Wembley Stadium: A Big Stadium

The edifice actually holds up to ninety thousand people officially. Wembley might not be the biggest stadium in the world, but it reeks of history and prestige. It is the home of the English National Football Team, the FA Cup final, the Community Shield final (formerly the Charity Shield), and now of course, the National Football League.

In 2007, The New York VaGiants beat the Miami Dolphins in a muddy contest that did not provide the entertainment the NFL is so commonly known for. This year the San Diego Chargers take on the New Orleans Saints in what may be another muddy game only this time, there’s a good chance for entertainment. The muddy and soft state of the ground was not known to Wembley Stadium before its reconstruction and mars its new beginning. Since the stadium reopened in March of 2007, it has been the subject of critical remarks about the state of the pitch. Some blame the pitch for the English National Team’s failure to qualify for Euro 2008, a huge disappointment by England’s standards. Despite the conditions of the turf, the English fans of the NFL were quick to purchase tickets for the upcoming game as the first forty thousand tickets were sold in the first ninety minutes. Let’s all hope the product on the field makes it worth their journey.

Post Script: A thirteen year old boy known as yours truly was in attendance for the 1995 Charity Shield final when Everton edged out a 1 – 0 victory over the Rovers of Blackburn. A memory never to be forgotten.

-Parm

Bacchus Kirk…

Bacchus Kirk…
Apex of a Plastered Universe
(Nightlife, Bars, Life)

San Francisco, CA, 10/18/08 – Have you ever been to a bar where everyone is so ridiculously shitfaced that it feels like you’re in some sort of alternate universe? Well if not, stop by Bacchus Kirk on Bush & Taylor in SF and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. “Bacchus” refers to the Greek god of wine and intoxication and “Kirk” refers to a church or Lord’s house. Strangely fitting, Bacchus was also known as the Liberator, freeing one from one’s normal self, by madness, ecstasy, or wine, and the frenzy he induces, known as “bakcheia”, which happened to be in full effect last night. It started out as a normal evening; I met Gramps to shoot some pool and there was this group of haggard Danish dudes who had been boozing all day at the Red Bull soap box races, one of which wrote his name on the white board for pool and it looked like chicken scratch from a 5 year old doctor. Nonetheless, everything was pretty standard until a group of about 25 socialites coming from a bowling alley wedding reception showed up and all hell broke loose. The place instantly turned into a sloppy old person dance party which was actually pretty entertaining, until I noticed one of the freaks watching us play pool and rolling her eyes like she was watching a bunch of mentally challenged toddlers trying to do quantum physics. We made eye contact and I gave her a little nod like “What the fuck’s your problem?” and she automatically came over and proceeded to tell me that this was the most pathetic game of pool she’s ever witnessed. In so many words I told her to fuck off and get over herself and continued with my game. A couple minutes later another tore-back individual, who was wearing a Bill Clinton mask for whatever reason, was dancing wildly and unknowingly knocked over the devil woman’s full glass of chardonnay and continued on with his embarrassing charade, which was absolutely awesome. Devil woman proceeded to flip out and Bill Clinton’s friend bought her a new glass of wine to calm her down. The pompous bitch then decided to skip about 3 people in line for pool and began playing against this cool little skater chick. I noticed this about half way through, called her out on it, we bickered back and fourth for a few minutes then she continued with her subpar performance, all while exuding pool snob retardedness. The skater chick ended up scratching on the eight ball and devil woman made some comment like, “Don’t you think it’s fitting that I won?” and the skater chick’s friend came up and gave the Asian pool Nazi a nice elbow to the back. At this point shit started to go down. Half the bar’s hammered patrons were trying to break up the bullshit and calm the bitch down, all while she was screaming that she was a lawyer and the girl was going to jail, etc, etc… Eventually the bartender kicked the barnacle out, but she proceeded to call the cops in an attempt to press charges. All in all 6 cops showed up and while eavesdropping on the Nazi’s side of the story I felt the need to get involved, so I dropped some knowledge to the pigs and they agreed that the pompous bitch was retarded and that they were completely wasting their time. Bottom line, if you hate life that much, you should just stay inside your apartment watching Requiem for a Dream on repeat, drowning in your own bitterness and depression, because all you’re doing when you go out is spreading negative energy and making yourself look like a douche bag. After that, the drama may have been over, but the “bakcheia” was only getting started as the drinks continued to flow. From the Clinton masks, to the guy/girl (not sure) dressed up like a geisha, to the dude in a kilt and the blacked-out Danish air guitarist who looked like Peanut and told me about Scottish sheepherders who eat corn with sheep’s blood, to the barney that wiped off a whole white board of pool players to plan out his jukebox playlist, to the overweight guy confessing in detail his desire to screw all the older women in the bar, something about this place just makes people loop the fuck out. I don’t know if the planets align when you walk through the front door, if there’s something getting pumped through the vents or being put in the drinks, or if it’s the work of a Greek god, but whatever it is… Bacchus Kirk is fucking awesome!

Get Bacchused or Go Home…
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If Only San Diego Had a Good Brees

I know many people have debated the value of Drew Brees at the time of his signing with the New Orleans Saints, but has anybody thought about the amount of success he could have had with the soon – to – be – elite Chargers? Thinking about that puts a smile on my face and I’m sure there’s allotta people out there feeling the same way. He was our man and he earned our trust as Charger fans, but we let him go. A wise person can relate to how the Chargers, back in ’06, sent Brees down south ‘cuz the Bolts didn’t wanna guarantee him a dime after having shoulder surgery that offseason. A smart man will also see that the guy has been worth much more than a dime since then. And what about Phillip Rivers you ask? I’ve always supported Rivers ‘cuz he’s all I got, but that does not mean I ever turned my back on “Hurricane” Drew. I’ve watched him from afar throw touchdown after touchdown wearing gold and black wishing he’d never left San Diego. The only reason I know this is because the Bolts became a true AFC powerhouse the following year, going 14 – 2 and pretty much dominated every team they faced, and Drew stepped up to take his team to the NFC Championship. Despite the fact that we earned a bye that year and were picked to win the Super Bowl, the Bolts succumbed to the New England Patritos exposing an inferior leader at quarterback. These are two signs telling us that success was inevitable had there not been a divorce. I bet Brees watched every second of that game and most of the previous ones wiping his tears with crisp Benjamins. Drew, you would have won that game by two touchdowns because you don’t fear good teams and you don’t look like a teenager when you throw a football. “Cool” Brees would have probably won two titles by now, but I don’t want to act like hindsight’s a bitch. The Chargers have enjoyed playoff football three out of the last four years and have many fingers to point when asking why they haven’t won the whole thing. I spent twenty years(minus my infant years when I am sure I didn’t care) wondering if the Chargers would ever sustain a decent run and it has happened for the most part (no super bowl). As you can see life as a Charger fan is bittersweet. My favorite quarterback is in New Orleans on a team that is pretty good, but my Chargers are already pretty good and just need to act like it. Together they could have been so much. Oh well.

Diamonds Are For Suckers…

Diamonds Are For Suckers…
A Girl’s Best Friend Revealed
(Marketing, Economy, Style)

San Francisco, CA, 10/13/08 – First of all, I just want to say, no offense to anyone getting married or anyone who has bought a diamond for themselves or someone else. A diamond’s strength and aesthetic qualities are very impressive, but have you ever thought about the reason why a diamond is the end on and be all when it comes to wedding rings? No? Well maybe that’s because you’re a fucking sucker and will go out and drop two months salary on a little rock just because you think you’re suppose to. Bottom line… it’s marketing at its best. For most of the 20th century, De Beers sold 85% to 90% of the diamonds mined worldwide. With this leverage, it could artificially keep diamond prices stable by matching its supply to world demand. Although, with competition on the rise, the way De Beers did business was simply not viable anymore. In the face of declining market share, De Beers began focusing on adding value to the diamonds already under its dominion through marketing and branding initiatives. In the late nineteen forties, De Beers hired an advertising agency to help increase its sale of diamonds. The agency, N.W. Ayer, developed an extremely successful campaign linking diamonds and romance. The campaign invented the slogan “A Diamond Is Forever,” meaning that a diamond is a never-ending sign of love. It also meant that a diamond would always keep its value. The company continues to use the slogan in its advertising more than fifty years later and reports say it has been used to advertise diamonds in at least twenty-nine languages. The advertising industry also recognized the huge success of the saying. In 2000, Advertising Age magazine named “A Diamond Is Forever” the best advertising slogan of the twentieth century. While De Beers has achieved its stronghold on impressionable fiancés everywhere, they have also indirectly caused the sought-after gemstone to become the driving force behind dictators and revolutionary entities, especially in Africa, using slave labor to mine blood diamonds to fund conflicts. A blood diamond (also called a converted diamond, conflict diamond, hot diamond or a war diamond) refers to a diamond mined in a war zone and sold to finance an insurgency, invading army’s war efforts, or a warlord’s activity. A conflict-free diamond is a diamond whose profits are not used to fund wars and which is produced and mined under ethical conditions. Only diamonds that are certified and can be traced from the mine to the consumer are conflict-free diamonds. However, conflict diamonds are still being sold today into the international diamond market as clean. So when you’re out there at the mall about to throw down some scrill for your girl, remember that while you may be the man of her dreams, you’re also one gullible murderer.

Get Suckered or Go Home…
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Kerouac, Lopan, Murs and the Wildcat Offense

I love reading Jack Kerouac for the simple reason that he doesn’t use traditional writing methods to convey thoughts. His stream of consciousness style along with the fact that the guys was sober for about 2 hours a day make his books some of the most interesting reads to this day. The beats live on.

The day that I can watch “Big Trouble in Little China” and not want to cruise the alleys of Chinatown looking for the Lords of Death is the day I have lost all reason to live. I still have voices in my head telling me that the Wing Kong Exchange actually exists and that Gracie Law is still in her late twenties looking for David Lopan. It may be true that Chinese black magic does not exist, but in my world, I’d rather believe that it does. Sorcery, magic, and the reality that “his flesh and bones become atomized and he becomes a dream.” That’s what I’m all about.

Murs dropped a great new album called, “Murs for President” and here is my thoughts on it… I think it is pretty much a collection of bangers with a few droplets of pop/mainstream bullshit mixed in. Something I did not realize when purchasing this album, is that Warner Bros. released it, officially dropping Murs from the high ranks of the “Underground” and elevating him to “MTV” status. I really don’t care anymore. I don’t watch MTV and I encourage anybody not to. I also do not talk about the “Underground” scene as anything more than a historic time period where hip hop was celebrated without any outside distractions. These days nobody is truly “Underground”, but they can be “Independent” or “Mainstream” and still be respected by any music lover. The lines have been blurred and so Murs felt the need to make his music more accessible to the world and I will not judge him for it. There was a time when I would get all Lopan on you if you tried to call a hip hop group “underground” when they were on a major label and had a video out. Now a days, I just don’t care.

The stupid “Wildcat” offense that the Miami Dolphins have used to embarrass the two teams that met in last year’s AFC Championship game is actually fun to watch. It just so happens that they made my Chargers look like a bunch of teenage girls at a high school field hockey game and I am not happy about it. I enjoy watching different formations, clever play calls, and unique running plays that catch traditional defenses off guard, but not against my team. The only solace I got from last weekend’s horrendous game in Miami is that Roger Goodell fined Ronnie Brown for orchestrating that stupid “Cupid” dance he performed after scoring off a “Wildcat” run. Whoever thought that dance would be a hit was right I guess, but it looks pretty damn stupid to me.

Renting and venting from the bay where Blue Angels fly and people apparently like to kill themselves.

-Gramps

Football Fury

I’ve been trying to control my urge to write about football each and every day, but something tells me that if I hold in all my urges, someday I will be smitten. Hence, I write about the oblong shaped ball or object, and how it is possible to have such a unique item affect one’s life.

Here it goes:

Pacman got into a fight with a Dallas Cowboy-owned security guard who was apparently hired to watch (babysit) Jones. The scuffle is soon to be headline news in what has become the most dramatic career of a NFL player since I have been born (1981). It is hardly surprising that someone with his lack of giving a fuck could ignore his probationary measures and risk his NFL status once again. Good luck buddy.

How ’bout them Chargers? They look like a bunch of Folsom Street Fair – going, chap – wearing, gender-neutral people waiting for lightning to strike them. There is no charge in this team. The only thing keeping me going is knowing they still have the same players that got us to that AFC Championship game last year, so they can’t be complete losers. You know that the original logo for the Chargers was a horse and right now that is fitting cuz the bolts look like Barbaro at Preakness.

Good luck bolts.

God, that felt really, really good.

Here’s to TO whining and giving thanks to god, bad teams winning something, and cheerleaders. Peace, love and football.

-Gramps

Critical Mass…

Critical Mass…
Saving the World Two Wheels at a Time???
(News, Politics, Life)

San Francisco, CA, 10/4/08 – If I was hip enough to mash through the city on a fixed-gear, skidding down hills, weaving through traffic, tourists, and the homeless, all while drinking a Pabst and smoking a P-Funk, I would be that much cooler, I would get around that much faster, and I could hang out at Dolores Park on Sundays with a 22oz. and a bandana around my neck, but to be honest, I have enough close calls just fucking walking that I would probably end up dead under a Muni bus within a week. That being said, unfortunately I was not in attendance Friday, September 25th, 1992 at 6pm when a couple dozen cyclists took to the streets of SF to participate in an event, which at that time was known as “Commute Clot”. With hopes of drawing attention to how unfriendly the city was to bicyclists, this group of vigilantes reclaimed the streets for the evening. Soon after, Ted White’s documentary about bike culture overseas, Return of the Scorcher, effectively changed the name of the event, which is now attended by thousands upon thousands of cyclists every month in over 300 cities worldwide, to “Critical Mass”. The documentary depicted the Chinese phenomenon where traffic would “bunch up” at intersections without signals until the backlog reached a “critical mass”, at which point that mass would move through the intersection in an orderly manner. As the event has grown over the years the mass rides have been perceived in many different ways. Some see Critical Mass as a monthly environmental political-protest, characterized as part of a social movement, while others insist that the event is simply a “celebration” or spontaneous gathering. This allows Critical Mass to argue a legal position that its events can occur without advance notification of local police. As you can imagine, thousands of bicyclists taking over downtown areas of cities on a Friday at rush hour can cause some serious traffic issues and piss a lot of people off. Many critics have claimed that Critical Mass is a deliberate attempt to obstruct automotive traffic and disrupt normal city functions, which have caused numerous incidents between cyclists and motorists or authorities resulting in violence and arrests. So whether our two-wheeling friends are out there to save the world, disrupt societal functions, or just take a peaceful ride, come the last Friday of every month… the situation is critical.

Get Critical or Go Home…
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