The Czech Republic

...should I send it to the taxidermist to have it stuffed?

All Asian gangs look alike to me.

I went to bed this morning around 2.30 a.m., I believe. At least that's how I remember it. Anyway, there have been some nasty thunderstorms around, and the thunder roused me from my sleep about 15 minutes ago. Unable to fall back asleep, I figured I'd pass the time the best way I know, by playing a little MVP Baseball before I pack up the video games and all of that for college. As I approach the makeshift entertainment center I've assembled in my bedroom here, I notice an unpleasant burning smell, the kind you get when dust is hot. You know the stench. I turn on the TV, and there's no TV that really comes on: all but one solitary blue line down the middle, all black, lifeless, devoid of light-shooting goodness. I jiggle some cords, I smack the sides, I give it a few minutes to pull itself together. No luck. I try changing the channels. I see the line of light change, but still, no picture. It's letterboxed to the max. Since I had noticed before that the top of the screen was beginning to go black and sort of fold itself over the next part down, I faced the inevitable: my television was dead. My television has a history that precedes my own. It's a JVC, twenty-five marvelous inches from the upper left to the lower right. My family bought this television when we got our very first house in downtown Arlington Heights: May of 1986. Five months later, I was born, and the TV and I would develop a long-lasting bond. A few years later, we moved to a different neighborhood, and the television came along. It was in this house of my formative years that the friendship between the television and I was truly established. My earliest memories of lounging date back to when game shows were on all afternoon, on the USA Network. This was 1990, back when Monday Night Raw was still "Prime Time Wrestling." On days when I was off from preschool, at noon, I would head to my family room (at the time quite 70s/80s with green shag and rich dark paneling) to settle in for Chain Reaction, Name That Tune, Press Your Luck, and both the $25,000 AND $100,000 Pyramids. They sound stupid, but I developed important skills: song recognition, vocabulary expansion, and while there's nothing to gain from Press Your Luck, you gotta love that show. Big bucks no Whammies STOP! Classic. I watched a lot of Nickelodeon, too. You Can't Do That On Television, Pete & Pete, Ren & Stimpy, Rocko's Modern Life, all the great shows. I graduated to The Simpsons, Seinfeld, and Mystery Science Theater 3000 (Joel years) on that TV, in that family room. Along the way, we replaced the carpet to a contemporary off-white and painted the paneling white as well, but the electronic equipment needed no replacement or modernizing. In 1996, circumstances brought us out of Arlington Heights and into Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, a tourist trap on the WI-IL state line. I'm close enough to walk or bike back to the state, and an hour away from "home," but it hasn't been the same, and I still consider myself an Illinoisan at heart, and unfortunately, cannot use my great stretches of time spent back there to establish residency and deal with their DMV, which is reportedly less sucky than mine. But anyhow, the old JVC would come to stay in our new family room, where I watched my first Monday Night Raw (battle royal for IC title shot and Paul Bearer's justification on turning on Undertaker), Steve Kerr's shot sink the Utah Jazz the first time around, Jordan's the second, and countless other programs. In 2001, we began to notice the top of the screen was beginning to go somewhat dark. It was a tough thing to do, but we drove to the friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart and picked up a bigger, clearer, snazzier television, with built-in program guide and all. The old model would be exiled to the basement, where all household things go to die. Not one to see a 25" screen go to waste, I tried to revitalize the basement into a cool hangout for my friends, centered around an entertainment center featuring the TV, a stereo, and three video game consoles. Though I painted the walls and tried to set things up, it was cold as a witch's teat down there, smelled like cat shit, and wasn't very cool. We go to other people's houses now instead of mine. By fall of 2001, not content with my small screen upstairs in the bedroom, and not content with the freezing stinky hangout, I merged my two rooms into one, taking the fun stuff from the basement up two flights of stairs to my room, where I now had everything I needed to theoretically never exit the room. That old television had seen a lot up to this point. But it was now that I introduced it to fare such as The Godfather, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and The Larry Sanders Show, all things much too mature for me in the prior years. Now a bedroom accessory rather than family room fixture, it would serve as my display for the video games as well. From then until now, the picture has slowly deteriorated, though I've tried to ignore it andwatch my show and play my games regardless. I've tried to kid myself into thinking I could squeeze a few more years out of the sucker, but damn, it's older than me, and for a television, it's seen a LOT of use. Back in the old house, to make sure nobody would rob the house, we'd put the TV on something stupid like QVC or a similar channel for the duration of our absence. Now "Today's Special Value" is phosphor-burnt into the lower-left corner of the screen. I can still see it when the TV is off. The plan had been to bring the Big Unit with me to my dorm on Wednesday. But as I return to Illinois, with my family soon to follow as we prepare the house for sale, it appears the old box won't be making the trip back. It'll go out with the rest of the garbage next Monday morning, and I won't be there to see it go. Here's to you, old television. You've been recreational, informative, comedic, dramatic, and omnipresent. Thanks for 17 years of service.

Nothing ever goes right for poor Randy. HHH should make him wear a sign that says "I Steal Belts From Stable Leaders" or something. That reminds me: parents be damned, Curb Your Enthusiasm Volumes 1 and 2 go with me to school. Godfather too. I'm raiding the DVD shelves.

Sex.

Just show them your mighty American penis and they'll run the other way.

Cow-tipping

Hey guys, sorry about the Q&A. Technical difficulties never get you anywhere. And that's a lesson that USA Basketball could learn! They should clean up their act. I'm having a great time in Athens. Europe is a beautiful place, and I must say, the Greeks are known for their food, for good reason. But one of the best things about Athens is the clubbing. Every place is a party here. I went up to a girl and I said to her in my most charming and debonair voice, affirming the lyrics that pulsed throughout the club: "It can't just be intellectual. The way I feel is sexual, when you're next to me." It pains me to read that Phish broke up. I wish I could've been up in Vermont for their last concert, surely one of the greatest of all time. It's the Green Mountain State, all right. Time for breakfast. Back with more about the stunning loss to Puerto Rico. I'll break it all down.

Mid 90s grunge, mid 90s dance, I want it all back. Give me Soundgarden and Real McCoy. Pearl Jam and Ghosttown DJs. Alice in Chains, and HADDAFUCKINGWAY!

So you're telling me I auditioned at Guitarcenter to take Wes's spot, then the auditions turn out to be a scam to steal licks from guitarists, and THEN you tell me he ends up back in the band? What a country!

I was worried this had to do with Incandenza dropping the Eyeball Kid account and going back to the old one.

My prognosis for this OAORaw was "Gay insinuations get me suspended," not "enshrined to classics."

What about the batter(s) getting hit by the pitch(es) to load the bases? No Farnsworth appearance is complete without it.

I like that when I return to OAORaw, people clamor for classic. Makes me feel good, which hasn't happened muich with CWM always hurting my feelings.

Now here's a guy who knows how it is, Godfather-style beatings need an increased presence in WWE>

HHH is the face in this.,

All I can say is that Randy is a douche. Douche douche douche.

Douche! Douche! Douche! Douche! -HHH

Was it just me or did Flair's punches miss by miles?

YES HHH gives me double the orgasms that Randy did anyway

God this is getting REALLY QUEER

I just came!

Yuna stopped liking Stevie Richards, and hence, wrestling. I bet she wasn't that hot anyway.

To say nothing about TSM gayin' it up