I was catching up on my blog reading earlier this evening, and came across and entry having something to do with some vid posted on Youtube that supposedly shows Alanis Morisette doing a spoof of that stupid Black-eyed Peas song “My Humps,” and allegedly making fun of herself and Tori Amos, etc. Someone posted in the comments section of this blog, and I quote: “There’s two minutes of my life I’ll never get back.”To which I have to respond here: well then, f-tard … or should I say, [tag]Comic Book Guy[/tag] … why did you devote another minute or so that you will never get back to take the time to register your discontent via the comments section of said blog? What did it accomplish beside wasting your time? No one forced you to view it, and lets face it, the outcome was pretty much a foregone conclusion. Ah yes, I forgot, it made you feel happy and self-satisfied to complain.
People aren’t happy unless they can bitch. That’s my favorite thing to bitch about: people [tag]bitching[/tag]. About things they have the power to change. But choose not to. So they can bitch about it instead. Or bitching about things that cannot possibly change, like the weather.
To all you people that like to [tag]complain[/tag]: Please STOP BITCHING. Do something about the things you can change, and accept what you can’t. Then we can all stop bitching. And what a wonderful world this will be.
Random Change of Direction: Go Rutgers!
[tag]Women’s basketball[/tag] IS more fun to watch. It’s true. More fundamentals, less BS. More defense, and less scoring back and forth every 10 seconds. It’s boring watching teams trade layups and dunks until the last five minutes, then start playing. It’s like the NBA and NHL seasons: play a 1,000-season, elimiante two teams then have playoffs that last until June. Plus women, generally, are more aesthetically pleasing than men. At least if you’re a straight guy, I guess. There are undoubtedly some cuties on both [tag]Rutgers[/tag] and the [tag]Lady Vols[/tag], that’s for sure, regardless of your gender bent. But I digress.
The dichotomy between men’s and women’s basketball is much less pronounced at the college level than it is at the pros. Nevertheless, I found the women’s [tag]NCAA[/tag] tournament more interesting to watch than the men’s, what little I watched of both, the Xavier-OSU game not withstanding (darn, Ohio State lost the title game). But then both championship games turned out to be somewhat ho-hum.
Tangentially Related Change of Direction: Man, that line at the state D-A-B took forever …
The bar fight that erupted during the second half – the fight was unrelated to the game – proved more entertaining than the game (if entertaining can be used as a synonym for annoying). The one time I decide to go down and watch women’s basketball at the local chill (usually) [tag]neighborhood bar[/tag], so I can get a veggie burger and fries and a pint of stoute for dessert, on a Tuesday night at 9 p.m. — and a freaking fight breaks out between wanna-be hard-ass pseudo thugs with chips on their shoulders and drunken obnoxious suburban kiddies with senses of entitlement. I’m getting old; the [tag]drinking age[/tag] should be raised to 40 (I’m 38).
Or else you should be required to be licensed in order to drink. Yeah, that’s it – everyone should have to be pass a test that they have to renew every year. We should have to go to the State Department of Alcholic Beverage – the DAB – and drink once a year. If we prove that we can drink and not turn into an asshole/moron/obnoxious idiot (you know the type – “Just add alcohol and in minutes, bingo! You’ve got an Instant Asshole! Only available through this special liquor store offer! Act now!”), then we get our license. But wait – drinkers have to surrender their license upon entering a bar; no license, no drink. And if you cause any problems for the wait staff (note that it is no longer the royal “we” here), they can legally retain your license and force you to leave the establishment. Thereupon they would mail the license to the DAB, along with an explanation of the infraction, and the problem child would have to go back to the DAB to face a hearing before getting the license back. If the bartender has to call the cops – there were no less than six cops in this place at one point – you automatically lose your drinking license for a year, regardless of whether or not you are arrested or charged or convicted.
I might have continued to bartend and not returned to journalism with a system like that. *sigh* If only I ran the world.