On Kentucky Derby Day

Hello friends, and welcome to a very special day for Real Cool Time USA. You see, today is sort of a "double holiday" for your old pal ED.

As always we are proud to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. On this day in 1862 Mexican General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín defeated French forces at the Battle of Puebla. Contrary to popular belief among white college students, Cinco de Mayo is NOT Mexican Independence Day. We celebrate that on September 16 of course. The good news is you can still get shit-faced and flip over some poor bastard's VW Cabriolet. Party on!

More importantly for a dude like me, today is the 133rd running of the Kentucky Derby. On this day, one of the nations finest 3 year-old thoroughbred racehorses will win me some serious dough!

This year the odds makers are favoring two colts. Curlin, a horse with tremendous speed and talent, but little experience for a Derby horse. He ran zero races as a two year old. The young star may be overwhelmed by the early competition around his inside position. Many a bourbon tear will fall when Curlin comes up short. You heard it here first.

The second big pick is Street Sense who comes to the Derby with the Breeder's Cup curse over his head. No horse has ever followed the prestigious Breeder's Cup with a win at the Derby. You can't win when you're cursed. Just ask Epictetus!

So race fans, what have we learned? Well, it seems that the "experts" are full of beans, and I need some cash. Please send your cash, check, or money orders to the Real Cool Time Home Office (read: my house). I will use those funds to bet on the real winner, Nobiz Like Showbiz. And don't worry folks... I obviously know what I'm doing here. When its all said and done, we'll grab a beer with my dog, Cheech.

I'm From The Midwest/I Lost My Science Folder

Guys!
I lost my Science folder. This sucks. Seriously. This really sucks.
My mom always says "retrace your steps" whenever I lose stuff.
So. Let's see. What did I do after school?
Ummmmm...

I went to the Circle K with Shownonono. We bought a pack of smokes, two Code Reds and a gallon of gas. We took the Buick for a spin past the cruise corner. Shownonono asked some babes who their favorite Everly Brother was, Don or Phil? They didn't seem to know what he was talking about, but I laughed to the point of Code Red tears.

Then...
We went to hang out in my dad's shed. Its pretty cool back there. One time we got a shit load of beers, and we just got drunk and jammed all weekend. My dad is always telling us to stay out of there. He thinks I'll fuck up his Garden Weasel. Yeah right!

Ah shit man, I don't know where that Science folder went. I'm screwed dude! Keep your eyes peeled. It says "SCIENCE" on the front, and its got this pretty cool drawing on the back that my friend Tina did. Please give it to me if you find it anywhere. I'll totally get you stoned and buy you a large pizza.

Ted And Whoopi, I Miss You So

Number 28!
Are you fucking kidding me? Is this some kind of a sick joke, E! Entertainment Television? You really made a list of the "101 Juiciest Hollywood Hook-Ups" with Ted Danson/Whoopi Goldberg only making it to number 28? This is a goddamn outrage!

Maybe you've forgotten the days when a guy like Ted Danson aka Sam Malone was widely thought of as a righteous babe. Perhaps it slipped your mind that in the late 80s and early 90s the name Ted Danson was more or less a synonym for the word, "panty-peeler." Corvette owners everywhere were cultivating Danson-esque quaffs, wowing single women with tales of their Minor League baseball careers, and generally swimming in a sea of guilt free, non-committal sex.

Or maybe you're not up at 3am like I am, captivated by Homer And Eddie on TNT. You're thinking about going to bed. You want to sleep. You know that you need to sleep, but there she is... Whoopi. No matter how close you get, you just can't figure out what's happening there.

Then one fateful day on the set of Made In America Ted met Whoopi. They fell in love, and history was made as the entire nation went flaccid. That my friends is what being a power couple is all about!

Ted and Whoopi, I salute you!

Reelin' In The Years

Oh. Hello. I didn't see you there.

You see, I was just looking over my Amazon Wish List. It seems I have a birthday coming up, and as always I want to help you help me. I realize I'm not easy to shop for. As you probably know, I'm a man of exquisite taste. What you may not know is that I'm also a man with an extremely short temper. In the past ill conceived gift ideas have landed my friends and family in the ER, and me in the booby hatch.

Believe me friends, I want this year to be different just as much as you do. What am I willing to promise you? How about this? No more drunken tirades. No more broken collar bones (sorry grandpa). No more tears!

There are a few things I'd like to promise myself as well if you don't mind. This year I won't spend the night of my birthday tearfully watching Reality Bites over a Hungry Man dinner and chain smoking Benson & Hedges menthol 100s. I won't!

So! There you have it, folks. I've made my birthday promises, and I did my part of the birthday deal. I was in fact born on April 4, 1981. There is plenty of historical documentation on that if you have any doubts. All you have to do now is link, laugh, and love. Me.

Literacy... Not Just For Sissies!

Today I introduce to you, Blog Nation, the first installment of the
Real Cool Time Book Club!

In keeping with the Real Cool Time philosophy, our first book is an action packed thrill-ride that will leave you on an adrenaline high akin to wrestling a python in the nude.
Fasten your safety belts because you're riding with Doc Savage in...
Spook Hole: A Doc Savage Adventure

Doc Savage is a physician, surgeon, scientist, inventor, explorer, researcher, and musician- a renaissance man trained from birth to fight evil wherever it may lurk.
In Spook Hole we follow the Man of Bronze and his trustworthy friends as they track a one-armed man to the far reaches of South America -- only to find their lives endangered when they discover the amazing secret that Hezemial Law is guarding!

Will Doc and friends topple the heinous men of Hezemial? Will they live to fight another day? Where can I find a good slice of pizza in the Spook Hole? Find out the answers to these captivating queries, and much much more.

Join the Real Cool Time Book Club today!

Kiss My Ass, I'm On Vacation

Nothing lasts forever.

Its true, and just like that cold November rain, my vacation has come to an end. This year I journeyed west to sunny California. San Francisco to be exact. What did I do? Where did I stay? Who did I see? Well friends, sit back relax, and let me tell you what its like to have a Real Cool Time out west.

First of all, let me say thanks to the Internal Revenue Service for the better than usual tax return. If you hadn't been picking my pockets all year long, I'd never have saved enough money for a swanky vacation. You did it again guys. Thanks.

Now, on to the travelogue...

I arrived about seven hours late because of snow storms in the east. When I finally landed I took a cab straight to the Mission. I got out of the cab and my old pal Boyd Man handed me a pint of Jack Daniels. Our course was set in motion. If you've never been to SF, the Mission is where tacos and hookers live. I consumed two of the former and talked about baseball with one of the latter.

Afterwards some friends took me to a park overlooking the city. We shared a drink and a few cigs. I had a couch to sleep on, and everything looked like a movie.

Woke up. Met a very funny guy from Cleveland who looked like a young Sterling Hayden. We talked about riffs. And then the walking. Eating. Walking. Laughing. Record shopping. Walking. Walking. Walking. Laughing. Snack. Road Dog. Laughing. Walking. Bar.

Now I'd been in town nearly 24 hours. I was sitting on a sidewalk next to a guy called Blanket Man. It seems Blanket Man's torch lighter was running out of fluid, and he needed a "jump start" from my lighter. Why a "jump" and not simply a light? Because he wanted to smoke crack, not a ciggie. DUH.

This would not be the last time I would go to a bar and hang around outside. The sidewalk party is very popular out there, and who can blame 'em. You can get a bottle Royal Gate and an orange juice for under five dollars.

Later in the night I rode in a van with a few old friends and a some native strangers to a very nice apartment. I saw a lot of new faces. Their bellies were pale and empty except for pills. More pills in there than a Tijuana taxi. Jeez.

A game of bloody knuckles ensued. A hand was grossly swollen, but not bloodied. I gave a girl the nickname "Bruise Springsteen."

Day 3. Things got a little weird.

The next day I walked some more.
At night I hung out on a roof with other long hairs. Ohioans. Favorites.

My last day in town I ate a burger. They're just as delicious as they were eight years ago. Afterwards we went to an arcade full of player pianos and old, mechanical fortune telling ladies. One of those ladies told me that I would beat the devil.

Its okay with me, I'm goin' back to New York City.

Calling All Little Guys

In case you haven't heard, I'm very close to being a "Big Guy." Very close. I'm 6'1" (6'2" with good posture), I wear size 12 shoes, and 31x34 Levi's. Yes, ladies.

The problem is my weight. I'm too skinny to really be thought of as a Big Guy. I've talked to my friends down at the GNC. I tried the all Butterfinger diet. I tried eating garbage. Hell, I tried every damn thing. I just can't seem to bulk up.

For a long time I thought this was hopeless. I thought the day would never come when I'd step into a Mazda Miata and the owner of that little Miata would say loud and heartily, "Eaaaaasy Big Fella!" Needless to say, I was distraught. I was almost prepared to surrender my one great ambition in life. Almost, and then...
I had a vision.

I'll buddy up with a Little Guy!
A REALLY little guy. Like under five feet tall. He'll be so lilliputian that I'll seem huge by comparison. And then hang on tight because we'll be doing some serious world shaking! We'll be adored by waitresses and bartenders everywhere. People will buy us things.

So if you know a Little Guy -or better yet- if you ARE a Little Guy get in touch with me by dialing the Real Cool Time Chat Line. 555-2150. That's 555-2150.
Call Now!
Then and only then can I live on in all of your hearts and minds as a Big Guy.

PLUS, I already bought these t-shirts: