Points in Case - The Fine Print of College Life

Fuck You Bill Simmons

Xavier Holland — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 16:03:08 -0500

I apologize for the title. I was going to be a little more honest about how I felt, but, "Fuck You Bill Simmons and our Masturbatory, Overrated Screeds about How Much Smarter You are than Everyone Else" didn't fit in the little title box as neatly as I would have liked. C'est la vie.

Now I don't have the literary chops of Ken Tremendous. I barely have the literary chops of Mose Schrute. But some things are so infuriating that you have to rip them apart. And today's submission comes from Bill "Lil' Willy" Simmons and is about his beloved Patriots, who, if you don't know, play a sport known to Americans as "football", to foreigners as "American football" and to Paul Frank as "pornography."

Let's go.

"After my beloved Patriots threw away Sunday's Colts game with one unnecessarily dangerous decision, my educated opinion was this: "That's the second dumbest thing I have ever seen any Boston team do."

That's your educated opinion? I think the thing that annoys me most about this article isn't Simmons' whining -- it's his trademark! -- it's that rather than just admit he's sad his team lost, he makes it about how smart he is. Keep in mind that Simmons isn't a football player. He's not a football coach. Hell, he's not even a football analyst. He's just a guy who likes sports and who treats MTV reality shows like a significant other.

Huh? Kevin Faulk hauled in a pass on the 30.3-yard line. It was spotted at the 29.

First of all, the pass was spotted at the 28. Secondly, it's hilarious that he's such a biased homer (excuse me, educated football connosieur) that even when he's whining about how smart he is, he has to make a point of how his team got screwed over. Bill's like that guy who whines all night about how a girl won't

These are the things that happen when you double on a 12 against a six because you believe -- fervently -- that a slew of non-face cards are coming.

In case you didn't realize, Bill is a blackjack expert. He deftly plays the odds at every conceivable juncture and knows that believing in "luck" or "magic" can be fun at the card table, but is ultimately a recipe for losing money. I mean, it's clear from his own words, from a different column (he talks about blackjack a lot):

For instance, this year we started comparing blackjack dealers to baseball pitchers. Have you ever noticed how the pit boss will always send over his most unfriendly, non-American dealer whenever the entire table is winning? It's uncanny. Anyway, within a few hours on Friday, we started calling this dealer the "closer"; by Sunday, it had evolved to the point that we would win a few hands in a row and start making jokes of the "Uh-oh, the pit boss just started warming up Mariano Rivera in the Asian Gaming Room" variety.

It's statistical science: your gut premonition has no effect on the cards. The only things that have an effect on the cards are whether your dealer is smiling and American.

Imagine that -- a white guy from Boston afraid to engage with a non-American.

See, I never expected that fourth-and-2 call to turn into a lively sports debate. And I certainly never expected statistics to back up what seemed to be an unforgivable decision.

How could I, Bill Simmons, possibly be wrong? I'm so brilliant! What could these numbers do that I possibly couldn't while watching the game from my Man Cave and slurping on a Michelob Ultra?

Combine all these variables and what do we have? According to a formula called "Expected Win Probability When Going For It," Pattani believed that the Patriots had an 80.5 chance of winning the game. By punting, they had a 79.0 chance of winning. So my argument (made on Monday's podcast) that Bill Belichick should have "played the percentages and punted" was technically wrong. Barely. Belichick did play the percentages if you took those percentages at face value.

I like how blatant this is. I know I said "play the percentages" and "try to win", but really what I meant is "agree with me." Clearly, the percentages are what's wrong. Can't you just imagine Bill arguing with his professors at Holy Cross?

Sure, I got a 79 on this test, which is in the C range. I mean, if you take my grade at FACE VALUE. But instead, you should be playing the real percentages. It's like blackjack, and that scene in Karate Kid.

He played the percentages! It wasn't as crazy as it looked! By this logic, Belichick also should have held a loaded pistol to his head on the sideline, spun the chamber and tried to shoot himself like Chris Walken in "The Deer Hunter." If those 1-in-6 odds came through and he succeeded, we could have said, "Hey, he played the percentages: 83.6666 percent of the time, you don't die in that situation! You can't blame him for what happened!"

First of all, you YOURSELF said he should have played the percentages. What a fucking annoying tactic; screaming, "LOOK AT THE NUMBERS!" until somebody does and proves you wrong.

Secondly, the award for "least appropriate analogy" goes to...well, it looks like it went to a Karen Holmes in Deluth who said during an important work meeting that her schedule was wider open than the dude's asshole she was pounding with a strap-on last night."

Not going to lie, I was kind of hoping it would be Simmons, so I'm gonna criticize it anyway.

First of all, losing a football game isn't dying. Second of all, you've failed to specify what Belicheck would be gaining from spinning the wheel. Finally, football games have binary outcomes; either you win or you lose. It's not like Belicheck could do NEITHER. A more appropriate analogy (and a telling one) would be: You have the choice of playing Russian Roulette or picking a number from between 1 and 5 and having me shoot you in the face if you guess correctly. Losing in either case is terrible and unlikely, but you want to MAXIMIZE YOUR CHANCES OF WINNING. Which is the whole point of a football coach.

But to argue, insinuate or even blink that Tim Thomas is underrated -- by any metric -- cannot be allowed.

Bill then goes on to argue a.) that Tim Thomas is useless and that b.) any system that calls him underrated is crazy. Not only does he fail to establish a baseline for what Tim's rating is, he supports the exact point he's trying to refute. It's like being on trial for public indecency, being on the stand and yelling, "what did I do? Show strangers this???" and flopping your penis out. Not that I would know.

The "Belichick made the right move" argument was nearly as dense. In the biggest game of the regular season, when a football coach tries something that -- and this is coming from someone who watches 12 hours of football every Sunday dating back to elementary school -- I cannot remember another team doing on the road in the last three minutes of a close game, that's not "gutsy." It's not a "gamble." It's not "believing we can get that two yards." It's not "revolutionary." It's not "statistically smart." It's reckless.

Whether other coaches have done it has no bearing on whether it's the right thing to do. If Bill had his way, there wouldn't be forward passes or black players in baseball. The second one isn't really about coaching desicions, I guess, Bill just hates black people. Since elementary school.

I like that every single thing Bill says it's "not" is exactly what it is. If trying to help your team win despite convential wisdom and a very easy to defend alternative isn't a "gamble" Bill doesn't know very much about gambling.

Wait, that CAN'T be true.

After all, this was essentially a two-point pass play. The Patriots went five wide, stuck Tom Brady in the shotgun, shortened the field and tried to find a quick-hit mismatch. Sure sounds like a two-point play.

In a 2 point pass play, the defense has to defend 12 yards of field. In this case, they had to defend 80.

Sure sounds like you have no fucking idea what you're talking about.

by settling for a quick bam-bam pass, they also increased their own odds for a deflection, drop or bad spot. Statistically, it was a dumb choice. Their biggest assets on a fourth-and-2 were the field, the threat of Randy Moss going deep, the threat of a draw or a delayed screen, and the threat of a run. They ignored all four things. You cannot tell me the odds for success here were 55.7 percent for that specific formation at that specific moment in time. You cannot. Just stop.

Please, Willy, get your whining straight. Are you complaining about the decision to go for it or the play that they ran? Where are your numbers coming from? Have you noticed that everybody defending Belicheck has offered statistical proof, and that your argument, is, essentially, "nah, nah, I'm right?"

AND you think the Patriots got in and were victimized by a bad spot. So clearly in your mind the play worked as it should have. So which is it: did Bill make the wrong choice in going for it or in choosing a play? Or is it the refs fault?

OR IS EVERYTHING AGAINST YOU??

I know it's fun to think stats can settle everything, but they can't, and they don't.

Very few people think that stats can settle everything, and even fewer would describe that process as "fun". In this case, people are simply saying that Belicheck's decision was defensible, at least, and not "dumb."

And not the "second dumbest decision in Boston sports history." Do you realize how histroinic that sounds when the numbers you thought would back you up actually vindicate the decision?

Put it this way: The Colts weren't exactly on fire. Admittedly, I am terrified of Manning and have written as much. But Indy had already started and completed two long touchdown drives in the fourth quarter against a good defense.

This is basically what's he's saying:

Put it this way. The Colts offense wasn't playing well. Manning is a very good quarterback. The Colts offense was been playing well.

I asked Peter Newmann to research the number of times a team started and completed three touchdown drives in the fourth quarter to erase a double-digit deficit and win an NFL game since 2005. Here's how the list looked before that fourth-and-2 call.

2005: 1
2006: 2
2007: 0
2008: 1
2009: 0

In 78 weeks of football dating back to 2005, it happened a whopping four times. Four! If you're playing the statistics card, why not play that one? By punting, the Patriots would have been asking Peyton Manning to pull off something THAT DOESN'T HAPPEN EVEN ONCE EVERY EFFING SEASON. You're damned right I just went all caps. Hold on, I have to repeatedly bang my head against my desk again.

I wonder if Simmons is actually this stupid or if he's pandering to his readers. Just in case he actually doesn't understand how statistics work allow me to enlighten him:

The fact that the Colts had been down double-digits is only slightly material, and even then in an unquantifiable sense. You can't prove that the Colts were LESS LIKELY to score because they'd already done it TWICE BEFORE (I had to go all caps). Furthermore, the research you admit to having someone else do (it's not like this is your job!) is immaterial; the Colts aren't a team trying to score 3 times down double-digits. They're a team that's already scored twice that needs another touchdown. Run THOSE numbers, and let me know what you get.

Or don't, because it's a frighteningly small sample size that means NOTHING.

Isn't the impact much deeper than that of simply losing because Peyton Manning is great and he drove 70 yards to beat them? In the playoffs, when it's life or death, maybe that risk is more defensible.

This would normally just be stupid, but it's borderline crazy in light of his earlier analogy.

Look, this isn't life or death. It's just Russian Roulette.

After the kick return and TV timeout, had Belichick told his team, "..."

In case you didn't know, Bill Simmons was on the sidelines. He knows exactly what Belicheck said.Just don't tell me this Sunday night didn't mean ... something. In the aforementioned Game 6, I remember watching those Yankees fans celebrating after the seventh and thinking, "There is absolutely nobody in my sports fan life that makes me feel as secure as those Yankee fans feel with Rivera right now."

I used to feel that way about the Patriots. I did. And now we're here.

Whiny Willy, don't worry about it. This was a road game in the middle of the regular season against one of the best quarterbacks of all time. Now, if this was say the Superbowl, and your defense ruined your chance at a perfect season by failing to stop an inexperienced young quarterback, well, then, you might lose a little faith.

Kiss a Little Longer: A Hair's Tale

Casey Freeman — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 13:27:54 -0500

So, in honor of the most venerable PIC Hair Week (which apparently lasts two weeks)—I thought I'd take a break from writing about my own hair and write about somebody else's.

You see young lads and lassies, way back when I was a college-aged buck, there was such a thing as females with pubic hair. Revolting, I know. But it's a fact. We also thought Limp Bizkit was cool.

(In my college days, we seriously thought this guy was cool. I know, we were stupid.)

In my early twenties, I sported some interesting trademarks. I'd wear polo shirts with ties, I chewed Big Red gum all the time (especially while swimming) and covered my scalp with the same Stanford cap every day—even though I've never set foot near Stanford.

For whatever reason, my fashion sense still landed me a lady or two.

This particular girl loved giving and receiving oral sex maybe as much as I do. My own blowjob receiving etiquette is amazing—I squirm all over the place as I hold my breath.

This girl was better than me though. She moaned, screamed, cried, begged and called me mean names. Of course, I found this a turn on as well as absolutely hilarious. I don't know what's wrong with me that female orgasms (when delivered by me) are so fucking funny—but that's for Dr. Drew to figure out some day. Also, I enjoyed the eating out process even more because it pissed off my filthy roommate.

On this night, since I was (and still am) a gentlemen, I performed my skills first. Now, I didn't know that in a few short years female pubic hair would be as popular as Fred Durst with Swine Flu, so I didn't find her big hairy red bush offensive.

For a while I listened to her talk like a stuttering elementary school kid trying to read complicated words in front of class. Then she heelkicked me a few times in the ribs—which is fine, I prefer physical abuse rather than mental or verbal. As she orgasmed she pulled my face even farther into the back of her vagina.

Again, I laughed some more, but during one of her thrusts she popped my nose into her pubic bone which instantly made me sneeze a half-dozen times. She liked that feeling of me headbutting her clitoris. I couldn't stop giggling to myself OR sneezing—and she didn't have the decency to at least say "God Bless You"—but she did say something like: "Your tongue was sent from heaven."

After she finished beating me as she came, she pulled me up to her face by the ears and said, "We're skipping the blowjob, I just want to fuck." I thought this was complete bullshit because I just wanted a knobber and then pass out. When I tried to vocalize my opinions, I felt even more naked. Something was missing. My mouth felt wrong. I started feeling around the bed. This was very bad.

My Big Red chewing gum was caught in her hair... um, down there.

I'm pretty sure most gynecologists don't advise sticking cinnamon-flavoring up your Tunnel Of Lust. I really didn't want her to get an infection, and I really really really didn't want to be blamed for that infection.

I also didn't want to spend my naked time doing some home remedy to get gum out of hair—I heard you stick peanut butter on gummed-up hair which would have been the death of any sexual pleasure.

If we banged, I didn't want to get gum on my own pubes, so I made up some bullshit. I told her, "I want tonight to be all about you."

So I returned for a second helping of cinnamon-flavored hairy clam chowder, this time to peel all the fucking Glycerol and Red Number 5 out of her fucking pubic hair as I re-pleasured her (kind of a lot more difficult). I did my best to clear all the residue away. Luckily, she thought the bush-tugging was hot.

Then I was stuck with another decision: what to do with the gum afterwards? I still believed that swallowed gum didn't digest for seven years, but I sure as hell didn't want it in my mouth. I could just stick it under my bed, but I didn't really want that either. So I did the most logical thing: I spat it on my trash-taking-out-loathing roommate's keyboard.

Some more sexual stuff happened, but since this is a family website, I'll leave those details out. I still don't know if this girl ever knew what happened. But then next afternoon, my passive-aggressive shitbag roommate finally confronted me.

"Dude, I get the picture. I'm disgusting. I'll start taking out my garbage. You didn't have to leave gum on my desk." I nodded as if I understood what the hell he was talking about. "But where did you find the red hair to stick in the gum? Your hair is black."

If You Give a Mouse a Cookie...

Alex Boonstra — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 17:00:39 -0500

If you give a Mouse a cookie...

He's going to want a few more. After all, it's buy two get the third half off, so you have to buy in bulk.

After his fifth cookie, the Mouse gets an upset stomach, so he pops a few Alka-Seltzer. The Alka-Seltzer wears off after a few hours, so he takes a few Tums...

The next day the Mouse experiences heartburn, sweatiness stomach pains, and lightheadedness. He takes Advil and checks WebMD...

WedMD says he could have gastroesophageal reflux disease, an uncomfortable disease that could lead to vomiting blood. He quickly rushes to the store to buy Omeprazole, and while he's there he picks up vitamin tablets and calcium supplements...

The Mouse begins to feel better, and continues to eat these cookies. He goes to Costco and buys massive boxes of them, stocking up his cabinets...

Over the next few weeks Mouse begins to not only gain weight, but also experiences constipation, chest pain, and difficulty breathing and seeing. WebMD says it could be sickle cell disease or glaucoma, but his doctor prescribes him blood thinners, suspecting small blood clots...

The Vicodin causes constipation, and the mouse is diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and put on Miralax..Although the blood thinners stop the chest pains and difficulty breathing, Mouse still experiences constipation, weight gain, and the occasional erectile dysfunction. He begins to slip into depression, eating more cookies and gaining more weight. He takes diet pills, but they don't work and only serve to raise his blood pressure. Mouse grows anxious, starts smoking cigarettes, and begins slipping into depression...

Mouse attends therapy sessions and is given anti-depressants. To be cautious, the doctor tests him for Attention Deficit Disorder, and discovers Mouse is suffering from ADHD. So the doctor prescribes him Adderall...

The Adderall and anti-depressants makes Mouse very tired, so he pops a few caffeine pills to wake him up in the morning. By noon, the caffeine pills have given Mouse a headache, so he takes more Advil to relieve the pain. The side effects of his anti-depressants magnify his erectile dysfunction, so he buys some Viagra. While at the store, he buys some more diet pills and multivitamins...

In time, the headaches turn to migraines that keep him up all night. After seeing his doctor again, he is prescribed Excedrin to counteract the migraines. The Excedrin really helps, but makes it difficult for him to sleep at night, so he still takes caffeine pills.

For a while Mouse feels better, so he buys more cookies because he found a coupon in the newspaper. And you can't have a cookie without milk, so he buys a gallon of that too. On the way to the back of the store, he also re-ups on vitamins, diet pills and cigarettes...

That week, Mouse notices he has started to lose weight, but at the cost of nausea and abdominal pain. WebMD suggests pancreatitis, but his doctor says it's most likely a stomach ulcer due to a combination of smoking cigarettes and high blood pressure from the diet pills. His physician prescribes him powerful antacids, but when the stomach pain continues, he sees a different doctor, who prescribes him Vicodin for the pain...

The Vicodin causes constipation, and the mouse is diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and put on Miralax. The discomfort still keeps Mouse up all night, so he takes two caffeine pills every morning.

In time, Mouse is told he is lactose intolerant and that his stomach pains have been from drinking milk with his cookies. His stomach pains will subside if he no longer consumes dairy products. Miserable that he can no longer eat his precious cheese or drink milk with his cookies, Mouse begins to drink heavily...

After his third DUI, Mouse enters Alcohol Anonymous and attends therapy sessions. By this time, he has stopped taking diet pills and has gained morbid amounts of weight, leading to back problems. Even with increases in Vicodin, he is unable to work and loses his job at the factory...

Determined to lose weight, Mouse becomes anorexic and bulimic, throwing up to make him skinnier. His esophagus is burnt up from the stomach acid, and that, combined with his cigarette smoking, leads to a tumor in his throat. He slips further into depression and develops a drug habit.

Mouse is sent to rehab after a Vicodin overdose. His girlfriend walks in on him blacked out, surrounded by a pool of his own bloody vomit.

During his stay in rehab, a doctor prescribes Mouse medical marijuana for his symptoms. After picking up a bag of Northern Lights, he needs a way to smoke it.

So he buys a bong...

After two bong hits, three joints, and a hash brownie, Mouse no longer has back pain, anxiety, and stomach pains. His blood pressure remains normal and his anorexia is extinguished. After a few months, doctors see that his throat tumor has subsided, and after chemotherapy he is completely healed...

And at this point, all he wants is a cookie.

Texts From Last Night (To Myself)

Casey Freeman — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 05:11:00 -0500

Since I'm on the go and can't be bothered to carry a notebook with me and never thought to buy a portable voice recorder, I send text messages to myself to remind me of column ideas or jokes that I think are funny. But the truth is, most of the time I text myself, I'm in that twilight area between sleep and consciousness. Or I'm really wasted.

And yes, I sleep with my phone. An awful habit I picked up as a reporter.

What I'm trying to tell you is that most of these ideas I come up with suck. But since we're in The Second Great Depression, we need to make use of everything we get. Also, I don't feel like writing anything else right now. So enjoy these little previews. (If you really really like them, comment and I'll see if I can artistically fudge them to work.)

Making the Most of Your College Tuition Money

So your parents started saving money for your higher education back when you were barely a hard-boiled egg. Now inflation's taken over and your parents lost most of that supposed tuition cash. So it's loan time. But going to college is so 1900s. Do something impressive with that dough. Follow Quentin Tarantino's and Kevin Smith's lead: make a movie with your student loan cash.

First, buy some cameras. Then buy two BMWs (six if you're thinking of going to private law school too). Get you and enough friends to drive to the Grand Canyon. Fill up each car with either gasoline, gunpowder, Pop Rocks, or napalm. Set up your cameras, start some fires, and drive each car off the cliff. Watch them explode. Try to sell the DVD to people, but enjoy paying the debt for the rest of your life.

Hey, it couldn't be any dumber than getting a philosophy degree. Plus, it's a pretty frickin' cool story.

Racism is Officially Over

Sure Obama did some cool stuff to end racism (or stir it up). The real proof these pointless bickerings are over is the fact that Seal fucks Heidi Klum, maybe the hottest chick ever. Seal's even knocked her up like 37 times, but still she's fucking smoking hot. I mean, who gives a shit about who's leading the nation when a black guy bangs hot Victoria's Secret models? It also goes to show that he's the only guy from Batman Forever doing something with his life.

Jobs White People Will Do But Mexicans Won't

Professional Grocery Shopper. (I doubt this was even possibly valid, and I never came up with any others. It's possible the two phrases don't even go together, but they're both in the same text and in my inbox.)

Mayonnaise Taste Tester. (I came up with this as I proofread this column, but then I remembered it's black dudes that hate mayonnaise, not Mexicans. And even as a white guy I don't like mayo. But the idea of somebody spending eight hours a day spooning Miracle Whip into his mouth cracked me up.)

Check Out America's Hottest and Newest Sport...

ANNOUNCER: The rave reviews have boosted a once everyday activity for most Americans into the country's—if not the world's—most beloved athletic activity: inhaling AND exhaling. The Professional Breathing League combines the difficulties of breathing with a point system. In some competitions gladiators need to breathe really fast. Other times they're forced to inhale through their nose around people who eat too much vegan taco meat. Then there's the strenuous breathing in a bowling alley. In today's matchup, we have Will "Wheezy" Johnson facing up against "The SCUBA Tuba" Jimmy Slaughterton. This should be a no-holds-barred match we'll see in the Breathing Hall of Fame in Boise, Idaho. Now a word from our sponsors...

When to Be Naked

Sex, showering, skinny dipping, locker rooms (only for a bit though), streaking, and sometimes sleeping.

When Not to Be Naked

Church, around your parents, first day of work (unless you're a stripper or porn star), cooking with hot oil, at a children's school during worm dissecting day, or when testing switchblades.

The Kind Of Sort Of Most Dangerous Game

If you're tired of me writing stuff, I'll allow you to hunt me for sport for the small fee of one million dollars. (Then I continued the text to myself by saying your prey wouldn't really be me but some drunk homeless guy I paid ten bucks to if he wore my Twins baseball cap backward and one of my old t-shirts I didn't want anymore. How I thought I could stretch this into an entire column, I don't know. Even the fact that the stuff in the parentheses is longer than the actual story idea shows you something about my thought process that night.)

Dogs are Assholes

Don't get me wrong, I adore most canines. More than most people actually. But they are completely selfish bitches and assholes.

Here's the scene: I'm getting a blowjob...as my girlfriend's two dogs watch. Oh, and I'm really really really stoned so I've managed to make a psychic connection with the doggies.

KC: You know, you'd think blowjobs would lose their awesomeness after a while. But they don't. Always a standard five-stars.

SPARKY: I don't see what you're so impressed with.

KC: What are you even talking about? This fucking rocks. My dick is stabbing her spinal cord right now.

FIDO: We can lick our own balls. In fact, I think I'm going to do that right now.

SPARKY: I spend a good portion of my day sucking on my own weiner.

KC: You're missing the point. She's doing this for me. I pee out of this thing.

SPARKY: No, you're missing the point. I do it myself.

KC: Yeah, but maybe like blowjobs are like sandwiches. They're cool both ways, but cooler when somebody else makes them for you.

FIDO: MMMM, loooop, MMMM, gulp. You see, I didn't need to buy no fancy dinner or drinks there. I win.

KC: Oh get bent. You drool on tennis balls and fuck couches for fun.

SPARKY: The couch isn't that bad really. Also, no listening to "Where's this relationship going?" type of talk.

FIDO: And no pulling out.

How to Get Kids to Stop Spiking Their Hair or Popping Their Collars

I was fine with the white douchebag thing. Okay, I wasn't, but it was just white people. But now other races are doing this, and it's making every Middle Eastern, Asian, Latin, and even some black dudes look ridiculous and act like fucking twats. So we've got to stop these fake-tanned, Axe body wash wearing toolboxes who wear sport gold sunglasses and clog up VIP rooms. To do this, I'm going to need five things: some rope, an empty room, a gun, Bon Jovi, and Bruce Springsteen. If I hold these two New Jersey superstars hostage long enough, hopefully these fucking douchebags will disappear back into their old NFL windbreakers or something.

Scariest Movie Ever

What if instead of a mansion being full of spooky ghosts, there were a bunch of really smart university students walking around doing math and writing two-column proofs? It would be called House of Honors. Or maybe instead of geniuses it would be full of TV judges like Judy, Joe Brown, and the Mexican dude.

Another Fucking Seinfeld Rip-off

Why do they call them shoelaces? Are your Nikes really wearing lingerie? They should be called shoestrings. (This is by far the worst joke I've ever written, but still cracks me up nonstop for some reason.)

MTV Sweet Sixteen Goes Back in Time to 16 A.D.

(Scene: Nazareth's dusty streets. Jesus, Mary and Joseph walk around the shops.)

JESUS: I told you, I want backflipping monkeys at my birthday party.

MARY: You mean, like black people?

JOSEPH: Damnit, woman. Black people aren't even invented yet. That doesn't happen until two years before the U.S. Civil War ends.

JESUS: Quit fighting! You're ruining my sweet sixteen! Just like how that fat man in the red suit ruins my birthday every year!

MARY: Sweetie, Santa Claus isn't real either...yet.

JESUS: What the crap do you know? I'm the son of God—the creator of the universe.

JOSEPH: And you're also part human, which means I'll spank your halfbreed ass if you keep acting up like this in public.

JESUS: Fine. John the Baptist had a locust buffet at his birthday party. I want a locust buffet. But instead of bugs, I want a build-your-own-candy bar thing. You know, people can mix Snickers with Three Musketeers and stuff.

JOSEPH: Look, son. I'm just a carpenter. Not even Caesar has that much chocolate. How about a nice pinata shaped like a lamb?

JESUS: Fuck you! You're not even my real dad!

MARY: Jesus, you're going to your hut now. Without dinner. Just this jug of water.

JESUS: I hate you! I'm just going to turn the water into Boone's wine coolers anyway.

Abstinence 'til Marriage: Christians are Fucked

Jessica Lynn — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 04:33:32 -0500

When I was 13 or 14, my mom took me on a weekend trip to go back-to-school shopping and have guided discussions about sexual purity from a man on a cassette tape that read from the Bible and explained things like how boys like girls with large round breasts and why we feel funny urges in our private parts.

What's With the Beard?

Casey Freeman — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 05:26:50 -0500

(I decided to extend PIC Hair Week. I experienced some computer problems, so my other Hair Week posts were left to sit.) (My computer problems were the fact that I started playing computer games again.)

Growing up, almost everybody I admired wore a beard. My father, Hulk Hogan, Abe Lincoln, Santa Claus, Jesus, the lead singer from Anthrax and Paul Bunyan. Naturally, when I could, I wanted to grow a beard. But I attended Catholic high school, so facial hair wasn't allowed, and truth be told, I didn't have much back then.

Then I graduated and started school at South Dakota State University. To my surprise, they pretty much let you do whatever you wanted. I wore blue jeans (also not allowed at my high school) and sometimes t-shirts with last night's barf on them. I figured out that shaving your whole face can be a complete waste of time (and later figured out most women can't stand beards, but whatever, I kept doing it).

For since my freshman year of university, I've kept a beard whether it's just a goatee, just the chin, full Grizzly Adams, the Abe Lincoln, chops, soup saver, chinstrap, trace-your-face and on. Only for swim meets did I ever completely shave.

But for one of my Halloween celebrations I decided to be Scotty from Star Trek. I originally wanted to be Evil Spock, but like and idiot I didn't buy my costume soon enough. But I easily perfected a crappy Scottish accent, but I still needed to shave. Now, Scotty sports a Magnum P.I. mustache in the later years, but I didn't want to be old Scotty. I wanted to be the nubile, young alien-outdrinking Scotty.

So I did some soul searching. I came up with, "I don't really give a crap about costume authenticity." I decided to keep the old hirsute.

Then I ate lunch with my mom and again she said, "You'd look so much better if you shaved." I told her maybe someday. "I bet you couldn't go an entire week of shaving," she said.

"Oh, I bet I could go a month."

And like that, I gambled with my mom that I could handle being beard-less for the entire month of November. I haven't been cleanly shaved consistently since those high school days. So this is going to be an adventure. My chin hasn't seen the light of day since my last month of New York University.

So we'll see what happens. Maybe the ladies will flock to me (even more than now) when my face is baby-butt smooth. Or maybe my skin will break out in hives when it's exposed to the elements.

All in all, don't make bets with your mom. She'll outsmart you every time.

The Bold and the Beautiful

Scott L. Goodyer — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 11:49:24 -0500

Dear Diary,

A long time ago, my brother Dwayne and I used to be best friends.

Today, we are arch enemies as we fight for the same girl.

I remember back in the day though, we used to have a lot of fun together. We would both come home after school and have the house to ourselves for at least 2 hours before our parents would come home from work.

One time, alone and bored, my brother Dwayne decided to call an escort service. He managed using my mother's credit card number, which he had memorized, to "place an order".

My brother was always the smart one in the family. He wore glasses and I used to call him "four eyes" all the time. But it was days like these when an escort actually came to the house when I was glad he was so smart.

When the escort rang the doorbell, my brother and I were so happy to answer the door. When she immediately saw how young we were she cracked a smile and said "Is this some kind of a joke?" I froze, but Dwayne flashed a twenty dollar bill and said "Is this?" She dropped the smile and lunged at the money.

Dwayne knew all the right moves.

He never seemed nervous either. I was so nervous when she was in the house. I kept thinking Mom was going to come home early and bust us. As Dwayne made the three of us Kraft Dinner, he dominated the conversation the entire time. She called herself "Tiff" but after a while, he was able to get her to admit her real name...which was Jamey. Interesting now that I think about it. Who knew a decade later, we would be fighting over a girl with the same name.

An hour later, I was still nervous. I kept thinking what was going to happen. I wanted to have sex with her so badly. I had never even kissed a girl though! I wasn't sure Dwayne had either...but he was being so smooth, maybe he's had an escort before?

Time was starting to run out and eventually Dwayne took Tiff upstairs as I sat on the couch and watched TV. They were up there for 10 minutes. I thought about going up to spy but I was too nervous to move.

Eventually, they came back down and she left without saying goodbye to me.

"What happened?" I asked.

He told me she got naked. But she had this huge weird looking scar close to her vigina. "I couldn't tell if she was stabbed or if it was some kind of a burn marking" he said. "It was disgusting." He started to get angry..."I couldn't get hard!" he shouted.

I just stared at him with a blank look on my face. He then looked at me as if he was looking at that scar.

"You big dumb fuck. You'll never know what it's like." And he ran upstairs into his room.

It's been so long since that day and so much has happened between us. But one thing still remains...Dwayne is with a girl named Jamey who I want and most days I still feel like a big dumb fuck.

Porn is Terrible, Part II (And You Enjoy Rape)

Xavier Holland — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 01:37:42 -0500

Read Part I

To be honest, I was a little of the fence about writing this part II, but hey, people seemed to be interested in it. Plus, I just watched Belicheck get fucked over by his own cleverness; clearly it's a sign that it's about time that people who aren't nearly as smart as they think they are to get their comeuppance.

(Note: I don't have any football allegiances. And I like Randy Moss and Tom Brady et al. I just think that Belicheck is an asshole).

I'm pretty sure I'm not taking anything out of context here, but if you want the complete post, have at it:

All Porn is Rape, All The Time

I don't think I should have to write this, but people like to make silly arguments sometimes so here goes: Rape is terrible. I'm not making light of rape. I'm making light of stupid arguments by pretentious people who use tragedies as jumping-off points for ridiculous arguments. Lets get into it.

and for the pornographers, various onlookers, and male porn-performers, the contractual nature of the transaction-and the industry-acts as the woman's consent to whatever comes next. except that it doesnt.

The last sentence is my favorite; it's like some part of her brain knows that her argument is nonsense and is trying desperately to sneak its way into the post, before it gets overwhelmed by senseless anger.

I also love the idea that despite the fact that women are paid much better and given much more choice on porn sets, the burden of rape falls solely on the male performer.

the "free-for-all" nature of even mainstream porn is especially problematic, when it escalates, always, to include acts that most people would not willingly participate in, such as gang-bangs, and "rage-in-the-cage" styled death-matches where the woman is presented as being "versus" the man.

Read that sentence again.

Mainstream porn (even!) ALWAYS escalates into acts that most people would not willingly participate in. Such as gang-bangs. So even though you think you're watching amatuer lesbian porn, there are 6 to 8 dicks lurking off-screen, no matter what was actually filmed. True story -- it's physically impossible to film and distribute an act that most people would consent to. I tried to film myself giving my customary excellent cunnilingus to an enraptured female fan, and when I played it back it showed a tentacle monster defiling a promising young schoolgirl.

True story.

both ethically and legally, without a constant negotiation and re-negotiation of consent, there is no consent.

I add this in not because it's wrong, but because it's the crux of her argument; I want to add as much context as possible, because otherwise she looks *really* crazy. She also offers no proof that porn has this issue any more than sex does; assuming that a girl on camera isn't consenting because she's being paid doesn't make any sense. At all.

consent, by definition, is a living, breathing, thing, and cannot be given prospectively.

I checked 18 different dictionaries. Fine. I checked dictionary.com, and barely read through the answer, but I'm still positive that nowhere in the definition of consent are the words "living" or "breathing" included. In fact, consent, by definition, can even be given passively (such as is the case in a lot of sexual encounters). In fact, porn, despite all its issues, has more active consent than the majority of sexual encounters.

I like that the phrase "by definition" can be thrown in when it has nothing to do with the definition though. I'll have to remember that.

the constant renegotiation required in consensual sexual encounters simply doesnt occur when deals are struck, and contracts are signed beforehand. did you hear that? let me repeat it: consent does not occur, in porn. therefore, porn is rape.

Oh, wait. I get her argument. Let me try one on for size.

A couple gets married. They have 2 children. One day, the wife proposes to her husband that they have sex. He agrees and pentrates her.

She offered him sex beforehand. At no point did she give him living, breathing, consent in the middle of sex. Therefore, marriage is rape. Except gay marriage, which is, by definition, worse than rape.

Man, now I know why she writes. Arguing is easy when you don't have to worry about logic.

but in porn, the woman is acting. that is, her communications to him are inauthentic.

I'm pretty sure this woman doesn't understand the concept of acting. That would explain the frazzled woman I found wandering the East Village trying to figure out why Chandler and Monica and Phoebe don't visit her picture box anymore.

This should be blatantly obvious, but here it is: just like in every other acting situation, if the actress truly does not consent to the sex, she can stop the scene. You might not like her reasons for consenting, but nobody really gives a fuck if you like their reasons for having sex. If the actresses are under no duress and are free to stop the scene at any time, it's not rape. It's not even close to rape. It might be dirty, disgusting, filthy job, but so is coaching the Browns. The only difference is, Mangini's tits are real.

what we have in porn, then, on both sides of the screen, are men who dont give a shit whether the sex acts being performed on a woman are wanted.

I just want to point out, again, probably not for the last time, how stupid it is to start your argument with "all porn" and then only talk about male-female mass-produced intercourse porn.

we have "consent" that was given prospectively, which means quite literally that it wasnt given at all. in other words, we have rapists raping women, and men watching episodes of rape, thousands in a lifetime, but convincing themselves each time that they are watching "sex."

We have consent that can be withdrawn (and is) at any time.

She is right though. Only men can watch porn. Two years ago, I tried to show my ex-girlfriend some porn and a leprachaun leapt through the floorboards and doused her eyes with corrosive acid.I broke up with my girlfriend shortly thereafter.

Not because of the eyes thing though. We were just moving in different directions, you know? I was moving forward on one path, and she was moving forward on a different path. Her path just happened to lead directly into an open sewage drain.

many, many men in our lives will continue to be consumers of porn, or wont see anything wrong with it, and radfems will end up endlessly having to explain ourselves, in the face of self-proclaimed liberal men and the fun-fems who want need their acceptance.

Ah, the weariness of idiocy.

"Why does nobody listen when I try to explain my "rain falling up theory?" All of these fun-fems and men are just deluding themselves by believing that the Bergeron process explain rainfall. Rainfall, by definition, goes upward."

as far as me personally, i guess i am "lucky" in a way, that i dont have to deal with numerous men in my private life:

This doesn't have to do with the porn argument, but some quick background. She complains in a different post about misandrist being a euphemism for feminist.

I don't doubt that some people call feminists man-haters without reason. However, it seems abundantly clear from what she writes that she hates men. I can easily imagine her consoling herself by thinking "oh, people just think I hate men because I'm a feminist." No, it's because you say things like this (from a different post):

what often gets left out of these discussions is the reasonableness of womens fear/avoidance/hatred or whatever of men.

i dont have a relationship with my dad

Well you could knock me over with a feather.

That's about the end of the post proper. People made some very good points in the comments (Genderbitch basically said everything I'm say here, only way more succintly and nicely); it was a long thread, and I couldn't go through all of it here, even if I wanted to. Here are some choice bits, though:

About her use of the term "fun-fem":

as far as whether the term is derogatory....i dont know. its a catchy phrase that looks good in a headline

Not sure if she meant to so clearly imply, "I deliberately sought to offend people with similar goals to mine simply to make my headline slightly better", but holy shit, that's basically what she's saying.

"being condescending and big-brained is misogynist, when its used by a man. taking an overly-unemotional, academic "tone" when dealing with emotionally-charge subject matter, such as rape, is also misogynist, when it comes from a man."

I don't even have to comment on how stupid it is to imply that a man being condescending (not even to a woman, per se!) inherently means he hates women. I just want to add her own words to the italicized parts:

despite my ambivalence, i performed an objective analysis of porn from the perspective of consent versus non-consent, and i came to believe that its objectively, inherently harmful, and anti-feminist.

I see. So being unemotional about rape is misogynist, when it comes from a man. But being OBJECTIVE about rape is...progressive when it comes from a woman? I am without comment on the blatancy of this hypocrisy.

i's a fucking idiot, i dont understand logical fallacies

Ok, to be fair, this was written sarcastically, but it was too good not to include.

I actually made some of these arguments in the comment section, in a much less dickish way, and this was her reponse (to me, I think):

and the man in the video...well, if its a home-movie there arent the kinds of circumstantial indicators of nonconsent (like money changing hands, or nengative consequences to stopping). thats more like real-life sex, on camera. very, very different from "porn" proper though isnt it?

the reason i bring it up is that there are people who do this very thing, call it "porn" and then use *their* kind of porn as an example of why porn as a whole is unproblematic, or why *some* porn is. trouble with that is, its not really porn, which makes it a straw man argument. saying A is just like B and then arguing for the merits of B. when the post is about A, and A and B arent the same.

Here's the problem, though: The definition of porn doesn't have anything to do with money changing hands. Or their being a studio. When the premise of your piece is "all porn is rape, all the time" you have precious little wiggle-room to qualify.

I tried to keep my argument objective, though. I quoted basically every reputable definition of porn I could find. Here they are (I swear, we're getting to the end of this; it's gone on long enough):

M-W.com

The depiction of erotic behavior (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement.

Dictionary.com

obscene writings, drawings, photographs, or the like, esp. those having little or no artistic merit.

Wikipedia.com

The depiction of explicit subject matter for the purposes of sexual excitement.

I also added the defintion from the OED, which I don't have on hand, but which was, of course, essentially the same as they above.

Common ground, perhaps? By showing her that I just wasn't making my own definitions for things, I figured I could at least get her to admit that her statement was overreaching. That was really all I wanted, in the end: I know porn sorely needs better legislation. How did this super objective, PhD respond?:

oh, and you are TOTALLY on moderation, for using dictionary-definitions and the term QED in a discussion of rape. (that post was spammed).

I, of course, was using the abbreviation for the well-known Oxford English Dictionary. Still, I guess this post was meant to show how stupid her arguments are so...

QED.

You, Too, Can Run the Wildcat Offense!

Paul Frank — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 18:07:00 -0500

Life got you down? Is your parole officer really annoying? Do your kids refuse to look at you or acknowledge your prescence?

I used to be just like you: fat, ugly, stupid, fingers stained orange from Cheetos you ate a day ago. But then I saw something one day on tv. I was at the lowest point in my life: I had just been laid off by the porn company I worked for and my girlfriend has just dumped me because she found out I was a male porn actor who starred in upwards of 500 adult films a year. I was sitting in front of my tv, crying and sneezing. On it was a football team, running the wildcat offense. I thought if they can do it with that much success, then I can too!

And I never looked back. I started running the wildcat offense at work, in bed with my wife, and brushing my teeth. Now here I am standing before you on tv, with designer contacts that cost me 5,000 dollars and a half-naked woman standing next to me who would never even look at me if we were both a party. We won't even talk after this shoot, probably.

You too can run the wildcat offense! You too can turn your life around.

It is guaranteed to bring you success and only takes several months of preparation. If you call right now, I'll throw in 3 extra plays!

Imagine how everyone will look at you when they see you running the wildcat offense in church, during a haircut, or while taking your Saturn off a cliff.

Did you know your friends laugh at you behind your back? Did you know that? No? Your family too.

But I'll tell you the one thing everyone, no matter who they are, respects: the wildcat offense. There are whole religions in the Middle East that pray to the wildcat offense as their one true god and giver of life and peace.

If you call the number on the bottom of your screen, the top of your screen, and flashing on the right there right now, I will send you an extra DVD titled "The Key to World Peace And Eternal Happiness And Youth Forever" starring the Wildcat Offense.

For just three payments of your dog, your sex life, and your right pinky toe, the Wildcat Offense will be yours!

Pointless Rap Beef

Xavier Holland — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 15:42:32 -0500

I'm sitting at work, wondering how I can distinguish myself. I run through a list of options in my mind; working harder? No, that sounds like hard work. Working smarter? If I could work smarter, wouldn't I be doing it already? Bringing in delicious red velvet cupcakes? Not bad, but easily forgettable in the parade of pastries passed through the people of the office.

Then, it hit me. What impresses employers more than rap beef? Rap beef is as accesible as hamburger and as delicious as Kobe.

But who? Who could I start a beef with?

Ah yes. Charles. Fellow intern. He's the perfect candidate, in that he sits close to me and (I don't believe) has the power to fire me. I was going to let him know about our rap beef, but I don't have his home email and I didn't see him in the break room. Well, lets hope he reads PIC!

Anyway, lets get to it. Here's a quick 16, basically off the top of my head (lets hope this beef catches on!):

Charles, I know you're confused like "what did I do?"

It wasn't even my choice to sit right by you!

Well I'm calling you out now, so no hidin'

You gonna live in the shadow of that new black guy like Joe Biden

I'm stir-crazy, you just stir coffee, you don't wanna see the fur fly

Stir shit up and get cooked up quicker than a stir-fry

Started out nice, flipped the script, yeah I spin words

And every intern that enters in turn gets interred

So step up if you got cojones, just know I'm a kick baller

I'm like 5 inches bigger than you -- and I'm a lot taller

You'll see how much courage not going away takes

When you get sliced and served at work like going-away cake

Make you wanna throw up, man I spit the shit raw

And beat up Chuck like Peptol Bismol

Everyone wishes you were me, lets see how the pressure sets

When everyone starts calling Charles Xavier like Professor X

Ladies, Stop Cutting Your Hair!

Andrei Trostel — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 21:51:11 -0500

I don't know how many times I have heard a platonic female friend say how hard it is to attract a good man out there, but let's just say it's enough to make my ears bleed more than once a month. What this means, other than the fact that I buy more Tampax than they do now, is that single women are concerned that their dating pool is dwindling, especially as they get older. So it stands to reason that they might want to significantly increase their odds of drawing more men into their cross hairs. (Hey guys, isn't the idea of a woman sniper hot? I wrote that just for you, in order to counter act the Tampax joke.)

One thing that women often do to increase their chances of attracting men is get their hair cut. Oh and stop calling it "getting your hair done" like you just got your hair laid or something—you went and got it cut. Women think a hair cut makes them look young, fresh, new—more appealing to men. WRONG! Ladies, STOP cutting your hair, men HATE it! I'm here to tell you one of a man's innermost secret thoughts whenever we see that you got your hair cut: we wish you didn't. So ladies, listen up to what I am about to tell you, and to all the men out there reading this, you're fucking welcome!

Nothing hotter than a girl with a hair-trigger.First, let's get one thing straight. I'm not saying the number one thing a man looks for in a woman is long hair. In fact, in a recent scientific poll the number one thing men universally desire in women is a sense of humor (by about 75%). Surprising, I know. Apparently, smiling releases hormones that make you feel happier (duh). Thus, if you can make your man laugh, then he begins to mentally associate you with his own happiness.

However, on the subject of physical features ALONE, statistically, your hair is actually the first thing a guy looks at. I know you're thinking, "That's a load of crap! A man will always look at breasts/ass/just about anything/legs/neck, before hair." WRONG AGAIN! The first thing a guy will check out on you, during the "3 second look over" is technically your hair. Yes, consciously he may not be aware that he looked at that first, but it turns out that hair is extremely important visually in the initial mating rituals of humans. Long luxurious flowing hair not only frames a woman's face, but sets the tone for her entire body, which is of course what the man will be looking at for the rest of the 2.999 seconds.

Finally, something the U.S. and France can agree on!From purely physiological and psychological points of view, there are certain features and chemicals that humans naturally respond to, as animals. The visual appearance of health plays a major part in physical attraction for both genders. Often women with long hair appear more beautiful to men because the ability to grow long healthy looking hair is an indication of the continuous health of the individual growing it. In addition it is widely accepted that hair traps pheromones which get released from your body. Men respond to these pheromones on a chemical level, and start associating long hair with an overall more desirable woman. This is why, flirting wise, it works so well with men when women run their fingers through their hair, twirl it, or do the "hair-flip." Ladies, you are filling the air with your pheromones whether you know it or not. (Come on, you know it, just fucking admit it! Nobody annoyingly plays with their own hair that much!)

There is a report that women who have long hair actually have slightly higher levels of estrogen in their body, which lead to more female pheromones released. Those extra pheromones get trapped in her hair to be picked up by men, as she twirls and flips it like Indiana Jones using a whip to get what she wants. All of this extra pheromone scent makes long haired women more appealing, unless of course you find her scent repelling, then it just makes you want to vomit on her for her ridiculous hair antics.

This is how I am going to wrap you around my little finger.There was also a recent study that stated that short haired women performed better in a professional arena, because their male co-workers subconsciously saw them as more masculine. Since most men do NOT want to see women they are dating as more masculine, then it stands to reason that a short haired woman has less of a chance of attracting the attention of a man. Hey, I didn't say the world doesn't suck or that it was fair, I am just trying to help you out by providing you with a window into the mind of a typical man.

Many short haired women out there will undoubtedly get upset and think that all of this is not true for everyone and subject to personal preference and they would be 100% correct. It definitely is subject to some opinion and there ARE indeed some men who prefer short hair on a woman. A recent scientific survey across multiple men's magazines, polling thousands of men, produced the answer to this question. "Do men prefer women with long hair or short hair?"

88% of men claimed to prefer long hair!!

8% claimed to prefer short hair.

4% said no preference one way or the other.

88% ladies!!!!!!

Wow, that is high, huh?!

Kind of makes you wonder why so many women cut their hair short and then tell you that they are having trouble attracting men, doesn't it?

There are several other points and advantages to keeping your hair long that are certainly worth mentioning as well.

Short hair does not allow women to take as much advantage of the many accoutrements that are available for long hair: clips, barrettes, pins, scrunchies, beads, etc. Short haired women also can not style their hair in as many ways as long haired women can: curling, braiding, straightening, crimping etc. Short haired women can't put their hair up in that sexy little way that men love. There is nothing hotter then at the end of the night to pull something out of a woman's hair that allows it to flow down her body. (It is like all of it was hiding there just for him to release and he is the only one that gets to see it.) That is very exciting to men, so much so that there was an entire generation of movies in the 40s & 50s where all that was needed to suggest that the couple in the movie was about to have sex, was that the woman's hair was released and the screen would go dark. Now imagine that same scene with a bob cut, it simply doesn't work. Men for the longest time then began associating sex with the image of long flowing hair. Rita Hayworth built an entire career on the suggestiveness of her flowing hair, not to mention a fine set of gams. If you don't believe me then watch the Shawshank Redemption. There is a scene where all the inmates are watching a Rita Hayworth movie and they all exclaim excitedly at her flipping her hair back after brushing it upside down. Even in the 20s when short hairstyles were all the rage, Southern Belles still kept their hair extremely long, because they knew that men actually preferred it that way.

There is also a school of thought that long hair means more time spent with appliances, accessories and bottles of weird chemicals in the bathroom, making women late which annoys men. Rubbish!!!! While men DO complain about waiting for a woman to get ready and thus being late, it is more about ego and not wanting to appear to society as not having it together or that they are unable to keep appointments. In the end, it is ALWAYS worth the wait and that can usually be seen in his first look at you, when he completely forgets that he is late and now realizes that he is about to walk into the room with the hottest looking woman in the place on his arm. That is far more satisfying to the male ego than being on time. Pathetic, I know, but true.

There is a somewhat silly universal belief that men IN a relationship hold subconsciously too, which is that when a woman cuts her hair she is preparing to end the relationship that she is currently in. Changing her hair means that she desires to change her appearance, and thus also desires to make larger changes in her life, which possibly includes changing her man. Most men's first response when their significant other speaks of a hair cut is to cringe at the change, because men don't like change all that much.

Furthermore, sex is better with a woman with long hair, not just for the man but for the woman too!

There is nothing sexier to a woman than a man undressing her and carefully moving her hair while brushing her neck with his fingers, so that her hair doesn't get caught up in anything like buttons, zippers, or even in just the shirt itself. The hair can also be gathered and moved aside gently while he kisses her neck and ear. This goes over well for both people obviously.

When a man is on top and in an upright position they enjoy seeing a woman's long hair flowing across the pillow, especially since he put it there so she wouldn't be lying on it (Which is always nice for the woman that he actually thought about that). He can put it there with his hand behind her head as he gently lays her head down on the pillow. (Also nice for the woman that he didn't just drop her head, but sweetly guided it to the pillow). Of course, if you like it rough well then of course long hair has it's advantages there too. In addition, where is a man's face if he is on top but in a lower position so that his head is next to hers, and in the pillow? Yep, you guessed it, in her hair inhaling hard and deeply.

If a woman is on top, wait, let's back up a little. When a woman "climbs" on top of a man there is a subtle little wave with a flip at the end, which her hair does when she slides one leg over his body. That motion of her hair sends a wave of air towards him that fills his nose with her sweet smell. Now that she is on top, her hair is either cascading down the front of her body or if her head is thrown back than it is touching his thighs.

Either way, it is all very good which keeps him...well, a lot more...yeah you know.

If a man is behind a woman then her long hair can... O.k. you get the point, just use your imagination. This isn't a freakin Harlequin romance novel for crying out loud! Jeez!

Your breath wreaks! Here have a Chick-lit.Oh and here is a little tip: Ladies, there is nothing more effective for initiating sex then to wake him up by lightly brushing your long hair over his back or chest. Men will always trade sleep for sex. Hell, they probably would trade anything for sex! Plus, if you want to get a woman in the mood, guys, then try brushing her hair. You can significantly turn a woman on by simply brushing her long hair in a very specific way. (For the record, I give great hair!)

In all 365 sexual positions...

(Pauses for the readers to think about that for a second)

Yes, 365 sexual positions, at least according to a book called "position of the day play book". Sure, some of them might leave you in traction for a week but the book is very funny, because it also has funny little comments about them and the calories burned while doing them.

Anyway, in all 365 sexual positions, long hair usually makes them all a lot more enjoyable, for both people involved.

Sex Every Day In Every WaySo I don't care what he says to you after you get your hair cut, he secretly wanted you to keep your hair long. For the record "cute" or "nice" when it come to hair, is not really a compliment from a man. If a man says your hair is "cute" or "looks nice" it means he can't think of anything better to say and is trying to be polite so as not to let you think he didn't notice the change you made. He is parroting back what he thinks women tell each other about a new hair cut. It is simply better to tell you it is "cute" than to say nothing, but trust me, he is secretly wishing you didn't cut it at all and is likely screaming inside.

So, keep your hair long ladies! Yes, it may take longer to deal with in the morning but if you want to be more attractive to the opposite sex then keep your hair LONG, VERY LONG! If you are going to chop it all off then don't later make my ears bleed by telling me how hard it is out there to attract a good man, because frankly wearing Tampax in my ears throws off my equilibrium and makes me dizzy.

Okay Mac, Stop Being an Asshole

Alex Boonstra — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 07:57:21 -0500

Okay Mac, we get it: you're the best computer known to the universe. Your technology has overpowered other operating systems to the point where they kiss your Intel Core 2 Duo processor. As your advanced hardware slowly turns into a culture trend, none of America can escape your power over the modern technologists. But Mac, I just have one problem with your whole plan to take over the digital world: you're being a jerk.

Just because you're the best computer in the world doesn't mean you have to be such an asshole. We know you're brothers with the iPod and iPhone, but that gives you no right to shit on all the other operating systems. The power's gone to your head, man. Now all you do is make fun of the computers through your advertisements by rubbing your popularity in their face. That's grade-school-recess immature, bro.

I realize that you have revolutionized the technological world and given a spark of hope to the hipsters who infest this world, and that's cool. And the fact that your monitors are massive, sleek, and white? Radically stylish; you're a digital Zoolander. But that doesn't mean PC users are frittering old men in suits developing carpel tunnel in their cubicle—they can be cool kids too.

I assume by now you know that I'm referring to your commercials. I still watch TV—thanks to Hulu—where I am entertained not only by shows, but fascinating commercials advertising the most exotic products. Within one three-minute commercial break, I have been urged to buy items ranging from legal counseling to zebra-colored blankets with sleeves. It is during these advertisements that relationships are made with the public; from the hooker-beating ShamWow Guy to that question mark lunatic who would yell at us how to get "free money from the United States Government!!" And it is within these affiliations of characters dividing our late night dramas that you have abused your power. Instead of utilizing your 30-second portion of advertising to build a relationship with your audience, you have used it to insult a foe.

I ask you, Mac, why did you ruin this relationship by misusing your privileged commercial times to embarrass your fellow PC?Oh, believe me, your commercials started out fine. You had a cute, adorable Justin Long, fresh from the set of Dodgeball and Accepted, standing in stylish jeans and a button up. Beside him, a slightly balding older man dressed in a brown suit with glasses. They are in front of a plain white background. Cool, it's simple, I like it. And then you introduced the infamous phrase:

"Hi, I'm a Mac."
"And I'm a PC."

And then the two characters, each personifying an opposing computer, would banter on screen about whose operating system is better. In the beginning, you and PC each had equal talking time, going back and forth about who owns the more reliable system. But in the end, since you paid for the commercial, you were allowed to win the repartee and have Justin Long outwit this clumsy old man. He's so "square," isn't he? What a n00b, right? Yeah Mac, you're the man.

But come on, dude, I think you've taken it too far. Over the series of commercials you and PC had, I think you started to really rag on him. The relationship between you guys heavily compared to that of a modern teen drama television series, rivaling that of Seinfeld and Happy Days. So I ask you, Mac, why did you ruin this relationship by misusing your privileged commercial times to embarrass your fellow PC?

I'll tell you why, man. It's because all this popularity has gone to your head. Okay, I understand that you appear more hip to the masses of anti-mainstream urban culture that will—terrifyingly—one day run this world. But that doesn't mean you have to tease PC and embarrass him in front of the entire world! The new commercials are just distasteful. You just have him run his mouth and perplex himself through his own unreliability. Right? Admit it, you've been kind of a dick. You hardly even talk in the commercials anymore! Just because you start with the same introduction doesn't keep them innocent:

"Hi, I'm a Mac."
"And I'm a PC."

See? That's you in the past, a humbled Mac simply trying to help out his sick friend. You offer him a tissue, how kind! It's not your fault Macs don't get these viruses, am I right? You just continue being you, Mac.

Oh, look at this, how nice. You and PC are holding hands, a friendly gesture showing that the two of you are more than compatible—no homo, of course. But what's this? You bring some strange Japanese hooker in here during this commercial? And you brag about how the two of you are going to finger-bang in the back later, but that PC can't because he wasn't hip enough to take a second language in college. That's not really cool man; the two of you could have double-teamed her together if you weren't such an asshole.

Whoa, what the hell? That's not cool bro, you can't just show yourself standing off to the side while your competitor shames himself. He's just trying to publicize his product, and you're going to insult him? You're supposed to be supporting your own image, not disrespecting others. This is advertising, not government politics. If you're going to make this political, I'll whip out the guillotine.

What the fuck is this? This is still a Mac commercial, right? So why is the PC guy doing all the talking; anchoring a news channel anxious to advertise its new Windows 7? But what's this? Even in the midst of a news broadcast Mac still comes out on top? What kind of degradation is this? You can't just humiliate someone like that by pretending to interrupt a fake broadcast they were giving!! And when you had the woman brag that you were "number one in customer satisfaction," why wouldn't you have just said that yourself? Oh and hahaha, I get it: when PC wants to cut the feed and jump to commercial, you remind him that this is a commercial. Hahaha, you truly are one of the funniest computer systems I've ever met, Mac. But still, I think you're being a dick.

I also hate the fact that after you encourage this mortification of a fellow rival—who, might I add, has done nothing to upset you—you display your smug little Apple icon, reminding us all that you are beyond doubt the wittiest trend to lead scenesters to a new revolution against this establishment. Oh, I get it, an apple with a chunk missing. Like Adam and Eve, get it? Are you supposed to be the temptation that spawns the knowledge of mankind throughout this earth? No, you're not. You're just a stupid operating system. And furthermore, you're an asshole.

So please Mac, listen to me. As your friend, I am asking you to stop being such a dick. People will still like your products the same, and you can still be the greatest multinational corporation to bless this galaxy. Just, tone down the bragging and humiliating of your opponents. Maybe talk a little about yourself, instead of personifying your competition and then slandering him. Understand? It's not so hard.

Thanks man, this means a lot to me. I can now continue my life of mindless television without having to see your bromance with PC slip through the drain. You guys are made for one another, you can't throw it away over frivolous things like operating systems! I hope you take this to heart, and I'm only saying this stuff because I care. I love you, man.

Porn is Terrible, Part I

Xavier Holland — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 22:29:18 -0500

It's bait.

We're being baited, it has to be a grab for pageviews, that ticking little scroll of internet legitimacy. In a way, it kind sucks that readership is the number one commodity of the internet, because it leads to people posting blatantly stupid things like this in hopes of getting attention.

I could have just left a comment on the post, I suppose, but this is so torrentially wrong AND self-satisfied that it deserves its own post. Congratulations, "Femonade" you've joined the big time.

Sorry, Men and Fun-Fems: All Porn is Rape, All the Time (Or, If You are Watching Porn, You are Watching Rape)

This is the title. All Porn is rape. Is the title. That is the central thesis of this post.

Not "all mainstream big-studio porn" is rape. Not, "all male-female porn" is rape. Not, "those videos that Paul Frank asked me never to ever bring up on my blog" are rape.

All porn.

Absolutes are fun, aren't they? Under her definition, if I film myself jerking off, yelling "THIS IS WHAT I WANT FOR MY LIFE", upload to xtube and link it on my facebook for everybody to see (again), I'm a rapist. Or a rape victim.

Now, normally, of course, that would be a ridiculous pro-porn argument. I'd be creating a straw-man: nideos of me masturbating loudly account for less than 5% of all internet pornography. But by couching her argument in ridiculous shrieking absolutes, the blogger essentially invites anyone with a modicum of imagination to make her point look incredibly stupid.

And I don't know much about debate, but I know that's generally frowned upon.

Nonetheless. I'll be charitable, and go past the headline. Lets see what the post actually consists of. It's somewhat long, so I've excerpted. I don't think I'm taking anything out of context. The lack of capitalizations are all [sic].

not unimportantly, i was afraid of a radical feminist analysis, and what that would mean for me, should i decide i was anti-porn, as a young female, a sister and daughter (of white men), as a heterosexual, and most recently, as a professional in a male-dominated field. instinctively and intellectually i knew that coming down on the side of anti-porn would cause a problem for me.

I quote this not because I think any of it is wrong, per se, but rather to give a bit of background. I have no problem with anybody being anti-porn -- I think a lot of the realities when it comes to filming and distributing mass-marked male-centric porn are terrible. I also realize that because porn is largely marketed towards straight men, it can be a difficult thing to criticize without fear of being labeled. So, not a terrible lede! Lets keep going.

i am not a fucking idiot, afterall.

And the surprising streak of non-wrongness is snapped.

i wrongly believed that my ambivalent feelings were somehow neutral, and unaffected by the culture i lived in-a culture that fully embraces not just porn but rape, too.

That this is slipped in unassumingly is astounding. I'll admit to not being a daily reader, but to casually imply that your culture embraces rape without at least a cursory attempt at proof, and then to use that as a foundation for an argument is mind-boggling. I don't want to get bogged down in semantical arguments here, because it's not really the thrust of the piece, but seemingly counterfactual.

we literally cannot trust our own feelings on this issue, although our feelings are not completely irrelevant.

I like the "literally" thrown in there for emphasis. Pro-tip: Literally doesn't mean "surprisingly." I could be wrong though: there could be a huge difference between "literally trusting feelings" and "figuratively trusting feelings." I'm also a huge fan of the not-so-subtle condescension: you make think you know how you feel about this issue, but you were too busy trusting your feelings to come to the truth like I have.

rape-culture

Neither here nor there, but "rape culture" is a hazily-defined and nebulous term that can so loosely by applied to such a wide variety of things that using it earnestly is utterly meaningless.

firstly, and problematically, in porn, consent is a non-issue. if its considered at all, its presumed. for the porn-consumer, the question of consent never even comes up: a woman's very presence on film acts as her consent as far as hes concerned.

Her already stupid argument takes a turn for the shifty here. It's unclear whether the onus of rape lies on the consumer, the producer, the actor or all of the above.

If it's the consumer, they have every reason to believe that consent is implied. It's the basis of producing anything, from staging Shakespeare to Gang Bangers III. Are consumers supposed to question whether grand theft auto, assault and tresspassing have been committed every time they watch an action movie? There are legimate concerns about the well-being of pornographic actresses (and actors!), but it sounds here like she barely has a conception of object permanence.

Alright, I know you have short attention spans here, so I'll continue with this tomorrow. And actually get into the good (and by that I mean truly terrible) portion of the post.

10 Classic Movies with Re-Worked, Oscar-Worthy Endings

Rich Monetti — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 21:40:07 -0500

Ordinary People, Dances with Wolves, Forrest Gump—we've all sat with disappointment on Oscar night as the wrong picture ends up with the Best Picture piece of gold. It's not something that would easily be fixed by shaking up those who cast the votes for the Academy.

Mayans Predict "2012" Movie Will Suck

Casey Freeman — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 14:00:33 -0500

The Mayans say their people predict that 2012 (in theaters this weekend) will suck. The Mayan calendar discussed many of the globe's biggest events millennia before they happened, and is toted as one of the best examples of foresight and psychic abilities along with Nostradamus. The current chief of the Mayans says his people's calendar doesn't usually discuss movies, but in this case there's an exception.

(Chief High Priest Lloyd Squanto Dobler)

"This movie is just going to suck," says Chief High Priest Lloyd "Squanto" Dobler. "I mean, this is just another piece of Hollywood crap filled with a bunch of top-of-the-line special effects and great acting talent trying to cash in on a current trend, but you can just tell from the previews that this is going to suck."

(In the top middle, the blue bird with the red mouth is the part of the Mayan Calendar that predicts 2012 will suck)

The 2012 film focuses on a few survivors of the global disasters that destroy the world on December 21, 2012 - a phenomena which is predicted by the Mayan Calendar, as well as many other different psychics and well known fortune tellers. The movie features top Hollywood talent such as John Cusack, Oliver Platt, Woody Harrelson and Amanda Peet. The CGI effects are toted as some of the best ever.

"I still don't care," says Squanto Dobler. "I don't have a problem with disaster movies. I mean, who didn't think Armageddon was awesome? Bruce Willis, Ben Affleck AND Aerosmith? That's a brilliant combination that's never been topped. But 2012? Give me a break. I'm a huge John Cusack fan. If you don't like High Fidelity, you're not my friend. But for crying out loud, you don't need an ancient people telling you a cruddy movie about the world blowing up, then the humans get rescued by aliens is going to gargle mammoth balls."

Squanto Dobler continued. "Oh crap. Did I ruin the movie for you? You didn't know that the aliens rescued the humans? Well, I just saved you two hours and ten bucks. I did you a favor."

However, if moviegoers are looking for a good flick, the Mayan Chief High Priest does have an upcoming suggestion.

"My forefathers predicted that Legion, another movie about the end of the world, but instead of natural disasters, it's about angels. I swear, you must have seen that preview? Right? You know, it's a bunch of monsters and angels with machine guns attacking these yokels in some diner. Anyway, maybe it's just that the Mayan people are destined to be attracted to flicks about angels and bazookas and especially Dennis Quaid."

Legion comes out in theaters January 22, 2010 with another star studded cast.

"Well actually, our calendar doesn't predict that Legion will be a good movie. It just says it will be highly entertaining and totally corny - like Road House," Squanto Dobler says. "But I suppose you want to know what will happen in the real 2012. Yep, we're all going to die, but some of the greatest movies ever will come out in the next few years. So we've got that going for us."

Locks of Thinly Veiled Disdain

Xavier Holland — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 22:51:48 -0500

I was on the fence about writing about this, but then I saw KC's post about his hair and figured why not? I don't think the woman in question reads PIC, and if she does, well, I'll deal with it.

Not too long ago, I was leaving work for the day. A woman came out of the same office I did—she was presumably one of our clients—and headed for the elevator. Being a gentleman (in the streets of course—I'm a bonafide freak in the sheets), I let her get into the elevator first. The following conversation ensued. (Actual conversation in regular typeface. My thoughts in italics.)

Woman: Aw! How polite are you!?

X: A little, sometimes, I guess.

Woman: Those are some mighty long dreadlocks you have.

I'm clearly dealing with an extremely observant woman here. Her incredulous tone puts her only a couple notches above children who tug their mothers' sleeves and ask "why that man has a face made of chocolate."

X: Thanks, I grow them myself.

This, of course, isn't true. I pay a frail Indonesian child 3 dollars a month to grow them for me. I then glue them to my head using Elmer's finest and beeswax.

Woman: You should cut them shorter.

Was her third sentence to a complete stranger hair criticism?

X: You know, I've spent all this time growing them out, it's hard to let them go so easily.

Woman: Oh, I know. But there's a difference between being hip and looking like you should sell purses.

I was actually flabbergasted at this point. A litany of biting remarks scrolled through my head but I decided just to keep my tongue; I figured no good could come of what I actually wanted to say.

X: You know, I've actually never considered going into the purse-selling business.

Snatching isn't the same as selling, now is it?

Woman: Oh I know, you're obviously a very hip guy (gestures to my outfit, which is my usual psuedo-hipster nonsense). Just the hair is too long!

This elevator ride is taking forever. This woman clearly wants to say, "you almost look like a non-scary black guy, but the hair is making you look scary! You should look more like a friendly black person, like Wayne Brady or..."

Woman: Whoopi Goldberg cut her hair shorter, even!

X: You know, I actually don't follow Whoopi that closely for my own personal aesthetic. Not that she's not fabulous, I just don't know if her look is *quite* right for me.

(We've gotten off the elevator, but she's continuing to talk.)

Woman: Oh, but she's so nice! I met her on 3 separate occasions. Once, a long time ago. She was so nice to me!

Whoopi Goldberg is nice. She cut her hair. Therefore, I should cut mine. Thank god this woman never came across Ghandi's wiki entry, otherwise she might have tried to convince me to shave it all off.

Me: She sounds nice.

At this point, I'm not even trying anymore.

Woman: Your mother has never asked you to cut it?

Me: Nope. Never.

I decline to tell her that both of my parents have locks longer than mine, and neither happens to sell purses. I don't want to melt what few remaining brain cells she was left.

Woman: Oh, what do I know. I'm just a 39-year-old Jewish woman.

Me: Oh. Hey, I have to go that way (please don't let it be the same direction), but it was fantastic talking to you. Have a good night!

One of us should.

There aren't any recent pictures of me with short hair (obviously), but here's a picture of my purse-selling locks:

What I Did When I Turned 18

Casey Freeman — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 20:49:27 -0500

The Setup

Lunch break time during one of my summer jobs—at the time I worked as a professional mover in Denver.

The Players

Jay: Old white guy. Swears a lot.

Red: Old black guy. Pretty much criticizes everything I do—justifiably, since I'm an idiot.

Cleo: Another old black dude, but this guy is nice. My best friend on the job.

KC: Back in time when I was a spry young lad at 20 years of age. In case you didn't figure it out from my profile photo, I'm white—race will come into play in the story, I promise.

Let the story begin!

(Scene: Eating on a picnic table.)

RED: (looking at KC's lunch of peanut butter and jelly) Hey Whiteboy! (Red's pet name for KC.) How you get so big eating that shee-it? You need some meat on your plate.

KC: This is all I know how to make.

RED: You ain't one of them herbivores... is you?

Motherfucking Whiteboy! Don't you know nothing? You never ask a man what the pen was like or what he was in there for!KC: No.

RED: Then get you a bitch to make you some lunch! Damn, Whiteboy.

CLEO: Red, lay off Whiteboy. He's got so many women, they don't have time to make him lunch. Ain't that right?

KC: Um, not really.

RED: Shee-it. Whiteboy. When I was your age, I'd be fucking two women a night. Drink two forties a night. And then wake up and work 40 hours a week. What's your problem?

KC: I don't know. Maybe I'm shy. I don't know many people in Denver.

RED: So, Whiteboy! What's to be shy about? Go out and meet people.

JAY: C'mon Red. It's hard in a new city when you're younger. How old are you, kid?

KC: I'm 20.

JAY: And what did you do when you turned 18?

KC: I went to college at South Dakota State University.

JAY: And you met a lot of new people. Right?

KC: Yeah.

JAY: Well, eventually you'll meet a lot of new people here. When I turned 18, I joined the Army. I met a lot of new people there. We old guys forget that being your age is a tough time sometimes. Especially when something new hits. How about you, Red? What did you do?

RED: When I turned of age, I started working even harder. I always worked, but back then I trained to be a chef. Black man shouldn't be in no white man's army, no offense.

JAY: None taken.

RED: (under his breath) Cracker.

JAY: How about you, Cleo?

CLEO: I wadn't always this kind old black man, Bill Cosby/Morgan Freeman, papa bear motherfucker. I used to run with some pretty bad people. I was young and stupid, did a drive by shootin'. Killed two dudes. I tossed the gun in the sewer. They found a shell casing with a partial fingerprint of mine on it. They only tied one murder to me. So when I turned 18, I ended up in California State Penitentiary.

KC: Holy shit! What was that like?

RED: Motherfucking Whiteboy! Don't you know nothing? You never ask a man what the fucking pen was like or what he was in there for!

CLEO: It's cool, Red. Whiteboy don't mean nothing by it. Jail is like here. Mexicans hang with Mexicans. White boys hang with white boys. We (motioning to Red) hang out with us. There's nothin' to do. Lots of weed going 'round. The food's bad. You can't leave. Motherfuckers watch you while you shit.

KC: Sounds kind of like college. (Everybody laughs, but Red. Then Cleo gets real serious.)

CLEO: Yeah. But then at night. The night motherfuckers. Night's the worst. You can't see nothin'. But you can use your ears. You hear motherfuckers crying at night. You hear people sharpening they knives. You hear people getting stabbed by them knives. You hear people getting buttfucked. You hear motherfuckers screaming.

(Any residue of smiles are completely gone.)

CLEO: And you know who gets it the worst?

KC: ...

(Cleo grabs KC by the collar and gives him the crazy black man stare—if you've seen it, you know it.)

CLEO: The motherfuckers that get it the worst...are the white motherfuckers like YOU!!! In the clink, you the motherfucking minority! (Cleo pokes KC) In the cage, you the NIGGA! (Cleo pokes KC again, now he's nearly falling off the bench seat.) You takin' notes, Whiteboy?

(KC starts choking on his PB&J. Cleo slaps him on the back.)

CLEO: How do you like that, KC?

KC: (shaking his head) I don't want to go to prison.

CLEO: Ah, Whiteboy. I just wanted to play with you. Whiteboys don't get buttfucked in prison. Everybody loves them. They get elected as prison presidents and movie stars and shit.

(Red and Cleo laugh their asses off. This time KC chokes on air alone.)

END

Epilogue 1: This is the exact moment I decided my minimal criminal career was absolutely not worth it—no more fake IDs, buying booze for minors, or even transporting tiny amounts of personal weed across state lines.

Epilogue 2: This story is completely true.

What's With the Hair?

Casey Freeman — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:54:16 -0500

I swear I'm not a dirty hippie. Yeah, my hair is long. But seriously, I'm not a hippie. I'm also not joining a band or making a statement. Believe me, I hate my long hair. I've got a reason to grow it out and it's a pretty good one.

A few months ago, I just hadn't cut my locks for a while. Then one night at the bars, I complained about it to a long-haired buddy who told me not to trim anything until a few months from now, when we'll both cut our prospective ponytails for Locks Of Love - a charity that provides wigs to children who lost their hair due to chemotherapy.

My well-coiffed friend told me "Besides, chicks love the long hair and they also love the fact you're growing it for charity." So I was sold. I said, "What the heck, why not?"

For about two days I felt good, then I wanted to cut it off. But I ran into him again. I hoped in our drunkenness, my ponytailed pal forgot about our hair-growing pact. Instead he said:

"Dude, I think we're getting sponsors and my bar is cool with us doing a big event. And people will auction off the chance to shave our heads. We'll make some money for the charity and donate our hair for the cancer kids. We're really making a difference."

"Great," I said. "Fucking great!" I cursed in my thoughts.

So now this has become some great big thing. A few weeks ago I attended an unrelated fundraiser for a good buddy going through chemotherapy, and now he's completely bald. Now, for guys, this isn't really a big deal. But I remembered I'm growing my hair out for little girls with cancer, and they don't like being bald. So I guess I'm keeping this stupid long hair. For now.

So that's why my hair is so long. Get over it. Or enjoy it while it lasts, because I'm never doing it again.

If I get a few friends, fans or family members to donate money, hair or time to Locks Of Love for me, I'll cut this stupid mop immediately as well as happily. If not, bring on the ponytail holders. Please -- somebody donate something to Locks Of Love. I hate all this hair.

(This is what I usually look like. Actually, I'm usually wearing a hat—but this is a good guess to what my hair looks like.)

Maine? Man!

Gavin Pitt — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:56:48 -0500

Bonjour, Best-Men!

Well, this week finds the Religious Rong winning another battle against love, compassion and fairness (honestly, American fundamentalist Christians seem so diametrically opposed to everything that nice Jewish boy Jesus Christ stood for they might as well just cut out the middle man and call themselves Satanists) by joining California's battle-cry of "Constitution, Schmonstitution!" and outlawing Gay Marriage in that state.

Bite my ah-yuhss, Chowdah-heads! I hope something fittingly monstrous from Maine-resident Stephen King's imagination is the reward for your bigotry.

"...I'VE GOT BALLOONS AND COTTON CANDY AND CIVIL PARTNERSHIPS..."

-Honestly, what exactly is the Wingnuts' major problem with Gay Marriage? We design your dresses, do your hair and makeup and dance in g-strings at your Hen's Nights, but we want one little ring on our finger and all of a sudden we're Gollum at Mount Doom?! A lot of fundawhackos say that Gay Marriage is forbidden by the Bible, but I don't recall seeing anything in there about "Thou shalt not get hitched to that comely gardener who looks like Justin Timberlake with a better ass if you are also packing a sausage lunch"; Jesus himself was single and unmarried, living with his parents in his thirties and often preached about being a "fisher of men"—I'm sure he would have been thrilled if Saint Peter had offered to make an even-more-honest man out of him.

"WELL SHIT.... I GUESS WE'RE HONEYMOONING IN SWEDEN"

But all the matriphonial mayhem the Religious Rong have been throwing around lately like rice at a (Straight) wedding has gotten me thinking about Gay Marriage, and the trials and tribulations that I'll have to mull over if Casey or Andrei ever pop the question to me:

PROS AND CONS OF STRAIGHT VERSUS GAY MARRIAGE :

STRAIGHT: Throwing rice outside church attracts/ hurts stomachs of local birds

GAY : Throwing rice outside church attracts Rice Queen looking for Thai Rent Boy.

STRAIGHT: Disgruntled ex posts sex-tape of groom on YouTube.

GAY: Disgruntled ex posts sex-tape of groom as critically-acclaimed series on HBO

STRAIGHT: Roses strewn in bride's path cause slipping hazard.

GAY: Sparkly rainbow glitter thrown in bride's path blinds mothers-in-law.

STRAIGHT: Bride/groom's baby sister as ring-bearer; gets nervous, cries.

GAY: Bride/Groom's white-tiger as ring-bearer; gets nervous, eats vicar.

STRAIGHT: Sailor groom can have captain perform ceremony at sea.

GAY: Sailor groom can have ceremony performed by cop, indian chief, leatherboy, construction worker.

STRAIGHT: Priest may find fault with couple, halt ceremony.

GAY: Priest may run off with groom just before ceremony

STRAIGHT: Best man loses ring

GAY: Best man loses ring inside groom's brother.

STRAIGHT: Bride/Groom's crazy ex may hold up sign: "I've always loved you, please take me back"

GAY: Crazy Reverend Fred Phelps may hold up sign: "God hates Fags Burn in Hell"

STRAIGHT: Groom's dad gets drunk before speech, embarrasses groom with tales of own first few dates with groom's mother.

GAY: Groom's dad gets drunk before speech, embarrasses groom with tales of how he only married groom's mother after being caught rimming star quarterback in locker room.

STRAIGHT: Empty tin cans tied to back of Limousine make annoying sound.

GAY: Full Amyl Nitrite poppers tied to back of Toyota Prius ignite on road, blow up passing taxicab.

STRAIGHT: Celebrity Marriage Celebrant Sharon Osbourne brings family along; Ozzy pees in punchbowl

GAY: Celebrity Marriage Celebrant Britney Spears forgets underwear; Justin Timberlake has threeway with groomsmen.

STRAIGHT: Bridesmaids fight over colour and style of dresses.

GAY: Drag bridesmaids fight over which one of them gets to be Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda.

STRAIGHT: Should Bride wear White?

GAY: Should butt-plug be glow-in-the-dark?

STRAIGHT: "Wedding March" or "Here Comes the Bride"?

GAY: ABBA's "I Do I Do I Do I Do I Do" or Meryl Streep's version?

GAY: Groom worries Best Man will tell everyone they fucked at Bachelor Party.

STRAIGHT: Groom *also* worries Best Man will tell everyone they fucked at Bachelor Party.

Why Doesn't Jadakiss Open a Checking Account?

Xavier Holland — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:31:54 -0500

As you may or may not know, I've been known to occasionally post some lyrics on this here blog. I had an idea for some, and was just listening to a few songs to orient myself in a proper cadence. Unsuprisingly, lyrics are easier to write if you have an idea of what they should sound like.

So I'm bopping along to the JoBros, Lady Gags, the usual, when I get to Jadakiss. I'm listening to his early aughts hit, "Why", when I get to the lyric that always gets me. Jada asks some prescient and hard-hitting questions beforehand: Why they never get it poppin' but they party to death? Why his diesel have fiends in the spot on the floor for days? Why did Kobe have to hit that raw? He was truly on a question-asking tear, when he gets to one that he answers himself:

"You know why they made the new 20's? Because I got all the old ones. That's why."

Far be it from me to criticize, but his question-answering leaves much to be desired.

First of all, I have an old 20. If your lyric can be easily disproved by a peek into the listener's wallet, you might have slightly overstated your wealth.

But it was hyperbole, you say. I say, fine. But that still doesn't excuse him, because it reflects a fundamental misunderstanding about the way our financial systems work. An egregious one.

If I can parse the lyric, Jadakiss apparently believes that in the event that one single person held every single bill of a particular denomination, the government wouldn't investigate this peculiar occurence, but would just begin to produce more. Furthermore, one has to wonder why, a man of such immense wealth wouldn't look into using stocks, or a bank, or even bigger bills. It seems foolhardy to keep all of your money in cash, especially when doing so can have deleterious effects on the economy it relies on.

Such deleterious effects, one might argue, that it would negatively impact the value of the bills. This isn't even taking into account the missed opportunity cost of keeping his money liquid and not investing so much as a single 20.

I've got a new lyric for you to Jadakiss:

"Why the fuck you got so many twenties/I can only surmise you didn't take Macro in college"

It doesn't rhyme, but I'm pretty sure it's more true than his.

Anyway, this was just a quick one while I write the lyrics. Those should be done tonight or tomorrow or whenver I'm not too lazy.