The Ballad of Ron Mexico

Is it still racist to say Michael Vick is overrated? Back in 2001 when Mike "Ron Mexico" Vick was still a collegiate prodigy at VaTech, I stated that he would be a bust, but I was 16 and couldn't legally buy porn, so who cares what I said. With the prototypical scrambling quarterback finally spilling over from college to the NFL, the jury was still out on the success of these athletic (see: black) quarterbacks in the pro game. Hindsight being 20/20, we see now that the scrambling quarterback failed, while the "mobile" quarterback succeeded. My assessment of Vick at the time was that he was likely the most gifted quarterback to come into the league in years, maybe ever, considering his 4.3 speed and monster arm, but he would fall victim to the overall athleticism he would have to face in the NFL, coupled with his inconsistent throwing arm, being that he completed only 177 passes in college of 313 attempts. 6 years later, it would seem that my original assessment of Vick was correct, he is in fact a bust. Partially due to the inconsistent arm, and his propensity to run first pass second, but mainly due to dog murder.

Yes, the amusing stories of Michael Vick's adventures as his venereal disease toting alter ego Ron Mexico have fallen by the wayside for his more disturbing adventures involving dog rape. Once the face of the Atlanta Falcons franchise, Vick is now the face of, well, Dog Murder. But I pose this question. Is this not the best thing that could have happened to Michael Vick?. Vick had a career passer rating of somewhere in the 70's. The equation to come up with a quarterback passer rating is very complicated and involves many "numbers" as they say in the math world. This equation is heavy on quarterback success metrics, such as completions and touchdowns, and light on the effectiveness of corn-rows and Gatorade commercials, which some would say, is disproportionately weighted towards Vick's deficiencies. Nonetheless, Vick was headed downhill as opposing teams realized Vick is what some may call a "terrible quarterback", leading him to throw far more interceptions, and far less touchdowns, which was also detrimental to his quarterback rating.

Many speculate that Vick will not play in the NFL again, which doesn't necessarily mean he failed as a quarterback, he simply failed as a human. Sure, he had some rough seasons here and there, but so did Kyle Boller, and he turned out just fine. Vick's legacy will be seen as an immensely talented individual, who on the cusp of becoming a great quarterback, rewriting history books and renewing faith in the scrambling quarterback, was brought down by PETA and people who would rather have had Vick allow a beaten dog to suffer, rather than soak him in water and electrocute him. These are probably the same people who consider themselves proponents of Dr. Kevorkian; hypocrites. Yet I digress. Vick, in my humble, uninformed, uneducated opinion, would have continued his fall from athletic effectiveness, especially considering his new coach, Bobby Petrino, was dead set on allowing Vick to make more decisions on the field, and we all know how Vick fares with decision-making. Ultimately, Vick circumvented his impending downfall on the football field, by pleading guilty to Dog Killing; that my friends is what we call an excuse.

Somewhere, deep down in my heart of hearts, I will miss Mike Vick. I'll miss watching Falcons games with the loyal #7 jerseys, reading both "VICK" and "MEXICO". I'll miss watching Vick complete 45% of his passes; undaunted by his many ill-advised triple coverage induced interceptions. I'll miss watching good ole' MV give his own home crowd the finger, in defiance of their distaste for his supposed poor play. I'll miss Mike Vick, because he was in fact a very entertaining character to watch, but ultimately I can say in complete confidence, that he was a bust, and I was right.

Al Davis, I love what you're doing

Read the synopsis for this article:

While I was hoping the raiders would pick up Drew Bledsoe mid-season last year, Daunte Culpepper will do just fine. Looks like the raiders are setting up for another satisfyingly terrible season.

This is just one of many hilarious things happening with the raiders, including: Warren Sapp trying to lose weight, Robert Gallery starting at Left Guard and Art Shell returning in 2006 as head coach after being fired in 1994, only to be fired again at the end of his first regular season. I’m loving life as an avid Raider-Nation hater, Niner fan and most importantly, a hater of Al Davis and his 'love of the long ball' (see: picking JaMarcus Russell over Calvin Johnson) in general. This actually makes a nice segway into a discussion about Al Davis’ mission to single-handedly destroy the ‘most winningest team in the NFL.’

I recently found out Davis is a huge fan of Japanese culture, the way of the samurai and oriental teachings*. Sounds strange, but in a roundabout way it explains his uncanny ability to make a bad team worse. It’s INTENTIONAL.

Davis is all too keen to the fact that he doesn’t have much time left. Everyone knows that if you were to cut Davis in half horizontally and count the rings you’d see that he was already older than most at the Dawn of Man. He has seen kingdoms come and go, famines and plagues decimate his family and friends, and the Great Depression all but nullify his stocks in copper.

All this has lead to Davis’ brain being left in a ‘questionable’ state. Davis is now convinced that being an NFL GM is the same as being the Pope, a Supreme Court justice or third-strike offender in California state prison: It’s For Life.

Davis is also convinced that the NFL works much like the days of feudal Japan. Once an emperor was replaced, his entire family would be disposed of, so the Earth could be cleansed of their shamed and terrible seed*. So, naturally, Davis is worried for his loved ones, the same loved ones that tend his withered body as he sits in his giant throne made of a hollowed out redwood tree in his home in Walnut Creek, CA.

Davis has only one solution. Kill the team he once loved. Davis is doing everything in his power to stop the raiders from winning, and it’s working. Davis is trying to make the raiders so incredibly bad that the only fans that show up are the nutjob raider nation fans. There is a good chance they’ll end up killing a player—probably Damon Huard—and forcing the NFL to disband the raiders and remove them from football history, thus saving the Davis family line from the imaginary assassins that keep Davis tossing and turning all night in his Hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

If the team is gone, Davis can’t be replaced, and his family lives on!

Bravo Davis, with your grip on reality slipping all I can do is watch the raiders go the way of the XFL and replace the 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers as not only the worst team in the NFL ever, but the worst team in all of professional sports ever. Join me?

*May not be true, refer to wikipedia for actual facts

Looking ahead to my favorite time of the year

They rose from dirt. The 2006-2007 Golden State Warriors kicked the door in and emerged from the depths of the NBA’s basement and stepped right into the limelight. Well, the February 2006-2007 Golden State Warriors did. The original squad that started the ’06-’07 campaign would have been better left in the dungeon. Few people could stand to watch the uninspired and Charmin-soft play of Mike Dunleavy and Troy Murphy. But with the exile of those two Mully-mistakes and the acquisition of Stephen Jackson Al Harrington and that other guy, Don Nelson had the right ingredients for his fucked-up recipe. The one that calls for throwing a 6’9 Small Forward at a 7’6 Chinese Center, or siccing a 6’8 Shooting Guard on a 7’ German Power Forward…and adding double and triple teams to taste.
It was that kooky captain, along with some inspired play from Tim Hardaway 2.0 (Sans the bigotry) and Co. that led this team back to the Promised Land. And after toppling the #1 seeded team in the league, a team many thought would steamroll their way to the title, they fell short in the Western Conference Semi-Finals against the bruising Jazz frontline.
But prior to their unceremonious exit the Bay Area had golden fever, celebrities popped up at games, the airwaves buzzed with Warriors news. For the first time in 12 years the Warriors were still relevant in the months of April and May. The fans responded to the playoff push, the season tickets for the lower bowl of the Oracle Arena were completely sold out before the end of the Warriors’ run last season.
What’s in store for our beloved Dubs now? Will they make the playoffs this coming season?
Let’s find out by looking at the other teams in the Western Conference and what they have done this offseason:

Dallas Mavericks: The Warriors showed last season that they are a match-up killer for this team. Their season-series sweep was no fluke, and we all saw what happened in the playoffs. To shore up their defensive weaknesses the Mavs went out and signed…Eddie Jones? He doesn’t seem like the answer to all their problems but he did come on the cheap. Other than Jones Cuban extended Jose Juan Barrea, who would absolutely KILL it if the NBA were a 6 ft and under league, and also brought back Jerry Stackhouse and Devean George. Stack’s an assassin, and even at his age and with those knees I like bringing him back as an offensive weapon off the bench. George is an 8-year NBA veteran, has three championship rings and still manages to look lost to me out on the court.

Phoenix Suns: Following in the trend of other over-the-(no pun intended here)hill All-Stars who jump on championship contenders searching for the chip that has eluded them throughout their careers, ladies and gentleman…introducing the newest injury-prone member of the Phoenix Suns, GRANT HILL! Yes he came for dirt cheap, but I don’t see GH being a key-piece to a championship run for Phoenix. The guy doesn’t have ankles and is 30+, those two factors do not sound conducive to running your ass off in a system that encourages you to run your ass off. They also traded away Kurt Thomas for…absolutely nothing. If you’re trying to win a championship, why do you give up the only player on your team (you could argue in the whole conference) who can effectively guard Tim Duncan? That’s ignoring the fact that Thomas can drill 15-footers all day and is a terrific pick and roll partner for Nashty Nash. Steve Kerr has his work cut out for him down in the desert…

San Antonio: This organization might as well stand pat and just ride this unit until the wheels come off, because I see them using the same regular season strategy for years to come (plod along winning but not dominating until March when Pop kicks them into 5th gear and they peak as a cohesive unit on their way into the playoffs). That’s pretty much what they did this summer. Their only notable moves were to re-sign Fabricio Oberto (wildly underrated as a player in that system), Jacque Vaughn and Matt Bonner. The Oberto signing was smart and just, he earned his dollars banging down low throughout the postseason and doing the dirty stuff Duncan doesn’t always do…diving for loose balls, making a hard foul, etc. Bonner and Vaughn? Not so much. And giving away Jackie Butler to their neighbors wasn’t the greatest idea…

Houston Rockets: Remember when the Spurs got Butler from the Knicks, and everyone screamed bloody murder? It was an unfair move people said, Isiah Thomas had been fleeced again by another GM smarter than him (see: every GM in the NBA not running the Knicks). Butler was supposed to be a beast for the Spurs, a backup for Duncan that would provide solid defense and offense, only he never cracked the lineup…actually I’m not positive they ever issued him a uniform, Butler was normally found perusing the cheerleaders during timeouts in a dapper suit and tie. Well in Butler the Rockets may have found the quality backup for Yao Ming they have desperately needed, because Dikembe Mutumbo isn’t getting any younger (some would argue he’s not aging either, but merely trapped in time at an indiscernible age, I digress). After a lackluster draft in which Daryl Morey’s only notable selection was Aaron Brooks (tiny-stature/big-heart), he bounced back nicely with some key additions through trade and free agency. Signed Steve Francis: low risk high reward, he’s either their third scoring option or the same guard who couldn't even get minutes on the Knicks. Traded Juwan Howard for Mike James, which brings a solid starting point-guard back to Houston and a guy who had his best years playing in the lone star state, and sends a washed-up power forward with not much left in the tank to Minnesota (Remember, McHale's stock-piling assets for his next big trade...wait, what?). And to fill the terrible void left in Howard’s wake, they got Luis Scola’s rights from the Spurs, the man is a Euro-league stud who’s done nothing but win overseas and average a solid 14 and 7 for his career. This team looks stacked on paper, and set for a deep run.

Utah Jazz: The Jazz agreed to terms and let Fisher out of his contract, an unprecedented move in the NBA. Karma points for letting your veteran point guard leave under the circumstances, but uh, you usually don’t let your starting point guard leave under any circumstances, right? Wrong (Baby head cancer was good enough for the Jazz). The Jazz shored up Fish’s absence with Jason Hart and Ronnie Price. Right...that'll do.

Denver Nuggets: The Nuggets needed a scorer, someone to go to and get a bucket when their offense got stagnant, that’s why they went out and got a notorious chucker, a deep-ball threat, a clutch shooter who demands the ball in the clutch. That's right, I'm talking about Chucky Atkins…wait, what? They already have Allen Iverson and Carmelo Anthony? You’re serious? In a related story, the Nuggets will be playing 15 minute quarters next season to allow for enough ill-advised shots to be hoisted by Melo, AI and Chucky. We wouldn’t anyone’s feathers to get ruffled, now would we?

LA Lakers: Kobe Bryant is thrilled with the state of his team right now; Kobe Bryant has no further comments.

LA Clippers: As I stated earlier on this blog, it doesn’t really matter what the Clippers did this off-season, because their season was officially over when Elton felt a pop in his left knee a few weeks ago. Get to the tapes Elgin Baylor, and find a lottery prospect you like for the 2008 draft, you’ll have a crack at the best of them I’m sure.

New Orleans Hornets: The Hornets could be a very dangerous team if they’re all together and healthy. Now that Peja Stojakovic’s rear side has been sewn back together he can get back to doing what he does best, stroking threes with an awkward release and watching whoever he is defending blow past him. Really this team is all about Chris Paul, if he has himself a monster season he may just lead them into the playoffs. Signing Mo Peterson won’t hurt, he’ll be a more efficient and capable scorer than Desmond Mason was, but I’m not sure he’ll be as good of a defender. Look for Bobby Jackson to tear some muscle you didn't know existed somewhere in February, and the Hornets to be out of contention for a playoff spot by March...when Peja's back splits at the seams while he attempts a jumper.

Minnesota Timberwolves: Al Jefferon’s going to put up big numbers in a few years, but for now…welcome to the Western conference Big Al, now meet Tim Duncan, Carlos Boozer, Pau Gasol, Amare Stoudamire and Brandan Wright (Warriors fan, remember?).

Sacramento Kings: Petrie’s in a terrible situation in Sacramento. Rumors have it that the Maloofs are playing too large a part in the General Manager world. Leading to Petrie signing people like Miki Moore and drafting big, slow, white centers like Spencer Hawes to team with big, slow, white injury-prone centers like Brad Miller. Maloofs should stick to things they know, like blowing lines off $5,000/hour escort ass and running hotels. I'd say sometime this season we will see Mike Bibby get moved, and it’ll be for pennies on the dollar, and it will be to Cleveland.

Portland Trailblazers: This team is headed in the right direction, but I don’t think they make the playoffs next year. Too many growing pains for Greg Oden, the transition from playing against 19-year-old boys to Shaquille O’Neal must suck.

Seattle Supersonics: Kevin Durant is going to be a perennial all-star for years to come. Next year won’t be one of those years. Welcome to your 2007-2008 Rookie of the Year: 20.3 ppg, 5 rpg, 3 apg, .7 spg, 1 bpg, 42% from the field 33% from downtown. Mark it down.

Memphis Grizzlies: Grabbing Mike Conley Jr. was a great move. Their staff can’t stop gushing about him, apparently once he actually develops a jump shot he’s going to be unstoppable baby! Don’t sweat the details Memphis, worry about trying to appease your superstar, Pau Gasol. Picking up his long-time friend (aka BFF) Juan Carlos Navarro for some draft picks was a good start, plus Navarro actually can play a little bit. Playoffs however, I do not see in your immediate future.

If you got through all that congratulations, you earned a peak at my top-8 in the Western Conference when the dust settles at the end of next season. In order from top to bottom:

1. Dallas Mavericks
2. Phoenix Suns
3. San Antonio Spurs
4. Houston Rockets
5. Utah Jazz
6. Golden State Warriors
7. Denver Nuggets
8. Los Angeles Lakers

Unfortunately, if this is the case I see a first-round exit for our Warriors. The Spurs are to Golden State as Golden State is to Dallas. A match-up fiasco, as in we can't guard anyone on their team...

Ah well, there's always next year.

Santa Barbara's Finest pt. 1

When I say the words, ‘election day’ what comes to mind?

Politics? Freedom? The greatest tradition in confusing democratic practice?

Those are all typical responses from the cookie-cutter, Texas based textbook teachings type I’d expect to be reading this blog. A blog that by all means is grounds for any constitutional lawyer to reverse Amendment I. But after I finish this story you’ll know why election-day is synonymous with arrogance, suffering and a disregard for all levels of reason.

November 2, 2004. I was in a news writing class at Santa Barbara City College and I had to cover the election for my class. I attended party for democrats downtown. I was actually just covering the representative race, but the Bush Kerry race was dominating the mood.

When I got home I pulled out my laptop, the same one I write this story on now. It was about 1:30 a.m. and I had written my article, with only a need for a quick run-through edit to catch any more errors. All of a sudden, all of my roommates busted through the door, drunk as a group of Italians on Columbus Day.

They had apparently been partying at the students’ apartments, not far from where we lived. They were all covered in light, ashy soot. They had been trashing some dudes’ apartment who had recently heard that his deposit was ‘not fucking his anymore.’

Three days later we had a party at our house. Trust me, it wasn’t to celebrate Bush’s victory. A lot of random people showed up to the house, which was normal, but one dude with the most prominent and ridiculous bird nose was bothering EVERYBODY. Kicking in the bathroom door, talking shit and then walking off, scaring hot chicks away, this type of guy, while generally hilarious, is also generally unwelcome in our house.

Santa Barbara's Finest pt. 2

Bird nose looked like the lovechild of toucan sam and butterbean, and he dressed like he had cashed out at a Fred Durst garage sale.

Point of reference: Everybody in Santa Barbara does coke. Everybody. That includes pre-school teachers, pre-school students, priests, grandmas…little babies with trust-funds equal to India’s GDP who wear trendy diapers do coke. If you’re driving down highway 101 through Santa Barbara you’re probably doing coke off of your dashboard.

So what? So bird nose wanted some coke, bad. So bad that when all of his friends told him that they didn’t have any, he made a scene and claimed he was going to leave. When all his friends expressed a consensual approval with his plan he left them with a casual ‘fuck you fucks’ and walked to the other end of the room, pretending he knew other people at the party.

Bird nose wasn’t through. About ½ hour later he stormed into my roommate Doss's room and demanded coke. Doss got rational on him.

“Look, I don’t have any. If I did, I’d give it to you so you’d shut the fuck up!”

“What’s that?”

Doss looked at his desk where a small mountain of powdery off-white substance revealed his apparent untruths.

“Dude, that’s not coke.”

“Fuck you you little fuck, why the fuck can’t I have any look how fucking much you have?!?”

There was a lot. Enough to make Doss look like the middle-man between Pablo Escobar and Tony Montana. Why Doss had that much unconcealed and laying on his desk I couldn’t say. But he was caught.

Let’s backtrack to three day ago.

Santa Barbara's Finest pt. 3

It wasn’t until the following day, after school, that I found out a funnier part of the story. My roommates had been kicking holes in the wall and decided to go for the big hit:

Remember how bird nose called Doss a ‘little fuck’? He wasn’t lying. The guy is like 5’ 3” and looks like a cross between Bart Simpson and Bushwick Bill. Anyway everybody picked him up (per his request) and held him horizontally at about waist height to ram his head through the wall.

************************************************************************************

Back to bird nose. Bird nose did a line in when everyone left him in Doss' room. He came into the living room and had his finger in his gums and a puzzled/terrified look on his face.

“What the fuck was that shit?”

The group stared in disbelief had this really just happened?

************************************************************************************

Back to three days ago:
Right before they rammed Doss, another house guest stopped everyone and pulled away a piece of the dry wall, revealing an electrical box. Doss was shocked. He grabbed the piece of dry wall as a memento to the stupid things people tend to do when coke is involved.

************************************************************************************

Back to Bird nose:
Someone had to tell bird nose, he may have needed medical assistance.

“You just did a fucking line of DRY WALL you stupid fuck!”

“Oh shit, oh man I’m fucked up!”

I think that was the first time I've ever laughed heartily and nervously at the same time. Heartily because, well, he did a line of dry wall. Nervously because, well, he might soon be dead.

So what does this tell us about election day?

That drugs, lies, backdoor deals and destruction of property are just as much a part of politics as they are college? No, you already knew that, you savvy reader you.

Does it tell us that, scientifically speaking, people with bird noses are genetically pre-disposed to cocaine use and maybe a Freudian nasal infatuation (speculative theory, not documented)?. No, that’s total bullshit.

It tells us that coke heads go on to snort many things: Meth, dry wall and the American Constitution (Figuratively).

The Greatest Thing Ever

Two days ago, ESPN.com displayed an article regarding Adam "Pacman" Jones' recent return to the athletic world, as the newest member of TNA Wrestling. I didn't read this entire article, because they missed the point entirely. This is the greatest thing to happen to wrestling since Mae Young gave birth to a human hand. If you understand that reference, you, like me, understand that wrestling is in dire straits. Coupled with Chris Benoit's recent, um, problems, wrestling hasn't had a marquee name in ages, contributing to a fairly steep downfall in fan support. Part of this can be attributed to the crossover star power of many wrestlers, The Rock going the way of Hollywood, Brock Lesnar going to MMA, Stone Cold dealing with back problems and those pesky "domestic abuse" charges, whatever that means. The bottom line: wrestling is starved for a new star, and John Cena, the white rapping, jort wearing, trucker hat sporting fan favorite is not the answer. Enter Pacman. The beauty of the situation lies in the fact that TNA does not have to cultivate his star power. Pacman Jones is already a commodity, mainly due to his ability to "make it rain", but also due to his ability to incite riots causing innocent bystanders to get shot; semantics. Pacman Jones is great for wrestling, thanks to his athleticism, mainstream appeal, or lack thereof, and most importantly his complete disregard for rational thought. But what could be even more compelling than all this? There is a 97.3% chance that nobody has told Pacman that wrestling is fake, or scripted as they may say in the industry. Considering Pacman's recent history, there is a 93.5% chance that he is under the assumption that for the next year he gets to fight people for a living. That means there is a 97.8% chance that Pacman Jones will in fact murder somebody in the ring. I believe this factual scientific evidence gives this blog validity. This is the realization that I have come to. The most irrational, dangerous, angry player in the NFL, probably in all of sports, is about to join Total Nonstop Action Wrestling (yes that is what TNA stands for), and wrestle roided out white guys in their 30's with the health of men in their 70's in front of trashy mid-westerners in their 40's. I smell an Emmy. Could this get any better? Yes it can. In my research, and by research I mean I went to Google and found any thread stating wrestling salaries, I found that in recent years, Triple H made an annual salary of $2.5 million, Stone Cold at his peak made $5 million, and the Rock pulled in $10 million. Although these are lofty goals for Pacman, with the dedication that he has shown in his steadfastness to attend strip clubs at all hours of the day in the face of adversity and scorn by NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, he could very well become the next main event in modern day wrestling. This of course means that potentially, Pacman could become a full time wrestler and become a fixture in wrestling culture, which is to say, don't be surprised if three months from now Pacman weighs 297 pounds and has stretch marks on every muscle in his upper body. I'm shaking with excitement. Good luck Pacman, for the sake of all disenchanted wrestling fans around the world, don't kill anybody before you get in the ring, otherwise we're going to have to continue longing for the days of Kaientai chopping off Val Venis' wiener, a gay marriage involving Mr. Ass, and Triple H drugging Stephanie McMahon and marrying her at a drive through wedding chapel.

Thanks Elton Brand

If you're a fan of any team in the Pacific Division that is not the Clippers, please send Elton Brand a Thank You card...if you want some good karma maybe include a Get Well Soon note. In a series of unfortunate events featuring the Los Angeles Clippers, Brand mystified LA's "other" fan base by rupturing his left Achilles tendon last Friday during a routine daily workout. There hasn't been a potentially career-ending injury this funny since Tony Allen's boneheaded post-whistle dunk that resulted in micro fracture surgery on his knee. I actually laughed out loud for a good minute when this news came across the ESPN ticker. Not because I'm a terrible person, but mainly because the Clippers management must have the blood of a 1,000 virgins on their hands, why else would they be reprimanded so heavily by the basketball Gods (See: Livingston, Shaun, Brand, Elton and Cassel, Sam trade)? So as a Warriors fan I say "Thanks Elton Brand!", you just ended the Clippers' 07-08 campaign before it even started, and increased the chances of the Warriors making it back to the blessed postseason. It's not all bad though, I'm sure Elgin Baylor will afford you all the time and rehab you need, enough say...to secure the Clips a top pick in next year's stellar point guard loaded draft?
On second thought Brand, get well soon...soon enough to kill all chances of a lottery pick and late enough that the team falls short of the playoffs. That's fitting anyways, it's the Clippers....misery and despair is ingrained into your franchise. Baylor may need to call an exorcist.

The Humboldt Chronic-WHAT-les

The following is an installment from a larger body of writing about my time spent enrolled at Humboldt State in Humboldt County. Big Dubb Diesel will be contributing with writings reflecting back on his formative years spent in Santa Barbara.
Enjoy!

The beginning of the end…of fun: December 2006

50. Which of the following statements about phospholipid bi-layers is true?
A. Any liquid material can pass through the phospholipid bi-layer.
B. A phospholipids’ hydrophobic tail is attracted to water.
C. The outer ring of a cell membrane is known as a phospholipid bi-layer.
D. A phospholipid bi-layer is not absolutely essential for life.

I circled “C” and laid my pencil down on my 881-E Scantron form; neatly filled out in number 2 Pencil with 50 answers to 50 questions I had studied day and night for the last two weeks. And now none of that mattered, because now I was a college graduate.

Nine semesters, 1,640 days, four and a half years. That’s how long it took for me to become an adult; that’s how long I was allowed to bask in the glory and metaphorical sunshine of the college life. I say metaphorical sunshine because I went to school at Humboldt State University.

Beyond the Redwood curtain, at the tip of Northern California in a county where sunshine is not allowed but marijuana is welcomed. All things considered I am glad I chose Humboldt State, it offered me the opportunity to learn at my own pace while stoned in class, and focus on harnessing the often overlooked thrills of a collegiate career, like winning an intramural championship or going undefeated on the beer pong table.

So it was with more than a twinge of grief that I waded through the freshman in my row and walked to the front of the lecture hall to turn in my Intro to Biology for Non-Science majors final. It wasn’t just a 4-page assessment of my ability to regurgitate information, I’ve forked over plenty of those; it was affirmation that my days of fun were coming to an end.

The final chapter from my Humboldt State stay was the least productive from an educational stance but most productive from a “This is Awesome” stance. I manipulated my schedule so I had three-day weekends; I drank whenever I damn well pleased because I’m a grown ass man and that’s what grown ass men do. I played pick-up and organized basketball like it was my major, and when my roommate B-Rad and I weren’t putting up jumpers in the East Gym we worked out and lifted weights. Did I mention I was in the best shape of my life? Whoever said, “Change is good.” Fuck you.

More to come...

All togher now...all together now....all together now live life and partay

Welcome to the Drunk Blog. Myself and two others will be using this space to express our love for drinks, sandwiches, the Golden State Warriors, ninjas, the San Francisco 49ers, burritos, the Giants, travelling and socially unacceptable behavior in general.

Enjoy and feel free to comment as you see fit.