Best birthday present ever.

Anthony - So Rick, what do you want for your birthday?

Rick - ...Could you put out a hit on Kathy Griffin?

It's my party, I'll rant if I want to.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

My friends, genius comes in many strange forms. Sometimes it’s enlightening and inspiring. Sometimes it’s misunderstood and confusing. Sometimes it’s radical and frightening.

But when my friends and I exhibit genius, it’s nothing short of twisted and disturbing.

Case in point… my friend Blue and I were recently discussing a mutual friend who recently tied the knot. Now our bud Moby works a 9-5 a good 45-minute drive away, and on occasion shoots hoops after punching out. When he makes it back to the homestead, he attaches his ass to his beloved recliner, and vegs out for hours on end before his TiVo-enhanced entertainment center. In fact, the only time he detaches from said seating apparatus is to get a brew or hit the commode.

This gave us a brilliant idea.

Imagine, if you will, a combination recliner/toilet bowl. Oh, I know, Homer Simpson developed a similar device in one episode of The Simpsons, but Blue and I have made some modifications to the design.

First off, a universal remote that operates every possible electronic device/component imaginable built into the armrest. Furthermore, a refrigerator built into one side of the recliner for the old man’s brew of choice. Moreover, a T.P. dispenser on the other side of the chair (gotta be sanitary, folks). Did we mention built-in air fresheners (gotta love that new car scent)? And of course, massaging rollers in the seatback and ass. Everything so that the average alpha male never has to leave the comfort of his favorite recliner again. Our name for this contraption?

We have christened it the “La-Z-Bowel.”

Now some of you female types might get a bit miffed for fear that your man will become an overweight, uninspired shell of his former sexy self. And you have right to be scared, lassies, ‘cause these mothers’ll sell like frickin’ hot cakes. So what’ll you do when you needs yo’ lovin’? What’s the solution?

I’m still single ladies.

Goodnight, and have a La-Z tomorrow.

Yankees fans can never know pain. Not the way a Red Sox fan knows it.

Last night, you all got a sample, a taste, a cursory lick of hopelessness. Tell me, how did you like it?

Last night, you were sitting on the edges of your seats, not a fingernail left on your hand, sweating enough bullets to fill a crater, weren't you? Welcome to our world. This is how we live day in, day out, especially come October. For a moment, tell me you didn't doubt your Bronx Bombers. Look me in the eye and say you didn't begin to wonder if the "curse" would be shattered last night. If you tell me you never worried an ounce, you're not only arrogant, you're a filthy fuckin' liar.

That aside, I have nothing bad to say. I'm proud of Boston's effort considering that they are the eternal longshot. This play-off series convinced me that I will see them win the World Series before I'm gone. But to all you Yankees fans who refuse to give credit where credit is due, who simply brush it off and give thanks to your "curse," grow up. Nothing is worse than an obnoxious sports fan, regardless of who they root for. Put a sock in it.

Sure, I like rubbing it in people's faces, but 99.9% of the time, I'm content to keep our victories sacred by smiling to myself. I don't want to lose the joy since it doesn't often cross my eyes. Honestly, I wish I were the only one. I know plenty of obnoxious Red Sox fans, so don't think that I'm making the Yanks' fanbase out to be some kind of cult. Truth be told, I have plenty of close friends who're loyal to the Yanks, and hey, that's fine by me. While impulsive in my younger years, I refuse to demean myself or either team by coming to blows over a sports rivalry. In the long run, we respect one another and don't go name-calling. That's what sportsmanship is all about, and I laud it.

However, sportsmanship in general is lost on a lot of people nowadays, fans and players alike (so to answer your question, no, I don't condone Pedro Martinez's actions last week. Happy?). For the past week and change, all I've heard is "curse this" and "curse that." "1918 this" and "1986 that." "Bucky Dent this" and "Bill Buckner that." All I've seen is arrogant, conceited grins from cocky Yankees fans. You wonder why more people from Boston haven't gone B.P. (Beyond Postal) and attempted to carpet bomb Yankee Stadium. Thank God for discretion.

I'd like to think that in some alternative universe, some wonderful type of Karmageddon, these "rub it in your face" types will wind up being reborn into a family of deer 10 feet from Ted Nugent's compound. Then you will know what it's like to be singled out and intimidated. Then you'll know what it's like to hide yourself in a sports bar. Think that over the next time you attempt to condescend to a Red Sox loyalist like myself, OK?

Well, I won't be watching the World Series as neither team interests me. Sure, I'll root for the Marlins, no problem. But why waste my time watching a game that doesn't involve the team I bleed for? And yes, I bleed red. I bleed red to the end, and I'm not the only one. If nothing else, being a Sox fan has taught me humility, and how to cope with pain. But to pull one tearjerker on you, I've got a 9-year-old cousin who is no doubt crying after last night's game, and will probably be ridiculed at school today. When was the last time a 9-year-old Yankee fan had to weep? What, Giambi didn't get that million-dollar raise on his contract? Bernie Williams didn't hit the homer your way? Jeter didn't hit on your mom when he met her? Some day you'll know the pain. Some day you'll know what it means to be stripped of your pride. I guarantee it.

In closing, I'd like to reference my friend Sav. Now Sav is a tried-and-true Mets fan who, for obvious reasons, loathes the Yankees. Now, he could be petty and "1986" me to death, but he realizes there are bigger fish to fry. When I woke up and signed on this morning, his away message, on a scale of one to ten, ranked "totally awesome." And I don't think he'd mind if I shared it with you now...

"Where the hell did all these 'Yankee fans' come from? Half of you wagon-riders didnt even know Aaron Boone played for the Yanks. Now he's a hero? Please. Most of you should spend less time seeing how cute Jeter looks and hoppin' on the Yanks train and try loving the game of baseball itself. As for you true Yankee fans, that was a great game, couldn't have asked for a better series. I can't imagine what a Red Sox fan must feel like. It has been a while seen I've seen a team with that much heart. That alone made it an amazing series. You've captured the souls of New Englanders (and hopeless Mets fans) everywhere... The Sox define team unity."

Amen, Brother Sav.

Goodnight and have a pleasant tomorrow (yes, even you Yankees fans).

On my way to work today, I was listening to Howard Stern on the radio as usual. The guest of the moment was famed hip-hop star Ludacris. Now, as you all should know, I’ve got some issues with the entire hip-hop subculture. Lemme offer you this disclaimer before you go crying “racist.” Skin color, heritage, ethnic/cultural background, that means nothing to me. I judge people by the quality of their beings. They are either good or bad, case closed.

And granted, I am not a fan of hip-hop in general. My tastes tend to lean towards the rock edge of things, but that is just a personal preference. I am, however, irritated and severely alarmed by the glorification of the hip-hop lifestyle portrayed in both song and on the screen. Welcome to the Bling Bling Revolution, as I call it.

But to get back to the point (so you can see where I’m going with this), Ludacris was on Howard Stern this morning. One of the questions Howard asked him (semi-jokingly) was if he carried a gun or not. Ludacris responded he did, but added that it was “for show.”

He carries a gun for show.

Does that bother you at all? Does that make your ears perk up? This man, who fancies himself a superstar in the hip-hop community, carries a deadly weapon, designed for the sole intent to end life, for show. When you hear a comment that proud, that smug, that blatantly ignorant, it’s really hard to disagree with even the most extreme right-wing conservatives who preach against the evils of modern music, particularly rap and it’s glorification of drugs and violence, and its degradation of women.

This is where musical preference falls by the wayside, and disdain for a subculture sets in.

Just some more fuel to the fire: I was watching Scarface a few nights ago on cable, and Ice-T was offering between-commercial commentary on what the film means to him and how it has influenced the hip-hop community.

For those of you who’ve never seen the film, lemme sum it up for ya: Cuban refugee makes it big in America by working as a lackey, killing his superior, and selling cocaine. At the height of his fortune, he is murdered my enemies. That sums it up in a nutshell.

The film does, however, offer up lavish sets, especially in the Miami clubs and Tony Montana’s palatial estate. The phrase, “The world is yours” is echoed throughout the story ad nauseum, as the only thing Tony (Al Pacino) craves is more power. He wants to rule the world, and for a time, he does. But the fast life founded on drugs and crime winds up being his undoing. I know, it sounds a bit clichéd, sure. But it’s still a marvelous picture.

The screenplay was written by Oliver Stone, who at the time was battling cocaine addiction himself. In many ways, it is a social commentary on the criminal underworld, especially as it pertains to drugs. Think of it as one big “Just Say No” campaign with piles of coke, scores of bullets, and a barrage of 182 “F-Bombs.”

However, many in the hip-hop community have taken the stylish imagery from the film and tried to model their livelihood based on that. Think about it, every time Cribs invades a rappers house, the constants are always the same: Cristal, fancy pool, flashy bedroom, and Scarface on DVD. I sincerely doubt that Ice-T or Ludacris ever took a contemporary film class, otherwise they’d be able to read between the lines and figure out that the movie preaches against the type of life they’re leading. Either that, or they just don’t care.

I’d be really curious what Oliver Stone and Brian DePalma think of how the hip-hop community has idolized Tony Montana. I’d love to conduct an interview to see just what they think of this business, ‘cause I gotta tell ya, it disgusts me. Rap used to be a serious social genre. Artists like NWA, Grandmaster Flash, and Public Enemy used the form to preach against social injustice, racism, street life, police brutality, and other topics pertinent to African-Americans at the time.

Now, however, like most musical styles, it has degenerated. In this instance, it has degenerated to one grandiose six-figure, diamond-encrusted, fully-locked-and-loaded Cinderalla story come true for many rappers. But come on, let’s be honest, how long can those fortunes sustain before they start to wear thin on the public? Didn’t you guys see MC Hammer’s Behind The Music? The story doesn’t end pretty! Royalties will only cover so many payments on your Bentley until one is deemed an empty investment by the record company. Even half-assed overpriced clothing lines aren’t likely to keep you afloat.

Whatever the case is, these folks don’t have as rosy a future as they might like. It absolutely turns my stomach to witness such a gross abuse of money.

Or maybe all those Scarface DVD’s just got cut off halfway to the end. Yeah, that’s it. Word.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.