noreply@blogger.com (The Mill)Tue, 5 Nov 2024 22:02:23 -0500Blogger http://www.blogger.com395125http://www.iamthemill.com/en-usnoHumor,blog,Rathmill,funnyHear me read my blog posts. I've been told I have a soothing voice, so sit back and relax. Material is intended to be humorous, and varied - and could involve some of my favorite things such as dogs, beer or bacon. And anything in between. Give a listen. It don't cost nothin'.I Am The MillThe Millsrathmill@gmail.comThe Millhttp://www.iamthemill.com/2013/03/environmental-catastrophe.htmlFri, 22 Mar 2013 22:16:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-7341536277001057544These people have been openly plotting a global environmental catastrophe for almost 150 years (founded in 1866). There definitely aren't any paint cans that big, but if successful this would literally kill everyone. They MUST be stopped. Buy Glidden.<br /> <br /> <img height="442" id="irc_mi" src="http://media.advisorone.com/advisorone/article/2013/02/27/sherwin-williams-logo.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="310" /><br /> <br /> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img alt="" src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" style="border: 0; vertical-align: middle;" /></a>&nbsp;<a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2011/10/siri-and-her-serious-problems.htmlimaginary friendsiphoneSiriMon, 17 Oct 2011 13:58:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-9173938571711320909So I did, in fact, get the iPhone 4S on Friday - pre-ordered and delivered to my door. No waiting in line required. It was a beautiful experience. And as is surely the case with the other 4 million or so new iPhone owners, I 've spent a decent amount of time playing with Siri, the new iPhone’s personal assistant. In theory, Siri can help you find restaurants, make appointments, send emails, check the weather, and rhyme with the word “theory.” I have generally found Siri to only be useful for that last item listed.<br /><br />Mostly, I just want to digitally choke her.<br /><br />She seems to actually work about 25% of the time, and the rest of the time either can’t understand what I’m saying - although I haven’t tried a British accent yet - or has trouble connecting to “The Network.”<br /><br />I understand Siri was released as a beta product - so no guarantees that it’ll work perfectly. And after sniffing around the web a bit, it’s clear that I’m not the only one having problems. Furthermore, don’t believe some of the quick fixes that are out there on tech blogs, etc. - such as resetting your network connections and/or restarting the phone, and turning Siri on and off. If they work, it’s only by chance. I’ve tried.<br /><br />It appears that it’s some kind of network issue - likely due to millions of lonely iPhone users trying to talk to Siri at the same time - and Apple’s servers just can’t handle the overload of emotional neediness. Apple seems to have underestimated the broken dreams and neurotic insecurities of their user base. They just want someone to talk to, is all. And they want that someone to not be a human, but to be an iPhone. Is that so much to ask?<br /><br />Personally, I love the phone, and would love it even more if it could also be my friend. It would be my first inanimate friend since early childhood - or maybe a bit more recently than that, if I’m being honest with myself. But I’ve made it this far without Siri, and I expect I’ll be able to make it a bit further. Luckily, I haven’t forgotten how to perform a Google search for “Italian restaurants near zip code 19147”, or type an email or text message.<br /><br />Because once Siri’s working like a charm, and people are fully dependent on it, I believe the next iPhone update will feature an intracranial implant of some sort. Just close one eye, and it dials. Think about pizza, and Siri 2.0 orders it for you. Siri 2.0 will also allow you to taste sounds, and see other people’s thoughts. It’s simply a matter of time.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2011/10/jobless-and-jobs-less.htmldreamsiphoneSteve JobsMon, 10 Oct 2011 13:16:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-3216900825882435736With unemployment at a very shitty 9.1%, a double-dip recession looming, the Phillies knocked out of the playoffs prematurely, and the release of Hugh Jackman’s latest steaming pile of crap “Real Steel” in theaters now, it didn’t seem like anything else could really go wrong. I mean, what else could possibly happen that could make things worse than they already are?<br /><br />And then Steve Jobs died. My iPhone literally shed tears and the screen faded to black. Which, of course, voids the warranty and fries the circuit board. Now I’m literally forced to get a new one. Apparently, liquid originating from inside the iPhone is even worse than liquid on the outside - like when you drop it in the toilet, as I’m sure we’ve all done at one time or another. My advice: if it’s a public toilet, just let it go, man.<br /><br />Anyway, Jobs was truly the man with the master plan. Apple was well on its way to unrestricted world domination before his untimely passing. And who’s to say if his dream will ultimately be realized without him. So far, things don’t look good. The new iPhone - the 4S - endured a rather tepid reception due to the fact that it can’t drive your car for you, or teach your dog how to read. Furthermore, it doesn’t contain a bottle opener, or a laser leveling device for hanging pictures. Other people were disappointed that it didn’t have a redesigned body. Superficial bastards. For that, I couldn’t care less.<br /><br />I for one, am waiting for my dream iPhone to be made a reality. Jobs and his fellow imagineers had done a nice job - gotten off to a strong start. But there’s so much more work to be done. Sure, maybe the iPhone features I mention above only appeared in one of my more recent iPhone dreams. Maybe technology can’t yet control a car via wireless radio signals, or teach a poodle how to pronounce “pusillanimous.” It’s crazy, I know. But one thing that Steve Jobs and I had in common is that we’re both dreamers. Call us visionaries. Call us futurists. Call me "Skittles." But don’t call me on my iPhone and tell me not to dream. That’s like telling Albert Einstein to comb his hair. Or telling the Philadelphia Eagles defense to tackle a running back.<br /><br />It's not gonna happen.<br /><br />For nostalgia's sake, some of my previous iPhone dream features included: integrated egg timer; jumper cables; fruit-flavored touchscreen; baby wipes dispenser; built-in breathalyzer and rape whistle (depending on which end you blow into).<br /><br />The list goes on an on from there, trust me. The only dreams of mine that Apple has so far included in any of its iPhones is the fact that the device makes me more popular, and better-looking. I’m pretty sure I also lose about 8 or 9 pounds whenever I upgrade, but we’ll have to see if the iPhone 4S can improve on those statistics. Stay tuned.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2011/01/jones-bacon-flavored-soda-review-of.htmlbaconjones sodaMon, 3 Jan 2011 22:03:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-7579358026302918807(<span style="font-style: italic;">Volume 1 in a possible series - depending on what other interesting stuff I find to drink</span>)<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8t6DzbmEvH_4rp4YsrAVfnPitDF2mbXD356xCtIuIYMTwdcjvgfdrmhX3YPbGPUs1X523NlLHyOv97wXCBR4Ekr2wU_HPZ539iC56YJrVolMky-FfkVb0-0fNDZ7u3Eyx9Hp/s1600/jones+bacon.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8t6DzbmEvH_4rp4YsrAVfnPitDF2mbXD356xCtIuIYMTwdcjvgfdrmhX3YPbGPUs1X523NlLHyOv97wXCBR4Ekr2wU_HPZ539iC56YJrVolMky-FfkVb0-0fNDZ7u3Eyx9Hp/s320/jones+bacon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558161628560130082" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Despite the label, strange-nosed, ethnic-looking children are not one of the main flavoring ingredients - at least not as disclosed by Jones.</span><br /></div><br /><br />Just like Orangina, 7-Up, or Dr. Pepper, Jones Bacon Soda tells you exactly what it will taste like from the name on the label.<br /><br />But before I get into the real meat of this review - and other tasty puns - I’d like to be perfectly clear as to how I came into possession of this (or any) meat flavored soda. Quite simply, it’s known far and wide that I love the taste of bacon. And my brother thought this would make an interesting Hanukkah gift. He was right.<br /><br />I’m pretty sure if I saw this soda in a grocery store, I’d be tempted to buy a bottle. So it’s quite possible I would have tried this on my own anyway. But as usual, my bro beat me to the punch and bought me a gift that I didn’t even know I wanted until after I received it.<br /><br />To be clear, Jones does not use any real swine or swine-derived products in this soda. It’s 100% vegetarian, and only includes nearly 100% artificial flavors and colors. I’m pretty sure that’s the only way it could be made, considering it contains 0% pork.<br /><br />Perusing the ingredients list provides few clues to the presumably earthly origin of this beverage. There’s not a whole lot there that seems out of the ordinary for any soft drink. I can’t say for sure that every soda I’ve ever tried contains propylene glycol alginate, but I also can’t say for sure that this isn't an ingredient commonly found in oven cleaner.<br /><br />Further perusal of the label teaches us that this beverage has zero fat, and only 10 calories per bottle - definitely not bacon-like attributes. But on the other hand, a single bottle contains over 500 milligrams of sodium - 21% of the US RDA. I’d go out on a limb to say that this a shitload of salt to find in a soft drink. But maybe not too much to find in a bacon soft drink.<br /><br />Now for the official tasting notes.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Appearance: </span><br /><br />The liquid itself is a deep ruby red with purple highlights. It looks like beet juice, or maybe pig’s blood mixed with beet juice. Neither of those are listed in the ingredients, so this description is just for your mind’s eye. It pours a fizzy pale pink head of rapidly dissipating foam, leaving only a wisp of ephemeral lacing on the glass. I was also going to use the word "gossamer," but that sounds stupid, particularly when describing bacon soda.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Odor:</span><br /><br />A sulfurous, smoky nose overwhelms the nostrils and confuses the brain. Is this bacon and egg flavored soda? Is this stuff safe to drink? It doesn’t really smell much like bacon unless you use your imagination. Maybe it smells more like a pan in which bacon had been cooked three days ago, and then left out in the sun and urinated on by a cat, and then allowed to heat up again to boil off most of the cat urine. MOST, but not all of the urine.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Taste:</span><br /><br />This shit tastes like bacon. It’s weird. It actually kinda tastes like bacon. There are no ifs ands or buts about it. It’s sweet, smoky, and salty all at once, with slightly sulfurous, minerally, cat pee undertones. It’s as if the cat had eaten a lot of nutrasweet, or sucralose before peeing in that pan - lending an artificial flavor to that sweetness. (Note: do not feed your cat massive amounts of nutrasweet or sucralose and then see if their piss tastes strangely sweet. This will give your cat brain cancer, and make you a fucking maniac.)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mouthfeel:</span><br /><br />There is something oily about this soda. It coats your mouth in a way that soda really should not do. Maybe it’s the propylene glycol alginate. I certainly hope that’s all it is.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Drinkability:</span><br /><br />VERY, VERY LOW. I would say it is almost impossible to drink 12 ounces of this stuff in a single sitting. I defy you to do so without a Coca-Cola chaser. Or even a whiskey chaser. I really appreciate the novelty of the bacon flavor. But the thought of drinking a full serving of this makes me a little nauseous. It might actually be good as a flavor component of deep-fried sweet and sour pork. I will send Paula Deen an email about this immediately.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Summary:</span><br /><br />If you like bacon, I would recommend you try Jones Bacon-flavored soda. But be prepared to dump out most of it. In other words, five out of five stars, and 10 Michelin diamonds.<br /><br />Just kidding, 3 out of 10.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>3srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/12/mills-new-mayoral-fan.htmlmayor nuttermichael vickphiladelphia eaglesTue, 28 Dec 2010 10:39:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-791023286009751224<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGS_wulrnBEXI4M5VEAzXVx-eHtOjKwQezEZyC9njTmJt7ZVLF-3y38IOo-PR1GXLbZwonqRk2DAiZrKaYd32bMSd6w5SbSbeiX8VvsPKy9d2tO9TYIh3VC-GTPSRrwFR9d2ie/s1600/MayorNutterBioPhoto.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGS_wulrnBEXI4M5VEAzXVx-eHtOjKwQezEZyC9njTmJt7ZVLF-3y38IOo-PR1GXLbZwonqRk2DAiZrKaYd32bMSd6w5SbSbeiX8VvsPKy9d2tO9TYIh3VC-GTPSRrwFR9d2ie/s320/MayorNutterBioPhoto.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555760947541943074" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">The Mill's new biggest fan?</span><br /></div><br />(<span style="font-style: italic;">It's rare that a single man wields such tremendous power over both what we perceive as reality, and the many worlds of our imagination. But this week is gigantically important for the NFL and for fantasy football teams - and Mayor Michael Nutter is the most powerful man in both realms. I decided to write him a letter thanking him for pretty much winning me my fantasy league this year. And for being an all-around nice guy.</span>)<br /><br />Dear Mr. Mayor,<br /><br />You are obviously a huge Philadelphia Eagles fan. I’m pretty sure it’s stipulated in the city charter. But I had no idea that you were also such a big fan of my fantasy football team, “Vick and the Underdogs.” You see, your decision to postpone this week’s game against the Minnesota Vikings will most likely guarantee us another fantasy championship.<br /><br />Please allow me to explain.<br /><br />My team consists of a bunch of players (see Schedule A attached), including - but not limited to - Mike Vick and DeSean Jackson. The original game time, 8:30pm on Sunday night, would have coincided with a ferocious blizzard of biblical proportions. These are not conditions typically conducive to Vick’s and D-Jax’s field stretching deep game. Instead of watching the dynamic duo make TD passes fall like rain on an overmatched Vikings secondary, we were more likely to see handoff after handoff to some running back who is not on my fantasy team - WhoSean McSomething, or whatever - as the teams slowly battled across a frozen tundra of shattered fantasy dreams and broken make-believe promises.<br /><br />But thanks to you and your so-called concern for public safety, we can now see Vick and the Eagles run and throw unencumbered by blinding snow and 6-foot snowdrifts. There will also be less risk of an avalanche burying the goalposts, which would confuse David Akers enough to possibly kick the ball the wrong way - which he hardly ever does. (Note: Akers is also on my fantasy team).<br /><br />Consider the fact that the NFL has not postponed a game due to snow (not including the Metrodome’s recent roof collapse) since some time right before the War of 1812. This can only lead me to believe - and since my fantasy football team has only been around since some time AFTER 1812 - that you postponed the game to virtually assure my fantasy team of victory. No other logical explanation exists.<br /><br />So instead of waiting for your imminent fan mail to me - soon after I capture my crown as repeat champion of our fantasy league - I decided to beat you to the punch and send a quick note to you - not only thanking you for your patronage, but also providing some answers to a couple of questions that you were probably wondering about.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Question</span>: Mill, how do you do it year after year?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Answer</span>: I’ll assume you’re asking about my rampant success with fantasy football, and not the fact that my waist size hasn’t changed since college. Well, it all comes down to being smarter than everyone else. And/or having a faster internet connection so that you can pick up free agent players like Michael Vick before anyone else in the league gets their dirty little paws on them.<br /><br />In fantasy football, as in like, you need to “take it one day at a time.” Like the Marines, you need to be “Always Ready.” And as General George S. Patton said, “A man is not a baby or a woman. So quit crying, take off those pantyhose, and get back to shooting some Nazi bastards!.....Seriously, they’re headed this way.”<br /><br />As a fantasy football manager, these are all words to live by, and sometimes you just have to hope that the other managers in your league are not Nazis.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Question</span>: What’s your prediction for the game tonight?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Answer</span>: Thanks for that question. Of course, the Eagles are going to win big. 48-10 would be my most conservative guess. Vick throws for over 400 yards, and rushes for another 80. DeSean catches 9 passes for 196 yards and 3 TD’s. Akers kicks 6 extra points and two 40-yard field goals. I win my fantasy league by, like, a gazillion points or so.<br /><br />So, Mr. Mayor, thanks again for being such an all around nice guy in both fantasy and reality.<br /><br /><br />Warmest Possible Regards During This Coldest Possible Weather,<br /><br />- <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mill</span><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/12/handy-homeowner.htmldo it yourselfhandypower toolsMon, 27 Dec 2010 20:14:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-6402199844069540074My wife and I joined the elite, highly-stressed, constantly worried about being foreclosed, risk-taking club of first-time homebuyers about two months ago.<br /><br />At the time, it just seemed to make sense. And I don’t think either one of us regrets the decision (even if I did recently lose my job a few weeks after settlement - which is an entirely different story for an entirely different day.)<br /><br />Ostensibly, we bought a house because we plan to settle down in the neighborhood - and need a bit more space than our 2-bedroom rental could offer. Plus, mortgage rates were historically low, and the entire market has been in the shitter for a couple of years now. I mean really, how much lower could prices possibly fall? Famous last words, I realize.<br /><br />In any case, 2 months in and so far, so good. The house has good bones, as they say. But I wait, vice grips in hand, anxiously anticipating the day when one of those bones breaks.<br /><br />Because for me, buying a house isn’t just about the opportunity to settle down, or build a nest, or have a place for little Mills to roam free and play. It means the chance to become something I’ve never been before. To assume an alter ego of sorts, even more mysterious and alluring than that afforded by a Blogger account.<br /><br />That’s right. I now have the opportunity to prove to the world (my wife) that I am, in fact HANDY. Because this house is great in many ways, but it sure as hell isn’t perfect. And there are enough minor problems - structural, cosmetic, electrical, plumbing, HVAC, creaking doors, out-of-whack windows, and dead or dying plant life - to offer almost unlimited chances to be handy.<br /><br />Why, just the other day I replaced a missing vent in the dining room. Kinda handy.<br /><br />I patched a big-ass hole in the ceiling of the garage. Pretty handy.<br /><br />I resealed the cap flashing on all 5 dormers on the third floor facade, and replaced all the windows with energy-efficient, triple-paned, double-hung Andersen windows. Extremely handy.<br /><br />Of course, this is all incredibly great and you’re probably thinking I’m so super-handy. Except that I’m lying about that last one. We pay professionals to do that kind of shit. In reality, anyone with a screwdriver and some scrap drywall could do what I’ve done. But this is just the beginning of my jaunt down a very handy road. And without a home of our own, I’d never be able to take this journey.<br /><br />I’m sure the trip will include some missteps - that’s why I’m forbidden from undertaking any projects that feature live electrical circuits. There will likely be a hammer blow to this thumb, and a cabinet dropped on that foot. Shoes and shirts will be ruined with paint, and rickety ladders will be used without a spotter. I may even try to get up on the roof through the bathroom skylight, but only when there are no thunderstorms in the area.<br /><br />I hereby pledge to never use a pneumatic nail gun (too many possible horror movie scenarios), and will try my best to avoid the temptations of using a circular saw (I REALLY like having all ten fingers). I promise that I will not fix it if it ain’t broke. And I will keep all of my bits with my drill - if you know what I mean.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>1srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/12/im-lot-like-michael-vick.htmlmichael vickSun, 26 Dec 2010 10:45:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-1953145627735758233We are both in our 30’s.<br />We both (currently) like dogs.<br />We both really like the Eagles.<br />We are approximately the same height.<br />We throw things primarily with our left hands.<br />We run faster than many of the people around us (for him: linemen and linebackers; for me: my wife and my parents).<br />We are both responsibly repaying our debts to creditors (me: $20k in student loans; Vick: $20 million in jewelry, cars, mansions, solid gold toilets, and champagne dreams).<br />We both hate folding our socks and underwear.<br /><br />I’m sure I could go on and on.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/12/ikea-nordic-god-of-frustration.htmlcheap furnitureikeanordic myths and legendsThu, 23 Dec 2010 10:31:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-2238287359375474135Ikea, the bastard offspring of Odin and a giant boar, is a mighty magical being of incredible strength. Ikea has the ability to control the Earth’s tides, as well as the power to turn sawdust and leftover Styrofoam into delicious – and affordable – little meatballs.<br /><br />Just as his cousin Loki is known as a rascal trickster, so too does Ikea play games with the puny, weak-minded humans who worship at his particle-board altar. Many well-known myths demonstrate Ikea’s masterful trickery – but none so famous as “The Tale of the Seventy Misaligned Pre-Drilled Screw Holes.” I will not go into the details of this extraordinary story, as the yarn has been spun thousands of times over the ages – to the horror of children and adults alike.<br /><br />Suffice it to say, Ikea is a brilliant rogue.<br /><br />There is, however, a lesser known Ikea myth which (I believe) merits much greater distribution throughout the Ikea-worshipping world (aka, the internet).<br /><br />Have you heard of the story of “The Shoe Maker and the Furniture Labyrinth”? I thought not. This fable involves one stubborn, silly human – Sven Magnusson – who dares to flout Ikea’s omnipotence, and has the audacity to doubt the great god’s cleverness.<br /><br />As revenge for Sven’s indolence, Ikea tricks him into entering what appears to be a large barn - with the promise of a fantastic collection of magical hex-wrenches. But instead, Sven finds himself wandering through a never-ending maze of furniture, none of which is comfortable enough to sit on for more than 5 minutes at a time. He is relegated to this personal hell for all of eternity, aimlessly browsing well-staged groupings of sleek sofas and chairs, lighting and accessories.<br /><br />But the legend speaks of Sven’s chance for redemption, as described by the Lord Ikea himself:<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">And upon that holy day dost thou finally accept defeat at my hands, I shall allow thy release from this brilliant labyrinthine prison. And only on that day, as it is promised, thou shalt be rewarded with unlimited, sleekly-designed Nordic-style furnishings of every shape and size – so that thou may distribute these gifts to all of mankind, at ridiculously low, low prices.<br /><br />However, in order to get these gifts to pass from this world to the next, most of the items will need to be disassembled. Thou shalt pack them flat for ease of transport. I shall include simple instructions for reassembly, of which thine youngest and simplest child shall translate into all the languages of the world – so that all men may enjoy the value I hath provided, whilst accepting mostly minor difficulties due to shoddy craftsmanship. And all the Earth shall praise my name for ever and ever. And so it is written, and so it shall be. Amen.</span>”<br /><br />The clear morals of the story are “might makes right” and “it’s better to look good than to feel good.” And, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, Sven did indeed make it out of that frightful maze, to fill the world with inexpensive, difficult to assemble furniture.<br /><br />Sven Magnusson, I salute you as I write this - even though my Ikea desk chair just fell apart because it was missing several screws.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/12/ode-to-vick.htmlbeer spillagemichael vickThu, 9 Dec 2010 17:03:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-7845945575623856136Your legs are like jets, your arm is a rocket.<br />Bad Michael Vick - doggie’s tail in a socket.<br />Better Mike Vick – he’s kind and humane.<br />Best Michael Vick – throwing touchdowns like rain.<br /><br />Lurie gave you a chance, Fat Andy did too.<br />One chunky Mormon, one well-dressed Jew.<br />Now you’re together, three peas in a pod.<br />On the NFC East you’ll trample and trod.<br /><br />I remember the game that you played in the cold.<br />And you threw for four touchdowns, let the legend unfold.<br />You ran for two more, and I heard the dogs cheer.<br />I was so goddamn happy, I spilled a whole beer.<br /><br />The problem with that is we have wooden floors.<br />And wood in the walls, and thick wooden doors.<br />With beer seeping in, and without too much time.<br />I couldn’t keep on with the theme of this rhyme.<br /><br />So I leapt to my feet and rushed to the kitchen.<br />Grabbing some towels and warm woolen mittens.<br />The mittens – mistake - I returned them real fast.<br />And grabbed some more towels, what a pain in my ass.<br /><br />I sopped up the beer like a bat out of hell.<br />A little too late, the floorboards did swell.<br />They buckled and broke, and twisted and cracked.<br />My wife’s gonna kill me, I better buy her a present<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="vertical-align: middle; border: 0pt none;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/07/ways-to-cap-gulf-oil-spill.htmlBPgulf oil spillTue, 13 Jul 2010 15:39:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-5525562241144411324If the job was all mine, and thankful it’s not,<br />And BP allowed me to give it a shot,<br />I’d dive down so deep, stuff that billowing pit,<br />With golf balls and golf clubs and all kinds of shit.<br /><br />If that didn’t work, I’d use heavier things.<br />Anvils, and airplanes, and thick leaden rings.<br />It just seems to me if you crammed it all in,<br />There’s no way that oil could soil more fins.<br /><br />I’d pile on tractors and pieces of trash.<br />I’d jam in old cars and cigarette ash.<br />I’m sure before long the flow would slow down.<br />The king of well-plugging, I’d wear the gold crown.<br /><br />And speaking of gold - of course, the black kind.<br />The amount that it’s spewing is blowing my mind.<br />Thousands of gallons of crude every day.<br />The poor, stupid sea life just gets in its way.<br /><br />It’s heading for shore with no visible slowdown.<br />Sea birds, sea monkeys, and fish it will mow down.<br />Covered in goo, like a small newborn child.<br />The slick, you might say, is going buck wild.<br /><br />Subsea dispersants and huge concrete caps.<br />Those fine BP douchebags have still left huge gaps.<br />So back to my plan, how I’d cap that well’s ass.<br />I’d use crazy glue and some balls made of brass.<br /><br />Force it all down there, far out of reach.<br />The oil stays put, we can all hit the beach.<br />And BP will pay for the havoc they wreak.<br />A well clogged with golf balls and dirt will still leak.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/07/king-james-bible-excerpt.htmllebrontraitorFri, 9 Jul 2010 20:58:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-4898413990703561196The river will burn, the people will die.<br />Dogs will run wild, kids will get high.<br />Fans will stay home, the mayor will cry.<br />The Browns will still suck, they won’t even try.<br /><br />The state’s a disaster, they soon will declare.<br />The National Guard by sea and by air.<br />Tax revenues plummet, I don’t really care.<br />I’m not the one living way over there.<br /><br />He’s now in Miami, which has some hot ladies.<br />Which leads to one thing: illegitimate babies.<br />I’m sure before long he’ll come down with scabies.<br />Or maybe his dog will fall victim to rabies.<br /><br />I actually hope that his dog is okay.<br />In South Beach some places are totally gay.<br />Not a thing wrong with that, as I always say.<br />I’ve heard that the Heat provide pretty good pay.<br /><br />So now that it’s over, the decision’s been made.<br />Plans for the future, for one, have been laid.<br />A city in ruins, they wish he had stayed.<br />At least one guy’s happy. His name? Dwyane Wade.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/07/jayson-werths-big-ol-beard.htmlbeardsTue, 6 Jul 2010 00:12:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-6814812875392104825Jayson’s beard has a life of its own.<br />It covers his cheeks, his chin, and jawbone.<br />He usually shaves to keep the team winning.<br />But his beard has grown back before the 5th inning.<br /><br />His coaches get mad when his beard stays out late.<br />Whether drinking, or dancing, or out on a date.<br />But Jayson himself has such little control,<br />Over what his beard does - it has its own soul.<br /><br />You’d think that its name might be Nathan or Nick.<br />Or Oscar, or Reggie, or Wallace, or Rick.<br />Or even Miguel, or Dylan, or Bruce.<br />Well actually, no, its friends call it Zeus.<br /><br />Zeus was a god - the god of them all.<br />Upon Mt. Olympus, a great marble hall.<br />Pillars of granite, and floors solid stone.<br />A lap pool, a hot tub, and of course a huge throne.<br /><br />The mighty of mighties, the all-seeing eyes.<br />Huge big-ass arms, well-muscled thighs.<br />Lightning from Heaven and flames from below.<br />A mortal’s life lost with each thunderbolt throw.<br /><br />His thick thatch of growth, like stone to a mason.<br />Mysteries told, fitful children are chastened.<br />We all know to fear the unknown as from birth.<br />The beard or the man - Is Zeus Jayson Werth?<br /><br />He’s big and he’s strong and throws bolts from the field.<br />His prodigious blasts, as if tree trunks he wields.<br />And back to the beard, whether mortal or not.<br />When it’s 102 on the field, that shit must get hot.<br /><br />Go Phillies!<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>1srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/07/wife-part-1.htmlwifeMon, 5 Jul 2010 22:55:00 -0400tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-627040223973410246pretty<br />lady-like<br />size 9 shoes<br />elastic hairbands<br />low blood pressure<br />expensive handbags<br />enamored of diamonds<br />voted for barack h. obama<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/02/snow-mageddon-2010.htmlblizzardwinter weather advisoryTue, 9 Feb 2010 22:36:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-7728816859928305409(<span style="font-style: italic;">My revised forecast/weather advisory below. This one's gonna be a doozy!</span>)<br /><br /><br />NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE: UPTON, NY<br />10:38 PM EST, TUESDAY FEBRUARY 9, 2010<br /><br />WINTER STORM WARNING<br /><br />A WINTER STORM WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL NEXT CHRISTMAS.<br /><br />SNOW ACCUMULATES LATE THIS EVENING....WITH ACCUMULATIONS OF 2 TO 4 INCHES BY THE MORNING RUSH HOUR. THE SNOW MAY MIX WITH SLEET, ICE, AND ANGEL PISS...PISS MAY BE HEAVY AT TIMES.<br /><br />SNOW WILL CONTINUE THROUGHOUT THE DAY WITH ACCUMULATION RATES OF UP TO 2 INCHES PER HOUR THROUGH MID-AFTERNOON. THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT TIME TO BAKE COOKIES.<br /><br />AS THE STORM INTENSIFIES OFF THE NEW JERSEY COAST AND SOUTHERN LONG ISLAND, A STRONG ANTI-CYCLONIC ACTION WILL CAUSE SUSTAINED CATEGORY FIVE HURRICANE-FORCE WINDS AND FREQUENT GUSTS EASILY EXCEEDING 275 MPH. TO FIND WORSE WEATHER, YOU'LL NEED TO TRAVEL TO THE GREAT RED SPOT ON JUPITER.<br /><br />JUST KIDDING. THE WINDS WILL BE MUCH LESS THAN THAT, BUT YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS OURS, TRUTH BE TOLD.<br /><br />ALONG WITH BLIZZARD CONDITIONS, POWER OUTAGES ARE LIKELY THROUGHOUT THE AREA. IF POWER OUTAGE OCCURS IN YOUR AREA, A GOOD TIP IS TO SOAK SOME RAGS IN KEROSENE AND DUMP THEM IN AN OLD TRASH CAN, THEN SET FIRE TO THE RAGS. ALL OF THIS CAN BE DONE IN YOUR LIVING ROOM TO CREATE BOTH HEAT AND LIGHT. YOU MAY ALSO WANT TO CRACK A WINDOW IN CASE YOUR DOUCHEBAG BROTHER-IN-LAW WHO'S STAYING WITH YOU THIS WEEK FORGOT TO DO SO.<br /><br />A WINTER STORM WARNING MEANS SEVERE WINTER CONDITIONS ARE EXPECTED OR OCCURRING. HEAVY SNOWFALL WILL CAUSE INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS TRAVEL CONDITIONS ON THE ROADWAYS. IF YOU DECIDE TO DRIVE, YOU WILL PROBABLY DIE. HEED OUR WARNING. ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO DISREGARD THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE. WE ARE GOD'S MOUTHPIECE. WORD TO YOUR MOTHER.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/01/ipad-when-and-why-will-i-get-one.htmlAppleiPadSteve JobsThu, 28 Jan 2010 22:18:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-3684249281495183520How is Steve Jobs going to convince me to buy an iPad? I know it’s going to happen, but how the hell is he going to do it? I can’t quite figure it out just yet.<br /><br />It’s as if I committed a robbery, and I forgot to get the surveillance tape. I know the cops are looking at it, and they’ll be able to track me down quickly because of my unusual gait and distinctive style of dress - just ask around town. It’s only a question of when they’ll find me.<br /><br />And so I wait for the knock on the door, “Mr. Mill, please open up. It’s the police. As soon as you open the door we will taser you regardless of whether you resist us. We will also most likely sodomize you with a baton.”<br /><br />So I sit on the sofa and wait for my door to be busted down, and my ass to be tasered and/or batoned.<br /><br />In many ways, this is what I’m waiting for Steve Jobs and the Apple Gestapo to do. Except they’ll be gentler. But also much more expensive.<br /><br />“You have the right to remain silent. You also have the right to pay for your new iPad with Visa, Mastercard, or American Express. Hell, we even accept Discover!!”<br /><br />So it’s going to happen. It’s only a matter of time. But let’s be honest: the thing looks like a giant, joke iPhone. Now, I think giant, joke everyday items are as hilarious as all get-out, but would I spend upwards of $600 to get one? Maybe for a giant, joke gold watch, or a giant, joke plasma TV. But do I really need a giant, joke cell phone in order to check my email and download movies, music, and eBooks?<br /><br />The answer, of course, is yes. The logic, however, is not so patently obvious.<br /><br />Why do I need the iPad? Maybe it will repel unsavory women, now that I’m married. Perhaps it will keep me from being bored, and thus prevent me from drunk eBaying.<br /><br />Steve Jobs says it’s the best way to surf the internet, and when you watch movies or TV shows (downloaded only from iTunes, of course) it’s like sticking an HDTV right in your stupid Apple-loving face.<br /><br />This all sounds great to me, and I’m already much closer to being convinced. My wallet’s out. It’s on the table. I can see one of several valid credit cards from here. If only it was 60 days from now, I’d actually be able to buy one.<br /><br />Does the iPad also feature a Time Machine function? If so, I’ll buy one last week.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>2srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/01/hawaii-honeymoon-review-part-1-visit-to.htmlfire goddess pelehawaiihoneymoonkilaueaTue, 26 Jan 2010 21:37:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-4128635536318385588<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-KmqsDMZrBzX13lxbr5-WFzXiQ_vSk0nNT55TCfaqlAoSw9hPuHNjaQVNU7tJZz3L6EZ2D8oiTYBXhe2mQYCqHRkTMF6Mj2e8Nh-5ljQjYuRrT2EDxfFddzBcV1QJRTFsKQo/s1600-h/jeep.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-KmqsDMZrBzX13lxbr5-WFzXiQ_vSk0nNT55TCfaqlAoSw9hPuHNjaQVNU7tJZz3L6EZ2D8oiTYBXhe2mQYCqHRkTMF6Mj2e8Nh-5ljQjYuRrT2EDxfFddzBcV1QJRTFsKQo/s400/jeep.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431243801325114994" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Our rental jeep. Operative word being "rental." Perfect for trying to drive through blindingly-hot lava.</span><br /></div><br /><br />Sure, Hawaii is a beautiful place. Lush, tropical forests greener than the greenest country club golf course. Crystal clear waters, teeming with ocean life – and just a little bit of medical waste here and there. Soaring mountains and majestic canyons.<br /><br />Going into it, we knew we’d see some pretty cool nature-type shit. And we did.<br /><br />But we also expected one of the highlights would be our visit to Kilauea on the Big Island Hawaii – perhaps the most active volcano on the planet. Maybe the most active in the whole goddamn galaxy. It’s basically been continuously erupting since 1983.<br /><br />Seriously. It’s crazy.<br /><br />That mountain belches millions and millions of tons of red-hot lava every year. I wanted to see that lava up close. Witness the miracle of birth – of new rock, fresh from Mother Earth’s blazing hot uterus – firsthand. Feel the heat on my face, and the crunch of freshly cooled magma under my boot heel.<br /><br />Also, I wanted to see if I could dip my pinky in there for just a second. Come on – how hot could it really be? And I bet it tastes like cherry Jolly Ranchers. Or maybe cinnamon Bubble Tape.<br /><br />Well guess what? We get to the stupid volcano only to learn that the stupid lava stopped flowing the day before.<br /><br />We did get to take a great hike across the Kilauea Iki crater, and traipse across some months old lava on the southeastern edge of the island. But nothing even remotely red-hot and flowing was anywhere to be found.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZMkNmxBCRX6Ip_CVK18v88DApuCnq1h-JbuH55YnIxXUYCfTJUJtvIg3MScLkxnC82Rl8yqbggY8FXyfgP7Axou94Dwr1RoKGRf_Uz8iQOpnfwdU7e3LiwferImjK9FPtG9q/s1600-h/crater1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZMkNmxBCRX6Ip_CVK18v88DApuCnq1h-JbuH55YnIxXUYCfTJUJtvIg3MScLkxnC82Rl8yqbggY8FXyfgP7Axou94Dwr1RoKGRf_Uz8iQOpnfwdU7e3LiwferImjK9FPtG9q/s400/crater1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431243796086028098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Gazing across the moonscape of Kilauea Iki crater. Kinda looks like a huge, shitty, abandoned parking lot.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVRuGUTwYrkCWpbXg8ckyedVUXW3kz2wkkV1OgCL9ewJXzXdhbqIWS1tlGr1KKgLT_2ROrU9EhE8iRINuY3BPlEtuhFmNqFFJpl5TO7bti4pjtcAbU-zVm8__wza37o3A6Sp-/s1600-h/lavadanger.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDVRuGUTwYrkCWpbXg8ckyedVUXW3kz2wkkV1OgCL9ewJXzXdhbqIWS1tlGr1KKgLT_2ROrU9EhE8iRINuY3BPlEtuhFmNqFFJpl5TO7bti4pjtcAbU-zVm8__wza37o3A6Sp-/s400/lavadanger.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431243797799711266" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Lava shelf on southeastern edge of the island. Danger: 85-degree, year-old lava ahead, below, and all around.</span><br /></div><br /><br />Across five-thousand miles, and through five time zones we traveled. All we wanted was a little live lava action. And what do we get? Zilch.<br /><br />The fire goddess Pele is a stupid bitch. No offense to any Hawaiian polytheists out there. It’s just that I’m disappointed we didn’t see any lava.<br /><br />And Pele, if you’re reading this post (not sure fire goddesses can even read), hopefully it will anger you enough to put on a nice lava show for the current tourists.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>2srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/01/revelation-on-traffic.htmlfucking BQElosttrafficThu, 21 Jan 2010 21:29:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-5340584263153955847I’ve always marveled at the magic of New York City traffic. It’s mysterious, unexplainable, and infuriating.<br /><br />I should know. I spend at least 2-3 hours each day in the thick of it.<br /><br />Every time I try to shed light on its secrets, a new twist emerges. When I least expect it – wide open highway. At 2am on a Tuesday – bumper to bumper gridlock.<br /><br />Traffic knows not reason nor logic. Traffic knows not what it does to me.<br /><br />Traffic, why dost thou mock me? Why hath thou repeatedly bitch-slappethed me?<br /><br />Something else I’ve consciously noticed just this week, but had subconsciously occurred to me long ago: Invariably, whenever it’s clear sailing most of the way home, and it looks like I’ll be back in record time, I hit the worst traffic I’ve ever seen. Sometimes an hour to travel the last 5 miles of my commute.<br /><br />Fucking BQE.<br /><br />But there’s really only one explanation. And it ties in directly with an upcoming event, on February 2nd of this year. No, I’m not referring to my friend Alex’s birthday, although I wish him the best for his big 3-4.<br /><br />I’m referring to the season premiere of “Lost.” And it’s taken until now - the show’s final season - for me to piece the puzzle together.<br /><br />It’s all about me. It’s all about traffic.<br /><br />The Island won’t let me get home in less than one hour and twenty minutes.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2010/01/im-back-from-honeymoon.htmldowryhoneymoonweddingMon, 18 Jan 2010 23:59:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-7127292488440739573Back from the Honeymoon, with a whole lot to write about. Here are just a few things you can expect to hear about during the upcoming days and weeks:<br /><br />1) I have observations from Hawaii - our honeymoon destination. It’s the most remote island chain in the world. Yet, you can easily find Costco, Burger King, and Macaroni Grill. But Hawaii is so much more than strip malls in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. More to follow on this.<br /><br />2) Wedding facts and figures – it all went off without a hitch. I can tell it actually happened because I got some kind of metal circle around my finger now. The damn thing won’t come off, no matter how hard I try. I’ve used soap, butter, and lasers – but to no avail.<br /><br />3) Sports scores and predictions – the Eagles will NOT win the Super Bowl this year.<br /><br />4) Recipes and fashion tips. I learned a lot from my wife over the past 2 weeks - being that we pretty much didn’t interact with anyone else during that time. Like how to crochet, and which shoe designers are the hottest this season.<br /><br />5) What it’s like to be married!!! It’s pretty cool so far. I own her, and I’m waiting for the dowry to arrive by freight train – 40 head of sheep, 2 dozen goats, and 500 cubits of papyrus<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>3srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/12/arlen-and-brett-go-jeans-shopping.htmlfavrejeansSpecterMon, 28 Dec 2009 20:02:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-4291831703643678875(<span style="font-style: italic;">Here's a little story I wrote about a couple of honest-to-goodness American heroes - Brett Favre and Arlen Specter. It's purely speculation, but who knows? The two of them could some day be best friends</span>.)<br /><br /><br /><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> Arlen needed new jeans. His wife was a real pain in the ass to shop with. Who else was there? Maybe Joe? He did live nearby. But a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him like hot bus exhaust - the mere thought of spending an afternoon with Joe. The constant effort on Arlen's part to appear even slightly interested. The endless, rambling, inane monologues. The incessant nose picking. The butt slaps. The unnecessary high-fives. No, it couldn't be Joe.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> Arlen flipped through his Rolodex, now almost as thin as the fine wisps of hair that still lived on his head. After Biden there was Clinton. He immediately flipped to the next card. The Rolodex went right from C to F, without stopping for a Durbin or an Edwards. Upon seeing the next name, Arlen cracked his first smile of the day. This could work, he thought. This could be fun. It was almost two in the afternoon.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">And so it was that Arlen's people spoke to Brett's people, and arranged a little play date between two real American heroes.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">It made a heck of a lot of sense, thought Arlen. After all, they had so much in common: a singularly understated fashion sense (comfortable, good value, American-made), legions of adoring fans, and - from first glance - they had maintained virtually the same waistline since college. Brett probably just thought it would be cool to hang out with a "real-life, living, honest-to-real Washington senator."</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Arlen was especially proud of his figure. His jowls had always betrayed his rock-hard abs and coconut-cracking thighs. It was frustrating to admit, but one of his life's great lessons was that no amount of time on the Stairmaster could get rid of those jowls. He repeatedly mentioned this to his grandkids - not to scare them, but rather, to teach them the importance of using facial-firming creams from a young age.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">It was no secret that Arlen had been through a recent rough spell - an identity crisis of sorts - and desperately needed a pick-me-up. It had been nearly 16 years since he had purchased a new pair of blue jeans, and apparently, that’s what Democrats wear on the weekends. And what better way to soothe the soul of a lifelong politician than a trip to the mall, to bear witness to the engine of America's economy in action - the middle-class, credit-card-wielding consumer. It would afford him the chance to mingle with these commoners for a short time. To allow their rough hands to press against his soft, politico palms for a fleeting moment. To let their eyes linger on his famous jowls - his center of strength, his rock, his redeemer. Think Samson's hair, except instead of hair, they were made of loose skin.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Also, there was a big denim sale at J.C. Penney, and Arlen had a coupon for an additional 15% off.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Brett, on the other hand, had plenty of jeans. He had received a lifetime supply of Wranglers as the majority portion of his endorsement deal. In exchange for his proclaiming them the "Official Jeans of Brett Favre," the former NFL MVP had literally received an 18-wheeler full of his favorite styles. For many, many years, he exclusively wore the straight leg boot-cut, but had since moved on to a slim fit – the better to accentuate his “Mississippi Dumptruck,” as he liked to call it.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Arlen had no dumptruck to speak of – Pennsylvania, or otherwise. And, at least in his own mind, he was not the kind of guy to show off that kind of thing anyway. He was more concerned with healthcare reform and the war in Afghanistan. A five-term Senator has greater things to worry about than the seat of his pants, even though he spent much of the last year and a half trying to protect it.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">As Arlen's limo pulled into the mall's passenger drop-off zone, he saw an interracial couple eating ice cream. He suddenly remembered it was time to send his daily text message to Obama. Give him a little reminder whose side he was on now.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">“Barry, just a little shout out to remind you I still like abortion. Give Bo a kiss and a belly rub for me. Catch ya later – Specs.”</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Arlen let out an audible sigh as he hit the send button. You gotta do what you gotta do, he thought.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">The schedule was simple. They would meet at J.C. Penney at 4pm to check out the denim super sale. After that, who knows? Arlen planned to try on ten pairs of jeans, and purchase five - regardless of whether they fit. That was his game plan, and he was sticking to it. No one would accuse him of waffling on this day.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">When Arlen arrived, Brett was already signing autographs. He approached the world-class athlete with outstretched hand, slightly damp, and a genuine smile on his face. Brett looked up, just as he was about to gingerly sign an infant's forehead. The grin was now mutual. He returned the baby and the pen to the starstruck parents, and grasped Arlen's hand warmly. Brett's handshake said "how's it goin'," "good to see you," and "I won three consecutive MVP awards," all at once. Arlen swooned as much as his 79 year-old knees would let him. He didn't expect to feel this way. Why did he now sense such a powerful connection to this man? This Minnesota Viking who had once been a Packer. It was all so mysterious and wonderful.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Brett led the way to the men's denim section, and quickly yet confidently picked out an armful of slim fits and bootcuts - without even asking for a size. He handed them to Arlen and went back to the racks to continue his search. For a spokesman and celebrity, Brett was remarkably quiet. Truly a man of action if there ever was one. Without words, the All-Pro quarterback conveyed the message, "I'm an expert when it comes to men's jeans."<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Arlen knew he had stopped on the right Rolodex card. Furthermore, Brett would probably get incredible friends and family discounts on any Wrangler products. These jeans will be virtually free, thought Arlen. And it's all thanks to Brett.<br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0pt;"><br /></p><span style="font-family:'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-size:100%;">Arlen smiled again. It was the third time that day. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>2srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/12/dont-worry-im-still-alive-dear-readers.htmlapologyMon, 21 Dec 2009 22:11:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-1084347136096891675Yeah, so maybe I haven't written in quite a while. Well, let me tell you something - I didn't get one goddamn complaint about my lack of motivation. Not a single word, uttered or typed, from any of my fan and/or fans.<br /><br />This proves one thing, and one thing only. You were too upset, too distraught to say anything at all. Visiting this blog every day, and not seeing any new posts must wear on a human - much like expecting a treat only to realize that there's nothing in your master's hand must wear on a dog.<br /><br />That's the kind of thing that can drive a dog to madness. And the same must be true of blog readers. Especially my reader and/or readers.<br /><br />So please don't go totally mental. I'm still around. Still alive. Still rocking and rolling like a teenager who just found his parents huge secret stash of cocaine and heroin.<br /><br />In other words, I'm ready to take that proverbial stash and alert the authorities. Even though they're my parents, they shouldn't have anything to do with illegal drugs. Drugs can kill. Especially if someone hits you over the head with a big bag of drugs and then runs you over with their car. That shit will kill you.<br /><br />I have lots of cool stuff to write about in the near future. I'm getting married in less than 2 weeks for God's sake!! That's worth at least acouple of posts. I need to tell you all about the ceremony, and the flower arrangements, and the bridesmaid dresses. You need to hear about the passed hors' douvres, and the hot and cold appetizers. You must learn about the tablecloths - they will be ivory, not simply white!<br /><br />Anyway, I'll try to be better about writing. Sorry for the lengthy radio silence.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>3srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/11/pigs-allegedly-smarter-than-they-look.htmlbaconpig intelligenceTue, 10 Nov 2009 21:39:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-5388098947820046533A recent <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/10/science/10angier.html?_r=1&amp;em">article</a> in the New York Times describes some recent experiments that show pig intelligence may be greater than we had ever imagined. According to the article, pigs may be as smart as monkeys and dolphins.<br /><br />The only problem for pigs – and it’s a very serious one – is that they are FAR more delicious than monkeys or dolphins.<br /><br />Now, to be fair, I’ve never eaten monkey or dolphin, and I’m not interested in trying. Monkeys look a little too much like people. Dolphins are basically swimming dogs. I would feel pretty bad about eating either of them.<br /><br />But pigs make bacon, and bacon is awesome. So my question is:<br /><br />How could something so smart make itself so goddamn delicious?<br /><br />Bacon, ham, pork shoulder, pork rinds, shredded BBQ pork, sweet ‘n sour pork, moo shu pork, pork sausages. The list goes on and on. And on.<br /><br />And on.<br /><br />Piggies are tasty.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mZXv-Pixjq2nSx-6OOEbYuZZ6-O13QF2conP54bG3Va-vbN_Qnjfrkt1StB8J_4BCXb6RY77-sda4mAYVNI1mnwQ-W5Uv_eJO-gDdX4NeaKSWy1M49gRPFgN6Mdd07OrczEf/s1600-h/cute+pig.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3mZXv-Pixjq2nSx-6OOEbYuZZ6-O13QF2conP54bG3Va-vbN_Qnjfrkt1StB8J_4BCXb6RY77-sda4mAYVNI1mnwQ-W5Uv_eJO-gDdX4NeaKSWy1M49gRPFgN6Mdd07OrczEf/s400/cute+pig.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402670862488133474" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Whose idea was it to have bacon as part of your body? Not a smart move Mr. Piggy.</span><br /></div><br /><br />On one hand, it’s a brilliant move. They have made themselves a highly desirable species of livestock. We feed and raise millions and millions of pigs a year. But on the other hand, it’s incredibly, indescribably, hopelessly stupid.<br /><br />We eat millions and millions of them every month of every year.<br /><br />Now as far as intelligent animals are concerned, monkeys and dolphins are not quite so lovable as to be very popular pets. And so they’re forced to struggle for survival out in the wild – with no manmade coats to wear during the winter, and no manmade treats to eat when they behave well or do something cute. Dogs, have the manmade coats and the crunchy treats, but they’re still widely considered a delicacy in some parts of the world – apparently, they’re not lovable enough not to eat.<br /><br />Sorry doggies. Apparently you need to evolve to be just a little less delicious.<br /><br />And so I’d argue that cats are the smartest animals around. We keep them as pets, and nobody - I mean nobody - wants to eat them. Although they probably taste like chicken.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_4wqWLOsQT1laCOdwCxuEfXXh8Xpyq9Z6Na3plggEZ36iGVXILobrwSQmF9fa-Cc7Y0NJz4P60ABL9NJrjCEDkcd7SCne52ldilSvPNFK0b9SnOQBWvTgNp00G-sGLumAIg7/s1600-h/little_cute_kitty_pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 396px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_4wqWLOsQT1laCOdwCxuEfXXh8Xpyq9Z6Na3plggEZ36iGVXILobrwSQmF9fa-Cc7Y0NJz4P60ABL9NJrjCEDkcd7SCne52ldilSvPNFK0b9SnOQBWvTgNp00G-sGLumAIg7/s400/little_cute_kitty_pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402670869294968930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Very cute. Not at all tasty.</span><br /><br /></div><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>4srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/11/live-blogging-2009-world-series-game-6_3085.htmllive bloggingPhilllies World Series 2009Wed, 4 Nov 2009 23:15:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-229058741689662257211:15pm: Shit. Mariano Rivera is coming in to the game. I believe that if we, as a species, put a man on the moon, then we can also will the Phillies to score some runs against Rivera. It's a long shot, but no longer than the odds of winning Powerball.<br /><br />11:17pm: I am afraid. I am very afraid. Rivera looks good, with that silky-smooth delivery and wicked cut fastball. The man can flat out pitch, and the Phillies are quickly running out of at-bats. I will quickly fashion a Mariano Rivera voodoo doll and see if it does anything. We'll know soon enough.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/11/live-blogging-2009-world-series-game-6_04.htmllive bloggingPhilllies World Series 2009Wed, 4 Nov 2009 22:16:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-809572507882621586210:02pm: My Matsui voodoo doll has had both arms amputated, and has safety pins jammed into where the real Matsui's eyes would be. And yet, he still smoked a 2-run double for his 5th and 6th RBI's of the night. I'm beginning to think that voodoo is bullshit.<br /><br />10:10pm: Well, finally something good happened for the Phils. Ryan Howard's bat awoke with a mighty, muscly mash to left field. It barely cleared the fence, but a home run is a home run, as I always say. Phillies now trail 7-3. Anything's possible. This one is far from over. Although I would kinda like to go to bed soon. I'm getting sleepy.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/11/live-blogging-2009-world-series-game-6.htmllive bloggingPhilllies World Series 2009Wed, 4 Nov 2009 21:10:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-36409964368598387319:05pm: Pedro looks like shit. I'm very angry. He's given up 4 runs so far, and he's throwing like Betty White - i.e., an 85 mph fastball. Ms. White throws hard for her age.<br /><br />9:10pm: Phillies get out of the inning after only giving up those 2 runs. Matsui is his new nemesis. I'm preparing a Hideki Matsui voodoo doll with my right hand as I type with my left hand.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)http://www.iamthemill.com/2009/11/sports-day.htmlnew york city marathonphiladelphia eaglesPhilllies World Series 2009Sun, 1 Nov 2009 18:05:00 -0500tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34307769.post-6006731916459378361Today is Sports Day.<br /><br />Sports Day is celebrated when Jupiter aligns with Pluto, the Gulf Stream reverses course for 24 hours, and/or a whole bunch of important sporting events occur on the same day. Generally, it happens once every 76 years, much like the arrival of Halley’s Comet.<br /><br />Check out this crazy line up:<br /><br />8:20am until whenever the slowest guy finishes: The New York City Marathon, sponsored by Goldman Sachs and your tax dollars. Or something like that. My money is on the Kenyans.<br /><br />1pm: Eagles vs. Giants in Philly. It’s a battle for the NFC East between two bitter rivals. These teams hate each other so much, they spit on one another’s pets’ graves.<br /><br />4:15pm: Brett Favre returns to Green Bay for the first time – as a member of the archrival Vikings. The Packers had to muster up extra security, presumably in the event that the fans try to murder Favre. Treason is still a capital crime, after all.<br /><br />7:57pm and 33 seconds: World Series Game 4. The Phightin’ Phils battle the Bronx Assholes, er, I mean Douchebags. Oops…That’s not right either. Okay, I just checked on the internet, and they’re known as the Bronx Bombers. Anyway, if the Phillies can grab a victory, they’ll even the series 2-2. If not, they’re in deep shit. My prediction? A-Rod strikes out 4 times – twice with the bases loaded and 2 out. Sabathia looks tired by the 3rd inning, giving up back-to-back-to-back homers to the murderer’s row of Utley, Howard, and Werth. Also, Joe Blanton steals 3 bases – the first 3 of his career. Fat pitchers don’t steal too many bases, and that’s why he’ll catch the Yankees completely off guard.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbz4rqCHSfrnT_P9REJndC_8noqsiJCVW-ex3O0YbO0FmalINiaR9GupRrqpHvveK3fxe9eI1CTGktWQZ5k40sczhns17CrIpToag2zk_Nyk_oPbuJQ3AzvaExDM_b-rRFyE_/s1600-h/blanton.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbz4rqCHSfrnT_P9REJndC_8noqsiJCVW-ex3O0YbO0FmalINiaR9GupRrqpHvveK3fxe9eI1CTGktWQZ5k40sczhns17CrIpToag2zk_Nyk_oPbuJQ3AzvaExDM_b-rRFyE_/s400/blanton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399275331016506114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Joe Blanton: Used to throwing a baseball hard with his arm. Not used to running fast with his legs.</span><br /></div><br /><br />So with all these sports going on, how do I find time to write? Halftime, and commercial breaks mostly. But in adishun to that, I save tyme by skipin the spull checker and gramer looker at thing<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml"><img src="http://www.feedburner.com/fb/images/pub/feed-icon16x16.png" alt="" style="border: 0pt none ; vertical-align: middle;" /></a> <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/IAmTheMill" rel="alternate" type="application/rss+xml">Subscribe to my sweet feed</a></p>0srathmill@gmail.com (The Mill)