Sunday, February 28, 2010

Hipsters vs Olympics

While traveling for business last week, I overheard a young American girl make the following statement, “I decided I’m not cheering for the USA during the Olympics. I just feel like I wanna see other countries have a chance to win gold. It’s like the USA has had our turn, and now we are bullies.”


First of all, I don’t have to tell you she had hand tattoos. I won’t describe her knitted hat, cat-eye glasses or her blue and black plaid button up worn open over a black uni-tard. I shouldn’t have to describe her backpack. So I won’t.

Second, hers should be a shocking statement, yet I’d bet any of you reading this have heard similar comments. I’ll bet you’ve heard it more than once. At TBR, we want to help. We decided to issue this public service announcement. Please post it anywhere hipsters loiter.

Attention Hipsters:

Please yank your solo iPod bud from your ear, turn down the volume of the underground band we have never heard of, pull your crocheted whatever-those-things are off your head and untie your intentionally ironic camouflage bandana. This will only take a minute.

George W Bush did not invent the Olympics. Glenn Beck will not be competing in any of the events. The US Olympians did not create Global Warming, Private Health Care or Corporate America. Cheering for the US does not make anyone a fascist. Get over yourselves.

If patriotism is not something you are interested in, that is fine. You are free to continue talking about interesting thoughts, refusing to smile and acting nonchalant. Feel welcome to sulk around in your little outfits, dissing the man and wishing you were French. But leave the Olympics out of it.

In fact, you know what? Just leave sports alone, entirely. Quit trying to politic-up the sports world or we will be forced to continue our retaliation. We will keep sporting-up the politics world, sending our finest jocks to hold public office, no matter how unqualified they may be. You think Steve Largent and Jesse Ventura were too much? Wait until we send in the starters. Things will get real uncomfortable real quick for hipsters.

Thank you for your time. You may now go back to being put out by everything and loving the city at night time.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Heelys: Satan's Tool

I was walking through the mall the other day when a couple of welfare children scooted past me on these things. I know this may come across in a similar manner to an old man complaining about teenagers and that dad-blasted rock music, but I really, really hate Heelys.

I think the thing that drives me nuts about them is how cocky kids are when they are zipping around on them. When I'm at the mall with my wife and I'm already sick of being there, the last thing I need is some 9-year-old looking at me like he's figured out the secret of life because he has wheels in his shoes.

I don't typically advocate violence to children, but these little roller-rebels are lucky I don't have a buck knife when they roll by, because I may be tempted to cut their feet off and hit them with their own wheel-infused shoe. Not easy to be cocky when you have stubs for feet, huh kid?

Seriously, what is the point of these things? It's not like kids don't have enough energy to walk. If I saw an old lady with Type-2 diabetes wearing them, I would understand it. It gives her the dignity of mobility without the shame of a rascal scooter. I would even be understanding of kids wearing them in third world countries; I've seen families of 7 fit on a single motor scooter in Mexico, and it could make sense to free up a little more space by having a child hang on to a rope being dragged behind the scooter, like a little Heely water skier.

Instead, all I ever see is obese kids that smell like Shasta Soda Pop and potato chips cruising by me, looking at me like I'm the scum of the earth because I have to walk like some ordinary peasant.

The last person I saw pull off wearing shoes with artificial propulsion with some sembelence of dignity was Data, the Asian kid from Goonies.

So kids, here is my proposal: If you are searching for pirates' booty to keep your house from being turned into a golf course, then I will ignore your Heelys. But if you are wearing them for any other reason, I get to push you down into the gravel without being labeled a "bad person."


Friday, February 26, 2010

Show Me that Smile Again: Rest in Peace, Richard Stabone

Boner captured my childhood. While most men my age might look to Mike Seaver as the voice of our generation, I must confess I related more to Boner.

While Mike was the cool, handsome charismatic troublemaker who always got things right in the end, Boner was awkward and doofy looking with a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and messing things up with chicks.

Mike appealed to the side I wanted to be, but Boner reflected the side I was. He spoke the truth of my teenage angst.

Like Boner, I rarely had the right answer in the classroom. I too, was terrified of my friend’s parents. I mostly did what my buddies told me to, even when it meant extreme personal humiliation. During one hilarious mishap, Boner began to misguidedly refer to God as “Jimmy.” As an impressionable young teen, I understood his confusion.

Yet despite all that, despite living in the shadow of the original Zach Morris, despite being the constant butt of Mike Seaver’s jokes, despite falling hopelessly in love with his best friend’s little sister…Richard Stabone exuded a quiet confidence.

I mean, let’s face it. From the time he met Mike Seaver at the bus stop until well into his college years, little Dicky Stabone answered to the name Boner.

Boner. They called him Boner. He went by Boner. And that took balls.

The role that helped me grow into and out of my awkwardness probably haunted real life Boner the rest of his life, leading to his death. They claimed we were nowhere near the end. They lied, and now Boner is dead.

We’ll miss you, Mr. Stabone.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Tim Tebow: Master of Illusion

At this point in his career, Tim Tebow is like the abusive boyfriend who is trying to convince his ex-girlfriend to take him back. You know, that boyfriend who claims he’s changed things and everything is going to work out?

With the NFL Combine coming up, Tebow claims that he has spent the past two months completely changing his throwing motion. That his slower-than-Betty-White-in-a-Snickers-commercial delivery has been entirely reconfigured and he now has a lightning quick, flick-of-the-wrist delivery that will be more conducive to the NFL.

I hate to admit that I don’t believe the scripture-quoting, Heisman-winning, Christian missionary demigod, but…I don’t. Let me get this straight, Tim. You, the guy who has been playing football since the moment your mother decided not to abort you, are just now tweaking one of the most critical elements of quarterbacking? You have practiced long enough and hard enough for an entire lifetime to win a Heisman AND two national championships, but you want us to believe you’ve apparently just been neglecting basic mechanics.

Well, I’m glad that you are finally taking this opportunity to fix your throwing motion. Apparently, in these two months of post-season training, you are able to correct something that has been your weakness for the past 22 years.

Seriously, does anyone buy this? Are NFL GMs thinking, "You know, when we scouted him his delivery took so long that my dyslexic child was able to sound out War and Peace in its entirety before Tebow finished his wind-up, but now he says he's been working on it, so I guess we'll take him as our franchise quarterback."

Tim, if your agent refuses to give you advice to help your career, please take this counsel from a 27-year-old Idahoan who has the quarterbacking ability of a Norwegian figure skater: accept your niche.

Tebow could be an effective third-down back in the NFL, or a great facilitator of a Wildcat formation every few downs.

At this point, though, Tebow can’t change who he is as an ineffecient pocket passer any more than Slippery Pete can change his propensity for domestic abuse. And just like Slippery Pete would be better off finding a new girlfriend at the state fair's monster truck rally, Tebow would be better off ditching his old position of quarterback and parlaying his strengths elsewhere on the field.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

What the...?

As the Winter Olympics wind down we feel it is time to ask the question on everyone’s mind: What exactly is the luge?

From what we can gather, the sport that killed Olympic hopeful Nodar Kumaritashvili boils down to some guy on a tiny sled ripping down the ice at a hundred miles an hour.

But that can’t qualify as an Olympic event, right? So what exactly is it?

Even more baffling, how does one recognize young luge talent? Do parents simply look at each other one evening and say, “You know what young Billy is really good at? Hanging on for dear life. Maybe we should sign him up for luge lessons.”

At that point, parents might as well go down to their local police station and pre-mark the box “Luge Related Accident” on their son’s cause of death form. Finding out a guy died luging is like hearing about a celebrity overdose: sad, but not surprising.

And the Skeleton? Wow. There is no way to convince us the Skeleton started out as anything more than a hillbilly dare. Clearly, drunken rednecks snuck into the Olympic complex in 1988 and started talking trash about how easy the luge would be. As they all grabbed sleds and started down the hill, one of them wanted to show off for his friends and went head first. And the Skeleton was born.

In other news, the 2014 Olympics will feature a new sport: Crippler.

Crippler participants will cling to an over-inflated tractor tube hitched to a 1987 Chevy Silverado driven by unruly teens.

Mexico will be sending Winter Olympic athletes for the first time in history to compete in Crippler.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Shutter Island for Dummies

Walking into the theater this weekend, a couple stopped us and asked what we we’re going to see. When we told them Shutter Island, they told us – between cigarette puffs – to not see it. They had just watched it and thought it was “the stupidest movie they’d ever seen.”

We have tried to make it a rule to not take movie advice from slack-jawed yokels, or at least not from anyone wearing JNCO jeans, so we ignored their warning and went. After the movie, people around us in the theater were also grumbling about how disappointed they were, which led us to conclude the following: If you get the movie, you’ll love it. If you don’t, you’ll hate it.

Luckily, we got it.

In case you’re wondering if you should spend the $7.50 (Idaho) or $38.00 (California) to go to Shutter Island, here are two checklists to help you determine the likelihood of enjoyment.

The more questions you answer “Yes” to, the more you will love this movie:

• Have you ever read a book outside of the “Goosebumps” series?
• Can you do simple math without using your fingers?
• Can you read without moving your lips?
• Do you understand that Professional Wrestling is fake?
• Can you sit still for more than an hour without doing armpit farts?
• Do you understand that wearing a Kobe Bryant jersey to a funeral is
• Can you spot all 5 grammatical errors in this sentence:We was going over they’re to here the speaker talk about why it is supposably better to be a winner than a looser.
• If you had to choose, would you make your mortgage payment ahead of your truck payment?
• Do you think skinny jeans and oversized knit beanies are silly?

The more questions you answer “Yes” to, the more you will hate this movie:

• Do you love dragons?
• Do you consider Transformers one of the top-5 movies ever made?
• Are Jay and Silent Bob funny to you?
• Do you believe the following equation: Wife Beaters > No Shirt > T-Shirt…Even in December?
• Do you complain about the poor service at Denny’s when you go in for your free grand slam?
• Is M. Knight Shyamalan the greatest director of our time?
• Do you prefer Everybody Loves Raymond to Arrested
• Do you consider Copenhagen tobacco your favorite candy?
• Do you have a friend nicknamed Stinky Ricky?

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Tiger Woods Apology: Authentic and Touching.

Is it just us or do celebrities always get caught mere moments before realizing the error of their ways and seeking help? Tiger Woods held a press conference on Friday to discuss his extramarital affairs for the first time since he was caught.
Guess what? He’s really sorry for his actions. He is sorry to the people who look to him as an example and an icon. He is sorry to the PGA and his colleagues. He is sorry to his family. He is sorry to his wife’s family. He is just really, terribly sorry.


Why not speak the truth? Why doesn’t he just say what everyone already knows? It would be so much more sincere and refreshing if Tiger sauntered up to the podium and simply said, “Look. I’ve been a celebrity since I was in diapers. I’m a billionaire who plays golf all day. I’m the most iconic figure of my generation. I’m sort of black.”

“Beautiful women throw themselves at me all day every day and I could only resist so much. The fact is, I’ve had all sorts of crazy sex, stuff most of you don’t even know is invented yet. Put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn’t give in.”

“As for my career, of course I am going to keep playing golf. Let’s face it; golf needs me more than I need golf. I’m sorry to my family for getting caught and making this such a public spectacle. Thank you all for coming. ”

Honesty would have seemed more heartfelt. Instead he said all the things we knew he would say. Instead we had to hear about how he is a “sex addict” and is seeking help. Americans are quick to forgive our fallen celebrities, but we’re not stupid. You can’t just make up a condition and hope it flies as an apology.

Now, thanks to Tiger, we have a growing epidemic sweeping across the nation. According to a recent survey, 10 out of every 10 men in America admit to having a sex addiction.

We're Baa-aack

Years ago, we ran a website called Because the site grew in popularity from a handful to a couple dozen readers in a matter of months, the local newspaper snatched us from the interwebs and placed us on the company bankroll. The caveat was we had to destroy and burn all records of its existence. We let the money go to our heads, but can you blame us? The paper paid us literally hundreds of dollars a month. You don’t turn down that kind of green.

Until now.

Welcome to Two Brothers Rant. We’ve evolved. TBR won’t just be doing sports anymore. Instead we will provide a full tapestry of commentary on the general douche-baggery growing ever more prevalent in society.
To help get a feel for who we are, we have posted some of the stuff from the old website for your reading pleasure.