It hurts.

Here we are, 11 games into the 2008 baseball season, and I've yet to weigh in about the Red Sox. Initially, I started this blog because my wife doesn't listen to me when I talk about the Red Sox, so I figured I'd write down my scourges, my frustrations, and my declarations of impending collapse. Yes, despite the fact that the Sox have won two World Series in the past four years, I still expect the worst from them, and last night, we got the worst.

There are very few things that sting like losing to the Yankees---pouring rubbing alcohol into a gaping wound or massaging the genitals with Icy-Hot might come close---and it always, invariably, pisses on my entire night to see them dump a game to those cocksuckers (I always seem to revert to slinging insults from my 14-year-old repertoire of curse words when it comes to talking about the Yankees).

Sure, Wanker threw a nice game last night, but it still doesn't absolve the fact that Wang's home country continues to oppress the Tibetans. By the same strain of logic that makes Obama culpable for the things Rev. Wright said, I'm blaming Wang for China's oppression of Tibet, sweat shops, and disastrous environmental policies. How can anyone root for a team that condones the violation of human rights? And, dear God, just having to look at A-Rod conjures enough bile in me to fill a two-liter bottle of bile. Then I hope that fat-ass Joba Chamberlain drinks my bottle of bile while suffocating in Mike Mussina's smugness and Andy "The Cheater" Pettite's fake penitence. God, I hate the fucking Yankees!

Do you see how irrational I get about the Yankees? You See? You see!

In some good news, it seems Red Sox fans have a new saint to canonize. If this is true, this man should be awarded Monster Seats season tickets for the rest of his life. Bravo!

Already, I've used more exclamation points in this post than I have in the past five years. It's time for some deep-breathing exercise and a couple of anti-anxiety pills. This sustained level of agitation is not good for the digestive system.

Hopefully, Wakefield can mop up the mess tonight, and Big Papi will snap out of his slump. Hopefully, Julio Lugo will somehow morph into Jose Reyes and the bullpen will stop throwing batting practice. Hopefully, they won't drop two in a row to the incarnation of evil, those fuckwads in pinstripes. Hopefully not. Because it hurts.

Here's Whitey

I would be remiss and irresponsible if I didn't share this one. Apparently, this site is getting millions upon millions of hits, and for good reason. You absolutely have to check out Stuff White People Like. I have never felt so exposed, but both my wife and I are having some good laughs at our own expense. And I suspect, my liberal friends, you'll see yourself coming and going as well.

Gay Top Gun

Clearly, I have a lot of time on my hands right now. I've hit a bit of a creative spped bump; therefore, it seems a productive use of my spare time drinking beer and trying to unpack the homosexual undertones in the movie Top Gun. My conclusion: Top Gun is veritable anthem for the homosexual lifestyle. See for yourself.

Well-said, Sir.

A friend sent me this link today. It is an intelligent, thoughtful, and articulate analysis of The Hillary Clinton Campaign's recent nonsense. Kudos to Keith Olbermann. If you live in any of the remaining primary/caucus states, please pay attention.

Google search: "nathan graziano"

There is a fantastic article in the new Poets and Writers by Frank Bures titled "I Google myself, therefore I am." As someone who Googles his own name on a daily basis, this one really hit home and, in some sad and ridiculous sense, gave me comfort in knowingly that I am not the only one with this solipsistic obsession. There are, in fact, many people as self-absorbed and painstakingly insecure as myself.

However, seeing Mr. Bures must have been writing with a strict word count, I'd like to pick up on a few things he missed, more minutiae that I believe are deserving of mention and/or clarification.

1. Quotation marks. When Googling my own name, it's not a one-time, buckshot search. I actually Google my name twice: first, with quotation marks around the name, then without them. Although the searches net mostly the same results, the first search is more specific, meaning it will give me the results of the hits that have "nathan" followed by "graziano." The second, broader search can pick up things that might have the words "nathan" and "graziano" in close proximity. The broader search sometimes gives you results that the specific search won't show, but it's a far more time consuming and laborious search because the number of pages to comb through is nearly infinite. But one who is consumed with validating their existence and worth through a search engine cannot afford to be slipshod.

2. Variations of my first name. Although I publish under Nathan Graziano, my colleagues, friends, and family call me Nate. Therefore, a search under simply "nathan graziano" might not show me places--- such as friends' websites or blogs--- where I'm being mentioned as Nate Graziano. Now, you might be asking yourself, "Wouldn't the broader search without the quotation marks show the hits for "nate graziano." Sometimes. But when Googling your name, you can never be too circumspect.

3. Family. If I have the time, say another 10 minutes during my lunch break, I will search the names of my wife and kids plus my own (for example: "paige graziano+nathan graziano") to see what type of profound role I play in their cyber-lives. It's important to remember, as Mr. Bures so poignantly writes, that this whole thing is an existentially vacuous endeavor. It is something that only someone who is egotistical and paranoid would do think of doing on a daily basis. So it seems perfectly plausible that someone who is obsessed with Googling their name would want the added vainglorious praise of seeing how those close to them are affected by their internet presence as well.

All of this talk has whetted my appetite. It's time to do the deed...

This is better than the original

Admittedly, the original video toes the line of cheesy--- I was huffing Lysol the day I put it up---but this one offers an even starker comparison of what we're up against. First of all, I don't dislike Hillary; I can live happily with her as our president, although I'd admit disappointment because I see Obama as someone who could make a real difference, someone outside of The Washington vanguarde. But if McCain is elected, I will attempt to strangle myself with my own tongue. I could go outside, right now, and find roadkill that's more inspiring than John McCain. However, on the bright side, he could potentially put a dent in the pharmaceutical industry's pocketbook by rendering all prescription sleeping aides obsolete: Simply listen a McCain State of the Union address and you'll be counting sheep in a wink.

Good lord, if you're from Ohio, Texas or Pennsylvania and reading this, lend a hand and vote Obama.

P.S. All this political shit is going to be taking a backseat soon. Pitchers and catchers reported, some quite corpulently, to camp this week. Go Sox.

Please, God, not Hillary.