25 Random Baseball Things about me

So I read this post from Shysterball this morning and J9 recently tagged me in one of those facebook random things about you notes, so I thought it might be a good idea to try this. If you don't feel like clicking on the link, the idea is to take that facebook 25 random things bit and apply it to your experiences/thoughts about baseball. Since I haven't written about baseball here in a while (mostly due to the Mets' lackluster offseason) this will be a nice change of pace:



1. Obviously, I am a big Mets fan, although I can't exactly pinpoint when this became the case. I don't think it was a conscious decision, just the result of my dad taking me to so many Mets games over the years because the tickets were cheaper and Shea was easier to get to. I don't like to think about it, but if I had grown up in the Bonx or Manhattan instead of Brooklyn I might have been a Yankees fan. Wait, no. I have too much integrity for that.

2. Actually, there might be another reason I became a Mets fan besides the obvious geographical convenience. My dad grew up in Indiana as a Tigers fan (and somewhat Indians fan--I guess he liked whoever Rocky Colavito was playing for)during the 1950s. Therefore, like most God-fearing human beings he hated the Yankees and had to follow the Mets when he and my mother moved to New York in the early 70s (he came to NY in 1973, just in time to see the Ya Gotta Believe! Mets make a run to the World Series).

3. During a family trip to see one of my dad's friends who lived in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, we went to Dyersville--home of the Field of Dreams. I was about 8 or 9 I think and there was supposed to be an old-timers game. Well, the game was rained out but it was still a memorable day. As we were walking towards the corn behind the outfield grass, a guy with a microphone and a camera walked up and started interviewing me and my sister about baseball. If I recall correctly I think I told him I liked fielding better than hitting and he told us that we were going to be on some TV station in Wisconsin (I think). Later that day there was an autograph session in some big barn thing by the field and I met Mudcat Grant. I remember being really shy and intimidated and that he asked me if I was a "Bubba." I couldn't really understand his accent and when my dad told me what he asked me I had no idea what a "Bubba" was. I still have no idea.

4. Anyone who knows me well knows that my favorite player of all-time is Cal Ripken Jr. Well, because of my love for Cal I was a big Orioles fan as a kid, which meant that Jeffrey Maier hit me harder than your average Yankee ill-wisher. I really hate that kid.



5. From the more about Cal Ripken files:

The first time I saw Cal Ripken was in the old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore meaning it must have been 1991 when I was four years old. I remember being frightened because the upper deck was insanely steep, and that I asked my dad who "that tall man" was. I wasn't much interested in the game, only in the guy who, even from afar, seemed to tower over everyone on the infield. That man was of course Cal Ripken Jr.

In grade school, our librarian (and later gym teacher when P.S. 261 phased out the library in favor of more gym--who needs books when we can just play dodgeball!) Mr. Gelband would have us do a report every year on a famous/historical figure. I remember one year I was Wild Bill Hickok. The idea was to read a book about that person and then dress up as them a present a report to the class as that person. Most people did someone like Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Amelia Earhart, Abe Lincoln, etc. Well one year, I think 4th grade probably, I read Cal Ripken's autobiography (the one with a bunch of photographs, I don't remember what it was called), and put on an Orioles t-shirt and hat to give my report. I had a buzz cut back then and really light blonde hair, so I probably pulled off the balding thing pretty well.

6. As a youngster, most of our family road trips revolved around going to see baseball games and I have therefore been to more big league stadiums and minor league games than just about anyone my age I know. Like when Muggs told me she was from Frederick, I was like "Oh, home of the Frederick Keys" and I have actually been there. Or when she talked about an uncle in Hagerstown, I can relate that to the fact that I have sat on a hill behind left field at a Hagerstown Suns game. Anyway, here are the MLB stadiums where I've seen a game: Shea, Yankee Stadium, The Vet, Citizens Bank Park, Memorial Stadium (Baltimore), Camden Yards(I went to the first ever game-an exhibition against the Mets), RFK, Nationals Stadium, Tropicana Field, Three Rivers, PNC Park, Wrigley, Cellular One/New Comiskey (whatever it's called), Miller Park, Municipal Stadium (Cleveland), Jacobs Field, Tiger Stadium, Comerica. Pretty good for 22 and never really travelled much west of the Mississippi.

7. When I was 7, we finally made the jump up from teeball to live pitching in the 78th Precinct league. To ease the change the team's coach would pitch to the players for half the year with players getting to pitch in the second half of the season. I was a decent hitter but without much pop and even though our coach's son was my size or smaller (and I was a small kid) he was smacking extra base hits like crazy off his dad for the first half of the year. Well, when kids started pitching and his daddy wasn't grooving him slowballs at his belt he couldn't hit shit and I had the highest average on the team against "live" pitching.

8. I was a kind of little league journeyman, hopping from team to team every couple of years. From the ages of 5-15 I played for 78th Precinct, the Bonnies, Grace of Gravesend, Amity, Bergen Beach, and then back to the Bonnies (never did go over to St. Columba...or the Latin Souls for that matter). This of course was due to the fact that my dad inevitably had some sort of falling out or disagreement with whoever I was playing for. It was generally to get me somewhere where I had a chance to play more (although at least one of them was due to a personal injustice my dad felt we had suffered) and it was pretty frustrating at the time. Now it kinda cracks me up.

9. The first and only homerun I remember hitting was at Marine Park when I was 8 and playing for the Bonnies against Bergen Beach (which was NOT a good team). I was a good shortstop and hitting in the 8-hole all year (to give you an idea of my hitting ability) and I had just recently bought a new TPX bat that was black with red and gold lettering. I was a singles hitter mostly and everyone knew it (since we played the same 4 or 5 teams several times), so the outfield was playing pretty shallow. Well, I finally connected on a high fastball and sent it over the centerfielder's head and it kept rolling and rolling. Man, I loved that bat.

10. I have had some pretty bad injuries playing baseball. When I was 8 or 9 (Bonnies) I got a concussion in practice. We were practicing throwing down to second on steals and I was covering second when one of my teammates came barrelling in without sliding. He was wearing a helmet, I was not and helmet-to-head collisions usually wind up bad for your head. Later when I was 9 I fractured a growth plate in my right shoulder from overthrowing. When you pitch the day after a practice that featured steady long-tossing you better be older than 9. I missed the rest of that season and my fastball was never the same again.

My worst, or at least most immediately awful-looking, injury from baseball was when I was 11. Once again it was at practice, and we were practicing pickoff throws to second. I was a second baseman on that team and when I went to cover second for the throw the sun was directly in my eyes and I couldn't see the ball coming. Unfortunately, the pitcher making the throw was Tommy Costa, the hardest throwing 11 year old I've ever seen, and the ball hit me directly in the face and broke my nose. I didn't realize what happened until I looked down and saw the glove I had been holding to my face was filled with blood. I had a shiner on both eyes for weeks.

11. The worst seats I have ever had at a game were at old Tigers Stadium. My great aunt, Auntie Nan, took me and my sister to a day game and got cheap seats behind the left field wall. The view directly in front of me was a post supporting the upper level. I appreciate the effort though, Auntie Nan.

12. The best team I ever played for was the 10-year old Our Lady of Grace (Gravesend) team. I played right field, because the middle infield positions were already held by players who had been with Grace for a few years (remember, I was a journeyman) and hit second. I hit .480 that year (and probably with a Bonds-ian OBP) and we won our league and the Babe Ruth League qualifying tournament with a remarkable run after losing our first game in a double-elimination tournament. We went to a Babe Ruth League World Series in Frederick, MD (home of the Keys!) facing off against teams from all over the mid-Atlantic and northeast. Standing on a mound of dirt watiting for our coach's speech after the second game we lost (to a team from Buffalo, I think), i.e. the one that eliminated us from the series, is the only time I remember crying after a baseball game.

13. I attended Doc Gooden's no-hitter. I went with my dad and a former coach and teammate. I went to see Griffey and I got to see a former Met great throw a no-hitter...for the Yankees. Still waiting on that Mets no-hitter--Ollie, Johan, somebody?

14. The first time I ever got drunk was in the spring of my freshman year in high school. The next day was the first time I ever played baseball hungover or even had a hangover for that matter. I hit four doubles over the course of a double-header. So, yeah, I understand how David Wells threw a perfect game hungover.

15. I was at Shea in 1999 when Robin Ventura hit a grand slam in both games of a double-header, the only time it's been done in MLB history. The dark secret, of course, is that he hit the first one in the first inning of game one and we were just pulling into the parking lot so I only heard it on the radio. I usually just tell people I was there for both.



16. That '99 Mets team is my favorite team ever. My favorite Met ever is Edgardo Alfonzo, followed by Jose Reyes (clearly I have a soft spot for middle infielders). Maybe my favorite baseball memory is sitting in my parents bed with my mom and dad watching Ventura's "grand single" soar through the raindrops at Shea.

17. I was at the Todd Pratt game. My dad's friend Richie got 4 tickets and my dad drove me and my sister out to the game. We went in while he stayed in the parking lot listening to it on the radio. We sat with Richie and his girlfriend Peg in the last row of the Loge in fair territory by the left-field foul pole. We couldn't see pop-ups and we had to strain our necks down to either side for most of the game. But goddamn if we didn't have a great view of that ball going off Steve Finley's glove. And we went fuckin nuts.

18. My dad taught me and my sister to keep score when we were very young, and we both still do it pretty frequently when we're at a game. However, I've learned that the Trott method of scoring differs slightly from the more popular method: on fly outs rather than putting F8 or F7, etc. we put the number with a circle around it (a circled number with a line under it is a line out).

19. When I was 12 I learned how to throw a curveball, and let me tell you, I threw a wicked fucking curveball. I never blew my fastball past people at that point (see #10), but I kept hitters off balance with a mix of pitches. This was the age when kids were just starting to throw curves and nobody knew how to hit them, so I was a pretty effective pitcher. As I got older and kids learned to adjust to the curve, though, that lack of great velocity did me in.

20. I was at the Jeter-Mr. November game and I was probably the only one in the stdaium rooting for the Diamondbacks. 9/11 or no, I was sticking to my principles. Later in that series I broke my World History textbook in half when I threw it on the floor after Soriano hit that go-ahead homer in game 7. That game 4 and that series were outstanding.



21. My dad got two season tickets down the third base line for the inaugural season of the Brooklyn Cyclones. That team, that season, that setting was totally electric that year. I caught a couple of t-shirts thrown into the crowd over the course of the season, and I thought Party Marty was awesome. Only later did I find out that he was a jerk (except that I found that out from my friend Timmy, who, in Party Marty's defense, had just run out onto the field uninvivted for the singing of Happy Birthday even though it wan't his birthday and he was a good 6 years older than everyone else out there).

22. I am pretty sabermetrically-oriented as a baseball fan, but have only become that way over the last few years. I remember my dad telling me a number of years ago that the most important baseball stat, in his opinion, was RBIs and it made total sense to me at the time. Of course, as my knowledge of the game has progressed I now find myself disagreeing with my dad about baseball more and more frequently. I bought him Rob Neyer's Big Book of Baseball Legends and I don't think he got the point. We do seem to agree on our generally positive regard for Tim Marchman and on the fact that Omar Minaya is not very good at his job.

23. I have gone to one baseball game by myself: this one. It was during the summer of 2006 when I was temping at the Pfizer gym and I really wanted to go to a game, but couldn't get anyone to go with me. I went anyway and got a $5 box down the right field line in the upper deck, but moved down closer to the infield in the first row of the mezzanine. Before the game started an usher came to check the tickets of a group of guys a section over from me who had done the same thing and made them leave, but he left me alone because I was by myself. Reyes hit for the cycle, Jose Valentin hit a homer to put the Mets ahead in the 7th (he hit lefty against a lefty which was pretty cool), and then Billy Wagner blew what had been an awesome game in the 9th. I think I might try going to a game by myself again some time soon.

24. I took batting lessons for several years from a man named Mel Zitter out at the batting cages in Funstation USA on Victory Blvd. in Staten Island. Mel had been one of Manny Ramirez' coaches when Manny was a kid in Washington Heights and played for Youth Service (a team I played against most of my childhood). Mel never missed an opportunity to remind you that he had coached Manny and he always sort of bothered me. The longish drive combined with Mel's annoyingness and the fact that my hitting wasn't really improving made me dread those lessons. One of my happiest afternoons is when my dad's vanagon ran out of gas getting off the Staten Island Expressway and we missed the lesson.

Addendum: It was while taking a batting lesson from Mel that a film crew from Channel 7 Eyewitness News taped me taking swings in the cage (while still wearing my Catholic scool khakis) and played it during a report about the dangers of aluminum bats in high school baseball. My parents have a tape of that somewhere.

25. I quit playing baseball after the summer between my sophomore and junior years in high school. I had played JV the year before, but I didn't make the varsity my junior year and I was really disheartened. I mean REALLY disheartened. I decided on the day I didn't see myself on the roster posted outside Coach Duffel's office that I was done playing baseball. It took me a few months to tell my dad, and he was so mad we didn't speak for several weeks. Baseball had consumed my life, but I had been so focused on playing it that I didn't really like it that much at that point. It felt like it had become a burden and more my father's hobby than my own. I sometimes regret quitting, not knowing if I did so on my own terms. But now I think I like baseball more. It's something to enjoy in my spare time, something I still get wrapped up in but can also ignore or follow as I please. It's still the thing that best connects me and my father. And anyway I wasn't really THAT good.

Bonus Fact: Boyce and I spent the better part of an hour smoking cigarettes with Cliff Floyd's little brother Julius during a game at PNC Park a couple years ago. Boyce won a trip to Pittsburgh from a text trivia thing at Shea, and I think I freaked Julius out when I asked if his family called his brother Cornelius.

Movie Review: Taken

Well, Etro was in town this weekend, which means we watched a bunch of movies. When you grow up with someone and live with them for 17+ years it's sometimes just better to watch a movie than to try to come up with new things to talk about. Aside from watching about 20 or so movies on demand we actually got off our asses and went to the theater to see Taken. Here are my impressions of that movie:




Taken was the story of Liam Neeson trying to get back his stupid-ass daughter after she got kidnapped in Paris. Why was she in Paris? Well it was her first stop in a summer trip around Europe to follow a U2 tour. Fucking serves her right. Just goes to show what I've always said: Bono is behind the majority of sex trafficking in the world. Also, if you want to go sing Vertigo at the top of your lungs with a bunch of 36 year old mongoloids you deserve to be pumped with heroin and sold to Albanian dockworkers.

So, anyway, Liam Neeson is a former CIA guy or something and he basically turns into Jason Bourne, going around Paris beating the shit out of people. It is a very simple film that delivers exactly what you expect; I expected awesome and I got it.

The good stuff:

-Liam Neeson shooting a former French colleague's wife in the arm to get information out of him. "It's only a flesh wound!"

-Liam Neeson lying under a dead body to hide before shooting another guy. "I don't know if you remember me. We talked on the phone two days ago. I told you I would find you."

-Liam Neeson forcing a little French douchebag to get hit by a truck.

-Liam Neeson taking out an entire boat full of Arabian guards using his fists, broken bottles and occasionally firearms.

-You get the idea.

The bad stuff:

-I find it hard to believe that it's really more cost efficient for the Paris Albanian mob to kidnap tourists than to transport girls from Albania to be whores. I get that they save on transportation cost, but kidnapping citizens from actual countries would bring on a lot of political pressure from other nations to stop this nonsense, right? I gotta assume that the extra attention from law enforcement would outweigh the costs of trucks from Albania.

-The daughter is annoying as shit. She's not hot, she acts and dresses like a 12 year old (she's supposed to be 17), she likes U2, she likes horses (WTF?! she's supposed to be 17!), she wants to be a singer (not happening with that body, sweetheart), ans she whines like a little bitch when Liam Neeson hesitates to let her go to Europe on her own. Hey guess what, maybe you should have listened to your dad, because you are now a smackwhore.

-Lack of hot female character. Sure you had Famke Janssen as the mother, but that was only a bit part. And the daughter's friend was hot, but she was a minor character too.

-That singer at the beginning could have shown a little more gratitude towards Liam Neeson for saving her life. Yaknowhati'msaying?

All in all, the good outweighs the bad in taken. It was a laugh-a-minute thrill ride or something. Ignore the parts that don't really make sense and just try to enjoy Liam Neeson shooting that chick in the arm, God that was great. I give this a 3.9 out of 4.7 on the dtro scale of goodness. Yeah, I changed the scale, so what? It's my scale I can do with it as I please. You don't like it you can go read something else you ungrateful prick. Wait! Wait, where are you going? Come back, you're my only reader! I was kidding. Please come back. Please. And tell your friends.

Anabolex Roidriguez

Hey guys, I don't know if you've heard the news, but...wait are you sitting down? Wait for it...

ARod did steroids!



That's right. A famous baseball player did steroids. This fresh faced young Mariner you see above will one day take a bunch of steroids and hit a bunch of homeruns and such. Here are some quick thoughts about all this:

1)That sucks. It would have been nice for ARod to break Bonds' homerun record and be clean. At least now we'll have a cheater who was slightly less of an asshole than Barry Lamar.

2) Who cares? I really don't need to read a bunch of shithead baseball writers fume about legacies and the history and integrity of baseball. If I hear one more guy bitch and moan about how betrayed they feel by Mark and Sammy, and Bonds and ARod so fucking help me God. Look, I love baseball, and it's pretty clear that a lot of players were cheating for at least a decade (AKA my entire childhood).That sucks and it really bothered me. But as writers go on and on about steroids, and George Mitchell leads an "investigation," and the government wastes everyone's fucking time and money going afer Bonds and Clemens I just cannot care any more. So fuck it.

3)How awesome would it be if Jeter was one of the other 104 players on the list. God that would be great. I think a number of baseball hacks' heads would explode. Or Eckstein, that would crack me up.

4)God I hope they never catch Piazza.

5)Clearly everyone who has ever been on the Rangers did steroids. Pudge, Palmeiro, ARod, Juan Gon, Canseco, Kevin Elster, Rusty Greer, etc. If anyone has ever played for the Rangers they have done steroids. It's science.

6)It really makes no damn sense to try and keep some guys out of the Hall of Fame just because they were caught. McGwire never got caught. Barry Bonds never actually failed a test as far as I know. It's pretty obvious that fucking everyone was doing steroids and trying to guess who was clean is retarded. Did anyone really suspect ARod before this? No, so just because we don't really suspect Griffey or Frank Thomas or Piazza or Maddux or Pedro or Manny doesn't mean they are more deserving of the Hall of Fame than ARod, Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, or Clemens. Nobody knows, so just compare them to their peers not to what you suspect they might have been or might have done.

7)Wow, the MLB players union really sucks. Way to protect those anonymous samples guys. This seems like a huge fuck up on their part. Still, they're miles better than the NFL players union, which mandates that you play with concussions and gives you a pat on the back after you retire and $40-50 for every post-career stroke (depending on the severity of your resuslting paralysis).

8)Fuck the Yankees!

If you want to read something insightful and pretty much dead on about this whole mess check out this post from ShysterBall.

Thoughts on StealerBowl XLIII

That is an incomplete pass. I'm pretty sure the refs called it a fumble figuring that if they were wrong at least it was a reviewable play. And then they didn't review it, and the Steelers snapped the ball and one of the most exciting quarters in Super Bowl history was quickly and confusedly ended with the Stealers on top. Goodell sent his henchmen up to the booth to strong-arm Al Michaels into making up something about the officials reviewing it in the booth to cover up the obvious fuck up.

Would the Cardinals have scored on a Hail Mary? No, probably not, but they'd have a better shot than pretty much any team in the league with Fitzgerald and the added field position from James Harrison taking off his helmet. Basically, the NFL decided that instead of giving millions of people an exciting ending to a potentially epic Super Bowl, they would just give the Steelers another ring and leave us all muttering and annoyed.

Good work NFL!

And how come the last 2 years the Super Bowl has sucked until the 4th quarter? Yes, they both wound up being exciting games, but for 2+ hours they were garbage. NFL coaches need to sack up and start playing no-huddle offenses earlier in games, because it's excruciating to watch the first 3 quarters. If I only wanted to watch a little bit of exciting play at the end of a game I would start giving a shit about the NBA.

And the commercials mostly sucked, especially the Polamalu-Mean Joe Greene take off. Good God that was a bad idea. Were Super Bowl commercials ever actually good, or is that some sort of amazing and all-pervasive urban legend that has seeped into everyone's subconscious.

And one more thing: can we stop with this nonsense about Ben Roethlisberger being good? How many times did I hear, "He's not a great quarterback, he's a great football player!"? Or "you can't look at his numbers. Look at the wins"? Oh, so he's a great football player who happens to suck at the position he plays? No, Ben Roethlisberger is a fucking horrible QB on whom I wasted a high fantasy pick and therefore hate. He sucks, he is just on a team with an awesome defense. This "football player" stuff is like when people call someone like Darin Erstad a "baseball player." Technically, yes, those are their professions. But they are bad at their jobs and just happened to win a title or two based on the abilities of their teammates. Fuck Ben Roethlisberger.

Movie Reviews: Frost/Nixon

It is difficult to review a movie that you thought was good, so I didn't get around to doing this until more than a week since I went to see Frost/Nixon. Really, I wish I had done this blogging thing back when I saw Juno, because I could have summoned thousands of words of pure vitriol after seeing that shitbasket. Anyhoo, here are my thoughts on Frost/Nixon:

Frank Langella was awesome. I haven't seen The Wrestler yet, although I want to, but Mickey Rourke better blow my fucking mind if he's going to deserve the best actor Oscar. I obviously have no memories of Richard Nixon, but Langella seems to have captured a certain slimy charisma that I assume is pretty representative of the man.

This movie really should have just been called Nixon and Occasionally Frost, because Langella just destroys everyone else in the movie. I only know Michael Sheen as Tony Blair in The Queen (where he was pretty good), but he basically doesn't have a character to play in this movie. If this movie was meant to be a showdown between two opposing forces then maybe Ron Howard or the script writers should have taken a little time to make David Frost into a character, not just some random British guy with sideburns who happens to be on TV and only speaks as a reaction to the superior characters surrounding him.

Sam Rockwell was good as the researcher who hates Richard Nixon. Probably his best performance since Charlie's Angels, although it lags slightly behind his one line in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

I didn't really get the point of the whole docu-drama elements of the movie. Just tell the story stright up without the useless taking head bits thrown in--they detracted from the movie.

I don't know if the point was to get me to feel sorry for Richard Nixon, but that basically was the outcome of watching this movie. We get that he's a scumbag, but he a likeable scumbag and the whole movie therefore comes off as a little too sympathetic towards him.

All in all a very good movie. Probably the only Ron Howard movie I have liked besides Apollo 13. I give it a 3.8/4 on the dtro scale of good.

Land of the NOT SO Free

Alright, LCT sent this to me a couple weeks ago and I finally got around to posting it. This is a persuasive (and boy is it ever!) essay written by KK Hollidae when she was in high school. I say this with no hyperbole and with my tongue outside my cheek: this is the single greatest piece of writing ever written by human hands. I'll add my thoughts after every paragraph because we all know that's why you're here--to know my thoughts on all things great and small. And because it's like six pages and we need breaks every now and then.

Land of the Not So Free
America is the homeland of freedom, the land of opportunity, the protected earth of liberty and justice. However, is our nation truly as righteous and just as we all believe? Presently, the laws of the government are set up so that a 16 year old living in Belgium, or France, or Germany, or Italy, or Spain, the lists goes on and on, has more rights than a 20 year old in the US. How then is this country viewed as the land of the free? In this country, a citizen must be 21 years of age in order to legally consume any alcoholic beverage (United). This law is unjust and demeaning of human rights. If America truly is the country of freedom, then the minimum drinking age must be 18 and not 21.

"The protected earth of liberty and justice." That is some badass shit right there. No beating around the bush for KK, as she goes right in listing the Commie Pinko countries that let you drink as a toddler and even has a source reference. Who is her source? UNITED- THAT'S WHO!

The United States and only three other countries in the entire world have the minimum drinking age at 21 years old, and the US is the only country out of the four who enforces this law. Almost every single other country has the minimum age at 18 or below (Legal). Why is it that a 20 year old citizen of the US is not considered to be as mature as a 16 year old citizen of, fore say, France, Spain, Germany, or Great Britain? How is it that a 16 year old in Europe is considered responsible enough to consume an alcoholic beverage, but a 20 year old American is not? Either the teenagers across seas are more mature and trusting than American teens, or the US government is too strict when it comes to alcohol.

Lots of good stuff here. "Fore say," is not a phrase that I have heard of, but I will definitely be using it in every paper I write from now on (assuming I go back to college). I'm not sure why Euroteens would have to be more "trusting" to be allowed to drink, but hey that's the point. THEY'RE NOT! So let us drink! 5 years ago! Also, what the hell are these sources? LEGAL, UNITED...those are just words.

Moreover, the United States government has given alcohol a “special ness that it does not deserve” (Chafetz 710). In many European countries alcohol is viewed as an important part of culture. For example, the minimum drinking age in France is 16. However, it would not be unusual for a 15 year old to have a glass of wine at dinner. In fact its expected that children view wine as an important part of French traditions (Legal). Where as in America, wine and alcohol are viewed as highly destructive drugs. When will Americans realize that by viewing alcohol negatively makes teens want to drink more?

There really is a certain ness around drinking when you're a teen. I can't put my finger on it exactly, but it is definitely a special ness. Also, let's not get into French culture here, because French children accept as part of their culture homosexual intercourse and making ape noises at the athletically superior Africans who make up their nation's sports teams.

Alcohol should not be a complete mystery for teenagers. Most teenagers drink because an alcoholic beverage is some unknown, adult only substance that is illegal and frowned upon. Parents should allow their curious child a sip of wine at dinner. That way the child would experience alcohol in a supervised environment as apposed to a wild and unsafe party. Andrew Struttaford states that “intelligent parents do not let alcohol become a big deal, a mystery, or a battleground” (24). The more people emphasize the downfalls of drinking, the more teenagers are driven to drink.

Yea, this makes sense to me. Good points KK!

Many people argue that since the minimum drinking age was raised from 19 to 21 years old, alcohol related accidents have decreased. This is true, and is mainly the reason so many people feel that the higher age is beneficial. However, this decrease began in 1980, which was before the drinking age was changed. Therefore the decline is due to other factors, not the change in the age limit (Engs 2). Since 1980, students in school have been educated strongly about the effects of drunk driving, cars have become equipped with airbags and seat belts, speed limits have been lowered, and there are free taxi services from drinking establishments. All these factors combined are what caused the decline of accidents.

What bar has a free taxi service? Is this some Ohio thing? because, if so, I still don't want to move there. And KK missed a great chance at using my favorite new phrase. It should read "Therefore the decline is due to other factors like, fore say, airbags..."

Another arguable point is the drinking and driving issues. In other countries it is much harder to receive a drivers license. Also many people do not own or drive cars, instead they use buses or taxis. This provides a problem considering that most teens in the US do drive and there are much higher accident rates compared between the US and European countries. However, a better solution to underage drinking and driving should not be to raise the drinking age. Instead, it would be much more effective if the government would give harsher punishments to drunk drivers, especially young drivers (Stuttaford 24). Teenagers would think more than twice about getting in a car after consuming an alcoholic beverage, if they knew that the punishment would change their lives. The government should stop focusing on the issues of underage drinking and should focus instead on the penalties for DUIs.

If this was really the land of the free, the protected earth of liberty and justice, then drunk drivers would be drawn and quartered or sent to live in leper colonies. It's really only fair.

Also, many people argue the government’s purpose for a high drinking age is a matter of safety. On the contrary, by lowering the age limit to 18, an 18 year old would actually be safer. Teens will continue to drink whether it is illegal or not. A survey was taken at East Carolina University in the same year that the drinking age was raised. They were asked how this age change would effect their alcohol consumption. 5% intended to stop drinking; 9% decided to use other drugs stating that “its easier to hide pot then a 6-pack of beer,” as one student wrote; 16% planned on getting false id’s; and 70% of the students planned on just changing their drinking location (Hanson 34). This age change has done nothing positive, instead it challenges teens to break the law. So, if it was legal to drink at 18, then teens would be drinking in safer, supervised places. They also would not hesitate to take a drunk friend to the hospital if the friend was in severe condition, because they would not worry about getting into trouble with the police or parents.

Well played East Carolina guy from the 80s, well played. I totally agree with KK on this. When I see a law it's like a challenge. Unless they change the legal manslaughter age to 22, I am going to consider it a personal challenge from the US government to slaughter one man every week until my demands are met. You have been warned government. (On a personal note: my friends had no problem taking me to a hospital when I was drunk as shit at the age of 16-- leading to a police cruiser stopping by my house, my parents grounding me for 3+ months, and the loss of my bowl. I still miss you, Spicy Virginia.)

Additionally, by telling teenagers they can not drink, their desire for alcohol increases. Teens are more likely to rebel against a law that tells them what they can not do. Andrew Stuttaford also holds a similar opinion. He strongly believes that “adult disapproval magically transforms that margarita from a simple pleasure into an especially thrilling act of rebellion” (24). When the drinking age was raised from 18 to 19, a NY State survey found that it had made no significant difference in the under-age students consumption rates, drinking attitudes, or drinking problems. In fact a similar survey in Texas was taken and it found that the underage drinking rates increased (Hanson 34). This just proves that when a teenager is told he or she can not have something, it makes him or her want to have it even more.

This seems like we're going over the same ground again, but I do agree that laws should not tell you what you can not do. Laws should say what you can do. Fore say, the law shouldn't say you can not commit murder, it should say you CAN not-commit-murder. I've been not-committing-murder for most of my life. And a margarita can't be a thrilling act of rebellion. It's more like a complement to an uncomfortable birthday dinner with friends where you get stuck sitting next to people you don't know that well. A stuntman shot--now there's rebellion.

To really benefit teenagers, responsible drinking behaviors should be taught to teens, instead of just telling them not to drink (Engs 2). If teens are taught safe responsible drinking habits, then when it does come the time that they are offered a drink, they will drink in moderation. This also would teach teens responsibility. At age 16 a teenager is allowed to risk his or her own life and the lives of the hundreds that are also on the roads. Driving is an extremely large responsibility, and yet parents are willing to allow their children to do so. Unsafe driving is just as dangerous and deadly as unsafe drinking. Yet there is a five year difference between the two. For the same reasons a parent allows a child to learn responsible driving habits, a parent should also allow a child to learn responsible drinking habits .

If the drinking age were changed, parents could teach their kids responsible drinking and responsible driving habits, yes. More importantly, though, they would be able to teach teens responsible drinking and driving habits. Drinking and driving is only unsafe if you are bad at it and the drinking age really exacerbates this problem.

One more final point, the government has made all other adult privileges at the age of 18 except for the privilege of consuming an alcoholic beverage. The 26th Amendment to the US constitution is known as the “Age of Majority”. As of this year, 2002, the law stands that at age 18 one has all the same rights of a person above the age of 21 except when dealing with alcohol (Chafetz 710). By separating the alcohol privileges from the rest, an 18 year is losing their human rights of being a citizen of the United States.

Fuck yea, KK! Preach it sister! We want(ed) our goddamn human rights. We are NOT SO FREE! Also, I think that I will start referring to myself as a major since I am over 18. Yea, Major Trott. I like the sound of that.

The government is hypocritical; they say that 18 year olds are considered adults, yet they label them as children when it comes to alcohol. At age 18, one is allowed to get married, but is not allowed to toast to their new wife or husband with a glass of champagne. At age 18 one can be drafted for the war, but is not allowed to enjoy a beer with other adult friends. At age 18, one is allowed to smoke deadly cigarettes, which can be just as damaging as alcohol, or in some cases worse; yet still one is not allowed enjoy the simple satisfaction of a margarita until three years later. At age 18, one is allowed to vote; so at 18 their opinions are valued, and essential for major nationwide decisions, but they hold no rights to drink alcohol. At age 18, one is trialed as an adult and can receive such a punishment as the death penalty, but is considered no more mature then a mere, helpless child when it comes to alcohol. At age 18, a woman has the right to abort her own child without parental consent, and yet she can not decide on her own to have a cocktail. At age 18, one can buy a double-barrel rifle, which basically gives that person the power to end any form of life, but that same person can not buy a harmless 6-pack of beer. Does anything seem a bit wrong with that? How are 18 year olds considered responsible enough to own a deadly, murderous weapon such as a sniper, but are not responsible enough to own a can of beer? The thought is unimaginable. 18 year olds can also sign contracts, ignore curfews, see x-rated movies, be kicked out of their own homes legally, and are eligible for many more job opportunities. However, the law states that they are not ready to consume any form of alcohol (Smith 88). The restriction on alcohol until age 21 belittles a 18-year-olds place in society. It is the one thing that keeps them from being considered fully developed independent adults.

I almost don't want to say anything. That's just about the greatest thing I have ever read. Abortions, job opportunities, "the simple satisfaction of a margarita": this is a truly outstanding paragraph. 18 year olds can't drink, but they can OWN a sniper. That's the deadliest form of human chattel out there, but an 18 year old with a personal sniper can't enjoy the cool contentment of a mojito, the regal refreshment of some Crown Royal, or the glorious gratification of a slippery nipple.

Also, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a "double-barrel rifle," but it's nice to know that within my reach is "power to end any form of life." If I had a gun I'd shoot trees, cats, British people, moss, amoebas, children with harelips, hummingbirds....the list goes on and on. And it's good to know that as a major I am legally allowed to ignore my curfew.

In conclusion, having the minimum alcohol consumption age set at 21 derides the rights of adults. 18 year olds are adults, and they need to be treated as adults, with all adult privileges. How can this country be viewed as the land of the free? A 20 year old receives an exceedingly harsh punishment if caught having had a sip of a cocktail. Whereas at the same time across the ocean, a 16 year old German girl can be binge drinking to the point where she passes out and not receive any punishment at all. If America truly was the land where freedom lives, then the drinking age would be 18. Our Lady of Liberty would be ashamed that her once free land has lost the justice and righteousness that it formerly held.

Thoughts:
The motherhumping constitution is deriding your rights new majors!

Our Lady of Liberty sounds like a pilgrimage site where some little girl named Fatima saw a vision of the Madonna on Cinco de Mayo in the foothills outside Mexico City.

A passed out German girl receives the harshest punishment of all: men filming themselves shitting on her chest (German porn is sick).

KK, you truly outdid yourself with this paper. I salute you for having the bravery to envision a land in which teens are not derided or deprived of their human rights; instead they will, fore say, proudly drive drunk well, toast their abortions, and use their snipers to kill anything they damn well please while revelling in the drinkability of Bud Light.

Movie Review: Slumdog Millionaire and Last Chance Harvey

Ok, so as not to be unfair to Benjamin Button, I have decided to review the other two movies I saw while at home over the break:



The first is Slumdog Millionaire, which, like Benjamin Button, is a leading contender for a Best Picture Oscar nomination. Unlike Benjamin Button, it is probably deserving, because it is a good movie that did not piss me off (those, of course, being the main criteria the Academy looks at).

Here is what is good about the movie:

The setup. It's basically a poor kid (Jamal) from the slums of Mumbai who makes it all the way to the final question on the Indian version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Except that he only gets there because the specific questions he is asked all pertain to his life in some way. Essentially, the movie is a series of flashbacks that explain how he knows the answer to the previous question and these flashbacks put together add up to the kid's life story. Effective and interesting way to tell the story.

The setting. The movie bascially travels through the slums of Mumbai and various other places in India. The wide views of Mumbai and other places are cool looking, and I especially liked the sequence where the two brothers basically lived on the roofs of trains travelling all over India. Unlike Benjamin Button which hints at hurricane Katrina, and uses specific references ("Hey, how bout this N'Orlins weather! Am I right? Remember how we are in New Orleans right now in this movie here?!") and horrible southern accents by Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett to tell you it's in New Orleans, Slumdog Millionaire actually is set somewhere and it shows you. Also, based on this movie India is fucked up.

The story. That's pretty general I guess, but it really is just a good movie overall. It's like an epic on a smaller scale than Benjamin Button. Slumdog Millionaire is just trying to tell a story and it runs the gamut of emotions over the course of Jamal's life to that point (he is only 18), but mostly it is just entertaining and interesting. It gets to the emotions and it makes you happy and sad and such, but it doesn't try to smack you over the head with morals or themes for the most part. Benjamin Button, on the other hand, taught me about the impermanence of life and to cherish the happy moments and shit, but that was the problem. It just fucking TOLD ME THAT in scene after scene toward the middle/end parts of the movie and it just dragged on and made sure it fucking preached to me about transience and love and the transience of love. The beginning of the movie was just sort of telling a story about a weird guy who is aging backwards and it was entertaining and interesting---that is what all of Slumdog Millionaire is like.

Here is what is bad about the movie:

These are all sort of minor quibbles, because overall I thought it was a very good movie (although it's been sort of critically overhyped).

The questions: I know nothing about Indian culture obviously, but it seemed to me that Who Wants to be an Indian Millionaire is the easiest game show of all time. Does anyone know about cricket? Who has the most centuries? That seems like who has the most homeruns or something. Am I wrong? C'mon. And the last question was so retardedly easy that it took away the aspect of suspense when Jamal locked in his final answer.

Honestly, did neither of these people get any play over the course of their lives. Jamal and the girl, whose name I can't remember at the moment, were all about each other since they were like 9 years old. F'real Jamal, you couldn't pull a bit a slash when you were running scams around the Taj Mahal? Those Mahal girls give it up like whoa!

Joe Pesci. Or should I say, the Indian version of Regis Philbin, because he looked like the Indian version of Joe Pesci. Actually, he should probabaly be listed on the positive side. He was more like Goodfellas Joe Pesci than Gone Fishin' Joe Pesci, but any Joe Pesci is usually a negative. Still unclear.




Here is good things:

The premise of the movie was a bit unorthodox for a RomCom. A wedding, yes, but one where the Father of the Bride* did not seem particularly welcome and makes himself awkward immediately by constantly talking on the phone in the same way my Dad would (i.e. holding the phone across his face [i.e. putting it in his right hand and holding it to his left ear]).

The actors: Dustin Hoffman, despite his SHORTcomings (haha he's short!), seems like a good actor and so does Emma Thompson, whom you might know from those movies you've never seen.

The subplot with the mother and the Polack is kinda funny, I guess.

Here is bad:

I saw a review on Rotten Tomatoes that said something like, "at the very least this movie proves that you're never too old to do a trying-on-dresses montage." Yeah, that's pretty accurate. This is not a groundbreaking movie, ok. We are dealing with a pretty typical romantic comedy plot, spiced up by the addition of... nothing in particular.

Dustin Hoffman is 317 years old, but he looks 400 at best. Not to mention the fact that he is legally a midget in 37 out of the 50 states. It's hard to buy him as a romantic lead.

Syphilis: it's a danger when entering into any relationship. Even a fictional cinema one--this was not fully adressed.

Conclusions: Slumdog is 3.7 out of 4 stars. Harvey is 2.6, so as to be ranked above Benjamin Button. If you have to see one movie and one movie only this January, though, you should probably go rent In Bruges.








* Steve Martin can suck a big fat dick

Hey Brett! Fuck your Mom

Hey you. Yeah you, retarded hick boy. I'm talking to you. I am somewhere between drunk and hungover from tailgating right now so I may not be thinking that clearly. But there's something I want to say to you: Eat a bag of cancerous dicks.

Maybe I am not making myself clear. I want you to consume all sorts of unthinkably disgusting and harmful things so that you might have some idea what it is like to watch you one-arm gunslings to the goddamn Dolphins all day. Remember when you put on that green jersey this afternoon? It was right after the bowl of grape nuts and the massage and before you and Mangenius decided to stick your fists up the metaphorical anuses of thousands of fans and then extend your middle fingers. Yea, that jersey. Everyone else on your team was wearing the same color, and that's the color you were supposed to aim your passes at.

Listen Grizzly McAmerica'sPlayer, this Jets season was hard for me. I had already turned against you at least a year ago. I understand why you have been so popular. You had that down-home-aww-shucks-mister-I-juss-wanna-play-me-some-football thing going. You seemed like a nice enough guy and your dad died and whatever. You inspired people like Forrest Gump and Corky from that show I don't remember. Everyone thought, "Hey if this monkey-brained fucker can be good at football, maybe there's hope for us all." I get it, but I wasn't on board.

For one, Peanut had already shoved the goddamn Favre DVD down my throat, so I was set. Did I need to know about your upbringing in Kiln and how your Uncle Cletus molested you when you were nine? No. Did I make up one of those facts? No.* Not to mention the freaking media acted like you were motherfuckin Mother fuckin Teresa or some shit. I hadn't realized that you were the only football player in the history of feet and balls who LOVED football. You were a gunslinger. You played like a kid out there. You played with the passion of a million suns burning on the summer solstice. Fuck that. You were never any more special than the media made you out to be. You were like a gunslinger who occasionally misfired and shot his friends in the femoral artery. You played like a kid who was too stupid to realize that crippling interceptions were bad for your team.

So obviously, Brett, I was already sort of heading down the road of not liking you. These are not new opinions of mine, but even if I was getting sick of you I still had a soft spot I guess. I mean you were Brett Favre! And then you pulled the retirement schtick for a couple of years. Are you? Aren't you? What's going on with Brett? You basically said "Hey, ESPN et al., please stroke my cock while I hold hostage the organization that has paid me exorbitant amounts of money to sometimes successfully throw an oblong ball at massively-more-athletic black guys. And remember it is only because I LOVE THE GAME that I am so torn about whether or not to take steroids** and accept some more millions to be slobbered on all over again by you sycophantic fucks."

So I was done with you basically. I appreciated that you were a great player. A hall-of-famer if that means anything in football. You won a pretty memorable super bowl and lost a more memorable one. But that was it. The gunslinging and the all-American plays-like-a-kid Kornheiserisms were grating enough without you actually acting like a dick. And then you pulled the shit again this offseason and Ted Thompson grew a pair and said "Hey Brett! Fuck your Mom. We're going with Rodgers." Good for you Ted. I liked that, I agreed with that. I wanted you end up on the Vikings so that even Packers fans would have to root against you and grudgingly accept the fact that you were a dick. And then what did you do...

You up and got traded to the J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets. The Jets. My Jets. My football team with its mediocre history and its mild expectations. The Jets, who could basically be ignored by the media, chill out in the Giants' shadow, and hopefully make it to their biannual playoff loss. You fucker. Now tickets were twice as pricey and your jerseys were selling like hotcakes (great investment Timmy and Plunkett) and everyone was watching the Jets and picking them for the playoffs and so forth. Every story related to the NFL was about how you were doing and how Aaron Rodgers was doing filling in those titanic-sized shoes of yours. Every MNF broadcast was Tony Kornheiser talking about you, no matter how tangential or inane. It was like he was playing that game from Super Troopers where the guy had to say "Meow" but instead he had to say "Favre" and then wait to see how long the football viewing publice would turn on him. Basically, you fucked shit up for me.

Now I'm living down in DC, Brett, so I didn't get to watch many of your games. I could phase you out as the Mets collapsed, and my college career collapsed, and other shit was happening. And then you had that game against the Patriots on a Thursday night. And I checked you and the Jets out down at Continental and there was a Pats fan and I got caught up in the game and the Jets won! In overtime! We stuck it to those Boston fucks! This was going to be our year! I thought, hey maybe I can get behind this Jets team despite the presence of Favre. This could be the best team I've seen since Vinny Testaverde was throwing shotputs over the middle to Keyshawn. The very sadness that is having Testaverde and Keyshawn as your best football memories MADE me want to get beind this Jets team. And then you beat the undefeated Titans. Best team in the AFC! NY-NY Superbowl! Well that's what ESPN was saying, and although I saw that that was pretty dumb I really thought this was a hell of a team and maybe I can learn to like this Favre character after all. And then...

Look, you just fucking sucked, ok. There's no point breaking down every game or each mistake. You fucking sucked and if Dick Jauron and JP Losman hadn't already gotten their checks from Roger Goodell to keep you in the playoff hunt you would have lost five straight games to finish the year. That is fucking weak in and of itself, but when you lose to the Niners and Seahawks and Broncos (no offense Pank)...c'mon. You collapsed, and that is hard for me right now. There is a big difference between being a Pirates or a Raiders fan, for instance, and being a Mets and Jets fan. The former people know going in that their team sucks. The might make a random signing or two and glean some false hope, and then the season begins and they watch and they say "Oh yeah, it's the Pirates/Raiders/Whoever. We suck. Now I will go be a productive and useful member of society." The Mets and Jets, however, play pretty well. They do enough to stay competitive year-in year-out and keep the fans interested. And you watch them and they're playing pretty well...hey, look, they're leading the division! All they have to do is win a couple games against some crappy teams and they're in the playoffs. And then they shit the bed. They just have explosive fountainous bouts of diarrhea, and it's all over the pillowcases and the headboard and everything. And I feel like I have wasted so much time and thought and money on these fucking teams, and then they just throw on some steel-toed boots and kicks me in the nuts as a thanks for all that.

But it's worse today, Brett. And it's worse because it's your fault. You sucked and you dragged the Jets down, and Chad Pennington gets a home game against the Ravens next weekend because you were horrible. And you are not a Jet. This is not some TrueYankeeism-type nonsense I'm talking about. This is the Jets. They are the Mets. They are the second team, the overlooked team, the team that sneaks up on you and wins and you go how the fuck did they win. They are an underdog. But, Brett you are the ultimate fucking overdog. You can't sneak up on anyone because at all times you are followed by a retinue of bootlickers with cameras and microphones. You never belonged on my team and I never even liked you any way. And then you were here and you got my hopes up, and you dashed them.

YOU did that, Brett. You ruined the whole goddamn season, and you're gonna do it again next year for some similar-minded sports fan in Buffalo or Seattle or somewhere when you unretire again. You dick.

*Actually yes.

** So Roger Clemens was pretty clearly cheating. He went to the Astros and still had the heat and had a sub-2 ERA at the age of 42 or so. And people were sort of talking about this way before the Mitchell Report. But Brett Favre looks completely and utterly washed up for a couple years, comes back with the fastball, and has one of his best years ever leading the Packers to the NFC Championship at the age of 38 and I hear nothing. Good thing only baseball has a steroid problem, because if NFL players took steroids I know who I'd suspect.

Movie Review: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

When I'm home I go to the movies a lot with my mother and sister. Case in point, I went to see Benjamin Button on Christmas afternoon. Here is the review I wrote last night at 3 in the morning when I was drunk. And remember it's easier to be negative than positive:


I saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button on Christmas afternoon. I was with my mom and sister and I hadn’t seen the Cobble Hill theater that crowded since sometime back in 261 days (like maybe on the day I saw Batman & Robin for Tyler Didin’s Birthday). Anyway here are the good things about Benjamin Button:

The premise is cool. A man who gets yougner instead of older. That’s pretty original, and you can vaguely recognize Brad Pitt’s face in the little mini-oldman version of Benjamin. It looks pretty cool and I gotta give it up for that.

Cate Blanchett is pretty hot. I always thought of Cate Blanchett as Queen Elizabeth and shit. In this movie she’s a ballerina and shit, and frankly she seems like she’s a pretty attractive woman.
Julia Ormond is in this, which is pretty random. First Knight, Legends of the Fall, Benjamin Button. It’s been a while but apparently she is still alive.

The parts where Benjamin is in Murmansk or whatever. I thought the part where he was in Russia in that hotel was pretty good. Tilda Swinton is a good actress and that’s an original setting, so that was something there.

Once again, since I don’t want to be totally negative, the first hour or soo was pretty cool. Actually, all the parts where Benjamin looks old are pretty good. People sort of realize that he’s not the age that he looks, but he still looks old so it’s kinda cool. Old lady is like “Hey, stay away from my granddaughter” and then his ‘mom’ is like “You’re my little boy even if you look really old” and shit. It’s a cool concept.

Here’s what is bad about the movie:

Cate Blanchett is a slut. Yea Daisy, you act like a little slut piece and Benjamin waits for you (sort of). Sounds a lot like Jenny and Forrest Gump, which makes total sense.

The whole scene where Daisy gets injured in Paris: One little thing happens and then it effects this other thing and then this other thing happens and it plays into this series of events and these other things happen and isn’t it crazy how life is like this and all these random small events can add up to a bigger thing and this is HOW LIFE IS!!! No, there’s a movie called Amelie, and it is ALSO set in Paris and it’s actually good. You just ripped it off. Actually, this idea was explored in a movie starring Ashton Kutcher called the Butterfly Effect. If you are copying an Ashton Kutcher movie you are not adding anything to humanity.

I appreciate the fact that this is some sort of modern day fairy tale. This movie does not exist within the exact realm of reality as we know it. However, it takes place over the course of many years, basically covering WWI thru WWII and then the 50s, 60s, etc. Like Forrest Gump, only it started a few decades earlier. Luckily, our hero, Benjamin Button grew up in a 1920s New Orleans that was completely and utterly absent of racism. As we all know it was totally normal to run into black pygmies in 1920s Louisiana and then ride the streetcar with them.

Queenie. Listen, I bought this character for quite a while. And then she degenerated into “black woman stereotype mother.” “Oh Benjamin, yous lookin so good boy. I ams yo MAMA. I thinks you oughta see this Daisy girl. I is no longer a real human being.” (Again, this is my personal opinion so don’t think I am calling the filmmakers racist.)

The sequence at the end where we get the “everybody’s different but isn’t THAT what makes us truly special” montage. Some people get younger, some are artists, some dance, some swim the English channel and shit. GUESS WHAT?!! Some people make stupid ass movies: their names are David Fincher and the Gumpian writers of this nonsense. Listen, you robbed Shwashank and Pulp Fiction about 15 years ago so why are you going around writing a less good version of your old stupid story.

Personal thought: I sat against the wall in the last seat of my row in the theater. I continually smacked my head against the wall, so as not to gouge my brain out with some sort of spontaneously-invented implement. Some people, any by “some” I mean a handful of mentally challenged adults, in the theater clapped at the end of this movie. Eileen immediately turned to me and was like “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE THEY CLAPPING AT?!!” At least, that’s what the expression on her face was saying. And this was totally unsolicited.

Objectively speaking, Benjamin Button was a stupid dumb movie that was kinda likeable at parts. I give it two and a half stars out of four. A cool concept that got bogged down in retarded stupid shit that uninformed moviegoers might find original and moving.
Maybe I’m just cynical.

We ain't voting for no moolie!

Staten Island proves once again that it should not be a part of NY.