Sunday, November 29, 2009

The most magical time of year, and by magic, I mean sorcery

Time to bust out the black, green and red candles, don our dashikis and kufis, because that special time of year is growing near once again. It's that time of year when single people like myself are bitter, and drink a lot. It's a time when middle-aged women fist fight in the aisles of K-Mart at 5 in the morning, and that time of year when angsty kids bitch about commercialism while gladly being draped in materialism, because hey, it's a material world, and I am a material girl. It's a time of year when fat-ass douchebag car-dealers desperately and awkwardly cram Santa Claus into their commercials in a manner that stabs integrity and class in the throats with a cutlass.

Now, I have nothing against Christmas, it's just that everyone seems to hate it in some form or another, and it's become "cool" to be like "Scrooge" (A very unpleasant tax collector whose apathy and greed will cause the death of Tiny Tim; hates Christmas, because it's about "giving") and because I'm such an obstreperous internet rebel, I have to love Christmas in order to oppose everyone else. That's right, you Christmas-hating fucks: Instead of spraying graffiti reading "Santa Claus sucks" and "Santa Claus is a fag" and "Christmas sucks and is for fags" and "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer is a fag", you should go fuck yourself immediately.

On the downside, Christmas is about caring, which is something I rarely do, unless an Asian girl in a bikini comes to my door with two large bags, filled with large amounts of non-inflated American currency, and even then I might say "Who cares? I'm about to save Hyrule for the 100th time." then try to grab my drink, but the glass would just be out of reach, so I'd go "Ah, nevermind." and go back to my entrancing hot n64 action.

In other words, this is going to be the best Chanukah ever.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

True Genius

One bright beautiful sunny day, a group of comedy writers were sitting around in a break room. All of them longed to step out into the sun and tan for once in their lives, but they had reached an impasse; all eight of them had simultaneously succumbed to the talons of writer's block, and in this case, the block was made of steel and they were only equipped to chisel away at the cumbersome cube with coloured toothpicks and those tiny plastic swords that bartenders stick in their cocktails as a novelty to amuse the drunkards. Unfortunately, all of them refused to admit their muses had all committed hara kiri, because dammit, they wrote the 1st season of "Gays Men Go To A Farm And Are Terribly Confused and Out-Of-Place". The series was such a hit that it received blind praise from many talented ass-kissers, and was placed in a lovely prime-time viewing slot that competed with Extreme Makeover: Historical Landmark Edition, an iconoclastic demolition and reconstruction program where all of our most memorable and recognizable historical structures are destroyed and replaced, all for TV ratings.

After such success against a competitor that defiled our architectural heritage for shits and giggles, how can one admit "Gee, I don't know what's funny."? Exactly. Therefore, procrastination reigned, and they mostly chattered about their exaggerated sexual escapades and joked about people of other races. "Asians are such bad drivers." one of them would quip, and the others would giggle like a Japanese schoolgirl looking at a penis for the first time. In between bouts of recreational marijuana usage and flashing their testicles at each other during coffee breaks, the sheer boredom that resonated through the air like smog in New Jersey would cause the weaker ones to allow their minds to drift off and would have a random thought, which they were trained in Comedy Writer Boot Camp to write down, or else run the gauntlet, and the gauntlet involved porcupines.

These random thoughts were about as funny and random as a glass of root beer sitting on a counter, just going flat and getting warm. Nobody just looks at the root beer and goes "Boy Howdy, that's a hoot!" because it's not a hoot at all. Think about the root beer for a minute. Is it making you laugh? Is it?! But the writers heard each other's putridly horrible ideas for the show and performed intellectual fellatio on each other like they were getting paid for it. Oh wait a second. They are getting paid for it, which technically makes them prostitutes, but metaphorical prostitutes at best. Anyhow, one of them suggested "What if we make Karen talk to a chicken about her relationship problems?" and the other writers' jaws just dropped. "That's fucking genius, Mel... motherfucking genius."

Mel just grins and says "No no, you are."

"Hey, when Ryan and Harry go to the straight bar, let's do a bit where they discuss holes in underwear for like 5 minutes straight!"

"That's gold!"

"Just think: Ryan says 'Damn, there's a hole in my underwear.' and Harry goes 'I hate that." and then Ryan says 'I think holes in underwear should be against the law!' and Harry goes 'We should hold a rally!' and Ryan says 'Hold on, I'm going to Twitter this.' because Twitter is all the rage, and putting it in the show will make us not only hilarious azzzzzzzzzzzzzzz fuck, but also, hip."

"Stop. My head is going to explode. My dick head."

"Then when Glenn finds his father, he finds out he's Irish."

"And he could like, do a bunch of stereotypical Irish things!"

"Season 4 is going to kick ASS."

Et Cetera.

After smashing open a piƱata full of pathetic half-assed jokes and convincing each other that it's FUCKING GENIUS, the 4th Season of Gays Men Go To A Farm And Are Terribly Confused and Out-Of-Place airs and it's terrible, and I decide to talk to a friend about it. "That show is really bad." I mention. They take offense, like I just told them their religion was false, or favorite political party was anything less than saint-like with integrity, or worse yet, I told them that their favored genre of music is what Satan's imps use to torture the souls of the damned in Hell. "You have to get the inside jokes." they retort, and add "You have to be a fan of Mel and Tim's early work to get most of these, too."

"I don't want to watch Mel and Tim's early work."

"Why are you being an asshole?"

"I'm trying to understand why people like this show. The humor is really lame."

"That's the joke though. It's supposed to be like that so you laugh at how lame the humor is."

"That sounds like an excuse to slack on the creativity and deliberately air an epic sardonic drought that purposefully sabotages itself in order to make a lot of money for basically throwing something together that a 4th-grader could scribble out in 15 minutes while waiting for his bagel bites to heat up in the toaster oven."

"Yeah... well... screw you! And bagel bites don't take that long to make."


Saturday, November 14, 2009

Lady Sovereign Is Not In This Music Video

Friendly disclaimer: I have never worried about causing brain damage to any readers of any of my blogs until today, whereas now this contingency must be considered. You will most like develop a hemorrhoid by viewing any of this.

Recently, a friend and I duked it out in the streets of downtown Tokyo, toppling skyscrapers and trampling Japanese people in our wake, all because of a slight disagreement we had about an old music video on Youtube that no one cares about, and never will.

Take note this video WILL cause you to rip your arm out of your socket and beat yourself to death with it if you attempt to watch the entire thing all the way through. Also take note that I rarely post videos anywhere, let alone rap videos, let alone one with girl rappers, let alone girl rappers from England. If humanly possible, enjoy:

About the video in question: my friend told me that the rapper Lady Sovereign appears in this video, whereas in fact, it is my firm belief that Lady Sovereign does NOT appear in this video, and I'd appreciate being vindicated by contacting Lady Sovereign and hearing straight from the whore's mouth (GET IT???!?!?!??) that she is noticeably absent in this music video because her body nor her soul were present at the time of the shooting because she was either too busy spitting on guys in jelly-donut costumes, or beating up transvestites in bars.

Lady Sovereign, I know you google yourself like 7 times per day, so you had better fucking email me.

Now, my friend believes the rapper "Jaydee" from the video is Lady Sovereign, and I declare this presumption to be erroneous for the following reasons:

1. Nowhere on Lady Sovereign's website, does it state anything about being known as "Jaydee" or being in the Grab The Mic music video, nor is this mentioned on her Wikipedia or Myspace pages.

2. No website hosting the music video suggests that Lady Sovereign is in the video.

3. Jaydee is tall, has squinty eyes and has several ear-rings, whereas Lady Sovereign is short, has wide round eyes, and does not wear ear-rings.

4. A good reason why Lady Sovereign would not be in the music video: Lady Sovereign's homegirl, Shystie, did a diss song against Grab That Mic's Lady Fury called "Murderation" (Yes, people talk like that in London) and that bad blood would cause Lady Fury to get a bloody vagina at the thought of letting an enemy rapper on the track without a stabbing incident.

Now, I understand that all wannabe gangster girls in tracksuits look the same, but that does not mean they are the same. I, being the super-sleuth that I am, have now conclusively concluded that the dyke-ish brunette in question has a 95% probability of NOT being Lady Sovereign, meaning that...

...well, it doesn't really mean anything. Fuck it.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Andy Rooney Speaks, Knaves.

Listen. When Andy Rooney asks you for your firstborn child, you don't give him shit about the legality of the matter; you hand over the child and also the family dog. Have you ever seen Andy Rooney take shit? He's not going to take shit from Ali G, ergo, he's not going to take shit from you. Therefore, if Andy Rooney decides that we should replace Veteran's Day with a day protesting "war in general", save your inexcogitative, insipid, intellectually-impecunious bullshit for the Judge and Jury, you uneducated asshat.

His amazing, shining article can, of course, be found here in THIS LINK where you can read it and agree with Andy Rooney, or suck his wrinkly flaccid dick.

Ostensibly, society is filled with phonies, and so it wasn't a shocker that the overwhelming consensus in the article's comments section is that Andy Rooney was wrong, like the idyllic heathens they are. When Andy Rooney throws down his wisdom from his shining golden clouds of transcendence, it is paramount to shut the fuck up. However, Bob (Name changed to protect him from angry rioting crowds wielding pitchforks and torches) had this to say:

" I will never again watch you or 60 Minutes. Shame on you and the network! "

And to him, I say: You think Andy gives a shit? Go watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians instead, because that's more at your intellectual level. Bob2 said:

" No war, no lies, no cheats, no stealing, not in this world! Mr. Rooney, you have stepped over the line of good sense and decency! Please apologize to our veterans. I know you are a smart man but this just makes you sound like a moron. "

And to him, I say: Yeah, that's totally what Rooney was talking about; saying the troops are worthless pawns. Or maybe he was talking about having a day to think about abolishing war (Someone should make this a law) so we won't need to have veterans or dead friends, you moron. Bob3 says:

" This is not Heaven. This is life on Earth. The reality on Earth is that everything is not all unicorns and sunshine Mr. Rooney. "

To him I say: Fuck you.

In actuality, my favorite comment was by a poster fueled by pure righteous e-rage. Here is his brusquely effusive little comment (With the ridiculous generalizations highlighted in red, much like Jesus in the Bible, random nonsense in blue, and poor usage of quotes and parenthesis in green):

" The SAD THING about those like "Bob," "Bob," and all of the other gibbon-minded creatures who accuse Rooney of dishonor and cowardice is that most of them haven't the gumption or heart to have served in the military forces (they just like to complain, and join the bandwagon of beer-guzzling, fireworks-shooting "flagwavers" who think patriotism comes in the form of a cheapjack flag stuck on their utility vehicle). As for knuckleheads like "Bob," I'm betting THEY don't have a clue about the fact that "Veteran's Day" used to be properly called, "Armistice Day." If the gun-buying, fear-lapping simpletons in America can't "grok" Rooney's rightful call for a more peacefully named holiday, then they should at least agree to having "Veteran's Day" revert back to its rightful name (before flag-waving schemers in congress changed it in order easily manipulate the ill-educated). "

What this really comes down to is a lot of highly-opinionated people arguing about the name of a day because some senile old man typed up some overly-idealistic nonsense in a disheveled rambling manner, trying to pass it off as "commentary" on our fucking holidays, whereas most of us are just glad to get the day off and watch "Saving Private Ryan" or whatever Nazi-slaying flick happens to grace our television sets. To go off on an ad hominem tirade on "Gun-buying" flag-wavers (whom I assume are Republicans. And that's how you use parenthesis, not putting them at the end of sentences for no reason), really just diverts from the real story here, which is that people love to disagree over stupid shit like this, and that's why we have wars. The end.

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