Fear Monger

2009-03-17T21:05:00.000-07:00

Jessie White goes red, challenges Fear Monger to blog/dance-off.

2008-09-10T09:01:00.000-07:00

2008-09-08T12:51:00.001-07:00

This just in: Yunnan posts on hold until computer, best known for its role in 2008: A Beijing Disgrace Odyssey, decides it no longer wants to kill me.

2008-09-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Consistent with my long career of ass backwards predictions, beginning with me breaking 100 at Midlane when I was 6 yrs-old with a La Jolla 2-iron in my bag, I prophesized sitting volleyball to be unmarketable and as appealing to fans as sitting shiva. Subtract the free food and you've got yourself a funeral. Well, if I wasn't born in hot dickity-two, I was wrong, just like that time I bought stock in laser disc tongs just prior to The Matrix DVD release.

Turns out, balloons and banners showed up in droves to cheer on their respective delegations. Contradictory to Paralympic spirit though, the cheering sections were segregated. As the Balloons knotted the match up at 2 sets a piece, their fans floated obscenities towards the banner fans, whose paper thin tolerance was well documented. The Banner squad, however, managed to hang tough, spelling out their toughness to the sitting volleyball world, ultimately deflating their opponents along with their overblown fanbase.

2008-09-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

Double helix in the sky tonight . Throw out the hardware. Let's do it right Aja. When all my dime dancin' is through, I run to you.

2008-09-06T21:35:00.000-07:00

2008-09-06T21:16:00.000-07:00

Yunnan 1.3

Dali is postcard material. Mountains border the east, and a lake borders the west, with the Old Town of Dali nestled adorably in between. We arrived at the Jade Emu Guest House and were greeted by the owner, Australian Dave, and his Chinese female possession (this is how he treated her, at least). Dave was the first of several ex-pats we encountered who seemed like they had fled their homeland in haste. I’m talking people with grim pasts: from actually showing up to school naked to premeditated vehicular manslaughter. From shoplifting videogames from Best Buy to shoplifting children from day care. I don’t blame them either. If I were burying the bloody (or naked) hatchet of my past, I’d be on the next flight to Dali sitting first class sitting next to Michael Jackson.

One such fellow was the owner of the Bad Monkey Bar, Mike, who grew up in Lake Forest. I don’t blame him for wanting to be on the opposite side of the planet from Lake Forest, but I got the feeling from talking to him that the Ralph Lauren-sponsored suburb decided old Mike had a few too many pleats in his pants. Or, his family was Nouveau riche, which is enough to get you exiled from there as well.

Either way, Mike’s bar was shady. Seated at the bar was a squirrelly British fellow with heavyset, blonde polish ladies in his right and left holsters . They becoming rambunctiously faded, but were not, in fact, drinking...

(To be continued)

This gentleman was getting a bamboo tattoo upstairs at Bad Monkey. Thats a piece of bamboo, whittled into a sharp point and soaked in ink. The tattoo artist uses this object to repeatedly stab the design into your skin. So, instead of graffiti, you get a George Seurat. Personally, I'd rather spend my Saturday in the park with friends.

2008-09-06T20:37:00.000-07:00

Yunnan 1.2

The buses don't pass by here much anymore.

A typical restaurant in Dali where the fresh ingredients are displayed in the front of the restaurant. Perfect for pointing. But where do the ingredients come from?

Dali's fresh food market, idiots! (Elegance in Meats?)

Born in the sauce.

You may recognize the woman on the right, still in character from her starring role in the Nintendo64 smash hit, Zelda.

Kanoodling

2008-09-05T13:43:00.000-07:00

2008-09-05T03:29:00.000-07:00

In the Paralympics, a substitute prosthetic limb is called a "prosthitute."

2008-09-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

An abundance of lovin' filled the air as George Benson and co-headliner Al Jarreau were dually invested in "this love," at the Beijing Exhibition Theater Thursday night. A friend of the family, the Givin' It Up tour's sound engineer met my demands, upholding my precedent of total-access privileges by comping 3rd row tickets and providing VIP passes for Action Bassman and I.

The sold out concert made me bounce, wiggle, and do this and that in my seat. Afterwards, we concluded Al Jarreau is a spastic lunatic and George Benson is the hippest dude on the planet with a facelift. He's had more work done than Beijing prepping for the Olympics.

2008-09-03T02:37:00.000-07:00

Yunnan.

It began on a street corner outside the Kunming bus station at 10:30 Tuesday morning. It was overcast and refreshingly cooler than Beijing. My travel compadres, Bassman and Diane, and I were trying to find a restaurant, which in a Chinese city is like trying to find a homophobe at an NRA rally. As we surveyed the street corner for options, I saw a donkey pulling a man on a bicycle pulling a flatbed with recyclables piled on it. Then, a motorcycle sped around the corner, and in its sidecar was a goat. As I rubbernecked to make sure that wasn’t a Klonazapam hallucination, when I saw a Chinese man with the world’s greatest mustache, like the tail of a raccoon under his lip, watching over a child, pants around ankles, peeing in the middle of the sidewalk. After lunch, we hopped the bus to Dali. A four-hour nap later, we arrived and were greeted by a hyper-energetic, middle-aged, female cabby…

(To be continued)

2008-09-02T23:15:00.000-07:00

Remember way back to a few weeks ago when the media was nutso about China's oppressive government restrictions? Anticipation of competition seemed ancillary to that of Internet snooping, limitations on protesting, and pollution issues. ESPN's Jim Caple suggested then, that we should look introspectively at our country's policies before deeming ourselves virtuous. Acknowledging, like we all should, that China's relations with Darfur are deplorable, Caple reminds us that our own foreign policies are far from rosey. Working with journalists throughout the Olympics, I did not get the impression that anyone felt legitimately stifled. We covered events, asked questions, and wrote stories with complete immunity.

Cut to the ongoing Republican National Convention in St. Paul. Caple's suggestion, in fact, was fully appropriate. With journalists covering the circus-like convention being gassed, roughed up, and arrested by military forces for conspiracy to riot, the RNC makes Beijing look like a First Amendment foreign embassy.

Previously in staunch support of all brands of fear-mongering, I do not support this instance as it's being used to unjustly suffocate the pen and pad.

Glen Greenwald is all over it.

2008-09-02T16:30:00.000-07:00

Move over Jay-Z, hello Jaiye Bynoe (by-no-eeeeee). I've been listening to Jaiye for years now, ever since GOD, disguised as a bike messenger, delivered his demo to Mickle Jickens' corner cubicle in New York. Jaiye's style is distinct from the rest of the candy rappers out there. He's not about "sonic quality." He cares not about "flow," or "musicianship." He's isn't all obsessed with "making sense." He's a vessel through which the the plights of homelessness and romance -- not mutually exclusive -- are depicted.

My favorite jam is Freaky Freaky. Never, in the history of R&B, has a "boom boom clap" beat been so sensually employed. Jaiye really brings it from the heart (as promised by the album title) on this track.

Only you can make me do the things that you want me to do. When you're far away, and I can't get, to you. Waiting impatiently for your return, I...really...miss you.

Here, Jaiye spits hot truth gravy all over the perils of separation anxiety. Plus, who among us hasn't waited impatiently for something or someone? I know right now I'm waiting impatiently for my PA, Zhu, to bring me a wintergreen julep to wash down this lobster omelette. And afterwards, I'll brush my teeth, from the heart, with a liberal application of Jaiye Bynoe's truth paste.

2008-09-01T05:39:00.000-07:00

Jorance Chan (Jackie, his Hollywood nickname) is multi-talented. I've been saying it for years. He's not just the stereotypical, ass-beating, Chinese buddy movie co-star we've come to adore in movies like Rush Hour and Shanghai Noon. Jorance also makes a mean cup of jo. I ordered a cup from Jackie Chan's Cafe at the Beijing Airport. It woke me up like a roundhouse kick to the jugular, the likes of which only Jorance could deliver to a miscellaneous Chinese bad guy in a warehouse. Well, that bad guy was my early morning fatigue, and that cup of coffee performed all its own stunts, let me tell you.

If you don't believe in Jorance Chan's versatility, look no further than at the wall of his cafe, adorned with his many faces hanging crookedly. (Is he trying to get work from this display?) He's everything from CEO with a smile, to cause-you-a-world-of-pain with a smile. Even better, he'll leave room for cream.

2008-08-30T22:46:00.000-07:00

I now have a Kung Fu master, Ding Yi, a former body guard for the Chinese Triads, who I met in the mountains of the Tiger Leaping Gorge. More on that, forthcoming.

2008-08-30T09:57:00.000-07:00

El Tropicano Wades Into the Heart of Darkness

Picture this, Reader: Senor T wading mid-thigh high in a mangrove swamp in the middle of a tropical Caribbean island. The smell of sulfur is thick. The mosquitoes are horrific, biting me on the legs with impunity. Tropicano is wearing a bathing suit and the T-Shirt pictured above. Shoes were more trouble than they were worth in the swamp, so I carried them mostly.

After emerging from what can only be described as a heart of darkness and a gateway to Hades, a deserted beach with clear water and sand; soft enough to sell to rich old ladies looking to stay young. There, I ate coconut flesh and sipped coconut milk, while washing swamp mud off my body.

After an hour of lounging, we began our return voyage, avoiding the stench of Hades and instead trekking over volcanic rock through the bush. At one point, we had to cross a formerly alligator infested bay. Our ruffian guide informed us that alligators still roamed, inducing bowel loosening fear among the group.

This trek through the swamps of Utila is not recommended.

2008-08-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

Leaving Dali now by way of mountain bus to Lijang. More from Lijang.

Until then, Yuuuuuuunan that soldya boy.

2008-08-27T19:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Kobe, OJ, and fellow afflicted celebrities,

I feel your pain, for today I have arrived in your company via fraudulant legal claims against my name. Facing potentially image-shattering charges, iPod destruction, I too, will purify my muddied name.

The words of my step-cousin, Andre 3000, best summarize this quandry, which is as old as celebrity itself:

Where there is cheese there are rats, Where ever there are rats there
are cats, Where ever there are cats there are dogs, If you got the dogs you got
bitches, bitches always out to put their paws on your riches, If you got riches,
you got glitches, If you got glitches in your life computer turn it off and then
reboot it, now you back on,

Since cameras were were forbidden, I've provided a courtroom sketch of the plaintiff below:

2008-08-25T15:48:00.001-07:00

BEHOLD! Senor Tropicano.

Ungrateful readers: Warning. If you are reading this without a mustache you do not have proper protection.

Now you may be scratching your goatee sans mustache asking yourself how Senor Tropicano managed to jet off to foreign lands and achieve pretirement status while you took recession-era job offers at banks that bought your neighbors mortgage, bought a credit swap and then went meltdown status. The answer is simple: Options.

As I flick a mosquito filled with my alcohol and nicotine tinged sangre, I also flick 10 Lempira bills at a pool boy/servant carrying a chocolate milkshake and a box of Raisinettes. The raisins are for my pet parrot, Eddiverto, and the milkshake is to look at. For you see, when not scuba diving with whale sharks and sea turtles, I run my body on a refined mix of alcoholic beverages.

Reader, I am in the Bay Islands of Honduras, sipping cocktails like a hummingbird sips nectar - vigorously. Much to your chagrin, I am within ten steps of a pool and twenty from a bar. On Thursday, I will fly from this rock, proceeding to the Laguna de Apoyo (Google it). There I will throw my pretirement Delorian into full throttle, racking up credits for international expeditions yet unplanned.

And do I need insurance for such risky endeavors. Sorry, Johnny B, but no. I am scorching the sun burning the rocket fuel that comes out of my ass. Its entirely sanctioned by the FAA.

Dear Reader, I invite you to come visit as soon as you get your vacation time.

Until then farewell,
Senor Tropicano

2008-08-25T12:47:00.000-07:00

In Barry's absence, I will be posting from my current home, and home of the future Fear Monger World Headquarters, Los Angeles.

In keeping with FM's sports theme of late, and since I'm still recovering from Olympic fever, I played racquetball today. Before you make fun of my appearance, I'll have you know that the goggles are a YMCA requirement, the headband is necessary to keep my long hair out of my eyes, and the mustache has proven to be such an effective weapon distracting my opponent, I'm not sure I could win without it. Not pictured: Air Flight '89s, hiked-socks, short-shorts, and just a hint of rim.

2008-08-25T09:30:00.000-07:00

Dear loyal FM readers,

I'm sure all three of you will be devastated to learn that FM will be vacationing in the Yunnan Province from August 26th to September 3rd as part of my post-Olympic cool down / PCP rehabilitation. The circus has left town and so must I.

During my hiatus, however, some very prominent authors have promised to contribute; Mickle Jickens, Lawrence Knightengale, and Senior Tropicano, to name a few.

In one week, I will return to Beijing with a smörgåsbord of Paralympics jokes and a buffet of venereal diseases.

Fart,
Bawrence Lird

2008-08-25T09:16:00.000-07:00

Chuan Ban for some stomach disintegrating hell-fire.

2008-08-24T23:58:00.000-07:00

One world, one dream, one million volunteers

Fear Monger published in China Daily under pseudonym "Daniel Libman"

2008-08-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

2008-08-24T23:25:00.000-07:00

2008-08-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

Went to the gold medal ceremony party at Club Bud, a club that Budweiser opened for the Olympics. Free beer all night. I walked around offering to buy girls beer because I was doing very well as a volunteer in Beijing. Theres a crazy room with a dancefloor, a lounge situation, and an outdoor area with a pool and several cabanas. Rhonaldino occupied one of them. After almost falling in the pool, I resorted to the clubby room where, swallow, laser lights and thumping beats seemed appropriate for my mood. The US women's basketball team showed up. No Candace Parker though, so who cares. I offered to buy a Swedish handball player, Johanna, a beer. She laughed and we started dancing; first in a group with her giant handball teammates, but then alone. The first time we bumped I was thrust several feet backwards. Maybe because she's a 6'1 Olympian, or maybe because I'd bought too many drinks. Either way, I had to support myself in a lunge position as we cut it up the rest of the night. She invited me back to the Olympic Village to eat free McDonald's. As we parted ways I asked for her phone number. She simply said, "No," but gave me her email as a consolation. Woke up three hours later. Hopped to the IBC to catch the media bus to the Basketball stadium. Saw the second half of the bronze medal game and cheered the shit out of Nocioni. Cheered my balls off during the USA game. Somebody buy me a beer. A Spanish journalist got mad at me for clapping, not cheering. He pulled out a newspaper and pointed to the medal count with china atop it. His point was lost on me. His colleagues gestured towards him, rolling their eyes and pointing their pointer fingers at the sides of their heads, rotating them circularly. Got misty-eyed during the medal ceremony. Met Doug Collins. Took pictures on the court. Went to the press conference where the whole team sat wrapped in American flags. They took turns bagging on a Swedish reporter for asking a dumb question. Turns out in FIBA play, there is such a thing as a stupid question. Shook Chris Paul's, Michael Redd's, D-Wade's, and Bosh's hands after the conference. Gave a formal handshake and sincere congratulations to Coach K (because his life is about never settling), and Obama-bumped Kobe. I was visibly erect throughout. Afterwards, I ate an entire large pizza by myself and passed out at 7 P.M. Makeshift closing ceremony, but who gives a fuck?

2008-08-23T01:57:00.000-07:00

Counter-consensual sexy attack. Later Argentina.

2008-08-21T22:28:00.000-07:00

From Scalize's blog:

What you have to understand about poverty in the developing world is that it is not a function of lack of desire, willpower, motivation, or organization. It is a lack of opportunity and resources. Fundamentally. In six weeks, we rallied twenty-four independent communities around partnerships of teenagers to solicit small projects, share the financing burden, and finish them. Our success rate was 90%.

I am proud of what our volunteers accomplished and proud to have been able to support them from a far, as well as directly in supervisory role. If you are inclined to donate charitably to international aid organizations, make sure they are building bridges to opportunities. Empowerment is key to development.

2008-08-21T19:53:00.000-07:00

Feldman!

http://www.pioneerlocal.com/highlandpark/news/1118392,hp-Libman

Any pub is good pub.

2008-08-21T02:04:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of Senior YouTube Analyst, Tad Stacey:

2008-08-20T23:28:00.000-07:00

When I interview basketballers after practices and games, my quotes are posted immediately on the Olympic news wire, INFO2008, an intranet information system for the Beijing Olympic Games and the primary outlet for all ONS information and reports. From there, all accredited Journalists from around the world can legally shoplift my quotes to enhance their stories.

After Australia prevailed against Russia, for example, I interviewed Andrew Bogut in the mixed zone (the tunnel) as he came off the floor. The information I skillfully provoked and its context were plugged in here.

Criticized after opening qualifying play with a pair of lackluster losses, Bogut and the Aussies came back in a big way, with Bogut scoring 22 points to lead Australia over the 2007 EuroBasket champs.
"A lot of people have doubted us along the way," Bogut said. "No one believes in us but us."
****
"Individual performance means nothing in the Olympic Games," said Bogut, whose 8-of-13 shooting included a pair of 3-pointers and who added a team-high eight rebounds as well as two assists and a steal. "We simply learned from two bad games," he added. "It was a great game for me, but the most important thing is that we're going to the next round of the Olympics."

The immediacy with which news diffuses from the Olympics is astonishing. Flash-quote reporters literally run from the mixed zone to computers to submit the content they've gathered. Therefore, within minutes of a match's conclusion, thoughts and reactions from participants become available. There is no news cycle during the Olympics, rather a constant, unclotted gush of information spewing from every Olympic orifice. Essentially, the Olympic News Service functions like the AP or Reuters of the Olympics, an international news agency through a central editorial team.

Instantaneous access to Olympic news is a great service to journalists and broadcasters in Beijing, but also allows the Olympic machine to spin its own wheels and dominate international news for nearly a month. It's accessibility purveys its popularity and vice versa. News consumers in every time zone crave Olympic news, and the ONS are the primary enablers. Who sets the news agenda though? Is it the consumers who can't get enough of everything Olympic, or the news agencies who make Olympic news front page news? The chicken, or the egg?

Either way, it's been invigorating on the ground floor.

2008-08-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Wonderful, thanks. I'll just come back then.

2008-08-19T20:52:00.000-07:00

Perspective:

Whole Foods

Bed Bath and Beyond

REI

2008-08-18T20:36:00.001-07:00

From FM's Senior Gymnastics Correspondent, Shira Weiss:

"It's amazing that Winkler only appears to be about 3/4 of a Shawn Johnson taller than Shawn Johnson."

2008-08-18T00:23:00.000-07:00

The Redeem Team is terrifying in real life.

2008-08-18T00:00:00.000-07:00

My new best friend, Mario.

2008-08-16T19:44:00.000-07:00

(BEIJING, August 17) -- The IOC announced its new official Olympic unit of measurement today, the Shawn Johnson. Therefore, Jamaica's Usain Bolt is no longer the men's 100 meter champion, rather the men's 874,000 Shawn Johnson champion.

The IOC claimed it felt the need to immortalize the American gymnast's name and silver medal victory in Olympic lore as a sympathy to the harsh criticism she's endured from circumscribed bloggers worldwide.

2008-08-16T17:49:00.000-07:00

Prior to last night I was a lost soul, wandering aimlessly about hutongs of life in search of anything, but usually hookers, to inject meaning to my life. So what, I'm at the Olympics? That means nothing divided by zero to me. My life was as empty as my whiskey glass and my colon.

That all changed in an adderall heartbeat when I met Craig Saiger. I was alone in an elevator following the USA / Spain post game press conference. The doors began closing when an arm thrust between them. They reopened, slowly revealing him. The man who once supposedly scored 106 points in a single high school basketball game. The man who openly admits to having a blonde fetish. The man with more tricked out blazers than the corner or York and Roosevelt Roads. The man who would in a few short minutes would buy me one beer and seven for himself, Craig Sager.

We talked basketball and about Beijing as we walked towards the media concession stand.

"Beeeeeeer," he hollered at the employee like an alcoholic zombie. He even left a tip.

"NBC's really toned down your image," I said. "What's with that?"

"Yeah I know," he said. "They got me in this polo."

Shoving cans into a bag already overflowing with roster sheets and player bios, he shook my hand and said "Good luck," disappearing into the bathroom, likely to shotgun the seven beers he'd just purchased.

Just then, Sager's wisdom was tangible. I realized, that in the wardrobe of life, sometimes you have to wear the polo to arrive at the tangerine suit with lilac piping. And when life's got you in that polo, stifling your outter flamboyance, your inner flamboyance can still shine as brightly as a cannery yellow, mandarin-style blazer with matching wing-tip shoes, as Sager exemplified with his excessive beer order.

I know that pale yellow polo and khaki pant wasn't the real Craig. But there was no mistaking his true, polychromatic essence, radiating its brilliance onto my newly uncovered soul.

Sager, you saved my life.

2008-08-16T00:51:00.000-07:00

(BEIJING, August 16) -- Angola shocked Greece 102-61 in a group B match in the preliminary round of the Olympic Men's Basketball tournament on Saturday, August 16.

Angola's Eduardo Mingas was the high scorer of the game, netting 23 points and snagging three rebounds. His teammate Luis Costa contributed 16 points.

Ioannis Bourousis of Greece gave a stunning performance, scoring 22 points in just 13 minutes of playing time. He made all ten of his field goal attempts while grabbing five rebounds.

The first quarter saw the two team's scores neck-and-neck, 12-11 in Greece's favor. The next two quarters determined Angola's fate though. Greece scored 31 points in the second quarter and 38 in the third, while Angola only managed 17 and 14 respectively.

Facing what they perceived to be an insurmountable deficit, Angola surprised the world by substituting in its secret weapons, the Fuwas, to help them topple the Greeks. Not since 1996, when the Looney Tunes recruited Michael Jordan to aid their defeat of the Monstars, has such a drastic turn of events occurred in international or intergalactic play.

While many thought the Fuwas were indigenous to China, their Angolan step-cousins grant them eligibility to compete for Angola during the Olympics.

Angola played into significantly better form in the fourth quarter scoring 60 points, while officials took 20 points away from Greece for no apparent reason.

Greece center Andreas Glyniadakis commented on the upset afterward: "What the shit is a Fuwa?” he said.

After the shocking defeat, Greek guard Theo Papaloukas uses his jersey to hide the tears.

Greece tries to match the physical play of the Fuwas.

The flustered Greeks search for answers as team chemistry begins to unravel.

All Greece can do is stand and watch as the Fuwas dance through the lane with ease.

2008-08-15T09:30:00.000-07:00

Shawn Johnson may be an Olympic medalist, but she isn't tall enough to ride roller coasters. She is startlingly small. Good news for her though, that despite being washed up at 17, she'll be employed on St. Patrick's day every year for the rest of her life.

That seat is as overcrowded by Meredith's ass as Beijing is with tourists.

2008-08-15T09:20:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I convinced a Chinese volunteer to let me into the Bird's Nest to watch Athletics without a ticket. When a physical threat precedes, it really doesn't take that much convincing.

2008-08-15T08:41:00.000-07:00

Gold Medal winners Daniel Libman (middle) and Ryan Lochte (right) pose for a picture with an adoring fan.

2008-08-13T10:01:00.000-07:00

C Glaze sent me an article about a man who posed as a police officer in the "age verification unit" as an excuse to obtain free porn from adult book stores in Longmont, Colorado.

This genius reminds me of Allen Heckard, the beautiful mind (and apparently face) who sued Michael Jordan for defamation, permanent injury, and emotional pain and suffering, claiming he looked like MJ and had been mistaken for him every day for 15 years. Heckard also sued Nike founded, Phil Knight, for making Jordan such a distinguishable figure. He filed the suit himself for a reasonable $832 million.

Just how bad was it for Heckard?

“Even when I go to the gym I'm being accused of playing ball like him (Jordan)," he said.

I'm going to sue Denzel Washington using the legal precedent set by Allen Heckard. But, rather than filing suit through a court of law, I'm going to show up at Denzel's door claiming I'm from the "lookalike defamation bureau" demanding cash on the spot... and his entire porn collection.

2008-08-12T23:00:00.001-07:00

Check out the modern, ultra socially progressive signage in Beijing...

Not dissimilar to this image from the 1997 release B*A*P*S...

And derivative of perhaps the most enduring image of black women from the Jim Crow era postulated during slavery as proof that black women were, in fact, happy slaves...

Beijing, you might have an ultra modern facade, but signs like the one above are seriously retro. And not in a cool, vintage t-shirt kind of way, but in a Klan robe way. You've tried your darnedest to cover up your unsightly blemishes (below). Can't you just put a Nike store or a One World, One Dream wall in front of signs like these?

Beijing beautifies its honest neighborhoods by surrounding them with Stores and Olympic walls as discussed previously in this NYT article and this post.

2008-08-12T22:30:00.000-07:00

Stumbled upon this ice rink while wandering through the underground maze that is 77th Street Market. I thought for a minute that I'd wandered all the back to Coral Ridge Mall in Coralville, Iowa. Phew! This place wasn't exclusively populated by obese, white people, and there wasn't a line out the door for Arby's. Thank god, I was still in Beijing.

2008-08-11T09:15:00.000-07:00

Before Germany's practice today, I overheard an unnamed German player bagging on Nocioni for being a dirtball. Love the guy.

I interviewed Dirk "world's greatest videogame basketball player" Nowitzki after practice and after his post-practice regimen. He shoots 50 three-pointers from all around the horn. Then, he takes 40 mid-range jumpers. Starting at the top of the key, he ball-fakes, takes one dribble and a long stride to the elbow and pops. He takes 20 shots from each elbow, missing only a few. Free throws are next. He has to make 10 in a row before he allows himself to lunge from the baseline to half court. This next drill is ludicrous: He leaps as far as he's able to, taking off and landing using both feet, until he gets to the baseline. It takes him five bounds to cover the 45-foot span, before he screams, "That's too easy!" 20 fingertip push ups later, we begin.

2008-08-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

USA versus China Last night felt more like the Schick Rookie/Sophomore Challenge. What a laugh. Loved LeBron at the 5 spot though.

I heard Angola's most popular female celebrity, Angolina Jolie, plans to attend their funeral against the US tomorrow.

2008-08-11T07:35:00.001-07:00

It's reassuring knowing the Chinese practice safe beach volleyball viewing. Never can be too careful.

2008-08-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

I attended my first Olympic event as a spectator, not an athlete, today. I watched men's beach volleyball play in a light drizzle this morning at Chaoyang Park. First, I cheered Latvia to a loss against Argentina. In the next match, the underdog Angolans, despite a hard fought battle, fell to the Aussies who'll face Zack Barnes and Monroe Clark from Side Out in the gold medal match.

2008-08-11T06:33:00.000-07:00

I interviewed Candace Parker yesterday after watching her and her teammates practice. Talked to her first about growing up in the Chicago burbs and the possibility of Chicago landing the 2016 Olympics. She could not have been sweeter.

In the previous practice, Russian Maria Stepanova stole my heart. The 6'8 blonde glides around the court like a white stallion horse on roller skates. Russian point guard and American ex-pat, Becky Hammon, complimented my Jordan 3’s, which she said she noticed in the stands from the court. Wearing them to practice was a conscious decision on my part, as was sitting with my legs pretzeled over my head.

2008-08-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

Pinny Lane

Life immediately following college graduation is vague. Your bag of tricks isn't really filled with tricks, rather quasi-skills like spreadsheets, Powerpoint, and justifying Wikipedia as a legitimate research source. Questions of what to do or who to become constantly loom. Grads often toil with plunging directly into the workplace versus taking time off to figure it all out. Maybe I’ll teach English in Armenia. But what if you attempted enlistment into desk life and were denied, straight up rejected?

After job offers at thinktanks in DC fell through, Noah Czarney and Aaron Cohen came to Beijing to trade pins. Each armed with political science and government degrees from Brandeis University, along with about 800 pins, they hopped a plane to Beijing. Instead of sitting on a board of directors, they sat on a street corner.

"The job thing didn't really work out the first time around," said Czarney, 21, from Milford, CT. “So, we decided to take up [Cohen's] sister's husband's step dad's offer to send us to Beijing on this pin-trading mission,” he said.

Little did they know, they were about to plunge into an expansive Olympic subculture. Of the 30 or so pin pushers on the corner outside the MPC, Aaron and Noah were the sole rookies. Many pin traffickers' Olympic appearances exceed double digits. This globally diverse group, each with hundreds if not thousands of pins on display, acted like best friends tailgating a football game on Sunday morning.

"It's great because you get to meet all these random people from all over, just trading pins," said Cohen, 22, from Columbus, OH.

Pins representing corporations, media groups, and national delegations are traded, never sold, based on potential value. As pins continue to change hands throughout the games, some become rare and are appraised higher value. A Rwandan Olympic Delegation pin had become highly sought-after this particular morning.

I traded a China Radio International (CRI) pin to a Russian lady for an art deco, 1980 Moscow pin. “And for my special friend from Chicago…” she sounded like Malkovich in Rounders as she pinned a teddy bear, the Moscow Games’ mascot, on the necklace of my credential.

The pin-peddling underworld of the Olympic games epitomizes their spirit, at least, the spirit they were founded upon: People from all over the world gathering to share a mutual passion just for sport. These people aren’t seeking financial gain, or else they would’ve cashed out Ebay and saved themselves the money and the hassle. They seem to genuinely enjoy the festivities, the camaraderie, and of course, the pins. It’s refreshing to see people with hobbies unrelated to the Internet or a joystick. It's just old fashion trading, like the kind I used to do with basketball cards and POGS (all you indoor kids remember Magic Cards, right?) Despite that the items trading hands were born from corporate sponsors as tokens of appreciation and friendship, a sense of purity still lingers around the tradition. The pins represent the Games and the city they took place in. They represent all the people whose credentials they've previously added flare to.

Noah Czarney and Aaron Cohen are sold on it.

“Regardless of the job situation, you’ll see us in winter coats, beanies, and gloves trading in Vancouver,” said Cohen.

2008-08-09T07:04:00.000-07:00

Watched Iran, Croatia, and Greece practice today. Made friends with Iran's Serbian trainer. For those of you Vlade Divac conspirators out there, the rumors are true. According to his one time coach, Srdan Petkovic, Vlade drank a liter of black coffee and a glass of whiskey before each game. And yes, he smoked cigarettes during half time. Petkovic also told me Darko Milicic is certifiably bat shit crazy.

My new favorite player on the planet, Greek center Sofoklis Schortsanitis, now has a giant afro and now looks like a parade float modeled after The Roots drummer ?uestlove.

I got to shoot around after all of the practices finished. Then, I interviewed myself.

I'm at the very peak of my vertical leap in this photo.

...and in this one, too.

2008-08-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

Genuine excitement. You can literally see the pride on the faces of the Chinese. I accused an American woman of soullessness after she scolded her Chinese employee for fleeing from her cashier post to catch a glimpse of the fireworks outside the IBC.

I know I haven't run around this excited since I was a little school girl.

2008-08-08T19:08:00.000-07:00

Bushy's muscle. Bushy's whip.

2008-08-08T09:56:00.000-07:00

Upon further deliberation, the ceremony was no different, if not less impressive than, the 2008 Pan American Macabbi Games in Buenos Aires this past January. Granted, four times more people showed up in Beijing, but the ceremony in Argentina was zestier overall.

2008-08-08T09:08:00.000-07:00

Not usually a fireworks guy, but damn, this display was cracker jacking. Camera ran out of juice just in time, so these pictures aren't berry good.

2008-08-08T00:16:00.000-07:00

08.08.08

I'm high on Olympics and drunk with power.

2008-08-07T23:06:00.000-07:00

Even military vehicles have Olympic spirit. Look closely, you can see the Bird's Nest in the background.

2008-08-07T21:36:00.001-07:00

Tempers flared yesterday at the IBC/MCP security check point when higher ups decided the credential used for weeks to access the Olympic Village was insufficient. Unbeknown to anyone, a sticker on the credential was required. Naturally, reporters and broadcasters trying to get to work were thoroughly displeased at the newly imposed requirement. Michael Lee, Washington Post, missed the US women's basketball press conference. Patrons screamed into their cell phones and at security officers who had no idea how to handle the rowdy crowd. No one possessed the red or green stickers that they didn't know they needed, and no one knew where to obtain one.

Finally, a large group burst through the checkpoint, unable to shirk their professional responsibilities any longer. More security arrived as crowds on both sides of the gate amassed, including camera crews and photogs who'd been hipped to the tumult. The entire time, I'm thinking to myself, this is probably not the group of people you want to subject to nonsensical, last minute changes of plans, the vessels of Olympic representation to the world.

I must not have been the only one thinking that, because as quickly as the camera crews descended on the mob, they began letting folks through. Swarms of people breached the gates voicing their pissed relief with disgruntled finally!'s and thank you!'s.

An event foreshadowing the timbre of the Games? Perhaps. Regardless, I couldn't help my next rumination: a very slow and pronounced oh shit.

2008-08-06T02:55:00.000-07:00

They make him stand there all day, poor Yao.

2008-08-05T21:27:00.000-07:00

Migrant construction workers, many of whom without homes in Beijing, sleep on the street at midnight on Monday as last minute construction winds down outside Olympic venues.

2008-08-05T21:17:00.000-07:00

FM is proud to announce the expansion of of its tactical deployment in Beijing to basketball training. In addition to my highly authoritative role at the International Broadcast Center, I'll cover men's and women's basketball practices, beginning this weekend with the Redeem Team's tuneup before they embarrass China Sunday night. I'll ask the hard-nosed, tough questions. Questions like, "will you sign my breasts?" and "what's your Blackberry PIN?"

2008-08-04T04:59:00.000-07:00

My Uncle Avi recently sent me an article from the New York Times outlining Beijing’s beautification plan in preparation for the Olympics.

To hide neighborhoods leveled for redevelopment in recent years or anything else the government considers unsightly, officials have put up walls.

After reading the article, I began to notice the walls in abundance around the city. In fact, I found the walls attracted more of my attention than an “unsightly” neighborhood. They’re a visual affirmation of how much of the Beijing the government is ashamed of.

Avi informed me this strategy is not new, however.

When the daddy Mayor Daley was embarrassed with the way Chicago looked before the 1968 Democratic Convention he had billboards erected along the Kennedy so no one could see our neighborhoods. Problem was he could not cover up the dilapidated neighborhood around the old stadium where the convention was held.

A large facet of Beijing’s facelift is multinational corporate sponsorship whose giant ads are used to beautify so-called dingy neighborhoods. This achieves two goals. First, new-look Beijing is all done up in time for the games with their eye-soar hoods swept under the rug, providing sponsors even more exposure. And secondly, allows the corporate message to penetrate even deeper into the social hierarchy. Previously insulated from corporate imagery bombardment, people in these neighborhoods are now forced to literally stare it in the face. These neighborhoods managed to abstain from the rampant materialism enveloping Beijing, until now. Now, the disparity between the people who delegate wall building and those who live beyond the walls, is even clearer. Interesting that in both cases, Chicago and Beijing, the cities found ways to make ad money off its disenfranchised hoods; money you can bet your ass won't go towards a Pygmalion-like effort to make them presentable.

2008-08-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

How am I doing, Scalize?

2008-08-01T07:00:00.001-07:00

Jasem (left) and his crew from Qatar here to cover the Games.

2008-07-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

Opening Ceremony

2008-07-31T09:12:00.001-07:00

Get out of my dreams, and onto my Dream Team

2008-07-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

Is this the Beijing you see on TV?

Personally, while watching prior Olympics, I've had no thoughts about the actual people native to the host city and country. You might see a couple human interest stories. One about a volunteer older than the Games themselves and another about the underprivileged family of an Archer. And of course, you get cut shots to famous sites. I'm guessing you'll see the Great Wall, Mao's portrait, and Tienanmen Square frequently.

But you probably won't see the working class and their neighborhoods. These are the people and the neighborhoods that give China its true charm. Yes, China is expanding faster than my waistline in Italy, but there are still people who collect recyclables, pile them on 3-wheeled bikes and ride them to a plant for pay. Yes, the sum of an overpopulated city and ultra-affordable automobiles is a traffic cluster fuck that make LA rush hour seem like the Autobahn. But most real people ride bikes. What's more, they carpool on them.

2008-07-29T10:05:00.000-07:00

Scalize declared the mustache is, "a foreign accessory, indispensable at this point. The stache is in," he said.

2008-07-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

Ping Pong Playa
(Watch the preview)

I’ll concede the humor in naming the main character “Wang,” the easiest Chinese name to joke about. I acknowledged the same cheap laugh in an earlier post.

But I disagree with the assertion that Wang “walks the walk” or “talks the talk.” Not only because a more conventional way to prescribe one’s legitimacy does not exist, but also because his on-screen actions prove it untrue. Emphasized by a prolonged “waazuuuuup,” Wang’s “walk” hasn’t been cool since Monday Night Football in 1999, when that fad began and ended on a Budweiser spot. It is akin to Wang walking to a room and asking, “Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later, baby?” in his best British accent (MTL). What a culture vulture!

His shit-talking is hardly legitimate either, especially given its context: Playing basketball against 12 year-old children. What more convenient outlet for your NBA Jam punch lines than a pickup game against kids half your size? Not to mention when he’s on offense he denies the youngster's attempt to properly defend him. Baller.

What shame his perfect life was inconvenienced by the aftermath of his mother’s auto wreck. The perfection that was sleeping all day on the floor surrounded by garbage, using a beanbag for a pillow and pushing a grotesquely undersized, lawnmower engine-powered crotch-rocket about town, was no longer. Taunting little kids after dominating them in sports was the only remaining facet. That’s what it means to be a Ping Pong Playa, I guess, to annihilate children’s confidence while vacuuming their enjoyment out of sport. (Note: Mickle Jickens had a similar nemesis as young’n running at the Glencoe Community Center. How did he turn out? A musician.)

And for all you Iowans, Hollywood still thinks you’re ignorant pieces of shit, even though you caucused Obama in.

“Because life isn’t the only thing that’s short,” declares the announcer. True, like this movie’s run in theaters, I pray.

2008-07-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

During a tour of the China Daily news building, I noticed an employee had circled this article from that day's edition. In red marker he or she wrote "Why do we publish this crap?"

I'll take a crack at that one, even though I don't work there.

Maybe, because this is some seriously newsy shit. A product of Journalism school, I was taught one of the ways to define newsworthiness was something unusual.
For this author, a displeasing wife was standard. But those were his first three marriages. Now, he's finally found wedded bliss in his current marriage to a 22 year-old blonde, crater-faced, ex- (but will never live it down) cheerleader who microwaves him meat lover's Bagel Bites and fondles his junk while he hacks away on his battle-scarred PC, smearing grease all over the I'm-a-shitty-journalist-and-a-flagrant-misogynist-button, which his penis fingers cannot avoid pressing by mistake.

Whoever would object to the publication of this story is clearly having marital problems and should leave them at home with their displeasing wife to iron out...and wash, and dust, and have sautéed and on the table when they return.

2008-07-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

The view from my office, which I'm always at, late at night.

2008-07-27T10:05:00.000-07:00

"Is it about my cube?"

2008-07-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

In the words of David Cross, "Flaaaaaags!"

2008-07-25T20:58:00.000-07:00

Shirt read: I'm the most important thing in my life. I argued it was the Cold War.

2008-07-25T20:57:00.000-07:00

During an IBC banquet, this fellow decided to bring along some light reading. THE BIBLE.

2008-07-25T20:56:00.000-07:00

eeeeeeeeeeeeee! My new friend.

2008-07-23T08:56:00.000-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, Freddy Couples.

No static at all.

2008-07-21T01:13:00.000-07:00

It’s a generic hotel lobby. Clouds of maroon, burnt sienna, orange, and beige form a flowery carpet. Textured beige wallpaper covers the walls, its pinstripes tuck perfectly into the fake, brown marble baseboards. Whoever designed this lobby was certainly not earth tone-deaf. Depressing art in a rustic, made-to-look-old, gold frame hangs on the wall, spotlit by a rectangular chandelier (Think Mission Hills Ballroom for those of you who can) that's too bright. Underneath the drab painting is a desk, made to look Chinese by its asymmetrical, interconnecting right angles. That seems to be the rule with foe Chinese stuff: take a normal piece of furniture and superimpose the map of the last level of Pac-Man onto it to make it look Chinese.

Beyond the lobby’s giant wooden doors, a press conference takes place. I’m seated in the second row, chosen to be there by Chen Ying, the project manager in the communications division of the Beijing Olympic volunteer department. Mr. Ying is a headhunter for foreign media. It’s his job to place sources in the hands of foreign media to enhance stories. Therefore, it would only make sense that when the volunteer ministers of the Beijing Organizing Committee (BOCOG) give a press conference, Mr. Ying finds American volunteers like myself to feed to the sharks.

I finish my second cup of cigar-flavored coffee before microphones and cameras bombard me, as well as questions in Chinglish.

They ask me how I like Beijing, why I wanted to become a volunteer, what my experience has been like thus far, etc. I think to myself, Does this shit really pass as journalism here? I guess so, because the next day my colleagues tell me they've seen my on the news. They said they laughed when I told the reporter my favorite part about Beijing was ordering dishes for my entire family at dinner, even though I was dining alone. They also liked when commenting on my living conditions I said I kept it so cold in my room that when I sneeze it snows.

2008-07-21T01:11:00.000-07:00

2008-07-20T00:44:00.000-07:00

Scalize. Solid gold.

2008-07-18T05:04:00.000-07:00

2008-07-17T01:12:00.000-07:00

A new low: Listening to the audio coverage of The Open Championship as the video won't work.

2008-07-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

You know Fredrick, I'd abhor informing the boss you're neither donning your cap nor hanging your surgical face mask from your ear while we consume these decadent hard-boiled egg bento boxes in this miscellaneous factory we work in."

"No, please Enrique! I'll do anything. The boss certainly will fire me and I'll haven't the money to pay for Junior's therapy through the arts."

"Alright, fine then. Put on your hat, bow before me, and eat that entire crack rock kabob over there. Then, and only then, will I conceal such an intolerable blunder."

"I will comply, but first, what are crack rocks?"

"Crack rocks get ole' Enrique quadruple hard-boiled at lunchtime, Freddyboyee! I'm in the money..."

2008-07-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

Every 35 seconds, millions of custodians, pack rats, and subletters die from spontaneous storeroom fires. The more you know...

2008-07-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

Apparently, whoever put up this sign thinks Jumanji is non-fiction.

2008-07-16T09:33:00.000-07:00

In Patton Oswald's stand-up, Werewolves and Lollipops, a conversation with George Lucas about the newest Star Wars Trilogy leads Patton to conclude, "I don't give a shit about where the stuff I love comes from, I just love the stuff I love." He further delineates his point using Angelina Jolie, the byproduct of Jon Voight's ballsack.

While I don't usually condone such a willful lack of curiosity, I agreed with him wholly when The Beijing Organizing Committee (BOCOG) took its volunteers to the Gaobeidian Waste Water Treatment Plant, as the very first stop on day one of their three day tour.

Welcome to Beijing, wanna see how we make the water that no one can drink?

Nope, no I don't. Not at all.

My, how time flies when you're ogling sewage. Next stop (literally), lunch.

Up shit's creek.

2008-07-15T00:48:00.001-07:00

Thanks for the song and dance, barkeep, but I ordered a beer.

2008-07-15T00:13:00.000-07:00

Most Improved Player Award

Snarles Barkley

My face mirrors my sentiment towards these blue bloods.

2008-07-15T00:09:00.000-07:00

Beijing opera. More like Beijing slumber party.

2008-07-13T22:40:00.000-07:00

Awk.

"Whatup Playboyee?"

2008-07-13T22:20:00.000-07:00

The story behind Sophie and her friend, Becca (not pictured):
Nick and I ate ourselves into a dumpling coma at Din Tai Fung post China Doll, while Jack appletini'd himself into a complete stupor. With juicy-pork-and-shrimp-impared judgement, we made a reservation for hibachi and Tairyo Beijing (160 Kuai, all you can eat and drink). Nick, whose phone was conveniently out of credit, slept through our reservation. And, after all attempts of communication through Jack to get to Nick failed, I decided to sit down by myself (Proving how much I love things cooked on my table, that I was willing to sit by myself with strangers at a restaurant whose tables seat parties of no fewer than 12. Clearly, a format not invented for the solo diner). Seated by myself across the table from several Chinese men finishing their meals, I ordered the first three pages of the menu and settled into warm sake.

Then, like arch angels of blessed light from heaven, come Becca (Scottish) and Sophie (British). It was as if the Hibachi gods were rewarding me for bravery. I explained to them my passion for the cuisine and the format and about my narcoleptic friends, to which one replied, "You have new friends now."

And to be fair, Nick did eventually show up. He was two hours late.

Awwwww, come on!

2008-07-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

2008-07-13T22:18:00.000-07:00

"Yeah, Okay."

2008-07-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

I love Kobe. And a hearty thanks to my Walgreen's employee friend who took the train all the way from Kenosha to NYC to buy me a T-shirt reaffirming said love.

2008-07-13T22:06:00.000-07:00

My second favorite bar in Beijing next to WTF is Your P-blem?

2008-07-09T23:07:00.000-07:00

Bassman's big adventure wherein he decided that, "come here often?" was the best conversation starter with anyone, in any location. Often before the subject could even reply, and regardless of their gender, he immediately followed up with, "So, you wanna dance?"

2008-07-09T22:28:00.000-07:00

Don't you dare miss the party event of the universe, the Overmaster You, Tempt Me! party. If you're like me, you're fed up with being undermastered and cannot wait to get your overmaster on. If you don't own appropriate overmastering attire, worry not. The hosts will provide sexy interpretations of uniforms worn by public servants, airline employees, and custodians (all of whom, apparently, are French).

There's nothing I find sexier than a woman working a remedial job wearing a uniform. When I walk up to the check-in counter at the airport, I ask two questions: "Are there any bulkhead seats available?" and "Will you overmaster me, you filthy harlot, you?"

2008-07-09T08:49:00.001-07:00

Fear Monger is proud to announce the opening of our New York bureau - a multi-thousand dollar, one-bedroom apartment overlooking Manhattan on the banks of the fragrant and sensibly-named East River. Our new international operation will hopefully stimulate conversation, provoke self-examination (both emotional and testicular) and will almost inevitably invite serious scrutiny from global human rights watchdog groups.

My name is Mickle Jickens. I was formerly apprentice to the legendary Chef Bert at his restaurant Da Bert in Bosa, Sardinia. I met Barry Lird one glorious day last spring while he was on holiday, and came in to dine at the restaurant. Despite having no formal education, no knowledge of English, no real knowledge of any other language, severely retarded motor skills and a bleeding eye, something I did that day impressed Barry. The next thing I knew I was at Barry's compound, Barrytown, aka Lird World.

After over a year of being what most people would call "held hostage," and having undergone countless, humiliating hours of what Barry refers to as "training," here I am. Ready to contribute everything I have to the cause at hand: Mongering Fear.