The "Mt. Rushmore" of Louisville Sports Figures

ESPN's Sportscenter is doing a feature called "The Mt. Rushmore of Sports". Apparently, you go online and vote for the four sports figures to represent your city, state, or geographical area. I don't know what happens after that because frankly, I lost interest.

But it did get me to think about who would be on Louisville's "Sports Mt. Rushmore". I chose just the city rather than the entire state of Kentucky because I didn't want any fucking University of Kentucky basketball players on the side of my imaginary mountain.

How does a Louisville sports legend make my list? It helps to have a statue.

Representing football, I'd have to pick Hall of Fame quarterback Johnny Unitas, who played at the University of Louisville. There's a statue of Johnny U in front of Papa John's Cardinal stadium, which means he'll forever be associated with terrible pizza and inept college football.

Louisville native Pee Wee Reese is in the Baseball Hall of Fame, but he's most famous for being the first member of the Brooklyn Dodgers to fully accept Jackie Robinson as a teammate. There's a statue of Pee Wee here in town, but I prefer the one in Brooklyn of him with Jackie.

Another Louisville native, Muhammad Ali, was by far the easiest choice for this list. He doesn't just have a lousy statue; he has a museum. The Ali Center is pretty cool, actually. If you're ever stuck in Louisville on business take a few hours and check it out. Don't worry, horny businessman, the strip clubs are open until 4am; there'll be plenty of time for that.

My last choice is the least-known of the group. Darrell Griffith led the University of Louisville basketball team to the 1980 National Championship. He then had a solid 11-year career with the NBA's Utah Jazz, who retired his number. I doubt few people outside of Louisville and Salt Lake City have heard of him, but he's a small 'g' god in this city. He was born here, he went to school here, and he moved back when he got rich. Also, he was the person who made it acceptable for black guys to jump over white guys. Yes, that's Darrell Griffith as a high school senior, playing an all-star game against a European team, jumping over a honkey.

You see, Louisville circa 1976 was thought of as a city where black guys shouldn't just go around jumping over white guys. Darrell Griffith and his legendary 48-inch vertical leap changed that forever. By the time I was in high school, black guys were constantly trying to jump over me. I took a few accidental shoes to the face, but it was a small price to pay so all people could be considered equal.

There isn't a statue of Griffith yet, but I'm hoping they'll put one in front of the colossal waste of resources better known as the new downtown arena, scheduled to open in November 2010. We'll have our 500 million dollar arena but not the resources to clear the roads leading to it when there's snow.

The Great Ice Storm of Aught-Nine (Updated)

A few nights ago it snowed. Then there was an ice storm. Then it rained. Then the rain froze. Then it snowed again. Drainage grates froze over, causing flash flooding. I've changed to a picture of a gas station in town trying to charge $6.89 for a gallon of gas. Nice. I'd like to cordially invite the owner of the station to suck all of our dicks. Ladies and all folks who are otherwise dickless, please don extra-veiny strap-ons so the owner can suck those, too.

Thankfully, after a call from the Attorney General's office, they lowered the price to a competitive $1.89. Thanks to these guys for the info.

The weight of all of that ice and snow caused tree branches and power lines to snap, putting about two hundred thousand people in the Louisville area without power.

Will this cause our power and gas monopoly to join the 21st century and put power lines underground? Of course not, because all they can do is collect money; they can't be bothered to spend it. Fuck them with John Dillinger's formaldehyde-preserved cock.

And while I'm ranting, fuck the city's half-assed snow and ice removal efforts. I just looked out the window and saw a plow go down my street. Good, right? No, it pushed the snow to the side of the road, trapping us all in our driveways, while leaving a dangerous layer of ice on the road. Thanks a fucking lot, city.

I don't ask for much, but will someone please give me two million dollars? I figure a million will get me a one bedroom condo in San Diego, and I can live on the other million. I can live there sometimes, live here sometimes, and crash for long periods at my brother's house, drinking all of his Fat Tire beer and putting a horrible strain on his marriage. Ummmm....freeloading.

Strike Two

"Here's your tampon, Shirley."

I want to start hiding feminine products under the counter at work. That way when a grown man buys something like fruit infused Mich Ultra, especially Pomegranate-Raspberry, I can say "Here's your tampon, Shirley."

That's why this post is titled "Here's your tampon, Shirley." In case you were wondering.

I was rejected by someone I had absolutely no interest in

The other night at work I was ringing up this lady's order. She had a bottle of Baker's bourbon, so I commented "That's a really good bourbon."

Her reply: "Yeah. My boyfriend told me it's pretty good."

She gave me the "I have a boyfriend" routine when I didn't care one way or the other. Really, I wasn't hitting on her. I don't usually hit on women at work because I'm afraid they'll "complain to management" or "spray me with mace". Oh, and because most of our customers, even the attractive ones, have dog shit where their souls should be.

I wanted to say "Oh no! A boyfriend? DAMN! I slyly mentioned the bourbon, hoping we could go back to your apartment, get drunk, and stink up your bedroom."

Guys, you know a woman finds you unattractive when she CAN'T WAIT to tell you all about her fabulous boyfriend. Needless to say, I know a hell of a lot about the boyfriends of almost every woman I casually encounter. If a twenty dollar bill fell out of a woman's purse and landed by my feet, and I picked up the money and said "Excuse me, you dropped this," the woman would say "Oh, thank you. I need it to buy giant-sized freak condoms for my monument-cocked boyfriend."

Abortion doughnuts for all!

Krispy Kreme decided to give away free doughnuts on Inauguration Day. No problem there, right? The lure of free fried dough should easily trump partisan rhetoric. Well, not quite.

In a press release, Krispy Kreme said they would be "honoring America’s sense of pride and freedom of choice on Inauguration Day, by offering a free doughnut of choice to every customer."

A pro-life group - I think they're called the Kansas Koathanger Koalition - took exception to Krispy Kreme's publicity-minded generosity. They issued their own press release: “The unfortunate reality of a post-Roe v. Wade America is that ‘choice’ is synonymous with abortion access, and celebration of ‘freedom of choice’ is a tacit endorsement of abortion rights on demand.”

Really? C'mon...really? Krispy Kreme is just trying to get people through their doors on a Tuesday in January. No one was thinking about abortion until these nutjobs mentioned it.

Customer: "Yeah...let's see. I'll have six crullers, and could you please terminate my pregnancy?"

Krispy Kreme employee: "If you buy a dozen doughnuts and a large coffee, your abortion is free."

Starbucks is also giving away free coffee. But is it really coffee, or pennyroyal tea? Are those baby killers at Starbucks trying to pour abortifacients down the throats of Amurrika's women folk? Small minds want to know.

Thanks to my friend Tits McGee, I've made my first film. Check it out.

What type of beer goes with hippie?

This past Sunday I met a few coworkers at my favorite brewpub. Everything was going as planned; I was drinking a delicious nitro porter and eating a bison burger when something. went. terribly. wrong.

One of my coworkers, out of the fucking blue, brought a hippie with him. Yeah, I was hippie-rushed. Although she was a damn hippie, at least she wasn't the dreaded Damn Dirty Hippie; because she didn't reek of patchouli or have filthy, matted cornrows. Maybe I got lucky and caught her on the one day of the calendar month she introduced water to her pits and groins, I don't know.

But just because my olfactory senses weren't funk-fucked doesn't mean she wasn't a hippie. Her dainty dress from the Laura Ingalls-Wilder collection at Sears gave her away, as did her enthusiasm for an upcoming Phish reunion tour.

Is it wrong that I pray for the Phish tour bus to explode in a way that makes the space shuttle Challenger disaster look like the neighborhood half-wit running down the street with a sparkler sticking out of his ass? Nobody who's ever held a job that didn't involve selling falafel wraps out of a tent would miss those noodling shit stains.

Despite the unwanted guest's objectionable taste in music, I was still managing to enjoy myself, because I'm nothing if not the picture of tolerance. If the beer is good, and it was, I can sit next to almost any society-draining layabout and pretend I don't want to replace her hacky sack with a live grenade. But then, when we were leaving the bar, she did it. She went all Hippie Hiroshima on my ass. As I was walking away from her she yelled out "Have a Grateful Day."

"Have a Grateful Day." She dropped a Grateful Dead pun on my fucking head. Jesus, couldn't the hippie just spout off an insincere "Have a nice day" like the rest of us? Did she have to reference the worst, smelliest band in the history of record music? SON OF A BITCH! It ruined my day, is what it did. I almost disabled the air bag and ran my car into a majestic oak just to get the sound of "Have a Grateful Day" out of my head.

The older I get, the more I realize there's something to be said for being a recluse.

Ann Coulter gets Obama-ized!

I've decided not to "Obama-ize" a picture of my brother. That decision was made because I love him, and not because he has a picture of me from my 11th birthday party wearing the ugliest shirt in the history of fashion. Really, that played no part in my decision.

Besides, Ann Coulter is so much more deserving. Let's look at a few of her quotes:

"The ethic of conservation is the explicit abnegation of man's dominion over the Earth. The lower species are here for our use. God said so: Go forth, be fruitful, multiply, and rape the planet — it's yours. That's our job: drilling, mining and stripping. Sweaters are the anti-Biblical view. Big gas-guzzling cars with phones and CD players and wet bars — that's the Biblical view." - So dumb and cunty on so many levels I'm not even going to bother with it.

"Democrats are always accusing us of repressing their speech. I say let's do it. Let's repress them. Frankly, I'm not a big fan of the First Amendment." - Of course, Ann said this when the Republicans controlled the White House and Congress. The biggest danger of being pro-censorship is the chance that one day your people won't be in charge. Suck on that, Coulter.

Well, I'm off to do God's bidding by raping the planet, so have a nice day.

I've Been Obamaized!

I submitted a picture to this site and this is what they came up with (I added the text). The original photo was taken by my cousin's lovely wife. It was Christmas day and I was holding up a glass of beer, which is why I chose "Drunk" as the caption. I didn't get drunk on Jesus' birthday, but I was pretty buzzed the next evening, so close enough.

I really like this image, because it makes me look MUCH cooler than I look in real life.

Once again, I weep for the future

Last night at work one of my cashiers briefly disappeared, as they like to do, so I had to ring up this young girl who stood vacantly in front of an unoccupied cash register. She was so into her cell phone conversation I don't think she realized no one was there, so I stepped in to once again save Stupid America from itself.

I was too late, folks. The one-sided conversation I heard almost caused my brain to liquefy and ooze out my nostrils like post nasal drip.

(Cooze on phone) "Yeah like I guess the job is like going okay, you know. Like today I guess the kids were all like making too much noise and like the principal like called me out to like the hall and told me to like make them be like all quiet and stuff."

Yes, this puddin'-for-brains is a teacher. She. Teaches. Children.

The couple in line behind her were already smirking at her fractured bimbo-speak. When I told them "She's a teacher", using a disapproving tone normally reserved for calling out crack whores, the looks on their faces combined amusement, sadness, and fear.

She may have heard us mocking her as she made her way toward the exit, but I doubt it since she was in the middle of that Mensa teleconference.

Hey, Emo Mike, who won the big game?

The University of Kentucky and the University of Louisville just played a game of basketball, and I'm going to let brand new Death Wore a Feathered Mullet correspondent Emo Mike tell you who won.



I'm a Louisville fan and I'm glad they won, regardless of how crappy they looked in the process. Emo Mike, however, didn't care either way. He cut himself not out of sadness because Kentucky lost, but as a bold statement against the exaggerated importance of sports in our superficial society; which in turn leads to our collective existence being ultimately worthless.

Emo Mike: Your one-stop party headquarters!

We interrupt the regularly scheduled post to laugh at Dane Cook's expense

I was going to talk about New Year's Eve and the end (thank God) of another holiday season, but I just read that Dane Cook's brother has been stealing loads of money from him. Come on, who cares how drunk I got or how annoying our customers were when Dane Cook's sibling is ripping him off?

Normally, I would be appalled that a family member was betraying a trust in such a blatant manner, but this is Dane Cook we're talking about. In my humble opinion, Dane Cook STOLE THIS MONEY FROM THE GULLIBLE PUBLIC, and his brother is just stealing it back.

I'm sorry, but I think it's hilarious that Dane's bro is taking money that Dane didn't deserve in the first place. I hope the guy wasted the cash on shiny trinkets, hardcore pharmaceuticals, and women of questionable character. It's what Dane would have done with the money, only in a much douchier way.

And I hope it didn't end there. I'd like to hear that he ate Dane's gourmet food and fucked Dane's hot girlfriends too. It would amuse me to know that "Do that thing your brother does!" is a sentence Dane Cook has heard more than once.

I'll write about the New Year's Eve festivities later in the week, but I do have time to mention one New Year's resolution I have. I resolve to be less petty and vengeful this year. Really, what good does it do to hold on to old grudges? Aren't we all just human beings trying to get by?