The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

965 - Erin Andrews

I know it might seem odd that I would be making this entry into the Definitive 1000, what with this and all, but rest assured this was not my idea.

I won't argue that she's not hot, but she is still a sideline reporter, and therefore my sworn enemy.

But when the Mighty Malagan sends you this email:

Here’s my entry. Simply stated, just paste the link. Great song too!!! The 1:30 mark sums it all up

You don't argue.

So here is the Mighty Malagan's latest guest post and yet another enshrinement into The Definitive 1000.

New Sport of Kings: SpiderManHeadBall

Growing up with a younger brother, the Mighty Malagan, we spent a lot of time inventing new games to play. They pretty much all involved physical pain and blocking a goal of some sort.

There was the game we played where one of us stood on the sidewalk with a tennis ball and tennis racket and tried to hit any part of the front of our rancher with the ball while the other played "goalie" and tried to block it.

There was the game where we piled all the sofa cushions and pillows at the end of the hallway and the goal was for one of us to run as fast as possible at the other, who blocked the cushiony pile, to try to get to the end of the hall.

There was the game where we put Mylec street hockey pads, a winter coat stuffed with pillows, a waffleboard, a baseball mitt and a street hockey goalie helmet on the Malagan, gave him a broom to hold and whaled lacrosse balls at him from close range.

There was the game we played in the basement of the duplex with mini hockey sticks and buckets for goals which morphed into the game in my bedroom with the IKEA desk as the goal and mini hockey sticks. And fighting. Mini hockey sticks, but full size hockey fights.

And of course, the aforementioned Suicide.

So, where am I going with this? Well, the Jewbaccas and the Sweatys just returned from a vacation to the seashore. The house we stayed in had a pool.

And what better way to spend a summer afternoon, evening, night than in the pool of a rented house playing SpiderManHeadBall??

What is that you say? Imagine water polo without the swimming, the skill, the stamina, or any of the athletic ability.

Imagine two large slightly idiotic, mostly immature mid-30 year old men winging this:



At each other from one end of a small pool to the other. In the dark. Wearing our glasses. In the pool.

I know you're all asking, why is this game called "SpiderManHeadBall?" Very simply, the ball we used was not the one pictured, since I can't find any pictures of it. The ball we used looked exactly like Spider Man's head and was also a ball so there you have it.

The object of this game was quite simply to wing the ball from the shallow end to the deep end, ostensibly to try and score on a goal made of Adirondack chairs on their sides.

For those of you who would like to try and replicate this game in their own pool, here is a picture showing the top two athletes at SpiderManHeadBall in an officially sanctioned SpiderManHeadBall pool:

Sweaty and Jewbacca playing SpiderManHeadBall. Or not. Possibly discussing who would have to go into the jungle on the other side of the fence to retrieve the SpiderManHeadBall and deciding that just floating in the pool drinking beer was a better option...

Mostly the game consisted of firing the SpiderManHeadBall in a fashion that sent it skipping on the water where it would conveniently disappear amongst the trillions of drops of water that splashed onto ones glasses causing them to not see the SpiderManHeadBall until a millisecond before impact. The goal is the two green chairs on their side at the end there in the picture. There was also a vicious suction vent at heel level at the bottom where the goalie stood making things all the more interesting as well as a million watt pool light that burned the crap out of you when you backed into it.

Good times. The only near major injury was when Sweaty fired one right past Jewbacca and he stupidly turned to see where it went as it came careening off the chairs and smashed him the glasses and mouth. Other than that, happily there were no injuries, alcohol-related or otherwise.

Just two 30-something idiots enjoying vacation. And beaning one another with a small dodgeball. That belonged to a 17 month old.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

968 - The Wachovia Spectrum



It's dumpy. It's small. Its roof wouldn't stay on.

But it is also front and center in so many memories for the Friendly Friends.

The Philly papers and websites are filled with rememberances for the old barn. And they all center on the same few things: Flyers and some basketball teams' championships, Olga Korbut, Bruce, Billy Joel, Christian Laettner's shot and the Grateful Dead.

But those are the party-line, let's shine it up and make it look good memories.

The Friendly Friends would like to celebrate the life of this old building through the eyes of the common man. Not through the eyes of the Comcast PR department. So without further ado, and in no particular order, here are some random thoughts and memories of times spent with the Spectrum.


From Sweaty:

Going to a Philadelphia Phantoms game with FFMatt. The game itself was uneventful. But for the first and only time in my life, I caught a sling shotted t-shirt launched towards us. FFMatt positioned himself in front of me as a pick. The shirt was launched; I reached for it and snagged it with one hand! Yes! I rule! The guy behind me did take a chunk of skin out of my hand with his disturbingly long fingernails, but it was worth it. The shirt, I wore until it disintegrated. There were also two tickets to a future Phantoms game inside the shirt. To complete the circle, I went to that game with Jewbacca. He and I had seats right behind the goalie. They were little folding seats, and Jewbacca and I are on the larger side, so we decided to go sit up in the cheaper seats.

Is this the guy that scratched Sweaty?

From Jewbacca:

First and foremost, the Spectrum will always mean Flyers hockey to me. Both live and on PRISM (Philadelphia Regional In-Home Sports and Movies). How cool is it that Flyers games from the Spectrum were broadcast exclusively on a cable channel called PRISM? My earliest sports memories with my dad have nothing to do with the usual American, Norman Rockwell baseball scenes. They all involve the Flyers. My dad would get 4 or 5 games a year to go to and he'd take me to one, The Mighty Malagan to one and usually my mom to the others. We'd sit in the first row of the second level and use the ledge in front of us as a table for our sausage sandwiches and sodas. He'd explain the finer points of the game and why we had to whistle every time Ron Duguay touched the puck. He made sure that we left that Nordiques game at the end of the second period with the Flyers down 3-0 since it was a school night. We listened as the Flyers came back to win 4-3 in OT.

We battled about bedtimes when the Flyers were on. Home games meant 7:05 and at least half the game before bedtime at 8:30. They also meant Ed Van Impe from the bowels of the Spectrum interviewing someone between periods who would get a gift certificate to some men's store or a watch. Those intervies dragged for an 8 year old who only had until 8:30!

But seeing the colors in the Spectrum logo at center ice in person, or on PRISM, was always awesome.

My god. That hair. How could you not wolf-whistle at that?

From Sweaty:

The Sixers Dancer I named "Candy". Watching the dreck that was the Sixers at the time, including Jeff Hornacek (AKA K.D. Lang), Jeff Malone and Clarence Weatherspoon was all worth while thanks to that little blonde vixen.

Candy?? Is that you??? Did you get all of my voicemails and text messages? You did? What's this? A restraining order?? Exactly how far is 500 yards anyway....

From FFMatt:

Besides the years of Flyers games and childhood Ringling Brothers Circus experiences, and Wiggles concerts for my kids I was at the Flyers season opener after the strike ended. HUGE pumped crowd, insane energy and it all quickly devolved into E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES chants as the Flyers stunk up the ice with a season opening loss. Back where we belong!

Sweaty will always have Candy and FFMatt will always have these guys...and thousands of drunk idiot Eagles fans.

From Jewbacca:

In sixth grade a new sport dawned into my puberty fevered brain. The Eagle League Pro Box Lacrosse outfit (now the MILL or the MLL or NLL or something) came into existence with the Washington Wave, the Baltimore Thunder, the New York/New Jersey Saints and most importantly the Philadelphia Wings. This was earth shattering to a young Jewbacca. As soon as I was old enough to drive, me and the Malagan would go to the Showcase store (an offshoot of the Spectrum and Spectacor) at the Willow Grove Park Mall and we'd get TicketTron tickets to every single home game the Wings played. We'd usually get two extra and invite friends along. We'd all pile into my 1981 Chevy Impala and cruise down to the Spectrum, blasting our good luck mixtape, which inexplicably contianed 3 songs from Achtung Baby, 3 songs from Queen's Greatest Hits (the blue one) and some other songs long forgotten.

We'd enter the sports mecca and settle in for a couple hours of the best parts of all sports: the hitting and fighting of hockey, the speed of...well hockey again, the high scoring of....well this time I'd have to say early 80's hockey and the shot clock of basketball. We'd scream our lungs out for the Gaits, Dallas Eliuk, John Nostrant, Tony Resch (who incidentally was my buddy Jim's math teacher at Penn Charter), and anyone else wearing the silver and black. We even got to sit next to Chopper at a pre-season Wings/Pittsburgh Bulls game.

Without missing a home game (pre-, regular and post-season) for four years, we still managed to miss all four of the Wings' championships, but did see them lose one to the Buffalo Bandits in OT. We also saw a game called against the Detroit Turbos since every single player on both teams got into a major bench clearing brawl. The Turbos disappeared after that.

This is Chopper. He leads his entire side of the arena in a W-I-N-G-S Wings(!) chant and taunts opposing players coming to the box. He is a god.

From Sweaty:

Going to my first ever Wings game with Jewbacca and his brother Malagan. I had always scoffed at the Wings as a secondary sport, but I was truly entertained and have since been to many games. I was dazzled by the Gait brothers and the sprawling saves of Dallas Eliuk. The Wings, as it turned out were right...I paid for the whole seat, but only used the edge

From Jewbacca:

Fine. You want a basketball memory of the Spectrum? My hatred of basketball notwithstanding, I do have two minor Spectrum related basketball memories. My dad's friend scored Sixers-Celtics tickets in 1984 or 1985. They had four and I guess no one else could use them so the Malagan and I got to go. I remember two things from that night: 1) when my dad's friend drove his Toyota mini-bus/van thing over a cement island to get around a traffic light (red by the way) and 2) walking through the Spectrum lot wearing my Celtics painter's cap that I specifically asked for when my dad was in Boston on business. I hated the Sixers then and since the Celtics were one of their biggest rivals, I'd proudly wear that. Being ten and in South Philly wearing a Celtics hat I was treated exactly as I thought I would be: by having my life endangered by taunting Sixers fans until my dad ripped the hat off my head and pocketed it.

My Celtics painter's cap looked just like this. Except it was a hat and not a hot cheerleader. It was mostly green though.

From Sweaty:

Going to a Sixers game with Mighty Malagan, again, with a horrible Sixers team and sitting close enough to the Sixers bench that they were within earshot. How did I know they were within earshot? Because Jewbacca's brother kept yelling out the name of Rex Walters. Rex Walters could have been up for 12th man of the year in basketball. A poor little white guy who found himself the last man on the bench. Malagan kept calling his name...for 48 minutes. While sitting on the bench, while he stood near the sideline...Malagan called "Rex! Rex Walters!” A fruitless pursuit right? Wrong. Low and behold, the final team timeout of the game, Rex is standing in the team huddle pretending to be paying attention, as if he had anything to do with the play being drawn up. Malagan is still hoarsely yelling his name...then it happens. Rex Walters raises his eyebrows and looks up at Malagan and gives him a head nod acknowledgement. What does Malagan do? He giggles like a school girl and shuts up for the last 40 seconds of the game.

I did a GIS for "Rex Walters." I got a picture of Gemma Atkinson. Which would you have put here?

From Jewbacca:

I saw my first ever concert, the best concert I've ever seen and had the most fun I've ever had at a concert all at the Spectrum.

First concert: Midnight Oil on the Blue Sky Mining tour in 1991. Peter Garrett is a very, very intense man. He did a dive off of the top of a stack of Marshalls during a cover of "What's So Funny 'bout Peace Love and Understanding" that would have killed a mere mortal.

Best concert: Peter Gabriel on the Us tour in 1992 or 1993. Sweaty can back me up on this one, but I think he did three separate encores, the last of which was after the lights and house music came back up. He came out and talked to the crowd for about 5 minutes, thanking Philly for all their support during his career. It was the most theatrical concert I've been to, and also one of the best all-round musically.

Most fun at a concert: Barenaked Ladies, New Year's Eve 1999(98?). Possibly the best stage presence of any band I've ever seen (and I've seen a lot having worked Event Staff security for 4 years at the Tower, the Mann, the Civic Center and even the Spectrum). Sponataneous rapping, unbeliveably strange dancing and a midnight phone call to Kevin Hearn in the hospital back in Toronto to countdown to the new year all made it memorable. Plus, Mrs. Jewbacca got me the tickets for Christmas that year. I had Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in my shoes when I got home!

From Sweaty:

Early in the summer of 1993, I was adjusting to the freedom of now more mandatory formalized education. Released from the shackles of Springfield High school, I was looking forward to the summer of love...or, as it turned out for me, summer of I like you but not in that way.

But before the weekend trips to the Jersey Shore would take place. Before drunken nights passing out in Turkey Clubs (the sandwich, not a night hot spot), before working 1 day in an Ice House and 2 weeks as a beach tagger in Sea Isle City...I and other Friendly Friends such as Jewbacca had to kick the summer off right with my first ever concert! I am proud to say that my first concert ever still holds up as one of my favorites as Peter Gabriel came to town promoting his new album Us. The Spectrum was arockin' that night my friends. Peter Gabriel knew how to put on a show, and he made sure to include Solsbury Hill to appease the Gods. The Gods being me & Jewbacca. As I said, still one of my favorite concerts of all time and the only one I saw at the Spectrum. Pissah was there as well, and shockingly, he found something to complain about. Because he never complains about anything!

So there you have it folks. Some of the Friendly Friends' memories of the Spectrum. Of course there are more, but these are the ones that stand out.

Unfortunately my most recent visit (Phantoms game this past spring) left a bad image for me. They've let the place run down quite a bit. It was clear at that time that they had stopped trying and knew it was only a matter of time before a soul-less, corporate, Disney-like "entertainment" center was built over its grave. I guarantee you, I won't be making that just-long-enough-to-be-extrememly-annoying-not-long-enough-to-risk-my-life-at-Fern-Rock-to-take-the-subway trip to this new complex. Maybe if I'm at the Center or the Bank I'll brave the crowd of annoying South Jerseyans long enough to check it out.

But for the memories it invokes and the times we've spent there, the Friendly Friends are proud to add The Spectrum to the Definitive 1000!

[Feel free to leave your memories in the comments. Thanks to http://www.e-lacrosse.com/ for the picture of Chopper.]

Did you know that "Spectrum" is actually an acronym for Sports-Entertainment-Concerts-Theater-rum. The "rum," as in Auditorium, was all the rage in 1967 for newly built arenas (see Centrum, Worcester)

The Friendly Friends Tackle the NBA Officiating Brouhaha...

Since I hate the NBA and basketball in general, and Sweaty and FFMatt have much better things to do, we've brought in a guest blogger to enlighten us all on the finer points of the possible NBA officiating scandal.

He is none other than the Mighty Malagan.

He emailed me this after much research, soul-searching and other forms of deep introspection. Reprinted below is the entirety of his treatise on the current state of affairs in NBA officialdom. Strap yourselves in....

Guest blogger: Mighty Malagan

Topic: Sports Blog

Recent NBA refereeing scandal: WHO CARES?!?!

I couldn't have said it better myself.

O, Canada...

Dear Canada,

I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for hosting me and the Mighty Malagan this past weekend. We had a great time.

You introduced me to wonderful new food experiences. I had heard of poutine before and was pretty sure it was a joke. French fries, brown gravy and cheese curds layered in a bowl. I have to say, it was beyond delicious.


This is poutine. Strong stuff. Actually it is very, very tasty.

Another gastronomic delight that I had never partaken of was served on both of my cheeseburgers: real Canadian, or peameal, bacon. This stuff is good. In fact it made up for the two scorched burgers you served me. It also made up for the strange dipping sauce you served me with my wings.



I guess "round ham" is not the same as Canadian bacon...

Somehow even your Canadian musical superstars such as Rush, Barenaked Ladies, Tom Cochrane and even Len, sound better rolling down your highways.



It was also very nice of you to replace the apostrophe in Denny's with a maple leaf, so that we wouldn't forget we were visiting you. In fact, you provided this service with just about every international brand store and restaurant. A wonderful service.



As for the hockey, well that was sublime. The GM Centre in Oshawa is a great place to watch a game. And thanks to Paula and Jerry for discussing Generals hockey with us for two games.




And the Peterborough Memorial Centre is no slouch either. A little small inside but not a bad seat in the house.



Who's the hottie?



The Oshawa Generals lost a tough game on Friday to the Belleville Bulls, who are apparently sponsored by Schlitz. The Generals played a total of 80 good seconds of hockey the entire game. On Saturday night, they bounced back against the Peterborough Petes tying the game with 1.2 seconds left and taking it in the shootout. Did I mention their goalie was a call-up from Jr. A and was playing in his first OHL game? On Sunday the Gens put away the Sarnia Sting. But you were there Canada, I don't need to remind you.



The Belleville Schlitzes??

One thing you should learn from us though, you don't need to blast music at every stoppage of play. Especially not "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It." Play some nice organ music. Trust me. It would be nice to be able to talk to the person next to you during a stoppage. Don't make our mistake.

And thanks for hosting the Hockey Hall of Fame. It was sure nice to walk around Toronto wearing my Flyers toque. And it was nice to read the plaque below while wearing the same toque.



Oh yeah, and we found this on the other side of Mr. Clarke. Hopefully we'll be seeing it in person again real soon.



Mr. Horton helped us get moving on our 8 hour overnight drive home.



So thank you Canada. We had a blast.

Yours,
Jewbacca



She is wearing a toque. See if you can spot it.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.

#977 - Tur-Duc-Hen

Ever since I witnessed John Madden karate chop-carve a tur-duc-hen after a Thanksgiving NFL game several years ago, I have been plotting ways to deliver one to my table for one of the turkey/ham axis holidays.

Problem always was, we didn't host any of those feasts.

This year, the Jewbaccas hosted Christmas (only one of us can rightfully claim the Jewbacca mantle) for Mrs. Jewbacca's family and, well darn it all Friendly Friends if the Jewbaccas didn't bring the Tur-Duc-Hen. And bring it strong.

Before you register your outrage over the spelling of Tur-Duc-Hen, get a load of this:



Was it tasty, you ask? Judge for yourself:



From this...



...to this!

It was delicious and incredibly easy to make. It was as good as the combination of chicken, duck, turkey, spicy cornbread filling and rice sounds.

Friendly Friends, I have the distinct privilege of dubbing the Tur-Duc-Hen a knight of the roundtable of the Definitive 1000.

On the other hand, this mess, provided by The Mighty Malagan for Thanksgiving, isn't allowed anywhere near the D 1000.



This culinary Hindenburg was supposed to be a green bean casserole. It did have green beans. Uncooked. With tomato sauce and about a pound of cheddar cheese. It tasted like burning. Sweaty was there. He hasn't been the same since.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.



#983 - Minor League Baseball

In the space of 5 days last week I attended 3 minor league baseball games, in 3 different states, in 3 different leagues and didn't pay for a single ticket. Which is probably why I ended up at 3 games in 5 days. I hadn't been to a single game at all this year, at any level, but last Saturday, Monday and Wednesday solved that right quick.

Last Saturday I found myself in Lancaster, PA with Mrs. Jewbacca, her brother and his fiancee at a Barnstormers game. The Barnstormers play in the independent Atlantic League (which oddly features a team that plays nothing but road games) and are the reigning champs of the league. On Monday I found myself in Lakewood, NJ with the Mighty Malagan at a BlueClaws game. The Blueclaws are the Single-A, South Atlantic League affiliate of the Phightin' Phils -- which explained the presence of Rod "Ole" Barajas and Shane Victorino. Then my odyssey ended on Wednesday in Wilmington, DE at Frawley Stadium with Mrs. Jewbacca, the Blue Rocks and Cooler Bag Night. The Blue Rocks are the Advanced-A affiliate of the Kansas City Royals.

So why does minor league baseball deserve a spot on this here list? Let me count the ways:

Observations From the Minor Leagues

1. There seems to be something with eyeballs.
It started at Lancaster. The fun squad (or whatever they're called there) tossed big beach balls that were decorated to look like eyeballs in the stands. Everyone batted them around and whoever had the one with the winning number on it when the music stopped won a prize. I'm pretty sure it was an eye exam. In Lakewood they actually had a race between three giant eyeballs while the crowd screamed out their favorite between blue, brown and green. I'm not sure which eyeball won, but in the end, we were all winners. True story: The Mighty Malagan has two different colored eyes. He wisely did not root for anyone.

2. Mascots Mascots Mascots
Anyone who knows me knows that I do not, on the whole, like any mascot. Except the Phanatic, and then only from a distance.

Imagine my horror then when we rolled into Lancaster to be confronted by scores of mascots who had been attending a mascot camp in Lancaster. That's right. A mascot camp. I imagined it as a Stalag 17 type of place, where mascots are made to work in a salt mine until their debt to society is paid off. Apparently it is a place to teach mascots how to annoy and harass paying customers. So not only did we have Cylo to contend with, but countless others. Some serous nightmare fuel.

Cylo. No, I have no idea why it's spelled like that. It took me until the 3rd inning to realize it was pronounced "silo." BARNstormers...silo...get it?

In Lakewood we were in a "luxury box." Unfortunately Buster makes visits to every luxury box. I hid. I'm not proud.

That is not a BlueClaw. I know. It's still their mascot though.

In Wilmington they take their mascots pretty seriously. They have Rocky Bluewinkle, Rubble and the famous Mr. Celery. From what I could gather, Rubble just kid of stands around and Rocky Bluewinkle does the obligatory crowd bothering. But Mr. Celery is the star. He has his own section ("C" of course) sponsored by a health food store, his own tunnel and the two main food courts are named for him. His sole reason for existing is to come out and dance every time the Blue Rocks score a run. And dance he does.

Wilmington also has a trio of concession items that run the weakest race in baseball. They "run" from about a third of the way up the first base line, behind home plate and then to about a third of the way to third base. And in that short distance they manage to fall, push each other and generally embarrass themselves.

The best mascot-related happening was when the crowd booed Rocky for shooting a t-shirt into the parking lot. The 700 level at the Vet would have been proud of that one.

One of these things is not like the others, one of these things is doing its own thing...Oh who am I kidding? None of these things are like anything else.

3. I made the Jumbotron/Phanavision/Whatever they call it these days
I have never been featured on the scoreboard at any sporting event I have ever attended. Until last Wednesday in Wilmington. I looked over to the video board after seeing the out of town scoreboard show: TEX 27, BAL 3 and there I was. In giant Jewbacca glory.

I instantly went into the routine I had practiced all these years in case I got the chance to shine. The perfectly choreographed motions that would make the crowd remember me forever, would get me my own deal as a video board staple across the land.

I waved.

4. Reasonable Prices for Food....Familiar Big League Prices for Beer
In all three stadia, food prices were fantastic (actually I don't know how much stuff costs in Lakewood. I was a guest of the Mighty Malagan in a box owned by a certain convenient bank. Didn't pay for a thing there.) and I ate like a king. But beer? Holy cow. Beer was still in the $5-$8 range.

5. Secretive Religious Orders
Doesn't really have anything to do with minor league baseball per se, I just found it interesting that on the way to the Barnstormers game we passed Amish farms and horse and buggies. On the way to the BlueClaws we went through an area where there were countless (ok, 28 total) Hasidic Jews on the street and on the way to the Blue Rocks we had to pass through a gauntlet of angry Scientologists.

I made that last one up.

For the above reasons, and also for the fact that the games are quick, the crowds manageable, the stadia easy to navigate and the payers seem to appreciate the attention, I hereby place Minor League Baseball on the Definitive 1000.

The Definitive 1000

We are going to be counting down the Definitive 1000 things. Why are they Definitive? Because The Friendly Friends have deemed them as such.



#991 - NTN Bar Trivia

As you are by now aware gentle reader, The Friendly Friends have undertaken to list the Definitive 1000 things. We alone decide what makes it to the list. But when The Mighty Malagan sent this in, I had to agree that it belongs on this list. Without further ado...THE MIGHTY MALAGAN:

Ode to bar trivia…
Every year, Jewbacca and I trek across state lines to watch junior hockey. That in itself can be a little hard to understand if you don’t follow hockey that close. But this entry does not honor all that is good with junior hockey. This is all about an activity that occurs on the above mentioned trips; bar trivia (And just that NTN trivia, not Quizzo...that's for nerds - Ed.).

This is the type of person that plays Quizzo

These hockey trips allow Jewbacca to feel smart, once a year. The night before the first game (if we are there for 2 games) we always find a local watering hole, either a chain place or a Gippers type venue, for wings, beers, nachos, and TRIVIA. This is when Jewbacca decides its time to embarrass and humiliate the locals, who are usually not among the most worldly and educated people (According to The Mighty Malagan, not Jewbacca). As Jewbacca tries to come up with a cool alias for the scoreboard, he usually finds himself late in the game and in 3rd or 4th place (Do you hve any idea how hard it is to sum up my entire personal mission statement in just six characters?). Not to worry, he has plenty of time to come back and win. And he has managed to do that EVERY TIME. It doesn’t matter if he can’t see the screen, or if his fingers are greasy from Definitive Item #992, he always finds a way to achieve trivia greatness, at the local’s expense. And after this momentous event occurs, the other participants peel themselves away from their mugs of Pabst Blue Ribbon to scan the bar looking for the out of towner who just whooped on them, all the while the both of us usually stick out like a very sore thumb.

So there you have it. #991 from the Malagan. He speaks the truth people.

And since these trips involve watching junior or minor league hockey in far flung locales, I would be remiss if I didn't congratulate the Lewiston MAINEiacs on going 16-1 in the QMJHL playoffs to add a President's Cup Championship to their regular season championship. Good luck in Vancouver!

In Other News, The Nigerian Nightmare is Still Alive

Long ago, before Nigeria was known only for it's high rate of dying princes and other nobility who needed my help in claiming millions of dollars from secret bank accounts, it was known as the birthplace of one Christian Okoye.

And there was no bigger fan of the Nigerian Nightmare than The Mighty Malagan. This kid even wore a fake Chiefs jersey with Okoye's name and number and was the only person in the metropolitan Philly area with a Chiefs Starter jacket.


I asked GIS for "Starter Jacket," and all I got was this lousy picture of the USC Song Girls on vacation in Hawaii

So there will be much celebrating in the Malagan household tonight with this news from The Fanhouse:

On "Pirate Master," 16 contestants will live aboard a 179-foot, square-rigged barque. Over the course of 33 days, they'll live as buccaneers, traveling around a Caribbean island in search of a treasure totaling $1 million. Each episode will find the contestants gathering at Pirate's Court, overseen by host Cameron Daddo, where they'll state their case and somebody will be cut adrift.

And one of those "buccaneers" is slated to be none other than Azusa Pacific's own Christian Okoye (who still holds 13 individual records at the school).

This seems like a terrible idea for a show but more puzzling is....why Christian Okoye of all people? Maybe Lawrence Phillips Ricky Williams was too busy?

Big ups to The Fanhouse, via Deadspin

A Treat For Our Readers....

As the title of this post implies, The Friendly Friends have a special treat for you, since you've been so good today. We have a guest movie reviewer offering his insight into one of American Cinema's finest displays of the filmmaker's craft.

What big name was the Friends able to snag for this assignment? Roger Ebert? David Edelstein? Leonard Maltin? Pauline Kael?

No. We here at The Friendly Friends live by a simple motto: If you're gonna go, go big. So we went big.




Presenting The Mighty Malagan's review of Police Academy 5:

Police Academy 5: Assignment Miami Beach

As you sit back and ponder the all time great movies in American film history, I am sure a few come to mind rather quickly. Among them may be Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, The Godfather, Citizen Kane, and even the Star Wars Trilogy. Well, that list should and must be expanded by one. As I write this testimonial to the wonders of police hi jinks, I can’t help but appreciate perfection. As the “film” begins, Commandant (what the hell is that anyway) Lassard is announcing his retirement. At this point, the whole police force of the fake city is told they are heading to Miami Beach to attend a ceremony at which Lassard will be given a lifetime achievement award. Oh, and to no doubt cause some major chaos!!! What follows in the next 90 minutes or so cannot be described in words. To avoid losing this audience, I will not go into plot details, and the many twists that occur, instead I will focus on a few of the many wonders from this piece of movie making history.

• From the scene in the Miami airport you’ll view a golf bag that has a handle to allow balls to drop from the bottom. Unreal special effects. What do you expect when you have no budget?
• Pre-gambling Janet Jones. Need I say more?

• Matt McCoy before the days of Lloyd Braun, as Nick Lassard, the overconfident and somewhat cocky nephew of Commandant Lassard.

• The predictable, but well executed suitcase mishap. Lassard picked up the wrong one.
• Stereotypical bumbling jewel thieves who may actual be the most inept I have ever seen.
• Tackleberry, Thaddeus Harris, Proctor!!!!, and Jones, the noise making machine.

• A high speed chase aboard big jet ski boat thingy’s, that splash just enough water to merit the wet t-shirt shots of Callahan.

I could write all day, but unfortunately I am not allotted the space I need, or deserve. This movie was full of plot twists, and edge of your seat excitement. And it offers one of the most famous quotes of all time, “Give me, my damn cameraaaaaaaa!”

Makes you proud to be an American, don't it?