Wow, this is awkward. I don't much care for Miami Marlins manager Ozzie Guillen, and it has absolutely nothing at all to do with his remarks about Fidel Castro. Personally, I could give two shits and a fuck about what any MLB manager, player, owner, mascot, et cetera thinks about world affairs. I don't care much for Guillen from his time as skipper of that other baseball team in Chicago, you know...the team that isn't my beloved Cubs. The one our President roots for, if memory serves correct.

Having said that, I find the concept of the Marlins suspending Guillen for five games in the wake of protests about the remarks from a interview with Time's website completely fucking ludicrous. Take this quote from the Miami Herald website's ongoing coverage:

“Ozzie is quick at the mouth; always has been,” said Andy Gomez, an assistant provost and senior fellow at the Institute for Cuban and Cuban-American Studies at the University of Miami. “He’s a great manager, but he should stick to something he knows.”

Exactly. The guy's a loudmouth, sure. He was, once again, outside of his wheelhouse when he made those remarks, so why the fuck is there so much protest over someone who apparently doesn't know what the fuck he's talking making a statement that plays right into that very notion? For a team to suspend him five games over this? Maybe appropriate, but I'm leaning toward reactionary on this one. What I want to know is, how many games is it for calling Bud Selig a shriveled-ass punk cocksucker?

Oh, wow...I thought this shit quit happening in the late 90s. As it turns out, one of those social misfits, you know- touched in the head, decided to kill his ex-girlfriend's mom and her new boyfriend with an axe. You know, the kind of shit you see on Cops every other rerun. But naturally, there are news reports about the trail of whiny Internet bullshit he posted leading up to the incident, including lyrics from the band Blue October (remember them?) and Gotye's baffling worldwide hit "Somebody That I Used to Know."

Among others, The Huffington Post reached out to representatives of both acts for comment. Comment as to what? I can just imagine how that would go down:

Some idiot shared some of your work on Facebook, then killed two people and wounded another with an axe before eating a bullet himself. How do you feel about that?

"Well, gee Katie, that's a great question. No wonder Sarah Palin hates you. I would have to say I don't think there's a downside here...it hasn't affected sales or airplay, and the social media buzz, well, you just can't put a price on it..."

Does anyone really freaking think the guy's Facebook postings are some kind of valuable window into the mind of a killer, or just wasting three hours of taxpayer money wading through song lyrics and achievements on The Sims Social?

I mean, I think the real question here is why wouldn't somebody be driven to homicide by Gotye's music? If it were not for the ability to change the channel, switch to CD or MP3, or just turn the damn thing off, I would have already:

-driven a screwdriver through the heart of my car stereo
-ripped it out, wires and all.
-drawn and quartered the stereo with a cutting torch.
-incinerated the quarter pieces separately.
-sucker punched the ashes when they weren't looking.
-bury the remains of three pieces in far flung locations.
-had James Cameron drop the fourth in the abyss next time he's down that way.
-salted the earth so nothing would ever grow there again.

And that's just for the Gotye song. Blue October I can do without, but Gotye...what the hell, man? If you're going to go out in a self-inflicted blaze of glory, at least leave a trail of Facebook postings with decent guitars to it. Pussy.

Okay, great...doctors are wanting to redefine autism, which has parents worried, according to a recent USA Today article. Yeah, I'd be worried too, cause now every third kid is gonna be autistic, instead of every fifth kid. Must be a hot new (read very ass-poundingly expensive) line of therapy getting ready to hit market.

Yeah, it's easy to be cynical. You got washed-up Playmates making the rounds on the TV talk show circuit spouting health tips, proving reinvention indeed knows no bounds, no matter how half-assed it may be out in the daylight. With more autistic children than ever in the United States, 1 in 88 according to the latest government data, you know at some level, someone is looking at autism as a growth industry. I mean, somebody's making a nickel here and there off those cause ribbon magnets, et cetera...

Doctors on a American Psychiatric Board panel say the revision is necessary to weed out labels and clarify the range of symptoms for autism, which would make it easier to diagnose and ensure that true autistics receive the same diagnosis. The new definition may also help determine whether or not the rising numbers reflect a real increase or are the result of overdiagnosis.

Yeah, until the next C-lister decides it's easier to slap on a shocked or concerned face and elict emotions from Anderson Cooper, or those cackling hens on The View. I appreciate the American Psychiatric Board's position, and I truly hope this leads to a better overall picture of what we're dealing with, but having said that, I'm off to see what kind of deals (wholesale) I can get on ribbon magnets...

Okay, I got it by now...we're living in a digital age. I joined the smartphone generation, and watched helplessly as it took over half my shit. I've fought the games (even Angry Birds), I've fought loading down my phone with every soundboard from Joe Pesci to Christopher Walken (although the Archer Deluxe by Jason Maxfield is top-shelf), but now, I am reading news that the next item to be declared on the verge of extinction is business cards.

Aw, hell no. I've seen the end of Polaroids, the print Encyclopedia Britannica, and lawn darts...not business cards! I met you halfway and retired my Roladex. Digital cards are great, don't get me wrong- I have three on my phone: my business, my joint business, and my political action committee. That'd be a bitch carrying around all three, but how do you propose I staple my smartphone to a bulletin board somewhere in East Lower Bumblefuck, Kentucky, on the offhand chance somebody gets the joke on one of our t-shirts, let alone decides to buy one?

No, I'm not ready to step in line with the pundits and proclaim the impending death of the business card. Not just yet. Probably the day after I yell at some kids to get off my lawn. The coupon, however...