02 August 2005

I'd Like to Teach The World To Chill, Yo...

I just had to have that picture on my blog. Forgive me.

Anyway, Erin and I went to see The Aristocrats at Union Sq (the 740 show- Erin can't make it awake through a 10 PM start, unfortunately). Pretty simply put, it's a documentary about comedy- the craft, the put-together, the fraternity, the odd shorthand comedians work in. A lot is made about the obscenity of the movie- and it most certainly is that- but the more interesting and, I think, integral part of the movie was the weird, cockeyed analysis they seemed to absolutely revel in delivering.

It was repetitive- at ~85 minutes, it was a little long, and hearing the same joke over and over and over again is tough, though that is something of the genius of the joke- it hasn't got any limits. It has this goofy beginning, a paper-thin punch line, and a middle filled with piss, shit, come, fucking, blood, incest, beastiality, cocks and cunts. A lot is made too of the 'shocking' nature of much of the joke's retellings; but the inevitable expectations you carry in as a result sort of blunt that edge. Even still- it has it's moments, though they're never offensive. Watching, for instance, Andy Richter and Doug Stanhope tell the joke to their infant kids is pretty insanely sick, and funny.

There are a ton of people in the movie- I enjoyed Steven Wright, Taylor Negron, Gilbert Gottfried (one of the most underrated comedians ever), Andy Dick, Martin Mull, and Sarah Silverman's takes the best. Yo- check it out.

And on the chance you're reading this Bill- I cannot impress upon you how much this movie was made for you. Seriously. It was sprung fully formed from Filthy Bill's brain.

I was going to write my own version of the joke- actually, I did- but I decided it takes the fun out of it not to "perform" it, so I'm going to skip my version- but here's a basic, barebones version:

So a guy walks into a talent agency and says, "Listen, I got an act for you that I want you to produce." The talent agent nods, tells the man to show him what he's got.

So out comes the man's wife, son, daughter and dog. The entire clan manages to strip down in unison, shit in a pile in the middle of the room, roll around in it while fucking and sucking each other off, and finishing the display by vomiting on the audience. As he the act winds down, the man looks to the agent with expectation.

The agent is at a loss for words, and finally offers up a question- "Wow. Uh... what do you call this act, son?"

The man winks, spins, and jazz hands out before belting the title...

"THE ARISTOCRATS!"







This past weekend, on my birthday, my absolute favorite player growing up- Wade Boggs- was enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Boggs became my favorite player in 1988 as he battled out- yet again- Kirby Puckett for the batting title. For some reason, a batting title was something much more concrete to me than wins and losses- something I could follow every day more closely than the vast and ever fluid MLB (and AL) universe. He obviously won the batting title in 88- his 5th and last- and he'd be my favorite from then on... until he became a Yankee, at which point I just stopped paying attention to him.


Wade Boggs could fucking hit, period. He had six seasons in which he reached base more than 300 times. In 1988, with 125 BBs, he had a .476 OBP. He has a CAREER .415 OBP. He had nine straight seasons with an OPS+ of 120 or higher. He had 200+ for seven straight seasons, a major league record- nine straight seasons with 180+ hits. He had a RC/27 over 6 for ten straight seasons, 12 in all. His season high for strikeouts was 68, in 1990, and averaged 49 a season. Most amazingly, for a 162 game span from June 10, 1985 to June 6, 1985- Wade Boggs hit .400. Well, he actually hit .4003, to be exact. Absolutely loved chicken, Margo Adams, invisibility, gator boots, locks on car doors, and hair care products.

I had a stack of Boggs baseball cards that I kept in a pile in my room with a rubber band around it (that helps retain the future value, see). I preferred Wade with the full beard, and not just the moustache. I'm not kidding either, I actually thought that. I think I had close to 15-16 of his cards- Topps, Donruss, Upper Deck, even a Kelloggs card from a cereal box that had no Sox logos on it due to copyright issues.

PLUS, my grandma bought me his rookie card- which I still had- and I was elated that I had a card nice enough to warrant one of those hard-plastic-with-screws card holders.

Good for Wade, with a real nice acceptance speech (unlike Sandberg's asshole moment). Here's to retiring his number at Fenway.






So if you haven't heard, Rafael Palmeiro has tested positive for steroids and suspended for 10 days. I really got nothing here, except to say that the breadth of stupidity involved here on Palmeiro's part is really staggering. After appearing before Congress waving an indignant finger, after the hot lights of scrutiny leading to stepped up testing... he still can't stop, and he still gets caught. To me, that makes Palmeiro either

a) an addict
b) a lunatic

Whichever fits, it's too bad- I was enjoying the ridiculous columns from half wits like Skip Bayless telling me that, despite his nearly 600 HRs and 3000 hits, Palmeiro "wasn't a Hall of Famer," because he just wasn't a big star, you know? Now they have a foothold on the argument, though it will be nearly impossible, all this said, to keep him out.

In fact, some are speculating that, perhaps, the positive test has been in-hand for weeks now, and that it was allowed to be hidden whilst Palmeiro drove towards his 3,000 hit plateau, and Wade Boggs, Ryne Sandberg and Peter Gammons were allowed their own time in the sun.

In an article for the San Francisco Chronicle, John Shea has some damning info as well:

While the six other players testing positive were quickly suspended, Palmeiro's appeal process was prolonged. He was notified of his positive test two to three months ago, The Chronicle has learned, and played during the entire appeal process.

Furthermore, Palmeiro knew he had tested positive when he joined an anti-steroid discussion group on July 7 hosted by Rep. Tom Davis, R-Va., who believed enough in Palmeiro to include him, along with high school sports officials, anti-drug campaigners and representatives of pro and college sports leagues.


Another interesting aspect of the story is his press release, in which he claims never having done steroids "knowingly or intentionally." Additionally, he claims unable to comment specifically on the charges, citing confidentiality clauses per the new CBA. Of course, this is a total crock of shit, as pointed out by Thomas Boswell in the Washington Post:

According to one industry source, the steroid in Palmeiro's system was a "serious" one. That would seem a forgone conclusion. Would baseball take action against so famous a player unless the facts were damning enough that nobody could contradict their seriousness?
...
Whose "confidentiality" is being protected? Palmeiro's, of course. If he wanted to explain more, who could stop him from defending his good name? The union and baseball have a confidentiality agreement that prevents them from releasing information. But that doesn't put masking tape over the player's mouth. If Palmeiro had a compelling story, who could force him to stay silent?


The claim in the first part of the above quote as well is confirmed in a story to be released by The New York Times tomorrow:

The positive drug test that has left Rafael Palmeiro's legacy in doubt involved the potent anabolic steroid stanozolol, a person in baseball with direct knowledge of the sport's drug-testing program said yesterday. Stanozolol, known by its brand name, Winstrol, was most notably linked to the Olympic sprinter Ben Johnson of Canada, who was stripped of a gold medal in 1988 after testing positive for that steroid.
...
Palmeiro said Monday that he had never intentionally taken steroids, but stanozolol does not come in dietary supplements and is among the most popular steroids on the market. It can be ingested or injected and usually remains in a person's system for at least a month.


Pretty damning stuff. Of course, what'd the Commander in Chief have to say about it?

"Rafael Palmeiro is a friend. He testified in public and I believe him," Bush said in an interview with the Knight Ridder news service. "He's the kind of person that's going to stand up in front of the klieg lights and say he didn't use steroids, and I believe him. Still do."


Remember all that horseshit in his State of the Union about getting "tough in steroids"? Like a lot of what he says, it was just a bunch of pandering bullshit.





Nevermind that it tastes like absolute shit- that was a given- but have you seen that commercial for Coke Zero? The one with all the Generation Y-ers on top of a tenement building re-creating that famous "I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke" commercial from the 70s?

Well now, this one has hip modern kids in cool urban clothes and doing things do, man. Palling around rooftops, playing the guitar, engaging in some sweet slang-talking, wearing cool clothes... and DRINKING DIET SODA!

The worst part of the commercial though, unfortunately, is the reworking of the song with the fucking granola eating homo singing "I'd like to teach the world to CHILL..." Cos that's what dudes our age say, man. It's a 'with-it' commercial. And then his buddies start singing along, and (of course) the black one adds a little flava by doing a little rap/ beatbox/ safe corporate version of popular youth culture music of the moment. Ah-wiki-wiki-wiki!

The website is precious too. Full of retarded little sayings meant to relate to the youth of America, genuine things like
You're mind is your crib... chill
and
Chilltop (instead of 'hilltop')
and
Chilosophy
and
Protect Your Chill

Hey, at least they did their research, and it's authentic raping of youth culture, right? Instead of inauthentic. Because I can't stop saying "chill" myself, it's in my generations like, DNA and stuff. Where's my acoustic guitar?




Essackly.

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