Hmm, this is a hard one.

Apparently people (i.e. men) that watch Major League Baseball games are the exact demographic being targeted for ED Medication, also known as Boner Pills. Viagara, Enzyte, Cialis, Coxafloppin*, you name it. When I watch a ballgame, I see nothing but ads for an entirely different ballgame. The latest one from Cialis features their now famous couple in matching outdoor bathtubs. In fact, it shows multiple couples in various outdoor bathtubs in different settings.


So, I think I've found a fundamental flaw in all of this. Cialis is recommended for guys with erectile dysfunction, but what if none of these guys has ED and is simply having trouble pitching wood because, well, THEY'RE OUTSIDE IN THE EVENING IN THE MOUNTAINS IN A FUCKING BATHTUB! Have these people never seen Seinfeld? Some things just simply don't, uh, work properly when cold and wet. Seriously, try a fireplace and a terrycloth robe before popping a pill to juice your junk. Just saying.

*NOTE: Coxafloppin not a real "dead head med" but should be.

Optimal View

So it appears the modest folks over at Calvin Klein jeans have once again decided to put up another boring billboard in downtown Manhattan. The billboard depicts a topless woman in short jean shorts lying on top of one man while making out with another. Innocently enough, there is another man lying on the floor below them all with his shirt and his pants unbuttoned. If I had to guess, I would say they are in various states of undress because they are rushing to get dressed for a church social.


Anyway, there has been something of an uproar over the decency or indecency of this billboard, which is pretty much exactly what the folks at CK wanted. Newspapers, radio stations and Internet articles have been abuzz with commentary, but here at The Missing LiNK, we wanted to get insight from the person who occupies the billboard directly across the street and has the absolute best view of the faux porn ad: Optimus Prime.

TML: So, Optimus, how do you feel about this new addition to your neighborhood?

OP: Are you kidding? I've been stuck 50 yards away from that fucking SoBe lizard for a few weeks now. I was ready to make that little bastard into roadkill if someone less irritating didn't move into the area and soon. The lizard is still behind me, but he can suck my tailpipe for all I care, I get to stare at a denim orgy all day.

TML: So you like the ad?

OP: Like it? That chick is freaking hot. And that's coming from a guy who's used stealth mode to watch Megan Fox shower.

TML: But what do you say to the people who call it akin to pornography?

OP: Come on. I've spent a lot of time the last few years in L.A. Photographers for TMZ discard shots of Lindsay Lowhan passed out in a dumpster that show more objectionable bits and pieces. Seriously, does she ever wear underwear? Talk about Ironhide.

TML: Even if it isn't overtly pornographic, you have to admit that it's at least objectifying and misogynistic. Three men sharing one woman?

OP: Maybe, but they' selling a product. And it's effective advertising. If I felt that I could get a chick like that to mess around with me, Ratchet and Grimlock all at the same time just by wearing the right jeans, I'd be looking for a pair in size 18-wheeler double wide right now.

TML: So then you believe the expression "sex sells?"

OP: Hmmm...a cartoon and toy line that more or less never included a female presence gets turned into a movie and the planet's hottest female gets more screen time than the Autobots and Decepticons combined. You tell me.

TML: Good point. And they're really aren't too many female Transformers, are there?

OP: Eventually there were a few, but nothing to brag about. I kept pitching the Hasbro guys on new characters like the Sluttobots and the Skankticons, but they refused to listen.

TML: Lastly, what of the families who live in that neighborhood and have to see the CK billboard everyday. What do they tell their kids?

OP: Tell them Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen opens June 24th at a theater near you. Transformer lunchboxes, knapsacks, action figures, underwear, toothbrushes, prosthetic limbs and colonial era apothecary tables available upon request.

TML: Optimus, thanks for your time.

OP: Word.

Cross(word) Training

As I may have mentioned in the past, my friend (and author of the always enjoyable blog, EADJ) Dave E. and I have a spirited, ongoing Scrabble competition on Facebook. I used to beat him with regularity, but he stepped up his game and beat me a few times in a row. Problem is, I hate to lose. Always have, always will. So I decided it was time to up my game, and that meant serious training. How do you train for Scrabble? Well, see for yourself.

A Special Appearance by Roy G. Biv

Some evenings you take a crowded train home only to be greeted by a crowded train station as people all pile on to a crowded bus. But other nights you decide to walk because it stopped raining. And you don't even get a a block away before you see this...



(my BlackBerry isn't really idea for shooting these pics, but there was one of the most clearly visible, full-color rainbows I've ever seen directly over Long Beach.)

Dude, sometimes, God is just cool.

Forrest Mutherfucking Whitaker!

New Music - More Music Videos

Just another Saturday in Long Beach.

The huge, over-exposed ass cheeks in Brazil. The roller skating weight-lifters wearing spandex in LA. The freaks (both professional and in the general population) wandering Coney Island. For whatever reason, public beaches and boardwalks have always been places where the oddest swatches of humanity congregate.

Take my hometown, for instance. Long Beach, NY. The City By The Sea. What wonders might one see if they decided to stroll up and down the 2.2 mile boardwalk on a Saturday morning? Well...

It all started, as many beach excursions do, with our friend, Metal Detector Guy.


This modern day 49er looks to find his fortune by mining through Chipwich wrappers and seagull shit hoping to find the gold plated bracelet that some guy named "Avi" dropped while playing Kadima with his hairy-backed cousin.

Like many boardwalks, the Long Beach boardwalk has a lane dedicated for bicyclists. In this lane, you'll see all sorts of sights, like tandem bikes and bikes dragging little wheeled pup tents filed with kids and seated bikes and hand-pedaled bikes and on and on. Maybe even the occasional unicycle. And, most notably, you will always see one or more guy like this: Unnecessarily Tall Bicycle Guy.


That's right. Nothing screams please notice me any louder than riding a bike with a seat 3 feet higher than normal for no practical reason whatsoever. And just because you like to get high doesn't mean your bike has to be that way too. How do I know he likes to get high? Well, he's riding that bike. Barefoot and shirtless. And has a beard that extends from his neck and not his face. And he has a pale, long-haired friend who rides next to him on a similar bike. And then they pull over and meet their other friends and play hackey sack on the boardwalk. The only way I'd be more sure was if he was hanging out with Snoop Dogg and Ricky Williams while licking a shirt worn by Woody Harrelson.

As I progressed further towards the west end of Long Beach, I noticed a fairly professional sporting area set up on the beach. Was it the AVP beach volleyball tour? Nope, that's in July and August. Was it Budweiser Volleyball Invitational? No, that's still a few weeks away. This was a less familiar yet all-too-common site. This was a group of We Act Like We Think This Sport Will Take Off But We Know It Will Never Go Anywhere Guys.


You see, late last summer, the "Beach Tennis USA" folks started loudly hyping their awesome new sport to the Long Beach crowd. They had the biggest names in their sport (I don't even have a joke for this. The biggest names in Beach Tennis? Really? Just think of something clever and chuckle to yourself) appear and hold a big exhibition match. They played music, gave away prizes, demonstrated the sport and gave individual clinics. And after all that, I could still only think of the words of the immortal Homer J. Simpson.
"They were the suckiest bunch of sucks that ever sucked"

The last oddity that caught my eye on Saturday was this:


No matter how hard I thought about it, I could not for the life of me figure out how or why a desktop PC monitor would end up in a public trash can on a beachside boardwalk. Someone had to consciously decide to take a non-functioning monitor with them from their apartment, walk or drive to the Long Beach area, climb up an entrance ramp and cross to the seaward side of the boardwalk to deposit said monitor in the trash. WTF?

Anyway, that's just some of the weirdness you might enjoy spending a day in my hood. Unfortunately, I was unable to discreetly photograph the young woman who thought it was best to jog the boardwalk in a jogging bra and tight silver metallic short shorts. Jogger stripper? Stripper jogger? I'm still trying to do the math on how you can slip a twenty into the pants of someone as they run by.

My slow and steady march towards insanity.

Someday, many, many years from now, when I lie on my deathbed hooked up to tubes and monitors, I will use my last breath to eke out a "Citizen Kane"-esque final phrase. And when everyone is sitting around wondering what the hell "9MPH" means, this blog posting from the year 2009 will be the answer.


I know it's not a big deal, but it's the little things that will ultimately lead me into a haze of alzheimers, schizophrenia and dementia. Things like trying to figure out why in the world this sign ever needed to be made (and in turn, why the rule it enforces is needed as well). Somewhere there's a sign shop where hundreds of "10MPH" signs are already produced and waiting to be sold and hung. But for some reason, the Tropicana Resort and Casino in Atlantic City (home of New Jersey's most mediocre Hooters franchise) feels the need to enforce a 9 mile per hour speed limit in their parking garage, and to place a sign reminding us of it at every possible turn. Really? Would gunning it up to 10 mph suddenly put life and limb in mortal danger? Is 9 scientifically proven to be the safe speed for degenerate gamblers looking to park their Kias and Saturns?

Whatever, it's just a stupid sign. But it bugged the living piss out of me.