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[Parrot News] The Devil Wears Parrot

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During the recent inauguration ceremony for the Miami Official Walk of Fame, Anne Hathaway’s hair was pecked vigorously by the overly enthusiastic parrot she was posing with for pictures.

Wait, what?

Let’s take this piece by piece, shall we:

There’s a Miami Official Walk of Fame? Yes! Well, now there is anyhow. It’s at the Bayside Marketplace, a “festival marketplace”, featuring “exciting shopping, dining and entertainment” in Downtown Miami.

So it’s at a mall? No no no no no no no no! It’s an “arts and entertainment district at Bayside Marketplace” which is known as “one of South Florida’s Parrot News- 040114- baysideprime hospitality and tourism destinations and a vital economic growth engine for Miami.”

So…it’s at a mall? Yes.

And, who’s in this Miami Official Walk of Fame? All sorts of Big Time Celebrities! “The Official Miami Walk of Fame immortalizes some of the entertainment industry’s biggest names, many who are hometown celebrities in entertainment, television, theater, sports, music and others, chosen by a selection committee of industry peers.”

So…? Everybody! Andy Garcia! Jamie Foxx! Uhm….the animated movie Rio 2. And….oh…. Romero Britto.

Romero Britto? What has he done? Lots of stuff! Like…uhm…well- for one thing he designed the Official Miami Walk of Fame Star.Parrot News- 040114- miamistar

And they paid him by giving him a star? Well….yeah..he also gets a free Bloomin’ Onion at the Bayside Marketplace Outback and 15% off entrees at the Cheesecake Factory

SWEET!!! Yeah, I know, right. I wish I had designed that star. I love Bloomin’ Onions.

Anyhow- so… OK, so right- Anne Hathaway was attending the inauguration of the Official Miami Walk of Fame – where they were giving the very first stars to Andy Garcia, Jamie Foxx and Rio 2.

Wait wait wait wait wait- NOT DAVID CARUSO?????????? I know. It’s a fucking outrage.Parrot News- 040114- caruso

And Anne Hathaway got a star? Well…not exactly. She didn’t get her own star. She was just honored as part of Rio 2.

That’s very sad. Yeah, so, Anne Hathaway was posing for pictures with a parrot at the ceremony when the parrot got out of control and started nibbling at her short hair.

So….why was she posing with a parrot again? I guess she does a voice of a parrot in Rio 2.

Oh. And why does she still have that haircut? You’re on your own with that one, dude.

They probably told her it was for Les Miz 2. Totally- she’ll believe anything. Just say it to her with an Italian accent.

Alright- so- let me get this straight- Academy Award winner Anne Hathaway was at some bullshit ceremony in some bullshit mall for some bullshit Walk of Fame, where she wasn’t even getting her own star, posing for pictures with some bullshit parrot to promote some bullshit sequel to a bullshit cartoon when the parrot attacked the hair which she cut really short for the movie that she won the Academy Award for- just as a reminder about how wrong things have gone for her since she won? – Yup.

Wow That’s like the saddest thing I’ve ever hear. Did she get paid?  Yes! Well, Garcia gave her some Bloomin’ Onion.Parrot News- 040114- garciaeating

SWEET!! So, that’s a great story. I guess- I mean, there are a lot of people I would much rather see get attacked by a parrot- like Gweneth Paltrow, for instance- who wouldn’t want to see a parrot consciously uncouple her eyes from their sockets.

And Jenny McCarthy- hey, I hear she’s not vaccinated for Bird Flu! Uhm, there’s no vaccination for…  shut up.

The best would be Suey Park– who? – you know, the Twit-iot who started the whole #CancelColbert crap– oh yeah! We could sic an African Grey on her and when she screams, we’ll call her a racist (high five) #SueyHatesAfricans #NotYourParrotSidekick #PhightParrotPhobia

Nevertheless, the parrot chose to go after Anne Hathaway. Yeah. Maybe in the future, someone truly deserving will be attacked- like maybe Dear Parrot will let Kim Jung Un know just what he thinks of the Official Haircut, or maybe Putin will make an ill-advised foray into parrot wrestling. BTW, Vlad- when North Korea, Syria and Sudan are the ones who agree with you,  that just makes you seem more crazy.  I mean- you want Westboro Baptist Church protesting your funeral- not showing up with flowers and a tuna casserole.Parrot News- 040114- kim That’s as bad as having Michelle Malkin promote your hashtag!

And – don’t forget the Kardashians- Oh yeah! Don’t even tempt me with Hitchcockian visions of parrots descending on Calabasas to punish humanity for our terrible taste in reality show stars.

For the time being, though, we’ll have to content ourselves with Anne Hathaway.  Well- she did host those terrible Oscars with James Franco- That’s right! Now, hey, James Franco- there’s someone who could really use a good parrot attack. Then again, if he did, he’d just write a poem about it- and then we’d all have to suffer. So…sorry, Anne. I guess you’re just taking a parrot attack for the team. If I were you, I’d pass on Rio 3. God knows what kind of horrible critters she’d have to pose with.

The inauguration of Miami’s first-ever Walk of Fame

 

 

 

Parrot News- 040114- anneandy

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s a link to the story- if you’re curious: http://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/whos-pretty-polly-anne-hathaway-3271427

[California Seething] CPR is Optional but March Madness Isn’t

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I was in a CPR class with my co-workers when an interesting question came up. Our instructor, Safety Bob (not his real name- but very, very close) was stressing the importance of using breathing barriers when giving mouth-to-mouth in order to avoid the spread of disease when one of my colleagues asked “what if you see someone who needs CPR but you don’t have a breathing 50th Anniversary Of CPR Marked In San Franciscobarrier with you?”

Well- Safety Bob had a quick response for that one, and he shot back with a rhetorical question- “Look at the person who needs help on the ground in front of you and ask: how important is his life?” Wow. Point made. We all nodded – clearly understanding the value of every human life.

But then, much to our surprise, Safety Bob began to prioritize:

“If it’s a family member- then, of course, no question- do what you need to do to save their lives.” OK. Yeah. Got that. Don’t let your sister die. Noted.

”If it’s a co-worker. Well…yes. You should do CPR. Probably” Nervous laughter around the room as we all avoided eye contact with that one guy with the English accent who was on nobody’s “probably” list.

“And, if it’s a homeless guy passed out on the street- absolutely not. Your life is way more important than his. I see a homeless guy unconscious with a brown paper bag and an empty bottle sticking out of it, the most I’m gonna do is poke him with my foot to make sure he’s breathing.”

I know. It’s shocking right, this attitude towards human life. I couldn’t believe it- I was like – Best CPR Teacher EVAH! I mean, here I was totally stressed out about taking this class because I was sure that, once I took it, if I saw some super-gross icky homeless dude lying all passed out in vomit on the street and I thought he might be, you know, dying or something, then I would have to, like, actually DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. EWWWWWWW Homeless Guy mouth SOOOOO GROSS. Turns out, though- I’m off the hook! I can totally just let him die and I don’t have to feel bad about it cause Safety Bob said it was cool. This Republican CPR is AMAZEBALLS.

And it doesn’t stop there- even co-workers are just a “Probably”. So think about that- Mr. “I Reply All to Every Fucking Company Wide E-Mail That Has Nothing to do with Me Because I Have to Make Sure Everyone Knows What I Think at All Times Because I’m So Motherfucking Goddamn Important” and Ms. “I Make Every Single Fucking Meeting Last An Hour and a Half Longer than it has to Because I Always Have to Have the Last Word and I Can’t Stop Myself From Asking the Stupidest Fucking Questions Especially When the Meeting is Going RIGHT THROUGH LUNCHTIME.” Cause the next time you’re about to email “Great job everybody, go team!” to 150 people who hate your fucking guts for cluttering their goddamn Inbox or say “So…wait…how does this new email system work again?” at 1:30 PM when we’ve been talking about it for TWO FUCKING HOURS – just remember – YOU’RE ALL GOING TO (probably) DIE.

OK, so, to be fair, Safety Bob was just talking about the risk of pathogens passing through mouth to mouth contact and, strictly speaking, if I see a homeless person on the ground, then I should still do chest compressions if I think he needs help. Well, I mean- of course he needs help– he’s homeless- that comes with the job description – but I’m not teaching a fucking life skills class- I’m just doing CPR. I mean, sure maybe I can save his life but I can’t give him something to live for.  Not that CPR really saves many lives- I mean, mostly it’s just a way to feel better about yourself when someone drops dead in front of you- so that things aren’t so awkward if you ever meet the family. Let’s face it- it’s much better to say “I’m so sorry for the loss of your father. I did all I could, but I just couldn’t save him.” as opposed to “Sorry ‘bout your dad, dude- I totally Instagrammed that shit! #badsamaritan  #sadpanda”

Now- you might think I’m really tempting Karma by joking about all the co-workers I probably wouldn’t save, but I’m not worried Cal Seething- 032414- santabecause I perform a very valuable service for my company. No- it’s not “playing Santa at the holiday party” or “making wise-ass remarks during boring meetings” or “operating the Kirk Douglas Theatre” pffft- whatevs. No- I run the company’s annual STRICTLY UNOFFICIAL FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY March Madness pool. In the years I’ve been running the pool, it’s grown from 15 to 56 brackets, making it the fastest growing enterprise in non-profit theatre- and it now includes players from theatres around the country – which is so typical of our field these days. Even the March Madness pool is a co-production.

Now, for those of you that aren’t familiar with March Madness cause you’re one of those people who don’t like things that are awesome- like, maybe you’re a baseball fan or a botanist or that old couple from the Safeco ads whose idiot son drowned tragically while Cal Seething- 032414- Safecojet-skiing with his Shiksa wife (which serves him right for going camping on his honeymoon and not listening to his mother. I mean- camping- does that sound romantic to you? At least he had that Safeco “Death Wish” policy they keep advertising for motorcycle riding jet ski enthusiasts, or whatever those commercials are for)  March Madness refers to the NCAA Division 1 Men’s Basketball Tournament (there’s a Women’s version too but who cares #marchsadness.) It is, arguably, the most exciting three week period of the sports year. Seriously- if you love watching young people working their ass off for no money in a ferociously competitive environment but you don’t already work in entertainment then March Madness is the next best thing. And I know a lot of people think it’s not fair that big corporations & the NCAA make billions off March Madness but the players get nothing- but I prefer to think of the well being of our young people. I mean- what kind of lesson would we be teaching them if we told them life was fair? How does that help prepare them for the world? I mean, if we don’t teach them how to be exploited by big corporations in school, how will they be ready to be exploited by big corporations when they graduate? We can’t count on Enterprise Rent-A-Car and Discover Card to do everything.

So much like watching NFL Football or a Woody Allen film festival or reading the works of Heidegger in your Book Club for Douchey Pricks (we meet at Intelligentsia Coffee and it’s BYO Kale) enjoying March Madness means shutting out all the evil stuff behind it. But isn’t that also one of the most important life lessons we can teach our young people today? I mean, unless you want to work for a non-profit and eat raw foods and ride your bike everywhere and make your own clothes from hemp- sooner or later you’re going to have to learn how to compartmentalize in order to survive, cause sooner or later your parents are gonna get sick of you bitching about the coded Transphobia on RuPaul’s Drag Race and they’ll kick you the fuck out the house. Anyhow- there’s so much awesome stuff about March Madness- why dwell on the evil? I mean, it’s not just about the NCAA and their Corporate Overlords  Champions making billions of dollars on the backs on unpaid workers- NO- it’s about gambling and lost productivity and making a whole bunch of totally arbitrary decisions about something you know absolutely nothing about and then basing your entire sense of self worth on the outcome of those decisions and WHAT DO YOU MEAN KANSAS IS LOSING??? I Cal Seething- 032414- kidHAVE THEM GOING TO THE SWEET 16 HOW THE FUCK CAN THEY LOSE???? Come on Kansas, you’re a Goddamn superstar championship team, don’t you see that little white kid crying in the stands? Win it for him! You’re one of the best teams in the country, so remember who you are, get your shit together and WIN ALREADY and then with the next one AND THEN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PLAY LIKE THE STINKING FUCKING USELESS LOSERS YOU ARE AND LOSE TO FLORIDA!!!! I won’t be wrong again!!! This year I’m going to win this fucking pool!!!!!!!!

Sorry, I’ve been watching basketball practically non-stop for four days. It’s begun to take its toll. I’m unshaven, I haven’t showered, I’m hoarse from screaming and totally out of touch with the world. In four short days, I’ve gone from a productive member of society to Howard Hughes – if Howard Hughes had picked Syracuse to go to the Elite 8 only to watch them LOSE TO DAYTON!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK SYRACUSE????? You would think after all these years that I would have learned that no matter how good they might look Syracuse is always going to disappoint EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME- oh, wait, sorry- except for that one year where I picked them to lose in the Round of 32 and they went to the Final Four. WHAT THE FUCK, JIM BOEHEIM?? Haven’t I always been a fan? Didn’t I used to have a small novelty Syracuse basketball and HOLY SHIT Kansas is within 3 with 15 seconds to go. They can win this thing!! The white kid in the stands stopped crying!!! Come on…come on… shootitshootitshootitshootit OK- wait, yes, pass it to the Intense Little White Guy Whose Name I Don’t Know. Good plan. COME ON INTENSE LITTLE WHITE GUY WHOSE NAME I DON’T KNOW!!! SHOOTITSHOOTITSHOOTITSHOOTISHOOTIT YESSSS!!!! NO!!!! He missed. Ball is loose GET THE REBOUND. No!!! NO!!! FUCK NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  IT’S OVER. Yeah, Yeah. Shake hands, shake hands. Good game good game good game good game. LOSERS. Ha- that’s awesome- they keep showing that crying little Kansas fan kid. Go on, little white Kansas fan, cry your little eyes out- this is only gonna be on YouTube in 10 seconds for the entire world to ridicule you (isn’t the Internet great?)- but don’t worry- you’ll get over it. Someday, you’re going to grow up and go to Kansas and wear a giant stuffed Jayhawk on your head and Cal Seething- 032414- jayhawkcheer your heart out only to watch Kansas crush all your hopes and dreams ALL OVER AGAIN while you shamelessly weep and the entire world ridicules you again cause if there’s one thing funnier than a little kid weeping it’s a dude wearing a giant stuffed Jayhawk on his head crying like a bitch. ISN’T MARCH MADNESS FUN?????????? Yes. Damn it. Yes.

Look, you would think I’d be used to this annual humiliation- but I was sure this year was going to be different because, this year, I was counting on Big Data to save me. That’s right- no more picking sentimental favorites or media darlings or schools with funny names or Gonzaga (all of the above)- this was the year I would rely on Cold Hard Math and Slightly Warmer but Equally Hard Data to make my picks- and the Prophet who would take me to the Promised Land of Probability- none other than Nate Silver. That’s right- Mr FiveThirtyEight.com himself- the man about whom I said in a previous post “Nate Silver and My Wife are AlwaysCal Seething- 032414- natemath Right” the man who predicted the 2012 Obama landslide, the man who…well…I’m sure has also been right about a whole bunch of other stuff too, even though I have no idea what it is. No longer would I wander in the desert, lost in a wasteland of speculation and guesswork- this year, I would finally come home. I would be the Prodigal Fan and Nate Silver would prepare a banquet of perfect picks before me to feast on. Baptized in numbers, sanctified by statistics I would ascend like Elijah to heaven on a flaming chariot of accuracy to the top of the CTG March Madness pool and for the first time in eight years I would finally finish HIGHER THAN 6TH FUCKING PLACE HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH!!!!

With the fervor of a true convert- I turned to Nate Silver’s Super Duper Handy Dandy Auto Adjusting  Bracket-ator O-Matic Bot Thingy (NOT the official name, but it should be. Nate- you can totally use this one. Uhm….you’re welcome? Dick)- using my Clear Thinking Left Brain to make my picks and ruthlessly silencing my Mushy Headed Right Brain Instincts, Feelings & Anecdotal Information at every turn.

Right Brain: Gee, Left Brain Eric- you’re picking Duke to go to the Elite 8? Didn’t you think they looked awfully listless and apathetic during the ACC Tournament- plus they don’t really have much experience. I feel like…

Left Brain: QUIET YOU. They numbers tell me they will reach the Elite 8.

Right Brain: Wowzers, Left Brain Eric- you’re picking Kansas to go to the Sweet 16- you know that Joel Embiid is out, right – and Cal Seething- 032414- brainthey’re gonna need his defense. I feel like….

Left Brain: SILENCE FOOL. You know nothing. The numbers say to pick Kansas, so I shall pick Kansas and have them lose to Syracuse in the Sweet 16.

Right Brain: Wait- Syracuse? Dude- are you fucking kidding me? Syracuse has been tanking lately- they’ll be luck to get by Dayt….

Left Brain: ENOUGH YOU INSOLENT BUFFOON. I shall tolerate no more of your anecdotal nonsense. THOU MUST NOT QUESTION BIG DATA. Now- will you behave? Or do I need to read another painfully long article about the possible whereabouts of flight MH370.

Right Brain: No, no- I’ll be good.

Left Brain: Are you sure? Look- this one has nautical charts!

Right Brain: GET IT AWAY! I’ll behave. I promise.

So with my Right Brain properly disciplined I set about making my….wait…come on…OK…YES!! OK Wichita State- down by 2. You can win this thing. 3.2 seconds left….inbound the ball… GET IT TO EARLY…or wait…OK….get it to the Floppy Haired White Guy….COME ON FLOPPY HAIRED WHITE GUY…no…wait… he’s passing to the Other White Guy…why is he doing that….COME ON OTHER WHITE GUY…shootitshootitshootitSHOOTITSHOOTIT!!!!! YES! Wait NO!!!!!!!! It’s Over? FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!! Yeah, Yeah. Shake hands, shake hands. Good game good game good game good game. Thanks a lot Kentucky for validating everything wrong with College Basketball. Oh wait- hold on- I had Kentucky winning in one of my brackets. SWEET! Thanks, Kentucky- for validating everything that’s great about College Basketball! Sigh. Cal Seething- 032414- wichitaI’m such a whore. Hey, look, it’s a crying Wichita State fan. Man! I haven’t seen this many white people cry since Romney lost. I mean there were a whole bunch of them crying during 12 Years a Slave but that’s cause they knew everyone was watching (“no, seriously, you guys – I’m like soooo sad about slavery.)

And speaking of Romney, I was confident that with Nate Silver at my side I could avoid his fate of looking at data selectively to validate what I wanted to be true only to be crushed when reality reared its ugly head. No, this year I would be like Obama- looking carefully at the real numbers and leveraging the data to my advantage so that everything worked out exactly as planned  (2012 Obama, not Healthcare.gov Obama.) I even strategically hedged my bets and used my two brackets to make slightly different picks to maximize my chances of triumph. Victory was practically guaranteed- hell I was kicking myself for not signing up for the Billion dollar challenge- cause with Nate Silver at my side, it would be like taking a billion dollars worth of candy from a baby who looks disturbingly like an 83 year old man from Omaha who, itCal Seething- 032414- buffet turns out, is significantly harder to take candy from.

Anyhow- after Day 1 (or “Thursday” as some people call it) things were looking pretty good. I mean, so, sure, OK- OSU lost to Dayton- but that was OK- I had them losing in the next round to Syracuse anyhow. Oh, yeah, and North Dakota State took down Oklahoma- but, that was fine- I mean, those 12 / 5 games are always tricky and, it’s all about playing the percentages, right? I mean- that’s the thing about Big Data- you’re not gonna be right all the time- just more often than anybody else. Right? I went to bed Thursday night in good position- tied for 9th just a couple points off the lead and confident that Big Data would lead me to glory in the long run and that I would emerge triumphant.

Right Brain: Ooooooh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this….

Left Brain: NAUTICAL. CHARTS.

Right Brain: I’m good.

Turns out, though, that my Right Brain was right to be concerned because Day 2 was, as my wife called it, “carnage”. By the end of the day, my bracket was covered in digital red ink as all as loser after loser after loser was crossed out. Now I had just learned in CPR that teachers aren’t supposed to use red ink anymore because it’s bad for our children’s self esteem to see all that red ink on their test page. Now I happen to agree with this 100%. It’s terrible for children’s self esteem to see so much red ink on a test- and the best thing we can do about this is make our kids less fucking stupid. But then again, we can’t even say “stupid” anymore. I’ve been notified by certain parents that “stupid” is a bad word and I can’t say it in front of their kids. Do you know how hard that it? I mean, if I can’t use the word “stupid” then what am I supposed to say when parents tell me that I can’t say “stupid” in front of their kids. Retarded?? That’s seriously verboten. Still- I must admit it’s a brilliant solution to our education woes. Why do we need our kids to be smart anyhow- what is this, India? It’s way more important they have good Self Esteem. Cause in America- we like our kids like we like Mitch McConnell- Over-Confident and Under-Educated!

OK, so yeah, I’m bitter, I’m lashing out, I’ll admit it. Day 2 was an unmitigated disaster.  Duke, New Mexico, Oklahoma State, UMass, VCU- all teams I picked. All GONE. And yet, somehow, at the end of it, I was still very much in the fight. Sure one bracket was in 35th place- but the other was in a very respectable tie for 11th. I was confident that all my defeats were simply statistical aberrations and that surely in the next round, Nate Silver would come swooping down like an avenging angel from heaven yielding Cal Seething- 032414- natehearthis Flaming Sword of Statistics (Worst. D&D Weapon. Ever) and would carry me to glory! Right? Right????

Right Brain: Yeah, not so much.

Yeah, not so much. I don’t even want to talk about what happened on Day 3. Or on Day 4 so far for that matter. Suffice it to say, I’m in 44th place. In a tie. With myself. Oh, wait, no hold on- sorry, didn’t check after the Kentucky game – one bracket is up to 32nd. Zippidie. Fucking. Doo Dah. OK Wait- COME ON IOWA STATE. 15.7 left- don’t fuck it up-passing….passing….using the clock- what are you waiting for??? Shootitshootitshootitshootit – OK – yeah yeah yeah – get it to that guy- D’Andre Something Or Other With the Flat Top- he’s dribbling…he’s dribbling….he’s dribbling- DO SOMETHING ALREADY –CUT-PENETRATE- – SCORE!!!!YESSSSSSS!!!!! WAY TO GO D’ANDRE SOMETHING OR OTHER WITH A FLAT TOP- YOU’RE A FUCKING ROCKSTAR!!! 1.5 left. UNC has it- dribbling over half court- time running out- do they get the timeout???? Do they?? Uhm. Nobody seems to know. Refs are talking…they’re talking…they’re talking….COME ON ALREADY….talking…talking…looking at the screen….talking…talking…YES!!! IT’S OVER!!!!!  IOWA STATE WINS!!!!! IOWA STATE WINS!!!! I’ve never in my entire life given a shit about Iowa State one way or the other but you bet your sweet ass I do now because I GOT ONE RIGHT TODAY!!!!!! WE’RE NUMBER ONE!!! WE’RE NUMBER ONE. Well, OK, strictly speaking I’m in 28th place- but, hey- WE’RE NUMBER 28!!!! WE’RE NUMBER 28!!! In one bracket. The other is 43rd. OK,Yeah, Yeah. Shake hands, shake hands. Good game good game good game good game. HA! I’M A FUCKING GENIUS!!!!!  28th PLACE- BITCHEZ!!!!  I’m on the comeback trail. Sort of.  And, oh, of course- here’s a UNC fan crying. God- get over it white Cal Seething- 032414- uncpeople. Sure, you’re going to be a minority soon- but you’ve still got all that cool stuff from Pottery Barn.

Anyhow, that’s where I leave you- at the end of Day 4 with my brackets clinging to life. And while the prognosis isn’t good- I do feel like if Safety Bob saw my brackets on the ground he would definitely perform CPR. Probably. Let’s see how the UCLA game goes. What? They’re winning?? WOO-HOOOO!!! It’s you and me all the way Nate- we’re gonna win this thing!!!!

Right Brain: And he calls himself the rational one.

P.S.- UCLA won. Hurray!!! But Creighton lost to Baylor. FUCKKKKKKKKK!!!!! God this is rough- I’m gonna need CPR myself if things keep up at this rate- and the way I’ve been carrying on – no one’s gonna want to save me- ESPECIALLY not my family (the dog is particularly over it- but fuck him, his bracket’s doing great). But hey- what a way to go- Death by Bracket! I wonder if Safeco covers that?

Oh, and I couldn’t find a picture of a crying Creighton fan cause seriously, it’s Creighton, who gives a shit? So here’s that crying Kansas fan white kid again. Cal Seething- 032414- kidHave fun back at school kid! Don’t worry, you’re cool- I’m sure no one in Kansas was watching.

God, I love March Madness.

[Parrot News] Murder, It Squawked

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The Indian media lately has been positively buzzing with stories of Hercule, the crime solving parrot, I guess because cricket season hasn’t started yet and Indians are all kind of Ukraine-Shmukraine – whatevs.  I hate the fact, BTW, that the correct way to refer to it is not “the Ukraine” but just “Ukraine.” It just makes me sound like I can’t speak English when I say it.  I mean, how am I supposed to say “I go to Cal Seething- 031714-yakovUkraine” and not sound like Yakov Smirnov or a cat-stroking James Bond villain. Or…Yakov Smirnoff AS A CAT STROKING JAMES BOND VILLAIN. IT’S BRILLIANT! Get me my Petition hat, Mama- and warm up the Change.org- THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN.

Anyhow, as the crime fighting parrot story goes, Neelam Sharma and her pet dog were murdered in Agra as Hercule looked on silently. While Agra PD were interviewing suspects in the presence of Hercule (in India you have the right to remain silent and you may have a parrot present during questioning. If you can’t provide a parrot- one will be provided for you) the police noticed that Hercule would react violently every time Sharma’s nephew Ashutosh’s name was mentioned. Trained as they are to carefully observe the behavior of parrots during questioning, the police decided to call in all the suspects to meet with Hercule. Sure enough, when Ashutosh met with Hercule- Hercule began screeching “He killed! He killed!” Confronted with this insurmountable evidence, Ashutosh naturally crumbled and confessed to the murder. Another case solved for Hercule Parrot! And- oh yes. The name is really Hercule Parrot. Evidently Jessica Feather was taken.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here and think the Indian police make a habit of consulting with parrots about their cases. Why, the crusty, hard-headed Homicide Lieutenant in Agra didn’t even want Hercule’s help- he even called Hercule a “meddling old bird”. But Hercule insisted on participating in the investigation- especially once his nephew was falsely accused and arrested for the crime, and the gruff, stubborn Homicide Lieutenant had no choice but to listen to the crime solving bird. Once Hercule figured out who the killer was, he had the tough, set-in-his-ways Homicide Lieutenant call all the suspects together at a Parrot News- 031714-morgandinner party in a traditional English country house, one of many just outside Agra (India’s Yorkshire) so that he could confront all the suspects. One by one, Hercule masterfully ruled them all out- including the most obvious suspect- Sharma’s hot-headed, violent ex-lover Sanjeev MacGuffin and his voluptuous, scheeming, gold digging wife Morgan Fairchild.  Finally, he reached mild mannered Ashutosh. Ashutosh- who never harmed a fly. Ashutosh- the last person anyone would ever suspect. Ashutosh- who bears a striking resemblance to Roddy McDowell.

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

Ashutosh: Surely you must be joking.

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

Ashutosh: Why that’s absurd. I think your parrot imagination is running away with you.Parrot News- 031714-roddy

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

Ashutosh: Interesting theory. Too bad you can’t prove a word of it.

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

Ashutosh: Alright. Yeah. I killed her. I didn’t mean to. (FLASHBACK ALERT!) I was just breaking into the house to take some of her jewels so I could pay off my gambling debts. She wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. But then she came back unexpectedly and that dog- he wouldn’t stop barking. I tried to reason with her, I pleaded with her, I begged her not to call the police but she just wouldn’t listen to reason. Then I looked down. I saw that I was holding that really sharp, pointy, super-heavy trophy she always kept on her desk for some baffling reason and before I knew what I was doing I was stabbing her with it. Over and over and over again. And once that was done, well I couldn’t take any chances, so I had to shut up that dog, too. The only mistake I made was leaving you alive Hercule- but that’s not a mistake I’m going to make again (pulls out gun)

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

Ashutosh: That’s right I killed! And you’re out of your parrot mind if you think I’m going to jail for it. You think I’m afraid to use this gun? One murder- five murders- what’s the difference? They can only hang me once!! I’ll kill everyone who gets in my way! They’ll never take me alive! I’ll murder each and every one of you!!!

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!Parrot News- 031714-roddy2

Ashutosh realized he’s got nowhere to run to. With tears in his eyes, he surrenders his gun to the ornery, obstinate Homicide Lieutenant.  Hercule looks on with great sadness and shakes his head slowly.

Hercule: Squawk! He killed! He killed!

So there you have it. All the details of the story- just the way it happened. Oh- except Hercule’s real name is Hira. And he didn’t solve the case at all. And everything I said above is a complete lie based on wild exaggerations from the Indian media. Everything. Ashutosh doesn’t look anything like Roddy McDowell. He’s really much more of a Ken Howard type.Parrot News- 031714-ken

Still, regardless of the petty details- the moral of the story remains the same- and that moral is: “leave the dog and kill the parrot.” Oh God, wait, that’s a terrible moral – you shouldn’t kill any of the pets. Or people! Don’t kill people, either. Don’t kill anyone. There. That’s the moral. Don’t kill anyone. Yeah, that’s it.

But you know, sometimes shit happens- I mean, pobody’s nerfect and all that- so if you do just HAPPEN to kill someone, then you’d better hope the cops don’t have the parrot in the room when they’re questioning suspects. Cause no matter how careful you think you’ve been, take it from Ashutosh, there’s no escaping the clutches of Hercule Parrot or Jessica Feather. Or even plain old Hira. Cause, when it comes to parrots, there’ s no such thing as a perfect crime.

Also, I hope to God cricket season starts soon because CLEARLY the Indian media has too much time on its hands. Maybe they could help find the Malaysian airliner or something? Hey – you know who that sounds like a job for, don’t you?

 

Crap I was hoping to find an adorable picture of a parrot in a Sherlock Holmes hat here, but I couldn’t so you’ll just have to imagine it and my Photoshop skills are too shitty to make one. So here’s a picture of Benedict Cumberbatch’s butt instead. Enjoy!

Parrot News- 031714-benedict

Oh yeah- and here’s my post about Murder, She Wrote which I mostly ripped off here.

 

 

 

[California Seething] A Day in the Absurd Life

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Transcript of phone call between Eric & Ronni Sims- March 1, 2013:

Eric: The mayor won’t let them film COPS in Albuquerque, that’s ridiculous! I agree, you should totally write about that in DESERT DROPPINGS (SHAMELESS PROMOTION ALERT). OK, hey listen, I’ve gotta go. No, everything’s ok- I’m just at work. Yeah. Well, they’re doing a reading upstairs of this new play about a Mexican-American family during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Yeah, I know- it does sound interesting. Lots of interesting themes to explore there. Anyhow, they’re about to finish, so I’ve gotta strike all the chairs and music stands and set up the bondage mannequins and sex toys for the 50 Shades Red Room before the balloons arrive. What? Yes, bondage mannequins. Yes. Yes. Oh, sure, of course I’ll take pictures. What was that? You’re right- I should totally write about this.

Look, I know that in an Office-Parks and Rec-Community world, everybody thinks that their workplace would make just the funniest, quirkiest single Cal Seething-031014-parkscamera sitcom ever. While this means that 40 year old writers can feel better about their barista jobs because they can tell their worried parents that they’re “doing research” while they borrow money for rent, the result is a whole lot of terrible spec scripts and an epidemic of reader suicides. Don’t judge-you’d eat lead too if you had to read Coffee Shop followed by Post Office followed by It’s Totally Not the Apple Store Even Though We’re All Wearing Black T-Shirts and There’s a “Smart Guy” Bar at the Store followed by Office Max- about a corporate office supply super-store- where, get this, the main character’s name is actually MAX- get it?? Get it??? GET IT????? Hey, wait, that’s pretty good. NBC would totally produce that. I should write it. CRAP! I just killed a reader. Sorry, dude. I’ll tell your wife you loved her.

The problem is, despite what aspiring writers in workplace approved polo shirts may think, most jobs are more depressing than Cal Seething- 031014-dilbertwacky-not so much Parks and Rec – more like Franz Kafka guest-writing for Dilbert. And, to be fair, my job isn’t a sitcom either. It’s straight up Eugene Ionesco – and for those of you that didn’t squander your education by becoming Theatre Majors, that’s “theatre of the absurd.” Now, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with becoming a theatre major- hey- if you can spend 4-6 years saying “red leather, yellow leather” over and over again for course credit, lying on the ground and really paying attention to your breathing and rehearsing scenes from True West in your dorm room between gravity bong hits- then, Mazal Tov, Amigo- you win college. But, just a word of advice- if you do decide to convert your Theatre Major into an actual career in the field then get a temp job that makes you learn Excel- cause nobody in the real world actually gives a shit if you know who Eugene Ionesco is as long as you can make a budget for The Bald Soprano.  

Anyhow, the whole point of Absurdist Theatre is that characters are doing and saying utterly nonsensical things with the utmost Cal Seething-031014-binabeseriousness and conviction like Matthew McConaughey’s Oscar speech or a less bonkers version of CPAC. And doing nonsensical things with the utmost seriousness is exactly what being a theatre professional is all about!  Or, as Eugene Ionesco would have said “Cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos.” Because- when it comes right down to it, making theatre is about putting in absolutely heroic efforts to achieve utterly ridiculous objectives. I mean, just imagine you’re part of Seal Team Six only instead of being sent to kill Bin Laden, you’ve been deployed to help him alphabetize his giraffes. Or, even worse, to help produce his one man show about Abraham Lincoln- and, oh, did I mention it’s a rock opera? And you know it’s a terrible idea and that no one will come and that he can’t even sing, but you still spend three weeks frantically searching for the perfect stovepipe hat that’ll fit over his turban while you argue ferociously at a production meeting about the budget with the set designer, who wants to import lumber because it’s totally impossible to find enough trees in Pakistan to make a good log cabin- and if it doesn’t look 100% authentic, well then nobody’s going to believe that a singing Bin Laden is actually Lincoln. IT’S A FUCKING DISASTER.

Or, more to the point, imagine you’ve got to set up an S&M themed VIP area for 50 Shades! The Musical  and figure out how to share the space with a public reading of a serious new play about a Mexican American family during the Cuban Missile Crisis named Hope. Cause that’s actually a little more ridiculous- I mean, Bin Laden and Lincoln- well they’re both tall and have beards and were shot by Americans, so it’s practically like they’re twins – whereas Hope and 50 Shades! The Musical have absolutely nothing in common. 50 Shades! is a silly, fun and extremely raunchy show performed by a sweet, earnest, fresh-faced young cast that’s singing their eager little hearts out as they rhyme every possible synonym of penis and vagina- like Deep Throat performedtyler perry as madea by the cast of Glee. And the women coming to see the show- well, let’s just say they’re fanning themselves with their programs but it’s not actually that warm in the theatre. So actually, with all the well dressed, fanning, hollering women the whole thing feels like going to Sex Church or something out of Madea’s Bachelorette Party which is hands down Tyler Perry’s filthiest film. So, yeah, totally worth seeing for a good time. And naturally, a show like this needs an S&M themed VIP room or “Red Room”- which is a reference to something in the books that I am SO PROUD TO ADMIT I DO NOT GET. And the business to sponsor the Red Room- why that could be none other than independent, locally owned sex shop Pure Delish cause when it comes to nipple clamps, I’m strictly a locavore (pretty sure it’s a Mom & Pop cause one of the owners goes by “Daddy”).  Now, I’m no naïve little blushing kitten bunny, but I had absolutely no idea Pure Delish was a sex shop- I mean, I’d been by it a million times, but I just assumed they sold cupcakes- which I still think is a totally reasonable assumption- I mean, come on, it’s Culver City for god’s sake- I see Pure Delish in this part of town- I’m thinking Red Velvet not Red Room. It was only my devotion to the Sprinkles ATM that saved me from the unbelievable awkwardness of stopping in for a sugary treat at Pure Delish and being offered Cal Seething- 031014-delishan entirely different and far more disturbing kind of sugar from Daddy which I’m pretty sure is some kinda kinky sex thing or, at least, Def Leppard seems to think so.

Anyhow, a few days before the first 50 Shades! performance we picked up the disassembled mannequins from Pure Delish using a dirty old white van (just for extra creepiness) and, let me tell you, you don’t know what it means to be thankful you’re white until you’re driving through LA in a white van full of body parts- especially cause all the mannequins were white women. When we got to the theatre, Cat, the store’s owner (I may have slightly exaggerated about Daddy #poeticlicense #itstheonlylicenseicanget) guided me and a couple of my male staff members through the process of assembling the mannequins with the infinite patience and kindness of an American Julie Andrews- if Julie Andrews was a petite dominatrix in colorful yoga pants teaching arts and crafts at a Special Needs S&M Summer Camp. Actually, I was the only Special Needs student there. Both of my staff were surprisingly adept at putting the women together from spare body parts and dressing them proactively. One of them in particular was particularly adept. Disturbingly adept. Adept in a Criminal Minds, don’t go in the crawl space, it puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again sort of way. I mean, I don’t like to judge, but he named his mannequin Gladys and I think they went to see Her together. For me, though, the whole thing was just a giant Elementary School Arts & Crafts anxiety nightmare. Like all of a sudden, I’m eight years old again, tears of frustration in my eyes, fingers all stuck together with Elmer’s glue, a pile of busted up popsicle sticks on the table in front of me glued together in every which way but the right one and all around me perfect little girls with perfect little collars up and perfect little bows in their hair and perfect little popsicle stick houses in front of them while I sit in the middle with my popsicle stick shitbox like that trashy house in the perfect suburban subdivision that everybody whispers about with the unwashed, homeschooled kids of indeterminate age and number who were never allowed to play street football with the rest of the kids but just looked out the window with the dead eyed curiosity of Russian orphans, the fleshy wife with the tired eyes and tight-lipped smile whose washed-out floral pattern bathrobe showed just enough cleavage to make her an unspoken masturbation favorite of all the neighborhood boys and the scary guy with a beard like a red-eyed angry Jesus with a beer belly and, yes, I realize I’m getting pretty far afield but if you made popsicle stick houses that were this evocative of The Virgin Suicides YOU WOULD HAVE ANXIETY NIGHTMARES ABOUT ARTS & CRAFTS PROJECTS TOO.

So, as you can expect, when it came to putting the mannequins together, I was useless. Every two minutes, I was like “Caaaaat, I can’t get the panties to stayCal Seething-031014-poppins on” “Caaaaat, why are her hands in backwards”, “Caaaaaaaat my node id caught id da nipple clampd.” And every single time, Cat would rush over with her infinite American Julie Andrews dominatrix patience and deftly rescue me singing “Just a spoonful of patience helps the nipple clamps stay on, the nipple clamps stay on, the nipple clamps stay on. Just a spoonful of patience helps the nipple clamps stay on. In the most erotic way.”

So, OK, great. Mannequins put together. Gladys looking fierce. Project done, right? Well…not exactly. We still had to hang the Pure Delish banners; set up the 50 Shades! step & repeat (that’s the thingamajig with logos you take pictures in front of at press conferences and premieres and stuff- I know, right- there’s a name for those! ) for photo opportunities; arrange the S&M paraphernalia on the table next to the 50 Shades! step & repeat including a feather, blindfold, riding crop, mask plus a wrench and a screwdriver for some reason that I pray to God I never have to know; put out the gift bags complete with commemorative tie, lube, Pure Delish postcard and women’s orgasm gel (I tried some. Amazing); and set out the decorative balloons, because everybody who loves bondage also loves balloons I think!

So, OK, great. Room is set up. Project done, right? Well…not exactly. Because right in the midst of the first weekend of performances we had that pesky public reading I was talking about earlier of the serious play about a Mexican American family during the Cuban Missile Crisis- and somehow, the director didn’t think the S&M mannequins would work for this presentation, even though he did keep trying to give Gladys his number and offered to let her read stage directions #poeticlicense. So…on Friday afternoon, before they came to rehearse, we hid the mannequins, took down the Pure Delish banners, struck the step & repeat (you feel cooler cause you know what that means right? Right? Yeah, you do.); boxed up the S&M paraphernalia including the wrench & screwdriver (I DON’T WANT TO KNOW); stashed the gift bags, popped the balloons and brought out chairs, music stands and a keyboard. Red Room becomes Reading Room- Ta Da!

Of course- after rehearsal – we had to strike the music stands, move the keyboard, put away the chairs, hang the banner, pose the mannequins, put out the step & repeat (go on- use it in a sentence. You know you want to) , set up the S&M props including the wrench and screwdriver (LALALLALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU I CAN’T HEAR YOU), set the gift bags back out, and put out the fucking balloons. Hurray fucking balloons!!

Then, Saturday, early in the morning…well I think you can guess. Banner, mannequins, step & repeat,  S&M paraphernalia, gift bags, balloons- OUT! Chairs, music stands, keyboard- IN! Serious reading about Mexican American family during the Cuban Missile Crisis GO!!

Which brings me back to that phone call to my mother, right where we started. The reading was about to end and I was tired. All I wanted to do was just restore the Red Room one more time and get the fuck out. And everything had been going so smoothly. We were practically home free. Just one more time- chairs, music stands, keyboard – OUT! Banner, mannequins, step & repeat, S&M props, gift bags and balloons…wait a second….where the fuck are the balloons??? What do you mean the new balloons haven’t been delivered yet?? How is that fucking possible??? Don’t these people know I want to go home????? How many question marks do I need to use to show just how FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE THIS IS????????????????????????????? ????????? QUESTION MARKS????????????????????????

Half an hour dragged by. I called the florist. They said the balloons were coming. They lied. Half an hour dragged by. I called the florist. I said terrible things. I screamed, I railed, I pleaded with desperation like a soldier in the Korengal valley covered in blood screaming into the radio for a Medevac while he watches his buddy bleeding to death on the hot sand only I was screaming cause the goddamn delivery of decorative balloons for my bondage themed 50 Shades VIP room was a motherfucking hour late and that shit was LIFE AND DEATH. GET ME MY FUCKING BALLOONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET SOME !!!!!!!!!GET SOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Balloons, that is.

So, anyhow, a few minutes later, the balloons arrived, we set them up and left. Everything was fine. The way it always it. Cause that’s the other thing to know about theatre- we live in a constant state of narrowly averted disaster. And you would think that would mean I would calm down and relax a little cause I know things are going to work out and, sure, that’s what a rational person would do but if I was a rational person I WOULDN’T HAVE MAJORED IN DRAAAAAAAMA.

So what’s the point? No point. What, did somebody tell you there was going to be a point? Weren’t you paying attention? Music stands go out, bondage mannequins go in, balloons show up, I go home. Cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos, cockatoos.

So how do we cope with the meaninglessness? Me, I like to attend City Council meetings. There’s nothing like taking an active role in government to remind me just how much I love theatre. At a recent Council Meeting, a local man got up with his well worn yellow Legal pad and said: “I live at the corner of ______ and __________  and for the last 20 years, I’ve been coming before you to say we need a stop light. Well, last night, the long awaited accident finally happened- and while nobody was hurt, I urge you to take action.” And the Council naturally reacted like this was a serious problem but all I could think was- “Dude, that’s great! You have one little accident every 20 years- you’ve gotta live on the safest fucking street corner in America! You don’t need a stop light- you need a plaque and a parade in your honor!” And, talk about theatre of the absurd- check out these little dialogue snippets from last night’s meeting:

“Is there a special notification list for trees?”

“That would just be the initial initiation of an initial plan”

Are you kidding me? That’s straight out of Ionesco’s Twitter feed #cockatoos. He missed his calling as a playwright- he should have just run for mayor. As for me, I’m just gonna stay back at the theatre. With Gladys. Where it’s safe. Well, relatively speaking. I still don’t know what that wrench is for- but I’ve got a sinking feeling I’m gonna be around long enough to find out. At least I don’t live in Albuquerque. I hear the mayor won’t even let them film COPS there. Now THAT’S absurd. (SHAMELESS PROMOTION ALERT.)

Cal-Seething-031014-RedRoom

 

 

 

 

 

[California Seething] – Suck it, Sochi!

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I have a bone to pick with Johnny Weir (Phrasing!) Thanks to his fabulous fashions, surprisingly thoughtful commentary and GBFCal Seething- 022414-weir (Gay Best Friend) chemistry with Tara Lipinsky (as described brilliantly by Madame HR) I can no longer tolerate regular figure skating commentators. It’s like coffee- there was a time when I could swig back anything – diner coffee, deli coffee, office coffee that’s made from pre-measured packets ordered in bulk from Staples which sits in the carafe getting hot and crusty all day like cholent on Shabbos – and has roughly the same impact on my colon, I didn’t care, I didn’t even taste it. Then Starbucks came along and all of a sudden, coffee was like this beverage with flavor that I was actually supposed to enjoy and not just some toxic sugary spew I choked down my throat ten times a day to keep myself from falling into a permanent vegetative state during my data entry job (you laugh- but I had to sign a DNR before I took that job. When the guy before me dropped, they went through his pockets for change and sold his shoes. Yeay Non Profit sector!) I was ruined! I haven’t been able to drink office coffee since. Hell, now I don’t even drink Starbucks. It’s a single-origin, shade-grown, fair-trade, home-roasted, fresh-ground, filtered-water, manual-drip mug of perfection at just the right temperature or nothing. And if you think typing all those hyphens was hard- try making the coffee- it takes me like nine fucking hours to make one cup- it’s literally the only thing in my life I’m remotely a perfectionist about. I can sit in a pile of used tissues, with my shirt buttoned wrong, my beard out of control like a superstitious hockey player on a deep playoff run, and so much cream cheese on my pants it’s like I dry-humped my bagel instead of eating it- but if the roast on my goddamn Ethiopia Sidamo is wrong I just freak the fuck out like Johnny Weir with a broken Bedazzler.  And it’s the same thing with figure skating – I used to just ignore the commentary, but after a couple mornings of sparkling wit and sparkling tiaras with Weir and Lipiniski, the prime time commentators seem like Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth in comparison and I DO NOT mean that as a compliment. I’m like a shark who’s developed a taste for human blood and now there’s no way I can go back to seals, especially when one of the seals is Sandra Bezic and she’s sitting next to Scott Hamilton spewing syrupy banalities like “she’s like a Cal Seething- 022414- primetimefigurine of a figure skater in a jewelry box but she’s so strong.” So….is that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Or….are you just super duper extra proud of the fact that you still have the exact same jewelry box that you did when you were a little girl with a Dorothy Hamil fixation and you’ve picked this particular moment to fucking humblebrag about it. And, sure, Scott Hamilton’s OK- like a 2nd favorite uncle that everyone knows is gay but no one’s allowed to say anything during those awkward moments at Thanksgiving when Nana says “So, Scotty, when are you give me some grandchildren?” which happen more and more frequently every year thanks to her creeping dementia and chronic alcoholism. And while Tom Hammond is doing remarkably well for a man who’s been completely drained of blood, all he ever does is tell us how long it’s been since random stuff happened in a really serious voice as though that’s supposed to add some fucking gravitas to the proceedings. “No Italian has won a medal in figure skating since 2002”, “This is the first time that US women have gone without a figure skating medal in consecutive Olympics since 1948”, “No American woman has touched the clammy, dead skin of my face without recoiling in horror and fleeing the room since 1986. Sigh. Hey, you guys want to hang out after the Ladies’ Final tonight? No? Oh. You got plans. That’s cool. No one has wanted to associate with me because of my unbearable personality and disturbing pallor since 2002. It gets so lonely. Sniff.”  Seriously dude, it’s like 80 degrees there- go to the ski slope and get a tan. You’re like one of those fish that lives its whole life in a cave and never sees the sun except those fish might have something interesting to say about ice skating.

Of course, Weir and Lipinski weren’t the only fabulous American pair on the ice – there were a couple of halfway decent Americans who were actually competing in the games. I’m speaking, of course, of ice dancers Meryl Davis and Charlie White. Now, usually, weCal Seething- 022414-daviswhite don’t get to see much ice dancing at the Olympics – but this year, by some totally crazy coincidence, NBC decided to show a lot more of it right when we had a couple of Americans competing for the gold. Weird, right? It’s like they were all “Fuck it. Ice Dancing. Why not? Wait- what we’ve got Americans that are good at this??? Reeeeaaaally? ! had no idea! What a coinkerdinker.” Not that I mind. I’d always rather watch something Americans are good at then watch Bjorn Olafson and Bjorn Erickson bjorning it out with each other over a 50,000 mile cross country race for the honor of blond people and a lifetime supply of reindeer meat. I’m actually proud of America for sucking at Cross Country. All that grim determination and grueling exertion- fuck that shit. That’s not the American way to win medals. No- the American way is to keep making up new crazy-ass flippy-flip snowboarding events that nobody else in the world knows how to do yet- and then, when other countries figure out how to do these events better than us, because they actually work hard and practice, we just come up with something newer and cooler and it’s like “Oh, you guys is Switzerland are still into halfpipe? That’s, like, soooo 1998. We’re all totally doing Slopestyle now.” And, you know what- that’s awesome! I mean, sure, we may not have the best conditioned athletes in the world,  and we steal all our winter sports ideas from Gleaming the Cube– but, hey- if you give a big pile of snow to a bunch of Americans, Cal Seething- 022414- gleamingwe’ll get stoned as shit and figure out how many times we can flip around in the air and we’ll call it a YOLO McTwist 420. Give snow to a bunch of Norwegians- and they’ll go very slowly in a straight line until they die. Which country would you rather be from? Now wait- don’t base your answer on quality of life, education, culture, economic stability or healthcare- just stick to winter sports coolness.

So, yeah- it’s fine to suck at Cross Country- but- I do have to admit I was a little disappointed by our Biathalon results. I mean- we’re the gun craziest country on earth- how can we be so bad at shooting? Is it just that Americans aren’t used to this type of target shooting? Would we do better if they put little hoodies on the targets? Or – maybe instead of a rifle range, we could do our shooting in a school cafeteria?

The Russians, on the other hand, are great at Biathalon, but that’s cause skiing and shooting is how they hunt gays.

The worst part about the Biathalon is that, if you screw up at shooting, you have to ski a penalty lap. That’s how much Cross Country sucks- the worst way they could think of to punish bad shooters was to make them do more Cross Country skiing. That would never work with Half Pipe- snowboarders would be missing shots on purpose. “Ooops, 0 for 5. Oh, shuckey-darn. I guess it’s 5 more runs for meeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!” But Cross Country- that’s how Norwegian parents make their kids eat their vegetables “Finish all your Brussels sprouts, Bjorn, or it’s an extra 10,000 meters before bedtime.”

Anyhow, like I was saying about Meryl Davis and Charlie White….at some point earlier today I’m sure, they dominated the Ice Dancing competition and, in the process, they reminded all of us Americans that we are so are so pathetically desperate to soak up Olympic glory that we’re even willing to learn what a “twizzle” is and why we should give a fuck what a good one looks like. We’re the ones making the real sacrifices here. Also, and I’m not ashamed to admit this, I have a total hair crush on Charlie White. The downy Wonder Bread cloud of golden curls softly flouncing about, a little bit shaggy and totally loveable like an adorable, welCal Seething- 022414- whitel           groomed sheepdog- that’s exactly what I had in mind when I grew my hair out for the first time at 15 into a pumpernickel black, unwieldy, steel wool Jew-Fro like a crackhead’s poodle.  And that would be the best my hair would get. By the time I was in my mid-20’s my hairline had already entered the Great Recession and the time had come to give up and cut it short for good. So, for me, the American Ice Dancing triumph was about more than patriotism or athletic achievement- it was about basking vicariously in the Gold Medal glow of Charlie White’s golden locks and remembering the shadows of my own Olympic caliber fantasies of fabulous hair. Because, you see, for those of us that are follicularly challenged- there are no Paralympics- so we must watch as Charlie White lives the dream for us all in Sochi, and think of what might have been….

While White and Davis fulfilled their Olympic dreams, many of the highly vaunted American athletes did not. There was Shaun White who failed to medal much to the smirking delight of every single snowboarder because they naturally hate him for all the attention, funding and opportunities he brought to their sport and also because he’s this enormous douche. Lindsey Jacobellis did a masterful impression of Llewyn Davis when she totally sabotaged her chances for success by falling in the semi-finals with a clearCal Seething- 022414-womenhockey lead for the third Olympics in a row. The U.S. Men’s Hockey team beat Russia in an early round game and gave Al Michaels a throbbing 1980 Cold War Nostalgia erection that lasted right up until they lost to Canada in the semi’s and were Finnish-ed off in the Bronze medal game. And the U.S. Women’s Hockey Team lost to Canada in heart-breaking fashion and wept so copiously as they received the Silver Medal that their coach seriously regretted joking “hey, you lose this one, you’re staying in Sochi”.

But of course, the biggest US failure was the Speed Skating Team which medaled in only one of the bazillion events they competed in. The real surprise, to me, though isn’t that we suck at Speed Skating- it’s that we were supposed to be good in the first place. I mean, I always figured that Speed Skating was one of those crazy-freaky things that’s super-important in the rest of the world but is just kind of a weird novelty here like soccer or hazelnut spread or learning science and math. It turns out we were actually coming into the Olympics favored to win a bunch of medals and ended up totally humiliating ourselves. U-S-A! Most people blamed the new Under Armour suits that the skaters wore during the Games- though they kept on losing when they switched back to their old suits….which were also made by Under Armour….so….maybe they sucked, too. In response to these Cal Seething- 022414- speedskateconcerns, the US Speedskating Association took immediate and decisive action and renewed their sponsorship contract with Under Armour for another eight years. That’ll learn ‘em! 2026 is gonna be our year! Never underestimate the power of greed to triumph over the Olympic spirit. For those that don’t get why this big contract seems foolish- just substitute “Jerry Jones” for “U.S. Speedskating Association” and “Tony Romo” for “Under Armour”. And if you still aren’t sure what I’m talking about, just think about how you felt in 2004 when we re-elected George Bush and you’ll know exactly what our Speedskaters are going through. And, yes- I am getting all worked up about Speed Skating – you got a problem with that? Winter sports to me are like Judaism and politics- I fast on Yom Kippur, vote in Presidential Elections and give a fuck about Speed Skating during the Winter Olympics. So long, Speedsuckers! Have fun with your Loser Suits. See you in 2018 in South Korea. I hope President Clinton can come to the Games!

So, yeah, the Olympics were kind of a bust for the American team- but not all hope is lost. On March 7, the Paralympics begin and, thanks to Iraq and Afghanistan, the U.S. has loads of great new Paralympians just itching to work off their PTSD on the slopes and rinks of Sochi and not on their long suffering loved ones.  Thanks, George Bush! U-S-A! U-S-A!

And that brings us to the Closing Ceremonies. The theme of the Closing Ceremonies was “a buncha people making stupid shapes on the ground and shit” Cal Seething- 022414- shapeswhich was also the same as the Opening Ceremony and the last Opening Ceremony and every Ceremony at every Olympics since they figured out how to film stuff from above (fuck you, too Busby Berkeley.) Seriously- I get it- volunteer slave labor making circles. Whoopidie-doo. But according to the organizers, the Closing Ceremonies were a tribute to Russian art, culture & literature. I meant to come up with all sorts of witty things to say about the Ceremonies, but I fell asleep, which, as far as I’m concerned, is the best way to pay tribute to Russian art, culture and literature. I did notice that many of the writers who were honored during the Ceremonies had been persecuted during their lifetimes and this got me super-psyched for the Pussy Riot Tribute Concert at the 2042 St. Petersburg Games.

As if Russian art, culture and literature weren’t bad enough- Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth were brought in to comment on the proceedings. It’s like NBC was saying “Hey loyal viewers- we want to thank for sticking with us all the way to the end of the crazy Cal Seething- 022414-almikeOlympic ride. So as a very special treat, why don’t you all go fuck yourselves?” I mean, seriously, NBC- why you gotta play me like that? Didn’t I stick with you through all of those goddamn Cadillac commercials with the asshole who talks about how Americans are sooooo great because we don’t take enough vacation time (like that’s really our fucking choice) and how we’re the ONLY ones going back up to the moon- even though we can’t afford the gas money to go there on a  Russian rocket? And didn’t I stick with you when you showed that fucking documentary about that Russian orphan swimmer girl with no legs who was adopted by a loving American family in the Baltimore suburbs and came back to Russia to meet her biological family only to realize just how UNBELIEVABLY FUCKING AMAZING LIVING IN THE SUBURBS OF BALTIMORE ACTUALLY IS? And didn’t I stick with you when you kept trying over and over and over and over again to convince me that Living with Fisher would be funny because it’s about a blind guy- when we all know that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and an enormous hunk of shit about a blind guy is still just AN ENORMOUS HUNK OF SHIT . Well, didn’t I???? And after 18 grueling emotional days together through ups and downs, triumph and defeat, good times and bad, Costas and Lauer- you give me the Michaels and Collinsworth on the final night??? Laurel and Hardly?? Tweedledee and Tweedeldipshit? I mean, I get it – I know all the good commentators got the hell out of Sochi just as fast as their little legs could carry them, and so you were totally relieved when you found Al Michaels still in Sochi, lying face down on the ice of the hockey rink in a pool of Stoli vomit and half-digested Qualuudes wearing nothing but a dickey yelling “I DON’T BELIEVE IN MIRACLES” with Cris Collinsworth sitting on the ice smiling brainlessly next to him saying “Yes, It sure has been one heck of an Olympics, Al.” so you dragged them over to the Fisht Stadium (Wait, are we not even saying “Phrasing” any more?) sat them down with Vladimir Posner who dropped such bon mots as “every country is special in its own way” which is also what he tells his autistic son when he takes all the other kids to Disneyland and subjected your loyal viewers to three hours of misery, boredom, suffering and torture. And it that doesn’t say “ a tribute Russian art, culture and literature”- I don’t know what does? Well done, NBC!

Oh yeah, there was also that enormous bear that blew out the cauldron before shedding a single tear just like Russian orphans do Cal Seething-022414-bearon their birthday when they make a wish to go to America- only much much more disturbing that that. More disturbing even than the no legged swimmer girl.

So, here I am. The Olympics are over. After two glorious weeks of avoiding reality with high flying Olympic competition, it’s time to come back down to earth and avoid reality using regular television – which is not nearly as fun. I’m watching Speed for God’s sake- which is like Gravity on the bus. And, sure, it’s the best movie ever made about the perils of public transport in Los Angeles that wasn’t produced by concerned parents in Beverly Hills (if you haven’t seen this-watch it now) but it can’t compare to the glorious bubble of unreality that can only be experienced by obsessively watching a long running athletic tournament at all hours of the day and night. Between Kiev, Venezuela and Arizona (Jan Brewer only vetoed that bill because there’s no religious objection to serving Mexicans) all I can say is- MARCH MADNESS IS ONLY THREE WEEKS AWAY! Thank fucking God. I was this close to knowing what’s going on in the world. Phew!

[Parrot News]- The Pope, The Porn Star and The Parrot

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So, there I was, scrolling through my Parrot Google News update past all the Jimmy Buffet fan articles and articles about snowboarder Max Parrot (actually pronounced “Perro” and should rhyme with “French Canadian asshole”), and I come across this article from Fox News about Pope Awesomesauce the First blessing a parrot. So I click on it, and most of the article is about the animal rights activists that are protesting the release of doves from the Vatican window as a symbol of peace. Evidently, the doves Parrot News- 021814- dovesare domesticated and can’t survive in the wild and so two doves were killed by a crow and a seagull as soon as they were released. And I guess they’re all bent out of shape cause in one gory moment, an innocent symbol of peace and goodwill turned into a complicated lesson about martyrdom and a grim allegorical warning for aspiring peacemakers about the grisly death they will most certainly face- but hey- martyrdom- there’s nothing more Catholic than martyrdom! Who doesn’t love being a martyr? Apparently, not the doves. And, let’s be clear, it’s NOT FUNNY AT ALL. NOT ONE BIT.  “Fly, innocent dove of peace, fly free and spread your message of OH MY GOD NO!!!!” SHREEK SHREEK SHREEK. CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP. BURP. Sorry about that. NOT FUNNY AT ALL.

Roger Ailes, meanwhile, was so moved by the story of the crow killing the dove that he’s considering making it the new logo for Fox News. Can you blame him? What other image more perfectly epitomizes Fox News’ core values of “Fuck peace” and “The black man is coming for our women”?

Anyhow, I’m reading this article, and I get to the bottom and see that the Pope blessed a parrot named Amore owned by a fellow named Francesco Lombardi. OK, great, hippie-dippie pope blesses parrot. Cute. Maybe some lame St. Frances joke and that’s Vatican Pope Birdsabout it. As I was reading more about the incident, though it became clear that Mr. Lombardi is a porn star and self proclaimed “world champion stripper” (he’s actually ranked 12th). Seriously, Fox News??? How did you leave that out?? It’s one thing to bury the lead- but you’re putting cement on its feet and throwing it into the East River. You’re chopping it up into pieces and stashing it in separate dumpsters all around town and I’m not just using these analogies because this story is in Italy and I’m trying to make some cheap Italian-mafia joke, but, hey, if the spicey meat-a-ball fits… Listen, Fox News, You want to report on the Pope kissing a Porn Star’s Parrot- you don’t lead with some bullshit wussy headline like “Animal rights activists ask Pope Francis to stop releasing doves” – you’ve got to do it like this or like this or like this or like this or like this. I mean, come on, Fox News- get your shit together. I know the Obama years have been rough on you, but I don’t know that I’m ready to live in a world where the Huffington Post has to teach Fox News how to be sleazy. It’s like Hilary Clinton teaching Karl Rove about racist smear campaigns.

Alright, so it turns out that after the Pope’s dove release scandal (Dovegate? Doveghazi? Hey- Fox News- a little help here) he saw the parrot in the crowd while he was cruising around St. Peter’s Square in the Popemobile looking for something to kiss, so he decided to bless the parrot. You know, so he doesn’t seem like such a heartless bird killer. He didn’t know that the parrot, named Amore, was owned by Lombardi, who’s stripper name is Ghyblj. Seriously, dude? You name your parrot “Amore” but you call yourself “Ghyblj”??? And you call yourself a “world Parrot News- 021814champion.” Have you never heard of the “first pet – first street” porn star name game? You could be Sparky Maplewood or Rusty Sepulveda or Rodolfo Via Veneto I guess since you’re Italian, whatever, – anything would be better than Ghyblj. How is the DJ at the club supposed to even say that? “And coming to the stage next we have…uhm…Geeh…Gibil….wait I got it….Dickface. Give it up for Dickface.”

So, right, anyhow- Ghyblj or Lombardo or whatever the hell his name is was deeply moved by the fact that the Pope blessed Amore because evidently he’s “in love” with the Pope. And, Pope Francis (who insists they are just friends) was able to put his bird killing scandal (Monica Doveinski? Come on, Fox News I’M GETTING NOTHING, HERE) behind him because if there’s one thing the Italians love more than birds, it’s porn stars (Prime Minister Ghyblj? You’d better believe it). And what could be a better symbol of peace and tolerance than a Pope, a porn star and a parrot named “Love”. Now THAT’S Amore.

[California Seething] So…Yeah…Sochi

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Look, I’ve never been to Russia. For Jews, Russia isn’t a place we go to, it’s a place we flee from. All I know is that when I read all the crazy stories coming from Sochi about nightmarish accommodations where the only thing that works right is the camera in the shower , I want to build a time machine, go back to 1921 and give my great grandmother a great bigCal Seething-021014-water sloppy kiss and a box of See’s Candy for getting the fuck out of that godforsaken shithole of a country with it’s unique brand of cold, misery, drunkenness, feral dogs, violence, repression, xenophobia, homophobia, corruption, incompetence, Pogroms and ballet and making her way to Troy, NY….with it’s unique brand of cold, misery, drunkenness, repression, corruption, incompetence- but…no Pogroms- so, you, know, baby steps (no ballet either). Just think about that for a second- Troy was a BETTER alternative to Russia- do you know how few things Troy is better than? You can’t even make a Jeopardy category out of it- pretty much just Russia, suffocating to death in an abandoned fridge, and Utica. Even Worcester and chlamydia don’t make the cut (don’t get cocky, Worcester- you’ve got a long way to go to catch up with bacne.)

So, naturally I was a little concerned when I was chosen to cover the Olympics for Been & Going but then I remembered that we have no money, so I would just be covering the Olympics from the couch. Which means, on the bright side, I won’t get pink eye from a Soviet Cal Seething-021014-costasera jizz covered pillowcase like Bob Costas, but if my tap water does look like piss, I can’t blame Putin. (SOCHI DRINKING GAME: Do a shot of vodka every time Putin is shown or mentioned. Then vomit prodigiously after the first hour of prime time coverage- not from the vodka but because he’s such a sickening piece of shit. Also cause of the vodka.)

Those of us that grew up during the Cold War were made to believe that Russia was a terrible place because of Communism. But now that the Cold War has been over for more than 20 years (can you believe it? Almost all the Olympic athletes were born after it ended. Isn’t that great? I love kids from the 90’s – they make kids from the 80’s feel bad about themselves) it is clear that Communism was never really the problem. In fact, it’s quite the opposite- Communism was a perfectly good political philosophy that was totally ruined by when the Russians co-opted it- the way Grunge was ruined by frat boys and Facebook was ruined by Moms.

But all that Communism stuff is in the past. This is New Russia, the Strong Russia, Putin’s Russia (SHOT!). A Russia that honors its hateful past while marching bravely to a hateful future. And to honor Russia’s history and culture Putin invited the Cossacks to assist with Cal Seething-021014-cossacksecurity at the Games. The Cossacks, for those that don’t know, are a proud warrior caste with a long and distinguished history of wearing huge hats and killing Jews- and they’re damn good at it! For centuries, nobody killed Jews like the Cossacks. If Hitler is the Michael Jordan of killing Jews, these guys are Doctor J. It’s like bringing in the Klan to honor Southern history and culture . Don’t get me wrong- I don’t mean to suggest that Putin is going after Jews. I mean, I’m sure he would if he could find any, but he’s found it a lot easier to go after LGBTQ (did I get all the letters?) individuals- a strategy he refers to as “beating the low hanging fruit”. So one unintended upside of having the Olympics in Sochi is that there may be much more awareness of the horrendous human rights abuses taking place in Russia. After all, if SportsCenter is having a conversation about Equality and it doesn’t have to do with how competitive the NFC West is, then that can’t be a bad thing.

Also, it’s a great opportunity for protest. Like snowboarder Alex Sobolev who openly displayed an illustration of a woman in a ski mask on the bottom of his board after competing- clearly as a tribute to Pussy Riot. I got to tell you, this really Cal Seething-021014-sobolevmakes it clear what a gigantic chicken Shawn White is for pulling out of the Slopestyle event cause the course was too tough. I mean, Sobolev is not only taking on the course- he’s taking on the wrath of a ruthless dictator while little Shawney Whitey-poo won’t even snowboard on the mean old Slopestyle course cause he’s afraid that his precious little haircut will get messed up by a catastrophic brain injury– wah-wah-wah…cue Arrested Development style chicken dance….now. Still- I hope that the course claims Sobolev before Putin gets his hands on him. That Olympic cauldron is fueled with stray dogs and the bones of athletes who thought they had something to say. (UPDATE: The board’s designers have announced that the image of the woman in the ski mask was not inspired by Pussy Riot and any resemblance is strictly coincidental much to the disappointment of bloodthirsty Cossacks and wild dogs looking forward to having snowboarder for dinner.)

Anyhow, I know that many of you aren’t watching the Olympics due to politics or apathy or because you’re reading this column right now and thinking CRAP! I totally forgot the Olympics were on! So, for all of you and also those that are actually watching the Games- here’s my first installment from Sochi- a recap of the Opening Ceremonies. Now, for those of you that followed my Epic Live Blog of the event- don’t worry – there’s lots of new stuff, too! But if you do happen to come across a joke that you’ve seen before, I ask that you please laugh again because I’m incredibly needy. You can make a drinking game out of it and do a shot of vodka after each joke you’ve heard already. Hopefully you won’t get violently ill after the first paragraph, not just because of the vodka but because I’m such a sickening hack.

Cal Seething-021014-ringfail

This was the first fail of the Sochi games. Well, second if you include “being in Sochi”. Or, third, I suppose, if you include choosing “Hot. Cool. Yours” as the slogan. I thought the Russians were against gay propaganda? Anyhow, it was the first fail of the Opening Ceremonies- although in Russia, they didn’t actually show the gaffe- choosing instead to show rehearsal footage where the snowflakes all transformed perfectly- which means that the children of the “Snowflake Technician” will never know why Daddy didn’t come home from the Olympics the day before their house burned down. They were so proud of him. They made construction paper cards and everything.

?Hero girl? at Sochi Winter Games opening ceremony?Hero girl? at Sochi Winter Games opening ceremonyCal Seething- 021014- girl

?Hero girl? at Sochi Winter Games opening ceremony

Look- it’s an innocent young Russian girl about to be sold into white slavery  (SHOT!) This is just Putin’s way of teasing childless Americans with all the beautiful blond children they can’t get any more. What a dick- it’s like eating ice cream in front of a diabetic. I mean he’s quite literally dangling her right in front of us – he might as well be saying “Ooooh, look Americans. It’s a gorgeous blue eyed little white girl- want to adopt?? PSYCH! No white baby for you. Oh, boo-hoo, does that make you sad? Here is quarter, call China.” Not that I can blame Putin- who knows what sort of Western evils children may be exposed to in America while they are being raised by parents who love and nurture them and would do anything to give them a better life. Much safer to leave them in orphanages where they can be emotionally and physically abused in the traditional Russian way (SPOILER ALERT: The Russians don’t always love their children, too #sorrysting)

Cal Seething- 021014-chorus

Wow! The Gay Men’s Chorus is really rockin’ that Russian anthem. Who’s Hot, who’s Cool and who’s Yours? MEOW. (SHOT!)

This is not to be confused with the Russian Police Chorus whose performance of Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” has charmed the world in a patronizing cat-video “oooh look, they think they’re people” sort of way. Cal Seething- 021414-getluckyBut, fair enough, I get it, those Russian policemen are totes adorbs right up until they scream “faggot” and crack open your skull with a stick.

Cal Seething- 021014-mcdonalds

Time for a quick word of thanks to the four most important Olympic sponsors- Coke, McDonald’s, Greed and Irony. If you’ve had a Coke in the last 86 years, then you’re part of the Olympic Dream and Michelle Obama’s worst nightmares.

Cal Seething- 021014-parade

Oh boy- it’s the Parade of Nations- and remember, they’re going to enter in the order of the Cyrillic alphabet. Oh Russia, you’re so cute. You’re attitude towards gays is as backwards as your “R”s (SHOT!)

Cal Seething- 021014-womaninwhite

Hey Sochi, the future called, they want their hookers back. (SHOT!)

2014 Winter Olympic Games - Opening Ceremony

Look- it’s Israel- go Israel go! No, seriously, go, get the hell out – they have Cossacks doing security for God’s sake- RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE. (SHOT! This is starting to get embarrassing.)

And- right after Israel, we’ve got Iran. Bob Costas (or Matt Lauer- who can tell?) was a little snarky about this- suggesting that Israelis and Iranians can’t get along when they’re in close proximity. Clearly Bob Costas hasn’t been to Beverly Hills recently. I mean, hey- the Beverly Center’s not knee deep in blood so they should be able to stand next to each other in line for a few minutes peacefully, as long as they don’t run out of baba ghanoush on the craft services table.

2014 Winter Olympic Games - Opening CeremonyCal Seething- 021014- bermuda

Seriously, Bermuda- put some fucking pants on. Grow up already. You look like the cast of Richie Rich: The Musical (AMERICAN CHOPPER Fans: substitute Mikey Tuttle: The Musical. It’s actually funnier.)

Cal Seething-021014-nepal

Seriously, Nepal, get a real flag. You’re like the girl who wore the tu-tu on her first day of kindergarten. I know everybody made a oood and ahhhed and said how adorable it was, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to keep wearing it every day til you’re in fifth grade and  it’s all torn and covered in chocolate stains and the teachers want to put you in Special Ed. It’s like your 11th Olympics already, Nepal. You’re a big girl country now, get a big girl flag.

Olympics: Opening Ceremony

Seriously Putin, would it kill you to fucking smile? You look like $1 billion went into the Olympics and the other $50 billion is shoved up your ass. (SHOT!- cause of Putin and the joke you’ve heard. So- 2 SHOTS!) I know, I know, it sucks seeing all these countries walk in that should just be part of the USSR. I get it- I wish the Parade of Nations were shorter too. At least I can watch House Hunters when this gets boring while you’re stuck there having to clap for Kyrgyzstan. And, yeah, I don’t want to live in a world where I have to spell Kyrgyzstan either- but come, on it’s not so bad. You can still exert your will and crush their democracies when they try and join the E.U. Come on, who’s a happy dictator? Who’s a happy dictator??Cal Seething-021014-putinsmileThere you go! Now that wasn’t so bad was it?

Cal Seething-021014-jamaica

Look- the Jamaican Bobsled Team is back! They couldn’t make it for the last two Olympics, but they weren’t gonna miss this one, cause they heard the guys from Colorado has some primo shit. You know, a lot of people have been saying that the Winter Olympics unfairly favors small, white European nations way out of proportion to their actual population or importance in today’s world, but I actually think it’s better to be from a country with no winter sports tradition, since you can be terrible at your event and still totally make it to the Olympics cause you’re the only one who does it. Just ask Mongolia’s top figure skater, this guy:Cal Seething- 021014-mongoliaDoesn’t look like much, but he’s the goddamn Gracie Gold of Ulan Bator. I mean, If you’re a Norwegian cross country skier and you don’t medal- you’re derided in the press and publically ridiculed – but all this Mongolian guy has to do is carry a flag in his underpants and he’s a goddamn inspirational Olympic hero.

Plus- have you been to Norway in winter? Cross Country skiing is all they have to live for. When Norway didn’t medal in 2010, they were pulling white people out of fjords until the middle of August- which is like two weeks longer than usual.

Speaking of Olympians from small countries- here’s my favorite Tongan luger Bruno Banani.

Cal Seething- 021014- bruno

Banani, who was born Fuahea Semi but changed his name 8 years ago to match his sponsor, German underwear manufacturer Bruno Banani. Can you imagine such crass, vulgar commercialism at the Olympics? Bob Costas certainly gave him a piece of his mind during the Subway Fresh Talk Minute. I would love to get on the condemnation train, but I would change my name to Calvin Klein in a second for a $200 donation to Been & Going and a pair of husky sized boxer briefs. Not that Calvin Klein is banging down my door exactly. I wonder who made those undies for the Mongolian team? Blue is totally my color.

Cal Seething- 021014- USA

U-S-A! U-S-A! Better not dip that flag! Unlike every other country in the world, the U.S. hasn’t dipped our flag in salute to the home country’s ruler since 1932- also, the first year we were elected “Douchiest Olympians” by the rest of the world (still undefeated!). Personally, I think it’s great- fuck the world! It’s chest pounding, eagle flying, unabashed jingoism time- hell, that’s what the Olympics are all about! It’s the only time we get to shamelessly kick other country’s butts without having to feel bad or worry about building democracy afterwards.

Cal Seething- 021014- russia

Thank god. The Russian team. Finally someone I can shamelessly boo. Boo, Ruskies, booo! Go back to Russia…oh wait. Also, this means the Parade of Nations is over- and it’s about damn time. Now I know how the Russians used to feel when they waited in line for bread. And aren’t things so much better there now that they have no bread at all?

Cal Seething- 021014-stbasil

OK, so this part is a celebration of Russia’s history. See- that’s St. Basil’s Cathedral- and according to Matt Lauer (or is it Bob Costas?) “St. Basil’s Cathedral was built by Ivan the Terrible, who poked out the architect’s eyes so it could never be repeated.” Let’s be clear, folks,- this is the feel good part of the show. (SHOT!)

2014 Winter Olympic Games - Opening Ceremony

Now we come to one of the most beautiful parts of the night. The extremely lengthy ballet sequence inspired by War and Peace. This is a stirring reminder of Russia’s contributions to the arts. The music of Tchaikovsky, the films of Eisentstein, the ballet of Diaghilev – so many of the world’s unbelievably boring masterworks were given to us by Russian homosexuals. Is it any wonder they fought a revolution? This was the entertainment of the times. I would start a revolution, too just to get out of sitting through another fucking Swan Lake. Hell, I went to see The Cherry Orchard and almost burned the theatre down at intermission just so I could get them to STOP WHINING AND SELL THE FUCKING ORCHARD. SELL IT SELL IT SELL IT SELL IT SELL IT SELL IT SELL IT!!!!!! You’re broke, you’re desperate, the summer cottage people are gonna give you top Ruble and I just want to go home so shut your fucking borscht hole already and SELL THE GODDAMN ORCHARD!!!!!! God, I hate Chekhov. Unless you’re talking about the navigator on Star Trek, I want nothing to do with him.

Of course, as the Opening Ceremonies taught us, there was no Revolution in Russia- just a peaceful transition into an era of industrialization and growth- followed, of course, by the wild and crazy rock n’ roll years of the swingin’ Stalinist 50’s- see:

Cal Seething-021014-1950s

Gotta love these ceremonies. They took Battleship Potemkin and remade it into Bye, Bye Birdie. It’s like Russia’s applying for its place in the modern world with the most bullshit resume ever. Now I don’t feel so bad about exaggerating my JavaScript skills and saying I speak French. At least I didn’t TOTALLY FALSIFY ALL OF MY EXPERIENCE IN THE 20TH CENTURY (just parts of the 90’s).

Of course, Russians weren’t the only ones engaging in a little bit of revisionism. NBC did it’s part by cutting the anti-discrimination statement out of IOC Thomas Bach’s speech because Russia promised to give Bob Costas his real eye drops back.

International Olympic Committee President Thomas Bach speaks during the opening ceremony of the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics

Now there are those that are cynically saying this omission was political- but those people are showing no respect for NBC’s proud and storied legacy of bungling incompetence at the Olympics. Personally, I prefer to believe that this omission was not the result of censorship and repression but rather corporate greed, terrible decision making and mind boggling incompetence. But then again, I’m an optimist.

Well, there you have it. Despite all the apprehension, The Opening Ceremonies went off almost without a hitch much to the disappointment of millions including myself.  For the next two weeks, we’ll enjoy skating, skiing and the dulcet tones of Mary Carillo’s disturbingly masculine voice as she travels through Russia looking for stuff to film that will make it seem less hateful to us. Yeah, good luck with that, Mary. As for me, I’m looking forward to enjoying the Olympics from the comfort of my couch where the only dog is mine and he sure as hell ain’t wild (unless you count “fuzzy lump on the floor” as “being wild”) and I don’t have to share a toilet stall (so nice of the Russian Olympic Committee to hire Larry Craig as a consultant). Stay tuned for a complete Olympic recap in my next post  (plus some other stuff)- meanwhile, as Putin’s girlfriend said “who do I have to fuck to light the Olympic cauldron around here?” (SHOT! Ugh- I don’t feel so good).

GTY 467610713 I SPO OLY ACE ENT RUS

[Parrot News]- Sorry, Your Parrot Doesn’t Count as a Licensed Driver

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Like most gods, the Gods of Parrot News are sometimes benevolent and sometimes cruel. Fortunately, this past week, they have chosen to be kind and to rain fantastic parrot stories upon me- which sort of makes up for the fact that the California Rain Gods have completely abandoned us. I mean, sure, the lack of rain in California threatens the water supply of the 38 million people who live here and could potentially undermine the 12th largest economy in the world, while the bonanza of parrot news stories really Parrot News- 020414- maxjust benefits me and the seven people who read this fucking blog- five of which are X-Games fans who thought this was a fan site for snowboarder Max Parrot. Have you seen the X-Games by the way? It’s crazy! It’s like ESPN made a whole pseudo-Olympics out of stuff my mother never let me do. All they need to do is add “going outside with no coat”, “walking home under a bridge in the dark” and “smoking weed in the basement” and it would be perfect.  Anyhow, my point is that everything all balances out and there were some great parrot stories. Here’s one that particularly spoke to me:

A woman in Yorkshire was pulled over on the M62 (freaky British freeway). The Bobbies (freaky British police) discovered that she had only a “provisional license” (freaky British Learner’s Permit) and that there was no licensed driver in the car with her, as is required by law, only her pet parrot who did not even have a Driver’s License.  The Bobbies then proceeded to Tweet out a picture of the parrot with a  warning that parrots are “NOT AUTHORIZED TO SUPERVISE LEARNER DRIVERS” and this sort of behavior would not be tolerated. I’m sure that ALL of the Provisional License holding parrot owners who follow the West Yorkshire police on Twitter are quaking in their trainers (freaky British sneakers. Sketchers, probably. With, like heels and shit. Seriously, what is wrong with those people?) I know I’m certainly grateful for them for Tweeting this, cause when I first saw this article, I thought “Of course! It’s perfect! Why haven’t I thought of this before?? I don’t need a Driver’s License – I just need a parrot who can ride around with me at all times. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this idea whatsoever!” So thank God the West Yorkshire Police set me straight or my parrot and I would have been in hot water and nobody likes parrot soup. Not even the British.

 

Now I know all of you “Driver’s License” having people are probably getting a good laugh at this poor woman’s expense. Don’t deny it! I can see you there- sitting back smugly in a smoking jacket, glass of Congac in one hand, steering wheel in the other, just tittering away at the stupidity:

“Titter-titter-titter- Why what kind of idiot would posssssibly think it was acceptable to drive with a parrot and a Learner’s Permit? Titter-titter-titter- Oh- wait- I’ll tell you what kind of idiot- the kind who doesn’t have a Driver’s License. Titter-titter-titter. Titter-titter-titter.  Titter-titter-titter WHOA!!! Sorry!! That was close. I almost spilled my Cognac. Titter-titter-titter.”

Me, though, I’m a lot more sympathetic to this woman. As the holder of numerous Loser’s Permits over the years (the permit is good for one year only. If you don’t get your license during that time and want to renew, you simply need to take a written test consisting of 20 multiple choice questions and a 500 word essay on the subject of “No, seriously dude, what is you FUCKING PROBLEM??”) I understand what she was going through that night. Just picture it- you’re home alone with your parrot. You’ve had the same conversation over and over and over again and now you’re seriously getting on each others’ nerves (you can substitute “parent” for “parrot” if that helps). There’s a party up in Ripon or Trent or one of the other towns that Branson’s always going off to so he can meet the new Pig Man and catch Rose kissing a black guy and it’s right up the M62 from your house and you could be there in like 10 minutes but there’s no one around to give you a ride. And you’ve got a perfectly good car at your disposal which you can TOTALLY almost sort-of drive but there’s not a licensed driver around who can ride with you so what are you supposed to do??? Go through the whole “who’s a pretty girl routine?” for the 10,000th time with Polly – or grab the keys, shove Polly’s cage in the front seat and ride up the M62 for freedom! And by “freedom” of course, we mean room temperature beer and blood pudding. England sucks.

So, I think you’ll agree with me that her actions were totally justifiable. The only thing I would just question- and I’m just clarifying here- not correcting- is why did she bring a parrot? Did she think that if the police pulled her over they would just be like “well, on the one hand, she’s an unlicensed driver putting other drivers at risk on the motorway by driving illegally on the motorway with a parrot instead of a licensed driver as required by law. On the other hand I LOVE PARROTS! Who’s a pretty girl? Who’s a pretty girl? Let’s just let her go”.

Or –maybe she’s just one of those crazy people who bring a parrot with them everywhere they go. Which I’m starting to learn from Parrot News happens a whole lot more often than you might think. The worst part is, she’s still going to get her fucking Driver’s License before me. CRAP! I’ve got to get that parrot.

EricSims-Parrot2

Read the article: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jan/28/pet-parrot-passenger-m62-learner-driver

[California Seething]- California Whine Tasting

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At some point in January shit got real. After spending most of November and December walking around in a Peppermint Gingerbread LatteCal Seething-012014-Latte daze saying “We’ll just take care of that after the holidays. We’ll deal with that after the new year”, we woke up abruptly one day to discover that Gingerbread Lattes were gone, the date on the calendar was 2014 and the time to take care of stuff was NOW. Plus there was all sorts of crazy stuff going on in LA in January. Hell, in one week we celebrated the 20th anniversary of the Northridge earthquake by lighting Glendora on fire and announced the Academy Award nominations. And brother, if you think Glendora’s on fire- you should see American Hustle– 10 nominations! (our thoughts and prayers go out to all the victims of all the disasters anytime anywhere blah blah blah blah)

Plus, we had the Golden Globes and watched the Foreign Press present a Lifetime Achievement Award to Woody Allen. This reignited the 20 year old debate about whether Woody Allen is, like, a MOLESTER molester or just kinda molester-y. Personally, I wasn’t really interested in debating whether the Hollywood Foreign Press should have given an award to a man about whom the best thing you can say is “He would NEVER have sex with his child before she turns 18”. Seriously- you’re expecting moral considerations from a bunch of Europeans? That’s like getting worked up over R. Kelley getting a lifetime achievement award from NAMBLA. I was, though, outraged by the fact that he didn’t bother to actually show up and accept the award. For someone as needy, insecure and recognition-starved as me that’s totally mind blowing. I can’t imagine passing up a chance to get an award, hell the Nazi party could give me an award for Stereotype of the Year, and I would show up to accept with a big hook nose, sack full of money and bottle of Passover wine made from Christian blood.

At least he had Dianne Keaton to drunkenly accept the award for him while wearing a shirt and tie and looking like Granny Hall in an Annie Hall Halloween costume. Keaton reminded us that Allen has worked with 179 of our Finest Actresses (180 total when you count Christina Ricci) and that he only fucked one of their daughters. So, statistically speaking, he’s barely a pervert at all! Give that man a trophy! No, seriously, give it to him, he’s a genius. The only reason to deny him the award is Curse of the Jade Scorpion– and possibly Celebrity.

Anyhow, after such an exciting week and crazy start to the year, we needed to get away for a mid-January break so we decided to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day by wine tasting in Santa Barbara County because nothing says “we’re honoring the legacy of aCal Seething- 012014- MLK great Civil Rights leader” like sipping Viognier in the countryside with a whole bunch of people who unironically tie sweaters around their necks. #ivebeentothemountaintop #theyhadgreatpinot

If you’ve never gone wine tasting in California, it’s one of the most disgustingly delightful things you could possibly do. Just picture it- it’s a 78 degree day (the Pleasantness Vortex is killing us out here- and it’s gonna get even worse when Mid-Winter Balminess Ernie strikes), the sun is shining, the rolling hills are….rolling, and all you have to do is taste wine, talk about wine, buy wine then find another winery and do it again. Find me the religion that guarantees this is what heaven is like, and I’ll convert in a second. Best. Near Death Experience. Ever (You’re in a tunnel, there’s a bright light, you walk towards it, a beautiful voice beckons to you saying “You can pick 5 wines from our regular tasting list for $10 or add three Reserve wines for $15. Tasting is free if you join the club…join the club…join the club…it’s not your time to join the club”) And aside from the sheer sensory delight of drinking some of the world’s best wine in some of the world’s best weather with some of the world’s best scenery, it’s the only socially acceptable ways to be drunk before noon when you’re older than 22 aside from Sunday brunch, watching World Cup Soccer and talking to your parents about their will.

We stayed in Solvang. With its windmills, quaint architecture and liberal use of the letter Ø, Solvang is the perfect little Danish Cal Seething- 012014- solvangtown- especially because it’s not in fucking Denmark but in beautiful Santa Barbara County instead- so what you lose in free health care, you make up for in palm trees. It’s kind of like somebody decided to stage Hamlet in southern California but forgot to tell the Set Designer until it was much too late and then was like, fuck it, good enough. It’s like a town in Denmark from the creators of the Bacon Bowl and Pajama Jeans:

Narrator: You love visiting Denmark but it’s always so cold (black and white – All American family in Hawaiian shirts and shorts shivering in the snow in Copenhagen)

Narrator: And the airfares are always so expensive (mother and father looking very gravely at a computer screen with extremely expensive airfares. )

Narrator: And then, when you get there- nobody speaks English- just try ordering lunch at a restaurant (All American family at restaurant trying to communicate with a waitress in traditional Danish garb. Waitress shakes her head and shrugs.)

Narrator: Don’t you wish there was a better way to go to Denmark? (Family looks at camera and nods “yes”.) Well now you can! From the people who brought you Chia Obama and Perfect Fit Button Jeans it’s SOLVANG! (suddenly everything is in color, family is in beautiful sunny Solvang looking happy and surprised)

Narrator: Just three hours from Los Angeles with an average temperature of 60 degrees, it’s the perfect way enjoy to enjoy Denmark without all the hassle and expense of going to Denmark. And the best part of all – everybody speaks English (family laughing and joking with English speaking American waitress in traditional Danish garb) or Spanish (Latino family laughing and joking with Latino waitress in traditional Danish garb). So say goodbye to overpriced airfares and snow and say Ola to Solvang!

Latino Family & Waitress: Ola Solvang!

So, ok, sure- maybe Solvang isn’t exactly authentic- not so much Danish as Dane-ish- but it’s still a great place to stay if you’re going wine tasting. With its two star motels, many smorgasbords and plentiful souvenir shops it’s got everything the traveler with low standards could possibly dream of.  But, of course, the best part is the proximity to all the wonderful wineries of Santa Barbara County and the many tasting rooms in Los Olivos (Spanish for “oh, those olives”.) Never been wine tasting? Well, here’s what you can expect on a typical day out:

Winery #1- Tentative First Steps “Uhm, yeah, I like the smell of this wine. It’s…uhm…good. And the taste is….good, too. This wine is…you know….good? Maybe I’ll Cal Seething- 012014- tastingstop back by later and buy a bottle”

Winery #2Building Confidence “Yeah yeah- I totally taste agree with the winemaker about the floral nose but there’s a hint of lemongrass as well and I’m definitely tasting the honeydew melon and lychee fruit although I would say there’s a strong grapefruit flavor and a touch of pineapple on the finish. Was this aged in steel or oak? I’ll take five bottles. What else you got?”

Winery #3Exuberance “OH MY GOD THIS IS SO AMAZING. I love this Syrah. This is like the best Syrah I’ve ever had- I’m totally getting a case of that. Cal Seething- 012014- drunkAnd that Grenache is totally fantastic, too- I’ve gotta get a case of that. Plus two cases of the Almond Champagne. And, hell yeah, I’ll join the wine club! Four bottles – twice a month? That’s perfect! This is the greatest place I’ve ever been in my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.

Lunch break- Picnic at Winery #3 featuring Bottle of Wine and More Exhuberance “OH MY GOD THIS IS SO AMAZING. I can’t believe how good this sandwich is. It’s like the creaminess of the peanut butter just collides with the sweetness of the jelly and it’s a total flavor explosion.  And who knew Pinot Noir went so well with Goober Grape???? And these Oscar Mayer Lunchables. PERFECTION. This is the greatest lunch I’ve ever eaten in my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.

Wineries #4 – #7- Blur When you get home, you might ask yourself “when did I buy this fucking bottle of Port?” Winery #6, my friend. Winery #6.

Winery #8- Nap timeCal Seething- 012014-homersleep If you love 5 PM hangovers- you’ll love wine tasting! So that’s the rundown of the day- but what about the tasting itself? Well, here are some helpful tips that will let you make the most of your tasting experience. Remember, though- wine tasting is extremely subjective. There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to taste wine. These are just things you can use so you don’t look like such a retard out there:

The Swirl: Don’t worry, it’s totally ok to drink your wine without swirling it while you’re out wine tasting. I mean, you’re already wearing thatCal Seething- 012014- moustacheline tobacco juice stained wife beater, rainbow suspenders and trucker hat offering “25 cent Mustache Rides” so why not compete the impression by guzzling down your wine like a hog at a trough without swirling it? Look, not swirling is fine when you do your guest spot on Moonshiners but when you’re tasting- that wine better be swirling around like American culture going down the drain (because everyone’s watching Moonshiners.) It’s very simple. Just grab the glass by the stem and move it in a circle and the wine will slosh around accordingly. Keep doing this until the wine is fully aerated and everybody has noticed that you’re swirling. And don’t hold back- you simply can’t swirl too vigorously! Unless of course, hypothetically you have a particularly full glass and…oh, I don’t know…let’s say you’re standing next to your wife…at a really fancy winery event….and you swirl really vigorously. And…uhm….well it wouldn’t be good. Hypothetically of course.

The Smell: OK- so you’ve swirled- it is time to drink yet? NO! First you’ve got to smell it. Now,  you might think you know all about smelling things before you drink them but you can’t just shove the wine under your spouse’s nose and say “smell that” like you do with lumpy milk. No, smelling wine is something you’ve gotta do yourself- so what you want to do is raise up the glass (BONUS POINTS: Tilt the glass sideways when you lift the glass, look at the color and nod appreciatively at the fact that it is, in fact, wine colored and not fluorescent blue or polka dotted, which, just so you’re clear, would NOT be as good. Now-do you have to do this? No. But did DaVinci have to paint the Mona Lisa with a cryptic and unknowable smile that is still debated centuries later? Did Axl Rose have to sing the last “child” as “Chi-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ya-ild?” Did Richard Sherman have to trash talk Michael Crabtree after winning the NFC Championship? Actually not. Not at all. It was tasteless, selfish and inappropriate and the fact that I criticize him clearly makes me a racist cause apparently in 2014 bad sportsmanship is a goddamn Civil Rights issue. Come on people, I love liberal outrage as much as the next guilt ridden white guy- but why can’t we get pissed off about the right stuff any more? Rome is burning here and we’re protesting that Nero isn’t playing enough songs by minority writers.) stick your nose deep Cal Seething- 012014-grouchoinside like Groucho Marx performing cunnilingus on Margaret Dumont (Duck Soup- Director’s Cut- see it) and breathe in the scent. Then say a bunch of shit about fruit and flowers- only do it with confidence so that nobody questions you. It’s better if you refer to things that nobody has actually ever smelled. Seriously- do you know what lychee smells like? Of course you don’t – nobody does- that’s why it’s the perfect wine thing to say. Remember- wine tasting is like porn- everybody’s faking it- so just make it sound good.

The Taste: This is the best part. You’re gonna want to enjoy this. Remember- you don’t need to slug it down like tequila or brace for impact like Manischewitz. This isn’t some Concord Grape Blackberry Flavored Kosher Diabetic Baby Vomit or Almaden White Zin in a box-  this is the good stuff- an explosion of flavors and textures and smells. Comparing crappy wine to good wine is like comparing Kool Aid to Kool Aid made from rainbows and ground up unicorn bones (only less earthy and more fruit forward than that, with a lychee and honeysuckle aroma). In fact, maybe if Jews actually left Elijah a nice Santa Ynez Pinot Noir or jammy Paso Robles Zinfandel he might actually fucking show up once in a while- I mean, the Goyim know what time it is- you don’t see them leaving Matzo and Mansichewitz for Santa- hell no! They leave milk and cookies and that’s why their Messiah brings them presents and ours never comes.

The Face: So, I’ve got a lot of friends who are smarter than me. Like, much smarter. Like, for them a good day at work is when their new book about political theory gets a good write up in the New Republic and for me a good day is fixing the beer taps at the theatre without getting saturated in suds #livingthedream. So, when they tell me about what they are working on and I have absolutely no comprehension of it, I’ve mastered the use of a particular facial expression. An expression that says- “yes, yes, I understand perfectly and I’m thinking very deeply about what you are saying” Cal-Seething--122313-intrigwhile inside my head a donkey sleeps peacefully under a tree with flies buzzing around it’s head. I use this same look when I’m wine tasting and I want to appear really intelligent and thoughtful even though I have absolutely nothing intelligent and thoughtful to say. It’s brilliant! And on the off chance that you’re one of those people I make that face to- just pretend you didn’t read this- seriously- I totally understand everything you’re telling me about robotics and nano-technology! Pay no attention to the slumbering donkey behind the curtain. On the other hand, there are some faces you want to avoid making

Cal-Seething--122313-Confes  Yuck! What is “Sauvignon Blanc” French for battery acid or somethin’??

Cal-Seething--012014--stupiSo are there, like, special pink grapes that you use for rose?

Cal-Seething--12014-partyWoo-Hoo! I’ll get another case of that almond champagne!

Cal-Seething--012014--clownI’m not drinking any fucking Merlot! Right?? Right??? From the movie??? Get it???? (they get it)

And now, just to show you how seriously I take all this- I’m gonna do something I don’t think I’ve ever done before and provide some actually useful information (Heavens to Murgatroyd!). So- here goes:

Actual Useful Information:

Remember that part of Sideways where Paul Giamatti gushes about Pinot Noir? No, no the other part. No- I mean that other one. Cal Seething- 012014-lucasRight- there you go. So- the Pinot he was drinking was actually a Lucas & Lewellen 2001 release- and as someone who once owned a few bottles of that, it’s totally gush-worthy. In fact, just thinking of it now makes me drool like Pavlov’s dog- assuming, of course, that the dog enjoyed a silky, full bodied, fruit forward California Pinot and, let’s face it, what dog doesn’t? (Mine. It’s Napa Cab or nothing with that snob. Son of a bitch is costing me a fortune.) And speaking of Cabs- they make some terrific Cabernet Sauvignons there- including the always astonishing Cote Del Sol (which is Danish for “you’re gonna spend more on this wine than you really feel comfortable with. Deal with it”.) So- the Lucas & Lewellen tasting room is all laid back, upscale charm in dark wood with a stainless steel bar offering French styleCal Seething- 012014-tocatta wines.

Tocatta, meanwhile, is owned by the same people, and and is all bright colors, kitschy merchandise and big, bold Italian style wines. It’s like that crazy Italian cousin who wears bangles and big colorful skirts and hugs just a little too much. You forgive her, though, because she always brings a kick ass bunch of wines with cool Italian names like Nebbiolo, Barbera and Nebbiolo-Barbera – which is the marriage of two great varietals who refuse to take each others’ names. Gotta feel bad for the kids.

Those are pretty much the only tasting rooms worth going to in Solvang. Los Olivos has a fuckton of really good ones- or, to use the European terminology a “Metric Fuckton”. The best ones of which are, in my opinion, Consilience & Tre Anelli, Alexander & Wayne, Arthur Earl, and Alta Maria but there are loads of others, including some I haven’t even tried yet. While they’ve got a wide range of wines, the area is best known for Rhone varietals like Syrah, Grenache, Pinot Noir- all grapes that are traditionally grown in…uhm…Rhone, which is….you know….France-ish. There are so many amazing tasting rooms in Los Olivos, in fact, that it was recently named Best Small Town in American by Me. I bet you thought I was gonna make up some magazine title, didn’t you? Cause that’s one of the jokes I use all the time according to OverusedJokesByEric.com – right up there with “Fuck the Patriots” and #HackidieHackHackHashtagJoke #noseriouslythatjokeisplayed

Keep in mind, though, that with Great Wine comes Great Douchebaggery- so you’ve gotta get there early in the day while the LA d-bags are still back in Silverlake carefully disheveling their hair and trying to figure out which asshole persona goes best with wineCal Seething- 012014- morgan tasting (Smug Know-it-All Asshole Persona, natch. It goes with wine tasting like salmon and chardonnay or like being a pretentious twit and using the word “natch”) and the Morgan Stanley Douchebag Bicycle Team shows up en masse in their skin-tight matching bike jerseys to talk at the top of their lungs about HOW MANY TENS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS THEY HAVE IN THIS OR THAT ACCOUNT AND WHATEVER WILL THEY DO WITH ALLLLLLL THAT MONEY. Charming. When the revolution comes, I’m putting bike lanes to the Guillotine.

Beyond Los Olivos, there’s Zaca Mesa Winery on Foxen Canyon Road- an ideal picnic spot to savor your lunch with a bottle of their Z-Cuvee (a perfect pairing for Goober Grape and Lunchables). Then there’s Martian Ranch & Vinyard, where the disturbingly friendly wine pourer not only allowed us to taste anything we could possibly want she also let us pick the Pandora channel for the tasting room (Eagles, natch). Wrap up your day in the sorta-Old Westy charm of Los Alamos at Bedford where, if you’re lucky, the wine maker and his beard will gruffly pour you a Mourvedre that goes down the list of every delightful thing that a Mourvedre is supposed to do to the inside of your mouth and checks every box with precision like an engineer in horn-rimmed glasses at Mission Control.

Oh yeah, and you might need to eat, too. I guess. There haven’t always been a lot of great choices for this-  there’s Paula’s Pancake House for breakfast- for Danish pancakes so big you could wrap baby Moses in them and send him down river, and the Hitching Cal Seething- 012014- hitchPost for dinner- an old school California steakhouse grilling up the perfect rebuttal for any debate with a vegan. The rest was all mediocre Danish food which is pretty mediocre to begin with as world cuisines go- right between Scottish and Schenectady. Fortunately, a lot of new places are opening up in the area and taking a “fuck Danish Cuisine and the abelskeiver it rode in on” stance with their cooking- so there are many better options that there used to be, like the Succulent Café.

OK, well, there you have it. The perfect mid-January getaway. If you live in California, I hope you’ll find this helpful and if you don’t live in California you have only yourself to blame. Better get here soon, though- if we don’t get any rain soon the whole damn place is going up in smoke. Thank god I’ve just got the right smoky Zinfandel to go with it. L’Chaim! (that’s Danish for “so long, suckers!”)