A new theory from Cunn...

Since the Dawn of Time, man has been searching for the answers to the great mysteries of the universe.

Countless philosophers, thinkers, sages and priests have pondered the answers to these pivotal questions regarding human existence: Why are we here? Is there a God? What lies beyond our earthly plane?

Well, today, one of those questions has finally been answered, by none other than the greatest thinker of our time – the man who fought back at establishment by stealing sandwiches from the cafeteria at a Massachusetts State University – my good friend Cunn.

The sheer genius of this humble modern philosopher has never shone as brightly as it does in the below paragraphs, which he emailed me just last night. In these lines Cunn concisely tackles one of these great questions that has plagued mankind for centuries: Why do hot chicks date complete asswipes?

So without further ado, I give you in all his unfiltered glory, guest contributor to The Boston Lager, The man, The myth, The legend… The Cunnisher.

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The D-Bag Dilemma
By Cunn

This may be the most important email I ever write to you.

I have a theory that challenges one of man's biggest mysteries....The girl dating the D-bag.

“…In humans, shyness (also called diffidence) is a social psychology term used to describe the feeling of apprehension, lack of confidence, or awkwardness experienced when a person is in proximity to, approaching, or being approached by other people, especially in new situations or with unfamiliar people…” (Wikipedia).

The phenomenon that is the D-bag that always gets the hot girl has long plagued and frustrated the regular "good" guy.

This mystery is typically expressed in the question "why do girls love to date assholes?"

We have all been there; you fall for that cute girl and you get friendly, but this asshole comes in effortlessly and gets her. While going out with her, he continuously treats her like shit, but she will not leave.

I believe I have figured out why this is so.

First, the Players:

John: The good guy, who does all the things a girl thinks are "sweet".

Giada: The girl of your dreams who you would do anything to be with; also a chef on the food network with an incredible rack....of ribs.

Roger: Simply described as the D-bag. The guy who breathes arrogance and shits ego. Public Enemy #1.

Now, lets breakdown each person a little more.

John of course is the shy one, who means nothing but good things for Giada. He does the little things that makes her say things like, "I don't know how you don't have a girlfriend," even though she is single (c*nt).

The small surprises, the occasional flowers, and the great relationship with her friends and possibly family – John is the guy that belongs with her, but he isn’t with her.

Giada is a little more complicated. To understand why, you have to look at her past.

A young teen Giada is where everything evolves from. Thanks to the sex driven society that the media has created, Giada feels the need to be, look, and feel sexy. Due to the immaturity of the teen years, Giada cannot feel like she is ever on the highest level of beauty. John thinks she is, but is so afraid to say the wrong thing and screw things up, so he never really tells her how attracted he is to her (flirting). Giada is so desperate to feel sexy that she cannot confide in John because he cannot tell her what she strives to hear.

Enter the D-bag.

Roger, being fearless due to his lack of respect for females in general, has no problem telling Giada she is hot and that he would definitely hook up with her. It now begins.

Giada, though not necessarily physically attracted to Roger, feels that she should be with him because he reinforces what she believes she should be. He reinforces those magazines that tell her what a guy is "really" thinking when he looks at a girl.

Meanwhile, John sits back wondering what he did wrong and what Roger did right to bring this situation about.

This is a happening that is nearly unstoppable; a force of nature, if you will. Giada is now suffering from Stage 5 Douchitis.* (see full definition below)

There are good things and bad things that come with Douchitis. Unfortunately there is no cure and no matter what D-bag Roger does, Giada will always forgive him.

Also, this common disease has 5 stages, which decline in severity from ages 17-21. The girl will seek Roger-like guys until about the age of 21, sometimes 22, because that’s all she has known.

By 21 or 22 the girl has matured and looked back on the guys she has dated and begun to wonder why she ever dated them. This is also an age where the female wants to have a serious relationship so she can get married in her mid 20's, which is the typical age for such a life event.

By this time, John has gained confidence because Giada-like girls have begun to like him. His shyness goes away and confidence comes to the surface.

This now leaves Roger banging a 200-pound white chick who thinks she's black in his pimped out 1990 Honda Accord at Hampton Beach.

So, nice guys finish last? I disagree.

They do for a period of time, but more times then not they at least have the opportunity to prevail in the end.

There may not have been a better theory on this subject that has come before this. I may have uncovered the answer to a mystery that has been mind-boggling to Johns for decades.

*Stage 5 Douchitis is a disease that effects the functioning of a female’s brain. She begins to find trashy, rude, egotistical guys attractive because they tell her she is hot and want to bang her.

Big Trouble for Big Ben

So, I've decided that the best possible thing that could happen to this impending Ben Rape-lisberger trial would be to have Al Michaels and John Madden do full color commentary for the duration of the proceedings, and to have it be broadcast live on CourtTV.

Can you imagine this exchange:

AL: Ooouch. I think that was a bad decision by the quarterback there John, would you agree?

JOHN: You know, he really forced it in there that time, and 99% of the time you try to force it in, it just doesn't work out for ya.

AL: Just a bad situation for everyone involved there.

JOHN: It's like, first she's coming up to his room to fix the TV, he see's her coming, and then ... BOOM, 15 to life.

Here’s an interesting tidbit…

If you were to take an inventory of NBA players who are still active from both the 2000 and 2002 All-Star Game rosters, you’d come up with a list that looked like this:

PGs: Jason Kidd, Steve Nash, Baron Davis
SGs: Ray Allen, Kobe Bryant
SFs: Peja Stojakovic, Tracy McGrady, Wally Szczerbiak, Paul Peirce, Vince Carter, Michael Finley, Jerry Stackhouse, Grant Hill
PFs: Rasheed Wallace, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki, Elton Brand, Jermaine O’Neal
Cs: Tim Duncan, Shaq

Now, if you take that list and whittle it down even further so it consists of only those players who started over 50 games last season, you get a list that looks like this:

PGs: Jason Kidd, Steve Nash, Baron Davis
SGs: Ray Allen, Kobe Bryant
SFs: Peja Stojakovic, Paul Peirce, Vince Carter, Michael Finley, Grant Hill
PFs: Rasheed Wallace, Kevin Garnett, Dirk Nowitzki
Cs: Tim Duncan, Shaq

Now, you might be asking yourself, “Why do I care?” (though more likely you’re still wondering how Wally Szczerbiak ever made an All-Star team).

Or maybe you’re waiting for me to get to some type of point in all this meaningless rambling. Well, here it is:

Of those 15 men on that second list, as many as five (that’s 33.3% of the 2000 and 2002 All-Stars still starting in the NBA) could be playing significant minutes for the Boston Celtics in the 2009-2010 NBA season.

I’ll repeat that to let it sink in.

Five of the 15 players still starting NBA games from the 2000 and 2002 All-Star Team rosters could be suiting up in Celtics Green in the 2009-2010 season. Garnett, Peirce, Allen, Wallace, and now potentially Grant Hill.

To put that into perspective, consider this:

Assuming the Celtics do sign Hill, let Big Baby go elsewhere and head into the season with a 12-man roster of the Big Three, Rondo, Perk, Sheed, Hill, Scal, Eddie House, Tony Allen, Bill Walker and J.R. Giddens, then that average age on their roster would be 29.5 years of age.

I’m gonna round that up to 30, and then remind you that the Celts will likely pursue a veteran PG to back up Rondo after signing Hill, which will drive that age up even further.

In fact, just for fun, let’s say the Celts sign free agent guard Andre Miller (33) to back up Rondo. That pushes Giddens (24) off the 12 man roster and pushes the average age up to 30.25 years of age.

For comparison, the average age of an NBA player at the start of the 2007-2008 season (which was the most recent data I could find), was 26.89 years old. Furthermore, at the start of the 2008-2009 season the oldest team in the league was the San Antonio Spurs, sporting an average age of 29.96 years old (according to RPIratings.com).

What am I building up to here, you ask? Well, it’s this: If you’re an NBA GM, is building the oldest team in the NBA something you really want to have listed on your resume?

I completely understand Danny wanting to win another championship within the “two-year window” we’ve all heard so much about lately, but is it worth potentially sacrificing the following 10-years for the next two?

Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t really have a problem with any of the moves Danny has made so far this offseason, nor do I have any issue with the Celts pursuing Hill. I just get nervous when I see a team stockpiling aging talent (like the Lakers did in ’03-’04), because what generally happens is all that talent leaves over the course of two seasons and leaves a team stuck in “Rebuilding Hell”.

The Lakers had the luxury of being able to rely on a still relatively young superstar (Kobe) after that ’03-’04 season to help speed the ascent out of “Rebuilding Hell”, but with no such player on the Celtics current roster, a similar exodus of aging stars could leave the team reeling for six, seven, maybe even eight seasons.

Look, I’m not suggesting that Danny should have done (or could be doing) anything differently, I think he’s been making the right moves given the circumstances.

I’m just concerned that once we watch the Big Three, Sheed, Eddie House and now potentially Grant Hill leave one by one over the course of the next three seasons, Celtics fans are going to be left staring at a core of Rondo, Perk, a half decent free agent pickup (say a Kevin Durant or Carmelo Anthony) and a still developing Bill Walker, asking ourselves what the hell happened.

Here’s to hoping I’m wrong.

Off to the races....

So I attended my first ever NASCAR race this weekend – an event which doubled as the first time I’ve ever watched more than one lap of any auto race… ever.

My buddy Murph, an in-the-flesh NASCAR fan, had four tickets to the Lenox Industrial Tools 301 at the New Hampshire Motor Speedway in Loudon, and he asked me and two other friends – Joe and Canavan – to go to the race with him.

I figured that I might as well see what this whole NASCAR thing was all about, so I happily accepted.

Not knowing exactly what to expect, but prepared for anything, I set out from my house at 7 a.m. Sunday morning wearing a tank-top and my Jim Beam Racing hat (a freebie with a bottle of Beam about a year ago that I was hoping would prevent me from standing out like a sore thumb as a non-racing fan who knows nothing about the sport). What follows is a running retro-diary of my day, the accuracy of which ranges from exact to very loose interpretation, with the variable being the number of beers consumed.

Due to the massive size of this diary, I'm going to post it in two parts over the next two days. So without further adu, here's Bill's NASCAR Diary, Part I:

7:20 AM:
The tank-top/Beam racing hat are already doing the trick. I just stopped to gas up and grab some ice for the coolers on the way to Murph’s house, and the woman behind the counter at Shell took one look at me and asked, “You headed up to the race today?”

Score 1 for Bill.

7:45 AM:
“They’re gonna love you!!”

That’s Murph’s reaction upon seeing my get-up as I arrive at his house.

Murph seems to be in good spirits and ready to roll; good sign for the start of the morning. Joe, on the other hand, looks like hell and just informed me that “(He) had a green butt purge,” this morning. Given that we have 90 beers in the trunk for just four people, I have a feeling that Joe’s green morning “butt purge” won’t be his last.

8:10 AM:
Canavan finally arrives at Murph’s house, bringing with him the “grill” that we’ll be using to tailgate all day. It’s not quite what was promised when he told us he had a grill – the “grill” part is there, but we weren’t expecting the added bonuses of rust and cobwebs on our burgers.

After some mild complaining about Canavan’s “grill”, we load up my ’98 Nissan Altima and head out – Loudon, here we come.

8:22 AM:
We spot our first fellow race fans of the day as we’re waiting to take a left in traffic. A huge pickup truck with a giant American flag hanging out the back window – viciously flapping over the truck bed – rolls by as Murph and Joe simultaneously say, “That guy’s definitely going to NASCAR.”

What have I gotten myself into?

9:07 AM:
We’re getting closer to Loudon, and the number of both teeth and minorities in the cars surrounding us is dwindling. Fast.

Murph announces that he’s getting “hot flashes” from the morning coffee, as Joe counters with, “Hot flashes, what about me, I had a green butt purge this morning.” I have a feeling we’ll be hearing about this non-stop throughout the day.

9:11 AM:
Canavan seriously contemplates getting out and walking next to the car (crawling along in race traffic at this point) to have a cigarette.

9:37 AM:
First beer of the morning is officially cracked.

After sitting in a little more race traffic, parking, and unloading the car, the boys are ready to rock. (I do feel it’s worth noting that the first person we see in the parking lot has cut-off sleeves and a two-foot long rat tail.)

Joe tunes in the local classic rock station on the radio and the first round of beers are down within five minutes.

Four down, 86 to go.

10:08 AM:
Joe announces that Murph is the “Pace Car” after Murph finishes beer number four while the rest of us are only about a quarter of the way through. When I finish mine and tell Joe to drink up and crack another, he cites the “green butt purge” for the 27th time this morning as the reason for his “slow” (3 and ½ beers in 31 minutes) start.

Murph tells Canavan to fire the up the “grill”. It’s time for some breakfast.

10:09 AM:
We realize we did not bring a spatula. Murph sends Joe on a mission to seek out good-hearted tailgaters who will let us borrow theirs. The mission is successful.

We’ve been talking to a few of the surrounding groups since getting here, and I have to admit that “the NASCAR lifestyle,” as Murph calls it, is pretty damn fun. Picture tailgating before a football game, except instead of being in a parking lot, you’re on grass. And there are way more people, and miraculously enough port-o-potties to accommodate the crowd. And there are fewer d-bags. The NASCAR fans might be a little (or a lot) rough around the edges, but you’d be hard pressed to find a friendlier bunch.

10:36 AM:
Breakfast is served!! Burgers and potato chips washed down with a healthy amount of Miller Lite.

The weather’s not bad and the rain seems to be holding off, we’re all having a good time and drinking at an incredible pace.

Canavan is talking sports with Brian, who is parked next to us with his dad. They drove up from Connecticut for the race; leaving their house at 5 AM. Brian explains that he didn’t get in from “partying bra” the night before “until like 3 AM”. Murph says he wishes Brian had stayed partying, though Brian grew on us later.

11:23 AM:
Since we got here this morning we’ve been having a running commentary on the type of female who attends NASCAR. Joe has an ingenious system for rating these women.

Instead of the traditional 1-10 rating system, Joe describes the quality of women at NASCAR by how many beers deep he would have to be before sleeping with them. In this system then, a 0 is the highest possible rating, while the ceiling for low ratings stretches to infinity.

Based on our observations, the average rating at this particular race is roughly 235, though that number is skewed by the several women who we rated as “infinities”.

I bring this up here because we have just handed out our second single-digit rating of the day. However, it has been called into question as we wonder whether rating someone an 8 while being nine beers deep actually means that person is a 17.

This is an important question, and it needs answering.

11:34 AM:
There is a large gap in the row of parked cars across from us because the friendly female parking attendant keeps waving cars past when they try to park there. Murph starts talking to her, and she explains that she’s waving these cars past because we’d have to get up and move for a second to allow them to back in, and she doesn’t want us to have to move.

This would not happen anywhere else on earth. And though we’re thankful for her thoughtfulness, we have a problem: we want people to drink with!

So, every time we see a car driving past full of passengers we deem to be “fun people”, we’re screaming at them to park there and trying to back them in without the parking attendant, who keeps coming up and waving them out, seeing.


12:00 PM:
Thirty-plus beers down and Murph announces that it’s time to make picks for the $20 pool. Each of us will pick three drivers, and whoever has the highest finisher will win. I can see right off that bat that this will be a problem for me.

Joe gets the first pick and takes Kyle Busch. I take Jimmie Johnson with pick #2, who I just found out was a NASCAR driver about an hour ago. After Canavan picks Tony Stewart I’m down to two more drivers that I know. Joe takes one of them (Jeff Gordon) and I take the remaining one (Dale Jr.) with my second pick and end up with some scrub for my final pick.

(More to come… check back for Part II of the diary, including the actual Race and “Joe’s big day out” tomorrow)