"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain. We're going to be heading back to the gate because the flight attendants have reported hearing a loud boom from the back of the aircraft."
If I were a cartoon character, right now I'd be Bill the Cat.
ACK!!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Gubmint Idiocy Personified
What is it with the geniuses at the TSA?
At the the Delta terminal at LaGuardia Airport, after you have checked in electronically and indicated that you will not be checking bags, tried futilely to convince the halfwit line monitor that you are an experienced traveler and should be in the speedy short security line and are directed stonily to the "Non-english-speaking family of six with eight suitcases and twelve carry-ons," after you have patiently waited for them while they ransack their bags to get rid of all of their half-consumed bottles of Poland Spring, when you finally get to that little steel table and load your one bag, laptop, and shoes into their individual bins under the bovine gaze of yet another future burger flipper in a cheap gray blazer, you push your bins about five feet to the belt, where the potbellied guy in front of the monitor yells loudly enough for the burger flipper to hear "PUT YOUR SHOES DIRECTLY ON THE BELT!"
I ask you, would it be so hard for the moron at the beginning of the table who watched you and every other passenger put your shoes into a bin (remember, in this "post-9/11" world, we are conditioned to remove our shoes and PUT THEM INTO A BIN) to tell you, as you did so, that you shouldn't PUT YOUR SHOES INTO A BIN?
Maybe I'm cranky because I got up at 3:30 to catch this 6:00 flight to Cincinnati,but Jesus Jumpin Christ on a popsicle stick! I mean, really.
F-in retards.
At the the Delta terminal at LaGuardia Airport, after you have checked in electronically and indicated that you will not be checking bags, tried futilely to convince the halfwit line monitor that you are an experienced traveler and should be in the speedy short security line and are directed stonily to the "Non-english-speaking family of six with eight suitcases and twelve carry-ons," after you have patiently waited for them while they ransack their bags to get rid of all of their half-consumed bottles of Poland Spring, when you finally get to that little steel table and load your one bag, laptop, and shoes into their individual bins under the bovine gaze of yet another future burger flipper in a cheap gray blazer, you push your bins about five feet to the belt, where the potbellied guy in front of the monitor yells loudly enough for the burger flipper to hear "PUT YOUR SHOES DIRECTLY ON THE BELT!"
I ask you, would it be so hard for the moron at the beginning of the table who watched you and every other passenger put your shoes into a bin (remember, in this "post-9/11" world, we are conditioned to remove our shoes and PUT THEM INTO A BIN) to tell you, as you did so, that you shouldn't PUT YOUR SHOES INTO A BIN?
Maybe I'm cranky because I got up at 3:30 to catch this 6:00 flight to Cincinnati,but Jesus Jumpin Christ on a popsicle stick! I mean, really.
F-in retards.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Been Awhile and I Don't Have Much Time Now...
So I'll be brief:
* Got the bronchitis that took me down for a full week -- we're talking stay at home, feverish, quarantined by the doctor sick. All better now, and still smoking.
* My Pens won the Cup! And apparently the Cup spent some more time in Mario Lemieux's pool, AGAIN. And as evidenced by these photos, Evgeni Malkin at age 22 hasn't yet learned that there are parties where you can take your Russian stripper girlfriend, and there are parties where you come alone. Geno! You don't take the Russian Stripper Girlfriend to a party at your boss's house!
* On the Pens front again, someone snapped this photo of Sidney Crosby SLEEPING with the Cup:
And I ponder: If you are 21 years old, and quite possibly the best player in the world at your sport, and you are captain of the Stanley Cup-Winning team, and you pass out in your bed, shouldn't you by all rights have at least two naked girls in there with you and not a 35-pound hunk of tin? This thought caused my fellow hockey-loving pal Ed to tell me that I think like a guy. But he said it like it was a good thing.
* Pens again, one more thing: FUCK YOU, MARIAN HOSSA.
* Got the bronchitis that took me down for a full week -- we're talking stay at home, feverish, quarantined by the doctor sick. All better now, and still smoking.
* My Pens won the Cup! And apparently the Cup spent some more time in Mario Lemieux's pool, AGAIN. And as evidenced by these photos, Evgeni Malkin at age 22 hasn't yet learned that there are parties where you can take your Russian stripper girlfriend, and there are parties where you come alone. Geno! You don't take the Russian Stripper Girlfriend to a party at your boss's house!
* On the Pens front again, someone snapped this photo of Sidney Crosby SLEEPING with the Cup:
And I ponder: If you are 21 years old, and quite possibly the best player in the world at your sport, and you are captain of the Stanley Cup-Winning team, and you pass out in your bed, shouldn't you by all rights have at least two naked girls in there with you and not a 35-pound hunk of tin? This thought caused my fellow hockey-loving pal Ed to tell me that I think like a guy. But he said it like it was a good thing.
* Pens again, one more thing: FUCK YOU, MARIAN HOSSA.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Brooks Orpik puts a Hurtin' on Marian Hossa
...oh... what? ... oh, was I really just dreaming? The Stanley Cup Finals don't start until Saturday?
Dang.
I am very, very, very excited that we are getting the grudge match I've been wishing for, if only because of the possibility of the carpetbagger Marian Hossa NOT getting the cup he carpetbagged his way over to Detroit for. Hossa is the Roger Clemens of hockey, and I hope Crosby and Malkin wipe the ice with him and that Brooks Orpik finishes him off. Since the Pens don't have Ruutu and Laraque anymore, Orpik's the closest thing the Pens have to an enforcer. But since he's getting up there in years (ready for the glue factory at 38), I'd hardly even call him a pest (a type best defined by Rangers closet-case Sean Avery); Orpik has become more, well, pesky. So if we have to have any sort of physical hockey during the finals, I hope it's Orpik on Hossa. (There was a rolling-around-on-the-ice fight during last night's Wings-Hawks game, and it was kind of refreshing to watch). Maybe it'll get old school and we'll see Chelios and Orpik go at it. Yeah!
You may find this hard to believe but hockey has gotten more, ahem, gentlemanly. Sigh. Where are the cementheads and goons of yesteryear? I like when the gloves come off and things get rough. It's part of the game. You remember that old joke, don't you? I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out. Badump-bump! Chhh!
And speaking of the old-school hockey, take a look at Chris Chelios reminiscing about his favorite old coach:
Pittsburgh v. Detroit, Game 1, Saturday night, May 30th.
I'll be the one at Lansdowne screaming, "Englewood Jack! Englewood Jack!"
Dang.
I am very, very, very excited that we are getting the grudge match I've been wishing for, if only because of the possibility of the carpetbagger Marian Hossa NOT getting the cup he carpetbagged his way over to Detroit for. Hossa is the Roger Clemens of hockey, and I hope Crosby and Malkin wipe the ice with him and that Brooks Orpik finishes him off. Since the Pens don't have Ruutu and Laraque anymore, Orpik's the closest thing the Pens have to an enforcer. But since he's getting up there in years (ready for the glue factory at 38), I'd hardly even call him a pest (a type best defined by Rangers closet-case Sean Avery); Orpik has become more, well, pesky. So if we have to have any sort of physical hockey during the finals, I hope it's Orpik on Hossa. (There was a rolling-around-on-the-ice fight during last night's Wings-Hawks game, and it was kind of refreshing to watch). Maybe it'll get old school and we'll see Chelios and Orpik go at it. Yeah!
You may find this hard to believe but hockey has gotten more, ahem, gentlemanly. Sigh. Where are the cementheads and goons of yesteryear? I like when the gloves come off and things get rough. It's part of the game. You remember that old joke, don't you? I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out. Badump-bump! Chhh!
And speaking of the old-school hockey, take a look at Chris Chelios reminiscing about his favorite old coach:
Pittsburgh v. Detroit, Game 1, Saturday night, May 30th.
I'll be the one at Lansdowne screaming, "Englewood Jack! Englewood Jack!"
Sunday, May 24, 2009
American Muscle Car
Hate to break it to you, guys, but my brother has a cooler car than yours. He bought it new back when there was still leaded gas, and he was a championship autocross driver. Can you imagine one of today's overfed white guys buying a new American muscle car and actually putting it through its automotive paces? He keeps it in storage nowadays, preferring to tool around Pittsburgh in a ratty white truck while doing his sprint car racing on the weekends, but every now and again he unwraps it for the envious to admire.
Now THAT's a badass car.
Now THAT's a badass car.