Tit for tat? Ying or Yang? Miracle Whip or Hellman's?

Life is filled with difficult choices, right? Would you rather be bitten in half or swallowed whole? Is watching The View worse than watching a TVLAND marathon of Rosanne? Can you dig it?

• Who would you rather be behind while driving in your car? The uber patriot that litters his 1989 Fiero GT with every bit of jingoistic, troop supporting, flag waving litter he can find or the woman who stuffs any, every little stuffed animal into the crevice of her back window?
• Whose needs the most correction? The person who uses good when they mean well (grrrrrr) or anyone who pronounces Mozart with a heavy emphasis on the "Z"? (Mo....ZZZart!!)
• What is the most unprovable, but desirable, myth? Bigfoot or spontaneaous human combustion? (I'll give my answer: Bigfoot. Not that an undiscovered hairy biped roaming around the woods isn't cool--it's just that random assholes bursting into flame is more dramatic, Darwinian. And I so want it to be real...)
• What is the most annoying cell phone habit? Someone using the Nextel gleek-gleek, Direct shithead to shithead function while in public or a person who wears that wireless earpiece full time--like some Special Forces groupie?
• Most annoying verbal response? "I don't care" or "It just isn't fair"? Torpid indifference and adolescent victim/whine both inspire me to take an interest in high powered rifles.
• Ugliest car? Chevrolet Avalanche or the Chevrolet Avalanche? The Avalanche "morphs" from an SUV to a truck by removing the back window. I can't find enough adjectives to cover how cheap this 40k vehicle looks--although gaudy, tacky and ill-concieved are a good start. Not only does it's frame outsize its chassis by about 2 to 1, the whole change from one kind of vehicle to another is clunky and meaningless if hauling anything in bad weather. (The removable back window prevents rain or anything wet from entering the cab-take it out and you'll need waders in "truck" mode for half the year.)
• Who's most ignorable? Paris Hilton or Lindsey Lohan? Physically beautiful women hamstrung by their personalities and therefore kneecapped--daily, by the worst press in the universe. There only real value: Finding direct routes to any cocaine available at an event. (Hey, I'm not a complete asshole)
• Best time wasting web site? GorillaMask or WhatWouldTylerDurdenDo? Answer? Both. GorillaMask links lot of cool stuff and Tyler Durden eviscerates celebrities with a kind of hatred that make me smile with envy.

"Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale..." OR What I've learned from bass fishing.

1. It's better that golf. Why? Because once you get the basic cast down, you really can't blame a bad day on form. Nobody takes to the water, gets skunked (no fish), and then says "Man, I just couldn't get the line out today." or "Man, my control is way off."
2. I've lost a lot of lures--expensive, good lures. When I toss a $7 Rapala Husky Jerk into the water, only to have my knot fail... Grrrrrr.
   
3. Bill Dance and Jimmy Houston (pictured) are surrounded video-editing genius.
4. Fishing, even with all it's frustrations, easily sells itself to the uncoverted. (Props to you Will)
   
5. My conviction that while bank fishing is very English and traditional--not having a boat kinda sucks.
6. Fishing falls into a very special category, along with sex and pizza. When is not very good, it's still pretty good.
7. There are no clever, well-written bass fishing bumper stickers.
8. On a related topic, I can ignore that professional bass fishing is NASCAR on water. What I have trouble overlooking is that given an opportunity, I'd gladly join their ranks.
   
9. Fishing has no shortage of stuff. During my honeymoon with fishing--I bought every lure, rod, reel and line, and, similar to any fashionista with purses, I've gone through about 10 different tackle boxes. I've manage to temper my enthusiam in the past few years...sort of.
   
10. How's for inspiration? I Google/Image Search "Bass". Sweet Jesus Marimba. I've got so much left to do.
    

Special thanks to the nice folks at Shakespeare, producer of the UGLY STICK rod, the bass themselves and, of course, Steve Campos, my senpai to all things fish.

Things I've actually heard.

Hey. These are some of the things I've heard lately. Funny.

"My Rosie, the pitbull, was a good dog--right up until she was shot by the police." I'm no fool to urban culture, but I think when your pet graduates from the shock collar to a clip of 9mm bullets--you should think about a parakeet. (Where that dog whisperer guy? He can afford a finger or two.)

As any warden of a men's prison can tell you--prisoners have a lot of time for diverson. As a result, when a State Corrections nutritional officer was ordering bulk food for state prisons he requested: "Would you please send us smaller pickles?" Apparently, the bulgy ones were just flying off the shelves and into...passion.

"You're fat." This is one-size-fits-all comeback when a woman fights you into a corner. She fed up with your spending habits, sloppy lifestyle and constant laziness? Can't possibly counter with enough positive to balance her negative? Just let this cinderblock fly and stick around for the aftermath. Because if there is an American woman who somewhere deep inside doesn't believe she looks like Divine, I haven't met her. (Reminder: this is a verbal ICBM, a weapon of last resort. Throwing this around like a North Korean physicist is not advisable.)

I worked with a guy once who was into the martial arts weaponry thing. Really into it. Shirkens. Bushido. Ninja. The whole potato. We were discussing home invasion one day, and I offered that should I own a gun, I'd likely shoot a hole in foot before deterring any intruder. He replied: "If anyone breaks into my house he'll have to dodge two throwing stars and samurai sword." Cranking this one through my brain pan was awkward, mostly because I could sense how earnest he was about defending his family with items totaling $20 at a curio shop. (And why only two? I'd throw a dozen, the box they were shipped in, and the UPS guy who delivered them. Then, I'd probably cry until the bad man left.)

Strip Clubs? Macho, group porn that you should hate...but kind of enjoy.

Ok...got that? I kinda like 'em. Why? Not a clue. But here are some reasons why I probably shouldn't.

The Tone. Sexual arousal does not have the same frantic, howling energy of a football game. Popping wood should never involve cheering or fist pumping--especially from the pack of men you arrived with. "Look man!!! Woooooo!!!! When Kandy rubs her tits on his face, I'll bet Larry got a huge boner!!!!" See? Uncomfortable. Awkward. Brokeback.

The Vocabulary. I overheard a lovely young performer refer to her vagina as her "kitty". Hey, that's what I call my lawnmower.

The Heels. Not footware but square chunks of plastic with a strap on top. Jesus...I get it; your jiggly walk is meant to flick my bic. But gravity, combined with the ten foot trek to the pole, will generate some hot compound fracture action before long. Two or three girls with these toad smashers lashed to their feet looked cluzty, if not downright handicapped in their effort to turn me on. (It was hysterical.)

The DJ. When you enter the club, you should just walk up to this guy--and punch him right in the face. Ever wonder what the loud, pointless assholes from high school do for a living? Mystery solved.

The Pitch. The canned repartee' most stippers arm themselves with is really painful to listen to--and tilts the needle of my BS detector. "What's your birthday?" "What kind of music do you like?" These questions, devoid of any real interest, merely serve as filler before the actual question is fired off: "Would you like to drop $40 to have me rub my crotch on yours?"

$5 well drinks. Okay fine, but it's still not going to convince me that a clothed 69 postion with Princess Amanda is a better way to spend my money.

The Waitresses. Are these women really just tending tables or are they apprenticing for a chance at the bronze pole? I forgot to ask. My waitress actually asked a guy, who from my perspective was getting nasally flossed with a g-string, if he was all set with drinks. I'll wager Special Forces look for clinical detachment like this.

So why don't I mind going to strip clubs--given my list of beefs? I dunno. Why do I love ketchup and hate tomatoes? I just do.

(Thanks for waiting so long. Hope you like.)
/

I don't like happy endings.

I just think it's a microwaved hot-dog: Flaccid and overdone.
A rampant assumption among movie studios that every story should bend to a positive outcome--or nobody will pay to watch movies. Nobody wants to leave the theater feeling awful, do they? Even movies like "Titanic", which we know will end badly, end on an head-scratching upswing.


This is no more true than your standard horror movie fare--where a Beowulf always defeats a Grendel and you know it will play that way from the opening credits. Sure terrible things happen, teenager disemboweled in a bath of blood, but it's always with a wink. Bad will be bad...until good prevails an hour or so later. But there are terrific exceptions...

...and "Wolf Creek" is one of them.

Based loosely on the Austrailian "Backpack Murders", it tells the story of three backpackers whose car breaks down.

Check it out. It scared the crap out of me.

It's a conceit. And a good one.

I love watches. And I would like a Rolex.

Not as some P. Diddy bling bullshit, but as a ridiculously expensive testatment to my fondness for a quality watch. And Rolex is the best. It's a fetish really. In fact I don't trust people over 30 who don't wear watches, Rolex or otherwise.

And it's not some anal-retentive, A-type personality, Frankin Planner every ounce my life stuff either. Those people should throw thier watches away and have bowel movement.

Arguably, it's the last great male accessory. Men generally don't have much beyond a clever piercing or festive belt buckle. A watch is masculine and subtle, not cheesy like a necklace or feckless as bracelet. It is cosmopolitan melded with utility and couture guised in the ordinary.

(Sorry Wil, wearer of man bracelet. You should tell people it does something cool--like dispense PEZ or Meth.)

Do you want an example of someone who does a watch right? Robert Redford. All of his movies show him with a watch, usually combined with a ring--"Three Days of the Condor" comes to mind. (A great espionage thriller, too) Take a look, he's really working the timepiece.

Oh...specifics, for those who would drop that much (2 to 3K) on me. A Rolex Oyster Professional Sea Dweller 4000 or Submariner with a rotating bezel and superlative chronometer. Both are serious watches originally designed for divers, meant to basically be worn forever.

Hey, a Timex man can dream can't he?

(Thanks to Wikipedia and the official Rolex website: http://www.rolex.com/en/)

Snakes on Plane. Catch it!

I've been reading about "Snakes on a Plane", the latest avionic movie thriller starring Samuel L. Jackson. Plot: Cops escort mob witness on plane, incredibly clever assasssin releases deadly snakes (the logistics of that will need a doozy of an explanation). Screaming and an likely rescue will occur, most assuredly involving someone hanging perilously from an open pressure door.

What is more interesting is that while the movie is gaining fan interest, the title itself "Snakes on a Plane" is becoming the new catchphrase meaning something unrelatable or absurd. Since our cultural consciousness must absorb anything showbiz and movie titles are having an increasing effect on our social dialogue, I thought I'd throw in some lingo of my own.

• Pulling a Titanic -- implying that there must be a something else involved in and or around an undertaking in order to make it work. There simply had to be a weepy, overwritten, hopelessly tragic love story in this film. Why? Because the boat sinks and lots of people die and we all know that.
• Tripping on NP -- meaning that you're still fascinated by something that originally was sort of clever but now has so thorougly saturated popular consciousness that it's outdated or simply passe'. Coming from "Napolean Dynamite", whose witty utterances and dorky chic have begun to grate on anyone paying attention.
• So Ryan-ed out -- something that should only interest women or the gayest of men. Any movie with Meg Ryan...well...they speak for themselves. And if you're a straight guy and saw "You've got Mail", "Sleepless in Seattle" or "Kate and Leopold" you should go watch 5 Jean-Claude VanDamme movies in a row. That should be punishment enough.

I'm probably going to see "Snakes on a Plane" and I might even use the term. Can you think of any? I knew that you could.