Super Bowl Preview

Even more brilliant than my "the better looking candidate always wins the presidency and the better looking he is than the other guy dictates how much he'll win by" theory is my "the Super Bowl mascot that would win a battle between the two represents the team that always wins." Think about it.

Or don't. I didn't really think about it until this moment, so this totally might not be true. Although, last year it was the Steelers and the Seahawks and I think it's perfectly reasonable to think that a well-armed steel worker could maim a seahawk. And before that, the Patriots beat the Eagles and I think a Patriot with a musket could likely take out an Eagle (but, obviously, the legitimacy of the title of "patriot" would brought into extreme question, killing an Eagle and all).

So that brings up to this year's match-up. Who you got?

vs.

Venting

See that vent at the top of this picture? The one in-between the cat statue and the upside boxes? The one above the kitchen windows?


It's been making noise. More specifically, the bird stuck inside has been making noise. It's fairly uncomfortable, probably more for the bird than me really, but still. I wanna be a good vegan -- I want to make sure I'm worthy of the Humane Society and PETA membership cards I carry in my wallet -- but it doesn't seem like there's a heck of a lot I can do for the bird besides root for it to get out. So, go bird! I'm pulling for you.

Hey, I didn't put a picture on that last entry!

Geez, after giving you visuals for so long, I can't suddenly just stop. So here's a picture of me juggling. Hopefully this makes everything better.

WMU College Republicans Rule!

WMU College Republicans nation's best

Congratulation, WMU College Republicans for all the fine work you've done in the years I've been at Western! You always bring in innovative thinkers who really do their part to create a discourse about our nation's issues while never bringing the discussion to the level of inane name-calling and blind partisanship. People like Ann Coulter who was here, not for her (alleged) sensationalism that would certainly create headlines but because of her strong ties to academia (of course, Western doesn't have a law school, but I'm sure there was a good reason she was here beyond the fact that she'd make those liberals mad. Right?)

Congratulations to the College Republicans for their great effort a couple of years ago when, to promote a Pat Buchanan reading on campus that happened to fall on Cesar Chavez Day, they posted flyers that read "Viva Buchanan," something that isn't at all racist or discriminatory, especially in light of the open and loving relationship Buchanan has long had with our Mexican neighbors.

And at long last these college Republicans are being recognized for their intelligence and insight. The week before the above mentioned Buchanan reading, a friend and I attended one of their meetings and, when someone asked, "Who is Cesar Chavez?" no one seemed to know, instead at first giving a description of Che Gueverra (Che Gueverra!) When someone finally did provide an answer, it was to describe Chavez as "the poor Mexican's Martin Luther King." It's that sensitivity that sets our college Republicans apart.

And let's not forgot the efforts these college Republicans make to brighten up campus, making sure their flyers are everywhere whether it's a place where flyers are permitted or not. And they're great with clean-up too, especially if it's another organization's event and they're against it--they'll show their desire for tidying the campus by taking down those flyers before the event even happens. That's dedication. And besides, who really wants to see An Inconvenient Truth? It's such a downer.

So, good work, College Republicans. You've earned it.

Here's a vegan guy

I was reading through my animal rights propaganda and it told me that my New Year's Resolution should be to display some vegan propaganda on my blog. Since my other New Year's Resolution (the one about eating less barbeque sauce) has gone pretty well (aside from last tuesday's 'drinking from the bottle,' but that was a tough day), I figured I'd post some vegan stuff on my blog. PETA'd probably want me to post something with baby bunnies being fed kitty hearts or something (shame on you KFC!)but I'll opt for this vegan cooking guy instead. And if the chance of being more like this guy doesn't convince you to go vegan, nothing will.

Oh, and for those of you I haven't actually met in the real world, this is pretty much exactly what I'm like. All vegans are like this.

Loy Toaster

So I was reading this article this morning...

Mystery visitor makes 58th appearance at Poe's Grave

And, obviously, it brought up the question of what celebrity/icon/etc. would I like to create the tradition of visiting on an annual basis simply to leave flowers and whatever item I feel represents my relationship with them. And with what celebrity would this ceremony be significant enough to warrant passing on the tradition to my future generations? And what would be and my future children/grandchildren wear to such a ceremony so that we would be recognized as clearly as the "Poe Toaster?"

So here's what I've come up with:

Mina Loy. She was an exceptional artist and writer and her poetry should certainly be more recognized than it currently is--perhaps the pilgrimages undertaken by me and my future generations will bring more attention to her work. That Poe Toaster's got it wrong--what's the use of making a spectacle around the memory of someone who is already more famous than they ought to be?

Besides, she's buried in Aspen and if I'm going to take an annual trek somewhere, it might as well be a vacation spot.

As for what to bring her, she's a writer who turned her nose at the traditional romantic notions of love so roses are out. I think, maybe a flower that has significantly non-romantic overtones would be more fitting. Flower experts out there can advise me as to what that might be.

And, to recognize her poems that satirized a series of travel guides by naming them after a popular series and then making the poems more of an internal guide to travel the self, I will bring a different Frommer's-type travel book about a different place each year and inside each book I will highlight words that could be connected into one of Loy's poems. Hey, if I had time to this pilgrimage, I figure I have time to do a lot of things.

And I'd wear a nice suit and try to look presentable. She was quite the looker back in the day.

So, fair readers, where would your pilgrimage lead you?

Before there was LOST, there was phone sex.

I'm not encouraging you to call this number. Keep that in mind. I just happen to recall a friend of mine referring to the character that the featured actress plays on some tv show or another as the embodiment of "sweaty post-feminism" (and I really shouldn't quote when I don't know the exact words. But whatever).

So, in the life of the actress, perhaps this is pre-feminism.

Still, I hope she met someone nice. And tall.

How 'bout a reading?

So, next Friday, 7:30 PM, 10th Floor, Sprau Tower, Western Michigan U., Kalamazoo, we're going to be throwin' ourselves a literary hootenanny complete -- Third Coast Grad Student Reading style -- with poetry, fiction, and who knows what else (that means just poetry and fiction, if you're wondering). Here are picture of the poets who will be performing that night, complete with bookshelves to add legitimacy. You know this guy. It's Jason Olsen, who promises to read a lot of stuff he's made you listen to before. Sound fun?


And you might know her...it's the lovely Cindy St. John! Her photo's legitimacy is much more, um, legit than mine above because mine is just an imitation. Her poems, of course, have no equal:

And here's Vincent Reusch, an iconoclast to the end. Books behind Vinny? Pashaw. (How does one spell that sound, really?) Give him a lake and some wide open spaces and he can make his own fiction --fiction that would be really really great.

So come and join us. Food and beverage will be provided. Any questions? Requests? Etc.? Post 'em in a comment, will ya?

You Got Yourself a Fish Biscuit!

I know I'm a complete lost cause. Did you notice the implied italics on the word lost in the last sentence? No? Well, I made a batch of Lost-themed cookies a couple months back and I figured I should show a picture of one of those cookies. Here it is:


Oh, did I mention that I took this picture today? As in this cookie has been sitting on my kitchen table for the last few months? Yeah, well, I've been meaning to photograph it for a while, just hadn't gotten around to it.

Anyway, I can throw it out now. I wonder if that will make my house smell any better?

Something Rotting in the Basement

I am indeed back -- spanning the continent from Vegas to Toronto (with an unnecessarily long stay in the airport in Chicago) -- and I am here to discuss an issue that is important to, likely, everyone. Yes, I want to talk about the way my apartment smells.

I was only back in town for a few hours on the terrible travel day after getting back to Kalamazoo (at 2:30 am) before turning around to leave on a bus for a weekend trip to Toronto (at 6:30 am), but I did notice something in the flurry of action and sleep that I managed in those four hours.

My house smells like cat pee. Like, really strong cat pee. It was awful really. For those needing a reminder, here is the leading candidate (of those in my household) to produce horrible smelling feline urine:

Well, after determining the main cause of this problem was likely two towels he had, ahem, marked, the situation in the bathroom -- and the house overall -- was improved. The place smells mostly of bleach now. Which is, if you were wondering, not quite what Bender's pee smells like. His pee smells more like futility and laziness.

This whole "bad smells" thing reminds me of something I was going to blog about before I left for Vegas -- I was minding my own business one fine December day last month, relaxing (not chillaxing, mind you, just relaxing) after lunch, when my wacky upstairs neighbor Amanda came by. Here's the packaged meal I had prepared and eaten that day (something I didn't think was half-bad):

Well, Amanda came into my kitchen and nodded with satisfaction, discovering the source of a smell that had been bothering -- nay, torturing her -- for a few minutes. Enough, evidently, to go downstairs in our shared basement to see if an animal had died and started rotting. Which she told me -- among other descriptions of what my lunch smelled like -- while it sat there in my stomach, likely being a bit offended. In my mind, my Simply Asia meal smelled and tasted fine, but to the outside world it was apparently more like the one out of three restaurants I passed in Toronto's Chinatown that had a pile of vomit sitting outside the front door.

So don't be a strong be a strong smell in my apartment, that's my warning to you. You might be too much for me and my friends to handle.

hiatus

This is a friendly note to inform you that Octopus vs. Chipmunk is (most likely) not going to be updated until the beginning of next month. I'm in Vegas and, while the computer I'm using here is fine (albeit a bit slow) for normal online functions, it doesn't really dig the idea of me updating my blog much (and it especially hates the idea of me using pictures and whatnot, which is really troublesome because all those pictues are necessary to create the illusion of cleverness that is so important to my blogging).

So Happy Holidays and be sure to check me out in January. Because, you know, creating an even greater illusion of cleverness and being more self-promotional (sometimes) are my New Year's resolution. Along with reading more books about woodworking and trying to make a documentary about Taft. You gotta have your thing.

Getting stronger

Okay, the thing is--I really like the Rocky movies. I once came to the rather sad conclusion that, no matter what else was on at the same time, I'd likely watch Rocky III if I happened to stumble across it while scanning the channels. As anyone who has watched Rocky III with the least amount of objectivity can attest (and that doesn't include me, of course) it's really kind of terrible. I mean, the plot is paper thin, the fights are ridiculous, the homo-eroticism is kind of silly. But, you know, if nothing else, you get to see Carl Weathers dressed like this:

(Most of this scene consists of Apollo and Rocky running along the beach in slow motion. They wrestle each other to the ground at one point. In sheer joy and happiness. No lie).

Anyway, what with the new Rocky movie coming out in a few weeks, it seems that Rocky-fever is gripping the nation. I mean, really, gripping the nation. Who hasn't felt it? (Put your hands down, America, you wise-crackers). And what with the torrent of conversation about the forthcoming Rocky, we have also experienced a deluge of new Rocky merchandise.

Actually, I have no idea if that's true. It probably isn't. Deluge? Torrent? Yeah, that's stretching it. But I did see some new Rocky action figures in Toys R Us when I was looking for a large foam airplane a couple of months ago and they were--what's the word?--hype. And before I go off on the easy route of jokes here--the whole "what kid would actually want a Paulie action figure?" tirade--obviously these action figures would be less geared toward kids and more geared toward dorks like me that actually think their desk and/or bookcase would benefit from
the addition of this:

And for everyone playing along at home wondering, "What does Jayce want for Christmas?" let it be known that my earlier comment was a joke. My bookcase would not benefit from having a Paulie doll. It would benefit, however, from this....

Holy Crap! It's a Brent Musberger action figure! This might be stupidest action figure that has ever existed in the history of the world (and, yeah, that's a challenge. Please prove me wrong). But still, Brent Musberger? The sportscaster? I'm really holding out hope that the figure is so popular that an entire wave of sportscaster action figures follow. Oh, the possibilities. But those possibilities, dear reader, I leave to you. Because now I have something bigger on which to focus my attention. I must focus my attention to this:

There are no words, my friends. There are simply no words.

Spoon!

Chapel loves T.J. Maxx. Personally, I think it's fairly uninteresting, but everytime I mention needing anything -- anything -- she tells me, "oh T.J. Maxx has that and it's cheap." And I have bought a couple of things there -- a cookie sheet, a big red bowl, and a cutting board come immediately to mind -- that I think we're fairly smart purchases, but there's one purchase from T.J. Maxx that was not a smart purchase, though I can't blame myself for it.

The purchase in question would be these measuring spoons:

They look fairly passable, right? (And that T.J. Maxx cutting board behind them is handsome) I mean, these spoons are stainless steel, attractive, and (perhaps most importantly) look capable of measuring things. So they would certainly appear to be a smart purchase. They were sealed up when I bought them (so that I could only see the first spoon), but I had no reason to think this purchase would be ill-advised.



There are five spoons in this collection and these are the first two. Pinch and 1/8 tsp. Now, I thought it was kinda cool when I saw these spoons that "pinch" was one of the measurements because you don't see that everyday (likely because you don't need to, but whatever). But having "pinch" and 1/8 tsp seems pretty limited. And these spoons, it becomes quite clear, are dedicated to the teaspoon, so the chances of finding a rather useful "tablespoon" measuring spoon are slim, which limits the value of this set. But teaspoons are being called for in recipes all over the non-metric world and what with 1/4 and 1/2 tsps and that all important 1 teaspoon measurement right around the corner, there's no need to worry.


Or worry. 2/3 teaspoons? Is this that necessary? Does this come up often enough to actually warrant the dedicated spoon? All right, the suspense is killing me, what are the last two spoons?

You know what I say to you, T.J. Maxx? Screw you. You sell me a set of teaspoon measuring spoons and there is not a spoon in the collection that measures a teaspoon? Or even a 1/2 teaspoon? Who is this product being marketed to (besides dumb guys that don't pay enough attention to things before they buy them?)? Is this for the measuring spoon collector who has everything?

So I had to get a Kitchen Aid measuring spoon set that was less stainless steel but much more red and a lot more useful. I have held onto these though. Just in case I need exactly a 1/8 and a pinch of something, I'll be ready.

My Many Faces

Look. It's some earlier shorter-haired version of me from what I assumed would be a long-since abandoned website page. But here it is. I found this picture when I was image searching my name. I thought it might be interesting to see what other Jason Olsen's look like. So I decided to undertake this search using the Alta Vista Image Search option because, really, who uses Alta Vista anymore? Let's love Alta Vista. They need us. Google doesn't need us. They only pretend.


This guy needs his dad. They're fixing a car together and they look tired. Or maybe dad just looks tired. Or frustrated. He'd be more frustrated if that Jason Olsen next to him helping him with that car was me because I'd be even less help. For example, I've been referring to that vehicle as a car. It's clearly a truck. So, yeah, this would end badly.




I know him...that's Major Jackson! He's a very good, very cool poet with whom I conducted an interview in Third Coast a few years ago. He and I look very little alike, really, but this picture does pop up when I searched out myself, evidently because that aforemention interview is on Major's website. If you're not familiar with him, check out his site -- www.majorjackson.com



I think my namesake is riding that bull with the scary eyes. My namesake is a bit crazy, but whatever. I'm also guessing this Jason Olsen is not at all a vegan. But maybe he's one of those bullriders who is trying to end the abuse of animals from the inside. Much like the guy I saw once on the hot dog eating championships who claimed to be a vegetarian. Except those few occasions in which he would eat, say, 32 hot dogs in 12 minutes. Other than that, total vegetarian.


Dude. I am not and never was one of these guys. But one of them shares my name. Somewhere during this conversation, that guy in the Champion shirt (is that made of of mesh?!?) made the comment that Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was the best album ever made and that guy sitting on the edge of the couch showed his agreement by falling off the arm of the couch onto the ground. The guy in the middle laughed hysterically for the next forty five minutes, forgetting what he was laughing about ten or twelve seconds in.



Is she really as happy as she should be? That's a Jason Olsen she's touching heads with. I'm worried about this thing between them. Sigh. It's out of my control. Perhaps I should just move on.




This Jason Olsen is likely in a band. I'm hoping that shirt is part of the band uniform. It's pretty rocking. If he's not in a band, I hope he's a lawyer or something.



This Jason Olsen is a game developer. I think. I wonder if he's responsible for all those Nintendo controllers people are throwing into their TV's and shattering? That new Wii controller, the one you swing all motion-sensor-like around to use, evidently slides out of people's hands and into TV's. And windows. And babies. I don't know about the babies part, honestly, but maybe. And it might be my namesake's fault.

Look at him, smirking. Thinking of all the broken babies and televisions. Sigh, I cannot help what the other Jason Olsens do.

Everywhere I go, there's music

Because I pretty much allow my iPod to dictate the direction of my day and life, it seemed appropriate to highjack this little game from somebody else's blog. Hopefully my iTunes are as kind and occasionally funny and Nicky's were....

The rules are simple. Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING. Cheating is for losers. Cheaters never prosper. For visual aid, here is a cheater:

I mean, unless you count making millions of dollars, breaking countless records, and breaking countless hearts (I'm assuming). Regardless, I have not used any illegal steroids over the course of this blog entry. I did, of course, drink horse urine but as far as I know that isn't illegal. Yet.

Questions!

How does the world see you?
“I’ve Always Been Crazy” – Waylon Jennings

Sigh, World, c’mon, after all we’ve been through? You still think I’m crazy? Even after all those times where it was my absolute sanity that ended up saving the day? Oh well, I can’t question you. Well, as the song's lyric goes, “I’ve always been crazy, but that’s kept me from going insane.” So maybe this is a compliment!

Will I have a happy life?
“Grindstone” – Uncle Tupelo

“every hour will be spent/filling a quota, just getting along” Yay, life! Sign me up for more! And let's hope more of my life will be represented by feel-good Uncle Tupelo lyrics. Those guys just make you feel happy all over!

What do my friends really think of me?
“You’re so Good to Me” – The Beach Boys

Gee whiz, friends! You’re swell! I tell you, if there's one thing I've got it's a good bunch of friends. Even if they didn't actually have anything to do with this. And they all mock me behind their backs. But maybe they do recognize how good I am to them.

What do people secretly think of me?
“Soul of a Man” -- Ollabelle

So they secretly question the strength and quality of my soul? I just ask the world to keep this a secret so I don't have to address it. I like to keep my soul to myself.

How can I be happy?
“Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You” – Bob Dylan

Well, I’m not exactly sure who “you” are in this situation, but I suppose there is a chance that such a night could lead to happiness. (I almost spelled that last word “happyness.” Screw you, Will Smith with your movie and its faulty spelling.)

What should I do with my life?
"Comin’ Around" – Steve Earle

I was hoping this game would elucidate everything for me. That, however, was way too vague. Do better next time, random iTunes game.

What is some good advice for me?
“No Other Baby” – Paul McCartney

Ooookay, iTunes. Thanks for clearing that up. What I'm hoping for is that in ten years, I'll be facing my darkest moment looking for some kind of brilliant advice and I'll think "Wait a minute...what was that song I was supposed to listen to?" And, of course, I'll never remember it, because this song to ridiculously obscure. And I'll never get the necessary advice. And then I'll cry. A lot.

How will I be remembered?
“Shame on You” – Hot Hot Heat

All right, so my memory will be wrapped up in shame. Beautiful. If only I'd remember the name of that Paul McCartney song. Everything would be different.

What is my signature dancing song?
“Brown Eyed Girl” – Van Morrison

I just can’t keep my feet still. But only with this song. It’s my signature dance song. It makes me sing Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da.

What do I think my current theme song is?
“Let It Be” – A Nick Cave cover of The Beatles

Man, who knew how deep I was? And me, in my amazing depth, can't even be satisfied with that trite Beatles version. I need Nick Cave to express my current emotions.

What does everyone else think my current theme song is? “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” – Bob Dylan

Well, at least everyone else thinks I’m deep too. So, thanks, everyone else.

What song will play at my funeral?
“Be True to Your School” – Beach Boys

I certainly hope this song is played at my funeral. In fact, I am going to demand it. Let me write a note right now. Okay done.

What type of men/women do you like?
“Country Trash” – Johnny Cash

Yep, that pretty much sums it up.

What is my day going to be like? “Touch the Hand” – Conway Twitty
Oh. I’ve got nothing I can say to that.

I'd love to lay you down

Are you having trouble finding the right words to say when you're trying to convince a virgin that she ought to be deflowered? Do you get tongue-tied when you need to describe your sexual effectiveness to a lady friend? Do you not know what to say when a woman thinks that maybe she ought to leave you and all the wonderful times you've had together? Are you searching for the right words to that'll allow you to lay down that lovely lady you've been eyeing? Well, there's only one man who can help you. And here he is.

That's right. Conway Twitty's here to break off the knowledge.

I don't know what I'm saying
as my trembling fingers touch forbidden places
I only know that I have waited
for so long for the chance that we are taking
I don't know andIi don't care
what made you tell him you don't love him
anymore and as I taste your tender kisses
I can tell you've never been this far before









Touch the hand of the man
that made you a woman.







I want to look inside your soul
before I lay you down.
I want to know you
before I make love to you.















There's a lot of ways of saying
what I wanna say to you
there's songs and poems and promises
and dreams that might come true
but I won't talk of starry skies
or moonlight on the ground
I'll come right out and tell you
I'd just love to lay you down

I Have No Reason to Be Afraid of Anything

I'm holding, in my hand, the primary line of defense in my house. It's not just a pinata stick. It is the pinata stick. A remnant from some party from some forgotten age, the pinata stick has long stood tall as my unflinching security system.

When, last year, I heard people sneaking around my back door, snooping around my basement, checking to see if the door was unlocked, what do you think I did? I grabbed that pinata stick, that's what I did. And I held it in hand as I asked them what they thought they were doing. One of them bolted out of the house. The other stammered a nervous excuse before the pinata stick and I decided to let him live.

Sure, since Kevin moved in, we have his wide array of baseball bats, Civil War muskets, and Ninja Stars, but I'll keep this stick by my side.

Come on, punk. Get a little closer. So I can break you open. Let's find out what kind of candy you're stuffed with.

(Hey, kids, wanna play the "what's happening in the background of this picture" game? Well, for starters, Bender's eating! Neat! Longtime readers are well aware of Bender's affection for food! And, look, over on the stove--somebody's left a wooden spoon on a burner. Uh oh! That could be trouble!)

Me & Bender

My cat and I have many small differences between us. For example, I don't mind wearing neckties and he hates them. He enjoys sleeping in small cardboard boxes, while I prefer beds. He likes to chase small toys that make bird sounds and I...well, maybe we have some things in common, but mostly not.

But there is one major difference between us--the personal relationship each of us has with food.

My relationship with food is primarily defined by two things: necessity and guilt. This isn't to say that I don't have things that I like to eat--I do. And when visiting the family especially, I eat a lot of those things. But when I'm home and busy and life is out of control (which I usually make it even when it really doesn't have to be), I have a tendency to only eat when I have to. So, you know, brink of dizziness because of lack of food.

And the guilt thing plays into my veganism, obviously. I don't have the variety of choices that other people have because of my somewhat obsessive concern for the treatment of others. I don't mind most of the comments from people about veganism, either. Except for the whole "well, you know lettuce have feelings, too" and "vegetables have physical reactions when you cut them" crap. Look, that's all fun and games to you, but I take this stuff seriously. I'm a little emotionally unstable, you know. If I am really convinced that a carrot cries inside when it's sliced, then I've got nothing. Nothing.

Anyway, enter Bender:

He just doesn't have the same concerns. For Bender, food equals love. Food equals a cure for his midnight boredom. Food equals bliss. So he likes to eat. He eats like a dog, really, sticking his face deep in the food bowl, not breathing until the bowl is empty.

He'll cry in the morning. He'll cry a little in the afternoon. Whenever Bender isn't being feed quickly enough, he'll let you know. And, sadly, it's not like he's working the pounds off very quickly. I've even provided the photographic evidence. Sigh. I'm not going to call him fat because he's my cat and he lives with me. But you can call that, I guess.

Let's not get the wrong idea about either one of us, though. I don't think of myself as the crazy "world is ending" kind of vegan, blowing up buildings and all that. And Bender is very sweet and affectionate. After he's eaten a quarter of his weight in cat food.

I just want everyone to know what they're getting into in case you invite Bender and me over for dinner. We expect to get several invitations soon.

Basketball rocks!

College basketball is back! Man, that's exciting stuff. I hope we're able to get a game as compelling as the Bradley vs. Pittsburgh showdown that took place last season. See?

I hope Georgetown plays Clooney College this year.

Board 2

So, Robin's reply to my last post about the need for a Nip/Tuck board game (which would be genius) made me wonder how exactly that last post of mine didn't end up in a discussion about what TV shows would make great board games.


Emily's Reasons Why Not
This is based on that Heather Graham show that was on last year. The object is to see how long you can play before somebody runs over to the game, takes the board, laughs at you, and then kicks you in the face.

It can be play alongside with the board game based on John Stamos' show Jake in Progress, which, compared to Emily's Reasons Why Not ran had a run that rivaled FDR.

Monk
The object is to win without touching the game board or any of the playing pieces. I'd have more clever things to say if I'd ever seen an episode of Monk But I'm just assuming that that wacky OCD is the driving gag of the show, so there you go.



According to Jim

The object is to collect as many Jim-isms as possible and say them in your best "Jim" voice. One of the most exciting challenges is the fun-filled "What would Jim do" round where you handle tough issues like "It's Jim's anniversary, but the guys are going to play cards. What would Jim do?" Oh, the fun.

Another intriguing aspect of this game is that it goes on for much longer than you'd expect it to. Years, in fact.

The Nine
Just like the Lost board game, except no one will actually play it. But it's the second game on our list with a former cast member of Wings. The Wings board game is still in the developmental stages. 'Cause I can't think of anything funny to say about it (like that's stopped me so far. But still).

Dancing with the (Pet)Stars
This is the dream game for Mario Lopez fans! Each of the playing pieces is Mario from a different stage of his career (Slater Mario, Greg Louganis Mario, Pet Star Mario, That Talk Show that was Kind Of a Male Version of the View Mario, Dancin' Mario) and you move him around the board and have adventures and stuff.