Tuesdays and heavy drinking

The Empire would like to express its most humble apologies for being so delayed in dispensing the entertainment. This week has brought with it increased angst (mostly at Football) and inundating workloads.

But do not despair, The Empire will return, stronger than ever when it's all tore up in the mouth after its Friday procedure. Thanks for your patience, and your emailed nudy pictures.

Sports and Nervousness.

Profanity is a wonderful thing. Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you from striking a friend, loved one, or fragile piece of furniture. Other times it gets you into trouble with your mom. But for the most part profanity helps us put into words the virtually indescribable feeling that we get when we're watching our favorite team do anything close to losing.

Ask any Yankees or Steelers fans and they'll tell you that the end 2004 season can only be described in four letter epithets. It's the only thing they can do. But also ask Red Sox and Patriots fans to describe the same season and they'll probably use similar profanity but in a more positively-spirited manner.

The facts of the matter are these; people LOVE sports and people LOVE to win. But when people watch their sports teams lose they feel powerless to explain it. The joy of winning is universal but the pain of losing is a hand grenade. When you lose you look for a reason, an excuse, or an explanation. When you win you don't care how or why, you're just excited to have that W in your column. So, what do you do when you THINK you're going to lose, when you haven't even lost yet but you're just too realistic to not think about it happening?

For the most part, you can't do anything. You just have to bite your towel or watch to see if strike three is called. Many people turn to alcohol as a form of relaxation. And generally it works. But for those who just can't drink away the nervousness, the only thing to do is speculate. And listen to commentators speculate. And listen to coworkers and friends speculate. And to read speculation in the newspapers. And and and and... until gameday has arrived. Then you line up your Coors Lights and your buffalo wings and get ready for an emotional roller coaster that makes puberty look like a fairy tale. And in the end, speculation means nothing. Everything you've heard or said or read is rubbish. Some of it seems insane, some of it seems clairvoyant. But it's all crap. The only thing that matters on gameday is that you cheer. You stand tall, win or lose, and you stick with your team until they've got that glory back. No bandwagon jumpers and no excuse tellers. Fandom is for people who stick it out. And eventually, that grit pays off.

So, what's the moral of the story? Unfortunately there isn't one. Sports and nervousness are tied together, joined at the hip, handcuffed in a pair in the back of a Baltimore State Police cruiser. You can't be a sports fan and not be nervous sometimes. Unless of course you're a Cardinals fan and you've got nothing to be nervous about. BaaaZING!

We'll see you next week kids, when we find out if history is damned to repeat itself or the once top dawgs, now underdogs, can reclaim the glory of their storied pasts.

GO YANKS and GO STILLERS!!!

Toasts of the town

Goood morning everyone! It's time, once again, to raise our glass and throw a few back with....

People Who Should Have A Drink Today!!! (dingdingding "yaaaay" *crowd roars*!)

First, two rounds of double martinis to the engineers of the Airbus A320 who undoubtedly have been congratulating themselves with pats on the back and ice-slide shots since 9:30 last night when their landing gear didn't end up causing a giant fiery crash on national television. Enjoy it ladies and gentlemen, you've brought a droplet of glory to the ocean of disappointment that is the airline industry.

And while we're at it, a tequila sunrise for that pilot. He's a book/movie deal away from early retirement.

Moving on to the world of entertainment. Kate Moss (wait for it, wait for it) Have a fuzzy navel, Kate Moss. You've reminded us that the 80's aren't just back in the nightmarishly horrible fashions options. Just about everyone is making tracks running away from associating with you, as though hundreds of model slash starlets weren't banging coke on camera. Hell, our society has made Paris Hilton a megastar for consuming another kind of white substance on film. (baaaaZing!)

Let's line up some frothy beers for Scott Baio. No, he hasn't done anything worth making fun of in, like, a lifetime but Charles In Charge rocked our world. And it's Scotty's birthday today. 44 years lame. Cheers, Charles.

And let's not forget Lou Piniella, manager of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. It's being reported that Lou has accepted a 2.2 Million dollar buy out to not be manager anymore. That's right, he'll make 2.2 million bucks next season to do NOTHING. Now that's America. Champagne for Lou.

And last but certainly not least, let's give a frozen marg for the Rocket. Clemmens didn't do anything special today but The Empire feels like he is, generally, a pretty rock on guy and should have a drink on this sunny Thursday.

Eat your Wheaties!

Peace out.

Be Careful What You Wish For

It never has been and never will be easy to live in Boston if you're a Yankees fan, just like it will never be easy to live in Sudan if you're albino. It has been especially difficult for 2005. But many of us have to make sacrifices in life, and we are forced to bear the slings and arrows of a "nation" of idiots.

Being a good Yankees fan requires a lot of good qualities. You have to have a stiff upper lip and be willing to listen to bitter jealous sports fanatics all over the world throw hatred at you for being what you are. You have be stoic. You have to be proud. Of course it helps if you are actually from New York, but this is not a requirement. The only mandatory principle for being a good Yankees fan is to be a true Yankees fan.

I emphasize true because, while being a fan of a winning team you have to endure the droves of bandwagon jumpers. And the only thing more stomach turning than watching a bandwagon jumper cheer for your team is watching them jump as quickly off as they did on at the first sign of adversity.

If there was anything positive to take away from the 2004 post-season it was a freshening up of the Yankees faithful. And for those of us who have been around a while and are still sticking around, we are excited to be a little under appreciated going into the pennant race this year. We're still widely and wildly hated, but we're used to that. True Yankee fans want to win more this year than any other year for nearly a century, in spite of all the hatred that can come our way. The Yankees faithful are out to prove that we might have been down but we were never out.

So here we are, it's late September and the Yanks and BoSux are duking it out for first place in the AL East, and perhaps the last playoff berth in the league. It's crunch time and fans will be more ruthless now than they have been all season, that's expected. Yankees fans are prepared for the irrational, and unmatched I might add, personal attack slogans directed at our players. We can deal with bazillions of t-shirt designs that insult us rather than support the opposing team. We can even handle, difficultly, the highlight reels of last year's ALCS. But the one thing that really lights a fire under The Empire's ass is this:

All week I've had to listen to asinine Sox fans cheering on the Cleveland Indians' pursuit of the Wild Card. It goes something like this, "Of course I want Cleveland to get it, anything that keeps the Yankees out of the playoffs." Boy, what I wouldn't do for a brand new, polished baseball bat and more lax assault laws in the state of Massachusetts.

Are all of these red fans so dumb? They should take a moment away from watering their chunk of Fenway sod and clue into the fact that a half game lead on the Yankees ain't a guaranteed ticket to the post season. And in the event that their team takes a nice big bite of ass over the next week and a half it will be them who sits out of October on account of the Cleveland Indians.

Taking future wins for granted is the first step to blowing it. Just ask those of us who had to endure the biggest choke in sports history. It ain't over 'til it's over. Yes, I'm quite certain I've heard that somewhere. So, here's a free piece of advice, Red Sox Nation. While you're cheering for Cleveland to clinch the Wild Card spot the New York Yankees might be creeping up behind you to, in the parlance of our times, WHUP YO ASS! So, be careful what you wish for, lest your wish comes true.

That's No Moon... or: Are We There Yet???

Deet-deet deet-deet deeteeteeteeeee.... Dateline Washington: The Deccan Herald reports that the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (affectionately known as NASA) has set the year 2018 for the earliest possible date for sending a human to the moon. um...................................................................












...................................................................
We'll repeat that, because it's a statement that bears repeating. NASA has set the year 2018, THAT'S THIRTEEN YEARS FROM NOW!, as the earliest possible time to send a human to the moon, SOMETHING WE DID ALMOST FORTY (YES 40!) YEARS AGO.

Congratulations are in order for an organization making strides to achieve the unachievable. And let's not forget to mention that it's unachievble because it's already been done! TWICE!

Moving on.

The last few days have been good, sports wise, to The Empire so we will refrain from gloating or even listing any interesting highlights except to say, Bubba Crosby!?!? Dance tiny white man, dance.

In other news,

Jennifer Aniston has told reporters that she's ready to date again after her split from husband, international hot-woman-dumper, Brad Pitt. The Empire is scheduling an exclusive interview for more details. That interview will take place on October 5th, in fantasy land. Stay tuned for highlights.

Happy birthday to slutty Italian actress, Asia Argento. Good to see she's capitalizing on that "xXx" success and expanding into more meaningful and noteworthy roles. Oh wait.

Also, in relatively relaxing news, Dennis Kozlowski and Mike Swartz, the ex-chairman and ex-finance chief of Tyco, were sentenced in New York State Supreme Court to eight and a third to twenty-five years in state prison for stealing MORE MONEY THAN ANY TWO MEN COULD EVER SPEND IN ALL OF ETERNITY from their former company. The Empire is pleased.

And what the hell's going on with the Chicago White Sox?

West Coast Update Part 1: Down Goes Friscan!!

It didn't take too long to get our first update from the wild wild west. As it turns out, NoCal sidewalks truly aren't for the faint of heart (or at the very least for easterners like our own Friscan.)

But don't worry. He's okay.

No updates on the official Empire Breast Search yet but it's hard for the Friscan to identify class-A boobage when he's peeling his limp ass off the pavement.

The Friscan Goes West or: California Here We Cooooooooooooooome!

It's that time of year again. No, not back-to-school time, not Christmas time, not ass-whuppin time, it's lease signing time. And for those who are pulling up stakes and heading to a new town, it is prime U-Haul season. So, in the spirit of unmitigated expansion, The Empire has dispatched its own field correspondent, The Friscan, to ol'San Fran; or as we like to call it, The Land That The Law Forgot.

The Friscan's primary assignment is to keep an eye on that wiley 9th Circuit Court but that won't be occupying all of his time. Really we've sent The Friscan out west to find out how things work out there. Do Californians breathe oxygen the way we do? Can people in San Fran stand properly on level sidewalks? And what's it like having a Terminator for a governor? The Friscan will be checking in periodically and hopefully supplying some answers for these pointlessly trivial questions.


The Friscan is also on a massive breast search, that is a large search for breasts rather than a regularly sized search for giant breasts (though we'll certainly take said mondo melons under consideration.) He's not just looking for any old set of boobs, no, The Friscan will be scouting out the perfect pair of Californian Ta-tas. And for this we will be paying him a bonus of special 9AM Sunday morning wake up calls. (We'll explain that one later.)

To make sure he doesn't become too broken down under the burden of his fieldwork, The Friscan will be taking paid time off to explore new techniques in transcendent relaxation. We've set him up with the top "professionals" in the region and we will be expecting bi-quarterly updates on that subject as well, with pictures!

But in all seriousness, it is with a heavy heart and very few remaining cheerios that The Empire sends its humble correspondent out into the soulless west without a firearm of some kind or at least a fresh supply of personal lubricant. We will have a tough time adjusting to his absence. But we take comfort in the fact that more and more airlines are embracing chapter 11. We expect that first class tickets to the rice-a-roni city will be cheaper than a pack of Merit Ultra Lites within a few months.

Good luck in California, Friscan. We will miss you. And don't forget to keep it straight.

||For those of you not reading between the lines (and you clearly don't watch enough MTV and Fox) Coming soon to The Empire, MORE DRAMA AND BREASTS!||

It's capitalism jaggoff!

Well, hats off to everyone out there who takes an idea and runs with it. And leave it to the French to... probably better that I don't finish that sentence.

The Empire is delighted to spread the word about Mecca Cola. That's right, you didn't misread: Mecca Cola.

French entrepreneur Tawfik Mathlouthi has nailed his market by creating a new soft drink designed to cash in on anti-American sentiment around the world. Mecca Cola is targeted straight at angry Muslims all over the planet, much the way Air Force Smart Bombs are, HAHA!

The Empire expects Mecca Cola to be a huge hit, not so much in Muslim dominated societies, but rather, right here in the good old U.S. of A. For sure! This is going to be the mixer of choice at Michael Moore's next premiere, Alec Baldwin's vacation homessssss, and certainly at Hilary Clinton's inaugural ethnic cleansing.

The Empire will be seeking comfort with its faithful medical advisor and confidante, Dr. Angus.

What the hell is wrong with this country? (...well amongst other things)

No seriously, what the hell is going on? In what realm of reality does it make sense to sentence a kid who hacked the telephone of a woman, who has not one but several self made and self promoted pornographic movies on the internet, to eleven months in prison when Ray Lewis and Suge Knight serve less time combind for KILLING people? The Empire was perfectly content working today but when this little gem of news came by we could not handle standing silent.

Now, it is no secret that The Empire sees Paris Hilton as the fulcrum of pure evil in the universe and the reason for all suffering and destruction on this planet but that isn't the point. The point is; our legal system may be flawed but most of the time it has its feet located somewhere relatively close to the ground. But this is nuts! 11 months? For a prank?

All this says is, "Hey world, we'll put up with violence, drugs, and rape in our streets, greed, corruption, gross misconduct, and violations of all things trustworthy in our businesses and government posts but DON'T YOU DARE mess around with the banal minutiae of a spoiled, talentless, slutty, social cancer like Paris Hilton," to put it lightly.

It just doesn't make any sense. Frankly, social commentary on this subject only furthers the spread of the poison that this kind of "news" creates so perhaps I should quit while I'm ahead. And by ahead I mean I haven't gotten so worked up and angry that the pulsing vein on my forehead pops and kills me by gushing vital oxygenated blood on my keyboard. The Empire wishes this kid the best of luck in prison and sincerely hopes he's not corn-holed on the first night.

The American Work Ethic

The Empire will not be posting a long, bitch filled article today. No. We are going to prove to ourselves that we can actually be diligent hard working members of society. So, it's time to get down to business and get paid. But fear not we will see you tomorrow, when there will certainlly be something to complain about.

The Empire Brings You: Unimportant News From Around The WORLD!!! (that should be said with a loud proud chest pumping deep voice)

dateline Florida... Despite having a dismal losing record against the worst team the AL East, the New York Yankees managed to drop the proverbial hammer on the Tampa Bay Devil Dopes on Tuesday in the opener of their three game series in the sunshine state.

When reached for comment by The Empire's field team, highly sweaty first baseman Jason Giambi said "Heh heh, that was rad." Of course, the question was, "Jason, do you feel that the strong offensive effort tonight is indicative of the team's energy level going into the home stretch of the pennant race.?" Giambi then tucked into the fetal position and nestled himself to sleep in his temporary locker.

Center fielder Bernie Williams, who turned 37 Tuesday, was seen mixing Metamucil after the game. He said to the press, "This shit really loosens me up. I can swing for days and days. Barry Bonds will be my bitch in the home." Immediately following his comment, Williams was caught rushing to the locker room. And we mean rushing.

After going 4 for 4 on the night, Hideki Matsui was seen headbutting a Japanese photographer. No charges have been filed, as the victim spent far too much time calling and bragging to everyone he new in Japan to actually make a statement to the police.

dateline Toronto... Red Sox first baseman Kevin Youkilis has a biggggg ass. That is all.

dateline Gulf Coast... Hurricane's still suck. Lots of letters being sent to the Carolinas.

dateline L.A.... (nobody cares)

dateline Washington... After the first day of the Senate probing of Supreme Court Chief Justice nominee John Roberts, scientific experts have determined that he is, indeed, the most buggy-eye-dest guy ever to set foot on Capitol Hill.

dateline Ohio... Police discovered 8 children being force to sleep in wooden cages on the property of their foster family. The confinements were approximately 3 feet in width and height and did not include blankets, pillows, or any sexual pleasure devices. This will be filed under, more evidence that The Empire's theory -Ohio is majorly sucktastic- is spot on.

And in the immortal impotent words of Dennis Miller, that's the news and I am outta here

Breaking News: LA blacked out, Americans don't care

Tuesday is one of those days on which you reflect. For the next five months most Tuesdays will be spent reflecting on football, and that's great. But since last night's game wasn't too surprising, at least to those of us who knew Phily is filled with more suck than a Combo is filled with evil, The Empire would like to reflect on the fact that no one gives a crap about Los Angeles.

Remember in the 90's when everything coming out of L.A. was celebrated? Well, there was gangster rap, the Lakers, senseless violence, bigotry, Beverly Hills 90210, and O.J. Simpson; pop culture gold! But times have changed and lately the only thing coming out of L.A. is proof that the world is slowly marching toward a fiery end. For goodness sake, there hasn't been a Lethal Weapon movie in nearly a decade! These people have nothing to offer us.

So in response, The Empire elects Washington D.C. as the new "it" city. We don't know why, but it seems only appropriate since our nations capital is one of the most crime ridden, economically depressed, infrastructurally entangled cities in the country. Also, it's so cliche to pick New York, Boston, or Norman (that's Oklahoma.)

Anyhow, I feel as though we've run this little train of thought into the ground. Now I'd like to take suggestions from the crowd, assuming there is one.

What's on your mind world? The Empire had shark for dinner last night and it was delicious...

A tragedy in the City

The Empire deems the following email quotation necessary for immediate posting. It comes to us from an Empire associate, the Friscan.

He writes, "the wings at champions in philly suck. i was all ready for some awesome wings and they blew. i mean i had spent the night in NYC, drank too much, got thrown up on, just barely made it home, and all i wanted were some kick ass wings. but hey, at least the game was awesome."

There has not been a truer thing said.


Disclaimer: The picture above is not an actual photographic rendering of the Friscan but it appropriately displays the grimace he must have suffered under the tyranny of bad wings.

Dateline, America...

Steelers whomp Titans in season opener. Yanks shut out Red Sox to win weekend series and go up two games against nemesis on the season. All this on a very emotional September 11th. The Empire is extremely pleased.

Friday's Lost Step

The Empire is officially too groggy to bitch. You all better take note of this day because it doesn't come around much. I'll do my best to offend somebody but I'm not feeling the stamina today.

The Empire is groggy because it stayed up late last night watching sports. Specifically, the NFL Kickoff game, the Angels at Red Sox, and the Devil Rays at Yankees. Now while the red shut-out was a welcome respite from watching the BoSux win on botched calls by inept umpire staff, it was a bit of a non-issue. The Yankees some how managed to lose, again, to the Tampa Bay Devil Duds, putting them at 5-11 on the season against the worst team in the AL East. This loss keeps the boys from the Bronx 4 games back in their division and a half game back In the AL wild card race. But even this was not the rub that took the steam out of The Empire's morning.

The Empire is just really really horribly sick and tired of listening to Al Michaels, John Madden, and every other boring sports commentator out there wax on and on for entire games about how great Tom Brady is. Three hours of listening and I just can't take it anymore. Why don't they just march down to the field, toss up a towel, and dive open mouth first into his crotch. Even when this guy throws a ridiculously bad pass or reads a play wrong the commentary is, "oh look how well Tom Brady does this," and "Tom Brady is so great at doing that," or "look how Tom Brady makes this look easy." I CAN SEE THE GAME YOU NUMB NUTTED JACKASSES! I don't need to listen to some old fart with a microphone and glowy pen stroke his ego like they were stroking his bone for the whole evening. Read statistics or shut the hell up! I hate Tom Brady. I hope he gets ass cancer and herpes from his loose lipped girlfriend. Enough already.

The Empire doesn't care who wins anymore (for today or at least until the grouchiness pass) as long someone cuts out John Madden's tongue. Happy Friday everyone.

Thou Shalt Worship the Pigskin

Good morning excited people of the world. The Empire is incredibly pleased to remind you, as if anyone forgot, that football starts Tonight!! And while we don't want to take our eyes off the ball, so to speak, there are a few points of agression we'd like to get out before getting to the good stuff.

The Empire realizes it takes a lot of time to insult the Baltimore Ravens and, frankly, it's well deserved time. But let's not forget the other teams in the NFL that deserve ridicule. First, of course, there are the Browns -or should we call them the Oranges? It feels like kicking a retarded kid while he's already down, but boy do the Oranges suck. And The Empire is glad they suck. And we hope that they keep on sucking so we can spend more time insulting the Ravens -hence forth known as the Purple Browns. So, in conclusion, screw the Orange Browns and screw the Purple Browns. They all suck.

And on the subject of teams The Empire will arbitrarily hate, let's add the "you're the not quite a dynasty just yet suckers" Patriots, the "I'll hate them only as long as that dopy looking prick Eli Manning is at the helm" Giants, the "we'll take it in the rear like first night prison meat from our obnoxious wide-out" Eagles, the "we're getting pumped up by every sports publication because we won 6 of our last 8 in '04 but no one realizes they were all losing teams anyway" Panthers, and last but certainly not least sucky, the "we suckity suck suck just 'cause" Bucaneers. Also, the Jags blow.

Thank God for football.

Moving on to the really important issue at hand.

The Empire presents:

The Ten Commandments of Football

10. Thou shalt consume Coors and Rolling Rock from September to February because that is how it should be. Also, the Corona vats are finally empty from the summer gluttony.

9. Thou shalt not accept any distractions or non-football conversations of any kind during game time.

8. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbors hot wings.

7. Thou shalt do no shots during the game.

6. Thou shalt hate Dion Sanders and John Madden with the burning passion of a thousand suns.

5. Thou shalt rise and shout from the rooftops "I love football more than life itself and anyone who doesn't like that can Bite My Ass."

4. Thou shalt not skip a football game for a baseball game, unless it's a potential last game of the world series and your team is playing, only then can you switch over at commercials.

3. Thou SHALT NOT BAND WAGON JUMP! Thou wilst pick and stick from Preseason to Superbowl.

2. Thou shalt never bet against your team, NEVER EVER, no matter what the odds.

1. Thou shalt cheer and cheer and cheer and cheer and cheer and cheer for the black and gold.

Read and Remember. Blessed is the game. Go Football!

Third and Long for 5 to 10

Feeling as though the Baltimore Ravens had gotten a little to squeaky clean in recent months, cornerback Samari Rolle optioned to smack his wife around a bit to remind everyone that the NFL ain't for pussies who obey the law. Rolle, famous for having an exceedingly ridiculous name in a leaque already peppered with absurd monickers, agreed to a blistering inappropriate 11 month and 29 day probation in addition to mandatory anger management classes which he will attend with his wife, the aforementioned punching bag.

Before The Empire launches into a 29 page tirade about how much the Baltimore Ravens eat the world's collective feces it would like to remind all the faithful that beating your spouse doesn't solve problems but mostly just costs you money and makes the world think you have a non-functioning penis.

And what is the deal with Mrs. Rolle having to go to anger management classes? Isn't it clear that Samari is the one swinging the big bone filled meat sacks? Well, perhaps not. Perhaps the Mrs. is a giant pain in the ass. But even if that is the case it only serves to reaffirm The Empire's theory that the Baltimore Ravens (and anyone who marries into them or roots for them) is a magnet for disappointment and the odd crack on the chin.

And speaking of crack, how is Jamal Lewis doing?

Anyway. To put the smack-in-the-face-to-the-fans icing on this cake, Rolle will be fined one game check by the NFL for violating its personal conduct policy and will play in the team's season opener this week. By and large a fantastic match to the lax punishment most Ravens felons receive when they finally get caught doing whatever it is that they do.

So, The Empire thanks Samari Rolle for reinstating the Ravens to "most ghettoest" team in the NFizzLe.

The Empire has a few important things to address this very monday-like Tuesday morning.

First, three day weekends are truly a wonderous and splendid thing. Why is it we can relax so much better with those quick 24 extra hours? What is it about Monday that fits so much better into the weekend? Who knows. But The Empire submits that the world would be a more peaceful and welcoming place if we seriously considered dropping Monday like a bad habit.

Secondly, breasts are wonderful... everywhere. A well placed pair of boobs can really bring a spark to an idle weeknight. Just last week a complete stranger took out her boobs and gave them a shake for me and a good friend -with no prompting by us I might add- and it really put some extra bounce in my step for the rest of the day. Now, The Empire is not promoting absurd displays for inappropriate exposure, but..... well, yeah it kinda is.

No more numbers-ly. The Empire is happy to announce the arrival of its latest bottle of fine scotch. Last Friday The Empire became the proud parents of Glenfiddich 18 Year Ancient Reserve. And we are so so so pleased.

In other news, The Empire is feeling mad tricky weak today so please send in plenty of complaints. Additionally we'll run through the news pretty quickly.

-Kanye West is an idiot.
-Hurricanes Suck.
-Jerry Rice and Andre Agassi are old.
-Jerry Lew is is still alive.
-Kazaa is screwed.
and
-John Roberts drives a Honda Odyssey and the President likes him.

The End.

Also, a big shout out goes to Basegirl for hooking The Empire up with the flyest burbon pecan pie on the planet. I'm happy to get pudgy on that stuff any day.

Word to the mother.

TGI-Freedom or: Everyone Take Notes

Good Friday to all! Before we get into anything serious The Empire has some very important birthday's to, as the hip-hopsters say, give a shout out, to or on or whatever. September 2nd brought us:

The end of dubya dubya 2 and Vietnamese Independence Day
The Cartoon Network's Adult Swim and The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
Professional stoner imitator, Keanu Reeves and marginally famous actor, Mark Harmon
The Empire's favorite backup QB Tommy "I Mostly Mentor" Maddox
Big tall tough intimidating black man, Lennox Lewis

And, of course, the hottest woman in the world (with hips I might add), Salma "Every Move I Make Deposits More Sexy To The World" Hayek.

Also, Ho Chi Minh, the communist leader of North Vietnam died on September 2nd. Great timing Ho!

Now, on to more important matters...

This Friday The Empire is taking a much needed jaunt up to the great state of New Hampshire to visit some old friends. New Hampshire is great for a number of reasons. It is the "Live Free or Die" state, which may seem pretty cool when you say it fast but actually instills a little bit of fear in your average person who doesn't want ANY kind of "or Die" option on his or her vacation or life in general. New Hampshire has no state income tax.... and why hasn't the rest of the union picked up on that yet? New Hampshire has a dull name, which prevents it from being in too many annoying or comedic jingles. And New Hampshire is the most libertarian government of all the 50 states, commonwealths, subsidiaries, or whatever (yes, I realize that's two whatevers.)

But the far coolest thing about New Hampshire does not lie in its picturesque landscapes or pleasant inhabitants. It’s the cheap booze. That's right, alcohol. New Hampshire is, by any stretch of the imagination, the least expensive place to professionally drink in all of the northeastern United States. And for that, The Empire is eternally thankful.

So, in appreciation of New Hampshire's extremely evolved government, beneficial tax protocol, and totally awesomely cheap state liquor stores The Empire proudly presents a completely new and soon to be repeated feature:

People Who Should Have a Drink Today

#1. Homos in California should have a drink in celebration of their state senate passing the nation’s first full fledged same-sex marriage bill. Now gays can experience the same stifling angst and lack of sex that only marriage can provide. Bottoms up!

#2. The engineers who built the New Orleans levees, have a couple. A light beer buzz will make the scowls of disappointment look like muted vomitty-faces.

#3. George W. Bush, have a shot and a whiskey chaser because, frankly, The Empire has seen you drunk and thinks it’s fricken hysterical. Do it again, do it again! It’s not like you can get fired for being tanked on the job.

#4. Steve Jobs, have a spiked veggie smoothie. There’s no way whatever you’ve got up your sleeve is going to top the iPod so now is the time to celebrate.

#5. Yankee pitcher Jaret Wright, that looked like it hurt. Throw back one on us.

#6. Jason Statham, star of “Transporter 2,” deserves a drink because he seems to have convinced someone to top a really really horrendously horrible movie with an equally crappy looking sequel.

#7. And of course let’s not forget Mother Nature. Because you love to remind us that, despite all the whiny environmentalist claims that we are wrecking you left and right, you could wipe us out like a brown stain in your underwear if it suited you. A kir royale for you, madame.

Enjoy the long weekend.

New Month, New Debt, New Outlook

Despite it being the first of September, which means the streets of fair Boston will be helplessly congested with U-Haul trucks and inept college students who will inevitably get said trucks jammed in an overpass on Storrow Drive or a narrow side street in the North End, The Empire has decided that this Thursday will be a cheerful day. And in that vein, The Empire proudly presents The Awesomest Car Award to the Mini Cooper S.

The cheerful day idea may seem a little out of place to some but the idea should really come as a welcome breath of fresh air. September 1st is really a pain in the ass. As on every other first of the month, all the big bills are due. But September brings us the promise of crappy transitional fall weather. And despite owning the start of the NFL season, September makes us work so hard at paying attention to both the beginning of football AND the playoff race in baseball. That's serious commitment. And let's face it; September really doesn't have too much going for it as far as personality goes. What's its holiday? Labor Day, the national salute to a downer: more work and the end of summer.

The Mini Cooper S brings us excitement! It's British, kinda, which is universally accepted as the mark of fun and reckless abandon, isn’t it? It's little, which makes parking a snap. It's got go-cart handling, and who doesn't love go-carts? And it gets great mileage, which, in these exciting times of skyrocketing oil prices uncertainty and war, we all love. To boot, it gets this mileage while delivering rubber smoking speed and rip-your-face-off cornering.

The Empire is really into cars. The Empire LOVES the Mini. So, on this first of September 2005 The Empire encourages you, the ever faithful, to take a long look at Mini's website. Eye-hump the little bugger for a while. Imagine yourself zipping around your favorite city flipping off dumb collegiate youngsters in their parent’s minivans and midsize luxury sedans. Most importantly, load a half ton of stolen gold in the trunk and evade capture by your arch nemesis.

Plus, do you think Angie Harmon would be impressed by this little mod? The Empire is betting its recently sold left kidney on it!

Oh and for those of you who have been holding your breath, it is indeed Scott Speedman's birthday today. The Empire didn't put a link to a picture of Scott Speedman because, well, doesn't everyone know exactly who he is? Huh? Huh? Well... perhaps someone who matters was born on September 2nd. Ciao!!