As background, the following is something I wrote for a podcast written and produced by some fellow Second City students. Not everyone knows this, but Second City is actually a comedy university, not just a place to go see a show. You can take classes on a wide variety of comedic subjects like improv, stand up, writing, acting, etc. I’ve taken a few writing classes over the last couple years, and last summer took a class called “Writing the Humorous Memoir.” That was fun, so I went on to the next class. After that, I was asked to be a part of a new podcast that was starting up called “Personal.Disclosures.” The podcast includes others, like me, from Second City telling stories about their lives. The first podcast will be out in a month or two, so stay tuned for info on that. I’ll post more of these, because why the hell not. Continue reading
Seadick just hit me up to get some prop bets down on the “Big Game” tomorrow. I took tails, obviously, and he took the under on the National Anthem, thinking that P!nk’s claim that she got the flu is gonna speed things along. But then when we want to bet on some more, like what color shirt Belichick will wear, or what color of Gatorade gets dumped on the winning coach, we are kinda stuck. Neither of us is going to give the other the advantageous house odds, of course, so what the hell are a couple guys to do.
The problem, per usual, is translating published house odds into bro to bro odds, with no advantage to either side. Well that’s where I come in. I have scoured the Internets collecting odds, and then averaged and rounded the moneyline bets, removing the house advantage factor, and converting that to fractional odds that even idiots and young children can understand. If it was close, I just called it EVEN, or rounded up for the underdog, and moved on, because no reason to overthink it, or anything else, really. Finally, some odds I just made up if the math was too hard, if we are being honest with one another.
So, with those qualifications, the following are the 100% absolutely correct “Bro to Bro” prop bet odds for Super Bowl LII.
Apparently a person is ripped to shreds by a crocodile in North Queensland every three months. And we think we have problems.
While we all have been distracted by tax cuts and pedophiles, the Los Angeles city counsel is trying to ban house parties. Well, not on this bro’s watch. A fella by the name of Chad Kroeger, at least that’s the handle his lovin’ parents gave him, is taking a stand against the ban. I won’t say Chad is a hero, because what’s a hero, but sometimes there’s a man for his time and place, and that’s Chad Kroeger, in Los Angeles.
Chad Kroeger the house party enthusiast makes some great points. How else can a young man gain confidence if he doesn’t have the opportunity to shotgun a tall can of Bud Light in front of the whole squad at a house party? That’s what house parties do! What up counsel.
Had tickets for the U2 Joshua Tree concert in St. Louis on Saturday night but it got cancelled because of the riots. U2 concerts don’t matter, apparently. The stone set in my eyes, and a thorn twisted in my side. Well, by sleight of hand and a twist of fate, I got a call from Mr. Blue saying he was headed for the casino in Michigan City. With nothing to win and nothing left to lose, Ava and I headed for that jewel on Lake Michigan, in the shadow of a nuclear reactor, to meet up with Blue.
So I get there and Blue is into this table game Mississippi Stud, and teaches me how to play. I lost my ass, but I was HOOKED. I downloaded a Mississippi Stud app on the iPad machine, and was up all night Sunday deciding whether to triple up the odds on 3d, 4th and 5th street. Since that abortion on Saturday night, I have played thousands of hands on the computer, and have figured out EXACTLY where I went wrong, and how I will defeat this motherfucker in the future, and by the future I mean in a week and a half when SeaDick, Irish Jesus, Mongo, Kool, Keckie, and allegedly Captain and Butthead, descend on Vegas. So herein I give myself away, I give myself away, and describe how you too will defeat Mississippi Stud, like I will, in a week and a half in Vegas. Continue reading
Absolutely love this guy. The confidence. The attitude. He wasn’t going to take any shit from some dumbass reporter about the “risk to your own safety,” especially a jackass from Fox News. Just starts spitting out meridians and longitudes that the reporter has no fucking clue about. And then when the reporter attempts to demonstrate some understanding of what he is talking, Florida bro doesn’t take any of that shit. Irma is not just heading “westbound,” you simpleton, it is “275 degrees.” Fucking love it. Just owns that dipshit, who can’t get out of there quick enough.
Now, having said that, allow me to be the first to say that every word Florida dude spouted off there was total bullshit. He didn’t know how many miles away Irma was, what direction it was headed or if it might take a turn and flatten Miami Beach. His math was also wrong, because if the hurricane was on a heading of 275 degrees (it wasn’t), that is 5 degrees north of due west, which would be one-eighteenth, not one-fifteenth, of the way to 360 degrees, or true north (5/90=1/18). But that’s beside the point. Florida bro wasn’t trying to be the best at weather predicting, or math, he was trying to be the best at making a reporter look stupid. And he won the Hurricane Irma reporting, at least from what I have seen. Hope he didn’t drown in the storm surge.
It’s that time of year in the golf world where you start assessing your game to try to figure out why you didn’t get your index down from a 13 to a 2. Can’t be due to ability right? Has to be the clubs. Accordingly, both Mango and I got some new irons. I got the new Ping G400s, which, while taking a little while to get used to, I like a lot. Mango got these sweet looking beasts at Club Champion. And when I say “these” I literally mean the ones in the picture. Club Champion is advertising with Mango’s actual irons. Seems like they should have given him a discount or something, just sayin.
Alotta guys are out there saying that Sunday night’s episode of Game of Thrones was the best episode of television, ever. Well, who am I to disagree? It was awesome, no one can deny that. And probably the only competition is the prior GOT episodes from past seasons with major battles, like when the wildlings assaulted the Wall, or the Battle of the Bastards, or Hardhomme, when the skeletons just rained down over the cliff and overwhelmed the Night’s Watch. Those were awesome too, you guys. I mean, in that battle for the Wall, you had giants riding in on fucking MAMMOTHS, which are extinct, the last time I checked. People forget that.
So yea, I’m not going to quibble over which of the GOT battle episodes was best. I will admit I had a rager pointing north the entire battle scene with the dragon and the Dothraki’s and Bronn manning the ballista. But I do have a couple of complaints, because I don’t think the battle was realistic.
SPOILER ALERT, obviously, dumbass.
Need a quick blogging slump buster to get back in the game, and, SPOILER ALERT, a video of an idiot getting his face ripped off by a prehistoric animal is as good any, I guess. Continue reading
LINK – A New York developer is willing to give up half of his $2 billion fortune just to end his messy divorce case — and he can’t stop laughing about it.
“As soon as this divorce is over, I’m getting remarried,” he declared after a hearing into his breakup with his spouse of 58 years, who has thus far not agreed to his offer of a 50-50 financial split.Developer Harry Macklowe, 79, was in a joking mood outside a Manhattan civil courtroom Tuesday as he talked about handing his wife, Linda Macklowe, a cool $1 billion so she will sign legal papers freeing him to be with his younger French gal pal.
The giddy real estate mogul then launched into an impromptu comedy set for reporters, telling a string of “Take my wife — please”-style jokes straight from a Henny Youngman routine.
The act included several long quips such as this one:
A husband has been giving his wife incredible pleasure, beyond her wildest fantasies, for 30 years of marriage. But they always have sex with the lights off. One night she gets curious, leans over and flips the light switch on. She is shocked to see that her husband is using a vibrator on her. “I knew it, you jerk, explain the vibrator!” she says. “Explain the kids!” he says.
First off, I would like to go on record and declare that I am normally Team Wife. Seen this scenario a thousand times. The husband and wife have been together for decades, with him bringing in the cash, and her at home raising the kids and being a MILF. Then, at some point, he feels like she doesn’t appreciate all his hard work and sacrifice for the family. Coincidentally, around this time, he just so happens to get some much needed attention from a young secretary or whatever. Meanwhile, the wife may have a few wrinkles (or not, if she is getting those $1800 Botox injections), but she is still taking care of things at home and looks damn good in the yoga pants. Regardless, like your president does every decade or so, the husband kicks the older broad to the curb in exchange for the newer model. That is usually where I come in, to comfort and console all those rejected 40 something MILF’s out there in their time of need. So naturally I am Team Wife, 9 times out of 10 anyway. Continue reading