Fatherhood

Right now, I am holding my six-day-old son as he sleeps and dreams, presumably, of boobies.

The Supreme Court, Rosh Hashanah, and Underpants Poker

You may be asking yourself this very moment, "Gee, Bear, it's been six weeks since you've posted anything - what gives?" Let me tell you something: Blogging is really hard work. I've been sitting at my computer for weeks now struggling with the next snarky comment, made up factoid, meaningless statistic, or whether to fall back on the Hollywood Infotainment Media Conglomerate Cocksucking, or Spirited Refutation of said Cocksucking. I can't even mine my old posts for a nugget that screams out for deeper exploration. Not that I'm opposed to nugget exploration, mind you, it's just that my published body of work leaves a lot to be desired. Not that I wasn't busy, with the needs-much-work Master's thesis, teaching with a new principal looking over our collected shoulder, and the eagerly-awaited impending fatherhood. How can you blame me? You guessed it: Underpants Poker. Sounds much more perverted than "online poker playing," ya? "Gosh, Bear. I bet you're just saying that. You're not really in your underpants, right? You've showered and dressed like a respectable citizen and are merely going for a laugh - or a disturbing image, right? Right?!?" Well, no. I am most certainly in my underpants. Imagine that, a blogger in his underpants. In the middle of the day, sitting right here in my underpants with little guitars all over them. Points for matching the guitars with the faded blue of my t-shirt? How about points for listening to the "Family Guy: Live in Las Vegas" album on my mp3 player? What, a dog singing a love song called "Dear Booze" isn't funny? Who are you, Jackie Mason? And that brings me to my point. God bless the Jews. Or G-D. Whatever, I've got the day off. So what if I have thesis work to do - reading Casper Weinberger's memoir in my underpants is worse than anything else I've thought about all day - except that thought of my pregnant wife wearing a French-maid outfit, sans caleçon, and dusting the living-room. Actually, that's a pretty great thought. Do they make French maid's outfits for pregnant ladies? I know I can't find one (by the way, there was a 20 minute gap between those sentences while I frantically googled - see I wanted to type the link for my wife to conveniently click on, but I've been foiled. I did find this, though, which I like much, much better. This is what goes on inside my head, folks. Sometimes perverse, always entertaining. Speaking of perverse, how about a Supreme Court nominee with no judicial experience? Sweet Jesus. I'd say the shrub has lost his mind, but I'm pretty sure there wasn't much up there besides Karl Rove's radio transmitter. Where's the Democratic Evil Genius? Rove needs an enemy. Even Maggie Simpson had the baby with the one eyebrow (name? Gerald. Yes, I knew that without looking it up). I nominate myself. Everyone always told me when I was six years old I'd make a great dictator. Why not? Oh yeah, weed and porn. No national operative status for me. Of course, if you listen to my friend D., court decisions won't mean much after the weather has its way with us. ("It's all about the water, man! Water, not oil! Do you really believe we'll have the energy resources to desalinate the fucking ocean?!? Maybe turn the water off when you brush your teeth." I told him I brush my teeth in the shower while I'm waiting for the conditioner to work). Back to the court, I don't trust this woman. I don't trust any woman who appears to have gone without orgasm for forty-two years, and neither should you. I say, if you can't picture a Supreme Court nominee bumping and grinding covered in Bosco on the kitchen floor, then they can't be on the court. Yes, that means you Ruth Bader Ginsburg, you sly minx. No discussion. Who needs voting records? Apply the "Bosco Kitchen Tile" standard, and the court will be your friend, protecting civil liberties and interstate commerce all the live long day.

Random Thoughts

Commercials with louder volume than the program don’t fool me. When was the last time you bought something because you saw the commercial? Which is less likely to work: a car commercial or one for a feminine hygiene product? I try to make it a point to never buy anything with an obnoxious commercial. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Can you think of a better host for “Wild On” than Tara Reid?

People who voted for Bush still think he’s doing a good job. Just thought you needed to know that you’re surrounded by staggering ignorance wherever you go.

Next year I get to celebrate my first Father’s Day and that’s a fucking fantastic thing.

I miss Dave Chappelle.

How many of the world’s redheads have orange hair?

Pocket Jacks are not nearly as good as you think they are.

A few thoughts on technology: 1) I, for one, am really glad we don’t have flying cars, 2) What are the odds that the first realistic robot will be a sex toy? 3) Yes, I love technology, though not as much as you you see, but I still love technology.

I know steak doesn’t digest and that it just rots in the colon. I still don’t care.

Reading up on the BTK killer; are there any serial killers that don’t go through some elaborate rituals to relive their crimes?

Pretty sure that Earth is the Arkansas of the universe.

I love beer. Beer is great. As Ben Franklin once said, “Beer is proof that God loves us.”

I wish my Christopher Walken impression was better.

The Aristocrats is very, very funny.

“Fuck” isn’t really as offensive as it used to be until you travel outside NYC. Cunt is still offensive everywhere, which makes it a great word.

You know where Jesus would be if he came around today? Bellevue.

I wish weed didn’t make you hungry.

Time travel is never going to happen. Why does this make me so disappointed?

“Increased security measures” don’t make you any safer. You know who had really awesome security measures? Germans. The NKVD did a wonderful job in the Soviet Union. Freedom means that some people are going to do stupid things and that might fuck up other folks just going about their business. It also means that people get to have their own opinions and beliefs. If someone with a giant flag stuck to their truck tells you you’re a “freedom hater,” rest assured it meant the exact opposite.

Speaking of cars, putting on a sticker on the back doesn’t mean you support the armed forces. Actually getting them out of the way of bullets and explosives seems a trifle more supportive if you ask me

The Greatest Show on Television

While browsing along on the information superhighway, I stumbled across the nominations for this year's Emmy awards. Now, I consider myself an avid television viewer. Some who know me would say that avid is an understatement. In any event, I noticed that the nominations for drama series were, for the first time, all shows I really liked. None of the five is really the best - I'll get to my own top five a little later.

First, Deadwood. Personally, I feel that Deadwood went downhill this year. It seemed like the shows writers were more concerned with period dialogue exposition than actually moving the plot along. Imagine eavesdropping on a conversation on the subway, only they're talking in a 19th century dialect. Interesting to hear at first, but ultimately pretty boring since people talking about stuff is never as good as watching stuff happen. I hung in there week in and week out, patiently waiting for plot developments that never came. Al's illness was just hard to watch - if someone told me I could watch a show where someone pisses blood, I'd sure as hell tune in - it just hurt to watch. The season finale was solid enough to keep me tuned in next season. After all, anytime I can watch a show that has someone swinging from a self-fashioned noose over the railing of a whore house, that's just high quality television.

24 lost some standing with me this year. Eventually, one of these terrorist plots should succeed. Jack Bauer is so good at his job, we should probably send him to Iraq. Extra points to Fox for the 'no rerun' season. Excellent work. The networks should take note and use this for all their shows to stall the inevitable collapse of network television and the permanent fragmentation of the American audience. But they won't.

The West Wing has taken the same turn to melodrama that ER did a few years back. Alan Alda did a great job, but it was too little too late. The show is done. Will I watch next season? Yes, I will. I'm a politics junkie and need my fix somehow. American politics is too goddamn depressing to follow anymore. If anyone is curious to know how our nation will turn out in the end, I recommend Edward Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Special interests, foreign wars that never end, ignorant leaders, and a public that only cares to be entertained. Sound familiar?

Now for the most depressing hour on television, aside from the news: Six Feet Under. Jeee-sus. Why not just show puppies being put down in the county shelter? Running loops of Dachau footage? Back-to-back episodes of Yes, Dear? As horribly difficult as all of these would be, it's not Six Feet Under. It's just not fun. Who would have thought a show about a mortuary running family would be so depressing?

My vote for the best of the nominees? Lost. Fantastic. Great premise - even taking into my penchant for disasters. My wife and I were hooked within the first five minutes. We're watching the second run episodes after we missed the first run and decided not to try and catch up mid-season. We don't know anything about what happened and we are keeping it that way. Will it win the Emmy? Has a good chance. Should it win? No. As a matter of fact, there are a number of shows that weren't even nominated that are waaaay better. What might they be? Glad you asked. Here are my nominations for the best shows on television, in descending order:

5) 2005 World Series of Poker, ESPN: First, let me point out that I play poker. I play all the time. Even in a poker room in the nicest of casinos with beautiful waitresses bringing you free Heineken, poker can be excruciatingly dull. The fact that ESPN gets better ratings from these than NHL games is beyond me. Hence, my nod for one of the best shows on television. 300 lb. guys with mullets on a sports station, and unlike NASCAR, they're not in the audience!! Wonderful.

4) Dead Like Me, Showtime. I can't believe this was cancelled. Original, funny, sad, well-acted, interesting. Actually, that's exactly why it was cancelled. No fat guys with hot wives in the suburbs. No wacky kids or neighbors. No contrived drama. I guess it never had a chance. My biggest regret is that we'll never know what happened to Rube in his old life, or whether Mason and Daisy ever get to have hot corpse lovin'.

3) Cathouse, HBO. Now now now, don't get all "that ain't a drama, that's reality show,' yada yada yada. Have you ever heard of a prostitute who was anything BUT an exceptional actress? Besides, NAKED BOOBIES! That's enough, dear reader, for me, and it should be enough for you. Air Force Amy is a real life barbie doll. Sunset Thomas is a walking encyclopedia of sex. Isabella Soprano? My wife doesn't see anything in her, but I think she's hot. Girl next door hot. Not really model hot, but there is something about her. Nice body - real woman body. You know, not some kind of genetic mutant model who smokes cigarettes instead of eating properly. Nice butt. Real ta-tas. Infectious laugh. Tries a little too hard to be funny. Perhaps, just maybe, it's that she sucks cock for a living AND talks about it on TV!!

2) The Price is Right, CBS. There is a moment on every show where someone wins a big prize. You can see it as long as the camera angle is right. On the player's face is an expression of pure joy. No worries, no concerns, no fear, not even the realization that they probably can't afford the taxes on their prize. Pure joy. It's the kind of thing that you can see in an infant. Rarely, if ever, do you get a chance to witness this expression in adults, and that's why this show gets my nomination. Plus, Bob Barker is an American Icon. He's still kickin it at 82! Fantastic.

1) Maury, various: The absolute trashiest, most bottom feeding hour on television. This show makes Jerry Springer look like Walter Cronkite. Now, there is speculation that much of this show is completely scripted, and I believe it. I've seen guests play different roles on different shows. That's why I'm nominating this for outstanding drama. The paternity tests have to be seen to be believed. When that tenth guy tested is told, "You are NOT the father," and the woman (or girl) runs backstage crying, oh, man, it's magnificent. It's just the most disgusting and vile display of greed, trashiness, promiscuity, and an hour-long advertisement for birth control. How can any Republican see this show and still not want condoms distributed in schools? You'd think Congress would pass a law giving out condoms on street corners. I would personally donate money to buy some of these girls norplant. It's impossible to turn away. The episode where the man who used to be a woman proposed to the woman who used to be a man? I teared up. It was just, well, perfect television.