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I laugh when women say “He and I are JUST friends.  Men and women can be just friends.”  Women think like that because they think like women and think that men can distinguish between being a friend and being someone  they take off their clothes with and do adult things.  Ladies, let me allow you a look behind the curtain of Oz.  WE CAN’T!  Gay guys are probably the reason for the assumption that all guys can be “just friends” because gay guys really do wanna be your friend (and discuss fashion).  When straight guys are sitting across from you as you share a story about your best friends relationship problems and he nods his head appearing to understand and be interested in what you are saying he ACTUALLY is wondering what you would look like in the morning wearing one of his tee-shirts while you made him breakfast.

The truth is if it weren’t for the sex I really think that guys would always hang out with guys.  Think about it.  It’s a big deal to have a “night out with the boys.”   We drink beer, watch sports, talk about sports, talk about drinking beer, drink too much beer, talk about how we COULD have played in the NFL, etc.  Guys are a different breed.  We basically are still cavemen that went to charm school.  If you’re “guy friend” meets ya out for drinks at happy hour just know you actually are sitting across from “Thor” who would love to drag you by your hair back to his cave to do the prehistoric tango!

Some of you ladies may actually bring this blog to the attention of your man to question its validity.  He’ll read it and fume inside because a member of his gender would DARE to reveal the truth but I can tell ya what he’ll say right now:  “Honey, that may be how the REST of guys are but I don’t feel that way because YOU fulfill all my needs.”  See.  We know how to play the game.


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I talk on the radio for a living.  The last time I hosted my morning radio show here in West Palm Beach was January 19, 2011.  This time off may have been a bit of a financial burden but it has also been the greatest gift of my life.  I’ve really gotten to know my mother.

Mom moved down here in 1987 and I finally made my way down here in 2004.  The irony was that I was close in distance but the time I put in at the radio station kept me from spending a lot of social time with mom.  I should have MADE more time for mom because she’s quite the remarkable person.  I was so caught up in MY world that valuable time slipped away.  There is an amazing moment in our lives when we look at our parents as “people” and they truly do become our “best friends.”  I lost my father twelve and a half years ago and we were already on that level and in the past nine months I’m happy to say mom and I are on that level as well.

I found out even without a college degree my mom is a remarkable businesswoman.  She’s much more stronger emotionally than me and she actually does possess a sense of humor.  This is all in addition to what I already knew about my mom:    no one will ever be able to have a garden like hers,  she makes the BEST salad in the world (she says the secret is to squeeze a bit of lemon around the bowl before ya toss), and she will ALWAYS over cook a pork roast because “If it’s pink inside, you’re gonna get worms.”

Mom spends a lot of time at my house because we both love to cook.  When she makes the ten-mile drive home I tell her to give me “one ring” when she gets home.  Suddenly the child has become the parent.  I learned a valuable lesson in my time off but now I think its time to get back to work……I really think I’m getting on my mother’s nerves.

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A lot of people follow Pat Robertson.  That concerns me because Pat Robertson is an idiot.  Pat Robertson just said the recent earthquakes in Oklahoma are a sign that we are near the end of time.  I’m not kidding.  Click HERE.  I say we call this guy’s bluff.  If we are near the end of time then I say I shut off his goof ball TV show and stop following his ministry.  Take that $500 a month that you “donate” to buy tweed sport coats and bracelets that correct Pat’s magnetic field and  spend it on your FAMILY.

Look, I believe in a Supreme Being.  I don’t know what He or She stands for  and what they have planned for our future but I can be assured of one thing:  Whoever it is…is not talking to Pat Robertson.  Did we forget that back in the 70’s this guy was saying the world was going to end in November of 1982?  We all know now that the good Lord wanted us to enjoy Poison and other hair bands thus we dodged that potentially fatal moment in time.  Pat Robertson is a used car salesman selling the bible.  God LOVES you but ya gotta FEAR God.  I don’t know about you but I don’t FEAR anyone I LOVE.

I’m always leery of the person in the room that makes the most noise.  I believe that person is trying to draw attention away from the fact that they are the least comfortable.  Pat Robertson is so quick to supply all the answers and that makes me think he should be questioned more than anyone.

 

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I like sports bars.  The conversations I find myself involved in seldom resolve around sports.  This past weekend we decided to tackle the perplexing question of “Who is the biggest douche-bag in the world?”  Sadly, many qualified nominees come to mind.  Mel Gibson; I say that was a meltdown we’ll never see again so in my book one incident doesn’t make a douche-bag.  Disappear for awhile and people will forget everything.  Just ask Michael Richards….whenever he decides to reappear.

Kim Kardashian?  Annoying but not a douche-bag.  She over-stayed her welcome and married a cave-man.  At least Reggie Bush has played better since she became single.  Andy Dick?  Ohhh.  Much better choice.  Andy constantly reinvents ways to get arrested and into the news for the wrong reason.  This is a guy that got thrown out of a PORN AWARDS SHOW!  I can’t argue a vote for Andy Dick just like I can’t argue a vote for Guns and Roses front-man Axl Rose.  How can a man with a page called “Axl Rose is an Asshole” on Facebook NOT be considered for biggest douche ever?

As you can see I have given this some thought!!  There is only one person that I feel good about as a douche.  I gotta vote for Michael Lohan.  Its bad enough he IS a douche but he REALIZES he’s a douche and he continues to do “douchey” things.  If you want to fix things with your daughter don’t try and do it in the press by pointing a finger at her.  Stop dating twenty year olds.  YOU are a mess so any woman who wants anything to do with you is a mess as well.  Don’t be surprised when SHE acts like looney-tune because that is what you attract.  Get out of that wheel chair, stop screaming “victim”, and make something out of your life!  Ahhhhhh….the life-coach of Michael Lohan.  THAT would be a task…….

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It was a tough week for Herman Cain but did it HAVE to be?  When you run for President everyone is concerned about what you did in the past that has nothing to do with your ability to run the country.  It’s always been that way.  Somehow we believe that if we elect someone without a checkered past then that insures economic and personal growth.   A few years ago Cain was accused of sexual harassment.  Allegedly one of those victims received a check for $45,000.  All of a sudden Cain has developed amnesia about these allegations/events.  He doesn’t recall the incident and he doesn’t remember writing a check.  C’mon Herman.  Big balls made you a success, man up and show them now.  All he has to do is say : “There were allegations that were addressed.  That’s in the past and has been dealt with.  I choose to focus on the problems of the NOW.” 

Are we really concerned about “character” in the White House?  Thomas Jefferson knocked up one of his slaves, ten years before Grover Cleveland became President he knocked up a store clerk, Warren Harding paid a mistress $20K in hush money, JFK basically turned the White House into the grotto at the Playboy Club, and Bill Clinton made us aware that a “hummer” doesn’t necessarily refer to a military transport vehicle.   Why are we afraid to embrace our past?  You can’t enjoy success unless you have experienced defeat.  You can’t climb unless you fall.  The key is to LEARN from your past and not repeat mistakes in the future.  This country is in trouble and we NEED someone who can get us out of it.  Cain just might be the guy but we’re worried that if he gets elected he’ll wanna hang the Presidential Seal from his scrotum.  The guy is even catching hell from the press because his wife has been absent on the campaign trail.  HE is the one running people!

I won’t vote for anyone that doesn’t have a skeleton in their past.  I also won’t vote for anyone that doesn’t learn from their mistakes. My late father gave me some great advice.  He said “Always be aware of what your biggest weakness is.”  If you are confident in who you are and where you are going that should be an easy answer and a beneficial one as well.  Once we address that weakness it will only makes us stronger.

 

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If you’re gonna play in the adult world then ya better get ready for adult problems.  Justin Bieber is just seventeen years old.  He sells out twenty thousand seat venues across the world, is recognized everywhere he goes and has enough money to never have to work another day in his life.  Allegedly he shared some of his “teen-seed” with a groupie backstage in San Diego, has a three-month old baby by this princess, and she’s suing for paternity.  WOW!

When I was seventeen there wasn’t a posse’ of estrogen circling the wagons at my house.  I was making beer bongs in my basement.  I didn’t have screaming girls throwing themselves at me, rather, it was the polar opposite:  I approach girls and they leave screaming.  I really didn’t need supervision or advice about sex because there were no willing participants of the required gender to create such a compromising situation.  I do remember my father giving me some rather prehistoric advice:  “Don’t soak it too long.”  I’m not kidding.  Suddenly my mission statement down the road to the discovery of my own sexuality paralleled a Palmolive Dish Soap commercial campaign.

Justin Bieber makes a lot of money for a lot of people.  He knocks up some groupie and that cash cow is gonna dry up FAST.  The brand is tarnished.  The image is ruined.  He has no choice but to go Country!  With SO much money on the line there is NO WAY this kid was left to put himself in such a situation.  But did BIEBER tell his “people” to back off? Did he say he wanted his 30 seconds of private romance in a backstage bathroom?  He has to know he is the reason, he is the vortex and he is the brand.  You could see where the “adults” would bow to the child.

Bottom line:  money doesn’t buy knowledge and at seventeen you need supervision.  Side-bar to Bieber:  Be proud of those thirty seconds.  At seventeen…..that makes you the mayor!

 

 

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These are trying times.  The upcoming 2012 election may be one of the most important  in the history of our nation.  So what the HELL was Governor Rick Perry thinking when he showed up hammered last Friday night at a fund-raiser?  Check out the video HERE.

We all screw up but this guy actually thought he could fake his way through the speech.  He looked like Richard Dawson the host of the old Family Feud.  Dawson would get so hammered during tapings that he practically was sticking his tongue down the trachea of every female contestant on the show.  I’m surprised Perry didn’t stop in the middle of his speech and say “100 people surveyed..top three answers on the board…’What does my breath smell like?’  SHOW ME SCOTCH!”

You know his “people” told him “Don’t go out there yet, Rick.”  But noooooooo!  I imagine he said “Look.  I’m the Governor already.  I’m a front-runner for the GOP nomination.  No ones gonna tell this cowboy when he’s gonna ride!”  I feel sorry for the staff member he said this to because I am sure that person was sandblasted by his septic saliva.  You can feel the tension in the room based on the nervous laughter.  Its like being at a charity fund-raiser.  If you donate a ton of money you could dry-hump the chandelier in the ballroom and people would say you were being “clever.”

Take the show business out of politics.  Imagine if the Governor said this; “Wow! I’m pretty bombed.  I’m gonna sit down before I make a real ass out of myself.  Don’t drink and drive.”  MADD loves ya.  Ya get to run back to the bar and top off and you just injected HONESTY into the campaign!  I’ll tell ya this much; if they ever bring beer pong into the debates I know who my money is on!

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Our national nightmare is over.  Our borders are now secure.  Steven  Segal has become a legitimate border sheriff in Texas!  I first thought this was a publicity stunt for his show on A & E “Lawman.”  This is where Segal rides in a police car and says in between bites of his fast-food burger “There he is” and “Let’s get him.”    This is no publicity stunt America.  Steven Segal is guarding our borders!!

This would have been a bolt of fear for southern immigrants had it been 1988.  This is not your 1988 Steven Segal.  This is your 2011 Steven Segal.  Still confused?  Think when we were choosing the Elvis stamp.  We had the “young Elvis” and the “Fat Elvis.”  Gravity has not been kind to Segal.  How is he gonna protect the borders?  The only Mexican I have faith in him catching is a quesadilla smothered in shredded cheese.  We can try not feeding Segal for a few days in the hopes that would-be illegals would stay south for  fear of actually being eaten by the former star of Under Siege.   We could build a tree stand for him to stand guard every night.  Imagine a group of ten trying to cross into our sacred land.  Segal pounces from his tree stand and all would be apprehended.  Assuming of course his land doesn’t lie on a fault line or thousands may perishes and we could suffer after shocks for weeks.

Perhaps the only option having Steven Segal successfully guard our borders is to have him just lie down in his backyard.  The prospect of scaling his massive stomach will surely discourage even the most experienced mountain climber.  Once we get into winter we could have kids from  church groups bussed in to ski off his massive girth.  If he lays down (and from the looks of it I think he does—a lot) I’m sure his navel would get a powdery base by mid-December.

Take a deep breath America, no need to doublecheck all the dead-bolts, maybe even sleep with a window cracked this weekend.  We all are a little safer thanks to Steven Segal!

 

 

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Over the weekend I read a story about the New York Mets allegedly having a porn room inside their clubhouse at old Shea Stadium.  I’m a fairly twisted guy but I have a hard time understanding the appeal of a “porn room.”  I can honestly say I don’t own a porn magazine, DVD, crazy lotion or silly rubber toy.  I live alone.  I know my luck.  I don’t need my mother stopping over and finding me dead on the couch, wearing a satin turban, holding a rubber rattle, a tube of Super Slide stuck to the dog, holding a copy of “Tight Sweater” magazine while the DVD menu for “Rambo–Ohh-Ohh” is frozen on the big screen.  My mother has suffered enough.  She doesn’t need that vision carved into her soul as she awaits her meeting with St. Peter. 

A “porn room?”  Really??  I can never imagine saying to one of my friends “Wow!  Two great games back to back.  What do ya say we order a pizza and you pick out a porno for us to watch.”  There is something really creepy about more than one guy watching porn.  It falls into the category of a guy going to a tattoo parlor and getting a tramp stamp.  You COULD do it but why WOULD you?

Imagine saying this to your wife guys, “Hey Honey.  I’m gonna take that treadmill out of the back room and drop it off at Goodwill.  I figure that’s a perfect place for our porn room.”  Cancel that trip to Home Depot there Bob Villa.  You know she’ll surround you like a cluster from Bob’s Barricades.  You’ll be in trouble for even MENTIONING something as a porn room.  Suddenly your trip to Home Depot went from getting some sheets of dry wall and a flat screen mounting bracket to thirty bags of mulch, several flats of flowers and a sun-dial.

It’s hard enough for me to explain baseball to some females.  A porn-room seriously reduces the sports credibility.   So I  ask baseball to focus on the basics.  Go back to spitting and grabbing yourselves.