Homage To Oden

In 2007, Greg Oden was the number one overall NBA draft pick. As a freshman at Ohio State University (his only year in college), he was understandably the center of attention while OSU took runner-up in the NCAA Tourney. Immediately after securing his first-year $3.9 million contract with the Portland Trail Blazers, he busted his knee and languished on the sidelines until he was traded to the Heat just this year... where he continues to sit on the bench, watching LeBron dunk on ho’s.

But never mind college one-and-dones and the NBA...

Back in '07, a buddy of mine and I noticed how Greg—even as a healthy, 7-foot tall, 235-pound, 19 year-old—looked like he was 45.

We agreed that his timeless, ageless head could be superimposed on just about anything... and of course when you want to Photoshop a chap’s head onto other creatures, the animal kingdom presents a panoply of options. As does pop culture...

My buddy and I luxuriated in a continual tete-a-tete of swapped JPEG attachments throughout the slow day at work. (It was really one of the most enjoyable days at work ever.) I'm pretty sure the gallery below sequentially chronicles the evolution of our creations.

I should add that I have the utmost respect for Mr. Oden, both as a player and as a human being, and even as The Hamboden.

Ostroden

 Giroden

 Octopoden

 Odion

 Alligoden

 Snoden

 Odark

 Pelicoden

 Praying Mantoden

 C3P-Oden

 Gumboden

 Batoden

 Diarrhoden

 G.O.

Greg Yoden

The Hamboden

I always thought my friend's son resembles Link. A tiny Dragoden makes a cameo...

Meat Is Oden

Obot

 Modissey

 Osama Bin Loden

 Ozilla

 Papa Smoden

 Popoden

Proud Dad

 Q-Toden

  Another friend's daughter (Cleo) with... Greg Oden.

Cleoden

 Rolling Oden

The Power of Bo...

Apropos of nothing, I glimpsed a special on Bo Jackson on ESPN yesterday. They didn't show this part—or at least I didn't see it—but it dredged up the vestige of a memory from the early 1990s which I was pleased to find on YouTube.

Now let's think about how GOTdamn powerful that is. I mean, it took every ounce of strength in my body to break a remote control in half one night with my bare hands because its unresponsive buttons pissed me off for the last time. I'm sending this photo to its family as a warning.

But Bo snapped a standard MLB-approved Louisville Slugger over his leg like a pretzel rod, without breaking his own femur. And this was before steroids hit the league.

I have to applaud this display of pure, unfettered disgust. Every time I get pissed off about trivial and inconsequential things—which is all the time—I will endeavor to channel all of my chi into the Power of Bo.

P.S. Bo also broke a bat over his head, but that’s not as fantastic because he was wearing a helmet.

P.P.S. Phone books are easy compared to remote controls. And this one pissed me off because it appeared on my doorstep unrequested. Does anyone use phone books anymore? No, Yellow Pages, they do not. Senseless tree-killing, landfill-filling motherfuckers...

Any Particular Pu$$y In Mind?

This is very hard to explain...

Truck Nutz: A Part of Your Nutritionally Balanced Breakfast (if you're eating a breakfast bar whilst driving to work).

Nothing makes for a jolly commute like a hefty pair of balls flopping around merrily below a breast cancer awareness license plate on a 2012 Cadillac Escalade. I didn't keep the camera on, but of course I had to cruise up beside the truck to see who was driving. 'Twas a well-dressed black lady in her mid-fifties with an oblivious, Zen-like smirk on her face. Like a high school administrator taking the day off and listening to a meditation CD.

Did a disgruntled student exact revenge under the cover of night? I hope so.

To further garnish my exceptional ride in this morning, I found this backdoor beauty turning right in front of my office building.

069 ANL would have been just slightly better.