What A Crapfest.

Yesterday I had the "pleasure" of watching about 5 minutes of The Tony Danza Show. In all fairness I should say that I was not an unbiased observer. I also had the "pleasure" of meeting Mr. Danza a few years back when he fell under my "protection" at work. I have to say that the assignment wasn't terribly difficult as Mr. Danza didn't exactly attract a crowd. However, it was highly annoying when he continually made uncomfortably strong advances towards a female coworker of mine. He even went as far as to kiss her hand. It was pathetic. Anyway, back to the five minutes of the show I saw. Tony spent the first few minutes telling the audience about the reruns of Taxi and Who's The Boss that he had watched that morning. Apparently the writers for both of those shows were awesome. What kind of pompous jerk uses his crappy talk show to brag about how great is previous crappy shows were? Perhaps the next segment of the talk show will answer that question. Tony had the Stanley Cup on the show. Oddly enough, the Stanley Cup was also under my "protection" at one point in time. If you have ever seen the Stanley Cup in real life you will know that it is always escorted by a white glove clad man named Mike. Mike is a pretty nice guy, but is also pretty anal about people touching the cup. The whole purpose of Mike is to keep human oils off of the cup. You can imagine how thrilled Mike looked when Tony Danza began to molest the cup in embarrassing fashion. To his credit Mike didn't say anything, but was obviously uncomfortable. Tony Danza, to his credit, picked up on it. Did Tony stop fondling the Stanley Cup? No. Instead, with his bare hands still on the cup, he told Mike that it was ok because he used to drink out of the cup when he partied with Chris Chelios (famous hockey player). Mike became red in the face. I turned off the TV.

So, to answer my above question, what kind of self aggrandizing jerk makes unwanted advances to members of his security detail, uses his crappy talk show to praise his previous crappy shows, and blatantly molests the Stanley Cup? David Hasselhoff. That's right, in my opinion Tony Danza has sunk to the level of "The Hoff" himself. The guy might as well make a Christmas dance mix album and market it in Poland.

My final question is this. How does The Tony Danza Show stay on the air? Who watches this crap? The crowd seemed to be made up of gay men and grumpy middle aged women. None of them looked happy. I wonder what contest they lost to get tickets. Seriously, the set and Danza's demeanor seems very geared towards the Oprah crowd, but does the Oprah crowd want to see the Stanley Cup? Doubt it. That's very much a guy thing. Also, who exactly cares what TV shows Tony Danza watches in the morning? Who isn't disturbed by the fact that he watches reruns of his old shows (and loves them)? Those shows sucked. Perhaps the most disturbing thing about the whole ordeal is how much it actually disturbed me. Yeah, I'm still ticked over 24 hours later. Maybe that puts me on the level of "The Hoff."

The Agony Of The Workday Mind.

My overstuffed coworker has advised me that we only have 1 hour and 50 minutes of work left! Well Yipee. He might as well have told me that we have 3 months left. 1 hour and 50 minutes with nothing to do but listen to him drone on about "The Leola Massacre." Don't get me wrong, six bodies found in one house is downright notable (at least FOX, CNN, and MSNBC think so), but it is too darn nice outside to worry about such things. My baby blue cycle is sitting at home just waiting for me. Today was supposed to be a gym day, but it would be a crime against humanity to lock myself away in that dungeon today. Its supposed to rain tomorrow. I can go to the gym then. Today I go on the hunt for the Fluorescent Flock. Who are the Fluorescent Flock? I will tell you.

Two days ago I took Pearl out for her final shakedown ride. We went for a gentle cruise on my favorite riding route down past TMI. I had finally dialed in the last minor adjustments and old Pearl was running fine. All that winter work is proving worthwhile as that bike is surprisingly fast. Anyway, I cruised along the river and past TMI (still haven't absorbed any super powers from that place, Gosh!). Before I knew it I had blown nearly half and hour and turned around to head home. After blasting down a hill at what I estimated to be close to 50 mph my eyes were blinded by a ghastly bright greenish light some distance ahead heading towards me. At first I thought I was seeing a UFO (Three beautiful glowing orbs!), but as the object drew nearer I could see that it too was riding some type of bicycle. Someone else had absorbed super powers from TMI!! Jerks! As we drew nearer together the object ahead of me split into two, and then three. It was then that I became aware that I was not seeing anything super natural at all. What I was seeing was three cyclists wearing identical long-sleeved fluorescent green shirts. As the three drew closer, two of them split off and turned onto a side road ahead of me, while the third continued in my direction. Now you must understand that I am a firm opponent of all forms of cycling snobbery. I give a friendly wave to all cyclists I meet on rides regardless of skill or style. In that spirit, as my green glowing compatriot approached, I extended my hand in a friendly wave, and was promptly snubbed. As much as I hate snobbery, I will occasionally accept it from someone riding riding a $3,000 Italian bike with shaved legs. By no means will I accept it from someone who wears a matching fluorescent jersey with his friends. I suppose that the appropriate response would have been to chase him down and make him sorry for not waving, but traffic was a bit too heavy for a quick u-turn, and it is a bit early in the season to risk life and limb over simple revenge. Instead I came up with a new punishment for that brightly colored snob. His friends would pay.

I pushed hard onto the side street and could see the fluorescent glow off on the horizon. "Don't fail me now," I quietly whispered to Pearl as I hammered away on her pedals. The glow began to get larger, and larger. Soon I could make out the riders. The one in front was a girl, but regardless, they both had impressive calves, and made me wonder if this was such a good idea after all. Then I noticed something that made me want to laugh out loud. They had rearview mirrors attached to the ends of their handle bars. Fluorescent green jerseys and rearview mirrors? I had stumbled across the cycling equivalent of Harry Potter fans! I was going to crush these nerds. I quietly slipped up behind them and matched their pace. The girl began to wave for me to pass with her hand. Wait. . . no. She was waving for an approaching car to pass. The car was still far off though. Ha!! She had opened the window for my assault. I danced on Pearl's pedals as I sailed by the duo. They faltered in surprise and could only watch as I turned off at the next intersection. Ah, sweet revenge.

So now my bloated coworker is instructing me to ignore a written government directive because somebody told him that somebody told them that we don't do that anymore. I hope I find the Fluorescent Flock again today because they are gonna get shredded.