December '05

Greatest news tease of all time (may need to crank your volume).

This was an abbreviated weekend. Had to put in a good ten and a half hours at the job on Saturday. That's no fun. Two days off is really the minimum you need to feel at peace with the universe. I think U.S. companies need to start going to the four day workweek. If a few of them do it, the rest will fall in line.

If people realized that there is very likely no God and what they have on this earth is the best they're ever gonna get, they'd be up in arms about the five day workweek. They'd be panicking. Like me.

Because spending 71.4 % of your days going to an office and advancing the goals of strangers is no way to live.

Time is valuable, we all know this. Yet nearly every one of us pisses it away like we can go make more if we need it. Not just at work but at home, doing dumb shit like watching "Lost" or blogging about wasting time.

I wish I had a shitload of money so I could re-allocate my time in a more rewarding way.

I bought New York magazine this week for the first time ever, I believe. Howard Stern was on the cover. I have mixed feelings about Howard, but I am vaguely interested in what will happen with his move to satellite radio. So I bought this piece of shit magazine. Worst article I ever read in my entire life. I can't believe they would publish such a thing. Even if you were a scabie on Howard Stern's arm, or if you were Howard Stern's accountant, or if you were some other entity whose livelihood depended on Howard Stern's continued success, you would be hard-pressed to make it through this article.

The only interesting thing I read in the magazine was that Jennifer Jason Leigh and Phoebe Cates are best friends. That made me happy somehow.

And I am excited about DJ DLR. He could fill a couple hours with VH stories every day for a decade and it would be compelling.

Today's word:

have

leading us to:

will you have

Any takers yet?

I saw "In Good Company" on cable this week. Pretty Godawful piece of Hollywood bullshit. Waste of time. I only watch a movie every month or so, so I am angered when they suck like this one did. The only saving grace (not "Topher," btw, who I think is annoying as hell) was that it had a couple of opportunities to take the obvious road and didn't. Mild surprises there.

Pete's bummed out. Cheer his ass up.

Fire Joe Morgan had an awesome dissection of Tommy Lasorda's blog (I shit you not, Lasorda has a blog). Lasorda was blogging about how underappreciated scouts are. My favorite part of the FJM critique (Lasorda's part in bold, FJM's response underneath it):

In my opinion, scouts should have their own hall of fame, just like baseball writers and broadcasters do. That recognition would be the validation they so richly deserve. Their contributions to the game are endless, their love for the game is unconditional and their commitment is inspiring.

I challenge you, Tommy Lasorda, to open this Baseball Scout Hall of Fame and attempt to run it as a viable business. What will you charge for admission? Two cents? One cent? Times will be tough for you, Tommy.

Oh that cracked me up.

I am ready to dump this blog and move on to the new one. I am just strategizing on how exactly to do it. What I am thinking right now is that I will continue to post all the non-blog stuff on this site (predictions, reviews, etc.), but maybe auto-redirect people to that blog as the main page. I think I might make Trayline its own separate blogspot blog as well. It's so much easier using that shit.

RIP Richard Pryor. Possibly the funniest human being of all time.

12/9/5: In Briefer

I wonder which one of the Van Gundy brothers was the one who got all the chicks.

It's Friday, and even less than the ten people who usually read this site read it on Fridays. So you won't get much from me.

I will say that I saw something on the subway today that I'm surprised I haven't seen more often.

I was getting out of the train at 15th street and 8th Avenue*, which is the business end of my morning commute. It's one of the satellite exits that doesn't have a token booth, so instead of regular turnstiles it has the big revolving door things. On a side note, when I was a kid I once saw a woman trapped in one of those. She was terrified. This was in the lawless heyday of late 70's NYC, so if you got trapped alone in one of those things late at night, all they'd find in the morning would be a few bones and some bloody matted hair.

Anyway, the way the 15th street exit is set up is that there are two of those revolving door things. Only one of them has a metrocard swiper (the one on the left as you exit), so I generally exit through the one on the right unless the coast is totally clear. Today a woman was exiting through the one on the left just as a woman on the outside tried to enter through the same door. This led to a struggle between the two women, each pushing on the door with all her might.

The woman who was entering yelled, "Stop it. I'll lose my two dollars!"

And the woman who was exiting yelled, "No you won't."

"I'll lose my two dollars!"

"No you won't!"

At that point, another woman who had just exited got involved:

"Stop it, she'll lose her two dollars!"

"No she won't!"

"Let her go!"

The woman who was exiting was about 25, 5'10", 160 and the woman who was entering was about 58, 4'11", 102. So within 15 seconds or so, the battle was over, with the larger woman getting her way.

Of course, then the little woman pushed through the revolving doors successfully. She didn't lose her two dollars.

What a story!

I've been working superduper hard this week. Puttin' in good thick hours at the office, coming home in a stupor. Wednesday was particularly rough, and I didn't even have time to eat more during the day than a handful of cashews and a banana. I got home around 11pm feeling pretty much totally defeated, but then I discovered that the wife had made me an omelet and some potatoes.

That is all any of us needs in life. Somebody who knows when you need some eggs, cheese, and potatoes, and finds a way to get them to you. Thank you Ma Bungle!

Today's namedatlyric word:

you

bringing us to

will you

OK, that's it. Stay warm.

* Yes, this is the same exit where a (presumably) homeless person took a volcanic crap against the wall. The crap was pretty much ingrained in the tiles. It must have come out like a rocket. The funny thing is that (at least) ten of my co-workers had also noticed it, and we'd all been silently hoping someone would clean it up. For like 8 months. It wasn't until someone actually came and took care of it, scrubbed it away as best they could, that we all felt free to discuss it. I remember that day. There was a huge outpouring of emotion and a palpable sense of relief; everyone was running around like it was V-J Day or something. What a shit.

12/7/05: In brief

How fucked-up must Brian Wilson have been if people are looking at his current condition and going, "What a comeback!"?

I gotta say, I'm digging this double-blog life I'm leading. I feel that each blog has its own personality and sense of purpose. This one here is a little more official. It's basically the current state of me for anybody who gives a crap. We also have your games here and your other pages and stuff. It's all very important.

The other one is more freewheeling. To demonstrate this in as obvious and clichéd a manner as I can think of, I am using limited punk-shoe-ay-shun on that site. And a lot of it doesn't relate to my everyday life. It's the thoughts you have when you're sitting in the back of a classroom and trying hard not to fall asleep. Even though it's a little less structured in terms of content, it is probably more focused than this one in that we are trying to keep each post to one topic. I think I like it better that way.

On that one I can write weird coded messages to space aliens and you won't mind.

I think the NBC TV series E Ring sounds vaguely dirty. Gross, even.

Work's been kicking me in the balls all week. Likely to continue.

Since I like the namedatlyric game, we will continue to play. First word of the first verse in the new song is:

Will

One hundred and twenty-eight points for a solution from one word, then it drops to fifteen. Enjoy.

12/5/05: Grindin' like Eric Nies

Today marks the first day of the 5th installment of the Annual Bungle Xmas Grind. Every year, right before, during and after the holidays, I get busier at work than a one-legged reporter in a grape stomping contest.

So this weekend I took it easy, kept my head together and I braced myself.

I did ten loads of laundry.

I drank two beers.

I watched approximately 2.5 hours of televised sporting events. I played no sports. I won't pick up a ball again until California in late late December.

I'm not going to lie to you -- I ate some nuts.

I went to a baby's christening party -- it was there that I had one of my two allotted beers, a Brooklyn Lager -- and I ate some of those delicious round crackers (the ones that have a little sweetness in 'em, they're almost like cookies) along with some brie cheese. Hell yes.

I shaved once. Using the new vibrating green alien razor. I am pretty sure it sucks.

I took some photos of the baby. Probably close to 80.

I pranced around on the internet for maybe three to five hours. No great new discoveries. But I will officially announce that I like this guy's blog. It's imaginitive. He's going on the list.

I encountered some squirrels in Stuytown. More than I've ever seen before. They are fast and they are shrewd and they know no fear. Something is brewing.

I looked in the mirror and thought to myself that I've never been uglier in my whole damn life. Then I found comfort in the fact that I'll almost certainly be uglier tomorrow.

I played around some with verbungle future. Posting to that blogger shite is so damn easy that it's only a matter of time until we make it our permanent home. In fact, it's so easy that I recommend every last one of you create your own blog. It's fun as hell, and I'm sure you have more interesting things to say than I do. So say 'em. Post nekkid pics of yourself (NSFW). List people who need cock punches. Tell us things we didn't know about Gatorade. Actually, that's not such a good idea. But whatever else you want to do, you should do it. If you take me up on this, I will gladly add you to the honor roll at right.

Verbungle will remain right here for the immediate future with only occasional updates over there. Our situation is not unlike the QB dilemma of the San Diego Chargers. We know we've got Rivers waiting in the wings, but there's just no reason to pull Breese as long as he's got the hot hand. It's an abundance of quality. No worries.

I read that the Yankees may have lost as much as $85 million last year. I find that interesting in a lot of ways. It might mean that the luxury tax is working. It might mean that they will have to thin out the payroll in the future. It also might just mean that the Yankees are lying. I was under the impression that the Yankees owned the YES network. I guess technically I was wrong about that, but not really. In fact, I think they are cooking the YES books to the degree that they actually made money last year. And every year. But I am just a fool, don't listen to me.

Today's word in namedatsong:

braggin'

...bringing us to...

Well I'm not braggin'

Solve away. No googling.

12/4/5: The Magic Light

The human race never stops amazing me with its relentless optimism.

I was walking down 23rd street at around 5pm today (after a wistful visit to Tekserve) and the wind was blowing pretty bad. It was already completely dark and it was about 30 degrees outside. Not fierce winter weather yet but cold enough that outside is someplace you only want to be when you're making your way from one inside to another.

There was a dude standing on the sidewalk, and he was demoing some kind of pinwheel/yo-yo thing that lit up when you moved it around. He had a bagful of 'em and he was looking to make a sale.

"Magic Light!" he yelled through the cold. "I'VE GOT THE MAGIC LIGHT."

It just crushed me. This poor dude, standing in the cold, hawking some crappy toy and not a soul interested. There were no kids around, and even if there were, I can't imagine any X-Box-360-owning, name-brand-obsessed little brat getting excited about "The Magic Light".

No, this man was not going to move any merchandise on this particular evening. He was going to stand there in the chill and he was going to keep shouting out into the night that he had the magic light until it got too late and too cold to stand there anymore. Then he was going to sigh and shove his demo unit back into the bag with the rest of the magic lights and he was going to get on the subway and head back to wherever he was going to spend the night. And tomorrow he'll be back out there, hustling magic lights or some other useless item that can't possibly help him pay his rent.

But the fact that he goes out there and tries day after day is inspiring as hell. Because the supreme probability of failure is all around him, laughing at him, daring him to quit. But he doesn't give in. He doesn't shoot anybody or rob a bank. He just goes out there and does his thing for ten hours and gets another day closer to dying.

Sometimes it seems like the whole world is one big pyramid scheme. And then you remind yourself that the magic light guy's not even at the very bottom of the pyramid. He's probably living better than half the planet. Still, seeing people struggle like that makes you feel a lot of things: guilty for coveting fancy new computers and shit, thankful for how good you've got it.

It's something we all think about every day, isn't it? Why am I not doing more for people who have less than I do? Sometimes we act like thinking these thoughts, feeling some vague sense of global sympathy, is enough, rather than doing something. It's human to feel that way. There has to be some balance in your life between getting the things you want and sacrificing a little bit here and there so somebody else can get a little more. You're not obligated to live your life in Nader-like austerity. You can buy yourself some cool shit. You can own an MP3 player and wear a decent pair of pants and go see the new Vin Diesel movie if you like.

But we should all do something, shouldn't we? Something not for us or our immediate circle. Maybe give some money here or there. Donate some time. Deciding how and how much is up to the individual, but shouldn't there be a bare minimum?

I think there should be, and I hereby propose that this bare minimum on compassion, this humanitarian equivalent of re-filling the ice cube tray, is giving away the shit you don't need to people who might need it.

So tomorrow, NYC-area verbungle readers, go through your coat closet and pull out your crappy old winter coat, the one you've replaced but still feel an emotional bond with, and donate it to somebody who needs it. And maybe this'll be the start of something more.

Thanks for hearing me out on this corny shit. Fuck you if you think it's condescending or otherwise lame.

***

The Elogosphere is abuzz with rumors about Hans Bungle's inevitable departure from the Microsoft FrontPage software and his decision to go with Blogger (or possibly another free publishing tool) as his means for reaching the masses. But here at verbungle.com we consider the internets a massive collaboration that thrives on interactivity and feedback. So we will throw out a few questions to you, the loyal few who have nothing better to do than read this site on a Sunday afternoon between bites of a hoagie while sitting on the couch watching the J-E-T-S L-O-S-E. And we may incorporate your responses into our decision-making process.

1) If we migrate the blog to blogger, will you continue to read it, or would you prefer we kept it right here and continue using this same lame software and format?

2) If we go with blogger, do you prefer the blogger comments interface or good ol' HaloScan?

3) Tech experts (isired, this means you if you're out there) -- should I leave the old pages of verbungle.com up there in their current incarnation? What should I do with things like the "predictions" page once I have my sexy new Mac at some point next year? Update them manually in HTML and then re-publish them using FTP? Fuck that's a pain. I don't know about any of this. Should I let Blogspot host my blog or should I host it myself using blogger's software (or somebody else's)? Should I host my photos and shit and link to them in blogger? Basically, how should I run shit once I transition out of my PC world?

4) As annoying as it may be to check two different sources for the same amount of bullshit content you're accustomed to getting in one place, we ask that you consult verbungle future again today for some bonus material. We are testing things out over there so bear with us.

***

Today's namedatsong word is:

not

That leaves us with this so far:

Well I'm not

I will say for near-certain that you better solve it today because somebody is definitely solving it tomorrow if you don't.

Please sign up for the Pogues concert above right. I am thinking if we go at all it oughta be on St. Patrick's Day. If we get a few names we can go in on tickets, unless it's already sold out.

12/2/05:Pigskin Primer

How to Watch Football, by Hans Bungle

1. Don't have a team. You can like certain teams more than others, but avoid liking any one team very much at all. Don't let your heart get caught up in the stupid fortunes of a football team. Isn't your emotional energy precious enough to avoid squandering it when some kicker misses a 34 yarder, causing your team to miss the playoffs? Save your tears and gut pain for something important, like your 12th viewing of Brian's Song, or when you find out that you can't have the cool new laptop you want.

2. Don't watch the whole game. Sure, sometimes there are great plays and developing subplots that make it interesting. But you really only need to watch the last four and a half game-time minutes (roughly 35 minutes of real time) to get the full football-watching experience. I recommend turning the game on sometime in the second quarter, promptly falling asleep, and then waking just as the drama begins in the 4th. The announcers will certainly fill you in on any stories you may have missed. Like ten times.

3. When you tune in to a game between two teams you don't care about or have never even heard of, root for whoever's losing. Curse at the TV when some QB you've never even heard of takes too long between plays as his team mounts a late drive. It's a healthy opportunity to vent, because within 2 minutes of the game's end you will no longer care about it.

I turned on the end of the Akron-Northern Illinois game on Thursday night. Winner of the game wins the MAC conference title and goes to a bowl game. Akron's NEVER been to a bowl game. 3 and a half minutes left, NIU up by 6, and Akron is driving. Unfortunately, their best receiver, a senior, is all cramped up Kellen Winslow-style on the sideline. He's apparently been in and out of the game several times, but he's finally left for good after getting battered on a kickoff return. He's just lying there shaking his head in misery, watching helplessly as the final moments of his career tick away. But his teammates are picking up the slack, and they get down to the NIU 30 or so. Then the QB throws high, the ball bounces off the receiver's hands and is picked off.

I'm bummed, I wanted them to pound it into the end zone in honor of Sir Crampalot. Now NIU just needs one first down to run out the clock. They don't get it, and Akron uses its timeouts wisely. After a long punt by NIU, Akron starts their last desperate drive at their own 30 or so with a minute forty-three on the clock. They start moving the ball again, marching across midfield, but they have no timeouts left and the seconds are floating away. Crampalot still can't come into the game. They get down to the NIU 36 with 17 seconds left. Just not enough time.

Suddenly, Crampalot limps onto the field. The announcers take note and circle him on the screen. What a great story. The senior, on the verge of physical collapse, willing himself onto the field in one last attempt to help his team. What drama. But can he even move well enough to be a threat?

They run the play. The QB pumps short, then lets fly with the bomb. The bomb? Yes, Bobby, the bomb. He's looking for Crampalot, who has somehow managed some separation from his defender. He might get there.

He gets there. TD. PAT. Victory. Hero. Go Zips!

Mega-enjoyable football-watching experience for Hans. I pretty much break down right there on the couch and begin to sob.

***

Tellin' you, we might transition over to verbungle future soon. Real soon. It's so damn easy compared to this bullshit.

I want to give overdue props to Mrsmal for her excellent work in the divorcedat competition from October 13th. I had completely forgotten about this particular challenge, and when you emailed me to see if you had won I thought you were asking about the breakup pool at the office (you didn't win that one, btw). Regardless, you get 17 points for being closest to the date of the split (you were only off by two days!) and another three for your predicted rationale:

November 21, so they don't have to fake spending Thanksgiving together.

That was spot on. 20 total points for a fine job.

The second word of the new lyricdat challenge is:

I'm

For your convenience, we will list the previous word as well:

Well

So that means that the song so far goes:

Well I'm

Solve away, douchies!