The De-Nogginizer

You didn't think that the 4th of July was going to come and go without at least ONE fireworks accident story, did you? That would be impossible. It was just that there were so many to choose from. Did I want to go over a guy that lost some fingers or someone who (inevitably) lost an eye? Sure, those both sound just great, but I was looking for something a little bit more than that. And then, in Fargo, North Dakota, I found what I was looking for.According to something called the Winnipeg Free Press, a one 41-year old Jesse William Burley was de-nogginized while celebrating the Fourth of July with fireworks. OK, I paraphrased there with the term "de-nogginized", but that's exactly what happened. The guy lost his melon.

According to a one Chris Hanson (no relation to the Chris Hansen guy on the television that catches all of the perverts), Mr. Burley was at the trailer park where the two neighbors resided (no shock that this has a trailer park setting) and he being Mr. Burley was "...getting ready to set off a second round of what Hanson said he believed was either a homemade or illegal artillery shell firework." Now, I don't know what an artillery shell firework is, but if it is what it sounds like (that being a firework made out of some sort of an artillery shell), I'm going to guess that it's probably dangerous as hell.

Judging from how the events turned out, that was the case either way. Hanson recalls, "He went over into the middle of the street, and within 10 seconds of us talking to him, he lit it and all we saw was a cloud of smoke, a bang." Presto! (By the way, this story is much better if you imagine the voices with some sort of a Fargo accent. Or Sarah Palin. They both work well here.) Do you see what's coming next? Of course you to. Hanson continued with, "When I walked up to his body, it was nothing but his shoulders down." Holy. Crap. Yeah, that's one way to put it. Well, we heard all the time when we were growing up that it's all fun and games until someone loses a skull, a head an eye! And technically, he did lose an eye. And another eye. Oh, and his skull.

That must have been something to see. Holy crap. I will say this about Mr. Hanson. He's definitely an optimistic fellow in this sort of situation. I mean, I'm a glass is half empty/head is missing sort of a person. He's a glass is half full/body is still there kind of a guy. He's not missing a head. He has a body! That what I love about those plucky North Dakotans. Always looking on the bright side. Always seeing the silver lining!

Now, Hanson said that earlier that fateful evening, Burley had shown him "...fireworks that contained a warning that read, "If found please report to the U.S. government." OK, first of all, what the hell kind of fireworks have that label? Second of all, what PART of the U.S. government deals with this sort of thing? Where exactly does one call when one's neighbor has been decapitated by said firework? And is that really the most appropriate label to have one those? How about "If found, you could lose your entire dome if you light one of these, you idiot."

More words of wisdom from Mr. Hanson include gems such as "The accident should be used as an example of how dangerous fireworks can be" and "I’m never going to light a firecracker off again in my life." Right. Listen. The guy was lighting an artillery shell. What in the world did you think was going to happen? Do you really need to swear of ALL fireworks because some doofus lit something that was likely supposed to go off in the air in his hands and de-domed himself? Really? I understand that he still might be in a little bit of shock from having witnessed the event, but come on now. I don't think one of those little angry ground flowers is going to have the same effect should it go even a little bit awry. But if I have to explain this to you, then you're probably right. You probably should never light off a firework again in your life.

Here's my favorite part of this tragedy: "Burley’s body was sent to Bismarck for an autopsy." Um, OK? Do you really need an autopsy? They can't noodle this through on their own? "What do we think happened here? Heart disease? Hard to say. Could be cancer." What goes on at that sort of an autopsy anyway? "Well, he lit off the firework and it hit him in the head and now his head isn't there any more. Soooo....let's cut him open and weigh his pancreas and see if we can figure out what got him!" Why do you need an autopsy?! He's been de-headified! Case closed!

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Darwinism And The Fourth Of July

Happy 4th of July! If you're in America, it's Independence Day. If you're not in America, well, it's still the 4th of July, but that most likely means that it's Monday. And in celebration of our independence and all of the freedoms that being an independent nation allows us, let's see how that turns out for some people. What we have here, according to the Huffington Post, is a one 55-year old Philip A. Contos of Parish, New York. Mr. Parish was "...participating in a protest ride against helmet laws" in New York. When he went to hit the brakes, his motorcycle fishtailed (that means just what it sounds like it means) and Mr. Contos "...flipped over the bike's handlebars and hit his head on the pavement." Naturally, since he was protesting the helmet laws, he wasn't wearing one. Naturally, since he wasn't wearing one, he died.

Now, I don't know if this sounds sad to you, but it does not bother me. That's what being free is all about. You have the choice to make idiotic decisions for yourself and you get to reap the consequences of those idiotic decisions. The thing about being free (and the thing that way too many lawmakers seem to have forgotten) is that it comes with a lot of responsibility. One really doesn't have to do a whole lot of thinking if someone else is going to be making all of the decisions for them. Would it have been better for Mr. Contos if he had been forced to wear a helmet? Well, maybe, but only if you're not him. See, he was perfectly OK with his choice. At 55 years old, I highly doubt that he was unaware of the perils of motorcycle riding without a helmet. He knew what he was getting himself into and, as a free society, he should be allowed to make that choice even if it kills him. Think of it as Darwinism hard at work. OK, maybe not so hard at work. But definitely at work. Darwinism at work.

I'm waiting to hear the retort that usually follows the untimely (and usually unexpected) deaths of people who croaked whilst amidst some sort of hobby. That often heard commentary is usually something to the effect of: "Well, at least he died doing what he loved." I don't think that's ever the case. Eaten by a shark while scuba diving? "He died doing what he loved." Being chomped to death by a sea creature and screaming in pain and unthinkable fear? THAT'S what someone loved? I don't think so. Skydiving and the chute doesn't open and the person plummets to their Wile E. Coyote-esque doom? "He died doing what he loved?" In preparation to become a human pancake? I don't think so? Not doing the sensible (regardless of the laws in place) thing and not wearing a motorcycle helmet and flying over your handlebars at a low speed and cracking your dome open on the pavement? "He died doing what he loved?" Being in defiance of common sense and realizing this lapse in judgment the second before his dome cracked open? Perhaps. But not likely. Not very likely.

Happy Independence Day, America! Try not to screw it up by being a moron. Assume the responsibility that all of this freedom puts upon you and try to emerge from your celebrations in one piece. Or don't. It's a free country.

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Where For Art Thou, Kobayashi?

If you do nothing else on the Fourth of July, Independence Day, make sure that you at least tune into ESPN around noon EST for the 95th (Yes! 95th!) annual Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog-Eating Contest at Coney Island. I swear. But I don't recommend it for most reasons that you'd probably think of.

Watching a bunch of grown men and a few grown women shove dog after dog after dog down their gullet in an attempt to be proclaimed the champion and take possession of the coveted award, the Mustard Yellow Belt. Oh, it's quite a sight. The belt. The eating. The whole deal. Behold!
As a seasoned veteran spectator of this spectacle, I'll give you a crash course primer on the things to pay the most attention to. (Trust me. It's such a disgusting mess at times, you really don't know where to look and your only instinct is to look AWAY! But if you do that, you'll miss some real good eatin'!) Usually, there are really only two names that you need to know. One of those names is Takeru Kobayashi from Japan. Kobayashi came onto the scene in 2001 when the record from the year before was 25 hot dogs in 12 minutes. Kobayashi (pardon the pun) devoured that record by downing FIFTY dogs AND buns in 12 minutes. Why, yes, that's about one dog every 14.4 seconds, that is correct! He uses a technique I've dubbed the "Snap n'Cram" where he snaps the hot dog in half and as that's being crammed into his mouth, he's dunking the bun in water and then sucking that up. It could also be called the "Watch and Vomit", as that's how I feel every year when I view this eating spectacle.

But there might be a problem with Kobayashi competing this year...as in, he might not compete. It seems that the governing body that sanctions these eating competitions, the International Federation of Competitive Eating (of course) has some sort of a contract that these guys have to sign in order to compete. Kobayashi doesn't want to sign the contract because he feels that it will "limit" his choices in eating competitions. The IFOCE claims that they always have to sign the contract and he's never had a problem with it before. They also liken his not signing to a quarterback wanting to play in the Super Bowl, but not join the NFL. That's a pretty good analogy. I don't know if it's accurate, but it's still pretty darn good. Now, they had the weigh-in yesterday and Kobayashi wasn't there. (I have no idea why they're weighing these folks. It's not like they're separated into weigh categories. They have one category. The Gluttonous. That's it. No need for weighing. But if it makes them feel better, then have at it, I guess.) But I'm still holding out hope that he will be there. You should hold out hope, too. It can't hurt.

So if he's there, he's the first guy you're going to want to pay attention to. (With any luck, there will be a shot of him lifting up his shirt at some point. You wouldn't know it to look at the guy, as he looks a bit scrawny, but he is incredibly muscular. Six pack abs and all! He puts The Situation to shame. Behold!)

Then there's reigning champion Joey Chestnut who hails from practically right down the road from my walled compound here in San Jose, CA (otherwise known as "The Valley"). If Kobayashi's technique is the "Snap n'Cram" Joey's technique is "The Cram n'Jump". And it's executed just like it sounds. He crams the hot dog and bun into his mouth and then kind of jumps up and down a little bit. It's sort of like how you shake a bottle of ketchup when the ketchup is all stuck in the neck, only it's in reverse and it's with a hell of a lot of hot dogs. Joey first beat Kobayashi in 2007 by eating an absolutely sickening 66 hot dogs and buns in 12 minutes. If you think that's amazing, in 2008, after someone discovered some handwritten notes dating back to 1918 that had to contest as being for only 10 minutes, the International Federation OF Competitive Eating (I swear) wanted to be true to the roots of the contest and shortened the time by two minutes. So what happened? Joey and Kobayashi tied at 59 hot dogs and buns each and they had to go to a five dog eat off. Whoever could eat the five dogs the fastest wins.

While 5 hot dogs might not sound like much, you have to keep in mind that at this point, these guys just ATE 59 hot dogs. And they've stopped eating for at least five minutes before the dog-off starts. By then, I'm thinking that the chances for a, um, a reversal of fortune, shall we say, are more and more likely. I can't imagine you'd even want to look at another hot dog again for the rest of your life, let alone try and shove five more in your food hole. By the way, an eight pack of Nathan's dogs weighs 1 pound. Thus, not figuring in the weight of the buns, 64 hot dogs would weigh eight pounds! Add the buns and the water and you're easily cramming close to ten extra pounds INTO your body in ten minutes. That's a pound a minute for you folks out there too busy trying not to vomit to do the math. Gross.

So those are your two main players. But wait. There's more! You can't have an event such as this without someone calling the shots. You need an announcer. No, you need a color commentary guy. No, you need a guy with a love for literature. No, you need a wordsmith of the ages. A man who can take individual words and phrases and put them all in a proverbial hat, mix them up, pull them out and match 'em up as if they were Garanimals to construct and form the most utterly amazing sentences in the English language that you will ever hear in your entire life. You need George Shea.

George Shea is a national treasure. The man is brilliant. George Shea is the co-founder, along with his brother Richard, of the IFOCE and they both make the rounds on the competitive eating circuit announcing various events each year. And while I can't vouch for Richard's talents (and I have no reason to doubt that they're any less than formidable), I can vouch for George's skills and they are phenomenal. It's a combination between his love for language and love for watching and orchestrating competitive eating. The words that come out of his mouth are PURE poetry! A few examples from our national treasure, George Shea:

• They say that competitive eating is the battleground upon which God and Lucifer wage war for men's souls. (Um, WHO says that? WHEN do they say that?)
  
  
• For this is a battle of the ages. It's a battle of the titans. That man this is half God and half man and comes to earth only once!
  
  
• We arrive at this moment by the unswerving punctuality of chance! (I don't even know what in the hell that means, but I DO know that it's hilarious!)

• He is eating in an arena of pure emotion! This is about the triumph of the human spirit. It is nothing short of the triumph of the human spirit. As I said.
  
  
• It's like that song by David Bowie. Major Tom. You're enjoying it and then you realize how sad it is. Major Tom's not coming back. He's up in that tin can. He tells his wife he loves her very much! She knoooows. But it's very sad. Major Tom's not coming back. But the belt may be coming back to Brooklyn!
  

Finally. A wordsmith our country can be proud of! So, Sunday. 12 noon EST. ESPN. A bunch of guys and a couple of chicks eating hot dogs really fast with a guy doing beautiful and nutty commentary. It's sure to make you proud to be an American! But if you're still not convinced, there's an added bonus this year! Yes, an added incentive for you to tune in and feel your body awash from head to toe in American pride. According to the folks over there at CNN "As a lead-in to the main event, Major League Eating will hold a "cross-species" eating contest between three competitive eaters and three Asian elephants. Shea described it as the realization of one of his two lifelong dreams, the other being a scenario in which a dozen competitive eaters eat the entire contents of a convenience store."

God bless America! Land of the free! Home of the brave! And the place for eating competitions pitting humans against pachyderms! Two outta three ain't bad!

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Hot Dogs and Asian Elephants to Celebrate the 4th

If you do nothing else tomorrow on the Fourth of July, Independence Day, make sure that you at least tune into ESPN around noon EST for the 94th (Yes! 94!) annual Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog-Eating Contest at Coney Island. I swear. But I don't recommend it for most reasons that you'd probably think of.

Watching a bunch of grown men and a few grown women shove dog after dog after dog down their gullet in an attempt to be proclaimed the champion and take possession of the coveted award, the Mustard Yellow Belt. Oh, it's quite a sight. The belt. The eating. The whole deal. Behold!
As a seasoned veteran spectator of this spectacle, I'll give you a crash course primer on the things to pay the most attention to. (Trust me. It's such a disgusting mess at times, you really don't know where to look and your only instinct is to look AWAY! But if you do that, you'll miss some real good eatin'!) There are really only two names that you need to know. There's Takeru Kobayashi from Japan. Kobayashi came onto the scene in 2001 when the record from the year before was 25 hot dogs in 12 minutes. Kobayashi (pardon the pun) devoured that record by downing FIFTY dogs AND buns in 12 minutes. Why, yes, that's about one dog every 14.4 seconds, that is correct! He uses a technique I've dubbed the "Snap n'Cram" where he snaps the hot dog in half and as that's being crammed into his mouth, he's dunking the bun in water and then sucking that up.

He's the first guy you're going to want to pay attention to. (With any luck, there will be a shot of him lifting up his shirt at some point. You wouldn't know it to look at the guy, as he looks a bit scrawny, but he is incredibly muscular. Six pack abs and all! Behold!

Then there's reigning champion Joey Chestnut who hails from practically right down the road from my walled compound here in San Jose, CA (otherwise known as "The Valley"). If Kobayashi's technique is the "Snap n'Cram" Joey's technique is "The Cram n'Jump". And it's executed just like it sounds. He crams the hot dog and bun into his mouth and then kind of jumps up and down a little bit. It's sort of like how you shake a bottle of ketchup when the ketchup is all stuck in the neck, only it's in reverse and it's with a hell of a lot of hot dogs. Joey first beat Kobayashi in 2007 by eating an absolutely sickening 66 hot dogs and buns in 12 minutes. If you think that's amazing, in 2008, after someone discovered some handwritten notes dating back to 1918 that had to contest as being for only 10 minutes, the International Federation OF Competitive Eating (I swear) wanted to be true to the roots of the contest and shortened the time by two minutes. So what happened? Joey and Kobayashi tied at 59 hot dogs and buns each and they had to go to a five dog eat off. Whoever could eat the five dogs the fastest wins.

While 5 hot dogs might not sound like much, you have to keep in mind that at this point, these guys just ATE 59 hot dogs. And they've stopped eating for at least five minutes before the dog-off starts. By then, I'm thinking that the chances for a, um, a reversal of fortune, shall we say, are more and more likely. I can't imagine you'd even want to look at another hot dog again for the rest of your life, let alone try and shove five more in your food hole. By the way, an eight pack of Nathan's dogs weighs 1 pound. Thus, not figuring in the weight of the buns, 64 hot dogs would weigh eight pounds! Add the buns and the water and you're easily cramming close to ten extra pounds INTO your body in ten minutes. That's a pound a minute for you folks out there too busy trying not to vomit to do the math. Gross

So those are your two main players. But wait. There's more! You can't have an event such as this without someone calling the shots. You need an announcer. No, you need a color commentary guy. No, you need a guy with a love for literature. No, you need a wordsmith of the ages. A man who can take individual words and phrases and put them all in a proverbial hat, mix them up, pull them out and match 'em up as if they were Garanimals to construct and form the most utterly amazing sentences in the English language that you will ever hear in your entire life. You need George Shea.

George Shea is a national treasure. The man is brilliant. George Shea is the co-founder, along with his brother Richard, of the IFOCE and they both make the rounds on the competitive eating circuit announcing various events each year. And while I can't vouch for Richard's talents (and I have no reason to doubt that they're any less than formidable), I can vouch for George's skills and they are phenomenal. It's a combination between his love for language and love for watching and orchestrating competitive eating. The words that come out of his mouth are PURE poetry! A few examples from our national treasure, George Shea:

• They say that competitive eating is the battleground upon which God and Lucifer wage war for men's souls. (Um, WHO says that? WHEN do they say that?)
  
  
• For this is a battle of the ages. It's a battle of the titans. That man this is half God and half man and comes to earth only once!
  
  
• We arrive at this moment by the unswerving punctuality of chance! (I don't even know what in the hell that means, but I DO know that it's hilarious!)

• He is eating in an arena of pure emotion! This is about the triumph of the human spirit. It is nothing short of the triumph of the human spirit. As I said.
  
  
• It's like that song by David Bowie. Major Tom. You're enjoying it and then you realize how sad it is. Major Tom's not coming back. He's up in that tin can. He tells his wife he loves her very much she knows. But it's very sad. Major Tom's not coming back. But the belt may be coming back to Brooklyn!
  

Finally. A wordsmith our country can be proud of! So, Saturday. 12 noon EST. ESPN. A bunch of guys and a couple of chicks eating hot dogs really fast with a guy doing beautiful and nutty commentary. It's sure to make you proud to be an American! But if you're still not convinced, there's an added bonus this year! Yes, an added incentive for you to tune in and feel your body awash from head to toe in American pride. According to the folks over there at CNN (who really screwed up the story about the Michael Jackson funeral, so I hope and pray that they got this story right) "As a lead-in to the main event, Major League Eating on Friday will hold a first-of-its-kind "cross-species" eating contest between three competitive eaters and three Asian elephants. Shea described it as the realization of one of his two lifelong dreams, the other being a scenario in which a dozen competitive eaters eat the entire contents of a convenience store."

God bless America! Land of the free! Home of the brave! And the place for eating competitions pitting humans against pachyderms! Two outta three ain't bad!

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