Friday, September 30, 2011

Xmastime Likes


Christ. They Fucking Got Me.

Hey, I'm not made of stone, people. (looking for puppy to punch.)

ARLINGTON, Texas -- Cooper Stone, the 6-year-old son of Shannon Stone, who died following injuries suffered in a fall at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington on July 7, threw a strike to Josh Hamilton in the ceremonial first pitch before Friday's ALDS Game 1.

Cooper, a left-hander, walked to the mound with his mother, Jenny, and Rangers CEO and Hall of Famer Nolan Ryan. Cooper stepped on the rubber and Hamilton came halfway out between home and the mound to catch the ball. He gave Cooper a hug, gave Jenny Stone a hug and said something to her for about 30 seconds or so before hugging her again. The sellout crowd cheered the entire time.

Taylor Armstrong Gets It

I’m putting this down in black & white too: not now, nor will I ever proclaim that I want my wife to get remarried. If she starts throwing out that garbage “Oh Xmastime would want me to move on and be happy” SHE’S LYING!! DON’T BELIEVE HER!!! I’m looking to assign someone the job of making sure she visits the cemetery at least once a week and hurls herself on my grave wailing uncontrollably for an hour or so. Let me know who’s up for that one.- XMASTIME
I've never watched a minute of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, but I will say, that Taylor Armstrong knows how to handle herself at her husband's funeral: physically incapable of walking.  Cap doffed.

Hmm. Perhaps I've Misunderstood What This Book Series Is About.

Wall Street Protests

I'm all for people protesting.  And I'm with them in spirit and prolly agree with everything they're saying if I'd bother to find out between readings of Garfield at Large and Garfield Fucks Like a Pig, but I can't say I'm optimistic of them achieving anything.  The president and Congress can't do anything to control Wall Street, so I can't imagine a buncha wanna-be hippies will.  But hey, godspeed - I'll cheer you on while watching you on my 105-inch flatscreen!

Xmastime Confessions

Just like when people are asked for their most embarrassing moment and use it to still look cool by saying something like "when I tripped over Paul McCartney's foot when receiving an award for Most Handsome Man on Earth" instead of the truth like "cannot read or write," it comes to mind I should be using these confessions as a backhanded way of looking cool.  Such as, instead of confessing to once running over a dog and not even stopping, I should "be embarrassed" about having a three-way with a coupla college freshmen sorority sisters.  Twins, even.


A girl I work with mentioned that before her kid started 5th grade the school asked for a list of his strengths and weaknesses.  I'd love to see such a list from my mom.  I'm guessing it would go something like this.

WEAKNESSES: Not as smart as his brother.  Or even close.  Daydreams all day like a goddam fairy.  Spends way too much time in the bathroom.  Laziest white kid I've ever seen.  Plays with his nuts all goddam day.

STRENGTHS: Will let you know when I see one.

Fuckitty Fuck Fuck

Starting with Alyssa from Thinkprogress, people have been wondering why you can't say "fuck" on regular tv, but can call women "bitches" with unrestrained  glee.  Personally I wouldn't be offended, a well-delivered "fuck" can make something way funnier than it was, and a bleep is better than nothing, although I can understand why the word would be off-putting to some.  Although I agree that we've become numbed to the word "bitch" at this point.  It reminds me of the absurdity that you can say "nigger" on tv, but not "goddammit."

The Naughties

I listed my best songs of the 00's list HERE, and here's a site with the Top 100.  I don't really have anything to say about it other than I've been cracking up thinking about the next time a lady is about to pleasure me orally, saying to her "now sup on mine balls, wench!"

Sigh. Fun being me!


Apparently the FDA is looking to lower the amount of salt in processed foods, which of course FOX News is taking as yet another fascist assault on freedom and Jesus.  Of course.  Seriously, at this point I wish Obama would say "yes, if you try to eat salt I personally am going to break into your house and ass-rape your kids in front of you while screaming the words to Shout at the Devil at pictures of Jesus and his scrappy, lovable sidekick Baby Jesus."

Baby Showers

For the second straight week, there was a surprise baby shower in my office, and for the second straight week when the honoree, upon being greeted with SURPRISE!!! shouts, didn’t have the wits to suddenly clutch her belly and yell “oh my god, my water broke!!”

Sigh.  Camon, people.  When Mamalizza was pregnant with Cherry Bomb, she couldn't go 3 minutes without doing that, because it's called COMEDY GOLD!! - XMASTIME
Xmastime buddy The Girl Who lists 7 Things NOT To Do At Your Baby Shower; besides the inane games that exactly nobody has remotely enjoyed in the history of baby showers, I've always found the fucking having to open presents in front of everybody to be agonizing, watching the mother-to-be hafta do an over-the-top "OHMYGODTHISISAWESOME!!" with every box she opens that has whatever someone randomly grabbed at the drugstore on the way to the fucking shower.  And then the person who gave it has to pretend to give a shit about whatever it is.  Brutal.  Unless she makes a point of announcing how each gift is a disappointment one by one, just fucking open them after everyone's guzzled all the booze you can't drink in front of you, for fuck's sake.

JERRY: Explain to me how this baby shower thing works.
ELAINE: What do you wanna know?
JERRY: Well, I mean, does it ever erupt into a drunken orgy of violence?
ELAINE: Rarely.
JERRY: There's no hazing of the fetus, or anything, is there?

YES, Girls...

...I can smell your asses.  Fucking christ.

Punishing Success. Thanks, Obama!!!!

Sixth-grade football player is so dominant they're making up rules to slow him down.  IE, my old problem.

Xmastime Confessions

The other day, Mike from the Best Show asked me to read the Bible so we could do podcasts after each book, and the first thing I thought was "oh man, I'd LOVE to hear what I think about the Bible."  In my defense, I was simultaneously thinking "do you fucking hear yourself? good lord you're fucking insufferable."

Ugh.  Thank god I'm handsome, or nobody would be able to stand me.

Xmastime Confessions

Nowadays, if a girl smiles in my general direction, I push a button and a priest pops out of the ground and immediately marries us and I stuff her in a hot-air balloon which takes us to an island where I will spend every minute of the rest of our lives worshipping her and loving her.

But it wasn't always that time I was fooling around with some girl, a girl I had already been with a coupla times. She was blowing me, then I started eating her out, which I knew meant we'd be fucking in a matter of minute(s). But I had been on a bit of a tear that week, and wasn't really into it, but I didn't have the balls to simply say so to her, so I instead quickly crafted an idea to make her feel that something was wrong with her medically. Very mature, I know.

"What the -"
"What?" (alarmed)
"Something's not right down here..."
"WHAT??!" (sharply pulling back legs)
"Yeah, looks like something funny in there."
"Looks like little square pieces of pork. Cooked white pork."
(Sprints out horrified, I grab the remote, pat self on the back.)

Not satisfied with horrifying her about possible health problems there, I made sure to insert (pun intended) a word associated with pigs. Hmm.

NEW SERIES: Xmastime Confessions

I spent much of the first month of the first grade baffled at how the teacher was able to staple stuff on the bulletin board, before realizing the stapler could be opened up.

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Anyone Else Think the Answer Was Gonna Be "He's Black"?

Oh, For Fuck's Sake

At least I'm smart enough to do it kicking and screaming, but I find I'm fucking getting hooked on the godawful The Big Bang Theory.  Nobody ever says anything funny and I can't decide if I'm into the blonde or not, and here we are.  Fucking a.

Still crushing on Blossom after all these years, though.


I agree everything THIS GIRL SAYS, and have touched upon the joy of collective experience myself HERE, but anytime I see articles moaning things aren't like the old days, my spidey senses tingle and I think that's exactly what people said in the old days.  After all, when Born to Run came out Lester Bangs noted that rock and roll no longer had a center, and that was back in 1975, so.  Also, I'm very comfortable with being old enough to be left behind in pop cultures wake anyway, and have been since at least 2006.

Mrs. Xmastime Update

I am about one week away from down-shifting from "my soul mate, true love" to "woman who listens to me watch tv."

State de Moi

Another step in my determination to make big life changes is my finally trashing this picture of Mrs. Judith Light-Xmastime from my desktop after two years.  I'm amazing!



Yes, ladies, THAT Rrthur.

Here he is looking like a fucking queer:

My memories with Rrthur:

1) Almost kissed at a Steve Wynn concert

2) Once spent $21 at a Wendy’s in Queens

3) Stole 2 diet Cokes at Staples – zing! Fuck you, corporate America!!!

4) One time I was over at his house and he was defrosting the freezer. I’m watching the game, not paying attention, whatever. Then he says hey, come here for a second and I walk in and he’s pointing to the sink. I look, and there was some soft, melting chocolate ice cream sitting in the sink. As I’m looking at it, the waft of noxious Rrthur-gas hits my nostrils and all at once, two of my senses are taken over as my brain registers a fart smell with the sight of a pile of soft brown glop in the sink. I can still picture what he was wearing, as well as I can still fell the blood-curlding retching/dry-heaving my body went through. I find it hard to believe he will ever top this moment, and were it up to me this paragraph would go on his tombstone.

5) In case you missed the post a while back, he shit his pants in the 5th grade. I wasn’t there, but I love telling that story. Hell, I don’t even care if it’s true WHICH IT MOST DEFINITELY IS!!!!!!!!!!!!

6) Rrthur's old band once played my fraternity in college. They played it super-cool and waited til 11:30 to start playing. Of course 5 minutes before midnite the place emptied so that people could go get more beer before the midnite cutoff, never to return. Divas. Then he stayed over in my girlfriend’s room, and in the morning used a complete stranger’s razor to shave his face and ended up getting some weird rash. I hate shaving anyways, I certainly don’t understand why he felt such an urgency to shave that appropriating a stranger’s razor was necessary. Maybe on a Sunday morning, after driving 400 miles and playing a rock show and staying up all night drinking he had a job interview? Hmm.

7) The first time I visited Rrthur after he moved to NYC, I get here as a freshly-scrubbed farmboy, never been in a city before, and as I’m walking in he says “Well, I’m gone for the weekend. Have fun! Oh, and the toilet’s broken.” Thanks asshole. I got back at him by not having sex with the over-the-top hot girl that I brought with me. Fuck you, corporate America!!!!!!!!!

8) Rrthur is the cousin of my first girlfriend in high school. I can’t say he had anything to do with our breaking up and my heart getting crushed to bits, but I also don’t think that summer when he decided to teach her how to French-kiss really helped me out either.


Shaved in a different order this morning.  So, it's prolly gonna be an amazing day.

Fuck the Red Sox (But Let's Not Forget Fuck the Mets Too)

It's insane that you can play 162 games and still the entire season for a handful of teams comes down to the final moment as it did last night.  I didn't get too wrapped up in the irony of the Yankees having a hand in whether or not the Red Sox made the postseason; first because I always feel lucky for the Yankees to make it to the postseason and would consider it bad luck to over-reach by also wanting to keep another team out, and secondly because I wasn't ready for the Mets to be able to relinquish the title of "Worst Chokers in the History of Baseball."  But it really couldn't have worked out better, the way the Yankees teased the Sox with a huge lead and then slowly giving it away in extra innings while Papelbon shit the bed on the mound at Camden.  Fuck Papelbon.

The silver lining for Sox fans is that after spending an uncomfortable 7 years having won 2 World Series, now they can go back to being crybabies wrapped up in their quilt of claims of being "cursed" and "snakepit" et al.  They're much more comfortable being the Sarah Palin of MLB than winners, so I suspect chowderheads slept well last night.

Then again, fuck 'em; how many more fucking times do we hafta hear about the Sox being made up of noble, scrappy warriors! as opposed to the Yankees' giant, non-hustling robots, and how unfair it is that the Yankees have such a large payroll, since of course the Sox have no money at all, but pick up players off the street who darn it, just wanna play the game "the right way."  The Red Sox' fans are an embodiment of the old joke:

"How does a white guy steal second base?" Sheer grit, determination and knowledge of the pitcher.
"How does a black guy steal second base?" He's fast.

Fuck 'em.  Ironically, before the season there was an air of Sox fans being miffed they would even have to go through the charade of playing a regular season, just as the Mets fans did the season of the grand collapse.  FUCK THEM.

In America

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Xmastime Video Podcast I

I Hear Words I've Never Heard in the Bible

Apparently I'm in my "Simon & Garfunkel" Stage of Life, so....well, I guess you're all caught up with me.

Well, Well, Well.

This sexy chicken photo has been the talk of the town, even garnering an entire article about it in the New York Times.  Of course, all this is yet another motherfucker banking mad $crillah off something Xmastime's already done, a lá CHICKEN PORN.

I'm fucking suing everybody from now on.

(If you like my paranoid bits, check out the greatest riff ever on radio, Tom Scharpling's classic turn as Chubby Checker insisting grunge ripped him off.  Killer.)

Oh, Fuck 'em.

I picked The Short Bus up from school this afternoon, and the way they do it is they line the kids up class by class and walk them out in front of a long fence.  I felt like I was at a slave auction.  Unfortunately, my "So, who gets the first pick?" joke got no laughs from the other adults waiting for their kid.  So.

Goals. I Have Them.

Before midnight I'd like to label an event as "________apalooza."


What the He'll Did You People Do Before I Came Around?

A few years ago on a list of what I'd rather be doing than watch Madonna at the Grammy's was
6. Draft a letter to all the blind people in the city asking them who picks up the shit from their seeing-eye dogs
Looks like the people over at Mental Floss are Xmastime fanatics, as they've gone and found out. Fucking nerds.

Very Normal Things That Happen In Airport Men's Rooms

Talking to a girl this morning (I believe we all know what that means, heh heh heh), I was reminded of when I flew The Short Bus down to Virginia two years ago. While at the airport I had to piss so I brought him into the bathroom, and since it was an airport and kids are abducted every 5 seconds at them I told him to stand beside me and hold onto my jeans while I pissed.  Him being a 3 year-old boy, of course he's obsessed with "pee-pees." I'm doing my thing, looking down and obviously thinking "YOU, sir, are the bee's knees!", when out of the corner of my eye I see a little head snaking into sight.

"YES, Rats!" he shouted in proud triumph, breaking away and jumping with a fist in the air, "you got a BIG pee-pee!!!"

Of course he never brings this up when chicks are around. Only the men's room at the airport. Sigh.

If You Don't Pat Yourself on the Back, Nobody Will

Dude points out HERE that the Post Office "crisis" is one created by Congress that can be easily avoided.

Looks like everyone's catching on to what I wrote wrote almost three years ago about companies taking advantage of bad economic times to dump their payrolls even if it's not necessary.  Of course, the post office being filled with evil, socialist public workers makes it different I suppose.

Also today HERE Yglesias points out that lenders should be blamed when things go tits up, not the borrower, since "When bankers sit down with borrowers to discuss loans, it’s the lender who’s putting himself forward as a highly trained highly compensated expert in the field of lending money. If it goes bad, it’s because the allegedly expert lender has turned out to be bad at his job."

Which is the same thing I wrote HERE two and a half years ago.

Sigh.  Sometimes I wish I was as handsome as I am brilliant.  "But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “You ARE that handsome!!!"

I know I know, but I'm trying to pull off looking humble here.  And it's not easy.

Sometimes I Wonder QWhy I Don't Have a Girlfriend

Everybody is aware of my online food porn fetish; I spend way too much time Googling food or raking over food sites like A Hamburger Today.  But with Foodtown laying out prepared meals for one, I find myself going over there to look at them, whether or not I intend on buying one.  I feel like I've made the step from gawking at the Sears catalog to visiting peep shows.  What's next?

Of course, I feel like Foodtown is already on to me...

Seems Sincere.

Diet Update

Two pounds down this week.  Not my goal, but in my defense I was on a mini-vacation this weekend, so I'm fairly happy.  Slowly but surely, bitches!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Hot or Not?

I can't decide whether or not the chick from whatever that show about the nerds is is hot or not.  First of all, STOP WATCHING THE SHOW!!!  Secondly, of course it's not like I'd come upon her (heh heh heh) and kick her outta bed for eating crackers, but she seems to go minute-by-minute when it comes to hot/not.  Just as I'm ready to finally submit my ballot, I'll think there's something off about her - her torso is too long, her arms too short; something.  I don't wanna get all Seinfled/Costanza here, but it's weird.

Coming Along Right On Schedule

My name just took another step towards being synonymous with "genius", since it turns out Albert Einstein was a fucking idiot.

Tough shit, poindexter!

Goals. I Have Them.

I wanna write a book so I can have the book club I'm in read it and then lord over them with over-the-top haughty condescension.  "Oh, you...DIDN'T know the dog was symbolic of man's reach across the abyss of sin? Really? REALLY? (cupping hands over mouth) ARE...YOU...AN...IDIOT?"

Pic du Jour

The Best of Frasier Crane

Another scene in movies I'm declaring a moratorium on is the courtroom scene where as the lawyer (main character) is speaking to the jury (even better if it's his dramatic closing statements), and the door opens and in walks his wife/partner/assistant who in a previous scene had stormed out in a huff, furious at the lawyer for being foolish enough to take the case, yada yada. Lawyer pauses, locks eyes with person, slightly smiles and then goes on talking. Is there a law that a movie featuring a lawyer has to include this scene? Yes, I'm sure this happens in real courtrooms ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

The Best of Frasier Crane

I am now taking applications to find a woman to accompany me to nice restaurants. Halfway through our meal I will pretend to propose marriage, wherein the ensuing emotion and excitement of your squealing and crying from sheer joy will touch the staff's heartstrings to the tune of us getting our expensive meal for, ta-da...FREE!

The Best of Frasier Crane

I read in the paper today that the CIA has plotted to kill Castro 638 times. 638? They've tried and failed to kill him 638 times? are you shitting ME? Who the fuck has been running this operation?

The Best of Frasier Crane

I almost sprained my neck walking around last night; there are way too many smoking hot chicks in my neighborhood, and with each one I of course spin my head around after she’s passed to get a shot of them flanks a’ quakin. I am only a man, people. But one girl busted me, turning around to catch me leering at her and gave me a none-too-pleased look. Shamed mightily I continued on, but the oncoming rush of hot chicks was too much. Luckily I quickly came up with a brainstorm of genius…now that I have glasses, I can actually see these women from yards away, unlike the old days where I hafta wait til they’re right in front of me and then bionic-squint in their faces, scaring them before quickly spinning around to get my ass-shot in. Very subtle. Now, I can see them from farther away, I can take a minute to soak in their face and body from the front. "MMmmm, very nice" I might say to myself. THEN. When she’s a bit in front of you still, THEN spin your head around, act as if you’re looking at something behind you. Then she walks by, and even if she turns back around and sees you staring, she thinks you’re looking at something else, since you had your head turned when she passed. TA-DA!! Now you’re free to soak in her backdoor delights. You’re welcome!!

Of course, as I’m typing this I don’t know what I really expect to do once I lock in on her rear beef, it’s not like I’m gonna fall to the sidewalk, whip my dick out and start “directing traffic”, know what I mean? And it’s not like I’m gonna commit her to memory, cause they’ll be another one in about 30 seconds anyways. But hey…we can always commit ourselves to learn more and strive for greatness, can’t we?

The Best of Frasier Crane

Lies I Told a Blonde Chick from Wisconsin at Union Pool Last Night

1) I served as Attorney General of Wisconsin
2) For 2 terms
3) I popularized the expression "squeeze me!" while trying to get thru a crowd
4) I also invented the ol' "wait til person is about to open passenger side door then move the car up 3 feet, then repeat" routine
5) I lost the part of Ricky Shroeder's best friend to Jason Bateman "because of his cocksucker uncle" (stare off into space, lost in anger for 8 seconds)
6) I can't BELIEVE I'm 26; that's way too old!

Success? Cheerio!

The Best of Frasier Crane

The next thing on my to-do list is to show up at subway platforms and stare in the wrong direction for the train. Ever see anyone do this? Doesn't it drive you bananas? At any given moment there's 10 or 15 people staring intensely down the tracks into the tunnel; I'm gonna stare right back in their direction, looking annoyed "where the fuck is this train??!!!" One, they'll start getting pissed cause it's some dude looking in their face. Then they start thinking doesn't this dude know which way the fucking train comes? Then they're really pissed and think doesn't this dude see that everybody else is staring in the other direction??!! And me, staring, shaking my head "where the fuck is this train?" just as their heads fucking explode into a thousand pieces.

The Best of Frasier Crane

I'm pretty sure I'll never hafta go through any of the ol' "scared of the girlfriend's father" nonsense in this lifetime. I'm in my mid-late 30's and let's face it - when I get my fer-shizzle together I'll definitely be the king of the beach, so I'll  be tapping some 24 or 25 year old ass, which would make her father about 6 or 7 years older than me. I'm sorry, but I'm not doing the respectful, you're so scary routine with some fuckwad who just barely remembers Kristy McNichol having a career more than myself.

"Xmastime, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"Yeah, cool, Ron."
"Um...that's Mr. Clayton to you, Xmas."
"Yeah...hey Ronny does her mother queef as much as this one? Fucking christ." (feet on table, spitting out lone sunflower seed)

The Best of Frasier Crane

I know I'll probably never be a real adult cause I'm in my thirties and I have never bought a light bulb. Not once. Who the fuck does? Who thinks "you know what, I should go buy some light bulbs"? To me it's an endless series of rotation - oh my lamp's out, switch it out with a lamp in the living room, swing the one in the bathroom over to the living room and on and on and on. I don't know how, but after all these years I've never run out of light bulbs. I guess one day I will, I'll all of a sudden be sitting in the dark and think "well....that's it I guess" and then blow my fucking brains out.

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What is it with dudes who commit suicide killing their girlfriends first?  Can't you be a gentleman about the whole thing, and just kill yourself? I suppose the thinking is "This way we'll be together in heaven."  Hmm. If you do meet up in heaven, do you really think this girl is gonna wanna be with you after you've pumped her full of lead? "Oh HELL no..."  And let's face it - if you're in heaven, doesn't that mean now you're competing with every dude who has ever died? Now you're up against some of the all-time greats; instead of competing against the fucking fry cooks at TGIFridays, you've got Sam Cooke sending over bottles of wine while the smooth sounds of You Send Me glide out of Heaven's stereo.  You were lucky she picked you over your dumbass buddies, now you're totally fucked. Camon. And don't think you're gonna do well with the beautiful ladies of the past, since now you're just the asshole who shot his young girlfriend 8 times. Princess Di might not be interested in you after hearing this. That might be the all-time bad dating story: you've killed yourself and your girlfriend so you can be together in the afterlife, but when you get there she gives you the "I think we should see other people..." speech. Ouch!  So think it through next time, fellas. If you think you can compete against Valentino, Chamberlain, Presley et al, go ahead and kill her. Otherwise, do the right thing and leave her alone before you blow your own brains out.

The Best of Frasier Crane

Does anyone know where the word “shampoo” came from? According to the dictionary, it’s meaning is “Any of various liquid or cream preparations of soap or detergent used to wash the hair and scalp.” From this I would expect a soft, clean word. But when you break down “shampoo”, I see sham, which means trick, therein lending itself to “tricky”. And the second half of it is another word for “shit.” So basically the word means “tricky shit”, which is ironic cuz shampoo is the gold standard for simplicity: rinse, lather, repeat. Hmm.

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The other day I walked by a magazine stand and there was a Penthouse with Jenna Jameson on the cover with the headline “Jenna…as You’ve NEVER Seen Her Before!!” I’m like, what does that mean? Jenna fully dressed in a library reading to children? Jenna in a nice pantsuit watching the game? OHHH, wait, it’s Jenna getting drilled by 2 dudes with her face in a doggy dish. Hmm. Sorry, but yes, we have seen this before.

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One thing I do in restaurants that I really need to stop doing is physically pointing out what I’ve ordered from the menu to the waitress. And you know me, I always get a fucking cheeseburger, but when the waitress looks at me I always hold up the menu and point to the listing “Yeah, I’ll have the cheeseburger deluxe…with fries…” as if I’m the first person ordering a cheeseburger. And then I hear myself reminding the poor woman that “deluxe” means “with fries”, cause I’m sure she’s spent most of the day serving people sliced-almond framboise with snow peas and cranberry moo goo gai pan and my order of a cheeseburger with fries is gonna throw the kitchen for a curve. I’m waiting for a waitress to grab the menu and look perplexed “The wha? What the…well. I’ll see if Tony can make this.” I’m such an idiot.

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My personality test results here. Was really hoping I’d hit “Submit” and it would come back with “You’re Awesome!” or “Denzel –is that you??!?!!” I don’t know what any of it means, but apparently I’m a mix of Sally Struthers, Danny Glover and Donald Duck. I’m fat, too old for this shit and don’t wear pants. In other words, these tests are fucking dead-on. Wow.

The Best of Frasier Crane

Halloween has come to mean getting shit-faced and hitting on chicks in their drawers pretending to be a squirrel. Can we get an official number of women that were "horrified" by Monica Lewinsky yet snapped their cankles in half sprinting to dress up as her for Halloween? And does anyone know anyone who knows anyone who actually got a razor in an apple? Seems like if anyone pulled that on a kid he'd get busted - seriously, if some asshole tried to pass an apple off on you during trick or treating, you'd fucking remember who it was, no? And what kid came home, dumped out his bag of candy on the table and immediately reached over the piles of Snickers and candy corn to shove an APPLE into his mouth? Who's this Poindexter? I would think you'd eventually SEE a razor since by the time you had gorged on your loot the damn thing woulda rotted away. "Oh look, there's a razor in the apple that's been sitting there for two weeks."

I went as "The 7-Up Dot" every year of college - I believe the axiom is "Don't fix what ain't broke, especially if it's directly responsible for a blowjob in the bathroom." And I will make a point to remember to use "Poindexter" more in the future!

The Best of Frasier Crane

One thing I need to be more aware of is what channel is on the tv when I go to sleep. Most nights, as I'm drifting off I watch a lil' Nick at Nite, be it Rosanne or The Cosby Show, whatever. I've noticed what happens is the next morning when I get up and turn on the tube,  because it'snow  morning it's back to being a little kids channel. Nickelodeon. That's not gonna work - what if, let's take a walk through dreamworld for a second, I have a lady friend stay over-night? Maybe she wakes up before I do, maybe she never got to fall asleep thanks to her absurd, bordering on medically dangerous orgasms not subsiding and she flips on the tv. So now she's like "what the...I just fucked a dude who watches Rugrats? oh, HELL no!" and she'll never be on board for a booty call again. Or, god forbid, I die in bed. Cops etc come to get me, you know how it is, lottsa standing around, one of em prolly flips on the tv. "This stiff watched Spongebob Squarepants? Queer!!!" I can't get a little dignity on my deathbed, even? Bad enough when they find my porn. And by "find" I mean "walk into my room."

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What's worse:
a) Realizing you might like someone (yes, "like like") after not realizing it for a long time, and only coming upon this realization once it's too late,


b) Being depressed after said realization and thinking you can pick up your spirits by having what you have found to be the greatest croissant you have ever had, only to go to the store to get this pain for your pain (le rim shot) and TA-DA!....they're all out


c) Stuffing the last of your sunflower seeds into your mouth and then sneezing.

Sigh. Quote a fucking life I'm putting together here.

The Best of Frasier Crane

Playing with the boy earlier, with his collection of toys that all insist on making animal noises, I started thinking "is a frog the only animal whose signature noise (ribbit) is one letter away from being another animal (rabbit)?" Then of course I thought of a dog saying woof is one letter off of wolf, so that's that.

Then I started thinking wouldn't it be funny to have a website where people can send in pictures of themselves pretending to have sex with their pets? Not REALLY having sex, of course. Something like holding the dog's head in your crotch, looking like she's blowing you. Or holding a kitten and pretending you're fucking it from behind. Seriously, cracking me up right now. Dying.

The Best of Frasier Crane

As one would ascertain from previous postings on this site, my father was a no-nonsense guy. From the old school of “children are meant to be seen working, not heard”, his favorite pastime was “let’s see if I can come up with something ridiculously menial for the boys to do in the baking heat for a few hours.” The only thing that would save you from being sent outside to work was if you were reading a book. If on one of his search and destroy missions looking for my brother and me you had your face deep in a book and looked like you were so engrossed in reading he could walk up and kick you in the nuts you wouldn’t notice, he’d leave you alone and you were safe for another day. (I’m particularly proud of my single masterstroke as a young buck: convincing my dad that somehow, defying the laws of science, I actually read BETTER if accompanied by a radio that was blaring, in his words, “jungle music.” I guess when you played the bugle in the Marines, everything that’s not Reville is “jungle music.” I still don’t know how I convinced him of this – “I don’t know Dad, somehow I just retain more if the radio’s on; weird, I know!”...meanwhile I’m on page 7 of ‘Then Again, Maybe I Won’t” for 6 weeks; don’t matter anyways cause I’m holding the thing upside down while rocking out to Extra 104.1 outta La Plata/Waldorf.) But if you were doing anything else, like watching tv, or writing the episode of The Brady Bunch where Mike finally snaps at Alice "well guess what, you're NOT a member of this family, so shut the fuck up and carry your fat ass outta my face, bitch!", you were sent outside to work. Now, the funny thing about whenever my dad would give us shit to do is that NO MATTER WHAT, you were gonna do the job twice. The first time he’d check our work, no good. Need to do it again. Then after he’d come out again, THEN the job is done. "Good job boys!" My brother and I painted the exterior of our house 3 times, and every room on the inside about 5 times when we were young. Every single time, my dad would give us a speech that you know, if we did an incredible job the first coat, it wouldn’t even need a second coat. After being duped by this several times, my brother and I learned that we could fly in the US Olympic Bedroom Painting Team and when the first inspection came, it would still fail. “Nope, sorry...gonna need another coat. Get to work.” And of course for the second coat we could spray paint “I Fuck Cats” all over the walls, and then he’d come in and say we were done, good job, see what you can accomplish when you work hard etc etc etc....

My favorite “keep the boys busy and out of learning about German shit-porn, even the really artistically done stuff” job was always shifting gravel in the driveway to “even it out.” This is a job I’ve since asked around about, and no one I know has ever heard of doing this. It usually went like this:

11:20am – my brother and I sent outside with 2 rakes, told to shift the gravel around, even out the driveway.
11:34am – we’re still standing in the driveway, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. Flick some gravel around with our rakes, stand around.
11:35am - take the top off the well, see how deep down it is til there’s water by spitting into it and listening for spit to hit water.
11:41am – remember that’s where our drinking water comes from.
11:56am – finish spitting into well. "Sounds like 15 feet deep? Why is Neil Diamond here?"
12:01pm – toss around theory that our father controls the heat of the sun by sending us outside to work. Decide it’s unlikely, that if he had such power over the universe, we’d probably have a riding lawn mower. (Which, incidentally, my dad finally bought the day I left for college. Now that my 12-year career of cutting grass with a 200-lb push mower with square wheels was over, I can see him thinking "hey, this is a good time to get that riding mower Xmastime has been crying about since 1978." aaaarrrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!)
12:03pm - 90 second fight of the century: I turn blind with rage, my upper teeth dig into my bottom lip and I leap at my brother, promising death as my fists rain Hell down upon him like Satan’s dogs released from their pen of hell-fire. This time, I’m not letting up. No gov'na!!
12:04pm – my Fists from Hell didn’t get the memo re: “no letting up.”
12:05pm – the tide is turning. This might not end well for me.
Still 12:05pm – my shirt is in ribbons and hanging from a tree.
Still 12:05pm – I am covered in dirt with gravel sticking all over my body and can barely breathe or see through the tears building up that I’m desperately trying to hold back, little bird-chest heaving with crazed emotion. Toughskins bloodied all over. Then I see I scuffed my brother’s precious fucking Converse Weapons. Ha! Not a crushing defeat, but I’ll take it - a W is a W.
12:07pm – Flicking gravel around. Ask him what 5th grade is like. Lot tougher than 4th?
12:09pm – brother has realized I scuffed his shoes. Let’s skip ahead to “does not end well for Xmastime.”
12:20pm – Dad comes out for inspection. Ruefully shakes head. What do you know; no good, need to keep working. Hmm.

And on and on. The second hour outside would be mostly a combination of 1) my brother explaining to me what an idiot I am 2) my little sister stepping out for a minute to complain about how chilly it was inside with the a/c pumping and how it’s affected the keg of Rice Krispie Treats and 3) broad jump competition. Finally after an hour our dad would come out and give us his “see, if you work hard and do it the right way and come up with the definitive search engine for the internet, you will succeed” speech. Every time. Looking back of course it was all for our benefit; learning to work hard, getting fresh air/exercise et al. Or else he was running a Russian fuck-pig operation outta underground tunnels from inside the house; either way, I don't know. I'm not a doctor.

The Best of Frasier Crane

Whats up with those buttons at intersections, that basically say “push button to stop traffic”? Seems like we’re trying to play God here, no?  I need to show 4 forms of i.d. and a color copy of my DNA helix to get a membership at the video store, yet the city somehow trusts me with handling traffic? Really? Maybe I can hit JFK and land some planes too?

Which reminds me. Grocery stores: what happened to your bag boys? What the fuck, now I find myself having to fucking bag my own shit? And it’s always that awkwardness; I’ll fumble with my money extra long so that the cashier will finally decide to do it. Cause you feel like an asshole just standing there until she finally does; people behind you sighing and rolling their eyes. I’ll time it til she starts it, feign starting to reach for a bag “oh, you got it, okay.”  I don’t wanna fucking bag, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m putting the milk and croutons in the same bag with my Over-Sized Specially Made I Hope She’s a Horse Hefty Bag Condoms; can someone else fucking help me please?

Paper or plastic. Pack the shit up in your foreskin, I don’t give a shit, just fucking do it for fucksakes.

The Best of Frasier Crane

I don't think I could be a cop cause I don't wanna be putting my hands on the dude's head as I'm putting him in the squad car. He's a criminal; I doubt he's spent a lot of time treating his hair to the most effective cleansing agents in the world recently. And why do they do this anyway? All I ever heard from my mother growing up was "will you just get in the goddam car!?!?!" But a cop, after chasing you down, tackling you and beating you with a stick will oh-so-carefully escort you into the car, delicately making sure your precious head doesn't, god forbid, bump the top of the door. Whack.

The Best of Frasier Crane

The other day a friend of mine said "I know you better than anyone else."  What does she mean? Does she mean she knows me better than she knows any other person, or that she knows me better than anyone else knows me?

Women, eh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em, can't masturbate without thinking of one of them shitting in a bucket. Ah well.

The Best of Frasier Crane

Popcorn and pubic hairs: two distinctly different things, yet they sure have the same effect when they're stuck in the back of your throat, don't they?

The Best of Frasier Crane

How much must cranberries suck? I just came across a bag of Craisins. Sweetened dried cranberries. But being a cranberry isn't enough, so they've sucked all the moisture out to make them raisins. Cause yeah, nothing grates me more than when I bite into a piece of fruit and it's all juicy. Hmm. But they kicker is now that they've taken the cranberry and made it a raisin, it's still not enough; now they give it a whole different flavor altogether: orange. Orange. You get this? We've taken one fruit and made it the flavor of...another fruit. What the fuck. How does this even occur to somebody in the Craisin Labs? "You know, Dr. Fred, these cranberries are great and all but...seems like we should try to make it taste like a different fruit, no?" Is chicken-flavored turkey next? "Honey, I bought some new dick-flavored dental dams!!" Hey, what's been used less in history - clocks at a black church, or dental dams?

The Best of Frasier Crane

I've noticed that in the movies or on tv anytime a police car rings it's siren to pull a car over, it apparently never occurs to the driver to actually pull over and stop until the person in the passenger seat tells him to. It's either the panicky "dammit Ron, pull over!" or the exasperated, instructional "...greeeeeeat...goddammit...okay, okay, pull over..." Until then, the driver never even slows up. Are we to think that w/o the passenger speaking up, the driver would just keep going? BAFFLED at what to do now that there's a cop car with red lights flashing and a siren blaring? Interesting. And why are people always IN movies, but ON tv? Hmm.

The Best of Frasier Crane

As I've mentioned several times throughout this blog, my Dad was a no-nonsense kinda guy. He never pretended his role was to be my "buddy" or "pal;" his job was to put bread on the table and scare the hell out of us. Although he very rarely administered the beatings himself, I'm fairly certain that the reason I wasn't a huge troublemaker as a kid was the prospect of going home to him and having him literally kill me and bury me piece by piece under the shed out back. Handel's "Messiah" quietly playing while he shaves the skin off my bones in his easy chair as my mother serves him a bowl of butter pecan ice cream. Like the Fonz he never lost his temper or hit anyone, but he had that old-school air of well, maybe that could all change at any moment. And these were the "old days", ie if another adult plowed over me with a car my dad would yell at me for getting in the way of the car while refusing to bring me to the hospital.

So it always cracks me up on sitcoms when the father is a funny, goofy gentle sort, always kidding around with the kids and being silly, and one of the kids does something to get himself in trouble and we gotta go through the motions of "Dad's gonna kill me!!!!!" Siblings laughing, "wait til Dad get's home, you're DEAD!!" Really? I haven't seen this dad be mean once in all the seasons, he's usually always trying to be funny. You're really scared of this person? And then when you see the father find out, and the kid is cringing, awaiting the father to kill him...and the father starts cracking jokes et al. Now me, even to this day, if I fuck up and the person who should be pissed starts laughing instead of yelling, I enjoy this much better and indeed try to add as many laughs as possible. But on these sitcoms, the kids are required to act chagrined they're getting laughed at, acting pissed/embarrassed. Instead of "thank god, I'm gonna live!!" they almost challenge the father to punish them. Whack.

One of the worst offenders of this is my show of shows, "The Cosby Show." How many times did we hear "ooooooh, dad's gonna KILL you when he finds out!!!!" only to have Cliff stroll in, look serious, and then riff for 5 minutes at the kid's expense? Not once did my father do that; before being punished I was never treated to a few minutes of him warming up for his Catskills Tour. "...a D in geography, son? can you not locate your brain on a map?" (cue laugh track, bowl of butter pecan appears.)

Monday, September 26, 2011

Thoughts, Barely, by Xmastime

I just watched a KFC commercial wherein they turn their noses up at other fast food places' chicken nugget by snidely asking "just what part of the chicken is the nugget?"

Fair enough, I thought.  I mean, it IS true.

And then they're slapping themselves high fives by following with "we don't make chicken nuggets, we make POPCORN chicken!!", and yet at no point do they explain just what part of the chicken is the popcorn.


This Guy Gets It

You people know how I feel about Whitney Cummings, and this guy here agrees with me:
I for one think that maybe, just maaaybe, if Whitney fails, it won't be because "audiences aren’t ready for a rom-com sitcom centered around a good-looking female standup." It will be because Whitney isn't funny.

Jesus Warns Herman Cain He Just Fucked Up; "Lemme At Him!!!" His Lovable, Scrappy Sidekick Baby Jesus Screams While Being Restrained.


The other night HERE I mentioned the wisdom of RFK's use of the Golden Rule as being practical, not just some kumbaya/rainbows & puppies doctrine.  So of course now we see Dick Cheney not only is for the US using torture, but proud of his role in it.  Presumably, of course, because we have the moral high ground and Jesus and his loveable, scrappy sidekick Baby Jesus on our side, and so nobody else would EVER torture a US soldier.  Brilliant. - XMASTIME
In a surprise to exactly nobody who can breath out of their nose, it looks like our acting like assholes at Gitmo all these years is coming back to bite us in the ass.  If I wanted to I could roll me eyes and say well, I told you so, but in the coupla months since I wrote the above it's come to my attention that Jesus and his scrappy, lovable sidekick Baby Jesus actually DO root for America, so I'm curious to see what the two of them do to the Iranian guards who fucked with Americans.  Leprosy? Locusts?  Both, along with being forced to do Proud to Be an American karaoke ad infinitum?  Oh btw, that means "while waving your hands in the air like you just don't care" - it's called Latin, you fucking sand n----rs.  Heard of it?

On a side note, I am still curious about the music situation there now.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

If Bands...

...are gonna start poking around to see if their music was used for torture at Gitmo, can they start doing something about their music being used to assault people at bars who just wanna have a quiet drink? Please?

Time to Be a Patriot

If bands like Rage Against the Machine and Pearl Jam et al are upset about their music being used at Gitmo, I would like to graciously offer up the greatest band in the world, Hayday - for FREE!!

Use 'em to dance, torture, waterboard, whatevs!!! We just wanna help America!


Whitney Award du Hour; ie Show That's Just as Awful As I Thought It'd Be

Happy Birfday...PADDY MAC!!!!!!!

The kid turns the big 0-6 today.  Yes, those are liver spots on your legs.  Here he is making fun of his aunt  :)


Chuck Knoblach is following me on Twitter!!!  Presumably because of THIS.

Or, because the word is out that I'm amazing.  Either way, I finally have an "in" to get my baseball resume a look in the major leagues.  Hell, my first summer league game alone shoulda gotten me a tryout!

Porn, Pace, Some Guy Named Ted

3) While we’re on the subject of porn, I’d like to send a note out to all you “directors” out there: knock it off with these prolonged shots of dudes faces! What the fuck?!?!? I’m cruising along, watching a girl getting rammed from behind, enjoying myself, when BAM!! the camera cuts to a close-up of the guy’s face. Who is this for? And then they LEAVE IT THERE for like 20 seconds!!!!!!!!! Baffling. Do these people even understand the reason guys watch these flicks in the first place? It’s bad enough I’ve got my dick in my hand while another guy is even on the screen naked, but these facial close-ups? “OOOoh, look – Ted is enjoying himself! Great!” And there’s nothing worse than investing all that time and energy into it, and you’re about ready for the big payoff and then right as you have liftoff….close up to the guys face. Great. And yes, in case you’re wondering, that does in fact make you gay. - XMASTIME
The Daily What has some help re: "maintaining pace." Ha!

Thursday, September 22, 2011

GOP Determined Ignorance

Santorum's answer tonite re: "Obama is King George III" should've fallen flat with such a Founding Fathers Constitution-loving Tea Party audience who claim to be such lovers of history, but of course they went wild with applause since they're stupid, completely ignorant that the mass of Americans in 1776 were perfectly fine with George III save a handful of hyper-educated, Enlightenment-loving, God-doubting pretend farmers who believed in taxation, but not taxation without representation, ie. fascist-loving Obama.  In other words, gay French Euro-fags.  THAT's who you owe America to, not some bootstraps-wearing over-represented (really? Montana has the same voice as New York? REALLY?) farmers that can't fucking read, but Jesus loves.  Ignorance does not travel well.

My favorite Founding Father is Thomas Jefferson. Does ANYBODY think TJ would not be horrified by the current GOP's willful stupidity?

GOP Debate

Something I thought to note tonight is that the median age of the GOP candidates should they take office would be 62 (before you say it, the number should we remove Ron Paul is still 61.)

The president who reigned over the most peace and prosperity of the last century took office as a 46 year-old; meanwhile, any GOP nominee will be coming in 2nd place to Reagan in the "oldest fucker to take office" sweepstakes.

Meanwhile, Obama was born in 1961.  I think I'll take my chances with someone not baffled by tee-vee ("How can he be in that box talking, and yet be beside me??!?!?")


GOP Debatezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

How inane have these GOP "presidential debates" become when I can't even bother to watch them?  I mean, really, at first the unintentional comedy was great; now, it's just like the last 8 seasons of M*A*S*H: not funny, and seemingly longer than the Korean War itself.  It's just watching a handful of stupid people preach to a roomful of stupid people.  Even I, the great Xmastime, can't keep it interesting for two hours.  Wake me up when Romney's declared the nominee; until then, fucking christ.  Even I'M shocked at the stupidity and dullness, and that's saying something.

And why can't Gingrich do the right thing and show up rightfully smeared in chocolate?


I would never admit it because of my loyalty to Joe Strummer, and I've always claimed it was more of  a collection of pre-released singles than an "album", but Never Mind the Bullocks tops any Clash album.

I'd also never admit that one time I ran over a dog and didn't even stop.

Okay, I've admitted that repeatedly on Xmastime (and have been repaid QUITE handsomely lady-wise, heh heh heh) 

Loyalty. It's Important.

To everyone losing their shit over Facebook's big changes, I'd point out that Friendster hasn't changed in about 7 or 8 years, so.  That's what you get for jumping ship, assholes!

(btw, anyone got their newest AOL cd lying around I can install? $19.95/mo. and only only costing long-distance after 9pm? HELL-o?!???!!!))

Recent Xmastime Classixxx

It's already June and we haven't seen the release of this year's version of "white teacher comes to black school, is met with indifference and anger, refuses to give up on 'my kids, dammit!' and ends up inspiring them to heights they didn't know existed," which means maybe there's room in the market for my own spin on the genre.

We Like, We Like, We Like Ugly Women

A while back I wrote HERE about women having something called body dysmorphic disorder, AND NOW IT TURNS OUT THAT MRS. XMASTIME SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR FUCKING HAS IT:
"I totally have body dysmorphic disorder," she said. "I think most women do.
What? Where the fuck are these women?  Every woman I meet seems to have a VERY high image of herself?  Or is that she thinks she's hideous, but not hideous enough for me? Wtf?  Should I start dating animals?  As I said before, should I hire myself out to make these women feel better about themselves?  Ka-ching!

Chuck Knoblauch

I sympathized with Chuck Knoblauch when he was going through his throwing woes, as I had the yips myself for a time - when I was a catcher, my pretending to have something important to say to the pitcher so I could casually walk out to the mound between every pitch and hand him the ball instead of throwing the ball into center field was Oscar-worthy.  He was the leadoff hitter on my first Yankees team, 1998; every fucking game he would've scored, putting the Yankees up 1-0 before you could even settle into your chair to start watching.  Also, he's responsible for the greatest back-page headline of all time.

Interesting article here on him here.  I don't know what's more shocking: how removed from baseball he is, how much he's hated in Minnesota, that he retired 9 years ago, or that he's got a brother that's 6'5".

Knoblauch's now remembered mostly for his throwing yips, but he also had one of the smartest plays in the history of the World Series.

Lily Collins

Last December I noted that Phil Collin's daughter had turned out to be a pretty sweet piece HERE without being crass with some sort of "I Can Feel Me Cumming in Her Hair Tonight" crack (curtsy), and now she's heading a list of hit rock star daughters.

Quite a year for this young lady.

Freedom-Loving Christian Americans Distracted by Fall Lineup Premiering on NBC, Forget to Totally Lose Their Shit Over Opening of Park 51


Small collection of musicians re: R.E.M.'s effect on them.  The thing that jumps out to me is Bob Mould:
I spent many late nights hanging out with Peter Buck, witnessing his unbridled excitement as he played records I'd never heard.
I've read a million articles on R.E.M. and even a bunch of books about them, and every single person who has ever hung out with Pete Buck tells the exact same story of being treated to all-nighters of him excitedly playing 45 after 45 for them.

Also what I think is true HERE re why they mattered so much:
R.E.M. were more than just a band; they represented an aesthetic preference. In contrast to U2, the kings of secular sincerity, R.E.M. made themselves vulnerable in a very human way. They were a smart band who stood for substantial things and weren’t afraid to be totally, delightfully weird. The group’s stubborn unorthodoxy resonated with the  kids who didn’t fit in -- the ones who were too smart, too unconventional, too geeky, too philosophical, too artsy. Hardcore fans naturally gravitated toward one another: If you saw someone wearing an R.E.M. shirt, you just knew on a subconscious level you’d probably be friends.


This morning when I read Sully's posting of Levi claiming WIllow found Sniffy's pregnancy stick (heh heh heh) my spidey senses started tingling re: the absurdity of this happening at all, much less 7 months, and now a reader points it out:

Levi Johnston's comment about Willow finding a pregnancy test stick in the bedroom doesn't make any sense (surprise).  Even if the kids found out before the seven-month point, why would Palin keep the pregnancy test stick for a month, two months, or at all, much less in the bedroom?  And how does it remain secret until the seventh month, if Willow is telling everyone sooner than that?
I've warned Sully before about investing in the word of a teenager:
Andrew Sullivan needs to be a little more wary of placing his battle against Sarah Palin in the hands of a 19 year-old kid. I've said before, just because I'm pretty sure everything that comes out of her mouth is complete bullshit doesn't mean I should think everything that comes out of his mouth is the 100% god-honest truth. I mean, MAYBE it is; but Sully here is like a college football coach who, at the end of the day, puts his livelihood in the hands of kids. It is, to say the least, a bit of a gamble.
Either way, I still wansta hit some of that Sniffy stuff.

Death Row Meal

Via MOI, presumably written just after a mother/daughter threesome which included a "wartime nurse/wounded flyboy" scenario:
Some interesting notes on last meals of death row inmates. Why is the photo they use one of a guy on the phone - is he ordering Domino's for his last meal? Wtf? For some reason this has come up at my office a few times; my won answer is usually a replica of Sunday dinners as a kid (roast chicken, peas, Stove Top, mashed potatoes, homemade apple pie with Breyers vanilla, and homemade rolls.) Though now that I think about it I wouldn't mind a Pat's cheeseteak thrown in there too.

Even in such a desperate moment, I'm not sure I could keep a straight face and not fuck with the order. "This isn't mine." "Can you send this shit back? Bring the chef out!!" et al. "Are there peanuts in here? I'm allergic, for chrissake!!!!"
While skimming the article about the killer of James Byrd being executed, I almost missed this:
Brewer ate a huge final meal, according to Texas Department of Criminal Justice spokesman Jason Clark. It consisted of chicken fried steaks, a triple-meat bacon cheeseburger, a cheese omelet, a bowl of fried okra, barbeque, fajitas, pizza, and a slab of peanut butter fudge with crushed peanuts.
I'm not saying it's worth a dude being decapitated, but fucking hell, that's impressive.

James Byrd

Lost in the awful shuffle of Troy Davis being executed yesterday was the killer of James Byrd also being executed in Texas ("oh yeah? Take THAT!" sed Rock Perry.)

Interestingly enough, a James Byrd went to my high school, and in my first road game on the jv basketball team at W&L, there was a contest at halftime of the varsity game wherein a random seat was drawn, and the person in that seat was given a chance to hit a half-court shot and win $50.  A seat number was announced, onto the court walked James, and BLAMMO! he hit the fucker for $50.  Probably the highlight of my jv basketball career, other than scoring over half our points against King William and watching Marvin Croxton hit a shot in the wrong basket.  Of course, my varsity career was much more illustrious, including the greatest walk of all time.

Cupcakes (My Nickname in High School, BTW) (Well, According to My Football Coach)

I see my Tea Party Facebook friends are outraged at the Dept. of Justice spending $16 per cupcake at some event, screeching at the gub'ment's hyper-overspending because it's fascist etc etc.

Besides it turning out that the $16 cupcake is a myth, why wouldn't this be celebrated by such free market fetishizers as the TP/GOP?  If the government said "we need cupcakes," and some hotel was able to get $16 for a cupcake, isn't that a victory for small business in the cutthroat world of capitalism?  Doesn't that mean the hotel can "create more jobs"?  Instead of being mad at the government for paying $16 for a cupcake, shouldn't we be pissed the hotel didn't try to get $17, since isn't that what Jesus wants?

I guess billions of dollars spent on war planes that will never be used is fine, but $16 for a cupcake that isn't actually $16 but looks good on a placard with the Obama-as-Joker-from-Batman is too much.  And if your argument is well, making those planes creates jobs, why not make cupcakes instead?  I'm sorry, but cupcakes can be PRETTY fucking tasty.  Nom nom nom!

Same Old Same Old

Sully HERE is aghast at Wall Street wanting to create another meltdown.  I can't work up the pretense in being surprised anymore; one thing Republicans have been spectacularly consistent at is demanding to ignore history, be it Vietnam is to Iraq or the last financial meltdown is to the next one they're jonesing for.  And at this point it's even silly to try and blame them, as they've so brilliantly trained the middle class to be defiantly ignorant and willfully stupid in doing their bidding in exchange for waking up and somehow being an insider at Kennebunkport. We'll get another meltdown and then it's rinse, lather, repeat etc.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

I Mean, Damn.

Friday, May 14, 2010

How Shitty of a Voice Can Peter Buck Have?

While linking to The Baseball Project Letterman video in the post below I am reminded of something I've banged on before: how the fuck awful of a singer can Peter Buck possibly be? I mean, I can understand R.E.M. not letting him sing, but a fun supergroup of his buddies in which he plays bass and they sing songs about baseball, and even THEN they don't even put a mic on his side of the stage? In a word: WOW.

Keeping REM's Breakup in Perspective

Also, today's announcement gives the world an excuse to listen to a song that I recorded a hundred years ago, apparently underwater in a basement, that, while not as good as the worst REM song actually has Pete Buck in the title, so...NEVER FORGET.

AND We're Off!

Monday, September 07, 2009

My Top 10 REM Sogs (in No Particular Order)

Live and How to Live It
Finest Worksong
Radio Free Europe
Moral Kiosk
Don't Go Back to Rockville
Begin the Begin
I Believe
Fall On Me

Three More White Jobs Lost. Thanks, Obama!

R.E.M. "Splitting Up"

The traumatic "band breakup!" is obsolete; bands can come and go and put out records every 10 years and nobody cares, it's not like the old days when people thought the Beatles were done because it had been ten seconds since they dropped Revolver, for fuck's sake.


via REM:
 "To our Fans and Friends: As R.E.M., and as lifelong friends and co-conspirators, we have decided to call it a day as a band. We walk away with a great sense of gratitude, of finality, and of astonishment at all we have accomplished. To anyone who ever felt touched by our music, our deepest thanks for listening." R.E.M.  
As would any man of my generation with discernible taste, I grew up loving REM; besides themselves being great, the doors they opened to bands I loved then are now are incalculable to quantify.  And while I can't say I've given much of a shit about anything they've done in the last two decades, their first decade of music will always make them one of my all-time favorite bands.  I agree with Kurt Cobain that if I could choose one career path to take as a band both critically and commercially, it'd be REM.

And yet they've announced that they're splitting up today, and I don't really care.  For one, I'm old; if this had happened when I was 16 I would've played their records over and over while bawling about how great they were, but then these things happen when you're 39 you tend to not be quite so broken up.  Particularly, as I just said, when it would've been fine if they HAD broken up back then, since everything I love, with rare exception, they'd already put out.  To be honest, people should be relieved they don't hafta pretend REM is anything other than Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe.  And while I'm rolling my eyes re: their "breakup," any reason they're in the news is a good excuse to remind ourselves that they're probably THE single most important and defining band of any mix of college rock/alternative rock/80's Amerindie/grunge/alt-country and on and on over the last three decades.

But mostly, I just don't believe them.  I mean, just like when Jay-Z "retired", bands can come and go al they want, there's no reason to announce an officially breaking up, as I wrote about the White Stripes.

I'll always love REM.  But I have no idea why they're bothering with this announcement when you know that in a few years they'll get back together, this time with Bill Berry, have some laughs then a record then a reunion tour and voila! there ya go.

I'm sure I'll have a coupla pops tonight and start re-posting shit I've said about them, but it's because I care that they "broke up" today, but as an excuse to remember how great they were when I was a young buck.

Bastards of Young on SNL

Three of the greatest minutes ever on tv were when The Replacements roared through Bastards of Young on Saturday Night Live, complete with getting in trouble for Westerberg shouting "fucker" (although camon, you can't actually hear it.) While I wore out the VHS tape of it I had for years, I've never had any luck finding it online until now, so enjoy!

What a mess by mmr421

Xmastime Classixxx, Palindrome Edition

I don't really understand why the word for "word that reads the same backwards and forwards" does not read the same backwards and forwards. Woulda been cool, right? What the fuckkcufehttahw? - XMASTIME

Anyways, it occurred to me that she, and anyone else born that year, (1991)  had the greatest chance to be born in and then see another year which is a numeric palindrome in over 1000 years. 1991, 2002. Otherwise, you gotta live 110-120 years to see two different years like that (eg 1771 to 1881.) Last example that close woulda been 999 and 1001. Interesting. - XMASTIME

Mrs. XmastimeemitsamX!

Drunken Dater's palindrome birfday.

From What I Can Tell

...nobody has ever liked a single change Facebook has made, but zillions continue to flock to it and it rules over our lives more and more every day.

(Cue MARLEY:  "ooooh, just like the government!!")


Isn't Brad Pitt Handsome?

There's an odd symmetry to Brad Pitt's Moneyball coming out in the midst of the Bush Administration's what I'm sure will be an endless series of it's members going around on the talk show circuit selling books that pat themselves on the back for being terrible at their jobs.  I mean, you can't compare a baseball team to a group of men who caused so much death and destruction we'll be paying for it for decades to come as they destroyed any practical worth of American Exceptionalism in the name of braying their assurance of it, but while the A's had a nice run of winning a coupla division titles in a weak division, the one thing people will ever remember from those years is The Jeter Flip play, ie a game and series the A's ta-DA!....lost.

I'll Ask Again

Orville Redenbacher's Natural Popcorn
Serving size: 2 tbsp (35 g) unpopped (makes about 4.5 cups popped)
Servings per bag: 2.5
Calories per serving:
2 tbsp unpopped: 170
1 cup popped: 30

I'm still unsure as to why microwave popcorn is so determined to be as confusing as possible with it's calorie info. I mean, one bag is one bag; it is it's own entity. Just list the fucking calorie number already!!!!  Nobody is fucking opening the bag up and only popping a select group of kernels, or eating the kernels unpopped, but for some reason they give us "unpopped" info. And you either cook it and then eat it yourself, or you split it with a friend; if you're cooking up a batch and take out a handful and oput the rest away "for later," you're probably a fucking rail to begin with and don't need the info. What the fuck. Fuuuuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The King of Rock 'n Roll

I'm watching Hail! Hail! Rock 'n Roll and while it's up to Keef to show what a pain in the ass having to work with Chuck can be, Bruce talking about the transient style of Chuck's like is always funny to hear.

Hold the Fuck Up.

Not only do we hafta watch that fucking lunatic Nancy Grace flop-sweat across a dance floor while eating pancakes and panting like a dog lying in the sun after running a mile, but that bitch is co-opting my patented #1 finger, ie what I plan on leaving for the next generation?!??!!!!  Oh, HELL no!!!!

Nobody Wants to Admit They're Rich

Yglesias HERE points out how wealthy people don't consider themselves wealthy.  I know they're aware there's always gonna be someone with MORE $crillah, but I wonder if they really consider themselves to be not wealthy or simply have a hard time admitting it out loud, since as I wrote here, for some reason it's very important for everyone to portray themselves as scrappy underdogs.  Of course, if you've gotta have a problem in your life, I'd say having difficulty admitting you're rich as hell is a pretty good one to have, like being addicted to sex.

The Beatles Should Be Brothatime!!'s Favorite Band

A coupla years ago Brothatime!! had a riff where he was gonna be Bizarro Bruce - he'd play 15-minute concerts singing songs about being rich for only super rich fans.- XMASTIME, prolly while in a speedo buttered up and glistening
Reading the article about the Beatles below is a crack-up because we see this:
The agreement also guarantees the band payment of $40,000 (£25,338).

They eventually finished their 12-song set with Help! followed by its B-side, I'm Down.
Ha! $40K for about 25 minutes.  Ka-CHING!


Last week HERE I mentioned The Beatles refusing to play Jacksonville if the concert was segregated, and apparently the good people at BBC News are big Xmastime fans (duh!) since now they've come out with an article re: the same thing happening in California:
The Beatles had previously taken a public stand on civil rights in 1964, when they refused to perform at a segregated concert at the Gator Bowl in Jacksonville, Florida. 

City officials relented, allowing the stadium to be integrated, and the band took to the stage.
"We never play to segregated audiences and we aren't going to start now," said John Lennon. "I'd sooner lose our appearance money."

The struggle for racial equality in America later inspired Paul McCartney to write Blackbird.
Ironically, when I went to high school in 8th grade I discovered that white girls who dated black guys were called blackbirds, so.  Hmm.  Big Beatles fans, I guess.

Ray's & NYC

Also - don't read Whitman til you've been in NYC for awhile (even if only a coupla weeks.) I remember that hitting me in the noggin back in 1998. - sexy, sexy XMASTIME
It looks like The Original Ray's Pizza is closing down.  Or not closing down.  Nobody seems to fucking know.

But I do know that Ray's is one of those things about NYC you'd never "get" unless you lived here, and is included of about a million things about Seinfeld I never got until I lived here.
JERRY: What's around you?
KRAMER: I'm lookin' at Ray's Pizza. You know where that is?
JERRY: Is it Famous Ray's?
KRAMER: No. It's Original Ray's.
JERRY: Famous Original Ray's?
KRAMER: It's just Original, Jerry!
JERRY: Well, what street are you on?
KRAMER: Hey, I'm on first and first. How can the same street intersect with itself? I must be at the nexus of the universe.
On a side note, what the fuck is up with those pigeons?  How lucky are these fuckers - an entire fucking pizza? Where do these fuckers live?

Wendy's: MORE Awesome?

As you already  couldn't possibly give less of a shit  Wendy's is my favorite fast food burger, and now they've kicked things up with the oddly unless-you're-turned-on-by-chubby-dead-men (guilty) named Dave's Hot 'n Juicy Burger.  I'm more fucking jazzed about the buns being buttered and grilled than anything else.  Much like a girl  drinking the roofie I've slipped into her Zima  wearing the right fuck-me shoes, that can take a burger from a 6 to a 9 pretty quick.

Also, sad to see that John Edwards is now a food critic.  How the mighty have fallen - wasn't it just yesterday he was   burying that beautiful head of hair next to a fetus  running for president?  That makes me sad  :(

Dear Facebook Friend:

I'm not saying you're a racist.  I'm not saying all Tea Party people are racist.  But if you giddily pass along this quote:
Just heard the speaker of the house say the first sensible thing Ive heard on the news in a while,he said giving the fed govt more money in taxes is like giving a cocaine addict more cocaine!!Now thats the straight truth there!! And thats how the HNIC runs the govt,like a crack head with some ones credit card!!
and "like" it etc, this MIGHT not help your "it has nothing to do with Obama's skin, I'm purely angry at what I see as his troubling misunderstanding of macroeconomics and Keynesian thoughts as to production and employment" case.  I mean, I'm just saying.