Darwinfish 2 Presents...

I’ve always loved standup comedy, probably stemming from the first time I ever heard a Bill Cosby record.  I remember when I was 4 and I got my tonsils out, my parents got me one of his records that had a long bit about tonsillectomies.  I used to laugh my little butt off, even if I didn’t quite get all the jokes.  I still have fond memories of all those old, old Cosby routines… Fat Albert, playing football against Hofstra, Kindergarten, seeing scary movies, the Chicken Heart, Noah and God, and the Great Go-Kart race down Dead Man’s Hill.  Classics all.

As cable TV grew and developed, and the premium channels like HBO and Showtime became the new home for standup comedy, standup began to permeate the medium.  Most of the time, I was too poor to be able to afford HBO, so my dad used to be the gatekeeper.  He’d monitor the comedy specials and record anything that looked promising.  Then he’d either show it to us when we visited or he’d dub off copies to distribute to his impoverished children.

Aside from the George Carlin specials, that we all knew were going to be golden, he always kept an eye out for new talent.  HBO’s Young Comedian series was always good for that, plus the Rodney Dangerfield specials.

One of his biggest finds was Sam Kinison, from 9^th Young Comedians special.  Sam was a game changer.  There was so much anticipation surrounding his first album and then his first solo HBO special.  We must have watched and listened to those a zillion times.  And as you may remember, I got to tell Sam that myself when he did an in-store appearance at one of our record stores.

Sam led to Andrew “Dice” Clay, who had a much shorter shelf life.  I mentioned the late Robert Schimmel, back when he died last month, but he was another find.  The late Richard Jeni was also hilarious.

One of my favorite Dad “finds” was the Scottish comedian Billy Connolly.  He was a huge star in Europe but completely unknown here.  Whoopee Goldberg did an HBO special where she did the first half hour and then “presented” Connolly to do the last half.

Honest to God, we still quote lines from that special when we get together.  I know a lot of comics do this, but he did a bit on flying that to me is the gold standard.  Part of it is in this clip below:

I swear, I watered my eyes laughing playing this clip just now.  Trust me… play it.  You won’t be sorry.  (Unless you’re at work, in which case it could get you fired.  If you like this bit, you can dig up the rest of the act on YouTube; just look for Billy Connolly 1990, in 4 parts.)

For a short time, I was able to afford Showtime, so I could also be on the lookout for new acts.  Showtime was trying to compete with HBO so they, too, had “new comedian” specials.  Bobby Slayton, the “Pitbull of Comedy” was one good find.  Another was Tim Allen, who unveiled his “Men are Pigs” shtick that eventually landed him his sitcom “Home Improvement.” 

My biggest “find” was probably Denis Leary.  I had never heard of him, but my boss (when I worked for the home office of my music store company) got this promotional video of Denis doing these 30-second promo bits for MTV.  Picture a half dozen guys crowned around a 19-inch TV in a glass-walled office, screaming with laughter, and that was us.  Most of the bits from that promo reel were included in Leary’s breakout work, the concert movie “No Cure for Cancer.”  I couldn’t wait to get a copy of that to Dad. 

Denis Leary on “Drugs and NyQuil”

“The box says ‘may cause drowsiness.’  It should say don’t make any fuckin’ plans…”

OK, I know I’m taking the long way around, but I’m now approaching my main point.

Comedy is meant to be shared.  It’s one thing to laugh your head off alone, but to me it just doesn’t count until you can get someone else in on the joke.  We need people to laugh with us, to get the full effect.

I’ve been reading a particular blog for a while and it is hands down, the most consistently funny blog I’ve ever read.  Each new post leaves my cheeks wet and my stomach hurting because it’s that funny.  You may already read it, you may already have it on your blogroll like I do, hell, you may have been the one that led me to it.  I don’t know the writer and she doesn’t need me to promote her blog.  She gets more comments on one post than I do in an entire year.  But laughing alone is no fun; laughter needs to be shared.

I’m talking about Hyperbole and a Half, written by Allie Brosh. 

For the most part, Allie tells stories from her childhood using her own computer illustrations.  It’s like “The Wonder Years” on peyote.  While she clearly has the ability to make very good, detailed pictures, her style is intentionally primitive… kind of like when South Park first started.  The primitiveness is part of the charm.  This is how she draws her young self:

It’s kind of like a thumb in a pink turtleneck dress, googly eyes and a blond shark-fin for a ponytail.

She posted yesterday about how she was a cake-eating sugar fiend when she was 4.

The prior post was about trying to convince her mom to let her go to a friend’s birthday party, immediately after major dental surgery.  She figured if she could run across the park, she’d be fit to go.  Sadly, with all the Novocain, she couldn’t get her mom to understand what she wanted to go the park.

Both of these posts had me laughing out loud.  Between the drawings that are so expressive, and the understated prose, and the unbelievable stories, it’s simply comedy at its most pure.  And I have to make sure that everyone I know has a chance to get a couple of bellylaughs out of it.

If you like these two posts, check out her “Best of” posts on the right side of her page.  Her story about “How a Fish Almost Destroyed my Childhood,” is one of my favorites.

Lastly, because I’m now a full-fledged Twitterer, I saw a tweet from Allie, saying that she made a video.  It was also hilarious.  It’s nothing like the blog stories.  In fact, it’s just her on camera, alone with a coat.  (The “Cautionary Interludes” are brilliant!)

So, not only does she write and draw, she’s a master at physical comedy.

Ladies and gentlemen, please take the time to discover the beautiful genius of Allie Brosh and “Hyperbole and a Half.”

I Dream of... WTF??

I had the weirdest dream, early this morning.

I was in a big, formal conference room with a notebook and a bunch of papers spread out in front of me and I was working on writing something.

In walked the President… Richard Nixon.

Right off the bat, are you fucking kidding me???  Growing up, Nixon was despised in my household.  I became “politically aware” following the Watergate scandal as a junior high-schooler and celebrating his resignation.  But even so, I haven’t thought about his ass in years.  And here he is in my dream, and I’m not even surprised to see him.

He asked me what I was working on.  I answered that I was writing about my boyhood baseball idol, Roberto Clemente.  He seemed pleased with that answer and began signing each of the pages on the table.  It wasn’t that he was claiming credit, I got the impression that he was autographing each page, to make it worth money… y’know, because he was the President.  And famous.  And dead, but I don’t think he realized that yet.

THEN… a girl came in with a deli tray.  I don’t know who she was, but I began making a big ham sandwich.  I always go big, when it comes to deli tray.

Then I woke up, and let me tell you, I was PISSED!

It wasn’t because I was dreaming about a disgraced ex-President.  I was pissed because I didn’t get to taste the ham sandwich.

I have no idea what to make of any of this.  Help me, Dr. Freud!!! 

And you can ask your friend So-crates too.

Pink and Purple Don't Mix

During the Steelers/Ravens game the weekend before last, I noticed that none of the Ratbirds were wearing anything pink.  The other teams around the league, the Steelers included, were wearing pink-highlighted hats, cleats, towels, chin straps, etc, to auction off later to benefit breast cancer research.  I mentioned in comments on another blog, (I can’t remember which one), that the Ravens obviously hated women.

I later learned that they chose to do the pink thing this past weekend, while they were playing at home and so more players could participate.  That sounded reasonable so I figured I’d give them a pass on the issue.

Now after seeing this item in the paper this morning, I’m back to my original hypothesis that the Ravens hate women.

On September 26th, two women were kicked out of the stadium for kissing in the concessions line.  The stadium security person first accused them of stealing beer, until another policeman verified that they’d bought their goodies.  They had receipts.  Then he said they were “making a scene.”  Later, the official reason changed to that they “stole” a plastic cup that was on the counter, to use as a ketchup receptacle. 

It’s painfully obvious that they were chucked out because they were kissing.  Whether they were actually “making a scene,” I have no idea.  But what are the odds of a heterosexual couple being thrown out of a game for kissing?  Unless they were wearing Steelers jerseys, I’d put the odds at around zero.  Or less.

So now the company line is that it was all about the “stolen” plastic cup.

Right.

The company flack went on to say how Aramark has to track their cups so they know how many they’ve sold, so having their cups “stolen” affects their accounting.

Right. 

Are you fucking kidding me?  What the hell are those big machines with the buttons for?  Can they not figure out how many cups of beer they’ve overcharged their customers for?  What’s next down at the Aramark accounting department, hash marks on a napkin?

I can see where the cup-count can give you a handle on verifying the register, or providing a check on employee “give-aways,” but does one missing plastic cup really warrant the ejecting people from a game that have paid a minimum of $60 apiece for their tickets?

If the cups were that valuable or important, then why were they left on the counter in the first place?  And where was the counter person to say, “Oh no, you can’t use these,”?

It’s plain and simple… This may be the worst cover-story ever.  They were tossed for daring to be a same-sex couple out in public, period.

The Ravens said that they’re satisfied that Aramark and the Security Staff have conducted themselves properly.  I believe them.  Considering that they’re an organization that aggressively looks the other way regarding fan violence in their stands (especially when committed against one not wearing purple), this seems to be more of the same cement-headed provincialism that has always characterized this organization.

The Ravens organization hates women and same-sex couples.  Add it to the list of the other things they hate, which also includes:

*Opposing fans, (who they allow to be harassed, threatened and assaulted, then ejected for their trouble),

*People that want to know who made a tackle against the Ratbirds offense, (because they refuse to announce who makes a tackle against the Ravens), 

*Replays of plays that may not have gone the Ratties’ way. (They never show replays on their huge scoreboards unless it’s a play favorable to the Ratbirds).

It is the position of this blog that same-sex couples are entitled to anything to which mixed-sex couples are entitled. 

And don’t give me that weak shit about “The Children.”  Children at a professional football game in Baltimore hear more gutter profanity by the end of the first quarter than during an encore performance of “The Wire.”  Two girls kissing should be the least of their worries.

I hope and pray that these two women tell the Ratbirds to take their pink chinstraps and pink towels and shove them up their ass, by suing the pants off of this small-minded organization. 

Where’s Gloria Allred when you need her?

Live From NY, It's Just Another Night

For the first time in ages, I stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live last night.  Jane Lynch was guest hosting and I wanted to see how she did.

Now I remember why I stopped watching SNL.  I might have chuckled once or twice.  Maybe cracked a couple smiles.  But for the most part, I watched 50 minutes worth of nothing before I finally gave it up and went to bed.

So sad.

When I was a teenager, SNL was appointment TV.  It blew the doors off everything.  The original cast was priceless; almost all of them became huge stars.  Movies were spun off from the sketches.  Anyone who was anyone appeared as a guest host or musical guest. 

The cast quality ran in cycles; some good, some not so good.  But every so often they’d get a group together that were just perfect.  The originals broke the mold, of course.  The Billy Crystal, Christopher Guest cast was good.  But my favorite was the early 80s cast with Eddie Murphy, Joe Piscopo, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, Tim Kazurinski, Mary Gross, and so forth.

Eddie Murphy’s sketches alone were gold.  Buckwheat.  Gumby.  James Brown Celebrity Hot Tub.  Mr. Robinson’s Neighborhood.  The Stevie Wonder impression, either with Piscopo’s Sinatra or alone.  The bit where Eddie Murphy had to teach a Stevie Wonder impersonator, played by Stevie Wonder, how to sing like Stevie Wonder, may have been my favorite sketch ever.  The shit was laugh-your-head-off funny.

Then there was the Mike Myers, Dana Carvey cast, who I believe overlapped with Phil Hartman and Kevin Nealon.  Wayne’s World alone was good for 2 movies.

The David Spade-Chris Farley cast was in there somewhere too and had many high points.

Every once in a while, a sketch would get passed around the internet; Alec Baldwin’s “Schweddy Balls” bit comes to mind, or the commercial for “Tramp Stamp Remover” with Amy Poehler. 

Before last night, the last time I checked in with SNL was in 2008 when Tina Fey was killing with her Sarah Palin impression.  It was like, her spot would be great, fodder for the next Monday’s water cooler, but after that, they had nothing.

That’s how it was last night.  As much as I hate to say it, maybe it’s time they fold the tent and call it a series.  It’ll still go down as one of the best, most popular and influential series ever, but right now, it’s just not funny. 

Isn’t that the worst thing you can say about a comedy?

Oddly Quick Bits - Puck Fiction Edition

My uncle reposted this video on his Facebook status and it totally made my day.  If you ever wondered how Jules Winnfield from Pulp Fiction would be as a youth hockey coach, click the video below.  I'll be rewatching this for the next 3 hours until the Penguins game comes on tonight.

Warning: Definitely unsafe for work or small to medium-sized children, unless you have earphones.

My Daily Constitutional

I'm a bit backed up in running the editorial cartoons I cherry-pick from First Door on the Left, so I'm dropping a couple here that are thematically linked.

Odd Bits – The Norman Rockwell Has Nothing on Me Edition

I got an email from Sitcom Kelly that reminded me of just how special the fall can be.  Now with the clear days and the cool crisp nights, and the flannel sheets and comforters on the bed, it brings to mind a traditional, time-honored autumn delicacy.

Without further ado, I give you:

How Pumpkin Pies are Made

I don’t even want to think about the Cool Whip.

Good Pub Dept.

The Baltimore Sun has a number of blogs, including one about Reality TV, called “Reality Check”.  Earlier this week, the writer asked if anyone attended the So You Think You Can Dance tour and if so, how was it?

Never one to pass up an opportunity to plug the site, I wrote a few notes in the comments section and linked back here.  Today I saw that she pulled out my comments and put it on an individual post.  (Sans the link, unfortunately.)  While I didn’t write anything I didn’t already write in my own post here Tuesday night, you could see it here, if you wish.

Now, on to a night of DVR’d shows.  (Special hidden benefit: No political commercials!)

Except this one:

(Thank you to First Door on the Left)

Penguins and Grizzlies

Tonight at 7:00 the puck drops on the Pittsburgh Penguins 2010-2011 season.  I’m so excited, I can’t even see straight.  It does add stress, however, because now I have to begin that season-long dance of managing to watch all the games plus DVR and watch all the regular TV shows I usually watch.  By mid-December, I ought to be surgically grafted to my easy chair.

This morning, I saw in Seth’s Empty Netters blog on the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, that the Pens are up to their old do-gooder tricks again: donut and coffee delivery to the Student Rush line.

If you’re a non-Burgher, the Student Rush is a program where the Pens hold back a number of tickets to be sold on the day of the game, at a discount rate, to anyone with a student ID.  This is a throwback to when the Pens were not very good and not drawing much of a crowd so they started this program to put butts in the seats.  And these were young butts that got turned on to the excitement of live hockey.

The Pens have no problem selling out their house now, with nothing but season tickets, but still, they continue the Student Rush program (for select games), to say “Thank You” to the young people of Pittsburgh, for their support.

In the past, the players have appeared to pass out hot pizza to the kids in line.  This morning, it was Head Coach Dan Bylsma, General Manager Ray Shero and Team President David Morehouse that showed up with donuts.

I swear, this organization does not miss a trick when it comes to good fan relations.  Other teams from any sport would do well to pay attention.

Grizzly Madams

Much is being made over Sarah Palin’s “Mama Grizzlies”, as she calls the conservative females she’s endorsing for various offices.  They were the cover story, last week, on Newsweek magazine.

I’m as happy as anyone to see more women running for office, but why do they have to be such whack-a-loons?  These people are so crazy, they’re scaring their own party.  Even the evil Karl Rove referred to Christine O’Donnell, who is running for the Senate seat in Delaware, “nutty.”

How nutty must one be to scare of Rove?  I imagine what he really means is that she’s a true believer.  So many of the Republicans use the religion and family values/anti-sex platform to get elected, then get on with the business of keeping big business flush with cash, the government's and otherwise.  He’s afraid the nutjobs are going to get in there and then expect to actually roll back the progressive advances of the last 25 (or 50) years, and forget to cater to their corporate benefactors.

Anyway, there’s a great quote at the end of the article, written by Lisa Miller:

“Fundamentally, the mama-grizzly phenomenon is not really a movement or even a political term that represents a fully coherent set of ideas.  It’s mostly a marketing tool, meant to draw attention to Americans’ broad dissatisfaction with the way things are.  Fair enough.  Many people are dissatisfied and they want to vent and they want to change Washington.  But in the wild, real mama grizzlies are known to be aggressive, irrational and mean.  The issues facing the country are complex and bears are not.”

Meanwhile, my mother, aka the Poet Laureate of Darwinfish2, put this together to illustrate her take on the MGz:

THE GRIZ MAS

Dark brown hair flows

over tailored red jackets

around long earrings.

White teeth gleam

from smiles big as Alaska.

You women vow

to back off big intrusions

on our lives, our children’s fate

twit of taking back our country

taking care of cubs

ignore kids with no crayons,

lunches, insurance

girls with no homes

no help, no husbands

to whom they can ‘graciously submit’.

Winks, pantyhose

manicures replace

unblinking yellow eyes

matted fur, fangs

towering ferocity.

When she comes

to your cabin, places

her paw on your window pane

will you match your hand to hers

compare claws? 

 Mary Ann  10/6/10

I Don't Think I Can Dance

Just got back from the So You Think You Can Dance 7 Tour, which was just at the First Mariner Arena in Baltimore.

Part of the opening number.

We had decent seats on the side, but not so good that I could get any pictures where you could see faces.  The dancing was unbelievable, but the only beef I had was with faces.  For all the video screens they had behind the stage, you’d think they’d focus on the stuff you couldn’t see from the back and sides… They should have had the cameras zoomed in on the dancer’s faces, especially at the end when they stood still to bow and soak in the applause.

But really it’s just a quibble.

There was no Cat Deeley sighting either, although she was there on the video screen during the clips, plus they had her voice recorded for introductions.

I don’t know enough about dancing to provide any coherent critique of the show, nor do I have the memory to recall which people did which dances, with whom.  Mostly, I just enjoyed watching the hot dancer chicks.  The thing about these dancers is that they’re not these stick-thin ballerina types.  These girls have thighs that can crack walnuts.

Season 7 Champion, Lauren, and runner up, Kent.

The sheer athleticism necessary to dance these kinds of dances is just amazing.  My favorite bit of the evening was when 3 of the best hip hop dancers came out and took turns just tearing it up.  They could freeze in the most unbelievable positions, holding themselves up off the stage with one hand.  These dudes made John Travolta in his prime look like a zombie.

Anyway, it was a solid 2 and a half hour show.  It did get draggy a bit… it’s like when they have the 2-hour shows on TV.  Round about and hour and a half in, I start to check my watch because I’ve had enough.

Worst part of the night was that I was sitting next to a human beach ball, so I had to kind of hang over on Pinky’s side.  Got to be a little crampy after a while.

Rather than try to think of a clever way to end, I’m just going to throw in one more picture and go to bed.  The time to make the donuts comes early… 

One of the ensemble dance numbers, a Bollywood routine.

The Mojo Boogie - The Aftermath, Week 4

Well, I've had better days at work.

I didn’t have to take too much shit, but unfortunately I can’t say the same for some of the others in the Steel Citi Underground.  I think word may have gotten out that I’m tough to out-do with the smack talking, because I already know what they’re going to say before they say it.

Like today at lunch, some Rattie fan came up to me and said, “Where’s your Steelers jersey today?” 

Like, “duh”, it’s not jersey day, so just like everyone else’s, it’s at home.  But what I said was, “Where was your Ravens jersey the day after you got your ass kicked by the Bengals?”

She didn’t know what to make of that, so she scurried back to the baseboards, where the rest of the Ratbird fans run, so they could go back to planning the Super Bowl parade route.

I should have sent out a list of “Talking Points” to the rest of the group, for use when confronted with flapping Rattie mouths:

1.      The last 3 times the Ratbirds beat the Steelers, they played our 3^rd or 4^th string QB.

2.      Our usually “lights out” kicker missed 2 field goals.

3.      Three penalties on our last possession, two of which were false starts, in our own house!  (Only included under the guise of handing the “W” straight to them.)

4.      Congratulations on Flacco’s nuts finally dropping.

5.      Lastly, there’s always this:

They hate when we bring that up.

In other news, Steelers blogger for the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, Dan Gigler, ran my letter and pictures describing Friday’s Baltimore Insurgency that we conducted.  You can check it out here.  I’d ask you to go and comment and tell him how wonderful we are, but you have sign up for an ID and password first, and I’m not in the business of adding hassle to my friends’ lives.  But you can if you want to.

He asked to send him word of our continuing adventures, especially surrounding the next Steelers/Rats game, so we’ll have to come up with something good.

Search for Reality

A quick search note: I got a search from Thailand, who found my site by Googling “Panic Stricken Rabbit.”  He got the bulging-eyed Roger Rabbit cartoon I had posted in July, which represented the look on my face when I almost wrecked my new car while on the way to the MVA to register it.

Who only knows what he was looking for.  Possibly something from Fatal Attraction, maybe? 

Programming Note

Just to show I’m not all about football and other he-manly pursuits, I won’t be around to comment tomorrow after work, because I’ll be taking Pinky to see the touring show of “So You Think You Can Dance.”  (aka: SYTYCD)  I bought the tickets for her birthday in August and tomorrow is the show.

Pinky was a dance major in college so she got me watching it when we first started going out, and I found I liked it.  Or, more specifically, I found I liked all the young, hot chicks dancing around in tight spangled costumes.  And even more specifically, I’m fascinated by the host, the lovely Brit, Cat Deeley. 

Not only is she tall (5’9” without her customary 3” heels) and drop-dead gorgeous, she’s very quick-witted and funny.  Sadly, I don’t think she goes on the tour, so I’ll have to amuse myself with the hot dancer chicks.  Otherwise, as PittGirl would say, “Set the Stalk-O-Meter to ‘Stun and Self-Unite.’”

Hey, don’t think Pinky won’t be scoping out the hot dancer guys…

Anyway, I may Tweet some thoughts if any occur to me.  I expect there may be some downtime between sets.  Regardless, I’ll be sure to tell you all about it in the next post.

The Mojo Birthday

Whenever your birthday is on a Friday, you get full birthday privileges all weekend long, so it’s been a rather nice weekend for me.

First of all, thank you to all that took the time to wish me a happy birthday, either through this site or Facebook.  I’m humbled that so many people took the time to tap me out a simple message; it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  (For the rest of you, what the hell are you waiting for, for cryin’ out loud?)

I had to share some incredible birthday presents I got.  (OK, I bought’em myself, but it was still very thoughtful.)  Last week, Café Press sent me a bacn notice that they were running a buy 2 get one free T-shirt sale.  I love their stuff, so I thought I’d take a look around.  I never got out of the Monty Python section.

First, I saw this, which made me laugh out loud for a solid minute. 

Obviously, this is based on one of my favorite sketches, the Ministry of Silly Walks.  That’s funny in and of itself, but add in the evolution factor along with the Darwinesque attitude of this blog, and it was a no-brainer.  Had to have it.

A page or two later, I saw this variation:

Cassie, Carly, and the rest of you youngsters, there used to be this band called the Beatles, and they had an album cover featuring the band walking across a street in a big crosswalk.  It was called Abbey Road.  (Yinz kin look it up.)  So I guess it was really John Cleese that was the 5^th Beatle.

For those that have no idea what I’m talking about, and also for those that do, this is the famous Ministry of Silly Walks sketch:

The last shirt is based on another of my favorite sketches, but it’s not one of their better-known ones… much less famous than the Parrot sketch, the Argument Clinic, or Spam, but no less funny.

This one is based on the Election Returns sketch, featuring the Sensible Party versus the Silly Party.  The candidates for the Silly Party are introduced with names that get sillier and sillier as the sketch goes on.  You have to see (or at least hear) this one to appreciate it.  Tarquin comes in at the 2:00 mark.

In all truth, I prefer the audio version from the album, because it’s funnier when they go through it faster, but I still think of this bit every election night.

Lastly, Pinky got me this little treat:

Don't you just love it when someone knows the exact thing to get you?

Rabble Rousing

As I’ve said before, we Steelers fans are everywhere, Baltimore included, and our office is no exception.  In August, I wrote about how a couple of us decided to band together and organize (albeit loosely) all the Steelers fans in our building.  So whenever our building has one of their "Purple Fridays," we make it our business to show up rocking the Black and Gold.

With the Steelers/Ravens game this year, we decided to make our first public show of force.  The Ravens fans have been planning the parade route since the pre-season, and they don't take kindly to anyone doubting them.  So our plan was to meet for lunch together wearing our team colors.  No need for any stunts or speeches, we just had to be there.

You should have seen all the stink-eyes we got.  Later as we posted for pictures outside the building, some guy and driving by in a van started hanging out the window and screaming at us.  I couldn't tell what he was saying but he was NOT joking.  He was seriously pissed.

Earlier that day, one of our guys got word that at their weekly "breakfast" for his department, some people were planning on decorating the room with Ravens stuff.  So they got into the room early and decorated it in Steelers stuff before anyone else arrived.  From where ever you are, I'm surprised you didn't hear the sound of all the jaws hitting the floor when those Ravens fans came in the room and saw all that black and gold.  Priceless!

The Steel Citi Underground having lunch amidst the Ratties.

Sweating out the drive-by.

We’re totally in their head.  Now, we just better win.  (BTW, I considered getting someone else to take the shot so that I could get in them, but I just didn't trust a Rattie fan not to mess it up on purpose.)

The Mojo Boogie

It’s been an interesting season.  I’ve watched the game in 3 different places, worn 3 different outfits and we won all 3.  Today will be the first time I have the opportunity to do the same thing in the same situation.

I have to decide whether to go with the ever-changing ensemble, or look for the commonality.  Last time the Steelers played at home and I watched the game from home, I wore my black #56 Lamarr Woodley jersey to work on Friday, and then at home watching the game.  I’m opting to do the same here.  My theory, at least early in the season, is to seek patterns and ride the trend.  If we win today, there’s a trend for watching the game at home.  Gotta start somewhere. 

So, today’s Mojo:

Wish me luck!

More Birthdays

Lastly, happy birthday to my nephew Sammy, who turned 5 on Tuesday.  I got to play with him and his brother today.  Well kind of… I handed them the ball and let them fight it out.

Earlier, before Sammy and his mom got home, their daddy and I had to step out for about 15 minutes, leaving 11-year old Daniel home alone.  (He’s a very responsible boy.)  Anyway, as we walked out, I said, “OK, no wild parties while we’re gone.”

He looked up and said, “No promises.”

I was so proud.