Failure to Write

Today, I found out that I didn't get into any of the creative writing classes that I had applied for. I was originally bummed, really bummed. Three different teachers had separately decided that my writing wasn't good enough to earn entrance into their classes. And this is not the first time that this has happened to me either, I went 0-3 a year and a half ago as well. In other words, the english department has spoken loud and clear and unanimously said that I suck, my writing is bad and my parents' should have said "no" to me on more occasions as a child.

But after some textual support from my girlfriend, I have come to this conclusion:

FUCK THAT.


My writing does not suck. Raise your hand if you disagree (Do not raise your hand as it will not be counted, this post is on tape delay and the votes were tallied live) Judging by the show of hands, or lack thereof, I don't suck. So fuck them for telling me I suck.

One of my submissions was my Number ten essay, which I thought was pretty fucking good, let's see a show of hands? Tim, only one hand please. Yes, I know you thought it was a gem but only one vote. Yes, I know you are number ten too. Yeah I agree, fuck that professor, he was just jealous that he's not on the list, bitchass. Don't worry, we still are number ten, nothing can ever take that away from us.

In conclusion, the only justification for their denial of my greatness was that they made a mistake. And I accept their apology, but I will never forgive them. Someday, they will all have a copy of my book waiting for them on their desk in their office, with a personal letter from me written on the inside cover. It will read– "Suck it."

David Caruso

Now watch this video-




David Caruso is a God.

Unicorns

Warning If you press this button, you will be assaulted by unicorns:



Keep clicking and they will regenerate themselves and there will be more and more and more and more and more until you can no longer see your computer screen, but keep clicking and they will eventually jump out of your computer and become real live unicorns that you can ride and play with and they can be your only friend.

Pao- Consider this an early birthday present.

My one act play

Saying No to Children

 

Scene: A father stands in his perfect living room with his son (4) and daughter (5) jumping up and down at his waist, reaching for what he has in his hands. He stares straight forward unmoved by his children’s requests.

Characters:

Father- 30-40, he needs to appear upright and moral, clean cut, well dressed even in casual clothes, he is the kind of guy that based on appearance must be trusted and liked, but when I wrote this I was thinking Carey Grant.

It is extremely important that the children are both extremely lovable, they, like the father, must command that “perfect” quality. They must not act out wildly or be brats or anything that could bring on negative feelings from the audience. The problems that arise must be completely of the parent’s own fabrication.

Daughter- adorable little girl who cannot say her “R’s.”

 Son- standard boy.

Mother- well-to-do woman. She completes the perfect family unit.

Lawyer- disheveled, scatter brain type, who seems to be the intrusive, moochy neighbor.

Lighting note: Asides should spotlight the character or characters with the rest of the action frozen with lights dimmed.

Note: I cannot stress how important it is that reality and believability should not be a concern when performing this play. That being said, push the limits of this screwball comedy as far as you please. Good luck.

 

Father

Now, you must promise to not tell your mother. Do you hear me?

Son

Candy/ Candy/ oh please can I have it?

Daughter

Gimme / Candy/ Candy/ Daddy, please.

Father

Promise?

Children

Uh-huh. (Father hands them the “candy”, the little boy eats the two pink tablets right out of the Father’s hand)

Daughter

Oh, no daddy, mommy said not to eat the ones with the A on them. She said it’s medicine, not candy.

Father

Well, mommy’s not a doctor now is she? (pulling the little boy back, and using his shirt to wipe off all of the slobber)

(Aside: But she is damn good at games of chance.)

Daughter

But we haven’t had breakfast. And mommy says no candy for breakfast.

Father

It’s my day to take care of you, so I make the rules. And I say you can eat candy even for breakfast.

Son

Yuck, daddy, this candy is baaaaad. (Father practically shoves the tablets into his daughter’s mouth)

Father

 Well medicine isn’t made to taste good. (Aside: Oh, here we go. Now I’ve done it. One slip and the one-boy-Why?-Parade commences. If only I would’ve gone tails, then it would’ve been my day off.)

Son

But I thought it was candy?

Father

I meant candy. (Aside: Thank god they are still little idiots.)

Son

But why did you say medicine?

Father

I didn’t mean to.

Son

Why?

Father

(Aside: Hold it together, Hold it Together. Only a few more Why’s before the adult Ambien hits and he’ll be out all day.)

Daughter

When’s mommy coming home from work?

Father

She just left.

Daughter

But when?

Father

She’ll be back by the time you wake up from your nap.

Son

When’s nap time? I’m tired.

Father

Soon. (Aside: But not soon enough) (checks watch)

Daughter

But we just woke up. (Son lays down on the floor)

Father

You’re growing children. Sleep helps the body.

Daughter

Well, I’m not tired.

Father

(pulling bottle of Ambien out of his pocket) Would you like some more candy? You have been such a good girl today. You deserve more.

Daughter

No thanks, I like the purple flavored ones better.

Father

Well, I have those too darling. (shaking some tablets out of the bottle and he gives them to the daughter)

Daughter

But this tastes the same kind of yucky as before.

Father

I’ll write a letter to the manufacturer.

Daughter

The wha…(yawning) (son had been playing on the ground with his toys but is now asleep beneath the Father’s feet)

Father

See you are tired. You can’t fool daddy. (Father picks her up, steps over son and lays her on the couch. He then moves some of the kids’ toys around them)

(Aside: I should’ve picked tails. Tails never fails. But four days in a row? I must be the unluckiest bastard in all-the-world. Well, at least the suburbs.)

Shhhhh. Just close your eyes. Yes, that’s it, sleeeeep.

(Daughter falls asleep. He now stands addresseing his sleeping children)

You see children, it’s not that daddy doesn’t love you, it’s that daddy has other things to do and you… well… get in the way. And, I mean, I know I shouldn’t tell you this now, at such young ages, but I have been needing to get this off my chest for a while… so here goes. You’re both adopted. (beat) (Wife steps in from a side door, and watches silently, seems unamused, but not mad or shocked, just kind of taking it in) Okay, not really, but it would make it a hell of a lot easier to get rid of you. (pause)Truth is, I’m not your father. (breath) No, no, I made the mistake of knocking up your mother and now I must suffer the consequences, but damn, you two are a hell of a punishment. Alright, I’ll try this again. And I have heard that a father should never say this to his children, but (beat) I don’t like you guys. Well, at least not yet. Face it, you are not capable of intellectual conversation, your Tee-ball games are boring, I mean, how could it be entertaining, your team is horrible. I know the league insists on not keeping score, but I have kept score and you have lost every, single, goddamn game. I cannot stand to lie you any more, saying “Good game, son,” because you have never had a good game and probably won’t until you learn how to tie your shoes. And you missy, 50 dollars a week for ballet lessons? You can’t even pirouette. I could think of far more productive ways of spending 50 dollars, like boarding school.

Mother

Do you really have to give this speech everyday/

Father

Honey you’re home from work early/ what’s the special occasion?

Mother

/My office is the guest bedroom/ coffee, why are the kids asleep?

Father

They were tired. (hiding the Ambien bottle behind his back)

Mother

You didn’t/ You did, again?/ You did.

Father

Didn’t what/ No, no, no we went over this yesterday. I remembered no drug induced comas just like you said/ Alright, I did. But I had to. I can’t keep watching them.

Mother

You lost the toss fair and square.

Father

Don’t you want to spend some quality time with your children?

Mother

No

Father

Well me neither. Look at this brochure for this boarding school in the Himalayas or/ (pulling out a fan full of brochures)

Mother

/Or Maybe we could get a babysitter. (picks up the phone book off the side table)

Father

What would our friends think? Two parents, who work from home, hiring a babysitter?

Mother

You’re unemployed

Father

I prefer in between jobs.

Mother

You haven’t worked since we met.

Father

Not true.

Mother

That was 10 years ago.

Father

What about the play?

Mother

The one about the parents/

Father

Where they don’t want to take care of their kids and they continually argue about whose turn it is.

Mother

How many times did it get rejected?/ a half?/ That was a horrible play. It wasn’t believable. I mean who wouldn’t want to take care of their kids?

Father

7 and a half/ I posted it on my blog and it got mixed reviews, so it’s not a full 8/ Us.

Mother

The point is, people don’t go around saying how much they dislike their children all the time.

Father

Sure they do.  Watch. I don’t like you (points to son) and I happen to not like you either.(a dismissive hand gesture towards the daughter)

Mother

(ignores him) Coffee, that’s what I’m here for, Coffee.

Father

Good luck. Are you going out to get it?

Mother

No. Didn’t you buy some at the store yesterday?

Father

The store?

Mother

Yes, the store. You went there to buy coffee and left the kids with me. Remember?

Father

Vaguely.

Mother

So you didn’t buy any then?/Coffee/ So where did you go?

Father

Buy what?/ Oh, yes. (beat) No, I didn’t./ Don’t worry about those silly little details now darling. I will run out and get some right away. (hurriedly grabs keys and wallet off the table, rushes over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek and nearly sprints towards the door.)

Mother

Oh no you don’t. (Father stops with door half open, gazing towards freedom)

Father

(Aside: Deep Voice Singing- Let My People Go!) What was that dear?

Mother

I’ll go, you stay hear and bond with the (looks around at the two children sleeping), uh, comatose.

Father

Honey, you have had a long, hard day at work (aside- 10:30. Or not). The kids were asking when you’d be home. Better stay.

Mother

These kids? The ones you decided to temporarily dispose of–Those children? The ones that are so drugged that they might sleep ‘till the end of summer vacation?

Father

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Mother

Rock, paper, scissors? Best of three?

Father

Let me think. Okay. Ready.

(They play. Father wins.)

Mother

You got twenty minutes.

Father

Love you. (runs out the door, screaming- freedom)

Mother

(turns towards children, then to audience.)

(Aside- Damn.)

(She then walks over to a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of booze. She shakes some pills out of the ambient bottle, and washes some down with a few long gulps from the flask. Sits down next to her daughter on the couch, then shakes her head and moves to the recliner.)

{End Scene}

 

{New Scene}

Dark outside. Mother still asleep on recliner. Children noticeably absent. House is strewn with toys.

Enter father, trying to sneak in, but when door clicks closed, mother is awakened.

Mother

Where have you been?/ What time is it?/ am or pm?

Father

Getting you the freshest coffee on Earth my dear (holds up Folgers instant mix)/ 11:30/ p.m.

Mother

Where did you get the coffee?

Father

Colombia.

Mother

Are those mickey mouse ears on your head? Did you go to Disneyland again?

Father

You know I love to see children happy.

Mother

You have two children right here.

Father

Not these ones. They are such ungrateful little bastards. Other kids do cute things like smile and giggle and hold their daddy’s hand. Our kids! Oh, God, Our Kids? Our kids… just…they just…/

Mother

Whine and shit/ and hit and moan and cry

Father

and piss and kick/ and…(looking around) where are the little idiots?

Mother

I was asleep. (They begin searching halfheartedly, under couch cushions, under the coffee table, whatever a kid could not hide under. They call out for their children under their breath.)

Father

Nope, not here.

Mother

I hate to say it, but I was wrong.

Father

About what?

Mother

Your nightly bedtime stories about runaway children. They finally worked.

Father

Yeah, but they didn’t take the prepackaged runaway kits I prepared for them.

Mother

You can lead a horse to water/

Father

But you can’t get it to jump in and drown itself. (shared laugh)

Mother

Well let’s finish the episode of Full House we started last night, then we’ll go out and look. Give ‘em a little extra time to get away. (They sit at the couch, turn on the T.V. and begin to snuggle.)

Father

That Michelle sure is cute and lovable, unlike our spawn.

Mother

 Isn’t it nice having the house to ourselves?

(Cut to Black for 3 seconds to show elapsed time)

 

Mother
That’s three episodes.

Father

Alright, I guess we’ll go now. They should’ve made it to the highway by now. And hopefully someone will take pity on our poor souls and drive them hundreds of miles away. (They Walk out the door.)

(Cut to Black for 3 seconds)

 

Mother

(Walking back in)

Do you think we should call the police? Just so it doesn’t look like we’re negligent.

Father

Not yet, Give ‘em a little more time. The further they get, the harder they are to find.

Mother

I guess your right.

Father

Think about it this way, remember when we eloped when you were only 18? Did your parents ever file a missing persons report?

Mother

No, but/No They haven’t/

Father

Even if they did, they have a horrible job looking for you/ We live an hour away.

Mother

So what you’re saying is/

Father

That everyone hates their children, they just show it in different ways. We don’t hit our kids. We don’t try to kill them. We just don’t like them, that’s all. Everyone just continually perpetuates this lie about the rewards of raising children because it’s what society tells us is right. It’s all propaganda. So think about all the things we can do without them. We could turn their rooms into a mini-gym or a sauna or a legitimite office or a game room, the possibilities are endless.

Mother

Yeah, ok, alright. I’m sorry for ever doubting you/

Son

(wanders down stairs) Daddy, I had a bad dream.

Mother and Father

(Aside- Damn!)

Mother

(turns towards son and back to Father, almost yelling) I thought you checked/

Father

/I guess I had just hoped that they had gotten our hints

Daughter

(wanders down stairs) I had a bad dream too. I always have bad dreams when you don’t read us a bedtime story

Son

I wanna hear the rest about Huck.

Mother

(Aside- father flips coin, mother calls, father loses- father turns toward the audience- Damn!)

Mother

Daddy’s going to read you a story. Now, go up to bed, he’ll be there in a minute. (Children go upstairs)

{End Scene}

 

{New Scene)

(Father and Mother seated at table with a lawyer in a tattered suit. Children playing with toys on the floor under the table.)

Lawyer

Irreconcilable differences? And you want me to represent both of you. (Father and Mother look at each other, smile, turn back towards lawyer and nod yes.) I must tell you that this is highly unusual, especially because you two seem to be getting along just fine. I usually have my clients sleep on this decision.

Father

We did.

Mother

Last night.

Lawyer

So what are these irreconcilable differences?

Father

Well there’s two. (Raises both arms above the table and points down at table, which the children are under.)

Mother

The kids.

Lawyer

Is this some kind of joke? Because kids always think it’s their fault when the parents get divorced.

Father

But really. It’s their fault.

Mother

It is. We wish we were joking.

Father

Do you have kids?

Lawyer

No, I’m not particularly fond of children/

Mother

So you understand?/

Lawyer

I always thought I would be fond of my own kin.

Father

Trust me, you won’t be/ And bore you/ and the lovely relationship that you had with your wife will be destroyed

Mother

They will plague you/ and take up all of your time/ by your own kin

Father

That’s what you have to look forward to.

Lawyer

Have you thought about boarding school?

Father

That’s only a temporary solution. They come home from breaks.

Mother

We think this would be the most permanent thing.

Lawyer

Do you still love each other?

Father

Outside of making these two monsters/ absolutely in love.

Mother

/Yes, I have never loved someone so deeply.

Lawyer

What about adoption?

Father

We are Catholic. We can’t do that. The church looks down on giving your kids away.

Mother

It’s in the commandments.

Lawyer

So who is going to take custody of the children?

Father

So this is what we were thinking./

Mother

/Neither of us.

Lawyer

I don’t think that’s possible, legally speaking.

Father

I see what you’re doing. You drive a hard bargain my friend. You little shark, you. How much do you want?

Lawyer

No, no sir. I’m afraid it can’t be done. Custody must be given to someone.

Mother

But why us?

Father

We didn’t ask for this.

Mother

We just wanted good kids.

Father

And look what we got.

Mother

A raw deal.

Lawyer

You both would have to be declared unfit to parent by the court in order to avoid custody.

Father

Meaning?

Lawyer

Meaning that you would have to something wrong with you. A bad drug habit. Abusing your kids, each other. Reckless behavior. That sort of thing.

Mother

We are bad. Just yesterday, we knocked the kids out with Ambien.

Lawyer

Now ma’am, let’s not be hasty. We all know that you two would never do something like that. That’s just crazy talk.

Father

We did. She’ not lying.

Lawyer

I have a hard time believing someone who is stuck between a rock and a hard place. But anyways, I don’t have the power to take your kids from you. You’ll need a social worker to come view the living situation.

Mother

Is there an emergency line we can call to get them over here?

Father

Like now?

Lawyer

I’m afraid not. It usually takes a few days. Then court.

Mother

So like a month?

Lawyer

It depends how bad the situation is. And I can tell you that it doesn’t look good for your cause.

Father

Doesn’t anyone care what we want.

Mother

Why is it always about the kids? It’s their fault anyways.

Father

So we’re stuck with them?

Lawyer

Unless something drastic happens, you seem like fine parents. I’ll be off now (picking up his briefcase and finishing the coffee that he has refilled four times during the short conversation, along with taking another cookie for the road, after having 4-6 on stage), I won’t waste anymore of your time. Good day. (lets himself out the front door.)

Mother

Damn!

Father

Damn!

Children

(Aside-Damn!)

Draft- Zack Follett

My editor over at the Daily Cal captured Zack Follett in an article that he pumped out faster than most of you can update your facebook status. He did it so well in fact, it seems that Follett himself were the voice. READ THIS.

Violently Yours,

If Cameron Jordan really wrote this letter, then he's a badass. If he didn't then he is still a monster. 

Regardless, this Ted Miller/Cameron Jordan piece is worth your time, cough Tammy Mao.

Snuff

Just finished Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk. The book was filthy. It was my fourth Chuck book and if I had to rank them, I couldn't. His style is short and perverse. He has no excess words. He just kills it. Everything about Chuck's writing is what I want to sound like. The character depth is always insanely original– their jobs, their back stories, they are incredible in themselves. 

I better stop loving him and just rank his stuff.

1. Choke, the movie is bad, the book is superb.
2. Lullaby, a story about a poem that kills people from reciting it or thinking it. 
3. Fight Club, I couldn't tell you whether the book or the movie is better.
4. Snuff, his ability to write from four different first person perspectives is a work of art in itself and the fact that it works is even more unbelievable. 

Beast Mode

San Jose State's Jarron Gilbert is a beast. Yeah, the clip is old, but with the draft on Saturday, this video is early round pertinent.

Not to be outdone, Cody Ransom pulls a 60 inch leap (Again, old but still impressive as hell). Guess what team he plays for? The New York Yankees. It's amazing what money can buy.

A Game

Let's play "Spot the differences" or in this case "Find the fatal flaw."

Now here's the details. These are two interviews that Ted Miller did with Cal's Jeff Tedford and USC's Pete Carroll.

I would like you to pay special attention to the dealings with their respective quarterback situations, then I want you to remember that USC has finished in the top 4 for the last 7 years. 

The quarterback situation has been an issue seemingly every year that I have been at Cal, ayoob/levy/longshore, levy/longshore, longshore/riley, riley/ mansion/ that other guy. It is just an easy way for Tedford to eschew blame off of himself and onto the quarterbacks. If we do bad, it's because no guy stepped up and wanted the quarterback position. 

Whereas if anything goes wrong over at USC at QB then it is handled professionally so as not to make it a big deal, like John David Booty/ Sanchez or now with Corp/Barkley.

My question is how Tedford can't understand that he is coaching his team like High school basketball, one mistake and you're out. How is a player supposed to function/make decisions/throw the tough pass when he is constantly worried about getting pulled? He has no confidence because not even his coach vocally believes in him. 

People dream about playing football for Carroll. He is a winner and a cheerleader for his players (with the exception of when they decide to go pro, but hey, he still has two of the best qbs in the country). 

Well, don't let me sway your vote in this game. So what are the differences?

NO.10

I am applying for a creative nonfiction class and this is due tomorrow, so if you see anything wrong or something  should add, tell me asap. Other than that, enjoy.

I don’t know all of the nine names that are ahead of me on the list.

            Jesus is first, not for any particular religious reason, he just is.

            Bear Grylls is seventh. There is no denying him seven. Anyone who can kill a woodpecker in the dark with a stick from 20 feet away is in the top ten.

            I’m tenth, which isn’t bad considering that this list ranks the most important/ influential people who have ever lived.

To be honest, I am tied for tenth with Tim Gracza– Google him and nothing comes up. “Why is that?” you may ask, which is a legitimate question assuming that anyone as high as ten on this list would at least have their own Wikipedia page. Now remember what your mother always told you about what happens when you go around assuming things. “Assuming makes an ass out of you and…” the quote would usually finish with “me,” but in this case “me” happens to be Number Ten, and an ass could never be made out of this “me.”

            There isn’t movement on the list, well, not in any of the numbers that can be displayed on a calculator screen. I’m stuck at 10 and it’s something I have come to accept. It’s God’s will. Ten is a good number, not too high but still in the category that my name comes up in conversations, like “ Man, that’s a tough one. The ten most important slash influential people who have ever lived? Well, you gotta have Jesus and Gandhi (Oh, yeah, he’s five) then … and don’t forget Joe Cannon.” Followed by a series of head nods, verbal affirmations and or thumbs up.

            Another possible question, which has arisen several times after it comes up that I am tenth, is “How did you find out what number you were?” It was 2005. The Discovery Channel had just aired their “100 Greatest Americans of All Time Show” as voted by scholars, historians and idiots alike. The results derived from no particular rubric other than old-fashioned touch-tone voting, put then recently deceased Ronald Reagan as No. 1. Something was wrong in the world. Bedtime for Bonzo over George Washington? Jelly Belly’s over The Emancipation Proclamation? Reaganomics (Read: Rich get richer, poor get poorer) over The New Deal? Was there a rubric for this ranking? Was the polling sample Reagan’s immediate family?

This was an injustice.

            If Reagan could be “The Greatest American” in a meaningless poll that has no grounding in evidence, history or reality, and Jerry Bruckheimer is still allowed to produce movies, then I too could abandon my social responsibility and decency.

Thus the night after the show, “The List of the Most Important/Influential People Who Have Ever Lived” was constructed in my spa. Tim and myself (the high schoolers, who would soon to be tied at No. 10) were discussing the necessary and sufficient circumstances that one would need to have the power to name someone “The Greatest American” and have people buy into it.

 ESPN.com’s Page 2 columnist Jeff MacGregor writes, “Americans love a clear result, even if it's meaningless, and thus are suckers for top-10 lists and rankings and charticles of any kind.” Even a result as historically inaccurate as Reagan’s passes because people naturally want things to be sorted out for them.

So after a careful investigation within the confines of the hot tub, we were able to draw out the stipulations that lead to the The Discovery Channel’s results. (Note: These stipulations, if followed correctly, can yield the results you want in any type of ranking system)

            We decided that the instant believability of a poll comes down to one aspect–

1.     CREDIBILITY

a. The Source- You may have scoffed at the quote from MacGregor arguing that the source– a sportswriter– has no authority to account for the entirety of America in one sweeping generalization. But if we substituted his title of “ESPN.com’s Page 2 columnist” to “The American Insititute of Pollology and Rankings’ lead analyst,” MacGregor becomes instantly credible. “People are gullible,” The TAIP&R said in a statement that may or may not exist.

Therefore, The Discovery Channel’s poll works because the frame of their whole cable channel is education and knowledge. The Discovery Channel separates itself from “biased” television, like CNN or Fox, under the guise of their programming, claiming that it is a tool to promote knowledge and objective “discovery.” People quote the TDC all the time as if it were The Bible, like this conversation for example, which we have all heard before:

Guy 1- “Hey man, did you know that Manta Rays never sleep?”

Guy 2- “They have to sleep sometime.”

Guy 1- “No, they don’t. I saw it on The Discovery Channel.”

Guy 2- “Damn, that’s crazy. Well, you learn something new every day.”

            Regardless of whether Manta Rays really do sleep or not, Guy 2 now believes it because it was on The Discovery Channel. If Guy 1 was just basing his claim off of his own personal belief, then Guy 2 would have told Guy 1 that Guy 1’s drug intake was starting to affect his daily life.

            We needed a name to sponsor our ranking. No, “The Jacuzzi Dudes” wouldn’t work. Yeah, adding “Insitute” to the end helped, but it still wasn’t respectable. When people saw our “Organization’s” name, their instantaneous reaction needed to be, “Damn, I have never heard of The (Insert our all encompassing and credible name here), but they must know what they’re talking about. I mean, I would trust anything with a name like that.”

            The List of the Most Important/Influential People Who Have Ever Lived is brought to you by The International Center for Historical Accuracy and Personomics working in conjunction with The Global Initiative for the Objective Pursuit of Knowledge. When I originally claimed that I was ranked tenth on this list, you undoubtedly stopped reading and said aloud, “Wow, this guy is an asshole,” which is true, but now that you know that I am not making this stuff up (The ICHAP and The TGIOPK are making this up), I think you owe me an apology.

b. The Results- In certain extreme cases, the results need to be as credible as the source. However, when we take a good look at The Discovery Channel’s poll, we realize that it cannot be just the source that is able to sell the choice of Reagan at No. 1, it must be the construction of the results as well. By splashing the top five with names like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and Benjamin Franklin, the poll appears to have engaged certain aspects of each character in order to carefully place them in order of who is the “The Greatest American.”

It is obvious that TDC had some sort of political agenda in placing Reagan at one, but even that atrocity is overshadowed by the abortion of a choice to put George W. Bush (Yes, that guy who just finished ruining America) at 6. Yet TDC hides the absurdity of these placements by mixing them in with actual legitimate selections like Oprah, Walt Disney and FDR. TDC is operating on the notion that the general public will not discount the validity of the results based on a few more than questionable picks. And it’s true. Two bad apples can’t ruin it for everyone and The ICHAP’s poll operates on this principle as well.

Some people may question the ICHAP’s placement of Tim Gracza and myself in a tie for number 10. Let us excuse the issue of the tie for now and focus on the selection of two people, who have yet to do anything constructive with their lives, so high on a list that encompasses everyone that has ever lived and will live. The believability aspect of the poll, as TDC’s “The Greatest American” has shown, can be easily reconciled by putting people who actually belong there all around the suspect choices. The names of Tim Gracza and Joe Cannon seem to blend right into Martin Luther King Jr., Muhammad Ali, and Gandhi. If our names were surrounded by the likes of Bernie Madoff, Howard Stern and the creators of “Friends,” then the list would fail, it’s that simple.

The list would also not pass go if the ICHAP had pushed its’ agenda too far, which was almost a fatal flaw in TDC’s poll. How could the ICHAP rationalize putting me all the way up at Number 1? They couldn’t, a has-yet-to-be over a proven talent like Jesus? Their bias would have shown through and their plan foiled. But a ten spot is just right. It is not inflating numbers. It stands as prediction of greatness to come, greatness that will come according to ICHAP.

 

            Remember, credibility is the key to success of your poll.

 

            So now that you know my ranking as the tenth most important/influential person who has ever lived is legitimate, you really should apologize.

Cash Flow

Only people with too much money will tell you that it can't buy happiness. And only people with too little would believe that it could.

Jeff Macgregor is an incredible wordsmith. And this column is a gem. Sports and money. It's all about that cash flow. 

Rock of Love Bus

Alyse and I are watching the reunion show right now. And everything is "Smokin Hot," that is, everything except Bret Michaels himself.

A Story from Lil Pao Wow

I will be uploading a personal essay that I have spent the weekend writing as an application for a class (Probably tomorrow). It'll be worth the wait, I promise.

So Pao couldn't wait and decided that in the meantime he would tell a story that I told in a paragraph in my top ten drunk moments post, but this time it's from him.

Let this be a lesson to Krause– this is how you tell a story.

Why I'm no Longer Friends with Vodka

About 3 years ago my cousin, Ryan, threw a house warming party for his new apartment. The party mostly consisted of his co-workers (read: dudes).

I was probably about 3 drinks in and I went to make myself another drink. I poured a shot of vodka in a cup and made a screwdriver. One of Ryan's co-workers comes over to pour a drink and decides that my drink is entirely too weak. He also makes me a screwdriver but with a shot of OJ and the rest vodka.

Me: No, I'm too fucked up to drink that.

Him: Just drink this first and then you can drink your drink.

One of my weaknesses in the realm of drinking is being challenged to such a feat. If you bet me I can't drink something...I'll drink it. If you challenge me to some sort of drinking competition...I'll accept it. I may not be the best at it but I'll sure as hell get fucked up trying.

I proceed to chug the drink he made (whoa...I was just about to type "chug his screwdriver"...that could have ended poorly) and then continue on to my drink.

In hindsight, there were only 2 motives for him to concoct such a drink.
1. He was trying to bro-rape me.
2. He was trying to get me fucked up enough to entertain the party.

*Fast forward about 3 minutes*

I'm fucked up and entertaining the party. I was eating chips...check that...people were putting trails of chips on the floor and I was eating them.

After a while it really hits me and I'm beyond fucked up...I'm in "where's the nearest trash can mode". However instead of playing "where's the nearest trash can" I decide to play "fuck this I'm puking all over the carpet in Ryan's new apartment".

My brother takes me and quarantines me in the bathroom. He's on the phone with an on-call nurse trying to figure out the symptoms of alcohol poisoning while I'm stripped down to my boxers in the shower with water running on me.

After talking to the nurse for a bit my brother says "Andrew, on a scale of one to ten, how do you feel?"

Me: "Two...no...three"

My bro: "Andrew, two or three"

Me: "Two point three"

A gift

from me to you, like Tom and Emilio gave their gift to Carson.

NBA MVP

If I had half or even a quarter of Bill Simmons' ability as a writer, I would be a God. End of story. 

His article on his pick for the NBA's 2009 MVP is brilliant.

Unexpected Readership

On Saturday, when the Cal softball team beat down Stanford, then let them back in, then decided to win the game in an overly dramatic walk off homer, (see recap link in previous post), Pao, Shige and I had the opportunity to sit next to Nikki Schrey's parents. Nikki, for those of you who follow this, is the Cal athlete, who played softball and soccer and I have wrote many posts and a semi-decent feature on her. 

I almost fainted when I found out that Mrs. Schrey (Nikki's mother) reads this blog. She seemed to have found it mildly entertaining, which is a good thing, because I have written some pretty inappropriate things on this thing.  I was worried that I had offended her beyond repair, but much to my luck, she wasn't or at least did a great job of faking it. Either way it was cool.

So hello Mrs. Schrey.

It was nice to sit next to some parents, who actually know the game of softball because Pao and I spend usually 80% of the game, making "Wouldn't it be cool if..." or "Why do they do that thing with the..." types of comments. So thanks.

The LSAT

I have officially withdrawn myself from the self-study program that I was offering myself for the june LSAT. There just isn't enough time in the day to study for it on top of all the other work I have to do for school. 

Anyways, big Daily Cal week for me. First column ever and it had my picture, which is weird because after 80 something articles, it's a trip to see your picture in the paper. I also wrote a recap that I actually felt really good about. 

Anyway 6 or something articles this week, a paper, a play and who knows what else. Oh yeah, I know what else, I need to turn in all my paperwork for this summer when I go to Espana. 

These are some videos that Pao turned me onto. 

Note: If you do something like this to me 

OR this 

I will ruin your life. You have been warned.

My bad

Asher Roth did go to college, but he didn't finish. check his wiki. oops.

Bret Michaels

is 0 for 3. Epic Fail. 

Needs

Kevin Hale has needs. I have neglected those needs. And for this I am truly sorry. 

But things are looking up for Kevin today, because his needs are being taken care of right now. 

Note: This is only to satisfy Hale's needs. If you are not him, then this is not for you. 

If you are Hale, then this is for your eyes only.

If you want your needs taken care of in this manner, then feel free to ask. I'm a very accommodating person, let me know.

I love college

Even though Asher Roth apparently didn't go to college, he still loves it. 

Kudos to loving something that you have no part in. Not only that, being able to get every douchebag in college to think that your song embodies their personal college experience. 

In other news, Krause loves threesomes. I love playing in the NBA. And Moisa loves the dodgers (although he has more right to being on the dodgers' roster than asher roth has to being enrolled in college).

 

Watch Honest College Ad on CollegeHumor

Follow the Leader

When I titled it this, I don't mean Follow me, I mean follow those who follow me. So in this case there is one leader, Alyse, who is followed by Pao. So follow them in following me. 

They are doing this out of charity, so you should too. This is way more rewarding for you than to donate money to some starving kid in Africa, because face it, they are no where near as entertaining as I am. And, more importantly, I am free to support. 

I also want to get a better idea of who is actually reading this because I only know of a few (Alyse, Pao, Shige, CT and Me). And without the understanding of who is reading, then I cannot adequately accommodate  your individual needs as a group (That's right, you show me such a lack of disrespect). 

Anyway, quick story. Tyler, Paolini and I went to Kip's (a bar, where on Tuesday, all well drinks are supposedly two dollars, thus spurring our trip) to celebrate our forfeited IM game. Now, you may stop me here, and say, "Now Joe, I have stuck with you and believed all of your other bull shit but this is too far, celebrating after a forfeit?" And I agree with you that is a valid question and concern. But alas, I forgot to mention a detail. The other team did not show up. 

Tyler and I each order a beer, apparently not two dollars because it's hard alcohol. Oh, and it is not two dollar tuesday, it is 2.50. (Note to self: Write letter to Better Business Bureau, attn: false advertising dept.) Pao orders a double 7 and 7, which, for you rookies, is seagram's seven and seven up. Pao pays with a 20. The bartender gives him back 11. 

Now for you math majors following along at home, $2 or even $2.50 x 2 is not 9. Pao vocalizes this concern. Bartender claims that Seagram's is top shelf. (Advice: If you are ever in a bar where Seagram's 7 is top shelf, leave Mexico immediately) A handle of 7, paolini claims, is 15 bucks at Costco. 

To make a long story short, Pao was pissed an vowed never to go back to Kip's because the bartender took a shit on him and made him drink his drink. 

Also, I witnessed the clean-up guy at Kip's clear dishes. While doing this, he takes a plastic fork off of a used plate, washes it in the sink and throws it back in with the other "clean" forks.

Let's hear it for Kip's.

This is how I be livin'

NBA

With the Nba playoffs coming up, it can no longer be avoided that the season with the playoffs is starting to feel like baseball. Some teams are so far ahead in the standings the only time you see teams like Sac town is on the receiving end of a top-ten highlight on Sportscenter, dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-dun.

The NBA season needs to be shorter, maybe 20-25 games less. I feel like 60 might be the magic number. Just enough time to show how good certain teams and players are and how bad teams like the Clippers and the Kings really are. 

Speaking of bad teams, there should be a tournament of the teams that don't make the playoffs and the top prize is the 1st overall pick in the draft. The lottery is weak anyway, not to mention more fixed than the WWE (that was a Rick Reilly-ism, which I am sorry for). Because face it, the only person who is going to watch the lottery is Blake Griffin and he should return to school if the kings get the pick. Thanks but no thanks.

During the all-star game, fans should get to vote people into the slam dunk competition that they want to see. Nate Robinson vs. Dwight Howard– golf clap. But Kobe vs. Lebron vs. Gerald Wallace vs. (insert comedy pick) I choose Yao Ming. Then I want a dunk competition on an 8 foot rim with a ton of white people like Luke Ridnour vs. steve nash vs. luke walton vs. a retired dunker like an aged Dr. J or Charles Barkley.

 To finish off the all-star festivities, there will be a WNBA bake-off, and fans will be able to buy their favorite cookie or pastry to keep the league afloat. 

Lastly, I would like to tweak the playoffs. The top teams from east and west should be mixed by record and bracketed from there. Teams from the west should not get punished for being better than the teams in the east. 

Although, I am excited for Kobe v. Lebron in the finals. If you don't know by now the NBA is fixed, but with Lebron and Kobe on the tube, how could you flick over to the Duel II.

Fiction

I have to revise some of my short stories for my classes and I was wondering if any of you would be willing to read them. I need to change some things but I don't necessarily know what parts I want to dump and how to tinker with others. The more help the better. I am also offering some form of reward for those who help, probably alcohol. 

And don't think of this as helping, it's more entertainment for you (alright, that's probably a lie). But the writing is better than what I am putting up here. 

So let me know and I'll email it over to you.

Life Insurance

My roommate Carson just got an internship with Northwestern Mutual for the summer. He will be selling life insurance. 

If you or a family member needs life insurance, Carson is your man. That being said, if you do purchase a life insurance policy from him, as a small referral fee, I will put myself  down as your beneficiary– It's a small price to pay, really. 

Then I might try to kill you, just to cash in on your worth. Face it, you might be worth a lot more to me dead than you are right now (although I do value your ability to postpone your life to read my blog, you reading vs. $300,000 is a tough decision). 

Anyway, buy Carson's policies, so that in the sad occurrence that you do move on from this world, we can buy overly priced objects in your memory, like a full time cabana boy.

LSAT

I'm becoming my father, slowly but surely.

Day One of studying is in the books. I'm going to sign up for the june test and I am not taking the class. (Insert your reaction here, i.e. Idiot! What the fuck is he thinking! Who the fuck does he think he is?) Admittedly, this may seem like a bad idea, but I'm going to give it my best shot and see what happens. 

Also if any of you have materials that could help me that would be huge. 

Man Crush

You guys owe me for this one.  Not only can John Mayer shred, he's witty and looks great in a mankini. No wonder why Aniston is always begging for more.

College Decision

Young Andrew Melchor will be making his decision on which major university he will attend this fall, after finishing up his A.A. with honors from Chaffey. 

He has a tough choice, either take a shit ton of money from UC Irvine or UCSD, or be a regular guy at Cal (and be forced to take out student loans). 

Now for people who don't go to Cal, you might say, "Damn, that's a tough decision," but for those of us who do attend Berkeley, you are wondering what is taking him so long to get his ass up here. 

I'm still wondering. Hopefully he will make the right decision because I wouldn't trade my degree from Cal for any amount of money. 

So if you have a way of contacting Mr. Melchor, which you can do at ajmelchor.com because he mysteriously deleted his facebook, do it, often.

In other news, big-ups to Carter for getting into USC and UCLA's med schools. It's good to see someone, who has other things going for them other than school, get into some of the best schools in the nation.

April Fools

Yesterday Pao had the great idea to stage an intervention for jake being an alcoholic. Unfortunately, we didn't do it. 

So instead, we gang-banged him.

April Fools