Posted on by Patrick

Pressing All The Wrong Buttons

I typically don’t listen to the sound on the TV because I almost exclusively watch sports and dudes like Chris Collinsworth can inspire fits of rage and anger that can lead to health problems. But at one point in this particular game, I wanted to hear a rules explanation so I unmuted the TV. The audio was in Spanish. For the first few seconds, I thought maybe a Mexican dude had made a great play and they had switched to the Mexico City feed so we could all hear how the play sounded south of the border, but when the commercials were also in Spanish I knew there was a situation. So I did what we all do when there is a bilingual mixup or when we just need help finding answers to life’s big question – I stared at the remote.

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Posted on by Patrick

It’s Unrealistic Season

Are you getting a new car for Christmas? Me neither, so you might want to stop watching television, especially NFL games because if you watch the commercials, you may think you’re getting a new luxury vehicle with a big red bow on it … and I don’t want you to get your hopes up. If you watch the TV ads closely, you’ll notice that these new cars are typically parked in front of just-built, upscale houses and come furnished with a hot new wife, and while I can’t comment on your spouse, I do know that you’re typically thirty days late on your mortgage and that your house is sixty years old and sits on the riverbed. Anyway, there’s lots of stuff you won’t be getting this holiday season.

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Posted on by Patrick

When Newspapers Go, Brain Cells Go With Them

Did you ever have a paper route? Greg Quinn had one and sometimes I’d help him fold the papers. There’d be a stack of them waiting for him when he got home from school. He’d have to assemble the paper (it came with various sections), fold them up and then cram them into a canvas carryall that fit over his head and rested on his shoulders. Then he’d get on his bike and toss the papers, grabbing the next paper as he rode along until his canvas tote was empty. I think all the papers had to be delivered by 5 PM. It seemed like a good gig until that time of the month when he’d have to collect from his customers and some of them would tell Greg to go fuck himself because instead of delivering the paper onto the porch each evening Greg would mostly toss the paper into the bushes. read more