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 piñata 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."

fin

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.

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.

Jon and Kate Plus Hate

Let's get something straight. I don't hold people (in general) to very high standards. If someone says something like "French fries originated in France." or something equally mentally impecunious, normally, I'll just ignore it. My criteria for interjecting is when their stupidity affects me, i.e., "The bill for your order is 1,496 dollars.", when it's clearly 14.96 and someone didn't learn about decimal points in school, or was attempting to bust out some test-material for their soon-to-crash-and-fucking-burn stand-up comedy career.

I want to talk about something affects me very profoundly every waking moment of my life.

That's right, I'm talking of course about Jon and Kate Plus 8, minus the 8. I can't even begin to explain how Jon's zirconium ear studs affect me when I'm cooking pork bacon and eggs in the morning or am at the grocery store picking out lunch meats. I spend countless sleepless hours thinking to myself "Posh Spice hair? Really?" while musing about Kate's hair. I also was deeply amused by Nancy Grace predaceously tearing into Jon like an enraged Dilophosaurus sinking it's teeth into a Dimetrodon, bitches. I haven't seen a TV host beef with someone that hard since Keith Olbermann started obsessing over Rush Limbaugh like an OCD kid religiously rearranging their bathroom utensils every 1 hour. I would imagine Olbermann wakes up at night sweating from a bizarre nightmare and screaming "LIMMMBAUUUGHHHH!!!!" Then going into his bathroom, and looking at a picture of Limbaugh on his mirror (ala Apollo Creed versus Rocky) and muttering "I'm coming for you, Rush... I'm coming for you..." then popping a shitload of Xanax.

Special Note From The Author: Keith Olbermann probably does drugs. But not as many as Glenn Beck.

As far as I'm concerned, Jon should get a sex change, replacing his genitals with a vagina, because that would be more appropriate. I will even pay for up to half of the operation, and will definitely start a special charity fund to cover the rest. I'll tell people it's for "Breast Cancer Awareness", because as we all know, no one is fucking aware of breast cancer, and are just like furry forest creatures blissfully waltzing through the woods of life, humming delightful little melodies about gathering berries, about to step into the fucking bear trap that is motherfucking goddamn fucking breast cancer. I'd even get a big-name celebrity to endorse the charity, like Nancy Grace or Serena Williams, or fucking Optimus Prime.

Maybe *I* should knock up some poor, unsuspecting woman with 18 babies, who will all emerge at once, and will have their names tattooed on their foreheads, because face it: all babies look exactly alike. After reveling in corpulence, I will place the woman on a strict diet of jellybeans and rum (or whatever it is that makes you skinny. God only knows.) to quickly regain her aesthetic appeal, because no one wants to watch fat bitches on TV, unless they're a weepy middle-aged woman watching the Oxygen! channel. Then I will get a fucking show about how chaotic, hectic and nightmarishly overwhelming my life had become so I can make one million dollars. It'd be great.

Holy shit.

Where can I get this!?

Let's Compare Everything To Hitler!

Hey. Remember Hitler? Here is a picture of him:





















The other day, while eating a shark (It was an ironic turn of events), my mind wandered off, not unlike your MS-ridden Lithuanian Great Grandmother, and I was just bemused by how many things were like Hitler: George W Bush, Barack Obama, Environmentalists, School children, French school children, rabbits, et cetera.

I've decided to play a Kevin-Baconesque game, in which I figure out how various obscure things relate to Hitler, and not just any Hitler; I mean the Hitler.



Baked Beans: These cause gas, and Hitler did a lot of gassing, so Baked Beans are Hitler.

Crest Toothpaste: This is placed on toothbrushes, which are like Hitler's mustache, and therefore, Crest is like Hitler.

Michael Jackson: He wore military uniforms constantly, much like Hitler. His sexuality was also in question because he couldn't commit to a woman, and he seemed preoccupied with his career, but possibly also his delusional fantasies stemming from his experiences as a child. Also, much like Hitler, he had an abusive father. Coincidence? There are no coincidences, just watch Glenn Beck's show.

Suzy Orman: Her name has almost all the letters required to spell "nazi". Sounds like Hitler to me.

Volkswagon: German car company.

The Surface of Jupiter: This planet's surface is obvious Nazi territory, seeing as how the gravity is torturously crushing, much like a concentration camp, and the air is made of toxic gas.

Verizon Wireless: You know how their commercials say "America's Largest Wireless Network"? Obvious propaganda; calling their network superior to all networks, like a 'master network', and therefore dubs all other wireless networks as inferior. Sieg heil.

Natasha Bedingfield: I'll get back to you on this one when I figure something out.

Recognize The Loser Within!

Motivational Speakers are everywhere, in hotel conference rooms, in our water, in our schools corrupting our children, and on radio shows, telling us to purchase their books, tapes and t-shirts. The only way I would ever buy that shit is if I were on a plane where a disoriented albatross flew into one of the jet engines, causing it to spiral downwards into the jungles of Haiti, where, in order to escape the clutches of the cannibalistic tribesmen, I had to have a curse placed on me that would cause my arms to turn to evil, causing them to give my credit card number to Tony Robbins.

If there were a demotivational speaker, I would take that occupation, and make it my own. I would take the stage in that strange-smelling hotel conference room, walk up to the microphone, and commence the following monologue:

"A good friend of mine once told me 'Just give up. Everything you try is useless.' right before downing another 40 Oz. He died miserable and unfulfilled. That could be you! Whenever I do these seminars, I come with the belief that none of you can make it; that there is a loser in every one of you. All of you sycophantic, impossibly inept peons being herded like sheep to the slaughter, I have an uninspiring message that you will hear today, that hopefully, will drive you into habitual alcohol abuse and self-destruction."

I would then show a pie chart that show 0.01% of people being happy with life, and elaborate, quipping "These are your odds of success. Very bleak, I know, and rest assured, you will probably will fall into this red 99.99% area, no matter how smart you are, and no matter how hard you try to succeed. But just think -- you could fall into that 0.01% bracket, and that is where the seeds of human hope are planted, but today, I want to crush that glimmer of hope. Who here has been struck by lightning while finding a ten-dollar bill on the ground simultaneously? No one? None of you? No hands up? Well, that is called 'the Law of Statistics', which states that if the odds are against you, then what you're trying to achieve probably won't come true. Here are some actual stories of real people who tried to make it in life and indubitably failed!"

I would then roll video testimonials of defeated souls and crushed people lamenting their flagrant fall from grace. "So in conclusion," I would say, "Keep dreaming, because that's all you'll ever have."

I would then promptly get the hell out of there.