I see the story today about Kanye West and it disgusts me. What ever hapened to modesty? I remember as a kid watching Steve Largent (Seattle Seahawks receiver, Hall of Fame member) getting touchdown after touchdown, and what would he do? Either set the ball down or walk over and hand it to a ref. Asked why no “celebrations”?…(these are my words, but close enough) “because It (the catch) didn’t win a Super Bowl, and It looks like I’ve been there before” (in other words it was no big deal)…now THAT is cool, classy. This crap of looking around for cameras and pulling a sharpie out of your sock to sign a football on national tv isn’t just UNcool, it’s sickening. If you’re good, people will appreciate it, but this ME ME ME stuff..look at ME. I’m sick of it. It’s a darn shame… Ok, I feel better now..hehe…

You know, Mark Harmon, I really used to like you. You always seemed to be the affable, laid back guy. Your first big impression on me was one of my favorite classic summer 80s film, Tuff Turf. Er, no wait a minute, my bad, wrong movie. No, your first big role to me was Summer School. What a great movie, and those of you old enough to remember it probably to this day wonder whatever happened to the lovable Chainsaw. Or the kid who never showed up to class. That was a great movie, and I am sure Mark counted himself lucky to be acting with a young Courtney Thorne-Smith and a pre elephantine Kirstie Alley. Even Saw cutie Shawnee Smith was in this flick. Day-um, stupid girls sure were hot back in the day

He would continue through more TV and movie roles. He married –and apparently is still married to-Mindy from Mork & Mindy. He was voted People’s Sexiest Man Alive in n1986, the year People also suspiciously disqualified me, for some bullshit reason of ‘not being even remotely famous’. Fuckers. Anyway, Harmon all but disappeared from my consciousness, to be replaced by such happy things as orange creamsicles and Tetris.

Recently, Mark Harmon has reappeared in my life in a big and negative way. In fact, I now hate you, Mark Harmon. I see entirely too much of you. Apparently, he’s been on this show called NCIS, which I believe stands for ‘now can I speak’. And this show, unbeknownst to me, has been on the air for quite a few years. I didn’t know this until the show started rerunning on USA. I know all of this because my wife is addicted to this goddamn show.

At first it was just on USA and whatever other channel it first airs on. Life was good, life was tolerable. But that has all changed over the last year. Now, NCIS is omnipresent in my house. We have 3 TVs in the house. At any given time, all of them are on channel 13 (aka USA, aka NCIS central). This pisses me off more than when they all used to be on the Food Channel. It’s not like she ever made me any of that stuff…

Since then, I have clearly been put in my place. I know between the hours of 5-7, I am second fiddle. I am third wheel. The house can be on fire, and upon telling her this fact, I will get scolded, “WAIT FOR A COMMERCIAL!” If this was only contained to scheduled intervals, I am laid back and accommodating enough to work around it. Hell, I’ll even give her the big TV-you know, the B&W one-to watch all the nefarious goings ons going on. But it has grown worse. It appears NCIS spreads quicker than the swine flu.

Now it seems NCIS is on 4 channels that I am aware of. Which I believe still pales in comparison to how many fucking channels show Scrubs. That was her previous crack TV. I think I’ve counted Scrubs on no less than 6 fucking channels. It’s now gotten to the point that I can watch Scrubs rather than NCIS. But Elliot is still fucking annoying.

Also, USA appears to be so devoid of alternate programming, test patterns and infomercials that it now runs NCIS marathons. So imagine my shock as all day yesterday-a Wednesday-USA went all NCIS. Surely somewhere, there must be unaired Billy Mays commercials. Fuck me. I’ve arrived at the point where I am familiar with the characters and certain storylines. Me. But she can sit there and watch the whole damn thing all over again. Yesterday, I hit a new low. “We” were watching the show, and about 15 minutes in, I realized I fucking saw this show before. Yet, her gaze was the gaze of a traveler spotting water after a week in the desert. Ambrosia to the angels and such shit.

I don’t like the show, for a few reasons. Chief amongst them is she likes it so goddamn much. But there’s more to it than just that. (And I am ashamed I can go into this much detail of a show I don’t even watch.) First of all, Mark Harmon’s character is named Jethro. Right, Jethro. That’s his first name, too, not his last. It’s hard to buy an action hero as a ‘Jethro’. A Clampett? Sure, but not a federal agent. Unless he was the federal agent of moonshine. So Gibbs (Jethro’s last name, the name most people use to call him.) is one of those smarmy types that is always fucking right. What’s that? All the evidence points to the husband as the killer? No, because Gibbs is Gibbs, he has some sort of ESP that actually tells him the real killer is the neighbors’ gardeners’ cousins’ eighth grade teacher! Alas, how could we not have seen this? We all must bow to the knowingness of brother Gibbs. Gibbs always knows where the bad guy is hiding.

Gibbs is a maverick. Gibbs will only use your last name, even if it’s Gibbsisapedophile. OK, that was a funny episode. Gibbs thumbs his nose at his superiors, he disobeys orders, he ‘goes dark’. I believe he even has a pristine copy of that Erin Andrews video. Gibbs can anticipate the bad guys’ next move. Gibbs is a deadeye. Gibbs. Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs. Enough fucking already!

Sure, he is surrounded by less smart characters as well. There’s the suave guy, the nerd guy, the chick, the goth forensic chick, the weathered coroner. Every week, it’s a new struggle against evil. And my sanity. I don’t like the slickness of Gibbs. It gets quite tiresome to see the same general scenario week in and week out. Right, I can see all of you rolling your eyes-you know your webcam is on, right?-thinking, “Well what about your hero, Jack Bauer?”Jack Bauer is far more hardcore than fucking Gibbs. Take away seasons 5 & 6 (please) of 24, and 24 is the far better show.

But, boom there is NCIS on just about every damn channel we have. Look, we’re poor, we just have basic cable. And at the rate they’re taking away my channels, we’ll be lucky to have 20 left. And Mark Harmon will be on at least 5 of those. Maybe my wife snuck in some sort of NCIS channel unbeknownst to me. All I know is I have 20 channels-16 if you take away the Spanish speaking ones-and I am pretty sure I’ve seen NCIS on 4 of them. And one of the Spanish ones. Eh, Senor Gibbs?

I can see by the hour upon us, that soon, the NCIS channel will be on, and any actual conversation must take place between the commercials. Even if it’s a rerun. Even if it’s a rerun I’ve seen, I’d best not spoil the ending. Sure, you can argue the same thing with me and The Simpsons. Yes, true, I’ve seen the majority of the shows, but not all of them. And since it’s only a half hour long, I get 2 episodes for the price of one measly NCIS. Plus, with all my drinking, my memory is spotty, so sometime it really is like watching a brand new episode. And it’s all about escapism for me; it makes me laugh, and my troubles vanish for a brief, fleeting amount of time. Besides, if Gibbs ever got bonked on the head with a transmission, I would laugh my ass off.

I hate flies. I especially hate it when they buzz my ears. Flies ruin picnics and the diseases they carry can cause innocent people to become desperately ill.

There’s a scene in Sam Raimi’s new movie, “Drag Me To Hell,” where a beautiful young heroine is sleeping in her bed while a filthy black fly creeps all the way up inside of her nostril. It’s an unsettling scene.

What happened to one of my neighbors is even more unsettling and it was real life. Not some creepy movie. Tiny, odious villains attacked my neighbor by invading her vagina. The relentless onslaught in her most private area continued round the clock until she felt so sick she had to go to a hospital. When doctors told her that she had ovarian cancer, her life became a tortuous nightmare. I can’t think of anything more terrifying (except a doctor telling me I have prostate cancer and they want to cut my balls off).

My neighbor didn’t know what to do. Her doctors recommended chemo therapy which kills good cells as well as cancerous cells. She heard from friends that there are some good, alternative treatments available, but she also heard about scam slime (those despicable, dishonest people who prey on sick people like vultures). My neighbor chose chemo therapy and went through so much pain and nausea, she told me, “If I knew how bad chemo was going to be, I would rather have just died.”

The expensive chemo treatments kept her alive for two more years (if you believe mostly lying in bed with pain, feeling weak and sick is “being alive”). Then, sadly, she passed away.

If you never listened to anyone describe the horror of their cancer sufferings, just watch the documentary by Farah Fawcett and you will understand. You will also want to avoid the anguish of going through anything like that, if at all possible.

It’s too bad people get cancer in the first place. If they knew more about what causes cancer and what helps prevent cancer, they might be able to avoid such tragedies.

Apparently, it helps to stay away from eating refined sugar, simple carbohydrates and hydrogenated oil. The stuff cancer thrives on. If you must eat foods such as donuts, eat them in moderation. I would never travel all the way to New Orleans without enjoying deep fried beignets at Cafe Du Monde. However, I wouldn’t eat beignets everyday unless I wanted to feed a death wish.

Besides avoiding dangerous, deep fried sugar monsters, you can fortify yourself with super-foods which will heroically go to war against carcinogens which may attack your breasts, uterus, colon or prostate. Some of the greatest superheroes are garlic, carrots, cabbage and walnuts.

I don’t want terrorist cells lurking around inside of my country and I don’t want cancer cells lurking around inside of my body. After the 911 attacks, we spent millions of dollars fortifying our borders and airports from radical extremists who are hellbent on killing Americans. There is no guarantee that these efforts will keep all agents of terror outside of this country, but I like increasing the odds for survival. For similar reasons, I decided to fortify my body with super-foods to increase the odds of keeping cancer causing agents outside of my body.

The only problem is - Carrots and cabbage aren’t as yummy as donuts.

Since I enjoy eating great tasting food as well as traveling, I decided to explore the world looking for a delicious super-food recipe (something I could look forward to eating instead of just choking down like cod liver oil). First, I went to Europe hoping to find the perfect French or Italian recipe. I ran across some great recipes but nothing featuring super-foods. Thanks to the internet, my travels only took a few hours so I pressed on to India. Then I searched Asia. I continued exploring all the way around the world to Costa Rica, and down to South America, where finally, I made a great discovery. (Eat your heart out, Columbus.)

I discovered “Chilean Carrot Salad,” a common side-dish popular around Santiago, Chile. This nutritious and affordable, cancer fighting super-salad consists of grated carrots, chopped garlic, cilantro, lemon juice and canola oil.

In the spirit of Emeril Lagasse, I kicked this simple carrot salad up a notch by adding raisins, walnuts, cabbage and ginger. BAM - I ended up with a delicious salad that I regularly enjoy eating which also protects me from getting cancer. As a bonus, eating this salad for lunch instead of eating dangerous diner foods like French fries and Monte Cristo sandwiches has made it easy to lose more than a few pounds and save money.

MOUNTAIN DUDE’S KICKED UP CANCER FIGHTING CARROT SALAD:

2 cups grated carrots (about 4 medium sized carrots), 1/2 cup shredded cabbage (red cabbage is best), 3 tabl. walnut pieces, 3 tabl. raisins, 2 tabl. cilantro (finely chopped), 2 tsp. garlic (finely chopped), 2 tsp. fresh ginger (finely chopped), 2 tabl. fresh squeezed lemon juice, 1 tabl. canola oil or olive oil. Mix ingredients together in a large bowl. Makes 4 servings.

You can see more photos by Mountain Dude at www.dporterdvd.com

One of the nations biggest bra makers stated that three years ago, the most common size in the country was 36C. In 2008, it was 36D and will increase to 36DD in 2009. Wacoal won’t even venture a guess as to when or where the increases will end.

The Center for Disease Control and Prevention (yes, the government had to get in on it) blames the increase in breast size to obesity but does conceed that it also might be due to women being fitted with the correct size. Women, especially teenagers, selected a bra one size too small, to show off what they have. Being fitted for a bra instead of just selecting one off the rack took off after Oprah (The Queen of talk) devoted an entire show to buying the correct size.

Breast augmentation has kept up with inflation (no pun intended) as more women, for unknown reasons, seek to improve on what they have. Not only in the United States but in other countries as well. A Texas woman, who shall remain anonymous, had to travel to South America to finally get what she wanted, two pounds of silicon in each breast, giving her a 48KKK bra size (custom made no less. Back brace not included). It appears that Texas has a law regulating just how much a woman can improve herself and she had reached the limit.I also heard that Pamela Anderson wanted to donate her implants to the Smithsonian Museum but was turned down. Will they show up on Ebay?

I don’t consider myself a prude, I’m past 60 years old and spent 10 years in the Navy traveling southeast Asia, so I think I’ve seen it all. I went through the Flower Power and Free Love society of the 60s and 70s and saw just what a young woman would go through, or so I thought. Men burned their draft cards, women burned their bras. Watching women take off their bras in downtown Long Beach, California and tossing them into a pile was a sailors delight. There were more teats hanging out than at a dairy farm.

Any scientist can tell you that breasts are only meant for one thing, breast feeding the young. Try tell any raging harmone teenager that and see what answer you get. Breasts come in all sizes; big, small, well rounded, pointed, soft, firm but as someone once told me, “Anything more than a mouthfull shouldn’t be wasted.” Also, one size does not fit all and that’s where bra fitting comes in, a job any man would kill for. Victoria’s Secret probably has the lock of sexy bras, the ones that are there but can’t be seen, barely more than two band aids, and tease the male to no end.

Personally, I like something left to the imagination, something like unwrapping a Christmas gift on Christmas day.

It amazes me how oblivious people can be to the world around them.  Now, there are times when we all momentarily “check out”, only to end up in our own little world for a milli-second.  I’m not talking about that.  However, I AM referring to those self-absorbed, bubble-dwellers who are only concerned with what’s going on inside the bubbles in which they dwell.  Examples…you ask?   Oh…where do I begin?  Let’s see if you recognize any of these famous “wearers of blinders to the world”.

Mr. “What address is that?”:  He casually strolls through suburban neighborhoods (and busy streets) at a dainty 4-6 mph looking for an address that he has neither written down or memorized hoping that when he sees it, it’ll miraculously come back to him.  In the meantime though, he’ll trap you in a tailgating vortex unable to pass due to oncoming traffic without even the slightest concern that you may have someplace to be - a place for which you do know the address.

Ms. “Elevator Bulldozer”: She waits for the elevator to arrive like it’s the last flight out of town and she’s gotta be on it come hell or highwater.  Suddenly it arrives!  She rushes through the barely open doors as if she’s being chased.  Nevermind the lady trying to exit with a babystroller that had to subject her crying child to a mesmerizing view of the stainless steel wall…or the little old lady for whom exiting an elevator feels like shes climbing off of one of the most jarring and unsettling experiences of movement she’s felt since the car ride over.  None of this matters to Ms. “EB” because you’re in her elevator car…the one that she sent for (seems like minutes and should have been seconds ago) to pick her up.

Conversational Road Blockers: These two have chosen to forego visiting one of the 5 million Starbucks to hold a conversation, because the middle of the road suits them just fine, thank you.  While the pressing issues of the world are being discussed in this stalled motorcade of dialogue, you are held hostage and thoroughly resented if you have the audacity to honk your horn.  After all, you do run the risk of being rude by interrupting their train of thought…no not the one that shocks them back to the realization that we’re just seconds away from backing up to get a running start in order to help them move their little chit chat along.

Mr. “Quick Question”: He’s on a quest for information and nothing is gonna stand in his way - not even an existing situation or an ongoing conversation.  By some scientific act of osmosis, standing in line for 5 hours has made you invisible to “Sir-Double Q” and he zips right past you and every other invisible patron just to ask…”one quick question”.  Invariably this ten cent question usually requires a fort knox answer that sustains your powers of invisiblity for another 15 minutes.  Meanwhile, the quick question gives birth to additional quick questions, because the great inquisitor doesn’t see anyone else waiting…and how could he?  We’re invisible.

Mr. “Loud & Proud”: You may have seen him, but you’ve definitely heard him.  He’s the one who wants everyone in the building to know every thought that’s found its way from his walnut-sized brain out of that gaping bullhorn of a mouth and into the atmosphere for all to marvel at in awe and wonder.  For this guy, “volume control” is best saved for 80s hairstyles.  Whether on the cell phone or not letting his helpless victim get a word in edgewise, he provides a verbal sandblast about his cheating b%#h of a girlfriend, his damn job, his new car, his kickass motorcycle…choose your topic!  Better yet, why not take them all in at once, because that’s how they’re spraying you in the face and in the back of the head, while you’re desperately trying to gather your own thoughts long enough to locate the exit…or a baseball bat.

Ms. “Stop n Chat”: When not sitting in a car in the middle of the road, this one is busy log-jamming the rest of the world on foot.  She has many a stop on her motor mouth world tour for a bevy of stunned onlookers.  First stop-The end of the escalator ride.  Yes, she’s done with the ride and has decided to grow accustomed to not having to move her legs, and with good reason - she’s talking to someone.  Nevermind the flip flops and bloody toes being chewed up by the massive, rotating,  metal stairs behind her.  Next stop-The end of the airplane corridor.  It’s a big welcome home as her loved ones embrace her and attempt to gracfully pull her aside so that others behind her may share the same experience with their loved ones.  Not so fast, because when the mouth moves, the legs stop and there’s so much to tell about the flight over and how the flight attendant wouldn’t provide extra nuts and how the guy next to her kept rudely falling asleep everytime she tried to talk to him.  Next stop-The grocery line. Take your time with that price check, because she’s kindly taken that time to inform you of the evening’s menu and how she can never find fresh strawberries this time of season and how when she was a child her grandmother used to make fresh strawberry pie, not like those canned strawberries on isle 3 but more like the strawberries they used to sell at the festival, where you could also get free samples while they lasted…apparently not as long as my “quick trip” to the market to pick up milk.  Final stop-In her parking space.  You thought she was leaving, but you were in for a rude awakening when she popped in a “bluetooth” while looking for her car keys.  Finally, the car starts…those precious, white lights illuminate telling you that the space will soon be yours…and…and…and she’s sitting there in reverse with her foot on the brake…still talking!!!  About what, you ask?  Simply a heads up to let the person on the other end know that she’s on her way home and will finish the conversation in front of the house, in her car, in the middle of the frickin’ street!

Welcome to my world.

Benman out!

I think the top 10 American Idols for this year is the most talented group ever. In past years at this stage, there was always one or two performers I could barely stand to listen to while waiting for my favorites’ turn.

When Alexis Grace was sent home, I was surprised and disappointed.  I thought she was certainly better than Michael Sarver and I would prefer to see her perform live.  Nevertheless, I still might buy tickets to see the 10 idols on tour this year.

So far, my favorites are Danny Gokey and Allison Iraheta. Who are you rooting for?

The fireworks of explosive comments from Ann Coulter, Meghan McCain and Laura Ingraham aimed at fellow republicans demonstrate the inevitability of all out war between progressive and conservative factions for controll of the republican party.

Conservative Ann Coultre devastated the McCain faction when she said, “I would rather vote for Hillary Clinton than John McCain.”  Meghan McCain, (who supports stem cell research,  gay marriage and describes herself as a progressive republican), campaigned for her father and blasted  Coulter saying, “I find her offensive, radical, insulting and confusing all at the same time. She also said, Coultre represents bad stereotypes of republican women.

Conservative talk radio pundit Laura Ingraham insulted Meghan McCain with derogatory shots aimed at McCains body weight in describing McCain as a “plus size.” McCain fired back saying Laura Ingraham can “Kiss my fat ass.” McCain who claims to presently be a size 8 also said, “I am not overweight in the least - But even if I were overweight, I expected substantive criticism from conservative pundits for my views. That is the nature of political discourse, and my intent was to generate discussions about the current problems facing the republican party.

McCain says she is trying to be a good role model for a new generation of republican women and describes Coultre as being a bad role model for republican woman.

What say you?

                Tyler. Connor. Logan. Dylan. McKenzie. Jarrett.  Jackson. These were last names of families in my neighborhood growing up. These days, you’re just as likely to find a last name of Connor as you are a first name of Connor. In fact, I am willing to bet most day cares are littered with Taylors and Jordans. I hate this trend. When did it get in vogue to take common last names and make them first names? I blame the motarded parents.

                I am sure the discussion started something like this. “Uh, yea, honey, this is the third test, and it’s saying positive.” “That is awesome, sweetie. What are we going to name it? Whatever, I am sure our kid will be the most precious, important kid in all the land.” “Yes, dear, I sure do agree. We must name him/her something unique. Surely, when he/she cures the common cold/restores peace to the Middle East/shits gold, they must have a superior name.” “Pookums, we can name it after my recently departed Uncle Joe. Or perhaps your mother Sara.” “Get a clue, dunderhead. Our offspring surely can’t sport a common name. No, the name must be regal. It must be a name that not a lot of kids these days have.” “David? Rebecca? Pat? Amy? Kevin? They are all swell names.” Slapping her forehead, she says, “Shit, I knew you should have used a condom. Look, I think there’s a great name right next door to us. I think their last name would make a fine first name for our progeny.” “You want to name our kid Tomaszewski?” “No, moron, I think we should name it Cooper.”

                Yes, this trend of using formerly last names as first names is the result of parents trying to sound original. Because snowflake will be so special. Get over it. Don’t hex your kid. And it’s certainly not just ‘normal’ parents. No, celebutards are to blame as well. It just might be worse there. Surely, the offspring of such MENSA members as Gwyneth Paltrow & Chris Martin, Bono & Edge of U2, actrors Shannyn Sossamon and Jason Lee will surely erase cancer and acne off the face of the earth. They must be granted ‘special’ names. It is well known that Paltrow and Martin named their first demonseed Apple. Apple? Seriously, WTF? Even Steve Jobs isn’t that self absorbed. Why in the blue hell would you curse your kid by naming them “Apple”?I can just imagine, when poor, poor Apple is getting beat up by the other girls at the haughty boarding school (while her parents are on holiday on the coast). Bam! “And this is for that other shitty movie your mom made!” Bam, fist meets shoulder in effort to give a dead arm. “And this is for your dad being in Radiohead! Everyone hates that band!” Apple will sob back, “But…but my dad is in Coldplay!” “Really,” her agitator will pause to roll up her sleeves more, “well you shouldn’t have told me that.”

                It must be some rule to be in U2 that you have to name your kids wacky names. Keep in mind, the 2 individuals with horribly gaudy, made up names damned their kids by really naming them Memphis Eve and Blue Angel. Wow, talk about pretentious. Sossamon named her kid Audio Science. Lee named his son Pilot Inspektor. I guess that might be from Russian descent with the ‘k’ and all. Perhaps Burger Flipper doesn’t quite carry the same cache.

                I also find it comical that when a birth comes along, the parents get all ancestral. After largely ignoring much of their heritage, now that a shortie comes along, they feel the obligation to find some long lost, bizarre name. To pay homage to the heritage they never really bothered with. Aiden is a hot name right now. What do you call Aiden for short? Aids? Seriously, let’s think this out here. I know someone who named their first born Maeve. Maeve. WTF kind of name is that? It was explained to me that it is an old Irish name. Keep in mind the parents are both Italian. And I still don’t know if Maeve is a boy or a girl. Good luck finding that on a license plate at Disney World. It used to be all the bizarre names belonged to hockey players. Now, all the major sports are littered with names I’ve never heard of.

                Other hot names just seem kinda made up to me. Caden? Jayden is one of those names that’s a combination of 2 names. Similar to Jaron and Jared.  It’s funny how parents can be oblivious. Hot girl names from 2008 include Hailey, Chloe, Madison, Peyton and Morgan. Right, all stripper names. Just sayin’.

                Lastly, why, o why do parents give their kids a repetitive name? I think we all know a Bill Williams or Tom Thomas. All I’m saying is THINK. If you feel the need to try and look all cutesy, then consider what I did. I got a dog. You can name dogs all kinds of cool things like Bruiser or Diesel. If you have to get all trendy, then scar a dog, cat or gecko with a bizarre name. Just not your kids.