Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
It's All About The Benjamins Baby...
Wait... ww-on do-ll-aar? WTF? Help! My money's missing two zeros!!
(click pic for hi-res)
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Drugged Up At The Dentist
One of my favorite lifetime experiences was getting my wisdom teeth removed as a high school senior. What? Yes. Really. It was the first -- and unfortunately last -- time I was on three drugs simultaneously. It was glorious.
I was given a Valium prior to the surgery, laughing gas to put me under, and Vicodin to ease the pain -- not that I felt anything whatsoever, aside from absolute ecstasy. The high was truly special. I was euphoric, yet thoroughly confused. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened to me, or why I had giant holes in the back of my mouth. And I fell up a flight of stairs, because walking one foot after another seemed like a cop out. Or maybe too complex.
Given my age at the time, I was able to deal with the whole thing in relative stride -- minus the upstairs tumble, at least. But I absolutely cannot imagine a 7-year-old having to deal with this. It must be like trying to grasp calculus, or Tyra Banks' jokes. I really don't know how I would've taken being that high as a first grader. Thankfully, this poor sap's father caught his experience on video...
No, young David, you won't feel like that forever... but someday, someday soon, you might wish you did.
I was given a Valium prior to the surgery, laughing gas to put me under, and Vicodin to ease the pain -- not that I felt anything whatsoever, aside from absolute ecstasy. The high was truly special. I was euphoric, yet thoroughly confused. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened to me, or why I had giant holes in the back of my mouth. And I fell up a flight of stairs, because walking one foot after another seemed like a cop out. Or maybe too complex.
Given my age at the time, I was able to deal with the whole thing in relative stride -- minus the upstairs tumble, at least. But I absolutely cannot imagine a 7-year-old having to deal with this. It must be like trying to grasp calculus, or Tyra Banks' jokes. I really don't know how I would've taken being that high as a first grader. Thankfully, this poor sap's father caught his experience on video...
No, young David, you won't feel like that forever... but someday, someday soon, you might wish you did.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Misunderestimated President
In a few short days President Bush will hoof it back to Crawford and revert to his true calling: semi-pro brush-clearer. For all intents and purposes, his would-be presidential legacy has been reduced to a steaming pile of elephant shit. All thanks to a floundering economy. Well, that and a few other minor hitches. Point is, Bush II will probably never be remembered as the trailblazing, war president; rather, he'll be known as the guy who didn't stop reading a children's book to a class of 1st graders when a gigantic plane flew into the WTC, and stood by idly as the housing market crumbled into an equally large heap of rubble. What I've just described, however, is merely a version of reality.
According to "The Bush Boom", authored by Gary Busey (could it really be anyone else?), everything is just fine. Bush didn't fuck the economy up; he fixed it! We're boomin'. We're on the up-and-up. We're... not totally and completely fucked, we're just thinning the economic herd. Now, admittedly, the book hasn't been getting the best reviews on Amazon. The bad reviews outnumber the good by a margin of 2-to-1. Silly union workers. However, there have been several glowing 5-star reviews, like this one:
“Finally! A book that proves the existence of an alternate universe. Obviously, a rip in the space/time continuum between this universe and the other universe where Bush is presiding over a 'boom economy opened up and this book fell through. Can there be ANY other explanation?”
See! Bush didn't -- wait, what? Ironclad proof of an alternate universe? I guess the legacy is back on track; it's only a matter of time before he tries to take credit for this one.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Casting Fo Paw
So I saw "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. Turns out, some genius in casting decided that a young, slender black man with the voice of a post-op choir boy would make a good King Triton. It was sort of like watching Mike Tyson threaten to eat Lenox Lewis' children for two hours. It should be terrifying, but that squeaky voice is just so damn hilarious. You see the dichotomy. Now, I'm sure this fellow is a fine actor, but we're talking about King Triton, here. This is Poseidon's son. He has a magic trident and lives in a giant, phallic castle made of coral (no matter what Snopes tries to tell you.) Granted, the whole "underwater penis castle" sounds a little off at first blush, but it's definitely badass compared to my one bedroom in Queens -- besides, who are you, Jerry Falwell? On top of all that, King T is a freakishly large man. (Or, "merman", as Derek Zoolander would probably point out.) Just look at him next to Ariel; his pinky is the size of her friggin' neck!But "Stage Triton" is different. He's dancing all over the place, singing falsetto like Mariah Carey in that video where she's on roller skates. (Come to think of it, Stage Triton is on roller skates.) I'm sure the aim is to give the illusion that he's underwater. But it's just embarrassing. I mean, the guy's supposed to bellow, not pleeay. (Yes, I just spelled that phonetically. Two reasons: first, I'm too lazy figure out how to make an accent over the "e"; and second, because I, unlike the hybrid-driving, cage-free-egg-eating borzwa, don't feel obligated to insert dumb, correctly spelled French words into every day conversation, just because it's sheek, or whatever. And if you think I should've figured out how to make an accent, instead of go on a mildly nationalist tirade, you can mange du merde et meurt.) In case you were wondering, there's no such thing as "too lazy to look up insults." And as you probably guessed already, there's absolutely no such thing as too lazy to insult the casting department of "The Little Mermaid" on Broadway. They had it coming.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Take It From An Eye Doctor
I was going to go to Med School but then I realized: YouTube is full of insightful, dedicated educators, peddling knowledge free of charge.
I don't know if you watched that whole video, but if you decided to sit through it out perverse curiosity like I did, you're probably thinking, "Wait a second, if all the mass in the universe can be collapsed into the size of a bowling ball, and we're all made of energy and vibrating strings, and a cell doesn't really have any mass, and the definition of disease is 'we have transformed our energy state' then... HOW THE FUCK DID THIS WOMAN GET A FUCKING DOCTORATE IN MOTHERFUCKING OPTOMETRY!!!??"
I don't know if you watched that whole video, but if you decided to sit through it out perverse curiosity like I did, you're probably thinking, "Wait a second, if all the mass in the universe can be collapsed into the size of a bowling ball, and we're all made of energy and vibrating strings, and a cell doesn't really have any mass, and the definition of disease is 'we have transformed our energy state' then... HOW THE FUCK DID THIS WOMAN GET A FUCKING DOCTORATE IN MOTHERFUCKING OPTOMETRY!!!??"
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Through The Wire
Page Six reports, for the first time... well... ever, probably, Ann Coulter has shut her mouth. Apparently, her jaw had to be wired shut after some sort of accident yesterday. Who knew blowing hot air was so dangerous?
In any event, she'll have to skip out on Thursday's all-American glut-fest, and spew her hateful bullshit via sign language, or something. Which is all well and good. Unless you hate the Jews, too, in which case, here are some classic Coulter moments to share with your friends and family this holiday season -- permitted that your friends and family are Neo-Nazis.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
You Know The Answering Machine Message You Just Left Is Absurd When...
It ends up on the internet.
1) Don headphones.
2) Behold: the funniest thing you'll hear today.
So... did he get the job... or?
1) Don headphones.
2) Behold: the funniest thing you'll hear today.
So... did he get the job... or?
Friday, November 14, 2008
A Series Of Unfortunate Events
Lemony Snicket ain’t got shit on me.
It all began earlier this afternoon, innocently enough, with a craving for Sabra hummus. Sabra hummus—in my opinion—is far and away the best on the market. If you haven’t tried it, you’ll have to take my word for it. If you have, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The trouble with Sabra is that it’s scantly available, even in Queens, where I live, and where it’s allegedly produced. Further, the best variety, Jalapeño, is only available in one supermarket—on 34th Ave. in Astoria, if you’re in the neighborhood.
Living only 7 blocks away, you’d think I wouldn’t have a problem taking the short 5-minute walk to purchase it. You’d be wrong. Instead, I routinely buy plain Sabra hummus around the corner, along with jalapeños, and make my own. Even though it’s more work. And more expensive.
I suppose, given my sloth, I deserve what happened next. Shortly after making the hummus, I noticed a slight, shall we say “twang” in my nose. Within a few minutes this twang became what I can only describe as, Satan and his minions setting fire to my nostrils.
Before too long, the pain was unbearable. I quickly googled my condition: “jalapeño in nose”, and hit “I’m feeling lucky”, even though I wasn’t. Not surprisingly, I arrived at the web’s premiere destination for horrible advice, bad puns, and wise-ass 14-year-olds: Yahoo! Answers. It’s usually the first result on Google when a question is posed that would never affect a respected, moderately-functioning member of society.
Here’s the question, word for word:
“OMG, HELP, I am on fire. Jalepeno juice? I cleaned a bunch of jalepenos, yes, I wore gloves. But some how it still got on my nose. My god, it burns like hell. Does anyone know how to stop the burning? OUCH I look like a drunk with a RED nose.” -Cheryl
Pretty spot on. I felt “Cheryl’s” pain, and sensed the amalgam of utter dread and anguish in her hurried words. The answers to the question were varied. Most were helpful. You can see for yourself, here. I began running down the list—completely at the whim of the Yahoo! Answers community—willing to try anything. This is never a good place to find yourself.
I ignored the guy who said to “put tomatoes or catsup” up there. First off, anyone who spells ketchup like that can’t be trusted. I also skipped over milk, for the time being, opting for vinegar. Maybe using balsamic threw it off, but it sure as hell didn’t work. I tried lemon juice next, soaking a Q-tip with lemon juice and swabbing the inside of my nostrils like a doctor testing for strep. No dice. Nose still on fire, I read the next piece of advice:
“I hear that sticking bread up your nose will stop the burning, but it may interfer with breathing...whatever
AND please do not pour milk down your nose! This is a case where the cure is worse than the disease! :-)”
“May interfer with breathing”? I figured doing the opposite of what this guy said was probably my best bet. So I started sucking milk with a straw, strait through my right nostril. If there’s such a thing as gargling milk with one’s nose, I think I achieved it today. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect. The nose-fire persisted.
Running out of options, I tried the last advice: soak a paper towel with water and sugar. “Fuck it,” I thought, as I jabbed a wad of saccharine tissue into my nostril. I hate to leave you hanging, but that’s pretty much where I stand as I write this. I figured I’d jot this whole mess down before I forgot the agony. The pain seems to be subsiding, as the sugar’s mostly dry, and seems to be forming a strange, inflexible shell around my nose and mouth. I’ll let you know how it goes. I'm not terribly hopeful.
It all began earlier this afternoon, innocently enough, with a craving for Sabra hummus. Sabra hummus—in my opinion—is far and away the best on the market. If you haven’t tried it, you’ll have to take my word for it. If you have, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The trouble with Sabra is that it’s scantly available, even in Queens, where I live, and where it’s allegedly produced. Further, the best variety, Jalapeño, is only available in one supermarket—on 34th Ave. in Astoria, if you’re in the neighborhood.
Living only 7 blocks away, you’d think I wouldn’t have a problem taking the short 5-minute walk to purchase it. You’d be wrong. Instead, I routinely buy plain Sabra hummus around the corner, along with jalapeños, and make my own. Even though it’s more work. And more expensive.I suppose, given my sloth, I deserve what happened next. Shortly after making the hummus, I noticed a slight, shall we say “twang” in my nose. Within a few minutes this twang became what I can only describe as, Satan and his minions setting fire to my nostrils.
Before too long, the pain was unbearable. I quickly googled my condition: “jalapeño in nose”, and hit “I’m feeling lucky”, even though I wasn’t. Not surprisingly, I arrived at the web’s premiere destination for horrible advice, bad puns, and wise-ass 14-year-olds: Yahoo! Answers. It’s usually the first result on Google when a question is posed that would never affect a respected, moderately-functioning member of society.
Here’s the question, word for word:
“OMG, HELP, I am on fire. Jalepeno juice? I cleaned a bunch of jalepenos, yes, I wore gloves. But some how it still got on my nose. My god, it burns like hell. Does anyone know how to stop the burning? OUCH I look like a drunk with a RED nose.” -Cheryl
Pretty spot on. I felt “Cheryl’s” pain, and sensed the amalgam of utter dread and anguish in her hurried words. The answers to the question were varied. Most were helpful. You can see for yourself, here. I began running down the list—completely at the whim of the Yahoo! Answers community—willing to try anything. This is never a good place to find yourself.
I ignored the guy who said to “put tomatoes or catsup” up there. First off, anyone who spells ketchup like that can’t be trusted. I also skipped over milk, for the time being, opting for vinegar. Maybe using balsamic threw it off, but it sure as hell didn’t work. I tried lemon juice next, soaking a Q-tip with lemon juice and swabbing the inside of my nostrils like a doctor testing for strep. No dice. Nose still on fire, I read the next piece of advice:
“I hear that sticking bread up your nose will stop the burning, but it may interfer with breathing...whatever
AND please do not pour milk down your nose! This is a case where the cure is worse than the disease! :-)”
“May interfer with breathing”? I figured doing the opposite of what this guy said was probably my best bet. So I started sucking milk with a straw, strait through my right nostril. If there’s such a thing as gargling milk with one’s nose, I think I achieved it today. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect. The nose-fire persisted.
Running out of options, I tried the last advice: soak a paper towel with water and sugar. “Fuck it,” I thought, as I jabbed a wad of saccharine tissue into my nostril. I hate to leave you hanging, but that’s pretty much where I stand as I write this. I figured I’d jot this whole mess down before I forgot the agony. The pain seems to be subsiding, as the sugar’s mostly dry, and seems to be forming a strange, inflexible shell around my nose and mouth. I’ll let you know how it goes. I'm not terribly hopeful.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
F The FCC
If Joe Scarborough's wife actually kills him over this, I promise I'll remove the post... maybe.
Whoops! So much for the seven second delay. I love how he had absolutely no idea what happened. The second he goes off camera he starts whispering, "I said 'F' right... Did they bleep it?"
Whoops! So much for the seven second delay. I love how he had absolutely no idea what happened. The second he goes off camera he starts whispering, "I said 'F' right... Did they bleep it?"
Monday, November 10, 2008
Help A Virgin
As up to ten of you may recall, when Greenpeace gave the public naming rights to one of its precious whales, this very website, and many others like it, tipped the scales to ensure it didn't get a lame name like Kaimana. And thanks to you, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, Mr. Splashy Pants is tooting his blowhole, surely the envy of lesser, lamer whales, with much more meaningful tribal names.
Now, I've come to you again. This time, not to name a whale, but to get some poor bastard laid. Naturally, a guy like me, with a heavily-trafficked weblog about nothing, doesn't have this sort of problem. But not all of us are so lucky. Some of us need to make "real" websites and attract 5 million unique visitors before our friends will screw us.
According to his site: "I made a bet with a friend of mine (my only friend who knows about this situation, and who is, by the way, very pretty): If I get 5 million unique hits for this website until New Year's eve, she's going to "help". It's exactly what you're thinking! If I can't do it, I'll have to do anything she wants for a whole month."
If you're asking "where's the site" or, "how can I help", congratulations, you have an irrational emotional need to help virgins. And you're very kind. But I assure you, anyone who understands both the psychology behind the "help a virgin" traffic-hording scheme, and the complex programing required to pull it off, will never get laid anyway. So, instead, check out the many, many "help a virgin" ripoffs, widely available by Googleing it.
Oh, fuck it. I cave. I know this is like throwing bread to pigeons, but help this fake virgin, if you must. Or this other one. Or this allegedly dying one. I'm sure they could use theass traffic.
Now, I've come to you again. This time, not to name a whale, but to get some poor bastard laid. Naturally, a guy like me, with a heavily-trafficked weblog about nothing, doesn't have this sort of problem. But not all of us are so lucky. Some of us need to make "real" websites and attract 5 million unique visitors before our friends will screw us.According to his site: "I made a bet with a friend of mine (my only friend who knows about this situation, and who is, by the way, very pretty): If I get 5 million unique hits for this website until New Year's eve, she's going to "help". It's exactly what you're thinking! If I can't do it, I'll have to do anything she wants for a whole month."
If you're asking "where's the site" or, "how can I help", congratulations, you have an irrational emotional need to help virgins. And you're very kind. But I assure you, anyone who understands both the psychology behind the "help a virgin" traffic-hording scheme, and the complex programing required to pull it off, will never get laid anyway. So, instead, check out the many, many "help a virgin" ripoffs, widely available by Googleing it.
Oh, fuck it. I cave. I know this is like throwing bread to pigeons, but help this fake virgin, if you must. Or this other one. Or this allegedly dying one. I'm sure they could use the
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
An Open Letter To Joe The Plumber
Dear Joe Wurzelwhateverthefuck,
As of tonight, Joe, your services are no longer required. Don't get me wrong, feel free to continue snaking all sorts of rank shit out of Ohio's plugged-up toilets and septic systems. The state's flatulent masses need you. Just don't start your own business, or write a book, or run for Congress, or record a crappy country western album, or sign on to anchor a show on Fox News alongside that creepy Sean Hannity guy, 'cause there's a new Redistributionist in Chief coming to Washington... and you, my friend, are shit outta luck.
Except for the 'shit' part, obviously. You'll never be shit outta shit. As a plumber, there will always be plenty of feces. But I don't need to tell you that.
But don't be sore, Joey P. Sure, it sucks to be you. And also, too, Palin. And McCain. And all those red states that Barack Obama doesn't think exist. But on the bright side, for the rest of us -- the overwhelming electoral majority of us -- it feels pretty damn good to say at last...
Barack Obama is President-Elect of the United States of America.
As of tonight, Joe, your services are no longer required. Don't get me wrong, feel free to continue snaking all sorts of rank shit out of Ohio's plugged-up toilets and septic systems. The state's flatulent masses need you. Just don't start your own business, or write a book, or run for Congress, or record a crappy country western album, or sign on to anchor a show on Fox News alongside that creepy Sean Hannity guy, 'cause there's a new Redistributionist in Chief coming to Washington... and you, my friend, are shit outta luck.
Except for the 'shit' part, obviously. You'll never be shit outta shit. As a plumber, there will always be plenty of feces. But I don't need to tell you that.
But don't be sore, Joey P. Sure, it sucks to be you. And also, too, Palin. And McCain. And all those red states that Barack Obama doesn't think exist. But on the bright side, for the rest of us -- the overwhelming electoral majority of us -- it feels pretty damn good to say at last...Barack Obama is President-Elect of the United States of America.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Good Christian Values
Sarah Palin talks a lot about two things—Real America and Christian values. Unfortunately, she has no conception of either. She acts as if Jesus would have loved America; like he would have come to fucking Wasilla on vacation.
Let me tell you something. If Jesus ever came to America, first he’d wonder why half of the people who say they love him so much watch Nascar all day, and have absolutely no clue what he actually taught. Then, he’d be like, “Fuck this place, I’m going to Canada.”
Sarah Palin and Jesus have about as much in common as that bear from the Snuggles fabric softener commercials has with Jeffery Dahmer. And I'll prove it...
In Matthew 5:40, Jesus said:
“And if any man will try to take away your coat, let him have your cloak also.”
In a Neiman Marcus department store, Sarah Palin said:
“Oooh, gosh, a Louis Vuitton coat? That’s nifty. Let me have the matching bag.”
In Luke 14:13, Jesus said:
“When you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.”
In a rally, Palin said:
“When you give tax cuts, also, too, make sure to give ‘em to Joe the Plumber, Bobby the Investment Banker, and Abdullah the Saudi Oil Baron, and you will be blessed, because they’ll fund your run for president in 2012!”
In Matthew 5:44, Jesus said:
“I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite-fully use you, and persecute you.”
In a TV interview, Sarah Palin said:
“I say unto that Hussein Obama guy, stop pallin’ around with terrorists all the time. Pretty lame. Plus, also, I don't want my kids—Trig, Track, Piper, Fork, Crispy and Zamboni—growing up with that one as their president."
As a side note, remember in the Bible where Jesus was all like, "love thy neighbor" and "do unto others" and stuff? I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean "fly around in a helicopter and shoot defenseless wolves with a high-powered rifle."
Let me tell you something. If Jesus ever came to America, first he’d wonder why half of the people who say they love him so much watch Nascar all day, and have absolutely no clue what he actually taught. Then, he’d be like, “Fuck this place, I’m going to Canada.”
Sarah Palin and Jesus have about as much in common as that bear from the Snuggles fabric softener commercials has with Jeffery Dahmer. And I'll prove it...
In Matthew 5:40, Jesus said:“And if any man will try to take away your coat, let him have your cloak also.”
In a Neiman Marcus department store, Sarah Palin said:
“Oooh, gosh, a Louis Vuitton coat? That’s nifty. Let me have the matching bag.”
In Luke 14:13, Jesus said:
“When you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you.”
In a rally, Palin said:
“When you give tax cuts, also, too, make sure to give ‘em to Joe the Plumber, Bobby the Investment Banker, and Abdullah the Saudi Oil Baron, and you will be blessed, because they’ll fund your run for president in 2012!”
In Matthew 5:44, Jesus said:
“I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite-fully use you, and persecute you.”
In a TV interview, Sarah Palin said:
“I say unto that Hussein Obama guy, stop pallin’ around with terrorists all the time. Pretty lame. Plus, also, I don't want my kids—Trig, Track, Piper, Fork, Crispy and Zamboni—growing up with that one as their president."
As a side note, remember in the Bible where Jesus was all like, "love thy neighbor" and "do unto others" and stuff? I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he didn't mean "fly around in a helicopter and shoot defenseless wolves with a high-powered rifle."
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
About Face
If you're going to say to your wife, "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt." You probably shouldn't plaster on the makeup like a trollop. You hypocrite.
In September alone, McCain paid Tifanie White, TV makeup artist for "So You Think You Can Dance" and "American Idol," a total of $8,672.50 to plaster makeup on his droopy, old kisser. And thank God. I can only image what he looks like without makeup...
Woof.
In September alone, McCain paid Tifanie White, TV makeup artist for "So You Think You Can Dance" and "American Idol," a total of $8,672.50 to plaster makeup on his droopy, old kisser. And thank God. I can only image what he looks like without makeup...Woof.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Guttural Reaction
When asked to detail his economic policy in last night's final debate, McCain said bluntly, "My friends, I know how to fix the economy, I have thirteen cars. I have eight homes. I swallow golden pills that make my... you know what? Just check this out." Then, McCain began to dry heave, muttering something about how it's harder to get the golden egg to come up, than down. As Obama turned to leave, Bob Schieffer pointed out, "You're not a goose, John," to which McCain quickly spouted, "You're damn right I'm not Goose, I'm Maverick."
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Ten F@$king Heads!!
You know the economy is about to explode when it takes ten people to explain the problem.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Palintology
Matt Damon is scared of Sarah Palin. And not because she reminds him of a pit bull. No, he's afraid that if John McCain wins the election, he'll die of old age as he's being sworn in, and the U.S. will be left in the hands of a woman who thinks dinosaurs roamed the earth alongside humans.
But just because Sarah Palin doesn't understand things like fossils, or the obvious genetic differences between dogs and hockey moms, does not mean she should be feared. In fact, to her credit, in the historical town of Bedrock, cavemen rode brontosauruses like horses. They had saddles and everything. So the jury's still out on that one... even though Sarah Palin probably doesn't know what a jury is, and definitely can't name a single Supreme Court case aside from Roe v. Wade.
You know what though? I can let all that slide. My real issue, honestly, is that Sarah Palin went to college for journalism, and claims to have perused "a vast variety of sources," but somehow, cannot name a single magazine or newspaper that she has ever read.
See it, and weep:
There you have it. Would-be journalist/could-be vice president, Sarah Palin, can't name a single newspaper. Luckily, I can name six newspapers, and I have a hunch which one she's been reading this whole time. It's called The Onion. Apparently, "America's Finest News Source."
All I have to say is, good luck with the debate. And by "the debate", of course, I mean good luck pronouncing "Mahmoud Ahmadinejad" on live television. It's way harder than "The Onion."
But just because Sarah Palin doesn't understand things like fossils, or the obvious genetic differences between dogs and hockey moms, does not mean she should be feared. In fact, to her credit, in the historical town of Bedrock, cavemen rode brontosauruses like horses. They had saddles and everything. So the jury's still out on that one... even though Sarah Palin probably doesn't know what a jury is, and definitely can't name a single Supreme Court case aside from Roe v. Wade.
You know what though? I can let all that slide. My real issue, honestly, is that Sarah Palin went to college for journalism, and claims to have perused "a vast variety of sources," but somehow, cannot name a single magazine or newspaper that she has ever read.
See it, and weep:
There you have it. Would-be journalist/could-be vice president, Sarah Palin, can't name a single newspaper. Luckily, I can name six newspapers, and I have a hunch which one she's been reading this whole time. It's called The Onion. Apparently, "America's Finest News Source."
All I have to say is, good luck with the debate. And by "the debate", of course, I mean good luck pronouncing "Mahmoud Ahmadinejad" on live television. It's way harder than "The Onion."
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Down The Tubes
I don't know about you, but I've decided to address the looming economic crisis by going liquid -- AIG style. I'm selling all my shit on Craig's List. It's not so much out of concern, or even any real grasp of the economic crisis; it's that I'm moving, it's too late to rent a UHaul, and none of this crap is going to fit into a taxi.
Now a solid two days into the experiment, I've drawn one conclusion: you can sell anything on Craig's List. And if you can't sell it, someone's got something to offer you in trade. It's 2008 and we're back on the barter system. One guy offered me a handful of wampum -- WAMPUM!! -- for my classical guitar. Believe me, you can sell anything. To prove it, I tried to sell the toilet from my rented apartment in the "general sales" section.
The thing is... it worked. In all honesty, within minutes of posting my landlord's old, literally shit-ridden toilet on Craig's List (as a fish tank, no less) this is the actual response I got:
(click to enlarge) 
And that's when I realized... there is no economic crisis. If we get low on cash, we can always just sell everything we own on Craig's List. It doesn't sound all that presidential, but let's be real: Craig's List could be the cure-all for our global economic woes.
Take it from Bedi (or John McCain, for that matter) there really is no limit to American ingenuity. If it looks like a toilet, smells like a toilet, and flushes like a toilet --but you want a fish tank -- then it's a fucking fish tank. Especially if the seller puts "fish tank" in the title of the ad.
This ain't ebay, bitches.
Now a solid two days into the experiment, I've drawn one conclusion: you can sell anything on Craig's List. And if you can't sell it, someone's got something to offer you in trade. It's 2008 and we're back on the barter system. One guy offered me a handful of wampum -- WAMPUM!! -- for my classical guitar. Believe me, you can sell anything. To prove it, I tried to sell the toilet from my rented apartment in the "general sales" section.
The thing is... it worked. In all honesty, within minutes of posting my landlord's old, literally shit-ridden toilet on Craig's List (as a fish tank, no less) this is the actual response I got:
And that's when I realized... there is no economic crisis. If we get low on cash, we can always just sell everything we own on Craig's List. It doesn't sound all that presidential, but let's be real: Craig's List could be the cure-all for our global economic woes.
Take it from Bedi (or John McCain, for that matter) there really is no limit to American ingenuity. If it looks like a toilet, smells like a toilet, and flushes like a toilet --but you want a fish tank -- then it's a fucking fish tank. Especially if the seller puts "fish tank" in the title of the ad.
This ain't ebay, bitches.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Slacker Update
If you're one of the 12 people who have been fervently checking this site for updates, rest assured, your efforts do not go unnoticed.
If you're the guy who found this site by searching for "fetal position alzheimer and sucking thumb video" please seek help. You won't find it here.
So, what of the absence? I've been hard at work writing a TV spec script for NBC's "The Office". No, you won't see it air. But you can read it -- and I'd be happy to send it along. If you're interested, just shoot me an email, or leave a comment with your email address.
Stupidity will abound in the near (ish) future. I promise.
If you're the guy who found this site by searching for "fetal position alzheimer and sucking thumb video" please seek help. You won't find it here.
So, what of the absence? I've been hard at work writing a TV spec script for NBC's "The Office". No, you won't see it air. But you can read it -- and I'd be happy to send it along. If you're interested, just shoot me an email, or leave a comment with your email address.
Stupidity will abound in the near (ish) future. I promise.
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