Beer Pong was invented by the Devil

____I played beer pong for the first time last night and I am now unquestioningly convinced that beer pong was, in fact, invented by the devil. I'd seen the game played in various bars around the city but never wanted to be that guy who suggested to friends "hey! let's play that game. Yeah, the one with the beer and the cups and ... Oh yeah, balls!! c'mon! who doesn't love a good game played with balls??!". Last night, after my team's volleyball match, I was that guy - minus all the Brokebackian emphasis on "balls" of course. We had somehow found ourselves at what should probably only be described as a "beer pong bar". Fine... I'm familiar with the first and third words there, but "pong"? I know "pong" well, but only when associated with it's brother "ping". Anywhoo... As my team is wont to do and as wisely directed by the medical professionals, our team drinks many inhebriating beverages after our volleyball matches. Beer after sports? Strange, I know - that's how we roll though so dont question it. (sidenote: I kicked so much volleyball ass last night, everyone walked out in diapers)

____As we began to play the beer pong, something quickly dawned on me - beer pong is comically dangerous and should be probably be outlawed in most US States and territories. It is an abomination to any semblance of common sense you may have thought you had. It is a game designed by a cruel and spiteful evil entity with no real purpose other than to make people drink FAST ...and to make sure each player drinks at least a pitcher of beer in a very short time.

____For those who haven't played, the quick rules of the game are this: Your team and your opponents' have ten cups half filled with beer. You try to throw a ball into their cups to make them drink the now ping-pong-ball-dirtied-beer, they try the same at your cups. the last team with cups standing drinks all the remaining beer. There are other rules but you will quickly be too drunk to remember them.

____It's a game that blends the mind-blowingly intense excitement of throwing crumpled up paper into a trashcan with the pathological compulsion to drink for more than just "drinking's sake". Why? Because "it's fun!!" Fun like russian roulette is fun. Fun like pounding shots so you can see a stack of little empty glasses is fun. It's remarkably similiar to a game I just invented called: "you drink!" "ok, now YOU drink!" "ok ok... now YOU drink!! hee hee" "OK, done..! now you drink!". Sadly, my game is woefully devoid of balls.

____I ... almost threw up in my mouth just now when I saw this picture of a 100 cup variation of the game. From the wikipedia Beer Pong entry - my favorite parts: having a remarkably simple premise, the game has a great depth of skill and strategy with different kinds of shots, cooperative planning, and a large element of confrontational psychology. These elements combined with the debilitating effects of alcohol creates a complex alluring game, or as some say, a sport. ........... There may be up to two officials observing one game. These officials should be unbiased individuals competent in the rules of the game (just like Russian roulette should probably have unbiased officials) ............ [empty cups] should never be stacked upon each other, as dirt and dust from the bottom of the cups can contaminate the cups for the next game. Newbies to beer pong are notorious for committing this act. (ahem, it seems we were newbies last night) ........... Mesquite, Nevada held the World Series of Beer Pong from January 2 - 6, 2006. (Mesquite, Nevada had absolutely nothing better to do from January 2-6, 2006)
....see also: Beer distribution and formations
....see also: Blowing/fingering
....see also: this picture of a beer pong referee
...and of course, the online video game, beer pong so you can practice at work.

____All in all, we actually had a great night (imagine that: drinking + a lot of = great night) And as much as I just talked a lotta shite about beer pong.... umm... it was... objectively speaking even... well..... kinda fun.

Your weiner here,

....Just a few things I thought we should talk about as it seems we never really get any one on one time anymore. No, I dont really think the shower counts actually... and for the love of god, "dry rub" is a cooking term, Not a "how to" on dealing with me in the morning. Really, chaffing is just cruel, stop that.
....Seriously, we have more important things to discuss... like the state of your life. I know, you think you can run it better than something like me could - Yeah, how's that going for you? right... so listen up. I'm running the show from here on out. I know you think I've been running the show what with all the ladies always saying you think with me and not with your brain but if that were the case, you wouldn't cower in apologetic agreement every time the 'think with me / not with your brain' theory was thrown at you.
......Shut up. yes, you do.
....What I dont understand is why you dont embrace it. No.. not with your hands, I'm not talking about me right now... god'damn you're dense. For someone who always gets blamed for having a one track mind, YOU my friend, have the one track mind. No, what I mean is the phrase and what it means. This "mind" thing you humans were unfairly graced with? you know those? they were bestowed the amazing ability to think abstractly. As in "think with your weiner" need not always be about sex. I know, I know... that's historically what the phrase has referred to, you've studied your pop culture well. But are you following me here? great. we're going to give it another meaning.
....Wait, why am I becoming engor... Son Of A .... see??? that's what I'm talking about. Yes, I see you've spotted that ladies' breasts.. very good. What's funny is, I'm pretty sure you've seen them before. MmHmm. Yep. Lotsa ladies have them. Your mom had them even. They were your lifeline to nourishment for years. There ya go... release ... the .... excellent. let's continue.
....Let's start thinking of me, your loveable weiner and friend, as your drive. Ok, now you're trying hard to think of dirty joke involving the word "drive" aren't you? It's ok.... think away. Are you done? super.
....For too long now, everyone's thought of me as emblematic of your Id, the spoiled little baby inside you, constantly seeking only my own satisfaction. Freud wasn't a fool, there's some truth to that. But ohh, the times they are a'changin'... I needn't be just your sex drive or Poon-dar (trademark pending). I can be so much more! I can... you're still giggling about poon-dar, aren't you? It's ok... it's pretty clever, I know. Ok, SNAP snap! pay attention! Good. Like I was saying... I should now be known as... your drive... and your Ego. Grrr... Nooo... not L'eggo my Eggo stupid, Ego. I swear, how did you ever get out of high school?? The Ego, that part of the personality which maintains a balance between our impulses (id) and our conscience (superego). But more than just Ego, an Ego with drive! An Ego that gets shit done. An ego that yeah those are nice leg... Oh for the love of god. Seriously. I'm warning you.
....Let me be your self confidence. Let me be your machismo - fighting the battles you know you'll win, scaring people into thinking you'd win the ones you wouldn't. I, your weiner, can act as the firm handshake to the outstretched palm of your future employer. I can seal the deal on the tipsy midnight girl at the bar. The good looking one, even. Please, let me slap people in the face when they dont listen to you. I am your bodyguard that would laugh at people who need bodyguards. I am the Tyler Durden you never could be without me.
....It's impossible to know the benefits I, your weiner, can bring you, so in closing, please grow a pair - I could use the company. Once you do, I wont have to shoulder the entire burden of your oh so troubled life and you'll be able to help me a little with this 'getting what you want' thing. And ladies, dont pretend like I'm just talkin' to the guys... you all have one of me too, it's just inverted, tiny, almost impossible for most men to find and should probably be worshipped like a golden calf for all the power it commands.
....Ok, ok... I know... I got ya thinkin' about g-spots. fine.
engorge away.

Sincerely,
...Your Weiner

ps. I've been informed that this letter from me, your weiner, to you, random person... makes no sense. To this I say, piss off for correcting me and.... I completely agree. And that I reserve the right to not make sense. I am, after all, your weiner. Think about it. No, "it" does not mean your weiner, in this case. "it" means the logic of not making sense. Grr, fine. this didn't really explain anything, did it? But it's in red! Red text always makes things better!

A new blog for a new tomorrow... starting yesterday

+++And so it goes... it is time.

+++I'm tired of censoring myself. Sure, yes, ok... there is a time for censorship - like when you run a newspaper and have friends in government or... you decide on the books going into schools and library and of course, those times when anyone says something I dont agree with - when important situations like those arise, censor away, my friends. But not here, people... not on the web. the web is sacred, I think you know that.
+++ The web is a repository for truth, and only the truth - a place where 50 year olds can write like 15 year olds about issues only 20 year olds will ever find and read. A place where 32 year olds will respond to those writings and 29 year olds will respond to those responses saying how 36-year-old that last response was, thereby showing what a 25-year-old reactionary they really are, all the while maintaining their hardcore, 27-year-old revolutionary facade.
+++ ok, perhaps I mean the web is a suppository. A suppository of truth! Loosening the bowels of your mind. Dialating that glorious sphincter of information - that you may be well moved to release all that had been backing you up. Blockage gone - flow free my friends, flow freeee! This is the web.
+++ And so... I'm starting a new page here. Free from censorship, free from worry, free to be me and sing about it like an paint-sniffing, half-naked homeless man. I have no one and nothing in mind but the pursuit of comedy, truth, excellence and of course, money. I dont care what you think, unless you like what I write and/or want to give me money for it. I will, in such cases, change everything and sell out like a whimpering bitch. Honestly, it wont take much. $5 and I will be your word whore. Barring such selling of my soul for less money than it takes to buy a decent burrito, this medium will remain pure as freshly name-engraved snow. Free, I tell you, free! Free of your constant wordly word oppression, your ever-judgemental condemnations, your barage of helpful suggestions, your job offer after job offer after job offer. ..... strike that last one. those may continue.
+++ It is very true, unfortunately, that I am merely one man. One man to uphold what had been the faultering integrity and diminishing quality of the web. One man to provide solice to the comedy and thought starved. One man who can supplicate your tired limbs into silky, sexy relaxation with a soothingly sensual massage of wordy goodness. One man with one enormously long .... intellect. An intellect I keep in my pants. In my pants.... for you. all for you.

And so...! I conclude the first post of the rest of my mind with.... wait... Grrr!!! more bitter contempt for all things and people that might censor me! Hulk Mad!! like that. Yeah. How ya like me now??? P-tew (that was me trying to spit on you - sadly, it just dribbled down my chin). If I were a french aristocrat, I would slap you with a mongrammed glove. Then I would slap myself for being a french aristocrat. But I digress... and it's getting late... and I'm getting bored. So I'll leave you with the words of the Greek dramatist Sophocles* on the nature of sharing censoring opinions with those who might not want them:

Just cause you dont understand what's going on
dont mean it dont make no sense
And just 'cause you dont like it,
dont mean it aint no good
And let me tell you something
Before you go take a walk in my world
you better take a look at the real world
Cause this aint no Mister Rogers Neighborhood
.............And if I offended you, Oh i'm sorry
But maybe you need to be offended
well, here's my apology and one more thing
...FUCK YOU!!
Cause you - cant - bring - me - down!

* ehh... Sophocles / Suicidal Tendencies, I always get the two confused.