September gurls do so much
I was your butch and you were touched
I loved you, well, never mind
I've been crying all the time

December boys got it bad

September gurls, I don't know why
How can I deny what's inside
Even though I'll keep away
Maybe we'll love all our days

When I get to bed, late at night
That's the time she makes things right
Ooh when she makes love to me

-Big Star, "September Gurls" 

Those who are familiar with me know that I'm a venerable Whitman's Sampler of hate, containing a wide assortment of slightly different topics in which I can no doubt hate upon. Speaking of which, have you ever notified that there is no actual box of Whitman's candies, only the Whitman's Sampler? Sampler implies that there are unique groups of confections available for sale somewhere, and the Whitman's Sampler is a conflation of all these different kinds of specialized candies. Kind of like how Red Lobster has the Seafood Sampler. However, notice that one never sees a box of Whitman's candies for sale – only the Whitman's Sampler. The whole thing makes no sense. In any event, the point is I hate on things, and today's topic deals with my new bank, Chase.

About five months ago, Washington Mutual, my former bank, had a minor flaw in their business model, in the sense that they went bankrupt. JPMorgan Chase decided to buy them at a discount rate, which meant all the Washington Mutuals would become Chase banks. This was all fine and good, until Chase decided that they needed everything converted from the old Washington Mutual to the new Chase. All the signs came down, all the websites changed, and as of last Saturday, they decided to merge the Washington Mutual customer deposits into the Chase customer deposits. This would be okay if they did it, say, in the middle of the night, and they were quick and efficient about it. However, they decided to do it at 4:00pm on a Saturday. All their ATMs no longer functioned, and of course they closed all their branches so no one could have access to their hard-earned capital. No one, including me, could get access to his or her money at all. Somehow I am the only one who has a problem with this. Some guy named Lefty could have been threatening me with the business unless I paid him off, and I wouldn't have been able to do it, and then would have found myself at the bottom of a river sleeping with the fishes. So thanks JPMorgan Chase for almost killing me last Saturday. I look forward to doing business with you in the coming years.

After a nearly four-month absence, I finally have another clown-related story to share with the masses. Patricia Ingalls, a professional clown, was arrested on Friday for alleged drunken driving after she left the scene of an accident. The story is complete with mugshot goodness. Ingalls was apparently, according to her version of the story, driving to a children's party when she got into an accident. She then fled the scene and drank heavily before continuing to the party, where I can only assume she continued to drink heavily in front of children. Police then showed up to arrest her. Here is where her story falls apart:

"They[the children] were all hanging on me and saying, 'Don't take the clown,'" said Ingalls.

Uh huh, sure they were. What a magical place it must be to live in blood alcohol level .252 land, where your profession is respected by children, and they beg law enforcement officials to forgive your felonies, even after you show up at a party looking like this woman did in her mugshot. Good times. 

It's that time of year again – the time in which I congratulate myself for being able to afford the 35 dollars a year it takes to have my unique brand of humor and observation placed on the intertubes. You might have noticed the lack of updates here, except for Burson's posts, whose sole function is to report about sports and sports-like information. This reminds me, are you aware that there is a television program that airs after Portland Trail Blazer games entitled Talkin' Ball? And yes, they really don't include the 'g' in talking. They also don't specify what ball they are indeed talkin'. It could be football, baseball, golf, softball, tennis, croquet, and maybe even cricket. In fact, they could even been talkin' 'bout quidditch. I think quidditch uses flying balls. That's a little bit like an Earth ball. And speaking about the Earth, am I the only one who actually despises Earth Day? I don't really care about the Earth. As someone who isn't going to have kids, I have no vested interest in saving the Earth. When I die, it will be someone else's problem. Let them deal with it. Also, if global warming wiped out all the major cities that were less than 100 feet above sea level, I think that would be a positive thing. Los Angeles, Miami, and New York City can all eat a full bag of it. Speaking of eating a full bag of it, were you aware that there were mass demonstrations of people protesting high taxes in major cities, and they called them tea parties? I was under the impression that everyone loved paying his or her taxes. They referred to this act of civil disobedience as teabagging, which clearly means that no one who organized these protests were under the age of 40. Here is a link to the best article I have ever read regarding this issue, which includes a summary from MSNBC's David Shuster about said teabagging:

He described the parties as simultaneously "full-throated" and "toothless," and continued: "They want to give President Obama a strong tongue-lashing and lick government spending." Shuster also noted how the protesters "whipped out" the demonstrations this past weekend.

Genius. If only they could make every important issue involve crude sexual acts. Also, has anyone else been receiving a large amount of spam recently? Also, doesn't this spam seems awfully specific toward your interests? I've had about 20 emails per day these last few weeks offering me Vicodin, Valium, Xanax, and Zoloft overnighted to me without a prescription. Perhaps Google is the one who sends out these spams based off one's search history. The whole thing fills me with fear and anxiety. If only there were something I could take that would fix that.

Well, that's about it. I can't release too much anger and bitterness in one post. After all, that would make me look like a crazy person, know what I mean? Uhh, yeah, and go!

As those of you in the Portland area may or (somehow) may not know, our beloved Portland Trail Blazers are gearing up for their first trip to post-season - otherwise known as "playoff" - action in six long, hard, barren years. Indeed, it's been lean times around the city lately, and the anguish of loyal fans has been palpable in the streets of Portland this last half-decade.

Oh, right, I'm thinking of a different city. Over the last six playoff-free years, no one in this city has given a fat flying fuck about the team, and now all of a sudden everyone's trampling over old ladies and children in wheelchairs to be the next on the bandwagon. Bemused as I am by this sudden interest - it does after all make my job that much more interesting - I'm also thoroughly annoyed with it. Whatever happened to loyalty? Four, five years ago, I was spending my meager earnings on $10 rafter tickets to watch an uninspired Blazer team - under the watchful supervision of their probation officers - lose in front of 4,500 fans on a good day. What was the rest of the city doing then? Hell if I know, but it most certainly wasn't watching the Blazers.

Sure, everyone had an excuse; there's always "all the players are criminals," or "they just aren't that exciting to watch," et cetera. Bullshit. Your team is your team, regardless of whether or not they're employing multiple felons or losing a lot [FULL DISCLOSURE NOTICE: Burson is, as you all well know, a rabid Oakland Raiders fan, so he's used to felonious teams that dog it every game]. My point is not that you the fan always need to condone what your team is doing. Just show some semblance of pride and loyalty in the bad times, and celebrate during the good. If there's one thing that the rally at Pioneer Courthouse Square today showed me, it's that those who HAVEN'T been there all along celebrate much harder than those who have.

While I may be somewhat put off by the flagrant acts of bandwagon-jumping occurring all around the city, I live by one rule: embrace, don't hate. So God bless, Portland. Drink up on these good times like a Polack drinks up vodka. Soak in the playoff aura like a contraceptive sponge soaks up... well, you get the idea. Whether you've been there from day one or not, live it up. When they start losing again, however, I BETTER still see your ass at the games.

It's that time of year again, that beautiful time when the verdant foliage awakes from its slumber, Old Man Winter busts his final icy nut over the landscape, and, perhaps the surest sign of spring, freakishly tall man-boys entertaining freakishly fat spectators with fascinating displays of ball-handling prowess. Indeed, college basketball playoff season, or "March Madness," as the kids are calling it these days, is upon us. I know, exciting, right?

For the sake of certain wyvern920.com readers, basically what we're talking about here is 64 college basketball teams playing each other in a "bracket" format, so as to ensure a streamlined gambling experience. Teams are "seeded" according to their level of talent and size of endowment fund, so that good teams such as the University of North Carolina are playing severely deficient teams the likes of the Eastern Maine Institute of Lobster Fishery Sciences. This goes on, on and, wait for it... on for four rounds or so, until there are but four teams remaining: the fabled "Final Four." Out of this sheer insanity, or madness, if you will, the NCAA Division-I Men's Basketball Champion is crowned. Don't care? Me neither.

Allow me to explain. Despite the fact that I worked the first two rounds of the Tournament, which went down at the Rose Garden, I find it difficult to get excited about college basketball. While I enjoy the game of basketball, the college game is, on the surface, too squeaky-clean. While I realize that there are dark nuances to recruiting, training and playing in a collegiate setting, I've never been one for hidden dirt. I prefer my corruption out in the open, a la Rod Blagojevich or the Oakland Raiders. Thus, until the NCAA sanctions point shaving, sucker-punching and general shit talking, I ain't watching.

When I worked for University of Montana Athletics, there were posters everywhere - EVERYWHERE - in the players' area warning about loss of eligibility for violations ranging from substances to gambling. Fuck. This. As far as I'm concerned, we need MORE substances, gambling and assorted bad behavior in sports. Once they leave the court, I want to see players snorting coke-n-roid cocktails before heading off to place bets with unlicensed gaming establishments, all the while carousing with hookers and, God willing, fighting a brutha or two. Hopefully, this should lead to an all-around and desirable increase in on-court violence and watchability.

I encourage all of you to write your Congressmen and/or women to demand that something is done about this. Violence, vice and excess are proud American traditions, and are sorely lacking from one of our most allegedly American institutions: March Madness.

He was born on September 4th, 1918, and was the son of a police officer. He got his start working in a Tulsa radio station as a janitor before being allowed to fill in and read commercials. Working his way up took him to radio stations such as KOMA and KXOK before briefly serving in the United States Army Air Forces during World War II. After the war he resumed radio, working at WENR before being syndicated via ABC Radio Network. Now, page two.

Have you heard the dulcet tones of the Bose Wave Radio? I get letters from all around the country from people who love their Bose Wave Radio. Gertrude Maloney from Sioux Falls, South Dakota loves her Bose Wave Radio. She writes "I have never had a finer radio in my life. Every morning I wake up and turn on my Bose Wave Radio and enjoy it." Why don't you give Bose a call and tell them to send you a Bose Wave Radio? Now, page three.

A distinguished author, he has written seven books about American culture. In 2005 he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He has be named Salesman of the Year, Commentator of the Year, Person of the Year, Father of the Year, and American of the Year, and was even named to the Nation Associate of Broadcasters Radio Hall of Fame. But he always knew what was important to him – the love of his wife of 63 years. He died on February 28th, 2009. And that man's name was… Paul Harvey.

And now you know… the rest of the story. Good day!

It feels like déjà vu, and not because I've started crying at random intervals during the day again, but because once again it is Black Love Day, or BLD. If you are a loyal reader of this site, you have no doubt heard me discuss at length about how awesome Black Love Day is. Here is a new article discussing the tenets of BLD. I personally love point number two:

To demonstrate love in action and service by performing at least five (5) specific loving acts - Love for the Creator, love for self, love for the family, love for the community, and love for the Black race.

Talk about a difficult demand – I believe that five acts of self-love is a strenuous order for any day. But who am I to argue the tenets of BLD? BLD is way better than V-Day. Plus, once again, the article points out that BLD is not something for African-Americans only, but for all people. So there is no need to experience any liberal guilt in celebrating this joyous holiday.

Am I forgetting something?

Oh, right.

Yes indeed, I am a creature of habit. And crazy.

I've been asked, probably drunkenly, to calculate the odds of an event happening during a particular poker game. Rather than run these numbers by myself, I thought I would share them with the Internet public. Here are the odds that three people playing poker will get pocket aces, kings, and queens respectively. When a player is dealt a card, there are 52 possible cards to receive. After one received the first card, there are 51 possible cards to receive. So,

but the order one receives their starting cards doesn't matter. (i.e. Say one gets the king of hearts for their first card, and the 4 of clubs for their second card. It would be the same result if they got the 4 of clubs for the first card and the king of hearts for the second card.) So we divide the number of starting hands by 2. Thus,

We can represent this in the binomial coefficient for cleaner notation.

This says we have 52 objects, and we choose 2 of them, where the order does not matter. It is equal to the following:

Therefore, for pocket aces there are 4 aces to choose from, followed by another ace. Thus, the probability for the first person to get pocket aces is the following:

or 0.45 %. The odds that the second person will get pocket kings is the following: There are 48 cards left in the deck that are not aces after the first person got pocket aces. We are still choosing 2 kings from a possible 4 kings. Thus:

or 0.53 %. The process is the same for the person getting pocket queens, but with 44 cards now.

or 0.63 %. We must have all these events occur, so we multiply each of these events together to get this percentage:
or
This represents a 0.0000153 % of occurring in our particular Texas hold'em game. If one didn't care about who got what hand (i.e. if one only cared that AA, KK, and QQ were drawn at the same time, but not about which players got particular cards, we would multiply this percentage by 3.) The probability of getting this event would be 0.0000458 %.

In case you were wondering, in a six-person game, the probability of the person holding QQ to end up facing an opponents holding KK or AA are as follows: Since we know that the person holding QQ already has two known cards (The two queens), the calculations are similar to the previous ones, with each probability of getting AA and KK occurring out of the total known hands. Thus,

or 0.980 %. Since there are five opponents, each opponent has this probability of having AA or KK. So,

or 4.90 %. The probability of a person holding QQ to face two opponents having AA and KK in a six-person game is 0.091 %. The probability of a person holding KK to face a person holding AA in a six-player game is 2.4%.

When it comes to the odds of winning, a person holding AA versus any pocket pair has an 82% of winning the pot. When the person holding AA is against two players each holding pocket pairs, it goes down to 67.24%. For the person holding KK, his chances of winning against someone with AA and QQ are 26.86%. Finally, for the poor person holding QQ against players with AA and KK, his chances of winning are just 3.24% with the remaining 2.66% dedicated to various flushes and straights possibilities.

I believe these are correct, but if you have qualms with the results, or believe I made a mistake, then feel free to drop me a line and we can nerd out about them. If you are a girl and find these calculations tantalizing, then you can also email as well, preferably with pictures. 

(Editor's note: the judges would have also accepted "Pretentious Dipsters")

The Super Bowl was a couple of days ago. No, not the Super Bowl you are thinking of, but my Super Bowl – My Super Bowl of Dips. There were many strong contenders for this years Vince Lombardip trophy. How about we meet the contenders this year, shall we?

•  Clam Dip: The perennial favorite. It always seems to be in the running for the championship, and it is a consistent bet to be a crowd pleaser. Clam Dip's teammates were ridged potato chips. As a concoction of clams, cream cheese, and fat, it is sure to reduce at least six months of your life.
• Spinach Artichoke Dip: A second year entry. This dip made its appearance last year, and was a huge hit. It made a strong case last year for dip supremacy, and is coming back even hungrier this year. The Spinach Artichoke Dip's teammates were WinCo brand tortilla chip strips. Consisting of sour cream, mayonnaise (keep it light on the mayo, whitey), chopped spinach, chopped artichoke hearts, Parmesan cheese, and cream cheese, this dip is best served warm. While not as bad for you as clam dip, make no illusions of its health just because it has vegetables in it. This dip will kill you dead.
• Onion Dip: Also known as California Dip. This was a new entrant into the Super Bowl, and right from the get go it meant business. The teammates for this dip can include potato chips or even vegetables. Comprising of caramelized onions and sour cream, the key to this dip is to plan ahead and make it the day before, as to allow the flavors to meld and mellow together. This dip will make your mouth taste like a raw onion, and make everyone you know despise you.
• Beer-Cheese Spread: Although not technically a dip, this is a scrappy young newcomer. It is a bit thicker than a traditional dip; it can be dipped into using a cracker or similar delivery device. Thus the judges allowed its entry into the realm of dips.  Its main teammate was a package of Ritz crackers. Encompassing the spread were three kinds of cheese, onions, Worcestershire, mustard, and Hefeweizen beer. If you eat enough of it at once, not only will your stomach succumb to the lactose (especially those of us who don't eat a lot of dairy), but also you might actually catch a buzz.
• Bean Dip: I actually didn't make this dip; in fact, much like me, this dip wasn't even planned. It was simply a leftover side of beans and cheese from King Burrito that I heated up in a container. This was an excellent decision, as it was the perfect consistency for a dip. When paired with tortilla chips, this dip showed that it could handle the more experienced dips in the Super Bowl. It was also the closest thing to a healthy dip at the Bowl game.

The First Quarter: things began strong for all the teams. The Spinach Artichoke Dip jumped out to an early lead, as it was the perfect temperature for consumption. Disaster struck early for the bean dip, when it was entirely consumed. Apparently, there were not enough leftovers to adequately provide long-term nourishment. However, I predict this young team to be back in subsequent years and Super Bowls.

The Second Quarter: with only four dips left, the game pulled tighter. Both the clam and onion dips were able to catch up to the spinach artichoke dip. Suddenly, the spinach artichoke dip was hit with a delay of game penalty, after I ran out of tortilla chips. This allowed all three dips that didn't rely on tortilla chips to catch up until another bag of tortilla chips was found to accompany the spinach artichoke dip.

The Third Quarter: the beer-cheese spread really began this quarter strong. As the beer-cheese spread was positioned onto the Ritz cracker, its coverage was overwhelming. This spread really played the D well in this quarter, as the Ritz cracker was completely covered and consumed.

The Fourth Quarter: this is what separates the man-dips from the boy-dips. As we progressed into the final minutes of the game, it looked as if the clam dip would be declared the winner, but in the end the onion dip was able to sneak a victory. What can I say? I love onions. It went perfect with chips or vegetables, and the caramelization of the onions provided just the right amount of flavor.

I can't believe that I was able to stretch the dip idea this far. Somebody kill me now. I am a loser.