Sly and The Family Stone- If you want me to stay

This picture of J-Law raw-doggin' it horribly on a hoops court has me wondering if possibly some of her incredible physical prowess in "The Hunger Games" was not artificially staged with technical magic for movie purposes. (Yes, I know raw-doggin' does not literally apply to this, but I just like the sound of the term) 


It is windy at the Masters in Augusta, Georgia. It is blowing harder than a Kardashian sister at a billionaire's convention. 

It is so windy, Tiger Woods claims it blew a Waffle House waitress into his hotel suite. 

At the first hole of the first day of the Masters, Ernie Els, shot a record worst ten on a par four including missing six short putts. It was the most humiliated a golfer has been since Elin Nordegren divorced the pants right off of Tiger Woods. 

(Class act he is, Ernie did not walk off the course and blame it on an injury like some other players have. One of which name rhymes with Schmiger Schmoods.) 

Two dangerous, mentally-ill men have escaped from a Washington State Psychiatric hospital. However, they don’t like the terms dangerous and mentally ill. They prefer homicidally-challenged.


Since you asked:

As an adjunct to the preposterous Woody Allen fear of the utter chaos that would result from everybody in the world deciding to go to the same restaurant at the same night, how is it possible that everybody in golf -  all the older past players and the younger future players - manage to all fit at Augusta? Especially in that relatively tiny Butler Cabin?

One time when I was playing with my golf mentor and idol, Mark O'Snake - a man so good at golf he, on a dare from a stranger, drove a ball 300 yards on to the green at the R.B. Inn - because there was a corporate tournament behind us, we teed off on the first tee with about 20 people watching. 

Promptly I came out of my shoes and whiffed my t-shot to not-very-well stifled laughter from the gallery.  And then shanked it 20 yards right. Then I hit the sand trip, hit out of the trap in three, raked the trap and then five-putted. 

Afterwards I told O-Snickity that hole combined everything I hate: nervousness followed by public humiliation, carrying crap around, sweating in the heat, gardening and then a math problem. 

All that was missing was a proctology appointment. 

When I was in Seventh grade, my much-cooler friend, Bruce and I were given the high honor of being selected by our Winnetka Junior High football team as the two all stars to attend the All Pro Football Camp. 

The camp was hosted by All Pro Minnesota Vikings, Mick Tinglehof, Jim Marshall, Bill Brown and Ed Sharackman and one of my true idols, running back, Dave Osborn, as seen above. (Not to be confused with Super Dave Osborn)

The camp was held on the campus of Carlton College in Minnesota. A bucolic setting in the hills with heaven-like lakes and willow trees. In mind-boggling sweltering heat. 

Like I said, everyone at the camp had to be nominated by their league-winning football team as the two best to go so it was an honor to be there. We were, like "Top Gun" and "Men In Black." The Midwest best of the best.

But even more of an honor were the two players who were there on full-scholarship. (Bruce's and my parents had to pay in full) 

The two scholarship athletes were from the South Side of Chicago, the only two black athletes in camp. One was a tall, rifle-armed quarterback named Marcus - to this day he reminds me of Marcus Allen -  and his shorter side-kick and constant companion, an insanely fast and shifty receiver with amazing hands and a constant smile, Marcellus. 

The four of us, Bruce, Marcellus, Marcus and me, were the only 7th graders in the camp so we instantly bonded. Everyone else was in 8th grade and seemed almost as big as the Vikings. 


My confidence and maturity would vastly improve by my Freshman year in high school, but in Seventh grade, although big and strong and fast, I still thought of myself as the clumsy, bullied-by-older-kids, shy dork I was in 2nd grade. (Not a good year for me)

So to over-compensate for my insecurity - like all comedians - I leaned in hard on the comedy, even at my own expense. 

And it worked. 

The one-year-older kids started to like me and Marcellus, a quiet and shy kid, who had a hip, huge afro with a pick in it, ala Questlove, really thought I was funny. Truth was, this cool-guy Marcellus thought I was hilarious. 

Even the god-like NFL players thought I was funny. Including Dave Osborn. All the pro players gave the four of us lone 7th graders the same double-edged sword nickname, "Chicago." (Double-edged in that it was an honor to be nicknamed by the pros, but, being Minnesota Vikings, they openly hated Chicago)

"Hey Chicago," yelled Dave Osborn pointing to me one time during lunch in the cafeteria, "Make that funny face and voice again like you did earlier at running back practice."

At the time I called the bit the now politically incorrect "Retarded Bird." 

Nailed it. Spastic loud squawking, jerky- flapping wings, gyrating on the floor. All the campers, counselors and the entire table of All Pro Minnesota Vikings, Mick, Ed, Ed, Jim and especially Dave, cracked way the hell up. 

It is still, to this day, one of my comedic high-points. 

Thanks to my crowd-killing bits like "Retarded Bird," and "Sad Moose" and "Gleeful Idiot," much to my surprise and delight, I was becoming one of the more popular kids at the camp.  Although I was way behind Marcus in popularity, who was simply a born leader. (The fact he did not make it in the NFL still surprises me) 

There was only one racial incident when a huge, freckled, fat giant and bully lineman from Minneapolis thought it would be funny to call Marcus the N-word. Marcus did not bat an eye and called him Corn Fed, short for Corn Fed Cattle, which, much to Corn Fed's dismay, stuck. (Marcus did make it his mission to beat the ever-loving, living crap out of Corn Fed, albeit legally, each day in practice until Corn Fed ran crying from the practice field. Bullies are cowards)

My blooming popularity was even slightly pissing off my vastly cooler friend and roommate, Bruce. Bruce was, without question, the big man on our junior high campus back in Winnetka. Especially with the laaadies. (Lisa R., a well-known make-out-artist even in Seventh grade, called Bruce: The Best Boy) 

At first it was a singular honor and a great feeling to be so well-liked by Marcus and Marcellus, two bonafide studs from such a different and tough background. They were genuinely cool. Sly and the Family Stone cool. 

But then it started to get awkward with Marcellus. Downright weird, even. 

At first, my new friend, Marcellus was the dream of every comedian: He doubled-over laughing at everything I did. Everything. Even when I was not doing "Retarded Bird." 

Pretty soon Marcellus's constant laughter started to wear on the-hyper-sensitive 7th grader me. And then it became embarrassing. (Remember when your mom told you the kids were laughing with you, not at you, but you knew she was lying? It was like that)

Then one night after dinner, near the end of camp, we were about to watch Ed Sabol’s awesome “NFL Films” in the air-conditioned campus theater. When I showed up with Bruce to sit with Marcus and Marcellus, per usual, Marcellus, once again, burst into hysterical, doubled-over laughter at the mere sight of me. In front of everyone.  Including Dave Osborn. That was it. I had had it.

And I lost it. Badly;

“Damn it. Stop laughing at me. Will you stop laughing at me? What the hell is the matter with you, Marcellus? Are you stupid or something?”

The instant switch on Marcellus's face from delighted laughter to a pained look of hurt and embarrassment is something I won't forget. Truth is, it broke my heart, but there was nothing I could do about it. The mean and scary cat was out of the bag.

Marcellus sat there the entire movie trying as hard as he could not to cry. So did I. You can be so sorry it hurts.

From that point on, the last day or two of camp, Marcellus's contagious laughter at seeing me was now replaced with sadness and shame. 

Truth is I did not hear Marcellus laugh again.

A few years later, I would look for Marcellus at big invitational high school track meets where there were athletes from the South Side of Chicago, because Marcellus was so damn fast, I presumed he would be there.  I looked for him so I could finally apologize. 

But I never saw him again.

It is 44 years later and, obviously, I still think about it. When I hear about the horrible statistics of what happens to kids growing up in the South Side, I still hope and believe Marcus and Marcellus beat the odds.

Sometimes, as much as you would like to, you cannot take things back. 

At the Masters, Ernie Els had a record-worst ten on the par four first hole. He missed six putts from inside three feet. He had a harder time getting in a hole in the ground than Jimmy Hoffa’s body.

Now that's a funky town I don't want you to take me to, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Two dangerously mentally-ill men have escaped from a Washington State Psychiatric hospital. They are at large and considered extremely Gary Busey-like.

They cancelled the Khloe Kardashian show, “Kocktails with Khloe.” There is no truth to the rumor it will be replaced with “Lines With Lamar.” 

Campaigning in a new York subway, Hillary Clinton had a hard time getting her MetroCard to swipe. Turns out she was using her Goldman Sachs Diamond-Club Credit Card by mistake. 

Today is National Beer Day. It's part of Fat Ass Americans History Month. 

New York Jet, D’Brickashaw Ferguson, is retiring after 10 years and only missing one snap. He may go down in history as the greatest player ever named D’Brickashaw. 

At the Masters, Ernie Els had a record-worst ten on the par four first hole. He missed six putts from three feet. His play was described as almost San Diego Padre-like. 

"Sun Is Gonna Shine" (Single Version) from BRIGHT STAR

My friend, Frank Baldwin's daughter, Maddie Shea Baldwin, is in the cast. Her star is ascending.

France has made prostitution illegal. In a related story, Paris Hilton has changed her name to Nevada Hilton. 

The San Diego Padres have been shut out in their first three games, a record. I’ve seen guys at Comic-Con dressed as Frodo score more.

Many are blaming Donald Trump’s Wisconsin loss on his mean photo tweet of Ted Cruz’s wife. Trump tried to backpedal, “If I had it to do over, I would have used a nicer picture of that nasty ‘ho.”

“TMZ” reports Venessa Bryant claims Kobe Bryant gave her all five of his NBA championship rings. Oh no, do you realize what this means? Kobe must have had five more affairs. 

“Rolling Stone” magazine endorsed Hillary Clinton. Which was hard on Bernie Sanders, he was there for the first one. Not the first issue of “Rolling Stone,” the first time a stone ever rolled.

Today is National Beer Day. Because what this country needs is a national declaration to drink more beer. Let’s finish off the week strong and name tomorrow National Meth Day. 

Spring has sprung
This I’ve sung
Trump has tiny hands
He’s not well hung

#SpringRaps #JimmyFallon

Jimi Hendrix 'Voodoo Child' (Slight Return)

Got to drop on down and give it a shimmy one-time, Jimmy-Jimmy, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

A study found the average sex session lasts five minutes. Or as men call that five minutes: 20 minutes. 

Or as Melania Trump calls that five minutes: “Is being wery, wery too long time.” 

Donald Trump lost Wisconsin. Which is ironic because I am pretty sure that thing on Trump's head is a badger.

After a brutal Wisconsin loss, there are reports of in-fighting in the Donald Trump campaign. Or as it is called in politics: “Playing musical deck chairs on the Titanic.” 

One of the celebrities leaked in the shady off-shore financial deal called the Panama Papers is Jackie Chan. Jackie said, “We have done nothing wrong.” That or he said, “Waffle dong knotting gone.”

Amazon Prime unveiled buttons you can press to order Doritos, Red Bull and Trojan condoms. Or as the Kardashian sisters call that: a three-course meal. 

A report claims millionaires are leaving Chicago more than any other city. Apparently if you’re smart enough to become a millionaire, you’re smart enough to read a thermometer. 

While campaigning in Wisconsin, Ted Cruz said, “I like cheese on cheese.” Sound like he’s pandering. When he was in West Virginia he said, “I like cousins on cousins.” 

KFC is undergoing a massive $185 mil. upgrade. In a related story, Chipotle ordered new kitchen sponges.

North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-Un, has reportedly ballooned to over 300 pounds. Unfortunately, this also explains North Korea’s poodle shortage. 

Now his name is Kim Jong-Un-Fasten My Belt.  

He may have to change his name to Kim Jong-Christie. 

There was a wild season finale to “The Walking Dead.” The gang thinks they have come up against the biggest group of scary, mindless, blood-thirsty, walker-zombies they’ve ever seen. Turns out it was just a Trump rally. 

Many people are upset over the cliff-hanger season finale of “The Walking Dead.” Have not seen so many comic-book nerds this mad since they announced sex with robots is five years away. 

Charlize Theron told “GQ” magazine it is hard to be a gorgeous woman in Hollywood. “Poor thing. That must be awful,” said a US Marine on patrol in Afghanistan. 

Listening to actors whine about acting is like listening to lottery winners complain about paying taxes. 

Since you asked:

Cannot emphasis how crappy watching the season finale of AMC’s “The Walking Dead” On Demand was. Not only was the show itself weak with a half-assed and truly lame cliff-hanger, but I truly believe half of the time was commercials. Commercials they did not let you fast-forward through. It was a genuinely excruciating TV-watching experience. 

Here comes the Trump fall. Trump is nothing if not a bully. A liar, sure. But mostly he is a bully. A bully, by nature, is a coward. No matter how tough the bully. And Trump is not a tough bully. Trump is a pussy-bully. 

Are you crying? There's no crying in basketball. There's no crying.

Hate to say it, speaking of bullies, but I now despise Michael Jordan. 

Yes, I was fully a huge Michael Jordan fan, like the rest of the world, when he was with the Bulls. Then he started talking about himself in the third person. Always a warning sign. 

Then we saw him bully the refs. Then we saw him punching nice guy teammates, like Steve Kerr. Then I saw an out-take from a commercial where a stage hand throws him a pass off screen. Jordan catches the ball and became furious. “You call that a pass?" He then flung the ball at pitcher speed at the guy off camera. 

Total dick move. 

Nobody is saying Jordan is not one of the greatest athletes of all time. Easily the greatest basketball player of all time. And being insanely competitive had much to do with Jordan’s success. But that doesn't mean Jordan is even close to a good person. Look at the ugly divorce, the affairs. All the people in the NBA who hate him. 

Nobody will be able to convince me that Jordan’s father, James, wasn’t murdered because Jordan would not pay off his own father's gambling debts. 

And then the funky retirement to play baseball. Nobody will be able to convince me that wasn’t a gambling-related plea bargain with the NBA. Nobody. Ever.

Near the end of Jordan’ second NBA career, the refs were such in terror of Jordan’s retribution, Jordan was taking strolls with the ball and nobody could touch him. In my opinion, it hurt his legacy. Jordan was playing under far looser rules. 

Then he went to Washington and my conscience for disliking him was clear.

But the last nail in my Jordan coffin was hammered home when a caddy told of carrying Jordan’s clubs in sweltering heat for two rounds, over eight hours, and Jordan stiffed him. 

Not a bad tip. Zero tip. (Was told by a cocktail waitress at the Hard Rock Casino in Las Vegas Tiger Woods and Jordan would stiff the waitresses and Charles Barkley would cover for them) 

When the caddy asked Jordan if there was something wrong with his service, Jordan said;

“You’re expecting a tip? You should be honored to have carried my bag.”

As someone who has caddied even a few times, that is truly unforgivable. 

Like Donald Trump, Michael Jordan is an asshole.

In Hong Kong, a man built a Scarlett Johansson robot. The robot even talks. It’s first words were, “Get the hell away from me, you creepy weirdo.” 

A dead body was found in Disneyland Paris. The found the corpse in the Paris historical attraction: Surrender Land.

A Florida man led police on a high speed chase and was found to have drugs and a handcuff key hidden in his rectum. Or as they call that in Florida: a triple play. 

Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna are engaged. They’re serious about getting married. They’ve already picked out their divorce lawyers.

North Korea is banning Facebook, YouTube and Twitter. So good luck finding tasty dog recipes for Father’s Day. 

Alaska Air is buying Virgin Air. They were going to merge the letters in Alaska and Virgin to name the company, but the anagram came out Karl’s Vagina. 

One of the rich celebrities in the shady off-shore money information leak called the Panama Papers is Jackie Chan. Chan said, “We are not part of a financial scam.” That or he said, “Weezer narrate party offend a fistful of clams.”

Spain wants to end their worker’s mandatory three-hour siestas and long wine-fueled lunch breaks. While China is considering allowing children laboring in factories to use the bathroom. 


Hugh Hefner’s ex-girlfriend, Kendra Wilkenson, has endorsed Donald Trump for president. “Well, that’s all the information I need,” said morons. 



Villanova won the NCAA championship over North Carolina by shooting with less than a second to go. “See? Shooting that fast can be a good thing,” said guys to their women. 



Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna are engaged. They have already enrolled their future children in the high-IQ society of Mensa. 



For the first time in 46 years there are no Canadian teams in the NHL playoffs. The Canadian hockey players were too distracted by the idea of all of the Americans who will move there if Trump gets elected. 

A picture of Jennifer Lawrence shooting a basketball horribly has gone viral. Her shot was so bad, she was immediately signed by the Lakers.

Apparently El Chapo has gained a lot of weight since he has been back in prison. He had to order this tunnel built in a husky size. 

Box office for “Batman V. Superman” down 80% from opening . Might put their plans on hold for the follow-up, “Santa Claus V. Easter Bunny.”

In Wisconsin, a stripper was arrested for biting a man’s crotch during a lap dance. To put it in Wisconsin town terms, she bit him in his Tomahawk as well as his Sheboygan’s. 

(Here we have more species-elevating hot takes) 


Since you asked:

Abby Wambach has done so much for women's soccer, the USA, kids, the Olympics, gay rights. I'm not saying DUI's are not serious, of course they are, but Abby has owned up to her mistake. She deserves a goddamn break.

But no, Abby's sponsors, like Nike did with Maria Sharapova, are jumping like rats off the Titanic. (To their credit, Nike is still with Abby. As of now)

Remember the guy on Easter who set the record for eating 200 Peeps in 14 minutes?  The next day he set another record, but, trust me, you don't want to know what for.

(Keep it classy, San Diego)