"Hey Bubba, Who You Starting At Receiver This Week?"

Saturday night, I was out watching the Red Sox and after the game concluded, the jukebox started up. It was one of those great, new jukeboxes where you can download any song. Late in the night, "Mr. November" by The National came on. It was not played by me, but I was very happy to hear it. I was even happier to meet the guy who played it. And apparently, this guy was SUPER happy to meet me as he met a fellow fan (nerd) of a relatively obscure song that he chose to play. For a variety of reasons (well, one reason really: The Tower), I do not remember the conversation we had. But I do know that when I woke up and recalled this story, I was happy to have had a conversation with another dude that was different from the conversation that I hear most dudes having these days.

Truly, I'm sorry to cash in this entry and pull the Shaugnessey/Ryan Emptying out The Sports Drawer of The Mind. But I can't take it any more. I can't take hearing the SAME EXACT CONVERSATION FIFTEEN TIMES A WEEK BY FIFTEEN DIFFERENT GROUPS OF GUYS!!!!! So, for those of you that have this conversation, I'm sorry. Actually, I'm not. I just wish you'd stop having it. For those of you who STILL don't know what I'm talking to you about, raise your hand if you've heard one of these conversations or a slight variation of it in recent months:

1. "I'm so pissed man. I have the second highest point total in my league and I'm 1-5. Every week, I've played against the best team."

2. "So I'm down by 16 heading into Monday night and I have Palmer going. I need him to have a big night."

3. "I can't believe it! The team I was playin' had a kicker on his bye week and he picks up Bironas who has a stupid week and I lose by two."

4. "So I have Manning and he has a bye this week, and I need to decide who to start, Dilfer on Rosenfelds. Dilfer is going up against the Pittsburgh D which has the sixth worst pass defense in the league and Rosenfelds is coming off a monster week, so I can go with him too."

5. "I'm in second, but the first place guy just got Peterson from another guy for Morris just because the guy wanted a Pat."

6. "I'm taking Maroney with the sixth pick. I think he's going to have a huge year."

By now you know what I'm talking about: Fantasy Football.

Many of you know I hate football. My reasoning is simple (but quite possibly insane). I was wrong about Tom Brady.

But seriously, I'm not going to talk about the worthlessness of football (except to say, what other sports primary marketing campaign is Fantasy Leagues? And are there ten stars in the NFL right now? And what sort of sport has two good players at it's best position?) or the stupidity and luck of Fantasy Football. Instead I'm going to talk about the sad conversational state of the gender that has the Y Chromosome.

Now, I've had my fair share of inane conversations in my life. I regularly, seriously, and very scientifically present arguments as to why Jennifer Love Hewitt would like me if she met me in person. My brother and I recently discussed and ended up agreeing that it might actually be a really good thing to have Erectile Dysfunction. And then my sister and I talked- via text- about why banging in, when used as a slang term for calling in sick should really be called banging out (or was it vice versa?). I have also opined on whether or not a really strong man could knock a horse cold with a single punch as Arnold did in Conan The Destroyer.

But in all three cases, I am happy to say that, as a member of the male gender, I was having a conversation OTHER than one about fantasy football.

I mean, think about how awful a fantasy football conversation really is, particularly if you are not in a fantasy league. Do teams with the second highest point total ordinarily NOT go 1-5? Because I do know that the Texas Rangers have had good offenses in the past, but can't win anything. And my brother always says that the "down by x many points" conversation is also ridiculous because we have no idea what the scoring system of said leagues are. Is 16 points easy to overcome or difficult? And who is Bironas? Isn't he in the NHL? And as for who you are starting, guess what: You have no idea because it's all shit luck.

Again, I'm not sitting here saying that I am talking about the pre-revolutionary utopia and the capital-forming effects of military mobilization (thanks Will). But it is sad to think that men have NOTHING else to talk about. And I'm serious here. I have heard, in the past seven days alone, fanatsy football conversations in the gym locker room (which I know is like saying there are mullets at a NASCAR event), at The Hold Steady show last night, at dinner before the Red Sox last weekend, and while I waited in line on a Monday morning in Starbucks (this was especially disappointing for me. I thought this was a conversation reserved strictly for Dunkin Donuts). I rarely hear conversations about books, music or even movies. I'm starting to think that men either A) Just play fantasy football or B) Stare at the back of seats, David Putty style.

So I'm asking you, the two male readers of this ridiculousness, to please, talk about something else this week. You know how they have Breast Cancer Awareness months/days and Black History Month? I propose we have A Fantasy Conversation Free Week. Just one week. We could all wear pins pronouncing our Fantasy Freeness. It would be like Fight Club. We'd sort of nod to one another as we passed in the streets or in the aisles of stores. If somebody brought up Fanatsy Football, we would pretend we had no idea what they were talking about. We could start a revolution. And I'd be the Che Guevara of Fantasy Football.

There is, of course, an outside chance that if we did this, no two males would converse for the entire week.

But anyways, I need you to listen men. Or not so much listen, but talk. Talk about something other than fake football teams. It's not like you have to have the effeminate, ridiculous conversations I have about how skinny ties look awesome or how the right brown shoes with a nice pair of gray pants can look uber trendy. But let's talk about something other than who to start at tight end on Sunday. Let's try talking about how awesome Wusthof Knives are. Or how good TBS reruns of The Offic are. Let's talk about what the best Oktoberfest is and where the best burger place around is. Heck, let's talk about transmissions and Skil Saws. Just give me something other than Fantasy Football. It's exhausting. And sad.

So those of you who actually play Fantasy Football, think before you talk about it. Because outside of conversations about bad poker beats, the history of Mag Lite Flashlights, your golf game, your hemorrhoids, or the cultural impact of Bill Cosby's sweaters, there is no conversation worse than a conversation about your fake football team.

And so now I have an apology to make. A few months ago, my friends Brian, Brian, Brian, Jay, Shaun, and Paul were discussing stone walls, lawns, and water features over email and I made fun of them. For the record, it wasn't only me making fun of them. It was Shaun too. In fact, he cracked the single funniest email joke I've ever seen. But it was mostly me. And now, after three months of conversations about Marques Colston and Atlanta's rush defense, I'm really sorry for making fun of them because instead, I should have been celebrating them and cherishing them as good friends. For alas, they were talking about something (geeky) OTHER THAN FANTASY FOOTBALL. And that, I now realize, was a great thing.

So good job boys. And I'm sorry for making those jokes about you guys being 54.

Well, I gotta run. I've got to go to a imdb chat room and discuss whether or not Obi Wan used the force or just had really good eye sight when when he stated correctly that the Death Star was in fact, no moon, but a space station.

Remember When You Liked This Guy? Keep It That Way.

Christmas Day of 1990, I got my first CD player and stereo. It was a top load Teac (does that even still exist?) and the stereo was a component Panasonic system (which was so terrible I blew out the speakers about three months after Santa brought it to me). I dutifully picked both of these out of the Service Merchandise catalog, showed them to my mother and father, and magically, they appeared under our Christmas Tree. It was supremely happy. And I bet my parents were supremely happy as they then had to listen to countless hours of my bad music (and let me tell you..... It was bad! This was before the time I was a music snob/conniseur/poseur so let's just say the first three CDs I "asked for" were Don Henley Building The Perfect Beast, Phil Collins Live, and The Pretty Woman Soundtrack...... I like The King of Wishful Thinking. What can I say?).

In between listenings of "All She Wants To Do Is Dance," I made a laundry list of CDs I wanted. Keep in mind that this was pre iTunes and pre Amazon, so all I had to go on was memeory. Further, I never had an older brother who introduced me to Led Zeppelin or Foreigner (I am now SOOOOOO thankful for that). I did have a sister who introduced me to The Police (they were one of the six CDs I got that Christmas of 1990) and that was good. But mostly, all I had was the back catalog of music in my mind and videos of U Can't Touch This and The Humpty Dance.

One of the songs I did remember loving was 99 Red (that's Luft to you Dirk Nowitzski) Balloons by Nena. I even memorized all the words (this is what we've waited for, this is it boys, this is war!). Memorizing these words helped me perfect my air guitar and even impressed a girl at a bar once.

So, one night, I got in the back of Mike Archer's 86 Datsun and headed over to Newbury Comics where I found the white placard that said Nena. After some three dollar Taco Bell, I headed home and listened to 99 Red, only to realize that it sucked.

Not only did 99 Red suck, it sucked badly. And the suckiness of said song eradicated all the positive memories I had of it. I erased those nights I would jump around on my bed playing that song on my Fisher Price record player.

What is my point? I was better off NOT buying the song in my later years as the suckiness of it ruined what were once great childhood memories. I wish I never heard the song again (of course, I would later have heard it at bars, but that would have been fine because I was drunk and wouldn't have known the difference). But I did.

And so this brings me to a new phenomenon. Lately, production companies have decided to release classic television shows and classic cartoons on DVD. I was originally excited about this idea. So excited that I bought Transformers The Movie (not the new one mind you, but the '86 animated version where Optimus Prime dies). I sat down to watch it, excited to see a movie that I remember being so great. I was happy to hear "You've Got The Touch" (Which Dirk Diggler and Reed Rothchild unsuccessfully tried to cover) and I was happy to see Optimus. But then.....

I shut the movie off. Why? Because it's suckiness rivaled that of 99 Luft.

And now? Well, I don't look back as fondly as I once did on the day we piled into Mrs Roos' new Volvo and went to see Orsen Welles in his final performance.

So here's what I'm telling you people: You know all those old TV shows and cartoons that you used to love as kids that you can now get on DVD? DON'T GET THEM!!!!!

TV shows like The A-Team, MacGyver, The Greatest American Hero, Scarecrow and Mrs. King, and Happy Days were cancelled for a variety of reasons. But I'm thinking that the central reason they were cancelled is because they sucked.

But now, with the internet and DVD technology, we can get ANY of these shows. And in ways, this is a terrible thing. Because we remember the shows because of who we were and where we were at the time. Shows like Alf and Star Blazers (I'm probably the only one who remembers that sci fi geek show- the original Japanimation program) are likely not good, but we can at least REMEMBER that they were good. And you know what? I don't want those memories tainted.

The same can be said for music. With iTunes and the internet, you can get virtually any song you want and this stinks. Remember back in the day when you had to sit around and wait for a song to come on the radio and tape it? And you'd get some corny DJ introducing the song and ruining the first few chords for you? There was something to be said for that. Now, you can get any song you want and that's not good because a lot of songs that remind us of our youth really aren't that good. This shouldn't come as a surprise to me, but it makes me melancholy nonetheless.

I understand that I sound like Bob Ryan discussing the 1986 Celtics right now, but it's not really about the lack of good programming or the "Things were better in my day!" argument. It's more this: Don't go checking out stuff from your youth because it will only crushingly disappoint.

So the next time you are surfing youtube, try not to download clips of old TV shows or classic MTV videos, because you will not be happy. I one time (okay, fine, three weeks ago) downloaded Warrant's "Cherry Pie" so I could see Bobbi Brown in all of her apple pie eating/Daisy Duke wearing glory. Needless to say, the 1990 Bobbi Brown wasn't nearly as attractive as I remembered her to be (this is probably a good thing). And that was sad, for it tainted a once great memory I had

I will say this though. The video did help me somewhat. I made me realize that Jani Lane- who I think I thought was the man- was and likely still is a complete tool. So if anything, youtube is valuable in raising my self esteem. Not that it needs any raising.

Who Knew This Guy Would Change My Life?

I remember it all very clearly. It was the fall of 1997 and the bar scene in Amherst was drastically different than I had remembered. Here I was, standing in the same bar I had been standing in just 17 months before, surrounded by the same seven knuckleheads I had been surrounded by for four years. We were even doing the same thing. Standing in a corner, not socializing, each holding a six dollar pitcher. Then it dawned on me what was different. All of the girls were wearing the same thing. They all had on the same ridiclously hot/totally-inappropriate-outside-of-an-aerobics-class-black-pants. And those black pants changed everything for me.

For anyone reading this who graduated college/was on the bar scene pre 1997, sit back and try to remember what women wore out. Can you? Because I can't. I think they wore big wool sweaters, overalls (don't deny it ladies! they made a brief comeback there in the mid to late nineties), dock martins, high waisted jeans, and skorts. But I'm not sure. They could have been wearing snow suits. All I can remember now is that every woman was dressed in form fitting black pants that were basically slightly classier versions of spandex. I even remember the names of the pants. The were called Ponte Pants and they could be purchased in a variety of colors from express. And paired with black boots and a shimmery top, those pants turned every girl into a midlevel South Beach Club Goer (well, at UMass, it was probably less than mid level).

And then, I started to notice said Ponte Pants everywhere (of course, had I NOT been going to the Green House in Billerica in the fall of '96, I might have discovered these pants earlier) and it forever changed the bar scene. To this day, I do not think that the young bar/club going men and women of The United States understand the importance of these pants. I'm telling you people, they altered everything. The Ponte Pant then paved the way for the Ponte Skirt, Ponte Tube Top/Half Shirt,and Ponte Booty Shorts. Eventually, women needed a new fashion option, so they turned to designer jeans, which in their cut and clinginess, are basically the same thing as the Ponte Pant, only cut from denim. So, the next time you see a hot/skankily dressed woman, thank the Ponte Pant because it changed mens lives. Well, at least it changed mine.

Why do I bring this up? Because this month's GQ had a phenomenal article about the 27 things that changed mens lives. Shockingly, it did not include the Ponte Pant, but it did include some tremendous selections like Nintento, thong underwear, the remote control, and the yellow first and ten line (I'd give you a link to the complete list, but it's not online so go buy the mag). However, GQ missed a few massive male altering inventions/things/stuff. And I am here to include a few more things that changed mens lives. Truth be told, the following 18 items probably changed no ones lives. But they changed mine and I'm a male, right? Well, barely. Anyways, here are the 18 things that changed MY (kinda male) life:

1. Flip Flops- See that guy walking down the street with his khaki shorts, white socks, and Nike Shox? He looks ridiculous doesn't he? Well, until flip flops came along, this was my only option with shorts. That, or a ridiculous looking pair of sandals with an uncomfortable buckle that always cut your ankle. Then flip flops came along and made me look normal. Well, semi-normal at least. Because shorts are not ever going to be my look.

2. Road House- This movie came out in 1989. I was 15. This is the age when the male libido runs the fastest. It runs a sub four minute mile. This movie had the most gratutious sex/boob (cause that's the word I used when I was 15- there might have even been an "ies" on the end) shots ever while also having the greatest dirty talk I had yet heard (you gonna be my regular Saturday night thing?). Further, it had a 5'6" Swayze ripping out throats (which I bet is kinda hard), a dude encouraging his girlfriend to table dance, and the idea that if you have a Philosophy degree, you can be a bouncer.

3. Swingers/Entourage/Pulp Fiction/Seinfeld/Da Ali G Show/Chapelle's Show- Without these shows, there is a good chance that I would have never made a person laugh. Ever. They laugh even harder when they don't know I stole one of my "funny" lines from one of the aforementioned. And no, I don't tell them what it's from.

4. Flavored Vodka- I hate whiskey, bourbon, and gin. It is bad enough that my favorite beers are either fruit flavored or contain fruit, so if it were not for flavored vodka, I would drink no hard alcohol. I can always pour some Rasperry Stoli into a glass with sprite and say I'm drinking a vodka tonic. And I've always wanted to be like Bond and say how I like my martini, but since I hate gin, I could never do that. Now that they make "vodka martinis," I can finally do that. Of course, said martinis are still pink.

5a. That Episode of "True Life, I'm from The Jersey Shore"
5b. That Other Episode "True Life: I Have Calf Implants"- Because even though I drink pink drinks, think Road House is the best soft core porn ever, and steal all my lines from movies and TV I am, at the least, not these guys.

6. Jason Priestley/Luke Perry/Brady Anderson- If it were not for them, sideburns would be considered ridiculous. And now, thanks to them, I too can look just like a C List TV/Baseball Star.

7. The Gym Spotter- I always like when a dude asks me to spot him because it makes me feel very manly for a few minutes. I can help a dude lift a bunch of weight, then compliment him on his set, and give him an awkward handshake/half hug. And all the while, my crotch region is placed eerily close to said lifters head and no one thinks that is weird because you are at the gym.

8. Sports Movie- I cry at movies all the time. Before Sunset, You Can Count On Me, Billy Elliot, Big (it gets me when he turns back to the girl at the end), Good Will Hunting, and Home Alone (don't even ask). They all get me. And invariably, some one of my truly manly men friends will make fun of me for crying at a movie. Then I can point out to these friends that they cried at Seabiscuit or Chariots of Fire or Rocky or Remember The Titans or Million Dollar Baby and they will have to be quiet. Thanks sports movie genre.

9. cbssportsline.com- I used to run fantasy football leagues and I had to do all the math by hand. I won it one year and was accused of cheating. Then, cbssportsline.com was invented and I won three leagues without having to prove that I didn't cheat, thus proving that I was a fantasy genius. Despite the fact that I drink pink drinks.

10. The Fact That The Goo Goo Dolls Were First Played On FNX- I admit it. I like the Goo Goo Dolls. And I am frequently ragged on for this. Fortunately, their album that sold about 71 copies (Superstar Car Wash for those of you scoring at home) was played in the summer of 1992 on 101.7 FM, the True Alternative. True Story (thanks again Ari).

11. Zagat- If it were not for this $12.95 guide that has 6 line reviews of places to eat, I would not be near the poseur/pretentious restaurant snob that I currently am.

12. Boxer Shorts- Here is one I am confident that I am not alone on. But I remember having to change for gym (I mean PE on the odd chance, LD, Mirasolo, The Fogarty's or Adam is reading this) and feeling ridiculous because I was wearing tightie whities. Boxers at least made me look like I was wearing a pair of shorts as opposed to smuggling plums in my Hanes.

13. Hugh Grant- When I am hanging out with my two sisters and I say that someone is hot, one of the two of them will always point out that the girl in question is "gross." They have called Denise Richards gross because of her eyebrows and the girl from DVD on TV gross because she is cheesey. However, I can always defend myself by saying, "Hey, Hugh Grant found Divine Brown attractive enough to pitch Elizabeth Hurley for a few minutes, so at least my taste isn't as bad as Hugh Grant's." Of course, they would probably find something wrong with Elizabeth Hurley.

14. Zombies- Zombies have given me the outside hope that I will not die like some ordinary average person. I will not fall victim to heart disease, cancer, or an automobile accident. With Zombies, I can still have the hopes of dying bravely as I fight along side Ving Rhames, Cillian Murphy, and Sarah Polley. Course, with this scenario, there is also the outside chance that I would die about 9 seconds after the zombie outbreak and I'd be walking around looking to eat peoples brains. And given the fact that the few times I shot a gun I couldn't hit anything, combined with my lack of speed, and my inability to thrive in pressure situations, I'm guessing that the second scenario would be the likely outcome.

15. Flat Front Pants- Bill Parcells and his ball fat showed me long ago that ball fat is not a good thing. So why then, would I wear a pair of pants (pleated) that makes me look like I have ball fat, when in fact, I do not need to look like I have ball fat? And men, I'm not the only one that can learn from this. Ask the ladies.

16. Commando- This movie hasn't done much for me now, but it certainly changed my life when I was 11. Take the hopes it gave me: It gave me hope that I could one day pick up a phone booth with a man in it. It gave me the hope that I would one day see a shootout in a mall. It gave me hope that I would break into a Costco with a bulldozer, find a secret backroom loaded with awesome guns, and use those guns to save my daughter from a guy dressed in chain mail. It gave me hope that I would one day use saw blades as throwing stars. It gave me hope that I could crash into a telephone pole, sans seatbelt, at 75 miles an hour, in a Fiero, and still live. Finally, it gave me the word pissant.

17. Burritos- This is a food that decided sour cream and refried beans should be condiments. Sour cream! A condiment! It's not just for dips anymore people! And when a food is pretty much the base of your food chain and you look forward to eating one more than you look forward to vacations, then it should probably be on a list of things that changed your life.

18. The Internet- Given what you are currently doing right now, do I even need to explain the importance of this one in my life?

How You Like Them Apples?

I guess I'm a drunk.

Every beautiful, sunny, seventy degree Saturday morning (is 12:26 still morning?), I wake up, I think, "God, this is a great day for some outdoor drinking."

What many people apparently say is, "God, this is a great day for some apple picking."

Maybe it's because I hate the fall and all that the fall brings (Tom Brady, start of school, Halloween). Maybe it's because I could never climb trees like the other kids in my neighborhood. Maybe it's because I don't have kids. Maybe it's because I hate "doing stuff" on a Saturday or Sunday. Maybe it's because I hate Route 2. Maybe it's all of the above.

But I really, REALLY hate apple picking.

I'm not sure what it is that people like about apple picking. I understand that if you have children it might be something to do to kill a Saturday. But why would I, a childless 33 year old dude, go apple picking? What is in it for me?

Think about it.....

I wake up on a Saturday morning, likely hung over or more likely, still drunk. I get in my car and drive 45 minutes west to Littleton or Ayer. All the while, I think about when I USED TO drive on Route 2..... When I was young, cool (flannels, white hats, Doc Martins, and tapered jeans were cool) and headed to the greatest place on Earth, Amherst.

After driving through 27 rotaries and stopping for a pee break at the classy Piccadilly Pub, I arrive at a giant parking lot filled with eager pickers of something that you have absolutely no need to buy in bulk ("Hey, lets get 34 pounds of something that goes bad in seven days!"). I manage to avoid running over the fifty kids dancing around the lot. Then I wait in a giant line to pay $16 for a bag that looks significantly smaller than the one I used to watch my parents pay for as a kid. I then jump on a tractor (who wants to ride a tractor? Plus, can't you get syphilis from that?) to be brought to an orchard that has been picked through a billion times over. I spy some good apples up high, but I can't climb the tree because the apple orchard Nazi yells at me when I do. So I have to get on another tractor and ride to another barren orchard.

Nine tractor rides and seventeen appleless apple trees later, I find an orchard of Cortlands, which apparently, are good for baking. I'm now so irritated and tired (plus, I ripped my designer jeans as I awkwardly and uncoordinately tried to scale one of the appleless trees) that I fill my back full of said Cortlands.

I then ride the tractor- after watching two full tractors pass by- back to the gift shop which is essentially The Central Mass Version Of Every Gift Shop In Yarmouth. Inside, I can find $15 apple pies (didn't I just pick those goddamn apples so that I could make my very own pie?), fudge (I wonder if it's as good as Cape Fudge?), Maple Candy in the shape of Johnny Appleseed (apples seem to be the theme here), and warm apple doughnuts, which actually look good.

So I go to get said warm apple doughnut because I'm starved from walking around like Kane in Kung Fu all day (plus, I didn't get the Grilled Chicken Caesar at the Piccadilly) and they are sold out. They offer me a candy apple at $6, but the fillings that had to be replaced the last time I ate a candy apple tell me to pass on that snack. So I instead just ask for a water. They are also sold out of water. This is a good move at a place where you have to walk the equivalent of a 10K just to find apples. The young girl informs me I can grab a drink from the hose, which is kind. I'm so glad they decided to stock up on water during the most seasonably warm fall we've had in 35 years.

So I get back in my car, parched and hungry, and weave through downtown Groton to get back to Route 2, which of course, is trafficky. Why is Route 2 trafficky? I don't really know. But what I do know is that one of the seven random lights that are placed on a major highway turns yellow as I am cruising home at 75. The guy in front of me stops and that forces me to slam on my breaks and what happens? My apples fall out of the bag. Now I have a $16 bag of bruised apples and a ripped pair of Sevens.

I then take my apples that have more dings than one of my little sisters cars (you should see her insurance) and whip up a nice apple crisp. It takes me four hours to cut up the apples, but I am happy because apple crisp has brown sugar cinnamon. It is also a vehicle for the Brighams Vanilla Ice Cream, because who doesn't like a nice scoop of vanilla on their hot apple crisp? I bake the crisp, dump on the ice cream and begin to eat. The brown sugar- crisped to perfection- and the Brighams are both delicious and I eat them right up. But I find myself not liking something..... THE COOKED APPLES!!!!!! They are all pushed to the side of my plate and I am now eating a snack called Brighams Vanilla With Burnt Brown Sugar On It. Glad I drove halfway across the state for that when any supermarket could have provided me with all the ingredients I need for that.

So, why did I go apple picking? I'm not sure, but I guess it was so I could "get out and enjoy the weather." Or maybe it was so I would NOT waste away a Saturday watching Candlepin Bowling and eating nacho chips and con queso. But let me tell you this..... breaking down that 7/10 split certainly would have been better than wandering around an appleless apple orchard with my mouth blistering from a lack of water.

So on the next beautiful, sunny, seventy degree October Saturday, I'm going to Falmouth to play some mini golf. Or maybe Storyland. Or maybe I'll ride my bike on the Minuteman Bike Path. Or maybe I'll rent a kayak. Or maybe I'll play some tennis.

Actually, you know what? I think I'm just going to go sit on the roof deck at Icarus and crush Cosmos. It's what I seem to be best at. Further, it's what I seem to like do best on a sunny Saturday.

I guess I'm a drunk. Wait a minute. Didn't I already know that?

It's Better Than You Think

This weekend, Saturday Night Live had it's season premiere. I watched part of it. It wasn't particularly funny. But thats okay. I'm confident it will be. Seriously. No, seriously.

I've always found it strange that people long for the "old" days of Saturday Night live. Have you seen some old shows lately? They hold up as well as clothes from H&M. But like many a comedy, something gets passed down from generation to generation as "funny" and it is automatically and forever to be deemed "funny" (think Caddyshack, which as many of you already know, I find to be completely unfunny).

As a general rule of thumb, the genre of comedy tends to not hold up very well (I don't think that any of my sophomores laugh at Charlie Chaplin) and I understand that. But it has always really confused me that people find "Jane, you ignorant slut" to be the defining moment in Saturday Night Live comedy history. The show was no doubt good and also groundbreaking (and Eddie Murphy was always hilarious), but watch some of those old skits now and they aren't funny. We have just been told they are. Want further proof that the talent wasn't THAT good? Ask yourself right now what Chevy Chase and Dan Akroyd are doing. Chevy Chase is probably verbally abusing reporters asking relevant questions of his life and Akroyd is probably watching The Great Outdoors and fondly remembering his funny days.

But what has been funny is Saturday Night Live over say, the past ten years.

We know that the show has spawned Mega Movie Stars like Adam Sandler, Michael Myers, and Will "I drive a Dodge Stratus" Ferrell. Say what you want about some of their movies (Ladybugs and Punch Drunk Love to name two), but these were three guys who are now world famous who were once making Schmidts Gay and Harry Carey skits. So they've come a long way to say the least. And it's not just the legendary skits I'm talking about that were awesome. Obviously, More Cowbell (now in the dictionary), Celebrity Jeopardy, Wayne's World, and Opera Man stand out as classics, but think of all the secondary skits over the past decade that have been hilarious. Watching Alec Baldwin talk about Schweaty Balls, listening to Kattan babble as a substitute teacher, and Ferrell do Neil Diamond have been so fun. And regardless (I mean irregarless) of what you thought of him running on the field during the 2004 World Series celebration, Jimmy Fallon and Tina Fey on the news were always awesome.

But then Will Ferrell left and it became hip to crush the show. In fact, it seems it is always hip to crush the show and talk about how it's reign is over, but then it seems to rise from the ashes. No one ever thought the show would survive the Eddie Murphy departure. Dana Carvey thought he was too important, left, and the show powered on. Farley died. Sandler, Hartman, and Myers all left. The show surivived. The most devastating blow was thought to be the departure of Will Ferrell. And the show did dip. But guess what? It's surviving (by the way, if this isn't further proof that we are all expendable, no matter what we do, then I don't know what is). But I actually think the show might do better than survive. It may triumph.

The loss of Tina Fey has certainly hurt (she was actually a better writer than anything else) and some of the young talent isn't amazing, but what we have learned with two recent skits is that this show can still be A) Totally relevant and B) Utterly hilarious. As we all know by the picture above, SNL's crowning achievement of the past year was clearly JT telling us that the first step in a nice gift is to cut a hole in the box. And before that, The Lazy Sunday rap had me cracking up.

Granted, these are only two out of hundreds of skits, but there is potential (I don't even know they name of the skit, but the one where Amy Poehler runs around like a spaz and yells "Rick! Rick!" was freakin awesome!) with young cast members like Andy Samberg and Jason Sudeikis (a Colbert/Stewart clone). Plus, the show still gets amazing and super relevant musical acts (Arcade Fire last year, Kanye to kick off the season). How MTV hasn't learned from SNL is still fascinating (scroll down to read the rant about THAT!).

While Saturday's show wasn't the best thing I have ever seen, I still don't understand why it is cool to crucify the show. Comedy in general is hard, but I get called a complete idiot when I say that Wedding Crashers, Beerfest or Superbad are unfunny, so why don't the SNL haters get crucified? Why is it acceptable to say the show sucks? More than acceptable, it's almost become part of the TV watching culture.

"You watch Saturday Night Live? God, that's crap. You should be watching good stuff like Grey's Anatomy."

Huh?

Anyways, the show is still on network television, so it has the FCC to cater too. It can never fall back on dental dam jokes, foot masturbation scenes, or lots of swearing like R rated films and cable shows can. It has to constantly be creative while never being able to play outside a very limited set of boundaries.

But in an era where so little comedy is comedic (where's the funny Dane Cook? Why is Knocked Up called a hysterical romp when all really is is an R Rated version of Hitch or any other romantic comedy?), SNL CAN be good. They are clearly on the cutting edge of change (embracing youtube for the unedited version of Dick In A Box was genius) and they are always willing to try something new. Couple that with the fact that the show STILL can reel in the big names as hosts and you have a real potential for some funny stuff.

Yes, it needs to be more consistent and I'm not even really sure why I defend the show, but it's consistently made me laugh over the years. So the next time you say "SNL is dead" remember that the same words were spoken when Akroyd, Martin, Murphy, and Chase left.

Also remember that if they HADN'T left, you would never have had this.....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8by7_SNwyO8&mode=related&search=