PTSOTL: June 2009

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Local News

A little challenge for all of you out in list-land. Tonight at 11pm, I want you to flip over to channel (whatever) and watch the 11 o'clock news. When you come back, you can read the rest of the post.

That shit is for real. Those were the things that they were actually reporting and talking about. I know. But! It gets better! Millions of people from all over the place actually watch it. All the fucking time. Even worse, sometimes they talk about it to me, directly to my face while I'm standing in line for grill day in the cafeteria. Hopefully the next time it happens, they'll be using a charcoal grill and I'll go out Brad Delp style before I hear the stunning conclusion to that car chase involving a teenager in Woburn.

Musicians talking about selling records

Ok, it's 2009, right? Could we maybe stop pretending that little plastic frisbees and coasters are a viable product that people still want to throw money down on and have cluttering up their places? Yeah it's really awesome that you're keeping it real and pressing some product for your record release that you're not even headlining, but hey I've only got 12 bucks on me and I need to get a couple more drinks tonight, so you know, good luck with the quaint, obsolete business model.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Goat Meat

There's a reason they only eat this gamey turd meat in the most impoverished countries in the world you know. And no, it's not because they've got a keen, worldly palate; unless we're talking about being able to distinguish between the different vintages of wind blown sand they inhale on the reg.

Doesn't matter how much coriander or cumin or whatever you brine this shit in, it's still gonna taste like sweaty prayer rug. I'll pass. Although if it's ok with you I'd still like to get signed off on the extra credit for my multiculturalism symposium for ordering it in the first place.

Complaining About the Cost of Food at the Movies or Ball Game

"When you factor in the cost of popcorn and a hot dog and a couple sodas, you're looking at another $40 bucks on top of the ticket! It's hard to bring your family out anymore."

First of all, bringing your family out.

Second of all, here's a wild idea: don't eat there. Just. Don't. Eat. For. A. Couple. Hours. You fat nervous mess.

It's hardly the ideal dining experience anyway being cramped into a row of tiny seats next to a herd of neck breathing savages. I think you'll be ok waiting out the massive stabs of hunger pain for just a little while longer till you get home.

Internet IQ Tests

Or any sort of ridiculous internet come-on for that matter. "I saved $40K last year using herbal viagra from home on my hoveround under my sundowner patented retractable shade, click this dancing hooker to find out how". No you didn't and no I won't. Somewhere someone allowed all this nonsense to happen. Al Gore probably.

Wax Museums

Are you the kind of person who likes to walk around in semi-illuminated halls leading to semi-illuminated rooms? Have a few dollars burning a hole in your pocket? You find pictures too one dimensional, but hate how real living things tend to move sometimes? Wax museums dude/lady. . . you should check these things out. It's just like meeting the celebrities of today and yesterday, only waxier.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Bruno

Fucking enough already. We get it. You've dickhammered it into the ground and left a mushroom stamp on the face of the American consciousness. Conservative red states hate the queers. Particularly more so when they show up at premieres in skintight patent leather lederhosen and frosted tips or dressed like a bull with a giant furry penis appendage. So controversial!!!! Hang it up. Sasha Baron Cohen has, how you say in English? Jooomped ze shark.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Self-Deprecating City and Town Nicknames

Stop calling Marshfield Marshvegas in an attempt to imply that it’s somehow ironically cool. It’s a run-of-the-mill middle class beach town with a bunch of white trash clowns, ne’er do wells and OxyContin addicts like every other South Shore crapfest.

Same for Nashua, N.H. Why is it “Nashvegas?” Because there are whores-a-plenty?

Also Plymouth (“Brockton by the Sea”) and Worcester (“Wormtown”). And calling Boston “The Bean.” (especially if you’re a white rap fan).

Michael Jackson

I am glad that this mentally ill scumbag is finally gonna be plant food. Actually he's the first corpse that needed to undergo extensive formaldehyde removal before they could properly embalm him. Come on people, we all have our own problems here, so let's just close this chapter of american celebrity worship and move on.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Reading the Classics

So my buddy is a college professor who teaches some Intro to College Lit course. (This is actually not true). Anyway, in this fake class he gives his fake students assignments to read that are considered classics of American literature. Being college educated in the Northeast, he brainstormed with me as to what we read as college kids (aside from Penthouse Forum). So he assigns his class The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. When I ask him why, he tells me that it will give them a chance to draw parallels to modern life. Of course, the famous Tom Sawyer story, according to what I just read on Wikipedia, is the bit where he gets banished to the front yard and made to whitewash the fence. Being the clever scamp that he is, he pretends that painting the fence is fun (maybe you should've read more Daniel-san). So we're talking about the student's discussion period and of course they all compare the fence painting to the parallels in our own society. Co-workers pawning their work off on you, students asking for your notes when they skipped class or whatever. But this is my problem with the classics. At this point, isn't this story pretty much irrelevant? Is anyone still dumb enough to fall for this sort of shit? Classics are on the list.

UPDATE: Wait just a goddamned second!!!

Abraham Lincoln

If there's one thing that all politicians agree about across the board, it's that Abraham Lincoln was the greatest POTUS of all time. Republicans think this because Lincoln was a racist, and Democrats feel this way because Lincoln wore a funny hat and looked like a hippy. Let's get it straight: The "Lincoln freed the slaves" speaking point is total bullshit similar to "GWB brought freedom to Iraq". This dude Paul that I know could probably elaborate on this a bit more in the comments section. I'm lazy, but at least I can tell you that Warren G. Harding was underrated.

These special interest vanity plates that everyone has these days:

Let's just chill out and get serious for a moment here. These plates with the Red Sox logo or the Breast Cancer Awareness motif or the picture of a lighthouse on Wellfleet...is there any need for these? Have you ever even lived on the Cape? Are you a Red Sox player? Do you have breast cancer or something? Good for you, survivor. Wait, you paid the registry of motor vehicles an extra Initial Registration Fee: $36 Special Plate Fee: $40 Renewal Fee: $81 every 2 years so you could have this shit on your car? Why not just tape a bunch of spent scratch tickets to your rear window instead you moron? I'll bet you support the troops but don't bother to send them sunscreen or chapstick.

Saying You Liked the Book Better

This one seems like shooting retarded fish in a barrel, and yet everyone, including me and you and every other person you've ever talked to do this all the time and are probably doing it right now.

We do understand the impulse. There are certain conversational prompts that subconsciously elicit an automatic response from people. Like when someone brings up whatever jerkoff northeastern college you went to, or the backwater town you came from, you are automatically compelled to identify yourself as one of their tribe. It's Pavlov's dog shit -- which, by the way, bringing up Pavlov's dog is on the List as well -- or some prehistoric caveman response system. It basically means don't stab me with a rock and rape my family, except in this instance you're talking about belonging to some dickhead author's cult of personality (Authors.) and not where the best place to hide from dinosaurs is.

Knowledge is power, right? When you let the person you're talking to know that you've gathered information they aren't necessarily privy to, you're trying to come off like some Heart of Darkness motherfucker returned from parts unknown with news of the mysterious. But instead you're just a dude who's been all the way to Border's and back on a mission for Oprah. Magellan with a kindle over here.

Save it, we all know the book was better. And we all know you're a douche, but you don't have to come right out and show us every chance you get, do you?

Hating Hipsters. Still.

OK, first of all: hating things. Second of all: no you don't.

I think what you're doing here is replacing the part for the whole. It's a common practice poets (Poets.) call metaphor and perverts who can't jerk off without sniffing vinegary sock pubes call a fetish (Fetishes.).

You don't hate hipsters, what you hate are assholes. You don't hate someone because of their haircut, you hate them because of the smug, shit eating grin floating underneath it. Or because you don't like the way that they hate things different than you hate things. You know, tangible, important shit.

Now, there may be a case to be made about the correlation between the number of ridiculous retro fluorescent pieces of flare some douche accessorizes his beard and DJ bag (is that a thing?) with, but cracking on a dude because his costume is comprised of slightly different configurations of patterned cloth than your own personal costume isn't really the type of high degree of difficulty banality smashing we're looking for here. What, do you hate reality tv and neo-cons too? Bush league, amateur shit.

Although come to think of it, those kids in the ubiquitous terrorist scarves chap my ass up pretty good. They can all die in an avalanche of fire.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Hi friend! I just got an email notifying me that I have a Facebook message from you. The text of the message is right there in the email. Which is great, because now to respond to it, I have to open another window, go to Facebook, login, click on my inbox, and root around and so forth before firing off my reply. By the way, don't you have my email address? I think you do. So do me a favor: Just email me directly next time and save me the five additional steps. And if there's any confusion vis-a-vis the appropriate mode of communication in the future, just ask yourself: "Am I using modern technology to facilitate communication? Or am I a fucking asshole?" Because if the latter, you're on the list.

Skateboarding Adults

40 is the new 30 and 20 is the new wriggle vaginawards. Doing your part to save the planet there hotwheels? Sticking it to the man at every turn? How bout we hand that deck down to an actual child, and not a grownup, bearded version of one.

It is really sweet that you are from California, or actually Utah, but stayed with a cousin in Orange County for a week once. But back here on the big bad East Coast we really are going to have to ask you to do your rollin & asshollin on a motorcycle or in some ridiculous sportscar or tinted racetruck.

And again, there are rules dictating how ridiculous and how many people you must flip off before you're allowed to put that badboy pissing on a dodge logo up there. Getting ahead of myself though. Skateboarding is not a crime braaa, neither is pulling poopie out of your pants and showing it to a waitress. But let's try to all get along like normal people here.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Punny Headlines

We've been trying for a long time to come up with a way to make this concept funny without success. I guess it's a lot like every other post on here in that respect. But much like sneezing, puking and deucing your pants simultaneously, it's kind of hard for the human brain to handle both face numbing rage and humor at the same time. For real. Just look at these dudes who walk around angry all day. Ever see a funny Republican for example? Didn't think so.

Get a load of this steaming mess up here on the left. I'm not only embarrassed as a "journalist," but as a person who can read. We're looking at the lazy hack trifecta:

Illogical, truncated alliteration: "Jets plan Plax play."

Pointless rhyming that adds nothing to our understanding of the story: "Yanks weep as Sox sweep." The Yanks did not weep. We all know ths.

And the kicker, a serious story reduced to a goofy but recognizable cliche that...what? How does this help anyone understand anything? "Hog Wild"? That's what you did. You came into work and decided on that. And presumably a series of other editors agreed on this? For your giant newspaper in a huge city? You deserve to go out of business. Everyone does. We're shutting the whole thing down. Not just newspapers. Everything.

Here's a couple more examples it took us five seconds of Googling to find. For more pick up any newspaper or magazine ever printed.

Ok, so here is this. Oh good, a phrase I recognize. I guess I'm obligated to read the story now.

Hehe. I see what you did here.

Ok, so this is...Uh? That sounds like a word I know. I guess...it's supposed to be...negative, right? Is it negative? No one likes skunks. Fuck it, just to be safe I better pick it up and find out what's going on with these skunks.

You can't argue with logic like that. Not when it rhymes. Rhymes are like logic steroids.

[Snickers] That's not how you spell that word silly!

[head explodes]

Shaving for Work

I can see how tying a colorful piece of patterned cloth around my neck might make me do my job better, that's just first day business school talk. First you get the supply and demand lesson, then the thing with the thing around your neck.

Although, and I don't want to stir the pot here, encouraging me to show up with hundreds of bloody, ingrown hair bumps up and down my neck seems just a touch arbitrary.

I know we've been doing this for hundreds of years now, but remind me again what rolling into the office looking like I just crashed my motorcycle neck first into a poison ivy frialator has to do with professionalism?

Chatting Someone Up at the Bar

I'm not what you might call a narcissistic social invalid, so it's a little hard to understand the oblivious haze most people swim around in all day. But I am a person who's been to a bar alone more than once in my life, so I'm gonna do a little math on the fly here, lay out a few guesstimates, propose some hypotheses and see if we can't get a conclusion.

Join me in the old douche lab, won't you?

Number of times you can explode some non sequitur diarrhea onto the person sitting next to you at the bar in order to rope them into a conversation they don't want to have:

1 + x/5. x being the number of syllables in the obligatorily friendly but disintersted grunt the person responds with.

Minutes you may talk about yourself without allowing for a reponse from the person you just pulled into your lonely life:

>.5

Number of consecutive yeahs, I knows, or yups you get in response before it means it's time to hitch that banality wagon to the next person down the bar, because I am not fucking feeling it right now and you would obviously be able to tell that if you weren't a clueless cat-lady/serial killer dude/ regular every day alcoholic (none taken everyone here) with a wacky story about your day at the office.

2.5

It's a pretty straightforward proposition here. If I want to talk to you, you will for fucking sure know about, vis a vis my mouth making words in the general vicinity of your hearing holes. That's what people who want to talk do. They talk to you. People who don't sit here reading like me and probably haven't made eye contact in ten minutes. Who knows though, maybe telling me you're sorry to interrupt like five more times might do the trick. Beats sitting there alone.

Cocktail Purist Fascists

Don't get it twisted, we appreciate your respect for your job, we do. As much as we can appreciate anything, which admittedly isn't that much. But if it's ok with you we're just gonna go ahead and drink this here shitty well vodka with flaming sugar juice and exploding fruit and flashing salted lights out of a glass big enough to sit inside and save the lecture on Depression-era mixing techniques and their effects on getting dudes in old timey hats drunk on the way back from the breadline for next time.

Manhattans are great. They really are. We get where you're coming from. Simple, well-made, classic. They are really, really great. Just great. But you're starting to turn into one of those Civil War reenactment types with this classic cocktail fetish. They made cars back then too you know? I must have missed your Model T parked out front.

You know what else they made 100 years ago? Food. Somehow chefs have managed to innovate since then without feeling like sell outs. There's nothing wrong with mastering your craft or what have you, and respecting tradition, but this is America, dude, and remaining oblivious to history is sort of our thing.

Tell you what, you really want to pull me into this classic cocktail obsession, how about taking the price down a few dozen notches. For the price of one martini here today I could hire the ghost of Joe Kennedy Sr. to deliver a truck load of hooch to my back door and shoot Al Capone in the skeleton dick.

Expounding on the Merits of Sub Par Books

I don't want to hear about the latest Dan Brown, Dan Simmons, Daniel Silva, etc. Why do these authors have first names that start with D? I guess they really don't because I lump Nora Roberts, Jodi Picoult and James Patterson in with them too. I know I'm a snob, and that's probably on the list too but please refrain from talking about how awesome the literary (and I hate to even use that term in regard to this crap) equivalent of The Bachelor is. It is complete garbage you should be embarrassed to read or talk about. Sure it might be somewhat entertaining, but do the right thing and hide it like everyone else does. This is a civilized place after all.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Recumbent Bicycles

Toot, Toot, asshole coming on your left, on your left.

Lady Gaga

Yeah, "Poker Face" is catchy as all fuck but it was catchier when Peaches did it 10 years ago you attention whore. Bitch ain't nothin' but a busted Jersey skank with a few funky beats. Like Blossom with an eating disorder. Um, would you mind not referencing your vadge and how influenced you are by Andy Warhol (!!!????!!!!) in every interview. Also, how about some pants?

Solving a Captcha

Look, I don't mind a little extra security in these dangerous times, what with identity-theft booming and ex-girlfriend-email-break-ins rampant, but, Jesus, I have to solve a puzzle now to prove I'm me? The SFPD had an easier time solving the Zodiac killer's ciphers than I do trying to make out whether that's an "h" or an "n". Wait, maybe if I put my nose right up to the screen. Ok, now squint really hard. Is "wbasha" a word? Is it supposed to be a word? Can the answer just be random letters? It looks like there's a space, is it, like, two words? Should I enter the space? Alright, I think I've got it, and >ENTER<. FUCK, that's not it. Fuck my ass. If it's going to be this goddam hard, I would prefer some kind of lengthy mathematical equation. At least I'd know there's a definite answer. How about one of those "magic eye" pictures? Oh, it's an elephant, I see it! Can I check my fucking email now, please?

Forcing Your Buddy to Do a Shot

"Come on, dude! It's my birthday or some retard occasion. Come on! Seriously, man. Just do one. We're all doing one here. Hey. Hey, Tommmy, get him a shot. Yeah, one more over here please. Do it! Do it! Do it! WOOOOOH. We're getting hammid tonight, kid! Haha, you're gonna be sooo shitcanned for work tomorrow. You driving kid? Fack it. Just do it ya pussy. Here, get me another one."

Look friend, I'm grateful that this little impromptu bonding ritual means enough to you to forecfully include me in it against my will. What else are friends for if not for peer pressuring eachother into doing shit they don't want to (get married, buy a house, have kids, watch their shitty band etc...). But what part of making a grown man sick or wasted beyond his regular drinking capacity is it that appeals to you? You're going to forget whether or not I did it .5 seconds after I do anyway. I know it was funny that one time when Jeff passed out and we put funny stuff on his head, but that was like over a decade ago now. You're a lawyer for fuck's sake. Should I just throw this shit over my shoulder to get you to shut up?

Fine, fuck it. Gimme the shot, I aint a pussy like Jeff. He's not even drinking tonight!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Jamaica Plain

Talk to anyone who lives in Jamaica Plain and they will prattle on endlessly about how great it is to live in Jamaica Plain. There is a reason for this. It's because they want you to move there because it is the only way they will ever see anyone or do anything. Why? Because it is approximately four and half hours away from everything in the world.

Don't believe me? Try it, pal. Yeah, which way are you thinking about? All the way down Mass Ave. then down Washington St, and through the South End. Good luck. Oh, you thinking of taking the J-way? Have fun cutting through BU and Brookline and the little hospital city deal, be sure you get off Riverway and onto the J-way or you end up in West Roxbury. Better pack some spare gas tanks and check your Google map for Jiffy Lubes, you're gonna need an oil change halfway through.

It's all worth it though when you get there though, am I right? That one bar has a fireplace or whatever and that's pretty cool. Oh and that place that books your friend's band on a Tuesday. What else? Oh yeah, the original JP Licks(hey ice cream - that's on the list, right?) It's on the T though if you're car breaks down. Just jump on the old orange line. Insider's Tip: You might want to avoid eye contact until you get past Downtown Crossing unless you want to get your ass kicked. All in all, great place.

Computers, man.

They're good for a lot of things, but when shit goes wrong and they don't work? The terrible, helpless, washed-out unreality of those few days before it's fixed... I assume that's what missing a leg is like. The sense of injustice is overwhelming. The withdrawal swift and unrelenting.

Everything is different, but the same... things are more moderner than before... bigger, and yet smaller... it's computers... San Dimas High School football rules.

Red Bull

Yes, I drink Red Bull. I drink it like an Appalachian toddler with a dirt mustache and a tractor license. It's not so much that I like the taste, which I do -- who can't appreciate the idea of drinking robot piss then chasing it with shots of TheraFlu? And it's not so much that I want to be jacked up and jittery for the next 20 minutes. It's just that I'm the type of dude who really wants to crash 21 minutes from now in an anxious sugar rush withdrawal. Plus I'm working toward some of those floppy piano key teeth that you see on cartoon hobos. Short of injecting my incisors with meth, I can't think of a better way to achieve that goal. I'm what you might call proactive. I suppose I could just skip the gateway drug and move straight to windshield wiper fluid though. Come on, if they didn't want us to drink it why do they make it such a refreshing, "mountain chill" blue?

Pre-teens in Baby Strollers

What the fuck mom? I know you want to get your money's worth on that $1800 3 wheel independent suspension 4 wheel disc brake child transport system there but what sort of kid are you raising that can't walk on his own? I see that he's pretty well occupied in there with an iphone, 3 cheeseburgers, and a redbull but how is this child so tired that he can't move his legs? I know that just laying there served you well (hey it got you your little bundle of apathy there, a Toyota sequoia, and split level ranch in metro-west, etc) but at the rate your offspring is going there's a better chance he'll be valued for his meaty breasts and marbled loins than for any human ability.

Monday, June 15, 2009

Landmark Cinemas, Kendall Square

It is just amazing how many times you have to wait in line to get in or out of this place. The ticket line (or the line for people who purchesed tickets on the internet - weird one), The concession line, the line to get up the stairs, the line to have some fat Cantabridgian whore dressed in a burlap sack give you the stinkeye for being considerate, the line to get the parking validated, the line to pay for parking, the line of cars that you sit in for an hour waiting for the douche who forgot that it was a central pay facility and still refuses to pull over to the side. And you know what? Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was a total piece of shit.

The Massive Hairy Balls on Large Corporate Ad Campaigns

TDAmeritrade is dedicated to helping me along the path to financial independence. There's a new GM at work today. Saturn fucking cares dot com. Hey neighbor we're just like you! Let's work together and by that I mean please buy these products that I'm selling.

I realize I'm getting into where's my bailout territory here but I'm thinking maybe you should just cool it with the ads on TV for a bit. And by cool it I don't mean put more happy looking, well-dressed minorities picnicking or senior citizens breakdancing in your car ad. Nor do I mean have a child do a voiceover while cowboys save a trapped calf from a well in your mutual fund ad.

The Sanguine Big Picture of Recent Graduates

On a recent night out over a couple of bourbons with my better half I overheard an '09 college graduate cooking up the master plan for her future. "I totally want to live in Colorado and go hiking all the time and then I'm going to head on over to Olympia and volunteer for a few months, blah blah fucking blah."

I don't need to lay out the major arcana over here to prognosticate the odds of any of this happening. I mean, your propitious plans sound good on paper, Pollyanna but you're prolly gonna' marry some townie, have a couple of tadpoles and end up a girl scout leader that meets with the girls at the Cheesecake Factory for Mojitos (Mojitos, ON THE LIST).

Have fun paying off your student loans until you collect Social Security, sweetie.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Sports Betting

I dunno, these billionaire mathematicians and number crunching robots in Vegas are alright, but I just glanced at the sports page for five seconds and asked my buddy what his gut says about the spread, so I think we're good this time. Just got a good feeling going into this one. We are so due.

What a dumb hobby. Sure, a lot like drugs can make parties and general social interactions that last longer than 30 seconds reasonably tolerable, betting on a game gives you a reason to pay attention. Throw 50 beans on the line and all of a sudden a preseason cricket match between two countries you've never heard of has all the drama of watching your dad play against Bin Laden in the Superbowl.

I'm no expert here, but I'm pretty sure that with most drugs you buy if they don't work 8 times out of 10 you stop buying them, right? Unless you've got friends in from out of town or there's a party your girlfriend is making you go to in which case you take what you can get.

Anyway, FML and put me on the List. I'm getting out.

Although if anyone has a line on some easy money tomorrow shoot me a text. Let's get this ball rolling again!

Oh good, I was hoping to get your opinion on Twitter. I'm surprised you've even heard of it since you don't watch TV, know who Lindsay Lohan is, or "barely ever" check your Facebook.

Know what I don't get? Cribbage. So I don't play it, I don't talk about it, never even think about it.

Talking About How Little You Had to Eat Today

"I've been really good today. I only had, like, a bagel for breakfast. Then I had a little salad for lunch. Anyway, I'm famished, you know? Barely eaten all day. I am literally starving."

Sweet Lord of fire and pain, are we really talking about this? You got anything else? Isn't your fantasy baseball team doing well this year or something? What'd your cute little cat get up to today? Literally anything else would do the trick here. You have any totally weird dreams last night?

Incidentally, last I checked barely going over the regular daily allotted calorie intake for a tennis playing centaur doesn't exactly count as starving. I know it's tough going ten minutes without a face full of Cheezits and pepperoni, but unless there's a motherfucker with a machete outside your hut right now let's keep the use of the "s" word to a bare minimum ok?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Being like 36 and going shares on a beach house

Hey, thanks for thinking of me but I'm afraid that I'm gonna have to pass on the Vineyard/Hamptons/Shore house again for the 13th consecutive year. Yes it was totally awesome that one year and I can't believe Glenn has the Delorean back on the road, but I'm tied up pretty much all summer with work and doctor's appointments. No, no need to email me the address. If I get a free weekend I'll just throw on some whalepants, head for the ocean, and follow the sound of actual sharktooth necklaced and Lilly Pulitzer-clad grownups' dreams slowly dying. Actually, probably go ahead and email it.

NO SPOILERS!!!!1

My bad there buddy. I suppose you're right, Battlestar Galactica and Lost or whatever have only been out for a half a fucking decade. I guess I should have had a little more courtesy and respect for the obvlivious types who like their pop culture multiple years behind the curve. Lemme just head outside over there by the smokers and huddle in the corner in the rain with literally everyone else besides you so we don't spoil a minor plot point of a show you love so much you haven't even watched it yet. I can relate anyway. I'm just getting toward the end of the book of Luke in the New Testament here, and I have a feeling this crucifixion scene is gonna have some awesome plot twists. Two words: time travel.

The Word 'Moonbat'

If you've ever used this word to describe another person, do me a favor: go down to the basement; put a sharp knife in a vice; headbut repeatedly. (A little harder there Howie).

Thursday, June 11, 2009

ESPN

Probably well past time to put this place on the list. NASCAR updates and what not all the time, occasional indy car clips, agonizing highlights of baseball games no one gives a shit about. Hang on, just want to catch these Senators - Marlins highlights before I go to work. People in those respective cities honestly don't give a shit about that game. All the dudes on sportscenter, the whole thing really. Oh and that show where those two retards do point-counterpoint. Am I wrong here? I guess the promos are pretty good, so there's that. Oh also, some douche named his kid Espin, so fit that in there somewhere too. Picture that kid going through school and whatnot. Hi little girl, what's your name? Espin. Sorry to hear your dad was a fucking turd. Anyway, you get an F.

Politicians!

Ahem ... so, politicians, am I right?? They say one thing, and then, ironically but not entirely unexpectedly, end up doing another!! ... (tap, tap) ... Is this thing on?

But seriously folks, I just wanted an excuse to post this photo, in which three of the most powerful men in the world manage to come off like they just got done raiding the minibar at a Lehman Bros. corporate weekend or something. Berlusconi, well, based on the news lately this would actually appear to be one of his more somber moments; Medvedev is actually the fat kid from Goonies (look it up) so he is also exempt, I suppose. But Mr. Obama ... for shame.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Following Box Office Numbers

Why do you know this pointless trivia? Even worse, why would you talk about it? No one does this for any other type of product.

"You know, I was thinking about purchasing a roll of Charmin toilet paper to wipe my ass with, but I read they only did like $9.1m in sales this week, much less than they were expecting. And after all the marketing and ad buys Proctor and Gamble did this quarter! Then again this is traditionally a bad three day holiday weekend for taking shits across the country, so that might explain the numbers. I might just go ahead and wait to see what the overseas receipts look like before I decide."

What is your job title again? Executive Producer? No. No it is not. You're not even a best boy grip. (Is that a thing?) You're a dude who watched a few episodes of Entourage (and this is almost sort of redundant) who has nothing else to talk about.

Lil Wayne

Just so everyone knows, Dwayne Carter Jr. was never, at any point, ever, the greatest rapper alive. He was never even the greatest syrup addicted rapper alive. (That honor goes to the late Pimp C.)

He is not the greatest anything. Disagree? You probably also think girls don't shit or fart. Also, you are white. And there is a good chance that you work for Rolling Stone or Blender (R.I.P.).

Quantity is not quality. That's why the phrase was invented, Weezy, so people like you wouldn't spew out inaudible mix tapes every hour of every day in between getting blown by Supahead, interviewing with Katie Couric and riding around on a segway with T-Pain while sipping lean out of a Styrofoam cup the whole time.

None of that qualifies you as one of the hip-hop greats. It actually just makes you one of the reasons why I want to quit music journalism. Remember when you shot yourself accidentally at the age of 14? I wish you had aimed a bit higher. Like, at your face.

CVS*

Woh. I've seen lines of refugees at liberated POW camps move with more focus and sense of purpose than this shit show. Look, I'm just here to grab a fistful of Sudafed and baby wipes. Maybe a box of Triscuits. I gotta get back to work. I didn't ok a sixteen hour furlough with the boss, is it still cool if I roll through? What the fu... Is that Obi Wan Kenobi hiring a bounty hunter over by the pharmacy there? Who did the design concept sketches for this branch Guillermo del Toro? This is a nightmare.

Shit it's my turn and I forgot the damn CVS card in the car.

Hey, I'll be right back. Hold the line for me please.

* Or Duane Reade, Rite Aid, Anywhere else that sells cigarettes, condoms, medicine, Easter baskets and shampoo

Liberal Guilt

Oh my God. Wow. This is entirely expected. Okay. Um…

Well first I have to thank Darfur. Hearing celebrities talk about this really opened my mind. I’m still not entirely clear on what’s going on down there, but I definitely know that I could be doing more than not doing anything at all. I also need to thank the liberal media. Without reading a quarter of the articles in The New Yorker and The Economist, I would never be so well informed and indignant. Of course, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. Without laughing at your show when my friends do, it would be impossible to memorize and re-iterate your material at parties. As always, I need to thank any minority that is successful in the public sphere. I’m not supposed to thank Bono because liking Bono is not “cool,” but really he has done a lot for charity. To my gay, black, Jewish, physically and mentally disabled facebook friends… keep on keeping on, you know?

I’m forgetting so much. I would NOT like to thank my trust fund. Really? Do you know how awkward it is when my poor friends bring you up? It’s bad enough I don’t have any student loans. I’m forgetting myself. Ahem. Above all, I have to thank my similarly entitled wealthy liberal brethren. Without you guys, I could never live my lavish lifestyle that includes fleeting (yet crippling) moments of liberal guilt.

This one’s for you guys!

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