Tryin' to Play Gorilla

I can't quite put my finger on what makes this clip one of the greatest things I've ever seen on the whole innanet. Is it the Phil Collins? Is it the gorilla? It really is hard to say. Somehow though, the match made between nature's largest primate and the genius who brought us "Sussudio" seems like one that was made in heaven. Judge for yourself (video NSFW but only if you work in a zoo or are a member of Genesis).

Friday's Hangover Inducing Video Dump

Happy weekend kids! While everyday is a Saturday for your humble narrator these days, I still appreciate the plight of the working man and know what it's like to want to unwind, relax and kick back a few after a long week of pushing the broom for the man. In that spirit, I took some time out of my very lazy day to compile some of yesterdays finest alcohol related propaganda. Being that I am gifted in the art of keeping it real, and am also living a life of leisure on a government paid income it seemed appropriate to focus upon the oft consumed but rarely publicly acclaimed beverage, malt liquor. So in closing, remember to drink responsibly (as in don't drink with me), don't drink and drive as you may spill your drink and never overpay for street walkers. Enjoy.

Budweiser Malt Liquor

First I ever heard of this was when I was doing my search for ads. I'm not upset I never had the pleasure of cracking one of these open, but I am a little bewildered that it seems malt liquor was once actually marketed to white people. I am more than slightly disturbed by this, as I suspect you will be as well.



Colt 45

The Billy Dee Williams Colt 45 ads are nothing short of legendary. While they were directed at the generation prior to mine, I find that the peers of mine who remember the ads do so quite fondly. There is a perfectly good reason for that: they are absolutely ridiculous. Listen, I do not intend to imply that Billy Dee is not one of the smoothest brothers to have ever walked this earth, that is indisputable, but trying to bring dignity and respect to malt liquor is tantamount to trying to get my cat to go out and get a job and support the family for once. It's not going to happen. That being said, the effort is more than respected, it is admired. Below are two fine examples of Billy Dee making it work every time.






Country Club

This ad is not good. At all. I only posted so you can all see why it is just wrong in every way.



King Cobra

Fred Williamson may not be the actual God, but he is A god, as proven here.



Schlitz

I'm not really sure what the fuck is going on here, but I do know there are so many things awesomely wrong about this ad. Key word awesome.



St. Ides

It is no secret that St. Ides put out the absolute BEST commercials in the 90's. Saying that the advertising caused me to illegally purchase and illegally drink the sweet crooked I nectar is slightly misleading as I was guzzling any bottle I could get my hands on at that age, but it certainly did create enough brand allegiance that given the choice I always wanted to visit the sweet tropics of the island of St. Ides. Below are some of the finest ads ever created, for malt liquor and beyond.

BIG


Wu-Tang
TV Version


Full Version


King Tee (note: with two aspiring DR lawyers to protect me, I too will have a St. Ides license plate one day)


Ice Cube & The Geto Boys

TV (bonus points for the bootleg style)


Full


Is it even legal for little people to drink?

Rakim (Yes, Rakim Allah supports malt liquor. Awesome.)


Snoop Dogg and Nate Dogg (Couldn't find the video version, which features Snoop's hair at its best)


Method Man & Redman (minus points for it being a Special Brew ad)

TV


Full




Bonus Hangover Remedy Ads

Nas & AZ - Sprite


Pete Rock & CL Smooth - Sprite


Biggie - Pepsi

The Tao of Thad

According to Google, Thaddeus Young is the 6th most important Thaddeus on the whole innanet. He trails the likes of St. Jude Thaddeus (axe-wielding holy man), Thaddeus of Edessa (one of the 70 disciples (though presumably no relation to Shabazz the Disciple)), and Thaddeus Stevens (flamboyant Republican congressman). This sad state of affairs belies a truth that the believers amongst us have known for some time: if this Sixies team is to ever contend for an NBA title, it will be upon the slender shoulders of the man we call Young Thad.

'Tis a rare sight in the NuhBuh that a team without a superstar is able to reach the league's upper echelons. In the last 20 years, only the '03-04 Pistons (who's best player, Rasheed Wallace, had been a superstar on Portland before sublimating his own skills to play the team game in Detroit) and the '99 Pacers (who's best player, Reggie Miller, was certainly better than Andre Iguodala) reached the Finals without a bonafide superstar leading them. In the later rounds of the playoffs, when the scores are all close, the defense gets sticky, and the games slow to a half-court crawl, having a player who can make tough shots and more importantly command the respect of the refs is invaluable. That's why an egalitarian team like the Sixers will inevitably have trouble down the stretch - without a player who can consistently score or draw a foul in a one-on-one situation, they won't get any calls, and will struggle to put points up.

Elton Brand may have once been that player, but he isn't anymore. Andre Iguodala, for all his positive qualities, will never be that player either. Lou Williams is a good, aggressive crunch-time scorer, but anyone who thinks he is the go-to guy on a championship team is smoking Dennie Street's finest.

Our future rests in the soft, soft hands of Thaddeus Young.

All season long we've been maddened by the Sixers' inability to realize this essential truth. In the last 15 or so games however, it appears that the irrepressible genius of Thad's left hand has invaded even their most calcified of brains. As the team has begun looking to Thad in the half-court, and the coaching staff has (gasp!) starting actually running plays for him, he's been averaging over 20 a game on 53% shooting (37% from treyland), and has emerged as a reliable scoring threat. Oh and by the way, he's not even old enough to get into Bob and Barbaras!! And playing out of position! Thad is the truth; he tao is undeniable, and all should bear witness this spring as we witness the coming out party of the NBA's next superstar.

On a Roll Like a Deli Sandwich

It's been a long cold winter for the DR, but we're finally showing signs of life. Buoyed by Sammy D's inspiring work on the just-concluded western road-trip and by a weekend trip to the land of grouper, we've finally started the slow process of emerging from our respective cocoons. And so it came to pass that, as I contemplated how best to break my month-long post-less streak, a little birdy named Michael Klein came along and whispered through the internet a tidbit of glorious news:

"Phillies shortstop Jimmy Rollins says he and longtime girlfriend Johari Smith are "checking out some islands" and plan to be married in January."

J Roll and our own favorite high school classmate aren't content with just getting married though. According the Bill Gates:

"Jimmy Rollins...and girlfriend Johari Smith will appear in a Playboy fashion feature, most likely in the June issue and on video on Playboy's Web site."

Now, there are many things to take issue with here. First: since when are there videos of men in Playboy!? Second: does it make me gay that i want to purchase the Playboy in which Jimmy Rollins is posing? Third: will Abby Klein be invited? Fourth: will she have a plus-one? Fifth: what are the chances that the island they decide on is Haiti?

I could go on and on, but I think instead i'll stop here and simply wish the bestest of luck to the young couple. I can't wait until their kids are catching wreck in the Smith Gym.

Let The Madness Ensue

Here at the DR we are cut from a different cloth. The editors at large are not what the masses would call "normal". That being said, it is that time of the year again, time for our march madness preview. There will be no basketball talked about in this post, but rather the more important bracket. This year's Name Of The Year(NOTY) bracket is nothing if not phenomenal. It's not just me who thinks so either. Check out what some of my colleagues have to say on the subject:

- Atari Bigby of the New Brunswick Herald Times Picayune Daily has called this years tournament "The year of the upset!"

- Blogger Majestic Mapp of www.thisisafakeblog.blogspot.com/org.us.gov claims "Finally, a tournament that Kok dominates."

- Neon Beaudeaux who has been a guest editor of the Metro Calcutta asserts " This year has more intriguing first round match ups than ever: Dick v. Beaver, Warmflash v. Koldsweat, Uranus Golden v. K Cumalat, and Dr. Shasta Kielbasa v. Cherish Frankenstein." With examples like that who could argue with Mr. Beaudeaux?

Without further ado, I give you all a sneak peak at my bracket. I have 10 upsets in the first round headlined by 5 seeds of 10 or higher making it to the round of 16. Now... on to the FINAL FOUR. Only one #1 seed made it into my final four. Sadly, Taco Vandervelde was not one of them...that sneaky canuck. On the top Half of the bracket I have Glorious Johnson going up against the Reverend Valentine Handwerker, and on the bottom half Nutritious Love v. Dr. Shasta Kielbasa. Surprise final four participant, #5 seed Dr. Shasta Kielbasa, goes up against Glorious Johnson in the finals with the glorious one prevailing in a ridiculously close race.

I Have Seen The Light

As many of the readers know, Bubak is an avid television watcher. It has been previously documented on this very site that I have 74'' of HDTV housed at the crib with all the accouterments. With so much to watch (and so much to catch up on via DVR) it is not often that I venture into those channels that no non 50+ year old white man in checkered pants watches. Monday night happened to be one of those nights...THANK YOU GOD that it was, for I saw the greatest TV show ever created. Like any real red blooded American, I believed that when it came to golf on TV or film, no one could outdo Dorf.



America I am not ashamed to say we as a country were wrong, dead wrong. Like any other Monday night, I was sitting on the couch lounging when for some reason unbeknownst to Philo Farnsworth himself I turned to the Golf Channel. What happened next is the fourth best thing that has happened to me this year after marrying my beautiful bride, being a lifetime Sirius member, and going to MONSTERJAM. Monday nights at 9 pm est on the golf channel just became must see TV. The Haney Project might be the greatest idea an exec has ever had. I wont give you every gory detail because you really need to tune in, but I will leave you with these tidbits: Barkley is classic Barkley... congenial, fat, sweaty and utterly hilarious. You can see why the man got a DUI as he is best friends with a random bartender at a random steakhouse who does nothing but talk shit to the Chuckster about his golf game. Lastly, Neil Hartman makes a cameo...need I say more?

The Winter of My Sammy Discontent

While driving back from New York this evening I turned the radio on to get a Sixers score. The 610 WIP host who came on was in the middle of a fiery rant about the embarrassing way in which the Sixers lost to the lowly Oklahoma City Bombers, I mean Thunder, a lowly team without it's two best players(Kevin Durant and Jeff Green).

I got home and checked the box score. Several things stand out. Iguodala and Lou Williams were awful. We lost by fifteen points, Thad Young played thirty-nine minutes, and was somehow +3(when he was on the floor the Sixers scored three more points than the Thunder) at the end of the game. How is that even possible? And Sam Dalembert played seventeen minutes, had three rebounds, one block, and zero points. What is going on with him? And with this team?

I have read several articles recently about Sammy, and even heard Theo Ratliff on 610 talking to Ike Reese late one night. A large segment of the interview centered on Sammy, and some of Theo's quotes included "He's just a different type of personality" and "Sam's a unique guy", quotes which translate into real talk as "Sam is weird" and "Sam is a headcase". Normally I would immediately write a post titled "Rat Bastard" condemning Theo Ratliff, his mother, and his entire family, and sleep a deep satisfying sleep. But the thing is, Theo Ratliff was being diplomatic. He repeatedly told Ike Reese how Sammy should be an All-Star in this league, how he tells that to Sammy all the time, etc.

Combined with several stories about Sammy's post-practice habit of practicing his three-point shooting, his trade demands, and his invisible play of late, and I'm worried about our boy. What's more, I'm angry. I think it's time for some tough love.

Sammy, we've supported you since day one, when nobody even knew you existed. We've defended you beyond all reason. And we deserve better. We deserve a blog devoted to a man who practices his low-post moves BEFORE he practices three-pointers(fact: Sammy has never made an NBA three-pointer in a game). Are you fucking kidding me?!?! Develop a jump hook! Practice your turnaround jumper!! Work on your left hand!! Christ, work on your RIGHT hand!!! Stop pouting. Stop demanding trades. Stop handing in D- work like tonight.

We thought you were a head-case in a good, healthy, charming way, not in a selfish absurd way. Please make all the haters eat their words. Prove to the world you are a flake off the court but never on it. Please, I beg you, make the name Dalembert synonymous with rags-to-riches Haitian excellence, with jaw-dropping athletic ability and work ethic. As it stands, everywhere but here on these pages, Dalembert is synonymous with "terrible contract" and "underachieving headcase". The final judgement rests solely in your hands. Do the right thing Sammy, for you, for us.

This was written in anger and frustration and is my opinion and my opinion only.

Teach them well and let them Lord That Stinks

A little more than a month ago I did what the skeptics of the economy thought impossible: I got a job. My bank account stood and applauded(more like clapped sarcastically). I booed. My life since then has been an ongoing debate between working and not working, eating and not eating, and of course posting and not posting. I enjoy having money and eating food, and when the mood strikes eating money, otherwise I would prefer to be dead broke with nothing to do but watch matinee movies and post on the DR.

My new job requires two major skills: the patience of a tee-ball coach and a garbage-mans ability to work amidst foul stenches. No, I am not in fact a tee-ball coach near the South Philly refineries, but a daycare teacher.

Patience is required because tiny kids(18 months in some cases) know three things: mommy, food, and farm animals. That's it. Daddy? Ehh, maybe they know him, maybe not. Toys? Five raisins in a bowl is a toy for a two-year old. Conversation? Please. Because these cute little bastards know nothing about everything, it's therefore only fair you can't get mad when indeed they know nothing. Sure, it's hard to contain pure rage when you wash a youngsters hands, turn around for a quick second, then turn around again to see the same youngsters hands splashing joyously in the toilet water. But for them toilet water is just water; they'd drink the stuff if given the chance. They just don't know. These moments test me but also make me stronger.

And strength is what I need when working on the second skill: the stench ignoring mechanism. As much as we humans have evolved, we still haven't risen to a level where incredibly foul smelling brown FUNK isn't pushed out our ass. Yo, religious folk, do you really think we were created in God's image? You really think God would be reduced to sitting on a toilet wiping his butt with paper? It's crazy. My point is, I change diapers, and diapers stink.

But my larger point is that I change diapers and re-wash toilet touching hands knowing full well that my DR time suffers. So I'd like to offer a few comparisons from my new job to recent events outside of the job.

Don't Touch That! Stop Touching That!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
The redundancy of reminding kids that electrical outlets are bad is beginning to remind me, in a roundabout way, of how frustrating it is to be a Sixers fan right now. They exist at this point in the season as a convenient workout session for good teams. I'd love to believe we will turn it on, improve at all the things we suck at(perimeter D, perimeter O), and make the next two months interesting for all of us. But I don't feel it. Maybe it's the winter talking. Maybe DiLeo has a trick up his sleeve. But I do know this: Sammy isn't happy, and when Sammy isn't happy the world isn't happy.

A Big Diaper of Shit
The Eagles remind me of one. They stink. The BDawk disaster has been beaten to death in Philly, so I'll keep it short. We have the money. He played well down the stretch last season and is hands-down better than whoever will replace him this season. And he was the most popular player on the team, by far. What a doggone travesty.

Weeee're Going Outside!!
When the weather is nice we take the kids outside, which offers both fresh air literally and a sense of time moving faster. It's a happy time. Sort of like Spring Training and the Phillies. No amount of exhaustion will keep me from offering a detailed Phillies preview come April, and since it's early March and the story-lines in Clearwater are mostly boring I just hope you all are getting subtle satisfaction from Johan Santana's elbow problem, as I am.

Where's My Peanut Butter and Jelly!?!?!
Last week I forgot to make a PBnJ for lunch, which nearly forced me to leave work early. I was so hungry. PBnJ is such a simple, bland sandwich, sometimes we forget how important and underrated it can be. Sort of like Tra Thomas. The Eagles are about to let him leave too. It will be fun playing the sack drinking game during Eagles games next year. One shot of cheap liquor for every sack Winston Justice gives up. The Eagles lose, McNabb gets hurt, and all drinking game participants die.

Gooood, you said Dog!! Good Job!!
Bobby Jindal. I would call you Piyush but that would upset our readers with the name Piyush. You appeared after Obama last week and sounded like a stupid person. You were talking to the audience the way I talk to the two-year olds at my school. At least read us a good story with some good pictures Jindal.

I just realized that the combination of a daycare center and Sammy Dalembert is perfect. Sam, if you're out there, and we all know you are, come volunteer with the kiddies for a few days and get your spirits boosted. Jai Ho!!