Archive for January, 2010

As usual, The Onion puts it best
January 31, 2010

Final Season Of ‘Lost’ Promises To Make Fans More Annoying Than Ever

I hate fanboys, and the ones for Lost are as bad as any Trekkie or Comic Book Guy.

Look, I like the show. I’ve watched since the beginning. But Jesus tapdancing Christ on a bicycle, please: chill the hell out and shut the fuck up.

It has long since reached the point where I would be ecstatic at the prospect of forgoing this final season, and thus be forever in the dark as to the mystery the smoke monster et all, simply because it would mean its noxious fans would never have any reason to detail their uninteresting theories, lavish their farcical overpraise, or just plain mention Lost to me at all ever, ever again.


I can’t *believe* I’m doing this
January 28, 2010

Just goes to show how much I really, really, really can not fucking stand Tim Tebow: I’m giving this Mike Celizic article my much-coveted personal seal of approval.

For those not in the know, Mike Celizic is an idiot. You remember all those times I’ve bitched about sportswriting? How its the province of the grossly ignorant and proudly uninformed? That’s Mike Celizic all over.

That being said, credit where it’s due: he nailed this one. CBS should be getting destroyed for this. Yes, lets put some brainwashed schmuck kid and his mom on TV so they can tell millions of people that pregnant women should ignore their doctors advice to abort when their pregnancy is putting them in a coma (note: this actually happened) because the magical guy on Sugarcandy Mountain will save them.

Of course, we don’t have to worry about the smart people, for whom the only thing this ad could ever convince them of is that abortion should be legal if only for the sole purpose of possibly eliminating overhyped Jesus freak dumbasses like Tim Tebow before they can grow to fruition and invade our TV screens. But, as Alexander the Great wrote in the Declaration of Independence decades ago, “most people are not smart, and so they must be protected for their own good from collegiate quarterbacks with a poor understanding of biology and even poorer throwing mechanics”.

Anyway, good job, Mike. You and your stupid hat got one right for a change.

But hey, blind clocks, broken squirrels, or something like that.

A few small, random thoughts
January 26, 2010

– the title Fantastic Mr. Fox actually undersells the movie

– a Jersey Shore spinoff should put them in redneckville somewhere and watch the fireworks. There is no conceivable way this would not be awesome.

– Orville Wright’s first flight probably went smoother than my nightmarish ride to Vegas

– Rex Ryan got served a big fat slice of humble pie on Sunday, probably the only thing he hasn’t been stuffing himself with all year

– James Cameron sets a new standard for sheer douchey arrogance every time he opens his mouth

– Keith Olbermann needs to start hitting the psychotropics/more and chill the fuck out

– I’d like to post more here except I ALREADY WRITE AROUND THE CLOCK

Highlights of a hundred
January 18, 2010

This is the one hundredth post in this blog’s long, storied, celebrated, trailblazing and well-chronicled history.

*applause pause*

I was going to do a retrospective listing my favorite things I’ve written, but as much fun and autofellatious as that sounds I’ve instead just selected only one to shine the spotlight on because I think it’s indicative of the theme I’ve got going here wherein I say something righteously right, probably via snark and possibly via run on sentence, only to watch in unsurprised horror as the world at large seemingly conspires to ensure that whatever I want to happen doesn’t and whatever I rip on finds success.

That post can be found here. It’s my pre-review of The Blind Side wherein I used my incomparable powers of observation to opine that the film was irredeemably stupid, laughably racist and that the only way it could possibly be enjoyed by anyone would be for them to be belligerently drunk.

Two months and $250 million in box office receipts later America has once again gone out of its way to give me its collective middle finger.

The only thing I can do is laugh.

And now to wrap this celebration up, here’s a horribly mean and hilarious joke:

How do you turn a fruit into a vegetable?

Hit him in the head with a bat.

G’night, everybody!

Now, I’m no fancy big city lawyer…
January 15, 2010

And I’m sure as hell not some mouth-breathing, bible-thumping, Limbaugh-loving, Leno-watching guy-who-won’t-let-some-Muslim/nigger-run-his-health-care-plan-and-also-secretly-likes-to-use-the-barrel-of-his-gun-to-simulate-anal-sex conservative, but thinking about it, how the fucking fuck is it constitutional to require people to buy health care from privately owned and operated companies?

We mandate that drivers purchase car insurance from such private companies, and of course that’s a pain the ass and everyone hates having to pay it, but at least there the argument is that it’s regulating a non-essential function; you don’t *have* to drive.

Health care is a bit different; you do, so far as we know, *have* to live. Hell, we even outlaw suicide because we’re so adamantly opposed to not living, thus providing the setup for many an unfunny joke.

And so, since we do *have* to live, to be healthy, what possible argument can be made that how we choose to go about ensuring that isn’t a private matter, to be left up to us as individuals? (Note: I will now throw around several legal terms and cases in order to a) make my point and b) appear as if I know what the hell I’m talking about).

The right to privacy is a nebulous one when it comes to our Constitution, but unless you’re an idiot or that fat guinea on the Supreme Court who likes to cite Jack Bauer in his rulings, you have to affirm that it’s there. There is no “right to privacy” explicitly laid out like there is a “right to bear arms” or a “right to free speech”, but it nonetheless lives in passages like the Third Amendment, which outlaws forced quartering of soldiers in our homes, or the Fourth, which bars unreasonable searches and seizures of property, or the Fifth, which says we can’t be compelled to give incriminating statements against ourselves, or the Ninth, which makes it very clear that just because a right isn’t explicitly written down doesn’t mean you don’t have it.

Further, cases like Lawrence v. Texas confirmed a right to fuck (non-commercially) however we please, Griswold v. Connecticut says we can put whatever we want between hole and appendage while exercising said fuckage rights (aka contraception), and of course, Roe v. Wade, which firmly established the right of bitches to have their unborn children killed and vacuumed out of their bodies.

The point of all this shameless legal name checking? That there’s very much an inalienable right to privacy, and that this has been confirmed over and over specifically through cases involving how we care for our bodies. And how do you reconcile all that with a proposed law that will force people to pay privately owned and operated companies to look after their health while not even offering a publicly owned and government run system to ensure competitive, affordable pricing?

Answer: you don’t.

Fuck this health care bill in the ass.


I don’t usually wish death on people
January 13, 2010

Not in writing anyway, but I do when they deserve it, and holy shit, can Pat Robertson just drop dead already?

So apparently Haitian people made a deal with the devil over a century ago to be free of one of the Napoleons and now His Evilness has come to collect in the form of an earthquake.

You know what? That makes perfect sense. In fact, how about this:

Dear Devil,

Yo, dawg, do me a solid? There’s this guy, Pat Robertson. Yeah, that closeted homosexual with crabs who’s always complaining and saying stupid shit. You know who I’m talking about.

Anyway, when you get a chance, kill him. Like, in the face. Hard.

In exchange for this small favor I am willing to offer you a box of Marshmallow Peeps , and maybe one of those new Droid things that I keep hearing about on TV.

Thank you for your consideration,


Roids, roids, roids (or: The Story that Wouldn’t Die)
January 12, 2010

Well, thank you, Mark McGwire. Just when it seemed this steroids nonsense had finally died down you come out of seclusion to give a teary eyed confession about your past use and once again foist this tired, boring and utterly impossible to evaluate issue upon us.

I’ve long since resigned myself to the gross double standard baseball is held to re: steroid use, wherein Congressional blowhards hold show trials every time someone scrawls on a bathroom wall that a superstar juiced up, meanwhile the entire fucking NFL sits there laughing as they shoot up in a giant circle jerk as everyone turns a blind eye. I chalk it up to baseball being regarded as a sacred American institution of sorts, and it’s a bullet in the chamber to use in the baseball vs. football argument (as much as I enjoy the latter, it’s just not a contest).

But anyway. One of the more trite, harumphing exhortations I often have to hear on television from old people who played baseball and nonetheless know nothing about it, or middle aged people who cover baseball and nonetheless know nothing about it, is that clearly roids are what made guys like McGwire and Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa able to put up the extraordinary home run totals that they did. And that this is clearly the case because “guys in their mid 30’s just don’t put up those kind of numbers!”.

Oh really?

Hank Aaron hit 47 home runs at the age of 37. It was the most he’d ever hit in a single season. He also had as many 40 homer seasons in his 30’s as he did in his 20’s.

Ted Williams hit 38 home runs at the age of 38. It was the second most he’d ever hit in a season.

Babe Ruth hit his record 60 home runs at age 32, only two years younger than McGwire was when he broke that record. Ruth also had almost twice as many 40 homer seasons while in his 30’s (7) as he’d had in his 20’s (4).

You might say, “But those are outliers, the exception to the rule. Those are some of the greatest power hitters ever”. Which is exactly the point: so was McGwire.

Argue all you want about roids and legitimacy and the Hall of Fame. I personally don’t care what a player puts in his body, but whatever. Just don’t be so damn simple-minded about it. Look shit up before you subject me to your pronouncements that players “DON’T HIT LIKE THAT IN THEIR MID 30’s”. Because, sometimes, they do.

Maybe it’s just me
January 3, 2010

But doesn’t it come off as just a *bit* whiny to pen passive-aggressive articles jockeying for your own Hall of Fame candidacy? Bert Blyleven belongs in Cooperstown, but I really doubt that being such an insufferable sad sack about it is the best way to go about lobbying for support.