"Faded tattoos on our legs and backs and our feet are buried in the sand..."

The same faces;  Anthony, Brad, Baldwin, Adam, Ryan, Christian, O'Conner, Mikey, Black Jon, Lentini, Sprite, myself, and plenty of others I'm forgetting, standing up front, pressed against the stage, yelling every word, every single time.  I had just gotten into the Long Island Hardcore scene after stealing a cassette tape copy of Start Today from my friend Joe's older brother Tom.  A few weeks later, Tom reluctantly brought Joe and I to our first show, Mind Over Matter and Silent Majority at the Medford VFW Hall.  That night helped shape what the rest of my teenage years would become.  It was all downhill from there.  We rarely ever missed a Silent Majority show.  We would drive to skatespots all over Long Island, in my sweet station wagon, having Life Of A Spectator sing-alongs the entire way.  I remember the man crush we all had on Tommy.  We pranked called him at home...and at work...and prank internetted him.  We assaulted him outside of shows with water guns and water balloons.  We tried to tie his shoe laces together while he jumped around on stage.  I think it's time for another reunion...

Coming soon:  Silent Majority at the Medford VFW circa 94 or 95.

Weekend Practice Report

The first practice of the season didn't go so well.  I sat down on my couch at 4pm, ready to take in the Jets game, some highlight shows, and then watch the Giants lock up home-field advantage.  Eight hours of Football, no bathroom breaks.  I thought fatigue or the need to urinate would be the biggest obstacle to overcome, I quickly found out there was a much bigger obstacle.  The New York Jets.  I remember parts of the first quarter...and then I remember waking up just before kickoff of the Giants game.  If Sunday had been the actual Superbowl of Lazy...I wouldn't have made it through the first hour.  Luckily, the Jets will not be playing on January 1st...or anytime there after.

This morning we practiced outside in the elements, you never know what gameday may bring...

The Superbowl of Lazy

About a month ago I received an email from Gringo Entertainment Correspondent Frankie Baez encouraging me to try out for the ESPN Ultimate Couch Potato Competition, a contest won by the person who can do absolutely nothing longer than anyone else. I got a call Friday morning just before I had a wisdom tooth yanked out (thank god for pain killers) inviting me to take on the reigning champion. I will be competing against three other idiots, including last years champ who watched 29 consecutive hours of sports, at 11am on New Years Day.

I was originally torn between the following options:
1. Ordering ridiculous amounts of food until I vomit.
2. Getting trashed and eventually disqualified for something stupid.
3. Getting up and leaving for no reason...with-in the first five minutes.

Then I thought of one of my all-time favorite quotes...

"The quality of a person's life is in direct proportion to their commitment to excellence, regardless of their chosen field of endeavor. " - Vince Lombardi

Fuck it, I'm going for the win. If you don't see any posts from me in the near future it is because I am busy training.

ESPN Zone, New Years Day, 11am til I piss my pants, be there.


Here is the brilliant answer that got me an invitation to the Final Four:

Do you think the inventor of the yellow first down line should be awarded the Nobel Prize for physics?

That stupid yellow line was invented for people who don't understand football. It is the equivalent of that crazy glowing hockey puck with the trail following it that lasted all of 10 minutes. If I see one more play that comes up a half yard short of a first down and hear one more idiot yell "Come on! Couldn't he see the yellow line!!!!!" I might completely lose it. Seriously though, as much as you probably want to, I suggest not choosing me. It won't even be a contest. If you think Tiger is dominant it is because you haven't challenged me to a competition that involves sports and food yet. A blowout may seriously hurt your ratings....pick someone else.

Sincerely,

Brian Schatzel

"The unsung hero of random hilarious"

I was deleting pictures from my phone today when I came upon this beauty, I didn't have it in me to hit the delete button. Then I came home to this work of art by Mr. Contrast. I can't take credit for this Long Beach Boulevard sidewalk masterpiece, but I am proud to have captured it via Blackberry. Cock and Balling never gets old. Here are my two favorite cock and ball stories of recent memory...

1. West End, Long Beach, NY: The residents of 61 Tennessee make the fatal mistake of leaving their front door unlocked. Mr. Contrast shows up to an unlocked empty apartment and wanders around for a few seconds. Then he goes into a coma of immaturity as he begins to draw cock and ball after cock and ball onto post-it notes and plaster the walls of the unsuspecting victims. When he snaps out of it he isn't sure how he had done it or how long it had taken him, but 61 Tennessee had hundreds of cock and ball post-its covering its walls and ceilings. Gnarly.

2. Costa Rica, sometime after midnight: I sit out the night due to injuring my foot. Contrast and STB make the usual trek to the bar formerly known as Blew Dog's. On the walk home they come upon a bonfire, not unusual. They sit down and begin talking to some girl. I won't get into how stupid she is, but trust me, she defines stupid. While being annoyed by Miss Stupid, STB sculpts a giant SPURTING cock and balls out of sand, stands up...admires his work...and vanishes.

Overheard on the F Train

In September you were introduced to Frankie Baez when he reported his experience with guido Yankee fans at Shea Stadium, which I can not wait to see destroyed by a wrecking ball....because it doesn't have dipping dots. Frankie is now reporting to us from the F Train, maybe we should hire him full-time.

Overheard on the F Train: "Good morning ladies and gentleman. I am homeless and need your help. If anybody can spare some change I would greatly appreciate it. I also accept money from asians, if that's humanly possible."

Anyone want to fund a documentary film about NYC bums?

He skates too...I swear.

Slapped this together last weekend. This is my nephew. Hire him.