Unemployed Ben

I wanna talk about something that is rarely discussed in polite society and that is masturbation.

Its rarely called that by anyone other than a mother or physician. I for one prefer to call it ‘tugging one out’. The word and action has very different meanings for each of the sexes. I know from personal experience when a young man hits around 13 its almost as natural as eating or breathing. This is when testoterone is flowing at astronomical rates through the body and any and everything reminds you of sex. I swear for about 13 to 16 I never even looked at a girls face, it was all tits and ass. Ok I still dont look at a woman’s face but you get what im putting down.

And not to mention that everything gives you a chubby; MTV, Cosmopolitan Mags, Victoria Secret catalogs, even round firm melons at the grocery store. MMmmm round firm melons….hold on a sec ill be right back.

5 minutes later Unemployed Ben returns. Dont worry I washed my hands.

The worst part is that to this day some 20 years later it is still happening, all of sudden something stirs up ‘the boys’ and then BAM!!!! The worst part when I was a kid was trying to find a little privacy during these times, I mean a lot of us have large families and never get to be alone so you have to get creative. Every guy has the porno stash as well, you cant afford a lock down vault with a combination so you find a stash either in a basement or attic. And then theres the one day when someone in your family finds it, now a brother is ok or even dad but if mom or sis finds it your screwed. All you can do is deny it. “What me??, I would never buy Big and Busty magazine mother, thats gross”. Then you blame your brother “I saw him coming home with brown paper bags and he was being very secretive”. Yep you’d throw a retarted kid under the bus to avoid getting caught with porn.

But now that I live alone I can let it all hang out, put one leg up on a chair and “let err rip’, ok ok I am just kidding on that last one but you get my point. Privacy is a beautiful thing, let me tell you what ive seen people do with feathers, chocolate, and edible underwear should not be seen by the general public.

Its not even like you can control it either as there have been times that I’ve been sitting down in a benign environment and Mr Happy perks up and wants to know what’s going on. “Hey what do we have in here? Oh she looks nice maybe she would like to get spanked. Oh yeah she a bad girl….a very naughty girl”. You instantly must start thinking of nasty and gross things to get Pedro to take a nap…..Kathy Bates…oh yeah thats starting to work….Hilary Clinton…..yep thats doing it…..Rosie O’Donnell…yep that did it… Mr. Softy has paid a visit to happy town.

Women dont have that problem, the only equivalent is the nipple and that also can indicate how cold it is outside. Plus if a women walks in a room with a pair of pencil erasers, all it does is make her seem more appealing. If a guy walked into a crowded room with the old stiff one eye poking out, we would get arrested.

I remember the first time I was getting a massage and everything was going well until she told me to flip over on my back. To this day I think she was trying to see how big of a tent I could make under that sheet. She got her wish and I swear a small asian family could have lived in the dwelling that appeared. I was laying there knowing that she pretty much did this on purpose and hoping soon that the oft rumored “happy ending” would be offered but she didn’t make a noise except for the audible gasp when seeing my three man tent. I mean c’mon I would have tipped her in the range of 20%.

Plus there are situations that all guys worry about, like what would happen if while we are checking out the newest Playboy and have a heart attack or stroke and end up getting found with the old jolly roger in one hand and the new Carmen Electra pictorial in the other. Not the way you want your family to remember you, let alone the way you want your landlord to find you. Make sure your obit reads “I read it for the articles….the articles…I swear”.

But this brings me to the reason why I have written this story and thats why women dont do it as often. Heck Ive even known women that have claimed to have never done it. Now I know that there are more vibrators sold in the US every year than Louis Vuitton handbags but I see a lot more of those high prices things hanging from shoulders than I do of the other and that just aint right. Women, I say you should dangle those things off your key ring, wear them like an accessory. I mean they come in all sorts of colors and sizes to fit any style. You can even say that they are ‘neck massagers’, you know the same thing you say to your neice when she finds one in your purse when she was looking for a peice of gum. At the very least could you at least lie about it, that way I wont feel like such a giant perv. Okay I might be a giant perv anyway but that doesnt mean that when you see me on the sidewalk you scream it out for everyone to hear. Aahh fuck it, yell it…scream it…hire a skywriter, it might get more play. Some women like a perv.

I mean c’mon even Seinfeld had an entire episode on this called ‘The contest’. The essence of the show was a challenge among men and Elaine to see how long they could hold from doing some self service. Each bet $100 (they made Elaine put up $150 because women are different), Cosmo Kramer dropped out within minutes (”I’m out!”) after seeing a naked lady in a window across the street. Jerry commented he was still “Lord of the Manor”; George said he was still “King of the County”; and Elaine asserted she was “Queen of the Castle.” Why did they have to say these things, because the censors would not allow them to say the actual word masturbation. This Originally aired: Wednesday November 18, 1992. I mean 14 years ago people, have we not grown up since then? Did seeing Janet Jackson’s titty on Superbowl Sunday really cause us to take 3 steps back? Damn you Puritan bastards!!!!

Maybe thats the thing, your afraid to say it because you dont like the word masturbation. So with that, I will suggest some new exciting euphemisms for term and hopefully this will make it more socially acceptable for women to admit that are just as horny as us. Ok that is going to far, single women cause after cutting that wedding cake its back to the “Badgering the witness” for hubby.

Here are a few that I think would be almost fun to say:
Abusing the wicked stick
Adjusting the antenna
Aiding and abetting a known felon
Applying the hand brake
Arguing with Henry Longfellow
Audition your hand puppet
Blow your own horn
Bludgeon the beefsteak
Brushing up on your typing skills
Calling down for more mayo
Calling in the secret service
Choke the sheriff and wait for the posse to come
Clean your rifle
Cleaning out your bank account
Debugging the hard drive
Defrosting the fridge
Fastening the chin strap on the helmet of love
Fishing with dynamite
Five knuckle shuffle
Flick your Bic
Flipping your omelet
Go on a date with Handrea and Palmela
Holding the sausage hostage
Left to your own devices
Letting the cat out of the bag
Liquidating the inventory
Make the bald man puke
Making a cash withdrawal
Making chowder with sailor Ned
Oil the glove
One gun salute
One man band
Painting the picket fence
Paying at the turnpike
Playing a little five-on-one
Play tug-o-war with Cyclops
Pounding the fence post
Pulling the goalie
Pulling yourself up by your own bootstrap
Relishing your hot dog
Saluting the general
Shaking hands with Yul Brynner
Take matters into your own hands
Taking a few practice shots
Testing your batteries
Unpacking the moving van
Walk the plank
Walking a mile in Mr. Wiggly’s shoes
Working without Annette (My personal fav) Without a net?? Get it?? Oh snap… thats got a dual meaning, right Amy?

Well the mailman just brought the new Victoria Secret catalog so I am going to go Hans Solo on Darth Vader’s head….peace.

Its been awhile since I’ve updated you on what’s happenin’ in Unemployed Ben’s life so here we go.

Its been 3 weeks since I moved in with my brother and its been about what I expected, we don’t really get along all that well…never have. We mostly argue about stupid shit, its usually petty but for some reason we can’t seem to break these patterns. However he was the only one in my family that gave me a room when I needed it so I’m trying my best to get along.

Someone close to me recently said that I’ve changed, that I’m not the same person I was a year ago and they weren’t saying that it was for the better. After I thought about, I’d have to agree. I looked over my blog and in the beginning it was funny and light hearted, then it started turning a little bitter and sometimes hateful, then it turned dark and solemn.

I’ve always enjoyed making people laugh and its one of the reasons I so easily make friends ass eople like to laugh and hang out with funny people. But the less and less I make people laugh, the more my real personality comes out and it aint so pretty. When I’m like this I’m not that fun to be around, I’m not even likeable. But most of all I find that I don’t really laugh as much as used to.

So I said to myself ‘enough of your bitchin, fight through the boredom and motivate yourself to find some creative outlets. So in the past couple weeks I’ve been cooking more, reading more, and writing more. Still feel the same, fuck it I’d rather be bitter than boring.

Still found some time to watch the tube and actually came across two things that I can recommend.

First was a special about the Presidents on the History channel. It covered all of them up until Hoover. It spent a half hour on each of them and it was quite interesting and opened my eyes to how people were elected back then and how the person with the second most votes became the VP even though that doesn’t really make sense as that would make the President and VP opposites. It seemed to encourage assasinations and in one 20 year span it happened 3 times. Good info presented in an unbiased view point, catch it if you can.

The second was Inside the Actors Studio, the guest was Dave Chappelle. It must have been filmed recently because he discussed his African vacation and the hiatus from his show. He is an amazingly intelligent man and seeing the other side of him was quite an experience. Of course he was funny but also very insightful. At one point James Lipton called him out on why his comedy was so funny and thats because of its layers. Dave seem quite impressed by this and went about saying that all his acts have deeper meaning and lots of layers. It was a great insight into an immensly talented man. See it on Bravo.

Heading to my 4th orthopedic surgeon in 12 months on Wednesday for another opinion on my back. Trying to keep an open mind but not such a big fan of being poked and prodded. I’ve been told that this Dr is different but we shall see. My sister is now facing her 4th…yes thats not a misprint 4th surgery. Her titanium screws snapped, something that apparently isnt possible, because the force on her spinal cloumn is so great. We have similiar conditions and she has opted for surgery, the result has been over 250k of Dr bills and yet still has a bad back. One thing ive learned is that surgeons will almost always operate because those elective operations pay for yachts and summer homes. Rarely do they even consider the fact that it might do nothing, they figure if it isnt a detrement then its worth trying. I luckily had a surgeon tell me the real story about how they act and how to ask the right questions. When I dropped these gems on the two other orthopedics I saw the look on their faces was priceless. They knew only a Dr could have told me that stuff so its a look that shows that someone has breached some type of code within the medical profession. Its mostly followed up by a laugh and a scratch of the head, its good to see the people who literally think they are god and knock them down a peg or two.

Well that’s the update in all its glory, now I will get into my famous mushroom pants and bake a pie. Yep cooking calms me, without cooking I might drink a lot more than I do and this house doesnt need another Zombied Rat-legged Hammer-blown Tosser.

From time to time a situation arrises that requires me to tell a tale from my days in the kitchen.

When I was about 19 and was a pantry chef at The Seattle Golf club and I had just been promoted to the night shift. This was a very demanding job as we usually had a party going on downstairs, a buffet upstairs, and 3 different menus in the main dinning room. We had a general ‘continental’ menu, an extensive bar menu and a ‘fine dining menu’. They like to seperate the menus into 3 types as golfers would be in the lounge, families would be in the main dining room and the fine diners would get the exclusive window seats.

At times it would quite difficult to keep up with the sheer volume of food. But over time I adapted to the job and actually started to learn some other aspects of the profession, including some display work. Once I started to do a passable job in this area I got assigned to work my first Easter brunch.

I was excited because from what I heard it was a good day for tips and as I was going to school and drinking most nights so I was cash poor. Some of my good spirits were dashed when I found out I needed to be in at 5am, that was about 6 hours after I got off on Saturday. But I only worked 30 hours a week so I decided to suck it up.

Me and my buddy Greg showed up at 4:55 the next morning and were shocked to see the head chef already cooking bacon and sausage. I could barely function and he had been at it for at least an hour. We went a conjured up a massive triple mocha and got changed into our Chef Wear, I even broke out my mushroom pants for the special day.

Over the course of the next 3 hours I help create 4 fruit mirrors and 3 seafood mirrors. It was my best display work to date and the chef even took pictures of them for the monthly newsletter.

My job for the day was going to be runner, I would basically just run food out and replenish the buffet. On days like this we had plenty of staff so we could handle the 800-900 people that would come in. The main dinning room sat around 300 so the whole room was turned over 3 times. They had 4 dishwashers there but I still felt bad for them. As every plate, fork and coffee cup would need to be washed at least a couple of time and thats not even all the pots and pans.

Then at about 20 minutes before the buffet was to open, we all heard a scream and as we wondered what had happened one of the cooks walked around to corner and was bleeding badly down his hand. It was a pretty deep cut and it soon became obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to work the rest of his shift. He was assigned to work the omelete bar for the day.

Soon the kitchen staff started to panic as it seemed no one else had ever done it before. After about 5 minutes the chef came over to me and asked if I would try it. I was a little leery as I had basically just stuck with cold food at this point and wasn’t very skilled with a saute pan let alone cooked an omelete.

He convinced me it wasnt too hard and that I would do well. I trusted his judgement, that was my first mistake. A found out later that no one else wanted to do it because it was pure hell.

I headed out to the omelete station and the guy that cut his finger, Phil, guided me throught the process. It was a 5 burner set-up and the first thing I did was get rid of one of them. I figured there was no way I could juggle that many at one time and Phil agreed. He showed me how to saute’ the ingredients first and then add the eggs after, then the secret to a great omelete, using the rubber spatula to lift one side of the partially cooked egg and then you tilt the pan so that the uncooked part runs under which helps it cook faster and more evenly. At this point came the tough part, the flip.

I wasn’t prepared for this part and immediatly started sweating. But he flipped it and it looked so easy. So I gave it a shot and it hit the side of the pan and fell apart. Not a good start at all. Phil then ran back to the kitchen and came back with a piece of toast. I told him I wasn’t hungry and then he told me I was a dumbass, yep this day was going well.

Then he tossed the toast in one of the pans and showed me the flipping motion. I tried it a few times and started to get the hang of it. The motion was simple and if the toast fell out of the pan it didn’t make a mess. After about 1 or so flips I saw that they started to seat people. I then started my last test omelette.

I tossed in the ingredients, heated them up, ladeled in the egg and did the tuck and tilt thing and then got ready for the flip. My hand was shaking but I managed to get the thing over well enough. I then added some cheese ane folded it over and laid it onto a plate.

Phil congratulated me and said I would do well then he took the plate and said thanks for the snack and took off back into the kitchen and then the hospital to get stiched up.

I was left all alone and the place was starting to fill up. The first few tables came up but stuck to fruit, muffins and alike. About 10 minutes later I got my first customer and made a flawless Denver, I started to think I was going to be okay. At that point a group of ten all walked up to my station and formed a line.

Holy shit, all of them wanted omelets and I had made a grand total of 2 and now I would have to make 4, all at the same time. I started my first 2 with out any problems, they were simple ham and cheese, but when I asked the 3rd person what the wanted they asked what ingredients I had.

What the fuck, I thought. They are all right in from of you and there are about 20 of them. As this was a high end restaraunt there was everything from basil, to smoked salmon to pesto.
But what the hell could I do, tell them to open their eyes? Nope all I could do was start rattling off the ingredients one by one. This is when an aspect of the job was coming to light, most people had no clue what they want and they also expected me to put on a show for them.

This might have standard practice for the regular guy but I was barely able to flip the damn things over without them falling on my shoe.

So after I had announced most of the ingredients, they picked about half of them. I thought to myself thats too much fucking shit for this small ass pan. As I piled all this shit into a pan I started to notice the other 2 pans were getting pretty hot and the ham was sizzling pretty good. I then scrambled to add egg to them and get another order going. Then the 4th person asked if I had crab, I told her it didn’t look like I did. She then asked me to get some from the kitchen as it was her favorite.

At this point I’m about to fucking lose it when I notice the line to my station had grown to over 20 people.

I was now in almost full panic mode when I saw another cook and asked him to bring me some crab. At this point I flipped the 1st 2 ham and eggers and heard a comment from someone in line.
“He doesn’t flip them very high does he?”

I couldn’t believe my ears, I was maybe 15 minutes into what would be a 5 hour shift out there in front of all these people and it seemed everyone was an asshole. I started to imagine what they would look like with about 2 cups of egg poured on their heads.

I was starting to get a little frustrated when another person asked why I wasn’t using all four of the pans. I didn’t even have a response for him and just went back to taking orders. I started to realize that I had to get all four pans sauteing even if it meant turning some burners down so that I could get in a pattern of doing them all step by step.

Gradually over time I started to get the hang of it but everytime I looked up, the line seemed to be getting longer and longer. It was pretty obvious that I wouldn’t be seeing a break in the action for hours.

After about an hour or so the pans started getting pretty damn hot, and even though the handles had the cool touch grips they started to get so warm they no longer held their grip. So I would have to flip them up on end as I cleaned the pans and force them down again. Of course this made my left forefinger rather warm and it would eventually go numb.

I started to realize that this was the worst job in the world. You were under constant scrutiny and no one even thanked you. They all seemed put out by the fact that they had to wait for food.

But then something happened that changed my attitude. This older lady ordered a Ham and onion and when it was time to flip it she asked me how I could high I could make it go, I told her about 6-10 inches, she responded that I should be able to go higher than that. It seemed I was finding every asshole in the city today and so I said Ill try to do it as high as I can. Then I put some extra oomph into it and flipped it about 2 feet in the air, at the apex of the flip a piece of sizzling ham flew out of the pan with a high arcing trajectory, I then caught the rest of the omelete and looked up just in time to see that projectile of pork hit her right in the forehead. WACK!!!

It was awesome!!! It was right between the eyes and even left a grease mark. She stepped back and acted like she was shot with a gun, but the next person in line told her that she got what she asked for and started laughing. Of course this got everyone else going as well and she stormed off. Of course I couldnt help laughing as well, it seemed to break the tension. I soon started to feel that the rest of the day would go better than the first half, as all I had to do was envision the horrified looked of the old ham face and it would bring a smile to my face.

The line never smaller until we were near closing time and I flipped over 350 of those bad boys that day. After the last table had their food I bolted like Ben Johnson out of the sprinters blocks. I got back into the comfy and shielded confines of the kitchen, went out onto the loading dock and sat down in utter exaustion. A couple minutes later the head chef came out and shook my hand…the highligt of the day to be sure. About 2 hours later when I was sitting in the bar having a beer with the rest of the kitchen crew I was handed my tips for the day. It seemed that the waiters got together and decided to gice me a full share of the tips, I opened the envelope and 220 bucks fell out. Not a bad take and it almost worth while….almost.

But due to the burners that we used that took the mini propane tanks, the smell of propane and eggs mixed together and made me a sick to my stomach. To this day anytime I smell eggs or even see them I get repulsed.

So there you go, another rambling tale from the kitchen.

You’ve heard the rumors on the Internet and in the back of seedy bars same as me. An underground movement has been forming for sometime and until recently they have stayed under the radar, hell I just thought it was one of those urban myths, that is until I came to face with the reality of it today.

I was having a typical day and I heard a knock at the door, the man outside looked normal and yet somewhat familiar to me, so I answered the door and found myself fact to face with a man with a shaved head, a goatee and what appeared to be a cashmere overcoat. He simply said ‘Hello I am with the Bremertons” and then 6 other men wearing similar attire but donning ski masks pushed through the door and proceeded to hog tie me. I tried to resist but they were far too strong. What seemed to be a burlap sack was put over my head; I was then carried and rolled into what could only have been a large van or moving truck. Over the course of the next hour we drove and drove without a word being said. I asked what was going on but I soon realized that I was all alone in the back of the vehicle.

We came to a stop and heard doors being shut, I was then picked up and carried about a hundred feet and placed in a chair. The burlap sack was removed and what appeared to be dozens of nearly identical people stared back at me. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or that my mind just couldn’t make any sense of this. Soon I began to see that this group of people more than just dressed alike, all their mannerisms were the same. When one laughed the others laughed, when one said something the others repeated it. My mind was starting to understand that this appeared to be a cult, a cult of seemingly normal men that were part of a flock worshipping something or someone.

Chills went through my body as they told me I was first ‘non believer’ that they had ever allowed to see what they called inner Bremerton. They then outlined how and why they formed. It started simply enough, a man…. an educated man simply couldn’t find like minded people in the city he moved to for a new job. All the locals drank Bud longnecks and had Bush Country bumper stickers on all their trucks.

He grew lonely and began drinking nightly lamenting his fate. He grilled lamb chops but no one wanted to join him for this ‘fancy’ food. He drank his Reserve cabernet in the darkness wondering where his fellow sophisticants were hiding.

Then one day he found a Dean & Deluca and it was if he had found the holy land, it was like a dehydrated man wandering in the desert and finding a bubbling fountain of clean crisp and cold sparkling water. It was an oasis in a barren wasteland and it literally called to him.

Once he entered the main entrance he was like a kid in a candy store for the first time. Things he thought he would never see again were piled high and deep. Saffron, Prosciutto and even the ever-elusive Black Truffle. And then his eyes gazed upon what can only be described as the holy grail…bottles of 75 year old Balsamic Vinegar, the sweet thick goodness that had haunted his dreams since his move to a this virtual Siberia of culture and taste.

And just then as he caressed the bottle of liquid gold he looked up and then around this heaven on earth and began to see in the eyes of the other patrons a certain something that was lacking in his life and that was a spark of hope, the hope that there were other like minded people in this desolate wasteland of taste. And then they began to see each other, as eye contact is made they nod ever so slightly to each other knowing they were but a precious few in this area. It was mutual appreciation and it felt good to him to know that there were more like him out there.

As he stepped out of this perceived utopia and after spending 654 dollars, he saw a group of teenagers milling about outside. He remembered this type of thing when he was a young man but these kids weren’t looking for a 12 pack of Budweiser no what these kids said shocked him. “Hey do they have any Buffalo Mozzarella in there’? The bravest of the kids asked sheepishly.

He answered in the affirmative and the group of wayward kids let out an audible gasp. ‘I told you man…I told you’ one kid said to another. And then the ball dropped and one kid said with a feverish giggle ‘do you think could get us some’? ‘We saw this recipe for bruschetta and when we asked our parents to get us some they bought velvetta……Velveeta man’.

It’s that bad? Responded the man in the Cashmere coat. ‘I knew it was bad here but never THAT bad, come here and let me show you something’. He walked them over to car where he opened up his trunk, placed his bags inside and then one by one he pulled out gourmet item after gourmet item. After each one was lifted and brought into the light he would describe its orgin and ideal use, much to the delight of his audience. Schoolgirls screams and laughter greeted him each time a new product was revealed.

At the end, after everything had been seen, the leader of the boys asked in an hopeful manner ‘Teach us, we have no one here like you and we need to learn’.

‘Ok but only if we do it my way, no one questions…EVER’. Replied the man with the shaved head and goatee

Then it started a week later, Ricky, the first applicant showed up at the address he was given. It was in an industrial part of town and the house was weathered and looked abandoned but he did as he was told and climbed the stairs to the porch.

Ricky stands on the porch, staring ahead in subordinate military style. He’s in black pants, black shirt, black shoes, holds a Glistening Steel Mandolin, with an army surplus MATTRESS rolled-up at his feet.

Them man with the bald head, goatee emerged from the house:

THE LEADER
Um… what can I do for you, Ricky?

The leader steps up eye to eye, looks Ricky over.

THE LEADER
You’re too young. Sorry.

RICKY
“Too young?”

THE LEADER throws an index card at the foot of Ricky and saunters back inside
Ricky leans over to see what it has written on it:

If the applicant waits at the door
for three days without food, shelter
or encouragement, then he can enter
and begin training.

Over the course of the next three days he tests the applicanta will with verbal attacks.

Uh, look. You’re too… young to…
train here. You should probably be
on you way.

Are you deaf?! I told you to leave!
You will never get inside this house!

Look, friend, I’m sorry for the
misunderstanding. It’s not the end
of the world. Just go away. You’re
trespassing and I will call the
police. Nothing personal.

You’re never getting through this
door, you stupid little weasel! Look
at me when I talk to you… ! What is your major malfunction!?

The leader steps out

To all the following questions, Ricky answers “Sir!” —

THE LEADER
You have two black shirts? Two pair
black trousers? One pair black
boots? One set of chef knives? One
black coat? Three hundred dollars
personal burial money? Go inside.

Bob takes the place of where Ricky was standing.

THE LEADER
You’re too old. Sorry. And, you’re too fat.
Nice seeing you.

Bob looks genuinely hurt. He picks up his mattress and
starts away. The leader looks at Bob and rolls his eyes and hands him the index card.

And that’s the way it began, soon there are dozens of the applicants all over the house, TRIPLE-DECKER BUNKS clutter the basement, as many as can fit into the space.

This is where they stop talking and want to know what I’ve heard.

All I tell them is about the rumor that I had heard before, the one that I do involves the kidnapping of Emeril Lagasse and a threat of his balls being cut. Their laughter seems to confirm this so called rumor but they want to hear it anyways. So I begin to tell the story as I had heard it:

A series of events began when one day after Emeril commented on a news story about a recent string of arsons seemingly focused on various Kansas City Taco Bells and Arby’s.

EMERIL

We believe this is related to the
recent acts of vandalism around the
Midwest. It’s some kind of organized
group, and I am coordinating a
rigorous investigation.

This sets in motion a series of events intended to put a lid on this type of open discussion of the newly founded clandestine organization.

At an awards ceremonty where Emeril is being honored he is seen
Sauntering down an empty hall. He stops to check his
tie in a mirror. He pushes open the door of the MEN’S
BATHROOM — face to face with The Leader.

The Leader GRABS Emeril, pulling him into the
bathroom. He slaps a piece of tape over Jacobs’ mouth. The
rest of the Bremertons rush in. Ricky stays back to keep the door
shut. The Leader and the others hold Emeril, pulling down his
pants. Bob snaps a rubber band — reaches to Emeril’s crotch.

Bob produces a KNIFE, moves it down to Emeril’s testicles.
Emeril is bug-eyed.

THE LEADER
You’re not going to continue your
“rigorous investigation.” You will
publicly state that there is no
underground group. Or — imagine,
the rest of your life with your
scrotum flapping empty.

We’ll send one to the Gourmet Magazine
and one to the Food and Wine….Press release style. Your nuts will be bicoastal. Understood? The people you’re after are everyone you depend on.

We cook your food and serve you dinner.
We clear and wash your dishes. We prep food
while you sleep. We drive your produce truck.
We cut and age beef. Do not fuck with us.

Emeril pleads for mercy with his mouth taped
“no… please, no”

Bob makes a dramatic cut with the knife, causing Emeril to
JUMP — Bob holds up the severed…… RUBBER BAND.

After that no one mentions them again in public, they fly under the radar and stories of them are only repeated by drunks and conspiracy theorist.

So that leads me back to the present and my predicament of being in a room of what looks like psychotics with Johnny Cash’s fashion sense. They are swirling around with various chef knives seemingly glued to their hands. They all seem to be in an almost trance like state. I yell out but no one pays any attention.

And then a man I hadn’t seen in over two years stepped into my view, this is the man I had previously known as Bremer. I ask him what is going on and he tells me that I was there to spread the word of his good work.

So I start to ask a series of questions and he interrupts me

“The first rule of Project Mayhem is you do not ask questions.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Project Mayhem….?? what kinds up bad acid trip is this?’

BREMER
You’re asking questions that don’t
have answers. You know just as much
about Project Mayhem as anybody else.

UNEMPLOYED BEN
I don’t think that’s true.

BREMER
What will you wish you’d done before
you died?

UNEMPLOYED BEN
I don’t know! Nothing!

BREMER
If you died right now, how would you
feel about your life?

UNEMPLOYED BEN
I would feel nothing about my life?
Is that what you want to hear?!

That’s the last thing I remember, I woke up along the highway next to a sign that said Bremerton. I nearly shit myself, had de taken over an entire town? I didn’t know what to think but as I reached into my pockets I found an index card that said the following:

I know you’re out there…I can feel you now. I know that you’re afraid. You’re afraid of us, you’re afraid of change…I don’t know the future…I didn’t come here to tell you how this is going to end, I came here to tell you how this is going to begin. I’m going to show these people what you don’t want them to see. I’m going to show them a world without you…a world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world…where anything is possible.

I didn’t know what to do so I just started walking, the sun was starting to set so I figured I needed to find some type of public place where I could get my bearings and contemplate not only where I was but how to get home. I saw in the distance what could have only been a park, so I bravely ran across the busy highway and started on my journey back to civilization. Soon I reached the park and I sat down on a nearby bench exhausted both mentally and physically. I must have sat there for twenty minutes wondering what had happened and what it all really meant. Why had a former co-worker of mine formed what appeared to be an underground Para-military cult? And how the hell was I going to write a story on it, people would think I was nuts not to mention its not like I’m an author or columnist. All I have is a blog for god sake that is probably read by only a half dozen people.

And then it started to become clear, the fact that I was a nobody, an anonymous man in cyberspace that wouldn’t be taken seriously was exactly the point. I mean who would believe this story? No one except for people that are easily influenced and are not sure what to do in life, the lost souls looking for meaning.

Maybe it’s good that they are out there, knowing that not everyone is following the social norm. Their methods might be over the top but they believe in what they are doing and no matter how misguided I think it is, having a purpose is the most important thing one can have in life. People tend to live longer when they have something they need to do as opposed to things they would like to do.

So I did as I was instructed and wrote this story, I mean the last thing I want is someone out there plotting various ways of cutting off my balls.

On Thursday with doom and gloom forecasts I decided to head out to my mothers condo on the beach and really see how cold it really was about to get. I arrived and grabbed her digital camera and headed to a comfortable log while the rest of them headed out to dig for some oysters and clams. As I despise both of those slimy little bastards I stayed clear and waited for the sun to set. It was amazingly clear out and the sun was as bright as I can remember it ever being. I spent about 40 minutes out on that log and begun to realize that not only were my toes beginning to get numb but ‘my boys’ were trying to climb into my lower abdomen. So after rattling off a few pictures I ventured back into the house and then headed home to avoid the cold snap that did seem to be approaching. I stopped by a store for some staples, beer and potato chips, and drove the long stretch out to the boonies where I now live.

Today I checked out some of the pics and have posted a couple for you viewing pleasure.

Post Script:
I am writing a story on masturbation and needs to know your favorite euphomisms. I have listed a few of mine to get the ball rolling….so to speak.

Choking the chicken
Jerking the gerkin
Five knuckle shuffle
Beating the bishop
Spanking the monkey
Rosie Palm and her five beautiful daughters
Hand to gland combat
Communicating with Red Leader One
Tinkering With the R2 Unit

Today I will examine the phenomenon that is rarely talked about in our society and that is the hot girl rule.

This has affected most men and women in a negative fashion throughout our lives.

The Hot Girl is truly the one person in our country that is treated like no other.

You can say George W or even the republicans run this country but you’d be wrong. The people that run this country are the Hotties. They don’t have to buy their own food, their own drinks, they can shack up with any guy and thus not have to pay rent. They have an upper hand in any virtually any negotiation and they get discounts on everything they actually pay for. And if they have no skills whatsoever they can take off their clothes in a stripclub and makes insane amounts of money.

But in my opinion the worst example of the negative effect they have on our world is when they come face to face with a more qualified person and they still win out. Job interviews, apartment searches, getting bumped up to first class for no apparent reason. This needs to stop!!

Rarely do they have to pay the consequences for their actions, all they ever have to do is play dumb.

But I have an idea, no… more like a proposal. I say from this day forth we don’t give them any advantage, we don’t even look at them at bars. Can you imagine the effect this would have on society. All women on the same level….well except the fatties of course.

No more free rides, attractive women would actually have to put out to get some dinner, you know like the ugo’s have to. We shall, with a little united brotherhood, knock them down a peg or two. And with all the money we save we shall get mail order brides from Russia who still appreciate things like blue jeans and value meals!!!

This will take some sacrifice as you might have to hit a less than supple booty but it will be for a great cause. I mean maybe that average looking chic with the flat ass is a firecracker in the sack. I think they will be happy to be getting any attention at all and will make up for it with flexibility and creativity.

Together we can make this happen.

For the best of mankind please
try your best to resist this booty.

What is naked? Doesnt seem like a tough question does it? To most of us we know what naked is, its simply when you arent wearing any clothes, its the state your in when you take a shower or bath but recently there are many claims in the media about people posing naked. I hear so and so is naked in a magazine and that sounds pretty damn good to me so I search for these photos and what do I discover? That not only is the hottie du jour not naked but she is wearing more clothes than most cocktail waitresses. This is a tease and it really pisses me off. If you have someone wearing a see thru shirt and some hot pants it is not cool to pump up your magazine by saying you have a naked photo shoot when it simply isnt true. They think that because their sales go up and their website gets a spike in hits that this plan of deception has worked but what they dont realize is that horny men everywhere are pissed off when they see the supposedly ‘naked’ pictures. I for one get so pissed off I go out of my way to never buy one of the magazines again.

This brings me to my case in point to this months Vanity Fair issue where Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley are on the cover sans clothes, Rachel McAdams was actually suppossed to join them but freaked out on the set and suddenly realized that NOT getting paid for this was probably not the smartest way to go. So she bailed and that left a big hole, so to speak, to fill. So Anne Lebowitz gets the idea to add some male designer to the picture at the last moment and ruins what was destined to be a memorable cover. I dont ever want to see some dude laying next to a naked women in a magazine, I dont even care if its Hugh Hefner. Naked hot chics should not be subject to such baffoonery. Did either Scarlett and Keira protest or were they scared to offend Ms. Lebowitz? Dont get me wrong I think she is a talented photographer but she weilds far too much power for a person with such bad judgement. Sure she has the ultimate excuse, she is a woman and thus cant be held to the fire for any decision she makes but this time she isnt bitching at her man to change his shirt, take out the trash or help her friend move. Nope this time it actually means something, its naked women dammit and not just naked women its uber hotties that agreed to get buck ass naked, not kinda naked, not hiding behind pillows, not just showing their bare back…no this is what all men want, completely in the buff. So how does she call an audible when she sees the defense blitzing? She freaks out like Peyton Manning did in the Steeler game, she calls some weak as screen play when really a draw up the middle would have worked the best.

I mean my god this photo shoot happened in Hollywood, how can you not find a naked actress to fill in for this thing in about 10 minutes. Ill bet Carmen Electra was naked in the parking lot hoping something like this would happen. Pamela Anderson probably tried to skydive right on top the building to get in on this thing. Halle Berry was probably camped out in a tent on the set so that she can remind people that she looks good naked even though she cant act worth a fuck, and no Monsters Ball doesnt count because all she did was cry and hump Billy Bob, ok maybe she deserved something for having to screw Bad Santa but an award that doesnt mean something like a peoples choice award.

So getting back to the topic at hand, where in the world can a clothed man be substituted for a hot naked woman? This should be the first rule of photography if you have 3 naked hotties and 1 of the hotties gets cold feet, either shoot the 2 still willing naked hotties or find a fill in hottie that will only add to the hot nakedness. Never and I mean NEVER introduce a dude into said hotness.

Now to get technical, you dont really see much of the ‘goods’ as they have placed arms in strategic places but at least they are wearing nothing and that cant be bad can it? But that designer ruined this photo and he cant be blamed who wouldnt want to be the meat in that sandwich?

Other than the onset of fall this is my favorite time of the year. Why do you ask you nosey mutherfucker? Because this is the time of hope and as the bathroom stall has so eloquently scribbled on it, hope springs eternal.

Yesterday pitchers and catchers reported to Peoria Arizona and with them came the official start of spring. Sure its actually 23 degrees right now and my left nut hasnt dropped in a week but to me its still spring. I can feel the warth of the sun through guys named Kenji, Eduardo and Jarrod.

They symbolize something more than just the start of baseball they symbolize grass stains, hot dog wrappers and 8 dollar beers. Ok I could live without inflated beer prices but nothing to me is more calming than sitting in the stands on a sunny day watching the boys of summer.

I have been to a lot of baseball games in the five years since Seattle opened its first open air stadium since the mid 1970’s. I remember seeing my first game at The Safe and it was a beautiful summer evening. My brother and lifelong friend were lucky enough to obtain some sweet box seats at the box office and then we strolled through the main entrance. It was awe inspiring seeing the brick facade, as we the turnstiles there was a large sculpture on the ceiling of glass bats that seemed to be larger that my house…it set the tone for the whole day. We walked up the stairway and into the main concourse of the 1st level. Once we got past the mass of fans we saw what can only be described as Mecca. We were all standing behind home plate with mouths agape and eyes wide. The structure was massive, but that wasnt what captured our imaginations, it was the sun cascading onto the field filling every corner of the grass with natural light. We just stood and stared, harldy making a sound for over 5 minutes. We were rubber necking the whole place and it was sensory overload. Some people are art lovers, other love broadway musicals but we were men’s men and we loved baseball and now we had a cathedral to call our own.

When we finally got our composure we started to walk around the stadium and as we rounded past first base and into right field something became apparent to all of us, you could walk around the entire stadium and would still be able to watch the game. This might have been the coolest aspect of the whole park, while going to grab a brat or an ulfiltered wheat beer you could still watch the game. Never had any of us had been so happy that the kingdome was now set for destruction. We would no longer watch our professional sports from concrete slabs and breathe in recycled air, nope we would need sunscreen and Ray Ban’s.

We did a full lap around the field and were as silly as kids at Disneyland. We grabbed 3 cold beers, 3 italian sausages and proceeded to find our seats. As this was a first time for all of us we had no idea where our tickets would be. We soon found our section and started walking down the steps getting closer and closer to field level, we soon realized that these were great fucking seats, we had row 15 but because they were behind the visitors dugout it was actually row 4….Row 4 man!!!! As we settled into our seats my jaw was starting to hurt from smiling too long and wide. We couldnt believe the sight lines of these seats and were simply blown away. Players were a mere 20 feet away stretching and playing long toss, you could actually see the whites of their eyes to coin a parlance of another time.

The game lived up the everything that had came before it as Griffey and Arod hit back to home runs, Edgar doubled and The Bone threw a guy out at second trying to stretch a single into a two bagger, but most importantly they won 7 - 2. It was a great game and a great night. As we sat in FX McCrory’s after the game sipping on a single malt and it seemed like a dream, as it just couldnt have happened in the way it had. We were all on a natural high and then treated ourselves to a cigar to cap off the evening.

Hands down one of the best days of my life.

This is what spring means to me, a hope of geod things and even better times.

Few words invoke such images as “Road Trip”. For many it reminds them of such memories as a drive to Disneyland, summer camping andventures and trips to grandma’s house. For others its spring break and trips to Canada for underage drinking with all nude strippers.

A couple days ago a friend of mine embarked on a epic “roadie” and as I hardly even left my apartment in the past year let alone venture outside the city I shall live vicariously through him. He lives in Kansas City and is rolling on down to Austin Texas to party like a rock star. He sent me a few text messages along the way which detailed greasy spoon roadside cafes, ugly women, hick locals and the journey to find a liquor store. His journey is over 700 miles and that makes it a stage 3 roadie, the kind of roadie that can change the way your car will smell in the future.

His journey made me harken back to my youth and rekindle some long lost memories of a trip I took to Olympia when I was 16. We departed at 10pm in a Volkswagen Bug that had no working blinkers and a hole in the floor. What was our mission? Oh it was one for the ages, it involves three things that most teenagers craved.

1. Hard Rock, in this case Ozzy Osbourne at the Tacoma Dome
2. Some good weed, in this case the ever elusive thai stick
3. Horny women, in this case any women that might give us a rub and a tug if we got them to take a lot of #2 on this list

We were on a mission and nothing would stop us, except for the police that pulled us over 5 miles out of town. I actually knew the cop due to my Grandpa being a local sheriff and he took pity on us and let us go with a warning and a promise to go straight home. We of course ignored him and continued on our way to the state capitol. We arrived at 2 am and headed into the drivers house where we found his mother and her boyfriend roasting a doobie and drinking margaritas. I thought to myself that this will be a good weekend.

After passing around the ornate roach clip that was probably from Woodstock, we ate a bunch of chocolate chip cookies and fell asleep on various pieces of furniture. We awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon and the bright sunshine. We ate a hearty breakfast and headed off to go get the tickets we had purchased 3 weeks before. Charlie might have had his golden ticket but we had our tickets to Ozzy and as Willy Wonka wasnt going to be biting the heads off any bats so we had a leg up on that comparo.

Now the next mission, procure the oft rumored but never attained Thai Stick. This is something often compared to finding the holy grail. Everyone always says they know where to get some but once you get there its just regular old gonga…not that theres anything wrong with that. Its kinda like seeing a chic walking on a sidewalk ahead of you that is smoking hot but when you get even with her she turns around and has a face like a Buick.

But this time, this time it will be different, we all said to ourselves in an almost a mantra like chant as we pick up the guy who says he has the lowdown on where to get the stinky sticks of glourious sticky stuff. We roll up on a house that should have a blinking light that says ‘poor people live here’ but this does not deter us as we are still holding out hope for the ooey gooey skunky killer green bud. Our man with the plan heads into the house and is in there way to long, we start to think he has taken our money and tied some sheets together and bolted out a second story window on the backside of the house. We had waited 45 minutes for this guy when he finally emerges with a frown on his face and a sheepish look that communicates to us that not only did he not get the purple haired budulars that had been in our dreams but that he had come up dry all together. I wanted to ripe out his still beating heart and take a bite out of it in honor of his Ozzness, but I promise to wait until he confesses to his failure before I pounce, and then something that is burned into my memory happened, he pulled out a big bag of what hippies call the purple ‘cush. Yes that is correct not only did he obtain the greastest bounty for pot smokers in all land but he also got a shit load of it. He explains that the dealer was having a little boom boom with his girlfriend at the same time he knocked on the door and that he had to wait until he was done to get the score. Apparently this is the best time to get cheeba from this guy as he was in some post coitis haze and just kept putting more and more into a bag without much notice and then handed it over, at which time our newly crowned king of krunk bolted like Ben Johnson on fist full of greenies.

He went back to my friends house and we laid it all out on a table and it was GLORIOUS, it was almost as it was beaming light, as if it was glowing like some heavenly object. We had scored what amounted to 4 large sticks of about 8 inches in length that seemed to be about double of what we had paid for. We were in shock at not only our good fortune but at how stinky this mary jane was. It was as if a skunk had sprayed its spunk on all of us as it stuck to like glue to our clothes, hair and even skin. This of course didnt matter to us as the owner of the house had lit up like Cheech and Chong in this very room not 12 hours ago.

We had only one thing to do, try this shit out. We passed around a ceramic bong that resembled a skull and proceeded to get pie eyed. We all had one thing in common and that was none of use were able to hold that smoke in our lungs for much more than a second or two resulting in a room full of guys that could barely even function let alone communicate in anything other than subdued “dude and whoas”. We sat this way for well over an hour until the phone rang and scared the shit out of all of us. We soon got back to reality and realized that we needed to hook up with the girls that we were going to the concert with.

We got on the phone and advised the girls of our ‘discovery’ and that would be picking them up in an hour. We headed over there and the girls followed us all the way into Tacoma in thier ride. Luckily they were in a minivan and we were able to light up for another session, of course this made us all nearly nod off before we gained control of our senses. Because of the smell of this stuff it became obvious that there would be no way to smuggle any of this in even though we had the sneek a toke and a technique that always worked (In the shoe as the metal detector never went below the knee in those days). So me thinking outside the box told them about a time when I and some friends had stuffed some weed into a ho ho before heading into a movie because we didnt have the opportunity to spark up, it took awhile to kick in but worked well. We all agreed on this method and searched for a corner store, where we obtained twinkies, suzie q’s and the ding dongs that set this plan in motion.

In looking back we might have ‘overstuffed the turkey” so to speak but we all had our confectionaries in our gullets and we started walking to the venue. We got in the stadium with no real problems or delay and quickly found some seats in the bleachers. The opening band ‘The Half Breeds” came on and were quickly booed off the stage so as we were waiting for The Prince of Darkness to come on we all started talking about how it hadnt kicked in yet and that I was a dumbass for suggesting this method for getting high. It seemed everyone around us was getting high and we were questioning our paranoid choice to not sneak some in and then all of a sudden we all got quiet and started to zone out, soon thereafter Ozzy came out on stage and the entire place stood up and yelled in approval. Everyone except for us as we were now comatosed in sitting prone positions staring into the flashing lights. We were like soldiers that had been in ‘Nam too long, we had the 5 mile stare.

We could barely move and the people around us started laughing and mocking us for being too high but it didnt matter as we couldnt even stand up and salute his Ozzness with the devil horns he had made so famous. About 8 songs into the show we started to trip pretty hard on the laser show that was being lit on the dome roof, soon thereafter we were able to stand and get a little more into the show but to this day I couldnt tell you much of what happened at the show other than the laser show that I had seen a friend outside that said the show sucked and that I looked wasted as hell……he must have been sober.

That night we drove all the way back into town barely saying a word along the way and that will always be referred to as the Hostess summer concert series by me and my buds.

What do these three things have in common? The ultimate roadie!!!

Robert Cray might have said it best in his 1993 classic:

Coffee for my breakfast….
Shot of whiskey on the side

Its a dark and dreary morning…
With clouds covering up the sky

He captures my mood perfectly.

I suffered a great defeat, not only to my psyche but to my spirit today But no matter what I do I can’t fill this ever expanding chasm of emptiness. I am trying to avoid reminders of the beatdown in motown, staying away from tv, newspapers and radios.

This is my own form of mourning. I cannot go back to my former life because it will only be a reminder of what I lost. And that is hope. I have lost hope. Hope in all things. The place where hope lived is now only occupied by despair. My soul feels empty today.

I’m too sad to weep, too scared to heal. Part of me died today.

Today was supposed to be a good day, perhaps even a great day. But as with most things in my life it didn’t end the way I had hoped.

Frustration, anger but mostly just disapointment. Only a few things have made me feel this way: The 2004 Presidential Election and now Super Bowl 40.

I no longer care if George Bush ruins the world. I could give a flying fuck if the supreme court outlaws freedom. But most of all I don’t care about something I used to hold dear. Like a bitter mistress that wounded me like no woman has…the succubus that is football has ruined me. Some might say its only a football game but as a good friend of mine has said on occasion “sports is a metaphor for life”, that statement has never been as true as it is on this day.

I am not sure I can ever recover from such a loss, from such a defeat….well at least not until Spring Training starts in 2 weeks..

Hope Springs Eternal

I was around in 1979 when the Sonics won the NBA Championship but I was only 8 years old and while I was a fan it wasnt like it is today with multiple sports channels, it was harder to be a fan. Rarely did they get shown on the game of the week on CBS as the Lakers, Celtics and Knickerbockers were the big markets and the ones with the storied franchises. So if you wanted to see “Downtown” Freddy Brown or Gus “The Wizard” Williams you had to get in the car and head down to the old coliseum. On occasion for the bigger games they would play in the Kingdome and the local Boys Club would send a group of kids down. This is how I first saw a game in person and even though the seats were high up in the 3rd level it was still pretty damn cool.

And when they won the championship it became a vivid memory it will never hold the same cache as what is happening this weekend in Detroit. The Seahawks are a team that have never really gotten much respect even though they have some of the loudest fans in the world, a stunning state of the art stadium and the best offense in the NFL. The are tucked away in NW where few media outlets even visit and to me thats a good thing. The more people that visit this area the more that move here and to be honest we already have enough assholes from Los Angeles jacking up our real estate prices.

Its been an interesting two weeks seeing all the media attention given to the Steelers. One excuse ive heard a few times is that the Seahawks are too nice, too polite. They are generally good people and thats just too boring to write or talk about. How many times in the past decade has the media condemented Atheletes like Deion Sanders, Michael Irvin, Terrell Owens for being me first media whores. They wished for the wholesome atheletes like Johnny Unitas and Joe Montana but now that they have a team full of good people they dont see any merit to it. They have all been trained to attack and to stir up controversy. Maybe its all the sports radio, maybe its the advent of internet but I think its deeper than that, you always want what you cant have.

Too add to this even the most obvious things are skewed in the Steelers favor. Numerous people have been asked to compare who has the upper hand, Mike Holmgren or Bill Cowher. Ive heard some calling it a toss up and others calling Cowher the superior coach but not once did I see or hear anyone in The Head Coach of the Seattle Seahawks corner. Its interesting because looking at the history of success and their coaching pedigrees there really is no comparison.

Mike was a part of what a lot of people consider the finest coaching staff in the History of football, that of the late 80’s and early 90’s 49er staff that was headed by Bill Walsh.

Cowher began his coaching career in 1985 under Marty Schottenheimer with the Browns.

During his tenure with San Francisco, the 49ers posted a 71-23-1 (74.7%) regular-season record to reach the postseason each year, and won Super Bowl XXIII over the Cincinnati Bengals and Super Bowl XXIV over the Denver Broncos.

Cowher followed Shottenhiemer to Kansas City in 1995 and became the defensive coordinator.

Mike was head coach of the Green Bay Packers from 1992-1998, which became one of the most successful coaching stints in NFL history.

Cowher became the fifteenth head coach in Steelers history when he replaced Chuck Noll on January 21, 1992

Mike by winning at least one game in five consecutive postseasons (1993-1997) Holmgren joined John Madden (1973-1977) as the only coaches in league history to accomplish the feat

Cowher has lost 4 of 6 AFC Championships and the only Super Bowl in which he coached, 1995.

Mike has won 3 of the 4 Super Bowls in which he was a coach.

Mike’s Packers posted an NFL-best 48-16 (75.0%) record, finished first in the NFC Central Division three times, second once, and set a 7-3 mark in the playoffs between 1995 and 1998. By taking the Packers to six consecutive postseasons (1993-1998), Holmgren set a franchise record with a team that had had just two winning seasons in the 19 years before he was hired.

Mike assistants liter the NFL coaching ranks and he has developed more head coaches than any other head coach in NFL History. Mike Shannahan, Jon Gruden, Andy Reid, Mike Sherman, Dick Jauron, Steve Mariucci, Ray Rhodes. An amazing six of his former assistant coaches got Head Coaching gigs between 1997 and 2001.

Mike was on the staff when BYU won the NCAA football championship with in 1984.

Mike was as a quarterback at the University of Southern California from 1966-1969, playing on USC’s National Championship team of 1966.

To summarize Mike Holmgren has won a NCAA Chamoionship as both a player and a coach, he has won 3 super bowls and had changed the way the game is played. Virtually any and everyone that is lucky enough to be an assistant coach on his staff gets the opportunity to become a head coach. He has had the number one offense 6 times and a top five offense 10 times. He still calls his own plays and runs the purest form of the West Coast Offense seen in todays NFL.

Bill Cowher has never won a championship at any level and for the past 14 years while being the head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers hasnt coached either the offense or defense. He doesnt call the plays on either side of the ball. None of his assistants get head coaching jobs.

It seems the only reason he has lost the label of genius and guru was because he moved to Seattle and has been forgotten like the rest of his team. For a guy that is one of only four coaches to ever take two different teams to the Super Bowl and the only one that will have won with two teams he sure is getting the respect he deserves. Maybe after the victory parade is over is Seattle he can go to the Giants or Jets and get that genius tag reapplied, I for one hope he stays here and builds a dynasty that the NFL has never seen before.

But this time he is our Rodney Dangerfield and this is my time.

Its been awhile since my last update so I figured that I would say ‘hey whats going on’ to all my fans. I know that its hard to be without my wit for a prolonged amount of time and I promise that it will not leave you hanging again unless im otherwise indisposed ie; being kidnapped or jailed for a crime of passion involving Salma Hayek or Jessica Alba.

I am officially moved out of the Ghettoville apartments and that can only be a good thing. With the help of my friends and family the move was pretty painless as I rented a uhaul truck to make it a one trip scenario. The only real drama was the downpour that started about 30 minutes in and the ordeal of having to take apart my ‘offensive lineman” sofas. These are some bad ass sofas but they are fucking huge and wont actually fit into a standard sized front door. So they have to be taken apart and this isnt the most enjoyable experience for someone with a herniated disc but I popped 8 advil and manned up as the kids say nowadays. Then luckily I had recruited a stocker from Costco and he was able to pick up my 175lbs tv all by himself, this amazed the hell out of me as this thing is not only awkward but very front heavy. He placed it gently in the box I had kept from the purchase (spare bedroom finally paying off). So with the loading of the TV into the U-Haul and we rolled on out of the place that had been my home for 4 years.

I never really enjoyed my stay at that apartment except for the fact that I lived alone for the first time in my life and it had many nearby conveniences. The later being something I had begun to rely on and that is becoming apparent in my current situation. I live about 8 miles from the nearest convenience store and about 15 from any type of real grocery store. I have no access to pizza delivery and high speed internet is only a pipe dream. But with that said it is in a beautiful area with a view of the ocean and a sense of serenity.

Maybe its what I need but its going to take a little time to adjust to living with a roommate again, Ive even had him knock on my door and then bust into my room while I was sleeping just to check if I wanted some breakfast. Not to say that isnt a cool thing to do but its just not something im used to and it kinda freaked me out. Privacy is how you perceive it I guess, sometimes I just want the sense of privacy as opposed to the real thing.

After my move I could barely get out of bed for a few days due to my back condition and it made me look at my situation and to realize that its a good thing to be around the place you grew up in. Being around friends and family is often overlooked but without them who knows where I would be today. Numerous times in my life I had attempted to move out of my state and to an area that would be a fresh start but for whatever reason I never got the job or the guts to follow through on the move. Times like this make me glad I never did. Ive had a few friends in my life follow a similar path and I wonder how they deal with it. Its not really an issue until something unexpected happens like bad health or financial struggles. For the first time in my life I see how family and community is something special. No I havent seen Brokeback Mountain and no I havent become a friend of Dorothy, I am just seeing my little corner of the world a bit differently.