The Rogue Stitch

2009-03-10T22:20:00.000-07:00

From the Appellate Division Courthouse:

The Stitch lives, ladies and gentlemen--or should I say lives on as a bona fide esquire instead of a would-be counselor at law.

It took 4 months to find out that I passed the bar. It took 4 more to be formally admitted in New York's 1st Department. A pox on the bureaucracy! Utterly ridiculous. I've heard conflicting numbers, but there are anywhere between 60,000 and 80,000 attorneys in Manhattan. That's like what? 1 out of every 20 people on the street? Your mom didn't go to college; apparently she went to law school. (She was a gunner too.)

It's amusing to see that my last post came right before the test. How things have changed since then. Gone are the proverbial dark clouds that had be blind. New job, new home, new outlook. You can bet your sweet asses, though, that I miss having Fridays off in the winter like no other. 30 days last year at mountain, and I'm still looking for my first tracks of the season. My knees thank me, but I've opened myself up to general taunts on par with those spewed forth by certain Frenchmen looking to fetchez la vache. At least I have an East Coast spring to which I can look forward. Tuckerman's anyone?

Btw, it was Chuck Norris' 69th birthday today. Friends tried to throw him a party, but decided against it--knowing full well that Chuck always has the element of surprise on his side.

2008-07-28T15:21:00.000-07:00

From the end of the road:

So tomorrow is the first day of the bar exam. Suffice it to say, I'm tired, gaunt, paler than usual (if that's possible) , sick of sitting in the same chair--reading the same notes--for twelve hours a day, and I can't get "Everybody Hurts" by REM out of my head. Yes, 'tis true what the Upstart Crow said of misery while bombasting out his blank verse: it acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows.

At least I can say that there is no longer a point to studying. I am as prepared as I'll ever be (notwithstanding the likelihood that I'll be taking this thing again in February).

Unfortunately, it only recently came to my attention that the bar review racket....um, I mean course, left the one question I had unanswered.

Where the f*&% is Blackacre?

Wish me luck, people. And if you're the praying type, well throw one of those in there too. I appreciate it.

2008-07-25T11:10:00.000-07:00

From Carnegie-Mellon:

If you've been following the headlines today, you might already know that Prof. Randy Pausch has passed away at the age of 47 from pancreatic cancer.

Without saying much more, I hope you all can take an hour out of your day to watch his last lecture (provided below).

It's about achieving your childhood dreams.

2008-07-21T14:32:00.000-07:00

From a testing center near you:

Eight days and counting 'til the bar exam, and I for one must say that this state of concurrent dread and excitement is wholly repugnant. The headaches are constant, I haven't had a drink in weeks, sleeping has all of a sudden become an arduous task, and it's f*&%ing hot on the east coast. But soon it will be all over.

Hopefully.

At least failing would put me in the good company of JFK, Jr. and HRC, aka the Hill-dogs, aka Not-President, aka the Junior Senator from New York, Hillary Clinton. Yup, she failed the D.C. Bar, but passed in Arkansas. Who would have thought the latter to be an easier ordeal, hmmm?

But enough about failing and stereotypes about the south. I'm over it for the moment.

Some of you may remember I post I did a while back about Snakes McGee and Lacey Boa, a couple of regular jet-setting reptiles who took a Parisian vacation during the whole Snakes on a Plane brouhaha. Their exploits accounted for the highest traffic that the Rogue Stitch has ever seen, thanks to a strategic link placed on the New Line Cinema webpage for the film.

Well, to get to the point, I came across this practice torts question in what seems like a never-ending preparation process for the bar. Hope you enjoy.

Philips, a law enforcement official, was transporting a prisoner on a plane from Hawaii to California to testify in a criminal case. Unknown to those on the plane, an assassin hired to kill the prisoner had bribed an airport baggage handler to sneak a timed-release crate of poisonous snakes into the cargo hold of the plane. Once the crate was triggered to open, the snakes were able to slither into the passener compartment through gaps in the conduits between the crago hold and the passenger compartment. In the ensuing panic caused by the snakes, Philips was struck in the head by a fire extinguisher that another passenger threw at a snake, and suffered a severe concussion.

Philips filed suit against numerous parties, including Jackson, who designed the conduit system on that type of plane. At trial, evidence established that the design for the conduit system that Jackson used has been rejected in the industry because of the danger of pressure loss between the cargo hold and the passenger compartment. An industry-approved design that Jackson could have used would have kept the snakes from getting into the passenger compartment of the plane.

As between Philips and Jackson, which party is likely to prevail?

(A) Philips, because Jackson is strictly liable for designing the conduit system of the plane.

(B) Philips, because of the high degree of care owed to passengers of a common carrier.

(D) Jackson, because Philip was injured by another passenger rather than the snake.

2008-07-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

From the Great Depression:

When I hear the words "bank run," I tend to think of scene quite similar to the one shown above--or at very least the ending to Mary Poppins (which then reminds me of a man with a wooden leg named Smith, but that's neither here nor there). I usually don't associate the phenomenon with this modern age or time.

As it turns out, however, bank runs are still within the realm of possibility in the 21st century. Just take a look at poor IndyMac. The Feds sezied control of the bank this week, citing a massive run on deposits resulting in the second-largest bank failure in U.S. history.

Oh shit.

Hopefully, if you're not worried right now about the economy, you're studying for the bar and completely preoccupied. (And from today's date you should infer that I'm procrastinating by way of this post.) Otherwise, you might want to take a hard look at what's going on around us.

Of course, the irony here is that bank runs sort of operate on drawing attention to precarious financial situations, and the snowball effect that such alarm brings.

Just ask good ol' Chuck Schumer (D-NY) about how this works. He was the one who complained to the FDIC & the OTS about IndyMac's troubles two weeks ago. Since then, depositors have withdrawn $1.3 billion from the bank. Smooth, Chuck, smooth. You gotta love his response, though, to the situation. He blamed the failure on "poor and loose lending practices," as well as insufficient regulation, and told the OTS chairman that he should be "spending less time playing politics and more time doing his job." Snap.

Well, I'm sure Chuck didn't help with the matter. Now I'm just waiting for him to challenge the 21st Amendment and really send us back 90 years. You can bet your sweet ass that I'd turn bootlegger in a heartbeat if Prohibition were to rear its ugly, puritanical head once again.

How much fun would that be?

Postscript. The John Nemeth Bank was organized in 1917. In 1920, it changed its name to the American Union Bank (pictured above). The Superintendent of Banks closed it down on August 5th, 1931.

2008-07-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

From the frozen shores of Lake Placid:

I was a mere two months old when Herb Brooks' collegiate squad defeated the mighty Soviets, but I remember it like it was only yesterday....

The year was 1980, and it was a great year in which to be born. (Or maybe not, depending on how you look at things, particularly the impending eight-year reign of Ronald Reagan and the twenty-eight year reign of Robert Mugabe.) MCMLXXX to all you Roman folk out there. Mount Saint Helens blew up. The Empire Strikes Back came out. The Islanders won their first Stanley Cup. And little Azaria Chamberlain disappeared. Who? Um, you remember the catchphrase, "The dingoes ate my baby!" She was the baby--eaten long before Fat Bastard took a liking to the other, other white meat.

So, I bring up the Miracle on Ice because on this day--the Fourth of July--the day on which the Continental Congress dared to adopt the Declaration of Indpendence and challenge the tyranny of the English crown, we should take a moment to reflect on some of our nation's finer moments.

And also because our good friends over at Gorilla vs. Bear have a grat idea: List your favorite record from every year you've been alive.

I admit, it's not an easy task. I'd even say that it's rather imperfect, based on standards of changing tastes, past & present inclinations, and personal experiences. Plus, there were so many good tracks along the way that simply did not have a solid album to really back them up. They, of course, lose out to records I like pretty much the entire way through. This chart should help, btw. Feel free to leave you own list in the comments. Here we go:

1980: Zenyatta Mondatta, The Police
1981: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, AC/DC
1982: Thriller, Michael Jackson
1983: Speaking in Tongues, Talking Heads
1984: Stop Making Sense, Talking Heads
1985: Brothers in Arms, Dire Straits
1986: Graceland, Paul Simon
1987: Appetite for Destruction, Guns n' Roses
1988: ... And Justice for All, Metallica
1989: Stone Cold Rhymin', Young MC
1990: People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, A Tribe Called Quest
1991: Nevermind, Nirvana
1992: Blind Melon, Blind Melon
1993: Vs., Pearl Jam
1994: [The Blue Album], Weezer
1995: Frogstomp, Silverchair
1996: No Doy, moe.
1997: Homework, Daft Punk
1998: Bring It On, Gomez
1999: Black on Both Sides, Mos Def
2000: The Mirror Conspiracy, Thievery Corporation
2001: Vocal Studies + Uprock Narratives, Prefuse 73
2002: Quality, Talib Kweli
2003: Evolver, 311
2004: Let it Beast, dj BC
2005: In Case We Die, Architecture in Helsinki
2006: Broken Boy Soldiers, The Raconteurs
2007: Graduation, Kanye West
2008: [Still Undecided] Notables include: Devotion, Beach House; Santogold, Santogold; Rock Ferry, Duffy; Vampire Weekend, Vampire Weekend; Youth Novels, Lykke Li; Attack & Release, The Black Keys

Look, I know the list has its problems. But for brevity's sake, I can't recite a dozen albums for each year. Sacrifices must be made to the vengeful gods of runners-up everywhere. Blood Sugar Sex Magik lost out. So did 40 oz. to Freedom, Ill Communication, Doggystyle, The Chronic, Smash, Good News for People Who Love Bad News, Ready to Die, Hello Nasty, Hard to Earn, The Blueprint. Hell, 1994 could have taken up much of the list on its own. Of course, I'm not happy about the whole situation but that's the way it's gonna be. So chill.

Oh, and I only put Kanye in there because I didn't want him to lose his shit when he finds out that I didn't given College Dropout a nod in '04. Sorry, but it played bridesmaid to Let it Beast.

2008-04-29T22:41:00.000-07:00

From the back of a Black Cab:

Just thought I'd make a rare update of the Stitch to promote a great site I stumbled upon called The Black Cab Sessions. So far I think there are about 37 chapters to the project, which takes musicians, puts them in the back of a London cab, and records thereafter whatever track they decide to lay down while touring the city.

Credit goes to Gorilla vs. Bear (another site worth checking out) for introducing me to the Sessions and my new favorite Swedish singer Lykke Li (not that I necessarily had an old one). You get "I'm Good, I'm Gone" from her below, as well as Spoon's "I Summon You." Enjoy. I'm out.

2008-03-18T18:48:00.000-07:00

From the I-70 Corridor:

First post of '08, so I might as well show you what Summit County traffic looked like last Friday in Officer's Gulch. If you want the full effect, just go ahead and stare at the picture for four and a half hours--beacuse that's how long it took us to get from Vail to Frisco. No joke. Might have had something to do with the jack-knifed semi, or the 35 other cars involved in one accident or another. Ridiculous. Oh yeah, and we spent another four hours just getting to Vail because CDOT had to trigger some slides on the pass.

Was the trip worth it? The snow on Friday was decent. Not incredible, but decent. Plus, the traffic forced us to stay up in Summit...which meant some hiking on Saturday. You tell me if it looks well worth the wait:

Oh yeah, and Happy belated St. Patrick's Day. Sorry I didn't get that in sooner. Til next time, folks.

2007-12-19T00:03:00.000-08:00

From a happier time:

Yesterday I lost a beautiful friend and a kindred spirit. It is next to impossible for me to express all that I want to say about Jenn and how she enlivened our drab world. Yet the grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.

The last time I saw Jenn was right before our Corporations final. She gave me one of those looks. Neither of us really ever went to class (nor cared for the subject), and that was our inside joke. A week earlier, our professor gave his final lecture before fading off into retirement, and both of us happened to be there. He ended with a terse but poignant speech about what we should take away from the class--and from the law school experience. Suffice to say, it wasn't about black-letter law or the importance of regurgitating an outline into a bluebook. It was about life in general, and how we shoud conduct ourselves.

He then left us with copies of a requiem he wrote a decade earlier for a deceased colleague named Art. It asked, "How does one credibly praise in epitaph one who really did never meet a person he didn't like," before noting that one could not help but smile "when you think of him." The work finished in admiration and praise with instructions to "just lead a life imitating Art."

Despite my struggle to write even the most paltry of tributes for Jenn, I think it is fair to ask how one should credibly praise in epitaph a young woman who was loved by all. Like Art, Jenn made us smile. She was the one person that everyone asked about if she happened to be late or missing. When I now think about Jenn I can't help but laugh before giving in to my sadness. She was our fourth roommate--the one we would look forward to finding on our couch after a long night of general mischief. While it pains me to admit it, gone are the days when we would wake up and laugh at our antics from the night before.

At this point, I don't know what else to say--other than we should all try harder to imitate Jenn.

2007-12-07T22:54:00.000-08:00

From the first chair up Mary Jane this season:

Yeah, with the snow finally falling in Colorado I decided to blow off the library for a day at Winter Park. Only for powder, folks. Notice the line behind the chair. Everyone was waiting for the fresh 21" from the past 48hrs.

So right now I can barely walk. Once the place got tracked up it became a workout just to get down the hill. Add a couple of slow catwalk traverses and by the end of the day I had a hard time making it to the car. At least I'll have about two weeks to recover.

Come January, I'll be in those glades.

2007-12-06T15:15:00.000-08:00

From underneath the mistletoe:

Stitch fans, it brings me great pleasure to point out that this will be the last year in which law school exams mess with my normally ebullient holiday spirit. Honestly, though try as they might, they have never fully beat me down. I'm still rockin' the carols like a wassailer should on the ride in to campus and downin' the GBLs* like it's my j.o. But I want my 12 days back. I want maids a'milking and the friggin' pear tree. Bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither. Ain't no party like a Christmas party--'cause someone's gonna sleep with their boss and make January an awkward month to be at the office.

Well, I hope everyone else out there is enjoying the season as much as possible. If you need some music, check out the latest from dj BC. He's the dude who put together the best mash-up albums of all-time by blending Beatles beats with the Beastie Boys. Unfortunately, the bastards at Apple made him take the albums off his site (copyright what?), but if any of you out there want 'em I got 'em.

Santastic III has one of the funniest holiday tracks out there called "A Wicked Hardcore Christmas." The number brings out the Boston Southie and drops a good ol' Jaeger bomb on Jesus. Yeah, it's that ridiculous.

On an unrelated (or maybe related mash-up) note, this has got to be the best music video to hit the web in '07:

Alright, that's all for now. Back to the books. Merry Christmas to all--and to all a good night (in the library).

* Gingerbread Latte. Fight Starbucks; make your own.

2007-11-27T00:17:00.000-08:00

From a better time:

Hey, remember the 90s? Quite possibly the best decade ever in the history of our fair country. Post-Cold War hegemony. Pre-9/11 naivete. Dot-com millionaires. The rise of Grunge. Kelly Kapowski. Camp Anawanna. $.89 gas. $15 half-day Killington tickets. Michael Jordan & Scottie Pippen.

You get the point.

Oh, but don't forget The State. Arguably the best sketch-comedy show of all time. (Yes, the reign of SNL is like the reign of the Yankees dynasties, but The State makes up in height for what it lacks in length.)

At some point in time, MTV will release the 5-disc boxed set of the series--we just don't know when. It was supposed to be this fall, but the bastards at Viacom are holding back. At least the troupe will be making a TV movie for Comedy Central. Aiight.

Til the two come out, I want to leave you with a few clips. Feel free to laugh your asses off, reminisce...

get milk-faced and hum like rabbits.

2007-09-30T18:40:00.000-07:00

From Shea Stadium:

Quote of the Day: "We f*&%ed it up as a team, plain and simple."

Yeah, Pedro. That about sums it up.

2007-08-31T13:17:00.000-07:00

From the Great Bar in the Sky:

Peace out, Michael Jackson. I'm not talkin' about the estwhile-black-man-turned-white-shemale pederast here. No, Michael Jackson was the famed English critic dubbed the "Beer Hunter." He died today of a heart attack. Jackson was 65.

Jackson's Great Beer Guide will undoubtedly remain the Bible of the beer world, and it shall always have a presence on my bookshelf. The tome traveled with me to Europe in '01 when I moved to the Continent and served its purpose as I scoured the speciality shops looking for the Belgian whites, lambics, and dunkel weizens that you can't find in the States. My copy is full of labels and good memories--and for that reason I owe Mr. Jackson a profound thank you.

So next time any of you, loyal readers, have the chance, raise a toast to the Beer Hunter and offer him a sláinte, knowing that he's throwing back a few with the Big Guy. God, I'm sure, has one hellava tap room.

Speaking of the Omnipotent Man Upstairs, I came across a funny letter from a priest to his parishoners while I was back on Long Island. The letter reveals a number of answers that Catholic elementary school kids gave on a test. Of course, if you were to ask my parents, they would probably tell you that if they gave the same answer 40 years ago a nun would have beat the shit out of them. Glad to know we can laugh about these now instead. Enjoy:

In the first book of the bible, Guinessis. God got tired of creating the world so he took the Sabbath off.

Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. Noah's wife was joan of ark. Noah built an ark and the animals came on in pears.

Lots wife was a pillar of salt during the day, but a ball of fire during the night.

The Egyptians were all drowned in the dessert. Afterwards, Moses went up to mount cyanide to get the Ten Commandments.

The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple.

The seventh commandment is thou shall not admit adultery.

Moses died before he ever reached Canada then Joshua led the Hebrews in the battle of geritol.

Solomon, one of David's sons, had 300 wives and 700 porcupines.

When Mary heard she was the mother of Jesus, she sang the magna carta.

When the three wise guys from the east side arrived they found Jesus in the manager.

St. John the blacksmith dumped water on his head.

Jesus enunciated the golden rule, which says to do unto others before they do unto you.

It was a miracle when Jesus rose from the dead and managed to get the tombstone off the entrance.

The people who followed the lord were called the 12 decibels.

The epistels were the wives of the apostles.

Christians have only one spouse. This is called monotony.

2007-07-13T12:56:00.000-07:00

From the Park:

Thought I'd momentarily retreat from the hectic city streets to throw up a post, which I know are few and far between these days. Hope you find these as amusing as I did. All headlines from the news this week:

British Grandmother Weds Osama's Son.

This story showed up in the US media, but they abridged the full story. Yes, she is a 51-yr old grandmother; yes, he's 27; yes, she has multiple sclerosis; yes, he already has one wife; and yes he's one of OSB's sons. What the American articles left out: this is her sixth marriage, and she was married to a Saudi at the age of 16. Crazy, yo.

Gunman Asks for a Hug.

So this guy busts into a swank house, puts a gun to the head of a 14-yr old girl, some woman named Cha Cha tells him to have a glass of wine (Chateau Malescot St-Exupery, I might add), he eats some cheese, asks for a hug, asks for a group hug, and then leaves. WTF??????????!

The Tallest Man Meets the Smallest Man.

And they're both from Inner Mongolia.

Unlady-like Photos (watch the video).

Miss New Jersey unlady-like? Bullshit. No way. There's absolutely no chance that a beauty queen from the Armpit of America can possibly be described as such. She and her predecessors have been--and always will be--the epitome of style, class, and dignity. Frankly, I don't care about these photos; what I really want to see are the ones of her 10 years from now when she's stripping at bachelor parties somewhere outside of Hoboken with the guinea guido wop fuck groom-to-be blowing lines off her ass. Until then, I'll just keep laughing at her trying to explain how tame the present photos really are. My god, I was in tears watching the video. (Oh btw, her reaction to winning is just about as fake as her tits will be once she starts her future job.)

and finally:

Stitch Parties With Mayer in New York.

Well, apparently John Mayer was right behind me as I was sucking face at a trendy, hidden bar last night. That's what happens when you throw back one too many mojitos--you tend to overlook prime opportunities. If this chick had not distracted me, I could have turned around and told JM that (a) his songwriting sucks and (b) he should go off himself. M*****F*****!!! Somebody shoot me! And no, I don't think she was worth it. (Side note: I guess Mayer was across the street with Tyra Banks when we walked in but I missed that too. Don't think I would have insulted him in front of her; she's kinda scary when she gets angry.)

2007-05-08T13:01:00.000-07:00

From the iTunes Playlist:

Being glued to a computer for the last couple of weeks, typing outlines endlessly and lamenting my general condition, I learned a few things: (a) on-air QVC mishaps are priceless when you're sick of real estate transactions, (b) I can study to music after all, and (c) I have a lot of cover songs for some reason. With this last point I decided to compile a Top 10 list since that seems to be quite the common practice nowadays. (see, e.g., the Top 20 Most Embarrassing Pop-Star Moments Ever Caught on Tape.) Procrastination? Why, yes. How observant.

Top 10 Cover Songs on My Playlist Right Now:

10. Comfortably Numb. Van Morrison singing David Gilmour's vocals. You may remember this rendition from The Departed soundtrack.

9. Dancin' in the Streets. The Grateful Dead. Cover of Martha & the Vandellas' original (not David Bowie & Mick Jagger). I do believe Jerry Garcia called this the hippie anthem. Makes sense. friggin' damn dirty hippies and their twirlin and flowers and rainbows. (don't forget the hairy pits.)

8. Iron Man. The Bad Plus. Behold one of most recognizable riffs in music. Now imagine it on a jazz piano.

7. Money. Easy Star All-Stars. The second Floyd song to make the list, all dubbed out and irie. That's not the sound of a cash register in the beginning...

6. Stir it Up. Dispatch. These fellow Midd alums threw a Marley classic into the middle of their own Outloud. Great live track.

5. The Times They are A-Changin'. The Beach Boys. From the Party! disc, the Boys actually recorded it at....well, a party. You can hear people singing and carrying on in the background.

4. Cross-eyed & Painless. Phish. Nothing beats the original but this ain't a bad imitation. Funny thing is--there actually were thousands of cross-eyed and/or painless hippies at Big Cypress when they played it.

3. Oh Me. Nirvana. Meat Puppets classic; Unplugged masterpiece. Technically, this is only a quasi-cover since the MPs were up on stage with Kurt Go-Bang et al, but I'll allow it.

2. Love Song. 311. At times I almost think this version is better than the Cure's.

1. Queen Bitch. Seu Jorge. Team Zissou. Suffraggette City is a close second, but I'm limiting the list to one song per cover band/artist.

Just to note: I also excluded traditional folk songs (e.g., Little Sadie by Crooked Still) and songs not played by their writers (e.g., Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea written by Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler, originally recorded by Cab Calloway, but covered wonderfully by Ella Fitzgerald).

One more exam to go. Stitch out.

2007-04-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

From the seats of your local theatre:

So, if you were to stumble over to www.filmschoolrejects.com, you might just find the Reject's list of the Top 10 Greatest MotherF*&#$ing Cursors in Movie History. And while I don't take any real amount of umbrage to the cast of characters, I nonetheless feel that a few additions, corrections and honorable mentions should be made.

Correction: Mewes should be ranked much higher for his work in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

All you motherf*&$ers are gonna pay. You are the ones who are the ball-lickers. We're gonna f*&k your mothers while you watch and cry like little bitches.

Addition: Kevin Heffernan, a.k.a. Officer Rodney Farva, needs to be on the list.

License and registration... chicken f*&$er. Bwuukak!

Correction: Samuel L. Jackson should be noted for his work in Snakes on a Plane.

Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherf*&$ing snakes on this motherf*&$ing plane!

Honorable Mention: Peter Billingsley as Ralphie Parker from A Christmas Story

Only I didn't say "Fudge." I said THE word, the big one, the queen-mother of dirty words, the "F-dash-dash-dash" word!

And there you have it--my proverbial $.02 on a whole lot o' cussin.' And not a single use of the D-bag expletive in any of the references. What are the chances of that in any given post? Ah, but the Stitch is not done! No, I gotta share this next site with you since it has a D-bag Quiz for all to take.

The Stitch took it. Yup. And the result? Well, when all was said and done, I was greeted with a photo of John Mayer. I shit you not. Rank: Stone-Age Douche.

One last thing: props to Jon Stewart for calling out the Administration on hiring an inordinate amount of lawyers from tier 4 law school Regent University. Though I wish he had just come out and said, "Fuck you, Pat Robertson," Jon was spot on with the comparison to Jiffy Lube Law School.

2007-04-22T18:03:00.000-07:00

From the tiered fields of Cathay:

China came up in two different conversations today--and both had me in stitches when all was said and done.

The first occasion amounted to more of an oblique reference, but dealt with the Far East in general, because I had to explain the difference between the words Oriental and Asian to a couple of crackers (who I will not name at this time, but will gladly reveal upon Congressional request). This led us to conclude that from now on white chicks should be referred to as Occidental to make up for the years spent in ignorance by Westerners.

The second was much more direct, and arose in the context of a vague recollection about a recent article in the news. Turns out that the Chinese Gov't wants to eliminate poor English translations for the 2010 Summer Olympics--ostensibly to help out the invading, um... Occidental crowds, but perhaps more importantly to save face and not come off as a bunch of, um... Asian doofuses. The Communists are cracking down on Chinglish! Aux armes citoyens! Formez vos bataillons! It's off to Tian'anmen Square! Ha. The irony here is that Beijing taxis drivers will have to pass an English test to stay in business. We can't even get that much done in NYC--but I guess that's why the place has flava in the first place.

So, where am I going with all of this? Well, in my research for this piece I came across my new favorite site: http://www.engrish.com/. The name says it all, folks--but the pictures, oh the pictures, are worth all the tea in China.

Any time of year, you can find it here.

Two places I want to ride before I die: Kashmir and the northern island of Japan. I promise not make the skies fall down. But be forewarned: I've been known to make it rain.

Too easy.

I hope the medicine flower chicken nest comes with extra hoisin sauce.

The dainty cyclone vs. a hurricane, and the hurricane's name is Ditka.

Now I'll get up for the elderly, and I don't mind comforting the sick, but I'll be damned if a friggin' crippie is gonna take my seat. those g.d. gravids aren't gettin' it either.

On a side note, the French reserve seats on the metro for members of La Resistance ("anciens combattants"). Another little known fact from Gaul:

ok, back to the East.........

I guess this is where the child molesters throw away their used prophylactics.

Book of Stitch 21:32: And there was much rejoicing in the Sancta Sedes upon discovery of such accommodation for the Church's clergymen in Asia, and even the Bishop of Rome let fly a hallelujah!

Stitch 21:33: But the reaction from the Asian community was less clear, for the world looked to Sandra Oh for guidance and she hath never appeared happy in all of her life.

(smile--you're rich.)

Expiration dates in this place? Ha, I don't think so.

Who knew the ad agency first rejected "Balls to make you #1 on chest"?

This reminds me of a joke about Captain Kirk flying around Uranus looking for Cling-ons.

Blunt and to the point. Don't mess with these people.

Okay, now it's a violent but constructive whirlwind named Toynado vs. Hurrican Ditka. too close to call.

Da [Panda] Bears.

Alright, that does it for now. I'm off, though in which direction I cannot say for sure.

2007-04-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

From Update Central, where coincidences run wild:

So get this: in my daily browsing of pages both useful and not, I came across three posts on a favorite site of mine that had me scratching temple. I found myself asking: what could have possibly led the good webmaster over at Gorillamask.net to include the following amidst the web finds for Tuesday, April 17th?

(a) The Don Imus slur bracket;

(b) The Best/Worst/Most Overrated Ben Stiller movies; and

Could it have possibly been disdain shared with the Stitch? Well, certainly. But that's not to suggest that anyone actually reads this site, nor uses it as a source of material. That would be...well, rather unsatisfactory given the amount of posts created in the last six months. Gotta get back in the groove. No promises, but I'll see what I can do.

In the vein of Uncle Grambo's French instructions over at Whatevs.org, I've decided to give Stitch readers (yes, all three of you) my recommendations for the month.

In the television category: Weeds

With the third season on its way, I suggest you watch the entire second season again on Youtube. straight. no interruptions.

In the literature category: Evidence Stories. Because if I have to read this dull compilation for class, then so do you.

And finally, in the music category: The Good Listeners

That's all for now. goodnight, Irene.

2007-04-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

From atop the podium at the 2007 Worst-Of Olympics:

I don't know what it is--maybe the forthcoming exams, maybe the lack of days at the mountain, maybe Iran, AG Gonzales, the Atlanta Braves, American Idol, dihydrotestosterone, financial aid applications, little reminders of Paris, Colorado drivers, cat hair-covered couches from Craigslist, global warming hysteria, shots off the crossbar, two straight losses in IM football, the flickering light in my g.d. living room--but I seem to be in foul mood as of late.

So I'm going off in true Stitch style by animadverting at length upon the Worst-Of. What better way to release some steam than to call out a few people.

The Worst-Of? Yup. Four different categories, gold medals in each.

Worst Actor:

Bronze: Ben Stiller. Ffs, dude, try something new. If Robin Williams can fail at a drama or two, so can you. Hell, you might even pull something out of your ass worth watching (think Punch Drunk Love).

Silver: Orlando Bloom. The whitest Haitian out there. Yeah, don't let the pale skin fool ya--OB has been workin Voodoo on Hollywood for a while. Proof? Explain to me how this pretty boy continually gets cast as a soldier (Black Hawk Down, Troy, LotR, Kingdom of Heaven) without sprinkling some dust on someone. Greek warriors didn't pluck their eyebrows, Nancy.

Gold: Nick Cage. Never has a man been in more worthless films. And kudos for letting life imitate art. Marry a massage parlor employee half your age and name your kid after Super Man. You're lucky you're a Coppola.

Worst Musician(s):

Bronze: AFI. The leading cause of male erectile dysfunction since 1991. Their SNL set was quite possibly worse than Jessica Simpson's sister's lip syncing fiasco--and they were actually performing.

Silver: The Goo Goo Dolls. Everytime I hear one of your songs on the radio I contemplate tearing the speakers out of my car. Even the name of your band annoys me.

Gold: John Mayer. Whoa, it's been a while, hasn't it? Some would say too long. Girls become lovers who turn into mothers. Really? Gravity wants to bring me down. Oh yeah? Your song writing skills smack of mental retardation--which would explain the picture.

Worst Television Show:

Bronze: 30-Minute Meals. Rachel Ray needs some EVOO-coated Ridalin, or a better yet a total laryngectomy. Anything to shut her the hell up.

Silver: The Real World. What series number are we on? Where's the house? This is the true story of 7 nameless, brainless stereotypes picked to live in a house, and have their pointless lives taped to find out what happens when people who never learned to be polite in the first place act like fucking fools. Make sure there are some pretty titties, a gay guy and a frat boy bigot or two arguing 24/7.

Gold: My Super Sweet 16. Ungrateful, spoiled princesses one year closer to lipo treatment presents and their first divorce. Instead of buyin' you a Benz, your parents should ship your asses off to Darfur with $50k worth of supplies. But let's face it, the only place they'll ship you off to is the therapist's office so you can bitch about your terribly difficult lives.

Worst Racist:

Bronze: Don Imus. The question is: why now? Why denounce this cantankerous, self-satisfied relic now? He's been spewing hate for years. Anyone remember him calling the NY Knicks a bunch of "chest-thumping pimps"? Ah, so there's a formula to all of this: African-Americans + basketball + prostitution reference = Imus quote of the day.

Silver: Jason Wahler. Yeah, I asked the same question when I heard the story: who the fuck is Jason Wahler? Turns out he's a D-List celebrity, which places him somewhere between Elvin from The Cosby Show (less famous) and my 82yr-old grandmother (more famous). The short story: he's another privileged SoCal MTV "reality" star who has been arrested four times in nine months and is currently facing jail time. I guess a few days ago he passed out drunk somewhere in Seattle and when they cops came to get him he called one of them a "n**ger, a f**got and a poor fuck." He then challenged the cop to come down to LA and get his ass kicked. Well, have fun in jail, douchebag--your parents' money won't save your ass from a lil' shower action. Oh wait, that's wait lawyers are for. Damn.

Gold: Paris Hilton. Imus speaks and it dominates the news for days. Kramer flips out and winds up on Letterman. Paris gets caught on tape singing about "jap-y" Jews and Black people "stealing shit," and what happens? Practically nothing. Wtf people?! Where's the outrage? Herpes is not punishment enough for this worthless attention whore. But maybe this poster is a start.

Alright, I'll put an end to this shitshow (and please forgive all the foul language in the post, btw) with two final messages:

(1) R.I.P. Kurt Vonnegut.

(2) Happy belated Easter everybody. Stitch out.

2007-02-10T02:17:00.000-08:00

From the basement of 2921 Shady Hollow:

Yes, after much prodding and various admonitions, I decided to add something to this stale website. It's been awhile, I suppose, since the Stitch posted an entry--whether it be based upon a word of wisdom, wit, or something else. Sue me. (Oh, the irony in such a hollow challenge.)

This would be the invitation to our most recent function '07 at the Shady Hollow. However unfortunate it was to not see several familiar faces amongst the crowd, a good time was had by all. And for those friends absent from this particular shin-dig, I will insist upon your presence at the next.

In the meantime, I hope this message finds you all in good spirits and in better company. May your days be filled with mirth & merriment--the type that are wont to set the table a'roar.

And for those of you who recognize such an oblique reference to the upstart crow able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you, I leave you now with one of my favorite soliloquies from an act overshadowed by another well-known rant:

There's another: why may not that be the skull of a

lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets,

his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he

suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the

sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of

his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be

in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes,

his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,

his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and

the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine

pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him

no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than

the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The

very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in

this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha?

2006-11-07T10:30:00.000-08:00

From the polling station:

Election Day, hoorah! huzzah! civic duty. functioning Democracy. chocolate-covered ballots. yes on amendment 42, no on amendment 40, maybe on amendment 44.

Well, wasn't that a pissa, a wicked frickin' pissa. That's a picture of me, btw, at the polls. Dare I say I went incognito? Don't want anyone to know that I actually voted for once.

You know, I hate elections. I hate the tv ads. I hate the bully pulpits. I hate the talking heads, the false promises, the fake smiles, the baby kissing, the brown nosing, the holier-than-thou opposition, the idealistic belief in equality, the general nescience of the public, the hanging chads, the Democrats, the Republicans, the bleeding-heart liberals, the bible-thumping bigots, the call for more taxes, the defeat of new taxes, the red states, the blue states, the Green Party, the predictions, the upsets, the landslides, the anti-climatic concession speeches, the signs on the front yard, the bumper stickers that'll stay on for years longer than they should, the whiney losers, the gloating victors, and everything else in between.

A misanthrope like me just wants cheap gas and high-speed internet connection. and maybe a beer.

So what, then, persuaded me to get out and rock the vote? P. Diddy? Naw. It's not a matter of life or death. Plus, do you really think this guy could persuade me to do anything?

Was it activist Paris Hilton?

Despite our shared love of club sandwiches, the only way she could get me out to vote would be in support of an amendment banning her from the airwaves, the tabloids--hell, any media of which you can think. And just to make it constitutional, we'd have to throw in the entire class of harlots corrupting our youths: Lo-hag, Skin-n'-Bones Ritchie, Tara Reid, Ashlee Simpson, and--my fav--Britney Spears. Oh, sorry. Mrs. Federline.

Speaking of K-Fed's better half, guess who lost a court battle yesterday.....yup, good ol' fun bags herself. You see, Britney tried to sue US Weekly after it published a story about the purported existence of a Federline & Co. sex tape. Britney was upset about the claim that she acted all goofy when she sat down and watched the tape with her lawyers. (Britney, goofy?) Kudos to Judge Lisa Hart Cole for tellin' it like it is: "[Spears has] put her modern sexuality squarely, and profitably, before the public eye....The backdrop against which this issue must be addressed is that the plaintiff has publicly portrayed herself in a sexual way in her performances, in published photographs and in a reality show.”

Reality show? Oh yeah. The judge probably saw a few of these clips:

The question still remains: who ever decided to give this white trash bitch money? You (and I know you're reading this) obviously have enough to waste, and are therefore indebted to me to the tune of...let's say $150 million.

So, back to the point, what did get me out, then? Had to be this ad:

Doin' it for the kittens.

Speaking of talking heads, Sean Hannity is the devil. He's probably a coward as well for not joining Colmes in the Borat interview (guessing that he didn't want to be ridiculed via the specious naïveté of SBC).

Here's your chance to vote for the best President as portrayed in film or on TV.

This might make you hate politics even more than I do: Hacking Democracy. Watch it before HBO sends a cease-and-desist letter to Google.

And don't forget to watch Fox News tonight to catch all the highlights from today's elections across this great nation. You may catch another freudian slip from Jane Skinner :

Notice how she makes an oblique reference to Shepard Smith's own on-air gaffe:

Ha! uptight neo-cons and their repressed libidos make me laugh.

2006-10-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

From Shea, Game 7 NLCS:

Well, this is it. Game 7 and, unfortunately, Perez is pitching. That's like sending Lynndie England to capture Baghdad. Best case scenario: the Mets win and we take home the IM football championship tonight. Worse case scenario: the Mets lose and I get an ulcer instead of some lousy t-shirt.

Just to note, I've discovered 26 alphabetical ways for Billy Wagner to die if he blows a save tonight for the Mets.

Elsewhere in the news........

Some hussie just broke this poor kid's heart. (Of course, she had to be Asian. )

Classic Kilborn clips. Where have you gone, Criag? Jon Stewart's schtik is growing old and Colbert's replacements are poor imitators. Bring back the sarcasm! (Admittedly, Stewart does well by interviewing Borat.)

Oh my god! the grocer has VD!

We don't study; we don't learn nuthin'; we just make big-ass snowballs.

Dove evolution. Cool.

Alright, that's all for now. I gotta run. Go Mets. We need you to win the Series. It's been a while...

Let's just hope Reyes and Wright don't wind up like these two.

2006-10-18T23:02:00.000-07:00

From a snowy Colorado:

A fortnight before Halloween and I have to scrape ice off of my windshield? Ridiculous. And what was with Buffalo getting hit with 2ft? They don't even have mountains over there. Friggin' waste, man. Nice to see the snow a'falling in Boulder, though. One day closer to powder runs at Copper Mountain--hopefully with the bluebird skies seen here.

2006-10-13T18:10:00.000-07:00

From a prematurely-made grave:

Well, hot damn; the Stitch has returned--with an all new design no less. Apparently, Jesus worked some magic and brought the site back like Lazarus.

I suppose a lot has happened since last I blogged. So much, therefore, about which to post, and so little time in which to do it. Howabout some highlights then?

The 2006 Great American Beer Festival

Yes, folks--it came with beer and left with none. I had my share, but missed out on a lot of the good brews. That's what you get going on the last day of the festival. D'oh!

Ha! Good times. Btw, in case you were wondering, the headphones were part of the silent disco. Wha? Silent disco--where the music is pumped through the headphones only. Yeah, odd to watch people dance without hearing the music yourself. Don't ask me where the Clark Kent glasses came from.

Again, I ranked the beers according to my own peculiar tastes:

(Brewery/Beer/Score)

Alaskan Brewing Co./Alaskan Smoked Porter/8
Alaskan Brewing Co./Oatmeal Stout/6.5
America's Brewing Co./Oompah Loompah Chocolate Beer/6
Atwater Block Brewery/Vanilla Java Porter/6.5
Barley Island Brewing Co./Black Magic Java Stout/7
Beer Co. (Detroit)/Detroit Dwarf/4
Dry Dock Brewing Co./Dark Lager/7.5
Flying Fish Brewing Co./Abbey Dubbel/8
Gella's Diner & Lb Brewing Co./American Wheat/6
Gella's Diner & Lb Brewing Co./Oatmeal Stout/4
Herkimer Pub & Brewery/Kellerbier/6
Jacob Leinenkugel Brewing Co./Sunset Wheat/6
Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales/Oro de Calabaza/5
Lakefront Brewery/New Grist/8
Long Valley Pub & Brewery/Joe's Oatmeal Stout/7
New Belgium Brewing Co./Mothership Wit Organic Wheat/7.5
Nodding Head Brewing Co./Ich Bin Ein Berliner Weisse/2
Odell Brewing Co./Easy Street Wheat/8
Oskar Blues Brewery/Dale's Pale Ale/5
Pennsylvania Brewing Co./Penn Weizen/8
Rock Bottom Brewery (Colorado Springs)/Dark Lager/7.5
Seabright Brewery/Oatmeal Stout/8
Shipyard Brewing Co./Export Ale/7
Sierra Nevada Brewing Co./Brown Ale/7
Six Rivers Brewery/Trula Pilsner/7.5
Smuttynose Brewing Co./Old Brown Dog Ale/6.5
Square One Brewery/Dunkel Weizen/4
Stone Brewing Co./Ruination I.P.A./3

Some notes for ya:

Herkimer's Kellerbier (which I gave a 6) won Gold Medal for Category14 (Cellar or Unfiltered Beer)

Seabright's Oatmeal Stout (which I gave an 8) won Silver Medal for Category 64 (Oatmeal Stout)

Six Rivers was out of its Chili Beer. Stitch fans may remember that I was unable to rank Black Mountain Brewing Co.'s Cave Creek Chili Beer last year, so there'll be no comparison. No mas chili! No mas chili!

Lakefront's New Grist was great. The Beer is the first beer brewed without malted barley or any gluten-containing products to be authorized by the U.S. Gov't. And it's made with sorghum.

What else, what else? Oh yeah, the Stitch made an appearance back east last week. NYC, baby! Another sake-infused evening at Satsko and a few pints of VT beer at the Giner Man.

And finally, doses of randomness to feed your habits:

Beer commercials from the 80s.

Sound advice from a tattoo artist.

George Lucas killed Stephen Colbert--with a light saber.

Knock, knock....

Levitra's newest (and probably best) commercial.

David Cross + I-talian Stereotypes = Funny Shit

Alright, folks, I'm out. Stay classy, San Diego...and thanks for stoppin' by. (Btw, this was post #100 for the Stitch. Call it a milestone if you'd like.)

2006-09-19T21:15:00.000-07:00

From the high seas:

Alas, the sun has set over the Spanish Main. Gone be the days of pirate yore. Though ne'er shall I lament their passing into the great Abyss--so long as September 19th remains "National Talk Like a Pirate Day."

Arrrrrrrrrrrr.

Not feeling the holiday spirit? Need a lil' Long John Silver in ya? (wow, that doesn't sound right.) Howabout this: take the survey and this site will give you a pirate's name with which you can go about the day yelling at wenches and scouring for booty. (ha! double entendre number two.)

My pirate name is:

Bloody John Rackham

Every pirate lives for something different. For some, it's the open sea. For others (the masochists), it's the food. For you, it's definitely the fighting. You have the good fortune of having a good name, since Rackham (pronounced RACKem, not rack-ham) is one of the coolest sounding surnames for a pirate. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.

Sweet. Bloody sweet.

And if you need help with the pirate talk, this page will translate for you.

So get this: there seems to be this resounding animosity between pirates and ninjas. People are actually voting on which category of ruthless killer is better. Here.

Fitting, then, that the ninja from Askaninja.com gave Pirates 2 a thumbs-down:

In other news, Willie Nelson and a group of four other men (all over the age of 50) were busted for carrying a pound and a half of weed on Willie's tour bus, as well as three ounces of fungus loaded with psilocybin. On the road again, eh, Willie?

And, after getting swept by....errr, the Pirates, the Mets finally clinched the NL East yesterday. Yes, everyone knew it was coming. But let's face it; they're one step closer to pulling off a great World Series win on the 20th anniversary of their 1986 championship. No doubt.

Alright, that's it for now. I'll leave you with a few infamous moments in pirate history...

5. Nov. 2005: Somali pirates attack a Bahamian cruise ship.

4. Dec. 1991: Hoffman plays Hook with Mork as Pan.

3. Nov. 1718: Blackbeard terrorizes the Carolinas--and takes 14 common law wives.

2. Sept. 1993: Jerry doesn't want to be a pirate.

1. Circa the present: Pirates get.... hot.

2006-09-05T19:18:00.000-07:00

From the Land Down Under, once again:

Traveling in a fried-out combie,
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie,
I met a strange lady--she made me nervous;
She took me in and gave me.....

A friggin' headache and left a bad taste in my mouth.

So who knows the name Germaine Greer--the strange lady to whom i dedicate this diatribe?

Ms. Greer is probably best known as the uber-feminist scholar and author who wrote The Female Eunuch (which reveals that women don't know how much men really hate them).

Some other fun facts about the woman:

she was involved with a left-wing anarchist group, the Sydney Push
she admitted to being a "supergroupie"
she outed a transsexual colleague in opposition to her/his fellowship election
she believes women should tast their own menstrual blood
she has openly called for the end of monogamy
she once compared female circumcision in 3rd world countries to boob jobs in the west
she published an illustrated book about the "succulent teenage male beauty"

So I bring this all up 'cause Germaine (whom I'll affectionately call Gigi like the only other Germaine I know) had the audacity and poor tact to call out Steve Irwin a couple of days after his untimely death.

Insensitive prat. (Oh, wait; a former female British PM once called her a "great big hard-boiled prat." That works too.)

"There was not an animal he was not prepared to manhandle. Every creature he brandished at the camera was in distress. Every snake badgered by Irwin was at a huge disadvantage, with only a single possible reaction to its terrifying situation, which was to strike. The animal world has finally taken its revenge on Irwin."

When shall the animal world take its revenge on you, Gigi? Snakes on a feminist! Oh, the irony of the allusion to the temptation of Eve is killing me! I suppose I'm just a male blaming your kind for all the evils in the world, right?

The supergroupie admission is just ridiculous. Apparently, in her opinion, groupies demystify sex: "They accept it as physical, and they aren't possessive about their conquests."

By giving Kid Rock a hummer after blowing lines backstage? Wow.

Turns out the guys from South Park probably agree with Gigi. Who would have thunk it?

2006-09-05T03:08:00.000-07:00

From Queensland:

Peace out, Steve Irwin. No more snakes on an Aussie. Where's Sam Jackson with the antidote when you need him?

Alright, so a sting ray got him. But who out there didn't think that just maybe a friggin' snake would pop him for being messed with in the Outback? I mean, pick me up by the tail or disturb my siesta and I'd be aiming for the cojones.

I'm guessing very few expected Steve to fatally slip up. A bite here and there, sure. Close calls, sure. Perhaps even a missing digit or two. Not death, though. People watched the show because they expected thrills, and accordingly had faith in his immunity by which he could get up close and personal for them.

Even the demi-god Heracles was brought down by poisoned blood.

Steve played with fire. But let's face it: he was a dedicated conservationist who was passionate about his work. Could we ever expect to say the same about the millions who laughed at the Aussie exclamations or the Boy Scout demeanor? Hardly.

Time to go wrestle that big crocodile in the sky, Irwin. I'm rockin' short khakis tomorrow for ya.

R.I.P.

2006-08-20T21:28:00.000-07:00

From the coach section:

Finally, after all the hype, America got to see a bunch o' snakes on a plane this weekend... and Sam Jackson deliver the best line of his career:

I've had it with these muthaf*ckin' snakes on this muthaf*ckin' plane!

If you think about it, the scenario just begs the question--how did the snakes make it onto the plane in the first place? Ask Eddie Kim, I guess, since apparently he can get a couple hundred on board at a moment's notice. W.W.H.S.? Huh? No, I ain't talking 'bout Jesus here. Where was Homeland Security?

I just feel sorry for all those snakes out there trying to get around legitimately. Second-class citizens. Would-be terrorists. All eyes on you. At least Snakes McGee and Lacey Boa were able to get their vacation in before the film came out.

Who?

the gentle lady snake, Lacey Boa:

and her beau, the ruff, gruff, beer-swillin' Snakes McGee:

About a month ago, Snakes surprised Lacey at their front range home in Colorado with two first-class tickets to Europe. First though they had to take a train to NYC.

Snakes on a train!

Snakes in Williamburg. Scared the shit out the hipsters. Bunch of sissies.

Ironic twist #1: Snakes and Lacey flew Aer Lingus from JFK. Somewhere St. Patrick rolled over in his grave.

The flight was decent, of course. The couple even wound up with a row all to themselves. (why the other passengers got up and moved seats remains unclear. )

Knowing the Irish to be a rather quarelsome and superstitious lot, Snakes and Lacey caught a quick connection from Dublin to Paris to avoid any confrontation worthy of St. Pat's blessing.

Needless to say, the snakes had a great time in Gaul.

Snakes on a baguette:

Snakes in the Luxembourg Gardens:

Snakes at the Place Igor Stravinsky:

Snakes on a Henri de Miller statue:

Snakes near a gargoyle:

Ironic twist #2: Snakes and Lacey had their best night at the best bar in Paris, La Pomme d'Eve. (4 rue Laplace, around the corner from the Pantheon in the 5th arrondissement.) The owner, George, treated the two to a couple of rounds.

Snakes then started hitting on Sylvana behind the bar and some random chick thereafter.

Lacey wasn't exactly pleased with his antics, but the situation was quickly diffused with promises of a future vacation in Hawaii.

Let's see if they ever get there....

2006-08-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

From Vermont:

Sorry y'all--it's been a while since I posted something on the Stitch, but I think I came down with the bird flu during my final days abroad. Look for more up on the site in the coming days though; I've been focussed on convalescing so I can get back into writing..... about snakes. August 18th. For now, I'll leave you with a clip of my favorite target, Mrs. Kevin Federline. For all you pregnant mothers out there--just say no to drugs. Or are we just dealing with stupidity here?

2006-07-27T03:22:00.000-07:00

From Rio:

Zidane y va marquer... Zidane, il a marqué!

OK, so the photo and caption are a bit dated, but what the hell--I thought they deserved to be posted. One last reference to the World Cup this summer, and--in case you missed it--one last link to how the French react when Zizou scores a goal.

Of course, the latest sporting event to hit Paris was the good ol' Tour de France. Props to Floyd Landis for taking home the yellow jersey with a bad hip--and when I say bad I mean in need of replacement bad or so bad that Landis has problems walking bad. So let's see: Americans have dominated the Tour for how many years now? First it was the cancer patient, then the bum hipster--next year it'll be a jaundiced midget with a club foot. Ha! Kapow. Le nain y va marquer!

So the Tour marked the only time that I was on the Champs this trip. And that's just fine with me. God knows I hate Times Square (with the exception made for the ESPN Zone) back in NYC. Same friggin' deal. Did I ever tell you about the time when a tourist asked me where she could buy CDs as I we were standing in front of the Virgin Megastore? I shit you not.

So what else can I draw to your attention to?

My favorite pundit Ann Coulter thinks Bill Clinton is a latent homosexual. Serious. I guess people will say anything for attention. Check out the transcript (which gets even better) or the video from the Big Idea with Donny Deutsch.

You really are something else, Ann.

Murphy's Law demonstrated.

The movie Office Space performed in 30 seconds by... rabbits.

Porkchop sandwiches, curtesy of G.I. Joe.

Gnarls Barkley + Notorious B.I.G. = The Gnotorious Gnarls Biggie

Stop-motion animation is cool--especially when Tetris is involved. Check out JelleVanDun's My Animated World.

What are friends for, right?

Grandma vs. the Mormons. Did I hear a "pigf**ker" in there?

Ok, that's all for now. Only 8 days left in Europe. Two exams over the next two days. And yet somehow I find time to hopefully keep you all entertained. Later.

2006-07-18T15:51:00.000-07:00

From the Père Lachaise Cemetery:

Yeah, so the whole global warming thing... 99 degrees in NYC, 95 here in Paris, 98 in Denver.

It's like Hansel out there--so hot right now. Have you any idea how much I hate the Métro in this weather? French B.O. is not meant to be put in an oven and baked to perfection. What does it take to get some friggin' A.C. up in here? Quick, find Al Gore and his magic wand. Make it snow, Al; make it snow underground.

Well, despite the insufferable ride, I made it to the shady confines of Père Lachaise yesterday. Great place. Good company. The Lizard King says hello.

Morrison was easy to find--hell, all we had to do was follow the sound of Gypsy jewelry. It was like a counter-culture hajj I tell ya.

Modigliani, on the other hand, was harder to locate. Such a plain grave for such a colorful character. Was he not the last true Bohemian in Montmartre? (I admit I was distracted by all the crosses surrounding the site before I remembered that he was a Sephardic Jew who died penniless.)

On to the links, hoping they'll help pass the duller moments of the day:

The Big Lebowski: F*cking Short Version

Blender's 25 Biggest Wusses Ever. Note: I am highly disappointed that the good folks at Blender left 90s R&B group Color Me Badd off the list. I mean, look at those guys. [Picture not included, for obvious reasons.]

Trailer to Broken Lizard's latest project: Beerfest. (Yes, this movie will pale in comparison to their tale about the Vermont Highway Patrol.)

Hipster Bingo........ brilliant!

2006-07-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

From the U.S. of A-mazing:

Sitting here in Paris, on the eve of Bastille Day, I can't help but miss the States and all the "good humor" that comes with the territory. Now I know most of the recent Stitch posts have read like a travelogue, so I'm gonna revert to classical form here and throw some mindless links at you, hoping to bring a smile to all those faces. Remeber, it's for the kids. Expect a roundhouse kick right to the dome, perhaps a jab at my favorite pundit, something reminiscent of Vermont, and a story about a big friggin' spider:

New drinking game: drink every time the announcer says "Chuck Norris."

and WTF! deadly dolphins?

Gotta love cartoons from 1986 with ruthless Super Ninjas. Get this: in one episode the Claw floods Amsterdam and Chuck flies in to save the day, hanging from his personal helicopter while waiving nunchaku. Turns out Chuck doesn't need a co-pilot (or health insurance for that matter). Oh yeah, there's a clip of the show up on Youtube.

Adam Corolla hung up on Ann Coulter. Priceless. I'm guessing this wasn't the first time some gave her the wrong number.

Bonus moment from the audio clip: Sarah Silverman asking Ann "why such a long face?"

If you have 45min to kill, might I suggest this video clip: How not to get arrested.

Now, I don't which came first--this public service announcement or Super Troopers--but the similarity between the opening scenes is undeniable. Jesus, it smells like Bob Marley's ass in here. You kids been tokin' the reefer, or what?

Ari Gold at his finest. I admit I'm a fan of Entourage--but did they have to make him a Michigan Law grad?! Oh wait, yeah they did. Hugging it out since 2004.

Writer-Director Kevin Smith, aka Silent Bob, talking about his work on Superman Lives before Tim Burton decided to pull him off the project. Jon Peters is a friggin' nut, btw. Could you imagine the film as he wanted it to be?

This is a horse, and these are 34 points by which you can tell it's a horse. This guy, on the other hand, is an idiot and the clip is one sure-fire way to tell that he is an idiot. Thank god most shows have producers, otherwise he'd still be pointing out the bushy tail, the big teeth, and the hooves of a moth. Yes, a moth (which he first calls a butterfly).

Finally, he's no Rachel Ray, no Bobby Flay; he's the Profane Gourmet. You can tell he makes a mean sauce by the guinea 'stache on his lip. Enjoy.

2006-07-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

From a Parisian cemetery:

Sous une lumière blafarde
Court, danse et se tord sans raison
La Vie, impudente et criarde.
Aussi, sitôt qu'à l'horizon
La nuit voluptueuse monte,
Apaisant tout, même la faim,
Effaçant tout, même la honte,
Le Poète se dit: «Enfin!
Mon esprit, comme mes vertèbres,
Invoque ardemment le repos;
Le cœur plein de songes funèbres,
Je vais me coucher sur le dos
Et me rouler dans vos rideaux,
O rafraîchissantes ténèbres!»

--C. Baudelaire, La Fin de la journée

2006-07-10T06:30:00.000-07:00

Du Stade Sébastien Charléty:

Well, for two hours the stadium was filled with cries of Zidane y va marquer! Zidane y va marquer. By the time I left, there was only crying.

(Actually, there was another chant worth mentioning: Vaffanculo, vaffanculo, Italia! Stitch readers may recall the March 30th post and the connection of that expression to one member of the Supreme Court.)

Of course, the first goal had everyone going nuts. Imagine the French thinking they're going to win the World Cup and then Zinédine Zidane scoring seven minutes into the match. Here's the video I shot at the climax of belief in les Bleus:

There was also a battle royale that raged for most of the second half. We're talkin' French immigrant youths viciously going after each other. At one point I saw some dude attack a paramedic. Yeah, that's f*cked up.

Despite the Zidane jersey on my back, at least I was able to say at the end of the day, "Well, I'm not really French, am I?" Though it would have been fun to be in Paris for another win, I suppose there's also something to be said about making it to class on Monday morning. (yeah, right.)

On to some more photos from around town:

Sacré Cœur, flanked by statues of Jeanne d'Arc and Louis IX (Saint Louis)

St Denis (first Bishop of Paris) shortly after the Romans cut his head off for being "too damn handsome for a priest."

An unidentified CU Law student in the underworld of Paris

The entrance to the Empire of Death, aka the Catacombs of Paris

Bob and Phil

The Richelieu Wing in the Louvre

Cardinal René de Birague by Germain Pilon. (Btw, R. de B. was an interesting guy. Doctor of law, member of the Collegio d'avvocati of Milan. Eventual Chancellor of France. Only become a member of the Church after his wife died in 1572--and yet was a cardinal 6 years later.)

Who cares what their faces look like!

2006-07-05T07:47:00.000-07:00

From Harry's New York Bar, Rue Danou:

Being in Paris for the 4th meant that I didn't get to barbecue in the backyard while drinking Bud Diesel bottles til I felt American. Rather it gave me a chance to throw back a Sidecar where the drink was purportedly invented--just like Old Man Hemingway.

Hapy Birthday to the States.

2006-07-02T10:35:00.000-07:00

From Paris, the first Sunday of the month:

They say nothing's free in this world. [insert joke here about Tibet and/or sex.] But perhaps they are just cynics in the American bastion of unfettered capitalism, haunted by a puritanical ethos, expecting a buck to be made whenever and however possible. Perhaps they were indoctrinated at a young age, with lemonade stands and paper routes. Well, at least the imprint of socialism in France ensures that, for one day each month, entrance to the national museums doesn't cost a thing.

The Stitch took full advantage of the monthly event today, first hitting up the Centre Pompidou. Now, I'm not particularly fond of modern art in all its forms and guises. But I do like the CP--both inside and out.

Bruno Perramant, Revolution #1

Georges Braque, Grande nature morte brune

Alfred Mannessier, Morte-eau (my favorite)

That is water, btw, and the words are printed on glass.

By the "outside" of the Centre Pompidou I really meant not only the building's facade but the fountain at the Place Igor Stravinsky. This place is money after dark. Great place to take a date.

Next up was the Rolls Royce of Parisian museums. A veritable circus as well on a day like today.

The Louvre's just one of those places. It's so friggin' big, and houses so many masterpieces, that many people overlook the little guys whose names were forgotten centuries ago. So I did my best to focus on the the smaller objets d'art, which basically serve as filler in between major works. Granted I ran through the Denon Wing for old times' sake (and to see Caravaggio's La Diseuse de bonne aventure), but screw The Da Vinci Code and all that has changed at the Louvre since Dan Brown took a dump and called it a book. (As if La Joconde wasn't popular enough!)

I have more photos to post from the Richelieu Wing--but those can wait. Mostly sculptures. The good shit, not the bullshit. Later y'all.

2006-06-29T08:51:00.000-07:00

Du Jardin du Luxembourg:

With beautiful weather overtaking the capital, the Stitch made a foray into the Garden this afternoon. Le flâneur s’amuse à sa guise toujours à Paris. The pictures, I hope, speak of summer. Big up to Marie de Médicis for making it all possible.

So, as you can probably tell from these photos, the Parisians are great when it comes to pairing modern and classical art. That's why you'll find the Panthéon on one bank of the Seine, and the Centre Pompidou on the other. In between the two, you'll find le Pont des Arts:

More to come soon. I'm out.

2006-06-28T19:41:00.000-07:00

From the roof:

Have you ever fallen to the delirium nocturnum, head spinning in the night's air, whilst ochre and amber tones melt across the darkened sky?

Or watched faces blur in the witching hour, their voices lost in the din of the metropolis?

Or seen midnight shadows emerge from a russet summerscape?

Such accounts do not stem from happenstance in Brooklyn. No, they recall fast times and life across the bridge.

Imagine finding the same in Paris--induced by indulgence on the Mouffe'.

Right. So once the weather improves in Gaul, the Stitch'll have more to show. For now, I'll leave you with these links:

Snakes on a Plane, snakes who complain, snakes, more snakes, too many muthf***in' snakes.

10 Celebrities capable of destroying your bathroom (courtesy of JFunk and the High Life.) Of course, this post begs the question: what about John Madden, Courtney Love, and John Witherspoon?

Could this be the Italian team training for the World Cup?

N to the O to the R to the R to the I to the S: Chuck Norris. (yeah, it's been a while spent away from Rogue references to TRanger's roundhouse kicks.)

Geraldo Rivera smoking a doob, and laughing about it 30 years later. That's pretty high!

Donkey Lips tried to be a Scientologist--and dropped $12k in the process.

2006-06-21T21:08:00.000-07:00

From a place called home:

Vermont is gorgeous right now. And I have the pictures to prove it.

If only I had a few shots of the lake.... or better yet, the lakefront crowd in Girling...er, Burlington. Remind me, again, of why I'm not spending the rest of the summer here with a frosted drink in hand. Hell, I'm even thinking about giving up my habit of sleeping in to catch this morning view on a regular basis:

Alright, so that would probably be impossible. And it turns out that I left the northern wilds for Brook-nam this morning. I did want to stay up there a while longer though. But damn, New York's lookin' good too:

Williamsburg, yo. Too cool for you--and me. Hipsters, dirty hipsters. And the spot's just blowing up. Build, baby, build. Give me an apartment with a view.

Of course, a trip to New York wouldn't be complete without a pilgrimage to Queens, and the stadium we call Shea.

Yup, we sat directly behind home plate, up in foul ball territory. And not a single one came our way. We did see, however, one fly off to our right and hit the peanut (or hot dog) guy. It bounced right off the tray he was carrying on his head. Funny shit. one in a million.

We also saw Jose Reyes hit for the cycle, making him the 9th Met to do so in the franchise's history. Hell, I felt like we were in Hamburg, with the chant of "Ole, ole, ole....Jose, Jose" that went through the crowd. (Btw, Reyes is hitting .489 over the last 11 games.)

Billy Wagner had to blow the game, though. One strike away from a win, and Mr. $43m ruined the night with a telegraphed fastball. If he pulls that shit in August when the Mets visit the Rockies, he ain't leaving Colorado.

And that's the word.

2006-06-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

From Flushing, Queens:

Yes, the Mets do have the best record in baseball. Eight-game winning streak. Gotta believe. The Stitch need not say more.

2006-06-13T15:24:00.000-07:00

From an organic farm in Colorado:

Twas a beautiful day for a wedding. Bluebird skies, puffy clouds, verdant fields, flowers abound. God, what a setting. So this guy dressed to the nines found this girl wearing white and the two of them got hitched.

Soon thereafter, the celebration moved indoors. Someone opened a tab. The bartendress laughed when I asked for a Schlitz . The groom sang a bit of Clapton to his new bride.

Then the cameras came out to capture the inebriation.

There was plenty of posing:

Some head rubbing:

Some necking:

A bit of licking:

And some more:

All in all, it was a great night. Cant wait for the next couple to get hitched.

In other news, Notre Dame DB Tom Zbikowski had Masidon Square Garden chanting his name during his pro boxing debut Saturday night. They also sang the Notre Dame fight song, leading Zbikowski to knock guy out in the first round. Catch the match here. Oh yeah, Jeff Samardzija led the procession into the ring with a Polish flag.

Henry Rollins has responded to the Ann Coulter controversy. Talk about a man of letters--and a case of right-wing neurosis versus mild male chauvanism.

At last, the Borat movie trailer is out on the web. Look for the cameo by Borat's sister--the number 4 prostitute in all of Kazakhstan.

Borat also made an appearance at the MTV Movie Awards to introduce Gnarls Barkley and their Wookie drummer. But first he made one hellava comment about the anatomy of a certain someone.

Later y'all.

2006-06-08T19:36:00.000-07:00

From the Gates of Hell:

So Tuesday passed and not much happened. Maybe because it was really 06/06/2006, and the date only resembled a more infamous number ever so slightly.

If anyone has insight, let him calculate the number of the beast, for it is man's number. His number is 666. (Rev. 13:18)

Well, I guess a few things happened. The guy in the picture--his name is Steve. Satan let him come through the gates for a week or so. He's now terrorizing all the Parisian tourist spots, looking like a typical middle-aged American on vacation. Socks and sandals, buddy? Has Versace not taught the denizens of Hell anything since his untimely death?

(Btw, the Musee Rodin is one of my favorite spots in Paris.... look for a few pics in the weeks to come as the Stitch takes the blog on the road. I might be knockin' on the gates to see if anyone's home.)

The Ol' Devil apparently let another fiend out of her cage this week. And Coulter has not disappointed the Dark Lord.

Disclaimer: the Stitch is gonna use a bit of foul language and imagery from this point out, so kids you might want to make sure your parents aren't hanging around while this page is open.

Ann Coulter should be sued. We're talking group libel. Hit that bitch where is hurts. No, not in the babymaker (which could only bear the Anti-Christ anyway), but in her wallet. Obviously she's running her mouth to sell books, so the profits should make their way right to those that she chose to defame. And what did the bitch say in her new book Godless? Here are some of her best lines:

These broads are millionaires, lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by grief-arazzis....

And by the way, how do we know their husbands weren't planning to divorce these harpies? Now that their shelf life is dwindling, they'd better hurry up and appear in Playboy....

These self-obsessed women seemed genuinely unaware that 9-11 was an attack on our nation and acted as if the terrorist attacks happened only to them.

She's of course referring to the "Jersey Girls"--four women widowed by the attack on the WTC--who pushed for the 9/11 Commission. Interestingly enough, the criticized both the Clinton and Bush Administrations for not taking the Al-Qaeda threat more seriously--and yet wind up in Coulter's polemic against liberalism.

As Rep. Anthony Weiner, D-Brooklyn, said, this bitch is willing to do anything to get attention. (ok, bitch is the only way I can describe her; Weiner compared her to an "insecure child.")

So I'm hoping the Jersey Girls go after her in court--and do so in New York, where a jury would inevitably award the women a nice chunk of change. Here's the legal argument:

False imputation of matrimonial intentions are actionable. (see 44 A.L.R. 1424)

Words or publication imputing marital discord are actionable per se. (see 92 A.L.R. 1128)

Restatement, Second, of Torts § 564A Defamation of a Group or Class
One who publishes defamatory matter concerning a group or class of persons is subject to liability to an individual member of it if, but only if,
(a) the group or class is so small that the matter can reasonably be understood to refer to the member, or
(b) the circumstances of publication reasonably give rise to the conclusion that there is particular reference to the member.

Yup, time to take Coulter down a peg. And kudos to Tucker Carlson (yes, I just gave that conservative douchebag props) for pointing out the inconsistency in faulting the widows for using personal tragedy to push their agenda and not addressing how the Bush administration co-opted 9/11 for justifying the war in Iraq. Coulter's answer: That's their job. Wow.

After seeing Coulter's interview with Matt Lauer, I asked myself what didn't he ask the bitch where her husband is. Could you imagine Lauer saying, "Oh yeah, that's right; most men fear that your vagina is filled razor blades and you piss rubbing alcohol." Or he could have accused her of eating her mates after sex. (Personally, I would have told her to shut the fuck up and drop dead--as someone who had family in the towers--but that's just me.)

I can't wait to see if she offers a public apology. You know, maybe show that she's human after all. Ha! who'd expect the Stitch to wait for Hell to freeze over!

So this is what becomes of our youth when people like Ann Coulter are not held accountable for their mouths.

Ok, enough of Coulter. On to less aggravating topics.

Dave Chappelle's Block Party comes out on dvd June 13th. Pick it up! We're talkin' Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Common, Kanye, and the Fugees in Brook-nam. Erykah Badu's on there too; gotta love her lyrics:

And if you don't want to be down with me / You don't want to pick from my apple tree.

DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince didn't show up at the party, but the former did make an appearance at the 1st Annual Scolari Awards.

Let the World Cup begin. I'm betting on the Germans--home team always plays well.

Remember Gary Lineker's quote back in 1990 when Germany defeated England in a shoot-out:

Fußball ist ein einfaches Spiel von 22 Leuten, die rumlaufen, den Ball spielen, und einem Schiedsrichter, der eine Reihe dummer Fehler macht, und am Ende gewinnt immer Deutschland.

Why soccer isn't doing all that well in the States.

Of course everyone likes to talk about Brazil--and why shouldn't they. Ronaldinho has the most incredible shoes ever made. This video is friggin' ridiculous. Skillz to pay da billz, yo.

Brazilian fans tend to be distracting as well. [nsfw-ish]

Later, folks.

2006-06-02T13:26:00.000-07:00

From the final round in Washington:

Quick, check her hand; I think she has Persian roots words written on there. She's cheating! Cheater, from the Middle English word eschete; it's a noun. Here, I'll use it in a sentence: writing the answers on your palm makes you a cheater!

So a few days ago, a group of us would-be lawyers made a drinking game out of The World's Deadliest Catch. Crab fishing and drinking beer... funny shit. Naturally, we had to come up with some rules for the spelling bee. Here's how it went:

1. Drink every time some kid tries to spell the word in his/her hand, 2. Drink every time someone misspells a word, 3. Drink every time someone cries. (actually, we expanded rule 1 to include every nervous tick, and rule 3 to include getting choked up.)

I don't remember if we implemented a full beer rule for the kid who faints.

The competition was stiff and the drinking regular with these characters:

I'd have to say the highlight was when the word strategery stumped the competition's MC:

Bush pulled it together, though, and later asked the champ if she could help him spell Ahmadinejad in any future letter to his Persian penpal Mahmoud. He then had this to say after seeing Al Gore's new film.

I think most of the boozers were rooting for the Canadian girl who completely blew it on weltschmerz. At least she took 2nd place with a bit of hoser grace.

We were hoping her fellow Canuck Anqi Dong would make it to the later rounds just so we could hear the announcers say his name over and over again. (hey, it's a spelling bee; we're allowed to degenerate to grade school antics.)

Drink, Anqi, for writing in your hand.

And what, you ask, were the two best words from the competition?

Psittacism: mechanical, repetitive (parrot-like) speech without thought of the meaning of the words spoken .

Heiligenschein: German for light of the holy one and my favorite, of course.

Alright, enough with the spelling bee. What else shall I talk about? Ok, one last bee joke:

Moderator: Your word is "sensuous."

Kid: Sensuous? Can you use it in a sentence?

Moderator: Sensuous up here, why don't you give me your mom's phone number?

Kid: Sensuous. D-U-D-E-T-H-A-T-S-G-R-O-S-S. Sensuous.

In other new, Britney's still spiraling downward. Behold her current state:

Stripper shoes, tattoo on her foot, poorly dyed hair, bright red lipstick... who does she look like all of a sudden? That's right, our favorite crackhead and pill-popper:

Now if only we can get K.Fed to off himself like Kurt. That'll of course rob the music world of another bright talent, but such is how things should and must be.

Speaking of music talent, I ask you, Stitch fans, which rap duo is the best out there? Outkast? Maybe.

Black Star (Mos & Kweli)? Closer.

Actually, the best duo I've heard is made up of Hip-Hop-apotamus & Rhyme-noceros, cuz there ain't no party like my nana's tea party.

So what's the relationship between The Simpsons and college football? Well, supposedly Mr. Burns represents Notre Dame, Smithers Boston College, and Seymour Skinner good ol' Colorado. You can see the rest of the cast--and explanations--here.

2006-05-25T21:50:00.000-07:00

From the jailhouse yard:

Poor Jeff and Kenny Boy. Hope they enjoy the slammer with (what one attorney called) the Priory of Enron.

Hey I wonder if Judge Lake's into alternative punishments.... he could always sick ninjas on the two.

He should definitely not let them watch Will Farrell blooper reels.

2006-05-24T13:46:00.000-07:00

From the Plumm on West 14th:

Alright, so without a name, this club would look like just about any other out there. CoolJunkie.com (who comes up with these names?) calls it a cross between Marquee and The Gates. The Gates? Yeah, remember Christo and Jeanne-Claude--they were the ones who put up 26 miles of orange drapes in Central Park last year. ('twas a sublime experience to get caught up in the hoopla. )

Anyway, something special happened at Plumm the other night. A VIP party gathered to celebrate Rosario Dawson's birthday when one G 'n' R frontman met one fashion designer, exchanged words, and the latter (yes, the latter) started throwing punches. Seems Axl Rose moved Tommy Hilfiger's girlfriend's drink and a scuffle ensued. Tommy landed a few blows before his boyguard ushered him out. (Wait, why the fuck does Tommy Hilfiger have a bodyguard? Are these antics common for the designer? Does the fact that most thugged-out white boys wear his clothes mean he can act like a punk?)

Club owner Noel Ashman said that Axl did not retaliate, but would have done "some serious damage" had he chosen to go after Sugar Ray Hilfiger.

Kid Rock saw the whole thing. According to Bob, Tommy was upset 'cause he's lower on the fame food chain. (in case you were wondering, the order goes: mere mortals, Hilfiger, movie stars, rock stars, Michael Jordan.)

Yeah, I'd rather hang with (the original) G 'n' R than these kids any day:

So what else has been happening in the Big Apple? Oh yeah, Britney almost dropped her baby on the street.

Then she started crying:

Then she flashed her thong to bloggers around the world:

Yeah, I love to make fun of Mrs. Federline and her complete lack of class and competency. As they say, you can take the trash out of the trailer park, but you can't take the trailer park out of the trash.

She really has become a circus side show of a mother. Well, ok she's always been part of the circus:

I wonder if Britney would have made a good cheerleader..............

Getting back to Jeanne-Claude and Christo, the dynamic duo has spoken about their latest plan to cover a river in Canyon City, Colorado. Let's hope it happens before 2009 so I can catch another show.

Alright, so I left you last time with the history of dance. Hopefully, some of you recognized that part of that performance came from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Here's one of the funniest scenes you'll ever see.

2006-05-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

From a cryogenics center near you:

The Stitch has thawed, ladies and gentlemen. Shady's back; return of the mack; les cent jours viennent; here I am again. Hopefully some of you missed the words of wit, wisdom, and whatever else you need. You know what they say about taking a rock away from a crackhead....

Of course, this means that exams are over and that I survived the first year of law school. Hard to believe that I am one step closer to being able to sue your asses on my own. Jt Castleton, Esquire. Sounds nice, doesn't it?

So plenty happened during my hiatus--plenty on which I would love to comment. But where to begin? Might as well start with these three:

Shame on Dan Brown for ripping off Baigent & Leigh's Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Shame on Tom Hanks for growing his hair out. Shame on Amelie for associating such a pretty smile with such a disappointing adaptation.

So the controversy surrounding The Da Vinci Code is rather ridiculous. I'm guessing the Catholic uproar is a ploy of self-promotion from Opus Dei. Reverse psychology. Y-G-O-L-O-H-C-Y-S-P. Either that or the Dei is trying to put out a fire by throwing petrol on the flames. As I said, ridiculous.

Jesus and Mary Magdalene? That ho? Come on now, we all know that Jesus would have married the hottest Jewish chick out there. Da Vinci knew it too:

(that's Natalie Portman in there, if you couldn't tell.)

I wonder if Ratzinger's going to see the film. Probably not--I heard he recently came down with the bird flu.

Yeah, the pope got it from a cardinal.

What else, what else. Iraq seems to be a hot topic. Saddam won't enter a plea in his trial. Sunnis and Shiites are picking up where the Hatfields and McCoys left off. Fallujah's living up to its namesake (Syriac Pallugtha, meaning division). Choppers are going down like interns in the White House, circa 1997; like Bush's present-day approval ratings; like the Detroit Pistons after 'Sheed's game 4 guaranty.

But is Iraq really that bad? Hey, if our troops have enough time (and Jell-O) to put out a video for Lazy Ramadi, then one has to wonder about the state of affairs over there. (don't forget fishing in Afghanistan with a rocket launcher.)

Plus, Maj. Gen. Rick Lynch has resorted to picking on Al-Zarqawi's choice of footwear. In related news, New Balance shares were up Thursday, on word of higher sales forecasts in the Middle East. Meanwhile, Nike released its newest ad campaign in Baquba yesterday:

What else? Well, Jack Bauer is still trying to save the world on 24. Apparently, after taking on President Logan and Russian separatists, Jack went after a Christmas Tree.

Britney Spears also announced that she's preggers, again. Shoot her for breeding; shoot me for using the word "preggers" like some D-list celeb commentator on Extra!

Oh God, big sunglasses, a cigarette and Uggs....Britney's dressing like a CU undergrad. Surely these are signs of the Apocalypse. (Click here for more on Mrs. PopoZao, and note the message on her trucker hat. Click here for James Lipton reading the lyrics to K.Fed's master-piece-of-shit on Conan O'Brien.)

Alright, then; the Stitch is back. I leave you now with the evolution of dance.

2006-04-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

From a U.S. District Court, Judge Sim Lake presiding:

Ok, so this is a shot of Kenneth Lat testifying before Congress. But doesn't it look better than those cheesy courtroom drawings?

Kenny Boy's on the stand this week, and the cross-examination has been sweet. Government prosecutor John Hueston seemed to irk the Elmer Fudd lookalike on a couple different occasions. My favorite part of the testimony:

Hueston: Have you ever engaged in character assassination?
Lay: Are you considering yourself in that league?
Hueston: I am a U.S. Attorney, that is my job. You can call me anything you want.

Keeping it real, folks, at its finest.

For all you've ever wanted to know regarding the trial, check out the Houston Chronicle's website, where you'll find photos, court documents, profiles, timelines, prosecution scorecard, forum, and everything else in the kitchen sink.

In other news, Barry Bonds hit No. 711 off of Mets closer Billy Wagner today in the bottom of the 9th--to tie the game. Mets won, though, in 11, so all is forgiven. Unfortunately, this proves that Bonds can still hit a 99mph fastball.

At least the most despicable player in the game had something nice to say about Wagner and the Mets:

I haven't hit a ball like that off him ever. Ever.... It was a big boost for us because it tied the game. They came back and beat us. It shows what kind of team they are. We played good against them. Right now, they're probably one of the best teams on the East.

You're close, Barry; they are the best in the East.

2006-04-24T13:49:00.000-07:00

From the concrete jungles of Brook-nam:

So, a recent conversation had me thinking about my days in Europe and the numerous poli-cultural questions asked of me while I was over there. Naturally, the French had no idea just how far Texas is from Massachusetts--both literally and figuratively--nor did they care, for that matter. (France, btw: 211,207 square miles. Texas: 268,601 square miles.) Accordingly, they felt little compunction when it came to making sweeping generalizations about Americans. I tried on occasion to describe the States as something between a département and an autonomous country and Americans as loyal state residents who often hold little in common with each other--citizenship and language notwithstanding. Some frogs got it; many more did not. For the latter group, an American was an American: all the chicks had fake blond hair and chunky asses; all the guys wore Nikes and baseball caps.

The memories from France came back when I caught some CO residents offguard with the term hipster.

Me: I don't care if it is a Vespa; I wouldn't be caught dead on a scooter.
Girl1: What's wrong with scooters?
Me: This isn't Brooklyn and I'm not a hispter.
Girl1: So you're not cool enough to ride one?
Me: Hipsters aren't cool--no matter what they may think.
Girl2: So why are they called hipsters?
Me: Who the fuck knows.
Girl1: Well who would you call a hipster?
Me: I don't know.... people who like Sleater-Kinney or the Killers.
Girl2: I like the Killers.
Me: You would.
Girl2: [handicapped noises]
Me: Well, you don't wear eye makeup and you're not wearing a wife beater, so why would I call you a hipster?
Girl1: That's how they dress in Brooklyn?
Me: The women? Yes. And they ride the L.
Girl2: What?
Me: And they smoke cigarettes but eat organic food.
Girl2: Weird.
Me: That's what I'm sayin'. Go to the Cobrasnake dot com if you want to see them in action.
Girl1: What's that?
Me: A website with a bunch of photos from a dude who hangs out with Devon Aoki's brother.
Girl1: Who's Devon Aoki?
Me: The cute Asian chick with the fake French accent in D.E.B.S.
Girl1: Ok...what's D.E.B.S.?
Me: A ridiculous movie about lesbians. Jordana Brewster. [quick raise of the eyebrows]
Girl2: Is she a hipster?
Me: No... thank God.

I guess the point of the story is that even we sometimes don't know who we are. I mean, how many of you out there know what a guilder is?

To learn more about the hipster infestation of Williamsburg and elsewhere, please check out this site and ask youself, "Do I have hipsters?"

Big up to Kent Ave, btw.

2006-04-23T20:33:00.000-07:00

From a dark room redolent of death, and perhaps sandalwood:

So, a few people got together the other day to hold a sceance and channel some spirits. Now, normally the Stitch wouldn't be the least bit interested in the story, but the event took place at an Upper West Side cafe called La Fortuna:

Ah, the story gets better. Turns out the cafe was a favorite of a particular musician.

Wait a minute, I recognize those glasses--and unfortunately the Asian woman as well.

Yes, that's right. The group tried to channel the spirit of John Lennon--and now claims to have succeeded.

And you can experience the event yourself for only $9.95.

Forget that gas will soon hit a national average of $3.00. Forget that mortgage rates are on the rise; forget the present war in Iraq has cost about $275.5 billion to date. Forget that social security is approaching insolvency. Forget all your financial worries and please waste ten bucks on an expoitative pay-per-view special that promises to delivery EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomena) through which John will speak out from the land of the dead.

Imagine that.

For those of you actually interested in what John has to say after 25yrs, send me the cash through Paypal and channel his spirit yourself through this simple DIY guide.

In the wake of the Stuart "Mickey" Wiles scandal, Ben & Jerry's is sporting yet another black eye this week. Turns out a few people are upset with the new flavor Black & Tan:

As some (though not enough) of you probably know, the term Black & Tan traditionally refers to auxiliary members of the Royal Irish Constabulary Reserve Force. The na Dúchrónaigh were nothing more than British paramilitary thugs who spilt Catholic blood on Catholic soil in the two years leading up to southern independence.

The B&J's spokesman, of course, apologized, saying the company was built on the philosophies of peace and love.

All I know is that I'll be getting two free cones on Free Cone Day--else I shall avenge the violence suffered by my people.

Come out ye Black & Tans!

Come out and fight me like a man.

Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders.

Tell her how the IRA

made you run like hell away

From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra!

2006-04-22T13:37:00.000-07:00

From a cozy corner of the Oval Office:

The Veep fell alseep as the Pres played host to you know Hu.

Cheney said he was looking at his notes. Right. I tried using that excuse one time in class. No one bought it then, and no one's buyin it now, Dick. Wakey wakey, you've got a Chinese ass to kiss and a trade deficit to widen. But don't mention Iran--you might upset our guest.

What's with people falling alseep on the job? Remember Ginsburg caught forty on the bench:

Funny, Souter and Alito didn't even try to wake her up. That'll learn 'er, eh.

I wonder if Britney was napping when her kid fell off the bed.... twice.

Oh well, politicians will be politicians. And with the public's insatiable hunger for shaming, we'll continue to fault them for sleeping, flippin' the bird, or puking on the prime minister of Japan. Enjoy the clip.

2006-04-20T12:53:00.000-07:00

From Abraxas, 12-14 Jonge Roelensteeg:

Don't know who this kid is, but I know where he is and what he's doing. Youthful indulgence, I'm sure. For it's one of those days, especially in the 'Dam. De facto holiday, here, for half the population (perhaps more) of Boulder. Just another excuse for kids to revel in the bubble.

My advice is to do what your parents did; get a job, sir! The bums will always lose! Do you hear me, Lebowski?

Beware the evils of marijuana and the trippers, the grasshoppers, the hip ones--all gathered in secrecy and flying high as a kite.

Leave it to a coffee shop to have a fresh juice bar, dj sets, and a wonderfully designed website.

Big up to H.I.M. Haile Selassie I, Conquering Lion of the Tribe of Judah, King of Kings, Lord of Lords:

Sure, you might have died at the hands of the Derg during Ethiopian Red Terror (damn Marxists), but what would this world be without the inspiration you gave Burning Spear?

Btw, I'm planning on catching the Spear at the Festival de Rambouillet in July--despite the nearly certain presence of dirty French hippies.

Furthermore, Susan, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to learn that half of the undergrads here in Boulder would enjoy seeing the film Scontri stellari oltre la terza dimensione, aka Star Crash, aka Female Space Invaders:

Why don't they make films like this anymore? The trailer is absolutely classic. And it stars a young Hasselhoff.

How this film escaped a lawsuit by George Lucas is beyond me. I mean, check out the tagline:

From a vast and distant galaxy... A Space Adventure for all Time!

The alternate title Female Space Invaders didn't really make sense til I saw the French lobby card:

In other news, Bigfoot has been captured.... or not.

This is how a deposition should not go. I hope these Southern gentlemen were disbarred for their antics.

And finally, midget muay thai is bad ass. Who got ya, little man?

2006-04-19T15:04:00.000-07:00

From a Hollywood maternity ward:

Let the brainwashing begin! Rosemary.... err, Katie Holmes gave birth yesterday. I wonder if there's an online petition to have Child Services take the kid away yet. Of course, there's gotta be an evil plot--backed by Xenu himself--to have baby Suri kidnapped and implanted with the worst of thetan leftovers.

Tom, I guess, ate the placenta--even though now he's saying that he was joking. Right. Who knew Scientology preaches a no-carb diet.

Rod Stewart brought his kid's placenta home and buried it. Yup. And he's still asking people if they think he's sexy.

To be fair to Katie (whether she deserves it or not), it would be hard to say that she'll be a worse mother than Britney:

It was the paparazzi! They were threatening my baby, so I put him on my lap where it'd be safer.

Really, bitch? Get yourself a better publicist. Spin doctor says what. Just wait til that kid finds his way into Papa Zao's coke stash and brings it to class in a few years... that is, if he makes it that long. (whether "he" refers to your worthless husband or your unfortunate son, I'm not sure.)

So Tom and Katie went with the name Suri. How cute. Actually, more reasonable than Moses or Apple.

What other great celebrity baby names are out there? Well, my favorite is Shannyn Sossamon's son, Audio Science Clayton. (yeah, she was a dj before an actress.) Now I'm naming my firstborn Feedback Castleton like a true rock star.

Your daily SoaP:

Not to be confused with Peeps on a Plane (which I think comes out sometime around next Easter... it's a family movie):

Peeps do Shakespeare too. Romeo and Juliet.

2006-04-18T14:01:00.000-07:00

From the verdant pastures of the Green Mountain State:

Ben & Jerry's ex-CFO Stuart "Mickey" Wiles was sentenced Monday to 27 months in prison (plus 2 years supervised release) and ordered to repay the $300,000 he embezzled from the company after pleading guilty to a federal wire fraud charge in U.S. District Court.

Wiles had a habit of writing company checks for fictitious charitable donations and legal settlements. Turns out he just cashed them to splurge on vacations, car repairs, clothing, and electronics.

Wonder if they serve ice cream in federal prison.....

God, this guy looks like that nut on American Idol:

Lock 'em both up. One for being a crook in the style of uber-shyster Andy Fastow--the other for being, well, on American Idol. Shame on both of you.

Funny, the UMass (Boston) website still has posted an adulatory article on Wiles. And the best quote from the piece:

“One of the nice things about Ben & Jerry’s is that we work for a company that is measured in top and bottom line like any other company in corporate America,” says Wiles, “but we get to be deeply involved in causes and social justice issues. Most people would have to do this in their spare time, but I get to do it at work.”

You forgot to mention criminal justice, there, Mickey.

In related news, conservative talking head and spawn of Satan Sean Hannity actually likes Ben & Jerry's ice cream, despite the company's commitment to environmental causes and support of liberal politicians. It's true.... look:

His favorite flavor: Lucky Schmucky (with nougat)

Mark your calendars, Stitch fans.... Free Cone Day is coming. April 25th. Someone remembered last year:

Ha! Heidi Klum and ice cream. Throw in the Mets winning the Series and you've hit the trifecta.

Oh yeah, in response to Free Cone Day, Carl's Jr. has come up with Asian Baby Burger Day (limit one per customer):

2006-04-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

From Flushing, Queens, with love:

Congratulations are in order. Pedro got his 200th win last night, and beat the Braves to boot. The two teams play something like nine more times in the next three weeks--basically the same amount of time I have left in the semester. The possible outcomes of those three weeks cover the spectrum, ranging from empyrean (Mets win; I ace the exams) to abysmal (Mets sputter; I sleep through Con Law). I reasonably expect the Mets to win at least six.

Yeah, hopefully I'll be thanking the Big Man too.

Btw, here's a look at the new stadium proposal (to be built in Shea's parking lot). It's supposed to evoke memories of old Ebbets Field--erstwhile home of the Dodgers. Props given to a Brooklyn stadium out in Queens? Why does that feel like an LL Cool J song?

2006-04-17T16:10:00.000-07:00

From the sands of Naxos (Dia):

Many thanks are due to the kindred spirit who named, through cultured percipience, my unknown painting. Titian's Bacchus and Ariadne. That makes at least two representations of the god of wine and patron of the bacchanalia in V's gallery.

The allusions made by the iconography should now seem a bit clearer, no?

Consider the inspiration for Titian's work, Ovid's Ars Amatoria (Book I Part XV: At Dinner Be Bold), and Miss Portman's character transformation in the film:

Ah, Bacchus calls to his poet: he helps lovers too,
and supports the fire with which he is inflamed.
The frantic Cretan girl wandered the unknown sands,
that the waters of tiny sea-borne Dia showed.
Just as she was, from sleep, veiled by her loose robe,
barefoot, with her yellow hair unbound,
she called, for cruel Theseus, to the unhearing waves,
her gentle cheeks wet with tears of shame.
She called, and wept as well, but both became her,
she was made no less beautiful by her tears.
Now striking her sweet breast with her hands, again and again,
she cried: ‘That faithless man’s gone: what of me, now?
What will happen to me?’ she cried: and the whole shore
echoed to the sound of cymbals and frenzied drums.
She fainted in terror, her next words were stifled:
no sign of blood in her almost lifeless body.
Behold! The Bacchantes with loose streaming hair:
Behold! The wanton Satyrs, a crowd before the god:
Behold! Old Silenus, barely astride his swaybacked mule,
clutching tightly to its mane in front.
While he pursues the Bacchae, the Bacchae flee and return,
as the rascal urges the mount on with his staff.
He slips from his long-eared mule and falls headfirst:
the Satyrs cry: ‘Rise again, father, rise,’
Now the God in his chariot, wreathed with vines,
curbing his team of tigers, with golden reins:
the girl’s voice and colour and Theseus all lost:
three times she tried to run, three times fear held her back.
She shook, like a slender stalk of wheat stirred by the wind,
and trembled like a light reed in a marshy pool.
To whom the god said: ‘See, I come, more faithful in love:
have no fear: Cretan, you’ll be bride to Bacchus.
Take the heavens for dowry: be seen as heavenly stars:
and guide the anxious sailor often to your Cretan Crown.’
He spoke, and leapt from the chariot, lest she feared
his tigers: the sand yielded under his feet:
clasped in his arms (she had no power to struggle),
he carried her away: all’s easily possible to a god.

The Cretan girl is none other than Ariadne, the same who helped Theseus slay the Minotaur--only to be left (pregnant?) on the shore as he sailed away. Bacchus made her a bride, and potentially gave her the clap.

Ovid went on, btw, to paint quite the picture of seduction:

When Bacchus’s gifts are set before you then,
and you find a girl sharing your couch,
pray to the father of feasts and nocturnal rites
to command the wine to bring your head no harm.
It’s alright here to speak many secret things,
with hidden words she’ll feel were spoken for her alone:
and write sweet nothings in the film of wine,
so your girl can read them herself on the table:
and gaze in her eyes with eyes confessing fire:
you should often have silent words and speaking face.
Be the first to snatch the cup that touched her lips,
and where she drank from, that is where you drink:
and whatever food her fingers touch, take that,
and as you take it, touch hers with your hand.

Sweet nothings in the film of wine, eh? Kind of reminds me of Ben Jonson's To Celia. But, then again, he would eschew the drink for a mere kiss.

2006-04-16T18:29:00.000-07:00

From the Shadow Gallery:

So, at the behest of a friend, I went to see V for Vendetta over the weekend. Not bad. Entertaining in the style of The Matrix. (thank you, Wachowski Brothers.... errr Wachowski Siblings.) A bit over-the-top at times. Well written, though, with plenty of eloquent dialogue for Hugo Weaving to play with--as only Agent Smith could in a Wachowski film. (yes, the allusion's made to Keanu "I know kung-fu" Reeves.)

I got a kick out of V's hideout, which was filled with objets d'art rescued from the censors of the oppressive British regime. I believe I recognized a few of them:

Caravaggio's Sick Bacchus (though this painting is at the Borghese in Rome):

(Caravaggio is one of my favorites, btw.)

Van Eyck's Arnolfini Portrait (which is at the National Gallery in London):

Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott (from the Tate Gallery):

I also spied an unidentified St. Sebastian--inevitably French or Italian--as well as what looks to be a seascape by Claude Gellee (dit Lorrain). This makes sense since he was a major influence on JMW Turner, probably the most famous English romantic landscape artist. And, of course, Turner had to be in there since he painted The Burning of the Houses of Parliament:

I'm pretty sure the version used in the movie was this one form the Clore Gallery in London. In any case, the little Jewish girl from Syosset blew up Parliament in the end, hence the suggestive iconography.

As nothing should wind up on set by accident, the thoughtful viewer should ask him or herself "To what purpose are these paintings included in the story?" or "What am I supposed to understand from their inclusion?"

I'm sure this point was lost on the majority of stoners who went out to see the flm. (Whoa, dude, the guy lives in like a museum and shit. Think about how much that painting's worth. I'd buy like a new car and a house with it. I wouldn't have to work or nothin'.)

The one part they might have got was the scene where Natalie Portman stands next to the painting of a young nude girl. (didn't recognize this one, but check it out for yourself.) I mean, the juxtoposition was rather blatant, but I supposed it worked even for those stuck in a drug-induced stupor.

One last painting. Drop me a line, Stitch fans, if you figure out who painted this one:

Remember, remember, the 5th of November....

2006-04-12T22:37:00.000-07:00

From the pages of Alighieri's Inferno, again:

To Hell and back. (Must have bought the stygian rail pass.)

Deep in the bowels of Beelzebub's abode, Dante and Virgil come across the fortune tellers and diviners, walking backward with unnaturally-turned heads and eyes unable to see. (4th Bolgia)

Wonder if the Cumaean Sibyl wound up down there.

Probably not since the Medieval Church (the long-standing arbiter of God's decisions) held her to be a prophet of Christ's birth based on an obscure messianic phophecy contained in the fourth of Virgil's Eclogues.

Ah, that explains the tour guide choice. And the cameo on the Sistine Chapel.

Sibyl herself was something of a guide in the Aeneid:

Then thus replied the prophetess divine:
"O goddess-born of great Anchises' line,
The gates of hell are open night and day;
Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
But to return, and view the cheerful skies,
In this the task and mighty labor lies.

So, recently I met up with some friends and made the acquaintance of filmmaker (perhaps better described as a struggling artiste) who asked me two initial questions:

Have you seen any avant-garde films?

What's your birthday.

Interesting, right? Small talk, lovely small talk. Naturally, we had a conversation about what "avant-garde" means and how to apply it. Suppression of horrible memories meant that I could only come up with Cocteau's Orphée as a reference. How uncouth of me to better recall the finer moments of Le Diner de cons.

The birthday question went like this:

Me: December.
Her: December what?
Me: The **.... Why?
Her: I'm into astrology... just sizing you up.

You can imagine the sardonic comment I had lined up, just waiting to get in the game like a fat kid on the bench. But I held off; she was serious and came off as intelligent.

So for shits and giggles, I hit the web and came across a free tarot reading. Course, after that conversation, I had to choose the Palladini Tarot, which claims to "bridge the ancient and the future" using elements of Medieval, Egyptian, and modern art. I also opted for the Celtic Cross spread like a good Mc with a drinking problem. And without further ado, I give you the result:

What does this all mean? Beats the hell out of me. What to follow when so much of the reading contradicted itself. But I did like the last card, which claimed to predict "the ultimate outcome should you continue on this course." The Hierophant:

Hierophant--from the Greek ta hiera (the holy) and phainein (to show).

In Attica the hierophant was the chief priest in the Eleusinian Mysteries.

To go off on a tangent for a moment, participants in the Mysteries were said to drink kykeon during the culminating ceremony. This was an odd mixture of barley, water, herbs, and ground goat cheese. Mmmm. Some suggest that the barley used was infested with ergot, a fungus containing the psychedelic agent LSA. Visions ensued. Afterward, the participants gathered in a field to celebrate the pannychis--an all-nite feast accompanied by dancing and merriment. Probably some knockin' boots in there too.

Funny, I knew a kid who took LSD at a concert and saw Jesus.

Ergot posioning has also been blamed for the paranoia associated with the Salem witch hunts.

So, getting back to the tarot reading, the hierophant represents a guide toward knowledge, insight, and wisdom. There was also something in there about faith in tradition and the "old school."

Yeah, how fitting. Like I said, shits and giggles.

2006-04-11T11:48:00.000-07:00

From the first base line, Shea Stadium:

Can you believe it's been 20 years since the Mets last won the World Series? Me neither. I do say, however, with guarded optimism that they look great this season.

Shout out to Bill Buckner, wherever you are. I hear Tarrantino is making a film about your folly in Game 6 of the '86 Series.

God, Red Sox fans are so lame. (and I know a few of you read these posts on occasion.)

Buckner's a much-maligned figure in Sox lore, but remember the game was already tied when he blew it on Mookie's ground ball. The Mets would have won regardless of Billy Boy's error, sans doute mes amis.

For all of those who'd like to relive that fateful night, here is the entire inning recreated with one of the best video games of all time, RBI Baseball (original Nintendo, son), complete with the annoucner's broadcast. INCREDIBLE.

2006-04-10T14:42:00.000-07:00

From the Valley of the son of Hinnom:

Yeah, the OT calls it ga ben Hinnom, which was Gehenna to the Greeks. Some English dude eventually decided to call it Hell. Eternal damnation replete with fiery flames. We don't need no water; let the mother... wait, this place looks rather nice. What gives?

Apparently Manasseh and dissapointed parents from the tribes used this valley to burn their kids. And we're not talking cigar burns on the forearm for not taking out the trash. No, this was human sacrifice made to Molech. Booga booga booga. (Kings 23:8-10; Jeremiah 7:31-32; 2 Chronicles 33:1-6) Josiah cleaned things up and turned it into what looks to be the perfect setting for a golf course.

The Bible also likes to replace certain words with this all-encompassing term called Hell. Sheol, Hades, Tartarus, Abyss, grave, pit, etc.

Whatever the name, a lot of people tend to think that the perfidious, the lustful, and the like are heading down faster than a Thai hooker to some subterranean lake of fire and brimstone for an eternal vacation of suffering the wrath of a vengeful God.

Dante was, of course, no exception. Behold the Nine Layers:

So, ask any stranger on the street about the professions they expect to find in Hell. Drug dealers, maybe. Politicians, surely. Lawyers, mostly. (don't forget many are both.)

Ok here's the fun part; let's throw some people from this last profession into their rightful places in Dante's scheme.

Talk about pushing limits and buttons... I mean, who among mortals really has the audacity to relegate others to Hell? Why, yours truly, of course. Love me or hate me, I don't give a f*&#@ how offended some people are--only how pharisaic. Rest assured--I will keep it real for all the OGs out there. Sure, I'll meet my own Maker one day. But, in the meantime, I'm callin' bullshit on number of chumps.

And there's something to be said about action and reaction here. If some would-be lawyers don't want me spouting off, they'd better start thinking about the consequences of their words before proceeding to openly discuss, for example, how their esteemed parents barely have mortgages on their multi-million dollar homes, the prestigious boarding schools they attended (you're seriously talking about high school?), or their specific grades during classroom discussions.

And no, I won't necessarily address the whole "gunner" label floating around these days. That, I think, has been taken up by someone with another bent. Suffice to say, the appellation includes those would-be lawyers who not only open up their mouths when they shouldn't, but do so with such self-satisfaction that they would nominate themselves as alternatives to the Supreme Court in times of dire need--despite only having two semesters' worth of legal training. Obviously, they'll be subsumed somewhere within.

Kudos, btw, to those who actually make classroom discuss worthwhile. If you've formulated something pertinent to say, then by all means go ahead and do your thang, playa. But for the rest of you, please spare me the hemming and hawing, the articulated mishmash of your failure to think first/speak second, the gross generalizations based on non-existent empirical evidence, etc. etc. etc.

The Dark Wood of Error: I found me in a gloomy wood, astray. The true starting point for a 1L experience.

The Vestibule: This is the land of opportunists, and not quite technically Hell. It's reserved for those neither good nor evil. A few might fall into this category, though who ever really toes the line? I wonder if God keeps a scorecard for this destintation, letting certain acts cancel other ones out... like if you sleep with your client, can you escape Hell by donating $10k of your bonus to St. Jude's? (probably not if it's merely a tax write-off.)

1. Limbo: Home of the "virtuous pagans." Sorry, no Aristotles in the law profession, though Rehnquist might have been born before Jesus. R.I.P, Bill.

2. The Lustful: Residence of Minos, the beast who assigns each soul its final place and torment. (Would that be me?) There are plenty in the field who would qualify for the lustful with ease, for they are so caught up in their own passions that every word out of their mouth has to somehow relate back to their personal agenda. Granted this might be a stretch for a realm reserved for those with sins of the flesh, but the analogy works. These people constantly remind me just how obsessive the self-righteous can be.

3. The Gluttonous: Yeah, NAAFA will sick its dogs on me (if they can get off the floor) for this one, but ain't it funny that, in a health-conscious city like Boulder, gluttony appears to be more prevalent in the law profession? Granted we may have a triathlete or two running around, but let's face it--they're freaks.

4. Hoarders & Wasters: Have I seen hoarding in my days? Why yes, I do recall a tale about someone refusing to share case names with other students during a group exercise.... That schmuck might as well have been ripping pages out of books on reserve, like some do at other cutthroat schools. We--as a student body--may have an honor code, but you certainly have no honor.

5. (The Styx) The Wrathful: Home to the souls of the sullen, who are shut off from all sunlight in their suffering.

6. (City of Dis) The Heretics: At the gates to Hell's city, Dante and Virgil were stopped by a band of fallen angels barring them entrance. The two travellers could not convince them to open the gates--an allegory of human reason's inability to deal with evil itself. How fitting, then, to find the most self-satisfied atheists in Boulder to be those as equally obstinate in their views. What a correlation. To them, I say enjoy the blistering iron tombs, which will be sealed forever upon you come Judgment Day. (October 13, 2047, if anyone was wondering.)

7. The Violent: Reserved for warlords (violent against neighbors), suicides (against self), and blasphemers (against God), the 7th layer is the current home of such notable figures as Pol Pot, Adolph Hitler, L. Ron Hubbard, and Joseph Smith.

8. (Malebolge) The Fraudulent: Wow, ten concentric circles.
I. Panderers & Seducers
II. Flatterers
III. Simoniacs
IV. Fortune Tellers
V. Grafters
VI. Hypocrites
VII. Thieves
VIII. Evil Counselors
IX. Sowers of Discord
X. Falsifiers

Don't VI thru X seem just perfect for the worst members of the legal profession? (Which will be Scalia's final abode?)

VII is so right for the ambulance chasers--you know, those TV attorneys who always pretend to champion the cause of the little guy while lining their pockets to attract their trophy wives.

9. (Cocytus) The Treacherous: The treacherous against kin, country, guests, and masters. Judas Iscariot and Satan himself. I think Saddam has a reservation too, for once the trial is over.

Ok, the Stitch is done for now. If any reader out there feels like I've implicated you in a fate that's less than desirable, well so long as you're still breathing I guess you can change your ways.

2006-04-06T14:41:00.000-07:00

From the aisles of Whole Foods Market, the country's largest retailer of natural and organic products:

I tend to call it Whole Paycheck Market, Yuppie Foods, or Granola Central. Great place, good times, quality food, earthy ambiance.

Gentlemen's Quarterly calls it the one of the best places in the country to find beautiful women.... specifically in Boulder, CO.

For six months, a special team of GQ investigators canvassed the nation--from the debutante parties of Houston to the champagne-soaked banquettes of Miami--in pursuit of the country's most beautiful women.

Apart from Boulder, Denver was also mentioned in the American Girl Cheat Sheet.

Amy, 32, said: "The Denver man dress code: Not GQ! An old pair of khakis or jeans is acceptable attire for anything from job interviews to dates and from weddings to funerals. And don't get me started on their shoes...."

Cara, 35, said: "The don't call it Menver for nothing. The numbers skew in favor of women. Denver guys exist in a protracted state of adolescence. They tend to act, think, and live as if they were ten years younger than they are. Why? Many of them were lured here by the lifestyle."

Well, ok, I admit that I left a coat from Zara back East. Why? Well it doesn't say North Face on it, and the undergrads just wouldn't understand.

Great anecdote: I had the coat on back in Manhattan over break and several visiting Boulder students made comments. Maybe it was the sake that loosened their tongues. Btw, I never posted these crazy photos from that evening.... no it was definitely morning by then:

Of course, Burton apparel suits me just fine out here in CO. (Another anecdote: Burton opened up a store on Spring Street a few months back. From the woods of Vermont to the streets of So-Ho... unbelievable.)

GQ also named the corner of Prince and Broadway as the best spot in the US to meet a beautiful woman, making me just a little homesick.

The magazine also listed the 29 Best Dirty Song Lyrics. Two highlights: Spinal Tap's Big Bottom ("My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo/ I'd like to sink her with my flesh torpedo.") and Starland Vocal Band's Afternoon Delight ("Thinkin' of you's workin up my appetite/ Looking forward to a little afternoon delight.).

Um, I'm sorry, it's the-- it's the pleats. It's uh, it's actually an optical illusion. It's the pattern on the pants. It's not flattering in the crotchal region. I'm actually taking them back right now. Taking them back to... the pants store. Oh, this is awkward.

Oh yeah, check out these articles on Whole Foods:

NYT and the WSJ via Brand Autopsy.

And the scandals.

2006-04-06T14:18:00.000-07:00

From the halls of Congress:

So Rep. Cynthia McKinney (D-Ga.) finally apologized today for striking a Capitol Hill cop (not to be confused with a perhaps comparable Keystone Kop).

The apology, however, came after the convening of a federal grand jury to discuss the possibility of prosecution.

And I say--as must be said--throw the book at her.

I don't care what excuse she comes up with, whether it be racially charged or one of entitlement. If I were to hit a cop, I'd be thrown in jail immediately rather than being allowed to spout off on every news channel about how my hair played into the event.

For shame, Cynthia.

Thumbs down, Rick James style.

And you know what really gets me? The House is made up of a bunch of lazy fuckers.

As of March 21, the House had only worked for 19 days, or a total of 118 hours. That's out of a possible 50 days for the session, or about 38%.

Now, the House is scheduled to work 97 days this year, with each rep. making $165,200.

That comes out to be slightly more than $1,700 a day, or roughly $213 an hour.

Remember, the federal minimum wage is $5.15/hour. A shameful rep. like McKinney or DeLay makes more in an hour than a full-time, minimum-wage employee does in a week.

2006-04-06T13:54:00.000-07:00

From happier times for a Philly fan:

Alright, so I don't generally talk football during the off-season. (insert typical male joke here, and/or comment about red meat and Bud diesel cans.) I may send an email to an old friend in NY after the draft, but that's about it.

However, today will be an exception. Two things are worth mentioning.

First, the NFL announced the '06-'07 schedule today, which inevitably meant that the date has been set for T.O.'s return to Philly. October 8th.

Now say what you will about the most self-absorbed man in sports, but at least he has the skills to back up his mouth. (unlike Fred-Ex, aka ex-Iggle Freddie Mitchell.) And I am scared that he will put up one hellava game come October.

Second, in legal news, a court found fearless leader Donovan McNabb guilty of parking his truck in a handicapped spot--even though he had a doctor's note.

The court fined McNabb $256, tacking on $33 for court fees.

How much is this worth to Donovan? Let's break it down:

McNabb's 12yr contract is worth $115 million. But he also got a $13.5 million signing bonus, and a $7 million option bonus in '04........ $135.5 total.

Now there are 16 games in a season (not counting pre-season, the bye week, and playoff games).

That means McNabb is making $700,000 per game.

There are 60 minutes in a game, meaning he makes $194.44 each second.

So basically, the fine amounts to a second and a half on Donovan's game time salary.

As Mos Def would say, it's mathematics.

2006-03-30T13:35:00.000-08:00

From the U.S. Supreme Court:

Oh, God. Here we go. A law student and the Supreme Court. This should be interesting...

So, over the last couple of months, I've vented a bit--attacking the absurdities of Mormonism, Scientology, and the like. And it was fun. Hail, Xenu. But don't you--my faithful readers--feel like something is missing? What about Kabbalah? Like I left some group out? What about NAMBLA? Like I need to bring it back to the old school and drop a dago like Jim Malone? (there's a bit of cinematic esoterica for ya.)

Call it the responsibility of any good Irishman to take offense to the very existence of those guinea-guido-wop fucks out there. Wow, did he just combo a troika of ethnic slurs? Oh yeah, that's right; they don't count when you aim them at white people from New Jersey.

I wouldn't even know where to begin with these meatballs. Your grandfather would have taken youze out back and beaten youze with a rubber hose, btw.

And no, I'm not about to go after Samuel Alito. That was supposedly Congress' job.

Scalia, on the other hand, is fair game. This terrone has been all over the news lately.

First, he declared anyone believing in a "living Constitution" to be an "idiot." Thank you, Mr. Originalist. What can possibly be said, Nino, about someone who clings to a textualist interpretation of an antiquated document and tells people to change the law (via legislation) if they don't like it? Too much faith in a poorly-oiled system, goomba. We don't all have an Abramoff to get things done. If we had a government of statesmen serving the people--and not Ralph Reeds and Tom DeLays serving their own interests--you'd have a point.

Then came the home video of you all fired up over foreign detainees. "War is war," you said. (yeah, i might agree with you on this one.)

And just recently did you truly let your guido soul glow, offering this gesture from the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, of all places:

Get this: Nino's at a special mass for lawyers (ha!) and a reporter asks him how he responds to critics who question his impartiality as a judge. Nino then looks into the camera, gives it the I-talian salute, and says, "Vaffanculo."

What do you think this phrase means in Italian? Come on now; anyone with the slightest training in a Romance language should recognize the root "cul."

Wouldn't it be great to have a Supreme Court justice drop the f-bomb on you? Almost as good as the vice president. (see previous posts)

That reminds me; there's this great insult in French: Va te faire enculer chez les Grecs!

Turns out that Scalia immediately recognized the inappropriate nature of his comment, and said to the reporter, "You're not going to print that, are you?" Oops.

That's what you get for acting like a fool in church. You forgot to ask WWJD? Hey, how do you think Scalia reacted when the cardinals chose a German to be pontiff?

Speaking of the Teutons, the Stitch will be studying in Europe this summer, and will hopefully make it over to Deutschland for some World Cup action. And perhaps some beer drinking with the native frauen.

To the faux-blonde on the right, I say: Soll ich dich einem Sommertag vergleichen? Er ist wie du so lieblich nicht und lind...Ich liebe dich.

2006-03-13T09:28:00.000-08:00

From the kitchen sink:

Want more proof that God has a sense of humor (apart from the oft-cited duckbilled platypus)? A Norwegian woman turned on her faucet the other day and beer came out. Now I've heard of Jesus turning water to wine, but ain't this something else. I'll leave inquisitive Stitch fans to discover the details of the tale for themselves.

In other news, two women of ill-repute and their pimp robbed a man on his way to Bible study. No, really. One woman knocked on his door and offered him a free strip-of-gram. The man agreed, but then found himself held at knife-point by the other two, who were waiting outside. Turns out the man owed the second woman money for sex (though she fell asleep on another occasion). The three managed to steal the man's Viagra, but couldn't take his car because he had run out of gas. Should have left early for Bible study, buddy.

Muammar thinks Libya is the only true democracy on Earth. Really.

Nature is now a musical. I'm gonna be a Broadway star--oh come on!

Elk do find llamas attactive. Who knew? (NSFW, perhaps)

American taxpayer dollars are being used to fix washing machines in Iraq....with hand grenades.
Snakes on a Plane...the trailer. (finally, a real one.) It looks too good to be true.

SLJ: Enough is enough; I've had it with these snakes.

George Dubya is an easy target--Clinton as well.

Mr. T killed Tupac.

Now, I have no love for rollerbladers, but anyone who can pull off a 200m grind deserves a bit of respect. Word.

Alright, that's it for now, kiddies. Later.

2006-03-10T08:33:00.000-08:00

From Happy Acres Retirement Community:

Come on, now. You know you want to. We're talking shuffleboard, motorized scooters, early bird specials, Mah Jong for the missus, stocked ponds to fish (no more hunting, Dick), neighborhood watch committees to run, shadow neighborhood watch committees to hide in underground bunkers just in case terrorists target the legitimate one, gardening classes, cheap meds on the local black market, family days (to which you can invite your daughter Steve), carolling visits at Christmas time from the kids, defibrillators in the rec room just in case the ticker sticks it to you again.....

Don't it sound grand, Dick? Jump ship while you still can. This lame duck president's gonna wind up the main dish at a Chinese restaurant on Christmas day before all's said and done. This is your chance. Imagine the G.O.P. turning on you two quicker than you can say "Scooter Libby told a fibby." The possibility of such a Titanic-esque descent is all very real.

Wired: John McCain '08
Tired: Bush-Cheney '04
Expired: Tom Delay 'o-you're a skeevy politician

You can only go down on this list, Dick; just ask Paris Hilton.

Look, Sen. Pat Leahy (D-Vt.) has already told Dubya about that incident up in Wyoming.... you know, when the Secret Service agents found you chopping horses and riding logs in your Adult Depends.

Is that why you called Pat an asshole on the Senate floor?

2006-03-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

From Abu Ghraib cellblock 4:

Yeah, Lynndie England's old news. Nothing really up-to-date with this post. No attacks on Mormoms or the like. No comments on how hot Gretchen Bleiler is. Just thought I'd throw a few pics out there in anticipation of joining the iPod bandwagon. The Stitch and white headphones equals crazy free downloads. Oh, well I guess the Joint Chiefs decided to close Abu Ghraib. That's new. At least we still have Club Gitmo, though. Cuba--where anti-American sentiment is downright superficial. USA--where petulant college kids wear Che Guevara t-shirts without a clue as to how much he hated this country and those parents capable of funding 4 years of booze and date rape. (CU being the paradigm, naturally.)

Here's to creativity:

(Cat Stevens on the box.)

(I guess iHamas doesn't flow as well as iQaeda...but maybe iAqsa Brigade would work.)

This last pose has become quite the cultural phenomenom with plenty of imitations. Sure, I've got my favorites here as well:

Mom's not happy with Junior distracting her from such an important QVC order.

Grandma, on the other hand, is quite happy (perhaps even tipsy) in this one.

My worst nightmare: Abu Nascar Prison. The threat of Dale Jarrett footage 24/7 would have me talkin' and renouncing Islam in a heartbeat. Muhammed who?

These pics collectively belong on one particular site...Passed Out Wookies dot com. Here's to counter-culture overindulgence.

One more, ok.

It's a shout-out to either the HRH The Stitch I himself or a young Fidel somewhere in the Sierra Maestras on the road to revolutionary fame (or infamy):

Viva la revolución!

Oh yeah, and Gretchen Bleiler is ridiculously hot.

Whereas Gwen Stefani, secretly Jewish:

And I'm spent. L8er sk8ers.

2006-03-04T11:46:00.000-08:00

From a Dianetics center near you:

Greetings so-called earthlings, inhabitants of Teegeeack. (that's the asinine name Scientologists give to our planet.) Booga booga booga. Tax shelter.

So the Stitch is going after L. Ron on this post. Unfortunately, Old Mother Hubbard never locked her fucked-up son in the cupboard, which means I have call a spade a spade and set things straight.

Hello, my name is Lafayette. I invented a religion for money. I also lied about my wartime service in the Navy. And when I died, I had the hydroxyzine hydrocloride (Vistaril) in my system. That makes me a hypocrite, since it's used to treat neuroses and emotional disturbances brought on by anxiety. (if only Matt Lauer had done his homework and called Tom Cruise out like the little bitch he is.)

The lies about L. Ron's years in the Navy really piss me off. Since December 7, 1941, hundreds of thousands of Americans have either been killed or wounded in action. And, whether you agree with the justifications of military engagement or not, you have to respect the men and women who put themselves in harm's way.

Scientologists fundamentally debased the legacy of such sacrifice when they asserted L. Ron was awarded 29 medals and awards. (The schmuck himself only claimed 27.) The pseudo-church even had the audacity to petition the Navy to send it the medals. Yet, now it seems the list has been shortened:

Navy Commendation Medal with 1 Bronze Star.
Purple Heart.
Naval Reserve Medal.
Organized Marine Corps Reserve Medal.
(British) The 1939-45 War Medal.
(French) Medaille Commemorative Française 1939-45.
(Netherlands) Bronzen Kruis.
Philippine Defence with 3 Silver Stars.
American Defence Service Medal.
American Campaign Medal with.
Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal.
European African Middle Eastern Campaign Medal (ETO Medal) with 1 Bronze Star.
WWII Victory Medal.
National Defence Medal.
Armed Forces Reserve Medal.
Navy Expert Rifleman.
Navy Expert Pistol Shot.

The Navy concluded that L. Ron's service record only showed he was entitled to 4 general medals (those in blue). What's more, some of the other medals don't even exist. What a blatant fraud. The British Ministry of Defence had no record of an L. Ron receiving a non-existent decoration. Go figure! And what about the European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal? The asshole never left US coastal waters.....

The Purple Heart is the worst lie. L. Ron saw no action and received no wounds. His ship once depth-charged an area in which he thought there were two Japanese subs. We're talking 37 depth charges in 68 hourse of "combat." The Navy investigation concluded the quixotic L. Ron was chasing windmills. Turned out to be a known magnetic deposit. Asshole.

And yet L. Ron went on the claim that he had discovered a method by which he healed his fictitious war wounds. "Crippled and blinded" he said.

How do recieve shrapnel and bullet wounds when no one ever attacked you? Then again, how do you go on to convince people that Aliens were flown to Earth, put in volcanoes, and blown up with hydrogen bombs?

Kudos to the most recent issue of Rolling Stone for its article on the inside of Scientology. There's nothing like painting a revelatory picture of a world replete with bullshit for a public overrun with images of Tom and Katie.

Oh Tom, you're such a douchebag. There's no other way to say it. Yes, the language is crude and offensive, but do you deserve better? Hardly. You're a loose cannon.

Now, on to the fun part. Xenu. Alien overlord. Galactic Confederacy. Interstellar travel on DC-8s. Deception by income tax inspection. Thetans. blah blah blah. mumbo jumbo. do the hokey pokey.

All hail Xenu!

This is a story 'bout a alien who needed to solve an overpopulation problem. (oh, it gets better.)

So, for those individuals foolish enough to fork over tens of thousands of dollars to the CoS, there's basically this level of worthiness you can reach--at which time the secrets of the universe are revealed to you. It's called OT III. (don't worry about the details.) This is the point when Scientologists get to hear Xenu's story. Here's the dumbed-down version:

75 millions years ago...
1. There was overpopulation in the Galactic Confederacy.
2. Xenu was about to be deposed.
3. With the help of psychiatrists, Xenu rounded up 13.5 trillion people for purported income tax inspections, drugged them with alcohol and glycol, and flew them to Earth (Teegeeack) on spaceships nearly identical to DC-8s.
3. The drugged people were dropped off next to various volcanoes--into which Xenu's minions then dropped hydrogen bombs.
4. The resultant explosions created all these disembodied souls called thetans.
5. The thetans were rounded up with an "eletronic ribbon," brought to "vacuum zones," and forced to watch a "3-d, super colossal motion picture" for 36 days.
6. This movie implanted misleading data into the memories of the thetans, including the tenets of Roman Catholicism.
7. Xenu, deposed, was imprisoned forever by a force field powered by an eternal battery.
8. Teegeeack was then abandoned by the Galactic Confederacy, effectively making it a "prison planet."

So, these thetans supposedly now cling to our bodies, causing all the world's problems. Of course, through Scientology, one may take steps to remove these thetans...... for a price.

a) 6 month begiining membership - free
b) Annual membership - $300
c) Lifetime membership - $2,000
d) Sponsor - $5,000
e) Crusader (New!) - $10,000
f) Honor Roll - $20,000 or 20 new members for the IAS recruited
g) Patron - $40,000
h) Patron with Honors - $100,000
i) Patron Meritorious - $250,000
j) Gold Patron Meritorious - $1,000,000
k) Senior Honor Roll - 100 new members for the IAS recruited or "contributed to IAS expansion in some stellar fashion".

And these are just the dues. To go from a mere initiate off the street to an OT VIII (think of that like a state of enlightenment), we're talking $280k:

Life Repair - $11,200
Purification RD - $2,560
TRs & Objectives - $11,200
Scn Drug Rundown - $11,200
ARC Straightwire - $11,200
Grade 0 - $16,800
Grade 1 - $11,200
Grade 2 - $11,200
Grade 3 - $11,200
Grade 4 - $11.200
New Era Dianetics - $16,800
Clear Certainty RD - $2,800

Sub-total to Clear: $128, 560

Solo Course pt. 1 - $3,200
OT Preparations - $6,600
Solo Course pt. 2 - $1,900
OT Eligibility - $6,600
OT I - $2,00
OT II - $3,800
OT III - $6,500
OT IV - $13,000
OT V - $29,600
OT VI Set-ups - $18,500
OT VI - $12,800
Pledge Intensive - $9,250
OT VII - $3,500
OT VII C/Sing (per year) - $6,400
OT VIII - $10,00
OT VIII Auditing - $ 14,800

Grand Total: $277, 010

Fuck that; I'll take the $280k and buy an Astin Matin Vanquish S along with a condo in Breckenridge. Somethig tells me that a little more reasonable than buying into bullshit stories of interstellar travel on DC-8s (ain't it funny Jonny Travolta is a pilot?) and simultaneous volcanic explosions.

The best point in the anti-Scientology arsenal: there is absolutely no quantitative, tangible, scientific evidence to support L. Ron's fictitious story. Hyrdogen bombs leave a residue of radioactive isotopes--and those detonated 75 million years ago would still be detectable today. Moreover, the remains of those killed would have left some trace in the geological strata surrounding the missing craters. (and for those who would say that the bodies were vaporized, I point out how CoS literature claims that some survived the blasts.)

All in all, I think it's safe to say that Scientology amounts to utter bullshit, and those that believe in it's message are fucking retards. Again, I hate to use such coarse language, but hopefully it conveys the absurdity behind someone actually having to write about this crap.

For more on the debunking of Scientology, check out:

www.xenu.net

And for a bunch of interviews given by ex-Scientologists (including OT VIIs), see:

http://xenutv.bogie.nl/interviews/index.html

A pox on the 1st Amendment! (wow, doesn't that sound un-American.) Between the Mormons and the Scientologists, the founding fathers have every right and reason to be rolling in their graves....

What? Now an attack on the Mormons? You're damn right.

Hi, my name is Joseph Smith. I invented a religion too. I was actually born in Vermont, but the good folk there ran me out of the state. When someone lost the original "traductions" that I made up, I was forced to come up with a lie explaining God commanded me not to retranslate those portions of the Golden Plates. That's what I call quick thinking. But I guess I got what was coming to me when that mob rushed the jail where I was staying and killed me. Yeah, that kinda sucked.

Mormonism teaches that God has a physical body and lives on a planet near a star called Kolob. He is but one of an infinite number of Gods, each ruling over his own world located somewhere in the universe. Supposedly, each God has untold numbers of goddess wives who produce millions of spirit children. Amazingly, these spiritual offspring of God and his goddesses must then be birthed through physical beings (non-gods) on earth. This obtains for them the physical bodies necessary to become Gods and goddesses, who create and rule over their own worlds.

Does anyone else smell that?

Oh yeah, the Mormons also believe that Lehi's sons, Laman and Lemuel, rebelled against God, who, in turn, cursed them and turned their skin dark. Mormonism claims that these dark-skinned Hebrews (Lamanites) are the original ancestors of the Native Americans.

Again, there is no scientific evidence to back up the bullshit.

This is the beauty of DNA research. It doesn't lie like a chump born in the VT sticks with delusions of grandeur. Undeniably, the Native Americans are not linked to any tribe of Israel. I point to the estimable work of Professor Bryan Sykes in support of this conclusion. (y'all should read The Seven Daughters of Eve.)

Hell, go check out the Oxford Ancestors website and they'll map out your genetic heritage for you. For £180.00 the company will establish a link to one of the 36 "clan mothers" that cover all of humanity.

So, the Ignorant probably each have an answer to my points. You see, that's the beauty of faith; it's incontrovertible. You say "That's what God said," or "God told me..." and there's absolutely no need to say more. Forget proof, evidence, corroboration, reasonableness, logic, research, and the like. And for the detractors, well we're just evil and/or misguided. Thetans, right? Or Satan. Booga booga booga.

2006-02-28T10:01:00.000-08:00

From a psych ward in South Africa:

The Stitch is not dead! I'm on hiatus. Perhaps I've gone crazy, like Dave Chappelle. Might be the crack. (Law school and crack rocks equals crazy delicious.) Then again, maybe it's the massive Memorandum of Law in Support of Defendant's Motion to Dismiss the Indictment. Yup, that sounds about right. And the appellate brief's on the horizon.

I do promise, though, some regular updates in the days to come.

In the meantime, go see D.C.'s Block Party this weekend. Kanye, the Mighty Mos, and a Fugee's reunion in the Brook-nam all caught on film. Word.

2006-02-16T00:46:00.000-08:00

From Weehawken, New Jersey (July 11, 1804):

So this is Vice President Burr and Alexander Hamilton right before the latter got Swiss cheesed up. Rat-a-tat-tat, Mr. Secretary. Should not have fired high on that first shot.

So let's pose a duel between good ol' Aaron Burr and the current VP, Richard Cheney.

______BURR ......... CHENEY ........ ADVANTAGE___
Born: Newark, NJ..... Lincoln, NE..... .............Dick
College: Princeton..... Yale (drop out)........... Aaron
Military: Lt-Colonel... 3-A reclassification... Aaron
Grad: JD (Law).......... MA (PoliSci)................ Aaron
Wife: Theodosia......... Lynne......................... Aaron
Daughter: Theodosia..... Mary (aka Steve)..... Dick
Residence: NYC....... Jackson Hole.................. Push
Congress: Senator...... House Rep.................. Aaron
Nemesis: Hamilton..... Pat Leahy (D-VT) ....... Dick
Rap Sheet: Murder, Treason...... 2 DWIs....... Aaron
Shot: Secretary............. Lobbyist.................... Dick
Scandal: Plot in Southwest.... Plame Affair..... Aaron
Notoriously: Immoral...... Unapologetic....... Aaron
Running Mate: Jefferson...... Dubya............. Aaron
Currency: $10........... funny money............. Aaron

Winner: Aaron "Sure-Shot" Burr

(As if there were any doubts.)

2006-02-15T14:35:00.000-08:00

From the crosswalk on Abbey Road:

The Beatles. (decent band) The Beastie Boys. (decent rap trio)

What would happen if these two teams joined forces, Voltron-style? Mash-up magic in the vein of Danger Mouse and The Grey Album.

For all of those who love genre-breaking music, go check out dj BC's project, THE BEASTLES. You can download two great albums situated somewhere between Manchester and Brook-nam. Might I suggest a few tracks like Belly Movin' and A Day in the Life of a Beastie Boy.

So Chuck's back. Not only does WTR endorse the the Total Gym, but now he's hawking Action Jeans. Forget Diesel, Seven, and Lucky; Chuck obviously needs his movement for his signature move... the roundhouse kick.

Then there's this kid. Zombie gamer. Day in, day out.... must kill, must feed. Sunlight isn't part of his vocabulary and the word "female" only calls to mind a picture of Liv Tyler from the LotR movies.

This short film about his kind is friggin' great.

Update from Torino: CU alum Jeremy Bloom didn't medal in men's moguls. Sorry. At least you have the NFL draft to look forward to in the coming months.

So who thinks the Stitch should lay off the Cheney controversy? Anyone...................... ? ok, no cream.

2006-02-14T16:16:00.000-08:00

From the presidential palace, downtown Helsinki:

And thus begins Conan's march on the Ukraine. Like Napoleon returned from Elba--only twice the size. Les Cent Jours, or maybe a week of late-nite. Cross the Baltic states, Whitey, and wake to immortality.

Congrats to homegirl Hannah Teter. That makes back-to-back gold medals for VT. 3 out of the last 4. Haters want to say that olympic snowboarding is a US sport. Nah, man; it's a Green Mountain specialty. (Kelly Clark, btw, put in the run of the year with her second final--despite the sit-down on the last 900.)

Of course, on a day like today, I've got to mention CO native Gretchen Bleiler as well. She's the cutie with the silver medal. Happy Valentine's, darling. Gimme a ring when you get back to the States and we'll celebrate on the Front Range.

Yeah, Shaun White. Ya done well too, kid. I'm guessing he was like 10 or 11 when I first saw him ride pipe at the US Open, fore-running the course for the OGs at Stratton. Look at him now.

In other news....

This might be the wrong Valentine's Day gift. Ain't the little dookie precious, though?

Speaking of excrement, Britney has been cast in Shallow Hal 2. Now KFed thinks he's even more black.

Also from Hollywood--Vice President Dick Cheney has been picked as the next James Bond:

(I might have to retire after this Photoshop mash-up.)

2006-02-12T13:25:00.000-08:00

From the arid expanse of Tatooine:

So nothing captures the holiday spirit of Valentine's Day like Star Wars, right? We're talking 'bout love from a galaxy far, far away. Forget roses and chocolate; bring on the lightsabers and wookies.

Droid-on-droid action...............hot.

Red Six standing by--for some piggyback lovin' in the slop. ha!

Alright, so I had to have some fun with Photoshop for Valentine's Day. And I stuck with the silver screen. Enjoy.

I see you rolled your way into the semis.

So the cartoon fury continues. Don't these people have jobs? Can you take vacation time from the kebab shop to go burn effigies?

Your "revolution" is over, Mr. Lebowski. Condolences! The bums lost! My advice is, do what your parents did, get a job, sir! The bums will always lose!

Curse the Americans and their ideals of free speech.

How to spot a pedophile. (note the cameos.)

How to spot a frozen raccoon.

How to scare your little brother. (God, if only I had the resources when we were young.)

Gogo + Mario 2 = entertainment.

Another Nintendo tribute.

And one more for good measure.

Might as well throw a Pac-Man clip in there too.

The wrong type of lawyer. (If ever the Stitch resorts to being a scumbag, TV-commercial attorney, someone please shoot me.)

This guy's bound for Germany this summer.

Jesus is faaaaaaaaabulous. (watch for rioting in Utah after this one.)

Zazoo keeps the natality rates in Europe down.

2006-02-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

From the arctic waters off a Lappland shore:

Yup, Finland. Pickled herrings. Reindeer. Aurora borealis. Cold place. Not Russia. That's about all I know. Oh yeah, and Helsinki claims to be the capital. Nice parks:

Alright, so I added the Stooges to spice things up a bit. Doesn't look like Scandinavia, though, does it? This might be better:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

(Robert Frost as morbid as ever.)

So who can bring up Finland without mocking its politics? I mean, how does a self-deprecating Mc from Boston decide its presidential election? We're talking about Conan O'Brien here. Turns out that he and incumbent candidate Taja Halonen are kuin kaksi marjaa. Behold the madness that is pasty skin and russet mops.

Conan started running endorsements on his show, which then got air time on Finnish TV. Halonen reaped the benefit and won. Now CO'B is on his way to Scandanavia to tape his shown. His plan is to cut a swath through the Baltic on his way to ruling the Ukraine.

Conan's connection to Finland actually transcends the presidential election. A while back, he ran a series called "Conan Hates My Homeland" and predictably bashed the country. Conan subsequently recieved hundreds of postcards from the Finns and was moved to retract his put-downs. Finland, jewel of the Arctic, I humbly beg your pardon. Conan then went after Sweden.

Gotta love Conan. Mom's godfather (grand-godfather?) was the props guy on the show for a number of years. Talk about a good connection to have for bringing a date out in the city. Works like a charm.

So what else has recently caught the Stitch's eye? Turns out there may be a 10th planet out there. Bigger than Pluto. Word.

And what did they name this new planet? Xena. (They in this case probably means "astrologers by day, UPN fans by night. Trekkies by weekend and/or vacation.")

Mars--god of war. Venus--goddess of love. Neptune--god of the sea. Xena--syndicated cult legend. Ridiculous.

This guy should be getting paid by Fox. Skills to pay da bills, y'all.

Robot does what? (the first kid's a small fry; so's the second. The third and final kid goes slow-mo and steals the show.)

Is this one funny? Well, does the proverbial fat baby fart? Powder keg.

Urban ninjas. everywhere. Here. Here. And here.

Not to be confused with actual ninjas.

Or skinny ninjas.

Or Legos ninjas.

Or kitty ninjas.

2006-02-06T21:15:00.000-08:00

From somewhere outside of Tehran:

So the Stitch has never paid much attention to the rhetoric coming out of Persia, but suddenly I feel compelled to state the obvious: Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is one neurosis short of a full-blown schizo picnic. This nut is tempting fate and a third world war, and just doesn't seem to get Bush's firm, midwestern belief in an 11th Commandment:

Thous shall not messeth with the bull, for the horns are sure to follow. Look, Bush is smiling 'cause you know he'd love to find you in a rat hole just like that formerly-mustachioed man who tried to off his father.

Sadd-ahmadinejad needs to take a look around and ask himself who would possibly help out if the U.S. came a'knocking: two of his neighbors were forcefully ejected from their upstart pulpits with ease (one of them on the weakest of pretenses you can possibly imagine), the Jewish guy down the street is just itching to drop the bomb on him, the Russians wouldn't dare step in to his rescue ('cause nothing spells out shame like a tank falling apart before it even gets to the border), and the Red Chinese government dislikes Islam just as much as the junior senator from Kansas. You got no friends, Mahmoud. Oh yeah, and the Sunni world thinks you're an apostate.

So keep on coming up with grand ideas like sponsoring a holocaust cartoon contest, you fucking retard. Statesmen rely on tact to defuse dangerous situations; you like to pour petrol on the bonfire.

Oh, but I guess this latest stunt is your answer to the Jyllands Posten cartoon controversy:

I'm not sure what is more offensive to Mahmoudy here: the depiction of Muhammed's manly mug, or the mocking of the idea that virgins await suicide bombers in the afterlife.

Btw, I hope those idolatrous Danes realize that you can't expect levelheaded reactions to flow from societies in which a mere cartoon can lead to the torching of embassies.

Now I'm just waiting for the Catholics to riot over South Park's penchant for making fun of Jesus and the Holy See, as well as the Hindus to set fire to Springfield (Massachusetts, hopefully) after Homer's impersonation of Ganesh.

Well, at least some Muslim firebrands had the forethought to get two messages out at once.

Ha. Yeah, so I had some fun with Photoshop tonight. I saved the best for Sadd-ahmadinejad:

(notice the gansta-lean on Mahmoud's hat; evidently he's gone all ghetto.)

See. I knew there was something screwy with this dude's processor. (God, that was a bad joke. I apologize for that right there, Lord. Git 'er done.)

Fatwah the Stitch, bitch. I dare you.

2006-01-31T01:06:00.000-08:00

From Bangaan Village, Ifugao Province, northern Luzon Island:

Alright, so I would be thrilled to see the Banaue Rice Terraces at some point in my lifetime. But it turns out that a menace threatens the 2,000 yr-old site.

Behold, the hostem humani generis:

Yes, the earthworm. The dastardly denizen of the deep who delves down into the dark depths of the dank soil beneath our dearly beloved terraces to digest soil and destroy. Cursed be his kind.

Others would like to blame the gimmicks of ecotourism for the deterioration of this UNESCO World Heritage site. I don't know; that slimy fish-fodder up there may look harmless, but I'll bet you anything that it harbors a profound hatred of my travel plans.

So, I may just have to settle on China. (btw, I hope y'all are recovering from the New Year celebrations.) The terraces there don't look too bad:

Yeah, if you like these shots you might want to check out the photography of Yann Arthus-Bertrand, who compiled hundreds for UNESCO in Earth from Above. Fills up space on a coffee table rather nicely. Great no-brainer gift for a significant other as well. (my advice: save it for back-up contingency plan in case of last-minute necessity.)

2006-01-28T23:14:00.000-08:00

From 中華民國 I think:

Happy Chinese New Year, y'all. Break out the bubbly and the fireworks. It's technically 4703 if you're not counting count from birth of El Niño--and the Year of the Dog.

Supposedly the Dog year and those under its influence are protectors of morals and defenders of the weak.

For the watchful Dog keeps us one step ahead of those who would harm us.

And which celebrities find themselves under the influence of the Dog?

Madonna
G.W. Bush
Cher
Michael Jackson
Ralph Nader
V.I. Lenin
Elvis
Liza Minelli
Bill Clinton

Wow, it is not crazy how well this list divides itself nicely between protectors of morals and defenders of the weak? Freaky deaky.

Turns out I was born a monkey.

People born in the Year of the Monkey are the erratic geniuses of the cycle. Clever, skillful, and flexible, they are remarkably inventive and original and can solve the most difficult problems with ease. There are few fields in which Monkey people wouldn’t be successful.

The Monkey list:

Tom Selleck
Johnny Cash
Leonardo da Vinci
Lord Byron
Harry S. Truman

Good company. Me and Magnum.

Alright, so in honor of the holiday, I've put together a collection of video clips from the Far East. Marco...

...Polo.

First up, this well-known duo (and repeat post) w/ a hit from the Brokeback Boys:

Then we have this pair of lychee nutty cats from Cathay:

The black & white lip sync team:

A song & dance routine from some tourists:

And a clip from Fasion Week ('cause Weijie deserves some air time):

再见我的朋友

2006-01-27T18:31:00.000-08:00

From a rink somewhere in Seoul:

Even monkeys who ice skate are wearing fur-trimmed coats these days. Put some Uggs and a pair of big white glasses on that simian and it might just be able to pass for a CU Sophomore.

Who got ya?!

Hey, if anyone out there can find video of this monkey doin' its thang, please let me know. I was charged with finding the clip...

but this was all I could find--and it's rather sad, if you ask me. While I do make fun of PETA on a regular basis, I see why the organization could prove useful on occasion.

Naturally, there are legitimate ways to exploit animals--specifically for my amusement.

Behold, cat helmets.

This is what's known as the Feline Protection and Enhancement System. Militarizing pussies since 1985.

Hey gato, quisiera una cerveza, por favor.

And the system seems to be in high demand, with instructions on the web on how to design your own customized F.P.E.S.

Why do I feel like this cat might be German? Die scheisse ist Banane!

Right.

2006-01-25T21:43:00.000-08:00

From a Colorado I will never know:

Hey, remember when the Russians and Cubans landed in Calumet, CO? Yeah, they just dropped by one day right in the middle of history class and all we had to resist them with was that chick from Back to the Future (who was the natural choice since she had that whole revolutionary/freedom fighter look going on). Kinda like Goonies meets Apocalypse Now, right?

Oh yeah, and we had the dirty dancer herself, Ferris Bueller's sister, Jennifer Grey:

Yup. Red Dawn. Great movie. First one to get a PG-13 rating. All-star cast. Patrick Swayze, C. Thomas Howell, Charlie Sheen, the two aforementioned ladies, Powers Boothe of Deadwood fame.

So get this: 5 parachutists were blown off course in shooting the opening scene. One of them, Jim Fisher, wound up stuck in a tree and had to plead for his life with the locals 'cause they thought he was a veritable Russian soldier. Way to go, Comrade.

My favorite quote from the movie:

Jed Eckert: ...Well, who is on our side?
Col. Andy Tanner: Six hundred million screaming Chinamen.
Darryl Bates: Last I heard, there were a billion screaming Chinamen.
Col. Andy Tanner: There were.

So, there's a reason for bringing up this relic of a film from the bygone days of the Reagan era. No, I don't harbor any remnants of Cold War paranoia.

It's this video of an Oklahoma Full Auto Shoot. And by "full auto" the director means fully automatic machine guns with which to blow shit up. Judging by the age of the featured participant, I highly doubt a Red Dawn scenario could ever play out on our soil. Enjoy.

2006-01-23T19:15:00.000-08:00

From a street somewhere in Trento:

So a pack of anti-globalization I-talians briefly stole the Olympic torch today. The self-styled "Disobedient Ones" grabbed the thing 'cause nothing says NO to the exploitatory tactics of free trade agreements and imported venture capitalism like disrupting a celebration of global harmony, goodwill and respect. Here's the kicker: they took it from Eleonora Berlanda, an I-talian track star. Her job is to outrun people and she can't get away from a couple of dirty hippie idealists? Ridiculous. I expect as much from Grandma Guiseppa (above) with her hip and all, but come on now, Eleonora-- you're better than that.

What a heist. Second only to when Gutter snagged the 'bee. Whaaa?

PCU. The old-school Old School. Piven pre-hair plugs. Ironically, Gutter, aka Jon Favreau, snagged the 'bee from the dirty hippie idealists. Alright.

So, in the spirit of lashing back at the those who think half-baked acts of social disturbance are the best way to get their message across, let's try to piss PETA off here.

Awwwwww.... puppies and kittens. I'll take my puppy with cheesy pickles, no bun seeds--per Dane Cook. (sorry, it's the G-rated CC version.) Big up to the BK Lounge.

Hey, did you ever hear about the time Chuck Norris brought a lamb back to life with a gentle beard rub? He then snapped its neck, saying, "The good Chuck giveth, and the good Chuck taketh away."

Who would have thought that SNL could come up such great material this season? Two words: Lazy Sunday. Chronic + Narnia + Whitey Ford = Wet Pants. Try the 7 yr-old version as well.

I wonder if Chuck can play air guitar like G.O.B......

L8er sk8ers.

2006-01-17T22:48:00.000-08:00

From Bardonecchia, Italy:

Fine wine, mountain vistas, rustic charm, raven-haired women, boarder cross and halfpipe finals. Alpine heaven. Turin's down the road.

NBC's calling it Torino, as if John C. Oklahoma speaks I-talian and would be offended to hear the anglicized version of the name. Guess they'll reference Muenchen this summer with the World Cup. right.

No matter. Bardonecchia's the place to be. 2/12 for the pipe; 2/16 for the bx.

VT--by way of Ross Powers (below) and Kelly Clark--made two golden appearances in SLC. Let's hope the Virdis Montis faction carries the US through the games once again for bragging rights.

2002 finals
1 USA Powers, Ross 46.10, 32.00, 46.10
2 USA Kass, Danny 42.50, 41.50, 42.50
3 USA Thomas, J.J. 33.20, 42.10, 42.10
4 Italy Kratter, Giacomo 34.90, 42.00, 42.00
5 Japan Nakai, Takaharu 38.30, 40.70, 40.70
6 USA Czeschin, Tommy 40.60, 40.50, 40.60
7 Finland Sorsa, Heikki 36.80, 40.40, 40.40
8 Finland Koski, Markku 39.00, 25.40, 39.00
9 Canada Andrew, Trevor 30.30, 38.60, 38.60
10 Norway Franck, Daniel 29.20, 37.40, 37.40

If not for the VT locals, I'd be backing the Norwegians.

Daniel Franck, the legendary enfant terrible of the snowboarding world:

One of my favorite boards of all time was Df's first K2 pro model. I rode it into the ground. A couple of the K-town OGs will remember how well that board treated me.

Btw, there's irony in Df's olympic appearances. Franck started the Arctic Challenge with fellow Norwegian Terje Håkonsen. This man is the name in snowboarding. There is no other. 3 ISF halfpipe championships, 3 US Open halfpipe championships (which I witnessed), 5 European halfpipe championships, et cetera et cetera et cetera. Terje chose to boycott the games after the IOC selected FIS (Fédération Internationale de Ski) to handle qualification rather than ISF (International Snowboard Federation). We're talking Hatfield-McCoy wrong here. And yet Daniel went along with it.

Then there's Norwegian freestyle (moguls) gold medalist Kari Traa. Hello. You don't exactly have the Michelle Kwanesque wholesome look going on, do you?

Oh, wait. There it is.

Damn. So, get this. I used to work with this man, Finn Christian Jagge. Another Norwegian gold medalist. I should have asked him to introduce me to the entire ski team when I had the opportunity. Alas! bygone chances and days of yore. Keep smiling, Finn.

2006-01-14T19:44:00.000-08:00

From Pacific Air Flight 121:

Who would have thunk it? '06 might be the year that SLJ unseats the Jovian Dude in the pantheon of cult films. Sure, The Big Lebowski has spawned festivals and bowling tourneys, has given rise to some of the best lines ever spoken on the big screen ("Nihilists! Fuck me. I mean, say what you like about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it's an ethos."), and has half of the known universe sipping White Russians.

But, here comes Snakes on a Plane.

Wired calls it the "Best Worst Movie of the Year."

The buzz on the net about this film is tremedous, while the few screen shots out there are simply ridiculous.

Yes, that's Kenan Thompson--current SNL playa and alumnus of Nickelodeon's All That. He's the lunchbox that coined the phrase "Welcome to Good Burger, home of the Good Burger; can I take your order?" God, how I hope snakes are attracted to bling. Like nerds to the internet.

Howabout the run-up the to premiere? You know SLJ will make the late-night rounds: Conan, Letterman, etc. I can see it now:

Dave: I think it's safe to assume that the snakes are gonna bite some people in this film. heeheehee.
Paul: Snakes on a plane!
Samuel: Yes they deserve to die AND I HOPE THEY BURN IN HELL!

right. shoot me for that one.

Act now and get your very own S oa P t-shirt for only $13.50.

Urban Dictionary (dot com) currently lists 6 entries for the expression "snakes on a plane." As you can imagine, I'm sort of partial to the example given under #6.

Guess who's also in the film. No, not Julianna Margulies. Oh wait, yeah she's in there too. Actually, I was talking about David Koechner, a.k.a. Champ Kind of the Channel 4 News Team.

Whammy.

This shit is great. Thank you Indra Jahalani for explaining the appeal of such a film: camp is popularity plus vulgarity plus innocence.

Oh yeah, I made sure to spread the word about the film this week at Copper:

On that note, I'll leave you with a few more pics from the mountain. This first one has Schuyler shouting Geico fo ya moneeeeeey.

Stitch out.

2006-01-09T17:00:00.000-08:00

From Summit County, Colorado:

Day 25 of break: woke up to blue skies and the Pass buried in snow. Riding with the locals... call it vacation. Enjoy the pics.

Yeah, Colorado has 100 more inches of snow at this point in the season than last year. If this were California, I'd be saying hella gnar. As it is, I'll just say sweet. Check out the difference from the bottom to the top of the pass:

Why take a chair to the top when you can ride up in style? Btw, that's a 14ft road gap just waiting to be launched. Who got ya? Taxi.

Here's the first descent.

Dave's pointing at the trees, of course. We tracked them up rather well. But first, there was this great powder field to take care of:

Right. There. And the the kicker. Don't forget the kicker. Twenty-five frames to show you how an indy leads to a white-out. Here we go. I rode out of this hit, btw, and you know this, man.

Why yes, to air is human, to land smoothly is divine. The frames don't really show it, but the transition drop-off was sick. An extra couple of yards out was several more down. All in all, it worked. well.

As Ice Cube would say, today was a good day.

later.

2006-01-06T21:25:00.000-08:00

From New Years with Chuck Norris:

Happy '06 y'all. Had a hellava time in the City. Where to begin with the stories......

Chuck made it out to the party. Has anyone ever been roundhouse kicked at midnight while trying to down a bottle of Veuve? It doesn't tickle.

So WTR keeps popping up all over the place. Seems as if people just want to test the Chuck. Not a good idea.

Gandhi wants a piece. So does every other superhero in the Ultimate Showdown (click "watch this movie" and download the flash plugin). This short flash film explains just how many people it would take to take down the Norris.

Alright then, I'm off to the mountains. Updates to come later. The posts will pick up once I'm no longer on vacation. I promise.

2005-12-19T21:02:00.000-08:00

From the Green Mountains:

I'm back. East coast says what. Merry Christmas. The Virdis Montis have called me home and I am reborn. Law school is out of sight, out of mind. I don't know what a Restatement is, I dont know who Judge Posner can possibly be. Tomorrow you can find me feasting on brunch at Sneakers, the finest joint in Burlington (no pun intended).

I dare you to try to find a better diner; it can't be done. Go ahead. I've done the whole lobster-mimosa NYC blueblood hotel brunch thing and it doesn't compare. Who got ya? The French Dip is the ambrosia of the gods. The homemade VT maple syrup croissant is divine--and you know this, man.

I'm just disappointed that I missed the fall here. No orchards, no cider doughnuts, no foliage in the Rockies.

I was raised in these here mountains and my bones will be laid to rest in them. You can bet on it.

UVM vs. UC Boulder.
Dirty hippies vs. dirty hippies

Lake Champlain vs. the Flatirons

Red Square vs. Stir

Church Street vs. Pearl Street

VPB vs. Mountain Sun

Advantage: UVM

It's all good in da hood. I'm freakin' out, man.

Happy Holidays, Stitch fans. I'll be in the City after Christmas if you need me.

2005-12-12T20:36:00.000-08:00

From Rockerfeller Center:

Yeah New York; show 'em how it's done. Keep it real, keep it live 'til I get there. We've got some catching up to do, you and me. Remember the highlights? Time to relive the bygone days of mirth and merriment. I'm makin' a list.

I want some friggin' schnitzel from Rolf's:

I want a bottle of Wostyntje at the Ginger Man:

I want several bottles of sake at Decibel, in style no doubt.

And I want to lounge at Sugarcane (we're talkin' res ipsa here, if you know what I mean).

Only the Fed.R.Civ.P. stand in my way. I'am about to pull a 12(b) and dismiss that shit. There's light at the end of the tunnel and it's coming from The City. It's the Roc. Holla.

That's what I want to see: a Roc-a-fella Christmas LP from HOV and Kanye. Or a decent MC battle. Speaking of Jigga, he recently signed this new, pint-sized UK rapper by the name of Laddy Sovereign. Rolling Stone can't stop marketing her to the masses. Personally, I don't know what to think about her yet.

Rap from the UK is odd. Take The Streets (aka Mike Skinner) for example. At first, I was not impressed with this guy:

His lyrics are kinda weak, but the flow is infectious; you can't help but like it after a while.
Plus, the guy's a cracker, which puts him in some illustrious company:

We've got 'nilla...

And tubby Bubba "I'm cool 'cause I added three Xs to the end of my name" Sparxxx...

And Lil' Ronnie, the 12 year-old who thinks the Colts will go 16-0...

And some schmuck named Marshall who can thank Viacom for bringing him up out of the trailer park.

Alright, so the caucasian persuasion in the hip-hop nation isn't all that bad. We've got these guys:

But the Beasties are like 60. Mike D broke his hip. Ad Rock's a member of AARP. MCA drinks Ensure.

Thank God for the new blood. Aesop Rock. Big up to Brook-nam. "I'm a sovereignty columnist, fathering doom documents, a cursed version of a certain Virgin Mary womb occupant."

No sleep til Brooklyn. You're on my list too. Can't wait to ride the L.

2005-12-12T06:04:00.000-08:00

From a cave atop a crag:

Alright, so I have about an hour 'til my Torts final...been up all night...feel like the Grinch (no Christmas spirit up in hizzere).

But for some reason my mind ain't on the res ipsa; it's goin' back to good ol' Harriet. Does anyone else see the resemblance? And this ain't to say she looks like a canine....

2005-12-09T01:09:00.000-08:00

From Radio City Music Hall:

Merry Christmas, y'all. Big up to the Rockettes kicking day in and day out. Better than regular roundhouse kicks to the head from Chuck Norris.

Aint this season grand?

It's one for irony:

And cold-hearted beasts who fall in love, get hitched and spawn a brood of anti-Christs:

And hillbillie carols for the boys and gurls.

And 25,000 Christmas lights synchronized to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

And pranks at the office:

And more kids lip snycing to the Backdoor Boys, again.

And jolly fat men who like to puff a bowl:

And OGs like Rodney Mullen. There's style, and then there's RM style. We're talking darkslides. Yes, the board is upside down.

And finally the 2005 Web Tard Competition. Go vote! Seriously, dedicate an hour or so and watch the best of the best; you won't be disappointed.

Alright, that's all for the moment. More to come once finals are over. Y'all stay classy now, ya hear.

2005-12-01T15:32:00.000-08:00

From a Hollywood mailbox:

Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like this guy's facial expressions:

Often you hear "the Man" used to describe someone with extraordinary character and charisma, but really there's only one in my opinion....and his name is Christopher Walken.

The antithesis of the Man? Well, remember this kid?

Yup, that's right; it's Donkeylips from Salute Your Shorts. I bring him up for two reasons. First, Steigerwald's brother was running around the Colorado-Nebraska game in a Camp Anawanna t-shirt. Secondly, it seems the Actor Formerly Known As Donkeylips (AFKAD) has a page on MySpace.com and he's tryin' out his R&B skills to win a lady. Child star, all thugged out, making $40k a year, in seach of the perfect hook-up with whom to share a comic book passion. (I ain't making this shit up!)

Alright, true, AFKAD is a step up from the antithesis--but he came close with his bubble-wrap appearance in Dude, Where's My Car?

So who takes the crown of the anti-Man? This Guy. Hysterical. (From Latin hystericus, from Greek husterikos, from huster, womb .... etymologically opposed to Man, I supposed.) Simply ridiculous.

One last word on Salute Your Shorts: the rich girl on the show, Dina Alexander (aka Heidi Lucas), has a fanlisting... 1,000+ hits, only 11 fans. Sure, she hasn't done anything since a '98 commerical for Coke, but she had talent, right?

So, Stitch fans, you also remember these two, right? Chinese Nick Carter and Chinese A.J. McLean (and yes, I did have to look up the second name on the internet, but the first one I knew because he gave Paris Hilton a black eye) :

Alas, the imitation has begun. Seems the ladies had to get in on the action as well.

Lame...

(I'm thinking Adam and I should put up our own version for shits and giggles. Just a thought.)

Then there were these two:

Well, through diligent efforts (and a desire not to outline Chapter 6: Remedies), I discovered better karaoke antics above and beyond the call of comedic duty. This too is one of the funniest videos I've found to date.

Getting back to Christopher Walken (whose real name, btw, is Ronnie), someone needs to write the Man who would be president in 2008 a Christmas carol. Stitch fans perhaps. Maybe an Australian.

So, I don't know if you can read the lyrics from the sheet music above, but it turns out that there's an Australian version of the "Twelve Days of Christmas," complete with six chooks a-laying, four kangaroos, two koala bears and an emu in a gum tree. Crazy Aussies and their kookaburra vernacular. To get all technical and shit, the six chooks are a-laying googies.

What next? Howabout an Irish version of the song? Nollaig Shona Duit! The holiday does have a Celtic origin. So here we go:

twelve rummies stumbling
eleven shots of uisge
ten sippers sipping
nine Gerry Adams jigging
eight maids getting ugly
seven sinners sinning
six drunks a-puking
five more pints
four bullies calling
three too many
two black eyes
and a leprechaun in a lime tree
(yes, I know, there probably are no lime trees in Ireland, but it sounds nice and it's green.)

Course, the Irish have a prayer for everything:

May peace and plenty be the first
To lift the latch to your door,
And happiness be guided to your home
By the candle of Christmas.

the aforementioned song has an interesting history behind it too. To quote Dennis Bratcher:

The popular song "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is usually seen as simply a nonsense song for children. However, some have suggested that it is a song of Christian instruction dating to the 16th century religious wars in England, with hidden references to the basic teachings of the Faith. They contend that it was a mnemonic device to teach the catechism to youngsters. The "true love" mentioned in the song is not an earthly suitor, but refers to God Himself. The "me" who receives the presents refers to every baptized person who is part of the Christian Faith. Each of the "days" represents some aspect of the Christian Faith that was important for children to learn...
However, many have questioned the historical accuracy of this origin of the song The Twelve Days of Christmas. It seems that some have made an issue out of trying to debunk this as an "urban myth," some in the name of historical accuracy and some out of personal agendas. There is little "hard" evidence available either way. Some church historians affirm this account as basically accurate, while others point out apparent historical discrepancies. However, the "evidence" on both sides is mostly in logical deduction and probabilities.

And what, you ask, is the code behind the song?

1 Partridge in a pear tree = The One true God revealed as Jesus Christ
2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments
3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity
4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists
5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament
6 Geese A-laying = the six days of creation
7 Swans A-swimming = the seven sacraments of the Catholic faith
8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes
9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Spirit
10 Lords A-leaping = the ten commandments
11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles
12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed

Interesting--as is the actual cost of all the gift giving named in the song:

1 Partridge in a pear tree: $104.99
2 Turtle doves: $40
3 French hens: $45
4 Calling birds: $399.96
5 Golden rings: $325
6 Geese a-laying: $300
7 Swans a-swimming: $4,200
8 Maids a-milking: $41.20
9 Ladies dancing: $4,576.14
10 Lords a-leaping: $4,039.08
11 Pipers piping: $2,053.20
12 Drummers drumming: $2,224.30

Total: $18,348.87

Total if you were to follow it the whole way through: $72,608.02

Learning the code so that when you reach the Gates of Heaven you have something with which to serenade St. Peter: priceless

There are some things money can't buy; for everything else there's.........

(John Mayer?....no I already did that one)

Christopher Walken.

Your random, very random quotes and videos from around the world:

"The humor of the entire situation suddenly gave way to a run for survival as huge chunks of whale blubber fell everywhere."

Is this a funny anecdote that just had to be shared with the world?

Ayumi Hamasaki. I think she's singing about Christmas. How fitting.

I hope a sketchy French guy with a video camera doesn't follow us around on my 25th.

And God said, "Let there be an igloo." We then ate ice and drank water from the lake.

We Todd Baseball. (I love this clip because the minivan at the very end has Vermont license plates.)

Merry Christmas, y'all. And a Happy Festivus to our favorite curmudgeons out there too.