Pedro will be devastated

I swear I could just make this a non-stop stream of YouTube videos, and I’d have enough content to fill 3 blogs. Seeing as how I can barely manage to update this one, I’ll stick with one for now.

Today, I would like you to meet two new friends of WPU. I don’t know their names, and neither does anyone else. We’ll call the one on the left “Napoleon Dynamite”, because even though he’s hiding his face in an unsurprising act of cowardice, it sure does sound like him. We’ll call the one on the right “White Trash Will Leitch”, because of the Cardinals hat.

Oh, man. It’s only a minute and four seconds, but got enough awesome in it for at least 5 minutes. First, I like that they’re filming in the kitchen, with a crock pot directly behind them. We all know what goes best with dunderheaded racist bloviating: The hearty smell of simmering beef stew!

Then he mentions “dirty immigrants taking the white man’s job”. I knew the economy was in bad shape, but it’s really entered a new dimension when there’s only one job left. You better polish up your resume, because you’re going to be competing against everyone for “the job”. I mean, I have a lot of experience in some different fields, but I just don’t know if I’m as qualified as, say, Barack Obama….Noam Chomsky might also have the inside track. What about Google founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin? All the Supreme Court Justices have solid resumes, too. I think I’m going to go to my trump card: The glossy cover letter.

Also, I like how Nappy-D is obviously reading from a script, but still uses interjections like “freaking” and “fucking” to hammer home his points. Did he write those in there, or was that just some grade A ad lib?

That was classic, though. It’s just too bad we’ll never find another pair of individuals as classy,charismatic, and brave as these two guys that form NAZI NATION

OHHHH SNAP! HOLD UP! We haven’t heard from ARYAN AUTHORITY yet:

I don’t know which tag-team I like more. NAZI NATION? ARYAN AUTHORITY? NAZI NATION? ARYAN AUTHORITY? It’s like choosing which testicle I’d rather lose! I love them both!

Heyyyyy..waiiiit a second. These “Aryan Authority” guys look familiar. Well, fuck me sideways! Aryan Authority IS Nazi Nation! Finkle is Einhorn! Einhorn is Finkle!

I see what you did there. You switch sides, and the name of your lonely, retarded friendship changes.

I’ve got nothing more to say about these guys. It’s not fair. It’s like picking on the severely handicapped.


UPDATE: I tried searching for these videos again because I wanted to make a YouTube comment on each of them (and I did…check them out), but I couldn’t find them. I especially couldn’t find the “Aryan Authority” one. Why? Because both their Youtube username and video title are spelled “Ayran” Authority. What the fuck is an Ayran? Morons. Master race my ass.


The boy who loved Barry Bonds

It all started in a hotel room when I was 9. My dad and I were winding down the night and watching SportsCenter. Next to the head of one of the anchorpeople sat an image of Barry Bonds with a superimposed Giants cap on. Barry Bonds had just officially ended his tenure with the Pittsburgh Pirates, and was going to get paid an astronomical amount of money to play with my favorite team.

A lot of time has passed since that night, and a lot of events have transpired, but for me, the biggest thing that has happened is that Barry Bonds singlehandedly made baseball my favorite sport, and the Giants my favorite team.

When you’re a child, and a dedicated sports fan, the sports take on much importance than when you’re an adult. You really don’t have too many things to worry about. When the 49ers or Giants would lose, it would render me inconsolable. Likewise, when they would win, it filled me an exceptional feeling of hope and pride. Everything in the world was going to be just fine.

Barry Bonds provided me with so many of those moments, that I feel forever indebted to him. For many years, I went to a private school 25 miles away from my house. My mom would drive me there, go to work at the housecleaning business she owned, and then come to the school and detail the preschool rooms, teacher’s lounge, and office, in exchange for having the tuition waived. One morning, she was riding in the passenger seat of her Plymouth workvan, while my stepdad was driving. At one point, she looked out of her window, and gave an “ok” sign. I looked out and saw none other than Barry Bonds, with his very young daughter, in his custom-built Porsche. My mom didn’t know who he was, she was just giving him kudos for the car. I immediately lost all of my sanity, and began waving and screaming my adoration. Barry saw the fluttering mass that was my tiny body, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up.

If Barry Bonds was, and had turned out to be just a decent player, I still would have remembered it forever. Barry Bonds didn’t turn out to be just a decent player. Barry Bonds turned out to be a deity in cleats, at least for me, and many, many Giants fans.

Obviously, when anyone mentions the name Barry Bonds now, the first thing that comes up is “steroids”. I went through a few phases during the whole Balco scandal. First was denial. “Barry Bonds is just a great baseball player, he’s never tested positive, and all of you are jealous that he’s ours!”

Second was acceptance. “Yeah, Barry probably did steroids, but he’s still a great baseball player, and all of you are jealous that he’s ours!”

Third was deliverance. A string of discoveries made it clear that steroid abuse was rampant in baseball allowed for some vindication. “Yeah, Barry might have done steroids, but so was most everyone else, but nobody else came close to what Barry accomplished. I’m forgetting something else. Oh, and all of you are jealous that he’s ours!”

Barry Bonds could always hit a baseball. He may have hit more baseballs further with the help of the cream and the clear, but Barry Bonds was quite simply an amazing player. His patience, eye, and ability to guess what was coming was mind-bendingly good. In a game where even the best hitters don’t reach base 60% of the time, Bonds was getting on base over half the time. Pitchers didn’t want any part of him, and when they did, they actually didn’t, because there was a good chance they were going to pay a large price.

Today, I thought about the reality that I’m never going to see Barry Bonds play baseball again, and it crushed me. It’s impossible to feel like you truly appreciated something once it’s gone.

The most painful part about it is that I’m positive I will never get to watch another player on the Giants that was as good, and as exciting as Barry Bonds. Every time he was to due up the next inning at home, the crowd would wait to go get their $8 beer. It was 3 or 4 must see events in every game. When I’d watch the Giants play road games, I loved to hear the cascade of boos coming from the stands. Those fans have hated Bonds, but at least he gave them melodrama. The next best thing from a loveable hero is a hated villain, because a hated villain brings out passion. Bonds had everything going for him to be an ultimate villain:

1)He was the best.

2)People thought he was a bad teammate, just an asshole person.

3)He was seen as a cheater.

I can’t think of a more complete villain. Yet, I have adored him from the time I saw him on SportsCenter with the digital Giants cap, to the time I publish this little piece of fluff.

Barry Bonds, you have given me more joy than anybody else, and for that, Sir, I salute you.

Next on Tyra: The cast of Family Ties

┬áTyra Winfrey Banks has a talk show. It might be canceled by now, or it might not be. I really don’t know, as I don’t find supermodels complaining to be entertainment.

I kind of feel like taking the horns out of my nose and the plates out of my lip now. I didn’t know they made people uncomfortable.