PIKER'S PICKS: NFL WEEK 8

Week 7 Results: 5-9
Season-to-Date: 41-45-2

I got punked last week -- by the refs in the Dolphins-Steelers game and by the rest of the league.  Horrible week for Piker's Picks.  Looking for a big bounce back and another Dolphin win on the road.


Denver
@San Francisco       -1.5

Jacksonville
@Dallas                   -6.5

Washington
@Detroit                  -2.5

Green Bay
@NY Jets                -6

Carolina
@St. Louis              -3

Miami
@Cincinnati            -1.5

Buffalo
@Kansas City         -7

Tennessee
@San Diego           -3.5

Tampa Bay
@Arizona               -3

Seattle
@Oakland              -2.5

Minnesota
@New England      -5.5

Pittsburgh
@New Orleans       -1

Houston
@Indianapolis        -5.5

PIKER'S PICKS: NFL WEEK 7

Week 6 Results: 6-6-2
Season: 36-36-2

Stuck at .500.  Even though picking against the Dolphins worked last week, helping them get a victory on the road at Green Bay, I'm back to picking them this week. Hope it doesn't hurt them against the mighty Steelers.  And I hope it doesn't hurt my sheet this week.

Pittsburgh            -3
@Miami

Cincinnati
@Atlanta            -3.5

Jacksonville
@Kansas City    -9

Philadelphia
@Tennessee       -3

Washington
@Chicago          -3

Cleveland
@New Orleans   -13

Buffalo
@Baltimore         -13

San Francisco      -3
@Carolina

St. Louis
@Tampa Bay      -2.5

Arizona
@Seattle              -7

New England
@San Diego        -2.5

Oakland
@Denver             -7.5

Minnesota
@Green Bay        -2.5

NY Giants
@Dallas               -3

PIKER'S PICKS: NFL WEEK 6

Week 5 Results: 8-6
Season: 30-30

The Dolphins were off last week, so I managed to eke out a positive sheet and get back to .500 for the season.  They're on the road at Green Bay this week, and I've lost almost all of my faith in the team, so I'm going with the Packers.  Perhaps refraining from an emotional pick will propel me to a monster week.

Piker's Picks in Blue

San Diego            -9
@St. Louis

Kansas City
@Houston           -4

Baltimore
@New England   -2.5

New Orleans        -4
@Tampa Bay

Atlanta
@Philadelphia      -1.5

Detroit
@NY Giants        -10

Seattle
@Chicago            -6

Miami
@Green Bay        -3

Cleveland
@Pittsburgh         -14

NY Jets                -3.5
@Denver

Oakland
@San Francisco   -7

Dallas
@Minnesota         -1.5

Indianapolis          -3
@Washington

Tennessee             -3
@Jacksonville

PIKER'S PICKS: NFL WEEK 5

Week 4 Results: 6-8

I would've hit the .500 mark each of the last two weeks if I didn't pick the Dolphins. This week, the Flailing Fish have a much-needed bye, so the sky's the limit...

Piker's Picks in Blue

Denver
@Baltimore         -7

Jacksonville
@Buffalo             -1.5

Kansas City
@Indianapolis     -7

St. Louis
@Detroit              -3

Atlanta                -3
@Cleveland

Tampa Bay
@Cincinnati       -6.5

Chicago
@Carolina          -3

Green Bay          -2.5
@Washington

NY Giants
@Houston           -3

New Orleans      -6.5
@Arizona

San Diego           -6.5
@Oakland

Tennessee
@Dallas                -7


Sunday Night

Philadelphia
@San Francisco  -3


Monday Night

Minnesota
@NY Jets             -4 

PIKER'S PICKS: MLB PLAYOFFS

October is here, which means autumn, Halloween, and the World Series. Personally, I fell in love with baseball all over again this year.  It was the Year of the Pitcher, with no-hitters and perfect games and almost perfect games.  I began watching "Baseball Tonight" religiously, and besides the home runs and highlights, I couldn't wait to see the incredible defense on display in each installment of Web Gems.  My brother and I rediscovered our love of baseball cards and started collecting for the first time in 20 years.  Stephen Strasburg electrified the baseball card market and the league for a little while.  Despite Strasburg's devastating injury, which I believe he will come back from, an influx of dyamic rookies -- including Jason Heyward, Buster Posey, and Aroldis Chapman -- ushered in an exciting new era of baseball.  With baseball's tainted recent history, we can only hope and pray that this new generation is performance-enhancer free and natural talent will rule the day.

Though I didn't get to see any games this season outside Southern California, I took advantage of my close proximity to Dodger Stadium by seeing the Yankees twice, the Padres, the Rockies, the Brewers, and the Giants when they came to town. But the crown jewel of my baseball season was the All-Star Game.  I've always wanted to go to the All-Star Game, but never had the chance.  Never in a million years would I dream I would get to go as a friend of Major League Baseball.  My brother and I were treated to a VIP ticket package which included entry to a luxury suite for the Futures Game, a table in the Diamond Club  for the Home Run Derby, and fantastic seats for the All-Star Game itself.  We stayed in the same hotel as the players, hung out with baseball executives and former players, got a few Strasburg cards at Fanfest, and attended many of the surrounding events and celebrations. We were inside baseball, and it felt amazing.  My brother talked to Joe Girardi while waiting in line at the hotel lobby Starbucks.  I posed for a few pictures and sat down for a chat with Andre Agassi in the stands just before the start of the All-Star Game.  Tremendous thanks to my awesome friend who gave my brother and I the phenomenal gift of the All-Star experience.

I'm a Yankee fan through and through.  Have been since I was 5-years-old and wore a Yankee hat in my kindergarten picture.  Though I want to see a Yankees-Reds World Series, a couple of factors will keep that from happening, namely the Yankees pitching and the Phillies.


AMERICAN LEAGUE DIVISION  SERIES

New York Yankees vs. Minnesota Twins

Piker Picks: The Yankees

Texas Rangers vs. Tampa Bay Rays 

Piker Picks: The Rays


NATIONAL LEAGUE DIVISION SERIES

Cincinnati Reds vs Philadelphia Phillies

Piker Picks: The Phillies

Atlanta Braves vs. San Francisco Giants

Piker Picks: The Giants


AMERICAN LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP SERIES

Piker Picks: The Rays

NATIONAL LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP SERIES

Piker Picks: The Phillies


WORLD SERIES

Piker Picks: The Phillies

PIKER'S PICKS: WEEK 4

Week 1:  Piker sat out to get the lay of the land.
Week 2:  9-7
Week 3:  7-9
Week 4:  Going for double digit wins.

Piker's Picks in Blue


Denver
@Tennessee         -6.5


Baltimore
@Pittsburgh          -2.5


Cincinnati             -2.5
@Cleveland


Detroit
@Green Bay        -14.5


Carolina
@New Orleans    -13


San Francisco
@Atlanta               -7


Seattle                  -2
@St. Louis


NY Jets                -6
@Buffalo


Indianapolis        -7
@Jacksonville


Houston              -3.5
@Oakland


Arizona
@San Diego       -9.5


Washington
@Philadelphia   -5


Chicago
@NY Giants       -3.5


New England     -1
@Miami

PIKER'S PICKS: WEEK 3

Piker's Picks in Yellow

Tennessee
@NY Giants       -3.5

Buffalo
@New England  -14.5

Cleveland
@Baltimore        -10.5

Pittsburgh           -2.5
@Tampa Bay

Cincinnati           -3.5
@Carolina

Atlanta
@New Orleans    -3.5

San Francisco        -2.5
@Kansas City

Detroit
@Minnesota         -12.5

Dallas
@Houston            -2.5

Washington          -3.5
@St. Louis

Philadelphia          -3
@Jacksonville

Indianapolis          -5.5
@Denver

San Diego            -4.5
@Seattle

Oakland
@Arizona            -4.5


Sunday Night Game

NY Jets
@Miami              -2.5


Monday Night Game

Green Bay          -3
@Chicago
  

 

PIKER'S PICKS - NFL WEEK 2 - RESULTS

Barry: 9-7
Ira: 7-9
Scott: 6-10

PIKER'S PICKS - NFL WEEK 2

Philadelphia     -6.5

@Detroit

Barry: Detroit 

Ira: Philadelphia

Scott: Philadelphia

Chicago

@Dallas            -7

Barry: Dallas

Ira: Chicago

Scott: Dallas

Tampa Bay

@Carolina       -3.5

Barry: Carolina

Ira: Tampa Bay

Scott: Carolina

Kansas City

@Cleveland      -3

Barry: KC

Ira: KC

Scott: KC

Arizona

@Atlanta          -7

Barry: Atlanta

Ira: Arizona

Scott: Arizona

Miami

@Minnesota      -5.5

Barry: Minnesota

Ira: Minnesota

Scott: Minnesota

Pittsburgh

@Tennessee        -6

Barry: Tennesse

Ira: Tennessee

Scott: Tennessee

Baltimore

@Cincinnati       -2.5

Barry: Cincinnati

Ira: Cincinnati

Scott: Baltimore

Buffalo

@Green Bay      -12.5

Barry: Green Bay

Ira: Green Bay

Scott: Green Bay

Seattle

@Denver            -3

Barry: Denver

Ira: Seattle

Scott: Denver

St. Louis

@Oakland          -3

Barry: St. Louis

Ira: Oakland

Scott: Oakland

Jacksonville

@San Diego       -7

Barry: Jacksonville

Ira: Jacksonville

Scott: San Diego

New England      -3

@NY Jets

Barry: NY Jets

Ira: New England

Scott: NY Jets

Houston             -2.5

@Washington

Barry: Washington

Ira: Houston

Scott: Washington

NY Giants

Indianapolis       -4.5

Barry: NY Giants

Ira: Indianapolis

Scott: Indianapolis

New Orleans       -5.5

San Francisco                       

Barry: San Francisco

Ira: New Orleans

Scott: New Orleans

VAMOS!

Hey, pikers! What's up, pikers?!  It's been a while...

I've been toying with the idea of a Piker revival for some time now.  Of course, when it comes to the world, and more importantly pop culture, I still have plenty to rant and rave about. But I've been sort of busy with a new tennis blog called Vamos!  You should check it out.  I mean, if you're into that sort of thing...

GOD BLESS THIS MESS



YouTube has failed me. I desperately wanted to link to the clip of Liza singing "God Bless America" before the men's final of the U.S. Open, but sadly there is none to be found. You'll just have to trust me, it's hilarious. Not only did her extreme theatrics turn the patriotic anthem into musical comedy, it also left me wondering why anyone is singing "God Bless America" before a championship match between the three-time defending champion from Switzerland and an upstart Serb challenger.

...AND THIS ONE TOO



Curses, YouTube! Foiled again! Just in case any of you hadn't seen the clip of Britney opening the MTV Video Music Awards, my desire was to link to it here. But alas, Viacom filed a copyright claim and had the instantly infamous footage removed from the web that is world wide. There's a rehearsal video floating around, but it's just not the same. During the show, I used the TiVo to rewind and run it in slow motion, pausing on one particular shot where Britney appears to have six chins.

Between Liza and Britney, I can't call it. Let's just say those damaged divas finished in a dead heat for best belly laugh of the weekend.

TOP TEN FAVORITE COLORS RIGHT NOW

1) Chocolate Brown
2) Sky Blue
3) Burnt Orange
4) Black
5) Forest Green
6) Pale Yellow
7) White
8) Aubergine
9) Beige
10) Pink

TOP TEN TV SHOWS OF SUMMER '07

1) Big Love
2) Flight of the Conchords
3) Newport Harbor
4) The Hills
5) Planet Earth
6) Traveler
7) The Bronx is Burning
8) The Starter Wife
9) Man vs. Wild
10) Entourage

Honorable Mention: Baldwin Hills
(Full Disclosure: I worked on it.)

TOUR DE FARCE



It is the eve of the individual time trial that will determine the winner of the 2007 Tour de France. I wish I could say that I don’t care who wins, but that would be a lie. Despite the best efforts of the spoiled sport of cycling to alienate me as a viewer and a fan, I will still watch the time trial tomorrow and the ceremonial ride into Paris on Sunday. But I will do so under extreme protest.

I am a rabid sports fan. With the exceptions of NASCAR and the WNBA, I closely follow every major sport. For the past seven years or so, every July, I have watched as much of the Tour de France as is humanly possible. TiVo now allows me to ingest each stage as I see fit. Essentially, I scroll through to the moments of truth in each race. If it’s a day for the sprinters, I’ll find the point when the peloton is about to catch the breakaway and watch until the speedsters cross the line. If it’s a mountain stage, I’ll search the telecast for the decisive climb when the leaders separate themselves from the pack and challenge each other until the best of the best emerge. I thoroughly enjoy the grueling nature of Le Tour, a true test of endurance and will, that sees a new hero come to fore on a daily basis. I love the beauty shots of the French countryside, the majestic Alps, and the unforgiving Pyrenees. Phil Ligget and Paul Sherwen bring a wealth of knowledge and contagious enthusiasm to the race with their astute commentary. There’s so much to love about the Tour de France, and even without the obvious rooting interest of a dominating Lance Armstrong, I’m willing to give myself over to it. But my devotion and pleasure were undermined this week.

I suppose the first blow smacked me across the jaw at the end of last year’s Tour. I watched as another American rider, Floyd Landis, put in a monumental effort on a heroic ride that put him in position to win the race just one day after cracking on a severe climb, all but ending his dreams of winning the overall race. It was truly amazing. Phil, Paul, Bob Roll, and Al Trautwig gushed over the performance, calling it one of the greatest single day rides they had ever seen in cycling history. I bought into it. Landis was a hero. And then, of course, it was all tainted by a positive drug test that revealed highly unusual amounts of testosterone in his body. But the drug test results didn’t come out until the tour was over and Landis crowned the champion on the podium in Paris, with the Arc d’Triomphe as a backdrop. Although Landis denied doping, it was hard to believe him. Along with every other fan of cycling, I felt betrayed that his heroic day was nothing more than a drug-fueled farce. But because it was after the fact, I didn’t have to watch the Tour continue day after day with this cloud hanging over its head.

And then the 2007 race began. With the case still pending, Landis was not welcomed back. Ivan Basso, one of the exciting up-and-comers of the sport who seemed to be the only one capable of hanging with Armstrong in the mountains, didn’t make the trip because he was suspended for two years for… you guessed it, doping. Jan Ullrich, for many years Armstrong’s chief rival, was also absent on drug suspicion. So the race started for the first time in I don’t know how long without a rider who had previously worn the coveted yellow jersey into Paris. Someone new would win the Tour. It seemed like everyone was pegging Alexandre Vinokourov, an aggressive rider Kazakhstan, to win the whole thing. Vino, as he is nicknamed, is an unpredictable cyclist who seems to fly in the face of conventional wisdom whenever possible. He attacks when others wouldn’t dare, and that scares the crap out of the peloton. However, early on in the race, on a flat stage with no apparent danger, Vino fell hard. The cameras didn’t catch the actual crash, but he and a teammate both went down and ended up on the side of the road. Vinokourov ripped the Lycra off his cycling shorts and exposed a nasty gash on the back of his thigh. In addition, he was bleeding profusely from both of his knees. The entire team came to his aid and paced him back into the race, limiting Vino’s loses on the day to just a couple of minutes. In heroic fashion, Vinokourov pressed on, riding in pain the next few days with huge bandages on his knees. When they hit the mountains, it was apparent that Vino just wasn’t the same, and he slid back even further in the General Classification, which measures each rider’s cumulative time in the three-week race. It became obvious to all that the favorite wasn’t going to win, which in turn left the field wide open.



Then Vino resurrected himself from the dead. In an individual time trial (simply the rider against the clock), the Kazakh blew the field away by a remarkable two minutes. Once again, Phil and Paul praised the rider they’ve known since his teenage years for his historic performance and welcomed him back into the conversation of who would win the Tour. But, the next day in the mountains, Vino cracked. Unable to keep pace with the leaders in the steep Pyrenees, Vinokourov even waved goodbye to the television camera, symbolically admitting his chances to win were gone. However, he would not go quietly. Climbing up the mountain the next day, Vino got into a breakaway with some serious riders that made it extremely difficult for the peloton to track down. Eventually, Vino left the exclusive pack in the dust and rode alone to glory on a mountaintop finish, aggressively pumping his fist in the air as he crossed the line. He was a hero yet again.

But it was all bullshit. The next day was a rest day for the Tour, and as riders, managers, and tour officials addressed the media, word spread that Vinokourov had failed his drug test following the individual time trial three days prior. The test indicated that Vino had received a blood transfusion before his miraculous ride. The cycling world, and I, were devastated. Vino was supposed to be one of the good guys, a highly likable athlete who rode on guts and courage in addition to his abundant natural talent. Yet he turned out to be just another cheating cyclist on an ever-growing list.

That night, I watched the rest day coverage on Versus, a recap of the previous week of racing. The show was pre-recorded before the news broke, so the dominant story of the rest day was how Alexandre Vinokourov somehow managed to overcome his injuries to ride back to the top of his sport. I couldn’t help but feel for Phil and Paul, who day after day announce the action with pure love and admiration for the brave athletes. Along with everyone else, they were made to look like fools in hindsight. Besides the commentators, who really are the face of the sport, my heart sank when I thought about the riders on Vino’s team Astana who were removed from the Tour as well. One of them, Andreas Kloden, sat in fifth place overall going into the final stages. Despite all appearances to the casual observer, cycling is a team sport. Those who do the grunt work but rarely taste the glory are called domestiques. They bury themselves for their leaders, unselfishly sacrificing their bodies for the greater good of the team. What about those guys? They dragged themselves all over France and up two mountain ranges, only to see their team leader get caught for doping and eliminate them all from the race.



When the dust settled, the Tour rode on. Following the rest day, the riders faced one more brutal day of climbing in the Pyrenees. This would be the day that separated the contenders from the pretenders. Michael Rasmussen, a Danish rider for Team Rabobank, and the wearer of the yellow jersey as the race leader for over a week, found himself under attack from two riders from Team Discovery Channel. 24-year-old Alberto Contador, an unbelievable climber riding in his first Tour de France, and American Levi Leipheimer were the only ones able to stay with Rasmussen on the final climb. Contador was second overall in the General Classification (GC) and Leipheimer fourth. This was it, the moment of truth in this year’s race. Contador and Leipheimer worked together to try and crack Rasmussen but couldn’t. Finally, Rasmussen attacked back and flew free, getting to the top of the mountain first and winning the stage. For all intents and purposes, the Dane had just won the Tour de France. Then, later on that night, news broke that Team Rabobank was removing Rasmussen from the race for lying about his whereabouts in the months leading up to the Tour and missing two random drug tests.

During that climactic climb, I must admit I was watching with a skeptical eyes. For the first time, I actually doubted the veracity of what I was witnessing in the race. How could Rasmussen be that good? How could he go the entire three weeks without cracking once? After all, this guy may be good but he’s no Lance Armstrong. I secretly wished Rasmussen would fail the drug test and Contador would be the new leader of the race. Never in a million years did I imagine his own team would kick him out without proof that he was doping. Rasmussen didn’t even fail a drug test! Of course, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t doping. In all likelihood, he was. But Team Rabobank didn’t want to win that way. In spite of themselves, they made Rasmussen the sacrificial lamb in their desire to show commitment to cleaning up the sport of cycling. And in the process, they killed whatever joy remained in watching this year’s Tour. Contador took over the yellow jersey, but it felt hollow. We didn’t get to see him take it. It just fell to his shoulders.

Yesterday and today were flat stages that saw the peloton unwilling to chase down the breakaways. In comparison, they were boring racing days. But even more than that, I had a bitter taste in my mouth as I fast forwarded through most of the coverage. The Tour has soured for me and for anyone who commits themselves to watching three weeks of a bike race in the middle of the summer. Yet, taking all that into account, there was still an intriguing storyline to the day’s race and a new hero emerged. Sandy Casar, a veteran French rider, was one of the guys in a small group who broke away from the peloton early and stretched their lead to the point where the main pack decided not to chase them down. Along the way, a dog suddenly dashed into the road ahead of Casar. The Frenchman had no time to brake and slammed into the dog, sending both of the them crashing to the surface of the road. The scared dog ran away while a bloody Casar mounted his bike again and pressed on. He rejoined the breakaway group and out-sprinted them to the finish line to win his first ever stage in the Tour de France.

It’s a crying shame that drugs have ruined the sport. Cycling, and the Tour de France in particular, produces high drama on its own. Steroids and performance-enhancing drugs have infiltrated every major sport and their days of reckoning are upon us. One can only wince at the thought of Barry Bonds breaking Hank Aaron’s home run record when everyone knows he had to juice to do it. It’s hard to watch. Just like the doped-up Tour de France. I truly hope they find a way clean up the sport and return it to its natural glory. But I have my doubts. My cynicism now runs so deep I find myself wishing the International Cycling Federation would allow them all to enhance their performance by whatever means they choose and let them go at it. At least then it would be a level playing field.

MY HERO JUST TURNED 21



Rafael Nadal is the undisputed King of Clay. Last week, he turned 21 years old and won his third consecutive French Open title. Nadal defeated #1 Roger Federer in 4 sets to claim the crown and prevent Federer from achieving the one thing he hasn't done in tennis... win the French. Federer was looking to complete his career Grand Slam (all four major titles at some point in a career), and set up himself up to be the first man to win the calendar Grand Slam (the four major titles in a calendar year) since Rod Laver accomplished the feat in 1969. In addition, Federer has entered the discussion of Greatest Player of All-Time. But in order to truly be considered, many think he needs to win the French Open. So history was on the line last Sunday at Roland Garros, and Nadal wrote his own. After winning his 3rd French Open at the ripe age of 21, talk now turns to Bjorn Borg's record of 6 French Open titles. If Nadal stays healthy, he'll eventually break Borg's record and go down as the greatest clay court player in the history of the game.

The Nadal-Federer rivalry is exactly what men's tennis needed. Roger Federer has been the #1 player in the world for a record 177 weeks. Rafael Nadal has been the #2 player in the world for 99 weeks. Nadal has now set the record for most weeks at #2 without being #1. No one on the men's tour seems to be able to beat Federer with any consistency (or at all) except for Nadal. Watching Sunday's final, I couldn't help but notice Roger's body language. He is always so supremely confident and composed on the tennis court, but you could clearly see the frustration at being inferior to Nadal on the red clay in Paris. Nadal actually got inside Federer's head. On clay, Nadal puts so much spin on the ball, plays incredible defense, and has the patience to wait until the right moment in a point to go for the winner. He's unstoppable on the surface. In fact, he has literally yet to be stopped at the French Open, holding a 21-0 career record there and the 3 titles. His intensity on every point intimidates and wears down everyone he plays, including Federer. And he's only 21. What amazes me is the maturity and mental strength at such a young age. You expect a 21-year-old athlete to be in great shape (and Nadal is certainly in phenomenal physical condition), but you don't expect him to have developed the strongest "inner game" by this point. Yet, on clay, he has done exactly that.

This rare combination of discipline, patience, intensity, and determination gives me great admiration for the young man. Add to that his likability in the press, and the fact that he still lives with his family on the island of Mallorca and is still coached by his uncle Tony, and you have the complete picture of why Rafael Nadal is my favorite player on tour since the retirement or Andre Agassi. And the guy has only been legally able to drink for a week.

Viva Nadal!

A SORT OF FRIDAY THE 13TH

Today, June 1st, is the 13th anniversary of the day I moved to Los Angeles. And it happens to be a Friday. So, in a roundabout way it's Friday the 13th for me. I would say that this being my 13th year in SoCal could potentially be a bad omen, but with my string of bad luck in the realm of shitty sitcoms (shitcoms, if you will), I am of the belief that the 13th year will in fact be a lucky one. I better start buying lottery tickets. Or writing more screenplays. Same thing, really...

COUNTING IN CINEMA

On the way to a Memorial Day BBQ, I started working on a list in my head. Having recently watched "One on One" with Robby Benson, I had movie titles with numbers on the brain. There was no traffic on the 101, so I made it to my friend's house fairly quickly. I got up to 13 on my own, then opened up the topic to the group after I settled in. The only rule was that we had to use our collective brain rather than simply look up answers on the internet when we got stuck. Old school, yo.

One on One
Two for the Road
Three Amigos
Fantastic Four
Five Easy Pieces
Six Degrees of Separation
The Magnificent Seven
Eight Men Out
8 1/2
Nine to Five
9 1/2 Weeks
The Ten Commandments
Ocean's Eleven
Twelve Monkeys or Twelve Angry Men
Thirteen or Thirteen Days or Friday the 13th
Saturday the 14th
15 Minutes
Sixteen Candles
Stalag 17
18 Again!
K-19: The Widowmaker
20 Dates
21 Grams
Catch-22
The Number 23
24 Hour Party People
25th Hour

And that's where we hit the wall. I'm not even sure there's a mainstream movie with the number 26 in it. I've been tempted to cheat using IMDb or Google, but have thus far resisted. We came up with all kinds of movies later on down the line, such as:

28 Days Later...
29 Palms
13 Going on 30
Naked Gun 33 1/3
50 First Dates
101 Dalmatians
200 Cigarettes
300
The 400 Blows
Fahrenheit 451
A Thousand Acres
2001: A Space Odyssey
10,000 B.C.
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

But if the list bogs down at 26 and 27, it's difficult for me to feel a sense of completion. Maybe I should just be satisfied that we reached 25. After all, everything goes downhill after 25 anyway...

MY POSSE AIN'T ON BROADWAY



"Entourage" drives me crazy. For starters, never in my life did I imagine I would hate a Jane's Addiction song. But the opening credits for the show have made me despise "Superhero." The tone set by that credit sequence reminds me what I don't like about "Entourage", namely it's superficiality. In general, the show is as paper thin as the garlic Fat Clemenza used to slice with a razor blade. Not that I need tremendous depth from a story about a movie star and his posse, but something to care about would be nice. While the superficial nature of the program is indeed representative of Hollywood life, it doesn't necessarily make for great television.

My biggest issue with the show is character development, or lack thereof. Besides Ari, I can't think of a single significant thing that has happened to any of the main characters. They go up a little bit, they go down a little bit, the movie is on, the movie is off, etc., etc. I don't require the standard sitcom axiom of seeing characters learn lessons and show growth every episode. But here we are in Season 3, and it seems like everyone except Ari is in practically the same place they were in the pilot. Finally, in this past Sunday's episode, we had something to care about. Because the characters actually cared about something. Vince showed a passion for the Pablo Escobar project that you'd expect from a theoretically high-minded superstar in the making. We often see him sticking to his principles about what movies he wants to make or doesn't want to make, but we rarely see him play the power game that underlies so much of the entertainment industry. As someone in the business of show, that's the kind of stuff I want to see. For example, in an episode last season, when Ari is about to defect from his agency to start his own and has to sit down with the heads of the rival agencies, it felt like we were getting a peek behind the curtain. And it made for somewhat compelling drama, which is really the most we can expect from "Entourage."

Speaking of drama, if this past episode taught us anything, it's that Johnny Drama should be the center of the show. Ari may be the funniest character, but Drama is the most vulnerable. He's the only one who consistently shows emotion, and consequently, the one we care about the most. He's the underdog in a town where the favorite wins nine times out of ten. But that one upset win is something truly worth rooting for. The last shot of "The Resurrection" illustrates my point perfectly. Drama finds out his new TV show is a hit, drops to his knees, looks out over the Grand Canyon, raises his arms, and yells, "Victory!" I actually found myself with a rush of good feelings for the character. It might have been the most visceral moment in the run of the show. But did it have to take three seasons to get there?

My frustration with "Entourage" is that it could be so much more. The setup is there, but it rarely delivers anything surprising. And I've already lowered my expectations to accommodate the show's limitations. More often than not, I get to the end of an episode and say out loud, "That's it?" It goes by like a California breeze, but it doesn't have enough gust to blow out the smog.

RUN, RICKY, RUN... UR... BURN, RICKY, BURN



Dear Ricky Williams,

What it do? In light of your latest positive drug test, I felt compelled to drop you a line. I think it's become pretty clear by now that you're never going to be the dominant running back you once were for my beloved Miami Dolphins. And you know what... that's okay. You had your day in the sun, and you were a beast. I'm sorry those prime years didn't lead to a Super Bowl, but you led the league in rushing and you showed the world your special talent. Now it's time to give up. Why come back to be half the player you once were? What's the point? As far as priorities go, you've made it clear that smokin' the ganja is higher on the list than carrying the football as the workhorse back for an NFL team. I don't blame you. You and I have both seen what happens to running backs with long careers... they can't walk after they retire! So I say ditch the pigskin and concentrate on the herb.


If your desire to get back into the league is about money, you've got to let it go. Get a job, dude. There are plenty of jobs out there that don't test for the kush. You've got a college education and some skills, it shouldn't be that hard to find work. A regular job will allow you to get casual when the mood strikes and give you a little walking around money. I mean, I sincerely hope you have some cash left from your NFL days. If not, you could be screwed. Because the kind is not cheap, and I know you don't want to be smoking the MexiBud with seeds and stems and whatnot. If you've spent every last dollar, Tyson-style, then by all means, apply for reinstatement with the league in September. Just don't plan on being a Dolphin.

By the way, when I was going out with this girl a few years ago, her family got me one of your Dolphin jerseys for Christmas. It was the greatest Christmas present this Jew has ever gotten. So I'll always have my little piece of your glorious days in a Dolphin uniform. Don't ruin that memory by returning to the league as a mediocre backup just to make some green to purchase some green. Don't do it, man.

Burn one down for me.

Easy skankin',

Piker

BEANER DOG

Yesterday morning, my next door neighbor asked me if I would walk his dog a couple of times a day for the rest of the week. He offered to pay me for my trouble and I agreed. Around four in the afternoon, I paid a visit to Winston the Chihuahua. As soon as I walked into the apartment, he stood up on the bed and stared at me. Within seconds, he was shivering with fear at the sight of a strange mustachioed man in Nike running gear. I must tell you that my next door neighbor is actually dogsitting Winston, a rescue, for a few weeks as a favor to his friend. So I was given the task of dogsitting for the dogsitter. After talking to Winston in calming tones and gently approaching him to pet his head, he finally gave in and let me put the leash on him for a walk. Though he was still shivering as I attached the leash to his collar.

I took Winston for a non-eventful walk up and down the block, making sure he urinated and picking up his feces in a plastic bag. As we stepped back into my neighbor's apartment, I bent down to take the leash off as I closed the front door behind me. In a split second, Winston turned and bolted for the crack in the door. I caught him with my leg, smooshing him against the door jamb... but he managed to wriggle away and take off down the stairs leading to the street. I yelled for him to stop, then chased him down to street level. Once he hit the sidewalk, he kicked it into fifth gear and made a run for the border. I ran after him, yelling his name repeatedly, but he had no intention of stopping. On tired legs from having just completed a six-mile run hours before, I sprinted for as long as I could, but was no match for his four little legs and low center of gravity. A guy on a motorcycle saw what was going on and tried to cut him off, but Winston craftily eluded him as well. Halfway down the block, I was losing a visual on Winston, until eventually he was completely out of sight. My heart sank. Exhausted and panting, I slowed down to a speed-walk in the general direction I last saw him. I asked everyone I encountered along the way if they had seen a little black and brown Chihuahua. If I had time to hire a sketch artist, he would've drawn something like this:



No one had seen the dog. I started to panic as I neared Sunset Boulevard, thinking it was possible he hit the busy intersection and god knows what happened. I crossed Sunset and walked up a block or two, but soon realized I was looking for a miniscule Chihuahua in a giant city. How could this have happened? Am I the worst dogsitter in the world? What kind of horrible person am I to have lost someone else's dog? Riddled with guilt and sweating profusely, I quickly jogged back to the apartment to see if the dog had returned. No such luck. I grabbed my cell phone and placed a call to my next door neighbor. I left a message that I'm absolutely sure freaked him out when he heard it because of the utter panic in my voice. Disaster for me. Disaster for him. I roamed the neighborhood for an hour or so, keeping my eyes peeled for Winston, calling his name, asking everyone I passed if they saw him. Nothing. As if he had vanished. It felt like death.

Faced with that kind of loss, I turned to the only source I could... God. I asked for help in guiding me back to that shivering little shit. I tried to have faith that it would happen. I talked to my next door neighbor on the phone, and although he was spooked, he seemed to remain relatively calm for me. Nearly defeated, I headed back to the apartment one more time to see if Winston had come home. On the way back, I experienced one of the greatest moments of relief in my life. I caught a glimpse of Winston playing in a neighbor's backyard with two other dogs. "Winston!" A guy popped around the corner and said he had seen me walking by a couple of times but didn't realize I was looking for the dog. I thanked him profusely as he handed me the tiny terror. Just as the guy placed Winston in my arms, my cell phone rang. It was my next door neighbor. I answered the call and immediately said, "I got him." Total relief on both ends of the phone. We laughed about it for a minute and my neighbor told me not to worry about a thing. "It's over", I said. "After all that, I'm holding him in my arms." I carried Winston back into my neighbor's apartment, shut the door tightly behind me, scolded the disobedient devil dog until he started shivering again, then went home. I immediately hopped into the shower and scrubbed off the guilt, tension, worry, and stress. I was off the hook, thank God.

I sincerely doubt I'll ever eat Taco Bell again.