fan hitting and fan sh**ting

No, I'm not going to get full into another potentially great blog entry gone by that happened on my watch-that familiar episode a month ago or so when Ron Artest and Jermaine O'Neil and other Pacers got Pistoned at fans in Detroit and took some of their (roid?) rage out on the most unruly of them. I will say this though, in a little Liver Sports report; Artest-someone I'd been following since he was the apparently lesser of 2 rookies (Elton Brand? Hardly a Brand name...) signed by the Bulls like 5 years ago-was sent up the river for his part in the bro-hah-ha, which is a shame only in that he's one of the more interesting players to follow, despite being a yet another thug in the post-MJ era of the game. I mean, producing a rap cd with an old white lady and then claiming you're exhausted b/c of it? Come on, you can't make that sh*t up. The Nets, the only team I somewhat pay attention to besides the (yawn) Yao Ming/Tracy McGrady tandem, should perhaps p/u aged trouble shooter Jayson williams, don't you think (?), esp. now that they've been reduced to a 2 man team of Cream Puff Carter and the Kan't gut me outa here fast enough Kidd... Baseball has become a year round sport thanks to the cooked up Hot Stove arms race of the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees carrying on their in season rivalry off season. I think that MLB may have gone too far though in arranging for the 2 teams to open AND close the season against one another next year, as if 19 (!) regular season games this past year wasn't enough. It kinda makes it all seem like pro Boxing now, where you can see 2 guys fight each other whether or not they're the 2 most qualified; the "match-up you'd most like to see you no longer have to dream about!". I guess this was comign after they took away all curiosity with Interleague Play. Don't get me wrong, games b/w the Sox and Yanks are like THE best, most euphoric, spine tingling games ever, but making it (selling it) in your face like that may only where this prize rivalry out in the eyes of the public. I for one could give a sh*t about interleague play now... though I soppose a Pedro Met's match-up vs. a randified Yanks could get my attention. The Sox-Yanks rivalry got to where it's at naturally though... well, with the exception of unnatural substance users Sheffield and GiamBalco on the Yanks that is. This offseason saw these 2 teams make some pretty wild moves-the Sox losing Pedro the Whiner (who nonetheless gave them 6 or 7 great years and will always be commended for the money he's put into the DR), Derek (high and) Lowe and Orlando Cabrera, but ratcheting it up a notch on short stop with Edgar Renteria and picking up flame throwing underachievers (so far) Matt Clement and Wade Miller, and big OLD steady bad boy David Wells. The Yanks got a couple ifs on the mound in the overrated Carlos Pavano and potential of yor pitcher Jaret Wright, as well as oldy but a steady infielder Tony Womack, and then really hit it big with their much anticipated aquisition of jerky green back giant Randy "you talkin' to me?" Johnson. I for one am not sure how well he'll deal with the pressure in NYC (or at least perhaps I'm hoping he'll implode), esp. after that first episode where he balked at a cameraman the other day... Well, that's enough Liver Sports, didn't intend to even write so much actually, but I'm so overdue that stuffs gonna start pourin' out me (like Giambis liquifying muscle tissue)...
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Got an almost unbelievable email yesterday about a sublet, see it for yourself... I doubt you'll wanna be looking into it afterwards:

"Hey everyone, friends or whatever you might be, as most of you know, I was recently robbed and stalked my my dog walker. As it turns out, he's not only a disgusting psycho who stole everything that is valuable to me (incl. a tutu, a red lipstick and a Blonde Redhead CD); he also belongs to one of the most powerful Italian families in the W. Village... so I'd better get the h*** out of here, now that I'm pressing charges against him, etc, etc. So i'm moving to the E. Village--finally!!! At least something good came out of the misery! One little thing though-for a couple of reasons, I don't want to break my lease. Rather, I'd like to sublet it. The apt. is a studio w/ a separate kitchen, new appliances that were never used as I hate cooking, old-fashioned style w/ moldings, fireplace (not working) and nice floors. The subway is around the corner (A,C,E,B,D,F,V,1,9). The monthly rent is $1200. Hit me back!!"
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The New Year is fanning the flames on the problems left unfixed of last year (see Iraq, our Gov't., the economy), and the s**t is hitting the fan. I've stayed in decent spirits, perhaps as my brain is still numb from all the spirits ingested (at an outragious pace) over the holidays. But car towings, bank account siezings, open container Sparks drink tickets and "your band's too loud" rants are starting to wear on my nerves. I've an enviable role in a new play, a potentially beautiful thang with a gorgeous n' cool Jennifer Connely-esque girl shaping up and other things to think about-so even though I'm feeling today like iron weights are pressing down on my shoulders, giving them a Joaquin Pheonix-style slope (something I'll take if it means a career like his is looming), I'm not complaining. Yes, my friends, these stream of consciousness rants of mine are not complaints, but more like raves, done with a semi-E like smile. It's important to remember that things could always be worse. "Mia culpe" as my moms always says... here are a few succinct celebrity reviews to end this entry on:

Oliver Platt -head is fat
Adrian Brody -pretentious scare crow
David Grohl -more goliath then david, I mean this dude's blocky
Johnny Cash -Hi, he's __________. Regal man (in black)
Kris Kristopherson -mini Kris
Selma Blair -blair bitch style, smokin' (I thought)
Jake Gylenhall -acts older, no shoulders
Quentin Tarrentino -coke lobster
Jim Jarmusch -if Don King morphed w/ Johnny or Edgar Winter
Martin Scorsese -seemed eager to pleasy
James Taylor -Two Lane Two Penny Loafer
Debby Harry -sexy n' scary
Dee Dee Ramone -gone Dee Dee gone
Krist Novoselic -doesn't he play for the Dallas Mavericks? Krist figure in fact
Ivanka Trump -lil' tramp should get chin implant (whom I kidding, she was hot, chin or not)
Evander Holyfield -muscles in his head
Vince Gallo -shallow
Chloe Sevigne -where'd you goe Chloe? wanted to talk to you (and ask you why you did Vince "shallow" Gallo)

...damn, if I rack my brain these'll keep comin'. That's enough for today, got stuff to do.

Backstay

Ohhhhh may-aaaannn, where have I been? I stopped sharing my quicko sicko thoughts with the public in September 2004 on a whim b/c I was just so damn busy, and sick of writing about what would end up being the most completely hopeless Election year ever. I never imagined though that 3.5 months would sail by without my writing to you not even once (oh, I wrote-songs, reviews, manifestos on toilet paper and great walls w/ a sawed-off fish spewing sea water, just not here)-hell, I actually even forgot my password and user name it turned out when I tried to blog on tonight, and my computer cookies swallowed any leftover data, so I wasted a good chunk o' time throwing out possible user names and passwords that I mighta woulda coulda used or something. I even thought for a minute that the Blogue and Magogue powers that be had given up on me and decided to banish me from scratching out my thoughts on their chalkboard again. Finally, the secret seseme bagel dawned on me like lookin' @ my mug in a spittin' clean plate, and voila, here I is again. Really, every week I've gotten these site meter emails sayin' that so many so an sos and whomayacallems that I've never had the good fortune to meet have been spending their quality time reading my garbled thoughts of yor, STILL chuckling perhaps @ past "snottings" that have carmelized like dinosaur dung in amber, and I've kept saying along the way "oh, I'll get back to it...", but I never have obviously, and the thoughts that should've made it to the small screen have been piling up like my dirty socks in that corner of my room that I never set foot in and, well, it started lookin' like I'd never blow an' wipe my slate clean for y'all again. Then tonight, amisdst no other emails that came in, I got a few messages at home base that my blog had touched the hearts (or privates) of a few people, and I even got a comment from some guy tellin' me that I got something wrong in a post from like August or something-that's dedication damnit, and they deserve better then what i haven't been given' em. No, i'm not gonna say "you love me, you really love me!", but I will just say that baby, I am back to the egg on my face in black spin talkin slide listin' lash handed ground stagin' chain gang o' slang smothered in saddle soap an' pootie tang stoppin' future strokin' woods water yard trackin' drop bitin' seat drivin' business yo. The last few months have seen lotsa, well, lotsa lotsa. I still bust it w/ my band Rollo (though we almost combusted it over the duration), an' we have some good gigs a comin' up @ Sin-e 1/12, Lit 1/26, the Pussycat Lounge 2/5 and Delancey 2/23. I'm also acting out as per usual, with a new play in the near horizon called "Countdown", in which I play some loveable counselor guy who ends up scandelously molestin' an underage girl, and a film called "Trade", in which I play some evil FBI dude in the future who's out to corrupt any which way he can. I will, as I get used to bloggin' again (it's a whole other mindset of fingers that make this sludge slide so slicklike on the screen) try to recap the last few months too to the best of my knowledge or lack thereof-months which saw not only the continued evidence of the downfall of our society as we know it, but also 2 events that affected me directly, good and bad: an amazingly unexpected world series triumph by the Beantown Red Sox, and the Tsunami disaster so unfathomable in scope that no matter how or where I write it down on here it trivializes it. By no means have I given up also on commenting on our Gov't. Crime Lords, and I promise to heap my views upon y'all as much as ever-perhaps even more now that I'm so well, uh... rested. As to the Red Sox victory (and Beltran, sneaky Pete and the Omar Maniacal Mets, as well as RJ and the Spanked Yankee$, the Carter-era Nets, Kobe/Shaq n' Boggs' plaque, Bonds, Giambi an' the Shefs coctail peanut sized balls and Mientkiewvviwkmsiheexaitz gall), well you can rest assured my friends that Liver Sports will rear it's ugly head again and again, as well as reviews of cds and those mini-bites of celebs I used to do that you all love and detest so much, etc. Yeah, it's all comin' back in 2005, bigger, faster, stranger. Hell, I may even throw some sexual exploits into the mix, you know, just for fun. Catch you on the flipside.