Benihana, I Deserve An Apology


To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing this letter as a formal request to be readmitted to the Benihana Birthday Club.  The following is an in-depth account of the night of October 31, 2017, and the events that led me to be unfairly banished from the Benihana Restaurant chain.

I’d never been to Benihana before, but I’d recently gotten a coupon in the mail that told me I’d get $30 off my order if I ate there in my birthday month.  My birthday is in October so I went on Halloween because Halloween is fun, and my roommate told me the night before that if I ate any more of his Hot Pockets he was going to key my moped.  I don’t think he was serious, but I couldn’t take any chances that he’d scratch up my ride – it’s the reason I get most of my telephone numbers (I park it illegally, like a lot).  I couldn’t decide what I wanted to be my costume, but I ended up dressing as a Benihana chef, because I read in a book once that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery (I don’t know what that means, but the chef robes are really comfortable – ha!).  When I got to the restaurant it didn’t look like any of the other guests were in costume, but I figured they were hiding their disguises under their clothes to preserve the element of surprise.

As a newcomer to the wild world of Japanese cuisine, I asked the chef a few questions.  He told me that my food would be prepared directly in front of me on a hibachi style grill.  I consider myself a master googler, and it only took me a few minutes to discover that Hibachi is a Japanese company that used to make TVs and other electronics.  Maybe the grill was fashioned out of old television sets?  It didn’t sound very safe to me, but I decided to stick it out.  After all, Japan is responsible for a number of great things (sushi, anime video games, 10 time MLB All-Star and former American League Rookie of the Year Ichiro Suzuki), and I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.  I asked the chef if Ichiro had ever eaten there and he said no, but he probably hadn’t been there every night the restaurant had been open so how could he know for sure?  Pretty irresponsible of him to say Ichiro had never eaten there, when odds are he probably sat and ate in the same seat I was.

The chef made a tiny volcano out of an onion he was cooking, which I thought was cool until I remembered that a number of people (millions, probably) per year are killed by erupting volcanos.  What if someone at the table knew someone who died from a volcano?  Pretty insensitive of the chef to be rubbing their faces in it like that.  “Hey, do you like onions?  How about the fact that your loved ones are dead?”  Not the kind of conduct I’d expect to see from a Benihana chef.  To distract my fellow diners from this gross misconduct, I asked them to tell me what they most admired about Ichiro Suzuki.  They admittedly didn’t know much, but I could tell they were impressed when I described his MVP winning 2001 season in excruciating detail.  My new friends and I were just starting on what promised to be an engaging discussion of Ichiro’s unique batting style when the chef told me that if I mentioned Ichiro again, I would be asked to leave the restaurant.  That just proved that he wasn’t nearly as Japanese as he claimed to be, because Ichiro Suzuki is a national treasure to the Japanese people (much like Pokémon, and furry hats with animal ears on them).

My first visit to Benihana was not going as I’d hoped, but there was plenty of time to turn it around.  I got up to use the restroom, which was extremely confusing.  They had Japanese symbols on the doors, and I don’t speak or read Japanese.  Although they had the English translations directly underneath, I couldn’t trust those; they could have been planted by the extremely rude chef who was clearly trying to spoil my birthday and embarrass me in front of my new best friends.  To be safe, I opened both doors and listened, thinking that someone inside one of the bathrooms would speak and I could determine if it was a man or woman.  How was I supposed to know that instead of voices, there would be a loud and inappropriate noise erupting from one of the stalls?  The answer is that I couldn’t have known, and I shouldn’t be held responsible for that.

On my way back from the disastrous trip to the bathroom, a lady called me over to her table.  She complained that her steak was undercooked, and asked if I could throw it back on the grill for a little more.  Looking back, I should have known that she only thought I was employed by the restaurant due to my costume.  But it was Halloween!  If you go into Benihana on Halloween and assume that everyone wearing an authentic employee’s uniform is legally certified to cook your food, then who do you really have to blame?  Plus what am I going to do, say no?  Let the woman eat undercooked steak and potentially catch any number of diseases that can be transmitted by raw meat?  There’s no way Ichiro Suzuki would have let that stand, and neither did I.

I won’t go into detail over what happened next, because frankly I don’t believe it needs to be talked about.  Did some stuff catch on fire as a direct result of my involvement on the grill?  Sure, if you want to believe the “police report.”  Did I “brandish a knife in the general direction of another chef” when he asked me to move aside?  I don’t know, it was the heat of the moment and there were a lot of knives being pointed in a lot of different directions.  What I can tell you is in the end the steak was VERY well done; zero risk of getting sick.  I had the situation under control until the manager came over and made much too big of a deal about the whole fire thing.  I bet he was just jealous that I was doing a better job than his paid employees, and was worried that I was showing them up.

The manager asked me what I thought I was doing behind the grill, so I told him all about the woman asking me to help and the sort of responsibility that people like Ichiro Suzuki and myself feel for people who are being mistreated.  Then I told him that one of his chefs had been a jerk all night, and how he wouldn’t even let me talk about baseball with my best friends.  I voiced my strong opposition to the onion volcano, and the manager asked everyone at the table if they knew someone that had been killed or injured by a volcano – every single person said no.  Ten people at a table, and NOBODY knows someone that has been killed by an erupting volcano?  The numbers don’t add up, you guys.  There had to be some sort of hush money involved, and I for one am ashamed of my former best friends for playing into such a transparent corporate ruse.

I was asked to leave the restaurant by both the Benihana staff and the local sheriff’s department, who bit hook-line-and-sinker on the manager’s explanation of the whole ordeal and didn’t seem interested at all in talking about the important things (what actually happened, how I was a better chef than those hacks, Ichiro Suzuki’s unparalleled range in center field).

Ten days later I received a letter from the authorities telling me that I wasn’t allowed inside another Benihana restaurant ever again, which is why I’m writing you today.  This has all been a huge misunderstanding, and I’m sure that if one of your representatives was willing to meet with me, we could discuss both the incidents of that Halloween night and the enormous amount of respect I have for Japanese culture.  I have an Ichiro Suzuki Rookie baseball card, and while your rep can’t have it, he or she can hold it for up to 10 seconds as long as they promise not to fold the corners.

I have full confidence in the decision-making skills of the corporate team at Benihana, and I’m looking forward to receiving your reply restoring my full membership in the Benihana Birthday Club.  I will also accept an apology on behalf of the rude chef, and might I suggest looking into his criminal background; there’s no way a person of his moral character doesn’t have prior convictions.




The Time I Played Pool Basketball

I’m going to tell you guys about the time I played a 14-year-old kid in pool basketball.  As with most experiences in my life, it did not go well.  It was the summer after my Junior year of college and I had a part time internship.  As I wasn’t old enough to buy alcohol, my days consisted mostly of hanging out at the pool in my apartment complex and attempting to catch the eye of the girls that hung out at my apartment complex.

There was a pool basketball net, which was cool.  Water basketball eliminates the need for dribbling, which I’ve always found to be very cumbersome.  As someone who cannot cut food with his left hand, attempting to control a bouncing ball with said hand has always proved to be an exercise in futility.  This eliminates most of my usefulness on the court; my only existing contribution to pickup basketball games is that I am sort of tall, and nothing else.


On that fateful day, there is a pretty girl tanning at the pool that is ignoring me, as usual.  So I decide to put on a display of manliness, and take to the pool by myself.  With nobody guarding me, I put on a respectable display.  I am making just over half of the shots I attempt, mostly layups.  I am using the backboard much less than usual.  I swish one or two shots from less than 5 feet away from the hoop.  I am LeBron James.

A young man comes up to me and asks if I would like to play him one-on-one.  Normally I would say no, because playing people that are younger than you in sports is almost always a lose-lose situation; but Tanning Girl looks in my general direction as he asks.  She is adjusting to get an even tan, but I pretend she is interested.  His mother, sitting on a chair a few feet away, tells me that her son is 14 and made his high school JV basketball team as a freshman.  She says that Seth is very good.  As a 6’2” 20-year-old, I’m sure I would make at least one Varsity basketball team.  I probably would not, but I am still bigger than he is.  I will crush Seth.

I jump out to an early lead, using my height and long arms to prevent him from scoring any points at all.  Tanning Girl is largely ignoring the game until Seth inadvertently splashes her, at which point she yells, “what the hell,” and moves to a different chair further away.  I try to give her a knowing look, one that demonstrates our mutual hatred of Seth.  She ignores me.

When I am one point away from winning, Seth, desperate to make a dent in my sizable lead, splashes water into my face while I’m in the act of shooting.  This dislodges one of my contacts, and I am instantly rendered half-blind, gasping in pain.  His mother laughs as the heavily chlorinated water burns one of the most sensitive areas on my body.  I briefly consider pushing her head underwater, but feel that Tanning Girl would not be impressed.

Now with little to no depth perception, I watch as my lead shrinks.  Knowing my weakness, Seth routinely splashes my face before darting to the rim and making layups with absurd ease.  To my horror, Tanning Girl has started to take interest in the game, as have several other pool patrons.  She cheers for Seth alongside his mother.  She has betrayed me.

After a short period, we are tied with one point to go.  I am tied with a 14-year-old in a game of pool basketball, and he has possession of the ball.  I am going to lose.  In a fit of ill-timed gallantry, Seth abandons his splashing and attempts a clean game-winning shot.  I see him go up.  I meet him, and block the shot with as much force as I possess – right into his face. I vaguely register that the full force of the block has rebounded off Seth’s face, and that he might be in need of medical attention.  I do not care.  Jubilant, I grab the ball out of midair and slam the ball through the hoop.  I have done it.  I am victorious.  I am all that is man.

As I come back to reality, I realize Seth’s mother is screaming.  Turning around, I see that Seth is crying and holding his hands to his nose, which is gushing blood.  I know it sounds like exactly what happened in Meet the Parents, and that is because it is almost exactly like what happened in Meet the Parents.  Multiple people are yelling at me.  Tanning Girl is one of them.  A man who arrived in an old pickup truck is angrily pointing at me.  I wonder if he has a gun in his truck; I begin to fear for my life.  I ask loudly if Seth is okay, to which he replies, “Fuck you.”  His mother screams at me to “get out,” which I do as quickly as I possibly can.  Many people might call that cowardice.  To those people, I say this: you are right.


There have been a lot of awkward, cringe-worthy moments in my life, but this one might take the cake.  Whenever you’re confronted with situations that seem to be lose-lose, they probably are, and it’s best to just walk away.  Sure, you might win, but you never know when a display of supreme, awesome manliness could result in you being threatened by men who drive pickup trucks.

But most of all, just remember: I beat Seth fair and square.  That fucking point counted.

Holiday Traditions


Hello!  For those of you who aren’t aware, it’s December and Christmas is right around the corner.  Christmas is the favorite holiday of everyone who matters, and has a lot of really fun traditions.  Some folks go to church (Catholics), some like to get really drunk (single uncles), and some eat Chinese food (Chinese people).  A lot of people like to pretend that a fat man breaks into their house and gives away presents, almost like a reverse break-in.  I tried to do that to my neighbors last year, but they called the police and said I was “just stealing their Oreos,” as if it was somebody’s fault other than their own that they left a package of candy cane Oreos on their kitchen counter for just anybody to take.

As a special treat, I’d like to share some of my favorite holiday traditions with you!  You can adopt some of these traditions if you’d like, but you have to give me credit before you do.  I’m serious.  I’ll call the police.

Watching Home Alone.  Home Alone has been statistically proven to be the best Christmas movie of all time; in a recent poll, 9 out of 10 people prefer Home Alone to any other holiday movie.  (Like almost every fact I use, I made that up).  It stars Macauley Culkin as Kevin McCallister, a young man who is left home alone by his family.  He fends off The Wet Bandits with a series of clever tricks and pranks, and he uses his knowledge of his house and surrounding neighborhood to his advantage, much like the crafty Viet Cong.

Listening to Michael Buble.  Michael Buble has the croon to make the ladies swoon, and if you don’t believe me, listen to his Christmas album.  I’m not gay, but I’d probably only resist a little if Michael Buble serenaded then tried to kiss me.  I’m in no position to deny a Buble smooch.  I like to listen to “All I Want For Christmas Is You” and pretend he’s singing to me personally, because deep down I think he is.  Anybody who says Mariah Carey has a better Christmas CD than Michael Buble deserves to lose someone they love.

White Elephant.  White Elephant is a fun game for families that don’t know each other well enough to buy personalized gifts.  You pretty much just buy a random gift and throw it in a pile, then take turns choosing a new present or stealing someone else’s.  It’s one of the few foolproof ways to ensure someone gets really mad at Christmas, because someone always comes away with a shitty present (my Enrique Iglesias poster, my old Ja Rule CD, my empty iTunes gift card).  A lot of my family members will tell you that my presents are always the worst, but they need to know that “worst” is an opinion and that it’s the thought that counts.

Watching Home Alone 2.  Home Alone 2 is the sequel to the smash hit, Home Alone, which I discussed above.  In this hilarious second installment, the Wet Bandits rebranded themselves as The Sticky Bandits.  I didn’t think they could come up with a name that was more sexually suggestive than the first time around, but boy did they prove me wrong.  The Home Alone series is proof that if you forget about your kids, only good things will happen.

Decorating Your Car.  A fun thing to do is put little antlers and a red nose on the front of your car.  This is a festive way to let people know you’re kind of into Christmas, but even more into being a loser.  My friend Paul did this once and I decided to one-up him, so I “accidentally” hit a deer on the side of the road and strapped him to the hood of my car.  I painted his nose red and everything!  The police stopped me after about an hour.  They said that it was a “safety hazard” and “against the law,” but I’m pretty sure Paul was just jealous that I showed him up and got his cop buddies to rain on my parade.  Low move, Paul.

Dressing up as Santa.  Dressking up as Santa is a fun tradition for a lot of families.  Personally I think there’s something a little odd about a fat man who watches kids when they sleep, but maybe those CSI shows were wrong and those guys didn’t inappropriately touch those boys after all.  Instead of dressing up and handing out presents, I like to take presents from people .  I get a lot more gifts than I would otherwise, and I teach people about the dangers of assumption at the same time! That’s what the holidays are all about.

Slam Dunking the Star on top of the Christmas Tree.  A lot of people simply place the star on top of their Christmas tree.  But I’ll ask you one thing: did Michael Jordan simply “place” basketballs in the hoop?  He sure didn’t.  Every year, my mom spends hours setting up the Christmas tree, and every year I slam dunk the star on top.  This usually results in between 10 and 20 ornaments breaking, as well as tears from my mom and shouts/physical threats from my dad.  But it’s tradition!  I’ve been studying game film all year, and I think I’m going with a 360 windmill jam this time around.  It’ll probably break even more ornaments than usual, but you can’t make an omelet without crackin’ a few eggs!

Now that you’ve read up on my traditions and realized all of yours are garbage, you’re all set to have a blast this holiday season!  Happy Holidays!

Sully: A Review


I went to the movies the other day because my mom gave me a gift certificate and I had to use it or else it would’ve expired.  Technically it was my roommate’s mom who did the giving, and technically she gave the gift certificate to my roommate; but I don’t like to get hung up on technical stuff, you guys.  I went and asked very politely if they would play Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked, but the ticket guy said they couldn’t.  I even offered him some of my Fun Dip, and he still said no.  Then I lied and told him it was my birthday, but he told me he remembered me from last time and that trick wouldn’t work again.  Can you believe that?!  What a sour puss.  After that I decided to go see Sully, because Sully sounds like the name of a zany dog who gets into a number of adventures that happen to involve Matthew Broderick, Hollywood’s lovable loser.  I wonder when Matthew Broderick will realize that he’s hit rock bottom?  Probably never.

Before the movie they played a preview for a movie where Joseph Gordon Levitt plays a guy with glasses.  He yells, “You have no idea how it feels to be in charge of other people’s lives,” which makes me think that the movie is probably a documentary about Joseph Gordon Levitt’s actual life.  Everyone knows he’s the man in charge, and what he says goes.  He’s got looks, and power.  I’m not gay, but if JGL (my pet name for Joseph) came up to me and tried to kiss me on the lips, I don’t know if I’d put up much of a fight.  I’d probably let him kiss me on the cheek, just so he’d come back for more.  It’s important to play hard to get, especially when you’re dealing with a heartbreaker like Joseph Gordon Levitt.

It turns out Sully has very little to do with dogs.  It’s about a guy named Sullenberger who’s the captain of a plane.  Clint Eastwood directed Sully, which is surprising because there was little to no obvious racism in this movie.  Tom Hanks (Bridge to Terabithia, owner of “Bubba Gump Shrimp” restaurant chain) plays the main character, which was surprising to me.  After Tom’s well documented flight troubles in Cast Away, there’s no way I’d let him behind the controls.  Plus, he had sex with a volleyball in that movie, which I personally find very hard to forgive.  Pretty much the whole movie is Tom Hanks either talking about flying planes, or landing one in a river.  I wasn’t really paying attention to the movie (I was trying to steal popcorn from the guy next to me and he was being very rude about it).  The most likely scenario is that Tom was watching the History Channel Original Show, American Pickers, and got caught up in the art of finding the best deal.  Then he looked up, and realized they were landing in a river and not on the runway.

One plus of landing in the river was that the passengers got to use the blow up slide to leave, which probably made the whole experience worth it.  I ended up getting kicked out of the theater after that, because I was shouting “wheeeee” every time one of them went down the slide.  For some reason they weren’t doing it in the movie, which made the whole thing totally unrealistic.  When I pointed that out to the theater staff, they took me out of the theater and stole all of my Fun Dip (approx. 8 packages).

Here are 3 things I liked about Sully:

  • Tom Hanks’ mustache. Tom sported a beefy mustache throughout the movie, which was cool.  People tend to respect men with mustaches.  Food often gets stuck in mustaches for lengthy periods of time, and once it’s there it’s very hard to remove.  I think people assume that if a guy cares so little about his appearance that he wears a mustache in public, he has very little to lose.
  • Sully’s name. Sully’s name was an obvious homage to the classic film character “Sully” from Monsters, Inc.  Tom Hanks was clearly very inspired by the 2001 animated film, and frankly, who can blame him.  Monsters, Inc. was much better than this movie, because it had far less talk of planes, and death.
  • No bathroom scenes. I like that there were no scenes of Tom Hanks going to the bathroom in this movie.  Everyone goes, but I don’t want to see anyone doing their business, not even a famous star like Tom Hanks.  The writers did a good job of leaving that out.

Here are 3 things about Sully that weren’t so great:

  • Tom Hanks’ mustache. I know I said I liked it before, but the more I think about it, the more confusing it is.  Mustaches are normally found on cowboys, and park rangers.  Was he a cowboy, or a pilot?  Can’t have it both ways, Tom.
  • Enough superhero movies! I like a good superhero movie as much as the next guy, but this is getting ridiculous.  Plus, Tom looks like a normal guy in this, no suit or cape or anything.  How am I supposed to know who’s super and who’s not, without a cape?  Tom really dropped the ball on this one.  Wear a cape next time, buddy!
  • No Joseph Gordon Levitt. He was in the previews, and after that I really had a hankering for some JGL.  He should have been the co-pilot.  Then when Tom Hanks says “BRACE FOR IMPACT,” Joseph could have reached out and grabbed his hand to let Tom know that everything would be okay.  Joseph Gordon Levitt is the world’s guardian angel.


There you have it!  Overall, I give Sully four out of five bags of crappy airplane cookies.  See you at the movies!  I’ll be the one setting up my sleeping bag in the last row.

Your Guide to the 2016 Olympics

Rio Olympics

Hello everyone.  The 2016 Summer Olympics are almost here! The Olympics are held every four years, and bring the world together to watch the athletes that got away with using PEDs compete for their respective countries.  For those of you who don’t know, the Olympics began back in ancient Rome, when Julius Caesar challenged some guy to a push up contest.  Since then the Olympics have evolved into a worldwide phenomenon, one that almost always leaves the host nation with crippling debt and allows Subway to remind people that they endorse professional athletes, and not just weird guys who like kids.  This year’s Olympics are being held in Rio de Janeiro, and promise to leave Brazil an even bigger shithole than it was before, if you can believe it.  The 2016 Games consist of 42 sports; 306 events in only 19 days!  I know that sounds overwhelming, so I’ve created a handy dandy Olympic Guide to assist you in nailing down exactly what you should and shouldn’t watch.

First things first: a few facts about the host city.  Rio de Janeiro was named after the 2011 animated feature film Rio, which featured Jesse Eisenberg and Anne Hathaway as the voices of the two main characters.  There is no known record of the city’s name before the movie came out, and quite frankly, I don’t care to know it.  Despite the film’s terrible stars, it was a moderate box office success that showcased some of the bright colors and spicy attitudes that permeate Brazilian culture.  Experts say that the government of Brazil first began distributing colorful garments to distract its citizens from the poverty and crime that run rampant through the streets of the South American country, and the move has proven surprisingly effective.  Brazil has a knack for churning out soccer stars, having won the FIFA World Cup a record 5 times.  It is also home to a large swath of the Amazon River, which is surrounded by a dense tropical forest that the Brazilians are doing their best to destroy.  No matter how many trees are chopped down each year, it never seems like enough.  Brazil also has its own unique food (I’m assuming), but I don’t know any of the dishes because I don’t speak Portuguese and I’ve never been there before.  I think bananas grow there?  Nobody knows for sure.

But enough fun facts!  You’re here for sports, and sports you shall have.  I can’t go through every sport being played in the Olympics, because that would take too long and I have a lot of stuff to do today (eat, sleep, watch National Treasure, etc.).  Here are some things I think you should know before you tune in to Rio 2016.

Rowing is basically just a bunch of dudes racing in canoes.  It might sound boring, and that’s because it is.  If I wanted to watch people frantically row a boat, I’d watch Titanic.  At least I’d see Kate Winslet’s boobs.  Granted, the potential exists for aquatic crashes, fights, and possible anaconda attacks in the dirty Brazilian water.  But I won’t watch.  If I really wanted to see people row a boat on some river, I’d watch my uncles try to fish.

Fencing is like sword fighting, but for people who enjoy dressing like weird Storm Troopers and using little bendy swords instead of the actual ones you see on the HBO smash hit, Game of Thrones.  I guess one of the guys’ helmets could fall off and then you could get some dramatic footage, but the odds of that are slim to none.  If they want me to watch this, put the contestants in full knight armor and let ‘em have at it.

Rugby is like American football, but with no pads.  Can you imagine football with no pads?  I can, but I probably couldn’t have before I watched rugby.   Do I understand the rules?  Of course not, nobody does.  I doubt even the players understand the rules, or the referees.  But the New Zealand team does a dance when they win that reminds me of Lilo and Stitch, which is a great movie.  I challenge anyone to dislike rugby, and I challenge anyone to dislike Lilo and Stitch.  Seriously, if you say you don’t like that movie I’ll come to your house and make you watch the whole thing with me.  Rugby: 10/10 will watch religiously.

Volleyball is a pretty cool sport.  It’s not as cool as rugby, but it is close.  It’s like a big game of hot potato, which is a game I always won when I was little.  Some people from my past might tell you I won because I cheated and threw the potato at the other players and scared them into quitting, but those people need to mind their own business and stop making excuses for things that happened a long time ago.  Also, there’s the off chance that a spectator could get hit with a stray ball, which is funny, unless they’re old.  They could die, and death is never funny (unless the person who dies is Donald Trump).  A lot of people only know volleyball as the thing that Tom Hanks drew a face on and had sex with in Cast Away, but I think it’s more fun as a sport.

People like swimming, but I don’t really get it.  The bathing suits are either way too revealing (men) or not nearly enough so (women).  If I wanted to see dudes walking around in Speedos, I’d just watch my neighbor Gary try to sell lemonade to the neighborhood kids.  No thanks, Gary.  If people are swimming in the rivers of Brazil this has the potential to be somewhat exciting, due to the amount of chemical waste in the waterways surrounding Rio and the supposed dangerous animals that have shown up (jellyfish, poisonous fish, Michael Phelps).  I would probably tune in if they wore water wings, because watching people try to swim fast in water wings is hilarious.

Table Tennis/Badminton
I know these are two different sports, but they’re essentially the same thing.  It’s one team or person using a racquet to get a little object over onto the opponent’s side, and not letting it hit the ground.  Both of these involve a good deal of skill, but apart from some thrilling volleys, are relatively boring.  I propose that both of these events be turned into full contact sports.  After all, most of the world’s best spectacles are full contact (football, hockey, The Bachelorette), and it would greatly increase the entertainment value.  Until then, hard pass on these two.

Soccer (Football)
Everywhere else in the world calls this sport football, because you kick a ball with your foot.  But because Americans have to make everything way more difficult than it should be (not using the metric system, calling the “bathroom” the “restroom,” having way more fat people than everywhere else), we call it soccer.  Soccer is a very fun sport to play, but not so much to watch.  Usually the matches only have one or two goals, and feature a lot of people falling down because they get breathed on too hard.  If you’re interested in how to look like you know what you’re talking about with soccer, I wrote this about the World Cup in 2014.

There you have it!  I hope this has been informative for you guys.  If anyone wants to come over and watch the Olympics with me, I’ll be painting “USA” on my chest in the mirror.  After, we can do what every American Olympian does and go to Bennigan’s for 3 to 4 Monte Cristo sandwiches (minimum).  See you there!

The Legend of Tarzan – A Review



Hello everyone.  I just saw The Legend of Tarzan.  I went to the theater by myself because I was bored and I haven’t really done anything in a while.  Do you guys ever not do anything for a little bit, then realize you’ve just been eating Sour Patch Kids for 2 weeks?  Me either.  I saw the movie by myself because I wanted to.  Some people might say I saw it by myself because I don’t have any friends, but those people should learn that sometimes solitude is a choice and they should keep their opinions to themselves.

The Legend of Tarzan is about a guy named Tarzan who was raised by monkeys, went to England, and returned to the place he was raised.  What do you guys think would be the hardest thing about being brought back to the place you were born after being gone for a long time?  I think it would probably be going to the bathroom.  They took Tarzan from a place with no toilets, to a place with a lot of toilets, back to a place with no toilets.  Talk about a shock.

Most of the movie is Tarzan swinging from vines and getting into fights with animals, and people.  Tarzan looks really strong in this movie, and I think he could probably beat me up if he wanted to.  Then again, I’ve taken a lot of karate lessons so it might be a good fight.  Well, I haven’t taken lessons but I’ve watched The Karate Kid like 12 times so I’m probably just below a black belt.  Do you guys think Tarzan has a black belt?  He probably doesn’t.  Even with my extensive background in karate, Tarzan would probably beat me up because he has the power of the jungle behind him.  I might be able to beat him if I fought dirty, like throwing sand in his eyes or paying the person he loves the most to desert him the night before the fight.  I don’t think I’d fight dirty, but you can never underestimate a man on the edge.

Either way, I think we could learn to become friends and not fight at all, and then split approximately two whole packs of Flavor Ices.  I’d even let him have some of the blue ones if he wanted, but I’d keep most of them for myself.  Even if he was my best friend, I have to look out for numero uno.

Some things I liked about The Legend of Tarzan:

  • Jumping. There was a lot of jumping in this movie, which is a good workout.  Most of the movie was Tarzan either jumping at, or over, people and animals.  If I had to bet, I’d say Tarzan can probably dunk a basketball, although I doubt he’d even know what it was.  Talk about a waste of talent.
  • Animals. I like animals, and there were a lot of them in this movie.  Lions, monkeys, elephants, you name it.  In my opinion, not enough time was devoted to watching Tarzan pet the animals.  All animals like to be pet, even the stingy ones who play tough to get.
  • No Jane Goodall. Jane Goodall is a woman who thinks she knows everything about monkeys.  There was a Jane in this movie, but it wasn’t Jane Goodall, thank God.  I bet Goodall would try to tell Tarzan not to wrestle with the monkeys, which would have ruined like half the movie.  You don’t know everything.  Have some humility, Jane Goodall.

Some things I didn’t like about The Legend of Tarzan:

  • No Phil Collins. There wasn’t a single Phil Collins song in this movie, which I thought was extremely rude.  Many people (me) have called Phil Collins, “The Voice of Tarzan,” and it was pretty lame that he wasn’t in this film at all.
  • No Brad Pitt. Brad Pitt is my favorite actor, and it felt like a deliberate slight to not cast him as Tarzan, or at least as Jane.  Brad Pitt is pretty enough to play Jane, and I think it would have been a progressive choice by the director.  It’s 2016!  Men can play ladies if they want, and vice versa.  Should have brought in Brad.
  • Unrealistic. There was an incident a little bit ago where a gorilla got a hold of a child at a zoo.  The Legend of Tarzan would have you believe that the little boy would grow up to be great warrior and be able to grab stuff with his feet, but all that happened was Harambe the gorilla got shot.  I stood up and said, “This one’s for Harambe!” during one of the fight scenes, and everyone clapped.  Then I said it like 15 more times, and they forcibly removed me from the theater.  What are they trying to hide?  We may never know.

I really liked The Legend of Tarzan.  It was probably the best non-animated adaptation of a story about a man raised by monkeys that I’ve ever seen.  Overall, I give this movie five out of five banana peels.  See you at the movies!  I’ll be the one trying to borrow some of your candy.

Adam Jensen’s Last Will and Testament

Brad Pitt Crying.pngLet me preface this by saying that I am not dying.  At least I don’t think I am.  Although I do have a pretty bad pain in my back at the moment, but it’s probably either from the 10,000 push-ups I did last week (not true) or the fact that I got drunk and passed out in my hallway this weekend (true).  This is merely an exercise that I came across and thought looked interesting, so I’m doing it.  Please don’t spread the word that I am dying.  It will somehow get back to my mother, and she will be pissed at me.

My Last Will and Testament

If you are reading this, then I’ve kicked the bucket.  Just like Sean Bean’s character in any movie or show Sean Bean has ever been in, I am dead.  Let me first say sorry, because the world just lost a pretty good guy and an even better petter of dogs.  I will undoubtedly have perished doing something incredibly badass, like riding a shark, or base jumping from the world’s tallest building, or removing the tags from my mattress even though it’s against federal law.  My lifestyle can be best described as “rock and roll,” and I spent most of my time on Earth demonstrating to people that I was a cowboy who played by no man’s rules but my own.  It was a life well lived, to be sure.

I have a few requests for my funeral, and I’ll list them here shortly.  Just keep in mind that these wishes have to be granted, it’s basically a law.  If any of these are neglected, I’m going to come back and haunt the shit out of you.

  • Each one of my pall bearers should be dressed as a different character from The Avengers. Nobody will be Captain America, because I still very much believe that he is real.  A spot will be left for him to carry the casket, even if he’s probably got way more important shit to take care of, like saving the planet or thinking about his long lost love.
  • There must be a wolf howling when my body is lowered into the ground. I don’t care how it’s accomplished, it just needs to happen.  Wolves have been scientifically proven to be the most badass animal on the planet, and if one is howling as I’m laid to rest people will realize that I was even cooler than they could have possibly imagined, because I clearly affected this wolf in a very profound way.
  • I would like a 21 gun salute, but not in the traditional sense; I know that those are reserved for members of the military, and I respect our soldiers too much to take that from them. At my funeral, the gun shots will be replaced by the hand claps from the hit sitcom, Friends.  I should also mention that in a perfect world, the cast would be there to do the claps.  But I understand that there is a bit of enmity between the former members of the show, and will begrudgingly accept if the cast isn’t present.
  • There need to be security guards with ear pieces and microphones that they keep talking into. This will give the impression that I was involved in some sort of secret government shit that even my closest friends and family weren’t privy to.
  • In some capacity, there must be a guy in a kilt playing bagpipes.  Try to get this Scotsman to play “Journey Through the Past,” because that song is sad as shit and people will sob their effing brains out.
  • A random person that nobody else knows should step forward at some point and proclaim that I was “the voice of a generation.” That person will then try to keep talking, be overcome with emotion, and leave the cemetery.  I will accept the hiring of a professional actor to fill this role.
  • I leave the substantial student load debt that I have accrued to the government. They have earned it.
  • Please do not read from The Bible. The Bible is boring.  I’m not discounting its historical and religious importance, but people will probably fall asleep if you read from The Bible.  Instead, read a number of important quotes from the Harry Potter series.  People will probably be fucking psyched about it, as I know I would be.  “Best funeral ever,” they’ll say.
  • My eulogy should imply that I was a quiet but very influential member of several prominent bands. The bands do not necessarily have to be named, but slipping song titles into the eulogy (i.e. “Under the Bridge,” “All Star,” “With Arms Wide Open,” etc.) is encouraged.
  • Photoshop me into photos with important world leaders. These should be placed surreptitiously around the funeral, and do not need to be mentioned in any speeches; doing so will keep my personal doings shrouded in mystery, like any number of historical characters from one of the National Treasure   I should mention that I only want photos with the good world leaders, not pieces of shit like Sadaam Hussein or whichever fat dude is now running North Korea.
  • Place a photo of Brad Pitt on top of my casket, as well as a photo of mine. People will probably know that Brad isn’t also being interred, but it’ll make them think twice.
  • Have both a dog and a cat at the entrance to the funeral. People can pet whichever they choose, but if they don’t pet either one, then send them the fuck away.  They are not welcome at my service.
  • At some point, Kid Rock’s “Bawitdaba” must be played while my close friends and family form a mosh pit. This will undoubtedly make them extremely uncomfortable, but I do not care.  It will show the big guy upstairs that while I may not have lived the most virtuous life, I do have a sense of humor.  “That’s fucking hilarious Adam,” He’ll probably say, and we’ll do some crazy handshake and drink some hot chocolate about it or maybe even a Triple Thick Strawberry Banana milkshake.  They must mosh until the song ends, no exceptions.
  • There should be a bouncy castle there, but under no circumstances will anybody be allowed on. Seeing a bouncy castle and not being able to go wild on it would be absolutely devastating, and remind the people gathered that even the best things in life can be used as instruments of profound sadness.

There you have it.  I believe these requests to be both reasonable and feasible, and there will be serious spiritual repercussions if any of these tasks go undone.  If you ever get rained on before an important meeting, or it seems like nothing’s going your way, or a gust of wind blows your sailboat out to sea and you get involved in some sort of daring adventure involving pirates and treasure and damsels in distress and then Tom Hanks plays you in a movie based on that true story, just know the Big Man upstairs and I are cheering you on.  Have a good life!  I’ll be waiting for you up top.

Woodward Nightmare.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.  Let’s take our old cars and drive up and down the street!” – An Idiot

“Yeah!  We’ll all bring ours too!  Let’s do this!” – Thousands of Other Idiots

I wasn’t around when the Woodward Dream Cruise started, but I imagine the conversation to get it started went a lot like that.  A lot of people say that if they had a time machine, they’d go back and kill Hitler.  I wouldn’t.  I would go back, get Hitler, bring him back here, and put him behind the wheel of a car while he’s stuck in bumper to bumper traffic for hours and hours.

Then I’m pretty sure Hitler would kill himself.

For those of you who are mercifully unaware of what the Woodward Dream Cruise is, I’ll enlighten you.  It’s an annual celebration of classic hot rods and American muscle cars; a weekend where people from all over the country descend upon a small stretch of highway in southeastern Michigan to rev their engines and waste thousands of gallons of one of the most valuable fuel sources available to mankind.  It’s like one big NASCAR event, if there was a NASCAR event that involved cars maxing out at 10 MPH; one where nobody wins, but almost everybody loses.

The Dream Cruise brings a lot of money to the area, and I suppose for that I should be thankful.  Except the businesses that tend to receive the money; motels, fast food restaurants, etc.; usually attract society’s lower rung.  For instance, one of the motels that rely heavily on the Dream Cruise weekend to stay afloat was the site of a murder last year.  But any press is good press, right?

Generally speaking, there are 4 types of people that attend the Woodward Dream Cruise.

  1. The Back Woods Families.
    They love the Dream Cruise because, well, it’s free. These peoples’ idea of entertainment is setting up a lawn chair, downing a few Budweisers, and watching old folks listen to Bruce Springsteen.  These are the people who have Dale Earnhardt-themed birthday cakes, even though he died 15 years ago (RIP, Intimidator).  The people who have Truck Nutz swinging from their ’89 Dodge Ram.  The people who eat regularly at Fuddruckers.  They often attend Monster Truck events.
  2. The Young Guns.
    These guys are different. They don’t care about the “Classic” cars, and they could give a shit about you and your family.  They drive something like a Ford Probe or Dodge Neon with tinted windows and a super loud muffler, usually blaring an “underground” white rapper (probably their cousin) who uses far too many curse words.  They use this weekend to try to forget that they dropped out of high school, and they’ll fight you if you look at their car wrong, or look too educated.  They’ll probably be wearing FUBU jerseys and smoking Menthol cigarettes.
  3. The White Trash.
    The classic Dream Cruiser. A cross between Back Woods and Young Gun, these people are here to get drunk and see how many people they can offend at once.  Taking a break from their trailers and guns, you’ll usually find male White Trashers with either camo shirts, Oakley Gas Can sunglasses, and sagging jean shorts; many times, all at once.  Like the Young Guns, they’re drawn to loud music, and tend to identify with the shittier cars on display.  They won’t take off their sunglasses if they’re inside, unless it’s to put them on the back of their head.  Females tend to sport lower back tattoos, multiple body piercings, and clothes that show far too much skin for a family event.
  4. The New Hot Shot.
    This is the guy from out of town who heard about “a place to show off your car” and decided to drive up his brand new Corvette. He’s under the impression that women will flock to his ride, and he’s usually wearing far too much cologne.  He gets pissed at little kids when they touch his car, and has little to no people skills.  In short, he’s a douche, one who’s way out of his element.

The Dream Cruise brings together these societal outsiders and gives them a place to thrive.  It also means that for three days, it’s impossible to find a parking spot in front of my own house.  My 10 minute drive to work turns into 45.  People throw trash on my lawn, fight each other, and occasionally, key my car.  Wohoo!  Dream Cruise!  REV YOUR ENGINE LOUDER, DO IT LOUDER, PEEL OUT, YES YES YES YES!!! CRUISIN’ WOODWARD!!!

The thing is, I honestly don’t have a problem with any of the people I listed above; as long as they don’t make my life a living hell.  Live your life how you want, enjoy what you want to enjoy.  If you want to spend your free time watching other people in traffic, go ahead.  If you want to buy your clinically obese 9 year old multiple elephant ears, you should do that!  Do what you want!  Just don’t do it so damn close to my house.

Fourth of July

More like U-S-YAY!

The Fourth of July is a holiday uniquely American in its tradition.  Independence Day, as it is often called, celebrates the day that George Washington first bit into a hot and juicy Ballpark Frank.  It’s called “Independence Day” because our country’s first president was tired of counting on the British for food and was determined to eat what he liked, when he wanted.  The British are notoriously disgusting eaters, and consume snails and fish eggs and even animal poop I think.  George wasn’t having any of that shit (ha!), which is why many people around the country tend to commemorate the holiday by firing up their grills (not the kind you put in your teeth) and cooking up some hot dogs.  Grilling hot dogs is one of the most American things you can do, along with owning guns and invading other people’s land.  George Washington did all three, and that’s why he was elected president.

People celebrate the Fourth in a number of different ways; in truth, there are very few wrong ways to celebrate the best country on earth.  I, for one, try to do everything that French people cannot do, like be nice to my neighbors and think about how my country has won wars before.  Could you imagine living in France?  I could never hate myself that much.  Here are a few popular ways to honor America on this country’s most special day.

  1. Hot Dogs.  I touched on the hot diggity dogs up above, but they can’t be mentioned enough.  It’s been said that along with hamburgers, hot dogs are one of the only foods that is almost entirely American in origin.  In fact, legend has it that the first hot dog ever was made by George Washington with the meat of his conquered British enemies on the battlefield.  I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I do know that the British aren’t to be trusted.
  2. Boats.  I believe that George Washington tactfully chose July 4th as the date with which America would be remembered, for the simple fact that in almost every part of the country, July represents the height of boating season.  Fun fact: it has never rained on the Fourth of July, not even once.  There are a few “Boats and No’s”, things you shouldn’t do on the open water, the most important of which is wearing a shirt while you swim.  It doesn’t matter how fat you are, that white undershirt isn’t doing anything to hide your girth, and frankly you’re disrespecting the founding fathers when you wear one.  The young men of America’s past didn’t die so you could embarrass your friends like that.  Benjamin Franklin (the guy who invented the kite) was pretty tubby, but he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a shirt while swimming.
  3. Fireworks.  Depending on whom you ask, fireworks are either a child’s favorite holiday delight or a Vietnam War veteran’s worst nightmare.  Either way, fireworks represent the most legal way to blow things up, something that Americans have been innately drawn to do for centuries.  The Fourth of July is the United States’ birthday, and I consider fireworks to be the candles of America.
    Sidenote: “Sparklers” are not fireworks.  Unless you’re 1-5 years old and can’t comprehend the awesomeness of our country, don’t disrespect it with what are essentially really long matchsticks.
  4. Movies.  If you don’t have access to a grill, a boat, or fireworks, fear not; you can still bask in the glory of Uncle Sam.  Almost every television station in the country plays patriotic movies all Fourth of July weekend, as they damn well should.  Your tube will undoubtedly be filled with such iconic films as The Patriot, Independence Day, and the National Treasure series, among others.  These features star noted Americans Mel Gibson, Will Smith, and Nicolas Cage.  It’s estimated that if the Americans had the sleuthing skills of Nicolas Cage back when they were fighting the British, we would have won the Revolutionary War in less than three weeks.  He truly is The National Treasure.

Just remember: America was founded on the idea of freedom for every man, so no matter what, don’t let anybody dictate how you should spend your Independence Day.  If your neighbors, the “police,” or even your family try to get in the way of your patriotism, tell them you bleed Red, White, and Blue.  Show everybody just how American you are by chugging a Budweiser on your boat, with the Union Jack draped around your shoulders and Francis Scott Key’s pièce de résistance playing in the background; and know that you’re living in the greatest country on the planet.