Giants feast on the skulls of their enemies; more on page 2

I will not blog about the weather. I will not blog about the weather.

No, I am here to talk about YOUR SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS and their CRUSHING VICTORY yesterday. In the past 2 days, they have scored over 102 runs while homering 26 times and holding the Reds to CONSTANT HUMILIATION. Everyone homered 3 times and Jonathan Sanchez gave up a couple of homers just to lead them on and make them think they were in it.

What's that, Cincinnati Enquirer? Giants again pound Reds, 16-5? That's right. Pablo Sandoval grabbed a 32-ounce bat, walked out to the pitcher's mound, and LITERALLY BEAT TRAVIS WOOD TO DEATH WITH IT. Paramedics arriving on the scene called it a "horror" and said "Normal, functioning humans should never have to look at something like that. I'm going to get sick. Get out of the way unless you want paramedic vomit on you."

You think this doesn't feel good? Were you sitting next to me freezing your fucking ass off in May when they lost 7-3 to the fucking Nationals? How about when they scored ZERO FUCKING RUNS against the Rockies and Blue Jays and God, yes, the Dodgers, and even the Cards just this past Sunday? Remember that? That fucking sucked ass. So yes, permit me to gloat a little.

I don't know if this is a playoff team or if last night was an aberration but I can tell you it felt nice to sit on my Comfy Chair with all the doors and windows in my house open sweating like a motherfucker and drink a few beers and watch my offense-starved team score runs like the 1936 Yankees.


Hmmmmmmm.

[UPDATE: Somebody bought the tickets pictured above ALREADY. FUCK. Well, I guess I'll just stay at my stupid JOB and PRETEND TO WORK like every other day.]

Mad Men #5: Riding the Honda

This episode was all about masturbation and Peggy riding a Honda motorcycle in a circle, although not at the same time.

So here’s what I want to know: Which sitcom is missing a sassy, wisecracking old secretary? Because Miss Blankenship seems like she just wandered in from the set of “Rhoda" or something. Sure, she’s a hoot, but it’s weird. Anyway, tonight our main plot is about getting the Honda account. Pete likes it. Roger doesn’t like it because he was in WW II and is still mad. Bert likes it because he’s already a big fan of tentacle porn and sake bombs. Hey, I’ve got an idea about how to make this work for everybody! Get the account and then do an ad with a kamikaze motorcyclist! Win-win!

Don’s got the kids but he’s going out with Bethany so he gets Neighbor Nurse to do some babysitting. She doesn’t do a very good job and Sally gives herself what is actually a pretty fashion-forward, choppy kind of cut with a lot of layers. Sally is now eligible to become the lead singer in a Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover band. Unfortunately the Yeah Yeah Yeahs won’t be invented for another 40 years. Anyway, I guess cutting your own hair is the 1965 version of cutting. Sally’s a hot mess. I can’t wait for her to grow up and start smoking hella weed and banging every longhair with a guitar in sight. Don doesn’t share my artistic vision and is pissed about Sally’s new do. Whatever, Don, chillax. Just because Ted Chaoughaugh shit all over you at Benihana doesn’t mean that Sally’s not cool as shit.

January Jones is back in my life and all is well! Oh, she drunk again. That January Jones. Sally comes home and she slaps the kid! Jesus! If she did that to Don, they’d still be together. You’re slapping the wrong Draper, Betts!

Back at the office, the Japanese arrive and there’s some hijinx with the translations. Man, I love a good translation subtitle joke. That shit never fails. Pete’s handing out cantaloupes and Johnnie Walker when Roger comes in and blows up the whole deal. Wow, what a shitbird Roger is. You gotta let it go, man!

David McCallum from Man from U.N.C.L.E.: Hot or Not? Sally votes “hot.” Eww, gross, there is not going to be any way to get through this without it being super uncomfortable. OK, Sally gets busted…we’re going to need a euphemism here. Riding the Honda? Sally gets busted Riding the Honda. Other Mom rushes Sally home and rats her out to Betts. Time for more beatings! And finger removal surgery! Oh, Cryptkeeper has a little more perspective since he’s seen this kind of thing before over the last 150 years. He is a Calming Voice of Reason and we will send Sally to first of many, many mental health professionals she will be seeing during her life.

Next, we have a mini-Caper Movie within the show. Don has a Plan: they’re going to make Chaoughaugh think they’re working on something when they’re not! That’s what I do every single day at work! I would perfect for this! False leads are planted and there are meetings with directors and blahdeddy blah it all works because Don just Gets Shit Done.

Here comes Faye. She finally fucking says what everyone has been thinking for 3 years: “I don’t know how people drink the way you do around here.” She says this as she’s tossing back a little Lunchtime Sake with Don. Humorously, my Mom said the exact same thing last time she came to visit! Anyway, I have just about had it with Faye and Don not fucking. For Christ’s sakes, people, let’s get our shit together.

We will now wrap this up. Betty tells the therapist that she wishes Cryptkeeper had met her Dad, I guess because they could have traded Revolutionary War stories. Roger’s office looks like Lime, but without the bottomless mimosas and house music. SDCP somehow ends up with the Honda account and I’m not sure how it all went down but I think Don gave them a check for $3000 and that did it. Still no mention of the Rolling Stones.

Eyes of the Snake: A Harrowing True Story of Terror and Survival

I knew this day had to come. I just didn't know it was going to be today.

Let me back up. Years ago, when The Wife was still Super Hot Irish Girlfriend, she disclosed that she had one crippling phobia: an intense, irrational fear of snakes. Now whether this has something to do with Ireland being snake-free (and mad props to St. Patrick for that) or is just One of Those Things, I don't know. What I do know is that she once said "If I were in a locked room with a snake and a gun, I would use it to kill myself because I wouldn't be able to go on." It's, like, that bad.

So I knew that one day we would probably be out somewhere and see an actual snake and I just hoped she wouldn't do what she said she would do if she ever saw a snake in the wild, which is have a heart attack and die.

That day, ladies and gentlemen, was today.

Around 1:00 p.m., we took the dog and went up to Bernal Hill, since it was nice out and dogs can run off-leash up there and that's his Thing. Parked the car at the bottom of the hill and got out and started up the pathway that goes up and around the hill. We had maybe gone 40 feet when she grabbed my arm and said "FUCK." I looked up the hill and there it was. Maybe 4 to 5 feet long, crawling across the paved path. Maybe 20 feet ahead. It looked pretty fucking big, actually.

Note: actual snake may have been slightly smaller.

She started breathing really hard and crying. I comforted her by saying "Pull yourself together." She did not find that very comforting. I put my arm around her and we turned around and headed back to the car. She actually held it together pretty well. We passed the same family at the bottom of the hill that we had passed going up about 45 seconds earlier. I wonder what they thought I did to that poor lady.

So we drove away and everyone lived but it was an Extremely Unpleasant Experience. She was fine by about 20 minutes later. By then she was texting people to tell them how she escaped from a 25 to 30-foot snake who was attacking her. We ended up taking the dog to Crissy Field, which worked out fine for him because he likes that even better.

The Wife's OK now. She's never going to Bernal Hill again, though.

And in today's distressing polling news

About a third of the people polled by Time magazine think Obama's a Muslim. 46% of Republicans do. Wrap your head around that for a minute.

(It occurs to me that there's probably a huge amount of overlap between people that think this and people who thought Obama was under the thrall of Jeremiah Wright. You can't have it both ways, people. Either he's a Wright-Christian or a Muslim. Pick your poison.)

(You know what else about the whole Jeremiah Wright thing? Who the fuck listens in church? You and I both know Obama was sitting there going "Just 25 more minutes and I can get home and watch the fucking Bears. Oh God will this guy ever shut the fuck up.")

Muslims have to pray like 6 times a day and there's a whole thing with a rug and pointing towards Mecca and whatnot and do you think for a second that the President of the United States could get away with this without someone noticing and going "Oh, hey, I wonder why the President kneels down on his little rug with the Presidential seal 6 times a day. What's up with that?" The White House Press Corps is so far up his ass that they can report on what he had for breakfast based on personal observation from inside his duodenum. You think they're going to whiff on him worshipping Allah? Bitch please.

Personally, I don't want my President to be any religion at all. The last thing I want is for the one person who can destroy the planet to believe that the Afterlife is a good place to be. Fuck that, I want him to think that This Life is the best and should be preserved at all costs.

That being said, my best guess is that, religion-wise, Obama is probably like a lot of guys his age who went to Columbia undergrad and Harvard Law - basically agnostic, but goes to church because it's expected in his social circle. And if I'm right, FINE BY ME.

I guess we shouldn't be surprised. 48% of people believe in ghosts. LOOK OUT WHAT'S THAT BEHIND YOU!?! Just kidding, there's nothing behind you. 23% of people believe in "witches," whatever the fuck that means.

BUT WAIT! It gets even better! I love this shit:

When Americans are asked to identify the country from which America gained its independence, 76% correctly name Great Britain. A handful, 2%, think America's freedom was won from France, 3% mention some other country (including Russia, China, and Mexico, among others named), while 19% are unsure.

19% are unsure! Love it. That roughly correlates with the 18% who think the Sun revolves around the Earth. Teach the controversy, I say!

Why am I blathering on about this? I don't know. Let's go get a drink. It's Friday.

In which I turn into Go Fug Yourself or something

I don't know anything about style or fashion. I have to take my sister with me when I shop for clothes so I don't accidentally buy green and orange plaid or a jacket with zippers on it or whatever.

I also am only vaguely aware of who Taylor Momsen is. Some kind of teen actress/singer/whatever, I guess. I don't really know. Does she have something to do with "Gossip Girl"? That would explain why I don't know anything about her.

Somewhere on the Internet, I came across a video of Taylor Momsen talking about Style and I was so troubled by the freeze-frame of her face that I clicked on it. Taylor Momsen said she feels much better since she fired her stylist. I think Taylor Momsen has made a mistake.


Look, it's a Juggalette! No, wait, it's a victim of domestic violence. No, wait, it's a 14-year-old boy going to his first Misfits show. No, wait.



Taylor, come home. Daddy misses you. Remember when we used to rummage through garbage cans together? We can do that again. Come home, honey.

If you like furniture and art, you're going to love this

ADVISORY: This is a shameless plug for my friend's store.

My friend Stephen lives in the Mission and is vegetarian and edits Hacked IRL. Recently he decided to open a store dedicated to Mid-Century furniture and art, because that's his thing. It's called Dusty Modern and it's on 20th, near South Van Ness. It's like a block away from Shotwell's, if you're like me and relate everything to what bar it's closest to.



See? It's full of furniture and art. And Stephen, too, if you look very carefully at the back.

You should totally go by. Right now, he's open Fri-Sun, 12-6. When I went by, I got 2 beers. I can't guarantee you'll get 2 beers just for showing up, but I can guarantee that if you want to talk about Mid-Century furniture or Clyfford Still or Spoon, Stephen will most likely be happy to oblige you.

Thus ends the shameless plug for my friend's store.

Mad Men #4: Let's cry it out

Brief nudity! Now we’re getting somewhere. It better be January Jones. So we begin on the set of a rollicking new comedy starring all the same people from Mad Men. Seriously, who wrote this episode, Neil Simon? What’s with the one-liners and the “Oh, there’s a fire by Radio City” and whatnot? I mean, it’s great, we’ll take it, but seriously.

Peggy’s getting ready to take a walk on the wild side. She takes an elevator ride with the girl from Life who’s showing off some Very Tasteful Nudes. That’s how they used to do porn. Today we get a midget peeing on a donkey but in 1965 they had to look at sideboob and imagine what the rest looks like. In other news, Peggy is going to be wearing mustard-colored clothes all episode, get used to it.

(Incidentally, one of the members of our extended Mad Men familia had an epiphany or moment of religious ecstasy or something because she pointed at the screen and yelled “HOLY SHIT THAT CHICK WAS IN KICKING AND SCREAMING” and I’m just going to hope she meant the funny, clever 1995 comedy with Chris Eigeman and Olivia d’Abo (who used to be super-hot and I don’t even know what she’s doing these days) and not the Will Ferrell thing from a couple of years ago because I may not be able to talk to her any more if she recognizes people from Will Ferrell movies. ANYWAY, no independent confirmation on the Kicking and Screaming thing so if you want a project today, match up the two cast lists on IMDB and go to town.)

That little shitbag Pete Campbell has to dump his father-in-law’s Clearasil account so they meet up in a bar and FIL tells him Trudy is pregnant. Great, just what the world needs, another Pete Campbell. In fact, Pete II would be about 45 years old today and I think it’s this super-annoying little fuck that works on the 4th floor. That’s what I think.

Joan calls a meeting of the Office Girls! Oh, wait, it’s a focus group led by Faye. Oh, wait, it’s fucking est or Landmark or something. There is a LOT of crying in Focus Group! Peggy is not having it because She Is a Strong Woman. “Your problem is not my problem,” Peggy says. There’s your fucking tagline, Ponds! In the ad, we will see a couple of peeps knocking on this lady’s door and they say they are collecting money for the orphans and she says “Your problem is not my problem” and then smears Ponds on her face and then it goes SCHHHONGGGG and a big bottle of Ponds smacks you in the face. Fuck, I should have gone into advertising.

Ken’s back and he doesn’t like McCann and he also doesn’t like Pete. Join the fucking club, Ken. Oh, now here we have the showdown between Don and his Sexretary. She wants a recommendation letter and he says to write one up and he’ll sign it and she doesn’t like that. Now what the fuck is wrong with that? That sounds like a great fucking deal to me. “This is a fucking stone killer secretary. In between taking dictation and writing up some motherfucking Gregg shorthand, she will also run your office like the control room of a submarine and can basically print money out of her hair. If you don’t hire her, you might as well shoot yourself in the fucking face. Love Don.”

The Power Lesbian is back and now she’s sharking on a secretary! Whoa, Power Lesbian, one at a time! She invites Peggy to some art thing/excuse for smoking the reefer and this party looks like a scene from every bad 60’s movie. Seriously, all they need is a guy with a goatee and a beret hitting his little drum and saying “Cool, man, real cool.” Power Lesbian, who looks like Sarah Silverman, makes some crack about renting your vagina and it’s one of those things you think is funny but it’s really not. Then the cops bust their party and Peggy hides out with some Pot Bro and I don’t remember what else happened.

To wrap up:

- Don gets a new secretary and if they think just because she looks like Dame Edna Don won’t bang her, they’d be surprised.
- Peggy congratulates Pete on his new baby and oh, by the way, remember when I had your baby? Who else are you going to get to have your baby? Huh? Every fucking woman in this office? How many goddam babies do you need?
- I am getting pretty fucking sick of Don and Faye talking instead of having sex.
- Did you get pears? I don't know, I'm 120 fucking years old and I'm in a hallway with Don Draper and fuck it, I can't even remember.