Who Do I Have To Kill For A Job?

You know what I love? I love people who butcher the English language with complete ignorance. I love people who say a word that they think means a certain thing, but it’s not actually the right word…like, it’s usually off by a syllable or a vowel or an entire vocabulary. And I love it even more when those people have children and the children are the ones who are being taught this horrible speech pattern. Hereditary stupidity.

For instance, I was at the grocery store today, trying to find a reliable cleanser to remove a large amount of blood from the walls (and part of a ceiling) of my home, when I overheard this quaint conversation between a father and his young son:

DAD: Cole, did you felch one of daddy’s cookies?

BOY: No!

DAD: I dunno, Cole. I’m looking at what’s left in here and it looks like someone felched one of them.

Now, first of all, who the hell names their kid Cole? I thought that was just a name inherited by NASCAR drivers and country singers who wear leather jackets in an attempt to be edgy. Are there actual babies with this name?

Secondly, unless the kid is sucking cookies out of your ass, I’m pretty sure you meant to say FILCH. Next time, try something easier, Wordsworth…like PILFER.

But that’s not why I called you here today. No, the truth of the matter is that I’m irritated. I know that’s a stretch for me. I’m usually so centered and ambivalent. However, I witnessed something surprising last night and then I read about that something’s even more bizarre resolution this morning.

What am I talking about? House.

Do you watch the show? I don’t really care if you do or not, it’s rather beside the point. It’s not like we’re going to make some sudden connection over the finer points of medical weirdness and go skipping off together through the meadows. I guess I’ll have to give a recap of the relevant bits for those of you who aren’t so attuned to the universe and its intricacies.

See, House is about this curmudgeonly doctor who hates everyone and everything. He has a miraculous ability (demonstrated at the crescendo of every single freaking episode) to take these impossible-to-crack cases and suddenly solve them merely by someone saying something that clicks in his mind. He then stares off-camera, slightly down and to the right, for a few seconds and then everything is great again.

The show is insanely repetitive and follows the same general pattern of most weekly dramas: the dreaded “villain of the week” motif. I usually hate shows that are set up like this. It’s like listening to a string of one hit wonders that don’t even have a catchy chorus among them. The only reason I really watch this show is because Hugh Laurie (who holds the role of Dr. House) plays such an elegant dick. His character is an atrocious human being, but his verbal cuts and jabs are spot on.

Again, this is all beside the point. What I really want to tell you is that Kal Penn was a cast member on this show for the past two seasons. Kal Penn is a pretty good actor, playing mostly parts that have something to do with the fact that he’s Indian. He’s been in a bunch of stuff that, if you’re a regular reader of the blog, you’ve probably seen…two Van Wilder movies, a bit part in Superman Returns, Malibu’s Most Wanted, Son of the Mask, and three stoner-perfect turns as Kumar in the burnout classic Harold & Kumar series.

Well, it turns out that Mr. Kal Penn has given up acting to join the Obama administration. And I say more power to him. Sort of.

Look, I have to admit that I’m a bit jealous. I was a big Obama supporter. I’m currently unemployed. And I sent my resume into change.gov and never heard a peep back from them.

And I don’t want to take anything away from Mr. Penn. He’s the first truly successful Indian-American actor. He taught a few Cinema Studies classes at the University of Pennsylvania. And, let’s face it, he’s more famous than me (barely).

No, what really irks me is the fact that the writers of House had Penn’s character commit suicide last night as a way of writing him off the show. What kind of message does that send to our children?

“Hey kids, if you go to college with Ryan Reynolds, smoke a lot of dope and then kill yourself, you too can work for the federal government!”

So confusing for our young, impressionable minds.

Ahh…I’d make jokes about electing an actor president, but the country already lived that joke. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

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The Decider Decides To Write A Book About Decisions.

Wow.

Former President George W. Bush is writing a book about some of the important decisions he made during his years in office and his life leading up to those years. I, for one, am waiting on the edge of my seat to get inside this man’s head and discover the intricate thought process that allowed him to continue reading “My Pet Goat” during the most horrific terrorist attack in US history. I want to dive headfirst into all the strategery meetings about how to pronounce the word “nuclear.” And I really want to hear his insights on how God told him that it was cool to let his friends rape our economy and try to ruin our environment. I’m going to be first in line!

Because I’m such an avid reader and strong supporter of literacy, President Bush’s publisher has asked me to share this special excerpt from the forthcoming font of knowledge. Here, in W’s own words, are the careful planning and emotional reasoning that went into one of the toughest decisions of his entire presidency:

December 4, 2006 – Crawford, Texas

Do I want a turkey sandwich? Or do I want a peanut butter sandwich? Lemme see here, gotta have the wheat bread ’cause Laura says it’s good for my pooper. Hehe…I said poop. Turkey, turkey, turkey. That reminds me of that big book I read the other day. What was that called? Maybe if I hit my head on the table, real hard-like, I’ll remember it. Ouch! I’m seein’ birdies. Wait…Chicken Little! That’s it! Man, that book was funny. That dang bird runnin’ around all loosey goosey, tellin’ everyone that the sky was fallin’. Man, folks sure are gullible. Did anyone ever see a piece of the sky fall? Pfft…no. That there’s crazy talk. But hey, I guess if you say somethin’ enough, the commoners will start believin’ it.

What was I talkin’ about again? Head on desk…OW! Now I remember. Sandwiches. Sand and witches. Hehe. Sand Witches. Crazy Iraq bitches. My butt itches. I said butt. I’m funny, ’cause I’m an American. Real Americans are funny. Like that Cable Guy fella. He’s funny. Git ‘r done! That’s what I said on that aircraft carrier when I was dressed up like one a my GI Joe action figure toys. It was like Halloween, except without all the God-hatin’ ghosts and junk. I was a paratrooper. Pooper. Hehehehe. I’m hungry.

Y’know what sounds good right now? A turkey sandwich. Mmm…turkey. Jive turkey. ‘Member that part in that movie Airplane where those two colored fellas were talking all crazy? I used to tell everyone in my National Security meetings that they were talkin’ jive ’cause I had no idea what the heck they were babblin’ on about. Once Rummy started drawing me those funny pictures, then I was gettin’ it. That stuff is hard. Someone shoulda explainiated that to me better. I went to college. I can follow along. My mom says my handwriting is pretty good too if I have enough time to work on it. But that’s a whole other egg to crack. Eggs. Turkeys. Man, I wish I had some lunch.


I don’t think I should eat the turkey. Ever since I had to pardon that big bird on Thanksgiving, I’ve felt bad about eatin’ animals and stuff. It ain’t right. Poor little guy is just tryin’ to do his thing. Doesn’t want to have his little world invaded by us ugly Americans, always shootin’ at him and lockin’ him up in cages and tryin’ to torture him and all that. It just ain’t right. Someone should put a ban on it. Or lift a ban or lower a tax or somethin’.

What about peanut butter? That makes a good meal. It’s got protein. Gives you energy to fight the big fights. And it’s cheap too. With this crazy economy, you never know where you have to pinch yer pennies. I swear, that Bernanke dude is just makin’ up magic numbers to scare people into savin’ all their money. Who ever heard of a “billion?” That’s a dumb name. What’s that, like, eleventy zeros or somethin’? I’d like a billion sandwiches, please. Hehe. Let’s bury some billions in the sand and play Capture the Flag. This little billion went to market, this little billion stayed home, this little billion had roast beef…hey, roast beef sounds good. Pretty sure I saw a cow outside. Maybe he’d know where I can get some beef. Or some peanut butter.


Wait a minute. I can’t have no peanut butter. It always makes me all sticky and such. Can’t be all sticky if’n I’m fixin’ to play golf later. The clubs’d be all glued to my hands all the time. I might make a mess if I wipe my hands on my pants. I don’t want people to make fun of me for somethin’ like that while I’m on another vacation. I’m the President of the United States, not Tiger Woods. Tiger. Tony the Tiger. Maybe I’ll have some Frosted Flakes. I like Flakes. Somethin’ comforting about bein’ a flake. Is that the telephone ringin’?

Hello? Laura who? Oh! Hey there, Laura! What are you doin’ inside my phone? Lunchtime? I don’t know. I’m writin’ this here book thingy. What? What’s that? Sorry wife person, I can’t understand you with all the laughin’. Did you say corn dogs? Tater tots too? Did you cut ’em up? C’mon now, you know Dick don’t let me get near the knives anymore. Okay, I’ll be right there. Gotta sharpen my crayon…

87 Things That I Don’t Care About (with some links).

You ever have one of those days where nothing really interests you? A day when no matter how many magazines you read, conversations you have or websites you visit, you just can’t find anything that makes you emote in the least. This day is just a dull, bleak monotony with no end. Even sleep is boring to me right now. Not one single dream.

The sad thing is, my chosen profession puts me in a position where I’m supposed to stay abreast of pop culture and current events so that I can weave these touchpoints seamlessly into my writings. Our clients strive to be relevant. They want to be on the top of everyone’s mind. While the perks of such a profession can be enriching (tax write-offs for comic books and concert tickets under the auspice of “research”), the downside is a barely uncontrollable urge to just hide in a dark corner and weep.

In order to temporarily stave off the dreadful power of creative burnout, I’m going to talk about all the things that I don’t care about. Some of these things will be described in sarcastic detail. Some will be appended with evidence of my nonchalance. And all of them will be promoted by my non-promotion of them.

Yes, the irony is not lost on me.

Anyway, here are 87 Things That I Don’t Care About (with some links):

  1. LOST – I haven’t cared about people stranded on islands since the days of Gilligan. Smoke monsters and polar bears are just updated versions of Wrongway Feldman and Dr. Boris Balinkoff. Look it up, youngsters!
  2. Bluetooth headsets – You just look like a tool when you’re walking in a crowded shopping mall talking to yourself about tee times. Seriously. Is your life that important that you need to be in constant contact with someone? Will the world economy collapse if you take an afternoon nap?
  3. Harry Potter
  4. Miley Cyrus
  5. The Cleveland Browns – Win something, then we’ll talk.
  6. Free credit reports
  7. Amy Winehouse
  8. Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
  9. Turkey – The country, not the animal. Turkey, the animal, is delicious. It’s especially delicious when it’s sliced thinly and piled on a hard-crusted bread with watercress, Havarti and a smear of mango chutney. I’m not kidding. It’s superb.
  10. Superpoke
  11. Super Unleaded gasoline
  12. Superchunk
  13. “Super Duper” – Used as an adjective, especially in the lyrics to “Puttin’ On The Ritz” by one hit wonder Taco.
  14. PlayStation 3
  15. Lifetime television channel
  16. People who play the bassoon
  17. Ted Turner
  18. Professional wrestler The Blue Meanie
  19. Truck stops
  20. Preteen chick flicks about vampires
  21. This guy
  22. That new Star Trek movie
  23. Anything made out of gold (silver is less pretentious)
  24. Cash4Gold
  25. Kanye West
  26. Quilts
  27. Quilting
  28. Magazines about quilting
  29. Magazines about rock climbing (but not rock climbing itself)
  30. Pecan sandies – fuck those things.
  31. Songs about women riding horses
  32. Billy Baldwin’s film career (except for Fair Game…that’s a classic)
  33. Stores that sell $350 jeans
  34. Sporks
  35. Traveling anywhere by bus – Didn’t we outlaw torture in the US?
  36. Paintings of fruit
  37. Furniture that you’re not allowed to sit on
  38. People whose pet peeves encourage them to correct other people’s grammar
  39. Paddleboats
  40. The Colorado River
  41. The difference between bologna and salami
  42. Comic books about people who hate their jobs
  43. Coup d’états
  44. The Little Rascals
  45. Country music – Except for stuff that only sounds like country music but really isn’t…like some Neko Case and Jenny Lewis songs. However, I have extra contempt for stuff that is country music but pretends not to be. I’m looking at you, Wilco.
  46. Greeting cards
  47. Bumper stickers
  48. Department store changing rooms
  49. People who ride scooters just to be clever – I’m on to you.
  50. The bullriding monkey
  51. Umbrellas
  52. Scratch and sniff stickers – For my money, they could never nail down the smell of chocolate. It was always too sweet.
  53. Ukulele songs
  54. Small dogs – If I can accidentally step on it and kill it, it is not a pet.
  55. Flightless birds
  56. Electric can openers
  57. Kites
  58. The Canadian Pavilion at Walt Disney World’s Epcot Center – That’s just lazy.
  59. Trilobites
  60. Galactica 80 – Wow. That was just awful, wasn’t it?
  61. Hair dryers
  62. Shorthand
  63. Nicknames for basketball players – Let me guess, it’s going to have something to do with him being tall.
  64. Kentucky
  65. Superstitions based on weather
  66. Blue food – Not counting that funky milk stuff from the first Star Wars movie
  67. Origami
  68. The jackass at every Halloween party who shows up dressed as “himself”
  69. Cannibalism
  70. Commercials for life insurance
  71. Dancing With the Stars – Not only does the premise bore me, but they blatantly abuse the word “Stars” with apparent glee and relish
  72. Banana peels
  73. Organ grinders
  74. Mushrooms
  75. The Rolling Stones (except Paint it Black)
  76. Whooping cough
  77. This car
  78. Abstinence
  79. Staying up until 2am on a Thursday to watch The Pope of Greenwich Village, because I was under the impression that it was one of those underrated great movies of my generation. Instead, it was just sort of boring. And it was difficult trying to rectify both Eric Roberts’ perm and Mickey Rourke’s face in today’s celeb-centric world.
  80. Clothing for pets
  81. The new Beyonce album that Amazon seems to think I’d be interested in, based on me adding the upcoming Hold Steady live album to my Wish List. Correlation?
  82. Basing my entire workday around the latest announcements from Apple
  83. Deep sea fishing
  84. Balloons – What’s the point?
  85. Tricycles
  86. People who only want to talk to me about what they did today. Sometimes it sucks being a great listener. Might as well be a eunuch.
  87. Not winning the lottery.

Wow, I thought that would help me feel a bit better. But it didn’t.

Whassup in 2008?

Remember that beer commercial with all those dudes yelling “Whassup?” that was then turned into an endless series of sequels, parodies and really unfunny skits? Well, the original five guys are back with an “8 years later” update and life hasn’t been kind to them…

Funny…and yet poignantly true.

FUN FACT: Did you know that the star and director of that spot, Charles Stone III, was also the director of the Nick Cannon (Mr. Mariah Carey) film Drumline? Strange but true. I just had to get a pop culture reference in there somewhere…

An Open Letter to the Red States

Dear Red States:

If you manage to steal this election too we’ve decided we’re leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we’re taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren’t aware, that includes California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and the entire Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.

To sum up briefly:

  • You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches.
  • We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood.
  • We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom and Enron.
  • We get Harvard. You get Ole Miss.
  • We get 85% of America’s venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama.
  • We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to finally pay your fair share.
  • Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than that of the Christian Coalition, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms and deadbeat dads.
  • And you get to keep New Orleans. You broke it, you bought it.

Of course, we’ll also be taking the nation’s capital with us. You should be alright though. I hear there’s plenty of real estate available up in Alaska, if you don’t mind a few pesky polar bears searching for a new habitat.

Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we’re going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they’re apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don’t care if you don’t show pictures of their children’s caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq , and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we’re not willing to spend our resources in Bush’s Quagmire.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country’s fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% of the nation’s fresh fruit, 95% of America’s quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.

With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99% of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.

We get Hollywood, Disneyland and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38% of those in the Red States believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we’re discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.

Finally, we’re taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.

Peace out,
Blue States