1 Tuff Place

Being PC is not for me

2007-07-16T22:14:17Z

I suppose that's obvious if you're my friend, or you read this blog, or you know a middle-class white guy in his 20's. I love it when people don't worry so much about offending anyone, especially when they offend people by complaining about peers who try not to offend anyone.

Don Cheadle stars in the new biopic Talk to Me. It's about 1970's DJ and activist Petey Greene. Don told viewers on Letterman to watch this clip, and now I really wanna see the movie. Like some bloggers though, I can't stop picturing Cheadle as Buck in Boogie Nights.

The best part: when Petey talks about putting salt on the melon. "You've gotta put just a twang of salt on the mellon." I think this is where my boy John Witherspoon got all his material. "Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang!" Yup, that's the name of his official site..

All For Naught

2007-06-26T07:25:26Z

CmcD puts his pants back on following a crushing defeat at Wiimbledon.

Ousted in the third round of Wiimbledon. I never got a big enough crowd to really strut my stuff. Instead, some other dudes got to be on ABC Nightly News and look like dorks. Expect a wrap-up and more photos shortly.

In the meantime, the lame ABC News piece on Wiimbledon that aired Monday June 25th:

Final Training Day

2007-06-23T14:06:29Z

I only have to look back to the summer of 1994 for confidence on this the eve of Wiimbledon. It was during that summer, over a series of weekly trials, that I bested a handful of pubescent dorks for the title of Blockbuster Store Champion, the winner of their now-defunct annual video game tournament. It was a stunning achievement for an awkward 13 year-old such as myself (perhaps even more shocking was one of my friends not only finished behind me, but below a loveable blind child). I got a real top-notch certificate of my coolness which was promptly framed and hung proudly from my wall, most likely alongside a WWF poster. But the best aspect of winning (close second: the ensuing ego trip) was a shiny card that granted me free video game rentals for a full year. And, man, did I ever play some shitty games! So I guess that brings us to the present. Tomorrow will be the culmination of all those wasted hours.

Rocket! Rocket!

2007-06-22T23:42:16Z

Roger Clemens 2057

1Tuff readers who know me (and there aren't many) know that I'm a huge Met fan. That said, I'm not a Yankee hater, but this was too good to pass up.

This video has been making the rounds, and I love it. Yeah, it's a bit long, and I was really hoping the voice of Larry David would make a return appearance to play Steinbrenner, but I guess you can't win them all.

"Get Better George! Get Better!"

iHipster

2007-06-21T20:22:36Z

combine CMcD's favorite new band with his favorite company; mix in my favorite orthodox hair style, and you've got the best iPhone commercial to date.

There are a ton of home made jobs out there btw... Makes me think 1Tuff needs to jump on that bandwagon.

Training Day #1

2007-06-20T19:26:38Z

“Dude. Game On.”

So read the confirmation of my acceptance into this Saturday’s inaugural Wiimbledon Nintendo Wii Tennis Tournament. It should be of no surprise that Wii Tennis is the sport of choice for the 1 Tuff populace. Thank the genius freak minds over at Nintendo for taking the dynamic nature of sport and making it sedentary with just enough illusions of would-be fitness to assuage our guilt. Hell, Wii Tennis is so great that you don’t even have to control the movement of your player, all you do is swing the remote. CmcWii gets his virtual sweat on while CmcD occasionally flicks his wrist. Word around the country is that Wii Sports has replaced (or runs a close second to) masturbation as the most accurate solitary simulation. Barring a Durex-sponsored Whack Off Tournament, Wiimbledon will be the closest many come to engaging in an actual, physical event between two consenting individuals. ~~And it’s time for a champion to rear his head. It’s time for a champion to come out on top.~~ Forget it. I’m taking this tourney. “And you can take that to the bank...the blood bank” (S. Seagal as M. Storm, 1990).

Throughout the week I’ll be posting updates (about time, right?) leading to Saturday’s main event, held from 12-5pm at Barcade in Brooklyn. I have devised a training regimen that specifically targets the environs and fauna that will constitute Wiimbledon ’07. Last night, while shaking out the last load of the day’s harvest, I jotted down these points to focus on in the final days of training and preparation.

]]> - Dress to Depress – the oft-delayed production of Anyone For Wii (1 Tuff Place, 2007) has left me with an unusually skimpy uniform that could seriously trouble an opposing Wii racketeer. This outfit has doubled as women’s sleepwear and looked much more appropriate. Wear it with the high socks and Air Jordan V’s. Do unusual stretching maneuvers before game.

- Who’s Harry Crunk? – Barcade is not Arcade with a B, but Bar with a ‘cade dangling off. Train like it’s game day. Start drinking double oatmeal chocolate sundae stouts by the bucket-full while Wii-ing. Play a constant loop of TV On the Radio, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and The Hold Steady and try to keep up a smile.

- The Men of Space Station 11 – the crowd at this joint is going to be distinctive and thus distracting. If there are any spare mannequins lying around the training center it’s best to position them around the TV. Then just hang a fake beard on ‘em and off we go. Maybe a fedora too, but only if there’s multiple beardeds. If short on mannequins...wait, why the fuck would we be short on mannequins?!

- Downtime - There’s going to be a lot of downtime before the first match and any subsequent matches should I advance. During that downtime I’ll need to play a lot of Budweiser Tapper, arguably my favorite video game ever. Barcade has the original coin-op version, before it expanded out of bars into homes in the early 80s as Root Beer Tapper. This is the kind of relic that has ashtrays and can holders built-in!

And here we are, 25 years later, once again playing video games in a bar. Enough nostalgia, I have to get practicing.

The House Band

2007-06-15T18:40:29Z

The music really reflects this postwar Viennese sense of impending doom.

I was digging through the crates the other day and dusted off an old copy of the ne'er released hodgepodge that is Flava Tribe's The Sword of Damocles. The earlier title, Flava Tribe Will Cut Your Dick Off, was abandoned after some unsavory focus groups indicated their displeasure with the threat-as-title approach. Now, after reading Damocles' wikipedia entry, I'm just a little confused and rather uncomfortable (see: "Immediately, he lost all taste for the fine foods and beautiful boys"). Regardless, this is a fun chronological jaunt through FT's early awful songs. I still think they're fun to listen to though, see if you agree.

The Sword of Damocles (.zip file) - Right click (or for you savvy Mac users ctrl-click) the link to the left and Save As... Then unzip it and throw it in iTunes. Enjoy the artwork.

Tracklisting: 1) Flava Over Here; 2) Outstanding; 3) Fuck Tha Thugs; 4) R.E.P.; 5) Trust; 6) No Reservations (Old Version); 7) Alive (Freestyle) (Toyed with leaving this one off but I sadly know it's a fan fave...note the singular use of fan); 8) Our Hip-Hop, Our Music, Our Way (feat. Nunzi Balls); 9) The Wrath; 10) 1 by 1; 11) Self-Destruction; 12) Reflections.

Bling Ballz

2007-05-25T15:49:16Z

"Now I know it ain't easy to stab your balls..."

Not quite sure how I found this, but I'm glad I did. Straight outta Vegas, The Bassturd is a, dare I say, juvenile version of FT. I'll let the video speak for itself, I just like to think about the mindset the guys were in when they decided to create it. "Dude, the only thing funnier than rapping about bedazzled nuts would be making stick figure animations of them"

Amen to that

Holy Shit

2007-05-23T15:35:13Z

Stallone takes on Myanmar and an increasing irrelevance in John Rambo

Possible future Stallone sequels: Marion Cobretti - one man single-handedly solves the US-Mexico border crisis with the help of a hotrod, a leather jacket, and an eternal 5 o'clock shadow; Ray Tango and Hooch - when Tango's partner, Cash, leaves him in an attempt to resurrect his career, Tango must team up with a lovable pooch in an effort to appeal to an audience too young to scoff at his grotesquely swollen 60 year-old skull; and Lincoln Hawk is Over The Hill - Set amidst the energy crisis, Stallone takes to the cutthroat world of amateur thumb wrestling to win back his effeminate son, a suitcase full of HGH, and a hybrid 18-wheeler.

The future is indeed promising...

Oh well I guess it would be nice....

2007-05-11T00:15:06Z

I've mentioned this one to a few friends so far, and everytime I say "Did you see that George Michael is going to be in new movie?" I always get the same response:

"You mean the George Michael, or our George Michael?

As much as I love the drunk driving, public bathroom loving, perma-stubbled 80's pop star, of course I mean George Michael Bluth - Michael Cera.

There's something about this kid, his whole naive, neo-Dick Van Dyke act that gets to me. He's the perfect straightman; and his nervousness and inability to finish most sentences reminds me of a young, American Gervais.

Factor in the additional cast members, and it's like a smorgasbord, a homage if you will, of frat-pack wannabes: Jonah "ask me about my..." Hill, Bill Hader, Seth Rogen, and the one and only Joe Lo Truglio!

I also love the fact that this movie keeps up the pseudo-specific genre of "last night of high school" comedies. It all started with Dazed and Confused, moved quickly along to Can't Hardly Wait (Love Hewitt at her hottest, by far), and then we were forced to wait almost ten years for another coming-of-age, nerd-kid-gets-hot-girl-at-senior-party film. I for one can't wait.

If by some chance, you watch this trailer and think it's lame, you're right, it is. Do yourself a favor and watch the R-Rated version here. Yeah, you'll have to register, but seeing George Michael curse, and hearing Rogen say that owning a gun "is like having two cocks" is well worth it.

Mustache Mon Vol. SE7EN

2007-05-10T00:03:02Z

I can’t even remember where I saw the guy. TV, on something. All I know is I was so completely captivated by the man’s follicular breadth that I shot up, punched his name into my cellphone and collapsed. When I came to, I had a vision: the Flux…wait, no…LeRoy Neiman’s dazzling mustache.

Look at that thing. It’s gorgeous and new and different. Well, actually, it’s the same it’s been for 50-something years. But it’s new to me, different from anything else I’ve ever seen. Neiman’s a painter, does semi-abstract (I guess that’s a term?) paintings of animals and famous locales, athletes and actors, hobnobbed with everyone from Sinatra to Ali to Keith Hernandez. It’s clearly an artist’s stache, original and memorable. It makes an impression.

That thing’s got the wingspan of an albatross. It’s like he went to the fake mustache factory and pulled one off the assembly line before they had a chance to chop it into normal-sized fake mustaches. You always find these big ‘staches turning down, jackknifing toward the chin. Not this one. Maybe he was shaving his beard one day, started at the bottom working up, got to the upper lip level, liked what he saw, and left it. Or maybe it started standard and kept flaring wider, wider. Maybe just a little bit longer; That asshole Johnson's down the block is wider, I’ll show him; I think the right side’s a touch longer, better grow the left out to match; and on and on.

I guess the art snobs view this guy as a hack or something; not the real deal. ‘Stache envy manifests itself in the most childish of ways sometimes. Here’s some links to his stuff:

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2007-04-25T15:59:47Z

I think they left breathing and chewing off the list of complaints.

Things are beginning to heat up at your favorite E. 25th Street haunt, ladies and gents. Typically, in this day and age of walking on eggshells and mincing one's words, I would be expected to cull my "swearing and yelling." But that just wouldn't be any fun.

Crabby neighbors are a lot like crabby crotches. You can forget about them all you want, but it just takes one wild night to get them riled up and ready to rip your dick off. And, judging by the above note that was waiting for me Monday morning, I’m facing a Stage 5 genital mutilation from the chaste folks across the hall. More on this as it develops, should you care even the slightest bit.

Administrative notes: Yes, I've been on a bit of a hiatus. A trip to Vegas nearly ended me. But now I'm back and ready to be productive once again. And no, I have no idea why this entire site became italicized. As always, I blame Ben.

Lazy Sunday, Part 2

2007-04-19T00:45:45Z

Jesus, talk about a Web 2.0 media firestorm. Every blog and it's mother is talking about this video right now.

Genius move on Ferrell's part. There are so many video sites popping up these days, guaranteeing cool new features and ways to share video. Problem is, most of the content is fucking terrible. So, if you're already a famous comedic actor, you can easily trump all the programmers and computer geeks out there by simply being funny.

The site Ferrell and Adam McKay (writer of Talladega and Anchorman) created is called Funny or Die, and frankly, as sites go, it's a piece of shit. No functionality, slow as hell, and the rest of videos are pretty damn bad. Still though, they've already received funding from Seqouia Ventures (Google, YouTube, Yahoo, whatevs), and I can pretty much guarantee that your mom will have seen this clip by next week. Ferrell! Gold!

The one annoying thing I've noticed already popping up on a lot of comments I've read is the indignation of many that they used this kid in the video. A two-year old cursing and holding a beer. Oh my God! First of all, Pearl (her real name) is Adam McKay's daughter. Second, two year olds never remember anything they say. And third, McKay is LOADED! I'm sure he gives his daughter a pretty nice life.

Can I have four beers?

Mustache Monday: So it Goes

2007-04-18T02:28:03Z

Kurt Vonnegut

9.11.22—4.11.07

It’s obviously a little overdue, but the mustache community owes Kurt Vonnegut plenty, and I’m here to thank him.

I’m avoiding anything of the standard tongue-in-cheek stuff, as the death of an old writer is in no way funny, and the vicious death of 30-plus random innocents from a completely detached and inhuman lunatic is a gut-turning expression of the unadulterated evil that, chillingly, really does exist in this world. Not much is funny today. Not even mustaches.

So it goes.

Well, obviously some mustaches are funny, but certainly not Vonnegut’s. His, the classic writer’s mustache. Gray, at least towards the end, and long before his hair was. Semi-chunky, necessarily unkempt, but in a respectable manner. In that way, it was kind of like his writing style: nothing flashy or immediately eye-popping, seemingly passable as simply “everyday”, until you look into it a bit and realize it’s completely different from anything you’ve ever seen (or read, if I’m sticking with this sorry undeveloped metaphor). Substance trumping form. It might look like others you’ve seen, but it’s not. It’s got body and endurance and a charm all its own. I'm pretty sure I'm talking about the mustache right now. One thing's for sure: If he’s Kilgore Trout, that thing’s a lunker.

He stayed with it for years and years, never altering it—no, “I think I'm going for the Hitler this month, honey”—because it was good. It fit him. As anything but a preening academic type, he seemed to have the feel of the uncle with the spark in his eyes that pulls nickels from behind your ear. The ‘stache really completed that perfect, kind image, all bushy and benign. It’s a shame he’s not still trimming it. So it goes.

The Great White Reality

2007-04-11T00:14:01Z

I'm starting to think people don't talk about Tom Chambers enough, so I'm going to. He was awesome. He played at 6-foot-10, 230 pounds. He scored 60 points against the Sonics in 1990. He averaged 18.1 points per game for his career, 27.2 in 1989-90. He's Mormon.

And he had the greatest dunk ever.

A fast break. A give-and-go with KJ. Two steps. Mark Jackson gets pretty good defensive position. Devastation.

This is one of things that's really not possible to describe. Tolstoy couldn't do it justice. Just do yourself a favor and watch the clip below. And talk to somebody about Tom Chambers.

One in the Chambers, 32 in the Clip

See C Webb talk about the dunk, which apparently some shoddily pieced together Fox Sports Net show ranked #6 all-time.
The only thing better than this dunk over four Celtics is Hubie Brown and Dick Stockton on the call. Somehow Hubie never once brings up shooting percentages. Even though it's only a 15-second clip, I find this incredible.
Nifty reverse jam in traffic against the Lakers.
Fairly insane reverse alley-oop against the Celts, lob courtesy of KJ.

And by the way, with me lacking inspiration, Mustache Monday is on sabbatical this week.