An Open Letter from The Fedora

Dear Douchebag/Female Swamp Donkey,

As I sit here soaked in spray-on tan sweat and cheap booze I ask you, why did you do this to me? What did I do to deserve such a fall from grace?

I’ve lived a long, happy and respected life until now.  I’ve been around long before you purchased me at that Lidz store in some New Jersey mall and I will be around long after your tan fades, your roids wear off and your botox needs refilling. 

I used to actually be cool.  People looked at me with admiration.  I’m not talking about what YOU think is cool.  I’m not talking about hiding your receding hairline while you use me to accessorize your Ed Hardy shirt and drink bottle service you can’t afford with women who don’t really like you. I’m talking about classic cool.  Indiana Jones wore one of my ancestors.  My great grandfather was tossed, flipped and theatrically placed by Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, during his biggest moments.  I come from a lineage of greatness.  The blantant disrespect I am getting from you is mind boggling.

How dare you pick me up and put me on your head?  You wearing me is the equivalent of pedophile moving into the neighborhood.  My value immediately plummets.  In my early years my sheer presence used to be a sign of elegance and grace (and no those are not the names of the two strippers who were wearing me at the beach yesterday).  Gene Kelly wore a relative of mine in “Singing In The Rain” while Humphry Bogart made me famous in “Casablanca”.  Do you even know what that is? And don’t tell me you don’t speak Spanish. 

Do you think when Tom Landry wore me on the Dallas Cowboy’s sideline that he wanted to wear the same headware as a bachelorette party in Scottsdale?  I think not.  I didn’t see him drinking out of any penis- shaped straws.  I was a part of America’s team and now I’m showing up at Dairy Queen?  The Vegas scene I remember was Sinatra and The Rat Pack.  Now you people think it’s ok to put me on every girl pool side with tattoo on her back?  Well it’s not. 

From here on out, I beg you.  I plead with you.  If you see me in a store, a mall or anywhere else, resist the urge to buy me and wear me.  Put me down, let me rest in peace.  You’ve already taken my dignity.  Go back to wearing Von Dutch, they need the business.

Sincerely,

The Fedora

Lies, Damn Lies, and Record Breaking Statistics

Posted By EC

Tie a ribbon ‘round the old oak tree! After 8 years, the US Government finally got its man. “Holy shit! We got Osama?!?!” you ask? Settle down, person with your priorities in order. This is baseball we’re talking about! Barry Bonds, the scourge of baseball, responsible for a thousand 9/11s worth of crimes against baseball and therefore America, has finally been convicted of obstruction of justice in the 2003 BALCO case. Hooray! Baseball is saved! Now the children only have unimpeachable role models which to look up to! Thanks for focusing on our priorities US government!

As a Giants fan myself, I watched and cheered as many of those baseballs left Pac Bell/SBC/ AT&T park courtesy of Mr. Bonds’ constantly expanding arms and dome. Was I wrong? Fuck no. Baseball was fun back then. Was it a cartoon or a real life simulation of Nintendo’s Baseball Stars? Yes. Was that awesome? Yessir.

Some will say that the government’s prosecution of Bonds is a failure because they failed to get a guilty verdict on the 3 perjury counts, especially in light of the amount of time (8 years) and money (estimates have it in the tens of millions of dollars) spent on this case to essentially find out if a guy lied about cheating to hit a ball over a fence more times than another guy. I say that’s not the case. This is the same government that builds bridges to nowhere, takes months to balance budgets, oh, and Osama is still on the loose. Wasting time and money ain’t nothing new to our government.

If we’ve learned anything from this show trial, it’s that no matter what, you cannot lie to the government, EVER. They take that shit real personally. They could give a fuck about the people responsible for your underwater mortgage and plundered 401(k), but lie to them about something you did, about something doesn’t really matter, that happened almost a decade ago?

You sir, are fucked.

Hey! We Want Some…Poooolitics?!

Yeah, that’s not the “P” word I thought of either when I think of Too Live Crew, but guess what? Luther Campbell wants to be the next Mayor of Miami.  And yes, that’s him in the picture above with some of his constituents.  I don’t know about you, but if Uncle Luke becomes mayor of Miami, I’m flying in for the inauguration.  That will be the best party EVER.

Uncle Luke wants to see transparency in local politics and feels as though too much happens behind closed doors. He even proposes that every day be a “reality show”.  I for one, believe him.  Uncle Luke has never been one to do things behind closed doors. In fact, during one of his Too Live Crew concerts he even let the entire crowd watch him get a blowjob.  Now THAT’s transparency.

This is a man who is not afraid to take a stance that might even affect his own wallet. One of the biggest platforms is a “Stripper Tax” imposed upon all purveyors of strip clubs in the greater Miami area.  Based on his lifestyle, Uncle Luke would be hit the hardest of anyone, but he’s out for the greater good.

Do you want to be a part of history?  Do you want Luther Campbell running Miami? I do. 

To support Uncle Luke, go to www.Luke4Mayor.com and make a donation.  I did.

A Tradition…Unlike Any Other

They say The Masters is a “tradition unlike any other”…and I have to agree because I can’t think of another tradition that I could care about any less.   

I say this knowing full well that I may be struck by lightning by whatever higher power the entire golf world worships on this first weekend in April every year, but I’m willing to take my chances.  

Every year I watch grown men that I otherwise respect, glue themselves to televisions for an entire weekend trying to predict a winner like a bunch of sorority girls watching the Oscars.  And that’s not to insult the Oscars.  Winning an Oscar means you’ve reached a summit.  It is the ultimate award much like winning the Super Bowl, World Series, NBA Championship or beating Mike Tyson in Mike Tyson’s Punchout (don’t act like you didn’t want to pop champagne when you figured out how to do that).

Winning The Masters doesn’t do anything more for a golfer than if he wins the British Open, PGA Championship, or the US Open.  There are four championships in golf and this is just one of them.  Well, sort of.  

What makes The Masters different? Let’s break it down.

Location

The Masters is the only Major tournament to be played in the same place every year, Augusta National, which resides in Augusta, GA.  For those of you who have not been there it is as if someone dropped a regal country club right in the middle of downtown Newark, NJ.  People who’ve never been call NJ the “armpit of America”.  If that’s true, Augusta is definitely America’s anus.  If you didn’t know exactly where you are going, you’d definitely think someone pulled a joke on you and sent you to the wrong town.

Tradition

Every TV commercial leading up to The Masters boasts a tremendous and historic tradition.  This is completely accurate, there is a tremendous tradition, like the first 67 years in existence (until 1990), there were no non-white or female members.  Not even the hometown hero James Brown (yup he’s from Augusta) is a member.  Not sure I’m gonna hear Jim Nantz discussing that one at Amen corner.   Check out the video…the only non-white guys I saw on the course were the maintenance guys.  i wish I could have seen the look on Board of Directors at Augusta National when Tiger Woods won the thing.  Now THAT would have been priceless.

Prize

What do you get if you win The Masters?  Not much different from other majors other than a green jacket and an invite to come back and play again.  Win the Masters and you now share fashion with The Lucky Charms Leprechaun and The Notre Dame mascot.  Seems less than magical to me.

Announcers

Don’t get me wrong, I think Jim Nantz has the voice of an angel and If I could afford it, I would have he and Vin Scully alternate reading me bedtime stories as I drift off to sleep every night, but that still does not excuse the madness behind people’s affinity for The Masters.  God forbid Gus Johnson were allowed to do The Masters…would they let him on the course?  

Let’s get this weekend over with so we can go back to caring about things that matter, like the WNBA.

What does that Tattoo mean?

It’s Wednesday and I am left alone with my own thoughts.  For those who know me, you know how dangerous that can be.  As my brain wandered through the aisles of CostCo, an attractive woman walked right past me, brushed her hair back and revealed…you guessed it…a tattoo on the back of her neck.  Stop it. I’m giving you way too much credit. You didn’t guess that.

This location has always confused me (not CostCo, the tattoo; stay with me).  I’d like to think I can at least make an intelligent hypothesis as to why people get tattoos, but I drew a blank.  Was it a Chinese character meant to translate into “strength” (but literal translation means”easy”)?  What was it? I missed it.  It was gone.  If I could barely see it, even if right next to her, what was the point? Unless she has a 360 degree mirror in her room (and if she does, I’d like to be invited over) I know even SHE couldn’t see it.  I truly don’t know why anyone would get a tattoo of something that no one, including the wearer, could ever see.

With that in mind, I’ve come up with a brief guide of the tatts I DO know, for those of you who wonder “what does that tattoo mean?”  I’m sure I will offend some people but like I said before, if you know me, this won’t be the first or last time.  

Small of the Back (Female) - Known to many as the “tramp stamp” or “the target”, many women claim this ink was from a time in their life where they wanted to be “expressive”…and by “expressive” she really means “express my love for men”. Many men.  Men view these tatts as directional categorization, much like the Dewey Decimal system aids librarians.  Wondering what those categories are? They are…”likely to sleep with me”, “very likely to sleep with me” and “likely to have hepatitis”. 

Small of the Back (Male) - If you see a guy with a tatt on his lower back, he likes other guys.  There is nothing wrong with that, it’s just simple life fact.  The sun will rise and that dude likes dudes.  If he insists he doesn’t, tells a story of the meaning behind the ink, or says he was drunk when he got it, he’s now lied to two people.  You and himself.

Barbed Wire Bicep  (Male) - This guy loved the 90’s.  He probably loved the Bash Brothers and did tons of curls. He might have even cycled in a few rounds of ‘roids. He got the barbed wire around his bicep so that everyone would know to “stay back”, and clearly so he could keep these “weapons of mass destruction” safe from the world.  

Notice how all of these are past tense?  Nowadays this guy is playing competitive men’s league softball (I know this because I’m out there playing against him) and trying to recapture the perceived awesomeness of his youth.  His testicles are the size of snow peas, but he still has that sick lifted Ford F150 with the Fox Racing sticker on it.   

Barbed Wire Bicep (Female) - This woman loved the 90’s.  She loved smoking cigarettes, drinking Budweiser (who didn’t love Spuds Mackensie?) and of course hanging out with Barbed Wire Bicep guy.  She likely had huge fake breasts, bleach blonde hair and a love for acrylic nails with french tips.  You could sleep with this woman with one of two phrases:  ”Wow, you know who you remind me of? You really look just like Pamela Anderson” or “I’ve got a sick lifted pickup truck with a Fox Racing sticker”. Ironically this also worked on the real Pamela Anderson.

Ankle (Female) - Reading this girl is a tricky one. Is she proud of the ink? Does she display it often?  If so, this is likely not her first rodeo (or tattoo) and this is one of many.

On to the next girl.  Study this next specimen carefully.  Does she hide it and sometimes you catch a glimpse of the tatt?  Is it a butterfly, dolphin, or other friendly animal?  Maybe a zodiac symbol?  While you shake your head yes to the last three questions, we’re gonna go ahead and assume she didn’t murder all those people in San Francisco.  This girl got this ink at age 18 or younger likely on a spring break trip to Cancun.  Check her high school friends out and they all likely have one too.  It seemed like an incredible idea at the time to commemorate “the best spring break ever” with her “best friends ever” while drowing themselves in tequila and college guys.  When she sobered up and headed home, she realized Mom and Dad wouldn’t share the same affinity for Flipper so she had to wear jeans and sneakers and sweat it out all summer.

Eventually Mom and Dad found out, there was some yelling with the words “unladylike” and “responsibility” thrown around, and her self esteem fell through the floor.  Fast forward to adulthood and while she does everything she can to hide her Gemini sign from the other soccer moms, when the mood strikes, she presses down the peddle on her Toyota Siena, and remembers that night in Cancun where it was the “best spring break ever”.

Ankle (Male) - C’mon. See “Small of the Back (Male)”.    

Face Tatt (Male/Female) - You just met Mike Tyson or Gucci Mane, so that’s pretty cool I guess.

Will Ferrell’s Truman Show Moment?

If I were to tell you that Will Ferrell was in a movie with Biggie’s son, you’d probably start laughing right away without even knowing the premise.  But wait… watch this trailer.  Ferrell looks to play a decidedly serious role. 

Jim Carrey crossed over from slapstick comedy when he did The Truman Show and it looks like Will Ferrell is doing the same.  This could be a great flick…stay tuned.

Jamba Juice & eBay? Don’t Drunk Dial. Don’t Do it.

Opening Day - Everybody wins

No matter what team your root for, if you like baseball or you just like going to the games, today is a good day.

Here in SF, it’s 75 degrees, but no matter where you are, if you watch and listen to these two videos, you can feel like you are at the ballpark enjoying a cold one no matter where you are.

Talkin’ Baseball (Willie, Mickey, and the Duke) @ Yahoo! Video

Ashkon is on his 16th minute of Fame

If any of you were in or around San Francisco last year when the Giants went on an improbable run to win the World Series, you heard Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’ on repeat (and somehow it didn’t get old and I’m even a Dodger fan). 

Amidst all the Fear the Beard t-shirts a guy named Ashkon re-mixed and re-lyric’d (yes I just made up a word) the ballad in such a way that it became the anthem of the 2010 San Francisco Giants.  Fans LOVED it.  It played in every bar and club across the city, the Giants went on to win the World Series and Ashkon was invited to join the victory the parade.  It didn’t stop there.  Overnight, Ashkon had become somewhat of a local celebrity with his name linked to charity events and performances around the Bay Area.  All was good, the season was over and he’d written himself into Giants history.  Lightning had literally been caught in a bottle.

Fast Forward to March 25, Giants spring training, where not-so-innocent bystander Buster Posey (can barely keep a straight face) is playing a game of Spades in the locker room with a teammate.  In comes Ashkon.  He sets up a boom box, turns it on and proceeds to introduce a “new Giants rap” while he is virtually ignored.  Aubrey Huff (clearly the ring leader) is definitely in on the joke.  In the background you can see #43 (Alex Hinshaw) look over in full confusion.

The one guy who is clearly not in on the joke? Ashkon. 

Customer Service - 1970’s Style

In today’s world, customer service is about as important as anything to any company’s success.  Consumer rights have reached an all time high, with companies uber sensitive to customer happiness.  The expectation now is that people not only want resolution, but compensation for even the smallest transgression.  In short, we live in a consumer driven world.  

On the other side of the fence if you have ever worked in a customer facing role (or you do now), you know there are times when the old adage “the customer is always right” makes you want to punch a hole though the nearest wall or tell them simply to “Go F*** Yourself”, but you can’t because a bad experience can lead a person to blog, review, Tweet or Facebook their complaint, spreading it to the masses in mere seconds. 

Frivolous complaints are nothing new, check out this letter written by Dale O. Cox (great name) who worries about the health and safety risks of paper airplanes being thrown at Cleveland Browns games circa 1974.

If this letter was written in today’s world, Dale would have probably gotten a free Brown’s hat and an apology.  But it was written in 1974.  No internet, no mass communication systems and frankly, little or no recourse. 

Dale did in fact get a response from the Browns General Counsel, James Bailey and it even had Browns owner Art Modell on the cc. Enjoy.