Lookin' Good Beast

I was just thinking about our reunion; I have no idea if there will be one or not, and I have no idea if we'll go (we'll as in you and me, Ryan). If there is, what's the likely that Nick Myers uses to the below routine? I'd say about as good as Brian Gallagher wearing John's flannel or Tim Barnes showing up, not for the reunion, but for work.

Keeping up with My Giant

Yesterday I had the good fortune to sit courtside while LeBron and Co. ripped my heart out. While the game was a borderline stomach punch, to sit that close in a crucial playoff game versus LBJ was incredible. Here are some picture highlights:

Our Seats:

LeBron's head grazing the rim during warm-ups:

One dude that loved my Baltimore Bullets shirt...?

Wes Unseld (sitting on the right). Dude ate three bags of peanuts and never drank anything. That's how Wes rolls.

Just when we thought we'd had our fill of Bullets celebs out walks Gheorge "My Giant" Muresan

My camera was two seconds to late to capture the Wes-Gheorge embrace. I'm furious at myself. Basically I just threw away millions of dollars in poster money.

Oh, there was a game too; LBJ and Tawn chat while Mike Brown (little Roker) tells the ref about his post-it note playbook that reads "Give it to LeBron, LeBron do good stuff, thank LeBron for the opportunity, ask brother about tomorrow's weather"

Whiskey!

Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey. Brownest of the brown liquors... source of inner warmth in a cold, cold world… destroyer of brain cells… sleep-inducing nectar of the gods, how I love thee.

I'm usually a Maker's man (OK, that's a bit of a lie. I'm really more of a "whatever's nearby and free" man), but I think I have a new favorite: Elijah Craig. I know the name sounds more like that of a troubled NFL running back than a delicious bourbon, but trust me on this: Elijah Craig is the truth. It's the bourbon equivalent of Jules Winnfield's wallet: the label should say Bad Motherfucker on it. It's smooth, yet tough. Rugged, yet inviting. Cuddly, yet pointy in parts. Plus, it's relatively cheap. I think my bottle cost me around $20. And it's named for the dude who allegedly invented bourbon. Buy a bottle. It'll getcha drunk!

Get Rich or Ty Tryon

I saw a sign today offering a $500 reward for information that leads to the capture of anyone who sprays graffiti on a public building.

Then, I read that a New Yorker was recently fined $300 for a "graffiti-related" offense.

$300 fine? $500 reward? That's called a $200 profit where I'm from, son.

So who's with me? I'll spray-paint the building. You turn me in. I pay the fine. You collect the $500. We split the resulting $200 70/30. I get $140 for my troubles. You get $60 for being a good and noble citizen.

* It should be noted that my "tag" is an elaborate cuneiform symbol that, when translated, means "Urdu" in Spanish and "Spanish" in Urdu. I'm just saying that it might take some time for me to paint this, is all. So I might get caught before we can cash in. Keep this in mind.

** It should also be noted that fining someone for chalk drawings is fucking insane.

*** It should be further noted to any authorities or potential future employers that I am totally kidding about all of this. Besides, $200 is small-time. If I'm in a swindlin' mood, it's Ponzi Schemes all the way for me.

Skins to sure up line with Soda Popinski

Just when I really want to hate the Cowboys even more, they go and sign Adam Jones.

They're an Underwood and a Phillips away from making me marginally indifferent towards Dallas. And that scares the shit out of me.

Not really a name... more of a thick soup

I know we've discussed this before, but you know what's fucking good? Stew.

Cosi has this Tomato Basil Aurora "soup" that's really just thick tomato sauce served with their bread. As a man whose diet primarily revolves around sauces and what can be dipped into said sauces, I cannot recommend this "soup" highly enough.

Hip-Hop Recommendations from a White Guy

The Name: Aesop Rock

Sample Tracks: Daylight, Bent Life, Skip Town, Run the Numbers (off the El-P album “I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead”, which won the 2007 Ryan P. Smith Award for Best Album Title)

Why You Should Listen to Him: Beats so ill they should be quarantined. Lyrics that read like excerpts from the diary of Syd Barrett. New York-based rapper Aesop Rock may be wacky but he's never wack, and he consistently produces some of the best tracks in the business. And in a business where you can't throw a mix tape across a crowded club without hitting at least a few dozen A&R people, bloggers, and promoters, you're probably asking yourself, why haven't I heard of this guy? Well, it is an act of will to be this talented and yet so little-known. He intentionally flies under the radar, I think. He writes lyrics like:

Yo...put one up shackle me, not clean logic procreation,
I did not invent the wheel, I was the crooked spoke adjacent.
While the triple sixer's lassos keep angels roped in the basement,
I walk the block with a halo and a stick poking your patience.

(from "Daylight")

which hardly endear him to the mainstream. He would probably roll his eyes at this label, but he's a card-carrying member of the hip-hop "underground," that nebulous world populated by talented misfits who lack either the desire or the money-driven motivation to poke their heads above ground and embrace the world of bitches and bling.

But I like hip-hop for the same reason why I like The Simpsons. It rewards you for paying attention. And Aesop Rock's multi-layered beats and stream-of-consciousness lyrics do exactly that. Enjoy.

Decidedly Asian Commercial of the Day

Eric Gonna Love These

Historically Black College Shout-out

Art Magic Shell, yes that Art Shell went to UMES!? Yup, dude was a Seahawk. I'm mad I didn't know this, but glad I now do.

In a related story my sister was a Hotel Management major and was trying to qualify for in-state tuition at UMass because no school in Maryland offered her major. Everything looked to be good, and my parents were ecstatic about saving $10 grand a year only to find out at the very last minute that Princess Anne U recently started this program. Bottomline: I'm more than a little disappointed Jill didn't choose the MEAC.

Today's Lesser Known Good Music

Josh Ritter is a somewhat known folkrock artist that has seen some decent commercial success, even playing on Letterman. I've heard him described as part Springsteen, part Leonard Cohen. In fact this description, or something similar to it, is used so often that when I first actually saw the dude I was shocked at how un-swarthy he was. For the record, I think he's much closer to Bruce than Times Square's favorite bard.

Anyway, I've been a fan of his for a couple of years now and suggest you (um, Ryan) get on the trolley.

Two great songs which are emblematic of Ritter are "To the Dogs or Whoever" and "Girl in the War". Just kick ass lyrics, great melodies, and some fucking tough instrumentals (particularly Dogs).

Way Down in the Hole

News comes that Sheila Dixon may not have been legally sworn in as mayor of Baltimore this past December. This snafu has created problems including holding up the city's bond issuance.

"Greatest City in America"? Yet another example that you earn that title.

BAGGACK!!!

Four Score and Seven Beers Ago...

firejoemorgan.com does this kind of thing better than anyone (and I'll readily acknowledge that I'm not even a homeless man's Ken Tremendous). But I thought, "why limit the FJM model to baseball writing? Why not apply it to other stuff? Why not FJM the hell out of, say, the Gettysburg Address?" And so I did. (*Note: I realize that this is only a loose variation of the FJM model).

Four score and seven years ago

Or six touchdowns and an extra point ago. Or a short-handed goal and five rouges ago. Or a hogshead and a hectare ago.

our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation,

Mexico

conceived in Liberty,

Wait, not Mexico

and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Except for the indians. We robbed those suckers blind! You'd be amazed what they're willing to give up for a bag of fucking beads. Beads. Waterfront property. Beads. Acres of fertile farmland. Beads. Their own goddamn women. Beads, son!

Now we are engaged in a great civil war

[I envision Abe using air quotes around the word "great" and rolling his eyes after saying it].

testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war.

In 150 years, this will be a Stuckey's.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field,

The Stuckey's portion.

as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.

To one day eat at Stuckey's in peace. To order their "broasted" chicken without fear. To have the freedom to add onion rings if they so desire.

It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground.

Until Stuckey's gets the ol' a-ok from the liquor board [Abe winks and points to the Liquor Control Board member in the crowd. "This guy knows what I'm talkin' about!" he says]. Then we can hollow the shit out this motherfucker.

The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.

Wait, dead men struggled here? God d*mn, this battle was worse than I thought. [looks over at aide standing near the podium. "Motherfucker, you didn't tell me that we got dead dudes fighting in our army now! Why the hell am I just learning this now? We got motherfucking ghosts in our army?!? Ghosts.... damn"].

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

Hahahahaha, I'm just fuckin' with ya'll. This speech will be LONG remembered. They'll be reciting this shit for centuries. And you know what? I wrote this shit in the carriage on my way over here. I wrote this shit after drinking ten beers and doing six lines of snuff off the dead body of a Confederate soldier. And this speech is STILL better than that "nothing to fear but fear itself" bullshit you'll be hearing in a few decades.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

Honestly, I don't know what any of this means, my fellow Americans. I think it was eleven beers. But it sounds noble, right?

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Again, except for the indians. We have an endless supply of beads. Just saying.

Surreal Cereal

In my ongoing effort to make otherwise healthy foods less-healthful (and, therefore, more-delicious), I've started adding chocolate-covered peanuts to my Cheerios in the morning. You should try it. It's delightful.

Reggie with the Meatballs

So I was getting my lunch today at this place I usually go that has salads, sandwiches, and pasta, and I’m ordering my salad when I see the woman behind the counter making a “pasta” order.

But instead of spaghetti and meatballs it was just meatballs. There must’ve been 25-30 meatballs in this giant bowl.

Then she calls out the orderer’s name, “Reggie? Reggie? Reggie with the Meatballs?”.

I was expecting this guy, but sadly it was just a pudgy Indian dude (clearly in IT- probably a great golfer, huge ass).