Sun Bowl

I was just thinking about how I was going to make ends meet in 2011 and this sweet gig fell right in my lap. It’s kind of a dream job for me, writing about football, because those who know me know my two major passions are the gridiron and long green. In these harsh economic times the sad truth is that a man needs a second job, and sometimes a third. I know that I’m lucky, in these harsh economic times, to have even one job, but as many of you know, wages have not kept pace with the cost of living. In fact, many of you have more than likely grown tired of my repeated requests for loans, payday advances, and other forms of the long green, and will happily receive this news of what will hopefully be fruitful and illuminating reportage and supplement to my income.

In anticipation of the heart of bowl season, I went out and bought a post-Christmas on sale TV, a high definition Vizio model that seems to work quite well (and if you didn’t know, TV’s are much lighter in weight these days). I also bought a mid-priced Radio Shack powered antenna, and I’m happy to report I can receive about twenty channels, some of them in amazing digital high def quality, only dreamt about by the fathers of our country. The early bowl games have all been on ESPN, and most of them have held little interest for our community except for the Boise State game, a travesty which I might pontificate on later after this season plays out.

The first broadcast game then, today, New Year’s Eve, and why should I be surprised that it is none other than my televised nemesis, the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. Many of you have more than likely grown tired of hearing me complain about how they hold the airwaves hostage, or at least one of the networks. I guess the idea being that we’re ALL supposed to Notre Dame fans or something, which makes no sense to me. An interesting thing I found out today, however, is how they didn’t play in bowl games for a very long period of time, I guess finding them unseemly (though, I suppose since 1970, the money has kept pace with the unseemliness).

The Sun Bowl, in El Paso, Texas, was graced with heavy snowfall that had to be cleared from the field before the game could be played. The Irish’s opponents, the Miami Hurricanes were mortified by the 30 degree temperatures and played like it. Notre Dame’s backup quarterback played well, in spite of his young age. I think he was 13, but maybe that was his number. He did not look old enough to drink in Indiana, though in Florida, who knows. The game held little interest for me aside from the excellent uniforms. Miami always look good in orange and green, and probably the most stylish helmet logo in college football. Oh, and one thing I keep wondering about the Irish helmets, which you probably know are painted before each game with actual gold flake paint, is why, as steeped in tradition as they like to boast, do they choose to wear the hi-tech helmet style that resembles the aerodynamic bicycle helmet? I’m not saying they should go back to not having a facemask, but a simple rounded helmet would be much more appropriate.

College Football Bowl Coverage

Look no further than The Moss Problem for complete college football Bowl coverage. This bowl season Randy Russell will be reporting on all the big games, and even some of the smaller ones, though as you know, sometimes they’re going on at the same time, and some of the lesser ones might not be televised. We look forward to the day when there is a “Moss Problem Bowl” but that might be a few years off yet.

All of the Moss Problem correspondents are welcome to report on their favorite games, even those who despise football! Though due to “The Economy” we are only able to pay Mr. Russell, and believe me, he’s not going to be socking away a lot for retirement.

Anyway, this has been an exciting year with a lot of controversy, and we hope it continues—well, the excitement more than the controversy. And make sure you vote in Big Ten renaming divisions POLL, on the sidebar here. Thousands have already let their voice be heard, though we haven’t recorded the tallies yet, as their has been a bit of a snafu with the IT department.

I want to wish everyone a happy and healthy and prosperous, etc., New Year.

Best, Tony

New Names for Big Ten Divisions R Us!

You have no doubt heard by now that the proposed names for the Big Ten’s two new six team divisions, “Legends” and “Leaders” has been met with overwhelming and universal loathing, to say the least. Not so much because it makes little sense which teams would be designated as each, or because of the fear that Legends wouldn’t be seen as Leaders and Leaders wouldn’t be considered Legends, but because those names are about as subtle as a drunk and clunky as a bad excuse. Or maybe you like them. Read no further, and crack open another peach schnapps wine cooler.

Big Ten commissioner Jim Delany, in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, has announced that his office will reconsider the names (in what must be seen as an effort to hold onto incensed, vomiting fan revenue in these harsh economic times) (and amidst the increasing popularity of soccer). In an unprecedented move, the powers that be have admitted their lameness and opened the floodgates to tens of thousands of beer-fueled, sports-bar composed emails and text message suggestions for alternative names for the divisions in question. Unsurprisingly, most are worse than the original sorry attempt. However, a few quality outfits like The Moss Problem have agreed to set up polls featuring some of the better suggestions kicking around the airwaves. The Big Ten promises to take notice and “let the people speak.” It’s a lot cheaper than hiring Wieden+Kennedy.

Here is a sampling of the top 16 candidates, which incidentally is the number of teams that will be in the Big Ten by the end of the next decade. Please note: in a brilliant twist on the rivalry concept, some division names are comprised of a “positive” name (Wheat Division) and a “negative” name (Chaff Division)—the idea being that the winner each year will “capture” the positive name for its division for the following year—sticking the losing team’s division with the embarrassing one.

Kings
Emperors

Dorks
Nerds

Dictators
Strongmen

Crips
Bloods

Red States
Blue States

Corn Division
Soybean Division

Pork Division
Beef Division

Bo’s Bastards
Woody’s Wackos

Wheat Division
Chaff Division

Walter Camp Division
Walter Mitty Division

Jim Thorpe Division
Duane Thorpe Division

Joy Division
Pansy Division

Ghoulardi Football Division
Ruggle’s Beat Division

Nike Division
Adidas Division

Freedom Division
Economy Division

Great Plains Division
Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments Division

An Open Letter and Apology from the Editor

Over the last dozen or so years, The Moss Problem has been a leader in reporting on cutting edge entertainment, sports, and political news, as you all know. In recent months it has come to light that the fine reporters and writers for The Moss Problem have been paid far lower than industry standards for similar work, and in some cases have been paid late, and with "latex checks." While it is my position that many of these allegations have been exaggerated, I do admit, as editor for this journal, a responsibility for cutting corners and trimming fat where editorial content is concerned.

From this day forth, as a remedy for these conditions, and in order to maintain stringent artistic standards in these harsh economic times, it will be henceforth the policy of The Moss Problem to award writers and artists by means of full editorial credit only, in lieu of monetary compensation. It is our belief that by eliminating the stigma of payment for writing and artwork, the credibility and journalistic integrity of this journal's contributors will be increased, which will benefit everyone involved, including the reader, who will rest assured that no thought of anything but passion for the subject matter was a contributing factor in creation of the work. In this way, the reader will be assured of the highest journalistic integrity, we believe, available in both print medium and over the World Wide Web.

In a similar vein, I would like to, at this time, confess that for the last quarter of a century, or perhaps longer, I was under the impression that the proper and preferred method of disposal for paper towels in public restrooms was to deposit them in commodes. So deluded was I, that each time I would see an official or hand-written plea to please, do NOT dispose of paper towels in toilets, I read it--apparently due to both my believing I knew what was preferred, and my dyslexia--as a plea to do exactly the opposite of what they were requesting. So, yes, it has been I, Anthony Franciosa, who has been depositing paper towels in toilets from New York to London, from Paris to Milan, from Buenos Aires to Beijing, and in all points in between. And especially at Starbucks locations in the greater Los Angeles area. For this I sincerely apologize.

BSC Rankings

The Moss Problem is proud to announce that it has been selected as one of the 158 independent sports writing publications that make up the sports journal arm of the Bowl Series Championship computer rankings. From this week until the end of the NCAA College Football season, The Moss Problem will have a hand (finger, hangnail?) in selecting the top 25 college football teams in the country.

According to a memo accompanying our selection, The Moss Problem was selected for its high degree of journalistic integrity and unique vision in the face of nearly overwhelming fan base noise. Cited as influencing the decision, was The Moss Problem’s continuing emphasis on non-traditional factors in team ratings, including: defensive domination, coaching idiosyncrasy, home uniform colors, away uniform colors, helmet style and colors, celebration aesthetics, and “extracurricular,” which includes mascot quality, band, and fan traditions. The Moss Problem Poll, rather than trying to assert which team is “best,” based on performance thus far, is a ranking of perceived excellence as well as prediction of final ranking at the end of the season.

Week of October 18, 2010.

1. Oregon

2. Auburn

3. TCU

4. Wisconsin

5. Stanford

6. Ohio State

7. Boise State

8. Michigan State

9. Arkansas

10. Oklahoma

11. Virginia Tech

12. Nebraska

13. LSU

14. Missouri

15. Arkansas

16. Oklahoma State

17. Nevada

18. Texas A&M

19. Utah

20. South Carolina

21. Florida State

22. Mississippi State

23. Oregon State

24. Iowa

25. Hawaii

The Last Airbender in 3D

Now available on 3-D BluRay for selected handheld zombie devices!

Projecting forth to the “future” of “2010”—when it is prophesied that the world is destroyed—the “Airbender” moves awkwardly from his home: 1958 Thelma Corners, Georgia. Carrying far too much of pics load in his metal lunchbox, Airbender (who he finds is the last of his kind in 2010), Harry Potter series’ Tommy Tuberville, thrusts and jousts, taking every opportunity to launch an object at the 3D lens: a playing card, samurai sword, a loogie, a torrent of slo-mo Spaghetti-o's with a wet paper towel sauce, reminiscent of last years “The Last House on The Left in Connecticut.” It soon becomes clear that plot and action are a crippled mare pulling the 3D cart of multiple golden bootie winners Laszlo Kovacs’ widescreen digital Airiflex Hercules.

Airbender is not without its satisfying forked paths upon forked paths of helmer scribe Night Slymon’s trademarked multiple endings upon multiplexed endings. There is more prophecy evident than a glowing Guadalupe on a tortilla chip. The lush, retro hypocrisies of the late Fifties provide a blanket of God and Family, missing from chaotic mess of New York City, which Airbender arrives, unexplained more mysteriously than time travel. Apparently the Port Authority Bus Terminal has a portal in its damaged, glass-enclosed Rube Goldberg billiard ball sculpture, which then takes on dual function as touchstone and subplot.

Karate kicking his way through the panic of Times Square—where tourists from Kansas to Arkansas seem to have arrived to view the apocalypse on the side of skyscrapers projected amid cola and SUV ads—Airbender finds his powers are all too amplified with the sudden years as he horrifies himself and onlookers as he incinerates a family of eight from Toronto. Subplot upon similar subplot pile up on Airbender’s bony shoulders: now he must find virtual darkened doorway pockets of time travel where he can quickly retrieve the innocent victims to their pre-charbroiled state, while offering sage McNuggets of advice like, you can now watch the World Series in the comfort of your own home on the new Sony Telethon 3D Plasma wall model.

Climax enfolds in the unlikely guise of Times Squares “Grey McDonalds”—for Airbender has had only to travel 3 blocks of location shooting to 3D in and out of years 2001, 2004, 2112 (Rush), and 1963 Dallas. Spoiler Alert! Satisfying twist ending with truffle oil and portabella mushrooms. Special features include featurette and making of featurette featurette, Also, interactive “script machine” let’s you dictate the dialogue for subjectivity, and patented “The Future Has Many Paths” ending dictator, lets you watch pic over 144 times with unique results. Gimmick didn’t work with Clue: The Motion Picture because it’s always Colonel Mustard, but here the murderer is never the Airbender, and gimmick proves pointless. One criticism: Making Of Featurettes are not in 3D. Note: special features assume pic will garner DVD release. More likely strategy, keep in theaters indefinitely and milk box office like a treacherous snake.

I never lied to you except for that one night.

And that time at the chicken restaurant. And that day we were arrested for standing up for what we believed in. And on that plane to Arizona. And in the back seat with the hitchhiker. And after that Solstice party at Never-Never-Land. And at that horrible dinner at Steve and Irene's. And on top of "Old Smokey." And during that aborted shopping trip to T.J.Maxx. And tethered to that octopus. And when we had that argument about "The Cook The Thief His Wife and Her Lover." And in line at "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers." And in the submerged Cooper Mini art thing. And over Dr. Zinn's dumplings at the Golden Palace. And during the six years of couple's counseling. And on the vacation to Mazatlan. And during the World Cup. And at the infamous dinner at my pervert Uncle Snack's houseboat. And at the Cheesecake Factory. And during our cross country ordeal. And at the endless Burning Man weekend. And at confession. And in the morning. And in Guru Dave's hottub. And on the tandem bike. And the whole time we read "The Corrections" together. And in email. And in front of the neighbors' kids. And under the boardwalk. And down by the river. And over the hills. And through the night. And at high noon. And with a straight face. And wearing a hat. And eating Hole-In-One donuts. And about your weight. And about my exes. And about my feelings. And about lying about that one night.

The Silence of the Vuvuzelas

The sports world will never be the same since the 2010 Fifi World Cup introduced the auditory excitement to the world. Tried watching the British open, and even the wind couldn't hide the lack of vuvuzela excitement, nor could cries of, "Get it in the hole."

I for one will support the promotion of the crazy plastic horn at American events from now forth. Flushing Meadows this Labor Day will be the test case of stateside vuvu-prowess. Don't let the authorities ban the horn, we have First Amendment rights here in the United States of America. I'm no lawyer, but I believe it covers expressions of the horn.

Friendly's Grilled Cheese BurgerMelt

Just in case you're the last person on Earth to hear about the sandwich everybody's talkin' 'bout, the new Friendly's Grilled Cheese BurgerMelt is an ingenious invention: it's like a regular hamburger, but instead of having a bun it utilizes a grilled cheese sandwich instead of the bottom half of the bun and a grilled cheese sandwich for the top half of the bun. If you can picture that. If you can't, seeing how you're reading THIS online, try searching for the above named sandwich and you'll be rewarded with images galore. Make sure you have your search settings on "safe search OFF," and watch out if you're doing it in a public library; patrons have been known to be ejected for less.

It should be pointed out that Friendly's didn't invent this sandwich; records can be located of precisely similar sandwiches with names such as: "The Fatty Melt" and "The Chubby Melt" and "Fat Fuck Frank's LiteLunch." But Friendly's should be commended, in spite of them being reprehensible in every way imaginable, for bringing this culinary artwork to the masses. Crybabies all across cyberville will complain about calories and clogged arteries, but this sandwich is really pretty mild compared with what's out there.

It made me think of Akron, Ohio's Corral Restaurant, still open last I heard, which boasts a sandwich called "The NiteMare." To the best of my memory, it's a standard cheeseburger with pickles, tomato, and all that, but also plenty of onions, or was it onion RINGS... or both?! Wait, I'm not done. The NiteMare also contains some kind of lunch meat ham, or bologna! Wait, I'm not done. The real genius of this sandwich is that it ALSO contains a fried egg!

Of course, there will always be bigger and bigger, to the point of absurdity and impossibility. Sure, if you WANT to, you could put a side of beef between two large deluxe stuffed pizzas and call that a really big sandwich. But who are we fooling? A sandwich should be something that one person eats during one meal, can hold in both hands, and can get your mouth around. The nice thing about the Grilled Cheese BurgerMelt is that it pushes boundaries, but is still reasonable.

The real exciting thing about this sandwich is the way it alters reality and creates a wrinkle in the universe. It's as if you had, for instance, a book in which the cover was also a book, or perhaps pages placed between two books. It's still a book... but also something more. And when you think about it, what's stopping you from infinity? Imagine a hamburger, with, instead of a bun, has grilled cheese sandwhichs as buns, but each of those grilled cheese sandwiches have, instead of bread, cheese burgers on either side of the melted cheese, and each of those cheeseburgers have, instead of buns, bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches... and on and on into total insanity.

The one criticism of this product is its name, which even NOW I can't remember. It's a hard name to care about, or indeed, remember. Let's start a letter writing campaign to Friendly's with suggestions of what else they might call this new sandwich. Go nuts and think of your own, mail it in to the home office, and if they don't change it, boycott them! Anyway, here are some ideas: The Crazy Burger; The Lead Blanket; Fried Heaven; Hercules Burger; Threefer One; The LeBron; The Sophisticated Executive; The Aristocrat.

Exclusive: LeBron to Knicks!

After last minute wheelings and dealings, feints in the direction of a half dozen cities—some, even, without NBA franchises—and a late night heart to heart with rival Kobe Bryant over waffles at a 24hour Johnnie's Family Restaurant in Phoenix, LeBron James has announced that he will sign with the New York Knickerbockers for the 2010/2011 NBA season and possibly beyond, a source told The Moss Problem at the less than necessary coat check of Manhattan's 21 Club.

World Cup 2010 Comprehensive Update

"Enough with the bloody BEE-HORNS!!"

Live Coverage: Cote d'Ivoire vs. Brazil!

Cote d'Ivoire wearing green and Brazil in Yellow. 0 - 0 tie for a long time. I'm looking in the refrigerator and Brazil scores! Halftime. No one has EVER come back to beat Brazil when they're leading at halftime, in the history of the WORLD.

That funny sound isn't because of cheap microphones, as once suggested, but because every single person in the stadium is blowing on a plastic horn called a vuvuzela. If you close your eyes, I guess, you could imagine it's New Years. At least it's not bagpipes! Some people absolutely freak out because of the vuvuzelas. They say because it sounds like a swarm of killer bees. There are two types of people, I've found. Those who enjoy the vuvuzela and those who despise it. Which are you? Maybe American sports fans, particularly football, should adopt the vuvuzelas at their contests! One positive it would have is that while you've got that thing in your mouth you're not downing quarts of beer and hotdogs. So there is an upside, healthwise. Though it's probably not good for the hearing. Plus, I'd bet Americans would make a battery-powered version of the vuvuzela so that they could continue to drink beer and eat hotdogs. And those might be even louder. I'm sorry I mentioned it!

Now it's the second half. Brazil scores again! And again! Finally Ivory Coast scores. Now it's a game! But then fights break out. An old-fashioned Donnybrook. Kaka gets a red card! "Caca" yell the Brazilian players at the officials. Where's the instant replay? Answer: Soccer hasn't yet been RUINED by instant replay, like American sports. Though guys laying all over the field like it's a Civil War reenactment isn't a very pretty sight, either. Is it THAT rough out there? Then get some pads. Or are they just flopping like a bunch of trout? If that's that case, then there really is no hope. Look, I can't even get up to get a beer until halftime and I already missed four goals, so while I'm sitting here, I expect to see action, not a bunch of guys writhing in pain. And if it's fake, well, that's the other thing that's ruined American sports: bad acting, or good acting... in a word: acting. Save it for the dinner theatre, guys.

Your World Cup Headquarters

"The Moss Problem" is YOUR World Cup Headquarters!

Check back every five minutes for complete up-to-date 2010 World Cup news, scores, predictions, and analysis. Our complete staff of soccer enthusiasts will tell you who is going win and why, and then examine the results in meticulous depth.

Tired of watching your lo-def TV coverage? Do you wonder why it sounds like you're listening to it through a metal vacuum cleaner extension? We at "The Moss Problem" LOVE that sound. We've found that you can listen to reruns of "Win, Lose, or Draw" down a metal vacuum cleaner extension and it has the same energy and excitement of World Cup soccer!

Check back for recaps and analysis, interesting anecdotes, and insider human interest stories about recent match-ups.

Today's conservative prediction (though please don't hold us accountable when gambling):

USA - 34
England - 28

Zombies In The Park!

ZOMBIES IN THE PARK (2010)

Director: James Cameron

Writers: Douglas Coupland, Diablo Cody, Shane Black

Cast:
Chazz Palmintari — Eddie
Jamie Foxx — The Professor
Keira Knightley — Peaches
Lindsay Lohan — Mrs. Pemberton
Robert Downey Jr. — Mr. Pemberton
Sarah Wayne Callies — Laurie
Christopher Walken — Dr. Love
Will Geer — Pritchard
Mickey Rooney — Mr. Yunioshi
Terry-Thomas — Bobby

Tagline:
Save our parks!

Plot:
A seemingly peaceful city park is transformed into a cauldron of horror when behind every tree and bush comes jumping out suddenly and without warning a bloodthirsty zombie or two.

There's a Guy Who Knows How to Dress

It's no secret that I am totally in love with Bob Costas. I mean, I actually find myself -- occasionally -- watching SPORTS -- just because of him. I'd like to cure myself of this obsession, but when I see him -- here at the Winter Olympics -- wearing something like this most awesome suit jacket, shirt, and tie combination I've ever seen on a TV commentator -- it only makes my admiration stronger, my obsession deeper, and my love more complex. I think I love the suit even more than I love Bob.

LOVE MY WAY

Dunkin' Donuts "Haunchies"

I’m excited by a new product that showed up literally on my doorstep today (well, I was buying coffee on my way to work and saw an ad for it). I’m afraid it might fail, however, due to lack of conviction by the parent company, and everyone else involved, it seems. The ad was small and washed out, with a terrible picture. Food photography is an art, but that doesn’t mean you can just close your eyes and snap the picture. A photograph of a delicious looking plate of spaghetti, for instance, is not spaghetti at all—but I’m completely off the subject.

I’m talking about new DUNKIN’ DONUTS “HAUNCHIES”—bite sized snacks for when you’re too busy for a whole donut, I guess. The existing product copy says: “It’s not a donut… and they’re not holes—new Dunkin’ Donuts Haunchies—for when you’re on the go.” I kind of like the off rhyme, but generally I find this pretty awkward and poorly written. I’m going to try my hand at writing a new ad, and then maybe try some of the Haunchies themselves, myself—see, for some reason everything about this product seems to come out awkwardly! Well, let’s give it a try:

“When is a donut hole not a donut hole? When it’s a CHAIR! That’s a joke! To soften you up to the new, bite-size(ed) snack from Dunkin’ Donuts, called The Haunchie! Though it shouldn’t take much softening, really—The Haunchie is soft, and as delicious as it looks. More delicious, really. And sugar-coating isn’t necessary—The Haunchie already took care of that. It’s not a donut, and it’s not a hole. Well, a donut hole isn’t really a hole, is it? There’s something to think about. When is a donut hole not a donut? When it’s the NEW DUNKIN’ DONUTS HAUNCHY. Or Haunchies, when it’s plural."

IT’s harder than it looks, this advertising business. Maybe I should leave it for the professionals. But really, I think this Haunchy, or Haunchies, is, or are, just a hard product to deal with. Awkward, and kind of messy. But that’s probably what they thought about hot dogs when they were first invented, and look where hot dogs are today!

Why I Love (Touchdown) Jesus

In case it’s not obvious, that title is meant to be sarcastic. I love Jesus, okay? But I am not a fan of the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, because as a college football fan without cable TV or ESPN, I’ve been forced to endure their crappy teams and boring games week after week on broadcast TV for years, while the games I wanted to see were not shown. But then, when a journalist has to start out by pointing out his sarcasm, she can’t really complain about “crappy.” I’d advise you to stop reading this right now and do something more productive!

The final play of the Texas Nebraska game—Colt McCoy loses his mind, takes way too long and sails the ball out of bounds, really wanting that touchdown, but settling on setting up a field goal—but he’s taken too long—the game is over—Nebraska wins! Except then they did a review, and because the ball hit a railing—on someone’s condo or something—rich people bullshit encroaching the field—rather than sailing harmlessly to the ground—they decided the clock should stop at that point, and put a second on the clock—time enough for Texas to kick a game winning field goal. It’s kind of like those situations in baseball where an outfielder is going to catch a ball, and a fan reaches out of the stands and catches it first. I’ve heard they’re considering, in struggling markets, setting up some four star restaurant tables right in the outfield so wealthy fans can have dinner there and further interfere with the game. You couldn’t really do that with football, but what’s with this “official review” madness? What’s next? Why not have an official video review after every single play in football? The game can last 12 hours, and there will be plenty of room for commercials.

Why is this important, really? Because if they didn’t do the review, or that structure wasn’t there, and the ball hits the ground, Nebraska wins the game, and Texas doesn’t go to the National Championship game. Instead, Cincinnati rightly goes to the championship game, and Brian Kelly, instead of taking the Notre Dame job, stays at Cincinnati. Bob Stoops takes the Notre Dame coaching job, and they go 3 and 9, 6 and 6, and 4 and 8 in the next three years before he’s fired and then Brian Kelly eventually gets the Notre Dame job. The Touchdown Jesus works in mysterious ways.

Advertising Awards 2009

Lauren found a dream on her laptop.

Wendy's New Sweet & Spicy Asian Chicken

The flight to the mountaintop thwarted by starvation and disease, Pamela Anderson nude and Jennifer Love Hewit nude. A Botticelli nude greeted us with the first bite, and again and again memories persisted. We entered the valley with great trepidation and made our way among the vast and treacherous footholds of wisdom, we ripped the top off of the henhouse and our eyes were met my flightless birds also songless, though bathed in riches, saffron and rubies. Alyssia Milano nude,Pamala Hewit nude, slithering on the East side of the mountain, melted by early summer runoff and fermenting ecstasies Each bite was met with full shock and discovery of contradictions, sweet and sour, hot and not-so-hot, flavorful and tasteless, inexorable and uxorious, limber and lumber, the chimps set sail. Trapped inside a four foot square cell for the winter with Camoran Diaz nude we hibernated like the ducks and geese, mewwing, and purring, dreaming of a past when fangs and claws ripped flesh from the earth and the durian and the christian. David Thomas would not love this, head of the boy scouts of America, head of PereUbu, head of the severed. The Francis Bacon hallucination hanging in the trees at the edge of the park, glowing orange, swallowing up all around it.

New Mountain Dew VolTage

I just saw this in the store and immediately bought it because, for one, it's NEW, and also because I was attracted to the light blue color of the liquid itself. I will buy any and all food that is the color blue... at least once. As with all new products, and especially energy drinks, I expected the worst, but I was pleasantly surprised that it has a pleasant flavor for an artificially flavored soft drink. Though the word “soft” is hardly appropriate for highly caffeinated Mountain Dew of any variety, except for Caffeine-Free Mountain Dew. The word for that is: pointless.

Apparently they had a contest to pick the new flavor in a national contest called "Dewmocracy" — claiming that it was created by DEW drinkers, which of course isn't true. But I guess they did offer three possibilities, and had a vote... though I'm skeptical about the fairness of the process, as DEW drinkers are the kind of people who will compulsively vote like a thousand times. Letting DEW drinkers pick anything is a scary idea; if they were the only ones voting for president... I don't want to think about it. Can you picture: President David Allan Coe?

The good news is that this stuff is not only drinkable, it's pretty darn good. No identifiable flavor really: I'd call it blue, or artificial blue flavor. There is a small amount of ginseng, supposedly, but don't count on it being any more than would sit comfortably on the head of a pin. There is brominated vegetable oil, which all the good soft drinks contain. And the best, and most surprising thing, it's not too sweet! I don't know how THAT happened, but it's a welcome "DEW-velopment." Though, for my taste, it could be less sweet still. And don't worry, there is still enough caffeine and sugar to give you a hefty lift, before dropping you about a half hour later like a baby from the greasy fingers of a bad, crack-head boyfriend. But then you buy more, and more, and more. It hasn't been determined yet, at press time, if it makes you pee blue.

Open letter from Anthony Franciosa to Moss Problem writers

I had my accountant look over the books for The Moss Problem and he tells me we are in serious financial trouble. As many of you know, it has long been my preference to let people motivate and govern themselves while I simply fulfill my roll as sage, guidance counselor, and small town traffic cop. But with the recent upheavals in the economy, I, and indeed WE, no longer have the luxury to lackadaisically lollygag, loaf, and fuck around, and get paid for it. I realize that your writers’ salary isn’t much, but take a look around you! Many fine, longstanding journalists at publications more formidable and with a greater advertising base than this one have been shown the door and are now working as baristas and bike messengers. Maybe I let you people slide for too long, and you haven’t had the benefit of fear or hunger to motivate you. Well, sorry to say, things are gonna change, baby.

Some of you haven’t written a single article IN THE PAST YEAR. We cannot allow this kind of sloth to continue if we’re going to compete with the big boys. You people are cashing your paychecks—for what? To grace our contributor list? Readers aren’t stupid; when they see no new articles appearing in our pages, it means only one thing to them: no new articles. Soon, they will look elsewhere for news and intellectual stimulation. I really don’t want to have to let any of you go, but if things don’t change I will soon be forced to make cuts. I will be forced to trim, and even, though I hate to say it, perform surgery without anesthetic. And finally, I will be forced, though against my aesthetic judgment and warmer feelings, to separate the wheat from the chaff.

From today on we must have changes. Big changes. If you writers aren’t going to come up with articles, I will have no choice but to cease calling you writers. I will call you deadbeats. Unless one of your brilliant postings is titled: “An open letter to Anthony Franciosa: Why I Should Continue To Get Paid Even Though I Make No Contributions To The Moss Problem." Well, here it is. I will just cease to pay you, that’s all. You can go off and write for Yelp, for all I care. And it has come to my attention that some of you already do. Please explain THAT to me.

From this day forth, writers, don’t even bother coming into the office unless you plan to leave copy on my desk. And you’re going to have to spell-check it yourself, because the first ones to go are our copy editors and fact checkers. That is, after the accountant, who I really didn’t need to tell me we’re in deep financial shit. At any rate, hear me out: If you aren’t coming to the office with an idea and some inspiration, don’t bother to come in at all. If you aren’t coming into the office operating at 110%, don’t bother to come in at all. We must look at every day like it is the Superbowl, but even more than that, the Superbowl of The Future, where the losing team gets euthanized, carved up, and barbequed at post-game tailgate parties. In short, if you are not coming into the office to PERFORM, stay at home and do whatever the hell it is that writers do when they’re at home. Procrastinating is my best guess.

With all due respect and no offense intended,

Anthony Franciosa

Broadcast Sports and I Won't Last A Day Without You

Little by little, free broadcast sports coverage is being taken away from the poorest segments of the Untied States population, and it looks like by the time we get through these dreadful single digit years, if you don't pay for cable TV sports specific networks, you will be shitouttaluck. I don't even care to look into digital broadcasting implications, as obvious as it is that all technological advancements are mostly about wringing even more money out of the masses of barely-able-to-afford-anything-anymore, especially food. But let's just say you decide to get by without food and want to be a sports fan. If you live in a city you can still go to a baseball game (as long as you're not in Boston), though don't pick that day to resume your diet, because a hotdog is $15 and a bottle of water is $5. You could save all year and maybe afford an NFL game, but pro basketball has long been affordable only to corporations. If you happen to have a TV, and actually LIKE Notre Dame, you can watch college football. By early next decade, however, the bowl games will be on cable only, and the Final Four are sure to follow that trend. If you have no TV, like me, you won't have to deal with all that digital conversion bullshit, but say you want to find some sports on the AM radio, like in the old days? Forget it!—though you may be lucky and find some so-called Christian bullshit that is so far out even Christians can't stomach it. Most of radio is now, however—as is most of broadcast TV—infomercials—and if you happen to be INSANE and enjoy infomercials, you must now endure commercials during your infomercials. There was a brief window where the Internet seemed like nirvana for sports fans, and indeed these days it's the only place I can find anything at all, but the golden age is over, and soon the Internet will be so gummed up with information gathering robots and animated commercials that it won't work at all. It's more or less there already. You can still get a newspaper, of course, if you have the patience to page through advertisements for the Internet to finally find a poorly written, uninspired article. I was thinking—what IS the opiate of the masses anymore? Is there still $1.50 a six pack beer?—because you sure can't afford cigarettes, taxed as they are in order to pay for the sports arenas that only the rich can afford to visit. What if they decide to tax lottery tickets, someone asked me, and they go up in price like cigarettes? Lottery tickets are ALREADY tax, I reassured them, the rich finding yet another way to tax the poor. I'm sitting here on a grimy Saturday wondering exactly how much it will take before The Revolution, or will there be no Revolution? If there is none, does it mean that the powerful have so totally learned how to control the not-powerful, that they have completely enslaved the—with little, malfunctioning electrical devices, to play with, and direct their anger towards—and the terror of the disappearance of all civil rights? Or are the powerless sitting back and waiting, doing the only subversive thing left that costs nearly nothing, reading books? My pessimism answered that question as you might imagine, and I found it necessary to take refuge in the only drug I have left to me, the Carpenters. Or more specifically, the song "I Won't Last A Day Without You." That song is so far beyond "one day at a time"-- it is pretty much a surrender of existence-- the only thing left is a glimmer of something once idealized as love. I mean, it's probably not even about another person-- it sounds like it could be an ode to a magical antidepressant drug, or maybe a commercial for a cheap, canned cocktail. I could dedicate my life to this song; maybe I have. It is the most compelling pop song ever written, and has the perfect verse and chorus combination, like a punch to the gut followed by punch to the face. But then, most weirdly is that horrible bridge, unimaginable, bad, and out of place--you know, "touch me and I end up singing"-- it's so wrong that it always makes me think about "improper" touching, if you know what I'm saying. I guess you could say it's like the thorn on a rose, but still, a thorn is one thing-- you don't see a human turd on a rose. And then there's that line, "When there's no getting over that rainbow," which I know is meant to mean when it's impossible to reach that world “somewhere over the rainbow,” but to me has always had a different meaning. To me, "no getting over that rainbow" means not getting over, as in not dealing with, not coming to terms with. It's like they're singing, “when you can't really find a way to deal with that rainbow, when you can't come to terms with it.” That's what makes this song, to me, magical, and it's exactly the best example I can come up with of how there might be a glimmer of hope in this fucked up, fucked up, fucked up beyond belief, world.

Something I Thought I'd Never See

Here I was in New York City, walking around, and then I see this sign on a corner store that shocked me. It was an advertisement for Marlboro, and it said: "Special Price - $9.00!" Special price? $9.00?!? Okay, so I've been living under a rock. But still... it's shocking.

Has the psychology of the cigarette smoker changed considerably now that his product has doubled, tripled, quadrupled... what do call it when something has elevated TEN times? Is is still possible to "bum" a cigarette? Is anyone at all, under these dire economic conditions, going to START smoking?

I don't love cigarettes, or smoking, or tobacco companies, or even the idea of smoking. I haven't for a long time. But this reminds me of that scene in Soylent Green where the guy has a jar of strawberry preserves and explains that cost $50!

New Postage Stamp: Stumblebums

(no image available) I am excited about the new postage stamps: famous stumblebums in US history. I understand that the series will include five different, famous stumblebums dating from the late 19th century to the present day. The images will be nostalgic, slightly comic renditions depicted by a notable contemporary artist, not yet announced. There are rumors that they are being drawn by Daniel Clowes, but that is not confirmed. If anyone has information about the artist, or those being "honored" by the stamps, please comment here!

Jonathan Lethem's website

I was looking at the main page of Jonathan Lethem's website,
which reloads every 20 seconds with a new, entertaining image,
when some music came on. It sounded kind of like David Bowie, though I don't think it was.
It was a modern sounding pop song, which I didn't like very much, but it really seemed to work with the images, even though nothing matched up or anything.

I happened to have another tab open to a sports website, and little did I know an ad came up and that was actually where the music was coming from! Not from Jonathan Lethem's website at all. (I don't know why that happens-- how you can have stuff opened in multiple tabs and the music for all of them will play at the same time.) Anyway, Lethem might consider adding some music to the experience. In case you want to try to recreate this phenomenon in your own home, the ad was for the Outback Steakhouse.

Yahoo: From "free email" to EMAIL FREE

Yahoo was my very first email, and I'm still using the first email address I've ever had. But recently they changed to "new" Yahoo, which is, of course, supposed to be better, but, of course, it isn't. This is no surprise, of course, and I realize that they have done this so that they can support ads better. After all it doesn't cost anything. But there is an option to get a pay version which doesn't have the ads. Not merely annoying, the ads slow things down and cause it to crash...

What am I saying here? Am I on drugs? I'm trying to rationalize all this calmly, I sound like some kind of demented, brainwashed Yahoo salesman or something. What it comes down to is that we had a completely reasonable, working, free email, and they made some corporate and technical decision to SCREW US ALL. It no longer works. It's no good. On a scale of one to ten it gets MINUS ONE MILLION. It's a headache and a nightmare. Yahoo is now the worst piece of shit on planet Feces.

But there is a silver lining! As there always is. This entire fiasco has made me see how much I am dependent on my email. When I quit smoking back in the spring of 2008 I thought I was free of drugs and the iron grip of addiction. But no. I was still addicted to this email and didn't know it. But this incredibly lame development has made see how bad off I was, and now I am ready to begin my new life: email free.

Grape Soda

In times such as these, nothing satisfies me like a grape soda. I was thinking of proposing the Nobel Prize to the chemistry team who invented artificial grape flavor, back in the Twentieth Century. You cannot scoff at a good artificial flavor. Take, for instance, artificial vanilla... please! I cannot deal with it, eat it, or even smell it in a candle or car air freshener. It gives me a migraine! The difference between real vanilla and artificial vanilla is like the difference between diners and McDonalds, between fresh vegetables and bunched up wet toilet paper in a public toilet, between Venice and cheap piece of shit Venetian blinds that fall down whenever you open or close them.

I was going to suggest that the flavor of grape soda somehow captures the essence of real grape, but it is of course nothing like real grape. What it is, artificial grape flavor, and grape soda, is an amazing flavor all of its own, sublime in its own way. Also, it always reminds me of the scene in "The French Connection" where Gene Hackman is trying to follow the guy in the subway and tries to be inconspicuous by stopping at a vendor, where he says, "Get a grape drink?"

Solar Moss

Northern Toilet Paper

My favorite toilet paper doesn't have perforations. No, my favorite toilet paper is free toilet paper. But I don't need the perforations. Northern toilet paper, which is quite pricey due to its softness, has perforations running lengthwise, down the roll! I mean, like, from beginning to end. Why is this? Because when you try to tear off a piece to use it, it tears lengthwise, which is maddening.

I remember a thing in Mad Magazine when I was kid, a cartoon about "planned obsolescence" which was the first time I'd ever heard of that concept. It's funny-- at the time I thought it something more in the mind of the consumer. It always seems like that malfunction must be built in. I didn't realize or actually want to believe, at that young age, that that is the way things work. Well, I guess they used to hide it. Now they just put obvious perforations right through the roll, for no apparent reason, figuring that people are too cynical, distracted, braindead, and depressed to really care. They're probably right.