CUTTING COMMENTARY

Well, leave it to your local hard-core barber to put things in perspective.

While getting one of my 5 budgeted haircuts for the year last week, I was in the barber chair, and of course any cat knows when you get in the barber chair, salty language and talk of current events is not only expected, it's required.

Well, all I needed to do to get the cat going was mention Paris Hilton and her jail controversy.

And he proceeded with a rant about "assholes" getting all upset about that c-word and whether or not she's going to jail and the end of the "fucking" Sopranos, but there's still a war going on and nobody seems to "give a shit" about that.

I was with the cat, until he started going into a rant about how great Rudy Guiliani would be for this country. I pretty much just sat there and let the dude trim my locks, and then chimed in that he should run for office. And said something to the effect of, "you have to be a fucking millionaire" to get elected in this country. Again, I was back with him.

Dude gives a pretty good hair cut, too.

BREAKING NEWS: As I sit here typing, Carlos Beltran just got a hit.

Some other notes:
Beer count continues to skyrocket, and there's no end in sight.

Last Wednesday, I coached daughter Georgia's softball finale, and at the end of the year ice cream shindig, one of the moms of the kids on the team gave me a six pack of Coors Light. Now, that's certainly not my favorite beer - not even close - but hell, it was free, and you know my slogan, "if it's free, it's for me." Anyway, that night, while watching the mets get their asses kicked for a third straight night at Dodger Stadium, I banged down a few silver bullets.

On Friday night, I took Georgia to a father/daughter girl scout dance. Of course, I had a great time, and was able to keep my mind off the goings on in the Bronx for most of the night. I got home just in time to see William Wagner close it out and at that moment it dawned on me that my mood depends a lot on the fortunes of 25 millionaires who call themselves the Mets. It's really sad, really. I mean all last week I was in a shitty mood, but from about 10 p.m. Friday til about 3:30 Saturday, I was on top of the world.

I wonder if David Wright is cranky on days I have a rough night at work.

Anyway, back to the beer count: I had about 2 on Friday watching the replay of the mets-Yanks game, and then about 12 Saturday at Joe. Sr.'s house for a little Father's Day Shindig.
And now I find out the softball team I toil on will play a Saturday night double header with a kegger to follow at the Knights of Columbus Hall.

I'll do my best to keep count.

Sorry for the lack of schtick here, I just figured I'd weigh in. Look for some sort of music list at the end of the week or early next week. I'm pondering listing the 10 most underrated bands, since the overrated list created quite a stir.

Let's go Mets . . . please.