Not to get all religious on you guys again, but if you crack open your King James to the book of Matthew chapter 6 verse 7, it reads: "But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen [do]: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking." Basically in this passage God is telling us, not to be all chanty and repetitive when you ask for something because sometimes, less is more...On this day, January 31st of 2011, the vanity of thy prayers hath been forgiven! Hallelujah brothers and sisters! It's amazing how you can pray day and night to the football gods (ha ha yeah, it's a sports take), and your prayers are generally unacknowledged. I'm going to go ahead and assume that God is a pretty busy cat, and that a bunch of grown men making millions of dollars to play a game doesn't top his to do list. On top of that, I see T-shirts everywhere all the time that say God is a Patriots fan to begin with, so this principle especially applies to the Bengals, a team the Lord has long forgotten about. He made his way down His list today and threw us a bone! I think it's pretty clear by now that if baby Jesus didn't have a hand in this, then someone pretty important must have read my "State of the Bengals Address" last week right here on TroxTalk! You're welcome. In case you have no clue what I'm referring to, Cincinnati Bengals offensive coordinator, Bob Bratkowski was fired today. It took a lot of faith and asking on our part..but the Brat is finally out.
Da Brat, on the other hand, has been out since May 27th 2010. zing.
My sources at ESPN tell me that Bob is a huge doucher who resembles a more surly version of Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce from the hit TV series M*A*S*H*
Alan Alda is an atheist. He prays to no one. Vainly or otherwise.
As the fortunes of a Cincinnati sports fan have seemed to go of late, it wouldn't surprise me at all if they somehow managed to bring in someone even worse to replace Bratkowski, but at least we'll have a reason to keep us all from running out and getting L.A. Galaxy jerseys for at least the next couple of months. Just in case we end up with Brad Childress, I'll ahead and let you know that David Beckham is #23 and his wife was a spice girl.. There, now you have the L.A.Galaxy fan knowledge equivalent of the average Bengal fan at PBS for a home game. You'll fit right in!
Side note: I was at the Bengals playoff game when they lost to the Jets last year. There was a "fan" in front of us about 20 rows up on the 50 yard line wearing a misprinted Kinta jersey with the gall to tell us we were being too loud! Too loud? It's 3rd and 11, and we are on DEFENSE! We're the 12th man!! TOO LOUD?! Kill yourself. To this day I wonder if that game would have turned out the same if that assclown would have cheered for his team just a little. Or if he even knows that crowd noise can effect the opposing quarterbacks cadence..Or if he even knows what cadence is..
Not Chilly Chilly
Ever since I was a child, I have never been able to fully wrap my head around this song...What's it about? How can such universal jubilation be achieved in a community? I just never got it...Today, I believe I am starting to understand exactly where these guys are coming from.....
This is the first thing the Bengals have done so far this offseason to give me a reason to keep believing.. Hopefully, Carson Palmer and Cedric Benson will reconsider wanting to high-tail it out of town now that their nemesis has been slain. Now all the Bengals have to do to have a winning season next year is EVERYTHING ELSE! I will keep my hands folded, my eyes closed, and my heart open. And hey, even if the Bengals don't improve because of this, at least Trox Talk will get a few more hits from all the Westboro Baptist kooks googlin' Bible verses later. WHO DEY!! Next time: SuperBowl and HateCrow.
Good day, Troxaholics! Recently I had an exciting opportunity to be a special guest on a well known Cincinnati area podcast, fittingly titled The Best Podcast. I was invited to take part in a wild Power Hour edition where we were all going to take a shot of beer every minute for an hour while still trying to maintain a topical and interesting show. It was the most fun I've had behind the mic in quite some time. The hosts, Dave and Phinny, couldn't have been cooler, and I think the whole thing turned out even better than any of us could have ever expected. If you haven't heard the show yet, or you'd like to check out the episode I helped out on, you need to go to www.thebestcast.com straight away. If you like it, you should follow them on iTunes (I am now). You won't be disappointed.
So that was the plug, now lets get into some TroxTalk. Thanks again to everyone for the feedback on the Oprah post. Whether you agreed with my take or not, most people seemed to have a good time with the read, so I feel like I did my job. This next one is more for the fellas. So, back to this podcasting adventure. My favorite segment we did during the show was their weekly Top 5 segment. I feel like scores of entertainers from every media outlet attempt to pull off their own version of a countdown segment, and Letterman is clearly the best far and away. That said, The Best Podcast is an easy runner-up. As you will hear, if you've followed any of my instructions, during this weeks Top 5 the topic of discussion was "What are the 5 most manly drinks a person can imbibe?" We came up with a great list of worthy beverages, but I wanted to use this post to describe in a bit more detail, why I felt like each one was selected, and who makes these drinks the manliest...errr...most manly?...manlierestest.
#5 Bombay Sapphire
While the other drinks on the list are straight up "man's game". Sapphire is more of a gentleman's game, but it's still pretty studly. It's a little on the pricey side, and it comes in a sissy looking glass depending on how you take it. Neverless, Sapphire is a status symbol. No one ever says, "Check out that homeless dude with the Bombay and tonic." And it tastes amazing! It is a classy pick designed for a businessman out to lunch, or a mogul sitting in the back of a limo surrounded by beautiful scantily clad skanks..but you know..classy skanks. Tommy the truck driver doesn't drink it, but the CEO of his company, Murray Moneybags, surely does. Who else will you catch with a Sapphire?: George Clooney, anyone at the opening of an art gallery, Scrooge McDuck, The entire cast of Swingers, and my personal hero, Mr. Bombay Sapphire himself, Jim Rome.
#4 Dirty Tequila
No list of the manliest drinks would be complete without a shot of nasty, stinking, filthy tequila. If you are one of these people saying "But, Trox, I like the taste of Tequila" then enjoy your unmanly Patrón. I am talking about the bottle on the bottom shelf with that gross little creature bathing in it's own excrement at the bottom. If the bartender doesn't have to dust off your tequila selection, then it's just not manly enough for this countdown. You don't put salt on your hand and bite a lime because you enjoy it. You do it because you have to. Who would possibly drink something like this? I'll tell you: Dennis Rodman, Scarface (the rapper or the Pacino), Charlie Manson, the work crew in front of Home Depot, train robbers on horseback, Jaoquin Pheonix, the sheriffs who stop train robbers on horseback, Nick Nolte, and Chilean coalminers.
#3 The Irish Car Bomb
The Irish Car Bomb is a rockstar drink. (Not to be confused with a Rockstar Energy Drink) I mean it is a shot for rockstars. A Car Bomb is accomplished by combining a mixed shot of Jameson Irish Whiskey and Baileys Irish Cream with a delicious glass of Guiness Irish Draught. The name should be starting to make sense by now. Anyway, you say something witty because the Irish are always good for a toast or song, (Ex: "May the Gods keep the wolves in the hills and the women in our beds!"...yes, I know it's from Troy.) and then you drop the shot into the glass of beer and pound it as fast as humanly possible. This drink is manly for a few reasons. First of all, it involves whiskey, and chugging beer. Both activities are time honored manly traditions. Also, it typically begins and ends with loud noises, chants, or grunts. Such is the fate of man. (Too poetic?) Lastly, 9 times out of 10 it ends it a huge manly satisfying belch. Probable Car Bomb Drinkers: Slash, Captain Caveman, any sad bastard ginger at a bar in Ireland at 9am, Trox, and Lemmy from Motorhead.
#2 Budweiser aka Bud
Diesel
What do you think of when you hear the name Budweiser? Football, bikinis, big scary horses, inappropriate advertising, or maybe just a construction worker coming home and b-lining for the fridge after a hard days work. What could possibly be more manly than any of those things? Budweiser is thick, but not snobby. The commercials make you laugh, but it is no joke. That's why it checks in at #2. This buds for you: President Barak Obama (Not kidding. It's his favorite. Look it up!), Nascar fans, frogs, oil covered mechanics, clydesdale enthusiast, and Sam Elliot.
#1 Whiskey Neat
Whiskey neat is manliest of the manly drink orders, and the reasons should go without saying...I'll say them because more TroxTalk is always better. A clean rocks glass full of Jack, Jim, or Makers with no ice. Doesn't that sound neat? Whiskey is aged in barrels and savored by the manliest of men. Basically the highest caliber of each of the aforementioned four drinkers on this list would be the only ones capable of pulling off a whiskey neat. It requires swagger, grit, wisdom, and balls to order a whiskey neat and finish it. If Budweiser gets you through a tough day, whiskey neat will get you through a divorce. If you drink a Sapphire during a business meeting to loosen up, whiskey neat will turn you into Gordon Gekko. And if you party hard on car bombs and tequila shots, whiskey neat will make you a golden God. Need proof? Here's who you'll catch with a neat whiskey: Ghandi, Scott Baio, Jack Bauer, The Wu Tang Clan (all of em), Martin Sheen, Chuck Norris, Bill Clinton, The Dalai Lama, and Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock.
There's your Top 5 Tour de Manly recap. (Feel free to post your Top 5 manly, womanly, or favorite drinks in the comments if you think we left something out.) After the Power Hour Podcast we came up with the brilliant challenge of an actual physical Tour de Manly. The four of us, Dave, Phinny, DJ Chaney, and myself, went on a little pub crawl and ordered one of the Top 5 at each establishment. We ended the evening with a glass of whiskey neat, and I BARELY made it out alive. We lost some great men that night...but that story will have to wait for another episode because I'm going a little long here. Remember you can follow me on Twitter @troxtalk to catch the latest postings or sign up using you Gmail account to follow TroxTalk on this site and receive email updates (not spam! it basically just tells you when we put something new up.) Thanks again for stopping by. Next time we're going to get back into some sports with my Super Bowl preview and I'm going to introduce you to a little guy I like to call the Hate Crow....
PREFACE: I am, by no stretch of anyone's imagination, an aficionado in the world of cosmetics, hygiene (in fact I'm smelling pretty rank even as I am typing this), or skin creams. As someone who rocks Irish Spring original scent body wash with an AXE detailer, I do generally possess all of the freshness of Ireland, but that may not necessarily afford me the credibility required to tackle subject matter such as this. With that said, here I go...
If I try really hard, I bet I can remember the exact moment when I decided that Oprah Winfrey was a miserable human being....Ahhh yes...I stopped by my Gram's house once while she was watching the Oprah Show and there was a story about an unfortunate woman named Charla Nash who was left blind and horribly disfigured after being attacked by a friends pet chimpanzee. The chimp weighed close to 200lbs and it basically beat the tar out of her and tried to eat her face. Oprah brought the woman on the show with a bee keepers mask over her face and basically made a complete circus sideshow out of her entire situation. Then she hit Nash with a barrage of heartless self serving questions "How does it feel to know that you frighten people with your face?" "Do you worry that no one will be able to love you?" Stuff like that...The questions were obviously designed to boost ratings for 45 minutes and get everyone on the edge of their seats just before the final segments grand finale where Oprah convinced the woman to remove her veil if she "felt comfortable". I don't expect Charla to lock herself away in a cave forever, but seeing as how she hadn't allowed anyone to see her uncovered besides doctors and nurses since her accident, I'm going to go ahead and assume she was most likely anything but comfortable. Scroll down if you would like to skip it, but the following photo is not for the faint of heart.
Oprah is a bajillionaire. She has more money than God, but she still needs her an entire TV network to spread her sickness and get even richer. On top of that, she still needs the network to be called OWN, so that all of her loyal subjects never forget their place. She has surgeons to keep her skinny and almost attractive enough to be on TV. Then she tells people that they are fine just the way they are. She has a sex slave who lives in her back yard who she refuses to marry because it might cost her a portion of her fortune, yet she tries to make other people feel like their marriages are inadequate because they can't always agree on which restaurant to dine in. She probably has more fans than she'll ever know or care about, and countless people who look to her for inspiration. I know it can be comforting, but a lot of what she's putting out in the world seems so utterly contrived that I can't help but think that she really is just another big business tycoon looking for a buck. I get that people are obsessed with her books, her shows, and her ideas for their own reasons. No one can force someone to dig Oprah, but I hate this reverence that she commands. It's like she can do know wrong. I am even well aware of her charitable contributions, and her 'favorite things' episode where she gives a bunch of cool stuff away to her audience. Even these things, as I see them, have some underlying alterior motive now that I have seen the monkey attack episode. Maybe Oprah gives so that others will see her giving and buy more books? Maybe her 'favorite things' episodes should be called "Nanny-nanny-boo-boo! You-middle-class-homemakers-and-your-fat-husbands-can't-afford-this!" episodes. This one interview pretty much ruined any and all appreciation I may have had for the big O. I just can't get past how this Charla Nash must have felt during this extremely difficult interview. The cruel way Ope handled it wrecked my image of her. Just one guy's opinion. Do with it what you will.
I recently learned that Oprah Winfrey is slanging some pretty next-level age reducing skincare products to her hordes of middle aged she-demon fans. While it comes as no surprise to this fledgling blogger or any of my minions that the big "O" would stamp her name on a product, pray on the insecurities of her viewers, and charge an exorbitant amount of scrilla to be one of the beautiful people, the ingredients may come as a surprise to some..Wait for it...wait for it....FORESKIN! Just in case you skipped 6th grade health class...
foreskinfore·skin(fôr'skĭn')n. In male human anatomy, the foreskin is a generally retractable double-layered fold of skin and mucous membrane that covers the glans penis and protects the urinary meatus when the penis is not erect
Apparently this stuff has been out for a couple of years, but I only heard of it for the first time a few days ago. I thought it was just some cockamamie (pun intended) urban legend, so, as a man who brings answers to the people, I decided to dig a bit deeper. SkinMedica International is an aesthetic skincare and anti-aging company developed by a dermatologist name Dr. Richard Fitzpatrick. Through decades of research they were able to determine that fibroblast cells found in the nether regions of newborn baby boys could produce a nutrient rich tissue recovery lotion...What kind of research you ask? I have no idea, and apparently neither does anyone else because in my "research" I didn't come up with anything about how this brilliant topical substance of the future exactly came to fruition. I would imagine it was brought to light by the same geniuses who discovered that you could drink the water you spit out at the dentist in order to improve eyesight. Or that you could place the discarded testicles from a middle-aged vasectomy (yes, idiots, I know that's not really what they do) in between your fingers for stability whilst painting thine fingernails. Or, did you know that if you pee on a jelly fish sting it will relieve the pain? Ok, the last one is actually true.
He Got Game.
By now you could have guessed that Oprah fans are totally eating this garbage up! And they are willing to drop upwards of $156.25 per tube to get their fix. "If Oprah is pimping it then it must be good!" While I'm going to doubt there is any overlap in our fan bases, I would like to take the opportunity to speak directly to any Oprah-dite reading this at the moment. YOU ARE BEING DOOPED BY THE ANTICHRIST!! That's right! I said it. I can't stand Oprah. To me, she is the herald to all things fake and phony. The sad fact is that 90% of people are stupid. (Not you! You read Trox Talk. You're cool.) And the masses of mindless sheep will go along with anything if some snake oil salesman with a plastic (or prepuce-covered) smile presents it to them in the just the right way.
You are beautiful.
This writer can hang his hat on one thing for certain. I just might have, in a round about way, managed to exact a little revenge on Charla's behalf (apart from bashing Ms. Winfrey in this here blog, she won't read it.) Thanks to her own greed driven line of cleansers, at some point, I may have transitively smacked Oprah Winfrey across the face with my junk...I highly doubt she has ever used the product herself though. If your mom uses it, does that make your dad and me eskimo brothers? That's right, and this was supposed to be a PG family friendly post.
If your mom uses it, does that make your dad and me eskimo brothers?
What about you? Have you ever heard a freaky or disgusting story about a product that either made you go out and buy it, or never want to have anything to do with a particular brand? Everyone's heard the Taco Bell roach eggs myth at least once. Tell me about your urban legend in the comments section. Who knows, maybe it will end up a Trox Talk topic someday! You lucky dog.
I know I promised the ladies of Trox Talk an Oprah post next, but that post has been regrettably preempted due to a rift in my Bengal fandom. Did anyone catch any of the NFC or AFC championships this weekend? If you did, you not only witnessed four NFL organizations who clearly have their acts together, but you probably noticed the way they all lived up to their expectations, played their asses off, and whether they won or lost, had nothing to be ashamed of. Sure, fans of the Bears and the Jets are disappointed today I'm sure, but at least they know they won't have to suffer through a litany of poor excuses, mismanagement, and underachievement any time soon. I bet you can already see where I'm going with all this. If you're an unfortunate Bengals fan like myself, you've pretty much come to terms with the idea that this team will break you down in every way imaginable over the course of a season. Even when the Bengals have success (which is next to never), it's usually overshadowed by tragedy, criminal activity, managerial stupidity, lack of preparation, poor scouting, awful personnel signings, or some other random act of the cosmos designed to bring all of us in the who dey nation back to reality..What is the reality? We are not fans of a good football team.
If you were a Bengals fan watching the games this past Sunday it's likely you noticed a couple of things. First of all, you saw what it takes to make a solid run in the NFL playoffs, and you realized the Bengals don't have it. Second of all, you no doubt saw the incessant ticker running along the bottom of the screen every 23 seconds that read: "ESPN is reporting that Bengals quarterback Carson Palmer will ask the team for a trade and is contemplating retirement if the team doesn't. A Bengals spokesperson tells FOX19 that the team has no comment."
My first thought was pure unadulterated rage. I wanted to break something, but everything in the man cave is too expensive, so I kicked both of my dogs down the stairs instead...Not really, but I was pretty upset. My guess is last week C.P. had a meeting with Mike Brown, the owner of the Bengals, and expressed his desire for a new offensive coordinator. (If you didn't know, it is universally accepted and laughed about in many circles just how insanely predictable Cincinnati's offensive play calling can get sometimes. Brat is the reason they mock us. If you ever want some free swag or a gift cert for a few free wings, just go to B-Dubs on Sunday when they are playing You Be QB on the big screen and guess what he's going to call next. If I can watch it on my couch and tell you every single play the Bengals are going to run in any given scenario, odds are the opposing defense can probably figure it out too.) I just bested my personal record for length of a thought in parenthesis, which means I accomplished more than the Bengals did last season. Anyway, Carson, in my estimation, tells Brown and head coach Marvin Lewis "Hey guys. It's Brat or me." And they can't run to the papers fast enough to let everyone know that ol' Bob's not going anywhere. Fast forward a week or so to Sunday and all of a sudden #9 wants out of our fair city. When my hate for all things football subsided, I really couldn't blame him. Too be honest, at times, I sort of want out too.
See? They're fine.
Here's the thing. If I go to a restaurant and the food is shitty, the service sucks, there's nowhere to park, the TVs have Golden Girls on half of them, and the other half are showing a game in standard def, I DON'T GO BACK THERE! Nevertheless, I have had the Bengals take-out menu every Sunday for as many seasons as I can remember. So what is wrong with me!?!? It leaves a bad taste in my mouth just about every week, and when I actually am satisfied it has more to do with what they didn't screw up than the part of my order that they finally got right. Is this analogy getting away from anyone? You following me? Great. So then I take my paper bag home after being completely over-charged, they forgot the napkins, and half of the hot-n-sour soup is soaking through the bottom because they didn't put the lid on all the way. I would just order from somewhere else next time, but hey, they are the only football...errr...chinese joint in town. I'm not going to drive all the way to Cleveland just for a bite. Besides, from the looks of things there isn't much left to eat up there anyway..
Who has one polish sausage for a thumb that still works and hates salad? THIS GUY!!
As Bengals fans, we're stuck. I think a lot of people are pissed off at Carson Palmer because he isn't stuck here. He's minded his P's and Q's, played the roll of starting QB to a fault, and has enough duckets in the bank to just bail on everything Bengals to start a new life if he wants. If you step back and honestly think about it objectively, can you blame him for wanting to get out of here? He plays for one of only a handful of NFL teams that has no general manager. The owner of the franchise calls all of the shots, and anyone who watched Hard Knocks last year could plainly see that the man is lost. You don't need to be a math whiz to understand the inequality of Mike Brown < Paul Brown. They also have sub-par training facilities, an awful medical staff, and a scouting department that is underfunded and understaffed. I feel like anyone who says, "Oh Carson Palmer hasn't been good since he got hurt in the playoffs a few years back. He's scared of getting hit." just doesn't get it. Wouldn't you be scared too if you were the quarterback of this team. If you are injured you know you won't have the right doctors to get you the most accurate diagnosis, the proper resources to rehab the injury, and everyone is going to be salty with you like it's your fault that your backup doesn't know how to play football...Well, in Carson's case I guess the crappy backup is pretty much his own fault, but how can he fix all of the organization's other problems?
I'm good with $390,460.00 per season, but WTF is a snap count, bro?
Speaking of J-Palm, he might be the only guy more upset than me to see Carson go. It has to be the worst feeling in the world being the less talented brother of a superstar. The only thing worse would be if your superstar brother got you a job, he was the sole reason you were allowed to hang on to that job, and then he bailed on you after everyone had already had time to figure out that you are in no way qualified for said job. I don't care what field you're in. I don't blame Carson for helping his brother out though. I love my brother to pieces, and I would get him a job anywhere I could with me, so long as I knew he could stand on his own without me and that I'd be better than him at it. Whatever happens to Jordy, he'll end up on his feet. After all, he does have that iPhone app for people with huge prostates...
Next he plans to design an app for people who are constantly getting sacked on 3rd down...
Another rumor making it's way around the mill is that many of the Bengals are so invested in Carson as a leader, that if he chooses to take a different path in his life, they will too. We all know wide receivers Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco likely won't be back next year either way, but Cedric Benson, and Jonathan Joseph, in my humble opinion, are consistently two bright spots on the Bengals roster who might start exploring other options as well if Carson gets his wish and is dealt to another team. I would like to think those rumors aren't true, but they kind of make sense. Cedric's chances of returning have been described by those around him as "dim" after it was announced that Bratkowski will return next season. On March 4th the current Collective Bargaining Agreement expires along with the contracts of shutdown corner Jonathan Joseph and linebacker Dhani Jones who led the team in tackles last season. If the Bengals fail to re-sign these guys before that time, it won't just be the offense who is in danger of losing it's key players.
Although this particular post might suggest otherwise, I love this team. I take a lot of joy in their success and when they fail, like a lot of the people in Cincinnati, I fall pretty damn hard right along with them. I'm not going to sit up on my high horse of internet anonymity and pretend like I have all the answers. In fact, if this team is a sinking ship, I'll be one of the dumbasses bobbing around in a life jacket waiting for the coastguard to come and scoop me up. There are just a few unrealistic and judgmental points of view that I don't agree with in this town when it comes to sports. Idealists will tell you that WE, the fans, are the problem. As long as we hold onto hope, rock striped jerseys, and spend our hard earned dollars on tickets, parking, concessions, and any other number of things that load up Mike Brown's pockets, we will never see change. I'd like to know what those same idealists think "change" is. The team is dissolved? Sold? Burned to the ground for not being profitable? So in the words of Lebron James (or Nike depending on your perspective)....
"What should I do? Should I burn my jerseys? Pretend like Carson Palmer is washed up and that the Bengals are better of without him? Should I tell you that I have converted to being a Steelers fan (gross)? Or that Ray Lewis doesn't kill people (allegedly)? Should I bandwagon jump like the rest of the fairweather a**holes in this fickle city? Ben Roethlisberger is not a role model! Should I stop watching Bengals games with my friends? They're my friends. Maybe I should just watch women's Lacrosse on ESPN 14 instead of football. What should I do?"
My parody wasn't as good as this one...but you get the idea.
I did compare the Bengals to nasty egg rolls earlier, but they are MY nasty egg rolls. I don't want to see them end up in a different city somewhere else. I know that I couldn't in good conscience cheer for another team outside of the one I grew up supporting, so I doubt you'll see me in Pats gear anytime soon. The future for all of us die hard Bengals fans seems pretty up in the air right now. I am sure about 2 things though..
#1. My family is going to continue to be "part of the problem" when we go buy replacements for these soon-to-be-useless rags..
#2. I wish Carson all the best just like I wish I had any idea what on earth we are going to do to replace a Heisman Trophy winning, all-time PAC 10 pass leading, two time Pro-bowler, who lead this team to it's only two playoff appearances in the last 20 years.. I know he didn't exactly shine this year, but I don't think Peyton Manning or Tom Brady would have played much better in this circus of an NFL franchise. I guess I'll have to get together with some friends, grab some beers, and watch the draft to find out what happens next... Is Vince Young still out there? Go Packers!!
Warmest Regards,
Trox
P.S. This post took precedent due to all of the "What's your take on Carson?" emails and texts I've received since yesterday. I'll get to the Oprah post on Wednesday or Thursday. Then keep your eyes peeled for a Trox Talk weekend special! I'm going to be a guest on www.thebestcast.com which, if you haven't heard, is pretty much The Best Podcast on the web.
Here's the scene, I am out with a group of 7 or so of my closest friends. It's a Saturday night and we are getting after it pretty hard. We visit a few local watering holes, as the night is winding down we awkwardly stumble to a divey little sports pub down the street from my place. It's around 1:00am, so there is about an hour until last call, and we were looking to finish the evening right! It's been my experience that after many rounds, including a few tasty shots called a "German chocolate cake" which require you to bite a lemon dipped in sugar upon completion, ANYTHING can start to sound like a fantastic idea. I've seen guys go hoggin' in an attempt to convince chubby girls with low self-esteem to come home with them. I've seen girls go slummin' where they ask the most homeless looking hipster to come over for a "night cap". Hell, my own friends, in an altered state, have jumped into bushes, knocked over pop machines, stolen cars, argued with law enforcement, and generally made complete asses of themselves, not because they are bad people, or because they are greasers from an S.E. Hinton novel...Bottom line: alcohol can inspire some pretty strange behavior..It's just that not every night are these brilliant ideas posted in bold letters on a hot pink piece of paper practically screaming at you in your inebriated state. On this particular night, one was!
Have you ever gotten something so ingrained in your mind that there was no way you could ever be convinced otherwise? Try to understand, for me, this idea of participating in a chili cook-off became politics, my heritage, and religion all roll into one. I would not be swayed. I could not be deterred. I was going to enter this G.D. chili contest, and I was going for the gold! All night I kept telling everyone who would listen, "I'm entering this bitch and I am going to own at chili." Some rolled their eyes, others sneered, and some flat out told me to stop breathing so hard in their general direction because I apparently smelled like Betty Crocker had fornicated with a gas tank...The point is no one believed in me, and that only made my desire to change lives with my crockpot even worse. There was just one eensy weensy teeny tiny little obstacle I need to overcome (apart from sobering up)..I had never once even attempted to make anything even slightly resembling a pot of Texas style chili. The closest I had ever come was blogging about the Crosstown Shootout. (Sponsered by Skyline)...Needless to say, most of my group had forgotten about my quest by the time we all decided to crash a little after 4am..
Apparently, sometime throughout the course of the night, I had managed to set an alarm on the ol' BlackBerry entitled "Wake yo' ass up and make some chili!" So, at 9:30 I took heed of my ebonic speaking, yet surprisingly coherent, alter ego from the night before. I vaguely recalled flashes of the nay saying mob on the patio outside the bar and running my mouth to last years champion, who was one of the bartenders, about how crappy his chili probably was, and how the hillbillies in the surrounding area wouldn't know about culinary prowess (or how to spell "culinary prowess") if it walked up and baked them a soufflé. After throwing salt like that. There was no way I could afford to stay in bed.
I hopped up, didn't shower, jumped in the car, and immediately called up Gram Trox to let her know that her favorite grandson was coming over to borrow her chili pot, pick her brain on some recipe ideas, and ransack her kitchen. Then I informed her that I was going to butcher her instructions and leave her house a complete mess.. "See you in 20.."
When I arrived I had her meet me in the driveway, still in her PJs to hit the grocery store. I would have let her change clothes, but time was of the essence. I gathered up all the things she said I'd need trying to make upgrades wherever I could. Ground sirloin, Italian sausage,1 onion, 1 green pepper, tomato sauce, kidney beans, and a few spices that she told me she was low on at the house. I spent about $27 total. I only mention the ingredients and the price for the sake of the story. This isn't a Martha Stuart cooking blog.
I used my Gram's classic recipe to make the chili that I have eaten for as long as I can remember. I've loved it and requested it for over two decades and it has never once failed to satisfy...until I tried to make it. It tasted like..well... runny tomato poop is probably an accurate description. Even when she tried to help me I just couldn't get the flavor right...Then she suggested some drastic changes.
This is my Gram. She is the sweetest most wonderful person in the world.
She suggested I try adding three more odd ingredients. Grape jelly, yellow mustard, and more onions (I HATE onions! I once tried to fight a Jimmy Johns delivery guy for not removing the onion from my Totally Tuna as requested. He didn't even make the sandwich. Sorry, guy.) That's when I lost my mind. I figured if we were going to go tossing a buncha random stuff in the pot, and I was going to stand no chance in the big chili cook-off, and I was going to be shamed by my competition and peers, by God I was going out with a BANG! THUMBS UP LET'S DO THIS!! On top of Gram's suggestions I added a healthy dose of cinnamon and a packet of Swiss Miss dark chocolate cocoa mix to the equation..It was a risky move, but a wise CopyMat employee in the movie Jerry Maguire once said, "That's how you become great, man. Hang your balls out there."
Not lookin' too shabby.
We let it all cook for a couple of hours and then I rushed to the site with just a few minutes to spare. The air was thick with competitive tension. I no sooner arrived and realized I had gravely misjudged what I was up against. What started off as a goof had me nervous beyond belief and had become something out of a nightmare. You know those dreams where you are standing in front of your geometry class naked, and you don't know the answer to question #6, and someone apparently left a window open, and it's inexplicably cold for high noon in May? That was me setting up my crock pot of chili next to the delicious-looking, well thought out, and soberly premeditated dishes around me...I was doomed. I waited nervously for the inevitable fate I was to suffer. How embarrassing...
Pretty little maids. All in a row.
The competition wasn't the only thing I underestimated. The judges for the cook-off were a group of local fire fighters who knew chili (I really didn't), loved it spicy (mine really wasn't), and had been doing this sort of thing in the community for years (I just moved here). The men entered in the competition were all late 40's roughneck types who took their respective recipes VERY seriously. And the women were worse. They were a sort of cackling "Real Housewives of Anderson Township" gaggle who would have used weapons for this challenge if allowed to do so. Ruthless. I could tell most of them thought it was "cute" for me to try to get on their chili-level. I sampled pretty much all of the competition. I'm not going to lie virtually all of them were among the best chili I had ever tasted. They don't serve stuff like this at Frisch's Big Boy. It was hardcore chili! Man's Game chili!
The Cincy FD arrived and immediately got down to business. Most of the contestants stood around schmoozing and kissing fireman ass in hopes of getting a leg up, but the judges, for the most part, were too preoccupied with stuffing their faces to notice these not-so-subtle advances. (It was their lunch hour after all.) I played it cool. I sat back and let the judges eat. Then I noticed something remarkable. A number of the fireman were going back to chili #5 for seconds...
That's me. Lucky #5...
Everyone with an entry waited in anticipation. Most of them had probably looked forward to this tasting for months. They perfected their recipes, put in the time, and now it all came down to this. Their moment in the spotlight where they were more than just a housewife, a bartender, or a pedo on disability..today they would be chili GODS! You could cut the tension with a knife as the hungry firemen reached a verdict...and then.... I WON!!!!!!!!!!!!
The envelope of triumph!
OK, so I technically didn't win...I came in 3rd, but it was still pretty bitchin'. The envelope contained a gift card for $20 which means I netted -$7.00 on the deal. Sometimes when you take a loss on an investment you actually win. (*MESSAGE!*) It felt great to place in such an amazing field with such expert judges. It felt even better to take a gamble on something that was completely outside of my comfort zone.
This one was a little long winded, so thanks for sticking with it. It took a couple of extra days, but it won't take as long to throw up my next post. I told you when I started Trox Talk that there would be a little something for everyone. We've had something for the sports nuts, something for the motorheads, and now this one was for the food people. Up next I think maybe we'll do something for the ladies...I'm going to talk some Oprah. Stay tuned! If you dig it click the follow button, or you can hit me up on Twitter @troxtalk, or you can just swing by my place sometime for dinner. I AM an award winning cook now.
Nothing big here, gang. I just wanted to show you guys a few of the highlights from my weekend trip to the Cavalcade of Customs in Cincinnati at the Duke Energy Center. I'm not going to do the typical "check out this sweet Lambo, bro!" blog. (although there were definitely a few rides I wouldn't mind having for my daily commute.) Instead, I thought I'd show you some of my more interesting, yet less predictable, snapshots from down there.
The show was veritable time capsule of automotive engineering dating back all the way to when cars were first put into mass production. Travel to each era was made simple with these bad boys.
"Roads? Where we're going we don't need roads!"
However, the crowd and happenings were far more peculiar than any time period from the classic Back to the Future films. There were a few crazies who could have easily been mistaken for Doc Brown, but there were even more who could have been confused with UFC fighters, trannys, Beverly Hill Billies, and the cast of Happy Days...Come to think of it, some of them actually WERE the cast of Happy Days. Someday I will look back on this afternoon as the day I saw, in the flesh, with my own two eyes, the man, the myth the legend..
I absolutely could not believe it was actually him! Right there in person! THE FONZ!!
Years from now I will reflect on this day and try to explain to my grandkids about the time when, by pure chance, I (almost) met Coach Klein from The Waterboy, Principal Himbry from Wes Craven's Scream, and the voice of Meathook from Street Sharks. One thing is for certain, there is no way that those grandkids will possibly give a shit...
Something else I saw on my time warp trip through the Cavalcade of Customs was a kick ass little bootlegging dragster from the prohibition era. Some of you degenerates will probably have a pretty tough time imagining a period in history where every weekend wasn't a total bender and, every now and then, people were sober and read books instead of reading crappy (but entertaining) blogs........
Pretty sure I've been called a "whiskey warrior" a time or two.
Another blast from the past that made a lot of people uncomfortable was the blatant bigotry sprinkled throughout the show. Rebel flags, mullets, and lynchings were afoot...OK not lynchings, but this was pretty offensive. Not just any "White Power"..."SUPER WHITE POWER".
The guys and gals circled around this rusty old truck with their pointy hats, hollerin', and torches seemed pretty laid back...
As a Reds fan, a Pete Rose fan, and a baseball fan in general, I really appreciated this custom painted cherry red 2010 Chevy Camaro SS with Charlie Hustle airbrushed all over it. Notice how he has a handful of his junk. I don't know if he is signaling for someone to steal second or fighting off the crabs he got from one of the lovely ladies at the calender booth. All I really know is that I want this car for Christmas next year. Start saving.
Speaking of guys who are pretty bad ass, there was one last hilarious site on my tour-de-weird at the Duke Center. There was no shortage of Smedium Affliction Tees, barbed wire ink, tribal this, or "likes-to-fight" that. One ginger man stood out in the crowds of roided out fauxhawks arguing with there girlfriends in attendance. He knows 67 ways to break your arm from it's socket but just one way to stand in line and still look tough..as he awaits with bated breath for his chance..his one shot in life...to meet.....SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!!
He got a little fussy when he found out Sandy Cheeks wasn't there, but at least his tanning bed skin matched Patrick on stage for the photo-op. GET SOME!!
I know I said I didn't start this thing just so I could play sportswriter, but I like to keep a little local flavor on this deal wherever I can. This will be my third game post in a row and what a game it was! The University of Cincinnati Bearcats faced the Xavier University Musketeers in what would be the 78th meeting overall between the two squads. Before tonight the series was led by UC 47-30 with Xavier dominant for much of the last decade. After losing their last three match-ups, UC clearly came out tonight with a serious chip on their shoulders. After a slow start, scoring just 6 points in the first 9 minutes of the game, UC found some rhythm. They shot ahead with about 10 minutes left in the first half and didn't look back. Yancy Gates, the Bearcats only scholarship player, was playing like a man possessed on both sides of the floor. He finished with 22 points and 14 rebounds. Dion Dixon, the Cats leading scorer, was also true to form again in this game which ended in a score of 66-46. The Bearcats are now 15-0 matching their best start to a season since 1998-99.
Bobby Knight is arguably the greatest NCAA basketball coach of all time and he was on commentary for this game which made it even more entertaining to watch. I don't care if he used to bring bull whips and steel chairs to beat the living piss out of his players during practice. Bob Knight is one of my favorite sports personalities. He is a straight shooter and he has such a brilliant mind for the game that sometimes you have absolutely no idea what in the blue hell he is talking about.
Examples:
1) "That's a little ham and eggs for ya! The pig is there but the chicken just wasn't committed." (...I couldn't possibly agree more....)
2) "The mental is to the physical, Dave, as four is to one in this game." (I rewound it twelve times and I still don't know what the shit he was talking about.)
3) During an officials review- "Oh he's probably just checking the weather."
While those were all gems they pale in comparison to some of Coach Knights past work...
I haven't watched a ton of Xavier games this year but I did notice a few things that were a little disappointing. For all the hype on Muskee's big man, Frease, I was thoroughly unimpressed. He's just another big oafy white guy who balls like a big oafy white guy. Don't get me wrong he is great for setting screens and picks, but unfortunately he is also great for traveling and getting his shots tossed back in his face by guys who are a good eight inches shorter than he is.. Relax, X fan. I'm sure he just had a tough night. Halloway is a punk. He is a great player, but he needs to stop jawing the officials, running junk to the other team at the free throw line, and getting T'd up.
Speaking of underachieving Xavier players, how would you like to be a fly on the wall at the Larkin Sunday dinner this week? It'll go something like this...
Momma Larkin: "So, boys. How was your week?"
Barry: "I humped 4 Victoria's Secret models and fell just a few votes short of the MLB Hall of Fame!"
Momma: "Oh that's nice dear. What about you Byron?"
Byron: "I masturbated bitterly into a tube sock. Then I was the radio analyst for a team who forgot about me a long time ago. They lost."
Now I am a fan. And as a fan this post would have been a lot less gloaty and a lot more pissed off if the Bearcats hadn't won the game. So, to all my Xavier friends reading this, remember it's just for laughs. Don't get your blue gym shorts in a wad. This thing can pretty much go either way every year and this time it just wasn't your night. You should be happy for Bearcats fans. Someone in Clifton finally accomplished something that wasn't a Natty Light binge, date rape, armed robbery, or pregnancy. I was going to do a collection of other sports blurbs for the week, but I think I'll do it tomorrow. We'll make it a weekly Friday thing or something. I'm hitting the hay.
Sugar Bowl: Ohio State Buckeyes Vs. Arkansas Razorbacks
Part II: Second Half Reactions
This was truly an EPIC bowl game for the ages. I feel like people might be talking about this one for a very long time. After showing flashes of vintage Mike Vick (minus the Ron Mexico alias and defenseless animal genocide) in the first half, Terrelle Pryor and the Buckeye offense were virtually stagnant in the second half. Luckily, in the end, it really didn't seem to matter. Ohio State's defense was steadfast with few mistakes and the pass rush was pretty damn scary. Cameron Heyward is going to be an NFL stud someday. You can quote me on that.
I got a slight case of that ever-present fan angst in the 3rd and 4th quarters..You know that feeling where you're thinking "I swear to God if they screw this up I'm bringing a gun to work tomorrow!" ? No? Just me? Anyway, my anger was subsided by a few nuances that popped up during the game.. I don't know if it was the OSU or Arkansas band that kept chiming in with the March of the Nerds from the Star Wars movies every single time the Hogs tried to drive the field, but it kept my spirits up. Maybe Mallett Skywalker should have used the force a bit to keep his Ewok-armed receivers from dropping balls. With :58 left in the 3rd I could have sworn someone was busting a Jedi mind trick on the commentator when he uttered the phrase "NFL perfect pass". One of the Ewoks, Jerius Wright reeled in a decent, at best, pass from Skywalker, and he acted like Joe Montana were still alive and with us today.... Also, those silly rubber pig hats were no less annoying than those pissed stained terrible towels that Steeler fans use as a rib bib by the time it was all said and done. I digress.
Side Question: Is this team called the Razorbacks because they have to shave their cheerleaders between quarters? WOOF!
I learned a lot from watching the Sugar Bowl this year. For starters, I hadn't realized that forward progress was a rule that applied solely to SEC teams...Like it or not the officials were handing out 'old fashioneds' to anyone not sporting drug propaganda on their silver helmets.
I'll give credit where it's due, that blocked kicked with a minute left was unreal!! I pooped a little, but once again the OSU defense stepped up HUGE and got the only turnover of the night against the Razorbacks when it mattered the most and snapped the 9 game Buckeye losing streak against SEC teams in bowl games! FINAL SCORE: Buckeyes-31...Arkansas- 26!! I know this second section of the night was a bit sloppy, but it's past my bed time and the editors have already left for the night. Later this week I'll give you my take on Marvin Lewis returning to the Bengals for another season, my pick for the National Championship, an NFL playoff preview, and a shitload more. My first day in this realm has been stellar! Thanks for stopping by... Stay classy San Diego.
