Tag Archives: super dudes power squad

Wall Ball Laws

Growing up poor on the mean streets of inner city Philadelphia, us kids had a lot of time to screw around outside. I never did a whole lot of video gaming (besides NHL 95 on the Sega Genesis!), and found the greatest amusement playing outside with a friend or two down the street. I’ve written about this before, a list of games that we played that look foreign to our suburban-raised counterparts, but today I’m choosing to write about the one game that was the ultimate pick-up boredom buster.

Throw the wall against the ball?

Man, was this ever a sweet game. It required exactly three things. People, a wall and a ball. That’s it. It even had it’s own theme song! (Wall ball, wall ball…you throw the ball against the wall.  Shut up. We were like 8).  Now many places across the country play some form of wall ball or another. And of course, every neighborhood, block and barrio claims THEIR way is the REAL wall ball. But I have to clarify.

This way, our way, was the real way.

Come on, let him play too...

The game, specifically known as Suicide, or Suey, was the preferred, nay, only way to play. It has everything.  Skills such as throwing with precision, athleticism through running, and an excuse to hurt someone without getting into much trouble (unless you hit them in the eye or something).

Don't be that guy...

First, you need a ball. Specifically, an old semi-flat tennis ball that you found in the street (known as a tennie).  New tennis balls are allowed but frowned upon. Also occasionally acceptable is a raquetball. They bounce better, are harder to catch, and sting like a motherfucker when you get hit with one. Recommended for advanced players only.

Wall-E Ball would be even sweeter

Next, find yourself a wall. No windows, please, unless they’re barred/gated/fenced in, in which case TOTALLY go for the wall with windows! You get some gnarly bounces off them, and they make an awesome noise when you hit one. In a perfect world, your wall would be a school or playground building, with an open field or parking lot facing it. In reality, we used the back of an old banquet hall that faced a tiny two way street with cars on it. They just added to the excitement, therefore this situation is completely acceptable. Tennis balls will not break a car (as far as I know…). Trash cans, dogs and passersby are par for the course here.

Now get a friend. Or two dozen. You can really play with any number greater than one, although three or more usually works best.

They guy who brings/finds/steals the tennie usually gets the first throw. He throws the ball at the wall. The ball hits the wall (no bouncing first, it has to hit directly!). At this point, the crowd scrambles to catch it. If the ball bounces before it’s caught, the kid who catches it gets to throw from where they caught it, and the cycle continues. Now here’s the fun part(s). If you catch the ball in the air (no bounces), you get to throw the ball (preferably as hard as possible) at the kid who threw it. Also, if the ball touches you and you don’t catch it (missed catch, deflection, line drive, whatevers), someone can pick it up and whale on you.

Watch out for bobbles!

Don’t fret over a bobble or caught ball, however. You can defend against this by running to the wall and tagging it as you yell “Suey.” Now this isn’t to say the kid who caught your bobble didn’t already start throwing it, and you can get nailed anyways, but at least you can save face a little bit (all important to an urban pre-teen).

Now say you get the ball like two blocks away. You throw it, you don’t make it all the way to the wall. Guess what. It’s a’runnin’ time. Basically, you can get pegged for doing anything OTHER than cleanly catching and throwing. Now for the particularly wimpy kids out there, if you’re waaay down the block, a generous friend can yell “Rally” and intercept the catch for you (however, if you miss the throw to him, you’d better hit that wall). Also, the mean spirited among us can block someone’s long distance throw (making sure you tag the wall after blocking the throw to avoid getting hit with ANOTHER ball).

So summary. Throw ball against wall. Screw up, get pegged with a ball.

Now usually this just goes on until everyone’s bored, but you can also make this into a true winner-take-all event. If you’re actually looking for a winner, count each peg someone receives as an Out. After three outs you can simply declare the person out of the game, or for more grueling adventures, have them face a Wall of Shame. This is where the violence of this game really shines. The guy facing the Wall of Shame has to stand against the game wall, spread eagle. Each other player now lines up and has the opportunity to throw the ball as hard as possible at the kid’s back (very painful for large groups including older kids!). Now maybe your buddy decides just to give you a little tap, that’s up to him. Most will not do this.

Generally, aiming for the head is not allowed. It will usually result in the offending thrower needing to tag the wall.

Catching a ball in the air with ONE hand requires the entire rest of the group to tag up. Roofing the ball, or being the kid who lets it roll in the storm drain requires a beatdown.

So that’s that. Our main game. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes we switched it up playing Chink (named after a crack in the sidewalk or wall), Wallball Baseball (with predetermined areas for single, double, etc), Wireball or Basketball-Court-Baseball-With-a-Tennis-Ball-and-Electrical-Taped-Whiffle-Ball-Bat. We never played Beeries, but I know some kids that did, and we played kick-the-Snapple-Bottlecap-into-random-shit as well as semi-tackle football in the street (like Arena Football, but with cars instead of padded sidelines).

Now while these are the OFFICIAL unofficial rules, house rules always prevail. The game can, nay, must be adapted to your setting. Make things off limits, require extra shit….but remember, most importantly, there’s no crying in wall ball.

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The Super Dudes Power Squad Shirts Have Arrived!

Hey folks! If you didn’t already know, Super Dudes Power Squad now have T-shirts and buttons for sale over at Spread Shirt.com! Featuring illustrations and artwork by Super Dudes Alex and Joe! we have multiple pages full of selections to choose from. The best part is you can choose your own color shirt right on the page! We have shirts for men and women and even a shirt for large dogs (if they’re small dogs..um…feed them more..) Buy one for yourself, your girlfriend, your boyfriend, your friend, the homeless guy who pees on the local bank, your grandma (and tell her to put a bra on for christs sakes! Cover it up flopasaurus!).

You can order them online and they’ll ship within 48 hours or so! Here’s a sample of what we’re selling! You can order them here! http://superdudespowersquad.spreadshirt.com/

AND MANY MORE!! OMGWTFE=MC²!!!!

If you order a shirt, be sure to take a pic of yourself wearing one and we’ll put it up on the site! Send them to superdps@gmail.com !

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It’s high time….

So, fair readers, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from ole Davey. Let’s fill you in on what you’ve missed in the last few weeks or so….

Still unemployed, however, I’m now doing some part time stuff for our very good friends at Derisory Designs, based out of Good Ole Port Richmond.  Cool-ass t-shirts and such, awesome people, and great quality. If you ever need shirts or anything else printed, give em a ring. Tell em Dave sent ya.

Oh, how could I put this second? Super Dudette Michelle and I finally got married after dating for like four years. Actually, our four year anniversary was 2 weeks before the wedding, and we both totally forgot about it. That’s gotta be a good sign, right? The wedding turned out to be a pretty rad event, I think everyone had a good time (us Super Dudes and Dudettes had a blast!), great food, free booze, and a bedroom full of presents. Much thanks to the well-wishers out there.

But you, readers, don’t care as much about my personal life. You should, but you don’t. That would be INSANE.

I come to you, dear readers, today, to talk about something very important to me.  Pennsylvania House Bill 1393 (HB 1393, for short), the Compassionate Use Medical Marijuana Act.

May I start out raising a loud, passionate WTF before I get into my true tirade. Pennsylvania, the state that said the gay’s are not just icky, but constitutionally icky, is actually considering legalizing marijuana for medical uses. Yes, PA. The Great Southern Oasis in the North. Pennsyltucky. Pennsylbama. The great Keystone of Conservatism is actually considering something not only logical, but downright progressive. I am proud, this week, to be a Pennsylvanian.

But Dave! Think of the children! Won’t somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN!?!  Well, sir, or ma’am, I am, quite earnestly. I want children have their parents.

The CDC reports that from 1999 to 2004, unintentional poisoning death from prescription drugs sleeping pills, antidepressants and tranquilizers grew 84 percent  to 20,950 deaths, overtaking cocaine and heroin combined as the leading cause of lethal overdose.Read more:http://www.injuryboard.com/national-news/prescription-drug-deaths-soar.aspx?googleid=29488#ixzz0YSpXHXPN

(courtesy injuryboard.com)
The first argument many make for the legalization of medical marijuana is that there are no deaths associated with smoking it. Well, we know that’s not REALLY true, people smoke and drive, or smoke and do other stupid shit ALL the time. Inexcusable. How many people do you interact with on a day to day basis, including bus drivers, other cars on the road, doctors, bosses, etc., and how many of them do you think are taking an opiate painkiller? I would bet good money that it’s a WHOLE lot more than you think. It’s illegal and stupid. Smoking and driving should be too, just like taking Oxycontin and driving technically is. Ok, so now we’re starting to think of the children.  Let’s throw it out there that I believe driving under ANY (chemical) influence  should be illegal and punished the way drunk driving is. If it’s clouding your judgement, you shouldn’t drive. There, happy? But what about that fact up there…Ambian, Lunesta, Roserem, Lexapro, Valium, Oxycontin and all of their friends are now more deadly than fucking COCAINE AND HEROIN. Let that mull around in your head for a few minutes. Legal, “safe,” prescribed drugs are more deadly than the big H. Wow. Just fucking WOW.

Deadly

Now believe me, as much as I think marijuana should be totally legalized and taxed, that’s a different topic for a different day. And I certainly don’t think heroin should be freely sold in stores or anything (bad libertarian!). (While we’re at it, I’m listening to my iTunes on shuffle, and I don’t care what anyone says about the Smiths. Morrissey is a pussy.). Today we’re just focusing on the MEDICAL aspect of it. Let’s look back a few years. Up until 1941, marijuana was still in the US Pharmacopoeia, which Wiki describes as “an official public standards–setting authority for all prescription and over–the–counter medicines and other health care products manufactured or sold in the United States.” So until 1941, the US officially recognized marijuana’s legitimate use as a pharmaceutical. Wow.

New York, The Nanny State

There are many reasons, and speculative reasons, why marijuana was made illegal in the US. Nanny State-ism, control of the youth, desire to kill the economy of South American immigrants…even an honest desire to keep kids out of trouble. But we should have learned a simple fact from Alcohol Prohibition….making something RELATIVELY harmless illegal, after it has been legal for so long, and while it’s still readily available, not only doesn’t work, but is dangerous to users and bystanders alike. Sure gangs will still sell heroin and crack, but how much of their profit will be taken out when we legalize marijuana?  Okay, getting to be off topic again, we’re talking medical today, not total usage….

So we know prescriptions CAN be very dangerous. I’ve taken some of these “FDA APPROVED” “SAFE AND SOUND” medicines. Pain killers for various injuries and surgeries, and countless sleep medicines for various sleep disorders. Pain killers suck. They really do. They shred your stomach like glass, and they make you crap funny (if you’re lucky and CAN crap) for days. They disorient you, and leave you wanting more of them. You can died if you drink a beer and take them. Sounds really fucking safe, huh. Sleeping pills might actually be more dangerous, in my opinion. They actually leave you WANTING to go to bed so you can take your next one. They can make you SERIOUSLY depressed (ask Super Dudette Michelle about this, she told the doc that I would die if I kept taking Ambian, because SHE would kill me…).  They are bad news bears.  Perhaps the even greater danger with them is that people THINK they’re safe. Just an Ambian. Just a Lunesta. But no (and if you have sleeping problems, PLEASE see a Sleep PSYCHOLOGIST instead of asking for pills from your doctor. They really help you, far more than any pill EVER can).  Also, Ambian, for example, has a tendency to make you…well…retarded before you fall asleep, leading you to do stupid shit and FORGET THAT YOU ALREADY TOOK ONE. A double Ambian hangover is no fun, hear you me. Not to mention all of the people who DRIVE, GAMBLE, and WANDER OFF after taking the shit. In my personal experience, Ambian and most, if not all, of its little sleeping pill friends should be ILLEGAL.

Sleeping pills can make you a zombie.

Okay, so we think that marijuana is probably more safe than narcotics and sleeping pills. Isn’t that enough of a reason? If your DOCTOR says something is better than something else (last I checked, MOST government employees, let alone congress aren’t medical professionals, let alone doctors), shouldn’t you be able to access SAFELY and WITHOUT fear of the government? (and fear of terrifying side effects like sleepwalking to the casino…).

Wait, what?

So we KNOW that marijuana helps people with glaucoma. It’s a FACT. It lowers pressure in the eye, and helps people from going FUCKING BLIND. I’d say that ALONE is worth it, but WAIT, THAT’S NOT ALL! Marijuana is also the perfect thing to help people with HIV/AIDS and cancer regain their appetites so they don’t die of starvation or get vitamin deficiencies. You don’t want cancer patients to die of something else before cancer gets them, and we certainly want AIDS sufferers to last as long as they can in hopes we might actually be able to cure the damned thing.

Hey, Dave, I don’t have cancer or AIDS, why should I give a fuck? Well, friend, have you ever had chronic sleeping problems? I have. Have you ever been depressed, in physical pain or had surgery?  Okay then, you should care.

The conspiracy theorist in me has a damned good reason why the Feds have this drug illegal. Is it true? Who knows, but based on some other stupid policies Uncle Sam has (Agricultural Lobby, anyone?), it wouldn’t be hard to imagine that Big Pharma doesn’t want a drug that you can grow in you closet or backyard legal when Lunesta sells for four bucks A FUCKING PILL.
There are so many reasons why this NEEDS to happen for us Pennsylvanians. Just google “Medicinal Marijuana” and you’ll be amazed. I’m not some pothead going out there trying to legitimize use. I simply think this is something we have to do for our elderly and suffering that has been stigmatized for FAR too long.

So, dear friends, I have a simple thing to ask you….no BEG of you….
PLEASE visit THIS SITE, fill in your information to contact your PA State Representative and urge them to support this very important and progressive piece of legislation. I’ve done it, and encouraged everyone I know to do it. Post it to your facebook, twitter, crackberry, whatever you have. Let em know we want it, and want need it now.

-philamaneto
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Hipster on S-E-P-T-A

davebwLet me tell you the story

Of a bearded Hipster

and his tragic and fateful time…

Hipster grabbed his bike

and kissed his Vegan Girlfriend

Went to ride on the Frankford Line

Hipster

Hipster

Did he ever return,

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearn’d

He may ride forever

On the Market-Frankford

He’s the Hipster who never returned.

El oh El

El oh El

Hipster swiped his Transpass

At the Spring Garden Station

With his bicycle lock and chain

When he sat down, some Punks

locked his bike to the seat,

Hipster couldn’t get off of that train…

Dont let it end...

Don't let it end...

Did he ever return,

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearn’d

He may ride forever

‘neath the streets of Fishtown

He’s the Hipster who never returned.

The streets of Fishtown

The streets of Fishtown

Now all night long

Hipster rides through the tunnels

Crying, “What will become of me?

How will I get to my Pabst

in West Philadelphia

Or my cousin in Nor’Liberty?”

Clark Park, West Philly

Clark Park, West Philly

Did he ever return,

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearn’d

He may ride forever

Under Powelton Village,

He’s the Hipster who never returned.

WKDU, Hipster Radio

WKDU, Hipster Radio

Vegan Girlfriend goes down

To Girard Street station

Every day at quarter past two

And through the open window

She hands Hipster falafel

As the train comes a’rumblin’ through.

It looks like poop

It looks like poop

Did he ever return,

No he never returned

And his fate is still unlearn’d

He may ride forever

Under 56th and Market,

He’s the Hipster who never returned.

University City IS West Philly

University City IS West Philly

As his train rolled on

underneath the river wards

Hipster looked around and sighed:

“Well, I’m smelly and disgusting

And my skinny jeans are crusting;

I guess this is my last long ride.”

Its beer!

It's beer!

Now all you Philadelphians,

Don’t you think it’s a scandal

That the Hipster has to sit and whine?

Fuck the Saviour!

Vote for Larry West!

Get poor Hipster off the Frankford Line!

The Savior

The Saviour

Or else he’ll never return,

No he’ll never return

And his fate will be unlearned

He may ride forever

On the Market Frankford

He’s the Hipster who never returned

phila maneto!

Dave Grow

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Tales of a Graduate Nothing

davebwYou probably wake up around the time she does. Not really by choice, that’s just when the alarm goes off. You’re practically conditioned at this point, you couldn’t stay asleep past 6:30 if you tried, and believe me, you could really try most days…

As she gets ready for work, you lay in bed, thinking to yourself that you really should get up, stay in that work-mode habit that the rest of the world seems to be in. Yeah, right.  Fuck that. If you aren’t going to work, you might as well enjoy staying in bed and going back to sleep for a few more hours. But you know you won’t. Your brain is already awake, going back to sleep is pretty pointless. Too much to think about. What sites to check out today, how to cope with the boredom after you’ve combed over the half dozen new job postings that you’re either over or under qualified for. You think about these things instead of doing them, for some reason.  The most unproductive of all activities, you lay in bed and ponder what you’re going to do, or perhaps going to avoid doing.  Other options creep into your head.  Stay in bed all day, too boring.  Drink all day, too expensive.  Video games all day, been there. It’s getting as expired as watching yet another daily dose of Judge Judy would get. You look over at the clock.  It’s finally 9,  or maybe 10.  You realize  most productive people in the world are already working hard at their jobs.  Not just that 8:15-get-to-work-and-kill-30-minutes-on-the -coffee-and-bullshit-mode, but actually doing productive things that contribute to society.  You’re loafing in bed. You grab  your laptop. Thank god someone took the time to invent that thing.  You check your favorite news aggregators, google news, digg, and so on, hoping against hope that today would bring good news of economic recovery, a public works project, the expansion of Unemployment Coverage to recent college grads, but nothing.  Kim Jong Il this, Michael Vick that.  You open a half dozen articles, thinking you’ll be entertained by them, only to grow tired of them a few sentences in.  You check the social networking sites, hoping a long-lost friend messaged you, maybe having that perverse notion that some long lost love interest is romanticizing over you, even though you’re more than happy with where you are in life.  Well, at least in relationship terms.  Myspace, facebook, livejournal, deadjournal, blurty, some days you check the sites you joined 5, 8, 10 years ago and have abandoned shortly thereafter. Hoping something has changed…maybe some new excitement pops up. It doesn’t. You dwell on facebook, the only one of those god awful sites that is actually somewhat useful.  A comment here, a poke there. Nothing useful after all. Nothing entertaining. Are any friends online to chat with? No, they’re at work, of course. The days of constant friends online to chat with at all hours of the day are long gone.  You’ve known this for some time, of course, but it still stings.  You grow restless, checking sports sites, gaming websites, anything you can think of that you might be interested in. But you’ve seen it all before. Wikipedia is stale with articles you’ve already glanced through, grabbing whatever tidbits of information your wandering mind picks up.  You wander to your favorite pornographic and otherwise explicit non-pornographic sites, which you immediately realize will do little more than bore you as much as the rest of the internet does.  Your laptop battery dies, far sooner than it should.  You realize your laptop is ancient by modern standards, of course it is. You got it your freshman year of college. It was a beast. Unstoppable, invincible. Then again, so were you. You realize the irony of then, plug in your computer, and consider sitting near naked at your desk to continue your miserable morning, but you eventually head to the shower.

The shower isn’t as refreshing when you’re already awake.  When you’re still half asleep, the shower is your wakeup. It’s like being baptized every day, a new life given to you with water.  Not today, not lately.  The showers you usually enjoy are little more than another stale routine in your day.  You smell nice, and you  have to dry off. Lather, rinse, repeat.  Brush the teeth dry off, back to the bedroom. You consider crawling back into bed, but you’d just be as bored as you were before.  Without the computer.

You get dressed, eventually, putting on the same pair of shorts you always wear when you want to be comfortable. You pick out a nice looking shirt, even though you have little doubt that you’ll be staying inside today.  You head down to your kitchen. By now, it’s anywhere from 10:00 to 12:30.  Half of your day is already wasted before most of the world even eats lunch.  Which brings your next problem to rise. What to eat? Slimfast shake? Lunch meat sandwich? Soup? Leftovers? These are the things you would be eating if you were at work, but god damn it, you want the variety and luxury of choosing what you want. You want Bruger King, Wawa, a hoagie, anything but what you have in your pantry.  You struggle to reason with this, but come up with no conclusion.  You close the pantry or fridge door unsatisfied.  You decide to make coffee while you think over your options  Pull the zip lock baggie of ground beans  out of the fridge, it reminds you of a bag of cannabis.  Alluring, potent and pungent.  Your drug of choice, the coffee.

Your coffee routine is equally as repetitive as your others, however this one is different. No one can destroy your coffee routine. Not now, not ever. You dutifully scoop the grounds into the bottom section of the fake  espresso steamer you have, fill the water to just the right level, screw the Ikea contraption back together ad wait.  Flame on.  The pressure builds in the coffee maker until you hear the steam and boiling water shoot through the crushed grounds. It hisses, gurgles, and steams until the warm, thick fluid erupts into the top chamber, like a coffee-pot orgasm. This is why you got out of bed today, you realize.  You dutifully pout half the carafe’s contents into your mug, topped of with milk for a makeshift latte. It’s not Starbucks, it’s not Dunkin Donuts or even god damned McDonalds, but it’s the way YOU like it. And you  make the best coffee in the world.

You still haven’t figured out what to eat for breakfast. Or is it lunch, by this point? It’s probably both. You decide either meal’s food s would be acceptable. Eggs? bacon? Hamburger? teak? You still want that hoagie or cheese steak sandwich from your favorite shop dwon the street, but you resist. Spending money now means that much less for beer later (or rent…or bills, god forbid you lose your HBO).  You settle for tuna fish. Again. The tuna fish that was on sale last week at Shoprite, not the fancy, tasty, non-mercury filled kind.  It will have to do today.  Open the can, find your favorite condiments, mayo, dressing, you’re out of onion powder, garlic powder will have to do, even though y ou know you won’t like it as much.  Mix with a spoon, slap onto bread. Chew.  No, wait…something different. You have wraps today. Hot damn, a break. You pile your tuna onto a spinach garlic wrap, load n some croutons and carrots, and roll it up, realizing that this might actually be the highlight of your day.

You avoid looking at your computer while eating. You’re going to be staring at it all day anyway, why burn out your eyeballs during lunch/breakfast?  What now? You’ve finished eating  Go out? no money to STay in? don’t feel like it.  You want to do something spontaneous. Climb onto a roof, get a tattoo, sneak into a building, climb a water tower, but you know these things would no work out. You swear to do them tomorrow.  You check your email for the 100th time, hoping against hope that one of the people you contacted for a job will get back to you, but they won’t.  They will tomorrow, you’re sure.  You check for jobs. Indeed, monster, careerbuilder, the same jobs you saw yesterday. And the same that were there last week.

new one pops up here ad there. Someone you know heard that such-and such- company was hiring, so you check their website  Unqualified, overqualified, or not applicable. Same as usual. You fire one or two resumes off in hopes that someone will realize the hidden talents you have, despite your lack of experience and professional license. Now comes the phase in your day where you’re worse off than before.  Worse than boredom, worse than frustration. Bored frustration. This is where you start to worry…where dangerous things pop into your head.  Maybe you could drink a few beers and kill the afternoon.  Maybe you could find some pot and watch a movie. You don’t have the money for either, and wouldn’t even know where to find pot.  You consider video games, but realize that your collection hasn’t expanded since you looked yesterday. The same old games. The ones you’ve been playing for 2 years because you can’t fathom spending 60 bucks on a new one.  By now, it’s already 3pm. Only a few more hours until the missus gets home. Then maybe you’ll go do something fun.  But she’s been working all day, like most good grown ups.  She won’t want to go crazy tonight.  You get a phone call…a second interview, scheduled for tomorrow, are you available? You are now. This is the scary one, the technical interview. You can bullshit your way through HR, but this is a different beast. But you know not to get your hopes up. This interview will go like all the others. Thank you for your interest. They’ll let you know real soon.

You slink back into the couch, glad you didn’t have that pot connection, or else you have sounded the damned fool on the phone, and maybe failed your drug test.  Email, CNN, syndicated reruns, CNN, email, reruns, CNN, email, reruns. You can’t choose, because none are satisfying.  You grab a beer from the fridge, just one, to cool off with, or perhaps to comfort you just a little.  4pm, 4:30, 4:45, you’re almost there. Your day is almost done. You yearn for 5 o’clock to come around, but you don’t know why. The missus won’t get home until almost six. But something in you still strives to make it until then. You start making dinner, eat when she gets home. She’s your  breadwinner, it’s the least you can do.  You’re exhausted for some reasn, and lay on the cough until she gets home. Then you eat dinner, clean up, and watch TV. At least you aren’t doing it alone, and can share a laugh or two.

You watch the same shows every night, TMZ, Simpsons, Family Guy, and whatever prime time show of the day that’s on afterwards. Then you go to bed, following the same routines you do every night. Wash your little face, brush your little teeth, take your little pills to keep you alive for another day. Things you used to take simple pleasure in, but not so much anymore.  You head to bed, knowing you won’t sleep well, wondering how to pay your part of the bills and rent, hoping that tomorrow will be the day you hear from a job, and get your lucky break. It’ll happen. Maybe tomorrow.

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MAKE!

davebwI like projects. Ones that actually serve somewhat of a purpose so that I have a reason to finish them.  I also like building shit. Putting things together to make something more awesome from their parts.  Currently, I have an education in engineering, and no job, which would allow me to spend lots and lots of time on my said project. The problem there is that I also don’t have any money. Fail. So here’s where you, dear reader, can help. I’m going to list a bunch of shit that I want to do/build/experiment with/make/etc, and you can help me decide which to do first/next.

Some criteria/goals here…like  I said, I don’t have any money, so I’ll need to get my supplies as cheap as possible, if not totally free, so I’ll list the major parts I need for each endeavor, and perhaps you, dear readers, can help me out (donations? take shit off your hands? point me in the right direction?) and as a thank you, I’ll blog the shit out of the project, and let you play with it when I’m done!  Some of these are totally doable, some are a little more pie-in-the-sky. But that’s for you to decide. What do you want to see? What can you help me with? Materials? Skillz? Moral support?

So here we go…..

Diesel Powered Moped

Genuine Nerd

Genuine Nerd

This has a number of cool things about it. It’s moped, which already gets crazy good MPGs, and if I can make a diesel one, it’ll get BETTER MPGs, and will be able to run on all sorts of crazy shit like vegetable oil and kerosene and stuff…alt fuels, FTW.

  • A bicycle (old is okay, as long as it mostly works)
  • A small diesel engine (small as in just a few horsepower. I’m not even sure something along the lines of what I’m looking for exists, but if anyone has an old diesel lawnmower or weedwacker, something like that would work!)
  • Maybe welding skills/supplies? (I’m sure I can get along without this, but I want to learn to weld, damn it…)

Puddle Duck Racer

Like a wee little yacht

Like a wee little yacht

You can build a little bitty boat made of plywood and bedsheets for next to nothing. Awesome.

  • Plywood
  • Rope
  • Sail material (this is probably really easy)
  • And most importantly, SPACE! Anyone want to build/keep this bad boy? I need somewhere to keep the damned thing while it’s being built. A garage? A backyard under a tarp? Whatever works for you works for me, and since it’s at your place, it’s basically YOURS! So who wants a free boat?

Punkin Chunker

Its Punkin Chunkin time again!

It's Punkin' Chunkin' time again!

We can enter the Punkin Chunkin competition in Delaware. It’s totally worth it. There are any number of different types of pumpkin launchers, though, so I’m open to whatever shit you have laying around.

So yeah, there are three projects for starters. I can do whatever you suggest, provided I/we can get the materials for it! So be creative! Give some suggestions, and let’s make some magic happen. It’ll be insane.

Dave

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California Uber Alles

davebwLast call for alcohol.
Last call for your freedom of speech.
Drink up. Happy hour is now enforced by law.
Don’t forget our house special, it’s called a Trickie Dickie Screwdriver.
It’s got one part Jack Daniels, two parts purple Kool-Aid,
and a jigger of formaldehyde
from the jar with Hitler’s brain in it we got in the back storeroom.
Happy trails to you. Happy trails to you…

Well, it’s official.  California, the Bear Flag State, is more ass-backwards than the northernmost state still fighting the Civil War, the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  California’s Supreme Court upheld the legality of Proposition 8 today. Okay, the people voted on it. It’s banned here, too. Here’s the rub…the law here in Pennsyl-hick-ia was approved by representatives in the state legislature.  We have a shit ton of state reps who end up over-representing the rural areas and under-representing the places where people actually live, but that’s another story. We, the people of the state, didn’t vote for it directly, and it’s only done by law.

The people of California voted on it themselves. “Can Dudes Marry Each Other? Yes/No.” They said no themselves. And worse yet, they said no in such a way, a constitutional change, that makes it incredibly hard to change it back. They said “Fuck you,” locked the door, and threw away the key. Us inbreds in Pennsylbama still haven’t done that. Go figure…

I want to sit back and say, “I’m not specifically Pro-Gay Rights, I’m Pro-Everyone Rights,” and as true as that is, ya know what? Its time to say “fuck it,” and admit that I am pro-gay marriage.  I have a few good reasons, too, it’s not just liberal college kid bull.  First off, I, personally, have zero problem with people of the same sex getting married. So there’s that…

Also, even if I had a problem with dudes or chicks getting married, I’m mature enough to step back and say, “Ya know what? It’s not doing me any harm.” Now I know a lot of people out there are sort of intolerant over tolerance (the whole, everyone HAS to accept everything, except not accepting things…).  I recognize that in this great country of ours, you are SO free to sit back and hate anyone you damned well please. Thank god we have that right, too.

Okay, back to the point at hand…ya know, even if I really thought that those darn gays were going to rot in hell for being….gay…that’s their decision. You know who is making a mockery of marriage right now? About 90% of the people I’m related to. Straight, all American types who cheat on their spouses, leave their significant others and abandon their children in one way or another. Not a homosexual among them. So much for the family values of the straight, traditional household. Insanity.

Here’s the thing that kills me. It’s a little more emotional and more opinion than anything else, but hey, I’m the one writing here….The marriage age in New Hampshire with parental consent is 13 for girls and 14 for boys. THIRTEEN! Pennsylvania is under 14 with the approval of a Judge of the Orphans Court. Jesus H. Christmas (at least New Hampshire lets same-sex couple marry…). Think about this. A 13 year old can get married, but NOT two PhD’s who are in their 40s.  Something to chew on, isn’t it?

So what do we do about all of this? I sure don’t know. Maybe we can just let people know how pissed we are (if you are. If you aren’t, I guess that’s okay too, just make sure you have a good reason for it and I’ll respect your opinion). Write the letters, VOTE for the people who know what freedom means, and don’t be afraid to speak up. Also, make sure you don’t become more hateful and mean than the other side is. Take care of yourself, and each other. California Uber Alles, indeed….

*Yes, I know…I wanted to keep all this SuperDude a-political…I just had to rant. This is a Dave rant, not a SuperDPS rant. The other SuperDudes don’t necessarily agree with a word of this. Some probably do, though. Some might not. Take it for what it is.
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Superdps=SuperDrunkPhoneService

davebwSo yes, we have this posted on the Contact Us page (or at least we  used to…) but I’d like to OFFICIALLY announce to the world our Super Dudes Power Squad Drunk Dial Line.  We’ve all done it, its okay. But instead of calling your Ex, or that long lost friend, call us instead! We’ll share the best messages with the world in future blogs, and maybe even put up a new page for it if we get enough messages.  Come on, give it a try. It’ll be fun, I promise!

It’s fun AND easy….

1) Save 215–253-8337 (it spells out 215-25-Dudes…or…215-BJ-Dudes….hmmm) in your contacts, maybe as DRUNK or Super Dudes or something that’ll catch your attention while drunk

2) Get drunk.

3) Call us and leave a message!

4) Feel satisfied.

5) Forget about it tomorrow morning

6) Be horrified when you hear yourself on our site a week later.

It’s like magic. It’s somewhat magical!

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Wonderfully Bad Movies

davebwEvery once in a while, a movie comes along that looks SO bad, you just HAVE to see it (think Snakes on a Plane bad).  Now, I wasn’t really crazy about Snakes on a Plane, so here are three movies that, regardless of how bad you thought they were, you should go see today.

UHF- Yes, that’s right. Weird Al really did make a movie. And it’s really weird. It’s strangely watchable, though, with some big names (Fran Drescher, Michael Richards, Emo Phelps and Kevin McCarthy).  There’s a strange combination of low-brow kid jokes and semi-sharp dialogue.  The story is pretty simple; a loser and his friend are given his rich uncle’s low powered TV station, and have to compete with the local network station.  When U62 becomes too popular, the big-budget owner of the network tries to buy them out, with hilarious results.  My favorite moment is when Stanly Spudowski (played by Michael Richards) gives this monologue:

This is my new mop. George, my friend, he gave me this mop. This is a pretty good mop. It’s not as good as my first mop. I miss my first mop, but this is still a good mop. Sometimes you just hafta take what life gives ya, ’cause life is like a mop and sometimes life gets full of dirt and crud and bugs and hairballs and stuff… you, you, you gotta clean it out. You, you, you gotta put it in here and rinse it off and start all over again and, and sometimes, sometimes life sticks to the floor so bad you know a mop, a mop, it’s not good enough, it’s not good enough. You, you gotta get down there, like, with a toothbrush, you know, and you gotta, you gotta really scrub ’cause you gotta get it off. You gotta really try to get it off. But if that doesn’t work, that doesn’t work, you can’t give up. You gotta, you gotta stand right up. You, you gotta run to a window and say, “Hey! These floors are dirty as hell, and I’m not gonna take it any more!”


Slackers- Laura Prepon, Jason Segal and everyone’s favorite, JASON SCHWARTZMAN come together in this…weird…movie about cheating your way through college.  It’s not really that unlike American Pie, or any of those, I just like it alot better.  It’s a little bit less gross-out than many of those type of movies, but still enjoyable to those who like them.  This movie was quoted all through our undergrad years, specifically the following dialogue:

Sam: Professor Markoe! Thank God you’re here! I was hit by a truck today.
Professor Markoe: Well you alright?
Head T.A. Philip, Bruna, the Office Manager: He was hit by a truck!

My favorite part is at the end, when Ethan sings his song…. I love you but, I hate you, which brings to mind, how much I love you. We could have worked this out you know, in a little room, in a little locked room. I’m sorry you had to settle for Dave, the one-dimensional man. He’s filed under “Cocksucker” in my little black book. Sweetness can rot your teeth. Bittersweet, cacophony. But you hold the key, you hold the key, to my little locked room. You hold the key, you hold the key, to my little locked whoa-ooh-oh-oh. Please let… me… out soon. I luh you.


The Girl Next Door- The classic story of boy falls for girl, who happens to be a porn star. If I gave out any other details, I think too much of the story would be given away. But it’s hilarious and has a great story.  This is one of the more underrated teen movies that I can remember. This one really doesn’t belong on a list of BAD movies, but I think it was advertised as being a teen-gross out. Go see it.

-phila maneto

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Y100 Rocks! (and Y Preston and Steve do NOT)

davebwOkay, I’m fully ready to disclose a few things here. First, there are those among the SuperDudes who absolutely don’t agree with this at ALL. That’s okay. They can write whatever they’d like. Also, I used to listen to Preston and Steve too, and I thought they were awesome and hilarious when i was 15

So today I’m going to talk about WHY I don’t really like Preston and Steve, and why they’re absolutely no different than any other large-market, drive time, semi-shock jocks.

First, I’m going to repeat some comments others have posted on a blog entry I just found called Kidd Chris vs Preston and Steve.

Preston & Steve are my saviours in the morning. Not only are they funny (Steve is hilarious!), but they’re the nicest people when you meet them up close and personal.

I think they rock! - A comment from a fan, honest and admiring

“steve is probably the least funny guy alive and people who find him funny have an even worse sense of humor. i’m not a kidd chris fan but preston and steve are seriously some of the lamest radio ever, talk about douchebags. and that marbles bit makes no sense. LOL WE’RE SO LOCAL. BLUE ROUTE GUYS ROFL LULZZZZZZZZ” – My thoughts exactly!

So I really just had to post that because the second one is pretty much how I feel, and apparently I’m not the only one. So why do I not like their show? Let’s see….

You Guys ROCK!- This seems to be A) The only thing you need to say to get yourself on the radio and B) The ONLY thing that will get you on the radio. There is a lot of talk on the internets about how heavily screened their callers are. I can’t really blame them for screening, but sometimes you gotta roll with the punches and let a weirdo on. It’s not like the shows going to go downhill too much.

Gadzooks! Kinda like those bumper stickers that…Opie and Anthony used to have…kinda…exactly like them. That’s alright. At least their contests are….ripped off Howard Sterns…umm….Lou from the earlier mentioned blog says:

P&S have to be the worst radio show in the morning….steve’s jokes are NOT FUNNY!!! all of their games 4 prizes BEEN DONE by HOWARD STERN…they even stole stuff from barsky…their thieves..at least KIDD CHRIS has an affiliation with STERN!!!!! and his cast have the best material (crank calls by the CREAM TEAM AND EAST COAST BOB CRUSH anything P&S ever done!!!

I guess I can’t really bitch about that TOO much. There are really only SO many radio-friendly games out there. I just don’t like how their show isn’t nearly as unique and special as they and their fans make it out to be.

I HATE STEVEN SINGER!- But I bet Steven REALLY hates Marissa, the Assistant Producer. Read THIS! What a tool bag. (BTW those two bars are like a block away from each other…)

Y100 is Dead- See, y100 was the last major radio station that wasn’t owned by one of those big conglomerates (the kind we’d gladly accept a multimillion dollar buyout from, if you’re reading this ClearChannel!). So for a long time, y100 used to play Alternative Rock, 90′s rock…that sorta thing. And all was good. These were the days when Preston and Steve really made it big. y100 goes to ALL ROCK ALL THE TIME (which was really just ALL CREED ALL THE TIME) and eventually got bought out by one of the big boys. Legal issues, blah blah blah, someone managed to convince Preston and Steve that the entire city wanted to eat their asses. They still believe this, and if you listen for a few days, it really shows. These guys “know” that they’re really hot shit. So I really don’t know if the show got worse, or if I just stopped listening to that sorta shit. It’s probably both.

Now, these guys DO have a bunch of events that really help people out, like the Campout for Hunger (although it’s honestly not much of a campout when you get to live in a fully stocked RV for a week in a parking lot…). And I can’t argue with the fact that SOMEONE (well, alot of SOMEONEs) listens to em. So I guess it’s really just my own problem. So I can SUCK IT! I’ll end with a final quote, from Urban Dictionary:

preston and steve 703 up, 432 down love ithate it
Lame morning radio show in philadelphia. Unfortunately, due to having no competition in the last few years, penis and obese were able to brainwash the simple minds of philadelphia into believing that they are funny. One could simply turn their dial to 94.1 and listen to Kidd Chris where they would find ample amounts of radio “gold” that would make them realize how lame Preston and Steve really are.
I was on the blue route, but the signs were brown and green”, “You should shorten your name to Prest”, “I love mars bars and mixing mayo and ketchup” Preston and steve suck.

-philamaneto

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