Candice hates meat eaters

Carnivores are just gross.

When I see people sitting around eating huge steaks dripping in bloody juices, or worse, eating pre-processed meat that was probably inhumanely slaughtered, I want to vomit on them, their food, and their offspring. How could they enjoy the taste of cooked flesh - an animal that did no harm to anyone except be born and bred to feed greedy humans. Foie gras? Poor geese are fed fat and wine in order to pump their livers so full of "flavour" that they become three times the normal size. Veal? Poor baby calves! They are so cute and little! How could you?!!? They are cute like puppies, except they're cows! You wouldn't eat a puppy, right?!

Who died and said "Hey, you humans, go ahead and exploit all the animals you see - they don't have minds and spirits of their own, anyway!" We should love all creatures great and small (cute and cuddly, and ugly ones too), not eat them because we can. Have you ever seen a meat processing plant? That knowledge alone can turn most meat eaters into vegetarians on the spot. The cruelty exhibited towards animals who have lost all sense of dignity, purpose and life at the hands of torturous murderers is more revolting than the texture of medium rare wagyu itself. Add to that the antibiotics that are added to the animal's feed to protect them from disease (which is a result of their cramped quarters and inhumane treatment to begin with), and you've got a global crisis in drug-resistant bacteria developing every day - we're all going to get SARS.

We should let all the animals be free to roam the earth as they were intended to do! Let the lions eat the cows if that is what nature intended - no matter that cows have no defence mechanisms to speak of, and that they would be butchered en masse by a bunch of hungry rabbits if it came down to it. At least it wasn't humans that did it. We could use a few fewer cows, anyway - their flatulence alone accounts for 16% of the world's greenhouse gases!

To that end, I am swearing off meat forever. The thought of a big honking bone-in rib eye, succulent pork chop or a fall-off-the-bone lamb shank sure used to make me drool, but now I just want to reversal everywhere. Maybe after having eaten it first though... cause you don't want to waste it if someone already made it... like, if it's just sitting there then my mom always taught me never to waste food, and especially not meat because it's more expensive... Anyway, yay vegans! Yay vegetarians! Yay for the raw food movement! I'm going to go eat a salad now, and it's going to be awesome.

Cy Hates When Athletes "Say All the Right Things"

My comment made on the Tyler Hansbrough post raises another issue that really, really irritates me: Athletes being expected to "say all the right things" by the mainstream sports media, and all too often obliging. The problem is that by saying all the right things, they're never saying anything worth listening to.

Hansbrough is the perfect example. I can't fathom why the sports media keeps booking him for interviews when they already know what they're going to get: the same-old tired "gee-whiz, aw-shucks, we're just taking it one game at a time" routine. C'mon Tyler, be a man! Have an opinion! (Like this guy!)



This is why I'll never understand why so many people have such a strong dislike for Moss, TO, and Ocho-Cinco. How can you not love these guys? Sure they're dicks; but they're entertaining dicks, and aren't sports supposed to be about entertainment? Is Randy Moss threatening to shake his dick at fans not entertaining? What about TO doing sit-ups while he's being interviewed in his drive way? That was so surreal, there's no way anyone should have been able to not enjoy that. And if you don't get excited every time Chad Johnson does anything, from sending opposing DBs Pepto-Bismol to threatening to use a live deer during a TD celebration, then you should just stop watching sports right now.

From now on, I'm rooting extra hard for athletes that say all the wrong things. If you like your athletes milquetoast boring, then by all means, you can have your Hansbroughs and your Mannings and your Rices. Me? I'll take my Moss's and my Roenicks and my Sheeds. At least if one of my guys says something boring, he'll do it with style:

K Hates Psycho-T Baggers

Full Disclosure: I am a fan of Northwestern, probably the worst Division 1 basketball team ever. I have cheered way too hard for the likes of Davor Duvancic, Vedran Vukusic, and Timmy Doyle. I don’t like Carolina, I don’t like Duke; I don’t really prefer one over the other. If I had to choose, I’d pick Wake Forest. I appreciate good basketball, and good basketball players. That Davidson-Kansas game was great to watch, until the last possession.

Hey Davidson! If I’m really going to “Witness” anything, it should not be Stephen Curry shriveling up and passing the ball with a second to go on the biggest possession of his life. Nor should it be your go-to-guy not having the cajones to take it to the hole, but instead jacking up contested fade-away threes the entire second half. I love the way you played the first three rounds and you made me a believer, but that second half Sunday night was killer. But enough about teams that aren’t in the tourney anymore, let’s get to my thoughts…

Ok, so Tyler Hansbrough is pretty good. He’s the best player on the best college basketball team in the country. He’s the next great white hope, following in the footsteps of Christian Laettner, Eric Montross, Cherokee Parks, and Mark Madsen. He’s a college basketball player who “tries really hard,” has a “motor that never stops running,” and “always hustles.” He’s an All-American, player of the year caliber player, one of the best in the country this year. But he’s not the greatest college basketball player since Lew Alcindor, and all the talking heads out there should really shut the hell up about him.

People, get off his nuts! He’s the best player IN COLLEGE.

THIS.

YEAR.

Maybe…

You’re telling me that if Michael Beasley was at UNC, he wouldn’t be as good as Hansbrough? If Tyrus Thomas had stayed at LSU for a few more years (and this Bulls fan thinks maybe he should’ve), would he not eat Psycho T’s lunch? Tyrus Thomas is a stretch, but…

The only reason Tyler Hansbrough is getting the press that he’s getting this year is because he decided to stay in school. Why did he stay in school? Because HE’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO PLAY IN THE NBA!!!

“But he should be commended for getting an education,” you may say. Here’s a lesson from Economics 101. If someone offers you an eight-figure rookie contract GUARANTEED, you should take it.

Let’s look at the NBA, where real men play basketball. Let’s not even go that far. Look at the top ten picks in last year’s NBA Draft. Besides Yao Jr., every other player was an early entry candidate, and every other player would have been better than Hansbrough had they stayed around. Hell, if Brandan Wright had decided to come back, Psycho T would be have the ACC Sixth Man Award on lock! Seriously though, if one of the nine had decided to come back, Tyler Hansbrough goes from the Brett Favre of college basketball to Matt Schaub. Don’t believe me? Let’s see the names…

Greg Oden

Kevin Durant

Mike Conley

Al Horford

Jeff Green

Corey Brewer

Brandan Wright

Joakim Noah

Spencer Hawes

You know what sucks? If Hawes had stuck around, Hansbrough wouldn’t even be the best slow white guy! Regardless, it is what it is, and this is the NCAA this year. UNC is in the Final Four, Hansbrough is the POTY.

But he’s not the GOAT. He’s not NBA ready, nor will he ever be. You can have your SI Player of the Year, you can have your 23 and 12 every night. You can have your Carolina blue, your Tobacco Road, your Dean Dome. Enjoy “The Bro” mania while you can, because when he’s matching up against David West/Tyson Chandler and Tim Duncan on back to back nights, your All-American great white hope is going to taste it like he dropped the soap at Statesville.

Candice hates mandatory tipping

OK, what is up with America? Why do you underpay your waiters and then expect the customer to pick up the slack? Since when did 20% tipping become the norm, with anything under 15% being considered bad service?! Yeah, fairtip.org, I'm looking at you.

You know when you're a kid and you're told you have to do something that you don't want to do, like eat vegetables or turn off the lights. So you avoid it - you dislike like, nay, you hate it. It's not until your parents stop insisting you do it that you realize it's not so bad, and that once in a while, you actually crave a piece of broccoli or an energy-efficient light bulb.

That's how I feel about mandatory tipping. The more you tell me I have to do it, the less I want to. In most other places in the world, a tip is exactly that - a tip - a reward for good service. You actually want to recognize your sweet waiter for being able to take all 4 orders without taking notes, not mess anything up, constantly refill your drink and bring you things in a timely manner. You know, what a good waiter is supposed to do.

The catch-22 is that waiters aren't paid enough to allow for average tips below 15%, so people are forced to dole out the cash even to just plain old couldn't-care-less-but-didn't-pee-in-your-food service, while employers see no need to pay waiters more than the going rate because they expect America to tip enough to cover their wage costs.

I call shenanigans. Employers - yeah you, the one who's paying your waiters something in the range of $2-$3 an hour! Get a grip - learn how to run a business or go back to watching QVC. Other countries can figure it out - pay waiters normal wages and then have a 10% tip be a sign of good service. It's not that hard. Then again, other countries figured out the metric system too...

Ugh.

Oh, and as an addendum, this includes more than just waitstaff. Cab drivers, maids at hotels, bellhops, delivery men... aren't they getting paid to drive me to my destination, clean my room, carry my bag and deliver my furniture? If they do something extra special, then by all means, but I always get this awkward "Home Alone" feeling like when Macaulay Culkin gives the bellhop some ABC gum while he stands there waiting for a tip. Why don't other people get tips as well? I'm thinking salespeople, accountants, garbage men, professional athletes, ushers, shoot, even consultants... rant rant rant! I am so angry!

John Woo hates American film goers

John Woo had toiled away in anonymity in the Hong Kong movie industry for seventeen years before his critically and internationally acclaimed, genre redefining blockbuster A Better Tomorrow was released in 1986. The film was widely praised for its exceptional performances (including that of Chow Yun-Fat) and highly stylized action sequences, and went on to inspire many successful American filmmakers, including Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, Sam Raimi, and the Wachowski brothers.

Woo’s next few Hong Kong produced projects – A Better Tomorrow II, The Killer, Bullet in the Head, and Hard Boiled – were all similarly well received, and he began earning comparisons to Alfred Hitchcock (from Sam Raimi), Michelangelo (Quentin Tarantino), and Martin Scorsese (Jean-Claude Van Damme, and if anyone knows quality cinema, it’s Jean-Claude Van Damme).

I’m telling you all of this to properly put in perspective how egregiously and sickeningly horrible John Woo’s contributions to American cinema have been. Just as a refresher, here’s what he’s blessed us with so far:

Hard Target: Arguably his best American movie, in an entirely guilty pleasure kind of way. Wilford Brimley and Van Damme’s pantheon level mullet (take a second and bask in its glory) alone make this movie tolerable. Unfortunately, the actual filmmaking paled in comparison. Its budget was about $15 million, it made about $32.5 million in the US. Although I don’t completely agree, this is a great quote from a critic reviewing this movie: “Hysterically inept attempt at action filmmaking.”

Broken Arrow: Normally I wouldn’t complain about your average dumb action movie, but I couldn’t even enjoy this when I was fourteen. And if a fourteen year old boy can’t enjoy your movie filled with stealth bombers and nuclear explosions because it doesn’t make any sense, then you, sir, have made a terrible movie. Not only does it not make sense, but it’s also incredibly predictable. Now tell me, how the hell does that happen?! Now the movie makes even less sense! You’re into negative sense-making! Gaah! Estimated budget: $55 million. US gross: $71 million. Favorite critical review: “If movies were censored for implausibility, this would be deemed unfit for public viewing.”

Mission Impossible II: This is shiny-packaging-with-nothing-inside movie making at its finest. I’m not sure which part of this movie was more absurd: the kicking the gun that was buried in the sand that in turn comes to float perfectly at eye level then grabbing it and shooting the bad guy, or everyone wearing masks to the point where the links between actor and character become nonexistent. I’m sure someone could make the argument that this was the screenwriter’s commentary on the true nature of identity, but the utter inanity of the rest of the movie would tend to disagree. Budget: $125 million. US Gross: $215 million. Spot-on critical review: “Even more empty a luxury vehicle than its predecessor, M:I 2 pushes the envelope in terms of just how much flashy packaging an audience will buy when there's absolutely nada inside.”

Face/Off: Shut up. This movie sucked, and you know it. Granted, it’s not as bad as the previous two, but the horrific performances and almost non-existent plot are completely disguised for most people by the flashy action sequences and massive explosions. But here’s the thing: the action sequences aren’t even that good! They’re cheesy but with slow motion gravitas. C’mon, Miami Vice had better boat chases. Plus why would I want to see a terrible actor trying really, really hard to act exactly like another, different terrible actor? And then you have the second guy trying to act just like the first guy! Whose idea was this?! I’m mildly surprised that the universe didn’t rend itself asunder right then and there. Budget: $80 million. US Gross: $112. “A $100 million movie with a $3 plot.”

Windtalkers: Ugh, Windtalkers… A brilliant idea for a story, executed about as horribly as one could imagine. “Hey, we should make a movie about Navajo code talkers during World War II, nobody’s ever done this before!” “Great, get me Nic Cage and Christian Slater on the phone!” There’s really not much more I need to say besides: Production Budget: $115 million. Adverting Budget: $30 million (largest ever). US Gross: $40 million. “It's a film so terrifically inept, on so many levels of direction, performance and intent, that it demands and receives its audience's full, stunned attention.”

Paycheck: I haven’t seen this, and neither has anyone else I know. Not a good year for Ben Afflek: Paycheck, Gigli, and Daredevil. That agent better be jobless right now. Budget: $60 million. US Gross: $54 million.

Although this increasingly long rant may make it appear otherwise, I don’t think John Woo is a terrible film maker. The movies he made in the Hong Kong industry prove that, and were some of the best that the action genre as to offer. His American movies, on the other hand, have been just plain bad when viewed in a vacuum, and nearly unforgivable when viewed in the context of those earlier successes. At least the box office numbers seem to suggest that America is catching on. With that said:

“I've gotta go. I've got a government job to abuse, and a lonely wife to fuck.”
-Castor Troy

Anna hates pervasive smells

Don't eat tuna around me. Don't make so much bacon that my clothes take on the smell. If you smoke, fine, just don't do it around my hair so that the smell of your cancer is still prevalent when I take a shower three days from now. If you've eaten sooooo much delicious seafood that -- wow! your fingers still smell like it! -- keep them the hell away from me, because I will vomit on your face and then punch you in the foot.

Ok, blah blah blah, some foods smell bad and make me angry. And to be honest, I realize that some of them aren't avoidable. For example, I choose to subject myself to a wide range of potentially offensive smells each time I enter a restaurant. Fine. Yet on the other hand, say, at my office, I have no choice but to be here. I must take the train each morning, walk to this building, take the elevator to the 16th floor, and sit behind this desk for what feels like 37 hours each day. Before going home and doing it again.

So this morning, when the smelly man got into the elevator with me in the lobby, I was already angry. I loathe these elevators on their own; there are four, of which only three are working at any given time. They make phantom stops at floors that no one wants to stop at, they stop halfway between floors a la Being John Malkovich, and though I have never been "trapped" on one like everyone else in this building has, I really believe it is only a matter of time before I plummet all 16 floors to the basement and die. So every time I need to get anywhere, I am already filled with dread, anxiety and the rage of 1000 burning suns.

It takes forever to get to the 16th floor on these elevators, so when the smelly man got on, I knew that I was committed to at least one full minute trapped in this man's stench. Seriously, he smells like the subway after it rains so it's a little musty in addition to whatever foul godforsaken and probably poisonous substances are already on the subway platform. And a little bit like tuna. And the worst part about the smelly man is that he's in a wheelchair, so I can't even make fun of him and you have to be super nice and hold doors open and stuff, knowing full well what is to come. And you're probably already judging me for it, but you know what? The man stinks. If Christian Bale had gotten on that elevator with me and smelled like that, I'd be just as pissed off. And I'd probably stop sending him fanmail. Hourly.

K Hates Opening Day in Japan

8:05 AM,

On a Tuesday,

In Minneapolis, MN.

It’s March 25^th, and the snow on the ground is very visible. I, as I usually do, head into my living room, and turn on the flatscreen before I start work. It’s a Tuesday; a boring, normal Tuesday in Minneapolis. I turn on ESPN2 to hear my third favorite morning “radio but actually on TV” personalities, Mike & Mike. Again, it’s a boring, normal Tuesday in Minneapolis.

This is not a normal morning, however. In the stead of Greenie and Golic in the morning on ESPN2, I find what seems to be an exhibition game, in HD, between the Boston Red Sox and the Oakland Athletics. It’s in the 10^th inning, it’s tied, and the announcers still care.

The questions start flowing out of my head:

• Why would someone still care about a 10^th inning game on a Tuesday morning?
• Why is Big Papi still in the game? And why is Houston Street pitching to him?
• Why the hell is Houston Street INTENTIONALLY WALKING BIG PAPI ON A BORING, NORMAL TUESDAY MORNING IN MINNEAPOLIS?
  

My realization arrives about a second before some anger that this is not an exhibition game. This is not a drill. This is Opening Day. Wait, wait, wait, this is Opening Day? This is the REAL Major League Baseball Opening Day? No way.

Where’s the bunting? Where are the flags? Where’s the President throwing out the first pitch in Cincinnati? Where’s the full-team introduction? Where’s that old lady with the fourty-five Cubs pins on her hat? Where’s that 3^rd grader skipping school to go have a catch and a dog with Dad down at the ballyard? Where’s that feeling in the morning of waking up, regardless of your age, and knowing there’s a chance, if only for today, that your team could win the World Series? WHERE IS MY OPENING DAY?

Oh wait, it’s in the Tokyo Dome. The Tokyo Dome, in Tokyo, JAPAN!!! There’s no Wrigley Field ivy, there’s no Green Monster, there’s no Yankee Stadium, there’s no parade in Cincinnati. There are people dancing all over the field like it’s the halftime show of the Super Bowl. Opening Day is in Tokyo! This explains why I’m watching the 10^th inning at 8 AM, but I feel no better.

Call me an overzealous American, jingoistic, whatever. I am not familiar with Japanese culture or much of their baseball, so I will not pass judgment on that. What I am familiar with is Opening Day, and this was not it. Maybe I’m not as pissed about this game being a “real” game as I am about the fact that the first game of the season is not in America. Think about it, tradition is what carries baseball in America – peanuts and cracker jack, let’s play two, amphetamines in the coffee, that fat bald dude singing God Bless America EVERY GAME in the Bronx. Without traditions, baseball is not America’s Pastime, and the biggest tradition is Opening Day.

I love how the few Japanese baseball players I've seen play the game; the professionals who’ve come to the bigs have played the game with an emphasis on fundamentals and “the little things” that other Major League players routinely forget (e.g. Emil Brown in the 10^th inning getting in a rundown already in scoring position, hence costing the A’s a win – IN A REAL GAME!!!). American baseball players could take a lesson from the Japanese, and we’d have a better game.

Maybe this isn't so bad. Alright, fine, ESPN. You can have Opening Day in Japan. It was actually a nice ending to the game, as the A’s strung together two hits after Brown was taken down in a pickle, but his bonehead move killed the chance for a tie, and the Sawks win 6-5. Papelbon gets a scary save after Street blows one and takes the loss. Simple to say, it was a tough start for closers. Baseball is back, my fantasy team is set; I’m ready for this to start. This boring, normal Tuesday morning in Minneapolis is Opening Day, I think.

But then (THEN!!!), ESPN had the balls to play me a commercial about the joys of the real Opening Day, which is not, allegedly, until next Sunday Night. “These two words – the hope of a new season… Play Ball. Opening Day next Sunday Night and Monday on ESPN and ESPN2.”

Which is it? Kiss. My. Ass.

Oh, well.

It’s still a boring, normal Tuesday morning in Minneapolis, and I just missed Opening Day. Or did I?

Candice hates pleated pants

Why do guys still wear pleated pants and think it's OK? Pleated pants went out of style for women about 15 years ago - but for some reason there are still many, many men who go into a store to buy pants and say to themselves "man, those pants with the pleats - those make me look good."

Pleats make your legs look like drumsticks (of the turkey in barbecue sauce variety at the Taste of Chicago) wrapped in clown pants (or you might be MC Hammer), and manage to distract the eyes from even the most stylish of shoes, shirts and accessories (no, that bling-bling hoo-ha shiny watch doesn't make you any less of a clown-butt).

Out of pure boredom, I did a google image search for pleated pants - I'm not sure why, they look the same as they always do, but I wanted a visual reference for this blog. Instead, here are some of the things that popped up:

I wish there was a better explanation for the thunder thighs and the "thigh-band holster, to be worn under pleated pants"... but my imagination escapes me while I consider the irony that I doubt the gun manufacturer makes holsters for that lady's thighs.

I read somewhere that "pleats are not about style... they're about engineering". Well, why is it that women have somehow figured a way to, oh, re-engineer their bodies to release them of their reliance on pleats? I don't want to hear any whining argument about "oh, but what about my golf game?" either. Tiger Woods wears flat front pants, and he's married to Elin Nordegren.

If you really need accordion pants in order to feel comfortable... maybe we should bring back the overall trend of the mid-90s. Or all wear muu-muus. Bring back elastic pants!!!! Ugh.

Cy Hates Blogs

Blogs are terrible. They just are. It’s a fact, and the sooner you get used to it the better off your life will be. Right now you’re probably thinking, “But Cy, I read this one blog and it is really insightful/funny/deep,” or, “This one blog I read, it’s got all kinds of good baseball statistics/political commentary/celebrity gossip/poetry.” (By the way, when you read those last two statements, imagine yourself using your most whiny voice, because that’s probably how you sound to most people.) First of all, if you’re browsing blogs for celebrity gossip or poetry, your life is already over and you might as well just give up. The price of food is going up worldwide, and we could do without the extra demand that comes from your dumb mouth. Second of all, blogs are like cancer. Sure, occasionally they will do the job they’re supposed to do on a deserving subject (like Glenn Greenwald’s blog opposing telecom amnesty, or cancer killing a couple pedophiles or a white supremacist), but all too often all they produce is anger, frustration, and misery.

What makes a blog good or bad? Well, if it can be accurately described with the word “blog,” it’s probably really, really bad. Take the following:

Personal Diary Blogs: Probably the most prevalent and useless of all blog-types. Nobody cares what you had for breakfast; nobody cares what your friend Tiff said in the hot tub the other night that was soooooo LMAO; nobody cares about you period. Your step-dad should have already made that perfectly clear. Stop writing.

Celebrity Blogs: Zach Braff, honestly, I don’t care how the changing of the seasons affects you emotionally and you’re a pussy for wasting your time with such nonsense.

Sports Blogs: You are writing four posts a day about the Tampa Bay Rays. The only thing worse than you is the one person that actually reads your four paragraph analysis about how BJ Upton’s value to the team isn’t properly reflected by his VORP rating and subsequent three paragraph explanation about what the hell VORP is.

Political Blogs: Sorry to break it to you, but a blog that consists entirely of rehashed Media Matters postings and links to Huffington Post articles isn’t really a blog at all. We get it, you have the exact same views as a lot of other people, but aren’t able to articulate them as well. If Dan Froomkin wanted a parrot, I’m sure he could easily afford one.

Personal Taste Blogs: Either you’re pretending to like the Goodie Mob so you can show up all those lame Gnarls Barkley fans, or you’re telling everybody how awful their tastes in movies are because they liked “No Country for Old Men” more than “Blood Simple.” But here’s the thing: Nobody’s ever heard of “Blood Simple” or the Goodie Mob. You’re probably a hipster, and I hope you’re enjoying your tight red corduroy pants.

Alright, I’m done for now, but I’m going to come back and tackle specific monstrosities like Gawker in more detail later on. I’m also going to complain about blogs that only complain about things. I hate those. Here are some other topics that I plan on dealing with in the near future: “The Departed,” Brent Ratner, hats, Northface, consultants (sorry Candice), the American higher education system, and people that comment on espn.com articles.