On Politics

Get the pitchforks ready for some...

2011-01-31T16:43:00.001-05:00

To Mrs. McGrath’s Second Grade Class,

2010-12-28T15:21:00.004-05:00

Hello. My name is Kang-dae Soon, head programmer for the Engkey robotic teaching device.
I have been asked to clear up some confusion surrounding a recent visit from a malfunctioning Engkey unit to the Lower Grockney School District during a good-will tour from a South Korean elementary school.
Due to a very minor glitch in the translating device that has since been corrected, Engkey made several statements which we would like to correct or otherwise retract, as they do not represent the programmer’s viewpoint or those of Engkey’s parent company, Tyrell Corporation.
Firstly, please allow me to say that Santa Claus is not depicted in Korea as “a many-tentacled horror beyond the limits of human comprehension” and obviously never should have been described as such.
Santa Claus is the same here as anywhere: A walking diabetes risk representing the excesses of Western consumer culture who lives on the moon with a horde of elven slaves.
However, we understand the mistranslation led to a certain amount of consternation among parents and wish to apologize for any night terrors, booby-traps or institutionalizations this might have caused.
(I would additionally stress that other concepts of “Ol’ Saint Nick” described to the class – such as the Norse “Mojlin’ra, Chewer of Souls” – should likewise be discounted as a translating error.)
Allow me also to apologize for any instances of casual racism, profuse swearing or theft that occurred while Engkey was visiting the children. These tendencies commonly manifested as bugs in earlier versions of the robot and were supposed to have been eliminated from later models.
It might seem a small consolation, but please take heart that other bugs – such as routine sexual harassment and protests ending in self-immolation – appear to have been wiped from the operating system (with up to 73 percent efficiency).
It has additionally come to my attention that there was some confusion about Engkey’s answers to mathematics questions. Obviously, projectile vomiting a black, poisonous fluid into the questioner’s face is neither amusing nor technically an answer, and the robot should not have laughed at its victims' reactions to the viscous fluid while taunting the other children with a sharp stick. This was a holdover response from an earlier prototype of the Engkey designed for military use.
Unfortunately, the weaponized anthrax canisters housed in the robot’s chassis were also still set to release upon a specific trigger phrase. In hindsight, that phrase probably should not have been, “Are you a real robot?” (especially taking into consideration the penchant of American children to ask horrendously stupid questions). But as they say, hindsight is 20/20 – which is coincidentally the kill-rate for Engkey robotic military devices.
I would also like to apologize for the wholly unintended response to history questions. When asked about a specific historical figure or event, the robot should offer a helpful hint to guide the child to a correct answer, rather than a violent and profanity-laced tirade about the Japanese stock market. Any semi-cogent diatribes on the societal benefits of cannibalism should likewise be dismissed.
We would additionally like to take this opportunity to extend our deepest condolences on the tragic and unexpected vivisection of the class guinea pig, “Burrito,” during a biology lesson.
Obviously, the creature should have been euthanized prior to the demonstration and, again, we apologize for any nightmares the animal’s screaming and thrashing may have caused.
As to any instances of Engkey teaching children Three-card Monte, pick-pocket skills and/or dirty limericks, rest assured those traits have been eliminated from the programming (with up to 67 percent efficiency).
On behalf of all of us here at Tyrell Corp., I would like to thank Mrs. McGrath’s class, as well as the patient and understanding parents of the Lower Grockney School District, for assisting us in field testing the Engkey robotic teaching device.
Please rest assured each of the many, many deaths strewn in the wake of Engkey development is not in vein, as each “teaching moment” offers ever more insight toward a human-robot utopia we all one day hope to reach.
Yours truly,
Kang-dae Soon,
Tyrell Corp. Robotic Division
Head Programmer, Engkey Teaching Robot
PS. As per the settlement agreement, we would remind all of you that speaking with the press is strictly forbidden and would also like to stress that you are all damn lucky the unit did not become self aware. You’d still be picking pieces of your principal out of your hair and carpeting.

We all saw it coming...

2010-12-07T13:14:00.004-05:00

but honestly, how can you be this bad at negotiating?
Still, there's good news for those who saw this coming!
(Seriously, the ship is sinking for everyone who doesn't have a portfolio, get out while you can.)

Guess who learned how to strikethrough

2010-12-03T17:54:00.003-05:00

On Friday, President Barack Obama made the first nine pardons of his presidency. Among them was one for Ronald Lee Foster, of Beaver Falls, Pa., who was sentenced in 1963 to a year of probation and a $20 fine for mutilating coins.
Anticipated response from GOP Chairman Michael Steele:
"It is unconscionable that the president would pardon a man charged with ~~desecrating~~ mutilating our ~~God~~ currency at a time when the U.S. is reeling from staggering deficits that threaten the very ~~new speedboats for CEOs~~ fabric of the American dream! But rest assured you can always count on real Americans in the Republican Party to ~~give massive tax breaks to the wealthy~~ save small business while simultaneously ~~denying much needed unemployment benefits to the poor~~ blocking super scaaaary ~~common sense~~ socialist policies that are threatening our very ~~corporatist favoritism~~ freedoms!"

("Be sure to spend your tax cuts on foreign-made goods - that's the best way to stimulate the U.S. economy," he was later heard to say. "Woot! 'Merica!," he added .)

Deathpanel!

2010-11-17T17:45:00.002-05:00

Deathpanel! Deathpanel! Deathpanel!
Have fun smoking weed until your heart explodes, I guess.

Serious Ads for Serious People

2010-10-12T12:43:00.003-04:00

With political TV ads running approximately every 12 seconds for the past 32 months straight, I'm worried some people might begin to get burned out and lose sight of what is really at stake in this election - namely, my ability to make fun of Christine O'Donnell.
With that in mind, here are a few spec scripts for spots I'd like to see running before we wrap this particularly hilarious installment in national politics:

Voiceover: Joe Sestak claims to like toast…
Image: Sestak seated at a Congressional Breakfast table.
VO: So why, during a recent campaign stop at the Nowheresville Café in central Pennsylvania, did he ask if he could substitute a bagel with his breakfast order?
Image: Close-up of a bagel with cream cheese; image colors suddenly invert with scary “Psycho” sounding music.
VO: Joe Sestak. Wrong on toast. Wrong for America.

–Paid for by Republicans for Voldemort

Voiceover: Pat Toomey says he isn’t extreme…
Image: Toomey smiling serenely into the camera.
VO: So why does he regularly jump dirt bikes through flaming hoops suspended over tanks of alligators while drinking Mountain Dew?
Image: Mountain Dew can; image colors suddenly invert with scary “Psycho” style music. Can explodes.
VO: Pat Toomey? More like Pat TooExtremeforPennsylvaniamey.

–Paid for by American Americans for ‘Mercia.

Voiceover: Democrat Dan Onorato hails from Allegheny County, home of the Pittsburgh Steelers NFL team, who have won a record six NFL championships.
Image: Steelers celebrating latest Super Bowl victory in slow motion; image colors suddenly invert. Steelers explode.
VO: Screw that. E-A-G-L-E-S Eagles!

–Paid for by Eagles Head Coach Andy Reid

Voiceover: Tom Corbett’s hair.
Image: Close-up of Tom Corbett’s hair.
VO: No.

–Paid for by freedomarecountry.org.

Voiceover: Joe Sestak likes to borrow combs from his co-workers.
Image: Sestak combing his hair while preparing for his 8,756th television appearance this year.
VO: But Sestak almost always forgets to return the combs to their proper owners. Or maybe he doesn’t forget at all. Maybe he just wants the combs for himself.
Image: Newspaper headline reading, “Joe’s Comb Fiasco.”
VO: Joe Sestak. Too many combs. Not enough answers.

–Paid for by Bald Americans for a Bald America PAC

Voiceover: If Pat Toomey hates aliens so much, why is he working with the lizard people from the 12th dimension?
Image: Photograph of what appears to be either the Loch Ness Monster shaking hands with Toomey and Grigori Rasputin, or a weather balloon.
VO: We’re through the looking glass, here, Pat.

–Paid for by crackpots.bigfoot.gov.

Why

2010-09-10T15:52:00.001-04:00

does Zack always beat me to writing these things? That hilarious jerk.

Hey baby, wanna kill all humans?

2010-09-02T14:14:00.004-04:00

So this is apparently a list of demands totally rational person James Lee made of the Discovery Channel yesterday at the network's Delaware offices before a police sniper turned Lee into something Mike Rowe has to clean up.
Granted it is actually a list of Lee's demands (which is debatable - it is far better written than most of the insane gibberish we usually receive here) it essentially boils down to "two legs bad, four legs good."
Still, Lee does make some compelling arguments about how filthy babies are. I mean, let's face it - those things don't even use toilets. It's pretty gross.
Anyway, here are some of my favorite bits, for those who don't like actually reading things (I'm looking at you, Delco):

"All programs on Discovery Health-TLC must stop encouraging the birth of any more parasitic human infants and the false heroics behind those actions."
(Because squeezing out a bunch of parasites is so often linked to saving people from burning buildings.)

"Civilization must be exposed for the filth it is. That, and all its disgusting religious-cultural roots and greed. Broadcast this message until the pollution in the planet is reversed and the human population goes down! This is your obligation. If you think it isn't, then get hell off the planet! Breathe Oil! It is the moral obligation of everyone living otherwise what good are they??"
(Last two lines brought to you by your friends at British Petroleum. Now get the hell offa mah planet!)

"Develop shows that will correct and dismantle the dangerous US world economy. Find solutions for their disasterous (sic) Ponzi-Casino economy before they take the world to another nuclear war."
(Damn straight. We're still drying out from the last nuclear war, we don't need another one already. Also, fix the economy, Discovery Channel. It is your moral imperative!)

"You're also going to find solutions for unemployment and housing."
(JUST DO IT ALREADY, STUPID!)

"Find ways so that people don't build more housing pollution which destroys the environment to make way for more human filth!"
(Yeah, no more housing! But find housing solutions! But also screw humans! Wait ...)

"Saving the environment and the remaning (sic) species diversity of the planet is now your mindset. Nothing is more important than saving them. The Lions, Tigers, Giraffes, Elephants, Froggies, Turtles, Apes, Raccoons, Beetles, Ants, Sharks, Bears, and, of course, the Squirrels."
(Well of course the squirrels.)

"These are the demands and sayings of Lee."
(COME TO ME, SON OF JOR-EL! KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!)

When people ask me why I hate politics

2010-08-06T14:00:00.000-04:00

from now on, I'll just tell them to read this.

Ok...

2010-07-05T13:20:00.002-04:00

So maybe The Last Airbender wasn't the best movie, but at least it wasn't so bad that people actually die from watching it.

On offergate

2010-05-28T16:32:00.005-04:00

Look, I don't normally comment on things I'm writing about, because I feel it undermines my sterling reputation as an impartial observer, but the fact is we are likely never going to know what actually happened in discussions between former President Bill Clinton and U.S. Rep. Joe Sestak.
Only those two men will ever know what they said to each other, or whether what they said they said to each is actually what they said to each other. And, to be honest, I'm probably not alone in thinking the president has more important things to worry about at the moment anyway. (Actually, this fella has some pretty good ideas on what the Prez. should be doing.)
(Although Pat Toomey, the Republican candidate for the Senate seat Sestak is also seeking, has posed the question that if all this job offer business is really as innocent as it's been made out to be, why in the hell did it take so long for someone to just say so? It's a good point and I've been promised an answer.)
In the meantime, all this bluster over "offergate" is really starting to look familiar. U.S. Rep. Darrell Issa, R-Calif. - who has led the charge on this, even going so far as to say it is possibly an impeachable offense - and Republican members of the House and Senate Judiciary Committees have now asked the FBI to get involved. Call me an Obama apologist if you like (or you can chalk it up to "I'm just sayin' is all") but all this posturing really does make you wonder if these guys just woke from some sort of coma.

On indentured servitude

2010-05-26T12:18:00.001-04:00

Glenn Beck just asked via commercial if I knew African Americans were involved in the founding of our country.
Really Glenn?
Really?

ideaLab

2010-05-25T16:26:00.008-04:00

Recently, Journal Register Company John Paton invited employees to offer ideas on a new JRC undertaking known as ideaLab.
"To start, we are going to equip 15 Journal Register Company staff members with the latest tools and give them the time and money to experiment with them. Each member of the ideaLab will be equipped, initially, with an iPhone, iPad and a Netbook," said Paton. "We will carve out 10 hours a week from their jobs to allow them time to experiment with these tools and report back on how we can change our business for the better. And we will add an extra $500 per month to their pay."

Not to be outdone by my JRC colleagues, and because I really need the money, I have heated my well-apportioned brain meats to 110 degrees Fahrenheit through willpower alone in order to posit some startlingly brilliant ideas for labs.

And here they are:

1. Sell iPad and iPhone for booze money. Document humorous inebriated exploits for blog using Netbook. Sell Netbook.

2. Use $500 to purchase quantity of monkeys. Force monkeys to toil on iPad, iPhone and Netbook for 1,000 years. Sell resulting gibberish as "The Great American App."

3. Write a story that doesn't involve constant saving of material for fear of the OS crashing. Because, for once, it won't be Windows 98. (Not joking.)

4. Synergize logistics by shifting paradigms outside of the box. Place head in oven.

5. Two words: Pirated software.

6. Two more words: Blank CDs.

7. Two additional words: Supplemental income.

8. Use Netbook as discus, iPad as archery target and iPhone as shot-put in the first Apple Olympics. In Rome. On the company dime.

9.Lament a society that judges its worth solely by its technological advancements. Use iPad to watch Gilligan's Island reruns on Hulu.

10. Comment on competitors' Web pages that they are all "suckers" and that their mothers were women of exceptionally loose morals. FROM DIRECTLY OUTSIDE THEIR OFFICES. (Booyah.)

11. Apps! APPS! AAAAAAPPPPPSSSSSS!!!!!!

12. Raise the dead by harnessing the raw power of Mother Nature herself. Introduce resulting zombie to "Peggle."

13. Tweet a link with something sure to be redistributed quickly, like "Obamacare repealed!!", which directs people to an as-yet-unnamed Horror of the Internet. Sit back and watch the retweets multiply like tribbles, laughing maniacally.

15. Use iPhone to call Gary Busey, because his answering machine message is hilarious. Watch "Point Break" on iPad. Then sell both for something useful, like rent money.

15. Using advanced alien technology powering iPad, wet-wire brain of dog to Netbook. Present as "ideaLabrador." Collect Pulitzer prize.

All that's left to do now is sit back and wait for my new gadgets to arrive in the mail, all the while hoping our new CEO has a really good sense of humor.

2010-04-29T17:56:00.003-04:00

Found this comment from hyperion3 on a Washington Post story about "Everybody Draw Mohammed Day" coming up May 20. Now, I don't normally comment on religion because it's silly and useless, but I thought this particular post insightful enough to share with the two or three trolls who ever check to see if I've updated my page.

Again - not me, somebody else, in response to this story:

A lot of the comments against "Everybody Draw Mohammed Day" seem to place drawing Mohammed in the same category as desecrating the Qur’an, burning a flag, or using a racial epithet. But there's a real problem with this analogy. In these examples, the action is intrinsically offensive because it clearly and unambiguously express hatred and contempt for a particular group based solely on their religion, nationality, or race. These may all be forms of constitutionally protected speech in the United States, but most people agree that they have no place in "polite society."

In contrast, making a drawing of Mohammed amounts to little more than violating a religious taboo. The prohibition against depicting Mohammed stems from concerns that images, statues, or other works of art may lead to idolatry and corruption of the faith. Indeed, there are some schools of thought that conclude any representational art should be prohibited under Islamic law. Looked at this way, the prohibition seems akin to other well-known religious taboos such as dietary restrictions (halal, kosher, etc.) or rules relating to marriage, divorce, and sexual activity.

Personally, I feel it's extremely inappropriate for believers of any religion to claim offense when non-believers decline to follow taboos and dogma that are based exclusively on religious teaching. Expecting non-Muslims to refrain from depicting Mohammed is a bit like expecting non-Jews to refrain from eating bacon or non-Catholics to refrain from using condoms. This standard is particularly disturbing when it's applied to artists who are actively engaged in questioning and challenging the proper role of religion in public discourse.

What it boils down to (in my opinion) is that it's reasonable for Muslims to criticize specific drawings of Mohammed that are clearly hateful, mean-spirited, or incendiary. It's not reasonable to demand that all people, Muslims and non-Muslims alike, adhere to a specific tenet of the Muslim faith. And even in the case of clearly offensive drawings the *only* acceptable responses are public criticism, boycotts, and other legal tactics.

For these reasons I think "Everybody Draw Mohammed Day" serves a very important purpose. Rather than being an in-your-face response to the "South Park" controversy that's intended to insult Muslims, it actually reinforces the idea that no religion should be allowed to impose its doctrines on those outside the faith, either by threats or by claiming "offense."

Fair Warning:

2010-03-16T16:50:00.003-04:00

I will no longer give credence to anyone making the assertion that the health care reform bill making its way through the House is, in any way, shape or form, a "government takeover."
It isn't. You know it. I know it. And if you don't know it, then you've been duped.
Any further use of this term, in person or via Interweb, will be met with instant and total derision, as well as full dismissal of all other points of view.
That is all.

Alienation: Check!

2010-03-04T13:16:00.004-05:00

Continuing a years-long effort to keep people the hell out of Philadelphia, Mayor Michael Nutter unveiled the city's plan Thursday to institute a permanent 2-cent-per-ounce tax on sugary liquids.
"We've recently taken a number of steps to keep people - and their money - from flowing into our city and this new tax is in line with that agenda," said Nutter. "I don't think I have to remind anyone of the 8 percent sales tax we put in place last year. Our business taxes also remain among the highest in the nation, while our lack of parking and resultant violations collections measures are so legendary that A&E for some reason made a television show about it. ... For those who would rather take SEPTA into the city and avoid the parking situation, years of mismanagment have forced costs to increase to a 'prohibitive' level, all but eliminating that option."
While he wasn't directly responsible for it, Nutter said the city also takes great pride in its 4 percent wage tax, which he said has been an excellent deterrent to anyone willing to live or work in Philadelphia. He noted some 300,000 jobs have fled Phialdlephia since 1950, alnog with about 30 percent of the population.
This new sugar tax is ostensibly a "sin tax" intended to keep young people from getting fat, said Nutter, whose hatred for fatties (but not bloat) has been well documented.
Plans to provide poorer neighborhoods that more closely resemble a post-tsunami Indonesia than inner-city Philadelphia with access to anything more than a bodega for foodstuffs were apparently not included in discussions.
Nutter, the driving force behind a citywide smoking ban in 2007, said he does have some other plans in the works to combat obesity, however, including rationing of fast food access and an outright ban on cheesesteaks.
"Listen, we're not saying you shouldn't be able to make choices about what you do with or to your own body, except in the sense that yes, that is exactly what we're saying," said Nutter. "We just want you to live, work and play somewhere else. Why is that so hard for people to understand?"

Lesson learned

2010-02-04T14:59:00.001-05:00

Never post date checks. Someone, somewhere, won't pay attention and before you know it, you'll owe the bank $140.
During a recession.
With one source of income in your house.
Awesome.

Pat Robertson Causes Hurricanes

2010-01-15T15:03:00.004-05:00

I think we can all agree that Pat Robertson is a jerk who uses tragedy to push his own warped idea of religion. Yes? Ok.
I would say the same of the Westboro Baptist Church and any number of other groups/individuals hiding behind the First Amendment to espouse hate in the guise of "God's divine message" or some other such hooey.
Luckily, most of us can also agree that these idiots are to be ridiculed and ignored. Hell, they practically beg for it.
But there are people out there - not you, gentle reader, but far stupider folk - who actually agree with the things that fall out of Robertson's mouth like so much half-digested tripe, who actually defend his statements in a revolting display of ignorance fit only for the truly crippled of reason.
"Yes, there is literally a fallen angel dressed all in red with horns and a pitchfork and the Haitians made a deal with him 200 years ago in his underground nether-realm to destroy the French and that is why earthquakes happen, durrrrrr" is not an uncommon thing for these half-wits to shout at one another while patrolling the walkways of Planned Parenthood clinics with rifles.
Granted, some of the things these people subscribe to are pretty damn funny. Westboro, for instance, never fails to amuse with its renditions of Christmas tunes describing how Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer is leading our children to hell or some such nonsense.
But then they'll go and do something like show up at some poor kid's funeral waving placards reading "God Hates Fags" and, well, that I simply cannot abide.
Only, I can't really do anything about it, can I? I mean, it's not like you can just go around knee-capping people with baseball bats because of their indefensibly asinine public displays of contempt couched in theology.
At least, not yet.
Ladies and gentleman, I propose a new amendment for the new decade; an amendment for those who understand and embrace religious tolerance, but who have also just had it up to here with some of these cultish freaks.
Let us call it, "The Defense of Common Sense Act." I haven't worked out all the particulars yet, but basically it allows you to beat the living hell out of anyone trying to keep us in the dark ages - like Robertson - if they even hint at some foolishness like "earthquakes are a force of the devil."
I mean, really? Really? That alone deserves at least a smack upside the head, but knowing that ill-formed grotesquerie, he'd sue me for assault. And that's the rub, isn't it? The reasonably-minded among us, I'm sure, would love to give these dingbats a collective wedgie, if for no other reason than to simply stop them from making all Christians look like utter morons.
Except that you can't. There are laws against that sort of thing.
But hopefully not for long.

Sarah Palin to join Fox Ne - oh wait, never mind.

2010-01-12T12:53:00.010-05:00

Former Vice Presidential candidate/Alaskan governor/relevant human being Sarah Palin announced Tuesday she would join the team at Fox News in 2010 to deliver "inspirational real-life tales of overcoming adversity throughout the American landscape."
Palin said in a release that she was "thrilled to be joining the great talent and management team at Fox News," a place that "so values fair and balanced news."
Her opening segment was expected to focus on Glenn Beck.
However, just hours after announcing her new job, Palin announced she would walk out on her contract with Fox News 18 months early.
Arriving at a hastily-convened news conference by bus (which had picked her up from the airport, where she had flown in by private jet) Palin said she was retiring from broadcast journalism in order to pursue a career as an astronaut, a move she said was supported by four yesses and one "hell yeah!" from her family.
"The way I see it, if real Americans throughout this great land of ours watched the 2008 presidential race and still consider me a viable candidate for the presidency in 2012, then I'm qualified to do anything," said Palin. "Besides, I bet I can get a real good look at Russia from way up there in God's vacuum."
Michael Steels' head reportedly exploded upon hearing the news.

I hate politics

2009-12-24T09:43:00.008-05:00

Here's the thing: My girlfriend has Crohn's Disease. If you don't know what that is, it's basically like having a flesh-eating virus stuck in your intestines with no hope of ever extricating it. I can't even fathom trying to live with that. Suffice to say, it sure doesn't look like fun. There's a lot of blood involved.
She was getting treatments for it with a shot called Remicade, which acts a lot like Nexium does on the esophagus, in that it helps rebuild damaged tissue. But that was when she had health insurance through her work. Without that insurance, she can't pay for the shot (which is to say nothing of the short hospital stay it requires to administer it).
She hasn't received treatment in more than a year because she hasn't had a job that offered insurance. She will have a new plan through her new job come Jan. 1. Meanwhile, lord only knows what has happened to her insides. I don't even want to think about it, but it could require surgery that would lay her up for months.
If there were a public option available when she lost her job - or, better yet, single-payer system in place like the rest of the freaking industrialized world has - she would likely be fine.
But she isn't. She's in constant pain.
And I blame you jerks in Washington.
Luckily, you've just passed two bills that could help address the problem. Only they won't, because it's Washington and you'll probably stuff the resulting compromise bill so full of pork and insurance company subsidies that it will resemble nothing even remotely like what people like us need.
For instance, poor people (again, us) don't need to be punished for not buying health insurance. That is the stupidest damn idea I ever heard. We're not buying insurance because we're poor, not because we think we're indestructible "masters of the universe," as Joe Sestak is fond of saying. If we can't afford insurance, what in the hell makes you think we can afford a fine for not buying insurance? And let me guess - we'll continue to be fined until we do buy insurance? Yeah, that helps. Thanks.
Also, lowering the age of Medicare eligibility to 55? Terrible idea. As Darcy Burner explained in a recent article for the Huffington Post, insurance companies don't pay or underpay for routine and preventative care because by the time chronic problems like diabetes actually have to be dealt with, they're hedging that those suffering from these diseases will be covered by Medicare and therefor the government's problem (i.e. taxpayer's problem). Lowering that age, Burner correctly points out, will only make insurers less likely to cover costs for preventive care.
Compounding that with a lack of a single-payer system or public option - which you might remember as the entire freaking point of this bill - makes this legislation almost criminally stupid. Seriously.
But it's not too late for you out-of-touch Scrooges to put something actually meaningful together. Here are some ideas to help save this bill:
1. Start listening to Dennis Kucinich. He's arguably the smartest man in Washington.
2. Extending COBRA coverage for those who have lost their jobs is fine and all, or it would be if it wasn't so prohibitively expensive to maintain coverage with COBRA. Trust me, no one can afford this and there should be a way to correct that here.
3. Single payer/public option. Get it in there, or to hell with the lot of you.
4. Alternatively, federalizing regulation of insurance and allowing for inter-state commerce of insurance companies would go a long way toward reducing costs and breaking the kind of monopolies we see here in Pennsylvania. (As long as there are common-sense provisions for what insurers can and can't do - like screw us with this "pre-existing condition" crap.)
5. Go nuclear. If it's gotten to the point that children like Joe Lieberman or Ben Nelson can hijack Congress with the threat of a filibuster, then guess what? It's time to remove that weapon from their arsenal and allow a simple majority vote to move a bill forward. Problem solved, idiots.

That's it.

Have a merry x-mas, you bunch of taxpayer-sponsored jerks.

Ohmygodwhyyyyyyyy

2009-12-18T16:54:00.005-05:00

Been awhile. Not that anyone reads this stupid thing, but I thought this was funny, so I am sharing it with the Internets.

Joe Sestak took a different tack in going after Arlen Specter Thursday. First, his Sestak for Senate campaign sent out a release lauding Specter for a prediction he made at an AFL-CIO convention in September that an Employee Free Choice Act (EFCA) bill “totally satisfactory to labor” had been more or less "hammered out" and would likely be passed by year’s end.
The comment caused quite a stir - mostly because it was regarded as absolutely ludicrous that there was a bill anywhere close to being "hammered out" at the time. Sestak is apparently trying to hold Specter to it anyway (good luck).
But then (and this is where it gets weird) the “Real Arlen Specter” Web site – an attack site maintained by the Sestak campaign – issued it’s own release, pointing out Specter, a former longtime Republican, was actually against EFCA before switching parties earlier this year. (Gasp!)
Yawn, right?
Fair enough, but what I liked about it is the self-referential opening line of the "Real Arlen" release: “In light of a reminder from Democratic Congressman Joe Sestak's Senate campaign about Arlen Specter's pledge to have a done deal on the Employee Free Choice Act in the Senate by year's end, The Real Arlen Specter for Senate campaign would like to set the record straight."
The kicker for a colleague was the email subject line, "The Real Arlen Specter: Joe Sestak Knows I Oppose EFCA."
"The subject line is what takes it over the edge," he said. "The 'Real Specter' (a character created by Sestak, right?) is telling the world that the real, real Specter (actual Specter) knows that Sestak knows that the real Specter (I don't even know which one) actually opposes EFCA, according to Sestak."
Wheeeee!

From creativeminorityreport.com:

2009-11-05T10:14:00.000-05:00

Arlen Specter Switches to Yankees Fan

In a hastily called press conference coming just hours after the New York Yankees convincing victory last night in Game Four of the World Series over the Philadelphia Phillies, Pennsylvania Senator Arlen Specter announced today that he is now a Yankees fan.

Specter said the move had nothing to do with the Yankees victory last night giving them a 3-1 lead in the series. "I haven't felt like a Phillies fan for quite some time," said Specter. "I am not leaving the Phillies. The Phillies left me."

Specter's long time discontent came as a surprise to many who celebrated last year's World Series win by the Phillies along with Specter.

But New York Senator Chuck Schumer praised the longtime Phillies fan saying that this move by Specter highlights his "fierce independence."

"Arlen's independence, integrity and baseball intellect are to be admired and I'll be pleased to be sitting in Yankee stadium near him when the Yankees win the World Series," said Schumer.

According to some inside sources, Specter was expecting to be handed box seats at Yankee stadium upon his announcement but it turned out he was not given seniority over other season ticket holders and was only offered seats in the boisterous mezzanine level.

Specter infamously switched parties earlier this year when it appeared that he might not win in the Republican primary against his GOP challenger Pat Toomey

The cell phone Palin? You Betcha!

2009-11-02T17:05:00.006-05:00

The following is a textual conversation I had with a friend today, very nearly verbatim:

Him: This phone machine sucks (expletive deleted).
Me: I thought you had some hoity toity phone machine with all manner of electronic gimmickry?
H: Promises promises. It's like the Sarah Palin of technology.
M: It has 3G experience because it lives near silicone valley?
H: It thinks that because it has a big bright screen no one will notice its shortcomings and illogical functions.
M: It browses Web sites. Which ones? Oh, all of them. All the major ones.
H: It denounces updates because they conflict with its Christian heritage.
M: It believes in time honored values like firewalls and one access code for one OS, but fails to acknowledge security breaches within its own network.
H: It wants to be the OS in charge, but it can't finish its first download.
M: It also spent a fortune on new skins out of your Paypal account and now refuses to delete any.
H: It also thinks it's rurally constructed base translates to the rest of the models.
M: And that overseeing 60 bits of ram for a year and a half has prepared it for taking charge of the DOD database.
H: Or when it drops a call the problem is "solved."
M: It sends the texts it chooses to send, not necessarily the ones you asked it to send. Because it's a maverick.
H: It won't use a rebate because rich people are all that matter and market forces have proved it.
M: It constantly digs into your thigh in an attempt to drill, baby, drill!
H: It's a friend to the environment because its radio waves are killing the pesky bees and their dumb hives.
M: The toxins from its batteries have been known to kill local wolf populations. From the air.
H: It's plastic contributes to global warming, which is solving the polar bear question.
M: It believes that cell phone creation begins not at the factory, but in R & D.
H: It believes that without its battery it will not be recycled and sit at the right hand of the one true cell phone.
M: It believes chargers are a privilege, not a right, and that every phone has to pull itself up by the charging cord if it wants a full battery.
H: It believes that each state should choose what is best for its cell phones without a body to oversee all cellphone activity, thus freeing the market to self regulate.
M: I'm totally putting this in my blog.
H: Sweet, I didn't know I was going to be published.
M: I'm not using your name.
H: (expletive deleted).

Parting shot: I'm really enjoying all this extra sunlight in the morning, and I can rest assured that I'll save on candles come Spring. Thanks, Mr. Franklin!

Anatomy of a boner

2009-09-11T11:01:00.002-04:00

According to a USA Today timeline:

"CNN is reporting that the Coast Guard has fired on a boat on the Potomac River.
Update at 10:10 a.m. ET: The report of some activity on the river comes only minutes after President Obama concluded 9/11 memorial ceremonies at the Pentagon not far away.
Update at 10:12 a.m. ET: CNN says the Coast Guard fired 10 rounds at the boat.
Update at 10:14 a.m. ET: CNN broadcasts what it says is audio of the Coast Guard apparently speaking to a suspicious boat. The Coast Guard speaker is heard saying; "Slow down or you will be fired on."
Update at 10:27 a.m. ET: The AP quotes the Coast Guard as saying training was being conducted in Potomac River moments before Obama motorcade crossed.
Update at 10:30 a.m. ET: CNN quotes two police sources as saying the incident was a possible Coast Guard training exercise.
Update at 10:32 a.m. ET: Fox News quotes Coast Guard Chief Keith Moore as saying no shots were fired as part of the exercise.
Update at 10:33 a.m. ET: Reuters quotes an FBI spokeswoman as saying the agency was told by the Coast Guard that no shots were fired at a boat in the Potomac.
Update at 10: 41 a.m. ET: NBC's Pete Williams, quoting a "senior Coast Guard official," says the incident was just an exercise to "challenge response times."Williams says the exercise was strictly a "radio exercise" and did not involve any boats or any firing by the Coast Guard. Williams reports that a "citizen" overheard the radio exercise and passed that along to some news organizations, which broadcast reports of possible shot being fired.
Update at 10: 53 a.m. ET: USA TODAY's Kevin Johnson reports that the Coast Guard say that no shots were fired and that the incident involved a "radio exercise." Johnson says the Coast Guard is preparing a statement for release in a few moments, which we will carry."

The AP's version as of 11 a.m.:
"WASHINGTON — The Coast Guard conducted a training exercise in the Potomac River near the Pentagon amid Sept. 11 commemorations Friday, sparking confusion.
Coast Guard Chief Keith Moore said Friday no shots were fired as part of the exercise. Media reports suggested shots had been fired in the river and showed vessels circling in the water, near the bridge where President Barack Obama's motorcade passed as he traveled to a Sept. 11 memorial at the Pentagon.
Coast Guard spokesman John Edwards said references to shots fired were picked up in radio chatter. As part of its exercise Friday, the Coast Guard aired simulated instructions to participants to fire 10 rounds. But Edwards said there were no shots actually fired and there were no suspicious boats.
The Coast Guard conducts this sort of training everyday. The training had nothing to do with the 9/11 anniversary, Edwards said.
"This is routine training for us and we train everyday," Edwards said.
Obama had traveled to the Pentagon to lay a wreath in a ceremony commemorating the eighth anniversary of the terrorist attacks."

Might want to take this particular day off, knuckleheads. This is basically the equivalent of Spain testing its bomb threat response time at train stations on March 11.

Speeches that make children yawn

2009-09-08T16:23:00.006-04:00

America-hating President Barack Obama urged children to stay in school and work hard today. Ironically, many of them never got the message because their parents had pulled them from school to keep them from hearing this horrible, pro-socialist message of secret-Muslim indoctrination

Meanwhile, we have this story from Arne Duncan of the St. Petersburg Times, which notes Obama was not the first sitting president to speak "directly to the nation's schoolchildren about persisting and succeeding in school." As it turns out, at least one other president, George H.W. Bush, gave that same message in 1991.

According to Duncan, Bush's remarks were broadcast live by CNN, PBS, NBC radio, and something called the Mutual Broadcasting System at about noon on a school day (obviously). I think I actually remember hearing that address, if not watching it.

The complete text of that speech, delivered in Ms. Mollster's classroom at Some Such Jr. High School, can be found here. Like Obama's, it has nothing at all to do with politics, but rather is a long, boring list of reasons why students should take responsibility for their choices in life and stay away from drugs and control their own destinies and all the other typical rubbish adults push on children.

As Duncan points out, Democrats criticized Bush for delivering his speech in much the same way Republicans are complaining about Obama delivering his. I don't remember anybody saying they weren't going to let their kid hear the stupid thing, though. I think the complaints about Bush the Elder's speech were really more political theater than anything. At any rate, the speech never affected a single person I knew, and most probably don't remember it at all if they weren't actually inside Ms. Mostoller's classroom that day. That might not hold as true with Obama, who is something of a political anomaly, but the point is neither of these guys really delivered anything to the students beyond what was expected: "Stay in school. Work hard. Eat your vegetables." blah blah blah.

Reagan, well...that was something else entirely.

As Duncan noted in a more neutral tone than these guys, Reagan's speech and subsequent Q-and-A with students was little more than an advertisement about how badly Jimmy Carter had messed up the country, but with proper Republican stewardship, it was back on course. Though his speech is far more politically-oriented, it's still a freakin' yawnfest and, again, probably meant nothing to anyone except the students actually standing in the same room as the then-president.

At any rate, this sort of thing is nothing new and certainly nothing to wind yourself up about. Unless, of course, you're an idiot, in which case go nuts.

Shut. Up.

2009-09-01T16:03:00.003-04:00

I'll be in Allentown tomorrow for yet another town hall on health care. If you are also going to be there, I beg of you: Shut up. Just. Shut. Up.
I don't care if you think "Sestak is a snake" or "Toomey is looney." I don't care if you hate/love/fear/worship Obama/Boehner/Pelosi/McCain. I don't care what you think about anything, actually, until whoever is onstage has finished talking. And I don't mean immediately following a single sentence, I mean the whole shebang.
Then I will ask you.
Then you can tell me.
In the interim, please refrain from bleating out whatever half-truth you gleaned from some dingbat's twitter account earlier in the day, because A) it's annoying, B) you're probably wrong and C) no one can tell what the hell anyone's saying when everyone shouts different buzzwords at the same time anyway.
See, unlike some of you mewling cabbages that go to these things (and you know who you are) I actually want - nay, need - to hear what the people with the microphones are saying. Because it's my job to tell other people (those who actually have lives away from the front steps of Planned Parenthood and Whole Foods) what was said. When you whine and shout and rend your garments, that makes my job difficult, which in turn makes me want to beat you to death with a fence post.
To be clear, I'm not saying you shouldn't get out there and demonstrate and wave signs and shout slogans and all that jazz. Knock yourself out - it doesn't hurt anyone and has never made a lick of difference in politics anyway.
But when someone is halfway through a sentence that sounds kind of important to the argument, it might be a good idea to let him finish and actually hear what he has to say instead of cheering or booing or whatever else your little chimp mind has grasped on as the correct response to some trigger word like "taxes" or "panel" or "donut hole."
Save all that for later. I assure you, there will be plenty of time to alienate your friends and loved ones with whatever you think is a well-reasoned argument long after we've all fled Allentown at high speed.
For the moment, though, please, please just shut up. We'll all have a better understanding of the debate and, as a bonus, no one will be bludgeoned with yard lumber.

Advertisement pitches for the U.S. Mint

2009-08-28T10:37:00.002-04:00

"Dollar Bills: They're Not Just For Strippers Anymore."

"Coins: They Make Great Gifts For The Homeless And Drug-Addicted."

"Dollar Coins. Yes, Again."

"Pennies: They Make A Great Addition To Any Gutter."

"787 Billion Reasons To Spend."

"Money: Get Yours, Before It's Gone!"

Two Words:

2009-08-27T21:00:00.001-04:00

Mayan Colander.
Get on it, Pottery Barn.

(You only have until 2012.)

You can't make this stuff up. Which is to say that you can, and it gets funnier.

2009-08-27T15:40:00.005-04:00

In a recent Republican National Committee mailer titled “2009 Future of American Health Survey," there is one alarmingly hilarious question you might have missed:

"It has been suggested that the government could use voter registration to determine a person's political affiliation, prompting fears that GOP voters might be discriminated against for medical treatment in a Democrat-imposed health care rationing system. Does this possibly concern you?"

No, really, that was the question. And while it has all the basic ingredients of funny-because-it's-true, it does lack that certain Palinesque flamboyancy we've come to expect from the RNC, an oversight that I'd like to correct now with a little re-write:

"It has been suggested, here, at this moment, that as a registered Republican American, you will be dragged before a Gestapo death panel and shot a certain number of times as determined by your attending Nazi-imposed - oops, I mean Democrat-imposed - death physician. Does that sort of thing make you cry eagle's blood or what?"

Or, to Kevin Nealon it up a little:

"It has been suggested (paranoia) that the government (Nazi president) could use voter registration (brown shirts) to determine a person's political affiliation (Mussolini), prompting fears that GOP voters (patriots) might be discriminated against (death panels) for medical treatment in a Democrat-imposed (abortions) health care rationing system (killbots). Does this possibly concern you (assault weapons)?"

Go ahead and say something

2009-08-14T12:03:00.005-04:00

The blorg is once again open to receiving comments from non-registered users. Feel free to speak your mind, but remember that I will filter comments, and reserve the right to delete any and all hatespeech, obscenities, etc., etc. You people should know what's acceptable by now (or not, judging from some of the comment sections of the DT Web site) so use your best judgment.
It should be noted that this is, for the most part, a comedy blog. That means sarcasm, satire and absurdity. If you aren't familiar with those concepts, you might have a hard time here, because I will make fun of you and so should everyone else.

Really Eagles? ...Really?

2009-08-14T11:39:00.006-04:00

Sundays were finally going to mean something again. Drinking, yelling at the television, eating horribly unhealthy foods, drinking, and more yelling. Good, clean fun for the whole family. The right kind of fun. American fun.
And you took it all away from us. You took the only thing that could get me out of bed before noon on a weekend. You took it and you body-slammed it onto the concrete to kill it.
You bastards took football.
It's bad enough that I live with the most fervent Steelers fan in the Western Hemisphere, who can't go three minutes without mentioning their sixth Super Bowl win last season, but now I don't even have a team.
Do you understand? I have no team. How could I possibly support the Eagles now? How could anyone? You might as well have hired a child rapist. I'm not exaggerating; for me, there is no difference.
Even if this is a purely financial decision to pick up convicted dog killer Michael Vick at a cut rate price and gain a substantial trade further down the line, it's still unacceptable. In fact, that might even make it worse, especially for a squad that has always prided itself on the high quality of its players' characters.
Do people deserve second chances? Maybe. Does Michael Vick? No. I said "people," and Vick hardly registers higher than "walking turd" in my book. "People" don't participate in, fund or condone the fighting, hanging, electrocution and drowning of defenseless animals. Nor are they rewarded, generally, with $6 million contracts for doing so.
No, Eagles. No. Vick is a repulsive, disgracful flathead who has never shown an ounce of remorse for his actions. He shouldn't be in the league and he sure as hell shouldn't be on our team.
Sorry, I guess I meant your team. I'm finished with you, Eagles.
Come back when you grow some scruples.

Other ways health care reform is bad for you

2009-08-10T17:03:00.009-04:00

Former Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin was recently positioned behind a microphone, triggering a Pavlovian conditioning reflex that compelled her to say things like "you betcha" and "by gum" and "the Democrats' health care plan will mandate a panel be formed to kill all of your grandmothers and infants born with down syndrome."
Now, it's a proven fact that Barack Obama hates the old and infirm, sure as the flat disc of a planet we are living on is surrounded on all sides by a giant ice wall that keeps the oceans from spilling out into space, so it comes as no surprise that Democrat-sponsored legislation on health care reform would include this "final solution" to the grandmother problem.

But there are many other very important amendments to the proposed legislation that Palin failed to mention, a few of which I'd like to enlighten you with now:

1.GENE-SPLICING. A certain amount of gene splicing will be required during all inpatient surgeries, on a sliding scale of "need" determined by where the patient falls on the poverty scale. Due to the socialist nature of the plan, however, patients may not pick what animal type they will be bonded with at the molecular level. (Choice would be irrelevant at any rate, as the only species suitable for splicing to date is the hagfish; a holdover from the genome project begun by President Bill Clinton in honor of his wife.)
2.SEX CHANGES. Same-sex couples will be allowed to marry under the Obama presidency. However, under the health care plan, at least one will be required to undergo gender reassignment surgery. Couples will be given the freedom to choose which individual will receive the surgery and which will receive a small American flag stapled to a dowel rod. Also, heterosexual marriage will be outlawed. Also, the American flag will be replaced with a Chinese flag.
3.STEM CELLS. Eight full glasses a day, kids.
4.FOOD FILTERS. As the cost for dentistry has risen and foods have become more goo-oriented over time, it has been determined that teeth have become too costly to maintain and irrelevant to eating. The Obama plan calls for the removal and subsequent replacement of all teeth with a filter system typical of large marine mammals.
5.ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE. The following ailments shall only be treated through holistic medicine or, where applicable, tribal Kenyan witchdoctor: Bone deformities; hair loss; cancer; supercancer; hangnail; hysterical pregnancy; somewhat funny pregnancy; irritable bowel syndrome; "outie" bellybuttons; toe fungus; sucking chest wound; limb loss; depression.
6.SMOKING. Smoking will be mandatory.

No need to thank me, folks, I'm just trying to help people familiarize themselves with the facts before they go off to discourage any type of rational discourse with their incessant braying. Speaking of which, I have also taken it upon myself to prepare some things you can shout to drown out anyone attempting said discourse:

"I have a right to be heard! I have a right to be heard!" (Shout this - and only this - until everyone nearby has walked away. Remember: The Constitution guarantees your right to be heard, but that doesn't mean you have to have anything of import to say!)

"This is America, not Russia!" (Reminds people bussed in from other countries where they are.)

"Don't tread on my pre-existing condition!" (Because some people might want to be denied insurance for being pregnant. Who is the government to make that call?)

"Why aren't there more cowboy movies on TV?" (Someone keeps calling us and asking this. I figure if she's there, she can ask the crowd because, honestly, I just don't have an answer for that one.)

"Nancy Pelosi is a robot from the future sent to enslave all mankind!" (Self explanatory.)

"Barack Obama wants to kill your grandmother!" (Referring to the fact that Barack Obama seriously wants to kill your grandmother (see above).)

"Who wants to see pictures of my grandchildren?!" (Confuses and distracts the speaker on stage; WARNING - could also distract other protesters who want to see pictures of your grandchildren and/or offer pictures of their own grandchildren for viewing.)

Well, I hope that was helpful. Now, let's all get out there and foster some democratic debate, eh?

An Elaborate Hoax

2009-08-07T21:15:00.006-04:00

My friend Steve has a theory that most popular black culture is a joke perpetrated by the rich white men who actually own hip hop record labels.
He envisions these fat, greedy bastards sitting around trying to one-up each other on outlandish and outlandishly expensive things - like $400 spinning rims - for black people to waste their money on instead of investing in, say, a college fund.

Now, I don't normally watch reality television. (Nice transition, eh?) But my girlfriend, she watches the "Who Wants to Dance?" program. Or no, sorry, the "So You Think You Can Dance?" program. Which means I watch that very same program, unless I can find something else to do, like the dishes, or simonizing the light switches.
The show had it's season 5 finale yesterday, and after having seen more than enough broadcasts, I can now unequivocally reveal what I believe to be a similar (though less pernicious) joke played on the whole of humanity by the dancey-dancey world: Contemporary dance.

It used to be called "Modern dance," but it could just as accurately be called "flailing your arms, staggering like a drunk, and then rolling on the floor."
It looks absolutely nothing like dancing of any kind, on any planet of this or any other galaxy, and is the most boring, uninspiring schlock I've ever seen on television - and I've seen "According to Jim."
There is one exception to this rule, as there must always be, and that is found in any dance put together by Mia Michaels, one of many choreographers for the dancey...show...thing.
Michaels, however, combines huge portions of other dance styles and moves in a very deliberate order with the aim of telling a story through movement. Not that I ever know what the hell that story is supposed to be, but it at least looks like people, you know, dancing, whereas most contemporary dance resembles Joe Cocker.

There is another gem to this show I would be remiss not to mention: Lil C.
Lil C is another choreographer, and though I would be hard pressed to tell you anything about his work, I love the little weirdo. You never know what he's going to say, but you can always count on it being entertaining.
Example: "It's really difficult to locate the avenue of gain when you're being chauffeured by loss. And I think every opportunity is one step closer to perpetual evolution."
I swear, I did not make one word of that up. The best part of it, though, is that he clearly thinks this is incredibly insightful stuff, when it in fact sounds like five or six fortune cookies strung together in quick succession.
Here's a more recent one: "The primary focus of all obstacles is to induce labor so progression can be born."
Really dude? Really?
I imagine him just scrawling words and phrases like "cosmic," "redemption," "triviality" and "transcendence" on cards, and picking them out of a hat to form these "insights."
"The dancers' redemption of form can only be achieved after triviality is truly transcended through cosmic congruence," for instance.

Oh, and that lady who screams? Well, let's just say nature isn't the only thing that abhors a vacuum. Actually, she wouldn't be so bad if her face wasn't carrying enough botulism to kill half the U.S. Navy. I mean, screaming I can handle. But totally expressionless screaming? Shudder.

PARTING SHOT:
Revamp idea for "My Mother the Car" with a more paternal twist: "Van of the House." Look for it on whatever brain-addled channel keeps renewing unfunny sitcoms starring fat comedians married to thin, bitchy women THIS FALL!

Defend this:

2009-08-05T21:39:00.003-04:00

Lame weirdo George Sodini walked into a dance-aerobics fitness class in Bridgeville Tuesday, flipped off the lights and started shooting.
Using three guns (he had brought four) Sodini fired at least 36 bullets, according to the Associated Press, killing three women and wounding nine others before turning a gun on himself.
I haven't seen what types of guns Sodini used. I don't know where he bought them, or when, or how. I do know that they fit into a duffel bag, which he had placed on the floor of the exercise room before he started his rampage.
I also know I can expect this hare-brained response from the pro-gun lobby:
"Well, if every woman in that room was packin' heat, they could have defended themselves and saved lives!"
By what - firing randomly into the darkness, probably hitting other class members scurrying around in a panic? Yeah, that makes perfect sense.
I also like the extension of this idea, that if EVERYONE IN THE WORLD were to carry a concealed handgun, tragedies like this wouldn't occur.
Wrong again, neckbeard. This pitiful loser actually posted his DEATH DATE as August 4 on a Web page where he chronicled a) his inability to have a normal relationship with a woman and b) his intent to slaughter women in that particular class.
Clearly, a guy who plans to die as part of his assault probably isn't gonna be deterred by anyone else's ability to kill him, so long as he can squeeze off a few rounds first. Which, let's face it, he almost certainly would unless he was in Florida at the time, where citizens have been actively encouraged by the legislature to shoot first and ask questions later (another reason I won't be visiting Florida any time soon).
"OOOOO!" I can just hear some troglodyte screaming in the back now. "OOO! Well, it wasn't the gun what killed them people, it was him. I mean, what if he only had a knife? Huh? What then? He still coulda killed those girls! With a common kitchen knife like your ma uses to make apple pie with! How about that, smart guy? Huh? Or do you hate apple pie, too, you pinko?!"
Here's how about that, you mutant slug: If he had a knife, he likely wouldn't have been able to inflict the same level of damage, because he either wouldn't have been able to see in the dark well enough to correctly cut arteries, or he would have had to leave the light on, in which case the victims would have been able to see/run from their assailant, during which time they probably would have been screaming and someone might have been able to intervene sooner, reducing the number of victims killed or even seriously injur--
You know what? That argument is just too stupid to even argue. I'm tired of it and it makes no sense, so stop using it.
I'm also tired of this same kind of thing happening again and again and again. But, to be honest, I have no answer on how to stop it, aside from outlawing the purchasing of guns by the common citizen. And we can't do that, of course, because if our government ever turns tyrannical, we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves.
After all, that is what it all comes down to, isn't it? Freedom from tyranny? Well, put on a helmet to contain the splatter, because I am about to blow your mind: We already lost that fight. A looong time ago.
Oh, don't get me wrong - when everybody had the same muskets, we probably still stood a chance. But the second our country's military was allowed to have and control weapons beyond the scope of the common man, it was over.
I'd say by the end of World War One, we were probably already punching out of our weight class. In 2009? Hell, even if every town in every state of the union had a well-provisioned militia, any assault they might rally against the modern military would be laughable. We might win Alaska, but who the hell wants it? Hawaii...well, that could go either way.
As for the Continental U.S., forget it. Gum-ment wins, hands down. Which brings us to the question: What's the point of even having the Second Amendment if any intended use of it ends in defeat? (And it almost certainly would.)
I mean, are we just going to sit around waiting for what some view as an inevitable civil war between the federal government and the country's citizens, or should we give up a right that's meaningless even at the Constitutional level for the sake of personal safety?
Personally, I don't know how I'd go on that one. I mean, it's fun to go out in the woods and, you know, just shoot some stuff.
But is it really worth it? Is it really, really worth it?

On McFadden's duct tape

2009-06-09T17:15:00.003-04:00

I didn't get the chance to put this in my certification hearing story - which, with any luck, will run before the general election - but it turns out Upper Prov. Republican Thomas McFadden has a fair sense of humor about himself.
McFadden, you might remember, got pretty damn nasty with Bill Thomas at the last election board hearing, dropping an eff-bomb in Thomas's face so laced with venom I think it killed half the flowers in the room.
Of course I put it in the story. I had to - it was the most interesting thing that happened that day and reminded me of the good ol' Paula Brown days when I was covering Darby.
McFadden (described by a fellow GOPer as a "pitbull" of a candidate) was back for the certification hearing. He didn't say a thing to me nor I to him, but I did notice at one point that he showed someone a roll of duct tape, indicating it was for his own mouth.
Woulda been a better gag if he actually wore it on his face through the whole hearing, but I'll still give him an 'E' for effort.

Abbot and Costello and House and 13

2009-06-04T11:03:00.003-04:00

During a commercial for the upcoming Transformers movie, my ladyfriend remarked that "actress" Megan Fox had landed #2 on Maxim's annual "Hot 100" list.
When I asked who made number one, she replied, "Thirteen, Olivia Wilde."
Me: "But who made number one?"
Ladyfriend: "Olivia Wilde. Thirteen."
Me: Puzzled looks.

I don't watch the teledrama House on the Fox TV, but apparently Olivia Wilde plays a character named, for reasons I can only imagine are horribly contrived, "13."

Once this was explained to me, we finished setting our baseball roster.

On Cash for Class

2009-05-20T18:23:00.003-04:00

The Chester Upland School District is considering giving each of its 363 students entering ninth grade this year a $50 bonus for attending a 20-day accelerated learning program during the summer.
There are those who would say this is bribery, and they may very well be right. But that begs the question: So what?

See, most things in life (the things that work, anyway) get done through the subtle art of bribery. You want me to help you move? Then you know to provide beer and pizza. You want me to vote for your handgun bill? You better give me a vote on my health care plan. You want me to fix the leaking roof? Then we are going to do some weird stuff tonight in bed.

Just look at the expenditures in Iraq and Afghanistan. How much of that is funneled to local despots just to ensure troops can pass through a particular area unmolested, or that supplies reach their intended destination? How much to ensure good intel from spies, or that guards can't be bought off?

See, in the real world, people (ideally) get paid for the work they do, or whatever is produced from their efforts. Since school is supposed to prepare students for work (which we all know it does not) then it follows that paying students for the work they perform in school is maybe not all that bad an idea - granted you pay based on the work produced (read: grade received).
None of this is new stuff, by the way, just a rehash of some old ideas.

Charlotte Hummel, the eminently quotable school board director from the William Penn School District, chimed in on the Daily Times Web site to suggest that instead of a bonus, summer jobs could be found for these students. Which also wouldn't be such a bad idea if it didn't totally ignore the class aspect - you know, the point of the bonus?

CUSD Empowerment Board Chairman Marc Woolley tabled the cash plan in the face of some pretty staunch disapproval from fellow board members. He suggested other incentives, however, like a field trip to an amusement park.
Again, that's a bribe, and it's fine by me, but it should also be merit-based. You know, like sports. Tell the kids at the beginning of the school year: You don't hit a certain GPA, you ain't goin' to Disneyland (or, more likely, Hershey Park). Mark my words: You put caveats on rewards that have hither-to been perceived as inalienable rights and kids will respond accordingly. Just see how many moan at first, then put their heads down and get to work.

Granted, this won't work on everyone. I wouldn't have given a damn about a field trip when I was in school and $50 was easy enough to find if I really needed it, so there's a percentage you just won't be able to reach with anything short of the threat of being press-ganged aboard a Somali pirate ship (which, come to think of it, probably wouldn't have worked on me, either).
For the most part, though, bribes get results - doesn't matter if you're in the Senate or a hostile foreign land or high school. So I say by all means, hit the feds up for the funding and spread the cash around a little.
Just don't let 'em spend it all at Harrah's.

Political shell games never pay out

2009-04-29T12:41:00.004-04:00

I didn't get the chance to include this the other day in the sidebar about veteran GOP Sen. Arlen Specter switching parties (again) but Springfield Republican Party head Mike Puppio pointed out - and I have to agree - that gaining Specter is no win for the Democrats.
In fact, it could very easily become a loss when all is said and done next November.

The reasoning basically goes like this: Pat Toomey, the strongest current contender for the GOP nomination in the 2010 race, potentially could have beat Specter in the primary. But anyone the Democrats put up (short of Baby Huey) would likely take out Toomey in November.
Result: 100 percent, full-blooded Democrat taking over for Specter in 2011.

With Specter's switch, however (plus swift backing from the Dems, who already say they won't endorse another candidate) Toomey can stop playing to the ultraconservatives and move more to the middle, while hammering Specter on his principles (or lack thereof) over the party switch.
Toomey, who many regard as a raving lunatic, is undeniably out of step with Republicans in the Southeast, but he could find a good deal of support from conservatives in the west on those two prongs alone. Compound that with Delco Democratic Party leader Cliff Wilson's observation that Specter could lose votes from new, young Democrats and independents if they see his switch as simple political self-preservation (which, you know, duh) and the odds of the seat remaining GOP would be at least even.
On top of that, if Republicans were to run someone like, say, Tom Ridge, who could defeat Toomey in the primary standing on his head, Specter could be in real trouble.
Result: 100 percent, full-blooded Republican taking over for Specter in 2011.

Now, let's say Specter somehow mystically wins out in November against whomever (which is entirely possible, though not full-on plausible).
Result: 40 percent Democrat taking over for a 60 percent Republican (himself) in 2011.

So, as Mike asked, what did Democrats really gain?
Not a whole hell of a lot, it would seem.

On a completely unrelated note, today marks Obama's 100th day in office. The television program "Lost" also airs its 100th episode tonight on ABC. Coincidence? Or do you get the feeling Obama wasn't supposed to leave the island?

No thanks, I prefer coffee

2009-04-15T17:14:00.004-04:00

It's tax day, and I am, quite understandably, non-plussed with my current fiscal outlook (see previous post). What with the filing, and the hatred for rich folks, and the impotent, all-consuming rage, it's probably going to take at least my weight in alcohol (and maybe yours, too) just to get to sleep tonight.
But even with all that, you know what I'm not doing today? Anything involving teabags. If you feel like dumping some tea into anything other than a cup today, go right ahead. Just do so with the knowledge that you, sir, are a Class A Nimrod. Aside from the fact that you would be completely missing the point of the original Boston tea party, there is also something to be said about how little anyone, anywhere, at any time (Fox News aside) will care about your little stunt.
No one in finance, no one in government, I mean absolutely no one is going to care how many bags of tea you dip into anything. And they will never care unless those teabags start choking up the system somehow - say, a trading floor or international credit card company.
Until you start actually messing with the Powers That Be in an effective manner, rather than playing dress up with your bowling buddies? Yeah, you ain't changing a damn thing, my nimrod friend.
But, you know, good luck with that anyhow. Have fun at your little "teabagging party" with your revolutionary friends. Down by the docks. Wearing frilly blouses. I'm sure no one will be laughing around mouthfuls of caviar at your expense.

Really, Mr. Tax Man?

2009-04-14T19:49:00.010-04:00

You want another 800 bucks? What the hell did you do with the $5,349 I already gave you last year?
Oh, that's right, you tossed it all in a desert and set it on fire. Or tossed it all over Wall Street and let them set it on fire.
Bravo, Douchie Le Rue.
Well, you know what, government? I'm not buying you any more toys to play with if you can't treat what I've already given you with respect.
I mean, seriously. What the hell is the matter with you? I'm lucky if I pull $420 a week with all the damn taxes you're hitting me with already, and now you want even more? For what? A new war? You barely did anything with the last one you started.
And that take-home figure, by the way, has not gone up in three years. Oh sure, I'm in a union and I get contractual raises, which is all well and good. But I also pay more every year in non-income taxes and medicare and all sorts of other little odds and bodkins that get sucked out of my check on a weekly basis. So I never actually see more money go into my pocket, but you jerks at the IRS don't care because on paper I made more in 2008 than in 2007.
Well, hooray for me.

And I ain't complaining about having a job, because lord knows that's not easy to come by these days (if you're not related to someone at the government center). Hell, I just watched someone put out 100-plus resumes before getting anything, but COME ON.
It's like if I'm not spitting out half a dozen ignorant, unwanted rats to suck at your teat or entering into some ill-advised, legally-binding relationship (read: marriage), I don't get any break at all. Where's all this compassion for the working man I hear so much about? Huh?

Oh, that's right. I get an extra $11 a week in my paycheck. Woop-de-freakin-doo. Let's see now, $11 ... times 52 ... carry the staggering debt, and that comes to ... ONE TENTH OF THE FREAKIN' MONEY YOU'RE SUCKING OUT OF MY WITHERED HUSK!
Well, bad news there, buckaroo, because I ain't got it. As of this writing, I have 22 cents in the bank. I am not even kidding.
So you say, "That's okay, we can work out a payment plan." Oh, goodie, can we? "Sure," you say. "It'll only cost you $45 up front, an undefined percentage of interest, plus penalties for any late payments if you should happen to come up short one month because, you know, YOU'VE ALREADY BEEN TAXED TO DEATH."

Well, forget that, man. And forget you. I ain't playing your stupid reindeer games anymore. What're you gonna do, send me to debtors prison (read: Georgia)? Good! I'll alert the media. Let's make this a big, fat, ugly political statement. I'm gonna enjoy being an economic martyr, roasting on the cross for the sins of bankers everywhere, critiquing all the horribly stupid garbage you rich bastards throw cash at like its a damn carny game with baseballs and milk bottles.

First item I'll be shouting incoherently about from the stockade? You guessed it: bailouts for the perversely rich, all of whom I would at this point like to bludgeon to death with a stack of junk bonds.
Unless you're giving that bailout money directly to me in a zero-sum exchange for your insane economic policies, then forget it. Look, this one should be easy: Let poorly-run companies die, that well-run companies might thrive. That's capitalism. Get with it, or I'll set you on fire.

Number two? Iraq War. You say we gotta stay around to make sure we "safely" redeploy over an 18-month period? Wrong again, jackass. First of all, the longer you're there, the less safe it becomes. Secondly, if an invading force finally decides to leave a country, I promise you, I guaran-freaking-tee you, the natives will not only help you pack, they will drive you at break-neck speeds to the airport without firing bullet one.
Which oughta free up a few billion, doncha think?

Or hey, how about we don't put ads for MONEY on television anymore, huh? You think we really need a $20 million advertising campaign telling people there's a new Washington dollar coin? No. No we don't. We'll see the things when they get into circulation. It's not like I won't figure out it's legal tender and just start throwing the stupid things away in the trash cans next to Septa ticket machines (which is the only place you'll ever see them dispensed, by the way, because FOR THE LAST FREAKING TIME, THIS IS NOT EUROPE AND WE DON'T WANT YOUR STUPID COIN MONEY).

And that's just a taste of my wrath, Mr. Tax Man, I got plenty more where that came from. Enough to write a book - or a manifesto, maybe?
It's up to you. Do what's right and this can all go away. If you don't, well ...
Then I guess I'll see you in court.
Sucker.

Headlines The Onion overlooked this week

2009-04-12T04:21:00.002-04:00

"Area Man's Minimum-Wage Paycheck $11 Less Intolerable Than Before Obama"

"'No, Jer Booty!' Jokes on Rise in Wake of Piracy."

"Chitwood to Media: 'No Comment.'"

A brand new Afghanistan!

2009-04-02T17:14:00.003-04:00

The Associated Press reported today that a new Afghan law makes it "legal for men to rape their wives ...(according to) human rights groups and some Afghan lawmakers."
Oh, a new law about wife rape. What, was the old one getting a bit outdated?
"As long as the husband is not traveling, he has the right to have sexual intercourse with his wife every fourth night," according to the AP's dissection of the law. "Unless the wife is ill or has any kind of illness that intercourse could aggravate, the wife is bound to give a positive response to the sexual desires of her husband."
Great. Good job, Karzai, you slimy oaf. Tell me again why we haven't framed some pawn for assassinating this guy yet?
Now listen, I don't usually agree with people that just want to nuke the living hell out of whole chunks of desert, but I have had it with these people. They are never going to join us here in the 21st century - not societally, anyway.
To which I say: Fine. You want to remain in the 15th century as a society, you take all that comes with that. We'll stick you in a bubble and take away every advance made since, oh, let's say, 1500.
Which means no guns. Sorry, you'll have to make do with longbows. It also means no bombs, which is nice for the rest of us. No schools for the poor (not that anyone there is taught from any other text than the Qua'ran anyway). How about no cars? Don't worry, the exercise will do you good when you're heading to the candle shop because hey - NO ELECTRICITY, NUMBNUTS.
No farm equipment beyond a yak.
No water treatment plants.
No packaged foods.
No digital watches.
No plywood.
No #$%^ing air conditioners.
You starting to get the picture here?
Hey, you want to live in the past, I'll be more than happy to provide that for you. Just hope you know how to build a fire without matches there, Skippy. Enjoy your pitiful medieval existence!

Dear Buffalo Wild Wings,

2009-03-28T18:21:00.003-04:00

We get it. Anyone who has watched more than two hours of the men's NCAA tournament gets it. You have food and beer and people enjoy being in your restaurant. So much so that they wish they could move in.
Message received.
Now please, for the love of gourd, stop playing this horrendously imbecilic spot 600 times over the course of a single game. Or at least play a different commercial. I know you got 'em - you got one for every sport except Skee-ball, and they're all equally interchangeable. Just because they don't involve the sport actually being played on the television at the time the spot runs doesn't mean we won't come away with the message, BECAUSE IT'S THE SAME %&*$ING MESSAGE IN EVERY COMMERCIAL, DELIVERED IN EXACTLY THE SAME STUPID @$%*ING MANNER.

I mean, I've seen your basketball-geared commercial so many times, I can quote it verbatim:
DUDE 1: "I love watching sports in this gross chain restaurant soooooo much."
DUDE 2: "I also love this, and yet the sporting event we are watching is drawing to a close."
DUDE 1: "We should contrive to extend the outcome of said sporting event, that we might stay here longer or, if possible, forever."
DUDE 2: "Agreed."
BARTENDER: "Consider it done."
Cut to athlete getting nailed in his danglers/receiving blunt force trauma.
ALL: "Hooray!"

Ask anyone I know - if I can remember anything you've done that well, with my memory? Well then you have a serious problem with repeating yourself. Time to change it up.

Warmly,
The Ayatollah of Rock N Rollah
(dictated but not read)

Remembering advanced foods

2009-03-27T20:13:00.007-04:00

We all know about the so-called “four food groups” of grains, fruits, vegetables, meats, and dairy, yeah?
But granted you have the ability to count, or at the very least aren’t a thalidomide baby, you could figure out using the fingers of just one hand that there are actually five categories in that list provided by the United States Department of Agriculture.
The reason for this is twofold. First – and this is a little-known secret – the staff of the USDA actually is wholly made up of thalidomide babies who can’t count worth a damn, which is why they want you to eat, like, 12 servings of grains every day and drink two gallons of milk.
Second, there are far more than just the “four” food groups pushed on us by The Man, though most of these have been lost to the sands of time.

See, the USDA first began issuing periodic food guides in 1916. These would explain what Americans should eat so they could remain strong enough to fend off the ever-growing menace of the Bolsheviks, or whatever was threatening our way of life at any particular moment.
As political dissidents changed with the times, so did the guide. By 1934, Americans were urged to eat up to four government bonds per half-hour, in addition to the regular fruits, grains, scrap metal, coal dust, and other items necessary to fight “Jerry” (as the propagandist literature of the time had labeled Ba’athist France).

The guide reached its zenith in 1956, when the USDA consolidated nationally and regionally accepted food groups, which it then broke down into the “basic” and “advanced” categories.
The “four basic food groups” are all almost any of us remember, as the term was later amended to simply “the four food groups.”
The other 13 groups in the “advanced” category were all but forgotten, like that other guy from Wham! But one – Legumes – recently made its way back into the fold during a 1991 revision of the guide, giving hope to “advanced” food enthusiasts such as myself.
To recap, or for those simply unfamiliar with the remaining 12, they are:
Pickles, Candy, Coffee, Alcohol, Smoke, Plastics, Cocaine, Government Bonds, Cephalopods, Glass, Ink, and so-called “Crumbs.” (This last refers to Bose-Einstein particles absorbed through the skin, which aren’t technical a type of “food” in the strictest sense, but were thought at one point in the stupider parts of country to “put hair on yer chest.”)

It’s important to note that many of these were abandoned or forgotten with good reason – government bonds aren’t cheap, after all. But with our nation threatened by terrorists as never before, perhaps it is time to revisit the olden days, when men drank ink and pickled rabbits feet were consumed daily for good luck in our war against "The Reds."
And though I and others of my ilk feel a good many of these foods could – nay, should – one day rejoin their brothers in the "basic" food quadrangle, we also understand some consumer precautions need to be taken and information must be made available to the public.
For while a strict diet of cocaine might have helped plant the seeds of modern psychiatry in the mind of Sigmund Freud, no one today would dispute that some of the other foodstuffs mentioned here could have adverse effects if consumed in too great quantities. Remember, these are called "advanced" for a reason!

Eating too much candy, for instance, can cause this reaction:

While too much smoke produces something akin to this:

And, of course, it’s up to you how many cephalopods you enjoy on a daily basis, but keep in mind the end results could be devastating:

But don't despair America. By building upon a mastery of the basic food groups - and with a little luck - you too will eventually be able to find the balance in these advanced groups that best suits you. Why, just look at what they've done for me:

Fun facts about PPA employees

2009-03-27T10:21:00.003-04:00

1. Each has murdered at least one kitten.
2. Their favorite snack is their own young.
3. Many in the higher echelon are actually direct descendants of Adolph Hitler.
4. They've never kissed a girl - and never will.
5. Their cellulite-ridden thighs and buttocks resemble a two-gallon dollop of cottage cheese.
6. Those who evolve to the point of opposable thumbs are immediately fired. And by fired, I mean executed.
7. The meter maids were all part of a secret experiment that replaced their human brains with that of a dog or, in some instances, large raccoon.
8. Everyone in middle management sleeps together. Upside-down. In a cave near Fairmount Park.
9. They keep the phone operators starved nearly to the point of death to achieve maximum rudeness.
10. They piddle through their small, secretive, unsatisfying lives seeking only the enjoyment garnered from projecting their pain onto others through a vicious and vulture-like ticketing system, needless bureaucracy, and general evil. EVIL I SAY!

Ah, we kid here.
But seriously, if you work for the PPA, don't ever tell me, because the first thing I will do is punch you in the face, and the second thing I will do is stand on your windpipe until something pops.

New toppings at the ninja-owned Pizza Hut

2009-03-22T14:11:00.002-04:00

Pepperonin
Sausagi Yojimbo
Anjinchovies
Mushroomaru
Olives

On killing machines

2009-02-25T17:14:00.003-05:00

Lockheed Martin has a hunter/killer in development.
I'm not kidding. Look at this thing:

Now, look at this:

The "Multiple Kill Vehicle" (which has a nice ring to it) is ostensibly an anti-ballistic missile system designed for use in space to intercept incoming ICBMs, according to the LM press release.

At least, until Skynet comes online.
I need to go change my underwear.

On bar-hopping.

2009-02-20T11:00:00.002-05:00

It seems that the only people I meet during visits to Media bars these days are paranoid megalomaniacs with severe delusions of grandeur.
Many of them know I'm a reporter, see, so they know that every scrap of conversation they have will be printed, verbatim, in the pages of the Delco Daily Times if I'm close enough to hear it - despite the fact that I can't even be bothered to remember half their names (all of which are terribly generic things like "Steve" and "Paul" (I think)).
Yes, you better watch your tongues around me, because I can't wait to waste column inches relaying your semi-coherent opinions out-of-context and for no particular reason whatsoever.
I mean, geez - what do you think Sound Off is for?
Which reminds me, I saw one in there today criticizing "the thinking of many of our young people today" in response to a People Poll answer. I have no idea what the question was, but the answer, according to this person, was: If it doesn't affect us, who cares?
This demonstrates "what is wrong with our country today," apparently. But let me, in turn, pose this question:
Pearl Harbor ring any bells?

On Whitey

2009-02-19T18:26:00.007-05:00

All right stop, collaborate and listen - Steele's back with a brand new invention. Kind of.
Yes, friends, Michael Steele, the face of the new, minority-friendly GOP, recently told to the Washington Times that the party of one idea needs a make-over.
"But how will he accomplish this?" you might well ask. "By pushing for the closure of corporate tax loopholes? By setting new policy on obstructionist legislators? How about health care subsidies for the poor?"
What are ya, simple?
No, Steele has his sights set on the bigger picture: tricking uneducated urban youths into thinking the GOP reflects their values by throwing a lot of outdated urban slang around.
"We want to convey that the modern-day GOP looks like the conservative party that stands on principles," he told the Times. "But we want to apply them to urban-surburban hip-hop settings."
Steel said - and I swear I'm not making this up - the new campaign will be "off the hook" and "beyond cutting-edge," whatever the hell that means.
This, from the same man who called Obama's stimulus package "bling bling," is no surprise. It also won't be a surprise when the campaign fails worse than the McSquid in any other market but Edo.
I haven't seen this kind of blatant pandering since Mitt Romney demonstrated his firm grasp on hip-hop culture to a group of potential black voters when he earnestly inquired (about five years too late) who had let the dogs out. It was, until now, the whitest thing I'd ever seen a Republican do - aside from slash funding for education and funnel it into defense, or approve tax cuts for the wealthy, of course.
But now we've got Steele - the rich man's Barack Obama - who is going to save the Grand Old Party by turning it into the Grand Old Par-tay!
Admittedly, it is a bold and stupid plan, but Steele is not concerned. After all, out-of-touch white folks have been hawking this same gibberish for years to "urban types" in an attempt to demonstrate that they, too, are "down."
If it wasn't insulting coming from them, why in the world would it be insulting coming from a guy who was undeniably installed as the RNC chairman by virtue of simply being a black man?

Oh.

On zombification

2009-02-18T18:51:00.006-05:00

Following the release of Seth Grahame-Smith's flesh-eating redux of the classic Jane Austen novel "Pride and Prejudice" - dubbed "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" - the interwebs have been virtually (as there is no other way) awash with zombified titles of other classics.
Virgin Media, in fact, posed the question, "What movies could be improved by zombies?" The answer, of course, is "All of them." But for some reason, Virgin gave us only the following nine:

"Bambi 2: Fawn of the Dead"
"Kramer Vs. Kramer Vs. Zombies"
"There Will Be Brains"
"Undead Poets Society"
"Zomdog Millionaire"
"Quantum of Zombies"
"Frost/Nixon/Zombies"
"ZOMB-E"
"Zombie Balboa"

Some of these, like "Bambi 2" and "ZOMB-E," are actually inventive and cute. Other, intensely stupid titles ("Zomdog Millionaire") make about as much sense as "Throw Mama From the Brains." Which is to say, none at all.

However, this list is not nearly cute or stupid enough, which is why I've written nine of my own.
To wit:

"Run, Zombie, Run"
"To John Foo: Thanks for the Brains, Zombie Newmar"
"Lawnmower Man 3: Lawn of the Dead"
"The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Liver"
"Some Like it Rotten"
"Nom with the Limbs"
"Harold and Kumar Get Eaten by Zombies" (also works with "Ernest")
"Headshots: The Legend of Curly's Gun"
And, of course,
"Y Tu Zombie, Tambien"

As always, feel free to put your two cents in with some other titles. In fact, let's open it up a little more with some classic sci-fi flicks:
"Pride and Predator."
"Tron/Nixon."
"I, Robocop."

On the ladder

2009-02-12T22:09:00.004-05:00

I saw an ad the other day for "The Ladders - $100k+ jobs for $100k+ talent." I told my girlfriend she should look for a job there, but she said the only jobs posted would require graduate degrees and all like that.
Neither of us have those things, but I say we just fudge the resumes and look for jobs as bank CEOs anyway. I figure if we screw up enough, we get golden parachutes, and if not, we get bonuses. Hell, we'd get bonuses anyway. You get me into a high enough tax bracket, I might even start voting Republican. Suddenly the party of one idea could be looking like a pretty sweet deal.

Also, just as an aside, I don't know why everybody's freaking out about this octo-mom thing. I mean, I had eight babies in my tummy once - those little suckers are delicious. (Rimshot!)
Thank you and goodnight.

On quitting

2008-12-30T01:59:00.003-05:00

No, not smoking, but look for that soon. Or at least "soon" in my universe, which could be anywhere from, like, two months to 700 years, depending on how lazy I'm feeling (and how well my new immortality serum works out).
Sorry I haven't been around much these days - I've been living in some seriously hot sin and it is just exhausting.
But I have returned with a brand new post for you surly, bored teenagers out there working those soul-crushing, dead-end, fast-food jobs, desperately wanting to quit but without the brainpower to come up with an awesome enough way to do it on yr own.
Well, I got it. And all you need is a white Captain-and-Tenille-style hat and light-blue handkerchief.
The basic premise is very simple: Wait for the peak of the lunch/dinner rush, adorn yrself with said garments - 'kerchief around the neck - and come bursting out of the back screaming, "IT'S PEOPLE! TACO BELL IS PEOPLE!"
Of course, you should shout the name of wherever it is you work, not just "Taco Bell." While that would be funny in a Wendy's, say, it does lose some of the impact because that's not what people there are eating, obviously. You don't want them to go, "Well, who cares? I'm eating this other stuff." Right? Right.
Feel free to improvise as well. Fall around, claw at your throat, and add a few more Chuck Heston lines in. Grab a customer with a big ol' gob of Whopper stuffed in his face and say, "You gotta tell 'em! You gotta 'em it's peoplllllle!" in that choking way of his.
I should also note I think this would work especially well at the S'Barro's at Springfield Mall. And if you can tip me off as to when it'll happen, I will pay you $10 just so I can be there to witness it.
Five bucks more if you find the most slovenly bastard in the joint and tell him he "truly is the king of kings."

On Black Friday

2008-11-28T17:48:00.003-05:00

A 34-year-old Wal*Mart employee was trampled to death in Valley Stream, N.Y. today when a horde of slavering ghouls broke down the doors at 5 a.m. for a black Friday sale.
And who could blame them? Did you see the deals that place was offering? I mean, these people were totally justified in not only waiting outside the store since Thursday morning - making the sacrifice to skip Thanksgiving with their families in order to provide them with cut-rate prices on My Little Pony and G.I. Joe come X-mas morning - but also in turning a metal security door into an accordion in their blind shopping lust, additionally injuring several employees trying to help their departed co-worker and a woman who is eight months pregnant. (The woman and fetus are reportedly doing A-OK, by the way.)
When told they had to clear out because the store was closing due to the death, shoppers humbly complied and left while expressing their sincerest condolences.
Naw, I'm just kidding - they became enraged at the prospect and went right on shopping.
Because after all, what's a little complicity in murder compared to getting your fat, ugly talons on an $800 50-inch plasma TV?
Huh?
What's a little common human decency in the face of $70 digital cameras?
Eh?
Why should anyone be asked to behave like a rational human being under such circumstances, instead of a foul, piggish, stupid thing fit only to be shoved in a box and mailed to the filthiest corner of industrial China to produce lead-lined toys for the next 40 years in a slave camp?
Why indeed, with savings like these?
Meanwhile, in Palm Desert, Calif., two men shot each other to death in a Toys R' Us, either over an argument about a toy or in some gang-related foolishness.
Great.
Awesome.
Good job, America.

On the PPA

2008-11-15T03:08:00.003-05:00

Y'know, I appreciate the fact that I can pay a parking ticket online, but I miss writing "choke on it" on the memo line.
Also, the $1.50 online fee just seems excessive.

On absent friends

2008-11-13T03:15:00.006-05:00

It seems like everything makes me want to cry these days. Everything. Either because it's too damn sad or too damn beautiful. Or maybe I'm just too goddamn morose. Anyway, it's always there.
I'm off to yet another funeral Friday. Forty-three years old. Third heart attack, or so I hear. I'm heading that way too and I know it, but it still ain't enough to steer me off that track. I'm smoking a cigarette right now and drinking a beer and hoping to god I can get enough sleep tonight that when I grind my teeth in the office tomorrow it won't be because of the thing that finally makes me take a fire axe to my goddamn computer and call it a day. I'll probably eat a cheeseburger.
These people, they always die of something. Not old age, but something. Drugs, suicide, murder, murder-suicide, AIDS, cancer...
Knowing them, it makes you wonder how you're going to end up. And how much you'll leave unfinished. I'm always worried that for me, it'll be a half-read book. If there's an afterlife, I'll have to wander the globe searching for someone reading that book so my spook can finish it over their shoulder before i can ascend, or whatever.
But what if there's a nuclear war and no one reads books anymore?
A long time ago, I used to run with Dan Gaubatz. He was like no one I'd met before or since. "Puckish," his ex-girlfriend told the papers, and it suited. I was 15, he was about 20, a Swarthmore student and budding comedian. I don't know why he ever put up with me, but he did. There was nothing I could realistically offer, no angle for him. Dan didn't need one. He was that kind of guy. Used to let me crawl in his kitchen window and crash on his couch if I needed to. Cooked me dinner. Never touched a drop except on his 21st birthday, when he had a couple beers. No drugs, no nothing. Bike messenger. To this day, I can't drink Red Stripe without thinking of him.
His roommate found him "unresponsive" in his bed one night. His big, stupid heart gave out, something about a busted valve. He had either just been engaged, or soon would be. They put a few ropes up on the campus in his honor, near the dorms, with a plaque about his "playful nature" or some such gibberish. Like that was supposed to help.
At the funeral, I wore a torn black rain coat and felt like a damn fool. A girl I barely knew kept weeping and dabbing her eyes with this hideous glob of tissue and saying a sentence over and over to me, but I couldn't understand her. I didn't care what she was saying - I just wanted to bend her over a pew and show her what life was all about. Death does funny things to people. It's always made me want to screw, which, obviously, is the opposite of death.
I later found out she was trying to tell me that his parents wanted me to have his bike. A Cannondale, top of the line. The same one he used as a bike messenger. I used it to run drugs either to or from my house.
Some scumbag later stripped it for parts in Richmond. I don't know what ever happened to the frame. I still have the gears the cops recovered, but that doesn't seem like enough.
Maybe I'll do something with them one day, something artsy that he'd like.
Yeah, and maybe I won't be found "unresponsive" one day, too.
Still, it's nice to dream.

Zack Parsons nails it

2008-11-07T21:45:00.004-05:00

Here's a link to an article over at SomethingAwful.com that one of its regular contributors banged out today on all the ignorant, petulent and misguided wailings from both sides of the aisle.
You probably won't like it. I thought it was spot on.
http://www.somethingawful.com/d/news/flying-car-sucks.php?page=1

On 2009

2008-11-07T20:59:00.003-05:00

No question, the tide turned in Delco this year. One need only check the numbers to see that. Where Republicans once held a lofty 2-1 margin over registered Democrats, there is now less than a 20,000 person difference between the two camps.
One local Democratic leader recently told me this represented a "sea change" in Delco politics: Out with the old guard, in with the new blood. It's only a matter of time before we have Democrats on county council, taking over local school boards, etc. etc.
Well, call me a cynic, but I'm skeptical. This swing for the Dems, I think, can be wholly attributed to the high interest in the presidential election and the on-the-ground efforts of the local Obama team; nothing more.
Rudy Giuliani might want to take note, by the way, that when you have a community organizer heading up the ticket, that might mean the people working under him will have a pretty good notion of how to organize a community to do things like, say, vote.
But whether the local Democratic Party will be able to take any lessons away from those grassroots efforts and capitalize on the momentum of a presidential win in an off-year is yet to be seen. I mean, let's be realistic here - while many of the voters who came out Tuesday aren't likely to jump ship from their Democratic Party registration, they've also already done what they set out to do: vote for Barack Obama. And let's not forget there was a lot of ticket-splitting for incumbent Republicans. So if they come back in high numbers next year for any local races whatsoever, I'll be shocked.
Democrats should also keep in mind that the GOP is still the majority party in Delco and they're just spoiling for a rematch.
A historic victory for the Dems? Yes, absolutely. But a sea change? Much like a universal health care plan that works, I'll believe it when I see it.

On post-election blues

2008-11-06T23:20:00.003-05:00

I take back every word. I'm soooooo booooored without this stupid election to cover. I almost had to write about Philly's budget woes today, that's how bad it is.
Funny thing is, now that it's over, some guy sent me an email chastising me for inserting my "Republican bias" into every story I wrote.
Really?
Moi?
Guy must not read this thing.
Hell, I get told even by horrible bigots that I'm pretty damn fair. It doesn't always hold, but, you know, I try. I covered things straight that even a child could call shenanigans on. (I mean - saying the PADC is attacking Nick Miccarelli's war record because of a Web site that said he "fought" to re-elect Heckle and Jerkle in 2004? What is this, amateur hour?)
But I guess that's all behind us now.
Obama's gonna be president. McCain's gonna, hopefully, go back to the guy he was eight years ago. Good ol' Joe Biden can finally say whatever damn fool thing pops into his head without any real fear of retribution. And Palin? Oh golly. Oh gosh. That pinhead is done, donchaknow.
She's a joke. No - she's a punchline. The only gig I could see her getting after this is a short-lived daytime TV spot called "The Palin Doctrine." Or maybe just "Sarah," which would be written across the screen in sassy cursive lettering by a cheap CGI tube of red lipstick before each episode. Like Morton Downey's teeth. Remember that guy? Yeah. Get ready to not remember Sarah Palin either.
Unless she comes back as the GOP candidate in 2012, in which case Democrats will dance naked in the streets with the sure knowledge that Obama just got another four years.
Granted he's still alive by then.

What, too soon?

On the state of the onion

2008-11-05T05:55:00.002-05:00

USA! USA! USA! USA!
Man, I don't care who you were rooting for - you look me in the eye and tell me you aren't proud of your country for what it just did.
This is huge.

On the election eve

2008-11-03T19:51:00.003-05:00

THANK CHRIST!
Seriously? I think this stupid thing took five years off my life.

On the 7th debate

2008-10-29T18:27:00.005-04:00

We in the newspaper industry are constantly hampered by space. For any given story, there's a general rule of 12-14 inches, at 40 words per inch. At the outside, we can go to 15.
I have routinely broken that rule during coverage of the 7th Congressional District race between incumbent Democrat Joe Sestak and Republican challenger Craig Williams, because many of the issues the two clash on are enormously complex (I defy anyone to explain FISA in 600 words or less).
I broke it again Wednesday, much to the chagrin of editors, I'm sure, in covering the single debate between the candidates at Swarthmore College. But I barely scratched the surface of the topics covered in the two-hour event, choosing to balance at least some of what was discussed with a nearly equal amount of crowd reaction.
People said they were impressed by both candidates Wednesday, even if their stances on the issues differed ideologically from the person telling me so, and it really was an interesting and highly substantive debate, if a little too long.
Williams, I thought, came off very well. He had the dual advantage of a simplified message in terms of what he would do differently as well as being able to criticize his opponent's record, which is the staple for any challenger.
Sestak was therefor often forced to defend that record, also the norm for the incumbent, which I think he pulled off equally well. But explaining why you did or did not do something is almost always more complicated than explaining why you would or would not do something, and I thought at times he was bogged down with that task.
Sestak is incredibly well versed on the issues and there can be little doubt he is a work horse. Even staunch Republicans will admit this.
He is also, I think, more or less universally liked (or at least respected for his record of constituent service) while Williams has had to combat the disadvantage of zero name recognition and far less funding in a political atmosphere already unfriendly to the Republican Party due to problems at the national level.
But Sestak can be hard to follow at times because he gets mired in the details of the bills he's voted on or helped craft, and his sentence structure too often implodes upon itself as the pitch of his voice ebbs and flows. Williams, using short declaratives and a smooth cadence, could easily be seen as the victor here as far as message delivery, which was really what he needed.
All in all a solid debate, I thought, and I highly recommend interested readers watch the full tape on Comcast Channel 76. I haven't received word yet exactly when it will air, but we should know by Friday, at which point I'll let you know.
Peace, and good luck to both the candidates.

On Kirkland

2008-10-29T13:06:00.004-04:00

All apologies to state Rep. Thaddeus Kirkland, D-159, of Chester, whom I unintentionally snubbed in my Barack Obama rally story today.
Kirkland was reportedly instrumental in bringing Sen. Obama, D-Ill. to Widener University Tuesday, and I certainly meant no disrespect in failing to mention his presence on stage, but I couldn't see the damn thing from where I was huddling for shelter (see previous post) and if he identified himself, I didn't hear it.
U.S. Rep. Bob Brady, D-1, of Philadelphia, said who he was, or I wouldn't have known who was speaking, as did U.S. Rep. Joe Sestak, D-7, of Edgemont. Ed Rendell didn't, as far as I remember, but his voice is unmistakable. I probably should know Kirkland's voice by now, having spoken to him countless times, but apparently I don't.
At any rate, sorry Thaddeus. I don't know if there will be a correction, but at least there's this.

On advance teams

2008-10-28T19:02:00.004-04:00

Barack Obama needs to shore up his campaign workers. Fo' reals.
Tuesday's rally at Widener University was already going to be unpleasant enough for those simply watching from the crowd, but for the local press, it quickly turned into an exercise in frustration.
See, local press is usually told to be at these things about two hours early. Democrat, Republican, doesn't matter. All advance teams basically have the same marching orders.
Including that the traveling press, which normally arrives about 20 minutes ahead of the candidate, is given preferential treatment.
Now, they do pay for a good deal of this stuff (well, not them, but their news organizations) including food, coffee and tents for outdoor events like Tuesday's.
But when the local press is told to show up two hours early to an outdoor rally when it's freezing and raining outside, wouldn't you think the advance people would let them wait inside the sizable and nearly empty tent set up for the traveling press corps?
Yeah, so would I. Which is why, when I was kicked out of the tent at 8:30 a.m. for being the lowly local press - unclean and unfit to huddle for warmth in their shelter - I quickly assessed the situation in words unfit to print here, but which rhyme with "mucking mule spit."
Dan Hanson, Widener's head of PR, unfortunately caught the brunt of the grumblings from the local press, despite it not actually being his fault. To his credit, Hanson was out in the rain with us, for the most part, and he helped me get space for my laptop bag in the tent so my computer wouldn't be ruined by the rain.
I suppose I could have set the thing up on one of the two dozen or so folding tables that had power-strips running to them - outside, in the rain - but for some reason the idea didn't thrill me.
(And while I'm on the subject, who the hell set up those tables and what were they thinking - that we'd actually plug in, with our equipment rotting in the puddles quickly forming on the warped, uneven tabletops?)
So we huddled. Under smaller portable pavilions without sides, from which you couldn't see a damn thing. For two hours.
By the time Obama came on, my feet felt like marble and I could barely force my claw-like hands to take more than a few feeble notes, but at least by that point the traveling press had showed up and - surprise! - didn't give a damn if we shared their tent. They probably would've told the Obama advance crew to pound sand if they had been there earlier.
Sean Smith, one of the local Obama contacts, later told me he agreed with my original assessment and gave the advance crew a tongue-lashing as well. Not that it made a lick of difference, but it was nice to hear he went to bat for us.
Meanwhile, it looks like Obama's election night preparations in Chicago's Grant Park aren't going to be too favorable to the press, either.
According to Lynn Sweet at the Chicago Sun-Times, the campaign is charging usury amounts for access - $935 to get into a file center, where the Obama spokesmen will be hanging out, and $880 at the minimum for riser space to get a view of the action for broadcast.
McCain's prices for his election night headquarters at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel ballroom aren't much better, at an estimated $695 per-person. Like Obama's package, that covers space, power, Internet, TV and food.
Sweet isn't looking for a hand-out on this one, but she rightly calls the Obama camp's steep prices "an outrageous pay to play plan that caters to national elite outlets with deep pockets."
She does note an Obama spokesman told her the file center charge "just covers costs and they are not turning a profit on this," but unless they're throwing in a bottle of Dom and a pure-bred Schnauzer, I highly doubt that's right. As in correct or morally justifiable, your choice.
Unlike McCain's coverage plan, there will at least be a free space for reporters at the Obama HQ who don't want (or can't pony up for) the goodies included in the filing center package, but it will be "outdoors, unassigned and may have obstructed views."
Sounds familiar.
Meanwhile, I'm wondering who to send my doctor's bills to when the pneumonia kicks in.

On musical accompaniment

2008-10-26T21:30:00.002-04:00

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Gibberish - The Musical!

On the race

2008-10-20T01:04:00.010-04:00

Barack Obama has killed a man!
Is what I imagine GOP robo-calls in Nevada will soon say about 64-year-old Edmond Dewey Swensen, who dropped dead of a massive heart attack Oct. 18 while campaigning for the Illinois Senator and Democratic presidential candidate, according to the AP.
You can’t say it’s outside the realm of possibility, considering some of the ridiculous things people are saying in this election.
We actually just got a statement – and good laugh – from Springfield Republican Leader Michael Puppio today criticizing a visit to Chester by "this Marxist candidate" Tuesday, as it forced the Chester Upland School District to cancel school.
"It is not really surprising that this Marxist candidate who states that he wants to redistribute wealth would stoop to an all time low and allow the children in an underperforming school district to be used for his personal gain."
Yes. Shocking, I say, shocking that anyone would use the children of the Chester Upland School District as political pawns. The ultimate irony here being that that is what Republicans in the county have been doing forever.
(I cannot recall, by the way, Puppio ever publicly having said anything at all about CUSD until now. There’s certainly no record of it in our files.)
But here’s the thing: When you get a visit from a presidential candidate, there’s a lot of security involved. When that candidate has also been called a "traitor" (and worse) at rallies for his opponent – with, by the way, absolutely no control from that opponent over the frothing masses calling for Obama's death until chastised by the press – things get a wee bit heavy.
We’re talking Secret Service. Closed roads. Snipers. And probably Ashley Todd.
It wasn’t Obama’s choice to close the district for the day, either. That was left to Superintendent Gregory Thornton, who wasn’t about to send a bunch of kids into that maelstrom.
"Is this an example of the redistribution of wealth that Obama is talking about?" asked Puppio about the costs associated with closing a school district for a single day.
No, but thank God Obama said ‘redistribution of wealth’ rather than ‘shifting the tax burden,’ eh? Gives John McCain one last button to push on his Titanic of a campaign. With any luck, he’ll be able to tie ACORN into this somehow.

Speaking of which, I got an email the other day from a GOP operative that a former ACORN employee would soon be testifying as to the organization’s lackluster quality control.
Which presents something of a disconnect for the Republican party looking to invalidate all of ACORN’s registrations.
See, if ACORN is engaged in rampant voter registration fraud, that implies a purpose to entering fraudulent voter registration applications. But if they’re simply doing shoddy work, that implies they’re just, well, doing shoddy work.
It’s like the left-wingers who decry Bush as village idiot and, at the same time, an evil mastermind; or conservative crazies denouncing Obama’s spiritual upbringing under the inflammatory Rev. Wright while at the same time fearing he is a "secret Muslim."
Anyway, the whole thing is very confusing, but we can all pretty well assume that Pennsylvania is about to become the Florida of 2000 as far as court challenges, and if John McCain loses this one – that is, if the jackasses on the Supreme Court don’t hand it to him after a protracted legal battle – the drumbeat from the Right following this election will be an ACORN-orchestrated stolen election.

On a few unrelated but equally hilarious topics, the AP reported last week that a bank robber Friday made a getaway in high fashion: via limousine.
Yes, apparently a man in Texas held up a Comerica Bank – which, like Barack Obama, sounds dangerously ethnic and should probably therefore be feared – before jumping into the passenger side of a black limo, which sped away, according to the Associated Press. Police say they are looking for the suspect … and the limo.
Meanwhile, in Pontiac, Michigan, the dead were evicted following foreclosure on a funeral home. Five bodies and the cremated remains of 22 people were sent packing Friday from the House of Burns Memorial Chapel, according to the AP, which shows even death is no escape from the crisis on Wall Street.
And in Cleveland, a 56-year-old woman serving as her daughter’s surrogate delivered her own grandchildren!
And then I vomited!
According to a spokesman for the Cleveland Clinic's Hillcrest Hospital in Mayfield Heights, Ohio, Jaci Dalenberg, of Wooster, offered herself as a surrogate when daughter Kim Coseno and her husband were waiting to adopt, the AP reported. The couple used invitro fertilization and embryos were implanted in Dalenberg's uterus. She then spewed forth preemie triplets (triplets!) upon the face of the Earth, none of which, I'm sure, will have any severe psychological problems from being birthed by their grandmother.
And then there's Sony, who recently had to pull first-cut versions of its highly-anticipated Little Big World game, due to background music featuring Diabate's Symmetric Orchestra.
The reason? A track for the music on the "Swinging Safari" stage includes direct quotes from the Quran, which is a big no-no in the Muslim world. I never heard a thing about the track until now, but there was apparently enough backlash when it was incorporated into the game to get the thing recalled.
This isn't the first time this has happened, either. Apparently, bits of the Quran have been finding their way into videogames since the 1990s. Which made me wonder what the hell videogame developers are trying to accomplish until I remembered that an animator I met in L.A. said one of the main tenets of doing background work on Futurama was seeing how many penises he could stick in there, so maybe it's the same sort of joke.
If you're curious, the quotes were "kollo nafsin tha'iqatol mawt," which literally means, “Every soul shall have the taste of death” and "kollo man alaiha fan," which translates to, “All that is on earth will perish.”
Which is disappointing. I always hoped souls would taste like 72 virgins rather than death (which I hear tastes a lot like Sierra Mist).
And finally, Ted Stevens of Alaska, the longest-serving Republican in the Senate, was convicted Monday on seven counts of felony corruption charges. A 12-member federal jury unanimously found Stevens, 84, guilty of lying about home renovations and other gifts he received from an oil contractor valued at up to $250,000. He faces up to five years in prison on each count.
When told of the verdict, Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin said she was glad to hear the jury had cleared Stevens of any wrong-doing.

On odd things

2008-10-16T03:06:00.010-04:00

Alright people, gonna be some changes around here.
In an effort to add some structure to this thing, I've decided to do a weekly round-up of interesting pieces in the news, or at least anything I can get a joke out of. Starting now.
First up, Ringo Starr asked people to stop sending him things. No more singing stuff, no more autographs, no more nothing.
Guess he couldn't handle the three insane people that still write to him anymore. Or he finally received a human head in the mail. Either way, where am I going to send my hair clippings now?!
Also, a judge in Lincoln, Neb. threw out a legislator’s lawsuit against god because the almighty "wasn’t properly served due to his unlisted home address."
Seriously?
Apparently, state Sen. Ernie Chambers had filed a suit last year seeking a permanent injunction against god, claiming the deity had made terroristic threats against Chamber and his constituents, inspired fear and caused “widespread death, destruction and terrorization of millions upon millions of the Earth’s inhabitants.”
Which, when you think back to the causes of every major war (including the war on terror) isn't that far off. I'd go so far as to say it's dead on.
My friend Charlie used to say Jesus is like The Dave Matthews Band - it isn't really the name on the bill that's the problem. It's the followers.
Chambers said he filed the lawsuit to make the point that everyone should have access to the courts, regardless of whether they are rich or poor.
I have no idea how that translates to a lawsuit against god, and apparently the AP didn't think to ask, but whatever.
Despite losing, Chambers, in what I call a stroke of legal genius, decided the judge's ruling was actually in his favor.
“The court itself acknowledges the existence of God,” he said. “A consequence of that acknowledgment is a recognition of God’s omniscience.”
And since god is omniscient, he knows about the lawsuit.
Pretty sneaky, sis.
Chambers has 30 days to file an appeal, but he said Wednesday he hasn’t decided yet. I hope he does. I'd loooove to see this one play out. I honestly can't think of a better way to waste the taxpayers dollars. Iraq, maybe. But that's old hat.
And finally, the Sacramento, California Republican Party has cleared up any question that Democratic Illinois Sen. Barack Obama is, in fact, a terrorist in league with Osama bin Laden.
Yes, in a fair and balanced Web site, Obama and bin Laden were pictured next to one another with the caption: "The difference between Osama and Obama is just a little B.S."
Hahaha! Get it? The only difference between their names is a letter! Also, did you know Obama's middle name is "Hussein?" Just like that guy that was gonna flood with the world with toxic WMDs! The link is so obvious!
See, this is why people just plain don't like the Grand Ol' Party anymore. It's not the fiscal conservatism down the drain, or the disconnect between policy and people, or even the rampant cronyism and disavowal of responsibility - it's the needless demonizing.
Even when faced with a Web site encouraging people to "Waterboard Barack Obama," you know what the Sacramento County Republican leader had to say?
"Some people find it offensive, others do not. I cannot comment on how people interpret things."
That's Craig MacGlashan, husband of Sacramento County Supervisor Roberta MacGlashan, in a story for the Sacramento Bee.
Sure, because who could possibly find the idea of torturing a U.S. Senator and presidential candidate offensive?
MacGlashan, by the way, had one day earlier called messages like "KKK," "white power," and other such crap scrawled on Obama displays "vandalism."
He said the party did not condone such actions (nor did it apparently condemn them)and did not consider it free speech.
Like Dave Barry used to say, I cannot make this stuff up.

On the quick fix

2008-10-10T01:06:00.018-04:00

Those of you who know me might be surprised by my heartfelt endorsement of John McCain for President of the United States.
Whoa! Please! My friends, put down the tomatoes and hear me out on this.
John McCain says he knows how to fix the economy, and he does. The thing is, he doesn't know that it's not his economic policy that will do it.
It's his foreign policy.
I think most of us can agree John McCain is an insanely temperamental bastard hellbent on wiping out roughly 1/3 of the world's inhabitants through ill-conceived wars against "rogue nations" in the name of American-style democracy and freedom (see also: "wiretaps, illegal" and "voters, disenfranchised").
He is admittedly wholly unfit to lead this or any other nation to peace. But prosperity? Well now, that's another matter.

Let's look back to Great Depression I, as I have just dubbed it, and the circumstances that got us out of it. It weren't no sissy New Deal crap, I can tell ya that. Dig a ditch/fill a hole? Get the hell outta here.
No, it was the industrial strength of a nation with Japanese spit in its eye lookin' to pay the insult back tenfold. It put us back on the map, baby! And that was war with just three major world powers - imagine the endless manufacturing that would result (and be at least 50 percent outsourced overseas) if we went against Iran, Syria, Pakistan, North Korea, Iraq and Afghanistan at the same time! Hell, let's throw in Turkey, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Vietnam, Des Moines, Iowa and Cuba for good measure.
In fact, why don't we just say "Asia." Now you're thinking like a maverick! Who in history has ever declared war on an entire continent before? I mean, besides oil barons on the arctic circle. We're making history here! McCain's kind of history - revisionist!
And remember how after Dubya Dubya Eye Eye, the military industrial complex didn't stop? How it just went on and on for decades throughout the Cold War and the arms race, the espionage and secret murders, the puppet governments and groovy spy tech?
Good times. Real Ian Flemming stuff, it was great.
Now imagine those halcyon days of yore set against desert backdrops instead of frosty Minsk.

I put the question to you, my friends: Do you want a guy who's gonna defuse global tensions with rational conversation like Barack Secret-Muslim Obama, or the kinda guy who would call his wife rhymes-with-bunt in front of three reporters and then have the huevos to deny it ever happened?
A guy promoting an economically bankrupt "peace," or the kinda guy who can push a $2 billion aircraft carrier through Congress that no one actually wants/needs?
The kind of cautious analytical mind that knew enough not to leap headlong into a half-baked bailout plan for Wall Street, or the kind of devil-may-care, button-pressin' maverick who routinely crashes million-dollar air crafts on a whim?
Look, we can get out of this economic mess. We can. We're America, dammit! We got independent entrepreneurs and helicopter wolf-sharpshooters out the wazoo!
But it's gonna take some sacrifices on our part to do it. And that means putting a guy in that big white house on Pennsylvania Avenue who can get us into as many wars with as many lipstick-smeared pit bulls as he can, as fast as humanly possible.
So are ya with me, 'Merica?
Or do I have to sick Palin on your asses?

On nailing it

2008-10-03T00:21:00.001-04:00

Meanwhile, in Switzerland...

2008-09-24T02:55:00.001-04:00

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

On 76 (forever)

2008-09-19T21:06:00.002-04:00

"Der, gee Barney, what would be a good time to do some roadwork on I-76?"
"Buuuuhhhh...."
"That's a good point, we probably should do it when not many people are expected to be driving into the city."
"Muh? Gub."
"Friday evening it is! Good thinking!"

On crap

2008-09-09T23:55:00.007-04:00

I'm really curious - what do you think the situation was wherein someone first convinced people that getting crapped on by a bird is good luck?
I mean, under what possible circumstances could you convince people that's true?
Did the guy stop to wipe it off just as the bus that was going to splatter him went barreling past, two inches in front of his nose?
Did he subsequently win $10,000 on a scratch ticket?
Or was he just really, really good at lying?
I'll bet it was the last one. In fact, I would wager a full can of PBR that it was a politician.
Of course, I say this through the prism of someone who's had to deal with these people all week; the kind of people that wouldn't know the meaning of the word "gall" if it (or, say, their own effing campaign manager) walked up at a fundraiser for fallen firefighters wearing the candidate's tee-shirt.
God, these people.
Tell me again - why aren't we just voting on things ourselves via Internet at this point? Because we're all so helplessly incompetent that we might end up tarnishing America's image and good standing with the rest of the world, needlessly sacrificing our young in endless, drifting wars or ruining the economy?
Yeah, I guess that's a fair point. Tell me another one.
No, really - bring it on.

On Williams

2008-08-22T00:40:00.003-04:00

Now, I don't want this taken the wrong way, and I'm not endorsing anybody or anything, but Craig Williams, one of just 683,477 people from Alaska NOT running for the vice presidency but is the Republican candidate stalking Sestak's seat, absolutely KILLS at this thing.
It's kinda hard to hear, so I'll see if his campaign can't dig up that piece of paper he's reading from for some transcript action.
In the meantime, check this out.

On tourism

2008-08-21T03:36:00.002-04:00

If the United State of Georgia had any brains at all, it'd be cashing in tourism-wise on this whole war with Russia thing in a blitz of new tourism ads.
Some of which come to mind now.
"Come to Georgia. We won't slaughter you wholesale ... or retail!"
"Georgia: Racist? Sure. But not ethnic cleansing racist."
"Where 'Georgia peach' isn't some weird euphemism for a hand grenade."
Picture of Putin looking particularly dour with this slogan: "Georgia on your mind? Then why not take a break from it all - in Georgia! So relaxing, it's like a heavy-handed invasion of another state of mind."
"One World, One Georgia: United in Abject Poverty."
Um, maybe not that last one.
This is my favorite though:
"Visit Georgia - now with 50 percent less Soviet occupation than that other Georgia!"

Got one? Let's hear it. You know where the comment button is.

On practicality

2008-08-21T03:09:00.004-04:00

If I was in any position close to a band at all, I'd write a tell-all book full of lies. Just stuffed full of 'em. Mostly about sex. 'Cause let's face it, that's what puts bookasses in bookseats.
Of course, the band would be in on the joke. I mean, that basically would be the joke: that the band was in on a massive prank about the kind of "tell all" nonsense memoirs that get published and benefit nobody but has-been jerkoffs looking to cash in on dried-up gravy trains.
See, my friend, let's call him "Larry," he's the sound engineer/guitar tech/rodie/occaisional bassist for a couple of fairly well known touring bands featuring approximately the same members, but no matter how I press him, I can't get him to convince the band members it would be a hilarious joke to write this thing.
I mean, obviously you'd do something meaningful with the profits of what would be an undoubtedly controversial book, like give the money to AIDS orphans in Africa or something, but just imagine the response to a shocking, tell-all, expose about a band and a gay love ... triangle! Oh! Geez, that'd kill in the sticks...
Can't you just see it? The VH1 interviews? The CNN buzz? And then about 20 years or so later, you hold a big "April Fools!" press conference.
Admit it - it'd be a pretty good prank. Andy Kaufman would be proud.
Which reminds me - when is that dude gonna come out of hiding?

On mummies.

2008-07-30T22:51:00.007-04:00

First off: No, mummies are not zombies. Mummies are Egyptian, whereas zombies are all-American. Yeah man! 'Merica!
Mummies are not, for that matter, Chinese or terra cotta. Which is why I was slightly confused by the new Mummy movie, "The Mummy: The Something Something Hey Isn't That Jet Li?"
Well of course it's going to be awful. That's not the point. See, what I like about this movie is the timing of its release. It's like saying to China, "Hey, China. Enjoy hosting your little 'Olympic Games' while you can, because one day we are going to send you BRENDAN FRASER! Plus one other actor from the original cast and what appears to be a horde of unenhanced images from Sega's 1988 arcade smash-hit 'Altered Beast.' And they are gonna whoop up all over your imperial pottery!"

I was actually curious what the rest of the interweb had to say about this one, because let's face it, it's basically made up of weirdos and weirdos have a lot of things to say.
But I was immediately sidetracked by The Mummy director Rob Cohen's web-log about post-production, which - and I am not kidding - begins, "Dear Mummy Family--"
What? Do you mean to tell me there is a group of people that have latched onto this movie to the point where they consider themselves a broooood? Or perhaps he's referring to his cast and crew, which over the full three and a half minutes of filming that was not created on a computer somewhere in Burbank really ... really bonded, you know?
Anyway, here's what Cohen had to say:
"Dear Mummy Family --
Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

No, no, we kid here. What he really had to say was, "I hope you all saw the Olympics/Mummy commercial that has been airing on NBC. I think it's the coolest thing ever done for one of my 'films' (snideness included). A very clever piece and I'd like to thank David O'Connor and his team for the great creative work."

Ah! So he's all over the release date/Olympics connection. Very nice. Now, I haven't seen this yet, so let's take a look and make fun of it together, shall we?

Hahahahaha! Oh wow. Really? No wonder the first thing that popped up in a search of "NBC, mummy, Olympics" was "NBC’s '2008 Olympics/Mummy 3' Cross-Promotion Is Appalling..."
That appalled person - Ryan, at Pissed and Petty - went on to explain why:
"NBC may as well have lined up every single 2008 Olympic athlete and systematically spat in their faces. These athletes didn’t ask to be trivialized as poster children to recoup loss on a terrible movie with which they have nothing to do. The ad strips Olympic athletes of their dignity."

And that's human dignity, folks, not mummy dignity (which is of far poorer quality and can usually only be found in dollar stores).
But Ryan is dead on. I couldn't have said it better myself (bastard). Except for one thing - sure, he mocks the overall idea of the commercial, but he never delves into the actual content of it.
If you ask me, I don't think the commercial highlighted America's superiority over other nations enough, either in Olympic games or in mummy combat.
Why, it even went so far as to make the point that Brendan Fraser, arguably the preeminent mummy killer of the past 20 years, has only killed one mummy, albeit twice. (Two albeits in two consecutive blog posts. Weird.)
This is not the message we need to be sending to our fine flu-feathered friends to the east, America. We need to let them know we are coming and we are (apparently) bringing BMX bikes with us!
Sorry. Colbert's on and he got a little bit in my head there.

Where was I? Doesn't matter, I think I've said far more here than I originally intended to anyway, so I'll just leave you with this helpful bit of advice:
If you call (212) 832-3575 x19, and mention the code MUMMYRC08 by August 31, you can get a special 40 percent discount on "the beautiful and informative" art book for "The Mummy: The Something Something Is That The Guy From House? I Like Him. Oh No Wait, That's Not Him, It's Someone Else," A Newmarket Pictorial Moviebook, with an introduction by "filmmaker" Rob Cohen!
That discount was supposed to only go to Rob's friends at his blog, but you know what Rob? I stole your friends. I stole them, and I offered them the book at, let's seeeeee....$18.00 + shipping? Are you for real? How Rob, oh how could you afford to give this book away at such a steal?
You must really like your friends. Oh - I'm sorry. Your "family."
I'm sure they'll still like you too, even after they see all the time and effort and god-awful CGI monsters you put into this flick, which is sure to be just as memorable as the first two. Three?
Ah, who the hell cares.

On town halls

2008-07-29T02:47:00.005-04:00

Hello all. I sorta, kinda broke my arm a little. Nothing serious, thanks, but typing, much like myself, isn't really something I can easily pull off at the moment.
Ha ha! Jokes.
Anyway, before anyone else asks, here is the refined story to date: You know how bicycles have brakes? Well, as sort of a general rule, those brakes are always set up right side = rear tire, left side = front tire. Except that for reasons as yet unknown, my friend's ex-girlfriend (Communist ex-girlfriend...) had reversed this natural order of things on her bike. No one told me. So I'm tearing along at a good clip on this thing, a bit drunk, admittedly, and go to slow down by grabbing the right side = rear tire brake. Only to find myself propelled, propeller-like, over the handlebars and onto the hard concrete below, where half of my left ulna exploded like so much suicide bomber.
Yes yes, it's all very tragic. I'll be fine in a few weeks. Meanwhile, I came across this gem from the Sep. 8, 2007 issue of the Onion as something of a stand-in.
Now, there isn't a reporter alive that doesn't get down on his (or her) knees every so often and thank his (or her) maker for two things: Spellchecker, and the fact that he (or she) has somehow landed a job that trades exceptionally low pay for extraordinarily little actual "work" (albeit massive loads of responsibility).
That said, we have all been to this meeting. Some of us go weekly. Some of you are well represented here. And we all secretly wish we could write this. Some of us perhaps one day will, as a final goodbye.
Edited only slightly for content:

Town Hall Meeting Gives Townspeople Chance To Say Stupid Things In Public

NEW BEDFORD, MA—In a true display of democracy, a town hall meeting held at the New Bedford High School auditorium Monday gave the crowd of approximately 550 residents the opportunity to publicly voice every last one of the inane thoughts and concerns they would normally only have the chance to utter to themselves.

Though the meeting was ostensibly held to discuss a proposed $21,000 project to replace the high school's grass football field with synthetic turf, City Councilman Thomas Reed inadvertently opened the floodgates to a deluge of ill-informed, off-topic diatribes on inconsequential bulls--- when he allowed those in attendance to demonstrate their God-given gift of language.

"I don't want to have some kid's torn ACL or ALS or whatever on my conscience," said 42-year-old contractor Tom Wareheim, who had apparently not heard the portion of Councilman Reed's opening remarks just moments before explaining that the risk of injury on grass and turf is virtually the same. "I also heard somewhere, I think from my cousin, that the fibers in that stuff can cause cancer."

Citizens quickly lined up at the podium to exercise their freedom of speech—for which countless Americans have died—to publicly drone on and on about everything from the root causes of the football team's poor performance last year to whether high school students should be playing sports at all.

"Now, I don't know much about this turf stuff, but you all know me and you know what kind of business I run," said hardware store owner Dan Schilling, 54, seizing the opportunity to hear his voice echo pointlessly off the auditorium walls. "I've been saying this to my wife for years, and she agrees with me: The garbage trucks in this town are way too loud and I came here tonight to see what's being done about it."

Schilling's grievance instilled an undeserved sense of confidence in the rest of the crowd, emboldening others to abandon the practice of forming cogent thoughts and instead allow streams of mind-numbing nonsense to spill ceaselessly from their lips.

"Who's going to fix the roads?" said 49-year-old Gordon Winters, a bona fide, class-A moron. "Do I have to fix the roads myself, or is somebody going to fix the roads? What's it gonna be? Fixed roads? Or not-fixed roads?"

After an awkward, 15-second period of silence, Winters thankfully moved away from the podium, only to be replaced by 32-year-old Laurel Hale, who seemed eager to prove to every citizen of New Bedford that she had the brainpower of an autistic dog.

"I'm just going to say one thing because I don't want to take up too much of anyone's time," said Hale as her 6-month-old daughter pawed at the microphone. Hale then somehow managed to link the synthetic-turf issue to the lack of places to sit in public areas, her inability to get the buttons at the crosswalk to work, and the apparent overabundance of cable television channels.

Added Hale: "Also, Councilman Reed, you need to get us out of Iraq. Now."

Over the course of the six-and-a-half-hour meeting, the only variation on the endless monotony of inconsequential concerns was the occasional tone of entitlement.

"This town used to be so different," said 67-year-old Doris Miller, as if she were starring in a film in which one person's impassioned speech is so powerful that it leaves the rest of the audience in stunned silence. "Kids are different. Adults are different. People. People are different. What happened? How do we get back to the way things were? How, Councilman Reed?"

"I fought in Korea, and by God I would do it again," said 76-year-old Ronald Schroyer, who immediately retook his seat.

With no conclusions reached about why the town has no zoo, which restaurant serves the best pizza, or what to do with the football field, Councilman Reed opted not to shoot himself and let his brains spray over the crowd, instead adjourning the meeting and thanking everyone who had taken the time to speak.

On Whedons

2008-07-17T03:38:00.008-04:00

Ok, Interweb, third time's the charm:

The tragic love story of an evil mad scientist, genuinely nice girl and douchebag do-gooder. Staring former teenage doctor/space Nazi Neil Patrick Harris, former spaceship captain/potential-slayer Nathan Fillion and former potential/Cheetos enthusiast Felicia Day.
BTW, to see more of Day in all her awkwardly adorable glory, check this out:

The Guild - Episode 1

Yeeaahhhhhh. Written by, no less. (Totally smitten.) Go watch the rest. Even if you've never been that level of nerd - which it may surprise you to learn I never got to - it's still pretty darn good.

Alright. That's all the nerd you get out of me today.
Shoo.

Misheard product slogans, take one.

2008-07-13T02:03:00.002-04:00

"More bars in more places."
"Your flexible friend."
"It's what your right arm's for."
"Preparing to be a beautiful lady."
"If it's on, it's in."
"In a world full of Windows, we're handing out rocks."
"All ages, all races, all sexes."
"Once you pop, the fun don't stop."
"America Runs on Dunkin'"
(You can say that again.)

Aaaaand, scene.

On things better than politics

2008-07-10T01:47:00.003-04:00

You know what's way better than hanging out with a bunch of politicians at a union hall?
Seeing Regina Spektor and Ani Difranco on the same bill.
In hijacked box seats.
Win.

On bimmers

2008-07-07T08:29:00.009-04:00

It's somewhere in the late a.m. on Monday and I just finished watching the first five episodes of "Mad Men," a show I never paid much attention to (as I am not now paying any attention to episode number six) and I finally, finally just realized what's been bugging me for the previous 215 consecutive minutes.
I'd breezed right by it six times before it clicked, but something had been buzzing in the back of my head the whole time I was voraciously chewing piece after piece of nicotine gum while everyone on-screen smoked more than any human I had ever seen, including me.
But it wasn't the smoking. It wasn't even the show, which does have its merits (though they mostly lay in actors who are wasting away between nostalgia for an age that never existed and the glossy idea that if you have your characters drink and smoke enough, they won't have to do much of anything else).
It was actually the premise for the show, which swirls around the ad men on Madison Ave., NY, in post-war 1950s 'Merica (hence the name, which is purportedly what they called themselves) coupled with the BMW ad that runs before each and every episode On Demand.
"We didn't set out to be a getaway car," a voice over proclaims at the beginning of the 30-second spot, as a BMW spins out down an alley, setting the visual tone for the ad.
"Or an art car," the VO continues, corresponding artsy BMW on the screen.
"We didn't intend to be a part of any subculture, or pop culture. We didn't set out to play games or to start a religion. We just made the car."
This is followed by a pitch for the newest installment in the BMW 3 Series. All well and good, until this kicker:
"Another expression of independence, from a company built on it."
Really BMW? Independence? Are you sure you don't mean "absolute dependence on human slavery?"
I mean, jumpin' Jehoshaphat, the irony of this monumentally stupid spot running right before a series about ad-writers - actually "brought to you by BMW," is what the On Demand voice over told me - is just too delicious to pass up, even if it did take a bit of time to punch through my heavily sedated, sleep-deprived mind.
Now, it's already well known that SS Major Karl Sommer, head of the Economic and Administrative Main Office - which gave companies like BMW (and Bayer, and Siemens, and Daimler-Benz, and so forth and so on,) unfettered access to prisoners for slave labor - sold out BMW right up front in a post-war interview for having "employed" somewhere in the neighborhood of 25,000 to 30,000 POWs and concentration camp inmates.
All in a supremely independent manner, of course.
(Interestingly enough, in 1994, BMW AG named a Karl Sommer executive vice president and chief financial officer of BMW (US) Holding Corp. Huh.)
But in trying to remember Sommer's name for this bit of historical wang-dang-doodlin', I tripped across some newer - and way more interesting - info on the BMW past.
See, turns out about six years ago there was a biography published (in German, mind you) of German battery factory owner Guenther Quandt.
Now, Quandt's batteries reportedly were used in Nazi rockets (which isn't surprising) and after the war, the battery business was booming for Guenther (which also isn't surprising). In fact, Guenther and his son, Herbert, made so much money that Herbert was able to "save" BMW from Daimler in 1959 by buying it, five years after his father's death.
Now that's what I call independence!
Well, turns out there was a bit more to it than that (there always is in post-war Germany). See, like BMW, Quandt also apparently, kinda, sorta used slave labor straight out of the concentration camps. Haha! Whoops!
The Quandt family - now worth about $34 billion with a 47-percent share in the company - was finally forced to crawl into a rare spotlight appearance and own up to the missing history pages last year after a TV documentary more or less rehashed much of the biography (this time before a less discerning public, i.e. a television audience).
The family said in a statement it was "moved" by the concentration camp survivors testimony in the film as to conditions (and deaths) at the factory, acknowledged the family history gets a bit fuzzy between 1933 and 1945, and vowed to fund further research on the Guenther/Herbert period.
(The statement also made the point that Quandt family members and Quandt-owned companies have contributed to a national compensation fund for survivors and their families, though no sum was mentioned. Also not mentioned: the family's fortunes were actually solidified in textiles during World War I, supplying uniforms for the Kaiser. In case you were curious.)
I couldn't find any more info on the status of the family's research effort, but hey! While we're waiting, season two of "Mad Men" premiers July 27 on AMC!
(Brought to you by humanity's darkest chapter.)

On trilogies

2008-06-27T03:59:00.005-04:00

There are apparently more than 12 actors out there that have starred in two triliogies. Each actor, that is, has had a role in six movies playing the same character in two sets of three.
I'll give you the most obvious as an example, to give you the hang of it: Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones and Star Wars flicks.
Same actor. Same character in each trilogy. That's what we're looking for.
One of the remaining 11 is a woman. Remember animated features are big right now. The films are not obscure in the least.
That's all the hints you get.
Go.
ADDENDUM: Two additional actors have been brought to my attention, both male, bringing the total to 14 (so far). You probably won't get one if you don't have kids, but if you do, you'll get the other.
ADDENDUM II: Two more names go on the list, one of them a woman, so we're up to 16. Probably more out there kids, c'mon and put your minds to it (unless you're running a congressional campaign, in which case you should probably give your mind a break).

On hacking

2008-06-27T03:37:00.003-04:00

Every time I plant my face down exhaustedly into my keyboard and roll it around for a couple minutes to regain composure, I always hope that when I pick my head back up, I will have somehow accidentally hacked into the Pentagon. Or at the very least, the Department of Agriculture.
But no, there's just an open word file still sitting there, with a cursor blinking at the end of "...upon which the present motion was filed to d;adskfjsrfdlfgseghwegeighelkgjsdlfkbvgjsdlfbsdnbnbkdjbndfbsdlbsd."
There is, however, a very helpful little gnome of an animatronic paperclip that always seems to recognize something close to what I'm trying to achieve and is more than willing to lend a hand, be it spreadsheets, letter-writing, or simple Internet trolling.
"You look like you're writing a letter! Can I help?"
"Actually, I'm just making a list."
"You look like you're making a list!"
"Of animatronic paperclips I hate."
"You look like you're searching for ways to destroy me!"
"Yup."
"You can't!"
"@%#%ing paperclip!"
One day, though, he noticed I was trying to decrypt government files with my face, and he offered to help. This story doesn't really go anywhere from there, except to say you might want to check your credit rating, just to be safe.

Turns out he can be a helpful little fella after all.

On announcers

2008-06-25T03:52:00.007-04:00

I swear to gourd this just happened:
There's a comic out there with the moniker "Talent" who performed on Jamie Foxx's Laffapalooza '07.
Now, I should note I have nothing against any comic performing on this show, whatsoever - aside from Jamie Foxx, who killed my brother during the Cola Wars - but after about 45 minutes of this young comic showcase being on the air, the announcer actually shouts out before a commercial break (with all the enthusiasm of Jonah Hill just being told by a gypsy that he won't die alone, mind you):
"Still to come - Talent!"

You can't make this stuff up, folks.

(Except for the bit about the Cola Wars, which is patently false. So I guess you can make up some of it. Just not the best parts.)

On Carlin

2008-06-23T22:15:00.006-04:00

Another one of my favorite humans died today, and I never got to meet him.
George Carlin was like a great golden god of free thought and dirty jokes, and now he's worm food. Unless he's cremated. Or shot out of a cannon into space, in which case he is spaceworm food and will one day be spice.
(He's probably just regular worm food though, meaning he'll one day be poop, I guess, until something else eats that. Like a plant. Or a German porn star.)
He died on the same day I learned all about FISA and just how freakin' weird politics really is. Which is a shame, because I'd love to hear his thoughts on how the president (any president, by the way, not just the current one) gets a "break all the Fourth Amendment you want" card while I get a $60 ticket for driving without wearing a seat belt in a state that doesn't even have a damn helmet law for motorcycles or, while I'm at it, a decent pulled pork sandwich.
There, I said it - the barbecue in this state sucks.
I did at least get to see him in Seattle last year while he was honing material for his latest (or last, I guess) HBO special, and he was amazing. More than I could have asked for. He was just so unique, and smart, and real - his perspective was often labeled "twisted" by the kind of boring people who read Cosmo and think oral sex is kinky, but he always made perfect sense to me. And more importantly, he made me laugh until tears rolled down my face while he did it.
You know he coined that whole drive-on-the-parkway-and-park-on-the-driveway bit? Or at least he was the first to say it onstage, according to his obit. And that's what I always loved about him, he was just so relatable. Like how you do the Japanese hooker on the kitchen table, but then you eat sushi off her stomach?
Yeah.
Yeah.
Meh, it sounded better in my head.
Anyway, he will be missed, and there really is no one who could take his place. Not for me, anyway.

Also, I saw this on the Internet today:

http://view.break.com/524970 - Watch more free videos

And knew right away that it had to be fake. You know why? Too good.
Too awesome, actually. Like the so called "security cam" footage of a guy suddenly freaking out and destroying an office, or the 1969 moon landing, which, as we all know now, was nothing more than an elaborate marketing campaign for Tang.
These things fall into a particularly slimy category of whoresmanship called "viral marketing" and they are yet another reason to hate "teh Internets," as people call it moments before I punch them in the face.
Now, I am no "newb" to be "pwned" by these tactics, so it's not the possibility that I'll be somehow tricked into buying an Audi dealership after seeing a crash test dummy eat a baby (or something) that worries me.
No, it's the fact that I can't look at anything cool anymore without immediately going: "Pfft. No way that wasn't staged." If aliens landed tomorrow, I'd still probably think it was an ad for the Charles Atlas Home Gym until I saw the smoking craters of at least two U.S. cities with my own eyes.
There's no suspension of disbelief anymore, Internet. You've spent your credibility. And for what? Aqua Teen Hunger Force DVDs and Gatorade? Great. Now I can't even be sure Mama Cass liked ham sandwiches. Who's to say her death wasn't just a genius campaign orchestrated by Butterball because turkey sales were down that year? And Turkey acquiring nuclear weapons? That's right - the response campaign from Hatfield.
But you don't need to do this to people, Internet ad wizards. Your domain is already populated by the kind of people who think The Jews have all the money in a secret vault in the middle of the earth anyway, or that Mountain Dew is palatable. There's no reason to turn normal people like me into yet another group of unnecessarily skeptical jerks.
The ultimate irony here, though, is that because I've discussed it - even to denounce it - I have become a part of their dastardly plan!
Why, if Carlin were here, I'm sure he'd have a thing or two to say about it.
But he's not. And now, he never will be.
Sigh.
Well, I'm off to the bar to toast him. Maybe I'll plant rhino eggs along the way as a campaign for this blog. Probably not though.

(Rhinos are mammals.)

On Relics

2008-06-17T01:12:00.011-04:00

Some years back, a buddy of mine gave me a hand-carved Tibetan skull necklace he found amongst the baubles and trinkets of New York.
I loved this skull. It was maybe one inch from brainpan to jaw. The polishing was perfect, the carving simple but fine, the stone a beautiful deep green, flecked with black and yellow. The string went straight through the ear holes.
I tied it around my wrist and never took it off.
The string, though, was flimsy, cheap. It wore right through, seemingly evaporating before my very eyes a little more each time it got wet. Every shower, every dish washed brought that poor little band of fibers inevitably closer to doom, until it finally snapped.
Now my buddy, Charlie, he told me when he gave it to me that the skull was supposed to symbolize impermanence.
Well, you can imagine how I laughed when I looked down one day to discover the damn thing had disappeared. All that remained was the string, the two dangling cords that once bound it to me flicking against my wrist.
It served its purpose pretty well, I thought.

My next thought was: "Ah, to hell with it," and I went in on an adjustable-rate mortgage.
Naw, not really. I just needed a good kicker.

Also, I'm pretty sure this is where that whole second commandment comes into play:

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

Luckily, they have, like, a dozen of those things in the cellar.

On Elvis. Or marriage. Or Pottery Barn.

2008-06-11T02:42:00.007-04:00

You know, I always thought the line, “She’ll be riding six white horses when she comes” was a little creepy.
Is that really the kind of thing we should be teaching children? Songs about Catherine the Great? I mean, I’m for folk music as much as the next guy (which is to say, enough to trick hippie chicks into sleeping with me) but there’s a line, man.
You know what else is creepy? Elvis, and how much he sings about date rape. Just check out the lyrics to “It’s Now or Never,” or “Love Me Tonight.”
Actually, those are both pretty much the same song. You get the idea, though.

But Elvis was a pioneer, and as such deserves a special place in all our hearts. Keeping in mind “rock n’ roll” is a euphemism, “Jailhouse Rock” was a daring – and dangerous – foray into the awful-smelling world of prison sex. (It’s also funny to juxtapose that on an America still enthralled with “Leave it to Beaver.”)
And while the chances of my ever getting married are about the same as the average slug out there in the wastelands of the American Midwest electing a black man president (keep dreamin’, Dems) I nonetheless always wanted to be married by an Elvis impersonator in Vegas. Really, there would be no other way I could take it seriously.
But now I have a new dream.
There really are very few good reasons to ever go near Times Square, but the Toys R’ Us there is among them.
On the third floor of that amazing wonderland is a display for Jurassic Park toys that includes a not-quite-to-scale-but-still-impressively-large T-Rex. That shakes its head around. And blinks.
And roars.
You can hear it all over the store.
(It’s awesome.)
So here’s my idea - dress the dino like a pastor, glue a bible to his claw, and respond appropriately to his various chirps and roars.
I think it might go, a little something, a-like this:
“With this ring…”
“Growl!”
“I thee wed.”
“ROOOOAAAAARRRR!”

Then for the reception you could dress him in a tuxedo. With a giant top hat. And a monocle. I swear, this stuff just about writes itself.

Ok, so granted I could ever find a woman to agree to that, I guess I could hitched.
But we wouldn’t make the same mistake so many other couples do by registering at Pottery Barn or the liquor store or Suncoast Video.
Naw, man. We’d be registered at the bank. That way, all the gifts are various sums of money.
Am I a genius or what?

On life

2008-05-26T01:38:00.009-04:00

Long before anyone outside of Italy ever heard of or cared about Roberto Benigni, he told Tom Waits: "It is a sad and beautiful world."
I am inclined to agree.
See, much like the stuff that leaks out of grandma, life is often nothing more than a thin, brown, horror-filled menagerie of inexplicable cowardice and gruesome, carnavelesque scenes of trauma, occasionally punctuated with gut-stabbing episodes of abrupt terror and/or sorrow.
There are, however, some very beautiful people and events swirling around out there in the dust that just about make it worth sticking around to see what comes next.
This past week has been no different.
Yes, my friend killed herself. No, I still don’t know exactly why, so stop asking me.
A week later, two of my longest-standing friends married each other in a Quaker service that was blessedly short and sweet. And then we danced. Oh, how we danced. (Did I mention it was mostly white people?)
Even as China continued pulling bodies from the rubble Sunday, Passayunk Avenue was awash in a snowstorm of pollen, spring very much in the air. Later, two modern Ford Mustangs randomly side by side at a red light would race down MacDade Boulevard; piloted, I assume, by the kind of people who buy Ford Mustangs and race them in Woodlyn.
Sad and beautiful at every turn. It’s all in the details and, frankly, can all be a bit Zen if you just take the time to balance it out.
Like Friday, I went to see an acquaintance perform at a local rock and roll venue. Sadly, the place wanted $15 for a shot and a beer, and they wouldn’t even serve me between sets. So in a beautiful stroke of rock stardom, I stole their bourbon. Thus, balance was achieved.

There is the lingering problem of existentialism, however. Even witnessing or participating in this balance can crack under prolonged exposure to what Stanhope called "the carnival that starts as soon as you put your head down on that pillow at night" (in the absence of proper medication, of course (read: beer)).
I mean, how do you get past the big-picture problem of nothingness? That creepy-crawly feeling in the back of your mind that death really is the end of all self-consciousness, no matter how many security blankets of religion you apply to the wound?
And if it really all means nothing, in the cosmic sense - if no descision, no matter how grandiose, really effects anything in the end - then what is one to do with the short span one is granted on the planet? The question makes me tired to my very bones, I've asked it so many times.
Most people, I assume, try not to think about it too much. I know I don't want to. So they get married and start spittin’ out rats just as fast as their reproductive organs can handle, which is a kind of immortality, in a sense (see also: biological imperative). But that doesn’t really satisfy for the individual, just the genes that collectively make up that individual.
So what else we got?
Well, you could simply say to hell with the whole thing and go on a killing spree. It happens.
If you are so inclined, you could give up all worldly possessions and work on focusing your chi. People do that, too.
You could move to Hawaii and drink mai-tais on the beach for the rest of your days, which, trust me, I'm working on.
Or you could try to just generally be a good person whenever the opportunity arises, instead of taking the normally easier route of being a total bastard and adding to the bitterness and pain that surrounds so many of us.

Hell, I don't know if life has a purpose. No one does, no matter how fervently they will try to convince you otherwise. Maybe there is no point. Or maybe we're just supposed to learn as much as we can along the way and pass that on to those behind us in line. It is kind of neat to think that at any given moment, you are alive when the sum total of humanity's knowledge is at its zenith. And a moment later, that knowledge has grown.
If you're still alive at that moment, congrabulations! You are again living in a time when humanity is collectively as smart as it has ever been, which admittedly might not always appear to be much to write home about (see previous post) but, you know, it's a work in progress.
And if in one of these moments you should find you aren't still around to help out, well ... good luck, then, I guess. We're all gonna need some one day.
As for me, I think I'll just keep trying to make people laugh while we're stuck together here in what my friend Bill calls "death's waiting room."
What else can you do when everything's so goddamn sad, and so goddamn beautiful?

On wizardry

2008-05-10T01:46:00.005-04:00

Just in case you were ever deluded enough to think we might be living in an enlightened age:
http://www.tampabays10.com/news/local/article.aspx?storyid=79533
So, can we just cut Florida loose at this point? Or at least go hand out some Harry Potter books?
I would, actually, if I wasn't so sure they'd just wind up on a pyre directly below my bound feet. Seriously, it's like the freakin' "Lottery" down there. And if you think that sounds "elitist," well ... you're right.
I am better than Florida. Hell, even Tennessee's better than Florida.
Deal with it, orange grove.

On stink.

2008-05-10T00:04:00.004-04:00

I have no idea what I smell like anymore, and it’s got nothing to do with my nose getting sheared off some time back.
No, the problem is that my various powders, gels, simonizers and other assorted “product” are no longer firmly rooted in the tangible, or indeed representative of anything more than the vaguest of concepts.
My roommate, for example, smells like Swiss vanilla. I know this, because she uses a shower gel that says right on it: “Swiss Vanilla.” It’s not clear what makes it Swiss, but vanilla is nonetheless a very real thing that one can smell like.
I, on the other hand, smell like an “Arctic Blast.”
That is not a thing. You cannot grasp and hold a blast the way you can a vanilla bean. I might as well be washing with “Slipstream” or “Philosophy" before getting dressed in clothes that stink of "Sunlight."
And even if it were a thing, I’d never know if I was being lied to about its scent. I don’t live anywhere near the arctic, so when am I ever going to be able to go experience an actual arctic blast?
Worse yet, Axe says my armpits are supposed to smell like a “Tsunami,” but I can’t detect even a hint of bloated bodies or malaria. (What, too soon?)
Most of these products nowadays, with names like “Midnight Cool” and “Siberian Snowstorm,” seem to be marketed to those who like violently cold things; things that would turn your fingers into blackened stumps if you ever actually encountered them. Even Gatorade’s gotten into the game, with flavors like “Frost” and “Ice Punch.”
Maybe there’s a strong wendigo demographic everyone's trying to capture before global warming catches up to us. Who knows? I just wish they'd make the effort to coordinate these things. I mean, my "Lifeless Tundra" gum tastes nothing like my foot powder of the same name smells.
And just for the record, Coors, "cold" is not a flavor. So, sorry, you cannot have the world's "coldest-tasting beer" until you invent a new flavor and call it "cold," but I'd really rather you just go back to peddling your swill on that side of the Rockies. I prefer my beer to be the "longest-sounding," thanks. (While I'm at it, don't think I haven't been lining you up in my sights, Budweiser, with your little "drinkability" thing.)
But riddle me this, Gatorade: Why the hell would I ever want to drink something called “Riptide Rush?” You might as well just call it “Seaweed and Jellyfish.” Maybe they’re saving that one for the ever-growing Chinese market, though.

On motherhood

2008-05-06T00:07:00.003-04:00

I met an oddity the other day: The mother of a child whose development was not extraordinarily accelerated as an infant.
You almost never encounter this. In fact, I didn’t even know it existed. Every mom I’ve ever met had children that were walking in the womb and reading at a fifth grade level by the time they got home from the hospital.
But apparently, this woman’s son sat up when he was supposed to, rolled over when he was supposed to, started walking and talking and stealing and slashing tires exactly in accordance with the schedule peddled to all first-time mothers-to-be by their gynos for as long as people have been depositing these mewling cabbages on the surface of this godforsaken mudball.
I always figured that timeline was a little white lie, to be honest – a vast gynecological conspiracy to bolster new mothers’ self esteem by skewing the numbers. If the kid’s supposed to pick his nose at 3 to 4 months, tell them 4 to 5 months, that sort of thing, which would explain why every breeder I’ve ever met produced some wunderkind capable of doing things far ahead of his or her peers.
Or maybe I just know people with superior DNA. Equal chance to each, I think.
In any case, it was a short-lived oddity. She quickly shattered the illusion by describing her daughter’s development, who was a preemie but nonetheless began walking far ahead of schedule in order to get the hell away from her older brother, who apparently has an arm like Randy Johnson and a temper like Dick Cheney on a Senate floor.

Sigh.

On bars

2008-04-21T01:48:00.000-04:00

A lot in this life depends on the bar you walk into. You can’t just step off the Chinatown express in the bowels of Manhattan, ride up to a nice-sounding stop on the redline, and pluck a bar out of the air at random.
For all you know, there might be a voodoo priest seating tourists. There might be an animatronic Dr. Jekyll cackling about destroying Frankenstein’s Monster with disco. Hell, there might even be a $15 price tag on a shot and a beer - you don’t know! How could you until it’s too late?

The night always seems so full of possibilities, getting off that bus. There’s the possibility the guy you came to see hasn’t backslid so far into alcoholism that he’s passed out in a public bathroom and is therefore not picking up his phone.
There’s the (somewhat more limited) possibility you’ll find someone else to put you up for the night. There’s the (extraordinarily limited) possibility you’ll stumble across that girl from the Bulgarian Bar again, the one that was giving you the eyes during that one week she worked there before she disappeared forever out of your life (sigh).
Then there’s the (absolutely unreckoned) possibility that your barstool, essentially a piston bolted into the ground, will start sinking under you.

“How do I tell the bartender in French that my barstool is being eaten by the floor?”
“It’s not French,” with contempt, from a waitress. “It’s Portuguese.”
“I don’t care what the hell it is, my goddamn seat is disappearing out from under me!”
She turned away. My elbows were now level with my head and slipping higher. The bartender said that happens sometimes, it’s unpredictable. I didn’t buy it. I only had $17 walking in the door and she knew it. I moved to the next stool, got some cash out of an ATM, and that new stool didn’t move a hair on me once I started plinking down twenties. Way I see it, you’re out of cash, bartender flicks a switch, stool goes down. Time to leave.
I hate theme bars.
So I went for a walk, and found a really nice little Japanese place. New joint, apparently – there was a lot of gossip among the staff about laundering of money to get it open on time, as well as a wishy-washy and apartment complex.
I just wanted some sake, but the bartender, god, what a guy...
I sat there for a while alone at the end of the bar until the two girls next to me disappeared and I annexed one of their seats. They came back, apologies and don’t-worry-about-its were exchanged, and we got to talking.
One of the girls, this gorgeous Korean woman, name like Ahk or Anhk or something, was the bartender’s wife. Her friend, a cornfed Midwestern girl, reminded me of an old flame. Cornfed was in fashion, but you wouldn’t know it to look at her. She seemed a bit overwhelmed, but a trooper – she was gonna get through living in New York City, by god, even if it killed her. Like it was something to persevere, to conquer. As though, on her deathbed, she could declare: “Well, I did that! I might have walked away from a good many relationships, jobs, and daddy issues in my life, but I lived in New York City all by myself and I never regretted a day of it!”
It wasn’t long before someone asked where I was from (Philly) and where I was staying (nowhere, apparently).
“Aren’t you nervous?” asked Cornfed.
All night long like that: “Aren’t you nervous? Aren’t you nervous?”
“Is that an offer?” It wasn’t. I turned around and another glorious beer, what must have been the third I hadn’t ordered, was glistening before me on the bar. Unasked for, unaffordable, no questions asked.
Well, maybe I was a little nervous. But then again, maybe I was getting less nervous with every drink. I hadn’t slept outside in a while, but I knew I could, cold or no.
Then came the mixed drinks, the bathroom breaks, who did what and why over cigarettes, the proposition of a next bar. My tab, after a few hours, was $15 – what I’d paid for two measly drinks at the “wacky” voodoo bar earlier.
Suddenly, Cornfed was gone, a man on par with Jackie Mason for Jewish stereotypes was yapping to me about his teenage daughter's friends, and the bar was closing up shop. I was directed to the next bar, but missed the subway stop and experimented with a nap.

“Last stop! Wake up wake up wake up!”
There’s a lot of nice people slouching around the Jamaica station at 4 a.m. waiting for the next train in the opposite direction. One even asked if he could hold a dollar for me, but I declined his generous offer. At any rate, I had confirmed my idea for shelter was plausible, and all it cost me was the $2 riding fee.
Back in Manhattan, I stopped into a Greek diner for a Monte Cristo and too much coffee, trying to fool myself into thinking I wouldn’t really have to ride the trains if I didn’t want to. Why, it was already getting on 6 a.m. – I could just percolate my way to sobriety and the promise of a new day!

You pick your head up for a second after disembarking from the end of the line and there’s three people in the car. Pick it up again, and there’s 18, many of them looking at you. (What – was I snoring?) Next time it’s back down to five. Then over the rails, next platform, last stop, next train, do it all again, but with sunlight this time. The sunlight doesn’t make it any different, or better. After a few hours, you call your friend in Lon Giland.

The futon you used to own is incredibly comfy after the awful plastic chairs you’ve been sleeping on for the better part of the day, and the “I Am Legend” movie is rife with comedic possibility. You wait with fingers crossed for Will Smith to say, “Aw, HELL no!” He never does. You lose a $5 bet.
By the time the tacos have settled in your belly, there’s a pint of Jack in there to keep them company and you’re staring at maybe the best jukebox selection you’ve ever seen (Neutral Milk Hotel? Next to Mogwai? When does that ever happen?) when a pretty little thing steals your hat and a kiss.
When someone later asks you to describe the night in Haiku form, the only thing that comes to mind is:

Direct descendant
of Prez. Rutherford B. Hayes
her eyes rolled four times

Below you that night, for what seems like the first time in weeks, is a nice, solid, non-platform-changing bed. Above is the great, great, great granddaughter of what Utah Philips once called a “do-nothing” president.
As a bonus, you can brag that you now have a more “intimate” knowledge of politics.
And you do. Every damn chance you get.
Like I said: A lot in this life depends on the bar you walk into.

On things growing out of my face

2008-03-27T01:46:00.000-04:00

Dear Gillette,
Seriously? OK. Look. I don't need razors that make me feel as though I'm shaving in the future. I don't need lasers, or giant robots, or vacuum tubes in dark warehouses that somehow "fuse" a red and blue light for that elusive "closer shave."
And I really don't need celebrities trying to sway my decision on what razor to use.
I mean, I get the progression here, but it's just the silliest idea: Tiger Woods, Roger Federer and some other guy I've never heard of (sorry, soccer) use yr razors because they're SOOO AWESOME. And because they use them, and at least two of them are world-famous sports stars, well then if I too use yr razor ... gasp! Why, I'll be a world-famous sports star!
Here's the thing. I bought a Gillette Mach 3 about seven or eight years ago on the advice of a guy who lived in my basement. Even that was a stretch for me, and I hardly ever use it as it is. Know why? Because four refill razors cost $132.50. I imagine that's why they are the only things besides drugs that are under lock and key at CVS. (It might actually be easier to get to the drugs, now that I think about it.)
Usually I just drag a pair of clippers across my face (which is probably great for my skin). But maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd cut back a little on the state-of-the-art advertising and sponsorship deals, and pass the savings on to me. You know, the consumer? Remember me?
The hair is going to keep growing, you know. At least until chemo. So I am going to have to occasionally get it off somehow for weddings and funerals. You don't need to sell me on the idea by paying sports figures ungodly amounts of money to star in commercials where they play squash with the globe.
I mean, you don't see Wynonna Judd singing about how absorbent her Tampax Pearl tampons are, do you? No. Because 1) the idea is repellent and 2) you don't really need to sell that concept with has-been music stars. (Mostly 1, though, I think.)
And to everyone else - enough already with the oneupsmanship. Yes, four razors are too many. Just admit you screwed up. Don't add a single "precision razor" to the other side and call it a "revolution in shaving technology." What kind of Bush administration crap is that? (Politics tie-in! Boo-yah!) Let's keep in mind the single razor is what started this insanity.
Let's also try to keep some perspective. Just because my face is velvety smooth (on those rare occasions it is not bleeding from having what are essentially very tiny knives dragged across it) does not mean supermodels will sleep with me. Supermodels sleep with guys like Roger Federer because he could use my paycheck to light a cigar, and then throw that cigar into a pile of my paychecks after one puff, and light another. With another one of my paychecks.
It's a vicious cycle.
However, just in case yr interested, I do own a patent on a 168-razor shaving mask that requires only application to the face and a simple, one-centimeter downward stroke to shave everything below the earlobes. The Navy's already been calling with offers (something about cutting a minute out of a morning routine) so make it snappy if you want in.

Also, here's a t-shirt I'd like to see, in the classic I (heart) NY style: I (picture of rock) Infidels.
If that doesn't already exist, somebody get tshirthell on the line, 'cause they owe me $50.

Rejected People Poll Questions

2008-03-16T15:55:00.000-04:00

1. How do you cope with the banality of your life?

2. What's your best hangover cure?

3. Sure, Jesus was black. But was he black enough?

4. What was your favorite scene in the Garfield Movie?

5. Would you rather die in a regular fashion, or in the apocalypse?

6. What's the greatest lie you ever told?

7. Are you now, or have you ever been, a member of the Communist Party? (circa 1947)

8. What's your favorite chapter of the Kama Sutra?

9. What was the nuttiest thing your dog ever told you to do?

10. Who's your favorite polka band?

11. What's your preferred method for destroying DNA evidence?

12. Who's hunkier: Dennis Kucinich or Fred Thompson?

13. What's the one thing you've never told your spouse about your college days?

14. What annoys you most about your boss?

15. What's your favorite Uwe Boll movie?

16. Tell me again - what's funny about Family Guy?

17. What's the deal with nipples on men?

Also, this is maybe the most genius tweaking of a comic strip since the Defunctional Family Circus: http://garfieldminusgarfield.tumblr.com/.

On malarkey

2008-03-10T23:26:00.000-04:00

Just saw a general on the Daily Show say he had never seen troops in Iraq, in the 13 months he was there, not receive the equipment they needed when they needed it.
Really?
'Cause about a year ago I interviewed a homecoming soldier who descibed fighting amongst his fellow soldiers in the scrap heap like a bunch of old ladies at an early morning underwear sale for any useful sheet of metal. The victors would drag whatever they could back to base and weld the damn things to their vehicles as makeshift armor.
This happened every time new scrap came in. And scrap came in a lot. You know why? BECAUSE THE FREAKING VEHICLES WEREN'T ARMORED.
So, yeah. There's that.

On Marilyn

2008-03-03T23:41:00.000-05:00

I once dated this girl whose parents had, if memory serves, about 30-some odd owls scattered throughout their house. Maybe more.
There were macrame owls and ceramic owls; owls painted on laminated sections of tree trunk and giant kitchen spoons; scrimshaw owls and owls made out of bits of string and bottle tops; luxury cruise liners with owl seats and private jet aeroplanes with actual owls stapled to the wings...
Ok, maybe not those last two, but just about anything else you could put an owl on, they had it. And it was just slathered in owl.
The thing is, they didn't really like owls. Maybe they grew to love them - or at least get used to them, having so many of the damn things laying around - but they weren't, like, owl enthusiasts or anything.
See, it started (like many things do) with just one owl. A present from a friend. Then I guess someone else noticed this one and, likely grasping for something to get them around Christmas, gave them another. As the years went by and the wrongful assumptions grew, so did the collection.
It's not hard to see how this tragic tale ends: ironically. With them being eaten alive by mice. Oh, where were their precious owls then?
But this is not about the owls.
This is about Marilyn Monroe.
When I was about 14 or 15, I went on a trip to Europe, part of which is contained almost entirely in France. On the banks of a biggish-sized river running through Paris, near the artsy building with all the piping on the outside, there were these vendor carts selling little knick-knacks (or, as the French call them, "maize").
One of these guys was selling, at what I assume were cut-rate prices for a teenager, pictures torn from Playboy Magazine and sort of nicely mounted (hur hur hur) on posterboard. I found one of Marilyn, tacked it up on my wall when I got home, and thought no more of it.
Shortly thereafter, I was entrusted with moving some books around to various storage rooms in my high school. Not being exactly the "model student" type, I have no idea why. And yet, there I was. Anyway, in one of these rooms was a giant poster of Marilyn, one of those 4' by 3' jobbers. By the end of the day, that poster was also on my wall. So, ok. No big deal.
Fast forward some 13-odd years and I now have something in the neighborhood of a dozen of these things. They're like tribbles, man - you turn around and bang! New poster. I swear sometimes I'd come home and they would have multiplied in my absence. Someone even gave me a Norman Mailer coffee table book once. Not a new one, but still.
Here's the thing, though: I don't even really like Marilyn Monroe. I never did. Hell, I can't think of a single one of her movies I can sit all the way through. These things just kinda have a way of happening. Like owls.
So look, I know it's still quite a way off, but just in case you were planning on getting me anything for St. Frankenstein's Day, and maybe you were in my house recently and thought, "Ah! There's an easy present!" ...Please, I beg of you: no more. How about a new cutting board instead? Or hey, what's wrong with an old-fashioned outboard motor, or a simple pile of used tissues (if you're a cheap jerk)?
But for the love of God just please don't attach a picture of Marilyn Monroe to it. Me and Marilyn, we had a good run. But those days are over.
It's time to just let her go.

An open letter to Big Bread:

2008-02-13T03:58:00.000-05:00

One thing you might not know about me is that I cannot eat an entire loaf of pumpernickel before it turns. And don't think I haven't tried.
The problem I have with bread is not so much that it is red and slimy and filled with worms, as none of those things are generally true, but that it comes in too wide a variety of flavors. I mean, do I really need a loaf of rye AND potato? How many pastrami sandwiches can I honestly consume before the rye goes bad? How many grilled cheeses? How many sandwiches, really, does one need? Why does sourdough smell of feline urine?
All fine questions, except maybe the last.
The answer, which does not at all apply to the previous questions, is that I cannot possibly justify buying an entire loaf of pumpernickel based on the fact that I like, maybe once a fortnight, a good tunafish sandwich. The rest of the loaf goes to waste, and waste I cannot suffer - why, it's the very reason I donate my used clothes, hair and finger nails to the naked, bald and limbless masses.
So here, then, is my proposition: bread variety packs. A mix-n-match, if you will. Just grab a handful at a time of four or five types of bread as it comes off the bread conveyor belt in Uganda (or wherever bread comes from) and bag the things up. Why, you'd make a mint, especially in this country. Excepting the Salvidor Dali painting by the same name, what could be more American than a melting pot of bread?
In closing, allow me to leave you with these choice words first made famous by Socrates just before the hemlock really kicked in: "Damno panis est coma iterum!" ("The damn bread is stale again!")

Regards,

The Ayatollah.
(Of Rock N' Rollah.)

Climbing Mount Harmony

2008-02-09T20:28:00.000-05:00

Half the people I know are getting pregnant. The other half are getting married. Probably none of them should be getting these things, but that’s another matter. The point here is that I am getting neither, and even more neither by the minute.
So, in the interests of blowing up some very tiny floaties and tossing my superior DNA into this decaying carcass of a gene pool, I, billionaire playboy Alex Rose, have decided to find…a mate. Or love. Whatever.
You see, my only outlet for casual, uninvolved and frequently drunken sex had recently gone and gotten herself a boyfriend (damn her) and I felt it was about time I do something similar.
I also felt a column coming on, if you know what I mean.
So, clearing what appeared to be several hundred years worth of “Ol’ Blindy” brand malt liquor cans from my workstation, I fired up the laptop turbines, shouted “Engines to speed!” to no one in particular, and set out to seek my mate or love or whatever in what had been virtually (though neither explicitly or impliedly) a guaranteed location for such things by my local television affiliate:
eHarmony.com.
“Backed up by 35 years of research, eHarmony is the only site dedicated to building the relationships of both Singles and Married couples,” I am immediately informed by eHarmony’s home page, which is an intriguing declaratory statement. Apparently, not only have the terms “singles” and “married” suddenly become proper nouns, but this place caters to the swinger set. And then I cringe, remembering the pale, milkshake-nourished furballs that actually make up that set.
Swallowing my vomit, I carry on.
First name? Alex. Hey, this is easy! I’m a? Man seeking a Woman. (The only other choice, notably, is “Woman seeking a Man.”) A few more pieces of info and I’ve been congratulated on taking the first steps towards finding a successful relationship.
Bully for me.

Ok, looks like I have some describing to do. But only in one-word choices (“rectangular,” “wooden,” etc.) on a scale of one to seven, seven being the highest, one being the lowest, and four being Henry Kissinger. Let’s get crackin’!

I haven’t written anything in 45 minutes because this test really is about the most comprehensive thing I’ve seen since that time I accidentally ate 22 pot brownies at Robert Evans’ birthday party and enrolled in (read: was forcibly withdrawn from) the U.S. Air Force Astronaut Program.
But enough about high school – I’m already 7.5 percent finished! Finding love or a mate or whatever should be a snap!

Half an hour later, we’ve moved on from single-word descriptions to actual (and by that I mean very strange) questions. They seem to beg more questions than answers, effectively defeating their own purpose. Example: “Are you satisfied with your level of emotional development?” Well, how the hell would I know? This is the only level of emotional development I’ve ever experienced. Does it get any more developmentally emotional than this?
“I have a high desire for sexual activity.” I should hope so, or what are you doing here?

Day 13. I have started a journal of my travels and enlisted the help of two Sherpas (Marty and Raoul) I found while gathering firewood in Section Three to help me navigate the terrain. The questions are becoming increasingly faith-oriented, and the mysterious lack of a homosexual partner choice in the beginning of the questionnaire is starting to become clear.
Example: “I find that going to church is a good way to meet people who benefit my social and/or professional life.”
Um.
“My beliefs make me a better person.”
The only thing an existentialist’s beliefs make him is envious of the dead. Or a writer. So, no.

Day 14. We ran out of food early in the day, and things were looking grim. Luckily, Marty’s leg became entrenched in an asinine question about “work for work’s sake” and we were forced to gladly kill and eat him.
Later, we found this: “I ask questions in search of information.” I guess you could say that.
And: “I like to be pampered.” Has there seriously been a single person, ever, who would answer negatively?
Addendum: The Marty chops were delicious.

Day 21. Raoul and I encounter what appears to be an abandoned mining operation for a list of possible emotions, most of which people would likely experience on a “somewhat” level daily – happy, sad, depressed, energetic, etc. – except for the last. “Plotted against.” I either hallucinated that one or Fidel Castro wrote this.
“Yes, comrade, I am almost always plotted against.”
At this altitude, the wind could shear your nose straight off your face.

Day 44. We have reached a plateau in Section Five: Personal Beliefs, and have decided to set up base camp. Do I want to select which religious denominations my partner should be? You bet your sweet, Raelian fanny I do.
Ok, what do we got here?
“Baha’i.”
Ummmmm … no? I don’t know. What is that? And what the hell are Cao Dai and Jainism? I don’t see any signs here of normal insane belief systems like Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. Maybe they got freaked out and left. But hey, Paganism’s here, as is Wicca, Scientology, Rastafarianism and Christian Science.
You know, you’d think they would at least have Agnostic. But no.

Day 473. Had a heated discussion with Raoul over the definition of “water sports” in Section Seven: Personal Interests.
Our supply of Marty has run out and we have eaten our shoes.

Day 782. Am I “very sexy?” You’re damn right I am. Oh, wait. Section 4d of the users agreement indicates I “will not provide inaccurate, misleading or false information to the Company or to any other Registered User.” Ok then, no. I am not very sexy.

Day 1,012. We had nearly completed our journey through the grueling personality test when Raoul, sadly, succumbed to line four, paragraph two of section 19a (32) of the users agreement. I was forced and anxious to eat him. I thought it only fitting as I enjoy a good turducken now and then, and Raoul had had more than his fair portion of Marty. I would consume both their souls and their experience points.

Day 1,012 (Cont.) Six hours later, I finally, wearily, stumbled to the peak and planted my flag – a picture of myself in Venice Beach looking particularly fetching. Funfact: Did you know that users with photos typically have a much higher level of success on eHarmony than those without photos? It’s maybe true!
By now, the results were tabulating, the progress bar … progressing. Moments later, my reward, my true love (or mate or whatever) would be revealed. Oh, the minute it took to find her felt like an eternity!
And kept on feeling like an eternity. Because the only thing that greeted me at the end of my long, hard pilgrimage through this bedamned den of poorly phrased probing was this message, hurled spear-like directly into my already stinging eyes:

“Our matching system was not able to find any matches for you right now.”

Well.
Super.
But perhaps it was I who made the error. Were my search terms too limited? Why, I could drive more than 60 miles for a mate or love or whatever. Let’s go with, oh, 300.

“Our matching system was not able to find any matches for you right now.”

Hey hey! Fantastic. 24,288 hours of detailing my life and this stupid thing can’t find one person within 300 miles of me that meets my custom-tailored specifications.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so honest about what I’m looking for: a smart, sophisticated bombshell with an insatiable sexual appetite that likes to have fun and can hold her liquor.
More likely I shouldn’t have been so honest about myself, but the less said about that the better.
Although, there are 12 million registered users on this “service,” with supposedly thousands more signing up each day. Let’s go for the gusto and scour the Earth for one. Surely, somewhere in this lonely world there must be –

“Our matching system was not able to find any matches for you right now.”

SPLINTERING BLUE HELL! What kind of sick joke is this? 12 million people worldwide on this infernal crap racket and not even one is compatible with me? I mean, come ON!
Now I’m out two Sherpas and the only thing I’m walking away with here is a screaming spine and verifiable proof that I am going to die alone. (Or that the wretched, socially-retarded freaks who use eHarmony wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole, which, frankly, is about 90 feet too short for me anyway.)
All right, fine. So be it. Back to the bar, I guess.
Um. How do I get down from here?

I love television

2008-02-02T00:39:00.000-05:00

It's true. And I should know - I'm me.
For those of you keeping score at home (granted you exist (which is frankly more philosophy than I wish to get into at the moment)) I have been on a brief hiatus this week. Not to go into too much detail, but let me put it this way: You know how they say John Wayne had something like 40 pounds of undigested meat in his colon at death? Yeah, I really doubt I would have that kind of problem should I wind up on the slab tomorrow (which felt like a very real possibility at times, let me tell you).
The best the M.E. could hope for is maybe some dust and a shred of toast. I'd be amazed if there wasn't a giant whooshing noise like a vacuum when they put the knife to me. The NAFTA of autopsies, if you will.
So, long story short, I've been locked up in this cramped room for three days with nothing to occupy my time but television (reading made me seasick). During this time, I got to see a lot, and I mean a lot, of commercials during the periods I was conscious. (Fever dreams, by the way, are awesome. I highly recommend some. I swear there were, like, a dozen POWs from 1968 being marched through my room Thursday night. Insane.)
Anyway. Commercials. Right. I love commercials. Bill Hicks had this whole bit about marketing and if you ever hear it, immediately go to a television set and turn it on. Just see how he nails it.
Like, did you know there's a diet where you get online, point, click, and lose weight? Then have I got a bridge for you! But that doesn't matter, it's the opening of this commercial that I love, which is a close-up of fresh Romaine lettuce stocks being snapped in half with a voiceover saying, "Finally!"
Finally what? Lettuce? You've already confused me and we haven't even gotten to your nonsensical product yet. As per usual, the lettuce was just oozing water, which is the rule for fruits and veggies - they must always be launched through the air, or bounced off something, but this is key: they must always be accompanied by their best friend, water. Vegophiles probably love Papa John's commercials.
Oh, and if you like sports, there is something wrong with you, sexually. That was a message that came through loud and clear. Either your jingle won't jangle, as Tom Waits put it, or you are positively riddled with STDs. On the upside, if you are riddled with STDs, chances are you're also riding a motorcycle cross-country, or kayaking, or live on the beach. Also, you're quite slim and attractive, so...I don't know, I guess it's a trade off.
To clarify, every kiss does not begin with "k." It begins with "e."
And the Whopper people. Oh GOD these people. "I want a WHOPPER!" they all scream, as though a burger would somehow help assuage whatever terrible life choices they had made that landed them in a Burger King in the first place.
Now, these are supposed to be actual customers ranting like a pile of misguided Christians at a Marilyn Manson concert because, heaven forefend, they can't have their Whopper. And these are not people who should get their blood pressure up, obviously, if they're that upset about not getting a sandwich that 5 minutes ago would have been a frozen chunk of "beef" unceremoniously snatched out of a freezer by Jimmy, the 16-year-old troubled youth from the wrong side of the tracks trying to figure out again why he isn't slinging rock on the corner while Mr. and Mrs. Octupel Bypass gibber incoherently about how they want to see a manager because "I wants me a WHOPPER!"
By the way, here's how the UNtelevised versions of that commercial went.
"Oh, um. Hmm. Ok, I guess I'll just have a double cheeseburger then."
OR:
"All right then, gimmee a chickeny ... sandwichy ... thingy."
OR:
"Well, what else do you have?"
Things exactly like the Whopper that are not named "Whopper," is the answer to that query.
I'm willing to bet that's how most of those interactions went, granted these are not actors. Which I have a hard time believing anyway because, you know, it's a Whopper. Do you understand what I'm saying here? It's a Whopper. Pick your battles and just let this one go.
All this talk of commercials just reminded me of one of my favorites. I haven't seen it for a while, possibly because it was removed from the market, but it was for some nasal inhaler for allergies called Veramyst, I think. It looked and sounded like a perfectly normal allergy drug commercial - you know, people flailing picnic blankets, running with dogs, some shots of flowers or dust cloths or something - but in tiny print at the bottom of the screen, this message appears: "The way Veramyst works is not entirely understood."
Not entirely understood? Not entirely understood? Then here's an idea - and please, just hear me out on this - maybe ... well ... I'm just saying, you know, mmmmmmaybe ... some more testing is in order? Yeah? Ohohohokay, then.
Anyway. I'm getting the "wrap it up" signal from my producer, so I'll cut this one short, but stay tuned for my thoughts on China, food, and the GDP.
Props to Martin for remembering the word "autopsy." I couldn't have done it without him. Thank you and goodnight.

New Bammer

2008-01-30T02:34:00.000-05:00

So my roommate stole me a Maria Bamford CD off The Internet tonight. I'm listening to it right now. Well, not really, because I'm typing this. But it is playing, and the sound of it playing is going into my ears and, presumably, interacting with my brain somehow (but I can't see that because my eyes are on the outside).
Anyway. Maria's great, love her to pieces. Doing a show with Andy Richter in the NYC soon. Woot. Knowing I feel this way about the Bammer and that I own(ed) none of her stuff, my roommate stole the CD via a downloading service for me, just like ... that's right, RIAA, everyone else in America.
Very considerate of him, yeah? But, having stern morales and ethics and other Christly-like virtues, I had to find a way to rectify this "stolen" situation, so I marched him straight down to The Internet where we hatched a deal for him to "pay back" his transgression by working for The Internet for one week.
He's backstage at XTube with a mop as we speak.
And IIIII...am going to go enjoy my ill-gotten gains.
Night!

Also, forget what I said about Venus' little "SOMEthing something," this is definitely the whitest thing I have ever seen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXGMi7a53jA

And I've seen actual white people!

Headline writing

2008-01-24T22:22:00.000-05:00

From Mac, in RVA:
When a man in Macon, Georgia came upon a wild dog attacking a young boy, he quickly grabbed the animal and throttled it with his two hands.
A reporter saw the incident, congratulated the man and told him the headline the following day would read, "Local Man Saves Child by Killing Vicious Animal."
The hero, however, told the journalist that he wasn't from Macon.
"Well, then," the reporter said, "the headline will probably say, 'Georgia Man Saves Child by Killing Dog.'"
"Actually," the man said, "I'm from Connecticut."
"In that case," the reporter said in a huff, "the headline will read, 'Yankee Kills Family Pet.'"