Michael Jackson Turns 70

...or 50, one of the two.

It's too bad that the name Michael Jackson is now almost synonymous with creepy perv-man. I choose to remember when his sexual ambiguity was still finely tuned and not a bane to his character. When the moonwalk was silky and left us in a trance. Let's just take this moment to search our souls for anything that resembles the admiration that lil' Carlton expresses upon bumping into his doppleganger.



Have a great holiday weekend.

The Games of the XXIX Olympiad

The Olympics are again upon us, and as a staunch proponent of human achievement, I'm fully on board. I love the flippin' and jabbin' and everything that goes along with the wide variety of events that are on display. My only regret is that I don't make the effort to tune in at 3 a.m. when people are shooting stuff and getting judo chopped.

I haven't done a lot of research about the Olympic games, but I'm sure that at the conception of it they were primarily created as a chance for people to demonstrate some sort of survival/combat skill when there was no particular reason to kill anyone at the time. There are probably a few exceptions, but for the most part you're attacking someone or getting attacked. Fencing is my favorite example. It sort of forces the loser to think, "Man, I wouldn't want that to happen to me for real."

I like to speculate about what certain events could possibly be simulating. Archery and other shooting events are clearly representing some sort of deadly prowess, but what's with the watery hurdles in the steeplechase? It's like, "We don't want you to develop the same kind of rhythm you would in regular hurdles, we almost want you to forget there are hurdles at all until WHAP....SPLOOSH!" It makes me think of fleeing from a crime through a bunch of people's yards.

Seinfeld says it best.

Ridiculous Photoshop medley...

"Oooh, I want a $5 footlong!"

"I bit my tongue."

Get a Room

If there is one gripe I have about our neighborhood it would probably be the loose attitude toward public displays of varmint affection. These teenage squirrels get all juiced up on hormones and all discretion goes straight out the window. I'll tell you right now that the video you're about to see may shock you. You may find this to be adorable or you may think it is absolutely horrible. You may span the entire spectrum of emotion several times in just one viewing. Whatever the case, you'll be changed forever...or you'll again wish you had your two minutes back.

Precious Paparazzi Pix

It was a cool, overcast Wednesday night a couple months ago when our co-ed crew of volleyball warriors was assembled around a picnic table rating our most recent performance and sizing up other teams in the B bracket, when I realized that I was in the presence of someone special.

Had no one else seen him yet? Surely people recognized him, I mean he's been in a lot of movies...movies that target the exact demographic that this area is crawling with. Whatever the case, it was clear that the important thing was to settle down, shake off the excitement, and snap a couple of hot pixxx.

Part ninja, part paparazzo, I pretended to fiddle with a friends camera as if to be thinking, "Huh, pretty cool camera. Lemme check out summa these sweet features." But under that dopey appearance I was as focused and intense as a laser beam as I framed up my subject with the cunning and poise one would expect from a TMZ assassin.

What did I end up with? A couple of mediocre pictures of a guy that my friends and I kinda think looks like Will Ferrell. I wonder if he drives a Dodge Stratus.

Stay classy San Diego.

Shut Up and Dance

The other day I started writing this impassioned post about the home run derby that I just watched on tv, the thrust of it being that one of my favorite players won it and nobody gave a crap. Basically just taking it altogether too seriously.

Meh. Aren't you glad I didn't finish it?

Instead of getting wrapped around the axle with all of that, I figured I should stick with what I do best.

Dance.

Saturday (Friday) in the Park

With a couple of days off work, I was invited to take part in one of Jodi and Maura's favorite activities; a stroll at Irvine Park. They saw it as an opportunity to stretch their legs and mark out a good pace while I felt the time would be better spent farting around with our camera with the intention of producing another slice of cinematic gold for the Lair.

Truth be told, I probably got the best workout as I hopped from benches to rocks, sprinting ahead and up hills to get the shots you deserve. I think you'll be glad that I demanded everything and compromised nothing in the creation of this summer blockbuster. Actually, I think you'll probably wish there was some way I could refund the three minutes you spent watching it.

Fireworks and Complete Jerks

Today is a holiday that may remind you to pledge allegiance to our country, and with this opportunity I would like to pledge to you that I will continue to bring you the finest, most exclusive stories you'll find on the internet. This is not one of those stories, however, this is but a promise.

I would also like to give a couple of birthday shouts to a couple of brothers from altogether different mothers (different from each other's and different from mine). Happy birthday to Superchad and happy birthday to the sensei of the Brandodojo.

Go me. It's muh birfday.


Superchad is getting a little anxious as his visit with Santa is growing ever stale.


Enjoy the holiday.