Slurry Beta

Infrequent ruminations on nothing.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Steven Seagal!

While we all eagerly anticipate "Under Siege 3: Plane Danger" (yes, they're actually planning to make it and yes, that's the tentative title), I just wanted to let all you Steve Heads out there know that he's on tour playing blues-reggae music at a club near you (see photos below). He's also signing autographs after the show so don't forget to bring your VHS copy of "Hard to Kill". In celebration, I have enlisted Bobby Digital to write a review of his most recent album*, which I am almost positive he has. I am also currently drafting the greatest Steven Seagal story you will ever read.

*Bob, will you please write a reveiw of Steven Seagal's latest release? Thanks.

Friday, June 23, 2006


I know very little about Soccer (Football, Footie?). In rural Montana, it was dismissed as a “rich kids' sport" because none of us could afford those fancy shin pads. Actually, to be honest, we just didn’t have enough kids to play it but if we did, we would’ve played without pads like we played football. Once I went to college, I learned to enjoy the game, especially since some of my best friends played for Division III powerhouse the Fightin’ Scots. I still don’t know completely understand it, but I definitely get excited for World Cup, which, to me, is an incredibly entertaining and intriguing sporting event. Unfortunately, a majority of Americans could care less. Many become irritated with the inordinate amount of flopping, the lack of scoring, etc., which is a shame when you consider how important it is to the rest of the world. In fact, I believe El Salvador fought a 100-hour war with Honduras over a soccer match.

Personally, I don’t mind all the flopping. If you work that hard for 90-plus minutes to (maybe) score a single goal, an official’s call your way could mean victory. The thing that annoys me is how frequently the medical teams bring out the stretcher for leg injuries. Can’t they just be helped off the field? Honestly, I haven’t seen that many stretchers since the World Yoga Championships! (Zing!)

Well, it looks like Miami finally ran down their dreams. After winning the first two games, Dallas backed down despite indicating that they wouldn’t even if you stood them up at the gates of hell. By the way, nothing resonates better with NBA fans than the music of Tom Petty. (sarcasm) I couldn’t be happier because I hate Alonzo Mourning so any glimmer of hope that he’ll finally retire is a wonderful notion to me. Me and the 50 people on the kidney transplant list who were skipped over so he could get his new kidney, return to basketball, point his finger in the air 60 times a game and incessantly taunt better players. Was it Richard Jefferson or Kenyon Martin who made him cry in practice a few years back?

As a Timberwolves fan, the end of the playoffs signals the beginning of the most wondrous time of year—the Offseason, where we all just sit back in giddy anticipation as Kevin McFail works his magic. (extreme sarcasm). I would write more but my salty tears are ruining my keyboard.

Roger Clemens’ return from his soul searching hiatus (steroid detox) was on ESPN last night which meant I finally got to see Francisco Liriano pitch. He’s amazing. ESPN ran a graphic describing the deal that landed Liriano: AJ Pierzynski (The Jerk) and cash for Liriano, Boof Bonser, and Joe Nathan. Can the T-Wolves borrow the Twins’ front office for the next few months?

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Jared Fogel: An Underrated Genius of Our Time.

You know Jared Fogel. Everyone does. He’s the guy who lost 250 lbs. eating Subway sandwiches, scored a deal with the Subway Corporation to act as their spokesperson and now, several years later, has etched his nerdy, annoying mug into our collective psyches. Now newborn babies recognize him faster than they do Mickey Mouse. He will soon be represented by a simple silhouette, much like Hitchcock or Jerry West or maybe even just a symbol--like a really cool shield with intertwined letters J and F behind 6-inch sweet onion terriyaki sandwich (with your choice of condiments), all with a background of flames and barbed wire. Awesome.

Let’s review the facts: he’s a terrible actor; the advertisements are criminally lame; he’s lazy (the Subway he frequented while on his infamous diet was in the basement of his apartment building); and he has the charisma of an inanimate object (insert your favorite). In fact, after watching any one of his commercials, I am 90% less likely to go to Subway and choke down a sub. And yet, as angry as his existence makes me, I must consider him one of the great geniuses of contemporary times.

Despite having no redeeming qualities, Jared Fogel has apparently convinced Subway to give him a contract that lasts for his entire lifetime. There can be only one explanation for this: he walked right into Subway headquarters, engaged in an intense battle of wits with the Board of Directors and by shear mental fortitude, convinced them to give him a lifetime spokesman contract and creative rights to all advertisements and promotions. So here’s to you, Jared. I detest everything you stand for, but in the immortal words of Vince Vaughn, “Goddamn, I respect you.”

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Jack Van Impe Has No Testicles

As you all may or may not know, today is June 6, 2006 or 6-6-6 or "Sign of the Beast Day". That means, sometime around 11:30 PM Eastern time, the apocolypse will officially commence. It's about time, too, if you ask me. What with the state of the world and my rent being due and whatnot. I assume most of you have been left unaware that the Rapture is tonight and there's a reason for that: Jack Van Impe has no testicles. I don't mean JVI lacks testicles in the physiological sense. He clearly has a fine set as proven by his steamy on and off-screen love affair (i.e. fundamentalist marriage) with blonde bombshell and television ratings booster, Rexella (see right). I mean "testicles" more in the sense that he has no guts, backbone, or grit. Anyway, I'm sure you got my drift.

We rely on JVI to provide us with up-to-date prophecy on the end of the world as we know it. We buy his books, annotated electronic study bibles, memorization tapes and polka records because they inform us as to when the apocolypse will take place. A genius like Jack doesn't simply forget that today is 6-6-6, he purposely overlooks it because he doesn't have the balls to tell us. Shame on you, Jack. I most certainly will NOT be purchasing your latest DVD Animals in Heaven...actually I would like to know if my old Cocker Spaniel, Annie, is in heaven. But that's the last DVD I'm buying!

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Week in Review: Summer, Beer, Segway Cops

Summer is finally coming to DC after what seemed like a rainy, cold end to spring. For the next several months, I am going to be a hot, sweaty man…in a bad way.

For Memorial Weekend, we did the impossible-bought a keg of beer in DC. For those of you in normal states (or just states and not districts, for that matter) this is probably a common occurrence, but it’s extremely rare to drink beer out of a keg around here. First of all, nobody sells them. I had to apply every ounce of the research skills I learned in college to track down a place inside the district that carried them. Second, nobody has a car to transport them and the metro won’t allow you to take large metallic cylinders filled with liquid on a train. Weird. Anyway, I was lucky enough to have a supportive friend with a car offer to help me out. Once tapped, we immediately commenced grilling and eating copious amounts of meat. Eight hours later, I found myself alone in my back yard placing several ill-advised drunk dials. Just before bed, for good measure, I tipped over a few lawn chairs, and threw my Mardi Gras beer cup across the patio. Good times.

On Tuesday Jigga and I went to watch My Morning Jacket open for Pearl Jam at the Verizon Center in downtown DC. Some background: when I was eleven, I loved to stay at my Aunt’s house for the occasional extended weekend. Not only was she a great, fun aunt but she had cable television. Her TV was like a mysterious portal that allowed me to view magical worlds of immorality, the likes of which could not be seen on rural Montana basic service. Needless to say, I watched a lot of MTV. Pearl Jam was in heavy rotation at the time and when “Jeremy” came on, that was it. I immediately went out, bought the tape and played it in my Walkman until it no longer worked. When my uncle bought my sister Vs. for her birthday, I immediately stole it and listened to it incessantly.

Fourteen years, six albums and several live shows later, I’m still a fan and always buy tickets to any upcoming shows. Their music doesn’t have the same effect on me that it did when I was eleven and I get far more excited when other bands release albums, but I still appreciate them and wholeheartedly believe that their live shows are unparalleled. For me, My Morning Jacket is a close second. So when I heard they were opening for Pearl Jam this year, I was extremely excited.

I almost forgot how much of a scene these shows are. PJ fans are so weirdly rabid; they know every word to every possible song they could sing; they know certain hand movements and possible sing-along portions of all songs; they know when to be excited if a certain rare song is played, etc. It’s pretty sweet when you’re there but as Jigga put it, “it’s like being a guest at the table” if you're not entirely familiar with what goes on. I guess you have to be there to understand.

On the way home I saw a DC cop on a Segway, which is stupid on so many levels. This city might as well buy a fleet of Rascals or “Fat Carts” as I believe Easy E (aka King of the Orange Crate) calls them. I know a certain state fair that should have a ton of extras.