Perfection

Congratulations to Tony, who incredibly picked the entire Indy 500 field exactly correctly.

1. Some dude
2. Some dude
3. Some dude
4. Danica Patrick
5-33. Some dude

At least I think so... maybe my analysis of his pick is somewhat hampered by the fact that I don't know any of the drivers.

So you're saying there's a chance...

Warning: There will be math at the end

I just got back from a quick trip to Columbus this weekend.

On my way down, I had my Ipod plugged into my car stereo, and was just listening to songs randomly, on "shuffle".

To properly set this story up, I need to explain that my Ipod has a couple thousand songs on it-- basically anything and everything I, or anyone else (former roommates, girlfriends, etc.) ever cared to download in the great heyday of Napster, Bearshare, and everything else. These songs are a bizarre assortment, to the point where I recently had it on "shuffle" and heard in order: Bruce Springsteen, Snoop Dogg, Jay-Z, Nelson, Notorious B.I.G, Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Dexy's Midnight Runners, Nas, and the theme from ESPN's college football coverage. The point is that there's a lot of shit on there, and it's all over the map.

Back to our story; I planned to stop in the lovely town of Rossford, as there's both a gas station and a Tim Horton's there. This town also doubles as the Have You Met Tony ancestral home.

As I was about a mile from the exit, my Ipod began playing the familiar and comforting opening strains of the Lynard Skynard (and karaoke) classic, Freebird. Certainly a song with a strong connection to Tony, who I used to sing it with on damn near every weekly karaoke night at the "Regal Beagle."

I stopped, and left the Ipod running. Minutes later I got back in, turned the car on and was still making my way back to the highway when Nelly's Air Force One came on. Those who know Tony know that one of his greatest achievements in life was actually appearing in the video for this song. (He's easy to pick out-- he's the only white guy in a sea of hundreds of people)

These are easily the two songs that most make me think of Tony (except maybe for Firehouse's Love of a lifetime-- long story).

I didn't know what to make of that, but assuming that there's 2,000 songs on my Ipod, I would guess the chances of either one of those playing at any given time is roughly 1 in 2,000 (excluding factors like song length, which would obviously make a song like Freebird slightly more likely to play. So if the chances of either one of those playing at those particular moments are 1 in 2,000, my statistical training (A- in Stats 201 in college, beeeyotch!) tells me that the odds of both songs playing is 1 in (2,000 x 2,000), which is 1 in 4,000,000.

This is either an astounding coincidence, or some kind of sign from God.

Probably the first one.

Unlikely.

You're telling me this guy has to grossly sexually impose himself on women?

Stop it. Women should be throwing themselves at him.

The fact that he's from Toledo (Maumee, actually) just makes it better.

She's faking it.

This story made me laugh.

Between the thought of Mrs. Krabappel watching the Fuzzy Bunny movie, and the "Engrish" skills of the guy at the Mr. Sparkle plant, it was a moment rich with Simpsons memories.

We're all gonna get laid!

I haven't read The Onion in a couple months, but this week's issue was pretty funny. This article in particular made me laugh out loud a couple times.

And as always, What do you think? was entertaining.

Glenallen Hill's spiders have company...

Worst. Injury. Ever.

Carlos Zambrano from the Cubs has a sore arm from spending too much time on his computer. Riiiight... he's e-mailing his "brother."

I can't wait to see him on the NL injury report. Zambrano, CHC: Day-to-day (chronic masturbator's elbow).

Do you think we could get them to name the condition in his honor?

Like ALS is now "Lou Gehrig's Disease", Chronic Masturbator's Elbow could be "Carlos Zambrano Syndrome."

Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuuuddddddgggggge...

But 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 I got canned from my job as a New York TV reporter because of it.

Dumbass.

Looks good on you, though...

They were handing these beauties out at the Tigers game I went to last weekend. Unfortunately they were only for the first 10,000 fans or so, and I got there too late. Too bad, I would have enjoyed that free bowl of soup.

(sound of me holding my breath)

This news plus this old post equals "Nervous time" for me.

If he goes down for any extended period of time, it's officially football season in my household.

May the force go screw itself...

I know that as an American, I'm supposed to join the mob of perpetually-single dorks, nerds and socially-unfit dingleberries racing out to theaters at 12:01 tonight to see the latest George Lucas mess.

Here's the problem: I don't care that much. The first couple movies (the old school ones) were good. Not "cream your jeans" good, but okay. I went to see the first new one a few weeks after it came out and it sucked. Bad. I still haven't seen the second one, and have no immediate plans to see either it, or the new one.

It's something like the "Matrix" trilogy; I loved the first one, the second one was basically the same director and same cast trying to milk another 90 minutes out of the same special effects they used in the first one, and I still haven't even considered watching the third one. It has actually been on my Tivo at home for six months or more, and I haven't even started it.

Maybe people should stick with making two movies in a series.

Think about it: The Godfather Parts 1&2, Vacation/Christmas Vacation, even the original Star Wars trio (see: rant in Clerks about the Muppets in Jedi). They all had a couple good to great entries, followed by crap.

The only notable exception I can think of was the Indiana Jones Series. That was nails from start to finish. They'll ruin that one with the new episode (coming soon).

Asshattery

This is one of those stories where the phrase "douchebag prudes" doesn't quite cover it.

Go Who?

A new study confirms what we already all knew: teams that wear red kick ass.

You've ruined the act, Gob...

According to this report from E!, Fox is going to renew Arrested Development for a third season. The official announcement is scheduled for Thursday.

In the words of Abraham Lincoln, "Dude, that's pretty fucking sweet!" ***




*** NOTE: This joke shameless ripped off directly from Sugar, Mr. Poon. But it's okay, because it's funny. (In case you care, the specific post was this one.)

Go team! We're number one!

One year after I saw this on my honeymoon, it still makes me laugh.

Me winning isn't. You do.

I got all excited about the possibility of killing three minutes at work with a Caddyshack quiz today.

I was more than a little disappointed at the fact that A) half the questions were about bullshit from the people's real lives, and B) the retards who put the quiz together f'd up the answer to the first question.

I got everything movie-related right, as I expect most of you will as well.

(insert George Michael reference here)

From Newsblues:

COLUMBUS COVER UP

Yesterday, we told you that Michael Gormley, 40, a freelance reporter for Columbus NBC O&O WCMH-4, who also teaches broadcast reporting at Dayton's Central State University, had been charged with public indecency and abusing harmful intoxicants, after he reportedly committed a sex act in front of an undercover cop in Dayton.

In a story that appeared in Tuesday's Dayton Daily News, Columbus News Director Stan Sanders said Gormley worked at WCMH in August 2004 as a freelance reporter. "He worked for us in the summer," said Sanders.

Turns out, Sanders lied to the newspaper.

Insiders say Gormley worked at WCMH until early this week, filling in during staff vacations and illnesses.

Sanders ordered Gormley's bio removed from the WCMH website after he was contacted by a Dayton newspaper reporter. The page remains cached on Google.

(end of article)


Somehow, the fact that he listed "I'll eat just about anything" in the section for "favorite foods" sums it all up pretty nicely, I think.

Double-U... EEENNNNNNNNN.... B.... C...

Man, they are just making a huge freaking mess of things at WCMH (the NBC O&O in Columbus).

Supposedly, The Other Paper is supposed to do some big expose about a recent blowup involving the long-time weatherman and the universally-loathed news director.

The station has made "News Blues" three times this week alone for other incidents, including a former reporter (Mike Gormley) exposing himself to a cop in a park, and firing the weekend anchor (John Ivanic) who was popular enough that he managed to turn a losing Monday-Friday newscast into a 7-day winner because the weekend ratings were so good.

Oh yeah, and they're getting absolutely buried in the ratings this month as well.

Unfortunately for the poor people stuck there, things aren't going to get any better until they can the asshat in the News Director's office. The only solace comes with the fact that, at the rate things are going, that could come any day now.

Pist-on

A word (or a few hundred) on the NBA playoffs:

I've never been a tremendously big fan of the NBA. I like college ball, but the NBA game has never really grabbed me, simply because the players are openly loafing for at least the first 43 minutes of every regular season game.

When I follow the NBA, it's usually just during the playoffs, and it's almost always limited to the time when the Knicks are still participating in said playoffs. Other than that, I don't really care.

I got a little bit into the Pistons' run to the championship last year, but that was based primarily on the fact that A) I live just outside Detroit, and B) My wife got really into it because she's from South Detroit (aka Toledo) and has always liked all the Detroit teams.

I did not however, band-wagon on to the extent that I bought a championship T-shirt, hat or any other piece of merchandise. Nor did I attend the championship parade, or refer to the Pistons using the first-person at any time (i.e. "We need to put more pressure on the Lakers' inside game...")

This was strictly the same kind of semi-emotionally detached rooting I did for the Patriots (my brother's a fan) in the Super Bowl and for the Red Sox last fall (I know a million long-suffering Sox fans back home). It's also the same kind of rooting I did for Calgary during the last Stanley Cup playoffs I think we'll ever see (I'd rather see Canadians celebrating than a bunch of old people in Florida).

This year, I'd be happy to see the Pistons beat the Pacers and move on to the Eastern Conference championship round. There, I'd like to see them lose to the Miami Heat. Why? My good friend works for the Heat, and stands to make a boatload of money in the form of a guaranteed bonus if they win the NBA championship.

My wife was aghast when I told her that I would be pulling for the Heat if it came down to Detroit and Miami; "You liked the Pistons last year!"

I tried explaining that my attachment to the Pistons was extremely limited (I don't even like living near Detroit, besides I already have a team, and neither I nor anyone else I know closely stands to benefit in any direct way from another Pistons title) but she wasn't buying it. Maybe I should just be grateful that I'm married to someone who's interested enough in sports to get stirred up about stuff like this.

Number 32 in your programs, but number one in a little plastic cup...

Onterrio Smith!

Move over, Ron Mexico.

There's a new name at the top of my wish list.

(And yes, I had to remove a "z" to make it fit on the back of the jersey)

Ike still loves you, baby

I realize that I've been treating this page with about as much care and concern recently as Andre Rison has been treating his kids.

Hopefully, that will change now that the worst of the workload from my second (still non-paying) is hopefully over. Although I think we all know it's not.

I think I'm in danger of falling below the threshold of Little G "I'm slipping in and out of a coma"-level posting, all the way down to Jim Norton "I died three months ago, but no one has found my body yet because the transvestite hooker I paid to laugh at my jokes ended up killing me, putting my remains through a wood-chipper and dumping the chunky pieces far out to sea"-level posting.

Just to let you know, I'm still alive. And I haven't heard anyone running a wood chipper, either.

Good times.