The Royalty Tenenbaums

Joel Tenenbaum, a 25-year old grad student at Boston University, was ordered to pay four record companies $675,000 for illegally downloading and sharing 30 songs between 1997 and 2000. The jury showed admirable restraint in not awarding the $4.5 million the record companies were seeking. Still, that's $22,500 per song which makes a $1 i-tune seem like quite the bargain. Even at that low standard, a similar jury verdict against TCG would put a very painful $180,000,000 (give or take a few $10,000,000 or so) dent in the old wallet.

And folks wonder why I'm headed for the border.

Sugar, I Wish I Knew How To Quit You

Rodell, meet Sugar. Sugar, this is Rodell. Perhaps you've met. "Rodell" is Rodell Vereen, a 50-year old guy from South Carolina. Sugar--probably not her real name--is a 21-year old mare, from Longs, SC. That's MARE, as in a female horse, of a certain age. As reported by AP:

A South Carolina man was charged with having sex with a horse after the animal's owner caught the act on videotape, then staked out the stable and caught him at shotgun point, authorities said Wednesday.
But this wasn't the first time Rodell Vereen has been charged with buggery. He pleaded guilty last year to having sex with the same horse after owner Barbara Kenley found him in the same stable and was sentenced to probation and placed on the state's sex offender list.
Kenley said she noticed several weeks ago her 21-year-old horse Sugar was acting strange and getting infections again. She noticed things in the barn had been moved around — dirt piled up and bales of hay stacked near the horse's stall at her Lazy B Stables in Longs, about 20 miles northeast of Myrtle Beach.
"Police kept telling me it couldn't be the same guy," Kenley said Wednesday. "I couldn't believe that there were two guys going around doing this to the same horse."
She spent several nights at the stables, which are about four miles from her home, but didn't find anything. So she installed surveillance cameras, and when she reviewed the footage from July 19, she couldn't believe she was seeing the same man doing the same thing to her horse.
Kenley didn't call police because she was certain the man would come back to the stable, and she wanted to make sure he was arrested. So she staked out the barn and caught Vereen inside Monday night, chasing him to his truck and holding him with her shotgun until police came.

According to his mother, Rodell generally "does pretty good, as long as he takes his medicine." Hey, Mom, something ain't workin.

The victim is currently being treated for "infections." Ewwwwwwww.

28 Days Later

Sailing tomorrow, out of Seattle, the Infectious Disease Cruise Conference. Seven boisterous days of HIV, MRSA, Tuberculosis, Lyme, Clostridium and our current fave H1N1. Haz-Mat suit fashion show on Wednesday. Explosive coughing contest Thursday. TCG gets feverish just thinking about it. Be sure and pack plenty of anti-microbial soap and handwipes. And for pete's sake, try and stay out of confined spaces like, um, airplanes and cruise ships. No word yet on the city for the return docking.

To Cornhole Or Not To Cornhole?

The first time TCG saw the game being played, it was instantly familiar: Bean Bag Toss. As a child, it was fun enough to occupy a half hour at a birthday party but not much more. Fast forward to adulthood and then some to find grown men and women whippin those bags towards the target and, behold, the phenomenon known as.....Cornhole? Exsqueeze me?

Described by Stephen Colbert as a "combination of horseshoes and sodomy," this new leisuretime pursuit is sweeping the nation. And by nation, I mean a demographic of undereducated, overfed, orthodonture-impaired, vermilion-necked yahoos located primarily in the former Confederate States of America. They giggled when they first said "cornhole" as a young tyke and, for them, the hilarity never ended. Indeed, the Cornhole lexicon is full of shit-yer-pants kneeslappin disambiguity: swish, back door, blocked hole, dirty bag/sanchez, gusher, police (u betcha), slider, lick side, etc. Pros can "hustle the hole." Players are known as, of course, Cornholers. Just ask Beavis or Butthead, I never knew which one was who.

Like so many of the major sports, Cornholing is experiencing growing pains. Chief among these is the fact that its very name conjures up images of Ned Beatty squealing as he is man-raped by Toothless Bugger #2 in Deliverance. But does the sport thrive because of or despite its name? A spokesman for the toy company that promotes its Cornhole products under the name Baggo puts it thusly, "What would you rather hear your child shout out when they score?" On the other hand, Delmas McCoon, president of the American Cornhole Association says, "Hey, it's just a name. Of course I know it's another word for anal. That's the beauty part. Guys come for the sex and stay for the game." Wheeee-doggies!

You Had Me At Bacon.......

Fresh from the fertile mind of Katrina Markoff, chocolatier and owner of Vosges Haut-Chocolat, the unholy melding of sweet and savory, smoke and swine: Mo's Bacon Bar. How many billions of bong hits have drifted over the transom, wasted, before someone figured THIS out? Applewood smoked bacon and alderwood smoked salt covered in rich milk chocolate. If having his former son-in-law buried in the same hallowed ground isn't enough to bring Elvis back to life, this oughta do the trick.

Worse than a Sharp Stick in the Eye

It looks innocent enough. A simple blue and white box of a size that would hold a personal electronic device. The labelling begins simply, "HalfLytely & Bisacodyl tablets." Next,the words that send a chill from the top of my spine to the bottom of my taint--"Bowel Prep Kit."

Inside that devil box are substances that will, in a very short time, reign down destruction on my GI system on a scale heretofore not experienced by TCG, even considering my awesome worldliness. This will be Katrina, Krakatoa, and Nuclear Armageddon all rolled into one in the name of "prepping" my "bowel."

Thursday, July 2, TCG faces that ungraceful process precursing one's entry into codgerhood--the colonoscopy. In many societies the rite of passage into manhood is marked by ceremony. There may be a walkabout or a dreamquest, followed by a feast and much celebration. Family and friends will congratulate The Man and become intoxicated, perform feats of strength, sacrifice an animal or two, rekindle old arguments and end up pissed off all over again. In this society when one passes from young man to old fart they run a (shudder) SIX FOOT SNAKE UP YOUR ASS. This is Progress? Why we fight them there, blah, blah, blah?

The fiends who have devised this "prep" start you off easily. Step 1: Take tablets. Step 2: Mix solution. Step 3: Wait for a bowel movement. Drink all the solution. Step 4: You will have approximately 10 "loose bowel movements," then approximately 200-300 more. You will lose count and for good reason. Some movements you will think should count as 4 or 5. Some movements will jump the shark past your bowels to include the hairs of your head and the nails of your toes. Your conception of "bowel movement" will become transcendent, all-encompassing, with spiritual, emotional and existential components. Your "bowel" is everywhere and nowhere, nothing and everything. You will be forever changed. Congratulations, Grasshopper, your "bowel" is now "prepped." "Prepped" to receive 60 inches of fiber optic technology where the sun don't shine.

Everyone says "the next part" is not as bad as the prep part. Hell, brave, spunky Katie Couric allowed hers to be televised. TCG considered this, enrolling his friends in the media to help memorialize his transformation from wild-at-heart rapscallion to another old dude awaiting his turn at shuffle board. A good idea? Not so much. Catch the LiveBlog instead. Say a prayer, light a candle and get out of the way.

Would You Travel 11 Hours in a Plane, Ruin Your Chances to be President and Destroy Your Family for this Woman?

"Maria" has now been revealed to be Maria Belen Chapur. Pictured above in a badly focussed and oddly composed photograph at an art opening or something is the 25 mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail that entitled Governor Sanford to lifetime membership in the Dumbass Club. "Governor Sanford, meet Governor Spitzer. I'm sure you will have much to discuss." The "curves" of Sra. Chapur's hips which turned the Gov into such a goofy sounding horn-dog are readily apparent and abundant. Ay caramba!

Detritus: Buddy Ebsen

Stuff you probably would never have known had I not used Buddy Ebsen as a standin for the Kings Mountain lottery winner:

• Born Christian Rudolph Ebsen, Jr., April 2, 1908.



• Grew up in Palm Beach, Florida, where his father had a dance school--huh?



• Got his start as a brother/sister dance/vaudeville act with sister Vilma--The Baby Astaires



• Was cast as the Tinman in Wizard of Oz, but had to abandon role when he bacame seriously ill due to an allergy to the aluminum dust used as makeup



• His goal in life was to be a doctor, but that ambition was thwarted by the Florida land bust in the 20's



• 6', 3.5", measured left



• Avid sailor, owned a boat building company, won several Trans-Pacific races on his 35' catamaran



• Nailed Donna Douglas (Elly Mae) on a regular basis



• Max Baer, Jr., (Jethro) too



• Duke, too



• Nancy Kulp (Miss Jane), too

Stay Thirsty My Friends

OK, so now Mark Sanford has reappeared from his "hiking the Appalachian Trail" and, by that, he meant making a last minute decision to fly to Buenos Aires for a week to "drive along the coast." The Gov also said BA was a "beautiful city." Why not? Hey, Blame It On Rio!

Although today makes it only one week that TCG has lived in South Carolina, even temporarily, I am overwhelmed by my love for this state and its leaders. Rusty DePass. The Ghost of Strom Thurmond. And now, Mark Sanford! Let's throw a tea bagger in honor of the safe return from his Most Excellent Adventure!

Yes, TCG can see POTUS 2012 as the next most obvious step for such a manly, cute, adventurous fellow. A free spirit. And Dos Equis says they employ The Most Interesting Man In The World. Screw them. I and my fellow South Carolinians leave them in the dust. Stay thirsty my friends.

Old Jed's A Millionaire!

Although the winner of the $88 million Powerball lottery payoff from King's Mountain, NC, is scheduled to come forward later today, TCG has learned his identity through well-placed sources at the Commission. The winner is pictured at left and is identified as Jedediah "Jed" Clampett, of the Kings Mountain suburb of Earl, or, possibly, Grover. Mr. Clampett, a widower, has one daughter, Elly May, and is reported to enjoy huntin and whittlin. Ken Lewis, oops, Milburn Drysdale will reportedly be handling the family's finances.

Walk On The Wilde Side

Self analysis and the ensuing self loathing are to me like gardening is to others. Each new round of self analysis yields its seasonal blossoms of deficiencies of character, behavior and appearance. Quite simply, the more I find out about myself, the more I find to loathe. It makes this grumpy man happy.

And now, like manna from heaven, comes the FaceBook Quiz. The types of questions heretofore reserved for beauty pageant contestants are now offered up many times daily to us FaceBook devotees. And not just stuff like, “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” No, good gnarly stuff like “Which Old School WWF wrestler are you?” (In TCG’s case, Ted DiBiase—The Million Dollar Man, but you probably already figured that out.) “Which glam rock star are you?” “If you were a car, what part of the drive train would you be?” I made that last one up.

And the great thing is……you don’t have to answer the question. You take the quiz and it provides the thoughtful analysis that generates an answer and its reasoning. Many times, I don’t bother to publish the results because either a) I have satisfied my daily need for self loathing, or b) The answer and its explanation are just too damn embarrassing, even for me.

This brings us to the crux of the biscuit. Yesterday, TCG took the “Which Crazy Author Are You?” Possible answers included, inter alia, Hunter S. Thompson, Oscar Wilde, Edgar Allan Poe, Thomas Pynchon, blah blah, Crazy Author, blah blah. TCG’s answer: Oscar Wilde. OK, that’s possible. Very cool, sophisticated, witty cat based upon what I know of the gentleman.

Here’s what the Man Behind the Curtain had to say about this selection: You are funny, witty, charming... and have, um, "unique" personal tastes. You like to have fun, you don't hide who you are, and you don't particularly give a damn what people think about you. (TCG: So far, so good, pretty on target) You're just as likely to be seen in an all-male Amsterdam brothel (Wait, WTF?!?! Emphasis added.) as a London literary society dinner. You see beauty in life, and humor in tragedy. If it weren't for the hosts' fears of you saying or doing something indecent, you might very well be the perfect dinner companion.

Oh My God. I’ve struck the mother lode, the Bakken Formation, of self loathing. So, I’m either having dinner and the hosts' are terrified I’m about to pull or drop something out of my pants or I’m whoring around with Hans Brinker and Bruno? Homosexual (their implication) or homophobic (my reaction)? Not that there’s anything wrong with the former. And now I can loathe my reaction to the latter. My life is an embarrassment of riches.

BTW, I did not publish the results of that one. Someone else tell my why.

The Curmudgeon's Lament: Players

To maintain one's sanity in this "crazy, topsy turvy," but ultimately mediocre world, one needs to surround oneself with advisers and companions of the highest quality. Fellow travelers, yes. Yes men, no. To that end, meet Leslie, aka Lensey, aka The Official Photographer. TOP will provide not only visual documentation of our journey but also supplement the blog with images that defy TCG's crafty wordplay. Everyone knows a dog is man's best friend. Apropos of TCG's personality, then, let me introduce you to my cats: Adidas aka Ungrateful Feline 1 (UF1) and Teensy aka Ungrateful Feline 2 (UF2). Their place in literature now assured, they are free to return to their naps. So there you have it, the Sweet and the Sour, the Yin and the Yang.

And away we go.......