To The Face...

This is a weekly column (if it can even be called that) today that I'll be running every Thursday or Friday until further notice. It's a really lame personal take-off on the Cheers & Jeers type columns which hand out praise and disdain to many of the items currently residing in our collective pop culture conscious. I'm not promising that this will be anything groundbreaking, or even really worth the effort it will take to read, but it should allow me to get some posts up that cover some of the random items floating through my head without making my consistently hung over brain work too hard at the end of a typically grueling (bullshit) work week. People, Events, etc. will receive one of two items directly to the face: A nice strong punch or a cool refreshing shot of liquor. I'm a total badass so I enjoy both of these in equal measure but since most of you jerks are total pussies we're going to classify the punch as a negative and the liquor as a positive. Because, honestly, is there any situation where a shot (or shots) of liquor could be construed as anything other than an overwhelmingly positive experience?

Today's edition of To The Face is going to be somewhat truncated due to the combined effects of it being late Friday afternoon and the broken index finger I received while playing basketball earlier this week. Without further ado...

Punch: Mohawks. Listen, nobody likes a good mohawk as much as me. True, glue stiffened mohawks are a beauty to behold. Hell, I've even considered going halves on a bastard with my girl just so we could shave a mohawk into our sons hair for the first five years of his life. Sadly, there's no giving kids back when they're five, nor is there any guarantee that we'd even have a boy so we've decided against the bastard, for now. It's just as well because, mohawks aren't cool anymore. I'm not talking about the fauxhawks that frat boys and accountants are wont to rock. Those were never, ever cool. I'm talking about actual honest to goodness, fully shaved on the sides mohawks. You see, when Amare Stoudemire, Dmitri Young's kid and everyone in between is sporting a mohawk it instantly ceases to be cool or noncomformist or anything else that these people think they're doing by hopelessly following a trend that's long since outlived its usefulness.

Shot: Goodfoulers. It took me a day or two to get around to watching this. After I finished viewing it for the first time I felt like a bigger asshole than Nick Saban. Okay, not that big of an asshole. Not even Phil Fulmer's actual asshole is that big.


Punch: Lincoln Financial Sports. The kind folks who bring you the SEC Football Game of the Week (Translation: The SEC Football game that neither CBS or ESPN wanted to broadcast) have decided, in their infinite southern wisdom, to broadcast the University of Florida season opener this year. At 12:30 pm. In Gainesville. On September Fucking 1st. Read that again for me.

This has got to be some sick joke right ? Have any of these people ever attended an afternoon game in The Swamp in September? Well, I have and it's not pleasant. In fact, I'd say it's torturous. This is...madness. Beyond the chance that at least 10 people will probably end up in the hospital from attending this game, this decision also puts a major kink in my normal opening day plans. Florida's opener has started at 6 pm for about 20 years now and it works out perfect. I sit around and watch football all day long while simultaneously getting more and more pumped to catch the first glimpse of that year's Gator fo otball team that evening as me and my buddies toss back booze and work ourselves into a lather over all the possibilities of a new season. Now, I'll barely be out of bed before kickoff and probably won't have any food in me until halftime. What am I supposed to do once the game ends at 3:00 and I'm already half-cocked? Keep drinking? Well, if you say so.

Shot: Tomorrow. They'll only be two weeks until the official start of the college football season when you and I wake up tomorrow morning. That alone is cause for celebration, or shots. I've got an idea. How about a celebration of shots? The best of both worlds my friend, the best of both worlds.

Punch: The Makers of Superbad. I guess my anger is somewhat misplaced here. I think this movie looks hilarious. Funnier than Knocked Up if you ask me. In fact, my girlfriend and I made plans to go see it last Friday night. Until, that is, we figured out that it didn't come out until tonight. Of course, we have plans all weekend and I've already begun to lose motivation to drag my ass out to the theater to see it. See what you assholes did? I was going to be responsible and now I'm just gonna end up getting drunk and puking in the neighbors planter. I hope you're happy, rich hollywood types.

Shot: Curtis Mayfield. Since he's dead I'll take this one on his behalf. How can anybody not love this guy's music? I've been a fan of Superfly for a long time but have more recently started to explore more of his catalougue. I don't think its fair to even call him a genius as it seems genius doesn't adequately capture the immense talent that this man possessed. If you find yourself in a bad mood this weekend, listen to Move On Up and try not end up with a smile on your face within about 30 seconds. You could have a drink too, that always helps.