A FEW FUN LITTLE GAMES FOR NEW YEAR'S EVE
* Linger awkwardly as a loving couple attempts to enjoy a poignant New Year kiss. Get right up close and whisper, "Three more months, tops".
* Spike the champagne with Metamucil.
* At exactly 11:59:30pm, loudly announce that you just found out that your entire family has been brutally murdered. See who still insists on counting down to midnight.
* Cover the beverage table with religious pamphlets.
* Spice up the party by locking yourself in the bathroom and downing a bottle of Advil in a desperate cry for help. Write short suicide note on mirror with lipstick.
* Show off your fresh 2004 pubic hairdo! (I'm going with a sassy bob)
Happy New Year, muthafuckas. Try not to act like a tool.
Monday, December 29, 2003
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST ASSHOLES OF 2003
10. THAT OBNOXIOUS PSEUDO HIPSTER GUY FROM THE 'CRAZY WORLD' ANTI-SMOKING ADS (Ohhhhhh, how I hate thee. Hate. Haaaaaaate. You make me want to start up a three pack a day habit.)
9. SANTA BARBARA DISTRICT ATTORNEY TOM SNEDDON (This travesty of justice must stop. Leave Michael alone! Let he who hasn't molested a boy or three cast the first stone! Tom Sneddon is a cold man!)
8. THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE (Okay, I need to change my ways. I get it, already. But it's December 29th, fer chrissake! Time to move on. And stop eating my food, you damned freeloader.)
7. DAME JUDI DENCH (Am I right, or am I right?)
6. THE NAMELESS, FACELESS 'EXPERTS' ON PRETTY MUCH EVERY SHOW TO AIR ON VH1 IN 2003 (Here's the kicker: I'm occasionally one of them! But I'm not too deluded to recognize that we, collectively, are an asshole. Oh, and if anyone from VH1 programming is reading this: just kidding!! Ha ha ha ha ha! I love you guys! Call me!!!!)
5. SARA LEE (Nice apple crumb pie, ASSHOLE!)
4. SADDAM INSANE (No, this is not a reference to former Iraqi dictator Saddam Insane, as read through the evocative journalistic prism that is the New York Post. No, Saddam Insane is the name of a guy who works behind the counter at Chirp'n Chicken, down the road from my apartment. He always shorts me on napkins. I'm like, "Can I get a few more napkins, please?" And he hands me two more and is like, "You want more, twenty-five cents." And I'm like, "What the fuck, dick--they cost like .00000005 cents apiece." And he, like, just stands there. Whatever, asshole. Bummer about the name, though.)
3. DR. JONATHAN FABER (Sterile? Yeah, right! I don't think so, pal!)
2. THE MINNESOTA VIKINGS' SECONDARY (Do you fuckers realize what you did yesterday? You cost me $75,000!!! Play the ball, not the man! THE BALL!!! Now I have to leave the country! Thanks, fuckers.)
1. YOU (Oh, don't act all innocent--you know why.)
10. THAT OBNOXIOUS PSEUDO HIPSTER GUY FROM THE 'CRAZY WORLD' ANTI-SMOKING ADS (Ohhhhhh, how I hate thee. Hate. Haaaaaaate. You make me want to start up a three pack a day habit.)
9. SANTA BARBARA DISTRICT ATTORNEY TOM SNEDDON (This travesty of justice must stop. Leave Michael alone! Let he who hasn't molested a boy or three cast the first stone! Tom Sneddon is a cold man!)
8. THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE (Okay, I need to change my ways. I get it, already. But it's December 29th, fer chrissake! Time to move on. And stop eating my food, you damned freeloader.)
7. DAME JUDI DENCH (Am I right, or am I right?)
6. THE NAMELESS, FACELESS 'EXPERTS' ON PRETTY MUCH EVERY SHOW TO AIR ON VH1 IN 2003 (Here's the kicker: I'm occasionally one of them! But I'm not too deluded to recognize that we, collectively, are an asshole. Oh, and if anyone from VH1 programming is reading this: just kidding!! Ha ha ha ha ha! I love you guys! Call me!!!!)
5. SARA LEE (Nice apple crumb pie, ASSHOLE!)
4. SADDAM INSANE (No, this is not a reference to former Iraqi dictator Saddam Insane, as read through the evocative journalistic prism that is the New York Post. No, Saddam Insane is the name of a guy who works behind the counter at Chirp'n Chicken, down the road from my apartment. He always shorts me on napkins. I'm like, "Can I get a few more napkins, please?" And he hands me two more and is like, "You want more, twenty-five cents." And I'm like, "What the fuck, dick--they cost like .00000005 cents apiece." And he, like, just stands there. Whatever, asshole. Bummer about the name, though.)
3. DR. JONATHAN FABER (Sterile? Yeah, right! I don't think so, pal!)
2. THE MINNESOTA VIKINGS' SECONDARY (Do you fuckers realize what you did yesterday? You cost me $75,000!!! Play the ball, not the man! THE BALL!!! Now I have to leave the country! Thanks, fuckers.)
1. YOU (Oh, don't act all innocent--you know why.)
Sunday, December 28, 2003
ROLL AGAIN
Know this about the Parker Brothers classic, Monopoly: by games end, at least one person will be totally pissed off. Seriously, can you recall one time in your life when you and your parents/siblings/loved ones/in-laws/cell mates made it to the bitter end of a Monopoly endurathon without someone threatening violence/retribution/divorce/disinheritance?
What makes Monopoly such a remarkable/shitty game is how closely it mirrors who you really are. If you are a patient and organized financial planner in real life, this will reveal itself in the game--you acquire worthwhile properties at a sensible pace, never falling victim to momentary whim and ego, never overextending yourself. And if you are the kind of person who tends to "live for today", throwing around money the minute you get it, indulging in momentary extravaganzas, only to find yourself having to scrape and grovel every time some unforeseen expense (you know, like emergency dentistry or rent) pops up, this too will reveal itself in how you play Monopoly. I'll let you guess which type I am.
For the first half of the game, I'm buying up shit left and right, without a care in the world. "Oriental Avenue? Sure, I'll take that. Electric Company? Fuck yeah, lay that shit on me! Ventnor? Absolutely! I don't care if I'll only have $177 left--I'll be passing 'GO' in a couple of turns, and that's $200 more I have coming to me right there! So as long as I don't roll anything lower than a nine, I'm home free!" Cut to 45 minutes later, when I'm mortgaging off my once formidable fleet of properties in order to pay off whoever was smart enough to buy up all the goddamn railroads. Fuck you, B&O! From that point, it's just a slow march toward The Inevitable. I have $32 to my name and no income to speak of, other than what I might be able to score via 'Community Chest'. I am on edge. I am near defeat. I am looking desperately to blame my situation on intricate conspiracies and arbitrary distractions. Jiggling the dice in my hand for far longer than is necessary, I stare bleakly at the gauntlet of hotels between my sad little top hat and the relative safety of 'Luxury Tax'. And I wonder, "Just how the fuck am I going to get through this?"
That, friends, is my adult life in a nutshell.
Know this about the Parker Brothers classic, Monopoly: by games end, at least one person will be totally pissed off. Seriously, can you recall one time in your life when you and your parents/siblings/loved ones/in-laws/cell mates made it to the bitter end of a Monopoly endurathon without someone threatening violence/retribution/divorce/disinheritance?
What makes Monopoly such a remarkable/shitty game is how closely it mirrors who you really are. If you are a patient and organized financial planner in real life, this will reveal itself in the game--you acquire worthwhile properties at a sensible pace, never falling victim to momentary whim and ego, never overextending yourself. And if you are the kind of person who tends to "live for today", throwing around money the minute you get it, indulging in momentary extravaganzas, only to find yourself having to scrape and grovel every time some unforeseen expense (you know, like emergency dentistry or rent) pops up, this too will reveal itself in how you play Monopoly. I'll let you guess which type I am.
For the first half of the game, I'm buying up shit left and right, without a care in the world. "Oriental Avenue? Sure, I'll take that. Electric Company? Fuck yeah, lay that shit on me! Ventnor? Absolutely! I don't care if I'll only have $177 left--I'll be passing 'GO' in a couple of turns, and that's $200 more I have coming to me right there! So as long as I don't roll anything lower than a nine, I'm home free!" Cut to 45 minutes later, when I'm mortgaging off my once formidable fleet of properties in order to pay off whoever was smart enough to buy up all the goddamn railroads. Fuck you, B&O! From that point, it's just a slow march toward The Inevitable. I have $32 to my name and no income to speak of, other than what I might be able to score via 'Community Chest'. I am on edge. I am near defeat. I am looking desperately to blame my situation on intricate conspiracies and arbitrary distractions. Jiggling the dice in my hand for far longer than is necessary, I stare bleakly at the gauntlet of hotels between my sad little top hat and the relative safety of 'Luxury Tax'. And I wonder, "Just how the fuck am I going to get through this?"
That, friends, is my adult life in a nutshell.
Friday, December 26, 2003
ALAS, SINCERITY
I should probably write something snarky and hilarious to commemorate yesterday's Noel. But I am unable. The whole day was simply too good. All the family members who were able to attend were in fantastic spirits and I had the woman I love at my side. For one day (and perhaps one day only), I have not the energy to talk shit about anything or anyone. Not even myself.
It was a great holiday and I feel humbled and appreciative. I would say more but, simply put, this ain't that kind o' blog. It's difficult enough for me to get through these few sentences without undercutting the genuine sentiment with a cheap laugh. Right there, for instance--I was going to type "undercutting the genuine sentiment with a dick joke", but I decided that even typing the words "dick joke" would take away from what I was saying. But now, I've gone and typed it anyway (twice, even!), as a way of explaining what I was not going to do. So I have already screwed up my attempt to write a 100% sincere entry about having perhaps the most poignant Christmas of my life? Probably.
Anyway, Merry Post-Christmas, for those of you who celebrate that sort of thing. I'll go back to blithe ridicule now.
I should probably write something snarky and hilarious to commemorate yesterday's Noel. But I am unable. The whole day was simply too good. All the family members who were able to attend were in fantastic spirits and I had the woman I love at my side. For one day (and perhaps one day only), I have not the energy to talk shit about anything or anyone. Not even myself.
It was a great holiday and I feel humbled and appreciative. I would say more but, simply put, this ain't that kind o' blog. It's difficult enough for me to get through these few sentences without undercutting the genuine sentiment with a cheap laugh. Right there, for instance--I was going to type "undercutting the genuine sentiment with a dick joke", but I decided that even typing the words "dick joke" would take away from what I was saying. But now, I've gone and typed it anyway (twice, even!), as a way of explaining what I was not going to do. So I have already screwed up my attempt to write a 100% sincere entry about having perhaps the most poignant Christmas of my life? Probably.
Anyway, Merry Post-Christmas, for those of you who celebrate that sort of thing. I'll go back to blithe ridicule now.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
THE WORLD'S LEAST-APPRECIATED YULETIDE GIFT RESPONSES
Want to make a big splash on Christmas Day? Enjoy making people feel shitty about themselves? Well, upon opening a gift from a dear friend, family member or loved one, I urge you give one of these a whirl:
"Well, I guess I finally know what you really think of me."
"Great. I needed a new piece of shit."
"This is so sweet of you, grandpa. Especially given that this is probably your last Christmas."
"Jesus, how do you sleep?"
"I'm so relieved you didn't let taste get in the way of buying me this gift."
"Whoop-de-damn-do. Next."
"You know, I'd return this but I don't think the 99 cent store gives out refunds."
"Buying me this CD walkman isn't going to make up for years of shitty parenting. Just so you know."
"Hey, thanks! I was actually thinking about getting the same thing for you, but I needed weed money."
"You are a horrible person and this is a terrible Christmas present. I hate you."
"(sigh)"
"Wow, I don't deserve this. I mean, who are we kidding--neither do you. But I definitely don't deserve this."
Want to make a big splash on Christmas Day? Enjoy making people feel shitty about themselves? Well, upon opening a gift from a dear friend, family member or loved one, I urge you give one of these a whirl:
"Well, I guess I finally know what you really think of me."
"Great. I needed a new piece of shit."
"This is so sweet of you, grandpa. Especially given that this is probably your last Christmas."
"Jesus, how do you sleep?"
"I'm so relieved you didn't let taste get in the way of buying me this gift."
"Whoop-de-damn-do. Next."
"You know, I'd return this but I don't think the 99 cent store gives out refunds."
"Buying me this CD walkman isn't going to make up for years of shitty parenting. Just so you know."
"Hey, thanks! I was actually thinking about getting the same thing for you, but I needed weed money."
"You are a horrible person and this is a terrible Christmas present. I hate you."
"(sigh)"
"Wow, I don't deserve this. I mean, who are we kidding--neither do you. But I definitely don't deserve this."
Monday, December 22, 2003
AMERICA'S LEAST FAVORITE CHRISTMAS CAROLS
"The Two Thousand and Third Noel"
"Egg Nog Makes You Pretty"
"I Saw Daddy Giving it to Santa (In the Butt)"
"Pediatrics Ward Christmas "
"Baby Jesus Fucked my Girlfriend"
"Did Thou Keep Thy Receipt?"
"The Seven Car Yuletide Tragedy"
"Night of the Reigndeer: The Unholy Wrath of Prancer"
"All I Want for Christmas is Not to be Audited"
"Please Don't Hit Me, it's Christmas"
"I Forget to Poke Airholes in your Present (So Long, Winkles)"
"More Tinsel, Bitch!"
"My Name is Santa, and I have a Problem"
"Joy to the World (Except Karen)"
"The Two Thousand and Third Noel"
"Egg Nog Makes You Pretty"
"I Saw Daddy Giving it to Santa (In the Butt)"
"Pediatrics Ward Christmas "
"Baby Jesus Fucked my Girlfriend"
"Did Thou Keep Thy Receipt?"
"The Seven Car Yuletide Tragedy"
"Night of the Reigndeer: The Unholy Wrath of Prancer"
"All I Want for Christmas is Not to be Audited"
"Please Don't Hit Me, it's Christmas"
"I Forget to Poke Airholes in your Present (So Long, Winkles)"
"More Tinsel, Bitch!"
"My Name is Santa, and I have a Problem"
"Joy to the World (Except Karen)"
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Friday, December 19, 2003
HEY, SEE THAT PARTRIDGE OUT THERE, SWEETIE PIE? THE ONE OVER THERE IN THAT PEAR TREE? SEE HIM? HE'S ON A LOW BRANCH, KIND OF OVER TO THE RIGHT--NO WAIT, HE JUST MOVED! SEE HIM? OVER THERE! NO, OVER THERE. YEAH, THAT'S HIM. YEP. WELL, UM, HE'S YOURS. I AM HEREBY GRANTING YOU OWNERSHIP OF THAT THERE PARTRIDGE. SO, UM...ENJOY. MERRY CHRISTMAS.
For you, the loyal TOH readership: A holiday trivia nugget with which to amaze your friends and family:
Did you know that the popular Yuletide carol "The Twelve Days of Christmas" was originally titled "The Thirty-One Days of Christmas"? Yep, no shit! And in case you're curious, here's what the protagonist of the song's true love gave to her from Day 31 to Day 13:
On the thirty-first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:
Thirty-one ugly sweaters,
thirty Virgin Megastore gift cards,
twenty-nine bottles of Body Shop lavender foot scrub,
twenty-eight travel size Yahtzees,
twenty-seven Far Side calendars a-wasting,
twenty-six coffee mugs emblazoned with humorous statements related to how one's ethnic heritage contributes to his/her ability to perform sexually,
twenty-five pit bulls a-fucking,
twenty-four critically acclaimed novels I'll give lip service to reading,
twenty-three "free hug" coupons,
twenty-two tearful apologies for what happened three days ago,
twenty-one autographed photos of REO Speedwagon vocalist Kevin Cronin,
twenty unlaundered dance belts a-stinking,
nineteen drunken punches to the face and ribs,
eighteen cans of Pabst emptying,
seventeen Metrocards expiring,
sixteen unwanted tickets to that new Boy George/Rosie O'Donnell musical,
fifteen beef jerky flavored dental dams,
fourteen two pound bags of uncut Columbian cocaine,
thirteen venereal diseases a-spreading...
And you know how the rest goes: twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, etc. But don't sell this wonderful song short, people--be sure to sing the entire thirty-one day version on Christmas Eve to help get your family in the holiday mood!
For you, the loyal TOH readership: A holiday trivia nugget with which to amaze your friends and family:
Did you know that the popular Yuletide carol "The Twelve Days of Christmas" was originally titled "The Thirty-One Days of Christmas"? Yep, no shit! And in case you're curious, here's what the protagonist of the song's true love gave to her from Day 31 to Day 13:
On the thirty-first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:
Thirty-one ugly sweaters,
thirty Virgin Megastore gift cards,
twenty-nine bottles of Body Shop lavender foot scrub,
twenty-eight travel size Yahtzees,
twenty-seven Far Side calendars a-wasting,
twenty-six coffee mugs emblazoned with humorous statements related to how one's ethnic heritage contributes to his/her ability to perform sexually,
twenty-five pit bulls a-fucking,
twenty-four critically acclaimed novels I'll give lip service to reading,
twenty-three "free hug" coupons,
twenty-two tearful apologies for what happened three days ago,
twenty-one autographed photos of REO Speedwagon vocalist Kevin Cronin,
twenty unlaundered dance belts a-stinking,
nineteen drunken punches to the face and ribs,
eighteen cans of Pabst emptying,
seventeen Metrocards expiring,
sixteen unwanted tickets to that new Boy George/Rosie O'Donnell musical,
fifteen beef jerky flavored dental dams,
fourteen two pound bags of uncut Columbian cocaine,
thirteen venereal diseases a-spreading...
And you know how the rest goes: twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, etc. But don't sell this wonderful song short, people--be sure to sing the entire thirty-one day version on Christmas Eve to help get your family in the holiday mood!
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
I AM WITHOUT SHAME
Just a reminder to check out Smoking Gun TV tonight on Court TV at 8:30pm. Alternately, you can see it Friday at 11:00pm or Sunday at 11:30pm. My prediction for the show: funny.
If you need to refresh your memory about when it's on or to find out about other appearances, both on TV and in person, you can check my calendar (which is, admittedly, a tad sparse right now). This is the last time I will annoy you people with this.
Go back to your online shopping.
Just a reminder to check out Smoking Gun TV tonight on Court TV at 8:30pm. Alternately, you can see it Friday at 11:00pm or Sunday at 11:30pm. My prediction for the show: funny.
If you need to refresh your memory about when it's on or to find out about other appearances, both on TV and in person, you can check my calendar (which is, admittedly, a tad sparse right now). This is the last time I will annoy you people with this.
Go back to your online shopping.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
MAKE THAT CHANGE!
Wow.
Take this as a lesson, fellas: if you're going to hack off your own penis (and who among us hasn't seriously considered it at least once or twice?), make sure to rehearse your story a few times. Because apparently people will ask, and talk about embarassing!
Wow.
Take this as a lesson, fellas: if you're going to hack off your own penis (and who among us hasn't seriously considered it at least once or twice?), make sure to rehearse your story a few times. Because apparently people will ask, and talk about embarassing!
Monday, December 15, 2003
A CHRISTMAS CARD FROM DAVID LEE ROTH
Hey there, my little Christmas elves! Feliz Navidad from El Taco Grande! That's right, o little children of Bethlehem--it's your main man on the West Pole, sending good cheer over the sexotronic mental airwaves of WDAVE!
And speaking of poles, how about you naughty little Nancies come on over here and sit on Santa Dave's lap and we'll talk about the first thing that pops up?! Whooooo! That's what you call a double-trouble-super-bubble entendre, my little stocking stuffers! Let the festivilities begin! I'm ready to roll up my greensleeves and get my halls sufficiently decked!
Now I know, technicality-wise, this here holy infant ain't exactly tender and mild. In fact, I'm what you might call a Member of the Tribe--and I ain't talking about the Navajo! But that doesn't mean your little Yuletide cowpoke doesn't like having his candycane unwrapped every once in a while! Know what I'm saying, Good King Wencelaus? After all, it's like Telly Savalas once said to Joan of Arc: "No need for presents when you've got my presence!" I've got me a list, and I'm not just checking it twice--I'm correcting the spelling and scanning it for interplanetary crossword puzzle clues! So if ol' Rudolph wants to drive my sleigh tonight, he'd better get himself a degree in Eastern Folklore and an oil change! So holiday greetings to you, yours and whoever else's the Great Eye in the Sky has hanging around on the ol' Popcorn String of Life!
Yours,
DLR
P.S. Super wassail tree stand magnet parade, Blitzen!
Hey there, my little Christmas elves! Feliz Navidad from El Taco Grande! That's right, o little children of Bethlehem--it's your main man on the West Pole, sending good cheer over the sexotronic mental airwaves of WDAVE!
And speaking of poles, how about you naughty little Nancies come on over here and sit on Santa Dave's lap and we'll talk about the first thing that pops up?! Whooooo! That's what you call a double-trouble-super-bubble entendre, my little stocking stuffers! Let the festivilities begin! I'm ready to roll up my greensleeves and get my halls sufficiently decked!
Now I know, technicality-wise, this here holy infant ain't exactly tender and mild. In fact, I'm what you might call a Member of the Tribe--and I ain't talking about the Navajo! But that doesn't mean your little Yuletide cowpoke doesn't like having his candycane unwrapped every once in a while! Know what I'm saying, Good King Wencelaus? After all, it's like Telly Savalas once said to Joan of Arc: "No need for presents when you've got my presence!" I've got me a list, and I'm not just checking it twice--I'm correcting the spelling and scanning it for interplanetary crossword puzzle clues! So if ol' Rudolph wants to drive my sleigh tonight, he'd better get himself a degree in Eastern Folklore and an oil change! So holiday greetings to you, yours and whoever else's the Great Eye in the Sky has hanging around on the ol' Popcorn String of Life!
Yours,
DLR
P.S. Super wassail tree stand magnet parade, Blitzen!
Saturday, December 13, 2003
INVITE ME INTO YOUR LIVING ROOM!
You know, I'll be posting a reminder in a couple of days, but I wanted to give you fine folks a heads-up:
On Wednesday, December 17th, I will be appearing on the show Smoking Gun TV on Court TV. As you may have guessed, it's being produced in conjunction with the creators of the very popular Smoking Gun website. The show is hosted by former Daily Show correspondent Mo Rocca and I have every reason to believe it will be very, very funny. I am a field correspondent and I'll be filing a report on the plight of Ms. Michelle Padilla, a young churchgoing woman who, in a moment of carefree self-expression, was caught on camera and transformed into an unwilling Girls Gone Wild cover girl. Yes, folks, this is serious journalism.
(Must...not...make "hard news" joke... Must...resist...)
Anyway, the show debtus on 12/17 at 8:30pm and then re-airs on Friday, 12/19 at 11:00pm and Sunday, 12/21 at 11:30pm. You can read the press release here.
Oh, and as far as that first link goes? You know, this one? Well, they seem to have replaced my picture with that of a sweaty fat guy. I mean, sweet christ, never have I been so horrified at a picture of myself. Ever. There was one day we shot in the San Diego heat without a makeup person and of course they had to pull a still from that day. Ugh. Horrendous, I tell you.
Anyway, watch the show. And then go on to the message boards and talk about how fucking cool I am, so they'll give me more work. What could be more fun?
You know, I'll be posting a reminder in a couple of days, but I wanted to give you fine folks a heads-up:
On Wednesday, December 17th, I will be appearing on the show Smoking Gun TV on Court TV. As you may have guessed, it's being produced in conjunction with the creators of the very popular Smoking Gun website. The show is hosted by former Daily Show correspondent Mo Rocca and I have every reason to believe it will be very, very funny. I am a field correspondent and I'll be filing a report on the plight of Ms. Michelle Padilla, a young churchgoing woman who, in a moment of carefree self-expression, was caught on camera and transformed into an unwilling Girls Gone Wild cover girl. Yes, folks, this is serious journalism.
(Must...not...make "hard news" joke... Must...resist...)
Anyway, the show debtus on 12/17 at 8:30pm and then re-airs on Friday, 12/19 at 11:00pm and Sunday, 12/21 at 11:30pm. You can read the press release here.
Oh, and as far as that first link goes? You know, this one? Well, they seem to have replaced my picture with that of a sweaty fat guy. I mean, sweet christ, never have I been so horrified at a picture of myself. Ever. There was one day we shot in the San Diego heat without a makeup person and of course they had to pull a still from that day. Ugh. Horrendous, I tell you.
Anyway, watch the show. And then go on to the message boards and talk about how fucking cool I am, so they'll give me more work. What could be more fun?
Friday, December 12, 2003
I AM A HUGE PUSSY
A couple of days ago, I saw the move Love Actually. Here are my thoughts:
If irony is truly dead, Love Actually is the film that may singlehandedly bring it back to life. After penning a popular string of exercises in romantic whimsy, such as Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill, screenwriter Richard Curtis has ascended to the director chair and delivered a film so staggeringly cheesy, it amounts to an act of cultural bravery. Love Actually is comprised on nine (yes, nine!) vignettes on the many faces of...well, love. I mean, what the fuck did you think I was going to say?
Curtis seems to have conceived Love Actually as a sweetness endurathon, designed to find out just how much bullshit an audience is willing to swallow. "Okay, we've got Colin Firth overcoming a language barrier to find marital bliss with his Portugese housekeeper. Not cheesy enough for you? How about Liam Neeson playing a grieving widower who helps his precocious step-son win over his first love? No? Did I mention the precocious step-son's first love is a black girl?! Had enough yet? Well, try Laura Linney on for size! I mean, she gives up a promising sexual fling just to take care of her invalid brother! Whom she loves! I mean, this guy is totally fucked in the head, but she loves him! Love love love love love! Give up yet? Do you? DO YOU?!!" Perhaps most brutal is the film's final twenty minutes, which feels something like running a midieval gauntlet designed by Care Bears. You are pummelled again and again, as each and every story is resolved and adorned with a tiny little metaphorical bow, assuring you once and for all that love is indeed a wonderful thing. It is a very bold message and upon leaving the theater, you may feel compelled to murder a prostitute, just for the feeling of equilibrium.
Oh, and the most sickening part of the Love Actually experience? I actually kind of enjoyed it.
Don't tell.
A couple of days ago, I saw the move Love Actually. Here are my thoughts:
If irony is truly dead, Love Actually is the film that may singlehandedly bring it back to life. After penning a popular string of exercises in romantic whimsy, such as Four Weddings and a Funeral and Notting Hill, screenwriter Richard Curtis has ascended to the director chair and delivered a film so staggeringly cheesy, it amounts to an act of cultural bravery. Love Actually is comprised on nine (yes, nine!) vignettes on the many faces of...well, love. I mean, what the fuck did you think I was going to say?
Curtis seems to have conceived Love Actually as a sweetness endurathon, designed to find out just how much bullshit an audience is willing to swallow. "Okay, we've got Colin Firth overcoming a language barrier to find marital bliss with his Portugese housekeeper. Not cheesy enough for you? How about Liam Neeson playing a grieving widower who helps his precocious step-son win over his first love? No? Did I mention the precocious step-son's first love is a black girl?! Had enough yet? Well, try Laura Linney on for size! I mean, she gives up a promising sexual fling just to take care of her invalid brother! Whom she loves! I mean, this guy is totally fucked in the head, but she loves him! Love love love love love! Give up yet? Do you? DO YOU?!!" Perhaps most brutal is the film's final twenty minutes, which feels something like running a midieval gauntlet designed by Care Bears. You are pummelled again and again, as each and every story is resolved and adorned with a tiny little metaphorical bow, assuring you once and for all that love is indeed a wonderful thing. It is a very bold message and upon leaving the theater, you may feel compelled to murder a prostitute, just for the feeling of equilibrium.
Oh, and the most sickening part of the Love Actually experience? I actually kind of enjoyed it.
Don't tell.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
WORST SONGS WITH WHICH TO UNDERSCORE AN INSPIRATIONAL, ROCKY-ESQUE TRAINING MONTAGE
"The Lady in Red" by Chris DeBurgh
"Chicken Soup with Rice" by Carole King
"Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" by Edith Piaf
"I Love the Nightlife" by Alicia Bridges
"Hey You" by Pink Floyd
"Born Free" by Andy Williams
"Flying Purple People Eater" by Sheb Wooley
"Chains of Love" by Erasure
"Is That All There Is?" by Peggy Lee
"Heal the World" by Michael Jackson
"Itsy Bitsy Spider" (Trad.)
Anything involving Edie Brickell
"The Lady in Red" by Chris DeBurgh
"Chicken Soup with Rice" by Carole King
"Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" by Edith Piaf
"I Love the Nightlife" by Alicia Bridges
"Hey You" by Pink Floyd
"Born Free" by Andy Williams
"Flying Purple People Eater" by Sheb Wooley
"Chains of Love" by Erasure
"Is That All There Is?" by Peggy Lee
"Heal the World" by Michael Jackson
"Itsy Bitsy Spider" (Trad.)
Anything involving Edie Brickell
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
IF I CLOSE MY EYES FOREVER
Earlier this week, I promised an avid TOH reader that I would post something every single day this week. Thereofre, in accordance with that pledge, I present to you this piece of shit entry. I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. Zilch. It happens, you know.
I should mention that it is currently 8:36am (never mind the time signature--that thing is all f'ed up) and that I have not yet gone to sleep. Why is this, you ask? Beats the shit out of me. This is the third night in a row I have have seen daylight before going to bed. I'm always something of a night owl, but this is just ridiculous. You know you have a fucked up sleep schedule when not only do you see TV stations go off the air, you seem them come back on the air a few hours later. This is nonsense. I'm too old to be living like a college Sophmore during Finals Week. I think I may need to start giving myself roofies.
I'm suddenly exhausted, so I'm going to go sleep for an hour or two. Maybe I'll write something worthwile a bit later. But maybe not. The important thing is that I posted something, right? Um, right? Fine I'll try to write a joke before I go. Here goes:
The best thing about fucking a household pet is, you never have to fghwophir your efe[o daedppn Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Earlier this week, I promised an avid TOH reader that I would post something every single day this week. Thereofre, in accordance with that pledge, I present to you this piece of shit entry. I have absolutely nothing interesting to say. Zilch. It happens, you know.
I should mention that it is currently 8:36am (never mind the time signature--that thing is all f'ed up) and that I have not yet gone to sleep. Why is this, you ask? Beats the shit out of me. This is the third night in a row I have have seen daylight before going to bed. I'm always something of a night owl, but this is just ridiculous. You know you have a fucked up sleep schedule when not only do you see TV stations go off the air, you seem them come back on the air a few hours later. This is nonsense. I'm too old to be living like a college Sophmore during Finals Week. I think I may need to start giving myself roofies.
I'm suddenly exhausted, so I'm going to go sleep for an hour or two. Maybe I'll write something worthwile a bit later. But maybe not. The important thing is that I posted something, right? Um, right? Fine I'll try to write a joke before I go. Here goes:
The best thing about fucking a household pet is, you never have to fghwophir your efe[o daedppn Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
COLLAGENIFICENT!
TOPIC FOR DISCUSSION: I think artists today have it too easy and that makes for across-the-board mediocrity. It is therefore my opinion that we should re-start the Blacklist. Of course, that Communist rhetoric doesn't motivate people the way it used to, so we'll have to find something more interesting to persecute people for. Maybe I'll go after people who don't wash their hands after peeing. Or people who misuse the term "per se" (meaning: just about everyone). Or people who own Nickelback albums. I don't know what it's going to be yet, but this I can guarantee: names will be named.
I'll get working on it. And speaking of names being named, have fun floating around here for a while. I'll think you'll all agree with me when I say "Egads!"
TOPIC FOR DISCUSSION: I think artists today have it too easy and that makes for across-the-board mediocrity. It is therefore my opinion that we should re-start the Blacklist. Of course, that Communist rhetoric doesn't motivate people the way it used to, so we'll have to find something more interesting to persecute people for. Maybe I'll go after people who don't wash their hands after peeing. Or people who misuse the term "per se" (meaning: just about everyone). Or people who own Nickelback albums. I don't know what it's going to be yet, but this I can guarantee: names will be named.
I'll get working on it. And speaking of names being named, have fun floating around here for a while. I'll think you'll all agree with me when I say "Egads!"
Monday, December 08, 2003
THIS IS DANGEROUS... (and not particularly funny, just so you know)
I made the plunge. After consciously avoiding it for months and months, I finally started buying online music from iTunes. As big a music dork as I am, my friends are always shocked to find out that I never got in on the whole Napster/Limewire thing. There are actually a few reasons why I've avoided downloading tunes, legally and otherwise, until now:
1) As much as I look forward to the day when the major record companies crumble and fall into the sea (and it ain't gonna be too many years from now), I've always gotten tripped up on the ethical implications of file-sharing. I have no problem with uploading an occasional tune from a CD I actually own and sending it to a friend who might dig it, or vice-versa. But on a broad scale, it just seems a little fucked up, even if the vast majority of the money I spend on CDs is going straight into the pockets of the same people who are pushing Avril Lavigne, Clay Aiken and "Crunk" down my throat.
2) When it gets right down to it, I'm an "album" kind of guy. When of the things I enjoy most is buying an album based on liking one or two songs, and discovering a whole bunch of even better songs I'd never have heard if I'd simply downloaded the singles off the web. And there's a real art to putting together a true collection of songs. A great album is like those 1970s Japanese cartoon robots that came together to form one megarobot (a la Starvengers)--the sum is greater than the parts. Also, I like the tactile aspect of holding something in my hand, with cover art, an insert, etc. Call me a traditionalist.
3) I am afraid. I am afraid that once I open the Pandora's box of having access to new music any damn time I feel like it, I will never do anything productive again. And I honestly feel that if you can acquire anything at the drop of a hat, things will inevitably start to seem less valuable to you. I think back to how much I used to love certain albums in junior high and high school--I knew every single word, every single guitar solo, every drum fill by heart. And most of that music sucked! Contrast that with now, where I pick up great albums just about every week and I'll be lucky if I can remember more than a couple of song titles. I have this feeling that once you give yourself over to furious downloading, the actual enjoyment factor becomes something of an afterthought. Music is still a bit precious to me, and I want to keep it that way. And yes, I realize how "totally gay" that sounds.
That said, the iTunes store just makes it too damned easy. In little over an hour, I downloaded 15 wonderful tunes at the very reasonable price of $.99 apiece. I told myself that I could spend the approximate price of one CD and I managed to stick to it. I actually like that the songs aren't free, and not just for the ethics factor. A dollar isn't going to break my bank (at least, not at the moment), but the mere fact that I'm spending something forces me to ask myself, Do I really want this? Do I really need to have an MP3 of "Fly High Michelle" by Enuff Z'Nuff? No, I don't think I do.
Also, I'm going to limit myself to songs from albums I'm pretty sure suck, or from albums I once owned on cassette but know I'm never going to bother replacing. I find myself wanting to download two songs from the same album, I'm going to try and force myself to go out and buy the damned CD. We'll see how long that lasts.
Just in case you're curious, here are the songs I've purchased, in the order I downloaded them. And no, I'm not joking. Remember, I mentioned that today's entry wasn't particularly funny.
WARNING: LAUGHABLY PRETENTIOUS MUSING TO FOLLOW!!!
* "Milkshake" by Kelis
(Just go ahead and try to tell me this song doesn't rule. Try it! TRY IT!)
* "Boys Better" by The Dandy Warhols
(This song makes me wish I was really lanky so I could wear trendy clothes, suck in my cheeks and look sassy. Alas...)
* "Forbidden Colours" by David Sylvian and Ruyuchi Sakamoto
(This is a fleshed out version of the main theme music from the movie Merry Christmas, Mister Lawrence, complete with vocals. It's very beautiful.)
* "Desert Search for Techno Allah" by Mr. Bungle
(A great tune off of Disco Volante, which was a sloppy mess, otherwise.)
* "Who Are You" by "Tom Waits"
(Again: great song, so-so album.)
* "Sometimes Salvation" by The Black Crowes
(Shut up. It's a good song.)
* "Here Comes The Flood" by Peter Gabriel
(I love this song so damned much, but I know I'll never get around to buying the the whole album on CD.)
* "When it Began" by The Replacements
(A lot of old school indie purists don't consider anything off of All Shook Down to be the "real" Replacements, but I couldn't give two shits. This is a great tune, even if it was essentially a Paul Westerberg solo project.)
* "You Never Even Called Me by My Name" by David Allen Coe
(Many years ago, after being cruelly dumped and moving into a neighborhood where I knew absolutely no one, I found myself spending two to four nights a week sitting alone in a country western bar called Doc Holliday's. I would drink Southern Comfort and ginger ale and try to make chit chat with the ruffians. I suppose I thought I was being gritty and poetic. Man, what a d-bag I was. But I did come to really love a few country songs, this one in particular. It's got a great singalong.)
* "Space Age Love Song" by A Flock of Seagulls
(Laugh all you want, it's a beautiful pop song. And the guy's guitar sound rules.)
* "Let it Whip" by The Dazz Band
(This song is very important, in the context of contemporary social mores and...um... Okay, I'll admit it: this song kind of sucks. But I really loved it when I was a kid.)
* "Just My Imagination (Runnin' Away with Me)" by The Temptations
(A true classic. Just about perfect.)
* "What A Fool Believes" by The Doobie Brothers
(I will go to my grave swearing this is a great song. Hard to get a lot of people to agree with me on this one, I know. But I think we CAN all agree that it's fun to imitate Michael McDonald's singing voice.)
* "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)" by The Delfonics
(Another classic. I probably shouldn't mention that my girlfriend thinks this song was written by New Kids on the Block, should I? Nah, that would be too embarrassing for her.)
* "Joey" by Concrete Blond
(This song wasn't really like anything else Concrete Blond recoded, and I'm sure they probably came to hate playing it live. But the fact is, it's the best thing they ever did. If you think you don't know the song, trust me--you do.)
That's it. Oof. My fingers are cramping. Never have I written so much about so little. I hope the three of you who read this far enjoyed it.
I made the plunge. After consciously avoiding it for months and months, I finally started buying online music from iTunes. As big a music dork as I am, my friends are always shocked to find out that I never got in on the whole Napster/Limewire thing. There are actually a few reasons why I've avoided downloading tunes, legally and otherwise, until now:
1) As much as I look forward to the day when the major record companies crumble and fall into the sea (and it ain't gonna be too many years from now), I've always gotten tripped up on the ethical implications of file-sharing. I have no problem with uploading an occasional tune from a CD I actually own and sending it to a friend who might dig it, or vice-versa. But on a broad scale, it just seems a little fucked up, even if the vast majority of the money I spend on CDs is going straight into the pockets of the same people who are pushing Avril Lavigne, Clay Aiken and "Crunk" down my throat.
2) When it gets right down to it, I'm an "album" kind of guy. When of the things I enjoy most is buying an album based on liking one or two songs, and discovering a whole bunch of even better songs I'd never have heard if I'd simply downloaded the singles off the web. And there's a real art to putting together a true collection of songs. A great album is like those 1970s Japanese cartoon robots that came together to form one megarobot (a la Starvengers)--the sum is greater than the parts. Also, I like the tactile aspect of holding something in my hand, with cover art, an insert, etc. Call me a traditionalist.
3) I am afraid. I am afraid that once I open the Pandora's box of having access to new music any damn time I feel like it, I will never do anything productive again. And I honestly feel that if you can acquire anything at the drop of a hat, things will inevitably start to seem less valuable to you. I think back to how much I used to love certain albums in junior high and high school--I knew every single word, every single guitar solo, every drum fill by heart. And most of that music sucked! Contrast that with now, where I pick up great albums just about every week and I'll be lucky if I can remember more than a couple of song titles. I have this feeling that once you give yourself over to furious downloading, the actual enjoyment factor becomes something of an afterthought. Music is still a bit precious to me, and I want to keep it that way. And yes, I realize how "totally gay" that sounds.
That said, the iTunes store just makes it too damned easy. In little over an hour, I downloaded 15 wonderful tunes at the very reasonable price of $.99 apiece. I told myself that I could spend the approximate price of one CD and I managed to stick to it. I actually like that the songs aren't free, and not just for the ethics factor. A dollar isn't going to break my bank (at least, not at the moment), but the mere fact that I'm spending something forces me to ask myself, Do I really want this? Do I really need to have an MP3 of "Fly High Michelle" by Enuff Z'Nuff? No, I don't think I do.
Also, I'm going to limit myself to songs from albums I'm pretty sure suck, or from albums I once owned on cassette but know I'm never going to bother replacing. I find myself wanting to download two songs from the same album, I'm going to try and force myself to go out and buy the damned CD. We'll see how long that lasts.
Just in case you're curious, here are the songs I've purchased, in the order I downloaded them. And no, I'm not joking. Remember, I mentioned that today's entry wasn't particularly funny.
WARNING: LAUGHABLY PRETENTIOUS MUSING TO FOLLOW!!!
* "Milkshake" by Kelis
(Just go ahead and try to tell me this song doesn't rule. Try it! TRY IT!)
* "Boys Better" by The Dandy Warhols
(This song makes me wish I was really lanky so I could wear trendy clothes, suck in my cheeks and look sassy. Alas...)
* "Forbidden Colours" by David Sylvian and Ruyuchi Sakamoto
(This is a fleshed out version of the main theme music from the movie Merry Christmas, Mister Lawrence, complete with vocals. It's very beautiful.)
* "Desert Search for Techno Allah" by Mr. Bungle
(A great tune off of Disco Volante, which was a sloppy mess, otherwise.)
* "Who Are You" by "Tom Waits"
(Again: great song, so-so album.)
* "Sometimes Salvation" by The Black Crowes
(Shut up. It's a good song.)
* "Here Comes The Flood" by Peter Gabriel
(I love this song so damned much, but I know I'll never get around to buying the the whole album on CD.)
* "When it Began" by The Replacements
(A lot of old school indie purists don't consider anything off of All Shook Down to be the "real" Replacements, but I couldn't give two shits. This is a great tune, even if it was essentially a Paul Westerberg solo project.)
* "You Never Even Called Me by My Name" by David Allen Coe
(Many years ago, after being cruelly dumped and moving into a neighborhood where I knew absolutely no one, I found myself spending two to four nights a week sitting alone in a country western bar called Doc Holliday's. I would drink Southern Comfort and ginger ale and try to make chit chat with the ruffians. I suppose I thought I was being gritty and poetic. Man, what a d-bag I was. But I did come to really love a few country songs, this one in particular. It's got a great singalong.)
* "Space Age Love Song" by A Flock of Seagulls
(Laugh all you want, it's a beautiful pop song. And the guy's guitar sound rules.)
* "Let it Whip" by The Dazz Band
(This song is very important, in the context of contemporary social mores and...um... Okay, I'll admit it: this song kind of sucks. But I really loved it when I was a kid.)
* "Just My Imagination (Runnin' Away with Me)" by The Temptations
(A true classic. Just about perfect.)
* "What A Fool Believes" by The Doobie Brothers
(I will go to my grave swearing this is a great song. Hard to get a lot of people to agree with me on this one, I know. But I think we CAN all agree that it's fun to imitate Michael McDonald's singing voice.)
* "Didn't I (Blow Your Mind This Time)" by The Delfonics
(Another classic. I probably shouldn't mention that my girlfriend thinks this song was written by New Kids on the Block, should I? Nah, that would be too embarrassing for her.)
* "Joey" by Concrete Blond
(This song wasn't really like anything else Concrete Blond recoded, and I'm sure they probably came to hate playing it live. But the fact is, it's the best thing they ever did. If you think you don't know the song, trust me--you do.)
That's it. Oof. My fingers are cramping. Never have I written so much about so little. I hope the three of you who read this far enjoyed it.
Sunday, December 07, 2003
EVERY DAY IS LIKE SUNDAY
Through the ever-evolving magic of dork gadgetry, I present to you an audio recording of the "Three's Company" theme song, as performed by The Moz himself. (See below) You're quite welcome.
audio post powered by audblog
NOTE: In the four hours since posting this, I have contemplated deleting it seven times. How long will it be until the embarrassment becomes too much to bear? We shall see...
Through the ever-evolving magic of dork gadgetry, I present to you an audio recording of the "Three's Company" theme song, as performed by The Moz himself. (See below) You're quite welcome.
audio post powered by audblog
NOTE: In the four hours since posting this, I have contemplated deleting it seven times. How long will it be until the embarrassment becomes too much to bear? We shall see...
Friday, December 05, 2003
DOOLITTLE
Earlier today, I met a woman who works for a digital animation studio. They specialize in feature-length 3D animated movies, a la Toy Story and Monsters, Inc. At one point, she mentioned that they're currently listening to pitches, so if I ever come up with anything good, I should let her know. The only thing to keep in mind, she said, was that her company is interested, primarily, in stories about animals.
Well, I have to be honest: it's never really occurred to me to write about animals. Call me Species-ist, but I generally spend most of my creative time thinking in terms of human beings. But still, you have to take your career opportunities where you can get them, so I spent a little time last night coming up with some really great animal characters, around whom I'll write a string of worldwide blockbuster animated features. Let me know if any of these little critters sounds promising:
* On-the-Wagon Winky, a once-fearsome tiger who's working on his twelve steps, turning his life over to a higher power, and trying his best to take things one day at a time.
* Chester, the camel who only fucks models
* Sprinkles, an orphaned kitten who's taken in by a kind old alley cat and taught about the international Zionist conspiracy.
* Miss Darla, the eastern dwarf mongoose who survives years of incest and physical abuse to become the Kenyan animal community's most famous activist and talk show host.
* Alfonso, the gay-bashing pelican
* Terrence Trent Beaver, a wildly talented and vaguely effiminate beaver who becomes an overnight woodland superstar but soon falls fall prey to his own messianic complex and overblown ego, eventually reducing his once promising career to little more than a humorous footnote in the annals of forestry.
* Vicki, the mentally retarded sea turtle who runs a Bob Seger webzine.
* Maurice, the koala who find out his wife has been sleeping with a grizzly bear and responds by opening fire in a crowded fast food restaurant, killing twelve and critically injuring another three, before turning the gun on himself.
* Slutty badgers
Okay, that last one needs a bit of fleshing out, but I think the potential is pretty obvious. I can't wait for the merchandising tie-ins. Happy Meal residuals, here I come!
Earlier today, I met a woman who works for a digital animation studio. They specialize in feature-length 3D animated movies, a la Toy Story and Monsters, Inc. At one point, she mentioned that they're currently listening to pitches, so if I ever come up with anything good, I should let her know. The only thing to keep in mind, she said, was that her company is interested, primarily, in stories about animals.
Well, I have to be honest: it's never really occurred to me to write about animals. Call me Species-ist, but I generally spend most of my creative time thinking in terms of human beings. But still, you have to take your career opportunities where you can get them, so I spent a little time last night coming up with some really great animal characters, around whom I'll write a string of worldwide blockbuster animated features. Let me know if any of these little critters sounds promising:
* On-the-Wagon Winky, a once-fearsome tiger who's working on his twelve steps, turning his life over to a higher power, and trying his best to take things one day at a time.
* Chester, the camel who only fucks models
* Sprinkles, an orphaned kitten who's taken in by a kind old alley cat and taught about the international Zionist conspiracy.
* Miss Darla, the eastern dwarf mongoose who survives years of incest and physical abuse to become the Kenyan animal community's most famous activist and talk show host.
* Alfonso, the gay-bashing pelican
* Terrence Trent Beaver, a wildly talented and vaguely effiminate beaver who becomes an overnight woodland superstar but soon falls fall prey to his own messianic complex and overblown ego, eventually reducing his once promising career to little more than a humorous footnote in the annals of forestry.
* Vicki, the mentally retarded sea turtle who runs a Bob Seger webzine.
* Maurice, the koala who find out his wife has been sleeping with a grizzly bear and responds by opening fire in a crowded fast food restaurant, killing twelve and critically injuring another three, before turning the gun on himself.
* Slutty badgers
Okay, that last one needs a bit of fleshing out, but I think the potential is pretty obvious. I can't wait for the merchandising tie-ins. Happy Meal residuals, here I come!
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
THE INTERNET'S LEAST DOWNLOADED CELEBRITY SEX VIDEOS
Stanley Tucci: Exposed!
The Captain Lou Albano sex tape
Golden Girls Gone Wild
Members of Ratt buttfucking members of Dokken
Motel 6 Heiress Edna Furbidge: Live on Tape!
The Maya Angelou sex tape
Domo Arigato, Dennis DeYoung: The Video Styx Doesn't Want You to See!
The infamous John Madden turkey baster video
Suveillance camera footage of F. Murray Abraham jerking off at Chuck E. Cheese
The Barbara Bush 500
Stanley Tucci: Exposed!
The Captain Lou Albano sex tape
Golden Girls Gone Wild
Members of Ratt buttfucking members of Dokken
Motel 6 Heiress Edna Furbidge: Live on Tape!
The Maya Angelou sex tape
Domo Arigato, Dennis DeYoung: The Video Styx Doesn't Want You to See!
The infamous John Madden turkey baster video
Suveillance camera footage of F. Murray Abraham jerking off at Chuck E. Cheese
The Barbara Bush 500
Monday, December 01, 2003
SOMETHING TO PONDER
You know, as we enter the holiday season, a time of mirth and good cheer, I think it's importat to keep something in mind: responding to someone wishing you a "Merry Christmas" by saying "Happy Kwanzaa" isn't nearly as hilarious as you think it is. At best it's a lame joke, and at worst perhaps a teensy bit racist. Yes, I know--"Kwanzaa" is a strange sounding word and it kind of makes you giggle to say it. But by throwing out a sarcastic "Happy Kwanzaa", essentially what you're saying is, "Can you imagine how wacky it would be if I actually participated in this stupid-sounding heathen jubilee? What a crazy bunch, those Africans!"
Very funny...you racist.
I don't want to put too fine a point on it, though. Mostly it's just a lame joke. Although I will admit, it's hard not to chuckle a little bit when you read the lyrics to the traditional "Kawnzaa song". Someone might want to work on a re-write.
You know, as we enter the holiday season, a time of mirth and good cheer, I think it's importat to keep something in mind: responding to someone wishing you a "Merry Christmas" by saying "Happy Kwanzaa" isn't nearly as hilarious as you think it is. At best it's a lame joke, and at worst perhaps a teensy bit racist. Yes, I know--"Kwanzaa" is a strange sounding word and it kind of makes you giggle to say it. But by throwing out a sarcastic "Happy Kwanzaa", essentially what you're saying is, "Can you imagine how wacky it would be if I actually participated in this stupid-sounding heathen jubilee? What a crazy bunch, those Africans!"
Very funny...you racist.
I don't want to put too fine a point on it, though. Mostly it's just a lame joke. Although I will admit, it's hard not to chuckle a little bit when you read the lyrics to the traditional "Kawnzaa song". Someone might want to work on a re-write.
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