Rocktober Bandwagon: Please drop me off at the Park-N-Ride

As I mentioned here, I donned my fair-weather-friend ball cap and proudly jumped on the Colorado Rockies bandwagon during their amazing ride through the playoffs and into the World Series. Now, here at the end of Rocktober, time for me to hop off.

I had planned to report in during the playoffs, but both games I had (still have) tickets to never happened as the Rockies swept in three the first series and then four games the second, and alas, I had tix to game four and game five, respectively.

Then they themselves got swept.

Getting swept happens more often than not these days, so no big deal to me there. However, three poorly handled events are making me jump off the bandwagon today. First was the complete debacle of how they handled ticket sales. Then, covering their error, they blamed Internet boogie men for trashing the site,(woooooo scary)and although that's a Federal crime (i think) they never officially reported it to the police or FBI or whatnot.

Really guys, poor show, and as a longtime hardcore (since you started winning) fan, may I say I deserved better.

Then there was the whole business of the team management trying to trademark the term Rocktober. Gee, you're right, I never heard that term before. . . well unless you heard any classic rock radio station ANYWHERE doing a "Rocktober" music marathon.

Today is the last straw for my hardcore fandom. This morning, on Halloween no less, they announced they would be having a Rockies rally at noon today downtown. At a park that has ZERO parking. And it's 34 degrees.

Yeah, um, let me know how that turns out, lads. I'm getting off at my stop right now. The local morning show radio personalities, Lewis and Floorwax (the Masters) on 103.5 the FOX fm were speculating on a low turnout of 5000-10,000 or so.

Ha! I'll say 2500 or less of the hardcore fan base. The ones without jobs. Or kids who want to go trick or treating. Or are immune to frigid temperatures. Let's see who will be right. Watch live here.

Anyway Rockies, see you next year. Well, you know, if you look like you are doing well and all that. I can't be hanging around if you're not winning, we're clear on that right?

SA

P.S. I try not to be a hater, but after watching him dance for awhile, Dinger is very annoying as a mascot. Purple + Dinosaur = Barney flashbacks.

I Do Loves Me Some Smooth Sales Pitch

I've been working on the Internet since it was invented (thanks Al,)and I have seen many the snake oil salesmen and corporate shills pitch me their intagible products and services for some time now, but none so smooth as this:



That is a first class pitch. This will change my life. Thank you Gabe and Max! Not to be confused with Sam and Max.

SA

Wordless Wednesday

A post without words? Sure, I can do that. Oops! Damn.

Anyway, this is what it looks like outside right now. How can I possibly stay in the office? A crime, I tell you.



Hmmm. Looks a little hazy, not doing it justice. I'll try in the morning with the sun at my back.

A view pulled back a bit:



You can see the little prairie dogs* popping up their heads on this one.
SA

(*What I like to refer to as the "little furry Hot Pockets of the plains.")

Sarcasm Answers

Well, that bit wasn't quite dead, but not what I hoped. I'll slip it back onto the shelf for now.

OK kids, the answers you've all been waiting for.

Jackie - Yes I will, mostly. Not good at that topic. What do you want to know?

Joanne - 1. Squid. Professional courtesy. 2. I filled out that on my profile for you. Currently enjoying these.

Dawn - No, in that case, he is exempt from fault. But he better suck it up and ask for directions to get out of the woods.

Minx - Yes. Yes? Yes. Try again soon.

Dating Tales - 1. Smartass: No one likes one of these. Snarky: Sophisticated humor, must be European. 2. Most likely you will have to settle in civil court, but get a good lawyer nonetheless, it makes the endless paperwork easier. Pay a reasonable retainer, and then just roll his/her costs into the suit when suing for damages. If you don't recover damages, he/she only keeps the retainer.

Tee-Plate - African or European? Hmmm, let's go with European. The average airspeed velocity of an unladen European Swallow is 10 meters per second.

That everyone?

SA

Sarcasm is Good. Sarcasm is Wise.

I've been sluggish on finishing the other two posts I've had in mind for this week, so I've decided I would open up the floor for a moment. I've been meaning to start some recurring bits here, let's try one, shall we?

Hmmm. Title. For the moment, let's call it "Ask Sarcasm Abounds." Not particularly catchy, but it will do in a pinch. I'll work on graphics in a bit. Meeting first.

I've had several meme tags which I have ignored out of hand, but if you really want to know something, now is the time to ask. One question per customer. Results may vary. Think of me as a snarky "Dear Abby"

Keep in mind that I am reasonably smart and very wise for a man of my years, and have been showered with awards, (I'm a Cat's Ass, beat that Mr. Gore!) and will be happy to address any burning questions you might have about advice, love, life, trivia, science, etc. Or you can squander your question on asking me about some mundane facet of my life, which I may answer truthfully or disregard out of hand.

So come closer...

Closer...

Hi.

What can Uncle Sarcasm answer for you today?


SA

(Of course, this bit has the potential to die horribly if no one asks any questions. In that event, I will amuse myself by answering any questions that come to my mind.)

Blog Action Day

This is to honor the Blog Action Day post that Joanne from The Laid-Back Buddhist requested.

While I am not as eco-concious as I should be, I do try. I no longer get newspapers or magazines, I try to re-use plastic bottles for awhile before I set them in the recycle bins, and I take our city's light-rail system when ever possible. I planted 10 trees in my yard in the last two years, and I keep our heat and AC systems off for as long as possible. If I can cut down on my red meat intake, I can smugly strut about in the knowledge that my carbon hoofprint is offset.

However, another brewing environmental disaster has reared its horned and shaggy head, and this one hits me in the softest part of my underbelly. (Purrr.)

If you've been reading here a bit, I have tried to make it clear that I wasn't raised with a silver spoon. I was raised by poor ex-hippies super liberal types who tried to instill their view of proper values within me. For the most part, it took.

However, as I have gotten older, and more able to sustain myself and my family, some of the "finer" things in life now call to me. Red Wine, a housekeeper, massages, and...cashmere.

Now, it's not like my folks dressed me in rough spun burlap sacks and shuffled me off to school each day, but I never had very nice clothes, mostly hand-me-downs or secondhands. I never had anything besides cotton sweaters from the Gaaaaap (in my best "Pat" imitation) and a couple of super itchy wool sweaters my far away auntie sent on Christmas.

That is, until I got older and could dress myself. Then one crisp fall day, back in '99, I bought my first cashmere sweater. Glorious would be the only way to describe the sensory output from this black v-neck, and soon we were in love. I wore it as often as I could without people starting to comment.

("What, this? No this is a different black cashmere sweater, I just happen to own three....")




Sadly if I only had carefully read the cleaning instructions, I'm sure we would be fast friends even to this day. . .

That type of article of clothing was as close to being metro sexual as I would get, but it started a love affair of all things cashmere for me. As I get older and have run out of things I want or need for any gifts, cashmere __________ is my stock answer. I now have ten sweaters, a scarf or two, even cashmere lined gloves! It's eight times warmer than wool, hard to wrinkle, has less pills and gets softer as you wear it. There are several sources of cashmere, but the largest and cheapest now comes from China.

Now, it has come to my attention that my love affair with this natural textile is bringing about the destruction of civilization!

Apparently, there are actually other humans on this planet as fond of cashmere as I am. This has spawned a huge boom in the farming of the goats - who's hair cashmere is made of. The demand is so great, the goods have actually gotten much cheaper.

These goats are very voracious consumers (much like my pugs) and will eat all the vegetation down to the very roots, strip bark from trees and woe betide anyone suffering from narcolepsy who goes down nearby a herd. They will wake up stripped of their flesh.

(Ok, probably not really, but still not a good idea.)



The mass expansion of these farms have now greatly contributed to the desertification of a large portion of China, which in turn causes more dust storms, which affects weather patterns worldwide, and especially in North America. All because of our need, my need, to consume.

So, in response to this global concern, I can act locally. I will no longer request cashmere, which will no longer be purchased for me, which will no doubt cause a worldwide glut of these goods, which will cause these farmers to switch of to far more sustainable crops, thus reducing the vegetation loss, and possibly return that grassland into a veritable paradise.

So, in years to come, if you see me strolling down the avenue in my ill-fitting, threadbare and ancient cashmere sweater, don't think of me as a poor dresser. Think of me as an environmentalist. I sacrificed so that future generations can still enjoy a fertile earth and breathe without a respirator.

You're welcome.

SA

Some sources that cover this topic in a more serious and scientific manner:

Chicago Tribune article on the true cost of cashmere

Treehugger article also covering it, and how to feel good on your purchasing decisions.

The Deep Blue (maybe a little green) Sea

This is for dear Domestic Minx, who is not too fond of the Big Blue. I recently traveled there myself for some scuba, and I can report on the denizens of said enviroment.

Now if I was a professional underwater photojournalist, I could hope that my photos looked like this:



I constanly fear this:



But as I was using a $30 camera with a pathetic flash, even 30' deep looks like the darkest abyss:


This albino starfish was as big a spare tire.

The scariest thing down there:


Me.

Please note that the shadowy tenacles behind me are in fact giant kelp, and not the giant squid that inhabit my nightmares.

SA

Saying Goodbye To An Old Redneck Friend

Last weekend, I said goodbye to an old friend. We had been together since my childhood, through good times and bad. Now, evil land developers have determined that we part ways. . .

I am speaking of my old redneck friend, the Cinderella Twin Drive-In. . .

My parents were not, shall we say, wealthy, and this became a major source of family entertainment. Many a Saturday night we would roll in, crunching through the lot in our '77 VW Rabbit, pull in and stick the clunky crappy speakers on our window. As a child, I saw "Superman 2" here, "The Aristocats" (which I still mistakenly refer to "The Aristocrats" as,) "Return of the Jedi", and countless 'Trek flicks.



Nothing gorgeous about this place, but it's been a comfy local landmark since the late '60s, and has survived as one of the last drive-ins in Colorado. Perhaps redneck is not the proper term for it, not just white trash either as it caters to all ages and ethnicity, but it has a distinctive run-down blue-collar feel to the place. A place where the adults drink Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the children eat Fiddle Faddle and Cow Tales.

In my childhood, they had some of the rustiest, most dangerous playground equipment know to man right in front of the screens for the kids. If you got hurt,(which I did on several occasions)there was no rush to the emergency room, no litigation, no first aid. Your folks would just wrap a sock or some such around the wound, and you would have to grit it out until the end of the double feature.



The playgrounds were long gone by my late teens, when my friends and I could borrow the family car, (still the Rabbit) so we would head there, perhaps with a couple of friends stashed in the trunk. Usually, we met up with others our age and formed large teen mobs, no doubt a source of irritation for the other patrons.

I made out with my first serious girlfriend there ("Moon over Parador", I think though I remember it not.) After our inevitable 2nd breakup, I watched "Say Anything" there with my consoling pals, and it seemed to help cauterize the wounds.

Then, as an adult I became involved in the endless singles scene, and never went back until I got married. We originally went as a nostalgic lark, however we had such a good time watching trashy movies and yelling at the screen in the privacy of our own car that we made the journey at least a couple of times a summer.

Sometimes we'd bring out camping chairs and sleeping bags, and watch under the beauty of the stars. And it is the only movie theatre in Colorado that you can take a $20 to the concession stand, buy a full load of junk food for two people, and still come back with change.

Then, late this summer, it was announced that the City of Sheridan, the crappy, should-have-been-annexed-ages-ago suburb that the Cinderella resides in, had decided to cancel their lease and rezone it. For high-end condos. In this market, where 1 out of every 7.5 homes in this country is vacant. And absolutely guaranteed to get worse. Insane. You should see the rest of this particular 'burb, godawful doesn't even begin to do it justice. Better they scrape the rest and leave just the drive-in. Any locals want to bear witness to my testimony on it?

Hearing this was the last chance to go, I packed up my sick wife in her two-piece jammies and a big comforter and headed to see the old girl out in style. We weren't alone, the place was packed. We got a triple feature of trashiness. "Underdog," "SuperBad" and "Balls of Fury." I was Mclovin "Superbad", but I was a teenage nerd boy once, so I could readily identify.

And so an era ends for Colorado and myself. Not the blaze of glory I would have liked, but a memorable end. My wife rallied for most of the outing, then happily snoozed away the end and the ride home. I personally would have preferred a triple feature of the Indy movies or some such, but I will always remember all the great times I had here.

So. . .goodbye Cinderella Twin, I will miss you. Thank you for all the great times you've given me, at a reasonable price.



And Sheridan, I know you are perhaps trying to modernize your ugly burb, but I hope you eat it hard with this deal. Perhaps it will bring down your glorified HOA regime.

SA

You're killing me with the cute animals. . .

If I wasn't snarkily musing from the shadows, you would be able to see my eyes roll whenever someone humanizes the cute animals. From my wife with the dog costumes (look for future rant) to meercats, otters and penguins. Especially on TV, where everything begins to look credible.

Just because you named a Koala "Bob" and raised him from a wee lad doesn't mean he won't fuck you up at the slightest provocation. Yes, otters have cute humanlike hands, but they won't be playing Xbox with you anytime soon.

Feeding Bambi with your teeth? Awww...and what could possibly go wrong?



I would find myself more in the "Crocodile Hunter" category. Animals are amazing and beautiful, even the really ugly ones. However they live in a different scale of reality than we do, and should be appreciated for what they are in the wild. They can't be judged from a human sense of morality for how they behave.

However, you already know I am rife with hidden vices, sensitivity and contradiction. The snarky always do, we're very complex that way. . .

All that being said, I was very sad when Flower died on "Meercat Manor" She was a good leader, and if danger threatens my family, I can only hope to go out fighting as bravely.

*Sniff* So long Flower...



*Sniff* Good thing it's dark in these shadows. . .

SA

We Are Among You

We slip in silently, blending into the crowd. Unnoticed by the gathered horde, we begin to imitate the mannerisms of the faithful around us, until we are virtually undetectable from the real thing, our social camouflage complete. With a little preparation we memorize enough to even pass cursory trivia examinations administered on the spot, as the die-hard core attempts to detect us. If we are caught, humiliation is certain, we will be cast into the harsh light. However, we cannot be stopped. We are among you.

I am among you.

You know us by many unflattering names, but my choice of titles is “Fair-weather fan.”

That’s right folks. I too am a fair weather fan. Sue me.

Those few that follow closely would know that as far as sports go, my time is limited, and I have narrowed my perennial favorite to one team: The Denver Broncos. We all have our guilty pleasures in this life, and they are mine. With 16 games a year, plus a few playoffs if we are lucky, I can find the time to follow. I am there through good times and bad, and “Never say die!” is my motto.

However, another local team has risen from the shambles of more than a decade of terrible seasons. As victory approached, I read the signs correctly, as the bandwagon lumbered by, I hopped on. I bought my tickets and slipped into a sold out-stadium, to stand witness to an amazing win, an emotional spectacle for all who had gathered.

Some may despise me for my Johnny-come-lately ways, but I don’t care. I was there at the moment of triumph, and I’ll be there for the playoffs. In this town, only a handful could have the gall to call me out as a fair-weather fan, every one here is. If they say they’ve been a hardcore fan for years, it is a near certainty that they are lying. . .this is a football town, through and through.

All that being said….

LET’S GO ROCKIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I'll report in from the playoffs, as a loyal true fan would do.

Unless of course, I scalp my tix! ;)

SA

P.S. I'm back baby! Thank you for the well wishes, I'm feeling better. During my malaise, I thunk up a batch of neato posts for my homies (I'm trying out my street vernacular) and I'm ready to bring it in October!

Call me Mr. Snarky October. Well, just call me.

No, really.