Archive - May 2005


    Iím probably about to make some enemies.  Twenty years ago I would have been branded a communist for even thinking it.  Fifty years ago I would have been dragged naked through the streets for saying it.  I canít say what will happen to me today, but I feel so strongly about this issue, I can no longer keep quiet.  And like so many activists before, I believe this matter to be so important that I am willing to risk life and limb (figuratively speaking, of course) to see that the word gets out.  So here it is, no apologies.

Baseball sucks.

     I know itís hailed as the American pastime, but isnít it really just past its time?  Does anyone really give a shit about it anymore?  And if it is such a great event, why do they build mammoth baseball parks capable of holding fifty thousand screaming fans, when only twenty-seven people ever show up at once?  And nineteen of them got their tickets free with an oil change. 

      Youíll forgive me if I stumble over attempts to refer to baseball players as finely tuned athletes.  I am troubled by a sport whose best athletes have larger beer guts than I do.  (This does NOT include bowling which makes no such assertions about its participantís athletic prowess.)  If you make seven million dollars a year to play a sport, you should at least LOOK like you could run one lap without blacking out and having a near death experience.  Iím not saying theyíre overpaid, but they are.

       Perhaps Iíll be accused of not understanding the nuances of the game.  That if I would just spend every waking moment memorizing ERAís and RBIís and fourteen other stats that have no impact on the outcome of any game, that then and only then would I develop the proper respect for the game.  However, this would only serve to take up what precious little memory space I have left, and in doing so force out such useful information as which local bar has nickel wings on Tuesday, and which has them on Thursday.  To those people I say, if studying was so much fun, I wouldnít have had to take first semester physics three times, to get a D. 

       Some of you may be shocked by this diatribe.  ďBut Buddy,Ē youíll say, ďisnít it odd for you to come out in opposition to a perfectly good excuse to have a few beers?Ē  And once upon a time, youíd have been right.  But Iím older now, more mature.  I donít need a reason (valid or otherwise) to drink a couple of frosty ones.  I just need a place. 

       Now I donít want this to be one of those hypercritical rants.  No, I want to help baseball.  Perhaps I can offer some constructive criticism.  A few hints to help it regain its place in Americaís collective bosom.  (Ha-ha, I said bosom.)

  1. Donít play games at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday; of course no oneís going to come out. 
  2. Charge a quarter for a beer.  Start serving an hour before game time; keep serving for two hours after.  Then you can charge whatever you want for tickets.
  3. NINE innings?  Come on, letís make it five.
  4. Two words Ė bean ball.
  5. How about a little danger?  Right now, some one might skin a knee sliding into home.  Whereís the fun in that?  We need more than that.  And Iíve got just the cure Ė have the baseballs explode at random during the game.  Thatíll certainly increase the pace of the game.  Iíll warrant pitchers wonít wade through twenty minutes of signals from the catcher before throwing the ball.  And after a homerun, the people in the stands wonít be scrambling TOWARD the ball
  6. Take a page from the beer league softball playbook.  Chug a beer after crossing home plate.  Why, I once played in league where you brought a beer onto the field with you, and the only time there was a bench-clearing brawl was when an infield grounder knocked over the third basemanís beer.  Man, was he mad.

Just a few thoughts, baseball.  Iíve got more if youíre interested. 

Dear Grumpy,

My friend just recently broke up with her boyfriend, thank God. I, along with all of my friends hate him. But him, being the annoying short ass that he is, won't get over her and still hangs out with us. Why does he bother hanging out with people who hate him? He and his 4 foot self need to go with his Asian lover and talk about samurais and leave us the hell alone. Any ideas on how to get him to leave us alone? Because yelling isnít effective, and he claims he will ďKick me in the face.Ē Heís half my size.



Dear PMS,

Let's try to remember that, in the end, he is still a human being.  That's a important part of this equation.  And, as a human, he needs to be treated accordingly.  And here's a sample of what I know about human's.  Some human's don't respond to threats.  Some humans don't respond to hatred.  Some human's don't respond to being ignored (most do, however, so always keep that in your arsenal.)  But all humans respond to ridicule.  That's your sure-fire line of defense.

This human is short (per you), dating a Asian (again, per you), and has the ability to jump kick several feet into the air.  The first two we can use, and the last one seems unlikely, but if he can, then I apologize about you getting kicked in the face but at least now you can get a restraining order.

Remember, ridicule is always most effective when targeted specifically.  The smart-bomb vs. carpet-bomb approach.  So here we go. 

1.  Burn copies of Randy Newman's "Short People" and Carl Douglas' "Kung Fu Fighting" onto disc.  Have the disc in the cd player at all times and press play when they come around.

2.  Fart.  A lot.  Think about a midget in an elevator.  Short people are closer to the source of emission, and are therefore subjected to a concentrated odor.  Plus, people just don't know how to react to farts in public, so it's funny.

3.  Shower him with presents.  Go to the thrift store and buy kid's clothes and give them to him, saying things like "this will really bring out your eyes" or "I thought of you when I saw this" or "cuz you're really short, get it?"

Most of all, just have fun with it.

Hope that helps, 


Dear Grumpy,

There is this jerk in my first hour that hates me and I have thought over
the option of stabbing the life out of his body.  He always treats me
horrible and never considers my feelings.  I want him to die.

You are an expert at getting revenge so what should I do to cause him pain and crush his spirit into the fragmented shards that have crushed mine?


Dear ANGER (emphasis yours),

First of all, wow, you got some issues.  Secondly, no stabbing.  That's a rule.  As far as wanting him to die, be patient.  Unless he's related to Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, he'll die of his own accord.

As I mentioned above, ridicule is my preferred vehicle for revenge.  And ridicule is best when tailored for a specific target, but since I don't know much about this individual, I'll give some generic help.

Photoshop.  Tried and true.  Photoshop + gay porn.  Tried, true, and still funny.  Be careful when putting them up though, apparently a lot of school systems are beginning to frown on this.

Bake brownies for the class.  Mark his so you'll remember which one has the laxative in it.  Another classic.

Hope that helps,


Dear Grumpy,
Like many of us girls out there, I have a boy problem. The guy that I like (whom I'm pretty sure liked me back (we were at least pretty good friends)) suddenly stopped talking to me. I really like him and he was the first guy I ever slow danced with, which means a lot to me. I'm not sure if someone told him something bad about me, or if he thinks I donít like him or what. I was wondering what I should do about this; should I go up and ask him straight off, or should I just forget that his being friends with me ever happened?


Confused and Boy Crazy

Dear Confused,

Yikes, a real question.  These make me feel uncomfortable, but not like Uncle Wally used to.  Let me congratulate you, though, on your use of the word "whom."  Very nice.

The most likely reason that he's no longer talking to you is that he has discovered the joys of masturbation (if done properly, it can nearly eliminate the need for a female, plus you have a lot more money), or someone has told him that you have a penis larger than he does.  Could go either way on this one.  I'm all in favor of finding our why.  Worst case scenario you'll have the name of the person spreading the "penis" rumor, and that will come in handy (get it?  masturbation?  come in handy?)

Sorry about that.

Anyway, find out or don't find out.  Either way, remember this, women can masturbate too.

Hope that helps,


Dear Grumpy,

I really really really like this one girl. But she doesn't like me the way I
like her back.... she says she does, but I don't believe her. What should I
do to make her like me the way I like her???


Dear Loserface,

I'm really really really glad you wrote in.  I'm curious as to why you don't believe her.  Does she have someone else's dick in her mouth while she's professing her to love to you?  Because, as it turns out, that's a bad sign (damn you, Maggie Perwalter!). 

Making someone care for you is a tricky proposition.  Hatred - now that's an easy thing to get.  Unfortunately for you, those damn meddling politicians keep passing anti-stalking laws thereby making it even harder to find love in this cold, cold world.  A first step might be a name change.  Let Loserface become Herbert P. Stiffdick. 

May or may not help, but it's a start.  If all else fails, the next generation love dolls are supposed to be pretty good.

Hope that helps,


Dear Grumpy.

How do I go about setting up a cult with the sole purpose of
worshipping llamas with the inclusion of a bitch-slap on those who don't?


Dear Jasper,

Good news!  The federal government's new emphasis on counter terrorism has made it even easier to start your own cult - provided you don't use the words Allah or Jihad in your mission statement.  Just fill out Form 499-CS with the ATF, and you can start recruiting members.  (Form 499-CS includes a waiver absolving the ATF from any liability when, I mean, should you be killed during a raid on your compound).  An aside - don't call it a compound.  Compounds have been getting a bad rap of late.

The other beauty of cults is that you have free range regarding what happens in them.  IE - "What happens in the Branch Davidian Compound, stays in the Branch Davidian Compound."  (Unfortunately, what stayed in the Branch Davidian Compound were corpses - and lots of them (see ATF waiver (called the "Waco Effect" by insiders) above)).

Good luck, and enjoy.  I look forward to seeing an unflattering picture of you on CNN -top left corner over live footage of an ATF "investigation" of your doings.

Hope that helps,


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