Real Music: Whatever

Song of the week?

No.

Song of the month?

Not even.

Song of the new millennia?

You betcha.

So take literally 90 seconds for a temporary escape from all of your preoccupations and listen to a song by an eccentric artisan named Liam Lynch. You just might learn about the attitude required to handle what life throws at you.

Happy birthday... to me

I entered the world 35 years ago today.  So to commemorate this marvelous occasion, here's a pic from way back during the poor ol' days when I lived in the Raleigh neighborhood of Memphis, Tennessee.

I was a cute kid.  Still am.

On the fashion tip

c/o The San Francisco Examiner

Better known for his trademark beard, San Francisco Giants relief pitcher Brian Wilson showed off his fashion sense with a spandex "tuxedo" at the 19th annual ESPY awards in Los Angeles six days ago.

Sunday's Quote: Even if they're not perfect . . .

c/o History.com's Teddy Roosevelt gallery

There was a time, not that long ago, when a man could speak of his hero without having to also concern himself with making the immediate transition to defend his exemplar of choice in lieu of those who grudgingly object.  As if the belligerent is on some sort of mission, such disputes have become more common amid this often stomach-turning age of antipathy.  Still the irony comes, by and large, when such individuals reveal his/her own personal group of idols, most of whom ordinarily represent the antithesis of those who personify the spirit of Americana.

Here's an example from my own personal set of esteemed paradigms:

Theodore Roosevelt was our 26th President.  But unlike most of the 18 men who followed, the man who disliked being called "Teddy" was considerably more than a politician.  Descended from two uncles who served in the Confederate army, Roosevelt was a northerner by birth and a devoted student of natural history from his adolescence who grew from a frail youngster into the definition of masculinity.

Both an author and a soldier, Roosevelt became more famously identified as a "Rough Rider" and a "Bull Moose."  Likewise a Judo brown belt under Yamashita Yoshiaki and a steadfast supporter of the Boy Scouts – now considered prejudiced in the eyes of some – who pursued "the strenuous life" almost to his dying day, each notable achievement in his life of public service was indicative of the Big Stick diplomacy he advocated that ultimately etched his countenance alongside Washington, Jefferson and Lincoln on Mount Rushmore.

Though it's easy to forget that he is the first American to win a Nobel Prize, even fewer seem to recall that Roosevelt once spoke for a full 90 minutes after he was shot – literally shot in the chest earlier that same day – by a would-be assassin.  To paraphrase the man himself, it takes a lot more than a silly little bullet to kill a Bull Moose.

In over 60 years, various surveys and scholars have yet to rank TR lower than seventh all-time among the elite fraternity of men who have held the highest office in the land.  A devout Christian, Roosevelt's brand of progressivism differs noticeably from the kind employed by liberal Democrats today.  In fact most contemporary progressives would object (as I do) to the picture of Roosevelt above, as there is rarely a legitimate reason to kill a vulnerable animal in the wild.

Imperfections notwithstanding, the best of those who shaped our exceptional nation remain worthy of acclaim because of what they exemplify and inspire.  Those who object only succeed in exposing their own biases held in the deepest recesses of their misguided convictions.

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"They wouldn't be heroes if they were infallible, in fact they wouldn't be heroes if they weren't miserable wretched dogs, the pariahs of the earth, besides which the only reason to build up an idol is to tear it down again."

– Lester Bangs (1948-1982), music critic, journalist and author

Sunday's Quote: Howard Stern

c/o Hot Read Sports

Protagonists say Howard Stern is a valiant champion of the First Amendment whose resolve for delving into largely offensive themes and subject matters has become the trademark of a radio program that will likely never be equalled.  Stern's legion of detractors insist that he merely possesses an unconscionable drive to draw from a bottomless well of social outcasts who evidently don't have the self-esteem to realize they're being exploited, which is matched only by Stern's legendary willingness to expose himself in every imaginable way.

Whatever the case, the often larger-than-life antics that initially drove the show -- practically to the brink, no less -- are what turned the Queens, NYC native into a celebrity whose legend is still being written.  As luck would have it, that celebdom ultimately propelled his show into becoming the flagship of the once-fledgling Sirius XM satellite radio.  Yet despite his many successes, viewing Howard as an exemplar of the First Amendment seems a stretch, as it remains unreasonable to believe the Founding Fathers inserted Freedom of Speech into the Constitution so anyone such as Stern would be enabled to spew a brand of verbal pornography that even his most steadfast devotees sometimes struggle to defend.

Toward the end of his 30-year run on terrestrial radio, Stern claimed he hadn't fully implemented the kind of show he had wanted to do in a decade.  As it turns out, many listeners and advertisers frown upon games like "Lord of the Anal Rings."  Still Howard is not a man devoid of talent and congeniality.  His interviews with exercise magnate Jack LaLanne, former Lynyrd Skynyrd drummer Artimus Pyle and Senator Arlen Specter, among several others, were mostly respectful.  Yet the self-described "beast" inside of him, which has kept Stern in psychiatric therapy for over 10 years, will always bring Howard back to his obstinately provocative roots.

Perhaps fronting a radio program that allows for the perpetual rehashing of innumerable life traumas has worked to his benefit.  But judging from the quotes below -- originally collected by yours truly during the week of September 27, 2004 for a project that was eventually scrapped -- one has to question the kind of show Stern aspired to host, prior to his departure for satellite radio, if the FCC didn't allow for a leash long enough to suit his preferences.  Maybe that question is answered by a list of his current advertisers, which includes AshleyMadison.com (adultery-on-demand website), Cheaterville.com (the opposite of AshleyMadison.com), and something called "Fresh Balls" (you can figure that one out yourself), which makes his Last of a dying breed farewell speech on December 16, 2005 more pretentious and comical than triumphant.

But I'll let you be the judge.

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Note: You are likely to be offended by at least some of what you are about to read.

* "I'm wearing these tighter, sexier jeans, but I don’t know whether my balls are sweaty or what, but I've got bat-wings going majorly... I want to put talc on my balls, but I'm afraid of cancer.  I know there's some sort of powder like cornstarch you can use for your balls... Wouldn't there be more warning about your balls getting full of cancer from talc if that was true?  Like wouldn't you read that more often? ... I'm constantly trying to get my bat-wings off my leg."
– Stern expressing concern over his repulsive testicles

* "Did you take anything off? ... Did Jenna take anything off? ... [Did] you just start, like, rubbing against each other and stuff? ... Did you feel her boobs? ... And she felt yours? ... Did she touch you below? ... So did she touch you under the bra, or were you not wearing a bra? ... Did you get, like, aroused? ... Was your underwear wrecked?"
– Some of Stern's questions to television personality, Jillian Barberie, regarding her encounter with porn star, Jenna Jameson

* "Yeah what about that?  How about that?  How about getting naked in the studio and letting me bang you hard? ... Do you talk a lot in bed when a guy's doing you? ... Like 'f-me hard'? ... Still using a vibrator?  Imagine if I gave it to you hard. ... I got enough man meat for you.  I got enough man meat for all you girls. ... I had sex with my girlfriend last night, she had two orgasms."
– More questions and comments from Stern's interaction with Jillian Barberie

* "...and no fake boobs, I like it... I'm not a big fake boob guy... You've done threesomes? ... So you’re saying you would have a relationship with me that would be purely sexual... So how could I take you up on this?  Let’s say I want to have sex with you... But now seeing me here live in person, do you feel maybe you don’t want to have sex with me? ... Oh I'd ride the Perry train, hard and fast. ... When did you have sex with the chick? ... Were you drinking?  Were you doing pot?  Were you doing hash?  Ludes? ... Making a lesbian move is interesting. ... You mean, giving a woman oral [sex], you tend to be good at it... And then you did the guy?  The both of you did the guy? ... When was the last time you had sex? ... If I was a hot chick, I’d just go out get some sex. ... You got a little vibrator?  What, you got the pocket rocket? ... What about your rear-end?  Is there any fun going on back there? ... Do you ever have any fun back there?"
– Some of Stern’s questions and comments directed at VH1 personality, Rachel Perry

* "I used to pleasure myself to her ten times a day."
– Stern referring to his admiration of the original "Catwoman," Julie Newmar

* "Yeah, I'd bang her hard."
– Stern commenting on "According to Jim" actress, Courtney Thorne-Smith

* "We're gonna work on getting the 'World's Largest Hemorrhoids Contest' on there, too."
– Stern referring to an upcoming contest that was to appear on his E! Channel show

* "Imagine me sitting there, waiting for my erection.  Hours, hopelessly waiting."
– Stern scuttle-butting about the "low cost Viagra" e-mail spam he frequently receives

* "The religious Right owns him, and he likes it.  He bends over for them, and he is their bitch."
– Stern glossing about George W. Bush prior to the 2004 presidential election

* "I wonder if those Desperate Housewives do anal."
– A comment Stern was apparently inspired to make just as "Desperate Housewives" star Teri Hatcher was to make an appearance on his show

* "G-d damn, you look luscious. ... I might consider having sex with you. ... Did I blow it when I sent you that sexual e-mail?  Did that do us in? ... Your body looks awesome. ... When's the last time you had sex? ... How hot must it be, Teri Hatcher is like in her room at night, has no man.  She gets completely nude, she's spread eagle and doing the vibrator to herself.  How hot is that? ... As far as I'm concerned, you can never be too thin.  If you were my girlfriend, you’d weigh four pounds. ... You have the most perfect set of boobs I've ever seen in my life. ... Are they fake?  Did you get a lift? ... You're a C-cup, right? ... I wanna know what I'm in for when I finally have sex with you. ... I was so busy bangin' women after my divorce, I accidently, I think, might've even banged my ex-wife.  I don't even know. ... Would you ever go lesbo with any of them ["Desperate Housewives" co-stars] ... Did you use a vibrator while you were married? ... Anal beads? ... So you went out and bought a gangsta dildo... Would you ever wear high heels if I had sex with you?  Negligees?  Dress up?  We could videotape one another granted that we erase it? ... Oh man, I'm so aroused. ... Hey Teri, you wearing panties?  G-string? ... Oh would I have just banged you so hard. ... When I'm doing you and stuff, let's keep the kid out of it."
– Some of Stern's comments to "Desperate Housewives" star, Teri Hatcher

And one final thought from the man himself:

"I've got a real f--king issue.  I'm mentally ill, I know that."
– Howard Stern, from his April 2006 interview in Entertainment Weekly

Did You Know (or Care): Athletes and their families

Former University of Nebraska cornerback and New York Giants first round selection Prince Amukamara has five sisters.  They are named Passionate, Peace, Precious, Princess, and Promise.

Also, a recent feature about Utah Jazz forward Andrei Kirilenko – a dead ringer for Ivan Drago – and his unbelievable back tattoo (pictured) led me to an ESPN magazine story from 2006 about Andrei’s wife Masha, who allows her husband to have sex with another woman once per year.  Says Masha, "Male athletes in this country are extremely attractive.  They get chased by women.  It's hard to resist.  It's the way men are by nature."

Fascinating, I suppose.

Psycho chicks are fun (in their own way)

One of the cheer teams from the University of Memphis (they have several) recently won the national championship in the "Hip Hop" category.  Winning is nothing new for the Tigers, as the Pom Pon squad has nine national titles to its credit.  Yet the reaction one girl in particular had after the U of M was declared the winner is the stuff of legend.

Having gone viral throughout the Internet-connected world about a week ago, the 45-second clip below offers her spasmodic reaction in two parts: first, as it really happened, and second, with some thrash metal playing in the background.  Enjoy:

Sunday's Quote: Unrelated, but culturally relevant

A couple that caught my attention recently...

"Since the first celebrities emerged, mixing their work and their lives in powerful dreams of projected personality, the possibility of confusing art and reality has existed.  The man considered by some (but not me) to be the world's first celebrity, Lord Byron, was a great poet, but that's not why so many admirers asked for locks of his hair that he reportedly had to start sending out clippings from his dog, Boatswain.  Men and women adored Byron because, according to one woman who slept with him, he was 'mad, bad, and dangerous to know.'  The greatest American actor of the nineteenth century, Edwin Booth, thought his career was over when his brother shot President Lincoln.  He soon learned that audiences worshipped [sic] him more — and worshipped [sic] his tortured performances of 'Hamlet' and 'Julius Caesar' more — because they knew about his personal tragedy.  And the great celebrities of the twentieth century ... ran away from the cameras, but this only made their fans eager to see more and know more.  Today, celebrity has become a perpetual enterprise of more, with Twitter acting as both the engine and the agent of unending revelation.  Jump on or jump off. ...

"Kanye [West] has jumped on.  Like every hip-hop artist today, Kanye sees himself as a brand and dreams of total integration of himself with everything that can conceivably be consumed.  But being a brand involves being both more than a human being and less, which may explain why there's a wild, frantic sadness to his personality, or what Cyril Connolly once described as the 'fugitive distress of hedonism.'  To be a brand is ultimately to be a hollow thing.  Like a bell.  The hollowness of Kanye West rings out and his distress only makes him more attractive.  Being a brand has its own demands, and they are growing more and more pressing by the second.  Kanye at least is willing to go all the way.  'I'm living in the future so the present is my past. / My presence is a present, kiss my ass,'  he says in 'Monster.'  All that in just ninety-two characters."
-- from "Why Can't Kanye West Shut the Hell Up?" by Esquire contributor Stephen Marche

"There's a climate of hate out there, all right, but it doesn't derive from the innocuous use of political clichés.  And former Gov. Palin and the tea party movement are more the targets than the source."
-- from "The Arizona Tragedy and the Politics of Blood Libel" by Wall Street Journal columnist Glenn Harlan Reynolds

Just Thinking Out Loud: Judging a classic

Having initially committed to read through a select list of transcendent classics, I opted to challenge myself by starting with a book that resists definition.

Included on TIME's list (something they do well) of the 100 best English language novels from 1923 to present, Gravity's Rainbow is commonly regarded by a variety of know-it-alls as both Thomas Pynchon's magnum opus and as the greatest postmodern work of 20th century literature.  Yet having plowed through the first 100+ pages, it has become difficult to invest myself any further into the semi-apocalyptic adventures of Slothrop, Pirate, Roger Mexico and Jessica, among many others.

So what am I missing here?

Perhaps the famously reclusive Pynchon gets his kicks by making intellectual schlubs like me feel that sense of inferiority for which it seems he strives with every word he writes.  But the original criticisms of this largely celebrated work -- "turgid," "overwritten," "obscene," etc. -- appear valid as well.

The mention of such an iconoclast can become a divisive topic.  So much, in fact, that the Pulitzer board eventually overturned its own decision to award Pynchon their prize for fiction in 1974.  It wasn't the first time (it was the eighth such occurrence in nearly 60 years), but it remains the most prominent episode by which the impact of this book is most adequately conveyed.  And that, by all accounts, is exactly how Pynchon prefers it.

Adam's Perfect Day (and a half)

Originally sent to a group of friends about a year ago, the following details a misogynistic adventure involving money, food, sex, booze, and omnipotent power.  Also, please attempt to keep this bit of humor in its proper context.  It's only a joke.

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7:00 AM -- Awake from an evening of slumber, roll out of my custom-made double king size bed and step onto my third story terrace overlooking Harbor Town as I take a moment to appreciate the exceptionally nice weather (68 degrees, 10 mph winds, 0% humidity).

7:15 AM -- Chow down on an assortment of scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, hash browns, waffles with hot maple syrup, a cheese omelet, buttermilk biscuits with gravy, blueberries, strawberries, grapes, cantaloupe, apple juice, orange juice, chocolate milk, and a Flintstones vitamin.

7:45 AM -- Return to master bedroom for coitus with Victoria's Secret supermodel Miranda Kerr.  She thanks me and leaves.

8:15 AM -- Take a 30-minute crap.

9:00 AM -- Fall asleep watching ESPN SportsCenter.

11:00 AM -- Awaken with a sudden desire to visit the Cooper-Young district to engage adherents of Left Wing philosophy.

11:45 AM -- Ride my custom Harley-Davidson V-Rod (Confederate Memorial edition) to CY and proceed to engage Liberals.  This leads to constructive conversation that prompts many to abandon their Far Left roots.

12:30 PM -- Receive a surprise call from [name withheld], who initially stammers, but eventually confesses her long-suppressed love for me despite her recent marriage.  Yet in an effort to take the proverbial high road, I talk [name withheld] out of leaving her husband because, "It's the right thing to do."

1:00 PM -- Take a moment for reflection and shed a tear (just one tear) over perhaps the most lovely woman I have ever known.

1:15 PM -- Receive text that my Gulfstream G550 has arrived from Nashville with Carrie Underwood on board.

1:16 PM -- Inform my people that I wasn't in the mood for another round of sweet love makin', as I was still worn out from layin' The Good Wood on my girl, Miranda Kerr.

1:17 PM -- Gulfstream takes Carrie Underwood back to Nashville.

1:45 PM -- Ride custom Harley to Memphis City Hall, smack the sh-t out of Willie Herenton and tell him to "Get lost already!"

1:50 PM -- Shake hands with A.C. Wharton on the way out, implore him to do better than the last guy.

2:00 PM -- Take a short walk down South Main to the Planters Peanut Shop my grandfather ran for 10 years as I reflect on playing on the 100-lb. peanut bags with my cousins in the back of the decades-old establishment; purchase a small bag of cashews like my grandfather used to bring me.

2:15 PM -- Ride to Confederate Park, leave a thank you note at the Jefferson Davis Memorial.

2:20 PM -- Arrive at Nathan Bedford Forrest Park and kiss the base of the statue in which General Forrest and his wife are interred, just as I did in front of Al Sharpton and a potentially hostile crowd on the afternoon of August 13, 2005.

2:45 PM -- Buy a new Jaguar XJ8 for no reason.

3:15 PM -- Make my usual visit to GNC for MesoTech peanut butter protein bar and grape Ripped Foce energy drink, just as I do around this hour almost every day.

3:30 PM -- Get inspired, make a few phone calls and purchase majority share of the San Francisco 49ers (Win Super Bowl XLV).

4:00 PM -- Read Bible, ask forgiveness for present and future sins.

4:45 PM -- Consume an assortment of fine alcoholic beverages with members of the League at my home in Harbor Town while reminiscing about the good ol' days as Sirius Ch. 35 ("Chill") plays in the background.

5:15 PM -- Receive an impromptu booty call from Megan Fox, which I politely decline until she agrees to gain a few pounds and lose the tattoos.

6:00 PM -- Chow down with The Inner Circle on bayou salmon, grilled chicken and pork tenderloin.  The meal becomes known as "Protein Fest."

6:45 PM -- Upon finishing off the last of Protein Fest with The Inner Circile, which included an unforeseen influx of friends and family members, I experience a sudden urge to visit Las Vegas.

7:00 PM -- Having received word that Carrie Underwood ransacked the interior of my Gulfstream G550 in a fit of rage after being sent home, I arrange to have a customized Airbus A380 prepared for our arrival.

7:15 PM -- Having initially declined my invitation to Protein Fest because of numerous household chores assigned by his wife, Eddie is kidnapped by an elite group of special ops mercenaries.

7:30 PM -- Two Bell 430 helicopters arrive with a band of ruffians from Harbor Town on board.  Hooded and hogtied, Eddie arrives moments later.

8:00 PM -- Specially customized Airbus takes off.  And yes, it took longer to depart than necessary because I refused to board a jet that didn't have my preference of two 72-inch flat-screen high-definition televisions, Bose surround sound w/ tandem connection to satellite radio, leather couches and recliners, a proper assortment of only the finest and most expensive wine, liquor and beer ever assembled, and of course, a stripper pole.

11:30 PM -- Arrive at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas; half the group passed out during the trip, as the drinks and previous meal (Protein Fest) proved too much for them to handle.

11:45 PM -- Enter my Skyloft suite at the MGM Grand.  As the remaining group preps for the evening's festivities, I am given a special bath treatment by an assemblage of bartenders from Coyote Ugly.

12:30 AM -- Chow down on a midnight snack, dessert and more alcoholic delight at Wolfgang Puck, as arrangements were made in advance for the five-star restaurateur to stay open later than usual.

1:15 AM -- Those among the group who passed out earlier -- and thus, were still onboard the Airbus -- awake in time to join the rest of us for more drinking and cavorting at Tabu' inside the MGM Grand.

1:45 AM -- UFC legends Chuck "Iceman" Liddell and Quinton "Rampage" Jackson begin fighting over a woman at Tabu'.  I stop the brawl by flashing the blue-green blade of my lightsaber in between them.  Liddell runs away, Jackson passes out, and the girl (named "Candi") joins our group.

Note: As a Jedi Knight, I chose the blue-green hue of my blade in honor of masters Yoda and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

1:46 AM -- Feeling an excessively promiscuous vibe, I tell Candi to get lost.

2:00 AM -- With the group at full strength once again, we arrive at The Sapphire (the world's largest strip club).  Upon giving each man a roll of $2,500, I tell everyone to "Run off and have a good time."

3:00 AM -- Landon is arrested by Sapphire security and charged with disturbing the peace, reckless endangerment, and 14 counts of lewd conduct.  He is never seen again.

3:30 AM -- Eddie is warned by Sapphire security to stop "making it rain."

3:35 AM -- After more than three years of marriage, Eddie finally loses his virginity.

4:15 AM -- The group makes its way back to The Grand for a round of poker, blackjack, and roulette (my personal favorite).

8:00 AM -- In all, the group (now known as "The Twenty") tallies a winning total of about $3.8 million.

9:00 AM -- Receive word that about half the group will be divorced and/or unemployed if they don't return to Memphis immediately.  I arrange to have my cohorts return home while those remaining receive a massage treatment at the Grand Spa & Health Club.

9:45 AM -- With half the group now aboard the Airbus en route to Memphis per the threat of pending unemployment and/or divorce, I take the loyalists in a stretch Hummer limo to check out my new home -- still under construction -- at Red Rock Country Club in nearby Summerlin, NV.

10:15 PM -- After observing my humble abode, a modest 275,000 sq. ft. spread over several acres (rare for a country club set in the desert), Gavin screams "I want one!  I want one, and I want it NOW!"  Gavin regains his composure and tries to act as if his embarrassing cataleptic episode hadn't just occurred.

11:00 PM -- Seeing that Gavin's outburst was partially due to a lack of sleep, the crew and I return to my suite at the MGM Grand for some rest.

11:15 PM -- Because I require very little slumber, I slip out for a beverage at Wet Republic (the MGM Grand's pool area).

11:30 PM -- Become acquainted with several members of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas cheer squad.

11:45 PM -- Turn down their subtle advances, per a lack of hotness.  Believe me on that one.

12:15 PM -- Take my Ferrari 360 Modena for a cruise around the Las Vegas Strip... and beyond.

2:00 PM -- Snack time at GNC.

2:30 PM -- Realizing that most of the guys don't have the luxury of living off the interest of a ten-figure fortune, I decide that returning to Memphis is necessary, however unfortunate.

7:00 PM -- Arrive in the Bluff City.  Everyone cries; "Take me back to Vegas" is repeated almost constantly.

7:30 PM -- Treat the group to a nice meal at Chez Phillippe before retiring to my 12th floor executive suite at The Peabody.

8:00 PM -- As we kick back and reminisce, Nick notices that I have imprints of Trent and Justin's faces on my toilet paper.  Nick leaves in a fit of rage.

9:00 PM -- The last of my friends from this fantastic voyage returns home, leaving me alone to ponder the events of the past 38 hours.  "Helluva time," I thought.  "Helluva time indeed."

9:30 PM -- I return to Harbor Town where I find Carrie Underwood is sitting on my front porch.

"I guess sleep can wait."

What isn't "eccentric"?

Sebastian Horsley (left), the eldest son of the late British food magnate Nicholas Horsley, died on June 17 from a heroin overdose.  He was 47-years-old.

Known for an upbringing filled with "atheism, alcoholism and insanity," Horsley was an artist, a self-described "Dandy" fashioned in the mold of Lord Byron and Oscar Wilde who is probably best known for his failed, and nearly fatal, crucifixion attempt in the Philippines 10 years ago to prepare, as he put it, for a series of paintings on the subject.

Fame, in an odd twist, did not bring a great deal of wealth.  He often complained of being broke, with most of his money being spent on drugs and prostitutes while squandering the rest.

"Eccentric," from what I found, is the term used most often to describe this destitute character.  While one could argue that it describes him perfectly, I find little eccentricity in such a tragic figure whose odd fixation with human skulls, prostitutes, and especially alcohol and narcotics ultimately led to his demise.

There is nothing eccentric about self-destruction.  Horsley was a lost soul and social iconoclast who never found what he was looking for.  Yet wherever his spirit may roam, we can only hope that Sebastian Horsley is now at peace.

A lovable group of Jackass(es)

The third installment of the Jackass movie franchise, tenatively entitled Jackass 3D, was scheduled to begin filming today with a theater release targeted for October 15.

Perhaps this should fall under the "Guilty Pleasures" label, but the hell these lunatics endure just to make us laugh, and themselves wealthy -- the first two movies' combined domestic take exceeded $164 million on smallish production budgets -- is worthy of note for doing things that would never enter my mind.  Hopefully nobody dies.

Why "eccentric"?

Perhaps your definition of eccentricity differs from mine. I believe John Stuart Mill’s quote atop the page well explains how individuals of the acentric variety intend to present themselves, which varies, I think, from the common attributes of those who are merely tagged with the label.

Those who have known me for a while might suggest that my eccentricity centers more on personality than my perspective on politics, religion, history and social matters of every sort. Yet the prevailing notion of eccentricity among Right Wingers stands on the basis of comprehensive truth even in the face of every imaginable insult from both sides of the mainstream political spectrum. Still there are some things that cannot be overlooked.

Janeane Garofalo, for example, is perhaps the only woman capable of arising in me a sense of militant vehemence. Her pharisaical comments, most recently about the nationwide Tea Parties and the half-million people who attended, are close to unforgivable (which was probably the point):

"There is nothing more instant than seeing a bunch of racist become confused and angry at a speech they're not quite certain what he's saying. It sounds right to them, and then, and then it doesn't make sense, which... let's be very honest about what this is about. It's not about bashing Democrats, its not about taxes, they have no idea what the Boston Tea Party was about, they don't know their history at all. This is about hating a Black man in The White House. This is racism straight up. That is nothing but a bunch of tea-bagging rednecks. And there is no way around that."
-- Garofalo on "Countdown with Keith Olbermann," April 17, 2009

It has to make you wonder what society will be coerced into tolerating in the name of tolerance. And at present, there are few legitimate reflections more eccentric than that.