Sunday, February 28, 2010

Al Gore in '00!

The truth is, we'll never really know how things might have played out, and I don't think there's much merit in regret.  Still, I can't help thinking that we'll all (meaning everyone) look back one day and admit what a critical mistake was made in 2000, and that, if Al Gore had been president 1) the world would not have been subjected to an unprecedented 8-year dose of American belligerence, arrogance and utter incompetence, that 2) the situations in Afghanistan and Iraq would be vastly different today, and 3) that we would instead be mobilizing, at least more than we are now, in a campaign against climate change.

Gore's op-ed piece in the New York Times will no doubt get the mouths of the deniers foaming and frothing, but their loudness will not make the problem go away.  


Saturday, February 27, 2010

Transformers vs Rosy Rhee

Sometimes I thank goodness for my precious snobbery, which tonight allowed me to stand up and walk away from the abhorrent, vomitous mess that is the Transformers movie.  Actually, check that.  Maybe it wasn't snobbery, but the value I place on the precious minutes of my life.  About 30 of them was all I could stand to lose on a film that was so unforgivably dull.  Dull, though it could not afford more than 2 seconds to any single cut.  Dull, though 5 minutes could not pass without a massive explosion, shootout, high speed chase or some combination of the three.

I'm not going to bother reviewing this movie with its offensive portrayal of minorities, infantile humor, Burger King product placements and glorification of large-chested women with orange skin.  No, I'd like instead to make an unlikely comparison.

A few months ago Alex and I watched Same Same, but Different, a documentary by our friend, Rosylyn Rhee, about her relationship with her father, a man so hellbent on his daughter going to Harvard and studying law that he essentially disowned her for two years when she refused to step in line by becoming an artist instead. 

Operating on a budget that may have covered two tickets to a Transformers matinee (throw in popcorn and a box of Jujubes), Rosy created something intimate, touching, heartbreaking and humorous.  Adjectives don't do her film justice, but, again, I'm not here to review.  These are precious qualities, and a film so rich in them deserves our attention.  Transformers, which gets all the attenion, possesses none of them in any noticeable quantity.

Granted Rosy wasn't trying to make a popcorn blockbuster out of her story, and Transformers director Michael Bay wasn't trying to make a penetrating documentary out of a line of Hasbro toys. I just find it a shame that legitimate artists struggle to gain a toehold in an industry so out of touch with itself that it believes only teenage boys enjoy going to the movies, and that no teenager could ever care about the artistry behind good acting, a good script and good direction.  Meanwhile, a hack like Bay has been given a blank check.  I'm not saying that he doesn't put a lot of effort and energy into his films, or that he doesn't surround himself with talented people; I'm just saying he sucks, and royally so.

Look, I appreciate the creativity behind visual effects.  I do.  I like a great action film, too.  When I go to a movie, more than anything I want to be entertained.  Transformers is not entertainment, just like a Burger King hamburger isn't really food; it may look good, the people on TV are telling us it's good, it seems like it should be good, but it's really just a big unhealthy piece of shit.

Here's to the $150 million it took to finance Transformers going instead to dozens of Same Same, but Differents.

Official McBone Rating, Transformers: 0.0 McBones

Official McBone Rating, Same Same, but Different: 5.0 McBones 


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Thaw out with McBone; The 2010 Swimsuit Edition Featuring Angie Everhart

While the season inflicts its wintry worst upon us all, McBone is here to provide a little ray of warmth.  When last year's inaugural swimsuit edition was received with wholehearted enthusiasm, we knew we were on to something big.  This year we had but one goal in mind: to blow the lid off this motherfucker.

I whipped out my little black book and flipped through the pages...Alt, Banks, Benitez, Brinkley, Campbell, Casta, Crawford, Diaz...all satisfactory candidates, but "E" was where I stopped.  E as in Everhart, Angie.

We chose Angie Everhart (the official supermodel of McBone), over other swimsuit models knowing no Akron native, no Firestone High School graduate, no classmate of my sister (not to mention a bonafide ginger!) would ever, could ever, disappoint McBone. 

Only problem was, her digits had somehow come up missing.  Black book, Rolodex, cell phone, ipad...I searched high and low, to no avail.  Man, if I had a dime for every time I've lost a supermodel's phone number.

Anyhow, try as I might, I just couldn't conjure that number, so I googled "Angie Everhart supermodel phone number" and wasn't that surprised to come up empty.  Hell, a top-shelf talent like Angie doesn't want every Tom, Dick and Harry calling her up all the time.

A little networking was in order.  What I did was, I called up another top model of Akron pedigree.  The conversation went a little something like this:

HK: Hello?

Me: Heather, baby, what's shaking?

HK: Who is this?

Me: Long time no talk.

HK: Who is this, please?

Me: You're hilarious.  Seriously, I'm in a real fix here, babe.  I need AE's number stat.  How 'bout it?

HK: Listen, dickhead, if you call this number one more time my husband's gonna come kick your ass!

Well, that got me nowhere fast.  Fortunately my Webelos training had me prepared with a backup plan.  I rummaged through the closet and dug out the old bathing trunks and a tube of SPF 30.  Feast your eyes, McBoners.  Look, but don't touch!

Nothing like a fluffy beach read to while away the hours in paradise.

 That kooky kat really kracks me up!

 Damn, those compact flourescent bulbs are hot, hot, hott
Ooh, I wanna take you down to Kokomo...

Photographs by
Swimsuit by
Old Navy

Spencer Tunick's former sunglasses by Oaklee 
Hair by
Janeane at Great Clips
Makeup by
Dr. Fabulous


Sunday, February 21, 2010

Ditto That Sentiment

Though the output of our kitchen may not match my brother's in terms of sheer quantity, we like to think that we hold our own when it comes to quality.

Behold!  In its glory sits cooling a genuine McBone style lasagna.  Layers of cheese, sauce and pasta bubble in my late grandmother's heavy duty, lime green, fifties-era casserole.  Flavors of nutmeg, fennel, basil and oregano meld in symphonic harmony.

Not pictured: my wife slobbering like the lasagna fiend that she is. 

Paired with a tossed salad and a bottle of 2007 Cavalchina Bardolino, and I'd have to concur that life is, indeed, good.

Please note that nowhere in these two food-related posts does mayonnaise come into play.


LIfe Is Good

Man.  Sometimes you just sit back and think about how lucky you are.  Many things make me happy in life and thankful, but there are very few that come ahead of great food. And here at McBone's secondary headquarters we love to cook. All the frustration and anxiety that come with a career, relationships and the world around us seem not quite as terrible when you sit back and see how good you really have it. Here is everything that has been cooked, baked or prepared today:

-Homemade pancakes with maple syrup and powdered sugar
-Fresh pepper-bacon from West Side Market
-Fresh saugage patties
-Scrambled eggs with swiss cheese, tabasco, c-salt, pepper
-Fried-egg breakfast sandwich with swiss, tabasco, sausage and fresh italian bread from West Side Market

-North Carolina slow-cooked pulled pork sandwiches - Fresh Pork Butt from West Side market marinated and slow cooked in crock pot for 6 hours
-Fresh mozzarela, tomato and cucumber salad w/ olive oil and balsamic vinegar

-Two oreo cheesecakes currently baking in the oven!

Mandarin orange oriental salad (To be consumed tomorrow)

If by some miracle McBone Inc. does not become the empire that we expect, I certainly could make a career as a food taste tester and be more than content.

Can anyone out there in McBone land match this?


Friday, February 19, 2010


Some of you may have read the article.  One of McBone's followers actually posted the link in a comment for the last post on the Antawn Jamison trade.  The piece was some type of idiotic study on the so called most miserable cities in America to reside. Forbes is the latest culprit but there are many other so called "Pro America" publications that publish this trash every year.

Well Forbes, let me start by just saying this.  You can take that study and shove it up your ass.  Go to hell, and FUCK OFF!

I've had enough.  Why do we feel the necessity to do a study and publish something about the worst places to live?  Forbes, can I ask you this...Did the person that published that piece ever live in Cleveland?  I would be willing to bet one million McBoners (The official currency of McBone) that they've never spent more than one week in this city.  Regardless, it is beyond my intelligence why it would ever be necessary to publish such negative garbage.  What good does it do anyone?  Tell me how you think it makes the people feel that were born in those cities?  That work 12 hours a day to raise their families in those cities and pay for their mortgages?  Give me 10 minutes in a room with no windows or cameras with the person that endorses these publications.  Do we not have enough negativity?  Do the people in these cities not already know what the problems of their hometowns are?  Hey Clevelanders!  Did you guys know that we get a lot of snow in the winter?  Did you know that our sports teams haven't won a title in six decades?  Hmmmmmm.....BREAKING NEWS FORBES YOU ASSHOLES!

I've just had enough of the Cleveland bashing.  I really have.  The #4 most miserable city to live in?  Come here for one week and I'll show you how miserable it is.  Nothing good happening in Cleveland?  Ok you know what's coming now:

1) Cleveland Cavaliers - Best basketball team on the planet.  Best ownership in sports.  Best player in the world.  I know it is painful for all you Cleveland haters out there, BUT LEBRON IS GOING FUCKING NOWHERE. 
2)  World Class Restaurants - Lola, Lolita, Osteria, Slyman's Deli, Farenheit, Lago, Sokolowski's, Johnny's Downtown, and many many more.  Cleveland's cuisine is second to maybe only New York and Chicago.  MAYBE.  Any meal, type of food or atmosphere you desire and I'll find you a restaurant in that genre that will blow your mind.
3) Is Cleveland Growing?  Is there anything exciting happening?
-Billion dollar casino will be up and running by 2013.
-Flats East Bank project breaks ground this spring.  New 18-story office building (Ernst & Young), River front park/boardwalk, beach, restaurants, hotel and more.
-400 jobs coming to National City Building this spring.  Rosetta Inc. moving offices there.
-$400 million high speed passenger rail coming to Cleveland to connect the four major cities in Ohio.
-Cleveland State University is up 18% in enrollment and at an alltime high for total enrollment.  40% of the incoming freshman class will be living on campus downtown Cleveland.  Also and alltime high. Three new buildings under construction including educational and dormitory buildings.  Cleveland State is a huge part of the revitalization of downtown Cleveland.
-Lake Erie Monsters -  New professional hockey league team owned and operated by Dan Gilbert.  Drew 18,626 fans on January 22nd.  5th highest attended game in American Hockey League history (74 years).  7th in the league in total attendance. 
-Tremont and Ohio City - Young professionals flock to these areas.  Eclectic and fresh. Great looking women, great food, great atmosphere, unique places to live, small boutiques and art galleries.  Just awesome.
-Affordable.  For someone 21-40 years old.  No city has more to offer with a lower cost of living.  Beautiful new condo's, townhomes and apartments opening every year.  Want proof - I live in a 3,000 sq ft. home.  I pay $1,000 a month.  I live two minutes from Quicken Loans Arena.   My kitchen is bigger than most apartments in New York, Chicago, San Francisco, etc.  I have a yard, I cook-out, I even had a fox in my yard this fall.  Again I live 1 minute from downtown!
4) WEST SIDE MARKET - Celebrating a 100 years of publicly owned excellence.  One of the largest outdoor markets in the world.  Have you seen all the latest studies on the destruction of processed and super market foods?  Well live in Cleveland and you don't have to worry.  You have a fresh supply of locally and organic grown foods that are less expensive, more nutritional and unbelievably more flavorful than your regular old grocery store slop. This place is amazing. 
5) Bored?
-How about a world-class art museum that was already one of the best in the world and now has almost completed a billion dollar restoration. 
-Rock N Roll Hall of Fame
-Five professional sports teams (Cavaliers, Monsters, Browns, Indians, Gladiators)
-Like water?  Lake Erie might be close by.
6) The people.  People of Cleveland work hard, they are passionate and they are genuine.  Come here and you'll see.  Go to a Browns game.   You'll see.  I guess the people of a city don't contribute to it's "ranking" among best cities to live.

I don't need to go on, but I could.  For days and days. Did the article piss me off, yes.  Did I react emotionally, yes, but not without reason.  Most of the time I don't give a damn about what people say.  I've heard criticism of Cleveland as long as I can remember.  But sometimes you just can't hold the emotions in any longer.  This city has so much to offer now and what is even more exciting is the untapped potential that is just beginning to be developed.  Great things are happening but even greater are coming.  Congrats to those who will be along for the ride. Maybe we can make Forbes top ten list for best cities to live in 2015.  But then again, who the fuck cares.  Cleveland Rocks!


More Mayonnaise Propaganda

A fifteen second glimpse of maniacs indulging in their satanic orgy:

Did you see how much they put on that burger?  These propagandists...they don't bother with a knife and thin coatings, which are bad enough.  Nope, nine times out of ten they're going to the well with wooden spoon.  They don't spread, they plop.  This is the stuff you see on television.

And don't get me started on that poor child, forced to smear his face with a contaminated hot dog.

I swear, these people are worse than Scientologists.


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Cavs Acquire Antawn Jamison!

With a 43-11 record and riding a 13-game winning streak, there is very little about the Cavaliers to criticize this season.  A humdrum 3-3 start had people forecasting certain doom to LeBron's chances of re-signing in the offseason, which would, naturally, doom the franchise, and most of northeast Ohio.

Well, then they figured out how to play with Shaquille O'Neal.  Since then?  Try 40-8.

Apparently not satisfied with the NBA's best record, nor with their production at the 4, where J.J. Hickson was feasting off the attention paid to LeBron and Shaq, the Cavs acquired all-star power forward Antawn Jamison for Zydrunas Ilguaskas and a draft pick.  Considering that Big Z is highly likely to return to the team in 30 days, it's hard to imagine how Danny Ferry pulled this one off.  Credit him for involving the Clippers, who sent Al Thornton to Washington, keeping LeBron's protege safely in wine and gold.

The Cavs have coveted Jamison and his 20-point, 9-rebound stat line for a while, but the rumors had been swirling around Phoenix and Amare Stoudemire.  Stoudemire is a fine player.  Here's why Jamison is a better fit:

Jamison puts up numbers nearly identical to Stoudemire's, but will presumably be happy to sacrifice some minutes, points and rebounds to win a title.  Amare comes out of Pheonix, where talented athletes gleefully forget how to play basketball in the name of jacking up loads of shots.  Anyone who thinks he'd be cool with giving up touches in a year he's in line for a max contract is crazy.

In three consecutive seasons losing to the Cavs in the playoffs as a Wizard, Jamison was a competetive beast.  He was also the only guy on a team full of knuckleheads who didn't buy into the 'punch-a-Bron' strategy, including the coach.  What I saw was a guy who wanted to win, played like he wanted to win, but refused to play dirty.  I'm not saying that Stoudemire is a dirty player, and I'm not saying he's not driven.  I'm just not sure he's entirely title driven, and Cleveland has seen quite enough of talented guys who are motivated by other things, like cocaine, or Big Macs or fathering illegitimate children.

I'm a better defender than Stoudemire, and so is Jamison with gout, rickets and seven hernias.  Amare, who barely pretends to protect the paint, has never been asked to do so.  Mike Brown demands defense, first and foremost.  It is a delusion to think that Stoudemire would have been able to erase eight seasons of zero effort on the defensive end and pick up Brown's complicated schemes in time for a title run.

This is not to say Jamison is a great defender.  Far from it.  What he is, is a much better defender than Hickson, who at this point in his young career resembles Stoudemire.  Jamison also has a high b-ball IQ, and should be able to hold his own.  Let's face it: both of these guys are gifted athletes.  Both should be able to defend in the NBA.  It boils down to who is more likely to embrace the role.

And speaking of embracing roles, it's much easier to imagine Jamison sacrificing minutes to Anderson Varejao than Stoudemire, and he will have to.  When the game is on the line, Anderson Varejao plays the 4.

Jamison is a better shooter than Stoudemire, at least in terms of long distance (gotta give the nod to Amare on the mid-range jumper).  His presence gives the Cavs four starters who can shoot the three competently.  The importance of three point shooting really emerges in the playoffs (especially in the Eastern Conference), when the lane is all but shut down and the drive and kick is a critical offensive play.

Also critical is the pick and roll.  Amare, coupled with Nash, is a great pick and roll player.  Jamison, working off of LeBron, Mo Williams and Delonte West, should thrive there too.

Amare is great finishing around the hoop.  So is Jamison, who has a wealth of tricky, unguardable moves in the post and cutting to the hoop.

Jamison is a chemistry guy, a great locker room presence with a small ego.  Stoudemire?  No.

Steve Nash has made a lot of players appear better than they are.  See Shawn Marion, Boris Diaw, Quentin Richardson, Raja Bell, etc.  Playing in that ludicrous system, who can tell how good Stoudemire really is?

Say the Cavs acquire Stoudemire, sign him to a long-term deal, only to see his once micro-fractured knee implode.  In the last three seasons, he's had two major surgeries.  He is 27 years old.  Do you offer a guy like that 15+ million per for five or six years?  Jamison, who is 33 and has a reputation for durability, is expensive, too.  However, he continues to earn the big paycheck, and, assuming he plays well next season, should remain an asset.  The year after, if his game begins to slip, his expiring contract has big value.  If all goes according to plan, a 23-year-old Hickson will then be ready to step in.  Contractually, Jamison is the lower risk. With Amare, the Hickson point is moot.  A deal with Phoenix would have required giving up J.J.

The more I think about this trade, the more I love it.  I guess what it boils down to it that, with Amare, there were serious reservations, at least from this blogger.  With Jamison, none.  If you can find a negative, please tell me, because I don't see it.  Jamison is a fabulous player who should blend in as well as a midseason change to the starting lineup can blend in.  The Cavs will enter the playoffs bigger and more talented than they were last season, when lack of size in the paint and on the perimeter vanquished them against Orlando in the Eastern Conference Finals.   Now they are deeper than any team in the East, and for once they have a full complement of talent around their superstar.  This deal also exonerates owner Dan Gilbert and Ferry from any blame should LeBron leave in the offseason.  Add it all up and how could I not stamp this trade with the McBone Seal of Approval: McB

My buddy Than, who knows more about that Cavs than just about anybody, had this to add in an email:

I just read online that Jamison could play both the 3 or the 4.  I mean, I knew that already, but for some reason the light bulb didn't come on for me.  Basically, he could be the first to sit down and come in for LeBron and play the 3.  There is a decent log jam of bigs on this team even with no Z with Leon Powe coming back, but there aren't a lot of 3s after LeBron.  I guess Jamario Moon plays the 3 and so does Hot Wad Williams, but not to the level Jamison would.  This should be very very interesting to see how Mike Brown handles the rotation.  He really has an embarrassment of riches at his disposal with this roster. Man, I hope we get Z back soon.


Monday, February 15, 2010

The Catcher in the Rye...Still Awesome

I just finished reading The Catcher in the Rye for about the millionth time, but probably the first time since I was about 18.  I was sort of afraid it wouldn't hold up, and I would be shaking my head nostalgically at the outmoded tastes of my younger years, but Catcher isn't like some things I grew up with, and about two pages in I was pleased that the opposite was the case.  Oh, I felt some nostalgia in reading it, all right.  Catcher was the book that made me realize that I didn't have to feel bad about hating high school.  Maybe high school doesn't suck for everyone, but it sure did for me.  And if old Holden Caulfield was disaffected, well then I could be too.  And you know something?  I still hate high school, goddam it.

All right, the book.  First let's get something out of the way, because it's been bothering me forever. Among the criticisms you hear from the smart people who read books is that Catcher is dated, chock full of dialogue and narrative that is expressed in an outmoded vernacular.  That's true, I guess.  Then again, it was written, oh, SIXTY YEARS AGO.  I mean, is the book supposed to magically update itself and adopt the lexicon of today's youth?  People don't criticize Macbeth for having outmoded dialogue, for crying out loud, and when was the last time you heard someone say something like, Thy crown doth sear my eyeballs?  Never, that's when.

So, granted that people no longer talk like they did in 1951, or in 1600, we move along.

Catcher as it relates to J.D. Salinger's life in exile has been analyzed to a bloody pulp.  You can read all about it in any number of obituaries that have been printed in the last couple of weeks.  What I want to talk about is how every other line of this book cracks me up, because there is no greater master of hyperbole and dry wit than Salinger's Caulfield.  With Catcher, there is hardly a moment that I'm not laughing out loud.  That's some trick, considering how sad and lonely and devastated this kid is.  Critics who call him whiny forget how isolating adolescence can be.  They don't remember the ridiculous classmates, the pointless ceremony of our schooling, the way our hormones amplify everything, or the fact that, at age 16, sex is everywhere.  Mostly they forget that Holden is trying, without much success, to navigate all this while dealing with a briefly mentioned detail that I believe is the real crux of the novel--his kid brother, Allie, is dead.  Holden was terribly fond of Allie, and that void has him pining constantly for the one other person he holds in the same regard--his little sister, Phoebe.  By the time his wanderings and encounters bring him to her side, he can scarcely process his emotions.  He gets sick and lands in a sanitarium.  No wonder.  He's been through the wringer, and in the midst of all the getting kicked out of school, getting beat up by a pimp, getting loaded and drunk dialing an ex-flame and getting hit on by a former teacher, Holden keeps cracking us up.  None of this is very funny, but it's all part of the comedy.

I'm not going to say I ever went through anything near to what Holden went through, but I could always understand him.  Thankfully, I still can.

Official McBone Rating: 5.0 McBones


War is Stupid

We have been at war in Aghanistan since October, 2001.

The Iraq War started in March, 2003.

A little perspective:  World War II lasted six years.

People are still talking about military 'solutions' in Iran.


Sunday, February 14, 2010

We Had a Really Good Day Today

Today I woke up at 10, made some coffee and read the sports page.  Then Alex and I had breakfast.  After that we went for a walk in the park and checked out the birds--woodpeckers, robins and nuthatches abounded.  We got back and popped open a half bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Hey, why not? It's Valentine's Day, after all, and with that in mind, we decided to put the work down for a couple hours and enjoy each other's company.  I made dinner--a souffle and a nice bottle of red wine.  Now I'm going to build a fire in the fireplace and together we'll bask the warmth and comfort of our home on a cold winter night.

And ten Afghani civilians got blown up.


My Wife's Secret Identity Revealed!

A couple of years ago I shocked the world by revealing my identity as a blogging tennis champion.  However, I'm not the only world-class athlete who has taken up residence at McBone outpost #1211.  Since the Winter Olympics are in full swing, now would seem an appropriate time to reveal something about my wife as well.

Born in 1977, my wife, representing the former East Germany, won her first gold medal in figure skating at the Olympics in Sarajevo in 1984 at the age of eight.  Her early development into womanhood (attributed by some to Soviet bioengineering technology) did not go unnoticed by the international ice skating community, particularly among enthusiasts who fell under the demographic of 'straight male,' of which there was a sudden and exponential increase.

She would repeat her gold medal achievement in 1988 in Calgary, cementing her place among the immortals.

Known for her beauty as well as her athleticism, Time Magazine labeled her 'the most beautiful face of socialism.'  Yet, my wife, lured by the promise of western freedom, emigrated to Venezuela, where, she was dismayed to discover, there is no ice.  Ultimately satisfied with her Olympian feats, she retired from skating and turned to intellectual pursuits, finally landing in Indiana and Purdue University, where she has been hailed as 'the most beautiful face of rhetoric and composition.'

Here Katarina (known today as 'Alex') and I enjoy a quiet cocktail before hordes of fans sent us running for our limousine.


Anita Carter

For those of you who, like me, favor prominent zygomatic bones, I present to you, in all her radiant glory, the incomparable Anita Carter.

Sorry, Zooey Deschanel, you've just been blown out of the water on all fronts.

Also gotta love how Johnny Cash thanks the 'girls' after their performance.


Saturday, February 13, 2010

Who Was Ho Ho Moe?

Contrary to popular belief, Ho Ho Moe was not the brainchild of the preeminent poet/recluse, MPF, but a very real psychopath who, in the mid 19th century, perpetrated the once notorious, now forgotten Copse County Killings.  From 1847 to 1860, no fewer than 31 children were found brutally slain by a mysterious, unseen killer, whose only calling card was a dirty bit of fabric, upon which were scrawled the words: Ho Ho Moe is back.

Today marks the 150th anniversary of Ho Ho Moe's final, blood chilling murder. Though the fate of the villain remains unknown, his grim legacy lives on in verse:

Ho Ho Moe

Ho Ho Moe is back
He gets you.  Ho Ho in
and you Moe Ho Ho
an Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho

Ho Ho Moe first appeared in the 'Diz-aster Book of Poems' in 1985.  MPF would not publish again, but his obsession with the killer is said to remain a fount of creativity.  Recently, the following sketch surfaced, along with the author's prose imaginings of the events surrounding the murder of young Thomas Grimes:

Sundered from the lower half of his body, the boy, in his final minute of life, watched as his innards slid out onto the bloodstained ground.  The fatal wound, a clean slice directly below the diaphragm, was the sinister work of Ho Ho Moe, who claimed his first victim in nearly three years.  By the time the corpse was discovered on the back acres of Farmer Gleeson's property, the skin and flesh had been devoured, and the lower skeleton dragged many yards from the crime scene and partially buried, presumably by Gleeson's free-roaming bull terrier, Roxie.  Postmortem investigations revealed the boy to be Preacher Grimes' youngest son, Thomas, last seen in Mary Inman's Bake Shoppe, from which he stole a hot cross bun.  Only two weeks past his twelfth birthday, young Thomas had recently been awarded a new bicycle (Copse County's first) for high marks in reading and ciphering.

The preceding work has been reproduced here against the wishes of the artist, who remains secluded in his compound in Ohio.


Tuesday, February 9, 2010

For the Discriminating McBoner, Welcome to Falling Rock National Park

Friends, a few years back in a dimly lit alley, my buddy Josh and I swore a Blogger's Oath, an unbreakable vow to blog in partnership until, as the parchment reads, the dead rise up to feast on the living, and the bloggers of darkness triumph.

We'll deal with that day when it comes.  In the meantime, we blog united.  As such, I'd like to take a moment to tell you about an incredible offer we heard about just moments ago.  As you are already aware, we endorse awesomeness in all its forms. That's why Welcome to Falling Rock National Park is the official comic strip of McBone.  Many of you already read Josh's daily strip at his website, but did you know that you can now subscribe to Falling Rock absolutely free of charge?  Sound too good to be true?  Well then there's no way you'll believe this: starting today, Josh is offering a FREE FALLING ROCK BOOK COLLECTION to the first 25 subscribers!  Now that's what I'd call a pretty decent offer.  How decent?  Almost Rita Hayworth decent.  How decent is that?  Pretty goddam decent:

So act now, McBoners.  About 37 seconds is all it takes to get Falling Rock delivered FREE, every single day, to the feed reader of your choice.


Monday, February 8, 2010

America, We Can Do Better

It will be a wonderful day when the first woman is sworn in as president.

Provided it's not her:

Because Sarah Palin is not really a woman, at least not in the modern sense of the word.  She is certainly female; examine her anatomy and you will likely find all the parts prerequisite for the designation.  But a modern woman?  Sorry.  McBone is officially revoking that title.

Why? A truly modern woman, one we'd like to see leading a political party in 2010, transcends the strictures of the white, phallocentric society that we've been trying to slough off for 100 years. Yesterday Palin was the keynote speaker for the Tea Party convention in Nashville. The first thing she did was wish happy birthday to Ronald Reagan.  Reagan! The same Reagan who laid waste to Central America, who narrowed the gap between church and state, who is the most mythically conservative president of all time, who removed the Equal Rights Amendment for women from his party's platform when he ran for president in 1980, who made so many lousy movies it makes my head spin.

If Sarah Palin and her T-bags are seeking to start a revolution in the 21st century by channeling the rock bottom leadership of the 1980s, and if Sarah Palin becomes a legitimate presidential candidate in 2012, and if we somehow nominate and, mother of mercy, elect her, then we will deserve everything we get.

I want to know exactly how many black, Hispanic, Native American, GLBT or poor people were in attendance.  I want to know how many of the marginalized people of this country (aside from women, of which there were many) count themselves among their ranks.

Sarah Palin is not irrelevant, but she should be.  In the hope that we tune her out and make her disappear, McBone will do its small part.  This is the last time I will blog about her.  Ever.





Saturday, February 6, 2010

Brassieres Positively Scare Me to Death

While most of my school chums became familiar with the basic principles and mechanics of the brassiere in high school, I confess my first encounter with the mysterious undergarment was in my dorm room during my sophomore year in college.  There I was, having just singled my way to first base with a cute co-ed when, with no warning at all, her shirt was on the floor.  You can imagine the mix of terror and curiosity I was feeling in the presence of this baffling amalgam of straps, cups and bosoms.

Well, she sort of turned around and pointed with her thumb and, possibly sensing my reticence, said in the sweetest possible voice, c'mon, help me out of this thing. I didn't really know what to do, and I was pretty scared of what I might find underneath, but it didn't matter anyway because the darn thing may as well have been padlocked on.  After wrestling with it for about 45 minutes she asked me how much longer I thought it was going to take, because she had to get to class in a few hours.  I stammered a bit and told her that it would probably help if she had some WD-40 or something, because this little plastic doodad wasn't budging.  I was about to run and get some help, but she just sighed and unhooked the danged thing herself in about two seconds flat.  I thought I had ruined the mood, but she smiled and playfully threw the bra at me.  Well, you would have thought she had tossed a bowl of scorpions or something, the way I panicked and batted the thing away.  She wasn't real pleased when it landed in the pizza we had ordered, and even less so when my slob of a next-door neighbor barged in hollering I smell pepperoni!

I suppose there must have been a brief moment there when a pair of naked breasts were free of their harness, but for whatever reason, all I can remember was that Matlock was on the TV at the time, and I couldn't help wondering what old Andy Griffith would have thought of this business.

Before I knew it, her shirt was back on and she was out the door.  My slob of a next-door neighbor helped himself to a breadstick and waddled back to his room.  And there the brassiere remained, cheese and lace fusing together for eternity, cotton fibers drinking from little greasy rivers.  I had a mess on my hands, but it seemed the easier thing would be to drop out of school, and so that's what I did.

And that's the story of how I became a minimum wage earner.


Friday, February 5, 2010

McBone Nation is Crumbling

We regret to announce that the McBoniverse has, at least for now, stopped expanding.  We don't know what we did to offend the two McBoners who have officially jumped ship, but since the Superhuman Crew has shrunk to 14, we vow to do better in the future.  We don't know how we could possibly do any better than Zooey Deschanel, but we'll try. When does the future begin?  At McBone, the future always begins after 500 pushups, a protein shake and few hours of limbering up with my personal masseur, Anatole.  Spoiler alert!  Anyone even remotely interested in bosoms will want to stay tuned.


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

McBone Babe of the Month

Sorry, Zooey Deschanel.  Even though you, with all your adorable gamine charm, may be the clear choice for the McBone Babe of the Month Award, we find ourselves leaning in a less, shall we say, obvious direction.  Yes, the mere presence of your photo made our previous post go viral and boosted our hit count to double digits for the first time ever (thanks Mom for #4, 9 and 10!), I'm afraid we are compelled to choose another.  OK, sure, maybe your eyes are like two crystalline pools, the depths of which no mere mortal could possibly fathom in one thousand lifetimes.  Whatever.  Our minds are made up.  So grovel all you want, Zooey.  Throw yourself at us if you're that desperate--it will do you no good, because we're going to have to go ahead and give the McBone Babe of the Month Award to the long retired and recently newsworthy creator of Calvin and Hobbes, Bill Watterson.

Furthermore, Watterson's moustache (combined with his northern Ohio pedigree) earns him an unprecedented second honor, this one compliments of the Northern Ohio Moustache League: the NOML Moustache of the Month Award.  While the good people at the NOML are well aware that the last Moustache of the Month was awarded almost a year and a half ago, we would like to point out that the lunar cycle on certain planets in our solar system is the equivalent of 18 months on Earth, which keeps us pretty much right on schedule.

And to those who would protest the objectification of a cartoonist, we invite you to kindly shut your pie holes.  Allow Mr. Watterson to bask in his dual award in peace.  Comic strip artists are, if anything, sex icons, and should be treated as such.


Monday, February 1, 2010

Sick Day

Not feeling real well the last couple of days, so here's a picture of Zooey Deschanel, which is probably better than anything I could write, anyways.