It’s 8am. While most people are still sleeping soundly, I am serenaded by the sound of concrete being forcefully removed from the street by my arch nemesis, the jackhammer. It’s unrelenting sound penetrates my apartment windows from every angle, piercing my skull with every hydraulic thrust. There is no escape. There is nowhere to hide. Three seconds of noise followed by three seconds of silence. Anxiety builds with every second of eerie silence. When will the man bedecked in fluorescent orange once again attack my senses with a pull of the trigger? It’s enough to drive a tired man crazy.

The ultimate revenge strategy:

Step 1: Acquire jackhammer.
Step 2: Apply liberally to any and all surfaces in close proximity to sleeping target.
Step 3: Repeat Step 2 every morning for a month.
Step 4: Laugh diabolically as your target inaudibly curses at you from an adjacent window.

Yeah, that would be totally sweet.

Wednesday night I attended Game 4 of the Sabres/Islanders series at Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum on Long Island. This was the first time I’ve been to a postseason game at an opponent’s arena, where the numbers are not in your favor and the wrong colors turn you into a target.



Let me start by saying that I’ve watched Pee-Wee games at arenas bigger than the so-called Coliseum. My seat had literally six inches of legroom, crushing my lanky frame between the seatbacks and forcing my knees directly against my bladder.
After a few Bud Lights I needed to find a men’s room. Once I made it to the concourse, I fought my way through the unending wall of men that was encircling the arena. This couldn’t be the bathroom line, could it? Apparently it could. This place officially sucks.

Insufficient amenities aside, it was the Islander fans that caused me the most frustration. Cheering amongst the legions of Sabres fans at HSBC Arena in Buffalo is an exciting experience, filled with high-fives and borderline delusional optimism. Heckling opposing players and fans comes second to supporting the team we all love. Conversely, cheering against thousands of “fans” with no knowledge of the rules of hockey or even their own team is absolutely infuriating. When I wasn’t being called “upstate trailer trash” or some of their more vulgar taunts, I had to listen to them boo their own captain, Alexei Yashin. And they call themselves fans?

During their arena-led “Let’s Go Islanders” chants, fans were encouraged to twirl arena-supplied towels bearing their team’s logo. While I cannot deny their exceptional ability to clean my face of nacho cheese or absorb moisture in a urinal, I am confused by their name— “Rally Towel”. Does the word ‘rally’ not insinuate the need for a comeback effort? These fans were obviously confused and misguided. Considering this was likely their first hockey game of the season, if not ever, I suppose it’s understandable.



When the Sabres played the Islanders during the regular season, the Coliseum drew a staggering 8,000 some odd spectators to an arena that reaches capacity at twice that number. Meanwhile, HSBC Arena (which holds a few thousand more people, incidentally) has had every game of the season sold out since before the first puck dropped this October. Is there really any question as to which club has a true fan following?

Considering the ignorance of the Islander fans to their team and the sport itself, it’s no wonder they resort to childish name-calling or throwing full beers on the ice in lieu of just cheering for their team. This isn’t to say we haven’t thrown our fair share of things in Buffalo, but even upstate trailer trash knows you don’t throw a full beer— especially if you paid $6.50 for it.

The game itself was very intense, with pretty goals, big hits and solid goaltending on both ends. With about a minute left in the game, Jason Pominville found the back of the net to put the Sabres up 4-2 and seal the victory. As I celebrated the game-clinching goal, a middle-aged man sitting in front of me threatened to kick my ass in front of his young son. As I commended the father for being such a terrific role model, his son give me the finger to which I could only reply “you learned from the best, kid”.

As I exited the arena, another middle-aged man began taunting me saying that my team has never won any Stanley Cups. Is that really the best insult you could come up with? That fact alone is what makes us cheer so loud to begin with. Considering the last time the Islanders won a Cup was the year I was born, I was not impressed. As easy as it would have been to tear apart these idiots for being such pathetic, classless poor sports— I didn’t have to. I let the scoreboard do all of my talking. I hope all of those verbal threats the Islander’s fans threw my way offer them some consolation during a long off-season once we finish them off tonight in Game 5. (UPDATE: my prediction was correct thanks to an absolutely unbelievable save by Ryan Miller with 12 seconds left)

As long as I’m so deep into the topic of hockey, I would also like to take a moment to address all of the people who like to discredit hockey as a sport. Just because it doesn’t carry the mainstream acceptance of some other sports doesn’t mean it’s participants are any less talented or athletic. I challenge you to skate across a sheet of ice in an attempt to knock a small piece of rubber into a heavily guarded net using nothing but a stick. Add in the fact that every opposing player is looking to take your head off and all of a sudden Shaquille O’Neal putting a ball through an unprotected hole only a few inches out of his standing reach doesn’t seem so damn impressive now does it?

Allow me to further my argument with some examples of a player’s actions and their consequences across the major sports leagues:

Basketball: laugh at the ref— get thrown out of the game.
Baseball: balk at a runner— give him the base.
Football: take off your helmet— 15-yard penalty.
Soccer: no joke needed.
Hockey: knock someone unconscious— sit out for 5 minutes or less.

I think I’ve made my points. Go Sabres and long live hockey!

In a rare interview with the press, Hank Aaron announced that he will not be at the ballpark when Barry Bonds breaks his homerun record, stating “Uh-uh. No, no. I’m not going to be around.” Bonds is currently 20 dingers short of Aaron’s 43-year-old record of 755, a number he will likely surpass by the middle of the season.

While most athletes will support the record-breaker by attending the game that their record is broken in, I completely agree with Aaron’s decision to skip out. I honestly can’t believe that Bond’s has the balls to continue playing for the sole purpose of breaking Aaron’s record. Bond’s need to retire before he makes his hitting records, and even Major League Baseball itself, seem more illegitimate. To steal one of the most hallowed records in sports after being exposed as a cheater is roughly the equivalent of saying “up yours” to not only the previous record holder, but the sport itself and everyone associated with it, including the fans.

Hey Barry, I know you’re really depressed and everything, but here’s something to think about instead of whining about how everyone hates you. While you were sticking needles in Jose’s ass for all those years, honest players like Hammerin’ Hank were enhancing their performance the old fashioned way— in the gym and the batting cage. Imagine how upsetting it is for Aaron to watch the record he earned with natural (key word) talent and hard work be taken away and soiled by a juiced-up disgrace like Bonds. I’m with you, Hank. I won’t be celebrating, watching or even acknowledging this record changing hands. If I ever have to see Bond’s name at the top of a record list it had better be accompanied by a large asterisk. Or be a list of the world’s biggest douchebags.

My roommate works for a respected interactive agency here in NYC that is currently in the market for a Senior Interface Engineer. While looking through resumes of potential candidates, he came across this atrocity of a website (turn your sound up), accompanied by the following grammatically hilarious cover letter:

Your Senior Interface Designer position is of great interest to me and I’am a treasure chest full of knowledge, waiting to be opened! By blending my extensive knowledge of computer programming, and business marketing skills added onto your vision and goals, new horizons are easily obtainable. Whether you plan to utilize E-commerce or interactive videos, your company will be able to set new objectives, increase its internet exposure, advertising response, market share, and widen its global distribution avenues in the future with my services. I can creatively update any site by utilizing my custom FLASH 3D animations, voiceovers, sound effects, special effects and remixed-music, to establish an interactive video site that will capture your customer’s imagination.

By shooting videos and blending my HTML skills together I can create a futuristic designing theme that creates “Thunder Clapping” MOMA! {Word of Mouth Advertising} My innovative designs will add a sparkling touch of class to any site plus my skills run parallel to the present demands of your vacant position. My background also includes a wide variety of direct mail business marketing knowledge, creative media ads, and business proposal writing skills. I’am self motivated, own all of my own computer equipment, reliable, honorable, catch on quick, able to follow instructions, and possess the operating knowledge to over 52 different computer programs.

My animation skills are expert, and I’am learning advanced coding for FLASH action script games. If you are looking for a professional with insight, foresight, vision, mega experience and common sense! As we enter the outer limits of the new millennium with interactive animations and videos. Then your nationwide search for an innovative FLASH web designer has just ended.

If this guy’s resume came across my desk I would have to give him an interview just so I could laugh hysterically in his face for hours on end. You are a complete disgrace to every talented designer who takes pride in their work and their profession. Could you possibly be delusional enough to think you are qualified for any senior level position, let alone as an interface engineer? You can’t even write a coherent sentence!

Between the website and the cover letter, I have many questions and comments:

 
Listen very closely. Not everyone who can throw together a webpage with some annoying music is a web designer. You suck. Application denied.

Chytoria Graham of Erie, PA pleaded guilty today to aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a child after swinging her 4-week-old son like a baseball bat at her boyfriend during a fight. Graham admitted taking the infant by the feet and swinging him, fracturing the infants skull on impact. Her reason— depression.

My blood boils when I see scumbags like this get off with a slap on the wrist after claiming some bullshit medical condition. I’ll tell you what would be depressing to me— getting my skull crushed after being used as a weapon by my own mother. It’s disgusting to think that this woman could possibly get away with rotting in jail for only 5 years. Cases of this nature call for a more creative and suitable punishment. Forget prison— wrap her in barbed wire, then roll her down a rocky hill into a large vat of salt. That would be something to be depressed about.

Did I mention she has three other children and is currently pregnant with a fifth? Why is it that the most unfit parents are always the ones that continue to reproduce? Give these kids a chance in life and put them up for adoption. Honestly, what does she need another baby for? I have one theory: baby nunchucks.

I was reading an article about homeless people today. Apparently they are becoming a problem— around 750,000 strong. I’ve only been living in New York for 7 months now, but I’ve already seen more than enough of this problem first hand. If I’m not being hit up for change I’m being offended by their smell. They’re everywhere— and come in all varieties.

The Stinky Bum
This is the kind that you know is around way before you see them. The worst feeling in the world is when you realize you’ve stepped onto a subway car with a stinky bum. I made this tragic mistake a few days ago, walking onto what I thought was a less overcrowded car. I was greeted by the familiar smell— usually a mixture of wet dog, body odor and possibly urine. I turned to look for him only to realize the situation was far worse than anticipated. With his bare feet lounged across an entire bench, he smiled at us as if he was enjoying our displeasure. Nearly half the car was rendered uninhabitable. The smell left me dry heaving at work until well after lunch. How do you let your life get to that point? The point where people will literally not come within 20 feet of you. I’m not even asking that you get a job, just stay off the F line.

The Crazy Bum
This variety of bum is usually at least mildly entertaining, even if it is just for being pathetic. Sometimes this craziness is a result of legitimate mental illness, but it’s more than likely from all the crack they spent the day smoking. Some talk to themselves, some scream profanities at families and some just stare silently at nothing. You never know what you’re going to get, but it’s the unpredictability that make them entertaining.

The Preacher Bum
Some preach the word of Jesus Christ, others proclaim doomsday theories. Either way, I can’t read my book or even listen to music. I do not care about anything you have to say and I have no intent in giving you money for saying it. Shut up.

The Talented Bum
This is the bum I am most likely to spare some change for. They are showing effort. Whether it’s drumming plastic buckets or playing a harmonica, they are at least trying to make a contribution to society. This can be said of few other bums categorized on this list. I appreciate your efforts fellas— just don’t touch me.

The Caveman Bum
This bum does not speak English, or any other understandable dialect. He speaks in grunts. One of the most notable of this class is the 14th Street Barbarian. Standing roughly 6′4” tall and 300lbs, he is adorned in tattered brown rags and has a thin layer of filth covering all exposed skin that accents his long, frizzy black hair. You can usually find him grunting, spitting or pointing his fingers like a gun at people throughout this station. It’s an incredibly unsettling experience.

The Shameless Bum
The name says it all. This is the bum that you see relieving himself on the stairs you are trying to walk up, picking butts out of ashtrays or eating a sandwich out of the garbage. All I can do is shake my head in silent disapproval.

The Disabled Bum
I’m not sure if these guys are bums because they are disabled or just average people trying to cash in on sympathy. They usually don’t have the defeated-at-life look most bums do. Although, I am sometimes impressed by their determination to panhandle. One time when I was on the train, a man in a wheelchair, legs gone at the knees, came through the door. He somehow managed to make it through the doors that connect the cars while the train was going full speed, an impressive feat. He began to wheel his way down the car, shaking his coffee can. As we approached a stop, the conductor hit the brakes particularly abruptly, sending the man flying across the car and into the door with force. I knew I shouldn’t laugh, but he had to have known that was coming. I can barely stand on the train unaided as it is. Wheels would be out of the question.

The Entitled Bum
This is the bum least worthy of my pocket change. At least all of the other bums had some type of charm, especially if they are asking for money. These guys will walk by you and shake a handful of change in your face—expecting money. No story, no entertainment, no effort at all. And if you don’t give to this worthy cause they look at you in disgust. Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was obligated to give money to you for shaking change in my face. The most infuriating part about these bums is that people actually give them money for this feeble attempt at panhandling. The last thing a bum needs is to be encouraged for a complete lack of effort (See: The ‘Given Up On Life’ Bum) . I know you love your crack and malt liquor, but you’re going to have to do better than that to earn my change.

The ‘Given Up On Life’ Bum
This bum is usually passed out on a busy sidewalk. When they aren’t sleeping, they lay around with a look of complete hopelessness— not even bothering to ask for money. No purpose. No meaning. So depressing.

Got another category or good bum story? Use the comments.

Kelly and I were on the F train heading to midtown when we ran into this character. The video comes in about halfway through our conversation with him, but since his drunken ramblings made no sense anyways it doesn’t really matter.

Ridiculous claims made:

• Name is ‘Bond, James Commander’
• Is from Woodstock, NY, Bennington, VT and Hoboken, NJ
• Is 58, with 3 ex-wives, 4 kids, 2 grandsons and a Puerto Rican girlfriend who is addicted to crack (this one might be true)
• Is a chess master in Tompkins Square Park
• Kicked the wall down in Dresden; a Reagan man

Other notable moments:

• Having “Bullshersy” yelled in my face when I disagree with his claim that he’s from Woodstock
• Blowing his whistle for us— spitting all over Kelly’s face in the process
• Homeless guy tries to steal the camera while Kelly is using it, a very ballsy move
• We realize we are at our stop and leave while he is still talking

I hate you Joe Rogan, but God dammit do I respect you for humiliating and discrediting Carlos Mencia as a comic— and even as a Mexican. Not only does his show break up a good lineup on Comedy Central with his stupid jokes about Mexican stereotypes, but he steals those same jokes that I don’t like. As if that wasn’t enough reason to hate him, he has the audacity to do this with a name like Ned. The lamest white guy name ever. I really hope I don’t have to see you or hear your annoying voice again.

Go home. I guarantee it’s easier to get out of here than you say it was to get in.

** The NFL has pulled all videos of this game from YouTube claiming copyright infringement. That’s right, the game they couldn’t get anyone to watch to begin with. As a result, I have replaced the defunct video with what I consider to be a more than adequate and equally suspenseful Techmo Super Bowl dramatization **

Brian Moorman, the Bills perennial Pro Bowl punter, got jacked up by Redskins free safety and all-around class act Sean Taylor during a fake punt attempt in last weekends Pro Bowl game. Apparently Taylor missed the memo that this was an exhibition game. The fake punt call, made by none other than AFC coach Bill Belichik, was the obvious call to make on a fourth and long, when you’re up by 7 late in the 3rd quarter of a game devoid of any regular season implications. I can only hope that this call inspires future Pro Bowl coaches to ask specialty players to go above and beyond their typical role for the sake of the team. I personally think that Tom Brady going over the middle on Brian Urlacher would be the perfect trick play call in next years scrimmage.

Belichik was later heard saying that he had seen retired linebacker Ted Johnson (who, incidentally, has 75lbs on Moorman) take harder hits. Big Bill’s comments come in the wake of Johnson’s recent public announcement that he now suffers from brain damage. An injury resulting from the string of concussions he suffered while playing under Belichik in New England. Thanks coach.