When I approached Jesse about writing for his website, he was encouraging and yet apprehensive. He wrote, "I ask because there was some overlap between our sites (my friend Kevin does alot of political writing, as do I) and I'm not looking to turn the site into a mouthpiece for the liberal movement (moreso)..." This was reasonable of him. I swore that I would only rarely write about politics, preferring moreso to take a critical, Andy Rooney like view of our culture while boggling at its inanities and telling everybody about my own youth, when we wore onions on our belts...
That's what I told him anyways. But what can you do when a Supreme Court justice is rumored to be retiring and the immediate response from one conservative group is this:
"The current Supreme Court is a liberal, judicial activist court. ... If Obama holds to his campaign promise to appoint a Justice who rules based on her own 'deepest values' and what's in her own 'heart' - instead of what is in the Constitution and laws -- he will be the first American President who has made lawlessness an explicit standard for Supreme Court Justices."
At this point, the Republican Party's supportive organizations appear to be staffed entirely by 13-year-old boys, all promising to fuck the nation's brains out, and all finished after the second thrust. So here, briefly, is a tutorial for these activists when approaching the impending "fight" over Obama's Supreme Court nomination:
1. Start slow. Maybe kiss the neck a little bit, or perhaps the slightest nibble on the nation's ear? Wait! Stop...Stop! Put your pants back on! We are not there yet! We know you don't want to work with Obama, and so does everybody else, but ease us into it this time.
2. Hey there! Getting a little grabby? That's okay, as long as you're not grabbing too much or too hard right now. We're building up to something, see? We're tryin...what did I just say? I said not too much and not too hard! Do you want this to happen or don't you? Give us some vague qualifications that you would find acceptable in a Supreme Court justice, without naming names or particular issues.
3. Let's turn the lights down low, but not too low. We want to see what's going on. Maybe you can take me out of your clothes, and then I can take you out of yours. Will there be any stopping us if w...good lord, are you naked already? And you left your socks on? Jesus Christ, what am I to you? Float a few possible nominees, without touching on particular reasons that you're offering those names. Connect those names with the concepts from Step 2.
4. I just put fresh sheets on the bed, although if things are going to get as dirty as I hope they will, I might need to change them again. Come on over here and get on top of me. I'll turn Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" to set the moo...mrrgppghhghhhghhhgfffff! Get off of me! I can't breath. Why are you shoving my face in a goddamned pillow? What in the hell is wrong with you? Start contrasting your picks with the President's nominations, and do so based upon Step 2's concepts. Start also to introduce particular issues that might be pertinent to the nation.
5. Now this is hot! The music going, are hips are thrusting, our positions are coming together, now's the time when we can really get down to the sort of dirty, dir...did you just finish? Are you fucking serious, because God knows you're not seriously fucking! Do you have any fucking clue what you're doing? You idiot! You selfish, self-serving, egomaniacal, pathetic, morally bankrupt idiot. Here I am, trying to explain to you how to get exactly what you want out of this scenario, and do you listen?Do you even consider me? Get out of my house.
Of course, advice like this is only helpful for people that actually want to listen to it, and the only people who want to listen to it have enough humility to realize that they might not be as good as they'd imagined. When you lead off the nomination fight with desperate proclamations that our current Supreme Court is both liberal and activist, despite being staffed by Scalia, Thomas, Roberts, and Alito, then you're not even trying anymore. You're just leaving your socks on, shoving our faces in a pillow, and thrusting like hell for two seconds before you're done. And then we finish ourselves, and ignore you and your selfishness forever. Way to go Republican Party: you've officially accomplished exactly the opposite of whatever you were hoping to.
1. Does the message contained within these commercial - that your pubic hair is an out of control lawn that must be meticulously manicured with a special razor - actually resonate?
2. No, seriously, how close are you to purchasing one of these to begin your new career as a topiarist?
3. Circles? Hearts? Really? Who? Where?
I came home the other day and my LadyFriend was agog with the news of the first of these two commercials, having seen one air during an episode of Ellen. "I can't believe that aired!" she exclaimed, not in a tone to indicate she was necessarily opposed, but rather out of sheer shock. Then we found the second commercial online, and she laughed hysterically the entire time.
As a man, I am terribly confused. I have always imagined that societal expectations about hairlessness were a tolerated irritation amongst women, particularly in private. But according to this commercial, women have not only embraced what amounts essentially to hairlessness, but they do so with their friends, and in neat shapes too! Seriously.
HBO offers a channel called Comedy Plex, which is fine in the evenings, but trots out a never-ending collection of early 1980's comics during the day, all of whom have the following to say, "Men are like this, but women are like this!" Alternately, you get a comedian who mixes it up with, "Women are like this, but men are like this!" Somehow, this always gets guffaws, as the audience collectively acknowledges, "It's so true! We are different." I have spent my life staring blankly at the television, wondering who any of those people are.
Now, I'm 28 with two kids, and as a result of these commercials, I've now become a member of those audiences. Somebody shoot me before I start finding any of Judy Tenuta's work enjoyable.
You know what really grinds my gears? The next 30 days. And not just these specific next 30 days, but these thirty days every year. Personally these days cause me to be a slave to Rose. As the people whose Facebook relationship status reads either "In A Relationship", "Married", or "It's Complicated" (especially those retards) know tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day. Ah Valentine's Day, a day created by the law firm of Hallmark, Zales, & Whitman celebrating love -- well if one defines love as a man trying to appease his significant other but always falling short in the end. No man enjoys Valentine's Day. Some men may enjoy Valentine's Night, but the odds of not fucking up once the entire day and thus nullifying sexy playtime are slim to none. I'm sure rest of you just wind up in the bathroom at 1 AM rubbing one out to your 2009 Golden Girls wall calender like me. (I perfer the month of September because that's when Grandparents' Day is. What about you?)
But Valentine's Day is only the start for me. A few weeks later is Rose's and my anniversary, March 4th (right?). That's another day for "the both of us". More flowers, more cards...all things that you throw out in less than a week a cost a fortune. And you can forget all about sexy playtime then. I mean who hasn't gotten into a fight on your anniversary? But the "fun" doesn't stop there. Only 9 days later and it's Rose's birthday. At least this is one doesn't pretend to be for the both of us. It's her day and I accept that, so I'll do the dishes, take out the garbage, vacuum the apartment, get my own beer, chew my own food...you know, everything that she would normally do for me. It's just a lot to have to deal with next 30 days.
But you know next 30 days, there is something else that you do that I can't stand. Could you have a worse selection of sports? I mean seriously. You know it's bad when on a Sunday afternoon ESPN is showing bowling and women's college basketball. Have you seen SportsCenter recently? For the past week the lead stories have been A-Rod, Michael Phelps, and Brett Farve. None of these sports are even in season right now! They don't even show any highlights until halfway through the show, and it's not like I'm dying to see all of the top plays from the Okalhoma City Thunder vs. the Charlotte Bobcats. How am I supposed to unwind? Oh I know, let's hear about A-Rod for the 10 millionth time. This is all the coverage that they need to do:
"Do you think that this will affect how people view Alex Rodriguiez now Mr. Mackey?" "Well, uh, see, drugs are bad, m'kay. You shouldn't take drugs." "And what do you say about Michael Phelps and the picture of him allegedly smoking marijuana from a water pipe?" "Well, again, drugs are bad, m'kay. You shouldn't take drugs." "And finally, do you think that Brett Farve will stay retired this time or do you see him trying to come back with another team? Your thoughts." "Well, see, Brett Farve is old, m'kay. You shouldn't play football when you're old."
Period. End of story. That's all the coverage necessary. These wouldn't even be stories during football season. Michael Phelps could have done lines of cocaine off Caylee Anthony's rotting corpse and people would have just said, "Fuck that, tell me how many fantasy points Larry Fitzgerald got me on Sunday." Oh, I just get so angry at sports this time of year!
So the next 30 days, you here and all I can do is bitch and moan on my friend's blog. I hope you're happy. You bastard...you fucking win...you always fucking win!
You know what really grinds my gears? Pretty much everything about the game of football. Jesse has been making me watch alot of football lately, and I have to say... this game is pretty goddamn irritating. And no. It's not because I'm a girl. It's because
there are just some things are fucking stupid about the sport of football.
instance, somebody tell the quarterback that his job is not to get the football
and then stand there before getting tackled. His job is to throw the
football! Throw! The! Fucking! Football! Throw it! I even get mad when the
quarterback I'm supposed to be rooting against does this. I guess my
anger at somebody paid millions of dollars failing to do his job right exceeds
my caring over who wins some stupid games.
Speaking of not caring: I don't care who is "In The Hunt" for a playoff spot.
This is a stupid phrase. Nobody is hunting anything. Is
phrase even grammatically correct? Do you go "In The Hunt" for deer? No, you go
fucking hunting. And when you catch it, you kill it and eat it. And I
doubt the Dolphins or Cowboys are turning to cannibalism any time soon
(however, this method would ensure a spot in the playoffs).
But that phrase isn't even half as dumb as "Control Your Own Destiny."
Are they "In The Hunt" for a playoff spot, or are they questing for a
magical spear that can be used to destroy mankind? Stop trying to make your
sport sound like a fantasy novel read by pimply teenage boys or a made-for-TNT
And guess what: when I go into a business meeting with a client, I don't stand
up and introduce myself as "Suzi, graphic designer, Rensselaer Polytechnic
Institute." You know why? Because nobody cares what college I went to. (Well,
that and everyone would think I went to a 2-year tech college after earning my
GED.) But if I was a football player, apparently everybody has to know what
college I went to, because it is somehow relevant to what is happening on the
field. Hey, football player who introduced himself as attending the "U
Already Know" yesterday: no, I don't already know. And I don't care.
And finally--quarterbacks who can't be bothered to look up at the fucking play
clock before getting a delay of game penalty... What is your fucking deal? Or
perhaps you just need a refresher on simple math. That's just a penalty
that no one should get unless they want to get flogged in the middle of the
And don't even get me started on the name... Might as well call it soccer. The only time the foot is involved is when they fuck up, and they have to kick the ball to the other team. Hey, fuckupball. Now there is a name that makes sense.
You know what really grinds my gears? Things that claim to never end. Infinity is a scientific concept, not a reality. How dare you tell me that something will last forever or that things will never end. You are violating physics! Next thing I know you'll tell me that the earth was created in 7 days by some magical magician man. Now that's too much.
I'm talking about you Pizza Hut. I find it hard to believe that your PANormous Pizza never ends. IT NEVER ENDS!!! Are you for real [Interrobang] How can you make a claim like that [Interrobang] Watch this commercial (sorry about the bad quality...I'm too lazy to find something better). When Pizza Hut says that this pizza will never end it actually says on the screen that it is "over 40% bigger than our large pan pizza". When I'm watching the Golden Girls and the commercials come on and I finally lose my wood from all of the 60 year old sex talk and then I hear something like "pizza that never ends" that is literally a cock tease. How is this allowed [Interrobang] Grrrr.
And what do you think comes on after that Pizza Hut commercial. This commercial for diamonds. First of all bucko, love doesn't last forever. Just pick up this weeks US Weekly and look at the front cover saying that J-Lo and M-Ant (that's what I call him) are splits-ville. I mean when I think of love their relationship is the first thing that comes to mind. Second of all, I know that you are implying that a diamond is the second thing. I mean it certainly isn't that elderly couple. I think that guy is already dead. I'll give you that diamonds last a long time. But how is anything longer than time [Interrobang] THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!! God (Oh yeah...that's what they call that magician guy.) I want to slap someone [...come here Rose...]. I guarantee you that before time ends that diamond will end. So there De Beers...suck on that. You jerks.
And I know that there are probably more false advertisements out there, but lucky for them that they don't make Lifetime's Golden Girl demographic...but maybe they'll make Will & Grace's...hehe.
You know what really grinds my gears? When you get two highly paid professional tackle football commentators together, and they don't seem to know what the fuck they are talking about.
At a critical junction in yesterday's Giants-Eagles super football fantastic number-one throwdown, Eli Manning steps up in the pocket on third down near the 20 yard line and fires a pass to Kevin Boss for a critical first down at the 3. Uh-oh, I thought. He looked really close to the line of scrimmage. And, sure enough, the yellow flag was thrown. Illegal forward pass, five yard penalty, and loss of down. The Giants were going to have to settle for a field goal try.
You know what really grinds my gears? The French language. What's up with all of the unnecessary letters everywhere? It's fricken' annoying. I never know where to stop speaking syllables. I mean look at the title of this entry. Why is there a goddamn 'z'!? What does that do!?!?!? I'll tell ya...it fucks with Americans. I'm sure this is how this ridiculousness started:
Pierre: [in a sleazy French accent] Hey Philippe. Do you know how we can fuck with those silly Americans? Philippe: [in a sleazier French accent] No Pierre...please tell me how. [Philippe fixes his beret.] Pierre: Let's add a bunch of letters to the end of our words. Then they won't be able to pronounce them and we can laugh at them...hohoho. Philippe: Great idea. Now lets smoke cigarettes and masterbate to unshaven women.
I mean take a look at the French word for yes...'oui'. There is no 'w' and there is no 'e'...how can this word be pronounced 'we'! There's not even a consonant in that word! And please tell me how the letters 'eaux' combined to make an 'o' sound. What the fuck! There is a simpler way Frenchies. The worst part is that it's not just one consistent letter at the end of a word either. Examples:
coup d'etat - pronounced: coo de ta (fuck you 'p' and fuck you extra 't') faux pas - pronounced fo (as in: 'fo'shizzle my nizzle') pa (as in: Your ma and pa are rednecks.) la langue française suce des boules d'âne - pronounced 'the French language sucks donkey balls'
Now I know that there are a bunch of fat Spedo-wearing Parisian huggers out there that will say, "Hey Daytrader...don't make fun of the French language...it's a Romance language." What does that even mean? A Romance language. I don't see the French language inviting me over to its house for a candle-lit dinner followed by passionate love-making on a bed covered in rose petals; nor do I see it giving me a back rub while I watch a rerun of the Giants beating the Patriots in Super Bowl XLII in my boxers, because those are the only two things that register as romantic in my brain.
And to top it all off French language, you don't even call French fries 'French fries'. Instead you call them 'pommes frites'! Now you're just being assholes. Well thanks to terrorists (and with an assist from the South) French fries are a thing of the past, now we have Freedom Fries, and every letter is pronounced. So suck on that fuckeaux.
You know what really grinds my gears? Andy Samberg. What moron decided that you had any comic ability. On Saturday nights all I want to do is get drunk off of Long Island Iced Teas such that I can find the humor on SNL bearable. It usually works (Although every now and then there is something so un-funny that even my drunk ass can't break a smile, but that doesn't happen too often.) But then when the screen goes black and I see the words "An SNL Digital Short", I want to get a gun and blow my face off. (It is for this reason that I have cut back to 5 LIITs instead of my usual 8.) Andy, no amount of alcohol can convince me that you are funny.
Fans of yours (i.e. people with an IQ below 40) think that your style of "comedy" is akin to that of Adam Sandler. Listen, just because you're a Jew with the initials A.S. doesn't make you funny. Your first "movie" Hot Rod grossed approximately the same as Sandler's first film Billy Madison, which was released in 1995 back when the average price of a movie ticket was $4.35. In 2007 when your piece of crap film came out the ticket prices were on average 50% higher. I'm sure Hot Rod and all of your fine acting in Laser Cats (BTW there are sequels!) helped you snag the lead voice role in the animated blockbuster Space Chimps (yeah, I hadn't heard of it either).
So Mr. Samberg I ask you to stop subjecting me to this type of retarded comedy. Try something else. Why not try your act in the Middle East? I'm sure that you could show them how great life is in the Western World. If that doesn't work, I'm sure you can get a job with the Blue Collar Comedy Tour -- they're always looking for horrible comedians. Or better yet, why don't you sit down and watch one of your Digital Shorts after you've had 8 Long Island Iced Teas pumped into you. Don't worry, I'll make sure that the shotgun is within reach.