Hanging Around … San Diego Comic-Con 2008

July 31, 2008 Hanging Around 2 Comments

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

Beginning July 23, over 130,000 people gathered into the San Diego Convention Center for four days of panels, discussions, celebrity sightings and lines. Lots and lots of lines. And though attendees came from all different backgrounds all over the world, they all shared a common interest: a love of sci-fi, fantasy, comic and cult culture. When it comes right down to it, Comic-Con is four straight days of Nerd Pride.

This year, the Con’s 39th in existence, was a historic one. For the first time ever, all the passes (multi and single day alike) sold out weeks in advance. And it showed. The exhibition hall was essentially one giant mass of moving flesh, all attempting to amble in different directions. Some towards the anime and manga area, some towards the larger and more ornate areas devoted to big studios, like Warner Brothers and Lion’s Gate. And some were heading toward the booth for the Furry Appreciation Society. There was definitely something for everybody. And naturally, many were in costume.

Many attendees were overheard saying how different the Con is now versus years past. No longer is it solely devoted to the more classically associated sci-fi, fantasy and comic, but it’s expanded to include booths and panels devoted to shows like The Office and upcoming films like The Pineapple Express.

Paris Hilton was there, too.

As the Con is a very large jumble of hundreds of different panels and events taking place all at once, here are some highlights:

Doctor Who

(featuring Steven Moffat and Julie Gardner)

Newly appointed executive producer and head writer Steven Moffat kept the crowd in fits of laughter at the panel for the beloved BBC sci-fi program. He is basically a one-man version of his brilliant and missed show Coupling. He and Producer Julie Gardner didn’t give too much away regarding future plotlines, but Moffat did promise to keep true to how he has always viewed Who.

“I just remember being absolutely terrified, so that’s what I’m going to write.”

In regards to his feelings about his new position, Moffat said, “I suppose it should be daunting or nerve-wracking, but aw, what the hell, it’s not a real job like working in hospital.”

When it came to direct questions regarding the future of Who, Moffat and Gardner were both hilariously evasive. One audience member relayed that Neil Gaiman, upon being asked if he would write an episode for DW, said, “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Moffat, true to form, responded with full bravado, “I can absolutely confirm that that would be nice.”

For the first time ever, the full trailer for this year’s Christmas special was shown, and it’s got everything. Cybermen, the 1800s and the doctor running around like mad.

The Mystery Science Theater 3000
20th Anniversary Reunion

(featuring Trace Beaulieu, Paul Chaplin, Frank Conniff, Bill Corbett, Joel Hodgson, Jim Mallon, Kevin Murphy, Mike Nelson, Bridget Nelson, Mary Jo Pehl, J. Elvis Weinstein, and moderated by Patton Oswalt

“Hello, sweaty shut-ins.”

Crow T. Robot makes an appearance

Right from the moment he walked on stage, Patton Oswalt completely won over the packed room full of hardcore MSTies, many of whom had sat in the room since 3 or 4 p.m. to ensure entrance. These fans were the lucky ones, as hundreds in line for the event were turned away. The beloved Comedy Central, and later Sci-Fi Channel, program known for its trademark silhouettes of a man and two robots cracking wise at bad movies, still has one of the most rabid followings around, even though it was cancelled almost ten years ago. For the first time ever, the entire cast and team of writers from all ten seasons sat down and had a panel discussion. While quoting some of their own favorite lines (such as “I’m gonna sink this bitch” from the Titanic portion of their Oscar special) and discussing how the characters came about, the fans hung on every word, and it was one of the only panels that didn’t prominently feature fans yelling at the panelists the whole time (though there was one moment of that. Joel Hodgson quipped, “I don’t know how to react when someone yells things at me.”)

Those hoping for any drama or admitted bitterness were certainly let down. Everyone got along so well, with all the hilariousness that made them famous, and with all the Midwestern niceness they’ve become just as well-known for. Though much has been made on Internet forums about on-set squabbles and who’s-raking-in-the-royalty-money-and-who-isn’t, everyone seemed genuinely happy to be around each other and supportive of each others’ endeavors. They’ve essentially divided into three camps now, Rifftrax (featuring Nelson, Corbett, and Murphy), Cinematic Titanic (Hodgson, Beaulieu, Pehl, Weinstein and Conniff) and the new MST3K.com (Mallon and Chaplin), but crossovers have not been ruled out, and at least in Pehl’s case, has already happened (she worked with Mike Nelson on a Rifftrax of Glitter).

One new announcement was the coming 20th Anniversary DVD set from Shout Factory. This set will feature the episodes “First Spaceship on Venus,” “Laserblast,” “Werewolf” and “Future War.” The set will also contain lobby cards, a Crow T. Robot figurine, new interviews (shot at Comic-Con, so they’re VERY new) as well as the Anniversary Panel itself. It can be preordered now on Amazon.

Rifftrax Live at the Balboa Theater
Plan 9 From Outer Space

Though not part of the Con proper, this event was a perfect weekend capper and worthy enough for many to purchase additional tickets and walk through downtown San Diego (in costume, in some cases) to the beautiful Balboa Theater. Mike Nelson, Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy of MST3K and Rifftrax did two live shows (7 p.m. and 9:30 p.m.), riffing on the Ed Wood anti-classic Plan 9 From Outer Space – a film they never used on MST3K due to problems with the narration obscuring their own riffs. They finally were able to make it happen. And it was worth the wait. Picking on Bela Lugosi’s incredibly obvious post-mortem double, Vampira’s inhumanly tiny waist and above all else, Tor Johnson (evidently named so because “that’s what he did to his mother at birth”) what was already hilarious on its own (albeit, unintentionally) became a true work of comedic art.

So if you have a love of the “popular arts” and a high tolerance for crowds, costumes and overpriced pop, they’re already taking reservations for next year. It’s certainly an experience one will never forget.

Written by Courtney Enlow, July 2008. For more information on Comic-Con or to make reservations for 2009, visit the official site. For a more personal account of the Comic-Con, read Enlow’s Outside of the In-Crowd.

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Outside of the In-Crowd – San Diego Comic-Con 2008 – A more personal account

July 31, 2008 Outside of the In-Crowd No Comments

Courtney Enlow

San Diego International Airport. It is 5:38 a.m. Pacific Time on Sunday, July 27, 2008 and it is official: Comic-Con kicked the shit out of me. I am dehydrated, exhausted, my nose is stuffed up, I’m nauseous and a bit shaky. And you know what? I had a pretty amazing time.

First and foremost, let’s get the negative out of the way. A lot of Con stereotypes are very true. Foul odors, fouler flesh displays and endless paranoia that somehow you yourself are responsible for at least one of the above (I went through two packs of gum in three and a half days and bruised myself pulling up my jeans and/or bra constantly fearing that I’d unintentionally display something). It was instantly apparent that for many, Comic-Con is the most social interaction they have all year. It was equally apparent that for many others, Comic-Con is nothing more than a chance to get attention, and attempts to gain as much as possible usually result in an exorbitant amount of uncovered flesh and/or constant very loud talking during panels (I very nearly racked up a body count during Venture Brothers/Robot Chicken. More on that later.)

I arrived in San Diego at 2 p.m. on Wednesday. I saw Bill Corbett (Sci-Fi Channel Crow/Brain Guy from MST3K) dropping off a rental car, but my Midwestern embarrassment precluded me from saying anything – which was really obnoxious of me actually, considering the man gave me a job and all. (In my defense, he had sunglasses on and I was only 75 percent certain that it was him I was staring at, and didn’t want to say anything unless I was certain.)

I rectified the ignoring-Bill-at-the-airport thing when I saw him and Mike Nelson at the Rifftrax booth the next day. We chatted, and they are as nice as you could possibly imagine and treated me like a friend and colleague (and not the spazzy fangirl I am) all the various times I talked to them for the rest of my time in San Diego. Waiting in line for the Saw 5 and Repo: The Genetic Opera panels, we see the woman who will henceforth forever be known as Naked Leia Tramp Stamp. She was dressed as Slave Leia, with two very tiny strips of fabric covering her front and back, and her breasts were covered in theory, but in execution, not so much. Essentially, she was nude. But most importantly, she had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lower back tattoo. She also had sadness in her eyes.

Speaking of Repo, Paris Hilton was there. She was everything I hoped and more. She spoke in her tiny baby fake-voice and pandered to the crowd saying how she’s more comfortable at Comic-Con than at red carpet premieres. When director Darren Lynn Bausman said that she was cast because of how strange and inappropriate a casting decision that is, she didn’t get it. The second the panel was over, she started posing like mad. I laughed for about an hour at this.

The next day I ran into Mike Nelson again, this time with his lovely (and VERY tiny) wife Bridget. I witness the audacity of fandom when someone declared himself to Mike Nelson as the biggest MST3K fan ever before shoving a camera at Bridget, who also happened to be a co-star/co-writer. She was Mr. B Natural! Don’t force your camera upon Mr. B. I also got to meet Mary Jo Pehl and her husband Ron. Also uber kindly. I tell them all about Naked Leia Tramp Stamp. I will relay this story approximately seven thousand more times over the next few days.

Around 2 p.m.-ish, I got a mad attack of the hypogylcies that I am prone too. With nothing else to do other than stand around and shake, I ducked into the panel for Ghost Hunters. This was horrifically boring. Only two people showed up, neither of them being Jason or Grant, the stars of the show. Instead we had Donna LaCroix, who I’m sure is a dear and lovely woman, but came off more like a post-show cast member of The Bachelor, mostly just stoked that she’s on television. Also present was Robb Demarest from Ghost Hunters International, who was a little more real about things, but still couldn’t save the dullness of this panel. I wasn’t asking for a poltergeist to rip through 6B and kill us all or anything, but some EVP samples or even some more clips would have helped.

After that, I booked up front to the seat that would become mine mine all mine for the next several hours. You see, the Mystery Science Theater 3000 20th Anniversary Reunion Panel would be happening later that evening, which is the entire reason I went to Con in the first place. Pardon me for not giving a shit about Max Payne. I was there for Tom Servo. So I claim my chair and hunker down. The next panel was for X-Box Live Content. I hadn’t read the preview beforehand, I figured it would just be a panel about video games. Ah-yawn. I brought my iPod and some crossword puzzles. However, it was not about video games at all. It was actually a panel about the new horror/comedy shorts Microsoft is producing. The panel was made up of writers and directors like Saw‘s James Wan and Leigh Whannell, Hard Candy‘s David Slade and Lucky McKee, director of one of my favorite movies ever, May. Sean Gunn was there as well, channeling his brother James (“I get my inspiration from sodomizing animals. I’m James Gunn.”)

For as much talent as there was in this room, this panel wasn’t too good. David Slade was kind of pricky and I literally could not have hated the preview for his short more if it had featured scenes of my mother being slapped around. Jenna Dewan, star of the Academy Award winning (*shakes head no*) film Step Up was there for almost no discernible reason and didn’t really say or do anything other than sit there and look waxen.

It should be noted that my feelings regarding this panel probably have something to do with the individual sitting next to me. This fellow was probably in his early 20s and was … I don’t quite know how to put this … let me just say that at many points during Comic-Con, I was very certain that I had accidentally wandered into the Asperger’s Syndrome Support Convention instead, and this kid was a key reason for this sensation. During X-Box Live, he kept falling asleep on my shoulder. Not just falling, rather he was rolling to sleep. He was practically gyrating. I, being the kind delicate flower I am, jutted my elbow out so he would hit it every time he entered my personal space. After smacking into my elbow five or six times, he proceeded to pull out a Subway sandwich made entirely of peppers, olives and the decayed remains of a sandwich he had during last year’s Con (at least that’s what it smelled like) and spent almost a full half hour eating it. I literally thought I was going to scream, vomit and cry all at once. Then I was going to have to wail on someone who in all honesty may have been slightly touched.

Next came the panels for Venture Brothers and Robot Chicken. Now if there is anything I have learned in my life as a Kevin Smith fan, it is that some completely awesome things have some of the worst fans possible. That is not to say that all fans of these programs or people are awful. Quite the contrary. Most are just as cool and funny as the fandom they share. But never the ones who ask the questions and NEVER the ones who feel the need to speak during the panels themselves.

Note to any and everyone who ever attends any event involving someone you admire leading or taking part in a discussion: No one is there to hear you. No one thinks you are funny or interesting and you do not matter. Do not under any circumstances yell ANYTHING during this panel or discussion. Don’t yell your favorite quotes. Don’t yell about your favorite characters. Don’t even yell, “You rock!” Just don’t do it. Go fuck yourself instead. Idiots.

* ahem * Sorry. I’m kind of the tiredest, bitterest little writer in the world right now. I’ve been living on Luna Bars and beer for four days. And I had a really ill-fated experience with some Dexatrim on Day One that I may never recover from. On with the Con …

After the tools dispersed, it was time. The MST3K 20th Anniversary Panel. Three words – Fan. Girl. Squee.

It was great. Patton Oswalt moderated, and in addition to being one of the best comedians out there, he is a true MSTie. He asked the questions only a real fan-of-geek-proportions would ask (such as who would win in a corporate war – Gizmonics, GloboChem from Mr. Show or Montgomery Burns, Inc.) I won’t go on too much, because the panel itself will be on the 20th Anniversary DVD release of MST and I expect you all to go out any buy it or I’ll hold my breath till I turn blue.

The next day was pretty nothing. I stayed in and wrote a bit of my next Rifftrax and shook for about seven hours (still from that damned Dexatrim. I’ll never try to lose weight again.) I made an attempt to go back to the Con and take some pictures but had hypoglycemic episode number two and had to head to Subway where I waited in line for about an hour behind people who spent the entire line comparing Yu Gi Oh cards. Oh Comic-Con. Luckily I got my chicken ranch wrap before I could savagely beat them to death with their own sparkly binders. (For those of you who are beginning to fear that I have anger and violence issues, low blood sugar makes people slightly stabby and ragey. I promise that in a normal glycemic state, I’m pretty nice almost.)

After a quick recovery nap at the hotel, it was back out into the world for the Rifftrax Live Show. It was awesome. The Balboa Theater is very pretty, and the crowd was lively and awesome. Only flaw of the night was that Naked Leia Tramp Stamp attended the 7 p.m. show, and not the 9:30 one I was at. Fare thee well, Naked Leia Tramp Stamp. May our paths cross again some day. Hopefully after you’ve laundered your costume and everything you sat upon.

And that just about brings us to present. I’m tired. I’m sick. I feel like I’ve been through a war. But you know what? It was awesome. I got to real-life meet Bill, Mike and Kevin, some of the people who are most responsible for me being a writer, and I got to see that sometimes when you meet your heroes, they’re even better and kinder than you ever thought, and I really thank them for that. I got to hang out with some ridiculously cool people and made a number of new friends, who I also thank for making my Comic-Con-virginity loss a pretty painless experience and just for being incredibly fun and hilarious. I got to stand thisclose to Joss Whedon, Nathan Fillion and Kevin Smith. I got to gaze upon the glory of Naked Leia Tramp Stamp. I got to find out that Dexatrim is not a healthy way to a better body. All in all, a great four days. And if I can clothe myself in air fresheners and a gas mask, I’ll probably go back next year.

For more on the Comic-Con, check out our Hanging Around feature.

Courtney Enlow is a writer living in Chicago and working as a corporate shill to pay the bills. You can contact her at courtney@hobotrashcan.com.

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Note to Self – Army fumbles again

July 31, 2008 Note to Self No Comments

Brian Murphy

Someone in the Pentagon owes a thank you note to Ted Thompson and the Green Bay Packers.

While the biggest story of the weekend revolved around the Wisconsin-based soap opera As the Favre Turns, the U.S. Army was quietly trying to sweep a public relations mess under the rug after once again mishandling a story involving the National Football League.

That’s because, on the eve of training camp, the powers that be in the Department of the Army decided to call an audible and force rookie safety Caleb Campbell, who was drafted by the Detroit Lions in the seventh round of the NFL draft, to head for the showers so that his alter ego, 2nd Lt. Caleb Campbell, could returned back to West Point immediately for duty.

Surely, there was an explanation, right? No one would object if it turned out that Campbell was in a high-demand branch the Army was understaffed in and was needed immediately to deploy in support of the Global War on Terrorism. Football is supremely popular in our culture, but not to the point that anyone expects troops to be picked off the battle lines in favor of playing special teams and garbage time for a perennial loser in Detroit. All it would take is one high-ranking officer standing in front of a podium explaining that this was the case and no one would have thought twice about it.

But much like the Pat Tillman nightmare, the Army assessed the situation, figured out the worst possible way it could play out and then called that play.

The Army can spend millions of dollars sponsoring Mark Martin’s NASCAR team, but the decision makers couldn’t live with the idea of free publicity and the public support that comes with the once-in-a-lifetime chance for a Soldier to make headlines every Sunday as millions watched the feel-good story play out in our country’s most popular sport. (Seriously, think about it – if announcers can’t go 10 minutes without mentioning the relationship between Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo and mildly talented Jessica Simpson, then they most certainly would have pounced over the chance to gush over an Army lieutenant wearing a new uniform when Detroit came to town).

So less than 24 hours before Campbell was due to report to the Lions training camp, he was informed by his agent that the rules had changed and he was no longer allowed to pursue his childhood dream. Turn in your helmet and playbook and pick up your duffle bag and beret.

Where would he be reporting? To an infantry unit in Iraq? A military intelligence team in Afghanistan? No, he’s heading back to West Point to be a special assistant to the football team. Why give the kid the chance to reach millions of fans who may never otherwise even consider the U.S. Army when he could be a glorified ballboy for a three-win doormat like the Black Knights football team (who hasn’t had a winning record since 1996)?

Here’s the problem with the situation – in 2005, the Army passed a rule that if a cadet was an exceptional enough athlete to be signed by a professional team, he or she could pursue that career while serving as a recruiter for the Army. And since his sophomore year, Campbell has heard from West Point and above that there was a very real chance he’d be a part of the program.

For three years everyone has been telling him this could happen, and then the Lions take a chance on the kid because they’ve been assured the Army will make him available. So naturally, with the game on the line, Lucy pulled the football out from under Charlie Brown and everyone loses.

The part that doesn’t make any sense is that the Army is still very much involved in sports. Four years ago, a half dozen Soldiers participated in the Olympics, and rest assured that a select few will once again represent their country in a couple weeks in China. There are also All-Army teams competing in sports such as soccer, basketball and boxing, where Soldiers put their careers on hold to compete in inter-service competitions that no one outside of that gym or soccer field will ever hear about.

It’s okay for those Soldiers to live their dream, but not Campbell, who is apparently getting punished for nothing more than being talented. He’ll quietly serve out his commitment by serving orange slices at halftime to a college laughingstock because that’s where his chain of command feels he’ll best represent his country. And people think Lions general manager Matt Millen is the clueless one.

Brian Murphy is an award-winning sportswriter, and still doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Contact him at murf@the5holes.com.

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Overrated – NFL draft acumen

July 31, 2008 Overrated No Comments

Ned Bitters

This week’s inductee into the “Overrated Hall of Fame” is … NFL draft acumen.

NFL training camps opened this week, and once again I am reminded that this nation has approximately 132 million football experts. It seems just about every male in this country fancies himself (That’s right, Mr. Testosterone, you’re a “fancier.”) a gridiron guru. They memorize names, numbers, standings, and records. They know the basic strategies and what plays are called for in different game situations. They can spot the mental mistakes of players and the occasional coaching gaffe, and they shout these at their big screen, hi-def televisions with breath befouled by nacho cheese and Budweiser. God knows they can rattle off statistics, especially in this age of Fantasy League Geekiness.

But once you get past all of that, once you get into truly analyzing the talent of the individual players, most fans don’t know jack. Unless you make your living playing, coaching or scouting football beyond the high school level, chances are your crackerjack ability to evaluate the athletes, especially the ones your team just drafted, comes solely from what you heard from the alleged experts on the NFL Channel, ESPN and those boring-assed sports talk shows your pathetic ass has listened to since you were 12. Yet football fans go around spouting off their analyses about players as if they really do know just what the hell makes this Division I player better than that one. When it comes down to being able to identify and rank talent, most fans don’t know shit.

The average fan (you) couldn’t analyze the difference in blocking techniques between the all-universe guard from Oklahoma, whose cost of a college education at a decent school entails lifting, blocking and banging the chunkiest cheerleader, and the couldn’t-block-a-one-legged-Emanuel Lewis guard from Temple, whose cost of a free education at a decent school entails a weekly ass-whooping from one Big East defensive tackle after another. To test this theory, I’d like to take fifty random Division I college quarterbacks and have them show up at a combine in identical uniforms with no names on their backs and dark visors over their face masks. I’d fill a stadium with 50,000 football “experts,” meaning know-nothing fans, then have the QB’s go through a series of the same drills that allow scouts to get a handle on which players are the best pro prospects.

I’ll bet the combined total of six of your fantasy league fees that every one of these quarterbacks, from the Heisman favorite on down to the poor bastard who’s going to lead his inept MAC team to yet another 2-10 Bowl-less season, will look pretty much the same to Joe Fan, a.k.a. The Water Cooler Draft Expert You Work With, or, you know … you.

This would even hold true for the expert NFL analysts from whom most fans get their expert opinions. As good as TV football analysts like Sal Palantonio, John Clayton and Chris Mortensen are at their jobs (and they’re great), they’re just reporting back what they’ve heard from the real talent evaluators who live inside the game. Their true skill isn’t player analysis; it’s gaining access, asking the right questions and being able to digest the info and present it to the average fan. (And we’re all average fans, believe me.) Take away the access these guys have, and they don’t know any more than the rest of us Lombardis of the La-Z-Boys.

Listening to quasi-expert fans analyze the yearly draft would be an easier task if they would at least preface their opinions with phrases like, “I heard on ESPN that …” or “This one scout claims that …” or “That geeky John Clayton, who is usually right, reported that …” At least I’d know the fan was being honest and just citing what some NFL insider claims to know.

Yes, “claims” to know. Even the expert hires on NFL payrolls often don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. You want evidence? Say hello to first rounders Tony Mandarich, Brian Bosworth and Ryan Leaf. Now say goodbye. Meet first-pick-in-the-entire-1999-NFL-draft Tim Couch. What’s that? Oh, sorry … he’s already out of the game. Save a seat for Joey Harrington and Akili Smith, all selected very early in the draft on the advice of the experts who make a living inside the game of football, experts that the average fan echos in his confident attempt to sound knowing. You ever hear of Tony Eason, Ken O’Brien or Todd Blackledge? They were all quarterbacks chosen in the first round of the 1983 NFL Draft … before Dan Marino.

The most pathetic draft comments come from those avid, bleed-their-teams’-colors fans, the Kool Aid guzzling goofballs who swear every year that this year’s (Redskins, Steelers, whoever’s) draft was just amazingly stupendously awesome youbetcha. They’ll talk about how their team “addressed weaknesses” and “got stronger in the defensive backfield” and even “acquired some much-needed depth at wide receiver.” They look at what positions were drafted, then declare that that’s where the team is going to improve. Well, no shit, Shula-lock. Anybody can figure out that that’s how a team drafts. You don’t see New England wasting their first two picks on quarterbacks. They look at their weaknesses and address their needs, such as hiring more trustworthy video operators who won’t run their mouths and get their team in a heap of shit, not wasting a pick who has no chance in hell of replacing all-world quarterback and top-rate poon hound Tom Brady.

What fans often fail to realize is that every draft is pretty much a crapshoot that can’t take into account the myriad factors that determine how good or bad a player might turn out. Will he be able to control his diet, or will the already fat fuck eat himself into a training camp cut by his third season? Will this guy Hennessy himself out of the starting lineup by the end of his second year? Will that first rounder you so adore lose all his motivation once he cashes that six million dollar signing bonus? Will Lawrence Phillips continue to manhandle women? Will Pacman Jones ever stop being Pacman Jones?

We don’t know. Even the teams don’t know. But the fans will continue to don the rose-colored glasses and declare that each kid in the draft is potentially Canton-bound. Have you ever heard a fan analyze the draft and claim that a drafted player might not be good? You hear nothing but raves. My favorite is when they claim that a player “is supposed to be good.” As in, “Yeah, you know, I hear that kid they took in the seventh round, that tight end out of Oregon? He’s supposed to be pretty good.” Well, no shit, Mr. Amos Alonzo State the Obvious. Of the thousands of college football players who graduate every year, only a very tiny percentage get drafted, and only after months of scrutiny by NFL teams who spend obscene amounts of money preparing for this once-a-year shot at making their teams better. And your crack analysis amounts to, “He’s supposed to be good.” Gee, thanks for the tip. I’m so glad they went out on a limb and drafted someone with promise, because that guy they took in the second round, the one they gave the $1.5 million signing bonus to? I heard he’s “supposed to pretty much suck.” At least that what Rich Eisen says.

Then again, maybe a conversation like this could actually take place and be believable. I mean, have you followed the Cardinals and Lions over the past 10 years?

Ned Bitters is, in fact, overrated. You can contact him at teacherslounge@hobotrashcan.com.

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Chicken and Milk – And really, what’s more important?

July 31, 2008 Chicken and Milk No Comments 080731.jpg

(Click to enlarge.)

Jeremiah was raised in the deepest part of the darkest jungle. That’s why he smells like adventure. He currently lives in Elkins, WV with his wife, Becky, and son, Isaiah, who is epic and destined to rule the world one day. You can contact him at jeremiahwentz@hobotrashcan.com.