What about Seattle?!?!?!?

That’s right, the countdown is at one day, and I’m as giddy as a little school girl.

The title stems from one of my favorite stories told by Kev, the young buck we’re going to visit in the Emerald City. Back in high school, we used to park cars before Chiefs’ games as part of our community service for cross country. It was easy business, and we used to make some extra cash on the side if we gave up preferential lawn space to some of the tailgaters. Plus, we got in to the game for free.

Anyways, one fall Kev and our buddy Donato were parking for the Chiefs/Seahawks Monday night game. They get in, and it turns out to be an epic affair. The Chefs win in OT on a punt return TD by the one and only Tamarick Vanover, and Kev and D decide it’s best to celebrate this victory on the field. They run around like crazed streakers for approximately 38 seconds, and are then tackled by beefy security guards just looking for an excuse to crack some skulls. Criminal trespassing was threatened, but ultimately they were released and advised to buy some clean pants.

That’s a highlight of the story, but what has always stood out in my mind was what Kev described witnessing during his on-field celebration. Scanning the crowd, he came across some drunken lout in Zubaz, taunting some poor Seahawks’ fan exiting the stadium. This fan’s abuse consisted of one middle finger salute, while the other hand was pointing to the guy’s junk, all the while exclaiming “What about Seattle?!?!?” And there you have it.

As for the city itself, my prior experience consists of two things: The Reign Man and grunge. And with that, I bid thee farewell with two epic clips:

and, of course:

Enjoy the week, everyone.

The best American sports writer alive

Outstanding column by the one and only JoePos in today’s Star about K-State’s Clent Stewart and the loss of his mother, Vanessa, to cancer. Take the time to read it (and register if you have to; it’s free and well worth it), even if you’re not a Wildcat fan.

Beasley has the talent, Billy Walker has the attitude, but Clent Stewart is the rock that’s guiding this team to its first NCAA tourney since ‘96. Enjoy the ride while you can.

The gift that keeps on giving

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody.

http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/uncensored.shtml

Dirt McGirt, we harldy knew ye

Where to begin with such an epic figure. How does one properly provide poetry to the poet? That’s the dilemma I face as I try to produce some gesture worthy of the man they call Ol’ Dirty Bastard.

This is something I’ve intended to do for some time now, but be it procrastination or, well, procrastination, I never got around to it.

Until now.

So, it’s time to visit the Brooklyn Zoo, take two of your 13 children to pickup your welfare check right after your album goes platinum, and remind everyone that your shit ain’t corny. In other words, it’s time for ODB Tuesday.

Randomness, thy name is me…or something along those lines

Just some random thoughts on a Monday as we built towards an epic ODB Tuesday:

* Don’t know if the rest of you caught Kanye’s performance on the Grammys last night with Daft Punk, but it was f’n incredible. The opening was badass, but the tribute to his mom had Mrs. Pimp and myself sniffin’ onions by the end. Incredibly well done, and the fact that he called out the producers during his acceptance speech for starting the “get the hell off the stage” music when he started to talk about his mom was strong. Here’s what I found on YouTube. Enjoy it while you can:

*I enjoyed Juno for what it was: A clever, well put together ode to the uncertainties of youth and pregnancy. However, I almost shit my pants when I learned that it was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar with heavyweights like No Country and There Will Be Blood. That’s why I enjoyed this commentary from Slate so much. I haven’t taken a stance on the flick like some have, but I agree that it has no business being in that company. And just to satisfy Mrs. Pimp in the YouTube department and put a smile on B’s face, here’s a clip of one of the greatest performances I’ve witnessed on the screen:

*7-1 in the Big 12 is pretty F**king good. I really don’t care that B-Eazy and the boys lost to Mizzou. Not when there’s a victory (at home) against KU and their holier-than-thou fan base in the first half of the conference slate. As a K-State fan, I remember watching the Cats as a senior in high school go to March Madness in ‘96 and thinking “It’s going to be sweet watching a regular tournament team for four or five years.” Never happened. Now, that may finally happen, and it might be more than just a one-and-done. Check out the latest bracketology and RPI rankings for where the guardians of the Purple Octagon of Doom (or Bramlage, for those who prefer official titles) stand.

And just cause it puts a smile on my face, here’s one more image of the Breakthrough:

Like a said, more to come tomorrow, and hopefully more in general this year. I’ll try to stay current, and actually, you know, blog for a change. Enjoy the start of your week, everyone.

Greatest late night comedy synergy…ever

That’s right, I’m back you cheese-eating surrender monkeys! It’s been a long-ass time, but let’s get this sucker fired up once again.

And to start with, we’re busting out the big guns. Don’t know if any of you caught this last week, but it should put the fear of God in the writers on strike that this type of comedy can be created without them.

I’ll be back soon with the long-promised ODB Tuesday, and, God willing, far more consistent posts. Until then, as Rick James would say, enjoy yourselves! That was, cold blooded!

Christmas IS in fact tougher than leather

A timeless classic. Merry Christmas, everybody!

Words fail…should have sent poet

By popular request, I’m posting yet another highly disturbing workout video via Esquire:

So many questions: Are there children or “little people” in those poodle costumes? If I were Asian, would I understand this perfectly?

Multitasking at its finest

Don’t judge. Just enjoy.

And there’s so much more. Check out this for the back story, and this for the origin.

Here come the bastards

It’s only fitting I feature Primus in my old music spotlight this week. Friday night, the missus and I had a chance to escape the estates after battling the great beast that is Projectile Vomitron the previous weekend, and randomly decided upon the sweet cajun samplings of Jazz. (Props to B for recommending the Chicken a la mer) Before we even sat down, we ran into Chris, one of my best friends from grade school and someone I hadn’t seen in damn near six years. We had traded emails a couple months ago about hooking up and catching one of his shows, but hadn’t made the connection. As fate would have it, his band was playing that night at Jazz, so between cocktails and a smooth set of blues, jazz and creole, I had the chance to catch up with one of the most influential people in my life, at least in regards to music.

Chris also happened to introduce me to Primus at the young age of 11, and since the initial purchase of “Sailing the Seas of Cheese” on cassette, I’ve found myself in awe of the slap-bass stylings of Les Claypool and Co.

I’ve witnessed Primus live twice in my youth, and there’s a good chance I’ll be in attendance again in the near future. But for now, whether or not you’re a fan of the sardonic humor of Claypool or the unique music of this ensemble, I invite you to dabble in the greatness that is Primus.