Lucy the Blog

Hoosiers and Heels give Hillary the Gooseface.  Yes we can, oh yes we can can.

Because the Beast Master is presently confined to his courtside luxury suite, please allow Lucy the Dog to offer her uninformed analysis of Number 43’s performance after 12 minutes of basketball.

Perk is totally a beast.

And furthermore… 

Continue reading Celtics-Hawks Game 7 Update, 1st Quarter…

Yesterday’s filler post about Hulk Hogan got Lucy the Dog to reminiscing about professional wrestling. 

Even though watching the WWF was strictly forbidden in our home, I spent many hours as a young pup sitting in front of the muted television with one finger on the channel button, poised to switch to more wholesome programming in the event that my no-good parents entered the room.

So here, for no particular reason, is Lucy the Blog’s list of our 15 favorite wrestlers of all-time.  Yeah.

(15)  Barry O - These days, the premier wrestlers appear on television at least once a week.  But back in the 80s, you rarely saw a Hulk Hogan type in action unless it was pay per view or Saturday Night’s Main Event.  Instead, you got lots of Barry O.  When introduced in the ring, Barry O would kneel down on one knee and raise his arms in the shape of an O.  Because his name is Barry O. 

Barry O was later blackballed from wrestling after publicly supporting claims that ring boys had been sexually harrassed by WWF higher-ups.  He would eventually back off those statements, admitting he had “a sour grape or two to grind.”  Then he did lots of crystal meth and became Barrymore Barlow.  It’s much harder to make a B shape above your head.

(14)  Hacksaw Jim Duggan - You might be surprised to learn that Hacksaw Jim Duggan is STILL wrestling in the WWE (formerly the WWF).  He carries a piece of wood wherever he goes, and he was once arrested in New Jersey for driving a car while under the influence of the marijuana drug with the Iron Sheik.  Consorting with a known Islamofacist tainted Duggan’s reputation as a true American patriot, and he also got kidney cancer.  All because he smoked pot.  It’s not worth it, kids.  Be above the influence.

(13)  Earthquake - I actually don’t remember this guy, but I stumbled upon the above picture of him and it’s awesome.  According to Wikipedia, Earthquake later wrestled as “The Shark”.  In time, he shed that character, famously saying “I’m not a fish.  I’m a man.”  Now he’s dead.

Continue reading Sweaty Men in Unitards…

Any day now, I will think of something to write in this space.  I can totally feel it coming.  It’s right on the tips of my fingers.

Until then, I shall sit here deep in thought, like Hulk Hogan pondering whether or not he should touch his daughter’s rear.  (Spoiler Alert:  He should and he does.)

(Ed. Note: This is one of those posts that will bore our non-Lowell readers.  But that’s your own damn fault for not living in Lowell.)

Last week, City Manager Bernie Lynch told Lowell residents that the city may dump its recycling program in order to cut budget expenditures. 

Apparently, less than 10 percent of the city’s trash gets recycled, and as a result, the program costs us $800K while only bringing in $250K.

This discussion about Lowell’s disinterest in recycling coincided with Lucy the Dog’s own ill-fated initiative to recycle. 

Because we live in a condo complex, we are not eligible for the city’s curbside pick-up.  Therefore, the only things that we generally spare from the trash are cans and bottles that can be turned in at redemption centers.  Recycling paper, newspaper, cardboard, glass, plastic, and non-refundables has been, quite simply, too inconvenient.

But a couple weeks ago, I bought some plastic crates for sorting, and got very excited about creating a home recycling station in our garage.  All I needed was a place to bring this junk.  No problem.

The logical place to start seemed to be the city’s Recycling Department.  I went to its web page, hoping to get information about collection centers.  But if any such information is there, I couldn’t find it.

So instead, I called the department and explained my situation: that I don’t get curbside but I want to bring my stuff somewhere, etc.  The Recycling Coordinator said that rather than read the list of drop-off locales over the phone, I should e-mail him and he’d email me the list.  Easy enough.

I e-mailed him immediately and waited a few days for a response that never came.  Then, on April 13, I e-mailed him a second time, asking if he did indeed receive my first e-mail.  Again, a response never came.

Around the end of last week, I called the Coordinator to confirm whether he’d gotten my e-mails.  He had, he said, but he’d been very busy.  He then ‘promised’ to send me the list before leaving the office that day.  And I am still waiting for the list.

Perhaps I’m being unreasonable here.  And I don’t want to play the disgruntled taxpayer role or toss out the cranky “I pay your salary!” card.  But whoever you are, public sector, private sector, wherever.  If you say you’re going to do something, then do it.  Otherwise, don’t say you’re going to do it.

And if you can’t provide simple information to a resident who is eager to recycle, then it’s no small wonder that your program is failing.  So you might as well dump it and cut your losses.  I bought my own friggin’ plastic crates, for Christ sake!  You can’t even reply to an e-mail?

It’s just so silly and frustrating.

And in related news, I never heard from the Red Cross either.  Fuckers.

In honor of today’s holiday, I thought I’d post “I am a Big and Strong Patriot” by Coach Football (pictured, right).

This classic piece of prose was originally published on August 21, 2001 in Dude.  The essay would be honored later that year with a Pulitzer Prize for its searing insights and subtle eroticism.

So please enjoy and have a Happy Patriots Day.  And to all those marathoners out there, don’t forget to grease your nips!

“I am a Big and Strong Patriot” by Coach Football

As every American must, I embarked on a fine excursion to our nation’s home capital last weekend.  And let me tell you, I’m a different man.  For serious.

I started my weekend by taking the big bus down there.  What a great trip!  They showed some movie with Big American Stars, including Harr Ford.  It was some kind of thriller, with drama and murder and sexual in-you-endo. What a way to start it all!

So I get in, take the cab across the streets to my destination site, near the circle.  Get out, go in, the tall boys are ready, crack ‘em open, and sit out on the porch.  People walking down the street, moving to the traffic beats.  Americans!  All of them! 
 
That night I slept on the cold concrete floor.  Waking up, showering, talking.  Taking the subway line down to the place.  Look at the tourists crowding in and panicking and arguing and looking at maps.  On the contrary, I’m prepared!  I know where I’m going!

All of a suddenly, I’m standing in the Art Gallery.  What a place!  Art all around, by Italians, Germans, the Dutch, even Americans.  Many different artsy stylings, techniques, and colors.  The American stuff is not highly regarded though.  So they keep it hidden to the right side.  

They have this whole ‘nother building that was built in the late 1970s by Jimmy Carter.  That gave me pause.  My understanding of the facts goes something along the lines that Carter was made fun of so much that nothing got done during his Term.  During the Energy Nightmare, Americans became increasingly disillusioned with the Southerner.  Then Reagan freed the hostages, sold the arms to Central America, and defined the mid-1980s. Continue reading Patriot’s Day Rerun…

I don’t know if it was forced upon them. But the once-independent and now Boston Globe-owned Boston Dirt Dogs website just got fuglier than Kevin Youkilis’ taint.

Message to Dirt Dogs: There is no shame in failure. You tried. But your shit looks terrible. Please return to the old design.

A couple weeks ago I considered writing about the Iraq war’s five-year anniversary.

But then I decided not to because it seems futile. I have nothing to say. Even a doped-up grad student who spent most of his time on campus gazing lovingly at the exposed thong-tops of freshmen coeds could’ve predicted this clusterfuck. If you think the war has benefited or will benefit America in any way, shape, or form, then you are a retard. Leave this blog now.

However, while performing a Google image search for Arianna Huffington (SafeSearch set emphatically to OFF), I stumbled upon The $3 Trillion Shopping Spree, a nifty site recently linked to by The Huffington Post, which Lucy the Dog sometimes contributes to under the pen name of “Deepak Chopra”.

The shopping spree gives you a chance to fritter away $3 trill and damn near two hours, filling a shopping cart with the money our president invested in “occupying Iraq and killing over a million people.”

You’d be surprised how far $3 trillion goes. I could only spend $2,239,298,606,460.96 before I ran out of steam. I mean, I could’ve thrown in some debt relief for Liberia or treatment for malaria, but fuck that. I’m not one to spend just because the money’s there. The remainder will do just fine in my ING Orange savings account, thank you kindly.

So here’s the list of what I bought. I encourage you to make your own list and then feel totally annoyed by this colossal waste of dough over the last five years.

B-2 Bomber - 1 purchased for $2,200,000,000

Just because I oppose the Iraq War doesn’t mean I’m some yellow peacenick. Far from it.

With this B-2 bomber, I intend to make Lowell a leading power here in the Merrimack Valley. We will not rule with recklessness. But as Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence, we will hold the rest of the Valley “as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.”

So be on notice, Merrimack Valley. Lucy the Dog has a B-2 bomber, and she will bomb the shit out of you. Continue reading Keep the Change…