REAL COOL TIME, USA

On Kentucky Derby Day

2007-05-05T12:11:00.002-04:00

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

2007-04-30T02:32:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-10T16:57:00.001-04:00

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

2007-04-01T14:59:00.001-04:00

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!

2007-03-24T13:13:00.001-04:00

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

2007-03-15T16:44:00.001-04:00

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

2007-03-04T12:01:00.000-05:00

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:

Into The Mystic

2007-03-03T15:21:00.000-05:00

So...
You're regretting your recent decision to "get psychedelic" at work. Sure, it sounded like a fun idea. Its a slow day at the office, and Todd from Accounts Payable just got back from New Mexico with a pound of torch cactus. And after all, you're working on a Saturday!

The first few hours were a blast. Your mind, body and spirit became one and were consumed by an ecstatic peace. Rita in HR had never looked better, and someone (perhaps angels?) had restocked the vending machine with Dipsy Doodles. You tear into the delectable doodles and Heaven on Earth is revealed to you.

And then a crash...
Todd, always the wild card, has removed his shirt and is now blaring the twenty-seven minute live version of "Moby Dick" that you forgot to delete from the office iTunes. You are paralyzed with fear. The room seems to get smaller as Todd's exposed chest hair gets closer. What will you do? What will you do?

Take a deep breath. Relax. Your friends at Real Cool Time, USA are here to help. While we're mostly known for our keen wit and devastating good looks, we are also experts in crisis management. Solving your problem is as easy as 1,2,3.

1. Keep your shirt ON. Otherwise things will be really weird on Monday morning.
2.Put on some soothing music. We recommend, "An Evening With Wild Man Fischer"
3.Have a Yoo-Hoo.

Follow these three easy steps, and you'll be feeling better in no time!
And don't forget... drugs are bad.

John Harvey Kellogg Has Done It Again!

2007-02-25T19:36:00.000-05:00

Dear Sirs:

I won't lie to you, your products have brought me a lot of joy over the years. Why, when I was just of boy, no more than sixteen years of age I once put down four bowls of "Cracklin' Oat Bran" in one sitting. (Sadly, I was NOT sitting on the toilet at the time.)

Back in 1999 I even took a vacation to your fascinating museum facilities in Battle Creek, Michigan aka Cereal City, USA. The gift shop was lovely, and the predominately teen staff was pleasantly acne free.

I was also pleased to learn of Dr. John Harvey Kellogg's fervent stance against masturbation. Some of my friends thought it an odd topic of focus for a museum dedicated to breakfast cereal. I say bravo, good doctor, bravo!

Sadly, in spite of all my sincere praise, I am writing with a complaint. Namely, your "Strawberry Delight Frosted Mini-Wheats." I must say I was appalled at the stench that poured from the box upon opening. It was as if someone had Krazy Glued my nose to the ass of a Strawberry Shortcake doll. Most unpleasant indeed!

Please cease production of this hot pink nightmare lest you wish to destroy the legacy of the mighty Mini-Wheat!

Sincerely,
Dylan P. Ewing, Kentucky Colonel

All Blogs Go To Heaven

2007-02-18T14:43:00.001-05:00

Hello friends, and welcome to REAL COOL TIME, USA

"Real Cool Time, USA" is my new and improved blog.
What's to be expected from your old pal, Executive Dreamer now that he's made the leap to the big time? Well, let's just say that when I'm not working on my critically acclaimed series of oil portraits on Pringles... I'll be blogging.
Or thinking about blogging. Or eating pistachios. I don't know really, I'm a busy guy... its difficult to say.

BUT, I do know this...

You'll be regaled with witty tales of my adventures, real and imagined.
My ribald ary (not a word) will warm your heart and dazzle your senses (read: melt your mind). You can come here anytime you want to laugh, learn, or to simply share an evening of enchantment with the one you love.

Love,
D

P.S. Feel free to high-five our mascot on your way out:

The True Meaning of Christmas

2007-02-18T14:39:00.001-05:00

originally blogged: December 9, 2006

Break out the booze and slip on your special socks because the holidays are here folks, and your old pal Dylan is coming to town.

Its a crazy time of year, and maybe you're feeling overwhelmed by it all. Like most young people today, you've got a lot of questions running through your mind. You're always wondering what exactly defines a drinking problem, and does that ultra low v-neck t-shirt/tube dress/penis sheath make you look like a scab with legs?
I understand, there's a lot to consider in this zany game of mix-em-up, but its Christmas time and if you're going to make it to the new year you've got to relax. Take a deep breath, chew that last bite of Frito Pie, and think positive thoughts. Thoughts like...
"What should I get Dylan Ewing for Christmas?"

Alas, what do you get for the dad who has everything when shopping days are quickly running out? Well, I did you all a solid and put together the Dylan Ewing Wish Book 2006. The DEWB '06 not only includes the things I DO want, but also the things that I DON"T want. This way you won't be tempted to buy me that gift certificate to Lee's Famous Recipe that you've been eyeing. (Remember what happened last year?)

So, without further ado, I present my wish lists to you, friends, emotionally abused elves, and holly jolly consumers.

THINGS I DON'T WANT FOR CHRISTMAS:
* An ear infection
* News of my illegitimate child/children
* Any cookies, popcorn, hard candy, etc in a commemorative tin
* Things you made (I'm not your fuckin' mom)
* Tickets to Gem Hartley's one man show, "The Prune Smuggler"

THINGS I DO WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
* Cash
* Checks made out to "cash"
* Money orders
* Full or partial payment of my rent, utilities, and/or phone bill
* Baby elephant named Handome Randall that poops hundred dollar bills

Feliz Navidad,

D.

The Return

2007-02-18T14:34:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: December 3,2006

First let me address those of you who have told me you miss my blogs.

Sometimes a blog must go out into the wilderness where it can cultivate an FZ mustache. When said facial hair achieves the proper length, luster, and sheen the blog may take a wife, invariably named Rhonda or Darlene.
The blog will sire twins, Bucephalus (male) and Slue-Foot Sue (female).
One morning while the babies are eating tapioca pudding, the disgusted blog will tie them in a burlap sack to be dropped in the nearest river.
The blog does not tolerate fat babies, a lesson, the twins learned the hard way, I guess.

After 6 to 10 weeks the blog may then shave its FZ -which, by now is stained with rum and pizza- and attempt to rejoin the world of semi-acceptable human beings.

For those of you who gave up on the blog... I hope your dog dies.

The Dream I Had On Yom Kippur

2007-02-18T14:31:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: October 2, 2006

This sounds like a bad dream, but it really was a good dream:

I was holding Mrs. Baker's rosary, trying to remember all the words.
It was embarrassing because I had to say all those prayers in school.
There were a lot of people there that I've known.
They were dressed in black robes with gavels, badges and bloody teeth.
I thought,
"Don't let them lay that Lone Ranger shit on you. There are only sinners."
I thought about every time I wanted to punch some guy in the mouth.
And every bad move, and every drop of juice, and every nice girl, and every shitty thing I've ever seen or done or heard about.
So I put that rosary down in my pocket and I asked,
"Are you running with me, Jesus?
I'm trying to get there, but my back is tired."
He called back, "Take it easy baby."

Today is the day of atonement.

Forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who tresspass against us.

A Thames Production

2007-02-18T14:25:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: August 25, 2006

From today's New York Post:

OLD PROSPECTOR
by Benson Underhill
Park Slope, Brooklyn

Brooklyn resident, Brian Frey was arrested Thurday evening in Prospect Park along with several unnamed prostitutes and their dog, Lemonade.
He was found chasing the bikini clad women around the park's historic carousel with a boombox blaring "Yakety Sax" by beloved jazzman, Boots Randolph. Frey was held in custody and his boombox, broken during an altercation with police, was not returned. Charges include solicitation, disorderly conduct, and indecent exposure.Concerning the latter charge, Frey claims he did not realize that he was nude from the waist down.

Local hippie, Todd Bonneville provided the Post with an eyewitness account. "It was crazy! These chicks were running around, like almost naked, and that dude was blasting his tunes. It looked like a really cool scene, man. Then the cops busted the dude 'cause he had his ding dong out, and all. I say let it free man, let it free! Then I got out of there 'cause I was holding five grams of ketamine in my shoe. You're not gonna print my name are you?"

Frey's attorney, Chet Cheddars spoke with reporters this morning.
"My client was in no way soliciting or intending to solicit the services of prostitutes. Mr. Frey was simply trying to unwind from his high-stress job. After reading Wikepedia at his office for six hours straight, his judment was slightly impaired. The gag may have gone too far, but let the record show that Brian James Frey has never paid for sex. Not even a talk job!" Mr. Cheddars went on to call the charges "an outrage," and continued with a lengthy, and inappropriately graphic description of Mr. Frey's sexual history.

Brian J. Frey, alleged sickie

My Friend Kenny/BMWs?Taco Tooth

2007-02-18T14:23:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: August 7, 2006

Head's up guys, there are tooth bandits on the loose.
If you recieve an invitation to the Great Neck Exotic Cheese Tasting,
DO NOT GO!!
My friend Kenny fell for this scam and he paid for it dearly... with his teeth.

Appartently, these invitations are being circulated by the Basil Manly Wilkerson Gang. For those not in the know, The BMWs are a gang of sadistic amatuer dentists named for the infamous "mad scientist of dentistry", Basil M.Wilkerson.

They have been inviting cheese enthusiasts out to Great Neck for what they advertise as "an unforgettable day of cheese from around the globe."
When Kenny showed up at the Whitey Ford Civic Center, he was bum-rushed and drugged by members of the Wilkerson gang.

Kenny regained consciousness two days later on the men's room floor at The Shishkabob Palace, (where 90 percent of The Great Gatsby was written), bloody and reeking of gin. Struggling to his feet, Kenny caught a harrowing glimpse of himself in the mirror. His teeth had been stolen and replaced with broken taco shells.

Confused and desperate for answers, Kenny ran into the Palace dining room. Grabbing the arm of the first person he saw, he pleaded with her, "Who did this to me? Who?!"

Adding insult to injury, she threw her brandy alexander in his face, shouting, "Buzz off, Taco Tooth!"

I'm just sayin'... its a mad world out there, y'know?

Now Accepting Donations

2007-02-18T14:21:00.001-05:00

originally blogged: July 3, 2006

Well, we're finally going to do it people...
Our own personal Manifest Destiny has called, and we must leave New York behind.
You guessed it, friends. Brian and I are moving to Branson!

Maybe you've heard of it?
BRANSON, MISSOURI. Entertainment capital of the Bible Belt.

Brian got a job as a creative consultant with the Yakov Smirnof Revue,
and he'll coninue publishing his radical religious newsletter, The CROSSbow.
I will be working the piano bar at the Branson Ramada Inn while continuing
to pursue my lifelong dream of getting to second base with a Mandrell sister.

The thing is, we need a little help to get us going.
We're building a patchwork tent to use as our office until we find a place of our own.
So if you have any spare rolls of burlap lying around the house, send them our way.
We also have a few concerns about the RV we were planning to drive out there.
Number 1: those RVs are real gas guzzlers.
Number 2: we don't actually have an RV (woops).
If you're reading this and you know where we can get a good deal on an RV, give us a call.
Does anyone know if Tom Raper is still in business?

See you on the other side...

Sharp Dressed Man

2007-02-18T14:20:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: June 27, 2006

I'm coming back to Cincinnati for the wedding of some old friends. Oh boy...

First let me say that I think the people getting married are great. Really.
And now on with the shit-talking...

Weddings are a real kick in the clouds if you know what I mean. (I mean balls)
Plane tickets. Gifts. Clothes that don't have holes in them. It never ends.
Sure, I make a good living on the Bingo circuit, but I'm not a millionaire y'know!?!?!
Seriously, I get it... you guys are NEVER breaking up. Good job I guess. Jeez.

Plus, I've been through hell and high water trying to line up a respectable date.
When the twins cancelled I thought I was really up shit creek, but then I met Marlene.
We were both buying cheese fries at Coney Island and my heart skipped a beat.
Sadly, she was eaten alive by a pack a wild dingos two days after we met.
I wept openly for several minutes.
RIP Honey Bun.

But y'know what?
I hear weddings are crawlin' with babes. Sad babes.
Sad babes and me in a handsome tan Paul Smith suit...
Everybody's crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man!
Thanks again, ZZ Top.

Bone Marrow

2007-02-18T14:18:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: June 15, 2006

So...
Breaking in to the world of professional hand modeling has been harder than I expected.
I really bought it when that guy at the bus station told me that I was a "natural".
He said my hands were exquisite, and that the pictures would be tasteful. Who knew?

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that everything is ok.
I got that website shut down, and now I'm on my way down a new and exciting career path.
Thats right, you can call me, Dylan Ewing, Professional Bone Marrow Donor!!

Each time I donate I earn $700.00, and I only have to stay in the hospital for a week.
Thats one week to lay in bed, watch "Days of Our Lives," and stuff myself with pudding.
I know what you're thinking.
Sounds to good to be true, right?

We'll see... when the surgeon is sawing away at my bones and scraping out the marrow.
Suckers!

Kitten In A Tree

2007-02-18T14:16:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: May 31, 2006

Something strange happened to me today.
I was in the shower, and when it came time to wash my pp, I sang in a beautiful falsetto.
I sounded just like Johnny Mathis.

What do you make of that?

Currently listening :
"Open Fire, Two Guitars" By Johnny Mathis

I Come From Down In The Valley

2007-02-18T14:09:00.000-05:00

Originally blogged on Wednesday, May 24, 2006

i'm coming to cincinnati this weekend. yeah.
lets make sure the following things happen:

1. slow dancing to the miracles
2. find ken broo, put him in a full nelson
3. 100 indian princesses kiss my eyes
4. put a fried egg & cheese double decker from the blue jay in my belly
5. prank phone calls to brian
6. chet cheddars puts a garbage can on someone's head
7. my mom tries to buy me new socks
8. mail a dirty, dirty stroke mag to joe deters
9. sweet bourbon daddy says hello
10. hardy boys?

also, today is bob dylan's birthday. dig a cig and tell 'em all it ain't so bad.

d.

It's Cool, As Long As We Don't Kiss

2007-02-18T14:00:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: May 19, 2006

This one is dedicated to all my buddies,
but especially Greg 'cause I'm pretty sure he does this too.
Enjoy!

Sometimes I think about my buddies when I'm listening to really heartfelt love songs.
You should give it a try sometime, its pretty cool.

I mean really heavy weight love ballads; songs for couples and slow skaters only.
I just lay there thinking about how sweet my buddies are,
and how its so awesome that we can't turn each other pregnant.

Maybe this is all a little weird, but we just really love each other.
Its just really cool y'know? Its not like we're into brushing each other's hair and stuff.

So here are my top 5 love songs to think about your buddies to:
song- artist/album

1) "Everyday" -Slade/Old, New, Borrowed, Blue
2) "Telephone Line" -ELO/A New World Record
3) "Don't Cry" -Guns N' Roses/Use Your Illusion II
4) "Real Love" Mary J Blige/What's The 411*
5) "Shine"- Margo Guryan/25 Demos

*this one is also good for playing dodge ball to, shooting off fireworks to, eating candy to,
or if you just really want to smile for like 10 hours straight.

Dear Danzig ( letter #137 0f 365 )

2007-02-18T13:59:00.000-05:00

originally blogged:May 17, 2006

Dear Glen:

Late last night I was watching the religious cable programing as I often do, and oddly enough, it made me think of you. That's right, YOU, Glen Danzig.

You see, the Power Team was on, and I must say it was glorious. Their work is a true inspiration to young singles, like myself, who are staying pure for marriage. Just as PT member Matt Dopson was demolishing a 7 foot concrete wall with the force of his beautiful tenor singing voice, it occurred to me how conflicted you must be about the Power Team.

On the one hand, you're drawn to, even arroused by the power lifting. Conversely, you must find the Power Team's devotion to our lord and savior, JC, downright loathsome. I know, its a real boner-kill!

So, I was thinking, maybe you could start your own team. You guys could go on television, lift ridiculous amounts of weight, and break things all in the service of your dark lord and master, the Philly Cheesesteak.

Let me know if you need an equipment manager!

Hangin' Horns,
D. Ewing

Letter To A Semi-Nude Man

2007-02-18T13:52:00.000-05:00

originally blogged: May 16, 2006

Dear Neighbor:

First of all, let me just say that your backyard is lovely. I never realized the potential of four sqare feet of patch grass and a pile of dirt. I mean, really, you've outdone yourself!

However, I do have a few questions/concerns about your lawn management.
Namely, the tiny, navy blue, jockey-cut underwear. It seems like an unusual wardrobe choice for landscaping, but if you want to water your dirt pile in less than pants, thats your business. If I don't want to see your sausage-like torso glistening in the sun all I have to do is put down the binoculars.

I'm mostly concerned for your safety. You really ought to be more careful back there.
I've seen you back into the thorned bushes on more than one occasion. Not to mention the potential bug bites. The taco sauce, mayonaise, and countless other food stuffs that you've spilled on yourself are really inviting to outdoor pests. To them your body is like a trip to the all you can eat Ponderosa!
Its as if you aren't aware that you're only wearing the tiny blue underwear, flip flops, and a gold chain.

Which brings me to my next point; why the gold chain?
You've taken the time to put on a gold chain, but NOT pants. What gives, guy?

Concerned,
D. Ewing