Brooklyn Bacon Takedown

Guys: It is almost time to ride the Bacon Warpig!



Finally!

Seriously, though, it is a 30-bacon-recipe smackdown and something called the Bacon Warpig at a bar called Radegast Hall in Williamsburg. This cannot possibly not be awesome. That sentence is a little awkward because of the double-negative, so you may also think of this event as can't be not impossible to not be awesome. Or maybe, you can't not disagree that this can't not be impossible to not can't be unawesome. Um. JUST GO TO IT, OKAY.

I think all of the Brooklyn-based Bac-Log enthusiasts should go and take pictures and make friends (because networking is an important part of the New York lifestyle.) [Note to Sara: I heard that all of the bacon they used is actually locally-produced artisan vegan bacon, they're just being chill and not advertising it that way.] [Note to IFK and Kevin Bacon: [SARA DON'T READ THIS] Don't worry guys, it's totally meat, probably meat-fed meat stuffed with more meat inside. Probably even the air will be meaty.]

Quote from Skulls and Bacon blog:

And it's in a beer garden which is just like icing on the meat cake.

Yep. March 29. If you guys don't go get hammered and ride the Bacon Warpig I'm going to be pissed.

SNOWPOCALYPSE: Part More

Chapter [last chapter+1]

I awoke at the crack of the 4th snooze cycle on my trusty sidekick alarm clock, Clocky.

"Gdmornin, Clocky," I grumbled.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, said Clocky.

"What! What's that, Clocky? Timmy is trapped in a well?"

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP, Clocky replied, and we both laughed. Or beeped more, depending on which one of us you are talking about. It is our favorite joke.

After patting Clocky lovingly but firmly on the head, I rolled out of bed and noisily stumbled into the bathroom. It seemed like just another ordinary day. OR DID IT? That foreshadowing seemed sort of out of place. OR DID IT? That meta-foreshadowing seemed sort of--

I shaved, showered, and dressed, but some of the half-remembered dialog betwixt Clocky and I still lingered. Is it just me, or was there some subtle inflection and overly-specific word choices on snooze cycle two? What does Clocky know? This thought haunted me as I grabbed my lunch and sweatshirt and left the warm gentle arms of my home to seek my fortune in the hard world.

I opened the door of my building and was immediately blinded by a sudden flash of sparkling white light. I must have just died! Clocky had been trying to tell me to stay in bed! Oh, what a sore trial it must have been that pitted sacred alarm clock duty against Clocky's foreknowledge of its beloved human master's death. I vowed then and there that when my turn comes to haunt common household appliances to annoy and frighten the living, that I would choose Clocky as my home, so that we may be together forever. As my full and extremely interesting life flashed before my eyes, I remembered when Clocky and I first met. It was many years ago, when I took refuge from the pouring rain in a run-down dusty electronic repair shop. The shopkeeper was a stubby grizzled man with a glass eye and an ill temperament. I felt uncomfortable under his penetrating and sneering gaze, so I picked up a dusty alarm clock and inquired about its price. I needed an alarm clock because my excuse about not having an alarm clock was starting to wear thin with my employers. The shopkeeper gave a queer grin, and his glass eye sort of pulsated a little bit. "No charge," he said in a cracked voice. "This clock has chosen you. But I warn you," he added urgently, and lowered his voice to a haunting whisper. "This clock has strange powers. It can tell you strange things about the future, such as what time you will wake up, and strange things about the present, such as what time it is right now. Also, it is haunted." I thanked the creepy pulsating glass-eyed shopkeeper and went on my way, never truly heeding his last words. Funny that only now in death they come back to me. I wonder what other soul has been watching over me in intermittent silence all these years. I steel myself against the cold eternity before me and think, "there will be plenty of time to find out."

Oh wait, that blinding white light is just because it snowed. Again.

*Yawn*

SPECIAL TWIST ENDING:

The day after I met Clocky I returned to where the electronics repair shop had been the day before, but found only a bustling kebab stand instead. I asked Captain Kebab what had happened, but he told me there hadn't been a repair shop on that street for ten years, ever since one had mysteriously burned down, leaving no trace except for a soot-covered glass eye.

Also, who am I kidding-- Snowmaggedon is awesome!

Affirmation that I have the best taste in everything

Yesterday:

• Approximately 353,000 people were born.
• Approximately 158,000 people died
• Grant figured out how to rate movies on Netflix
• 75-383 species of plants or animals became extinct.
  
• Approximately 1.2 billion pounds of potatoes were consumed

Amazing, right! It turns out you just have to click on one of the five stars below a movie title to rate it!

Okay, so I rated a bunch of movies yesterday because I finally reached the end of my giant Netflix queue of all movies that people recommended to me as "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE YET!?" I needed a recommendation, and Netflix promised to feed my ratings into a giant magical machine which would digest this information with math acid and deposit fresh steaming piles of suggested cinema at my feet. I imagine that the hordes of Netflix elves crank endlessly on recommendation machines that look sort of like this:



But with 50% less pasta.

Anyways, so I rate a bunch of movies, but I am just not that impressed with Netflix's initial suggestions for things I might like. I mean, I'm sure the Justice League animated television series is awesome and all, but I guess I was hoping for something more. So I decide to check out the "friends" section and command the Netflix elves to go crank on a different machine:



In order to find other Netflix members with similar tastes in movies.

Well, it turns out my top match (79% similar!) is someone, well, how about you just look at their profile:



*SIGH*. At least Easily_Entertained demonstrates consistency by literally rating every movies she's ever seen as 5-stars. Well, I suppose I will update my queue to include some of her recommendations, such as Dragonslayer, Spongebob Squarepants: Sea Stories, and Look Who's Talking Too.

*SIGH*

-----

SIDE NOTE: From WikiAnswers.com, which I now recommend should never be used for anything, especially building things like cars or space shuttles, or giant robots with saws for arms but who are only programmed for good:

Q. How many babies are born in the world daily?
A. "approximately 4 babies"

Hmm, that is unexpected but very interesting! But what about just in the US?

Q. How many people are born in the US every day?
A. "well, i would say that there are about 1 million people born each day in the US."

??!???

POSSIBLE REASONS FOR ENORMOUS DISCREPANCY:

1. fundamental difference in definition of "baby" vs "person"
2. improper metric or unit conversion
3. The US is 250,000 times bigger than the world in which it is contained, possibly by projecting the bulk of its size into some other dimension, like Awesome-Dimension, or Frito-Dimension.
   
4. INTERNET!

IMPORTANT MESSAGE:

Hey, does anyone have a bear-shaped honey container that is empty, or almost empty, or contains unsuitable honey for your honey needs? If so, can I have it? It's for a homework assignment in my bear-shaped honey container class in container school.



Please? If I fail this class I'll have to go back to my unpaid salt mining internship. I'll trade you some size-4 coffee filters, or a potato.

GRATITUDE: mysterious poker night gremlins

Those of you who know me well would probably describe me as "a shining example of non-stop refinement and class", or maybe "humble". I am sad to have to burst this bubble and tarnish my pristine image, but it is necessary for me to relate an embarrassing epilogue chapter of my super-exciting Monday update in order to distribute proper gratitude and credit for an amazing poker night miracle.

To preface: Some of the gang and I deployed the highly sought-after and legendary EPIC HAPPY HOUR on Friday, which lived up to its name. Indeed, we accomplished the one concrete goal that we had set for ourselves (because setting goals is an important part of personal development), which was to get kicked out of The Sloop. Victory! Afterward, I decided that I desperately needed a victory hot dog from a street vendor, so I made the choice to undertake the long and dangerous journey back toward my home, which would take me past the hot dog dude on Ballard Ave, instead of crashing at Heenkenstein's pad which was nigh at hand. Victory Hot Dog was a huge personal success, but it also put me home extremely late.

The next day, Dread Pirate Colins calls and wakes me up because his car battery is dead and he needs a jump so he can make it to basketball. Under ordinary circumstances this would not be a problem, but I had abandoned my car in Fremont at the outset of EPIC HAPPY HOUR the day before. My rough plan, originally, was to somehow get to basketball and afterward bum a ride to my car. Anyway, taking pity on Dread Pirate Colins' situation, I decide to get my car beforehand instead, and since it was sunny out, I decide that I should jog to my car. Well, where I had parked in Fremont ended up being a lot further away than I envisioned, so I ended up being pretty beat by the time I got to my trusty steed and galloped triumphantly to DPC's aid. And then we played basketball.

Between the lack of sleep, running, sunshine, and basketball, I started to fade at 5ish or so, but a bunch of dudes were coming over to play poker at 7, so I powered through (because I'm a superstar) (no). ANYWAY, the point is, I was sleepy, and then poker night happened.

Okay, so poker night was fun and awesome and filled with pizza and beer, as poker nights are want to do, but at some point around midnight I noticed that I was no longer making decisions based on what cards I was dealt. Every once in a while, I would realize people were looking at me, and this was my cue to do something with my chips. I think I went all-in against Apollo, like, eight times, for no reason other than it didn't seem like anyone else was going to go all-in against Apollo randomly that hand. I was truly a poker god on Saturday.

I eventually decided to retire my god-like poker skillz to give the others a fighting chance at glory, and also because I was out of money. I left the game and sat down on my couch to converse with Taco about the finer points of something (maybe food? whatever it was, I USED MY WORDS GOOD). Probably mid-conversation I decided to rest my eyes.

[SCENE MISSING]

I awoke sitting up in the middle seat of my couch, still clutching a half-finished beer, mouth agape as if with an unfinished word. It was dark. My stereo was turned off. The poker chips were all put away. Most of the empties were consolidated by the sink. The pizza boxes were gone. The table was cleared off. The front door was closed. In other words, A MIRACLE HAD HAPPENED.

Okay, so Heenkenstein and Jason had left before I had fallen asleep, but PIPS, Taco, Apollo, Borujewkksiehcisoew, Dread Pirate Colins, Hobo, and Steueueueck were all still around the last time I was conscious. DPC and Hobo are probably the loudest people I know, and there was music playing, and all of the lights were on, and I still just don't see any way someone could fall asleep while sitting up in those conditions.

Regardless, it seems clear that the dudes must have eaten something after midnight and transformed into adorable and courteous little cleaning gremlins, who silently swarmed over my apartment with their magic wands of cleaning and restoration. I have to give it to you guys: You are the awesomest poker night gremlins EVER. I totally owe you all a late-night tidying-up while you're asleep.

Also, someone left a food bank challenge cookbook. (?)

UPDATE: Hahaha, I just remembered that in addition to everything being clean and turned off, someone also left a slice of pizza on a plate in front of me, and a $1 bill next to me on the couch, perhaps as a tip for being such a great poker host. You're welcome. Also, YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST.

Monday

Chapter I

Okay, so last week as we were barronking at the divey sports bar by Heenkenstein's apartment for Taco Tuesday, the conversation completely devolved at one point into uncontrollable laughter fueled by $10 buckets of Session and the following gems of visual composition:









I think this is because Star Wars perfectly mirrors the human condition.

Also, huge props to Vik, Bac-log's Permanently-Interim Patron Saint (henchforth known as "PIPS") for having the Sad Vader picture readily available for handy reference on his phone. Technology gets an A+ in Sad Vader portability.

Chapter II

Check out these fan bacos by intrepid baconaut Alan:


These fan bacos are AWESOME AND DELICIOUS-LOOKING. More people should make fan bacos, and invite me over for quality control purposes.

Chapter III

A long time ago, I wrote a little blurb about bacon to serve as rich and important backstory to some other "story" I was "writing". [It is available here for your reference]. The very bestest part amongst all of the other best parts of this bacon tale was this note that I appended on the end:

[its a good thing you wrote this at work because this is easily the most pointless thing ever written]

It is amazing to think how narrow and small my scope was way back then, in 2006 or something. I was young and naive, and saw the world as both limitless and overwhelming. I thought that my feeble efforts were on the cutting edge of pointlessness, but I had no idea how deep that rabbit hole was, or, um, how far the rabbit tunnel went, or something about rabbits. It is humbling to think that what I thought was the peak of my pointlessness is probably more relevant and structured than anything I have since gracefully pounded into the bac-log tubes.

Sometimes looking back and seeing how far you've come is inspiring. It makes me wonder how much farther I can ride this out-of-control apple cart blog train thing that is plummeting down the steep slopes of nonsense.

We will see...

the LOST update you've been waiting for your whole life, or at least since yesterday.

In case you guys missed yesterday's new exciting episode of the popular television program Lost, here is what happened:

Some of the people, who I guess left the island but now want to go back for some reason, go visit Grandma in a church, and she shows them a giant magical pendulum and some science stuff written on a chalkboard, and this one dude is like, "this doesn't make any sense and I am not going back to the island and you are all CRAZY, especially Grandma here", and he almost kicks the pendulum as he stalks off. Then Jack, who I guess is the "skeptic" of the show, is like, "okay, I totally buy Grandma's story about this pendulum being able to predict the location of the time-traveling island I just escaped from, when do we leave?" Then Jack and Kate have some going-back-to-the-island sex, and then next morning Jack makes himself some coffee and Kate comes out of the bedroom, and Jack is like, "oh Kate, I, uh, totally made you some coffee", which turns out to be a masterful bluff because then she just sort of awkwardly leaves.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's inflated ego.

Okay, so now Jack has to go pick up JOHN LOCKE (who I thought was named Jim. Oops!) who is DEAD (when did that happen?) and being refrigerated in a meat locker. Then he puts some of his dad's shoes on JOHN LOCKE which he stole from Grandpa, who looks like he is maybe two years older than Jack, after Grandpa tried to escape his nursing home.

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's willing suspension of disbelief.

Anyway, ALSO, there is this woman named Joon, or something, who is married to a dude named Jin, or something, who is convinced Jin is dead because she was there when they dropped his body from a flaming helicopter onto an exploding oil tanker, or something. HOWEVER, this other guy, let's call him Johnson, convinces Joon to tag along with their crazy scheme to go back to the island because he can prove that Jin is not dead! What a miracle!

[cue Fight Club narration] I am Jack's appreciation of true love miracles.

Okay, so the gang gets on the an airplane that Grandma's sciencey chalkboard and pendulum tell her will fly through a window to the island. And guess what? THE WHOLE GANG IS THERE! Not just Jack, and Kate, and Joon, and Johnson, but also Jerry and Jimbo. FATE. Also, Jack reads a special letter that JOHN LOCKE left with Grandma, which is very passive-aggressive and not much help. I guess that's what endless toil at the Donkey Wheel of life will do to a person.

And then Jerry wakes up in a waterfall clutching a guitar case.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK TO FIND OUT WHAT IS IN THAT GUITAR CASE.

Midget Finger Dream

Okay, so usually every week or so I hang out with my friend Laura to absorb some delicious TV rays with my eyeballs and and to absorb some delicious beer and pizza rays with my tummy. Usually we focus our TV absorbing capacity on soaking up Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because it has so many great fashion tips, and is an amazingly realistic portrayal of high school life in a high school in which five or six students mysteriously die every day. The other day, however, when I was doing my usual digging through her stuff when she's not looking, I discovered that she had a couple of Netflix movies. One was called "The Number 23", and the plot blurb on the back sounded reasonably interesting, so we decided to temporary suspend our Buffy consumption for an evening and watch that instead.

Um, I don't actually remember much about the movie after beer #5 or so (5 = 2+3, TWENTY THREE! IT IS EVERYWHERE AND IS A CURSE! [That is an inside joke for those who have seen the movie]). But after the movie Laura was like, "man, that movie reminded me of this intense lucid dream that I had the other day. I haven't had a dream like that since the Midget Finger Dream. So that scene where--"

I think she was going to say something about her Number 23 Fan Fiction Dream, or whatever it was she was talking about, but at this point I demanded instant clarification as to this mysterious Midget Finger Dream. "Is Midget Finger Dream a dream in which you explore a reality similar to our own except you have midget fingers?" I asked.

"No, in Midget Finger Dream I am captured by midgets in a cave and escape by biting the fingers off of my captors. But anyway, so in this other dream--"

"Why are you in a cave? Did the midgets take you there?" I ask.

"No, we go into the cave seeking some sort of treasure, which is guarded by the midgets," she replies.

"We? Who are you with?"

"Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones and I are looking for some sort of treasure and get captured by midgets and to escape I bite the fingers off of a midget. Anyway--"

"How did you get captured?"

"I don't remember."

"Was it your fault? I bet it was your fault."

"Listen, I don't remember, okay? Somehow we get captured by midgets, because it there was a trap or something. It's not important. What's important is--"

"How does Indiana Jones escape? Does he also munch on some midget fingers, or does he escape in a much more clever and badass way?"

"Actually, um, I don't think Indiana Jones escapes," Laura admits somewhat reluctantly. "I think the midgets get him."

"What?! Do you try to save him, or send help or something?"

"Uh, no, but it's not that simple, like, I'm busy escaping and I think he would probably understand."

"Okay, so you get Indiana Jones captured by midgets and then you just run away without ever trying to save him?"

"Hey, this dream is about ME escaping from midgets, okay? Indiana Jones just happens to be in it. How about you just forget about the Indiana Jones thing."

"After you escape, do you at least feel bad about leaving Indiana Jones to get eaten by midgets?"

"Um, well, usually I don't make it too far before I wake up. Once, though, I almost made it out of the cave and could actually feel the sun on my face before I woke up."

"Usually? This is a recurring dream? How many times have you had it?"

"Maybe once a week or so since I was 10."

"I bet you have it when you regret something," I theorize.

"Like inviting you over?" She replies.

MIDGET FINGER DREAM: A recurring dream in which you and Indiana Jones are captured by midgets while treasure hunting and you escape by biting the fingers off of your captors, and as you are running away maybe you will turn toward Indiana Jones and see his outstretched hand asking for help, but you just ignore it and keep running. It is also now the gold standard by which all other recurring Indiana Jones guilt dreams will be measured.

'Lost' is appropriately titled. Also: awesome.

SPOILER ALERT: This blog post contains vague and possibly accurate plot and character information about the popular television program Lost.

Okay: A long time ago, in ancient times, when the television series Lost had just begun, I decided that it looked stupid and that I would not watch it. My impulsive reaction was probably influenced by what seemed to be an inexplicable glut of deserted island movies, such as Cast Away, and, um, that Beach movie with Titanic DiCaprio in it*.

*When we were in college and had all sorts of endless time on our hands (because why study and do your homework today when you can do it NEVER), BRG and the 'Ster and Big D and maybe some other people and I camped out at the movie theater to watch the first Matrix movie at midnight on opening day. The theater was totally packed, and everyone was noisy and excited and generally unruly right through the previews up to when they showed a preview for The Beach, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, still fresh off his Titanic success. At that point the entire theater just totally froze out of complete and utter shock. The smell of fresh popcorn became mixed with the smoke of hundreds of snark fuses blowing at once. When the preview was over, there was complete awkward silence, so BRG and I yelled, "SINK HIM AGAIN" from the balcony, after which everyone got rowdy again.

Okay, so maybe my reasons for not watching Lost were not exactly airtight (Cast Away came out in 2000, and Lost didn't come out until 2004, and I'm not even exactly sure what The Beach is about.) But anyway, the point is, I didn't watch Lost or have any interest in Lost. Then, many years later, I discovered that EVERYONE I KNOW watches Lost, and if the subject of Lost is breached in conversation everything instantly devolves into ferverous Lost gossiping. I resigned myself to catching up on this whole Lost bandwagon thing because I can't stand being outside a heated gossip circle. I started by watching the pilot episode on my computer.

Here is what I knew about Lost prior to watching the pilot:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. There's a hobbit on the show!

Here is what I knew about Lost after watching the pilot:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. There's a hobbit on the show but it is normal-human-sized.
3. Some dude is really into tracheotomies, and another dude gets sucked into a jet engine!

But then I got bored of watching the show and didn't watch any more episodes. [FAST FORWARD ABOUT A YEAR]. On Wednesday, Patron Saint graciously invited me over to his pad to partake in the ancient and sacred ritual of Lost Night with some of the gang. I reminded him that I had only ever watched the pilot, and that was a long time ago, but he was not concerned by these details. In fact, the gang was confident that they could get me up to speed, and volunteered to answer any questions that I had while watching it. Awesome!

Here is something interesting that I learned about the Lost experience: Prior to every new episode, they play the previous episode but with Pop-Up Video-style fact bubbles that reinforce and clarify important plot points. I imagine this would be extremely handy, except that I was too busy drinking to actually pay attention, so I can't personally attest to their effectiveness. One thing that I did notice about the bubbles is that they seem very inconsistent as far as narrative depth. One might be something like, "Jack is confused because he doesn't know that Julie knows that he knows about Julius, who is Jack's unborn father from the future", and then the next bubble will be like, "They are trapped on an island."

ANYWAY, so the gang gets me as much up-to-speed as they can in 15 minutes, and we dive into the latest exciting episode.

Here is what I know about Lost now:

1. Trapped on an island!
2. I didn't see the hobbit so he must have died.
3. There is a monster called Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke.
4. THE ISLAND IS A TIME TRAVELING ISLAND.
5. Some people got off the island and now have to get back on the island because they miss the good times.
6. Part of what makes the island time travel is a wheel called Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys.
7. Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys has also been, at various other parts of the Lost timeline, Polar Bear Wheel, Wheel of Polar Bears, and Jim Wheel, Wheel of Jim.
   
   Heenkypants: They use polar bears because it's so cold.
   Grant: Why is it so cold?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Where do they get the polar bears?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Where do they get the donkeys?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   Grant: Why are there no donkeys there now?
   Heenkypants: We don't know yet.
   


8. If the donkeys are broken or not there, apparently people get bloody noses because of ELECTROMAGNETIC FIELDS.
9. This one dude, who I think is named Jim, falls in a well which closes and finds the ghost of the father of some other dude, who I think is named Jack, who tells him to spin Donkey Wheel, Wheel of Donkeys, even though he just fell down a well and has a broken leg AND it's really cold AND nobody knows that time it is.
10. Heenkypants, Patron Saint, Taco and I got into a really great heated argument about the paradoxes of time travel as they relate to this one chick who tells this one dude that he told her in the past that she will die in the future but this dude doesn't remember because he will do this in his future which is also her past even though they are both in the present sort of too. The argument was resolved when we discovered we were all saying the same thing, just loud.
11. There is this rich dude, let's call him Colonel Fancypants, who sends a ship to destroy the island because he was there in the past and something blows up, I think, and there is a helicopter and some French people.
12. Smoke Monster, Monster of Smoke, really lives up to his name.
13. ALL six people who left the island MUST get back the island to make some crazy scheme work, but, oh, you only got 4 of them to agree? That's pretty good I guess.
14. Everyone's name starts with a 'J', except for Kate, who Heenkypants wishes was back on the island so she could wear dirty tank tops again.
15. There is an important lesson about when life starts in an unborn child, as it pertains to the 6 people who left the island who now have to get back to the island, because one of them is pregnant and/or already had a child! Does the fetus have to go back too?

Um, there is probably other stuff that I learned too, but it may require pop-up bubble refreshment before it really sinks in.

I am now totally hooked on this show!

baco is why you're fat

This is why you're fat.

I'm fat because of all of the ENDLESS GLORY AND FAME the baco is garnering all of a sudden for some reason. And by "fat" I mean "chiseled and toned in a god-like statuesque form and reclining in piles of riches".

You can get a pretty good idea of how I feel about this by taking the exact opposite of this randomly generated adolescent angsty poem:

when ppl
laugh at
something
sorrowful; just
look away and die.

i know it is what they
like, i wear teeny shoes, on
tiny feet, but
nothing about me,
is quite as small, as a
season of warmth has
come to the next
degree. maybe what's next will be
when we took the stain from
the day
i told her i see it
every day, taught it every day i
wished that this is starting
to get in. it is cold,
yet
soothing.

Hahahaha, if this poetry generator would have been around when I was 14 it could have saved me HOURS that I could have reinvested into slouching around and sulking.

past A-Rod just ruined future Christmas for everyone

Okay, so apparently Alex Rodriguez, a baseball player for the New York Yankees baseball squadron of Major League Baseball, took illegal baseball steroids in 2003 and is now RUINING THE ENTIRE 2009 BASEBALL SEASON FOR EVERYONE. Amazing! In addition to being an elite baseball player, A-Roid also invented time travel, and then used his new and limitless power for evil! If only the press would have been nicer to him, and people would have loved him more, maybe he would not have had to do this to us. We dug our own graves when we accidentally called him "ass-rod" six years ago, and then accidentally kept calling him "ass-rod". And by "dug our own graves" I mean "dug graves for our childlike wonder and enjoyment for watching baseball for the entire 2009 baseball season".

Alex Rodriguez is now batting 1.000/1.000/4.000 with RISP in situations where he can RUIN THE FUTURE, which is why he is "Mr. Clutch".

RELATED:
Here is a sample 2-year curriculum for becoming a baseball writer:
Year 1 Q1:
5cr: Overreacting 101
5cr: Exaggerating 101
5cr: Nostaglia applications 110
15 credits total

Year 1 Q2:
5cr: Overreacting 102
5cr: Exaggerating 102
5cr: Hating statistics 200
15 credits total

Year 1 Q3:
5cr: Overreacting 103
5cr: Exaggerating 103
5cr: Substituting "grittiness" for talent when evaluating baseball players that you like but who suck at the game of baseball 101
15 credits total

Year 2 Q1:
5cr: Sucking up 101
4cr: Sucking 300
3cr: Chemistry 101
3cr: Team chemistry 300
15 credits total

Year 2 Q2:
5cr: Overreacting and Exaggerating 401
3cr: Loving Sammy Sosa then Hating Sammy Sosa then Forgetting About Sammy Sosa 200
3cr: Baseball as a metaphor for Life 301
4cr: Choosing unflattering photos to accompany slanderous articles 101
15 credits total

Year 2 Q3:
5cr: Memorizing old baseball players other people seem to like 300
5cr: Quantum Mechanics 407
3cr: Baseball as a metaphor for Life 302
2cr: Smugness 101
15 credits total

90 total credits required for graduation

New year's resolutions

Okay gang, here are Bac-log's official New Year's Resolutions:

1. Set reasonable goals that will give a sense of accomplishment when fulfilled.
2. Pretend February 6th is New Years.
[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED]
3. Post shorter posts but more regularly. Include more posts of unicorns and/or Neverending Story references.

[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED]
4. Reward yourself for posting with ramen and cupcakes.
[GOAL ACCOMPLISHED].
5. Accomplish exactly 3 goals today.
[GOAL ACCOMPL... crap.. wait!... crap. ugh.]
6. Convince Live Girls! Theater to have a unicorn and/or Neverending Story-themed cabaret like I keep suggesting in meetings but everyone just thinks I'm joking. COME ON IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS AND I WOULD TOTALLY GO!
[pending]