I listened to the following song 16 straight times today:



It turns out that for the first six or seven listens, the enjoyment gained from listening to Just a Friend trends upward. Around the seventh or eight listen, however, the enjoyment begins to lessen, as familiarity and boredom set in. Nevertheless, for that perseverent listener who does not allow boredom to dissuade him or her, the song really begins to shine around the thirteenth or fourteenth listen, as the true transcendent genius of Biz Markie really begins to shine through. You can see what I'm talking about in this highly scientific graph I have enclosed below (yes, that's right a video and an image in the same post: all fear my mad internetting skills):

Anyway, I do love this song, both because it has some incredibly offensive alternative lyrics that I most certainly will not be posting here, and because Biz Markie wears an ND sweatshirt in this video. And you know that I'm always going to love any rapper who is a fan of Notre Dame, especially one as street-tough and thugnasty as Biz Markie.

A Question

Do you think there are some cultures out there that eat manatees? Because I don't know why, but I get the feeling that manatee meat would be quite succulent.

Remember, how, like when you were a kid, you would have your action figures, and you would have like the regular He-Man and also, like another special He-Man that would be like Battle Armor He-Man or the He-Man that made battle noises when you pressed buttons, but you're a kid so you don't realize that those two action figures represent the same character, so whenever you're playing you always have like two or three versions of He-Man and Skeletor, and that totally screws up everything, so nothing ends up making any sense in the story that you are trying to play out?

Kids are pretty stupid.

Random Thoughts

Here's some random thoughts of mine:

• *It's looking like the most likely presidential matchup for this fall is going to McCain vs. Obama. I am very thrilled at this outcome. Being the pessimist that I am, I was naturally certain that the race would be Huckabee vs. Clinton. McCain vs. Obama, though, is a much better alternative. It will be a refreshing change of pace to watch a race between these two men, whom I both respect. Of course, they will proceed to spend the next eight months spending millions of dollars to badmouth the other one, distort their opinions, or use the lowest common denominator, to get people to vote for them, but hey, at least I respected them before this entire dirty political process began.

• *I've always been impressed with the creativity coming out of the inner city when it comes to naming children. All one has to do is peruse a football roster at most any SEC school to see that new and interesting names are popping up every day. That said, I think we can do more. Why limit ourselves to only the 26 letters of the alphabet? I predict the next new fad is going to be inserting numbers into names. Are you going to tell me that 4'Kwando or La3teeus don't sound like perfect wide receiver names in the next couple of years?

• *It's been several months, and I still don't know if replacing Angel Pagan with a Japanese guy named Fukudome is increasing or decreasing the awesome name factor on the Cubs.

• *I will not leave my feet with this current ND basketball team. I will not leave my feet with this current ND basketball team. I will not leave my feet with this current ND basketball team. Aw, screw it: who wants to buy Final Four tickets with me?
  

All right, that's all I have for right now. I would probably have had more to write about, but it took me the better part of forty-five minutes attempting to remember what the html code for bullets was. They do look pretty impressive, though, don't they?

Aw, the joys of drunken iTunes purchases. I buy the songs late at night, add them to my iPod, and then completely forget about them until they come up on shuffle two to three years later. Here's the one I just heard today.



There's not really any point to this post except to say, "Hey, remember that song?" Although I do feel Sisquo worked better within the confines of Dru Hill than as a solo artist. However, the man obviously felt that within the group he would never have the artistic freedom to fully explore those issues closest to the man's heart, namely thongs and, um, dump trucks.

Fuck snow

Fuck the fucked-up fucking fuckload of snow that we miserable fucks have been fucking getting lately. Fuck!

And this is coming from someone who understands the value of having some snow. I've always found it hard to trust southerners. And it's not because of the inbreeding, or the incessant love of overalls, or the fascination with livestock, or the lack of teeth, or that whole seceding from the Union thing (having written that sentence, I was slightly worried about offending any southerners who came across this blog, until I realized that southerners, in fact, can't read).

No, the reason I've always had a distrust of the South is because they don't suffer nearly enough through winters. Up north we suffer yearly. The first snow always arrives too soon, cutting short our fall. Then it is all sure to melt away before Christmas, and we bitch about how we have to put up with snow all winter long except for the one day of the year we want it. Then in January the weather turns cold and snowy. Then in February the weather turns even colder and snowier (another thing, fuck that groundhog: he brings nothing but false hope). And sure, eventually, around the end of May, the snow finally recedes and we actually have some decent weather. But up north we know it is only a brief reprieve from the soul-sucking desolation of northern winters. Every warm second is to be enjoyed, but it is also to be mourned, for it brings us one second closer to the winter. Sure, it's a pretty depressing existence, but that's how weather is supposed to be.

But southerners don't have to worry about any of that. The worst they get is that maybe it drops down to 50 and they have to spring for a light jacket. They don't understand the obsessive paranoia that three straight months of cloudiness and snow can do to a mind. That much happiness in one group of people is not natural.

Even understanding that a little meteorological misery can be good for one's soul, this year has gone too fucking far. I kill my back shoveling the driveway, only to have to do the damn thing all over two days later. It takes an hour to drive anywhere in this shit because no one knows how to fucking drive with a little bit of snow and ice on the ground. There was a day where it reached as high as 60 and as low as -5 in the span of 24 hours. Oh, and last but not least, the thundersnow. Fucking thunder and fucking snow at the same time!

I'm starting to get worried. I am starting to suspect that spring may never fucking get here. The earth's had ice ages before; who's to say this isn't one of them? I'm sure the last time there was an ice age, one caveman said to another one, "Oh, don't worry: sure the weather is bad, but spring is right around the corner." Or at least whatever the caveman equivalent of that is.

One thing I know for sure is that that motherfucking Al Gore is full of shit.

Hooray! The writers' strike is over. I can finally get back to writing this blog.

Though writing a blog does not fall under the control of the Screenwriters Guild, I felt compelled to join all those writers I respect so much (and the hacks that think up CSI dead hooker plotlines) in bravely fighting the evil networks. And, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I have no doubt that the loud vocal outcry over the lack of new Irish Rambler articles certainly helped sway public opinion towards pressuring both parties into a swift resolution of the labor dispute. I tell you, this enormous influence I wield can sometimes weighs down upon me like an anchor, so worried am I over helping the public good.

There has been much that has happened since I last posted on this blog, and let me assure that I will go over every last inane thing, down to the each excruciatingly minute detail, in the long-winded and convoluted way that all three of my loyal readers had grown accustomed to, back when I was actually blogging. But for now I will simply say welcome back all three of you, and that you can look for new articles whenever my imagination is tickled, which will almost certainly be sometime before the end of the week (and even if my imagination lays dormant, my newfound youtube proficiency will at least mean you'll get a music video or something).