Just because.

I hear you, Jerry. Amen, brother.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-Roid!

Let me just say, I could not be HAPPIER with today's developments involving A-Roid and his cheating ways (no comment about his wife or Madonna). This ass-dolphin, who admittedly is the best statistical player in the game, has now proven himself a choker, a cheater, and a pussy---let's not forget his little bitch-slap at Bronson Arroyo while running down the first-base line in the 2004 ALCS. And to all of you who are about to say, "Well, the Sox wanted him pretty bad and would've had him if not for Bud Selig," fuck off. They didn't get him, or Madonna, and Tek smacked him around like a red-headed stepkid in the game that turned the season around for the Sox in '04.

So allow me to summarize the Spankees:

1. A-Rod: cheater/choker.

2. Andy Pettite: cheater

3. Roger Clemens: cheater/World's Biggest Asshole

4. Jeter: gay

5. Jason Giambi: cheater

6. The New York Yankees: MLB's biggest payroll since 2001; number of World Series titles: zippo, nada, the goose egg, zilch.

So may Mark Texiera come down with anal warts, may CC Sabathia gain so much weight munching on pizza slices that he can't maneuver without the help of a forklift, and may Cheater/A-Roid/Ass-Dolphin/Douche get everything he deserves and then some when he steps in Fenway for the first time in 2009. Amen.

Chinese Democracy

Let me preface this by saying that I am entirely unqualified to write critically abut music. Other than the very limited ability to string together a couple of chords and cough out "Smoke on the Water" on the guitar, I have no redeemable music intelligence or the acumen necessary to talk intelligently about music. However, in listening time as an adolescent alone, I feel like I can chime in with something that resembles a reasonable thought when it comes to Guns N' Roses. From the ages of 14-17, most of my free time was spent listening to G N' R and banging my forehead against the nearest solid object.

Plus, I'm not afraid to talk out my ass, which makes this job a helluva lot easier.

Like most people, I was skeptical about Chinese Democracy. I mean, we're talking about Axl Rose here, who is the ultimate variable. But I decided one night, while being sucked into the vortex which is the iTune Store (ninety-nine cents seems so cheap for music, until you realize you bought 178 songs), and I was feeling a little randy, so hell, I downloaded the CD.

Now, I shit you not, I think Chinese Democracy kicks ass. The first three tracks---the title song, "Shackler's Revenge," and, perhaps the best cut on the album, "Better"---rival Appetite and Use Your Illusion II for the kickoff to a G N' R album. Yes, I said it. "IRS" and "Prostitute" are exceptional "let-me-find-a-solid-object-and-bang-my-head-against at 33 years-old" tunes as well. On the whole, it's a good, solid album--lyrically and musically.

No, it's not your classic get wasted and drop the f-bomb at The Grammy's Guns N' Roses. This is far more produced than their earlier garage days, ripping songs a new ass. But it works. I guess that's the most articulate my dumb-ass can get. It works.

Kudos, Signor Rose. I'm sure my endorsement means a great deal to you. But seriously, dude, don't ever braid your hair in corn rows again. White people look like tools with corn rows, and you, Axl, are no exception.

Also, I have a new poem on the e-zine Gnome for anyone who might be interested. There's some really decent work on it. I was impressed.

Hair

Generally speaking, I regard the gratuitous posting of pictures of one's self on a blog as obnoxious---the natural extension for the person who once counted the number of pictures of their self that appeared in their high school yearbook. But since this is directly applicable to the content herein, I'm going to have break my rule.

Last night, my wife Liz and I decided that we'd make a New Year's resolution that was actually attainable. From this day forth, we are not going to cut our hair until 2010. If you're wondering, there is no real point to this, other than making a resolution that we stand a chance of keeping. Will we keep it? Who knows. But it seems more rational than saying, for example, I'm going to go to the gym every day or I'm quitting drugs.

So here, take a gander. Here are pictures of Liz and I, and our hair, on December, 31, 2008. Notice I'm scratching my chin. It must mean I'm thinking big literary thoughts because people who scratch their chins in pictures are always thinking big literary thoughts. And Liz has her head tossed back like a starlet because every woman who lives in Manchester, New Hampshire, is a starlet. Quite the handsome couple, eh?

Right now, caffeinated and brazen, I think we're going to actually do this. God speed, my friends. And God bless America.

Drunk History

Happy Holidays

My friend Jonell sent this vid to me about two years ago. Back in ancient times, you could link a Youtube video without it being censored or copyrighted by some large corporation who might be losing ten cents if you watch it on my blog instead of downloading it for 99 cents onto your Ipod or Blackberry. Jesus, am I becoming a curmudgeon? I am, aren't I?

Anyway, this is the single reason I'll never hate JT. Yeah, I used the initials. Do you want to fight me? I'll poke you in the eyes.

Happy Holidays, my friends.

The Company Man

As a good company man, here's a quick post to let you know that my publisher, sunnyoutside press, is feeling rather festive this holiday season. Until Dec. 20, they are offering a holiday special that, if you read and support the small presses, you simply should not pass up. Seriously, if you pass this up...well, then you need to put down the crack pipe, Pooky.

And if you feel like purchasing a Nathan Graziano book then, dammit, get down with yo' bad self. If not, then try to live with the fact that you're crushing my heart into fine particles and snorting it off the framed picture of my children I'm sending you for Christmas.

And a Merry Christmas to you, Uncle Scrooge.