I’ve always held the opinion that God hates the Yankees – and by extension their fans. Now I have evidence. On Friday night – with the Yankees desperately hanging on to a 1-0 lead over the Cleveland Indians – God made a statement. A swarm of gnats descended on Yankee reliever Joba Chaimberlain – effectively distracting him enough to allow the Indians to score the tying run. Three innings later the Indians scored again to seal the victory and take a commanding 2-0 lead in the best of five American League Divisional Series. I’m no Biblical scholar but I am aware that at some point God sent locusts, frogs, burning hail, and rivers swollen with blood against the Egyptians for enslaving the Hebrews. So it only makes sense that He would send gnats against the Bronx Bombers. The Yankees have established a reputation of pride and excellence in their nearly 100 years of existence. But those days are over. This isn’t your father’s, grandfather’s, or even great grandfather’s Yankees. These Yankees are a hodge-podge of over-paid and over-the-hill individuals. Their combined skills manage to win them about 90 games a year – enough to get them into the playoffs – but their lack of unity has left them without a World Series title since 2000 – despite outspending every team as well as several small Central American nations. Just like the Hebrews were held captive by the Egyptians – Yankee fans are held captive by the mismanagement of Steinbrenner and Cashmen. Doesn’t it occur to you Yankee fans out there that “The Boss” is making a ton of money, the players are making a ton of money, but you – the loyal fan – you get to pay $8 for a Coors light in a plastic bottle and to watch a bunch of selfish (with the exception of Jeter, Possada, and maybe Rivera) individuals play a team sport. If I were you – and thankfully I am not – I would boycott Yankee Stadium – not only in protest but also as an act of self preservation. Who knows what sort of smiting God has in mind for the Yankees next.
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All posts for the month October, 2007
Cats are phenomenal creatures. They are intelligent, ferocious animals which spend a great deal of their time relaxing and keeping themselves clean. They are self sufficient in many different climates, and are the only completely domesticated animal that can make the transition back to the wild successfully. Per pound they are stronger than dogs and horses, they comprise the fastest 4 legged animals on earth, and can kill a variety of prey twice their size with retractable, razor sharp claws and jaws strong enough to crush bone.
The most stunning attribute, however, is the “Cat Algorithm”. If you have owned a cat or been around a cat while moving something, you know what this is already. Let me explain, for you dog lovers who are amazed by “chew expensive shoes” and “shit on the new carpet” tricks.
A cat is able to calculate the precise location of each step you take before you have even made that step, and move to that exact location. The Cat Algorithm only comes into play, however, if one or more of these pre-requisites are met:
- You are walking and not paying attention to the ground below you.
- It is night time.
- You are carrying something messy, cumbersome, heavy, or a priceless family heirloom.
- You have recently had Lasik corrective surgery.
- You are trying to sneak out of the house without your parents/girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife hearing.
- You are going up or down stairs.
Even more remarkable is the fact that the Cat Algorithm increases in speed and accuracy as additional conditions are satisfied. For example, your chances of stepping on a cat in the dark will be much greater if you are carrying a large bowl of steaming, hot tomato sauce than if you were not. This rule also applies to multiple cats, as each successive attempted step can induce an additional cat in your walking path.
The Cat Algorithm was first documented in 1837, after French tightrope walker Jean Piot fell to his death attempting to span the Eiffel Tower and a helicopter. Piot was seeking to break the record while juggling a running chainsaw, an iPhone, and a bowl of Cinnamon Life cereal with milk. Three minutes into the walk however, Jean’s cat appeared suddenly on the rope in the exact location of his next step. Piot, stepping on the cat, lost his balance and fell to his death. His cat however, landed on his feet, and then killed a mime which had been mistaken for a large fugitive mouse. This same cat would later lead the French army into victory in the War of 1812 against zee Germans. Kraut bastards.
So you ask…Ruko, what are we to do?!?!?! Do not fear my friends, as the FDA has just announced that a cat safe Quaalude will be available as a means of drugging your cats to retard this algorithm. In the meantime, be sure to watch your step and think twice about moving furniture up stairs at night.
Cheers.
If you have ever taken a night class, or even worse a Saturday class, you will know exactly why I have taken time out of my life to write this rant. There is nothing more annoying than a “continuing education” college student. A continuing education student is one who is not of typical college age, or in other words – OLD! For some reason or another they did not complete their degree when they were in their 20′s. There are an infinite number of reasons for this – but typically it has to do with a prison stint or the popping out of a few crack babies – or both.
But I digress – the point is not what got them where they are – but how they handle it. The last thing I want to do in class is listen to the fucking life story of some forty-something, trailer-trash bitch that has decided on a mid-life career change from crack-whore to college educated crack-whore. They always find a way to manipulate the lecture to their advantage. If the topic is the Reign of Queen Mary of Scotts – her hand shoots up immediately to discuss her ex-boyfriend Scott who currently resides at Attica for playing hide the sausage with a middle school girl. If the lecture is on Jim Crow she will tell you that that motherfucker Jim still owes her ten bucks. You may think these examples are exaggerations – which they are – but what you are about to read is a real story.
On the first day of an evening 100 level history class the beleaguered professor spent a solid half an hour explaining to a woman that yes he was a doctor but no he did not work at the hospital during the day. She thought a PHD was a competitor of KFC.
The only thing worse than having one or more of these people in your classes is being forced to do group work with them – or even worse – being forced to peer edit one of their papers. I was once forced to read “Betty’s” paper on the nuclear attacks on Nagasaki and Hiroshima. In addition to the poor grammar and apparent lack of any sort of spell check option on her Commodore 64, she referred to the people of Japan repeatedly as “Japs“. I pointed out that this might be taken as a bit racist. Betty took this critique in stride – she looked my straight in the eye and said – with not even a slight hint of humor – “well I didn’t think it would be right to call the little bastards Chinks.” I told her she was absolutely right – Chinks would be inappropriate – I told her to go with Zipperhead instead.
About 3 years ago I burnt my mouth on a cup of extremely hot coffee. I had stopped into a local coffee shop, and without thinking about it took a sip of the coffee without letting it cool off first. You have all undoubtedly burnt your mouths before, so you understand me when I say that it Really. Fucking. Hurt. The worst part of burning your mouth is that you are unable to eat anything for several days afterwards, without some severe discomfort (discomfort like the time my roommate put Tabasco sauce in my masturbatory lubrication without telling me). Anyways, moving on.
Coffee is like pornography: most people like it enough to enjoy it daily (or sometimes many times a day). Everybody has a different preference, and there are always those people that are strongly against it for no good reason. The bottom line here is that Americans love their coffee. And porno. Moving on.
When I recently read that coffee temperatures will rise another 9 degrees on average in major cafes and coffee chains, I sit back and ask “why the fuck for??” Isn’t coffee hot enough? Well apparently not. I can only assume that my level of coffee enjoyment has not increased to the point where coffee too fucking hot to drink is enjoyable. Call me crazy, but I don’t mind when the coffee is at a temperature that doesn’t remove the skin from my mouth. I know those Pro-Mouth Skin activists are annoying as hell with their picketing and little signs, but I have to agree with them here. If I wanted to destroy the skin in my mouth, I’d swish with bleach for 40 seconds.
Back to my original point. The reason I burnt my mouth so badly was that I did not know that the coffee had been freshly brewed at “surface of the sun” temperature setting. The reason I didn’t know the coffee’s temp because it had one of those trendy little “I’m a posh fucktard” cardboard sleeve over the cup. Its purpose is to keep your hand from getting bur…wait, wtf, if the fucking coffee is hot enough to burn my hand, how the fuck is my mouth supposed to withstand it? Does this make sense to anybody?? I don’t know about you guys, but the skin on my hand is a lot more fucking resilient than the skin in my mouth (unless I just had a Herps outbreak…those scabs are like fiberglass insulation for the mouth without the itching!)
As a preventative measure, I suggest that coffee manufacturers provide cute little cardboard sleeves to fit over your tongue to prevent initial combustion from exposure to the 7 million degree liquid. The smoldering cardboard will add a bit of a nut-like finish, similar to the ever popular Tim Horton’s Oak Barrel Aged Smoked Salmon flavored coffee.
I think I am on to something here.
