Can I Be Frank & Crew?

For the last decade, a man has been coming to a golf course in Norway in the mornings, dropping trou and pooping in the cups.

That sentence should invite a lot of questions.

Stavanger Golf Club has been dealing with the mystery pooper since 2005, and the club’s staff is convinced a man is behind the fecal graffiti for a simple reason.

“We know it is a man because the poos are too massive to be from a woman,” said groundskeeper Kenneth Tennfjord, who added that the man in question often leaves toilet paper to go along with the turds, according to the Rogalands Avis paper.

The person in question only poops in the cups on weekdays, never showing up on weekends. Presumably, he has better things to do then. The guy apparently used to bike to the parts of the course where he would do his business, with grounds staff noticing wheels marks in the dew, followed by foot prints to the cup.

At one point, the club thought putting flood flights around the mystery pooper’s favorite target would stop him. Wrong. The guy just found a way to turn off the lights and poop in the dark.

I can’t speak to the customs and golfing traditions of the country of Norway as I’ve never been there nor have I shared a beer with any real life Norwegians, let alone Norwegian golfers (or Norwegian poopers for that matter). Yes, the idea of hovering in gimme range and dropping your cargo in the cup seems strange to me. But what kind of guy would I be to judge another man for being particular about his bowel rituals. Aren’t we all? Sure, not everyone would want to complicate the matter with pin placements and break, but to each his own. As I understand it, there are 3 internationally recognized tenets of being a successful man: make money, get laid, and last but most importantly, get regular. More power to you if you can take care of all three at the golf course.

Btw, honorable mention here goes to the Norwegian investigators and their decade long manhunt:

“Whelp, it’s a big dump so it can’t be a women.”

“It can’t be Tiger Woods as he wouldn’t go the bathroom on the green unless there was a whore lying there. Definitely didn’t see any whore footprints.”

“Doesn’t come around on weekends…must be a family man, trying to avoid 6 hour rounds on the weekends.”

“The presence of toilet paper rules out all Mt Pleasant members.”

Splendid effort, fellas.

Dan Tobin

The future of Bicycle Advocacy.

Don’t be confused by the language, as this isn’t actually in Lowell. The tell is the pristinely painted bicycle lane and the vehicle itself isn’t a massive Tahoe with a “Re-elect Mayor Elliott sticker” on it. But that’s neither here nor there, because what we’re watching here is the future of bicycle advocacy. Brute force. This gentleman will not only single handedly improve the cycling experience for his community, but no longer will the stereo type of cyclists be one of ill-fitting outfits, and a build that requires all altercations be settled through tersely worded, anonymous notes left on peoples cars. Wherever this guy is, we need to hunt him down and make him an offer he can’t refuse.

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe

Every 90s suburban white boys’ dream has arrived: Straight Outta Compton

Can I Be Frank?: Guilty Pleasures: Gangsta Rap

If you were a teenage boy in the late 80s and early 90s, you knew one thing better than your name; Gangsta rap!

While there were many ‘followers’ at the time, the true pioneers of this brand of angry hip hop was NWA; which of course stood for ‘N&$%^@ With Attitude’.

And in less than 3 weeks, the movie based on their story, Straight Outta Compton, comes out.

Anyway, a few years back I waxed poetic (not killing cops and raping women gangsta poetic but) about my affinity for this music. Timely repost.

I can’t wait. I only hope it lives up to the Chris Rock parody CB4 made 20 years ago…

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Can I Be Frank?: Guilty Pleasures: Gangsta Rap

(Originally Posted December 2012)

Allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends. Say hello to Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, MC Ren, Eazy E, Chuck D. Oh, and don’t let me forget all of the Ghetto Boys. OK, these guys are not my friends.

They represent some primary figures in the music genre known as ‘gangsta rap’. Most of these distinguished gentlemen made their way to fame in the late 80s and early 90s; the height of the gangsta rap craze. Those were some formative years for me as well; essentially my high school years. During this time these cursing crooners made a great impact on my life which resulted in a never ending affinity for their expletive-laced anti-love songs.

I would contend I am not alone.

I can at least speak for my circle of friends – which, by the way, primarily consists of chalky white men. We were all hooked on this violence-creating, women objecting, gun-promoting, drug-use-endorsing and downright filthy phenomenon. We bought the “records”. We watched the videos. And, worst of all, sang the songs. Start laughing ‘cause I am. There is nothing more pathetic or comical than a car full of pubescent, dorky, suburban white boys singing every word to ‘Straight Outta Compton’ (NOTE: F-Word used 21 times in this song alone!) as they cruise to the mall in their Mom’s Buick station wagon.

Oh we were just so dangerous.

If you have never had the listening pleasure of hearing some old school gangsta rap, let me give you a quick glimpse how it came to be. During that era, hip hop and standard rap music was just not good enough. In essence, a group of inner city California kids decided to take this music to a new level. The lyrics raved about the idea of killing police officers, defiling women, getting lost in drugs and basically unleashing total havoc on society. Frankly, they were geniuses for doing so. While the music was offensive to say the very least, they knew they had a market; 16 year old middle-class white boys who had never been near a gun, a drug, a jail cell, Compton, California or, in my case, a woman.

But this is not a lesson on the history of gangsta rap and its place in music history. As I combed through my You Tube playlist the other day I realized that many of these cult classics are occupying my ‘Favorites’ file (along with my Manilow, of course!). Apparently, these twisted tunes found their way deep into my subconscious because twenty years have passed and I can still bang out every single disgusting lyric to these mutha’ fuc….oops…sorry….lost in the moment.

Just a few of the classic cop-clubbing, pimp-slapping, arrest-warranting hits consuming my compilation…

Gangsta Gangsta

Boys in the Hood

Gangsta’s Paradise

Mind Playing Tricks on Me

Gangsta of Love (no, not the dorky Steve Miller version…but that would be more fitting)

F#&% tha Police

How I Could Just Kill a Man

Nuttin’ but a G Thang

So now for the quiz?

What is more pathetic and comical than a car full of pubescent, dorky, suburban white boys singing gangsta rap?

Yes, you in the back?

Um, Nothing?

Correct! Give our winner an autographed copy of MC Ren’s Kizz My Black Azz album (Yes, its a real record. That’s the actual title. And I owned a one).

The answer is a 38 year old white male, suburbanite, father of three belting out these bad boys while sitting at his desk in his V-neck Old Navy sweater and wrinkle-free Dockers. The truth is that the ONLY white men over the age of 35 that have ever looked cool rapping are The Beastie Boys (R.I.P. Adam “MCA” Yauch) and it should stay that way.

Funny as it may be, it remains a guilty pleasure and a fact. I have still never been near a gun, a jail cell, or a (serious ;)) drug. And the only woman around me now would justifiably punch me in the face if I ever even uttered any of this perverse pungent prose from my gangsta rap brothers.

I promise to continue to keep it real for my homies from hood….just in private from now on.

Dan Tobin

Because you asked, “When is being found naked in your neighbors pig pen frowned upon?”

(Source) MILLERSVILLE, Pa. — Police have charged a man with trespassing, public drunkenness and indecent exposure after he was caught on a neighbor’s Pennsylvania farm in the nude, drinking beer among pigs.

Police in Manor Township, Lancaster County, say 64-year-old Larry Henry told them, “I just like pigs,” when they found him in the hog barn June 26 about 10:15 p.m.

Henry faces a preliminary hearing Aug. 4. His defense attorney didn’t immediately return a call for comment Wednesday.

Arrest papers show Henry had been banned from the farm since he got caught trespassing four years ago.

Police say Henry smelled of alcohol and acknowledged drinking a six-pack of beer while hanging out with the hogs.

Police say the brand of beer was in keeping with the overall theme. Henry was drinking Hamm’s.

“I just love Pigs.”

While admittedly it’s been a while since I graduated finishing school, but I’m pretty sure the mid-Pennsylvanian social miscue here is that it’s perfectly acceptable to be found naked, pounding Hamms in the middle of a pig pen…provided it’s YOUR pig pen, and YOUR pigs. “Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s pigs”…or something like that. At the very least, you should ring the neighbor’s doorbell, introduce yourself, and let him know that you’re an honest, respectful person who will do right by his pigs. Just walking in with bargain beer and gearing down is not sending the right message.

PS…considered going with the “Who doesn’t have a buddy that loves taking home pigs” blog but the one buddy I had in mind is now happily married. Given how widely disseminated this publication is, I didn’t want his wife doing the “Dan’s buddy who likes pigs?” math. (his name may or may not rhyme with “Spruce.”)

Dan Tobin

Time to stop celebrating old folk when they do useless stuff…just because they’re old.

Source– A 101-year-old woman has proved that age is just a number after breaking her own world record as the oldest abseiler.

Doris Long once again conquered 560ft-high Spinnaker Tower in Portsmouth, Britain’s tallest building outside of London.

Wind and rain did not deter Ms Long, who has been honoured with an MBE for her charity fundraising for a local charity.

Ms Long decended 310ft down the popular tourist attraction. She last performed the feat on her 100th birthday in May 2014.

The pensioner, nicknamed Daring Doris, who has previously abseiled alongside new Top Gear host Chris Evans, took up the challenge to raise money for the Rowans Hospice in Waterlooville.

Ms Long, who first abseiled at the age of 85, said: ‘I don’t feel afraid and never have, I just have a placid nature.’

The centenarian, who is 5ft tall and weighs eight stone, added: ‘I have a look down at the crowd, I am normally looking to see how the other person is getting on.’

Ms Long, who has a daughter, three grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and two great great grandchildren, received cheers and applause from the crowds below as a band played The Proclaimers’ hit I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) as she reached the bottom of the tower.

So much for that greatest generation thing, eh? These are the people that clawed this country out of the Great Depression, and stormed enemy beaches. What these people don’t need is our accolades for doing extraordinary irrelevant things (that typically and almost exclusively involve gravity.) It’s like every year when we get to see George HW Bush hop out of a plane strapped to some Navy Seal’s belly button. I guess we’re all supposed to be impressed? Not this guy. If George HW wants me to celebrate his ageless vibrancy, I want to see him doing things that he was doing 40 years ago. Like sucker punching George Dubya’s tutors after getting his report card, or putting the wood to Barbs in an Oval Office desktop session. That would be impressive.

Like ole’ Doris here. She accomplished a feat that has only been equaled a thousand times over (just this week) by Mohican window washers. The star in this story is the maker of the harness and rope that maintained its integrity despite the strain of all 8 stones (Whatever that is?) of Doris’ person. What would be more impressive is if we learned that Doris’ drove herself to that tower while maintaining speeds at or near the posted limit, and parked her vehicle without it crashing through the front door of a Mobil Mart. Beyond that, there’s not much here worth mine or anyone else’s internet clicks.

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My friend Peter

We lost our friend Peter.

I never really knew Peter until about 10 years ago when he was hired at my company. I knew his family. I knew who he was. But I did not “know” him. At first I was a bit intimidated by Peter. He was a seasoned executive. Confident, calm and certain of himself, Peter was a serious businessman and I was not sure how we would mesh?

Very quickly I discovered this man would become much more than a co-worker, but one of the best men I have ever known.

During this period, my family was going through a very difficult time and I was distracted personally to say the least. As I attempted to separate work from home, Peter was the person I was spending most of my time with and, naturally, he learned all about my life. What Peter did not know was that he was quickly becoming my soundboard whether he liked it or not. What I did not know, but quickly learned, was the incredible character and compassion that this ‘stranger’ possessed and just how much he would help me during these tough times. I can only pray he knew that?

While too young to be my father and too old to be my brother, Peter and I shared a special bond. Our friendship was extremely unique. He could give me smart advice like my Dad, but also make an inappropriate joke like a best buddy. Our friendship was perfect.

Also, during these early days with Peter, I uncovered his incredible generosity. Peter’s generous and giving spirit was on display each day I was with him. Peter was generous in every sense of the word; generous with his kindness, generous with time, generous with his knowledge, and certainly generous with his wallet. As a very proud father of four himself, Peter knew I was being challenged at that time and needed a lot of help to get through it, and treated me like a son.

As we grew closer and spent many great times together, it was clear that Peter loved talking about one subject more than any other; his family. Not just his wife of more than 30 years and their incredible children, but his brothers, sisters, his Mom and Dad. I often would mock him when he would start to tell a story I had already heard by cutting him off and finishing it for him. He loved the ribbing.

Many may not realize but Peter was a sentimental and emotional guy too. Despite the macho, ‘team-Captain’ persona he gave off, he was a softy deep down. After a bad day or a difficult situation I would frequently receive an encouraging note or text always ending with…

“Luv ya, P.”

Those little reassurances let me know he was in my corner no matter what, and I will never forget that.

Over the coming days (weeks, months and years) I am confident you will hear similar stories and memories of Peter. I sincerely hope his legacy lives on with these stories because if Peter knew about anything in this world, it was how to be loyal. Loyal husband, dad, son, brother and friend.

I just hope he knew I was always in his corner too?

Thank you for everything, my friend.

Rest easy.

‘Luv ya’ too buddy