Sunday, December 16, 2007

Just One Fix

Can you imagine how many dudes would have gotten outed if George Mitchell had anything more with which to work than one clubhouse rat that flipped?

This Radomski cat had checks and FedEx slips. Why didn't these guys just shoot up in the on-deck circle? I'm sure glad I never had to rob a house with any of these players. Don't these dudes have cash lying around? Granted, having grown up in the 'hood, I'm shady and I know how to keep it real. But, if I were a ball player with a 7, 8-figure salary and reputation to protect, I'd have a safe deposit box and storage locker in every city. You'd have to get the CIA if you wanted to catch me.

To boot, Andy Pettitte copped to it. Sure, he can figure on sympathy based on the circumstances and his erstwhile wholesome image. But, faced with this situation, I would invoke a quote often attributed to John Gotti; "If I robbed a church and had a steeple sticking out of my ass, I'd deny it too."

Roger Clemens won't get such sympathy. Despite being previously linked, he was never vilified like Barroid has been. Somehow, the world overlooked that, throughout his career, Clemens has been every bit the prick we've portrayed Bonds to be. After a previous 4-year downtrend, we can easily draw the inference that the sauce revitalized Clemens' sputtering career.

The real issue, for me, is that this all went down under MLB's flag, with its tacit, if not implicit, approval; part Boss Hogg, part pro wrestling.

Just think of how many more cats they'd catch if they had a test, if they could track the dudes that know how to keep it on the DL, if more rats come out of the woodwork. Think about how much ticket prices have increased from 1994. Think about the stadia the taxpayers have financed, all the other money they've sucked out of you. They've all been lying to you they whole time.

It's no big deal, right? After all, since we're lied to at every turn, what's one more lie?

Friday, November 30, 2007


From some cat’s rear car window “Bonds 30 years for baseball Feel the hate” It’s more likely that somebody in government will do anything to get on TV. You may find this more productive.

The Federal Government, because that's what's important, has indicted Barry Bonds on four counts of perjury and one count of obstruction of justice. We didn’t even get to see Bonds do the perp walk. I trust that someone can coordinate the dockets so that the Bonds, Vick and OJ trials don't overlap, so that there will be no more such fuck-ups.

Our leaders lied to us- and it wasn’t even a quality lie- to initiate a war of conquest and we let them get away with it, yet we're now going to throw the book at Bonds for lying about whether he was on the sauce. We went through this exercise with Bill Clinton, for lying about getting head, while he wasn’t held accountable for Kosovo. The Clinton circus was slightly less ridiculous, but at higher taxpayer cost and just as pointless. The question is the same as it was then: What are we trying to prove?

Aside- spare me the conspiracy theories surrounding the Cheney cabal. Inherent in its definition is that a "conspiracy" is improvable. Sun Tzu figured out that "All war is based on deception," about 2500 years ago. The deception has been hitting us in the face like spitballs.

Clinton scoffed in our faces, but as Cheney scoffs at his image and Bush…Bush has this look on his face like he and his cabinet just ran train on your moms…does whatever it is that a mental patient in an empty suit does, we’re more concerned with who is on the sauce and whether they should get into the Hall of Fame, whether their records should get an asterisk. For this, we suddenly feel cheated, while pissing away our tax dollars is no big deal. I wonder what the reaction will be when it dawns on everyone that Canseco wasn’t off by far.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

On the subject of tipping...

Many people just don't like tipping. They look for tangible value for their tip and, not easily finding any, they see no point. The following is a response to a post on The Big Picture:

In NYC, we have the concept of buy-back, which seems to be lost on the rest of the country. Trendy Irish bars that kick you out at 1:30AM, charge douchebag prices, with women bartenders that have a sense of entitlement, " their pussy doesn't smell..." across the land, there's way too much of it and, except for the 1:30AM part, we're not immune. At the risk of stating the obvious, stay the fuck out of those places. If you can manage that...

...because I think there's karma involved- if you're good with a buck, it will find it's way back to you- admittedly, I tip excessively (usually over 30%). While I'm not saying that everyone should, you have to see beyond the money and what the bartender does to "earn" it. After all, you're not their boss and you'll come off as a piker.

More to the point, the bartender can be an ally in your hunt...especially if you don't have a reliable wingman...especially if the bartender is a hot piece of ass who has come to grips with her stank.

That usually takes cash, done tastefully, of course, and probably requires a return visit. It's just like with Congress; you can't necessarily buy their vote, but you can buy their ear and take it from there.

However, to avoid pointless tipping after every drink, as was noted, throw up the credit card, even if you plan to pay cash. That way, the bartender knows a payoff is in the offing...possibly a bigger payoff if, while tuned up, you think you've found a new buddy...and will work it accordingly.

Bottom line: you have to tip well.

All that said, the big picture's point about reverse-etiquette and the Louisville Slugger is well taken. Some bartenders are assholes beyond repair and it's no crime to want bang for your buck. Now that companies are freely tossing around rewards points, tipping your bartender, by comparison, is like paying the 20% premium for funny money at a strip club.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

The Age of Amateurs

For many years now, I’ve noticed the slow, but steady, infiltration of the Apple by foreigners. By foreigners, I mean people from Boston, the Midwest and other assorted cow-towns. It was all an inoffensive novelty until some weasel from Boston was elected Mayor. This weasel has proceeded to make impositions on how New Yorkers should live their lives. In sterilizing the place, he has made the place corporate friendly, made it safe for amateurs to come out of their holes after dark and enjoy the New York nightlife and made it possible to extract $3,500/mo. rent from said amateurs…a new set of suckers.

Of course, the obvious retort is that out-of-towners coming to New York is not a new phenomenon. You’d be correct. But, there is one key difference: It used to be that you had to get down to be down. The amateurs haven’t done this and neither has the weasel, but the weasel is not only down, he’s running things.

These must be signs of the apocalypse... at least, a sign that it may be time to abandon ship. The beaneaters have apparently set up operations in the East Village. If you’re a fan of New York sports teams, you’d be entering hostile territory in your home town. Not that I’m advocating or would condone it, but no one has even firebombed the joint. They are even able to wear their paraphernalia in public without getting the shit slapped out of them. While I can’t advocate that, either, if I notice anyone doing so, I’ll turn a blind eye. As Bostonians are notorious for being a miserable lot, the Apple is better off without them.

That’s not the half of it. I walked into some other dive after work- this is the fun job- one Saturday night right into a packed house. The whole place was tuned into the Georgia-Alabama football game and the place was packed to the gills with Alabama fans. My only guess was that the bartender was an alumnus; he had the fight song pumped in after every big play and during game stoppages. (Both of these schools are in “The Box,” which I’ll get into at a later time). In any event, these people were chanting along, hooting and hollering.

Aside- One girl even had a full Alabama cheerleading outfit. Had the idea for this blog been conceived, I'd have considered breaking my "no pictures, no cameras" rule. No great loss; she looked reasonably fit, but not as hot as you'd like to believe.

Granted, SEC football has been hot this year and this game was no exception. I walked in with about 6 minutes left in regulation. Alabama tied the game in the late stages and Georgia missed a field goal at the gun. Alabama kicked a FG in OT, but Georgia ended matters by going up top on its first offensive play. The place emptied out almost as fast as the air went out of there. That was good for me, as I was finally able to get to the bar for a drink (after all, I was in happy hour mode), but they cut deep into my drinking time.. As to whether I behaved myself, remember the title of this blog.

The silver lining in all this is that foreign (as defined above) girls are much less crabby than the natives. It is small consolation, as it's not news to anyone that has ventured beyond Staten Island. They adapt quickly, so get them before they grow a shell.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

And awaaay we go

Greetings, mortals! I am Bokolis. If you’ve found this- and I hadn’t already told you about it- you must be lost. I can’t promise you guidance, or any other type of direction, but I know a lot of useless shit. You may find your stay an entertaining and enlightening one, but far from G-rated.

Currently, I am a corporate wage-slave in the Corporate Finance wing of a major financial services entity. Since I can’t effectively fight the tapeworm, I’m trying to fight off the effects of age. I’ve decided to come out of the shadows because…well…there’s no use in sitting around any longer.

I’m not sure exactly what direction this will take. Besides the usual sports, boozin’ and poon-tang, I’ll bring up life. I’ll try to keep it as light as possible, but, as there is a ton of crap wrong in the world, it won’t always be the case. Being pragmatic, I don’t see much use in explaining and even less in complaining. So, when I do bring up a problem, I’ll hopefully provide a cogent, if not always viable, plan for its solution. In the process, I’ll poke fun at as much as I can because, in the end, that’s all the fuck I got.