I Want To "Get Figgy With It" This Christmas

The Christmas celebration has begun, but we are leaving something out of Christmas that is very important.   Something that was once an integral part of the holiday is now missing.  Something that is so essential to the day that if it were reinstated it would transform the culture and make Christmas the joyous occasion it once was. 

Of course I am talking about pudding.  Back in the old days, and by old days I mean the 1500’s, pudding was a key part of Christmas.  As evidence I present the Christmas carol “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” verses two and three are as follows: 

Now, bring us some figgy pudding;
Now, bring us some figgy pudding;
Now, bring us some figgy pudding and bring some out here

We won't go until we get some;
We won't go until we get some;
We won't go until we get some, so bring some out here

You notice that these people are demanding, not politely asking, for figgy pudding.  And this is not negotiable, because they won’t leave until “we get some” (which interestingly is Lounge Lizard Larry’s strategy at the single’s bar on a Saturday night).  These guys in the 1500’s were getting “figgy” with it. 

And old recipes for Christmas pudding have been passed down (maybe on ancient, sacred, scrolls) from the pudding makers of yore.  From these nearly medieval manuscripts we find that pudding masters would combine the most expensive, delicious, ingredients into a holiday delicacy.  But over the years, the significance of pudding at Christmastime has faded into oblivion.

Delicious Christmas Pudding

And what Christmas traditions have replaced the pudding?  Consider these:

Bargain Campers

These morons camp out for four days so they can be first in line to get cheap stuff at the electronics store.  Hey idiots, consider this: if your time is of such little worth that you can waste four days “camping” on concrete, you don’t need a new big-screen TV, you need a new life! And you can’t buy one in that store!

Brawling Shoppers 

Have you seen the video of the guys wailing on each other at the Victoria Secret store on Black Friday?  Nothing says Merry Christmas like a punch in the face.  When men are fighting over women’s panties and there is no actual woman in those panties, there is something seriously wrong.

Gift Cards 

Giving a gift card means that I did not take the time to try to figure out what you might want or need as a gift.  Neither did I make the effort to drive to the store, make a selection, and stand in line to pay for it.  No, here’s a cheap piece of plastic.  Now you go and buy your own #!*$ gift!   Merry freaking Christmas!

Lame Christmas Music 

There has not been a new, good, Christmas song written in years.  This causes radio stations to play Mariah Carey’s “All I Need For Christmas Is You” fifty times every day in December.  Overexposure to this song is the number one cause of people tossing their Christmas cookies.  No, we desperately need some new songs and those songs should all be about the joy of eating Christmas pudding.  

The Solution 

All this crap has sucked all the real joy right out of Christmas.  The best way to put the joy back in, is pudding because there are few greater joys in life than eating delicious homemade pudding.  Instead of loading up our credit cards with enough debt to last us to August, we should load up our bellies with scrumptious Christmas pudding made from the finest ingredients available.  We should all make pudding and then invite our neighbors and friends over to enjoy it.  This would make Christmas a special time once more. 

Putting pudding back in Christmas would revolutionize the holiday.  I believe even atheists would celebrate Christmas if it involved several days of pudding eating.  Heck we may pick up a few Jews and Hindus too.

So people, let’s get figgy with it once again and start putting pudding back in Christmas (and do it right here!).  And while you’re at it, don’t scrimp on the good tidings.

I Don’t Get A Kick Out Of Soccer

Soccer is my least favorite of the major sports.  I never played it during my athletic days and I’m not sure it even existed when I was in high school.  I don’t think you have to be very skilled to play it.  I mean all you do is just run around and kick a ball.  You learn to kick when you are still in the womb and you’re running by age three, so how hard can it be?

I can’t get serious about a sport where guys run around in shorts outdoors.  In addition, I am uncomfortable with men giving cards to other men during the game. Come on; is this a party or a real sport?

I know soccer is currently gaining popularity in this country, but then so is socialism.  I have heard that many mothers have started playing the game.  I assume that these “soccer moms” are attempting to lose their baby fat and fit back into their “misses” jeans and of course I support that effort.

I know that soccer is very popular in Europe, but then so is socialism (coincidence?).  They take their soccer very serious over there.  Often there are riots, car burnings and even deaths after a team loses an important match.

I find this very strange, because soccer is extremely boring to watch.  It is not even as exciting as baseball, where between all the spitting, scratching and stepping out of the batter’s box, the ball is actually only in play for a few minutes in an average game. 

But soccer is so boring that if you gave me the choice between watching a soccer match and a NASCAR race, I’ll go redneck on ya.  I am not a NASCAR fan because it consists of going around in circles at high speed, but never really getting anywhere, which also too closely describes my life.  In addition, I can’t get into a “sport” where the most exciting parts are when something goes wrong and people almost die.  Sorry, that happens all the time at work, I don’t need to see any more of that on the weekend.

Because of all these things, I never thought that I would ever watch an entire soccer match.  But in 2010 the University of Akron, my alma mater, played for the NCAA Division I Championship.   I could only watch parts of the earlier games in the tournament before falling into a deep sleep, but I got my nachos and birch beer and planted myself in front of my big screen for the big game.

And I discovered something very strange about watching an entire soccer game.  It is different than watching any other sport.  It is very difficult to score a goal in soccer.  It can take much time and effort to move the ball the length of the field before there is even a chance to score.  A team can go an excruciating long time before even attempting a shot.

This wanting your team to score but having to wait so long to do so, builds up a tension that is comparable to only one other feeling known to man.  And I do mean man, not human kind.  Men reading this know what I am talking about and the women reading this are smart enough to figure it out.

This tension is why there is a mass orgasmic celebration when a team scores.  It is why the announcer shouts “GOALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!  It is why there is a rapturous celebration by the players.  I will even condone all the male hugging that occurs, because after all, some guy has penetrated the net and actually scored.

When guys need to score and are prohibited from doing so, bad things happen.  This explains why buildings get burned, cars get torched and people die, when fans of losing soccer teams express their pent up frustration.

This is not a unique concept.  Psychologists have done many studies on how the performance of sport teams affects the sexual performance of their male fans.  I remember reading about a study that found that fans of winning NFL teams had higher testosterone levels and had more sex than the fans of losing teams.   This explains why the population of Cleveland, Ohio continues to plummet.  Fans of the Cleveland Browns have not had any sex in years. 

Currently the University of Akron soccer team is ranked number one in the nation and is expected to make a deep run in the NCAA tournament that is currently underway.  Time to stock up on nachos, birch beer and … ice!

Update: My University of Akron Zips were defeated and knocked out of tournament on November 25, so I set my neighbor's car on fire.

Mooning The Old School Way

One of the worst fashion trends of the past few years is young, urban, males going “beltless” and letting their britches hang too low.   Of course this makes them look totally stupid.   Now I’m not saying they are stupid.  I mean I don’t want you associate the concept of stupid with this in any way.  Forget I even brought up the term stupid at all, although even Forrest Gump was able to master the use of a belt.

I will give these fashion freaks the benefit of the doubt.  They may be too poor to afford a belt.  However if they are wearing $200 Le Bronner basketball shoes, the problem could be bad financial management.  For the others, I propose the forming the charity “Belts For Buttcracks”.

Perhaps these chaps are just ignorant.  People have been using belts to hold up garments for around 4,000 years, but maybe more education is needed.  A solution might be as easy as “Belting” classes in school.  “After threading the belt through the loops on your trousers, pull the belt tight and then buckle. Great, now let’s try it again!”

These classes would not have been necessary many years ago at my high school.  If anyone would have shown up with their slacks hanging that low, they would have immediately gotten “pantsed”.  I am sure of this because one day my friend John wore some new, “odd” pants to school.  Unfortunately those pants were down around his ankles before first period.  This wasn’t being mean, it wasn’t being bullied.  It was to teach you than when you do something too peculiar, there are negative consequences.  Learning how to conform to society norms is an important part of your education.

But upon further review, I believe there is an obvious purpose for this fashion statement.  I believe these guys are just displaying a continuous, quarter-moon.   If prescription medicine can be delivered in a continuous, low-dosage, method, so can a moon.

However if this is the case: YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG!

Once again I must take you back to my old high school days because some of the guys at my school were very skilled mooners.  And the best mooner of all was “Billy the Mooner”.  Billy would hold the Guinness World Record for number of people mooned if statistics were available.  If you upset Billy in any way or were an isolated woman (rated higher than a “5”), he would shoot you the moon.  (Now there was nothing at all wrong with this since sexual harassment did not exist back then).

Billy was a mooning machine.  He had more moon shots than NASA.  On his wedding day he mooned his honey before doing anything else. Of course this was after he had mooned all the bridesmaids. 

When it came to mooning, Billy was an expert marksman.  I once saw him moon a teacher during summer break at 50 yards.  If mooning was an Olympic event, Billy would have a pile of gold medals.

Olympic announcer: “Look at that moon shot! He really nailed that one, didn’t he Megan?  Megan? Are you okay?  Here let me help you up.”

Billy never joined the military because he would rather moon the enemy than shoot the enemy.  However now that we are fighting some people who are greatly offended by exposed buttocks, maybe Billy would be considered a weapon of mass destruction.

And Billy so loved to moon people.  After a successful, satisfying, moon, Billy would flash his “moon grin” which signified: Mission accomplished, target mooned.  He also was a master of the moon-and-dash.  He could drop his drawers, shoot the moon and escape before his victims knew what hit them.

Warren Moon

And Billy was a great leader.  He even orchestrated some impressive “gang moons” in the old neighborhood.   Of course I never was able to witness the full splendor of these group moons, because uh, because er, because I was somehow always facing the opposite direction.

So my advice to this new generation of young mooners; don’t do this half-assed, well I guess in your case, don’t do this quarter -assed.  If you are going to shoot the moon, shoot the full moon and then run like hell to make your get-a-way. And you are going to need a belt because you can’t run very fast if your pants are dragging on the ground.

My Big Presidential Endorsement

I thought it would be a good idea to remind everyone the presidential election in just two weeks away, just in case you have been living under a rock the past few months.  Of course there is no need to remind anyone here in Ohio, since it is considered a “swing” state.  This does not mean that we are frequently engaging in kinky sex.  No, it means that we have not decided yet who we will vote for.  Of course it is difficult to concentrate on politics when you are having so much kinky sex.                

This campaign has been rather contentious.  It has divided families, it has divided co-workers, and in the most serious rift, it has divided Facebook friends.  It’s just like the Civil War except for all the dead bodies and that succession thing.  People are posting stupid, inane, bigoted and outright ridiculous things on Facebook and these are just from the candidates.  My Facebook friends are posting much worse.

In order to end the war between my Facebook friends, help my Filipino Facebook friends decide who to vote for and most importantly, to stop the constant political phone calls and the pile of daily political mailings, I have decided to make my much anticipated presidential endorsement.

My Choice

My Guy has the correct position on all of the issues.  And even when he is proven wrong on an issue, he backtracks with grace and dignity and quickly develops new positions which are even more excellent than the previous ones.  However, Your Guy is an unprincipled, flip-flopper who is very shady.  My Guy is always totally honest on all things.  Your Guy is a bold-faced liar who can’t be trusted on anything.  My Guy waxes eloquently, while Your Guy has wax in his ears and can’t even hear the voice of the people.

I have heard some very disturbing things about Your Guy’s religious beliefs.  I am concerned that he is some “wacko” nut job whose weird beliefs surely influence every decision that he makes.  My Guy’s religious beliefs are very mainstream and he is very close to sainthood.    

My Guy’s political ads clearly state the truth with no distortions and deceit whatsoever.   However, Your Guy runs ads that are so silly they are laughable.  Nothing in these ads is true, especially the outrageous lies about My Guy.

I think by now we know which candidate is the best master debater.  Your Guy was rude, dishonest and disrespectful.  My Guy acted with the utmost dignity and displayed an almost angelic demeanor.  I do realize that both guys were too aggressive in the second debate, but I attribute that to them trying to impress that gorgeous hunk of woman, Candy Crowley, who is one part Victoria Secret model and one part Chicago Bears linebacker. Groooowl!

My Guy selected a Catholic running mate who is a living embodiment of God.  However, I have heard priests criticize Your Guy’s Catholic running mate as being a sinner and no better than a Baptist!  Your Guy’s grandfather had multiple wives in a foreign country and My Guy’s grandfather, uh, okay let’s forget that one.

I fully believe all the polls that show My Guy winning the election.  These polls are done by outstanding research firms that utilize the best practices available.  The polls that show Your Guy ahead are total rubbish.  They use methods such as voodoo, Ouija boards and fortune tellers to get their numbers.  And these polls totally ignore My Guy’s ability to inspire the electorate and make a stunning comeback.

So I believe the choice is obvious.  For all these reasons, I am strongly endorsing “My Guy” for President of the United States.  And may I add that Your Guy is a total doo-doo head.

May God bless My Guy and may God bless the United States of America!

These Are My Teams – Now Stop Laughing!

It’s football season in Northeast Ohio and this means I am cheering on my three favorite teams to victory.  Okay for two them, I’m actually just yelling a lot.  But I have noticed that “my” teams all have odd nicknames which warrant some discussion.

College: The University of Akron

Team Name: Zips

The team at my alma mater was originally named the “Zippers” after a new rubber boot that featured this new-fangled closure.  The name had to be changed a few years later when zippers became an important part of men’s trousers.  This would have been a great opportunity to select a new name, but no, the bad name was just shortened to Zips.

The name Zips can mean a quick movement or it means nothing, as in “you got zip”.  This latter meaning is very useful to headline writers whenever an Akron team gets shutout.  The name also made developing a mascot difficult.  If the school was true to its heritage, it would have a guy in a huge rubber boot jumping around the field.  Instead a great mascot “Zippy” (a kangaroo) was created and actually was named Capital One Mascot of the Year in 2007.  It could have been worse; they could have gone more generic and named the team the Akron Rubbers.

College: Ohio State University

Team Name: Buckeyes

You might be surprised that I cheer for two college teams, but almost everyone in the state of Ohio roots for the Buckeyes.  It my case I have to.  The other two teams mentioned in this post have a combined 6-33 record dating back to the start of last season, so if I want to back a “winner”, this is my team.

Ohio State is having a great season, but is ineligible to compete for the national championship because the team is on probation.  Apparently this is due to some people valuing something called “institutional integrity” over the players being able to receive free tattoos!  This is an outrage.  Nothing should ever trump the opportunity to receive free tats.  Come on man, it’s part of the uniform!

However, “Buckeyes” is a ridiculous name. Of course the buckeye is the state nut, but why does Ohio even need an official nut?  The buckeye is also inedible, which means it is a useless nut.  So Ohio State fans, your team represents a useless nut.  The name is laughable.  No other team is named after a nut.  You don’t see the Arizona Almonds playing the Wisconsin Walnuts, do you?

The mascot is Brutus Buckeye, which is a tall student running around with a huge nut for his head.  Unfortunately this resembles a, well ah, okay it looks like something you would see at a fertility festival.  This is why you never see Brutus interacting with the cheerleaders. The cheerleaders are not allowed to hug, squeeze, or sit on top of him.  And under no circumstances are they allowed to rub or kiss his head for good luck.  The last time that happened, poor Brutus suffered some stiffness that last more than four hours and had to seek medical attention.

NFL Team: Cleveland

Name: The Browns

There are only a few things in the world that are naturally the color brown, and most, let’s say “dirt” for instance, are unpleasant (politically correct insert: this does not include people!). The team was named after Paul Brown, the first coach, but that was a long time ago.  You should never name teams after people, because things change. Just imagine if a team had been named the Penn State Paternos? Paul Brown was eventually fired, so now most people believe the team is named after the color.

The name Browns makes having a mascot difficult.  They tried having “Brownie the Elf”, but a weak, boyish, symbol does not instill fear in an opponent.  And you can’t have someone running around in a long brown sock with eye holes. This would scare the children and would risk having the mascot being continually picked up and disposed of by stadium maintenance. The sad part is that since the new Browns have returned to Cleveland they have played like brown stuff, smelly brown stuff.  

Because I am a Browns fan, many people have asked me if the recent passing of the former owner, who moved the team to Baltimore, has caused me to change my opinion of him.  Of course it has.  What type of callous, uncaring, person do you think I am?  Before, I regarded him as a bastard. Now, I regard him as a dead bastard.

   

Gazing Upon the Royal Jewels

Truth #1 – The Internet is a wonderful thing because it allows you to see anything and everything.  The Internet is also a terrible thing because it allows you to see anything and everything, including things that you should not see.

Truth #2 – Teenage boys have a burning desire to see things they are not allowed to look at.  As men grow older this desire is tempered because men are permitted to see more things than boys, however the temptation never really goes away.

The Duchess Kate

And now these two truths are on a collision course so epic that civilization may temporarily come to a grinding halt.  The alarming event in question is the soon to be released topless photos of Kate Middleton, the Duchess of Cambridge. 

Now this wasn’t a case of “Princesses Gone Wild”.  Kate did not flash her goodies to get some beads. She already has all the “real” beads she needs. No, some photographer, who reportedly is a former teenage boy, snapped some long-range photos of Kate while she was sunbathing topless on a private beach.

This is an outrageous violation of Kate’s privacy.   They may post the photos, but this is something that should not be seen by anyone.  No one should look at it.  This means that soon after the photos are posted, millions of men throughout the world will jump on the Internet to get a glimpse of the royal ta-tas.  I fully expect the entire Internet to totally freeze up until every man in the world with an Internet connection is able to adequately ogle the duchess.  This threatens to crash the entire Internet as we know it.

To save the Internet we may have to bring in Officer Barbrady from South Park to declare: “Move along people. Nothing to see here.” And I do believe there is not going to be much to see.  While Kate is a certified royal babe, she is considered to be “lithe”.  This means that she could not get a job at Hooters.  She has no trouble jumping rope and she can easily see her feet while standing.  Her cups, even when measured in milliliters appear (when clothed) to be modest.

Of course after the men of the world finish gawking, many women will also view the photos.  They will want to see how they measure up compared to the duchess.  All women want to be princesses and a duchess is very close to that.  Many will think: “Look at that.  My goodies are better than her royal jewels.  Perhaps the Duke would like to upgrade from princess size to queen size.”  They believe this because in life, as in poker, two queens beats a small pair.   

This scandal will be very embarrassing for poor Kate.  I know it is sure to be very awkward the next time I see her.  I will have to be careful not to talk about my vacation to the Flatlands and not to mention the firmness of the mini-muffins being served at the party.  And if Kate had any ideas about discretely enhancing the royal treasure chest, she can foggetaboutit because everyone will have seen a “before” photo.

On the other hand, the photos represent just how far we have progressed as a civilization.  In olden days a commoner could be put to death for even accidently viewing royal naughty bits, but now everyone can see the spectacles from the privacy of their own homes.  Heck, you can even project the image on your big screen TV if you wish.

Now some will argue that you should not view these photographs because of their salacious content.  But I am giving men everywhere permission to look based on creative grounds.  You see, these photos should not be considered pornographic, but because they are of royalty, they should be considered art.  They are just as much art as the ancient statues of some old chicks which displayed large, naked, jugs.  So guys, go ahead and enjoy an enchanting, inspiring, experience.  Ahhhhhh, euphoric.

Just don’t peruse the photos too long.  And remember; keep both hands on the keyboard at all times.

Sunny Beaches and Sons of Beaches

Last month I vacationed in Florida.  Usually this lets me experience what it’s like to live in oppressive heat.  This summer I did not need to leave home for that.  I should have just thrown some sand in my backyard and saved the airfare.

But vacation means getting out and experiencing new places and new people.  And of course, I encountered some very interesting people:

The Chunky Thigh Girls

I quickly noticed that a fashion trend this summer is short shorts.  But of course these should only be worn by women with proportional thighs.  There were several women walking around the airport flashing some very chunky thighs.   The women of the ‘70s took great care to hide their thunder thighs, but not these gals.  Maybe it’s because guys are heavier now and don’t mind bigger thighs on their women.

So my worry sitting on the runway (it was a full flight) was if the aeronautic engineers had accounted for all the chunky thighs (including mine) and if the plane could actually lift all this added thigh weight off the ground.  Fortunately it did!

The Cell Phone Zombies

I was surprised when a young woman walked slowly past me as I was exiting the airport men’s room.  It took her several seconds to casually stroll back out. I wondered what was going on until I noticed she was deep in conversation on her cell phone. 

I thought this was funny until I had to dodge several more cell phone zombies in the airports during the trip.  By the end, I was tempted to knock the next one flat on his back  and when he looked up I would say: “Can you see me now? Good.” 

Mr. I-Pod

This guy on the plane was bobbing his head and shaking violently. I was worried he was having a seizure, but apparently he was just really into the music on his I-Pod.  He saw me staring at him and reacted like there was something wrong with me.  Oh no Mr. I-Pod, you are the weirdo because you look stupid.  Besides that, he was wearing a woven anklet.  Guys should never, ever, wear any jewelry below the chest (and no nipple rings).

The Newspaper Thief

Some goofball on the plane asked to see a section of my newspaper then failed to return it.  On my return flight I prevented this from happening by use of something called Wi-Fi and a Kindle.  Stick it thief boy!

The Very Pregnant Woman (In the Atlanta airport)

I could tell just how pregnant she was because she was wearing a super tight, super shear, “pregnancy sock”.  Yes I’m happy you’re pregnant, but I don’t want to share this intimately in the moment.  If you wouldn’t wear something this revealing before you were preggers, why the hell would you wear it now?  And why are you flying anyway?  Crying babies on planes are bad enough, but I don’t any new babies popping out during my flight.

Bad Fashion Guy

There was this old guy in a restaurant sporting sweat pants held up by a pair of suspenders.  This looked hideous and is not acceptable under any circumstances.  No matter how cheap you are, when the elastic wears out in your sweat pants; it’s time to buy a new pair.

The “Hey Where’s My Sink Guy”

That would be me.  There are no sinks in the newly remodeled Jacksonville Airport.  There is a long, slanted, marble slab with motion activated water and soap dispensers sticking out of the wall.  It is very disconcerting when you turn the corner to wash your hands and there are no sinks.

Mr. and Mrs. Sea Turtle Sex Experts

The couple proudly tells you that they have devoted their entire lives promoting the propagation of sea turtles and fully expect you to be impressed.  It was also humorous the way their faces lit up when they explained sea turtle sex.  I did learn that it must be very dark for sea turtles to mate.  This means either the females are very modest or the males are turned off by the sight of the female’s chunky thighs.  

The 40 Year-Old Woman in the Mini Bikini  

20 years ago she probably looked smoking-hot in this outfit and to her credit the “southern” hemisphere was well preserved and very impressive for a woman her age.  However the “northern” hemisphere was suffering the effects of child-bearing, gravity and perhaps even global-warming, which had greatly affected the topography of the region.  The capital of the northern region was no longer the city of Twin Buttes, but Sagamore Hills (an actual place in Ohio).  She was hanging loose and hanging low and the mini bikini top provided only minimal coverage in front and even less from the side.  During a conversation with her she was waving her arms a lot which of course caused the pendulums to swing wildly. I was afraid one of the sandbags was going to bust loose and slap me in the face.