.
"Hey, baby".
Monday, December 22, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Black Tuesday
There’s a lot of ridiculous shit going on in the world right now. If 10 years ago I told people that Arnold Schwarzenegger would be elected Governor of California they’d laugh in my face, call me crazy, and make fun of me for my parents being divorced. I’d guess the odds of Michael Jackson becoming a white pedophile were about as likely as Schwarzenegger’s re-election slogan not being “I’ll Be Back.” In all this madness, though; in all this retarded shit-headed craziness, the United States found the progressive rational sense to elect Barack Obama, an African American man, President.
If somebody were to travel to just 4 years ago and tell me that in 2008 a black man would be President, I’d be in disbelief. I can’t even imagine what I would say. Probably something along the lines of, “Holy shit! You can time travel!?!! Aren’t you scared you’ll change the future? Do I become an astronaut?”
Canada also recently had an election, but it’s difficult to compare the two. For example one of the largest issues in the American election was foreign policy. In Canada however we’re pretty mellow, so there’s not much concern there. Besides, we have the best army in the world: The United States Army. Also, we Canadians don’t have the same kind of deep rooted hatred of black people. We’re just curious what they look like in person.
There was a lot of focus on the debates this year but quite frankly, I found them underwhelming. Maybe it’s not fair for me to compare them to the debates of 2004. I’ll never forget the Vice-Presidential debates, where Dick Cheney growled menacingly into the microphone for an hour and forty seven minutes before chasing a stray cat out the emergency exit. And the way George Bush finished all of his argument by raising both arms in triumph, letting go of the microphone, and slowly backing away from his podium still gives me the chills.
Still, nobody can deny the profound statement of the election of a black president. I’ve been dead on the inside for a long time, and when they announced Barack Obama the winner, even I, a grizzled cynical fat cunt, felt a strange emotion come over me that can only be described as ‘not hate.’ What happened was incredible, nobody can deny that, but I’m getting tired of people claiming that we would’ve made our founding fathers proud. If you were to tell one of the founding fathers that one day we’d have a black president, he’d probably say something like “can this wait?” because he’d be busy raping a slave.
But hey, black people…. We’re cool now, right? Awesome, high five! No, I mean that funky way you do it!
In all honesty the election of a black man isn’t something I could imagine happening within my lifetime. I’m a pretty cynical guy. I look around at the world and I see idiotic vengeful people acting in hateful intolerant ways to each other, and I’ve always been ashamed to be a part of it. On November 4th, however, I held back tears as Barack Obama was announced President not in spite of the color of his skin, but indifferent of it. I watched in awe as the best man for the job won and for the first time I can remember entertaining the notion that maybe all this time, I was wrong.
Amid all the celebrating and praise, what seemed to go unnoticed was the passing of Proposition 8, which stripped homosexuals of their right to wed, in California. The gay community held several large protests against the bill, but were largely unsuccessful as they were simply mistaken for parades.
‘How can such a progressive state vote in such an openly hateful and discriminatory fashion?,’ many theoretical pundits ask rhetorically in my head. The loss is being attributed to two factors. Firstly, much of the gay community couldn’t make it out to vote as they were busy at home burning bibles and teaching their adopted children the joys of sodomy. Also, there was a very large and expensive marketing campaign in favor of the ban. The campaign was, of course, largely backed by the Catholic Church, who apparently finds the thought of a Priest having sex with an adult male horrifying. It also got a strong vote of support from the Mormon Community who believe that the sanctity of marriage is a holy bond between a man and 4 to 20 women.
This election was fuelled by a fierce desire of the people to stand up against the hatred and prejudices that have underlined this nation and proudly proclaim ‘no more!’ Barack Obama won the Presidency on a campaign of change. He and Vice-President elect Joe Biden are both opposed to gay marriage. The people of California have voted to strip homosexuals of their basic civil rights, because they don’t like where they’re putting their cocks. Blacks, Whites, Muslims, and Christians are all coming together, hand in hand, to tell homosexuals they they’re not entitled to the same rights as the rest of us because they’re different, and that scares us. We’ve reached out to Barack Obama to lead us and in our own grand self delusion we’ve labeled ourselves agents of change while practicing more of the same.
Barack’s victory is a great one. It’s monumental, and historical, and all that shit. I am proud to be alive in a time where this kind of thing is possible. I even got caught up in the myth of it all for a moment. We’re entertaining the notion of letting African Americans into our little bubble of supremacy and it’s a good start. A black president is wonderful, but I’m not ready to celebrate yet. Call me when a Persian or an Atheist can be president. Call me when a homosexual can hold the office. Until then you can find me here, among my angry ranting, holding onto hope. Do what you want to the constitution, you can’t take that away from me.
If somebody were to travel to just 4 years ago and tell me that in 2008 a black man would be President, I’d be in disbelief. I can’t even imagine what I would say. Probably something along the lines of, “Holy shit! You can time travel!?!! Aren’t you scared you’ll change the future? Do I become an astronaut?”
Canada also recently had an election, but it’s difficult to compare the two. For example one of the largest issues in the American election was foreign policy. In Canada however we’re pretty mellow, so there’s not much concern there. Besides, we have the best army in the world: The United States Army. Also, we Canadians don’t have the same kind of deep rooted hatred of black people. We’re just curious what they look like in person.
There was a lot of focus on the debates this year but quite frankly, I found them underwhelming. Maybe it’s not fair for me to compare them to the debates of 2004. I’ll never forget the Vice-Presidential debates, where Dick Cheney growled menacingly into the microphone for an hour and forty seven minutes before chasing a stray cat out the emergency exit. And the way George Bush finished all of his argument by raising both arms in triumph, letting go of the microphone, and slowly backing away from his podium still gives me the chills.
Still, nobody can deny the profound statement of the election of a black president. I’ve been dead on the inside for a long time, and when they announced Barack Obama the winner, even I, a grizzled cynical fat cunt, felt a strange emotion come over me that can only be described as ‘not hate.’ What happened was incredible, nobody can deny that, but I’m getting tired of people claiming that we would’ve made our founding fathers proud. If you were to tell one of the founding fathers that one day we’d have a black president, he’d probably say something like “can this wait?” because he’d be busy raping a slave.
But hey, black people…. We’re cool now, right? Awesome, high five! No, I mean that funky way you do it!
In all honesty the election of a black man isn’t something I could imagine happening within my lifetime. I’m a pretty cynical guy. I look around at the world and I see idiotic vengeful people acting in hateful intolerant ways to each other, and I’ve always been ashamed to be a part of it. On November 4th, however, I held back tears as Barack Obama was announced President not in spite of the color of his skin, but indifferent of it. I watched in awe as the best man for the job won and for the first time I can remember entertaining the notion that maybe all this time, I was wrong.
Amid all the celebrating and praise, what seemed to go unnoticed was the passing of Proposition 8, which stripped homosexuals of their right to wed, in California. The gay community held several large protests against the bill, but were largely unsuccessful as they were simply mistaken for parades.
‘How can such a progressive state vote in such an openly hateful and discriminatory fashion?,’ many theoretical pundits ask rhetorically in my head. The loss is being attributed to two factors. Firstly, much of the gay community couldn’t make it out to vote as they were busy at home burning bibles and teaching their adopted children the joys of sodomy. Also, there was a very large and expensive marketing campaign in favor of the ban. The campaign was, of course, largely backed by the Catholic Church, who apparently finds the thought of a Priest having sex with an adult male horrifying. It also got a strong vote of support from the Mormon Community who believe that the sanctity of marriage is a holy bond between a man and 4 to 20 women.
This election was fuelled by a fierce desire of the people to stand up against the hatred and prejudices that have underlined this nation and proudly proclaim ‘no more!’ Barack Obama won the Presidency on a campaign of change. He and Vice-President elect Joe Biden are both opposed to gay marriage. The people of California have voted to strip homosexuals of their basic civil rights, because they don’t like where they’re putting their cocks. Blacks, Whites, Muslims, and Christians are all coming together, hand in hand, to tell homosexuals they they’re not entitled to the same rights as the rest of us because they’re different, and that scares us. We’ve reached out to Barack Obama to lead us and in our own grand self delusion we’ve labeled ourselves agents of change while practicing more of the same.
Barack’s victory is a great one. It’s monumental, and historical, and all that shit. I am proud to be alive in a time where this kind of thing is possible. I even got caught up in the myth of it all for a moment. We’re entertaining the notion of letting African Americans into our little bubble of supremacy and it’s a good start. A black president is wonderful, but I’m not ready to celebrate yet. Call me when a Persian or an Atheist can be president. Call me when a homosexual can hold the office. Until then you can find me here, among my angry ranting, holding onto hope. Do what you want to the constitution, you can’t take that away from me.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Jokes From a Guy Who Doesn't Understand How Jokes Work
Q: What has four legs, a tail, and barks?
A: A dog.
Q: How do you know George W. Bush evolved from a monkey?
A: Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution.
Q: Why did Martin Sheen ask his son, Emilio Estevez, to change his last name?
A: He doesn’t love him.
Q: What do you call a black person in space?
A: An astronaut.
Q: What’s the difference between Santa Clause and a Barracuda?
A: Santa Claus is a fictional fat man who delivers presents to deserving children once a year, and a Barracuda is a fish.
Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: How the fuck should I know?
A: A dog.
Q: How do you know George W. Bush evolved from a monkey?
A: Charles Darwin’s Theory of Evolution.
Q: Why did Martin Sheen ask his son, Emilio Estevez, to change his last name?
A: He doesn’t love him.
Q: What do you call a black person in space?
A: An astronaut.
Q: What’s the difference between Santa Clause and a Barracuda?
A: Santa Claus is a fictional fat man who delivers presents to deserving children once a year, and a Barracuda is a fish.
Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
A: How the fuck should I know?
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
A Funny Joke
Thomas Jenning enjoyed the simple things in life. He ate cheeseburgers, watched pornography, and liked spending time with his friends. When he turned 19 he married Charlene, his high school sweetheart and they moved into a small studio apartment-- the nicest one they could afford. Though his parents objected they were ultimately accepting and after a couple of years even began referring to Charlene as their ‘daughter.’ Still though, Thomas felt that their marriage had pushed he and his family apart.
Charlene and Thomas enjoyed having their friends over for drinks and dinner, but as their relationship matured they found they had less and less in common with those ‘friends.’ They would invite people over less and less; they would become more isolated, more alone. By the time Thomas had turned 32 he had a good job at a respectable marketing firm and a 10 year old son called Jake.
The day was hot and it was long. At 4:40 pm he had to submit his portfolio ideas for the new account, and he was anxious to get home. When the time came he made his way to his boss’s office, knocked twice, and walked in. ‘Look happy’ he kept reminding himself. His boss looked over his ideas, occasionally acknowledging with a grunt. Thomas had noticed him biting his lower lip as he often does when he disapproves of an idea. He wasn’t getting this account, both men knew it and they were now simply going through the motions. When his boss finished reading he threw the papers back in their folder with no regard for their proper order, faked a smile, and shook his hand. ‘Good work.’ Thomas would not get that account.
Heading home in his car his anxiousness faded with every passing moment. His daydreams of what the rest of the day would entail were replaced with memories of reality. His wife, now desolate and cold, their dog, yelping all goddamn day and night, and their son. He forced himself to think of the beer he would enjoy while watching the game. The buzz of the alcohol, the numbness. At least there was that. The song on the radio seemed to end a little too abruptly and a commercial for a new brand of shampoo began. Thomas reached for the dial to change the station but was interrupted by the shrieking ring of his cell phone. He answered it. Charlene calling to make sure he hadn’t forgotten that he was supposed to take their son, Jake, to the zoo that evening. He had forgotten. He went through the motions; a yes dear here and a silent agreement there, to get through the call. Before hanging up she handed the phone to Jake who greeted his father with incorruptible enthusiasm. At one point Thomas’s voice faltered. “Are you okay?” his son asked. Thomas assured him he was fine but Jake asked one more time. He promised to be home soon and hung up the phone. With the shampoo commercial just now coming to an end, Thomas pulled his car over to the side of the road. He lowered his head and with cars screeching by, he quietly began to cry.
Charlene and Thomas enjoyed having their friends over for drinks and dinner, but as their relationship matured they found they had less and less in common with those ‘friends.’ They would invite people over less and less; they would become more isolated, more alone. By the time Thomas had turned 32 he had a good job at a respectable marketing firm and a 10 year old son called Jake.
The day was hot and it was long. At 4:40 pm he had to submit his portfolio ideas for the new account, and he was anxious to get home. When the time came he made his way to his boss’s office, knocked twice, and walked in. ‘Look happy’ he kept reminding himself. His boss looked over his ideas, occasionally acknowledging with a grunt. Thomas had noticed him biting his lower lip as he often does when he disapproves of an idea. He wasn’t getting this account, both men knew it and they were now simply going through the motions. When his boss finished reading he threw the papers back in their folder with no regard for their proper order, faked a smile, and shook his hand. ‘Good work.’ Thomas would not get that account.
Heading home in his car his anxiousness faded with every passing moment. His daydreams of what the rest of the day would entail were replaced with memories of reality. His wife, now desolate and cold, their dog, yelping all goddamn day and night, and their son. He forced himself to think of the beer he would enjoy while watching the game. The buzz of the alcohol, the numbness. At least there was that. The song on the radio seemed to end a little too abruptly and a commercial for a new brand of shampoo began. Thomas reached for the dial to change the station but was interrupted by the shrieking ring of his cell phone. He answered it. Charlene calling to make sure he hadn’t forgotten that he was supposed to take their son, Jake, to the zoo that evening. He had forgotten. He went through the motions; a yes dear here and a silent agreement there, to get through the call. Before hanging up she handed the phone to Jake who greeted his father with incorruptible enthusiasm. At one point Thomas’s voice faltered. “Are you okay?” his son asked. Thomas assured him he was fine but Jake asked one more time. He promised to be home soon and hung up the phone. With the shampoo commercial just now coming to an end, Thomas pulled his car over to the side of the road. He lowered his head and with cars screeching by, he quietly began to cry.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Why I Suck.
Vaginas are wonderful. They’re soft, moist, and inviting, and I’ve been assured that they exist. The problem is that most vaginas are attached to women and most women are allergic to my penis. I don't mean to sound jaded, but if there’s anything I’ve learned from talking to women, it’s that ‘Get away from me creep!” It’s not that I’m overly aggressive or anything, it’s just that I'm, as my grandmother tells me, physically repulsive. No, I’m just kidding. My grandma’s dead.
Now admittedly, I’m no expert in the ways of the woman. The only time I ever get chicks is when they mistake me for a lesbian, but they say to write what you know, so here goes. An equilateral triangle has three equal sides, Taipei is the Capital of Taiwan, and Superman’s alter-ego is Clark Kent.
Approaching women is intimidating. Woody Allen once said that “80% of success is showing up” and that’s a saying I’ve really adopted. True to his spirit I plan on marrying and having sex with it. A lot of men have trouble approaching women, but not me. I’m fine with starting up a conversation with a lady, I just never know what to say after she maces me. My ‘game’ kinda flies out the window and I just run around screaming.
I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell for the past couple decades so I’ve adopted some new moves to help spice things up. Most notably I’ve stopped talking to women and I gotta tell you, they really seem to like that. It’s weird though because when I was younger I was a bit of a schoolyard player. In fact, I think I can pinpoint where it all went wrong. A while back I thought I was in love. It turned out to be gas, but that didn’t ease the pain when we broke up. Her name was Jennifer and I’ve never even mentioned her to my family or friends because she’s fictional and I just made her up.
Jenny was deaf and it was hard ending it with her. Don’t me wrong, her hearing impairment wasn’t an issue, I just couldn’t stand what a total airhead she was. She was always telling me to talk to the hand. Well she didn’t so much say it as semi-coherently mumble it. It’s for the best though, she was a terrible listener. Besides, she was tall and I like ‘em petite because small girls make me feel more masculine and I know that if we ever got into a fight, I could kill her.
What really bothers me is that on the top of every women’s list of what they want in a man is ‘sense of humor.’ I couldn’t figure this one out, because it’s so obviously not true, and then one day it hit me. What they mean is that it’s important that a man has a sense of humor because when they say that, they’re clearly joking. The problem with this theory is that women find anything an attractive man says fucking hilarious. That’s the main difference between men and women because I don’t do that with attractive women. In fact, I try to stay as quiet as possible around beautiful women because if they hear me laughing they'll know where I'm hiding and call the police.
So what options am I left with? I mean there’s always rape, but I don’t think I could handle the awkward silence immediately afterwards. Besides I went to grade school with a kid who would sexually molest girls and I don’t wanna be like him. He would pass around little notes that said things like “Dear Mary, Can I rape you? Please check a box!” and there would just be one small checkbox with the word “Yes” beside it. Also, I can’t grow a mustache.
All hope isn't lost though. They say women love confidence so I'm being pro-active by trying to better myself. I'm currently reading a self help book called, 'A Complete Idiots Guide to Self Esteem.' Worst case scenario I'll learn something about poorly titled books.
Now admittedly, I’m no expert in the ways of the woman. The only time I ever get chicks is when they mistake me for a lesbian, but they say to write what you know, so here goes. An equilateral triangle has three equal sides, Taipei is the Capital of Taiwan, and Superman’s alter-ego is Clark Kent.
Approaching women is intimidating. Woody Allen once said that “80% of success is showing up” and that’s a saying I’ve really adopted. True to his spirit I plan on marrying and having sex with it. A lot of men have trouble approaching women, but not me. I’m fine with starting up a conversation with a lady, I just never know what to say after she maces me. My ‘game’ kinda flies out the window and I just run around screaming.
I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell for the past couple decades so I’ve adopted some new moves to help spice things up. Most notably I’ve stopped talking to women and I gotta tell you, they really seem to like that. It’s weird though because when I was younger I was a bit of a schoolyard player. In fact, I think I can pinpoint where it all went wrong. A while back I thought I was in love. It turned out to be gas, but that didn’t ease the pain when we broke up. Her name was Jennifer and I’ve never even mentioned her to my family or friends because she’s fictional and I just made her up.
Jenny was deaf and it was hard ending it with her. Don’t me wrong, her hearing impairment wasn’t an issue, I just couldn’t stand what a total airhead she was. She was always telling me to talk to the hand. Well she didn’t so much say it as semi-coherently mumble it. It’s for the best though, she was a terrible listener. Besides, she was tall and I like ‘em petite because small girls make me feel more masculine and I know that if we ever got into a fight, I could kill her.
What really bothers me is that on the top of every women’s list of what they want in a man is ‘sense of humor.’ I couldn’t figure this one out, because it’s so obviously not true, and then one day it hit me. What they mean is that it’s important that a man has a sense of humor because when they say that, they’re clearly joking. The problem with this theory is that women find anything an attractive man says fucking hilarious. That’s the main difference between men and women because I don’t do that with attractive women. In fact, I try to stay as quiet as possible around beautiful women because if they hear me laughing they'll know where I'm hiding and call the police.
So what options am I left with? I mean there’s always rape, but I don’t think I could handle the awkward silence immediately afterwards. Besides I went to grade school with a kid who would sexually molest girls and I don’t wanna be like him. He would pass around little notes that said things like “Dear Mary, Can I rape you? Please check a box!” and there would just be one small checkbox with the word “Yes” beside it. Also, I can’t grow a mustache.
All hope isn't lost though. They say women love confidence so I'm being pro-active by trying to better myself. I'm currently reading a self help book called, 'A Complete Idiots Guide to Self Esteem.' Worst case scenario I'll learn something about poorly titled books.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Marijuanalogue: Poetry for Potheads
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The unknown vast and limitless nothingness looms menacingly;Forced to cope with a world of regret, abandoned and alone;
Solace is granted in the form of an herb;
Perception warped, ignited, enhanced;
The world viewed anew, fresh and forgiving-- I am at peace with all;
The whirling, cleansing consciousness, aspires to the divine and I...
HOLY SHIT, I HAVE DORITOS?!?!?!?!!!?!?
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Monday, June 23, 2008
An Unpopular Comedian
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"I just flew in from the battered women's shelter and boy are my arms tired!".
Friday, June 20, 2008
When TV Jumped the Shark
The school year has ended and I have begun to waste away in my own unemployed crapulence. Needless to say I am faced with a lot of free time and the tedious task of filling it. I’ve taken on a few different strategies to cope. First of all, I’ve found that sleeping can kill a great deal of time. Seriously. I just lie down, close my eyes, and I sleep. Sometimes up to 8 or 9 hours a day! For much of my remaining waking hours I struggle to keep myself busy because, well, you can’t masturbate all of the time. Trust me, it bleeds. To remedy the situation I’ve turned to masochism. That’s right, I’ve returned to my old friend, the television.
TV and I used to be tight. It would entertain me, and I would buy the shit it told me to. The system worked. Sometime between then and now, however, TV decided that it was better than me and instead of trying to entertain me, it would just play reality television shows. Ignoring the fact that this very title is an oxymoron, I would like to point out, for the record, that reality television is the embodiment of everything that is wrong with anything ever. It’s like the studios decided that rather than giving actors good scripts and filming them, they would just not give them scripts, and film that.
The other day I was watching NBC when they introduced me to a brand new show called, I swear I’m not kidding, ‘Celebrity Circus.’ I’m just going to type that one more time. Celebrity. Fucking. Circus. Now on the off chance that your brain hasn’t physically melted and begun to ooze out of your ears, I will take this opportunity to dispel any notions of respectability and point out that it is hosted by Joey Fatone of NSync 'fame.' His last name, coincidentally, describes exactly which member he was.
There’s no way I can imagine a show like this legitimately getting greenlit. It’s so stupid, that I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s actual a parody of how dumb reality TV has become. But this in itself is a problem. I don’t want my television self aware. I can’t laugh at it if it’s in on the joke. It’s like if a Cerebral Palsy victim hobbles up to me and yells ‘DON’T CEREBRAL PALSY VICTIMS LOOK STUPID!?!” It stops being funny and starts being sad. And that is what television has become. A retarded cripple with no perception of volume.
I don’t even know how reality television became so popular. Most horrific things start off as a good idea and then quickly deteriorate. For example, Robin Williams used to be funny before he started doing a bad impression of himself. Even something as terrible as AIDS started as something as wonderful as monkey rape. Reality TV never seemed like a good idea though. It’s progression is so ridiculous I feel stupid even typing it. It starts with MTV’s “The Real World.” That show is literally just people in a house. Then it evolved into ‘Big Brother.’ Big Brother is also people in a house, but this time, somebody wins. No stepping stone from here, it was just the Big Bang of Shit. Shows pop up left and right. People in all kinds of places, falling in love with all kinds of people, and winning all kinds of crap, and then one day, Ta Da! Celebrity Circus.
Reality TV shows are so cheap and they’re being produced so fast and frequently, I fear that within a few years every single person in the world will have their own camera crew following them around for their TV show. Society will come down to nothing but an all out ratings war, with people trying to spice up their shows however they can. Before we know it there’ll be ninjas and killer robots attacking left and right. Dramatic Soap Opera style fights and explosions, paternity tests, shootouts, and just all around mayhem as everyone does everything they can to secure viewers.
Then one day, some TV executive will have the genius idea of reintroducing scripted television. Only reality will be so ridiculous that the scripted, escapist, entertainment, will just be people hanging out, reading books, and talking about the weather. Of course by then the public will be too high-brow and they’ll demand that their scripted shows be more realistic. They start incorporating ninjas and killer robots, returning television to the ridiculous entertainment we once enjoyed and reality to what we now consider normal. That is, of course, until somebody decides that reality TV is ready for a comeback. Humanity suffers on ongoing cycle of robots as escapism and ninjas as reality over and over until we all become so stupid that we stop watching television and start producing it.
The worst thing about reality TV though, is that I occasionally find myself watching it. The other day was the finale of my favorite show, ‘Interpretive Dancing with the Stars.’ Michael J. Fox won when he had to perform, ‘Earthquake.’ It was AMAZING!!
Also, it's becoming almost impossible to do anything about it. Television cronies seem to speak a different language. Terms like ‘shoulder peak’ and ‘frankenbite’ make no sense to us normal folk, but have become a part of regular vernacular in ‘TV Speak.’ Even saying something basic like, ‘shoot a pilot’ doesn’t mean the same thing for a TV executive as it does for, say, an Iraqi.
I grew up on wholesome shows. Shows like Sesame Street, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and the Power Rangers. Shows embracing equality and even, occasionally, intelligence. Sure there were traces of racism, like making the Asian girl the Yellow Ranger and the Black guy the Black Ranger. It probably didn’t help that when they transformed into their respective attack vehicles, they called the black one, ‘Niggerbot,’ but ultimately it taught me that regardless of race we’re all equal when fighting side by side. Even niggers.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe mankind is nothing more than entertainment for some sort of supreme being or extraterrestrials. At least then we’d be the good kind of show. The kind that isn’t in on the joke. Maybe we’re the kid with Cerebral Palsy that doesn’t know everyone is laughing at him when he falls down the stairs. It’s possible we’re nothing more than a big galactic reality show.
And I hope to god we get cancelled very soon.
TV and I used to be tight. It would entertain me, and I would buy the shit it told me to. The system worked. Sometime between then and now, however, TV decided that it was better than me and instead of trying to entertain me, it would just play reality television shows. Ignoring the fact that this very title is an oxymoron, I would like to point out, for the record, that reality television is the embodiment of everything that is wrong with anything ever. It’s like the studios decided that rather than giving actors good scripts and filming them, they would just not give them scripts, and film that.
The other day I was watching NBC when they introduced me to a brand new show called, I swear I’m not kidding, ‘Celebrity Circus.’ I’m just going to type that one more time. Celebrity. Fucking. Circus. Now on the off chance that your brain hasn’t physically melted and begun to ooze out of your ears, I will take this opportunity to dispel any notions of respectability and point out that it is hosted by Joey Fatone of NSync 'fame.' His last name, coincidentally, describes exactly which member he was.
There’s no way I can imagine a show like this legitimately getting greenlit. It’s so stupid, that I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s actual a parody of how dumb reality TV has become. But this in itself is a problem. I don’t want my television self aware. I can’t laugh at it if it’s in on the joke. It’s like if a Cerebral Palsy victim hobbles up to me and yells ‘DON’T CEREBRAL PALSY VICTIMS LOOK STUPID!?!” It stops being funny and starts being sad. And that is what television has become. A retarded cripple with no perception of volume.
I don’t even know how reality television became so popular. Most horrific things start off as a good idea and then quickly deteriorate. For example, Robin Williams used to be funny before he started doing a bad impression of himself. Even something as terrible as AIDS started as something as wonderful as monkey rape. Reality TV never seemed like a good idea though. It’s progression is so ridiculous I feel stupid even typing it. It starts with MTV’s “The Real World.” That show is literally just people in a house. Then it evolved into ‘Big Brother.’ Big Brother is also people in a house, but this time, somebody wins. No stepping stone from here, it was just the Big Bang of Shit. Shows pop up left and right. People in all kinds of places, falling in love with all kinds of people, and winning all kinds of crap, and then one day, Ta Da! Celebrity Circus.
Reality TV shows are so cheap and they’re being produced so fast and frequently, I fear that within a few years every single person in the world will have their own camera crew following them around for their TV show. Society will come down to nothing but an all out ratings war, with people trying to spice up their shows however they can. Before we know it there’ll be ninjas and killer robots attacking left and right. Dramatic Soap Opera style fights and explosions, paternity tests, shootouts, and just all around mayhem as everyone does everything they can to secure viewers.
Then one day, some TV executive will have the genius idea of reintroducing scripted television. Only reality will be so ridiculous that the scripted, escapist, entertainment, will just be people hanging out, reading books, and talking about the weather. Of course by then the public will be too high-brow and they’ll demand that their scripted shows be more realistic. They start incorporating ninjas and killer robots, returning television to the ridiculous entertainment we once enjoyed and reality to what we now consider normal. That is, of course, until somebody decides that reality TV is ready for a comeback. Humanity suffers on ongoing cycle of robots as escapism and ninjas as reality over and over until we all become so stupid that we stop watching television and start producing it.
The worst thing about reality TV though, is that I occasionally find myself watching it. The other day was the finale of my favorite show, ‘Interpretive Dancing with the Stars.’ Michael J. Fox won when he had to perform, ‘Earthquake.’ It was AMAZING!!
Also, it's becoming almost impossible to do anything about it. Television cronies seem to speak a different language. Terms like ‘shoulder peak’ and ‘frankenbite’ make no sense to us normal folk, but have become a part of regular vernacular in ‘TV Speak.’ Even saying something basic like, ‘shoot a pilot’ doesn’t mean the same thing for a TV executive as it does for, say, an Iraqi.
I grew up on wholesome shows. Shows like Sesame Street, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and the Power Rangers. Shows embracing equality and even, occasionally, intelligence. Sure there were traces of racism, like making the Asian girl the Yellow Ranger and the Black guy the Black Ranger. It probably didn’t help that when they transformed into their respective attack vehicles, they called the black one, ‘Niggerbot,’ but ultimately it taught me that regardless of race we’re all equal when fighting side by side. Even niggers.
Sometimes I wonder if maybe mankind is nothing more than entertainment for some sort of supreme being or extraterrestrials. At least then we’d be the good kind of show. The kind that isn’t in on the joke. Maybe we’re the kid with Cerebral Palsy that doesn’t know everyone is laughing at him when he falls down the stairs. It’s possible we’re nothing more than a big galactic reality show.
And I hope to god we get cancelled very soon.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Saturday, June 07, 2008
The Divine Comedy?
The other day when I was out on my travels somebody stopped me and asked who my comic inspirations are. Well, let me rephrase. The other day someone asked me for the time, in response to which, I told him who my comic inspirations are. It was a hard question to answer because I’ve had so many, but I was able to construct a crude list off the top of my head. I started with the first three big ones I could think of: The Simpsons, Conan O’Brien, and my father. At this point the guy realized I had no intention of telling him the time and he walked away. I continued, however, because I was very, very, high. Several minutes later, after many more names and awkward stares, I came to my final and most revealing influence. I never realized the true comedic inspiration I’ve drawn from him until I muttered his name out loud to myself on the bus that day. “God,” I declared before adding, “It’s around 2:30.”
I’ve often debated whether God, if he exists, has a sense of humor. My initial reaction, thinking about the tragedy that occurred on 9/11, is no. It’s not the act itself that dissuades me, It’s just that if God had any sense of humor, he would’ve made the Middle Easterners attack America on 7/11. On the other hand, he made midgets.
I don’t want to give the impression that I hold no bias in this debate, I am, admittedly, an atheist. I used to be a believer but then a homeless man shattered my faith when he asked me if god could microwave a burrito so hot that not even he could eat it. This spiritual query had a severe affect on me and I could tell the homeless man knew it by the look in his eye when I told him, “I don’t know.” He really wanted that burrito.
I think it’s become clear though, that if God does exist, he has a great sense of humor. I mean, just look at the fossils; burying dinosaurs bones to test our faith? Now THAT’S wacky! It’s relieving to know that God had a sense of humor in creating humans; what is disappointing is that humans have shown no sense of humor in worshipping God.
Religion is serious business. On September 30, 2005, a Dutch newspaper printed some cartoons that offended members of the Islamic faith resulting in riots, the burning of Danish embassies of Syria, Lebanon, and Iran, and resulting in over 100 deaths. They have subsequently cancelled publication of ‘Family Circus, in Denmark.
The point is, people are very sensitive about their gods. It is not surprising then that Jews, God’s self-proclaimed “Chosen People,” are among one of the most hated groups in the world. The biggest criticism I hear is that all Jews love money which, quite honestly, is ridiculous. I mean when you go to Church they hand around a collection plate and tell you to give them money; when you go to Synagogue, they give you free hats! I’ve always imagined Catholics putting money into the collection plate, quietly mumbling to themselves, ‘here take it, I don’t want it. This shit’s for the jews!!!!” Just because the Jewish people have a lot of money, doesn’t mean we love it more than you, we’re just better businessmen. Jews are better at focusing and concentrating on the tasks at hand than most other groups because we spent so much time at concentration camps. You can go too if you want, but piece of advice: eat a big meal first.
Maybe it’s not fair to say that religion has no sense of humor, after all, Mormons wear magic underwear and believe in polygamy. I had a Mormon teacher when I was in high school and it was great. We’d have multiple choice tests and you could choose as many answers as you wanted. Buddhism also seems like they can take a joke. I mean, the main doctrines of Buddhism are to denounce material things and find inner enlightenment. In other words, they’re lazy. And the entire religion was founded by one man, one lazy, poor, fat man. Buddhist communion ceremonies replaced communion crackers and wine with cupcakes and chocolate milk. It’s delivered via drive-thru.
Al Qaeda members probably seem like they have the least sense of humor. I mean, sure, they’ve got that ‘HALALALALA’ sound they make before they stab you, and when they say ‘Go out with a bang,’ they really mean it, but that whole ‘72 virgins thing’ just throws me off. Radical Islamists are told that if they die in the name of Allah they will go to Heaven where they will receive 72 virgins. However, nothing that I’ve read of the Qu’ran (the title) says anything about the age or sex of these virgins. If God has the sense of humor I hope he does, I can only imagine that radical Islamists who kill themselves, and others, for God, find themselves in “heaven” where they’re put in control of a foster home, and forced to take care of 72 little babies. Enjoy your virgins, assholes.
There is one humorous element that many religions seem to share, an element many consider to be the ‘missing link.’ This element is, of course, funny hats. Jews start with Yarmulkes. Small headwear, effective and original, but being the short minded fools we are we gave them away like hotcakes. Next came the Sikhs. They said, “nice hats, jews! But check this shit out!” and they got bigger, funnier hats. In comes Christianity. “Guys, guys, guys,” Christianity interjects. “Christianity’s only gonna have one hat.” “One hat?” asks Judaism. “One hat,” Christianity confirms. “But it’ll be fucking huge! And we’ll cover it with jewels and shit, and make it pointy at the top. It’ll be soo sick, you have no idea!” And so the Pope, to this day, retains the funniest hat.
Do funny hats translate into senses of humor, though? Well let’s look at the track record: Witch hunting, the Inquisition, and Child molestation. I guess 1/3 isn’t that bad. To analyze Christianity we need to look at its mascot, Jesus Christ. Now I’ve written about Jesus before, but the only conclusion I came to is that I could beat him in a wrestling match, but I made no guess as to who would win in a comedy face-off.
God being the standup comedian that he is, it’s no surprise that his son is a magician. That being said he works in sadistic and confusing ways. People often ask me if I’ve found Jesus, but I don’t understand why I should be looking. For certain people it makes sense to hide. Osama Bin Laden, for instance, makes sense. Waldo also checks out, but Jesus? Story doesn’t make sense; “he’ll save your soul, but you gotta catch him first!”
And so here we are at the conclusion and still with no answer. Does God have a sense of humor? History tells us that God’s done some pretty terrible things. He even tried to kill off mankind with Noah’s Ark. Then again, it’s gotta take a pretty wild sense of humor to wake up one morning and go ‘Wait a minute, I should put all of the animals on a boat. Yeah, yeah, all the animals and, fucking…. THAT GUY!!!” So how about it? Is God a joker? Well they say that God made man in his own image, and if that’s true, than looking around me at the world we live in, I can say definitively that no. No, god does not have a sense a humor.
But then again, he did make midgets…..
I’ve often debated whether God, if he exists, has a sense of humor. My initial reaction, thinking about the tragedy that occurred on 9/11, is no. It’s not the act itself that dissuades me, It’s just that if God had any sense of humor, he would’ve made the Middle Easterners attack America on 7/11. On the other hand, he made midgets.
I don’t want to give the impression that I hold no bias in this debate, I am, admittedly, an atheist. I used to be a believer but then a homeless man shattered my faith when he asked me if god could microwave a burrito so hot that not even he could eat it. This spiritual query had a severe affect on me and I could tell the homeless man knew it by the look in his eye when I told him, “I don’t know.” He really wanted that burrito.
I think it’s become clear though, that if God does exist, he has a great sense of humor. I mean, just look at the fossils; burying dinosaurs bones to test our faith? Now THAT’S wacky! It’s relieving to know that God had a sense of humor in creating humans; what is disappointing is that humans have shown no sense of humor in worshipping God.
Religion is serious business. On September 30, 2005, a Dutch newspaper printed some cartoons that offended members of the Islamic faith resulting in riots, the burning of Danish embassies of Syria, Lebanon, and Iran, and resulting in over 100 deaths. They have subsequently cancelled publication of ‘Family Circus, in Denmark.
The point is, people are very sensitive about their gods. It is not surprising then that Jews, God’s self-proclaimed “Chosen People,” are among one of the most hated groups in the world. The biggest criticism I hear is that all Jews love money which, quite honestly, is ridiculous. I mean when you go to Church they hand around a collection plate and tell you to give them money; when you go to Synagogue, they give you free hats! I’ve always imagined Catholics putting money into the collection plate, quietly mumbling to themselves, ‘here take it, I don’t want it. This shit’s for the jews!!!!” Just because the Jewish people have a lot of money, doesn’t mean we love it more than you, we’re just better businessmen. Jews are better at focusing and concentrating on the tasks at hand than most other groups because we spent so much time at concentration camps. You can go too if you want, but piece of advice: eat a big meal first.
Maybe it’s not fair to say that religion has no sense of humor, after all, Mormons wear magic underwear and believe in polygamy. I had a Mormon teacher when I was in high school and it was great. We’d have multiple choice tests and you could choose as many answers as you wanted. Buddhism also seems like they can take a joke. I mean, the main doctrines of Buddhism are to denounce material things and find inner enlightenment. In other words, they’re lazy. And the entire religion was founded by one man, one lazy, poor, fat man. Buddhist communion ceremonies replaced communion crackers and wine with cupcakes and chocolate milk. It’s delivered via drive-thru.
Al Qaeda members probably seem like they have the least sense of humor. I mean, sure, they’ve got that ‘HALALALALA’ sound they make before they stab you, and when they say ‘Go out with a bang,’ they really mean it, but that whole ‘72 virgins thing’ just throws me off. Radical Islamists are told that if they die in the name of Allah they will go to Heaven where they will receive 72 virgins. However, nothing that I’ve read of the Qu’ran (the title) says anything about the age or sex of these virgins. If God has the sense of humor I hope he does, I can only imagine that radical Islamists who kill themselves, and others, for God, find themselves in “heaven” where they’re put in control of a foster home, and forced to take care of 72 little babies. Enjoy your virgins, assholes.
There is one humorous element that many religions seem to share, an element many consider to be the ‘missing link.’ This element is, of course, funny hats. Jews start with Yarmulkes. Small headwear, effective and original, but being the short minded fools we are we gave them away like hotcakes. Next came the Sikhs. They said, “nice hats, jews! But check this shit out!” and they got bigger, funnier hats. In comes Christianity. “Guys, guys, guys,” Christianity interjects. “Christianity’s only gonna have one hat.” “One hat?” asks Judaism. “One hat,” Christianity confirms. “But it’ll be fucking huge! And we’ll cover it with jewels and shit, and make it pointy at the top. It’ll be soo sick, you have no idea!” And so the Pope, to this day, retains the funniest hat.
Do funny hats translate into senses of humor, though? Well let’s look at the track record: Witch hunting, the Inquisition, and Child molestation. I guess 1/3 isn’t that bad. To analyze Christianity we need to look at its mascot, Jesus Christ. Now I’ve written about Jesus before, but the only conclusion I came to is that I could beat him in a wrestling match, but I made no guess as to who would win in a comedy face-off.
God being the standup comedian that he is, it’s no surprise that his son is a magician. That being said he works in sadistic and confusing ways. People often ask me if I’ve found Jesus, but I don’t understand why I should be looking. For certain people it makes sense to hide. Osama Bin Laden, for instance, makes sense. Waldo also checks out, but Jesus? Story doesn’t make sense; “he’ll save your soul, but you gotta catch him first!”
And so here we are at the conclusion and still with no answer. Does God have a sense of humor? History tells us that God’s done some pretty terrible things. He even tried to kill off mankind with Noah’s Ark. Then again, it’s gotta take a pretty wild sense of humor to wake up one morning and go ‘Wait a minute, I should put all of the animals on a boat. Yeah, yeah, all the animals and, fucking…. THAT GUY!!!” So how about it? Is God a joker? Well they say that God made man in his own image, and if that’s true, than looking around me at the world we live in, I can say definitively that no. No, god does not have a sense a humor.
But then again, he did make midgets…..
Saturday, May 10, 2008
COLESLAW!!!!!!!!!!!!
It seems like no matter where I go or what I do there’s always one person telling me that I’m crazy. This person's name is Harold Blurkenstein and he lives in my brain. He also tells me to burn things and buy flip flops in bulk. Worry not though, dear readers, for I can assure you that I’m not crazy-- just very eccentric and maybe a little schizophrenic. It's true, he is. Shut up. No, you shut up.
When I was a little kid I had an imaginary friend. We were more than friends, we were best friends, and we did everything together. Whether it be cleaning my room or ridiculing my wardrobe, he was always there to lend a hand or scream racial obscenities at his imaginary children. We had cool nicknames for each other too, I called him ‘Zorlax’ and he called me ‘Faggot.’ I still remember laying tied up on the basement floor every few days playing a game we affectionately referred to as ‘Rape.’ I lost every time.
Sure, years later it would turn out that Zorlax wasn’t an imaginary friend at all and I was, in fact, kidnapped, but that doesn’t change the fondness I have of our memories or the years of psychological abuse that I’ve been forced to deal with through intensive psychiatric care. In fact, I still keep in touch with Zorlax. I visited him recently and was relieved to learn that he still plays ‘rape’ with his new friends in prison, but he says he doesn’t win nearly as often.
The point I’m trying to make is that being ‘crazy’ is subjective and perhaps it doesn’t deserve the bad rep it gets. Granted, most of the voices in people’s heads aren’t very supportive. You never turn on the news and hear about a lonely man who shows up for work on his birthday and hears the voice in his head demand, “Cut them Paul. Cut them all… a piece of your birthday cake!!!” But maybe that’s just sensationalism. We’re led to believe that everyone who kills because a non existant being demands it is a nutjob, but that's simply not the case; many are just religious. The news never reports on the homicides resulting from a voice constantly complimenting someone’s shoes, because the friendly voices aren’t news worthy.
Just because somebody thinks and acts differently from the majority doesn’t mean they’re crazy. When you see a homeless man collecting empty water bottles to finish building his rocketship, you call him crazy and you judge him. Sure, he’ll probably never make it to the moon but that guy is probably much happier than you and I. That man has a purpose and he’s content to finish his rocket, get enough peanut butter to fuel it, and launch himself into the unknown. So you call him crazy if you have to, but where’s your water bottle rocket ship?
People are so quick to label the homeless as ‘crazy’. I don’t consider most of the supposed weirdos on the street crazy, I consider them brave. I would love to run around screaming all day, humping fire hydrants, and begging strangers for money, but I simply don’t have the guts. If you take off your pants, talk to yourself, and eat some shit off the floor in the privacy of your own home it’s totally normal, but if your home is the sidewalk than you're totally whacko. When you see a homeless guy beating one off in the bus terminal, he’s not crazy, he’s horny. Horny and brave.
Insanity has such a negative connotation and insane people by association. Just because somebody’s crazy doesn’t mean he’s unpleasant. I used to know somebody with multiple personality disorder and he was the nicest group of people I’ve ever met.
What I’m getting at is that we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because somebody speaks in languages that don’t exist or responds to everything you say by screaming “COLESLAW!!!!!” doesn’t mean he or she is nuts. If that person isn’t hurting anyone and he/she is happy, than who the hell are we to classify them as crazy? Maybe if we were all as confident to act as freely as these ‘weirdoes’ the world would be a better place. Instead of ridiculing those that live by their own rules maybe we should step back from the stresses of everyday life and conformity and try to find our own plastic bottle rocket ship.
Shut up. No, you shut up. Go buy flip flops. Okay.
When I was a little kid I had an imaginary friend. We were more than friends, we were best friends, and we did everything together. Whether it be cleaning my room or ridiculing my wardrobe, he was always there to lend a hand or scream racial obscenities at his imaginary children. We had cool nicknames for each other too, I called him ‘Zorlax’ and he called me ‘Faggot.’ I still remember laying tied up on the basement floor every few days playing a game we affectionately referred to as ‘Rape.’ I lost every time.
Sure, years later it would turn out that Zorlax wasn’t an imaginary friend at all and I was, in fact, kidnapped, but that doesn’t change the fondness I have of our memories or the years of psychological abuse that I’ve been forced to deal with through intensive psychiatric care. In fact, I still keep in touch with Zorlax. I visited him recently and was relieved to learn that he still plays ‘rape’ with his new friends in prison, but he says he doesn’t win nearly as often.
The point I’m trying to make is that being ‘crazy’ is subjective and perhaps it doesn’t deserve the bad rep it gets. Granted, most of the voices in people’s heads aren’t very supportive. You never turn on the news and hear about a lonely man who shows up for work on his birthday and hears the voice in his head demand, “Cut them Paul. Cut them all… a piece of your birthday cake!!!” But maybe that’s just sensationalism. We’re led to believe that everyone who kills because a non existant being demands it is a nutjob, but that's simply not the case; many are just religious. The news never reports on the homicides resulting from a voice constantly complimenting someone’s shoes, because the friendly voices aren’t news worthy.
Just because somebody thinks and acts differently from the majority doesn’t mean they’re crazy. When you see a homeless man collecting empty water bottles to finish building his rocketship, you call him crazy and you judge him. Sure, he’ll probably never make it to the moon but that guy is probably much happier than you and I. That man has a purpose and he’s content to finish his rocket, get enough peanut butter to fuel it, and launch himself into the unknown. So you call him crazy if you have to, but where’s your water bottle rocket ship?
People are so quick to label the homeless as ‘crazy’. I don’t consider most of the supposed weirdos on the street crazy, I consider them brave. I would love to run around screaming all day, humping fire hydrants, and begging strangers for money, but I simply don’t have the guts. If you take off your pants, talk to yourself, and eat some shit off the floor in the privacy of your own home it’s totally normal, but if your home is the sidewalk than you're totally whacko. When you see a homeless guy beating one off in the bus terminal, he’s not crazy, he’s horny. Horny and brave.
Insanity has such a negative connotation and insane people by association. Just because somebody’s crazy doesn’t mean he’s unpleasant. I used to know somebody with multiple personality disorder and he was the nicest group of people I’ve ever met.
What I’m getting at is that we shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because somebody speaks in languages that don’t exist or responds to everything you say by screaming “COLESLAW!!!!!” doesn’t mean he or she is nuts. If that person isn’t hurting anyone and he/she is happy, than who the hell are we to classify them as crazy? Maybe if we were all as confident to act as freely as these ‘weirdoes’ the world would be a better place. Instead of ridiculing those that live by their own rules maybe we should step back from the stresses of everyday life and conformity and try to find our own plastic bottle rocket ship.
Shut up. No, you shut up. Go buy flip flops. Okay.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Special Guest Entry by Helen Keller
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Edit: Get it? Because she's blind. Haha! GET IT!?!?!?!?
Edit: Get it? Because she's blind. Haha! GET IT!?!?!?!?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
New Entry: Now with twice as many calories!
There was a time long ago when being fat was considered attractive. Being portly meant that you had the money to afford large quantities of food, and therefore obesity was an admirable quality. There came a time however when people came to realize that fat people are gross and rather than finding plump suitors women decided to simply sleep with everybody in the hopes that they eventually hit a rich one. With the advent of cheap artery clogging fast food, the days of heaviness as a sign of financial dependability are gone. Being fat nowadays defines you as lazy, unattractive, buoyant, and applicable for a job in niche pornography.
We’re now living in a society where it’s acceptable to openly mock fat people. It’s wrong to ridicule people of color, midgets, or the handicapped because we’re taught that it’s wrong to judge people based on the way they look. Unless of course, they jiggle.
I bring this issue up because it’s an important aspect of my life. I grew up obese and when I turned 13 I lost a lot of the weight. I recently found it. I weigh myself occasionally to maintain a constant weight, and although it fluctuates slightly it generally stays relatively constant. I weighed myself recently after an extended hiatus and I was surprised by what my scale said. It said ‘Ow, get off!’
Gaining weight is a scary issue for me namely because of my childhood. As I said, I grew up obese and it was hard. As any fat kid, ugly girl, or minority knows, kids can be very cruel. In order to survive adolescence at that age you have to develop some kind of defense mechanism. Whether it be a sense of humor, an increased intellect, or rich grandparents, you’ve gotta have something that all those skinny fuckers don’t-- for me it was all three. Unfortunately when I started losing weight my grades dropped, my sharp sense of humor faded, and my grandparents started dying.
Obesity complicates things. For example, when you’re a fat kid you have to develop your own terms for things. The ‘see-saw’ became known as ‘the catapult.’ There were ‘swings,’ or as I called them ‘break-and-falls’ and of course ‘women,’ or as I called them ‘just friends.’ Stairs were out of the question, as they were nothing more than broken escalators and the closest thing to a treadmill I ever used was the moving sidewalk in the airport, which of course never did anything because it always went in the direction I was walking—towards the food court.
The whole process is a vicious cycle. As you gain more weight you feel worse and worse about yourself and the pain you feel grows. As the saying goes you ‘eat your pain away,’ unless of course you’re eating broken glass. Afraid of re-entering this cycle of chili-dogs and timbits I took preventative measures; I bought a ‘Bowflex’ machine. To pay for it I decided to use it and open up my own gym. The first guy that showed up was furious. I explained to him that it was a home gym but he was having none of it, so I refunded his money and returned the machine.
Nowadays, as I continue to expand, panic is beginning to set in. I’m desperate to lose weight and I’m willing to do anything other than exercise and eat right. I’ve heard that many of these fad diets all over the news work amazingly well for the small percentage of people that they don’t kill. Unfortunately, I love bread and hate grapefruit. Maybe I'll just learn to accept myself the way I am and not care so much what people think of me.
After all, I've always wanted to try niche porn.
We’re now living in a society where it’s acceptable to openly mock fat people. It’s wrong to ridicule people of color, midgets, or the handicapped because we’re taught that it’s wrong to judge people based on the way they look. Unless of course, they jiggle.
I bring this issue up because it’s an important aspect of my life. I grew up obese and when I turned 13 I lost a lot of the weight. I recently found it. I weigh myself occasionally to maintain a constant weight, and although it fluctuates slightly it generally stays relatively constant. I weighed myself recently after an extended hiatus and I was surprised by what my scale said. It said ‘Ow, get off!’
Gaining weight is a scary issue for me namely because of my childhood. As I said, I grew up obese and it was hard. As any fat kid, ugly girl, or minority knows, kids can be very cruel. In order to survive adolescence at that age you have to develop some kind of defense mechanism. Whether it be a sense of humor, an increased intellect, or rich grandparents, you’ve gotta have something that all those skinny fuckers don’t-- for me it was all three. Unfortunately when I started losing weight my grades dropped, my sharp sense of humor faded, and my grandparents started dying.
Obesity complicates things. For example, when you’re a fat kid you have to develop your own terms for things. The ‘see-saw’ became known as ‘the catapult.’ There were ‘swings,’ or as I called them ‘break-and-falls’ and of course ‘women,’ or as I called them ‘just friends.’ Stairs were out of the question, as they were nothing more than broken escalators and the closest thing to a treadmill I ever used was the moving sidewalk in the airport, which of course never did anything because it always went in the direction I was walking—towards the food court.
The whole process is a vicious cycle. As you gain more weight you feel worse and worse about yourself and the pain you feel grows. As the saying goes you ‘eat your pain away,’ unless of course you’re eating broken glass. Afraid of re-entering this cycle of chili-dogs and timbits I took preventative measures; I bought a ‘Bowflex’ machine. To pay for it I decided to use it and open up my own gym. The first guy that showed up was furious. I explained to him that it was a home gym but he was having none of it, so I refunded his money and returned the machine.
Nowadays, as I continue to expand, panic is beginning to set in. I’m desperate to lose weight and I’m willing to do anything other than exercise and eat right. I’ve heard that many of these fad diets all over the news work amazingly well for the small percentage of people that they don’t kill. Unfortunately, I love bread and hate grapefruit. Maybe I'll just learn to accept myself the way I am and not care so much what people think of me.
After all, I've always wanted to try niche porn.
Friday, April 11, 2008
If Anne Frank had a Time Machine....
Dear Diary,
Being alive is awesome!!
Sincerely,
Anne Frank
Being alive is awesome!!
Sincerely,
Anne Frank
P.S. I love my time machine.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Ode to the Old
Here’s the thing about old people, they suck. Not to say their personalities suck or anything like that, I genuinely enjoy talking to my grandparents (except the dead one, she’s a little dull) it’s just that you can’t really play with them. Their memory is so short that a game of ‘Hide and Seek’ quickly deteriorates into a game of ‘Hide While Grandpa Gets a Sandwich,’ and you can’t roughhouse because if they cut themselves dust pours from the wounds uncontrollably until they bleed out.
I don’t want to sound like I’m being insensitive or anything, but I am. Quite frankly I don’t care what the elderly think about this and I don’t care if I offend them. I mean, what’s a geezer gonna do? Take me out of the will?....
…. Old people are the best! They’re smart and experienced and handsome and rich. They’ve got good fashion sense, a quick humor, and great business sense. You’ve still got it grandpa!
I can’t wait to be old. Seriously I can’t, and not just because you get to shit your pants. No, I’m kidding, it’s totally because you get to shit your pants. Old people can do pretty much anything they want and they get a free pass. The day that I qualify for a seniors discount is the day I just start shitting my pants fucking everywhere.
I’ve got this scene in my mind that I’m just spending my life waiting to live out. I’m old and I’m standing in a crowded elevator. I hit the stop button and over the alarm system I start screaming ‘DIANE, I CAN’T FEEL MY PANTS. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, THE SQUIRRELS ARE COMING!!!!!!’ and while the rest of the elevator is sympathizing with my struggle with dementia, I emphatically shit my pants. The applause that follows is deafening.
You can just fuck with people when you’re old. In fact, I have a theory that nothing mentally changes with the elderly, they’re just screwing with us. There’s a convention in Florida once every 5 years where they agree on a bunch of characteristics for them to follow. Things like offhand racial remarks, poor driving, and pretending it wasn’t you who farted when it clearly was, Grandma!
This brings me to the greatest advantage of being old: sagging genitals. Now I know that a lot of you wouldn’t necessarily consider this a benefit, but allow me to explain. I shot off an email recently to an online ‘friend’ asking what she thought it would be like to be old. She responded like she always does, by telling me how to add inches to my cock and giving me links to animal porn. This got me to thinking about my grandpa’s testicles and I came to a shocking conclusion. I need therapy. Also, I concluded that the skin on his penis is sagging, making it larger, and his balls probably dangle like a tetherball.
When my nuts start drooping, I’m putting those bad boys right out on display. I’m surprised I don’t see more old guys in short shorts. My balls will never be inside my pants. I’ll always have them dangling out of my short legs, hell I’ll have them hanging out of my jeans. I’ll start every conversation with, ‘Look at the size of my balls!” When I buy new shoes I’ll get an extra one for my nuts and just let it swing along.
Not convinced, ladies? Well I’ve got some benefits for you, too. For starters, you can save money on shirts by just tucking your breasts into your pants. Secondly, you can have your husband eat you out and suck on your nipples at the same. Now I know what you’re thinking and the answer is yes. Yes, my mother does read this and yes she is very ashamed.
The final benefit to growing old is that you can do whatever the hell you want on the road. You can go 5 km/h on the highway, swerve across all the “lanes”, or drive right into a Korean fruit stand and people will forgive you when they see that you’re old. Contrary to this, most old people defy logic and drive very slowly. I’d imagine an old person’s steam powered train of thought would be thinking, ‘I better hurry, I could be dead any second,’ as they zoomed full speed through traffic, peeling out from red lights, trying desperately to reach their destination before the sweet release of death caught up to them. Oh well, live and learn. Then forget and die.
Some argue that growing old sucks because you lose control of your body as your physical abilities deteriorate. This may be true, but your body also adapts. It makes up for the things you lose. For example, as a woman ages it becomes more and more difficult to run. Your body recognizes this and to make up for it, your labia loosens, slapping against one another allowing your vagina to applaud your efforts.
Growing old is awesome. You can shit where and when you like, enjoy the cool wind on your saggy balls, and drive into whatever and whomever you like. Sure, every moment could be your last and all your friends are dead, but think of all the senior discounts.
Did I mention the saggy balls?
I don’t want to sound like I’m being insensitive or anything, but I am. Quite frankly I don’t care what the elderly think about this and I don’t care if I offend them. I mean, what’s a geezer gonna do? Take me out of the will?....
…. Old people are the best! They’re smart and experienced and handsome and rich. They’ve got good fashion sense, a quick humor, and great business sense. You’ve still got it grandpa!
I can’t wait to be old. Seriously I can’t, and not just because you get to shit your pants. No, I’m kidding, it’s totally because you get to shit your pants. Old people can do pretty much anything they want and they get a free pass. The day that I qualify for a seniors discount is the day I just start shitting my pants fucking everywhere.
I’ve got this scene in my mind that I’m just spending my life waiting to live out. I’m old and I’m standing in a crowded elevator. I hit the stop button and over the alarm system I start screaming ‘DIANE, I CAN’T FEEL MY PANTS. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, THE SQUIRRELS ARE COMING!!!!!!’ and while the rest of the elevator is sympathizing with my struggle with dementia, I emphatically shit my pants. The applause that follows is deafening.
You can just fuck with people when you’re old. In fact, I have a theory that nothing mentally changes with the elderly, they’re just screwing with us. There’s a convention in Florida once every 5 years where they agree on a bunch of characteristics for them to follow. Things like offhand racial remarks, poor driving, and pretending it wasn’t you who farted when it clearly was, Grandma!
This brings me to the greatest advantage of being old: sagging genitals. Now I know that a lot of you wouldn’t necessarily consider this a benefit, but allow me to explain. I shot off an email recently to an online ‘friend’ asking what she thought it would be like to be old. She responded like she always does, by telling me how to add inches to my cock and giving me links to animal porn. This got me to thinking about my grandpa’s testicles and I came to a shocking conclusion. I need therapy. Also, I concluded that the skin on his penis is sagging, making it larger, and his balls probably dangle like a tetherball.
When my nuts start drooping, I’m putting those bad boys right out on display. I’m surprised I don’t see more old guys in short shorts. My balls will never be inside my pants. I’ll always have them dangling out of my short legs, hell I’ll have them hanging out of my jeans. I’ll start every conversation with, ‘Look at the size of my balls!” When I buy new shoes I’ll get an extra one for my nuts and just let it swing along.
Not convinced, ladies? Well I’ve got some benefits for you, too. For starters, you can save money on shirts by just tucking your breasts into your pants. Secondly, you can have your husband eat you out and suck on your nipples at the same. Now I know what you’re thinking and the answer is yes. Yes, my mother does read this and yes she is very ashamed.
The final benefit to growing old is that you can do whatever the hell you want on the road. You can go 5 km/h on the highway, swerve across all the “lanes”, or drive right into a Korean fruit stand and people will forgive you when they see that you’re old. Contrary to this, most old people defy logic and drive very slowly. I’d imagine an old person’s steam powered train of thought would be thinking, ‘I better hurry, I could be dead any second,’ as they zoomed full speed through traffic, peeling out from red lights, trying desperately to reach their destination before the sweet release of death caught up to them. Oh well, live and learn. Then forget and die.
Some argue that growing old sucks because you lose control of your body as your physical abilities deteriorate. This may be true, but your body also adapts. It makes up for the things you lose. For example, as a woman ages it becomes more and more difficult to run. Your body recognizes this and to make up for it, your labia loosens, slapping against one another allowing your vagina to applaud your efforts.
Growing old is awesome. You can shit where and when you like, enjoy the cool wind on your saggy balls, and drive into whatever and whomever you like. Sure, every moment could be your last and all your friends are dead, but think of all the senior discounts.
Did I mention the saggy balls?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
The Creation of the Universe: for Dummies
There’s a lot of debate nowadays about teaching Creationism in school. While I object to this philosophy because, well, I have a brain, I’m hopeful that they’re right. I really do hope that god created life, the universe, and everything because at least then I’d have somebody to blame.
There’s a book called ‘The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,’ by the late, great, Douglas Adams. This novel deals a bit with the universe, explaining, “In the beginning the Universe was created. This made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.” This raises the age old question of whether or not the creation of the universe was a bad move? Sure to be unable to find answers in this novel I turned to another great work of fiction, The Bible.
While not providing any conclusive decision, it does provide some insight into how it all began. It’s difficult nowadays to find any trustworthy information in the bible because it’s been republished and rewritten so many times. For instance, the entire book takes on an entirely different tone after they removed the final chapter which simply read, “Just Kidding.”
The Bible doesn’t waste any time getting down to business. The very first line of the very first sentence of the very first paragraph of the very first page opens with, “First God made heaven & earth.” Okay, so one day God decides he’s gonna make something. This is where most people make an outline or a rough draft. Something, anything; just to get the ball rolling. Not god. Motherfucker starts with Heaven and Earth. Alright, so he’s got Heaven and Earth, but now what, right? Well for an encore the almighty snaps his fingers and says “Let there be light.” He didn’t even make light, he just willed it into existence. I mean, the Bible says that god made Heaven and Earth, but he just says ‘let there be light,’ and BAM, light. Keep in mind there’s nobody around at this point, it’s just god saying shit out loud to fucking nobody! He mumbles some shit about something that doesn’t even exist and where one would expect an embarrassing echo, instead light appears. Also, this means that God created Heaven and Earth IN THE DARK!!!!
On the second day God made the sky. Whatever.
Day Three: “God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.” For the first time in the bible now God sees that it was good. It quickly dawns on him that light was an awesome idea. When god finished with this he got some breakfast and played X-Box until around 10:30. He created vegetation right before bed.
On the fourth day God really didn’t do much. Got high, separated the light into night and day, ate an entire bag of Doritos, and fell asleep on the lawn.
On the Fifth day God made birds and fish. “And God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” The New Testament had some slight variations to this, it read,
Day Six was a big day: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth’ While this passage grants me ownership over everything, I respectively decline ownership over the Blacks. Lest we forget. “So God Created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him.” This explains why man is so often redundant. It also explains why we can be so repetitive. We say the same thing a lot. “And God blessed them, and god said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.” And it was really good.
At this point God was done. He looked around and he was content, and he said, ‘fuck it. ONE MORE DAY!’ “And on the seventh day God finished his work which he had done, and he rested.” Now this raises a few questions. First of all if god could create the earth and heavens and light simply by snapping his fingers then that leaves him approximately 24 hours of free time per day. Now the fact that he still had to take that 7th day to rest contradicts the previous statement that man was made in god’s image, because not all men are Mexican. See it’s funny because there’s a common stereotype that Mexicans are lazy. It’s a funny joke. Trust me.
The book of Genesis explains how the Universe was created but doesn’t give us any insight into whether it was a good or bad idea. If you read the rest of the bible, however, there tends to be a general theme that it was a terrible fucking idea.
Not only do I not believe that God exists but I think that the book about him sucks. It’s a continuous string of lies that lead people to do terrible things to each other. ‘God’ is an abomination and the only satisfying part of the bible comes when you finish; when you read those final few lines.
Just kidding.
There’s a book called ‘The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy,’ by the late, great, Douglas Adams. This novel deals a bit with the universe, explaining, “In the beginning the Universe was created. This made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.” This raises the age old question of whether or not the creation of the universe was a bad move? Sure to be unable to find answers in this novel I turned to another great work of fiction, The Bible.
While not providing any conclusive decision, it does provide some insight into how it all began. It’s difficult nowadays to find any trustworthy information in the bible because it’s been republished and rewritten so many times. For instance, the entire book takes on an entirely different tone after they removed the final chapter which simply read, “Just Kidding.”
The Bible doesn’t waste any time getting down to business. The very first line of the very first sentence of the very first paragraph of the very first page opens with, “First God made heaven & earth.” Okay, so one day God decides he’s gonna make something. This is where most people make an outline or a rough draft. Something, anything; just to get the ball rolling. Not god. Motherfucker starts with Heaven and Earth. Alright, so he’s got Heaven and Earth, but now what, right? Well for an encore the almighty snaps his fingers and says “Let there be light.” He didn’t even make light, he just willed it into existence. I mean, the Bible says that god made Heaven and Earth, but he just says ‘let there be light,’ and BAM, light. Keep in mind there’s nobody around at this point, it’s just god saying shit out loud to fucking nobody! He mumbles some shit about something that doesn’t even exist and where one would expect an embarrassing echo, instead light appears. Also, this means that God created Heaven and Earth IN THE DARK!!!!
On the second day God made the sky. Whatever.
Day Three: “God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good.” For the first time in the bible now God sees that it was good. It quickly dawns on him that light was an awesome idea. When god finished with this he got some breakfast and played X-Box until around 10:30. He created vegetation right before bed.
On the fourth day God really didn’t do much. Got high, separated the light into night and day, ate an entire bag of Doritos, and fell asleep on the lawn.
On the Fifth day God made birds and fish. “And God blessed them, saying, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” The New Testament had some slight variations to this, it read,
“And God blessed them, saying, ‘Let’s get bizzzayyyyy’ and a large disco ball did descend from the great firmament of the heavens, and Barry White’s soothing voice did blast from God’s Wilson Audio MAXX 2 Tower Speakers, and he saw that it was good. And God’s creatures did shout a resounding “What?” because they did not speak English.”
Day Six was a big day: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth’ While this passage grants me ownership over everything, I respectively decline ownership over the Blacks. Lest we forget. “So God Created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him.” This explains why man is so often redundant. It also explains why we can be so repetitive. We say the same thing a lot. “And God blessed them, and god said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.” And it was really good.
At this point God was done. He looked around and he was content, and he said, ‘fuck it. ONE MORE DAY!’ “And on the seventh day God finished his work which he had done, and he rested.” Now this raises a few questions. First of all if god could create the earth and heavens and light simply by snapping his fingers then that leaves him approximately 24 hours of free time per day. Now the fact that he still had to take that 7th day to rest contradicts the previous statement that man was made in god’s image, because not all men are Mexican. See it’s funny because there’s a common stereotype that Mexicans are lazy. It’s a funny joke. Trust me.
The book of Genesis explains how the Universe was created but doesn’t give us any insight into whether it was a good or bad idea. If you read the rest of the bible, however, there tends to be a general theme that it was a terrible fucking idea.
Not only do I not believe that God exists but I think that the book about him sucks. It’s a continuous string of lies that lead people to do terrible things to each other. ‘God’ is an abomination and the only satisfying part of the bible comes when you finish; when you read those final few lines.
Just kidding.
Monday, February 25, 2008
I promise the article is better than this title.
The Writer’s Guild of America recently came to an agreement with the major studio heads meaning that not only was there a recent influx of virgins resuming work in Hollywood, but also that this year’s Academy Awards ceremony didn’t have to be cancelled. I know that a lot of people hold some contempt for the ceremonies claiming that it’s just another opportunity for the Hollywood elite to gather together to congratulate themselves on a job well done. I disagree. I think that most of the celebrities do a very good job of coming off as humble and down to earth, and for that they should congratulate themselves. NBC can have broadcast rights.
Jon Stewart returned as host this year and did a formidable job. Originally they were considering getting Whoopi Goldberg to return as host, but eventually decided that with a woman or a black man set for the presidency, there was no need be politically correct and instead went for a fair representation of the Republican party; an upper class, aging, white guy. Coincidentally, he also makes a living laughing at the Iraq war.
I love the Oscars. Every year me and a few friends gather together to watch it, placing bets on all the winners. This year, however, I had to cancel the get together a mere hour before the festivities began because I came down with what can aptly be described as the plague. It’s just as well though; I had to go to a family dinner at 6:30 which would have caused me to miss half the show. Some of my family knew this and thus when I told them I was sick probably assumed that I was just making up a bullshit excuse. I was not. I do, however, understand why they would be upset. They think that family’s the most important thing and that I’m blowing it off, the jokes on them though. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m adopted.
As my sickness threatened to engulf me entirely I was given the perfect remedy, the OSCARS!!!! Beautiful people wearing beautiful clothing; and only for the split second the screen goes black as they cut to commercial was I forced to look at my own disgusting reflection. I am not an attractive man.
There weren’t many upsets this year. Among the few were Tilda Swinton for Michael Clayton. She upset Ruby Dee, the grandmother from American Gangster, who was favorited to win because, well, she’s old and black. Also taking a bit of an upset was Marion Cottilard, who won best actress for her performance in La Vie en Rose. Her portrayal of Edith Piaf was a historic performance and truly gut wrenching, but the film isn’t American, so really, who gives a shit?
There were a few other events which cannot go unmentioned. Owen Wilson made an appearance presenting the Best Live Action Short Oscar and later went on to lose the ‘Best Suicide’ award to Heath Ledger. The Academy made a public statement explaining their decision thusly, “While we have great respect and admiration for Mr. Wilson both professionally and personally, we could not honor him with this award as he simply did not get the job done.” Mr. Ledger was not in attendance to accept his award.
Speaking of wildly inappropriate and inconsiderate jokes, the portion of the show where they have a memorial for the celebrities that passed away was really good this year. It’s always fun listening to the audience clap harder and louder depending on how famous the person being honored is. If E! has taught me anything, it’s that famous people are better than me and attractive famous people doubly so. Probably because you have to account not only for their lives but also for the lives of all their illegitimate children who will now never have the opportunity to have their existence denied.
I have no real problem with any of the winners, except maybe Best Sound Mixing, which was total bullshit. The sound in Transformers was mixed way better than in The Bourne Ultimatum, everyone knows that. Aside from that one fictitious discrepancy I only had any real “beef,” as the kids say, with one film and its many nominations. Now don’t get me wrong, I liked Juno. I thought it was a sweet little film that was pretty funny and had heart. But it’s the type of film that you buy at Starbucks, not a Best Picture contender. Best Actress, Best Director, and Best Picture nominations? Ahh, the immeasurable power of hype. Diablo Cody, former stripper and current screenwriter, also won for Best Original Screenplay. Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking, “honest to blog?” but I assure you this story about a chicko who’s eggo was preggo ain’t no jive, turkey, and it took home the best writing Oscar, Home Skillet. I can see the quality in the story, but the dialogue in this film is like how a 97 year old Alzheimer’s patient imagines today’s youth speaks. It’s a combination of 1870s slang and retarded diction.
Finally, No Country for Old Men was a great movie and normally would be a deserving recipient of the Best Picture award. This year, however, it beat out the epic There Will be Blood, which is one of, if not, the best film of the past century. I have no joke or witty rhetoric. Just go see this movie, and bring a colostomy bag, because it will literally make you shit your pants.
So again the Oscars came and went, like a cheap male gigolo. I got my fix of pretty people honoring pretty people, and if even for a mere 4 hours I got to escape into the small window that is the world I wish I lived in. I got to see the people I admire sit in a room and tribute the artwork that I live for. One day of the year to honor these people. These celebrities, these idols, these gods.
Now I get another full year to make fun of the stupid shit they wore.
Jon Stewart returned as host this year and did a formidable job. Originally they were considering getting Whoopi Goldberg to return as host, but eventually decided that with a woman or a black man set for the presidency, there was no need be politically correct and instead went for a fair representation of the Republican party; an upper class, aging, white guy. Coincidentally, he also makes a living laughing at the Iraq war.
I love the Oscars. Every year me and a few friends gather together to watch it, placing bets on all the winners. This year, however, I had to cancel the get together a mere hour before the festivities began because I came down with what can aptly be described as the plague. It’s just as well though; I had to go to a family dinner at 6:30 which would have caused me to miss half the show. Some of my family knew this and thus when I told them I was sick probably assumed that I was just making up a bullshit excuse. I was not. I do, however, understand why they would be upset. They think that family’s the most important thing and that I’m blowing it off, the jokes on them though. I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m adopted.
As my sickness threatened to engulf me entirely I was given the perfect remedy, the OSCARS!!!! Beautiful people wearing beautiful clothing; and only for the split second the screen goes black as they cut to commercial was I forced to look at my own disgusting reflection. I am not an attractive man.
There weren’t many upsets this year. Among the few were Tilda Swinton for Michael Clayton. She upset Ruby Dee, the grandmother from American Gangster, who was favorited to win because, well, she’s old and black. Also taking a bit of an upset was Marion Cottilard, who won best actress for her performance in La Vie en Rose. Her portrayal of Edith Piaf was a historic performance and truly gut wrenching, but the film isn’t American, so really, who gives a shit?
There were a few other events which cannot go unmentioned. Owen Wilson made an appearance presenting the Best Live Action Short Oscar and later went on to lose the ‘Best Suicide’ award to Heath Ledger. The Academy made a public statement explaining their decision thusly, “While we have great respect and admiration for Mr. Wilson both professionally and personally, we could not honor him with this award as he simply did not get the job done.” Mr. Ledger was not in attendance to accept his award.
Speaking of wildly inappropriate and inconsiderate jokes, the portion of the show where they have a memorial for the celebrities that passed away was really good this year. It’s always fun listening to the audience clap harder and louder depending on how famous the person being honored is. If E! has taught me anything, it’s that famous people are better than me and attractive famous people doubly so. Probably because you have to account not only for their lives but also for the lives of all their illegitimate children who will now never have the opportunity to have their existence denied.
I have no real problem with any of the winners, except maybe Best Sound Mixing, which was total bullshit. The sound in Transformers was mixed way better than in The Bourne Ultimatum, everyone knows that. Aside from that one fictitious discrepancy I only had any real “beef,” as the kids say, with one film and its many nominations. Now don’t get me wrong, I liked Juno. I thought it was a sweet little film that was pretty funny and had heart. But it’s the type of film that you buy at Starbucks, not a Best Picture contender. Best Actress, Best Director, and Best Picture nominations? Ahh, the immeasurable power of hype. Diablo Cody, former stripper and current screenwriter, also won for Best Original Screenplay. Now I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking, “honest to blog?” but I assure you this story about a chicko who’s eggo was preggo ain’t no jive, turkey, and it took home the best writing Oscar, Home Skillet. I can see the quality in the story, but the dialogue in this film is like how a 97 year old Alzheimer’s patient imagines today’s youth speaks. It’s a combination of 1870s slang and retarded diction.
Finally, No Country for Old Men was a great movie and normally would be a deserving recipient of the Best Picture award. This year, however, it beat out the epic There Will be Blood, which is one of, if not, the best film of the past century. I have no joke or witty rhetoric. Just go see this movie, and bring a colostomy bag, because it will literally make you shit your pants.
So again the Oscars came and went, like a cheap male gigolo. I got my fix of pretty people honoring pretty people, and if even for a mere 4 hours I got to escape into the small window that is the world I wish I lived in. I got to see the people I admire sit in a room and tribute the artwork that I live for. One day of the year to honor these people. These celebrities, these idols, these gods.
Now I get another full year to make fun of the stupid shit they wore.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
...not that there's anything wrong with that.
Since the beginning of time man has dreamed of the future. It seems not long ago that professors and doctors were predicting the great advancements we would face in the new millennium. Alas the year 2000 came and went quickly, giving way to 2001 and there were no meals in pill form, there were no flying cars or jetpacks, there was no great technological revolution. These dreamers of yesteryear prophesizing self cleaning homes and lasers would surely be surprised to instead find married dudes sticking it in each other’s butts.
It’s hard, in today’s world where homosexuality seems to lurk around every corner, where every song on the radio seems to written by the gays, where the most offensive homosexual remark I can think of is calling them ‘the gays,’ to imagine a world where homosexuality isn’t accepted. Believing that homosexuality was always revered is not only naïve, but it’s a stupid belief and you’re a stupid person for believing it.
Until recently Gay Marriage was a concept as strange and ridiculous as Elephants having pillow fights on the Moon. All that changed, however, when in 2001 the Netherlands legalized gay marriage. For the first time in history you could legally get a prostitute, smoke a joint, and marry a dude (not necessarily in that order). It didn’t take long for North America to follow suit with Canada legalizing gay marriage and although some states haven’t legalized it yet, America’s well on their way. Every state in America has legalized gay marriage with the exception of Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
Three cheers for progress!!!!
Hip, Hip, Hooray!
It’s understandable that gay acceptance is still an issue. It seemed like the gay rights movement was ready to make great progress in the 80s, and then all of a sudden came the AIDS pandemic. As terrible as this was it’s hard to sympathize with them as they brought it upon themselves when they had all that unprotected sex with wild monkeys. Foolish gays.
In the new millennium gay rights is again a hot topic. It’s great that people are at least discussing legalizing gay marriage, but I really don’t understand the dilemma. Just once I’d love to sit in on one of the trials, I wonder what the arguments would be.
Defense: You’re honor, my client, a homosexual, is a human being entitled to the same rights as any other person. He’s an upstanding civilian, a legal citizen, and he asks nothing from the state other than to be recognized as a married couple with his partner. The only grounds to refuse his legal marriage are grounded in religion but the First Amendment to United States Constitution states that there is to be a separation of church and state. Why then can he not be married to his lover, grounded solely on the basis that he is a man?
Judge: Thank you. Would the prosecution like to state their argument?
Prosecution: I would, your honor. He slowly stands and turns to address the jury. Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. THEY’RE FUCKING FAGGOTS!!!!!! Long pause. FAGGOTS!!!!! The prosecution rests your honor.
It’s a shame that Christianity holds such power in these matters, because that seems to be the strongest opposing point. Christianity views homosexuality as heretic and would prefer to focus their efforts on holier practices, such as child molestation. Sure it may seem contradictory to condemn homosexuality then play with boys ding dongs, but you see, Christianity views homosexuality as a sexual act between two men, not a man and a child.
Still though, we should consider ourselves lucky to live in such a comparatively tolerant place. During a famous 2007 speech at Columbia University, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad asserted that there are no gay people in Iran. This seems to contradict with an Iranian law forbidding homosexuality, punishable by death, however President Ahmadinejad assures that this law was simply a side clause attached to the Unicorn and Leprechaun Mandate of 1996.
When I first heard of the case of two male teenagers, Mahmoud Asgari and Ayaz Marhoni who were hanged in 2005 because they had been caught having sex with each other, I was shocked. I was relieved however when reflecting on President Ahmadinejad’s speech, I realized that these two individuals did not in fact exist.
While being gay must be a very harrowing experience, its’ not all bad. First of all for males, they don’t have to worry about their partner having a headache, not being in the mood, or still recovering from ‘the abortion.’ The benefits for lesbians, god bless them, are far more obvious: they get to sleep with women. Also, all gay men can bake (it’s science) and real scientific studies have shown that gay men have, on average, slightly longer and thicker penises. See, I’m not gay.
Now that I’ve kissed some gay ass (figuratively speaking) I can rip it to pieces (literally). I’m so freaking sick of gay pride parades. You’re here, you’re queer, I’m fucking used to it. I mean Jesus Christ, riding down the street on a float shaped like balls, filled with other butch guys wearing, as implausible as it may seem, even smaller leather shorts, throwing out free condoms lined with toilet paper, only furthers your stereotypical image. It’s like having a Mexican awareness parade and just parking the floats on your lawn. Or a Black Awareness parade where everyone just rides down the street on my bike. My point is, if you want people to accept you as fellow members of society then you need to stop depicting yourselves as a circus sideshow.
For instance, in 1973 when the American Psychiatric Association removed homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistical manual of Mental Disorders, meaning that homosexuality was no longer considered a mental disorder, you could’ve just taken pride in the strides you’d made. It wasn’t necessary to hold a press conference where an unnamed leader in the gay community refuted this change by proclaiming that he was, and I quote, “crazy for cock.”
I apologize for the length of this entry and the lack of my usual hysterical pointed satire but I actually did some research and I felt this was a good opportunity for me to show off to you how smart I am. So why did I decide to write about homosexuality? Don’t get too excited dad, I’m not coming out. Last week I wrote about racism and I noticed a lot of parallels between homosexuality and the plight of the black man. While African Americans are struggling for social equality, homosexuals are still fighting for people to recognize their basic civil rights. What people do between closed doors is really nobody else’s business and as long as they’re not squirting ‘gay sauce’ at us, I see no reason for any type of differential treatment. Also, maybe some hot lesbians will read this and decide they wanna be my friend. So why did I write about homosexuality? Because I wanted to.
… I swear I’m not gay.
It’s hard, in today’s world where homosexuality seems to lurk around every corner, where every song on the radio seems to written by the gays, where the most offensive homosexual remark I can think of is calling them ‘the gays,’ to imagine a world where homosexuality isn’t accepted. Believing that homosexuality was always revered is not only naïve, but it’s a stupid belief and you’re a stupid person for believing it.
Until recently Gay Marriage was a concept as strange and ridiculous as Elephants having pillow fights on the Moon. All that changed, however, when in 2001 the Netherlands legalized gay marriage. For the first time in history you could legally get a prostitute, smoke a joint, and marry a dude (not necessarily in that order). It didn’t take long for North America to follow suit with Canada legalizing gay marriage and although some states haven’t legalized it yet, America’s well on their way. Every state in America has legalized gay marriage with the exception of Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Maryland, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.
Three cheers for progress!!!!
Hip, Hip, Hooray!
It’s understandable that gay acceptance is still an issue. It seemed like the gay rights movement was ready to make great progress in the 80s, and then all of a sudden came the AIDS pandemic. As terrible as this was it’s hard to sympathize with them as they brought it upon themselves when they had all that unprotected sex with wild monkeys. Foolish gays.
In the new millennium gay rights is again a hot topic. It’s great that people are at least discussing legalizing gay marriage, but I really don’t understand the dilemma. Just once I’d love to sit in on one of the trials, I wonder what the arguments would be.
Defense: You’re honor, my client, a homosexual, is a human being entitled to the same rights as any other person. He’s an upstanding civilian, a legal citizen, and he asks nothing from the state other than to be recognized as a married couple with his partner. The only grounds to refuse his legal marriage are grounded in religion but the First Amendment to United States Constitution states that there is to be a separation of church and state. Why then can he not be married to his lover, grounded solely on the basis that he is a man?
Judge: Thank you. Would the prosecution like to state their argument?
Prosecution: I would, your honor. He slowly stands and turns to address the jury. Your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. THEY’RE FUCKING FAGGOTS!!!!!! Long pause. FAGGOTS!!!!! The prosecution rests your honor.
It’s a shame that Christianity holds such power in these matters, because that seems to be the strongest opposing point. Christianity views homosexuality as heretic and would prefer to focus their efforts on holier practices, such as child molestation. Sure it may seem contradictory to condemn homosexuality then play with boys ding dongs, but you see, Christianity views homosexuality as a sexual act between two men, not a man and a child.
Still though, we should consider ourselves lucky to live in such a comparatively tolerant place. During a famous 2007 speech at Columbia University, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad asserted that there are no gay people in Iran. This seems to contradict with an Iranian law forbidding homosexuality, punishable by death, however President Ahmadinejad assures that this law was simply a side clause attached to the Unicorn and Leprechaun Mandate of 1996.
When I first heard of the case of two male teenagers, Mahmoud Asgari and Ayaz Marhoni who were hanged in 2005 because they had been caught having sex with each other, I was shocked. I was relieved however when reflecting on President Ahmadinejad’s speech, I realized that these two individuals did not in fact exist.
While being gay must be a very harrowing experience, its’ not all bad. First of all for males, they don’t have to worry about their partner having a headache, not being in the mood, or still recovering from ‘the abortion.’ The benefits for lesbians, god bless them, are far more obvious: they get to sleep with women. Also, all gay men can bake (it’s science) and real scientific studies have shown that gay men have, on average, slightly longer and thicker penises. See, I’m not gay.
Now that I’ve kissed some gay ass (figuratively speaking) I can rip it to pieces (literally). I’m so freaking sick of gay pride parades. You’re here, you’re queer, I’m fucking used to it. I mean Jesus Christ, riding down the street on a float shaped like balls, filled with other butch guys wearing, as implausible as it may seem, even smaller leather shorts, throwing out free condoms lined with toilet paper, only furthers your stereotypical image. It’s like having a Mexican awareness parade and just parking the floats on your lawn. Or a Black Awareness parade where everyone just rides down the street on my bike. My point is, if you want people to accept you as fellow members of society then you need to stop depicting yourselves as a circus sideshow.
For instance, in 1973 when the American Psychiatric Association removed homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistical manual of Mental Disorders, meaning that homosexuality was no longer considered a mental disorder, you could’ve just taken pride in the strides you’d made. It wasn’t necessary to hold a press conference where an unnamed leader in the gay community refuted this change by proclaiming that he was, and I quote, “crazy for cock.”
I apologize for the length of this entry and the lack of my usual hysterical pointed satire but I actually did some research and I felt this was a good opportunity for me to show off to you how smart I am. So why did I decide to write about homosexuality? Don’t get too excited dad, I’m not coming out. Last week I wrote about racism and I noticed a lot of parallels between homosexuality and the plight of the black man. While African Americans are struggling for social equality, homosexuals are still fighting for people to recognize their basic civil rights. What people do between closed doors is really nobody else’s business and as long as they’re not squirting ‘gay sauce’ at us, I see no reason for any type of differential treatment. Also, maybe some hot lesbians will read this and decide they wanna be my friend. So why did I write about homosexuality? Because I wanted to.
… I swear I’m not gay.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Keep Dreaming.
There are a lot of things wrong with the world. I know that, I’m not naïve. No world that gives Flava Flav a dating show, Al Gore a Nobel Prize, and women the right to vote is perfect. That being said, things are pretty okay. Now with that being said, there are still two things that really piss me off: Racism and Mexicans.
I’m just kidding, as long as they keep their cars off my roads and on their lawns, I couldn’t care less. Here’s the truth, I honestly have nothing against Mexicans, I don’t even know any Mexicans. So why would I say all that? Why am I so inherently racist?
In pursuit of an answer I thought I’d turn to Martin Luther King’s famous speech. I’ll admit that I was surprised by what I found. It started as I had expected but then went in a much more literal direction than I had anticipated.
“I have a dream,” he reassuredly began, but then,
“There’s, like, this… uhh… 12 foot tall hotdog. And he’s like, chasing me down the street,”
I made sure I was watching the right speech. He continued,
“And he’s screaming ‘I’m gonna eat your feet Martin!!!’ and I’m like, ‘Don’t eat my feet, giant hot dog!! Don’t eat my feet!!!”
Disappointed by how misquoted and unhelpful Mr. King was, I went to my grandfather for some answers. “Grandfather,” I asked, my rippling biceps glistening in the sun, “Black people are born black. When they’re in the sun they stay black, and when they’re embarrassed they remain black. When white people are born, we’re born pink. When we’re in the sun we turn bronze then red, and when we’re embarrassed we blush. Why then are black people referred to as coloreds?” He took a sip of his brandy, flashed a knowing smile, and replied, “Because when you hang them from a tree, they’re blue.”
I politely finished my dinner, respectfully smiled as he showed me his collection of Nazi paraphernalia, then excused myself when he insisted I take a shower. Needless to say I was shocked. Completely taken aback that my grandfather would hang a man from a tree when he could get a Filipino to do it for him.
See, I did it again. I have no reason to insult Filipinos. I’ve had Filipinos living with me all my life. Sure, they’ve stolen our car and dog, slept with my dad, and made up fantastical lies about my family, but they’ve never been anything but polite to my face.
The alarming thing to me is that I know I’m not racist. Correction: I know I’m not very racist. Everybody’s a little bit racist. Nobody sees an Arab on their airplane and doesn’t plan out their goodbye phone call; just like nobody would bet on the Chinese driver at the Indy 500. So I’m a little racist; fine, but why?
Is it because I’m white? Is it because I come from a long lineage of suppressors and abusers and it’s in my blood? Do I ask too many rhetorical questions? The definitive answer to all those questions is a big fat stinking “NO.”
I categorize people and believe in stereotypes for one simple reason, they’re true. Need proof? Well here’s the smoking gun: I’m Jewish and, I swear to god, I like money!!!!! Now I consider myself a smart guy and would usually avoid any type of circumstantial evidence, but let’s face it, the facts are clear. Society has told me a bunch of ridiculous classifications for entire nationalities of people and I dare not question it. Sure, I’d love to be able to stand up against society and yell ‘Hey, Society!” then scrunch up my face and make a pouty noise indicating my disapproval, but let’s face it, I’m just one man. Not only am I just one man, but I’m a Jewish man, and as a Jew I don’t have a very good track record when it comes to conflict. In fact I believe the only recorded instance of a Jewish person winning any type of confrontation was during the 2000 Vice Presidential Debates when Joe Lieberman and Dick Cheney debated over which “Back to the Future” was the best (Lieberman: The second one, and fuck all of you).
The point I’m trying to make is that not only is Racism real, but it’s also hilarious. Now before you go pre-judging me as a racist and shoving me into ovens, let me just make one more incredibly ignorant observation. With sympathy for minorities running so rampant nowadays, it’s become increasingly difficult for me to be white. That’s right, I’m a middle class white man, and I’m complaining about intolerance! The fact of the matter is that the “white devil” was responsible for a lot of terrible terrible things. Granted, I wasn’t one of those people and I’m genuinely not a racist; but darkie don’t care. I’m not filled with hate, I don’t have a white hood in my closet, and my igniting crosses has nothing to do with racial intolerance, I just hate crosses.
Being Black, or Chinese, or Filipino, or Mexican nowadays paints a picture of your cultural heritage. It associates you with a group; with a history. When somebody looks at any ‘minority’ they see a lineage of ancestors travelled here from the great rocks of wherever, overcoming great hardships, and making a name for themselves and their families. When people look at me, they just see a white guy. I’m a blank canvas. Frankly, I don’t think I should have to live with this shame. I shouldn’t feel guilty when I get a black waiter or when I stone a Muslim.
Looking at the progression of racial attitudes over the past few centuries it’s truly unbelievable; we’ve come so far, changed so much, and built a whole new world. Just imagine how much more we could’ve done with slaves. The progress truly is astounding though. African Americans are no longer required to sit in the back of the bus (although they’re always welcome), my family now let’s our housekeeper sleep inside the house, and I continue to hold out hope that one day I’ll see a white guy on BET.
Happy Black History Month, everybody.
I’m just kidding, as long as they keep their cars off my roads and on their lawns, I couldn’t care less. Here’s the truth, I honestly have nothing against Mexicans, I don’t even know any Mexicans. So why would I say all that? Why am I so inherently racist?
In pursuit of an answer I thought I’d turn to Martin Luther King’s famous speech. I’ll admit that I was surprised by what I found. It started as I had expected but then went in a much more literal direction than I had anticipated.
“I have a dream,” he reassuredly began, but then,
“There’s, like, this… uhh… 12 foot tall hotdog. And he’s like, chasing me down the street,”
I made sure I was watching the right speech. He continued,
“And he’s screaming ‘I’m gonna eat your feet Martin!!!’ and I’m like, ‘Don’t eat my feet, giant hot dog!! Don’t eat my feet!!!”
Disappointed by how misquoted and unhelpful Mr. King was, I went to my grandfather for some answers. “Grandfather,” I asked, my rippling biceps glistening in the sun, “Black people are born black. When they’re in the sun they stay black, and when they’re embarrassed they remain black. When white people are born, we’re born pink. When we’re in the sun we turn bronze then red, and when we’re embarrassed we blush. Why then are black people referred to as coloreds?” He took a sip of his brandy, flashed a knowing smile, and replied, “Because when you hang them from a tree, they’re blue.”
I politely finished my dinner, respectfully smiled as he showed me his collection of Nazi paraphernalia, then excused myself when he insisted I take a shower. Needless to say I was shocked. Completely taken aback that my grandfather would hang a man from a tree when he could get a Filipino to do it for him.
See, I did it again. I have no reason to insult Filipinos. I’ve had Filipinos living with me all my life. Sure, they’ve stolen our car and dog, slept with my dad, and made up fantastical lies about my family, but they’ve never been anything but polite to my face.
The alarming thing to me is that I know I’m not racist. Correction: I know I’m not very racist. Everybody’s a little bit racist. Nobody sees an Arab on their airplane and doesn’t plan out their goodbye phone call; just like nobody would bet on the Chinese driver at the Indy 500. So I’m a little racist; fine, but why?
Is it because I’m white? Is it because I come from a long lineage of suppressors and abusers and it’s in my blood? Do I ask too many rhetorical questions? The definitive answer to all those questions is a big fat stinking “NO.”
I categorize people and believe in stereotypes for one simple reason, they’re true. Need proof? Well here’s the smoking gun: I’m Jewish and, I swear to god, I like money!!!!! Now I consider myself a smart guy and would usually avoid any type of circumstantial evidence, but let’s face it, the facts are clear. Society has told me a bunch of ridiculous classifications for entire nationalities of people and I dare not question it. Sure, I’d love to be able to stand up against society and yell ‘Hey, Society!” then scrunch up my face and make a pouty noise indicating my disapproval, but let’s face it, I’m just one man. Not only am I just one man, but I’m a Jewish man, and as a Jew I don’t have a very good track record when it comes to conflict. In fact I believe the only recorded instance of a Jewish person winning any type of confrontation was during the 2000 Vice Presidential Debates when Joe Lieberman and Dick Cheney debated over which “Back to the Future” was the best (Lieberman: The second one, and fuck all of you).
The point I’m trying to make is that not only is Racism real, but it’s also hilarious. Now before you go pre-judging me as a racist and shoving me into ovens, let me just make one more incredibly ignorant observation. With sympathy for minorities running so rampant nowadays, it’s become increasingly difficult for me to be white. That’s right, I’m a middle class white man, and I’m complaining about intolerance! The fact of the matter is that the “white devil” was responsible for a lot of terrible terrible things. Granted, I wasn’t one of those people and I’m genuinely not a racist; but darkie don’t care. I’m not filled with hate, I don’t have a white hood in my closet, and my igniting crosses has nothing to do with racial intolerance, I just hate crosses.
Being Black, or Chinese, or Filipino, or Mexican nowadays paints a picture of your cultural heritage. It associates you with a group; with a history. When somebody looks at any ‘minority’ they see a lineage of ancestors travelled here from the great rocks of wherever, overcoming great hardships, and making a name for themselves and their families. When people look at me, they just see a white guy. I’m a blank canvas. Frankly, I don’t think I should have to live with this shame. I shouldn’t feel guilty when I get a black waiter or when I stone a Muslim.
Looking at the progression of racial attitudes over the past few centuries it’s truly unbelievable; we’ve come so far, changed so much, and built a whole new world. Just imagine how much more we could’ve done with slaves. The progress truly is astounding though. African Americans are no longer required to sit in the back of the bus (although they’re always welcome), my family now let’s our housekeeper sleep inside the house, and I continue to hold out hope that one day I’ll see a white guy on BET.
Happy Black History Month, everybody.
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