I was planning on running Crazylegs this weekend, but then I looked online and saw I’d be paying $40 to most likely finance Barry Alvarez’s bloated salary, so I said screw it. But before coming to that decision, I did some reading up on the event and found that Ron Dayne was the race’s Grand Marshal in 2008, which is the least surprising thing ever. I feel embarrassed for Dayne when he’s introduced at Camp Randall every year just because he has nothing better to do, or when he’s signing autographs at whatever shitty appliance store happens to have its grand opening that week. No appearance is too insignificant for Dayne to extract every last ounce out of his 15 minutes. His Heisman Trophy is displayed at a goddamn Buffalo Wild Wings for fuck’s sake! What, Chili’s wasn’t low-brow enough?
Movie from your childhood that kicks ass
“The Sandlot” (1993)—Even if just about everybody you know overuses the line “You’re killing me, Smalls!” to death, this film perfectly encapsulates the magic of summer. Because really there’s nothing more liberating when you’re a kid than having three months of no responsibilities whatsoever. There was one summer where I spent almost every day scaring myself to death watching marathons of “Unsolved Mysteries” while raiding the freezer and taking down about a half dozen frozen bean burritos. It’s sort of depressing that as you get older, summer is no longer about fun things like playing baseball or creating a makeshift slip ‘n slide. To realize you’re growing old is to care first and foremost about the current state of air conditioning.
First-World hate of the week
This week’s hate is reserved for door-to-door solicitors. Another reason why summer kind of sucks as you age is because these people start coming out of the woodwork in droves to bug the shit out of you. I know because I was once one of these solicitors in what was an ill-fated employment decision I made the summer following my freshman year of college. I was tasked with offering free window and siding estimates to homeowners in the Greater Milwaukee area, which sounds like a noble gesture but was really an excuse for our sales team to get into your house and hard-sell you on our crappy products. Much to my chagrin, the people that answered the door for me were never the lonely housewives that pop culture conditions you to believe. Instead, I usually spoke to senile old ladies who couldn’t comprehend what I was offering or just really freaking weird people. I had an old guy in Whitefish Bay answer the door wearing only his underwear one time. After I gave him my pitch, he actually expressed interest in an estimate on his windows and invited me inside his house to check out his window situation, but I decided against it. Honestly, that’s what I deserved for knocking on people’s doors trying to sucker money out of them.
Song that never fails to fire me up
“Levon” (Elton John, 1971)—There are a lot of things that make Elton John great, most of which involve him tickling the ivories better than just about anyone for the last 40-plus years. But I’ll always remember him for his puzzling selection as the headlining act for Harley-Davidson’s 100th anniversary celebration in Milwaukee in 2003. This was a huge deal for the city—there were weeklong festivities celebrating the anniversary, with thousands of bikers from all over the country converging on the area. Harley-Davidson kept it under wraps all week which act was going to play on the final day, and naturally, people’s expectations were high. Most speculated the choice would be a band like the Stones, Aerosmith or ZZ Top – you know, the sort of acts that would resonate with these grizzled “Sons of Anarchy” lookalikes. Instead, that crowd was treated to stirring renditions of “Crocodile Rock” and “Tiny Dancer,” which went over about as well as a fire in a nursing home. Those bikers were so pissed.
Unedited moronic Facebook status from a kid from my highschool
“well shoot watchn buckwild all mornin made me realize shit now why n the hell didnt we make a redneck reality tv show years ago”
I don’t think MTV needs further help in solidifying the blithering dumbass demographic.
Ever gone door-to-door pushing product? Share your struggles with Adam by emailing him at awolf3@wisc.edu.
