No, I’m not talking about the current presidential primaries. That’s more like lunacy or a clown show. I’m talking about the best time of the year for a sports fan, the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament. The time when more than $1.7 Billion in worker productivity will be lost while we all fill out our brackets, watch the games on our computers and generally ignore the rest of the world. Continue reading
Like me, SeaDick is an astute follower of the political scene, as you can probably tell if you read this blog. Where I lean a little to the left, SeaDick leans a little to the right. He denies he is a Republican, and who wouldn’t deny being a Republican with the shitshow that they are putting on these days. Instead, SeaDick says he is “socially liberal, fiscally conservative,” which probably means he doesn’t hate the gays and the Muslims, but is selfish with his tax dollars. I call that the reasonable wing of the Republican party, because their position at least makes sense. Although heartless and cruel, they are at least intellectually respectable in my book, and tend to deal in facts, at least until you mention climate change. Continue reading
I think that most of you know that we here at the Monkey are big fans of Beer. I’m pretty sure that AB/InBev is about to award IJ a lifetime achievement medal to go along with his Hall of Fame induction in 1998 with Mongo about to receive his own HOF induction any day now. Oops, stand by, the ADHD just kicked in and I’m going to go on a little beer tangent before I get back to fooking cucumber beer, so grab a frosty one and buckle up. Continue reading
Whenever the String starts planning a trip to Vegas, golf invariably enters the discussion. It usually gets dismissed pretty quickly because, as IJ is want to say, “You can’t serve two masters.” And when it comes to Vegas and IJ, the master serving a steady stream of buds while allowing him to preach his unique brand of wisdom to four or five other people at the Blackjack table 18 hours at a stretch is pretty damn persuasive. Continue reading
I have long held the belief that when I am rating something the choices should be one or zero. When I go to the doctor and they show me the pain chart I always say 10 – why the hell would I be sitting in a veritable petri dish of horrible infectious disease unless the pain was a 10? When I rate my Uber driver, it is a 1 or a 5. Who thinks about it enough to give someone a 3? If the ride was fine, you give the driver a 5. If it sucked, it’s a 1. Anything else is ridiculous.
I find that this principle has carried over into many aspects of my life. The principle is embedded into the title of this rant, which is actually a text I received from one of the other degenerates who (very occasionally) contributes to the backbone of this blog – which is a group text string of immature idiots with golf obsessions. He purchased Stenson in a Calcutta (if you don’t know what a Calcutta is this is not the blog for you – you might be looking for something about real monkeys), then asked me to purchase a portion of his share of Stenson in the Master’s. We are now a “team” of sorts in that we have a mutual interest in Stenson doing something exceptional at the Master’s. Of course, it would have been handy to know that Stenson has diarrhea so bad that food is going through him like water through a fucking squid, but whining about that now gets me nowhere.
If Stenson misses the Eagle, then he’s a zero. If he makes the Eagle, he’s a 10 (at least in that moment). Stenson sucks – he missed the putt.
Monkey With A Gun 