Charlie's Books

Charlie's Books
Buon Giorno, Amici!

Our motto ...

Leave the (political) party. Take the cannoli.

"It always seems impossible until it's done." Nelson Mandela

Right now 6 Stella crime novels are available on Kindle for just $.99 ... Eddie's World has been reprinted and is also available from Stark House Press (Gat Books).

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Holy Bench Press Batman! … No He Can’t … Roman Polanski … Monday Night Foosball … Verdicts … The Lock Of The Week … and the DOC says ...


Holy Bench Press Batman! ... for those of yous who think weightlifting isn’t a contact sport, read this: Stafon Johnson is a tailback at USC (and a good one). The other day while doing bench presses with 275 pounds, the bar somehow slipped from his hand and crushed his throat. From the LA Times. Johnson underwent 7 hours of emergency surgery after the accident:

Johnson was performing a "bench press" lift with what doctors were told was 275 pounds when the bar apparently slipped from his hand and landed on his throat. USC officials said an assistant strength and conditioning coach was working with Johnson as a "spotter" when the accident happened, but he was unable to stop the bar from injuring the player.

Initially spitting blood from his mouth and nose, Johnson was rushed by ambulance to the hospital.

At 5 feet 11 and 210 pounds, Johnson was able to survive the accident because the muscles around his neck helped him keep open a breathing passage, Hinika said at a news conference Tuesday.

"Had that been any one of us, meaning me, I would not have survived," Hinika said. "His neck was so solid and so muscular, that actually helped maintain his airway."

Johnson is being fed through a tube in his stomach but could resume eating normally in only a few days. Hinika said the tailback probably would remain hospitalized for at least a week and there was no timetable for his recovery or release. He said the reconstruction could require revisions in the future, and that hospital staff were monitoring the running back for infections and other complications.

Now, I can’t imagine how you lose the bar, unless you’re grip is without wrapping the thumb. I’ve seen guys do that several times (resting the bar in their hands with their fists closed (as opposed to open and wrapped around the bar) and I’ve always thought it was dangerous. I can’t imagine how this happened but the kid is sure lucky to have been so powerfully developed around the neck.

Oy-vey ... my calls for Saturday’s RAW meet go like this: 325, 375, 390? ...

No He Can’t ... or maybe “so far he hasn’t” ... because so far President Obama is one big O-fer ... he followed Bush’s lead and gave into Wall Street’s extortion (and appointed one of their own to lead the charge), he hasn’t passed a single piece of legislation regulating what had caused the fiscal problem in the first place (not one) ... we’re still not out of Iraq (what he labeled “the wrong war in the wrong place at the wrong time”) ... we’re not out of Afghanistan (and in fact have dug in deeper) ... we haven’t caught Bin Laden (if anyone cares anymore) ... and it looks like we won’t be getting national health insurance anytime soon.

So, amici, you tell me the difference between this clown and the last one.

The picture above is a turd (or several) like the featured celebrity of the next thread.

Roman Polanski ... I say we give it the thumbs up or thumbs down test. What would you do if it were your daughter? If you think it’s okay for a 43 year old to feed your 13 year old daughter Quaaludes and champagne and then forcibly rape her, then plead guilty to the charges and hop a plane out of the country for the next 30+ years, give it a thumbs up (and then have your focking head examined). On the other hand, if you think like we at Knucksline, Mr. Polanski should have his sphincter muscles expanded with a very slow moving Prius, vote thumbs down.

The idea that 30+ years of living the life of a very well to do fugitive somehow precludes his arrest now can only come from Hollywood’s ivory towers. Unbelievable.

Monday Night Foosball ... “The Dallas Cowgirls vs. the Carolina Putz’s … take the Points and the Putz’s ... big upset ... Wade Phillips takes the next step toward his early retirement.”

Did I write that?

Maybe DOC has something ... maybe reading Knucksline and then going the other way is your key to financial freedom ...

Verdicts ...

LD (Larry David is back and Curb Your Enthusiasm couldn’t be funnier). This show remains at the top of my list. Mad Men got a whole lot more interesting with the shaving off of a British foot last episode ... but if Joan Holloway is really leaving ... so am I!

The World According to Garp ... oh, well, maybe I should’ve stopped where I was last post (Tuesday). Finished it and was sorely disappointed by the way too long ending/epilogue. It become overtly silly by then and I couldn’t wait to get through with it. Oh, those last 100 pages … I’ll still be seeing the movie but more out of curiosity than some burning desire.

Exodus ... by Leon Uris ... couldn’t finish it ... frankly, it started off so canned, I couldn’t get beyond page 40 … no more Uris for moi. This was a shame for me because the subject matter (UK/Israel/Palestine) has always fascinated me. The Irish-British history lesson of Trinity was fascinating ... QB7 was a bit of a disappointment (I’d already known much of the history of the nazi war crimes trials) but this was perhaps too much Uris in one year ...

Lady Chatterley’s Lover ... great premise (a young woman’s husband is wounded and paralyzed from the waist down during WWI) ... Constance Chatterley is in her prime and missing out on life. She’s a clever girl and very observant of male foibles ... although a bit heavy on the various introspections (and hardly ever given a warning when there's a transition from one to another), an intriguing read (at least so far --- about 150 pages to go). I can sure see where it turned some stuffy heads back in the day ... but fock’em for being so stuffy. LCL seems like a very appropriate read for any woman staring down the commitment barrel.

This one wound up in the British court tried under the absurd Obscene Publications Act of 1959. One of the objections was to the frequent use of the word "fuck" and its derivatives. Another objection involves the use of the word "cunt". Geesh, imagine if they ate dinner at my house?

Just kidding, amici. At Casa Stella, we say “fock” or “Rhymes with bunt” ...

Anyway, it was a not guilty verdict (fortunately) and it is a recommended read for those interested in what upset the apple cart in 1960.

The Lock Of The Week ...
oh-vey, not again ... don’t curse the Bengalis, Knuckman ... but the football Gods have been zeroing in closer and closer, amici ... they’re talking to me loud and clear this week (or was that Spartacus?) ... Frank Gore was injured on the first play of the game last week or that lock (San Fernando 45’s over the Domed Ones) was indeed a LOCK. This week the football Gods are whispering in my ear ... “Gordo (Fatso), you’re going to bomb out in the Weightlifting meet Saturday, but the Cincinnati Bengalis will crush the Cleveland Brownies and Mr. Mangenius will have run out of QB’s to play Hide the Offense with."

Gordo? What’s up with that?

Bet $200 In Knucks We Trust Bucks on the Bengalis and the OVER ... and recoup what I lost the first 3 weeks of the season.

Oy-vey, vey iz mir ...


And the DOC says ...

Hey Chaz,

So, Kevin Jennings is the new "Safe School Czar" or at least he will be until Saturday midnight when he resigns. Now, was Jennings the first choice or was Obama waiting to see if Roman Polanski was going to be available?

Where does the Bamster find these people?

Does he know anybody who is not fucked up? I think he just hands out these czar-ships to people he passes in the hall while on his way to David Letterman rehearsals.

"Hello Mr. President. I would like to be your new Firearms Control Czar."

"What's your name?"

"John Hinckley, sir."

"That sounds good. Tell Gibbs (Mrs. Doubtfire) to put out the announcement."

I'm waiting for Gary Busey to be crowned as the new Mental Health Czar.

On Friday, Obama will be heading to Denmark to make sure that the 2016 Olympics will be held in Chicago. Luckily we have hundreds of millions of dollars laying around to put on a show for foreigners who hate us anyway. The only saving grace to having the Olympics in Chicago is we will save a bunch of money on security. Even suicide bombers are afraid to walk around in Chicago.

Due to the First Lady's busy schedule, you know with the garden and everything, she couldn't wait until Friday, so she took the other 747 and full security team.

No carbon footprint there and the money drain is running free and fast.

It's scary Chaz, 3 more years of this crap and then a race riot at the end when for obviously rascist reasons President Fredo doesn't get re-elected.

Have a nice day, boyo

Monday, September 28, 2009

Monday Morning Quarterbacking …


It’s all football today ...

Lock this already ... oy-vey, amici, zero for three! Did the forty-fives get robbed or what? Okay, okay, I can’t pick on favre beans anymore. The geriatric really did pull one out of his ass yesterday, but the San Fernando Forty-Fives lost that game when their special teams broke down at the start of the 2nd half and allowed the Domed Ones to return a kickoff. Hey, Mike Singletary is the man ... somebody in Buffalo pay attention, please. Mike Singletary is the next GREAT coach. A no nonsense guy who gets his players to play over their heads and believe in the confidence they attain week to week. Where Favre bean head gets credit from the ugly one is the amount of hits this guy takes—quite a few. I’m still not as impressed as his HOF stats (because the intercepts kind of negate the TD’s for me), but he did pull it off when it counted yesterday.

Coach Imbecile ... Dick Jauron stays with the no huddle, no win against another high powered offense and it was probably just enough time for the Bills defense to stay on the field to collapse, once again, in the 4th quarter (when the Aints scored 17 unanswered points) ... speaking of unanswered points, the only Bills score (from the vaunted NO HUDDLE, NO WIN) offense was a fake field goal. The Aints had the ball 7 more minutes than we did, ran 10 more plays (because they were running us over and didn’t stop the clock with 50+ passes) and our offense, minus the freak fake field goal, scored a goose egg.

The no huddle ... great idea, guys.

Press Conferences ... “I just go with the play that was called,” T.O. (no catches) said over and over and over when baited for some new controversy by reporters looking for a scoop. Coach Imbecile (the Alan Alda of the NFL) seemed happy to stay in it for “most of the game” … geesh. Trent Edwards had the usual excuses and “it’s something to learn from” mantra.

Next week my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills play the much hated Miami Dolphinations in Miami ... the wildcat vs. the no huddle, no win. Maybe if it’s really hot and humid coach Imbecile can find a way (no huddle) to keep the defense on the field for 45 minutes this game.

Fireman Ed ... I love this guy!

Y-E-T-S, Yets, Yets, Yets ... well, I’m still not as convinced as NFL pundits, but Ryan does have the Moonachie Yets playing over their heads. They beat a very good Tennessee Tuxedo team yesterday and there’s no knocking last week’s win over the cheaterfaces. I don’t think Ryan does himself any favors playing Maverick with some of his comments, but it’s nice to see some fire back in the NFL. Hopefully, they’re over confident when we play them October 18 in the Moonachie Meadowlands ... or when we utilize that other genius football decision by the Bills management ... our December 3rd in a dome in Toronto game against Y-E-T another division rival ... last year it was the Dolphinations we played in a dome in December in Toronto ... good to know the Bills management is taking advantage of that home field advantage.

Oy-vey ...

Around the tournament wrap up:

The Bengalis ... kicked ass against the Iron Ores yesterday … very impressive.

Wes Cravens … suddenly Eric Mangenius is looking like a dumbski.

The Lionesses … of Detroit took it to the Yellowskins … goodbye coach Zorn.

The Felines … over the Sam Houston Rangers in a close one … honestly, does anybody care?

Cheaterfaces … win one over the Falconless … cheaters should be 1-2, but the Y-E-T-S, Yets, Yets, Yets! are 3-0 anyway. Go Moonachie!

Packerless … beat up on a high school team, the St. Louis Blues … another one nobody cares about.

Moonachie II (Giants) … crush the Buc Stops in Tampe 24-0 … Moonachie (the junior league edition) is for real.

Dog Killers … Michael Vick looked like he might be having nightmares but the Chefs are no match for anybody.

Bearless … over the Sea Pigeons ... but it sure wasn’t easy.

Raiderettes … crushed by the Bronckettes. Could Denver be for real?

Chargerless … beat up the Dolphinations (which made moi happy) but that had much to do with a terrible Dolphin fumble on the one yard line after driving the length of the field and Pennington’s 4,000th shoulder injury.

Arizona by way of St. Louis Cardinals … prove last year was a parity fluke. Pure garbage. Coltless took them to the woodshed.

And tonight’s featured matchup … The Dallas Cowgirls vs. the Carolina Putz’s … take the Points and the Putz’s … big upset … Wade Phillips takes the next step toward his early retirement.


And the DOC says ...

Just a quick note to the Amicis:

If you want to live job-free like the Docster: Wait for Friday, write down the Knucks Lock of the Week. Sell everything you own... houses, cars, jewelry, children, organs. Put it all on dem bums dat got no freaking chance to win. I've been doing it all season and I just use the unemployment checks to pay for my valet.

Unfortunately, this system is not as effective for the Kentucky Derby etc. It will only let you know which horse won't win.

Knucksline... "your key to financial freedom".


Friday, September 25, 2009

W … The World According to Garp … RAW … Moma, Popa and Daughter … John Edwards … Dancing around the trial … Lock of the Week …Knuckmeter


W ... the DOC sent me the above picture in an email ... to which I responded: Seriously, you're home too long now. Get off your wrinkled old ass and find a job.

I did laugh at this one ... until I realized what the picture was obviously about. Some grade school kid asked “W” how much 6 + 2 makes ...

The World According to Garp ... Once again, I’m probably one of the few fools who never read this John Irving novel before, but better late than never, amici. Funny from the get-go, Garp has me laughing out loud (Please note: not LOL) several times while reading. I intend to see the movie soon after I finish the book (100 pages to go).

RAW ... no, amici, it isn’t a WWE wrestling event ... but an event it is … Saturday, October 3 in Pitman, New Jersey ... RAW’s state BP meet wherein all lifters are required to lift without any aids (except a weight lifting belt); where the rules are strictly enforced but at the end of the day you know EXACTLY how much weight you can push on that given day. There are no fugazy benching shirts (or any other lifting device, which for the life of me, I never understood—I mean, why not use a focking forklift?) ... there are no fugazy knee or wrist wraps (this will be particularly tough for me because I use a wrist wrap for my left wrist, which is hampered by nasty carpal tunnel, but cannot in a RAW meet; so I can not only shave some extra pounds off my bench, I can look forward to about 2-3 days of genuine carpal tunnel pain afterward). So it goes ...

The side benefit (below) is I get weighed on a real to life cattle weigher ... so I’ll know the exact weight to start the all important 2009-2010 ... Knuckmeter.

Moma, Popa and Daughter ... McKenzie Phillips’ autobiography discusses her consensual sexual relationship with her daddy (a singer in the famous 60’s band, The Momas and The Papas). Fortunately for Popa Bear, he’s dead and doesn’t have to read it.

John Edwards ... “Hey, I got a great idea. Since you believe in me so much, you say the kid is yours and deal with the shit your wife’ll give you and then I’ll become President. How’s that?”

Apparently, it seemed like a good idea to Andrew Young for most of the presidential campaign through the Rielle Hunter scandal and up until recently when the genius finally realized he’d been left holding the smoking gun (except the DNA wouldn’t match the prints).

Oy-vey ... these are the people we let run for office. John “how’s my hair look” Edwards (the self proclaimed potentate for the poor who spent $400-$800 bucks per haircut) and his loyal staff of what can only be described as morons.

I mean, seriously, brother. You wanna tell your wife I crashed your car, it’s one thing ...

Dancing around the trial ... More GOP fun ... The Hammer (yeah, right) has not only managed to dance his way onto some dumb TV show, he’s also managed to dance around a prosecution for violating campaign finance laws; the prosecutor has still not brought the case before a jury (even though a Texas grand jury indicted the horses ass in 2005). Gee, I wonder why?

Knucksline says, if political criminals are going to continue to skirt justice (and get to dance like fools on TV), then free John Gotti Jr. (who’s been to trial three times and was never convicted, although now they’re trying him with a boatload of informants who have “cut deals” to testify). Imagine the gov’t went after its own that way? I sure do … and I get wood just thinking about it.

If Mr. Delay had to face the same “justice” as the rest of us, Hammer Time would take on a whole new meaning, wouldn’t it?

Lock of the Week ... San Fernando Forty-fives, a team I vastly underrated (and now bow to because of coach Mike Singletary’s coaching prowess) will dump the Minnesota Domed Ones on their Favre bean heads this Sunday, 27-17 and Gore will outrun Peterson not because he’s a better back, but because the Domed Defense is as fugazy as their dopey stadium.

The Knuckmeter ... yep, you guessed it ... at 12:00 midnight October 4th (the day after the RAW meet), the ugly one goes back on the Afghanistan diet (eating rocks and everything else that isn’t fun) ... the goal is to drop 75 this go ... I have until April 1, 2010 (the scheduled publication date of Johnny Porno because let’s face it, the porn industry is not gonna wanna offer me cameo roles at this size) ... but this year we’re giving prizes (to be announced) to the over/under winner. For past reference ... there was one year I dropped 79 pounds in 9 months and another year I gained 15 ... Good luck to all a yous!


Monday, September 21, 2009

Lock this … Mean Green …. How ‘bout those Bills … Dreams of Joe Scarborough … Mini-reviews …


Lock this ... Okay, so I don’t pick winners very often.

Okay, ever. Then again, if you take my lock of the week (Cheeseheads over the Bengalis) and go the other way ... well, you’re in the green.

Mean Green ... Speaking of Green ... The Moonachie Y-E-T-S, Yets, Yets, Yets sure gave it to Brady’s bunch of Cheaterfaces. You gotta love it. Those bums should be 0-2 right now ... and the Yets are looking good.

How about those Bills ... my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills DESTROYED (okay, so it wasn’t that big a win) The Buc Stops In Tampa.

And how ‘bout those Jills! They ain’t so bad either.

Dreams of Joe Scarborough ... Oy-vey, amici, the world is upside down. The other day I woke up after my usual anxiety dream about alligators and Rigolleto. I’m on a couch surrounded by the dinosaurs and I'm trying to grab Rigolleto. He's jumping from one alligator to another while they snap at him. I tell the boss I had my nightmare again and here’s what she comes up with (all smiles while she’s telling me):

“Oh, I had a dream about Joe Scarborough. He came to the door all soaking wet from the rain and he made a pass at me.”

“Joe Scarborough, huh?” I said.

“Yes, isn’t it weird? I told him to give me his clothes, that I would put them in the dryer for him and he made a pass at me.”

Gee, I wonder why?” I said (sarcasm intended) “Did he make this pass in the raw?”

“No, I gave him one of your robes. I told him, ‘No, Joe, I’m married.’”

“First you let him strip and then you tell him you’re married?”

“I was just being nice.”

“That’s one way to put it. And then?”

“He went to kiss me and I told him I was married.” Here she stopped to laugh
(at me, I assume). “And I told him my husband watches you in the morning.”

“Apparently not enough,” I said.

Mini Reviews ...

The Heart of the Matter ... the Graham Greene classis is always worth another read and that’s what I did this past week. Scobie is torn between loves, two women and his God. He sees himself as the cause of pain for those he loves most and cannot escape his fate. I first read this back in a Dave Gresham class and I’m sure I didn’t get 90% of it. I read it a second time maybe a dozen years ago and thought it was powerful. Last week it was even more so.

Swan Boats at Four ... A George V. Higgins novel that took me 4 tries over a dozen years to finally finish. I’m a Higgins devotee but there are some books the master of dialogue wrote that just didn’t work for me. This is one of them. Way too much dead dialogue in a setup I just didn’t buy. There were times I reread paragraphs four times before I knew WTF was going on. Higgins dealt with the world of small bankers vs. federal regulators in this one (how ironic is this; they were actually doing too much of their jobs in the novel) and a husband-wife relationship that although is believable at first, winds up falling short at the end. It wasn’t so much I didn’t believe the wife fell for the scam as I didn’t see her putting up with her husband. The title relates to a picture that is part and parcel of the scam story that nearly drove me to toss this one aside one more time. Skip it.

Mad Men ... I didn’t get to see the episode last night yet but so far this season has been a bummer for moi ... I want more of Draper’s war past revealed. I want more of each characters background revealed but most of all I want Joan Holloway ... Oh, baby, do I want Joan Holloway. After the Principessa’s Joe Scarborough dream, I think I’m more than entitled.

Actually, the Principessa did give me dispensation for Ms. Holloway should that fantasy ever make it beyond an Ambien/tequila cocktail.


And the DOC says ...

I told you, Chaz,

You don't go against my Bengals. Amazing as it may seem, an armed quarterback just doesn't get sacked that often.

Now, this whole Joe Scarborough thing is very disturbing. I listen to Joe in the morning. He seems like a nice fellow. A little liberal compared to me, but basically a good "Joe". Luckily for you, I took a course on the psychology of dreams in 1971. Unfortunately, I have a distinct fuzziness in my consciousness from 1970 through 1976, but I am reasonably sure that I had an exceptionally good time. Let's face it, it didn't get any better than being 18 in 1969.

But I digress. Essentially, the Principessa wants to get it on with a sanctimonious, opinionated, fat guy. Hokey smokes, Bullwinkle, that's you Chaz. Problem solved!

I'm also attaching a picture for you to ponder whenever you doubt the stark reality of the sacred sacrament of matrimony.

The caption says: A Wife, because beer is heavy ...

Later, dude

Friday, September 18, 2009

Pre-existing beatings … Who Dey Revolution … The Lock of the Week … Calling All Knucklemaniacs …


Pre-existing beatings ... as it turns out, if you’re getting beat by your spouse (or any family member), in eight states Insurance companies can deny you coverage for the injuries sustained during new beatings because it is a pre-existing condition.

I can just hear the retort from the right (DOC): “Well, if those getting pounded on a regular basis had a gun ...”

Oy-vey ...

Who Dey Revolution ... created by dedicated Bengali fans anxious for a Super Bowl ring ... they have their own preamble and manifesto ... they are fans looking to better the product representing their city (anybody in Orchard Park paying attention here?) ... they want owner Mike Brown (son of legendary NFL icon Paul Brown) to hire a general manager (since Mike has done such a lousy job on his own) ... they want things all fans want, but they’re organized and on the march. Bravo, Who Dey Revolution! If you have HBO On Demand, check out the hard knocks from this preseason—it’s the Bengalis and some interesting contract negotiations that wound up flushed down the toilet when the #1 pick showed up weighing more than a Buick and then broke his foot three days into training camp (for which he was already 4 weeks late).

The Lock of the Week ... speaking of Bengalis ... so far we’re 0-1 on this but the future looks bright. The Cincinnati Begalis are playing the Packerless in Green Bay ... lay the points and take the cheese heads 34-10.

Calling All Knucklemaniacs ... the ugly one needs a lift to a power lifting meet (bench only) in Pitman, NJ on October 3 (oy-vey) …

Being a one car family (and one old car at that), and since the old ball and chain uses said Stellamobile to commute to and from her Bellevue psychiatric internship (well, at least she’ll have an excuse {deaf} for not hearing the same voices), the Knuckster is forced to seek transportation elsewhere. I tried the DOC but the expert marksman and killer of animals both humongous and tiny is babysitting Saturday (and for the foreseeable future it appears).

Babysitting? Ha! What a manly thing to do ... and on weekends, no less!

Knucksline viewers take note that my mouse sitting responsibilities were weeknights only.

No ball and chain, no DOC, the stepson’s car goes to work with him ... leaves me at the mercy of the rest of yous (or the train or bus) ... and if that’s not arrogant enough a request, I have to know before I send in my meet application (by Monday the latest). Now, I’ll swing for the gas and/or tolls, and the food going and coming, (yes, there will be lots of food) and any bar bills that might slip in ... and should we wind up in Atlantic City or something, I might pay your way on the wonder wheel (or whatever they call it there) ... and you’ll also get a copy of whatever dopey book I wrote you might like ... or a better book by a better author (I have many such books at home).

Transportation secured ... Brian has stepped up ... and Big Paulie'll be there too.

Check out Big Paulie ... at the U.S. Open.


And the DOC says ...

Hey Chaz,

I thought you were inviting me for a day of frivolity at your weight lifting competition. I didn't realize I was only invited to chauffeur your fat ass all over Jersey. Not that I don't think that it would be fun hanging around with a bunch of fat, sweaty muscleheads whose only claim to fame is picking up and putting down very heavy things. Couldn't they at least bring them somewhere? At least then it would be good training for a career at... oh, I don't know... Home Depot?

And you have the nerve to pick on my baby sitting. This shows our different life paths. I am shaping the future of America and you are picking up very heavy things. No wonder none of your kids will talk to you.

Pre-existing conditions are in my list of the top 1,278 things that piss me off. By the time your fifty, everything is a pre-existing condition. You go to the doctor, he asks, "So, how long have you had arthritis?" You say, "Since yesterday around 3:30."

He knows you're lying. You've been breeding that arthritis all your life (especially if your hobby is picking up very heavy things).

Bingo-bango... pre-existing condition.

The Bengals... my favorite team. You probably think I'm joking. I love those whacky scalawags. Here is a team that personifies the 2nd amendment. The right to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. It shall not be infringed when I'm in a night club chugging Courvoisier. It shall not be infringed when I'm driving my Bentley all tooted-up. It shall not be infringed when I'm beating my wife after a bad game. It shall not be infringed when I'm watching dog fights with Mr. Vick. My mofo rights shall not be infringed.

God bless America and the Bengals, the NFL's first and foremost, all-felony football team.

Seriously though, I was only kidding about the weight lifting competition. The next time you go to one of your Roid Rage Rodeos, I'm in. Maybe I'll even cut the sleeves off my shirt, slap on one of my granddaughter's Dora the Explorer tattoos and pick up heavy things with you. To me, nothing says fun like picking up heavy things.

Have a nice weekend, buddy-boy

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Happy Birthday Rigoletto …No Huddle, No Win … The Horror …Kanye West


Happy Birthday Rigoletto ... the super doggie turned 8/56 Sunday, September 13, 2009. What a dog, amici. What a dog!

Spartacus refused to attend the birthday bash and was still sulking this morning when I left for work ... that is one spoiled mouse.

No Huddle, No Win … Going back to the Marv Levy era of losing Super Bowls (one after another after another after another), I was distraught the day the Bills introduced the vaunted “no huddle” offense ... not only was it a poor choice to switch offenses mid-season, it proved to be their undoing in the Super Bowl against the Moonachie Giants. Back then the Bills had arguably the best offensive line in the NFL and were known as a smash mouth offense (that could play in the NFC east). But flattering statistics, easy victories (like the one against the Raiderettes in the AFC Championship that year) and a coach that couldn’t say “no” brought a team destined for greatness to its knees.

The coaching clinic Parcells and cheaterface Belichik gave to Levy and his staff is the stuff nightmares are made of (for Bills fans). Even though Thurman Thomas ran for 135 yards on 13 carries (mostly because the Moonachie Giants were playing with two and/or three down lineman), the Bills continued to throw the ball and put their defense back on the field. Time of possession in that game was a lopsided 2:1 ratio; the Giants Hostetler watched the play clock run down and shortened the game even more so than the dopey Bills offense tried to. On a crucial fourth and 1 (on the drive immediately after the Bills had scored a safety), Kelly threw a pass to Andre Reed rather than hand it off or run it himself. The Bills turned the ball over and the Giants picked up the momentum. And with all the game clock mismanagement of that game, the Bills still should have won the game with a field goal, but the football Gods were out to punish the horrible coaching job that day (or was it the fact that some of the Bills were out drinking all night the night before the game?). Either way, the no huddle failed miserably in the only test that counts.

The Horror ... when my emotions run wild ... started again last night when once again I was sucked into the misery that has become watching my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills play a Monday night game against a much better team than they are, play way over their heads and in the end succumb from yet another horrible coaching job. While the Bills were helped along with some pretty awful refereeing (that last roughing the passer was sure a stinker), they also did their best to shoot themselves in the foot over and over with holding penalties, offensive off-sides, illegal formations, etc. And still they were outplaying the cheaterfaces from New England and maintaining a lead through most of the game.

The no huddle worked in the first quarter when the fat slobs on the cheaterface defensive line were sucking wind. But once the crowd noise became a factor (those prissy ass bastard fans probably assumed they’d win and wouldn’t have to cheer their team on before they found themselves losing), Edwards (Bills’ QB) was having to waste precious play clock time calling audible signals (giving the fat slobs on the cheaterface defensive line time to catch their breadth anyway) and it was pretty pointless (except for generating a few extra off-sides calls against the Bills).

The no huddle proved once again to be the dumbest possible choice against a team that excels on offense (so why not give the cheaterfaces the ball an extra 14+ minutes ... let Brady throw more passes than the Bills ran in total ... and keep our defense on the field twice as long)? Makes sense to most imbeciles, I'd have to imagine, so why not Dick Jauron? He's been an imbecile since he got to Buffalo. The offensive coordinator the Bills fired was the lucky one. Unfortunately us fans can't fire ourselves. We have to live through this shit over and over again. Four consecutive Super Bowl losses obviously wasn't enough to convince the masterminds in Buffalo that it doesn't work. When the Redskins went in and out of it during their Super Bowl victory over the Bills, it worked because they could go in and out of it (not live in it). Or maybe coach Gibbs was just fucking with Marv ...

I would've.

And lets hear it for coach imbecile's game clock management. WTF was that at the end of the game? Spend your last two time outs back to back with 40 seconds on the clock? Pure genius.

As for the kick return from hell ... well, you know what would happen if this were Knucks' team … the special teams coach would’ve been handed a compass and a flashlight and told to go park cars ... McKelvin (the fumbler) would’ve been on waivers before the flight home.

Coach imbecile's news conference quote: "I have no problem with him taking it out of the end zone." Of course not, you're a fucking IMBECILE!

Not to excuse the defensive coordinator who didn’t bother checking the tight end (with defensive ends too exhausted to pass rush anymore) both times cheaterface Watson went down the middle for a touchdown pass. Our DC would’ve been pushing the bus home.

And then there's Dave Zeltserman ... oy-vey, this guy from Beantown (i.e., Cheaterface Nation) is still crying over the spilled milk of 18-1 (Go Moonachie!). I was emailing him with up to the quarter updates all night and dreaded having to read his return mail this morning ... but true to the delusional form of most cheaterface nation fans, he thinks his team will win the Super Bowl this year.

Right ... the FBI will find White Bulger first.

Two years ago I had to go through this shit when the Bills gave away a win to the Cowgirls. Last night was the straw that broke the Knuckster’s back. We are the worst organization in any sport on any planet in any universe. Ralph Wilson is a breeder of nice guys. Marv Levy was a nice guy. I’m sure Dick Jauron is a nice guy. You know what? I hate nice guys. Nice guys don't win. Nice guys can't get it done. You want to fight a war with Alan fuckin' Alda, knock yourself out. Me, I'll take George Patton every time (and George HATED Sicilians). One can only hope that when the Bills are moved to the great country estate of Canada, somebody up there in fig leaf land has a fucking clue how to run a football operation.

Statistics are for losers and in the end the cheaterfaces from New England will no doubt run up a lot of points with their can’t run the ball offense again this year. They'll throw and be successful against the usual cast of crappy defenses, but in the end there is no way they get past defenses like those in Maryland, Tennessee or Pennsylvania. And if the Bills can run them over like that, foregetaboutit ... Brady and his bunch will need to score on every possession.

Final thought on last night … what a gip, man. What a fuckin' gip.

Kanye West ... what a jerkoff. I remember when he stopped me from donating to the Katrina relief fund. I never understood WTF his "talent" is supposed to be. Aside from leaving Mike Myers looking like he'd been tazed, this Kanye putz seems to take pride in being an asshole.

When not rapping, the genius speaks like this: “Yeah, you know, obviously, you know, I deal with hurt and, you know, so many, you know, celebrities, they never take the time off, and I've never taken the time off to really, you know, I just, music after music and tour after tour on tour, and I'm just ashamed that my hurt caused someone else's hurt."

You know ... like a moron.


And the DOC says ...

Sure enough, Chaz, I looked up "self-centered bastard" on Wikipedia and there was indeed a picture of you.

Iran almost has a nuke, swine flu is sweeping the globe, we have a president who can't figure out why there is a desk in the oval office when a foos-ball table would take up the same space and you want us all to spend our time celebrating the birth of your drug addicted mutt or lamenting the all too familiar thrashing of your beloved Buffalo Bills. I won't even go into Kanye West because you probably first heard of him 2 days ago.

Here are some possible suggestions to relieve your malaise.

Tie a piece of poisoned cheese from the furball's collar. Spartacus takes care of problem #1 (furball)... poisoned cheese takes care of problem #2 (Spartacus).

Tatoo a circle around that ridiculous buffalo tatoo and convince the curious that you are a staunch devotee' of the nickel.

We will deal with Acorn's tax advice for the up and coming cat-house owners in the coming weeks. As everyone knows, most brothels go bankrupt in the first 6 months... sorry, that was restaurants. As a matter of fact, the only brothel to ever go bankrupt was the Bunny Ranch in Nevada, shortly after the government took it over.

Take care, Buckeroo

PS: If you are looking for something to worry about, the temperature in my pool today was 67 degrees.

I'm afraid that it might be time to go back to work... YIKES!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

9-11 … Next 9-11 … April 2010 … Mafiya … The Republican Answer to Health Care …


9-11 ... eight years ago we were all devastated by 19 pieces of shit who’d managed to defy our national intelligence and defense system. Whether through hubris, incompetence or some combination thereof, we were all caught with our pants down and terrorists brought America to a temporary, but significant standstill. None of us forget. None of us should. Some of those responsible have paid the price. Some haven’t. We continue to stumble our way through Afghanistan and Iraq for God only knows what purpose anymore. It is a region of the world that neither wants nor requires our input. We should get out and leave them be.

And should they ever allow another collection of pieces of shit to pull another terrorist attack here, we should do what we should’ve done in the first place and level a good portion of the country responsible without setting a single boot on the ground.

Right, bada-boom, bada-bing.

Next 9-11 ... a good one our family is looking forward to ... Charles (not Charlie) ... the one wearing the neck collar for the next few weeks while he attends his MBA classes and eventually returns to work, will be getting married in Maryland to his Delaware dish, Leslie Sharpe. 9-11-10 is their official wedding day. Hopefully my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills don’t use that same day to sneak off to Toronto ...

April 2010 ... is the publication date for Johnny Porno from Stark House Press ... It is 1973 again, when the New York mob was at the height of its power, disco was king and the business of pornography was about to explode across America after a New York City criminal court banned the most famous of all porn flicks, Deep Throat.

Mafiya ... available now in trade paper, it was spotted at the Posman book store in Grand Central Station (Shuttle Passage) by one of the lawyers who works here ... “Stella has crafted a true page-turner ... Agnes is a flawed heroine, a refreshing change from too many lesser novels, and Stella remains a master of creating complex and believable characters. Stella has quickly become one of crime fiction's leading lights and this latest effort will burnish that well-deserved reputation. A great book.” —a *Library Journal* starred review.

The Republican Answer to Health Care ... essentially has been to keep things the way they are (why upset the applecart—Insurance companies are making a fortune, the rich have health coverage, so what we have 10% unemployment and people have lost their jobs and homes, we and who we represent (the rich) don’t feel it. The GOP is also against bailouts again (after Bush initiated the first set of bailouts) ... Wall Street is healthy again so who cares about that 10% of unemployed Americans? If the lazy bastards need a job, let them go out and get one!. Oy-vey ... is DOC gonna piss his pantaloons over this one.

Oy-vey again ... if Obama can’t get his party behind single payer (or some form of it) and we wind up with some watered down version of so-called healthcare reform, Knucksline will start calling him Obama Bush III ... he needs to rally HIS party (all 60 Dems in the Senate) and ram the package down the Republican party’s throats. If he can’t do that, he’s just another suit and the rest of us should turn to Ralph Nader in 2012.

It's official ... he's gone to the dogs ...


And the DOC says ...

You know Chaz, I meant to forego my usual caustic replies to your nonsensical rants today in observance of September 11th, but then your new hero got my panties in such a bunch that I can hardly walk.

September 11th is NOT a day of service!

It is a day of remembrance, a day of prayer, perhaps even a day to renew the resolve we had on September 12th. But service? Service to whom? The state, Obama, those feckless blowhards in Washington?

Thanks to the IRS, 4 months of every year are already days of service to the government.

See what you made me do. Let me get back on track.

Ask all the Amicis to, at some point of the day, spend a few minutes to contemplate the events of 8 years ago, not from the aspect of politics or international relations, but how you personally felt when you saw the video of those 2 icons of our American way of life crumbling to the ground. Remember the days that followed, when American flags sprouted like wildflowers from every window, garden and automobile. We were all united then, even if only for a short time.

Do not be disheartened, Chaz. In 2012, Nader will be the new president, the Buffalo Bills will be Super Bowl champions for 3 years running and I will be sitting at the anchor desk at MSNBC commenting how Obama was just too conservative.

Let's never forget, comrade

Monday, September 7, 2009

Knucksline Review … Speaking Of Nightmares …


A Knucksline Review ... A Choice Of Nightmares, by Lynn Kostoff.

Robert Staples kept trying to explain why he threw Heidi in the alligator pit.

If that opening line doesn’t catch your interest, nothing will. Lynn Kostoff’s fast paced thriller of a novel, A Choice Of Nightmares, starts with that line and doesn’t slow down in suspense until all is said and done.

Robert Staples is a down on his luck B-grade actor desperate to make it. Russell Tills, his manager/agent has his fingers in any number of pies, but he’s become an anachronism in the fast-paced lane of drug dealing. A few rogue government employees, some Columbian cartel dealers, a killer with a changed name and his own Cain-Able story, the beautiful daughter of another government official with clout, a young kid on the prowl and poor Heidi make up the cast of the nightmare Staples is confronted with. To pursue his acting dream and live life one mall/store opening gig after another until he catches his break (if ever) or to risk it all and go hedonist with the beautiful Denice and leave his past (acting included) behind once and for all?

In essence, “to be or not to be” … and it all starts with that hook of an opening line. Robert had a headache, Heidi wasn’t very friendly and there was an alligator pit … now Robert has to make amends for his knee jerk reaction and it isn’t going to be easy.

Aside from the danger inherent to anything involving drugs, there’s the pragmatic Denise, who happens to be beautiful, great in bed and more hypnotic to Robert than any imaginable movie marquee featuring his name. Robert has a simple task at the start of his making amends to his agent … but the best laid plans often go awry and so it goes.

Kostoff starts in Miami and heads south down U.S. Highway 1 through the Keys to Key West and back and forth a few times in this adventurous romp of a thriller. Barry From West Palm (the Cain in the Cain-Able situation we later learn) is one scary dude. Fortunately for Robert he looks like Barry’s brother Carl (poor Able), but doing favors guarantees nothing in the world of drug dealing and sometimes gets you in deeper waters than taking a pass. There’s a lot going on in A Choice Of Nightmares, plots and subplots that keep the story moving at a fast clip. Kostoff has his own style and it is a polished one. His dialogue stands up to any in the business and his knowledge of the material goes above and beyond what you’ll find elsewhere. Curious about how cocaine is diluted into crack? You want to know what chemicals are used? I was entertained and schooled at every turn.

Kostoff is clearly one of the unsung heroes of modern crime fiction. The Long Fall, my first Kostoff read, was a brilliant piece of writing and remains one of my favorite reads to this day. A Choice Of Nightmares measures up quite nicely and more than does justice to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness as well. A page-turning adventure from a novelist with a style the rest of us can only wish for. New Pulp Press has made a great choice in bringing back this Kostoff original.

And coming in July, 2010 … Lynn Kostoff’s new novel, Late Rain, will be published by Tyrus books. How I wish it were next summer already.

Speaking of nightmares … the boyo, Charles (not Charlie) called us from some beach in Maryland where he and his fiancĂ© were vacationing this weekend with this opening line: “I fractured my spine.” The Principessa Ann Marie had answered the phone. All I heard was the gasp she made. Then I was up off the couch quick and she was already trying to reassure me it was okay. Turns out the kid (27 now) was on a boogie-board surfing and nearly crippled himself. He couldn’t get up or breath or walk. His fiancĂ© made him go to the hospital and they X-rayed him and found a fracture. He’s okay and wearing a collar and should be recovered in a couple of weeks or so, but it was one of the moments that send a surge of rage through your body (any parent) … that bit of fear mixed with anger that it wasn’t you and/or there was nothing you could do to protect them. It was a very scary moment all of us dread and hopefully it will turn out okay.

Of course the next morning when I called to check on him, the little putz (6’3”) said, “I’m fine. We’re going surfing in a little while.”

Focking kids …

I drank myself to sleep last night ... then this morning, still feeling the rage, I did 18 reps with 255 ...


And the DOC says ...

So, Chaz,

Today the Bamster gave his watered-down version of the original speech to the students of America. He told them to wash their hands, study hard and don't shoot their teachers. In reading about this, I was surprised in just how few presidents had actually done this. I would have expected every president to give a little encouragement to our students. Of course when Papa Bush did this in 1991 he was investigated and the Congress wanted him to justify his wanton spending of the $27,000 spent to produce the speech. That must have been the "Good Old Days" I always hear about, when 27 grand was considered a lavish expenditure. The Bamster spends that on hor d'oeuvres every Wednesday.

The Bamster's bigger problem here is trust. Parents don't want him even talking to their children. This is a serious charge. You have to go pretty far down on the social food chain when people start telling you that they won't even allow you to talk to their children. The Bamster has become the weird, middle-aged, single guy who lives by himself and lets the neighborhood boys into his house to play video games, watch porn and have a few beers. This is as low as it gets. That "don't ever let me catch you even speaking to my kids" speech is usually delivered by a loud parent with veins popping out of his head, holding a bat. Sometimes the deployment of said bat is the preamble to the speech, sometimes it is the closer. The Bamster is now the guy nervously eyeing the bat.

Van Jones... what can you say. I've been fired before, but I was never fired at midnight Sunday of the Labor Day weekend. I guess the dems just wanted that to go away while people were recovering from the barbecue. Personally I would have preferred he remain one of the Gang of 50 Czars. It would have been easier to keep an eye on him. Mrs. Doubtfire (Gibbs) said he would still advise the administration, but he can't wear that cool furry hat that the other czars wear.

So, how was your weekend, Buckeroo


Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Gordo … Dean’s List … The Hunchback of Notre Dame … Knucks NFL Review…


Gordo … oy-vey, the guys in the deli used to call me Buon Giorno (because it’s my greeting) but familiarity breeds contempt … now I’m Gordo ("fat person"). Well, it’s not like they’re fibbing.

I use a plural Italian affectionate term my grandfather used for me when addressing them … “stroonzi” (little shits). It’s not like I’m fibbing either …

Dean’s List … add one more trinket to the Principessa Ann Marie’s collection (there’s been high honors, a creative writing award, several dean’s lists and a near perfect cumulative grade point average), but in yesterday’s mail was her last semester’s Dean’s list.

I find this guy Dean, he’s got trouble.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame … no, amici, I’m not moving to France … but I did read the book and it was more hilarious than heartbreaking and so spot on regarding government and church, it is easy to see how Hugo wrote the stuff revolutions are made of. There are two dry spots where Hugo goes off on the Paris architecture (and how much it had been warped by the time he wrote his book— sort of the way I feel about Little Italy before its yuppification — and that only took a few decades) and he did have another social essay planted firmly in the middle of a great story—much like Les Miserables and the sewer system) only a lot less so … but this is worth the read as much for the history lesson as for some brilliant (and funny) dialogue. And how can you not feel for Quasimodo (who was named after a holiday, I learned, Quasimodo Sunday, the first Sunday after Easter).

A little fact not known was that the poor hunchback went for his morning coffee at the deli beneath Notre Dame and was also called Gordo by the little shits who worked there …

Knucks NFL Review… get’em while they’re hot. Conference Chumps and Stupid Bowl winner at the bottom:

AFC Best
New England Cheaterfaces (11-5)
Miami Dolphinations (9-7)
Moonachie Y-E-T-S, Yets, Yets, Yets (7-9)
My Beloved New York State Buffalo Bills (4-12)

AFC Northeast
Baltimore Wes Cravens (11-5)
Pittsburg Iron Ores (10-6)
Cleveland Brownies (8-8)
Cincinnati Ocho-Cincos (6-10)

AFC Midwest
Tennessee Tuxedos (11-5)
Indiacrapolis Coltless (10-6)
Sam Houston Rangers (8-8)
Jacksonville Feelines (5-11)

AFC Useless
San Diego Chargeless (10-6)
Oakland Raiderettes (8-8)
Kansas City Chefs (5-11)
Denver Bronckettes (5-11)

NFC Yeast
Moonachie Giants (11-5)
Philadelphia (Dog Killing) Eaglettes (11-5)
Dallas Cowgirls (8-8)
Washington Yellowskins (6-10)

NFC Nord
Minnesota Domed Ones (10-6)
Chicago Bearless (9-7)
Green Bay Packerless (8-8)
Detroit Lionesses (4-12)

NFC Mason-Dixon
Carolina Putz’s (10-6)
Atlanta Falconless (10-6)
The Aints (6-10)
The Buc Stops in Tampa (5-11)

NFC Less
Arizona by way of St. Louis Cardinals (9-7)
San Fernando Forty-fives (8-8)
Seattle Sea Pigeons (7-9)
St. Louis Blues (6-10)

AFC Champion Game: Tennessee Tuxedos vs. Baltimore Wes CravensCravens win.
NFC Championship Game: The Moonachie Giants vs. the Philadelphia (Dog Killing) Eaglettes … Giants win.

Stupid Bowl: Cravens rock the Moonachie Giants once more once 31-6.

Mortgage the house, amici … it’s a lock.

And the lock of the week (Week #1) will be the cheaterface nation patriations over my beloved new york state buffalo bills 42-10.