The Empire Snarks Back

More proof that God hates the Kennedys

2006-05-14T17:23:00.000-04:00

Well, there's not much of a need to explain the theory, the history speaks for itself. But thanks to our friend irony we get this fun...

Hot on the heels of his gas-bag son's "brave admittion of drug dependency," our old fat friend Teddy Kennedy has ended up in the news.

'nuff said

Ole - dammit!

2006-05-04T21:47:00.000-04:00

In honor of Cinco de Mayo, The Empire had an expertly penned, truly entertaining, moderately culturally insesitive rant about Mexico's recent decriminalization of all illicit drugs but thanks to the Nascar-fast U-turn by President Vincente Fox that two pages of comedic glory is completely worthless. Thanks, Vinny.

So, in absence of the snarky, we give you the funny. And in the immortal words of Quagrmier:

"Hehe, Ole!"

The Empire salutes this, the greatest American holiday, Cinco de Mayo!

Enjoy it folks.

Happy 6-A, my little muttenchop.

The Burden of Availability

2006-04-27T19:53:00.000-04:00

Someone once said, "You are what you eat." Some witty executive later penned, "you are what you wear." Well, I think both are right. I think, you are what you wear, say, do and advertise. And I believe in truth in advertising.

I want to be clear, I am not talking about print ads, television commercials, or radio plugs. I am talking about properly representing yourself. If you walk down the street in fuzzy jogging pants that say "slut" or "pornstar" in pink glitter letters across your ass then, girly, you had better be willing to toss that leg in the air if I fan a crisp fifty in your face. If your shabby-chic t-shirt exclaims "talk dirty to me," I don't want the creepy, 270-pound, comicbook store owner with blood red acne to get slapped across the cheek when he asks to "drill his #*$% into your tight bald !&@^." And if your ironic skater hoody has a glorified drawing of Che Guevara on the back then you had better not complain when I get a policeman to gut slug you and take your money, bling, watch, iPod, and fancy new cellular phone.

Which brings me to my main point, your cell phone. The cell phone is a staple in our society. It is a highlighted fixture in our everyday lives. It is, perhaps, the single most integral and yet at the same time irritating innovation of the last quarter millennium. But here's the thing. If you carry a cell phone, THEN PICK THE DAMN THING UP WHEN SOMEONE CALLS YOU!!!

Each and everyone of you knows someone, is married or related to someone, or is stalking someone who just refuses to use that damned phone in the manner of which it was intended.

I call you. You don't pick up. I leave a brief and descriptive message. You don't call back. 4 hours pass and the ice in my vodka is melting. I call you. You don't pick up. I don't leave a message. 10 minutes pass and my vodka is finished and a white-haired man at the bar is making hump-me eyes in my direction. I order another vodka. 10 more minutes pass. I call you. You don't pick up. I leave a passive aggressive but seemingly cute message. I get drunk and wake up next to the bartender who, thankfully, is not the white-haired man. 2 days pass, our paths cross idly and you have a perfectly reasonable excuse for not picking up the f*cking phone and spending 2 blessed minutes to say, "I'm caught up with my roommate and her drama addicted boyfriend, sorry I can't make it out for drinks." I accept your apology and spread rumors around your workplace that you have VD.

Nobody Wins!

If you carry a phone, answer it. If you're not going to pick up your phone, if you're not going to return calls in a respectable amount of time, if you're going to just sit there while your sister calls and calls and calls and calls and leaves 8 minute long rambling diatribes on your voicemail, then don't carry a phone. It's a phone! It's a communications device. It's not a fancy time keeping accessory.

It drives me up a wall to hear people bitch and moan about "not being able to get away." Get away? It's not the Gestapo coming down your block! It's your mother wanting to know if you had a nice week. There's no harm in saying, "Hi, I can't talk long. What's up?" No one is going to hunt you down if you break the conversation with, "Gee sorry, I have to hang up. I'm in the middle of something." It won't kill you to just be responsible.

Cell phones were made to make life easier for everyone, NOT JUST YOU! Completing that call makes the whole damned scenario of living go more smoothly. And if you don't want to get calls or if you don't want to return them? Don't carry a cell phone. Just meet up with people when you can.

Picking up your phone is your damned job. And if you can't pick it up, get back to me in less than 2 hours explaining why because I've got other things to do than sit around waiting to hear your half-baked excuse. And by the way, I've heard them all.

And don't come back at me with, "Oh right, like you don't ignore calls." 'Cause that's right, I don't. You're talking about a guy who has, on more than one occasion, answered his phone mid-coitus. I pick it up when you call and I'm asleep. I pick it up when I'm out to dinner. I carry a cell phone everywhere and when I can't talk I pick up and say so. Or I step away and call back in 10 minutes, NOT the next day. People expect to be able to reach me. And I give my people what they want. That's why they buy me drinks. That's why I believe in truth in advertising...

Sigh. And one last thing. Keep your damned appointments.

My mother often asks me, "Wow, what did we do before cell phones?"

My reply, every single time: "Ma, we made better plans."

Hot off the Ice Cold Presses: Things We Have Learned

2006-04-21T07:58:00.000-04:00

Alright, there it is, a solid month. Are ya happy, you grouchy masses? Geeze, it’s really true, everyone IS a critic. And a voiceless critic at that! At least the New York Times has an Op-Ed page. The Empire has no such luxury. We’re stuck, day in and day out, listening to a bunch of self-righteous chattering monkeys who complain but never contribute. It can seriously wear you down! And what’s worse, is that it eventually takes away from the principle desire to create anything at all. People are so demanding. Sure, we’ve always got something to say, but who wants to say it if we’re going to get shot down like a plane full of “Little Debbie’s” cruising over fat camp. [Sigh, a fat joke. Now you see what I’ve been reduced to? Give it some time. Two paragraphs down I’m liable to be waxing comical in the style of Carrot Top. Got to shake off the rust.]

Through this reoccurring scenario of brutal criticism we have learned one thing here: you will always remember the jackass who tells you that you suck at life, and you will always forget the man who pats you on the back and says, “Good job.”

It’s just not easy to take the compliments. Self-pity addicts like us just aren’t used to it. You see, unless they’re egomaniacal jerks, most people consider every insult a veiled and painful dose of constructive criticism; a sickening sliver of truth in an otherwise over-flattered existence. And sure, a lot of times people will criticize your weakest qualities, but what happens when they rip on your best? Are they hurling stones at a Sherman tank or are they lasing flaming arrows through a papier-mâché façade? Tough to say. Most of us are willing to drudge through our lives second-guessing everything we do. Every decision is suspect; every choice is fallible. And in the end we’ll just suck it up and hope that our rent checks don’t bounce because, frankly, there are more important things in life… like a new feature!

The Empire is proud to present “Things We’ve Learned: This Month"

- We have learned that having friends with money is tough stuff. [Please ignore the obvious reference to the recent film of same name.] Seriously, it’s a piece of cake in college because everybody’s broke as a joke except for the trust-fund babies with their own airplanes and, let’s be serious, they buy all the beer and that’s helpful. But yeah, having close friends who make bank is rough. They buy nice cars, they have swanky apartments, and the worst? They buy h-o-t hot hot new plasma TV’s that make you not-the-friend-with-the-huge-TV anymore. Hrumph.

- We have learned that food poisoning sucks major billygoat ass. No, there is nothing quite like watching your delicious lunch flow out of your mouth like an cut-loose fire hose of liquid orange creamsicle death. And nothing against the hard-working indigenous people of Central America but let’s be serious, the fact that a burrito was involved does add, let’s say, a bronze [or sun-baked brown] lining.

- Point! Counter Point! We have learned that George Steinbrenner is unpopular. This will be filed under the category of “Duh!” We have also learned that fans of the Boston Red Sox are just insufferable bastards in general. We’re talking about people who pick fights with little old ladies, children, and lost tourists! Sure, support your team, but don’t take out the fact that you were jilted by your high school sweet heart when she stood you up for the prom to be part of Def Leppard’s “after party” on a six year old boy who happens to like Derek Jeter. And furthermore, we have realized that NO ONE turns on their own players faster than Sox fans. Sure, yesterday this player was hot at the plate but today they’re screaming for him to die of violent ass cancer because he struck out with the bases load. Lighten up people. No one can be clutch every day.

- Continuing with sports. We’ve learned that it’s not just college football players who fall under the category of amazing-jock-douche-bags. Yeah, for anyone who doesn’t know, college lacrosse players also have the stunning capacity for treating other human beings with as much reckless distain as Naomi Campbell treats the help. [See? Carrot Top ain’t that far]

- We have, unfortunately, learned that Tom Cruise will stop at nothing in his attempts to make me want to kill him. Come on, this cock-jockey is working WAY too hard to make us think him rod rises for women. Tom. Tom! Just go back to making good movies. We don’t care how you spend your nights. Stay off the newsstands, television, and radio. Just go quietly into the dim of pop-media obscurity and surface each spring in a reasonably entertaining blockbuster. We all saw Magnolia; we know you can really “act."

**Breaking News** Holy fricken crap, this was so unbelievably nasty and relevant we had to bust into your entertainment for a last minute announcement. Our friends at the New York Opinion decided to bring this amazing story to the forefront of today's news.

And now back to our normally scheduled programming:

- And speaking of gay [awkward segue from Tom Cruise], can someone please explain why Brokeback mania won’t abide? We saw it. Good movie. Not earth-shatteringly good, but good. [Stop, you’re going to make a joke about it being ass-shatteringly good. Just don’t. Leave ol’ Carrot boy some material.]

- We have learned that, after a long deliberation, Saw and, by proxy, Saw II stank like David Wells at 2AM on a Sunday. We have decided, based on this knowledge, that there hasn’t been a decent scary movie in over a decade. Honestly, House of Wax? Final Destination 3? How can you have more than one FINAL destination? What happened to Wes Craven? Is he dead? Abe Vigoda is still alive! Make something scary! Please. Enough with the suck.

- And finally, we have definitely learned that summer is coming. And that makes us so, SO, much nicer. Really, we’re drinking way way less. Well, we’re drinking less whiskey, more gin, but definitely less whiskey.

Anyhow, we’ve rambled on long enough. It’s late. The buzz is wearing off. The weekend is nearing. And I’m pretty sure there’s not a drug in the world that will make the Phil Collins/Genesis jukebox in our skulls turn off. It is very much time for bed. Go see Kinky Boots. Don’t rent Shoot The Piano Player. Be good to your mother. And go go Giambino!

Why Can't I Hate Right

2006-03-21T22:25:00.000-05:00

Sometimes we, as consumers, have absolutely no control over what we want. We buy trendy overpriced clothes, prototype electronic goods, and first generation cars that just always break down. And we continue to do it, over and over again. We know we're doing it but we just can't seem to stop. Well, doesn't the same thing kind of go for the pop media that we consume? Television is all crap. Every plot line is a rehash of something that intruiged us years ago, yet we still watch. Movie stink. Remake after remake, we see the same generic characters and storylines played out, but we still cough up ten bucks on a Friday night. Pop music? Let's not even open that can of worms. It seems we continue to love things that just undeniably suck.

So, it is in recognition of this puzzling situation that The Empire would like to examine the top 5 Pop culture icons that we simply Hate to Love:

5. George Clooney. This jackass is one of those truly upsetting examples of a movie star who would be just excellent if he could learn to keep his big fat mouth shut. At any given moment over the last decade Clooney could be heard spouting off his bassackwards opinions on politics, social "injustice," or public policy. He has no shame in his blathering on and on, backing up nothing more than his own personal agenda. And he is completely unapologetic in his gargantuan self-absorbtion. But damn does that sonovabitch have some screen presence! He makes funny movies, enjoyable crap-action movies. He's pretty convincing in a drama and knows how to throw in a playful satire from time to time; a true entertainer. Even during this year's Oscar ceremony, you could kind of see shadows of the Jack (The True Great One) Nicholson in the grey-haired ER alum. Wouldn't life be a lot easier if this bonehead could just stick to being a great star and not just another loud ignorant "actorvist?"

4. Katie Holmes. Granted, this is an entry based strongly on recent events but let's call a spade a spade. Where once stood the fair-skinned, dark-haired young beauty with the crooked smile we couldn't help but have wet dreams about, now lies the twisted ruins of a Hollywood nutbag gone horribly wrong? Pregnant, unwed, careerless, scurying around the world with Capitan ElCreapo the grinning midget and his "aliens are gonna get us" cult, Katie has done a complete 180. Or shall we say a 666ty. Forget hurricane Katrina, what about this arbitrary destruction and meaningless suffering that is our former Joey Potter? And yet, through the glory of preserved media we can still toss in a DVD, pull out an old magazine, or punch in a Google search and pretend that she's still the innocent, mediocre actress we loved circa 2002. The trouble is, we still know the sordid and tragic truth. She'll never be pre-TomKat Katie again.

3. The 80's. Tube socks, Debbie Gibson, day-glo, New Coke, crimping irons, and Richard Grieco. Do we really need to go into more reasons why the 1980's were a stunning disaster? But let's face it, millions of people just seem to have a big soft spot for decade that God forgot. Hell, there's a president of a Phil Collins/Genisis fanclub out there who truly relishes the 80's Dance Night at his favorite local club. There are legions of girls who pull their hair back into the off center ponytail once a month. For goodness sake, The Empire has even been known to rock out to Billy Idol from time to time. It's hard to deny. We love the 80's. But don't you HATE THAT!?

2. ....one of the truest Man Codes states, "It's okay to like Snatch, Seven, and Fight Club, but it is not okay to like Brad Pitt." I think this is a concept that men, and even most women, can really get on board with. Brad Pitt is kind of a dick. He seems completely unable to be faithful to even the most amazing of women. He's literally dropped one after another, like a fricken branch-hopping monkey, on the simple matter of convenience. "Gee, made a movie with her, better start cleaning her pipes. To hell with my girlfriend, fiance, wife." Let's be serious here, this ponce broke the heart of Jennifer Aniston, arguably one of the world's greatest natural resources since crude oil. And to top it all of, the bastard is smug, seriously smug. It's as though he walks around knowing he's the greatest piece of ass on seven continents. And dammit, it's pretty widely accepted that he is. So, it stands to argue that we should like him. But on the same token, it stands to argue that we should hate his perfect guts. Screw Brad Pitt. We just wish he made crappy movies.

1. Abs. There is not one thing more overblown in all of the world of pop culture than abdominal muscles. News flash, they're not even that important in the grand scheme of health. Yes, it's important to have good back support from them but no one, NO ONE, needs a rock-hard chissled 6-pack. But everyone E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E seems to want them. Meaning wants to have them on themselves or have access to touching them on someone else. And why can't we stop the obsession? Because we're weak-willed, insecure, shallow, superficial, image-obsessed drones. Yeah sure whatev' we don't hear any chicks complaining about Richard's lack of intellectual depth.

Steel Cage Grudge Match of Hotness

2006-03-14T22:26:00.000-05:00

Doesn't it seem like the celebrity feuds of late are just lacking a certain something? We would submit that they're missing two elements; women of epic style and stature, and a pointless judgmental third party analysis. So it is, in this vein, that The Empire is proud to present a playoff style breakdown of how Diane Lane and Linda Fiorentino (the two most wildly underappreciated vamps of our time) would fair in a head-to-head standoff.

Let the games begin.

1 - Take Her Home To Momma - Diane Lane is cute. She has that quirky corner smile that makes everyone want to pour a cup of hot cocoa and snuggle. Linda Fiorentino is sly. She has a tight-lipped smile that makes everyone want to dry hump the nearest standing fixed object. Don't get the two confused or you'll end up with chocolate stains on your pants. Edge: Diane

2 - The Obligatory Looks - Both of these women have A-list figures, drop dead cabooses and eyes that make little boys discover the true use for their palms. There's no way to pick the "hotter" one. But when a woman brushes a line of jet-black hair off her face, let's just admit it, everything in the room stands at attention, not just soldiers. Edge: Linda

3 - Star Power - These days Diane has the box office oomph to carry a top billing, mostly on account of her willingness to get wild and out in Unfaithful. But let's not forget Linda's foray into the knockdown drag-out sex thriller in Jade. Again, a tight battle but Diane took direction in Unfaithful from the same guy who directed 9 1/2 Weeks, Fatal Attraction, and Indecent Proposal. That's practically a curriculum vita for a lifetime achievement in soft-core porn. Takes guts. Edge: Diane

4 - Upper Body Strength - Come on, look at those pictures. Linda could crush you with a cross body forearm shot and not spill the martini in her left hand. Edge: Linda

5 - Lower Body Strength - Neither of these girls are Famke Jansen in Goldeneye but as we mentioned in number 3, Diane's had to work the area like a pro. You probably wouldn't want her going all Steven Segal on your ass. Edge: Diane

6 - A Battle of Leading Men - Let's be serious, John Cusak may be the perennial nice guy but he would make David Carusso his prison bitch in half a round. Edge: Diane

7 - Taste in Action Roles - Don't worry we're not saying that Men In Black was a work of finely tuned film artistry, it just ain't Judge Dredd. Edge: Linda by a lack of Rob Schneider

8 - Hometown - Again, let's be serious here. Philly vs. The City. No contest. Edge: Diane by the greatest place on earth.

9 - Why She Might Make You Cry in Bed - Diane might make you cry because you're so happy in love with her. Linda might make you cry because she's bruised you in places you didn't know you had. Edge: Linda, bring protection

10 - Knows Her Way Around a Bar - Remember that time in Dogma when Linda goes to a strip club and talks to Salma Hayek before she kicks the crap out of the whiny bitch twins Matt Damon and Ben "I'm A Huge Tool" Affleck? Yeah, us too, Diane was too busy starring in a schmaltzy chick flick with the Lord of Rings guy to remember what we really care about in life, beer and hotness. Edge: Linda (by a Salma, but that's a whole other discussion)

And the Winner Is !!!

All of us, of course. Come on, any reason to imagine these two stunning works of human existence in the same venue is enough to make us here at The Empire give up trying to be witty and just walk around writing songs about how Diane Lane and Linda Fiorentino could create world peace and eternal life if we could just somehow blend them together into the ultimate "Sexy Older Woman" robot.

The Agony of King Dufus

2006-02-20T18:24:00.000-05:00

It's been a little while since The Empire polluted the "air waves" and don't take that personally people, it's mostly because we wanted to keep the Steelers flare on the forefront. But now that we're back on the clock it would make sense to do a little of what The Empire does best; spew pointless "wisdom," meaningless angst, and gender/race/lifestyle insensitivities. So, in that vein, 5 points of interest.

1. A free piece of advice to anyone who frequents the ol' gymnasium. Never, NEVER! look in the mirror while you're working out. There are two things that are guaranteed to happen if you look in the mirror while pumping your iron. First, you're guaranteed to notice someone else doing the exact same exercise who's twice as cut/jack/built/whatever as you are, thus instantly stealing your will to live not to mention finish your set. Second, you're going to see the incredibly stupid faces you make when you’re trying to "push it." Here a hint; it's the same face you make when you're trying to "push it" the day after buffalo wing fest.

2. (Disclaimer: The Empire doesn't use the word gay as a derogatory or pejorative term, we're just calling a spade a spade.) It doesn't matter who you are, what you do, where you're from, which designer clothes you sport, what car you drive, or who you're putting your genitals in at the end of the night; IF at ANY point in your life you take your shirt off and bear your (remember we're talking to men here) chest at a night club then YOU ARE GAY. Period! There is no discussion. No shirt? Gay! No shoes? No service! wait.....

3. Four words for religious people: CHILL THE FUCK OUT! Is The Empire alone in the sentiment that this series of Muslim riots over a cartoon are about as tragic as when thousands of nutty Christians travel from around the world to see the image of Mary in a water-stained window or a frozen meat chop? Let's be serious (by the way that's our new catch phrase,) why are people still willing to riot, murder, and destroy for what amounts to be belief in the boogie man. Let's bring it's down a notch folks.

4. Valentine's Day is a joke. It has come and gone yet again and The Empire is proud to say that we completely avoided it. Thanks to the girlfriend for taking the higher road and accepting a gift on a completely random day of the year.

5. The Olympics are going on, and that's cool. But you know what's not cool? Bode Miller. This joker has shaped up to be an even more pathetic disappointment than Dan and Dave, and Dan didn't even make the damn Olympics! We remember the Olympics being kind of awesome in the 80's. There was a certain majesty about it. The spirit of team, the exclusivity that comes with only going once every 4 years, that kind of thing. And now what do we have? Every two years we get an over-publicized under-covered patriotism-fest. Complete with total disregard for other countries, one or two pretty boy/girl marquis players who 4 out of 5 times fails to live up to expectations and after the games gets arrested for blood doping, drunk driving, or wife beating, and a stupid stupid cartoon logo. "Dear Olympics, get snooty again please. Don't bother trying to draw a mass crowd of regular Americans. You did better off when you acted like you were all better than popular sports, the elite, so to speak. At least then we felt snooty too for watching and that raised our generally low self worth. Now we just feel like we're missing a comically effeminate contestant on American Idol."

That is all.

#1

2006-02-06T00:02:00.000-05:00

The Pittsburgh Steelers are the Champions of the Football

Going

going

gone

Thanks for the ride, Bussy.

Order is Restored

2006-02-01T22:25:00.000-05:00

Long list, short explanations:

Disco Charlie brought something to my attention today, there is a subtle art of carefree snarkery that is generally expected from day to day. And honestly, he could not be more right. There's been a lot of serious discussion lately and, let's be frank, it just doesn't fit. So here goes.

- When Joey doesn't talk major smack before a game we get nervous. There's a certain continuity and stability to when the mouth of Bakersfield lets loose. All this composed, respectable, media friendly linebacker business just doesn't jive. We've got a major event coming up and we depend on our favorite inflamatory "Capn'in'him" brotha to set the tone. Set it off, 55!

- Exactly 6 people watched the State of the Union last on Tuesday night. They were: Laura Bush, Barbara Bush, Barbara Bush (the hot grand daughter), Al Gore, Dick Cheney, and Abe Vigota (yeah, we were surprised to hear that he's still alive too!)

- Exactly two people cared that the State of the Union was given last night. Laura Bush (she couldn't get out of it) and Mark Bellhorn (he got stoned and forgot that it was Tuesday.)

- Did we mention Tedy Bruschi had a stroke?

- Did we mention Jerome Bettis was from Detroit?

- Did we mention Detroit is kinda ghetto?

- Ooh ooh, we almost forgot, IT'S WAY TO FREAKIN COLD IN BOSTON!

- But seriously, there are a lot of really important things going on. The Israeli-Palestinian peace process is advancing at an impressive rate, the United States Congress has passed record setting budget reform, a controversial partial birth abortion law was overturned in appeals court, and researchers have said that bird flu ha--- DUDE, DID WE MENTION THE SUPERBOWL IS ONLY 3 DAYS AWAY!!!!!!

Holy Fricken Crap

2006-01-31T10:57:00.000-05:00

So, you're probably wondering what the damn hold up has been and why The Empire has been so laid back in the production of quality snarkitude. Well, it's because WE'RE FREAKING THE HELL OUT ABOUT THE SUPERBOWL.

Let's get a few things straight about XL -

First of all, I love Jerome Bettis. If I could, I would take him home and feed him meat everyday just so we could chill out and watch westerns in Clint Eastwood costumes. He is My Bus, The Bus, the Super Bus. But the hype over him going home to Detroit is about the EAT THE WORLD! The Empire hates hype. We hate predictors, we hate analysts, and we sure as hell hate people who trash talk before the game. So, all this "career ending at home in the super bowl... yada yada yada," is just stinking of jinxing. Why wont they stop?! The Empire will be fingernail-less by Saturday afternoon if the sports media doesn't reel it in a bit.

2ndly- Bengals fans can bite my ass. If I have to listen to one more Bungal fan tell me that those orangy chumps would be in the big game if Palmer hadn't been hurt, I will barf in my hands. No one can speculate that. If Palmer wasn't hurt there isn't even a guarantee that the Bengals could have beaten the Steelers, let alone whoever they would have had to play in the next two rounds. For crying out loud, they had a 10 point lead at the half! Last I heard, you needed defense to win in the playoffs, not just a pretty quarterback. Just ask Indy.

3rdly- I still think Tom Brady is a homogoatlover. Yes, I appreciate that my Pats-loving friends were rooting for the black and gold in the divisional and championship games, but let's be honest; I still really don't like that pretty boy suckmaster. I will never like him. He will always remind me of slowly curdling milk.

4thly- I respect Mike Holmgren. He's a good coach with a good record and a good rep. He's no Cowher, but he ain't Brian Billick either.

5thly- Detroit is still the ghetto. Yeah, it's a fun place to have such a historical game but let's not lose sight of the motor city's exceptional talent for suckitude of late.

6thly- THIS WEEK NEEDS TO GO A HELL OF A LOT FASTER!

and finally- I hope and pray my team wins. GO STEELERS!

Running on Faith (sorry, I can't be snarky today)

2006-01-19T18:52:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me today that, of all the things we expect of death, we are seldom prepared to welcome it into our lives. That statement probably seems a bit oxymoronic but I'm not talking about accepting one's own death, I'm referring to accepting a death that tolls on us.

It’s easy to rationalize that the death of an elderly or sick person is inevitable or expected but somehow people seem to perpetually hold onto the hope that death will never come. At least it seems that way. How else can we explain away the sudden pain, anger, and anguish that follows. Sure, being shocked by a sudden death makes sense. But what of the slowly approaching death? Why are we never prepared?

Sheesh! If I could answer that question, you'd be reading this in a $24.95 soft cover, stamped by the Oprah Book Club. I have no idea why man, over thousands of years of civilization, has never bothered to properly prepare himself for the inevitable. We teach children of heaven and hell, and we teach adolescents about drugs, alcohol, and sexually transmitted plague, but we never stop to say, "By the way, people are going to die all around you for your entire life and you'll have absolutely no fucking clue how to reason it away."

The truth is, we cannot ever prepare for the unexplainable. Most people need the answers to see the reasons. We diagnose bad weather with global warming. We excuse psychosis with chemical imbalance. We site social ill when justifying crime. But we can't explain death. We can't even explain life. Billions of people walk around every single day wondering "why."

Well, I give up. We'll never know why. I suppose if we ever did know, we'd find a way to figure out why not.

The way I see it, since we can't figure things out, we have two options. We can be completely apathetic (and at the same time completely selfish because, let's face it, that's what true apathy is) or you can just take your lumps like a beat dog.

The only true pleasures in life are love and serenity and you couldn't properly define them with a thousand pens and a million learned scholars. These pillars of humanity are abstracts. So we're stuck accepting (or not) that there are only two constants, death and taxes - and I'm not getting into taxes.

All in all, we don't have it so bad though. We distract ourselves with luxuries, material pursuits, and -thank goodness- family. Thankfully we only encounter death from time to time and it sucks. We deal with it in our own ways and we move on. Each scar gives us a new perspective on things. Each moment of despair exposes a new piece of wisdom. And, with any luck, we find a way to -as the song goes- keep on keepin' on.

Rest in peace, Ruth. I will truly miss you. I pray that losing you will somehow teach me how to live and love better.

The Year of Cool Moss

2006-01-08T00:07:00.000-05:00

So, here we are in 2006. It has indeed been quite a while since The Empire let some hot air fly out into the vast empties of the world wide web but it's been said that if one has nothing good to say, one should keep his big fat pie hole shut.

I would like extend sincere apologies to any of the faithful who felt abandonned over the past several weeks, but let's be frank, all 8 of them had busy holidays too.

Enough babbling, on to the important stuff.

You're probably wondering what the hell "the year of cool moss" means. Well, it's pretty abstract but basic. A few weeks ago Mr. Bigg put a question to me. He said, "...is there anything you don't take seriously?"

Anything I don't take seriously?!?! Now, I didn't want to get into a semantic debate over prioritizing angst so, I opted against launching into a classic Empire-style tirade but the inquiry really got me thinking. Is there anything I don't take seriously? Furthermore, what's the point of taking things so seriously?

You can go through this life in willful ignorance just chugging along, wading through the media feces and social trends, disregarding what you want in favor of what you're told is best for you, and not taking anything seriously becuase you'd rather be rushing home in time to catch the reality television flavor of the month. But what kind of satisfaction does that offer? One answer could be, low blood pressure. Sure, people who don't take things seriously seldom get aggrivated and out of hand. But at the same time, if you don't take anything seriously, you end up in a passionless rut.

But Mr. Bigg did make me question the side effects of being a trigger happy critic of everything. It takes a lot out of a man to be constantly searching for a witty and sardonic angle of critique for the social ill of the day. It's just plain exhausting.

So, here's what we're going for in 2006. Cool Moss!

Cool Moss is; not crying over spilled milk, not crying over bungled politics, not throwing a bottle of Budweiser at the television set if you catch your girlfriend watching Laguna Beach. Cool Moss is; taking an afternoon off when you feel yourself losing your edge at work, accepting the fact that people that piss you off are not always doing it on purpose, enjoying it when your life is treating you well. Cool Moss is the state of being comfortable in the face embittered surroundings. Cool Moss is keeping your head when those all about you are losing theirs (yeah, I know that one is cliche.) And most importantly, Cool Moss is; killing them with comedy.

It's not a resolution. It's not a new dogma. It's not even a new outlook on life. It's just a neat little way of reminding yourself who number one is. And the next time the grocerie clerk short changes you, or your mother criticizes your lifestyle, or some guy on the street just ticks you off by looking strange, trying to say it - out loud if you can.

cool moss

And just to clarify, The Empire still firmly believes in ruthlessly criticizing, we're just going to try doing it in a cooler more laid back kind of way.

an important message:

2005-12-02T11:38:00.000-05:00

Brought to you by the letter "B"

Old News, New Twist

2005-12-01T23:59:00.000-05:00

Doesn’t it always seem like the best answers to the most interesting questions come to you long after the discussion is over? It certainly seems that way around here. So, in the spirit of showing up to the party late but always making a killer entrance, The Empire would like to dedicate this week’s entry to current events that are a little less than current. And in honor of our favorite punctual news analyst, we will bring you this installment's series of aimless complaints in the style of the Mclaughlin Group.

Issue Number 1: Hollywood’s Green Is Not So Ripe

Starting in late 2003, about every three or four weeks, invaluable news publications like People, Entertainment Weekly, and Us began waxing idiotic about the reasons and responses to the sudden and steady decline in feature film ticket sales. The first diagnosis was to pin the blame on an upsurge of internet piracy. The MPAA spent many months and millions of dollar whining, like the inbred members of Metallica, that consumers were getting their flick on by downloading new releases at home.

We’ll repeat that because it’s the kind of thing that causes most readers’ brains to suddenly veer off like a 90-pound cheerleader who just had her first shot of Jager and is trying to race her “best friend” to the jukebox.

The Motion Picture Association of America thought that John Q. Moviegoer was skipping his Friday nights at the local Cineplex Odeon because he preferred watching rough-cut camcorder copies of brand new movies on a 21-inch desktop computer screen - complete with Taiwanese subtitles - to actually going out and seeing them in a theater.

Well, as The Empire is so happy to provide, here is some free advice to the over-swollen egos just westward of logic-Ville.

Dear Hollywood, most people stopped going to the movies when the movies all turned to freeze-dried crap packets. We’re sick of movies about a hard-nosed don’t take no jive teacher who rescues a bunch of misanthropic teenagers from wasting their lives with drugs and crime. Also, we get it, you can make every horror movie more bloody than the last AND you can still make a camera cut sharply to the left with properly timed music that makes most weak bladdered youngsters cry like you kicked their puppy.

And finally, STOP REMAKING EVERYTHING!!! Between the pointless and plotless sequels and the non-stop “21st century spins on a classic” people have no interest in paying ten bucks to see a good movie a second time when isn’t any good anymore. Seeing a remake feels a lot like what happens when you see an edge of your seat thriller and some jerkoff next to you spoils the whole thing by telling what happens in the end. Except in these movies, that jerkoff IS YOU!

Perhaps if all of the rich and creative minds out in California could band together and make something that is both new and, dare we suggest, interesting, people might actually want to spend time in a dark room for two and half hours with a hundred complete strangers.

Issue Number 2: Lombardi Would Not Approve

For anyone who missed it, earlier this week former Dallas Cowboy and mediocre television sports commentator Michael Irving was arrested on drug related charges AGAIN. As though it wasn’t tricky enough to be a wealthy black man in America, citizens throughout the nation now have to deal with yet another middle-aged celebrity who is reinforcing the worst kind of stereotypes by, as Disco Charlie might say, taking too many trips up to the candy mountain.

Seriously Michael. You’ve got a job that most men would give a testicle for, maybe even two. You talk sports, you wear nice suits, you meet famous players, and you schmooze with the glitterati, that’s it. What can a puff of white powder up the nose give you that life has not already laid on your incredibly expensive doorstep? For goodness sake, we’re in a playoff hunt here! T.O.’s finally gone away, Randy Moss isn’t making enough plays to open his fat mouth, and the Eagles and the Ravens are sucking harder than George W. Bush at a public speaking contest, what more could you ask for? Do yourself and everyone else a favor. Don’t be the douche who ruined December by making an ass of himself so noticeably that we forget how wonderful he was on the field.

Issue Number 3: It’s A Corporate Holiday, Stupid

We’ll keep this one short in the interest of not igniting a huge socio-political debate.

Christmas does not belong to Christians anymore. Sorry, your time is over. Now don’t misread this, The Empire is not pulling a New York/LA Times and joining the “hate on Christianity” bandwagon. We’re just saying that this particular tribal tradition no longer has anything to do with religion. Christmas is green and red. Christmas is sales. Christmas is those damned giant golden balls in the mall, atonal caroling, credit card spending, alienating your family, over eating, over drinking, and meaningless eccentric joy. As of 2005 every man, woman and child in American should realize that we, in fact, can come together for 5 weeks and celebrate the fact that our life, wellbeing, and economy are inseparably tied to Santa’s ass.

Happy Friday Everybody!

a diatribe on chick drinks

2005-11-17T21:11:00.000-05:00

Cosmopolitans, appletinis, lemon drops, flirtinis, cream-puff-chocolate-friggin-cake-tinis! Back in my days as a bartender there was no end in sight. With the coming of each new season so came the newest "it" drink that every botox injected, Fendi wearing, J-Lo fragrance stinking, rocket-nosed, bobble-headed, investment banker's midlife crisis solving arm candy just had to have. With almost dead-on accuracy, one could clock the time from which the drink was mentioned on Sex and the City until the next Thursday night that the words would come dripping from their mouths like over-mileage oil out of a '84 Eldorado. "Um, I wanna try this new drink it's called 'kerklank'. Do you know how to make it?"

Here's a math problem for everyone: What level of self loathing does a big titted blonde bimbo have to possess in order to choose with deliberate certainty a beverage based solely on how fictitious characters look consuming it? For the love of all things sacred, 90% of the time they don't even want to know what they're drinking. They just want to be seen drinking it! Take my word for it, it hurts a bartender's feelings.

I know what you're thinking. What difference does it make to the bartender? Why should he care? Well let's get a few things straight, there are a few simple rules that you can adhere to in order to ensure a good time for all patrons and barstaff alike.

1. Nothing blended, nothing muddled. I don't care what kind of machine he's got back there, no bartender is happy to make a blended or muddled drink. It's always five moves more complicated than it's worth. He can make another drink that will net him the same tip by lifting a single bottle. If it's blended or muddled, it's a pain in the ass. Bar none.

2. If the base ingredient of your drink is not vodka, gin, whiskey, rum, or tequila the bartender has to move further than he wants to to get it. You see, for anyone who doesn't know, the well rack is always right in front of the bartender at about lap level. He can grab the ingredient, pour, shake and serve without having to spin around like a retarded kid in an interpretive dance class. A mixer or two is reasonable, but if the ingredient list starts looking an ancient Mayan potion for restoring a horse’s virility you’re going to be looking at one pissed off blue collar worker.

3. A drink that requires more than one piece of fruit is a piece of shit. Bloody mary, tom collins, amaretto sour, all pretty simple drinks to mix. But once I have to start sticking a damn supermarket salad bar on a thin plastic stick, you, as a customer, have become about as pleasant as a rectal exam.

4. Bars are for drinking, NOT eating. Sure, it's a problem that has been created almost entirely by the onset of franchised restaurant empires, but you can be part of the solution rather than the ever-swelling problem. If the bartender wanted to watch you slug down a charcoal dry salmon steak he wouldn't be a bartender, he'd be your damned waiter. The same waiter, I might add, who's not getting a table sat in his section because your dull ass is parked at the bar instead.

5. Tip well. Bartenders put up with far too much crap day in and day out to suffer through a bad tip on top of it and not murder someone. The term "go postal" would have been "go bartenderized" if it wasn't such a syllabic car wreck.

So, what does all this have to do with chick drinks? The answer is pretty simple. Professional drinkers like the taste of alcohol. They like vodka, gin, whiskey, rum, and tequila. Sometimes all together. And when people, not just those with actual vaginas but metaphorical ones as well, start ordering fruit flavored, pink looking, fu-fu perfume samplers in a cocktail glass they start making life hard on the bartender. And as we have already addressed, bartending is already the kind of job that can crush your soul like a dixie cup under Star Jones' solar eclipsing ass. So, another trendy chick drink really just isn't what society needs right now.

A free piece of advice for chick drink drinkers. If you want to get sauced with your "sisters" over a Faith Hill album, some cheap desserts, and a bad hair dye kit, please please please just pick up a case of Mike's Hard Lemonade (or as The Empire likes to call it: Mike's Fairly-Easy-To-Slip-By-The-Powers-That-Be Teenage Date Rape Drug) and hangout in your father's/husband's/rich brother's/ex-boyfriend-who-has-no-backbone's shiny new SUV with the 'they were almost cool for eight seconds on a black guy's car' spinning rims and stay out of the bar.

Bars are for drinkers.

Steelers Statement Regarding the Death of Steve Courson

2005-11-11T08:08:00.000-05:00

We are saddened to learn of the sudden and untimely death of Steve Courson. Our deepest sympathies go out to his family and friends during this extremely difficult time.

Steve was an integral member of our last two Super Bowl Championship teams, and returned to the Pittsburgh area after he retired from football. Steve battled back from health problems in recent years and seemed to have made a full recovery.

We will remember Steve for his many on-field contributions to our football club as well as for the caring person he was away from the game. Steve Courson will remain in our prayers and will be missed by everyone who knew him.

Headlines by The Empire

2005-11-08T23:30:00.000-05:00

As we close the door on November 8, 2005, The Empire would like to take some time to recognize a few truly ridonkculous issues; the things that are doing their best to chap the ass of every patient, hard-working American with better things to think about. These are not listed in any particular order.

Who gives a crap about Terrell Owens aside from people in southern New Jersey? Sure we as a society take sports too seriously and probably allow it to affect our lives too deeply in general, but it's sports. We draw such incalculable entertainment and joy from investing ourselves in something that boils down to men running around and throwing a ball. And Terrell Owens is the throbbing pus-filled back pimple of the National Football League. We're talking about a man that is squandering world-class talent and opportunity by embracing his gutter class personality. The Empire is truly sick and tired of hearing and reading the endless conjecture and speculation from the news media on the Terrell Owens issue(s). Tomorrow's headline should simply read: Terrell Owens is still a huge dickhead. There's no need for a sub-line or story, the headline brings everyone up to speed and then that's it. We, as a people, can move on.

And could someone get the word out that school shootings are completely retarded? When The Empire pulls up the CNN and FoxNews websites and is presented with the choice between lampooning the news that a cargo plane crashed into a Wal-Mart or yet another school shooting occurred in the great white South... well, it's just kind of a snark-buster. Enough already! When did high school kids become such maladjusted wussies? "Oh no. My fragile adolescent ego has been damaged. I'd better go get a Sig Sauer and SHOOT SOME PEOPLE!" The Empire has one official comment: "WTF?"

Moving on. Anyone else tired of hearing that gay marriage laws were struck down in Texas? Seriously? This is news? How about this, just underneath the TO headline we can stick a blurb piece on how the South and Midwest don't like gays, that's why Boston, San Francisco, and the West Village exist. We don't need another movement of state legislature. The public would be better served if politics stuck to the important stuff, like unmitigated wasteful spending and warmongering.

And what complaint would be complete without our own Disco Charlie's favorite news topic, Intelligent Design vs. Evolution. See, Disco Charlie is from Minnesota where no one gives a crap where man came from or why, just that man finds some place warm to stick his toes when there are 57 inches of snow coming down and the Vikings are losing to the Chicago Bears. Again! But lucky for Disco Charlie, the great creationist debate slugs on. Dateline Kansas: Bible toting Christians prefer to stick their heads in the sand and ignore all those pesky scientists with their facts and figures. Oh yeah. There is now a LAW in Kansas that promotes a religious theory over objective science in the educational system. Goodness knows we love it when church and government get into bed together. It works so well in IRAN! Sheesh. The Empire doesn't want to offend its right wing base so we'll put the brakes on there.

Finally, thanks to Don for being brave enough to actually pose for that unbearably hysterical picture. I'm sure he'll be locking and loading for the school's cafegymatorium soon enough. Goodnight folks!

Behold

2005-11-04T11:11:00.000-05:00

Zeus: The Roethlisweiler

And speaking of birthdays...

2005-11-04T08:08:00.000-05:00

Let's all wish Basegirl a happy b-dizzle.

Go Yankees!

I must brrreak you

2005-11-03T18:00:00.000-05:00

This episode is all about birthdays. Well about 4 specific birthdays. Mostly about 1. One huge unimportant birthday of awesomeness. Yes, today The Empire salutes 2 crappy actors, 1 crappy actor who has a master's degree in engineering, and 1 mediocre actor who was really badass before he grew too old to be tough.

Number 1 is, of course, our cover stud Dolph "even though I am actually Swedish I've never been cast as Swedish because Americans moviegoers can only identify foreigners as British or enemies" Lundgren. Good ol' Dolph came a-stoppin into fame and all of our hearts with his delicate and multifaceted portrayal of Ivan Drago in the cinematic masterpiece, Rocky IV. Yes, nothing makes for a better movie than some empty cliché characters and dozens of reinforced cultural stereotypes. And and and, our buddy Sly Stallone. Happy Birthday Dolph, good to know you've been putting that impressive post graduate degree to good use.

Number 2 is Kate Capshaw who reminds us that sleeping your way to the top isn't just for corporate America. Kate, that sweetheart for those of you who don't know, was moments away from losing her role (her only role that we'd know about) in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom to Sharon Stone - an arguably better actress - but managed to secure her life-long bread winning and syndicated part by sleeping with Steven Spielberg. Well done Kate. You may have gained a movie "career" and husband but you certainly lost our respect. Wait. Failed to earn our respect? Nah. Mostly we don't care about you at all. Happy Birthday.

Number 3. Rosanne. Oh yeah. Rosanne. Barre or Arnold or whatever your name is. Thanks for making sure that no one in the world can forget just how repulsive white trash can be. And how enduring too. And rich. And still classless. And fat. That's right, I said it, Rosanne is fat. And crude. And annoying. And rich. And fat. And white trash. And not really funny at all. And fat....

And Number 4. Charles Fuckin Bronson. There are no bad things to say about Charles Bronson, as long as you pretend he died immediately after making "Death Wish" in 1974 rather than in 2003 after decades of sad action movie obscurity. RIP Chuck. And happy not birthday. We'll always use the stupid rope.

The Empire Winces

2005-11-01T14:00:00.000-05:00

Well well well, looks like the cylce is finally complete. George Lucas has finally crashed the ambulance and The Empire's namesake can finally be at rest.

As of November 1, (Not) Star Wars, Episode III : Revenge of the Splif is fully available to the general viewing public on DVD. And despite the fact that it was a total piece of crap it will certainly sell like crazy.

The Empire wholly disapproves and demands that Lucas Films stops, turns around, and remakes these three prequals in "Non suck" special editions, available for immediate release. Also, they should be given away at no charge to people who paid to see any of them in the theater.

People who paid to see all three in the theater should be paid a thousand dollars by Lucas himself. Hand delivered. In the freezing rain. With no shoes on.

Pumpkins, not melons!

2005-10-27T13:16:00.000-04:00

So it went a little something like this.

A bright muse named Basegirl says to me, "Can you explain something to me? Maybe this makes me old, but I do not understand when Halloween went from 'semi-holiday where people dress up as superheroes and dead presidents' to 'day which makes it okay for women to wear lingerie in public and act like drunken sluts.' I'm old, aren't I?"

I would editorialize my response but it just reads better on its own, without pulling any punches.

-> It's not an old thing. It's a slutification of America thing.

It started on college campuses at a dozen-thousand Halloween themed frat house parties. Drunk blond linebacker mattresses decided that it would be easier to fill the void in the lives cough(legs)cough by being a "cat" or "little devil" or "pirate wench" or "slutty nurse" or"overbearing father's disappointment and overall regret."

And now that the whole country subsists on a strict diet of violence and white middle-class jail-bait ass, every 30something suburban office girl, who's got Dilbert clippings up on the walls of her cubicle and lives on the Oprah book club, decides that Halloween is her chance to break free from her mundane life of crying herself to sleep, thinking about how lucky Angelina Jolie is to have touched just a hair on brad Pitt, by cutting loose and dressing up in somethingthat's cut two sizes too small for her chunky monkey indiscretions and sticking her tongue in the 23 year-old mail-room clerk's mouth during the company sponsored Halloween happy hour at the local Shenanigans familybar and grill.

<- Of course, that was just a quick gut type reaction to the question. I could be wrong.

Why, Sly, Why?

2005-10-18T22:00:00.000-04:00

Has Sylvester Stallone completely lost his mind? Sure sure, we know what you're all thinking, who give a crap about Sylvester Stallone. But let's keep something in mind while we're tearing him a new one, this is a man who created two hugely enduring and iconic film franchises almost completely on his own. He became so big that he literally erased himself and became the figures that he portrayed on screen. So, in that vein The Empire asks this question again; has Sly finally taken the last step over the edge of reason into the everlasting pit of diluted Hollywood obscurity and nutcaseness?

In case anyone didn't know what brought this sudden bought of infuriating rage on, reports have been confirmed that Sly has penned deals to reprise his roles as John J. Rambo and Rocky Balboa in 4th and 6th installments of the two film franchises that allowed him to make movies like "Stop or My Mom Will Shoot," pose nude in Vanity Fair, and market his own line of health supliments and not, as most normal people would, actually DIE of embarrassment.

I know, I know, you're shocked. SHOCKED and APALLED! As my dear cousin might say. Rambo 4? Rocky 6? Maybe Rocky 5 wasn't the terrible plot we all thought it was, maybe it was true. Maybe Stallone has suffered irreparable brain damage from being punched in the head two many times in the first four movies. And word on the street is that he's trying to sign Roy Jones Jr. to play the nemesis fighter in the latter of these soon to be train wrecks. Roy Jones Jr?!?! //derdooinggg//

What? Was "The Matrix Reloaded" not evidence enough that this man has crippling difficulty stringing scripted words together to form a sentence? Sure, we'll take a president who can't say nuclear properly, but this is movie entertainment we're talking about people! Who's going to be the enemy in Rambo 4? A rouge Danish terrorist hell bent on overthrowing the Fox network? Played by Casper Van Dien, even?

The Empire likes Stallone. We're willing to forgive him his latter day disasters because he has, overall, made a positive contribution to movie making at large. Hell, even "Cliffhanger" has some redeeming qualities to it. But this is just going tooooooooo far.

For crying out loud, how can there be a Rambo 4 when no one has bothered to correct the counting error that's already sticking out like a severred thumb in the trilogy? Oh what, you hadn't heard? THERE WASN'T A RAMBO 2! It went like this:

First Blood, Rambo: First Blood Part II, and Rambo III

Um, WHAT! Anybody else notice the problem? How's about this for a suggestion, Sly? Fix the first three then we can talk about a fourth salute to your biceps. And I think you lost your Rocky priviledges after... well, let's just call a spade a spade- Tommy "Machine Gunn" Morrison.

Man oh man. I need a drink. Is Lethal Weapon on tv tonight?

Is no news really good news?

2005-10-12T11:30:00.000-04:00

The Empire had planned to bring you, the adoring public, a new installment of News From Around The Globe. But as it turns out, nothing is going on. Now, this is not to say the all the papers have run blank and the net news blogs have gone unpublished. It just seems that the news is not telling us anything of worth these days. And that got me to thinking, is it not worthy or do we just not care what's doin'.

The proverb goes, "ignorance is bliss." But perhaps the old wise men missed the point. Maybe it's not ignorance that truly makes one happy, maybe it's apathy. The Empire would submit that true and consistent apathy is really the way to keep your world free of sadness and stress. Why argue with the borderline retarded redneck who runs your office's mail room? Just pick up your overdue invoices and comfortably know that he'll probably die of a violent colon infection. Why bother honking at the blonde in the Jeep Grand Cherokee who cut you off while she was gabbing on her cell phone? You can almost envision her perishing in a heap of twisted burning sheet metal when she goes rolling off the highway on-ramp. But that's not really apathy, that's faith in karma. Real apathy is complete emotional discompassion. It's the confidence in yourself to disassociate hate, angst, excitement, and frustration. It's not letting emotional weakness get the better of you. And it's knowing that being stoic is always better than advertising your emotions to the world.

So, in effect, no news is good news. Knowing what's going on but not getting wrapped up in the hysteria is priceless. Ignoring the people you used to hate, taking care of the people you love, being a mystery to all of them, these are the ways to avoid problems. People who live on islands often have to weather out storms because there's no where else to go. Well, we all live on emotional islands and we can't run away from the happenings of our lives. So, why not just not care as much. If you don't make something a big deal, then it isn't. 95% of any news or event is perception. The other 5% is fictitious elaboration.

So, what's the real key to enjoying life? The Empire recommends German beer and ocean.

Two servings for Monday night

2005-10-09T23:21:00.000-04:00

As though The Empire wasn't nervous enough...

Monday, October 10th, 2005, for the time being we'll call it stress city. By Tuesday it may have a more explicit or exciting title. The Stillers will be in San Diego for MNF battling to come back from a stultifying loss to the New England PrettyBoys and the Janks will be at Angels stadium in Anaheim fighting to advance to yet another ALCS. The Empire may, in fact, have a total schizo breakdown.

And this is what professional sports is all about. Sure all those cleverly written and scored commercials for Gatorade and the NFL Network may talk about glory or bringing "it" but sports, for the fan at least isn't about any of that. It's about complete and utter channel flipping madness. The fan is tense. The fan is loud. The fan is emotional, irrational, impulsive, and most of all greedy. We want it all! But what happens when we get it all. Four teams, two sports, two HUGE games (at least from the fans' perspective.) There are times when picture-in-picture cannot be given a price tag. The Empire sure wishes it's Toshiba had it. Sheesh!

Frankly, we're out of ideas on how to handle this situation. We're more than open to suggestions. Which channel do we start on? Which color scheme do we wear to work? Who are we tomorrow, Black and Gold or Pinstripes? It's completely insane. But we'll get through it. We'll survive because, let's be honest, we've seen worse situations.

All we can truly hope for are two wins and a modicum, the sheer resemblance, of acumen.

Target practice

2005-10-07T10:33:00.000-04:00

Today on The Empire:

People Who Should be Shot with a Tennis Ball Cannon.......... (watch out, it stings!)

First off: There are no words. A couple of rounds for that right there.

Moving on. The Empire is zeroing the cannon westward towards ye-old Tom Cruise. Let's get something straight here, Tom. You're old! Sure, you're still constitute enough hunkitude to fuel the wet dreams of millions of chicks (and some dudes) out there, but Katie Holmes is young and awesome and NOT FOR YOU. Give her back to the youthful men who grew up watching you steal the previous generation of hotties. You suck ass, Tom! Damn, why do so many of your movies have to rock the house down?

Oil! Oil, sure the tennis balls would just flop into you and sink (or maybe float, probably float) but smacking you with a few dozen zippy rounds would make The Empire feel better about being ostensibly anally raped at the Mobil pump.

Karl Rove, you need to chill the hell out. You were all "the total man" last November but now you're pissing people off. Well, you were pissing half the country off last year but at least the other half thought you were kool. Now, everyone thinks you're a sketchball. A Penn 9 at 90mph for you, sir.

Microsoft, do you need a set of shots to the chest to be confirmed dead or alive? Where are you? Still cowering in the corner under the shadow of iPodness.

And we'd call for a few balls in Cameron Diaz's face but her mouth is just too big and we wouldn't have enough to go around to the other dumb kids.

Al Pacino, stop making crap. You used to be the greatest ever.

And 300 lighting fast tennis-ball-sock-in-the-faces for the Red Sox. I haven't forgotten to hate you. There will be balls for the Ravens later, once we've restocked.

Peace out suckas!

Because I'm Loved In My Workplace

2005-10-06T10:48:00.000-04:00

nuf. said.

Catastrophe and the Network News

2005-10-05T09:30:00.000-04:00

Let us accept that complaining about Katrina coverage will certainly ruffle a few feathers. A whole lotta people were killed, injured, displaced, distressed, and generally screwed by nature's irritable bowel syndrome, the hurricane, and that righteously sucks, fo sho. But for the rest of the country we need to know that things are moving on.

No one is suggesting that we, as a nation of watchers and consumers, simply forget about the damage and suffering in the Gulf Coast region, but we do need to be able to turn on the news and see something other than an over made-up, rolled up pressed shirted, pretty boy in a network news hat standing in front of a level strip mall telling us how Bubba Winfield is still picking up the pieces of his civil war gun replica store.

Message to CNN, MSNBC, CNBC, FoxNews, and whoever else is broadcasting these days: "We Get It! Lot's of stuff got knocked over. How about giving us some timely news about how the country is dealing with it. Ooh, and maybe what's going on in the rest of the world. We'd read the New York Times for our news, but we're tired of being told how crappy America is and how much it needs Big Government to straighten everything out."

The Times sucks like the Ravens and television news isn't far behind. Are people really comfortable getting their news from headlines? A question that merits some exploration. But not today. Today we will just have to be satisfied with complaining.

The Empire is giving up on television news sources. From now on it's Google News and The Onion. And, of course, the Internet Movie Database.

The Floppy Stitch

2005-10-03T22:00:00.000-04:00

We think the title says it all. So, rather than writing the second installment of "The Empire Bitches About The Holes In Its Mouth," we thought it might be a refreshing alternative to just present you with some comedy. Check out this fun family-friendly drama.

The Newest Big Thing!

The Empire Takes One In The Mouth

2005-10-02T21:19:00.000-04:00

"Cut me, Mick, cut me."

Never have more bold and foolish words been said. But knowing no better, I marched my easily convincable ass into a doctor's office this week and let a man who's sworn duty it is to improve health and well-being drill four giant vacuous holes into my jaw and lower sinus region.

So, what now? You ask. Well, now there is no booze, no peanuts, no red pepper flakes, and definitely no steak, and we all know how The Empire feels about steak.

Basically it's a huge downer. The haziness, the swelling, the queasy feeling when I try to do complicated things like say STAND UP. And that's not all. Because I'm a major schmuck, I dragged myself through the streets of Boston (in a Yankee hat to cover up my scarily matted hair) and up into the Prudential tower to work, where I can now enjoy the vertigo of my window seat and the learing eyes of the chippy pink interns. It's almost like they're seeing facial hair for the first time.

And here I sit. Grouchy, stinky, achey, woozy. Wishing all of you a happy Monday. The Empire's not snarking anyone until it can at least bite down on a microwavable noodle.

Tuesdays and heavy drinking

2005-09-27T09:12:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-09-23T09:45:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-22T09:30:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-21T09:55:00.000-04:00

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???

2005-09-20T10:00:00.000-04:00

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!!

2005-09-19T15:30:00.000-04:00

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!

2005-09-18T22:00:00.000-04:00

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!

2005-09-16T10:00:00.000-04:00

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)

2005-09-15T17:40:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-15T09:37:00.000-04:00

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)

2005-09-14T10:05:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-13T09:59:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-12T11:29:00.000-04:00

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...

2005-09-12T09:49:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-09T10:00:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-08T10:00:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-06T17:36:00.000-04:00

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.

2005-09-06T10:00:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-02T10:00:00.000-04:00

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

2005-09-01T10:20:00.000-04:00

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!!

To Jose, With Love

2005-08-31T13:41:00.000-04:00

....because tequila can be combined with more than just juice and mixers.

Some Arbitrary Hate

2005-08-31T12:40:00.000-04:00

The Empire submits that Baltimore Ravens quarterback, Kyle Boller, sucks at life. The Empire officially hates him. Reasons may follow, or may not...

My Euphemism Hurts or: Yahoo for Women

2005-08-31T10:00:00.000-04:00

Americans have given so much to the world; the car, the semi-automatic pistol, Scooby-Do, and now we're giving out democracy like free samples of deodorant at a gay pride parade. But one of the most enduring contributions of American culture is the renaming of Wednesday. Of course I'm referring to the ever pleasant Humpday. Yes, we as a nation are parent to some of the brightest ideas in technology and art, and we also named a day in our week after an undesirable physical deformity. Cheers! But in honor of humpday, The Empire has decided to honor the owners of the hump; women. (Please direct your prickly liberal cranky anti-fun feminist darts at the comments section and not at my head as you see me passing on the street.)

Here's a salute to some special women:

Natalie Portman - Not too much to say about Natalie, she's just great. Super. Marvelous. Awesome. Rad. Excellent. Sweet! Rockin'. Well, you get it. No one hates Natalie because there's not much to dislike at all. Let's put up a toast to one big class act. Plus she's really really really irresistibly cute! Yes, The Empire has a heart... and other organs as well.
Faith Hill - In case anyone forgot, Faith Hill is still really really really annoying. And her husband produces music that is so racially insensitive it would make David Duke blush. The Empire is anxiously waiting for Faith Hill's career to graduate to Bar Mitzvahs and Tuesday night specials at the Cincinnati Ho Jo Sing Song Bar.
Raquel Welch - Three words; timeless, timeless, timeless. Industrial grade construction should last this long and with such style. Taking notes, Cher!?!?
Paris Hilton - When oh when will Paris Hilton just go away forever? Does the world really have to end to prove a point? The Empire submits that she is the catalyst of pure evil in the universe and the sooner she is destroyed the sooner we can start really worrying about pesky things like global warming and getting to the moon... again!
Angie Harmon - This is one special lady. Two huge points for her. One for being knock down stunning and another for not turning into any kind of famous athlete's wife cliche. The Empire wants to know what it can do about getting this woman her own network or at the very least a nationally recognized holiday. Plus, didn't she just kick all kinds of ass on Law & Order?
Hillary Clinton - Even though she's a senator now, she still reminds us of Uncle Joe Stalin. Let's think about that in 2008. Just sayin'.
Mona Lisa - Thanks should be to Mona, who reminds us that quality film work like "Buttsizer 2: The King of Rears," "Breast Wishes 5," "The Joy Dick Club," and "The Four Finger Club 21" truly does improve with age. Happy 35th Mona.

See you next humpday, kids.

The Man Who Would Be Bond or: Holy Crap This Will Suck

2005-08-30T18:30:00.000-04:00

THIS MAN SHOULD NOT BE BOND! If there is any justice and/or style left in the world, Daniel Craig will never be 007. The Empire begs you all to pray for the soul of the longest running (and coolest) film franchise in history. He has two first names. He's got an addict's eyes. And he was Tomb Raider for crying out loud! That alone should constitute immediate disqualification. 'Nuf said.

A Salute To Moisture or: How Katrina and Her Sweat Ruined My Shirt

2005-08-30T11:00:00.000-04:00

For those of you who have central air conditioning in your home, an enclosed garage, and indoor parking where you work; The Empire says, "Piss On You!" We in the real world walked to work this cheerful Tuesday morning.
Sure hot weather is great. No, it's lovely, splendid, and magnificent. If the maker really loved us the entire planet would be 86 degree beachfront property. Clearly, he does not love us that much... In the northeast today we have water. Water in the air, water on our backs, and water whisking around in our pants because even if you walk ten feet from your house to work, you're sweating through your shirt and swimming down the street. And who doesn't love 100% humidity? You can't get a tan, it's too wet to play sports, animals are grouchy, and an entire region of the country feels like the floor of a New York City taxi. It's in this spirit that we have our salute to moisture.

> Knock Knock! It's the apocalypse. The Federal Emergency management Agency has officially stated that hurricane Katrina was catastrophic, giving confidence and I-told-you-so pride to hundreds of soulless newscasters who felt a bit sheepish last hurricane season after whipping the entire Gulf Coast into a state of panic for what amounted to be just another annoying hurricane season. Congratulations are in order for the news media; for once in a long while your daily practice of inciting public paranoia has paid off. We'll be sure to stop our lives and listen the next time a Fox News Alert comes swooping in to tell us that "something" might be developing... maybe. The Empire wishes you the best of sweat today.

> Knock Knock! It's the apocalypse (Mark Bellhorn.) That's right. Unsatisfied with the miniscule portion of Terry Francona's chewn table scraps they got in Alan Embree, the Yankees have decided to pick up double-chinned, greasy-haired sensation Mark Bellhorn, who was well on his way to earning Major League Baseball's highest single season strike-out record before he was sidelined with an injury last month. The Empire salutes the Yankee organization for once again proving that money really does grow on trees. And in the spirit of saluting sweat, who better than a man who sweats whenever he pees into a plastic cup. Well, he seems to be sweaty all the time. But The Empire will assume that most of it is leftovers that he forgot to shower off. Forgot being a negotiable term.
What the hell do the Yankees need Mark Bellhorn for? Was Jason Giambi's steroid scandal not enough drug related excitement? Do they really need the king of Mt. Stonedmore? The Empire can only assume that the Yankees are looking forward to trading talented rookie Robinson Cano for another just-finishing-his-prime pitcher who will make headlines by going to NY and subsequently hurting himself. Bellhorn will fill the hole in the infield (at second base) and then create an even bigger hole in the ninth slot of the line-up. Go Yankees! And Go Money!

> Knock Knock! It's Oil, and it's pissed off. More gifts from hurricane Katrina. With the majority of US oil production halted Americans can expect more anal raping of their wallets at the pump this month. Again, The Empire would have something funny to say about this, but each stroke of key keeps the computer on longer, which uses more power, which costs The Empire money it could be spending on good SCOTCH!

> Thud! Actor Martin Sheen joined anti-war protesters camped around George "I love peanut brittle" Bush's Texas ranch last week to voice his opposition to the ongoing battle in Iraq. The Empire files this news under, Breaking Duh! Martin Sheen should focus his attention on keeping his career in order as he will clearly be supporting his two sons Charlie and Emilio Estevez for the rest of his natural life. Let's keep our eyes on the ball Marty, Apocalypse Nows and West Wings don't just fall out of the sky every day.

> Finally, The Empire would like to remind everyone that two things are vital in our modern world: deodorant and respect of personal space in elevators.

Coors Lite for Life or: Why No One Needs a "Case" of the Mondays?

2005-08-29T11:00:00.000-04:00

And a bright and happy Monday morning to you. I say to hell with the Monday morning blues, it's those Friday morning "oh dear lord the week's not finished but I have a hangover" blues that really get to you. By comparison to the splitting headache and the loathsome guilt of embarrassing yourself in front of your co-workers at "Tequila Jimmy's" 2-for-1-shot Thursday Happy Hour, Monday just isn't so bad. So in the spirit of Monday, here is some great news that August 29th 2005 brings to our life.

> Football is here. With NFL Preseason Week 3 coming to a close with tonight's Monday Night Game on ABC (starring the painfully idiotic John Madden,) we can all get excited at the prospect of remembering what buffalo wings, cheese balls, and Coors Lite taste like. No autumn is complete without the sprint to pack on the modicum of weight you've lost in the scorching excitement of the summer. For that matter, solid lard should become the official halftime snack of the NFL. We all learned last week, with the tragic passing of 23 year old 49ers rookie Thomas Herrion, that it's bad for your health to be hefty and running around on a field all day, with full gear on, in Californian heat, and bashing into other huge guys. But as long as you're hefty and sitting in a comfortable chair, in a home with central air, with celery on the side, a can of lite beer in your hand, and fully stocked cabinet of Levitra in your bathroom you're OK!
But seriously. I love football like I love my mother; more for a couple of months a year than others. And The Empire believes that if anything can be learned from the unfortunate loss of a young man like Thomas Herrion, it is that death is fickle and even those in our society that make their living with their bodies and depend on being "in shape" are susceptible bugs that we never see coming. So, while we're all enjoying our football junk food, and The Empire 100% endorses such behavior, let's remember to balance it out with a salad and a soda water for lunch on Monday. That's the best (and most) diet advice The Empire will ever give; balance.

> Monday the 29th brings us the news that North Korea is still a pain in the ass. But if nothing else it does give us some perspective. What can we say about a country whose people are starving but needs to be in a "talk" with five other countries to discuss the future of its nuclear program? Sure the United States looks like crap from time to time, but at least we waste money on things like glitterly billboards, SUVs, and Paris Hilton before we think about diverting money to the development of weapons rather than feeding the hungry. The Empire suggests that we, as a nation, just level with North Korea. Let's all concede that the only people really interested in using nuclear weapons are the Indians and Pakistanis. And they're such silly kids anyway.
So who needs 'em, the nukes that is? Let's all invest in building cheaper more exciting sports cars. There's something that will stimulate international cooperation! We'll need longer, flatter roads. Everyone will need to take courses in power sliding. Not to mention the fast demand for inept mechanics. And do not forget higher demands for petrol. More oil production makes everyone happy, especially the Saudis. And isn't that what really counts?

> Monday the 29th also teaches us that America still loves reality television. And The Empire would have something snarky to say about that, BUT IT MAKES ME TOO ANGRY TO TYPE!

> And happy 47th birthday to Michael Jackson! Michael, you get away with felonies even faster and with less enthusiasm than O.J. Simpson and for that The Empire salutes you. Thank you for reminding us that the rich truly can beat the system. All the best on your special day.

> The Empire would like to remind all the faithful out there that life is hard. So appreciate the ones you love. Because they'll laugh if you lose control of your bladder at an inopportune moment but still love you.

Happy Monday Everyone!

2005-08-26T21:43:00.000-04:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

To Rise Above or: Why I'm okay with being a snob

2005-08-25T21:00:00.000-04:00

Conventional wisdom and popular science tell us that the difference between a man and an animal is something like abstract thought, perception, self awareness, or the ability to communicate. I whole heartedly disagree. The difference is far more simple. A man behaves like a man should, an animal doesn't know how to behave so he is no better than his worst impulse.

Picture this. A somewhat timid city street, say in Boston's South End. Cars drive by intermittently, stopping for pedestrians in the crosswalk. A bus rattles by. A few restaurants are ramping up for the night as a diner closes for the day. And down the street walks a young man, 15 years old give or take a growth spurt, let's call him an urban youth. He holds in his hand a sub/grinder/hero/hoagie/a damned sandwich for crying out loud. As he passes a quiet, tree-lined street he flicks, from the sandwich, pickle slices. Like chunks of a poorly constructed space transportation vehicle which shall remain nameless, these pickle slices wizz and splat on the pavement. So gripped by the prospect of banishing all the evil pickles from his delicate supper, the youth loses grip of the sandwich bag and a handful of napkins. And guess what? He just lets them fly. Off to sit on the street corner like a huge pile of pigeon crap. In twenty feet this boy has created more litter than a five-dollar Las Vegas hooker on free condom day at the planned parenthood clinic. This, I submit, is an animal.

I'll save you the delicate metaphors and get right to it. I live on this block. He doesn't. I don't litter. He CLEARLY does. And I'll bet my big toe that he litters everywhere. I'll bet he litters on his own block. His home is probably awash with dirty clothes, used papers, opened boxes, and straight up garbage. Having not possessed the presence of mind to ask the deli counter to abstain from applying pickles to his sandwich, this kid thought it completely appropriate to calmly discard his mess on the street I walk down every morning on my way to work. This is not the behavior of a man!

Once prehistoric apes began to walk upright they started putting their waste in appropriate places. First and foremost they stopped hurling their own dung like the monkeys and they found a place where garbage belonged. We in the civilized world do the same thing, but we don't just stop at the crap. We have other specifically designed recepticals for waste disposal. We call these places garbage bins, trash cans, and waste baskets. A pig does not care if its covered in mud eating out of a moldy dumpster, a man does. A man shows himself respect. And duly, he is shown respect by others. I cannot express in words how tragic I find people who demand respect but clearly have no concept of how to earn it.

My mother calls it "breeding" and "refinement." I call it the difference between a man and a dog. And I mean dog in the way that Danny Trejo says it in "From Dusk Til Dawn." Real dogs I love. I can't live without them. That's why they're called man's best friend. A dog, or as they are so commonly referred to in street slang - a DAWG, is filth. And YES, I realize that this is an extremely snobbish thing to say. But I don't care. I think I've earned the right to judge.

I regret that I did not say anything to the pickle flinger. Perhaps it was my self preservation instincts that avoid pointless confrontation. I called it pointless because nothing I say in a heated street exchange is going to change what this boy has clearly learned is acceptable behavior. Or perhaps I didn't see the point of correcting him with words. I think it's a mixture of the two. Society has always seen that the best way to enact change is to lead by example. So, that's what I'll do. Continue not being an animal and clean up after myself. And maybe, if I'm feeling gutsy, throw even more dirty looks at the animals as they pass. Sure I'm a snob. But I'm a snob with a big television and a love of fine cheese.

to be continued...

welcome, and thank you for not ridiculing me (yet)

2005-08-25T16:54:00.000-04:00

and so it begins