I live in very close proximity to both a Mexican and an Italian catholic church (neither of which has adequate parking), so oftentimes after a weekend of leaving my car parked on the street amongst the overflow congregation parking, I will return on Monday morning to find an assortment of strange fliers stuck under my windshield wipers. But while I often don't give these bits of paper a second thought, I certainly had to take notice when this letter made an appearance one recent weekend.
I was halfway to work when I noticed what seemed to be a sheet of notebook paper with a handwritten note flapping in the breeze, tucked under the passenger-side wiper. Once I had a chance to examine the letter, I saw that it was merely a photocopied note, but the fact that a penny was taped to the corner still had me intrigued. Was it a present? My very own lucky penny?
As many of you are no doubt aware, April 11, aka College Friday -- a day designed to promote higher education by the good folks at College in Colorado – has come and gone, and Mayor Hickenlooper, if that is his real name, which it is, declined to get in touch with yours truly.
You see, Hick and I attended the same school, Wesleyan University. And part of the push for College Friday involved TV spots featuring local notables – including Hick – clad in their favorite college gear, encouraging regular folks to rock their school’s gear on April 11. Hickenlooper did his spot in his red Wesleyan T and I, naturally, wrote a column proposing that Hick and I have lunch together that day to promote our school, higher education and my own inflated sense of self-importance. But Hick did not accept my invitation.
Slide show
Used to be a time that Broncos Training Camp. meant one thing and one thing only: Greeley, Colorado. You see, these Broncos now-a-days, they’re soft, I tells ya. They cozily meander from their McMansions in Cherry Hills or whatever neighboring suburb in which they’ve set up shop and take the short ride to the Dove Valley training facility on Arapahoe Road. But those older Broncos squads, they had to make the hour-or-so trek to the manure-scented shitropolis of Greeley, where they shacked up in the bunk-beds of the University of Northern Colorado dorms like a bunch of college kids, away from the frills of their cushy mansions, and simply got down to business. The altitude, sure that helps, but conventional Bronco-wisdom used to hold that the shittier a town smelled, the better it was for training.
“Ah, you feeling tired? Well how about you get down and give me sixty pushups? Tired don’t win Super Bowls! Now breath deep, sucka! Don’t like that shitty smell, do you? Of course you don’t! Nobody does! But there ain’t one other team in the NFL that trains in these harsh of conditions, now breathe! Breathe!”
Denver PR firm GroundFloor Media was chosen by the Colorado Department of Public Health and Environment’s Office of Emergency Preparedness to develop and maintain a statewide media campaign geared towards educating residents of the C to the mother fucking O about influenza and disasters and all kinds of scary illmatic shiznit sho to make the script flip.
So that means they’ll be in charge of checking out all the one-minute videos spots submitted by people eager to reality-star-fuck themselves to local celebrity status by landing a spot in the What If House. As this helpful video explains, Colorado residents 18 or older must submit videos that should include their name, age and hometown and answer the question, “If you were faced with an emergency, what five items could you not live without?”
I was unable to record a video as the only tape I had in the old camcorder was an amateur porno I made to try to boost my image Dustin Diamond-style, and I didn’t want to record over it, but here’s what I would have said if I could afford another tape:
The 7-Eleven at 3rd and Broadway has been an absolute madhouse ever since the store opened it’s doors as the Kwik-E-Mart earlier this month in anticipation of The Simpsons movie. Curious gawkers from around the mid-west have been making pilgrimages across the land, eager to snatch up boxes of Krusty-O’s, six-packs of Buzz Cola, snap a few photos of Bart and Milhouse sitting on the roof before convulsing in the throes of full-on diabetic attacks before making their way back home.
Sunday's loss to the Philadelphia Phillies may have snapped the Rockies five-game winning streak, but it did provide one of the more bizarre -- and ultimately entertaining -- rain delays in recent memory. A vicious - albeit momentary - rainstorm ripped through the Denver area sending the grounds crew out to cover the infield with a tarp. No sooner had they brought it out, though, that the winds swept in with alarming fury and whipped the tarp violently out of control. Several members of the grounds crew were caught beneath like toy dolls, prompting the visiting Phillies to spring from the dugout and help restore order. Only one Rocky, reliever Latroy Hawkins, helped out from the home team, which begged the question: Was it bad karma that snapped the Rockies win streak? Check out the footage of the surreal rain delay here. -- Adam Cayton-Holland
Sporting beige, desert fatigues and an arsenal of aviators, the 8th Civil Support Team, Colorado National Guard, was in the parking lot of the Pepsi Center on Monday afternoon, July 9, suited up and ready for action. What kind of action? Whatever the fuck kind of action you got, sucka! But more specifically, hot terrorist on terrorist action. Because this was Operation Northern Guard, an exercise designed to simulate an attack using chemical weapons on a large event taking place at a large public facility. Hell yeah, I thought as I sped to the Pepsi Center, this is going to be intense!
Comedian and writer for The Simpsons Dana Gould will be appearing at the Comedy Works this weekend. Westword’s Adam Cayton-Holland recently interviewed the prolific comedian about everything from his start in stand-up, to the upcoming Simpsons movie to the brilliance to the second-to-last episode of The Sopranos (Not the last one.) Read the full interview below.
At this point, if you don’t know about Los Comicos Super Hilariosos, all I can say is, you better ask somebody. What’s that you say? You were asking me that exact question right now? Geez, I’m sorry. I’ll stop being such a prick and just tell you that Los Comicos is Denver’s foremost alternative comedy review that my friends and I host on the last Thursday of every month, a combination of stand-up, sketches and short videos that seems to be gaining new fans with each show. We do it at Orange Cat Studios, 2625 Larimer Street, and last night we were lucky enough to have someone taking pictures. Which is good because we comics, between the dick jokes and the drinking, rarely have time for such matters. Here is a slide show for your enjoyment. If you like what you see, why don’t you come join us for the next show on June 28th? If you don’t like what you see, please don’t bother telling me. Because that’s rude. I didn’t tell you that I thought you were ugly, did I? – Adam Cayton-Holland
Some people just don’t listen. A few weeks ago, I wrote about a combustible little energy drink that goes by the name of SPIKE. In that column, I pointed out how kids have been going to the hospital for drinking too much SPIKE, and I then proceeded to drink the product in excess to prove a point: I’m a fucking jackass. Ignoring the “only drink half a can” warning, as well as the warning not to imbibe on an empty stomach, I sucked back two cans of the crack – put out by a Colorado Springs bodybuilding-supplement company called Biotest - and wrote about what happened. And what did happen? I felt awful. It was the single-most tweaked-out experience of my life, and something that I never want to repeat. Any beverage that makes your heart sore just ain’t good for you. It was Gandhi who said that. I concluded the column by warning readers not to drink the stuff.
There is something about Chipper Jones that just drives white-trash women crazy. It’s uncanny. Much like NASCAR, buckets of fried-chicken, pit bulls, cold sores, black eyes and having way more babies than they can afford, white-trash women are unable to exist without a love of the Atlanta Braves slugger. It’s a great litmus test: want to find out if your broad is trash? Ask her about Chipper Jones. She gets weak in the knees? Total refuse. Throw some beef jerky off into the woods and bone out when bitch sprints to retrieve it.
34 Fucking Hours In Line for This? — Tuesday, April 3, 9 a.m.
Finally, finally, finally the Last Comic Standing producers show up and they avoid a potential violent insurrection by adopting the unofficial list that the people in line have written and photocopied as the order in which comics will be seen by the judges, a trio of "talent" from previous seasons of the show which includes Alonzo Bodden, Kathleen Madigan and The Queer Everybody Likes to Hate, Ant. Can you say, we're trying to rip-off American Idol everybody? Sure you can.
