Saturday, September 29, 2007

Witz Pickz: Beating Urban Culture To the Punch!

All I can say is





"Is this like when you tried to get people to start saying, "What's the tick-tock?"
"Kind of...."
"Or when you tried to start saying 'This night is gonna be BUCK" for a crazy night?'"
"Hey, I'm still trying to get that one started-- that one's cool."
"What does it even mean?"
"You know, buck wild. Goin' buck."
"I see, that's kind of good."



Friday, September 28, 2007

Witz DOESN'T Pick: That Sprint Commercial

I've kinda had it with the Sprint Commercial-- you know the one. It's the one where the guy is talking over the scene of glow stick lights in a park with people. And he says, "What did you dream about when you were a kid? Was it to go into space? Maybe you wanted to fly?" and then he drops the bomb, "Or maybe you dreamed of a magical glowing device that could store all of your music, photos, and email, along with making phone calls, while fitting into your pocket."

NO! Sorry, Sprint, but you went too far. Nothing against your products, but NOBODY in the EFFING UNIVERSE dreamt of that as a child and you should know better. First of all, when most people who can afford the phone were children, they didn't have mp3's, digital photos, cell phones, or email and NOBODY was dreaming of those capabilities, let alone some device that could mobilize and consolildate all of those things in your pocket. Secondly, THAT'S SUPER LAME AND DESTROYS AND DEMEANS THE IDEA OF DREAMS. People dream about being able to do things like YES, go to space, or YES, fly, or make movies, or build skyscrapers, or invent everlating candies (but not the gobstopper due to copyrights already in place). THEY DON'T dream of organizers and phones. What baffles me is that anyone at spring thought that the flow of the commercial didn't sound inadvertently hilarious. It's only slightly better than saying, "Maybe you dreamt of space, or flying, or maybe of a hybrid chimpanzee/zebra that could run for hours and swing from branches, averting all obstacles while still encompassing the sense and spirit of fun that chimps exhibit while throwing their feces." Only slightly better. I've seen the commercial too many times, and Sprint needs to do something to change-- they do have a great 7pm cell phone free minutes policy though-- so check that out.

Witz DOES Pick!:

Suave Shampoo: Ya know, I bought Suave for it's low low prices, and I might have even mentioned it before as a good cheap alternative for shampoo. But, it was only recently that I decided that I do, in fact, feel more suave after using it. I mean, after showering with suave, I towel off with just a little more shake in my hips and confidence in my eyes. When I look down and see my suave collection of excess hair gathering in the drain, I almost chuckle with the knowledge that I have just suaved myself and lessened other men in the eyes of the ladies of the world. Sometimes I feel almost too suave-- like when the two-in-one shampoo conditioner makes it so easy for me to take showers quickly that I'm able to ignore the fact that neither the conditioner nor the shampoo actually seem to be having any effect whatsoever on my hair. But hey-- fast showers are suave. It's like, "OMG-- he showered so fast, he must be really dextrous to wash that quickly-- do you think he has less body fat than other guys who take longer to shower due to the amount of body fat they have to wash?" Knowing I shower with Suave gives me that extra something in my stride that I think is noticeable, if only subconsciously. And for 2 dollars a bottle-- that's a great value.

Survivor Blog Avid Reader/Enemy: I'm apparently developing a hate-hate relationship with one of my readers. This person seems to loath me and everything I write, but reads on a weekly basis for the last two seasons. What's baffling is that their primary function seems to be to correct me and point out things I missed or forgot. Recently, their function has been to hate on my jokes and ideas by not recognizing them as ideas. It's astounding. It's like if one of you commented that Suave shampoo is not actually that good and hair in a drain ISN'T actually sexy. Oh-- thanks. It's as though the entire concept of misinterpreting things amusingly or for the sake of a joke and the idea of taking what material is available and using it for humor is completely foreign to this person. I don't know what to make of it, but they keep on reading, so I'm pretty excited. Here's a clip:


The next thing we learn is that Leslie is going to do her damnest to fulfil my dislike for her. Leslie is the Christian Talk Show Radio Host in South Carolina. Here’s the quote of the night after she turns and WALKS OUT OF THE TEMPLE because she feels uncomfortable: “I’m not a religious person, but I have a relationship with Jesus Christ.” ….….((whisper)) Leslie…baby…got news for you—you ARE a religious person, and it’s ok to admit it.…I mean, COME ON! I’m not a religious person, I just have a relationship with Jesus Christ? Are we thinking about the same Jesus Christ or does she know another because as far as I know, Jesus Christ exists as a spiritual being and not some dude on the corner of Main St and MLK, Jr. Blvd. That’s like saying, “I’m not a baseball player, I just play first base for the Dodgers and get paid for it 162 games a year.” I HOPE she is a religious person, otherwise there’s a propped up corpse lying around Leslie’s home that she chats with and shares her popcorn with Weekend At Bernie’s style.

I also mentioned that one of the tribes had a "dope shelter"


Maybe Leslie's meaning was "I'm not a religions fanatic but..."
DOPE shelter?

Anyway, I think this is gonna be a lot of fun in the coming weeks, and while I realie that example wasn't the grandest of differing opinions, there's some more backstory and just take it as one example in a long line of corrections and grievances.

So that's all for this week. Check back on Monday when I will hopefully have the wherewithall to keep the streak of posts alive-- either way, I got to use wherewithall (probably incorrectly) and am excited for that-- so why don't you get excited for me? Keep checkin the podcast link on the right as I will keep adding radio broadcasts with punk, hip-hop, and indie tunes, along with the glory of radio banter. Plus, then you can read these posts with my voice in your head, like Grey's Anatomy only better, The Wonder Years only worse, or How I Met Your Mother of equal quality.

Pimpin' Ain't Easy (Especially When It's Yourself-- Example: Hey Baby, You Want Some of This Bitch? This Ho? I'll Do Whatever I Tell Myself To Do-- Shampoo? Cell Phone Ads? Cinnamon? He's A Pop Culture Slut...I Am...),

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Witz DOESN'T Pick: License Plate Insanity

For as long as I can remember, I've been able to memorize license plate numbers by sounds or phrases. For example, I STILL remember that when we went to Disneyland in fifth grade, the license plate on our RENTAL car was PUF-6OU. I remember because I thought of it as Puf-six-oo, and if I'm not insane, I also set that phrase to the tune of "Matilda! She take me money and run Venezuela!" which was one of the songs we were singing in music class at the time (Puf-6-oo: She take me money and run Venezuela!). So I remember license plates. Sometimes they rhyme (one of my friends had a car 8_1-GUN which was awesome in the rhyming and the GUN factor-- I left the _ blank because somehow I feel I shouldn't be giving out license plate numbers). For whatever reason, I remember license plates a lot more than I imagine most people do.

Another thing I've done forever is turn license plate letters or numbers into phrases or words. I don't know if this is because of some literary OCD or because I was an English major or because one time my Dad said, "Don't forget that license plate!" about some guy who was speeding or cut us off or was driving sketchily and now I remember all plates momentarily just in case. I don't know why I do it, but I do it, and I bet a bunch of other people do, too. For example-- if a license plate said 6HT4ML, I'd probably immediately think "Hate Mail". Or if it said "2SPCL9" I'd think "Special." It's like that thing where they figured out that if the first and last letters in words were correct, people can read whole paragraphs with mispelled words. I fill in the blanks. I can't help but do it and I'm pretty ok with it.

That is, until recently, when MY OWN license plate numbers have been devolving into stupid word soup that lingually bothers the hell outta me. You see, FIRST I had my car on the east coast. The license plate was 7_4-JYT (_ omitted because I probably have an outstanding warrant on that license plate in NY State). It was easy to remember 7_4 "Jit". It had a good rhythm to it in my crazy, word addled mind. I was used to it. THEN, I moved to Seattle and got a new license plate (after months of deliberation). This time, I knew I wasn't happy: _48VQT. For obvious reasons related to my OCD License Plate Words Thing, I hate Q's, X's, and Z's. Very few words work with them (although I'd be ok with WTZPKZ-- oo, maybe I should get that.) in forming real words, and I'm forced to make everything straight edge or "no longer", i.e. 25XLW4 -- that's either 25 straight edge lawyers or 25 Former Law 4 (

There's a Law 4 on your head).

I did, however, slowly get used to _48 VQT. I got used to it to the point where I could remember it, and then realized that thanks to the lettering of WA in the same was as other east coast states, the 3 number, 3 letter setup was intact. This made it easier to ignore 048 and remember VQT as either "Very Quiet" or "Very Q-uTe." I figure, since my car is a beast in it's old age and since 3 mechanics have failed to fix the rattle I paid for them to fix, that nobody behind me is gonna think "Oh, that car is _48 Very Quiet." No, I'm pretty sure they're thinkin', "_48 Very (Q)Cute." So I got used to the plate and came to appreciate it. UNTIL YESTERDAY!

Yesterday, California took my neurosis and shot it to pieces. I registered my car here, and this is what they gave me: 5ZUP6_ _ (the last two digits are not important and I'm giving out my license plate on the web). WHICH IS TERRIBLE! Let's say it's 5ZUP642 for discussion's sake. Well, first of all, THAT'S 7 DIGITS! WHAT THE EFF CALIFORNIA?? That throws off all my shit. Then, it's 3 letters buried in 4 digits AND IT HAS A Z IN IT. Horrendous turn of events. And then I looked at it further. It sounds like I'm some dude who's trying to be cooler than he is, going around making up expressions to try and get people to like him.

"Yo, Fivez Up!"
"Fivez Up, dude, c'mon!"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Gimme a high five man, you know, Fives Up!"
"That's ridiculous-- you're not that cool and even if you were 'Fives Up' is not going to win me over."
"Did you pronounce that with an S or a Z?"
"The 'Fivez.' Was that with an S or a Z in your mind? 'Cause it kinda felt like an S..."
"It was an S...."
"Yeah, cuz really, it's more of a Z. FiveZ up...."
"Is this like when you tried to get people to start saying, "What's the tick-tock?"
"Kind of...."
"Or when you tried to start saying 'This night is gonna be BUCK" for a crazy night?'"
"Hey, I'm still trying to get that one started-- that one's cool."
"What does it even mean?"
"You know, buck wild. Goin' buck."
"I see, that's kind of good."
"Remember when 'clutch' became popular?"
"That was odd."
"And you didn't invent hand-hockey -- the basement sport was invented by millions at the same time every generation-- It was an act of the Collective Unconscious."
"You agree?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
"Yeah, fives up, dude! ((hand in air))"
"You're an idiot."
"Fucking DMV."

SEE! See what's gonna happen!? Fivez up is not cool! But I'm gonna have to use it or my license plate is worthless. Or I'm gonna have to use "Zup" a lot like "hey man, zup?" and that's stupid. Or start an Italian/Greek restaurant named Zup that sells soup. This is my world. And my license plates are getting worse with time, and I'm probably gonna have to get another not too long from now, but until then, I have to deal with this-- this 7 digited demon of a plate. Just remember, you're probably just as crazy as me, but in other ways. Do you care what color your bath mat is? Do you feel the need for extra strong toilet paper? Do you sleep without a pillow? Or with only a comforter? Do you momentarily consider online and magazine offers before rejecting them? Ever shopped for a Siamese Cat (attached) because you wanted two kittens, but could only afford to feed and immunitize one, so you want a cat that is attached to another cat and they share one stomach and immune system? See-- you're crazy too.

Fivez Up, Bitches!,

Witz Pickz: The Glockenspiel, Queso & More

That's right kids and gentledults, I'm pickin' The Glockenspiel-- and ya know what? Eff it-- I'm not just picking The Glockenspiel, I'm picking: The MIGHTY Glockenspiel. Why mighty? You ask? Well, because if it wasn't mighty, then I'd be picking The Xylophone, wouldn't I? Or more accurately: The Mean-Spirited Xylophone! Due to its size and intonation, The Mean Spirited Xylophone has ruled elementary school music rooms and spelling bees for decades-- maybe even centuries. I mean, when you were little, in music class, after not getting the drum, did you reach for The Xylophone or the Glockenspiel? Xylophone, of course. And what did X stand for in third grade when explaining the sounds "X" could make? XYLOPHONE! What were the other options? X-hibit was still years from being famous, and Zeitgeist is ACTUALLY spelled with a Z. Xeroxing was prevalent, but certainly not by small children, as opposed to the XYLOPHONE. I'm thinking that classroom teachers and music teachers had a secret plot to push the xylophone upon children and the xylophone went right along with it. BUT-- we're not here to talk about the Xylophone. We're here for the Glockenspiel.

The Glockenspiel has battled furiously, if not subtlely, over the years, and has emerged as the Numba One bar-and stick-with-rubber-ball-on-it instrument in popular culture. The Shout Out Louds use a glockenspiel to dominate their audiences, and Mozart utilized the Glockenspiel far more often than the xylophone in his symphonies (call me on that, I fucking DARE YOU). And I know you all are like, "Not to mention that Buddy Holly song, right?" which is exactly what I was thinking when I started this post, but NO, it was in fact, not a glockenspiel OR a xylophone, but a celeste, which is like a glockenspiel piano. Wikipedia, however, does say that the celeste is most similar to a glockenspiel and makes no mention of that outrageous, mean-spirited xylophone. Given The Mighty Glockenspiel's size (or lack thereof), it has had many uphill battles to win, and has done so (I mean, I assume). When referencing the noise these instruments make, I have not once said "xylophone" and nobody I know has either. It is always "glockenspiel." Plus, you can refer to it as a glock, which is badass. Saying, "yo, I'm on the Xylo" sounds like a white guy trying to act like a black person unsuccessfully, while "Yo, I'm on the Glock" sounds like a white guy trying to act like a black person fairly successfully. These are the subtle differences of life. Well done, you small, instrumentally specific device.

Chips n' Queso: Not chips and cheese, people, Chips and (preferably n' though & is also acceptable) Queso. Not nearly prevalent enough in our society, Chips n' Queso are the leading appetizer snack in places like Austin, Texas, and....Mexico. Fritos can't make a comparable dip. Tostitos can't either. It takes the perfect blend of spicy peppers or salsa/chili and melted cheese to create the perfect queso dip. If I only knew a good recipe and/or Chili's chef.

Ziplock bags: Nobody gives ziplock bags enough credit. They're like pillows in that respect, and even more like pillows in other respects if you stuff them with refried beans or marshmallows. These suckers know that I can't finish everything all the time. Cheese, pizza bagels, meats, c'mon, you know what these puppies are for (NOT FOR PUPPIES). I bought like, one bag of ziplock bags a few months ago, and they feel like they are endless. They come in all sizes now and can even fit a loaf of bread. SNAP!

Little Caesars Crazy Bread and Pizza: After years and years of seeing commercials for, but no actual locations of Little Caesars, I now live in a place where I have found a restaurant-- if you can call it that. Little Caesars is a lot like Fight Club. First, as mentioned, they potentially don't exist. Little Caesars does not deliver. If you go to Little Caesars and order a pizza, you will pay 5 dollars. Pepperoni-- 5 dollars. Cheese-- 5 dollars. If there is a mishap with your pizza, Little Caesars will deny all existence and sale of said food item. They also serve Crazy Bread. My Friend With A Pool purchased his first Little Caesars pizza (also, are they possessive or plural? I'm thinkin' plural, but it's hard to recall the commercials), and was baffled when he handed them 5 dollars and was immediately handed a pepperoni pizza. It was like buying crack, apparently, and he felt both baffled and dirty from the exchange. THIS IS WHAT THE CRAZY BREAD IS FOR. The Crazy Bread is packed with numbing drugs to make you feel less shocked by the value. It is also delicious. But, thinking about it, not at all crazy. Or so I thought-- then I realized that Crazy Bread was first invented twenty or so years ago, before Cheese Stix, Papa John's Bread Sticks, or the P'Zone. Cheesey, salty, garlicky breadsticks probably did seem pretty damn NUTS. You can't refer to a product as a Nuts-Stick (ask the good people who make Payday Bars, they know), so they went with Crazy BREAD-- and for BREAD it is still fairly insane. People in the 80's must have been losing their minds, eating Crazy Bread all over the place with no idea what was happening. They probably assumed that Taste Fairies were involved, sprinkling fairy dust aka Secret Seasoning onto their food. No other method would have made sense to them back them. Also, there's a good chance whoever started Little C's was doing A LOT OF DRUGS-- like, Coke, Meth, Crack, Weed, you name it. There general gameplan was that they sell everything at one price, advertise everywhere, exist almost nowhere, not deliver, and sell breadsticks with light flavoring they thought were CRAZY. Then they charged 2 bucks for marinara sauce. Freakin' nuts.

Little Caesars Glockenspiel Jamboree N' Queso (Are Ahead of Their Time),

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


At the risk of getting a google ad for Gay Fat Men With Large Breasts, I'm going to go ahead and pick Pillows. I feel like pillows don't get the credit they deserve, but instead are treated as a luxury we've almost always had. From the time I was born, but not until I was old enough to not suffocate myself on one, I've had a pillow to sleep on. Sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes an obscure combination of foldovers and additions until my neck and body all fit perfectly into sweet, comfortable slumber.

I've tried sleeping without pillows, and ya know what? It sucks! If you like it, it probably means you're some kind of self-loathing fool. And don't try and pull that "Pillows are actually bad for your posture/spine/Hardcore Level. That rumor has been spreading for years and is totally off-base. I'm guessing it was first brought up by the mattress companies who wanted to be able to talk about how form fitting their mattresses are. "You don't even need those hellish, spine trouncing pillows-- our mattresses meld to your head's curvature to give you the perfect night's rest-- even if you feel like you're lying in a Man Mold and overnight when you're asleep they'll bring down another mattress on top of you to gain a perfect cast to use as a cloning profile......Fuck Pillows." Perhaps the mattress companies started this rumor, but it was obviously the Swedish who kept it alive. Posturepedic, anyone? How about those crazy effing tubular "head rests" that support your neck but potentially cut off blood circulation to your brain? Yeah, those are a treat. I rarely if ever implicate the Swedes in anything (though I'm onto you The Boustedts...and Ingmar Bergman, I can't fathom what you were up to, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't soft and cushy), but this time, it must be done. Swedes Hate Pillows, there I said it. Put it on a t-shirt. Sell it for 15 dollars. Give me 5 of those dollars for every t-shirt you sell and we'll have a good thing going. What I'm trying (successfully, I think) to say, is that the Anti-Pillow Myth needs to be busted and-- oh wait, what's that? Millions of millions of people sleep with pillows regularly and think it's QUOTE "FREAKING AWESOME!!" END QUOTE? Oh, that's right-- I almost forgot. WINK.


Another reason pillows are so undervalued is that they are UNDERVALUED. You can buy a pillow for like 3 dollars nowadays. You can buy a real pillow that doesn't spread all the fluff out to the sides so your head lies on the mattress with a thin sheet formerly part of a stable looking pillow for like FIVE DOLLARS. Pillows are so cheap that we forget how important they are. Unlike extension cords and power strips, I've bought a LOT of pillows, and I'm always like, "Yeah, whatever, I don't know if we need another pillow, but let's get it, it's like 10 bucks for eight of them." And I get home and don't need the pillow and put it in the closet until guests visit. I don't mind spending the money and it's because they are both undervalued and totally worth having plenty of. The next time a guest comes over and is like, "Oh, cool, the couch" I'm like, "NOPE! The couch-- WITH PILLOWS" and then we stay up an extra 20 minutes fiesta dancing because of the pillow, but also because we've probably had a bit to drink and in the wee hours of the morning when I'm a little drunk is most likely when I'm up for a good fiesta dance.

So go be thankful for your pillows. They are tremendous emotional and physical supports, and unless you're a baby (or a baby who wants to add an element of danger to the crib), they are the one of the greatest luxuries in the world.

I Totally Am Gonna Get Gay Fat Guys With Breasts Ads From Google Now Even Though I Wouldn't Have Before Aren' I? Oh God, Now I'm Definitely Going To Because of This.,


Monday, September 24, 2007

Witz Pickz: Favorite Way To Spend A Rainy Day & More!

Filling out an application for the upcoming KZSU Radio Quarter, I came across the question: What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day. That got me thinking, and then it got me writing, and then it got me sad...and then happy...and then confused...and then I vomited (unrelated(?)). Anyway, I thought it was a good question, so here's my answer. What's yours?

What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day? Asking "What's your favorite way to spend a rainy day?" is like asking, "When you're on the moon, what's your favorite sipping brandy?" I'm never gonna be on the moon, and it never freakin' rains in California! Coming down here from Seattle, I need me a little bit of cloud cover occasionally. A drizzle, perhaps-- rain would be a baby miracle. And I've heard that "it rains after Halloween," or whatever, but I mean RAIN-- not God's Piss Shiver, but RAIN. The kind that lets you lie inside all day in your boxers watching Hitch and eating Soft Batch cookies like Trail Mix, because there's no chance anyone is coming over to see you and there's no chance you're leaving the apartment. So yeah, what's my favorite way to spend a rainy day? Apparently slovenly, for one. Watching the superbly non-threatening Will Smith for two. And if I'm lucky, with some tasty baked goods and-- if the fates are with me-- with those Claussen Pickle Halves that only come in the refrigerator section and cost like five dollars a jar, but are toooootally worth it (you know what I'm talkin' bout). That is, if it every rained here. I might as well be shopping for sipping brandies.

Undeclared: Judd Apatow created and wrote Freaks & Geeks along with The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and yes, Heavyweights. He's produced a ridiculous amount of funny stuff including Superbad and now you know who he and Seth Rogen (star of Knocked Up) are. SO, it is totally worth going back and getting the three DVD set of the single season critically loved tv show Undeclared. Undeclared is essentially Freaks and Geeks set in college, only everyone's a little more well adjusted. It's very well done and hits a bunch of key points and subtleties that we probably all experienced in college. When I first saw the show, I was in it for Jason Segul (of Freaks and Geeks, Slackers and now How I Met Your Mother), and the cameos. It was kinda funny. But going back now and watching, once I already know that Seth Rogen is funny, the show is suddenly way funnier. Rogen (wrote Superbad and was one of the cops in it), wrote and acted in the series, and his rants, along with the unaired footage of his rants, are incredible. It makes the other characters more funny too somehow, and some hilarious cameos by Will Farrell and Adam Sandler (as well as Ben Stiller) are great. There is one problem with the DVD Set, however, and that is that it appears as if it was assembled by a group of semi-retarded youth street urchins/orphans. The episodes are out of order...several simply don't exist...and one is on two separate DVD's. Somehow this isn't mentioned on Amazon, but Netflix clearly states which epsiodes are on each disc and I have seen all three discs and yeah-- they ain't right. It's easily the biggest eff-up I've ever seen in professional sales, but it works out because the episodes that are there and mildly (ok, no, agregiously) out of order, are still funny. Check it out.

Instead of posting a third thing here and then posting tomorrow, I'm gonna go ahead and save some ideas up-- it's like I'm maturing in my craft and you all have to suffer for it. Remember, all life is suffering, except for when you're watching Entourage, eating fine cheeses, or WATCHING SURVIVOR 15 AND READING ABOUT IT IN WITZ'S TVFODDER.COM BLOG!, and shameless plugs.

If I Ever Go Bald, I Will Not Get Shameless Plugs,

Friday, September 21, 2007

Witz Pickz: The Red Sox Winning The Division-- A Red Sox Column

Alright, alright, I know that this isn't a Red Sox blog and that a lot of you probably don't care about baseball or the Red Sox-- and you might even like other MLB teams and hate the Red Sox. And I almost felt bad about writing a Red Sox post today...and then I realized...IT'S MY BLOG. I haven't written a sports or Red Sox post yet on this puppy and today I start because:

Today is most important game of the 2007 Red Sox season. They face the Devil Rays who I don't suspect ever thought they would be included in any important games ever. They are named after an animal that has only one recorded kill ever-- The Crocodile Hunter. High profile, but not particularly threatening. I mean, look at the other teams-- The Yankees...killed thousands upon thousands of southerners in the Civil War, not to mention the American Revolution. The Braves-- while unfortunate, Native Americans probably killed more people than sea creatures of the stingray variety. Even the Blue Jays, Cardinals, and Orioles probably account for more bird-watching related deaths than devil-ray attacks. I know for certain that the Milwaukee Brewer's cause more drunk driving and alcohol related deaths each year. But what about the Red Sox, right? I mean, Sox? I will answer you two-fold. Firstly, the Sox were short for Stockings which also aren't threatening. But do you know how the "cks" became an "x"? When the Red Stockings players formed a makeshift militia and fought crime in the streets of the cities they played in. Their socks ran red with the blood of the damned, and they would mark the victims with an X-- like at Passover. ALSO, the original name for the Red Sox was the Boston Americans. And who has killed more people over the years than Americans? The Germans-- you are correct. But we're supposed tobe giving Germany a break these days, so let's just leave it at "The Americans have killed a lotta people and are more imposing than the Devil Rays." SO, to reiterate, nobody thought the Devil Rays would ever play in an important game ever.

And yet here they are. For those of you not in the know, the Boston Red Sox haven't won a division title in 12 years-- or at least, The New York Yankees have not LOST a division title in 12 years. Every damn year they win it. This season, the Red Sox have been in first place since April. They still hold a 1.5 game lead in the AL East, but the Yankees have started playing like robot baseball gods, and are shockingly (unless you've ever followed baseball, in which case, NOT shockingly), only 1.5 back from the lead. The Red Sox have played some of the worst baseball ever. After a rest yesterday, they play the Tampa Bay Devil Rays after losing 2 out of 3 to the Yanks and getting swept by the Blue Jays (who are you scared of? The Blue Jays? The Devil Rays? Oakland? my Friend With A Pool asked me before the Yankees series. YES. ALL OF THEM. THIS IS THE RED SOX-- and it has been). SO DEAR GOD, LET THE RED SOX GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER AND WIN THE DIVISION.

There's no possible way for you to root against the Red Sox on this-- you can say you don't like the Sox, but in this scenario, your only alternative is the Yankees. If the Sox don't win it, the Yanks will, and that's like saying, "I hate that Winston Churchill so much, everyone thought he was all smart and charismatic, but he was just as power hungry as the rest of em. No, I much prefer Hitler." You can hate whoever you want, but rooting for the Yanks if you aren't a Yankees fan is like saying it's better to eat baby cows because they don't have to suffer more by growing up and getting slaughtered-- shit, I knew that would come back to haunt me.

But look, the Red Sox have Josh Beckett pitching tonight-- he's got 19 wins and has pitched far better than that. Problem is, they are going against Scott Kazmir, who is notorious for owning the Red Sox. Plus, Manny, Kevin Youkilis, and Coco Crisp are injured and Ortiz probably won't start. It's gonna have to be Mike Lowell, Jason Varitek, or The Weak-Kneed-Ill-Designed JD Drew who steps up and makes something happen. My money's on Jacoby Ellsbury-- the best minor league player (non-pitcher) I've seen the Sox have since Nomar. I'm actively trying to get my girlfriend to date him-- that's how much I like him. He's freakin super fast, can hit the ball to both sides, and as a bonus, is the first Navajo Native American to make the Majors. That instills faith in me somehow, though I've been told that is racist, but it's the good kind of racist-- I trust the Navajo-- their culture of spirituality and oppression instills a confidence in me. They are a plains people-- swift-footed and keen of sight. Evolution and cultural accoutrements still count. Plus, I got to say accountrements, and that's pretty sweet.

Despite the hardships, I believe the Red Sox WILL win the division. Up until ten minutes ago, I didn't. I knew they'd lose it. But you know what? Eff it. I'm going for it this time, and I think they can pull it off. I've used the "Lost All Hope" reverse voodoo juju too many times-- starting with "There's no way Jeff Frye is going to get a hit" right before his game winning single in some game way back when, all the way up to "Not a chance in hell Julio Lugo is gonna get a hit. This game is over" comeback a couple of weeks ago. For those who don't know, Julio Lugo is about 4 ft. 2 inches, with a look on his face when batting that says, "What's this guy gonna throw me? He's gonna trick me isn't he? I can't believe it-- he's gonna trick me! What's he gonna throw me!?" And yet he hit a home run in the 4-3 loss the the Jays the other night. Anything is possible, that is why sports are incredible and emotional, and worthwhile. Tonight, the Sox play the Devil Rays in the biggest game (but not the only one left) of the season. GO SOX.

Also, watch Friday Night Lights when it comes back on-- it's a great series if you like sports or teen drama at all and it starts back up October 5th. Apparently it's in danger of getting cancelled soon, so support it.

I feel better,

P.S. Here are some The Onion links involving baseball or the Yankees, which are amusing and cheered me up dramatically:

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Witz Pickz: The Lost Room, Foam Soap, 3:10 to Yuma

Here are a few pickz for today, none of which make me sound cool:

The Lost Room: a mini-series from the Sci-Fi Channel, The Lost Room did quite well, but obviously lacked the mainstream success ratings to get picked up. The mini-series is complete on its own, but is open ended at the end so it COULD become a regular series if it was picked up. Starring Peter Krause from Six Feet Under and Juliana Margolis from ER Version One Decade One, The Lost Room explores a mystery revolving around a motel room which mysteriously disappeared in 1961. There are objects that have powers scattered around the world that once belonged in the missing room. "The Key" is the object the main character finds and it leads him into the missing room where he can go anywhere he wants from. It sounds kinda ridiculous and lame in explanation, but it was fantastically executed and definitely worth checking out the two dvd's at blockbuster (as long as you can handle the clerk). Plus, since watching it, I like to imagine that their USED TO BE another room in my apartment that somehow became "lost" and THAT'S why I'm paying the absurd amount of money for a tiny one-room (aka "two room minus one lost room") apartment where the "landlord" constantly yells at us for things and never fixes anything (aka "on campus"). You can see how effing nuts some people are about this show HERE.

Foam Soap: I know, I know, welcome to 2007 Witz, but have you tried this stuff? For so long I've avoided washing my hands because it was such a hassle to rub my hands together and create lather, but NOW-- well...NOW I try and wash my hands as often as possible just to feel that velvety softness of the foam soap. I'll bake something ONLY so that I can wash my hands beforehand. Sometimes I wash my hands after a meal, THEN PEE, and then have to wash my hands AGAIN. "Oops." Currently, the best part about foam soap, however, is that I can pretend it comes from The Lost Room and is some magical item I never have to refill-- this is because my girlfriend always buys it and restocks it, so I have no idea where to purchase foam soap, nor how long one bottle usually lasts! Speaking of which-- my hands are getting a little germy from these keys....

3:10 To Yuma: A remake of an older movie (see how that works), I didn't know what I expected going in and yet it definitely wasn't what I expected. It was, however, a really interesting movie, and I left the theater glad that I saw it. Since, I have been thinking about the film more and more, and it has already sparked actual conversation between myself and friends. Starring Christian Bale and Russell Crowe (in his best acting role in years), let me say that 3:10 to Yuma is NOT an action movie. It's an artsy western that explores themes of good/evil, self-respect, love, and morality-- and it's all very well done. Having said that, it's the best slow movie I've seen in years. The film is based on a short story by Elmore Leonard, which was surprising to me, because it felt more like a Cormac McCarthy style, but maybe that's what the director was going for. Regardless, only the ending disappointed me, but I'm not sure that it could have ended in a way that would be satisfying. The ending is in the rest of the film, and not necessary to the piece as a whole. Everything that needs to be taught or seen happens beforehand, and therefore is a letdown when something is shown. If The Sopranos hadn't pissed off millions of viewers, I think this one might have ended similarly, and, in this case, it would have worked. Check it out and let me know what you think. Also, read what this other guy named John thinks.

That's all for this fine Thursday, some funny, some info, and some ways to spend your money.

Please Please Please let the Red Sox Sweep The Devil Rays,

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Witz Pickz: Compassionivore

An omnivore by species, I have always thoroughly enjoyed meat. Recently, I've occasionally replaced normal products for vegetarian or vegan products just because I wanted to, not because I stopped eating meat or animal products. I've been having some veggie sandwhiches instead of turkey, veggie burgers instead of hamburgers, soy milk instead of regular milk. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a fact. Recently, while out to dinner with a friend (with his business paying), I tried a new kind of meat: veal. IT WAS DELICIOUS! Granted, it was stuffed with mozzarella and ricotta cheese and topped with an amazing broth, but the meat was tendera and flavored and delicious. I felt, however, a little odd, and I felt a little odd because I like the fact that I eat about three and a half animals (chicken, turkey, cow, and very occasionally pork), and was not happy about adding DEER to the list. I'm not one of those people who is excited to try new meats like buffalo or rabbit or duck or armadillo, or goat. I like the big three and a half. So imagine my great joy and sense of freedom when I found out that VEAL is not VENISON as I'd been thinking in my head, but actually BABY COW!

"Oh, thank goodness! I thought I was eating deer, but this ended up just being baby cow!"
"Yeah, but it's a BABY COW!"
"So it's like eating a baby."
"Not a real baby-- a cow baby."
"Still a baby."
"Nuh-uh. A real baby watches The Doodlebops and sleeps spread eagle in her parent's lap."
"Oh, you think you're all hot to trot on baby knowledge just because your friends had their baby, Tova."
"So what is this really, like a shout out to Tova?"
"Kind of, I guess...whaddup Tova?"
"And how could they name their baby Tova in a post-Jay Z world anyway??"
"They didn't know about Hova."
"They didn't KNOW about H to the Izzo?"
"I guess not-- the lyrics were beyond them. The word puzzle was too much."
"Or maybe they just spend more time working and less time listening to pop radio and shopping than you do."
"Who are you anyway? Who is this other person/voice? In the words of, whadafxup?"
"Fine. Be that way-- ((ahem)) a baby cow would too watch the Doodlebops if given the chance."
"That's more like it-- ((ahem)) No it wouldn't. That's not their way. They would only be bored and have the days drag on and on until we finally--"

AHA! And there it is. Baby cows only do one thing-- grow up to be regular cows. And REGULAR cows are packed side by side into stalls and warehouses waiting to be slaughtered. And then they DO get slaughtered. SO WHAT KIND OF A LIFE IS THAT?? AND HOW LONG do they actually grow up for anyway? I realized that by eating baby cows, I am doing the cow a favor. I am saving them a life of horrors even though they don't know it yet. I am being compassionate. Which is why I have figured out a NEW form of consumer-- a Compassionivore. A compassionivore eats only baby animals and other vegetarian products. The problem is, I can't think of other baby animals that we eat. Do we eat baby chickens? Baby pigs? Baby Ahi Ahi Tuna? Not that I know of. Which makes it weird that we eat baby cows (but less weird since I know how delicious they are). So maybe compassionivores need to step up and start eating more young. Break into the chicken farmery and eat all the baby chickens. Break into the turkey hut and eat some young lithe turkeys. Eat a fawn, shit, I dunno. I guess technically this means baby seal meat is back on the table, but maybe it'd make more sense to club and eat the baby seal HUNTERS since their lives are probably wracked with misery and guilt (and probably some emotional disconnect from the world or at least baby seals...which is just as bad). Compassionivore's rise up and momentarily be a fad, the time is now.

Wi to the tizzle, Z to the comma

Friday, September 14, 2007

Witz Pickz: Worst Blockbuster Clerk EVER!

I've been around long enough to learn the accepted norms of clerk/customer interaction. I've bought my food, rented my movies, ordered my BK and Burgermaster, accepted my airline peanuts, checked my savings balance, paid the pizza delivery guy, and awkwardly stood by while some guy pumped gas into my car (you are a confusing beast, Oregon gas pumping laws). And all of the interactions, while different, generally followed the same procedure-- me being treated like a customer, and the clerk acting like a clerk-- even if they weren't happy about it.

So you can imagine all the cultural and social learning I had to get past to figure out what the hell was going on at Blockbuster the other night. I was waiting in line like normal to rent my last The Lost Room dvd (to be picked soon), while the clerk helped a woman get a new blockbuster account. The line grew and grew while we waited, and another clerk came over to help. The first one took a look at the line and then said, "Nah, don't worry about it, I've got it," and turned his attention back to the woman filling out the application.

This should have been my first clue.

Slightly confused, I figured the woman must almost be done. So we all waited. And waited.

"I don't have a credit card right now," the woman said.
"Oh, that's alright, just show it next time, I'll just look at your driver's license now." says clerk.

This should have been my second clue. This man was not going by the book-- he was wingin' it. Freelancing, perhaps? I became wary as I wondered if this man was also some kind of bounty hunter, and by seeing a driver's license, he could track down and demand payment from anyone in the state...or'd be surprising given his slim, one might say, awkwardly The Machinist looking thin, frame, but I guess it was possible. Do bounty hunters work day jobs until they get good enough? I guess I never thought about it before, but are there nearly enough bounties out these days for the hunters to all collect? And how many are half-vampire? The whole thing confuses me.

The guy finally finished up with the lady, she headed out, and the next woman in line was ready to go when-- The pointer finger came out. No words, just one finger held up to indicate "Wait." The clerk hops on the phone and sounds like he's talking to someone important. It goes on for a bit, but when he finally hangs up, he says, "Alright, then I'll swing by around 12 and I'll bring the xbox 360." And then he glanced at us like he was the fucking champ. And he might have been, but it was not the time or the place. I started getting my annoyed on, as I am wont to do in such situations, when he said it:

"Yeah, come on," he tells the girl who's been waiting-- like she's ruining his night. Like he didn't just make a personal phone call and tell another clerk not to help us. "Yeah, come on." This is when it hits me. The clerk has absolutely NO RESPECT for us customers. We are not there to give his company money. We are there to keep him from his night of BioShock or Halo 2 (to prep for Halo 3), or Gears of War. He has kids in Lansing, Michigan lined up to get their asses handed to them via Madden '08, Monster Storm, and Splinter Cell. We are just lame, one-directional entertainment fools who need to see their movies, television dvd's, or completely inexplicably even to me, purchase their "The Number 23", "Red Line", and "Ghost Rider" DVD's three for 20 dollars. He's the man and he has no respect for people like us.

The girl goes up to rent the DVD's and this is when The Clerk takes things to the next level.

"I don't have a card, but I have my ID and my parents have an account." Right. We know this method. For years, with your ID and family account, it has been possible to rent movies. Only-

"Your family's account doesn't have your name on it, so you can't use it without their permission." Blank looks all around.

"Oh. Really? I thought....I usually use it...."
"Are they here in the store?"
"No, but-- Ok, well, I'll just come back another time."
"Are your parents home?" None of us are quite sure what's going on, but we're getting uncomfortable. The girl is probably 16-18 years old and mildly attractive.
"Uhh, yeah..." The clerk picks up the phone.
"What's the number?"
"Are they awake?"
"I dunno..." It's ten o' clock on a thursday.
"Well, what's the number, I can call them and ask for permission."
"Uh, that's ok. Thanks.
"It's not a problem, I mean, I can call them and just ask if it's ok..."

WHOAH BUDDY! DON'T BE A HERO! First of all, WHO DOES THAT?? The line is growing longer by the minute, he's already complicated the process for her, but now he wants to CALL UP HER PARENTS AND ASK IF IT'S OK?? They weren't even R rated movies, it was like Blades of Glory and Bridge To Tarabithia or something. BUT CALL HER PARENTS? It's ten o' clock on a thursday. I wouldn't even call some of my closest friends' houses at ten o' clock on a thursday, let alone some stranger to ask if their daughter, who clearly should be in bed so she can go to school the next day, can rent some movies. Plus, he came off a little flirtatious, which was odd under all the circumstances, but especially because of his former hating of us all. Which brings me to this:

Know your creepy level. Everybody has one. Maybe it's reallllly high and obvious or maybe it's reallllly low and subtle. But you have one. This guy was probably an 8.4 (out of 10). Most people probably fall around 3 or 4 (which means the scale maybe doesn't need to go to 10, and should be adjusted so the median number is the median creepy). Some people are sneaky creepy-- like you think they look all clean cut and nice and do good things, but then they are, like, the only one in the theater who laughs at the snuff film scene in "8mm" (and this is not only because they were the only ones in the theater to see 8mm, they probably got more obvious creepy points for that). This guy was not sneaky creepy-- he was regular creepy. The hair, the eyes, the brows, the body, the voice. Needless the say, the girl left pretty quickly.

"Whatever," he says, and The Clerk is back on his game. Now it's my turn.

"Hi," I say, setting down my The Lost Room Disc 2 DVD.
"Have you seen the first part of this?" he asks, without any context.
"I think so, I mean, I watched the first two parts on television, so I don't exactly know where disc 1 cuts off, but I think so..." I look up and realize that he's been staring blankly at me for about 90% of my sentence.
"Most people just don't know there's a first disc. So, we make sure they do know, which you seem to know, even if you haven't gotten it." Maybe there are cameras watching, recording him and listening to see if he breaks policy, but it was still really awkward to hear. I think about pointing out that in the future he might want to ask if I know that it is a two DVD set and I have the SECOND disc, instead of have I seen it which sounds like an insider fan's question, but I don't see the point. I mean, what can you say to that, really, so I just smile and nod a little. The rest of the transaction takes place in silence until,

"This will be due back next thursday-- bye."
"Thanks." and then,

"Yeah, alright, come on," to the next customer-- completely serious, full of condescension, waiting for midnight, when his job turns into a Giant Pumpkin and he can play Guitar Hero II into the wee hours of the night.

Only Now Realizing I Will Probably See Him Again,

Witz Pickz: A Friday Medley

It is entirely unclear on day 70-something (kinda) of my time here in California (and non-jobness) how Mikey from Swingers made any money. Sure, he was the host of an open mic in Hollywood-- that doesn't pay anything-- and as far as I can tell, he NEVER WENT! So yeah, maybe it's sunny here all the time (all 70 something days so far) like the movie says, and that's good, but how did Mikey live without any income?? Baffling. But it's almost the weekend, and that means one thing-- I feel completely at ease not working right along with the rest of the world. Here's some pickz:

Addendum From Yesterday's Pick: Linkin Park - Bleed It Out: I originally thought there were four pop songs that I was ashamed of, and couldn't remember the fourth one yesterday. Well, then I heard it on he radio again and it all came shamefully flooding back. Linkin Park's new track Bleed It Out is pop-alternative glory. I know what you're gonna say, you're gonna say, "Linkin Park Witz!! You've gone too far! Even YOU can't have fallen this hard!" But to you I can only quote Linkin Park themselves when I say, "Shut up when I'm talking to you, shut up," because this song is GOOD. I think it's primarily good and sneaky pop because it is really poorly produced. Like, I get the feeling that the record company didn't wnat to produce it, so they made it in their basement and then leaked it onto myspace only to find out, it was a huge hit. So it SOUNDS independent, which is weird. Then, there is some rapping that sounds pretty mediocre, but it works before hitting the chorus which is a rolling, rhythmic, melodic chanting that sounds a whole lot like old Against Me! only cleaner. Also, the guitar riffs and the vocals are...brighter? It's almost cheery in a way, even though it isn't. Plus, I'm a sucker for a chanting song, so I got drawn in before I knew who it was and now I can't get out. They only have a 30 second clip on myspace, so it might be tough to hear, but I'm sure it's on your local alternative rock station about 50 times a day. Listen, you just might understand. I am, however, forever, shamed.

Molten Chips Ahoy Sandwhiches: If I've learned one thing over the years, it's that if you add the word "molten" to any description, people will think it's delicious. This invention IS delicious, and molten in a sense, although people usually assume molten means chocolate-- and in that, you would be wrong. You see, last night, I was over at My Friend With A Pool's apartment, hanging out (not in the pool), when all of a sudden he asks if I like Chewy Chips Ahoy. Not being bat shit crazy, I replied, "Of course I do, they are phenomenal," and half-assumed we had started acting out some After School Special skit about the "Trouble-maker" kids who don't like cookies and smoke meth instead. BUT THEN SOMETHING ELSE OCCURRED! He asked if I liked them WITH PEANUT BUTTER! You see, the PB and the Cooks were right next to each other on the shelf, almost magical in coincidence, and he realized that might be amazing. To which I realized that it would only be made more potentially delicious by making it MOLTEN. So we melted the PB, slapped it on a cookie, both immediately realized it had to be a cookie-which, slapped on the top cookie (they're tiny, lay off us), and ate it-- WOOOO! We win, people, we win. Now, I realize that at the time this seemed really really fat of us. And in retrospect, with the lens of my writing craft, I realize that it was even fatter of us than we might have thought. BUT, they were delicious, and frankly, we probably ate fewer cookies because of the peanut butter, so again, lay off us and try it yourself. I never ever ever intended for my girlfriend to find out about my consuming of this dessert, but it's so good I had to let the deliciousness out of the bag. I mean, it's freaking MOLTEN, people.

Quadruple H: I wasn't and am not a big wrestling fan, but I knew the existence of Triple H and his apparent goodness in the ring. And since everyone else only had one H or X or Stone or Rock, it appears the H's might have been the source of his power. So why didn't somebody become Quadruple H and take Triple H down. I mean, once you are in the WWE and named Quadruple H, you a) clearly have to fight Triple H and then b) you'd logically have to defeat Triple H, setting up a rematch in which, AGAINST ALLLLL ODDDS, TRIPLE H manages to defeat Quadruple H despite the obvious handicap of ONE H. It would have been the match of the century and would have turned already popular Triple H into a good guy hero figure. Too bad.

Sorry Loverboy, Not EVERYBODY'S Working For the Weekend,

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Witz Pickz: Pop-O-Craptic Trouble

I'm in over my head. I started listening to the radio and going to parties where they play those "Hit Songs" and now I feel like I should go climb under a desk and hide from the world (also, sometimes it's just really comfortable under a desk). You see, I now have at least three pop songs that I completely am obsessed with, and I feel both shame and pride. I feel shame in that I know that I shouldn't, as a music aficianado, like and want to spread the enjoyment to others of these songs. On the other hand, I'm kind of proud that I completely believe in my opinion that these songs are catchy as all hell and not too music snobby to cast them off as crap simply because I will lose all of your respect and my street cred for liking them. So, without further ado, here they are-- Don't Judge Me People:

Rihanna - Umbrella: Oh my dear God, have you heard this song? "Ella-ella-ay-ay." Holy SHITE-- NOBODY expected umbrellas to ever be this popular and catchy, except potentially literally if turned upside down. The song (at least my version?) kicks off with a Jay-Z intro, and the Jigga Man is like the doorkeeper making it ok for me to keep listening. And then, Rihanna comes in and it's all bumpin' and shit, and all I wanna do is DANCE BABY DANCE! "Under my umbrella-ella-ay-ay-ay" COME ON! It's like the taco bell crunch taco surpreme (modern classic). Honestly, I've been so into this song that if I'm bouncing to it alone in my apartment, shades closed, door locked, headphones on, I sometimes lose myself in the soft vocal bridge and just start interpretive dancing (which is kinda what all dancing looks like when you're white and Jewish) my ass off-- let's just say there's an ipod commercial coming out with my shadow in it. So get it-- just...GET IT. "Catch the dick" as they say.

Wyclef Jean - Sweetest Girl: My friend played this Wyclef single from the upcoming November album The Carnival II (cuz he realized The Carnival 1 was his only amazing album), and warned me "it's really pop, but so catchy" and he was absolutely right. The beat is catchy, the lyrics and hooks are catchy, and OH SNAP! DID I TELL YOU IT'S FEATURING AKON?? No longer creepin' in the shadows, Akon is now on Wyclef's new hit. SICK. "I'm a tell you, like you told me, cash rules everything 'round me, singing Dolla Dolla Bills Ya'all" AHHHHH. I don't know where to get this song really, but the version I have has some "Hot" DJ giving an annoying introduction.

Matchbox 20 - How Far We've Come: I truly believed Rob Thomas was dead somewhere. If not physically, then at least mentally. Apparently, however, he's been constructing the greatest pseudo rock/pop/punk ripoff song I've heard in years. Or maybe he just thought up the idea to get a new producer. One way or the other, Rob Thomas is no longer just the executive producer of the now defunct Veronica Mars television series. He's the musician again-- and he's channeling Fall Out Boy. It still sounds like Matchbox 20 kinda, but Rob Thomas sings differently, the guitars are more basic and I think they try to do less and in doing so, they do more. There's one part in particular where the buildup and hesitation before the chorus sound EXACTLY like that one Fallout Boy hit that makes big jocks in the gym on their phone-tune-players sing "One time and one more time...etc (they don't say etc.)"-- shit, that just looks like the title of a Fallout Boy song now (see how I'm spelling Fall Out Boy two different ways? I'm tryin' em out to see which one I like). The chorus will be stuck in your head for days like it was stuck in mine and then you'll realize that Rob Thomas is kinda making the music you wish you were making and then you'll feel shamed again and find yourself under a desk wishing you had a Chipotle burrito-- unrelated. You can watch the "How Far We've Come" music video at

I Also Like Bear vs. Shark, The Blue Scholars, Parts & Labor, and The Impossibles, So Don't Judge Me,

P.S. Peep the new link on the right-- my radio show for KZSU Stanford is now up and podcasting. Follow the link to listen online or download the mp3 for your iPod or paste the link into your "Advanced" "Subscribe Podcast" box in itunes for consistent success! OR for you myspace folks, click HERE and bookmark it or add it to itunes.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Witz Pickz: Aziz Ansari @ Bonnaroo 2007

Aziz is the man. Here is some video from him at Bonnaroo 2007 since I haven't posted today.


Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Witz Pickz: Podcasting and Bat Bridge

I've started podcasting! Not Witz Pickz, which would be weird (just me reading the pickz outloud for my visually challenged fans-- wait-- does visually challenged mean they can't see or that they're really ugly? Crap. Well, for both of them-- they could both get the podcast) and entirely remove the mystery from this thing (maybe you haven't heard my voice or maybe you forget what it sounds like). Anyway, I'm in the process of learning to podcast my radio show on KZSU Stanford so if anybody NOT up from 3-6am on the EAST coast can hear it if they'd like. But here's what I learned and why I love it:

Learning to podcast without essential knowledge is like falling into a mystical magical fantasyland where anything is possible, plausible, and probably occurring. I found a how to guide that has taken me to tens of sites I didn't know existed and don't believe they exist after I leave. File hosting sites for free, communities of file sharing and browsing groups that are based off of the free hosting sites, and one site which as far as I can tell is JUST a basic picture of what uploading a file from your computer to a server looks like (two boxes, one arrow). It's amazing. I have no idea what I'll find next. I mean, just the other day I learned that big burly gay men are called "bears". Now I find out I can upload my huge files online for free? Astounding! I'll keep an eye out for any magical cats or totally effed up tea-parties (in Wonderland, Boston, or other). I'll let you all know when the podcasts are up.

Bat Bridge!: There has never been any question that Batman is real, simply when he existed. Batman I, II, III, The One We Dare Not Recall, and Batman Begins are all works of historical fiction, and as such, they provide insight into our past. If Batman were to live today, however, he would not live in a bat CAVE, he would live in a bat BRIDGE. While in Austin, I saw the South Congress Bridge, where thousands and thousands of bats live. At sunrise and sunset each day, they all emerge in a swooping mass of wings and furry what-have-yous (I call genitals, "furry-what-have-yous"). It sometimes takes up to 45 minutes for the entire stream to emerge, and must look at least a little bit like the Coors Light Train making everything SOOOO COOOOOLD. I didn't actually get to see the bats emerge, but I walked directly under the bridge, and the sound as I approached and underneath was insane. It was a frenzy of squeeling sounds, echoing for huge distances. Since I didn't feel like getting shat on, I didn't get too close, but it was very odd to sense the presence of so many creatures without being able to see them. My fear for snakes, spiders, mountain lions, has now increased.


Through the Looking Glass,

Friday, September 07, 2007


In an amazing coincidence of circumstances, the google ad for Witz Pickz right now says, "Meet Gay Bear Singles: Meet Local Gay Bears Near You. 100% Free to signup." I'm laughing really hard for so many reason.

A) I'm questioning Google adwords for their logic and monitoring.

B) I'm worried that Google adwords is correct and that there actually is somebody paying them to advertise a gay bears singles website.

C) I want to click on it, but don't know what road it will lead me down or where that road might haunt me in the future.

D) In a less literal sense, it's calling the Chicago Bears gay.

E) In a more literal sense, they want me to signup to meet gay bears-- WHO ARE SINGLE.

F) They are not going to charge me to signup! I don't know about you, but if I"m a dude who needs to meet gay bears on the internet (apparently I don't have the social grace to meet them in person, or to find them in my area), I'm probably ok with paying a little bit. Or is it only free to SIGN UP, but once I meet the Gay Bear of my dreams, they're gonna charge me like crazy? I'll already be in too deep to say no (or my mouth will say no, but my wallet will say yes).

G) Does this mean that Paddington Bear was gay? Almost definitely, right? He wore a bright yellow rainhat everywhere and a long raincoat, but no pants. He was totally non-threatening and generally lived a sad and lonely life-- or at least a life of solitude and contentment.

H) What's the testing like with these animals. I mean, I don't want to stereotype, but for all I know diseases are running rampant through the gay bear population and I don't even know where I'd begin explaining to my parents that I got HIV from a slutty internet bear. "Oh, and it was a guy bear, too, by the way-- that's right, I'm gay for brown bears. And one night ruined the rest of my life, but you know what Mom and Dad? I don't care-- because I'm in love! That's right-- I've fallen for Ronald Ruxpin and that's that!"

I) Oh my god, "Teddy"?? "Teddy"?? How did I miss this.

J) Am I expected to pay for all of the dates with the gay bear single just because it doesn't exist in the same socio-economic world that I live in? If we can't handle something simple like splitting a check, how are we supposed to handle more difficult situations later on in life, like adopting children, or keeping me entertained during hibernation season?

K) I can't wait to find out how many hits my page gets from stray keyword searches because of this one.

SWM seeks SPB for dating and some fun-- picinic baskets provided,

P.S. There's another post below this one from today, so that out too. I probably won't post again until Tuesday...

Witz Pickz: Things Germany Got Right

Here are a few quick pickz from the ATX, land of the famous dry heat which nobody seems to think is a problem until they experience it. BUT ALSO THE LAND OF SONIC! WOOOOOOOO SONIC! COCONUT CREAM PIE SHAKES! GRILLLLLED CHEEESE SANDWHICHES!!! VANILLA CHERRY COKES-- well I guess Coke really screwed Sonic over on that front, but still-- SONNNNIIIIIIIIIIC!

Claussen Dill Pickle Spears/Halves: Going along with one of my readers' gmail chat message, these suckers are freaking GOOOOD. I don't remember exactly when I discovered them, but I know that they are the best pickles you can buy at a conventional grocery store. They aren't even in the pickle section-- they're in the refridgerator section, like with the cheeses and specialty products and meats. They pack so much crispness and flavor into them that I don't mind that they're lilke five bucks a jar. I mean, they have to pay for the refridgeration and probably pickling supplies unknown the common consumer. One of my favorite nights was in college when I (100% sober) purchased a jar of pickles and a tube of cookie dough. Sure, I got some looks from the cashier and yes, I did purchase "American Sweethearts" for five dollars to try and offset the weirdness (yeah, that didn't work), but it was one of the best feelings in the world to know that at 11pm, I could strut into a store and purchase two delectables and one embarrassable and walk out without fear of authoritative retribution (though pickles and cookie dough tend to provide retribution all on their own). If Claussen Pickles ran for President, I would seriously consider voting for them, but then probably vote for someone else-- but they'd have a shot.

Fried Zucchini/Pickles: Breaded and fried zucchini or pickles are also delicious. I found these at some German pubs as well as ski lodges and man do they taste good with some aioli dip (one of those words where one letter makes a world of difference, huh?). A lot of the times, they come with hush puppies, which are way better than the shoes would suggest-- they're fried corn they're healthy too!....right?

The Autobahn: I recently learned that a major highway in northern california was designed by the same guy who designed the autobahn in Germany. The edges incline slightly around turns so they're easier to take at full speed, etc. Only, see, it's America, so there's also, like a 60mph speed limit and TONS OF COPS. It makes no sense that they would have that guy design it, but I'm sure he, like most of us, is really disappointed by the lack of speed exhibited.

Go Big Or Go Home (you know, like, if you want),

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Witz Pickz: Extension Cords and Life Metaphors

Extension cords are tremendous. They are such a simple thing, but they allow freedom. They allow you to put things wherever you want in a room, regardless of if there's a socket there. They open up sockets for MORE electronics-- you can put two microwaves on ONE extension cord and then wonder at why in the hell you would ever have or need TWO MICROWAVES. BUT you can have them and use them and pretend that the one extension cord is like the lifeline, or the society of microwaves-- and if the microwaves don't behave properly (i.e. make you soggy bagel bites), you can pull that one cord out of the wall and pretend that you have just made your microwave colony extinct. You bastard.

Anyway, while I understand and lavish on the brilliance of extension cords, I never have one when I need one, but I always think I do. Somehow, at some point in my life, I realized that whenever I needed an extension cord and said the phrase, "Does anyone have an extension cord?" the answer was always "Yes, I think I do somewhere!" And without fail, I would end up with an extension cord. And so the other day when I needed to put something further away from a socket, I said, "I'll just get an extension cord," but I didn't have one. I searched everywhere, certain I had a bag of extension cords that have followed me from place to place, coast to coast, apartment to apartment. And yet I couldn't find it. Which resulted in my bafflement and ultimately, my not putting that thing quite so far away. Because here's another thing: I will never buy an extension cord.

I will never buy an extension cord nor do I know anyone who has ever bought an extension cord (no one has ever purchased or discussed the tobe purchased-ing of one in my presence). It's the type of thing I assume doesn't happen anymore. Back in 1950, a slew of extension cords must have been sold and the market was so inundated that they are no longer required on shopping lists. Everybody simple seems to HAVE one. Or KNOW somebody who HAS one. Buying an extension cord is like admitting you are alone in this world. You have no friends to help you out and you can't even talk to your neighbors. It is a fact that no two people who know each other need to use an extension cord at the same time-- if one exists, it will inevitably be available for use when needed. It must be tough times for extension cord dealers (and it's not like they have a lack of material to hang themselves with). And still, I will never buy an extension cord. It will not occur to me, nor will I see it reasonable to go to a store and purchase one. It is simply something that ought to exist.

This is how my life (and plenty of people I know) operates. I have a good idea (I want to put X there) and I think that people will want my idea, but it requires an extension cord. I could go to the store and acquire one, possibly having to go to several stores or compare various cords, but I won't. I expect that extension cord to be there already. To be in my closet, on my shelf, or in my car, waiting for me to need it. So that when I need it, when I have an idea and want to put something somewhere else-- when I want that freedom-- I can go over and acquire it without any hassle. I expect that extension cord to be mine by right, or at least, be mine because I deserve it for such a good idea I had of placing X over there (let's be honest, X probably equals two microwaves vying for supremacy in a bagel bite cooking competition). And even as my parents recount tales of how they had to go to the store to buy the extension cords themselves so that we could have extension cords, and our children can have extension cords, I see it as ridiculous. Why would I possibly want to go to the store for an extension cord, when there must be one around here somewhere?

Sometimes Metaphors That Work TOO Well Actually DON'T Quite Work,

P.S. I'm going to be out of town for about five days, so the posts might drop off, but be sure to check back in by the 12th if they do!