Thursday, May 31, 2007

If it's Not One Thing, It's an Otter...

Pardon the hiatus in posting while Rickey heads off to upstate New York to celebrate his five year college reunion. He’s filling his gas tank with petroleum distillate, re-vulcanizing his tires, and packing only his finest collegiate beanies in anticipation of this momentous occasion. In honor of the event, we here at RwR are taking up a collection to replace Rickey’s ailing liver. Indeed, it has come to this—feel free to contribute to the fund in whatever manner you feel fit. And if you happen to know a decent lawyer, that would be helpful as well (preferably one that specializes in breaking and entering, graffiti, and lemur endangerment cases).

Speaking of cute woodland animals, Rickey found this story to be profoundly amusing. Evidently the otterpocalypse is upon us. We would like to be the first to welcome our new otter overlords. See you folks on Monday (drunken exploits and marauding otters permitting).

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Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Your Weekly Linkage

Happy Tuesday you inglorious bastards. For the record, Rickey remembers very little from his Memorial Day Weekend …and is therefore doomed to repeat it.

Because inspiration typically runs low on the first day back following a three day weekend, we here at RwR have decided to throw up our arms, cry uncle, and offer up some links instead. Look, it’s sunny, there’s a cute family of squirrels running around outside Rickey’s office window, and quite frankly, we’re occasionally entitled to “phone it in” so that Rickey can go outside and frolic with squirrels.

So here are several items of interest to tide you over while chuckling at Jimmy Carter exhibiting Alzheimer’s symptoms. (Seriously folks, Rickey likes poor Jimmy Carter, but at what point does he turn up in an alfalfa field, horribly lost, insisting that he’s looking for Anwar Sadat?)

Holy hell, wild boars get this large? Ok, that does it, Rickey is never going in the woods unarmed again. And he’s definitely never going to Alabama.

A Tintin movie is in the works? No wait, three Tintin movies? Woot. Please excuse Rickey while he scampers away to dust off his old Herge books…

In belated honor of Star Wars turning 30 this past weekend, we proudly offer up The Vader Sessions. Much James Earl Jones related humor abounds after the jump.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, the Mets are now the undisputed best baseball franchise in the glorious State of New York.

As most of you are well aware, Rickey enjoys all things pickled. With that in mind, Rickey offers up a pickled radish recipe for all to read and attempt.

Evidently this whole “bring back a cancelled show” trend is starting to gain momentum. Still no word about the fledgling movement to bring back “Caroline in the City” however. Drat.

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Friday, May 25, 2007

It’s Friday wenches, is everyone ready for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend? Past experience has taught Rickey that holiday weekends can be difficult, grueling times. Make no mistake, this is not a weekend for the faint of heart. In the spirit of giving, Rickey thought he’d pass on some pearls of wisdom he’s acquired over the years. So have no fear barbeque planners, we’re here to help you this week with

Rickey’s Tips for Having a Keen Time at your Memorial Day Barbeque Outing

Be creative in your menu selection. Seek out your local emu farm, purchase an emu, dig a firepit in your back yard, then proceed to roast aforementioned emu on a spit. For bonus points, dance around the emu for a bit as it turns. Let’s see the Joneses top that awesomeness.

If the kids want to play a friendly game of "lawn dart chicken," then go ahead and let them (but only after ensuring that they are properly covered in bubble-wrap!)

Before the meal starts, always remember to kick things off with a prayer to the sun god, Ra.

If a friend or family member insists on wandering off to the car to listen to a baseball game on the radio, by all means do not interfere.

Your beverage selection is paramount. Devote most of your alcohol budget to Everclear (this may require traveling across state lines).

Be sure to nominate someone to be fire warden. Give them a fireman’s hat, stuffed Dalmatian & aerosol spray can and tell them to sit quietly in the corner. A risk management officer is probably a good idea as well.

Standard bug repellent no longer keeps pesky insects away. Make arrangements to have crop dusters fly over and spray your lawn every hour on the hour over the course of the barbeque.

Do not feed the family dog table scraps while at the table. Instead, invite your dog to stand directly on top of the table for guests to admire while they eat.

The proper music selection is paramount. Your playlist should include a well-rounded blend of Bloodhound Gang, Andrea Bocelli, White Zombie, and assorted Hans Zimmer theme songs.

If you have a pool, remember to stock it with a 3 to 1 ratio of snapping turtles and komodo dragons. (Stick to that ratio unless you want a feeding frenzy on your hands).

Open weeping at a barbeque is generally frowned upon, but if a guest feels the need, encourage them to sit in the coat closet while they do so.

Have fun! (Or at least as much fun as your risk manager deems appropriate).

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Thursday, May 24, 2007

In Which Rickey Makes Dumb Observations

Ok, Rickey is completely mystified vis a vis why ads for the “L-Word Jewelry Collection” keep on popping up on this site. A keyword search of this site yields no mention whatsoever of lesbians, jewelry, or even Showtime television shows. (Well until now anyway) And Rickey’s guessing that very few of his readers fit into the demographic that would be interested in purchasing jewelry inspired by a television show about lesbians. But Google in their infinite wisdom has apparently targeted this site as ground zero for the “L-Word Jewelry Collection” marketing campaign. So Rickey is confused to say the least.

But hey, if you’re hankering for something from “L-Word Jewelry Collection,” knock yourself right the hell out. To date, Rickey has earned a whopping $5.14 from Google AdSense, most of which we suspect will be gobbled up in taxes at the end of the year. Rickey pities the poor IRS agent responsible for trying to audit Rickey’s additional $5.14 in earned income when he files his taxes in the winter. Let’s just see Uncle Sam try and wrest Rickey’s hard earned $5.14 from him. Rickey ain’t declaring shit.

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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

This is where Rickey posts recommendations of noteworthy consumables, practices, and pastimes that have been deemed invaluable for the reader’s betterment. All products and advice listed herein have been Rickey tested and approved. Again, this is in no way shape or form a complete rip off of McSweeney’s (fa-la-la-la-la, lawyers, Rickey can’t hear you). Enjoy this week's installment of


Washing your hair daily. Beware: some individuals may attempt to convince you to wash it every other day. These people are morons. Listen to them only if you’re a big fan of unkempt greasiness. Or from Long Island.

Clementines. Confused? They’re basically mini-oranges. They’re easier to peel than their larger citric brethren, easier to manage as a snack, and easier to store in your pocket without fear of oozage. And, needless to say, Rickey finds their taste superb. If your domicile lacks clementines, then the task of acquiring them has now become a “run-don’t-walk” kind of situation.

“Beyond” By Dinosaur Jr. After a nineteen year hiatus, the grandfathers of alternative music are back. What more can Rickey say about this band that hasn’t already been said by more knowledgeable folks? How about “this band is so goddamned good it’ll break your brain”? Does that work for you?

Wheat Flakes with Yogurt Clusters. Damn tasty stuff. It makes the Quaker Oatmeal guy look like an impotent little punk. Add some chopped up banana and skippy, you’ve got yourself a balanced breakfast going on.

A Made Bed. Rickey never thought it mattered, but Ms. Henderson has managed to completely reverse his opinion on the subject. A made bed really does tie the room together. 2007 is the year of made beds in the Henderson apartment.

Chicken Pot Pie. Sometimes Rickey likes to keep it simple—you know, meat and potatoes sort of stuff. Forty five minutes in the oven is an eternity to wait for this savory lazy man’s delight, but oh boy is it worth it. Gold miners and truck drivers everywhere concur: chicken pot pie is the balls.

Keeping tabs on your nemesis. Everyone has one, and you damn well need to know who yours is, where they are, and what they’re up to at all times. Rickey maintains a fluctuating list of nemeses, but the primary one happens to be Richard Nixon’s godson. That fucker’s still out there, scheming…

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Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Your Weekly 24 Update

So… The biggest shock from the entire season finale of “24” was that Morris is fertile. Drat. For the record, Rickey really was expecting Tony to pop up at the end. No such luck apparently. Not to belabor the obvious, but if this season had been as decent as any of the previous seasons, no one would be whining right now. But due to the overwhelming mediocrity that permeated season six, fans needed a lot more than what they got last night.

Don’t get Rickey wrong, the suspense of watching Rickey Schroeder sit at a picnic bench for forty five minutes was just fan-freaking-tastic. And the drama of a teenager being dragged to China by his grandfather is truly riveting stuff. But hey, Josh showed a lot of moxie by standing up to Farmer Bauer like that at the end. One can’t help but wonder what Josh Bauer’s fourteen other personalities are going to be like once they grow up.

Look, if we forget the previous twenty hours of this season, last night could kind of qualify as a passable ending. The last few minutes of the episode with Jack and Heller were terrific—hands down the best (and possibly only) acting of the season. The last shot of Kiefer looking out into the ocean sets up Jack Bauer as his own man, thus hopefully changing the dynamic of the whole show.

So yes, after mulling things over, Rickey dug the ending. It was an emotional shocker to see Jack alone, bitter, broken-hearted and undoubtedly pissed off beyond all measure of belief. Any time the camera focuses in on Jack looking like he’s about to seriously loose it, it’s a major punch in the gut. And best of all, this whole “crossroads” motive definitely opens the door for a fresh start nest season. Overall however, it’s still not enough to redeem a very sub par story arc however.

Did we really have to sit through twenty lousy hours of tv only to be promised at the very end, “hey, we screwed up, but we’ll fix it next season”? So to sum up, here’s Rickey’s scorecard for this past season of “24”:

Jack biting necks and hanging terrorists: Great.

Jack getting arrested forty-seven times by Ricky Schroeder: Not Great.

Fathers killing sons: Good.

Fathers not killing sons, leaving behind cell phone numbers: Not Good.

Bombs going off: Good.

Bombs not going off: Not Good.

Nadia and the Widow Bauer: Hot.

Audrey and Morris: Not Hot.

Everything in Washington D.C. (outside of the acting skills of Powers Boothe and Peter MacNicol): Horrible.

And jebus, Tony Almeida not returning hurts big time—especially considering the fact that there was a rumor floating around that a major player would make a surprise appearance during the last few minutes. Rickey is willing to begrudgingly overlook Tony not coming back, but come on: couldn’t the writers give us something? Couldn’t the mystery guest have been Chase, Palmer, Henderson, Chappelle, or even the cougar from season two? The cougar would’ve totally worked. He rolls up in a van, growls, and the subtitle reads "Jack, get in!" The cougar has much to explain about his night with Kim in the woods...

Bear in mind that this letdown of a season will seem like a distant memory once the previews for the new season pop up during FOX postseason baseball. And you know damn well that Rickey will see you folks in January 2008, crazy as ever.

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Monday, May 21, 2007

Rickey's Weekend Running Diary (Of Doom)

Happy Monday folks. Rickey’s back from a weekend Bat-Mizvah in Williamstown and would like to share some of it with you. Now Rickey’s already been there once (proceed here for a recap) but this time, things got even wilder. Generic prose is far too constraining to describe Rickey’s bizarre weekend in Massachusetts. So Rickey decided to keep a running diary of the whole damn thing and present it to you folks. Enjoy.

Friday, 9:12AM: Rickey wakes up from a restful night’s sleep, thanks the heavens that it’s his Friday off from work, and decides to call the bed and breakfast in Williamstown he’s booked a room at to inquire if they have an iron that Rickey can utilize to press his shirt. After being informed that due to a computer glitch, his room was given away and that he now has to spend the weekend at a motel, Rickey quietly excuses himself from Ms. Henderson’s presence, closes the door, and utters the phrase “Mass-holes.” (This is not the last time this phrase will be employed by Rickey over the course of the weekend).

Friday, 12:10PM: While driving northbound on I-87, Rickey hears Ms. Henderson curse loudly (an extremely rare occasion). Apparently she has left an article of clothing at the apartment. Rickey assures Ms. Henderson that there must be shopping centers along the way in Troy, NY that will prove useful. Oh how horrifically wrong Rickey is.

Friday, 1:33PM: The arrival at Troy. Jebus, Rickey had forgotten how awful this town was. Imagine Baltimore from “The Wire,” (starring shiftless white folks instead of disenfranchised African-Americans) and you’ve got a basic idea of what Rickey’s talking about. It’s pretty grim. And why are so many upstate NY towns named after cities in ancient Greece? Did gladiators land in upstate NY before anyone else discovered it?

Friday, 1:45PM: Now completely lost amidst this aging rust belt city of tenement housing and seedy bars, Rickey decides to ask a local for directions to the nearest mall. The poor guy helps Rickey out, surmises that Rickey isn’t a local, then gives Rickey the “dear god take me with you” look. Rickey thanks the good samaritan, then drives away before the situation deteriorates into something resembling the U.S. Embassy’s hasty evacuation from Saigon.

Friday, 2:30PM: The less said about the mall the better. It’s like Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead,” minus the sharp social commentary. What Ms. Henderson finds is just marginally better wearing a barrel with straps.

Friday, 4:00PM: Having arrived in Williamstown, MA and checked into the motel, Rickey brilliantly sidesteps a dinner amidst geriatric Jews by seeking out a nearby bar that is showing the Subway Series. Asking around for a bar carrying DirectTV proves interesting as the locals mutter something about a fire consuming the previous bar while gazing at Rickey distantly. Strange things are afoot in Williamstown, MA.

Friday, 7:18PM: Why won’t the local Indian restaurant put on the Mets game? This Bollywood stuff is creeping Rickey out.

Friday, 7:49PM: Success! “The Catcher’s Mound” pub in North Adams carries the Mets game. (We’d post a link to their website, but oddly enough, none exists). This bar is essentially the scariest environment imaginable: dark, thumping from unnecessarily loud music, and full of sullen BoSox fans wearing camouflage and drinking something horrifically bad known as Amber Boch. “Life’s been Good to Me” blasts over the stereo, despite the fact that for most of the population of North Adams, MA, it clearly hasn’t. Ms. Henderson sits next to Rickey nervously clutching her purse the whole time. Taking a break from being verbally abusive to his girlfriend, one BoSox fan leans over and asks Rickey when the Mets last won the World Series. Wow, just wow.

Friday, 10:25PM: The Mets win and the Hendersons bolt for the car. But not before rolling down the window to yell: “Mass-Hoooooooles!” as they speed away. This has now become Rickey’s favorite word in the English Lexicon.

Friday, 11:13PM: Sleep. (The Hendersons are tired from their long day).

Saturday, 9:00AM: The Bat-Mitzvah. For the record, Rickey is very thankful none of this was ever inflicted upon him when he was a wee lad. The bagels and lox are brought out and good times ensue.

Saturday, 1:12PM: With time to kill before the evening festivities, Rickey, Ms. Henderson, and her sister take a trip to the Mass Mocha to see some modern art. The museum’s central exhibit is a video of an eccentric portly fellow prancing around a huge empty theater shirtless with a German cross painted on his chest, doing the Nazi salute. And what sounds like “The Doors” is playing in the background while the guy’s mother looks on from the stage. Rickey’s strangely hypnotized by all this. When asked, Ms. Henderson refuses to allow this man to ordain their wedding. Drat.

Saturday, 6:00PM: While pre-gaming in the motel room with Red Bull vodkas for the evening’s Bat-Mitzvah party, Rickey quietly determines that this will be the best night of his adult life. Besides, the Mets are whomping on the Yanks yet again, what could possibly ruin the night?

Saturday, 9:10PM: We’ll tell you what could ruin the night: vodka tonics, awful red wine, and the sudden & inexplicable urge to dance (quite badly).

Saturday, 9:30PM: Apparently DJs don’t like it when people storm up to them and belligerently demand that “The Hustle” be played. Nonetheless, “The Hustle” is indeed played.

Saturday, 9:47PM: A unique combination of red wine, asparagus, and roast beef now covers 71% of the men’s room. Rickey quickly decides that since the bathroom of the Williams Faculty House now looks like an abattoir, it’s probably time to call it a night. But not before interpreting Ms. Henderson’s command of “clean it up” as “rinse out your mouth and fix your hair then we’ll go home.”

Saturday, 11:45PM: Darkness.

Sunday, 3:24AM: Oh god.

Sunday, 5:08AM: It hurts when Rickey blinks.

Sunday, 8:00AM: Surrounded by Mass-Holes at a local diner, Rickey munches on the worst corned beef hash known to mankind, hoping that the grease can make him feel somewhat human again.

Sunday, 11:00AM: Sitting at a send off breakfast, Rickey is informed for the umpteenth time that the elderly folks at the Bat-Mitzvah just loved Rickey. This is most likely because being old, they all called it a night well before Rickey unleashed hell in the Williams Faculty House bathroom. So yes, while the elderly dig Rickey, everyone else has most likely surmised that he's carrying the Ebola Virus.

Sunday 12:00PM: 70mph is a respectable speed for the Taconic Parkway, no? Apparently not for the police officer brimming with gravitas who promptly tickets Rickey and sends the Hendersons on their very un-merry way.

Sunday, 2:00PM: The clouds part, the sun comes out and things are looking up for Rickey once again …until Rickey pulls in to the apartment to see that (wait for it… wait for it…) …his car has been hit by someone while he left it parked at the apartment over the weekend. Fortunately it’s just a dent and the person was nice enough to leave their number. When asked by he’s so calm about the accident, Rickey thinks back to last week’s mishap, shakes his head and smiles.

Sunday, 4:10PM: Blessed time with the Halo 3 Beta brings Rickey’s eventful weekend to a merciful close.

Believe it or not, this running journal acutally omits a few embarassing details. Look for a forthcoming column from Ms. Henderson summarizing this past weekend, entitled “The Airing of Grievances.”

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Thursday, May 17, 2007

What? It's Rickey's Halloween Costume...

Feeling underwhelmed by this summer's movie lineup? Rickey is as well. Spidey 3 was both overwrought and underwhelming, and the new Pirates of the Carribbean movie sounds like it suffers from the same problems. And frankly, the less said about Shrek the better (sorry Ms. Henderson).

But you moviegoers definitely need to take a gander at this: the new trailer for Transformers. Holy mary mother of Frank. Tie Rickey to a tree and call him Betty. Part his hair with a pork chop. That's one fucking fantastic looking movie. Rickey was one of the many skeptics about this project at first, but goddamn does this looks like a super happy fun time--especially for a 27 year old man-child like Rickey.

Giant robots stomping around and tearing shit up? And it's directed by Michael Bay, the guy who directed "Armageddon" and "The Rock"? (Rickey's not even kidding, for some insane reason, he really enjoys "Armageddon"). What more could you ask for? This is Rickey's current pick for the only decent blockbuster of the summer.

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...Er, is that a Cosby Sweater?

Yikes. So is Lastings going for the goofy, “so-unhip-it's-cool” Andre 3000 vibe with the argyle sweater, or does his mother dress him? As many have undoubtedly heard, Lastings Milledge has managed to rile up the Met fanbase once again. And this time around, the action in question is even wackier than when he taped pictures of Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire and Jay Buhner to his locker during spring training. Indeed, it's even worse than that...

Lastings Milledge, brilliant entrepreneur that he is, recently released a rap album with some naughty lyrics. Unsurprisingly, the entire Mets nation has collectively gone apeshit in the past 24 hours, and now Lastings appears to be all but destined to be playing in Boston by the end of the season. Lovely. So clearly, MLB needs to nip this whole debacle in the bud. Baseball obviously can't abide young black men expressing themselves. (Yes, that’s a little Thursday morning snark for you folks who haven't had your AM coffee just yet).

Look, we can all agree that Shawn Green certainly isn't the future of rap, yes? So Rickey figures that Lastings might as well go for it. And as a really really white Met fan, Rickey has only one question: can he hit a freaking curveball? If the answer is yes, then this entire debate is moot. Moot Rickey says! Besides, all this hubub is eating up time that would be much better spent morning the world's tragic loss of Jerry Falwell.

So all you Mets fans who would prefer to see “Ride of the Valkyries” used as Billy Wagner’s intro song can relax, take a deep breath, and return to lamenting Omar Minaya’s decision to fill the roster with geriatric Hispanics. And here’s to hoping that Milledge's second album includes a song vulgarly lashing out at Mike and the Mad Dog. Rickey would buy that one for sure.

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Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Rickey's Williamstown Odyssey

This weekend, Rickey has the unique pleasure of driving up to quaint Williamstown for a bat mitzvah honoring one of Ms. Henderson’s relatives. This is not Rickey’s first visit to this charming college community. Back in his college days Rickey once drove to visit a high school buddy of his at Williams. Rickey has fond (if slightly patchy) recollections of his pilgrimage to Williamstown. Fragmentary memories of the weekend that Rickey is able to piece together include:

  • Kicking off the night with belligerent rounds of vodka shots.

  • The repeated use of the word “amazing.”

  • [scene missing]

  • Riding through the woods in a Jaguar driven by someone wearing driving gloves, simultaneously blasting opera music, and tossing hallucinogenics into his mouth.

  • Having to be dissuaded from bringing a stray cat into a dorm room.

  • Somehow losing a wallet in a McDonald’s ballpit.

  • [scene missing]

  • Challenging a Williams dorm RA to a fire extinguisher duel.

Sadly, there won’t be any similar shenanigans this time around. Behaving like the village idiot in some early Irish American novel is generally frowned upon at bat mitzvahs. Additionally, it also happens to be Ms. Henderson’s birthday this weekend, which requires Rickey to avoid participating in the kind of silliness mentioned above.

But on the plus, side, Rickey does get to experience the unadulterated thrill of driving through aging rust belt towns such as Troy, NY. So, um, yay for that. And as long as Rickey is able to wrangle periodic updates on the Subway Series (in a cruel twist of fate, Rickey won a raffle for Mets/Yanks tickets on the Mets website that he cannot use) everything should be hunkey dorey. We hope. Pray for Rickey.

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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Stadium...

Well maybe not so much “funny” as much as “severely fucked up beyond all quantifiable measure of belief.” But the catchy referential title works better.

Anyway, Rickey takes it all back. He freaking loves his Volvo. Loves it. A 1990 740GL has many redeeming qualities, the major one being that it's essentially a tank sans the treads. This proves useful when say, some misbegotten madman in a hurry cuts across several lanes on the Grand Central Parkway, loses control of his car, clips a BMW (which then slams into your rear bumper) and flips his vehicle over on it’s side.

Here’s how it happened: Rickey was traveling with Ms. Henderson’s sister to Shea, they were almost to the Northern Blvd. exit for the stadium when all sorts of silliness breaks loose in Rickey’s rear view mirror. A seriously large bump is felt in Rickey’s Volvo and he turns around to see something that appears to be a car sliding along the pavement on its side. Rickey gets control of his trusty Volvo, pulls over to the side, noticing that somehow oil has been sprayed all over his automobile.

Both thankfully ok, Rickey and Ms. Henderson’s sister hop out, run over to the car lying on its side and try to get the driver to turn off his engine (this is generally a sound idea when your car is lying on its side and leaking oil). Unfortunately, for some reason, the words “turn off your engine!” were interpreted by this curious fellow as “honk your horn repeatedly, speak only in Hebrew, and whatever you do, don’t turn off your engine!” After a few minutes of this fun filled back and forth, the language barrier was broken, and the engine finally turned off.

And then a John Woo style gunfight broke out, an apache helicopter showed up, and Rickey stowed away in the chopper’s landing gear as it was taking off, holding onto the bars like some crazed koala. (Ok, fine, we might’ve made that last part up).

Anyhow, the ambulance and firemen finally show up, remove the driver from his flipped over car, get the other driver out of her BMW, tend to them both, and the cops take a statement from Rickey and Ms. Henderson’s sister who then head off to Shea. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. And other than being covered in oil and having a slightly smudged bumper from the impact of the BMW, Rickey’s Volvo is totally fine. And Rickey also learned that Ms. Henderson’s sister kind of has a thing for firemen. Okey dokey, fearing a beating, we’re moving on.

So, um, Rickey Recommends: Not perishing in a fiery automobile accident?

Our apologies to anyone who finds the decision to post this story ghoulish, but Rickey finds it very cathartic to get this all off his chest. Bully for you if you disagree. Rickey took the picture seen here on his cell phone for insurance reasons. And Rickey would like to clear up any possible misconceptions by saying that no, he’s not one of those types from that awful David Cronenberg movie “Crash” who intentionally get into car accidents for kicks.

Needless to say, tailgating in the Shea Stadium parking lot was very necessary before entering the stadium. Because nothing says “it’s good to be alive” quite like pounding Coronas in a public parking lot then ambling in to Shea to watch a Mets game. And how about the Mets with the walk in the bottom of the 9th inning to win the game? In Rickey’s eyes, the Mets winning thanks to a zany walk was really the only way the night could possibly have ended.

…well that or accidentally driving through the EZ Pass lane on the way home and now facing two points on his driver’s license and a $90 ticket. Take your pick.

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Monday, May 14, 2007

Rickey's Weekly "24" Roundup

Meanwhile, in the "24" universe, there's a rumor floating around that a certain well-liked character is returning to "24" at the end of this season. (Praise be to Amy Vernon for alerting Rickey to this development). Rickey will say no more for fear of ruining the surprise for you "24" fans who prefer not to be spoiled. But c'mon, you know you want to click the link... It's totally worth it. Go on, push the button.

Link! Link! Link! Link!

Logistically, the rumor being floated is kind of a head scratcher, so if anyone has any idea how this is even remotely possible, please be sure to let Rickey know. Since she started watching "24," Ms. Henderson very emphatically stated that this was not a possibility. And she's right: in the physical universe that we inhabit, this shouldn't be possible. So unless "24" went out and rounded up the zany "Lost" writing crew, you can treat this rumor with a grain of salt for now.

Anyhow, lets move on to Rickey's musings on Monday night's episode. A solid episode overall, but the award for most blatant product placement ever must undoubtedly go to Cisco. Yes, Rickey's read the tech articles on Cisco's snazzy new line of teleconferencing "presence" systems, and yes, he's impressed. But come on now...

The only way they could have possibly been less subtle would be to have VP Daniels pause and tell the Russian president "oh excuse me while I take a sip of refreshing, ice cold Coca Cola--ah... now back to business". Rickey knows that tv shows are trying to make up for ads being skipped over thanks to Tivo, but between this and the recent Lexapro placement on "The Sopranos," things are spinning wildly out of control. Besides, how many IT professionals are really looking to shows like "24" and "The "Sopranos" for new ideas on making their offices more technologically efficient? Not too many we're guessing.

Anyway, two more hours and our national nightmare is over. Rickey's still dying to know what exactly Wayne Palmer gave up in exchange for Jack's release. Rickey's guessing that the Chinese would only release Jack if Wayne Palmer was made president, thereby guaranteeing that the U.S. would be completely incapbable of dealing with any crisis that might arise in the future.

And for all you NY viewers, did anyone else stay tuned after "24" ended to see the "it's 10pm, do you know where your children are?" blurb delivered by a grizzled creepy Joe Pantaliano in a cowboy hat? Dear god, hopefully nowhere near that man...

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This is where Rickey posts recommendations of noteworthy consumables, practices, and pastimes that have been deemed invaluable for the reader’s betterment. All products and advice listed herein have been Rickey tested and approved. Enjoy this week's installment of


Watching out for squirrels. Granted, they’re kind of cute but consider yourself warned: those furry fuckers are planning something.

Cheryl Hines. Hot hot hot. And the only reason Rickey didn’t throw himself out the window when “RV” was broadcasted on tv recently. Has the world finally had it’s fill of Robin Williams’ perpetually bland comedies? Rickey thinks so…

Dropping Mo Rivera from your fantasy baseball team. Even in 2004 this would’ve been a great idea. Rickey is just now waking up to the fact that the market is flooded with good closers. Besides, this may be heresay, speculation, rumor, whathaveyou, but word 'round the playground is: yankees suck.

Tracking down a local brewery in your area and getting a tour of the joint. Trust us, you’ll be glad you did. There’s only one near Rickey, but man is it good. The best part? Lacking a bottling center, Rickey’s nearby brewery sells their beer in a large glass jug called a “growler,” which we’re assuming derives its name from something having to do with pirates. We think.

Hot Fuzz. A satirical action romp through a small British village written and performed by two guys who have seen far too many police movies. So far, it’s Rickey’s pick for best movie of 2007. Any movie that refers repeatedly to “Point Break” and employs the phrase “by the power of Greyskull!” deserves your hard earned money, end of story.

The Fratellis. A foot-stompingly good British pop rock band. Don’t like the genre? Given ‘em a listening to, you just might afterwards. They’re a whole lot better than Fall out Boy, that’s for damned sure. For those in a hurry, “Baby Fratelli” is the best track on the album.

Last night’s Sopranos. If you’ve seen it, you’re now well aware that the show still has teeth. Tony tripping on peyote at the roulette table with his dead nephew's Vegas hooker…? Well it’s safe to say no one saw any of that coming. Until last night, the idea of Tony killing Christopher was about as plausible as Carmella saying “Tony, please take it back! I don't need any more jewelry!”

Alec Baldwin. Honestly now, who really cares how he treats his offspring? The man is a terrific comedic actor, Social Services be damned. When Rickey has a kid (assuming it’s a boy) you better believe that he’ll be throwing left handed pitches in the backyard. No dinner until Rickey has seen 50 fastballs and 50 curveballs. What, is this not a reasonable manner of rearing one’s children?

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Thursday, May 10, 2007

Your Weekly Linkage

What? Cats with sniper rifles amuse Rickey... Not to beat a dead horse, but the best part about Clemens being a Yankee again is that it totally rejuvenates the anti-yankee fanbase. We Yank haters were getting a little tired of ragging on the sorry likes of A-Rod, Jeter, and Posada. Now that Clemens is back it feels great to root against a real bad guy once again. With that in mind, here are several items to interest you while pondering your dream last night. of Rickey. nude. standing at the foot of your bed. chanting... yankees suck!

In hopes of starting off strong, Rickey proudly presents the all-time Top 10 QVC mishaps. Humor abounds within these videos.

Ooops, a few songs from the new Guns N’ Roses album got leaked and can now easily be obtained via your file sharing program of choice. Based on these four songs, “Chinese Democracy” seems poised to make Kris Kross’ “Jump” look like the Beatles’ “Revolver.” And sixteen years to make an album is ridiculous to say the least. Highway 61 Revisited? Recorded in six days.

Yesterday was Jack Bauer Appreciation Day? Damnit, why didn’t anyone tell Rickey?

Speaking of appreciation for tireless civil servants, we are currently in the midst of Nurses Week. So thanks very much, modern descendents of Florence Night-triangle. (One of Rickey’s more intelligent buddies called her that in the midst of a drunken game of Trivial Pursuit).

You finally have a reason to travel to Minnesota. Wilco is appearing on the Prairie Home Companion this weekend (which is now broadcasted online by the way). Woot.

Praise be to Jesus! It’s the Golgotha La-Z-Boy! (how much does it rock that there's a website called “Jesus of the Week”?!) If Rickey sits in one of these while watching the Mets, they’ll go on a winning steak, right?

And while we’re on the subject of the Metropolitans, were you aware that they collectively went crazy and shaved their heads in a showing of team camaraderie? Here’s what Samson (ahem, David Wright) now looks like.

In other Mets news, Ms. Henderson has announced that she can no longer root for Shawn Green due to his newly shorn look. And you know what? She's on to something here folks. Unless they want to look like Holocaust survivors, Jews just shouldn't get their heads shaved.

One ticket to hell please, first class...

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Wednesday, May 9, 2007

Rickey Returns?

As someone in the comments section pointed out, it has become necessary to comment on Rickey’s interest in returning to Major League Baseball. So here we go. First off, Rickey isn't playing ball because Rickey doesn't want to play ball. If Rickey wanted to play, Rickey would. No one says no to Rickey, except for Rickey. If Rickey wants to play cards in the dugout when he’s not at bat then that’s what Rickey’s gonna do. Rickey knows when to hold ‘em and Rickey knows when to fold ‘em. Maybe Rickey is dangerously close to “Surreal Life” territory but Roger Clemens has already leapt into that realm. If Clemens is getting paid than Rickey is gonna get paid too. And did you know that Rickey's actually one year younger than Julio Franco? That's right, Rickey will be seeing you suckers in Spring Training, 2008. And yes, Rickey still holds grudges.

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Pardon our Dust

Like most of you, Rickey occasionally finds himself needing some extra cash to satisfy his cockfighting habit. So in the name of entrepreneurialism (read: unbridled internet shilling), we’re trying out this Google AdSense thing.

For the uninitiated, Google AdSense "is a fast and easy way for website publishers of all sizes to display relevant, unobtrusive Google ads on their website's content pages and earn money." Those are Google’s words, not ours--Rickey isn’t good at writing cheerfully capitalistic prose.

Now legally, Rickey can’t actually tell you to actually click any of the ads that may appear on this site. It’s kind of a no-no. But since the advertisements are automatically generated from keyword content written on this very site, rest assured that any ads that appear here will indeed qualify as “Rickey Approved.” And what might these ads be promoting? Well given the diverse range of topics Rickey likes to delve into, here are some of the products we’re expecting to see listed:

  • Local smoked fish mongers

  • Volvo owners clubs

  • “Fantasy Baseball for Dummies”

  • Meerkat husbandry programs

  • Obscure indie bands

  • History Channel WWII shows

  • Lots and lots of Mets crap

  • Lots and lots of “24” crap

  • Viva PiƱata walkthroughs

  • “How to” books on cockfighting

On a sidenote, let’s take a moment to discuss the whole cockfighting thing. Rickey has already explained this to the police. He doesn’t even live at that house. He’s never there. Unless there’s a cockfight going on. But it’s not as if Rickey organizes that stuff. It’s very spontaneous and free-flowing. Everything clear now? Good.

Assuming Rickey hasn’t already violated Google’s program policies (entirely possible), look for ads to show up here in a few days.

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Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Your 24 Roundup

As this season of “24” stumbles to the finish line, Rickey will once again strap on his adult diaper and crank out a write up on this week's mildly thrilling episode of “24.” So sit back, relax (well, as much as humanly possible while watching this show) and enjoy the ridiculous plot twists. Eh, look, it could be much worse—you could be a “Star Trek” geek and be faced with the dilemma of deciding which crappy spin-off series to follow. (Or do you have to follow all of them?) Ugh, anyway, count your blessings. Below are several brief thoughts on Monday’s show:

  • Can we get by just one season without a CTU breach? Honestly now, it’s easier to get into than Lisa Miller's pants. Climb in the sewers, blow up a grate, and hello everybody, here we are! Completely ridiculous.

  • Rickey finds it fantastic that the writers seem to have totally given up and essentially told Powers Boothe: “You know what? Just act like that Deadwood guy and glower a lot, ok?”

  • It’s only been a few short weeks since Data from “The Goonies” went crazy at VA Tech. Did it absolutely have to be a group of gun wielding Asians that stormed CTU? Too soon “24” writers, too soon…

  • Nadia? Still quite hot (even under duress).
  • We now know why the writers of “24” brought Milo back. So they could kill off another series regular. Oddly enough, his death had no emotional impact whatsoever… And on the plus side, we now get to watch Nadia dating Mike Doyle while trying her hardest not to laugh at the fact that she’s hooking up with a character played by Ricky Schroeder.

  • And was anyone else predicting that Chloe was the person the Chinese were after? Think about it—Chloe gets kidnapped & tortured, agrees to help the terrorists, thus leveling the playing field between her and Morris and allowing them to get back together again. Sure it’s silly, but it would’ve been more probable than Jack’s kid being the target.

  • Rickey is calling it now: after remembering that he left his jade plant and “succeed” poster back at CTU, Bill Buchanan will return to the office and use his decisive management skills to save the day. (Rickey and Ms. Henderson have vowed to stop watching the show if they don’t bring back Bill next week).

And so goes another sub par episode of “24.” Saddened? No worries, Rickey knows how to salvage the season. It involves the return of Tony, six wolves, a ray gun that allows people to levitate large objects (which then explode), and the murder of Jack Bauer followed by the introduction of the Jack Bauer cloning lab where eighteen Jack Bauers have been growing in tubes, and three of which are evil!

In all seriousness, the current rumor is that next season they reboot “24” and ship it off to NYC. Sounds promising. The potential downside to doing this is that the 5pm to 6pm hour would involve Jack stuck in traffic for an hour on the L.I.E:

“Jack, there's a jackknifed tractor trailer ahead. Ten mile delay!”


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Monday, May 7, 2007

Roger Clemens is a Yankee again. For a mere $28 million for 4 months work (that’s about $900,000 per game) the Yanks have reacquired this seemingly ageless pitching wonder for the 2007 season. That’s odd, Rickey had totally expected Clemens to challenge himself by signing with the Toronto Blue Jays… We can safely assume that the contract includes a provision for a Viking burial for Clemens midfield at Yankee stadium, yes? And where is poor Carl Pavano to comment on all this?

The best part? Signing Clemens doesn’t make a lick of sense. He’s 45 and went 7-6 last season. What kind of production are the Yanks expecting from this guy? You’re kidding yourself if you think he’s even a six inning pitcher. And oh yes, lest we forget, MLB still has that pesky steroid testing policy in effect. In an era of constant drug testing, Clemens will show his age after a mere two pitching starts. More importantly, isn’t Clemens scared a little? Rickey would like to point out that pitching for the Yankees this season is the baseball equivalent of playing drums for Spinal Tap.

So what’s the next shoe to drop in this ridiculous soap opera? Well look for the Astros to quietly release one baseball player by the name of Cody Clemens from their farm system. Followed by Cashman snatching him up the next day. Quick, is Nolan Ryan doing anything these days? And who’s that emerging from the dugout? Why it’s the ghost of Joe DiMaggio floating out to play centerfield for the Bronx Bombers. Rickey is predicting it now.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, the Mets continue to play solid baseball…

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Wednesday, May 2, 2007

You Weekly Linkage

Happy Wednesday folks. (Or “hump day,” if you will). Here are a few items of interest that you may have missed while debating whether to wear a tuxedo, top hat, cane, monocle, and spats for your upcoming job interview.

Well the annual rumbling to fire Joe Torre has been quelled for the moment. Does anyone believe that old balls Steinbrenner still has any sway in the Yankees organization? For the record, Larry David was a much better Steinbrenner than Steinbrenner ever was.

And while we’re speaking of Larry David, Rickey has a casting suggestion for the inevitable Spiderman 4 movie. Larry David as the Vulture. Look at the pictures of those two--its genius and you freaking know it.

And while we’re speaking of Spiderman, Rickey recommends seeing the new Spidey flick on one of those newfangled six story tall IMAX screens. Sure the lines will be awful, and when Rickey saw “300” in IMAX he was subjected to the ghastly sight of Spartan nipples the size of his Volvo, but whatever, it’s worth it no?

The NY Times analyses 80 different gin martinis in search of the most flavorful concoction. Yep, that’s just what the world needs to see—Maureen Dowd sloshed on gin martinis.

Good news for you eccentrics amongst us: they’re making a movie out of Chuck Palahniuk's book, “Choke.” Nice stuff. Palahniuk’s new novel, “Rant” hits bookshelves today by the way.

Ok, there must be better uses for a burrito than this. And more importantly, what kind of man gets dressed up as Captain America and goes on a pub crawl? Even in a bar environment, some random guy dressed up as Captain America is about as attractive to women as a miscarriage.

And finally, Eric Boehlert over at Media Matters has a terrific write up on John Edwards’ $400 haircuts and the sorry state of press coverage in the U.S. Give it a read--insightful political commentary is good for the soul.

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