The Round Up
It’s about time I finally write about the giant elephant in the room. You know, the orange one, with hair that resembles an awkwardly groomed troll doll doused with enough hairspray to ignite Washington into flames.
I tried to keep this blog unscathed from discussion of the latest hit reality show “American Politics.” While there is certainly no one chomping at the bit to get their news fix from this site, nor is anyone labeling me as an established member of the media, even lowly aspiring student journalists have a responsibility to remain impartial.
But that goes along with fake news, and like the rest of the American population - I'm tired of hearing that phrase.
I’m a straight-white-male. In truth, I had no stereotypical reason to possess any predetermined bias in the great Trump debate.
He wasn't telling me I can’t marry.
He wasn't restricting me from using a condom [terrible comparison?].
He never needed a token white guy.
So I kept telling myself, "Just wait and see what he does."
I'm seeing what he's done.
And now, queue up the Jordan reaction.
His Sweden comments were not the boiling point for me (that point was reached around the time he dubbed the news media "the enemy of the American people" and “scum”). The Sweden comments were simply the throw my hands up in exasperation point.
I’m not angry or saddened. I haven’t lost hope in America. I’m just really fucking annoyed.
Fake news. Tax returns. Putin. Immigrants. Meatloaf Dinners.
It's clear to me now, this shit isn't going to end. And it makes me want to bury every connection I have with the outside world.
This worst part about Twitter is that it's a new Presidential norm.
It’s hard to uphold a rugged persona when you're on social media as much as a heartbroken thirteen year-old.
Powerful people are supposed to be unfamiliar with social media.
(see: my grandfather, Bill Belichick, Tina Fey, etc.).
Now It's Time For This Week's: Don't Understand Why It's Offensive?
Happy Fourth of July! The best hamburgers are made at Five Guys Burger and Fries. I love whites!
I think I died and woke up in China... this crab rangoon is incredible. I love asians!
This challah bread is out of this world... I love jews!
Few things make me more uncomfortable than witnessing a family that features a first-name father.
“Hey Jim, would you pass me the milk please?”
“Jim, I need you to sign off on my report card.”
I can unequivocally say the lowest point in a man’s life is if or when he becomes the dad who is referred to solely by his first name, and not “dad.”
With few exceptions, when you make the transformation from “Daddy” to “Rick”, you’re taking a hard loss on the box score.
If you refer to Valentine’s Day as Singles Awareness Day - please press the x on this screen, turn your computer off, and proceed to repeatedly hit your forehead with it.
If you enjoy Valentine’s Day, great. I applaud your ability to turn this weekday into a smile.
If you're indifferent to Valentine’s Day then just refer to it as Tuesday, February 14th.
If you insist on disliking Valentine’s Day, then just refer to it as “a consumer holiday,” and complain about work all day like an adult.
But can we please, for the love of god agree all agree on one thing? Can we put this Single’s Awareness Day flame out before it becomes a thing?
You’re not being cheeky - you're just being obnoxious. Stop snapchatting yourself eating nachos with your friends, holding glasses of wine and labeling it. Just eat the fucking nachos, and take a day off from our news feeds.
If you're calling it Single’s Awareness Day you should probably starting calling it Nobody Will Put Up With My Shit Day instead.
I went to the college bookstore after putting off buying my textbooks for as long as I possibly could. Today is judgement day, and I without a doubt need the textbook for my classes today. I scan the shelves until I come across what I need.
Media Copywriting - 8th Edition
Writing For Public Relations - 4th Edition
It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I can’t deny the inevitable. I grab the textbooks and bring them to the woman behind the front desk. I then proceed to ask for the renting option for both.
“Sorry this one is for buying only.”
She points to the $188 dollar book.
I say I’m not surprised. We share an awkward laugh.
If there is one thing I’ve learned during my time at school it’s that you gotta pick your battles wisely. This is a rational purchase and needed to complete these classes so I swallow another pill. But, I should go to the student billing office to go sign up for a book voucher option first because, well, what the hell? what's another loan anyways?
I take a stroll to student billing, complete the form and am told if I don’t receive a phone call in the next 30 minutes that I’m all set for the book voucher.
Twelve minutes later I receive a phone call.
“Your book voucher application has been denied due to several financial holds on your account.”
It was during those 20-25 minutes that I learned more about my future ahead then the past four semesters combined could ever teach me.
How The Middle-Class Gets Screwed - 1st Edition
Film Studies: College degree or Certification to be an Asshole?
Last semester I learned that I unintentionally acquired a minor in film studies. Due to my acute attraction to movies, I ended up filling the bulk of my elective options with film classes, resulting in an academic minor. And while there are many factors in the discussion of “what exactly defines an asshole”, cinema is pretty high on that list (Cinema falls somewhere between “the probability that you will wear a beanie in the dead of summer”, and “your familiarity with the Kid Rock discography”, to be exact).
Nobody likes that guy who interjects in friendly discussion of Fast and Furious 6 and talks about indie films...
- or that friend who after connecting your Facebook to Rotten Tomatoes, you discover secretly writes 500 word reviews for box office hits for seemingly no reason other than for his/her's own pleasure.
Realistically a minor in film studies means virtually nothing whatsoever other than the fact that those who possess one can say "You wouldn't get it, you didn't study film in college."
Last week, Marcus Smart was punched a hole in a wall following a 123-108 loss to the Wizards.
Last night, Marcus Smart made the play of the night by winning a jump-ball with 14 seconds left while the Celtics held a mere 2-point lead.
With the Boston Celtics' 109-104 win over Toronto last night, the Celtics have continued to close the gap between the Cavaliers and the rest of the Eastern Conference.
While Isaiah Thomas has continued his trend of 4th quarter stardom, putting up a 15+ point 4th quarter for the 10th time this season (twice as many as any other player); Marcus Smart has maintained unsung prominence.
Smart may not show up on the box score, but he shows up on the film where it counts.
With Smart's versatility he is an invaluable asset, and no one in Boston should regret the Celtics taking him 6th overall in 2014.
When I was seven years old the concept of Severus Snape actually being a good guy blew my mind.
Twenty-one year old me realizing metal bands like Dying Fetus, and Anal C*nt have also been the good guys, blows my mind too.
Every two weeks or so, I cycle through my gym playlists. Sometimes I’ll revisit old ones, occasionally they’ll be entirely new; often, I’ll just pick my songs as I go.
Cage The Elephant.
With the exception of face-painted killer clowns rapping about stabbing mailmen and mutilating household cats, my musical preference remains relatively wide-open.
However, while in the midst of one these routine shifts in music, I ended up venturing down the uncharted path of heavy distortion and headbanging. I took a left turn at Mötley Crüe, headed down Slipknot, and then banged a uey (insert Boston accent) at Cattle Decapitation. I dipped my feet into heavy metal and while I admit it was a little too cold for comfort, I gave it a try.
But that’s when it dawned on me.
These long haired, wiry fellas have been the heroes all along.
I’m far from a metalhead, but I also think for that purpose - it only proves my point more. While you may hear blood-curdling, self-loathing lyrics - that can’t be as bad as what exists at the Grammy’s, right? And for all I know metalheads may take me saying that as an insult. Nonetheless, The general public pays attention to two things: image and sound..
Nicki Minaj half-naked, shaking her ass over a fat beat and rapping about the sex appeal of coke dealers < Slipknot’s indistinguishable screams under guitar shreds.
I’m not saying modern hip-hop or heavy metal is any better than the other - to each their own. What I am saying is that when little Jimmy's musical collection is filled with booty this, bitch that, and ‘Molly’, you should have been a little more grateful during his Avenged Sevenfold phase.
The Cleveland Browns will not have a top 15 pick in the 2018 NFL draft.
Yes, you read that right.
On April 27th, Roger Goodell will stand at the foreground of Philadelphia. Atop the grand stage of the 2017 NFL draft, behind the podium, and beneath the jeering sounds of NFL fans - we will hear the most important four syllables that Cleveland will speak of since Arthur Modell. Twenty-seven years after being gutted of its chance at a super bowl; there is a new hope.
And while 2016 featured a Cavaliers championship and a world series appearance, I think I can speak on behalf of Cleveland when I say “Cleveland remembers”.
This April, the Cleveland Browns will select Deshaun Watson first overall (That is unless chief analytics expert Paul DePodesta deems his 32 career interceptions an analytic liability). Etch it in stone, Watson is the best chance the Browns have at escaping mediocrity.
Since 1999, the Browns have had 42 starting quarterback changes. From names like Ty Detmer and Spergon Wynn to Tim Couch and Jeff Garcia. From Trent Dilfer’s bald head to RG3’s tightly rolled (or braided?) cornrows. They have lacked an on-the-field identity. Needless to say, history suggests they should not pick a quarterback first overall. Time and time again we see young, optimistic men stand behind center; and time and again we see their heads displayed on spikes. Cleveland is the NFL’s breathing reminder “don’t put all your eggs in a young quarterback’s basket”. However, Cleveland needs to forget history. Cleveland needs to forego the analytics and science. Cleveland needs to draft Deshaun Watson.
There has been a revolving door amongst management, coaches and players. Jerseys have changed, Stadiums have been switched, and the logo has been “altered”. Since the team's inception in 1946, there has yet remained one undisputed consistency - The Dawg Pound. And these fans have been chewing on second-hand bones and Walmart-brand biscuits for too long.
Deshaun Watson’s freshman year he outperformed senior quarterback Cole Stoudt. In his first career start he threw a Clemson record six touchdown passes in a 50-30 victory against North Carolina. That season Watson battled a broken bone in his throwing hand, and then played against rivaled South Carolina with a torn ACL. His Sophomore season he led his team to the national championship game against big-bad Alabama, and fell just short of victory. This past Monday in a rematch titled “Alabama v. Clemson II”, after a last-second touchdown pass to Hunter Renfrow, Watson hoisted the championship trophy. This kid is special - Cleveland needs him.
I’m not denying that the Browns need far more than just a quarterback. I’m not arguing that in fact what the Cleveland Browns really need extends beyond the field and into the luxury suites of FirstEnergy Stadium. Reality is, footballs and cleats will not rescue this team; but briefcases and overpriced ties will.
Deshaun Watson is by no means the answer to their problems. Deshaun Watson is simply a tangible prayer. A hope.
And as we’ve recently learned...
Smartphones are great.
Unless you’re living in a log cabin in North Dakota with a tinfoil helmet on your head and screaming about the Vogons from planet Vogsphere; You have no excuse whatsoever to complain about the iPhone. In truth, if you complain about iPhones - you're four score and seven douches away from being on the Mahatma’s disapproval list. While you're turning your chair to Joe from HR and bitching about the iPhone 7’s bluetooth requirement; some teenager in Liberia has to leave his house made of twigs and rain-jackets to go take a dump in some hole on the beach. So whether your app takes two or four minutes to download, or you consistently type “tje” instead of “the”, you have no choice but to bite your lip, scream into your sweatshirt and then smile like the fortunate American you are.
I'm no exception. At least twice a week I have to battle the urge to smash my phone on the nearest jagged object because "Lets go get lunch" turns into "Leyd g og et kuncj".
However, what I feel we do have the ethical right to complain about is our constant worrisome state of our phone's charge. "Chargeaphiliacs" if you will. Kids are bringing phone chargers to parties, adults are buying batteries for their phone's extra battery, and people are sparking conversation by asking "what charge you at?" or "what percent are you on?"
We shouldn't be asking eachother what the iPhone 8 will feature, but when will husbands start saying "sorry honey, I'm below twenty percent" and reach for bottles of Cialis reading... "When you're on low-battery mode, get a quick charge."
1. More people are up to date with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s marriage than they are with the status of American troops in the Middle East.
2. Hey Douche-McGooch... If you like lifting things so much, why not lift some lumber instead and put it down in the shape of a two-bedroom house. Unless you're being paid to come here and wear a beanie, go get a f*cking job.
3. While it is a locker room, you’d think these older gentleman would make more of an effort to cover their dongs before they discuss their grandkids with each other. There’s something about sixty years on this planet that makes you want to show everyone how close your testicles can hang from the floor.
4. The gym would be substantially cooler if instead of metal weights, people lifted barbell-attachable boulders.
5. Contrary to what I had previously thought - My understanding of the U.S political system is just as defective as everyone else’s in this country. After glancing at a headline regarding the electoral college and its final vote on Monday to seal Donald Trump’s spot in the White House, (A process which occurs after every presidential election) I immediately took to Twitter writing “What kind of governmental collusion is this? Is this American?” Needless to say I quickly deleted that tweet after fact-checking myself and realizing the simple answer is “Yes it is.”
6. For the price of the digital recreation of Grand Moff Tarkin in ‘Star Wars: Rogue One’, hundreds of thousands of starving children in Africa could have been saved.
7. After pondering the idea of whether or not they would ever recreate the old Star Wars movies, I realized how idiotic that question is. Would they ever recreate The New Testament?
8. Why am I working out in a Kenneth Cole brand v-neck sweater right now?
In the past three weeks I’ve traveled a little over 900 miles.
I listened to an Uber driver hypothesize about crack-addicted call-girls, talked with an aspiring rapper with a bachelor’s degree in culinary arts, and chatted with a fiancé who was set to enlist in rehab to kick his dependency on smoking weed.
From my own personal experience, It’s hard to find a sample of three people as contradictory as these three. Different races, different motives, different personalities, different political views, etc. However, as polarizing as these three figures may be there is one distinct similarity among them. For better or worse women have sent these three guys' original plans spiraling into abyss.
While I can speculate, I can’t say for sure that I know what that Uber driver’s original plans in life were; but I’m pretty confident it involved neither crack whores nor Uber.
Same with the sous chef who spends his free time rapping. Does his unconventional career path provide for potentially great lyrics and/or an ingenious rapper name? Absolutely. However, I’m not convinced that was his plan from the get-go.
As for the soon-to-be husband, perhaps it was the self-proclaimed “marijuana addiction” or even marriage itself that served him a curveball. Nonetheless, like his peers, I remain skeptical that he had developed this scheme in advance.
I'm not saying that women were the sole factor in which elevated these individuals to their varying heights of "success", but what I am saying is that women were without a doubt the primary factor involved. There a few things on this earth more complicated than the dynamics of the male-female relationship. And realistically, more often than not it gets the best of us. It brings out our demand for meth-sex exchanges, and our dependencies on weed to not have crippling panic attacks.
While I have the furthest thing from a PhD in biology, etch me in as the first to say it… The day VR Porn reaches mainstream markets is the day that human extinction begins.