Behind Closed Doors

The YABNews Desk, which performs its duties as consistently as A-Rod in October, has been caught sleeping on the job. The last time they submitted any shred of journalism to the editor was all the way back in August, and that was to report on sports, which they would probably do even if we didn’t pay them. (Wait. We don’t pay them. Oh, I guess that beggers can’t be… adage is true then.)

Pressed with a deadline, they searched the wires and came up with the front page of Cnn.com. Granted, this is the equivalent of asking the weatherman the forecast only to have him look at the sun, but we’ll take it. Dateline – Capitol Hill. In the Senate Tuesday, the Democrats invoked Senate Rule 21, a measure whereby everybody must vacate the legislative floor except senators. The doors are promptly closed, and the lawmaking body of the American Government operates in secrecy until they agree to open the doors and re-join the real world. Most news outlets are calling this a determined effort by the Dems to get the Republicans to follow up on promised reports regarding Iraq. YABNews thinks otherwise. As 100 senators said good-bye behind the closing door of democracy, we hypothesized a different motive:

SLUMBER PARTY!!!!

That’s right. As per the Constitution of the United States, our elected officials have invoked Rule 21 in order to hang out with friends, stay up late, and eat junk food together in the name of Freedom. What? Don’t believe me? Well, how about we prove it to you by reprinting our founding document of Liberty here on YAB without any revision, and you can be the judge as to what this closed door session is about (And law students, I’ll thank you not to fact check.)

Article I, Section 3: The Senate

The Senate of the United States shall be comprised of two Senators from each state, chosen by the legislature thereof for six years, and each Senator shall have one vote. This includes the representatives of the state of Delaware, who the Founding Fathers don’t so much see as a state as much as a haven for tax-free shopping.

No person shall be a Senator who shall not have attained to the age of thirty years, and been nine years a citizen of the United States and who shall not, when elected, be an inhabitant of that state for which he shall be chosen. Look, we’re not trying to exclude, but as a civil body, we would like to see that our lawmakers be of an age where they can act with full dignity and with a killer discount on car insurance (assuming something called a “car” is someday invented, and the net worth of such an innovation warrants a need for insurance.)

Duties of the United States Senate include, but are not limited to: borrowing money on the credit of the United States, to regulate commerce with foreign nations and Canada, to establish post offices and post roads, to declare war, declare peace, and declare slumber party.

As for the final duty, the slumber party, the following explanation shall be included in this charter document, since Samuel Adams insists on life, liberty, and verbosity.

Any member of the Senate can invoke Rule 21, a call to slumber. Upon this declaration, all people who have a secret Senate decoder ring shall remain in the chambers and all who do not must vacate. The Senate shall then spend the evening behind closed doors and participate in traditional governmental activities:

Junk food consumption – the follow state delegates should be in charge of the following – Pennsylvania must bring chocolate, Kansas must provide popcorn, Washington shall submit candied apples, Wisconsin and Missouri shall bring beverages.

Sleeping bags – For whenever the Senate is in recess, the 20 minutes of the slumber party that are spent asleep shall happen under the public sleeping bag reserve. Democrats are allocated the blue ones, Republicans the red. Independent senators from the state of Vermont get their underwear put in the freezer when they fall asleep.The delegates from California are responsible for bringing videos in order to prevent lawmakers from getting too much sleep. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is a chamber favorite.

If policy must be enacted, debates and concessions must be brokered using high-stakes rounds of Truth or Dare. Please, if a large Kennedy from Massachusetts is ever elected, do not allow him to play. He’ll never tell the truth about Chappaquiddick and do not dare him to swing from the chandelier. He might squish the junior Senator from Rhode Island.

Also, somebody poke Senator Byrd from West Virginia. You know, to make sure he’s just sleeping and not dead.

Marty McSly

Did Sylvester Stallone build a DeLorean?

Stallone, the only man in Hollywood more unintelligible than the Governator, has apparently turned back the clock on his storied acting career. Even though the man will be celebrating his sixtieth birthday next summer, he has recently announced big movie plans for the future: Rocky VI, and now, Rambo IV.

I’m not going to use my word count to make “Sly is old” jokes. The man can bench press a Miata. Sure, in his prime he may have been able to lift larger vehicles – Hummers, Carrier Jets, etc, but I know which fights to pick and I’m not going to make wheelchair jokes at the expense of this guy. I think about lifting a mountain bike and I cringe.

Now I know the current state of the film industry is in dire straits. In an environment of sequels, prequels, and requels, original screenplay ideas should be exalted and pushed to the top of the stack (even if it does involve the protagonists going to White Castle.) Now despite all the other forms of entertainment out there (TV, Internet, paint drying), there is still money to be made in the theater. And I guess until someone breaks open the next blockbuster original idea, we’re going to be treading water with retreads. And who else to help us swim than the Sequel master himself, Sly.

I was watching a part of Scream 3 last night. This is the definition of a sequel that didn’t need to be made. Not only had they run out of ideas and creativity, they went on to alter plotlines of the first two, thus detracting from one good and one passable flick. Now will Stallone understand that these two new movies do not need to be made? Unlikely. Rambo will probably team up with Stifler to rid the jungles of terrorism, and Rocky will hit the comeback circuit, downing Glass Joe, Piston Honda, King Hippo, and Soda Popinski before losing to Mike Tyson’s ridiculous combo in the final scene.

(I can hear you rushing to fandango to get your tickets now.)

These franchises are worn – between the two we’ll be up to ten movies. TEN! That’s not original cinema. That’s a HBO mini-series. Now, I like several of the Rocky movies. Let’s not detract from them Sly. Why don’t you aim your sequel machine at the rest of your filmography.

Demolition Man 2 – It’s been 12 years since Stallone was last cryogenically frozen. Unfortunately, since Snipes will be busy making Blade 12, casting directors decide that Omar Epps can fill his shoes. Hey, it worked in Major League.

Stop! Or My Grandmom Will Shoot – Everyone loves a buddy cop movie. Especially when Stallone says “Aww, ma.” Every third line. But there’s a bigger question here - How the heck is Estelle Getty STILL alive???

Tango & Cash 2: Cash Money – Kurt Russell is above this. Teri Hatcher is above this. Jack Palance is above this. Therefore. Come see Sylvester Stallone play all four roles. He could be the Eddie Murphy of the new decade!

SpyKids 4-D: Game On! = In the previously installment, Stallone’s role of the Toymaker had height, width, and depth. Now he’s got to deal with a fourth dimension: senility. (Unless you count his multiple personalities from the last one.) He’s taking this to the next level!

Judge Dredd 2 – Dredd and Loving It – In the future, one man is the law. In the sequel of the future, one man falls asleep walking at 2 in the afternoon and mayhem ensues. Dakota Fanning as Warlord Abraham Fongor.

Arrested for Killing Penalties

Apparently, God forgot to pay his gas bill.

As of yesterday, the days of going to work sans jacket and taking the trash out sans pants have yet again disappeared. (I meant while wearing shorts, freakos. C'mon.) I can no longer get away with traipsing to the store in sandals, unless I’m cool with having frozen feet. (Note: I am not cool with this.) The winter clothes come out, and so do the cold-weather stories here in Blogtown.

Of all my memories, I can think of no other time where I’ve bundled up more than my weekly Saturday night high school excursion. Playing roller hockey in the Shawnee High School parking lot wasn’t just a game – it was a test of a man’s will. Wearing three pairs of pants, two sweatshirts, and a jersey really served two purposes. The obvious: keeping warm so that games last more than 15 minutes – these were often 3 hour affairs. The not-so-obvious – in 30 degree weather, we decided as a group decided that getting pelted by a whistling hard plastic hockey ball was considered “Not Fun.” Oww.

But hockey is hard to play with handcuffs.
I remember one game in particular vividly well. With 8 guys and a couple of goalies, we eschewed the standard “split-the-sticks” method of picking teams and allied for our hometowns. Medford vs. Tabernacle. For once, I played on a line with Joey “Sweep-the-leg” Brescia, Tim “Selivanov” Fischer, and Dave “Bullfrog” Kull. And as the temperature hovered around freezing, so did both teams’ ability to score. After an hour of hard play, it was only 1-1. And we were just getting started.

Or were we?

A Medford Police SUV pulled into the parking lot just beyond the ‘Nacle goal and stopped. He didn’t turn off his engine, but just parked with the car facing our direction. Now recall that we were playing under the lights of the high school parking lit – not exactly our own backyard. Figuring he would step out of his car at any minute to tell us we had to 1) pack up and leave the premises or 2) pack up and get in the back of the car, we mulled around a bit, preparing for the grisly fact that our weekly game was about to get deep sixed by the five-oh.

Nothing.

No, he just sat there in his car for what seemed like an eternity. But we waited on. For hockey, we would wait. Hell, I watched 5 overtimes of Flyers-Penguins during finals. Yeah, unless he says something, we’re not going anywhere. But standing around waiting and not moving – we would freeze if we kept that up.

Game on!

So for another 30 minutes, the game resumed. Our cop friend sat in his car, motionless. His window was tinted, so we couldn’t tell if he was watching the game or writing us tickets and booking reservations in the town jail.

But as the game heated up again, you began to forget his presence. Kull stole the ball behind Mike Hebert’s net and passed it out to Tim at the point. Time, always the graceful passer crossed it laterally to yours truly. Seeing a good sightline, I flicked a wrist shot at the net. Always the terrible shooter, it sailed to the left of the net – right where Go-Go Joey Brescia was parked. His redirection sailed over Hebert’s pad to score and take the lead.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL.

The cop’s SUV sprung to life as he threw on his red lights and siren. We celebrated like we had never celebrated before. After all, not only did we get a game-winning goal, we were simultaneously cleared of all charges.

A Thimble Full of Fries

I don’t care what silly toys go into Happy Meals. I don’t care what Disney movie signs an exclusive licensing deal with any fast food establishment. I don’t care what kind of special burger or chicken sandwich you can conjure up. I don’t care that you’re willing to throw in fries for a low, low price. I don’t care if you sneak a fry into your onion rings. And I don’t care if you have football playing royalty, giant purple Grimaces, or commercials with celebrities hawking your product even thought there’s NO way they eat it on a regular basis. You can take all of these promotional methods and throw them out the window of a drive-thru. In my mind thing, one thing is certain.

The single best fast food promotion of ALL TIME is McDonald’s Monopoly Game.

There are many snack products out there that offer you chances to win fantastic prizes by revealing what’s behind the label or under the cap. But as fun as cashing in a bottle cap to a confused merchant for another free Sprite is, the chance to win fantastic prizes by getting all three properties in a color group (not to mention a railroad quartet) proves way better. Not that I’ve ever won, but still.

But man, I’ve tried. In the bleak midwinter of 2000, I entered into a sacred pact. Knowing that the sheer buying power of one man (even a fast-food junkie like Nordberg) wouldn’t get anyone a yacht, home theater or a Money Bin anytime soon, Pax Mcnoplia was formed. It simply stated that the undersigned sextet of Mellor, Fraser, Reif, Condon, Viehweg, and Nordberg would combine their efforts and properties in order to form a winning combination. Any garnered prizes would be split six-ways between all Pax members (after taxes, which a payable to Mayor McCheese.) Curiously, one involved party (ends in –rockmorton) declined admittance. And no one is quite sure why.

However, despite the competitive spirit with which Pax Mcnoplia was penned, we didn’t come away victorious. Just sick of French Fries. I guess there was a few factors getting in the way. First, we all had meal plans on campus, which often seemed like a better option that spending my hard-earned Dean of Students minimum wages. Second, we didn’t account for the Hamburglar – I think Dave might have had the elusive Oriental Ave piece on his hash browns one morning, but as fast as you can say ‘robble, robble’ – his breakfast was gone.

It’s worth noting Sara didn’t win either. Phew.

I’m not saying that this marketing method will make families ignore their groceries and head to McD’s every night of the week. I just think that if someone needs a fast food fix, the prospect of taking some of Uncle Pennybags’ booty home will sway their vehicle in the direction of the Golden Arches. (I just wanted to see how that looked in print.)

So that brings us to 2005. Every now and then, I’ve stopped in during this sweepstakes for a drink on the way to class or a chicken sandwich on days where I don’t have time for dinner. I don’t have many game pieces, but wouldn’t you know, I’ve already got Marvin Gardens and Atlantic Avenue. Now I’m sure Ventnor Avenue must be the tricky one to get – my luck’s not that good – but 2 out of 3 ain’t bad. According to their website, if you collect all three yellow pieces, you get a private screening of the upcoming Glory Road movie and a chance to be in an upcoming Buena Vista Pictures movie. Wow! I could be famous! Hold on, let me check to see what kind of flicks they’re putting out these days.

Herbie: Fully Loaded. Sky High. Ice Princess.

On second thought, does anyone need Marvin Gardens and Atlantic?

Donut Dilemma?

I got an e-mail today from Wegman’s. That’s not terribly unusual; I get e-mail from my supermarket of choice all the time. Fortune Magazine once awarded them as the #1 Company in America to Work For. So if stocking produce, slicing meat, and price checking cereal aren’t what you had in mind, it appears that they’ve got some openings in the IT and Promotions department. After all, someone’s on the other end of this Internet e-mailing new product information, recipe ideas, and whatever else they feel like it. And judging from the latest e-mail from the Big W, somebody just got fired.

To: condon@hungrynow.com
From: wiggitywiggityweg@wegmans.com
Subject: We’re sorry about the donut dilemma

Now when this shows up your inbox, a few questions come to mind. Especially the following: “WHAT DONUT DILEMMA?” I figured opening the e-mail might shed some light on this glazed subject.

Pardon our Error
You may have recently received a Fresh News email about our new donuts. We are so sorry to ever disappoint our customers, but our new donut program is not available in all Wegmans stores.

Oh, that clears things up. Totally.

Now I don’t know if this donut program is in Fairfax, but it concerns me more that I have no idea what a donut program actually is. And since the IT guy who sent out this worldwide e-mail accidentally has probably been sacked, it looks like I’m on my own. All I know is what this brief e-mail has given me to work with. I guess I’m on my own to play Encyclopedia Brown (whom I might add, Liz Grimm had an immense crush on when she was 8.)

Now if I were in charge of implementing a donut program, I guess I’d have to start with donuts. Really good quality donuts. Not the pre-packed rubbish that Nordberg would sell his soul for – I’m talking the kind that makes you feel guilty for eating something so sinfully good, but then your feelings of guilt are quashed by the um, deliciosity of the donut. Expertly-crafted dough, scrumtrilescent filling, and above all, no jelly donuts. I’ve never seen a donut other than jelly stand as the sole survivor in an almost-empty donut box, and no donut program of mine will have to deal with such an outcast pastry.

So I’m assuming Wegman’s follows my train of thought (after all, I’m the customer, and I’ve heard I’m always right.), and this is the product that is part of their program. Remember, the e-mail said it was a program, and that entails much more than aging donuts on a shelf. In the business world, a program is a fancypants word for “something that’s not part of your daily routine, but you’ll have to find time in your busy schedule to get it done anyway, and management is watching you.”

Now these donuts won’t be for sale, you have to earn them. Anyone willing to run at top speed down an grocery store aisle and jump head first into the floor-to-ceiling paper towel display gets a donut. One catch: right before the towels stands one of the original American Gladiators – like Nitro, Tower, or any of the scary women they had on that show. Get by them, and by God, that Boston crème donut is yours for free.

Wow, that sounds pretty good.

(re-reading e-mail)

You know what? I AM disappointed! Why didn’t Fairfax get that donut program? Not enough Gladiators to go around? Booooooooo.