Great Name, Bad Store

from the fine folks at ZDNet:

CompUSA is going to close more than half its stores.

CompUSA, the computer and gadget retailer owned by Mexican billionaire Carlos Slim, said on Tuesday it would close more than half of its U.S. retail locations over the next two to three months to focus on top performing locations.

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This dude is named Carlos Slim. He's now the 3rd wealthiest man on the planet.

How come I am just now learning of his name?

He sounds like he should be on the World Series of Poker. "And, in the final match, Chris Moneymaker versus Carlos Slim."

Or he's a hitman in a Quentin Tarantino flick.

Either way, rock on with your awesome name, Slim.

And, good call closing CompUSAs. The stores have become pretty useless lately. Too many TVs, not enough computers, and lousy pricing. Microcenter is so much better for PC/Mac stuff from a brick-and-mortar place.

How NOT to do Customer Support

Of all the many jobs I have had, IP network tech is the one I've done the most recently. My roommate and I have Comcast Cable for our TV and Internet, and can't wait for Verizon's fiber optic service to hit my neighborhood in Northern Virginia.

However, I must admit Comcast hasn't been as bad as I feared. I have heard and lived through horror stories of improper billing, bad service and lousy throughput, but things, knock on wood, have been fine for 17 of the 18 months we've had Comcast.

The past month, though, the cable modem has had difficulty synchronizing to the cable network. Cable TV is fine, router is fine, but the modem will just suddenly reset with the connection, and requires a power cycle just to resync with the Comcast network.

My roommate called to their tech support during Super Bowl week. The tech confirmed that the signal between the cable modem and the network was weak. He asked if we could call again when it was completely out. Sure thing.

We did, and again, their first-level tech support said the signal was weak. They'd send a truck out.

The guy was just here. He was, for all intents and purposes, not the swiftest cat they could have sent out. He was a subcontractor (always a bad sign) and said - get this - that our router was causing the problems. I said "How can our router knock your cable modem offline and deteriorate the signal on the Comcast network?" He said "Because your cable modem only supplies one IP."

I said "Right...and the router takes that one IP and supplies us with private IPs. What's your point?"

He said "The cable modem is fine."

I said "OK, then why is it dropping the signal?"

He said "your router burn out cable modem."

I said "Then why does it still work occasionally and the Comcast folks say that the signal coming to the cable modem is weak?"

He insisted that we were connecting too many computers to the router, and it burned out. The cable modem is fine, he said again. For the record, we have a laptop, 2 desktops, a Wii and a TiVO on the network, with a media server and a Xbox as sometime-connectors.

I told him that I was a networking tech, and what he was saying didn't make any sense. Comcast gives us an IP address that we sub out into a private IP range - in other words, exactly what 90% of the rest of their customers do. I asked him to show me the specs.

He fired up IE on my roommate's desktop, and showed the diagnostic screen. I took a look at the network address, saw a Surfboard logo (we have a Netgear router) and said "dude, you're not on our wireless network. This is our neighbor's net."

He said "See? Your cable modem is fine. Look at these diagnostics."

Sure enough, the stats were fine...but it wasn't our network. He was looking at a Surfboard and a Motorola. I told him "We don't have a Surfboard or a Motorola, we have a Netgear and an RCA." I looked at the ipconfig properties of my roommate's PC and saw that they weren't the IP range I put in. He had logged her into our neighbor's unprotected connection.

He told me I was wrong.

I said "Go downstairs, look at our cable modem and router, and you'll see it's a simple mistake. Wrong private network, wrong wireless network. We're on 192.168.1.1 with a SSID of Netgear. You're on 192.168.100.1 with a SSID of Wireless. Big difference."

He again said it was the router's fault. He refused to look at the correct diagnostics.

Now, at this point, I got a little indignant. I pulled up the diagnostics of our cable modem, and showed him the correct diagnostics page, showing nearly 200 sync outages and hundreds of thousands of frame errors, dozens of T3 and T4 errors - all of which indicate Comcast network issues. Those are big backbone circuits - the kinds that hook up entire neighborhoods and office buildings. I asked him "How does our netgear router knock down the much-bigger Comcast network, especially in frame sync?"

He said "Sir, for the third and fourth time, it's your router."

I went off. I explained to him what I have done (designed long haul IP networks and built terminal servers, Digital Subscriber Line Access Multiplexers, Cable Modem termination systems , t-1s, frame relay, OC-X circuits, etc...) and what I do (provide telecom support to the DoD) and that he might want to reconsider his thoughts. I showed him the correct cable modem diagnostics page (of which I took a screen shot) and said "Now that you're looking at the right network, try your analysis again. It's a signal error. A Netgear router is not going to cause TFTP and T-4 errors. Those are cable networking error codes, carrier error codes, not layer 2 and 3 crap from a consumer router to a cable modem."

This went on for nearly 10 minutes. It didn't matter how many times I showed him the errors coming directly from the cable modem, it was our router's fault.

"Sir, it's your router. Too many things hooked up to cable modem."

Only the router is hooked up to the cable modem. He never once went downstairs to see that. He tried to say that Comcast only allows one device to be connected to their cable modem (a flat-out lie if ever there was one).

I told him to get out. I used the F-bomb. I'm not proud of my language, but I expect an on-site tech to be somewhat competent. Don't tell me I'm wrong when you don't even have the intelligence to know when YOU'RE wrong. Even after I pointed out that he was looking at the wrong network, he wouldn't admit he was wrong. He had refused to do his job and would not go look at the router and cable modem itself. That's like taking your Honda to the mechanic, and the mechanic says your Honda is fine because he looked at your neighbor's BMW earlier, and it's fine.

We called up Comcast's tier one support again. They'll send out a new tech who will either replace the cable modem or boost the signal from the network access node. Of course, they have no idea when they'll be able to do that.

We've had spotty internet access for a month now, and considering our cable bill is close to a small car payment (nearly 140 bucks a month), you'd expect a modicum of service.

The moral of the story: Comcast has guaranteed themselves of a new Verizon FiOS customer. Not only is FiOS dramatically faster, they're cheaper.

Now Verizon's PR department - since I know you surf the web looking for anti-Comcast stories, let me tell you this - I have worked for CLECs for 8 of the past 10 years. I've worked with independent telephone companies who have deployed FTTC and FTTH systems, and I know that it flat-out rocks.

The main reason why we're going with you is because you have, at the end of the day, the best product available. If the FCC wasn't so busy looking to fine the hell out of any radio or TV station that dares mutter an expletive rather than investigate how Comcast has repeatedly screwed the hell out of consumers, then there'd never be a need for county utility boards to hold hearings to allow for FiOS competition. They'd BEG for you to step in and show Comcast how it's done.

As somebody who's worked for CLECs for 8 of the past 10 years, I never thought I'd write this - you're not nearly as bad as Comcast.

Breaking News - A Slut Has Died.

I figured the Anna Nicole Smith death would be old news by this weekend, but there is still the breathless reporting style on the cable nets. The Fourth Estate won't let this woman just die until they TELL you every possible detail of it. I wish I knew somebody who gave a rat's ass about it.

I know it's not considered PC to bash the dead, but, here's a woman with THREE different men claiming to be the baby's father.

What kind of a world-class slut do you have to be to have *3* men claim paternity of your child?

They wouldn't be making the claim if they hadn't have had sex with her at about the same time as the baby was conceived. And when she was still alive, she didn't deny any of those rumours too strongly.

Dirty, dirty cooze. That's all that is. If America had any real sense left, her stupidity would be a cause for derision, not celebrity.

R.I.P. iRon

My beloved iron, iRon, has now died.

Cause of death - too hot to handle.

Time of death - right when I needed to iron something this morning.

iRon, our six years together were great. I hope you have a peaceful journey to the landfill or recycle bin or whereever it is dead irons go.

You shall be missed.

From DCFUD.com - Whatever Happened To...?

A few months ago, I set out to chronicle the ways in which Alexandria's charming Del Ray neighborhood can rot your teeth and ruin your diet. An eating tour of Del Ray is a delicious invitation to gain weight and keep your dentist's kids in private school. There's so many fun little eateries in the neighborhood that I felt compelled to break the article into two parts, thereby giving it a more proper review. Part one would be the places I know best, and then after a careful sampling of other places in the area, I was going to write part two.

One small problem with that idea - while my teeth are fine, my diet was ruined. I gained over 15 pounds since I started writing Part II. And those were not "happy pounds" either. Angry, vicious pounds - more bitter than a jilted bride on Valentine's Day and colder than a divorce attorney. I felt Morgan Spurlock's pain. Being a FUD writer Super-Sized Me. I drew a line in the sand a few weeks ago and vowed to be more Dave Matthews than Dave Thomas or Dave Thomas.

In the past year, I've learned 10 unassailable facts about FUD in DC :

1) Del Ray really CAN tack on the pounds, plus the Dairy Godmother is serving Tiramisu AND Thin Mint Cookie custards this month. Courage, my friends.
2) When reviewing beers, candy bars and chili, always mix in a salad. Preferably not fruit salad from a can. And, preferably, not the can too.
3) Don't go to Wegman's when you're hungry. You'll end up with a cart full of food that you don't remember placing in the cart and have no idea how to pronounce. Then you'll drive home for the next hour wondering what in the hell just happened.
4) Don't go to Harris-Teeter when you're hungry. You'll end up with overpriced foods and no idea how to pay for it. Only supermarket I've ever been to that should offer financing and layaway. "Just three more payments and that soymilk is all mine!"
5) The large anything (burger, phở, beverage) may only be a dollar more than the small, but the small will do. Some phở places sell Extra-Large sizes - how can anybody finish one of those and not end up in a food coma?
6) That exercise thing...kinda important. Ever notice how many WSC and Sport & Health Clubs are near supermarkets? If Curves keeps it up, there'll be one in every supermarket.
7) Cakelove's butter cakes need to be brought up to room temperature before serving properly. Don't eat a dozen cupcakes while you're waiting.
8) Every one of those "Limited Edition" candy bars at CVS - meh. Not nearly as good as you'd expect, except the marshmallow Reese's and the Malt and Espresso Kit-Kats. Otherwise...meh. The white chocolates taste like wax and the caramels always seem off somehow. No need to try them - if they were any good, they wouldn't be "Limited Editions" but "Always Available."
9) Latin and Asian markets offer lower prices on meats and veggies and often with better variety. They may not have those bonus club cards, but the staples of a healthy diet are much more affordable. Giant and Soviet Safeway, take heed.
10) You know those people who bring donuts and cakes into the workplace? They secretly hate all their coworkers. They actually wanted a donut themselves, but assuage the guilt by bringing in 11 other sugarbombs to make everybody else fat and lethargic.

So, as I'm sticking to exercise, watercress and protein-shakes, I've been avoiding my normal calorie-rich fare. Regular exercise and a more moderate diet has brought me back down to a more comfortable weight.

I apologize in advance to any reader who lived vicariously through my gluttony, and to any establishment that might notice a sudden downturn in sales. Trust me, I miss you too.

this can't be

We live in a world where Peyton Manning is a Super Bowl winner.

So far, the 21st Century is seriously gord-damned messed-up. In seven short years, it has flipped its middle finger at the 20th Century and pissed in the old century's Corn Flakes.

The Red Sox AND the White Sox have won World Series.

The Seattle Seahawks have been to a Super Bowl.

Once again, the biggest soccer star in the world is coming to America, but this time, he's not graying and 50. He's young, early 30s, and ready to conquer Hollywood.

Plus, his wife is ridiculously skinny and has ridiculously fake boobies. She fits in L.A. perfectly!

America is showing a general interest in soccer. This scares me in more ways than I care to count.

The Wizards ain't half-bad. The best player in the league might well be Gilbert Arenas.

The Caps are playing in front of a largely apathetic home crowd at half capacity. Who'd a thought that the shiny new arena downtown would be worse for them than the hulking suburban bandbox filled to roof 3/4ths of the year?

The Yankees, like the Orioles, Devil Rays, Royals and Pirates, have not won a World Series in the 21st Century.

OBPOPCULTREF infiltrates the Post.com

As I begin my assault to be the ultimate digital mouthpiece, I am starting with WaPo.com chats, and then moving on to bigger fish, like 19 year old girls' LiveJournals.

There's no stopping me.


explaining The Decemberists from Virginia: I have a few The Decemberists tracks on my computer, and I've found they tend to stick out in even the most diverse playlists. I'll admit that the singing is shaky and the lyrics range from poetry to pretentious, but there's just -something- about them - that same something that causes some people to go bananas over ugly damned hairless dogs with bulgy eyes. The average dog owner looks at those mangy beasts and rolls their eyes in disbelief, but the person who loves that troll dog REALLY loves that troll dog.

I guess The Decemberists are my troll dog amongst a sea of Replacements' collies and Trashcan Sinatras' retreivers.

J. Freedom du Lac: This is a very good explanation. Thanks, I really appreciate this one!

Instant Karma Granted

To the idiot with the stupid "Farms are our Future" Maryland tags - coming from a state with next-to-no-working farms in nearly 30% of its land and a future firmly stocked in biotech, military and sprawl - in the reddish, early 2000s sedan on the DC-section of I-395 on Saturday morning. Hope the traffic ticket was worth it.

That road, even under light traffic loads, is not designed for high-speed cruising. Just because it says it's an interstate doesn't mean you can cruise at 90MPH. Too many on-ramps, off-ramps, left-side exits, ending lanes, confused tourists - it's just not an easy drive.

It gets worse when natives decide to crank up their four-cylinders to near Ludicrous Speed. This includes Mr. Maryland Farmer. Maryland Farmer decided to pass me at 75, 80 MPH, a difference of nearly 30 MPH, just before the 395 split towards the Capitol. No big deal - Lord knows I've been passed before - but I was slowing down to avoid a Slow-Poke Country Boy in the City in front of me who was terrified of making a lane change. As he stuttered into the right lane, a Normal Guy on My Left slowed down too, as Slow-Poke didn't have a damned clue. Slow-Poke attempted his right lane change three times, and though he had plenty of room, he got scared, swerved back left, overcompensated, and scared the Normal Guy on My Left. They were at matching speeds at this point, about 40.

Mr. Maryland Farmer decided that he wasn't going to wait for any of this foolishness, and passed me, Slow-Poke and Normal Guy by *MAKING* his own passing lane in between Slow-Poke and Normal Guy. He invented a lane, coming within an inch or so of both vehicles. Given Slow-Poke's timidness and lack of coordination, I'm amazed those two didn't collide - which surely would have gotten me either into the Jersey wall, those two cars, or some combination of the two.

But Mr. Maryland Farmer squeezed through there, and even though I saw it with my own eyes, I'm still not sure how he made it. A half-second either way, and there's a big collision on 395, and the traffic reporters on WTOP would mention the mess that this accident would surely create. He was driving like an asshole - a skilled asshole - but an asshole nonetheless.

Not even a mile later, before the 395/295 split, Mr. Maryland Farmer was pulled over on the side of the road, as an unmarked police officer, lights ablaze, caught his antics, and was putting an end to this one-man reign of road terror.

Of course, being about as gracious as Veruca Salt in "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory," I wound down my window and laughed laughed laughed my law-abiding ass off at him. I've never been so impressed by a police officer's timing before! Mr. Maryland Farmer gave me a dirty look, but he's the one who just watched his insurance go up.

So, Mr. Maryland Farmer - just for the sake of clarity, I laughed at you, and I will continue to laugh at you. I don't know what police agency got that guy, but that was awesome. Great job, Johnny Law. It's not often that Karma is so swift and so accurate.

Feeding the Beast

The far-too-horny doctors on Grey's Anatomy came up with that gem of a term to describe the occasional need for sex. Sometimes, you just need to feed the beast.

In my case, my desire to own more toys than the other kids has led me to more new, wonderful purchases.

You will quickly see the quality of photos on my Flickr account and this blog go up. I just bought a Sony A100 Alpha digital SLR camera. This sucker has more buttons than a sewing shop and I'm looking forward to taking many wonderful pictures...once I find the On/Off switch.

You also might find me soon, bloodied and beaten, at Wii Have A Problem as I have gone out and bought a Nintendo Wii. First games - Madden 07 and Swing Away Golf. Should be fun, though I'm building a protective cover for my TV...just in case.

More thoughts on the NFL

While listening to the sports guy on the radio this morning, I was hit with a "duh!" moment. As in, "Duh! Why didn't I think of this last night?"

The Bears were going to win yesterday's game no matter what the zebras did, as the Bears pretty much crushed the Saints. The Saints tried, but that Bears D is tough, and they had a good offense yesterday. However, the Pats/Colts was specifically decided by the refs. Every call went towards the Colts, and I wondered why. I initially thought it was because of Peyton Manning.

Nope. When Dave Johnson at WTOP said "the first time two black coaches will meet in the Super Bowl," I knew what the story was. No way the Pats were going to win in a close game. Absolutely no way.

I know it's an important societal event that two black men are leading Super Bowl teams, especially considering how it wasn't that long ago that NFL coaching was a job only for white men.

It's just a damned shame that one earned his way in and the other should be at home watching it.

in the words of Comic Book Guy...

Worst.

Officiating.

Ever.

I have never seen NFL referees look like NBA refs. The way the refs gave calls to the home teams in both Championship games today, it looked like Jordan taking four steps between dribbles or Shaq charging the opponent, and drawing a blocking call. Simply horrible calls all day - the Saints lost a fumble after the guy hit the ground, and replays clearly showed him down, and the Colts received more gifts from the refs than an only child on Christmas.

All members of Patriots Nation have to be beside themselves over two interference calls - one against them in which no contact was made; the other not called when the Colts' DB clearly hit the Pat's WR before the ball got there. If I was Robert Kraft, damn the fines from the league and let `em rip! It's pretty obvious that the NFL wanted their Golden Boy Peyton playing against the Number 3 market in the US, Chicago.

I pray that the Bears win the Super Bowl just so I can go an offseason without seeing 700 Peyton Manning commercials.

The NFL should be ashamed - these are the best refs they could find???? Awful, awful job.

This Guy is Near!

I can't bloody believe it.

My new hero, Representative David Wu, D-Oregon, will be in the building today. I can't wait to meet him.

Here's where I'm torn - comedywise, I can control the A/V system to replay his famous Klingons in the White House line, and it would be the Funniest Thing Ever, but, I also want to remain employed.

Damn...I haven't been this torn since I got a free camera for an ugly friend's wedding. I love free cameras, but I had to take pictures of the ugly friend.

No winner...no win.

from DCFUD - TdA

It was no surprise that Taberna Del Alabardero would have a delicious menu for Restaurant Week. The place is synonmous with quality and hospitality in both on both sides of the Atlantic. What I wasn't prepared for was the majesty of the place, nearly dwarfing the quality of the food.

It would be wise for all interior decorators and designers to study the Taberna, to show how a restaurant can "make and entrance" like a movie star. The small, crowded bar area was full of people waiting for their tables or content to munch on tapas. That small waiting area quickly gives way to glorious dining chambers, featuring high ceilings, bold red paint and soft lighting. Tables are spaced far enough apart to lend a sense of privacy, and the design allows for plenty of background noise that never intrudes. The walls are decorated with various paintings, a whimsical hat decoration frames the coat check closet; classic prints from the Old World, and lend to the illusion that the next two hours will be spent in the south of Spain, not two blocks from the White House.

My friends at the table remarked at the quality of the duck mixed in with their field greens. Duck can be a tricky bird to serve, as it can go from soft and flaky to overcooked and gamey with little warning, but the light salt taste and gentle texture gave good contrast to the salad. The white bean soup was complemented with pieces of quail and slab bacon, and I was tempted to order another bowl or three. The mushroom sauce topping the salmon drew raves, while the peppered flank and potatoes were seasoned perfectly. My only complaint was that I should have ordered the white and dark chocolate mousse with almond whisky sponge cake - yeah, I gained a pound just writing that. I ordered the flan, and while it was certainly acceptable, the mousse was clearly the star.

After such a fine meal, Chef Santi Zabaleta's tasting menu looks a lot like my upcoming birthday gift from myself to myself...and it's a lot more affordable than an iPhone!

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Taberna Del Alabardero
1776 I Street NW
Washington DC 20006
202-429-2200

Had to comment...WHO VOTED FOR THIS GUY!?!?!

Jeez, ladies and gentlemen, meet your new Democratic majority in the House!

We've been laughing at that guy all over the place at work. He's going to vote on the Defense Budget? Holy Hell!!!

On the bright side, we're all getting new phasers and all generals get one dude in a red shirt to stand near them at all times.

Wow...

"the real Klingons in Star Trek..."

"Faux Klingons???"

DAMN - makes Senator Ted Stephens in Alaska look like a god-derned genius!

And people wonder why I'm bringing back the Whig Party.

No Con-Fusion Here.

The International Headquarters of OBPOPCULTREF located in charming Arlington, Virginia, is covered by an ungodly amount of wall-to-wall carpeting. Two fuzzy cats and two very fuzzy dogs, plus two humans, can give the floors a new layer of shag in just a few days, so a good vacuum is vital.

Jayme, the Official Roommate of OBPOPCULTREF, brought two older vacuum cleaners to the pad, while I brought a newish, though woefully-underpowered Eureka to the vacuum bullpen. So, the two of us had three vacuums to vacuum two floors.

Couple of small problems with that concept - Jayme's vacuums were essentially busted, and my Eureka sucks about as much as a Thai hooker with lockjaw. My limited repair skills (replacing belts and bags) could not make Jayme's vacuums vacuum.

So, I drove off looking for a new rug-cleaning device. First stop - Best Buy. Why? Because I had a gift card, and anything better than a new vacuum cleaner is a cheaper new vacuum cleaner. The odd thing about Best Buy's vacuums was that every single one in stock had been returned. A husband's idea of a romantic Christmas gift for his wife gone awry 50 times over? Dishonest store employees? Everybody checking the power of the Dyson to see if it really is worth a car payment price?

Next stop was K-Mart. Why? Because I haven't been in one in years, and I figured the Sears/Kmart marriage would prove fruitful for vacuums. They had next-to-nothing in stock - apparently this was a big Christmas for vacuums. I was disappointed that all they had were light-weight plastic vacuums. I'm guessing that ever since Dyson came on board and could sell their plastic tornados for over $300 bucks, then why should other makers use metal anymore? Plastic is lighter, easier to cart around, especially on steps, and is easier to ship across the country.

Next stop - Kohl's. Why? I'm not sure. I'm in Kohl's as rarely as I'm in Kelly Monaco. Holy hell is that place expensive! At least 30% more than Best Buy across the board. I moved on.

By this point, I was glossy-eyed, delusional. I saw Wal-Mart. I fought my inner urges, since I recently found out that Jesus probably wouldn't want me to shop at Wal-Mart. I generally dislike Wal-Mart, but I was desperate.

I walked in, saw the obligatory $300 Dyson and $40 Eureka, but spotted the $100 Hoover Fusion. I hadn't seen that model in any of the other stores, but was somewhat impressed by the decent price, motor, attachments and brand. What really sold me was the Superman-style of the plastic parts. I mean, if you can't get Jaws, the old metal Kirby from Mr. Mom, go for whatever makes you laugh. And, to me, the idea of a vacuum dressed as Superman is really damned funny.

Here's the rub - the Fusion bloody hell rocks. That thing can suck up some serious dirt, dog hair and slow-moving cats. I was amazed at what it was able to absorb. I've forgotten what it was like to see a properly-powered device. Plus, it has a special powered tool that makes cleaning carpeted stairs and furniture a breeze. Not bad for 100 bucks.

Given my track record of naming inanimate objects that delight me, you know the Fusion would join my Pontiac Vibe "Raider," and my baseball bats "Excalibur" and "Whombat," my racing bike "Chieftain," my mountain bike "Ack!" and racquetball racquet "Boomstick." The Supervac has been dubbed, fairly obviously, Kal-El.

Did you ever have a dream in which you...

...die?

Contrary to the old wives' tale, you don't die in real life, but you do wake up in one hell of a cold sweat.

Falling back asleep is well-nigh impossible, too.

Time to mix in some St. John's Wort or something...

Borat - A Review by the Five Paragraph Bitter Film Critic

I watched this movie in sheer disbelief. Much like that poor son of a bitch who had to announce the Hindenberg tragedy, or even Al Michaels during the Miracle on Ice, I can't believe what I just saw.

Once upon a time, the 5PBFC thought he was a funny dude, and did a variety of small jobs in the entertainment industry - deejay, photographer, comedian, screenwriter - and the fact that you're reading this blog and not my award-winning novel "How to Get Stinkin' Rich and Hotties by Being Silly and Moderately Talented" should show how far I got on that plan.

Why did I fail? Good question. No doubt I was funny, and I still am. I'm as entertaining now as ever, and certainly better than many comics and writers on TV and movies. Was I not good-looking enough? Perhaps. I have yet to get my beer gut into a six-pack in the ten years since it's inception. Not connected with the industry enough? Perhaps as well, but I've got friends with more HBO specials than brain cells, and been on Comedy Central more times than "Mo' Money."

Perhaps the real reason was that I couldn't go all the way. I couldn't commit to the lifestyle. Driving 500 miles for a gig, performing in Kinhump, Arkansas in front of 18 beer-drinkin' rednecks just looking to beat the hell out of a city slicker. I needed the comfort of a full-time day job, health benefits, and the knowledge that I could walk away at any time. And I sure as hell couldn't commit to a bit, to a character, to a point-of-view. I tried to be the cute wise aleck that Dane Cook is hogging right now. I can't be more bitter and jaded than Doug Stanhope - I tried, and I wasn't funny; simply bitter and jaded. I can't rant like Lewis Black, I can't do impersonations as well as Darryl Hammond, or Jimmy Fallon, or even Gilbert Godfried. I could be funny, but I couldn't find a character that I wanted to wear, day in, and day out. Something that came from the soul, an extenstion of my subconscious, but also not so close that every joke became a mini-autobiography, each laugh a catharsis.

Why is my review so self-introspective? Because I know that if I had a million monkeys in front of a million typewriters, I could never write something half as funny as Borat. Sasha Baron Cohen has created a character of epic stupidity, chauvasnistic, anti-Semetic views and an undeniable inner sweetness, and he plays it to perfection. Such an incredible dichotomy, and he nailed it. Out of the park, home run, game over. His committment to the character and the story is so great that he risked his health and his jaw more than a few times, and ended up making the funniest movie of the decade (sorry, Team America, you've been bumped, catch the next flight). How committed? All I need to say is "nude wrestling with a hairy dude with bigger bitchtits than the guy in Fight Club."

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9 out of 9.5 Whammies! It's not the perfect movie, but it's damned, damned close. It's done in the same mockumentary style as Waiting for Huffman and A Mighty Wind, yet so much funnier than those two great films. I deducted half a Whammy! for making me see the bitch tits.
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Overheard at work...

"Is Mr. Hankey going to come? What about Dr. Jones?"

Of course, you know the first things I thought of...







tell me I'm not a child of pop culture :)

Verizon Wireless Fails at Math

Courtesy of George at VerizonMath/, here's a sordid tale of how a decimal point can make a big, big difference. Namely, about 70 bucks.

Want a quick audio tour? Just fire up your web browser and point it to this display at YTMND.com.

Check out this guy's battle with customer service and bad, bad corporate math. It's an entertaining and, sadly, kind of depressing. I mean, if a Fortune 500 company can botch basic math like this, what chance do any of us have?

I'm a lazy bones

Sorry for not contributing to my O.B. too much lately, as I've been doing some writing for DCFUD.com, helping people move, going to weddings (more on that later), cooking for 18,000 people, and trying to avoid gaining weight and getting fired.

And who says I never learned to juggle!?!?

First, writing for a food blog has had some unintended consequences. People who don't really know me suddenly think that I know every restaurant in North America, have dined at every pricy place in DC, and then express shock when I have no idea what they're talking about. Certainly, I've heard of the big famous restaurants in a few cities, and ones ran by celebrity chefs, but when somebody asks if I've eaten at Le Pigtaille Rue in Des Plaines, Illinois, I'm going to wonder what they're thinking. How often do I get to Illinois, let alone Des Plaines, and why would I eat there when all of Chicago would be at my whim? And, if I'm dining at Citronelle or 1789 every night, why the hell would I be in Des Plaines?

And I just made that name up...Le Pigtaille Rue. Street of Pig Taille...my French is rusty, and I figure such a weird, obviously-fake name will allow me to avoid any nasty lawsuits.

Also, I'm somehow suddenly an expert on all things related to food. Cooking tips, grocery stores to use, caterers, where to dine while travelling in Europe - all are fair game once you mention you food blog. I think it's sweet that folks want my opinion, but it's just that - an opinion. I'm not able to recommend a restaurant in Paris France or Paris Texas, but I can suggest one near Paris, Virginia. The Inn at Little Washington. Quite tasty. But while I can cook, I'm by no means a chef. I made a fine Thanksgiving spread, but still can't make reliable pho. Phooey.

For Thanksgiving, I had about 20 or so MeetinDC folks over at Chez Ray. I made a 15-pound turkey, about 10 pounds of stuffing, green beans, corn, Chaimisu (tiramisu made with chai liqeuer called Voyant) some cookies and some Guiness Bread. I also attempted pho, which was a worse botch than anything Scott Norwood could have done in the Super Bowl 15 years ago.

A couple of days after the Cookathon 2006, my old friend Scott Appel got married to his girlfriend of the past few years, Maisie. She's a sweet gal, and she's got to be tough to put up with Appel. The wedding itself was lovely - a gorgeous old mansion at a golf course in Prince George's County, Maryland, and the weather was amazing. 60 and sunny in November? A lot of June Brides would kill for those picture-perfect conditions.

Seeing some old friends from school has definitely kicked in the ole' "life assessment" gene. Tim is married, building a house in southern Pennsylvania, and has a kid. Andy is divorced after two years of wedded blish-ish. Darren's married and seems to have found somebody who can more than ably take his crap. Matt brought a lovely young lady as his date, and has been mentioning that he might be ready to settle down. And Heath...Heath had a date. Rock on, Kubiack!

And, then there's me. Not quite as old as Tim or Darren, a little older than Matt, Heath and Andy, and about the same as Scott. Where am I in the whole dating/marriage world? Do I even BELONG in that world? How did they get there? What am I doing right...or wrong...or both?

As I watched Tim, a man responsible for one of my favorite memories and, one of my scariest, serve as Scott's best man, I was struck by how much he's grown up. So responsible, such a doting father. He looked at his (admittedly) adorable little girl, and he had such love in his eyes. His best friend just got married, and he held his world in his hands. She giggled, and promptly farted when he set her down.

Like father, like daughter. Daddy's little girl. Woe to be the first grab-hand guy to find the young lady attractive in 2018!

And he wanted to leave the reception so the bridal party, including the groom and bride, could go back and watch the Maryland Terrapins play a football game. Some things never change, such as the love of the Terps' athletic program by their supposed in-state rival Towson (State) Tigers.

Wedding Crashers we ain't.

In all this I decided something. I'm not those guys, never have been, and never will. Using friends as life post markers is useless. So what if somebody gets married, reproduced and divorced before you? The real question, and one that can only be answered internally is - are YOU happy? Not the 12-year-old planning your life away in a dark bedroom, dreaming of adulthood. Not the 18-year-old college freshman looking to turn college on its knees. Not the 23-year-old postgraduate who realizes their degree is utterly useless in the real world. But the you of right this very second.

Are you happy?

Would the 12 year old you think of you as a role model? The 18 year old? The 23 year old?

I might figure out the answer...when the 38-year-old looks back at the latest 5-year plan.

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