The Show Is Over the Sharktank Now, Sir

"CSI" is about to jump the shark as we speak...K-Fed's going to appear on the long-running but now-certain-to-be-cancelled CBS program....

Looks like the 28-year-old husband of singer Britney Spears will be shuffling over to the small screen, where he will appear in an episode of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation on CBS this fall, People magazine reported.

From DCFUD - Beerfest on 1/8th Scale

Last night, several of your erstwhile DCFUD writers met at Murphy's in Woodley Park for a pint or three and good ole' fashioned pub grub. (mini-review - the Murphyburger rocks, the seafood bisque is dandy, and the meat pie was fine; avoid the overly spicy and greasy shellfish soup. Avoid musicians baffled by feedback coming through the sound system).

We were approached by a marketing rep from Sam Adams who asked if we'd like to sample a few of their beers. I think we said "Yes!" faster than Jennifer Lopez accepts a marriage proposal.

The rep poured us samples of the classic Boston Lager and their Light to get us started. A wise move, as none of us were drinking a Sam Adams' product beforehand, the small samples would get us prepared to the brands' general taste. She then poured us Type A and Type B - two potential beers that they'd release next year. "A" was a Honey Porter, and "B" was a Smoke Ale.

"A" was delicious, with ZAF summing it up that "(we) could get along nicely." It's a nice, smooth beer, not terribly heavy, and the honey notes add a softer touch. Amazingly, it doesn't taste sweet, but a little less acidic than the standard Sam's.

"B" was an alcoholic travesty. Comments from the table ranged from "it tastes like smoked ham" to "it tastes like smoked gouda" to "it tastes like they added that Liquid Smoke stuff." As a rule, beer should not be described as tasting like a barbecue sauce. The best we could say is that it would make an excellent marinade for the Thanksgiving turkey.

Fortunately, Murphy's Irish-centric beers and ciders drowned out the horrors of Sample B.

Murphy's
2609 24th Street NW
Washington DC 20008
202-462-7171

"Hi, Pot? This is Kettle. You're Black!"

The Washington Post had an article this weekend regarding Michel Richard, one of the most renowned chefs in the world. It's a tale of his obsession with food and his upbringing in France, plus the limitations of illness and age. It's a good story, and the descriptions of the dishes he creates are enough to make any food lover hungrier than a carnivoire on Vegan Island.

Today, writer April Witt hosted an online chat about the article. For the most part, the questions were normal...until this one.

Rockville, Md: I think the article is disgusting. While plain folk are trying to figure out how to pay for basic utilities and gasoline, both of which are skyrocketing in costs, you are writing about some pie in the sky Rich Chef, who caters to even richer clientele. The idea of a $275 dinner is disgusting. Don't you think those people would be better off giving that money to Charity?

This is coming from Rockville, Maryland. Rockville is the economic core of one of the wealthiest counties in the country, Montgomery. Rockville is next to Potomac, where $10 million dollar homes might be outnumbered by $20 million dollar ones. Try finding a condo or a townhome in Rockville for less than 3/4 of a million dollars.

ANYBODY from Rockville complaining about price needs to get their head out of their ass.

If you're so altruistic, Rockville poster, then why do you live amongst the mansions? Why not live in much-more-affordable Germantown or Frederick, and donate YOUR savings on housing and taxes to the poor? Or, better yet, why not move into Southeast D.C. where it's even cheaper, and you can donate your money to your new neighbors? Why do you even bother to drive, when you could easily ride a bike to work and use that extra cash to donate to the poor?

I think we all already know the answer to those questions.

A meal at Citronelle is not a daily experience. Few can afford to buy a meal that costs as much as a nice iPod every day. It's a once-a-year kind of place for some, or once-a-lifetime for many. For the rare few who can eat there regularly, congratulations on having some cash.

To her credit, Ms. Witt doesn't stoop to that level. Her response:

April Witt: I can certainly understand your response. I don't spend $275 for dinners. The vast majority of Americans can't and don't. I've spent much more of my career writing about poverty, and the suffering of the poor, than I have chronicling the lifestyles of the rich and famous. That said, one of the things that I like best about being a journalist is the opportunity to take readers places they would never go except vicariously through the magic of reading. I don't judge the people or places I go. I just try to understand them so I can accurately show them to readers. I make no apologies for that.

If *I* had the chance, my response would be:

Ray Bradley - You live in Rockville, so, you can't be too bad off. You're obviously sending this question through a computer, so you either own one or work at a job where you use one. Those connote a certain level of wealth. Knowing that wealth or taste, as with all things, are comparable commodities, rather than looking at Citronelle's regular diners with a sense of haughty disdain, try looking at yourself through the eyes of someone less fortunate. To borrow your words, "While plain folk are trying to figure out how to pay for basic utilities and gasoline, both of which are skyrocketing in costs, you are living in one of the richest, safest counties in the region, with plenty of recreational choices, fine communities and wonderful schools. The idea of a $25 dinner at Chili's is disgusting when people are starving."

Simply stop looking at what you don't have and what you do. And savor your next meal, whether it be $270 at Citronelle, $25 at Chili's or $2.50 at 7-11, because no matter what you eat, it's still more than some people will have today. So, rather than gnash our teeth and complain ourselves into inaction over all the worlds' ills, I'm going to avoid guilt, and eat what, and where, I like, and give thanks that I am able to do so.

Snakes on a Plane - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

After a year of hype and the kind of internet buzz only nude photos of Anna Kournikova in 1999 could produce, Snakes on a Plane finally came out. The Five Paragraph Bitter Film critic was there, and, this film has made the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic wonder where his priorities really lie.

Why? Because I knew, going into it, that this movie would suck. The plot is thinner than Nicole Ritchie, has more holes than the US border with Mexico and makes as much sense as change from a penny. The cast, though, does as much as can be done with such a plot. I mean, when the plot is the title of the film, what can you expect?

To add insult to intellectual injury, I am seeing this movie before seeing such well-made and well-regarded films like The Illusionist, Little Miss Sunshine or Scoop. Or, for that matter, even My Super Ex-Girlfriend.

The cast, outside of Samuel L. Jackson, is made up of That Actors. Like Julianna Margulies, you know, That Actor who played Nurse Carol Hathaway on "E.R." back in the Clooney days. And Rachel Blanchard, That Actor who played Cher on the TV version of "Clueless." There's Todd Louiso, That Actor from "High Fidelity." Can't forget Lin Shaye, That Actor who played Magda in "There's Something About Mary." Of course, the movie also features the ultimate comedic force, That Actor who played Champ Kind, inventor of the Whammy!, David Koechner. For the record, there's more B's in that cast list than my high school report card.

Still, the movie is just silly fun. It's not to be taken seriously, and its implausibility makes it that much more fun. Most of the snakes are simply CGI, and not nearly as scary as the real hissing cobra Indiana Jones faced in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Some of the special effects are a little suspect, but, when Samuel L. drops the already-famous line about wanting these motha-f*ckin' snakes off this motha-f*ckin' plane, it's all somehow worth it, and makes those lil' art-house dramas look like the pretentious pieces of snake crap they really are.

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9 out of 16 Whammies! Why 9? Why 16? Well, I figure that I saw some pretty hot actresses, and a set of real breasts exposed in this movie, so that's good. And Sam Jackson's a hoot. And it's got Champ Kind. And it's fun. So, by the power vested by me using the New Math, that's worth 9 Whammies! It's also got the worst dialogue I've heard in a film, and considering I've seen Robot Jox, that's got to be worth 7 Non-Whammies!
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I made the McPaper (and I use the term lovingly)

My delightful roommate Jayme works for the USAToday as an editor in the Life section. Having a roommate with such a gig allows for some cool hookups - advance copies of TV shows, movie merch, juicy tidbits on various celebs, unpublished pictures of baby pandas. Sometimes I get to assist, not as a real editor or anything, but by giving feedback, proofreading and just by being another set of eyes and ears.

She approached me recently with a request for some Lost-related questions. One of their reporters was going to have a question-and-answer session with the cast, and the paper wanted to have some questions from fans. Sadly, they didn't receive that many good questions, and I'd suspect that many of the ones they received would mirror this sentiment - "Which cast member do you think is the hottest?"
There's only so many times you can ask, or be asked, that question.

So, I dutifully wrote up about 10 or so questions for a few members of the cast, Jorge Garcia (Hurley), Matthew Fox (Jack), Daniel Dae Kim (Jin), Josh Holloway (Sawyer) and Evangeline Lilly (Kate). I figured that by submitting a few, it would help give the writer some more material, and have something to say to each cast member, rather than focusing all on, say, Holloway or Lilly, leaving poor Terry O'Quinn (Locke) looking lonely and unwanted in the corner.

Here's my question, from USAToday:

Q: Your character came this close to hooking up with Cynthia Watros last season. Did you lose an on-set bet that she got killed off before the big romantic scene?— Ray Bradley

A: "That romance was fun. It meant a lot to me because a guy my size usually doesn't get a love interest in a prime time show. It was a special thing as far as breaking categories. I'm curious how this tragedy may effect him — and finding out that Michael was the cause. There may be some kind of change in him — perhaps more stoic. Or maybe vengeful."

I like how Jorge Garcia answered that question. It appears that he's thought that through, and appreciated being considered for a romantic story arc.

Still, I kinda wished the paper used my favorite questions...

Daniel Dae Kim:
1) How many people figure that you can't speak English, and then are stunned that you're from Pennsylvania? How hard was it to relearn so much of the Korean language?

2) My roommate has a wicked crush on you. Not a question, but, more a comment really.

Evangeline Lilly:

2) You're still pretty new to the acting world, yet you seem to be handling fame a lot better than others - so far, you've kept out of the scandalous tabloids and avoided some of the scuffles with the law other stars have. Is this from a good upbringing or are you just better at not getting caught?

3) I have a wicked crush on you. Not a question, but more of a comment, really.

From DCFUD - Bobby Van's

Back when the Restaurant Week lineup was announced in July, I scanned the list and saw that Bobby Van's was one of the participants. I quickly made reservations, given their sterling reputation in New York. I used to work with a young lady from Massachusetts who summered in the Hamptons, and she raved about Bobby Van's Bridgehampton location. Now, I'm just a relatively middle class guy from Maryland. I'm guessing that "summered" is rich person code for "sunbathed in an expensive resort and did nothing but revel in luxury." I've never "summered" in my life. I've "weeked" - well, if you consider Ocean City's or Dewey's crowded beaches, all-you-can-eat buffets and sexually-suggestive t-shirt stands luxurious.

In my previous Restaurant Week entry, an anonymous commenter told me I made a mistake in selecting Bobby Van's for dining, saying that they catered only to the VIP crowd. I took the comments seriously - perhaps this anonymous person is a former employee, wrongfully terminated, or a diner who received shoddy service when they dared pay for their meal with a Discover card instead of an AmEx Titanium Card. Or, conversely, since the commenter chose to remain anonymous, perhaps it was a former employee rightfully terminated with an axe to grind, or somebody associated with a competing restaurant, hoping for a good plug. In the end, I chose to keep my reservation, and had four friends join me.

Let me assure you of this - a full 15 hours after dining there last night, I can still taste the perfectly-prepared medium rare Petite Fillet Mignon, accompanied by slightly-smoky mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. The Caesar salad, and the rich chocolate cake and incredible New York cheesecake rounded out the courses, and each bite was fantastic. I had feared that a "Petite" filet would be small 5 or 6-ounce serving, but our steaks were closer to 12 ounces. Even the well-done filets came out thoroughly cooked, and not butterfly-chopped like in other establishments. Our server was professional, friendly, and made a distinct point to make us aware of the Restaurant Week courses on a separate sheet from the regular menu. One of their chefs, Eric, made a friendly tour of the dining room, making sure everybody was enjoying themselves. The table adjacent to ours had a bit more menu diversity than my steak-obsessed crowd. Somebody there had the Crabcakes (the recipe is on their website) and another had the Andouille Sausage and Pulled Chicken Rigatoni, both of whom raved about the quality.

For a high-end steakhouse, the atmosphere was professional, yet relaxed. It's classy, but not stuffy - there's no dresscode, and patrons wore suits or jeans in nearly equal numbers. Valet service is a manageable $6. The anonymous commenter's fears couldn't have been more dispelled - if not for a four-course tasting menu at Palena in May, last night was the best meal I've had in D.C. all year. Everything was so tastefully done that I have already planned a September dinner there, where their acclaimed "Porterhouse For Two" sounds less like a luxury and more like a rite of passage. I am so impressed by Bobby Van's strong Restaurant Week showing that I practically walked out singing The Happenings' classic tune "See You In September."

Bobby Van's
809 15th Street, NW
Phone: (202) 589-0060

Talladega Nights - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

There are two types of people in this world - those who like Jack Black a lot, and those who hate Jack Black a lot. Same thing goes for Will Ferrell - many love him, and others can't stand him. If there was a Venn diagram of the two stars' fans, I'm sure there would be many overlapping fans on both sides of the love/hate coin. I was firmly in the hater's camp of Will Ferrell back in the mid-90s. I thought his work on Saturday Night Live was pretty...well, not funny. Sure, the Cheerleader bit was OK once in a while, but they went to that well *WAY* too often. My opinion began to change when Jim Carrey hosted the show - you know, the episode where even the last skit didn't suck - Carrey was a meth-addicted weight loss specialist, and Ferrell was using Carrey's program to lose weight. Not only did he lose weight, but he felt possessed by the Devil, and proceeded to throw a shout-out to the classic movie Scanners.

I will humbly submit that there are two Will Ferrells. The lousy SNL Will Ferrell who came up big once or twice a season, and the movie Will Ferrell. ((side note - Talk all you want about more cowbell, but that scene was CLEARLY Christopher Walken's)). The Movie Will Ferrell has a knack of playing lovable goofballs who aren't quite as bright as the world around them, and will do pretty much anything for a laugh. His characters have a certain warmth, and even a realism - as though a six-foot tall elf really *could* walk through New York.

This movie is definitely the Movie Will Ferrell in grand form. His character, Ricky Bobby, comes from a broken home to NASCAR superstardom. His best friend on-and-off track is Cal Naughton, played brilliantly by John C. Reilly, and together, they form NASCAR's most feared 1 - 2 punch. His "smokin' hot wife" Carley (Leslie Bibb, reappearing from obscurity) and sons Walker (Houston Tumlin) and Texas Ranger (Grayson Russell) nearly complete Ricky's comfortable, sponsor-aided life. Until Sacha Baron Cohen shows up as conniving French driver Jean Gerard, bringing jazz, homosexuality and Andy Richter into Ricky Bobby's country-fried world.

As with Anchorman, the laughs are spread out through the cast - it's not just the Will Ferrell show. Reilly shines in the buddy role he perfected in Boogie Nights. Green Mile star Michael Clarke Duncan plays Ricky's crew chief Luscious, leading Anchorman vet David Koechner (inventor of the Whammy!) and Upright Citizens Brigade alum Ian Roberts. Ricky Bobby's children both have shocking, hilarious lines that just about broke the audience up in coughing fits - until grandma Lucy (Best in Show's Jane Lynch) knocks some manners into them - and they're still funny after that. And Leslie Bibb is smokin' hot. Still, as Steve Carell's Brick Tamland ended up being the funniest character in Anchorman, Gary Cole's turn as Reese Bobby, Ricky's deadbeat dad, and Sacha Cohen's Jean Girard do the same here. Bill Lumburgh absolutely kills as Ricky's hard-livin', hard drinkin' speed freak pappy, and the former Ali G gives Girard a bit of dignity - well, at least as much dignity as can be summoned when playing a gay French NASCAR driver married to Andy Richter.

There is a rather large logistical jump in the movie where Carl betrays Ricky out of nowhere, and it left the audience scratching it's collective head. At that point, the movie loses some momentum, and it takes a while to get back up to speed. It's not quite as bad as Wedding Crashers' second-half collapse, but, it's tangible. I wonder if the Director's Cut DVD release (oh, come on, you know it's coming) addresses this flaw. Still, the movie is an honest-to-God hoot, a knee-slapper, and several other Southern terms meaning funnier-than-hell. I dare say, this might even be a hootenanny.

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17 out of a possible 20 Whammies! 11 Whammies! were awarded to the above-mentioned cast - one Whammy! each. Another Whammy! is given to Dale Earnhardt Jr., who is pretty natural in front of a camera. A special Whammy! is given to Amy Adams, who could challenge Isla Fisher from Wedding Crashers for "hot redhead supremacy." Four more Whammies! were given to the hilarious out takes at the end of the film. Non-Whammies! were given to Molly Shannon, who is spectacularly unfunny in a completely unneeded subplot, and the criminal underutilization of David Koetchner and Ian Roberts.
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That crying you just heard...

...was Mel Gibson learning that his Hollywood career is, effectively, over.

As no doubt everybody in the solar system knows by now, courtesy of the breathless reporting by every entertainment rag, TV show and wanna-be insider, Mel Gibson made a royal ass of himself last weekend at a traffic stop. Drunk driving and belligerent, sexist, and made anti-Semitic remarks. Pretty much hit the Obnoxious Quartet there, Mel. One more comment, like, say, how you hate black people, and you would have gotten the 5 Team Parlay.

Mel has since sobered up, asked for forgiveness, and pledged to change. I'm willing to give the cat a break - after all, he is admitting to being an alcoholic, and Lord knows booze can mess anybody up.

However, Hollywood is undecided over a Gibson Resurrection, no matter how well The Passion of the Christ did. While some folks have gone apoplectic over his remarks, others are hoping he gets the help he needs. Legendary actress Jodie Foster came to Mel's defense this weekend, having gotten to know him while filming "Maverick." She attributes his weakness not to a hatred of Jews, but on alcohol.

The death knell, though, comes courtesy of Rob Schneider, star of the Deuce Bigalow franchise.

"I, Rob Schneider, a 1/2 Jew, pledge from this day forward to never work with Mel Gibson, actor-director-producer and anti-Semite."


— A full-page ad in Variety, Aug. 3.

Strong words from The Hot Chick.

I'm guessing that Mel will be gnashing his teeth knowing he won't ever be considered for a part in "The Animal 2."

The incredible irony of this whole thing is that two weeks ago, just about every woman on the planet would have LOVED for Mel Gibson to call her "sugar tits."

Who's the Hottie?

When Michael Jackson wrote "Smooth Criminal," he didn't have this chick in mind.

from WBAL in Baltimore.

WESTLAKE, Ohio -- Maybe she should have paid better attention to her server.

Last week, a waitress at the Moosehead Saloon in Westlake, Ohio, asked a woman to show proof of age after the customer ordered a drink. When the waitress looked at the ID, she realized the customer's ID was actually her own license, police said.

The waitress, a 22-year-old Lakewood, Ohio, woman, had reported her wallet stolen from a bar on July 9. Her driver's license and credit card were in the wallet. The credit card had already been used for $1,000 in illicit purchases, police said.

As the waitress called police, the woman apparently got suspicious and took off, according to police. She was identified by a friend as Maria Bergan, 23.

Bergan was arrested at her home Saturday night and remains in the Westlake City Jail. She has been charged with identity theft and receiving stolen property.

Police Captain Guy Turner said the odds of something like that happening defy calculation.

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It's all Bacardi's fault...

Woman Claims Bacardi Rum is Dangerous

MIAMI (AP) - July 26, 2006 - A woman who says she was severely burned at a Miami night club four years ago is suing Bacardi, claiming the company's rum is dangerous and defective.

The lawsuit says a bartender was pouring shots when a customer lit a menu on fire and placed it in the stream of alcohol. A bottle of Bacardi 151 that was being used to pour the shots turned into a flame thrower.
The woman says she suffered second and third degree burns and was permanently disabled and disfigured.

Miami-based Bacardi USA hasn't commented yet on the suit.

*********************************************************

*sigh*

Damn Bacardi for making yummy alcoholic things and damn chemistry for making alcohol flammable.

I'm amazed she didn't also sue Mr. Wizard, Bill Nye the Science Guy and Smokey the Bear.

Let me see - she's at a bar that is full of alcohol which is, by nature, flammable. That a bartender happened to be pouring alcohol is not important - that's his job. However, what was a customer doing setting a menu on fire?

And a bar that uses paper menus is pretty much asking for it.

My question is this - why didn't she sue the dude with the fire fetish?

Light Weight and Losing Weight - Whatever Your Reason - Ride

After such a heavy post earlier, this seems much more my speed - 18 of them.

Jim Caple at ESPN.com offers a great essay on why Floyd Landis' Tour De France win should inspire us to ride our bikes more often.

Then let Landis be an inspiration. He grew up under strict Mennonite parents who were adamantly opposed to competitive cycling on religious grounds. His father tried wearing him out with a draining list of daily chores, but Landis simply trained late at night, and he rode his bike in the worst a Pennsylvania winter could throw at him. As if that weren't difficult enough, he also wore sweatpants instead of Lycra biking shorts when he competed in races, a practice that meant carrying an extra 10 pounds of water by the end of a sweaty event.

Thanks to the most stirring bike ride that didn't include someone wearing a Cutters T-shirt, he also just won the Tour de France despite an arthritic hip that needs replacing.

And we can't ride to the grocery store? The Tour de France is over for another year; now, let's make a Tour de America a 365-day-a-year event. Get out of the car and get on the bike.

Ride because you're patriotic and you know it makes far more of a difference than just slapping a flag decal on your bumper. Ride because it will hurt Exxon's profits. Ride to improve your health. Ride because it's fun. Ride because it will piss off the French if we develop yet another Tour champion (America has won 11 titles since France last won one). Whatever your reason, ride.

Awesome...just awesome.

9/11 is no joke in this town.

In between the World Cup and the Headbutt Heard `Round the World and the current attacks in Lebanon and Israel, and the pleasant distraction of Floyd Landis winning the Tour De France, you may have missed the controversy going on at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. The University hired a part-time instructor, Kevin Barrett to teach a course on Islam...who believes that the Government is behind the 9/11 attacks.

Now, a professor's personal beliefs should not be a criteria for employment, just like political, religious or spiritual beliefs be the basis for anybody's employment, within reason. I'm not sure if I'd hire a pacifist as a sniper, no matter how good of a shot that pacifist is, but that's just an obvious example. Nor would a Catholic make a good Rabbi.

What sets apart the UW employee apart is that he intends to teach the 9/11 attack as part of his class - not the known facts, but that the Government essentially sponsored the attacks. The World Trade Center was brought down by controlled demolition, no plane actually hit the Pentagon - basically, everything we saw on that horrible Tuesday, the images that are etched into our collective subconscious - are all lies to further fuel the winds of war.

It's a rather stretched conspiracy theory as such things go. There's no Zapruder film that clearly shows a second bullet, or a ridiculous Warren Commission report on the "Magic Bullet Theory." There's no missing aircraft carriers in Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, nor is there a headline in New Mexico that a UFO crashed into the desert, only to be denied vehemently the next day. In this case, we have several million eyewitnesses who watched planes, either in person or on CNN, collide into the World Trade Center. There are fewer eyewitnesses regarding the Pentagon collision, probably because the proximity of Ronald Reagan/National Airport causes a certain tune-out factor when a low-flying plane is in the area. Flight 93 in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, has a couple of varying eyewitness reports, lending some credibility to those who refuse the accepted notion that the plane was retaken by the passengers.

What the conspiracy folks do have is some shaky ideas of physics, poorly designed websites, and footage of the Towers that show small explosions out the sides of the building as it came down. Just search YouTube.com for World Trade Center collapse, and you'll see what they consider "compelling evidence" that it was a controlled demolition.

Funny - what I saw was a skyscraper that just had a big-ass aircraft plow into it at a few hundred miles per hour, full of jet fuel, making a really big fire. I'm going to guess that not too many people have ever seen a big-ass aircraft plow into a skyscraper like that before, and have studied the intricate physics involved when structural engineering meets ungodly heat and weakened structural integrity.

Popular Mechanics devoted an article on debunking the 9/11 conspiracy theories, showing where each of the popular ideas from various websites was factually wrong, if not completely fabricated. But, for those who either hate the United States, the Administration, the Press, the Bush family, or simply want to believe in a conspiracy, no amount of proof will dissuade them of that.

What bothers most people is that Barrett is allowed to teach this class, supposed to be on the fundamentals of Islam, and to lecture his belief as fact. His employment by the University has been a popular debate on the comment boards of UW Law Professor Ann Althouse's blog. I have no problem with him teaching the class per se - he converted to Islam, has a doctorate, and was the teaching assistant for the class in the past - he's qualified to teach.

What bothers me is that his belief is based, according to this article, on a preset anti-Establishment mindset, a preset slant towards conspiracy theories, and partially on a REALLY bad piece of faulty logic by his mentor, David Ray Griffin. From the article:

During the speech, Griffin made the case that it was implausible the Pentagon could be hit by an airplane, since it is "surely the best defended building on the planet." The U.S. military has the best radar systems in the world and "does not miss anything occurring in North American airspace," he added.

This is what happens when people ASSume. Surely the building is well-defended - but by traditional attacks. What's traditional about using an airliner as a missile?

Moreover, have any of these people ever really BEEN to the Pentagon, or even driven NEAR it? I drive past it all the time, with millions of dollars spent to rework the surrounding highways and parking lots to make it more secure. I drove past it all the time, pre-9/11, as my family was spread between Maryland and Northern Virginia. The building is surrounded by the major commuting thoroughfares of Interstate 395, US Route 1, Virginia Route 27, Columbia Pike, and various other support roads. Just a few thousand feet to the south is Pentagon City and Crystal City, all part of the city of Arlington. Just across the Potomac is Washington, and just a mile north is Rosslyn. There are millions of people who live and work within a couple miles of the Pentagon. There's a huge bus stop and a subway stop at the Pentagon's sprawling complex.

Now, where are all the ASSumed anti-aircraft batteries? On top of Macy's at the Mall? Room 1000 at the Sheraton? The rotating restaurant at the Doubletree? "Excuse me, Chili's - no more fajitas for you, we need to put in a Patriot missile system." To my knowledge, Hertz Rent-a-Car doesn't rent Apache helicopters with Sidewinders...and if they do, I know what *I'm* renting the next time I go to Los Angeles!

I would invite Mr. Barrett and Mr. Griffin to look at a map of the DC Metropolitan Area, and look at the 3 Major International Airports all within 10 minutes of flying time to the Pentagon, including one that is less than 30 seconds flying time from the building (Ronald Reagan/National Airport). Then, I'd like him to explain the logic of shooting down a commercial airliner with missiles over one of the most densely populated regions of the country. Northern Virginia is not exactly rural Wisconsin - it's more like Southern California.

Now, explain to the residents of Arlington and Fairfax Counties why their homes, lives and property were destroyed because the military shot down a commercial airliner full of innocent civilians, causing the wreckage to rain down on their pleasant suburban communities. If crashing jetliners can cause massive damage to the biggest office buildings in the US, then imagine what it could do to an unsuspecting cul-de-sac, with burning hot wreckage and boiling jet fuel.

I am so disgusted with these low-rent Fox Mulders convinced the Government is involved with every evil in the world, or that is has every possible solution. It's awfully easy to Monday morning quarterback five years after the fact, that there should have been anti-aircraft measures in place. These people who believe "The X-Files" was a documentary have forgotten that the US was not at war on September 10th. No Homeland Security, no troops in Iraq or Afghanistan, no removing shoes to enter a plane. There was no reason to line DC with anti-aircraft batteries...and considering the nearest installations with anything like that are at least 30 minutes from the Pentagon, perhaps that explains why the building was hit. It's mostly an office building, not a top-secret base tucked away in the Nevada mountains, that same base where no doubt Barrett and his ilk believe where the Roswell UFO is stored and the moon landing was faked.

I'll try to find something a little less meaty to blog about later.

Chai Booze - Are You Kidding Me?

As part of my weeklong desire to drink away the heat, I stopped by my friendly Virginia ABC store. I've never been in a government-run liquor store before, and was interested to compare this place to private-run stores in my hometown in Maryland. The VABC store had all the staples of liver-crushing goodness - fine aged tequilas, dark spicy rums, flavored vodkas - and the low-end ten gallon plastic drum-sized gins and whiskeys. It was a good mix of high-end taste and low-end value. A couple of their prices seemed a bit high - Sauza and Jose Cuervo tequilas seemed about 10 to 25% more expensive than Maryland and DC - but they had some good specials and discounts to bring it back to par.

What really caught my eye was Voyant Chai Creme Liqueur, a relatively new entry in the market. The website describes it as:

Aged Virgin Island Rum, Fresh Dutch Cream, Black Tea from India, Premium Spirits from Holland and a Distinctive Blend of Spices from Asia give Voyant Chai Cream Liqueur the Rich, Creamy Smoothness that you should expect from a Premium Liqueur.

Other than an Annoying Habit of Randomly Capitalizing Letters incorrectly in a Sentence for No Reason, the stuff sounds prettty good. In three hours, give or take, I will be partaking of this new beverage. The Voyant website offers some recipes, a few of which sound pretty interesting, but definitely a little heavy on thicker liqueuers and milk. The stuff sounds perfect for a cold winter day; in fact, I can already picture using this in a rum & coffee mixture to keep warm at football games and ski lodges. Has anybody tried this stuff, and have some tips to share?

I'll do some experimenting tonight...all in the name of research and service to you, dear readers. Behold the effort...nay...the sacrifices I make for you.

you can get cavities there too?

I hope they change the brushes.

How the hell do you gargle down there?

Stay Cool and Get Plowed - Posted on DCFUD

The next couple of days are going to bring to mind several burning questions, not the least of which is "why in the hell did the Founding Fathers build the Nation's Capital on a swamp?," and, for the purposes of this post, is "how can I beat the heat and drink myself into denying either my existence or the 98% humidity?" As a former bartender, I occasionally get asked this and similar questions, kind of like Barry and Ira, the two ice cream guys in City Slickers, except less about dessert and more about alcohol. However, while the booze is important, the mixer may be more so.

1) When it's scorching, nothing does the trick quite like a good sour mix or fresh-squeezed limes. Most sour mixes are made up of limes, some lemon and an ungodly amount of sugar. However, that dose of vitamin C can really recharge your batteries on a crazy hot day. The margaritas at Lauriol Plaza, Oyamel and the Banana Cafe' are all winners, though Oyamel is closed on Mondays. Now I know how The Boomtown Rats felt, if not Brenda Ann Spencer.

2) Fizzy drinks cut through dry mouth like emo kids listening to Death Cab for Cutie. Drinks made with tonic or soda waters, or ginger ale can keep you sane. Tonic water contains quinine, a potion that helps treat malaria and leg cramps - who knew gin and tonic could classify as medicine? Excuse me while I go self-medicate...

Some bartenders freely swap ginger ale and Sprite, and that's one of my pet peeves, along with people who wear sports gear unrelated to the teams or the sport they're watching. You know what I'm talking about - the dude who wears a Portland Trailblazers NBA jersey at a Washington Nationals/New York Mets basketball game. Gawd I hate that. Along that line, ginger ale is slightly spicy, and should be used to contrast overly sweet alcohols or mixers. Sprite can smooth over strong, sharp drinks with its citrus base. A well-stocked bar will contain both beverages, and the wise mixologist knows the difference. A Jack-and Ginger would taste like refried hell with Sprite, though a splash of Sprite in a margarita made with a sharp tequila like Sauza Hornitos can make it more tolerable for those who like lighter drinks.

3) Ice cream is good; fruit is better. Some people swear by ice cream drinks when the heat's on, and a good frozen mudslide can be a fine idea, but who wants to walk the streets with too much dairy in their gullets? I learned the lesson of Ron Burgundy well when he said on that fateful sweaty San Diego day"Milk was a bad choice."


I prefer more of the lighter, fruit-based frozen drinks on days like today. A Banana Nutbread is an awesome drink but is heavier than Beltway traffic. I'd suggest an old standby - the pina colada - and a tolerance of the Rupert Holmes' song.

For the record - I had no idea that guy had a greatest hits collection, and if I had to guess, it would have come out on cassette single. I figured he did that one song and realized he'd have to play it EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HIS LIFE and just ended it all Budd Dwyer style. Nah, he's a famous writer, playwright and seems to have weird taste in eyewear.

Also, there's nothing wrong with adding crushed ice to an old favorite. A frozen Cuba Libre - a.k.a. rum and coke - is awesome, as is a frozen Cape Cod and Long Island Ice Tea. A frozen Mai Tai is like drinking an adult Slurpee but without that weird spoon-straw thing.

4) Malternative - the term used by the industry to identify drinks like Cider Jack or Bacardi Silver, these beverages, besides having more sugar in them than the Nintendo 64 kid, can really cool you down on a hot day. A Mike's Hard Lemonade usually doesn't suck, and to make them a little more palatable and colorful, pour a shot of a colored liquor like Chambord, Midori or Key Largo Schnapps. Watch the whole beverage change color and provide a bit more kick!

5) Combine them all and make the ultimate summer drink - The Frozen Tom Collins. Sour mix, a good gin like Beefeaters or Gordons, a splash of tonic and fresh lime juice - prevent malaria AND scurvy, get refreshed. I make mine served over crushed ice, and then float a layer of Grenadine, blue curacao or Midori for fun. Using a little umbrella is up to you.

What do you guys like to drink on a hot day? I'll be glad to do some research.

FIXYOURTHINKING.COM: Congress To Get Personal About The Personals

FIXYOURTHINKING.COM: Congress To Get Personal About The Personals

I have a new hero.

Not the guy I linked to above, though I've been stuck on his blog for the past couple hours, sifting through scores of Apple-related posts. But my new hero is my young coworker Mr. Garcia. Fresh from Austin, Texas, working for a defense contractor here in NoVA, he seemed somewhat out of his element when he joined my agency last month. Nice enough fellow, I figured I'd introduce him to some of my friends if he was feeling lonely. I've got a good group of Austin Ex-Pats around here, and we could all pound a couple of Shiner Bocks and talk about S. Congress Street like a new-wave Virginia-based Merry Pranksters, albeit with better grooming and high-speed internet access.

Mr. Garcia had commented to me about an intern at a nearby agency who seemed to have a certain look about her - that look being hot and blonde. I hadn't noticed, and once Mr. Garcia pointed her out, I was a big fan. However, there was something I couldn't figure out - who wears skin-tight jeans at a government agency in the summer?

Answer - a European intern, that's who! I ran into her the other day at the elevators, and she was talking to one of her friends in that Eastern European accent that makes me wish I had been born a decade ealier, gone to the CIA, and become a spy. She's pretty decent in all physical aspects - a solid 7 or 8, I'd say, and, in the DoDefense, that makes her The Hottest Woman Ever.

Well, I saw Mr. Garcia today, and to tell him of the encounter, and he told me "Yeah, she's Romanian." I said "You've done your homework." He said "Yeah, we went out on a date already. Going out again."

That, my friends, is a man who is going places.

Anyway, back to the post. I was Slashdotted to this guy's post about the worst date ever. I didn't pay any attention to it - honestly, the internet is full of gawd-awful dating stories - why should I care about somebody else's?

Well, his story is truly awful. About the worst I've heard, and makes my previous horrible experiences all move down a notch in comparison. Suddenly, Woman Who Heard Voices, Girl Who Danced at The Exorcist house in Georgetown, and, the coup-de-grace, The Woman With Sandpaper Hands have all paled under the shining light of Internet Dating Hell this poor Apple tech has faced.

Kings Dominion - Reviewed by the Five Paragraph Bitter Theme Park Critic

In the hazy days of the 1970s, nothing excited young kids in my neighborhood like a trip to Kings Dominion. It was almost three hours away from Annapolis, Maryland, nestled in a small town near Richmond, Virginia called Doswell, and the drive there surely meant waking up before sunrise to get there at a decent hour. It was great - we'd ride past the big city of Washington DC, fall asleep through the country of Virginia and wake up staring at the 1/3rd-sized Eiffel Tower replica that dominated the Dominion. These were the days when the Rebel Yell and King Cobra were the wildest coasters on the coast, and even the cable car ride provided a thrill. The Scooby Doo Roller Coaster was a right of passage of any elementary school kid, as the 35-foot drop separated the diaper-wearers from the potty-trained. Poor Hershey Park in Pennsylvania was for the fat kids, and Six Flags America wasn't even Wild World yet.

It's a different ball of wax nowadays. The Rebel Yell is still around, the cable cars were removed (apparently, the park realized that keeping people suspended above the games kept those people from spending money on the games), and the King Cobra is in duty at the Boardwalk in Ocean City, Maryland. The King Cobra has been replaced by the Anaconda - bigger, taller, faster, with more loops. The Rebel Yell has been eclipsed by the Grizzly and the Hurler - both bigger, taller, faster with more turns.

Somewhere along the line, some maniac decided to make the Hypersonic XLC, which shoots people straight up and straight down at nearly 100 miles per hour. That wasn't enough, so they built the Drop Zone, which pulls people up nearly 40 stories before dropping them in a free-fall, and then stopped by electromagnets in the last precious few feet to a gentle rest. Somewhere between XLC and Drop Zone, I realized that, if pressured enough to do so, I can shit a brick.

This year, the Flight of Fear indoor coaster has been moved to Canada, the Volcano Blast Coaster has been having maintenance issues, and the Shockwave, so daring back in 1991, seems too tame by today's G-Force-addicted standards. The new Italian Job Turbo Coaster provides a heck of a thrill ride, and in a cute widdle Mini Cooper car. The Scooby Doo Roller Coaster is still there, though surrounded by the Fairly Oddparents instead of Daphne and Shaggy.

The park, like most theme parks, does not attract as many doctors and lawyers and investment bankers as they'd like. There's more than a fair share of gangstas, rednecks, greasy hyper children and people who came straight from the set of the Maury show. You're more likely to find a preppy kid in Tikrit than a full-set of teeth in a Kings Dominion visitor. However, at the end of the day, watching the sun set over the 1/3-sized Eiffel Tower, the stomach a little turned, the wallet a little lighter, and lugging around an oversized German Shepard, the park still has the ability to make any day 1978 again.

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7 out of 12 Whammies! - 4 Coasters were outta commission, deducting a Whammy! each. Another Whammy! was deducted by the 10 year old southern kid who assured me, during our hour long wait for the Water Slide ride, that helicopters have M-16s (a rifle used by ground forces) on their sides, and no "dough-hers" - his two syllable way of saying "door" - and he was so certain, he told everybody in line. He's exactly why siblings shouldn't mate. The 7 Whammies! were awarded on the basis that I still feel like I'm seven years old there, no matter how old I really am.
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from DCFUD - What to Eat Before Getting Motion Sickness

This summer, I decided to give myself the happy childhood I so rightly deserved. Trips to the non-Air and Space Smithsonians that my school field trips forgot, and civilly disobeying the "No Swimming" signs in the Potomac have been my hallmarks of Summer-06, replete with the crowned jewel of my immaturity empire, a season pass to Kings Dominion near Richmond. It *should* only take about 90 minutes to get from the Beltway to the faux Effiel Tower at the park, but the real art in any roadtrip is the travel, not always the destination. There's some good old fashioned eating between the speed traps and sprawl-induced traffic jams. Here's my comfort food-based guide to surviving a drive to the park.

1) I've always maintained that the true South doesn't start at the Mason-Dixon Line between Pennsylvania and Maryland, but at the point where you can rely on a Waffle House at every interstate exit; therefore, the South technically begins around Potomac Mills. Open 24 hours, Waffle House is known for breakfast foods - huge waffles, greasy hash browns with your choice of toppings, and coffee stronger than a wino's stench. They also serve dinner foods and sandwiches, like burgers and chicken. Stay away from the shoe-leather steaks, and you'll eat well for under ten bucks.

2) With a name like Cracker Barrel, you know you're not in the District anymore. Another Interstate exit staple, Cracker Barrel serves up massive meals of Southern-fried comfort. Their breakfasts are legendary - fantastic pancakes, smoked breakfast meats and hashbrown cassaroles. Their dinners are no joke, either, with country-fried steaks, chicken dumplings and a heaping serving of gravy on everything.

3) Feeling a little less chainy? If you're in Woodbridge, just off Route 1 is Dixie Bones a barbeque joint that invited me to attend after my lackluster visit to Capital Q in Chinatown. So far, I've only had a couple of sandwiches, which isn't enough for a full review, but their sweet, slightly-smoky sauce is fantastic. I can't wait for another trip to Woodbridge...that is a sentence I never thought I'd write in my life.

4) So, you say you've had Waffle House, and have mastered the Cracker Barrel menu. Like Stewie from Family Guy, you're addicted to "click-click-bloody-click pancakes!" There's one place for you, my friend - Aunt Sarah's Pancake House. As any self-respecting UVA Cavalier can tell you, Aunt Sarah's makes some good `cakes. Light, fluffy - always good. They don't stay open as late as the other I-95 joints, and, sadly, the Charlottesville location seems to be a lot cleaner than the ones in Fredericksburg or Richmond. Here's hoping somebody steps in with a mop, some Scrubbing Bubbles and a bad attitude, and saves those pancakes.

5) When a place advertises an all-you-can-eat buffet and sub-$10 prime rib, you're either in Vegas or the Iron Skillet near Bowling Green, Virginia. I hadn't been there in nearly 15 years, when I would refuel there, driving from Maryland on 301 down to my uncle's farm in Buckingham County, Virginia. A recent trip has shown that they've cleaned the place up, and the portions are generous, if not thrilling, and the "stinky trucker" odor has subsided.

6) Once you get to Kings Dominion, you're stuck eating their food. You can try to sneak chow in from the nearby Burger King or 7-11, but those security guards at the park examine packpacks like they're looking for Waldo. Kings Dominion offers everything that a standard theme park has - funnel cakes, overpriced pizzas, listless hamburgers. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Frozen Lemonade stand or Dippin' Dots - Ice Cream of the Future! kiosk (by the way, hasn't Dippin' Dots been the ice cream of the future for like, 20 years now? When the hell does the future get here?) but those are two tasty places for a quick sugar high. Your best bets at Kings' Dominion are the Subway shops - they offer decent sandwiches at $5.99, which is about the best deal in the place. Also, the Bubba Gump Shrimp joint near the new Italian Job roller coaster makes surprisingly good Cajunesque chow. Plus, they serve beer and margaritas, which come in handy if you want to survive a place with too many kids, rigged games, long lines, broken rides, people with questionable hygiene and clothing styles, and where the word "door" somehow picks up extra syllables.

If you needed proof America's drug problem is out of control...

Crack Is Found in Shuttle's Foam Insulation
Chang W. Lee/The New York Times


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My Goodness, first baseball players, now astronauts??!? Is anything sacred anymore?

And wouldn't a trip into space be more of a high than any drug could make?

Stacker - Reviewed By The Five Paragraph Bitter Game Critic

What started off as an innocent 5PBFC review of Cici's Pizza in Falls Church became a struggle between man and machine. Namely, yours truly versus the Stacker machine. For those of you who have never seen the device, then you need to head to your local amusement park or family entertainment center, like a batting cage, mini-golf or Chuck-E-Cheese. The concept is simple enough - a row of three lights go back in forth in a row, like K.I.T.T.'s red lights on Knight Rider, and when you hit a button, the lights stop moving in that row. Then, three lights in the row above that starts going back and forth in the same manner, but a little faster. You have to stop the lights when they're directly over the ones below it. That continues for a couple more rows, until it goes to two lights, and then ultimately, one light. By that point, the light is moving a lot faster, and trying to make a stack of lights with one block is harder than it looks.

Unless you're me. Now, since I was a youngin', I've been preternaturally good at video games. I don't need cheat codes, have wicked good hand/eye coordination, and can lock-in like a highly-trained athlete. I tried this machine yesterday in Cici's small game room. Why would a grown adult attempt to win at such an easy game? Easy - the prizes rock! These aren't fake Lance Armstrong cause bracelets or ten-month old chewing gum, but real prizes, like iPod Nanos and Sony PSPs! Hells yeah I'm gonna play!

I put in two dollars worth of tokens for two attempts to win. My second dollar got me to the final row, and I *just* missed winning a major prize. I figured that a couple of more dollars would easily get me one of these major prizes. I fished through my wallet, found a twenty, and figured I'd win an iPod for everybody in the joint.

Twenty dollars later, and I didn't win shit. I got to the final line 7 times, and on 4 of those attempts, I *KNOW* I timed it perfectly. 1 time I admit that I botched it, and the other 2 were darned close. But 4 of those, and DEFINITELY 3 of them, I got it right. What I noticed was that the top row would often skip the winning column, sort of skipping over it by not blinking. This thing was rigged like a carny game! I left Cici's a little broke and a lot bitter.

So, today I decided to Google the Stacker game. I found this great entry on Wikipedia: "On the last few levels the system appears to "cheat" by not stopping the moving block when the player pushes the button. This is to maintain the odds the operator specified and to ensure the operator maximum profits." That's exactly what I saw, as it sucked down 20 bucks quicker than a slot machine in Vegas. I then checked out the website of the manufacturer of Stacker, LAI Games. They include a handy comic strip about the Stacker, basically pointing out to would-be buyers that they can rig it however they want. The best thing about the comic strip? The dumbasses used "loose" instead of "lose." You may have my twenty bucks, LAI Games, but I know basic English, you speds.

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5 Whammies! out of 10. Cici's Pizza is actually pretty good, considering it's all-you-can-eat for five bucks. Mac & Cheese, Ham, Sausage, Apple Pie pizzas - they have some good stuff and CHEAP! Still, I can't believe I lost a Jackson on a rigged game. I pray LAI Games burns like a painful case of anal warts, and I own the last tube of Preperation H in the country.
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