Duff Beer for Me

Because I'm sure everyone else has done one...

I present myself, Simpsonized:

The Simpsons

Twenty years ago a cartoonist named Matt Groening created a series of shorts for one of the very first shows presented on the FOX network. He called them The Simpsons and they ran in-between skits on The Tracey Ullman Show.

Here is the first one, originally aired on April 19th, 1987:



After they got their own show it got a lot better. Like "Mr. Sparkle", for example:



There is really no need to go into a long, detailed analysis of why The Simpsons is The Greatest Show Ever. Those that know this fact don't need any more convincing. It is what it is.

Some people like the Homer-falls-down gags, some people like the Halloween episodes, some people like the colorful supporting characters. (My favorite: it's still Troy McClure.) For those that really get it, though, it's the writing, the little obscure lines that stick in the head. The glories of the Conan O'Brien episodes, and the last hurrah of Season Eight. (It never has been quite as good since that year.)

I don't watch the new episodes religiously, partly because they haven't been as good, partly because I think I judge them too harshly. Best to catch them on a syndicated rerun, where they stand a better chance, mixed in with all the others. There was one involving a cardboard box fort that was pretty good.

I think the best way to sum it up is this: for most of the 1990s, my friends and I could have entire conversations where we would do nothing but do lines from the show. And not just quote the show, but use the line as a replacement for something else. Instead of saying, "Oh, now I know who you're talking about," you simply say, "Oooohhhh, Sideshooow Bob!"

When I'm in the middle of talking with someone, and someone else walks in to ask me a question, most of the time I will end the conversation with, "So I says to Mabel, I says...Hold on-I'll finish this later."

Don't understand a word of anything: "Bees are on the what now?"

And such and such. It's obnoxious, and very Gen-X-We-Quote-Everything-From-Pop-Culture, but it's a compulsion that can't be helped.

"Ever see a guy say good-bye to a shoe?!"

The 2007 Hal 8-Ball Invitational

It was another one of those weekends where I pack the bag and head off to other parts of Illinois. This weekend it was the state capital, Springfield, to visit the Drone 1047, who shall be referred to as Hal in this post, because otherwise it sounds like I was visiting an escaped cyborg slave from the distant future.

The long drives are good for catching up on different things stored on my iPod, so I listened to some of this and to an episode of this. Learned a lot about the tattoos and guilds of actuaries and once again wound up stopping at the same exact McDonalds near Bloomington for a piss break. And some fries. And coffee, because John Hodgman's voice was a bit too soothing for a long car drive.


Hal and his wife just had a baby and so I got to see the little guy for the first time, and he's a good looking kid, but all he does is cries and poops and sleeps right now. I'm looking forward to a few years from now when he asks to play with Hal's extensive action figure collection, and Hal has to think about what his answer will be.

In addition to the normal visiting and catching up, Hal had himself a birthday party and pool tournament, populated by a couple dozen or so work friends and spouses of said work friends. You never know what you're going to get when you hear "work friends," much less "work friends who work for politicians and who may secretly wish to become politicians themselves one day." One imagines well-coiffed, smiley individuals with Brock Sampson-like handshakes, all speaking some hidden language about redistricting and reapportioning.

Thankfully that wasn't the case. Hal's friends are all extremely likable people, and I could tell there was a lot of love and respect for the guy, which was great, because Hal is the most admirable of all hobbits. I felt right at home with them and, in spite of me being the outsider amongst the group, I felt welcomed and part of the group.

We also played pool in the basement. Made it past the first round, after beating a bearded guy in a Whalers jersey, and found myself facing my BFF himself the second round. Came close to winning, but Hal ended up going on to face a spitfire of a player named Kate in the final round.

He would have won it, too, had he not scratched on the Eight ball. Poor bastard.


There were cash prizes and medals which everyone wore proudly. There was also a medal ceremony. Somehow Hal Jr. slept through most of it and as the party wound down to the last few people, we crashed on the couch and watched a bit of the glorious season 8 of The Simpsons.

It's the one with the burlesque house.