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… 

Charles Nelson Reilly is hotter than yo’ mama.

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.

(12)  Leaping Lanny Poffo - Also known as “The Wrestling Poet,” Poffo is actually the real-life brother of Randy “Macho Man” Savage.  Though he lacked Savage’s skill and sexual prowess, Poffo thrilled crowds by reading poems that he wrote on frisbees.

Following his retirement, Poffo championed the fruity anti-smoking cause, employing his gifts as a wordsmith in the 2004 book “Limericks from the Heart (and Lungs!)”.  Here is one of the book’s 355 limericks:

Mother Hubbard lived sadly alone
Except for her dog with that bone.
She smoked on the road
And in her abode
Which reeked like the cheapest cologne.

(11)  Andy Kaufman - “You might be twice as big as me, but I’ve wrestled women that are twice as big as me.  And I’ve mopped the floor with ‘em!”

(10)   The Godfather - In the early 2000s, after years away from wrestling, I started watching WWE’s Monday Night Raw.  This may have been a delayed act of rebellion against my parents.  Or it may have been because I was frequently high on Monday nights in the early 2000s.  In any case, The Godfather was a pimp character who arrived in the ring followed by a handful of strippers called his “Ho Train”.  He would often open his matches by imploring the audience to “roll a big fatty for this pimp daddy”.  I ate a lot of Stouffer’s Macaroni and Cheese back then.

(9)  Ricky the Dragon Steamboat - This guy was my favorite wrestler.  He was pensive and Asian.  That’s all I have to say about that.

(8)  The Bushwackers - You probably think The Bushwackers were Australian just because they licked each others’ heads and often wore Earth tones.  But you are wrong.  They’re from New Zealand.

(7)  Mark Henry, Sexual Chocolate - I met Mark Henry during a family vacation to Colorado Springs, where he was training for the 1992 Olympics.  He was a power-lifter, and neither of us had any idea that he would one day be a WWE star and knock up the buxom Mae Young.  Life’s funny that way.

(6)  Randy “Macho Man” Savage - Even more scandalous than the Henry-Young affair was the much-rumored real-life tryst between Savage and Stephanie McMahon.  Apparently when the boss’s daughter was still in her early teens, Savage deflowered her, according to several poorly-designed websites that I just wasted 20 minutes sifting through.  Having fallen out of favor with the WWE, Savage became the leading spokesman for Slim Jim beef jerky and released a rap album called “Be a Man” in 2003.

(5)  Koko B. Ware - The wrestling world is filled with tragic stories of athletes dying young.  Koko B. Ware was a fun-loving, high-flying wrestler who was accompanied to the ring by his pet macaw named Frankie.  Sadly, Frankie died in a house fire in 2001 while Koko was at church.  Thanks a lot, Jesus.  Sometimes you can be a real dick.

(4)  Kamala the Ugandan Giant - Believe it or not, of all the Ugandan giants, Kamala is the only one to have his own website that sells childproof spears, jungle skirts, and an album of R&B hits titled ”The Best of Kamala Vol. 1″.  We call this progress?

(3)  George “The Animal” Steele - This guy was the best.  He used to lumber around the ring like a mental patient, eating turnbuckles and stalking Miss Elizabeth with his green tongue.  Now he’s a Christian motivational speaker.  Make of that what you will.

(2)  Rikishi aka Junior Fatu - This Samoan warrior fulfills the latent homoerotic fantasies of wrestling fans worldwide by polishing off his opponents with the Stink Face, whereby he smothers his foe using his sizable buttocks.  The Stink Face is arguably the gayest finishing move ever, second perhaps only to the Bronco Buster, in which you dry hump your opponent’s face.

(1)  The Iron Sheik - It’s a long road from WWF Heavyweight Champion to Howard Stern Wack Packer.  But few have walked that road with more grace, dignity, anti-semitism, and ass-fucking than the Sheik.  “Besides that, everything was great.”

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.

At lunch time I went down to the Building Cafeteria.  Why are the prices so high?  Bill Clinton, you say?  Yeah, I bet it’s him.  He’s still America’s Biggest Problem.  You know he’s still involved in the red tape and porky-bellowing.  The New York Post says he costs me at least $70.2 billion a day!  And, according to Ripley’s Big Book of Believe It or Not!, Bill Clinton was once sentenced to die, and was hung two separate times in Arkansas.  But each time his noose snapped, and he plummeted to the grass!  At first the crowd demanded he be killed again.  But after the second time, the crowd began chanting, “Miracle! Miracle!” So he was freed.  Believe it.  Don’t not believe it.  Believe it.

I walked by Watergate.  I wanted to take a piss in Watergate.  It’s so big though, I couldn’t figure out where the entrance was.  I think Watergate should be demolished.  It’s no natural treasure, that’s for sure.  We can find Nixon a new place to live.

Lemme say up front that it’s like another world down there.  I’m telling ya, it felt like I was in Winnipeg or somewhere foreign.  There’s some weird-ass accents down there.  Some of these people must be from Texas or somewhere.  I swear, goddamned French sounds more like English than some of that ya’lling and yessireeing.

Nation’s capital?  How about jailbait capital!  Any man of my age and unbalanced mental and sexual state should be stopped at the gates.  Yeah, there was culture shock everywhere, and I’m from the Big City! Like this beautiful girl I was talking to outside the Smith-Sony Building.  Her dad shows up, and he’s a Marine with a Marine hairstyle!  You can bet that I beat it outta there quick.  Hot girl with a Marine Sergeant father. Now that’s a bad combo.  Stay away!  !Paligro!

What happens in Congresse?  Hell if I know, but this lady kept on telling me to get off the steps.  So I wandered down to where all these Boy Cub Scouts were.  Some guy from Texas was talking to them about something, but for the love of god I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.  Frank, his translator, was no help either.  I asked one of the Scout Dads who the Texan was, and turns out they were all from Houston.  I said, “I live in New York City.” Large-scale Mistake on my part.  That spelled the end of my day.

I probably shouldn’t have been taking individual photographs of the Scouts, either.

Up here in New York City (home of the crime and the blasphemy), I think to myself, “Who in the hell voted for Bush?”  In this region, just these white guys who live in and drive on the Parkway all aggressively. But down there, Bush People are everywhere.  You may not trust me, but believe me.  Go down to D.C. yourself, and you’ll see it.  I’ve never seen so many mustaches and jean shorts in my life!  I swear, when the pundits do political polls they just count the mustaches and the jean shorts.  That’s far more scientific than those “methods” those pollers use.  Don’t believe polls. Because when I get polled, I lie.  Shouldn’t you?

It was truly a frightening time.  I must have been wearing a wooden sign around my neck that said “I’m Not Like You.” It was obvious to everyone that I was guilty.  While you were safely ensconced in your household, I was out walking amongst people I refuse to take seriously or understand. I thought that I was going to be found out, especially during the flag burn.  I guess Democrats are either a) too intellectual and self-righteous to bother going down to D.C. or b) living so high on the hog on the welfare rolls that they don’t want to leave their mansions.

The walk around those white rock structures, the huge concrete men, the big water body, and Tall Thing got me real dizzy and confused.  Plus the sun beating down like a mother.  My neck was burned, and I felt like I’d run for 278 yards while throwing nine innings.  So I sat down under the Tall Thing, caught my breadth, and composed some notes:

“Right now I’m under that tower. I look up and I can’t even see the top. Yeah, it sure is bigg. And it’s tall. From this angle it looks like one of the Twin Towers where I’m from.  I can see the Whitey House.” (July 27, 2001, 2.12 p.m.)

Speaking of the big water body, I gotta say that it’s surrounded by Geese dump.  All the visiting Americans have to work hard to avoid it all.  That’s not very patriotic. You?

I took a walk to the American History Museum.  Huge.  Damn huge.  And full of important artifacts and national treasures, like the official Great Society Comic Book, and that Milton-Bradley bestseller, “The Exciting Game of the Kennedys.”  But they had all these presidents I’ve never heard of, like this guy Pork!  Are they making this shit up!

During the Era of Medium Feelings the agricultural colonists were being mugged by the Whigs and the Know-It-Alls.  It was a hard time.  Everything was in black-and-white, and men’s calves were bigger than they are now, so they liked to show them off by wearing really-tight stockings.  Did you know that during that time they had what we call hippies today? They were called Transcendapsychedelicists.  Frederick Douglass led them.  His crazy hairstyles became popular with the nation’s youth.  Then Ben Franklin invented Science, ushering in a New Age.

There’s some hot bitches down there, that’s for sure.  Did I see any Founding Fathers?  Nope, but I saw plenty of Founding Mamas!

After the end of my days, I’d meet my good pal Jahck at the Navy Headquarters.  He was doing some sorta funny business in there.  After the other night, I learned not to ask any more questions.  But those Navy guys wear these slacks that are real tight and make their butts look good. That makes sense.  But why white uniforms?  Don’t those Navy guys and gals get dirty?  And bell bottoms!  Now that’s just so impractical.  They could quite easily get their floppy pants caught in the ship’s turret.

During the nightytime Jahck and I would go to nearby nightspots and hot joints.  Alas, the women we met weren’t having it!  When we got home I said to Jahck, “This is all your fault.”  But, after an ice-cold concrete floor, I felt much better.

Should foreigners be allowed in the capitale?  Poll your friends.  We must guard our national secrets.  Like Tony Esposito’s 15 shutouts for the Chicago Blackhawks in 1969-70.  And what’s behind that big curtain in my parents’ closet?

There should be more stores on the Mall though.  They’d attract more people, not just those glazed-eyed Christian youth groups telling bible stories.  And those Scouts aren’t exactly big money spenders.  I thought George Bush was a businessman!  (I gotta say I like the free museums though.)

I’m back, safe and sound in New York City now.  You can breathe easy.  But listen up, because I have something to say.  Know this, America.  That trip rocked my world. 

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.

New York Yankees - 1 purchased for $1,027,000,000

First move: You’ve got a lotta spunk, Girardi. But we’re chasing Number 27 and there’s no room for error. You don’t pitch to Manny in that spot, so pack your bags. Lucy the Dog will take over from here.

Second move: I am pleased to introduce my new bench coach, The Sherpa.

Third move: We won’t be needing your services anymore, Mr. Pavano and Mr. Igawa. However, be sure to take a bag of stinky green bud on your way out the door. You and every other American! That’s right…

A Bag of Stinky Green Bud for Every American - 1 purchased for $100,000,000,000
Medical Marijuana for All Cancer, HIV, HCV, and MS Patients for 23 Years - $128,845,000,000

Please mail all unwanted bags to Lucy the Dog at 10236 Charing Cross Road, Beverly Hills, CA 90024. Yup. That’s the new secondary address. Because Lucy the Dog now resides at…

The Playboy Mansion - 1 purchased for $50,000,000

Suck it, Hef.

Switch to Solar - 1 purchased for $420,000,000,000

I’m not even sure what this switch would involve. But I do know my wife probably thinks it’s really important. And during the baseball offseason, I’m going to be spending lots of time at the Playboy Mansion. So my wife’s probably gonna be like, “Why are you always spending so much time at the Playboy Mansion? What about me?” And I’ll be like, “Whaddya think, this ’switch to solar’ shit pays for itself? I need to breathe here, hon, I’m doing the best that I can! Get off my back!” Then I’ll do a bong hit with Paulie Shore and Bill Maher. Suh-weet!

Hanes Classics Men’s 6-pack Cushion Low Cut, White, 6-12 - 1 purchased for $10

I could use some new socks.

Rice for All - 2 purchased for $60,000,000,000 each

Oops. Somehow I clicked it twice and ended up with two orders. Thank me later, poor third-world people. Now you’ll get four dishes of rice a day, and so will everyone else on Earth! Mmmmm, yummy. Who doesn’t love rice? I do. But you know what I really love?

Soy Sauce Sesame Seeds (3) - 1 purchased for $10

I really love rice with soy sauce sesame seeds!

But you know what I really, really love?

Hannah Montana Anti-static Pink Hair Brush - 1 purchased for $10.99

I really, really love eating my rice with soy sauce sesame seeds while brushing my hair with a Hannah Montana Anti-static Pink Hair Brush. And if George Bush didn’t have to invade Iraq for no reason, maybe I could do it every day. PRICK!

Rebuild New Orleans - 1 purchased for $2,000,000,000
Finish repairing the damage done by Katrina - 1 purchased for $200,000,000,000
Raise New Orleans 20 feet - 1 purchased for $750,000,000,000

There’s probably some crossover in these three purchases, but the government runs on inefficiency, turf wars, and duplicated efforts. I have no plans to tinker with that winning formula. So let’s just make sure the job gets done, boys. And do it right. Don’t be afraid to come back and ask for more if this money doesn’t cover it. We can always move some funds out of the rice for poor people line item.

John Paul Pet Calming Moisturizing Shampoo with Conditioning Formula - 16 fl. oz. - $12.99

Whilst frolicking in the woods this weekend, Lucy the Dog rolled in much pooh. ‘Nuff said.

Mexican Border Fence - 1 purchased for $20,000,000

This was sort of an impulse buy. I thought it’d be a nice stocking stuffer for my father-in-law next Christmas. I love getting the holiday shopping done early. But what to get the Perk Is a Beast who has everything? Hmmmmmmm…

Drive: The Story of My Life by Larry Bird - 1 purchased for $3

According to Amazon.com, “Here is the book that puts a basketball legend - and his game - on the line. And scores!” He’ll love it.

National Debt - 2 purchased for $250,000,000,000 each

I accidentally bought two of these, also. But the extra $250,000,000,000 will make for a nice little reserve when President McCain goes to war with Iran.

Jolly Roger Skull and Crossbones Red Scarf Pirate Flag - 1 purchased for $.01

Uhhhhh, do I have to spell it out for you? It’s a jolly roger skull and crossbones red scarf pirate flat for only a penny! DUH!!!!!!

Private Concert with Bob Dylan - 1 purchased for $50,000,000

With Sanjaya Malakar as opening act.

Universal Health Care - 2 purchased for $3,067 each

For me and the missus. The rest of you suckas are on your own.

Rock Band Special Edition for PS2 - 1 purchased for $125
Play Station 2 Console - 1 purchased for $125

I was originally looking for a drum kit, but Rock Band came up in the search and I realized I’d rather play that then go through the hassle of learning the real drums. I’m not very good at “sticking with things.”

Make a Hollywood Movie - 1 purchased for $106,600,000

In a land of dying revenue. Plummeting circulation. And lobotomized refrigerator journalism. One misunderstood genius will ascend to immortality.

Lucy the Dog is…The Organizer.

Smashing windshields, exposing senior-citizen olympics doping scandals, and filing two stories a day, The Organizer is about to pop an inflatable rat in your ass.

Mary Louise-Parker costars as the HR generalist who generally craves his genitals. With appearances by Lindsay Lohan in her breakthrough role as Editor with Ungodly Tatoo Above Ass-Crack. And Penelope Cruz, the sassy union-busting consultant hired to take The Oragnizer down. Waaaaay down.

Rated R for non-stop fallating of The Organizer, coming soon to a theatre near you.

Increase Substantial Organic Produce in the US - 1 purchased for $10,000,000,000

When you’ve played that ’solar switch’ card one too many times, nothing says, “Honey, I’m so sorry I had an offscreen romance with Mary-Louise Parker, Penelope Cruz, and Lindsay Lohan” like buying your woman 10 billion dollars worth of that organic produce that she so adores. Even transmission of that light case of the clap from Lindsay will be forgiven.

Mooning Garden Gnome - 1 purchased for $14.98

Because when I was just a little pup, I remember thinking, “If I ever get three trillion dollars, I am so going to treat myself to a mooning garden gnome.”

And goddammit, I deserve it.

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