DOWN WITH PANTS!

First a question - Ted, have you read the book The Areas of My Expertise by John Hodgeman yet? You would really dig it. It is like reading a book version of Narnarnarnar. Excellent!

Now we move onto the Best of DWP! - 2005 - August through October.

In August I discovered that little people kind of scare me...

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I have to say, Dwarves (or little people if we are acting PC) creep me the fuck out. I have never personally met even one midget so the majority of my experiences have been from television. Thus, for the most part, I have only ever seen them acting crazy. I will always have the image of Bushwick Bill jumping on that guy and beating the shit out of the pavement in the Ghetto Boy's "My Mind is Playing Tricks On Me" video. Or Verne Troyer drunk and naked on the Surreal Life. Or Tom Cruise jumping around on a couch during Oprah. Midgets acting crazy, that is what I know.

In fact, on Sunday I was in Hollywood and we were roaming around outside of the Hollywood and Highland Center where all the freaks dress up in costume and we came across Chucky slashing children's throats. Seriously, there was a midget dressed up in a Chucky costume walking around and approaching children from behind and putting the knife right up to their necks and laughing his ass off. If I was a child I would have nightmares for the rest of my life of this lunatic. But since he was a cute little Dwarf dressed up in costume, nobody seemed to mind.

I guess, the point of this post is to urge everybody to treat Dwarves or Little People or Midgets or whatever just like everybody else. If a Dwarf sneaks up on your child and puts a knife to his throat, don't laugh, punch the dude right in the mouth. If Verne Troyer starts peeing all over the place, lock that little shit in a bathroom. If Tom Cruise starts mouthing off to you about Scientology, kick him in his wee itty bitty groin.

Midgets are people just like you and me, and just like a lot of normal sized people, some of them deserve a good ass kicking. But before you do pick on a midget remember Bushwick Bill beating up the pavement because some of those little fuckers can probably fight better than you. Except for that pussy Tom Cruise, you don't have to worry about him.

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In September I started playing softball again after five years off. It didn't go very well...

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What are the three worst things you can possibly do? I think I have the answer...

1. Choke a dude to death with your bare hands.
2. Eat a newborn baby for sport.
3. Strike out swinging in slow-pitch softball.

Well, one down, two to go. That's right, tonight, I choked a dude to death with my bare hands! Ok, that isn't true, although I kind of wish I had because I wouldn't feel nearly as bad as I do now. I struck out in slow-pitch softball. In fact, I struck out in slow-pitch softball...Twice!!!

There is perhaps nothing more embarrassing than swinging and missing a ball lobbed to you specifically so you can hit it a mile. Slow-pitch softball is a sport designed so that nobody ever has to strike out. And yet, I thought I could take on god himself, who had a hand in designing this sport, and turn slow-pitch softball inside-out.

I have only played softball maybe four times in the last five, maybe even six years and needless to say I am out of practice. So it's kind of understandable that I struck out my first time at bat. In my second at bat I grounded out to third and in my third at bat I hit the ball about as hard as you can but the third baseman made an outstanding play to rob me of a double. In the bottom half of the sixth inning, with the game on the line down by two runs with two men on and two outs, I managed to swing and miss again. This time it was totally inexcusable.

So tomorrow, instead of watching my Bowling Green Fighting Falcons beat up on the Boise State Broncos on the gridiron after work, I need to find myself some batting cages and take about 100 swings to get my timing back before my next game on Thursday for a coed team. It's one thing to strike out in front of a bunch of guys, but it's something totally different to do it with girls around.

Or maybe I'll just stay home and eat myself some baby. It's probably more enjoyable than striking out in slow-pitch softball.

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In October I got pissed off at undercover homophobes...

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Today, Houston Comets forward Sheryl Swoopes came out of the closet and announced that she was gay. I think it is great for her that she has decided to not be worried about this any more and live her life like she wants, just like all of us heteros do everyday.

This announcement caused a little bit of talk on ESPN Radio today, most of which was the typical male response, "lesbians in the WNBA, what a big surprise, isn't the whole league lesbian?" Or the typical dismissing and marginalizing all women athletes in general.

But what really pissed me off, and the argument that pisses me off more than anything when people try to talk about homosexuality, is the whole "I don't want to hear about your sexuality. We don't flaunt our heterosexuality, why do gays come out and flaunt their homosexuality?" This is what ESPN's Colin Cowherd argued this morning about the announcement while still trying to remain un-homophobic.

That is the most retarded and ignorant argument ever argued about anything. Virtually every single moment of the day is taken up with the flaunting of heterosexuality. You can't go more than five feet without someone talking about their wife, husband, boyfriend or girlfriend, or the chick or dude that they think is so fucking hot, or seeing an ad obviously targeted at heterosexuals, or you see some intensely high levels of hetero PDA. But when one person comes out of the closet, it's "oh, they should just keep that to themselves."

Heterosexuality is shamelessly promoted at every single turn. Sometimes you hear homophobes say "if they can have a gay pride parade, why can't we have a straight pride parade?" You know why? Because every single day is a straight pride parade on every street corner, on every television station, in every office, at every shitty nightclub. How often do we really see gay culture face-to-face? Maybe once or twice a day at the most?

If you are going to make this argument, then the only way I can respect your opinion is if you practice what you preach. Try going through your life without ever being affectionate in public with your significant other or even mentioning them to anyone else. Try changing your mannerisms or dress to look less hetero than you currently do. Try not playing slowpitch softball because it is too "straight".

Just try to be an un-sexual being like you are asking gays to be, I would love to see how miserable you would be at it. If you can't, well then you have to stop using that argument because it is bullshit and makes you a homophobe even if you don't want to be. You are just going to have to get over it and enjoy your straight to gay ratio of 2880:1 or so.

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Tomorrow we wrap up this this crazy year at Down With Pants! and I couldn't be more excited! Why I don't know, but still, Woo friggin' hoo!

First of all, I want to thank the guys over at Analog Medium for nominating me for Most Humorous Blog in the BoB Awards. It is our first nomination for any of these awards and I am very flattered. So let's bring on the funny with more of the Best of DWP! 2005 - Part Deux. May through July.

In May I got married. It was a big deal. Both Dave at Blogography and Ted at Narnarnarnar helped me out while I was gone on my honeymoon. Ted attended our wedding and wrote a very accurate recap of the weekend....

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Narnarnarnar and Hips-O-Doom had been looking forward to the nuptials of DWP! and Death? for quite some time. While Hips-O-Doom was looking forward to her first stint as a bridesmaid, Narnarnarnar had other plans. He was going to wear something so gorgeous to the reception that it would cause a mind-bending sensation that curved the fabric of space-time and echoed down through the ages. A nuclear holocaust of fashion, if you will.

In preparation for this, he started shopping for his getup weeks in advance. The bottom was a no-brainer: a jewel encrusted Utilikilt with a seven foot tall fan of peacock feathers extending from the backside, making it look like a shredded, Paul Bunyan-scale CD was exploding from his butt. The top was more of a problem. Narnarnarnar did not want to force it, so he wandered the department stores and thrift stores, waiting for it all to click.

Deep in the back of American Eagle, he found it. It was given to him by a withered old Chinese man who looked a little like Pat Morita, and little like the guy from the beginning of Gremlins. He opened a black onyx steamer trunk covered with deep claw marks, and supernatural yellow light spilled out. There it was. A fiber optic mesh shirt.

Narnarnarnar and Hips-O-Doom arrived in Seattle without incident, save for the stares, strip searches and questions regarding dubious patriotism that Narnarnarnar had to undergo when airport security saw what he was going to wear to Love-A-Palooza 2005.

"Fascists," Narnarnarnar grumbled as they exited the airport and merged onto I-5.

Hips-O-Doom had not yet seen the getup, but Narnarnarnar was eager to model it for her in the hotel room. He came twirling out of the bathroom, the peacock feathers slashing the wallpaper and the fiber optics unambiguously revealing his total lack of torso muscles.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" he said. Moisture started streaming from her eyes. "Are those tears of joy or tears of jealousy?" he asked with a sneer.

"I think my eyes are bleeding," Hips-O-Doom responded.

At the gates of Love-A-Palooza 2005, Narnarnarnar was met by six very deadly looking bridesmaids dressed in dark, fluid red. They were holding cricket bats, a large spool of duct tape, and a dozen Sharpie markers. He turned to Hips-O-Doom for an explanation, but she had already silently left his side and joined the other six.

Minutes later, he was wrapped in a silver cocoon of duct tape, with a small gap left for his eyes. An extremely convincing image of a tuxedo was drawn over it like some sort of optical illusion. He was then wrestled into a seat next to three other similar looking cocoons. His peacock feathers had been plucked bald and placed in the hair of the bridesmaids: war trophies.

"Stop wriggling," the Maid of Honor growled at him and raised the cricket bat menacingly. He stopped.

When Death? finally made her entrance, a hush fell over the guests and Narnarnarnar's heart sank. It was clear he would never echo down through the ages. Instead he was doomed to forever play Hector to Death?'s Achilles. He leaned back in his chair and waited for the dancing to begin. He would waggle his heartbreak away long into the night.

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Still thinking about the wedding in June, I made an interesting discovery on our marriage license...

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Well, if it isn't my arch-nemesis Down With Pants! and
his new wife Death? to whom I'm fairly indifferent...

Holy Crap! I was just looking at our marriage license and noticed something very peculiar. The signature on the line for the Snohomish County Auditor is that of Bob Terwilliger, AKA Sideshow Bob. How cool is that? That Bob sure is prolific. He has tried to kill Selma, framed Krusty, been elected mayor of Springfield, tried to kill Bart numerous times and has landed on his feet once again as the Snohomish County Auditor. Good for you Bob and thank you for making our marriage official! Now about all of those new Bart killing policies...

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And in July I started to write letters to people who pissed me off, including this one to my favorite neighbor...

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Dear Skank That Lives Downstairs:

Shut the fuck up! We have lived above you for a month and a half now and have been awakened by your drunk ass and whatever nasty fucking guy you bring home at least five times and have had to listen to you ranting and raving on the phone countless more times. I'm sick and tired of all the drama.

3:30 in the morning is not an acceptable time to yell at the top of your lungs at that foul boyfriend of yours. I don't need to hear you yell "fuck" at him one hundred times in two minutes. I don't need to hear you drunkenly accuse him of every crazy fucking thing under the sun. And when you have your angry makeup sex, for god's sake close your window! The neighborhood does not need to hear the spanking, the screeching and most of all, the finishing groan by that douche bag that is laying on top of you. If I find that I am sterile in the future, I will be suing your ass. Millions and millions of my boys may have lost the will to live and you are to blame.

If you start screaming at the top of your lungs that late again I will have to assume that you and that douche bag are fighting and I will be forced to call the cops. Maybe the police stopping by because of a report of suspected domestic violence will get your skank ass to shut the fuck up.

Peace and love, you dirty drunken whore,

First of all, I want to wish everybody a belated Merry Christmas! Death? and I had a great Christmas Day spending 16 hours at a completely sold out Disneyland. It was a lot of fun, not nearly as stressful as we expected and, this is going to sound really cheesy but here we go anyway, very magical.

Also, I want to thank my Secret Santa, Dizzy Scorpio, for her gift. I loved it! Thank you very much!

Now that Christmas is over it is time for the obligatory Best of Lists. Since I have gained a lot of new readers late in the year I thought it would probably be good to recap our year here at DWP! and bring to you the best of DWP! - 2005.

In January I discovered something amazing about myself...I'm Magic!

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Friday morning I brought a Diet Cherry Coke with me to work. I drank a little bit more than half of it before setting it on my workstation and forgetting about it. We had a leak in the roof above our area and had to move a bunch of boxes around so that our building manager could figure out the problem.

While moving these boxes I must have bumped my workstation ever so slightly and knocked my soda over. I went to the restroom and did some other work and about half an hour later I returned to my workstation and was stopped dead in my tracks by what I found...

Completely freaked out I ran into the other room and yelled at my coworkers to come see what I found. Everybody accused me of setting it up and didn't believe that it could just happen randomly.

Of course this phenomenon is easily explained. But before you start spouting off some kind of scientific crap about center of gravity and whatnot, let me set you straight. It obviously was Magic. I must be magic. There really is no other explanation. These powers that I possess are strong. So you'd best not cross me or else you might find yourself a victim of my magic just like this can of Diet Cherry Coke.

"Please squander my money! Please squander my money!"

I have a weird fascination with televangelists and one of my favorites over the past few years has been Benny Hinn. I love watching his crusades and revivals on TBN despite my hatred of everything that he believes in and preaches. He is just such an amazing showman and such an amazing shyster and it's incredible to see him put a spell on everybody that he preaches to. I just marvel at the incredible amount of lying and cheating, the incredible opulence that surrounds Benny in everything he does, the amazing hypocrisy in his preaching and the power that he holds over people despite all of this.

So imagine my excitement when I found out about a two hour special on Dateline NBC about Benny that aired last night. I almost missed the entire thing and only saw the final 30 minutes or so, but even in that half hour I was totally blown away at what a gigantic douche bag Benny Hinn is.

Wow. Watching him for years I understand that he is just an awful person who tricks people into believing that he is healing them. But faith healers have been around forever in virtually every religion. This game is nothing new. But the way that he spends and spends and spends the church's money and lies about where the donations are going is criminal and rivals even the worst of all of the corporate scandals of the last few years.

I'm not a religious person but sometimes I wish that there is a Hell solely for people like Benny Hinn that use spirituality and God as a weapon (and a shield) in their quest to become rich and powerful. He is a predator of the most manipulative kind who preys on people who need God in their lives but end up with a false prophet named Benny, better know to you and me as Pastor Douche Bag.
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And in April we elected a new Pope, so let us continue the sacrilege...

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"HOW WE LIVIN' VATICAN CITY! HABEMUS PAPAM BITCHES!!! C-LAW...LET'S KICK IT!

Uh, uh, aaaaaaaahhhh yeah...

Just throw your hands in the A-yer and wave 'em like ya just don't cay-yer and if you like fish and grits and all that pimp shit somebody say oh yay-yer.

The clinic, the clinic, the clinics on fire! The clinic, the clinic, the clinics on fire...
we don't need no water let the muthafucka burn, burn abortion clinic, burn!

Somebody Sing Oh la, oh la ay...Oh la, oh la ay!
Oh la, oh la ay...Oh la, oh la ay!

I wanna hear ya say We don't need no condoms, come on...We don't need no condoms!
I can't hear you! We don't need no condoms...We don't need no condoms!

(Benedict starts doing the Ed Lover dance)
Go Benny! Go Benny! Go, go, go Benny!
Go Benny! Go Benny! Go, go, go Benny!

I wanna hear the ladies say AIDS is for the wicked...AIDS is for the wicked!
Come on ladies, say AIDS is for the wicked...AIDS is for the wicked!

After mass it's the after mass party and, after the party it's St. Peter's lobby and, after the lobby ya gotta freak an alter boy's body and...

Now somebody, anybody, everybody SCREAM!!!....AHHHHHHH!!!

HOLY SEE UP IN THE PLACE TO BE...PEACE BITCHES, I'M OUT!

This will probably be one of the worst all-time Down With Pants! posts for my average reader, but a godsend for all of those hopeful college basketball google searchers everywhere.

But if you didn't already know, I am a college basketball freak. I especially love mid-major college basketball programs and smaller. And one thing that I have been keeping an eye out for for years has been jerseys from these smaller college basketball teams.

So I embarked on a journey to find some of these jerseys for sale online (about a month too late, I would have loved a Rider jersey for Christmas!) and found that very few sell them. So without further adieu, I bring you the mid-major college basketball jerseys that I could find for sale online...

Binghamton Bearcats - $29.98 - Small through 2XL
Bucknell Bison - $40 - Small through 3XL
Butler Bulldogs - $50 - Medium through 2XL
Charlotte 49ers - $39.98 - Small through XL - kind of crappy though
Cleveland State Vikings - $50 - Small through XL
Dayton Flyers - $40 - XL through 4XL (add $2 for XL-4XL)
Detroit Mercy Titans - $59.95 - Medium through 3XL - Willie Green throwback
Gonzaga Bulldogs - $50 - Small through 2XL
Montana Grizzlies - $50 - Small through 2XL
North Dakota Fighting Sioux - $45.23 - Medium through XL
Pacific Tigers - $44.98 - Small through large (what a bummer, I need a 2XL!)
Rider Broncs - $50 - Medium through 2XL
Sacred Heart Pioneers - $50 - Small through 2XL
Saint Louis Billikens - $79.98 - Small through XL
Saint Mary's Gaels - $55 - Medium through 2XL (add $4 for 2XL)
Sam Houston State Bearkats - $79 - Customizable! Link is to a PDF file. Not sure if these are still available though.
Utah State Aggies - $49.95 - Small through 2XL

If you know of more jerseys online please email me at downwithpants@gmail.com.

It's been a crazy week already, so I apologize for the lack of posts. Hopefully I'll get onto a better schedule soon and will get to some of the great Ask The Pantsless Pontificate questions that I got.

In the meantime I bring you a candidate for the Worst Christmas Gift Ever award. That's right, some crappy gift giver may get you a Staples Easy Butto. Perfect for all your extra crap in the house needs. Thanks Santa, you cheap bastard!

Ok, in all fairness to Staples they are donating all proceeds to the Boys and Girls Club of America, so maybe it isn't that bad after all.

I just happened to have Saturday Night Live on as background noise while fooling around on the internet late that night when this hilarious rap caught my attention. One of the best SNL skits in years and years. If you haven't seen it yet click here to check it out. Thanks to YesButNoButYes for directing me to the link.

"So, as a 30-something woman still searching for love, is it okay to ask a guy out? How about if she's dropped several subtle [read obvious] hints that he hasn't picked up on. Does that change the answer? Does the answer change if he is a coworker? How about if I were a hot leggy blonde vs a mousy brown-haired chick with glasses?" - Growing Old Needing A Dude

First let's just deal with the asking a guy out subject because the coworker subject is something totally different.

This is going to sound a little bit backhanded, GONAD, and I'm sorry if it is, but at this point in your life it is time to put aside any bullshit dating customs and get down to business if you are serious about finding love. Grow some balls and ask some dudes out.

Hints don't work. We are clueless to hints, even the most obvious ones. Hell, even straight up asking a guy out doesn't necessarily mean he'll get the hint. I was asked out on a date once and I guess I turned the girl down, but didn't even realize I had been asked out until almost five years later when a mutual friend made a joke about it. If I remember right the question was worded oddly or made in a weird context and I thought she was making a general reference and not really making a serious inquiry.

Point is, men are dumb. At some point, women have to push the subject on us and not let us act like idiots in the face of the obvious. Ask your boy out, and if he is turned off by your directness and clings to this outdated idea of the traditional rather than the possibility of something good than fuck him, he ain't for you.

Now onto the other two parts of the equation. Speaking strictly as a male, GONAD, I can honestly say that every man wishes that a hot leggy blonde would just walk up to them and ask them out. But you are the one who is going to do the asking and homeboy probably won't get that same proposition from a hot leggy blonde anytime soon so unless he has a mental disorder and will only accept propositions from hot leggy blondes, it is a moot point.

As for the coworker business, one of the top places to meet someone of the opposite sex is at work. It is a prime socializing location. Hell, for some of us it is the only socializing you do all day. But you have to determine what the office politics are like at your job for yourself. I have no idea. Every office is different.

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"What should I demand from my husband in exchange for the BJs? I'm not giving those up for free, yo." - For Every Lewd Lick And Touch I Order Gifts In Rose and Lavender

I can't believe I am giving real advice rather than tongue-in-cheek crap like I intended but I have a real answer for this question too.

In this case, FELLATIO GIRL, men can take a hint. A blowjob is the ultimate hint. Men are not stupid when it comes to a BJ.

When your husband does something you like and you want it to happen again you have to reward him with a surprise suck. A blowjob that comes completely out of the blue.

He will then review his entire day to figure out where this came from. Most likely he will try to replicate everything that he did for you that day until he hits upon the one thing that did the trick. When he hits upon that you must give him another BJ.

Soon enough he will be trained. You will get what you want all the time. Probably too much. You must then stop and train him to do something else. You can't confuse him by trying for two different things at the same time either. Don't get greedy.

If that doesn't work then you should demand cash or merchandise. You're not a prostitute if the man is your husband.

***More of your questions to come later in the week. If you want to Ask The Pantsless Pontificate scroll down the page two posts or email me at downwithpants@gmail.com

Today my week and a half vacation came to an end.

After being laid off last Wednesday my prospects felt bleak. My hopes waned. Christmas felt like it was ruined. My unemployment benefits were up in the air. There were no good jobs listed anywhere. College basketball was the only thing that could cheer me up.

Luckily, Craigslist came through and I found one promising job listing. I then half-heartedly applied for a couple more jobs to get up to my state mandated three job contacts for the week. With only one real iron in the fire it felt like I could possibly go well into the new year without a job.

But that one Craigslist listing paid out. I had an interview on Wednesday, another interview this morning, and was then offered the position this afternoon. The process was quick, easy and I came out smelling like a rose with a job that will pay me more money with a more stable company with great benefits. I'm still a little shocked at how things turned out.

I always somehow land on my feet despite myself. Things always work out for the best. I'm never sure how it happens, but it does and I couldn't be more thankful for the really good luck that always manages to follow the bad luck in my life.

HOLY SHIT! Would Peter Jackson please just take it easy on everybody. He has totally blown every other movie straight out of the water with King Kong. It was such an incredible movie that words do not do it justice. So get your ass down to the theater - If you are in or around LA, I highly recommend seeing it at the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood, that's where we saw it tonight - and get ready to have your world rocked. And don't feel weird about cheering along, everybody in the theater during our showing did.

After we saw the best movie ever made (seriously, I think it is a possibility) we went to the DWP Light Festival at Griffith Park. I'm very flattered by all of the attention from the City of Los Angeles, I guess my little blog has come a long way. What's that? Department of Water and Power? What do they have to do with anything?

I have always wanted to be an advice columnist. I don't know why. I just really want to help people. It is my calling to do good and now I offer my services to you, my faithful reader. I care, I really do, and I swear that I will give you good, helpful advice that I think we all can learn something from.

So please, if you need some advice, fill out the form below and hit "Ask It" and I will gladly do my best to give you the help you so sorely need. And if you want to remain anonymous, that's fine. You don't have to fill out the whole form. Just give me some kind of snappy name like Dan Savage always has.

UPDATE: Come on people, drop me a question or two. It doesn't have to be groundbreaking stuff here. It doesn't have to be a serious problem or anything. Just fill out the form quickly on your way through (blog explosioners, it won't take more than 30 seconds, I swear). I just need some questions to work with here. By the way, it's an email form. Your question will be emailed straight to me and not posted directly on the site or anything.

Over on the right hand side of Down With Pants! underneath the blogroll is my new tenant for Blog Explosion's Rent My Blog. Miss Ann Thrope has a very nice blog that you should check out real quick, plus she is paying me good credits to be a part of the Down With Pants! experience so hopefully she will get her money's worth. If not Miss Ann, I am really sorry.

Now that I am unemployed I have the opportunity to watch the greatest game show of all time, The Price Is Right, featuring what should be the oldest man on the face of the earth, Bob Barker. I haven't watched The Price Is Right in years so I am having to get used to the inflated prices of the prizes. I remember when $6,000 was a high bid for a showcase.

Today's show featured a blue-eyed, blonde haired young man by the name of Aryan who won himself a car. Aryan? As in aryan race or aryan nation? This sounds like a word that should be avoided at all costs especially if you are naming your whiter-than-white baby boy.

Just like the swastika the name Aryan has another, more noble, Eastern religious meaning but was unjustly used by the Nazis. But that still doesn't make it ok as a baby name. You don't hear the last name Hitler anymore and maybe you shouldn't hear the first name Aryan anymore.

Unless the kids name is Aryan Hitler. That's a double negative and they cancel each other out.

So congratulations Aryan Hitler on your big win on The Price Is Right! You will look sharp driving the streets of Sandpoint, Idaho in that little number.

On Wednesday morning I got laid off from my job. Great! Two weeks before Christmas and my income source has dried up and I haven't bought shit. I have been in a serious funk since then. Depressed and bored isn't a good combination at all. But I found the one thing that can really cheer me up in no time at all. A college basketball tripleheader!

That's right, this morning I left Ventura at 9:30 AM to go to the Arrowhead Pond in Anaheim to see the Washington Huskies take on the New Mexico Lobos at noon, UCLA versus Nevada at 2:30 and then a quick jaunt up to Westchester to see Loyola Marymount face USC at 7:00. I just got back at 10:45.

Seeing this Huskies team beat the Lobos 81-71 in the first game of the John Wooden Classic cheered me up right away, even though they didn't play great. New Mexico had a great shot to knock them off cutting a huge deficit to one point with eleven minutes left but Hans Gasser, of all people, got them out of their funk.

I can't believe what I am about to say, but I think it is possible that this years Husky team could potentially be a better, more complete team than last years squad. They don't have an explosive, exciting player like Nate Robinson and their backcourt is inexperienced and that showed this afternoon, but every other position is improved and more balanced. I am psyched to see them later in the season at USC and UCLA.

The UCLA/Nevada game was exciting for the first half but got out of control late and turned out to be kind of a yawner with UCLA winning 67-56 in the final game of the Wooden Classic. But the game was worth it if only to give John Wooden a standing ovation late in the game. For a big college hoops fan like me, even though I don't care for UCLA, seeing John Wooden in person was an honor.

But the game of the day was saved for last. It was homecoming at Loyola Marymount and it seemed like the entire student body showed up drunk and rowdy. Gersten Pavilion, which is kind of a dump - but a very lovable dump, was electric with crosstown big-wig rival USC in the gym.

USC led the game by as many as 15 but the Lions buckled down defensively and the USC lead was only two with 11 seconds left and the Lions with the ball. Wes Wardrop curled past a screen and had a wide open look at a three pointer, a shot he couldn't pass up no matter if you were playing for the tie or not, and just barely missed giving USC the 71-69 victory. USC was lead by Gabe Pruitt's 36 points. How USC is 5-2 is beyond me. Just wait until conference play, they are going to have a rough time.

Screw not having a job. It's college basketball season! The most wonderful time of the year. Or is that Christmas? Noooo, it's college basketball season for sure. How can I be depressed at a time like this?

Everybody knows Dookie. Everybody knows "Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)". Everybody has heard the hell out of American Idiot this year. But for my money, the best album that Green Day has made to this date is their 2000 release Warning, an album that does an amazing job of mixing punk rock with stripped down melodies a la the Beatles and the best lyrics they have written.

This album was overlooked by many simply because it didn't have a good radio single. "Warning" is a great song, but it doesn't have a solid radio hook that could attract the masses. The album's first single and most popular song was "Minority", lyrically an immature sounding song that doesn't fit on such a mature themed album.

But the lack of singles oriented songs are what make this album great. All the songs deal with complex issues of growing into full-on adulthood and the optimism and pessimism that goes along with that growth. All of the songs sound youthful and playful but mature and strong and work perfectly with the subject matter to paint a picture of the growth that they are experiencing. .

I think that this album hit home with me because it was that same growth that I myself was experiencing at the time. No song necessarily spoke to my situation directly, it just sounded like my situation. Your mid-20's are a weird time. You feel very young, but are expected to start being an adult. That is what this album sounds like to me and is why it remains one of my favorites to this day.

The second podcast from Down With Pants! is now available. Just like the first one, it features about an hours worth of fun and exciting music that I think you will enjoy all hosted by me, Brandon himself. All you have to do is add the following URL into your favorite podcasting thingy and give it a listen...

http://www.switchpod.com/users/downwithpants/feed.xml

The good news is that this time I was able to get it to appear as one file rather than broken into two. The bad news is that the sound quality is still a little shitty. I'm not particularly happy with Audacity yet, but hopefully I will figure it out and make it sound better soon.

To address the complaint by Ted that he wanted to see the names of the songs as they were playing I went ahead and created a playlist for the show. But you have to click here to check it out.

Please let me know what you think. Your feedback is always welcomed here at Down With Pants! so feedback away. Thanks!

Continuing on with sacrilege and blasphemy week here at Down With Pants! I bring to you yet another installment of Guys I Might Go Gay For.

Now, I know what you are saying. Yuck! Pat Robertson and Benny Hinn? I'm with you. They are about the worst two men in the world to go gay for. These two douchebags might be the worst candidates for gay sex ever. Hell, they might be the worst candidates for straight sex ever. How anybody could ever touch them is a mystery to me.

But they both believe that gays are going straight to Hell. It is because of that belief that I might be willing to take one for the team and, if their beliefs are correct, keep them out of Heaven. I might be going to Hell too, but at least I would take them down with me.

Although I think that God would understand. He might not have wanted them in Heaven in the first place but couldn't quite find the loophole to send them down to Hell. I might be greeted in Heaven as a hero. Wouldn't that be great!