My Annual Piece on Earth

As the holidays approach it's customary for the Boneman to take a retrospective glance at the events of the year gone by and, not unlike a pompous jackass, he tends to start these off by referring to himself in the third person. Quite honestly I'm not well versed enough in the finer points of the English language to understand why this is even called "third person" and I'll also admit that I'm not altogether sure who the "second person" would be - if indeed there is one. Where were I? Whatever the case, like most years, 2004 was a bizarre segment of history, and thus, all three of my persons have prepared this traditional "Odd Lang Syne."

Just going off the top of my (our) head, how about that crazy basketball riot that broke out between the Pacers and the Pistons? True it was pretty disgraceful, and Commissioner Stern certainly has meted out the penalties with a harsh hand, but I'm quite certain that the league couldn't be happier that it happened. You just can't buy that kind of publicity. Every time footage of the bench clearing brew-ha-ha gets aired the NBA picks up a couple thousand Hockey fans. A lot of non-contact sports would do well to learn from the kind of media attention a nice little senseless brawl brings with it. Just as an example, when I was a kid "Chess" was huge deal. There was this heated cold-war rivalry between American Bobby Fisher and that no-good commie scum Boris Spassky. It was all over the news, and seriously when was the last time you heard a peep about Chess? Chess is a sport in desperate need of an ugly altercation. "Nobody takes out my Queen, bitch - you're goin' down! You cheatin' booger-eatin' dork." If you could just get that to spill into the stands, think of the coverage - a nutty frenzy of nerds, notepads and knuckles, fruit punch and pocket-protectors flying - that's what Chess needs.

In any case it was fairly ironic that, when the dust settled after the infamous basketbrawl, Stern decided to make the biggest example out of Ron Artest. He's getting suspended for the whole year - what kind of punishment is that? In case you didn't know, only a few weeks prior, there was a big deal about how Artest wanted to take a month off, at the first of the season, so he could finish his rap album. Well there you go Ron - you can call yourself "the Artest formerly known as an NBA star," and just think of the street cred you'll have now that you've smacked the good bejesus out of an innocent little white dude, who barely scrambled away with his life for slipping around in his own piss. Stern obviously picked the wrong way to punish Artest. He should have sentenced him to a year playing Chess. "Knight to queen four, fool that's just wack - I could check-mate yo ass with one hand behind my back." (That was Chess rap, in case you were wondering and it helps if you imagine some heavy 'boom-bada-chickety," behind it.)

A good hearty Merry Christmas also should go out to good ole Scott Peterson. The holidays are always such a busy time for him - all that last-minute fishing to do. I suppose it's possible that the next big chair he sits on won't have a fat guy wearing a red costume. It does your heart good to see someone so obviously guilty of murdering his wife actually having to stay in jail. I don't mean to come off as a hard-liner, Capital Punishment is a tough one to call, but in Scott's case "the Chair" seems like too easy a way out. I say let him grow old with his metal toilet and his memories. I'm sure that hell will be just as unpleasant 50 years from now. It wouldn't surprise me though, if Naughty Scotty gets the hot-seat - and in the spirit of the season, let me be the first to sing "It's beginning to look a lot like Crispness." Ho ho ho.

Of course 2004 gave my home state of Utah it's very own Scott Peterson, in the person of Mark Hacking. Hacking certainly isn't the cold and calculating snake that Peterhead is, he's just not cut out for it. He's just a nutjob whom, I'm guessing was addicted to some kind of nasty drug. First of all, checking yourself into a nut-hospital hours after committing the heinous crime isn't the most brilliant of alibis, and now he's gone and pleaded "not guilty" having already confessed to the crime! Goodness, Utah gets 'em all, Bundy, Gilmore - at least (considering his name) Hacking didn't use an axe, or we'd be hearing about it for eternity. There'd be a "Lizzy Borden" song on everyone's lips . . . "then he married seven more and chopped them up at a convenience store." I don't mean to be so indelicate about something that's still a fresh wound, but if my guess is correct about him being a drug addict, and checking himself in to the nut ward to get a fix, it says quite a bit about what a monster drug addiction can be. Seriously, when you've just murdered your wife in cold blood and this only ranks second on your list of problems . . .

Obviously, the Iraqi War was perhaps the most devisive issue of 2004. I haven't got much to say about it, other than I thought it was a bit suspect that Secretary of Defense Colin Powell, has chosen now to bow out. My take on this move is that Powell had the good sense to gracefully step aside before everybody starts shooting off their nukes and the world goes to hell. Now nobody can point the finger at him if all this nasty business causes the world to end. Speaking of Colins, how courageous was it for New Jersey Governor James McGreevey to come clean about his homosexuality. That took some kiwis. Quite a selfless move, but you have to wonder if the revelation wasn't motivated by the need to prevent the exposure of one of his even more prominent "Colon Pals." I just love that joke, I made it up and, as Jack White has so eloquently pointed out, "it bears repeating, now."

It's certainly been another trying year for the perennially wacky Michael Jackson, he just can't seem to grasp the wisdom of lying low. We Americans have a short attention span - like I've mentioned before, take the example of Marv Albert. He got caught dressed-up in a Victoria's Secret teddy and heels, biting hookers. He was biting them. But hey, he laid low, took his act to the minors for a season or so and now he's right back on top - all is forgotten. His only punishment is he has to broadcast the Knicks.

Still Michael just can't seem to keep his privates private. As far as I'm concerned he never had the right to declare himself the king of anything, but if he's the "King of Pop" it's because he keeps getting popped. You'd think that someone with that much money could get the kind of help that would allow him to overcome his funny little problem with the youngsters? There's got to be some way for him to snap out of it. He just needs the right kind of therapy. I'm thinking if he would just hire three or four consenting adult midgets to sleep over at Neverland, he might be able to slowly wean himself off the shortys. You never know, it might be worth a shot - he doesn't bite.

And to continue with the theme of sexual misconduct, I'd have to say that 2004 wasn't such a great year for the "Compassionate Conservatism" espoused by Bill O'Reilly. The O'Reilly Factor took on a whole different meaning this year. It's more like Fear Factor. Goodness, the guy looks like an old lizard with a comb-over - and the fact that he's even thinking about sex gives me the shivers. If I were one of those female staffers who found herself caught in O'Reilly's Radar, I'd be outta there on a dead run. I'd grab my heals and take the stairs three at a time. It's really quite an unsettling thing to even have to think about. "Hi I'm Bill, I might appear stiff and creepy, but just wait till I get outta these slacks - it's no accident they call me an anchor man." I'm not a great man for casting aspersions, in fact I'm not a great man at all, but you have to be a little tickled when these self-righteous wind-bags like Limbaugh and O'Reilly get their comeuppance. Perhaps if O'Reilly would have hooked up with his pal Rush, he wouldn't have been so keen on mixing his "com" with his "passionate." Those pain killers tend to keep the blood from flowing to the places where it can cause all these problems.

Anyway, my word-count is getting a little high, so try to enjoy the holidays and I'll see y'all in "ott 5."