Fuck yes Russia!

Not sitting on their asses drinking vodka has never been a staple of Russian stereotypes but now they are really doing something, freaking out and spending hundreds of millions of dollars to go after asteroids!

John Mayer

John Mayer fits a classic paradigm for me. John Mayer is that guy who is a good athlete, really smart, good with girls, plays music (okay that one is maybe a little obvious), and probably helps old women across the street. John Mayer is a guy I want to hate but just can't because of all of the above. I'm just jealous of John Mayer because when I was in middle school he sang pop songs like 3x5 and that other insanely popular one about running down the halls of high school and I liked it and then when I got older he started playing filthy blues and now writes good music. He is everything.

WTF NYC?

New York City is home to some of the stupidest shit in the world. Being the largest city in the United States, you inevitably have to take the bad with the good. Along with world-class arts, food, and business, New York City also has some of the stupidest people doing the stupidest things imaginable. It's pure statistics, if you put that many people in one place, your stupid fucker count goes through the roof. The problem with New York City is that most people not from NYC move there because they think it is somehow cooler than where they came from, and people from NYC think NYC is the coolest place on the planet. What do you get when you mix a bunch of stupid fuckers thinking they live in the coolest place on the planet? You get hipsters, of course.


I saw this article about some craft fair in Brooklyn, and my immediate thought was "I have never seen a bigger waste of time, money, journalism, or hairspray." It's about a bunch of silly people who, from the looks of the crafts in the pictures, possess no artistic ability but have a sort of half-assed lazy desire to be around other people who possess no artistic ability. The goal seems to be to attract people with jobs and money in hopes they will wander by and purchase some of the stupid crap that the lazy hipsters just poop out on an afternoon of listening to Matt & Kim and drinking PBR. I can't help but imagine a bunch of little kids who set up at a lemonade stand on the street corner, except these are adults, so it's just sad.

French cuffs are amazing

During my travels in the Middle Kingdom, about the best thing I did was get a suit made along with a set of dress shirts with French cuffs, and holy moly have those puppies served me well.

French cuffs are simply amazing. Totally baller. They make anybody look better. Look how much less skanky they make Tara Reid look (no easy task!). They don't even need sleeves attached for godsakes, they're that powerful. I'd go so far as to say they're second only to boobs when it comes to visual power-granting. Which, for a man, makes them first.

Dudes should keep the sleeves though. No, really. You have to keep the sleeves.

Why'd I read that?

The problem with getting your news from the internet is that the internet makes a lot of things "news." Sometimes I don't even realize there is a scandal going on that "the media can't stop covering" because I'm too busy thinking about foot-long corn dogs and how one would go about eating such a thing. Why do I care more about foot-long corn dogs more than I care about some polo-playing couple sneaking into the White House Dinner? I care more about corn dogs because if I'm going to waste my time on something, I would rather waste my time on something I GIVE A SHIT ABOUT. Corn dogs are delicious. You get them at places that usually have interesting people walking around. People that are real. When you see some mom grab her kid by the wrist and start to slap the kid on the butt while balancing a box of chili fries in the other hand, that is real life. The people who snuck into the White House Dinner, they aren't real. They're fake, they're imaginary. They only exist because the media made them exist. I don't know anyone who plays fucking polo. Why not? Those people aren't real people. They don't play polo because they enjoy it, they play polo because others cannot. They tried to attend the White House Dinner because others cannot attend. They are status whores, they had no motivation beyond that. "We thought we were invited," they said. Of course you did. You had to have been, you're better than the people who go to state fairs. You're better than people who enjoy watching movies. You're better than people who mow their own lawns. Those people didn't get invited to the White House Dinner.

Give me a foot-long corn dog any day. Serve it up on the White House lawn. We'll play football with Troy Polamalu.

Appreciation

I'm not one to get sentimental but our blog is getting old. It's been around since 2005 and it's been decently consistent and we are actually about to have more posts this year than last year. But I'm not hear to toot our own collective horn. I've been really impressed lately with Garrett's and especially Drew's posts. I feel like when we first started I could rip out something crazy and funny and unpredictable using my love of the written word and a mind rotted by the earth's factors. Lately Drew has been blowing my mind, I think he maybe should become a full time writer, so props to the guy. I feel like I haven't been able to bring much fire to the blog in the way that I want lately. Are the years of living in an apartment in the city and having a job melting my creative soul? Who knows, but I am going to try to dig deep and start taking glory dumps on this thing! Long Live Viking-era rape and pillaging! Long Live the Monstro Blog!

Enter the Dragon

Okay, Mandel's awesome Bruce Lee video reminded me of what a badass that guy was - like, Teddy Roosevelt-badass. This is a man about whom Chuck Norris said "Lee, pound for pound, might well have been one of the strongest men in the world, and certainly one of the quickest." Norris should know: before he became the "roundhouse God in the face every morning just to let Him know who wears the pants" guy he trained under Lee.

Lee was famous for a bunch of badass ass-kicking stunts, like the one-inch punch that knocked people over and video Aaron showed below. BTW, did you see the position he ends up in right after he lights that match in the guy's mouth? Seriously, go to 1:46 in and watch the amazingness. Holy shit, it's like he's preparing for that guy to go all "you sonuvabitch, you took my only match's honor!" on him or something. Of course he's not going to, but Lee's just ready for it.

Lee's most over-the-top badass moment just may be this story though, which happened while filming his magnum opus Enter the Dragon:

"Lee's famous, running thrust kick into Wall's chest at the end of their fight scene broke Wall's sternum, and broke one arm of each of two extras, into which Wall was propelled and fell. The rest of the fight was delayed for one month, until Wall had healed well enough to perform the choreography. The kick and fall were scripted and rehearsed, but Lee was unhappy that the kick would not look real on screen. Wall exhorted Lee, "Go for it, man. I'm a professional." The result put Wall in hospital."

You know you're in policy school when...

...you don't find this clip funny, because you actually understand what this guy's taking about.

BTW, I've recently enacted a policy that sets a counter-cyclical pricing structure on my balls. Just in the short term, until we get the economy up and moving again. The things I do for my country.

All-protein breakfast.

Out of necessity, not desire, I ate an all-protein breakfast this morning. My refrigerator looks like a post-apocalyptic New York City, all empty, barren, and with cockroaches crawling all around. I managed to locate a chicken sausage in the freezer which I tossed into a frying pan, still frozen, and put on low for about 20 minutes while I prepared my one joy of the morning, french press coffee. After the sausage had sizzled and burned I cracked two eggs into the same skillet and let those cook for a while, until all the grease had mixed and everything in the skillet turned the same color of brown. The all-protein breakfast is a staple of cowboys and cavemen, and like, wolves. So I guess I can count myself among a more simple, primitive, and hardened group than what my normal breakfast of granola and yoghurt places me in. I am almost embarrassed to think about what group that breakfast places me in. I am reminded of how you see all the cowboys cooking in western movies, like Tommy Lee Jones in The Missing. There is a scene where he is frying up some fish he caught out of the river and there is inexplicably a few pieces of bacon in the skillet along with the fish. I guess cowboys had bacon back in the day, but I didn't realize they traveled with it. Not to mention bacon seems like a stupid thing to blow your historical innacuracy on in a film, especially since the bacon wasn't mentioned or even eaten in subsequent scenes. My point is, someone on that set must have known cowboys had bacon, and they threw that little factoid in to make the movie a little more interesting. Now I'm over-analyzing my breakfast choice because Tommy Lee Jones ate bacon with fish in a movie made over ten years ago. Thanks Hollywood.

A new freakin' layout.

I want our blog to be cool, so I keep changing the layout "with the times." As you can see, the blog now has some fancy outside graphics that I totally didn't design but just took off the internet. If you like it you can get it too from the link at the bottom of the blog. I figure if we ever become famous bloggers we can hire some graphic artist to do a really cool blog for us that has elephants running all over it with maybe an asteroid looming in the background (as a reminder of our mortality.)

I hope you like it. If you don't we'll change it to something else. Watch this video and learn why we're not accomplishing anything with our lives:

someone please explain this to me

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_buffalo_Buffalo_buffalo_buffalo_buffalo_Buffalo_buffalo

movie

simple, no hyperlinks, no news commentary, just close your eyes let the things happen.

There is tall grass and you are alone in an unfamiliar place. You are wearing clothes but they are not yours, although they fit really well. You vaguely remember a man with an absurdly waxed mustache and a hot air balloon.

All your internal organs are intact.

Suddenly the tall grass moves, shit, you had momentarily forgotten about the tall grass. Then, in super slow motion, an enormous elephant parts the grass, it rumbles toward you with dust slow motion flying everywhere and gutteral grunting noises emitting from deep within the beast.

Then it goes through you. It is a CGI elephant, so many things are ruined.

A new and terrifying trend

This article from the BBC website puts into a clear lens a disturbing new trend that is emerging: Climate-inspired conflict. The general idea is that climate change is causing wars over resources, especially in places like Africa where the average person relies very heavily on the land and water sources for their day to day survival (unlike most Americans). Darfur and South Sudan are examples of this but another fact is that places with extreme climates are simply more predisposed to war in my opinion. There is nothing as crippling to the progress as the hot humid days in the Carribbean part of Costa Rica mixed with devastating floods to make people angry as hell and with little recourse except depression or violent insurrection. Tropical weather is chill for awhile but then when you wanna get something done and the termites fucked it all up, what are you gonna do? Here's what, foment primordialist histories to give legitimacy to petty ethnic gripes and FUCK SHIT UP!

Book and Movie reviews all in one

I have seen two movies and read four books lately which is yet another sign that the universe is strangely out of whack. Here are some rudimentary and un-nuanced reviews.

Movies:

The Informant: This movie is entertaining but smug. Matt Damon is fat and acts pretty well but I didn't really like it overall, like an "average" or "C" grade I'd say.

A Serious Man: This movie is entertaining but smug. There are almost no actors I've heard of but they all act really well. There is some inconsolable DARKNESS up in this shit which might make it a Monstro Blog favorite. It clearly has some Job shit going down but I'm not smart enough anymore to full unpack it, to use a word loaded with bullshit.

Books:

Whatever it Takes: This book is awesome and inspiring.

Born to Run: This book is awesome and inspiring.

Outliers: This book is pop-science at its best, entertaining at times.

World According to Garp: This one has been on my list for awhile, it is full of darkness and beautifully written.

Tonight I am going to see a third movie to put things into slightly better balance, some little guy called "William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe" about a radical lawyer in the 60's and 70's, but I am also about to start a biography of Shel Silverstein, reading is becoming fun again. Who knew!

Non Sequitur?

Taking a short hiatus from bears, I was reminded that I hadn't seen a movie in almost three months and I'd like to talk about film for a post.

While there's many equally awesome directions you can go with the written word, the combination of unique abilities and limitations makes film an easier medium to declare favorites in. So here they are:

The greatest genre in film is the Western.

The greatest sub-genre in film is the Zombie Apocalypse.

That may sound like a non sequitur, but I have no problem reconciling these facts. Think about it: the only conceivable way to make Unforgiven a better film would've been to have the town of Big Whiskey also being overrun by zombies, and Clint Eastwood in stoic badass fashion dispatching them by the dozens BEFORE doing the same to Gene Hackman, all while whispering some dark "wisdom"-esque shit.

If you disagree you're simply wrong,
GRat

Let's just make this blog all about Bears

Bears will be the solution to armed insurrections in the world!

Further proof Stiles is a wimp

Last week Garrett posted this and then compared himself to this and then I also just read this, proving that Garrett is fully this.

I've seen this dog

I have seen this dog.

I lived right on Ocean Beach for about six months last year, and I'd often go to Dog Beach (a section of beach for letting dogs play - awesome, right!?!) to watch the puppies play and try to meet canine-friendly girls.

I thought this guy was a little strange at the time; he's blind so he was just sniffing everywhere. But JESUS he's big.

So there you have it, one year of living in San Diego and my celebrity-sighting count is as follows:

Gene Simmons the Rocker
Mitt Romney the Politician
Titan the Great Dane

Future Person.

This evening I have begun to refer to myself in the future person. Please note the difference between future tense and future person. My sentences will still happen in past, present, and future tense, but the noun with which I refer to myself will be defined based on one possibility among many about how I may exist in the future. From this point forward I will refer to myself as the future implications and results of my life and my actions. When I want a bottle of wine, I will say "My destiny would like to try a bottle of 1997 Jordan Estates, please." If I am asking someone to call me back on a voicemail message, I'll say "It's the children of my children's children, dude. Hit me up when you get this if you want to go poach some cougs tonight." When I go to the pharmacy, my prescription on the bottle will read "A corpse returned to the soil from which it came" above my address. 

Bears

Two weeks ago I went camping in the Pisgah National Forest and hiked Mt. Mitchell, which at ~6700 feet is the highest mountain in the Appalachian mountains and the highest point on the continent east of Colorado. On my way up, alone and on a remote stretch of trail to the top, I came face to face with Stephen Colbert's worst enemy: a bear.

OK, I'd like to be dramatic and all when telling the story: how I threw my backpack to the ground, ripped off my shirt, pounded my chest while letting out a primal cry, then charged the bear and wrestled it into Sam Johnson-like submission. But that isn't what happened.

What really went down was this: I turned a corner around a big rock formation and saw this big pile of black fur in the middle of the trail, about a dozen feet in front of me. It was getting late in the day and there was pretty thick fog - I think the thing was sleeping to be honest. Anyway, I wasn't quite sure it wasn't a dog until it got up, looked at me, and promptly ran like hell from the trail up the side of mountain. It was just a little guy, no taller than my hip and I doubt much more than 100lbs. But it was still the closest I've ever been to one (by far), and I was totally alone. So there you have it, I've officially stared down a bear.

I was mildly impressed with myself until I saw this story.

Showoff.

Miracle of the Modern World: Sexy Sexegenarians

There was a time - it wasn't so long ago - when being over age 40 meant a woman could not be attractive anymore. Really. I know this is hard to accept in an age when anyone with a TV can expose themselves to the Courtney Cox-driven nightmare Cougar Town, but it's true: the hot older woman is a relatively new phenomenon of the modern age. And I like it.

Recall that throughout most of human history, the majority of people never made it out of their 30s. There's a reason the aging process begins at 30: in the cave days, you were retiring to Florida by then.

So given that the environment which we evolved in - i.e., you're dead by 40 - it's understandable that female beauty would be assumed to vanish by that age. You don't need nice skin when it's just going to be devoured by a saber-toothed tiger any day now. That's why one must recognize the amazing possibilities of the modern age: the attractive, older, woman.

As far as I can tell, this trend is less than 50 years old. I mean, even in the paleo-modern age of the the late eighteenth century, Catherine the Great still had to jump a horse because no dude would step up after her 40th birthday. This phenomenon traces to a specific time, which I place in the 1950s. Why, you ask? Because it was in the 1950s that the guys who wrote The Graduate came of age, the first open cultural reference to the hot, older, woman.

So, 50+ years later, what's changed? Women have stayed hotter longer. Score one for civilization. The classic example is Sofia Loren, whom the average 20 year-old found bone-able well into her 70s. But I'm not interested in outliers, I'm interested in trends, and the trend is this: there are some hot 60+ females out there. What a wonderful world.

Alright, you want my picks. Fine, I'll play.

Because I'm a politics geek, I'm going to focus on some of the women that I spend a lot of time watching and reading about. Here are 3 examples, from each side of the aisle, because an attractive 60 year-old deserves better than a purely partisan admirer:


The Lefty: Elizabeth Warren, 60, Chair of the Congressional Oversight Panel



Elizabeth makes this list for two reasons. First, her background: she's from the heartland (daughter of poor Oklahoma farmers), she worked her way to the top, and she's scary smart; intelligence is sexy. Second, she looks seriously great for 60, I mean, she looks like she's in her 40s. She reminds me of some of those cute, nerdy, mid-length hair, usually-wearing-glasses girls from college. You know, the ones you passed in the library on your way to a Monstro party. And since those 18-22 year-old girls looked like they were in their 40s, she fits the fantasy perfectly. Anytime you have "60" and "fantasy" in your description, you make my list.

Oh, and in case you think I'm cherry picking photos since she normally wears glasses, she looks cute with them on too:





The Righty: Bay Buccanan, 60, Former U.S. Treasurer



Ok, admittedly, pickings were a little slimmer on the right. The Repubs tend to do better with the hot younger women, while the Dems age better and require fewer former cheerleaders, skewing the sample. But Bay's a hottie at 60. She's the brains behind everything I love about her brother Pat Buccanan with none of his trodlydite-like outdatedness; couple that with model hair, great form in a suit jacket, and sexy librarian glasses, and you make my list every time.





The Goes-Both-Ways: Arianna Huffington, 59, Founder of The Huffington Post



OK, I'm cheating just a tad here: Arianna's a couple months shy of 60. So what. It's not like this is gonna change in the next six months. Deal with it.

Arianna's "I'm a Republican when I'm marrying for money but then I'm a rabid liberal after the divorce alimony starts rolling in" indicisiveness may be annoying, but she's still damn hot. It's not just the "She's how old!?!" looks either: she exudes attainable sexiness. She's rich, powerful, looks incredible, and you just know that if you took her out for wine and dinner you'd have a sporting chance of going back to her place. And then there's that accent...

Comparison shot: this is how great Arianna looks for her age: look how BAD Bill Maher looks standing next to her. And he's 5 years younger.


Alright Monstro blog readers, I have a call to action for you. I know I'm missing some hot 60 year-olds out there (is Pam Anderson 60 yet?). The comments section is for listing my omissions.



Paper due in 13 hours and doing everything in my power to procrastinate,

GRat

Lighting and Mood and Music

They all can work together if you let them and then there is a harmony born out of cosmic synergy. Right now I am the last one in the office, the quiet hasn't become depressing since it is only 5:11pm, the silence is peaceful as the week runs out and I gaze out the window over the calm waters of the bay and beyond to Yerba Buena Island as Daylight Savings Time has allowed, now the sun sets early enough to reflect back into my eyes off the shiny objects known as houses and building on the west-facing east bay hills. I put on "Transformation" by David Gray and "I and Love and You" by the Avett Brothers and sink into a satisfied calmness at my desk.

I am forever meant to be a hairy beast

For the last few years I've pretty consistently tried having a beard of some form or another. I don't know whether this was to avoid shaving (probably) or because I like to give people hope upon seeing me that they've found a missing link (also likely). This week I decided I wanted to see what it's like for all the clean cut douche bags that I share downtown sf with so I've been shaving everyday. Well for four days at least. Now I cannot do it, my face is a mess of zits, cuts, rashes, it's unbelievable. I pretty much look like this. I got good shaving cream and am using a new razor. It is not meant to be.

Sandwich Day!

Stop the presses, the blogrolls, the toilet bowls, today is November 3rd. The top of the blog post could have told you that so I will make this slightly more worth your while than when you need to fill in a date, can't remember what it is and go over to the Monstro Blog to get all your pressing life questions answered.

November 3rd is muthafuckin sandwich day! (ADD sidenote of the day: spell check wants to correct "muthafuckin" to azimuthal)

Sandwich Day is named after John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich who was born on November 3, 1718. I doubt the fool ate a sandwich the day he was born, probably just sucked some titty milk, but the day is celebrated today. I was talking about celebrations in my prior post and I think birthdays of famous people are too obvious, make it on the day he had his first sandwich. That would be like celebrating the moon landing on Neil Armstrong's birthday.

It was said that he ordered a piece of meat to be tucked between two pieces of bread to sustain him at the gambling table and soon others were ordering, "the same as Sandwich" and a legend was born.

I know that at least 50% of my meals involve a sandwich. This leads me to some pierceing questions.

What is the best sandwich?

-wow, hard to say, there are SO MANY good ones, BLT, Reuben, prosciutto, too many to say.

On to more important questions.

Why did it take until the 1700's for the sandwich to become institutionalized! That means there were literally THOUSANDS of years of human existence where this was not a known, common thing. Dark ages indeed!

and lastly, why the fuck does every portrait of someone from this era look exactly like George Washington?

Holiday, ritual and celebration

Holidays, rituals and celebrations are important.

That is my simple thesis. I was making my way into SF on BART Saturday night for a Halloween party and the scene on the BART train was reminiscent of Burning Man, everyone was in pretty ridiculous costumes and no one was batting an eye. It was fantastic. I'm sure there is some scholarly research done on the "why" of holidays, why do we do them? My arm-chair analysis is that historically a lot of them were based around harvests and seasons but they served a deeper purpose: as outlets.

The Tarahumara tribe of Mexico is known for having insanely low cancer rates, high physical fitness, and in communities that have been unscathed by the more corrupting of modernity's influences, no crime whatsoever. Scientists hypothesize that living this way for years has actually now made their brains rather incapable of lying! These are seemingly idyllic people but they also have rituals from time to time where they brew huge vats of corn beer and liquor and drink until the women tear each other's clothes off and wrestle to settle deep seated animosities and men, normally so polite and shy will grope and grab women. Take me there, holy shit. The point though is that celebrations and holidays are necessary for people. People who are creative, vibrant, seeking creatures who can sink into ruts and get bored and need the occasional change of pace switcheroo.

So keep dressing up and being weird every now and then!

The Stinger: marvel of evolution

I went camping last weekend in the Pisgah National Forest and Mitchell State Park. It was a much needed break from school - I'd been working 18+ hour days for three weeks without a day off and had to get in some mountains. I pointed the car west towards Asheville, NC, the only town east of Denver where I'd ever considering living long-term.

I went solo, visionquest-style, parking the car in a bank parking lot in the town of Old Fort (named for the roots of the town - an Revolution-era Cherokee fighting outpost) and walking off into the woods with a backpack. There are few greater feelings than trudging off on your own away from civilization with nothing to do and nowhere to be for two days.

Anyways, now to the point of my post: after I found a good "home base" spot to pitch my tent at the foot of Mt. Mitchell, I starting unpacking the non-essentials for climbing the mountain into the tent. While doing this a hornet got into the tent.

I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall (or tree, given the location) to watch what happened. I dropped everything and ran like a madman out of the tent, hat in hand swinging wildly at the wind, just generally freaking the fuck out. I'm terrified of stinging insects because I get stung a lot and usually not for any good reason (unless you call Karma a good reason), so I REALLY make sure to get out of those bastards' way. The hornet left and I didn't get stung.

Hiking by yourself lets you think. On my way up Mitchell, I thought about my encounter with the hornet earlier, and about stinging insects in general. Then it hit me: the stinger is perhaps the most amazing evolutionary development ever in terms of evening up inter-species conflict.

Let's take a look at my situation to flesh this out a bit: I am a human being, a homo sapien to those of you not afraid of gay jokes. Our species is a highly evolved bunch of mammals, a group that ditched insects to start the long slog towards world domination about 400 million years ago. Our brains are so advanced that they've allowed members of our species to travel to the friggin' Moon. As a particular example of my species I'm well within human norms: I stand just over six feet tall and weigh about 200 pounds.

The hornet, by comparison, just can't keep up. It's species has remained virtually unchanged for over a hundred million years. It's "brain" is really just a simple, non-vertibrate nervous system, that functions almost entirely on pre-programmed instinct rather than innovation and decision-making. What I'm trying to say is, they ain't going to the Moon anytime soon. On top of that, they're only about an inch long and weigh about a tenth of an ounce, one 74th of my height and one 32,000th of my mass.

Alright oddsmakers: who should be running from who?

Behold the stinger. Marvel of evolution.

Then, while thinking about that, I got within 10 feet of a black bear. But that's for another post.

Friday afternoon brain diarrhea

So I was in the store when I ran into the University of Arizona women's soccer team. They were like a different species, all hot, blonde and ridiculously fit. I said hi and then realized they probably all have herpes. U of A!!!

I'm not that into Halloween, sorry to all my oddly overly disapointed adult friends, it was cool when I was 7, but then I turned 12 and egged and toilet papered someone's house and it's been downhill ever since. I did try to bring back some of my youthful joy by dressing up in my old phone costume from when I was really young at a high school halloween party but everyone kept punching me in the chest where the keypad was to dial their phone numbers. But again, this weekend, probalby Friday and Saturday nights I will drag myself to Halloween parties where in order to do something I like (drink) I have to wear a costume. I will come to know the sadness of the clown.

I have read two awesome books lately, "Whatever it Takes" and "Born to Run" (not about Springsteen, shockingly) so if anyone wants to discuss them, I'm game.

Great week for the Bay Area. Violent gang rape followed by Bay Bridge breaking followed by oil spill followed by all sports teams sucking. Happy Halloween.

Still there?

I'm back.

And I'm bringing some of the "medieval awesomeness" Mandel has become so fond of.

Brace yourselves like the legs of a polio patient,

G Rat

kok boru

Wow, so on May 9 of this year I posted this article about an Afghan sport called Buzkashi which I termed "medieval awesomeness". Now, today, October 21, on my sojourn through the world of news I come across this! Kok boru is the Kyrgyz version of Buzkashi, played with a beheaded goat! This is clearly the central Asian version of soccer. And frankly, Drew can write all he wants about Football but when the ball is made out of pigskin that clearly plays second fiddle to a full animal carcass.

Hypotheticals

People often ask, "if a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it, did it make a sound?" I now wonder the following:

If a blog once at a certain website loses the lease to that site and goes back to a site they had 3-4 years ago and the bloggers keep posting but few people out of an already scarce endangered species of readers are aware of the move, do I still have pants on that are sanitary?

I am solely offering hypotheticals.

Football Science.

Two of my great loves are science and football. There is no science better than football science. The linked Wired.com article suggests a scientific explanation for something football fans have always known: you can't trust a kicker.

The extremely profitable, multi-billion dollar NFL attracts a lot of scientists, especially the ones desperately seeking tenure, in order to grab an easy journal publication by studying the players and strategies of the United States' most popular sporting event. Or they're like me and they're obsessed with the game and trying to pull that obsession into the lab. I don't blame them. I'd rather be standing on the practice field bullshitting with a few kickers around the league than in some dark lab watching an infrared laser bounce off some mirrors.

I wouldn't mind doing a scientific study trying to find a link between having Ray Lewis stare you down and immediately pissing oneself and sacrificing a defensive touchdown.

A Salute to Drinking

If there's one thing we at El Monstro can get behind, it is drinking yourself into a heinous stupor at 10am on Tuesday. Seriously, this guy has it going on, and is going back for more beer!

cheers to you drunk internet guy!

Not working hard, lots of crazy news today

Most importantly, Garth Brooks is back. Where has my life been this entire decade without him? I think history will point to the "oughts" (2000's) as a dark period in history, void of anything except, well, nothing.

This story is either going to get more or less weird. I mean so far we know that a boy went airborne in a weather device, the family has been on "Wife Swap" and think that storms create their own magnetic fields and UFOs are legit, etc. Weird stuff.

And then, holy shit the living dead! This is pretty awesome and I'm not even half the sci-fi dorks of other monstronauts. I was just reading this yesterday so it's all kind of starting to make sense. Dying is not a single event but it's a process, or a series of events so if one or more of those can be stopped the process can be prolonged and remedies can be applied. This first piece though about the rats kind of takes it another step further.

Social status on social networking

This is an interesting article I just read about how your social status (wealth, race, job-type, education) can often be determined by which social networking sites you use. They argue that Myspace is the more blue collar site as opposed to Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn. I remember around 2004 I signed up for Myspace and thought it was pretty cool, but then got Facebook and kind of phased out Myspace, not sure why, I just didn't like it much and I think I fit into the class they are talking about so it's an interesting debate or point to raise.

I was at Jason Mraz/Brett Dennen concert last night

Goddam that was a lot of white people!

Lots of Good stuff. Really? Yes, really.

Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize? It seems like the other Nobel Prizes are pretty respected, science, literature, etc. but the Peace Prize is totally political. Yasser Fucking Arafat won this! Anyways, I'm all for Obama, but what has he done to deserve this? Not much yet I don't think. Although my friend Patrick made the good point that if you picked him as a sleeper in your Nobel fantasy league you'd be sitting pretty.

It'll just be more fodder for the right, and if anyone missed the SNL skit last week, it was brutal in that it was pretty dead-on. I'm hoping the whispers of him being Carter-esque are grossly premature and unfounded.

In TV-land, "House" and "The Office", two of my favorite shows, had amazing episodes this past week, especially with Pam and Jim's wedding which they could have made super cheesy, the writers managed to pack in some amazing awkward Office moments to keep the hilarity rolling.

And in other news, this amazing girl fight was captured from a MUNI bus, good old SF Bay Area public transportation!

My Fashion Diva

I will do a lot of things to spend time around a beautiful woman. Lately, my vice has been pulling me into fashion boutiques that have belts that would push the limits of my paycheck. I feel like I am an impostor every time I enter these stores, but I cannot help it because they are all populated by gorgeous and fashionable women that sit smiling behind the counter. They possess the edgy but not necessarily intelligent demeanor of a person who confidently believes that they are more fashionable than you are. It why it is difficult to dub Tyra Banks as "smug" because one wants so desperately to presume that with smugness comes wit, but anytime Tyra Banks ventures to comment beyond the realm of fashion, the glaring absence of wit becomes painfully obvious. She knows she's beautiful and well dressed, and this grants a level of unique authority that few of us commoners may challenge. Fashion divas, unlike police officers who have authority because of title or college professors who have authority through education, have authority simply because we - the slobbering and obedient males - give it to them. As a result, I sit sheepishly on the bench in a changing room trying on a $175 pair of jeans that I have absolutely no intention of purchasing solely so that I may bask in the glow of a fashion diva. I sit examining my white socks against a rug that cost more than my car. I can hear the girl chatting on her cell phone outside the changing room. She is dumb, and I know that, but all she has to do is say "try this on" and plop something over the door and I am hostage for another 30 minutes, unable to say no.

Holy Monstro I just crapped the pants I'm not even wearing!

Let's think about this blog. It was born out of a house inhabited by many and cleaned by few. And then suddenly everyone scattered because we had gotten too powerful and had to take over our own corners of the world. Now we are reuniting and for a few days here in early October, Captain Planet's powers won't have shit on King Kong, or US! Expect some pictures later in the next week since "Soccer Dad Stiles" will be in attendance, surely snapping away.

The participants:

Aaron Mandel, Adam Maldonado, Alex Carlson, Brandon Weil, Clark Blumenstein, Dan Baxter, Drew Lorona, Garrett Stiles, Greg Dering, Hans Bengtson, Julian Trowbridge, Lane Aikin, Sam Johnson.

The plan: Take all these people to my place of employment, brilliant.

A photo:



Yea, this is going to end well.

On Favre

It is no secret I love older athletes. While some people see it as sad when an athlete goes into the twilight years of their career I find those times the most interesting. Seeing how they deal with their bodies not being able to perform at quite their peak and their willingness to adapt and change fascinates me. On that note, Brett Favre is ridiculous.


Not ridiculously good looking, but whatever, I do have a man-crush. I just mean that the amount of insane accomplishments he has pulled off is astounding. He's a fucking country hick from Mississippi gunslinging throws that have no business existing and playing with a boyish enthusiasm for the game, even at 40. Throwing for 400 yards the day after his dad died, playing 100's of games in a row in a sport that is insanely violent, getting addicted to painkillers. He is like the modern hero, flaws and all. And unfortunately the hero had to ride in to SF with my beloved 49ers 2 seconds (literally!) away from going to 3-0, Favre had been outplayed all day and yet somehow makes this play to drive a dagger through my soul. I knew it though. You can't give a lion, no matter how old and grizzled that many shots at a limping wildabeast and not expect to become dinner. The lion roared again.

Kiss the Midwest: Boise Briefly Baby

I met a few bike tourers last week at the Michael Franti concert and they hit me up for a ride out to Mountain Home, ID so they didn't have to ride their bikes along the busy and abysmally boring I-84. I threw their bikes onto the roof rack of my car, packed them in like sardines, and proceeded to have a 50-minute long conversation that revolved around concerts at The Gorge, Idaho skinheads, and the modern overuse of the word "fag."

Needless to say, I loved the conversation and am now following their blogs.

new formation- "Sawed off shotgun"

the announcer in the Indiana-Michigan game just referred to Indiana's offensive spread as a "sawed off shotgun" which got me thinking we need to get a little more creative about naming formations.

Wildcat could easily be the fucking saber toothed tiger, that would be way more intimidating

the run and shoot (r.i.p) should have been called explosive diarrhea, for a few reasons.

the I-formation should be too much meat diet forcing huge dry blocks of shit out your ass, cuz, well, you know

Goal Line should be Mutually Assured Destruction

Spread formation should just be spread Eagle, except if you are in Philly when it would just hokey so they could go with like "dog races" or something if Vick is QB

me 'ead 'urts, badly.

Oh, God No...

This Wired.com article highlights some new advancements in brain scanning technology that allows scientists to read your mind. Not that I have...anything to hide...or anything...but I just like my privacy.

I am reminded of a chapter from Chuck Klosterman's book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs when he highlights a list of questions that he would ask anyone he might potentially marry. One of the questions is something along the lines of "if you had the ability to record your dreams every night and watch them when you were awake, would you do so under the one condition that your family and closest friends had to be present during the screening?"

I always had a hard time answering that question. Mainly because I have no friends, and my family is two cats. Sad.

VG's!

Sam knows us way too well.

The utility rag

At my office there is a small kitchen with a fridge, microwave and sink where we store our lunches or heat up water for coffee or tea. There is also a small washcloth/rag/towel thing hanging over the sink on a rack where paper towels would go. It has been hanging there for many months and is slowly changing colors. I recently realized that no one is quite sure what this fabric's purpose is. This was evidenced by the following series of events involving a use of the cloth:

1. dries off a clean plate
2. cleans up a small food spill
3. dries hands after washing in sink
4. wipes mouth dry after someone brushes their teeth
5. nose blow

Let's hear it for the utility player!

My trouble with socks

I love socks. I'm not like some of my fellow nature loving and politically left-leaning friends and think that they are satan on earth. The problem is, I am a size 8.5 shoe, maybe even an 8 on some brands. This means that I can never find socks that fit me. Most socks are made for sizes 4-6 or 9/10-13, leaving me....fucked. Every sock I buy ends up having the heel halfway up my leg and me in a pile of sadness.

Football

Last Saturday I got to go to the Cal-Eastern Washington game which started 7-7 and then ended 59-7. Cal is going to be awesome this year and will take USC down on October 3, but enough about that.

Football is a crazy game.

I say this because I went to the Cal game with four Israelis and before the game I was trying to explain how the game works, the rules, the different positions, etc etc and I had no idea how fucking hard it would be. It's kind of like speaking English I guess or the inch system or maybe even Cricket, it's easy if you know it but it makes no goddam sense otherwise.

The fact that there are different players for different times in the game, "downs" and first downs, the limited use of kicking the ball and penalties were all pretty beyond these otherwise perfectly intelligent people.

When we got to the game they yelled and cheered with everyone else but they were pretty much baffled, although they really enjoyed the culture of walking through Berkeley on a gameday and seeing sorority girls blacked out hanging out their windows screaming at 11am.

The other thing that confused them was how much starting and then stopping there is which I had never really considered, making it hard for them to get into the flow of the game.

It's an interesting thing, football is a sport I love and think I understand pretty well, along with Baseball and other fairly American things, to me they seem basic but this made me consider how crazy they really might be.

Boxer Blasphemy

I went to pee and tried to reach down and pull my PYTHON out and realized I put my boxers on backwards, the slit was in the back, this begs the question of when I take my after lunch atomic bomb, do I need to drop my boxers? Only time will tell.

Wine is not badass.

As I sit at my hourly wage job doing a particularly fine job at earning every single penny, I have the opportunity to contemplate my surroundings rather thoroughly. I work at a wine shop, so often when I contemplate, I contemplate wine. Today I am sitting and swirling some warm, boozy swill around the glass and I realized that most people are very snobby about this rather placid form of alcohol. I call wine "placid" because while it is elegant, sophisticated, and complex, it lacks the punch of reeling intoxication that other forms of fermented beverage produce.

Alcohol makes people do stupid, questionable, and sometimes dangerous things. Truth, spoken by me and experienced by anyone who has ever woken up on ceramic tile. Now I love wine, don't get me wrong, but there isn't a present danger with wine intoxication like there is with other forms of booze. You never see a man being beaten to shit by the cops and have someone lean in and tell you "he had too much Merlot tonight." Even if you WANTED to drink enough Merlot to make you want to fight the cops, you couldn't physically accomplish it. You would start drinking, get loud, get drunk, then if you drank too much you would throw up. That is all that happens with wine. You don't beat in your TV with a bat, you don't try to have sex with a couch, you don't call ex-girlfriends and scream at them on the phone. With wine, you either drink enough to have fun, or you drink too much and spit up like a baby.

Can you imagine if Slash from Guns N' Roses spit Zinfandel all over the crowd at a concert instead of Jack Daniels? Can you imagine if at a tailgate party they served a Riesling instead of Bud Light? Can you imagine if Neil Armstrong landed on the moon drunk on wine instead of gin? Not me, and I don't want to imagine it. Wine is many things, but wine will never be badass or dangerous. Wine is served in a glass with a stem, and this is why it is weak.

People Behaving Badly + other amazingness

My cousin Jonah posted something similar on Facebook and made me think that lately there has been a rash of public outbursts.

Oregon's RB sucker punched a dude after a game! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgCVZxzcZ1s

Congressman Joe Wilson had a tourette's attack and shouted down PRESIDENT Obama during an address to congress.

Serena Williams threatens to shove a ball down the throat of a line judge and then loses the match (slightly less epic than this earlier tennis post OR THIS ONE)

Kanye West took a shit on Taylor Swift's award the other night.

I think it's hilarious, as anyone who knows me, knows I love a good outburst so I think it's about time people show their true colors and act like babies and spoiled children, it's amazing and freeing to the soul.

And now, the promised amazingness:



and good ol' College Humor, never letting me down.

This happened!

I'm about to make a longer post about football, my dear love of the fall, but I have to show you all this, Federer is good, but also lucky, this unreal shot sets up match point and puts him into the finals at the US Open!

Morning comfort

After a long hiatus I found my bathrobe and I'm nothing short of thrilled. I really enjoy putting it on in the morning so I don't feel like anything too important has started, except another day in comfort.

On Leaving and Coming Back

I'm not sure I'm going to say anything unique here, but I think maybe it's a different wrinkle on a classic We have all taken trips in our lives. Whether they are short or long or local or far-away they have an effect on us and we return at least slightly changed or feeling differently about things. Whether it was a hike to the coast or in the woods, a week long trip to the desert or a months-long journey to another country, these experiences powerfully impact us, and most importantly change us.

It's common for people people returning from a journey to get asked if everything seems different when they come back to home, wherever that is. It's also common to get asked "so, how was it?" but that is another infuriating rant on its own, I will attempt to stay focused. The thing is, the reasoning is flawed, it's not that the shock is that everything seems different. It is precisely the opposite. Everything is brutally, painfully similar. I remember after coming back from 3.5 months in SE Asia I arrived home, greeted my parents, drove home and watched them go about their same routine, put my stuff back in my same room, went over to my friends house and was kicking it just like old times. People wanted to know "so, how was it?" but no one seemed to understand my shock that life was going on despite the fact that I'd been seeing elephants and monkeys and transvestite hoookers for months on end. That is the hardest reality about traveling anywhere, it is an inherently selfish act where it becomes hard to believe the whole world hasn't been on a similar journey. Our shock is not at how different everything seems but at how similar and unaffected everything is.

people weirder than me

after some indecision and swine flu I'm pumped to be off to Burning Man in a few short hours where I will cavort with topless old women and watch dorky techies take drugs and drive around cars they thought up on their breaks at work. I bought my two trusty disposable cameras so expect some pictures in about three weeks or whenever my brain restarts.

meow goes the cougar

This is pretty priceless. Although photo number 10 really leaves a lot of unanswered questions.

things that crash the internet

1. Michael Jackson dying.

2. Gmail being down.

What the fuck is wrong with our society? I'm seriously disturbed.

The improvement in women's tennis

I've always been into tennis, playing recreationally (you may recall my tennis challenge from this spring) and watching the major events on TV. I'm also sick of playing nice. Let's get real. I like hot women and I don't know why but the absolute bang-ability (unfortunately not translating to my ability to do so) of the modern women's tennis game is off the charts. Below are photos of three of the top players from the 80's and 90's.








Yikes. Looks like they took a two handed backhand from daddy out of the womb!

Now here are some of the top players from now.




Game. Set. Match. Love.

Ikea=terrifying

Boredom and a sense of adventure led me to accompany two women who recently moved into my neighborhood on a trip to furnish their kitchen. It was a journey through light and mainly into darkness where I learned a lot about women and also commerce.

These women both were very picky about what kind of plates and cups they wanted even though we were in Ross and then Ikea they somehow went through everything. They also didn't want to spend a lot of money so it quickly descended into a game of passive aggressive hatred where they would each hate on whatever the other one picked out by either commenting on its style (those cups are too thin) or the price (oh man, 23 bucks for a set of knives) so it was a painstaking procedure which yielded items that were no more special than if I had thrown a dart at the aisle.

It made me think that when Alex or I need something we just go get it, usually little to no discussion and certainly not about aesthetics. I just love being a man. We are low on mugs, we go get some fucking mugs, if they suck we throw them out.

Then, Ikea, shit, Ikea man. How many of you have been there? I wrote "ikea is terrifying" on my status on Facebook and that shit had 3 comments in under 10 minutes so clearly I struck a chord. I gotta say, that place creeped me out. Whether it was the mind-manipulation of the floor plan, the utter cornucopia of very cheap and low quality merchandise or the fact that the store had these little mini worlds in it you could completely construct for yourself it was a trip. I don't think I'll be back soon.

Bracelets

Bracelets, is it legit for a man to wear them? Sometimes yes, sometimes no, and it entirely depends on what type of fashion statement you're trying to make.

The first type of bracelet that it is always legit to wear is what the Dungeons & Dragons community prefer to call a bracer. Bracers are elongated bracelets, commonly used back in the swordfighting days to protect your forearms against getting chopped off. As far as I can tell bracers are also used in place of wearing a shirt. As you can see from the gubernatorial portrait of Mssr. Arnold Schwarzenegger, having little pearl-like dangly-thingies hanging from your bracer does not make it unmanly, but if you choose to take this particular fashion route you must also be carrying a sword in the hand that is paired with the pearly bracer.

The next type of bracelet that it is always legit to wear is sweatbands. Extra points if your sweatbands contain a playbook. Extra points if you are also dating a supermodel. The sweatband is similar to the bracer in that its manly appropriateness entirely depends on how dominant of a force the wearer is. A 4'8'' 300lb. 6th grader trying to make the middle school team does not necessarily fall into the category of "stylistically legit" just because he spent $50 on a package of uniform-matching Under Armour sweatbands.

 

 The "cause" bracelet is touchy territory. At times it can show a sensitivity and cultural awareness that the bracer and the sweatband do not exhibit, but the cause bracelet also falls victim to the vicious trend vulture. Men must avoid jewelry trends at all costs, and even if it benefits a good cause, the donning of trendy jewelry must be used with care. By no means should you ever wear a "false" cause bracelet. Livestrong is fine, you can even get away with a pink breast cancer awareness bracelet. Just don't wear a green one that has a pot leaf and says "legalize it." You will just look like a douche.

what? huh? where am I?

Due to global warming and the impending return of el nino, the Monstro Blog went on a mistaken summer hibernation. Full blame for this should fall on Monstro meteorologist Drew Lorona who mistakenly sailed the ship into a cave of silence.

Now we are reborn. Rebirthed amidst my week of flu-riddled delirium. Prepare yourselves world, you have been warned.

There is a moth.

This moth is flapping against my ceiling. I heard somewhere that moths can detect treasure, so instead of killing the moth, I am used it as a sounding rod to find all the treasure hidden up in my attic. The sad part is, instead of using the attic access, I decided to "dig" for the treasure. Dig up. I put a hole into the ceiling with this sledge hammer I bought online (don't ask, it has to do with zombie preparedness) and sure enough that moth had found all sorts of treasure. Here is a list of things that I found:

- Double-headed calf, frozen in time with the art of taxidermy.
- Collection of stamps featuring the art of Andy Warhol, in an envelope addressed to Andy Warhol and a letter from my grandpa to Andy Warhol saying he wanted his money back for those fucking stamps.
- A pipe with water flowing out of it. Did a check to see if the pipe was some sort of "Pipe of Youth" but alas was still wounded by blade of pocketknife. Sink in kitchen no longer works. 
- A box of fake soccer jerseys.
- A bunch of those lozenge-shaped smooshy pillows that were really popular in airport kiosks for a while.
- A gold-plated human skull with "Ernest Hemingway" stamped onto the forehead. I believe it to be fake, but the jawline is strikingly similar.
- A live monkey in a cage. This was a bit confusing because nobody had been inside the attic for some time. I was about to ask the monkey how it was able to survive for so long but held back because, obviously, monkeys can't talk. The monkey was staring at me and nodding slowly.
- The monkey had in its hand a key. After tricking the monkey to trade a key for an apple (I always carry an apple for monkey tricking emergencies) I found the key opened a large chest in the back of the attic. In the chest was a map of Antarctica, unfrozen, covered with towns, roads, and various landmarks.

So after I found all this weird stuff I of course put it up on Craigslist. I got about $200 for everything when it was all said and done, but I was unable to sell the monkey so I kept it up in the attic. Every once in a while that moth comes back and will "thwap thwap thwap" against the ceiling, but now I don't attribute it to the moth's treasure-finding abilities, but the monkey's mind control abilities.


-

RIP Michael Jackson

Along with Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson died today, although sources were not sure if it was confirmed for awhile, now it is, the weirdest guy ever has passed on to the next life.

Allergies.

Mankind will not be killed by a massive meteor. Mankind will not be killed by numerous nukes. Mankind will not be killed by a vicious virus, or vampiric velociraptors. Mankind will not be killed by smoldering smog. Mankind will not be killed by excessive eating.

Mankind will be killed by allergies. I stare out my glass window at the foe. They float along on small micro-currents of air, backlit and visible on this rare occasion. The air I breathe is full of these allergens, and they are numerous. Seeds, flowers, trees, birds, mammals, stones even. Everything in nature emits fine particulate matter that catches on the gusting summer winds and blows directly into my eye, PAST my $500 Booth & Bruce defense system and directly into my eyeballs.

I will die, suffering, cursing this foe. It is numerous, unrelenting, unliving. It is the planet killing us for our indiscretions. To mother Earth I say in response, do your worst.

NYC Observations, 2

Homeless Ed

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, my name is Homeless Ed. You can call me homeless for short."
This is how Homeless Ed introduces himself on the subway. This is how Homeless Ed begins his long and remarkably articulate speech about why the kind people of the subway should give him some money to get by. Homeless Ed was wearing yellow sweatpants and a pair of sneakers with the backs smashed down, what I like to call the Slipper Conversion. These are sure signs of a man who has ceased to concern himself with the opinions others may have about his wardrobe. This is especially unique for a city like New York, where everyone walks around astutely aware that behind every set of eyes is a potential fashion-oriented judgement. Homeless Ed did not care about what he looked like. Homeless Ed just wanted some money, "or maybe some deodorant, so I can smell human again. Then maybe people will start treating me like a human again." After Homeless Ed made this accurate observation about his appearance and odor, he sobered the speech he was giving. It was obvious Homeless Ed was a smart guy, probably troubled by some mental disease, but he knew he looked horrible. He knew he smelled horrible. He carried his stuff around in trash bags. He just wanted some money, maybe some deodorant, "I love you all, because that's what Jesus would do" he concluded. Homeless Ed got a few bucks, then changed trains. I think he was avoiding the older homeless man who got on at the next stop and started singing Kiss From A Rose by Seal.

NYC Observations, 1

Sorry I've been so long departed my beloved blog, but I was working my butt off in preparation for a much-needed vacation to New York City. I just arrived home from the Big Apple, and I'll get back into the groove of things by sharing some funny observations in the form of brief and cleverly titled short essays.


The Mystery Spots

While strolling through the crowded and wet streets of a foggy New York, I noticed more and more often some anomalous spots of "stuff" splattered onto walls in the subways, on the streets, and even in bathrooms. I say "stuff" because no material I have come into contact with in my 25 years of existence has possessed the properties of these mystery spots. One spot hung in defiance of gravity from a wall in Brooklyn, resembling a hardened pile of brown Jello pudding. Another spot was across the subway tracks, and looked like a troll with a cold sneezed out the entire contents of its lungs. Another spot posessed some geometric properties, yet had the distinct appearance that it was melting, kind of like that stuff you make in elementary school out corn starch and water that is both a solid and a liquid. Needless to say I immediately contemplated all the unseen mystery spots that existed around the city, and stopped using the handrails and started flushing urinals with my shoe.

Ten Toes Takaki surfs on to the great beyond

Remember our graduation speaker Ronald Takaki? That guy who talked about surfing and his book? Well, he died.

Re: Flossing

For the none of you that remember it, I posted an entry on April 9, 2009 entitled, "Flossing." In this email I recounted how dentists will make you bleed at all costs no matter what in order to utter the line that apparently they are required to tell you every time you visit, "Your gums are bleeding, you really need to floss more."

So I had my appointment yesterday and I was feeling pretty confident since I had flossed very consistently for over a month, although I hit a few dry spells.

Sure enough she prodded my gums with a sharp metal tool until they bled and then told me I had the beginning signs of gum disease. There really is no winner here. Maybe just the cold indifference of nature.

Buzkashi: Medieval Awesomeness...Today

Buzkashi is the national sport of Aghanistan, and holy shit if it isn't the most barbaric awesomeness. Here is a report CNN did of the game where you appear to be on one of two teams trying to drag a dead animal carcass into a circled off area.

Bill Brasky

No, I didn't write any of these.
Yes, I love them.
Bill Brasky - keeping the legend alive.

• "Bill Brasky once used a live rattle snake as a condom!"
• "Brasky's family crest is a picture of a barracuda eating Neil Armstrong."
• "His poop is considered currency in Argentina."
• "I once saw him scissor-kick Angela Lansbury."
• "Did I ever tell you about the time Brasky took me out to go get a drink with him? We go off looking for a bar and we can't find one. Finally Brasky takes me to a vacant lot and says, 'Here we are.' We sat there for a year and a half—until sure enough, someone constructs a bar around us. Well, the day they opened we ordered a shot, drank it, and then burned the place to the ground. Brasky yelled over the roar of the flames, 'Always leave things the way you found 'em!'"
• "He once punched a hole in a cow just to see who was coming up the road."
• "He hated Mexicans! And he was half-Mexican! ...And he hated irony!"
• "The character of Johnny Appleseed was based on Brasky... except for the part about planting apple trees... and not raping men."
• "He did all the makeup on the Planet of the Apes movies."
• "He drives an ice cream truck covered in human skulls."
• "He used to shoot whiskey into his neck with a syringe."
• "He orchestrated the merger between UNICEF and Smith & Wesson."
• "They say Gene Roddenberry got the idea for Star Trek by listening to Brasky talk in his sleep."
• "Did I ever tell you about the time Brasky went hunting? Brasky decides he's going to hunt down all four of the Banana Splits. He stalks and kills every one of them with a machete. They all begged for their lives...except Fleegle."
• "We once had a bachelor party for Brasky. He ate the entire cake before we could tell him there was a stripper in it."
• "Brasky named the group Sha Na Na. They did not want to be called that."
• "If you drop a phonograph needle on Brasky's nipple, it plays the Beach Boys' Pet Sounds."
• "Did I ever tell you about the time he taught his son how to drive? He entered him in the Indy 500.The kid wrecked and died. Brasky said it would've happened sometime."
• "He breastfeeds John Madden!"
• "He killed Wolfman Jack with a trident."
• "He sleeps eight hours a night! Well, he was pretty normal when it came to that."
• "His first name is Bill!"
• "All the Yes album covers are Brasky family photos."
• "He once breastfed an injured flamingo back to health."

Michael Caine: Awesome

Michael Caine is awesome. He defines the word gravitas for me. He has great presence onscreen and surely if I ever saw him on a stage that would be multiplied greatly. He also apparently had a reputation in his younger years for constantly taking roles and working all the time. There is one quote in the article that was so fuckin' funny if for nothing else than its realness. Apparently Caine, while making lots of good films, also had no qualms about accepting roles in terrible films including something called "Jaws: The Revenge" (which I now absolutely must see). Regarding that film he remarked, "I have never seen it, but by all accounts it is terrible. However, I have seen the house that it built, and it is terrific." Now that's real talk. Michael Caine. What a baller.

For Simplicity's Sake

I think this whole economic downturn thing has had some adverse effects on my tried-and-true life goals, and I find myself reevaluating what I really want out of life.

I used to want a fast car, cool sneakers, an old man as a sidekick, and the ability to travel back in time.

This was back when our economy was booming, we had just beaten the Russians at a giant game of Nuclear Chess, and guys with haircuts that looked like a perched pelican were getting to sleep with women way, way, way out of their league.

Now that things have slowed down a bit and we aren't wandering around the globe deposing elected governments and replacing them with puppet dictators, priorities have changed. The things I thought I wanted when the economy was booming have really fallen to the wayside. When technology was affordable, I wanted all the newest stuff. Now, I don't mind the dusty old car that I have. I don't need the latest garments, and I don't mind living a bit outside the city. The pastoral life suits me, and the country provides forms of entertainment that really are much more exciting than anything in the city could provide.

All I need now is my trusty old car, some durable old clothes, a wise old friend, and a woman to cook me meals at night.

 Simplicty is a good thing.

News o' the Day

I was walking down the street when suddenly the sidewalk was blocked by two hipster sitting on their bikes making out outside a yoga studio. It was too fucking much so I distracted myself by browsing the news and found this incredibly....incredible article.

There are really two camps when reading this:

camp 1: My god, what has society come to that someone could kill someone else over a silly game!

camp 2: Goddam right he shot him, fool probably was probably counting tip ins or something. World still needs some honor and decency and good old fashion duels to settle life's squabbles.

Challenge thrown down

I challenged Meghan here to take a cheesy tourist amphibious boat tour and convince them to let her drive the boat. Drew convinced me making people feel awkward isn't necessarily a good dare but forcing them to do someting they probably aren't allowed to is better. We'll see how she does, if she fails at this she is going to have to foot race a homeless person.

Monstro Blog series: The LA tennis challenge -- Match Recap!!!

Mother Nature put my rantings aside and as I rose to head to the airport around 6am this morning the weather was cloudy, windy but dry. David met me and we went to the courts shortly after since the weather was holding but we didn't want to take any chances on it changing. Here is the match recap (just to remind, it was a best of 3 sets):

Like the true athletes we are, Dave and I stretched and warmed up for about 5 minutes. I informed Dave he'd have to kill me to beat me but honestly he was a lot better than I remembered and I was feeling really tentative like I couldn't pull the trigger on my shots.

First set: Dave jumped out to a 3-0 lead although the games themselves were pretty good. I was feeling pretty dumb at this point for spending a week practicing and blogging and going down for this match. I put it together a little better in the second part of the set but ended up losing the set 6-4.

Second set: My back was to the wall here so I jumped out like a bat out of hell and went up 3-0, playing much better and more aggressively. It went to 3-1 and then to 4-2 at which point I began to completely meltdown. A combination of me playing out of my mind at the beginning of the set and starting to get really fatigued probably contributed to this but suddenly the score was 5-5 and I was dangerously close to having things end. I lost my serve to put Dave up 6-5, serving for the match but I gutted out that game to pull it back to 6-6 and force a tiebreaker. When I couldn't put the set the away and it went to 5-5 my morale was at a low, I had blown a huge lead and lost momentum but I roared back hard and took the tiebreaker 7-2 and put Dave on his heels.

Third set: I was banking on my heart and endurance but holy shit I was gassed at this point, I had to just assume David was worse off. The third set was textbook, we were on serve until 4-4 when I broke Dave to go up 5-4 and then served for the win and took the third set 6-4, total match time of around three hours. It was an epic match and I'm amazed I pulled it out, I was very consistent for not playing much but pretty defensive the whole time, I got somewhat lucky but I'll take it.

Post match it was too cold an windy for the beach so we visited with our friend Kim Bong Il and spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know horse racing culture through Kentucky Derby coverage, although Dave had to pay me for my flight, he did inexplicably call 50-1 longshot Mine That Bird to win the Derby, although unfortunately for him we weren't betting, just making living room predictions. All in all a great and glorious day.

Monstro Blog series: The LA tennis challenge -- Day 5

Well, in addition to it raining in LA at the moment, there has also just been a small earthquake, so about 12 hours out, everything is going according to plan. Let's just assume that my aforementioned lover Mother Nature complies and we play tomorrow, here are the competitors.

Aaron Mandel
5'7"
165 lbs.
Berkeley, CA
Teen Program Coordinator at Camp Tawonga



David Gilliland
5'10"
220 lbs
Los Angeles, CA
Engineer at KW Engineering




The match is now out of our hands but if it goes down tomorrow I plan to return to the blog victorious! Expect an update tomorrow night.

Immediate help needed

My friend Meghan of Triple Dog Dare Me has given me the next dare for her blog. I am drawing a serious blank on what to dare her to do so any suggestions in the comment field her will be greatly appreciated. I have until Sunday at 6pm to submit my dare to her.

I have some words for you Mother Nature

I'll keep it short and not sweet at all.

You motherfucker! We are in a goddam drought and you have the nerve, THE NERVE, to make rain piss from the heavens the day before the tennis match of my life. Unbelievable. I thought April showers brought May flowers, not an April heat wave and drought bring a storm front at the beginning of May. That doesn't even rhyme. Goddam. It's probably going to be okay, weather says 30% chance of rain now.

Monstro Blog series: The LA tennis challenge -- Day 4

There are less than 48 hours left until I fly to LA to play my friend David in the tennis challenge with the winner paying for the cost of my airfare. It is well after 1am so my going to bed early plan lasted all of one day. However:

I played with a new partner with a real racket today and again felt good, although no better than yesterday.

Rain is forecast for LA on Saturday which is the only thing worse than getting Swine Flu from the recirculated air from the airplane. The ticket is nonrefundable so some higher power might really wanna fuck with me. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Click on over to our rival Glider Bison blog where Sam somehow managed to beat cycling legend Lance Armstrong in a stage of a race in New Meixco today!

Of Great Stature

While I was stretching my limbs in yoga class this morning, I noticed with dismay that I was the only member of the class that had their feet sticking off the edge of the mat. This morning, I woke with them poking out from underneath my comforter. Yesterday while I was browsing at a used clothing store in Boise, I was dismayed to find that all shirts that fit my torso were too long for my arms, and shirts long enough for my arms fit me like a mumu. This is a brief list of burdens that claim penalty upon my life for being tall.

I am, however, pretty lucky for a tall person. I live on the semi-convenient edge of the tall world. I live in the height suburbs on the north side of town.

At 6'4", my legs are just short enough that all major clothing manufaturers find it worth their time and money to make pants long enough for me. My size 13 feet are small enough that every brand of shoe extends me the honor of being the largest size they make. I can fit (though uncomoftably) in a regular row on an airline. I can drive a compact car manufactured in Asia.

What am I complaining about? Nothing, I guess.

Monstro Blog Series- The LA Tennis challenge DAY 3

Wednesday was Day 3 of my preparation for the LA tennis challenge against my friend David and I've started to make big strides. Here are some highlights:

- I hit TENNIS BALLS with a TENNIS RACKET on a TENNIS COURT last night with my friend, although since I only have one racket he had to use a racquetball racket but still, I was crushing some nice groundstrokes, feeling much better than I thought I would. My serves were okay in one direction and pretty good the other way. All in all I felt much better on the court than I thought, I think Dave might be in real trouble.

- I started preparing for waking up before 6am on match day in order to make it to Long Beach by going to bed before 11pm last night which, of course, made me more tired this morning than when I usually roll until like 1 in the morning but I'm going to assume that somewhere in my internal body bank I'm paying off sleep debt.

- In this time of widespread Swine Flu panic (oh my god 109 cases out of 300 million Americans!) I am flying to LA, which is close to Mexico, which is close to the epicenter of the storm. This series might then spawn another series called "Monstro Blog presents: Mandel live swine flu symptom blog" which might significantly bump up our readership so I fully intend to sit next to the sneezing,hacking coughing phlegmy fat person on the flight.

- Today and tomorrow I'll be doing more court practice as well so all I can say is that this is going to be the match of the century, I'm getting that plane ticket paid for and I'm prepared to die on the court!

Monstro Blog series: The LA tennis challenge -- Day 2

It is day 2 of my training for Saturday's tennis showdown in LA.

I rode in a car with someone recently back from Mexico. Can you say swine flu!

I played a game of softball without getting pegged in the leg again.

I watched born 2 ride double fault three times.

I'm getting there.

Stay tuned.