Tales From The Dark Side

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Sun, 31 Aug 2008 17:48:00 +0000

One of the things I like about myself (and I have in common with my friends) is that if we aren't enjoying an experience, we are out. Doesn't matter where, or with whom, or how inebriated we happen to be - we are just gone. When great conversation turns dull, or when the hottie we wanted just left, sometimes it's time to just get the hell out - no matter what the guests left behind think.

It's rarely an impulse decision, but based on a through understanding of the best and worst case scenario. And when the worst case is bad and very likely, and the best case is not much better - then it is time to go.

I was out with a new group of Arabic and Hispanic folks the other night, and I was invited out by a girl who I never met face to face (it's a long story). It was a bit awkward, given I only knew two people (who didn't know anyone else), but I can handle awkward. Anyway, one of the girls there was this Columbian knockout - who looked like the final product back from when God took itemized orders from horny guys when he was making women. Great skin, hot face, sultry accent, huge tits, everything you want. Aside from the minor stretch marks indicating that she spent a hell of a lot of time in the gym to look the way she did - she was pretty much hotter than any girl I could reasonably expect to pick up at Twisted Taco or anywhere else0 in Midtown Atlanta. So after my friends left, I stuck around.

The conversation got a little insane... the Colombian turned out to be married to the guy next to her (although she wore no wedding ring, or had a visible shadow on her ring finger), and also turned out to be a stripper. Suddenly her admission that she had a thing for black guys, and the constant touching of my hands and my knees lost all material signficance. Another woman at the table was a tall white girl with huge tits and turned out to be a former stripper. She spoke with an air of a life fully lived, but with plenty of bruises inside and out from when life decided to kick her ass for a while. She steered the conversation at the table towards ideas that she picked up during her prize fight with life, with the expectation that those ideas count as wisdom. The biggest (and funniest) thing to come out was the magic formula to take home a girl from a bar (it involves a specific number of shots and lies), as well as why you should avoid complementing a girl on her period.

After the cigarette smoke that hung in the humid Atlanta air started giving me a headache, it was time to go. Especially since the Columbian started in on the speeches she gives to her marks in strip clubs about how she will never fuck them, yet they still pay her thousands just to talk. She even emphasized that she was treating me like the mark, only I didn't have to pay. Since I don't make a habit of seducing married women, especially when their husbands are sitting next to them; I didn't feel the need to break her down.

Some people feel the need to take on all comers when they are slighted. When it happens to me, I always do a quick reality check. A) Best/worse case scenario; B) Is it worth it. When a jackass tried to steal my parking spot on my first date with a hot girl, dammit I made it clear I will get out of the car and kick some ass. I got the space, and got the girl. I tend to never back down in bars, because too many guys are wanting to prove themselves, and too many drunk girls take stock in that kinda shit. At a table with no single women or guys I know, I am not gonna take down some girl if the best case scenario is having her sneak around her husband's back. It just isn't worth it.

I hope this made some sense.

Life Doesn't Just Happen

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 14:04:00 +0000

I have trouble dealing with people who go through life like they are driving a car without their hands on the wheel. Sure, you can speed up, slow down, and if the wheels are perfectly aligned - you are gonna mostly go in a straight line. But as soon as you hit a bump, until you grab the wheel you are careening towards disaster. The worst is when people think that since the bump wasn't their fault (it wasn't), that they are no longer responsible for what happens next (though they are).

The most vivid illustration of this is a story from High School. I was a junior taking lots of honors courses, and one day I come down with the chicken pox. Yes, I had the chicken pox in High School. One nasty little fact I learned about that disease is that the boils and symptoms are worse the older you get - so having it as 16 was pure hell. Boils and crusty pusey bumps literally covered me from head to toe. The itching sensation was so strong, in response my body developed a baseline of discomfort and ignored only the worse bouts of painful itching as just heat. My mom even resorted to clipping my nails and covering my hands with socks so I wouldn't scratch off the scabs and leave permanent scars. Up to that day, my skin was flawless.

After about a week, my Dad would come home with file folders filled with homework, including an assignment to write a one-act play. I protested, complaining of everything I mentioned above and more, and argued that I shouldn't have to bother until I got better. Dad simply pointed out that if I waited, it would take forever to catch up. It would be awful now, but I would be a lot happier if I returned to school healthy without having a ton of work waiting for me. And he was right.

The auto insurance commercials are right, "life comes at you fast." This summer I had two major customer presentations to develop in Powerpoint and present - even though my laptop with all my work was stolen the week before. While I thankfully have a Blackberry and a generously large email file quota to save me, simply cancelling the meetings was out of the question. Even though things may go to hell in handbasket, lines like "Get it done" or "just do it" aren't just sloganeering, it is a mindset that works through bad luck.

I am not a fan of people who refuse to be solution oriented - or who simply give up at the first roadblock they come across. It's one thing to avoid the wrong path, it's quite another to want something and give up just because it didn't come easy.

Coletrain.org: Rated M for Mature

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 21:18:00 +0000

Well, there seems to be a lot of high schoolers on my Facebook these days. And, to their credit, their parents have access to their children's profiles. Surprisingly enough, I have a good reputation in some circles and I plan to keep it that way.

So, I am no longer pushing Tales From the Dark Side to my Facebook profile and to your newsfeeds.

If you are interested in following the goings on of Coletrain, the Nati, Miss Daisy, and the missing MadAngler - you are going to just have to visit http://www.coletrain.org/blog.html . Or if you have RSS (inc. Google Reader and My Yahoo!) - then plug in http://feeds.feedburner.com/SoDoYouKnowMattCole .

Accept this incovenience, I ain't sorry.

Summer is almost overah... Thank God!

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 03:12:00 +0000

Well, I don't know about you - but this summer royally sucked wind. No brahsome foreign vacations with hot chicks with accents, no tense fencing at Summer Nationals, no Summer of George with 100% less employment and 100% more drinking, no giant fraternity conferences and the attending parties after dark. Just work, sleep, more work, and lots of "holy crap for crap" I need to hit the gym moments. Which also explains why you haven't seen a whole lot of very cool blog posts from me. Hell, here is a recap of the last six summers.

Summer 2002 - Ibiza, Spain

Summer 2003 - Dallas, TX

Summer 2004 - Minneapolis, MN

Summer 2005 - Myvatn, Iceland

Summer 2005 - New Orleans, LA

Summer 2006 - Atlanta, GA

Summer 2007 - Deadspin at Turner Field - Atlanta, GA

This summer (not me pictured, but representative)

Not to say the summer has been uneventful - Atlanta nightlife and party scene always offers something - but nothing too insane this time around. The biggest news this month for me is the discovery of a hip scene called Bricktown in Oklahoma City. Exciting! It even features a bar and grill owned by Toby Keith! But other than that, pretty much routine.

This is also not to say that I don't appreciate being a critical member of my team at work who finds it difficult to take even a single day of uninterrupted vacation. I get it, it is part of the life - a life I want to enjoy (the money helps too). And while I lived it up during the Summer of George (see link and above), the piper came calling that next winter and spring.

Still, I miss the days of half day Fridays where I could lay out by the pool at 2pm, or had the leisure time to work out three times a day during the week. These days, organization, self discipline, sacrifice, and the Blackberry rule the day. At least I am getting paid for it.

Better still, fall brings SEC football and the glory of the NFL, free booze parties, and patio events with women in sexy sundresses and weather that doesn't leave me dripping after five minutes. Autumn rules!

Killing My Tastebuds

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 19:32:00 +0000

Good taste is a delicate thing. The ability to taste the subtle notes in a 10 year old merlot, the interplay of cayenne and coconut in good Thai, or enjoy the homemade greens just like Mom used to make is a special thing.

Sometimes I wonder if I lost my sense of taste. I was at Dixie Tavern with friends last Thursday, and ordered the extra hot wings. Everyone warned me they were heavy duty, but I ignored them. The wings tasted mildy spicy to me, but not at all. Then I accidently touched my eye, and had visions of the drive-by pepperspraying I got in downtown Reykjavik. The intense itching, the sweating, the feeling of capsaicin and salty tears burning its way down my face. Thankfully, the eyes also lose their sensitivity to hot spices over time.

Even though the burning has subsided, it makes me wonder - is it really true you can have too much of a good thing? Would years of traffic cause the yellow brick road to lose its lustre? What a pity if it were possible to pan a well cooked filet or quality Beluga caviar because you've had it so many times before.

It Had To Happen Sometime

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 05:00:00 +0000

Everybody has dating dealbreakers. Even me. Rules that are in place to stop you from dealing with someone who has problems that you don't need to absorb. No matter how hot he/she is, these rules are immutable and are for your own protection.

There are the obvious ones... must look good, must have job, disease free, must not be nor ever have been a prostitute, must not be into anything overly weird like sounding or pegging, must not be uber duber super freak, etc.

But as a black man who dates all races, I never thought about adding this one: "must not be direct descendant of slave owners." I suppose it was only a matter of time given that I live and socialize in the South. Still, when I was looking over a magazine with a white woman I was out with and she pointed out a local as someone whose ancestor her family may have owned - I was kinda blindsided. It was the emotional equivalent of a major injury - the nerves deactivate themselves allowing you to get to help only to bring the pain once you are under care.

How do you process something like that? How do you bring it up again? Why, as a slave owner descendant, would you bring it up if you aren't proud of it? Even Strom Thurmond preferred to forget that he shares that sinister connection to Rev. Al Sharpton. It begs a lot of uncomfortable questions that have even less digestible answers.

Yikes.

I DON'T SEE NOTHING WRONG!!!! R KELLY ACQUITTED!

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 19:24:00 +0000

From Yahoo! News...

5 minutes ago

CHICAGO - A Chicago jury has acquitted R. Kelly on all counts at his child pornography trial.

Absolutely fantastic... FEEL IT for the R! I am dancing in my office right now... doing the love slide...

"My mind is telling me no, but my BODY, MY BODY IS TELLING ME YESS..." My body has a good lawyer, I must CON FESESSESSSSS, to you.

Catching Up

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 19:21:00 +0000

Summer has been poppin' here in the ATL, so I haven't been around long enough to write anything. Here is a quick recap...

With beer festivals and wine tastings every week, it is a real wonder that the whole town is not filled with alcoholics. It is even a bigger wonder that the government bothers with Blue Laws in the first place. Everyone already knows to stock up.
Chick volleyball players are tall. I mean real tall. I hung out with four of them during Atlanta's AVP weekend, and I felt like I was in downtown Chicago on a clear day. Lots of pretty things to see, but at some point you'll get tired of craning your neck. Having pretty girls rub my bald head is one thing, but it was weird she reached down to do it.
A flowing lowcut sundress is the hottest thing an attractive girl can wear besides a bikini or nothing at all. Virginia Highland's Summerfest had sundressed girls out in force last weekend.
I met a girl who plays on the offensive line for Atlanta's all-female tackle football team. She's kinda cute and not built like a freight train, but I still felt weird. So after discussing the play mix they run, I asked about the cheerleaders.

More to come...

An Oldie But A Goodie

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 27 May 2008 18:03:00 +0000

I wrote this after having one of the most uncomfortable conversations in my entire life. I was checking my email in a hotel room during a fraternity conference, and a bunch of guys and one girl (all white) stopped by looking for alcohol (we had none).

Anyway, one of the guys asked me if I was looking at porn. From what I remember, I was not - just checking the email. Strangely, the conversation turned to specific types of porn, and one of the guys started singing the praises of interracial porn. This guy started talking in detail about how he loved watching big black guys rail these little white girls, and other guys just jumped in in agreement. I felt like just walking out - except of course, it was my room. I looked at the girl (someone's girlfriend), and she looked at me with a strange look I was not willing to decipher. Eventually, my roommate kicked everyone out, and I penned the story below.

It's relatively funny, completely offensive and Rated R.
--------------------------------
I'm Your One Black Friend!

What’s up dogg? Ha, just kidding man. Thank God it’s Friday. How’s the job? Mine is boring too, until I see Sheila from accounting with her fine white ass and big white titties. Come on man, you guys have monopolized the Vanilla Sky for too long. Is the game on? No, I meant the hockey game. Dumbass.

Still looking for a girlfriend? No wonder, you look like a chump. A plaid shirt and hunting boots make you look like a serial killa, not a tru playa. Let me change your wardrobe. Let’s get you some looser fitting slacks and an ungodly loud shirt, and accessorize with a chain and a nice watch. Now you won’t be able to keep the women off you.

Now that you are looking fly, let's go out to the dance club!. Awesome, we're just in time for the blackout! Let’s go on the dance floor. What, you can’t dance? Come on, go out there… give it a shot! Ok, ok, wow, lets go back… what were you doing out there? You looked like an albino flamingo having a seizure. No wonder you can’t get any women. Rather than dance, just kinda nod your head to the beat, like its good music, but you are too cool to be bothered. Then when a girl wants to dance, you just kinda let her do her thing in front of you – you play your cards right, all you gotta do is grab her hips every now and again when she grinds on you. How do I know all this? What black guy doesn’t know all this?

No, you can’t say the N-word, I don’t care how cool it is. Even if it is in a rap song. Well, just once. Yeah, you’re my nigga too. Don’t worry, if anyone says anything, just tell them your one black friend said its ok.

While you are at the bar, why don’t you get me a Hypnotiq and Hennessy. Get yourself one too. Yes, it looks and tastes like a blend of antifreeze and motor oil, but Juvenile likes it so it must be good. At least it tastes better than that 40oz Colt 45 you gave me before we left your place. Nobody who has money drinks that shit.

Look’s like you are doing better out there, I hope you get that brunette’s phone number you were grinding on. Where’s the blonde? She just went to the bathroom… she is really digging me man, and if I am lucky, I will be digging her too. She’s totally coo-coo for cocoa puffs. It’s all your fault anyway. You white people worked so hard to keep your sisters and daughters away from black men for so long, the whole white female sex is just overcome by curiosity. Do you think Seal got Heidi Klum because of his rugged good looks? Haha, don’t worry… you white boys still have the Asian strange sewed up. Ok, this is not the proper context to use the N-word.

Hey, thanks for giving me and Sarah a ride to my place. Yeah, I’m sorry you had to see that in your rearview mirror – but you said earlier you liked downloading interracial porn off the internet, so I figured it was ok. I am sure those love stains will come right off the leather with a little soap and water. At least now you have something to talk about in your diversity training class on Monday.

It was good hanging out with you, see you next year!

Why You Should Stop Whining About Big Oil

noreply@blogger.com (Nati) — Thu, 22 May 2008 17:42:00 +0000

It's easy to blame high gas prices on the evil oil companies. But after enduring a dramatic upturn in the bitching and moaning market from politicians, the media, and people on the street, I would like to present to you the actual facts, and let you decide the truth:

http://www.energy.ca.gov/gasoline/margins/index.html
This is California government's assessment of what goes into the price of a gallon of gas. Currently, 25 cents per gallon goes to the costs of refining, distributing, and marketing, and big oil profits. Yes, these "windfall" profits are less than 25 cents per gallon, after you take out what it costs oil companies to maintain refineries, transport goods, and sell their product. This total has in fact gone down, from about 50 cents two months ago. Total taxes amount to about 66 cents, and the bulk of the price per gallon is due to the market price of crude oil (primarily determined by OPEC). So for all the complaining politicians do, they are taking a bigger cut of your money than oil companies are.

http://cbs2chicago.com/politics/gas.prices.taxes.2.729939.html
While 66 cents per gallon represents the average tax total in California, in my city of Chicago, taxes make up 20% of the total cost, up to 80 cents. The upturn in gas prices is actually a boon to the governor of Illinois, because it means he can take more of my money to buy off his bookie and mob contacts. This article includes a classy quote from Dick Durbin, the second biggest pussy from Illinois in the U.S. Senate, asking oil company execs, "Does it trouble any of you when you see what you're doing to us?", despite knowing full well that the feds and the government of his own state make more money on gas than oil companies do.

http://auto.howstuffworks.com/gas-price.htm
An easy-to-read and non-politically-motivated primer on how gas prices are determined. A must-read if you think you have any right to complain about how much you're paying for gas.

So how can gas prices be reduced? We can take away oil company profits, which will probably save you a few cents per gallon, and in return destroy any chance of future innovation in the development and delivery of new fuel. We can take away gas taxes, saving you up to 80 cents per gallon (although probably less, since tax cuts will be shared between the consumer and the producer). We can negotiate with OPEC to increase supply, which has never worked. We can open up new avenues of supply, like ANWR, once we get over our fear of forcing a few dozen caribou to move to Canada. Or you can stop driving by yourself 100 miles a day to and from work, you suburbanite whore. The choice is up to you.

Defending Hotlanta

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Mon, 19 May 2008 13:10:00 +0000

Nati, I must admit I grimaced a little when I saw your Obama=Curious George post last week. It made me wonder about Atlanta, and if it was still wise for me to get drunk there and hit on women in front of the rednecks.

That is until I saw one such redneck looking guy wearing a shirt bearing this image (actually a color version on white) at the Dunwoody Beer Festival last Saturday.

Although technically "A Pimp Named Slickback" from The Boondocks overturned the bros b4 hoes rule, it was still funny. And shows that racist and sexist humour can be good natured.

Obama and the End of Humor

noreply@blogger.com (Nati) — Tue, 13 May 2008 18:23:00 +0000

A bar owner not far from Coletrain's Atlanta headquarters is selling T-shirts that compare Barack Obama to Curious George. Understandably, this has caught the eye of the national media, who view this as a harbinger of the sort of racist undertones that will color the anti-Obama campaign this year. Considering that the seller also put the message "I wish Hillary had married OJ" on a big sign in front of his bar, I'm inclined to agree. But at the same time, I think it's important to wonder how an Obama presidency will affect the course of free speech in this country.

The T-shirt seller claimed he made the comparison only because they look similar, not for racist reasons. Well, you be the judge:

Why is it so important to not be offended by this? Because of this:

...which happens to be my favorite of a few dozen photos on bushorchimp.com. You can find a million examples of this exact type of comparison in the media and on all of the internets. Yes, George Bush looks like a chimp. Yes, Barack Obama looks like a monkey. Why is there a difference in the public reaction? When you realize the answer, you will see the danger it poses to all comedians and humorists who make their livelihood insulting politicians.

If Obama becomes president, there will be a huge gray area that people will not be able to cross because of fear of the "racist" label. Will black people even be able to call him "President Ni**a," like I desperately hope they will? Bust-a-cap-in-Chief? President of the United States of Punk Muthafuckaz? I just don't know.

It's certainly a step forward for our society when a black man can look down on small-town white America. But making fun of my president's appearance is a fundamental right I'm not ready to secede. Oops, I meant "cede." Damn!

Cars and Women

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Mon, 12 May 2008 19:23:00 +0000

I never liked owning a car. Insurance, loans, maintenance, GAS; it's all just a pain in the ass. Thankfully, my current line of work allows me to never need to own one.

In fact, I've only owned a car at any time for about two years, and that was just not fun. Because watching money that normally went to savings and booze go to loan payments and gas is just a quick route to depression.

And speaking of depression, every car I have ever driven reminded me of a girl. Its body styling, its road performance, its sound system all reminded me of something - to paraphrase R. Kelly. Yes, I gave every long term rental and company car I have ever possessed a girl's name.

Speaking of R. Kelly, his trial's jury selection starts today. I am not saying the R is innocent, but I am a big proponent of jury nullification. I mean, Ignition is a fantastic song (not the remix, which is only just awesome) and I would like to pretend that it was the inspiration for the Lock and Key dating parties. Surely that is worth a mulligan.

Being in the driver's seat puts you in a certain mood. Some cars are empowering, others are emasculating. I remember the first time my boss from my construction job asked me to drive his hulking F-350. It was so big and huge, at first I felt powerful, then I felt like I was being felt up by a bull dyke. It was a mixed bag.

Then there is the car I have now. In previous jobs, the difference in status between a midsize sedan and a midsize SUV was huge - the difference between being the tallest midget and someone worthy of any respect at all. Every time I get into this domestic vehicle with a generic color and no options I can't help but feel like I've graduated to the next level.

None of them made me feel like Britney. Britney was a brand new 2002 Pontiac Grand AM GT, candy painted cherry red with ninja blades for wheels. Sure it had cloth seats and the body was more plastic than metal, but it looked fantastic and felt great to drive. She was just like her namesake, Britney Spears... circa 2001; looks good, a great ride, but still cheap.

Britney and I had a lot of fun bouncing between Indianapolis, St. Louis, and all parts in between. One of my female friends sent a picture of herself to her former students in Brazil - the kids wrote back asking who was her friend that owned the Italian sports car.

But alas, I had to give up the car when I moved to Minneapolis. And after a brief affair with an early model Grand Prix, I met Brit-Brit's sister Briana. Briana was a 2003 Grand AM GT. Briana was as hot as her sister, but more rough and tumble. She fell victim to the two feet of snow covering roads in to Vermillion, SD one winter. And one New Year's Eve some jackass busted off the rear view mirror at a party at the University of Minnesota.

In spite of that, Briana was never jealous. I remember one night at the U of MN, I drove up to a fraternity house and a cute brunette drinking from a strangely familiar bottle shouted to me from the porch, "Hey, what are you driving?"

I said, "A Pontiac Grand AM GT."

"GT, you just HAD to add the GT on?

"Look at it baby, its 2/3 the way to a GTO!!"

She smiled, I walked up, and noticed she was drinking Goldschlager with no chaser. Things got interesting after that.

After Briana, the cars I drove started taking on characteristics of women I know, and know very well - even ones who read this blog. There is the silver Impala that I currently own, who is reliable in spite of the fact that I have had to have her dragged out of flooded streets and I don't trust her dashboard lights. Then there is the Nissan Altima that was a sneaky sexy car that reminded me of a girl just out of reach. And of course the Chevy Equinox who I stumbled upon and makes me feel lucky to drive for no reason at all...

American Idol: A Lesson in Civics

noreply@blogger.com (Nati) — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 06:19:00 +0000

I have been criticized for my dedication to that pageant of excess called American Idol. But for anyone interested in the ongoing election "crisis" striking the Democratic Party, a close watch of the final episodes of AI would be vitally educational.

So two really popular and talented singers, Irish biker chick and pre-autoerotic asphyxiation Michael Hutchence, have recently been booted before their time, while two singers who shouldn't have been there in the first place, Bob Marley with vitiligo and Carly Simon without the personality, continue on. Is this just bad luck? Or is it because Americans don't know talent? Well yes, it's because Americans don't know talent, but there's a much deeper meaning here. AI is a case study of shifting demographics, and a template for why democracy sometimes succeeds and sometimes fails miserably. Bear with me on this. Here are your competing demographics:

1. Teenage girls: Easily the largest and moodiest of the factions, a group that has single-handedly ruined the course of music history on several occasions. Show me a 30-year-old woman who denies having had coital contractions at the sound of "Hangin' Tough," and I'll show you a liar. This group goes heavy for pretty boys, singing either poppy love songs or boilerplate emo schlock. Originally a David Archuleta keystone, their defection to emo David Cook has signaled his meteoric rise in the ratings.

2. Disney girls: Simon once remarked that Archuleta sounded like he was performing at a theme-park show, complete with animatronic puppets. We know who this constituency belongs to.

3. Indies: You know those people who blare Indigo Girls music out their dorm rooms and tell you their favorite band is some random and ironic 3-word phrase? Well, these people watch American Idol, and they like the tool with the dreadlocks. When he faces his inevitable elimination, they will likely move to David Cook.

4. Soul/gospel fans: Let's face it, Syesha has benefited from being the only black singer in the competition, saving her from elimination time and again. But she doesn't really have much appeal otherwise, and when she's gone her voters will likely move to David Archuleta.

5. Middle-aged gays: Last week's show was Andrew Lloyd Webber. Need I say more? These are the guys who live in my neighborhood walking around with bleach-tipped hair and leathery, fake-tanned faces. You're not fooling anyone, you hear!? A real wildcard since David Hernandez left the show to rejoin his co-workers at Dick's Cabaret, but I think they appreciate Brooke White's 70s style, which reminds them of their youth. They may very well split their vote between the Davids in the last episode.

6. Country fans: This is why Kristy Lee Cook lasted so long despite being so mediocre. See, it's starting to make sense now, huh? I think they're going to fall to David Archuleta, since he's so vapidly wholesome.

So my prediction? Even though David Cook has the lead now, I think Archuleta will gradually accumulate more voters from the defeated contestants and pull off an upset, and spend his short career contributing single after single to the Disney Radio Network until he turns 21 and stops being cute. Cook will join the ranks of other finalists (Chris Daughtry and Blake Lewis) who were more original than the eventual winner, but eventually go on to greater success.

There you go, the top 6 constituencies. Nothing that Carly Smithson or Michael Johns could hold onto, and thus their premature departures. Likewise, imagine the Democratic primary season, pitting Hillary's bitter small-town voters against Obama's latte-drinking douchebags, and you'll see why this exercise was so important. Have I thought about this too much? Do I feel like a loser writing this at 2AM on a Monday night? Well...yes. I'm going to bed.

Congrats Danica!

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 21:41:00 +0000

Congratulations to Danica Patrick on her first Indy win! Sure it took 50 tries, and she was forced to weight down her car to compensate for her weight advantage - but now people can finally stop giving her the business.

Personally, I don't mind women drivers, especially when they drive me. I get to sleep more and drink more with not a care in the world.

Apparently Japanese men like female drivers too.

Happy Monday people!

Dodgeball: A Lesson in Life

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 16:51:00 +0000

These days I am pretty well even keeled. I've watched my hand shoot blood all over my kitchen without uttering a sound. I spend my evenings fending off epee fencers of varying skill without losing my cool.

But as I stepped onto a dodgeball court after nearly 20 years, for the first time in a long time, I was nervous. Really nervous. Beyond first date nervous. Beyond courtroom nervous. Beyond getting caught by the police after leaving a rowdy bar nervous.

Part of it was the fact that I was hungover and we didn't have enough players to have subs. The main reason for my temperment was that I was afraid that I was going to suck at this. I'm not great at basketball, though I get better with regular practice. I am not good at softball, but I hate playing that anyway. No one is allowed to be bad at dodgeball and avoid getting grief.

That first game lasted about 30 short seconds. We didn't have a plan, only a set of disjointed ideas and silly tactics that we didn't even have time to execute.

It wasn't that we weren't athletic - we were all rated fencers who played other sports and half were still in high school - we were just woefully unprepared. We were used to dodging and parrying epees, the second fastest moving objects in sport (next to the rifleman's bullet). It is a different mindset to duck and dodge an object that actually does move slower and less purposeful than a wrench or afternoon weekend traffic.

Dodgeball is a game in which cooler heads prevail. We saw a team of strong athletic men launch six dodgeballs in unison at a single man standing in the back corner of the court. They all missed. They tried again, and only two of six balls hit the guy, whose foot was caught in the netting seperating the courts. One of our teammates, who was the last remaining player on the court, with coaching systematically eliminated four players on the other side. In one game, we were up three players to two with 15 seconds remaining, and one of ours insisted on throwing his ball only to have it caught and forcing us to go for the outright win.

It was a blast though. Hot girls were everywhere, and we nearly got into a fight with some jackass who couldn't leave his frustrations on the court. We did ok in the end, but the teams that did really well were just relaxed on the court.

There is a lesson here. It's too bad the PC-nazis don't let kids play dodgeball in school anymore.

Is A Simpler Tax a Better Tax?

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 15:41:00 +0000

John McCain, in his traditionally maverick role, used to be against tax cuts. Of course, that was before he got the memo that Republican nominees have to be against taxes all the time - at least until they get elected.

Today the AP reports that McCain actually has a decent idea - a federal gas tax holiday during the summer months. According to the article, the current gasoline tax is 18.4 cents for gasoline and 24.4 cents for diesel. With gasoline prices at nearly $3.48/gallon nationwide it's not much relief, but it could be if the states follow suit. If we pull out of Iraq and reduce the amount of oil the US Military is buying on the open market - then we might have something.

The AP article also mentioned a McCain proposal to give taxpayers an easier option to pay and file with a standard deduction. This idea I think is kinda stupid. The problem with taxes is that they are a) too high, and b) are wasted, prompting high taxes. It wouldn't take much convincing to gather acceptance for the option of more forms in return for lower taxes and/or higher refunds. Plus market solutions like CPAs, tax software, and tax prep offices take the burden of filing complicated forms off the tax payer for a small fee.

If McCain wants to help poor people, the gas tax holiday is a good start, but getting us out of Iraq and forgetting about ethanol would actually get the economy moving.

Bill Cosby - My New Hero, Again

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:18:00 +0000

Bill Cosby hasn't stopped preaching about pound cake. He has taken the message of personal responsiblity and cultural advancement to black communities across the nation. The Atlantic has a great article talking about his message. (h/t/t The American Conservative Blog)

However there are some detractors.

The strain of black conservatism that Cosby evokes has also surfaced in the presidential campaign of Barack Obama. Early on, some commentators speculated that Obama’s Cosby-esque appeals to personal responsibility would cost him black votes. But if his admonishments for black kids to turn off the PlayStation and for black fathers to do their jobs did him any damage, it was not reflected at the polls.

Just so you know, I can't stand some commentators.

Not Getting Got in NYC

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 08:06:00 +0000

There are few places in the US where you see foot traffic like in New York. That was the one amazing observation I made this weekend. In MidtownAtlanta, if I see a few hundred people walk by me in the middle of the day - chances are I will know at least three of them. In NYC, no dice.

Right now I am here visiting my friend in from Dubai, my friend from college, and two great folks from my old High School. It's nice to know I can walk into one of the greatest cities in the country - and not be a stranger.

Friday was mostly hanging out with friends, and enjoying overpriced martinis. Saturday was walking all over Manhattan through farmers markets and art exhibits, with a stop for high tea.

There will be pictures later...

Turn on Your Lights - Reduce Hot Air Emissions

noreply@blogger.com (Nati) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 17:06:00 +0000

"It's 8pm on a Saturday, baby: let's turn off the lights." No, that's not Coletrain with the first chick to black out this evening. Rather, it's the mantra of the latest environmentalist cult, Earth Hour, a tool of the once sane non-wrestling-affiliated WWF. This website advocates turning off your lights between 8-9pm tonight, either to show your neighbors you're a more earth-conscious douchebag than they are, or to pay some credit off your carbon footprint for your 8-hour round trip in your snowboard-laden SUV from San Francisco to Lake Tahoe.

This is because you couldn't just fumble for the remote in the dark.

Meanwhile, it's almost April, and it snowed twice last week in Chicago. Following Al Gore's well-researched law of nature that unseasonably warm temperatures wherever Al Gore is hawking his theories serve as proof of global warming, I'd like to suggest my own law: if I'm tired of being fucking cold, it's proof of global cooling. I too have scientists to back my claim, so it must be true. So please, let's save the earth of cold weather and douchebags at the same time: turn on the lights between 5-6am tonight, when you normally wouldn't have them on...that is, unless you're like Coletrain, and might be ashamed of what you took home.

Sucking D*** For Gas?

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 19:17:00 +0000

If you got that email from "Jay Leno" that tries to argue that the country isn't going to hell in a handbasket, you have gotta read this.

A Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office spokesman says 43-year-old Kelli Still appeared at the home of an acquaintance near University Drive and Ellsworth Road. Deputies claim Still intended to barter oral sex for gas money. Instead, Still is accused of using a pair of scissors to stab Michael Hamilton several times.

Holy fucking shit. Back in the 1990s, we laughed about Bob Saget sucking dick for coke. Now it's some fortysomething giving brain to fill up the tank. Maybe things were better under Bill Clinton.

Heading NORTH for the Winter

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 05:27:00 +0000

My bosses laughed at me when I said I was taking Friday off to fly to Minneapolis. Sure, I have friends in Miami, Los Angeles, Austin, New Orleans, and other warm weather locales - but Minneapolis holds a special place in my heart.

When I lived in Minneapolis, I spend a lot of time working, fencing, and volunteering with my fraternity. And the relationships I made there were strong, and suprisingly resilient enough to last through my moving to the South, my friend's deployments to the Mideast, and even another's return to his home in Norway. I can be friendly and gregarious, but hanging with my friends in Minneapolis - I feel like I am at home.

After all, Minneapolis has a lot going for it, as you can see.

Most of my time was spent with a glass in my hand, and a glassy look in my eye. Unfortunately, that plan didn't do much for my fencing on Sunday morning, but competing in an epee tournamen was an afterthought. It's funny, because of the new 3-1-1 rule for liquids I need to check my bag if I want to bring my shaving products and cologne. And its just as easy for me to check my fencing bag (with my toiletries stored within) as it is to check my normal travel bag. Before that TSA bright idea - I probably would have let fencing go to avoid baggage claim and spent all Saturday night hanging out with these ladies...

It's just as well... I needed the tournament experience. Besides, even though I was in a hotel in the suburbs, I never once felt alone... I am sure to be back soon.

Yes, I've Lost My Edge

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 18 Mar 2008 05:03:00 +0000

Nati has already given me grief about not being on top of the Eliot "Client 9" Spitzer story. Certainly a funny post about former Gov. Eliot "$4500forahalfandhalfareyoufuckingkiddingme" Spitzer would be par for the course here at TFTDS. I am sure some of you were waiting with bated breath about how I would commentate on Easy E "I'vepickedupgirlsfromstarbucksandIwasbrokeatthetime" Spitzer's situation. But, I think the story has been done to death, and honestly - the only real shocker was that he paid so much. Ugly NFL linebackers are supposed to pay for sex, not high powered politicians. That's what the staffers are for.

Speaking of thieves and women, there is another one that I find way more interesting. He is not a governor or politician, although he has stolen his (much smaller) share of money. His name is Stephen Trantel, and I saw his story on 48 Hours (CBS) while I decided whether or not I should hang out with some girls in corsets at a Minneapolis club. Pictures will be up later, you be the judge...

Here is the digest... Mr. Trantel was your typical family man in the Wall Street trading biz. He loved his wife and family, and got caught up in the rat race of making lots of money to buy a house so large he could barely afford it, and trust fund level schools that his kids didn't need. The financial pressure hit him hard, and eventually he was forced off the commodities floor - essentially losing his job. No alternative means of employment was enough to make things happen, so he decided to hit Google and learn how to be a bank robber. He did, and came up with a successful set of rules that allowed him to rob at least 8 banks with ease. He was only captured because greed and success prevented him from changing up his MO before the cops caught on.

Aside from the secret life of the modern day Jesse James (sans death), Mr. Trantel seemed to be a loving father and devoted husband. And he was so successful, the district attorney over his case was forced to give him a sweet deal on prison time (8 years) because there was no other way to tie him to all the banks he allegedly knocked over. On the 48 Hours program he seemed geniunely contrite and sorrowful - acknowledging he did it all just to support his family.

So why did Mr. Trantel's wife leave him while he was in prison? She had some blame for his actions - she refused to be a part of the financial management of the household, yet she demanded the very things Trantel had to rob banks to finance. While I do not advocate theft as a vocation, you are not going to find a man more dedicated than him. Plus her notion of, "I deserve to have my freedom" was sickening. As I've said here before, the woman owns the emotional barometer of a relationship... if she missed the change in his life, she doesn't "deserve" anything. Rather than support her husband in his time of need; she hit the treadmill, and the singles bars looking for something new. Humbug.

At least Gov. Spitzer got something for the money he earned, Mr. Trantel only got eight years and no appreciation at all.

You Know What, I Think I Will Just Be A Jerk

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 22:51:00 +0000

One of my friends pointed out last fall that I was a complete jerk, especially to women. Just to see what would happen, I decided to not be a dick on a first date. I opened doors, I paid for stuff, I was generally nice and sweet, and I noticed and pointed out how pretty my date was that night. We went to nice restaurants in nice neighborhoods, and I was a complete gentleman.

Four first dates, four dead ends.

I think I will go back to being a jackass. Bees like honey, women like vinegar.

My Rules of Leadership and Business

noreply@blogger.com (ColeTrain) — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 05:26:00 +0000

In my short professional career I have had some of the most impressive bosses in the world, and some of the worst guys who shouldn't coach a league of seawater. I've also had the opportunity to manage some part-timers, as well as be an advisor and coach in my personal life. Here are some of my observations.

It's been said before - never ask a direct report to do something you aren't willing to do yourself.
Also, never point out or consider a defect in a direct report if you aren't willing to offer a remedy. I still own the iron a manager bought me.
A good relationship with your people is paramount. Without it, you don't have people - just employees working just hard enough not to get fired.
If you are a good judge of people and or a good recruiter - you are going to have a lot of people working for you who are smarter than you are. And that's ok.
For good managers, credit is like a super bouncy ball. The further you pass it down the organization, the more it bounces back up to you.
If you show a geniune interest in your people's lives - they won't mind so much when you interrupt it with more work.
Don't treat a direct report like your personal slave. The resentment that you build will never go away.
Avoid micromanaging whenever possible. Only use it to give direction; else your time would be better spent doing it yourself.
Public praise and private admonishment are the hallmarks of respected managers. If you don't practice this rule, your people probably don't respect you as much as you think.
Genuine praise is addictive like heroin. If it is real, people will work twice as hard to get it.
Be upfront and avoid the "compliment sandwich." All the sandwich does is devalue the compliments.
There are two types of negative issues - incidental and environmental. Incidental problems need only to be addressed once. Environmental problems have a root cause(s) that need to be addressed before the main problem goes away.
In general, your people should feel like you are on their side. If that is not the case, then they see you as an adversary - someone they must pillage and evade.
When it comes to promotions - reward people for success in the business, not for being deserving of your largess.
With few exceptions (huge difference in money being one) people leave bosses, not companies. People will give up a lot of benefits to escape one person they believe is making their life hell.
Loyalty is neither free nor cheap.
The more you make the effort to know and understand your people, the more they will praise your profound wisdom.
If you give general direction and allow your people to take ownership of the business - the good people will run with it, the bad people were out the door anyway.
Expectations and rules are not the same. Rules can be bent or broken or revised - when you break an expectation, you let someone down.
Unless you work in a factory - you won't have much success managing people by the clock.
The military discipline is only for the military. In the military, you can punish people physically for being late, and kill them for insubordination. Those disincentives and the discipline it breeds doesn't translate well to civilian life.
Every job starts with finding the best people. If you get that part right, the rest is usually easy.

Hope this helps!