Reason #253 That I Love Seattle

As you've probably read on various lunatic-fringe political blogs, the upcoming Senate Primary here in Washington is viewed as a barometer for the upcoming national midterm elections. Quite obviously, the Democrats are screwed, but people want to know just how screwed they are. If incumbent Democrat, Patty Murray, is unseated, it would surely signal an irreparable rift in the space-time continuum.

It's likely Murray will survive the Primary, but she will face a stiff challenge come November. Her prime adversary will probably be our state's perennial Republican also-ran, Dino Rossi. Seems Dino still hasn't recovered from his soul-crushing gubernatorial loss to Christine Gregoire in 2004, by a whopping 129 votes.

Unwilling to follow the more conventional path of heralded election loser, Al Gore (by gaining 30 pounds, growing a beard, going on a global quest to end climate change, winning an Academy Award, getting a divorce and "allegedly" molesting a masseuse), Dino reemerged from beneath his rock of despair in 2008 to challenge Gregoire to a rematch. Sadly for Dino "Two Times," Gregoire rode Barrack Obama's coattails to an easy victory.

Now that Obama's coattails couldn't carry an anorexic Smurf over a mud puddle, Dino has confidently thrown his hat into the Senate race. Perhaps Dino is a good citizen who feels a deep responsibility to lead. Or perhaps he just enjoys being beaten by women.

But Dino isn't the reason for this blog post.

No.

The reason for this blog post, and reason #253 that I love Seattle, is the true candidate of change in this Senatorial election:

This is Goodspaceguy Nelson and, yes, he is a legitimate candidate in the Senate Primary.

Who is Goodspaceguy?

"I’m just some guy who has studied economics and who advocates unsabotaging our economy so that everyone who wants to work can have a choice of jobs.
And I’m just some guy who has studied astronomy who advocates getting our orbital space colonies started. You have already paid the money, but we don’t have the starter cololnies.
And I am also a life-long student who is also advocating that we do more research in Rejuvenation Science so that you and I might stay young longer."

Sounds completely reasonable to me... in a totally fucking insane way.

The one thing that troubles me about Goodspaceguy is his lack of confidence. Why not be "Greatspaceguy?" Have we not settled for good space guys for far too long? I believe it is time for you to become the GREAT space guy we all know you can be!

I intend to find out more about this ambassador of truth, and when I do, I shall share my knowledge with the masses.

Until then... stay tuned...

Lebron James = Biggest Asshole In The World

That is all...

Belated Farewell...

Because I've been such a bad blogger over the last... oh... 3 years or so, I missed the opportunity to bid farewell to a great artist, Peter Steele. He was 48 years-old.

Peter was the bassist, lead singer and chief songwriter for one of my favorite bands, Type-O-Negative. Before that, he was in the hardcore band called Carnivore, though I'm not nearly as familiar with their music.

Type-O-Negative literally came out of nowhere for me. I still remember hearing the song "Gravitational Constant" on WMUL back in Huntington, West Virginia. I had never heard anything quite like it. It was angry, depressing, and oddly beautiful. I was immediately hooked.

The bipolar nature of Steele's songwriting struck a deep chord with me. He could be sarcastic, scatological, sexist and sultry... all in the same song! His music wasn't for everyone (and god knows their album sales reflected this fact), but it was very important to the folks who needed to hear it.

Over the years, as my psychological makeup changed, I drifted away from Type-O-Negative. This is certainly not reflective of Steele's songwriting; it remained vibrant and interesting until the very end. It's more a testament to the power and place his music occupied in my life.

As I changed, it became difficult to take the music with me. It 'belonged' to a period in my life; a period I had little interest in re-living, and even less interest in re-visiting. There was pain, anger, substance abuse, and plenty of self-destructive behavior. I was not a happy camper.

Steele seemed to understand these feelings, perhaps all too well. I guess it seems trite to say his music helped me through this turbulent period in my life, but there it is... he did. It feels disloyal somehow to have left him behind. I feel guilt and remorse, as though I lost touch with a good friend.

And now he's gone. And the kids who feel the same pain and anger I felt 20 years ago will have that much harder a time discovering his amazing music.

Peter Steele was always there for the disillusioned kids that needed him. His music let you know that you would pull through it somehow. He was right. And I thank him for that.

Ladies and Gentlemen... Mr. Gary Wright

Yeah, I love Gary Wright's key-tar playing ass, alright! Deal with it!

I guess most people prefer "Dream Weaver," but my favorite has always been "Love Is Alive."

How can you miss with two key-tars and a cowbell?!? Dig it.

You know, it's never too late to start watching Breaking Bad

A quick catch-up before you start watching the best show on television.

Game On

Though my beloved St. Louis Blues suck, as usual, I can still enjoy the Stanley Cup Finals.

For years I labored under the delusion that my favorite sports were:
1a. NFL
1b. NHL

I've come to notice something very telling, however. When I'm watching football, I find myself doing other things, as well. Hockey, on the other hand, tends to hold my complete attention.

I can only conclude that hockey has ascended to the top of my particular sports hierarchy.

And what a game it is! Speed, skill, violence, the great sound of skates slicing into ice, the zamboni... What more can you ask for?

And the best part is the pace of the game. If you have a mere 2 hours to spare, you can watch an entire hockey game. Each team gets a grand total of one timeout for the entire game. Let me reiterate that for any NBA fans reading this post: one timeout for the entire game!

I single out basketball because, in effect, hockey killed basketball for me. I was a huge hoops fan growing up. Couldn't get enough of it. After watching some hockey, however, and seeing the great pace at which the game is played, I quickly realized what an inferior product the NBA was trying to pedal. Never again would I dedicate 45 minutes to see the last 90 seconds of an "exciting" NBA game.

See, I'm very American when it comes to sports. I don't have time to spend on nonsense. Give me the game, entertain me for a couple of hours, and then go the hell away. I don't give a rat's behind if the players are shooting 'roids directly into their scrotum on the bench; just give me a few minutes of release from my miserable life, you magnificent bastards!

And while I'm bearing my ugly American soul, the world can keep their precious soccer... er, excuse me, futball. What the hell is that? Don't get it. Don't want to get it. And yeah, I've actually watched games before.

People in my home town are absolutely nuts for soccer. They pack 50000 people into the stadium for each frickin' game! As a courtesy to these people, many of whom I work alongside, I took in a couple of games...

Dear god in heaven, I've never been so bored in my entire life! It's no wonder the crowds are always chanting or dropping urine bombs on each other; they have to do something to entertain themselves!

And stop it with the whole, "They are the best athletes because they spend the whole game running." No they don't! They spend about 3/4 of the game strolling down the field, and then actually running the other 1/4 of the time. You know it's true, soccer fan. Don't even front.

Anyway, this wasn't meant to be an anti-soccer screed. This post is meant to celebrate the championship series of the greatest game in the world.

Hockey rules!

Black Death Invades Household... Film At 11

Man, I hate being sick. I mean, like, really REALLY hate being sick!

It pisses me off when my chest gets all tight and I have no lung capacity. Walking up the stairs of my townhouse this morning nearly induced a coma (no disrespect to Gary Coleman... RIP). I coughed so hard I nearly had a brain aneurysm (again, no disrespect to GC).

Mainly, I just hate drinking water. That's what everyone always tells you to do when you have a cold--drink freaking water.

"Don't get dehydrated!"
"The doctor says you need to drink water!"
"Gary Coleman didn't drink enough water and look what happened to him!"

It's like a never-ending litany.

Well guess what... I'm not going to do it. I refuse to drink water EVER AGAIN!

From this day forward, I shall drink only refreshing caffeinated beverages.

Oh, yeah, this is gonna be big.

It's like the time I went on that all red meat and cigarette diet back in college. Sure, I would occasionally cough up blood, but when you live on the edge of oblivion, you're sometimes obliged to peek into the abyss.

Boy, I'm really not feeling well. Maybe I should take my temperature. Maybe I have malaria or one of those Mexican intestinal parasites or something. Jesus!

I can't hear out of my right ear. No matter how many times I yawn or do that jaw clicking thing they always tell you to do when the airplane is landing, I can't make my ear pop. I think I'm slowly coming unhinged!

How much snot can one man produce? I mean, seriously. My wastebasket looks like a semi-liquid sea of tissues and magic nose goblins.

Luckily, my throat is still okay. It seems like every time I have the sniffles, it makes a fast break straight to my throat. No joke, I can get strep throat just from hearing Keith Richards talk!

My odds of avoiding strep have greatly increased since I discovered Halls Plus cough drops with the 'soothing' "syrup" center. I stick with the cherry flavor because, quite frankly, the other flavors make me puke. Actually, the cherry ain't so hot either, but what the hell--it works.

I think I need to take a hot shower. Maybe the steam will open my bronchial passages. Does that really work? I remember using a humidifier when I was a kid. It never did anything to help my asthmatic ass, but I found the sound soothing. If they made a humidifier that sounded like the warp core on Star Trek: The Next Generation I would never get out of bed!

Wow, I think I'm about to enter the phase where I start seeing visions. I swear to god, I think I just saw the Virgin Mary in a pile of empty cough drop wrappers! She had an angelic face, with a soft and heavenly aura surrounding it. Her voice was gentle and reassuring. She said...

"Whatta you stupid? Drink some water, you dumb ass!"