We’ve been in something of a tizzy over on the String this last week as Gnoob has been regaling us with the tale of his trip to Phoenix . . . in a Sprinter Van . . . in a blizzard . . . with no headlights. I know what you are saying — sounds like a great story, what’s the issue? Well you’re right, even though it didn’t involve Gnoob abducting a hooker, it is a riveting story. The problem is that it is a looonnnnggg story and it took Gnoob the entire week to get the story out. In other words, its a story made for the MWAG Blog. We tried to get him to move the sordid tale over here, but to no avail. He said that the text string was his “medium” or some bullshit. I really think he is just intimidated by having to prepare a proper blog post. He is Gnoob for a reason:
Given that this is the second best String Sprinter Van story (the other one’s top secret, but Karen can verify) and since, much to our initial disappointment, it doesn’t involve Gnoob abducting a hooker or doing anything more than Gnoob being Gnoob, I have decided to share it with you since Gnoob is being a bitch and won’t do it himself. So, without further ado, here’s the story of Gnoob’s recent trip to Phoenix.
Some MAGAt Trumpster at the Federalist delivered a broadside last week claiming that “You’re Not Allowed to Knock Trump for Stormy Daniels If You Watch Porn.” Yes, that was the actual headline. The full article is here. So many ways to go with this one, but let’s just hit the high points and then take a deep dive into the logic at play which, although erroneous, is kind of interesting. And, that headline will be a little confusing at first, especially for Republicans, but I promise I to tie this all up like a Christmas bow by the end. So hang in there.
Jake and I still debate whose idea it was to get Bronson. The idea to get another dog was probably mine. But I swear to your god and mine that it was Jake’s idea to get a Rottweiler. I had never even met a Rottweiler. I had only seen them in the movies. A scary brute, silently guarding the estate or junk yard, available, if necessary, to kill or maul any intruder.Continue reading →
The kids and I left for Florida the day after Trish’s funeral. The trip served a couple of purposes. Mainly we needed to get Alexa back to school for the end of her freshman year at the University of Miami. We also needed more time to spend together as a family, just the five of us, and figure out how this new life might work without Trish. So on the Thursday after Trish died, the day after her funeral, we loaded up the family truckster and headed out on the 24 hour drive for South Florida.Continue reading →
Strange that I didn’t know the answer to that, but I didn’t, so I asked. Uncle Bud, his real name is Albert, but everyone called him Bud, was my dad’s oldest brother. As the oldest brother, Uncle Bud was the patriarch of the family, at least since my grandpa had died in 1983.Continue reading →
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.
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 →