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The senseless rantings of a demented man living a sad, pathetic, meager existence
Monday, October 25, 2004
Move over Mary-Kate and Ashley...
Before Mary-Kate and Ashley were toughing it out at NYU in their million-dollar condo, there was Yanni and the Eck. Dennis Eckersley is a Hall of Fame relief pitcher who played from 1975 to 1998. Yanni is a musican who inspired John Tesh to leave Entertainment Tonight to make shitty music.
The Eck kicked ass on the mound while Yanni sounded like ass on the stage.
Throughout the 1990s, I always thought Yanni and Dennis Eckersley were separated at birth. Both men were born in 1954 and sported hair longer than was fashionably acceptable, but that is where the simarilities ended. In the end, the Eck was a kick-ass ball player while Yanni was the Moby of our parents' generation.
Speaking of Yanni, I have yet to met fan of his. Who is the typical Yanni fan and most importantly, why? I see Yanni fans in the same light as the viewing demographic of "The Nanny". That's to say that I don't think these people exist....cayce.
Before Mary-Kate and Ashley were toughing it out at NYU in their million-dollar condo, there was Yanni and the Eck. Dennis Eckersley is a Hall of Fame relief pitcher who played from 1975 to 1998. Yanni is a musican who inspired John Tesh to leave Entertainment Tonight to make shitty music.
The Eck kicked ass on the mound while Yanni sounded like ass on the stage.
Throughout the 1990s, I always thought Yanni and Dennis Eckersley were separated at birth. Both men were born in 1954 and sported hair longer than was fashionably acceptable, but that is where the simarilities ended. In the end, the Eck was a kick-ass ball player while Yanni was the Moby of our parents' generation.
Speaking of Yanni, I have yet to met fan of his. Who is the typical Yanni fan and most importantly, why? I see Yanni fans in the same light as the viewing demographic of "The Nanny". That's to say that I don't think these people exist....cayce.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
A man among men....
When television was actually good in the 1980s with “The A-Team”, “T.J. Hooker”, and “Simon & Simon”, one show stood out from the rest, but has been relatively ignored throughout last 17 years. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of another show that came close to kicking as much ass. Every Wednesday night, my brother and I would religiously watch “Tour of Duty” on CBS and witness the American foreign policy of containment being practiced on a weekly basis. For those of you who are not familiar with this cinematic masterpiece, “Tour of Duty” followed an Army battalion through their tour of duty (hence the name of the show) in the jungles of Vietnam. Although we liked and respected the main characters throughout the series, our personal favorite was Marcus Taylor.
Marcus Taylor, with his kick-ass stare-down
I really couldn’t tell you why Marcus Taylor was our favorite character. He was just cool, and he sometimes said things that made absolutely no sense, such as talking about “the better sons of Marcus Taylor”. But nevertheless, he was a deity among men. He could not be killed. I can’t tell you how many times he was shot, but survived. He was like freaking Rasputin. In fact, Marcus Taylor kicked so much ass that even people with the real life name of Marcus Taylor couldn’t live up to the legacy of this fictional character. There was a Michigan State point guard by the name of Marcus Taylor, and although he was instrumental in getting the Spartans to the NCAA tournament through his two years, he could not match the expectations that were levied by the name. Marcus Taylor made Miguel A. Nunez’s career. Nunez can go on a fifteen state killing spree, commit countless acts of bestiality in public, and star in thirty snuff films, he will still be revered as the man who brought Marcus Taylor to life. Even shitty, ill-conceived movies such as ”Juwanna Mann” can’t take Marcus Taylor down. Nunez himself has created a personal website as a lasting testament to Marcus Taylor’s contribution to his career. You should give it a visit and pay homage…cayce.
When television was actually good in the 1980s with “The A-Team”, “T.J. Hooker”, and “Simon & Simon”, one show stood out from the rest, but has been relatively ignored throughout last 17 years. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of another show that came close to kicking as much ass. Every Wednesday night, my brother and I would religiously watch “Tour of Duty” on CBS and witness the American foreign policy of containment being practiced on a weekly basis. For those of you who are not familiar with this cinematic masterpiece, “Tour of Duty” followed an Army battalion through their tour of duty (hence the name of the show) in the jungles of Vietnam. Although we liked and respected the main characters throughout the series, our personal favorite was Marcus Taylor.
Marcus Taylor, with his kick-ass stare-down
I really couldn’t tell you why Marcus Taylor was our favorite character. He was just cool, and he sometimes said things that made absolutely no sense, such as talking about “the better sons of Marcus Taylor”. But nevertheless, he was a deity among men. He could not be killed. I can’t tell you how many times he was shot, but survived. He was like freaking Rasputin. In fact, Marcus Taylor kicked so much ass that even people with the real life name of Marcus Taylor couldn’t live up to the legacy of this fictional character. There was a Michigan State point guard by the name of Marcus Taylor, and although he was instrumental in getting the Spartans to the NCAA tournament through his two years, he could not match the expectations that were levied by the name. Marcus Taylor made Miguel A. Nunez’s career. Nunez can go on a fifteen state killing spree, commit countless acts of bestiality in public, and star in thirty snuff films, he will still be revered as the man who brought Marcus Taylor to life. Even shitty, ill-conceived movies such as ”Juwanna Mann” can’t take Marcus Taylor down. Nunez himself has created a personal website as a lasting testament to Marcus Taylor’s contribution to his career. You should give it a visit and pay homage…cayce.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
A Human Rights Award from Gadhafi?
According to a story on CNN.com, Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez was awarded the annual Moammar Gadhafi human rights prize. Am I missing something here? Being honored with a human rights prize by Gadhafi is like receiving the John Rocker Award for GLBT and Multicultural Awareness.
Gadhafi or Bob Dylan?
According to a story on CNN.com, Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez was awarded the annual Moammar Gadhafi human rights prize. Am I missing something here? Being honored with a human rights prize by Gadhafi is like receiving the John Rocker Award for GLBT and Multicultural Awareness.
Gadhafi or Bob Dylan?
Astros 5, Braves 6
I went to Game 4 of the NL Divisional Playoffs between the Astros and the Braves this weekend. Interesting enough, the Astros have erected a temporary banner celebrating their NL wild card championship.
A banner for the "Wild Card Champs", I was wrong...
I went to Game 4 of the NL Divisional Playoffs between the Astros and the Braves this weekend. Interesting enough, the Astros have erected a temporary banner celebrating their NL wild card championship.
A banner for the "Wild Card Champs", I was wrong...
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Houston Astros: Wild Card Champs?
First of all, I'll get into Miguel Nunez in another post, but upon the news of the Astros attaining a playoff berth, the Astros Organization is promoting and whoring the notion that they are now the "Wild Card Champs". Now, the term 'wild card champ' has always annoyed me. What exactly are you a champ of? Winning a wild card berth is more functional than prestigous. Why add the word "champ" to it? It's not like teams start the season saying, "ok guys, let's go out there, settle for second in our division, and get that wild card championship!".
Mediocre champs: Go Astros
At the end of the season, will the Astros post a wild card pennant along their championship row? Will the "2004 Wild Card Champs" take its rightful place along the 7 divisional pennants in Astro lore? I would guess not. Lost in the truth of it all, the moniker, "wild card champ", is nothing more than an artifacial promotion to generate excitement and apparel sales. Tomorrow some website or sports store will be selling "Houston Astros: 2004 Wild Card Champs" t-shirts and caps. And we, the public, will be ever to eager to buy, buy, buy. Had the Astros done what they were suppose to do with Clemens and company, we wouldn't have to hold our collective breaths for this one shining moment.
This is not to discount what they have done though. The team has had to fight through many obstacles, some of them being their own fan base. The "Astro fans" are the biggest bandwagoning troupe of assclowns that I have ever come across. They are a band of haters that will ride the teams for every loss and will completely abandon ship with things go down south. They rode the Rockets throughout their existence before the two champions in 1994 and 1995. From my observation, Houston sports fans have absolutely no loyalty whatsoever. They treat the Texans somewhat differently, but that is a different blog entry.
The Astros organization should just be happy with making the playoffs. Champs? We'll see.....cayce.
First of all, I'll get into Miguel Nunez in another post, but upon the news of the Astros attaining a playoff berth, the Astros Organization is promoting and whoring the notion that they are now the "Wild Card Champs". Now, the term 'wild card champ' has always annoyed me. What exactly are you a champ of? Winning a wild card berth is more functional than prestigous. Why add the word "champ" to it? It's not like teams start the season saying, "ok guys, let's go out there, settle for second in our division, and get that wild card championship!".
Mediocre champs: Go Astros
At the end of the season, will the Astros post a wild card pennant along their championship row? Will the "2004 Wild Card Champs" take its rightful place along the 7 divisional pennants in Astro lore? I would guess not. Lost in the truth of it all, the moniker, "wild card champ", is nothing more than an artifacial promotion to generate excitement and apparel sales. Tomorrow some website or sports store will be selling "Houston Astros: 2004 Wild Card Champs" t-shirts and caps. And we, the public, will be ever to eager to buy, buy, buy. Had the Astros done what they were suppose to do with Clemens and company, we wouldn't have to hold our collective breaths for this one shining moment.
This is not to discount what they have done though. The team has had to fight through many obstacles, some of them being their own fan base. The "Astro fans" are the biggest bandwagoning troupe of assclowns that I have ever come across. They are a band of haters that will ride the teams for every loss and will completely abandon ship with things go down south. They rode the Rockets throughout their existence before the two champions in 1994 and 1995. From my observation, Houston sports fans have absolutely no loyalty whatsoever. They treat the Texans somewhat differently, but that is a different blog entry.
The Astros organization should just be happy with making the playoffs. Champs? We'll see.....cayce.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Miguel A. Nuñez, please save us
There was a time where being a celebrity meant something. Movie stars, rock musicians, politicians, and athletics all enjoyed media attention through some accomplishment or cultural contribution to popular culture. However the quality of pop culture has been in rapid decline in a manner in which Judd Nelson’s career could fully appreciate.
Now we have faux celebrities like Paris Hilton, Omarosa, Federline, and any woman with the last name of Simpson.
First on the list: Paris Hilton. I can’t stand her. She is known for basically two things: manufacturing a sex tape and being the offspring of Rick Hilton. That’s it. Her hair isn’t even real. Apparently she wears a wig of some sort...to hide her real head of hair which probably resembles the ass follicles of a stray dog. Prowl78’s fiancée and my future sister-in-law correctly summed up Hilton in one word: ‘skank’.
Hilton: known for a sex tape, being the spawn of the hotel jugganaut, sporting fake hair/eye color, and not much else
Omarosa wishes that she had a second justification for her ‘celebrity’. Apparently being on a reality show is the only item on this woman’s resume. The woman also has the nerve to promote herself by only one name. As far as I am concerned, the only woman who can justifiably be referred to as one name is Charo. Cuchi, cuchi.
Kevin Federline: A summa cum laude graduate of the Chris Judd School of Martial Capitalization. This former dancer impregnates his girlfriend, leaves girlfriend, shacks up and marries Britney Spears. Case closed. Despite this, this parasite has made the cover of People magazine....twice.
The Simpson Girls: whenever people wonder why George Bush is President, I think of only two words: Ashlee Simpson. Apparently, the Simpson family has found another talentless cash cow to milk. Nowadays, to climb the title of the hottest selling album in America, one doesn’t even have to produce coherent music. An off-key voice accompanied with uniformed noise in the background is all that are needed to sell records. Give me the seal-clubbing shrinks of Celine Dion any day of the week.
In all, I honestly think we are a doomed nation. Perhaps the religious right is correct; this country is going to hell and there is only one entity who can save it....Miguel A. Nuñez Jr.
I'll elaborate later.....cayce
There was a time where being a celebrity meant something. Movie stars, rock musicians, politicians, and athletics all enjoyed media attention through some accomplishment or cultural contribution to popular culture. However the quality of pop culture has been in rapid decline in a manner in which Judd Nelson’s career could fully appreciate.
Now we have faux celebrities like Paris Hilton, Omarosa, Federline, and any woman with the last name of Simpson.
First on the list: Paris Hilton. I can’t stand her. She is known for basically two things: manufacturing a sex tape and being the offspring of Rick Hilton. That’s it. Her hair isn’t even real. Apparently she wears a wig of some sort...to hide her real head of hair which probably resembles the ass follicles of a stray dog. Prowl78’s fiancée and my future sister-in-law correctly summed up Hilton in one word: ‘skank’.
Hilton: known for a sex tape, being the spawn of the hotel jugganaut, sporting fake hair/eye color, and not much else
Omarosa wishes that she had a second justification for her ‘celebrity’. Apparently being on a reality show is the only item on this woman’s resume. The woman also has the nerve to promote herself by only one name. As far as I am concerned, the only woman who can justifiably be referred to as one name is Charo. Cuchi, cuchi.
Kevin Federline: A summa cum laude graduate of the Chris Judd School of Martial Capitalization. This former dancer impregnates his girlfriend, leaves girlfriend, shacks up and marries Britney Spears. Case closed. Despite this, this parasite has made the cover of People magazine....twice.
The Simpson Girls: whenever people wonder why George Bush is President, I think of only two words: Ashlee Simpson. Apparently, the Simpson family has found another talentless cash cow to milk. Nowadays, to climb the title of the hottest selling album in America, one doesn’t even have to produce coherent music. An off-key voice accompanied with uniformed noise in the background is all that are needed to sell records. Give me the seal-clubbing shrinks of Celine Dion any day of the week.
In all, I honestly think we are a doomed nation. Perhaps the religious right is correct; this country is going to hell and there is only one entity who can save it....Miguel A. Nuñez Jr.
I'll elaborate later.....cayce
Death and Mayhem
Sadly enough, I spent too much time with my pets, although not by choice. Nearly on a daily basis, I spent most of my working days writing and editing chapters of my dissertation which is slowly corroding the very fabric of my being. Day in and day out, I muddle through words, trying to understand the words that I wrote the day before, wondering whether there will ever be an end to it all. As a matter of fact, every time that I open Microsoft Word every morning, I remind myself that there is indeed a Johnsonesque "light at the end of the tunnel". However, throughout these dismal days of toil, I do garner some sadistic amusement in the spaghetti-western justice that my cat dispense on a daily basis on unwanted guest within our house.
Geckos are in no short supply around our house. There are more geckos within a 50 meter radius of our home than there are pop-up ads within the entire web. An unfortunate few make their way inside the house where our cat eagerly greets them by petting their soft bodies with her claws and sharp teeth. Our cat, Zoey, like most cats that I have known/owned/kicked, doesn't subscribe to the doctrine of the quick kill. They like to play and torture the object of their affection.
Perhaps the last image a gecko sees
I have always viewed Zoey as Charon, the ferry-conductor of the River Styx, gleefully escorting the geckos to the next world. However, when these orderly executions occur in my presence, my conscience compels me to rescue geckos from the clutch of Zoey and certain death.
Although I would like to think that I have rescued all of the geckos that have ever placed themselves in our house, I know that Zoey's ferry service is a 24 hour operation. There probably have been instances where she has killed a gecko or two and hid the evidence.
At any rate, rescuing helpless geckos from impeding doom has at least one underlying similiarity to writing and editing. I do everything that I can in both endeavors everyday, with the full knowledge that may have missed something at the end of the day. And I am fine with that for the time being.
more to come later....cayce
Sadly enough, I spent too much time with my pets, although not by choice. Nearly on a daily basis, I spent most of my working days writing and editing chapters of my dissertation which is slowly corroding the very fabric of my being. Day in and day out, I muddle through words, trying to understand the words that I wrote the day before, wondering whether there will ever be an end to it all. As a matter of fact, every time that I open Microsoft Word every morning, I remind myself that there is indeed a Johnsonesque "light at the end of the tunnel". However, throughout these dismal days of toil, I do garner some sadistic amusement in the spaghetti-western justice that my cat dispense on a daily basis on unwanted guest within our house.
Geckos are in no short supply around our house. There are more geckos within a 50 meter radius of our home than there are pop-up ads within the entire web. An unfortunate few make their way inside the house where our cat eagerly greets them by petting their soft bodies with her claws and sharp teeth. Our cat, Zoey, like most cats that I have known/owned/kicked, doesn't subscribe to the doctrine of the quick kill. They like to play and torture the object of their affection.
Perhaps the last image a gecko sees
I have always viewed Zoey as Charon, the ferry-conductor of the River Styx, gleefully escorting the geckos to the next world. However, when these orderly executions occur in my presence, my conscience compels me to rescue geckos from the clutch of Zoey and certain death.
Although I would like to think that I have rescued all of the geckos that have ever placed themselves in our house, I know that Zoey's ferry service is a 24 hour operation. There probably have been instances where she has killed a gecko or two and hid the evidence.
At any rate, rescuing helpless geckos from impeding doom has at least one underlying similiarity to writing and editing. I do everything that I can in both endeavors everyday, with the full knowledge that may have missed something at the end of the day. And I am fine with that for the time being.
more to come later....cayce
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Prowl78 Knows Best
Initially, this blog was dedicated to mock a dear friend of mine, but since then, I have repented and abandoned my evil ways. It was emotionally draining, day in, day out, to ridicule Buzzworthy at every turn. Ultimately, it became too much for me. Instead, I have left the role of cyber-villian to my brother, Prowl.
At any rate, I am beginning on a new slate. new era. Instead of focusing my energies on riding one person, I'm going to expand my cynical hatred to the entire world. However, I'm only half-kidding. Allow me to explain...
As of right now, I'm working on my doctoral dissertation. The subject of this academic trainwreck is not important. In fact, don't bother asking about it because I am sick of writing and thinking about it. At any rate, writing the dissertation is the #1 culprit of sucking the life of me, my wife being a very close second. (Of course, I am kidding.)
At any rate, if you are reading this,
Initially, this blog was dedicated to mock a dear friend of mine, but since then, I have repented and abandoned my evil ways. It was emotionally draining, day in, day out, to ridicule Buzzworthy at every turn. Ultimately, it became too much for me. Instead, I have left the role of cyber-villian to my brother, Prowl.
At any rate, I am beginning on a new slate. new era. Instead of focusing my energies on riding one person, I'm going to expand my cynical hatred to the entire world. However, I'm only half-kidding. Allow me to explain...
As of right now, I'm working on my doctoral dissertation. The subject of this academic trainwreck is not important. In fact, don't bother asking about it because I am sick of writing and thinking about it. At any rate, writing the dissertation is the #1 culprit of sucking the life of me, my wife being a very close second. (Of course, I am kidding.)
At any rate, if you are reading this,
- I have either shared this blog with you, or
- you followed the link over here from the 'six degrees of Buzzworthy', or
- you have no life and surfing blogs on a Friday night.
At either rate, allow me to share some caveats about this blog. First, I'll try to be moderately entertaining, either on purpose or on accident. Second, I'll try not to be offensive, but there are no guarantees. Third, I'm not going to pay too much attention to my grammar while writing my entries...my editing energy is needed else where. Fourth, my entries will trickle in unpredictably. I really don't have the time to constantly update this blog, but talking to house plants and desks gets considerably old...very quickly.
So, in the end, if I had to sum up this blog in one word, it would be "therapy".
More to come later...cayce
