Two Wheels of Fury

“Even in the future when kids are fat, immobile technaddicts, nothing will beat waking up Christmas morning and finding a shiny, new bicycle under the tree.”
- Spud Mellor, Monrovia Top Five

And while we like this quote just because of the coining of “technaddicts” it appears that in his ode to his first red bike, Mr. Mellor is clearly on to something. Although it should be pointed out that unless he lived outside in an evergreen forest, his and every other Christmas morning bicycle probably rested next to the tree and not under it. That’s why God invented kickstands – so shiny new bikes don’t fall into the tree and ruin Christmas.

While I was unable to post to MT5 that particular week due to Blogger playing Scrooge, I, too, would have made sure a shiny new two-wheeler was part of my list. Before I write my own personal ode to a bicycle, I think it’s worth taking a gander at the latest bike to roll down the line.

Is it a Huffy? No.
Schwinn? Uh-uh.
Trek? Don’t think so.
Mercedes? Of course!

As if making reliable German luxury cars wasn’t enough, it seems that the automaker has finally rolled out their auto show prototype BICYCLE. Yes, it seems that since Germany didn’t win the World Cup, they have instead focused their efforts to the world of cycling. Jan Ulrich aside, this just might be the bike that takes them to the forefront of Ich Sport de Tightpants.

The Mercedes bike, according to the linked press release, has some features quite nicer than the Point A-to-Point B stuff we Americans are used to. An intelligent lighting system operates to provide safety features in close quarters, as well as ask you impossible Trivial Pursuit questions (probably Science and Nature) during your bike ride. An on-board computer does an array of functions from displaying speed and gear, to flashing a lateral red light back and forth with the voice of Mr. Feeney from Boy Meets World. But the most revolutionary bicycular advancement on the Mercedes bike?

An automatic transmission.

Yes, while you are shifting gears with your hands like a sucker, the Germans are letting the machine do the work FOR THEM. Face it, your hands are busy enough with minor tasks like “steering the bicycle” and “not falling off,” they could use a break. The Mercedes bike does the work for you by calculating speed and incline to determine the ideal gear. That’s why it’s the Mercedes is the Mercedes of Bicycles.

Now let me introduce you to the Saturn.

Known for affordability, initial dependability and reliability, both the Saturn and my Huffy Mountain Bike get off to flying color starts. They serve their purpose with a limited sense of style. This is a Huffy I probably got in 6th grade or so. It was the third in a line of bikes for me; the first had been handed down, and then I really put the pedal to the metal with my first red 10-speed. However, as my riding got more aggressive (read:off-road), it was clear that it was time for an upgrade and Santa came through. BIG TIME.

This was 1991.

NINE YEARS LATER, I brought the aptly-named Huffy Death Trap to college with me for my freshman year. I had grown 13 inches in that time; the bike did not. Its gears? Squeakier. So much that you could hear it coming at the UC if I was still at Monroe. Had it had an equivalent on-board computer, it wouldn’t have been capable of speed and gear readings. Its processing power?

Perhaps it was more the speed of “The Cow Says Mooooooo.”

RIP, HDT.

Insert Steely Dan Song Title Here

So we hoped you enjoyed the Story of the Secret Magi. We felt it was so damn good we left it as the top post on YAB for the last week. (Or the holiday season kicked our butt and nothing was written during the Second through Eighth Days of Christmas. We blame the swans.)

Well-rested and un-deterred by a forty day backlog, we press on in the year of our Lord 2007. This new year might bring forth the need for resolutions, but we took that a little too literally last year. And besides, since all of you have probably vowed to do things like “go to the gym more” and “spend more time outdoors,” this blog doesn’t translate well to such pursuits. Of course, we’re in talks to have James Earl Jones record audio versions of the funny for podcasting, but iYAB is still a few months off.

(And we kind of get a kick out of you trying to balance a laptop on an elliptical machine.)

Cardiovascular hilarity aside, we consider the year 2006 a blogging success. According to our records, we wrote to you all 233 times this past calendar year. Sure, that means the backlog slipped by 27 days, but that still means we put over 150,000 words of the funny out here on these Internets. And just because the backlog slipped, it doesn’t mean that our ambition has in turn. The reason in simple. 2007 doesn’t appear to be any less hilarious of a world to live in. Famous people will still do stupid things. The lighter side of sports will continue to be more than outfielders running into walls. Movies will still require astute commentary that critics and industry folk will overlook. The English language is still fit to mock, and Stephen Colbert is improving it, one word at a time. And yes, people just like to laugh.

About half of what we put up here comes to us from events and places that I’ve never been a part of or have never been to. However, the other half comes from within the walls of the Fortress of Condon. After 600 posts or so, I’m still amazed when I come up with a personal story from the past that I’ve yet to relay to you all (hell, the Lamppost story was used only three months in!), and there are probably even some of those stories that don’t end with Joe Brescia on the ground in considerable pain. New funny stuff happens to me every day, but that by no means makes me unique. It’s the ability to remember daily comedy and translate it to the blogworld that has given YAB countless material out of nothing. Good God, I swear I’ve written 20-25 posts about the cafeteria downstairs. If this were Hollywood, I might have a green-lighted pilot on my hands.

2006 was a great year, personally. We bid adieu to learning. Forever.

Ok, maybe not forever, and maybe not learning altogether. But it did signify the end of formal education, as I graduated with my MBA from GW in May, and in turn, we said goodbye to an avenue of good writing material. That will probably be the most time I ever spend in a city the rest of my life, so I hope I got all of those public transportation jokes out while I had the chance. And yes, Katie and I completed our first year of marriage in 2006. And for the record, I’ve only slept on the couch once. And who can forget a stellar Oscar Party III – which has been re-lived over 20,000 times on YouTube and Google. Yeah, it’s been a good year.

So what will 2007 bring YAB Nation? Well, our Oscar coverage will continue in late January for the nominations and a re-cap of OP IV in February. And hell, maybe we’ll get to change the colors to Eagle Green then as well. We think we’ll bring back the Fall TV-NFL preview next August, and with more than a few trips plan, we’ll be blogging from all parts of the country in 2007. And of course, we’ll be hiring someone new to the staff, who will no doubt be a constant source of amusement and laughter and stories and the funny – our baby girl, Clara. Yes, we’ll be sure to have an array of baby-arrival posts this month, and then after the delivery, a new segment called the Condad Chronicles.

Happy New Year, YAB Nation.

The Story of the Secret Magi

As everybody knows, the Holy Gospel that foretells the birth of Jesus Christ comes to us courtesy of four ancient writers - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. In addition to their universal roles as Biblical historians, the four have effectively served as our New Testament media outlets, reporting on the breaking news that occurred in Bethlehem that magical evening. Had the arrival of Christ occurred in modern-day times, we would no doubt expect to find the Gospel authors sitting at the network news desks of NBC, ABC, CBS, and Fox. (It is also widely expected that the Fox Network would have hired Mark; a man of such literary brevity would have no problem working in promos for a very exciting episode of Prison Break to immediately follow the broadcast.)

With such news to break, it's likely that the Big 4 networks would probably have little time to cover the human interest stories surrounding the Nativity. (Katie Couric would have been sold to the TLC Channel for thirty pieces of silver.) And with that, this is THE story, that would be featured by TLC's newest anchorwoman on this Christmas Day.

(Turns out the ancient Greek for "Cable" is "Apocrypha.")

In the time that was known as B.C. (but prior to the time that anyone actually knew what the "C" meant), with the holiday season fast approaching, it was time for the annual inter-kingdom Secret Sant- er, um, Secret Magi. In a annual giving tradition orchestrated by the One called "I Am," it was a custom in which each king was given a the name of another king on a tiny slip of parchment, and it became his goal to find a gift for that king. This not only embodied the spirit of the season, but a good gift would also foster positive trade relationships during the next harvest.

With only the three participants, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, there was not much variety in the gifts, nor was there much surprise. After all, if Caspar read his slip of parchment to be "Melchior," he then knew that Balthasar must have drawn his name; for if two of the kings drew each other's names, one would be stuck purchasing a gift for himself. This is why Jacob had twelve sons - to make Secret Magi a surprise every year.

So when Caspar opened his slip this year to not read one of his two fellow rulers, but rather the name "Emmanuel," there was a little confusion. For ages, there had only been the three of them (Herod was expelled after 9 consecutive years of giving the gift of fruitcake), and now a new name had popped in the mix. Who was this Emmanuel? What does he rule over? Does he remember to include gift receipts?

The same confusion befell Melchior, who opened his slip to read "Wonderful Counselor." This must have been a pseudonym of another entrant - after all, the Divine Organizer that puts together this whole shindig probably didn't extend the circle to therapists. (In ancient times, therapists were somewhere on the salvation chain between Pharisees and tax collectors.) Nevertheless, Melchior figured he'd go with his old standby: Frankincense.

And thirdly, there was Balthasar. Upon opening his parchment to see the name "Prince of Peace," he had an initial hesitation. A Prince?? Now we're just letting any level of royalty into this gift exchange? Eh, I guess it doesn't really matter. Maybe Caspar will have him, and give him the gift of Gold. (Which Balthasar will then have his smiths smelt into a beautiful amulet to give to the Queen - he always hated the Marketplace with the crowds and not being able to find a place to park his camel anywhere.) Having sent all of the spare chalices and ornaments to the teachers of his children, he searched through his majestic pantry to settle on a gift for the prince - a designer embalming fluid called "Myrrh."

Gift exchanges usually happened by post - as respective rulers, no one could leave for too long - there were kingdoms to manage. But this year, with new entrants to the fray, there was special instructions to meet in a town known as Bethlehem. And since no one had yet invented Mapquest, the three had to rely on their rudimentary astronomy skills and follow a light in the sky. No one asked questions, and well, the rest was history.

And at his heavenly desk, amidst scraps of parchment and ink, God smiled down upon the gathering of kings (only 4, not 6 as the Original Kings of Holiday had thought) that was about to commence in a barn just outside the Inn.

Merry Christmas, YAB Nation.

M-U-P-P MUPPETS MUPPETS MUPPETS!

There’s two weeks left in this NFL season and there are 6 teams that have already locked up playoff appearances. That leaves six more openings, and a staggering 18 squads still in contention. Now one would think that the remaining dozen and a half would spend the week going over game film, walking through two-minute drills, and doing whatever it takes to prepare for this weekend’s games. Ok, we’ll concede that snowball’s chance in hell the 6-8 Rams get in, but what of the rest?

What of the New York Jets?

The Jets face an uphill battle in the AFC to say the least. Yes, they’re 8-6, but need two wins and either a New England collapse, a Bengal blunder, or Denver and Jacksonville to surrender. So, really, football is fun, but why not have some REAL fun. Screw the playbook this week, Jets. Let’s read a coloring book instead.

With their road to the playoffs far from easy, it appears that the J-E-T-S have made a sudden left turn…onto Sesame Street.

Because of their respective kids’ infatuation with the long-running program of the Children’s Television Workshop, Coach Eric Mangini, QB Chad Pennington, WR Laveranues Coles and P Ben Graham taped several segments with Elmo and crew for a broadcast set to air next August. Now why, exactly, they picked a week leading up to their Monday Night Football appearance is a little confusing. Let’s break down this foursome, shall we?

Eric Mangini – Mangini wants you to all know that should Terrell Owens actually find a way to cause a Bill Parcells heart attack, the Jets’ head man will be glad to continue the tradition of manboobs on the sideline. In fact, take another look at the NYT photo – he kind of looks like he’s envisioning an Elmo entrée.

Chad Pennington – Sometimes it’s just nice to hang out with someone else who possessed Muppet arms.

Laveranues Coles – Upon trying to spell Mr. Coles first name, Big Bird’s head promptly exploded. (For non-NFLphiles, it’s pronounced Lah-ver-nee-uhs)

Ben Graham – Yes, they brought the punter. I think he agreed to drive, treat for lunch at Mr. Hooper’s, and not speak unless spoken to. Apparently, punters don’t need to watch game film during the week. One, two, three, KICK!

Now, the minds behind Sesame Street often come up with variations on the names of celebrities in order to create comical representations of them in full Muppet form. This includes Polly Darton, Marry Banilow, Bruce Stringbean, and Meryl Sheep, but sadly, excludes Teve Torbes.

(So let’s see, if we switch the J in Jets with the N in New York…oh no, that won’t work. We’ll have to bring on the real Jets instead.)

Right Said Wooderson

This is where we pull a Timberlake and “bring it to the chorus.”

Earlier this week, it was revealed that Chris Condon (among others) was chosen as Time’s Person of the Year. And since weekly magazines have somehow become THE go-to authority on the ranking of humanity, I’ve officially captured the first part of the All-Human Trifecta. It took a mere 27 years to be designated as awesome in every regard, and now I can move on to the next two. I realize I may have to catch eleventy billion more flag football TD’s and master a slow-pitch softball bleachers stroke in order to gain the Sports Illustrated “Athlete of the Year” crown, but in the mean time, we’ll turn our attention to making some New Year’s Resolution for eating right and staying trim in order to become People’s Sexiest Man Alive.

So, looking up the list on People’s chart, I see that Matthew McConaughey, of Dazed and Confused fame, recently lost his throne to George Clooney. So there’s little doubt that McConaughey will work on his sexy even harder in ’07 to regain his crown. Another bastion of Authoritude, Entertainment Weekly, decided they needed to kill some time until “We Are Marshall” rolls out and interviewed Matthew on his lifestyle, his looks, and his lager of choice. And from that interview, the editors at EW pondered:

“Is Matthew McConaughey TOO sexy for his own good?

It’s a tough question to deal with – after all, who gets to decide if and what the Sexy Threshold is. Sure, this man has charmed in romantic comedies, played the tough-guy roles, and somehow found a way to take off his shirt for no reason whatsoever (see this Matt Damon on Letterman clip for more), but how in the world do the people at People even determine and quantify a level of sexiness??

As usual, YAB has the answer.

We’ve employed the RSF Method, founded by a couple of bald, mesh-shirt lab-coated brothers in 1991 has set the standard for the Sexy Threshold. Rather than get numbers and complex equations in everyone’s head (a big mistake, since Dr. Thomas Dolby was earlier blinded by science), they kept it simple. One is to measure their sexiness on a TOO/NOT TOO scale, using several commonplace items as barometers. We apply this test to Matthew McConaughey here.

Item 1: “LOVE”: Well, the man’s biggest box office successes (after A Time to Kill) were all romantic comedies. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Failure to Launch made a combined 193 million at the Box Office. It appears that if he’s choosing his projects well, he should do one of these every couple years, so love (love)’s not going to leave him. VERDICT: NOT TOO SEXY!

Item 2: “SHIRT”: The most obvious item – if U-571 hadn’t taken place on a submarine in the middle of the freezing North Atlantic, he probably would have gone topless. VERDIT: TOO SEXY!

Item 3: “MILAN, NY, and JAPAN” – Three items really, but these three major fashion meccas are rarely the filming location of a Matthew McConaughey flick. Sahara was probably the closest to Milan (filmed in Morocco), and while you thought it was New York, most of “Two for the Money” was in NYC’s kid brother, Vancouver. VERDICT: TOO SEXY!

Item 4: “YOUR PARTY” – Observe the way he’s disco dancing. And the way he tried to stop his own wedding from happening in The Wedding Planner. (Ok, technically, it was “his” party.) VERDICT: TOO SEXY!

Item 5: “CAR” – In Failure to Launch, he has a car but prefers his boat. In Reign of Fire, he prefers dragons. U-571 it was submarines. But Dazed and Confused, Wooderson’s life (other than high school chicks) IS his car. VERDICT: NOT TOO SEXY!

Item 6: “HAT” – I’m starting to think that the Brothers Fred were just coming up with words that rhyme rather than conducting astute scientific research. Anyways, McConaughey wears an assortment of hats in his movies, most regrettably one of the California Angels in the 1994 flick, Angels in the Outfield. VERDICT: NOT TOO SEXY!

Item 7: “CAT” – The man is a Longhorn, an alumnus of the University of Texas. On September 30th, Texas hosted the Sam Houston State Bearkats and destroyed them, 56-3. VERDICT: TOO SEXY!

And by a 4-3 judges’ decision, it appears that Matthew McConaughey is too sexy for his own good.