I Secretly Want To Be A Club Adult

Doesn't that picture (left) look sweet? I wish I was there right now, tapping my foot and bobbling my head up and down to the spinsations of this DJ... but, instead I'm just sitting on my deck, staring at a squirrel in the backyard. There's too much sunlight back here! I wish it was dark out, or, even better I wish it was past midnight and I was at this club. Bet that DJ is sick... and I don't mean he has flu-like symptoms. I mean, like, he's a really good DJ that plays really good music. Get it?

I secretly want to be a club adult. It's kind of like being a club kid, except older and instead of sucking on ring pops I would snort cocaine or drink hard liquor, or both... because that's what club adults do.

I want to come home at 5 a.m. with white powder all over my nose, and when my wife asks me where I was at I'll ignore her and just walk to the liquor cabinet to get a Night/Day Cap. And when my son tries to wake me up in the morning I won't even hear him because I'll be totally blacked out... I wish I were blacked out right now. Then I wouldn't have this sun in my eyes... I wish I were a club adult.

Top-Ten Milestones of a 402-Month-Old Baby Boy

There are certain milestones that come along with being a 402-month-old baby boy. And I'm happy depressed to say that this baby boy is pretty much on track:

10. No longer smiles at the sound of his wife's voice
9. Grasps objects, especially those filled with alcohol
8. Rolls from back to stomach and stomach to back and never really gets any sleep
7. Stops responding to own name, until the fourth or fifth try
6. Vocabulary reduced to one-word sentences: "Huh?" "Wha?" "Idunno."
5. Drinks from a mug
4. Begins make believe play about what his life should have been
3. Learning how to ride a motorcycle
2. No longer dresses himself
1. Jumps, hops and skips and spends the next three days in bed recovering from neck, back and leg soreness

F#%k the Label: Kenny G Decides To Toot His Own Horn

First Radiohead. Now Kenny G. Rebels against the label...

Kenny G does it his own way - CNN.com

The G-man saw no point in following other older artists like Rod Stewart and Barry Manilow down the well-worn path of playing cover tunes. So he arranged an amicable divorce from Arista Records in order to return to making original music.

It's Always Shitty In St. Louis

Actually, that headline is misleading. It's not really that shitty here. I'm just bitter about everyone ripping on Detroit, so I thought I'd take it out on St. Louis. Hope I didn't offend too many of my readers in Missouri. I think they account for about 1 percent of the readership of Burkett Humor, which is just one person -- a guy named Henry. Sorry Henry... if you're available for a drink this weekend, I'm staying at the Courtyard Marriott. Call me. My treat.

Anyway, this is my first time visiting St. Louis and if you've never been here before SPOILER ALERT!!!! they have an arch. It is kind of spectacular when you get up close to it and also very inspirational. Just standing next to it for a couple of minutes I came up with what I think are three very hilarious arch jokes. You see, I'm thinking about touring Missouri comedy clubs to do a standup act that's all about the arch. All arch jokes, all the time. I'll even include it in my stage name, something like "Archie Arch the Arch Humorist" or "Archie the jokester" or "A guy named Adam who appreciates the arch so much so that he's devoted a whole act to it."

Here's some of the material I've been working on:

"So if I were to get in a fight with the Gateway Arch, would that make it my arch-nemesis?"

"I was down by the Gateway Arch today, and I just couldn't hold it any longer, so I urinated on the base of it. I think it's what they call a golden arch. Anyone hungry for some McDonald's?"

"If there were a war being fought along the riverfront in St. Louis, would those little shelters soldiers build to protect themselves be referred to as 'arch-ie bunkers?'

If you have any arch jokes you've been dying to tell, please share them in the comments area below. I'm really working on collecting as much material as possible for my Missouri road show. I think it's going to be huge. Can't wait!

Sixth Grade Journal: Super Bowl Memories Or Why I Should Have Been a Writer for Sports Illustrated

After watching that crazy Super Bowl game last night, (SPOILER ALERT!!!) where the New York Giants shocked the New England Patriots 17 to 14, I was inspired to open my Sixth Grade Journal... to see if I had ever written anything about the big game in 1986 between the Chicago Bears (click here to see the '86 Bears) and, again, the New England Patriots (click here to see the '86 Pats).

What I found was that I totally missed my calling in life. My journal coverage of Super Bowl XX was on par with some of the greatest sports writers in America.

It was better than, like, the sports coverage you get in your newspaper. I didn't just talk about the game, I talked about what I did that day leading up to the game, building suspense up until the part where I reveal the outcome.

I could have been a writer for Sports Illustrated, but I just didn't recognize my talent back then... Now I know... Now I know... And now I want you to know about the brilliant voice the sports world never got to hear:

1-20-86
On Sunday morning I woke up watched tv then my friend came over and we played coleco vision. After we finished playing I had a basketball game and we lost the game by three points and I scored six points. After the game I watched Super Bowl over my friends house and the Bears creamed them. When I got home I did my homework then went to bed.

Oh Ricky What a Pity: A Bowler's Brush With Perfection

There's been a lot of talk this week about the New England Patriots and "the perfect season" that they have a chance to complete after today's Super Bowl game against the New York Giants.

To get warmed up for this potentially historic game, I tuned into what I thought was a historic bowling match on ESPN Classic. I mean, why would they bother showing bowling on ESPN Classic unless it was an important can't-miss bowling match? Right?

And so I sat at the edge of my seat, cheering on Ricky Ward as he toyed with perfection, throwing strike after strike after strike... and when Ricky threw his eighth in a row, pointed his index fingers to the sky and brought them down to his hips as if they were guns going into holsters, I jumped up and screamed "Shoot those pins down Ricky! Shoot 'em down!!!"

He was like a machine. There was no stopping him. In fact, at one point, the announcer chimed in with a brilliantly clever homage to the Go-go's hit song Hey Mickey!: "Oh Ricky ... can't you understand... Nobody throws strikes like you Ricky."

And just when I thought the inevitable was about to happen -- perfection, a 300 game, a classic ESPN Classic moment -- Ricky left the seven pin standing. I paused on that last-standing pin with my DVR controller, and just stared at it for several minutes asking questions like: "Why pin? Why didn't you fall? And why did I waste my afternoon watching a non-classic bowling match on ESPN Classic?"

I don't know where Ricky is at now, if he's still bowling, or if he became a homeless drunk after missing his 300 chance... because most homeless people are former professional bowlers. Look it up... But wherever he is, I bet he's thinking about that seven pin. I know I'll be thinking about it for a while. And if you're Tom Brady and the New England Patriots, and you get a chance to read my blog before tonight's game, there's a lesson to be learned from Ricky. Don't let the seven pin get in the way of your dreams. Knock it down Tom. Knock it down.

Update: Giants 17 Patriots 14 ... apparently the Patriots didn't have a chance to read my blog.

Mayor of Detroit Caught Hot Tubbing With a Turtle

Who is Carmen Slowski? A turtle? And is the mayor of Detroit, Kwame Kilpatrick, having an affair with this turtle?

That was my take on an article I read in the Detroit News today, where Kilpatrick is described by sources as being seen (Or heard? It doesn't really say.) sharing a hot tub and a glass of champagne with the slow-moving reptile. This comes just after the local papers released records of saucy text messages he exchanged with his chief of staff Christine Beatty, who is a human... although she does kind of look like a giraffe.

Below is the excerpt about the turtle sex from the newspaper, highlighted in a turtle-friendly text color:

Investigative reporter Steve Wilson of WXYZ-TV said his sources told him the woman at the hotel resort was definitely not the mayor's wife, Carlita.

According to Wilson's report, the woman identified herself as Carmen Slowski at the spa. The name "Slowski" is similar to the name of the Slowskys, husband and wife turtles featured in several Comcast Cable commercials promoting high-speed Internet.

So, yeah, my take from this is that the mayor is hooking up with a female, cable TV mogul turtle. Now, as to how serious the relationship is, I'm not sure. He might just be in it for the free high-speed Internet.

Pre Super Bowl Week Is So Depressing

Why is the week before the Super Bowl always so depressing? I guess it's that way whenever you have any big event coming up, like a high school class reunion, the birth of your first child or the season finale of Rock of Love. The anticipation kills you. It, like, puts your life on hold until it finally happens and then you can move on.

I'm sitting here looking at the large bags of potato chips, pretzels and scoopable nacho chips and the six-pack of Sun Maid Raisins -- my favorite Super Bowl snack -- sitting on the counter unopened, all snacks I purchased for the party we're having for next week's big game. There's a seven-layer dip in the fridge, too, that my wife made ahead of time, just so the top layer has time to solidify and force you to break through with your chip to get to the gooey core. And I already made my signature kickoff cake (pictured, above). I probably should have waited on that one, so it would be fresher, but I suppose if it toughens up a bit its texture will be more authentic, like pigskin. And then there's a whole keg of O'Doul's on the back porch, getting chilled in the Michigan winter... the perfect beverage for a group of Super Bowl Sunday partiers who are concerned about getting to work on time on Monday.

And I already purchased my square in the office Super Bowl pool. I've been staring at my numbers for the past three days -- and will probably continue to do so throughout next week -- trying to figure out what scenario would enable both teams to have a score ending in 9. Maybe if the game ends up in a tie, like 29 to 29, then they would split the trophy and I would win the office pool... It could happen.

Well, it's officially past midnight, which makes it Saturday. That means we're only eight days away now. It's probably good. I'll need the extra time to figure out what roman numerals to use for this Super Bowl decoupage I'm doing for my party. It's totally going to blow people away. I can't wait! Seriously. I can't wait.

LOL! LOL! Detroit Mayor's Sexy Texts Lack Shorthand Skillz

My city's mayor (Deeetroit!) is in a whole-lotta trouble. But before I get to what's bothering me about this sitcheation, let me throw out this quick explanatory timeline for my national and international readers:

2002 to 2003ish: Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick exchanges 14,000 hot, steamy, and dreamy Boys-II-Men-"I'll-Make-Love-To-You"-like text messages with his chief of staff Christine Beatty... on their city-issued CrackBerrys.

August 2007: Kilpatrick and Beatty, at a police whistle-blower trial, both testify, under oath, that they are "unfamiliar with each other's private parts." (Actually, that's not the real quote, but I thought it would be cool if it was.)

Yesterday: The Detroit Free Press publishes a PG-13 sampling of the 14,000 text messages. And the mayor runs off to his $400,000 home in Florida with his family, all while his fate is being determined back in the Motor City. OMG!!!

OK. So now that you know the story, you're probably going through the whole "What were they thinking?" phase, and once you get past that you'll go into the "Seriously. What were they thinking?" phase. But once you get past all that, you'll want to start breaking this thing down into specifics... that's where I'm at. I'm over the whole affair thing and the lying and the wasting of city taxpayer dollars and all that; what I'm more concerned about is their ignorance or laziness when it comes to using text message shorthand. LOL! LOL! That's all they got!

LOL is used 14 times in the small sampling of texts pictured in the image, above. And sometimes twice in a row. Think about it. Who laughs out loud twice in a row after reading a text message? They must have been having some pretty hilarious love-making sessions for it to be so funny to read on a CrackBerry display. "She said, 'boobies.' Ha Ha Ha! ... Ha Ha Ha!" "He said, 'balls.' Hee Hee Hee! ... Hee! Hee! Hee!"

If these two would have spent less time laughing out loud and more time studying text message shorthand, they wouldn't be in this mess. Let's do a little exercise here and take a couple of the text messages and see if we can't convert them into something that would be a little more difficult for authorities to translate:

Actual Message Exchange
Beatty: "And, did you miss me, sexually?"

Kilpatrick: "Hell yeah! You couldn't tell. I want some more."

Shorthand Conversion
Beatty: "&, did u miss r 121 1174?" That actually translates into "And, did you miss our one to one nude club?" But it pretty much gets the same point across, right?

Kilpatrick: "ADIH. MTF." Which translates into "Another day in hell. More to follow." Again, it's not exact, but much more difficult to trace than their over-wordy, literal exchanges.

Let's try one more.

Actual Message Exchange
Kilpatrick: "I'm madly in love with you."

Beatty: "I hope you feel that way for a long time. In case you haven't noticed, I am madly in love with you, too!"

Shorthand Conversion
Kilpatrick: "LUMTP." Translates into "Love you more than pie," which I think works better anyway because if you've seen the mayor, he's a pretty big guy, so that's saying a lot.

Beatty: "ATSL. ILYPT." Which spells out "Along the same lines. I love your pie, too."

See. That wasn't so hard. I think the lesson to be learned here is: If your loins are burning for a 14,000-text romance, just stick to the KISS (Keep it shorthand stupid).

Sixth Grade Journal: Race and Politics From a Former Racist

I was going to write about how CNN and other media outlets seem to be manufacturing conflict and creating divisiveness by forcing this race-gender discussion on candidates, but after reading through my Sixth Grade Journal I realized I have no credibility when it comes to this topic.

Because, apparently, I used to be a racist.

OK. Maybe I'm being a little hard on myself. Maybe the proper term is "racially insensitive" or "ignorant." I didn't have any hate in me, I was just dumb enough to think that stereotypes were true.

I was born a white male and was raised as a white male in an all-white blue collar community. We had zero black students at my elementary school. Zero black students at my junior high school. And Chavez, who was the only black student at my high school. And as far as Asians or Hispanic/Latino kids or Samoans go, I'm not sure. My mind wasn't developed enough back then to notice yellows or beiges in skin color. People were either white or black... Actually, in my world, people were just white, unless they were on TV.

The only black people I knew by name were Isiah Thomas and Magic Johnson. Now, I don't think my young mind believed that black people were only good at sports and not capable of succeeding in other careers. I did meet a black doctor named Heathcliff Huxtable in 1984. I do, however, think that I believed that all black people were superior to whites in sports... and yes, especially at basketball. But based on the score of this game mentioned below, maybe you can't blame me? Here's the story from my Sixth Grade Journal:

02-23-86
On Sunday morning I watched Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde and it was good. After that I had a tournament game and we lost 80 to 10 against a colored team, and they had the advantage cause they were about 3 feet taller than us. After the game I had another game and we lost by five when I got home I was tired so I took a nap. I then woke up and ate dinner, we had spaghetti and meatballs and after I ate I did my homework then went to bed.