I lift things up, and I put them down. Can I have an endorsement please?!

Being an athlete is a hell of a lot harder than lifting heavy things and putting them down. First, you wake up every day with a firestorm of people telling you how awesome you are. You’re so talented, tehehe. You’re so good at everything! You’re going places! Oh you play a professional sport? Can we get naked now?

Athletes are rarely given an opportunity to develop actual character because they spend most of their life getting smoke blown up their no-no zone. That’s why Michael Jordan is one of the most egotistical human beings on the planet. Oh, didn’t you know? When he was inducted in the Hall of Fame, he spent the majority of his speech talking about how he “might” make a comeback. Everyone laughed, but he was serious. Every few years he practices with “the team,” you know, the awful NBA team that he owns, and there’ s a brief media blitz about whether or not Jordan could cut it in the NBA at his age. Who cares?

These failures of human beings grow up and become famous for their athletic ability. Guess what happens then? Their characters shine through, and they get into legal/ethical trouble. Contrary to the stereotype of athletes getting a free ride, there are actually two separate reactions this athlete can receive.

1) He can get a free pass and everyone can turn their head. Remember that time Ben Roethlisberger raped half a dozen women? Yea, me neither.

2) There’s a huge feigned moral outrage. Everyone sheds a tear of bullshit, and the athlete is figuratively crucified in the town square.

Look at Michael Vick. He killed dogs and made chump change from it. He killed a dog?! OH MY WORD! Listen, it’s sad, sure. Is it worth a prison sentence? Hell. No. Michael Vick was sent to prison because a bunch of overweight soccer moms got up in arms at the thought their fluffy might have been killed by Michael Vick. Yea, people actually said, “what if it were your dog?!” If my dog is a freakin’ Pomeranian, I’m finding it hard to believe that Michael Vick will jump in my window at night and get him.

Need I even bring up Plaxico Burress? He was another NFL star who caught a couple years in The Pen because… wait for it… HE SHOT HIMSELF. Yep. You heard it right. He got sent to prison for being the idiot that actually shoots himself.

As for being role models, screw that. If your kid only has some coked out NFL/NBA/MLB “superstar” to look up to, I recommend you unglue them from the idiot box and start being an actual parent. These are not the people who should be teaching your children how to act. If they are, I sigh at your existence.

Music Belongs to Those Who Make It!

Today’s music artist isn’t a prostitute for a bloated music company (also known as, The Man). Today’s music artist releases their own music and relies on viral marketing and word of mouth to build up the buzz. The difference between today’s music industry and yesterday’s is very simple: The internet has made massive advertising campaigns outdated.

Before the collective breath of the internet, before this inhale and exhale of cultural information, it was impossible for a music artist to get their music to the entire country. It costs thousands, if not millions, of dollars to launch an advertisement campaign. No individual artist or small, independent publishing company could cover those costs. Artists were forced to sign the contract if they ever wanted to make it into a studio. This basically meant they weren’t making any money from their CDs, but they cleared checks doing tour dates.

Thankfully, My Precious (the internet) has solved that problem. As an upcoming music artist you can use free websites like youtube, twitter, and blogger to build yourself a career. You have the power to make a video that can be seen by millions, and you can do this for free.

Take Amanda Palmer as a perfect example. If you don’t know who she is, perhaps you ought to spend more time plugged into the brain drain, eh? Palmer has made a successful career off of giving her songs away for free. She has her own blog, and she develops her own marketing campaigns. For instance, her most recent Album, Amanda Palmer Goes Down Under, had a little marketing tool attached to it that involved designer panties. She sent out a message on her blog for her fans to create AFP (Amanda Fucker Palmer) Panties that she could wear on stage while touring. The results? Well... Feel free to check out the mouthpiece of her latest album, Map of Tasmania! She wears a lot of the "user submissions" in the music video


It’s true that the sell-out cookie-cutter hacks (Justin Beiber) still exist, but think about where that kid was discovered? Usher was jonesing for some talented little boy to live vicariously through, and he found this little boy to stalk on youtube. The rest is history, right? PS: I wonder how many times Usher has shown Beiber “The Usher Abs?” Ugh. That relationship is creepier than Father O'Flannigan and his harem of alter boys.

The point is that there has been a power shift on whose opinion matters most. Of course the consumer still tops the list. The democratization of information is ever-stronger with the internet being the driving force behind many careers. However, unlike years past, the musical talents are the ones who get to choose how big they become. Every video they upload, every blog they write, every song they release for free, is putting them one step closer to getting picked up into the collective consciousness that is social media.

This is the No Spin Zone! ...but not really

Bill O’Reilly and Keith Olbermann are two overpriced anger-junkies looking for a reason to stroke out. Both men are millionaires, making a living off incendiary and incessantly obnoxious rebuttals of political strawmen.

Let’s briefly cover the history of these two fellows, shall we? O’Reilly is a phone rapist, having spent many a night calling coworkers to discuss what he’d like to do with their private parts. In 2004 he was sued by a lady who just couldn’t take his constant verbal assaults on her vagina. Let’s be honest with ourselves. What sort of sane person could tolerate the sound of his voice long enough to have a normal conversation, let alone have one about the intimate business of love-making. O’Reilly is a creep. Oh, and in case the occasional sexual harassment doesn’t tickle your fancy I present you with the O’Reilly Freakout.



Check out that hair. Donald Trump is so jealous! The size of that man’s head is astounding.

Then we have Keith, king of pedantic condescension. If I have to listen to one more whiney rant about how Republicans are destroying everything, I’m going to vomit in an envelope and mail it to MSNBC. Or maybe I should be mailing it to the unemployment line, as Keith was recently fired from his coveted position of being almost as big of a schmuck as Bill O’Reilly. You may have noticed above that I mentioned the sound of O’Reilly’s voice as one of my reasons for disliking him. If you can stomach it, listen to a minute of this:



Do you hear that tone in his voice? It’s saying, “I’m better than you.” Do you see the little squints of self-righteousness in his eyes? That’s him being utterly convinced of his cleverness. Keith just has this innate talent to be condescending. Everything he says makes me feel like someone ought to throat punch him.

I hate O’Reilly because I walk away from his show feeling like my molester uncle just tried to give me advice on how to pick up chicks. He reeks of back-alley pervert. I hate Olbermann because I feel like the guy honestly believes he’s the smartest person on the planet. He’s the dude who sits at bar and lets everyone know that he read a book today. Hey. hey you. I read a book. It had 600 pages! It was entitled, Twilight. You can’t even read, can you? You silly Republican.


My point is this: Journalism is dead because nobody watches journalists. Nobody cares much for the hard facts anymore. As much as I’m disgusted with the ear-piercing drone of these two men, I know some of you read this blog and thought, “Well I think [insert name here] has some really good ideas! He don’t take no crap!” No, blog reader. Both of these men make a living off of being assholes. Their entire job is to be annoying. If sex sells magazines, angry obnoxiousness sells political commentary.

Jersey Shore: Making Douchebaggery Fun!

I try to resist, but on occasion I can’t stop myself from dipping my feet into the puddle of sewage that is the Jersey Shore. We’ve all heard the trite decrees that reality television reflects the downward spiral of our civilization. Blah. Blah. Blah. Haughty academics and bitter fast food employees alike whine about the fakeness of “reality” T.V. They talk about the genre as if it’s the final straw on society’s morbidly obese back. Screw that, man.

Don’t get me wrong, I really hate the Teen Moms. I want to vomit every time someone says, “I just can’t do this!” on Made, but let’s be realistic here, blog reader. It’s hard to resist a drunken oompa loompa getting punched in the face. Yea, you know what I’m talking about. When Snooki from Jersey Shore took a swift hook from some Guido, you laughed. We all laughed!

I know more about the physics of that punch than I do about how the earth revolves around the sun. I bet you didn’t notice that the guy next to her also got hit with the same wallop, did you? The gravitational force of that Guido’s fist drew in unsuspecting pedestrians.

What I’m trying to say is that there are certain events that we just can’t miss. I’m sure there’s some sociological theory about the collective consciousness of man and whatnot, but I’m not a freakin’ sociologist. I write blogs, and this blog is about why you should accept reality television into your heart. You drink alcohol, you might smoke cigarettes, and it’s pretty likely that you’ve at least tried some other stuff. All of these things kill your brain cells, so why do you do them? I’ve got the answer for you right here; you do it because it’s fun. Reality TV is the perfect opportunity for you to turn off your brain and have fun vicariously.


Oh, The Situation got herpes? That silly goofball! The stoned couch potatoes laugh. The ambitious executives cackle. The soccer moms smile as they eat another chocolate bar. Reality TV speaks to inner five year old in all of us. We like watching other people act like fools because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

For me, it’s the fist-pumping douchebag. For you, it might be some breeding adolescent. For someone else, who knows. The point is that everyone has a reality show that helps them escape from their own reality. Instead of trying to analyze it, let’s just tune in and space out.

Newspapers: Paper Mache or Toilet Paper?

Let's be honest folks--the only thing newspapers are good for is creating those creepy paper mache gifts. You know, the ones you give your mom for her birthday so you can avoid buying her a real gift. I've been saddled with the tree-killing fluff-jobs that are newspapers for a large portion of my life. My mom and dad both loved to sit quietly at the breakfast table and thumb through those coarse ink-stained pages. I couldn't stand it.

Don't let me confuse you, sir or lass. This isn't a tutorial on how to make paper mache. I mean, you use water and flour in a certain combination, but I don't care if you ever exercise your creative license. My only goal here is to let you know that newspapers are officially classified as the walking dead, and you should abandon them immediately.
The New York Times, The Washington Post, and even the Dundalk Eagle are all a bunch of aging dinosaurs refusing to accept the sweet death. Dylan Thomas wrote about fighting the dying of the light, but I can tell you without a doubt that once the lights go out it's time to get your ass off my couch and go home. Newspapers are like that lonely friend that stays just a little bit too long at your apartment. I'll walk outside in my Dr. Pepper pajamas and find a slew of ink-blotched dead trees laying in my yard. I still get newspapers delivered to my house even though I don't pay for them. They're giving away coarse toilet paper! Hurray.

Maybe I'm being a little acerbic. Listen, it's not that the paper doesn't have useful information. It does! Unfortunately, I can get that same information for free every time my fingers crap out a thought into a google search engine. Why do I need newspapers? Why do you? I'm positive that once the older, newspaper-reading generations start to die off we can finally be rid of the entire business. Then society will look back on this experience with mocking glee. Ha ho ha, those silly old farts used to waste thousands of trees a day printing drab crap! What were they thinking!

Newspaper subscriptions are declining. Advertisements are increasing. Content is thinning. Fear is fattening. As the Beatles once said, let it be. Time is always pushing us forward. If you can't keep up, prepare to be trampled in its wake. Don't get caught up in the decay that is this aging medium. You're reading this blog because you know that anything worth reading is on the internet. You're reading this blog because your heart is telling you to move on. You've been good to us, Newspapers, but it's time you take a long, lonely walk into a recycling bin.

Magazines are Brainwashing You to be Stupid

Ugh, magazines.

Never has there been a medium that more deserved the sweet death. Instead of covering the more specific failure of magazines, that they propagate bad body-images, I wanted to address the issue of what magazines offer the general public. I’m of the belief that magazines offer very little in the realm of positive qualities. They make you feel ugly, you read them on the toilet, and you really gain no deep intellectual understanding from their content. Consider every Cosmopolitan you’ve ever read. If pleasing your man is all that’s on your mind, I stand corrected, but what are the odds that you’re a vain sex-bot in search of your next master?

As I was carousing the Rite Aid magazine isle, I came across Men’s Journal. With a macho motorcycle on the front, I peeled back the cover in hope of finding the key that would unlock my inner man. Instead, I found this:
What other facet of the media is so insecure that it’s trying to justify itself? If magazines weren’t in danger, why would they feel the need to tell everyone that they’re growing? Does television run advertisements to let everyone know that television is important? Does the internet spam you pop-ups telling you how wonderful the internet is? Of course not. As you can see in the picture, “the appeal of magazines is growing.” I ask you, my blog readers, what is appealing about a magazine? Half of the pages are advertisements. A third of the pages are cheaply written quips that a child would find amusing. There is a song, a not-so-safe-for-work song, that has the lyrics, “read a book…read a book…read a…” I’d recommend that everyone choose the internet or novels for their entertainment or news needs, as I personally despise magazines. Even the texture of their pages Is offensive.