The lime green jersey sported by the Seattle Seahawks in last Sunday’s 25-19 home loss to the Chicago Bears is absolutely done here.

Having missed two critical field goals in Seattle's 25-19 home loss to Da Bears, the "C" on place-kicker Olindo Mare's jersey stands for "Captain Done Here, Buddy."

To learn more about the Seattle Seahawks’ uniform history, please consult the following website: http://www.greenartmag.com/HawksUnis.html

Those that know me are aware that I enjoy nothing more than a thick roll of double-ply toilet paper. My love affair with said product dates back many years and can be credited to my mother, who understood that a little extra padding is essential when quelling the aftermath of certain Chicago food items. My affinity for double-ply blossomed during my Freshman year at Colorado College. During one hall meeting, I even orated a formal complaint  to the Residential Life Coordinator that the frail single-ply supplied by the school was not only “not cutting it,” but was also leaving my more private areas dried-up and damaged.

Let us fast forward to modern times where I am basically broke. I woke up this morning to discover that our house  had no toilet paper. The last thing that I wanted to do was withdraw money from the ATM for what would be a meager $1 charge. After rummaging through our collection of spare change, I was able to put together enough money in quarters and headed over to the local liquor store.  While the purchase of “Sunny Toilet Paper” temporarily relieved any problems I may have encountered this morning, I was left feeling fragile and worrisome of the impending discomfort to be encountered during future trips to the toilet. It’s no doubt that the economy has been hit hard.  But … the good lord knows that I spent many a night–on both hands and knees–praying … praying that I would never see the day in which I would support the product I most loathed then and which has become my reality now: a roll of low-quality toilet paper.

I'm not sure how much longer I can go on like this...

Personal experience is one thing that I really try to incorporate in You’re Done Here, Buddy. That said, this past weekend I was reminded of a buddy, whose propensity for cock-blocking, plagiarism and blowing up of proverbial spots, are well deserving of this week’s first post. Last Friday night, I attended a house party in Oakland, CA whose theme was “Bad Ideas.” The way in which the partygoers expressed this theme varied in both appearance and philosophy. Nonetheless, I took particular notice of a girl whose shoes I found to be rather compelling–a pair of Nike high-tops.  Soon after noticing her shoes, I mentioned to my brother, Ross, how fly I thought they were. Initially unimpressed by the shoes, my brother responded with a searing retort, classic in both its delivery and content: “Not that tight.”

Given how similar each pair is, I find it interesting that my brother originally chose to disparage the young lady's shoes.

After momentarily turning my attention to a woman offering me a shot of brown Taiwanese liquor, I regained my focus and noticed that my brother was now engaged with the very girl whose shoes I originally complimented. I discretely moseyed past the two newly acquainted partygoers only to discover that my brother, with shit eater in tact, was complimenting the very same shoes he minutes before proclaimed as being “Not that tight.” I felt both saddened and hurt. How could my brother betray me in such a way? His vacillating tactics need to be called out for their doneness. Ross: You’re Done Here, Buddy.

It is now clear that my brother's scheme was both malicious and well-calculated. His only intention was to loot the goods all for himself.

Here’s a little something to think about as you head out and return home this weekend.

Now … there’s nothing wrong with a good old-fashion roughhouse, but there is just no room for such a game in today’s politically correct world.  STQ: You’re Officially Done Here, Buddy.

It’s no secret that the economy has got everyone on edge. No matter where we go or who we surround ourselves with, we are constantly reminded that the going has gotten tough. Even as President Obama stimulates economic recovery packages in Washington, it remains to be seen how quickly and to what extent we as a nation will recover and stabilize. While the current economic crisis has affected many of us in ways we cannot control, it is worth noting that one area which individuals can control–our own civility–has taken a notable turn for the Done Here, Buddy.

Speaking from my own experience, BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) commuters need to be called out. They are, in my estimation, the worst group of public commuters I have ever seen. Just the other day, I literally stood in awe as a group of roughly seven to eight commuters boarded a train car without hesitation as they prevented a young woman from getting off the train.  Where has the civility gone, my friends? Some fundamental questions need to be asked of these commuters: 1) Why are you in such a hurry to get on the train when the train conductor clearly waits for all passengers to board? 2) Have you forgotten that, in this country, we allow people to exit a threshold prior to entering one? 3) Does your lack of respect for other people make you totally Done Here, Buddy?

BART Commuters, who, unlike their Chinese counterparts, do not suffer from extreme overpopulation, do suffer from a case of being totally done here.

Transportation is not the only area where we can see how “Done Here, Buddy” our society has become. Even professional athletes seem to be losing their Herculean austere and Phil Jackson(esque) composure.

Whoa, Serena. Did you just threaten to kill that helpless Line Judge?

You’re Done Here, Buddy.

An efficient cooling system:  中国 . 北京 . 天安门

As the dog-days of summer draw to a close, let us turn our attention to a buddy, who, while definitely done here, also inspires curiosity and wonderment.  I am referring to the buddy that wears a winter coat when the weather simply does not call for such an article. Having spent two years living, studying and working in the “Middle Kingdom,” I am more than familiar with the Chinese idea that sweating is the body’s natural cooling system. Chinese people have cultivated an imperviousness to heat, exemplified by summertime customs of drinking blistering hot tea & water and wearing long-sleeved shirts & pants. While the Chinese may define a sweaty ball-sack as the measurement by which sufficient cooling has taken place, it is difficult to understand how these customs  have infiltrated the American psyche.

I mean, when was the last time you actually took one?

If, like Charlie Meredith, you answered “this morning”, then you are officially done here, buddy.

This guy, just seconds away from being totally done here, takes his bong hit with cookies and CREAM.

I REALLY wanted to reserve this post until the 2009 Chicago Cubs were officially eliminated from playoff contention, but this weekend’s events have left me with no choice but to do otherwise. For those of you that don’t know, Cubs’ General Manager suspended RF and fan favorite Milton Bradley (.257, 12, 40) for the remainder of the 2009 season. Acquired in the offseason on a 3 year $30 million contract, Hendry touted Bradley as the left-handed  bat that would provide balance and stability to the Cubs’  predominately right-handed lineup, which had been swept out of the playoffs in each of the last two seasons. The move certainly turned heads as many Cubs’ fans wondered why Hendry declined to go after a number of available left-handed sluggers such as Raul Ibanez (.277, 31, 87), Adam Dunn (.278, 37, 101) and Bobby Abreu (.295, 13, 96).

Milton Bradley (right) has the look of a man now $30 dollars richer. Chicago Cubs' General Manager, Jim Hendry, has the look of a man who is absolutely Done Here.

While there are myriad reasons (inability to play small ball, no speed, lack of execution with runners in scoring position etc.) and players / coaches (Milton Bradley, Alfonso Soriano, Carlos Zambrano, Lou Piniella and Trainer Mark O’Neal) that are responsible for the total suckage of this year’s Chicago Cubs , these factors speak to the greater ineptitude of Jim Hendry to put together a winner.  It should come as no surprise to Cubs’ fans that  an AGING Soriano is hurt or cannot hit the  curveball. This just in, he’s always been an undisciplined first-pitch fastball hitter.

Alfonso Soriano, like Pedro Cerrano, has a hard time hitting the curveball.

In addition, I could definitely spend an entire week speaking about Bradley’s inability to stay focused during a game or simply hit the ball where the opposing team is not. His performance on the field, however, has provided little margin for his behavioral error and “me first” attitude. But … how is this unlike anything we haven’t seen before? Um, like, hello: this toolbox has been on seven teams in his 10 year career for a reason.

It has been said numerous times  that a select group of PLAYERS  need to take a long hard look in the mirror. The same HAS to be said about Jim Hendry  who has invested  a total of $136 million in Alfonso Soriano, $91.5 million in Carlos Zambrano, $30 million in Milton Bradley and $48 million in Kosuke Fukudome. It is clear that defense has never been a priority for Jim Hendry, especially in the case of Milton Bradley and Alfonso Soriano, but Hendry should have had the foresight to see these problems manifest themselves down the road.  If, as I have stated, defense was never a priority for Hendry, why not choose a player who AT THE VERY LEAST has a proven track record of being a team player with equal offensive credentials? The answer, my friends, is quite simple. Jim Hendry is totally done here.  I’m not quite sure what new Cubs’ owner Tom Ricketts has in store for Mr. Hendry, but it’s pretty clear that I’d rather have the GM from Lou Malnati’s running my baseball team. This guy has set the Cubs up for more problems down the road and, as is the reality, has nobody to blame but himself.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that has attended a “jam band” concert that the majority of these concert goers are perpetually done here. You may have been offered a wide range of illicit substances by the aging hippie who refuses to believe that  Billy Nershi is not Jerry Garcia. Or, you may have connected with a sparkling blue eyed brunette, only to discover that she recently ingested half an eighth of mushrooms and “thinks your energy is really vibrant.” These buddies, while definitely done here, can’t be faulted for giving into the power of something greater than themselves. Let us take note of the buddy who represents the tip of the proverbial iceberg.  I present: the “setlist recorder.” Now, the “setlist recorder” has a Vishnu like quality of manifesting itself in different physical appearances at different points in time (i.e. my near and dear friend Ben Jacobs circa ’99). Nevertheless, there is one  specific attribute  possessed by the “setlist recorder” that certifies his being done here. He or she actually brings an illuminated pen and pad of paper to the concert for which the setlist can be recorded. Given the fact that setlists are readily available on the internet the day after a concert is performed, there is no reason whatsoever  to perform such an act. While I definitely appreciate Julia of the Helping Phriendly Book informing me that Trey pissed his pants during the 35 minute “Silent Jam” at Tinley Park, IL 2001, there is really no place for such behavior in today’s technologically oriented world.

This Guy Is So Done Here, Buddy

The next time that you prepare to go to a PHISH concert and think about grabbing that pen and pad, please remember that: You’re Done Here, Buddy.