Knockout Jail Conditions

   He doesn't find his accommodations suitable.
   Not for a man of his status.
   He's only eating 800 calories a day... not his usual 3,000 or 4,000 per day.
   He just can't get his "normal" workout in while confined to a 7 x 12 foot cell.

   Can someone please inform Floyd Mayweather that he is in jail, not a luxury vacation resort?
    Can you let him know he's there for beating up his ex-girlfriend?
   Can we remind him that he did so in front of two of his children?
   Apparently, Prisoner Mayweather doesn't think penalties for his crime should be punitive.
   Attorneys for the Prisoner have filed a Motion to allow him to serve the rest of his sentence either in the prisons general population, presumably so there will be around to adore him.
   Or maybe to be beaten by him... you know, like he did his ex-girlfriend.
   Wait... I suspect you are thinking that the Prisoner and his attorney just want the Prisoner to be allowed to serve the remainder of his term in his posh mansion.
   No.. they have graciously indicated to the Court that they would be "willing" to accept allowing the prisoner to rent a less luxurious apartment instead.
   I'm reasonably confident that the judges down at 201 Poplar today did not end sentencing of several hundred "ordinary" prisoners by asking them where they would choose to serve their time and what special accommodations they would require.
   Keep in mind, the Prisoner was already allowed to delay his sentence so that he could make millions on the Cotto fight.
   Can we conveniently overlook the fact that at least 4 other times he's been charged with violent crime.
   His attorney argues that 90 days in jail might cause such a deterioration in his physical condition that he may not be able to box again.
   His attorney didn't mention whether he would still be able to beat his ex-girlfriend.
   Here's a rather simple suggestions:  if you find the conditions in jail objectionable, stop committing violent crimes.
   Maybe the Prisoner can find a television in the prison common area and watch an old Baretta rerun... sounds like the Prisoner needs to hear Sammy Davis, Jr. sing "don't do the crime if you can't do the time... don't do it... don't do it."
  
  
  
  

"Enough Of This Running Shit"

   In my favorite scene from "The Untouchables", Sean Connery is running down a bad guy, when he realizes, "oh yeah, I have a gun."
   "Enough of this running shit," he says breathlessly, pulling his exactly as fast as a speeding bullet chase ender.

   I'm not intimidated going to work out at a gym.  That could be because the crowd at my particular location is composed almost exclusively of either:  a) men even older that me (even though the 13 year old does not think that's possible) hoping to be noticed by hot girl even younger than me, or b) mommies who have just dropped the kid or 12 off trying to enjoy a moment of silence.  Sadly for Group A, Group B is not interested. 
   Still, this atmosphere does not attract the kind of muscle head workout freaks that make it difficult for an 800 pound man to go unnoticed huffing and puffing on an elliptical runner.
   Besides, there's air conditioning.
   And a tv on every machine.
   With cable.
   If there were only an automatic Snickers feeder, it would be the perfect workout environment.
   Running outside over real earth... now, that's intimidating.
   People who drive to a location outside, with trails.  And hills.  And portapotties... those people take running seriously.
    Guys wear running shorts that would be considered obscene, even in a strip club.
    I'm not one of those runners, and to avoid the remote possibility of intimidating other non-runners, I do everything I can to avoid looking like one.
    Of course, this ignores the obvious fact that the speed of my "run" barely exceeds the walk of someone seriously looking for a restroom in the mall.  That's kind of a giveaway.
    I do not wear the latest Nike running wear that breathes, wicks away sweat and gently massages my nipples as I run.  I wear an Insane Clown Posse t-shirt.  No lightweight barely there shorts for me... full-on basketball-length shorts for me that barely, by definition, can be called short.

"Watch it wiggle.  See it jiggle."

   As I run down the section of the Shelby Farms trail that runs parallel to Germantown Road, I can almost hear the people in the cars as they approach me.
   "Look... fat guy running... bet he starts walking in 12 seconds."
   "I've got 8 seconds."
   "14 seconds, he may have just... no wait. He stopped.  Who had 6 seconds?"
   "OK, new bet... 9 minutes until he collapses with a massive heart attack.
    "Four minutes."
    "No, he's going so slow a heart attack would actually speed him up.  There's no way... OK... guess I was wrong."
    "Should be give him a ride?"
   "Maybe we could just go give him a beer."
"Or maybe a cheeseburger."
   "D... all of the above," I summon enough strength to shout out.  Maybe not shout.  If they heard, they didn't stop.  Or toss me a cheeseburger.
   I hear runners talking about endorphins being released, and such bizarre things that I have put on the same level as pixie dust or pet unicorns.  But it might be true.  Running through a nature trail, I do encounter actual elements of nature.  As I ran past some flowers, or maybe weeds... I really don't know the difference... two bees began flying beside me.  Apparently, I was so in tune with nature at this moment that their buzz was actually understandable to me."
   "You can have this one if you want," one bee said.
   "Nah, I'm trying to cut the fat out of my diet.  Let's find another one."
   "It'll be hard to find one this easy to catch... you sure?"
   "Yeah, I'll pass."  And they were off.
   Two girls ran past me as if I were running backwards.  That is a hypothetical statement.  I could grow antlers and join Santa's backup sleigh team easier than I could run backwards.  Judging by the number of "likes" and "o-m-g's", I'm estimating they might have been 6th graders. 
    As they pulled even with me, I heard them say to each other, "Should we like offer to carry him or something... like, I think he might be dying and stuff."
   "How did he even get here... I think he's too old to drive."
   I attempted to politely answer and wheezed out what I thought was "thanks, but I'm good."
   I'm not sure what actually came out of my mouth, but they started running faster.  Much faster.
   This was the first time I had tried to run with RunKeeper, and about this time, the lovely voice came out of nowhere to tell me "you have run one quarter of a mile."  I almost had time to feel proud before realizing Ms. RunKeeper was not finished.  "And I use the term "run" loosely."
   Bitch!
  "Normally, at this time, I would tell you your average mile time, but I am programmed to run on a stopwatch, not a calendar.  Perhaps we could use a saw-you-in-half ap and carbon date your speed."
   Ms. Runkeeper and I spent the next 10 minutes in a profane verbal war.  Running.. not really my thing.  Caustically funny and profane war of words... yeah, I've got that.
  

McOops

   McDonalds has a new item on the dollar menu.. the Grilled Onion Cheddar burger.
   I have a fairly simple theory when it comes to McDonalds... If I'm going to settle for something as sub-mediocre as McDonald's, I might as well not pay much to do it.
   So when I asked the McCounter dude about the new Grilled Onion CHEDDAR, I simply assumed he had misspoken when he described it as a burger with grilled onion and swiss cheese. 

   He did not misspeak.  The Grilled Onion Cheddar arrived, complete with Swiss Cheese, but sans cheddar.
   There's a giant banner on top of the McRoof where the word cheddar stands out like my giant bald head.
   I'm just saying, maybe this is what you deserve when you put a red-shoed clown in charge of the menu.
   This was sort of like the time I was enjoying the sights and cuisine of Maui and ordered a Hawaiian Pizza.  Yeah.. not really their thing.  Apparently, any fast food with pineapple must, by law, have Hawaiian in the name, whether actual Hawaiians have ever consumed the food or not.

   I get that not all food names should not be taken literally.  I do realize that hot dogs contain no actual dog meat. Only contestants on Fear Factor would seriously think that name is an actual descriptive name.  Welsh Rabbit contains no actual rabbit.  In fact, the name comes from the time when the poor in Welsh would make the melted cheese over bread dish, with their being a "rare bit" of meat.  Irony being what it is, the name morphed.
   Just a word of warning... "sweetbread" is neither "sweet" nor "bread" but rather some marketing deparment's deceptive ploy to make "fried pancreas" have a least a small chance of being ordered.
   Fortunately, "pico de gallo" contains neither roosters nor beaks.
   Refried beans, in reality, are fried only once.
   You do not need to worry about eating dry shards of fuzzy threads while eating "pigs in a blanket", and franly, given the questionable quasi-meat content of hot dogs, they may not contain any pig either.
   I'm relatively confident, no french people are harmed in the making of french fries.
   I"m just saying, if you put the name of a particular food item in the overall food product, that descriptive food should actually be included in the recipe.
   If I order a chili dog, I expect chili.
   If I order pepperoni pizza, although I really have no idea what pepperoni is, I know I need to some some red-food-like circles on the pie. 
   If I order chocolate pie, I'm really not expecting to bite into giant chunks of delicious apples.  
   Did you ever eat an Elephants Ear at the Fair, only to go to the circus and see that all elephants present still had both giant floppy ears?
   So my vegetarian friends, I can confirm that it is safe for you to eat Bear Claws.  No actual bears were mutated in the making of the pastry.
   Just to be safe, I'm never eating anything named Spotted Dick.

A Different Kind of Winner

   This is the time of year in high school where championship track meet after track meet occurs in state after state.  Almost none of those raised get national media attention.  Meghan Vogel did... not for winning, but for coming in dead last.
   Vogel knows about competiton and winning.  Early in the meet, she won the state title in the 1600 meter race.  Later, running in the 3200 meter race, she found herself 20 feet from the finish line, when a competitor, Arden McGrath cramped and fell in front of her.  Instead of moving past her fallen competiton, Vogel stopped, helped McGrath to her feet and across the finish line, making sure that McGrath crossed the finish line first.  The pair crossed the finish line in last place, but to a standing ovation. 
Meghan Vogel Video
   The shocking thing to me when I heard this story was not that someone had chosen to value sportsmanship over competiton, compassion over winning; but that the host discussing this actually considered this an example of what is wrong in sports:  that Americans don't value winning any more.  Really? 
   First, consider that Vogel had already won... a state championship no less.  She knows how to compete.  But she also knows how to care.  The problem is not that she did not have a winning attitude; the credit is that she did not have a win-at-all-costs attitude.
   The reality is that in every athletic event, there will be a winner and a loser, athletically speaking.  If winning were only to be measured in who "wins" the athletic competition, then why would a team that is overmatched bother to compete.  A team sensing certain loss could just walk away and never start the game, and in doing so, would lose the overall point of athletic competition. 

  Consider the Central Washinton University softball team.   Sara Tuchlosky hit the game winning home run for Western Oregon Universtiy, but injured herself rounding first and could not round the bases.  If her team helped her, she would be out. She could have stopped at first, had a pinch runner enter the game and hope for the best.  Instead, the players from Central Washington asked the umpire if there were any rule against them helping her around ther bases.  There is not.  They carried their opponent around the bases, stopping for her to touch each base.  They lost a game.  They won an ESPY.  They claimed a moving place in the histroy of sportmanship.  Drive around town and you see a billboard tribute to their act of kindness... thousands of miles away.  Safe to say, the winner of the game would never have appeared on a billboard in Memphis.  Want to call them losers?

   During the 1992 Olympics, British sprinter Derek Redmond pulled up lame as he approached the finish of a dream.  A pulled hamstring would prevent him from finishing the 400 metre sprint.  But Redmond had worked too long and too hard not to cross the finish line.  He continued to hobble in pain for the final lap, a cheering crowd realizing that sometimes you have to look past the finsh line to find all of the winners.  When the pain was becoming too great for Redmond, one man came from the stands onto the track, Jim Redmond, Derek's father.  65,000 cheered as father and son completed a dream together.  Sounds like winning to me.  Sounds like the Olympic Spirit to me.  "Swifter, Higher, Stronger"... the Olympic motto seems to fit.  Apparently the founders of the Olympic games knew moments like this would be the heart of the games, thus not choosing a Ricky-Bobby-esque "If you ain't first, you're last" motto for the games.
   Memphis made an appearnce at this year's Oscars when the film "Undefeated" won for best documentary.  The movie chronicles the rise of the historically anemic Manassas football team after volunteer coach Bill Courtney took over the inner city school.  Six years later, the team won its first playoff game ever.  But if you get the chance to watch the film, ask yourself this question... would the films story be any less of a success had they lost that playoff game?  Would the changed lives still be changed if the game had ended with a different score? 
   If you think the only place to find a winner is on the scoreboard, perhaps you are simply working with a faulty definition of "winning."

Food Dude

   Let's be honest... my only purpose for existing on this planet is to be the next Food Network Star. 
   Seriously, if you disagree, then I need you to offer any other possible explanation for my life.
   Ok... maybe that could be my effort to have a nap time built into everyone's work day.
   Or my one man crusade to eradicate croutons from the planet.  I mean, really, why should I have a bad case of Cap'n Crunch mouth after eating a salad? 

   In every previous season of Food Network Star, there has been an eclectic mix of formally trained chefs, home cooks and a smattering of performers who can also cook.
   This year's new competitive format presents 3 coaches, Bobby Flay, Alton Brown and Giada DeLaurentis, each choosing a team of well-trained cooks.  Four weeks in, its clear they all forgot to choose anyone with even an appetizer sized portion of on-camera talent.
   In previous seasons, there have always been a few of the contestants that stood out as people whose show I would want to watch.  This season, so far I have yet to see one person who makes me want to watch.  Linkie is a little bit interesting.  I'd love to see more Hawaiian cooking than Ippy has brought to the table so far.  I'm not sure Emily Ellyn is any more genuine than her name, and I really have trouble imaganing Little Emily's Mom squeezing out a glasses-wearing Hipster and going, "Yeah, Emily... let's call her Emily Ellyn."  "Emily Elaine Ellyn", we might as well guess.  I mean, a trendy pair of glasses a food star does not make, otherwise, me and my RayBans would be on Team Alton.
   Judson had his butt saved by the rest of his team.  I believe the line "One of my mottos is food plus fashion equals love" is the only thing that will be remembered from what I expect to be a short stay on the show.  His coach is food brainiac, Alton Brown.  Perhaps Mr. Brown can be a grammarian for a moment and explain that one's "motto" by definition should be something the person has actually said before.  That the line makes the list of Stupidest Sentences Ever Uttered by a Human.
   The first-time team using the team format caused a much better cook and peformer to be turned into leftovers too soon.  It seems odd that on a season where the coaches chose teams based on cooking ability, the judges are sending home people based on their on-camera talent.  Obviously, its hard to evaluate food that is only seen and not tasted, but Eric's spin on fish sticks seemed like something I'd want to cook.  Ippy's Salsbury Steak is definitely one I'd want to try.  By contrast, on the teams that had to put someone up for elimination, Martie seems just like a cross between the Pioneer Lady and Paula Deen.  Her remake of tuna casserole was little more than stacking the ingredients in a different manner.  From Team Bobby, Michelle's presentation was just plain awful and there was nothing about her dish that seemed unique... she breaded a fish.  So did Mrs. Paul. 
   
    Four weeks in, Justin Warner seems like the closest this season gets to a front-runner.  Emily could survive, as could Nikki.  I'm just not convinced I'd spend the time to set the DVR to watch a show from any of them.  They may crown a king or queen of quirky, but there is no Sandwich King in this cast.  The top guy will definitley not be the next Guy Fieri.  Maybe they could borrow a new contestant from the cast of  Flava of Love.  I doubt any of them can cook, but damn, they made for entertaining tv.

Happy Motoring

   The 13 year old wants to drive.  She thinks she should get her hardship licences the minute she turns 14.  I'm not sure what her "hardship" is, and I doubt she knows either.  Still, she wants the hardship license.
   And assumes that a car will magically fall from the sky for her to drive the instant her license is granted.
   To he credit, she's read all the driver's regulations to get a hardship license.  She's even read the rules about when 14 year olds can work, and begun making a list of places that would hire a 14 year old.
   She wants a drivers license.  
   She  wants to drive.
   She has never said anything about wanting to be a "motorist".
   I doubt she has ever used the word "motorist".
   Frankly, I doubt the word "motorist" has ever been used by anyone other than an news anchor, which makes me wonder why that particular class of people insists on using such a non-word.
   Generally speaking, no one wants to be labeled any kind of "ist".  You will find yourself in deep trouble if you call someone a racist, sexist, ageist, fatist, atheist... or, worst of all, a hairist.  My people have been discrimiated against since Samson got the world's most famous hair cut.
   So, etymologically speaking, does this meat a motorist is one who has a innate bias against motors?
   Is there something wrong with the word "driver."  I understand that somewhere along the way, someone got in a fender bender in his Model T and some mustached news director yelled that his staff needed to stop saying "driver" so much and get a Thesaurus.  The thing is in a medium where writers are taught to be conversational, reaching for a book that lists similar, but unused, words is anything but conversational.
   If the word motorist is going to be used, we must have an accurate definition, which I am going to conclude, from context, must be "one who uses a motor."
   In today's world, don't we all use motors constantly, not just when driving a car.. or, excuse me, motoring a motorized transporation device?  And, why does the "motorist" wreck his "car"?  If they are going to say "motorist", why do they not also occasionally refer to cars as "motorized vehicles", or "magic wheeled horses of the gods"?
   Doesn't the computer I'm typing on have a motor?  So, at this moment, I am a motorist.  Hope I don't get a speeding ticket while motoring!
   Step in a building with a working air conditioner, and congratulaitons, you are a motorist... and happy.
   Use an electric toothbursh, you're a motorist.
   But wait... if you use a tooth-brush... maybe you are a painter... becasue painters uses brushes and you are using a brush.
   Or maybe you are a kindergartener.... becasue you are using paste.. and kindergarteners use paste.
   I'm not saying that every sentence ever written for broadcast must first be diagramed by a third grade English teacher for accuracy, and the writer forced to miss recess if a participle is dangled.(trust me, that really an English thing, I"m not being a perv.)  
   Read above, and you will find several technical violations of the rules of grammar.  But, I think, those violations are very conversational in nature. 
   So, my broadcast friends, I guess I"m just offering a simple reminder that "we've always done it that way" is not a good reason to keep doing silly things.
   Don't get me started on "allegedly".   The word does not cast a magic spell preventing lawsuits.  I promise.
   Until next time, happy motoring.

The Pacifist Goes to War

    I have to admit, spending a career as a professional arguer has turned me into something of a pacifist, so I don't really get the whole "Cupcake War" thing.
   Cupcakes never did anything to hurt me... my waistline, maybe, but not me.  True enough, good cupcakes might be responsbile for the South wing on my School  House figure.  But to be perfectly honest, I was a willing participant in that caloric construction project.
   But the omnipotent Food Network, the de facto ruler of my culinary universe, has decreed that we may no longer simply bake cupcakes, decorate cupcakes, and eat cupcakes... we must do war.
   If I have to battle with something culinary, a pineapple seems like a good weapon of choice.

   I had been contemplating some sort of muffin creation for the next time I needed to cook to impress.  I found myself at a reception enjoying the juicy explosions of fresh cut pineapple.  Since I really don't like dry baked goods, I had my project idea.  My first thought was a simple pineapple muffin with a rum caramel sauce to drizzle the top (and somewhere down the road, that combination will be used), but as I ran through possibilities, I settled on an effort to morph the traditional Pineapple Upside Down Cake into a fit-in-the-hand glob of gooey goodness... hence, the Pineapple Upside Down Muffin. 
   In my taste world, pineapple and coconut go together like peanut butter and jelly, bacon and eggs or french fries and hot wing sauce (just trust me on that one).  I started by covering the bottom of the cups of my muffin pans with a light cover of coconut flakes  On top of that, I spooned the brown sugar and pineapple mixture (recipe below) that forms the tasty bottom that after cooking becomes the gooey top.  Although the recipe was inspired by fresh pineapple, and the usual pineapple upside down cake calls for Pineapple Circles, I like to use crushed pineapple, which I split betwen the topping and the cake.  I like the texture it gives the topping, and the juicy bits of pineapple left in the cake. 
   Pineapple bits and pineapple juice permeate the cake portion, making every bit juicy and flavorful.  I spread the batter between 24 muffins, since I don't want any of the individual muffins to get too puffy on top, since the top will become the bottom.  In my oven, they cook to perfection in right at 19 minutes.  As always, your time may vary.  During the cooking process, the muffins will puff up a bit. looking like traditional cupcakes, but as they cool, the cake will flatten out.

Ingredients
1/2 cup of coconut flakes
4 tablespoons of butter
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1 teaspoon of cinnamon
1 12 oz can of crushed pineapple (approx. 1/3 of can for topping, the remainder in the cake mix)
1 1/2 cups of all purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup sugar
6 tablespoons of softened butter
2 teaspoons of vanilla
2 egg whites
1/2 cup milk

   First, sprinkle the coconut between the 24 muffin cups.  Melt 4 tablespoons of butter, adding the brown sugar and cinnamon, stirring until they are well blended.  Add around 1/3 of the crushed pineapple.  Spoon that mixture evenly over the coconut in the muffin cups.
   For the batter, mix the flour and baking powder and set aside.  Blend the butter and sugar together until starting to mix, but being careful not to over whip the butter.  Add the vanilla and egg whites and blend into the sugar/butter mixtue.  Mix the milk and around 1/2 cup of pineapple juice.  Alternate adding portions of the flour mixture and the milk and pineapple juice mixture, still being careful not to over beat the mixture.  Once mixed well, add in the remaining crushed pineapple and stir into the mixture.  Spoon  the mixture evenly among the muffin cups, not exceeding around 3/4 of each cup so that the muffins don't rise too much.  Cook for between 18 and 20 minutes, using the toothpick test to measure doneness.
    Let the muffins cool for 5 to 10 minutes, then run a knife around the muffin to separage the sides from the pan. Take a cookie sheet, place it on top of the muffin pan, and flip. With the muffin pan sitting upside down, use the knife to drum on top of each muffin cup to be certain the muffin comes out. CAREFULLY remove the pan, peeking under to know if any muffins are sticking.
   If you like a good hot desert, grab one and eat it right away.  Personally, I like to let them cool a bit, but they are delicious either way.  If I were truly in a cupcake war, I suppose I'd craft some sort of mock beach setting on the plate and serve the cupcakes inside a half coconut shell or something like that.  But I'm a pacifist.... and a guy... so I'd rather just eat and save the food art for someone who weighs at least 300 pounds less than me.