YouTube Awesomeness



First up we've got one of the happier, more awesome vids I've seen in a long time. It combines the hypnotic qualities of a stupid skill set* with the equally hypnotic beats of Daft Punk. I guarantee you will not be able to watch this only once, also watchiing this when really hungover automatically makes you feel at least 20% better.



Second, and with a huge Hat Tip to straightbangin, we've got the Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY, born "Hipster Olympics." Yep, it's a little too true-I really liked the commercials and commentary.

*"stupid skill set," yes, that means something I can't do, that I wish I could do. Mad love to Jesssss for showing me the Daft Punk vid.

Weekend Update

A few things before I officially begin to kick it for the weekend...

My Phone, New Hottness. Your phone, Old and Busted.


So fresh, so clean.

On Thursday, or Donnerstag for our German friends, I got caught in one of the most wicked and torrential thunderstorms I've ever experienced. I was out by Lake Michigan enjoying a lovely afternoon at the beach when the tempest struck. Seventy mile per hour winds, downed trees, whipping rains and flooded streets; none of these could stop me on my madcap ride back to the safety of my apartment in Logan Square. Though I could not be stopped, my shit-tacular Motorola was stopped for good by the deluge and consequential puddles. After a futile effort at drying out and recusistating the drenched technological non-wonder, I set out yesterday A.M. and picked up my new phone. It's nice and simple, like me. Also, unlike me, it can access the Internet, play MP3s and it's got bluetooth compatibility.

The best part about getting the new phone had to be the not-so-ambiguously gay duo of Miguel and Mark who sold me the phone and tried, oh, so hard, to sell me on themselves as well. It was shameless how they tried to flirt with me, and Mark actually wrote his personal email on his business card, how unprofessional can you get? In any case I got a free bluetooth headset for the new phone and I began to wonder about two things: The ethical implications of not explaining your sexaul orientation once it becomes obvious that the other individual(s) are certainly wrong. And two, exactly how gay do I come across? To get to the bottom of that query, I've set up a new poll on the suddenlystruttin.

Also, go see Superbad it's hilarious.

Sports Thursday



Yep, the ruler's back. Look I know there is still a year 'til the 2008 Olympics but this isn't going to be 2004 and this isn't going to be a bronze for the Team Naismith. Coach K ain't Larry Brown and he sure is shit isn't allowing them to listen to any music-let alone easy jazz. Fool, Coach K does one thing and that one thing is making teams that kill punk mugs by utilizing python meets crane defense, that can handle the pick & roll and teams that shoot the lights out to set up an interior attack of slashers and bigs. Lo and behold, USA's got a squadron of slashers, shooters and one or two bigs who can bang around with Andre the Giant and his posse. Mark it down, 2008: The year everybody is Pippen, Longley or Rodman to Kobe's MJ and USA wins some shine back.

Other News and Notes: Nellie, "Pay me, bitches."
Yesterday Don Nelson took the brazen step of furthering his basketball legacy/megalomania by demanding more money and incentives off his already lucrative three year contract with the Golden State Warriors. Nellie refused to comment, leaving Andris Biedrins to handle reporters. Biedrins, who was humorously costumed in a lion tamer's outfit, proclaimed, "Back you media attack panzers! I cry out to you with force and no fear. Back I say, Simbas, back!"


Much like this only taller and more Latvian.

More like "Rad"atouille

Periodically, Tony Ritz has gotta take a break from the blog game and when those moments inevitably arrive, Tony's got a stable of accomplished bloggers to take you on home. Today, we've got Tony's friend, Felonious Krunk scribing a review of the Pixar release, Ratatouille.

Jeah, s'up blognation? Shit, yo, my man Ritz got me fucking puttin down the 411 on y'all ignant mugs about what movie y'all need to be speckin' fa sho. Now don't be peepin' dis bloggin and be all, "Okay poindexter, what the fuck has blogs and Disney flicks got to do with life on da streets?" To wit, bitches be cool, I blog to get my words heard and fa realz Remy that lead rat in dis joint is on some Do The Right Thing throwin shit at whitey tips. Remy is a revolutionary standing up for those without a voice. The action starts off with our boy, Remy, feudin' wit his dad about the role of rats and what a rat can ultimately be: chef or thief? Remy, loves cookin' and has got a nose for the finer things, just like yo boy, Felonious to the motherfucking K. as in Krunk. Yo and Remy stands up and moves to Paris France and starts cooking like a madaman with a lil bit of assistance from some dumbass cracka who can't cook fo' shit and is the garbage boy for the restaurant. After getting the stupid whitey with an overbite to get his rat self in the kitchen Remy is impressing all types of rich, white Parisians with some mouth waterin' shit. Then some gay white people shit happened and I stepped out to smoke a blunt. After that, I strutted back and started laughing my black ass off at the fucking talking rat. I caint remember much else of what happened. I give it 3 starts outta 4.

You Might Already be a Winner!

I know it's only Tuesday, but on the same half-block stretch of California Ave. I saw two very strong contenders for Jackass of the Week Honors. Our first entrant was some hipster chump sporting those tapered Levi's that are all the rage this year along with a zipped up pleather jacket in sunny 84 degree weather with a humidity of around 90%. Normally, this would be enough but to aid in his nomination he was also like 6'6 and was wearing doofus hipster glasses. On any given week, I would've given this fella the trophy (punch to the solar plexus) on the spot. BUT right down the road was an equally ambitious go-getter of all things jackassery entails. Yep, some jerk ass was taking a piss on the side of the road in plain day light behind only a recycling bin and there was a mom with a stroller like ten feet in front of him. I need to get another digicam and a plaque for these "awesome competitors" ASAP.

Cubano Challenge

I like Logan Square, it's a nice neighborhood in my favorite city, sure, it has it's problems with car alarms or noisy neighbors or that damn jackass on the bike with the clown horn. BUT for the most part it's a great hood and it definitely affords me the opportunity to sample as much Mexican, Cuban and Puerto Rican food as I want. With that in mind, I've begun a new foray within the culinary realm: namely, I'm going to start comparing and reviewing cubanos. This is the first of such posts. For those of you not in the know, cubanos are an amazing Cuban, duh, specialty sandwich with ham, roasted pork, cheese and mustard on a french roll. Logan Square has a plethora of joints that offer this on the menu and some are amazing, while others are dismal.


Today's Entrant: El Rinconcito Cubano. Located a scant four blocks from my house on the 3200 block of Fullerton, El Rinconcito is a few doors down from one of the better LS bars, The Whirlaway. Now, if the proprietors wanted, I suspect, they could make like gangbusters with the drunk hipster crowd filtering out of Whirlaway at bar time, alas, they as of now, have not gone with this plan and are only open til 8 p.m. The interior is predictably "ethnic" in the fashion that any authentic Mexicano or Cubano restarante. Tons of bric a brac adorn the walls, chintzy table cloths and of course, a voluptuous hostess accompanied by a crone who's responsibility is to harangue the kitchen staff in her native tongue. The sandwich is slightly overpriced for what you get, but was-it seemed-brushed with butter which is certainly a unique wrinkle to the bread. The pork was thinly sliced and not of any real merit. Not awful by any stretch, just not great. Too much mayonaise and the brushed on butter contributed to make the sandwich too greasy for my tastes, but it was ok. I give it 2.5 outta five stars.

Real Quick

Last week I briefly discussed Destroyer premiering some new songs at a show in Calgary, Canada and one of the commenters was puzzled, wondering a) who's Destroyer? and b) why I'm not talking about Carly Simon more. Well, I don't really have an answer about the Carly dilemma but I do have a video of the new Dan Bejar, aka: Destroyer song. It's called "Foam Hands" it's really good.

A Justified Sunday Afternoon

Headed out to my friend Dee's house this morning for her moving sale and picked up a copy of Timberlake's still marginally hott if less relevant "Justified," The Mosquito Coast and a change jar all for the low, low, low price of five fifty. Man, listening to the JT I had completely forgot how jamming this album was and how, I believe, the first single was "Like I Love You" and the boss cameo by the Clipse locked that shit up like Brinks.


"We still be underrated." "Yeah, and we still sell that white."


Moreso, the unstoppable "Cry Me a River," man, looking back at that single-was this when Britney started her cataclysmic descent? I know she came out with "Toxic" after this was dropped but maybe this was the beginning of the end or that Timberlake put a hex on her? In any case, he's still shinin' and Spears is now this Skankzilla of a mother that nobody's dizznick better be wanting to get close to.



Whoa, back that SlutTrain the fuck up.

Rumblings and Ramblings

Man alive, this summer time heat is crushing me. My little apartment is a lot of things but a harborer of modest temperature in August is certainly not one of them, fortunately, I've discovered some things to take my mind off the heat.

New Destroyer Songs Yep, my favorite musician performed at a church in Calgary last month and played two new songs that had never been heard before. Hot Holy Crap! They are both really good and for my tastes the new "Foam Hands" is his best song since "Your Blues."

Noisy Neighbors Holy Fuck, I hate noisy neighbors. In no particular order these are the most annoying noises I hear every day on my street: The jackass candy salesman. The crying little kids. The dog downstairs from me. Car alarms, constantly car alarms. Now, I can't hate on little kids-they're young and stupid-but Jesus H. Christ! Parents, get some fucking control. Lock the bastards in your house so I don't have to hear them screaming and crying outside. I tell you I can't be my sexiest when I'm listening to kids screaming and crying. Car alarms: Did a noisy truck just rumble by? Yep, and now the car alarm on some douche's 1994 Chrysler Sebring is going off. The dog downstairs gets a pass, since he's really really friendly and it's nice to scratch his ears. The jackass candy saleman. I'm not sure what this fucker sells, I just hear him before I see him and always begin to load and ready my imaginary sniper rifle. This cock-knocker rides his bike with one of those obnoxious clown horns honking non-stop up and down the block peddling whatever he sells... I hate him.

Magnetic Knife Holder This thing is sooo neat. I just got it on Monday at Target and it's great.

That's that. Another post has been posted, not like this really worth reading, unless of course, you love Destroyer and magnetic knife holders and hate noisy neighbors.

MEMO:

TO:What I used to know as the best burger I'd ever eaten
FROM:Tony Ritz
DATE:08/03/2007
RE:YOU'RE NO LONGER THE BEST!
On Friday night I had the best hamburger of my life. To even threaten this meal with that kind of hyperbole y'all best recognize how serious I am about this. I'll repeat, on Friday night at Rosebud Steakhouse I had the best hamburger of my life. Yo, and let me further expound on this jazz, "B.B.O.M.L" that shit ain't even hyperbolic, that's Gospel Truth, we're talking about culinary paradigm shift, an appocalypse in the kitchen of my mind. The plate is unreal, a heaping helping of perfectly crisped pommes frites accents what shall evermore be known as "The Ideal." To the left of both the fries and "The Ideal" is what my friend Nat, astutely described as the salad of accoutrements. Lettuce, pickle, onion and a fresher than fresh tomato. Do not use all of them on "The Ideal," I suggest taking two and then eating the rest as a salad.

I ordered mine medium rare with swiss cheese and sauteed mushrooms. Upon first bite, my tastebuds began to cry from the joy they were experiencing, the synapses within my brain began to misfire, my ears only heard "An die Freude"Sadly, no photos were taken...

My Weekend in Milwaukee

I had a bike-tacular weekend in Chicago and Milwaukee. It started on Friday afternoon when a friend convinced me to ride Chicago's Critical Mass with him. I looked at my schedule for Friday evening/night and realized my date with Sienna Miller wasn't til next Friday so I said sure. The only problem with agreeing to doing the "CritMass" was that I knew there were going to be hippies. Hippies who use terms like, "CritMass" and "Harshing my buzz," or such nonsense. After thoroughly covering myself in Hippy-Be-Gone and investing in a six pack of Stroh's my pal Paul and I were ready to rock. We headed southeast towards the Loop and away from the safety of our home base, Logan's Square. We joined up with the biking throng and headed south and west, our destination was the famous Spindle, which is a piece of public art in the middle of a parking lot in a strip mall. The only reason I say it's famous is because it was prominently featured in the "Bohemian Rhapsody" scene in Wayne's World and for the two or three readers to this blog, I'm rather certain you'll know what I'm talking about. Here's a picture if you'd like...




In any case after riding all the way out to the southwest 'burbs and singing a "stirring" Queen medley, Paul and I stopped at Popeye's Chicken on the way home and went to some weird parking lot party where I chatted up a girl from Portland, OR who was wearing some throwback Reebok Pumps, I'm pretty sure they were the 1991 Niques and they were Boss HAWG! After the party I was pretty pooped so I went home and fell asleep. I'll get to the part about Milwaukee at a later time. The highlights were hoping to see a big crash in this boring-ass bike race and stopping at a Woodman's on the way home to buy some beer that's not available in Chicago.

Man, I love writing drunk.

So this morning I woke up with a bit of an h-over and, to my surprised, discovered that I'd been writing last while somewhat inebriated after a night on the town with my friend Erik J. Here is the verbatim transcript straight from Appleworks.

"Normally I don’t talk about the day - to - day goings on and goings out og a slacker Chicago writer, but this shit i s fucking’s hilarious. So the fucking story narrateslike this. I’m peddallling the shit out of MIlwaukeee ave on my chump ass bike that was abike I’ve had to invest more into for upkeep than I was hoping to invest into on a bike. .Suckerdom run up, and most nights I’ spentd my self dawdling i and/or frittering away the hours. Tonight was someting different as Erik J vand I struvk ouy for new horisonz by jumping and crawling from bar to bar. We had a about asd a gay old ttime with one another pre-insertion or sicth Jaeger Boimb and we strwtched out our emotions with a bit thie past Fall a d Winter."

Yeah, so anybody out there in Internet Land who is fluent in Drunk should really get bak to me on what the Hell I was talking about. In any case, Erik and I went on a tour of some off the beaten path bars. At the end of the night on my way home I stopped by the 24 hour McDonalds and tried to order at the drive thru while on my bike. It didn't work and instead of going home I just waited for a person in a car to show up. A green car showed up with this tiny Latina lass rolling up in it and I slow her down and ask if she'll order me a double cheeseburger and small fries. Deal Done! It was awesome. I'd told her to keep the change and she said no, no, you've made my night and that she should be the one paying me. Awwww!

NBA Banterin' Part One

Hey so it's been about a month since the Spurs shoved a cactus up Danny Ferry's dumbass so why don't we take a looksie at what's been going on:

Phoenix Suns Picked up Grant Hill from the Magic, fucking brilliant! Let's see get knocked out by the Spurs for a lack of aggresive interior presence and dudes with no cajones. Yeah, picking up Hill is gonna solve that problem because calling Hill injury prone is like citing the boy in the plastic bubble as infection prone. I've got 20 bucks on Hill's bum ankle breaking into two by December. However, lest we forget: Grant Hill is a no-frills stone cold bad ass on the inside as well. Shit doesn't anybody remember how he cold cocked Shaq after O'Neal grabbed a board by boxing Hill out? It happened and it was awesome.

Memphis Grizzlebies Picked up Darko and Mike Conley Jr. Throw these two into the fray with Rudy, Pau and the duct tape magic and we've got ourselves some first round 08 'offs fodder for Dallas or SA. I forgot who said it first but the Grizzles averaged over 110 points without a point guard last year. This should be an incredibly fun team to watch if still embarassingly bad on the D side of things. If everything goes right I'm saying the Grizzles take out a 2 seeded Phoenix ala G-State did with Big D this year...

Charlotte BobcatsZZZ Ha! See how I put those ZZZs behind the Bobcats name implying that they are boring. Well, it's still true in spite of locking Gerald and nabbing JRich from the Oakland State Warriors. Emeka, Gearld and Jason are gonna make the Playoffs in the depleted East somehow but it ain't gonna be pretty.

O-Town Magic Makers Hocus Pocus! Mickey Mouse Land is more pumped than it has been in years for the riproarin' Orlando Magic, I don't care who their coach is. This team is so much better than it was two months ago. They didn't get much in the draft this year thanks to the Darko deal with Detroit from a few years ago but what they did get in the draft was, guh? A Serbian big, no kidding? The 'Shard and Dwight show with special guest appearances by Jameer Nelso at point guard makes these dudes pretty darn dangerous in the East-I'm looking at you Land of Cleve and Chicago.

Live Free or Die Hard is Soooooo Fucking Good

Well, I just got back from the cinema and they should just cancel the Oscars for this year because Live Free or Die Hard is sweeping the entire fucking event. Best Movie: Live Free or Die Hard, Best Actor: Bruce Willis, LFDH, Best Supporting Actor, The guy from the Apple commercials, LFDH, Best Musical? Live Free Die Hard! No CGI in this and you know what this means? They didn't animate shit blowing up they just blew it up! Yep, tonight was probably top 5 in my summer so far right behind banging all those hot chicks that one time and after catching my first musky! What did I do, you may be wondering. Well I went and ate a full fucking side of pork ribs at Fat Willy's. And then crossed the street and saw the best fucking movie since ... I don't know, a little picture called "Ben Hur." Seriously, I can't think of a better way to work through a Sunday night in the summer then just gorging on barbeque meat and watching all sorts of thing: power plants, the Capitol building, highways, semi-trucks, fighter jets all getting blown to kingdom come. Bruce Willis looks insanely old and I have to assume he was wearing some sorta reinforced plastic girdle or maybe had manplants to compensate for fifty+ years of gravity. BUT the hotness of Mary Elizabeth Winstead and Maggie Q (Get one of the interns to find out if she's the next "Hott" thing. Have them check on their new iPhone.) more than makes up for Brucie's old timer appearance, seriously, he's not making it much longer...

Bumping into Obama, Oh Yeah!

Not that I have photographic evidence of this or that it was even a significant interaction, but I saw Barack mixing with the people the other day at Fulton's on the River. Now the only thing that brought a wretch like me to a "high falootin'" joint such as Fulton's is their great happy hour special of one dollar!! oysters. I have a soft spot in my heart for all sorts of bivalves and right beneath below the bearded clam is my second favorite: the oyster. Upon settling into the bar my friend Erik and I ordered a few beers and chitchatted with the bartender and she mentioned how excited that Obama was gonna be in the house. Erik and I glanced at each other and sorta chuckled about the ramifications that this news meant. ...Charming our way into Obama's Cabinet was thrown about... We ate our oysters, drank our Goose Islands and enjoyed the spectacle of a photographing Hydra sprang into the bar backwards in retreat all while still snapping away at the as yet unseen Senator. And then he was there. With a clipped "What Up" head nod and self-mocking, "Excuse me, while I put this sport coat on. It helps me look more presidential." Guffaw, Guffaw.

Back from Mexico

Cannot say that I've missed much while in the outpost town of Cancun. As many brain cells as the tequilla tried to kill, I cannot forget the game one of The Finals I watched from a hotel sports bar and I slept through half of game two. If things don't change tonight for the better, read: a Cavs win and Manu getting knocked the fuck out by Drew Gooden I'm giving up on this NBA season and not thinking about Naismith's baby til the draft.

DAMN are you not entertained?

Cavs and Pistons: The Bloodening

All right after last night's great game 4 we officially have ourselves a serious series. Everywhere you look on the blog-o-sphere people are praising the rebirth of LeBron and saying that he's the one. You won't get any argument from me over here at suddenlystruttin either. Bron's jam over 'Sheed, the clutchosity of his fourth quarter performances the past two games and his dismissal of Rip at the foul line are all the stuff of minor NBA deities. What startles me about this series has not been LeBron, nor the fact that Detroit could've been swept all ready if not for two errant passes from Donyell and Hughes, but instead the consistent showing up of various role players coming to BronBron's aid and assistance in his times of need. "Boobie" Gibson was smooth like a classy high end bourbon last night and throughout the series Sahsa has been locking down on whomever he's supposed to guard. For my money the best story of the Cavaliers and the Eastern Conference Playoffs has been the rebirth of Zydrunas Ilgauskas, practically left for dead after his plethora of foot problems throughout the first half of his career, Z has quietly stitched together a decent second act. Now, I'm not a psychiatrist, that's not what I went to school for, but Z has had a fucking rough go of life in the NBA; aforementioned foot problems, being stuck on a shitty team in a city that occasionally makes Lithuania seem very okay and then to top it off you and your wife are cursed with still born twins! Yet, somehow Zydraunas with the plodding sensibility and knowledge of something much older battles on! His the third most productive center this Playoffs behind MemO (surprised!) and a guy named Duncan.

Draft Lotto Ruminations

Portland and Seattle, well, are they going to be around long enough for these picks to really help? From all I've read it seems as though the Sonic's bags are already packed and they're going to be mailing it in for the last season in Seattle. The Trailblazers, though, my, my, how Fortuna has smiled upon thee! I don't think Portland can go wrong drafting either Durant or Oden, I think they'll have a tough time selling Zach Randolph to anyone besides the Knicks and the Knicks don't even need him. The strange thing about this lotto is how much stronger the Western Conference is going to be. With two of the top three picks going to the Northwest Division we're looking at another decade of bigs from the West running the East out of the gym in the Finals. Which is a shame, I was really hoping to see one Conference get Durant and one get Oden. Also, is Kobe Bryant going to leave the Lake Show if the management doesn't make the right moves this offseason? If I'm Bryant I'm thinking to myself, "How do I get the big ticket outta the West and start over in the East?" Kobe as a Knick or Bobcat by 2008? Specualtive but not desirably intriguing.

Those handsome San Antonio Crocodiles...Spurs, I mean Spurs...

I'm starting this piece a few days prematurely in the hope of cursing the Spurs at least into a five or six game series with the Utah Yazz. I fear that this will have little to no effect, for you see the Spurs have the same grim countenance of a full grown reptilian predator, say a salt water crocodile or Komodo Dragon. Yes I despise the Spurs, I find Ginobili to be an irritating jackass who flops too much, Parker a whiny and overrated passer who catches aflame once a series. Duncan, however, has the visage of a calm and cool character beneath which boils an angry and focused basketball warrior. Before the playoffs started I didn't really like Duncan, I felt that he had lost a step and that he'd be knocked around by younger bigs such as Yao or Amare, yet here we are with Tim Duncan showing everybody what's up. Yes, the Spurs are single minded and ferocious like a crocodile.