NEW RULE: health studies cannot be released until they actually say something.
there has been yet another study about the possible effects of caffeine, particularly in coffee, on blood pressure. over the past few years, these studies have flip-flopped more than a blow-hard politician, citing one minute indications that a cup o' joe can have serious averse effects on blood pressure and cardiovascular health, then saying the next minute that it's just not true.
the most recent study was conducted in finland, consisting of approximately 27,000 fins (insert jimmy buffet song here). maybe there's a difference in the coffee the fins drink and what we drink. why is it that none of these "studies" are ever conducted here? saccarine caused cancer at one point, but only in brits because that's where the study was conducted. of course, they forgot to mention in their half-assed study that one would have to chew about 150 packs of saccarine-containing gum per day to actually be at risk at all. and why can't they do studies on things people actually care about? saccarine. really?
science is an inexact science. we get it. but what's with the rush to judgment all the time, scientists? is it really that fun to throw half the world's population into a panic because you have a new hypothesis that you came up with while you were completely cracked out in a whorehouse in munich? what the hell kind of scientists are you anyway that you that you can't even complete the whole scientific process (e.g. stating the problem, hypothesizing, testing the hypothesis and drawing a conclusion) before issuing some sort of report? even my 11th grade chemistry teacher made me do that.
i know, i know, the pharm companies pay a lot of money for you to come up with something for them to create a new drug for. but c'mon, "scientists," think like a businessman for just one second. take a hint from your pharm company bed companions. wouldn't it be better business for you to create the "cure" for whatever ails us before telling us what ails us? we'll all be so relieved to know that the pill you developed for restless leg syndrome will, by pure happenstance, also cure the mysterious cancerous growths we develop in our knee cartilage from wearing the wrong brand of jeans.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
I made a mistake
by now we've all certainly heard the gory details of michael vick's involvement in dogfighting. as a dog owner, i'm beyond disgusted by stories like these, amplified by the fact that he's such a high-profile athlete.
everyone is right in their condemnation and criticisms of him and his cohorts, but now the NAACP has chimed in, stating that vick should be allowed to return to the NFL once he's finished his sentence. maybe, but it's not their call. regardless, as abhorrent as the situation is, my ire has been raised yet another notch because of one little phrase--he made "a mistake."
teammates, friends, and NAACP reps alike have continued to throw every cliche known to man at the scenario. "he made a mistake." "he just got involved with the wrong people." "it's just a bad situation." let's get one thing straight here, the only "mistake" made on anyone's part is believing that vick didn't have complete and utter control over his life and his future, just as we all do.
making an accounting error is a mistake. having a bad car accident can be a mistake (assuming the driver isn't drunk). mispronouncing a name is a mistake. but bankrolling a dogfighting ring and willfully and actively participating in the torture, mutilation, and killing of animals is not a mistake, it's criminal.
it's fine that the NAACP wants to rally support behind someone whom they identify as their own (though i'd be willing to put money down that vick has not sent a dime to them in support), so long as the situation fits within the confines of their mission--advancing the cause of people of color.
the NAACP was among the first to condemn the duke lacrosse players for allegedly raping a black stripper--which was later proven false--and has yet to issue any type of apology. in that situation, they felt (understandably) the need to protect and support an african american in a time of need, as the victim.
vick is no victim. and in this situation, the NAACP has no reason to be involved nor anything to gain. no one was out to get vick because he's rich and black and just wanted to oppress him because of his race. the fact that he's agreed to a plea deal should signify to the world, and particularly the NAACP and others who want to bring race into the equation, that vick is guilty and is a victim only of his own poor judgment and bad decision making. the only "mistake" being made here is by the people and organizations that continue to try and deflect the blame away from vick and place it squarely on the shoulders of a racist country.
everyone is right in their condemnation and criticisms of him and his cohorts, but now the NAACP has chimed in, stating that vick should be allowed to return to the NFL once he's finished his sentence. maybe, but it's not their call. regardless, as abhorrent as the situation is, my ire has been raised yet another notch because of one little phrase--he made "a mistake."
teammates, friends, and NAACP reps alike have continued to throw every cliche known to man at the scenario. "he made a mistake." "he just got involved with the wrong people." "it's just a bad situation." let's get one thing straight here, the only "mistake" made on anyone's part is believing that vick didn't have complete and utter control over his life and his future, just as we all do.
making an accounting error is a mistake. having a bad car accident can be a mistake (assuming the driver isn't drunk). mispronouncing a name is a mistake. but bankrolling a dogfighting ring and willfully and actively participating in the torture, mutilation, and killing of animals is not a mistake, it's criminal.
it's fine that the NAACP wants to rally support behind someone whom they identify as their own (though i'd be willing to put money down that vick has not sent a dime to them in support), so long as the situation fits within the confines of their mission--advancing the cause of people of color.
the NAACP was among the first to condemn the duke lacrosse players for allegedly raping a black stripper--which was later proven false--and has yet to issue any type of apology. in that situation, they felt (understandably) the need to protect and support an african american in a time of need, as the victim.
vick is no victim. and in this situation, the NAACP has no reason to be involved nor anything to gain. no one was out to get vick because he's rich and black and just wanted to oppress him because of his race. the fact that he's agreed to a plea deal should signify to the world, and particularly the NAACP and others who want to bring race into the equation, that vick is guilty and is a victim only of his own poor judgment and bad decision making. the only "mistake" being made here is by the people and organizations that continue to try and deflect the blame away from vick and place it squarely on the shoulders of a racist country.
Monday, August 20, 2007
The Rut
damnit, it's happened again. i tried to keep myself occupied. i tried thinking creatively and "outside the box" (jesus, i hate that term), but it's happened again....i've fallen back into a rut. get up, go to work, come home, eat, go to the gym, shower and sleep. 5 days a week, this is my routine and the 2 off days in between are filled with more of the same--minus the going to work thing.
it's affected my ability to write, seeing as how there is so little going on and even less to get the writing juices flowing. i've become numb to the annoyances of the gym. i go through the motions at the office, occasionally waking from my hypnotic state to eek out a reply when i'm being berated by boss and client alike. the only modicum of stimulus in my life right now is the pennant race, one that will surely end in disappointment and heartbreak. i'm a cub fan after all.
i've lost the passion for my bike, which is a thought so outrageous that it kind of hurts my head to try and figure out how it happened. i climbed a 14er a few weeks back, but haven't had the motivation or desire to do it again, even though i like doing it (well, i hate the suffering part of it, but it's fun to tell your friends who couldn't ever imagine doing it).
i've been relegated to living vicariously through the creativity of others, reading with great frequency the musings of hwood, the curly haired girl and her sidekick roonie. a new soccer season is starting in a few weeks. and with all hopes that my ankle will FINALLY be healed enough to play, hopefully that'll jumpstart the ole life blood.
so, maybe i need another change. no, i'm not moving again (unless i get into thunderbird, at which point i'll have to drag myself down to the arizona desert, where my pale ass may very well burn to an actual crisp). maybe i need a new job (working on that as we speak--one that pays significantly more. fingers crossed.). maybe i need new friends, or to just do something completely out of character and stupid. maybe what i need is a friend like crash davis to punch me in the face and snap me out of it. or maybe what i really need is a simple slump buster.
i'm open to suggestions.
it's affected my ability to write, seeing as how there is so little going on and even less to get the writing juices flowing. i've become numb to the annoyances of the gym. i go through the motions at the office, occasionally waking from my hypnotic state to eek out a reply when i'm being berated by boss and client alike. the only modicum of stimulus in my life right now is the pennant race, one that will surely end in disappointment and heartbreak. i'm a cub fan after all.
i've lost the passion for my bike, which is a thought so outrageous that it kind of hurts my head to try and figure out how it happened. i climbed a 14er a few weeks back, but haven't had the motivation or desire to do it again, even though i like doing it (well, i hate the suffering part of it, but it's fun to tell your friends who couldn't ever imagine doing it).
i've been relegated to living vicariously through the creativity of others, reading with great frequency the musings of hwood, the curly haired girl and her sidekick roonie. a new soccer season is starting in a few weeks. and with all hopes that my ankle will FINALLY be healed enough to play, hopefully that'll jumpstart the ole life blood.
so, maybe i need another change. no, i'm not moving again (unless i get into thunderbird, at which point i'll have to drag myself down to the arizona desert, where my pale ass may very well burn to an actual crisp). maybe i need a new job (working on that as we speak--one that pays significantly more. fingers crossed.). maybe i need new friends, or to just do something completely out of character and stupid. maybe what i need is a friend like crash davis to punch me in the face and snap me out of it. or maybe what i really need is a simple slump buster.
i'm open to suggestions.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Acronym-onious
acronyms are fun. especially the ones of the new generation. out with the old and in with the new such as MILF (and for some, even GILF).
if you're young enough to be reading a blog, you're old enough to know that MILF stands for "mother i'd like to fuck." sure, it's a funny term certainly coined by teenaged or 20-something males. but i'm interested more in what happens after said mission has been accomplished.
i was having a conversation about this with a friend of mine, who most certainly fits the bill for being a MILF (trust me, she's smokin' hot), and it really piqued my interest about the evolution of such creative, yet arbitrary terms.
for instance, what happens if you're lucky enough to bag this MILF? then it's no longer a "mother i'd like..", but now is a "mother i already..." that's just how it has to be, since it would no longer make sense, right? i mean, what if you, at one point, wanted to bed her, then did, but were so disappointed that you'd never consider it again? these are the questions we must ask ourselves as we rewrite the english lexicon. so, will the evolution of the term take on additional forms? i think so. here's a brief list of possibilities. your feedback on MILF and others is welcomed and encouraged:
-MILF (mom i'd like to fuck)
-MIAF (mom i already fucked)
-MIWFA (mom i want to fuck again)
-MIRF (mom i regret fucking)
-MIWNF (mom i would never fuck.....shows differing opinions between your buddy and you)
if you're young enough to be reading a blog, you're old enough to know that MILF stands for "mother i'd like to fuck." sure, it's a funny term certainly coined by teenaged or 20-something males. but i'm interested more in what happens after said mission has been accomplished.
i was having a conversation about this with a friend of mine, who most certainly fits the bill for being a MILF (trust me, she's smokin' hot), and it really piqued my interest about the evolution of such creative, yet arbitrary terms.
for instance, what happens if you're lucky enough to bag this MILF? then it's no longer a "mother i'd like..", but now is a "mother i already..." that's just how it has to be, since it would no longer make sense, right? i mean, what if you, at one point, wanted to bed her, then did, but were so disappointed that you'd never consider it again? these are the questions we must ask ourselves as we rewrite the english lexicon. so, will the evolution of the term take on additional forms? i think so. here's a brief list of possibilities. your feedback on MILF and others is welcomed and encouraged:
-MILF (mom i'd like to fuck)
-MIAF (mom i already fucked)
-MIWFA (mom i want to fuck again)
-MIRF (mom i regret fucking)
-MIWNF (mom i would never fuck.....shows differing opinions between your buddy and you)
Friday, August 10, 2007
Fuel Deficient
while i'm on my music kick.....
i caught a performance by fuel on leno this evening and there are few ways to describe how awful it was. fuel was one of my favorite bands of the '90s ever since they burst onto the scene with sunburn, which featured the song "shimmer." they followed up in 2000 with something like human (highlighted by "hemorrhage") and 2003's natural selection, headlined by "falls on me." yeah, they were a mainstream, trendy band but i liked them anyway. scratch that--i liked brett scallions, who was the voice and the face of the band. he was pretty much awesome by all accounts. unfortunately, he split in 2004 and the band should have just ceased to exist right then and there.
but in true rock star arrogance, the band just had to keep the name and simply replace the lead vocalist. this is something i've never quite understood. as a fan, a band to me consists solely of the individuals that make it up at the height of its success. i never really cared if they replaced a drummer or a bassist since the most important of the bunch is the lead singer because, well, he's the lead fucking singer!
after an exhaustive search (which included some dude from american karaoke who has his own band now), the remaining boys of fuel selected toryn green, a local sack of crap who physically resembles a mix between the tool from fall out boy--the really pretty one with brown hair pushed aside emo style--and the asian guy from hoobastank. not that looks really matter when making records, the sound does. this, too, is unfortunate because green sounds like a dj compilation of a dying cat and a tone deaf retarded kid. they should have known from the moment they selected green that they'd never regain the magic they'd found with brett.
perhaps i'm just bitter that a band i really liked at one point just didn't know when to stop. or that they wouldn't rename the band once they got a new lead "singer," and therefore actually recognizing that they became a different band. regardless of my hostile feelings, an objective observation of fuel redux will show that they now are nothing more than a garbage garage band, an utter disappointment to fans of 90s rock.
PS. oh well, RAGE is back!!!!!!!
i caught a performance by fuel on leno this evening and there are few ways to describe how awful it was. fuel was one of my favorite bands of the '90s ever since they burst onto the scene with sunburn, which featured the song "shimmer." they followed up in 2000 with something like human (highlighted by "hemorrhage") and 2003's natural selection, headlined by "falls on me." yeah, they were a mainstream, trendy band but i liked them anyway. scratch that--i liked brett scallions, who was the voice and the face of the band. he was pretty much awesome by all accounts. unfortunately, he split in 2004 and the band should have just ceased to exist right then and there.
but in true rock star arrogance, the band just had to keep the name and simply replace the lead vocalist. this is something i've never quite understood. as a fan, a band to me consists solely of the individuals that make it up at the height of its success. i never really cared if they replaced a drummer or a bassist since the most important of the bunch is the lead singer because, well, he's the lead fucking singer!
after an exhaustive search (which included some dude from american karaoke who has his own band now), the remaining boys of fuel selected toryn green, a local sack of crap who physically resembles a mix between the tool from fall out boy--the really pretty one with brown hair pushed aside emo style--and the asian guy from hoobastank. not that looks really matter when making records, the sound does. this, too, is unfortunate because green sounds like a dj compilation of a dying cat and a tone deaf retarded kid. they should have known from the moment they selected green that they'd never regain the magic they'd found with brett.
perhaps i'm just bitter that a band i really liked at one point just didn't know when to stop. or that they wouldn't rename the band once they got a new lead "singer," and therefore actually recognizing that they became a different band. regardless of my hostile feelings, an objective observation of fuel redux will show that they now are nothing more than a garbage garage band, an utter disappointment to fans of 90s rock.
PS. oh well, RAGE is back!!!!!!!
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Hard rock with a soft touch
last week i picked up a couple of albums (cds, records or whatever the hipsters call them these days) that i've been dying to find. flyleaf and the twilight singers are on complete opposite ends of the musical spectrum, but are satisfying each in their own ways.
flyleaf, whom you may have heard of on account of their recent single "all around me" is a hard-rocking group from good ole texas. it's a bunch of dudes and a chick lead singer whose vocal range runs the gamut from mariah carey-like falsetto to mere alto, a la kay hanley of letters to cleo, while still maintaining the arrogance and attitude of someone like the donnas--but with more talent.
the disc collectively sounds like a femmed up version of the newer linkin park efforts, alternating between head banging, vocal chord straining cries of emotional anguish and softer, nearly ballad-like songs of devotion and love. there are many interesting guitar riffs sprinkled in that remind me of a mixture of elastica and audioslave. weird combination, i know. but pretty damn sweet nevertheless.
twilight singers is the relatively new brainchild of greg dulli, former lead of the afghan whigs (one of my all time favorite cincinnati bands) and his good friend, mark lanegan, formerly of the screaming trees. there's nothing hard-rocking about this EP effort. the 5 songs are classic raw, emotional rock found in the (formerly) smokey clubs in the seedy part of town. i won't hold it against dulli that he's the single biggest asshole i've ever personally met. but his trademark off-key and mildly tone deaf vocals are the perfect complement to the smooth, southern inspired beats.
while the afghan whigs drew merely a small following and little critical acclaim, dulli's partnerships with lanegan, ani defranco, and joseph arthur have been rewarded with prominent placements in shows like FX's uberhit "rescue me." watching the show last week is actually what prompted me to pick up "stitches in time," as TS lent their efforts to the dramatic, fire-filled opening scene of last week's show. the lure would prove too much was the ideal song for the scene. i'd have recognized dulli's music anywhere, and i'm glad i did because these are 5 of the best mellow, classic rock songs you'll find.
flyleaf, whom you may have heard of on account of their recent single "all around me" is a hard-rocking group from good ole texas. it's a bunch of dudes and a chick lead singer whose vocal range runs the gamut from mariah carey-like falsetto to mere alto, a la kay hanley of letters to cleo, while still maintaining the arrogance and attitude of someone like the donnas--but with more talent.
the disc collectively sounds like a femmed up version of the newer linkin park efforts, alternating between head banging, vocal chord straining cries of emotional anguish and softer, nearly ballad-like songs of devotion and love. there are many interesting guitar riffs sprinkled in that remind me of a mixture of elastica and audioslave. weird combination, i know. but pretty damn sweet nevertheless.
twilight singers is the relatively new brainchild of greg dulli, former lead of the afghan whigs (one of my all time favorite cincinnati bands) and his good friend, mark lanegan, formerly of the screaming trees. there's nothing hard-rocking about this EP effort. the 5 songs are classic raw, emotional rock found in the (formerly) smokey clubs in the seedy part of town. i won't hold it against dulli that he's the single biggest asshole i've ever personally met. but his trademark off-key and mildly tone deaf vocals are the perfect complement to the smooth, southern inspired beats.
while the afghan whigs drew merely a small following and little critical acclaim, dulli's partnerships with lanegan, ani defranco, and joseph arthur have been rewarded with prominent placements in shows like FX's uberhit "rescue me." watching the show last week is actually what prompted me to pick up "stitches in time," as TS lent their efforts to the dramatic, fire-filled opening scene of last week's show. the lure would prove too much was the ideal song for the scene. i'd have recognized dulli's music anywhere, and i'm glad i did because these are 5 of the best mellow, classic rock songs you'll find.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Bourne Again
Bourne Ultimatum reviewed...in 100 words or less
Fucking. Awesome. Better than “Supremacy,” equal to “Identity.” Finally, something worth admission prices.
Damon phenomenal. Stone cold, stoic, determined, struggling to find humanity while facing most highly trained killers yet. Always 3 steps ahead. Super-creative weaponry. Best. Role. Ever.
Word count: 99
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Lil thangs poppin'
it could only happen in arkansas. ok, maybe in utah too, but they get extra help there.
an arkansas family--monogamous man and wife, mind you--just welcomed into the world their 17th child. that's right, 17. so, their nuclear family of 19 outnumbers my entire extended family....on both sides!
the number 17 is quite impressive, if not disgusting (even my friend nikki, who found this story, brought up how "worn out" this lady must be. gross), but there are other numbers, too, that are just as impressive, if not astonishing.
numbers like 90,000. as in, over 90,000 diapers used while rearing these children. or 10.5, which is the length--in YEARS--this woman has been pregnant during her lifetime. 10 and a half years of one's life carrying around another mini life. that's longer than many careers. "So, Ms., what do you do for a living?" "I'm pregnant."
it should come as no surprise that someone in the family is actually named jim bob (not like kyle bob. this is a given name.), which happens to be the poppa. really the only surprise here is that there's absolutely no mention of a trailer park.
an arkansas family--monogamous man and wife, mind you--just welcomed into the world their 17th child. that's right, 17. so, their nuclear family of 19 outnumbers my entire extended family....on both sides!
the number 17 is quite impressive, if not disgusting (even my friend nikki, who found this story, brought up how "worn out" this lady must be. gross), but there are other numbers, too, that are just as impressive, if not astonishing.
numbers like 90,000. as in, over 90,000 diapers used while rearing these children. or 10.5, which is the length--in YEARS--this woman has been pregnant during her lifetime. 10 and a half years of one's life carrying around another mini life. that's longer than many careers. "So, Ms., what do you do for a living?" "I'm pregnant."
it should come as no surprise that someone in the family is actually named jim bob (not like kyle bob. this is a given name.), which happens to be the poppa. really the only surprise here is that there's absolutely no mention of a trailer park.
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