Now that we have some time, a few things to catch up on…

Next Friday, November 20, my dad and I will be setting off from Los Angeles to drive across the great land to Philadelphia, as part of the Mulgrew Men Conquer America Tour (Part Two). I will not be posting at all that week, and instead will be using Twitter to give updates from the road, post pictures, take suggestions, etc. Therefore, you should follow me if you want to read about it.

If you don’t have Twitter, I assure it’s not scary and it’s easy to sign-up. At first, I didn’t like it at all – why the hell do I care if you’re going to take a nap or hate studying for GMAT or whatever? – but then, I sort of “got it” and use it primarily as a news/sports news aggregator. And I’ve since learned that it’s very easy to do from my phone. So I kinda dig it.

And of course, I’m hoping it makes a nice outlet while spending ten hours a day in a car with my chain-smoking father. Also, I look forward to taking pictures of foods I eat that are both exotic (to me) and wholly American.

As for which route we’re going to take, a number of you chimed with suggestions. The majority of you said the same thing: “Dude, take #4.” But as I explained, this is just not possible with a 55 year old man with a bad back and the bladder of an 85 year old man. So while I realize it would be awesome, I’ll have to save it for another time.

After spending the first night in Vegas, we’re gonna go with either #2 or #3. This leads us to the other reason why Twitter works great for the trip: you guys can give me real-time suggestions. For example, I might say, “Pulling into Albuquerque for the night – car smells like ASS!!!!.” Maybe you live in Albuquerque and could say, “Hey Jason, great steaks at ___”? Or maybe you live in Albuquerque and you and your girlfriends are really crazy and want to get into a little something nasty and/or consciously make a bad decision strictly for the sake of the story? Twitter. So follow me there.

[All of this is dependent on AT&T having reasonable coverage, by the way. I noticed on my recent trip to NYC that AT&T blows, so I'm not sure how much hope I'm going to hold out for northern Texas or southern Missouri. Let's keep our fingers crossed.]

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Thank you for all the kind words about the October monthly email, “the jerk (twice).” As I’ve said time and time again, the best props you can give me is to pass on anything that you like on here. I’m not gonna lie, this is going to become even more important, as my book will be released on March 2, 2010. Uncle Jason needs to get famous, to get some money and to make out with two girls at once. So if you like the monthly emails (or any posts or anything, really), just forward it along to friends, co-workers, whatever. Don’t mean to beg here, but again, I really want to make out with two girls at the same time. Or touch four boobies at the same time. Either one.

And if you haven’t signed up already for the monthly email, well, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you. While I’m hoping that my return to NYC will lead to an increase in posting (since, you know, I’ll be doing stuff), I’m committed to making the monthly email a big part of the site. (And hey, I’ve done two in a row!) So if you want the content, go on and sign up.

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Speaking of the book (and since I’m practically begging you for all kinds of shit), in anticipation of its release, there are going to be some changes (good changes, I think) to the site. Site Guy Brendan is at the ready, but if you are anywhere from “good” to “bad-ass” at graphic design and would like to lend a hand and join the JM.com Team, please shoot me an email.

I gotta be upfront: there are no real benefits to joining the team and offering to help out with book/site stuff. I am a tyrant and impossible to work for, and most of the time I will email you only to send you pictures of really overweight black people fucking each other. However, if you do help out, I’m willing to pimp whatever you want on here and buy you drinks should we actually meet in real life. Also, you’ll get to see some book-related stuff before anyone else does.

(And yes, I did get money for this book and could – in theory – pay others to help me. But by the time the IRS and the agents and lawyers take their chunks, then you take out all the money for expensive bottled water and wine that I never end up drinking and, of course, those pictures of overweight black people having sex with each other, you’re not really left with much.)

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I should probably say something about the Phillies appearance in the World Series, but boy, is that stale now. But, my thoughts are pretty simple:

1) Hamels and Lidge were not good all year. The former was horrible in the playoffs; the latter returned to his regular season in the playoffs at the worst possible time.

2) Simply put, the better team won. I read some sportswriter who said it was refreshing that the two best teams in the league during the regular season played each other in the World Series, and the four best regular season teams all played in the LCS. Couldn’t agree more.

3) Winning a championship last year really changed everything. It’s not as though I didn’t care this time around – far, far from it – but I think I would have been popping Xanax like Pez if we were going for our first championship since 1980 against the Yankees. Yowza.

4) Next year, every major component returns except possibly Pedro Feliz and Pedro Martinez. Hopefully, Hamels gets his shit together, and sometime around next July we’re looking at a rotation of Cliff Lee – Cole Hamels – J.A. Happ – Joe Blanton – Kyle Drabek. I’ll take that.

All in all, I have to feel pretty content and thankful for the greatest two-year run of sports in my lifetime. Which isn’t bad.

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Six Songs

“2002″ Bob Schneider
Guy writes letter to his girlfriend detailing what’s gone on with him since she left him (hint: it ain’t good). Great, great song, and worth the 99 cents if you like to get drunk alone and feel sorry for yourself (um, who doesn’t?). I can’t wait to write this song in about eight years, but a much, much crappier version, for the most part without any rhymes or melody and instead with a lot of curses words and groans and things crashing and a dog flipping out in the background.

“Twice As Hard” The Black Crowes
Speaking of getting drunk alone, I think we all forget how good the Black Crowes were/are. Whether I have one beer in me or sixteen, every time I hear this song, the same thing happens: I turn it up as loud as it can possibly go. (Go ahead – download and listen to it now. I promise you’ll be blasting through your headphones within 20 seconds.) Just an absolutely fantastic, dirty-rock, getting-fucked-up-and-partying track.

“When Your Lover Has Gone” Ben Webster and Oscar Peterson
I don’t know shit about jazz, but this song is about as close to aural Xanax as it gets.

“How Can I Forget” Marvin Gaye
I own only three box sets, but, if I may speak frankly, they are likely the three most important and awesome box sets to own if you consider yourself a fan of music even a lil’ tiny bit. They are Velvet Underground’s “Peel Slowly and See”, “Five Guys Walks Into A Bar” by The Faces, and Marvin Gaye’s “The Master: 1961-1984.” VU makes me feel smart, moved and impressed with myself; The Faces make me rock; and Marvin makes me dance. I have no idea if this particular song was a hit of Marvin’s (I mean, I know it wasn’t a huge hit), but boy, does this one get my hips a-shakin’ and my hands a-clappin’. You truly were the master, Marvin.

[Whoops - just realized I was given AC/DC's "Bonfire" for my 30th birthday. I wouldn't recommend that one, if only because, in the wrong hands, it can lead to a lot of damage to one's ears, home and relationship, since you'll be inclined to leave your lover and dedicate your life to ROCK.]

“Rattlesnake Charm (Dream Machine)” Sean Hayes
If you’re the kind of person who likes to put on a song, smile, do a bit of nodding, and generally feel good about yourself and life and everything, you might want to check this one out. I’ve been thinking about how to describe this one forever, and this is the best way I think I can do it. And I’m ok with that.

“Kathleen” Josh Ritter
“All the other girls here are stars/You are the Northern Lights.” I mean, if you tell a girl that you wrote this line about her, you get carte blanche, right? Christ, I blush when I hear this line.

This is one of the 108 (out of 9700+) five-stars songs on my iTunes, and with good reason. I thought I’d pimped this before, so I looked it up and I did – five years ago. And yet, every time I hear it, I still get those same chills: it reminds me of all those high school parties in the fall, at houses in the suburbs when parents were away, where guys and girls stand around drinking keg beer and getting drunk for the first or second or less-than-twentieth time and hoping that something magical happens. And at the party, there’s the one girl who, well, is the Northern Lights among all the stars.

[By the way, good analogy by ol' Josh. He's still saying that the other girls are "stars," but that one girl is just much better. Could have been, "All the other girls here are chuck/You are filet mignon" or "All the other girls here are garbage/You are that really expensive thing that accidentally got thrown out." Or, alternatively, he could have gone with "All the other girls here are AIDS/You are the common cold." So hey, you may not be the Northern Lights, but at least you're a star. Smart guy.]

You might be surprised to hear that I did not have sex in high school. Instead, I had to make due with ogling the hottest girl at the party – or really, any girl at the party – and then going home and putting the moisturizer and beat sock to work. Perhaps this is why two of the more satisfying relationships I’ve had as an adult have been with girls who, in each case I learned through several sources, were the “northern lights” in their respective high schools. Of course, the story here is not that I went from super nerd virgin masturbator to dating high school hotties years later, but the series of damaging and damning decisions that these former high school hotties made to end up dating me all those years later. I’m sure, when they were 17 year-old northern lights and the desire of every guy at the high school party, they never thought to themselves, “You know, I’m thinking that 8-10 years from now I’d really like to find myself laying beneath a 230lb man/bear/thrusting machine who smells of marinara sauce and Jameson, just pumping away on me, while I wait for him to ejaculate or tire or for his heart to explode, whichever comes first. Yeah, that sounds like an awesome future for me.”

Oh, life and its cruel, cruel pathways and passages.

[Have a good weekend.]