Boo Berry Cobbler

"Grampa, can you teach us how to control the undead?"

In honor of Halloween, American Movie Classics has been running horror films ad nauseum. Normally, this would be a good thing for fans of the genre like me, but since they are sticking with constant reruns of the Friday the 13th series, I have been averting the channel like vampires avoid garlic. You want some good scary movies? Check out my top five:

A Nightmare on Elm Street – Remember when Freddy Krueger was scary, and not an aspiring comedian. I do. Wes Craven's original Nightmare was damned scary, even if the Freddy concept was a blatant rip-off of Phantasm's Tall Man. Bonus points for casting a young Johnny Depp in a major role.

Alien – Wow, a James Cameron film without Ah-nuld? Go figure. Alien freaked me out with both its gore and its suspense. Gore doesn't bother me as much as crap jumping out in front of me. That is powerfully uncool. Bonus points for the "alien in the stomach" scene. Nasty.

Phantasm – Don Coscarelli is a genius. Exhibit A? 1979's Phantasm. Sure, it's low budget goodness, but Coscarelli's tale of an omnipotent Tall Man (played brilliantly by Angus Scrimm, pictured above), flying death spheres, and undead that look like Jawas is sure to entertain. Bonus points for the film's "steal appeal" – the Tall Man has been copied more than once, which is a sign of a great character.

The Thing – Now we're talking. John Carpenter's freak-o-rama still scares the hell out of me, and at the age of 36, I still can't watch it all the way through with my eyes open. Suspense, gore, and Wilford Brimley; this film has it all! Bonus points for (again) casting Kurt Russell. I love that guy!

Jaws – Yeah, I know it's not really a horror movie per se, but there isn't a film around that negatively affected me the way Jaws has. I still won't swim in a natural body of water for fear of a shark attack! Thank you, Steven Spielberg! Bonus points for casting the oft-inebriated Robert Shaw.

Back To Respectability

Someone call Hell and get the weather forecast.

The X-Men actually won a game last night, beating the Ice Bandits by a score of 5-1. I was as surprised as you were, considering the Bandits spanked us the last time we played, 6-0. The contest got a little chippy after the first period; yours truly took a lovely elbow to the jaw, and my linemate Chris took a stick to the face, causing a laceration above his eye. Chris couldn't care less about the injury - which probably needed stitches, but he wouldn't hear of it - his main concern was that he got blood all over his new jersey. Now that's a hockey player!

As far as ol' Wyatt is concerned, I didn't score any points, but played a pretty good defensive game, and kept the Bandits of the scoreboard when I was on the ice. (That's about the closest thing to "self praise" you'll get from me.) Long story short: I didn't suck.

The win puts the X-Men back at .500 (2-2), and on a collision course with "not half bad" status.

Warning Shots

Just a few things on my mind:

• Today I face a dilemma: my hometown Eagles are playing my favorite team, the Denver Broncos. My family will be watching the contest at my cousin Craig's home in King of Prussia. (Who exactly was the King of Prussia, anyway?) Since I am 100% evil (see yesterday's post), I plan to wear my Jake Plummer jersey amidst my Eagles-lovin' relatives. Heh.
• If there are any readers located in the Atlanta area, I would appreciate it if you would heckle and harass Thrashers defenseman Niclas Havelid for the remainder of the NHL season. A side bet in my fantasy hockey league involved the last team to have a player with no points would owe $5 to the pot. Although my team is currently in first place, Havelid had no points as of Wednesday morning, so I put him on waivers. That night, he scored a goal and an assist. Bastard!!!
• Tonight at 9pm the X-Men will try and crawl out of our two-game losing streak. Unfortunately, we have to again face the Ice Bandits – who spanked us by a score of 6-0 two weeks ago. Yay! Be there or kindly be square. (We could use the fans!)

Darth Vader Would Be Proud!

Yes, yes, yes!!! My family and friends were right!!!

You are 100% evil.Santa must of stopped visiting
you ages ago...


How evil are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Tragedy Defined

"Today is another bad day." – Fortune, Metal Gear Solid 2, Sons of Liberty

Late last night, the Philadelphia Police Department lost another active officer. Unfortunately, the events surrounding the loss are even more disturbing than usual. At approximately 9pm, an off-duty officer was involved in an auto accident while driving southbound on Interstate 95 approaching Callowhill Street. Three cars were involved, and there were injuries reported.

The off-duty officer (allegedly) was drunk.

When the Highway Patrol arrived on location, fire department personnel were cutting someone out of the other vehicle, so they asked the off-duty – who was allegedly at fault – to sit in the back of the police cruiser for his own safety. (The officer was standing on the highway as traffic was still passing by.) At the time, the off-duty officer was not under arrest, so he was not handcuffed. While sitting in the vehicle, the off-duty officer took out his personal firearm . . . and fatally shot himself.

Speculation from the officers at the scene is that the off-duty could see the firefighters using the Jaws of Life to extricate the people in the vehicle he struck, and – thinking he may have killed someone while driving drunk – decided to take his own life.

Either way, the entire situation is truly sad.

Here ya go, Linda . . .

now quit yer bitchin'!

Jessica Simpson!

No real post here. I just wanted to start the weekend off right!

Wagon Tales

Yours truly was stuck on the wagon last night . . . again. And as is usually the case, there were a few people who had me breaking out the duct tape. To wit:

1. Gladys Kravitz - Our first assignment was to meet a complainant outside her apartment complex. The residences cater to senior citizens, so when a sixty-something woman flagged us down, we knew we were in for some hilarity. "Gladys" informed us that there was a 20-year old man sitting outside one of the apartments, under a street light near the locked gate, and "he looked suspicious." As if looking "suspicious" is now in the PA Crimes Code.

I decided to play devil's advocate - well, for me, it's more like disgruntled civil servant - and asked her if he lived in the complex. She said no. I asked her how would she know, since the complex houses close to 5,000 residents, and she said, "I know for a fact that there are only three young people living here." Um, okay.

Finally, we grew tired of her idiocy and took a gander around the area. (I neglected to tell Gladys that if the man were casing cars, he probably wouldn't do it under the brightest light in the area.) After a minute or two, we found the man, who was catching a smoke while visiting his uncle. "Abner! Abner! The cops aren't arresting that man! Aaaaabner!!!"

2. AARP: Absolutely Asinine, Ridiculous, and Pathetic - We get a call to take the cell room to transport a prisoner to Police HQ. No problemo. Upon arrival, the turnkey tells us that our "prisoner" is a 60-year old woman who tried to cash a bad $1,000 check at the local bank. The turnkey brings her out and she is taking baby steps, supported only by her cane! My two-year old could have caught this broad. It gets better. The African-American woman had hot pink hair and was wearing a full-length fur. She looked like Snoop Dogg's grandmother. My partner and I were laughing all the way downtown. Pimpin' ain't easy!

3. Cops Are Stupid, Too - Don't think for a minute that idiotic cops get a pass here. When we get to the cell room at Police HQ with Gammy Snoop, she has to be examined by the nurse. While we are waiting our turn, the drunks start pouring in. (DUI's get first crack at the nurse, because they only have 2 hours to process them, lest the breathalyzer results be invalid.) One of the sots is a 19-year old college bimbo. She was hot . . . until she opened her mouth. Jesus, could she blather on and on. It was as if she had a blog! Anyway, she is very popular in the cell room with some of the male cops, and they strike up conversation. The bimbo says that she is studying to be a nurse (God help us), but is afraid of needles and blood. (Yeah, good career choice, dope!) The cop who is administering the breathalyzer tells her that she can "look in" on another DUI who is having his blood drawn (he refused the breath test). Here's where it gets good.

The cop uncuffs the 19-year old, and brings her to within two feet of the nurse, who is about to draw blood . . . with a needle. Anyone see something wrong with this picture yet? I'll wait . . .

SHE IS AN UNCUFFED PRISONER, AND THE COP IS PUTTING HER IN REACH OF A WEAPON!!!

My partner and I are staring in disbelief, until I walk over and tell the bimbo's arresting officer. The arresting officer runs over to the DUI cop and yells at the 19-year old drunk to "GET BACK!" The DUI cop says, "No, it's okay, I let her." The arresting officer retorts, "And will you be responsible if she stabs you in the neck with that needle? SHE IS A PRISONER!!!" At this point, the sergeant on duty comes running over, and takes the bimbo out of reach, glaring at the DUI cop. Cripes, what an a-hole.

10,000!!!

This lousy blog reached the 10,000 hit plateau at 3:28pm. The lucky reader is from Surgoinsville, Tennessee, - I don't believe it was a regular - and used "Jeanne Zelasko" as their search words. (He or she must have been looking for a butter face!)

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I am humbled by your support.

"White" Sox? That's Racist!

Thank God the Chicago White Sox swept the Houston Astros last night to win the World Series. By doing so, they got to "stick it to the man."

See, the Astros have no black players on their pennant-winning squad. This is an injustice that rivals slavery, women's suffrage, and the Khmer Rouge; at least according to pompous blowhard broadcaster Joe Morgan:

"Of course I noticed it. How could you not?" Morgan said while the Astros took batting practice before the opener in Chicago. "But they're not the only ones. There are two or three teams that didn't have any African-American players this year."

Obviously, these teams are racist. Unfortunately for Morgan (and other race baiters of his ilk) he failed to notice the rest of the makeup of the Houston team:

Houston has a half-dozen Hispanic players - it was the first team to open a baseball academy in Venezuela, about a dozen years ago. Bench coach Cecil Cooper is black. Outfielders Charles Gipson and Charlton Jimerson, both black, played for the Astros during the regular season.

Will someone please ask Joe if he thinks the lack of white players in other leagues, such as the NBA, is a major problem? I'm busy wrapping my skull in duct tape again.

Thankfully, the voice of reason in this story is Chisox GM Ken Williams (who is black):

"We're diverse because we're looking for the best in talent and character," general manager Ken Williams said before the Series started. "It just happened that way. I could care less what the makeup of the club is as long as it works as a whole."

I'm Sorry!

For sickening everyone with that Hillary pic yesterday. Please accept this Shania Twain offering as a gesture of my contrition.

This Day In History

124 years ago today, the Gunfight at the OK Corral took place. Here's a write-up from Wikipedia:

"During the day, reports of the cowboys going about with firearms and seeking more floated about Tombstone. Ike Clanton was noted claiming to want a showdown with the Earps. Virgil Earp, looking to enforce the town's law saying that firearms had to be checked in with local authorities, finally decided to approach Ike Clanton's group to demand they give up their guns.

Accompanied by his brothers Morgan and Wyatt, and soon by Holliday, they marched to the vacant lot near the corral. Virgil was able to say "Throw your hands up, I want your guns", but eyewitness testimony from this point gets sketchy, especially depending on the bias of the witnesses. The shooting began soon after and the fight lasted about 30 seconds.

Virgil and Morgan were seriously wounded, while Holliday received minor wounds. Wyatt remained standing. Ike Clanton, who had insisted on a showdown, ironically was unarmed and actually fled the gunfight unscathed. Billy Clanton and the McLaury brothers Frank and Tom were killed."

Gotta love this story. Holliday and the Earp brothers dishing out steaming, hot bowls of justice. Mmm . . . justice!

Idiots Need Not Apply

Take a gander at an e-mail my partner sent me yesterday. I thought she was messing with my head. This story, though seemingly unbelievable, is absolutely true. Welcome to the Theater of the Stupid:

"A call came out for a theft in progress at the Dollar General. I went because the sector car (of course) was nowhere to be found (Maria B.). I walk in and the girl (employee) tells me how this guy asked for an employment application and starts to fill it out. He then says, "This is too long, I'll be back when I finish it."

The man comes back with the application and gives it to the girl at the register. Then he asks for the manager. The girl goes to look for him and in less than a minute comes back to the front counter. The guy then puts a pack of gum on the counter, gives the girl a dollar, and then (as the girl is giving him his change) he sticks his hand in the register and takes $60.00 USC.

The man runs out of the store and down the block. After the girl gets done telling me what happened, she gives me the guys half-finished employment application with his name and address on it! I give out the description and all pertinent info, but the tactical unit couldn't make an apprehension on this guy. How stupid can you be, though, to leave an employment application at the store from where you just took money? DUH!!!!!!!!"

Duh! indeed. The greatest job security a police officer receives is the utter stupidity of criminals.

Over The "Hill"

(Damn you, Karl Rove! Get out of my bathroom!)

Let's all wish a very happy birthday to Senator (God, that still hurts to say) Hillary Rodham Clinton. Everyone's favorite shrew turns 58 today.

She doesn't look a day over 65.

Presidents For Dummies

Batten down the hatches, Wyatt is gonna talk about politics!

In this terribly divided nation, many citizens formulate an opinion of the Chief Executive primarily by listening to the mainstream media and syndicated radio talk shows. This usually results in diametrically opposed views of the President, depending upon which side of the political fence you currently sit. What this country needs is a brief, hopefully non-partisan history of the men in the Oval Office since 1960. Enter Support Your Local Gunfighter.

John F. Kennedy - The dashing war hero from Massachusetts (where have we heard that one before?) beat Richard Nixon like a rented mule in the 1960 election, primarily because Johnny was beefcake with a great ass. Thankfully, after the fluff, JFK had some substance. His creation of the Peace Corps was a brilliant move to rid the country of hippies, but he was about as savvy militarily as Michael Dukakis. The Bay of Pigs invasion was a disaster - he must have thought that one up while bedding Marilyn Monroe - and he got damned lucky during the Cuban Missile Crisis. That being said, had that scumbag Oswald not killed him - although that was a magnificent display of shooting - historians probably would have rated him in more high regard. SYLG Rating - Average (and, sadly, incomplete).

Lyndon B. Johnson - People talk about idiotic Presidents hailing from Texas? Johnson is their poster boy. What should we focus upon first, the civil rights riots, or his utter failure in Vietnam? He didn't handle either crisis effectively, and thus did not seek a second term - as if he would have been elected again. SYLG Rating - Below Average.

Richard M. Nixon - Ugh. Let's put aside Watergate for a moment, shall we? (Although it was the singularly most stupid act ever linked to a President, in my opinion.) Nixon's "plan" in Vietnam was more of the same - let's tell the troops we're trying to win, but not give them the tools to do so - when what the nation needed was new ideas for the war. Like LBJ, Nixon's greatest failure was Vietnam. However, "Tricky Dick" put the space program on the front burner, and set the wheels in motion for the space shuttle program. He was also smart enough to surround himself with a decent cabinet, the best choice of which was Kissinger as Secretary of State. SYLG Rating - Average (based solely on the space race).

Gerald R. Ford - When elected, Ford proclaimed, "Our long national nightmare is over." Unfortunately for Gerry, a new nightmare (his Presidency) was just beginning. Inflation crippled the economy, and his "Whip Inflation Now" (WIN) buttons were swell - until everyone realized that the buttons were the answer, because there wasn't a strategy to go along with it. Continually battling the divided Congress, Ford got little done in the way of domestic policy; which was a good thing, considering his disgraceful foreign policy (anyone remember Khmer Rouge?). The voters did, and elected Jimmy Carter to replace Ford! SYLG Rating - Below Average.

Jimmy Carter - Carter must have created his "Misery Index" to rate his time in the White House. Hell, he couldn't even pass any legislation with his own party in control! A miserable failure as a President, he was another in a long line of "Lesser of Two Evils" choices. As far as his cabinet, check out The Mitrokhin Archive: A History of the KGB and look up Carter's Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, who was a little "too friendly" with some KGB contacts. SYLG Rating - BRUTAL!

Ronald Reagan - Who'd have thought a former actor would make such a damned good President? Reagan had his frak ups (Iran-Contra comes to mind), but overall, both his domestic and foreign policies were things of beauty. Credited (in my opinion, a little too much) with the fall of Communism - it was bound to happen sooner or later, Reagan just sped up the process - he is seen as an icon by many conservatives and liberals. "The Great Communicator" is perhaps the greatest President in the last fifty years - although I'd take Theodore Roosevelt as the best all-time. SYLG Rating - Above average.

George H. W. Bush - "Read my lips: no new taxes." Hey, George: two words: Gulf War. Bush completely bungled the Gulf War by not continuing on to Baghdad. His indecision cost millions of Iraqi lives when Saddam Hussein was left in power. The current Iraq war would probably not be necessary if Bush the First had done what was necessary in 1991. Sorry, but this has been a thorn in my side for almost fifteen years now. Credit Bush with surrounding himself with a terrific cabinet (like Reagan), but in the end, there was no way he was going to beat Clinton in 1992. SYLG Rating - Average.

Bill Clinton - Here's my take on Clinton: he was too busy worrying what everyone else thought to be an effective leader. Thus explains his wishy-washy foreign policy. Clinton refused to send in armor during the Raid on Mogadishu (remember Black Hawk Down?) because he didn't want to offend the U.N., nor did he fully commit efforts in Kosovo and Rwanda to stop the genocides there. Many citizens think highly of Clinton personally - which is probably what is important to him; hell, I voted for him in '92 - but as a Chief Executive, he was lacking. He remains with Andrew Johnson as the only two Presidents ever to be impeached. SYLG Rating - Below Average.

George W. Bush - Although his Presidency is incomplete, Bush has followed the Reagan/Bush model for his cabinet: surround yourself with good people, and you look good. Give credit where it is due: despite the current unpopularity of the Iraq war, Bush has taken the fight to them; instead of letting them bring it to us. Of course, his "policy" on illegal immigration is a disgrace, and the borders resemble NASCAR tracks. SYLG Rating - Average (but incomplete).

Vote Or Dye!

Somebody call Schoolhouse Rock!

"BAGHDAD, Iraq - Iraq's constitution was adopted by a majority in a fair vote during the Oct. 15 referendum, as Sunni Arab opponents failed to muster enough support to defeat it, election officials said Tuesday. A prominent Sunni politician called the balloting 'a farce.'"

Somebody complaining about balloting? Wow. They're getting more and more like America everyday. Welcome to democracy, guys!

Caption Me Thankful

Two in a row!

I won GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest . . . again! Whoo hoo! Despite my usual self-deprecating tendencies, for the first time ever, I actually believe mine was the funniest entry. Hell, even Rodney Dill was laughing!

Admittedly, though, I was surprised I won, since my team "The Gunfighters" rolled over The Man's team in fantasy football this week. Sorry 'bout that, chief.

Cue Lou Gehrig

"You suck-diddly-uck Flanders!" - Homer Simpson, The Simpsons

Today, I consider myself the suckiest man on the face of the earth.

At some point in every man's life comes the realization that he isn't a kid anymore. Mine came about six years ago, when I hit the big 3-0. Still, I kept convincing myself that I could play ice hockey with kids ten years younger than me, because I was smarter, knew more about the game, and gosh darn it, people liked me. (Wow, a Stuart Smalley reference!) Last night, I realized that my brain doesn't have to chase these little bastards up and down the ice - my legs do.

Nothing like having life kick you in the jimmies.

Remember that one game winning streak we had? Me neither. Our team lost again last night, 7-3, and it wasn't even that close. Our record is now 1-2, and even thought it is a 30-game season, things are looking about as good as Kirstie Alley in a thong.

First With Flair!!!

"Would you like smoking or non-smoking?"

With all apologies to Steve, someone else was first with flair today. Jeff Gordon won the Subway 500 ("I'm on the Jared diet!") at Martinsville Speedway, just barely staying ahead of Tony Stewart (yes, GunnNutt, I am laughing at you, and not with you). It was Gordon's 73rd career win, which means he is only three away from tying the career high of the immortal Dale Earnhardt. Frankly, after six months, I am surprised he didn't ask for directions to Victory Lane!

Wow, a Gordon win and a late Rusty Wallace spin - it's Miller time!!!

An Open Letter To Major League Baseball

To whom it may concern,

As a pseudo-baseball fan, I wanted to take this opportunity to suggest some ways to improve the game. Of course, your pomposity will compel you to ignore my ideas, but I feel it my duty to mention them just the same. Batter up.

The Season – Okay, a 162-game season is ridiculous. There is no logical reason for the first game of the World Series to be played on October 22. The damned players were wearing mittens and scarves!

The Wyatt Plan: Implement a 140-game season, and it must end by September 30. Otherwise, every team's players from south of the border are permanently deported.

Celebrities – I don't give a rat's ass if there is a celebrity in the stands. I also don't want to hear a celebrity sing during the game. That tradition should have died with Harry Carey. Did anyone hear the lousy rendition of "God Bless America" by Liz Phair last night? I know my dog did, since I heard him howling from six miles away!

The Wyatt Plan: Any cameraman who captures a celebrity "fan" will be strangled with a microphone cord. Also, any celebrity in the stands "rooting" for a particular team must be able to name the players on said team. If not, they are not true fans (read: only there "to be seen"), and will be brutally beaten. Finally, any celebrity requesting to sing The National Anthem, God Bless America, or Take Me Out to the Ball Game will be immediately shot. That outta settle their hash.

Broad-casters – Note to Fox Sports: Jeanne Zelasko is Queen of the Butter Face. The helmet hair doesn't help, either.

The Wyatt Plan: Fire her ugly ass and re-hire someone whose face doesn't shatter my rear-projection television. Think Jennie Finch. She knows baseball, and she makes Jeanne Zelasko look like Leonid Brezhnev.

These three easy steps will revitalize the game, and cut down the incredible amount of Americans who despise baseball in its current form. Try 'em; don't cost nothin'.

Stupid (Sports) Questions

What exactly is the mascot of Ball State University?

Do you think it would be okay if I punched Chris Berman in the mouth?

How funny would it be if the Chicago White Sox threw the World Series again?

Does anyone else think that the new NBA dress code is ridiculous? I mean, if they dress themselves up in suits and classy clothes, we may forget that most of them are thugs.

Can we all agree that LPGA golfer (not the cylon) Grace Park is a Robo-babe?

Oh . . . My . . . God!

"I, Katie, am willing to accept Tom's demon seed."

The final sign of the apocalypse is upon us . . . Katie Holmes is pregnant with Tom Cruise's child.

"It's a dream come true," the actress said on the syndicated entertainment news show "Access Hollywood" Thursday. "I feel great, (being pregnant) is so beautiful. I've never been so happy. ... I'm beaming." She's not beaming; that's just the "aura" of L. Ron Hubbard shining through her loins.

Reports that the "Church" of Scientology told Katie that she feels this way have not been confirmed.

Does anyone have some holy water and a crucifix?

The Village Idiot

A warrant has been issued by a California court for Victor Willis (pictured, above). Willis, who was the original policeman for The Village People, failed to appear on cocaine charges. I find it difficult to believe that Mr. Willis - the man who made me want to become a cop - could be involved in any wrongdoing.

What's next, will someone tell me that O.J. Simpson is the prime suspect in a double murder?

A "Jump" To Conclusions Mat

(Mariano's henchmen "taking care of" evidence.)

It's always about him.

Uber-corrupt Philadelphia City Councilman Rick Mariano sprinted to the top of the City Hall tower this afternoon, threatening to kill himself over his upcoming federal indictment. The charges? Corruption, what else? With all due respect to Jimmy B, Mariano is a former union electrician, and Philadelphia's union leadership makes gangland Chicago look respectable! Mariano has denied the corruption charges, and - laughably - claimed that he is only a target because he is a "blue collar guy" and because of his "lack of pigmentation." Puh-lease!

Let me give you a little background on the "esteemed" councilman, since I have dealt with this poor excuse for a civil servant many, many times:

In every election in which Mariano has run, his union goons have intimidated and/or threatened voters as they entered the polls. Mariano, of course, denied these charges, but the absurd amount of police reports refutes his claims.

When I worked in the Kensington section of the city (read: white trash heaven), Mariano, who is not a police officer, would make car stops and call us for backup! The first words out of his mouth were always, "Do you know who I am?," then he would demand that we arrest/ticket the operator of the vehicle for whatever offense he deemed appropriate. Of course, while we were "backing up" this piece of detritus, the real criminals were raping and pillaging the district. What could we do? He was a councilman, and he had the power to get us transferred, post haste.

Unfortunately, the coward didn't jump, as I knew he wouldn't. He just wanted the media coverage and sympathy from any prospective juries. So, excuse me for laughing at his demise just a little bit.

(Mariano, distraught over his upcoming stay in Federal "Pound You In The Ass" Prison)

A Middie Back! Moment

As The Man can attest, my previous blog, Middie Back!, was comprised mostly of political diatribes and constant vitriolic secretions of bile. Every Friday was "People I Hate" day, where I took my anger out on the public, instead of putting it in the happy box. Thankfully, I am now a kindler, gentler blogger, who usually leaves politics and hatred to the experts (read: not me).

Today, however, we're going back in time. Strap yourselves in.

Last night I sprint into roll call only to find out that my a**hole sergeant put me on the wagon. Normally, that would make me break out the duct tape for my skull, but I was paralyzed with rage. See, last week, I did the sergeants a huge favor by working inside. The usual toad was "off sick" (read: drunk, sleeping, or a combination of the two), and I had to bail them out. No problemo, but don't immediately screw me afterwards.

Not only did the good (read: jerkoff) sergeant screw me last night, but he didn't even grease me up, nor did he give me the common courtesy of a reach-around. As my partner and I were heading out to the wagon, we realize that last night was "bringdown" night. I verbalized my thoughts succinctly: "F**K!!!" On bringdown night, the district wagon must trek over to the prisons, load up the truck with the prisoners/human detritus, and bring them down to the district court. It's about a three-hour job.

At 3am, we start over to the Detention Center. The guard meets us outside, and says that we can't even enter the grounds until 5am - meaning any chance of us getting home on time is nixed. He tells us to park the wagon and "chill out" for two hours. Sure thing boss, 'cause these vans are just perfect for sleepin'. ASS!!!

Five o'clock rolls in, and I'm getting "the twitch." Barney Fife lets us into the receiving area and we ask the flunky how long we'll have to wait for the felons. "Oh, they won't be down until at least 6am, guys. Have a seat and relax." I verbalized my thoughts succinctly: "F**K!!!" Okay, I am disarmed in a lobby where prisoners are roaming free. Do ya think I'm gonna take a nap, you jackass?

The 6am guests of the state start trickling down, and we notice that three of our five scumbags are here. That's when the next rocket scientist mentions that the other two are in the infirmary (and, no, Bill, I am guessing the doctor isn't a hottie, like on Prison Break). It is gonna be at least fifteen more minutes. The time is now 6:30am, and we are supposed to report off at 7:15!

By 6:40, we are loaded and ready to go. Luckily, Gerry makes like Jeff Gordon and weaves in and out of rush hour traffic to get us to HQ by 7am. After herding the assclowns into their temporary cells, we make like sheep and get the flock outta there. My last comment to my partner was, "F**k this job!"

And f**k you, sarge! See if I ever do you a favor again.

A "Vested" Interest In Safety

Hey, guess what I found out last night? Our current ballistic vests probably won't stop a "spork." (That's a fork/spoon combination found in many camping stores.) According to the manufacturer - whom I refuse to name, lest I act upon my desires to set their corporate offices ablaze - there is a defect in the batch, which is allegedly in the thousands, and it has already cost a New York police officer his life.

As is usually the case, the city of Philadelphia is all over the problem, and the hot rumors are that the defective vests will be replaced sometime between the beginning of November and summer!

Until then, I better hope I don't get into any firefights, huh?

My So-Called Career

Here's a Mystery Question of Life: Whatever happened to Claire Danes?

Judging by her posture, she doesn't know, either.

An SYLG News Break

I found a couple of entertainment items that alone didn't warrant an entire post, but definitely deserved a wiseass comment or two. To wit:

Hurricane Wilma Scrubs Mexico's MTV Awards - Damnit! Now I've gotta disengage my TiVo.

Kutcher, Moore romance inspires sitcom - Strangely enough, it will be entitled, "Child's Play."

Courteney Cox OK With Daughter Watching TV - Wow, I'm so glad little "Coco" enjoys the idiot box. Um, you're not Madonna, Courteney, okay. Thus, no one cares.

Ex-'SNL' Comedian's Death Ruled a Suicide - Charles Rocket, we hardly knew ye. No, really, I only heard of this guy because he played David Addison's brother on an episode of Moonlighting.

White Trash Meets Mecca

This is gonna be a mix between the O.J. trial (he is still guilty as sin, IMO) and a freakishly over-the-top episode of The Jerry Springer Show:

BAGHDAD, Iraq - A defiant Saddam Hussein pleaded innocent to charges of murder and torture as his long-awaited trial began Wednesday with the one-time dictator arguing about the legitimacy of the court and scuffling with guards.

After reading this, I can't help but think about the scene in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me where Dr. Evil brawls with the KKK guy.

Stupid Questions

Will someone please tell Sylvester Stallone to just give it up already?

Does anyone think that President Bush will receive any credit for the national murder rate dropping to a 40-year low? Nah, neither do I.

Did you notice that this week's episode of Saturday Night Live was entitled "The Best of David Spade?" I was surprised they didn't run a test pattern for ninety minutes; it would have been funnier.

It is possible to burn out a DVD player from overuse? I just purchased Batman Begins, and plan to run it on a continuous loop until I have to go back to work on Wednesday night!

And The Horse Was DOA

"Come on, Fish, smile! You look good in maize and blue!"

Yeah, I know. I keep beating a dead horse here, but I just can't help myself. This is my brother-in-law Mike (aka "Fish"). He and his lovely bride are Penn State grads, and (naturally) rabid football fans. Last week, Fish bet me that if Penn State beat Michigan, I would have to wear PSU's colors, and vice versa if Michigan beat the Nittany Lions.

We all know the outcome of that game. Tee hee hee!

Any hoo, I just wanted to bask in my mercy, since I only made Fish wear a Wolverines football jersey. He and his wife Sharon were prepared to outfit me in a jersey, boxer shorts, slippers, and any other damned thing they had in their abode. Sharon was even suggesting she would paint a paw print on my face! (And you just know that those pics would be flooding the net by now!)

And with that, the Michigan/Penn State game is now history.

Quick, Rub My Blog For Luck!

Holy crap! It's been a banner weekend. First, Michigan beats Penn State on a last second TD (and USC does the same to Notre Dame). Then, the Denver Broncos spank the New England Patriots. Finally, the Atlanta Falcons beat the New Orleans Ain'ts on their second try for a last second field goal. (I'm not a Falcons fan, but I picked them for my friend Gerry's suicide pool. Whoo hoo!)

Today, I won GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest! Frankly, I didn't think my entry was all that funny, but feel free to stop by and judge for yourself. Sooner or later, my luck is gonna run out.

Meddle Round

Much like Britney Spears' acceptance of Kevin "Joe Dirt" Federline's demon seed, Friday's self-invitation inside your psyche may have been a terrible mistake. I'm in over my head. It took far too long, but (in my son's best Noo Yawk accent) I got yer answers right here! Good mental health; my gift to you.

Pandy asks, "Dear Earpy, I am completely normal, and everyone I know is totally nuts, even my infant son. I am worried that it could be catching. Can I get the crazies from other people?"

Pandy, unlike the clap, "the crazies" are not contagious. That being said, the tattoos, shaved head, and sometimes irritable disposition probably keep insanity at bay.

Peakah asks, "Doctah Earpy-poo, I get into stare downs with Tha Wease when I confront him with going pee on the potty. He braces himself for battle each and every time I try and get him to pee in the toilet. Am I better off locking him outside naked where he can just let 'er fly, or should I continue to force him in the bathroom when he has to . . . go?"

Peak, have you tried rubbing his nose in it? If that doesn't do the trick, bribery will. The wife and I gave Kyle (our four-year old) a present every time he used the potty – Matchbox cars!

Jimmy B asks, "Dear Wyatt, am I normal if I know archaic Pink Floyd releases and relate them to blog posts?"

Jimmy, I'm sorry, the operator just broke in and told me there was a collect call for Mr. Floyd from Mrs. Floyd, and to be honest, I don't want to accept the charges. Click!

Dr. Phat Tony asks, "I'm the standard for normality, so wouldn't that mean that everyone who is not like me is abnormal?"

Doc, you are the standard for normality like Paris Hilton is the standard for abstinence. On the other hand, a recent sidebar audit revealed that most of my blog friends are a tad "askew." Why do you think I haven't suggested a blogger get-together?

Steve asks, "Hi, Dr. Earpy! Those ink spot pictures sure look like dead hippies to me. Is that normal, and what should I do with that?"

Steve, you are dead on. In fact, those are not ink spots, but the scattered, THC-contaminated brain matter of world renowned hippies Jane and Peter Fonda. Now stop obsessing, and shine on, you crazy diamond. You're hung up on some clown from the Sixties, man! (Oh man, I got the munchies!)

Insolublog asks, "Dr. Earpy, what do you do with a bimodal bulimic when they are: a) manic binging, b) manic purging, c)depressive binging, and d) depressive purging?"

Insol, a) keep your hands away from their mouths, b) keep your hands away from their toilet, c) tell them they are very special and keep your hands away from their mouth, and d) tell them they are very special and keep your hands away from their toilet.

Indigoview (eventually) asks, "What are you wearing right now?"

Indigo, the usual: shirtless, with a powder blue mesh Speedo, and stiletto heels.

Cowboy Blob asks, "What piece do you pack on duty, and what would you pack if they let you carry anything you wanted to?" He adds, "Is your duty weapon an extension of your phallus, and why do you hate your mother?"

Cowboy, when I'm on duty (heh, heh, "duty") I carry the city-issued 9mm Glock 17. If given the choice, I would probably carry a Desert Eagle with the following accessories: silencer, loudener, laser sight, and bayonet. You can never be too prepared. My duty weapon is an extension of my phallus, since even on warm days; I have considerable "shrinkage." Damned Irish curse! As for Mommy Dearest, my partner Doris could probably explain that one better than I.

Pandy (again) asks, "Dear Earpy, not to trouble you again, but Mr. Blob's question makes me worry that I could have penis envy, because I miss my MK-19 so much. I must have caught someone's crazy – it's going around like the bird flu. (I never kiss birds for this reason.)"

Pandy, penis envy is the biggest myth this side of a sober Irishman. However, if you are truly worried, I will mail you the "packages" of the Philadelphia Eagles, since they obviously have no use for them anymore.

Tyler D asks, "Why are bloggers crazy?"

Ty, it's because some in the mainstream media think we have the power supreme, when in reality, we are just dateless nerds who spend way too much time in our basements. Sure, we average over 200 hits a day, but what are we doing on Friday nights? Sitting home alone and recreating classic scenes with our Star Wars action figures. Or, so I've heard.

Uber asks, "Dear Earpy, is it abnormal at all to have a deep-seated desire to meddle in other's affairs? How about just an ordinary interest in watching others?"

Uber, Human nature dictates that our curiosity needs to be constantly fed . . . like Camryn Manheim. And I needed an idea for a blog post. As far as ordinary interest in watching others, count me in. Damn the restraining order, I'm leaving the blogosphere in favor of my new career: watching Jessica Biel.

Insolublog (again) asks, "Should I feed a dog Milk Bones if it has a potentially fatal case of lactose intolerance? Should I call 911 if I do?"

Insol, Milk Bones are okay, because they are made from breast milk, which is all natural. It's the titanium residue from the logo stamping that is fatal. If you forget this tidbit and Spot takes a trip to the big Dog Pound in the sky, do not call 911. That number is for emergencies only. The non-emergency number is 912. Good luck!

D. Maria asks, "Dear Earpy, where were you back in June when I needed help getting over the fact that just about my ENTIRE family moved as far away from Philadelphia (brotha's and sista's runnin' it) as possible?"

D. Maria, I was packing, what else? For those not in the know, a few years ago our asinine mayor (who is African-American) proclaimed that "the brothas and sistas are running the city!" Since then, the crime rate has skyrocketed, most of the tax base has left town, and many of the mayor's inner circle have been indicted for corruption.

Nightcrawler asks, "What do you get when you cross a hippy with a bar of soap?"

Nightcrawler, a) confusion, b) soap scum, or c) hopefully, a brutal beating similar to the one Private Pyle received in Full Metal Jacket.

Stinking On Ice

(The author, foreground, realizing a 6-0 deficit sucks)

Wow. That "winning streak" didn't last long. After starting the season with a thrilling 7-4 victory, our hockey team came out flatter than Kate Moss' chest. The Ice Bandits kicked our ice, and we lost the disgusting display, 6-0. On a brighter note, I got creamed twice; once by an opposing defenseman, and once by my linemate Chris (pictured above, far right, blue pants)! As I write this, my elbow is swelling and my, um, arse is so sore I can't even sit still.

The entire team lived up to our name. We played like "ex men"; namely, post-op transsexuals.

Oceans 11

Eleven years ago today, I joined the Philadelphia Police Department. (Whoo hoo! Only nineteen more years until I can retire!) The family is still ashamed of me. What kind of moron pays one gazillion dollars to go to SJU to become a police officer? Uh, me I guess. I probably underachieved in life, but I truly love my job, and frankly, I'm pretty good at it. No regrets here.

Previously On "Lost"

Will someone please give me directions to the Flyers Skate Zone in Northeast Philadelphia? I'm not sure I can find it after so long. Our hockey season began two weeks ago, but the brain surgeon who makes the schedule decided to give us a BYE week after the first damned game! Any hoo, the X-Men will take the ice tonight at 7:20pm to try and keep our undefeated streak alive, um, which is currently at one game. The complete wrap up (including any injuries to yours truly) will follow.

Leave Room For The Holy Spirit

My four-year old son Kyle had his first sleepover on Friday night . . . and it was with a chick! My wife's friend Jill asked if her daughter Ashleigh could stay the night while Jill was visiting friends in the city. Ashleigh is also four, and Kyle loves when she visits. The missus decided that the two would sleep in Kyle's room (the boy in the bed, and the young lady in the keen Spider-man sleeping bag). Normally, I would be crass enough to give the lad a high five, but (for some inexplicable reason) I thought it uncomfortable. Could I be maturing? Nah.

Of course, nothing untoward would happen, but it was still a little bizarre. I mean, I felt like someone's dad - and that's not a good role for me.

Mercifully, I had to work that night, since it looked as if the two would never go to sleep. They talked and laughed for an hour. Then Ashleigh wanted her mommy. Swell. Since that wasn't gonna happen, they asked for my flashlight. Yeah, like I would give them something to keep them up even longer. Why not just give them my pistol? Finally, Leanne entered their room and told Kyle that it was time to go to sleep. About five minutes later, they were snoring. Kyle lasted the night, but Ashleigh woke up a number of times for a combination of "shadows" and "crickets" in the room. Admitting defeat, Leanne moved her into our room, where she managed to catch some Z's.

This parenting stuff is hard. How long until the kids leave for college?

A-Maize-ing Grace

I have never prayed harder for a Michigan football win as I will today. This afternoon at 3:30pm (EDT), my Wolverines will be battling the (highly dubious) 6-0 Penn State Nittany Lions. Loyal readers of SYLG know that my three favorite college football teams are Michigan, and whomever is playing Notre Dame and PSU. Today's matchup, however, is really important to yours truly, because a bet is involved. No, it's not money, but something more desirable - pride.

My in-laws are rabid PSU fans. My brother-in-law went there, and since my wife's school is Division III, no one cares about them. Simply stated, the entire clan is obnoxious with the Blue and White, and when their only daughter married a huge Michigan booster, all was not well in Mudville. So, it was no surprise when my brother-in-law Mike e-mailed me the challenge:

• If Michigan wins, I get to dress Mike in the Blue and Maize from head to toe for our family dinner on Sunday evening, as well as our hockey game Sunday night.
• If Penn State (God forbid) wins, I will be humiliated by wearing Nittany Lion apparel in front of the in-laws and my hockey team.

That's the deal. And I have no confidence in the Wolverines to pull this one off, so if I don't post on Sunday or Monday, it's because I literally died of embarrassment.

UPDATE: Michigan scored a game-winning TD with 0:01 on the clock!!! I'm still waiting for my heart to start beating again.

"White Zinfandel. Shaken, Not Stirred."

Posts about MGM's new choice for James Bond (Daniel Craig) are about as common as folks who "made it" with Paris Hilton nowadays. Dave at Garfield Ridge has a great James Bond Haiku Contest going on through Sunday, and the late night talk shows are abuzz with info on the new guy – as well as some of those who were passed over.

One of those have-nots is Hugh Jackman, who played the role of Wolverine in the X-Men films. According to Hollywood sources, Jackman did not get the role because he "seemed too gay." Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Am I missing something here? There isn't a more testosterone-laden character in all of Christendom than Wolverine, and Jackman pulled it off superbly. Besides, since when are the Broccoli brothers concerned with the sexuality of their bread and butter? I mean is there a bigger poster boy for "flamboyance" than Roger Moore? Gayer than a French horn.

Break Out The Marshmallows

Motley Crue tickets have been selling like hotcakes.

He's been a drummer, a part-time porn star, a "college student," and now Tommy Lee is extra crispy. Taking a page out of the Michael Jackson handbook, Lee suffered burns to his hair and arms after catching fire during a concert stunt. (I guess anything soaked with that much alcohol is bound to be highly flammable.) Early reports that Lee purposely lit himself on fire to kill off Pamela Anderson's germs have not been confirmed.

"Meddle" Update

I'm in a quagmire here. I realized (too late) that tomorrow is Saturday, and usually SYLG is a ghost town on the weekend. I'll still post the answers, but I may hold off until Monday morning if that's okay. It's hard to distinguish between a weekday and a weekend when you're on shift work. (All I know is that I am working until Monday morning.)

Anyway, since we have a few days, the deadline for questions will be 3pm (EDT) on Sunday afternoon. That will give me time to print them up before my hockey game and work. For the record, the questions so far have been awesome . . . and I think I'm in over my head!

Testing My Meddle

"I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids." - Every single Scooby Doo villain

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Stealing other blogger's ideas? Not so much. Inspired to action by the likes of Dr. Phat Tony and Fmragtops, yours truly will try his hand at a question and answer session. Instead of answering questions about the meaning of life (a la the good Doctor) or interpreting your dreams (a la Fmragtops) , I will tackle the daunting subject of psychiatry. You folks need help, and I would like to meddle in your affairs. Just think of me as Dear Earpy.

Audience participation is encouraged, so break out the crayons. Post your questions in the comments section below, and I will have all of your answers tomorrow.

Royale With Cheese

"I'm lactose intolerant. I have absolutely no patience for lactose." - Jerry Seinfeld, Seinfeld

Yesterday, I regaled you with tales of an idiotic citizenry. Today, we will learn about the criminal mind . . . or lack thereof.

My police district headquarters is currently housing arrested juveniles. To be more specific, we are holding males until their hearing. Anyway, since the darling little cherubs are stuck in cells for at least six hours, they need to be fed. The current Philadelphia Police menu for all prisoners consists of a cheese sandwich and an iced tea. Yummy! It's pretty disgusting, but screw 'em, they broke the law.

One of the innocent little kiddies was given the meal du jour, and ate it immediately. After a while, he was released with a notice to appear in court this morning. No big deal, right? Wrong.

A few hours later, the father of innocent little Johnny called the district ranting and raving about our "mistreatment" of his pride and joy. It seems that Johnny is lactose intolerant, and has been puking since he got home. Daddy demanded to file a Complaint Against Police report, because "you cops force-fed my son that cheese sandwich!"

Okay, first of all, we don't force-feed anyone (except maybe Lindsay Lohan or Calista Flockhart). The department policy is that we offer the prisoners a meal. Whether or not they accept it is their decision. Second of all, little Johnny is SIXTEEN YEARS OLD!!! It's not like we were accused of stuffing a sandwich down the throat of a five-year old. Finally, if little Johnny is lactose intolerant, why the hell would he eat a cheese sandwich???

I swear to God, I am one more stupid person away from setting up in a clock tower with a high-powered rifle!

Reason #1 . . .

. . . why Smallville is on my TiVo Season Pass. It's been a while since I posted some eye candy around here (at least candy that can't beat you half to death), so I wanted to introduce everyone to Erica Durance, who plays Lois Lane.

Makes Teri Hatcher look like a pile of puke.

Duct Tape Alert!

Break it out, I need to wrap my head before it explodes!!!

I heard this appalling story on the Michael Smerconish radio program this morning. Long story short: Captain Adam Cubbage of the Army's 173rd Airborne Brigade - who has been awarded the combat parachute badge and a Bronze Star for his service in Iraq - goes to Philly International Airport enroute back to action in Afghanistan. The captain is dressed in BDU's, and is carrying his ID, tickets, and orders. The next thing he knows, a rocket scientist from the TSA chooses him for "secondary screening," which means he has to remove his combat boots and outer garments during a wand search.

Okay, deep breath.

The captain is dressed in BDU's, and is carrying his orders, ID, and plane tickets. Sounds like al Qaeda to me. The next thing you know, they'll be strip searching nuns.

Check out the full story here, and the accompanying letter for your congressman/senator.

That Dog Won't Hunt

"It's a dog-eat-dog world, and I'm wearing Milk-Bone underwear." - Norm Peterson, Cheers

I have been miserable as of late, since the area has been in the clutches of incessant rain, and Philly hasn't seen the sun in a week. As a result, I have had even less patience for the nonsense that comes with the badge in this town.

Last night didn't help matters.

The platoon came out of roll call and immediately a priority job came over the air: "All cars stand by. In the *** District, 9455 ****** Road, Burglary in Progress, Apartment 2B, female complainant hears someone inside. The female is out front."

Three units (including me) respond and rush to the scene with lights and sirens on a wet, slick road. Nice. We pull up to the apartment, and a teenage girl runs out to met us. We follow her inside and up the stairs, when the following exchange takes place:

Wyatt: "What's the problem?"

Complainant: "My dog died."

Wyatt: "What?"

Complainant: "My dog died!"

Wyatt: "Is someone breaking into your apartment?"

Complainant: "No."

Wyatt: "Then why did you call the police?"

Complainant: "I told you, my dog died, and I need you to get rid of it."

When I calmly told the complainant that "dog disposal" was not in a police officer's job description, she was dumbfounded. Then she asked what she was supposed to do with it. My backup, Gerry, said (deadpan), "Bury it."

Now, I know everyone is expecting me to string a long list of expletives together after such an incident, but I just don't have the energy. I will, however, offer up this little wisdom nugget:

9-1-1 IS FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY!!! A DECEASED DOG IS NOT AN EMERGENCY, NO MATTER HOW MANY TRICKS HE USED TO DO!!!

A Real-Life Pulp Fiction Moment

"It's the Medical Examiner. He says that Vera is dead."

There's a great scene in Pulp Fiction where Vincent and Jules debate the actions (or over-reaction) of Marcellus Wallace. Allegedly, Marcellus threw his Samoan associate Tony Rocky Horror out a window for giving Wallace's wife a foot massage. Of course, that type of thing just happens in the movies, right?

Obviously not.

Yesterday in my delightful hometown a man threw a deli worker through a plate glass window after a dispute over a sandwich!!! The deli clerk died from his injuries. Full story.

Hey, I'm not a big fan of mayo on my sandwich, either, but Jesus Christ!!!

Vote Or Die

Personally, I hope he chooses die.

Saddam Hussein (aka the Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla and The Southern Dandy) may get the right to vote on Iraq's new constitution. The vote will happen three years to the day of Iraq's last "election," where he received 100 percent of the votes!

Sexy bastard!

Ten Pinhead

"If horse racing is the sport of kings, then surely bowling is a . . . very good sport as well." - Homer Simpson, The Simpsons

It's no secret that my greatest character flaw (and there are many) is that I am much too competitive. It runs in my family, but I usually kick it up a notch. "Game night" with my extended clan (usually guys versus girls) is brutal because when the guys win, we are far from graceful. Hence the chant of "Men, men, men, men!" So, when I went bowling last night with my partner Doris and two of our dispatchers, I tried to tone it down.

Didn't work.

First, Doris needs serious instruction on bowling etiquette. When someone (namely, me) is about to release the ball, polite society doesn't yell things out like "Your butt looks big!" I love Doris (I tell everyone she is my "work wife"), and I know she would take a bullet for me, but she is not above flipping me off if I get the occasional strike, or trying to break my concentration by making comments in the middle of a backswing. Weasel!

Second, when someone says they "suck at bowling," they DAMN WELL BETTER SUCK AT BOWLING!!! We played about ten games, and I think Doris and I split the wins. Unfortunately, she not only won the last game (which means I'll have to dwell on that for months), but she also slaughtered me in one game, 143-93! That's a fifty point margin, for those of you in Rio Linda. I'm not even gonna dignify her turkey (three strikes in a row) or the two times she threw a gutter ball, then made the frakkin' spare!!! Oh yeah, she's terrible.

Finally, here's a little tip for anyone unfortunate enough to play sports with me. When I'm down, don't try and cheer me up. By the end of the night, I was cursing myself for the stupid mistakes that were becoming all too common, when Doris turned to me and said, "It's okay, it's only the four of us here." Reading between the lines, she was actually saying, "Don't worry, we won't tell the guys at work how bad you suck." Swell.

Despite my sub-par performance, we all had a terrific time, and hopefully, we'll get to do it again soon.

Hear that, Dor? Next time we hit the lanes, you're toast!!!

Sloppy Seconds

I've still got it! Well, sort of. I took second place in GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest!! Check out all of this weekend's entries. Funny stuff.

Watching The Day Go By

(I will be getting a three-day weekend now, right?)

In honor of Columbus Day, we here at SYLG wanted to give props to Hollywood's greatest I-talians. There are many folks who have grave misconceptions about Italian-Americans. But I learned something recently; despite the stereotypes, not all of our friends from the Old Country are involved in organized crime. Go figure.

George Costanza – Jerry Seinfeld's best friend has made many contributions to American pop culture, including "shrinkage," "yada, yada, yada," and the acceptability of knocking down women and children when escaping a fire. Classic quote: "Let me tell you something Jerry. A man without hand is not a man. I've got so much hand I'm coming out of my gloves. "

Jeff Spicoli – Ridgemont High's resident stoner/surfer dude is the poster boy for slackers everywhere. Brazenly ignoring Nancy Reagan's "Say no to drugs" mantra, Spicoli smoked more weed than Snoop Dogg . . . and hilarity ensued. Classic quote: "That was my skull! I'm so wasted!"

Vincent Coccotti – Okay, Vincent is involved in organized crime, but that's neither here nor there. True Romance's "counsel" to Blue Lou Boyle is evil personified. Just ask Dennis Hopper. After a brilliant exchange about the lineage of Sicilians, Coccotti shoots Hopper in the head. Classic quote: "They snatched my narcotics, hightailed it outta there. Woulda got away with it, but your son, f**khead that he is, left his driver's license in a dead guy's hand."

Dante Hicks – (His first name sounds Italian.) Clerks' head clerk is a classic head case. Whether disputing the innocence of the second Death Star's civilian contractors or counting the times his girlfriend gave other guys a Lewinsky, Dante is a credit to his ethnicity. Classic quote: "'Empire' had the better ending. I mean, Luke gets his hand cut off, finds out Vader's his father, Han gets frozen and taken away by Boba Fett. It ends on such a down note. I mean, that's what life is, a series of down endings. All "Jedi" had was a bunch of Muppets."

Giuseppe Petri (aka George Stone) – One of Elliot Ness' "Untouchables," Stone single-handedly stopped Al Capone's bookkeeper from escaping to Miami, which led to the arrest of Chicago's most infamous mob boss. Classic quote: "Much better than you, you stinking Irish pig."

See, there is more to the Italian culture than cooking pasta and losing wars. Kudos, gentlemen, kudos.

(If you'd like to learn more about Italians, consult Dr. Phat Tony's biography of Christopher Columbus.)

6,000???

Uhh . . . wow. On Monday, I was pleased to announce that SYLG celebrated its 5,000th visitor.

That was six days ago.

Today at approximately 7pm (EDT), visitor number 6,000 stopped by to check out this lame excuse for a blog. Honestly, I don't see the attraction, but I am humbled by the support. I will do my absolute best to keep you entertained. And now, a few points of interest:

• Dave at Garfield Ridge - His link to my "As Seen On TV . . . In The Fourth Reich" helped me get 1,000 hits in six days. It's always a good thing when someone who averages 1,000 hits a day gives you a shout out. Thanks!
• My regular visitors (primarily everyone linked to your right - please patronize their blogs, too! - and Steve) have been the backbone of SYLG from day one. Special mention to The Man at GOP and the City, who was the first one to link me when I returned to the blogosphere.
• Comments - I read 'em, and I welcome them - as long as they don't involve personal attacks. Feel free to comment, and remember you don't have to be a member of Blogger to do so. Just click on anonymous (preferably leave your name - or alias- in the body) and fire away!
• Links - Sometimes I am unaware that another blog has linked to mine. If you linked me and want some reciprocation, please drop me a line. I always stop by my linked blogs (usually daily) and try to comment often .
• Language - For a while, I changed the language on the date and month from English to Slovak (explanation here). I changed back temporarily so new visitors wouldn't be perplexed. I will probably go back to the language of my relatives soon.

Well, that's enough gushing for one day. I promise not to post every time I hit another thousand, but this many visitors in less than a week was overwhelming. Thanks again!

It's A Nice Day For A Wet Wedding

The happy participants: Michelle, Kevin, and Heather.

Wyatt's Three Weddings in Eight Days Tour 2005 reached a soggy conclusion yesterday with the wedding of my cousin Kevin and his lovely bride Michelle. The ceremony was supposed to be held outside the Joseph Ambler Inn in Horsham, Pa (swank, swank), but since the area has been hit with non-stop rain and flooding since Friday, that scenario was doubtful. Then again . . .

As we pulled up to the Inn, we noticed that there were chairs and a gazebo outside. This can't be right. It's raining horizontally!!! Nevertheless, the show did go on. (We realized that the wedding area had canopies to keep us – more or less – dry.) The one hundred or so guests were treated to a speedy marriage ceremony straight out of "Spaceballs:"

Pastor: "Do you?"

Kevin: "Yes."

Pastor: "Do you?"

Michelle: "Yes."

Pastor: "Good. You're married."

They'll kill me for this, but the funniest part of the ceremony occurred when the pastor asked for the rings. Unfortunately, they weren't available. Kevin asked Michelle if she had them – their only bridal party was Kevin's young daughter, Heather - and she gave him the look of doom. Not missing a beat, Michelle said aloud, "We'll just pretend." And they did. That's the kind of woman Michelle is, smart, witty, and (as we later found out) very handy: she made her own wedding dress! What the hell she's doing with Kevin we'll never know.

Congratulations, guys!

"I'll Be Back"

Unless you're under 18 years of age, that is.

Cal-E-For-Nee-Ah Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger has signed a bill which prohibits minors from buying "violent" videogames, such as Grand Theft Auto. I guess Damian and Tyler are out of luck. Heh.

In an unrelated story, The Governator, star of such "family" films as Conan the Barbarian, Conan the Destroyer, The Terminator, Commando, Raw Deal, Predator, The Running Man, Red Heat, Total Recall, Terminator 2, Last Action Hero, True Lies, Eraser, Batman and Robin, End of Days, The 6th Day, Collateral Damage, and Terminator 3 just read the definition of "hypocrite," and is now rethinking his position.

"This Is My Broom Stick!"

Last night, the Chicago White Sox did the country a favor by sweeping their series with the Boston Red Sox, three games to none. Hopefully, it will be 80 years until the Bosox win another World Series.

This almost takes the sting out of the Yankees loss last night.

Things To Do In Philly When You're Dead

As a Public Service Announcement, the Philadelphia Police Department (okay, just yours truly) is stressing important guidelines for those citizens who expect to pass away at a time of their choosing. These five simple tips can make life a whole lot easier for the men and women of law enforcement who have to deal with your expired carcass. Break out some paper and a number two pencil, please.

1. Make sure you're dressed. Mom always said to wear clean underwear - and a pair of pants wouldn't be a bad idea, either.

2. While you're at it, take a thorough shower. Even fresh corpses tend to give off an unpleasant odor.

3. Use the restroom beforehand. Otherwise, Mother Nature will do it for you - usually at the exact moment the officer picks up your body.

4. Lie down, legs straight, and arms at your side. Body bags and stretchers don't accommodate people with legs akimbo. Rigor mortis is a helluva thing.

5. Try and be tidy. If you're going to use a gun to end it all - especially via the melon - wrap the back of your head in towels and blankets. Ever try to get blood out of shag carpet? It's a bear.

Remember, a little preparation goes a long way. And it's never too late to be polite. Thank you for your cooperation.

Three: It's A Magic Number

And the beat goes on . . .

Yours truly took third place in GOP and the City's Weekend Caption Contest. Take a gander at all the entries, especially Damian's, which took first place. And deservedly so. Congrats, D!

You Say It, We Play It (Day 3)

I hate Insolublog.

In complying with his suggestion, I actually had to think for a change - instead of just throwing some piece of detritus up on the screen. Here's his challenge: Put together your top 5 Mission-Impossible Team of movie adventure a$$ kickers. Make up a mission. Give them all special tasks.

I'm not that creative, but here goes.

Wyatt Earp's Fox Force Five

There has been an evil unleashed, and it's name is the NBA. A bloodthirsty organization ruled by criminals and lousy role models, this monster must be stopped. And the only thing standing in it's way is Fox Force Five.

Abigail Whistler (Blade: Trinity) - The imminent destruction of the NBA must start with the infiltration of its corporate offices. Whistler, armed with pistols, blades, UV light (for all those bloodsucking corporate vampires), and bow and arrow would make quick work of the league's home office. And, since NBA HQ is in New York City, a beautiful woman armed to the teeth would not even get a second glance.





Lady Deathstrike (X-Men 2) - After the demolition of the NBA's corporate offices, the next stop on our carnage tour would be the opiate of the masses - television. Basketball would die a quick death without its constant TV promotion, and Deathstrike (with her indestructible adamantium skeleton and razor sharp claws) would slice through broadcast network equipment like a hot knife through butter. In the event of her capture, she will be instructed to notify the authorities that she is the cousin of Yao Ming, which would ensure her release.

Mystique (X-Men, X2) - Now, Wyatt, you say, even without the home office and TV, wouldn't the players still show up for "the love of the game." Possibly. That's why I have Mystique. Her ability to shape-shift into anyone or anything would be just the ticket I need to stop the players in their tracks. The sight of a beautiful woman is like kryptonite to a pro athlete, and after the "off-court action," Mystique can stop back in a month looking like she's pregnant. Instant career-ending paternity suit!!!

Trinity (The Matrix) - Despite Fox Force Five's best efforts, there will be some daring men who will attempt to keep the game alive. Enter Trinity. Using her Matrix-enhanced powers, she will be able to jump up and block slam dunks, reject any three-pointers, and out-hustle even the grittiest of back courts. The result - Trinity will help make the American game more like the International/Olympic product. (Read: even more boring than the original.) Any fan base left will exit the arenas in droves looking for something, anything, that is more interesting. The downfall of the NBA is at hand!

The Bride (Kill Bill) - After the demise of the NBA, I will announce my diabolical scheme to the world. I will explain my actions, and threaten anyone even considering basketball's resurrection. Non-compliance will result in severe penalties. As a testament to this, The Bride will be my sergeant-at-arms. If anyone knows about revenge, it is the sword-wielding blonde. Resistance is futile, NBA! You will be eradicated!

FOUR UNANSWERED GOALS???!!!

Rangers 5, Flyers 3

Ya know, I'm a Rangers fan and even I couldn't believe what I saw last night. By the third period, Flyers goalie Robert Esche couldn't save coupons!

Oh well, it's still great to have hockey back.

You Say It, We Play It (Day 2)

The second suggestion is Police Academy stories.

(Editor's note: There are a good many people who think women should not be police officers. This post will probably give some credence to that line of thinking, but I want to stress that these examples do not reflect the actions of every female officer in the Philadelphia Police Department. My partner is one of the best cops I know, and I am under the assumption that Pandy was/is a hell of an MP. I just wanted to post the hate mail disclaimer.)

The following anecdotes are (unfortunately) absolutely true. The names were changed to protect the brutal. Here is a glimpse of some of the women in my police academy class:

Recruit Jones: Skinny little recruit Jones was out of her league on day one. Weighing all of 85 pounds soaking wet and wearing a vest, she finally had to drop out of the academy. Why? Because she wasn't strong enough to rack the slide on her Glock 17!

Recruit Jackson: Recruit Jackson was the Bizzarro Jones. She weighed about 250 (bone dry without a vest) and stood a menacing 5'2". This in and of itself is not a reason to "dis" her, but her theories on race relations were. A week into the training, Jackson told the class that she didn't like white people! When the instructor told her that 1. there were white people in the room, and 2. one of them may save her ass one day, Jackson shrugged her shoulders. She is still on the force working in the primarily Italian section of South Philly.

Recruit Smith: Recruit Smith was Recruit Jackson's henchwoman. She echoed everything Jackson said, but was actually in worse physical condition. During our P.T., the woman couldn't do ten sit-ups in one minute. I'm not kidding. She graduated anyway (to everyone's amazement) and is currently working in South Philly.

Recruit Thompson: Last but not least, Recruit Thompson was a 35-year old, chain-smoking, toothpick who never said much during our six months at the academy. She was friendly enough, but had the personality of Al Gore. Most of us thought 35 was a little old for starting the academy, but what did we know? She worked her ass of to make the cut . . . then promptly turned bum on the street. Thompson is now working in my district - although I use the term "working" loosely - and due to her laziness, she is the most hated officer in the squad.

Giggitty! Giggitty! Giggitty!

The NHL is back, baby!!! Tonight is the first of many nights I will be ignoring my family in lieu of DirecTv's NHL Center Ice package. Every game from every team at my fingertips. Ooh, pleasure overload!!! As a teaser for any Flyers fans out there, here's a shot of their new "on-ice talent." Yummy! The Flyers Ice Team is pretty hot, don't you think, Quagmire?

You Say It, We Play It (Day 1)

The first suggestion is college stories. I already told the best one: my auto accident with Miss America, but there are a few more. And away we go.

March, 1988 – Lacrosse: Saint Joseph's University at Kutztown University.

I'm a freshman playing my first ever lacrosse game after being a walk-on to the squad (I was really fast as a young buck). My mom let me drive to SJU, which is a good 30-45 minutes from my home, and I volunteered to drive some of my teammates to the game. It didn't go well.

While driving southbound on City Avenue, I took the on ramp to the westbound Schuylkill Expressway. It had just rained, and the road was slippery. The next thing you know, mom's car is implanted in the guard rail! There weren't any injuries, but we had to get to the game because there were only ten of us present – lacrosse teams play with ten players on the field at one time. If I go home, we forfeit the game. Either way, my mother is gonna kick my ass, so I proceed.

You can tell a lot about a guy by seeing how he handles adversity. I cried like a wussy. We get to the field, disembark, suit up, and take the field. The referee walks over and asks when the rest of the team is coming. Our captain, John, said, "We're it." Lacrosse is similar to soccer in that there is a crap load of running. Imagine playing soccer with no subs. No fun.

The game starts, and John tells me that since I'm a freshman (and should be in tip top shape) I'll be playing midfield. I wish it would have ended there. As the game progressed – and we got more and more tired – our plan of attack changed. At the end of the first quarter, John comes up and says I am now playing defense for the second quarter. I told him I never played defense before. He didn't seem moved. After halftime, John tells me that I'm playing attack. Whoo hoo, the skill position! Attackers are responsible for scoring goals, and not much else. At the end of the third quarter, John comes up again, and I'm too exhausted to argue. He says, "I hate to do this, but we need you to play goalie. I need a break. You have your cup, right?" I said yes, and dragged my sorry arse to the net. Surprisingly, I actually saved a few shots. Not that it mattered, since we were already losing by about ten goals.

The game ended – mercifully – and we trudged off the field a battered and beaten team. In the midst of the exhaustion, the brutal loss, and the car accident, there was a bright spot in the day - I managed to play every position on the field in the course of one game! Not bad for a rookie.

Unfortunately, mom didn't share my enthusiasm when I brought the car home.

As Seen On TV . . . In The Fourth Reich!

Has anybody seen this new product yet? Here's the lowdown: you're stuffy and wheezy, and you really need some fast-acting relief. Enter SudaCare Shower Soothers. Just place a tablet in your shower, turn on the water, and breathe in the Shower Soothers' fumes. Mmm . . . that's better!

Okay, does anyone see what's wrong with this picture? Showers, tablets, and gaseous fumes are supposed to entice someone to buy this product? Do you think the good folks at SudaCare need some sensitivity training in the area of, oh; I don't know . . . the Holocaust???

Or am I overreacting?

5,000!

We beg your pardon for the noise, but it's a celebration here at SYLG Headquarters. Today at 4:35pm (EDT), this insignificant little blog received its 5,000th visit! And just three days before our four month anniversary. The lucky winner (I think) is Steve (you know, "Firsst with flair!") from Portland, Oregon. Congratulations Steve, you are 5,000th with flair, and an SYLG prize package is enroute.

I want to thank every single visitor for their support over the last four months. Words cannot describe how I feel. I'll try and keep the posts interesting (or at least grammatically correct!).

Editor's note: The SYLG prize package will probably consist of a game-used X-Men hockey puck, a discount coupon for Shoney's, and this trophy presented by an animated naked teen.

Stupid Questions

Was anyone surprised when that delightful exoskeleton Kate Moss was photographed using cocaine? Rule #1 in law enforcement: skinny crack addicts are as rare as a coherent Anna Nicole Smith.

Is there a more annoying wedding staple than Kool & the Gang's "Celebration?" Good God, I hate that damn song!

How come Chris "Big Mouth Bore" Berman shows thirty or so highlights on his Sunday night Top Ten Plays?

When is my knee gonna stop throbbing from playing hockey? It's been about 24 hours now.

X-Men, Game 1

Last night we kicked off our 2005-06 ice hockey season against Chilly McPhilly. Due to the large turnout for our team, I was moved from defense to right wing. (What versatility!) Not that it mattered. There wasn't anything resembling defense in this shootout.

I played on a line with my brother-in-law Mike and my friend Brian. Mike had a terrific game, which included a fabulous backhand goal to the top shelf of the net. I didn't play all that well: no goals, no assists, no penalty minutes, and a minus one (I was on the ice for one of their goals, but none of ours). On the plus side, I didn't cost our team any goals, and I didn't get hurt – although my knee is killing me.

But, hey, screw the personal stats (I'm no T.O.). The X-Men came out on top, winning by a score of 7-4. We're undefeated, and have two weeks until our next game on October 16th. Maybe by then my knees will feel better.

The "I"'s Have It

While reading over this drivel I call a blog, I have noticed that many of my posts are peppered with "I"'s. I did this, I think that, I, I, I. Most of you are probably thinking, "God, what a self-centered jackass!" And, you would be correct.

Much of the problem here at SYLG recently is a lack of post ideas. Even work stories have dried up, since I have been on the street just three times in September. There's not a whole lot of excitement going on in the district HQ. Thus, yours truly has had to make do with personal experiences; and to be perfectly honest, I live a boring life. (Maybe that reflects the dip in daily visits of late.)

Therefore, I am offering an "all-request" week until Friday. Just post a comment indicating what you want to read here (stories, questions, etc.), and I'll do my best to fulfill your wishes. Consider me "I Dream of Jeannie" for the week. I'll still post about other crap (like my hockey season opener tonight) but I'll add as many of your ideas as possible.

Let the games begin.