Saturday, October 29, 2005


Seen here in this stock press photo, is at it again. He is adding to the already fine productions he has given us of late, dipping back into the past, and serving up a Knock-out.

Rocky 6, or VI for you romans, will feature a story where Rocky doesn't want to fight, but comes back just to prove he still has it. It won't have Adrienne in it (she died) but it will have the annoying anf fat paulie to, no doubt, spew forth one-liners and try to make the audience forget Stallone is 59.

And I could let that slide. Lord knows I am going to watch the movie, just to see if he can get back in shape, or if he is going to wear a singlet ala Brain Dennehey in Gladiator. But he didn't stop there.

Now, it seems, he is going to make Rambo 4. The plot: he isn't going to go back and fight, but some girl gets kidnapped and he is forced out of retirement. I wish I was making this up.

I called Slyvester to ask him what the hell he was doing:

Me: Hey Rocky, er um, Sly, how's tricks?
Him: Yo, Joshua, congrats on the new webblog
Me: Yeah, it's a good time for JosFro inc. SO, what's this I hear about you making a new Rocky movie?
Him, Oh, that. Well, turns out when you sell your soul to the devil, he means business. I should have never made Rocky 5. But seriously, you know, I just thought people going through what I am could relate to this movie.
Me: you mean to tell me you are experiencing mid-life crisis? You are Rocky, for christsake, Dolf Lundgren couldn;t beat you, and some hormones are getting you down?
Me: Jesus, what happened to you.
Him: No, no. I mean the money. I owe some bad people a lot of money. See, I'm not really Italian. When the mafia found out they wanted a cut. Between that and the hit I took making Cliffhanger I'm broke.

Check the box office next year for Spy Kids: 4D, Stop or my grandkids will shoot,Cop World, and, get carter his depends


Thursday, October 27, 2005


"Came out" the other day. People are making a big deal about this. She is, by far, the highest profile athlete to "admit" she is gay. And that's cool for the gay community, to have someone out there "openly" gay.

Now, for the reason for the quotes. I just don't get why there is a need to come out. To admit. To open up. The thing is, our sex lives are private. Doesn't matter what we do, does it. Our lifestyles, the same. Doesn't matter if we are public figures. If I don't share my relationship with others, am I gay? No. That's silly.

So the only problem was in Sheryl Swoop's head. She though tit was such a big deal she went and got a husband and kids. She really was living a lie. But for what? Honestly, who the hell cares?

In male sports, I imagine, it is harder. So much Machismo that truly does not exist in female sports, or the female community at large. We were taught to hide that, and that's that. Perhaps someday that won't matter, and just like race, people won't care, so long as you produce on the field.


I watched (listened to) the Timberwolves game last night. We looked (sounded) good. I will devote a whole sprawling article to Michael Olowokandi, but he had a great night. The big surprise, though was how well our two point guards (Marco Jaric, and Anthony Carter) did. I believe they had 17 assists between them. A lot of good defense, and an easy win. Eddie Griffin hit three threes, blocked two shots. Rashad McCants can score at will. We have not had our whole front 5 on the court at once yet, KG was out with an ankle tweak, but the starters looked great. Having McCants and EG come off the bench, that helps ease my mind about our depth.

Overall, a B+ effort from a team missing their number one rebounder, scorer, and MVP.

This will prove to be an interesting season, and I think we will find a 4-6 spot in the postseason.


Wednesday, October 26, 2005


not to post on message boards. It is very hard to find one that does not quickly disintegrate into name calling, flaming, and childish back and forth. I do not know why I thought this time would be different.

The problem is people take disagreeing far too seriously. Because I disagree with your idea does not (necessarily) follow that I disagree with YOU. I don't even know you, most of the time, why would I care enough to form an opinion about you? Instead of taking it personally, and gaining nothing from the debate, most people who choose to post on message boards tend to just resort to name calling and poop flinging.

It's a damned sad commentary on people that they cannot accept open minded disagreement, and must think of it as personal affront.

P.S. I won't name the site, as I don't want anything more to do with it. It simply will disappear from this site, and that will be all. Also, lest people think this is juyst sour grapes, it wasn't even me they were doing this to (until I stepped in) and it was very few of the people on the site (though one was an administrator). Just goes to show...



Everyone tells you to sleep on it, before making any rash decisions. Well, I have, for a week, and I am ready to talk about it:

I LOVE MY NEW BED. Sure, that was a hokey set-up to a bad joke, but it doesn't change the fact that our new bed is amazing. We used to sleep on a futon. You read right, a futon. Now we sleep on a Sealy King sized bed.

Backpain=gone. Being kicked and punched in my sleep by my violent fiance=gone. Waking up refreshed=here to stay.

If you are thinking about buying a bed, go King. It is worth the investment.

More sports posts later.


Monday, October 24, 2005


This will be a periodical guide to athletes. Each installment will help them deal with the "pressures" of the game, public life, and money.

CHAPTER 1: Wallowing in Self-Pity Only Makes You a Sad Pig

Most people could learn this lesson, but none more than professional athletes. All we ever hear from them is what they haven't been given, and what they deserve.

I won't point out the obvious numbers about over-inflated salaries to compete in pastimes. No, I will leave that to someone more cynical. More cynical and research minded, that is.

What I will say is simply this: you don;t reinvent your image in today's media. They want a story. You being a good guy is only a story once. You being a bad guy is a story for life. Does that suck? Yes. Does that give you a reason to whine? No. In fact, it's good reason just to stay away from whining and the media.

Example 1: Keyshaun Johnson. He was pissed off about his contract, he whined on the sidelines until he got traded. Everyone thought under Bill Parcels he would flourish. His numbers are good, not great, and the guy still overreacts to every underthrown ball. Two weeks ago he was on the sideline bitching about a fumble he thought was a bad throw. Then, instead of practicing that catch, he went and watched NFL countdown. Michael Irvin said Dallas had three number two receivers. Obviously, Keshaun thought this was a slight. Instead of going out and practicing to become a number one, he assumed he was, and went on the show to go head to head with Irvin. He actually called Irvin a number two. Said he never lead the league in anything (which is wrong, he lead the league in yardage twice). What does that look like? I'll tell you, he looked like a whining child lashing out at his father. Michael Irvin is a hall of famer. He changed the way we look at receivers by going over the middle and crushing people for extra yards. He created a position for Keyshaun, who does the same thing. You don't call him out to make yourself look good. It won't work.

Example 2: Flashback to last year. Terrell Owens wants out. He gets traded to the Eagles, after whining about a trade to the Ravens. He quickly hooks up with Donovan McNabb to become the best tandem of the year. He even repairs some of his image as selfish by going out and playing on one leg. Playing WELL on one leg. Everyone thinks the eagles have the winning formula, and the future is bright. Everyone except T.O. This guy decides he is underpaid (only two receivers make more) and throws a media temper tantrum for the whole of the offseason. He not only doesn't get more money, he ruins everything he worked for the year before.

Example 3: Who can forget Latrell Sprewell. This guy, albeit in jest and taken out of context, actually said "my kids gotta eat, too" I guess he was upset that he was making more than GFs like Shaun Marion. Anyway, he holds out a few days, ruins team chemistry, and gets run out of town. As a free agent, he is STILL unsigned. Not only does he look like a selfish whiner, he now passed up guaranteed money for two years, with a third year option, for blotto! He gets nothing now.

The truth is, none of these guys had a leg to stand on. They decided to take it to the public, and try to gain some leverage on the people they thought were holding them back. It failed, and now they are cautionary tales. What they deserve is not always what they are going to get, sure, but what they get might sometimes be just what they deserve.


Sunday, October 23, 2005


There's something you haven't heard often this year.

Really, though, they looked good for three quarters in this game. Some stupid mistakes, but a good game.

Teh first quarter was scoreless, and Vikings defense really showed up. Ahman Green looked like Ahmad Rashad trying to run out there. We controlled the line of scrimmage most of the contest. I was really impressed with Big Pat Williams. For a 320 pound man-monster, he sure can run. He got into Brett's aging grill enough to disrupt some key plays.

Offense, in the first half, was horrible. I actually texted my buddy to say just one word: Disgusting. Every single time we madea good series of plays, we shot ourselves in the foot. Mewelde Moore screwed up a 74 yard kick return by fumbling the very next play. Our offensive line let Daunte get sacked 5 times, and had five 5 penalties. As a result, the Packers hung a 17-0 half on us, scoring all those points in the 2nd quarter.

We would keep them to that score until late in the fourth. Something snapped, and Daunte's line actually gave him pockets. He used them, dinking and dunking just enough, and RUNNING. I know, I can hardly believe it myself, but there was Pepp, rushing again. Then he would make some nice strikes down field, and start the dink and dunk again. Marcus Robinson put us in the TD column, and Edinger, who was just terrible in Chicago, made 2 nice field goals. Moore redeemed himself by grabbing a short dump pass and scrambling in for the second TD of the game, and all of a sudden we were 20-17.

With less than a minute, Brett Favre got the Pack within field goal range, and Longwell made good, tying it. A very nice return to about the 35 gave the Vikings one last shot, with 24 seconds to march. March they did, with another series of short to mid passes. The last of these was just a heads up play to Robinson, setting up a 56 yard field goal for Paul Edinger: his longest this season was 53, and he had two in his career of 54. BAM! split through the uprights, time runs out, and the vikings win 23-20.

The game ball here could easily go to the O Line. After the half they kept Culpepper from being sacked, controlled the line of scrimmage, and getting pepp off for 228 passing, and going FG, TD, FG, TD, FG through all the drives in teh second half. It could easily go to the defense, as well, who allowed only 45 yards rushing.

And dammit, I want to give it to Daunte Culpepper for taking all teh shit the media has given him about missing Moss (whose raiders are also 2-4). But it really goes to Mewelde Moore. Every single time we needed a play, that guy got us one. He established the run early on, and then came back to Pepp for short catches every time he was in trouble. I even saw him blocking ou there. He went over 100 all purpose yards, and we have only lost once when that happens. He also scored his first NFL touchdown.

Now, I am not saying all the problems are fixed. What I am saying is we took advantage of an ailing team and got some things together. We played three qaurters of very good football, without mistakes. If we can build on that, we will look more like the team we are on paper, and can start winning more games.

Until then, I will keep on watching and keep on posting.


Saturday, October 22, 2005


to blog about:

Officially, we are getting married in Jamaica, July 1st at 2:30 pm. Anyone who wants to pony up the dough (minus those certain people who know who they are) is welcome to come share this day with us.

Speaking of "us", this morning I had one of those "Things are almost perfect in my life right now" moments. I had to get up for a weekend shift, and when I came back in the apartment to get something, Carly was awake. She had not "made herself up", so she looked really good. (That's something most women don't understand, but those of us who have gotten passed the immature stage of our lives like a woman natural) Anyway, she was in her sleeping clothes and had her glasses on, instead of her contacts. Perfect. AND AND she was baking bread. You just cannot make a moment like that. I was perfectly in love.

And on the other side of the spectrum:

I am a pitbull when a friend gets hurt. Physically, emotionally, doesn't matter. Whoever hurt the friend gets the full focus of my attention until I feel they are square with the universe. Even when the friend forgives, I stay in that moment. It's both a sickness and a cure.

But I am finding it hard this time. The idiot who did the hurting is so messed up it almost seems like I am just piling it on. This person is so wrapped up in a false world, so out of touch with reality (by design) and so lost, I am not sure I can do any more damage. Top that off with the friend seemingly forgiving and forgetting with the patience of Jesus Christ, and I am fast running out of gas to be mad.

Maybe I am getting old. Maybe my life is in a better place, so it is hard for me to stay in a worse one. Maybe I just stopped caring. I just don't know.


Thursday, October 20, 2005


that UNICEF does not have a sense of humor. In an attempt to "educate on the ravages of war" the good people over at UNICEF have bombed a smurf village. I am not making this stuff up:

"UNICEF has produced a short Smurfs movie in which the Smurf village is bombed into rubble, leaving behind dead and dying Smurfs in a scene reminiscent of an Hieronymus Bosch painting...

...Tiny Smurfs scatter and run in vain from the whistling bombs, before being felled by blast waves and fiery explosions. The final scene shows a scorched and tattered Baby Smurf sobbing inconsolably, surrounded by prone Smurfs.

Apparently the head of UNICEF is Gargamel. But the policy is a good one. Not only does it provide a stark contrast bewteen happiness ar war, but it lets little children everywhere know that they might be next. If the loveable smurfs can get iced, what's to stop the ole' taliban from coming and killing you and your family? Better not lie, little Johnny, or Al-Queda is going to pop a cap in your ass.

Could UNICEF do something to take American Dad off the air? Seriously, it brings a bad name to the other animated series from which is was spawned.


Tuesday, October 18, 2005


to know why I am smiling?

I had to buy 50 more pounds for my weight bench today.

THAT will make a guy smile.


Monday, October 17, 2005


ruined by the poor play of the now ever-underachieving Minnesota Vikings.

I have been using this space to defend Daunte Culpepper, but today I will not. tHe line looke dsolid, he had good pockets most of the day, and he was throwing poorly, at best. Maybe there is something to the "WE don't have randy Moss" thing. Not that the other 31 teams in the league have that excuse, but perhaps Daunte needs an outlet for the long ball. Of course, we have three other guys who ran faster 40 times, and when Nate Burleson is catching balls he is as good as anyone.

No, the real problem here, I think, is Pepp is hearing footsteps now. You can watch and see he is checking down far too fast, dancing in the pocket too much, and throwing off his plant foot on the run. All signs he has been sacked far too much.

But you know what, I was throwing the ball with my nephew this weekend and I told him what every coach in every sport has ever told a player: in sports, you MUST have a short memory. You win one, get over it, you lose one, get over it. MOre specifically, you get over the bad plays, and the poor blocking, and you play the damned game.

But the weekend was not a wash. I got to play some more tennis, and our games are getting better and faster. I go tto throw and kick a football, and I got to visit frineds and family.

The vikings, after a weekend like that, seems like such a little thing.


Thursday, October 13, 2005


for the aged in our society:

They would all get up to meet at the world's largest Denny's. Everyone over 65 would get a free meal, and anyone under 65 would not be admitted. The menu would be tea, with hot toast and jam. Maybe a few of them would gum down some egg whites, no yolks (have to mind the chloresterol). Since no one under 65 is allowed, the noise level would be down. Damned kids always making a din, anyway.

After that, all the grey panthers would be bussed to North California, to the beach. In the comically old-school garb of the 30's beach combers, they would walk hand in hand as the mid-morning sun played acrossed the gentle waves. Some of them, with the power of speech still available, would remark at how "lovely, just lovely" the morning was. They would marvel at how a young man like me could be so thoughtful.

Guides would take them up the cliffs, to get a better view of the waterline, and perhaps take a nice nap. They would crowd the cliff edge to get the best view. "My eyes aren't what they used to be, you know" would be uttered in unison. Just as the vista became almost too beautiful to take, I would order the guides to


Seriously, they wouldn't be so bad if they would just stay in their homes like the pack of feebs they are, goddammit! But no, they have to drive in front of me all damned morning, trying as hard as they can to make me crash.

The first one wasn't so bad. She just turned on her turn signal and rode the white line for a good mile and a half before turning. Slowing down traffic, causing people to honk, and making sure no one can get around you on either side isn't a crime, it's just annoying.

Then, while I was dropping off my clients (four of them), some oldster in a city bus started honking at me. I mean, he was really giving there horn a good working over. Finally, after my guys were unloaded, I moved from in front of the building. He proceeded to drop off ONE GODDAMNED PERSON. C'mon, that much noise for one person? You couldn't have unloaded your precious passenger behind me? I had to hear the first movement of Beethoven's lost symphony played all over your horn? This guy should not be transporting people around town, clearly his decision making skills have left him.

And on the way back, I almost got into an accident. We were all plodding along in the usual morning traffic: bumper to bumper at 35 miles per hour through town. I was behind a Goliath SUV, with a soccer mom in it (totally a different post), when the oldest man still driving decided he wanted into our lane. No signal, no warning, and he wanted the spot between us. Of course, in the am traffic, you couldn't fit one of Pam Anderson's boobs between our vehicles, but somehow, without being able to see (he was squinting so fiercely I thought he may have been looking through he metal) he was going to get his delta 88 into the spot. So, because he was apparently unaware I was sharing the road, and more unaware of the law stating that two objects cannot share the same point in space, he just saddled right on in. I, of course, had to hit the brakes. HARD. That made the people in line behind me also hit the brakes, causing the driver directly to my rear to veer into the other lane (cutting off a motorist there), whiz passed me, honking and flipping ME off, and ruining my driving experience for the morning.

All this because someone doesn't have the balls to say these people are too old, too dangerous, and too annoying to share roads with us. Either take away their licenses, build a geriatric lane (with padding), or I will have to make the above dream a reality.

Someone please, think of the grandparents. Do the right thing.


Monday, October 10, 2005


have a horse in the race, but still feel compelled to write about the current sports scene, I am going to publish the ramblings of my idiot mind as told to my palmtop during an all too frequent visit with one of my clients to the clinic.

"...When someone is unfaithful to their partner, we call it cheating. What a silly euphemism that is. I sit that the relationship is a game? The objective is to win? Is the cheater getting ahead or gaining some statistical advantage by sleeping with someone else? No. It is much more serious than cheating. It is betrayal. What was formed with mutual trust, admiration, devotion, and honor is destroyed by lust, weakness, shame, and lie. This is not cheating.

This speaks, too, I think, to what has happened in baseball. I have been searching for why in the hell people are so up in arms about steroids. If it were just cheating, fans might forgive. It is more serious. America has built a relationship with baseball. Part vicarious living, part nostalgia, part territory, all real. The fan has made baseball more than just a game. The stakes are much higher. The pure Americana built into the sport has elevated it. People live and die with this stuff. Surely this isn't a game. (can anyone over the age of 20 type 'surely' without saying in their head 'no, and don't call me Shirley') Ask a Cubs fan why they root for a team that seems destined to fail, that is only good at finding new ways to lose, that truly seems to be cursed. All they can tell you is they HAVE to root for the team. Just like breathing. Not rooting for the Cubs would be uncomfortable. Painful. These fans are in love.

So when a player cheats, takes steroids, they aren't just cheating the record books. They aren't just padding stats, enhancing performance, getting and edge, or winning. They are also taking something away from all those fans. Not just 'cheating', they are 'cheating on' the fans. Every average Joe fan who thinks they could go out and play an inning in the bigs, just once, is being told they have a stupid, silly dream, and that athletics is only ONE reason the fans are in the stands, and not on the field. The juicers are creating a rift between professional sports and professional fans. They are betraying the trust of the people who care about them the most. More, perhaps, than they seem to care about themselves. They are making fans victims. They are telling fans they are no longer important.

Steroids in baseball has become bigger than the game. It represents everything wrong with every relationship a fan has ever had go wrong. IT is the ugly side of a beautiful fantasy. It is organized crime, the uncle you cannot stand, and foreign policy all rolled into one.

It is betrayal."



how amazingly fun it is to throw a ball around a park. Luckily, this weekend I got a reminder. Joshua, my nephew Bishop, and I all went to a park outside of a YMCA and threw a football, in the dark. I have the bruise on my chest to prove that it was, in fact, dark out.

The next day we went back to the park and tossed baseball, adding my sister into the mix. It was amazingly fun and refreshing. We ended the day with two sets of tennis. God I need to move out of this town. If I lived in Fargo, this would be an average weekend for me.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the Sushi. We had a plate of about 12 different types of sushi, and an 8 piece roll, for 30 bucks. And it was good sushi. Amazing.

Anyway, it did me good to get out there and be active, and hang out with a good friend without having to be "on" the whole weekend. I think I may have worked a way out to do that just about every weekend, so hopefully more posts like these will follow.


Thursday, October 06, 2005


the Simpsons comes to mind right now. Bart is in the backyard, digging a hole. Homer comes up and asks what he is doing, he replies. "Digging a hole". No reason, just digging a hole.

Man, I need a hole to dig. I am so terribly bored. I have been in the same pattern for too many days. Wake up, take the guys to work. Get back, get the rest of my sleep. Get up, do chores and paperwork around the office. Run errands. Come back, have dinner, watch a spot of TV or a movie from netflix, work out, shower, go to bed. Wow, written out that looks like a pretty good day, actually. But much like Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day, it's the same thing every single day.

The only thing good about my day is cuddling up with Carly and watching Family Guy before bed. I look forward to that. The rest of the day I just look forward to getting through.

I have never had a lot of friends at one time. Maybe a group of a half dozen. I mean, I was friendly with a ton of people, and could hang out with many of them from time to time, but I always kept my friends group small. That is sort of biting me in the ass now. They all moved away, and I don't have the courage to find new ones. Nor do I particularly care to, because it takes a lot of meeting assholes to find a few good friends. I am just all done with assholes. But it does mean my days all look the same, and lack the color brought on by friends' visits and insistent pushing towards doing things you normally wouldn't think of.

This isn't to say I don't still have friends, either. Certainly, the people who have met me in person and read this blog are in that circle. The people who haven't met me and read this blog are cool, too, I am sure (they have good taste in reading, at least). But if I want to see someone from the good ole days, it's at least 2 hours away. Who has the time? I guess I do.

That's the trouble with finding a hole to dig.


Monday, October 03, 2005


if I didn;t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all. So, here is my review of yesterday's Viking's game:

Cris Kluwe is awesome! He leads the league in punting distance and average. yesterday, he put a punt on the half-yard line. The half! Brilliant play by our rookie punter.

That was my review of yesterday's game.


Sunday, October 02, 2005