Greetings, Cru Jones Society Regulars! Welcome back to your favorite internet tavern for yet another week-ending belt of imbibed refreshment culled from the rows upon rows of the finest Belgian time-wasting hops on the planet. On today’s menu: How the City of Tucson plans to use its now vacant ballparks, the new “greatest generation,” ruining more of your favorite memories, the surefire winner of next year’s Best Picture Award. Pull up a barstool, and have a drink with old HBK and the CJS.


We’ll start with some sad news that we’re sure you’ve already heard: Corey Haim died on Wednesday of an apparent drug overdose. We were saddened, although not surprised, by the news considering how much we love The Lost Boys and always felt Corey Haim had that intangible sparkle that makes people compelling movie stars. Look at that picture above. How would not be endeared to that kid? He was CassieB’s first celebrity crush. And he’s now part of the long line of child stars that can’t handle how uniquely insane it is to be incredibly famous and dies because of drugs.

Here  is the best summary we’ve found so far of Corey Haim’s many failed comeback attempts since you’ve likely read more than enough Gen Xers and Millennials sharing a bunch of overblown, half-cooked nostalgia they have for License To Drive already. RIP Corey.


Here’s some fun nostalgia for you that should serve as a nice palate cleanser from the bitter pill of celebrity death. Little did you know that several of your favorite stars began their careers on the kiddie fare of Nickelodeon. I was well aware of Christine Taylor’s beginnings on Hey Dude only because I’m still completely obsessed with that show but had no idea that Dexter’s wife, Ryan Reynolds (who no doubt was shirtless), and Elisha Cuthbert are all Nick kids too. That’s cool, and I don’t know why.

Ever since the boom of cable television in the early 1980s, those of us marketers like to call Millennials can’t seem to get enough of our own nostalgia. The show didn’t go off the air 10 years ago, and I’m already nostalgic for the show Friends. We’re culturally insane.


Speaking of Millennials, according to a recent study (which is CJS’s favorite lazy journalistic crutch, FYI), our generation wants “more vacation and time for themselves away from the job than young people did 30 years ago, and they also value compensation more.”

Senor Limon and I had a conversation related to this notion last week about how our generation was promised that we’d all be rich, famous and powerful by the time we were 30, and since that’s patently untrue, we’re all righteously pissed off about the frighteningly large enema bag of sunshine crammed up our asses growing up. It’s not that we all need all that material shit to be happy, it’s that it would have been nice to get a little straight talk from our mentors once in a while. Instead we got platitudinal bullshit about how if we just work hard, we can accomplish anything.

We’re not here to shit on hard work, but being successful really does involve an unreasonable amount of luck and a talent to recognize even the slightest light beam of opportunity cracking from an otherwise bolted shut solid steel door in the dark, often soul crushing darkness of reality. Life is filled with a ton of disappointment, and while it tastes like a big spoonful of salt, recognizing that fact tastes like common sense.

So, having come to grips with life’s realities, I suspect our generation has re-assessed and sought the tangible and immediate benefit of more time off from work. There are an absolute ton of shitty jobs out there that pay the bills. If you have one that doesn’t want to pay you more, why not maximize your time away from it? Decent thinking in our estimation.


Our Confessional is as straight forward as it gets this week. What are you drinking? Just tell us what you’ve had a taste for lately, and what’s found its way to your mouth consistently. Enjoying a new cocktail? Revisiting an old favorite? Or are you just enjoying your standard everyday beer? Perhaps you’ve wandered down to the pharmacy to enjoy a phosphate. Send your recent favorite inebriant and tell us why it’s been your drink of choice to and we’ll have a big ol’ BYOB party on Monday.


From the headlines of America’s Finest News Source as well as my brain whenever I talk to that one engineering guy from my most annoying account: “Uh-Oh, Annoying Coworker Going To Tell You Why IndyCar Racing Completely Different From NASCAR.”

Whenever this happens, you have but one choice: Annoy him back with your own nerd obsession. My preferred weapon: Why The Clash embodies the true spirit of punk rock and why The Sex Pistols were a bunch of talentless poseurs. Always fun watching someone squirm when you discuss the xenophobia and inter-class tension of 1970s London. Because no one cares. Not even me, really! Shut up about your stupid auto racing.


Staying on something of a music bent, CNN presents The top 10 geek anthems of all time. I thought I was a geek, but I didn’t have fondness for any of these songs except “Weird Science.” I’ve never heard of “Add It Up” by Violent Femmes, but that probably has something to do with my burning hatred for their song “Blister in the Sun.” Few songs put me in a blind rage like that one. Sweet Jesus.


With two perfectly serviceable baseball stadiums and no Spring Training teams to put in them as well as the recent departure of AAA Diamondbacks affiliate the Tucson Sidewinders to Reno (Great job, Tucson), you may wonder what the city plans to do with the parks. Why, you do what everyone does when they need weird solutions to practical problems – you call Japan!

Tucson baseball officials are negotiating with three Japanese teams to train there next Spring. Among those teams is one of our favorite named teams ever – the Nippon Ham Fighters. That sounds like a team comprised of anime pigs who do battle with evil Japanese farmers in space or some shit. There’s also talk of staging a few games between the D-backs and the Rockies against these teams a couple of times during the Spring campaign. All hope is not lost for our yearly CJS rendezvous! And the peasants rejoice!


The 2010 CJS Favorite Rockies Prospect Award goes to: Al Alburquerque!

How is that a real name? Sadly Lady E and I were buying beer when his name was announced, but Senor Limon heard it and couldn’t wait to share.

Al Alburquerque. Outstanding.


Continuing our borderline obsessive mentions of Ryan Spilborghs… Does this guy look like Tim Burton re-imagined Spilly to anyone else?


Friday is the gateway to the weekend, and just as a gateway often leads to the unknown, so does Friday lead to a weekend full of surprises. Case in point: Received a random text message from a friend Wednesday morning offering free tickets for me, Hart, Lady E and himself to the WWE event at the Pepsi Center tonight. While I knew Hart would immediately and enthusiastically accept the invitation, Lady E would take a bit of convincing. After a bunch of prodding from me – I even showed her the fight card like that would make a difference, I’m an idiot – and unexpected excitement from her co-workers, we’re all headed out tonight to yell at Randy Orton and drunkenly do the crotch chop along with DX. High times, my friends.

And speaking of DX, at a recent San Antonio Spurs game, their mascot The Coyote ran afoul of the Charlotte Bobcats mascot and took a cheap shot to the back of the head. The fans looked for a hero, and lo and behold, who was sitting courtside but the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels. He walked solemnly to center court, and delivered Sweet Chin Music to the evil Bobcat (great sell job by the Bobcat, by the way) avenging the Coyote to the cheers of the fans and giving this Happy Friday its name.

The only way this segment could have possibly been any better is if Shawn suddenly turned heel and superkicked Manu Ginobili. That would be fucking off the charts cool.


We hope you enjoyed our Oscar articles last week, and while the world has moved on (Theaters won’t even give a victory lap to Best Picture winner The Hurt Locker), far be it from us to deny incisive commentary about the show, even if we’re a bit late on it.

This Op-Ed from the New York Times raises the question of why we still have acting awards segregated by gender. It’s an interesting argument we hadn’t even considered, but as this piece points out, whereas having gender delineations in sports makes sense, having them for acting prowess does not. Acting ability is not inherently more natural for men or women, so why have we continued this arcane practice? In 1929 it made sense considering the recent gender equality victories in society in general, but now? It’s just sort of weird. What are your thoughts? Tell us in the comments section.

While gender politics still leave Oscar questions to be answered, the race for next year’s Best Picture is officially over. The brilliant minds at Britanick have crafted the ultimate Oscar film trailer, and it’s begging to be watched right now. Well done, chaps. Well done. A more thorough evisceration of worn Oscar bait tropes, we have not seen. This was supremely executed.


Our pals at Sporcle – we use the term “pals” loosely considering we’ve never met anyone associated with Sporcle – have begun adding audio quizzes to their assemblage of ricockulous time wasting ecstasy. Not great for screwing off at work, but awesome if you’ve stopped giving a shit and want to auditorially annoy your co-workers and supervisors.

In a quiz near and dear to my heart Sporcle challenges you to name these 32 sitcom intros from the 90s. I’m trying to decide what pisses me off more: The fact that I missed out on a perfect score thanks to two shows I never watched, or that I’ve likely spoiled a huge swath of my brain by holding onto crap like the theme song of “Who’s the Boss” all these years. Tough call.


Word ‘round the campfire is, due to the success of the Alice in Wonderland reboot, Hollywood wants to take a crack at updating The Wizard of Oz. I suppose you probably expected me to get all high and mighty about how Hollywood has no new ideas, and how you can’t mess with a classic like The Wizard of Oz and sully its memory with a hare-brained idea like this one and blah blah blah blah.

All that’s basically still true, but I realized that it doesn’t matter if Hollywood has run out of ideas. Vote with your money. I couldn’t care less about the new Alice in Wonderland, so I don’t go. Likewise, I probably wouldn’t watch an updated Wizard of Oz either because the one I love is perfect the way it is. Although if we’re looking at this objectively, a Wizard of Oz update is probably overdue since the iconic film is now more than 70 years old and anyone associated with it is now dead.

In summation, whatever. I’ll continue to watch my version while Hollywood can do whatever it wants. I don’t care.


If any of you have some money burning a hole in your pocket, keep your eyes open for souls on sale. You get them in glass vials and everything, which will be perfect if you like to store your extra souls in the kitchen, and I do. I keep it right next to the extra virgin olive oil so that if I’m ever sautéing something and think it needs a little extra kick, I just reach for the vial of soul. Adds something mystical to an otherwise standard weeknight meal.

I also recently purchased a vial of someone’s dignity off eBay because it gives my meals an added sense of class that is kinder to animals and less pungent tasting than adding foie gras. Buying bottles of intangible qualities of the human condition adds a great deal to your kitchen repertoire. It’s also the moronic pursuit of insane rich people.


However, if you’re looking to unload that soul of yours, I’m sure Happy Plane would be more than thrilled to help with its removal.

It’s like the fully realized version of those creepy as fuck American Express commercials. Gives me the piss shivers.

Happy Friday, everyone!