Fucking Clemson, I swear. I love you, I truly do, but you make me crazy. Finally, after years of struggle, you make it back into the top 10. Yeah, baby. One of the best 10 teams in the country. Then what do you do? You go out on a Thursday night, wearing all white like you're a virgin or whatever, and you basically give it up to an unranked Virginia Tech team who was more than willing to see if you put out on the first date. Damn you, Clemson. Did you HAVE to go and lose 24-7 on national TV? Gawd. It's appalling. I don't even wanna talk about it anymore. So much for a BCS bowl, guys, and you can pretty much rule out an ACC championship, too. Would you like to see our fine selection of Continental Tire Bowls, or perhaps a lovely Gator Bowl? Step this way, please. --------------- My band Nonetheless is gigging tomorrow night, people, and let me tell you - it's gonna be an event. If you're in town or nearby, you HAVE to come out. We're gonna be at Tomcats in Deep Ellum, our home away from home. There's gonna be a costume contest, with the winner receiving a $50 bar tab. And the band will be in costume. Oh, yes. And you KNOW I'll have pictures of that craziness. We've got a few important dates coming up over the next couple of months, so if you're nearby, try to come out.

• Oct 28 at Tomcats
• Nov 17 at Curtain Club (Oh yeah, baby!)
• Dec 9 at Tomcats (Ryan's House benefit show)
• Dec 31 at Tomcats (ENORMOUS New Year's Eve Bash with prizes for all)

God. I still feel like a bowl of reheated ass, cooked too long. I don't get sick often, but when I do, it puts me down like a pit bull that bit someone. Today is my first day back in the office, in fact, though I've been working all week from home. No naps, no nothing, just me, "Rockford Files", and the laptop. I did get to see "Inside Man" with Denzel the other day, though, and may I just say this: Is there any genre of movie better than the heist genre? You know what I'm talking about. Think "The Italian Job". I LOVE a movie that has an intricately planned heist, especially one that makes you say "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!" at the end of it. This was one of those flicks. Rent it, see it, love it. Now. Since I DID manage to drag ass into the office, I suppose I should deliver this one day late diatribe to you. But don't worry about it being yesterday's news - it's ALWAYS yesterday's news. So sit back, grab some Cheetos, stretch out, and prepare to be mystified at the stupidity of humanity. I know I am. On with the 'tribe. ----------------------------- (From News of the Weird) In September, police in the Georgia towns of Perry and Americus were investigating incidents probably involving the same unnamed man, who provided an additional dimension to the typical foot-fetishist: religion. An 80-year-old Wal-Mart shopper in Perry reported that the man was sitting on the floor of an aisle and asked her for help with his "religious" ritual. The lady accommodated him by stepping on his hands and then spitting on him, but when he began to lick her feet, she called for help. This type of thing seems to happen every week somewhere: some freak with a foot fetish starts licking heels or sniffing shoes or something, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it's illegal to do that with an unwilling participant. Once again, I question: what part of the brain tells you that this is a good idea? Is it the same part that makes you drive home drunk as a skunk? Is it the same part that makes you diss the girl who is interested in you, even though you haven't had vagina since vagina had you? (Come on, man. You haven't been on a date since the century number started with "19". Don't be all picky now. She's nice. Roll with it.) I can understand having a foot fetish. I have a mild one my damn self. But no part of me would be down with walking up to some random chick at Wal-Mart and asking to handle her feet. Hell, they might be crusty or something. Licking a strange, crusty-footed woman's foot? Damn all that. ----------------------- (From News of the Weird) LaToya Joplin was arrested in July in Ypsilanti Township, Mich., and charged with killing her daughter, Kayla, 3, despite her statements to a sheriff's detective (read in court in an August hearing) that she, and not Kayla, was the real victim. The detective said Joplin told him "she was the one who was abused when she disciplined Kayla, because she would strike her to the point that her hand was throbbing." She was forced to keep hitting her, she said, because Kayla never said "ouch." Remember a few posts back, when I advocated spanking? Well, I still do. Spare the rod and spoil the child. But this shit here ain't spanking, people. This was assault and battery at the minimum, and most likely straight-up murder. This bitch needs to roast for this awful crime. She was forced to keep hitting her because the little girl didn't say ouch? What the fuck kind of BULLSHIT statement is that? And to make herself out to be the victim....she has zero remorse. None. This is the one time that I hope she doesn't get the death penalty (I'm not even sure if they have it in Michigan). I want her to live a long, long life. I want them to convict her, and I want her sentence to be this: convicted felons dig a hole that's about 4 feet in diameter and approximately 25 feet deep, straight down. They then cement the walls and floor of the hole, making a nice, smooth surface, reminiscent of a freshly-waxed 'gina. I want some high-quality JBL speakers mounted about 10 feet from the bottom of the hole, and I want them to play sounds of children laughing and playing, and maybe some Christian rap on a continuous loop. Then I want LaToya gently lowered into her new cell, carefully so as to not injure her. When she gets to the bottom, that's it. I want her food to be thrown in, once a day, and I do NOT want a drain installed in the floor. Every 30 days I want her tranquilized like a wild animal, lifted out, hosed down, and sent back into her smelly hell hole. If she gets sick, I want her treated with the best possible medical care until she's at full health. And I want this to continue in perpetuity. ----------------------- (From News of the Weird) In September, following complaints of diners, the health department in Springfield, Mo., notified restaurants that Debby Rose's "assistance monkey" could not be permitted to dine with her (in a high chair), even though Rose said she suffers from a disabling social phobia that she can accommodate only if "Richard" (a bonnet macaque monkey) is with her. Monkeys are generally permitted under the Americans with Disabilities Act if they perform certain tasks, as capuchin monkeys have been trained to fetch groceries from shelves for wheelchair-using patrons. However, animals that provide only emotional support fall into a gray area, according to a U.S. Justice Department spokesperson quoted by the Springfield News-Leader. Look at these people, all hatin' on poor Debby and her monkey Richard. If I saw a woman in a restaurant, eating with a monkey, I'd just assume that was her date from Match.com or something, you know? And I wouldn't judge her. That monkey might have a lot to offer, maybe even more than her pot-growing ex-boyfriend who CLAIMED to have a job at Home Depot, but never actually went in because "they keep fucking with my hours". This is the same boyfriend who never has money for the light bill, but damn if he can't buy a $150 Fathead.com static sticker of a life-sized Peyton Manning to put on the living room wall. And THEN asks Debby if he can borrow some money from her to pay HIS half of the phone bill. Surely the monkey is a better partner than THAT sour douche. He SAVED her! She was a recluse until he came along, a hermit in her own home. But did the people in the restaurant even ASK about the situation? Probably not. They just judged her and moved on, nevermind the consequences. I bet if THEY had some hot monkey lovin', they'd change their tune. 'Cause you know what they say: once you go ape, you'll never escape. Peace.

...but it ain't this one, 'cause I'm sick and too busy with work to write it up. Suffice it to say that people in the state of Texas will fry anything and eat it. In lieu of that post (which will be hilarious, when I write it), I give you this warmed-over, get-you-by bullshit to last you until El Diatribe tomorrow. Don't bitch. I cared enough to try to entertain. Yes. I did this one twice, just to see if you were paying attention. Some of you passed, some of you were like me in my Ceramic Engineering - Materials Science class in my sophomore year at Clemson. Let's just say that the professor told me not to even bother taking the final, 'cause I had no chance of passing the class, regardless of my grade. I took it anyway, thinking that maybe if I got a B, he'd pass me with a D or whatever. I got a 42 on the final. It was open book and open note. That English major was suuuuuuure looking good after that. Anyway, I'm sick, and I'm tired, and I'm gonna go rest. I'll throw up a diatribe tomorrow. Or I'll just throw up. Either way. Peace.

Alright. I'm shortening this little feature, just supplying my picks without commentary, at least until the results are posted. Y'all don't seem to like it that much anyway, and I'm only in it to look like a genius (which isn't tough), so I can streamline the diatribe-style intro shit for each game, focusing on the picks themselves, and leaving me some mental room to talk about other shit. Like this. The other day I was getting my boys ready for school, as I do every day. I'm a full service dad, and you better recognize. Anyway, we had gotten a couple of those frozen french toast and sausage meals for 7YO to experiment with, and I decided to give him one that morning for breakfast. I knew 3YO wouldn't want one, so I was all set to give him grits (we're southern), cereal, pop-tarts, grapes, or whatever else he might want. But naturally, when he saw that hot, steaming pile of french toast (which was soggy) and those shriveled little sausages, his mouth watered like Wyle E. Coyote's, and he demanded to have some. Me: "But 3YO, you don't LIKE this. I KNOW you don't like it." 3YO: "But I WANT IT, DADDY!" Me: "Lower your volume. If I give this to you, you better eat it. I'm not kidding. We don't waste food." 3YO: "I want it." Me (doubting): "Are you sure?" 3YO: "Yes! I want what 7YO has! Please, Daddy?" So I pulled out another frozen masterpiece, heated it for two long-ass minutes, and served it with a flourish. Victory. I made my baby happy, right? He immediately frowned at the plate. Oh HELLS no! Me: "Don't even start. You're gonna eat that." 3YO: "But I don't LIKE this, Daddy!" Me: "I know. Do you remember 4 MINUTES AGO when I told you you wouldn't like it?" 3YO: "No. I don't WAAAAAAAAANT THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISS!" Me: "Oh, you'll be eating that, or you'll be eating a 'wish sandwich'." 7YO: "Dad, what's a 'wish sandwich'?" Me: "That's where you WISH you had a sandwich. Now 3YO, eat." 3YO: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" This is what it sounds like...when doves cry. I don't force-feed my boys. If I provide a suitable meal and they don't wanna eat it, that's on them. I won't be the one with a rabid lion in his belly around 10am. However, growing up (and still being) poor, I loathe wasting food. So I did manage to convince him to eat a couple of bites. Afterward, I finished getting them both ready to go, rushing around as usual. I didn't notice that 3YO wasn't speaking to me or his brother, not at first. As I drove 7YO to school, he was singing to Hannah Montana or whatever, but 3YO wasn't saying a damn thing. His mouth was fixed in a pout, and he just stared out the window. When 7YO got out to go to his class, 3YO wouldn't say goodbye, or even look at him. That's when I noticed, and I thought he was just being a jerk about breakfast. So I started doing that Black Parent Monologue that you sometimes hear: Me: "I don't know who you think YOU are, not saying goodbye to your big brother. He takes care of you, he plays with you...that's just RUDE, 3YO. You better straighten up. I know that's right. If you go to school like THIS, you're gonna have a yellow or red day, and then you're gonna have a red bottom when you get home. My kids are gonna be NICE, they're gonna be POLITE, and they're NOT gonna ignore people when people talk to them. I'm not having it. So whatever your little problem is, I suggest you get it worked out, and with the quickness. I'm not kidding, either. You won't see Dora the Explorer for a whole week, if you don't chill out, and now." I said more stuff, but this is just a sampling. My head was even moving back and forth. When we got to his daycare, he still wouldn't talk. I got him out of the car, and usually he's full of questions about the other parents, the cars, why there's lights on the building, how come the sun is yellow...but not that day. Silence. I get him to his class, tell his teachers that they might need to call the cops and a haz-mat team, and I go to kiss him. HE WON'T KISS ME! Not really, at least - he gave me this weird, pinched-mouth dry-ass woodpecker-style peck on the cheek. That's when I took a good hard look at him. His mouth looked...funny. Me: "3YO, open your mouth." 3YO: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" It looked like a crime scene in there. I swear I thought Gil Grissom was about to come busting in with some Luminol and latex gloves. Remember when I told you that I convinced him to take a couple of bites? Well, he did. He just never actually swallowed them. So for roughly 25 minutes, my precious, beautiful 3YO son was walking around with saliva-soaked french toast just MARINADING in his cheeks, and he would neither spit it out nor swallow it. I picked him up, held him horizontally over the trash can, and told him to spit. It looked so nasty, the teachers thought he was throwing up. I reassured them, and when I put the lad down, he was 100% again, all smiling and laughing and everything. I just shook my head. Just when you think you've seen it all... And for the record, I DO brush his teeth. Except sometimes when we're running late. Then he gets a tic-tac and a lesson on talking away from people's noses. Well, on to the picks. 5 vs 17 Yards Per Game: TEX 402.9, NEB 458.4 Points Per Game: TEX 42.7, NEB 37 Yards Allowed: TEX 276.9, NEB 329.7 Points Allowed: TEX 13.7, NEB 13.4 Prediction: 35-28 Texas Outcome: 22-20 Texas Nebraska came thisclose to making me laugh like Pee Wee Herman at a going-out-of-business sale at an adult movie store. They had the game WON, but they let Texas march down the field and kick a game-winning field goal. Come ON, Nebraska! I was never a big fan of yours when you were running the option and killing everyone on the field, but you're kinda downtrodden now, and I really wanted you to pull this one out. You let me down, Huskers. You let me down. But at least I don't make picks with my heart. I'm no dummy. I win. Damian: 1-0 vs 10 Yards Per Game: UCLA 346, ND 388.2 Points Per Game: UCLA 25.7, ND 30.3 Yards Allowed: UCLA 272.8, ND 359 Points Allowed: UCLA 15.3, ND 23.7 Prediction: 28-24 Notre Dame (I hate them so much) Outcome: 20-17 Notre Dame (I still hate them so much) The game was as tight as I thought it would be, and ND, like Texas, had to stage a late-game comeback in order to meet my demands for victory. If I'm gonna ride you, you better win. That's all I demand. Excellence. God, I wish they'd lose so I can stop picking them to win. Damian: 2-0 19 vs Yards Per Game: RUT 342.3, PITT 418 Points Per Game: RUT 31.7, PITT 37.6 Yards Allowed: RUT 242.2, PITT 303 Points Allowed: RUT 8.3, PITT 13.3 Prediction: 24-10 Rutgers Outcome: 20-10 Rutgers Four measley points prevented me from crowing like a retarded rooster during a solar eclipse. I nailed the Pitt score. Locked it down tight. But Rutgers had to go and get all uppity and score some more. I swear, damn upstarts. Rutgers ain't been SHIT for years, and now that they've thrown up 7 wins, they think they can just bypass my wishes? See if I pick them again this season. Damian: 3-0 21 vs Yards Per Game: WISC 400.1, PUR 480 Points Per Game: WISC 33.9, PUR 33.1 Yards Allowed: WISC 248, PUR 419.7 Points Allowed: WISC 12.7, PUR 29.6 Prediction: 33-20 Wisconsin Outcome: 24-3 Wisconsin NO ONE IS LISTENING TO ME! Please - winning is only half of the formula, folks. Anyone can pick the games straight-up. It's all about the points. THAT'S where my genius shows, and if you don't get it right, I end up looking foolish. I never figured Wisconsin would hold Purdue to such a low output, not looking at both team's stats. But that just goes to show you - some people just don't listen. Damian: 4-0 13 vs 12 Yards Per Game: GT 363.2, CLEM 466.1 Points Per Game: GT 28.7, CLEM 43.9 Yards Allowed: GT 282.8, CLEM 249.7 Points Allowed: GT 16.2, CLEM 13.3 Prediction: 35-21 Clemson Outcome: 31-7 Clemson Wow. Just...wow. These guys just might be for real. I don't wanna jinx it by proclaiming them champions of anything, but...this isn't the Clemson team I'm used to dealing with. I'm used to seeing a team that basically loses its mind when faced with success and prosperity. I'm used to seeing a team start 8-0 in a season, get ranked as high as #5 in the nation, then go out and lose 4 out of 5. I'm used to a team that doesn't know how to handle the good times, but this...this ain't the team I'm used to seeing. And I like that, immensely. This team is not playing to the level of the competition, at least not this season. This team is showing the competition that there is a level that they're not privy to, and that Clemson is on that level, and they'll let you SEE that level if you just put a quarter into one of those telescopes on the side of a scenic view, you know, like you'd find in the Catskills or the Grand Canyon. All proceeds go toward an 11-1 season and a BCS bowl game. Holla. Damian: 5-0 Oooooooooooweeee! I was 5-0 this week, bringing my overall total to 21-4. 21 and 4! Negrodamus in the HOUSE! And I'm not just picking creampuff games, either. There were only two games between ranked opponents this week, and I picked 'em both accurately. I'm sorry - I'm just good at this. Someone tell me how I can make some money. For real. If I can pick up a few extra coins, I'll be better able to provide you the humor and deliciousness you deserve. Help me help you. Oh - and whoever has the best idea for me making some cash, I'll cut you in on the deal. For real. Peace.

What a day. Firstly, it's The Pirate's birthday, so please make sure you go pay homage to her. Throw flowers or Keystone Light at her feet or whatever. She'll appreciate. It's also Metalchick's birthday, so go give her mad praise as well. She's moving to Europe soon, so wish her well. EDIT: And Randi's officially an aunt today, so congratulations are in order. For her sister, not her. She just sat there eating raisins and watching "Extra". Secondly, this is officially my 200th post, and this month marks my 2 year anniversary of having this blog. Is that the shit, or what? Now, I know that 200 posts in 2 years doesn't sound like a lot, but since I don't post daily, this milestone has taken some time to reach. And since I HAVE been doing this for a while, and since a whole lot of you lurking asses are relatively new to the great experience that is Almost Infamous (which, incidentally, is the official name of this blog, in case you didn't know), I'm going to thoughtfully revisit some of my favorite posts. You'll thank me for it. Make sure you've got lots of time, 'cause I was long-winded back in the day. Also, I apologize for the size of the font. Just press the Control key and hit the plus sign twice (in Firefox) to increase it. Deal, people. Then, folks, we shall diatribe. Remember when I proclaimed myself a 30 percenter? Dirk and JR Estelle will love that. How about when I met God? Or the stories from when I worked at the mall, here and here? Or the three-part tale about my roommates, here, here, and here? Or how about my trip to the black strip club? Good times. Surely you remember the story of Odie and the Squirter, and Smuckers with the Skunk Skank. How about this? It was my first semi-stab at a diatribe, back before I really knew how. The first journey into my mind's inner workings? Gold. And who could forget the most bizarre wedding ever? No one, that's who. Or the first mention of The Pirate? And like a barnacle, she's still around. Worst drunk ever? Got it. And you HAVE to read about my trip to Italy. It might be my best writing to date. Chinese Lessons? Why YES! Got 'em all - here, here, here, here, and of course, here. Another foray into my brain. It's weird here. Or my rant against Supernanny. Oh yeah. Anyway. I've had some really good times here, and I've met some great people. I'm gonna keep rolling till the wheels fall off, muhfuckas. And you KNOW this, MAN! Let's diatribe. -------------- (From Bizarre News) DES MOINES, Iowa - What is the value of a wedding dress these days? For one Davenport woman, it was worth her 4-year-old son. Marcy Gant, 31, was charged on a felony count after she tried to sell her child for a wedding dress from a local street vendor. It seems she didn't have enough to cover the whole tab, so she offered her son to make up the rest of the balance. "During negotiations for the payment of this wedding dress, on at least two occasions, Ms. Gant offered her 4-year-old son as collateral," Capt. Dave Struckman of the Davenport Police Department said. Neighbors of the woman were shocked. "(There is) something very mentally wrong with her to think that that is OK," said Angie Bruce, Gant's neighbor. If convicted, Gant could face 10 years in prison. There are several problems with this story. Let's start with the most obvious: why in the HELL is she buying a dress from a street vendor in Iowa? If the story took place in, say, Bangalore, India, I would've shrugged and chalked it up to cultural differences, but you can't make me believe that there aren't any bridal shops in Des Moines. I bet there's two. Secondly, if she couldn't afford THAT dress, why didn't she hit Kohl's or JC Penney or ANY other place that sells dresses and just get one there? Maybe she had her heart set on that strapless tight rayon dress with the print of Tupac smoking a cigar embossed down near the thigh slit, but honey, you gotta work with whatcha got. And was she in such a hurry that layaway wasn't an option? Ain't no shame in using layaway. It's basically a reverse credit card. As for the crime of offering up her 4 year old son...any parent can tell you that the thought passes through your head once in a blue moon. I've been out in public with my boys and thought about dropping 'em off at the Lost and Found and claiming I found 'em in Frozen Foods or Hardware or whatever, but at age 4, they can talk, and the police will find your ass. She's dumb. In prison, though, someone will trade her ass for a carton of Kools, so karma will win this battle. ---------------- (From Bizarre News) ZEPHYRHILLS, Florida - Korey Bradd Henderson may have just done a little bit to much head banging to his favorite hard rock music. Maybe that would explain why the 25-year-old of Lakeland, Florida decided to wear a bright orange jail uniform to a hard rock concert when he was supposed to be under house arrest. When Pasco County sheriff's detective Mark Morrison approached Henderson in his jailhouse garb, he took off running and ran straight into two other deputies. Henderson at first told them the getup was a Halloween costume. But when the deputies checked with the officials at Polk County jail, they confirmed that one uniform was indeed missing. A warrants check told deputies that Henderson was supposed to be on house arrest in Lakeland as part of his probation on a charge of illegal possession of narcotics. Henderson is still wearing a jail uniform as he awaits his next trial. SCENE: Suburban Florida home. KOREY is downstairs in the den, playing air guitar and looking like an inbred idiot. KOREY'S MOM is folding clothes and wondering where she went wrong. Korey's Mom: "Korey, where are you going? You're not supposed to leave!" Korey: "Ma! Leave me alone, I can leave if I want to! I NEED to go see Nonpoint! They're expecting me!, God, you're so stupid!" Mom: "Don't you call me stupid, you ingrate! Maybe if you hadn't been carrying all that Mary Ja Juana, you wouldn't be Mr. Ankle Bracelet in the first place. Why didn't you just finish high school like I - " Korey (irritated): "SHUT UP, MA! Jesus, you're a broken record. Make me something to eat. Hey where's my clothes?" Mom (sarcastically): "Right here, SON. Wear this orange outfit - it'll show off your eyes." Korey: "Thanks for nothing. I'm outta here." Mom: "I should've swallowed 25 years ago, I swear." Sarcasm is wasted on Korey. ---------------- (From Bizarre News) PENNSYLVANIA - A sick practical joke ended with a Pennsylvania man laughing himself all the way back to prison. Jeffrey Barber apparently thought it would be a regular laugh riot to scare his wife by pretending he had been shot. After firing his .22-caliber rifle in the house, the 44-year-old proceeded to smear himself with tomato sauce and lay on the floor. When the missus called 911 to come to her husband's aid, the police found he was very much alive, and violating the terms of his parole by owning several guns. Barber pled guilty to illegal ownership of the firearms, and had to face the mandatory sentence of 15-years to life. This must've been funny as SHIT, in his head. I bet he planned that stunt for weeks, watching every episode of "CSI" and "The New Detectives" until he had the idea fully crystallized. I bet he told a couple of his drinkin' buddies about it, and they all laughed, except for that one guy, Ralph. Ralph is Mr. Cautious, Mr. Buzzkill, Mr. I've-Never-Been-To-Jail. I bet Ralph was all telling him it's a bad idea, and that he could really scare Mrs. Barber, and that owning a firearm is a violation of his parole, and blah fuckity blah blah blah. I bet Ralph is as much fun as tuberculosis. But they keep him around because Ralph has a hot wife and a 60" HDTV with surround sound. I bet the night before, Barber giggled himself to sleep like a silly bitch, just itching to whip out this King of All Pranks. I bet he didn't even buy blanks for the gun - I'm betting he just shot a hole in the ceiling or floor, seeing as how he could just go fix it later. And he can, now - 15 years later. What a fucking idiot. I hope Mrs. Barber bangs all his friends while he's in jail. And tosses their salad, too! As a joke, of course. Thank you so much for reading me, people. Without you, I'd be....still blogging. But no one would be reading it. Here's to even more years and words. Peace.

I have a few confessions, some revelations, if you will, that may completely rock the foundation of the Castle Damian as you know it.

• I thought I had an ingrown hair or a lymph node problem in one of my armpits, so I shaved them both to investigate. And guess what: I liked how the smoothness felt so much, I kept doing it. Today? Pits are smooth as baby skin. I am such a girl.
• I pretend to watch "Avatar: The Last Airbender" on Nick WITH my son, but in fact, I also watch it when he's not around. I've even been known to say "7YO, don't you wanna watch Avatar? I think it's on right now. If not, I bet we have one on the DVR. If not, I'm sure we can get it on-demand." This year he's dressing as the Avatar for Halloween, and I cheered on the inside.
• I love video games. Love them. Playstation 2, Gameboy, PC, hell - my cell phone, it doesn't matter. Now, I wouldn't consider myself a hardcore gamer (I don't play for 18 hours straight, and I tend to have good hygiene - see armpit section two bullets above), I am a pretty avid one who loves to play all the time. I have been known to turn down sex for a game. Oh yes.
• And History Channel, too. It was a special on the czars in Russia, and dammit, I like czars. I don't care if you don't understand. Czar Nicholas NEEDED me to watch!
• I steal chocolate-covered peanuts from grocery stores. Not a lot, not like a whole box, but when I'm shopping, I feel entitled to 4 or 5 of those li'l chunks of heaven, so I help myself. I mean shit, I'm prolly spending a couple hundred in there to feed my horde, so I should be allowed to enjoy a slight repast when the mood strikes me. Once, an employee saw me do it, and I totally mad-dogged him for looking at me. I stared him down like he had my woman's phone number on his chest. He looked away. I ate like a KING. They better be glad I don't drink out of the apple juice bottles and put them back.
• I hate my first name. I always have. I think it sounds dumb. I always wanted to be a Justin. I came close to having a cool name, when my dad wanted to name me Lord Christoff when I was born. My mom put the kibosh on THAT noise with the quickness. The name she gave me, though...I'm not a fan. In the 7th or 8th grade, I started a campaign to have people call me by my (even dumber) middle name, but that plan failed like me in Calculus in college.
• This is gonna be my Halloween costume this year:

Yeah, I know. My intent is to look like Jimi Hendrix. I may end up looking like Jimmy Walker from "Good Times". Either way, this costume is DY-NO-MITE!!

• I love to watch "The Rockford Files" and I don't care if you know.
• When I pee, I always aim for the lowest back part of the ceramic, just above the water line, because when I was growing up, it was just me and my mom for 14 years in a tiny house, and the bathroom was right across from her bedroom. Evidently she thought my pee was in polyphonic stereo surround sound, 'cause she used to complain about the noise. So I started hitting the back of the toilet, down near the water, which greatly reduced the audio factor. And I still do that today.
• I put the seat down about 90% of the time due to this same reason. A spanked ass has a good memory. Sorry, guys.
• I cry when I watch "The Natural". Shut up.

**Well, whattaya doin' reading this part? Scroll down and see how I did!** It's Friday the 13th. I ain't scared. I have bad luck EVERY day, dammit. It's called a "mortgage" and "work" and all these other scary bad luck items. Go 'head and break that mirror - all you'll get is a fractured reflection. And for some of y'all, that'll be an improvement. So, I'm just gonna get right to it today, folks. I'm tired, I'm busy, and my team has already played. Yeah, Clemson destroyed Temple last night, 63-9. It wasn't even close. My boys have scored over 50 three times, and over 60 once this season, bringing their per-game average up to 43.9. Love it. So, my football stomach is full for the weekend, quite frankly. I'm disinterested. Plus there's no real marquee matchups this week. However, that'll make my picks all the more interesting. Today I'm going with the Blue Plate ADD Special, meaning I'm gonna pick my teams based soley on whatever pops into my weird little mind. Bear with me. at #7 Cincinnati at Louisville, 3:30pm That cardinal in the Louisville logo looks PISSED, kinda like the chickenhawk from the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons. DOESN'T HE? I'm not even sure what the hell a "bearcat" is, but I imagine that the chickenhawk there will still eat him for dinner. Prediction: 45-10 Louisville Outcome: 23-17 Louisville Obviously, Cincy gave 'em all they could handle, then put the rest in a doggy bag for 'em. But they got the W, which is all I care about. Damian: 1-0 at #18 UCLA at Oregon, 3:30pm Bears versus ducks. Doesn't this remind you of that joke: A bear and a rabbit were both in the woods, taking a dump near each other. The bear looks over at the rabbit and says "Say buddy, you ever have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?" The rabbit says "No, not really...". The bear then grabs the rabbit, and wipes his ass with him. I know these are ducks, and not rabbits, but no matter WHAT they are, they're gonna win on Saturday. But it'll be tight. And who doesn't like tight? Prediction: 28-24 Oregon Outcome: 30-20 Oregon I said four, they made it 10. I'm cool with that. Another W for me. I should start a collection. Damian: 2-0 #2 at #11 Well, I GUESS this counts as a marquee matchup, even though Arkansas pimp-slapped Auburn last week when Auburn was #2. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Now Florida is #2. But they won't stink up the joint like Auburn did. What's up with me and the fecal jokes today? Jeez. Prediction: 21-17 Florida Outcome: 27-17 Auburn It sucks being the #2 team in the country. You don't get the publicity that Ohio State does, and quite frankly, you lose. Auburn was #2 last weekend, and they got pummeled by Arkansas. Florida was numero dos this week, and Auburn broke off a switch from the oak tree out in the back yard and whupped that ass. The SEC is rough this year, folks. By the way, "whupped" is much worse than "whipped". Whupped leaves marks. Damian: 2-1 at #6 Baylor at Texas, 7pm Baylor is reknown for its excellent medical facilities. In Dallas alone, there are several Baylor-related hospitals and treatment centers, and all of them are top-notch. They are unrivaled in their passion to provide superior medical care for all their patients. Which is good, 'cause the Baylor football team may need some serious treatment after this game on Saturday. I'm not saying they're gonna lose, but I AM saying that the UT players have already planned to bring a giant pallet of "Get Well Soon" cards for the entire BU roster. I hope they have really good benefits. Prediction: 49-10 Texas Outcome: 63-31 Texas Hey Softball Slut? You there? You see this score? Yeah, UT won, but what's up with them giving up 31 points to Baylor? Did the marching band and mascot play the entire second half or something? I may have thought 90 points would occur in this matchup, but I would've figured that all 90 would be on the Texas side of the scoreboard. Tell the champs they need to wake up. Damian: 3-1 at #3 Arizona State at Southern Cal, 8pm EST OK...no. Just...no. The Condom Boys are gonna put the rubber to the road in this game. That wasn't even punny at all. Prediction: 44-14 USC Outcome: 28-21 USC Oooooooooooooooooo. 7 point victory over unranked opponents, USC? See my statements to Texas above. You're the #2 team now. Watch out. Damian: 4-1 With this week's 4-1 record, that brings my overall record to 16-4, damn near making me a prophet. A non-profit prophet. Just call me Negrodamus. And tune in Friday for more picks. Peace.

The band had a show a couple of weeks ago at this little tiny bar in Arlington called Monte Carlos. It was so small, the "-los" from the name was actually sitting on the FedEx Kinko's next to it. And the clientele? Not what I'm used to. A little older, a little more...rustic. And by "rustic" I mean "redneckian". They weren't rednecks, just redneckian. They showed redneck without actually driving their homes to the bar. For example, the hot women weren't so much hot as they were not totally hideous. So what if one chick had a dead tooth that overlapped the live one right in the front of her mouth? She was NICE, and that's what counts. We just knew we'd get in there with out loud asses and blow 'em out of the water, and...well, we did. The other two bands there were cover bands, and we were better than them. Listen, I know that sounds REALLY arrogant, but sometimes true shit can be arrogant. It's true. But we're always humble in public, so we gave 'em props when they got off stage. A buddy who rolled out there with us said to me "Dude, is it hard telling these bands that they had a good show, when in reality they sucked my balls?" And I said "Yes. Yes it is. But you say it anyway, 'cause you never wanna burn bridges. You never know when you might have to cross 'em again." So anyways, here's some pics from that show. Enjoy! Jimi Hendrix on the shirt, sweaty black man on the bass. "Do you see those two hot Asian chicks? Right THERE! They're 4 feet away! Well, they're hot." Although supposedly playing one of their own songs, Damian wonders why he thinks he hears the theme to "Deliverance". He even makes this face when he's NOT singing. But just look at the synchronicity between me and Gordie! Legs? Check. Guitars? Check. Looking at the frets at the same time? Check. Trip is feelin' it. Feeling. It. Trip. Is. It's hard doing the Pledge of Allegience with drunk people screaming "Freebird!" at you. Just sayin'. Shirtless Jmart. The Fyrchk Special. Order up! Gordie, working his magic on his flying V. 4 seconds later, a rabbit popped out of his guitar. And ordered a Shiner Bock. Rowdy, mohawkin' it. Hers is bigger than mine. Word. OK. This one woman kept jumping on the stage to take pics or whatever, and each time she jumper her drunk ass up there, she knocked over my mic stand. I think I was trying to locate the missing mic at this point. Or I'm just rocking the fuck out. Either way. "'Cause I'm FREEEEEEEEEEE....Free FALLLLLLIIIIIIINNN'!" Peace.

I am such an idiot. I knew that my band Nonetheless had an internet radio interview on RenegadeRadio.net on Sunday night. I didn't totally forget THAT fact. But I did completely forget to, you know, TELL people about it so that they might listen in. I'm sorry, I was busy last week, working my pecan tan butt off and getting ready for a work-related conference for which I had to give a presentation. I was stressing so much over that presentation that I kinda forgot about being on the radio, or even being in a band. But I did manage to come to my senses as we were going on the air, and I know that DWW, Laurie, Fyrchk, Southern Canadian, Arbusto, and Fresh Air Lover got a chance to hear my band rock out acoustically to our own songs, plus some covers. It was so much fun. The best part of all was when I utterly forgot how a solo went on one of our songs, and I literally started playing gibberish through it while my bandmates all did that slow head turn with the wide eyes that says "What in the happy-go-lucky FUCK are you doing??" Overall, we've gotten some really positive feedback from the experience, which is nice, considering we'd never even attempted to play our tunes acoustically before. And before you ask, yes - it's very, very different. By the way, feel free to scroll down, find my band's logo on the bottom right of the page, and click the little link below it to buy some NTL swag. We'll thank you for it. On another note, I sprained my left ankle slightly on Sunday, because for a few fleeting moments, I thought my mother had named me Pele or David Beckham rather than the Damian moniker she applied to me. 7YO had a soccer game (no, I wasn't the ref, and no, Sistagirl wasn't there), and while we were waiting for the coach, I decided to "help" the kids by having them line up in front of the goal to try to score on me. And oh, did they score. It looked like a videogame out there, with my 34 year old ass getting SCHOOLED by some 7 year olds. Some of those kids are midget professional soccer players, I swear. Anyway, the ball had sailed into the back of another net, and I thoughtfully went to grab it (since I had failed to grab it as it zoomed by me a few seconds earlier). As I picked up the ball and started to run back to my goal, my extra-large size 13 feet got tangled in the goal net, and I went down hard, face-first, into the dirt. But me being me, I hit that ground like it was a trampoline, baby. I was back on my feet in seconds, smiling, brushing off help, and ignoring the burning/stinging sensation in my wrists, and the sharp pain in my ankle. The sad thing was that I wasn't even embarrassed, 'cause I do shit like that regularly. That makes me clumsy. OK. I know what you're here for. Enough foreplay. Let's diatribe. --------------------- ERIE, Pa. - A woman has been charged on counts of aggravated assault, reckless endangerment and simple assault after using her 4-week-old baby boy as a weapon during a domestic dispute. Chytoria Graham, 27, used her infant during the fight by swinging him through the air and striking the baby's head against her boyfriend's body. The infant suffered a fracture of the right temporal region and some brain bleeding. He is being treated at Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh, where he was in serious but stable condition. Other children were removed by authorities from Graham's home, and later placed in the temporary care of their maternal grandparents. ... I... I have no words. Wait - I found some. What the fuck is wrong with people? I know I ask this question a lot, especially around Diatribe time, but seriously - WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? Who gets so damn mad at someone that they swing a BABY at them? When I first read this story, I thought it was a joke, and I kept waiting for someone to say "hahaha" or "you got punked" or something at the end, because there was just no way any quasi-functional, semi-civilized person would even THINK to try to strike someone using another human being. It's stories like this that make me think that forced sterilization isn't a bad idea. Chytoria. Christ almighty. Here's a little rule of thumb for naming your children: if the name you've chosen has never been a name before, or even a word in any language, save up for bail money, not tuition. Shit like this makes me want to punch humankind in the neck. ------------------- BILOXI, Miss. - Attention all pregnant mothers - if your husband is an avid sports fan, you might not want to let him be in charge of naming the baby. Otherwise, you might end up like Leann Real, who now has a bouncing baby boy named ESPN. Real had promised her husband that if they had a son he could pick the name. Well, she made good on her promise, and ESPN Montana Real was brought into the world this week. Proud papa Rusty chose ESPN (pronounced Espen) after the sports network and Montana after football legend Joe Montana. "We were the talk of the hospital," Rusty Real said. "The nurses kept asking my wife if she was really going to let her husband name him ESPN. She said, 'Oh, yes.'" This shouldn't come as any surprise, and in fact, I'm not really sure why it's news. There's a bunch of kids out there named ESPN or Espen or some other permutation of that channel's name. Why are we even focusing on this anymore? Hell, his entire name sounds like a new cable channel: ESPN Real. If I was a teacher, and I saw THIS name show up on my class roll, there's no way I could call his name without straight-up laughing and humming the SportsCenter theme song. If it were me naming my kids after some channels, my picks would be a bit different. I'd have (first and middle names) History Alexander, Bravo Matthew, HGTV David, USA Allison, Fox Margaret, Cinemax Maxwell (Cinemaxwell, for short), and Comedy Central Rachel. And they could only talk to me during the time slot of my favorite show on their respective channel. Unless that show was on at the moment, in which case I'd hit the mute on their asses. Damn loud-ass kids. --------------- POST FALLS, Idaho - Now here is what happens when a really bad hair day gets out of control. Paul Peyton of Post Falls, Idaho stopped inches from the shop window of Fantastic Sam's hair salon after being denied a refund because he didn't like the haircut he received. Peyton told police he never meant to hurt anyone, he just wanted his money back. He claimed he was so flustered when he left and accidentally put the truck in the wrong gear, when he was backing up. However, the salon owner told the court a different story. She claimed Peyton was so upset with his haircut he followed her to her other shop and drove his pick up at its window. Peyton now faces up to five years in jail and a handsome fine after being found guilty of aggravated assault. He is awaiting sentence. That must've been some doozy of a bad haircut. What, did he look like Drop Dead Fred or something? I've gotten my fair share of bad haircuts, but I never tried to drive my car through the barbershop afterwards. When I was a kid, I went to see Thad, my regular barber. Thad was good, but Thad had three major issues:

1. Thad liked to watch the game while cutting your hair. Not in-between customers - I mean WHILE cutting your hair.
2. Thad had a stutter so bad, it would often move out of his mouth and all the way down his arms to his hands, making him resemble Parkinson Lewis Can't Lose.
3. Thad got too close to you when he cut your hair, and it wasn't unusual for you to end up with Thad's junk pressed up against your shoulder.