Slamming martinis and screwdrivers, then chicken fucking ... a typical Friday night. And all courtesy of Stickam. Naturally, I didn't wake up in time for football practice. Goddamnit. I'm too old for this sort of nonsense. Or not.

Sample of dialogue:

Bill: "I'm hungry."
Alan: "Do you want .......... some cock?"

Other observations:

1. If you haven't seen Heavy Metal, then Heavy Metal 2000 won't make much sense.

2. Civic hatchbacks are not cooler than BMWs, regardless of anything.

3. At least six times, I participated in an outside smoke break with neither a cigarette nor a coat. Pure genius, that.

4. Drunks who stagger home from Hank III concerts and blow everyone off are lame chodes, and not evil enough for my tastes.

5. The squid was getting the full drunken affection. I'm calling it out.

The best Pink Flamingos lines from last night:

1. We just wondered where you were planning to spread your V.D. today, that's all, hussy!

2. Murder merely relieves tension, Mr. Curzan.

3. Connie Marble, you stand convicted of assholeism!

4. The Egg Man didn't do it, Babs! I KNOW the Egg Man didn't do it!

5. Mm, God, I love you more than the sound of bones breaking, the sound of death rattle.

6. Oh my God Almighty! Someone has sent me a bowel movement!

7. Eat the bird, bitch!

8. You can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, Miss Sandstone.

9. Kill everyone now! Condone first degree murder! Advocate cannibalism! Eat shit! Filth is my politics! Filth is my life!

10. You fucking little dingleberry! That's what you're like, you fucking ball of shit!

This entry brought to you by Noodle, Babs Johnson, Channing, Cotton, Crackers, Connie and Raymond Marble and Edie the Egg Lady.

Secretary of State and Cleveland Browns fan Condi Rice was in Britain today, doing whatever it is that secretaries of state do, and she was booed at several locations and accused of war crimes by protesters.

Why should we possibly give a fuck what Europeans think? They've been responsible for more death and carnage in the past several centuries than just about anyone else -- and a good chunk of it through amoral apathy and the noxiousness of pacifism.

And when it comes down to making the proper moral decision about a situation, what side do they usually fall on?

Where did national socialism originate? What about communism? Those two diseases resulted in the death of hundreds of millions of people.

By the late 1930s, the chants in Britain boiled down to "No war for Jews" and "No war for Czechoslovakia" and "No war at all." There wasn't popular support prior to September 1939 to even defend ally Poland. It was no secret that Jews were being oppressed and killed, and Hitler's intent for expansion was mapped out in Mein Kampf. When he got around to doing it, no one resisted.

Since the end of the Second World War, Europe blossomed into one fat and sassy collection of socialized nations, where benefits and health care were basically supplied for free by the state. How did they pay for that? Because they have grazed in the shadow of American military might. What kept the Soviet horde at bay was the U.S. Army's presence for 50 years in Germany. The stated goal of Soviet communism was expansion, and it looked longingly at Western Europe. We spent billions, and they didn't have to for their own protection.

As long as our troops where there, those nations didn't have to spend on defense. Today, every single European nation's military is smaller than our Marine Corps (except Russia, I believe). On one hand, it's good Europe has lost its militant, bloodthirsty urges (although they simmer not too far below the surface), but they also seem to have lost all memory of what doing nothing about evil gets you.

Those people were able to boo Rice and chant about war-mongering America because thousands of American soldiers died long ago on their fields. This nation rose to the challenge when Europe had allowed itself to fall under the Nazi and Stalinist boot. And we learned the lesson of not waiting until it's too late to act. Europe no longer remembers.

This entry brought to you by the ghosts of Belleau Wood, Kasserine Pass, Anzio, Normandy, Eindhoven, Nijmegen, Malmedy ...

Even more random gibberish ...

1. Arby's switched to Pepsi products this week. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit, but they the switch included moving to sugar-free lemonade. This is distressing because it tastes awful. And since I eat at Arby's 14 times a day, this is bad news. If I wanted a diet drink, I'd ask for one. I didn't, yet I'm being forced to because my drink selection is limited. I'll have to double-team from now on -- Arby's for my food, McDonald's for the 'ade.

2. I had the most bizarre dream this morning. I was a reporter again, walking down a school building hallway with other reporters. Don't know where I was going. A bunch of Canadian SWAT-team type cops were in the hallway, laughing about something. I asked, and they said they just shot and killed a farmer in one of the classrooms. Farmers were on strike, and one was in one of the rooms. I don't know why. The other reporters didn't seem all that interested. I didn't have a notebook, so I was taking notes on my arm. When I thought I had enough information, I went into another classroom to write the story. As I was going in, San Diego Chargers coach Marty Schottenheimer was coming out. He was we'd be running the story at the bottom of the page because it wasn't that important. I am very confused by all this.

3. I might have the flu.

4. I'm getting a haircut today because I look like an out-of-control Chia-Pet.

5. The car cost me $853 to repair (atop $400+ last month). Both rear bushing were mangled, both rear shocks were done, and a rear control arm was bent. Rides great now, but they better fix awful 24th Steet soon so all this cash I pissed away on the Krap-Wagen isn't wasted.

6. Totino's has introduced "lean" pizza rolls. Forty-percent less fat, they say, and the "same great taste." Unlike they Arby's lemonade debacle, they're not stretching the truth too far. They did taste about 90% the same. Dunno if I'll stick with them. Pizza rolls and Arby's makes up 90% of my diet.

7. The Pirates are in pads and helmets. We're a week away from the season-opener at Battle Creek. It's going to be a route. Port Huron is the 1997 Florida Marlins -- a team constructed solely to win a championship right now. A good idea since these leagues usually last a season. And my name is finally on the updated roster.

This entry brought to you by forlorn sugar.

More random nonsense ...

1. A guy called the City Desk on Monday and wanted to know who voiced Mister Magoo. Easy: Jim Backus. Why do I know what?

2. I'm getting a little into Franz Ferdinand. The Scottish band, not the dead Austrian archduke gunned down by in 1914 Gavrilo Princip to spark World War I. Perhaps we'll see future bands William McKinley, James Garfield, Anwar Sadat and Jean-Paul Marat?

3. Stickam rules. Thanks, Digi.

4. I throw a football in the morning, it's weak and off target. At 11 p.m., it's tight and pin-point. What gives?

5. The NCAA tournament is about to climax in a crescendo of useless bullshit. I don't like college basketball. It would take a serious effort for me to give a shit about George Mason's run to the Final Four.  The sole use of the NCAA is to give me something to bitch about until football season arrives. People who get into the tournament are the same sort who are devoted to American Idol.

6. Wednesday's front page will feature a centerpiece written by me. I covered the City Council meeting Monday night. Tomorrow is a story on federal grant funding drying up. Where do I find the time you ask? I don't.

7. I prefer Sherman and Peabody over Magoo.

8. The CD player has moved on to The New Pornographers. Good stuff. But I'm still very partial to The Killers.

9. I bought from low-fat Pizza Rolls from Super K. They promise the "same great taste" as the original. We'll see. I'm sure it's a lie. Pizza Rolls and Arby's are my two food groups.

10. I had something funny for this one, but forgot. It's 4 a.m. Time to read a bit, then sleep. Rest of the week is going to be busy. And wicked.

This entry brought to you by the WABAC machine.

I signed not one, but three autographs Monday night. Yep, it's official: I am a Port Huron Pirate. Sure, it's last-string quarterback on injured reserve, but who's counting? One of the players brought his three kids, and they went around with team posters to each table, asking for autographs. Everyone was happy to oblige.

The team met at Goodfellas in Marysville for dinner, official pictures, helmet fitting and more. It was obvious from the get-go that there's camaraderie among these guys, and I started to feel at home quickly. All the crude humor and ribbing that I'd known long ago was evident. The boys were having a good time.

What they were not having a good time with was the clause at the back of our playbook/rulebook that clearly states "No fraternizing with the dance team." That was received with boos and catcalls, and likely will be ignored. I sat at a table next with the very hilarious Bausley, Ed, LeRoy, T-Bone and RayShawn and had a blast. We were next to the two tables of Sirens dancers, too, so the humor was top-notch.

This is going to be fun. And these guys can play. RayShawn Askew holds an embarrassing number of indoor football records. We have players from the University of Michigan, Purdue, Southern Cal, West Virginia, etc. This could be a championship team.

Best of all: I get to wear No. 19.

This entry brought to you by The Boys' Club, Port Huron Chapter.

It's 3:45 a.m., and I'm calling it quits tonight on World of Warcraft. Stupid game ate my entire Sunday, except for a brief respite to watch Browns developmental quarterback Lang Campbell (of William & Mary fame; que Steely Dan's My Old School) lead the Berlin Thunder past the Amsterdam Admirals 33-29 on the NFL Network.

Campbell, signed as a free agent prior to last season, finished the day 16-of-26 for 139 yards, including a 27-yard scoring pass to Rich Musiniski in the second quarter.

I finished the day as a ninth-level human paladin still learning the finer points of the game. I teamed up with a couple other people to take down Hogger. I got some seriously nifty chain mail underpants for that. My character, Steely Dan (see a theme here?) as we speak is sleeping at the Golden Lion Inn. If I get time after work, it's off to kill some young bears and wolves, and other assorted quests. I need friends and need to learn how to improve my fighting abilities. I can't recall the name of the mace-like weapon I'm using, but it looks like a giant fucking hammer. It averages something like 20 hit points, or whatever the nerds call it when it strikes a baddie. And I need more cash.

Color me shocked to learn that one gold piece is worth 10,000 copper pieces. Christ. No wonder people are buying gold offline for real cash. Killing murlocs to get 8 pieces of copper and some palm fronds is not cutting it.

My life is hard enough without pixelated strife and economic woes.

This entry brought to you by the thirty-five sweet goodbyes.

So yesterday, before I bought World of Warcraft, I got some stuff an Meijer, including the book The Last Templar, which I've wanted to read because I'm into that sort of thing. The uber-nerd at the register had some problem with the price sticker, and while waiting to get it cleared up, he says something about wanting to buy the book once he could afford it. It was on sale for $18 (hardback). He works there, so presumably he gets a discount. How can he not afford an $18 that he'll like pay only $15 for? Is Mom charging too much rent for the basement? The guy fit every description of a nerd -- a walking stereotype. "Did you know the Templars were real?" he asks. No shit, Poindexter. The basis of his intellect was a Discovery Channel special (likely in between late-night flicks on Skinemax).

Later that night, after spending hours installing the game, and waiting for them to fix a server bug, I started playing -- and got way too into it. I didn't get offline until 7:30 a.m. Yikes. I spent hours slaying timber wolves, kobolds and getting my arse kicking by freaks wearing red bandannas.

All through school, we made fun of kids who played Dungeons & Dragons and talked about their hit points and goblins and shit. Now, I'm owner of a 6th-level human paladin and I get excited over a pair of boots I earned for killing those little kobold fuckers, with Wikipedia describes as "a race of ratlike burrowers, who often appear as villains. However, the games also include goblins and gnomes, and the three races fit the same rough pattern (diminutive race which is skilled in early technology). Kobolds are less developed than gnomes and goblins. In World of Warcraft, Kobolds are low level enemies generally found in caves and mines."

Ain't that the truth? Wiki goes on to say, "Kobolds are spirits of German folklore. The name comes from the German word kobalt or kobold meaning "evil spirit", and is often translated in English as goblin. ... Another type of kobold, more similar to the gnome, haunts mines and other underground places. The name of the element cobalt comes from kobold, after the poisonous and troublesome nature of the typical arsenical ores of this metal (cobaltite and smaltite) which polluted other mined elements (compare nickel)."

Then this tidbit:

"Kobold is also the name of a watch company specializing in high end luxury watches aimed at polar explorers. Their flagship watch, Polar Surveyor dominates the small polar expedition niche."

You're shitting me, right? How large is the polar explorer market that it can have high-end watches devoted to it? Who sits around and comes up with that idea? "Gee, I bet Adm. Byrd wished he had a fine-ass timepiece when he was freezing his ass off. A little wrist bling to pass those long nights among the sea lions and polar bears."

This entry brought to you by arctic kobolds who always are on time.

If you needed additional proof that God, if it exists, not only hates me, but likes fucking with me:

I succumbed to my inner geek today and bought World of Warcraft. I've never been into the fantasy thing (outside of this juicy little dream involving Kirsten Dunst and a piano), but this looked like fun and had the Dave Chappelle stamp of approval. It's one of those games where you play online against literally millions of other people. Always wanted to try one, and this one is supposed to be the cream of the crop.

So, I spend 90 minutes installing the 5 CDs and downloading the updates. I'm ready to get online and kill orcs, or whatever you do, but what happens?

The servers go down. A little message from the game maker says it won't be back up for a couple of hours.

Goddamnit. Why does this nonsense bullshit happen to me? And why all the time? Now I don't have time to sit around and play it. I've got to go back into work and edit Progress stories that were supposed to be done a month ago.

The entry brought to you by Dave Chappelle's self-imposed exile in Azeroth.

Random thoughts from a very tired editor:

1. It's St. Patrick's Day. I'm wearing blue, and a ball cap emblazoned "ENGLAND." I am not Irish, despite my last name, and I'm certainly not Roman Catholic. Hence, I do not celebrate papist holidays. I am a Welsh/English Protestant. Deal with it. "Oh, c'mon, it's just fun!" you say? Would you tell a Jew to celebrate Easter? No? Then don't expect me to engage in this commercialized papist orgy of drinking. Next year, I'm getting an orange sweatshirt -- orange being the color of Protestants -- and have something printed on it that let's the world know I am not Irish, not even for a day.

2. On Monday, I officially become the last-string quarterback of the Port Huron Pirates. I'm meeting the owner to sign the paperwork, and team pictures are that night. I get No. 19. And I go right on injured reserve, which is safest for me, and for the team's chances.

3. It's NCAA tournament time, and I could not care less. Yeah, I filled out a bracket, with Ohio State winning it all. But I simply have never been into college basketball. Between that and the anti-St. Patrick's stuff, I'm quite the pariah.

4. The BMW just cost me $404.10 in repairs. The oxygen sensor went out in grand style, taking a gasket with it. All the bolts holding the exhaust system and the heat shield let loose, too. That's all fixed, but we're not done yet! The rear shocks are finished, and one of the control arms in the rear is bent, so that's another $500 in fixes next week. Goddamn German cars. How the hell did they roll over Poland and France so quickly if this is their craftsmanship? I'm keeeeeding!

5. On the bright side, the Donald Fagen concert was splendid. Look for my review of it, and Fagen's new solo CD Morph the Cat, next week in Spin.

6. The Browns continue to astound me in free agency. Outside linebacker Willie McGinest is in the fold. Wow. He's a game breaker and gives the team instant credibility. I'm thinking playoffs. Read my thoughts on things thus far at The OBR: Doc Gonzo: Idylls of the Kingmaker

7. I've been locked out of my stupid MySpace account. Not worth my time, Tom. About the only feature on there I liked was the calendar.

8. Haven't been back to work out since supervised physical therapy ended Monday. That's wrong and stupid on so many levels. I'm going tomorrow. I have to. Between football and biking, I should drop 30 lbs this year. Good ol' Kurt did call to see how I am doing. Fine, thanks. Muscles still need built up around the knee, which gives out occasionally, but it's 200% better.

9. If there's one thing I care about less than the NCAA tournament, Art Modell's health or rampant faux Irishness, it's American Idol. Not interested, never will be. It's masochistic exhibitionist narcissism combined with malignant voyeuristic cruelty.

10. Ghost Recon 3 for the PC has been delayed until late May. That sucks. If there's one game I will climb over your mother's corpse for, it's that one. In the meantime, I'm going to try the new Star Wars game. I'm a geek like that. Haven't played a computer game in months.

11. Gannett did not buy Knight-Ridder, but my money says McClatchey sells off some of its titles to Big G.

12. Speaking of which, I was supposed to call Dan on Friday, and utterly forgot. Senility? Nope, overloaded on work. Sorry!

This entry brought to you by expatriate Irish snakes.

My goddamn barber up and quit. Walked right off the job, I'm told, because the shop he worked at instituted a no-smoking policy for its staff. They all smoked in the back room. Do you know how hard it is to find a barber these days that can do a proper buzz cut? Most hair cutters today are "hair sylists" that can't do it, and have no idea how. I don't live close to a military base, where these sort of cuts are common. And I don't wanna find some 90-year old barber with rheumy eyes that's likely to give me a Gomer Pyle do, or worse. Christ.

Is this a stupid thing to be pissed about? Probably. But my hair grows fast, and I look like Eraserhead if I don't keep it in check. And my head lends itself naturally to a faded buzz -- imagine a Flowbee working over a Chia-Pet. Plus, it keeps the cost of shampoo down for me.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. It's all I seem to do anymore. If there's good news, it's that my last day of supervised physical therapy is Monday. After that, it's six weeks on my own at Birchwood. I'm cleared to ride my bike again, so if the weather's OK this weekend, I'm on that bad boy.

NFL free agency is about to begin, after weeks of labor drama among obscenely rich people. The Browns had better make some serious moves, or I'll write a nasty blog entry no one will read. My wish list for them is:

1. Aaron Kampman, a defensive end from Green Bay. Instant pass-rush upgrade.
2. Kalimba Edwards, a defensive end from Detroit who could play outside linebacker for Cleveland.
3. Maake Kemoeatu, Baltimore's massive nose tackle. He'd make the 3-4 work right.
4. Bart Scott, Baltimore's young stud linebacker. Youth, talent, and it would hurt the Ravens.
5. Joe Jurevicius, Seattle's possession wide receiver. A veteran to mold Braylon Edwards.
6. One of these linebackers: LaVar Arrington (Washington), Julian Peterson (San Francisco) or Will Witherspoon (Carolina). All worry me a little over the long run, but if one could be had cheap ...
7. LeCharles Bentley, a center from New Orleans who could play guard. His presence would make an average line better.
8. David Givens, the wide receiver from New England. Dennis Northcutt may get cut, and with Edwards still healing, this is a wide pick up.

Oh, well. Just a wish list. If they could afford all those players, Cleveland would be a serious contender in 2006. But c'mon, it's Cleveland, right? Always a fumble away from ignominy.

More later. Time for work, then more work, and some work after that.

This entry brought to you by the NFLPA.