Guest Blogger Joe Daly (aka Westy)

This is a picture of Joe Daly who is the guest blogger for today. Every once in awhile I plan on opening up this space for people to write their own column. I've known Joe for years and met him when he was living in Chicago and he would let my band mates and me crash at his apartment when we had Rugburns gigs in the windy city. The opinions expressed in this article are those solely of the author and not of Steve Poltz, or 98 Pounder Records------------------ Here's Joe---------------------!

"Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through.  Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it.  This is a kind of death."  -Manny Ramirez
 
OK, Manny never said that.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that Manny doesn't even know most of those words, let alone have the capacity to arrange them in the above order.  That quote came from Anais Nin, and it's safe to say that Manny's likely never heard of her either, nor read any of her works.  But I really want to believe that when Manny started beating AARP members and claiming phantom knee ailments, that it was not a pattern of thoughtless petulance, but a brilliant campaign to summon forth his highest nature and in doing so, propel all of humanity to a greater state of unification and brotherhood.
Yeah, no, that wasn't it at all. 
As a longtime (read emotionally-stilted)Red Sox fan, everyone's asking me what I think about Manny Ramirez being traded to the Los Angeles Dodgers.  As far as I'm concerned, that story is about as newsworthy as hearing that Joe Morgan has an enlarged prostate.  Manny's unceremonious trade to Los Angeles is not news- it is simply the inevitable consequence of a jerk with a lot of money, acting like a jerk with a lot of money.  That's what rich jerks do, and with a legion of preceding examples, from Howard Hughes to Paris Hilton, we should not be surprised when someone with a large fortune acts like a self-seeking boob. 
What IS newsworthy, and what has been largely ignored by the "popular media" (which for all you latin fans, literally means "middle of the people" [and when you read that, hold up your first two fingers of each hand and bend them in unison, once for each word, for pretense and effect]),  wait- where was I? 
Oh yeah, the real news is a story recently broke by our friends at Conde Nast:  Manny poops in towels. 
I kid you not: Manny-Ramirez-and-Red-Sox .  For those too weary to read this, when Manny Ramirez shows up at the clubhouse and poops, he insists on wiping himself off with fresh towels, rather than using toilet paper.  In doing so, he has occasionally clogged the plumbing system with these befouled linens.  And it is this story that I am shocked to see lingering in relative obscurity.
Now technically, Manny uses towels to polish his sepia-toned fanny, but I think you'll all agree that the effect is essentially the same.  This, my friends, is the height of caprice.  To demand the soothing brush of terry cloth for that particular aspect of bum maintenance, when by all accounts his colleagues were more than satisfied with two-ply alternatives, simply underscores how far reaching his jerkiness had expanded.  You can't have a toilet clogger in the clubhouse.  Philandering, tattooed, steroid-shooting, drunk driving, seal clubbing reprobates from all walks of life are routinely welcomed into baseball clubhouses the world over without judgment or scorn.  But no one likes a toilet clogger.  No one.  Adios, Manny.  I'd say we hardly knew ye, but I think we probably got to know ye a little too well. 
All that being said, thanks for the two World Series.  You jerk.
Brah- can I use this space for a couple other quick hits?  Thanks.  Yeah, I know this is long.  Your bad for offering me this space without a word limit.  Idiot.  SPIN magazine gives me 300 words, max.  When you mentioned this on the phone and then hung up without so much as a "keep it brief," it was all I could do to not lean out the window  with my nightcap on, like Ebeneezer Scrooge on Christmas Day, hailing young passersby to go fetch me a gigantic Christmas goose.   Thanks.
I saw "Chariots of Fire" again yesterday.  When the movie began, I was pretty stoked.  It had been some time since I'd seen it, and I was pretty sure that I had once liked it.  Two hours later, I felt like the world's biggest chump, having wasted ANOTHER two hours watching old timey English sissies parade about in knickers.  For a minute there I thought I was watching the weekly Parliament session on CSPAN.
Finally, I'd just like to say that the Olympics are just a few days away and amidst all of the stories about journalistic repression, toxic air, Tibet, and doping, why in the world isn't anyone talking about the driving situation there?  I mean, at the risk of being politically incorrect, I live in an area largely populated by Far Eastern students, many of whom attempt driving on a regular and harrowing basis.  Are we supposed to just assume that all of a sudden everyone in Beijing is going to become a careful and attentive driver?  Were I an Olympic athlete, I'd walk to my damn event.   OK, let's say it all together- "the opinions expressed in this article are those solely of the author and not of Steve Poltz, 98 Pounder Records, or any of Steve's several offshore gambling operations that he uses for money laundering and tax sheltering purposes."  Is that the disclaimer you were looking for, "Mr. Litigation Pants??  I'm going to bed.