Let's Talk about Me.

NBC is showing the Miami Vice TV pilot, and there's no experience quite like watching Phillip Michael Thomas as Tubbs lip-synching to "Somebody's Watching Me." Not only that, but I still knew all the words to the stupid song. It was too overwhelming with the Rockwell memories flooding back and all, so I decided to come here in the quiet computer lab and post a little story about me:

We signed the lease on our new swanky apartment in Valley Ranch today. It's still amazing, but as I went out on the patio and looked down on the Asians, Indians, and Honkeys passing by, I forgot that there was a hanging lamp in the middle of the room behind me. That room happens to be the dining room, so normally there would be a table there. We just moved in, so of course it was as empty as Tara Reid's head. Also, the lamp itself is a translucent white etched glass upside-down bowl, which blended in nicely with the neutral wall behind it. Do y'all see where this is going? I turned around, closed the patio door behind me, did not see the lamp in the middle of the room, and WHACK! There was suddenly a huge gash in my nose, right above the knot. I stumbled into the next room, unsure of what to do since I was stunned by the force of the blow and the huge dent in the front of my face. Luckily, my wife had a tampon in her purse. Otherwise I guess I (or probably she) would have had to run down to the apartment complex's bathroom to get something to catch the blood. Thank God for tampons, right now. Do it!

**The Miami Vice Theme can be heard in the background as I type this. Miami Vice has such a cool soundtrack. **

I applied the feminine product to the affected area, feeling a throbbing but fading pain and checking the tube-like thing to see if the blood was still flowing. It always was. Finally, things clotted and we went out for pizza. Pizza's great. I have a band-aid on my nose right now, and I look vaguely like Chuck Cecil (the guy in the picture above).

The moral of the story? Same as the moral of Miami Vice: The world is a dangerous place, but there's no problem that can't be solved by rolling up the sleeves on your pastel jacket or unbuttoning your shirt. Oh, and you belong to the city, whatever that means.

** Crockett and Tubbs are now vehemently insisting to anyone who will listen that there's no way they can work together on this case. Methinks they doth protest too much.**

Obvs.

It's the new "obviously." Because 4 syllables is way to much for one word.

You d-bags out there can start using "obvs" now.

BTW, You, dear reader, should be aware that Yahoo is now trying to be all things to all people. They have buzz.yahoo.com, a place where people with names like "Molly McCall" and "Gordon Hurd" give out yahoo-link-intensive info on whatever Yahoo thinks is important that day. For example, today there are posts on Comic Cons and a chart comparing and contrasting M. Night Shamalayan and Kevin "Clerks" Smith. Why is Yahoo doing this? To be your one-stop-shop for all information everywhere. They realize Google is the search king, so they want to be the "buzz" king, whatever that is. As always, they will fail.

Also on Yahoo is something called "The 9." It's like a real-live internet TV show (why aren't there more of those in this day and age?) hosted by a hot girl with big teeth. Seriously, you can't stop looking at them -- the teeth, I mean. She's like Rosanna Arquette II: The Tooth-ening. Anyway, she perkily does the same thing that VH1 does with "Web Junk 20," only she's on every day, and she only points out 9 web things. Also, "Web Junk 20" pointed out most of the good stuff 3 months ago. However, I think I love her. Check out her profile and see the secret word, which also was the impetus for this post, obvs.

Her profile is on Yahoo 360, which is a poorly-thought-out combination of myspace and blogger. See? They're trying to be all things to all people. Thankfully, Yahoo 360 will also fail.

Other adverbs soon to be truncated in an effort to sound cool:

Totally = "tot" (pronounced with long "o," like "tote")
Hopefully = "hopf"
Terribly = "trb"

Our children will one day speak in a very lazy code.

It's Clobberin' Time!

So, people are always asking me how I feel about the TJ Ford-for-Charlie Villanueva trade, since I'm the only Bucks fan on the whole internet now that bucksview.blogspot.com has started talking about loans for people who don't pay their bills. The next paragraph summarizes my thoughts on the trade:

Thank you, God, for making this trade happen.

Sure, TJ Ford is a nice story, a dwarf coming back from near-decapitation and all. We all wish him all kind of well. But he's a tiny fragile point guard who can't shoot but feels like he has to monopolize the ball even though it grinds the offense to an annoying halt. Bucks coach Terry "Why am I still here?" Stotts kept leaving him in the game during the fourth quarter, only to be betrayed by the overdribbling midget that only he couldn't see. With this trade, the Bucks got to keep their two better point guards and get a young power forward to boot. A young power forward with range and length who potentially has 3 years left on his crappy rookie deal. Not only that, but also he looks like the Thing (see above). Now all the Bucks need to do is sign a really stretchy guy, a guy who can burst into flames, and a really hot blonde, and they can start the Fantastic Four. They wouldn't even need a fifth starter -- though Michael Redd would probably warrant some playing time off the bench.

But I think I've lost my point here. I was talking about TJ Ford and how he sucks, even though we love him. See, it's easy to fall in love with TJ's speed and think, "He's a real weapon even if he can't shoot or defend or run the offense. Let's put 'im in there and see what happens!" And then what happens is underachievement and heartbreak. At best, he could become a nice "change of pace" backup point guard like Spud Webb or Darrell Armstrong (the younger years). At worst, his head flies clean off the next time a thug like Mark Madsen gets his blood-red hands on him. He's never going to be anything but an overdribbler, no matter who coaches him. It is his way. I mean, the guy had a whole year off to work on his game with a personal coach, and somehow he came back worse. I can't believe Toronto traded for him. Did they not pay for a scouting department last year? Did they hire the old Clippers scouting department from the 80's? Did they just drink too much Labatt's Blue? The mind boggles.

The player the Bucks got for TJ certainly seems like a together dude. He has his own cool website, where I'm sure he spends his time dissing Doctor Doom's face and challenging the Hulk to a rematch. He has his own set of basketball-related problems (woefully inconsistent, shoots from the outside too much, doesn't defend terribly well), but he's a foot taller and did I mention he's a POWER FORWARD WITH RANGE WHO REBOUNDS WELL AND HAS A TON OF POTENTIAL. For the life of me, I can't understand why Toronto would make this trade. But don't take my word for it -- listen to the newly-crowned Leader of the 18-45-year-old male USA sports fan, The Sports Guy:

I just wanted to comment on the Villanueva-T.J. Ford trade. Disregard Ford's scary spinal cord problems, that he can't shoot to save his life, that he's a free agent two years earlier than Villanueva, even that he lost crunch-time minutes to Charlie Bell last season. Again, I want you to disregard everything in that sentence. From a pure basketball standpoint, since when is a young point guard worth as much as a young power forward who can rebound and shoot 3s? When has that EVER been the case? How fast did the Bucks' front office say yes to this trade? 0.79 seconds? 1.2 seconds? Did they say, "Hold on, we'll discuss this and call you back in a few hours," then hang up and start pouring champagne on one another? If somebody made this deal in my fantasy league, I would have protested it.

Then, later in the same column (as he discusses Michael Redd) he writes:

Did I mention that I can't get over that trade? I'm in an American League-only fantasy league in which the second-place team traded Single-A prospect Cameron Maybin to the 10th-place team for Justin Morneau last month, and that set off three weeks of vicious message board posts, angry phone calls and the resignation of our longtime commissioner, since he was the one who ended up with Morneau. And this was a FANTASY league. The Villanueva-Ford trade was the real-life equivalent -- so were there angry e-mails and phone calls between the GMs in the Central Division when they found out? Like, did Joe Dumars immediately flip out and leave nasty messages on Bryan Colangelo's machine? Or does this only happen in fantasy leagues when the owners don't have lives?

Our Leader has written, and I, the only Bucks fan still alive on the internet, like what he's writing.

P.S. -- Leader, sorry about the copying-and-pasting rather than linking. Wait -- no, I'm not.

What was I thinking?

A whole day's worth of Aeon Flux, cabbage death dish, and killing computer bits has slapped my brain around to the point where I talked about Pink Floyd but failed to acknowledge the passing of Syd Barrett. What was I thinking? He was the catalyst for the greatest rock band ever, and he died last week.

Wish he was here?

I need this

Link

They've finally released Pulse on DVD, effectively keeping Pink Floyd in the news and making money. It's the material on the Pulse VHS tapes plus (of course) extras. I don't want to seem materialistic or shallow, but if I don't acquire this somehow by the end of this year, my life will have been an utter failure.

In other weird news, I watched the entire 10-episode run of Aeon Flux last night from like 11pm-3am. Man, they messed up that movie. I know I may have kinda liked the movie as a movie when I saw it, but time has shown me how completely they dropped the ball. I liked how they ripped some things straight from the animated episodes, but couldn't figure out that Trevor was supposed to be good. Also, and I know I keep bringing this up, but whither the giant baby? That was the best episode of them all.

"I don't even know your name."
"I am before names."
"Good for you."

And then she becomes a soccer mom at the end. Genius.