The debate last night was boring and of no substantive value but it will probably garner Kerry a small, albeit extremely valuable, number of new voters.

Bush wasn't trounced by the Marxist candidate, in fact both candidates spent most of the evening spewing carefully rehearsed rhetoric, neither gaining nor losing ground to their respective opponent. However, GWB did react poorly when Kerry besmirched his record, often distorting his face into a scowl. And, John Kerry was a much more eloquent speaker, which isn't terribly important in terms of leadership but it is a must have for a successful debater.

Last night wasn't a major victory for Kerry, though it was a victory nonetheless. He proved there is still life in his paint-on-tan campaign.

I feel like being vindictive.

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This can't be real, it sounds like something from the Onion.


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I rarely respond directly to comments on the site, at least not in post form, but it is needed in this instance.


Greg, I don't know the answer but will guess Terry Bradshaw. Ask another question not related to jersey numbers; for example who was the only man to hit fifty homeruns in the 1970's or, a really easy one, what two players were drafted before Michael Jordan in the NBA draft?


Josh, you have referred to me as a racist twice in the last year and have been woefully wrong both times. I want to clarify why I used the term urbanization and how it is very accurate of the professional and collegiate sports today. Actually, I am not referring to all professional sports, just basketball and football. My dislike for baseball is centered on the prevalence of supplements, steroids and juiced balls.

Basketball and football have been dominated by black athletes since the late 1960's. My problem with both sports begins in the 1990's with the rise of hip-hop music. I am not a musical historian, nor would I want to be one, but it is fair to say that rap hijacked the hip-hop scene during the 1990's, eventually each term becoming synonymous with one another. I don't like rap music, in fact I despise it. It is misogynistic, anti-white and so full of black stereotypes that makes a Klansman blush. Like the plague it spread, going from simplistic verse set to rhythm to a way of living life. That way of life is the norm in the NBA & NFL.

The rap way of life is very prevalent in the urban inner city. Some argue it simply reflects the way of life on the streets, I believe it is actually what informs that way of life. It feeds the black community a steady diet of visceral hate, all the while taking their hard earned money and moving to the burbs. I wouldn't want to live in the hood, nor would you. I don't hate those who do, but I find those who exploit it, i.e. Suge Knight, Puff Daddy & Weird Al Yankovic, reprehensible.

It says something about the state of the game when Snoop Dog, god love him, could very well be a poster boy for the NBA. He is an ex-con, acquitted murder who gets high all day long. That definition sums up a surprising number of players in the league, which does not go unnoticed by white fans. Why do you think the NBA has seen a steady decline in ratings? It is because suburban white America can't relate to the Allen Iverson's of the world.

We loved Magic Johnson and idolized Michael Jordan. Both men were flawed, one being a chronic womanizer with the other suffering from compulsive gambling problems but we accepted them all the same. They didn't litter their bodies with tattoos of mother and three-eye dragons, nor did they commit violent crimes against coaches, fans or worst of all, their own spouses. Instead they played hard, acted like gentleman in the public eye and were given free reign, even when they committed huge errors like playing professional baseball and hosting a late night talk show. Sadly that was the NBA of the 1980's and early 90's. It is dead now, replaced by the likes of Tracy Too High McGrady and DMX's ugly little brother, Allen Iverson. And, this same lack of respect for self and the game has spread to the college game; instead of going to class, or working on free throws, these kids spend their time getting new and improved Chinese symbol tattoos, committing petty larceny and sexualyl assaulting their classmates.

The NFL, which is as popular as ever, has managed to negate much of the hip-hop influence with clever marketing, public relation gurus and, most effectively, focusing on franchise and not individual superstars. Pretty much everything Warren Sapp hates about the NFL is why it has managed to be successful and not alienate guys named Charlie O'Brien who work in a cubicle. This is a league that has produced several murders (in the last decade no less), numerous rapists, a slew of drug offenders (even a few drug dealers) and its fair share of men carrying weapons without permits, yet everyone seems to forget about the incidents. Their PR machine is unmatched and the reliance on franchise and, not player, loyalty is the reason why it will continue to bring in droves of fans. It also doesn't hurt that most recognizable position, quarterback, is still dominated by corn-feed Midwestern boys and suntanned Californian phenoms. The latter situation is changing, which I believe is for the good, as more and more teams feature black quarterbacks but it is still a factor as to why the game is so popular and easy to relate to.

That is the thesis of my post; my inability to relate to NBA and NFL players is why I don't enjoy the games. I don't notice the players skin tone but can't help being offended by their way of life. The urbanization of the sports has alienated me along with many others. I find the rapper lifestyle, which has become the NBA and NFL lifestyle, to be offensive, shallow, and racist. Allen Iverson, Terrell Owens and countless others, do a great disservice to themselves and the young black men who seek to emulate their outrageous and dangerous lifestyles. When you speak to the lowest common denominator of society, don't expect my glowing approval. (Unless, we are talking about an Adam Sandler movie)

You can keep your urbanized sports: I will stick with my Nascar and country music.

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I almost feel bad for the Browns, almost. At least they will recoup his signing bonus, since Winslow won't be playing in 35% of the plays this year. There is always next year, and in a couple weeks, you, the diehard Browns' Fans, will be able to cry over what-ifs with the Red Sox faithful who will be reliving another Buckneresque post-season debacle. Of course, they can blame the curse of the Bambino, what is your excuse? The curse of Art Modell?

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Haven't they seen Airplane II? I, for one, won't be a passnenger, unless, Ted Striker is onboard.

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Math Sucks


September was a good month; I participated in two successful auctions, witnessed this blog reach an average of well over forty-five visits a day, and I ate a twelve inch sub from the local deli. Sadly, only two of those acts stand up against scrutiny, while the other appears to be far from a meritorious accomplishment.

At this rate I Hate You will have nearly 1500 unique visits by the end of the month. Now, I understand that isn't an extreme amount, but the little girl I keep locked in the closet was beaming with pride at the accomplishment. Upon further research, I discovered 81% of those who visited the blog-of-blogs stayed for under five seconds. I read at an average of 750 to 1,000 words a minute, which is a fairly rapid pace. Assuming the 81% read at same rate as me, the most they could view in five seconds would be 62.5 to 83.3 words. My average post contains 224 words, which means the overwhelming majority of you read, at most, 1/3 of a single post.

I am saddened by the fact: No, I am enraged at the fact. Therefore, I now promise to write a more inclusive blog, one that speaks to all peoples, colors, genders and nationalities. Actually that sounds like a lot work, instead I am going to include the phrase anal sex porn midget in this text, leading to a huge influx of traffic. Hopefully the desperate porn legions, looking for a free glimpse of anal sex porn midget will vainly search throughout the site.

All they will find is:

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I don't like Bill Gates. I do respect and fear him, like most of my schizophrenic brethren; after all he does watch me constantly via the cameras installed in my molars. My problem with Anthony Michael Hall is two-fold: I am a jealous of his incredible success and, more importantly, pissed that his Windows XP Service Pack 2 (SP2) caused an infinite reboot loop on father's computer.

I spent nearly six hours attempting to discern the how and why of the problem; I was unable to find either answer. After flirting with the idea of putting my fist through the motherboard, I concluded the problem would be better served by wiping the hard drive clean and reinstalling Windows XP. Thankfully, dad primarily uses his personal computer to surf eBay and check his webmail, so nothing was lost beyond his IE Favorites list. Eight hours later (apparently a couple years ago, dad bought the last computer built with a 2x CD drive ) the computer was up and running again. While reinstalling the cable modem software it hit me; Windows Update had installed SP2 the day before the infinite reboot loop had begun.

Gates, damn you straight to hell. You are the reason that I fear ubiquitous computing. A world where my stove shoots hell spawned flames and the toaster impregnates my wife; all because the Windows HA (Home Appliance) operating system had compatibility issues with the new update.

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Steven Spielberg has went a bit too far. I am all for celebrating the upcoming 30th anniversary of the mother of all Shark Tales, but this is a little much.

Of course this could just be a case of life imitating art, either way, the coasts of New England are once again in peril. All we need now is a Richard Dreyfuss inspired midget placed in a shark cage.

I am betting on the shark to win.

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One Good Deed


It is hell...getting old. The man said that over and over as I helped him find his car. He had paid the water bill at the water department and managed to lose his car. The man walked several blocks throughout downtown Newark; he ended up in front of dad's store. Issy and I were taking a walk, in lieu of actually doing any work when the man said "I lost my car." I assumed he had parked nearby, somewhere along the square as it can be difficult to discern one parking spot from another. We walked around the block, I noticed the man was tiring and I told him to sit and rest. The Brothers Wilson walked around several more blocks, searching vainly for a "black Chevy truck with a covering on the back", the old man could not provide anymore detailed information. Issy pointed out a black Chevy truck with a covering about two blocks away; I hoped it was the right one.

We went back and took the befuddled man to "his" car, upon reaching the vehicle he stated that he was looking for a Ford, one that has a two folding backseats and pointed to a nearby caravan as an example. I began to realize that the man wasn't entirely sure what car he drove, which was going to make finding his vehicle very difficult. And, to make matters worse he could barely stand. I failed to mention one fact; he was ninety years old.

After instructing him to rest on the nearby bench, I asked if he needed any water, the man said "No. I feel like a damned fool. It is hell...getting old." I assured him that everyone makes a mistake and hurried back to the store so I could use dad's van to make the search a bit easier. Ten minutes later with Issy in tow we drove back to the man and set off, once again, to find his wayward car.

I checked virtually every parking lot, space, nook and cranny between the courthouse and the Water Department, apparently the car had disappeared, or was never there in the first place. I quizzed the man several times and discovered that he was now sure the car had been parked by the Water Department.

Could someone else have picked it up? No, he didn't have anyone else. Did you leave a spare key in the car? No, I have my only key with me. This left three possibilities: 1. The car, truck, or mini-van, whichever it was, had been towed. 2. The car had been stolen by a very brave and/or stupid thieves in broad daylight in the parking lot next the City's Water Department. 3. The vehicle never existed in the first place. I figured it was option number three but that lead to more troubling questions: Why was the elderly gentleman all alone, wandering throughout the downtown and who had lost him? I inquired at the Water Department if any vehicles had been towed, the answer was no. Therefore, there was little else I could do to help.

I told the man that his best bet was to seek the help of the local Police Department; he agreed that was the best course of action or at least I think he did in the form of nodding his aged head. All he could keep saying was "It is hell...getting old."


I parked two hundred feet or so away from the entrance to the Police Department; I really believe those were the longest two hundred feet of his life. He could barely walk, I offered to assist him but he politely shooed me away. Several times he faltered and nearly fell, thankfully, I along with several cars, were there to offer support. Eventually he made it to the door, I opened it of course, and we arrived to the station. The clerk, or whatever you call non-uniformed woman at the front desk, inquired what I needed. I quickly and concisely detailed the particulars of our ill-fated adventure. She thanked me for bringing him there and gestured for me to leave. She motioned for the man to come forward and I left without ever so much as a goodbye.

I regret not staying a little longer, at least to say goodbye. I never did think to ask his name, nor did I offer my own. It never came up or at least I never thought to bring it up. I hope he found his erstwhile occupied car. His haunting mantra still echoes in my thoughts: It is hell...getting old.


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Hairy dykes meet über-bitch. I know it is wrong to take pleasure from the possible sexual intimidation and assault of another, be that as it may, I hope Miss Stewart learns the true meaning of the term "Carpetbagger" during her confinement in prison camp. One can only hope.

No, I don’t hate lesbians or think anything is wrong with the lifestyle (In fact I am quite enamored with lesbian sex and how it relates to my life), I just hate uppity and duplicitous she-beasts. Furthermore I wouldn't have a problem with Ken Lay being probed for information by Big Bubba & Company. Of course I wouldn't take any pleasure from that act because that would be gay.


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