Basement Sex

You know who should really be teaching minors about sex? JCPenney.



Not a great commercial. But it would have made an excellent safe sex PSA. I imagined it saying something like, "Even if you don't get caught, you might get burned." And then some really depressing shit about how syphilis feels like a tiny dragon is living in your urethra. Instead, it resolved on a heartwarming tagline: "Every Day Matters." Which doesn't really have anything to do with 14-year-olds humping (but it's a whole lot safer than their old line "It's All Inside.") I'm counting triple entendre... at least.

My point is, the whole message is dubious. I don't remember JCPenney's clothes being particularly easy to get in and out of. Except for maybe those JNCO jeans, but that's 'cause you could fit your entire body in one of the pant legs. And the only similarity between having sex in your parent's basement and shopping at JCPenney -- so far as I can see -- is the fact that if you fuck on a musty couch for long enough, you're bound to get some pennies lodged between your ass cheeks. And then, theoretically, you could use your ass pennies to shop at JCPenney. Which is kind of nice, if you think about it. It sort of brings the whole campaign full circle.

Happy Heat Awareness Day!

According to the National Weather Service (which is never ever almost always wrong), today is Heat Awareness Day in New York City. I just checked the weather report; it's 71 degrees. That's warm, at best. Doesn't seem to warrant a holiday. I think 80 justifies heat awareness. Not 71. But I've decided to observe, despite the utter lack of heat to be aware of. Why? I figure if this whole global warming thing ever comes to fruition, Heat Awareness Day is going to be HUGE. Like Christmas. Or Law Day. And I want to look back and say I was there. I was part of the first Heat Awareness Day. It was legendary: 71 degrees, overcast, with a 40% chance of precipitation. But I'll make it sound way more bad ass. "I survived the heat wave," I'll explain to my grandchildren, as they look to me in wide-eyed wonderment. "It was so hot the clouds started to cry."

A Fist Terrorist Jab

The night Obama secured the Democratic nomination he gave his wife a celebratory fist pound. I assumed the gesture meant something along the lines of "we did it, honey." But I'm no expert. You know who is an expert? Good old Whitey McCluless at Fox News. She declared it a "terrorist fist jab", and all I can say is: Thank God someone's paying attention.


With Obama making all sorts of terrorist fist jabbing motions on live television, it sort of makes you long for the days of Al Gore sucking Tipper's face in front of everybody. Okay, maybe not "long for", but you get where I'm going. A little tongue never hurt anyone.

On a side note, Fox News has yet to mention President Bush's "terrorist chest bump" with the naval cadet at commencement. Maybe tomorrow.

Dehydrated Babies

When the Republican nominee for president says "dehydrated babies", you listen. Get ready for the most unusual six seconds of your life:



Will someone make this man leader of the free world already? I mean come on! The other candidate (Osama, is it?) hasn't even addressed this shit! Forget socialized medicine. The war. The impending recession. Get these dehydrated babies some goddamn bottled hot water. And it better not be lukewarm, or like, room temperature. Everyone knows thirsty babies only drink scalding water. Out of bottles.

Seriously, though. Alzheimer's is a serious issue. I shouldn't be making fun of a crazy old man. He needs support. And lots of pills. And probably some hot bottled water to wash them down.