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"Fourth down and one. Chargers need to convert here to put themselves in field goal range." Sparkling graphics prance across the screen with stats on how many points the San Diego kickers scored this year and what among those was the longest and shortest in yardage and a dazzling matrix of numbers I suppose some people understand because that's what they love. I don't understand, but I don't need to. I'm comfortable in the numbness of ignorance and cold beer."If the Chargers make their goal here it'll put them --"

"Buh buh bah bah!" a woman's voice behind me scorches my ears and pinches my neck and shoulders.

I turn to Kip, "What did they say about this goal?"

"I'm not sure," Kip answers. "I didn't hear. There was someone cheering or booing or something behind us," he says in his diplomatic tone.

"Chargers make the goal that puts them at --"

"Bah! Buh buh! Bah!" the husky non-words drum against the atmosphere of the bar.

"Buh buh! Bah! Bah! Bah!" out spill more in a throaty tone pushed from the diaphragm and strong. The Sunshine Company can be noisy on game day, people cheering, clambering, clinking glasses, but this was something else. Something bigger and stranger than your average hooting was emanating with a guttural moan and a female timbre.

When the commercials cease and the swirling, glistening boxes appear on screen again, "Chargers with the kickoff. What they're going to want to do here --"

"Buh! Buh! Bah!"

I've had it. I spin around in my stool and hop to the floor scanning the crowd, my face visibly contorted with contempt and irritation. Three feet behind me at a low table is a woman waving her hands around at another woman. That woman then waves her hands around and through a slack mouth and with consternation in her brow she bellows, "Buh! Bah! Buh!"

Deaf. The women are deaf and signing to each other. They turn to me and register only shock on their faces. The one who makes the "Buh! Buh! Buh!" calls squints her eyes and holds her hands over her mouth in a silent terrible scream. Her eyes plead an apology. This must've happened before. Someone in her past must have harassed her for her loud moaning that she can't hear.

"I'm...sorry," I say. I touch her shoulder and pronounce my words as if I was in a foreign country and talking to someone who doesn't know English, loud, deliberate, and enunciated perfectly -- my mouth forming each word individually. "I'm...sorry. But...could...you...shut... the...hell...up? I'm...trying...to...watch...the...god...damned...game."


Thursday, November 24

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

NBC 9:00 a.m.

I love you, big giant turkey floating in the sky! I want to cook you and eat out a hole in your tummy and fly you to St. Louis. OH! And I want a pony, a new bicycle, and (shhhh...porno) for Thanksgiving. I love you!

Dr. Phil

CBS 6:00 p.m.

The World Series of Talking to Yourself happens in bus stops. Take a tour of the city's bus benches and overhangs and you'll see people investing their souls, hands, and voices in a one-way conversation. Outside of bus stops: nothing. I consider bus stops to be closed-circuit telephone booths. Stand there long enough and you'll hear a ring.

Friday, November 25

Metallica: Some Kind of Monster


7:00 p.m.

Here's why Metallica sucks. They've never written an original lyric in their career. At best, Hetfield has gone through the "Classic Literature" section of the Cliff's Notes rack and copied down the themes of important works. At worst he's seen a collection of bumper stickers, copied them down, and arranged them as a song. Don't Tread on Me , anyone? For Whom the Bell Tolls . And Justice for All . Fight Fire with Fire. You still disagree? Then you're a wastoid, greasy-faced teen who smokes pot behind auto shop and no one gives a warm crap what you think.

Saturday, November 26

Cheap and Loose 3.3

ETVC 4:30 p.m.

Next to my apartment is a market that flies a huge banner across the front stating, "Vodka 750ml $5.39." Woof! Upon passing, Kip remarked, "They must make it themselves in the back of the store out of mop squeezins and a rotten potato."

Home Alone

KSWB 8:00 p.m.

Saturday after Thanksgiving? Put the Christmas Schmaltz over the front burner and boil on high. After New Year's, simmer on low until next November.

Sunday, November 27


KNSD 7:00 p.m.

Shrek is a metaphor for the current administration. We've turned Great Britain, a beautiful princess, into an ogre just like us. There's a well-meaning but irritating donkey. I could go on.

Monday, November 28

WWE Monday Night Raw

USA 9:00 p.m.

Why would they name this spectacle of pseudo-violence "Raw?" When I think of the word "raw," I think of uncooked chicken. In other contexts I think of that special event when a man and a woman make "The Wookie in the Rain." Oh, I get it. It's a boy-love-boy thing.

Tuesday, November 29

A Different Kind of Christmas

LIFE 7:00 p.m.

If it's on Lifetime you can imagine that some poor woman is getting the snot slapped out of her until one day she snaps, grabs a 2x4 -- from the fence her lowlife husband didn't finish like he promised he would -- and she slams it broadside across his left ear. But, it's a Christmas movie, so I'm assuming Santa or Jesus is involved somehow. Well, hell, I may not be giving this the opportunity it deserves. This might be worth watching.

Wednesday, November 30

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

KFMB 8:00 p.m.

Ed, from La Mesa, writes in with his three wishes. "I want fame. I want the power of flight. And, I want to poop in pellet form so I don't have to wipe." Thanks, Ed.

Thursday, December 1

The Relic

Sci-Fi 7:00 p.m.

Some terrifying creature in a museum...(wait for it)...EATS PEOPLE'S BRAINS! Why is it always the brains? Why aren't there hideous goblins that eat people's toenail clippings? Although, that wouldn't pose any real threat to us. What about kneecaps? I'm fond of mine and wouldn't want to lose them. There you go. No more brain-eaters. I want to see a terrifying monster that eats kneecaps come out of Hollywood by next summer.

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