the only thing better than judging an anna kournikova lookalike contest,

is being permalinked on…

48. instapundit.com

it seems like everyone knows that i have a cell phone now, and not only knows, but knows my number.

my mom called the house this weekend and asked me for the number and i had to call Ashley to find out what it was because i couldnt figure out how to make the phone tell me.

anyhow Anna called me from England.

“why are you writing about the Internet crash– still!?” she asked in a huff.

it wasnt about the Internet, it was about Baseball. i told her.

“but shit man, why arent you writing about me?” she demanded.

anna, you lost in your opening round in Wimbeldon. 6-1, 4-6, 6-4

“yeah, but i almost won.”

ok, never thought about that. are you, you know, happy over there? i asked

“dude man, i feel awesome. i swear i almost beat her in that last set. im feeling better and stronger and i think you will see me win some more games very very soon.

wow, anna, ive never seen you so upbeat.

“i just emailed you a picture that my friend took of me whispering the chick who beat me. i told her that im going to wipe her punkass all over the court next time so watchit.”

anna kournikova!

“yeah. i gotta go. remember that tournament that Martina Navritolova came back out of retirement to play in?”

yeah, the Eastborne, right? the grass court tune-up there in England?

“yeah, this African American girl won and shes my doubles partner and we’re going to turn some heads here in Wimbledon.”

the chick who looks like Tiger Woods? hey, what happen to Hingis?

“who? oh yeah, her, she had surgery last month”

ok, anna, well, keep your spirits up, it’s great to hear you happy again.

“i think it’s just the weather, i love it when it’s warm. kisses, smookums”

and she thought she hung up the phone but she didnt and i could hear her giggling and singing very nice, Very nice things about me.

and that made me super happy.

but most of them weren’t there and dont know and wont know and dont care, but i think thats a big mistake because there were so many lessons to be learned from that era.

one of the lessons that you should know is the Pets.com sock puppet was not a failure. it was classic. it was perfect. it was good. and in no way did it have a negative effect on the failed website.

but advertisers act as if it did. how do i know this? because i havent seen very many good commercials, and im sure it has to do with the dot com crash.

people will talk trash about my former industry, but what they should be doing is paying more attention to Major League Baseball, who spends more money friviously, is run by senior citizens who should know better, and has a product that could be marketed in so many different ways it’s ridiculous.

Baseball claims that it barely makes a profit and makes believe that they’re the victims of something other than their own incompetence.

Our national pasttime has a deal with the government that allows it to not have to follow the rules that most businesses or even sports have to abide by, and for some reason that allows it to even lie about how much money each team earns.

If you want to see something explode in its face, something beautiful that has a real history, a real story to tell, a huge worldwide potential, and an emminent doom poised right over the horizon, look no further than the Grand Old Game and pay attention to such telling signs as a Saturday afternoon game between the first place Los Angeles Dodgers and the 1/2 game out of first place Boston Red Sox that took place a few days ago under ideal conditions in Southern California.

It was 70 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, no basketball, hockey, college sports to compete against, no holidays to flood the freeways, and still only about 35,000 showed up to take advantage of the much ballyhooed Interleague weekend, manufactured to fill the stadiums and inject the game with a heretofore missing spark of life.

Personally I hope baseball crashes like a russian submarine.

I hope half of the teams go bankrupt and be forced to sell their teams to young millionaires. I’m fucking sick of huge corporations like Tribune and Fox and Disney spending millions on stars one year and then the next year saying that it’s too hard to survive in such an enviornment where salaries are out of control.

MLB commisioner Bud Selig is asking for a salary cap for the players. But why should the actual workers be forced with a cap if the owners arent asked to put a limit on their income. I mean, really.

Isn’t this America?

Yes, and because it is, Baseball should have to play by the same rules as every other business. Its sweetheart deal with the US Government should be revoked, I should be able to see Every Fucking Baseball Game when I order the Season Ticket on Directv. They should abolish the bullshit girlie rule of the DH. They should rip down the lights from Wrigley Field. And the American voter should elect the Commisioner of Baseball every four years.

In the meantime, you can do your part by voting for only Minnesota Twins and Montreal Expos for the All Star Game. You only have until Wednesday to stuff the ballot box. But the purpose is to vote for players from the two teams that Selig is trying to kick out of baseball. This year the game will be held in Milwaukee. Because it would be against Baseball’s rules for a commisioner to own a club, when the owners put Selig in office, he signed over the team to his Daughter.

In order to “save” baseball, Selig recently organized a way to “contract” two teams– disolve them into the league. He picked the Twins and the Expos. Those teams are playing very well this year, and even though the good people of Montreal seem to have better things to do than root on Vlad Guererro, there should be baseball in Quebec, mais oui.

Therefore, there would be nothing more sick for Selig than if most of the field was filled with Twins and Expos on the All Star game on his– I mean his daughter’s brand new baseball stadium.

That’s today’s punk rock anarchism, stay tuned tomorrow when we show you how to rig a Presidential Election in Florida.

this time for the Libertarians.

46. In the Court of the Crisco Bandit

47. sassafrass

ah, thanks for asking.

well they are having that Summer Solstice Parade in Santa Barbara, and if i rented a car and drove up there, i have a sneaking suspicion that i could pick up fellow Gaucho Meeeeesh on the way and get her toasted on State Street.

But im terribly shy, so thats definately out of the question.

The Boston Red Sox are in town squaring off against the Dodgers at Chavez Ravine.

But I hate the AL and im still on the fence about this whole interleague thing.

Ashley has a few days off this weekend, and i could rent a car and visit her.

But she seems to be enjoying herself with the 3RD! gentleman caller of the week. Lucky girl.

So I guess I will sit at home and update my Links page and make this blog nicer looking, seeing as it will be gone in about three weeks, unless 58 new links appear magically.

By the way, can you believe what sort of company Jarvis put me in? Gracias Senior!

And I will probably finish Layne’s “Dot Con” which I am enjoying immensely although the character Brendon D. Pierce Jr. disturbs me, slightly, since he is a blabber mouth stool pigeon frat boy who will probably be killed off in a gruesome manner.. one could only hope.

But I have laughed out loud from nearly every page. Which is quite an acheivement since I am a sullen reserved gentleman who rarely even picks up a book that isnt on the NY Times Best Sellers list.

Which Dot Con should definately reside.

I swear to you it’s a great novel. Click the link quickly!

Anyhow, once i finish touching up my dumb page here, i will put out some fires and clean my shower.

ive got a lot of friends and lots of them write me emails and lots of their emails lead me to stuff that i end up writing about in this blog and some of the things that i write actually lead to changes in my life.

today i got lots of emails telling me how damn funny my previous post about the italian/korean soccer controversy was.

let me tell you this, readers, it’s ok to post those things in the handy Comments section.

i know that you dont want to appear “stupid” or “lame” or “etc.” but when people write in my Comments section i get very happy.

I gave you a little blurb the other day about Michelle in Oxnard. Michelle wrote me the other day to ask me my sign. I happily told her that I, too, am a Libra. I’m no expert in the signs, but i agree with what i have read that Libras have very low self-esteem. We can do magical tricks, we can communicate well, we’re excellent lovers, and fun at parties, but everyone has their weaknesses and most Libras are burdened with the above malidy.

But we silently cope.

It’s almost as though Confidence is a bucket, and my bucket has a hole in it.

Ashley is a gorgeous girl, fun, talented, smart, lovable, and i called her an angel yesterday because i met her just as i was breaking up with Chris after 5 years of Bliss and even though Karisa said that she would be my friend and keep me from being lonely, and even though all those NBA cheerleaders were available to date, and even though i had incredibly good luck on blind dates and etc., there was nothing better than having the undying adoration from the former teen princess.

constant loving touches, sweet chatter, declarations of admiration. all the things that others might say were so sticky sweet to cause cavities were completely fine with me.

people dont say that there is something mentally wrong with the bucket that has a hole.

it’s merely a bucket that needs more water than the one that has no hole.

what can you do?

you can pray.

so what is my summer wish?

i want to have a dynamite summer.

i want to sleep beneath the stars with a hot chick, or two.

i want to be able to write to you, somehow, maybe here, maybe not here.

i want to go on that crazy rollercoaster at six flags.

i want a new job.

i wanna be published in a newspaper and make my mom proud.

i want to be confident for three days straight.

and i really want your summer to be great.

maybe you’ll write about it too.

thats something id like for you to do.

arent you glad nothing here is true.

america doesn’t need soccer. we never have. it’s been nothing more than something kids do during recess and immigrants play on sundays. kick the ball into the big net, euros.

hug each other when you score.

italy showed a lot of class when they lost to South Korea the other day thanks to Ahn Jung-hwan. Jung-hwan is a Korean who plays for a professional Italian club when the stupid World Cup isnt sending losers into a false nationalistic frenzy. after Jung-hwan headed in the winning goal to beat Italy this week, his Italian club said that his contract wouldn’t be renewed. he had been fired.

he scored a goal by knocking it in with his skull, pisan. that’s all.

you act as if this tournament means more than the Animalympics.

go back to making our shoes and sending your pretty girls over here so we can hop on top of them.

fix us up some bland pasta.

italy, you might have some pretty art, but you didnt invent pizza, venice is a freak show cess pool, rome hasnt been cool for a thousand years, and the only decent thing you make any more people cant afford: Ferraris.

go back to selling cheap leather and talking about Felini.

ive been to italy plenty of times.

all your men leered at my girlfriend’s american bosom like they’d never seen titties before.

and after looking at your women, i can see you havent seen tittes before.

no wonder you run in the streets with the bulls.

no wonder you throw tomatoes at each other.

no wonder the Pope is polish. Even the dirty fakers in the vatican know that italy has lost it.

but life is beautiful, right?

all you need is a room with a view, si?

you run around with your slicked-back hair and your cappuccinos and your gellato and your jewelry and you pretend like its ok that you once ruled the world – even parts of africa (the easy parts) – and now you dont, but it’s okay, who needs it, you’ve got firenze.

all you have, to borrow from layne, is shame.

fire the korean kid for using his head against you? what do you think he was in the game for? to help you?

you think he flew back home to korea, trained with his korean teammates, put on the korean uniform, stood up during the korean anthem, just so that if the ball came flying at his eyes that he’d miss it for your benefit?

it’s a game. it’s a stupid game. its a game you could teach retards to play within minutes. you could write the rules down on a ravioli.

go back to drinking your wine and feeding Pavarotti.

the only decent Italians are American ones, anyway.

but you know what, i’ll take back what i said about you, cuz i secretly do love you.

of course i do.

and secretly you dont want to fire Ahn Jung-hwan.

what you want to do is hire him back and let him get booed every time his korean foot touches the ball.

your stadiums will be packed every time his team pulls up their shorts and takes the field.

all that passion you people swear that you have so much of will flow like in one of those nice operas that people tell me about.

sell his effigy at the games and burn it during halftime.

with your little cigarettes hanging out of your mouth.

classy like.

but im serious, hire the korean back, or i wont take back what i said and i’ll tell everyone that the Olive Garden is exactly what your food is like over there.

and i don’t agree, but Sonny says you’re acting like the French.

41. Get Your OJ On

42. Rallying Point

the first reason is so i can tell you that my favorite fast food restaurant of all time KFC is giving away a small serving of Popcorn Chicken from noon-2pm, so sorry kids, only those in the PST will be able to take advantage of this terrific treat. Thanks Chris for the tip!

now, i dont read Salon unless Rabbit is writing, but Vodka Pundit has a link to a story that is quite fascinating. Turns out women like semen!

According to the story, women who dont use condoms are happier than women who do use them.

As someone who practices ultra safe sex, this puts me in quite a quandry.

Or it means that the grande finale needs to be… well…

See why i dont read Salon? Although, now we know how Rod got all those chicks. They were after the quart of jizz in his belly.