In the spirit of true journalism, I am scooping his father and announcing:

Elijah Kevin Bechdel was born on February 28, 2006 at 8:45pm at the Beaver Medical Center. He is 7 lbs. 4 oz. and 20 inches long.

After only an hour and forty-five minutes of labor, the lil’ guy entered the world with his parents, grandparents, aunts and uncle nearby, waiting for his arrival! Congratulations to Kevin and Jen on their firstborn!! Make sure he doesn’t go on any roadtrips before March 10th, because the CRAZY uncle is comin’ to town!! :)

Humor to follow.

Admittedly, I have an odd mind. I make weird connections to things in order to remember them more easily–connections which I imagine often seem completely unrelated, but hey… it works for me, so, ya know… back off. Anyways, I was watching TV the other day and one of those Philip Morris commercials came on. You know, the one about Quit Assist, their little program designed to help smokers quit. Is this not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard of? I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re required by law to do this (right? Someone let me know if that’s incorrect), but who’s going to go to Philip Morris to learn how to quit smoking? That’s like going to ford.com to learn how to ride a bike, and all the benefits that would follow. Or going to Courtney Love with help for your drug addiction. You’re just not going to do it. But, presumably people do. Here’s what they find.

Philip Morris, via their Quit Assist progam, give you 5 quick tips for quitting. And here they are, if you’re ready for them:

1. Get ready. No, that’s all. Just “get ready.” Okay, so right out of the gate, their not even trying. Get ready? They only give FIVE tips for qutting, and “get ready” is 20% of that plan? Wow. The best part is the paragraph that leads up to the five brilliant tips. It reads, “When you take on any challenge, a tried and tested plan can be your road map to success. What has helped other people stop smoking? According to the U.S. Public Health Service, studies show that the five steps listed below can help you quit, and stay smoke-free. For best results, use all five” Okay, so don’t skip “get ready”!! It is CRUCIAL. How do you get ready? I recommend setting up a folding chair in a small room with four white walls. Sit down, stare at the wall for at least a couple of hours, while consuming copious amounts of Red Bull. If you find yourself getting “on edge,” have a cigarette. That’s always taken the edge away before, hasn’t it? Okay, now you’re ready.

2. Get support and encouragement. Now we’re gettin’ somewhere! So let’s see… you’re a smoker, so generally speaking, non-smokers can’t stand you. You need to find support, so you turn to your friends, all of whom have been chain-smoking since the womb and have the yellow teeth and fingernails to prove it. When your one pal, Lars wears a bandana he looks unmistakably like a pirate. Anyways, you turn to Lars for support, encouragement, all that crap. What’s Lars going to do? I’ll tell you what. Philip Morris got to him first. He recommends picking up cigars! No inhaling there! A perfect solution.

3. Learn new skills and behavoirs. What, like juggling? What a great idea. Because let’s be honest, trying to quit smoking isn’t really a big enough challenge for you. What you need to do is diversify. Go completely nuts. If there’s ever been a time to multi-task, this is it. Some tips: try seeing how many grapes you can fit into your mouth at once. And remember, no crushing of the grapes. Start out with red, because believe me, you’re not ready for green yet. Now’s also a great time to write your will. You’re neurotic, under stress and potentially hallucinating… you’ve gotta be thinking the end is near, right? Besides that, learn new skills! We all have to learn how to do this at some point, why not now? Especially when you’re thinking so clearly.

4. Get medication and use it correctly. Umm… is anyone else reading number 4 as “party time,” or is it just me? Let me translate this for you. “It’s pill time!” That should be a little clearer. Also, notice how Philip Morris is very vague in their wording: “Get medication and use it correctly.” One could read this as “Get [by whatever means necessary, including militant force. Now is not the time to hold back. Those who stand in your way, including innocent bystanders, may become casualties, but no worry! That's their problem] medication [notice, we're not real clear what we mean here. "Medication" includes a wide array of substances, both legal and illegal, as determined by the United States government. All we're saying is find what makes you "feel good." I hear all members of Fleetwood Mac recommend cocaine, sleighride, the white lady, what have you.] and use it [or as Judas Priest would tell you subliminally, "do it, do it, do it"] correctly [is there a wrong way? The more the merrier, I've always been told.]. See what I’m sayin’? It can be taken a number of ways.

5. Be prepared for relapse and difficult situations. Ah yes! The kicker, as it’s known as in writing. Philip Morris, a tobacco company is telling you… “and oh yeah… you’ll probably come crawling back to us. So be sure to expect to do that at least a few times, so you’re not disappointed in yourself and come back to us permanently. No, what we’re looking for are a couple mind-blowing relapses that make Keith Richards look like a childish first-timer.” As for difficult situations… well there they’re just talking about Lars blowing smoke in your face every 5 seconds at your weekly poker game. Good luck with that.

Well for all of you smokers out there, I hope this exercise has helped you realize the error of your ways and see the light. Clearly Philip Morris is there for you. The least you could do is be there for them. Before quitting, splurge oh, I don’t know… $100 on say… 5 packs of cigarettes? Sounds about right. Because you know, if it weren’t for them in the first place, you wouldn’t have anything to do right now in your life. Phew! They’re a life saver.

Okay, so Santa Clause (Sinter Claus for our Dutch friends) is smoking. Remind me why we’re quitting again? Also, look at Mr. Bob Marley! He certainly seems to be enjoying his cigarette. What’s that? Oh that’s not a… that’s not a cigarette? It’s a… it’s what? Ohhh, I see. Well then uhh, nevermind.

I AM NOT DEAD. Just letting all of my loyal readers know. (Loyal listeners sounds a lot better. You know, alliteration and all. But it’s simply untrue.) As you might have heard on national news this weekend, there was a bit of a poison scare here at the University of Texas. A white powder was found in a roll of quarters that a female student was using for the washing machines in Moore-Hill dormatory. This all happened Thursday night–there were police cars, an ambulance and at least two fire trucks. This story came to my attention when Ben Rubino asked if I was dead, through his sister Cassie. Turns out they didn’t feel it important enough to tell the students who live here, but they can ship the story out to the national outlets. Great.

Anyways, Moore-Hill is right across the street, and down the block a little. Some great parts of this story include the following: The believed the substance to be a poison called ricin. At the Texas vs. Kansas basketball game held Saturday night, a young man was photographed with a sign that read: Texas is ricin to the top! Hardy har har. One of my favorites is that they tested the substance to see if it was ricin. When they found out it was not, they simply stopped tests. No one, apparently, was curious AT ALL to see WHAT exactly it was that was covering these quarters and consequently, some girls arm. Interesting. And finally, I’d like to leave you with this final thought, brought to you by our friend, Debbie Downer, “You know, they never did catch that anthrax guy.” God bless.

Alright, this one was too good to pass up. I stumbled across this list the other day and felt the need to share it with everyone. Apparently they conducted an online survery not too long ago about the nations craziest street names. People sent tons of nominations, which then had to be verfied and then cut down to ten, and ranked in order of “craziness,” apparently. Obviously this standard of crazy is an arbitrary one. I do not completely agree with their rankings, but the list itself is an impressive one. It is as follows:

10. Tater Peeler Road in Lebanon, Texas

9. The intersection of Count and Basie in Richmond, Va.

8. Shades of Death Road in Warren County, N.J.

7. Unexpected Road in Buena, N.J.

6. Bucket of Blood Street in Holbrook, Ariz.

5. The intersection of Clinton and Fidelity in Houston

4. The intersection of Lonesome and Hardup in Albany, Ga.

3. Farfrompoopen Road in Tennessee (the only road up to Constipation Ridge)

2. Divorce Court in Heather Highlands, Pa.

1. Psycho Path in Traverse City, Mich.

Granted, it took me a minute to get the double meaning in “Psycho Path” (sadly), but I still don’t think it should be #1. Divorce Court, same story. However, “FARFROMPOOPEN ROAD”??? Are you kidding me? That ALONE is enough for the top spot. And then when you realize that it’s the ONLY road that leads to “Constipation Ridge,” there is nothing stopping it! Here are a couple other gems I’ve found. We can only hope that the gentlemen on the left are working on the street on the right, as some sort of civic prank. Unfortunately, I believe that’s a long shot.

Alright, well… it seems that I’ve gotten into the habbit of doing these once a week, and on Monday night every time. Well… though this shows up as a Tuesday, it’s still Monday in Jeetland. BUT! Since it is Tuesday on the east coast, first things first: Happy Birthday Jackie!! Wooo!! For those of you who don’t know, if your name starts with “Jack-” whether it ends in -ie, -son or -o, and your last name is Bechdel, your birthday MUST be held in the last portion of February. The 21st is Jackie’s, also known as Qui to all of her friends and family (or just me). Another birthday is going to take place later this week, but I’ll leave that for then. I’m sure you’re all on pins and needles guessing whose it is. Anyways, upward and onward.

Alright, so is just me or does NBC seem to be really biased in their coverage of the Olympics? I mean it seems like every special interest story, athlete profile and commentary seems to be about athletes from the USA. Uh, I mean, it’s a good thing their slogan isn’t “Fair and Balanced” like Fox, because let’s be honest, they’re not. We want to hear as much about Yong-Jik Choi, the South Korean ski jumper (not that I needed to tell you, the informed audience, who he is) and Mirjam Ott (famed curler from Switzerland) as this apparent Greek god Apollo or the figure skater… Swan, is it?

Anyways, the point is that the human sweater that is Jimmy Roberts needs to stop going to these remote towns in either Colorado or Vermont and interviewing these American’s families, all the way down to the three-legged dog Rufus, who got a little too close to the ski lift one day. No one cares. And Bob Costas, the Jim Nantz of NBC and the Mark Hamill of broadcasting, doesn’t help matters either. Back to Jimmy Roberts for a minute though… Okay, so this guy is what—let’s say anywhere in his late 40s to early 50s? I don’t even know. The point is, this is a grown man, going by the professional name “Jimmy.” It would be one thing if he was cool… or respected. By anyone. I mean, sure, I think Jimmy Smits single-handedly managed to ruin two of my loves: Star Wars and The West Wing, but at least somebody out there likes him. Jimmy Kimmel? I may not watch his show, but I’ve heard that hilarity does ensue. Jimmy Roberts wears sweaters and sport jackets, every day of his life, all year long. Bad Jimmy.

I know this a tangent, but let’s follow this Jimmy thread and see where it goes. Alright, so we got your loser-jimmy, ruiner-jimmy, funny jimmy… Let’s not forget the general-jimmy. As I proceeded further in my academic career, it became clear that other groups of people were following up the latter of enlightenment. For those of you scratching your head, don’t worry. I know they’re idiots, but I’m pretty sure the school system has to graduate a certain percentage of people every year. Anyway, for better or worse, I found it completely unnecessary to learn these little children’s real names. Thus, one Sunday night at youth group, the jimmies were born.

[Okay, I just typed this big long explanation of the The Original Jimmy and the subsequent Jimmies which soon followed. Unfortunately, none of it was funny, except for in the “you had to be there” sense. If you care to hear the story, I have saved it, for posterity.]

Alright, so back to the Olympics. Apparently, the South, in order to empathize with the chilly climate in Italy, has decided to just turn off the sun. The past weekend and Monday have been terrible. No sun, cold weather. What is this? It was just EIGHTY-THREE degrees, Thursday! Ridiculous, considering Saturday did not manage to climb out of the 30s. Luckily, they planned the Austin Marathon for Sunday, where we barely cracked 40. Brrrr!

So let’s get real. How many of these Winter Olympic sports can we eliminate without anyone caring? Alright, let’s start with the obvious: Women’s hockey. No offense to anyone who might have played in the past, of course! But c’mon. They look like miniature figurines out there. I’m going to leave ice skating alone, because I realize large portions of people watch that. But ice dancing can go. The slalom bores me, terribly. And if you watch the bobsled after the luge or skeleton, it’s like watching paint dry. If we’re keeping it, it’s gotta go to the front, followed by luge and then skeleton—increasing order of complete ridiculousness. The snowboarding halfpipe is so dumb it makes me sad that Americans constantly dominate this. Alright, I think pretty much everything else can stay.

So primetime should consist of (in this order) ski jumping, curling, skeleton/luge/bobsled, and then pretty much the rest. Some speed skating is cool, cross country can get kind of intense and let’s be honest, the simple fact that they shoot stuff makes the biathlon all worthwhile.

Alright, it’s late, my mind is wondering and I have to find pictures. Until next time.

Some of the not-so-glorious Olympic moments. Either these lugers just won, or they are about to suffer a terribly untimely death. And that guy winning the race in the other picture is just rude. Although, the guy coming in second seems to be enjoying his fall, somewhat.

I was actually called to “cover this story” taking place last week. Indeed it is time again for the Winter Olympics– the 20th, in fact. Unfortunately I missed the first part of the opening ceremonies, Friday night. (I have to say this, in order to preserve any kind of dignity… however, it actually is true, and I was at the movies earlier in the evening. “Good Night, And Good Luck” Decent, but not great. Anyways…) As I turned on the TV, I immediately knew why I was receiving a phone call to watch this.

On the screen were about 20 or so people, all dressed in white, crawling on a vertical net like some sort of derranged, overgrown spider experiment. As they crawled around, sniffing one another’s behinds (did I imagine that?) they formed pretty shapes and motions, etc. Eventually they came together to form the image of a dove, the sign of peace. Cute. But uh… don’t tell me I was the only one asking, okay, cue the music…? Where was the da da da da da da of Stevie’s Weird Al Look-a-Like guitarist Waddy Wachtel? I mean… “Just like the white wing dove,” people!! It was clearly an ode to Ms. Nicks, but you know these Olympic types… they like to be all subtle.

So, following this, the oh-so-beloved Yoko Ono took the stage. So, let’s see here… We’re going to put on stage the woman who broke up the band that symbolizes a generation and is considered by many as the greatest ever, worldwide? Good call. Perhaps again I’m missing the subtlty of the Olympic Committee… contrasting the dove with the image of Yoko Ono? That must be it. Anyways, she kept blabbin’ on and on about “peace,” except it sounded more like “pee,” which was making me feel uncomfortable. She was dressed lovely in all pink, with a pink beret, to boot! I thought to myself, faux pas!

BUT NO!! Everyone was wearing them! Including Americans! It was insanity. We weren’t even in France! So I thought to myself… why? Why so many berets at the Olympics in Italy? Then I remembered: The Saddam Trial! I had to remember back to 1994 and the O.J. Simpson trial here in the United States. This must be what they’re going through in Europe now. The number one draft pick in the Ruthless Dictator League, USC graduate Saddam Hussein is on trial somewhere over there for killing his wife and her boyfriend…. er, or thousands of his own people. One of those. Anyways, I was glad to have finally gotten to the bottom of it… Europe is always about a decade behind us, anyway… How else can we explain the rabid, nonsensical love of Michael Jackson and David Hasselhoff? (Well… Hasselhoff is understood… I mean, he’s just so talented… at life.)

We move on in the show. Now taking the stage is Peter Gabriel, formerly of the ROCKIN’ band Genesis. Okay, stop right there. Genesis is the name of 1. A gaming system for kids, back in the day and 2. One of those Bible books. Let’s not name our band something stupid. The only name worse than that has to be “The Band.” Seriously? That’s all ya got? I mean, are you even trying? But I digress. He’s wearing a black skull cap, because apparently he saw a U2 show, and apparently thought that wearing one gives you talent. Wrong-o, Pete. And to boot, he’s singing a John Lennon song! What is this, The Dance on John Lennon’s Grave Day, sponsored by the Olympics? (Sidenote: I LOVE “Sledgehammer” and “Solsbury Hill” so… I’m just having fun with him.)

Finally, there was the torch lighting, which was copletely a non-event. It’s ridiculous, they gather everybody together in this stadium, for this very reason and they get some non-American to light the torch. What the flip? Last time I checked, all other countries revolved around us, along with the sun. Anyways, we were all in for a treat as Luciano Pavarotti closed down the ceremonies, opera-style. I was a little disappointed he chose not to wear his mask, as the Phantom, but he DID sport a rather awesome-looking cape and he abstained from the beret-love going on all around him, which also gives him bonus points. To boot he busted out a bow-tie, which really put him over the top. Well done, sir.

These games sure will be interesting. Why, I’m not sure… but they always seem to make a big deal about this, so… who knows. Anyways, I’ll have plenty more to comment on about Torino 2006, so stay tuned, loyal listeners!

This is Neve and Gliz. No, seriously, those are their names. They are the “mascots” of the 2006 Olympics in Torino. Or is it Turin? What’s going on with that? Anyways, how creepy are these things? And the names aren’t helping matters. Neve and Gliz? Those sound like the names of Dr. Kevorkian’s resident nurses. And here on the right, we have our Olympic hopeful for the Living Event. Little known fact, each country enters their oldest citizen in a contest, and whoever is still alive by the end of the 2 weeks gets a Rascal Scooter.

Okay, this isn’t so much a post in the traditional sense. It’s more of a statement. Umm… our Vice President is just shooting people. Openly. With a rifle. Of course, you know what this means? Dick Cheney joins the late great Aaron Burr as the second Vice President of the United States to shoot someone. Of course, Burr’s victim was our nation’s first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton.

Unfortunately Mr. Cheney loses on style points, big time. He was shooting quail. Last time I checked, quail were shot out of the sky. Cheney shot a man. Umm… so either this guy, an Austin native, was flying through the sky, or Cheney had other plans for this man’s life. I take this as a sign of the Secret Service just being too weak, these days. If the VP tells you to shoot a guy cause he looked at you funny, you just do it. It’s your job after all.

Anyways, back to the style points… See, Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton in a duel. And as we all know, deuls are far cooler than quail. Sorry Mr. Cheney, you’ll just need to try a little harder on the next victim. I mean, this is the 21st century… the people are looking for something flashy… you know, a spectacle.

Well, it only took 19 years, 265 days and approximately 10 hours, but I finally got to see my first Steeler Superbowl win! What a crazy ride it was. A great win for Cowher, “those damn” Rooney’s, Benny, Hines and all the boys. And of course, a storybook ending for the Bus! Let’s face it, the Steel City is the rockin’est joint in America right now. And yes, even more rockin’ than Jeety’s Joint.

Speaking of Jeety’s Joint, the staff here has been itching do do that Q&A session that I lied to you all about, around the first of the year. Well, as luck would have it, we were able to get a special guest to sit down with us for a few minutes and talk with us. With ABC covering the game, CBS shut down and has returned to its weekly schedule of geriatric 60 Minutes pieces, investigating the different names of nuts. (Andy Roonie: Well, there’s the… peanut, hazelnut, cashew nut, macadamia nut, pine nut, pistachio nut, red pistachio nut, all natural white pistachio nut. Then there’s your almond nut, brazil nut, pecan nut, filbert nut….) Luckily for us, NFL commentator Phil Simms was available for a few minutes to answer some of our questions. Here’s an excerpt from that interview:

Jeety’s Joint: Phil, thanks for joining us, you’re an idiot, can we get you anything?
Phil Simms: No, no… I’m fine. Thanks for having me.
[Immediately the distinct odor fills my nostrils. Apparently we had caught Phil at an awkward time: he had just finished bleaching his hair, and didn't quite have time to wash it before he came to meet with us. Shame...]
JJ: So Phil, how’s life now that you have nothing to do for another seven months?
PS: Well, you know, I do have a life. In fact, I’ve just started sewing a summer dress for my daughter. She’s five.
JJ: Aw, that’s sweet. Can we see it?
[After some coaxing, Phil decides to go get it. He returns with the beginnings of a dress that appears that it would fit a 6'4", 200lbs. former NFL-quarterback... Eyebrows were raised]
JJ: So. Ahem. Anyway… I think everyone owes you a huge debt of gratitude, seeing as how you’re the moron that came up with the awful phrase “gadget play” that is so freely used in the media now. I gotta hand it to ya, I didn’t think there would ever be a phrase I would hate more than, “Hillary Clinton, Presidential Candidate,” but you managed to pull it off. Tell us what was going through your mind the first time you said it.
PS: Thanks. I know. I’m pretty sweet, what can I say? See, the thing is I really wanted to leave my mark, as a broadcaster. So I watched some Steeler films and decided gadget was the perfect name. And as soon as I said it, I knew it was pure genius. Gold, if you will. I remember Jim Nantz sitting next to me, and as our eyes met, we knew we were sitting on a goldmine. Gagdet. No one had thought of it!! I remember him squealing something about what a great name that was, and then something about how he’s as American as apple pie. I don’t really know what that was about. But naturally we’ve begun marketing… shirts, hats, all of it.
JJ: Wow, I really hate you. That’s… a terrible name for anything, especially a football play. I hope CBS fires you. Thanks for stopping by.
PS: Sure thing, anytime. You’re the greatest.

For your benefit, we cut out the majority of the interview… More Jim Nantz quotes, some of which involved see-saws, Old Glory and a laundry list of derrogatory names for poor old men, Vern Lundquist and Dick Enberg. Anyways, Jeety’s Joint is proud to offer these exclusive interviews and will do our best to acquire the biggest names to mock in the future, for your enjoyment.

Eee gads! Easy on the bleach there, Phil-ster. You’re starting to look more and more like Cindy Brady everday. And we all know what happened to HER hair.