And only four died in the whiskey-induced, post-funeral brawl

During the Great Storm of 1781, John Jameson, your typical, average whisky-swilling Irishman, lost a barrel of his beloved hooch, which broke loose and fell into the raging sea.

Did I mention that John Jameson was Irish? 'Cause that's kind of important in understanding why he would proceed to commit suicide by diving into the storm-tossed ocean in an attempt to recover one of the roughly 10,000 barrels of fermented corn his ship was carrying.

I'm not even going to touch the "he said goodbye to his crew" line, which accompanies a scene in which John Jameson is giving an open-mouthed, passionate kiss to a decidedly feminine-looking crew mate. Bad writing? Bad editing? You make the call.

And now we've come to the LOL EPIC punchline. You see, all of Ireland- roughly one million potato-munching, famine-fleeing, pasty-skinned, red-haired, hot-tempered and above all Liquor-Obsessed cabbage junkies- turned out for John Jameson's funeral. As the legend goes, John Jameson himself appeared during the ceremony, crawling out of the sea with the wayward barrel of whiskey on one shoulder. Good times, we may assume, where had by all.

After all, these are Irish people. And now they have whiskey. What else could they possibly want- food? Land? That's what America is for!

I wonder how many posters who complained about my take on last year's racist (sorry, but that's what it was) State Farm ad will let me know that this commercial is in no way offensive to anyone with Irish ancestry (full disclosure: I'm one-fourth Irish myself, though I don't look it.) Maybe it's just poking fun at a beloved, cherished stereotype and I just need to let it go.

Or maybe it's time for advertisers to figure out that "Irish =Alcohol-Loving Idiots" is not really an appropriate way to sell us their product in the 21st century. After all, we haven't seen "Mama Mia thatsa Spicy Meatball!" in more than thirty years (and as someone who is also one-quarter Italian, I really appreciate that.)

By the way, why did this ad even bother with the octopus? Did they think that jumping into the ocean during a hurricane wasn't lethal-looking enough?

Buy this product, unless you really do hate your dog, you monster!

Wow, I bet all you dog owners never realized how you were TORTURING and ABUSING your little friends every time you put that leash on, did you?

Well, now you know why your dogs have always LOATHED the idea of taking a walk- I mean, has there ever been any harder task than trying to get Fido out of the house for a few minutes to partake in a little exercise with his clueless master? From all the encounters I've had from dog owners over the years, I've come to the conclusion that trying to get a dog to take a walk is like trying to get a teen-ager to part with her cellphone. Like pulling teeth.

Ok, I'm being facetious, of course. Actually, every dog I've ever met must be a big fan of having it's neck bones crushed by brutal, Medieval-style "choke chains," because they can't seem to get ENOUGH of walks with their owners. I've never heard a dog whine because it's wearing one of these collars- though I suspect that if you yank on that leash really hard, you WILL hurt your dog and you WILL be rewarded with this kind of plaintive, "what did I do?" appeal for mercy. I also suspect that if you are the kind of person who would actually do this to a dog, you have no business owning one, you disgusting brute.

So according to this commercial, the "answer" to a question nobody asked is a cheap-looking vest which allows you to control your dog by applying pressure to it's breastplate rather than it's neck. I have to admit, this actually makes perfect sense.

So I'm not actually criticizing the product here- just the Massive Guilt Trip used to sell it. I believe that this little vest device, if it's built properly and with quality materials (snicker), might actually be a nice thing to have (I suspect it lasts a lot longer with smaller dogs than larger ones.) But I don't believe that we've spent thousands of years unwittingly crushing the neck vertebrae of our four-legged friends every time we take them for a walk. And I don't appreciate the accusation that using regular collars basically makes dog owners the modern Spanish Inquisition.

Short, Sweet and Stupid

Four times a week, this woman tells us, she runs. Good for her. More people out there need to run- or at least walk. Move. Stop sitting so damned much.

I just came back from a week grading AP exams in Louisville, Kentucky. I estimate that 80 percent of that town's population is obese- slow, fat, sweaty, etc. I believe that the official Sport of Louisville is Waddling. At one of the three Bats games I attended at Slugger Field, I saw dozens of overweight slobs shoveling fried chicken and french fries into their faces and washing it all down with massive cups of soda or beer. It didn't matter that it was roughly 95 degrees out. It didn't matter that these people HAD to be terribly uncomfortable with their excess bulk. It was all about the food.

We graded exams for eight hours a day, for six straight days. Three times a day, we were given buffet-style meals (I was a good boy, I stuck to the Vegetarian options all week, still gained two pounds.) At mid-morning and mid-afternoon, we had a snack breaks- granola bars, fruit, chips, cookies, slices of cake....plus, there were piles of candy sitting at our grading table "to keep our energy up." It would have been very easy to just eat, nonstop, all week. Fortunately I got bored with the food after the first day and nibbled most of the rest of the week, and got in a lot of walks along the beautiful waterfront.

Ok, enough about me and Louisville. Let's get back to this little nothing of an ad. This woman tells us that she runs. Four times a day. And she KNOWS she's supposed to drink water after her run- but she clearly doesn't know WHY, otherwise she would not make the really stupid, self-destructive mistake she makes after each run. You see, dummy, you are supposed to drink water because you've just gone through a process of dehydration- you've made your muscles work extra hard, and they need to recover.

What do you do instead? You get yourself a huge cup of ultra-dehydrating coffee, doused with sugar and fatty cream. So you are not satisfied simply negating a positive thing you've done for your body by putting back all the calories you just managed to burn. You insist on DAMAGING your body just when it is vulnerable.

And you do it with a stupid smile on your face. And a giggle. Brilliant.

Listen, lady- this is not advice I give to many people, but I'll give it to you: do yourself a big favor and cut out those daily runs. If they end with half a gallon of caffeine, sugar and fat, they simply aren't worth it. Just sit on your butt and drink water instead. Trust me- your heart will thank you. So, by the way, will your wallet.

Oh, I get it. I'm part of the problem!

Think oil company owners are greedy, avaricious bastards determined to rape every corner of the planet if it means stuffing even larger wads of cash into their already bloated off-shore accounts? Think that all their talk of "green technology" and "clean coal" (seriously. Clean Coal.) is just smoke and mirrors intended to distract the tree huggers while every last ounce of ancient black ooze is sucked out of the Earth's orifices? Think that the only thing that oil executives have in common with seagulls is that they would both steal a bagel from a baby (not an original joke, but I can't remember which comedian I heard it from?)

Well, it turns out that if you think any of the above, you are only damming yourself. Because if you have money in the bank, or drive a car, or basically do anything beyond breathe, you are the owner of an oil company. So stuff your righteous criticisms in a sack, buddy- you own an oil company, just like the guys who make hundreds of millions of dollars a year, zip around the world in private jets, and own multiple homes on every continent (ok, maybe not Antarctica, but you get what I mean.)

So stop picking on the poor oil executives, and stop bitching about what you mistakenly see as bloated profits reaped from price gouging and futures-fixing and government-purchasing and environment-destroying. Because you are only picking on yourself. Maybe you aren't sitting on a mountain of blood money, maybe you aren't directly contributing to the suffocation of the planet, but you are the owner of an oil company. So quit your bitching.

And call your Congressman, and tell him to get the government to stop asking you annoying questions about your finances, Mr Oil Company Owner- because gosh darn it, you've got enough problems without having the Hippies giving you a hassle.

Because you're an oil company owner, and don't you forget whose team you are on.

Jell-O Spreads the Hate

Unwilling to let Volkswagen, Sprint and Kraft Mac 'n Cheese corner the market in loathsomeness, Jell-O has inaugurated a series of Parents v. Kids commercials in which Mommy and Daddy terrorize their kids into keeping their hands off of the Made for Adults desserts.

In this version, Mom and Dad are perfectly willing to traumatize Son and Daughter with stories of "Choco-Beasts" instead of simply ASKING them to stop "stealing" their Jell-O. The kids, who will probably need years of therapy before they can ever sleep in a tent more than five feet from the house again, run terrified into the house, but it's all good because their parents get all the Chocolate Goo in a Cup to themselves.

All in good fun, because except for the soiled pajamas, fear of the dark and new-found distrust of their parents, no harm has been done to these kids.

Thanks, Jell-O!

Generic Advertising At Its Best

I challenge anyone to argue with anything this guy says. It's all so bland, so obvious, so "no duh what on Earth is your point?" repetitive and cloying (right down to the dull Empty Room with Escalator background) that for a moment, it left me wondering "who in the world would be inspired to go anywhere based on this ad?"

Then it hit me- despite what we are told at the end of the commercial with the "Possibility City" tag line, it's entirely conceivable that the pitchman has no idea what municipality he's supposed to be talking about. It's easy to imagine this ad being used to encourage tourism and business investment in ANY city ANYWHERE in the United States. This commercial has NOTHING to do with Louisville, Kentucky- it's just a standard, Fill-in-the-name-of-customer-here advertisement available to any local Chamber of Commerce looking for a cheap little spot to run during baseball games or between other commercials.

Not that this ad even succeeds in encouraging investment or tourism. I mean, if you hear a single line which suggests that I should open my wallet and spend some money in Louisville Kentucky OR ANYWHERE ELSE, please point it out to me. All I hear in this ad is that cities are iffy, Hit or Miss propositions. They can be great. Or they can suck. They can provide inspire. Or Depress. They can provide a wonderful education. Or they can beat you over the head and deprive you of aforementioned wallet. And on and on.

Anyway, to the point: I will be in Possibility City for the next nine days, grading Advanced Placement essays with 1200 history teachers from all over the Not As Full of Possibilities as Louisville United States. So my next blog update won't appear until June 9. I will, however, be checking my email and responding to comments while I'm away. Later!!

Is there Life After Hockey?

"Dream come true?" "Happiest day of his life?" REALLY?

Spending a day with the Stanley Cup "and all his friends" is going to do this? REALLY?

Um, how, exactly? I mean, I get that this kid is a "big hockey fan"- but actually, let's start right there. Who the hell is a "hockey fan?" Surely they mean that he's a fan of a professional hockey TEAM, right? I mean, the kid doesn't really just follow professional hockey without rooting for a particular team, does he? Because that's actually pretty stupid (not quite as stupid as his 70s-style shorts, but pretty close.)

And mom telling us that this is a "hockey family-we're crazy." Thanks for telling us what is already obvious, Weird Mom. Just wondering- what do you guys do during the offseason (otherwise known as the month of August?)

Let's be real for a moment. For exactly how long will it be really be Super Awesome Amazing to have this big, ugly trophy sitting around? I give it thirty minutes, tops, before the kids get sick of looking at it and touching it and having their pictures taken with it and want to move on to do something else.

Now, maybe if this kid's team had actually WON the cup,* and paid him a visit, and gave him a tour of the locker room and a behind the scenes look at the rink, etc. this might be an enjoyable, even extremely memorable experience. But- just having the trophy for a day? Is it just me, or does this seem like a lot of hype for not a whole lot of payoff?

I love when companies to do this- they make a colossal big deal out of very little, and are aided and abetted by the Discovery (no pun intended) of some weird loser who, with the help of his ultra-indulgent parents, has managed to devote his Just Getting Started But Not Much to Celebrate Life to some narrow niche activity which has turned him into an obsessive little creep with sadly limited interests. Truthfully, I don't think that this kid needs to spend a day with the Stanley Cup. I think he'd be better off getting out of his room every once in a while and trying out different activities. It would be nice to think that one day this kid wakes up and, like Frances with her bread and jam, suddenly realizes that variety isn't a bad thing, and that even your Very Favoriteist Thing Ever can become a real bore when you let it become the center of your existence.

Seriously- What am I missing here?

*Go Bruins