No matter how hard he apparently tries to wipe himself from the face of the Earth, Charlie Sheen simply won't go the fuck away. Whether it's weekend-long cocaine benders or drinking more booze in a day that most Irish villages consume in a decade, Charlie Sheen just won't get his drunk ass out of the spotlight.

Of course it all sort of came to a head last week when he called out his show's (Two and a Half Men) creator/producer Chuck Lorre as taking advantage of him. Of course that wasn't enough for the likely crazy and/or coked-up Sheen -- he went on to reveal Chuck Lorre's Hebrew name (in a rather ethnic-clurry kind of way) as Chaim Levine. The jury's still out on whether or not that part's even true but he ventured down the Mel Gibson Expressway with a borderline ethnic slur. And so what if Lorre changed his name for showbiz purposes -- Charlie Sheen's real name is actually Carlos Estevez. But crazy druggie Charlie Sheen wasn't done yet, he of course had to drag Warner Brother TV Studio into this. They were responsible for shutting down production of Two and a Half Men last week but Sheen accused them of profiting wildly from the immensely successful show which Sheen stars in.

Outside of the obvious reasoning that businesses exist to profit wildly from their employees, this isn't really news. Sheen receives in excess of $1.25 million per episode of Two and a Half Men so unless he spending that much on cocaine 24 times each year (that would be ALOT of blow) he is rather handsomely rewarded for his twenty-two minutes of acting each week for approximately half of the year.

But why is this news? Why does it effect me?

It's the ever-present, mind-numbing analysis of nearly every step of those who entertain the masses. It's supposedly news because we like a good trainwreck. It's a twisted way to think of things but plenty of people love to see someone famous self-destruct. Sure, the Dr. Phils of the world are standing by, eager to help the oh-so-troubled stars and starlets because they are so fucking important to the world as a whole. Here's a newsflash -- THEY AREN'T IMPORTANT AT ALL. How many big name stars made a huge impact on our TV-centered culture in the past five decades and just as quickly as they became popular, they faded into obscurity?

Even more important is why do I care? I care because, like so many others, I like to see the undeservingly privileged destroy themselves. Sheen, who seems to live out a sort of autobiography as a sex and booze addicted slacker in coastal southern California on Two and a Half Men, has this coming to him. I'd like nothing more that for his show to fall off the radar. He frolicks around with prostitutes and porn stars yet claims to love his family. He has beaten his wife and girlfriends in the past yet claims to be a family man who loves and provides for them. He is the worst type of hypocrite and while the supporting cast and crew of his CBS sitcom don't deserve the unemployment line, this needs to be the end of Charlie Sheen because the mere mention of his name both infurates and intensely interests me. I hate him because he's not acting, he's just being himself but I love seeing his death spiral.

Posted in Labels: CBS, celebrities, death, drugs, sex, stupid, TV 3 comments Posted by Sornie at Monday, February 28, 2011  

When I crawled out of bed early Sunday morning, I was surprised. Why? I was surprised that it wasn't already snowing. The weather terrorists down by the Iowa border (I was playing poker with some friends on Saturday) were in high gear pimping out the tragic details (ice, loss of electricity, 30 foot drifts, flying cows, etc.) of the impending snowstorm poised to barrel into the area around midnight.

Imagine my surprise then on Sunday morning when I peered out from the second floor of my grand estate to see not a single flake. I quickly blurted out that this was another miss from the weather terrorists. As I've said all winter, I'll believe it when I'm shoveling it.

I went about my day but soon I was proven wrong as the snow began falling. By late afternoon I ventured outside and began shoveling the entire length of the driveway. 45 minutes later it was somewhat clear but I knew, based on how fast the snow was falling, that I'd be revisiting this hellish driveway once again. After all, the city had only plowed my driveway shut once, they had at least two more times in them if not more.

Again around 8 PM I donned my snow gear and made a second, less complete effort at clearing the snow. Feeling like I was made of cooked spaghetti, I wasn't really feeling it. My heart wasn't in it and I just wanted to magically wish the snow away but after that failed I returned to my trusty shovel. This time there was a mere 4 or 5 inches as opposed to the 10 inches I encountered a few hours earlier. In a half-assed attempt, I made two semi-clear tracks through the snow, heaved the snowplow-induced drift out of the end of the driveway and in less than 30 minutes I was back inside to shed yet another pair of snow-encrusted jeans and finally relax. I knew that morning would test me yet again and I had no desire to even ponder what magical moments would await me come sunrise.

But after I popped my contact lenses in I noticed that it had virtually stopped snowing overnight. Had we really escaped with a mere 15 or so inches of new snow? I quickly backed my car from the garage and eventually made it to the grand highway.

That's where it became apparent to me that MNDOT was treating today (Presidents Day) as a holiday. As the majority of the country got to stay home, I still had to venture into the office. U.S. Highway 169 presented itself more as a rutted 1890s country road than a four-lane expressway. The loose snow was cleared, thankfully, but the ruts from the hard packed snow made my car handle like I was driving through a rock-filled ditch or the worst stretches of the Oregon Trail. My teeth clanked on each other and various items in and on my car rattled relentlessly. This was like some poorly thought out amusement park ride (maybe Toothchipper: The Experience!) but based on the number of cars I encountered it was still obviously a highway.

Whatever the case, I still arrived but I know too that MNDOT will have that same highway in pristine condition because that's just how it is here in Minnesota. It snows a foot and a half and 18 hours later the roads are mostly driveable and life returns to normal. So next time it snows 18 inches in some exotic locale like Indianapolis or Oklahome City just remember that it is not news. It happens and we move on.

Posted in Labels: Minnesota, snow, weather 2 comments Posted by Sornie at Monday, February 21, 2011  

That's the majority of the plan put forth today by Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton. While taxes are never popular -- and judging by the comments following the original article you'd think that each and every bickering and illiterate jackal commenting was in that new top income tax bracket -- they seem to be one of only a handful of ways out of the state's $6.2 billion deficit.

Any plan which Dayton proposes will be unpopular. He was left this mess thanks to Tim Pawlenty who opposed raising taxes in any way and by doing so created this huge deficit. But he remained popular because everyone hates taxes. I hate taxes, my neighbors hate taxes and my co-workers hate taxes but they are an inevitable part of living in the society we have built for ourselves.

But Mark Dayton's budget proposal only raises income taxes on the wealthiest 5% of Minnesotans. If $150,000 is the cutoff for the wealthiest 5%, we obviously live in a rather middle-class state. But the majority of the remaining 95% below that magical $150,000 income threshhold are scared. Their thinking is probably along the lines of "well, if Dayton raises the taxes on them, he'll get us next". But that would be political suicide for a man who won the election by a less than 10,000 vote margin.

"But it's redistribution of wealth!"

To those 5% whose taxes are poised to increase (a mere $1,000-$2,000 per person per some reports) and those who didn't vote for Dayton that's how they see it. To me it's a few who can afford to pay their share who will now pay their share. Oh sure, call me a communist but if you have an income of $150,000 and can't afford to pay an additional $2,000 per year, you are obviously living far beyond your means. For all the yelling about people living beyond their means causing the huge collapse of nearly everything in the past three or four years, they need to take a look in the mirrors and realize that those who help their neighbors will be rewarded in the end.

And best of all, Dayton is calling the tax hikes temporary. If it balances the budget in the end, then it's a job well done.

Posted in Labels: Minnesota, money, politics, taxes 0 comments Posted by Sornie at Tuesday, February 15, 2011  

I fail to understand how it's news that a young NFL quarterback (Mark Sanchez of the New York Jets) who is a good looking kind of guy ended up bedding an attractive, albeit illegal young lady on or around New Year's Eve.

That, though, is exactly the kind of scandal that keeps a site like Deadspin in the news. They, somehow, break what turns out to be rather scandalous sports scandals and the very fact that the nearly 25 year-old Mark Sanchez ended up taking a 17 year-old Eliza Kruger (notice her breaking a law herself by smoking a cigarette in this photo from her Facebook page) back to his home on a golf course in Jersey and throwing for a between-the-sheets touchdown with his jailbait piece of ass for the evening.

But back to why this is news. Athletes are notorious, no matter how clean-cut they appear, for being shady. The athletic landscape is full of scandals -- plenty of which have surfaced recently. Tiger Woods liked himself some porn stars, hookers and generally just liked having sex -- with anyone but his wife. Michael Jordan is alleged to have gambled on NBA games which is supposedly why he retired for just over one NBA season to try his hand at playing baseball. Half of the players in Major League Baseball have allegedly used some sort of steroids. Ben Roethlisberger was suspended for a portion of the NFL season for sexual assualt and we all know that it was actually rape. And who could forget our very own (for two years) Brett Favre who apparently likes texting photos of his good ole' Mississippi dong to former New York Jets massage therapists. So is anyone shocked that a guy who is famous, flush with cash and living a bachelor's life in the greater New York City area would have women, or in this case 17 year-old socialites, throwing themselves at him?

I know I'm not and I doubt that this story breaking nationally will do anything to truly change Sanchez's behavior nor will it do anything to the parents of Eliza Kruger who let their 17 year-old daughter smoke cigarettes and hang out in a club where she'd then be able to nail a professional athlete.

I don't know whose side to take in this story and I'm not sure that either party is anywhere close to innocent. In fact I'm pretty sure both of them is guilty but this will do nothing to tarnish Mark Sanchez's image and I'm sure it will do nothing to change the behavior of Eliza Kruger because something tells me that this isn't the first time either has done something or considered doing something along these lines.

Posted in Labels: NFL, sex, sports, teens 0 comments Posted by Sornie at Wednesday, February 09, 2011  

Are The Black Eyed Peas actually that bad or are the acoustics of Cowboy Stadium just not up to par for a concert-like setting. Either way, the performance of The Black Eyed Peas during tonight's Super Bowl 45 halftime show was the perfect display of how autotune has taken over popular music. From what I witnessed, none of the four-person group could carry a note, much less a tune.

While it was refreshing to see the NFL take a step back from the worn-out has-beens they've been subjecting fans to ever since Janet Jackson pulled out her crusty old nipple a few years ago, The Black Eyed Peas are a sorry excuse for what passes as music in today's culture. They are the epitome of everything that's wrong with the music industry, radio and the concert business. If I had paid money to see the Black Eyed Peas in concert, I would have demanded a refund of double the original ticket price. That display of talentless nobodies made famous by technology makes me almost yearn for the barely-alive presence of The Who from last year's Super Bowl halftime show.

Posted in Labels: music, NFL, sports 4 comments Posted by Sornie at Sunday, February 06, 2011  

Last night as I laid down in bed, I though of whipped cream. That, of course, led me to laugh a bit and that single thought about whipped cream led me to write this.

It all began a couple weeks ago when I bought a quart of Kemps whipping cream. A dessert I was making called for it and I fully intended to make this particular dessert by the books. Well, after making that dessert and another dessert this week I was left with more than half of the original quart of Kemps whipping cream. The question in my head was this: do I continue making desserts which call for whipped cream or do I find another, more fun way to use this whipped cream.

It's widely know that some women like to show off a whipped cream bikini for their significant other but that usually involves an aerosol can of Redi-Wip of some equivalent of that particular brand. It could be for ease of use or it could be for texture but the aerosol whipped cream is the go-to choice for not just whipped cream bikinis but for other various forms of sex play which is best carried out on a washable tarp or rubber bed sheets.

I'm thrifty though so I wondered if anyone has ever whipped up a bowl full of whipped cream made from a quart container of Kemps whipping cream. What's the process there? Does the gentleman spoon generous heaps of whipped cream on to his significant other's lady bits? I have to think that the woman in this scenario would likely be turned off not only by her man's thriftiness but by the awkward vision of the whole thing.

There's absolutely nothing erotic about someone holding a wooden spoon full of whipped cream, piling mountains of it on to another's body. Sure, home-whipped whipped cream is straight-up delicious but it doesn't have the cling factor of its aerosol sibling. There are multiple items involved with distributing the non-aerosol whipped cream. First off you'd likely have a metal mixing bowl of whipped cream on the nightstand. Then there's the whole matter of the giant wooden spoon to transfer the whipped cream from the bowl to the quivering, anxious lady bits. It's gonna get messy and that whipped cream is probably just going to slide off her lady bits as it comes in contact with her 98.6 degree skin. You'd either have to use the spoon or your hands to distribute the whipped cream in to anything resembling a bikini form. Again, not erotic at all. Plus in this scenario, the creation of the whipped cream bikini from something akin to Kemps whipping cream becomes a two-person operation.

While the whipped cream made from Kemps whipping cream may be better used for straight-up foreplay in a more horizontal setting, it's still going to be awkward and you, as the man in the relationship, are going to come across as cheap and probably both awkward and stupid. For this Valentine's Day, I recommend sticking with the tried and true Redi-Wip and, for once, spend a bit more for a superior and more versatile product.

Posted in Labels: food, holiday, sex 0 comments Posted by Sornie at Thursday, February 03, 2011