Friday, April 16, 2010


Roethlisberger should be in jail, at least. Police had less evidence on Mike Tyson, but can't even manage to arrest this piece of crap. The NFL is not above the law. I'm sick of superstar athletes like Ray Lewis and Ben Roethlisberger getting away with horrible crimes because they put score objects in the score zone better than the average ball player. These guys are just ball players, nothing more.

Picks for Saturday


Pavlik over Martinez by KO in the 5th round

Bute over Miranda by Decision


Henderson over Shields by Decision

Lawal over Mousasi by KO in the first round

Aoki over Melendez by Submission in the 3rd round

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Berto vs. Quintana

Quintana will win by decision by outranging the Haitian. This pick is late in coming, but well before the opening bell.

Sunday, April 04, 2010

Rest In Peace

I'm going to write this a couple hours early. Kurt Cobain meant a lot to me; his end came just a week after the beginning of mine. He was beautiful and pure, too pure for us. I understand why he did what he did, but I still wish he didn't. Physical pain isn't good for people at all. Some will say it adds character; I disagree. Pain kills feelings. When I had my root canal without number as a four-year-old kid, I learned that lesson. I didn't cry, and I didn't pass out from the pain. My looming memory of that procedure is the smell of ozone as the drill struggled to dig further into my face. People respond differently to extreme pain. My friend Nick just takes it. I complain, but secretly love the challenge. Kurt Cobain didn't deal with it well; his music says it better than I ever could.

Haul out all your old Nirvana records, and listen closely. That guy spawned imitators and admirers throughout the nineties. He's a bit of an old hat for kids today, but he was important to me. He remains important in my memories. He's simultaneously the best memory of my youth and my worst. His music helped shape me, and lead me away from his own folly. I never smoked, drank, or did any drugs: the delicate parts of my soul I wanted to keep wanted relief from knuckles, the lash, and the emerging demons in my head. Drugs would have kept those parts numb, but would destroy me in the end. I built a prison in black leather to keep everything separate and stable. I planned everything as well as I could, but still wound up with a gun in my mouth. Fate saved me for something later, maybe this.

I don't think I'll ever forget him. I would love to have called him brother here, but that never happened. Maybe I'll catch up with him later, but for now, I just hope he has some peace, love, and understanding wherever his pain calls home.