Friday, December 04, 2015

Rutgers Names Rich Kotite as New Head Coach

AD Pat Hobbs calls the hire the best we could do with the budget we have.

NEW BRUNSWICK -- With little fanfare, Rutgers University announced via a press release at 7:00 p,m. on Friday evening the hiring of former Philadelphia Eagles and New York Jets Head Coach Richie Kotite to serve as leader of the struggling Scarlet Knights football team.  While official terms were not disclosed, an anonymous source close to the negotiations said it is in the ballpark of eight-years and $30 million.

"For all my life, people always called me Richie, but now with this contract they can just call me rich," said Kotite in a prepared statement. Kotite has a career record of 40-56 as a head coach and hasn't coached since Bill Clinton's first term.

It is likely that current football staff, all hired by former coach Kyle Flood, will be released on Monday. Kotite did announce that former Lions Head Coach Marty Mornhinweg will serve as offensive coordinator. Kotite mentioned Mornhinweg's propensity to not take the ball first in overtime as well suited to the college game.

"We plan on winning through innovation.  We'll be installing this newfangled wildcat offense and have no idea what to do on defense."

In other news, Five star recruit Rashan Gary, the most coveted player in all of football, college and professional, has given a verbal commitment to Wagner College which recently hired Flood to lead the Seahawks.

Said Gary at the announcement which was covered live by ESPN, ESPN 2, ESPN News, ESPN U, Fox Sports, all major broadcast networks and Al Jazeera, "F.A.M.I.L.Y!"

Monday, December 13, 2010

Top 10 thoughts in Artie's mind right now

10. Douche ads and spas use the same design elements.  Be careful you don't get them mixed up.

9.  My kids are absolutely loco.  Christmas has them so jacked-up, so out of control.  As I see it, I have lost the ability to parent them from Thanksgiving to Christmas. 

8.  People who say put the Christ back in Christmas don't know what they are talking about.  Sure we get an occasional Xmas out of someone, but do we really think there is some type of conspiracy against the 224,457,000 Christians in America?  Given they make up more than 3/4 of the population, do they really feel that oppressed?

7.  Tea is for pussies and people with a cold (like Artie).

6.  I am stressed about finances and job security, but other people are stressed because they are hungry and don't know where their, or their child's, next meal will come from.  Think about supporting your local food bank. Even $10 a month for a year will go a long way. Remember, folks are hungry all year round.

5.  Is registering popular CB handles.  When the Internet dies and CB's make a comeback, I will be all set to make a killing. 

4.  Will reduce my carbon footprint by wearing smaller charcoal-based shoes.

3.  Babe Ruth was #3.  He was fat, liked booze, and chased women.  Maybe there is hope for me after all. 

2.  Had seven channels growing up; 13 if the rotor to our rooftop antenna was in order. I always found something to watch.

1.  Vacuum is the only word I know with a double "U".  I know a lot of words with double other vowels:  Hawaiian aardvarks oogle beer; skiing baboons seek bazaars.

Thursday, December 02, 2010

It happened like this...

"I am not sure if you understand what I am talking about," the older guy lectured with impatience and despair.

He and his 20-something crony were camped out at a coffee shop interviewing fellow losers who answered their advertisement on Craigslist.  Chance of a Lifetime, the ad read.  It told of a 30-year old company looking for self-motivated men and women who are interested in earning a lot of money distributing the world's next great energy drink, an organically made, low carbonated beverage.  Its name escapes me.

In front of him was a socially maladroit, slightly balding, certainly under dressed 30-something who told farcical stories of his over-importance and wonderful life.

Yeah right, buddy.  Things are so good, that's why you are in a coffee place meeting with two DeVry Institute drop outs who claim to run an established and thriving business but need to meet in a coffee house instead of an office and are willing to spend 45 minutes interviewing you when, as soon as you said that you didn't want to risk losing your disability and would work for NO MORE than $28,000 a year, they should have gotten up and left."  Your denial of reality is almost as as pronounced as that last sentence was long.

I am a table or two away.  I should be writing for work.  I have tight deadlines ahead but little motivation.  The conversation between the three is mesmerizing.  I hear the older dude referencing Robert Kiyosaki (Rich Dad/Poor Dad) and Donald Trump (Rich Dad/Bad Hair).  It seems they are pitching a multi-marketing corporation, a pyramid scheme if you will.

The two douche bags have no product to show, no website, no anything.  They do, however have an opportunity that few will be offered:  Give them a thousand dollars or so and they will set you up with a franchise.  Get soda machines set up at places of business and sit back and let the passive income flow your way.

So that's it.  Make money on the front end with some idiot who will actually pay you the cash and, if you are lucky, find a sap a month who actually places a machine or two and make money on the back end, too.  If they don't work out, no worries. You got paid.  If they succeed, less worries, you get paid more.

I am stuck here wondering what would happen if they truly acknowledged what they were doing and candidly explained their business plan.

"Look, we don't have much going for us, but we rightfully contend that you have even less going for you.  We will sell you a dream.  You will likely fail,except if you can do one thing:  find someone dumber than you and offer them the same deal. 

Admittedly, you won't earn the whole $1,000.  We are your bosses, after all.  Thus, we will take $700 and leave you $400.  Find 70 people to take the deal and you have your $28,000! If they actually sell the product, you might only need half as many stooges!

It is a big world out there, fella.  There are more than enough prospects to succeed.  You want to move up the corporate ladder?  Then you better be willing to move down the social/intellectual ladder."

Of course none of this is said.  The interviewee is rambling on about his real estate investments that didn't quite pan out but made him millions on paper before they made him move back in with his diabetic mother.  He then changes topics and talks about going to Europe each year and would need an assurance that this would be no problem.  Seems he has a friend in Amsterdam and travels all over Europe--Amstrerdam, Rotterdam, The Hague, and Utrecht.  Fuck, man, all of those places are in Holland!

It is comical how long this goes on, but it must.  Instead of being the worst job candidate in the world, this guy is the best.  He is the  Jamie Dimon of delusional, the Steve Jobs of senseless, and the Warren Buffet of wacky.  In the Pyramid scheme world this guy is Wharton material. Another 20 minutes or so and they all get up and punch contact  information into their phones. 

Was a deal made?  I can't say.  But I do feel a bit envious.  For all the reasons this scheme sucks, I also know it can work.  I want in.  Perhaps I'll look for that ad online, set up a meeting, and maybe even get a vanilla latte out of the deal.  I realize pyramids are set up to prey on the misguided, but how would it work out for someone who is totally tuned-in but doesn't care?

I'll let you know how it turns out.  But until then, can I interest you in purchasing some Herbalife products?

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

A nude Angelina Jolie?

Okay, so Rob Pattison didn't draw the traffic I assumed.  Maybe that is because I was appealing to a group, women, who don't puriently surf the web as much as I guys do.  So this time I will try a woman of appeal. 

For my newer minions an explanation, I was curious if putting the name of a famous person here would increase traffic.  My hypothesis was built on the premise that no one I personally know is aware I am writing, and thus, strangers are coming to this page--purposefully or not. If that is the case, then the likelihood of someone purposefully visiting this page would increase with certain keywords (famous people).

Stay tuned.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Rob Pattison Drives Traffic Here

It is 5:35 am and I have been up for four hours writing a speech I am not particularly proud of.  Oh, I know what you are thinking. "Hey Writer-Boy, you just ended that sentence with a preposition.  Gotcha!"

Yeah...umm...whatever.  Everyone knows that is pedantic nonsense up with which I shall not put. (Thanks, Churchill).

I really have nothing to say or write, but just wanted to check in.  It is kind of fun to do this with nary a friend knowing I am blogging again.  I assume I will eventually be found out, but until then, let's make fun of my douchebag friends.  Okay, you go first.

Lastly, what's up with the title?  I just want to see if putting a celebrity's name increases web traffic.  Given I have NO followers, anyone who comes here does so by random chance or is looking for someone else.  Results to follow.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Whatcha looking for?

So I like these new blogger stats (okay, so they may not be new, but like I said in earlier posts, I haven't been here for a while). In case you were wondering, here are the top search terms used that drove folks to this site.  I wonder if that kid looking for a degree in Zeus fround this site helpful.  I sure hope so.

Thurman munson
thurman munson autopsy photo
thurman munson's brother
"ba in Greek mythology"
"Do you like beer and nachos?"
"guys who have never had girlfrineds"
Artie Lange Munson
artie lange republican

Fellow bloggers, what are your top search terms?

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Shut up and read

I just stopped by to marvel at my own blog. I guess it is sort of like taping myself masturbating. It seemed like a good idea, it felt good when I did it, but now, in retrospect, I am both ashamed and disgusted in myself. What kind of freak am I?

If you are reading this it means you are either a Yankee fan or Howard Stern devotee who has no idea how to use Google. Your stupidity is my gain I suppose. But really, who, if anyone, benefits from this blog? Pen pal-less prisoners?

Most of the folks who blogged with me back in the day have disappeared (or at least won't return my calls). I miss this format. It allows me to write more, be honest more, and take risks. I am on Facebook, for sure, but I am beginning to really sour on the need to edit myself, deal with argumentative people, and read your post about missing Grampy who died 11-years ago and had such a profound impact on your pitiful life. That said, I love an audience and I am too lazy and inconsistent to build one here. I love to write for writings sake, but when it comes right down to it, I am an extrovert and need those personal relationships. Love me, please.

We moved recently and one of our new neighbors, who I have yet to formally meet, told my seven year old son who came to her house trick-or-treating that he and my other kids need to learn to be quiet. I found this out a few days afterwards when my son matter-of-factly shared with me the story.

What the fuck, old lady? You have a problem with my kids, come to me or the Mrs. I suppose if we were established neighbors/friends and you wished to correct my child's behavior, I would be okay. I mean, I am not one of those parents who thinks my kids can do no wrong. That said, I am not sure what they have done wrong. Do they play out front and play chase and laugh and even scream (during daytime hours)? Likely. Do I think they are exceeding 100 decibels, shitting on her lawn, or swearing or dry humping a girl/boyfriend in their view. Not likely.

What should I do about this old crank? I feel like I should approach her and introduce myself. Tell her that I understand she has a problem with my kids and that if she feels she is being inconvenienced, she should come to me or Mrs. Lange. This way, I put her on the spot and secondly, I can then judge if she has a case or not. Who knows, maybe my kids really are true sumbitches. But instead of getting totally defensive, I feel like I should be the judge before I should be the enforcer. We love the neighborhood, but if I have to explain to my kids the idea that there are old kooks in the world and they should be laughed at and ignored, I will. It is not generally my way, (nor is filming myself whacking it, BTW), but sometimes you have to adapt to the circumstances. I would like my kids to always be respectful, but I also want them to learn how to exercise good judgement. Some folks may not deserve our respect.

Thanks for stopping by.


Wednesday, July 21, 2010

No (Ex)cuse

I don't spend much time on this blog because I am always on Facebook stalking ex-girlfriends in the hopes that we can get back together. Hey, ex-girlfriends, what is it that you didn't like about me, was it my semi-common references to other ex-girlfriends that I wish to get back together with? Just call me a pack-rat of pootang. I won't let you go.

I am really glad that Old Spice is making a comeback thanks to that really creepy guy. It means my loveletters make more sense (sents). To those who are not ex-girlfriends but still get stalked, don't let my love for ex-girlfriends get in the way of our love for each other.

Artie loves you.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Start with nothing, see where it ends

Even the poor coed chained to a radiator in my basement needs to be fed once in a while, right?

Greeting to my minions. I am Artie Lange and this is my blog. For certain I have neglected this site, starving it of the intellectual nourishment and comic quenching that only I can provide, but who can blame me? On Facebook my following is deep and dependable, on Twitter I have twenty-thousand fans, and on Blogger what do I have? Hope that Pistols at Dawn will remember me and give me access to his glorious bog (if it is even there).

So what has been keeping Artie busy over the last few years? I don't really know. I continue to age, widen, and shift hair from my head to my back. I have eroded my brand to the point that BP takes pity on me (that's actor Bill Paxton, who is a real dick and may have even raped me on the set of Spy Kids 3. I say "may" because I can't remember if he or I was the aggressor).

So what should we talk about? I don't know. Does it even really matter? My investments in the pay phone industry have not succeeded as I would have hoped, but I think I will rebound thanks to my purchase of a truckload of Kodak 35mm film, which I will sell at the Englishtown Auction this weekend.

Alas, all my other blogging buddies are gone. Dead (to me), but I persevere. I am a survivor. I thank you for visiting, for your comments, for your offer of oral sex.

Artie has to go now. I have things to do (really).

Monday, November 05, 2007

Writers Unite!

In solidarity with my brothers and sisters of the Writers Guild of America, I will cease posting to my blog until a fair contract is negotiated.

To my faithful readers, I apologize. I know it will be strange not having Artie Lange's musings to read everyday, but I must take a stand.

I'm sure that scab, Pistols at Dawn, will cross the line and continue his low-brow hackery. Go there if you must.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007


I told Max the cat that he needs to wait a few minutes before eating because his daddy has to post something to his blog. Poor little guy. He doesn't know how to tell time. The way he now lies on the kitchen floor, lethargic and despondent, I think he thinks I told him he'd never eat again.

Cats can't tell time and that sucks, but they can put their head on a pretty girl's lap and she won't call the cops or her big brother who is headlining an Ulitimate Fighting Championship card at Caesars this weekend.

I'd give up time telling skills for the feline superpower of unquestioned cuddling, but I don't always get my way.

And neither will Max. I'm going to bed now; he can eat tomorrow--maybe.

Note: No animals were hurt during the writing of this post. Though there are unconfirmed reports that Steakbellie chokes his chicken while reading Thurman Munson's bother. PETA is investigating.

A case for polygamy

I'd like to have several wives. Not for the sex, mind you. I can barely handle Mrs. Lange. I just want a set of spouses so they can talk with each other.

Artie isn't very good at the active listening thing, and I really don't like Grey's Anatomy, but feel I must watch it so me and da' missus have something to talk about Friday morning.

Give me a gaggle of girlies and they can meet each other's emotional needs.

Artie Lange just wants to be left alone. I want to watch TV, sleep on the couch, eat two pounds of pasta and finish my meal off with a pint of Vermonty Python ice cream. I'd like to stop bathing, stop shaving, and stop-up my neighbor's toilet.

Can't a guy soil himself without being judged?

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Even blogs go into repeats: In response to Bert Banana's great post

To properly celebrate Woman's History Month, I will write about ex-girlfriends and other women I have encountered. All names have been changed to protect the subjects. I write these not from a misogynistic viewpoint, but from a place of sincere appreciation. I would not trade my experiences, my relationships, for all the graft in Tom DeLay's overseas bank accounts.

Come on, what's really under there?

I met Sally Slingblade on my first night at college. She was part of a group of clueless freshman looking for a party. I was doing the same with another group. When we arrived together at the ZBT house at GSC, people were spilling out of the doorways and windows. I saw two Haitian boat people walk away in disgust complaining that the party was too crowded.

Sally was scared and didn't want to go to the party. I could sense that. It was her first night of independence, her first night away from the security and predictability of Boonville, Cumberland County. I was a couple years removed from high school, having served in the Navy. Neither alcohol, not paddle spanking frat boys interested me. I wanted to meet girls and Sally was now caught in the cross hairs of my libido.

Moving this story along, we smooched that night, and quite a few nights afterwards. We never went all the way, but heavy petting and youthful grinding filled up our dance card whenever we met. She would send me perfumed letters talking about her love for me and desire to watch the sun rise over duckshit pond. I would share the notes with my roommate Matt and we would laugh and giggle at what a proper response would be. I never did write back. I am from the mafia-school of correspondence. Never in writing. Never on the phone.

Sally's dependence on me grew. She would stakeout my classes and wait for me at my dorm. I had known her for about two weeks by this time. We were neither exclusive, nor did I fill her ears with false promises. I was a jerk to her, for sure--just look at this post--but not a jerk in the way one would assume.

One day, while searching for the keys to my suite door, Matt darted through the door.

"Sally is in the room,” he stammered. “She's been there for four hours and won't leave until she sees you!" Recognizing that I was cozy with a stalker, I did what any brave, formerly military, rippling muscles, trained killer would do. I hid in Bluto's room.

Sally saw me sneak into his room and pounded on the door with Waco/Branch Davinian-force. Bluto made an excuse and said I wasn't there. She demanded to search the 15' x 15' box and Bluto denied her request. "Do I know you?" he asked rhetorically. Funny thing is, Bluto didn’t know me. This was our introduction to each other. We would fast become friends.

Sally stomped back to my dorm room, cursing all the way. Realizing that both Matt and now Bluto were victims, I managed to muster the courage to confront Sally.

“Get out! Go away! I don’t want to see you again! You are crazy!” I tried to be delicate but firm.

She did leave, and our contact became less frequent. She called me a week later to tell me she was transferring because I broke her heart (cool, I’m a heart breaker!). My friends once stopped her outside my building; she was crazed and demanding to see me. (I was in the stairwell window, mooning my pals). And, the coup de grace, upon hearing I was seeing someone else, she summoned me downstairs to talk.

“What do you want Sally?” I disinterestingly asked.

“I know you want to kiss me,” she purred, her finger making coy little circles on my belly.

Is she freaking serious? “Is this a dream?” I asked myself.

Using the acting skills I perfected convincing my mother I was sick 14 times senior year, I played the role of the weakened male; unable to refuse the sexual advances of this little minky.

“ I do,” I hurriedly panted, pressing my lips to her lips, my hips to her hips. I kissed her slowly and deeply. She moaned.

Suddenly, I pulled away and ran.

“I hate the power you have over me, Sally. I must never see you again.”

Into my dorm I went, shared the story with my friends and became a folk hero to the moronic. Really, we are all folk heroes to someone; we just need to find what makes us interesting to others.

What is interesting about Sally is that in all the time we spent together, including naked interludes in her roommate-free dorm, she never took off her socks. Never.

I became convinced she possessed an extra toe and thusly gave her the nickname “Six-Toed Sally.”

She eventually got a boyfriend and I became invisible. She seemed pretty happy, which is good. I mean, just because I’m not the one for you, and you are definitely not the one for me, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.

Congratulations Six-Toed Sally. You are the first story in ArtieLange’s celebration of Women’s History Month!

Friday, February 09, 2007

If a tree falls in the woods...

I love this post. It was written by a political scientist who hosts the blog

Advice Please

I'm planning to get my oldest son a laptop computer for a combination birthday and graduation present, and I'm not sure what I need to get. Any advice on brands and processors would be greatly appreciated. I want this to be something good that will hopefully get him through 4 years of college without needing to be replaced during that time frame.

What's the big deal, you say? Well, this post was written on February 7th. She posts about 5 times a day and hadn't received a comment since January 26th. According to my math that's like 5 million posts without a comment. Just whom was she seeking advice from?

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Death Pool Participants Celebrate Anna Nicole's Death

For Madison, Wisconsin residents Jerry Bulgmeyer and David Johansen February 8,2007 was a wonderful day. Known in their Death Pool as Sunny and Share, the two longtime roommates were the only contestants who selected Anna Nicole Smith for a 2007 termination.

With news of the Trim Spa model's death, the two Best Buy employees hugged and danced in the HDTV ailse and then fought off challenges to their sexuality by claiming that it is perfectly normal for two 38-year old guys who have never had girlfriends to coahbitate.

By correctly selecting Smith, the death pool duo picked up 61 points and an early lead in the point standings. Participants in their Yahoo Groups Death Pool, named The Morge (sic), each anted up $20 for the pool. It is a winner-take-all contest.

Should they win, Bulgmeyer and Johansen, who are playing as one, stand to win $40. The only other participant is John Mugwumbi, a farmer from Malawi who thought he was actually buying seeds when he entered the contest.

Said Mugwumbi of Anna Nicole's death, "We are very hungry and if we don't get those seeds we will all die."