Lady Gaga and Beyonce

by Bonehead

As you can see from the picture at the top of this post, Beyonce is a proud fan of Bonehead.  She likes the dry humor and occasional witty observations we happily share here.  Which is sort of odd considering she’s from Texas and typically most people from Texas find me repulsive and ridiculous.  Lady Gaga is a native New Yorker – but as of this writing has not yet agreed to sit for a photo with me, even though we share the same home state and taste in hats.  So I’m sort of hoping that she’ll appreciate me for helping her nab 2 or 3 additional views to the 15 million or so this video has already garnered in the past week or so.

SpotonLI presents Guest Blogger Jill Mizrahi Balnis creator of Blog Yourself Silly. Jill is a recent graduate of Hofstra University with a BA in English and creative writing. Married with two beautiful kids, Jill shares her life, love and at 40 proves that she’s only just begun.

Thirty-Eight Plus TWO

Wow. It’s here. Today. The big one. The one I never thought I’d make it to. Forty. I can barely type it.

But you know, so far, it’s really not so bad. Eight made me “coffee-in-bed” (bless her little heart, the “on” button wasn’t working on the coffee machine and she couldn’t get the milk carton open. I didn’t mind helpin’ her one bit when she came up with the carton while I was all bleary-eyed in bed. God forbid Twelve help her.) Anyway, she also made pancakes (again, with my help as Twelve was too busy with his Playstation 3 head-set on and was in video-game bliss) and she answered the phone all morning taking birthday messages for me while I rested. What I am finding, though, is that with the journey to forty comes the culmination of at least some wisdom and a little bit more acceptance. Forty brings decisions, (some that are life-altering), realizations, (the ah-has! we all heard about from Oprah) and the Grand Puba of all… the “fuck its/yous/thats”. Sometimes I like those the best. It means my skin is thickening and that I’m not running around with my tail between my legs all the time. Certain things and experiences are still a little frightening to face in some ways, but also exciting in others. I don’t know – maybe forty is going to be better than twenty. Mentally at least. What follows are some observations, lessons and some things I’ve accepted up to this point in my life:

For starters:

– These days, I wait anxiously each month for the “beast” to come, NOT for fear that if it doesn’t I could be pregnant, but out of fear that its absence could mean I might be experiencing those types of changes that indicate I will be growing hair in bad, more-visibly unacceptable places. When that shit happens, I’m just throwin’ in the fucking towel.

– Gone are the days when I’d fling my bra off ASAP in order to free the girls. Now I sleep with said bra in hopes that I can re-train them to lay where the good Lord intended. But really, it’s like trying to re-elasticize a rubber-band. Impossible.

– The allure of a thong is wearing off. All thongs and anything resembling a thong have somehow migrated to the bottom of the undies drawer. Not to say that I completely ignore them altogether, but lately I have more important concerns for my ass than whether I have panty-lines. The temptation of the three-pack of Hanes bikini undies hanging in Target’s intimate apparel aisle won out one day: I circled around with my wagon and finally threw in the stupid pack. For a moment, I even considered going up a size AND to briefs just for the sheer promise of MORE comfort. Comfort over style is totally age-related, although it has yet to completely win. I am not ready to give in to panty lines AND the promise of total comfort and belly-coverage all in one shot.

– I have accepted I’ve reached that level of uncoolness we all dread as parents. Here I am, thinking I can kick ASS at Wii Just Dance, but all Twelve has to do is wiggle his hips and flick the Wii remote and he wins – every fucking time. And then there I am laying, on the couch, winded and sweaty and listening to chants of “DORK DORK DORK” coming from his wise-ass self. Is it wrong that I’ve come ::thisclose:: to saying “fuck you” to my child out of sheer frustration?

– Not to say I don’t want to look nice when I leave the house, but I’ve found as I get older, I don’t care so much about how awful I look sometimes, either. I mean, really… sometimes it’s easier to fall asleep in what I’m already wearing and much easier not to have to get dressed again in the morning. What…? I have to be fashion conscious just for school drop off and a stop at 7-11? I don’t know if throwing a sweatshirt over my recycled outfit really does constitute a brand new outfit or if it just means I’m old and lazy. (pause) Okay, so after re-reading that, 1) it sounds yucky, and 2) I’ve decided that yes, I AM old and lazy. But because I know for a fact SEVERAL people who’ve done that, too, (and there are a few people I can add to that list with some degree of certainty), I don’t care that I actually wrote it. Some of you are nodding to yourselves saying, oh my god! I’m not the only one! Don’t deny it.

– The fact that I don’t care that I wrote that above means something BIG for me.

– As I get older, the more I enjoy saying really bad, offensive words. I can’t help it. I LIKE it. I say them often, too. Even to my mom, Sixty-Seven. (Well, she says them, too, so…. we’re even).

On a more serious note, I really have come to many things leading up to this decade of my life. I’ve realized that in my quest to please others, I’ve oftentimes made things harder for myself and allowed other people to hurt me. I know now that I can’t always please everyone and it’s okay. And those that have hurt me are long gone from my life and it no longer affects me negatively. They’re in my past for a reason: lesson learned, moving on.

I’ve learned that the further I am from perfect, (or trying to be), the better off I am. My faults make me strive to better myself, they motivate me, and they keep my determination alive to fight for what I want and need. Perfect, truly, is overrated and I’ve come to like and accept my idiosyncrasies.

Life really is a journey and sometimes our paths veer off to places we never knew existed or ever thought about taking. But, as Frost said:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
So, if my life takes me onto a different path, well damn it, if it ends up making all the difference, then so be it.

And finally, I have met and I have known many people in these 40 years and while some have come and gone, they were probably there for some reason. Maybe I learned what I needed, (or didn’t need, for that matter) from these people, or maybe they came and went because their paths took them another way. Whatever the reason, so be it.

Then there are those that came and went, who added nothing to my life but heartache. I’ve learned not to cry over experiences or people like that in life anymore – they’re not worth the tears or the emotional exhaustion from crying them. I’ve learned how to weed out the good from the bad because of these types. While I say “good riddance,” I’m still grateful for the lessons I’ve learned.

Then there are those friendships that have sustained throughout the years; those that have been unsinkable through the good times and the stormy ones. These are the friends that are considered as part of my family. These are the people I know who love me.

So, tonight as I celebrate this milestone, I raise my chocolate martini glass to these people:

-To those who have touched my life, whether in the past or present, I am nothing but thankful.
-To the people who make me cry from laughing so hard, and you all know who you are, laughter is most def the best medicine for anything that ails a person.
-To the people who move me to tears simply because of the admiration I have for them, or for sharing their struggles, and for demonstrating their strength during these struggles. How wonderful and generous that you’ve invited me into your lives and allowed me to stay and share with you.
– To the people who bring out the parts of me that I never knew were there,(or the parts of me that were there but were afraid to come out), and who allow me to be exactly the person I’ve come to be at this ripe ol’ age. Throughout my life, I’ve often wondered who I was and what I was all about because I’ve never had the confidence or courage to see things in myself and allow them to just “be.” Then unexpectedly, this person who’s always struggled with herself finally does come out and does so quite naturally and without much fanfare. I see the same face in the mirror, but I see a different person behind the visage. People who have come into my life and who have helped me, even unknowingly, with this type of self-discovery and acceptance are the types of friends everyone needs. I’m grateful to have them because the gift they’ve given me is priceless. I do hope and pray they know who they are, and if they don’t, well… there will come a day I will make certain they do.

So, as Thirty-Eight Plus Two (a.k.a “Forty”), I finally seem to be learning things in life, -things about people, things about myself -that have great significance and staying power. While I count my blessings of what I have and what I once had, I am looking forward to what else lies before me, what path my life may take, and the people I may encounter. And along the way, I hope that I, too, can touch people’s lives in a positive, memorable way.

Love and cheers from Ol’ Forty.

Roasted by BoneheadBlog.com

Last night we went to see  Jeffrey Ross at Caroline’s on Broadway.  My thoughtful wife got us the tickets as a Christmas gift.  If you haven’t already noticed we really enjoy stand-up comedy. We do like to laugh as often as possible, and a live comedy show is a great way to partake in our little hobby.  With us, there’s always a side story to our adventures, and last night was no exception.

The past year has been a mini comedy tour of our own.  We’ve managed to get ourselves involved in some shows – usually inadvertently.  I was invited to show off my dance skills at a show last year on our family vacation. We’ve had opportunity to meet some of our favorite comics, Lewis Black, Jon Reep, Josh Blue, Susie Essman. We went to last night’s show fully expecting to be roasted. That is of course what Ross is known for, and, as typically is the case with us – we managed to get seats right near the front. Well, we didn’t get picked on – but my wife wound up being a part of the show – as the piano player.

It was a great show. The emcee for the evening was Rachel Feinstein, a local comic who lives in Brooklyn, and she was really funny.  James Smith, whose shtick seems to be that of an Australian slacker, was absolutely hysterical. Jeffrey Ross did over an hour and had us cackling like a couple of demented schoolgirls. He was brutal – just like we had hoped.

Towards the end of his set – he asked for a volunteer to come up to the piano that was at the side of the stage to accompany him as he read some “poems”. The place was packed, probably three or four hundred in the room, yet there didn’t seem to be any piano players available, or frankly, anyone brave enough to step up and risk being insulted by the guy who’s known as the Roastmaster General.

No problem, the Giddys are in the house.

Chrissy can tickle the ivories, and occasionally actually plays the piano. I can see her looking at me as if she was saying “Should I go up there?” What she actually said was “Should I go up there?” Not to be accused later in the evening of volunteering her, I discreetly pointed in her direction and mentioned to the couple sitting next to us that my wife plays the piano. They of course took the bait and further encouraged her to go up to the piano – which she did.

So she sits down and answers the usual questions and comments; where are you from, who are you here with, you sure have some  big fucking tits …she mentioned that she had gotten me the tickets for Christmas, for which Jeffrey wished me a Merry Christmas. As too then did pretty much everyone in the place on the way out, and at the bar after the show. It was nice.

She’s playing some poetry music; actually it was Stu’s song “Doug” from The Hangover. She’s been recently teaching Junior Miss Giddy to play it. One of the ways that people get themselves into trouble at a comedy show is by trying to “out-funny” the pros. Having been to enough shows, she knew full well to just play it straight and she’d look much better, although I know how hard it must have been sitting there knowing there was a live mic right in front of her.

Each of the poems in the bit had ridiculous titles. One of them Ross entitled “I Think we should See Other People” to which Chrissy could hold back no longer. Upon hearing the title she instinctively said “Can I sing that one?” A well timed zinger designed to roast me got a great response from the room and from Jeff.

Figures, she gets me tickets to see an insult comic and she’s the one who ends up roasting me. Just another typical Saturday night out.

Check out Boneheads Stand Up debut on the Giddy Mystery Cruise

Beers with Josh Blue

Chrissys interview with Susie Essman on SpotOnLI

Time to Give by Bonehead

There’s time to be a Bonehead – and sometimes there’s not.

After spending time watching the news and scanning the stories and their horrific photos of the past forty eight or so hours reporting on the devastating Earthquake in Haiti it seems somewhat inappropriate as yet to babble along with my typical snarky attitude and usual ramblings about stupid annoyances.

So many people killed just proves once more how fragile life is, and how it can be wiped out whenever, wherever and without warning.

You’ve seen the photos and video of the devastation – it is all quite graphic and disturbing.

Often in a tragedy, a person’s quality will shine through by the simple human trait of wanting to help. When you’re too far away to lend a helping hand physically – you can always help by donating dollars. Personally, we’ve helped in some local fundraising done by Americares after both 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina – but however you may choose to do something – that choice is yours.

The international community must rise to the occasion and help the Haitian people in every way possible. Imagine you were faced with having everything you knew, your home, family, pets, possessions swallowed and taken by disaster. Imagine that such basics as running water, food and shelter from the rain were now considered a luxury.
You’d want people to reach out and help you.

Right now there are bodies lining the streets of people who’s lives were wiped out by a shift in the earths plates. There’s not enough infrastructures remaining to properly dispose or bury the dead – which means that within days those still alive will be exposed to disease, dysentery and further hardship.

Chances are you don’t know any of the people affected by this tragedy. They’ll never have any effect, positive or negative in your life. They’ll never know weather you decided to donate five bucks to an organization that can help their plight, or if you decided to slap the five bucks on the bar for another Heineken.

But if you do nothing, you can be certain that their days of never knowing will be less likely to continue.

Here are a few worthwhile charitable organizations that are helping the relief effort, and some you can feel confident your donation will actually get to the people who need it. Long Islanders have always been very generous when it comes to supported those affected by disaster, may that never change.

Network for Good

Americares

Yele

Do what you can, give even though there may be nothing in your hand.  Be a hero.  Just for one day.

New Release Tuesday-Old News

by Bonehead

New Release Tuesday As a prelude to my Black Friday extraveganza – I just thought I’d point out something you may not have noticed.  Today – two TV show contestants released their debut albums, just in time for the holiday shopping season, Adam Lambert from  American Idol , and Susan Boyle from  Britains Got Talent .

Their cover designs are somewhat similar I thought…

Reminded me of a little known album that was realeased in the early 90′s….

Not many people remember that MaCauley put out an acapella album of old school Austrian holiday music.  Problem was, his voice was just starting to change and every song sounded like a bad  Peter Brady  impression.  Plus, they were sung in German – so most of them were actually sort of frightening.

a Blog by Bonehead

I profess this forum to be a clearing house for random thoughts, rants, ideas and general stupidity. The aggressive tossing is simply reflective of an unyielding effort to be honest to whatever crosses my mind without concern over political correctness.

That’s probably too bold a description – most of my blabber is just that, blabber. And like this one – they probably tend to run a little too long to be of interest to anyone other than myself.

Don’t get the wrong idea by the title of this post either. I’m not here tonight to talk about the difficulties that being unemployed presents. Everyone knows that already – and Bonehead doesn’t play the whining game. These last few days though have been a bit of a challenge. And since my posts often venture into a rambling thistle of confusing thought-shit I humbly predict that this one will no doubt travel my typical path. I’d offer you a map – but it’s probably tucked safely in the back pocket of my pants, and I have once again, misplaced those.

Tonight, my wife inadvertently gave a mission statement to our new business – the old expression; “if you want something done, give it to a busy person”.

I’ve been out of work for about two months yet I feel like I’m working harder than ever. My wife and I are settling into our new routine, trying to get some sort of direction as to where we’re going to take this new venture. Trouble is we feel we have a boatload of new ideas, some good ideas even, but the effort and occasional fret over getting them up and running is daunting. We make a good team, and we’ve managed to get a few things started that seem to be headed in the right direction, all still geared towards a more or less official launch in January. She runs a great local online interview magazine – maybe you’ve seen it – www.spotonli.com she does the interviews, I do some of the editing, but that’s just a part of the bigger picture.

We have several other websites in production (a couple I’m actually attempting on my own – THAT’S going to be interesting) and we have a litany of special client projects that we’ve agreed to undertake. I’m considering starting a consulting firm that I feel uniquely qualified for since people have been telling me that I need counseling for years now. We’re looking into some online publishing and merchandising opportunities, and still trying to come up with a stupid enough You Tube video that we can make go viral for nothing else except our own amusement.

Sure – it all sounds wonderful. I probably could have sat out my severance period drinking beer and watching The Flintstones, then jumped into another sales position somewhere within my industry once my agreed upon time frame concluded. Nope. I decided the day I got shit-canned that I was going to attempt to make the most of this unique opportunity. I think we have thus far, but now I’ve entered the realm of anxiety that the clock is ticking. Reaching the halfway marker the other day made us stop and take a look at the status of everything, plus what’s on the calendar to do before our planned launch date. We’ve got a lot of fucking work to do.

First – it seems we’re on e-mail overload. Through the various sites and projects, we have over twenty active e-mail accounts between us on various platforms. Add that to the social media sites, twitter accounts (Bonehead tweets now, albeit one lonely tweet so far – follow me @boneheadblog) checking in on entrecard, my bloglog, blog catalogue, ebay etc, etc it seems we’re just trying to keep up sometimes. You can probably imagine all of the exciting new Viagra and male enhancement offers that many e-mail accounts provide on a daily basis, and of course, I have to review each one.

A side issue to all of these accounts is trying to remember user names and passwords to each one. Following the sage advice of varying passwords and names over online accounts, coupled with my depleted brain cell count often leads to great amusement here as I try to recall how to get into my old AOL e-mail accounts. Great amusement for all except me of course.

One of my patented spreadsheet solutions will help get that together soon.

As I was lovingly sharing a website idea with my wife, she began to ridicule me for its apparent complexity. This led her to address the multitudes of e-mail addresses and projects we seem to be laying out. Plans are piling up faster than we can address them – and we needed to simplify them into a way we can manage it more effectively.

This got me to thinking.

People have described me over the years as highly organized, efficient, detail-orientated, systematic, analytical, a prick. Face it – I’m anal retentive, but it’s helped me get the job done. Well.

So why not draw on something I actually learned through my time in radio. The most basic element of programming is the “clock”. No we’re not exactly talking about the frightening bird chirping one on the kitchen wall – but a systematic breakdown of the plan for each hour of broadcast. How many minutes for each element – music, commercials, announcements, dead air, of a show or broadcast hour is devised, then it’s painstakingly broken down literally into seconds, fed into a computer, checked and then put out over the air on a radio station nobody is really listening to anyway.

We decided to put a clock on what we anticipate our basic tasks to be on a weekly basis. Counting the precious few minutes I typically allot to Bonehead on a daily basis, it seems like we’ll be working night and day, every day until either the end of time or 12/21/12, whichever comes first. So we’re going to have to pare down and cut out some non-essentials.
Quickly to hit the scrap heap was the pants for dogs idea. Sure, your pooch might look pretty smooth in a stylish pair of chinos, but the reality is that since dogs do not have opposable thumbs – they’d have the damnedest time getting the zipper undone when it’s time for them to do their business.

Also now removed from our future plans is the online social site exclusively for gentlemen with excessive back hair and the women who love them. Nope www.fuzzback.com won’t be launched anytime soon. We have returned Robin Williams deposit.

It’s difficult sometimes to let go of your ideas. A crushing of dreams, death to hope. However, occasionally it’s necessary to fire them down in order to allow some of the smarter, better looking ones to grow further upward.

The point of any journey is not to arrive – it’s to enjoy the ride. At our pre-determined halfway point, the point now is not to return.

Laid Off

by The Bonehead Review

There are so many stories out today about people losing their jobs. Getting fired, getting laid off, it’s ultimately the same thing of course, as either way – you’re out of a job and with today’s fucked up economy – you’re probably shit out of luck.

My lovely wife has been shit out of a job since last November, and just the other day I joined her in that no longer exclusive club. Yup – they went and slammed the door on old Bone – I’m no longer wanted. Apparently the victim of more budget cuts – I suddenly find myself out on my own after almost 25 years in the same industry. It’s quite an adjustment.

I’m probably more fortunate than most in that I’ll have a severance package for a little while, and my medical benefits too. We’ve been frugal (my wife will tell you cheap) so we have some money saved, good credit, should be ok for awhile.

But buck up! I’m not here to add to all those stories of the recently unemployed. Nope, this is to be the only Bonehead article that will even talk about losing my job. I’m not interested in boring you with the same tired old story we’ve all been hearing way too much of over the past year. No way. I’ll save that task for my new website (nametoeventuallybeinsertedhere.com) which will be an integral part of what we have decided upon as our next lot in life. Like any two boneheads with some spare time would do – we’re going to take this limited opportunity to try and come up with something we can do to make a living on our own. Everyone knows the job market sucks.

So, instead of dwelling on how to deal with being laid off, let’s use this time together today to discuss what types of things my wife and I have decided we should NOT do…

For instance, we both agree that it’s probably not in our best interest to form an interracial Mariachi Band, considering the more successful bands tend to be Mexican and have at least one giant guitar – our guitar is normal sized. And we’re not Mexican.

We’re thinking too, that with our bad knees, a career in the ballet is most likely out of the question.

An unusual aversion to polyester slacks rules out my return to the fast food industry.

Oddly, my spouse has lost the ability to juggle, so our street performer opportunities have dwindled.

Other than that, the world is pretty much our oyster.

And, although we don’t yet know specifically what exactly we’re going to do – we have taken the time to toss a bunch of possible company names at the wall. The following did not stick…

- Madoff Media
- Crapshoot Designs
- Ben & Jerry’s
- Whips, Chains and Slushies (A convenience store that also caters to equestrians and bicycle part enthusiasts)
- Anthony’s Aluminum Shoes
- Al Quaida and Dawn Enterprises
- Hopeless Dreams Inc.
- Swirley’s
- Snowball In Hell Securities
- Noprah and The Dope

So, as you might have guessed, we’re still working on the company name.

A side dish my unexpected time off has fed me is that your emotions go through several stages following the loss of your job. Interestingly, it’s not very much unlike the sudden breakup of a relationship.

The first stage is really shock and surprise. The news, though not always unexpected is just not pleasant. Sort of like getting dumped by someone you don’t even really like – only in the case of a job elimination they pay you for a few months to sit quietly and pretend you’re actually sad they broke up with you.

The next stage is anger, again, only a natural human reaction. Nobody likes to feel unwanted or have their pride hurt. Again, not at all dissimilar to a romantic relationship, whereas your ex belittles your physical prowess while slowly twisting the knife in your back. Only difference in the case of a downsizing is that it’s more difficult to bury the bodies.

Then there’s the occasional bout of despair and worry. Kind of like the concern after a couples breakup for the pending shortfall in your love life. When you lose your job the concern is more for the pending shortfall in your checkbook.

You know you’re heading towards the end of stages however when you finally reach the stage of resigned acceptance. Accepting the fact that it’s really not your photo on the last remaining shit stepper membership card – and you’ve got to get back to square one and start again.

The last stage is probably a little different for everybody. Some say the final stage is one of bemused amusement. Others that it’s more or less defeat. It’s in this stage however, that often one’s future is carved. That tends to upset the janitor, because now he has to order new floor slats.

There’s really no typical timeline for you to run through the stages, like I said, everyone is different. I’d like to be bold and tell you that I ran through the stages and I’m staring down the next phase of my life with fire and focus. But you know I’d be full of crap. Truth is you run through a little of each stage every day – and it’s only over time that it becomes a much smaller part of your daily thought. It’s been a few days and I think today I spent more time being excited about the opportunity of the future than being upset about the situation. Progress is good.

I do, however, fear this forum for random nonsense may suffer with the effort required for me to most effectively manage my next journey (we’re driving to Pittsburgh next month for shits and giggles!)

I’ll try to check in once and a while to drop of few pearls of absurdity on you, I hope you’ll dive in and check them out. I hope too you’ll find our new journey as entertaining as you’ve found Bonehead.

Both of you.

by The Bonehead Review

It’s sort of a topic along those lines that’s bugging me today. Matter of fact it’s about some old guy looking to continue getting out between the lines that’s got me perturbed.

Brett Favre is older than fucking dirt – and frankly – I just wish he’s go away already. I know – I’m old too – but you don’t have to read about me in the sports pages every damn day (I’m usually in the dumb criminals section).

No denying – he was a great quarterback, and a fantastic gamer in his prime but his final pass really should have been the one he completed to Corey Webster of my beloved New York Giants. That fateful overtime interception in the 07-08 NFC Championship game that basically sealed the deal and set up the winning field goal that sent the Jints to their win in Super Bowl 42. That game is a great case in point as to why Favre should have just gone away then. Nobody thought the Giants could beat the Packers in frozen Lambeau Field – it was ice, snow and about one hundred below. But the Giants defense made Favre look like Abe Vigoda in a cheesehead helmet – he really should have carried through with his multiple threats to hang it up after that game.

Instead, he decided to fence sit for most of the off-season – holding up the Green Bay Packers in their plans for moving forward and formally awarding the starting quarterback job to incumbent Aaron Rogers. He spent way too much time wondering if he wanted to retire or not – being wishy washy with the media and his team. When the Packers finally had enough of his prima Donna bullshit they simply handed the job to Rogers, offered Favre a gold watch and some ice fishing mittens and hoped he would gracefully retire – almost on top.

Nope – old Brett then felt slighted, and began to whine loudly – demanding that the Packers allow him out of his contract so that he could negotiate a deal to play for the Bears or Vikings – arch division rivals of the Packers. Nice way to show Packer fans just how much of a team guy he was. The Packers of course would not allow it, but did however manage to trade him to the New York Jets for a case of Ben Gay and three bottles of Viagra. Yup – seems it was official – Brett was coming back for another year – to shine in the lights of Broadway with the Giants sad ugly stepsister – the Jets.

Favre certainly did have some good games for the Jets – and they cleaned up with merchandise sales of #4 Jets jerseys and denture cups with the Jets logo and Favres lifetime interceptions records on them. Hell, he even may have had something to do with the odd sales increase of Wrangler Jeans in the New York metro area. However, the year did not end well. For while Brett continued his ironman consecutive games streak, a rumored elbow ailment seriously curtailed his late season effectiveness, and with it dashed the playoff hopes for the team.

So as the Jets set off early back to the proverbial drawing board, the media covering the circus that Brett Favre had now become began the annual speculation as to weather he would or wouldn’t retire. Brett, as had become his custom – went off to the woods of Mississippi to hunt – because the killing of innocent creatures for sport apparently helped Brett decide if he wanted to bother NFL fans for yet another season. Somewhere along his trip however, he most have gotten lost – because the Jets were trying to move on. Brett would not give them a clear answer as to what he wanted to do, and the Jets, to their credit, were actually somewhat lukewarm to him returning. They’d just hired a brand new head coach whose basic motto is simply “don’t take shit from anyone” and they decided not to put up with Favre’s annual indecision condition. They told him to take a fucking walk, and drafted a hot shot quarterback in the first round of the draft.

So what did old Brett do? Now effectively a free agent – he decided to once again keep some young deserving quarterback out of a job in Minnesota – as he has been rumored to have signed with the Vikings. Of course, he’s said he’s staying retired, and they haven’t as yet had the proverbial press conference with thousands of reporters and John Madden fawning over the great Brett Favre – but Favre actually underwent surgery to remove the age spots from his elbow that sunk the Jets this past season and has attended team meetings where he went incognito by wearing bifocals and a hunting hat. I just can’t wait for the same damn media circus that has surrounded his decision for what seems like the last ten seasons, that Brett Favre has decided to come back for one more year.

Go the hell home already – nobody cares about your unfounded vengeance against the Packers – the organization that you obviously helped win many games for with your reckless style, but let’s face facts – you also cost the team plenty of games with your…reckless style.

I think why this situation pisses me off so much is that like anything else – you get tired of hearing and seeing the same old stories over and over. Let’s hear about the games and the players who are performing currently – and quit spending so much time on a washed up player who’s more interested in keeping himself in the spotlight than truly helping a team. His me-first behavior has severely damaged his reputation as a warrior and legend – and that’s sad. Lots of players have hung around just a little too long – but very few have made themselves more annoying than a mosquito buzzing in the ear of a guy with no arms.

Just go away Brett. Go far Farve away.

Please visit http://boneheadreview.blogspot.com/ for more random thoughts thrown aggressively at the wall.

Based on the events of yesterday, I’d be remiss if I didn’t spend a moment commenting on the passing of Michael Jackson. Obviously I have previously taken advantage of many opportunities to be a wise ass prick. And you’d think with the plethora of material that the odd and questionable actions Jacko has engaged in over the years would lead me down the same path.

Nah, that should be saved for another time perhaps. Not now. As fucked up as he was reported to be – nobody can honestly deny what an iconic and brilliant talent he actually was. Even more so – he was a celebrity that was so much larger than life, it’s even more undeniable that the legend will forever only grow larger.

True legends are rare – and of course, our society dictates that their popularity is eminently grander if they are celebrities from the entertainment or sports world.

My Italian heritage obligates me to mention Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio as legends, although I’m fairly certain few could argue even if they’re opposed to our vowel-ending surnames and penchant for Camaros and Chianti. Some of the few names that you can toss in the same ring might be Elvis Presley, John Lennon and Muhammad Ali. And, well…you get the point; there aren’t really all that many names. Screwy as he may have acted in his personal life, when you look at the world wide popularity and lifetime success that the man had for 45 of his 50 years – Michael Jackson quite possibly could have been the most famous, and legendary celebrity we’ve ever known.

I caught the end of a news report on the radio (yes, really, on the radio) late yesterday afternoon – and it was one of those AP feeds that was a little choppy, and the reporter was reading off bits of information as they got them. He’d been transported to UCLA Medical Center, possible cardiac arrest, pause, no further information, it sounded serious and important, but as the feed was going along, and as I had tuned in after it began, it was a full minute or so before they repeated who they were talking about. I was surprised when they said Michael Jackson.

Checking online back at the office I read a little more and then caught a story stating he was in a coma. A bit after 5:30pm I received an e-mail headline from All Access (a radio industry newsletter) that Michael Jackson was dead.

I’m not going to bullshit anyone that I was a big fan – but I would never deny his talent and influence, and always liked some of his songs. But, like most people my age – I too sort of grew up with his music and videos, and, frankly, found a few of his foibles somewhat entertaining. Yes, he was 50 – but you never thought of him being 50 – you thought of him as a life long child – so it made his passing all that much more shocking.

I was going to call Chrissy and tell her, but then thought it might upset her and didn’t want to be the one to do that. She called me about a half hour later – and was crying. I didn’t quite expect for her to be as sad as she was, but then realized as she’s so much more of a child of the ‘80’s than I (yes, she’s waaay younger than I) it was somewhat more devastating to her than me. Guess I sort of fell between the Elvis and Michael Jackson generation.

Everyone is, and rightfully so, posting and showing some of his greatest hits in remembrance. In fairness, I could tell you that I distinctly recall hearing “Beat It” for the first time. Interestingly, I heard it on a certain rock radio station, that several years later I was hired to work for. Also interestingly, I learned years later that that certain station got in major trouble for playing the song off a radio promo almost a week before it was approved for air by the record company (Release date was 2/14/83). Seems that the PD wanted to play the song ahead of time since Eddie Van Halen was featured on the song, and Van Halen was a core artist for the station.

Not the only great song with a legendary guitarist – I always enjoyed the song and video for “Black or White” with Slash.

Some of Boneheads favorite Michael Jackson songs and videos are “Smooth Criminal” – mainly because the very talented young Junior Miss Giddy did a great dance number in competitions and recitals to the song when she was an even younger Junior Miss. I also always got a kick out of the video for “Leave Me Alone” because I always appreciate when somebody can poke fun at themselves in a public forum, and I always felt he sort of did this in the video for this song. My all time favorite though is “Scream” – and not just because it’s a duet with his hot sister.

Now is not the time to focus on the sometimes strange actions of a man who lived his entire life in the public eye and was left open to intense daily scrutiny. It’s time to be a little sad for the passing of a talented man whose early death may have ultimately been the result of just that.

Just to satisfy my own curiosity, and to be sure that I wasn’t thinking out of school, I checked our own tube of chewy chocolaty chip Toll House Cookies. As I had suspected – there, plain as day, were explicit directions on how to COOK the cookie dough. It involved baking the product in the oven prior to consumption. Any oven is fine, so long as you turn it on. Again, presumably to cook the product.

This is just a glaring example of a company caving to the constant threats of the litigious society that we exist in. Did anyone stop to think that most e-coli and salmonella bacteria are easily killed off when confronted with the angry heat of an oven or stovetop? Why would you eat something that’s obviously filled with chemicals and preservatives, then molded into a tube and swaddled in a chemically enhanced plastic wrapping without cooking the shit first? You deserve a case of the squirts for being an asshole in the first place.

Don’t take your stupidity to the news media looking for sympathy because your fucking tummy hurts. You ate raw mass produced product – you’re supposed to cook it. Even the name of the product makes it seem blatantly obvious – COOKies.

The FDA has a very vivid description of E. coli on their website (albeit without pictures for the folks in Alabama) telling everyone and their brother that it is a potentially deadly bacterium that can cause bloody diarrhea, dehydration and, in the most severe cases, kidney failure. Sounds like a great way to spend a Friday evening – get me a spoon and some raw cookie dough and sign me up.

Apparently Nestle is cooperating fully with the FDA on their investigation. I can just imagine their chief competitor – the Pillsbury Dough Boy laughing his ass off and calling the executives at Nestle a bunch of wimp-ass pussies for recalling their tubed product because a batch of inbred brainless morons decided to wolf it down before it ever had a fair chance to become cookies.

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