Tuesday, May 31, 2005
9) Wisecracking, streetwise black comedian plays wisecracking, streetwise wild animal
8) Storyline allows Tom Cruise to maintain hetero smokescreen
7) Dorky British kid uses magic wand to do everything except get laid
6) Teaches us important life lessons via precocious children/anthropomorphic Volkswagens/flesh-eating zombies
5) Will Ferrell’s screaming butt cheeks
4) Gritty World War II epic makes us really appreciate the lack of mandatory military service
3) Features Oscar-winning, all-Scientologist cast
2) Remake magically transforms classic movie or TV show into shiny, expensive new turd
1) Puts the hour of stilted dialog, awkward romance, and bland characters before the kickass lightsaber battles
Friday, May 27, 2005
This one made me laugh precisely because it hits pretty close to home. For those of you who don't know, Snowflakes are children who were adopted frozen embryos. The General has a brilliant suggestion for promoting their adoption:
We can make them more attractive to good, conservative, Christian families by dressing them up in little NASCAR sportswear. Think about it. With the introduction of different styles for every driver, it could be bigger than Beanie Babies. Some families would adopt dozens of Embryo-Americans so that they could collect every jacket. Others might adopt twenty or thirty in the hope of getting a rare Dale Ernhardt Jr. truckers cap.
Embryo-Americans. Why do I sense a PAC coming on?
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
SAMMY (pulling at tie)
Jesus Christ, do I have to wear this fuckin’ thing? It’s a fuckin’ clip on, for the love ’a God.
ELIJAH (slightly whining)
Jonah, must we listen to this all afternoon. My ears—
JONAH (cutting him off)
...will be fine, Elijah. Remember, my brother at the FBI said if we would help hide Mr. Goombani until the trial, they would make a sizable donation to our church.
I mean, don’t you people know what fuckin’ silk is?
Just focus on handing out Watchtowers and spreading God’s word. Maybe we can touch Mr. Goombani with it.
Hey, either one of you fruitcakes touches me with anything, you’ll be seeing Jesus real fuckin’ quick.
They stop in front of a house.
Try and save a soul, Elijah.
Elijah walks up to the “door” and knocks. He holds out some literature and handouts, ready to convert a fresh soul. A YOUNG WOMAN comes to the door. She is talking on a cell phone, completely wrapped up in her conversation. Elijah waits for her to acknowledge him.
YOUNG WOMAN (looking over Elijah while talking into phone)
So I was like, “yeah you are,” and she was all, “nuh uh,” and I’m like, “yuh huh, big time.”
She pauses for a moment and smiles at Elijah. He smiles back and holds up the literature. She takes it from him.
Good afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your...
YOUNG WOMAN (still into phone)
I know, what a bitch!
She turns and closes the door without looking at the literature.
Aw, poor Eli, no one wants to read his Looney Toons freako religious crap.
Just stop, okay?
Mr. Goombani, maybe you don’t respect what we’re doing, but we have a very important job here. (To Elijah) Son, I know you tried. That’s the important thing in the eyes of God.
Good thing you people don’t work on commission.
JONAH (ignoring him)
Let’s try the next house. I’ll handle this one.
They walk to the next house. Jonah approaches the house and knocks. A MOUSY WOMAN answers the door, wearing glasses.
Oh, hello there, can I help you?
Good afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk about the good news of Jesus Christ.
Oh, really? You know, I go to church, but I don’t feel like I get anything out of it.
Ma’am, I am sorry to hear that. I’d like to share some things with you.
While Jonah is handing out literature, Sammy is making “kissie” faces, winking, and making other gestures at Elijah. Elijah keeps telling him under his breath to stop.
First, you can have our latest edition of The Watchtower...
Thank you very...
Sammy pulls Elijah into a hug.
Come on, Eli, give us a kiss. (He puckers up)
GODDAMNIT I SAID TO STOP!!!
My word, such language! I suggest you learn to practice what you preach!
She slams the door. Sammy laughs. Jonah marches toward Sammy, grabs him by the throat and starts to choke him. Sammy falls to his knees.
I’ve turned the other cheek, shown the patience of Job, and tried to do unto you as I would have done to me. But enough is enough, you blasphemous, profane, Philistine.
He thrusts a packet of literature into Sammy’s hands.
You’re going to go up to that house and get the person inside to take some literature...
Are you kidding?
Or I will let those mobsters know where you are...and what you’ve been doing.
Sammy looks panicked, running his hands over the tie. Jonah yanks Sammy to his feet and hands him a Bible and pamphlets.
This will never work.
Sammy slowly walks up to the next “house” and knocks. An ANNOYED MAN answers the door.
Hello, uh, sir, I was wondering if I could talk to you—
ANNOYED MAN (cutting him off)
Let me guess, Jehovah’s Witness? Let me make this clear for you. (Loud and slowly) I—AM—AN—ATHEIST! I don’t care what you nutjobs have to say. How can I take you seriously when you’re wearing a tie like this?
Annoyed Man flips Sammy’s tie in his face. Sammy grabs the man’s wrist and twists hard. Sammy starts to beat him with the Bible. Elijah moves forward to stop him, but Jonah puts a hand up.
Don’t believe in God, huh?
ANNOYED MAN (panicked)
Please don’t hurt me? Take my money! Just don’t kill me!
SAMMY (with fervor in his voice)
Scared to die and see how fucking empty your life is?
Well, I’m the Angel of Death, pal, and it’s judgment time!
ANNOYED MAN (balling)
Please, no! Give me a chance. I don’t really believe in atheism! I just say that because my friends think religion is silly.
Sammy stops beating him.
Do you wanna be saved? Do you!?
The man shakes his head yes.
Then you better get with the program. Now, you’re gonna read this literature. When you’re done, you better call us or I’ll be back to deliver God’s vengeance. Capice?
Sammy leaves the literature for the man. As he walks away, huffing and puffing, a light shines on his face and he begins to smile.
That was, that was...
I don’t know what...happened. I feel so...so...good! I mean, I’ve pistol-whipped lots of guys. But doing it with the Bible, and trying to get that guy to accept Jesus, it was...so fuckin’ holy.
You must be kidding me!
Oh, simmer down, Elijah. It worked with the Indians. Convert or else...I like it. Come on, Sammy, we got another block to clear. Here, let me get you the unabridged King James version.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
12) The Others are abandoned cast of Real World: Hawaii
10) French woman endangers everyone’s lives with her Armpits of Death
9) Big, growling monster is actually Hurley’s stomach
8) Hatch reveals secret source of island’s abundant cosmetics
7) Survivors attacked by feral Tom Hanks during intellectual property shitstorm
6) Sayid gets blamed for everything and transported to undisclosed location
5) Charlie saves everyone by destroying the One True Ring
4) Locke must fight to death with arch-enemy, Hobbes’s Leviathan
3) Everyone is rescued after secret video of Jack and Kate surfaces on the Internet
2) It was just another stupid Bob Newhart dream
1) After a bunch of flashbacks and running through the jungle, we still ain’t gonna know squat until next season
Friday, May 20, 2005
Al Franken spoke at the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, and told a good joke about Ms. Miller's file-whatever-bullshit-Ahmad-Chalabi-feeds-me coverage of Iraq's weapons capabilities:
Then [Al Franken] turned toward The New York Times table in the front of the room, where sat Judith Miller, best known these days for two things: her articles on weapons of mass destruction that didn't quite pan out and the possibility she will go to jail for not revealing sources in the Valerie Plame case. "Judy," Franken said, "maybe you can find some WMD in your cell."
Although sadly, Franken quickly tucked it between his legs and said, "Okay, I shouldn't have told that joke." Hell yeah you should have.
He should taken a cue from Friar's Roast Hall of Famer Jeffrey Ross and added, "Oh, and I wouldn't fuck her with Bea Arthur's dick."
Thursday, May 19, 2005
All right, listen up! Today I’m going to change you self-absorbed bitches into caring mothers who deserve the little bundles of joy that squirt out between your legs. That lesson is breastfeeding! Do any of you panty liners know why breastfeeding is so important?
Thunder Thighs raises her hand.
Private Thunder Thighs.
Ma'am, because it gives babies the nutrients they need, ma'am!
That’s right. And thanks to your love of Ding Dongs, chubby, you’ll have plenty of milk for your children.
Ma’am, thank you, ma’am!
What else? Private Buffy?
Ma’am, it creates a...(straining to remember) a chronological bond between the baby and the mommy, ma’am.
Goddammit, that’s “psychological bond,” blondie. Jesus, you better not homeschool your children.
Princess raises her hand.
What is it, Private Princess?
Ma’am, why can’t we just bottle feed, ma’am?
The Drill Sergeant becomes angry and gets in Princess’s face.
Private Princess! Why don’t you just stick a fucking funnel in your child’s mouth and pour rat poison into it? Is that what you want to do?
Ma’am, no ma’am.
The Drill Sergeant removes her hat and hits Princess over the head with it.
Then don’t feed your child a bottle full of Enfa-swill! (To all the privates) When I get through with you lousy, selfish, formula-feeding whores, your nipples may ache and your goddamned tits may sag to the ground, but you will be good mothers. Do you understand?
Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
Now if there are no more stupid questions, the first thing you have to do to breastfeed properly is know your breasts. So grab ‘em and raise ‘em up, ladies.
Thunder Thighs and Buffy grab their breasts. Princess hesitates. The drill sergeant gets back in Princess’s face.
Great Gloria Steinem, did I tell you to wait? Hoist those hooters now!
Princess grabs hers, obviously shaken up.
Now repeat after me: “These are my breasts...”
PRIVATES (together, but weakly)
These are my breasts.
Sound off like you’ve got a pair! “These are my breasts!”
PRIVATES (together, much louder)
These are my breasts!
There are many like them, but these ones are mine!
There are many like them, but these ones are mine!
Good. Now it’s time to check your breast milk. Get out your sample cups.
The privates take plastic cups out of their backpacks. They snap back to attention.
Present..left breast, huh!
They grab their left breasts.
Ready sample glass...Begin breastmilk delivery!
They squeeze milk into the cups.
(Exaggerated annunciation) Cease...breastmilk...delivery!
They stop squeezing. The Drill Sergeant goes to Thunder Thighs and drinks from the cup.
Mmmm, sweet and creamy. That’s like fresh buttermilk coming out of there. Excellent work, Private Thunder Thighs.
PVT. THUNDER THIGHS
Ma’am, I’m glad you found my breastmilk pleasing, ma’am!
The Drill Sergeant goes to Buffy and drinks, then spits.
What is that, blondie, skim milk? From now on, you are to follow Private Thunder Thighs and eat what she eats or you’ll be on tampon patrol for a month!
Ma’am, yes, ma’am!
The Drill Sergeant moves over to Princess. Princess looks visibly nervous. The Drill Sergeant looks down at the cup.
Private Princess, can you tell me why there is no milk in this cup?
Ma’am, I don’t know, ma’am.
You don’t know? You don’t know? What the fuck kind of answer is that?
PVT. PRINCESS (near tears)
Ma’am, I don’t know, ma’am.
You worthless maxi pad! I’ll get some milk out of you! Where’s your breastpump?
The Drill Sergeant dumps out Princess’s backpack. A bottle and a can of formula fall to the floor.
Oh my God! What the fuck is this?!
Ma’am, I can explain...
You don’t fucking deserve the milk juggs God gave you, so I’m taking them away!
The Drill Sergeant tries to twist Princess’s breasts. Princess screams in pain and loses it. She knocks the Drill Sergeant down, jumps on top of her, and shoves the bottle in her mouth.
Taste my selfish artificial whore’s milk, you goddamned nipple Nazi!
The Drill Sergeant collapses, choking on the bottle of milk. Pvt. Princess stands above her, heaving with rage.)
I will be a good mother! I WILL!!!
Pvt. Princess breaks down into tears and runs off the stage. Pvts. Buffy and Thunder Thighs watch as Princess leaves. Private Buffy looks at the Drill Sergeant.
The Sergeant was right, that stuff will kill you.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
The plan calls for all current welfare mothers to run on treadmills hooked up to electric generators. The President explained that the measure—dubbed “Welfare for Watts”—would help reduce dependence on foreign oil and dependence on government handouts.
“Instead of sitting on their couches, eating Doritos and pumping out illegitimate children, we’re going to make the poor useful,” said Bush.
Congressional Republicans immediately championed the proposal. “It’s a huge step forward for the poor,” said House Majority Leader Tom DeLay. “They will understand the meaning of an honest day’s work.”
Senate Majority Leader Dr. Bill Frist agreed. “It’s time for these welfare mothers to learn that you can’t rely on other people to take care of you,” the senator said, repeating comments written by one of his aides as he stepped into a waiting limousine.
Democrats immediately objected to the plan. “I do not believe the poor should be exploited so callously,” said Senator Ted Kennedy. “I tell them that when I visit their neighborhoods every election cycle.”
“The Democrats were all for it when Bill Clinton suggested proposed welfare reform,” countered DeLay. “President Bush’s plan is no different, except that the poor would be confined to a treadmill for eight hours a day.
“They also get to keep all the energy they can carry,” DeLay added.
Dr. Frist also pointed out another benefit of the program. “The poor suffer from obesity at alarming rates, yet lack the funds to join a health club. Problem solved.”
The welfare mother provision is just the first phase of the plan. If successful, it will be expanded to include the homeless, the ambulatory elderly, and illegal aliens during non-harvest seasons.
While supporters called the plan brave, wise, and the greatest idea since outsourcing, the modest President could not take all the credit. “Bruce Springsteen was my inspiration. I was listening to my iPad after a long day of hand-holding with Prince Saud, and I heard the Boss sing, ‘Tramps like us, baby we were born to run.’ And I thought, ‘You know, he’s onto something.’”
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
9) Taping down penis so it doesn’t show through Princess Leia costume
8) Debating whether to save time and flush $10 down the toilet now
7) Using Force on Ebert to move thumb upward
6) Getting ready to have self sealed in carbonite since life will now be complete
5) Building up immunity to wooden dialog and hammy acting by watching original Star Wars
4) Diverting Air Force One to nearest Loews multiplex
3) Making sure the ammo clip is full in case any cuddly teddy bears or jive-talking aliens appear on screen
2) Having “lightsaber duels” with other guys in line
1) Buying a buttload of wheelbarrows to carry all the cash back to Skywalker ranch
Friday, May 13, 2005
“Twenty-hours by plane to Johannesburg,” remarked one friend, who asked to remain anonymous, “and all he kept saying was ‘I’m Rick James, bitch!’ If it had been some cracker, I’d have choked his ass before we left U.S. airspace. Instead, I cried.”
James, the R&B singer who died of drug related causes in 2004, was portrayed by Chappelle in the show’s most famous—and most quoted—sketch. One nurse at the South African facility said, on background, that Chappelle arrived with his hair braided, demanding cocaine and an audience with the Mary Jane Girls.
One Hollywood medical professional is not surprised at the news.
“I’ve seen it before,” says Dr. Howard Fine, a Beverly Hills psychiatrist. “It’s a rare disorder called Phrasus signaturous bludgeonus—or ‘catchphrase syndrome.’”
The syndrome occurs after an artist or other public personality creates a word or phrase that catches the public fancy. In Mr. Chappelle’s case, his phrase, “I’m Rick James, bitch,” could routinely be heard around watercoolers, at supermarkets, and even at parish bingo games. “The more out-of-context the phrase is taken,” explains Dr. Fine, “the greater the potential for mental catastrophe. In this case, it was a time bomb waiting to explode.”
“This destructive overuse eventually takes its toll on the artist who created the phrase. Their pride in its popularity mixes with guilt over its overexposure, causing a deadly neurological tug-of-war.”
Dr. Fine notes that Chappelle’s case bears a striking resemblance to Billy Crystal’s in the 1980s. “He almost became a vegetable after, ‘You look marvelous.’” Catchphrase syndrome is also not limited to comedians. The members of the musical group Right Said Fred spent six months in a Swiss hospital after the “I’m Too Sexy” epidemic of 1992.
While friends and doctors remain quiet about Chappelle’s condition, Dr. Fine said chances for a full recovery are good if they can isolate the patient early. “If they can keep him away from TV, the Internet, and morning radio for at least two weeks, chances are the phrase will die out in that time. In this case, it's a good thing they acted so quickly. I've seen other stars leave catchphrase syndrome unchecked, and when that happens, it's hasta la vista, brain."
Thursday, May 12, 2005
G’Day, and welcome to a special edition of The Crocodile Hunter. As all of you know, I love animals. I love the way they feel, the way they smell, the way they brush up against you when you sleep...Er, but I also love rock and roll! And today, we have one of the greatest rock and rollers ever, the Prince of Darkness ’imself, Ozzy Osbourne and his family!
The Osbournes enter: Ozzy, Sharon, Jack, and Kelly. Ozzy shakes as he stumbles toward Steve. Jack and Kelly fight.
No, you fuck off!
Mom! Tell Jack that I said he has to fuck off first!
Buh...buh...buh...Both of you can fuck off. Shut your meatholes, or I’m going to feed you to the bloody hippos.
Ozzy, hippos don’t eat people.
Very good, Sharon. ’ippos are plant eaters, or ’erbivores.
Right, well, I’ll feed you two to the uh, to the uh, to the uh, whatever eats the fuckin’ hippos.
Don’t worry kids, today we’re going to look at some animals that seem dreadfully frightening, but are really ’armless.
Why’d you cut off their arms?
No, Ozzy, there ’armless. You know, can’t hurt you.
Because they don’t have any arms?
No, he means they’re not dangerous, you fizzled old twat.
Well why the fuck didn’t he say so?
Steve brings in a rhinoceros and pets the rhino’s head.
First, we have one of the truly magnificent creatures of nature, the rhinoceros. No other animal is so powerful, so attractive, so sexy. Look at its jublies!
Steve grabs the testicles of the animal to show the audience.
OZZY (whispering to Sharon)
Gotta watch these Aussies. They've all been in prison.
Now, here’s question for all of you. What’s a rhinoceros horn made of?
Good guess, Sharon, but incorrect.
Your mother already guessed that, Kelly.
But I wanted to guess it first!
Jack has his back turned to the camera and is making loud sniffing noises. He falls over.
Crikey! Is he okay?
SHARON (looking over)
Mmmm, no convulsions. He's just resting his eyes.
Um, okay then. Ozzy? Hazard a guess about what the rhino’s horn is made of?
Uh, uh, uh, cement?
All good guesses, but the correct answer is hair!
Ozzy touches Steve’s hair, then the rhino horn, then Steve’s hair again, then the rhino horn, then his own hair.
But how...but how...but...Sharon!
Steve's kidding dear, it's bone.
Trust me, Steve, it's bone.
I said bone!
No, dear, you said hair.
Oh, right. (pause) Fuck.
Steve leads the rhino away and returns with something concealed behind his back.
Now, for our next animal, what looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and lays eggs like a duck, but isn’t a duck?
A rubber duck?
Steve pulls out a platypus from behind his back. Ozzy leaps behind Sharon in horror.
Sharon! Sharon, it's come back for me!
Relax, Ozzy. This is a duck-billed platypus. This little guy is a mammal that lays eggs. He’s harmless. Here, see for yourself.
Ozzy takes the platypus and looks it in the face. He turns it around and looks at its behind. Then its face. Steve sneaks up behind him and speaks as if he's the platypus
Ozzy, you will worship me!
Ozzy screams and drops the platypus, raising his foot to crush it. Steve cries out in horror.
Sharon casually picks up the platypus just as Ozzy's foot comes down. Ozzy looks at the ground.
Sharon! Get the gun, it's turned invisible.
Sharon hands the animal to Steve, who is calming down.
That’s probably a little too much stimulation for him, Steve. Do you have an animal that doesn’t do much?
STEVE (breathing heavily)
Oi, that was close. Thought the little guy was a goner. Okay, this next one is from a group of animals that usually scare people to death, but he’s really cute as a button. Say hello to the Jamaican Fruit Bat.
Steve holds up a cute little bat.
This little guy's name is Marley, and he's...
Ozzy snatches Marley from Steve and bites its head off.
Yuck! (spits out the head) It doesn’t taste like bloody fruit!
Steve grabs the head and the torso from Ozzy.
Marley, oh my God, you...you...killed ’im!
Tastes more like chicken.
Steve cradles the bat and rocks back and forth with it. He is unable to continue, so Sharon turns to the camera.
Thanks for watching the Alligator Guy.
STEVE (to Ozzy)
Please join us again when my husband will not be eating any animals. (To Kelly) Be a dear and fetch your father’s rabies kit.
Special thanks to Eastern Iowa radio, where music stopped before the 90s ever began.
- You know what that intro keyboard symbolizes? The period in my life between getting wood and getting laid.
- Best rock name ever: Kiss guitarist Ace Frehley. Worst: Bon Jovi drummer Tico Torres
- I first heard this song while watching MTV at my grandfather’s house. He had cable, and we did not. In fact, everybody I knew back then didn’t have cable, but their grandparents did, and all they used it for was to watch regular TV. It was like they didn’t know there were any channels after 13. Meanwhile, we’d go visit, give them a hug, wait to see if they'd give us money, and then head straight from the living room to get revved up watching ZZ Top videos. I still remember the girls getting out of the car during “Legs”—that was they day I became a man.
- When you make a list of “most underrated rock guitarists in history,” you can safely leave Richie Sambora off that list.
- I didn’t like any 80s metal band that had a full-time keyboard player. You could use keyboards and still rock (like Ozzie’s “Mr. Crowley”). You could have somebody play keyboards and something else. But having a dedicated ivory tickler meant your band was for girls.
- Any guy that was a Bon Jovi fan was considered a pussy by other guys. It was like being a fan of Poison or Warrant. Bands like those were chick metal that you only put up with because girls would listen to them while you made out. You wouldn’t be caught dead cranking Bon Jovi outside of trying to stretch a single into a double in the back of the station wagon.
- Def Leppard were the exception to that rule. They could write the same pansy-ass power ballad as everybody else, but because they were English and their drummer had one arm, they were cool. That was Bon Jovi’s double curse—being from Jersey, and having a fully-limbed Tico Torres.
- I’ll bet I’ve just thought more about Tico Torres than the other members of Bon Jovi combined.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
9) Congress didn’t see the comedy gold in an anti-UN UN ambassador.
8) Those meddling kids.
7) Unable to fulfill duties after getting radiation sickness from nuclear option.
6) Mustache leapt from face and devoured Chuck Schumer’s soul.
5) Made the mistake of telling Pat Leahy to go fuck himself before assuming office.
4) Liberal media was totally biased in writing about time I hit pregnant State Dept. staffer with a brick.
3) Shouldn’t have answered abortion question in tongues.
2) As usual, because of the Jews.
1) Apparently, acting like a bullying, stubborn, unprofessional prick for most of your career does have consequences.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Speaking through a sign-language interpreter, Koko, the group’s spokes-ape, said, “After much deliberation and deferential sniffing of hindquarters, we believe the current model of human evolution must be revised, because some humans are less developed than we are.”
Citing the recent board of education dispute in Kansas City, Missouri—where a heated debate has been taking place over whether evolution may be taught in the classroom—Koko said, “As a ‘monkey,’ I am deemed unable to own property, vote, or drive a car outside of the circus ring. Yet even I can see that all the evidence points to speciation through a common ancestor. Do these humans not read Nature?
“It’s as if they are walking in the jungle,” Koko continued, “and they see a banana peel. Then a mile later, they find the banana, sans peel. And they say, ‘These two things have no relation, they must have been created separately by The Great Ape,’” Koko explained, baring her teeth and spitting. “I ask you: who is the real monkey?”
Unlike the humans attacking evolution, the primates do not deny the validity of the theory. They still believe that Homo sapiens evolved from a shared ancestor. However, a new radical theory suggests that the line also had an earlier split, developing into a cruder form of human, Homo fanaticus.
“We’re still searching for the fossil missing link,” said chimpanzee researcher Dr. Sassy Pants, leading a dig at a termite mound. “But a fairly convincing amount of circumstantial evidence suggests these humans evolved from a primitive line of chimps that went extinct due to hyper-masturbation.”
The theory holds that this species—Pan troglodytes wankus—became so focused on self-stimulation that basic behaviors, such as eating and grooming, were ignored. “They literally stimulated themselves out of existence,” explains Sassy Pants.
Consequently, as this line developed into Homo fanaticus, the early humans saw sexual gratification as a means of extinction, and created complex rules and regulations prohibiting sexual activity. “What better way to combat excessive masturbation than by suggesting you would go blind?” asks Sassy Pants. “It was crudely ingenious, and the species not only survived, but flourished, especially in North America.”
Regardless of the debate on evolution, Koko says she has found common ground with those humans who deny her as a close relative. “Many look at my opposable thumbs, my social grooming habits, or my trichromatic, stereoscopic eyes, and say, ‘There ain't no way I come from this here monkey.’ Well, I couldn’t agree more.”
Saturday, May 07, 2005
I know I’m going to hell. When I say that, I don’t mean it. It’s a mind trick, like when I was a growing up, and before Christmas, I would keep my fingers crossed for that perfect gift: a new bike, an Atari, a chance to get inside Mary Lou’s pants. I’d tell myself: I’m not going to get it, I’m not going to get it. That way, if I didn’t get the bike, or the Atari, or Mary Lou told me to keep it above the equator, I wouldn’t be disappointed. But the truth is, I would be even more disappointed, because I would really expect to not be disappointed, then surprised that I actually was disappointed. That’s like multiplying two negative numbers together to get a positive or dividing by zero or something. I don’t know, I was too busy thinking about Mary Lou’s pants in math class. But if I did get the gift, it was getting two at once, like Mary Lou and Sally Lee in a sandwich. So I hope, by thinking I’m going to hell, I’m going to get to go to heaven. I’ll be so happy, I’ll probably give St. Peter a tip for letting me in. But if I go to hell, it’ll make eternal punishment that much more of a bitch. Especially when Mary Lou’s there, jabbing me with a pitchfork below the equator.
I don’t think anyone’s actually going to heaven. Have you read the manual? Good luck being employee of the month with that thing. I can’t even stop stealing pens from work. Do I really have a chance with capital-H Him? The Bible is the Word of God. Doesn’t God know we’re idiots? He created us, He should. Why all the stories and parables and whatnot? Just make it a rulebook so we don’t get confused.
Take masturbation. Don’t do that, it’s a sin, they told me. Why? I asked. Because of what happened to Onan. Onan was a Hebrew, and back in the day, when your Hebrew brother died, you were not only supposed to marry your sister-in-law, but knock her up! You didn’t even have to go on Maury Povich for a paternity test. But Onan had seen one too many porn tapestries, and he decided to “spill his seed,” which is Bible talk for a money shot. So God smote him. That’s why you’re not supposed to stimulate yourself.
But this story always confused me. Did Onan get smited for spanking it, or for dropping the batter before he made it to the oven? It’s an important point, because every man that tells you he doesn’t masturbate is bearing some serious false witness. So why not spell it out? Thou shalt not yanketh thine crank. Maybe it was one of the five commandments that Moses dropped.
The New Testament doesn’t really clear up the matter, either. Jesus said if you’re hand is the problem, cut it off and throw it in the fire. Well, my hand isn’t really the problem, it’s more like the unaware accomplice, a dealer in a casino he doesn’t know is crooked. My mind is the brains behind the whole operation. If I’m going to follow Jesus’s order to the letter, I should cut open my head and throw my brain on the fire. But that’s suicide, and that’s wrong, too. So let’s back up. Say I decide to make the hand the fall guy. My body is also supposed to be temple. Isn’t slicing through my wrist and leaving a bloody stump like vandalizing a temple? That’s at least a fourth circle Inferno felony.
It’s not just the sex stuff that’s confusing. Take the whole business about the poor. It’s great that Jesus has got the poor’s back. Give everything you have to the poor. Bravo. However...if the rich give everything to the poor, doesn’t that make the rich poor and the poor rich? Do the poor get to keep the money? Or do they give it away to some other poor people? And how long do they get to keep it? Is it like a wealth time-share? You get the mansion this week, I get the cardboard box, then we switch. It’s like some eternal pyramid scheme. Then one day, some rich poor guy gives you all his stuff, and the next day the Second Coming shows up. Jesus is getting ready to kick all the rich people to the curb, and you’re talking to him like a teenager talking to a cop: I swear to your Dad, this isn’t mine. Somebody just gave this to me. It belongs to that guy on Fourth Street who’s always talking to you.
I think God is really just pulling our legs. If the Bible is the Word of God, and so much of the Bible contradicts itself, then those contradictions have to be deliberate. There’s a lot of really great material there—love thy brother, clothe the lepers, get your sister-in-law pregnant. But then there’s all this other stuff—don’t love your brother when he needs to be stoned, don’t feed a hungry person pork, don’t fantasize about sleeping with your sister-in-law. I wind up doing a half-assed job following the regulations and then worrying about doing a half-assed job and then I get a stinging pain in my stomach. The doctor tells me not to worry so much and I say I try not to worry but I worry about worrying. He says to get some exercise and then my head gets crushed on the treadmill.
When that happens, and I’m in heaven, I’m going to throw myself at God’s mercy: I’m sorry about Mary Lou, I’m sorry about the lepers, I’m sorry about my seed spilling more than the Exxon Valdez. God will give me his best wrathful look, open his mouth and say, Dude, you’re so punk’d!
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
General Rules of Thumb
Nuclear proliferation is bad. Bad bad bad bad. It is never, ever, ever allowed, especially in countries that don’t worship Jesus. Unless...
1) Those countries that don’t believe that Jesus was the Messiah also really don’t like Muslims.
2) Those countries do like Muslims (and in fact, one of their scientists gave nuclear secrets to Muslims), but their dictator general guy is making a half-assed attempt to help us blow up al-Queda.
If a country is about to get a nuclear weapon, they MUST be attacked pre-emptively, except when...
1) They don’t like Muslims, either.
2) They’re probably going to nuke some other country like India and leave us alone.
3) They don’t have anything useful to trade.
How can you tell a country DOES NOT have an active nuclear weapons program?
1) They keep saying they do have an active nuclear weapons program.
2) In fact, they keep dissing you about it, saying, “Yo, dog, we got enriched uranium in the hizouse!”
3) They leave a Cleveland Steamer on the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.
How can you tell when a country DOES have an active nuclear weapons program?
1) They deny it like a motherfucker.
2) A bunch of prancing European “inspectors” throw up their strudel-stained hands and say they can’t find anything.
3) Some guy whose cousin’s friend’s second cousin knows a scientist who says that they not only have an active weapons program, but have it concealed in a Slurpee machine.
The United States takes human rights violations around the world very seriously. When people are being oppressed and having their basic freedoms blocked, we will move with incredible haste to intervene anywhere, anytime...except:
1) In Africa
2) In Asia
3) In Latin America*
4) When approval numbers are already high.
5) When we don’t have any more reservists to keep in reserve because they’re reserved to keep us from drafting guys.
*Note: Latin American interventions are needed immediately for any of the following reasons: Communist government takes over, nationalist government takes over, our guy gets voted off the island, our guy gets driven into the sea, business interests get compromised, the security of second-rate med students get compromised.
The Five Stages of Building a Democracy After Toppling a Totalitarian Regime
(with helpful examples)
1. Denial and Isolation: Military hostilities have ended! Up yours, France! The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire, we don’t need no international peacekeepers....
2. Anger: Why are these assholes still shooting at us? Fuel up the jets!
3. Bargaining: If you’d hurry up and form a government, these insurgents will get so upset, they’ll lay down their weapons.
4. Depression: How are we going to form a native security force when they keep blowing up the recruits?
5. Acceptance: Well, you’ve got your ministers and your constitution, so that means everything’s all settled. We’ll see you in 10-15 years when we depose the next homicidal strongman.
Rules of engagement
When distinguishing good foreign and military policies from bad ones, they key isn’t what you do, but how you do it. The following will help you separate the heroes from Hezbollah:
Box cutters: Can’t be brought on airplanes.
Daisy cutters: May be dropped from airplanes.
Suicide bombings: Barbaric.
Cruise missiles: Surgical.
Civilian casualties (white): The work of monsters.
Civilian casualties (brown or darker): The price of freedom.
Holding a female soldier captive in a hospital:
Geneva Convention violation.
Hooking up a car battery to a ghost detainee’s nutsack:
Standard interrogation procedure.
Reporting on collateral damage: Like shooting a soldier in the head.
Giving journalists big erections by letting them ride in tanks: Telling it like it is.
Q: Can we support a country that supports terrorism, or at least looks the other way at terrorism?
A: Only if gas is over $2.00 a gallon.
Q: If Iraq didn’t have nuclear weapons, and North Korea did, why did we attack Iraq?
A: Because Saddam is an evil, genocidal dictator, and the U.S. doesn’t support evil, genocidal dictators. We support freedom, baby, yeah!
Q: But Kim Il-Jong is an evil dictator, so why—?
A: But is he an evil, genocidal dictator?
Q: Actually, he’s killed quite a few of his own—
A: I think I’ve answered that question quite clearly. Now does anyone have a real question about current American foreign policy?
Q: The war on terror is a global, transnational conflict, requiring an unprecedented amount of intelligence, military mobility, and international cooperation. Furthermore, radical Islam is a threat to all democratic countries that support freedom and civil liberties. Keeping this in mind, why was our government so ambivalent about getting cooperation from other countries, especially key allies who could have provided much needed assistance during the long and difficult rebuilding process?
A: Why do you hate freedom?
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
- In love with the sound of our own fingers.
- Hoping lack of fact-checking, accuracy, and objectivity will lead to gig on Fox.
- Not going to let a bunch of short-sighted, elitist agents and editors prevent the world from reading my unpublished novel.
- Gotta do something to get people to notice me instead of my skanky, drunk, twin sister, Jenna.
- Wanted to provide much needed context for pictures of my cat, Fluffy.
- Really wanted to show support for the brave, wise, firm President, but without changing out of pajamas.
- Obsessively documenting the myriad of pointless, uninteresting minutia in our lives makes them seem slightly less pointless and uninteresting.
- Because if enough of us write about the dangers of war, theocracy, environmental destruction, corporate exploitation, and the attack on our civil liberties, maybe, just maybe, the Democrats will gain a seat in the House.
- Good exercise for stretching tendons after masturbating.
- Someone once said we were funny and it really went to our head.
Monday, May 02, 2005
First, I know that, to an untrained eye, it seemed like I was “arguing” a lot of calls. But part of the game of baseball—and its sister sport, softball—is the banter between the umps and the players. It’s a tradition, akin to a comedy roast. On the surface, it seems highly aggressive, but between the words, there’s the warmth of a hug. So, really, I was kidding when I asked the ump if he had just fucked his mother because he was blinder than Oedipus.
I do realize that a lot of my yelling may have been misconstrued. I know yelling per se is not bad. It shows energy, enthusiasm, and a zest for the game. That energy is good when it’s positive energy. “Come on, team!” “Hit it out of here!” Even a loud, “Hey batter, batter!” That’s was the spirit of my comments like, “I’m coming after you, meat!” “Hit it to fattie!” and “Fuck you, 29!” I’ll try to be more clear next time.
As for that play at third base, I certainly have to accept some blame. I should have read the rules more closely and understood that metal cleats are a no-no. (Honestly, though, that was buried on page three, and they should have known that the more ambitious players would have metal cleats. But I digress.) And I didn’t really need to stretch that double into a triple, especially since we were up by 10 runs. I also made the miscalculation that, because the third baseman was a girl, she’d get scared and get out of the way when I came in feet first. It was a perfect storm, a freak accident, and something I'm sure won't happen again. And believe me, I was just as relieved as you were when the doctor said he could reset her shin.
Anyway, I’m going to be taking a time-out for a couple weeks, but I promise when we have our rematch, you’ll see the other side of Larry Bonds, the side that doesn’t charge the mound when he’s hit with a slow, underhanded pitch. After all, we all want the same thing out there—to have fun!