‘ELLO GUV NUH!

That was NEVER spoken ONCE in the “London” that I just came back from.

First thing first, hello! How are you? Good? I hope so. Sexy? I bet. Regular bowel movements? FINGERS CROSSED!!! I LUV YA!

Second…

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO LONDON-TOWN!

London? You’ve heard of it, right?! RIGHT?! It’s London!

It’s where all the Doctor Who’s takes place and where the Beatles were birthed and they have bad teeth and accents that make artsy girls finger themselves to death? LONDON!

Well, have you been there?

Because I was just there for a week and I’ve never heard any of you talk about the London that I experienced.

Was your London… A FUCKING HUMID RAIN FOREST OF HEAT!!!!

WAS IT?!?!?!?!?!

Apparently, Danielle and I didn’t get the memo sound out by Londoners that their city for the last week of October would be FUCKING HOT AS FUCK. Seriously, it was mid-to-high 70’s and humid and fucking sunny on HALLOWEEN in London. HALLOWEEN!!!! It’s the last day of OCTOBER!!!

Dreary, cool breezes, light rain, cloudy… that’s the London you’ve all heard of.

Not 90% humidity!!!! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, LONDON!?!?!? BE A CHAP AND TURN THE FUCKING HEAT OFF!!! I’M BOILING ALIVE IN THESE JEANS!!!

Yep.

Danielle and I go to London with suitcases full of Fall clothes — I BROUGHT A SCARF! A FUCKING SCARF! — and were met with this balmy tropical heatwave in London and I spent a week walking around a city wearing jeans with sweaty calves. MY CALVES WERE A HOLOCAUST OF SWEAT!

But I digress…

Did the London you visit have English people in it? Seems like a simple question, but think about it. Were there English people in London when you went?

Why do I ask?

BECAUSE NO ONE IS ENGLISH IN LONDON!!!

That’s a bit of an overstatement, but there are few and far between English working in any service industry job in London. Everyone at both hotels, people on the phones, people at the restaurants… people doing just about anything were not English.

Being American and being an American who only speaks English, one would think that London wouldn’t have felt like that foreign of a city because everyone is supposed to be speaking English, but the first few days in London felt like I was literally anywhere else besides a predominantly English speaking town because everyone was not English and they all spoke in accents from other countries and they barely understand what I was saying when I was speaking fucking English. WHERE WERE ALL THE ENGLISH IN ENGLAND?!?!? Probably vacationing in Spain or something.

I KID, I KID!!!!

I ENJOYED LONDON!!! I DID!!!

I did.

Seriously.

I do want to throw something out there before I give you an overview of what I did in London…

NEVER STAY IN A HILTON HOTEL IN THE UK!!!! EVER!!! NEVER!!! EVER!!! EVER!!! UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF!!! ONLY STAY IN A HILTON HOTEL IN THE COUNTRY OF ENGLAND IF YOU HATE YOURSELF!!! YOU SHOULDN’T HATE YOURSELF!!! UNLESS YOU’RE LIKE A CHILD MOLESTER AND THEN IT IS TOTALLY COOL IF YOU HATE YOURSELF!!! ONLY CHILD MOLESTERS SHOULD STAY IN HILTON HOTELS IN ENGLAND!!! THAT’S REALLY A LIFE RULE TO FOLLOW!!! ARE YOU A CHILD MOLESTER?!?!?! NO? THEN DON’T STAY IN A HILTON HOTEL IN ENGLAND!!! 

Yeah, I’ve stayed in three Hilton Hotels in the country of England and I’ve come to the conclusion that they are only fit for child molesters or someone as terrible as a child molester.

We don’t even have to make changes to the Hilton Hotels in England to turn them into prisons for child molesters. Just arrest and convict a child molester, put them in a current Hilton Hotel in England, and never let them leave the building and they’ll get the idea that their fate is worse than a typical prison.

Honestly, the Hilton I just stayed in was so perfectly suited for a child molester or simply terrible person to the point that you could have even let them leave the hotel and they would still feel like they were in prison because the closest “tube” stop was over a mile away. A MILE!

Have you ever wanted to go do something? Imagine you have a desire to do something and then imagine what that desire feels like after you walk a mile through a hot and humid city. Not the same desire, right? That’s what Danielle and I had to deal with the first couple days in London before we switched hotels to a much much much much much much better hotel that was suited for human beings and not for child molesters… like the Hilton Hotel is.

Ok.

Got that.

Let’s talk the good stuff!

THE TUBE!!!

It’s pretty great. It doesn’t really seem like a subway as much as a Disney monorail that you ride through the city.

It seemed expensive, but I think there might have been cheaper ways to go about purchasing tickets than I did. I’m not sure. Either way…

The tube is pretty clean and runs very frequently. That is about all you really need for a good subway. The second part is interesting to the point that you can actually not get on a subway that comes through if it is too crowded and catch the next one. THAT’S MENTAL. That is not something you would do in New York or anywhere I guess. I’ve never been to Japan, but they pack people into those subway cars like sardines. In New York, if you miss a subway – you’ve got a window of maybe the next one comes in a few minutes or an hour and who knows at most of the stops. And with so many fucking people in NYC, there’s absolutely ZERO guarantee that the next subway car will not be any less packed.

At first, I was pretty mystified by the subway map of London, but after using it like twice I think I had a decent grasp of it. It’s no more complicated than the NYC subway, just different. Instead of memorizing letters and numbers… you’ve got the cutesy PICCADILLY line or JUBILEE line that you quickly remember because England is a fucking cutesy wootsy place in comparison to any major American city.

That’s the thing really – the cutesy factor.

LONDON HAS A CUTESY FACTOR.

Walking around London, there were a lot of parts of it that reminded me of Philadelphia. It’s a city with a lot of history, a lot of cobble stone streets, it’s a hard city, kind of a dirty city, it’s not a pretty city, but it’s a city rich with character. But there’s one thing that Philly doesn’t have… cutesy.

Philly is the anti-cutesy.

It’s really a culture difference between US and UK, but there is a bit of a playfulness about England or London. Maybe they don’t see it as much as I do as an outsider. London seemed like a gruff tattooed biker at first until you heard it childish giggle laugh. It’s really just a big softie on the inside waiting to be hugged, but it’s got that tough exterior trying to make sure you don’t take advantage of it.

Anyway, I did like the tube.

FISH & CHIPS!!!

Not that I haven’t had fish & chips before or anything like that… I’ve eaten plenty of it. But I did get a recommendation for a place in Covent Garden called ROCK and SOUL PLAICE that was excellent. They had options for the fish in the fish & chips, which I don’t think I was ever afforded that anywhere else I’ve had it. I got the lemon sole and loved it. Danielle went traditional with cod and hers was quite good as well.

That was another thing… Philly has cheesesteaks… London has fish & chips.

You could walk into a bar anywhere in either city and get their version of that meal and I bet in both cities it is as hotly debated which of these bars it has the best of that dish.

PUBS!!!

I don’t like the term pub. Honestly, I don’t like the term “chips” for french fries either. As for “pub”, I don’t know. I like “bar” better. That’s what you’re looking for when you go into one of those places… the bar. And you go to the bar to order a drink at the bar, so it’s a bar.

Either way, right now in my head if I could open a bar it would be called Pitty’s Pub and the walls would be covered in pictures of pitbulls and there would be dog related named drinks.

I went to a few pubs in London and I drank Guinness almost every time.

I love Guinness. I love it in the US. I love Guinness.

I didn’t know for awhile that Guinness in Ireland and the UK was supposed to be different than Guinness in the US. I mean I heard that years ago at this point, but when I was like 19 or so and drinking Guinness and loving it, I didn’t know it was a different product than the stuff across the pond. As the years went on, I heard people say there was this BIG difference between the two Guinnesses and I was really interested to taste what the difference was.

A couple of years ago, I went over to Scotland and to northern England for the first time and I had Guinness a couple of times and, honestly, didn’t notice a difference. Also, I didn’t really think about it either, but I didn’t notice any big difference.

This time, I wanted to keep my eyes and taste buds keen on any difference.

WHAT’S THE BIG DIFFERENCE?

Uhhhhhhh… it’s less bitter and more creamy? I don’t know. About the only thing I really notice is different taps. And that may be the key to there being a difference.

In the US, a Guinness tap is usually just with the rest of the taps at the bar. Nothing special.

In the UK, a Guinness tap is separate and has this “EXTRA COLD” label on it and if the bar is doing it right then the Guinness is quite cold. I think that extra coolness may make the drink more creamy because it is frostier. In the US, it can certainly be cold, but not like this. It’s almost like chill served like a jaeger machine can chill serve jaeger instead of just serving cold jaeger out of a bottle. Also, jaeger is terrible.

Anyway…

I did go to a place in London called THE TOUCAN which was known for serving the best Guinness in town and I’ll tell you what… they’re not wrong. It was certainly fresh tasting and clean tasting and it had that chill treatment. So, it was a nice glass of Guinness.

UK or USA, I love Guinness, so I’m happy drinking it anywhere.

Also, at the Toucan, our bartender was electrocuted and I made friends with a crazy drunk Englishman who later told me and Danielle to our faces that if I didn’t watch out for my “misses” aka Danielle then someone else would… he would. Yep. Me and him were best friends. About 10 minutes after he said that, Danielle and I saw him get bodyslammed onto the city street by a different Englishman who didn’t take too kindly to the guy’s drunken jokes.

INDIAN FOOD!!!!

Danielle and I love Indian food.

We’re pretty fucking spoiled that there is a great Indian restaurant in Morristown like a mile from us, so we get Indian food all the time. Actually, we used to live across the street from the place, which was pretty dangerous for our bellies.

London has a lot of Indians and we ate Indian two of the nights we were there.

The first place was a tiny little local spot, which we were 1 of 2 couples in the place. The other couple had their dinner date crash & burn as the guy for whatever reason decided to field a 20 minute work call in the middle of dinner. Let’s just say that is an ill-advised thing to do on a date. I don’t think she said a single word to the guy for the rest of the meal.

Our food was quite good. Danielle got a tikka masala dish that was made with almond and coconut milk and it was really great.

The second place we went to was much much much busier. I do like spicy food, but I’m not out there to prove anything. Nevertheless, I got some crazy spicy chicken vindaloo at this place and thank God my taste buds had been dulled from two pints of Guinness and a Cobra (Indian beer) because that shit was SPICY.

ONCE!!!

Danielle and I saw “Once” on Friday night in London and it was solid.

It was pretty much what the movie was plus a ton of cheesy dialogue. I hadn’t seen Once since the movie came out way back when, but it was still good a second time around. The music is great and I used to listen to that album a bunch and I thought this cast did a good job with it.

A little fun fact – at the intermission of a play in London, EVERYONE EATS ICE CREAM. I’m not sure why. I’m not sure you need a reason why, but it was cutesy as can be.

Lastly…

THE SEX CLINIC

WHAT A FUCKING GREAT TV SHOW!!!!

The last/first time I was in England, Danielle and I fell in love with a dating show called TAKE ME OUT. We’re such fans to the point that when we got back to the US we started downloading episodes of the show and we’ve seen every episode to this day as we keep up with the show. I know the US did a version of the show, but it just does not translate. 99% of the fun of the show is how absurd these UK people are who are on the show. It’s fucking a hysterical show.

This time, we found The Sex Clinic.

On Channel 4, they started a no-frills documentary show about a sex clinic in London and it is beyond entertaining. We saw one episode of the four I think they’ve shown so far and I’m definitely going to try and track down the other episodes online.

It was a very bare bones peak into real people walking into a sex clinic to talk about the dirty sex they were having and the dirty drugs they were doing AND IT WAS INCREDIBLE.

I mean there was a guy in his early to mid 20’s who came into the clinic because something was wrong with his dick. He admitted to having unprotected anal sex… with dudes, as well as sharing coke straws because the past few months had gotten a little wild for him. They explained to him – he might have AIDS. From either the anal sex or the coke straws, which he didn’t know he could get AIDS from sharing coke straws because he’s an idiot and didn’t think about how often people get nose bleeds while doing coke and that they’re not sterilizing the fucking straw after they get their AIDS blood on it.

They did a full litany of STD checks on the dude including swabbing his asshole… ON NATIONAL TELEVISION.

I mean how many TV shows do you know where a dude might get AIDS in front of your eyes? That’s pretty nuts.

Also, it’s simply nuts to hear people talk openly about having unprotected anal sex with a stranger and sharing coke straws and that he might have AIDS and not to see the person getting crucified for it. Because if this show ran for ONE SECOND in the US, that gay kid would’ve been crucified for any of that stuff.

Anyway, he didn’t have AIDS.

We found out he didn’t have AIDS as he found out he didn’t have AIDS as he drank a fucking SMOOTHIE at a cafe and he talked to the clinic on his cellphone.

Turned out he had gonorrhea, which explains his dick problems.

THE FUCKING FUNNIEST PART was the guy put off going to the sex clinic for a couple weeks out of embarrassment and so forth and just thought that his dick hurt because he ate something weird.

I SHIT YOU NOT!!! HE THOUGHT HIS DICK HURT BECAUSE HE ATE SOMETHING WEIRD!!! WHAT THE FUCK COULD HE HAVE ATE THAT WOULD MAKE HIS DICK HURT?!?!?! BETTER QUESTION- DOES HE EAT FOOD WITH HIS DICK?!?!?! BECAUSE THAT’S THE ONLY WAY THE FOOD WOULD HURT HIS DICK WAS IF HE WAS TRYING TO EAT THE FOOD WITH HIS DICK!!!!!!

Besides that guy…

There was this short couple that looked kind of trashy and they talked openly about their sex life to the point that I know and all of England knows and now you know that they use vibrators and dildos when they have sex. He likes to double penetrate her with a vibrator and a dildo. And he does it so much that sometimes she doesn’t know which of the objects probing her holes is his penis or a vibrator and/or dildo. And that makes him giggle!

Also, she gets a UTI every time he goes down on her. YEP! THAT WAS SAID ON TV!

PHENOMENAL.

Do you know what else? WE SAW THAT UTI RIDDLED VAGINA!!! Yep. They got her up on the table, legs in stirrups, speculum ratcheted out about [——————————] yay big and we just saw right into her vagina hole. Yep, there was nudity on this show and it was graphic and thoroughly unsexy.

Also, this couple lived on a shitty houseboat in London and we found out that he lost like 100 pounds since he started dating her, so he lost 100 pounds fucking her with vibrators. UNBELIEVABLE.

The moral to this story is no one should ever step foot on that houseboat or in a Hilton Hotel in England.

Whaddup!

I’m more surprised than you are! Way more surprised! Like super duper surprised! Like super duper muper buper grouper the fish Looper the sci-fi movie starring Joseph Gordon Levitt who has been pretty quiet this year surprised that I DIDN’T FART while doing yoga for the first time.

Honestly, I was under the impression that me farting while doing yoga was something completely out of my control.

It was inevitable.

Like Agent Smith breaking Morpheus’ mind to get the access codes to Zion.

That was how inevitable it was that I was going to tear ass while doing yoga.

BUT! My butt didn’t fart. It didn’t. IT WAS CRAZY TOWN “Butterfly” that it didn’t fart.

Danielle didn’t fart, either!

SERIOUSLY, I THINK IT WAS A YOGA MIRACLE!!!!!

I mean in all of your worldly knowledge- have you ever heard of two people doing yoga at the same time in the same room and neither one farts? I’ve never heard that story!

The odds were really stacked against us that one of us was going to blow an O-ring with a mondo fart as we stretched and held precarious positions while we sweated and hated ourselves in our living room on newly purchased yoga mats from Target.

But it didn’t happen! Our nostrils were saved the indignity!

I will say there isn’t a number small enough to provide an appropriate percentage that this likelihood of us doing yoga will produce another fart free half hour.

I am fully comfortable admitting that.

So, what happened?

Well, Danielle and I really started using a rowing machine that I had purchased earlier this year.

We were using it on and off, mostly off for the most of the year and then for the past 3 weeks we’ve been using it regularly.

Danielle finds it boring.

It’s not not boring; I’ll agree to that. It’s just you pulling a handle on a chain with resistance over and over again for like 20-30 minutes. Our basement isn’t the most dynamic thing to look at. So, Danielle and I were coming up with ideas about what would make it more interesting.

I had been thinking that since Danielle is a girl that she would want to try yoga at some point.

If you didn’t know this…

FEMALES ARE INHERENTLY CURIOUS ABOUT YOGA!

It’s just inside them at birth along with fallopian tubes.

I had been thinking about saying if she wanted to try a yoga workout at home that I would do it as well and take that most likely gassy and embarrassing journey together. If she wanted…

Two nights ago, Danielle did bring up yoga because…

FEMALES ARE INHERENTLY CURIOUS ABOUT YOGA!

And I was well-prepared to respond that I would try it if she made it so. It was very much a “Field of Dreams” scenario… with more farting.

Last night, Danielle came home with two yoga mats and I greeted her with “The Biggest Loser Workout – Weight Loss Yoga”, which is hosted by “evil Joel McHale” Bob Harper and was the video requested by Danielle.

After Danielle switched from work clothes to workout clothes, we began disassembling our living room to provide space for us to put down our yoga mats and we got Coco a prime viewing spot on the couch to watch us try and hold poses like a bunch of awkward idiots and…

WE CLOSED OUR FUCKING BLINDS SO NO ONE FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD COULD JUDGE US!!!!!

And after all that… we were ready… to do some yoga…

First up, BREATHING…

I enjoy breathing in general, but you really start to enjoy breathing a lot more while doing yoga. Why? Not for any of that silly bullshit reasons that some yoga person who is all hippie dippie and weighs ten pounds and drinks only green things will tell you…

You enjoy breathing because IT’S THE ONLY THING IN YOGA THAT DOESN’T CAUSE YOU PAIN!

Let’s talk about some of these poses…

DOWNWARD DOG

Sucks.

Yep. Downward dog sucks. My family has owned a dozen dogs in my life and I’ve got a dog that I own a couple feet from me and none of them do this “downward dog” bullshit. Have yoga people never seen dogs? Dogs do not try to recreate a teepee with their body and then hold it for 20 seconds.

Dogs sleep. Dogs eat. Dogs poop. Occasionally, dogs try to kill something – a squirrel or a $20 toy you purchased from PetSmart that says it’s indestructible, but within 10 minutes of your dog “playing” with it there’s 8 holes in it and the plastic squeaker has been ripped out of it.

Sometimes when you’re in downward dog, Bob tells you to put one of your feet as high as you can in the air because he hates you and he hates how you look and he’s going to change that hate into love if you could just hold that downward dog position for 3 more breaths while your one of your feet is above your head.

To get out of downward dog, Bob instructs me to take one foot and just put it between my hands.

To get out of downward dog, I hear Bob say that, but realize it is an impossibility for such devil magic to occur and I drop to a knee, steady myself, stand-up, recover from headrush, and assume the next position…

WARRIOR POSE

Sucks.

At first you’re like, I can do this. I’m just standing with one foot outstretched in front of the other.

Cut to 5 seconds later, your front leg is burning and your shoulders and armpits feel like they are being attacked by fast-acting shingles.

Warrior pose I and II has one leg in front at a 90 degree angle and the trailing leg outstretched behind you while you have your arms shooting out straight from your sides parallel to the ground.

I didn’t feel like a warrior while holding this pose. I felt more like a weak failure at life because holding my arms out to the side was KILLING ME.

PLANK

Sucks.

You can stick that plank straight up your ass, Bob. Your no doubt tight muscled ass from doing all those planks, Bob.

Plank is holding a push-up position, which I could do normally if that’s all that was asked of me, but 20 minutes in of warrior and downward dog… doing a push-up was an impossibility.

Fuck plank. Maybe one day I’ll get to plank, but last night I was stuck with the indignity of…

CHILD’S POSE

Sucks.

But sweet merciful God, thank you for the luxury of child’s pose aka kneeling.

You’re supposed to be putting your weight on your arms like a half-plank basically, but the Lord above knows that all my weight was pretty much on my knees as I was just taking a breather kneeling on all fours.

Hey grown man, why don’t you take the child’s pose because you’re WEAK and NO LIKES YOU!

Is this yoga or a cleverly veiled BDSM instructional video tape?

At this point, I should mention my hero – Bernie.

BERNIE!!!

In Bob’s torture yoga video, there are 4 people doing the yoga with him.

There’s middle-aged maybe too muscular guy, there’s average sized woman, there’s thin woman, and there’s Bernie.

I’m sure he said the other people’s names at some point, but Bernie’s is the only one worth remembering because Bernie and I understood each other…

BERNIE CAN’T PLANK! 

Bernie and I were seeing eye-to-eye on this and Bernie was taking the child’s pose route as well as later when we had to do this pose where we’re supposed to be cool just chilling on outstretched arm and the side of our foot… Bernie and I dropped a knee to the ground because this isn’t going to be an Icarus situation where we’re flying way too close to the Sun doing yoga and get ourselves our hurt or really make a fool of ourselves.

Nah, we’re going to drop a knee to the floor for some stability.

What else was there?

CHAIR POSE

Sucks.

So, you’re like a good 20+ minutes into this weight loss yoga holocaust routine and your arms are hurting and your legs are hurting and your sweating and your head is a little dizzy and you’re simply stunned that you haven’t farted a hurricane of farts while in downward dog the 1 of 100 times you were in that position…

Now, it’s time to beat-up those thighs and put your feet together and sit back on an imaginary chair of infinite pain.

As if that wasn’t enough, Bob and yoga and your Christian Grey like sadist overlord wants to break you and apparently all they need to do that is make you sit in this imaginary chair and…

MAKE YOU RAISE YOUR FUCKING ARMS!

Have you ever seen video of people at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem?

That’s how I felt. I felt like I was raising my arms to the Almighty with the burden of humanity’s many ills weighing upon my shoulders as I tried to simply raise my arms toward the ceiling while sitting in my fucking imaginary chair.

It was humbling.

But I didn’t fart.

Bob made me sweat.

Bob made me ache.

Bob made me want to give-up.

But…

Bob never made me fart out my ass cheeks. 

I took that as my moral victory.

Whaddup!

I went to a bachelor party this past weekend and that means one thing and one thing only…

I’M STILL NOT POOPING RIGHT!!!!

Yerp.

There’s something that is left out of movies or TV shows or really anything where they show what truly happens at these all guys drinking weekends and that is us giving ourselves putrid diarrhea and horrific gas.

Some say it’s penance. Some say it’s because you spend 3 straight days and nights drinking a million beers, eating potato chips, cheeseburgers, and little to no sleep. That’s what happens to your body.

Maybe rich people do it up differently. Maybe they have hummus with freshly baked pita squares, grilled chicken over a bed of baby spinach, and plush king beds with late wake-up times.

Maybe that’s what they do, but that’s not what I’ve seen. The few bachelor parties I have been to have been about drinking as many beers as you can and stuffing yourself with an Applebees amount of food and barely getting a wink of sleep in between.

This past weekend’s bachelor party was from Thursday night to early Sunday morning. It was not my bachelor party, but a college friend’s.

I had some laughs. A lot of laughs actually.

I had some beers. A lot of beers actually.

And I came to a realization that I already knew, but I had it re-realized for me yet again…

MEN’S ASSHOLES STINK LIKE THE DEVIL

I’m not talking about the literal “devil”… probably because I don’t think there is a LITERAL devil out there.

If there were a literal devil, I’d guess he would smell like burnt flowers. He was an angel and the most beloved the moment before he fell, so I would assume he smelled like wondrous flowers and then the whole Hell thing made him smell like ash and soot, so burnt flowers.

The devil I’m talking about is the concept of a devil. Like the most repugnant evil to ever exist because that’s what men’s assholes smell like.

MEN’S ASSHOLES STINK LIKE THE MOST REPUGNANT EVIL TO EVER EXIST

As mentioned earlier about what really goes on at these bachelor parties, it’s giving ourselves diarrhea.

The other thing that happens is…

A HOLOCAUST OF FARTS

There are guys out there who fart in front of ladies. There are. You’ve probably met them or maybe even married one.

I’m not talking about a guy who farts in front of his lady because he’s married. I’m talking about the guy who just tears ass in front of a lady regardless of how intimate they are. Just a free spirit with his farts.

There are guys like that.

There are even more guys that fart in front of other guys. That percentage of guys is 99.999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999% of guys.

And that becomes incredibly apparent when you’re around just other guys. Not just other guys, but 12 other guys.

What happens when 12 guys spend a couple days and nights together?

YOUR NOSE LIVES IN A CONSTANT HELL OF FARTS

Just not stop farting. I mean the idea that the beans, campfire scene in “Blazing Saddles” is supposed to be comedic is apparent, but it’s more of a documentary than anything about a bunch of dudes hanging out together.

This idea that men are showing each other their penises or talking about their penis size to defeat each other in some alpha/beta relationship is not something that happens or at least I’ve never seen it occur in 31 years on this planet.

What I have seen or smelt is the raucous dispelling of vile air through another man’s rotting asshole when in the company of other men.

And I do believe they’re rotting.

MEN’S ASSHOLES ARE ROTTING

I don’t know how else an odor of such immeasurable stank could come out of something that was alive and well.

They have to be dead and decomposing. It’s like an air magnet being forced through a world of the stinkiest metals ever imagined that the magnet attracts and gets those metals stuck to and when it comes out the other end of that world – it’s like a fucking claymore mine of shit stank exploding in your face.

It’s insane.

There was a point on Saturday night — so we had already gone through Friday night which was a lawless amount of drinking and Saturday which had more drinking — where we were all sitting around this fire pit and joking around and one of the other 31 year old men who was sitting there started to let loose some gas and if I was at all sober or had a car I would have driven him to the hospital.

THE HOSPITAL!

His gas smelled so bad it was really reproachable.

It was simply wrong.

Just not right.

It was the opposite of right.

It was a “2 + 2 = potato” level of wrong.

Honestly, I made fun of this man. And, honestly, I should have tried to help him. Get him some professional medical advice because clearly there was a dead raccoon lodged in his asshole.

All I did was make fun of him as well as a few others, but this could have been a real learning opportunity for him to catalogue what he had ate or ingested and he could have deduced what part of that diet made his gas smell like expired eggs cooking under heat lamps in a room made entirely of shit.

He was drinking many heavy IPA beers, he was eating chips, there was a 7 layer bean dip he may have ate, there was pizza, there had been hotdogs and cheeseburgers the day earlier… or he could have been snacking on raw whale meat marinated in sewage waste. I don’t know. I’m just saying we could have helped, but we didn’t.

We just laughed about it as we felt nauseous and let the problem persist and no doubt his innocent wife had to deal with I could only imagine was nuclear poisoning level of diarrhea in their upscale Boston residence this past couple days.

Outside of that…

Well, it was a good time. It was a bunch of 31 year olds and the bachelor’s younger brothers. One of those younger brothers – the youngest – is 18 and he got put through the ringer. He drank a ton of beer Friday night, got served his first scotch, smoked pot, smoked cigarettes (much much much worse), and he spent all day Saturday throwing up all day to night.

So, we accomplished that as well.

Horrific ass gas.

Broke an 18 year old.

So, for any ladies out there who are like “I want to go to a bachelor party weekend” – you don’t.

You do want to go on a vacation of sorts and drink and have no worries for a weekend.

Rest assured, you do not want to step into the Hellhole that is a man’s bachelor party because it simply will be you smelling all of those men’s Hellholes for a weekend.

Whad. Dup.

I really have one thing to say today – really just one thing – and I thought I would get it right out in the open at the start of this post and then we’ll see where things go from there, ok?

What’s the one thing?

I have seen Hope Solo’s asshole 3 times and my future wife’s new wedding dress 0 times. 

Let me clarify… my future wife got a wedding dress.

The future wife being Danielle. Remember her?

And it wasn’t a NEW wedding dress as in she had an old wedding dress that she had used a dozen or so times and was a little beat-up and its natural coloring was starting to favor a brownish tinge like Hope Solo’s asshole. No, I didn’t mean to confuse anyone about that.

Although! Danielle did seem set on a different wedding dress a week earlier. A wedding dress that the only thing I knew about it was that it was the second of three dresses that Danielle liked. Keeping its anonymity for me, we would call the dress #2. Yep.

Shame on you if you thought I was going to follow-up that tidbit with a joke about Hope Solo’s asshole being where her #2’s come out of. That’s just inappropriate. Unnecessary even. As unnecessary as having an extreme close-up of your own asshole up in the icloud.

Danielle went dress shopping for the first time and second time at two shops in South Jersey a couple of Fridays ago and she came up empty-handed at the first place as she was shown dresses she would never ever wear by a gremlin who resembled a down on her luck Snooki from 40 years into the future.

The second place went much better and Danielle found three dresses that she liked a lot. The first she kind of just kept on the roster of mentioned dresses as a moral victory for that dress because the real focus was on Danielle is dresses 2 and 3. And that’s all I get. 2 and 3. The chronological order of the dresses she liked.

See, Danielle doesn’t want me to see the wedding dress until our wedding. BUT… we do this weird thing as a couple, which makes this process much more annoying – we talk. We talk to each other! I know it got worse right there. So, Danielle wants to tell me about how the dress shopping went and I want to hear about it too because I’m concerned with what she’s up to and how successful these ventures have been because picking out your wedding dress can be quite stressful and if Danielle is stressed out then she’s probably not going to be as compliant as she normally is about watching a COPS marathon on a Friday night.

So, 2 and 3. That’s what I got all Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of last week. 2 and 3. 2 and 3 really held a place in my consciousness. I was very concerned about 2 and 3. And at the same time, 2 and 3 could have been called Professor Bumpkin Delight and Dr. Swaggleboot Dantrypoot because I HAD NO FuCKING CLUE WHAT THEY LOOKED LIKE.

Either way, we talked about them a lot and all I know about 2 and 3 is that TWO was supposed to be more “fun” and THREE was supposed to be more “girly”. That’s it!

Honestly, it didn’t even matter that I knew that because I don’t have a say in the matter, but that is what Danielle let me know about these dresses.

By Thursday, Danielle had ruled out dress 3 and had settled with dress 2 as Danielle prepared herself to go to…

KLEINFELD’S!!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOO!!! TELEVISION SHOWS!!!!!

I never heard of “Say Yes to the Dress” until earlier this year when my sister went to Kleinfeld’s to get her dress and my mom was very wary of going there and Danielle understood why she was and I was out of the loop. Then it was that they have a TV show that somehow went unnoticed by me and that on said TV show they show women buying wedding dresses for like a billion thousand dollars and that’s intimidating.

My mom went with my sister and my mom and my sister loved the place and ended up getting my sister’s dress there. Then I found out my cousin got her dress there a year or two earlier and I was at that wedding. Danielle and I did sit down and watch a few episodes of the TV show and it is a pretty fucking good show, so I can see why it is popular. Still surprised I had never heard of it until a few months ago.

Friday at 2:30pm … Danielle went to Kleinfeld’s. Her posse was her mom and her maid of honor – Danielle’s maid of honor, not Danielle’s mom’s maid of honor… that would have been odd, right? Ok. So, the three lady amigas went to Kleinfeld’s and long story short…

THEY SAW THE SITUATION!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! FUCKING KLEINFELD’S!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Seriously.

Not that seeing The Situation is a bad omen like a black cat walking past you or crows waiting on the hood of your car or walking into a movie and finding out moments prior that M. Night Shyamalan directed it. In fact, as mentioned, vis-a-vis… Danielle did buy a wedding dress at Kleinfeld’s so seeing The Situation somewhere could be a sign of good luck like shooting star, finding an up-turned quarter, or our pitbull Coco giving you a lick on the face BECAUSE SHE NEVER GIVES ME LICKS ON THE FACE. IS IT THE BEARD?!?!?!?! JUST GIVE ME A LICK!!!!

Anywhatzzle…

The Situation and his whole family of juiced up Italians were at Kleinfeld’s looking at wedding dresses for his sister who if you watched the Jersey Shore should remember. And strangely enough, The Situation has seen Danielle in her wedding dress and YET I HAVE NOT. Either way…

Danielle found a wedding dress… and she said yes to it.

Where was I when this all happened? I was recovering from a bad hangover on my couch with Coco. I got the text that she bought a dress and I was happy. Yes, I was happy. I had a moment of happiness like when you’re eating a really good cannoli and you’re just like fuck I love everything for this moment.

What do I know about this dress? Well, she said it was “ivory”. That’s all I know. It kind of slipped out of her mouth at one point and she copped to the dress being ivory, which isn’t like a shock or anything. I mean I was expecting a white wedding dress.

The wedding is a YEAR and THREE DAYS away, so I’ve got a lot of time between now and then and me seeing this dress for the first time. And until that time… any electronic device that has iphotos on it has suddenly become an active explosive device that I have to carefully avoid.

Who knows how the icloud works. Seriously. I mean I have seen Hope Solo’s asshole because of it, so it’s not unlikely that the icloud would just up and decide to randomly show me a picture of Danielle’s wedding dress at any time prior to a year and three days from today.

So…

We’ve got the venue, the caterers, the photographer, and the wedding dress.

We’ve got to make our save the dates which we kind of have already, wedding invitations, the DJ who we are meeting next week via an awkward Skype session, the flower guy we have but we have to meet with him, Danielle’s working on choosing the bridesmaid dresses, and that’s what I know. I’m not sure what else we have to get together.

Oh right, Hope Solo’s asshole. Well, that was sent to me in an email. Truthfully. Funnily enough, it is better that someone sent a picture of a stranger, yet excellent soccer player’s asshole to me than a picture of my future wife in her wedding dress.

What a wonderful world we live in, right?

Hello.

I have a serious admission to make… I was violated last week.

VIOLATED BY U2!!!

And it wasn’t just me! IT WAS YOU TOO!

YOU TOO GOT VIOLATED BY U2!!!!

OH, THE IRONY! BUT NOT REAL IRONY, BUT THE IRONY THAT PEOPLE THINK IS THE DEFINITION OF IRONY AND REALLY ISN’T IRONY. IT’S MORE LIKE AN AMUSING COINCIDENCE OR SOMETHING THAT’S JUST MILDLY RELATED THAT ONE WOULDN’T EXPECT TO BE RELATED AND IN THAT IT IS JUST THAT AMUSING COINCIDENCE I MENTIONED A SECOND AGO. OH, THE IRONY!!!!

Is there a band named THE IRONY?

I would check out a song or two of The Irony on the Youtube if there was such a band. I mean I never heard of the band LET’S WRESTLE before, but then did hear of them and listened to them because I thought that’s a great name and listened to this song…

And I really dig this song.

Also, I feel like this song was in a movie or a TV show and I can’t figure out, which one. Hmmmm…

What was I talking about at the beginning of this post? Let me check…

WE WERE ALL VIOLATED BY U2!!!!!

Ahhhhh yes…

And by us and by me and by you too, I mean our iTunes accounts, which are in fact closer to me and more apart of my life than many of my internal organs and/or your internal organs, so it’s a total violation.

What happened?

Well, for whatever reason, Apple – the people who are not-so-secretly trying to rule the world by turning us all into slaves to their robots – decided to spice up their launching of the iPhone 6 and the new iWatch – is it called iWatch? – by also releasing the wholly unanticipated new U2 album.

That sounds pretty random, but you have to remember – YOU HAVE TO! – that Apple did once make that U2 ipod, which was preloaded with the then new U2 album. Remember seeing that stupid “Vertigo” commercial all the time? ONE! TWO! THREE! FORTY! Isn’t that what he says in like Italian or something… and by he, I mean Bono. And by Bono, I mean the guy you’ve been sick of hearing sing for the past 30 years and is the father of Eve Hewson aka “shy busty nurse” on THE KNICK who I think we have about a 55% chance of seeing topless by season’s end. Actually, I’ve missed the past two episodes, so she may have gotten topless already. ACTUALLY! With how slow the show moves, Eve could be still in the process of taking her top off from two weeks ago. ZING!

Let me clear things up, if you have an iPhone or an iPad or an iTunes account anywhere including your iButt then Apple and U2 just fucking jammed their new album SONGS OF INNOCENCE right into that fucking thing. JUST RIGHT IN THERE!

I remember the good old days when the iCloud was just filled with naked celebrity pictures that they didn’t want everyone and their own mother to see, but now the iCloud is also the fortress of solitude for U2’s album… which means it is free.

Yep. Free album from U2.

Honestly, I think it is kind of weird that U2 just dropped a load in us all, but I’m not truly surprised.

And to be clear, it’s FREE for all of us, but it wasn’t free for Apple. They paid in some estimates $100 million for the album. I’m not sure what the number is nor do I care. I don’t really know why Apple did this, but they did.

I will say that I don’t really give a fuck about the new iPhone in any way more than I did about the past iPhones and me eventually getting one of the newer ones because I broke the old one or I was up for a new or whatever.

I will also say that I do really like the look of the watch. I don’t necessarily want one myself. I really don’t think the watch is necessary at all. Maybe it’s good for blind people because it seems like it is best used through voice commands? I have no idea. Maybe if you’re paralyzed by the fear of putting your hand into your pocket to retrieve your phone? I don’t know. I do think it looks a billion times better than I anticipated. It looks great and I think it will sell great. The Google Glass shit looked like shit, but the watches actually look stylish for really anyone and I’ll give my kudos – not the peanut butter ones – to Apple on that.

Back to U2…

I’m not a U2 fan.

I am a fan of the podcast U Talkin’ U2 to Me? And the two of them – Adam Scott and Scott Aukerman – love U2 and they reviewed the album and were really positive about it. Good for them. I’m glad they liked it. Me? Not so much.

A particularly terrible song or disliked or just fucking yuck song was track 3… CALIFORNIA (THERE IS NO END TO LOVE)

And I would put a video up here… but YOU HAVE THE FUCKING SONG ALREADY!

I have to say thank you to U2 because it certainly made me not purchasing this album easier than I had expected. Since, I listen to that funny U2 related podcast – i was thinking of listening to the album whenever it did come out. BUT! I clearly wasn’t going to buy it. So, I would have to listen to it on the Youtube or download it illegally. Guess what?! U2 did the job for me and just sent me the fucking album as well as YOU TOO and now we don’t have to worry about spending money or our moral compass being off course because we illegally downloaded it for a listen and then deleted it.

Before I shit on the shitty lyrics of the California song…

I think it is fucking smart as fuck for U2 to have done this. I think it would be smart as fuck for any band to do what U2 did. The only problem is that Apple already has a relationship with U2 and they’re not going to do what they did for just anyone. Whether I like it or not, U2 is a global band. A FUCKING HUGE BAND. And they can do shit like this. Like dropping their fucking album onto every piece of Apple branded device you own or the fucking iTunes you’re using on an IBM compatible because Apple is just that fucking big of a shit.

First, U2 got paid.

Second, it’s so much insane advertising for the album in a way that it probably wouldn’t have gotten before. It would have certainly been covered and reviewed before, BUT now literally everyone can review this album themselves because they didn’t just give it away for free – THEY FUCKING STUCK IT INSIDE OF YOU WITHOUT YOUR CONSENT.

Second part B, not just advertising for reviews, but advertising for TV shows, commercials, movies, and so forth that are looking for music to put in their shit and they’re not the best with choosing music. It’s brand new music that is sitting right there for YOU TO listen TO. It’s all harmless soft rock music, which is perfect for TV commercials or montages in broadcast TV.

Third, I guarantee it will soften the blow of a lot of reviews because it’s free and that makes people less critical about the work. Some may say that it “cheapens” it like it won’t be seen as a classic record because it was free, but how many new albums are labeled classics for bands that have been around for more than 10 or 15 or 20 or 30 years? None.

Fourth, I do think it will rekindle some past fans or some on the fence people because they didn’t have to go out of their way for it.

Fifth, we already think of U2 as being assholes – good or bad – and only an asshole could really just force an album into your phone and get away with it.

As for my thoughts on the album quickly… it’s meh. It’s a U2 album to me in what I would expect from a U2 album – especially a U2 album from the past decade or even two decades. If this is new or heady shit from U2 then I really do feel bad for U2 fans who have sat through worse. As mentioned a minute ago, I feel like this album sounds like harmless soft rock. It’s “dirtiest” moments are on “Volcano”, which still sounds like a song that could be in a Pixar movie. It’s well-produced? I hate saying that because it’s really not that much of a compliment, but there are badly produced albums by big name artists. It’s background music mostly and some people really like that. And I would know because I did just see Steve Winwood open for Tom Petty on Thursday.

CALIFORNIA!!!

This song sucks. And I’d like to take a look at the lyrics because the beginning moments of the song are an affront to humanity.

[Intro 4x:]
Bar-Bar-Barbara, Santa Barbara
Bar-Bar-Barbara, Santa Barbara
Bar-Bar-Barbara, Santa Barbara
Bar-Bar-Barbara, Santa Barbara

Yes…. errr… I mean no.

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

No, you cannot start a song off with Bar-Bar-Barbara, Santa Barbara and for me not to hate you. I thought I disliked U2 for pretty much every song they released from 1990 onward, but this is a new low for them. Remember when The Edge rapped and there were people pushing their feet into his face? That was better than this. It only lasts 30 seconds – that’s what she said – but it’s the worst 30 seconds of your life – that’s also what she said! I’M ON FIRE!!!!

Anyway, fuck U2.

Santa Barbara? Legitimately, around the 10th city I would think of naming if I were to right a song about California or expecting to hear a song about California. Obviously, Los Angeles would be right up there or San Francisco or San Diego or San Jose if we’re keeping with that San or Sacramento the much maligned capital city of California or Oakland because they have a professional football team like San Francisco and San Diego or Sonoma because I drink wine because I’m cultured or I would probably say Big Sur which isn’t a city but a populated region… I mean Santa Barbara is not high on the list.

I really just don’t know where Santa Barbara jumps into the forefront of this song minus U2 and/or Bono living in Santa Barbara.

Also, the band all chanting it together like surfer style Gregorian monks makes me want to blame all of them for this idiocy AND it makes me believe or anticipate that the following song will be almost entirely made up of lyrics involving California towns/cities.

California
Then we sail into the shiny sea
The weight that drags your heart down
Well, that’s what took me where I need to be

Ok.

He mentions the state itself, but the rest of that stanza sounds more like a suicide note.

Sailing into the sea – seemingly away from California and/or Santa Barbara – and a weight is dragging our heart? Sounds depressing. Doesn’t sound like I want to live in Santa Barbara. Doesn’t sound like I want to live at all, Quite Frankly with Stephen A. Smith.

And I’m not sure if the the “where I need to be” is death or a suicide help center in Santa Barbara.

Which is here, Alazzurra
Watching you cry like a baby
California
At the dawn you thought would never come
But it did
Like it always does

I’m understanding this song a lot less than previously anticipated.

Alazzurra? I have no idea what that is. I just typed that into Google – the holder of all answers – and all the results are for an Italian motorcycle. Is Bono talking about riding his Italian motorcycle into the sea to kill himself and then crying baby noises is the bike’s engine gurgling in the Pacific Ocean? If so, BRAVO!

Ok, I Googled “Alazzurra California” and it’s still pointing to Italian motor bikes or it’s just showing websites with the lyrics to this song on it.

Not helpful.

Crying at the dawn because you thought it never would come, but it did like it always does? Ugh. Blech. Yuck. One of those. Um… well, it sounds like trite garbage that could be in any song ever for the most part and wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t in another U2 song.

Is Bono’s kid named Alazzurra? I mean we know the one’s name is Eve Hewson. But does he have a kid named Alazzurra? It would make this baby crying bit make more sense, but it doesn’t help explain the first part any better.

Whoa, oh, all I know
And all I need to know is
There is no, yeah,
There is no end to love

That was unexpected, right?

I’m not the only one who thought that was like a severe left turn on an Alazzurra Italian motorcycle, right?

Again, that is some Hallmark bullshit that could be in any song let alone a song that is about California or about anything. It’s just kind of a-typical song writing.

I didn’t call you
A risk can scare a thought away
Everyone’s a star in our town
It’s just your light gets dimmer if you have to stay

The town of Santa Barbara? Never knew it was suck a rough town.

The first two lines are decent. A risk can scare a thought away is a good lyric. I’ll fully admit that. And pairing it with the idea of that thought being a phone call is decent stuff as well. I don’t really know what most of that has to do with the earlier stuff mentioned in this song.

Was I right that he was planning on committing suicide or felt suicidal on a motorcycle – great rhyme – and he still loves someone and knows that, but he’s too scared to call that someone?

That may be right. That may not be right. Either way, that is me piecing together something because anyone can use their imagination to create a story where one does or does not exist. That’s literally what a writing exercise is. Grab random words or sentences or ideas and make a story connecting them. It’s called using your brain.

The next part seems unrelated unless the person he’s not calling is his agent and/or Santa Barbara has the craziest Tindr singles’ scene.

In your bedroom, in a mirror
Watching yourself cry like a baby
California
The blood orange sunset brings you to your knees
I’ve seen for myself, there’s no end to grief
That’s how I know

It got weird. Bono just made it weird.

Crying baby image and/or words being used again and a random shout out to California. Before it was Alazzurra crying. Now, it’s you are crying. Or is it California crying? I’m not sure.

There was no end to love, right? Now, there is no end to grief! What does have an end, Bono?! Hopefully, this song.

So, Bono killed his motorcycle and he’s sad? You’re a millionaire, Bono! Buy another one!

Whoa, that’s how I know
And why I need to know
That there is no, yeah,
There is no end to love

Whoa, oh, all I know
And all I need to know is
There is no, yeah,
There is no end to love

Whoa, oh, all I know
And all I need to know is
There is no, yeah,
There is no end to love

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!

What a shitty song. Seriously.

It’s like they came up with this refrain, which is fairly milquetoast… and then when Bono was asked to sing the lyrics for the song he was like I’ll just improvise some lyrics like I’m scatting. And by scatting – I mean either jazz beeps and boops and/or actual shit coming from his mouth because that’s what these lyrics feel like.

I’ll also mention that I thought he said something about Zuma and not Alazzurra when I listened to the song. So, I actually thought those lyrics did mention a second California town. Unless Alazzurra is a California town that is just not known by Google.

Whoa, we come and go
With stolen days you don’t get back
Stolen days are just enough

I’m not sure if I can even take a decent stab at that, but it feels like a suicidal thought. I don’t know.

If you listen to the song, Bono et al really harp on this “there is no” part over and over and over again and it sounds more like one word than 3 separate words, but either way…

there is no

Pismo

San Luis Obispo

Quiznos

Those are some useful rhymes. Pismo and SLO are Cali towns and there are a fuck ton of Quiznos in California. I feel like that was a real missed opportunity for some solid tales about eating toasted sandwiches on the sandy beaches of the left coast.

Also, really just a missed opportunity for a song worth listening to in general.

At least, it’s free?

I love you.

And that saddens me almost as much as the actual abuse does.

It sounds selfish and childish to say that former Baltimore Ravens’ running back Ray Rice nearly ruined the opening weekend of the NFL.

I love watching NFL football. Probably as much as Ray Rice will miss actually playing NFL football.

Around the time that last season ended, Ray Rice and his then girlfriend Janay went to the Revel Casino in Atlantic City where seemingly they got drunk and argued, but that’s neither here nor there – truly that is neither here nor there in the following sentence.  As everyone knows, Ray knocked Janay unconscious in the confines of an elevator and then proceeded to drag her lifeless body into the casino’s lobby like she a duffel bag of unwanted laundry. 

It was disgusting and despicable. The world had video of the duffel bag of unwanted laundry moment, but not the actual battery moment. Apparently, that was not enough for some. 

The Ravens kept Rice during the 7 months between the moment of finding out about this terrible act and yesterday. 

The NFL suspended Rice for 2 games, which is half what Denver Broncos’ wide receiver Wes Welker got for testing positive for amphetamines for the first time in a decade of playing in the NFL. Some say Welker used the drug “molly” at the Kentucky Derby during the off-season, which sounds sort of far fetched unless he was tested right around the Derby and then the drug sample was not tested for months after that. Others say that Welker used Adderall, which has come slightly en vogue as a few players have come up for the speed-like substance over the past few years.

Back to the point, possibly taking Adderall was 2x worse than a security video of someone dragging their unconscious girlfriend out of an elevator and showing no remorse for the fact that she was seemingly conscious seconds earlier getting into that elevator with that aforementioned someone. 

So, 2 games. 

Then came the public apology. An apology from Ray Rice where he showed great “maturity”. That was a word thrown around by almost everyone who was analyst or a coach or player or teammate or whomever who covered the terrible abuse and sided with Rice. 

Maturity is an odd word to use and I think OVERused because it comes up a lot. 

When someone is caught violating a moral law and/or a governmental law and they apologize, that is obvious – not mature. 

When someone has been caught and is in the act of being punished to whatever degree and they say “sorry” – that’s just a natural reaction. It’s not true “maturity”. Unless, the only other option in people’s mind is for Rice to deny that it happened. And that would be immaturity. And to me, that immaturity would be delusion. And delusion is how everyone else who sided with Rice was acting. 

These people are deluded… but they won’t admit it. 

Seeing the initial video and still believing in anything, but the obvious that Ray had struck Janay to the point that she was rendered unconscious is just delusion. It’s a lie. Lying to oneself. Lying to oneself that there had to be a reasonable answer as to why Ray did what he did. And in that, those people should be ashamed that they allowed themselves to search for a reasonable answer to that because in doing so they allowed Ray to get away with physically abusing Janay that time and any other time he has or will in the future. 

But I’m kind of skipping my original point, I generally hated every reaction I heard on Monday on ESPN or for the NFL. 

Banning Rice was easy. Not difficult, but easy. TMZ and the elevator made it very easy for the NFL to make the right decision. The more “difficult” decision would have been to have done it after the first video 7 months ago. The second video erases the victim-blaming “reasonable” doubt they had lied to themselves about. People who still defend Ray have left the world of “reasonable”. 

The reactions I heard were a lot about “poor decision making”. True. It was poor decision making. That also is a very vague and loose and entirely all too flexible of an idea for a situation where a man knocks a woman unconscious. 

One who simply agrees with the decision making being “poor” may believe that Rice’s true problem was doing this in public. Hitting Janay within a heavily monitored casino. That’s the umbrella that labeling “poor decision making” allows.

It wasn’t simply poor decision making… it was heinous.

It was deplorable. It was disgusting. It was jarring. 

It was wrong.

It was wrong in an elevator. It would have been wrong in the car like Chris Brown. It would have been wrong at home like countless others. It is a wrong act in general.

Men hitting women is wrong. 

While, some may say (and have) or believe that “men hitting women is wrong” did not need to be said because everyone knows that already – wrong. That is also wrong. 

About the only thing that should be said and said over and over and over and over again is MEN HITTING WOMEN IS WRONG. 

Every sentence that came out of every football player, coach, analyst, executive et cetera’s mouth should have started with MEN HITTING WOMEN IS WRONG. 

Before they tried to say anything else about the suspension or the ban or how fucking wrong it is for men to hit women… the first thing all of these people should have said was MEN HITTING WOMEN IS WRONG.

And there are three reasons why…

1. BECAUSE MEN HITTING WOMEN IS WRONG – it fucking is. This is not a fantasy world. Janay is not a zombie comeback from the dead to eat brains or a demon shape-shifting poltergeist posing as Janay or an alien creature with a plan for world domination, which starts with assuming the identity of Janay Rice. Ray is a man and Janay is a woman and he should never hit her. That’s it. 

2. Because 99% of the people talking about this man hitting this woman were MEN – Former players, current players, former coaches, current coaches, team owners, NFL executives, the NFL commissioner Mr. dipshit Roger Goodell are all men. I don’t think I heard a single woman give her opinion on the matter. I only remember 2 women even being on screen with sideline reporter Michelle TaFoya and some chick in the studio who I don’t remember her name, but almost everyone who covered the awful story yesterday were cock and balls having dudes like Adam Schefter and Chris Mortenson and Ray Lewis and Steve Young and dimwit Cris Berman. And none of them made it angrily and perfectly clear that it was WRONG for MEN TO HIT WOMEN. All the bullshit about the suspension and all the bullshit about how this affects the team and all the bullshit about the NFL ta… fuck all of you for not just flatout saying MEN HITTING WOMEN IS WRONG. 

Men need to say that hitting women is wrong. Men. Honestly, I don’t care what women think about the issue. I’m joking, but it’s a man’s issue apparently. Because men are not telling other men it’s not right. Men are apparently saying shit like “poor decision making” instead of being like “Hey, what the fuck are you doing? Men hitting women is wrong! You fucking idiot!” 

And men that know it is wrong need to say it more than ever because it is clear that all men do not know it is wrong to hit women.

3. Because the women who are being hit by these men need to know that it is categorically wrong. Just as much as these men don’t seem to know how wrong it is for them to be hitting women, these women do not seem to know how wrong it is that they’re getting hit. 

Today, Janay Rice instagramed a message to the “media” about how they ruined her life. 

It’s a sad message both in how she intended it and by how deluded she is about her own self-worth. 

Janay is right. She’s right that the life she envisioned for herself is probably over. 

Janay is right that the “media” is to blame for getting her now husband fired. She is right that without the media’s intervention of sorts and non-stop playing of the incident of her being hit until she lost consciousness by her then NFL star running back boyfriend in an elevator at an Atlantic City casino that Ray Rice would still be running the football for the Baltimore Ravens for millions of dollars a year for at least the next few years. 

Janay is right about that, but there is some stuff she’s wrong about.

Janay is wrong that the life she envisioned for herself ended on Monday. It was “an” life she had envisioned that ended on Monday. There were many other lives she had envisioned for herself over the time she was with Ray that ended each time he hit her. 

Let’s say that the first time Ray ever hit Janay was in that elevator. Let’s say that to give Ray the benefit of the doubt. The benefit of the doubt that he never previously knocked Janay unconscious by hitting her. Whatever life she envisioned for herself prior to being knocked unconscious ended the moment Ray knocked her unconscious. From then on, Janay had a new life in her head – a new life where it was ok if he hit her until the point of unconsciousness because he either apologized or because they lived this glossy rich life on the surface while Ray secretly hit her when he got angry or drunk. 

Janay is wrong to think the media is the wrong doer in this scenario. Because of the hapless media of the world, Ray’s life as a man who hits women was brought to light and now he has to deal with it and instead of get away it. The media also forced the hand of a billion dollar team – Ravens – and a multi-billion dollar enterprise – the NFL – to not employ a known woman beater because they surely would have continued to employ him if the media did not force their hand. 

It’s obvious that Janay doesn’t want to be hit. It’s obvious that Janay wanted to be in love with Ray Rice and for him to continue being a professional football player.

But those options were not the world that Ray Rice offered. 

Ray hit Janay – not the media.

Ray was wrong to hit Janay – not the media. 

Hopefully, someone will get Janay to understand that it was never right for her to get hit. 

I would like to see some maturity from the NFL and, specifically, the Baltimore Ravens and, even more specifically, coach John Harbaugh.

I wish that the Baltimore Ravens and John Harbaugh and everyone else would admit that they didn’t want to believe that Ray Rice hit Janay and they were willing to delude themselves, to lie to themselves about it until it was empirically shown to them. 

I hope John Harbaugh and the Ravens and the NFL and Goodell admit they were wrong. They were wrong for protecting Ray after the first video was released. 

They thought they knew Ray Rice as a man who did not hit women. When they found out that he most likely did, they did not want to believe it and they lied to themselves and everyone else and they were wrong for doing so. They are sorry for who that hurt directly and indirectly. 

They will do better next time because sadly there will be a next time and when that next time happens their first reaction will be… men hitting women is wrong and they will try to help the woman and not try to protect the man. 

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