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“I recommend…the passage of legislation…to legalize the manufacture and sale of beer”—President Franklin D. Roosevelt

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all-ages…I hope you’re ready to crack open a cold one, because today marks 80 years since the first New Beer’s Eve.

What is New Beer’s Eve you ask?

Well by golly, let me tell you…

In 1933, Prohibition was on its way out and everyone knew it. President Roosevelt had made it one of his missions to repeal Prohibition and start pumping money back into the economy, because—as it turns out—people really like to drink and they’ll gladly throw their money away to do so.

Although Prohibition wouldn’t be officially repealed until December 5 (my birthday!) of that year, the Cullen-Harrison Act was signed into law by FDR on March 23, 1933. The Cullen-Harrison Act allowed for the legal sale of beer (with a 3.2% or lower alcohol content).

Political red tape being what it is, there was an undoubtedly agonizing 15 day wait between Roosevelt putting paper to pen and the Cullen-Harrison Act going into effect.

13 Godforsaken Years!

That meant that at the stroke of midnight on April 7, 1933 people could legal purchase beer for the first time in 13 years.

Naturally, peeps were pretty stoked about this. In anticipation, people lined up in the streets waiting outside of pubs and breweries and prepared to get their hands on some sweet, sweet watery beer.

As such, the sixth of April has come to be known as New Beer’s Eve.

Once midnight rolled around those people who had been hanging in the streets descended upon their local watering holes and ran most of them dry by noon the next day. Gotta love what people can accomplish when they put their whole heart (and liver) into something.

As it turned out, Roosevelt’s plan to get the money flowing worked out pretty well. By simply making crappy light beer available to the masses he was able to pump $25 million into the economy in 48 hours. It turns out people really like beer.

And I think that’s the morale of today’s story: people really like beer and they should enjoy it!

You don’t need to wait until midnight friends, thanks to FDR, you can have a beer right now (unless you’re underage or have a drinking problem—in which case, you should probably find some different reading material) and I highly recommend that you do!!

Raise a pint, can, bottle, or other beverage vessel of your choosing to President Roosevelt tonight and have a Happy New Beer’s Eve!!

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I’ve been a bad blogger.

Since my whirlwind month last fall—wherein I got promoted and engaged and my life sorta started spinning at a new speed—I’ve been kind of awful at posting. I made a valiant effort to get back on it in January, but have fallen off the grid since then.

Admittedly, I’m just super busy at work and outside of work right now and although I want to blog, it seems to be the last thing I can get myself to do. Everything I write seems boring or pointless, so I don’t post it or I delete it or I don’t even get around to doing anything beyond coming up with the idea.

I’m hoping to curb that a bit by forcing myself to post some of the random, seemingly boring and pointless crap that actually makes the (now all-too-rare) transition from my brain onto a computer.

I don’t foresee me getting any less busy anytime soon, but I’m hoping to get back to producing at least a handful of posts every month rather than absolutely nothing for the two or three people who may still be checking this site every so often.

As always, if you find you can’t stand going a day without my asinine commentary, you can always Follow Me on Twitter…for like an hour, until you’re sick and tired of getting updates about WrestleMania or Zooey Deschanel’s hair every thirty seconds.

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Jennnifer Aniston, y’all.

The Greatest of All Time.

She’s 44-years-old and is still a complete, unadulterated smokeshow.

If she’s gonna keep showing up to events looking like this she’s going to hold down the number one slot on my Celebrity Cheat List for all of eternity.

Peep more photos of her red carpet appearance at the Oscars at any of the following locations: Daily Mail, Huffington Post, Celebuzz, and finally My Imagination.

You know, unless you’re reading this on Monday after the Oscars, in which case, the photos are probably everywhere…so just proceed as normal. I’ll be over here drooling over Ms. Aniston.

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Facebook is trying to get me dumped.

Who in their right mind is going to click the random “Send Strawberries” button that appears at the top of the Facebook page?

Only a raging lunatic is going to make that move.

There’s desperation and then there’s DESPERATION and that’s the point you’ve got to be at with your Valentine’s Day gift-giving if you think that sending strawberries at four’o'clock in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day is a good idea.

Where the hell are these strawberries coming from?

Are there just magic internet strawberry fields somewhere? Is this the same people who do Edible Arrangements? Did Mark Zuckerberg grow ‘em himself? I bet he did, that sneaky sumbitch. Always looking to diversify. First it was Facebook. Then it was adding the Wall. Then it was the News Feed. Then it was the chat function. Now it’s all about internet fruit sales. You’re crafty, Mark!

Anyway, long-story-short, Facebook is trying to get me dumped by duping me into sending sketchy internet strawberries late in the day on Valentine’s.

This is just straight-up lunacy and I will not have it!

Better luck next time, Zuckerberg.

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I freakin’ love Girl Scout Cookies.

This is no secret to My Faithful Readers as, just one year ago, I pleaded with all y’all to help me hunt down a few overpriced boxes of bliss when those khaki-clad cookie pushers were doing their damndest to earn a merit badge in “staying the hell away from the Midwestern guy with the crazy eyes.”

One year later, I return with a similar request.

Although this time around, I’m stepping it up a notch. I don’t just need you to help me find cookies anymore.

Today, I’m asking you to help me get my grubby little mitts on the elusive “Girl Scout Thin Mints® Cupcake” from Crumbs Bake Shop.

What is the “Girl Scout Thin Mints® Cupcake” from Crumbs Bake Shop, you ask?!

Well, by golly, let’s go to the experts to find out.

Peep the Crumbs Bake Shop website for the official description:

Devil’s food cake filled with fudge and topped with mint cream cheese frosting edged in chocolate cake crumbs with a Girl Scout Thin Mints® cookie in the center.

That’s right folks, in honor of last Friday’s National Girl Scout Cookie Day, the inevitable Nobel Prize winners at Crumbs have officially created a cupcake made with friggin’ Thin Mints and the Girl Scouts are on-board  which means that the cupcake has no choice but to be delicious, fatty, and overpriced.

I must have this cupcake and I must have it yesterday.

Heck, I’m already getting twitchy just thinking about this confectionery delight.

You see, I’m not one of those fellas who can make a box of Thin Mints last until the next Girl Scout Cookie season rolls around.

No, no…I’m the kind of guy who—on a good day—is able to eat his cookies by the sleeve rather than the box.

That’s why I need this thing in my face immediately. Unfortunately, I’m crazy lazy and unmotivated, so I’m putting the responsibility on you, My Faithful Readers.

The first person to deliver me this cupcake wins a “Blank Stares and Blank Pages” prize pack and gets to watch me devour a cupcake with the ferocity of a Texas tornado.

If that’s not worth it, I don’t know what is.

Now get moving, this marvel of modern baking is only around until February 22!!

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I’d like you to buy me a dead man’s underwear.

Well, okay…they’re not technically underwear, they’re wrestling trunks; but for all intents and purposes they’re really just fancy underwear worn in choreographed combat.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just out trolling for any random pair of old, sweaty undies like some sort of lunatic.

No, no…the underwear I’m looking to acquire belonged to (and adorned the steroid-riddled posterior of) the one and only, “Macho Man” Randy Savage.

“Macho Man” Randy Savage is one of the most iconic characters in the history of professional wrestling.

His gravelly voice, wild hair, over-the-top intensity, bright costumes, and in-ring mastery made him standout in an era full of larger than life characters all battling for their moment in the spotlight.

It was, however, his presence in the marketing campaign for Slim Jim that led to his greatest notoriety outside of the wrestling crowd:

When I was a kid, I was a huge “Macho Man” Randy Savage fan.

He was the much, much cooler alternative to my older brother’s favorite wrestler, the All-American goody two shoes, Hulk Hogan.

Hogan did a leg drop to finish his opponents. Savage did a flying elbow drop from the top rope.

Hogan was a loner. Savage had a gorgeous ring valet named Ms. Elizabeth.

Hogan wore the same yellow trunks and yellow boots to the ring for every match. Savage had a vast array of ring attire that made him standout from the rest of the wrestlers.

Hogan couldn’t tell the difference between a wrist lock and a wrist watch. Savage could legitimately wrestle with the best in the business and make anyone look like a million bucks.

Hogan could (at the time) only play the straight-laced good guy. Savage could transition from good guy to bad guy and back again and play both roles like a seasoned actor.

Most importantly, while Hogan seemed to give the same boring interview time and time again; Savage could cut some of the most insane promos of all-time:

He also knew how to be eloquent, funny, and entertaining to a mainstream audience. All the while managing to mack on late ‘80s hotties like Morgan Fairchild:

Seriously, try to tell me that Hulk Hogan is, was, or ever could be cooler than the “Macho Man.”

Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Can’t do it, huh?! No worries, no one can.

Luckily, you have the opportunity to really throw your support behind Team Savage (seriously…suck it, Hogan), by buying me his old undies.

Right here, right now…you have the opportunity to bid on a pair of Savage’s wrestling trunks from his late ‘80s run as the “Macho King” after he defeated “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan for the King of the Ring crown.

Now if you’ll recall, the last time I begged you to bid on old wrestling memorabilia for me, it was for a ring coat that belonged to the Ultimate Warrior. That sucker was going for $7,500.

Suddenly, the $1,600 price tag on these tights doesn’t seem so bad, does it?!

No, I didn’t think so. Clearly you should rush out and buy this for me. They even have the “Buy It Now” option so that you don’t have to waste your time with bidding.

So hurry up and throw down some cash, because Randy Savage’s underwear won’t be available forever, and that’s a damn shame.

(Blogger’s Note: If someone buys this for me, I’m pretty sure I can convince Grace to let me wear them in our wedding. OOOOOOOHHHHHH YEEEEAAAAHHH!!!)

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I went to the grocery store tonight.

This was a mistake.

Apparently, I forgot that if there is one thing Bostonians love to do, it’s freak the hell out over impending storms.

You see, while I was going to the store because we were out of things like milk, bread, and coffee; the rest of the entire eastern seaboard went to the grocery store because “OHMYFUCKINGGODWINTERSTORMNEMOISGOINGTOMURDERUSALLINTHEFACE!!!!!“

The carts and baskets were all gobbled up.

The aisles were all packed shoulder-to-shoulder.

The produce, bread, and milk were all picked over.

The people were acting like ruthless savages.

It was madness, pure madness, I tell you.

I’m lucky I made it out alive.

The worst-part, however, is that no one seemed to grasp the reality of the situation.

Check out this batshit cart I stumbled upon:

Two days.

Two freakin’ days.

That’s how long this blizzard is supposed to be in town for; it’s going to roll in Friday afternoon with its heavy snow and crazy winds. Then it’s going to dip-out before supper on Saturday.

That’s it, yet this dude was preparing for the apocalypse.

Admittedly, this gave me a brief moment of panic where I thought “holy hell, maybe I’m not taking this thing seriously enough?!”

Then I remembered that I’m from the Midwest and it’s just a little snow.

I then bought a couple of Kit-Kats and a box of Trix to add to my storm preparation pack.

Oh and by “storm preparation pack,” I mean the case of beer I bought during my lunch break.

Bring it on, Nemo.

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I don’t take New England weather seriously.

Obviously, this doesn’t come as much of a shock to any of My Faithful Readers as they’ve read my jabs at the – ahem – “extreme weather” we get out this way a couple of times in the past.

Everyone here tends to freak out and completely lose their minds before anything ever happens and nine times out of ten, it never amounts to anything.

That having been said, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about the oncoming snowpocalypse known as “Winter Storm Nemo.”

There has been talk for days about impending blizzard-like conditions that could lock the city up for days with more than two feet of snow.

There has also been some speculation that it won’t do jack squat.

I’ve got no idea what to expect at this point.

They’ve already declared a state of emergency in Boston and shut the city down before even a single snowflake has fallen.

This afternoon, Governor Deval Patrick held a press conference where he basically told everyone to stay the hell at home tomorrow and said he’s shutting down public transportation in the middle of the afternoon on Friday.

Heck, even MIT has boarded up the doors for the day.

Despite all of that evidence that this thing could be a really, really big deal…I’m not sure if I should take this sucker seriously or just post a bunch of “Finding Nemo” related memes and laugh it off like a cocky Midwesterner.

This, My Faithful Readers, is a very complicated dilemma.

What ever shall I do?!

…nah, I’m just messing with you, I’m totes gonna roll with the memes.

Suck it, Nemo! Iowa Rules!

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I haven’t played Monopoly in well over a decade.

Even when I did play, I was always a pain in the ass and refused to use any of the existing game pieces, because I thought they kinda sucked.

I mean seriously, there was the race car and then the dog that didn’t totally blow, but they were always taken by someone else. After those two it was pretty much all garbage.

Look at the options:

Top hat? Riiiiiiiiiiight, that sounds like fun.
Shoe? Oh I’m sorry, was “stick” not an option.
Thimble? Pffffffffffffttttttt…
Wheelbarrow? Do I look like a day laborer?
Iron? Bitch please.

For the longest time, I’d take a baseball player token from this baseball checkers set I had and use that dude instead of wasting my time on any of the lame pieces.

Starting today, however, I no longer have to worry about finding ancillary pieces because the folks at Hasbro are making a change. Following an online vote on Facebook that allowed users to determine which piece stayed and which one was eliminated, it’s out with the iron and in with a kitty!

Here’s the news from the New York Post:

Scottie dog has a new nemesis in Monopoly after fans voted in an online contest to add a cat token to the property trading game, replacing the iron, toy maker Hasbro Inc. announced Wednesday.

The results were announced after the shoe, wheelbarrow and iron were neck and neck for elimination in the final hours of voting that sparked passionate efforts by fans to save their favorite tokens, and by businesses eager to capitalize on publicity surrounding pieces that represent their products.

The vote on Facebook closed just before midnight on Tuesday, marking the first time that fans have had a say on which of the eight tokens to add and which one to toss.

So there you have it. In this permanent press, wrinkle-free world the iron is out the door and, unsurprisingly, the cat (read: the reason the internet was invented) is in.

I just might have to go out and play me some Monopoly.

(Blogger’s Note: Oh-so-help-me-God, if anyone calls dibs on the cat before me…I will end them! I will not get stuck pushing around a stupid wheelbarrow!!)

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President Barack Obama was sworn in to begin his second term in office today.

As such, it feels like a pretty good time to look back on how he got here and, more precisely, the toll it has taken on him.

In creating “Presidial”, artist Jeremy Tubbs collected more than 2,500 found photos of Obama taken every day between January 1, 2008 and December 31, 2012.

These photos help to illustrate just how much of that “distinguished salt-n-pepper” look the POTUS has garnered in his four years at the helm (and his one year of campaigning for the job).

Call me crazy, but I think maybe–just maybe–President of the United States is a stressful job.

The video is only two-minutes long, but oddly hypnotizing:

I don’t know about you, but it felt a little like it needed some sort of background music.

I’ve found that if you play Madonna’s Ray of Light or Matt Kearney’s Sooner or Later they both sync up pretty well for the rapid-fire photo action.

Totally unrelated side note: Obama has a nice collection of bitchin’ blue ties.

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This simple (yet completely accurate) cat petting guide comes to us courtesy of (The) Peter Norman.

Study this chart, My Faithful Readers!

Study it well.

This chart could very well be the difference between an afternoon of happy kitty times and a trip to the emergency room to seal up the gaping wound that Mister Whiskers just inflicted upon your ignorant, belly-rubbing ass.

There is a 93% chance that this will prove to be the most important chart you ever see…take notes.

Take all the notes.

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This may blow your mind, but I’m not really big into Bulgarian politics.

As a result, prior to today, I had zero idea who in the blue hell Ahmed Dogan was or that a person with that name even existed.

Now, however, I am fully-aware that Dogan is the long-time leader of the Movement for Rights and Freedoms (MRF) in Bulgaria.

I know that he’s 58-years-old.

I know that he’s been leading his party for nearly 25-years.

I also know that people want him dead.

Not just any people, but people who are really good at evading security.

Granted, these are also people who are really, really, really bad at follow-through.

Here’s the video of the bungled assassination attempt:

Huh?!

So this gigantic dude—who looks like the stereotypical European bad guy in literally every movie that’s ever featured a European bad guy—managed to sneak into a major political event with a gun. He is then able to just saunter up on stage like it’s nothing. Then he draws his gun, puts it in the dude’s face, and just gets bitch-slapped away by the nearly-60-year-old politician before the bulk of the Bulgarian congress swarms the stage to stomp the dude into oblivion.

You don’t see that every day.

Pro Tip: If you’re going to assassinate a politician, double-check your gun to make sure you’ve turned the safety off BEFORE you rush the stage.

Blogger’s Note: Is there any chance this isn’t 100% staged?! This whole thing has to be a political stunt to ensure re-election for Oldy McBalls, right?! A would-be assassin can’t be this big of a dipshit. It’s just not possible.

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I majored in journalism.

Apparently, this qualifies as journalism.

…that is all.

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If you’re anything like me, you spend at least an hour of everyday thinking about Batman.

If you’re not like me, I assume that means you only spend, what, like, 15 minutes thinking about Batman.

If you’re not thinking about Batman at all during your day…well, you’re probably a terrorist or something and you should be watching your ass because Batman is coming for you.

…or you secretly are The Batman and you’re trying to throw me off your scent?! Well-played, you rogue!

Anyway, I’m getting off-track here.

No matter what your stance on Batman, I think we can all agree that it’s a good thing that artist, Giovanni Costa digs the Dark Knight.

If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be blessed with this amazing series of drawings entitled Spaghetti Gotham:

Costa’s work extends beyond these awesome renderings as he created an entire cast of Spaghetti Western-inspired Batman characters.

You can see the series in its entirety over at his website.

I think it’s safe to assume that if you’re thinking about surprising me with the Batman print, I won’t be disappointed.

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Grace and I are living like hobos.

Don’t get me wrong here, we’re not, like, living on the street or anything. We are, however, in the midst of a serious game of “Survivor: Making the Bed.”

It seems to happen every time we do the laundry.

We take off all of the sheets and pillow cases and whatnot and then we come back from the laundromat and there’s this awkward standoff where we both expect the other one to put the sheet and pillow cases back on the bed.

Only neither one of us wants to do it.

Thus we find ourselves entrenched in a game of “Survivor” and believe me folks, this game has no winners.

As a result, we’ve slept the last two nights without any sheets or pillow cases.

We are living like friggin’ savages up in here and it’s getting intense.

I don’t want to sleep without sheets. I’m a grown man who has become accustomed to jersey knit fabric nestling my body into a sweet, blissful slumber. Right now, I’m living like a common street urchin without any sheets or pillow cases.

It’s ridiculous.

…but I refuse to crack. I will not let the pretty lady defeat me!

Viva la resistance.