Simmons Unhinged

Bill Simmons--you know him for his ESPN gig on all things basketball, lots of football and a decent amount of baseball stuff--goes completely off the reservation with a blow by blow account of a recent Wrestlemania shindig before 72,000 screaming nitwits in Arizona:
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/100330. Disturbing (I think that Bill may be working through some things) but nevertheless, highly entertaining.

Reminds me a little of my misspent youth, part of it at the old Sam Houston Coliseum accompanying my seventy something year old grandmother to pro wrestling shows produced by the legendary Paul Bosch (great guy and a war hero--I met him once when my mother took me to his office after I won a tire (yes, one (1) tire) from the Bill Varley Tire Company during an intermission raffle drawing). Anyway, before going to my first show, the old man took me aside to explain that the matches were fake but that my grandmother intensely regarded them as real--granny was not a rocket scientist. Great entertainment those matches, featuring the likes of "The Iron Claw," himself, Fritz Von Erich, The Spoilers, Baron Von Rashke, Johnny Valentine, Wahoo McDaniel, Ernie Ladd, Gene Kiniski, Mil Mascaras, the odious Gary Hart, referee Johnny McShane, and many more that now escape me. Speaking of refs, before one "World Championship" bout between Von Erich and Kiniski, the Brown Bomber himself, Joe Louis, was introduced as the guest referee for the match. Even as a kid, I couldn't get over how sad Louis looked when he climbed into the ring and wondered why such a great figure in sports history would now be in such a venue as this--learned about Louis' tragic life soon after. Wrestling wasn't so obviously over the top in those days--that generation of grapplers strove much more for realism and the muscles came from lifting real weight or years of bailing hay or what have you and not out of a needle. At least, I'm pretty sure they did and they had that honest look of the kind of muscles that were used to lifting heavy objects and winning world wars.

At the risk of repeating myself (don't recall if I've disclosed this before) one of the most touching things I ever witnessed occurred before one of those Saturday night programs. Everyone rose for the national anthem and a glitch had apparently developed with the recorded music, so the ring announcer (don't remember his name) asked if the crowd would follow him with the pledge of allegiance. Recall that this was at the height of the Vietnam War protests and riots, et al--essentially the nadir of national patriotism with VC and NVA flags being waved at student protests. But not with that crowd of blue collared yokels in a smoke filled Houston arena. They belted it out--loud and proud for every shit head at Berkeley and Amherst and Lansing to hear. The kind of people who showed up at Sam Houston Coliseum every Saturday night were the simple types who were raised to do the job right the first time, respect others, and didn't think everything was about them. You know, the great unwashed who built the goddamn country and didn't expect and wouldn't take a hand out. Not without some faults--they were just a tad backward about one or two items and weren't very good company when discussing books and the theatre and were a little light on some popular social justice issues but they were damn good about stopping to help you change a flat or kicking the living shit out of some son of a bitch who had the gall to burn a flag. They're all gone, now. All gone. Replaced by those who can cry on cue ("weep" for those of you who are NYT regulars) and who receive their daily instructions from Oprah.

I blame it all on goddamn soccer. So, there.

Spring Football News

Yeah, the March Madness thing is still going on but that's just a casual distraction to those in the states of the former Confederacy that legally recognize only two sports: football and spring football, particularly the college variety. The good folks at EDSBS are on the job with an interesting report of goings on over in po' Mississippi--seems they got 'em a prize bull:

http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2010/3/30/1397459/this-years-behemoth-james-carmon

Damned kick off is still five months away and there's no way to fast forward to get there. Some physics type could make him some money if he could think a way around this.

Speaking of Tiger...

...you brought it up, Hodie:
http://msn.foxsports.com/golf/story/mistresses-ex-adviser-reveal-shocking-tiger-details. Mostly, I couldn't resist due to the accompanying pic.

The Mosher Report

Seems that Kinsey's study on women and sex was trumped by at least fifty years:
http://www.stanfordalumni.org/news/magazine/2010/marapr/features/mosher.html. She was sort of a lonely, odd duck but Dr. Clelia Mosher was able to fashion a survey of sorts and obtain some fairly frank responses regarding the sexual practices of Victorian era women. Apparently, the notion that Victorian women were mere shrinking violets when it came to bone dancing is a little off target--they appear to have had some fairly healthy attitudes regarding bedroom stuff. One of the respondents apparently suggested "better training" for men which regrettably indicates well over a hundred years since of little or no progress.

Passover...Quickly

Here's a down and dirty:
http://www.slate.com/id/2248903/. I was invited to tonight's first night of Passover by a good friend but bailed because I've got this current stomach thing that requires unexpected visits to the comfort station and I would hate to bust out in the middle of Yahweh bringing down locusts and frogs on the godless Egyptians. So, I'll miss it. Went last year and it was highly educational and well run--my friend takes his Judaism seriously and there wasn't any of this half assed Jewish shit that you see with most of your panty waisted Reform types. Even got to do a reading which went off okay which is to say I managed not to mispronounce anything too badly or egregiously fuck up. Interesting chow after the main proceedings wrapped up including lots of vegetarian stuff that tasted pretty good (anecdotal evidence points to a lot of Jews eschewing meat and Suburbans). I'll miss seeing the lovely Ashley Geller there--sorry to disappoint you,

Ashley--but there are plenty of gefelte fish in the sea, so keep swimming. Otherwise, I fully realize this is all in bad taste and guarantees a visit from the JDL but I will say that I did buy an Israeli bond last year so give me a little credit and otherwise wishing a cordial "Shalom and Happy Passover," to all and to all a good night.

Mike Penner was...sometimes a man

The bizarre story if you've never read about it:
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-sportswriter27-2010mar27,0,6006529,full.story. I'm guessing he probably wouldn't have fit in that well with the old Fort Worth crew of Sherrod, Jenkins, Shrake et al.

Bill Caswell is a Man

And, here's proof:
http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2010/3/26/1391804/the-digital-viking-edsbss-guide-to#storyjump. Further down, something about Aisha what's-her-name. You know, the Archer chick that for some reason, is melting my butter these days.

The Old Man

The old man died four years ago today; I was holding his hand when he suddenly opened his eyes and made an "umph" sound and then let out a long, last breath. He'd been in a coma for three days-- finally succumbing to small cell cancer of the lungs, something he probably got from scar tissue from when he had half of one lung removed in the late 50s; a result of Camels or sucking in smoke from fighting fires or breathing in all the chemicals from the Texas Gulf Coast or the War or all of the above. By cancer standards, his wasn't a particularly hard death: he was in a sort of morphine haze much of those last six or seven months and didn't endure a great amount of pain. I'd make the two hour drive over on most every Saturday morning during that period to cook him breakfast--he kind of liked that--then we'd chat for a spell, and then he would drift off and I would then visit with mom and do a few chores before eventually heading back.

When someone dies in your presence, it understandably takes a while to process it--the crying and hugging between relatives and friends also present--each with his or her own personal touch with the deceased and each with a unique outlook on what just happened. Someone (in this case, me) makes a call to the nice hospice people who pretty much know based on experience a general 24 hour window when death will occur. They then notify the funeral folks and both arrive at around the same time. The kind hospice lady asks where the narcotics are and then you and she both go into the bathroom where you witness her emptying the stuff into the toilet and flushing it away. You then sign something saying that she did that. The funeral home guys quietly and efficiently move the body onto their gurney and into a black, plastic zip up bag--the funny thing is that I remember that his tattooed right arm was left hanging out for some reason. He'd cautioned me as a kid never to get a tattoo in that they were "permanent." His was originally some affair dedicated to his first wife and no doubt gained via the encouragement of adult beverages while on his first Hawaii liberty call. The spot on the design where the name had originally been shown was subsequently blocked out, so the overall effect of the thing was always to me sort of a nondescript faded green blob warning of the dangers of tattooing. Guess it stuck--haven't yet got one. Anyway, the funeral guys rolled the old man out the door and down the sidewalk leading to the street and were quickly gone into the night. I stood there and surmised, "I guess this is how it all works."

I thought of the old man recently when I watched the interviews and comments of the men portrayed in the "Pacific" series running on HBO. Like them, he was a young Marine in that mess and like most of those that made it back, he did not like talking about it. I was always fascinated by World War II and military history in general and we played a sort of undeclared cat and mouse game over the years with me trying to extract information and him doing a pretty decent job of stonewalling. He'd let out a few nuggets here and there but he did not like dwelling or discussing the "bad stuff" and much preferred conferring humorous or self depreciating incidents. One of the milestones of my life was one day realizing how insensitive I was regarding what he must have endured--it was at a barbecue at my house once right after I was married. I was multi-tasking in a big way and noticed him sitting in front of the television while I was popping inside to get a tray or whatever. "Here, dad: watch this" and I casually inserted a tape I had recently found on the Tarawa Invasion in which he participated and then I went back outside to burn meat and swig brews with friends. Later, I glanced inside the sliding glass door and saw the old man crying like I had never seen him cry before--he was sobbing and my mother was doing her best to comfort him. To say I felt a little low about myself would be just a tad of an understatement. What he and other men who have been in wars never get over are the men that they knew (and didn't know) who didn't make it back. Survivor's guilt I think they call it. I don't have that about the old man but I still do think of the times when I wasn't there for him or didn't respond in kind to the affection he showed to me--a common theme with children--my own will probably one day have it (or, maybe not). Mine is the guilt of ungrateful or insensitive rotten kids.

I'll wrap this up by saying that I wish I could talk with him again. He came to me once in a dream a couple of years ago and it was startling--I'm still not sure it wasn't real and have been trying to figure it out ever since. If he were still alive, we'd have a few minutes this morning on the phone to catch up and I would probably mention the HBO series to him and he'd mumble something and deflect it away and we'd then move on to the "damn Democrats" or the "damn Astros" or the gravy mom put on his biscuits, or recollections of hunting dogs long dead but not forgotten. I would note his inflection and pronunciation of certain words ("symbol" and "emblem" always wound up as "semblem") and "police" was always, "PO-lice." I didn't like seeing him suffer and glad he went relatively easy, but I do miss the old man. Always will.

Wine and Blood

The Roman 5th Legion were masters in the art of drinkin' and fightin'
http://www.moderndrunkardmagazine.com/issues/55/55-blood-and-wine.html.

Spectator's Best Films

Stumbled upon this:
http://image.examiner.com/x-9888-Salt-Lake-City-Movie-Events-Examiner~y2009m8d3-Spectator-magazine-lists-their-50-greatest-films. It's a list of the 50 best films of all time, according to the wise and frequently hilarious old heads at The Spectator (great weekly magazine). I agree with a lot, disagree with many, haven't seen even more, and can't wait to get off of my dead ass to finally watch, "Night of the Hunter" since I keep reading how fantastic it is. Missing are several that I would put in the top 50, if not in the top 10:

"Paths of Glory"

"Dr. Strangelove": how could they have possibly missed this one?

"The Bridge on the River Kwai"

"Blazing Saddles": perfect irreverence.

There's more but I can't think of them right now due to an impending trip to the men's room.

Also, since the mag grouped both "Godfathers" together (the third one should be stricken from the record books), then I would likewise put Ford's cavalry trilogy together to fit in the top 50.

I miss ol' Ward Bond (pictured above) and, "Let us go amongst them" is one of my favorite lines from that movie. Next time you see "Taxi Driver," think about "The Searchers." Scorcese certainly did.

Fun with Art

Robert Hughes, noted art critic and bullshit spotter, gently eviscerates a Warhol collector in this short documentary excerpt:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sw1neeF_GNc. "One of the stupidest persons I've ever known," said Hughes on the artist. It's a fun five minutes to watch.

Hump Day: Post Spring Break Edition

Lots of people could use another week on the beach. With no strings attached.

Whores on the Move...

...or not really. This points out the rampant b.s. being spewed regarding sex traffic, notably at international sporting events:
http://www.spiked-online.com/index.php/behmnr/article/8324/. Not mentioned is the figure that got thrown out there several years ago that Super Bowl weekend was supposedly a banner event for wife beating. Come to find out--not true but instead, an apparently frequently used tactic by certain non-profits to insure funding and employment for gender studies majors. Guess it keeps them off the streets.

Goldberg on Obamacare

Jonah Goldberg writes one of many critiques currently out there on the hopey changey thingy that President Obama signed into law yesterday:
http://article.nationalreview.com/429059/the-reality-of-obamacare/jonah-goldberg. As Goldberg points out, there was significant bipartisan opposition and the majority of citizens polled were against it, but the Prez got it done. For whatever his faults, that was no small accomplishment on his part but he also got an assist from Bush II and prior Republican majorities who quite effectively squandered more political capital than was once thought to exist. So, I don't quite go along with the sentiment that there's widespread outrage at what just transpired. The president and the congress are reflective of the will of the voters and those voters have said that they prefer a government that more effectively governs their lives. The Euros have been doing that for some time now, enjoying excellent restaurants and public transportation (with the quiet assistance of the 10th Mountain Division and the Strategic Air Command) but let's not quibble. What America got yesterday is what America wants to be: a nation of great cable television, lots of food, fewer demands on individual accountability, and big decisions left to somebody else. That's now the American Way.

Hitchens on Priest Abuse

Yes, he's a well known hater of all things Catholic, or Christian, or even religious with a particular hard on against Mother Theresa but he brings up some points worth considering when it comes to the latest (can't this ever stop?) child abuse scandal confronting the Catholic Church:
http://www.slate.com/id/2248557/. One primary lesson from all of this is that it is never, ever a good idea to cover up something salacious--see politics, sports, etc. and the current pope may get to find out just what this means. When the truth does bust out, the shit hits the fan in a big way and right now the blades are spinning the breeze toward Rome. It's easy to pick on the fisheaters--loads of sexually maladjusted twerps have become priests but the problem exists in other denominations and on the outside where pedophiles have access to children through school and little league and what have you. I've got no tolerance for them and one strike should mean life without parole in the state prison of choice with all the rights and privileges therein. They can't be rehabilitated and it's a measure of our sense of decency as a nation to keep them away from innocents. Mr. President, you and your buds are fond of throwing the decency card down a lot--try playing it with this hand. Lots of parents and their children would appreciate it.

Arts Beat

Wolfgang Wagner, grandson of Richard Wagner, sleeps with the valkyries:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/23/arts/music/23wagner.html. Colorful family, the Wagners: productions featuring strippers, male nudity, plastic phalli, etc. along with lots of Nazis, hanging with Hitler, obligatory homosexuality, invading Poland, big family arguments, and probable fetish enthusiasts. The annual family Oden Day dinner must have been great fun.

Mrs. Bulba had an uncle who was an opera singer of some note--he sang all across Europe and with the Met in Nuevo York and even married a really, really strange German model who looked like she just walked off a Wagner set. Anyway, he spent most of his career in Germany and even became noted for his mastery of a Bavarian accent which I guess is different than a Berlin accent and most certainly some distance apart from a San Benito, Texas accent which is where he was from--the world is a curious place. The guy had loads of fun in his life, being a committed heterosexual in the theatrical community--don't have to draw you a picture on this--he was quite popular with the frauleins. He even ended up owning an inn on the island of Elba where he had a sailing school for Germans thawing out from winter and the occasional American seeking Euro-fun. Too bad Tio Elfego up and died--he would have no doubt had lots to say about Wolfgang and the merry Wagners and most of it would have been a little more colorful than what you get from the NYT.

Rubicon Crossed...

...according to VDH:
http://www.victorhanson.com/articles/hanson032210.html. Yes, he's a jack booted, capitalist running dog tool but he brings up some points that are worth thinking about. Please note that a Google image search turned up a helluva lot of creative pictures of Speaker Pelosi than the one I used. At least give me some credit on that.

The Life After Death Thing

Apparently, arch atheist, A.J. Ayer saw the light, or at least some kind of light:
http://www.laphamsquarterly.org/roundtable/roundtable/an-atheist-meets-the-masters-of-the-universe.php. According to the article, he was a typical, mean spirited, crabby, garden variety dick up until that point. You know, like most atheists. I much prefer the hopeful types exiting the 10AM mass on Sundays. Sure, they are grappling with matters of faith before shutting off further internal debate unless it gets too messy in favor of where to go for barbecue but they're always more pleasant than the beetle browed scolds that scoff at anyone not driving a Prius. Kind of like my next door neighbors that own not one, but two Priuses (Prii?) after their rabbi called for those of his reform congregation to get rid of the evil SUVs and other vestiges of a non-green existence. Apparently, I'm told that most reform Jews are secular in matters of traditional faith but have gone in whole hog in terms of adherence to their new mantra of environmentalism. This has been going on for some time now and it's by now means limited to Jews--hell, most of the Euros are full blown followers of the new religion. Wonder if they'll see a light when the end comes? Or, maybe they'll instead just smell some compost.

It's the great mystery, isn't it?

Gutfeld Explains Men and Women

http://dailygut.com/. Mrs. Bulba and I were discussing this last evening. She's a little more practical than artist types, so the "guy used to sleep with a porn star" thing would have been in the red flag area for her, rather than the "emotional adventure" category that seems to have swept up poor Sandra.

Noonan

Talks about the health bill, the Fox interview, and the president:
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704207504575130081383279888.html. The last paragraph is worth thinking about.

On a related note, Noonan was probably pretty hot back in her more yuteful days. Just saying.

Mean Green

A study finds that green consumer types are assholes:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2010/mar/15/green-consumers-more-likely-steal/ I have enough experience being around green types at various greencentric venues to believe every freaking word of this story. You'll always find a helluva lot more civility in the Wal-Mart meat section or strolling down the Academy ammunition aisle.

Fess Parker

Dead:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35935201/ns/entertainment-television/. By all accounts, a pretty nice Texas boy who made good. Disney used to re-run "Davy Crockett" from time to time when I was a kid and all of us watched "Daniel Boone" each week. The article points out that he was discovered by the actor, Adolph Menjou. Watch Menjou in "Paths of Glory." He's very good in it.

RIP, Fess. You did your part in keeping the raccoon population in check.

That Ebert Guy

I was reading that thing over at Deadspin detailing Tiger Wood's texts to one of the porn babes he was drilling when I saw this:
http://deadspin.com/5482198/my-roger-ebert-story?skyline=true&s=i. It's by Will Leitch where he describes the kindness and the nature of Roger Ebert and how he rewarded that by turning on the guy. Pretty good story. It's tough for me to look at Ebert now, with the disfigurement he has suffered due to cancer but I do hope he continues writing. I didn't always agree with him but he is one of the few guys out there who speaks and writes without either talking down or below his audience. That's a rare quality.

Spinning Yarns

Interesting look at four well known tales:

http://laphamsquarterly.org/visual/assets_c/2010/03/Spring2010Map-1211.php. I wonder if Melville really was inspired by other leviathan stories, outside of Jonah. I used to also think that Moby Dick was a little out there until reading Heart of the Sea and its description of a whale taking out the Essex as well as incidents of whales ramming naval vessels in WWII. Anyway, I never finished reading Moby, but enjoyed Well's film treatment--it's got a great look and Peck was damn good as Ahab.

Advice from Nina

I don't know how in the hell I came across this, but apparently Nina Hartley was just at the SXSW thingy in Austin and here she dispenses wisdom on love, sex, and all sorts of interesting stuff:
http://www.brobible.com/Story/113015. Read up. You can learn something from a gal like Nina. She's been around a little.

Hump Day: St. Paddy's Edition

Big day for Guinness and wearing green. We suggest avoiding the cabbage, though.

The Arab World

A fairly long, scholarly survey of what's transpired in the Arab world and what's brewing today:
http://www.wilsoncenter.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=wq.essay&essay_id=603733. Author, David Ottaway has been a spectator for a long time and was even present when Sadat was assassinated. I guess one could say that the state of affairs is just a bit turbulent and will remain so for a long time. Too many uneducated people and too much influence by those who enjoy channeling jobless young men toward mischief in order to benefit their nut job world view. Also, in my humble opinion, too many educated Arabs around the world who choose not to speak out against the hijacking of both their religion and the future of their native lands.

Life in Academia

Academic snobs and the tenure concept explained:
http://incharacter.org/observation/snobs-in-the-groves-of-academe/. Essentially, according to the author, tenure makes some sense when it comes to the hard sciences where actual stuff is being discovered, understood, etc. as opposed to the humanities where professorial types attempt to justify their existence by reinventing a wheel that's already been spun a time or two. There's obviously an opposite point of view here that's not represented--the freedom to loudly descent and proclaim outrageous positions crowd. Only thing is that these folks don't seem to be exactly that far out of what passes for mainstream thought on a lot of campi. I don't know--I'm disgusted and outraged by a lot of shit that gets spewed by professor types but I've never taken them that serious, thinking that if they were really good at what they were doing, they would be doing it in the private sector. But, that's the capitalist running dog coming out in me. Talking with them is often very similar to when you're visiting with someone in the religion bidness--you make some deferential comments in their direction and take a circuitous path around the big ass gorilla sitting in the middle of the room. Just isn't worth waking the thing up.

For the record, I never had a class with the professor pictured above. Damn registrar's office.

More on Hanks

Hanson expounds above and beyond what I wrote last week on the lunacy of Tom Hanks
http://www.victorhanson.com/articles/hanson031310.html. Jackass.

Honey Traps

A round up of some better known honey trap stories:
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2010/03/12/the_history_of_the_honey_trap. Tom Clancy does a great job at describing the art of the honey trap in his book, "The Cardinal of the Kremlin." In fact, it's a fascinating overall look at spy craft--the setting of drops and all that neat spook stuff. Honey traps have to be one of the easiest gigs to pull off--both men and women (especially men) can be had very easily when it comes to sex. According to spymasters; for men, it simply takes an attractive woman showing interest in them and it won't be long for the physical act to occur and the summary blackmail that will follow. For women, typically a little longer--the romance deal will need to play out for a while before she's in the sack. Speaking of romance, I've got the anniversary thing with the missus tomorrow and it's one of the big ones. Ask her about honey traps--she'll probably say I went down without a shot being fired.

Tales from the Arctic

http://thefastertimes.com/slowtravel/2010/03/11/is-your-workplace-as-rough-as-the-arctic/. I never, ever want to go there.

Wonderlic News

Tebow apparently scored low on the 12 minute Wonderlic, no doubt hindered by his study partner on the right. Here are the results:
http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/draft10/news/story?id=4984943. Interesting on the other quarterbacks shown, both the current crop of 2010 draftees and great quarterbacks of both the past and present. Bradford is in at 35--that's damn smart. I think that Vince Young was around 10 or so. Lots of NFL greats scored pretty low which indicates that a quick release and zip on the ball will overcome a poor command of synonyms.

More on Confidential

David Thomson opines that the new book on the defunct Confidential Magazine misses the point or glazes over the real stories of golden era Hollywood:
http://www.tnr.com/book/review/chinatown. He also takes a few shots at James Ellroy, a writer that impressed the hell out of me but Thomson finds unappealing. To each his own. I'm guessing that Thomson has a lot of purple in his closet. NTTAWWT. He mentions that Mitchum took a leak on a fellow actor's car one evening. In Hollywood pissing lore, that pales in comparison to John Wayne urinating into Ward Bond's whiskey flask. John Ford loved Wayne from then on.

Flo and Other Possibly Irrational Thoughts

I've always thought that the actress who plays "Flo" in the Progressive Insurance commercials would have about thirty or so tattoos, numerous piercings in the lady parts, and at least two hundred sexual encounters--most with very overweight hipster guys on a hideously stained couch in a rental house near a large university that smelled like old bong water. Guess I'm not correct on that:
http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20301774,00.html?xid=rss-fullcontent. Other stuff that proves there is something wrong with me:

1. I've decided that I don't like basketball. I played it and have watched it my entire life but now would rather do most anything other than take in a game. I blame it on the baggy shorts.

2. I still insist on using a paper calendar even though I've got a calendar staring straight at me on my computer and one on my iPhone. I cross off each day but will not do so until the morning of the next day. This is sort of like not touching the baselines when going to and from the field in baseball.

3. I won't eat a banana if its bruised or overly spotted. I will, however, put the same in a protein shake.

4. If presented with a berry cobbler, I will eat the entire contents regardless of size at one sitting or before the end of that day. I am not interested in sharing it, either.

5. I find Tina Fey disturbingly provocative.

6. I am reasonably sure that Sen. Harry Reid has some type of really weird sexual fetish or perversion. Of course, this isn't exactly novel in his line of work.

7. I have a recurring dream that I suddenly recall that I own a second home. I go to check it out and find that it is an old frame house that sits unoccupied on a corner in a not so nice part of town. I go into the house and it has 60s era furniture and appliances and for some reason, a basement. The basement is much larger than the house and there is a wide hall running down the middle with a succession of rooms on each side. At the end of the hallway, a light is on in one of the rooms and it is evident that someone is in there. Creeps me out.

8. I have waded through more gore from eviscerating game and fish than most and have bled like a stuck hog from numerous mishaps but getting pricked with a needle always gets me light headed. Embarrassing.

9. Unlike Fey, there are numerous Hollywood starlets that are considered bombshells that I find utterly unattractive and unappealing. Cameron Diaz is one. Jennifer Garner, another.

That's enough for now. I'll save the really bad stuff for another time.

Official: Tom Hanks is a Goddamned Idiot

http://hotair.com/archives/2010/03/09/tom-hanks-on-wwii-we-wanted-to-annihilate-the-japanese-because-they-were-different/. Hanks has been spewing some political mush for some time now but he's gone completely ape shit stupid with his wide eyed assertions of how Americans, or more specifically, U.S. Marines and other American combat troops regarded the Japanese during the late unpleasantness in the Pacific. Yes, Tom, they didn't care for the Japanese--you see, there were these things called "atrocities" that had been committed by the Japanese and they sort of upset the young men who were sent out to check the Greater Asiatic Co-Prosperity Sphere. Tom, it also might be news to you, but the Japanese were (and in many ways still are) highly racist in their attitudes toward the occidentals--you can read up on that between lunches in L.A. Finally, Mr. Hanks, it's never a great idea to judge people of a prior era based on your own current sensibilities--chances are, you yourself will look pretty damn foolish when viewed fifty or sixty years from now. It might surprise you, but a lot of people that you probably think highly (Lincoln, FDR, Castro, etc.) had some ideas toward other races that would shock or at least throw you off kilter at your next Scientology confab.

If my old man were still alive, this kind of shit would absolutely leave him snot slinging mad and pretty much ruin any chance of him viewing, "The Pacific" or anything having to do with Hanks or fellow limp wrister, Spielberg. I knew him and a lot of other guys who fought in the Pacific and they hated the Japanese because the Japanese had decided to hate us and proved it by torturing* and killing our guys--they didn't have anything personal against them prior to the war. He didn't have any problem with them afterwards and even liked their cars. Goddamn, Tom, is that so hard to comprehend? I know it doesn't match up to your preconceived notions from the crowd you hang with but you maybe should get out more.

*Torture, meaning cutting off heads, savagely beating people to death, starving them, working them to death as opposed to Hank's torture definition which includes slapping, using bad language, and denying fresh produce and new Korans.

True Grit Redux

The Coen Brothers are going to remake "True Grit:"
http://www.cinemablend.com/new/Script-Reaction-The-Coens-True-Grit-Remake-16379.html. From what this guy says, the Coen's aren't going to really change much--in fact, they're allegedly going to even keep most of the same dialogue. Some thoughts:

1. As borne out by his recent Oscar winning performance and a slew of other stuff, Bridges will be as good a choice as there is out there to play Rooster Cogburn; if you saw Bridges in "Wild Bill," you'll know he's got the demeanor to lock up any Western role. That said, this ain't any role, it's John Wayne's Oscar role. I watched True Grit again recently and it's remarkable how Wayne carried that entire enterprise from start to finish. Yeah, Duvall is in it, but everything centers around Wayne and he's dominant throughout. Just hoping that Bridges can pull it off.

2. The Mattie Ross role is apparently to be greatly expanded. My only hope is that the new young actress playing Mattie is better, or at least less overly obnoxious than was Kim Darby. Watching the original, there are many times when I wish that Mattie (Ms. Darby) could be hit with a stray bullet or stampeded or die quickly from the Yellow Jack or something only to just go away. Not as bad as Sophia Coppolla in GF III but there's a reason you didn't see more of her after her turn as young Mattie.

3. Obnoxious Red Sox fan (is there any other kind?) and political windbag Matt Damon is to play Texas Ranger, La Boeuf. Pretty much anyone will be better than Glen Campbell but it would have been a lot more fun to see another Matt, real life Texan Matthew McConnaghey (sp) in that role.

4. The Duvall role is apparently going to Josh Brolin. Fine, Josh. Do good and ask your old man how in the hell he can take waking up next to Babs every morning. She's pretty much arm gnawing material according to the National Enquirer photos I see at the HEB checkout.

Favorite Positions...

...and get your mind out of the gutter. EDSBS has something on the type of player that seems to come out of certain schools each and every year:
http://www.everydayshouldbesaturday.com/2010/3/8/1362458/positions-that-never-change-by#storyjump. I know you're missing football in a big way, so chew on it. To the list they could add:

Texas: physical god like specimen at wide receiver with physical un-god like ability to actually catch a pass (see Williams, Roy--now infecting the Dallas Cowboys--and the entire 2009 Longhorn receiving corps with the exception of white guy Jordan Shipley who wasn't tall but could catch the damn ball and had rippling biceps that made Mr. Bulba's teenage daughter and every other female within 5oo miles get all flittery).

Texas A&M: great athletes with great, vast barren areas inside their skulls.

Oklahoma: great athletes who will one day attempt to sell you a car at one of a hundred or so auto dealerships in the Greater Dallas Metroplex and can direct and coach you on strip club etiquette, regardless of the market.

Baylor: great punters who get a lot of reps. Kickers are notable for being able to play for most 4A programs in the state.

Texas Tech: lots of pretty decent white players who know how to play dirty, can wear their ball caps backwards with the best of them, and have fat little girlfriends.

Stossel on Prohibition

Says that drugs, prostitution and selling a kidney should be legal:
http://reason.com/archives/2010/03/04/keep-your-laws-off-my-body/. The statistics he cites on those who have tried meth and crack versus those addicted are interesting. As parents, are our fears of a child becoming addicted to dangerous drugs irrational? Maybe. I see where Stossel is going or coming from but I would have a hard time going along with making cocaine or meth legal. Is that rational if one agrees with pot being legalized? Don't know. Something to think about.

Helmets

One of many interesting sites devoted to football helmets:
http://www.helmethut.com/. Sports uniforms are interesting. A trend over the last ten or so years are "throwback" days where teams will don uniforms that the school or pro franchise wore in a prior era. Sometimes forgetful or even hideous but also occasionally superior to what the team is wearing now. A sterling example are the original powder blue San Diego Chargers jerseys with the gold stripes, along with the white helmet with the yellow lightning bolt. Dazzling. Apparently, however, the team's owner prefers the rather dull navy blue jerseys adopted during his tenure. A shame but it's his toy. I don't know if this is age talking (probably is) but it seems that the best unis are most often the simplest and with only a single color to go with white (or gold). Especially the case in college football--Bama and Texas looked great with their simple and distinctive uniforms at the national championship game. I find pro soccer uniforms an abomination--the team's logo is a small crest worn over the left chest, otherwise the jersey is a mishmash of garish advertising--hope American sports never adopt that look. Also, can't stand the current baggy, below the knee shorts trend in basketball. They look clownish (again, age talking). Best uniforms? Baseball in my humble opinion. I enjoy college football more than anything but to have worn a major league baseball uniform is in my book, the epoch. Would have traded at least one testicle for the privilege.

Evolutionary Truth in Romance

Apparently, romance novels match up well with current evolutionary thinking:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/mar/04/evolutionary-psychologists-romantic-fiction. Essentially, a common theme in the genre is that you'll find lots of sheriffs, doctors, cowboys who are all brave, handsome, strong, smart and interested in finding just the right woman and no other.

When I was a kid, I recall my mother reading harlequin romance books and I was somewhat fascinated with the covers--a rugged guy with some of his shirt missing looking down at the swooning form of an attractive gal showing something that I later learned was termed as, "cleavage." Great stuff, that cleavage and I've been an appreciative fan ever since. You used to have to go to the movies (or examine your mom's romance novel) to see cleavage--it just didn't show up in the general population. Now, the stuff is everywhere and you even see it at church or a similar setting and it will play hell on your concentration. I'll be kneeling after receiving communion and thinking thoughtful thoughts when all of a sudden I'll spot a fellow parishioner making her way back to the pews with folded hands and flowing cleavage and all of those rightful sentiments immediately evaporate in a cloud of lechery. It's a powerful thing, the strategically positioned female bosom and most women are very much aware of its power--men will perform the most silly tasks (home, car, diamond purchases, etc.) under its influence. Attending a black tie affair of some sort these days will bring out a virtual parade of cleavage and it's awkward many times conversing with a woman that you know from a fairly conservative setting and suddenly she's standing directly in front of you with two fairly obvious features that command obvious attention. Most of the time, you just babble and attempt to not overtly stare and then make up something when the missus later asks what was being discussed. Anyway, I'm fairly enthusiastic about the concept and once again happy I'm not Amish.

New Take on the Big Ten

Talking about the commandments, not the conference and Hitchens weighs in with his typical dose of brilliance combined with a fairly restrained (for him) critique of Yahweh and His adherents:
http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2010/04/hitchens-201004?printable=true.

Hitchens isn't breaking any new ground when he asserts that the commandments were written by and for a nomadic society concerned with agrarian details and close quarters living arrangements. That's how the "coveting your neighbor's ass" thing got in there, though you could probably argue that it's highly applicable to 21st century living only with a different posterior in mind. 19th century Texans and others had concerns about rustling, with summary death imposed on offenders--a prime example of the kind of thing that's highly important to a people living on the edge. Today, I'd like to see something adopted about shitheads driving slow in the passing lane (maybe lashing would work) but would prefer easing restrictions on the coveting of various lady parts.

Peace be with you.

Huguette

Nice little story with pictures of Huguette Clark, daughter of robber baron William Clark, and still alive at age 103:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/35266269/ns/business-picture_stories/?GT1=43001. She's got tons of art work, etc. sitting in mansions that haven't been occupied in decades. The one pictured here hasn't been occupied since 1963 but is apparently maintained on a daily basis along with the vintage cars sitting in the garage. Spooky in a way.

Vintage Grocery

Grocery store photos from the 50's and 60's:
http://assemblyman-eph.blogspot.com/2009/06/vintage-grocery-store-displays.html. Some random grocery store memories from my misspent youth:

1. Children being spanked in the grocery aisle. A common occurrence that wouldn't receive much of any attention--everyone, including other children, assumed it was justly deserved.

2. Milk sold in glass gallon containers with paper tops. More times than not, you would see glass all over the floor from a just dropped container.

3. Smoking. Everywhere. By most everyone.

4. Colored Easter chicks sold at the checkout. It was a hard life for them.

5. Turning in soda bottles for the return deposit. A considerable amount of summer hours were spent hunting and collecting them.

Legal Weed, Etc.

For a while now, I've been inclined to think that marijuana should be de-criminalized (whatever that means) if not legalized. This guy used to think the same, but now feels pot should stay illegal due to potential long term ill effects, namely schizophrenia:
http://pajamasmedia.com/blog/why-i-no-longer-support-decriminalizing-marijuana/?singlepage=true. I knew guys in college who smoked weed regularly and it was easy to observe that they had definitely lost their edge and didn't have the same drive of their non or occasional pot using peers. No doubt if you use pot regularly from a relatively early age and possibly have a few loose issues up top, the stuff will have an ill effect on your well being. That said, I'm not sure that negates other arguments for marijuana's legalization, namely that were spending a gillion or so dollars to fight something that a gillion or so people like doing with a gillion or so bad guys getting rich in the process. Still haven't formulated a definitive "yea" or "nay" in my own mind, but I'm listening.

There was a primary election in Texas on Tuesday and I voted in it. I'd like to say that I was happy with the party ballot that I elected to participate but that would be far from the truth. In fact, the older I get the less I like about what I see. It's essentially come down to me identifying a few core issues that I think are important overall and holding my nose during the rest of the process. I'm guessing that is fairly typical of many voters--they aren't that fond of what they see coming out of a party whose candidate they're voting for and are really not all that happy with the candidate him or herself. What's clear is that the primaries bring out the fringe nabobs from both sides of the spectrum and voters in the later general election are in many cases left with choices that are highly lacking. An example would be the fifteen state school board positions. From the far right, you get guys like a Bryan dentist who thinks that people and dinosaurs roamed the earth together or the evils of fluoridation types or those otherwise interested in praying a lot. On the left, you get the historical revisionist crowd that won't rest until each and every pigment disadvantaged individual has pissed on his or her ancestors' graves and at least one school in each district is named after Che Guevara while all the while throwing money high into the air. What you don't get much are people interested in what's important (learning) as opposed to peripherals. For once, I'd like to see someone on the board who is sensible enough to say that shoving money into new buildings doesn't come close to measuring up to effective teaching and solid parental support while at the same time urging those with a wack job social agenda to go piss up a rope.

Maybe some day. Maybe not.

Hump Day: Texas Independence Edition

Forgot to put my Lone Star banner out yesterday on Texas Independence Day. At least, I didn't hang it incorrectly like I saw on the news coverage of the Bill White rally last night. Jee-zus, that's just plain awful and indicative of too many Yankees on your campaign staff. Get that straightened out, Bill. The way Rick Perry plowed Senator Kay Bailey last night (no sexual innuendo intended), you'll need all the help you can get come November.

Confidential

Interesting story on the defunct gossip rag, Confidential:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=123584348. Like the Enquirer today, it seems they were usually largely accurate in their reporting (see Edwards, Piece of Shit John). My mother used to embarrass the crap out of me buying the Enquirer or like scandal sheets at the grocery store and then in later years by sweetly demanding that I pick one up for her on the way over for a visit. Nothing quite says, "This guy is a tool" like laying down a copy of the Star on the conveyor belt. Unless, of course, it's accompanied by cat food and feminine hygiene products.

Mrs. Bulba has an uncle who is a former Hollywood type and has gobs of gossip stories from his days in the acting bidness. One favorite is him riding around town with Jack Palance, with Big Jack casually pointing out various hotels/motels they would pass by as the scene of his encounters with various well known actresses. I'll just say that Jack was a helluva player. Speaking of Palance, I read recently that a reporter asked him (a year or so before he died) what picture got his Oscar vote and Palance replied that he gave his ballot to a niece and let her fill it out. I think about that each year while I'm shaking my head at not only what and who gets nominated along with the eventual "winner." That's the way it works out there. BTW, I've been watching "Southland" on TBS (it's a police drama set in L.A.) and I give it a thumbs up. Not too bad, thus far.

On Rainbows

Not the kind in the sky but the slippery ones:
http://chronicle.com/article/One-Strange-Fish-Tale/64348/. The book argues that the world went crazy overboard in stocking rainbow trout and the result is that native fisheries have suffered. It's a complicated issue.

My only experience in catching rainbows has sadly been those temporary pools set up at outdoor shows, where children are given a rod with a tiny hook and a speck of yellow bait on the end. Sort of fun to see your kids come away with a successful landing but the overall experience has always been pathetic to me--it's not a proud moment for the trout, hoisted up for all to see and returned to live the fate all over again in the glorified wading pool.

They release rainbows in various rivers and lakes in Texas each winter and people enjoy catching them and the trout certainly do justice to a skillet. However, it's rare that a rainbow survives the hellish summer months as water temps go above and beyond their comfort range, or they're assaulted by floating pods of fire ants from occasionally heavy spring rains. For most Texans, trout means the coastal variety, the speckled trout which is prized for its fighting ability and delicate flesh. A 25 to 35 inch "momma" trout is about as good as it gets for shallow water fishermen--I know many who will eschew any other variety to hunt them. I can hardly call myself a fisherman now since I haven't been in over a year and would have difficulty rounding up my gear if invited but I used to catch a fair amount. In fact, I once had a lifetime trout within my grasp during the final hours of a tournament, only to see the monster spit the lure as I landed her. Cost me some cash, too. It's like they say: you remember the one that got away and I've never forgotten that fish. A great, great fight that I thought I had won only to see it drift away at the end. Like a lot of things in life, I'm afraid.

I've got a lot of fishing stories but not enough time. We'll save 'em for later when I'm in a proper mood for lying.

New Peeps

You can get chocolate covered Peeps now:
http://www.thebigmoney.com/blogs/daily-bread/2010/03/01/chocolate-covered-peeps-are-here. Not for me, though--I like the original version. To be honest, I have a problem with Peeps in the sense that I can achieve no sense of balance with its sugary marshmallow goodness. I can't just have one or two; knocking out a box of them is not even close to a problem. In fact, quickly working through two in a sitting is easy--the only problem is the sense of self loathing afterwards, especially if you also find yourself drinking a beer during the process. Pathetic. The same with DQ; I can't have just a small vanilla cone or small shake--I MUST order the largest size available. In fact, that's the language that I employ when ordering to dispel any confusion on the part of stalwart DQ employees.

Back to Peeps--the Easter season is the traditional time for gorging on Peeps but they've expanded on the popularity of the insidious things by selling Peeps at Halloween and Christmas, too. I can usually do without them during those times with all of the other sugary offerings available but Lent is my downfall. Sort of biblical when I think about it.

Drag Racing

It appears that the long held belief that J. Edgar Hoover was a cross dresser may be bunk:
http://thesmartset.com/article/article02221001.aspx. Whatever the case, he was one dapper G-man. Dapper isn't a word you hear much anymore. Sort of like, typing paper which I actually asked an employee for this morning, instead of copier paper. Man, that was a red flag on aging--I'm officially done. I'll probably be searching for the Ethel pump the next time I fill up.

Weekend Review

Did the "official college visit" deal with daughter #2 this past Friday and it sounds like she's ready to sign on the dotted line. It's the same school that I attended back in the FORTRAN punch card era and walking around the place brought back more than one or two memories. If you've gone on one of these things before (and we've attended a lot), it's a predictable drill. First, you're welcomed to an auditorium and shown some slick testimonial piece featuring a lot of happy, multicultural faces extolling why they chose good ol' College U and found karma and reason for living (while not mentioning on camera the hot guys/chicks and parties) . Then, a personal welcome by some happy recruiting office type informing why they are delighted for us to be there and why our group represents the best and the brightest and that kind of smack followed by instructions on where to meet our campus tour guide. We then rallied outside by the founder's statue; a grim, dour old guy who obviously suffered from piles and consumption and maybe the Yellow Jack before keeling over from the pox or lye enemas or something. Our guide was an ex-jock now working for the university who was a little light on details (he was off by about a hundred years in terms of the school's founding) and heavy on the use of "that's cool" and "amazing" (see blog entry from last year in which I ragged about the excessive use of this adjective). Essentially, the university is amazingly cool. Anyway, it was freezing outside and daughter #2 and Mrs. Bulba were ready to call it a day by 2pm or so. Fortunately, no certified checks had to be signed.

Saturday was gorgeous--read the paper, worked out and then played golf (badly). Made it home to discuss movie options with the missus (it was her "turn") and the intention was to see "The Last Station" but the first showing wasn't until 7:30pm and anything related to Tolstoy, no matter how entertaining, tends to put me in a deep, Russian sleep. So, we looked to see what was showing at around 5pm and the fateful decision was made to take in, "Valentine's Day." If you are a guy, let me be brief about this: for the love of all that is dear and holy in your life, do not see this movie even if it means you will not receive any type of sexual favors for one (1) year. That may sound harsh, but hear me out. I went fully knowing that it was a chick flick but thought that I could pretty much tolerate it and then afterwards, flush it out of my system after a stop for appetizers and drinks and then back to the casa for fun and games. Wrong. Highly Wrong. Categorically wrong. Tragically wrong. The type of wrong that had this been a war, thousands of lives would have been lost wrong. Wrong in the sense that if there had been a guy walking up and down the theater aisle offering violent, coma inducing smacks to the head with a two by four for five hundred bucks I would have gladly paid it wrong. The movie siphons whatever energy and life that exists in your body and jettisons it to Cloth World or wherever Hell currently resides--I could barely lift my head to drive home afterwards. Hideous beyond belief and a cinematic suckfest that makes a moody French art film offering on even keel with the first twenty minutes of "Saving Private Ryan." Anyone and everyone associated with the production of this movie should be sent to a North Dakota work camp--a work camp featuring ceaseless beet farming and dung gathering where infomercials featuring Joy Behar and Sarah Palin are broadcast on a continuous loop and where inmates must battle face ripping chimpanzees for food pellets. The story is beyond sappy with grating and irritating performances turned in by: Jennifer Garner (has a facial expression of someone who has never had a decent bowel movement), Anne Hathaway (can't she just go somewhere and be a vegan truck stop prostitute for the rest of her life?), Ashton Kutcher (Demi: please don't let him out of your sight ever again--wear the dog collar or whatever ), George Lopez (playing the part of the "magical Latin guy" to dispense wisdom to the witless Kutcher), Taylor Swift (so unflinchingly bad that she alone proves without question that country music has hit toxicity levels previously thought unreachable), Shirley MacLaine (in a part that was so awful that you can clearly read her expression of "Now I fully understand why there are no decent parts for older actresses" combined with, "Had I brought the revolver, I could have taken out Garry Marshall and saved the world from this shit ever hitting the screen") and the always insidious Julia Roberts who was actually the shining light of the enterprise due to her rather limited on screen time. Lastly, in deference to stuff related to minors and the innocent and all that I won't get into the kid parts prominently featured other than to say the child actors used are just not being spanked enough and with the right type of vigor. In short, I didn't like it.

Mrs. Bulba and Future Collegiate Daughter attended some type of "mother/daughter tea" thing on Sunday afternoon that I don't even want to know about, so I used that as an opportunity to see "Shutter Island" as the missus indicated a strong disinterest in getting anywhere close to it. Therefore, I was the creepy old guy sitting alone in the middle of the theater, armed with a large popcorn and coke and the minimum two spaces vacant on each side of him. Yeah, that guy. Anyway, I like Scorsese and the movie had some good touches but he didn't do a stellar job in tying it all together. Okay, but all in all, disappointing. Lots of Hitchcock renderings but just didn't hit the notes. That said, I wouldn't have payed someone to knock me out.

Then, after dinner last night, watched the whole damn entirety on TCM of "Ben Hur" including the chariot race. Daughter #2 asked, "Who's the hottie with the body?" when she saw the hunky Heston in his galley slave kit--hope that made Charlton happy in heaven's firing range.

There's more but you kind of get the general idea.