I’m going to just go ahead and deflect the inevitable “American Pastime” jokes by pointing out that Matt Stairs is Canadian.

Feel free to commence with the “City of Brotherly Love” jokes.

Angel = Good. Babydoll = Good. Cockpit = Bad. Peach Pit = Neutral. Sugartits = Good(!) Milkjuggs = Bad. NaughtySchoolgirlWhoTotallyLooksUnderageButIsn’t = Neutral. Hairy Girl = Good. Thatch = Bad. Belly = Bad. Poo = Bad. Pooh = Good. Thank you consistency. Smart Ass = Bad. Dumb Ass = Bad. Ass = Bad.

All for science.

Two men wheeled a dead man through the streets in an office chair to a check-cashing store and tried to cash his Social Security check before being arrested on fraud charges, police said.

David J. Dalaia and [...]]]> If I were given two guesses as to where this happened, I would have gotten it on the second guess.

Two men wheeled a dead man through the streets in an office chair to a check-cashing store and tried to cash his Social Security check before being arrested on fraud charges, police said.

David J. Dalaia and James O’Hare pushed Virgilio Cintron’s body from the Manhattan apartment that O’Hare and Cintron shared to Pay-O-Matic, about a block away, spokesman Paul Browne said witnesses told police.

“The witnesses saw the two pushing the chair with Cintron flopping from side to side and the two individuals propping him up and keeping him from flopping from side to side,” Browne said.

Ok, so far, this seems reasonable enough.

The men left Cintron’s body outside the store, went inside and tried to cash his $355 check, Browne said. The store’s clerk, who knew Cintron, asked the men where he was, and O’Hare told the clerk they would go and get him, Browne said.

Still seems pretty straightfo… wait, what? $355 bucks? Uh, why not go to a different freakin’ store?

A police detective who was having lunch at a restaurant next to the check-cashing store noticed a crowd forming around Cintron’s body, and “it’s immediately apparent to him that Cintron is dead,” Browne said.

Here’s where you can tell it’s New York. The detective probably finished his lunch before he went out there.

I’ve got about 900,000 Weekend at Bernie’s jokes, as well as several about Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman being available for the TV movie. Because I can’t really settle on one, I’m going to open this one up to the floor. Who’s got the best joke?

Now I won’t discuss whether or not it’s worth it for the organization to spend $48 million on a dinged-up outfielder from Japan. Instead, let’s get into his name. It’s [...]]]> If Harry Caray were alive today, this would both delight and horrify him. That’s right, my beloved Cubs have signed Kosuke Fukudome.

Now I won’t discuss whether or not it’s worth it for the organization to spend $48 million on a dinged-up outfielder from Japan. Instead, let’s get into his name. It’s actually pronounced Foo Koo Doe May, but if you think that would have stopped Harry, you clearly had better things to do with your time growing up than I did. At least once a game, we would have been drunkenly informed that Go Sucky Fuck You Do Me is now batting. If Fukudome were to jerk a backdoor slider into the rightfield bleachers for a walk-off home run, we could have seen the Unintentional Comedy perfect storm.

Alas, Harry’s dead, and Fukudome will likely wind up having an elbow ligament replaced before the All Star break. Real life sucks; more Harry.

This all very nearly changed when [...]]]> When I was a kid, I really liked fire. Ok, I still do, but as far as the cops are concerned, I never said that. What’s germane to the topic at hand is that I once really liked fire. For the most part, we got along famously.

This all very nearly changed when I was in 7th grade. My sister and I were unsupervised, as usual. Note that I’m not bitter about this; it was an ideal situation for me. Had the internet been readily available to me at that time, I might have learned what a clit was in a more timely manner. Sorry Cathy.

On this day I was experimenting with the innards of a Roman Candle. Salvador was there doing his usual report card victory tour, which involved staying at friends’ houses until his dad was no longer so pissed that he’d beat the hell out of him. He was fortunate enough to witness the lunacy. I had disassembled the Roman Candle and had placed one of its donut-shaped powder charges into a pot. The pot was then covered and placed on a gas stove burner on high. We were sitting at the kitchen table to observe the proceedings from a “safe” distance.

The thing is, nothing happened. After about 15 minutes (ok, 3), we gingerly made our way to the stove and turned it off. Safety first. 10 minutes (ok, 3) of cooling later, we figured it was safe to look. Again we shuffled over to the pot, and very slowly lifted the lid. Have you ever seen Backdraft? It was like that, minus the flames. The air rushed into the pot and ignited the powder. This resulted in a very loud explosion 2 feet from our heads. My hearing was barely saved by the fact that I was staring into the pot. My eyes were saved by the lack of pyrotechnics.

Having been blown back to the table, we shook out the cobwebs and began the cleanup. The pot had a black char mark on the bottom. It had somehow escaped dent-free. In fact, Mom still uses that pot today, and it still has the mark. It was in the sink when Mom walked in, half full of bleach:

Mom: What was that?
Me(dazed): Nothing.
Mom: The big booming noise. In the kitchen.
Me: Didn’t hear it.
Mom: Is it safe to assume that it won’t happen again?
Me: Yep.
Mom: Good.

It turns out that she had been sitting in her boyfriend’s truck in front of the house when the explosion took place. I think she was happier not knowing what I’d done, allowing her the fantasy that I wasn’t a complete dumbass. She knows now.

– Mitch Hedberg

Rice is awesome. Seriously, I like it. Definitely a fan. And in three brief sentences, I’ve said all I’ve really got to say about it. So go check this out. It’s addictive, somewhere between Laffy [...]]]> I like rice. Rice is great if you’re hungry and want 2000 of something.

– Mitch Hedberg

Rice is awesome. Seriously, I like it. Definitely a fan. And in three brief sentences, I’ve said all I’ve really got to say about it. So go check this out. It’s addictive, somewhere between Laffy Taffy and methadone. I’ve managed to get up vocab level 42, and have donated about 7500 grains of rice to the cause of bloating some hungry bellies.

So, uh, does anyone know if I can deduct the time I’ve spent on this?