The Eighth Day

It is written that, "By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done."

This much, I believe is true.

But, the story as it exists in writing is incomplete. For there is a part of the story that exists only by word of mouth. At least, until now . . .

For generations, in every culture in every part of the world, the elders have passed on to the youth "The Story of the Eighth Day." It is told as follows:

On the eighth day, God slept in. He felt He had earned it, since He had been working for seven straight days without rest. When God arose in the latter part of the morning He found Himself desirous of sustenance. After sampling a morsel of each of His many creations, God found them lacking in both taste and nutritional value. This made Him sad. God contemplated destroying His greatest creation, but decided against it. For, overall, it was pretty good. Not good, just pretty good.

Then, He had an epiphany. In the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eighth day, God cleared his throat and said, "Let there be Wheaties. Let it be a simple comestible, to be consumed only with the milk of a cow. Let it be endorsed by only those that are capable of great feats of athletic achievement. And,* most importantly, let it be both good and good for you."

God looked at his newest and final creation. Using only a spoon, He sampled these Wheaties. Then, He smiled, for it was good.


*Editor's Note: God is allowed to start His sentences with And. He just is.

Conundrum!

It's happened to all of us . . . you're laying in bed. It's Saturday morning. You're not asleep. You're not awake. You're justifying staying in bed.

Then, it happens.

"Bu-dong!"

You know that noise. Of course you know that noise. It runs your life. It's the progeny of AOL's "You've Got Mail!"

Most importantly, it's a sign.

Not a sign to get out of bed. Well, maybe. But it's more a sign that something has happened in the electric world and you'll be damned if you don't find out what it is.

So you check your email. It's from facebook. "[Random girl] wants to be your friend," the email tells you. You rub your bloodshot eyes, shake out your hangover, and think, "I'm not sure I've ever met [Random girl]."

Now, chances are, you haven't. "But," you think, as any logical man would, "it's possible I just don't remember meeting her!"

So you check her facebook profile. Nothing too frightening there, except that she likes Grey's Anatomy. That can be overlooked. But that photo! Which one is [Random girl]?

Conundrum. You don't want some scud as your friend on facebook. Then again, that other girl is pretty cute . . .

So, you accept [Random girl]'s offer of friendship.

As it turns out, [Random girl] was the scud. And now you're stuck with her. Once again proving why you shouldn't talk to strangers.

THIS PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY TASERS. KEEPING STRANGERS OUT OF YOUR LIFE SINCE 1974.

Barbeque Sauce

Now that I have your attention.

It's almost impossible not to think about it once the amazing awesomeness that is Barbeque Sauce is mentioned.

That being said, it seems like we are experiencing a bit of a slow down here at TAMT, so in the meantime I have two words for you:

Barbeque Sauce.

Location, Location, Location

There's been some downtime here at TAMT, and there are a multitude of factors to attribute this to. One of which is that TAMT does not have a singular location that we operate from, and that's part of the problem. Dr. No has posited that our office is a metaphysical one that exists in the heart and mind of every man, woman, and child. Transcending space and time is pretty sweet, but I don't think we can get office supply shipments there.

It is this writer's opinion that TAMT needs a central space where we can Talk As Men Talk. There are some that argue that TAMT is a lifestyle, not a destination: they would be correct, but we also need to exist as a shining beacon to let the huddled masses know that there is hope in this grim world that forces them to talk as employees talk, as yes-men talk, as husbands talk, as siblings talk, as tax-payers talk, as the middle-class talk: we want people to be able to hold their heads up high and Talk As Men Talk.

That and we want to make some money. Partially for ourselves, but more to finance bigger and better TAMT operations - podcasts, radioshows, stripclubs, you name it. The goal here is to Talk As Men Talk not just as a hobby, but as a full time operation. I look to guys like Dick Vitale, a possessor of one of the greatest jobs in the world, who inspired me by saying something to the effect of, "I've never worked a day in my life. It's all been fun and I've gotten paid for it." Why shouldn't we all be so lucky?

That being said, we need an office. As anyone knows, you need a location to run business operations if you want to be an effective business. So far, our business model is borrowed from the South Parkian Underpants Gnome methodology:
Phase 1: Get an office.
Phase 2: ?
Phase 3: Profit.

As you can imagine, we aren't having tremendous initial success, especially since we can't complete phase 1. The other idea that we've been kicking around is starting a Bar. I think in concept this is great, because said Bar could double as an office and no one would think twice about us opening at 8am and pouring whiskey in the coffee to start the day. The disadvantage is that we'd probably have to shut down around 2 every day for a booze nap.

These are just some jumping off points. Food for thought, to be savored, then digested, but in this case, not excreted. But for now, it's back to work at the office that isn't a TAMT office, which is why we need the new one...

Kickin' it old school

TAMT noticed today that the Oakland A's are becoming one of the best teams in 2001 by signing such free agents as Orlando Cabrera, Jason Giambi, Nomar Garciaparra. With staple Eric Chavez, who had his better years in the past, they might make a run at the World Series title currently held by the Arizona Diamondbacks.

This isn't Haterade

Dr-No needs to do some fact checking. I am in no way saying that Bellicheat isn't a smart man, a genius coach, or possibly the only human being alive with a working heart of stone (medical records prove this). What Bellichick has done in his career is going to stand through the ages, and I'd hate to sit at the poker table with him. What I'm saying is that I have never seen a trade gift-wrapped like this since Gasol went to the Lakers. Cassel will struggle in KC because he probably won't spend a lot of time on his feet But if you're unloading a guy who has high stock, you get something equal to the value of that high stock. The 34th pick is not where this guy's stock was, especially with Vrabel thrown in there. Was this a fleecing by the Chiefs? Not by a long shot. But you would need six strippers with PhDs granted by Gregg Easterbrook himself all with statistical and empirical, pertaining to both the NFL season and the upcoming draft, to convince me that Bellichick didn't give his buddy in KC a gift.

Sippin the Kool Aid

I am sorry, but this is where j-dr and I will have to disagree. Like Wilbon, I'm sippin the Kool Aid. j-dr thinks that Bellichick is stupid, I think he is stupid like a fox. I am not so sure that Cassel is the super talent that everyone seems to think he is, but maybe that's just me. Sure, he threw for like 3,700 yards and had an 89 passer rating.

But, let's face facts. Who's Cassel dating? This girl. Sure, she's cute. But she's no Giselle. As a wise man once said, "Winners go home and f--k the prom queen." Since Cassel's girl is no prom queen, it only follows that he is no winner.

It was brilliant to unload him now, while his stock was still high. Trust me, a year from now, people will be saying Cassel who?