A Clockwork Waffle

Up until this past week I was one of the 10% of Americans who did not hate the Patriots, then the Buffalo game happened. Now I have joined the Patriot haters like Mike Wilbon, and about half of the coaches and commentators in the NFL. Why you may ask? Because of one play and it has been talked about on every sports show this past week: Up by forty points the Patriots passed to Randy Moss for a touchdown. FORTY POINTS. To put that into perspective if in the remaining quarter of the game the Bills did not give up any points. AND they scored as many points as they did in the previous three games, they would have beaten the Patriots by 13 points. So taking that into account I can see why there would be a need to worry.

Now aside from that, there seems to be this argument of nonsense out there saying “It’s not the offenses job to go out there and punt/stop themselves,” and that’s correct. No one wants to see someone take a knee in the third quarter for three downs, it’s not prudent. However, when you are on that field there is one major thing to remember. You are out there playing with other people who are professionals. If the Patriots and there fans were on the other side of that ball they would be complaining and going to the press talking about how they are being disrespected, because they get the press to do that. Again, I’m not saying take a knee, but how about going for a field goal on fourth down? But then they wouldn’t have won by 40, probably only by 36 or so. Or how about putting in the second string at some point other than during the last 2 minutes? Not to make the game more competitive but to show that you aren’t just going to whomp the hell out of the other team.

There are truly only two people to blame here, Tom Brady and Bill Belichick. Bill Belichick was busted for cheating earlier this year, and it was cheating no matter which way you slice it , it was against the rules. So after that, he came out guns blazing wanting to show everyone that he doesn’t need tapes to beat teams , and it is completely understandable. But that time has past, and by humiliating teams you are just showing yourself to be an asshole. Don’t get me wrong, I think he is a great coach and I think he could whip the worst ego into shape and he could make the Dolphins a plus .500 team into 2 years, but as a person, he’s an asshole. We all know people like this, people who are good at their job but are terrible people, it happens. Bill Belichick is showing himself for who he is and he sucks. Tom Brady is also to blame for this. I always thought that he was a good guy. A down-to-earth guy who knows whats what because he had to work from a 6th round pick to where he is now. But lately I feel he has been swept up in this “us against the world” attitude and is not speaking up about the way these games are going the way normal people would.

So with all that in mind, I truly hope that someone takes out Tom Brady at the knees when they go for it on forth down when up by 40, or let’s go of an 80 yard play-action pass when they are killing another team. I can almost feel that this will happen, the utter disgust of the other teams coupled with the frustration of a team being badly beaten will stir up some bad blood. I never wish for a player to be hurt, but in this case I make the exception because if and when he goes down ALL the blame will come down on Bill Belichick, and it will be a proverbial media shit storm. He will be torn asunder and ripped apart for his poor coaching decision to do the assholian (that’s right) things that he is doing now. When it happens I will say good, because unless he changes his coaching style he deserves it, and when it happens, I hope it happens before the playoffs so they will have the championship stolen from them, deservingly. So I say to you Eagles, Ravens, Steelers, Jets, Dolphons and Giants keep your head up but aim low.

Florida is a place known for Hurricanes, both the sports team and weather phenomena, but it’s the breeding ground for another, more insidious phenomena that has an undeniable effect on south Florida: poor driving. The bad driving here is an absolutely breathtaking sight to behold, but the more interesting question is where this unfathomable inability to move a car down to the road comes from.

Latin American Flair: Its no secret that third world driving is third world in quality (purely ethno centrist assumption, I refuse to back this up) and Miami has an abundance of third world immigrants (sorry I don’t care if Costa Rica is a second world country). Some are legal (I’m looking at you wet-foot dry-foot policy) and many are not, but they all seem to share the opinion that driving laws are merely suggestions to be applied or ignored as they see fit. Consequently, turn signals are a rare sight. Instead cars sublimely cruise into your lane at least ten miles an hour slower than you are driving with nary a car in the world. I suppose that traffic lights fall into this category as yellow lights are simply ignored. IGNORED! At least one set of cars run every red light.

Unintelligible Road Signs: Charmingly, many road signs in south Florida are just solid peaces of white rock with black type on the ground. ON THE GROUND. Yes, I understand concern about Hurricanes, but try trying to find someplace new at night and you’ll feel like the biggest asshole on earth. You have no choice but to slow down and rubberneck at every unreadable sign.

Snowbirds: People come down here seasonally, for long vacations, and never really learn how to get around. It’s hard to get around here anyway, and visitors manage to make erratic turns and ignore normal traffic patterns.

Old People: A lot of the aforementioned snow birds are old. Really old, really senile and really bad drivers that really have a tough time in the unbelievable driving atmosphere here. They proceed to exacerbate the situation by meandering their Alzheimer’s-addled asses in and out of traffic. I’m not sure what sight annoys me more, the immigrant that never learned how to drive or the oldster that has since forgotten how to drive and where they left their dentures.

Left Turn Signals: Remember how people run red lights? That forces people that are hung out to dry turning left to REALLY run red lights. Then, when you finally get your damn left turn signal people are running red lights, narrowing your window to turn, and the light cycle is so UNBELIEVABLY short that it’s virtually impossible to get enough people through the turn. So, frustrated about potentially sitting through another light cycle, left turners gun it through the red light, cheating people going straight of some of their time with a green light, creating a never-ending cycle of angry people denied enough time to turn.

So there you have it: a unique set of conditions and ingredients that create a perfect storm of bad driving in south Florida. You’ve been warned.

I want to start off by saying that this article isn’t against anything, except for nonsense.

I am starting to get really pissed off at the people who support our troops. There’s quite a lot of shit getting thrown around about how tough it is for them over there and every time one dies it is a tragedy. It’s not a tragedy, it’s a death. If Bill Soldier gets hit with 5 bullets while pulling orphans out of a burning building, while gently holding their puppy in his teeth, then yes, Tragedy. If Bill Soldier is out on patrol and gets killed, that’s unfortunate. It’s called being a soldier and that’s what soldiers do. They fight, they die.

Everyone needs to stop this bullshit with how they are sacrificing so much and giving so much. They fucking SIGNED UP. For college, for extra money, whatever….they signed up. They put their name on that paper knowing what a soldier was, and what a soldier does, so where exactly am I supposed to be sympathetic? “But Peaches they are doing hard work!” Yes they are doing hard, difficult grueling work. True. So are construction workers, builders, masons, pavers, etc. I don’t, I sit in an air-conditioned lab running tests. I didn’t sign my name to any of those other jobs, so that’s why I don’t have to do them. Simple. If you really feel sorry for them, and you truly care, sign your name to a piece of paper and fight with them, they will be glad for the help, but don’t dare lecture me on how righteous they are and how they all deserve more. And the worst is when people say they are fighting for our freedom. There has never been a larger spun turd laid on America than that beauty. Our foreign policy in Iraq has actually been shown to raise the level of terrorists (terrorists??? in a destroyed impoverished nation???), and no country likes to be occupied. If we were invading North Korea, maybe…MAYBE, I would bite on it. But The bottom line is

They

all

signed

up.

The same with policemen, the same with firefighters. They know the inherit dangers and signed up for it. Should we be sad? Yes. But they aren’t all tragedies, and they sure as hell aren’t all heroes.

There has been this idea of late…this whisper of an idea. This idea is that there is a cure for AIDS/Cancer/ Parkinson’s/Etc and that the cure or vaccine is “under wraps” because the money is in the treatment not in the cure. A co-worker told me this and it was so stupid it hurt my TAINT. Let me give you a crash course in Biology.

The two most common ailments that people believe there are cures for are either a genetic disorder or cause by a virus. A genetic disorder cannot be cured, it’s symptons can be hidden but they will always exist. And a virus is ridiculously hard to kill. I’m not going to get into it but the only way to kill a virus is to build up someone’s immunity against it, this is called a vaccine.

Now that you skipped that paragraph, riddle me this; why would a company hide an AIDS vaccine? MILLIONS would get the vaccine leading to billions of dollars, let alone the money from patents and grants. “But it will eliminate AIDS, then they WON’T make money.” True, just like how the flu vaccine has destroyed the flu, or how the rabies vaccine has destroyed rabies, or how the measles vaccine has destroyed measels. Jackasses. Even if there was a wonderdrug that could kill a virus, the money gained in the first weeks alone would catapult the company to a position where it could bribe diseases into not infecting people. Any “cure” would be so beneficial and tantalizing that it would NEVER be passed up.

Let’s take this a step further, pretend umm a magical asteroid hit the earth killing all pathogenic bacteria and vaccines and only genetic diseases remained. The drug companys would be effected for about a month. Then they would switch gears into producing only drugs that fixate on making genetic disorders less pronounced, and even turn their sites into more cosmetic pursuits such as permanently changing someone’s eye color and such.

Even if you are still one of the Jackasses who believe the money is in the treatment, you must realize that doctor’s get most of the money and the generic drugs continue to roll off the assembly line. The money is not in the treatment, it’s in treating it first.

I hate people.

It’s with a heavy heart that I officially announce a hiatus. For nearly a year I held myself to a minimum of one article a week on The Waffle, but with the start of law school my free time (and motivation) to do so has dwindled to nearly zero. It’s been a great run, and be sure check back periodically, but I think its fair to admit that after weeks of not writing anything that I won’t be suddenly back into the swing of things. That being said, its been a blast, and expect thing things I do put up here to be real winners.

I just got done watching Pardon the Interruption, one of the best shows on television. On this particular program one of the hosts, Mike Wilbon, shat on fantasy football saying that he was sick of it and wants a return to “purist” football when everyone has a single team. On you, Mr. Wilbon, I call bullshit.

I am, and have been, a Steelers fan for about 16 of my 23 years of life and I am one of those fans who really loves his team and believes anyone who has ever changed their favorite team after the age of 14 is a band-wagon fan and should be banned from all of football. These assholes fall into the same category as the people who don’t have a favorite, but like 18 football teams and when one of them wins the Superbowl they bounce around like they have been a fan forever. I can agree with Mr. Wilbon on the point that before Fantasy Football came into existence it was very easy to spot the douche who cheers for every winning team.

Also, this outburst on PTI was during a conversation on the Fantasy Value of Steve Smith. I hate this. I absolutely hate people on NFL Total Access, Sportscenter, newspapaers, etc. talking about different people’s fantasy value. The Fantasy Value of someone is completely independent of football. it has no bearing on the money they receive or the quality of their play*. Speaking of Fantasy Value or saying “I would like this guy on my Fantasy Team,” is a compliment and one that people should pay attention to because it is just one other way to say “This guy is going to have a good season.” But it should be a comment not a five minute discussion. It’s pointless and bullshit, just tell me why this guy will be better and shut up about Fantasy Value, it’s trite and an altogether dumb thing to argue about. It’s just a PC way to talk about a players quality or lack there of.

While it seems I am in support of Wilbon’s judgement, his statement at its core is overloaded with bullshit. Before Fantasy Football started I usually only watched Steeler’s games or games related to the Steeler’s (Win-and-In games). As soon as Fantasy started I enjoyed watching a Cardinal’s game because I want to know how Larry Fitzgerald does in the game. I begin paying attention to free agency and injuries around the league because they may directly or indirectly influence my players.

My point is simply this; anything that gets more people interested in football, without being intrusive, is good. If for some reason the Steelers go 0-16 this season I will still be watching every game I can get my eyes on just to see how my fantasy team is doing. This not only brings more people into the game but it also brings the fans even deeper which is important.

PREDICTIONS FOR THE COMING SEASON

1. Drew Brees will be better than expected.

2. Dante Culpepper is still a bum.

3. Dawkins will hit TO so hard in one of the two games his face comes off.

4. Despite talking them up to no-end, the Jets will not make the playoffs.

5. Despite their quarterback situation and their altogether lack of offense the Bears will find a way to make it to the Playoffs.

*I know Fantasy Value, obviously comes from football but no matter what a Fantasy Value is determined to be it doesn’t change how they play.

First, let me warn all of you brainless mouth breathers, I loathe Law & Order. If you were expecting me to fellate Jerry Orbach’s dead body than you’re going to be sorely disappointed. If you want to waste an hour on an extremely derivative show, that’s fine, but anyone who claims its great television should seriously consider reprimanding their mother for fucking their uncle. After all, the hellish union produces legions of Law & Order fans that don’t know their ass from their elbow.

I could blast the ‘plot’ for hours. Suffice it to say, the ‘plotlines’ are regurgitated ‘real life’ situations with hollow and empty robot-actors portraying clichés. I could shit all over the characterization (hah!) for days. I think the fact that every single character is in the show simply to move the plot of Murder/Rape/Monkey Sex Case X ahead is strong enough evidence that it’s a weak set of characters. Instead of dwelling on these things I’ll discuss how I misanthropically rebel against the basic, and seemingly reasonable, premise of the show:

The Cops are the Good Guys.

Sure, they’re investigating some crimes that ought to be solved, but when whatever douchebag officer starts questioning the first suspect (who inevitably turns out to be innocent of the crime) I find myself hating the interrogators. I think they’re assholes. I want to reach through the television and spear them through a wall. Then, they finally blunder into the guilty party, but by that point I hate them. I’m rooting for suspect, after all the cops have just shat all over some innocent guy for the first fifteen minutes. I end up rooting for sociopaths, child molesters, terrorists, rapists, and a whole slew of scumbags because of the repugnance that emanates from the cop characters. Now, please, no one tell me about how each Law & Order detective is a unique and special snowflake, because they aren’t. I don’t know the names of any character, because they aren’t really characters as much as caricatures.

So, the question is, how did it change my life? I hate these shows, so the claim seems counterintuitive. However, with my imminent departure for law school I have begun to realize that this show has helped me cultivate a finely honed opinion (based on a mixture of personal experience and these two dimensional cardboard cop characters from the show) that cops are assholes and that I’d feel no remorse ripping them to pieces in a trial. I would relish making boneheaded officers that get off screwing with peoples lives 85% of the day look like the pricks they are on the witness stand. So, when I’m a high powered drug attorney in Miami that works day and night keeping big time dealers on the street, remember that its shitty American television that made me into that monster.

In his brief time on this delicate planet called Earth, man inevitably wonders about the profound mysteries of the great cosmos. The most common quandary is, of course, what is the meaning of life? But the often neglected, second most important question is would you put your head on a robot body?* Interestingly, after answering yes to the robot question, you can then discover that the meaning of life is to mop the crime ridden streets of Detroit with the blood of the criminals you killed as a badass cyborg cop.

The movie that most effectively documents this phenomenon is Robocop – the setting: Futuristic Detroit, where believe it or not, crime is still a problem. It all begins when an overconfident cop and his mostly ineffective partner try to take on a host of hardened criminals armed with assault rifles. The aforementioned cop promptly gets his shit ruined and by all means, that should be the end of this tale. But wait! According to his drivers license he is an organ donor! Enter: heartless corporation with an eye for profits. Their flawless plan: build robots controlled by the brains of dead cops and sell them to the Detroit police department. Thus, Robocop rises from the ashes and commences perforation of criminals in 9mm increments.

But being a robot isn’t all killing humans and getting drunk off energon cubes. Some criminals prove more formidable than others, namely Clarence Boddicker aka Kurtwood Smith aka Red Forman from that 70’s show – and even in the 1980’s, 20 years before a show would be made about the 1970’s, Kurtwood Smith still had no hair. If only he were to pull a Terminator and go back in time to the 70’s to get hair transplants, all future versions and past interpretations of his parallel-universe self would have hair! Unfortunately, Skynet will probably still enslave humanity.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, Robocop would beat terminator in a fight any day. Robocop, you see, is an expert at fighting robots several times his size as seen in his final confrontation with the ED-209, another police robot built by the shallow dreams of corporate America. The result is a David vs. Goliath confrontation that will echo throughout the ages. The main difference is that this time, the foe will not be felled by a stone – instead his weakness is…stairs. In retrospect, jetpacks would have been a prudent addition to the Ed-209.

Overall, I highly recommend this movie. Like many other 1980’s movies named Aliens and Robocop 2, it features biting social commentary about the empty suits and talking heads that populate corporate America. Robocop does lose some points because it initiated a chain of events that lead to the creation of Robocop 3, but I suspect that script was just created to show how empty suits are screwing up Hollywood too. Of course some of you may be asking, what is Robocop but a talking head on a robot body? My friends, it’s putting your head on the robot body that makes all the difference. And that’s the meaning of life.

Score: 82

* Completely different from putting your brain in a robot body as discussed in Sealab 2021 - that show I’ve never seen so I can’t be copying off it.

My blood boils when large groups of my friends and I go out. Not because of the company, I’m not an idiot that chooses to hang out with people he secretly loathes (stares in the direction of 95% of women), but because of the horrible array of restaurants we usually choose. It reads like a hit-parade for mediocre corporate schlock, a dizzying array of humdrummery that sends MBAs to their evil lairs for corporate fellatio: Appleby’s, Chili’s, Bennigan’s, Ruby Tuesday’s, Red Robin, T.G.I. Friday’s, and the list goes on. People I know, and respect, repeatedly declare how much they “love Bennigans.”

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Let’s call a spade a spade, and get some information out on the table. First, the aforementioned restaurants are, for all practical purposes, identical. Some irk me more than others, but they have the same bland, boring characteristics between them:

* A host of generic “fun” appetizers like cheesy fries, wings, nachos, and onion rings. Sure, I’m sure some asshole can point out how each restaurant has some ‘unique’ quality, but let may save you the trouble. I’ll demolish that idiotic argument momentarily.

* An inoffensive, bland gimmick that has little/no bearing on the actual food other than to provide gimmicky names to what would otherwise be bland dishes. South-west, hometown, ‘party, or faux-cultural, it’s all just window-dressing. For instance, Bennigans (the prime offender) masquerades as an “Irish” establishment and names its unoriginal food with fun little Irish names to create the illusion of uniqueness. If I wanted a burger I’d get one, don’t call it a fried rainbow-shitting leprechaun, its just an insult to my intelligence.

* Quesadillas and Burgers. Inevitably, when all the tyranny and the bullshit are stripped away, just about everyone orders a burger or quesadillas, because that’s what these restaurants do. Its amazing that people subconsciously know these classic America schlock joints for what they are, but insist on being blinded by their shitty corporate window dressing.

So, there you have it. For those that have secretly been a part of my struggle for years, you have a voice. For those that naively enjoyed such purveyors of putrescence, I hope to have broken your spirit, shattered your illusions, and shown you the light. For those that still refuse to see wisdom, I feel nothing but loathing for you. Go to a local restaurant, try something different, something with at least a modicum of authenticity, and maybe discover something new.

The Lord of the Patty

In the days of yore,
Lived Eight Men,
And on a faraway shore,
Did they attend,

Dickinson College.

Their abode was a Suite,
A mystical land,
Of Dragons, Beer, and Meat,
And united they were grand,

At Dickinson College.

But Lo,
A terrible rift did rise,
Not over experience points,
Or women, Or Money, Or Courage,
But a burger (with fries),

From a Wendy’s near Dickinson College.

They were to pay him back,
For their sweet beef,
Hours did pass,
And their presence did lack,

For hours in Suite 12 at Dickinson College.

And the Buyer cried out,
“My friends, I have the flesh of cow,
But now I sincerely doubt,
They shall return to sup upon this sweet sow,”

In Suite 12 of Dickinson College.

And so he gave the treasure away,
To those that could offer no pay,
For he thought it would waste,
And turn into a foul maggot-filled paste,

In the dumpster at Dickinson College.

And when they returned,
The meatless cried out,
Like a lover spurned,
“What have you done to my sweeter burger,
For this you deserve to suffer a murder.”

And the conflagration did thus begin,
Sweeping the Men into a grand battle,
Turning friend on friend,
Regarding the fate of less than a pound of Cattle,

In the Limestone Walls of Dickinson College.