A Fiscal Cliffmas Miracle

So a deal has been reached and the US economy has averted (for now) the fiscal cliff. I don't know the terms of the deal, but let's all be certain of one thing: we may not be going over the cliff, but we're still heading into the canyon.

Our government cannot keep spending more than they're taking in, period. Furthermore, balancing the budget isn't good enough. We need drastic budget cuts to eliminate the budget deficit, produce a surplus, and start paying down the unsustainable national debt.

I'm going to say something that may destroy my credibility as a fiscal conservative: I was almost ready to go over the fiscal cliff. Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe that Washington doesn't have a revenue problem, it has a spending problem. But if I thought for a second that a tax increase and mandatory budget cuts would put us on the right track, I'd fall in line, suck it up, and pay.

America is in a hole. We've already got the wealthy paying way more than a fair share. Middle class families are paying their way. Let's start getting something out of the folks who aren't kicking in anything. 47% of Americans pay no income taxes. That is an immense, untapped tax base. Let's get some cash out of them.

Anyway, maybe it's the few cups of cheer I've had this evening, but I'm rambling.

Merry Fiscal Cliffmas. God bless us, everyone.

Why Going Over the Fiscal Cliff Is Exactly What Congress and the White House Want

Most of us are hoping for a swift solution to the looming "fiscal cliff." In my opinion, you can just keep on hoping, because nobody is going to do anything to prevent it.

Let's go back. Last August, Washington was embroiled in a fight regarding the raising of the debt ceiling. As part of the legislation passed which ultimately raised the debt ceiling, automatic budget cuts were included and set to take place on January 1 of 2013 if no budget cuts could be agreed to before then.

Now I'm all for budget cuts, but there is also a key piece of legislation still yet to be sorted out: the expiration of the current AMT thresholds.

AMT (Alternative Minimum Tax) was developed to make sure that wealthy taxpayers didn't benefit too much from the normal tax code and were made to pay more if their income was over a certain threshold, which has been adjusted, or "patched," to account for inflation.

If Washington fails to act on AMT, the thresholds will revert to the 2000 tax year income levels. For single filers: from $50,600 to $33,750. For married filing jointly: from $78,750 to $45,000. This means that AMT will catch a vast number of filers it was never meant to: middle class filers. Add this in with other tax increases (expiration of the Bush tax cuts that were extended in 2010, Obamacare, etc.) and American taxpayers will be toting lighter wallets in 2013.

Now, why won't Washington do anything? Because this is exactly what everyone in Congress and the White House wants to happen.

Think about it. Without action, on January 1: Americans will be paying higher taxes, budgets will be cut, and both sides of Washington will be able to point across the aisle and say it was the other side's fault. Bases will be galvanized and since we just had elections, no one in Washington will be up for reelection until 2014.

Get ready America. We're going over.

Name Change

It's the end of an era. I have made the executive decision to change the name of our beloved blog.

Truth be told, I have hated the name Beef O'Bloggy's since the moment I said it out loud over flat beers and suspect chicken fingers at Beef O'Brady's in March of this year.

Open Field Tackle came to me over coffee this morning. It's a vague, generic name which could convey, "hey, we're not afraid to tackle the issues or whatever."

What I like most about the new name is that it doesn't say what Beef O'Bloggy's did, which is, "hey, our blog name is stupid."

What can you expect as a faithful reader? The exact same sparse content under a newer, less offensive name. That's our promise to you.

Twinkies

Here we go again. The world has lost something and now it's up to us
to have feelings about it. It's Amy Winehouse all over again.

In this case, it's the Hostess snack cake company; specifically the
Twinkie. No one really cared about Twinkies until we learned Hostess
was shutting down and I'll tell you why: the Twinkie is a sub-par
snack cake. It's filler. It's fluff with a creamy filling. People
only get Twinkies when there are no Little Debbies around. You want a
good snack cake? Get a Fudge Round, a Star Crunch, or a Zebra Cake
like a good American.

The bottom line is, we're still fat Americans and someone will start
making Twinkies again, but step up your snack game people. Life is
short.

A Brief Breakdown of All Instagram Content

Questions To Ask During Every Job Interview

For those who don't know, today is my last day at my current job. I
start the new job on Thursday and I'm really excited about it. By
doing some research, I was able to do really well in the interview.
So now, I'd like to share a few good questions every candidate should
ask during their interview, because the only thing worse than dumb
questions is no questions.

1. "How would you describe your management style?"

This question shows you are focused on getting to know your boss.
Find out who your boss is, find out what they want, and give it to
them.

2. "Thinking back to those previously in this position, are there any
that really stand out and what made them so outstanding?"

This is a great question. It shows that you're not only interested in
obtaining the job, but you're focused on performing successfully.

3. "Are there any reservations you have about my fit for this position
that I may be able to address while I'm here?"

This is the money question. Your interviewer(s) will undoubtedly get
together afterward to discuss your candidacy for the position. If you
can give them some assurances about their concerns during the
interview, then they will go into their meeting more confident about
your fit for the position.

Now I found these questions online and I can't stress enough how
important it is to have good questions to ask your interviewer. If it
gets to the "Any questions?" and you say, "Nope," you will look like a
dunce and your job search will continue.

Windfall Prophets

The "Peaceful Religion" strikes again.

This is an image of what Hilary Clinton described as "our friends carrying our ambassador to the hospital."


Get Mad.

Oklahoma State Is, Like, THE BEST TEAM EVER!

DUDE!  Oklahoma State beat Savannah State 84-0 last night!  They must be, like, the BEST TEAM EVER!  They've proven they're a force to be reckoned with in the National Title race!  What a potent offense!

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Cowboys, you scheduled the KING of all cupcake games.  Granted, many FBS schools schedule FCS opponents to tune up for the season, which is a bush league practice in it's own right.  However, Savannah State, as a result of many aggravating factors, has always been a lousy football team.  So, you went WAAAYYY down the divisions and conferences to pick Savannah State as your season opener to accomplish... what?  A good tune-up for your squad?  Or to pad stats?

Honestly, what did you learn about your squad by playing a team like Savannah State?  Did anyone get and real work in?  Sure, your numbers look great which will help in the rankings calculation, but the strength of opponent factor for this game should be a BAGEL.  ZERO.

In closing, I just want to say that you guys suck.  Also, if you need a midweek scrimmage, you can contact the Make a Wish Foundation or Saint Jude's Children's Hospital.  I'll bet you could get those kids to suit up.

PANSIES!

My Brother's Keeper

One of the best aspects of the D 'Souza documentary is that it exposes the fundamental hypocrisy of Obama's political platform.  The Messiah, who justifies his entitlement spending by repeatedly citing the biblical call to be "my brother's keeper," actually has a brother in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya.  George Obama has met The Messiah on several occasions, but does not share his brother- and father's anti-colonialist views.  His is a more conservative world view.

When George Obama's child had a $1,000 hospital bill that he could not pay, he didn't call Barack, but rather called D'Souza, who paid the bill.

Read about it in The Blaze

2016: The Left Gets Nervous Diarrhea

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This documentary looks great.  I'm particularly excited by it because of the reaction it has gotten from the left. I read one review from Village Voice  that made me REALLY excited. Here's an excerpt from Alan Scherstuhl's whiny piece, The 5 Lowlights of durka durka durka: 

"The movie of choice this week for people who hold the beliefs that A) America is the strongest, best-est country that God ever virgin-birthed and B) that that nation somehow just isn't strong enough to survive eight years of centrist Democratic leadership, Dinesh D'Souza's 2016: Obama's America actually does not touch on 2016 much at all."

Haha! "Centrist Democratic leadership." 

I love how, instead of challenging any legitimate points in the film, idiots like this go to the default mode of calling you a stupid redneck unless you drink their Kool-Aid (which, by the way, tastes a lot like watered down facism.)  This movie must really have Them scared!  The last thing They want is for anyone to expose The Messiah for what he is: a (thankfully) ineffective socialist with the shortest resume of any president in history.  

Interesting how this is referred to as a "cartoon" and trashed as intellectually challenged, but Michael Moore's steaming piles are praised as "important." 

Movies like this help Hollywood, and the media's, true colors show through: brown and green. For poop and boogers. 

Fall From Grace

How I felt about turning down fantasy football all these years:

How I feel after accepting Chris' offer to join his fantasy football league:

But we can't judge, can we?

Ok, so Islamist extremists have targeted female Tunisian Olympic athletes for behavior and dress unbecoming of Muslims. Radicals have called for the citizenship of Habiba Ghribi (pictured) to be stripped because her running gear was too revealing. That actually seems pretty tame as I'm sure they'd stone her if given half a chance.

Why no one ever speaks up against this wholly accepted behavior in a mainstream forum continues to baffle me. We're so afraid to judge, even when something is so clearly backwards and wrong. Of course, tolerance of others' religious beliefs is paramount to civil coexistence, but blindly accepting all facets of one religion, no matter how oppressive or barbaric, is naive.

So now, I judge:

Tunisian Islamist extremists: I can appreciate that your religion is very important to you, but how is it working out for you? How's your economy? How's your government? How's your space program? Not good? How's the quality of life over there? How's the infrastructure, still rubble? Maybe instead of hammering on this religion thing so hard, you take a look around and try some other things. Here's one idea, knock off all the holy war nonsense and pick up a broom. Your place is a mess.

Gay Chickens, Free Speech, and Waffle Fries

     Chick-Fil-A President Dan Cathy's recent comments in support of traditional marriage has sparked a predictably ridiculous debate over both freedom of speech and same sex marriage.  Lost in the mud-slinging are several key points in relation to civil liberties. The easiest way to dissect this is in bullet points, so here we go. 


1. Marriage is, at its core, a religious institution.  It is a ceremonial union in the eyes of the Lord.  The government should not be involved. One's chosen religion should dictate the terms of such a union.  This means that it if 5 couples live on my block, they might have 5 concepts of marriage, and it's up to them and their Maker to decide if their union is legitimate.  In any event, the government should not be involved at any level.  


2. However, the government IS involved, and it views marriage as little more than a taxable legal contract between two people.  


3. Since the government recognizes this taxable contract, it should fall under the protection of the 14th Amendment of the Constitution. Section 1 of the amendment clearly states that "no State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States." Simply put, states cannot grant a privileged contract to one group of citizens while denying another. 


4. Given points 2 and 3, if the government is going to be involved in marriage, it must recognize non-traditional unions. 


     Now, on to Cathy's comments themselves, and the implications of his opponent's reactions in relation to freedom of speech. 


5.  A reasonable person would not conclude that Dan Cathy said anything which would constitute hate speech.  He spoke of his support for the institution of traditional marriage, and that's it.   Those who compare this specific situation to anti-segregation demonstrations in the '60s betray a stunning lack of historical perspective. His restaurant does not discriminate in any way when it comes to serving the public. Gay or straight, you can enjoy his delicious chicken sandwiches without harassment of any kind. 


6. In many cases, same-sex marriage advocates are their own worst enemy.  Instead of recognizing differences in opinion and attempting to persuade the masses the way that I successfully did in bullet points 1-4, anyone who disagrees with their opinion is a small-minded bigot who wanders the Earth with blinders on spewing "hate speech".  From a civil libertarian standpoint, my views are clear (see above), but the antics of between 75-90% of those who lobby for gay marriage galvanize me towards their opposition.


7.  This did not have to become a First Amendment issue, but it absolutely became one.  Boycotting Chick-Fil-A is absolutely within the rights of anyone who would do so.  However, when elected politicians speak of banning a private business from large urban centers because its president fails to share their world view, we should ALL be outraged.  That action would represent the absolute worst and most clear violation of First Amendment protections in recent history.  Unfortunately, for many on the Left, the end always justifies means.  They will absolutely revoke the most basic of civil liberties to suit their immediate needs. So, while campaigning for enforcement of the 14th Amendment, they would gladly deny the opposition the rights granted by the First. 


In conclusion: I like fried chicken. You will only galvanize people against your cause by calling those with legitimate disagreements "bigots."  He didn't say anything wrong. And gay marriage should be legal.
 

The Epic...Part III: All in All We're Just Another Brick in the Wall

     Our hero made the familiar trek that he knew so well.  He made his way around the hallowed Customer Service counter and down the long back hall.  To his right, the wall was lined with the smiling pictures of  legends from the past.  The Employee of the Month wall proudly displayed an exemplary Team Member from each month since the store had opened.  June of 1995: Gary Montana, AKA "Uno",  the self-taught bagger cum cashier who pioneered the now famous "Check 'n' Bag" technique.  May of 2002: Maria Habanero, a pioneer who shattered the glass ceiling by becoming the first Hispanic woman to get promoted to the cash office, probably ever.  December of 2005: Nick Boxer, the stocker who averaged an astounding 80 cases an hour for an entire month.
     McBain made his way past picture after picture of these packaging pilgrims, until he came to the months of May through July 2010.  He saw three empty spots with three empty wall anchors driven into the dry wall and snickered.
     "Some people just don't appreciate the classics," he muttered aloud.
     As he passed Frank McBuggy's most recent "three-peat", he smirked and said, "Must have airbrushed the shit off of his nose."
     Finally, McBain reached the lonely door at the end of the hall.  He reared his right fist back to knock, hesitated, then turned the knob.  He had never knocked before, why start now.
     He walked into the office and saw Shackleford leaning back in his chair facing the far wall.  The closed circuit monitors on his shelf flashed images of each department in sequence.  The glow from the monitors illuminated the Store Manager Excellence plaques hung on the wall across the dimly lit office.
     "I've been expecting you," said the grocery store skipper, as he turned to face his bagger. "My God, McBain. You look like shit. You lose your razor?  And, and....is that whiskey I smell on your breath?"
      "You know what they say, Rusty, idle hands do the devil's work," shot back McBain.
      "That's your problem! It's always been your problem! All the potential in the world, but you piss it away on booze and fast women! You're more concerned about putting on a show than being a team player and following company standard practice!"
      "Fuck you, Shackleford," replied Brick.  "You called me, remember? And what a short memory you have.  Maybe if my pictures were still on that wall out there..."
      "Oh, here we go. Listen, I don't like your attitude. I don't like your methods.  You're right, I did call you back in, but I had to swallow a pound and a half of pride to do it.  Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."
      "I'm listening," said the aproned man with a commanding presence.
      "Brick. All hell is breaking loose out there.  The crew speaks of mutiny. These greenhorns have no clue how to handle a crisis like this.  They're not salty, like the old warhorses we used to work with."
      "Ha!" laughed McBain.  "Remember Smitty in the blackout of '99!"
      "Of course!" chuckled Shackleford.  "How could I forget? That old bastard. Leave it to a blind guy!"
      "Look, Brick.  We're eating shit right now.  Can't keep up.  I've got customer complaints every 10 minutes, and the District Manager has been blowing up my cell all day.  What's worse, the city council is concerned that we're not going to be able to supply the town in case of an emergency.  The mayor has been on my ass all day.  I can't afford any screw ups.  No collateral damage today, clear?"
      "Crystal," said McBain.
      The hero turned and pressed the handle on the door to leave.
      "McBain!" yelled Shackleford.  Brick turned, and caught the bottle of Aspirin that Rusty threw at him.
      "You might need these."
      "I'll take 2, bag my ass off, and call you in the morning," said the hero, whose apron looked like a backwards cape. "It's showtime.

The Epic of Brick McBain, Part II: Return of a Legend

    Outside of the store, the parking lot bustled with activity.  Each artery was clogged with motorists prowling for a vacant spot, dodging both civilians with arms full of groceries and uniformed Bag Men alike.  Simply put: it was a zoo. Shopping carts filled the Cart Corrals and spilled over onto every median in the lot, and eventually, Kroger had to send two clerks out to retrieve them.  After all, in a crisis like this, shopping carts were four-wheeled gold.  He picked two men to send out into "The Shit," as the vets called it.  He needed men he could trust to clear the lot quickly and report back to The Rack.
     For Kroger, the choice was easy: Frank McBuggy.  McBuggy, the old warhorse of the crew, was a clean cut bagger at 20 years old.  He had been serving the Front End since he enlisted at age 16 and had dealt with many days just like today.  Everything about McBuggy screamed, "old school"...from his ironed and neatly-tucked shirt and crisp apron to his command of The Rack, his ability to plan the order as he unloaded carts onto the conveyor belt, and his "by the book" approach to bagmanship.  He carried out his duties faithfully and with military precision.
    Yes, Kroger could trust McBuggy, but who would he choose to accompany this old pro out into The Shit? He scanned his front end and settled on the young up-and-comer, Ted Applebee.
     Applebee was a fresh-faced 16 year old.  A tad on the squirrely side, he maintained a low profile, preferring to leave most of the flashy bagging to his elders.  He had only been with the company for a few months and was still learning the craft, but he had a lot of upside, and the veterans respected his work ethic and respect for bagging traditions and insititutions.  It was often said of Applebee that he "played the game the right way."
     After receiving his mission, McBuggy put his hand on his protege's shoulder, and said quietly, "It's time." With a gulp and a nervous nod of his head, Applebee began to tighten his apron strings.  With that, the men made their way into the lot.
     Siezing a brief moment's respite on their journey through the foyer, Applebee began to make small talk with his hero.
     "I heard Mr. Shackleford is calling up everyone on the payroll to come in today," he said, as he dodged civilians, too busy reading their shopping lists to notice a Bag Man on a Bag Mission. "I've even heard he's calling Brick McBain.  Is it true what they say about him? I mean, are the stories true?"
     "Yeah," said McBuggy, "it's mostly true.  Everyone hero worships the guy, but I don't like his bagging.  It's not safe.  It's not conventional.  It's not efficient. It's against everything the store preaches."
     "Even so," said Applebee, "I've heard stories about the way he took charge during Hurricane Brian Benben back in '08..."
     "Enough!" cried an exasperated McBuggy.  "I might have to deal with this cocky shithead today, but I don't have to sit here and listen to you kiss his ass!"
     With that, Mcbuggy broke to the other side of the parking lot.  He stopped halfway, grabbed a cart, and kicked at a piece of trash on the ground. Through a deep sigh, he muttered, "sonofabitch.  Here we go again."
________________________________________________________________________________

     Inside the store the chaos continued.  Managers were stocking, stockers were bagging, and baggers were just trying to hold the whole damn thing together.
     After frantically searching for a price, then bagging a huge order, then being asked to go help restock the bread aisle, one rookie bagger had had enough. Panic and frustration were evident on the young man's face as he ripped off his standard-issue apron and threw it on the ground.  He began hyperventilating, and he screamed through each desperate breath:
     "I...can't...t-t-take it! I...never....signed......I never signed on for this! I....QUIT!"
     "Damnit!" exclaimed veteran cashier Sally Skanzulot. "Another one! That's 3 today.  We can't keep up! Just close the doors, Rusty! We're done!"
     Just then, a booming voice rang across the front of the store.
     "Done?!" asked the scruffy, baritone voice. "Turkeys are done, people are finished, but Bag Men? Well, Bag Men just keep on cookin'!"
      Everyone on the front end, civilians and uniformed personnel alike, looked over to the north lobby, half-expecting to see Clint Eastwood's Blonde Drifter character holding a stick of dynamite. What they saw was much, much more awesomely intimidating.
     They were treated to the silhouette of a man about 6 feet tall.  His hair was shaggy and suggested that he was unkempt, but each step he took from the shadows towards the customer service desk screamed, "confidence." The unshaved Bag Man had a medium build with chiseled features and a prominent jawline.  As he stepped back into The Show, his eyes twinkled with the excitement of a quarterback facing the capacity crowd at a Super Bowl. 
      One could hear a pin drop as he walked towards the counter and grabbed the assignment clipboard.  All eyes were on him as he surveyed the situation with the knowing gaze of a seasoned professional.
      From the far side of the front end, Ted Applebee broke the silence.
      "It's McBain.  He's...he's back. He's really here."
     "In the flesh, young buck," said McBain. "I understand you shiny badges needed a little help today."
      Johnny Kroger walked up with a half-cocked smile that betrayed the relief and excitement he felt at seeing his old friend.
      "Kroger." said McBain. "Whadda we got."
      "A first class shit-storm, Brick," replied the almost star-struck manager. "But before we tackle it, Shackelford needs to talk to you in his office."
_________________________________________________________________________________

Coming Soon: Part III: Bricks and Stones May Break My Bones, But Paper Bags Will Never Hurt Me

The Epic of Brick McBain: Paper, Plastic, or Justice? Part 1

IN 2005, I was asked to write a fiction piece for a Magazine Writing course as part of the Journalism program at GSU.  Panicked, I decided to go with what I know. 

Ladies and Gentlmen, enter my sick, sick mind, and meet Brick McBain: Bagging Hero:

    People moved to Wilmington Island, GA for the relaxed, laid back pace of life that it offered its residents, but today that easygoing spirit was replaced by one of apprehension and an almost tangible fear.  The sky had been growing darker and more ominous as the day progressed, with gray clouds swirling and racing overhead.  Throughout the normally sleepy town, flags stood stiff at the apex of their poles.  Cars clogged the island's main arteries and the wail of horns filled the air as motorists inched along Johnny Mercer Boulevard towards their destinations.

     Inside the local supermarket, the panicked citizens flooded the aisles and piled nonperishable food items in their carts.  Can foods, bottled water, batteries, matches, candles...legions of apron-clad stock clerks tried in vain to keep the shelves adequately supplied of these staple items.  The National Weather Service had just issued a hurricane warning a few hours earlier, and Wilmington Island sat square in the center of the warning area. Hurricane Penelope was on the way, and the grocery store run was in full effect.

     Every register had lines stretching nearly to the back of the store, and the incessant moans of the cash registers added to the anxiety of an already tense situation.

    "BEEP!" they cried after each scanned item, literally hundreds of times per minute.  "BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!"
  
    Each cry of the scanners represented one item that had to be rung up, bagged, and ultimately restocked.  The orders began to pile up at the end of each register, and the cashiers were engaged in the fight of their grocery-store lives trying to keep up.

      "Get on the phone and get our entire front end staff up here!" yelled store manager Rusty Shackleford.  "Hurricane be damned, we've already got a Cat 5 in here, and we're gonna need everyone we've got if we're gonna hold back the flood waters of dissapointing shopping experiences!"

     The wily veteran Johnny Kroger nodded at his boss' command as he hastily eyed his scheduling clipboard, the truest companion of any Front End Manager. Kroger was of slight stature.  His curly black locks made him look more the part of a jam band enthusiast than a Grocery Store Leader, but he was a wily veteran, and he lived for weather scares like this.  As he scanned through his schedule, he realized that every employee he had was either on hand or on the way.  All except for one.

     "Boss," said Kroger from behind the customer service desk. "Do you want me to call EVERYONE? Even...well, even employees who are on suspension?"

    "Damn it, Kroger! We both know there's only one employee on suspension right now, and I don't have time for his showboating today," Shackleford shot back angrily.

     Kroger, normally hesitant to question Rusty's snap leadership decisions, quickly scanned his devastated front end. Customers were throwing their hands up as they waited in seemingly endless lines.  Shopping carts were as scarce as springs in the desert.  Frustrated baggers ran hopelessly from register to register, packaging like mad men.

     "Mr. Shackleford, I know that this is not the ideal situation for his return. But, damn it, sir, there's only one Bag Man who can pull us back from the brink of this hurricane-spawned grocery store nightmare.  The others look to him as a leader.  Look, I know you don't like his rogue bagging methods, and, hell, most of the time, I don't either...but there's no denying what the man can do behind a bag rack," said Kroger.

     Shackleford, a stout, middle-aged man with a receding hair line that could only belong to a retail managment lifer, stared intensely at the scheduling clipboard.  With laser-like focus, he ran every possible staffing scenario through his head.  After a few moments, moments which seemed like an eternity to Kroger, a look of hopelessness came across his pale face.

     "Johnny, is anyone cross-trained? I mean, is there anyone we can call?" asked the embattled manager.

     "Sir, as I see it, no. There isn't."

     Kroger saw the look of defeat on his manager's face.

     "Fine. Do it. Make the call. But when he comes in, send him to my office. We're going to have a little chat before he dons this apron again."  With that, Shackleford took several quick paces to his office and slammed the door.

     Kroger ran to the phone and began furiously punching the numbers that he knew so well.  A smirk came across his face as the ringback played.

"Here we go."  Moments later. "It's me. Yes. Code Red.  As soon as possible."

STAY TUNED TO MEET OUR HERO IN PART 2

Brief Hiatus

With every new venture, particularly creative ones, some time is
needed to find your feet and your direction. Chris and I have used
this brief hiatus to rediscover the issues that are both worthy of
our commentary and interesting to our readers.

Also, we've just been busy. Never fear, we have not forgotten about
you. We hope you will look forward to our newest material.

Like Messrs Bachman, Turner and Overdrive said, "you ain't seen nothing yet."

Best regards,
Joe

Not You Too, Georgia Southern

Last week, GSU student and George-Anne staff writer, Courtney Escher, had her editorial (Beware the GTSNP Virus) published in the George-Anne.  In her editorial, she made light of a current campus fashion trend involving girls wearing large shirts that hide the shorts underneath.  I don't recall anyone dressing this way when I was enrolled there, but times change and I imagine it would be funny to see a lot of girls dressed this way.

What has followed has been nothing short of disappointing.  The G-A's inbox has been flooded with the mock outrage and vitriol we've come to expect from the wholly unwashed internet masses.  Every time someone makes an off-color joke or satirical comment in a public forum, they're raked over the coals and made to give a forced apology.  Remember De Niro's "white first lady" joke?  David Axelrod's "Mittzkrieg" comment?  Rush Limbaugh?  Don Imus?  Gilbert Gottfried?  I could go on, but the point is that we've turned into a nation of crybabies.  Everyone's psyche is so fragile that when we hear something we don't like, we piss and moan until the offender apologizes.

College is supposed to be a time of carefree living, especially at Georgia Southern.  When did you all become so sensitive?  How do students living in idyllic Statesboro find their feelings so easily hurt?  I remember a time not that long ago.  Before Brother Micah, there was another younger "evangelist" who would come preach on campus.  I've never heard Brother Micah preach, so I can't speak about his message.  However, the young man who came before him would call everyone within earshot a sinner, whore, faggot, masturbator, etc.  No one protested.  No one demanded an apology.  The spectacle just drew some curious looks and a few laughs from busy students on their way to class, lunch, happy hour, or the pool.

Students of Georgia Southern, I implore you: let's get back to a place where we are to busy to be bothered with being offended.  If nowhere else in the world, let our beloved University be a beacon of calm reason, not hysterical, half-hearted outrage.

Together, we can.

Check Your Facts, Folks.

Organizers from the London 2012 Olympic Committee recently contacted representatives for The Who about playing a part in the closing ceremonies.  Specifically, the organizers wanted The Who's iconic drummer, Keith Moon, to play during the portion of the ceremony that is to be a celebration of British pop culture.

Representatives for The Who responded that Keith Moon is hard to get ahold of these days.  Moon passed away in 1978 at age 32.

Andino-plasty: My Ticked Off Baseball Moment of the Week

Monday's Orioles-Yankees game at Camden Yards provided a telling look at the "unwritten rules" of baseball to the observant fan.

An end-of-the-game spat between Yankees catcher Russell Martin and Orioles 2B Robert Andino came about as the result of Martin accusing Andino of stealing signs (for the laymen: relaying pitches as a runner on 2nd to the hitter at the plate).

I have 2 simple points to make about this.

1) Russell Martin: you and the Yankees won 6-2. If signs were being stolen by the O's, then they did a crappy job. It was more like stealing your TV then getting too lazy to carry it and dropping it in your front yard than it was some kind of Ocean's 11 operation.

2) If you're worried about the other team stealing your signs, THEN MEET WITH YOUR PITCHER AND CHANGE THEM! This is S.O.P. for most major league clubs with a runner on 2nd. Getting mad about someone on 2nd stealing your signs is akin to getting pissed at someone for robbing you blind when you left your doors open and money on the table underneath a big sign that says, "Hey Y'all! Here's My Moneys! Teehee!!!"

Play. Ball.

Peanuts, Made-up Allergies, and the Sanctity of the Ballpark

The hysterics of modern day society never cease to amaze me.  Today’s sheep are so easily terrified that every new threat is met with the most sever of responses.  The world is a scary place.  Danger lurks around every corner in countless forms, such as gluten, secondhand smoke, high fructose corn syrup and more.  Both of New York’s baseball teams have set their sights on possibly the most dangerous scourge of all: the peanut.

 

Yankee Stadium and Shea Stadiums have begun offering peanut-free seating for the militant allergist out to ruin everyone’s fun.  The Mets have gone so far as to place the allergy-afflicted in an enclosed box with power-washed seats.  I’m sure this is making all those smug wimps preen with accomplishment. 

 

“Keep those peanuts away from me, I’m special.  Oh, you didn’t know you were in a peanut-free zone?  Sor-reeeee.  Go eat those somewhere else for me, okay?  Thaaaaaanks.”

 

I have two problems here.  1) Where did all of these allergies come from?  In my near 30 years of life, I have met two people with any kind of food allergy.  Now, food allergies are everywhere.  According to CNN, a 2011 study found that eight percent of people under the age of 18 have at least one food allergy.  What does this say?  Hysterical parents are making up issues for their kids to have something to talk about.  2) Why do all of these crybabies get to have their way and remove peanuts from their piece of the ballpark, regardless of the other people who may want peanuts?  The two friends I mentioned earlier with food allergies; both are allergic to peanuts.  However, neither of them become hysterical freaks when someone opens a bag of peanuts at a ballpark.  They deal with their allergy in the most sensible way possible: they don’t eat peanuts.  They use some common sense and they don’t touch or eat the peanuts.

 

However, the feeble-minded complainers of today can’t handle this kind of high thinking.  They can’t do that math of simply not touching or eating peanuts when they are around.  They have to organize and get things banned.  It’s criminal.  The fact that this kind of nonsense is taking place at America’s ballparks is appalling.  Baseball stadiums should be sacred.  For over 200 years, baseball has been played in this country.  And for over 200 years, people ate peanuts while they watched America’s Pastime.

 

Let’s reclaim our beloved ballparks; for America and for sanity.

Braves Season Re-cap

Ok. We're 2 games into the 2012 baseball season with only 160 left to play. It's time to overreact.

I have been working a lot lately, and I'm feeling incredibly lazy. So here are some bullet points:

1. The Braves are really bad.
1A) Their entire season is built on promise. "If Heyward can live up to his potential....If Prado can rebound this season....If Uggla can carry a batting average above .160 into the All-Star Break...If Minor, Teheran, and Delgado can finally mature into top of the rotation pitchers..." Relying on potential for success, especially in a greatly improved NL East, is a dangerous way to operate.
1B) They look exactly like the team that had an epic 10.5 game collapse last year. This is due in no small part to the fact that they ARE the same team. With their pitching, they don't necessarily need to rely on 3-run homers like an AL team, but they have to be able to play NL small ball. In the first two games, they have left a staggering 23 men on base. They have only plated 2 runners. If you lack a consistent power-hitter in the middle of the lineup, you have to execute the fundamentals to get 'em on, get 'em over, and get 'em in. They had the opportunity to trade Jurrjens and Prado for the likes of Adam Jones, who would have provided a legitimate bat in the middle of the lineup for years to come. But, Wren wouldn't pull the trigger. What's the definition of "insanity" again??

2. The Orioles are fun to watch. Timely hitting, good defense, and great lineup management on Buck Showalter's part. Both of their catchers are in the starting lineup tonight (Wieters C, Paulino DH). This is considered an oddity in baseball and a big no-no. Why did Buck go ahead and do it anyway? Because he put the best lineup on the field, conventional wisdom be damned. And Paulino is 2-2 as we speak, with the O's up 6-0 on the Twins. They'll lose 85-90 games, but I'd rather watch an entertaining 85 losses than a boring, mindless 85 wins.

3. I am going to stick with my prediction that the Braves only get 76 wins this year. I think they will just get wrecked in division play.

Hope springs eternal.

Real Things I Don't Know

"Many times I've wondered, how much there is to know." -Led Zeppelin

When Led Zeppelin wrote these words, they had no idea that everyone and their mother would use it as their senior quote.

"Oh, wow! I had no idea (insert your stupid name here) was that deep intellectually," said everyone who reads your Led Zep quote, in your head.

Anyway, I'm having difficulty coming up with a segue here to transition from this quote and people who really aren't intellectually curious to Me: The Exact Opposite.

Here is some stuff I don't know. Really.

- How did people get haircuts in olden times? Like, Julius Caeser. He has a particular style of haircut named after him even today. Did he even have scissors? Were they in the equation yet? I always envision people just putting their hair between two jagged rocks and rubbing them together. That's stupid. But it's true. Maybe it was two spears and not rocks? Maybe a phalanx? Don't get me started on shaving.

- Where is the end of the first thread of the shirt that I'm wearing? How do you even start to make it? The stitching is so small. I bet it's really hard.

- I don't get how TVs work.

- Do birds sleep?

- Now that you've got me started on shaving, how many blades is the optimal number of blades? 1? 2? 15? Somehow they have got 5 on there now. I think that's stupid. Why don't pretty girls ever touch my face and then give me "bedroom eyes" like they do to the guys on Gillette commercials?

- How do they count all those votes in a matter of hours, presidential-electionally speaking?

**Women**

- Don't really get satellites. I mean, on a surface level, yeah, I do. But come on. You don't either.

- What's up with my health insurance. Lotsa mumbo jumbo there. How do I use that?? I'm pretty bad at being an adult. That's pretty much Exhibit A for proving that case.

Great news! I could go on and on and on, but I won't. This is now a weekly topic.

Sorry Charlie

Today, on the aptly named "Today Show," Gary Busey's estranged lover/runaway clone Charlie Sheen apologized for his meltdown last year. In a move that can only be described as "totally lame" by your humble author, he said that there were times in 2011 where he felt as though he was having an "out of body experience." He lamented his "cringeable" behavior in an apparent effort to rebrand himself to the public before launching "Anger Management".

Know what? This really just ruins everything. The best thing I have going in my life is my ability to Not Be Charlie Sheen, and, through his apology, he has dashed the last scraps of value from my being.

Chuck, you stormed through Hollywood last year like a coked up Tasmanian Devil leaving sobbing strippers and laughing masses in your wake (Looney Tunes reference #1...the strippers were my favorite part of that cartoon). Is selling your new sitcom important enough to you to ruin the legacy of the Taggart Transcontinental-esque trainwreck that WAS your 2011??? (I read books).

You, sir, have shaken the very foundation of my self-worth by taking this away from me.

Jerk.

How The Hunger Games Brought Nerd Balance to My Household

Here are some examples of what my fiancee has had to endure from me in just this past year:

-"Let's watch this movie, Take Shelter, because I heard the lead actor got snubbed for an Oscar nomination. But really, let's just watch it because the guy is going to be playing General Zod in the new Superman movie."

-"Can I tell you my wrestling storyline idea?"

-"Do you hear that drum fill? Seriously, are you kidding me with this drum fill?" - while listening to a Smashing Pumpkins song I've heard 300 times

-"Can I explain to you for ten minutes how my fantasy baseball league works?"

-"I know these episodes of the original Star Trek series are bad, but I have to watch all of them."

-"After work I'm going to see Transformers in 3D by myself."

-"I'm going to try out this wrestling promotion called Chikara. Yeah, sure they wrestle in high school gyms, and some guys wear masks, and one guy's gimmick is a heel marching band drum major, but it's fun."

-"I'm sorry, but I have to rewind that and watch it again." - after nearly every Pete Campbell scene in Mad Men

-"I might cry." - while I was waiting for The Hobbit trailer to load

-And some other stuff  I'm too embarrassed to admit.

The tables are about to turn.

The newest monster of pop culture primed to take over our country will be unleashed today, March 23rd. The Hunger Games already broke the record for most advanced ticket sales of all time, and two weeks ago my soon-to-be wife called me at work to tell me she contributed to that via Fandango. This was the culmination of nearly a year of MacKenzie, who read the trilogy in about two days, squeeing over the release of casting news, posters, thirty second clips, magazine covers, magazines stories, teaser trailers, full-length trailers, and now its 87% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. 

Tomorrow I will sit next to her at the first showing in the Athens Carmike (which smells like mildew and alley piss, like every other Carmike) wearing my jacket, so that my skin doesn't touch the 70 layers of human filth on the armrests. And it will be in that seat where I will feel a huge relief: I am no longer the only dork in our household. 

The best part? The Hunger Games is the first of four movies. Four sci-fi movies, based on a series of young adult novels, set in a post-apocalyptic future. I'm going to enjoy the next few years.

The Blow-Your-Mind Friday Question

Every once in a while, I'll have an extremely vivid dream where I
accidentally kill someone. These are among the most terrifying dreams
one can have because not only have you just killed someone, but you're
also facing a possible long prison sentence.

Last night I had a dream that I was being harassed by a group of guys.
I was trying to leave, but a bunch of them jumped in the back of my
truck. After repeated warnings, I climbed up into the bed and
confronted them.

"Get out or I'll throw you out," I said.

They remained. I grabbed the one closest to me and slung him towards
the back of the truck. His feet caught the tailgate, which upended
him and caused him to land on his head with a sickening thud.

The other four or five guys rushed to his side. Horrified at what I'd
done, and fearing retribution from the crowd, I fled. Shortly after,
I found out he had died.

I spent the rest of the dream terrified that I was going to prison for a long time. When I finally woke up, I was relieved that it was all a dream.

I thought about it for the rest of the morning when a thought occurred
to me, and it gave birth to The Blow-Your-Mind Friday Question.

Question: Do you think that somewhere, someone had a dream that he harassed some guy until he was thrown from the back of a pickup truck, causing him to wake the moment before his head hit the pavement?

Mind: blown. Happy Friday.

A Different Kind Of Dream Date

Photo: Fox News
 

Within the last year or so, we've seen a couple of high profile celebrity date requests.  Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis were nice enough to attend military functions with their dates who boldly asked them over the internet.  More recently, hundreds of similar requests went out from Oakdale, MN to prom date prospects in the adult film industry.  Funny thing though, those hundreds of tweets came from one guy: 18 year old Mike Stone (right).  

Stone actually managed to get two of them to say yes: Megan Piper (pictured left) and Emy Reyes.  Piper agreed on the grounds that Stone pay for her plane ticket.  Right now, though, it's looking like Stone's dream date won't come to fruition.  The school district has banned Piper from the dance on the grounds that it wouldn't be in the "best interest" of the school or the district.

This is yet another of the million examples we see every day of the overreaching, nanny state in which we live.  District Superintendent, Patty Phillips, made the call to ban Piper from the dance.  We see this time and time again where people get just a little bit of juice, a little bit of power, and they just can't wait to wield it with their nose-in-the-air righteousness.  Just let the adult film star go to prom.  What is it really going to hurt?

As for the two girls who said yes, namely for Piper: this is a shrewd business move.  When you're in any industry where all of your competitors are exactly the same, you can only gain an advantage by raising your profile.  The amount of free publicity she is getting from this story is amazing.  Lucky for her, I'm sure she has nine films coming out this week.  She just needs to fork over the $400 and go to prom with this kid, but not be a big whore about it.  If she can keep it somewhat classy in photos, then it's a win-win: she'll sell more films and she will have been the sweetheart who went with the awkward kid to prom.

As for Stone (and I've saved you for last), hundreds?  How do you know hundreds of adult film stars?  Furthermore, do you follow all of them on Twitter?

In all seriousness, if this is a ploy to expose senior proms everywhere as just some farcical dance that is blown out of proportion by students across the country every year, or if this is something you did just to say you did it, then I applaud you.  I'm all for shaking things up.  However, if you decided to ask an adult film star to your prom because that is really your ideal prom date, and likely your ideal woman, then I pity you.  When you view women only as a sexual commodity, you miss out on everything else. (I expect our female readership to go through the roof for that one.)

Anyway, best of luck Mr. Stone.  Beef O'Bloggy's is rooting for you.

Full story can be read here.

Rick Santorum: Larry the Candidate Guy

Rick Santorum, a candidate for Command-Nerd-in-Chief, spent nearly $100,000 on sweater vests in February in a move that can only be described as Urkellian in nature. According to Politico, Santorum's embattled campaign is offering a sweater vest for each donation of at least $100. So, if you are the sort of person who enjoys wasting money and votes, and likes to look like a dweeb doing it, then this is like Christmas in March.

Ivan Drago: Misunderstood

I'll admit, the number of times that I have seen Rocky IV is so low that it borders on the un-American.  I only recently found it on Netflix and decided to watch it last night while I caught up on some work.  Toward the end, a strange thing happened.  I don't remember feeling this way the other times I've watched this film, but I ended up feeling really bad for Ivan Drago.

I know what you're thinking, "Woah, Drago represents everything that was wrong with the Soviet Union and why they were such a threat to the US of A. "  And you're right, but for more reasons than you know.  We all understand that Ivan Drago is the product of the latest (at the time) advances of exercise science.  We see him injected with what we can only assume is anabolic steroids.  The result?  A magnificent physical specimen, but what about the man inside?

The Ivan Drago I see is a product of the failed Communist school system.  He speaks six times in the film: four in Russian, two in English.  Every time he speaks, we hear the most basic sentences with little to no thought or nuance.  When he is brought out to fight or go to press conferences, he looks frightened and confused.  Coupled with his poor schooling, I really estimate his cognitive development is mildly to moderately retarded.  Being a professional athlete and nationally beloved sports hero can bring a lot of pressure, especially to someone ill-equipped to cope with it.

The part where I really sympathized with him was right before the last round of the fight.  In the later rounds, Rocky was making up ground on the scorecards, but he was still behind.  Had it gone to a decision, Drago still would have won easily.  However, the Soviet crowd had turned on their hero before the fight was even over.  Like Frankenstein's monster, Drago only wants to be accepted for who he is, and it's that rejection that pushes him over the edge.  Drago loses his cool, chokes out a member of the politburo, and steps in for the final round.  He loses to Balboa by K.O. and the rest is history.  Rocky wins.  Ivan Drago is relegated to obscurity, comforted only by his wife after a devastating loss.  6 years later, the Soviet Union crumbles.

I've had my say and most will disagree with me.  Bad guys are just bad guys, you might say.  But that's where you'd be wrong in this case; Ivan Drago lacks the requisite intelligence to be a truly bad guy.  What we're left with is less of an evil villain, and more of a 6'5", 261 pound idiot man-child.

Welcome from Chris

Welcome to Beef O'Bloggy's, a website for The Everyman. Co-Founder Joe Smatherton and I have long felt that the internet lacked the depth of content necessary to appeal to the varying interests of its primary demographic: Everybody. The only solution to this problem? Satisfy everyone, all the time, and often in multiple languages, with this - The Holy Grail of Blogspots.

So how does this website appeal to Everybody? It just does. The only restraints placed on the content of contributors is that the work not be tasteless, but what does that even mean? Our content will cover everything from movie and music reviews to pop culture to politics and sports. Most who know Joe and I personally would assume that this will be a humor site, and while it is true that our personal styles tend to favor general clown-itude, we want to leave ourselves open to serious topics when we deem it necessary (because the plight of midgets in this country is no laughing matter).

Our primary goal in this exercise will be to consistently publish content, but we have not worked out the nuts and bolts of who will publish what- and when. We will eventually look to add contributors to expand our appeal. We have some great ideas about how to organize content to make this a user-friendly experience, and we are looking to buy our own domain name.

Follow us on twitter (@CLane400; @JoeTweeting) and we'll keep you posted on our posts, post-publishing.

We are still under construction, but open for business. So, welcome, Everybody.