABC Family the other day.  Apart from bleeping out all the obscenities and racial slurs, they also completely muted the campfire farting scene.  I'm not really sure why farts need to be bleeped?  But then again, the FCC has their foot so far up Howard Stern's ass for lesser things.  It's been 30 years since Blazing Saddles was made, and since there's no original scripts in Hollywood, I thought it'd be funny to cast that movie for a remake.  Chris Rock would be great as Bart, and maybe even Billy Bob Thornton as Jim (the Waco Kid).  But if they're bleeping farts on TV, there's no way that movie would ever be made.  The MPAA would shit a brick. 

But then again, what do I know?

All-Star Game musings...

The 2004 All-Star Game is in the books with the American League victorious. May I begin by saying that the whole "This one counts" aspect is total bullshit and a pathetic way to ensure that the game never ends in a tie. The real way to make sure that never happens is to kick Bud Selig's ass out the door in favor of a real commish.

The Crew, composed of Scott Robinson, Sami Bull, Seed and myself, took the trip down to T's Pub on Comm Ave for the action. T's is usually a good place to catch the action, but they were severely understaffed for a Tuesday night. How does one define "understaffed"? Try ONE waitress for the entire place. They do have their upsides however, by catering to the college budget. Bud drafts for $2.25 means that you can get fucked up for less money.

During the school year, they also have a deal on food. $2.50 for a cheeseburger and fries with all the fixins. Seed decided to shine on dinner in favor of the cheeseburger combo. The look on his face when the waitress informed him that they didn't have that anymore...well, it can only be likened to someone who just got kicked in the balls. Needless to say, he was surly from that point forward.

MasterCard had their promotion where some schlub who can't throw a baseball has a chance to win $1 Million. He is "coached" by Nolan Ryan to try and complete this task. What is Nolan Ryan going to tell some clown who has never thrown a ball before in his life? "Hurry up and try not to make an ass out of yourself"? It's pointless. And how do they find an American man every year who can't throw a baseball? I've never seen anyone who can actually throw in one of these contests. As it turns out, this clown actually did it. He got 5 or 6 balls through the hole in the tarp at home plate in 30 seconds. Mind you, during the entire 30 seconds, Seed is screaming that the hole did not represent a true strike zone. And this is before he had any beer...

I'll say this about the All-Star Game: I loved the ad campaign. The whole Blues Brothers theme was great. I couldn't figure out why they didn't do it last year though. After all, the All-Star Game was in Chicago last year...which is where Blues Brothers takes place.

It was nice to see Muhammed Ali out there. Even with the Parkinson's Disease, he can still rope-a-dope.

Fox continued their shameless self-fellatio, self-promotion nonsense. Was nobody else available to sing "The National Anthem" and "God Bless America" besides American Idol finalists? Fuck that! Wasn't there any native Texan who could have sang? And another thing, from now on anyone who sings "The Star Spangled Banner" is not allowed to fuck with it. No more ad-libbing or throwing scales in there or dragging it out or any of that shit. Just sing the fucking song. It's not our fault that your 15 minutes of fame are almost over. Whitney Houston understood this before she was all coked up when she sang it at Super Bowl XXV. She sang arguably the greatest rendition at any sports venue. So we're all on the same page...better talent, preferably not connected to Fox, and no more fucking with the song. No more of this Fox self-promo bullshit either. Where were Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie? I was expecting them to show up to do whatever the hell it is that they do. I was waiting for Ron Silver to come out at some point just to say, "His father is the District Attorney!" Lord knows we all heard that too much during the 2003 post-season. And while I'm at it...fuck Jeanne Zelasko and Kevin Kennedy. They suck too.

Roger Clemens gave up 6 runs in the first inning, and then is brought back out later in the game to receive an award. As Seed pointed out, it resembled a golden dildo. I'm sure he really wanted to come back out after allowing the AL to hit for the cycle in one inning.

Two people separated at birth: Gary Sheffield and BU basketball captain Matt Turner.

A new feature to the Blog is the Random Shout Out. This was started a few years ago by my HS friend Sean Smith who just felt like giving out some random props. This Random Shout Out goes out to "The Scandal" himself, Mr. Randy Brochu. We saw Randy along with Russell Rubin last night at T's, and a good time was had by all. Debating
sports and rehashing stories never gets old.

The Award for Most Drunk goes to Sami Bull.

One final note to cap this all off...Major League Baseball needs to end interleague play. It's done. Thanks for playing. It used to be that AL and NL teams only squared off during the World Series. And that was good. But baseball always finds ways to fuck up good things. AL East and Central teams only have one home-and-away series against each other this season, and that's bullshit. End the interleague play.

But then again, what do I know?