Clark's Favorite Things 2014 (Part IV of VII)

Let's talk t-shirts.
We love to wear t-shirts. Like no other garment, they help us draw attention to ourselves through the expression of some thought, idea or philosophy while we're simultaneously being annoyed that people are staring at us.
Here are my favorite t-shirt things...

FAVORITE PLAIN T-SHIRT

Blank.

This one, I guess. I'm pretty sure I got it at a gas station. Honestly, I have about a dozen of these, maybe more and I don't think there's a notable difference between any of them. I don't know. This one is fine.

FAVORITE T-SHIRT ASSOCIATED WITH A CAUSE OR TWO

Angry.

Unlike a lot of people, I've taken the unpopular stance of not liking cancer. Also, I sincerely believe that women should be empowered. I don't mean by yelling empty platitudes like "you go, girl!" like a trained bird all the time. I mean by giving women their just due, respecting them as individuals and not associating femininity with inferiority. This is a t-shirt that works on different levels.

FAVORITE T-SHIRT WITH A FOCUS ON A SPECIFIC CAUSE

Fightin' mad.

My friend Marissa is currently fighting cancer. I wear this t-shirt to support her in her efforts.

FAVORITE STUPID T-SHIRT

So, so stupid.

A couple of weeks ago, Monica wore a t-shirt on the Spike on the Mic Show that read "Wisconsin: Smell the dairy air". That's pretty stupid. Then, last week Mike Pepper wore a t-shirt to our post-show dinner that read "My Pen is Huge". That's really stupid! I realized I don't own any stupid t-shirts so I went out and got the one featured above. Lots and lots of choices for stupid t-shirts out there but I selected this one. This is my stupid t-shirt. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My stupid t-shirt is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. (see below for a humorous aside)

FAVORITE SMART T-SHIRT

Contemplating Shakespeare and/or math.

I've never attended Harvard. I've never even visited the campus. You can say I have no business wearing a Harvard t-shirt, but so what? I've seen you wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt and I know for a fact that you're not a member of that band. I subscribe to the Harvard Lampoon and I'm Facebook friends with Megan Amram and she went there. So, comedy pedigree established!

HUMOROUS ASIDE ABOUT THE STUPID T-SHIRT

Tuesday, the day I thought it was going to arrive, this happened:
(Knock, knock)
BETH: "Hello. I'm Beth and this is Matt and we have some important information for you regarding current events and what it says about that in the book of Revelations!"
ME: "Oh. Hi Beth. Hello Matt. I thought you were delivering my t-shirt. If I had known it was you guys, I would have ignored you knocking while watching you through my window."
BETH: "Oh... well, what we have for you is far more important than a t-shirt..."
ME: "Nice recovery, but I don't think so. You see, this t-shirt has a picture of a hot dog on it and says 'I want to be inside you'. Ha ha ha! What do you think, Matt?"
BETH and MATT: "... "
ME: "Listen, you both seem nice... matt, you aren't very talkative. But I'm not a fan of people using fear as a sales tool, whether it's for hurricane shutters or the merits of a particular faith-based belief system. So I'm going to close the door now and watch you walk away while I wait for the mail. Have a nice day and like us on Facebook."
MATT: "Oh. Um, well. Uh..."
ME: "Too late, Matt."
(Door closes)

Clark's Favorite Things 2014 (Part III of VII)

As I mentioned on Monday, I haven't taken a vacation in a while. I don't have a really good reason for it either. I don't have a job that requires me to be available around the clock like a heart surgeon or anything like that. It's just one of those things that slips through the cracks. I guess.
For example, I actually planned on making a trip up to St. Paul, Minnesota when the Lightning played the Wild this season, figuring I could tie it in with a write-up for Raw Charge and also travel around the Twin Cities area and geek out on all kinds of Prince stuff. Prior to the big trip, a friend asked me, "I thought you were planning a trip up to Minnesota. Do you have your plane tickets and hotel reservations?" I said, "Nah, that's not 'til October." She said, "November is next week." "Oh."
Yep, I forgot to take a vacation. I think maybe doing nice things for myself is not always a priority.
With that, here's my list of favorite places to vacation.

MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

I haven't been but I know it will be fun when I finally go. I will stroll right up to the front door of Paisley Park, Prince's recording studio and performance facility (in relatively nearby Chanhassen) and say, "Hi. I'm here to see Prince, if he's around, and all the Prince things." Whoever answers will be suitably charmed and let me in. I don't see a logical reason why that wouldn't happen. I'll also visit the First Avenue nightclub and...well, I guess that's about it. Huh. That should take one day. I'll spend the rest of the time swimming in lakes and going to Twins games.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

I've been to Chicago dozens of times and in fact, it's where I spent my last vacation. There are millions of things to do and I know where stuff is and how to get there. Must visits include The Billy Goat Tavern, Second City, Portillo's and all the museums. I'm hesitant to mention Wrigley Field and the surrounding neighborhood because I'm kind of afraid of the impact that renovations currently taking place are going to have.

CASPERSEN BEACH (VENICE, FLORIDA)

I'm somewhat reluctant to mention this one because if the wrong bunch of fools find out about it, they'll come down and ruin it. Notice the lack of condo towers, t-shirt shops and shitty "beach bars"? Exactly. There are places to stay, but they're mostly small, mom-and-pop operations (this one is my favorite). It's what I think the Gulf Coast of Florida must have been like during the '50s.

SILVER LAKE SAND DUNES, MICHIGAN

This is north of where I grew up and I haven't been there in years, but it's absolutely beautiful there. My uncle Dave lived there for a while and he operated a place that had a waterslide, a miniature golf course and an ice cream shop. He also rented boats and drove dune cars like the one seen in this photo. People would bring their off-road vehicles from all over to participate (and fail) in hill climbs. As a kid, it was a pretty incredible place to spend a summer. I gotta believe it's not too shabby now.

MY HOUSE, TAMPA

I love being home. Not that I have a high-stress job, but as soon as I pull into my driveway, I can feel myself relax. It's the one place on the planet where I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. Every day I'm there is a vacation.

Well, this has been a corny, sappy, sepia-tinged, nostalgia-soaked edition of Favorite Things, hasn't it? All we need is some dickhead strumming an acoustic guitar to make us all throw up. Come back Friday. Things will be a tad more raucous, I promise.

Clark's Favorite Things 2014 (Part II of VII)

Most people who work in an office decorate their work area with a collection of things that make them happy. Most, not all. There are employers who are bent on crushing any small spark of joy that might exist in the lives of their employees. I know because I've worked for some. But those of us among the fortunate display photos of loved ones or places we've visited on vacation, trophies and awards or even little toys and trinkets. I have all of that stuff. Well, no photos of loved ones or loved ones themselves. And no awards to speak of. Also, I haven't been on vacation in about 10 years. But I have tons of toys and trinkets!

FAVORITE TOY

This is a Tampa Bay Lightning Zamboni from OYO Sports piloted by Homer Simpson. Homer is sold separately because he's a Lego and Legos and OYOs are not the same thing (Note: they totally are). A Zamboni is a machine that resurfaces the ice at skating rinks. I like to pretend that this keeps my desktop nice and clean and suitably slippery. 

FAVORITE SIGNED BASEBALL

This is a baseball signed by Mike Veeck. Mike is the son of legendary baseball owner and promoter extraordinaire Bill Veeck. Mike is an owner and promotional genius in his own rite and the guru behind the "Fun Is Good" philosophy. That's a principle upon which I try to live my life. This ball says "Clark, You're right. Fun IS good! Thanks, Mike Veeck" and helps keep me focused and motivated.

FAVORITE RETIRED TAMPA BAY LIGHTNING PLAYER

Another source of focus and motivation is this poster of former Tampa Bay Lightning forward Vaclav "Vinny" Prospal. This pictre shows him wearing a bronze medal earned while playing for the Czech Republic men's national team in the 2006 Olympics. A bronze medal, which is awarded for coming in third. And look how happy he is! If somebody can be that happy with a third-place medal, I don't think I have a right to complain about my lot in life.

FAVORITE PIECE OF SHOW BIZ MEMORABILIA

When I worked at the Sun Dome, this nutty group of kids basically spent every penny they had among them to attend a concert we were hosting (Slipknot). They arrived before noon and were planning to sit in the broiling summer sun until the doors opened at 7:00. I found all this out by going out and talking to them. Throughout that day, I made sure they had water, walked them in and out for bathroom breaks and even bought them pizza. The last time I went to check on them before they went inside, they presented me with this "thank you" note that they had written and signed on the back of a flyer for some after-show party. I had it framed and it's the only real souvenir I've hung onto in all these years in the business.

FAVORITE ACTOR

I love Paul Newman, especially as player/coach Reggie Dunlop of the fictional Charlestown Chiefs in "Slap Shot", a role he said was his personal favorite. It's hands-down the best minor league sports movie of all time (if you think it's "Bull Durham", I just feel sorry for you). This photo serves to remind me of all the inspirational and motivational things he said in this movie, like, "Goddamn lard-ass Barkley Donaldson, I'm tellin' you he jumped us! Gloves off, stick down, no warning, he challenged the Chiefs! Called us names!" and "It's their rink, it's their ice, and it's their fuckin' town. But tonight we got our fans with us! They spent their own dough to get here, and they came here to see us! All right, let's show 'em what we got, guys! Get out there on the ice and let 'em know you're there. Get that fuckin' stick in their side. Let 'em know you're there! Get that lumber in his teeth. Let 'em know you're there!" as well as "Oh you cheap son of a bitch. Are you crazy? Those guys are retards!"and of course, "Jesus Christ, what a friggin' nightmare...". I'm also a big fan of his spaghetti sauces.

FAVORITE HAT

Because sometimes, an office needs a sheriff.

FAVORITE COFFEE MUG

Oh, what a shock; Clark is going to plug his book! This time in the form of this sweet mug emblazoned by the cover illustration (by Jessie Stehlik) from "A Ridiculously Inconsistent Treasury". Want one? You can get one here.

OTHER FAVORITE COFFEE MUG

First Avenue is the legendary nightclub that became famous after being featured in "Purple Rain". I've never been there  but I'll get there some day. Until then, I'll drink coffee.

ANOTHER FAVORITE COFFEE MUG

What can I say? I'm a company man.

YET ANOTHER FAVORITE COFFEE MUG

This was a gift from my friend Donna. Nobody who knows anything about dinosaurs will steal the T-Rex's coffee mug.

DAMN SON, THAT'S A LOT OF FAVORITE COFFEE MUGS

This isn't really a coffee mug, but you never know when a 1950's-style luau party might break out.

Clark's Favorite Things 2014 (Part I of VII)

You know which two people on this planet have a lot in common? Oprah Winfrey and me (nobody else).
Oprah recently released her list of Favorite Things (2014 edition) in which you'll find what "Oprah tasted, tested, sniffed, snuggled, brewed, steeped, read, shared and dared—Check out what she's calling her favorite, favorite gifts to give and receive this year." The very first item on her list? $700 headphones.

No offense to Oprah. I have tremendous respect for her and I would go so far as to say I'm a fan. But you know who needs $700 headphones? Nobody. In fact, if you have $700 headphones or think that you need them and you're not a multi-Grammy award-winning record producer, or somebody else who might need something like that for your job, you're an asshole. I'm sorry, but that's just excessive. I don't care what they're made out of or how they're manufactured. The only purpose of any set of headphones is to act as a sort of conduit between the sounds that come out of some device or another and your brain via your earholes. There is simply no justifiable excuse (Wires made out of mink? Each set molded to the exact dimensions of each individual customer's head? Dipped in real gold?) for a delivery system like that to cost $700. If you're one of these people who say (and actually believe) things like, "yeah, but a really good pair of headphones allows you to hear micro-chords and subtle sub-layers of ambient harmonies that would be impossible to appreciate otherwise", you're a gullible idiot.

"Oh yes, your majesty! A pair of $700 headphones is EXACTLY what you need to complete that ensemble!"

First of all Johan Sebastian Stradivarius, nobody is impressed with your snobby, self-proclaimed, pitch-perfect audiophile sensibilities. Secondly, if Bon Jovi (which is what you listen to when you're not trying to impress people) wanted you to hear all that shit, they would have made it louder.
You know what's just as good as $700 headphones? .79 headphones.

Sit on them. Leave them behind on a plane or in a taxi. Drop them on the floor. Drop them on the floor and then drop heavier things on top of them. Let your dog chew on them. Do weird things to your own butt with them. Who cares? They're .79! You could literally go through two pairs a day every day for a year, even if it's a leap year, and save about a third of what you would have spent on $700 headphones.
And they do just as good a job of getting the crappy music you like into your crappy ears.

Anyway, all this has made me realize that since Oprah and I are so alike, albeit with slightly different ideas of what is good and/or necessary, that I should do my OWN (ha!) list of Favorite Things, so that's exactly what I'm going to do between now and the day after Thanksgiving, the official, semi-reasonable start to the madness that is The Holiday Shopping Season (if you shop on Thanksgiving Day or you own a company that requires people to work on Thanksgiving Day, you're a savage and probably the kind of asshole who aspires to own a pair of $700 headphones some day). There will be six entries between now and then and each will highlight different items that I determine are favorite enough for you to maybe go out and get.

Think of it as an advent calendar crossed with a shopping catalog in the form of a blog!

Think of it as a blog that doesn't serve much of a purpose!*

Think of it as a gimmick that seems to be a bigger deal than it really is by virtue of entries being labeled with Roman numerals!

Think of it as a way for me to be relatively lazy for two weeks by not having to work very hard to come up with new material!

This particular entry doesn't really count; it's really just an introduction and not an actual endorsement of the .79 headphones. I mean, I like 'em but they're not a favorite thing. Go ahead and buy some. Or don't. Who cares?

• Part II of VII - Monday, November 17
• Part III of VII - Wednesday, November 19
• Part IV of VII - Friday, November 21
• Part V of VII - Monday, November 24
• Part VI of VII - Wednesday, November 26
• Part VII of VII (Grand Finale!) - Black Friday, November 28

* as is always the case

Brooks family pride

You know, I'm always proud and happy to be a member of the Brooks family. Who wouldn't be? I consider my dad to have been a pretty great man. My mom was certainly a good person. My sister isn't currently in jail. I don't think she is... no, pretty sure she's good.
And that's just my immediate family!
When you get into the extended branches of the family tree, you find some pretty remarkable people...

My Uncle Mel is responsible for some of the funniest movies ever made. He remains consistently hilarious to this day.

Cousin Derrick won a Super Bowl as a linebacker with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, was recently elected to the Pro Football Hall of Fame and is active in the Tampa Bay community.

And then the other day, cousin Garth, a country crooner of some renown, did this...



Yep, some fine folks in the Brooks family. And our family reunions are a blast.

Confirmed: I'm doomed to be single

Hey, remember the time when I wrote this? You might. But you might not know that I actually signed up and joined OK Cupid. You know, strictly for research, because that's the kind of thoroughly professional writer I am, fully immersing myself in the subject matter in order to gain a better perspective.
Of course, if I happened to get any responses to my personal ad in the process, well, I guess that's okay too.
Anyway, yeah, I've been signed up for some time now and I get one or two emails a week with "matches" the service has found for me. Typically, each email has four or five profiles, rated anywhere between 30 and 80% compatible. The overwhelming majority of which I don't even bother to check out, due in large part to how many are closer to 30% than the 80% range. They've even sent me some that are lower than that, including a few rated at 0%. What possible reason could I have for pursuing a relationship with someone with whom I share so few common interests? Either OK Cupid feels they have to send me something or they think I'm looking for someone to not get along with. At any rate, my point is there are not a lot of matches out there for me.
I knew that before I signed up though. I'm weird. I'm not good looking. I have some strange ideas. I can be difficult to deal with. Basically, I'm the worst person I know. I'm fully aware that I don't have a lot to offer and that most people reach that conclusion within minutes of meeting me, if they hadn't already preconceived that notion. Still, under the popularly-held concept that there is a lid for every pot, I remained hopeful that I metaphors could mix and that my lid could slip through the cracks. Then, last week OK Cupid sent me an email with a link to this profile:

A 91%! That never happens! I think the highest I've ever gotten before was an 85%. Never one within 10 percentage points or less of perfect. They even drew a gold circle around it! This was very encouraging...until I read the self-summary just below.
It's not easy to read, but this is how it starts;

"I changed my orientation because I am not absolutely sure anymore. I have been what I consider straight all my life but now I am wondering if I might have feelings for women so I decided to try okcupid and investigate. "

That's right; the best match that OK Cupid has ever found for me is a 44-year-old woman who signed up so she could meet women. This isn't a criticism of her. It's certainly not her fault that she wound up sorted into my bin and I wish her nothing but the best of luck in finding whatever it is she's looking for. But what about me? I now have to go forward with the knowledge that there's an algorithm out there that has determined I'm best suited to date women over 40 who have made a decision now to self-identify as prospective lesbians. That means my ideal soul mate is a mature woman who is one left-up toilet seat from giving up on men forever.
Sometimes the universe sends you a sign, other times it sends you an email with a big gold circle drawn around the pertinent info.

Oh shirt!

As a writer and fan, few things bug me more than war metaphors applied to sports. Games are not battles. Athletes are not warriors. Simply because they aren't. Sports and war are two entirely different things. Beyond the fact that there are opposing sides, they have nothing whatsoever to do with each other. To attempt to draw similarities between them is to artificially inflate the depth and meaning of games and those who play them for the purpose of entertaining spectators. These metaphors are applied to all sports from time to time but football practically feeds on them. As a practice, it's crude, lazy and frankly, kind of tasteless. Of course, I suppose war metaphors are not as crude and inappropriate as rape metaphors. This is a picture of a t-shirt that was issued to football players at Arlington Martin High School in Arlington, Texas.

It says "Martin Football - We take what we want - Shhhhhhh - Just let it happen" and was apparently the brainchild of students(!). Predictably, adults affiliated with the school and its football program don't see a problem.

“It’s sickening to me that the (slogan) was misconstrued, And it’s weird that it has been out for so long and just came up.” - Kevin White, booster club president

“I've seen the shirts several times since July, and not once did it cross my mind that it was inappropriate. I have a wife, I have a daughter, I have a mother. Our players have sisters and cousins. It’s unwarranted. Our kids deserve better, especially from their own school. One of the things we've done really well throughout the years is winning the take-away battle, In fact, when you leave our locker room, there’s only one billboard on the wall and it simply says ‘take aways.’ The act of piracy, taking what you want. What we want is the football.” - football coach Bob Wager

Ohhh, so it's supposed to be a pirate football thing, not a pirate rape thing. Okay, that helps me understand the imagery; I was thinking that the Martin mascot was Native American Pirates with Gym Memberships. It does not however, wash with the words on the shirt. Can you imagine a high school football player, perhaps a defensive end, pumped up with adrenaline coursing through his body just prior to the snap, feet pawing the turf like an about-to-charge rodeo bull, screaming "WE TAKE WHAT WE WANT!".

Sure, that's reasonably something that might happen during a football game.

Now imagine what happens next. The ball is snapped, our defender fires off the line so quickly and ferociously that he catches the opposing tackle by surprise. In a flash he's past him and in the offensive backfield. A running back who stayed behind to block offers only token resistance and the defender is bearing down on a defenseless quarterback. His legs churning like pistons, he embraces the quarterback in a vice-like grip with one powerful arm and clawing at the ball in the quarterback's hands with the other, and he says softly, "Shhhhhhh, just let it happen".

Hmm...

The booster club president says the slogan has been around a long time, though. According to the Star-Telegram, the team is currently 6-2 (5-0 in District 4-6A), has won five straight games and is expected to make the playoffs for the ninth consecutive year under coach Wager. It must be working! Along with a defensive game plan that emphasizes intimidating behavior, failure to respect boundaries, maybe slipping a little "mood enhancer" into the opponents water supply, where their provocative uniforms (come on, look at those tight, shiny pants) suggest that they're practically begging to fumble the ball away or throw an interception. Come on, you know they want it.

I voted... I think

I'm generally not a fan of conspiracy theories. I mean, I certainly get the appeal. I'm sure it's lots of fun to hunt for a series of arbitrary circumstances that have one or two things in common and then let those coincidental similarities prevail over any kind of rational thought and reasoning ability to guide your actions. But generally I think the folks who believe in massive conspiracies give people way too much credit. It's almost impossible in most offices to pass a birthday card around for signatures without the celebrant finding out about it. I seriously doubt any organization's ability to make the necessary arrangements required to launch the kind of conspiracy that would actually be worth a damn.
Still, things happen that make me wonder sometimes...
For example, yesterday I went to my friendly neighborhood polling place for the purpose of participating in democracy. It was important for me to make my choice for governor, even though picking between Rick Scott and Charlie Crist is like choosing between a shit sandwich and a shit sandwich with a side of cold curly fries.

Oh darn, I can only pick one?

Also, I did cast a YES vote on amendment two, so you're welcome when your stupid hobby is completely legal in a few years allowing you to stumble around like a moron in public without being hassled, you dipshit potheads. I got in the A-J line, since my last name is Brooks, and I gave the lady at the desk my identification. "I don't need that", she said, taking my drivers license but rejecting the voters registration card. "I said, "Okay, but the license has my old address. The voters registration is up to date." She replied, "Mm-hmm". She thumbed through her book and got to the page with my name on it. I know she did because the book has entries printed so that both the person using it and a person on the other side of a desk can read it because it needs to be signed and that makes it so you don't have to turn the book around every time someone signs it. Smart! She said, "Okay, go see the lady at the issues table down at the end of this line. I was confused but said okay. Maybe there was some flag that only showed on her side of the book. I got to the issues table and they gave me a form to fill out and sign, which was basically a confirmation of my address info. I handed it to that lady and she said, "Okay, you'll be getting a new voters registration card in four to six weeks. Don't worry, you will be able to vote today." I asked, "What's wrong with the card? All the info on it is accurate. It's my license that needs to be updated." She said, "Oh no, this card is no good." I said, "Are you sure? I've used it before." "Not here though." "Yeah, in the last election back in August. Right here in this room. I'm parked in the same spot I parked in that day." "Well, it was valid then but it's not valid now."
Thoroughly baffled, I took my ballot and went to the little booth to fill my ballot in. It happened to be right next to where the lady with the A-J lady was sitting. As I'm standing there filling in the little circles, the lady from the issues table came down and had this conversation with the A-J lady...

"Did you have Brooks?
"Brooks? No. (thumbs through book, finds the page with my name)"
"Yes, this guy right here. (points to my info)"
"Him? No, he didn't come here."

At this point I chime in.

"Yes, I did. Hi."
"No you didn't. (looks at me like I just teleported in from Mars)"
"Yeah, I really did. I told you the address on my license needed to be updated and you didn't want to look at my voters registration card. Remember? Seriously, you don't remember that? It happened less than ten minutes ago. I'm literally the last person to come up to your desk."
"(continues to look at me like I just teleported in from Mars)"

I'm standing there with my filled out ballot in my hand and all the poll workers are looking at me. "So now what?", I ask. "Is this invalid? Do I need to start over?" "No no no", the issues table lady says. "It's fine." "Are you sure? What about what you told me about my card being invalid?" That's when the lady who was guarding the actual vote-counting machine stepped in and said, "Your vote will count. Today." Well now, why did she say it like that? I didn't say anything about my vote not counting. And what's with the emphasis on "today"? What the hell is going on? What happens next time? These are all questions I should probably ask of somebody in charge over at the League of Women Voters when things calm down. If I'm going to get up early and go some place where I might have to stand in a line for a few minutes, I sure don't need some shadowy underground cabal descending on St. Chad's Episcopal Church to negate my efforts.

Much ado about 2

I've never smoked pot. Does the fact that I referred to it as 'pot' prove it? Because I don't even know what the officially sanctioned slang term is. Is it 'pot'? Maybe 'grass' or 'weed'? Don't answer that because I don't care.
On Tuesday, I'll have to vote yay or nay on Florida's Amendment Two, which is summarized as such:

"The Florida Right to Medical Marijuana Initiative, Amendment 2 is on the November 4, 2014 ballot in the state of Florida as an initiated constitutional amendment. The measure, upon voter approval, would legalize medical marijuana. Specifically, the measure would guarantee the following:

• That medical use of marijuana by a qualifying patient or personal caregiver is not subject to criminal or civil liability or sanctions under state law.

• That a licensed physician is not subject to criminal or civil liability or sanctions for issuing medical marijuana to a person diagnosed with a "debilitating medical condition" under state law.

• That registered medical marijuana treatment centers are not subject to criminal or civil liability or sanctions under state law.

The measure defines a "debilitating medical condition" as cancer, multiple sclerosis, glaucoma, hepatitis C, HIV, AIDS, ALS, Crohn's disease, Parkinson's disease "or other conditions for which a physician believes that the medical use of marijuana would likely outweigh the potential health risks for a patient."
The Florida Department of Health would be responsible for regulating medical marijuana. The department would issue and regulate patient identification cards and personal caregiver identification cards, develop procedures related to medical marijuana treatment centers and institute regulations defining reasonable amounts of marijuana for medical use. The department would be required to protect the confidentiality of all patients.
The constitutional amendment contains six limitations on how the amendment's language can be construed:

• The amendment does not “affect laws relating to non-medical use, possession, production or sale of marijuana.”

• The amendment does not authorize “the use of medical marijuana by anyone other than a qualifying patient.”

• The amendment does not allow for the “operation of a motor vehicle, boat, or aircraft while under the influence of marijuana.”

• The amendment does not require accommodations for medical marijuana use “in any place of education or employment, or of smoking medical marijuana in any \public place.”

• The amendment does not require “any health insurance provider or any government agency or authority to reimburse any person for expenses related to the medical use of marijuana.”

• The amendment does not require “the violation of federal law or purports to give immunity under federal law.”

Supporters of Amendment 2 say the measure will help people with debilitating medical conditions. Opponents, on the other hand, argue the amendment is “de facto legalization" of marijuana.
For a referred amendment to win in Florida, it must win a supermajority vote of 60 percent of those voting on the question, according to Section 5 of Article XI. This change was made via Amendment 3 in 2006." - Ballotpedia.org

It all sounds pretty reasonable. A plant exists that can be processed and used to ease the suffering of people in pain. I'm pretty sure I can vote for that with a clear conscience. But every time I feel that way, the marijuana proponents start talking...

"It's better than booze or tobacco. In fact, it's actually good for you. It cures cancer and all other diseases. Plus you can use it to make rope and paper. Just think of all the jobs that will be created. Legalizing it would save the entire US economy!"

Shut up, stoners. Shut up. Shut your stupid mouths. You and your unbridled enthusiasm for your stupid hobby. Fuck you and James Franco and Seth Rogan and your terrible movies that can only be appreciated by people who are stoned and giggling like lunatics every time somebody mentions "munchies" or the number "420" is referenced, regardless of context. You don't care about making rope or paper and you don't give a shit about sick people. You're desensitized to mom and dad giving you a hard time about the non-addictive habit you started in junior high school and now that you're 35 or older, you just don't want to get in trouble for it and you see this issue as your golden ticket. Save it or at least admit the truth.
Seriously, I hate those people. And it's not even an insult to call them stupid. They like being stupid. They strive for it. Their fondest memories are of the times when the stupidest things happen. These are people who are happiest when they can use the phrase "fucked up" to describe themselves. Who else does that? We don't look at somebody who works hard and takes care of their family and say, "wow, she is profoundly fucked up!" We don't walk into a barber shop and say, "go ahead and fuck up how my head looks." We don't sit back after a satisfying meal, pat our stomachs and say, "Mm-mm! Now that was fucked up!" Stoners, though, are all about getting fucked up and being fucked up to the extent that it's basically all they talk about.
Let me be clear; I'm not talking about everybody who smokes marijuana. Hell, at this point, it's such a mainstream thing that by sheer popularity, it probably should just be legal across the board. In which case, who gives a damn? As long as you're not hurting other people, I believe you have the right to do your thing. No, I'm talking about the in-your-face evangelical types, with their t-shirts and bumper stickers, who are as disingenuous and dishonest as their fear-mongering opponents (by the way, I don't believe a word of their nonsense either). Those people should go smoke themselves.

Like, say, this clown.

I guess the bottom line is that I so strongly dislike those people that I really don't want to do anything that makes them happy. That means I'm probably going to vote Yes but I don't feel entirely great about it. I have a feeling that sentiment is going to pop up in a lot of elections over the next couple of years.

Happy Halloween, 2014

Ah, tradition!
There's nothing quite like the annual celebration of long-established rites and customs. Largely because it doesn't require a lot of original thought, and therefor, not a lot of work.
Now that's something that deserves to be celebrated!
In other words, it's time once again for the re-cycling of the only real, traditionally-formatted joke joke I've ever written, which is only appropriate during the Halloween season, which is to say THIS ONE JOKE RIGHT HERE!

Knock knock

Who's there?

Ow

Ow who?

Werewolves Of London

Happy Halloween!

I love Craigslist

I love Craigslist, the seedy, debauchery-soaked flea market of the internet. For every creepy, awkward, inappropriate, potentially horrifying and probably illegal post you find, there are, well, dozens more exactly the same if not worse. It's like whatever the next thing is after pornography in terms of being less socially redeemable, that's what Craigslist is. It's wildly entertaining for virtually no good reason whatsoever. Every so often, right-minded people will make an attempt to clean it up and make it a more decent and reasonable resource for people. Poor misguided do-gooders. Craigslist is, was and always will be a haven for whores and degenerates of all kinds to peddle their perverted wares.
Thank goodness!
I've been enjoying it for some time. I don't go on as often as I used to but still check it out from time to time. Like last week, when a co-worker was talking about going up to Auburn, where he went to college, to watch a football game between the Auburn Tigers and the University of South Carolina Gamecocks, but he was concerned that he had no place to stay. Craigslist to the rescue! I quickly posted this ad on his behalf...

Can I stay with you, my friend? (Auburn) Hi. My name is Hayden and I need friends for two days. I'm coming to Auburn for the big football game against the Cocks taking place somewhere between the 24th and 25th of October and I'm looking for a place to stay. I prefer to stay with friends so we would need to establish that relationship first (there isn't much time between now and then so, chop chop!). Here are some of the things I like: Golf. Showers. Dogs. Salad dressing enthusiast. Auburn football against the Cocks. I hate breakfast. After the game we will each go our separate ways and never speak to one another again so it's no big deal if we're not completely eye-to-eye on some of this stuff. Let's do this, pals!

No replies, but who cares? Fun!

Last week, a friend and fellow Craigslist devotee shared this beauty from Chattanooga with me...

LET'S FUCKING FRISBEE (anywhere in the Noog) No frisbee golf, no ultimate. Don't care what race or gender you are. Not trying to jack off or fuck anyone. All I wanna do is toss a goddamned frisbee at you, and you throw it back. I don't care if you're any good. Let's just try this shit. Yes, I am awesome at frisbee throwing and catching (especially for a man of my portly stature), but don't let that intimidate you. Embrace my awesome. Have a drink from my flask. Let's do this shit.

Yes. If you are in the Noog, you should definitely do that shit.

Craigslist; It never, ever gets old.

Subpar heroes

Someone posted this picture on Facebook the other day...

It's obviously a panel from some deservedly long-forgotten comic book, featuring the introduction of five of the least inspiring "heroes" ever. In the comments, someone asked what each of their super powers are. Personally, I have no idea. I'd never seen this before. Things like that don't stop me from answering questions, though. So here's what I think:

• Halfaman = possesses half of all the abilities of any normal man. 
• Monkeyman = Kind of like a monkey. 
• Pigman = Perceived as slovenly yet actually quite clean. 
• Pizzaman = Delicious. 
• Frogman = Has a watertight ass.

There you go.

Time to take a T.R.I.P. with Monica!

Once again, it's been a while since we've presented The Ridiculously Inconsistent Podcast (or T.R.I.P.). But we're breaking that fast today with an interview of local radio (Tampa Bay) legend Monica! That's Monica! with a !, not Monica the !-less pop star. The Monica! we talked to will share her insights on sports fandom, working in the wonderful world of radio and being Mexican.
Enjoy!

Convenience store of the damned

The other night, I had the misfortune of stopping at the Gowers Corner Citgo station  at 18901 Hwy 52 in Land O' Lakes.
I parked next to a tow truck with two teenagers inside who stopped making out long enough to glare at me as I made my way into the store.
Many convenience stores are managed well and lovingly maintained. Clean, well-lit, plenty of quality merchandise displayed in an attractive manner. This place has none of that going for it. Dark, musty and generally picked-over, it looks like the kind of place where Hepatitis would shop if it were a person.
I realize this is a pretty uneventful story but this part is where something interesting happened...
I got the beer and got in line, waiting to be served by the clerk whose nametag identified him as "Jerry".

Yeah, okay.

That isn't actually a picture of "Jerry" but you get the idea. Anyway, I was next in line when this skinny, skeevy, dusty old redneck guy suddenly cut in front of me, handed "Jerry" a $20 and asked for quick-pick lotto tickets.

Also not the actual guy but again, you get the general idea.

I was somewhat annoyed but didn't make a big deal about it, planning to just pay for the beer and get out of there before accidentally cutting myself on something. But as he collected his tickets and left, he turned to me and went, "Heh heh heh."
For some reason, this completely threw me and I didn't know how to react. "Heh heh heh". Who outside of a comic book actually says that? Like he had gotten away with some fiendishly clever scheme. Way to beat the system, pal. Congratulations, dark genius. You win today's game of Convenience Store. I sincerely hope that one of those lottery tickets is the grand prize winner, only because I want to see his reaction. I can totally visualize him hitchhiking to Tallahassee to collect an oversize check from the governor, turning to the crowd and cackling, "heh heh heh" before slinking away on tiptoes, returning to Land O' Lakes where he'll cash the check at the Citgo station and buy more lottery tickets.

I guess my message here is Never shop at the Gowers Corner Citgo station  at 18901 Hwy 52 in Land O' Lakes.

Garage sale people are out of their minds

My friend Ronny is moving soon and he decided to get rid of some stuff with a good ol' fashioned garage sale. I wanted to support my friend and Ronny is a musician who has had a long and very interesting career, so I attended with the intention of getting some cool stuff and maybe snapping some photos of even cooler stuff that might have been out of my budget. Specifically, I anticipated being able to look at some very cool guitars. I got there just after 9AM, the scheduled start time. There was very little on display on the tables outside and I thought that he really wasn't getting rid of all that much. I saw him and told him I wanted to take the guitar tour and he said they were basically all gone. "Yeah, they pretty much cleaned me out at 7:30". I had made the crucial mistake of forgetting that garage sale people are out of their minds.

I had a garage sale once, when I lived in Sarasota. I remember that people showed up hours before the advertised start time. I remember people passing on what I thought was good stuff and instead snatching up the things I figured I would end up throwing away. I also remember that they paid no attention whatsoever to the price tags or even a price quote.

GARAGE SALE GUY: How much are these?
ME: They're a quarter each.
GARAGE SALE GUY: How much really?
ME: A quarter.
GARAGE SALE GUY: Yeah, but how much will you actually take for them?
ME: Only because I want to see where you're going with this, how much are you offering?
GARAGE SALE GUY: I'll give you a dime each.
ME: That's crazy. I don't even have anything smaller than quarters here to make change.
GARAGE SALE GUY: All right, but you have to throw some in for free.

I didn't sell him anything and he wasn't even insulted. Just shrugged his shoulders and left. Onward to the next sale, I presume. He didn't want what I was selling (these were books, by the way), he just wanted a deal beyond the considerable bargain already being offered. He wanted to negotiate as a form of recreational competition. "I didn't just buy these books, I beat somebody out of them!" That's because he was a crazy person, like most garage sale people.
I think beyond feeding that level of psychosis, the other thing that people find appealing about garage sales is the opportunity to judge people based on their stuff and feel superior to them. You get to walk around and scrutinize people and the way they lead their lives based on what they set out for sale. "Look at that! Who in the world would ever buy that in the first place? God only knows what they're keeping!". Think about it: we don't really get a lot of legal opportunities to look inside of people's houses. And sure, you can make fun of stuff you might see at Target but that stuff doesn't belong to anyone yet. It's just waiting to be picked up by someone displaying bad taste or making a poor decision. That's not nearly as much fun. You want to see the tacky item juxtaposed with the individual who cared enough about it at some point to have spent heard-earned money on it so you can form an opinion of what a laughably sorry person they are.

Of course those assholes were there at 7:30 in the morning. As a result, I didn't get to see any cool guitars or even most of the stuff that Ronny had for sale. I did score this sweet poster from a show he did that happened to be on my birthday...

Also, I bought two books and a microphone stand (note: I do not own a microphone).

That, plus a very sweet lady recognized me as the writer of this thing we call a blog and said several nice things about me to me. I love it when that happens!

Stranger in the night

This happened to me last Friday night...

It was 3:47AM (Okay, technically Saturday morning) and I was at home, sleeping, like a good boy. I woke up suddenly and unpleasantly when I saw headlights shining through my bedroom window. I thought somebody was lost and was turning around in my driveway. I was half-right. Some (presumably inebriated) boob started pounding on my door and yelling, "WHERE'S BONNIE?". How annoying. This is the kind of thing that would not have been uncommon when I lived in the shittiest apartment complex in Tampa but I've grown accustomed to not having to put up with it over the past year.
I went to the door, cowering to the side of it, because, yeah, I'm a big guy but I live in Florida and I know how bullets work. I yelled, "What do you want?", even though I knew what he wanted, I just wanted to hear him yell, "WHERE'S BONNIE?" one more time.

"WHERE'S BONNIE?"
"There's nobody named Bonnie here. You're at the wrong house."
"LIAR! I KNOW SHE'S HERE. I FOLLOWED HER HERE."
"Do you see Bonnie's car in the driveway?"
(silence for a couple of minutes...followed by the sound of his car backing out of the driveway.)

I just thought it was a good idea to give him some additional data he had not previously considered in arriving at his otherwise perfectly sound theory regarding how Bonnie had come to take up at least temporary residence at my house. An alternative viewpoint on the matter based on the fact that he was an idiot, if you will. I also think it's a good for you, Bonnie, if you're out there, to keep moving. Somebody willing to bang on a stranger's door and scream your name at four in the morning probably doesn't have good intentions.

Well, apparently we (in Florida) are doomed.

CRIST: "Are we really gonna debate about a fan, or are we gonna talk about education and the environment and the future of our state? It's just a fan, folks! (chuckles) No big deal!"
(Crowd whoops and cheers)
SCOTT: (from behind the curtain) "If it's no big deal, why don't you remove it?"
CRIST: "Maybe I don't wanna remove it."
SCOTT: "Well, maybe you have to because the rules say you can't have any electrics down there."
CRIST: "This is the only electrics I got. One fan."
SCOTT: "You say that, but how do I...more importantly, how do the voters know that's true?"
(Crowd whoops and cheers)
CRIST: "There's a camera right there. It can totally see what's behind my podium. There's one behind yours too. Technically, that's electric too. I suppose you want to remove all the cameras? Typical!"
SCOTT: "That's great for the people watching on live television, but we both know that nobody is watching this on live television. Also, cameras are not technically electric because nobody really knows how they work."
CRIST: "Both of those two things are true. I'll give you that."
SCOTT: "I mean, how do I know you don't have a George Foreman Grill under there and that I won't be making some kind of point on economics or something and you won't reach down and pull out some hot, crisp, delicious bacon and just start snacking on it while I'm talking?"
CRIST: "That'd be okay because I'm not aware of the rules of the debate saying I can't have one of those too. I mean they might say that. They might specifically state in bold print "NO GEORGE FOREMAN GRILLS UNDER THE PODIUMS". The point is that I'm not aware of it."
SCOTT: "What if I want some bacon during the debate?"
CRIST: "Do you honestly believe that I wouldn't share my bacon with you if you asked me nicely for some?"
SCOTT: "I really don't know. You have a fan and I don't. It seems like you only think about yourself. Plus, I've seen those grills and they aren't all that big. You might not be able to even make enough to share."
CRIST: "Dude, I can make another batch in like, less than five minutes."
SCOTT: "Seriously?"
CRIST: "Oh yeah! I brought soooo much bacon with me tonight. Have you ever seen one of these babies work?"
SCOTT: "Actually, no."
CRIST: "Come over here and check it out. These things are pretty amazing!"
SCOTT: "Hell yeah! I'll be right out!"
CRIST: "Don't touch my fan."

Let Subway help you whore it up, ladies

Halloween is coming and Subway wants you ladies to not ruin things for everyone by not wearing the skimpiest, sluttiest costumes possible. So stop being such a fat cow (aka, normal-sized human woman person) and start pounding those foot-longs. Because it's important to eat well if you expect to showcase the goods in something satin-ish and fishnetty, rather than the clothes you normally wear when we objectify you.

"This Life should be awesome"

Behold Alyssa Schoenberg...
She's perky.
She wears a Superman cape.
She eats spinach by the fistful (literally).
She's REALLY perky.
She speaks in simple terms that I can easily understand.
She has some skewed views of who Iron Man is, but that's all right.
She might be my new favorite.

Then there's THIS waste of space

Even though I've mellowed, even though I make a concerted effort not to judge others, even though I have worked very hard to control my temper in situations where I have no control, there will always be a reason why it's impossible for me to achieve a state of true peace. Like this...

On behalf of those of us who don't feel entitled to free shit every time something doesn't go our way, who don't have time to get upset about goddamned candles or how unfair it is to live in a world with stores where employees don't occasionally make an honest mistake (or, for that matter, those of us who know you don't watch videos on a camera), please do us all a huge favor and jump feet-first into a nearby sausage grinder.

Honestly, if I won the Powerball, I'd go to Wisconsin, visit every Bath and Body Works in the state, buy every single candle they have (at retail, so the staff all get nice bonuses) and make you watch me dump every one of them into Lake Michigan.

Stop being horrible, you great, gaping void, you worthless, omni-repulsive, yawning deficit of a human being.

Also, fuck you and your fucking air quotes.



PS: The Packers blow.