Movie Review

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
3 outta 4 Xmas Trees

Finally saw Little Miss Sunshine. A fun flick, I enjoyed it. Not great. But really good, a fun watch. Ending's a bit tuff to not roll your eyes to re: absurdity. My Xmas senses tingle whenever I get presented with "here comes a wacky cast of characters placed in one ridiculous situation after another!" and I get a bit suspicious/turned off. Cast was pretty phenomenal though - even though his character is too over the top I enjoyed Alan Arkin. Greg Kinnear was great as the emasculated husband to Toni Collette who has just found her on the Mrs. Xmatime Probation List - those teeth! Fucking a!!! Can eat corn through a chain-link fence!! Will keep an eye on her. And Steve Carell was perfect, dead on.

But boy, that little girl, fucking hell...JUMPED outta the screen, didn't she? Incredible. All at once you root like crazy for her, you know you'd go white hot with fury if any kids picked on her and you were there. Amazing spirit to her, and perfectly natural. I think it might be the glasses, but man. Can not recall a more instantly likable character in a movie, much less one that's what, 10 years old? Awesome. Made the movie. Good for her.






"Xmastime mentioned me? ME????!!!! I've made it!! YES!!!!"

Is It Moi?

Few months back I got a call to turn on the tv, Curt Shilling was about to throw a no-hitter. Turned the tv on, first pitch I saw BAM!!! ... no-hitter, gone. Which I enjoyed, cause I hate nobody in sports more than that fucking asshole. And now about 10 minutes ago I saw online that some kid from the Twins was throwing a PERFECT GAME going into the ninth. So I turn on ESPN, who had cut into the game, and the first pitch I see is ball four...perfection ruined. And I kept watching, so about 5 pitches later the no-hitter was lost. I feel like if I turn back to watch, a mountain lion will come from out of nowhere and eat him on the mound. Poor kid. Felt bad for him.

REM

To me, there are two REM records: Murmer and Life's Rich Pageant. Reckoning, tho it features "Don't Go Back to Rockville", is overrated. And Fables, which has MY personal favorite REM cut, "Life and How to Live It", sucks too. Document, about half of it, is incredible. A great record.

But REM don't owe me anything, simply for setting me up with these two records....flawless, awesome records from my youth. More memories than I can hold right now, but certainly a part of my obituary.

New Orleans: Quit Whining!!!!

“We’re still paying attention”??!?!?!!?!

Oh boy gee, thanks!!! Lucky for New Orleans, THE PRESIDENT OF OUR COUNTRY is still “paying attention.” Wow!! What a guy!!! Two years later the place is still shredded, and it gets a slap on the ass and a “we’re still paying attention.” As in “quit bothering me.” What a fuckwad. Go play grab-ass for a few hours, pretend to be sad about all the dead niggers, then get back to DC. I wish the people left there would tell him to go fuck himself and go be President of Iraq, which apparently is “God’s plan” anyway.








"This rubs off, right Ray Ray? Heh heh heh...okay, I'm outta here."







Well, the doctor comes 'round here with his face all bright
And he says "in a little while you'll be alright"
All he gives is a humbug pill, a dose of dope and a great big bill
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

He says "me and my old school pals had some might high times down here
And what happened to you poor black folks, well it just ain't fair"
He took a look around gave a little pep talk, said "I'm with you" then he took a little walk
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

There's bodies floatin' on Canal and the levees gone to Hell
Martha, get me my sixteen gauge and some dry shells
Them who's got got out of town
And them who ain't got left to drown
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

I got family scattered from Texas all the way to Baltimore
And I ain't got no home in this world no more
Gonna be a judgment that's a fact, a righteous train rollin' down this track
Tell me, how can a poor man stand such times and live?

Buzz Buzz Buzz (Vibrator Section)

Back when land lines were the main phones, both at home and the office, it used to drive me bonkers when someone would call and whoever picked up the phone would ask "who's calling?" Now, it's one thing if they would ask who's calling and then decide whether or not they should let that person through. Maybe the boss or whomever said "ill talk to so and so, but not this other so and so." Fine. But most of the time they ask who's calling and before the person's even done saying their name, they're patching them through. So there was no reason for even asking, you're just sending them through anyway. It's like a habit borne out of ritualistic gossipy curiosity. "Maybe THIS time it'll be Posh Spice..." Christ. It's like door buzzers here in the city. 90% of the time when I visit someone I ring the buzzer and then boom, I'm buzzed in. Nobody comes over the intercom and asks who I am, there's no cameras. Just buzz, I'm in. Why even have the buzzer if you're just gonna go "oh someone's buzzing, I'll let them in without checking who they are." Strange to me. And by "strange to me" of course I mean "I wish women would open up their snatches without finding out who's about to fuck them." Sigh. Would REALLY help out my numbers.

Tie a String Round My Finger

I need to remember to use the phrase "driving while Asian." Seriously, every time I hear this one, I'm on the ground laughing. But then I immediately forget it; just like I never remember to say "beer o' clock" at the bar when someone asks what time it is. "You're as useless as tits on a bull", another one I keep forgetting. Gotta remember this shizzle.

Good Lord.

While typing the post below I found myself watching Dawson’s Creek...and by “found myself watching” of course I mean “turned off my cell phone and took out the batteries in the smoke alarm so it won’t dare go off when Pacey tells Dawson about kissing Joey.” And yes, by watching Dawson’s Creek, I may be part of the problem. But a line of dialogue popped up that, even by the amazingly bad standards set by this show, was stunning.

SETTING STAGE: Jack has a gay friend over, which of course his father hates. Jack and his father hate each other and are destined to a lifetime of hatred. Blah blah blah. Jack is ranting to his friend, spewing (no, not THAT kind of spewing!!! gays do other things too, you know!!!!) how much he hates the old man, when gay boy #2 looks up tells him he should let go of his anger. Let it go. Jack is apoplectic, fuck pops!! No let up! To which gay boy says:

“You know, a nice side-effect of letting go of your anger is you don’t have to be angry any more”

REALLY? Hmm. If that’s the SIDE effect, what the fucks the DESIRED affect? "You know, a side effect of of fisting someone is now you have a fist up someone's ass; probably Seacrest's." Do Viagra packages list a side effect of “becoming hard”? Obviously, I wouldn’t need to know...cough...all I still need is a nice, cold toilet bowl and memories of the afternoon bus in 7th grade....Danielle, Danielle, Danielle!

I can’t speak for Owen Wilson, but one thing that can keep someone alive to the next day is th fact that even after repeated viewings, Dawson’s Creek can still stun with one of it’s patented “did...did he just say that?” lines. Sigh.

Pretending to Be Embarrassed...Ain't That America

(full disclosure: the author of this post won his school's World Geography Award in 1986. If that makes some of you ladies horny, just let me know.)

A few things have occurred to me after a whole day of people pounding this girl from South Carolina who during the Miss Teen USA Pageant was asked the question why one-fifth of Americans can't find the United States on a map. First of all,who remembered South Carolina was a state? But really, am I the only person surprised to find out that apparently four-fifths of Americans CAN locate America on a map? I mean, for fuck’s sake...between following every second of Paris’ jail time and wondering what all the girls from this season of The Real World see in Dunbar, who has time to sit around and look at maps all day? I’m sure a quick googling to find out how we rank among all countries in geography test scores will only lead to embarrassment – a fact I’m sure being pointed out by every other country in the world who has seen this video clip. Of course we’ll feign outrage and embarrassment in front of other countries about this girl being an idiot. But it’s tough to pull off such fake shame when we are, of course, the country that can no longer be humiliated by our sheer dumbness.





















But what’s up with the question in the first place...why are we dressing up these teenage girls in skimpy little outfits with their titties taped and parading them around a stage and then asking a heavy question like that in the first place? Hell, some girl called in a radio show yesterday and said that in another teen pageant she was asked what she would have done to prevent the Holocaust. Fucking Christ. I'm sorry - that wasn't her answer, that's my usual expression for exasperation. All these pageants, it’s always “how would you solve world hunger, how would you create world peace forever?” etc etc. What the fuck. Let’s be a little more honest here and ask things like “are Paris and Nicole REALLY bff again?” or “how many middle-aged men living with their mothers are jerking off to this right now?” We put these girls on the spot in front of millions of people and ask these these ponderous, world-changing questions. Yet in a televised debate while choosing the next leader of the free world, we only ask the same fucking questions over and over: “what’s your stance on abortion? Will you make sure gays can’t get married? what’s your stance on abortion? Will you make sure gays can’t get married?
what’s your stance on abortion? Will you make sure gays can’t get married?
what’s your stance on abortion? Will you make sure gays can’t get married?”

Hardly seems right to me.

Suicide Try

I gotta say...if Mr. Rich & Famous Fun-Loving Cool Breeze Owen Wilson is trying to kill himself, what the fuck hope do the rest of us have? Christ.

Teenage Wasteland

Everybody wants to jump on this little girl (pun intended! I wanna hit that, I'm H O R N Y!!!!!!) for being, apparently, a bit of an idiot. Fair enough; I'm fairly sure I could spout about 2000 words here about what fucking idiots we Americans have become. Fatter and dumber by the second with no sense of place in the world other than "We're #1!!" Well, and we all know that "these colors don't run." But I'm a little weirded out we're watching this in the first place. I remember a few days ago the headlines and airwaves were plastered with that MONSTER guy Couey who had fucked with, raped and then killed some 9 year old girl. And just like anytime we hear about adults fucking with kids we act horrified, outraged, and O'Reilly screams at judges in Vermont for about an hour. But on the very day the Couey verdict comes in, later on that night I'm flipping around on the tube and on NBC, in prime time for ka-zillions of viewers, is the Miss Teen USA Pageant. Huh? We're so outraged at pedophilia, except in the case of that show where they trap dudes which has become a comical farce, but then we butter up the popcorn, hunker down on the couch and ogle teenage girls prancing around a stage on national tv in god knows what. Hypocritical to me. If you're gonna air teen beauty pageants, you don't get to spend one second of air time acting horrified at some sicko who goes after young girls. Maybe you're a small part of the problem, you perverted fucks.

BTW - Anyone know when this chick's gonna be 18?

Me and the Dog, Boyzzzz!!!!

Thanks to Ron, the buddy of my newest favorite person on Earth David Augustus Golden Watts, I just talked on the phone with my guy, my hero of heroes....Mad Dog.

TRANSCRIPT:

"Hewwo, Gweg?"

"Mad Dog?! Wow!!"

"Hiya pal, thanks for listening!"

"Mad Dog Ive met Bruce, and this is as thrilling!"

"Weally, wow, thanks pal!"

"Wow!"

"Thanks for listening, keep it up!"

"Wow!"


END TRANSCRIPT

Still can't believe it. Typing on air!










"I wuv Xmastime THIS much, pal!!"

Is There Anybody Alive Out There?

Must say. Crizz-anks. "Open all Night" meets Halfway to Sanity, in a strange way. Looking forward to the album....even if the title is gayer than gay.

Listen to "Radio Nowhere" here.

5 Words I Have Never, and Prolly Never Will, Spelled Correctly.

Rhythm
Liaison
Calendar
Sincerely
Accidentally
Separate

You know who had some great Texas Toast back in the day - Dairy Queen. Chicken strips basket, with that white gravy. Fuckin a. Ultimate Burger in the early 90's was my schlicola there.

A Quest!

I love toast. I know, I know: shocker. But toast, boring as it may be to some, is one of my desert island foods. But can someone explain the 2-slice toaster to me? Is this the biggest waste of time since the post-high school handjob? Two measly pieces of bread? Pops up, by the time you've buttered the bread and inhaled it, it's been 6 seconds. So now you want more, but you know you're gonna hafta wait another 2 minutes for another 6 seconds of pleasure. So then you start putting two more pieces in as you take two out, trying to start a smooth cycle. But it never works, you're still standing there feeling like an idiot so anxiously awaiting, let's face it, two slices of bread. I've seen the 4-slice ones. A step up for sure, but I think I may start my search for the Holy Grail: the 8-slice toaster. I'm ready for it. Never peeped by humans in it's own natural habitat, but I'm gonna fnd one and then really start eating some damn toast. Wish me luck! TOP TOAST BREADS White bread Jewish Rye and then of course there's Texas Toast; the one thing I give Texas credit for contributing to American Society. A whole different animal - don't think I've even seen it since my Golden Corral days of the mid-late 80's. But is there anything more exciting than seeing on the menu that your meal comes with Texas Toast?

Black and White?

Andrew Sullivan’s post here about Bush’s speech yesterday points out the two needs Bush has in his own head to perpetuate the “war” he insists on us waging: 1) there is no complexity, only black and white – we are the good guys, they are the bad guys and everybody, including the bad guys, know it and 2) if you conclude that things aren’t that simple and you aren’t interested in kicking some more ass because “these colors don’t run”, then you ARE the enemy and actively participate in hating the troops.

None of this is really news to us, of course. Except I also stumbled upon this article about Mother Teresa. Now here’s a woman whose name is LITERALLY synonymous with saintly works – if anyone in our lifetime had God’s email it woulda been her, no? Yet during decades of faith and good works, she spent every day dealing with doubt. Doubt about if there even was a God, much less if he was speaking to or through her.

Yet she never stopped doing good works, never stopped helping people, never stopped trying to get others to see the good in faith. Could it be it was BECAUSE of her doubt and questioning that propelled her – always seeking, always trying to please a being she wasn’t even sure was there? Hoping that there was a God, and that surely he would approve most of a base caring and helping of people. Erring on the side of humble goodness, even.

Obviously this is in complete juxtaposition with George Bush’s black and white world, which tells him there certainly is a God and anything that is to happen is in God’s hands. God is absolute, as is his relationship with Bush. This is not even in question. So whatever Bush does, whatever happens is right by God - no matter what reason, rationale or common human morality tells him. There is no reason for him to think otherwise. Such thinking gives him a perverted sense of freedom, “hey it’s in God’s hands cause I have total faith. I don’t need to read or think or listen, God’s on it, so do as I say.”

So on one hand, a person with doubt about her own faith that builds upon that doubt with a lifetime of good works and helping people. On the other, a person who uses his unwavering, unquestionable faith to bully those who would dare question him into doing his own want. Quite a difference.

Perhaps in the upcoming election we could spend less time obsessing over the strength of a candidate's faith and a little more time on his willingness to question.

NOW He Wants to Start Reading History Books...

It's hard to wrap my head around how Bush could try to use "lessons learned" from pulling out of Vietnam as a way to keep us from pulling out of Iraq.

But I am Xmastime, so I will try: Bush wants to use the lessons of Vietnam to convince us to not pull out of a war he got us into by NOT using the lessons of Vietnam in the first place.

Hmm. Got it.

You know Dubs, you don't come off well when all of a sudden you wanna use such things as facts, lessons learnt and history in your argument. As you are the president who brags about not reading, stick to what you do best: listening to your amazing, pitch-perfect "instinct" and, of course, telling us it's what Jesus told you to do.

Or maybe you coulda learned from your own personal history lesson and treated the "Iraq War" in the beginning as you did Vietnam: avoid it.

Michael Vick

Errol Louis pretty much nails it on the head for me in this Daily News joint.

God I Hate Your Band

Since he promises to post more than once every 6 months, I am putting GodIHateYourBand back on my list of "friends." don't fuck it up, GIHYB.

Pol Pot

Anyone who has ever read this blog or has been in my presence for more than 7 minutes knows about my predeliction for sitting on the hopper for 40 minutes at a time, thanks to a childhood spent without being able to sit for more than 12 seconds before getting yelled at to get out. I gotta brush my teeth, shave, whatever - before or after I'm done I'm sitting on the bowl and taking my sweet time. If I even try to WALK by a shitter, I'm like hmmmm....and curl up with a Southern Living.

My shower routine has always been (and yes, I know it's a huge waste of water) go in, turn on the the shower, then sit down and read for 20 minutes. Okay, MAYbe rub one out to memories of rainbows, dreams and bleached asshole hairs I once found in a Hardee's. Anyway, I always set the shower to how I like it and then let it run while I sit. So after a while the whole joint steams up, I'm sweating, the wallpaper's pealing. I mean from the shower, not from what's happening on the "apparatus."

All of a sudden, after all the years, it shot to my head today...."hey dumbfuck...you can set the shower to cold while it's just running, then crank it to hot when you're ready."

Always learning.

Quit with the MPH Shit

Can I watch a fucking baseball game nowadays without getting the fucking mph of every goddam pitch? Jesus christ. Who gives a shit - you know, they already have guys who track this shit. They're called "major league coaches." Why do I need to know - is Joe Torre gonna call me up in the middle of a game "yo Xmas, how hard's he throwing?" Also, 99% of all the pitches are within about 6 mph. So you watch every pitch and it's like "....hmm, 91...ah, 89....91...91....hmmm, 90....hmm, 91...." what am I supposed to be getting out of this? It's like when I'm eating some chick out and she's all "left, right, right, left blah blah blah..." Totally superfluous, and not what anybody paid to see. So unless the shit hits 100mph or drops comically low to, say, 40mph get the shit off my fucking screen.

Wiki Wiki Wiki (Shut Up!)

I think it's time we officially made "wikipedia" a verb, a la "google." I spend all day wikipedi-ing shit. "Elephants? Hmm. Lemme wikipedia them. Silver Spooins...how old is Erin Grey? Lemme wikipedia that..."

And yes, I know you're looking for the requisite "here's where Xmas drops in something about fisting asian babies." Sorry. Not today, people.

Fuck You Curt

It’s hard to put into words how much I hate Curt Schilling. He is such a loud-mouth look-at-me nobody that I would be okay with the Sox winning another World Series if it meant I could pay a fucking rat 25 cents to walk up and kick this motherfucker in the nuts (oooohhh, bloody nuts!! send them to the Hall of Fame!!) For all of his calling in to every talk show that will have him through the years, blathering that he “knew the real deal” when it came to steroids, when it came to Congress this dipshit started sputtering “oh gee, why listen to me, I’m a jokester! I’m a nobody!!” And then awhile back when he started spouting off at the mouth re: Barry Bonds’ personal fucking life? He cheated on his wife, he cheated on his TAXES??!! Schilling is such a little fucking shit that he has made Barry do the unthinkable: wave away his veneer of “I don’t care.” Barry has said he is going to sue Schilling’s ass off for slander, and I pray to God he actually fucking does it. The pounding Bonds has taken every step of the way to the HR record is bad enuff; but for some motherfucker to go to the airwaves to wave around personal shit like that? OOooooh, lemme guess Schillings argument: “oh, but your Honor! I’m just a ballplayer, a jokester! Who takes me seriously???!!" Fuck you. Bonds is the most hated man in baseball? Not in my eyes. Seriously, read up on this douchebag.

Let’s see what Mad Dog has to say about it.

This Person Officially Scares Me

Good lord…Keith Richards must be spinning in his grave. “Let’s see…ecstasy, check…oooh yeah, load in the coke….some horse, fuck yeah!!!…aaaaaaaand I’m what 88 pounds? Yeah, seems like you should throw that horse tranquilizer in there too....."

Somethings askew, No?

So here we are, less than one month after being accused of dogfighting and Michael Vick has til 5pm to plea bargain for only one year in jail, looking down the barrel at 20 years if he goes to trial. His jumpsuit fitted and waiting for him.

Yet we have VIDEOTAPE of R. Kelly fucking around with a 14 year old girl, and FIVE YEARS LATER he is still nowhere near a courtroom, and in the meantime we have watched him parade around releasing albums, touring the world, GIVEN HIM AWARDS and gleefully applauded his creepier than creepy "Trapped in a Closet" nonsense. What the fuck? Something smells here. Shit's not right.

We're Allllllllllllllllllllllll Worried About Kelly

As I mentioned yesterday, I sensed Kelly was about to slide into every thin, beautiful girl’s dream come true: developing a hard-core eating disorder. So I decided to closely watch the next episode and see how she holds up.

CUE THEME SONG AT 4:00

4:05 – After bitching cause David ate the last banana at breakfast: “that’s okay. I shouldn’t eat anyway.” OH-OH!!!! Alarm bells!! Such clever, subtle writing – why don’t they just have her stick the banana down her throat and puke in the sink? Jesus Christ. Wait a second…did I…just finally stumble upon the third act to my latest movie, “Make Me Puke in the Sink, Jesus Christ”? Serendipity, my fickle mistress: welcome back!!!!

4:09 – Now she snaps at Steve after overhearing him talking about “perfect-looking” women. “There’s no such thing as perfect!!” and stomps away. “There’s no such thing as perfect”? Doesn’t sound like someone who’s striving to lose weight to gain the perfect body, does it? Kelly, are you even TRYING to get under 100 lbs, or is this just a lot of hot air? Which, I shouldn't have to remind you, is what you're supposed to be eating. Lard-ass.

4:10 – Dylan just offered her a potato chip. Declines. Who the fuck says no to a potato chip - can NObody see these fucking signals, people?

Oh wait, here we go….Dylan catches that she’s taking diet pills. He is, after all, a mixture of one part shamen, one part doctor, and one part James Dean. Without the talent to drive himself off a cliff of course. Dylan is the one person in the world who slowly nods his head in agreement during Eddie and the Cruisers II when Eddie blathers that “the music is in the silences!” What a genius. Now he shakes his head. “You should eat.” Kelly looks disgusted. I guess she doesn’t want a greasy chip. Or Steve just got his perm re-activated and it’s wafting.

Side note…she agrees to go to dinner with Dylan, who says ”I’ll pick you up at 8:30.” 8:30? Wtf? Now, I know these are rich kids, a different world from me in high school. Well, or now. I had a curfew – there’s no way I’m waiting to meet up with my girl at 8:30. Every minute was precious – 30 seconds after the final bell, I got my snout up my girl’s rim like a gotdam hounddog at a pork chop piñata. Not once did I say to her “Yeah, we’ll meet up, but first I’m gonna go home and hang out with my folks for five hours, cool?” Shit’s whack. And doesn’t this just give Kelly more time to think about how fat she is?

4:15 – “Maybe I just don’t feel like being Kelly Taylor anymore!” I see. Another signal - she’s tired of being young, popular and rich. Well, and fat I guess. Storms home during lunch..

4:16 – ohoh!! Hitting the fridge! Scarfing ice cream, why is she even using a spoon?!?! Now freaks out, shoves ice cream down the sink. Isn’t the ol’ “hoovers ice cream frantically” a little clichéd at this point for depicting women with eating disorders? Just once I’d like to see one of these girls tear apart a Cornish game hen with their teeth, growling while their eyes roll back in their heads. Outside of my porn stash, I mean. When are ice cream companies gonna jump in on this, start targeting these women? “Our Vomiting Vanilla will have you retching like you just saw a short hair in it, Tubby!” Maybe scoopers shaped like fingers? Ice cream containers with a toilet seat lid? Gag!

4:17 – Turns our her mom is selling the house, and there’s an Open House right now. Kelly’s irritable!!! Yelling at potential buyers!!! Ohoh, now she’s screaming at this 12-year old girl that’s with her mother, checking out the house….of course it doesn’t occur to anyone to ask why neither of these girls are in school during the middle of the day….or why an Open House has been scheduled for the middle of a weekday…or why God stopped at two when giving chicks titties....ooooohh, Kelly’s angry – she did NOT seem sincere when she said “you’re welcome!” to her mom’s “thanks so much for running these people off!!” I’d say Kelly should put something in her stomach, but then I wouldn’t be supportive of her “diet”, would I?

4:25 - Kelly and her Mom are fighting. Meeeooooooow! Mom: “you’re 18, you have to learn to cope with things!!” um, hello….isn’t she? By scarfing n barfing? Least she’s trying!!!! Just her way, mama!

Oh my. Mom has just seriously quoted the Bible: “this too shall pass.” Wow. Though I have a feeling Jackie has used that one before, peut-etre after swallowing too much during another “bukkake for blow” session. And I think the writers blew an opportunity here for a real, open dialogue: Kelly should’ve retorted to the Bible quote with “Ooooh, that’s heavy!” to wit Mama could’ve snorted back “Not as heavy as you fat-ass!!” Then they both turn to the camera for a 60-second PSA on “eating disorders and why they work.”

4:30 – Kelly’s having a fit, not going to dinner cause she cant find a shoe! Dylan: “youre not going just because of a lousy shoe?” Ohoh. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan….3 things you don’t say to a woman: 1) something about their weight, 2) “why don’t you pay for dinner, you KNOW I got fired for not knowing how to read you heartless bitch!! And I’m into shit-play!!” and 3) something that doesn’t take their shoes seriously. You’d think D-Man would know this. Disappointing.

4:32 – ohoh…looking in a mirror, this cant be good…frowning…spinning, more frowning, silent disgust with herself….oh yeah! Break out the pills!! Suck em down, fatty!!! Yes!!! Aaaaaaaaaaand we’re off!!!

4:40 - Now she’s in a convertible complaining about overheating. Dr. Dylan: “its prolly the diet pills, Kel.” Now she says her heart is beating a mile a minute….Dylan shakes his head, drives on to the surprise birthday party for Kelly. He knows she’s been popping pills and not eating, now she’s complaining about being too hot even though he says it’s freezing, and her heart is dangerously racing….I gotta agree with the doctor here, what she needs is the calming, soothing act of everybody she knows jumping out from behind the furniture and screaming “SURPRISE!!” at her. This guy is, in a word, good.

4:42 – Well, she survived her own entrance. Ooooohh, frosty hug from Brenda…guess if Kellys gonna start eating now, it's not gonna be Brenda’s Golden Palace of the Himalayas. And who is this black dude Andrea’s with? I’ve never seen a black person on this show, now all of a sudden he’s hanging all over Andrea while everyone calls him Jordan. The Walsh’s must be furious, thinking they moved to the one place in the country whiter than Minnesota and now this guy shows up!

4:45 – Kelly going to the bathroom! This is gonna be good!! PLE-E-E-E-NTY of mirrors and toilets to get her juices flowing!!! Her own version of me walking into a Fuddruckers with….well, Fuddruckers would be enough, actually. She’s at a sink, throwing cold water on herself. Wtf. How does NOT eating make you overheat? Think it would be the opposite, no? My body temperature rises 20 degrees if I fucking walk by a Burger King. Okay, Im lying, it rises 20 degrees if I WALK. Oh wait, is this the body recognizing that Kelly wants to lose weight? “hmmm…she’s upchucking on purpose…let’s turn up the heat, help her sweat some off... good for her!!” wow…the female body, eh - is there nothing it can’t do? I mean other than orgasm during intercourse, obviously. Poor things.

4:46 – Sucking down water…room spinning…oooh Kelly, you are an ugly bitch!!!! This is gonna be good…..

4:47 – Brenda walks in KELLY’S ON THE FLOOR! UNCONSCIOUS!! DAMN YOU, COMMERCIALS!!!! Now we gotta wait to see what happens….if I didn’t already know Kelly was later gonna sleep her way thru the cast and get hooked on crack while joining a cult, I’d worry she might be dead.

4:52 - Kelly’s at the hospital. Dylan’s taking it hard, beating himself up for not throwing her pills out earlier. But not for 8 Seconds, I see. Interesting – is it even possible to figure this guy out? He’s an enigma wrapped in a riddle encased in another enigma with a Sphinx colostomy bag. Now the gang is going over what they’ve seen over the past few weeks. Gee, turns out they’ve all seen Kelly not eat and pop a ton of pills. What a group of friends. They could watch OJ buying a case of leather gloves and he wouldn’t get an intervention from this bunch. “Come to think of it, he DID email us every day for two weeks he was gonna kill her…hmmm….” And seriously, who is this black guy with his arms around Andrea??

4:53 – Kelly’s mom is now bitching at the doctor that she don’t understand how the pills went wrong. “They’re supposed to be safe!” Nothing like a coke addict yelling this at a doctor. This is like someone's dick screaming at the cops “hey, she said she was 16!!!”

4:54 – Why does she have 2 black eyes? Doesn’t it seem like every time someone’s in a hospital bed on tv, their eyes are black? What’s going on in these fucking ambulances?

4:56 – Brenda and Kelly making up. Awww. Hearts melting all over the US. Leaving, Brenda says “call me tomorrow, i'll take you out for ice cream.” Brilliant move, Brenda! Fatten the bitch up so Dylan will dump her! Yes!!!!

Show ends Dylan in room as she falls asleep. Obviously the lesson is that if you get skinny enough you’ll end up in the hospital, reuniting with your best friend and sleeping with your ridiculously rich boyfriend. One to grow on! Whoops...too soon?

Goodbye Karl Rove

Like anyone with half a human heart, I rejoiced a bit when Karl Rove resigned the other day. Cause let’s face it: he’s ugly. But one thing that cracked me up is how the Republicans turned on him after the November elections; furious that he “failed to deliver.” I thought at the time that if I was Rove I’d tell them to go fuck themselves - this guy got a retard elected President TWICE and set up the party to rule with unprecedented unaccountability. Every branch, check – they ruled the roost, thanks in large part to him. After this, I would think he’d be able to stroll around the White House naked cutting beer farts. Now, I don’t know how much power he really wielded between elections – maybe a lot, maybe none. But I don’t think he went around asking these Republicans to make complete asses of themselves, be it Delay or Hastert or Foley. Yes, the guy was a snake and built the team that would take the reins and pretty much ruin a lot of America and certainly their own party. But he did his job: put them in power. What they did with it is their own fault. These Republicans being pissed at him are like a guy winning the lottery, but then being pissed at the guy that gave him the winning ticket cause he blew all his winnings on booze and gonzo porn (that’s twice in one day! Can I keep it going???!!)

Oh Oh

Earlier I confirmed a job interview with a woman named Erin. Then shortly after I talked to another girl Erin about coming to see my friend's apartment to rent. Then I open cnn.com and see THIS.

Hmm. Doesn't bode well for our hero, does it?

Italics and Quotes

It's really coming to my attention that I have no idea whether to italicize movie or tv titles. Which ones get quotes, which ones get italics? I've known this about mysef for years, yet have had zero interest in looking it up to know for sure even though it would take about 90 seconds. Which, ironically, I don't seem to mind spending on this post ABOUT titles. Hmm.

You Can't Bullshit a Bullshitter, Especially if He's as Handsome as Me

I went to bed last night with a squirrel. Wait, that’s a different post. I went to bed last night steaming about this article. Basically John Edwards asked Obama to join him in not accepting money from federal lobbyists. A noble, if a bit grandstanding of a request. I’m kinda grazing the article, thinking well if Obama agrees that’s great, but thinking it’s prolly not realistic. Or that he'll tell Edwards to go eff himself and worry about his own campaign. Fair enuff. But then Obama’s spokesperson comes out with this gem:

Obama campaign spokesman Bill Burton quickly responded, saying in a statement that it is not enough to refuse lobbyist money. Instead, “we have to curb their influence,” he said.

This, to me, is both a patronizing and stupid answer. Burton seems to be saying that the problem is SO monumental and the solution SO lofty that, you know, it’s not even worth their time or effort to fool around with not accepting the money in the first place. We should skip the first step and wait around for the vague, nebulous one of “curbing their influence.” Which is, in a word, bullshit. So obviously they wanna keep on taking money. Hey, Obama can do what he wants – let’s face it, campaign finance is a bigger problem than him, the system we’ve set up makes it impossible to go crazy on a candidate who feels the need to grab whatever dollars he can get from anybody. But I did go to bed thinking at least Obama would bawl out this dude for making him look so stupid with such a crass yet worthless answer.

But then this morning I get up and read this article, with the money quote that Obama

acknowledged Thursday that he swims in "the same muddy water" that corrupts Washington, but he pledged to reform the system if elected president.

Now, like I just said, I don’t wanna turn this into an Edwards v. Obama thing over campaign finance. Cause it’s a bit absurd. But this quote drives me bananas. Again: insulting and stupid. Obama is trying to tell us that he’s accepting all this money from these people so that he can become President so that he can then….get rid of these people and their influence. Hmm. As Reggie Jackson says in “The Bronx is Burning”, I was born at night but I wasn’t born last night. Accepting enough money from these people means they’re gonna expect something once you’re in the Oval Office. Obviously. Now, as a candidate you can say a lot of things to voters, make a lot of promises about this and that and Wednesday is free tacos all over the country. Pretty much 4 days after you take office, the majority of the people completely forget what you have said or promised them and they get back to living their own lives. But you know the one group of people who DON’T forget? Ta-da!!!...lobbyists. Obama’s really feeding this horseshit to us?

In one day we have both Obama and a high-ranking spokesman each saying stupid, insulting things. Camon. As Vince Vaughn says in every movie he's ever been in no matter how much fatter he gets, you're better than that.

ON A SIDE NOTE: campaign finance is a joke and desperately needs to be reformed. Surprise. When I run for the office, I won't accept any money from lobbyists simply cause I'd rather lose than hafta spend the next four years spending every minute of the day returning favors to these mfs. How can I push my plan to get rid of ketchup if I'm in meetings with the NRA all fucking day? I'm just above lazy enough to get the shit done that I WANNA get done; I certainly don't have the work ethic to do shit I don't care about. These fucks today decide they wanna be President and then work backwards from there: what do I have to say or believe in to win? Then when they get in, their calander is so chock full of paybacks they can't even choose their own gonzo porn. No thanks.

Ohoh, It's Magic

While of course I'm ecstatic at the announcement of his upcoming album, I gotta say. Between this official photo and the album being titled, cough, "Magic".....not helping out your "straight case", Brucie.





















But then, our hero has always been about what the song says: "the men don't know, but the little girls, along with the 300-lb jerri-curled dudes who know how to wrap their lips around something and blow, understand."
















"You're cute....wanna get outta here?"

From the MSNBC.com Homepage

What the fuck is this dude swilling? At best he's chugging a gallon of hot beer; at worst it's gasoline or urine. Jeez. I don't think it's gonna be the heat that kills this dumbass.

Depressed.

I'm so fucking depressed. A month ago, I was riding high: eating fruits and salads, working out, walking, on a healthy high. Felt good, felt good about myself, couldn't wait to hit 200. Then my birthday hit, and I let myself slack off. Next thing you know I'm visiting Paddy Mac, then the beach, giving myself alloances to slack. S'okay I told myself I'll get right back on it and I'll be alright. Then Monday my knee got fucked up, so I've been immobile. Just ate about a gallon of spaghetti. Have completely undermined all my hard work from May-July. Totally negated. Fuck. Furious and depressed out of my mind. This sucks.

Beverly Hills 90210hwhatthefuck

Has ANYone with ears and a brain ever not cringed whenever David Silver started ooohing and aaahing his too-soft beyond terrible whiteboy cutz onscreen? Beyond embarrasssing; luckily he covers it up by wearing not only Hammer parachute pants, but a shirt to match. Wow.

Right now I'm watching an episode from the gang's senior year - surely the Babe Ruth of the series' seasons (Brandon is about to get his thumbs broke for gambling, and Dylan has to choose between Brenda and Kelly who sit and wait for him like purring kittens, all while it turns out he has read every classic book ever written and is looking to jump to AP English with only 3 weeks of class left. Book savant!! and oooooohh....do I see Kelly developing a nice eating disorder??!! YES!!) And here we have David in a studio for the first time, brought in by some producer who is sure they can spin gold with one of David's originals. which, upon playback, reveals the words to be thus:

Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.
Am I precious to you? You're so precious to me.

Wow. And, of course, there's the producer. "David, this is pure GOLD, baby!!!"








"Why yes, i DID write the words all by myself!!!"

Today's Metro Post

I don't spend a lot of time thinking about interior design. Shocker, I know. But I have (and the Barber too!) decided my tastes pretty much go perfectly with how the first astronauts homes woulda looked like. Wood paneling. Thick, shaggy carpet. Big patio with Hibachi and astroturf. More woodpaneling. Smoke from a pipe, tv/radio thing that takes up the room. Some sort of step in the living room, a landing that goes up to the bar. Maybe Neil Simon should design my house. And if all this was in a basement, I'd be even happier. And the outside has to be brick.

Pacman Fever

What a surprise…Pacman Jones, suspended by the NFL for a year, is putting out a hip hop cd. Is it the law that if black guy has money and 4 free hours, he has to put out a hip hop album? Let me guess, next week he will announce his own clothing line too. Shocker. Oh, and I see Pacman is singing about…stones, big money and cars...hmm. Gee, something really different. Thanks Pac!

But what this makes me think of is of course Ron Artest. Most people remember Artest’s fight at the Palace in 2004 –NBA player jumps into stands to fight, the world’s over we should all kill ourselves. Okay. But what got lost in that shuffle and what continues to both amaze me and crack me up is that earlier in the season, Artest had walked into his team’s offices and asked for a month off to promote a cd he had made for some girl group friends of his. The gumption and stupidity to walk in and ask for such a thing – Ron, my cap will always be doffed. Never forget, people!

What a Fucking Idiot

As I've said a thousand times before: when this administration took office, I expected to be screwed, deceived and lied to. But I did expect them to get shit done and to at least fool me in the process. Sell my soul and country to the devil, but at least do it without me realizing it. I did NOT expect the mind-numbing incompetence and stark, open stupidity. Selling our port security to the very people that Bush purports to wanting to follow us over here to blow us to bits comes to mind. Hmm.

No one is dumber than me. We know this. But even I, at the time, was stunned by Rumsfield waiting til AFTER the election to resign. I was shocked; why wouldn't he resign BEFORE, therein at least helping out his own party's candidates? A complete dumbass move, I remember thinking; shocked that those at the top could be so politically....well, dumb. Seriously dumb. Who was the wizard behind this one? These people can't even figure out the correct selfish political moves to help themselves out? Wtf?

And now this info comes out (via Andrew Sullivan.) I know I'm a broken record, but again, the sheer stupidy of such political timing. Unreal. Who's advising these people? Seriously, is it only a matter of time before Dubya proudly announces that he's put Bin Laden in charge of our airports? Then is SHOCKED at our chagrin of course. But then we are reminded of what might have been the downfall of this numbfuck's administration in the first place:

Unless you believe the account that Bush had NO IDEA that his Secretary of Defense had written him a letter before the election, it suggests that GWB didn’t want to accept the resignation because it would seem as if he was caving into his critics before an election. He wanted to appear steadfast. But after the election, when the enormity of his party’s loss and Karl Rove’s bad advance “math” became evident, he accepted it. So pride seemed to trump a wise policy (in this case political) decision.

Stupidity plus pride. what a combo. Feel good about this being our President's makeup?

Happy August 16

(This post was first posted exactly a year ago today. Thus making it the first ever "Xmastime Classic" post. Hmm. Like my hopes and dreams, sounds posthumous.)

August 16 has always been one of those “jump off the calander” dates for me, for many reasons. Babe Ruth, Elvis and Robert Johnson all died on August 16. The first Ramones show was on this date, and Pete Best was, as the Brits would say, “sacked” on August 16th. I just read that its Madonna’s birthday today, so we’ll see what “Her Genius” has in store for us today. Kathy Lee Gifford too, who I still wanna do. Whoa…Frank Gifford’s birfday too! Okay, now maybe I see why that kid is gonna be so creepy. Well, besides having a 90 year old father at your Little League games. But I also have personal reasons for always noticing August 16th.

1) August 16, 1989 - Bought my first car. Was a 1978 Ford Fiesta. I believe it was made out of Pepsi cans and…Diet Pepsi cans. Bought the thing for $400 from my friend Ryan, though I could have had it for $350 had my irrational fear of water not made me chicken out of riding on a jet ski. Of course I later found out that Ryan paid about ½ that when he bought it, but hey. I had some wheels. I remember it had an electric fuel pump, so it constantly made ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba sounds while I was cruising the strip for trim, and it also smelled like maple syrup. Well, maybe that was me. Amazingly enough, it had a sun roof. I have no idea how that came to be. Also a sound sytem that was worth WAY more than the car itself, complete with a separate equalizer. This was hot shit back in 1989, people. Also I managed to go about 8 months with no working tail lights or brake lights, which was overshadowed by the fact that my muffler was unattached on one end and was literally dragged around for about 2 months, sparks flying. Of course after I finally had it fixed my father casually mentioned that the sparks could’ve ingnited the gas tank and blown me to bits. Thanks pop! My girlfriend hated this car, she maybe rode in it twice. Which was great – I’d go to pick her up, start walking towards my car until I’d hear the inevitable “…ummm...let’s take my car.” Bling! That’s gas money in my pocket, which is no joke when you’re paying 96 cents a gallon and your car only gets 60 miles to the gallon, peeps!! Actually that was smart on her part, as it left more money for me to spoil her with at Pizza Hut. Smart girl (obviously – she dated me!!) On a side note, this reminds me that I probably paid for the cheapest prom dinner in history. All my friends chose some super-fancy French joint across the river called Windows. Great. I basically have to choose between dinner at this place or, you know, going to college. But I’m young, dumb and in love and this is where my girl wants to go, so I knock over a bunch of Girl Scouts during cookie season and we’re in. As for once God was smiling on me, it comes to be that this place is a seafood restaurant, so I’m off the hook – I hate seafood!!!! And through some other stroke of luck, my girlfriend isn’t in love with seafood either and ended up choosing some $4 shrimp appetizer thingee. “Keep the bread coming” I motioned to our waiter while my friends ordered clams casino scampi with extra saffron drizzle and sliced almond grenadine niblets in a pesto flecked with the earring Molly Ringwald gave Bender at the end of the Breakfast Club. My bill? $4.00!!!!!!! Of course God made sure my life still sucked by me not getting laid that night and sitting on and breaking the $75 pair of glasses that her mom had insisted on me buying before being entrusted with her Mercedes for the night. Ah well. I just noticed that if you quickly glance at them, can you tell the words “prom” and “porn” apart?

2) August 16, 1993 - I also bought my first real, new car on this date, a 1994 Jeep Cherokee. I don’t remember much about this one, but it did cart my ass back and forth between Tappahannock, VA and Oxford MS on many an occasion. When I left Oxford for the last time on my way to NYC via Tappahannock I had about $800 and a job waiting for me. I also had no car insurance, no tags, and an expired license. My plan was to park my car at home where no one would notice and then take care of all that shizzle later on, after I got settled in NYC etc. I somehow drove 1000 miles (in a driving rain, if I recall) without getting busted for these things listed above. I tucked the car off to the side of Rrthur’s house (yes ladies, THAT Rrthur!!) when I drove in at about 2am and figured I’d escape to NYC without anyone noticing, $800 and the big city ahead of me. Needless to say at 6am I was awoken by a furious Rrthur’s dad and next thing you know I’m at the DMV. Long story short, when I arrived in NYC the next day (January 1, 1998) I had $3 on me. And, just to make sure that NOTHING would go right for me, the guy that had hired me had completely forgetten about me and ta-da!! No job. I did get my last paycheck from Mississippi sent to me soon after though. You can imagine how that stacked up here in Brooklyn. A side note – I was down to my last $7, no job, wandering the streets of Brooklyn, where do I decide to say fuck it and cash in all my chips? That’s right - I could barely see the cashier through my salty tears and the greasy 4-inch thick bullet-proof glass as I laid down my fiver and 2 singles, but boy did them White Castles taste good.

3) August 16, 1995 – the day I moved to Oxford. How the fuck I stayed there for over 2 years is a mystery. I lived with Ryan in an apartment on Christman Drive; right next door to us were two typical Ole Miss frat fucks, but one interesting thing about them is that along with their two dogs, they had a pig. And, EXACTLY like that movie, the pig thought he was a dog, that he was “one of the guys.” Whenever I’d drive up the driveway, the 2 dogs would come tearing around the corner furiously to check out the action, and then….about 7 seconds later the pig would come chasing, belly swinging as he’d try to keep up, trying to look as angry as the dogs. “What the fuck’s up, guys!??!” Later in the evening I’d see them out in the yard trying to look like street toughs on a stoop, waiting for cars or people to come by to heckle, and you knew the pig was Horshack to the dogs’ Barbarino and Washington. Awesome. Another highlight from Oxford was Thanksgiving 1995. Ryan and I decided we were gonna stay in Oxford and make our own big Thanksgiving dinner. No, we’re not gay. Anyways we go to Kroger that morning to get everything, and as we’re about to check out I decide I should grab a case of beer. Since you couldn’t buy beer cold in Oxford, you kinda had to plan ahead. So I come strolling up with a case and Ryan FLIPS out, yelling at me for wanting to get shit-faced for Thanksgiving Dinner. No, we’re not gay. I try to explain to him I wasn’t gonna pound it when we got home and piss all over the Pilgrims, I was just gonna have it in the fridge for later on. Doesn’t matter, he’s furious, BOOM!! We don’t say one single word to each other after that. We go through the machinations of making a huge Thanksgiving Dinner, sit down and eat it…all while aggressively not speaking to each other. No, we’re not gay. And, even better, we filmed the whole fucking thing for some reason. It’s all on videotape. You see us silently making this huge dinner, silently eating it. Our silence does not end then; it goes on for 2 solid weeks. For two weeks we pass by each other wordlessly, live next to each other in total silence. The type of simmering rage you can only have for your best friend, I suppose. No, we’re not gay. Finally at the end of two weeks I’m sitting on the couch in the living room and he strolls in to the kitchen and grabs a box of cookies. I’m not paying attention, but because of my 14-day seething rage I can tell he’s looking in the box and strapping on his “I’m fucking incredulous!!” face. Then he does the ol’ look into the box-look up at me – look back into the box – look up at me routine.

“What?” (heeey…I broke the silence!! hooray!!)
“You ate my fucking cookies!!!!”
“What?”
“You ate all my fucking cookies you fucking shit!!!” (box thrown on the floor)
‘What the – shut the fuck up, I didn’t eat you precious fucking cookies!”
“You ate my fucking cookies!!”
“I did not eat your fucking cookies fuck you!!!!”
“You fucking shit!”
“Yeah, I got your cookies, ate them all, closed the EMPTY box up, carefully put them back on the shelf and chuckled ‘ooooh, he’ll never suspect a thing!!!!’!! fucking dumbass!!!”

This went on, screaming for 2 more minutes. Finally I stormed off to my room with a big “fuck you!!” and slammed my door. After about a 10 second pause I opened the door, saw him standing in the living room and shouted “You know what? Yeah, I ate your fucking cookies! And guess what – they were fucking AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” slam!!!

This of course was so ridiculous that within minutes we were on the floor laughing at our our ridiculousness. Rolling on the floor, entwined with each other in our youthfulness, young skin on young skin as we suckled each other’s neck. Okay, that was gay.

It’s been almost 11 years and Ryan, and I can confess…I have no idea what happened to your fucking cookies.

4) August 16, 1997 – the day my first girlfriend got married. Sigh. Woke up, had a bottle of gin waiting for me, guzzled. Not that it was any loss or whatever – we see each other like once every two years, we were just kids etc but I guess you gotta mourn a bit when your first love gets married; you gotta give them that much respect. I assume after I get married she’ll do the same for me. Well, if her husband gives her the go-ahead. And if she remembers I’m alive.

So Happy August 16th peoples! Maybe something noteworthy will happen today.

"Hot Women and Hideous Men" Slideshow

Was fired up/hopeful bout this list. Til I actually, you know...saw it. Turns out all the "hideous" men are also "rich" and "famous." And maybe their version of hideous is different than mine...John Stamos? I don't think of him as "hideous." And Ritchie Sambora, maybe the world's biggest idiot, isn't exactly repulsive. Ah well.

Oops, We...aw fuck it.

This, to me, is a huge part of why America sucks more and more by the second. We allow celebrity magazines and celeb gossip to rule our lives so much that we actually feel it's our right to have private documents opened to us. It's scary enuff that idiots like you or me might fall into this - but the fucking courts? Are you kidding me? Beyond disgraceful; another newsclip for people in other countries to shake their hands at what idiots we've become. Nobody more than me would like to hear accounts of Britney mixing jello with her titties while yelling at her kids - but for the courts to turn over such info? It's an embarrassment. Are we only months away from the Supreme Court having it's own reality show on MTV? Has celebrity gossip officially trumped one of the branches of our fucking government? Why not have the papparrazzi vote along with Congress from now on?

Why not insist that we can look at celebrities bank accounts? Their medical records? We hide behind this "oh, they're public figures, its okay" nonsense because we are simply gossip hounds. I jerk off to Brit in InTouch, so I should know her childrens' school adrress. I think Dennis Miller, back when he was almost funny, said it best when he said we have turned into a nation of Gladys Kravitz.'

But then again, I guess it makes a bit of sense, our feeling we have a right to be privy to such things when we ourselves have rolled over and had our bellies scratched so easily when the Administration has repeatedly insisted on over-reaching it's wiretapping policies on us. We've become so numb and dumb to giving away our own civil liberties, why WOULDN'T we feel perfectly in line with being allowed to crack open a celeb's court documents? Apparently civil rights don't apply if the court deems the facts to be "juicy." And, of course, that's okay by us cause we insist on being fucking idiots.

The Next Decade

Oh, grrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaat.

Child Poverty? Wtf?

In 1999, Tony Blair announced a 20-year goal to end child poverty in Great Britain and he has already reduced child poverty by 17 percent [Washington Post, 4/3/2006].

Sounds a little odd when you see it in print, doesn't it? "Child poverty." Maybe we can work on "Child Unemployment"? I understand orphanages et al; but wouldn’t all the other poor children be tied into their parents’ poverty? How can these be separated – are there parents rolling their eyes “His father and I made $670,000 last year but Timmy, I mean look at him…lives in filth, has no money…what’s he eating, a pine cone?…he's 8 years old for chrissake, it’s embarrassing! GET A JOB, LOSER!!!”

Hey, Remember that Track Movie with Ricky Shroeder and Brad Pitt?

Now, watching that flick was torture. But is this REALLY “torture”? I mean, I don’t wanna be heartless here, but…the kid actually did it. Kid ran 40 miles!!! You could ply off my fingernails, clip electrodes to my balls and make me listen to the Doors, my big ass isn’t running 40 miles.

Plus, my Xmas-sense is tingling after reading that the mother is grumbling that she’s not getting enough of a cut from the boys’ winnings – perhaps more of a crime than torture to a woman who had TA-DA!!....tried to sell the boy herself for $15. Hmm.

Let the boy run! Hell, being pushed/slightly tortured with a potential payoff of fame and money seems a lot better than sitting around the house waiting for mom to sell you, no? And hell, in an emergency, if any kid in the world can run away from home, wouldn’t it be this one?

Let the boy run!!

Vick and Dogs

Dogs are an emotional, hot-button issue. We all love dogs. I love dogs. We hear about a mistreated dog, we go crazy. We have had exactly one official protestor of the Iraq War, but thousands of people were poised like locusts to descend upon Falcons' practice if Vick had been there. Pretend wars we're okay with, lying politicans we laugh with, oil companies screwing us is cool and genocide in Darfur, can't be bothered. But dogs? Hold up!!

Obviously what Michael Vick has been doing is horrible. But boy, I just saw that he could conceivably serve up to 20 years in prison. 20 years! He's prolly gonna hafta plea bargain to get it down to one year. I don't have all the facts of the case, I don't know what's right or wrong, but could you really imagine pulling the trigger on sending someone away for years because of dogs? I know I'm heartless because dogs are even more important than people, everyone will scream at me. I know, I know. Vick deserves to be punished. But after years of being led around by our emotions like 6 year-old schoolgirls about every issue under the sun, I'm hoping we can start the long climb back to rationale and reason with a case that at least doesn't have HUMAN victims. Take a breath.

The Ramones Ears are Burning

Boy, it'll be a crime if John Tuturro doesn't win an Emmy for his Billy Martin in The Bronx is Burning. Awesome. I like the guy playing Reggie too. Oliver Platt, whom I love, is still over the top for me as the Big Stein.

But it's funny how the soundtrack to the whole thing is the Ramones. Now, they're my favorite band of all time and anytime their cuts can get some screen time I'm in. so I'm not complaining. And it somehow fits the heat of the time. But are we supposed to think that everyone in the city was cranking the Ramones that summer? Everytime Son of Sam approaches a car of young lovebirds, they're listening to a Ramones tape. Doubtful. Oh sure, NOW everyone has their copy of their Greatest Hits, but back in 1977 Joe Q. Schoolkid was not buying the albums. Revisionist hipper than hip history. Though it is funny how dead on they try to be with the choices....Reggie benched by Billy and forced to suck it up and cheer his teammates? Bam! "Swallow My Pride" makes what has to be it's tv debut. Big clubhouse celebratory ass-slapping after the big win? "We're a Happy Family." Cracks me up.

















"This one goes out to Mickey Rivers take it Dee Dee!!!"

Even the Cancer Kids are Fucking Chowderheads!!!

(from deadspin.com)



Fucking Sox fans. Jesus Christ, kid, you've got cancer!! Calm the fuck down!!

...and you KNOW the reporter is a Mrs. Xmastime. Would lick the kid's bald head to peep them titties.

PS - is it just me, or does it look like at the VERY last second the kid reaches to grab this bitch's throat? Wow.

Baseball and The Scooter

While obviously I’m saddened to hear the Scooter has died, nothing gets me more than when old-timers come around to tell stories about fellow ballplayers. Could listen for hours; days and weeks even. Nogthing else I'd rather be doing, almost. The stories are boyish and unending, like we all wish our own lives were. While it’s not about Scooter himself, right before I heard about him dying I was sitting on the bowl flipping though Ball Four for the 17000the time and came upon one of my favorite parts, Bouton pitching with Joe Pepitone playing first base:

In the 1964 World Series with Lou Brock on first base, I gave the pick-off sign to Pepi when I took my stretch position and looked over toward first, he was standing there shaking his head, tiny shakes because he didn’t want anyone to see. It was the first time I had ever seen anyone shake off a pick-off sign. It was in the 1964 World Series that he had lost a throw from third base in the shirts in the crowd and was the goat of the game. Now he didn’t want to handle the ball any more than he had to. Just for the hell of it, I gave him the sign again a few pitches later. I wanted to see if he’d shake me off again. He did.

Francessa just waxed it best on the radio: baseball unfolds like a novel.

Which Book Am I?

According to this book test, I'm a fuzzy, cuddly bloody rabbit. Great.

You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.

People I'm Always Surprised are Still Alive

John Wooden - everytime he pops up onscreen I'm shocked. Didn't he die in 1975? Jesus. Was an All-American back when it was called All-Colonies. beeeeeeeeeeeeep. Has forgotten more basketball than you'll ever know. And probably everything else.

Bill Gallo - everyday when I see one of his cartoons in the Daily News I automatically assume it's a "classic" from the 50's. The 1850s. Always slightly shocked when it's a drawing of Jeter. This guy is so old he still thinks boxing is a sport for chrissake.

Walter Cronkite - Took over the news from Gutenberg; looked 85 the day he reported JFK's assassination. Lincoln had a secretary named Kennedy and Kennedy had a secretary named Lincoln and Cronkite tea-bagged 'em both.

C. Everett Koop and Ralph Nader - not necessarily cause they're that old, but can anyone alive remember not knowing these names? Jesus. Was Nader 11 when he warned about the dangers of the horseless carriage?

Fidel Castro - good lord. Dude took over when Ike was President; always slightly surprised when he pops on the tv screen. This mf has ruled a country longer than Hawaii has been a state (and missed out by a month on Alaska.) Living proof that time may heal all wounds, but it don't heal ugly.

Bob Shepherd - has been the announcer at Yankee Stadium since 1951. How is it possible that someone who was the announcer during Mickey Mantle's rookie season is not only still alive, but still working? Jesus. This guy has called out more ballplayer's names than Alyssa Milano. He's old.

It Never Ends

For reasons unknown, when I woke up today my knee was killing me. AND my hammy was screaming. Apparently I entered a long jump contest last night and just don't remember it. Dragged my ass downstairs and parked myself at the counter for three hours. Miserable. Every angle, every way I held my leg, shit was killing me. Finally I’m like hey, I should move over to the living room in the big fat recliner. Put my leg up. I drag myself over, carrying this laptop and my cellie. Figuring once I get settled, I’ll have everything I need within reach, and will be able to keep my leg elevated.

So I get to the recliner and see that the electric cord for the laptop ain’t gonna reach the nearest outlet. “Well” I decide oh so brilliantly “better take care of this now, I don’t wanna get settled in and then hafta get up in an hour cause the battery’s dead.” So I put the shit down and move the recliner. Which was zero fun with my bum knee. So I’m finally done wrestling with the mf and plop down, relieved. Settled in and got my laptop, tv, and phone. Which, on cue, starts ringing…about 8 feet away, where I had set it down. Fuuuuuck!!!! I debate getting up. Who the fuck’s calling me in the middle of the day? All my friends are at work. I bet it’s a fucking 800 number, I decide. I finally got my leg up, I ain’t getting up just cause I left my phone out of reach. Of course as the minutes go by, it starts driving me crazy…who was it? Maybe it’s important?

Side note: I have had exactly two important phone calls in my life. The first was my brother calling me and telling me the Bojangles in Charlottesville had closed down, and the other when my girlfriend called me in tears, crazy in love cause our song "I Melt with You" had come on the radio, a "long distance dedication to the love of my life from Tappahannock." Of course I played along that it was me who had called (it wasn't.) Her ensuing shows of appreciation of course allowed me to convince myself I did the right thing. Baby, if you ever read this....sorry!

So now I gotta get up or else I’ll give myself a cranial hernia. Surely this is the phone call from Judith Light I've been waiting for - she's at NASA, needs some piece of expertise that only I have to save the Earth, and then wants to let me rummage thru her tongety tong-tong drawer. I put the laptop down, gingerly collapse the footrest on the recliner with my one good leg, and slowly stand up. Much, much pain. I curse my way over to the phone, grab it and VOILA!!!! 1-877-xxxxxxx. Fuuuuuuck!!!!

I growl, bitch at myself that “i KNEW it, goddammit! And start the shuffle back to my chair. I calm myself down by saying well, least now I got my fucking phone. Won’t happen again. Fall back into chair, prop leg up, take a breath. Lappity-lap-top back in my lap, ready to relax and enjoy my afternoon. Grab the remote which, I must pat myself on the back, I had had the foresight to make sure was laying on the chair before I sat back down. Now I can watch my stories, google Kim Kardashian images and receive fone calls from my bizz-otches. Pick up the remote, click on the tv and……FUUUUUCK!!! Wrong remote for this tv. I hafta fucking start the whole gotdam thing over again, finding the right remote. Happy fucking day.

The Hills.

Out of loyalty to my new girl LC, I'm trying to sit through an episode of "The Hills." Cannot do it. I guess I'm about 400 episodes behind and have no idea who's who or the backstories. All I can tell so far is all the titties are big and fake, the boyfriends are amazingly stupid and the girls are even dumber for having said boyfriends. But luckily everyone is filthy rich, so that makes it all okay.

But one thing I've noticed is whenever these girls run into each other, they always say that the other is pretty. It's their version of "hello." "Hey!...oh, you look so pretty." "Thanks! You're pretty too!" Every time. Dudes don't do this. We don't greet each other by remarking on looks. "Ronnie, you're so handsome today!" "Shit thanks Dan, you look cute too." Do girls always do this in real life? Have I just never noticed? Very interesting. ah, MTV reality shows: always teaching.

With Apologies to Shauvon's Outrageous Titties...

...I gotta say, Parisa might be in my top 3 Real World Ladies of all time. Long with last year's Colie and that horse-faced tramp in Chicago in 2001 that fucked every dude that walked into town. We'll see how it goes. Parisa - don't blow your big chance, baby!!!














ooooooooohhh....almost forgot my girl Svetlana! Gotdam, sorry darlin!!

This List is Getting Bigger, Isn't It?

And while we’re at it, can we all stop pretending to take Illegal Immigration seriously? I mean, for all the daily screeds and panic we’re getting re “Oh my god, illegal immigration is tearing apart the fabric of America, destroying us!!!”, the best that these think tanks can come up with to solve the biggest problem in the country is…building a wall? LITERALLY building a wall? That’s it? That’s vision? That’s wisdom? And let’s not even build a full wall; let’s build it a third of the size it needs to be and leave it at that. What do these people think they’re doing, amassing troops to go to war?

Isn’t Bush the #1 Acolyte of Reagan, Mr. “Tear Down this Wall”? This is the best we can come up with? This is like deciding to solve world hunger by giving everybody a sandwich. Unbelievable. Don’t ask me to take this issue seriously if your big solution is Lego blocks.

Hypocrisy, Vol. MMMDCLVII

It’s officially time to stop taking this war seriously, now that apparently there are as many hired guns as US soldiers fighting it (see here and here.) So for all the talk about “America” and “freedom” and “moral duty” blah blah blah, Americans could give a shit about signing up to fight it and, of course, the government isn’t really pushing to make it happen, are they? Nyet. Not exactly post-Pearl Harbor scenes of men lining up for blocks to enlist. We the people have shown we’re not interested in this war by 1) not signing up to fight it and 2) firing a chunk of Congress to get us out. Does Bush listen? No – there’s money to be made for chrissake! And of course the Democrats are too pussy to stand up to this and insist on pulling out. So in typical Bush Admin fashion they have even outsourced of all things war to TA-DA!!!!....corporations. Hmm. That’s a mystery, innit? It’s as if this whole thing was created to make the same 7 people even richer…but that can’t be, right?

“This is not the coalition of the willing. It's the coalition of the billing."

I can’t recall the movie, but there’s some scene where one guy says to another “You know what they call a leader with no followers? Just a guy going for a walk.” (or was it The West Wing???) This war has officially become the birthday party wherein you hafta pay strangers to come cause you have no friends. Kinda sad. So let’s stop pretending to wave the flag, I don’t wanna hear anymore anecdotal emotional bleating about the troops et al. I don’t wanna hear about freedom or democracy blah blah blah….this “war” is quite simply an exercise to make corporations even richer, and you’re a sucker if you make this “war” any more important than any other issue that means anything to you. People are dying because we’ve let ourselves become vulnerable to plays on our emotions - if we’re going to have our Presidents playing pretend-war with people like they’re little plastic green men, at least force him/her to give us something on the other end (civil rights, healthcare et al) while they’re in the play-room gleefully clapping “boom! Boom!”

I Yearn

Definitely my all-time George and Kramer scene. Top 3 scenes of all time. And that's that for the Seinfeld clips here. For now.

Bulimic? Anorexic? Daddy Never Loved You? Send a Picture to XMASTIME!!!!

Been watching "Beverly Hills 90210." Seriously, can we get through an episode without a ridiculously hot girl having her self-esteem stripped to zero, seeing only her "trouble spots" in the mirror? And where are these women in real life? I'm always hearing about these women, "oh yeah Lisa, she's model-gorgeous, but has no self esteem and is dating a 5'6" dude who is bald and lives on his parents couch. Poor thing." What? Where's my Lisa? Every woman I've ever met is stridently confidant, brazen and full of esteem. Where can I find a woman who is ridiculously hot yet believes she deserves only the dregs of society; LUCKY I am talking to her?!?? Jeez. These women are like the fucking killer bees, I always hear about 'em but they never show up. Camon! Hot chick with no self esteem? Might be even better than my hot disabled chick dream. I just gotta find her (them.)

Taunting the Big Fellah!!

While down in Cape Hatteras this past week I noticed a high school whole team name was "The Hurricanes." Glib irreverance or taunting? Like a school in Kansas called "The Twisters", or an inner-city black school called "The White Voters." If there is a God, I would think eventually he'd notice this school and be like 'oh yeah? eff you!" and send in Hurricane....hurricane whatever; didn't I have a riff months back about hurricane names? Anyways. And yes, I now await the inevitable Catholic school sex abuse names.

The Best Seinfeld Scene?

Though inconcievable that the funniest scene could be without George, I'm thinking this is the funniest Seinfeld scene ever. Am I wrong?

Click

Kicking off with Tracey Ullman (below) I was treated to a spate of love songs tonite. I heard them all….Ullman’s bad-boy eff you to the world, the Beatles holding hands and even Toby Keith’s strike back at high school unrequited love. All of a sudden it dawned on me: I don’t believe them. I have officially become so alone and jaded that I cannot possibly believe that such songs could exist for any reason other than “well, it rhymes.” I’m listening and I’m like I dunno, I just don’t get it….being that in love, having it such a huge part of your life? No. I just can’t see it anymore. Life is tuff enough. Every fucking step is a battle, and by the end of the day it’s all a collection of trees on the sidewalks, deep breaths and diet sodas. Now I hear this stuff, and right now it just rings false. Couple kissing on the street? I don’t believe it. Get married, birth a Pop Warner team, renew your vows, I do not believe it. I can not wrap my heart around anyone feeling that way. I know I may be wrong, but that’s that.

Maybe other love too. I’m not a father but I’ve got some young bucks for whom I would throw myself in front of a bus, my heart bursting for them to be great young men. But so what? Soon as they get old enough, I’m just another old dude that’s friends with their parents. Someone else to roll their eyes at while I prattle on about their high school football clippings. Just the way it goes, I reckon. I assume my parents loved me, but at no time did I dance around my room dancing and singing “yes yes yes, mom and dad love me, it’s great!” I’m sure like any other youngster all I could think of was “how can I get these two people on the Space Shuttle?”

The point is, it’s all passing me by…I’m watching people my age do things I thought we were too young for – have families, houses, businesses et al. All while I’m sitting here staring at the wall. Thoughts smack though my head like I’m running through trees but I just sit, numb. And probably dumb. I feel like I missed the day where they explain everything to you; I was in the pisser while they gave all the important info out. In one day they explained love, careers and success; I missed that one but of course I know all the state capitals. And to top it off I appear dead set on setting the record for misplaced semi-colons. Great.

About ten years ago I read a poem – I can’t remember the poem, or who wrote it. But I remember the author saying something about waiting for one picture to come, one photo that was going to bring his life into focus and make all the difference. Somehow I’ve remembered that and it’s gnawed at me. I’ve always teetered between that sentiment and the feeling that I’m setting myself up for even more disaster. But I can't help but feel it right now, that there’s one single thing that’s going to come into my life and give it air, give it purpose. Just one fucking thing. One moment. That’s what I am doing, waiting for that one thing in my life that will make all the difference.

Should've Been in My Top 50

Hell, top 10. are these the greatest use of backups in rock ever? If not, I'd love to see what's better...and Macca showing up at the end, icing on the cake.

Too Soon?

Stumbled across another article on CNN re: the bridge tragedy in Minneapolis. Was accompanied by this picture.















Am I out of bounds here, or....does this picture look like it's made out of Legos? Is this a fake, a diorama, or what? wtf? Does this picture even look real to you people?

I Had a Slight Diversion, but I'm Back I'm Back I'm Back I'm Back

Just got back from the beach. Amazing week of friends and family. Looking round the easternets, I'm struck by the surprise that I didn't really miss much. what do you know. anyways, I'm back!

7-Letter Word for Idiot

Coupla days ago I sat down on the train and started working on my crossword puzzle. We're gliding along and then at a stop this ridiculously hot chick gets on and sits down right across from me. I tried not to ogle as I went back to my crossword. After a minute or so I realized oh shit, I hadn't filled in any letters, I wasn't writing anything. I panicked; instantly thinking shit, she KNOWS I'm just staring at the puzzle like a fucking idiot, she's thinking I'm a complete retard!! and this is the Daily News puzzle, it's not fucking rocket science. I desperately searched for a clue I would know the answer to. Nothing. And I know she's looking and I know that if only I could answer a bunch quickly, she'd realize I'm a genius, tear of her shiny purple blouse and I'd be all up in there. Then it dawns on me...she can't see WHAT I'm writing; she can only see THAT I'm writing!! So BAM!! I take my pen and just start writing, filling in squares with whatever letters or words I wanted; sometimes pausing briefly to act like I was thinking, then jotting it down. Brow furrowed. This is brilliant I chuckled to myself, wondering if she'll want our kids to go to private school. I could tell she was tres impressed as I kept "answering"; A C G G T T T E R and on.

Of course. She eventually got up, walked off the train without so much as looking at me. Prolly hadn't even known I was there in the first place, much less how I was doing at my fucking crossword. Ah well. Here's to quick thinking for chicks (clink!)

Barry's Bomb

Why is it a big deal if you happen to be the pitcher that gives up Barry's record-breaking dinger? Yes, you'll be linked in history...would anyone ever know who Al Downing was if he hadn't given up Hank's record breaker? But so what - do they think people are gonna see the film and think "gee, who was THAT pitcher...he must've sucked!!" Hey, you're a big league pitcher, no one's saying you gave up ALL of Barry's homers! Just happened to give up the one. So calm down. You've given up many, many bombs in your career. And seriously, what's the word on my idea for dudes being able to buy fake titties just to have around coming along? Titties on plyboard. Who'd I put on that?

The Subway

Wouldn't it be cool if like once a month everybody had to wear t-shirts that designated the train they take every morning? Grey shirt for the L, green for 4,5,6 etc. Be cool, right? Walking down the street, see an orange tee, you can bond with a stranger. "Alright, F-train!" high five. Just a thought.

LC + Xmastime =.......well, prolly jailtime....

Never really wrapped my head round who was who on Laguna Beach, but recent photos over the week have led to big crush on LC. Mmmm. Smitten...lookin to be gettin....in that dick mittin...hopin that I'm fittin...but even if I di'in...you know that I'd be hittin...her shitbox with a shoehorn. BAM!

God I Hate Your List

GodIHateYourBand has priviliged us with his top fitty list. Is that the right use of "priviliged"? Prolly not. I was gonna go track by track and explain why GIHYB is an idiot, but who has time for that - my chicken mcnugget/stovetop/mayo sammich isnt gonna make itself. The UG chimes in here. And yes, I had to look up "ephemeral." A revisit to my list here. And sometime this century I guess the offical Top 100 list will be posted.

Cops and Heads

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 his hair is the cleanest thing in the world. And why do they do this anyway? All I ever heard from my mother growing up was "oh, will you just get in the goddam car!?!?!" But a cop, after chasing you down, tackling you and beating you with a stick oh-so-carefully escorts you into the car, delicately making sure your precious head doesn't, god forbid, bump the top of the door. wtf.

Tuff to Be Healthy Round these Fuckers

One thing about hanging out with a bunch of 1 to 2 year olds is you eat a lot of shit. No, not literally. Right now they're all at the stage where they're learning about sharing. So one will have a bag of, say, Goldfish. Now his little mitt is holding one out to you, so you take it, say "thank you!" and eat it. So now he's all excited that you took it, and grabs another one. Next thing you know, you've eaten half the bag, gettin a faux-powdered cheese buzz on and standing in the baking heat feeling like a grizzly bear who just got a dart stuck in his neck. Cause the kid isn't gonna understand "no thanks, I don't want one, let's get back to working on you 'accidently' pulling mama's shirt up." So they keep coming. The other day I got a whole gang shoveling shit at me; finally I did the ol'fake eating/chuck it behind my head. Of course the kid saw it, freaked out, and there's our guy Xmastime picking up a fucking gummi bear thing off the goddam playground and having to make a big show of eating it. Thanks, lil guys!















"Hahahaha!!! Eat shit, you fucking Xmas douche!!!!"