Category: Buffa’s Bullets

The salt, pepper, and oregano of my mind. The Emilio lunch bag from Breakfast Club version of a blog.

Here’s what I know: Volume 2

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Hello. As you attempt to disrobe from the sticky ugly smelly disgusting outfit you wore outside in the Sahara of the Midwest today, I’ll open things up with a few groups of people who shouldn’t be eliminated from life but need an ass kicking.

Let’s run down a list of things that boggle the fucking mind. The things no one wants to mention or uncoil over because feelings will be hurt or apologies will be in order. In other words, things movie stars can’t say on social media without getting a phone call from their publicist.

In no coherent listing or order….

People on Twitter who complain about sub-tweets. Let me catch you up cavemen types who don’t use the social networking platform that I’ve built a career on top of. Sub-tweeting happens when someone gets into an argument with someone directly on Twitter and afterwards they complain to the rest of their following without mentioning said person. Guess what? We all fucking do this. Every day. We do it in real life. Away from computers. Rarely do people tell someone how they really feel. They will wait and complain to others. Stop complaining about, you hypocritical asswipe.

A word about people at the gym who wear spandex. Rethink it. I know it’s the place where you can be yourself and let your peacock fly but stop it. No one needs to see that. Until you carve the body you need to wear those clothes, leave the spandex at home. In fact, burn that shit with the 1980’s concert t-shirts you still have. Def Leppard will understand. I don’t wear skin tight clothing and I’m in good shape. It doesn’t look good. When you try to dance, your stomach contorts in a way that produces groans. Do that shit at home. Just advice.

The parental advice crowd. This is always humorous coming from people who don’t have kids. Do the world a favor and never give other parents advice about their kids. Their world is a different place than your own so stop it. 99 % of people who give advice need a lot of it themselves. They want to come back at them and help them so it’s their indirect way of starting the conversation. When someone you don’t know, trust or like attempts to give you advice, stop them. Give them the good fortune of thinking about their own life than others. Or politely request for them to fuck off. Either way. The latter is less characters if it is a text.

The people who want you to donate 65 hours of time to their TV show of choice but won’t watch the one you recommend. First, watch whatever TV shows you like but understand one thing. When I tell you to watch a TV show, I’ve watched it twice and know you’ll like it. I don’t just recommend anything. I don’t recommend bullshit. I want you to watch something that is different. However, please watch whatever you want. There’s nothing worse than someone telling me to watch The Walking Dead over and over. I tell them, “Watch Kingdom on Audience” and it’s a deal. They are then puzzled and leave the conversation. I asked them to watch less than 30 episodes of something but they want me to watch over 65 episodes of a zombie show. Forget it. Two way street.

Hey LA Rams owners, associates, and share holders trashing St. Louis five months after taking a football team from my city. Understand this. You won’t win a Super Bowl for years. I am talking 5-10 at least. You won’t catch lightning in a bottle like St. Louis did in 1999-2004. Forget it. There’s dipshits that still smack St. Louis even though they will play football games in 2-3 years in front of a half full stadium. What a crock of shit. STL didn’t shit on LA in 1995 when they got the Rams. It goes to show you how some people on this earth deserve to have a nasty shit filled diaper rubbed across their dry face.

A word about people who disrespect single parents. What the fuck do you know? Single parents are the true heroes of this world. Sometimes life dishes you a bad hand and things must be dealt with. Life keeps going on while bad things occur. The good people who just want to raise their kids are fucking warriors. The people who slight them or deny them respect can eat a good old toasted six inch sub full of excrement. Yeah, it happens so don’t ask who unless you have 45 fingers.

Well, that’s enough of that.

Here’s what I know this week. Sometimes, you just need to go to sleep. Nothing worth happening will go down that can’t be recapped when you wake up. Sleep is underrated.

Call your fucking parents. If you have one left, call him or her. If you have two and hold a grudge, call them. If you they don’t care about you, then call the one friend who resembles family.

Speaking of friends, don’t hold it against them if they don’t text or call for a few weeks or month. Life happens. A lot. There are times where 24 hour sets sprint by someone and they don’t think about their friends. It’s not always personal. It’s just part of the hustle. I have good friends I don’t speak with for weeks and then we do and it’s like no time has passed. Good friends aren’t people who constantly stay in contact; They are the ones who will be there when you need them.

Life is a challenging, damaging, and ultimately rewarding test of endurance. A true experience. As the Big Austrian once said, stick around. Next week, my family is once again making a bold choice for the greater good and it’s not going to be easy. You’ll find that few things in life are worth chasing down that don’t involve a little hardship.

The dark and funny thing about life is that when you least expect it, something you love dearly will be gone. Whether it’s a friend you know that loses someone or an old friend of yours who passes, it’s a gut punch.

One good pint of beer is better than three okay pints.

One good shot of whiskey is better than three fingers of watered down whiskey.

copywriting-immobiliare

A good cup of coffee can not be beat. 

I love what I do and I’m only getting started.

Thanks for reading and so long for just a little bit.

Here’s what I know 

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There’s nothing better in life than the things that you know and believe in. It’s your own brand of authenticity and it’s a necessity. A way of saying this is me and that’s all there is to it.

The best birthday cards I get are the ones from my parents because they are the shortest and contain the most to the point sentences inside.

The last one read. “My three favorite words. That’s my son.”

Here’s what I know. Random and without an editor, so file your complaints with my vacant assistants desk.

  • The Shawshank Redemption’s ending can play on a loop all day and I’ll watch. Stephen King’s most underrated book and Frank Darabont’s best film. Red and Andy. Add Thomas Newman’s score and it’s mint.

  • You can hate Trump and Clinton all you want. Guess what? One of them is going to be taking office in Jamuary. I think Clinton sucks a little less. Trump in office is like Bill Pullman in Independence Day but a lot less cool and a lot dumber.
  • Baseball is an exhausting game to love. Unlike most sports, you don’t get much of a break and even the off days seem like long commercials. It’s relentless and unless your team is impeccable, it’s going to whip you in several directions, and frustrate the shit out of you. Every year. For seven to eight months. The Cards do this every year and they can win 86 or 100 games. It’s a long year. So it’s important to stay seated as long as you can. Get mad and throw things but don’t give up inside three months. There’s so many games left that when I notice Twitter followers wanting to sell, I laugh. They never learn. It’s a long year.

(more…)

Unfiltered Arkansas thoughts

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Greetings from a beautiful Sunday morning down in North Little Rock, Arkansas. Care for a stroll towards wherever my mind takes us?

Over the past few weeks, I’ve tried to push some fresh prose into this corner of cyber space as a way of keeping the site from becoming a door mat. It all started here over 750 posts ago, and these days a lot of movie reviews, interviews, and assorted archive footage fill the space and it’s fine. I’ve become a paid writer even if that makes mere drinking and gas money. It’s more than I used to make and hopefully it grows.

The Dose still serves as my outlet to say whatever the fuck I please. I call it my Teddy KGB zone. I can drop F-bombs at will and also write controversial opinions(like Johnny Manziel is secretly a Russian covert agent spying on us). I like it here because they know me. So let’s drop a few words. An unfiltered rant. Bullet round style.  (more…)

Unspoken Truths: If you say it, you mean it

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Another batch of old unfiltered rants uncoils now. Taken from July, 2011.

One of the things I hate most in life is when people try to take shit back that they previously said. Bullshit is my response. If it came out of your mouth, you meant it in some way. It was formulated in your cerebellum and registered with the mind and cleared by the conscious before passing through your fucking teeth so save me the propaganda.

Cecil

*A picture of a lion because why the fuck not? Photo credit to the person who took this before being eaten.

A family member or friend will say something to you and days or months later will forget that it ever happened.   They will say that they didn’t mean it.   It was a fluke of built up proportions inside their throat that got put on the vocal chord speed belt without editing.   What they forget is that the target never forgot the intention of the words.   Hopefully, by now, you understand what I am talking about.   Joking doesn’t exist.  Sarcasm is a tool used to shadow real intent.  When words come of someone’s mouth, the makers had a clear intention for them.  It’s almost unfair how sickeningly good my memory is.  I remember everything that comes out of a person’s mouth, or pretty close to everything.   This isn’t taking everything personally, trust me.  (more…)

Blues, Jon Snow, Paajarvi, and more

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Good morning people,

Welcome to the early morning hours of Whatever the hell I want to talk about. No politics or religion. Just random surges of consciousness followed by ridiculous stretches of ineptitude. I like to think of these whatever blogs as my chance to unwind and not play by the rules. Here’s what I mean.

When I do radio hits on 96.7 River Country in Arkansas or CBS 920 in St. Louis, I can’t say FUCK or really truly unleash. I have to calm it down. Sponsors don’t like the four letter word that says it all. I also can’t whip that out for most of the websites I write for and contribute to. Enter the dose.

After a last minute podcast with Carly Schaber Sunday night on the ever slowly growing DOB pod hub at Blogtalk Radio, I wanted to come here and address the flurry of questions sent in by another fine Dan. That is Dan Reilly, STL resident Blues addict and drummer extraordinaire. We met and correspond via Twitter. He asked me a few things and we couldn’t get to them on the pod(30 minutes goes by quick when you are making threats to managers with long hair), so I wanted to come here for a DOB Overtime Session. Let’s get right to it before you click out of this to check your email or text.

Easy question. It’s because we write so much BS that we have an answer for everything. I married my wife 11 years ago and still think it’s the best move ever. Removing the maple syrup from that comment, let’s just say a wise writer doesn’t let a good lady go. As far as picking up multiple hot chicks, I have no clue. My game was retired years ago.

Yes, but that doesn’t mean shit in make believe land. In a land of sorcerers who like to get naked(the red haired chick to be precise), Snow can come right back and go back to being the imperfect yet well meaning heroic son we all know him to be. Kit was on set and is in the trailers. For the story, it would be best if he stayed dead because it’s better for the story and other characters, but once Agent Caulson came back anything was possible.

Montpelier(I looked it up).

Sports are painful brother. Bad. They exist to raise our blood pressures and anxiety levels. It’s not easy being a real fan. I grew up next to my dad being a halfway passionate sports fan. He’d watch, get fed up, and easily cut off from it. I watched, got sucked in, and was shattered. That’s the buy in at this table of sports. You sit down, push your heart into the middle of the table and dare to see it crushed. EVERY YEAR! The Blues will prevail over the Hawks. In seven games. Book it.

It has to be good evidence. I am not sure if it is Pete Kozma 2013 on Mike Matheny and John Mozeliak good but it’s good. Magnus Paajarvi didn’t just get ice time in too many games in 2015-16. He got premium ice time next to Vladimir Tarasenko. That’s like letting a shitty cover band step on stage with the Stones in the 60’s. Bullshit. #56 sucks hairy monkey balls.

Easiest question yet. We are a large army of balded or bearded or simple minded romantic bastards with a need to impose our will. You can’t deny us or resist us. We may not do a lot of drugs, drive fast cars or look like James Dean but we can fight and are passionate about things.

Sometime soon. It’s been over a year and every time I come into town I am so fucking busy. I’ve visited around 5-6 times and it’s always go here, then there, and back to here. Eventually, I can just come back to the Lou and stay. Next time I come in, Reilly, we are drinking. Hopefully toasting a Stanley Cup or a Blues team that had a pulse in mid April after Game 2.

That’s all. Check out the latest DOB podcast for some extended answers and in order to hear the voice of the talented young lady, Carly ScHABer.

Dose of Buffa 2

Thank you for the questions Dan Reilly. Keep drumming pal.

A Stream of Consciousness amid Midnight Baseball

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arnold-schwarzenegger-commandoWelcome to the late night early morning Buffa shack of thoughts. For the people who think I resemble a Post Dispatch writer, consider this the unfiltered take. The lost kids in the store in my head. The words I keep silent while I produce prose for the masses. As the Royals and Mets play baseball in the 14th inning at Kaufman in Kansas City in Game 1 of the World Series. In other words, the game where people try to decide which team Joe Buck wants to win more.

Harold Reynolds sucks. No I mean he really fucking stinks at being a color analyst. At one point in the game, he talked about how everything starts with a pitch and a hit ball. He’s just bad. He knows baseball but the wrong words come out of his mouth. It may be the fact that he accused the Cardinals of stealing signs from the Dodgers a year ago. It could have been the fact that he got on all fours and mentally undressed Clayton Kershaw on a mound. I don’t like him and brings Buck down.

No one rolls with the punches better than Buck. He isn’t as good as his dad. He has time there to get there. He can take anything and roll on. A bad graphic? Got it. A technical malfunction that literally cut off the world series from TV sets for a few minutes. He talked about putting change in the meter and playing all night. He’s smooth. He is intelligent. He cares about baseball. He’s a gem.

Eric Hosmer hits a sac fly and wins Game 1 in the 14th for the Royals. Something you’ll never predict. Bartolo Colon loses a decision to Chris Young. Download that one.

Speaking of Colon, he tested positive for PEDs in 2012. Something to help him recover from all those buffet trips. He’s a large man.

The Royals and The Mets. Two good clubs who made moves at the deadline that boosted their team. The royals added Johnny Cueto and Ben Zobrist. The Mets added Yoenis Cespedes, who hit 17 HR and slugged .604 down the stretch. Something the Cards didn’t do at the deadline.

Bridge of Spies and The Martian are worth your hard warren money at the cinema. 2015 was a weak slate until the last month. Add in the Walk and these are three films that could contend for Oscars yet also entertain and inform an audience.

Bridge of Spies is all Cold War history. A lawyer negotiating a swap of spies during a time where 2 countries engaged in a vicious cock fight that captivated a nation. Hanks is great. Spielberg is swinging the hammer again. The movie resonates.

Martian will literally beat you up with inventive survivalist thrills. In a good way.  As Matt Damon says, it will science the shit out of you. Ridley Scott hits all the right notes here in adapting a novel and adding cinematic twists to engage the viewer.

The Walk is a slice of wild American French history. Joseph Gordon Levitt plays the Frenchman who dared to lay a wire across the World Trade Center Towers and walk across it. Director Robert Zemeckis frames the film like a magician showing a bag of historical tricks. It’s a kick and bittersweet because those towers eventually fell 30 years later.

Kingdom is the TV show to watch and Frank Grillo is a big part of it. It’s everywhere. iTunes. Amazon. Hulu. Uverse. Everywhere. Yeah the show I’ve been bothering you with reviewcaps of is good. A family of MMA fighters. Drugs. Destiny. Ambition. Frank Grillo powered of course. Grillo has quickly over took guys like Jason Statham, Denzel Washington, Jon Hamm and Vin Diesel as my authentic action hero and must watch actor. Yeah fuck you I mean it. He’s dynamite. A guy who looks like he was chiseled out of rusted steel and grit to recreate what Charles Bronson would look like if he worked out. He is a guy who looks the part and sinks his teeth, balls and knee into. Few actors can mold into roles. Frank Grillo can do it. If you don’t know him or his films get on it.

Watch these films.

Warrior, The Grey, Disconnect, End of Watch, The Purge Anarchy and Pride and Glory. See who sticks out.

I haven’t listened to enough new music but Alabama Shakes and The National are good bets.

Starbucks coffee officially tastes like shit. It’s burnt. Over roasted. Bad. I get a five shot iced espresso from the Bux these days. It’s like iced coffee with a nasty ex wife and sirloin steak attached to it with a hammer and blowtorch finish. Try it and hang on.

I’m a t shirt, jeans and fleece guy. Always. Fuck polo’s. Fuck suits. Pleats. I’m a stay at home writer dad so I can look like a bastard. I can be a bald headed bearded Italian with torn jeans and a shirt on the snug side. I got the body to back it up too so don’t hate. If you are fat, stop being fat. It’s a choice.

Don’t eat gas station food. 

Too many school shootings but I’m becoming less surprised. The world we live in has a load of fucked Up people in it. It has nothing to do with video games or movies. Or bad parenting. Some people are born with a faulty wiring. Bad makeup inside. It’s sad but true. This would get more attention but we are busy crying over an ex basketball player who snorted enough drugs to kill a horse. Yeah.

People flip that on me by saying I made it okay to sympathize over Heath Ledger. Wrong. I loved Ledger’s work in the Dark Knight. What he did to himself off the set is moronic. He took a wild mix of pills and died. He didn’t kill himself but he was stupid. He left behind a little girl, family, friends and talent. You see people die and it’s not mourning them. It’s mourning the loss from others. Heath was dumb. No sympathy. His performance in DK is legendary and deserved accolades. His death…not. Same for Philip Seymour Hoffman. Not cool to have your kid find you with a needle in your arm pale dead.

Oscar Taveras made a terrible albeit common mistake. He drank a shit ton, drove and killed himself and his 18 year old girlfriend in a crash. He left behind a son. He was dumb. People can learn from his mistake. No sympathy but Oscar isn’t a murderer. Murder is premeditated assholes.

Maybe parents who lost a child and had a rough childhood can learn from Odom and not snort everything but the dust off the walls at a brothel to find peace. Maybe that will help future depressed folks not make unthinkable lapses in judgement. No Love Ranch for a healing. Better at a church with a horny priest.

Vladimir Tarasenko is a stud and if he doesn’t like being called Tank, I will stop. I fall victim to the player is great so slap a nickname on it bug as much as anyone. Vladi doesn’t care for nicknames and that’s cool. Special talent can make special demands. Not that he actually cares.

If Daniel Craig wants to talk shit about playing James Bond in four films and its “toll”, let him. On the other hand, he can also decide to stop sounding like a petulant child who finally gets to leave home and explore on his own. I love the guy and his impact on Bond won’t be easy to match, but every time I hear high paid movie stars complaining about how a role makes them look or strains them, I feel like stepping into Danny Bautista’s shoes and bouncing their ass down a slope. Then SAY NO NEXT TIME.  LIKE I SAID, Frank Grillo never bitched and moaned. He has two sequels to one monstrous franchise(Marvel’s Captain America: Civil War and The Purge 3) coming up but you don’t hear him WHINING. He just gets on set and kills it. Follow suit, Mr. Craig or I will stain your tux and kick your ass myself. Or I’ll call Tom Hanks to come kill you again(like he did in Road to Perdition).

Ed Burns new show Public Morals isn’t just a good enough show to write about. It’s an old school classy ode to 1960’s police work. He based on his dad’s stories. Consider it the other side of town to Mad Men. Burns is a master at casting, telling a simple story and at making a dream happen. He is the reason you can watch new releases on demand instead of in theaters. He is the reason Itunes releases movies. He once made a film for 12,000 dollars. Respect the craft. Burns is a made guy in cinema.

Burns responded to my tweet, read my article and retweeted(sending it to his 67,000 followers for the Twitter handicaps) my review. He is a gent. Having actors, directors, creators or whatever respond and show a piece of shit like myself attention never gets old. Never.

My wife, the lovely and ferocious Rachel, turned 32 today. We are getting so fucking old. Yes, 32 and 33 can be old when you decided to fight life at an early and try to play house with another human. I am 33 but feel 45. We met when we were flirting with 21. Now we are an old married couple with a four year old 42 pound heavyweight pain in my ass yet adorably earnest dude named Vinny. Happily ever after comes at a cost my friends, but it’s worth it. If the other person is a good fit. Find someone who loves you at your lowest and when you are a complete gigantic fucking moron. I got one in Rae. She’s mine. Hands off bastards. Did I mention she’s almost 5 feet 3 inches? I can lean on her when I’m sleepy. That’s a bonus round you Facebook slot game clicking maniacs. Anyway, today, wish her a happy birthday or just think it you cheap prick.

Time for me to go. I have talked for over 1.600 words and it’s past 1am. It’s late and quiet. Except for the TV, which never sleeps. What’s bad? Trying to go to sleep and a classic like Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Commando comes on the tube. 96 minutes of brainless yet highly entertaining scenery chewing muscle glistening macho tough guy banter. A movie where Arnold spends the entire film in the same green henley and never showers. Fuck. Those were the days. Budget around 25 million. Explosions. Ugly fat bad guys wearing chain shirts with creepy mustaches. I just got a nostalgic boner thinking about it.

Until next time, enjoy the structured writing.

-DLB

 

Hump Day Conundrums 

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I’m a little late here as Wednesday turns into Thursday but bare with me. A stay at home dad/writer doesn’t really keep track of time so the hell with it. Rapid fire style. No fancy routes taken. Let’s run. 

  
Does being a bad parent mean your kid can work a remote instead of the alphabet?

What if pillows didn’t fold?
What if bacon wasn’t crispy?
What if drivers didn’t have to follow a speed limit and instead use their better judgement?

What if all we had was classic Folgers?
What was breakup texting before cellphones? Post it notes. 
What if Siri was a vegetarian and wouldn’t search restaurants with meat?
What if Siri told you to go fuck yourself?
What would men do if they didn’t have hair on their legs?
What would women do without yoga pants?
What if fat guys couldn’t wear sleeveless shirts?
What if aliens were asked to summarize earth and its inhabitants and they held up a picture of a crowded McDonald’s playground?
What exactly does a hockey player want to do to the other team after they get eliminated in the playoffs? It’s not shake their fucking hand. 
What if Hollywood couldn’t reboot, remake, adapt or make sequels out of older films?
How full of shit is Sarah Palin exactly? Does she know?
What if Donald Trump could never say the word “billions” again?

What if NFL referees governed traffic instead of cops? Would holding be comparable to not letting someone in your lane?
What if there were no umpires and robots called balls and strikes? How would managers argue?

What if women didn’t have hair straighteners?

What if guys couldn’t shave their head?

How do you feel about it being hot all year?

What if you made a single woman choose between a carton of ice cream, a glass of wine or a bad rom com?

What if a guy had to choose between shaving cream, chicken wings and Stallone?

What if a big budget movie performed badly, the actors would have to refund their salaries? Maybe Robert DeNiro and Samuel L. Jackson would choose less shittier films. 

What if wrestlers couldn’t become actors?

What if Michael Bay wasn’t allowed to blow things up on a movie?

Last but not least. What if Steve Jobs didn’t go to work? 

Thanks and good morning. 

D l b 

Ranting about a Dentist and Cecil The Lion

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CecilLet me get this out of the way. Since Jimmy Kimmel ranted about it last night I figured I would too. Sometimes, talk show hosts can set a man off. I’ll spin it for you quick.

Cecil the Lion, a treasured animal in Zimbabwe who was being tagged in a research project, was brutally murdered by an asshat from Minnesota. A dentist who thought it would spike his manhood to trap and hunt a lion. In this day and age, men have to get their rocks off by killing beautiful animals because it’s impossible to feel good about yourself if you aren’t killing things in this world. The dentist, named Walter Palmer, paid 55, 000 dollars to make this happen.  Fuck him and everybody who looks like him.  (more…)

A Birthday Boy Rant

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4d481075ed4fa.preview-1024I never think of birthdays as meaningless. New Years Day is a meaningless day. The day you were born is not. It signifies your landing on the earth. The beginning of the end. Every February 3rd, I ask myself what the fuck am I doing with my life. Where am I at? Where am I going? Do I like where I am? The right questions at the right time. Fuck New Year Resolutions. Go with the Birthday Interrogation. I turned 33 years old today. 33 years ago I landed at Barnes Hospital on Kingshighway in St. Louis in the middle of the biggest snow storm to attack The Lou in the past 50 years. As I like to call it, I landed in spring training and quietly ignited the Cardinals to a World Series title. Daniel Lawrence Buffa didn’t take an at bat but I will settle for a quiet producer credit. So let’s get back to those questions and why they matter.

I try to think back at least a year. I was unemployed and looking for work. In a matter of two weeks, I would get a well paid yet doomed night job at Conway Freight. Working overnight in the worst neighborhood. This was pre-Ferguson but riots and murder weren’t a new thing on Hall Street in North St. Louis. I lasted a little over a month there before going to Ronnoco. While it wasn’t a well oiled operation, my 2nd stint with the coffee shop was memorable for the friends I made and the people I connected with. In the most unlikely of places you can find a few gems. Those people know who they are. The others will just be left thinking. If you gather a couple good allies per year, you aren’t an asshole. (more…)

Let’s Put A Smile on That Face

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Hey folks,

Allow me to step in here and shed some light on a bunch of issues that will thankfully have NOTHING to do with Ferguson. What is happening to my northern city limit doesn’t need my fingerprints on it. I will only say this. Protesting is a LOT different than rioting and this isn’t the way to do it. Governor Nixon put on kid gloves when he called in the State Troopers. When The National Guard marches in, the fun will really begin. That’s all I got. Politics and wild maniac activity is for alderman and paid media to deal with. Not this bald South City Lou resident. So let’s begin. The following words may not put a smile on your face but they will brighten your Monday morning with thought, naughty language and a few brazen ideas. This list has no sense of real order so watch out.

  • Baseball season is nearly a month from completing its regular season. Where the hell did this season go? It’s more like where the hell did my fingertips go? Quarterbacks take their offensive lineman out to dinner. I will be treating my keyboard to a vacation when the Cardinals conclude their action this fall. Being a baseball fan is hard enough. Being a writer for the sports adds gray to the face.
  • I watched some preseason football on Saturday with the Rams and will admit it held my interest for exactly 30 minutes. Preseason football is more exciting than spring training because there are more spots available on the starting roster on a football team. Young kids fresh out of college bashing skulls with a few minutes of playing time to impress the coaches and make the team. Sam Bradford looked good. Michael Sam made a few good stops. Overall, the defense looked rough around the edges and the offense mustered 7 points. Isaiah Pead tore his ACL but I don’t think he had much of a chance to begin with so see you in 2015 young man. Bradford escaped without hurting himself. That’s 2 games down and 18 to go to keep Sam on his feet.
  • The Knick on Cinemax is exactly the kind of hospital show I desired. It saves you all the melodrama and relationship bullshit that is dished out on Grey’s Anatomy and other kid glove medical dramas. Director Steven Soderbergh and star Clive Owen are trying to teach us something about the revolution of surgery and the breakthroughs it made right around the start of the 19th century. In 1900, set in New York and with a story centered around Owen’s brilliant surgeon John Thackery. The opening scene places our protagonist in a brothel where the fumes of opium fill the nostrils of its clients. Owen is so good here, carrying the black wavy mane of hair and a mustache that could make Wyatt Earp look in the mirror. Thackery gets in a carriage, asks for the long way and calmly shoots cocaine into the middle of his toes because what is a brilliant surgeon without some drugs flowing through his body. As he tells a young nurse later on, “there are our lives inside the hospital and our lives outside the hospital. Those two should never intercede.” Owen is so damn good at playing this role of the anti-hero. He can act with his eyes alone but his words penetrate with every line of dialogue. The supporting cast is noticeable and good but don’t be fooled, this is Owen’s show. Cinemax started slow with Strikeback(sloppily edited war action drama) and Hunted(decent if forgettable spy flick) and blasted onto the scene with breathtaking ballsack swagger with Banshee. The Knick kicks it up a notch.
  • I have a legit man crush on Miami Marlins slugger Giancarlo Stanton. He looks like a king and swings a bat like Thor. He hits baseballs a long way and looks like he is having fun doing it. He should have been in handcuffs tonight because he murdered a baseball today.
  • I love Twitter and you all know that. Tonight, I got a nice tweet from the director of HOURS, the Paul Walker flick I reviewed on here last week. He said he appreciated my review and may be up for an interview. His name is Eric Heisserer. Surely it isn’t Scorsese but I appreciate any interaction with a filmmaker. Especially one who churned a performance as powerful as the one Eric got out of Walker in his final days. Twitter is a safe haven for people looking to connect. Professionals go there. Writers go there. People live there. I am a Twitter addict. Proud. Facebook is the place I call go to for a booty call once in a while. Twitter is work and play. Facebook is all robotic work.
  • Joe Kelly got roughed up in his Fenway debut. He gave up 7 earned runs and didn’t last 5 innings against Houston. The young man will soon find out that it’s not as sunny to pitch in a hitter’s ballpark. Matthew McConaughey was at the game. He would wise to advise Kelly to simply keep on living.
  • I get people who still don’t like the trade. Once again, I will break it down simply yet finely. John Lackey is a big time veteran pitcher who has closed out two World Series runs. He is cut from the same breed as Chris Carpenter. Lackey broke up with his pregnant wife. He is a bastard. He hates bullshit. He is a Texan strike throwing machine. He fits right in here with all the nice people and A.J. Pierzynski. Kelly may be good in the long run or he may get ripped apart in Boston. Allen Craig is a 30 year hitter who may recover from a foot injury or he may be destined to .260, 12 HR, 65 RBI seasons until he collapses in right field. Lackey is a finisher and the Cards get him(no way out of it for Lackey) in 2015 for the fair wage of 500,000. Lackey, his agent and John Mozeliak shook to that before the deal was signed. Wainwright, Wacha, Lackey, Lynn, Miller/Martinez/Garcia in 2015. DAMNNNN! The only people who truly whine about the Kelly trade are women, kids, and fans of people who wear glasses and play sports. Get over it.
  • Lebron James did the ice bucket challenge. So did Mike Matheny and Kermit the Frog. I like that it raises money for people but it’s ice people. Not hot coals.

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