Lebron James is in some trouble today after the NBA star left the court on Saturday night without shaking hands. The Cavs — that’s Lebron’s team, ladies — lost a series to the Orlando Magic, and a frustrated Lebron marched off the court and into the locker room without acknowledging anyone on the Magic.

Big fucking deal. You should shake hands with your opponent after a game, but Lebron didn’t. It’s not the end of the world. He was obviously upset because he’s the best player in the league and yet can’t win the title because the rest of his team sucks. Isn’t a person allowed to get frustrated and make a mistake once in awhile? I mean, it can be pretty annoying when you’re giving an all-star level effort and your colleagues are holding you back. Trust me, I know. I used to work for a search engine optimization company, and I was the best damn SEO in the entire Northeast. But my colleagues were in charge of programming meta tags, which is a crucial part of SEO, and they just couldn’t get it right. They’d go after competitive keywords when it was clearly a better strategy to attack long tail search results. I’d tell them every day, “listen fuckers, we’re not going to win the car rental competition against the big boys like Hertz, let’s go after multi-word searches that include the names of smaller and less competitive suburbs.” But they just had to showboat. Here I was giving a Lebron-caliber effort, and I’m stuck playing with a bunch of Zadrunas Ilgauskases. It was extremely frustrating. So one day I went up to my co-worker while he was having a smoke — his name was also Zadrunas Ilgauskas, ironically — and I took the cigarette, jammed it into his eyeball, and screamed, “LET’S SEE YOU PROGRAM YOUR SHITTY META TAGS WHEN YOU’RE BLIND, ASSHOLE!!!!” Then I kicked him in the balls, poured gasoline on him and set him on fire. When he finally got out of the hospital, I cut the brakes to his wheelchair and pushed him down a hill, just to make sure there was no misunderstanding my message. People thought that was harsh, but hey, I’m just extremely devoted when it comes to search engine optimization.

Eventually I was forced to take a better job in New York.

I’ve always said there are a couple of ways to make great lyrics. You can take a deep, philosophical, metaphorical or poetic approach (like Eddie Vedder or “The Times They Are A-Changin’” Bob Dylan), or you can take a simple, direct, raw, honest or heartfelt approach (like Social Distortion or “Hurricane” Bob Dylan). These are the types of lyrics I appreciate the most.

But there’s also a third way to write lyrics that will win their way into my heart. And that is to write absolutely absurd, ridiculous or downright stupid lyrics that make me laugh my ass off. Here are my five favorite examples of said method…

5- “Yes I know all about that other guy
The handsome man with athletic thighs”
-Everclear, “I Will Buy You a New Life”

We’ll start with this line, from the worst song off one of the most underrated albums of the 90s. It’s the randomness of this lyric that really gets me. I would call it kinda gay, but I’m not sure gay guys even care about other men’s thighs. It’s just weird and creepy. In this song, Art Alexakis also tells a girl, “I will buy you a garden.” I guess you can buy seeds and a watering can and whatnot, but can you really buy a garden? Can anyone really own the land? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear, does it make a noise? At what point does a song lyric go from “really creepy” to “hilarious?” So many questions.

4- “Love is in the water
Love is in the air
Show me where to go
And tell me will love be there?”
-Collective Soul, “Shine”

Collective Soul is the most played band of the 90s, so I’ll cut them some slack, but I have to wonder if Ed Roland realizes the contradiction in this lyric. If love is in the water and the air, and you’re wondering where to go in order to find love, well, umm… I’m gonna go out on a limb and suggest you try checking the water and the air.

3- “Only time will tell if we stand the test of time”
-Van Halen, “Why Can’t This Be Love?”

Alright. Those first two lyrics are good, but these next 3 result in flat-out laughter any time I hear them. As a bassist, guitarist or drummer, at what point are you obligated to stop band practice and ask, “Hey Sammy, you realize that lyric is incredibly redundant, right?” I feel like Michael Anthony or one of the Van Halens should have stepped up. This is like saying, “only my grades will determine how well I did on the test” or “only the open/closed sign on the CVS door will tell if CVS is opened or closed.”

2- “Ain’t I tough enough?
Oooohhhhhh
Ain’t I rough enough?
Oooohhhhhh”
-Rolling Stones, “Beast of Burden”

This one isn’t so much the actual words as the way Mick Jagger says them. He utters the phrase, “Ain’t I tough enough, oooohhhhh?” with the conviction of a 13-year old girl who just burned herself with a curling iron. “Beast of Burden” might go down as the funniest song in the history of mankind, as it also features Jagger singing “pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty,” which I’m almost positive is the inspiration for Larry David saying “pretty pretty good” in every episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Mick Jagger gets the award for funniest singer ever for a number of reasons, mainly the spoken-word breakdown of “Emotional Rescue.”*

1- “I’ve seen a million faces, and I’ve rocked them all!”
-Bon Jovi, “Dead or Alive”

This is hands down my favorite single line in any song ever. If this song comes on the radio while I’m in my car, I have to focus all my energy into not driving off the road. It’s that hilarious. Whenever I tell someone I’m a writer, and they ask what exactly I write, I try to use this phrase (“I’ve written a million stories, and I’ve rocked them all!”). Either that or I say that I’m working on a novel called Chinese Democracy that should be finished by 2037. No one ever gets either of those jokes, but rest assured that I am thoroughly entertained.

[*Note: I did not include any spoken-word breakdowns in this list, as that is an entirely different class of humor altogether. Nothing on this list can hold a candle to Fergie’s love bug verse of “Clumsy,” the final 2 minutes of Boyz II Men’s “End of the Road” or the chick from En Vogue screaming “AND I’M OUT THE DOOOOOR!!!!”]

[Note 2:  I know some of these references are seriously outdated.  That's because I wrote this like a year ago and just randomly found it in a folder on my computer.  Like finding a $20 in a jacket you haven't worn in a long time.  Except the jacket is a website, and the $20 is worthless.]

Kris Allen is the new American Idol. Adam Lambert finished as this season’s runner up.

Now, I don’t give a fuck who wins “American Idol,” but know this:

Adam Lambert is the best male singer in the history of the show.

Kris Allen, if the guy from The Fray died, could maybe make the final 10 of guys to replace him.

Maybe.

Once again, I could care less who wins “American Idol.” Both of these guys will get to release albums, so I’m not concerned for them either.

What concerns me is this:

The method we use to choose our American Idols, is the exact same method we use to choose our Presidents.

I know that commentary about “The Hills” is outdated, but bear with me anyway.

I constantly see stories on TV, blogs, and even traditional journalistic outlets running stories about the girls of “The Hills.” Heidi, Audrina, What’s Her Name, That Other Chick… they all get significant media coverage. I’ve never seen “The Hills” — and I’m too old to care so I would admit if I did — but I’m pretty sure it hasn’t aired in a couple years. And yet here are those chicks, still all over the place.

What’s driving this coverage? Pure hatred, of course. America’s desire to murder reality stars and watch the streets run red with the blood of the non-talented is rivaled only by the Neilsen ratings of the trashy programming we secretly and hypocritically love. Reality stars are like tampons; we can’t get by without them, yet as soon as we’re done with them we want to immediately throw them in the trash. I know this, cause I use a lot of tampons and I watch a lot of reality TV. And “The Hills” was the heavy-flow day of reality shows; it’s not enough to just throw it in the trash, we need to double-bag it and drop it off in the dumpster behind Denny’s.

Here’s what I don’t get. Because our culture is driven by a hypocritical hatred of reality stars, everyone has to pretend like the girls of “The Hills” are ugly when clearly they are not. Some are better than others, and none are Megan Fox, but when it comes down to it, they’re all pretty attractive. Can untalented girls not be hot? That is what’s so interesting to me about “The Hills” (and most reality TV). These girls became famous for doing “nothing” and so everyone on the Internet refuses to admit they’re good looking. Like their pseudo-fame changes their looks in any way. You would think with the anonymity of the Internet that guys would be more willing to admit they’ll have sex with Heidi or Audrina, but it’s the opposite; it’s like you have to prove something by saying you wouldn’t touch them. Meanwhile you’d be hard pressed to find a guy that would ever turn these girls down in the real world. When I see a guy comment on the Internet saying that Heidi or Audrina is ugly, all I can think is, “congratulations, you’re really a man of principle. And that principle is, you’re gay.”

I always tell people that I’ve learned more on the street than I’ve ever learned in a classroom. Everyone assumes that I’m joking, that I’m trying to be funny by insinuating my upbringing was more akin to that of an impoverished and troubled youth from the ghetto than to the stereotypical life of someone in a lilywhite suburb like the one from whence I came.

But here’s what people don’t understand: I’m not joking. That’s because when I say I learned more on the street than in the classroom, I mean that sentence absolutely literally.

The other day, I was walking down the street when I saw a few Snapple caps lying there, on the edge of the road. I picked them up, and much to my surprise, the underside of those caps taught me interesting tidbits such as the amount of time a human sleeps in an average lifetime or how many times a hummingbird can flap its wings in a minute. I guess Snapple has done this for a while now, but I’m not much of a Snapple drinker so I thought that shit was crazy. None of my teachers ever taught me how fast a hummingbird can flap its wings.

See what I mean? I have learned more while literally on a street than I’ve learned at school. To be fair, I’m including roads, alleys, byways, turnpikes and most other paved surfaces under my umbrella definition of “street.” I’ve learned a thing or two on an avenue, and I’ve had my mind blown on a parkway. Hell, I’ve even learned stuff in parking lots.

One time I was walking down a street and cool-looking car flew right by me. I was with a friend who likes cars, and he told me it was the new Maserati. I never knew what the new Maserati looked like, because that’s the kind of thing you don’t learn in school. I also learned that the Maserati’s acceleration is phenomenal, when the driver had to stop at a stop sign a block later. I also realized Maserati drivers are dicks when the guy drove into a puddle and got water all over my khakis. You get the idea though. I didn’t even know there was a new Maserati, because my teachers spent months dissecting the Battle of Gettysburg and never once taught me a thing about cars. I drive a car every single day, I’ve spent thousands of dollars on car maintenance, and most of the people I see on the highway don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, yet no school ever gives a class on the basics of car ownership. What the hell?

Another time I was taking a piss in this empty street behind a bar, and I accidentally stepped on a used condom. It was gross. That’s when I learned the value of holding it and waiting in line. I never thought it was important to use actual bathrooms because health education in the public school systems focuses on unimportant stuff like the circulatory system. And since schools shy away from sex ed., I had no idea people liked to fuck in alleys behind bars. But hey, at least I knew how to properly clean a sneaker, right? Guess again, my friends. Once again I had to learn that on the street… my street… where my mom threw my disgusting sneakers after I wore them in the house.

My teacher always used to say that drunk driving ruins lives. But recently I drove by a billboard on the highway that said you don’t have to suffer just because you’ve been arrested for drunk driving. I didn’t know that before. And it had a picture of a shady-looking lawyer along with his email and phone number, so I learned his contact info as well. Also, I was pretty wasted at the time, so I learned that sometimes you can drive drunk with no consequences whatsoever. WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME MRS. BROWN?!?!?!

I learned teamwork while playing basketball on cement courts. I learned discipline while running ten miles in the rain through the roads of my hometown. I learned about racial harmony while playing a dice game with a bunch of black and Latino kids in someone’s driveway. I learned about class differences when those same black and Latino kids won all my money and then asked me to give them a ride to the dollar store so they could use it to purchase food for their family, which I happily did on my way to buy $100 ripped jeans at Abercrombie. I even learned the secret to eternal happiness while standing on a sidewalk. That one was pure coincidence; I happened to meet a really insightful guy at last year’s St. Patrick’s Day parade.

I learned all of that stuff in one place. It’s the same place I learned common sense, or how to interact with others, or how to act in the presence of an authority figure, or how to compose an email or treat a woman or do any of the other things that play a drastic role in my everyday life. I didn’t learn them in school, that’s for sure. I learned them in a street. The street.

So when I say that I learned more on the street than I did in the classroom, you better believe I’m telling the truth. Of course I learned way more from TV than I did from either of those other places.

*****

My sources of wisdom rank something like this:

1) TV
2) Jobs, internships and other real-life work situations
3) Social settings
4) Jeopardy
5) The Street
6) Kevin, my friend who plays lots of Trivial Pursuit and knows tons of random facts
7) Snapple caps
The Classroom

The list goes downhill from there. The Internet is last because it ruins my brain and actually takes information away. So it should be noted that the Classroom does rank ahead of the Internet. In fact I really should get off this thing. I need to get outside, get some fresh air, and learn stuff. Later.

Earlier this week, a 22-year old pre-med student at Boston University was charged with armed robbery, kidnapping, and most notably, the murder of a 26-year old New York City model. The student is now believed to be the infamous “Craigslist Killer,” the deranged lunatic that lured in vulnerable females through the online classifieds site Craigslist.org. The Craigslist Killer allegedly met several women online, eventually robbing and/or murdering them. He will certainly be tried in a high-profile case; one followed closely by media and the general public alike. The case of the Craigslist Killer not only reinforces the inherent dangers of meeting people online, but it almost certainly cause our leaders to re-examine issues of online privacy and security, possibly leading to massive changes in the way we are allowed to surf the web.

It also raises another important issue: How come no one told me you could meet chicks on Craigslist? I’ve been using that site to job hunt for over 6 years now, 8 if you count internships. I’ve gotten furniture off there, I even used it to find freelance help at one of my old jobs. You know how easy it would have been to surf over to the tab where the chicks were? Like 3 extra clicks. That’s nothing. Every day I job hunted I could’ve thrown out one email, and even with a 10% response rate that would’ve been huge. I always knew they were people trying to meet up on Craigslist, but I just assumed they were all sketchy dudes who wanted to find that girl from the subway, or ugly chicks. But I saw a picture of that dead chick from the paragraph above, and she was pretty hot. Well of course she was hot. I already said she was a model. What the fuck, man. How come no one told me? This is like when I was in high school and one of the art teachers got arrested for making fake ID’s for the students, and I didn’t find out until police were dragging her out of the building in handcuffs. I could’ve been going to Suds Factory when I was 17, and I could’ve been landing tons of tail on Craigslist. Come on, these chicks will date murders. You know how good I would’ve looked in comparison? Like a non-murdering Brad Pitt, that’s how good. Yet no one mentions anything about it until it’s too late. You think models are going out with dudes on Craigslist now? No chance. Fucking murdering cockblock. I only wish someone had let me know sooner. But no one said a word. God, some people are so inconsiderate.

You’re not a pirate if you don’t wear an eyepatch. You’re not a pirate without a parrot, or at least some sort of exotic bird on your shoulder. And you’re certainly not a pirate if you carry an AK-47. If you’re just some 16-year old Somalian kid with a semi-automatic handgun, that makes you a thug. Not a pirate.

I know some people like to think that hijacking boats automatically qualifies you as a pirate, but I’m sorry, that’s simply not the case. I hate to sound old-fashioned, but I remember when being a pirate used to mean something. It was about having a merry old time with a bunch of oddly dressed pirate cohorts, singing drunken songs about the sea until an ocean liner came along and gave you the chance to steal a pirate’s booty and make a captain walk the plank. You used to engage in sword-to-sword duels over sunken treasure. You used to fight off scurvy in order to bang disgusting wenches and get syphilis. You used to care. You didn’t just waltz up to a barge with an AK-47 and shoot the joint up. That was the lazy man’s way out. Real pirates used to take pride in their job.

Carrying an AK-47 in a motorboat doesn’t make you a pirate. It makes you a car-jacker. Only there are no cars in Somalia so you’re a car-jacker of boats. Is that what you want to do with your life? Is this what you want to be? Huh?? IS IT??? Oh you can call yourself a pirate all you want, but if you don’t wield a sword in your hand and a parrot on your shoulder with a funny hat on your head, you’re really nothing more than a thug in a crappy boat with an AK. Remember that.

There was a time when people used to conduct their careers with passion, and strive for excellence at all times, regardless of their occupation. It didn’t matter if you were the captain, the janitor, the mid-level pirate accountant, or the lowest wench on the totem pole. You tried. Now everyone looks for the easy way out, showing up late, checking out early, doing the bare minimum and brandishing an AK-47 for a job that requires the finesse of a curved sword and a silly hat. People used to take pride in their jobs. Now they don’t. Not even the pirates. And you know what, it’s sad.

The 4 of you that visit this website have probably wondered what I’ve been doing for the past few months, in lieu of updating the site.

Let me tell you, it’s been a long and arduous journey, with lots of life-altering changes.

For starters, I moved. I left my old place on the coastline of Connecticut and moved to a brand-new city. It’s been a drastic change that took a lot of getting used to. For instance, my new city has black people. It’s crazy, man. I also got a brand-new job, after the music website I used to work for went under and became a site that sells ringtone subscriptions. Along with my new job in my new city, I’ve had to make a lot of new friends, which means I’ve spent a lot of time going to new bars and drinking new beers and passing out in new alleyways. I went on a bunch of dates with a bunch of girls who had a bunch of reasons for never wanting to get together again after they found out I was unemployed. I also did some traveling, explored America, found myself, found Jesus Christ, rediscovered my core values, recommitted myself to my new job, lost Jesus Christ (I think I dropped him somewhere in New Jersey… not sure), and most importantly, realized what is truly important to me.

One of those things is writing. Even if I’m not getting paid for it anymore, even if it takes up the miniscule amount of free time I currently have, even if hardly anyone reads it. I was sick of it for a while but now I’m not.

So yeah. I’m back, baby. And I’m going to try to update the site somewhat frequently, at or least more than my current streak of once a quarter. My updates will probably be much shorter and less funny, but rest assured they’ll have the same cutting social commentary and super-homoerotic undertones as they used to. I’ve also got some surprises in store — don’t get excited, they’re going to suck — and hopefully my work ethic as it pertains to this site will improve. You can sign up for email alerts in the right sidebar of the site if you want to be notified of updates. I’ll have a new post tomorrow then hopefully many more to come. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I can’t predict the future happy hour specials.

-Flying cars and hoverboards would exist
-We’d be on the verge of a breakthrough in the field of teleportation
-The government would stop crime using a preemptive “Minority Report”-style mind reading computer
-The Buffalo Bills would win a Super Bowl
-College football would switch to a playoff system, realize it sucks, and switch back
-Mainstream movies and television shows would be nothing more than a series of random bells and whistles and flashing neon lights
-Scientists would invent a Teflon coating system for teeth and render dentistry useless
-I would be married and have a child
-That child would have graduated high school
-My hair would be completely gray and I’d be using terms like “whippersnappers” and “kids these days” in casual conversations
-Axl Rose would be either dead or in a nursing home
-Slash would do something without his top hat, just once
-5,000 more versions of the songs on Chinese Democracy would be leaked online
-I would make it through an entire game of women’s basketball
-Britney Spears would be dead for a long long time
-We’d elect a black president
-We’d elect a female president
-We’d elect a Mexican president
-We’d elect an alien from another galaxy president
-The US would no longer be the most powerful nation in the world
-Africa would be a mecca plated in solid gold
-There would have been at least one nuclear war
-Computers would have passed humans in the next stage of evolution
-China would actually become a democracy

I’m joking about the Mexican president of course but otherwise I’m dead serious about that list.  My tentative estimate was that this album would be released in 2037, and only that soon because Axl Rose died and his drug-addicted widow wanted to cash in to get money for smack.  Thankfully, I was wrong.  Chinese Democracy is finished, it has been released to Best Buy, I’m looking at a physical copy of the album right now and I have finally — just now — decided to acknowledge its existence.  And that’s fucking awesome.  It’s too early to judge the music but the fact that it even exists is amazing.  I have been making jokes about this CD for about 12 years now, saying that it would be out in 50 years, joking about how it would be banned in China, and wondering if an 85 year old gray haired Axl would go on a promotional tour and do the Axl head-bob while swaying back and forth on his walker.  Now there’s nothing left to say, because this album, the most hyped thing ever, that was legendary before anyone heard it, that I never thought I would see in my lifetime, finally exists.  It’s here.  And we have a black president, and an undefeated team lost in the Super Bowl, and my friend Chima who is maybe the worst at getting girls on the entire planet has a new girlfriend and he’s going to her house for Thanksgiving.  There’s something happening in 2008.

-John McCain will become the 44th President of the United States, winning the 2nd closest election in history.

-There will be an unprecedented amount of voter fraud complaints, including at least one major controversy in a swing state.  However, evidence will be sketchy and no ramifications will ever result.

-Obama supporters will stage a march on Washington, the likes of which will resemble something from the Vietnam era.  Bottled waters at the march will cost $5; a Snapple will run you $7.  It won’t accomplish anything but it will be a great way for hippies to get laid.

-Regardless of who wins, the number of articles written about this election will be greater than the number of articles ever written about anything, with the exception of Britney Spears’ vagina.  At least 3 articles in major newspapers will compare the U.S. to the Roman Empire.

-John McCain will not die in office.  He will have one close call, but it won’t be related to his age or health issues.  He’ll choke on a hot dog or get his arms caught in a ceiling fan or something like that.

-McCain will do an OK job in the White House.  Not great, but OK.  He will be to the White House what Brian Griese is to the NFL.  His nickname will change from “The Maverick” to “The Game Manager.”

-Sarah Palin will never be President.  Within 6 years, Palin will be out of politics and hosting a daytime talk show opposite Rachel Ray.

-This election will ultimately do very little for racial equality, but it will prove to be a huge step forward for mediocre looking white chicks.

-When the winning electoral votes come in, and the new President is finally revealed, it will be the most text-messaged-about moment in history.  There will be 1 billion text message containing the word “obama” sent on Tuesday.

-This election will be the OJ moment of the decade.  Everyone will remember where they were when the final announcement was made.

-The 2008 election will set the record for “most people getting drunk during an election.”  At least 12 people will die.  It will go down in history as the greatest party day in political history.

-This week “election” will be the most Googled term in history, not counting porn stuff.  Counting porn stuff it will be 14,000th.

-Obama will inspire a record voter turnout from the African-American community.  Over 7% of African-Americans will vote.

-P. Diddy’s “Vote or Die” campaign will become reality this week when an overzealous liberal kills another person for not voting.

-Regardless of who wins, 100 years from now everyone will know of Barack Obama and 28% of people will know of John McCain.  If Obama loses, there will eventually be a movie about him, the moral of which is blatantly ripped off from the movie “Tin Cup.”

-Barack Obama will accomplish something great, but not in the White House.  Like Al Gore or John Edwards, he’ll be more productive as a social figure, outside of politics.  He’ll eventually become a Bono-esque figure.  He might cure AIDS.

-Over the next four years, 5 more states will approve a law that allows gay marriage.  One of them will then repeal that law.  The President will just kinda shrug.  In 40 years the country will look back on gay rights in this decade the way we look back at womens’ and blacks’ rights from the early 1900s.  “Yeah, sorry about that.”  Gays will demand reparations but will settle for free daiquiris at the Boston Pride parade.

-Anger over the results of this election will result in the formation of the Don’t Vote Party, a movement which actively tries to ruin the voting process, kinda like that Vote For The Worst campaign against “American Idol.”  The Don’t Vote Party’s 2012 candidate, Kevin Federline, will get 4% of the vote.

-The division in this country will continue to get worse and worse.  Sometime in the next 50 years, the South will try to secede from the nation again.  Except instead of the Gettysburg Address, this time the North will release a statement saying, “later bros.”

-Next Sunday night, when the New York Giants play the Philadelphia Eagles on “Sunday Night Football,” John Madden will utter the following phrase:

“You see, the thing about the election is, the guy who wins the election, is supposed to win.”

People will laugh, but over time it will prove to be the smartest thing anyone ever said about the 2008 Election.