Alarming news broke out about two weeks ago regarding one Kurt Angle. For those of you unfamiliar or who don’t read the dirt sheets (i.e., those of you with a normal life), Kurt Angle was dating TNA Knocout Rhaka Khan. Apparently, depending on who you believe/what you’ve heard, Kurt had followed her to Starbucks, stolen her phone, circled around the cafe a few times, and then got busted by police. They caught him with a suspeneded license and several vials of human growth hormone (which, again, the police report alleges and Kurt claims he has a prescription for the HGH.)

Wow, what a doozy. Let’s just take a moment to let all that soak in. When I awoke Sunday morning and clicked on the newslink, I was floored. Kurt Angle, who in many fans’ eyes is a world-class athlete and an almost role model for the sport, seems like he’s hit the lowest point in his life almost. And that’s keeping in mind his shady release from the WWE and argument with Vince McMahon.

I’m going to look at this from two different points of view. Keep in mind I love Kurt Angle as a perfoemer and feel he has given more to wrestling than can possily be measured. I also realize he’s a ticking time bomb and a bit of an emotional and competitive person. I also think most news gets filtered through the scandal-hungry media and that we as spectatorsknow nothing close to the truth, not to mention there is no one objective reality. Now:

For Kurt

This emotional interview shows Kurt’s mindframe and where he’s at right now. He seems lke a broken man ravaged by the cruel hands of fate and who just wants to let bygones be bygones and move on with his life. In this country, we have the credo “innocent until proven guilty” and so far no substantial prrof has really been alleged against Kurt.

Who’s to say Rhaka Khan isn’t a gold-digging manipulator? Ive dated my fair share of crazy-ass hoodrats who would try to weasel their way into your home and heart and try to get you to marry after a few months. Her spat with Roxxi a few months back (remember that? and how fucked p was it that they let Roxxi go over that? I swar, TNA makes some retarted decisions sometimes…..but that’s another blog entry) kinda reveals the type of person she kinda is. Even on-screen, one can sense she’s really not all there.

Overall, this could be a smear campaign by a spiteful ex-girlfriend. Kut has repeatedly tried to remove her from his life and she not only insists on being a force in his personal business, but adheres to the “if i can’t have him, no one can” mindframe. Apparently not even Olympic athletes are safe from bitches from hell.

Angle is a world-class wrestler and has proven himself to be a decent human being. Apparently his ex-wife claims he’s a good man and supports him with this. Rhaka Khan’s story has a lot of holes in it and hopefully Kurt beats the rap.

Against Kurt

Kurt is a walking PR disaster. Whether or not he is guilty of these charges, this looks baaaaad for TNA. They should have gotten the title off him as soon as possible and had him recoup at home to get his head straight and wade through this incident.

This obviously reminds fans of his outrageous exit from WWE. Kurt has been known to not only be a hothead in a sport full of colorful personalities, but a bit on the crazy side as well. This, combined with his past DUI incident and drug abuse, shows him as a talented man who is unfortunately on a downward spiral.

I would hate to see him be the next Benoit. I don’t think he’s quite at that level, but if somebody doesn’t step in and help him soon, he will go off in a major and bad way. Kurt claims he has prescriptions for the HGH. Even if this is so, the fact that he ahs to keep taking them to function in the ring is a bad sign. The man is sticking needles in himself just to continue gong. If that’s not the definition of an addict, I dunno what is.

And that brings me to a point I’ve been considering for a while: he’s like a twisted version of the Easter Bunny: he just keeps going and going. His greatest asset, his drive for competition and desire to entertain the fans, may be his Achille’s heel. Are we to blame for constantly cheering every time Angle puts on a ***** match or heads to the top rope to do a moonsault? How soon until one day when he collapses in the middle of the ring?

If he did steal her phone, stalk her, and allegedly abuse her, then shame on him. Talented performer or no, I’ve just had it up to here with celebirties (or anyone, for that matter) beating up on women. Spats with one’s girlfriends are one thing, but you don’t raise a hand to a lady. End of story.

Where do we go from here?

One thing I also wanted to adress in this situtaion are the fans. The hypocritical smarks in the IWC are rife with their usual illogical duality. When news fiorst broke, fans were calling for Angle’s head and said he was close to Osama bin Ladin in terms of suicidal carnage that would result in unforseen casualties.

As time went on, however, an odd thing happened. Many remembered only his workrate and forgot that this involved personal real-life stuff and exonerated Kurt to the point where he rivals Jesus, Ghandi, and MLK in terms of martydom. What’s even more alarming to me is people are spitting all over Rhaka Khan without even knowing her at all as a real person. The sexism displayed on many wrestling forums in reagrds toher and this situation is alarming. Of course, the nerdy snobs will always rush to the defense of their beloved wrestler, forgetting that many classic techinicians have undeniable demons that their prejudiced biases won’t let them acknowledge (Eddie and his coke problem, anyone?)

So what are my basic feelinsg on this? As usual, I disregard both extreme ends of the spectrum and go for the moderate position. I think the truth is somewhere in the middle. What we’re basically seeing here people, beyond all the celebirty and notoriety of the two involved, is the time-old tale of two bitter exs duking it out in public with a war of words.

They had a disagreement and now both sides are going to the old “he said, she said” deal. kurt probably said or did some things in the heat of the moment and Rhaka Khan probably flipped the fuck out.

I also hate to be a Debbie Downer and point the finger at ol’ Broken Neck here, but he made a grave and huge mistake by letting her into his house. Every man knows the number-one rule that you guard your fortress at all costs. To give co-ownership rights to a girl he’s been bangin’ for only a few months was a curious lapse of judgement in an otherwise seemingly sensible man. Even if she did engage in some legal hoppla and wrangling, Kurt should have beens marter and known better.

As aloof and self-concerned as Angle’s on-screen persona is, in interviews that I’ve listened to of him, he seems very down-to-earth and honest. It really helps to relate to him and understand where he’s coming from in all of this. Of course, this could all be a public front that celebirties commonly put on to guide us away from the ugly internal truh of who they are.

And hey, who’s to say he realy isn’t an off-the-wal, unhinged, syringe-abusing woman beater? The difference is, he’s rich so, umlike you or I and other commoner dirtbags, he can afford good legal help to get him off the hook. That’s always a possibility you have to consider.

Isn’ it odd that Kurt initially debuted as a hilariously out-of-touch squeaky-clean do-gooder? The initial idea behind his gimmick was that he was dorky and free from the sins of the regular world. How far that seems to be from the truth. As the years wear on, Kurt has shown chinks in his armor and revelaed himself as a mortal man with problems just like all of us, the facade of the perfect All-American pefect athlete giving way to a vision of a man who’s overly agressive, chases after bitches, and seems to both doubt himself and show vulnerability and extreme emotion, sad and happy, like the rest of the world.

Reagdrless, TNA really needs to give the man some time off. With this on the heels that Jeff Jarrett and his ex-wife are bumping uglies, Kurt has to be an emotional trainwreck right now. Of course, knowing how the brains at Total Nonstop Action work, they’ll keep Kurt on the road, seeing only cash signs in their eyes. When the man is obviously suffering and needs help, they won’t give him the time he needs to recuperate and get his head straight.

Six foot tall African-American women are always dangerous. Always.

In this fledling economy of ours, the sex industry is still thriving. Any area of commerce dealing with vices will stay above ground, and perhaps may even prosper in these dark times of ours. Considering they are sins, they are constants of human behaivor and something we will never give up indulging in. Especially when the threat of monetary collapse looms heavy over our heads, we will plunge evn further into these feel-good safety blankets.

It occurs to me, with the rise of porn, strippers, and prostitution, that not even sex is safe from currency transactions. In a way, that’s almost sad to say. Something hat’s suposed to be a natural and carnal art, an expression of love, a free sense of pleasure, is not up for grabs with whoever has the fattest wallet. Does it ever occur to people who buy time with a call girl or a lap dance that it’s copletely artificial and they’re only after your money?

The overindulgence of capitalism is leaking into every area of our life. As well, it seems porn, along with their shady cousin drugs, are gaining mainstream acceptance. What was once one of our most dirty secrets is now becoming something of an uncomfortable elephant in the room.

Many news reports report on porn viewing habits, “not safe for work” is becoming part of the common vernacular, and adult actresses themselves are breaking out into legitimate films. Jenna Jameson is now a household name and Traci Lords managed to snag a role in Zack and Miri Make a Porno , which was a romantic comedy humorously dealing with the nature of filming a pornographic film. (And, BTW, what of male porn stars? I know most of them look like villain extras from Die Hards? You’d think the dream job of being a buff hunk who bangs hot chicks all day would be more rewarding. Oh well, such is the plight of the modern American male.)

We’re slowly becoming more accpeting of this primitive desire within ourselves. Now, society realizes porn can be a healthy release of our libido and an expression of our own sexual desires. At the same time, it can provide an unrealistic picture of passionate desire and we can become engulfed and addicted to it, like any other lecherous or questionable activity.

But, like everything else in life, once we grow used to it, then we put a price on it. Nothing is safe from cash: neither property, birth, or even death itself. So why not sex? The sex industry brings up the recent conundrum of the avatar syndrome: what’s real and what’s fake? Where do you draw the line? And how do we stop this enroaching trend of everything slowly becoming a simulaion devoid of any authenticity?

It’s occured to me every time I’ve stepped inside a strip club how fake and almost sad it is. These girls are shaking their ass and shedding their clothes for drunk businessmen who could really even care less  for these girls or what their names are. They often lead hard lives (unlike porn stars, curiously enough) and most don’t even use their real name.

At the same time, capitalistic entrepreneurs may want to captalize on this burgeoning market. It may not look good on a resume or at a conference call, but putting stocks in a bukkake company may pay off dividends in the end.

Whoever you are, from the highest royal to the lowliest street urchin, we all engage in bodily functions. Doody, ca-ca, relieving oneself, dropping the kids off at school, or my personal favorite, just takin’ a big ol’ dump. It’s the one thing that crosses cultural barriers, philosophical differences, and linguistic dimensions.

Some may scoff at this assertion and write it off as incredibly vulgar and puerile. Yes, that is the gut reaction (make sure that’s not indigestion there), but look a little deeper within yourself and discover if this is not true, my fellow hominid. Are you not getting up in the middle of this blog entry to go urinate in the bathroom? Make sure, dear female readers (if tehre’s any of you out there), to wipe well.

At times, in the bathroom, while the strain of these biological functions overwhelms me, I consider how this is an representation of the abstract notion of rebirth and regeneration, by means of pain and death. How many of us have had to kick out a friend that was dragging us down, change a bad habit that was ruining us, or otherwise push out that which was negative in order to improve our quality of life? So them, we must poop and pee, because otherwise these useless substances would build up in us and tear our insides apart.

Time spent in the bathroom is often viewed as gross or nasty or unwanted, or even procrastination. Not so, as I say it. When one is in one’s personal quarters, with their pants around their ankles, this can be a remarkable time for growth and self-reflection. Remember, it all depends on how you take advantage of a situation. This is when we are most vulnerable, most at the mercy of our selves, a metaphysical time of isolation, claustrophobia, clarity, and ultimate release.

I often like to read Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathrusta  while pinching off a particularly nasty loaf.

Throughout our daily lives, there are parts of us we’d rather hide. Down here in the Deep South, the humidity particualrly make sit feel like you’re being raped at all times with a giant blanke. This means right when I walk outside to get the mail I break out in a sweat like I’m Kobe Bryant at a high school cheerleader rally. Sweat is another embarassing trait we’d love to cover up, but unfortunately it’s part of who we are. Despite its offensive odor and unagreable texture, it keeps us cool and prevents us from dehydrating in the sun. Pretty nifty, huh?

Snot and mucus are frowned upon in the general public, but if we were not to sneeze and launch a snot rocket, well, then, we wouldn’t breathe, now would we? So, next time, show how proud you are of your mind and how respectful you are over your body watching out for you, and fling a booger at the stranger next to you. I’m sure they’ll secretly understand what a marvelous present you’re trying to give them.

Nudism is a controversial lifestyle. It basically subscribes to the theory that one should not wear clothes or a preference for being naked, based on the argument that clothes are artificial and that nakedness is our natural state.

Many people, especially those in Western culture, are turned off by the idea. I’m not entirely sure why. Many in America seem inherently uncomfortable with the idea of the human body, for whatever reason. We sneak it by in off-color humor or pornography, but otherwise we actually seem frightened with the idea of nakedness.

In a sense, I can actually see the point behind and agree with nudism. If you really hink about it, what are the purpose of clothes? I mean, really, why even buy Afflcition name brand shirts and Abecrombie & Fitch jeans? From a logical standpoint, it truly makes no sense.

We come out of teh womb naked. As children, we often try to shed clothing. Yet, later on in life, we are indoctrinated with the theory of covering up. Only as time goes on may we discover mature topless beaches.

It can be argued clothes are the beginning basis for class subjucation. At the other time, let me play devil’s advocate: clothes are also an excellent way to express ourselves and assert our individuality. They srve certain necessary social functions. As well, there’s teh practical reason of helping us keep warm or hiding certain physcial flaws our body may possess.

I’m hypocritiocal because no matter what I’ll probably never shed my shirt and pants, and even as I write this I’m dressed.

Everyone’s always stoked about the idea of visiting a nudist colony, but you’ll never find Playboy models or hot chicks there. It’s always old, sagging hippies with fat guts and saggy cellulite; basically, the last people in the world you wanna see in the buff. What always strike me as hilarious when I see a special on TV as them, they always have that goofy comb-over and a watch of soem sort. So, let’s leave behind all material goods from your body, but keeping the time is important? I always find that last pat hilarious.

Everybody’s raving about the “new and improved” Smackdown. Go on any message board or dirt rag and hear about the epic feud between CM Punk and Jeff Hardy. Hear them marvel at his masterful straight-edge heel character. Listen to them praise John Morrison’s recent in-ring work. To many smarks in the know, right now Friday Night Smackdown is the premier show in terms of workrate, and miles ahead of that stagnant and boring RAW, which no one watches.

And yet, while meeting up with a friend from my childhood, I recall a conversation I had with his friend. We were all hanging out in his bedroom, and somehow we got on the topic of professional wrestling. Discovering a fellow fan, I naturally engaged him in enthusiastic conversation. He let it be kown he watches RAW every Monday night, that he likes John Cena, and that Kane his favorite wrestler.

“You ever watch Smackdown?” I quired him, smelling a mark in my path. “No. When does that come on?” “Friday nights. They’ve been putting on some good matches.” He seemed nonplussed and the evening carried on. It occured to me at that moment all the hard work by the performers, the bookers, hell even teh camera crew was in vein.

Let’s be honest, who’s gonna even stay home to watch wrestling on Friday nights? I do if I don’t have any plan,s but most weekends I’m out. Recently I found out an interesting statistic: the online fans usually only make up about 10% of the fanbase. The ones who follow the behind-the-scenes happenings, are completely aware it’s fake, and root for MVP or Jack Swagger to be pushed only comprise a small fraction of teh fanbase.

The rest of those in attendance are those who root faithfully for John Cena, cheer on every DX reunion, boo Orton or Jericho without a moment’s notice, buy all the merchandise, and think a match is okay no matter what. No star ratings or “botched” moves here, folks. Just naieve fans appreacting a simple card.

If you go on the Internet and are overwhelemed by the elitist negativity it seems to spawn, you would think the whole world is like that. But once you get off this computer screen, and go trek into the outside world, you realize barely any of the human population is like that. Most people walk about on the streets, unconcerned that Glassjaw is slightly more poppy on their last record than they were on their previous release. They have no idea who Glassjaw are, and it doesn’t bother them one bit.

I’ve spent countless hours scrolling through the music secton on 4chan, and it’s a place where they even consider Gorgoroth “lame commercial metal”. Nothing seems to please these people. They are apparently in search of the most obscure, esoteric, unlistenable collection of noises that could generously be called music.

The average laymen has neither heard of these bands, not do they truly really care. And yet, there is a market for this. If sites like Pitchfork Media are any indication, there is a legion of individuals intelligent enough to think for themselves and break away from the mainstream. Sites like these attract thousands and thousands of viewers, apparently.

The question is, where do people like this exist in real life? As weird as it sounds, I often try to picture what these online hipsters look like and act like in real life. I have a few friends who somewhat fit the mold. The curious mix of brevity, biting sarcasm, and critial insight is one that could not possibly exist in a real human being. Then again, maybe it lays into the whole “we wear a mask when we get on a computer” thing.

The recent backlash against Transformers 2 was more telling of this phenomenon than anything. You had an equal number of people who loved and hated it. There was no middle ground (which is a sad erosion of our times…but I digress). Those raised on Roger Ebert and 411Mania loathed its blatant appeal to commercialistic interest and its shallow popcorn-entertainment. Those for it said it served its purpose, as harmless fun, and that the critics should mellow out and stop judging everything by the same Citizen Kane standards.

What’s ironic is, originally, those who observed and discussed art and music were supposed to represent the voice of the common man. Many singers that the underground reveres—Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, The Beatles—champion and seem to look out for the everyday emotional experiences hat every 9-to-5′er goes through.

In fact, what makes something more “authentic” than another? Fall Out Boy and Death Cab for Cutie both have guitars and drums that just produce sounds. In the end, that’s all a song is. You can try to make it as discordant or subtle as possible, but in the end you will have to have some sort of melody or rhythm, hence that is the definition of music.

The sad fact is, if you ask any random person on the street, they will be more likely to listen to Lil’ Wayne and watch WWE and The Goods than to buy a Mos Def album and even hear of ROH. What sells is the lowest common denominator, sadly enough. In the 90s, the underground somewhat came to us, and thus opened our eyes more to it. Ironically enough, the counterculture became more accessible by this point (more on that later).

That’s not to say all confusing art of television shows are bad, or that its snobby and highbrow fanbase turns me off to it. I’ve never seen Dexter but I love what I feel are lot of underrated shows, like Angel or Nip/Tuck. No one more than me feels that most of the general populace gobbles up whatever the status quo has to say without as much as a second thought, and that it’s depressing than truly great creative works (be they Samoa Joe vs. Homicide from ROH to El Topo) get ignored because most people are stpid and lazy and can’t eb bothered to seek these out or watch them.

At the same time, perhaps we’re getting a little too rejecive for our own good. Not everythng that’s poplar carries the whiff of evil, and some things are unknown because they should stay that way (Bloody Murder anyone?). The indie scene has a sense of conformity to itself, and it seems most Internet boards just simply enforce an unwritten code of absolute agreement/groupthink. It’s a natural human sociology thing. Who’s to say that the only reason more people are aware of and support alternative culure is because the World Wide web hasn’t simply allowed easier access to it? That’s not working for it like our cultural anscestors did; that’s the lazy way to bohemia.

Can we just shut the fuck up and get over hings, basically? I mean, am I the only one who really lieks both T.I. and Broken Social Scene, and appreciates the genius of both, in their own respective ways? The critics are going to like what they like, and the public will like what they like. It’s actually two different styles, so it’s almost impossible to judge one by the other’s standards. In fact, that’s how it’s always really been.

In conclusion, I feel there is a widening chasm between the critics and the comoners. If we don’t do something, it might get worse, via the 24/7 democracy known as the Internet.

Last week, during an otherwise forgetabble segment on ECW involving Shelton Benjamin, Zack Ryder, and Abraham Washington, Shelton Benjamin made a comment that on account of Ryder’s rather questionable fashion sense, he must have “had a few shrooms”.

This was an interesting moment that flew under the radar for me. Keep in mind WWE is rated PG right now and viewed by thousands of kids across the nation. And yet barely anyone reacted when Benjamin cracked a joke about illegal intoxicants.

This signals that there has bee a subtle, yet undeniably noticeable, shift in the American conscience regarding halluicogens and the black market. Regular readers of this blog already know my feelings regarding drugs. However, in this entry, I am not here to expound upon or analyze their traits, but instead to focus on the general public’s relationship with and perceptions about them.

In the late 1960s, America was just coming off the heels of the heavily conventional and button-down 1950s. People were ready to grow their hair out, shed their clothes, and experiment with their lifestyle and expand their conciousness.

LSD, marijuana, and other illicit substances became the go-to spiritual ethogens of the hippies. At first, the general counterculture (and regular folks as well) were mostly unfamiliar with the effects such goods would produce. It was a fresh and interesting relationship: people found they could get way more fucked up on these thigs than alcohol. It was an innocent time, and all was right with the world.

However, the societal landscape got a bit more darker. The civil rights movement was just emerging and the atrocities occuring in Vietnam loomed heavily on the country’s mind. Left-wing fringe advocates plunged more heavily into drugs, untl you saw young college kids from the suburbs decked out in bell-bottoms passed out on the streets of Haight-Ashbury.

Soon, people began to associate drug usage with this radical undercurrent that threatened to harm the American way of life and overturn the government. They were outlawed and its use still persisted. We turned a corner in the 70s, when we forgot about “us” and got into the concept of “me”.

The days of communal acid trips where everything and everyone was united were over; now we were into all-night disco dancing, fueled by coke and ampetamines to pump us up. The brekaing down of conservative barriers that rock n roll engendered with marijuana morphed into a selfish plunging into blatant drug abuse.

The 80s saw the unfortunate rise of crack cociane and by the 90s e was just starting to come onto the scene, fueling countless rave parties and the emergence of the dance scene (and before you electronic enthusiasts leave comments like “BUT DUDE TECHNO/TRANCE/WHATEVER OBSUCRE GENRE IS IN RIGHT NOW WAS AROUND BEFORE THIS”, chill out, I know that, I’m just making a general point here).

And so we arrive here. In the 2000,s it’s almost shocking to note how integrated into everyday life drugs have become. Any conversation can be peppered with a subtle weed joke to break the ice. Autobiographies explaining the author’s descent into addiction and rising from the ashes to find Jesus fly off the shelves. We have celebirties in the public eye who atend rehab, with endless shows to discuss their fall from grace and attempt at redemption. Head shops are pretty much Generaton Y’s answers to speakeasies.

The guys running Area 51 are looking at all the stoners and rollers and going, “Damn, that’s a badly-kept secret.”

It seems everybody’s getting wind of America’s favorie pasttime that isn’t baseball, and we’re slowly lifting the rug to discover the nation’s collective dirty little secret. Like it or not, notwithstanding how you feel about it, it seems drugs have become a part of everyday life and they’re here to stay. Pot breaks are quickly replacing coffee or cigarette breaks in many of today’s retail chains, and people aren’t suddenly buying more Vicks vapor rub inhalants because there’s a new influenza breaking out.

It’s funny to note how the black market organizies itself like a legitimate business. The local pill dealer around the corner around the corner organizes things like a hierarchical corporation: he gets the suppply, sends a few sellers to go make money for it, he collects the vast majority of profits, gives a share to his network, and creates a supply for it and ensures he has a handle on the demand. What Rosco has learned from being on the streets is anything you’d hear in an Economics 101 class in college.

The thing that’s making the most cash and surving in this economy is precisely the thing that’s illegal and has, as a result, beend riven underground. Oh, such is the irony of this great land.

What started out as teh calling card of rebels wishing to break free from the old order of God, family, and rigidity has become a capitalistic free-for-all. Cannabis is no longer about connecting to others or being enlightened; it’s now just another way to get buzzed and make money. Pretty soon, if it gets legalized, it’ll be consolidated by brand names and sold in conveience stores, being regulated and taxed. Trust me on that one.

As you can imagine, being a raging pessimist, and living in the Big Easy, I’ve done my fair share of worshipping the porcelain god. I thought, as public service for my readers, in these dire times when it seems everyone’s losing their jobs and that the world is headed for nuclear annihilation, that I’d provide you with my official Guide To Drinking (TM).

First off, I’d like to provide a retrospective on drinking. Keep in mind most of this is pseudo-satire and that I really don’t condone alcohol or excessive substance abuse. Oh, who the hell am I kidding, I really don’t care what you do with your life, just don’t come up to me at a party and start whining about your ex.

Being inebriated is, in essence, what unites us. Go back through the history of human culture and you will see cultures worshipped through festivities involving the lust of liqour. It’s really just a social lubricant and a truth serum as well. Intoxication opens us up to new ways of thinking, lowered personal defense mechanisms, and an overall good feeling of euphoria and well-being.

To test ourselves is to lose ourselves in the excesses of hedonism. We see how far we can go before we pass out or puke. The straight-edge subculture is a noble idea but ultimately (in my eyes) a borng and restrictive mindset. Don’ let alcohol control you; you control it. There’s nothing wrong with an ocassional drink or beer bash. I always felt people who don’t drink are a bit closed-off and there’s something judgemental and sequestered about them.

Now, then, enough of that boring poetry. Let’s move on as I discuss and analyze these different types of alochol:

Beer

The requisite Anglo-Saxon drink and an old standby in drinking and lad culture. Beer is pretty much working-class juice and what everyone looks forward to after a long and hard day’s of work. Personally, to be honest, I’m not that into the yellow liquid. I feel like it tastes like piss. But it’s cheap and doesn’t actually have that much proof in it, which is why everyone likes it.

Whisky

Ah, good ol’ whisky. Every time I pick up a bottle and let this stuff burn my esophags, it’s like an old friend coming back home to give me my birthday licks. JD is harsh and smooth at the same time, and it mixes well with anything. To drink whisky is to say you’re a rough-and-tumble sort of fellow. Any girl that touches this stuff is guaranteed to have a tattoo on her upper arm, trust me on that. One of my personal favorites.

Vodka

FOR THE MOTHERLAND! Vodka packs more of a punch than whisky, without its polarizing bitterness. Vodka, to me, has always had more of a clear, odorless and tasteless flavor. But, like whisky, it mixes well. You have to watch vodka, though, because it is prone to sneak up on you.

Unlike whisky, which hits you immediately upon impact, you’ll take a few sips of vodka and be all, “This ain’t shit,” and an hour later you’ll wake up on a bathroom floor, shirtless and with your hair all messed up. Taaka is my go-to, since it’s cheap and strong. The higher-up and more expensive brands, like Grey Goose and whatnot, apparently tend to be more classy and sophisticated. I say, what does it matter, you’ll end up hugging random people anyway.

Tequila

Like the infamous song of the same name, it builds up and then takes you to a conclusion that simply has you going “WTF?” Maybe it’s its Latino hertage, or the placebo mystique surrouding it, but tequila will simply make you crazy. Especially patron. I’ve had this a few times and it’s always the one that puts me over the edge. It’s a journey few dare to take, but when you do, you’ll be happy you did.

Jagermesiter

To those of you out there who don’t partake in drinking or have never tasted this, and are curious as to its flavor, just imagine a cough syrup that makes your head feel loose. That’s jager. Like beer, I don’t prticularly care for this. I’ll drink it every now and then or have a shot when I’m on Bourbon, but otherwise it’s too strong of a drink for me to honestly handle. I do like a tiny bit of taste to my being fucked-up. I guess it’s Germany’s way of getting revnge for us making them pay for World War I. Jagerbombs might quite possibly be able to literally bomb a country with their potency (more on that later).

Rum

Standby of pirates everywhere. It’s disheartening to see rum seemingly fall out favor with the general public. Perhaps because of its smuggling history, many don’t want to touch rum. Rum is interesting because it packs a sweet-and-sour taste. Rum also mixes well and will creep up on you, but not as strongly as vodka. Malibu especially is underestimated as a “girl’s drink”, but I can tell from personal experience not to take it lightly, as it will get you laid.

Daiquiri

Whenever I hear someone call something a daiquiri and I see a piss-poor bright concocton in a glass, I simply have to laugh. Here in the 504, we pour daiquris in a cup. And we don’t play around either. Daiquiris are cool because they’re like a smoothie that make syou stumble. Daiquris are serviceable if you’re hanging out at someone’s house but you don’t want to get too plastered. Here, we put them in styrofoam cups ina  straw and we even have drive-thru daiquiri shops. And people wonder why we have trouble evacuating for Katrina….

Absinthe

The favorite of poets and bohemians, it’s the infamous “Green Dragon”. I only had this once since it was legalized, and it was in a mojito. To my suprise, it had a minty taste and went down fairly easy. All the bs you’ve heard about it is pure hype: it is somewhat lucdi but in more of a drunk way. Trust me, it’s not the liquid form of LSD; while it does give you a more “clear” intoxication, it didn’t make me wanna muder anybody. I do want to kill the tourists down here on ocassion when I’m drunk and they bump into me in the French Quarter, but that’s a different story….

Smirnoff

Back when I first started out as a strung-out deliquent, this is what me and my friends used to sip on. That was before I grew some balls and became a goddamn man. Acceptable for women to appear all chic and cosmopolitan, absolutely unforgievable for a man to be seen with this in his hands in public, even if he is a Liberal Arts major. Hurts your stomach and barely even gives you a buzz. Pretty much the Zima of the 2000s.

Mixers

Coca-Cola

There’s the stereotypical jack and coke, and coke and vodka as well. I’m not too big a fan of coke in general. Use it if you want a bite to your drink or a particular sting.

Sprite

To me, Sprite has always flown under the radar as a soft drink and mixer. It’s got a jump to its taste, but not enough to where it overwhelms you or turns you off. Sprite and vodka has always been my preferred medicine.

Orange juice

For all your screwdriver needs! Orange juice is thick and packs a hearty and tasty feel. There’s a reason people mix in vodka with it: it hides the taste of vodka while also complimenting it.

Red Bull

Was tha just the sound of a college kegstand I heard? Some teenaged genius out there thought, “You know, this alcohol really messes me up, but you know what it’s missing? A potential heart attack and hyperness!” Thus the red bull & {insert beverage here} was born. Unhealty, yes, as critics warn us, but if you’re getting shitfaced, you’re not too worried about spending a night in the ER, are you? I would say use this in moderation, as mjy experiences with this are mixed: the energy drink lifts you up while the alcohol brings you down. It’s like being on a mental rollercoaster. I had to get off of energy drinks because you crash bad from them. Be advised if your friend tries this: not only do you have a drunk on your hands, but you have an awake drunk as well.

Well, that’s all for this edition of Your Guide to Drinking (TM). Remember, don’t drink and drive. Wait to drink to get home, then in the sad and lonely confines of your bedroom, can you drown your sorrows.

On the message boards, in the newsletters, all over the Internet, there’s always talk of drawing in the “casual fan” to wrestling. Hardcore wrestling fans claim it will jumpstart the next boom of wrestling. WWE seems like they are obviously trying to reach non-fans with having Jeremy Piven and Shaq guest-hosting RAW.

But what I have to ask, is where is this mythical causal fan? He must be too busy riding unicorns and consorting with leprechauns (not Hornswoggle) to really be tuning in to Raw and Smackdown, if the ratings are any indication.

What does it mean to draw in the casual fan? By the very nature of their name, causal fans won’t become loyal and dedicated. Sure, they might give a bump to the ratings of the show, or but a T-shirt at a live event. But will they go out searching for DVDs the company puts out? Would theyd rive two hours just to make a show?

Some loyal wrasslin’ pundits snub their nose at casual fans. It’s the whole uber-geek tribal thing. It’s the same attitude hardcore gamers have about those who spend their time on the Wii or Guitar Hero: they are infilitarting a sacred entertainment compound that they know nothing about.

It’s this clannish and elitist attitude that will keep enterprises like gaming and wrestling from ever truly expanding. Thus, it will be seen as a fringe movement, relegated to obsessive lunatics and virgin, acne-ridden fanatics. Then again, the core fanbase may not truly want to see expansion. To borrow a quote from Kurt Cobain, “our little group, it always has been, always will be until the end”.

The causal fan becomes a complex and burdensome phenomenon: at once they foster more mainstream attention and acceptance of a phenomenon, and at the same dilute the purity of it. The Attitude Era wasa prime example of this: to some a golden era of wrestling, to others an absolute travesty of the product.

In the end, being a casual fan, they will inevitably leave, no hint of loyalty whatsoever. I am reminded of this with many conversations I have had with former and non-fans: they remember the days of Goldberg and Chainsaw Charlie, but know nothing of what’s going on the shows today. They fondly recall the days of RVD soaring in the air but freely admit they only jumped on the bandwagon because it was soaring in popularity and everyone else was watching at the time.

The question is, does the casual fan exist? Or is it something the workrate snobs and McMahon’s entertainment-searching mind have conjured up? When exactly does a causal fan become a devoted legion, and where do you draw the line? Does the potential for such a metamorphosis even exist?

Man, are people making a big stink about the whole health care controversy or what?

 One unfortunate part of the Gates/Crowley debacle was that it took attention away just as Obama was trying to push his reform plan through Congress.

Methinks it was a bit of a coup: Republicans saw an opening, a flaw in Obama’s shining radiance of perfection, a chink in the armor, and zeroed in on the kill.

Both sides are freaking out and acting like it’s the Second Coming: right-wingers claim this will be the start of Big Brother and the government controlling our lives (neverminding it’s already practically that way), while liberals claim this is a magical cure-all and that life after this will be a wonderful paradise where nobody will ever fall through the cracks.

Ibasically support Obama’s health care reforms, although there are even more obvious strides to be made.

The problem is the alarmist hyperbole on both sides. What’s really going on (and what’s a criminally overlooked problem) is that people don’t comprehend what’s actually going on. The average man reads so much legalese and politco talk that they don’t get the basic idea that the goverment will regulate which hospitals we get to go to, in a socialistic swoop deisgned to see that everyone gets affordable coverage (provided you don’t already have a pre-preferred provider, which you can keep if you want).

Lord knows why I’m even writing this, as Leonard Pitts and Eugene Robinson have already done excellent pieces tearing these guys to shreds. I hate to waste bandwith on these half-witted ignoramuses, but here it goes.

Out there, somewhere, around the orbit of Mars I presume, is a rising movemnet called the “birthers”. Far from New Age guys in touch with their feelings who are re-living their own birth, they claim Obama’s seat in the Oval Office is a sham because he was not actually born in America.

What they base their claims on or where they acquire such information is about as clear as going to a laser light show with sunglasses on, but they stand by their point. They claim Obama was not conceived in this country.

Never mind that there have been announcements in the Hawaiian newspaper proclaiming his coming into this world or the fact that HE HAS PRODUCED A BIRTH CERTIFICATE CERTIFYING THIS.

God, I swear, right-wingers will claw at any little shred of anything they can get at to smear this man’s reputations. When they linked his middle name to terrorists, they  moved on to scare tactics of calling him a *gasp* commie.

Now that the initial fear has worn off and Americans aren’t buying their alarmist crap, this is what they throw at us. Far be it from them to challenge him on his ideas for government or where he stands on certain platforms (and these platforms happen to be outside the jurisdiction of this country, mind you).

How do I know Mitt Romney and Rush Limbaugh were born here, after all? They raise a good point: unless someone carries proof of citizenship on them 24/7, I think everybody’s suspect. I always did think Sean Hannity sounded a bit too Mexican to be a true patriot…..

“Traitor!”