Look! It's Bevan Dufty riding Muni
With his daughter Sidney
If he can fix the fucking trains
I'll give him my left kidney
Steve Jobs passed on; I guess you'd say
His work benefitted us all
Another way to put it would be
AT&T dropped his call
The mayor's race is heating up
Ed Lee is getting attacked
I wouldn't worry about it though
He's pretty heavily Rose Pak'd
Occupy SF took to the streets
To stir up some civil strife
I doubt they're going to reform Wall Street
By yelling at my wife
The Blue Angels are here for their yearly flight
Some people think it's tacky
If the sound of fighters bothers you
Be glad you're not Iraqi
Showing posts with label Foreign policy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Foreign policy. Show all posts
Friday, October 7, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Lyric Deconstruction: "American Ride"
Toby Keith, 2009
Winter gettin' colder, summer gettin' warmer.
Tidal wave comin' 'cross the Mexican border.
Why buy a gallon, it's cheaper by the barrel.
Just dont get busted singin' Christmas carols.
By this point, about 24 seconds into the song, you're probably thinking "Oh no, here's some more Toby Keith retarded bullshit," and you're partially right. It's difficult to put a charitable spin on "Tidal wave comin' cross the Mexican border." And if you have any reports of anyone being arrested for singing Christmas carols, do forward them.
That's us, that's right
Gotta love this American ride.
Both ends of the ozone burnin.
Funny how the world keeps turnin.
Look ma, no hands.
I love this American ride.
Gotta love this American ride.
I feel like I really don't have to explain that ozone degradation and the rotation of the Earth are two widely disconnected phenomena. I mean, we could lose the entire ozone layer - indeed, the entire atmosphere - and the world would keep turnin, for billions of years. It's angular momentum, a widely-understood property of physics. So it's really not that funny that the world keeps turnin. IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL.
But wait! You have to see the video to appreciate this song. I mean, it's a terrible video, but it makes clear that this song is an equal opportunity hater.
There's a fascinating scene that begins around :40. We see the classic American Gothic couple, only they're getting foreclosed on! And what's replacing the family farm? Big box stores!
Now wait a minute. Isn't the guiding principle of unfettered capitalism that you should be free to do whatever you want with your money? So if you're Best Buy or whatever and you want to buy a farm and put up a store there, you should be able to, right? So what's the problem, Toby Keith? What are you, some kind of socialist?
Momma gets her rocks off watchin' Desperate Housewives.
Daddy works his ass off payin' for the good life.
Kids on the YouTube learnin how to be cool.
Livin in a cruel world, pays to be a mean girl.
I guess this is more or less the standard kind of workin-hard-to-make-a-buck-my-wife-don't-understand country music stuff. Hard to have any problem with that.
Chorus
At this stage in the video, we are presented with two interesting animated images. The first is Pat Robertson riding George W. Bush like a horse. Let's set aside the extremely disturbing aspects of this tableau and try to divine what's implied here - that Bush was a tool of the Religious Right? Meh, he certainly had that potential, and God knows what would have happened, but 9/11 kind of took the focus off those nutbags.
The second image is Obama being carried aloft by Wall Street bankers. Hard to argue with that. In fact, that's probably the most straightforward and accurate political commentary in the whole thing.
Poor little infamous, America's town.
She gained five pounds and lost her crown.
Quick fix plastic surgical antidote.
Got herself a record deal, can't even sing a note.
Hmmmm. Well, Dominique Ramirez, Miss San Antonio, did, in fact, lose accuse pageant officials of taking her crown when she gained weight. But I have no information that she got herself a record deal.
(I initially thought this was a backhanded slap at Carrie Underwood, another former pageant contestant who got herself a record deal. But I think the consensus is that she's a perfectly fine singer, although, I confess, I'm not really down with the Nashville gossip.)
Plasma gettin bigger, Jesus gettin smaller.
Spill a cup of coffee, make a million dollars.
Customs caught a thug with an aerosol can.
If the shoe don't fit, fits gonna hit the shan.
I have to confess, when I first heard this, I thought "I, for one, am glad that plasma is widely available! It's a valuable life-saving tool that doctors in emergency situations use every day!" Oh, wait, he's not talking about that, is he. Oh, he means TVs.
Well, so what if TVs are getting bigger! That's progress!
I won't even bother with the frivolous lawsuits thing. Yawn.
The last line is completely impenetrable, and I assume the songwriters just ran out of gas at the end. Just as I have here.
Chorus
Winter gettin' colder, summer gettin' warmer.
Tidal wave comin' 'cross the Mexican border.
Why buy a gallon, it's cheaper by the barrel.
Just dont get busted singin' Christmas carols.
By this point, about 24 seconds into the song, you're probably thinking "Oh no, here's some more Toby Keith retarded bullshit," and you're partially right. It's difficult to put a charitable spin on "Tidal wave comin' cross the Mexican border." And if you have any reports of anyone being arrested for singing Christmas carols, do forward them.
That's us, that's right
Gotta love this American ride.
Both ends of the ozone burnin.
Funny how the world keeps turnin.
Look ma, no hands.
I love this American ride.
Gotta love this American ride.
I feel like I really don't have to explain that ozone degradation and the rotation of the Earth are two widely disconnected phenomena. I mean, we could lose the entire ozone layer - indeed, the entire atmosphere - and the world would keep turnin, for billions of years. It's angular momentum, a widely-understood property of physics. So it's really not that funny that the world keeps turnin. IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL.
But wait! You have to see the video to appreciate this song. I mean, it's a terrible video, but it makes clear that this song is an equal opportunity hater.
There's a fascinating scene that begins around :40. We see the classic American Gothic couple, only they're getting foreclosed on! And what's replacing the family farm? Big box stores!
Now wait a minute. Isn't the guiding principle of unfettered capitalism that you should be free to do whatever you want with your money? So if you're Best Buy or whatever and you want to buy a farm and put up a store there, you should be able to, right? So what's the problem, Toby Keith? What are you, some kind of socialist?
Momma gets her rocks off watchin' Desperate Housewives.
Daddy works his ass off payin' for the good life.
Kids on the YouTube learnin how to be cool.
Livin in a cruel world, pays to be a mean girl.
I guess this is more or less the standard kind of workin-hard-to-make-a-buck-my-wife-don't-understand country music stuff. Hard to have any problem with that.
Chorus
At this stage in the video, we are presented with two interesting animated images. The first is Pat Robertson riding George W. Bush like a horse. Let's set aside the extremely disturbing aspects of this tableau and try to divine what's implied here - that Bush was a tool of the Religious Right? Meh, he certainly had that potential, and God knows what would have happened, but 9/11 kind of took the focus off those nutbags.
The second image is Obama being carried aloft by Wall Street bankers. Hard to argue with that. In fact, that's probably the most straightforward and accurate political commentary in the whole thing.
Poor little infamous, America's town.
She gained five pounds and lost her crown.
Quick fix plastic surgical antidote.
Got herself a record deal, can't even sing a note.
Hmmmm. Well, Dominique Ramirez, Miss San Antonio, did, in fact, lose accuse pageant officials of taking her crown when she gained weight. But I have no information that she got herself a record deal.
(I initially thought this was a backhanded slap at Carrie Underwood, another former pageant contestant who got herself a record deal. But I think the consensus is that she's a perfectly fine singer, although, I confess, I'm not really down with the Nashville gossip.)
Plasma gettin bigger, Jesus gettin smaller.
Spill a cup of coffee, make a million dollars.
Customs caught a thug with an aerosol can.
If the shoe don't fit, fits gonna hit the shan.
I have to confess, when I first heard this, I thought "I, for one, am glad that plasma is widely available! It's a valuable life-saving tool that doctors in emergency situations use every day!" Oh, wait, he's not talking about that, is he. Oh, he means TVs.
Well, so what if TVs are getting bigger! That's progress!
I won't even bother with the frivolous lawsuits thing. Yawn.
The last line is completely impenetrable, and I assume the songwriters just ran out of gas at the end. Just as I have here.
Chorus
Monday, August 22, 2011
Trip Report: Los Cabos
At my advanced age, I could give a shit about adventure tourism. You and William T. Vollmann can go dodge mortar fire in Tripoli or live amongst the whores of Bangladesh. Fuck that noise, my chief concern is how long it takes to get a drink and why the fucking pool closes at 8:00 pm instead of 10:00.
Well, not entirely. When I go to places like New York or London or some shit like that, I'm super into running around and going to museums and all that jazz. I guess I'm talking about the kind of vacation where you just lay around in the sun and drink. Do kids like to do that still? Oh, I guess everyone has to make it extra difficult and do it on a beach in India (NOT GOA, THAT SHIT IS SO PLAYED, I KNOW) or Bali or Madagascar or some place. I know that the harder it is to get to and the more primitive the conditions the better, right?
Well, fuck that. I'm all about it being easy and that's why we just went to this all-inclusive resort in Los Cabos called the Riu Santa Fe. We got a total deal on this place - like $200 a night, which includes all the food and alcohol you want.
That's right. ALL THE DRINKS YOU WANT. INCLUDED. That means they essentially gave us the room. I've run up $200 bar tabs on vacation in 45 minutes, so you can see why the Riu Santa Fe probably lost money on our visit.
The crowd was interesting. It was basically 50-50 Mexicans (well, I assume they were Mexicans; they were Spanish-speaking and darker-skinned; I mean, they could have been Honduran or whatever but I just got the Mexican vibe from them) and Americans. Seemed like a place where Mexicans go to vacation, too. The line at the Los Cabos airport for the Mexico City flight was longer than for the Phoenix flight, anyway. But I digress. Of the Americans, it tended towards a bit younger and, for whatever reason, sort of Jersey Shore-ish. I mean, a lot of elaborate tattoos and backwards baseball caps and gold chains and chicks who dressed for dinner by putting on skintight electric blue dresses that ended just below crotch level and 6" heels. Interesting. There were also a smattering of older couples and families with kids, and also some Australians.
The resort was huge and loosely organized around this central plaza area that was clearly meant to evoke the plaza in a Mexican town but without any stray dogs or non-English-speaking Mexicans. Instead, there were a couple of outdoor bars and a stage where they had some form of live entertainment every night. Entertainment beyond the bartenders - who, make no mistake, were unflailingly cheerful and incredibly fast - making odd rainbow-layered shooters for the assembled blockheads to enjoy. The entertainment veered from Resort Cheesy to Really Weird, but hey, it was something to look at whilst enjoying as many rounds of free drinks as you could put down before passing out.
Speaking of "free," it's nice to bring a stack of ones if you're coming to one of these places and tip frequently and with gusto. They really appreciate it and it makes you feel like less of a dick for watching someone make your drinks and then just saying "gracias" and walking away with them.
Oh, that brings up the Spanish Problem, which is, how much Spanish do you attempt if you don't really speak Spanish? Everyone who works there speaks enough English to get by, so is it weird or insulting to say "Dos pinas coladas, por favor" instead of "Two pina coladas, please"? I mean, does it seem kinda condescending? I could never figure it out. Also, why did the guy at the restaurant door say "Hola" to Americans but "Buenos dias" to Mexicans? I ended up usually ordering in English and then saying "Gracias" and walking away quickly, oddly ashamed. These are the kinds of things I worry about.
Anyway, the whole thing was a complete success, from a Morning Drinking and Total Relaxation standpoint. The food was actually really good, and the weather was nice and hot, and on the second day we found the quiet pool away from the thumping disco music and Vinnies whooping at each other and so forth. After a few days, though, I couldn't really handle the all-day all-night drinking any more and it was time to split.
The only other thing of note was the HUGE DOUCHEBAG who sat next to The Wife on the flight home. He got on in Phoenix and started braying at her immediately (she was one row ahead of me but I could hear his booming asshole voice from the back of the plane if I wanted) and I learned, involuntarily, that he lives in the Marina and had been in Scottsdale for some reason and had bought 3 bottles of champagne already earlier that day for "Sunday Funday" and just bought a place in "Pac Heights," although oddly it turned out to be near "Washington Square Park, I guess," which is, of course, nowhere near "Pac Heights" and I was trying to read and he blared on and on and on at her and finally I had to put in my headphones and turn up the music so loud it was almost painful just to drown out his piercing drunk voice. OK whew I'm alright now just had to get that out of my system.
(She also said that he showed her "every picture on his phone," and that they were mostly of him.)
Well, not entirely. When I go to places like New York or London or some shit like that, I'm super into running around and going to museums and all that jazz. I guess I'm talking about the kind of vacation where you just lay around in the sun and drink. Do kids like to do that still? Oh, I guess everyone has to make it extra difficult and do it on a beach in India (NOT GOA, THAT SHIT IS SO PLAYED, I KNOW) or Bali or Madagascar or some place. I know that the harder it is to get to and the more primitive the conditions the better, right?
Well, fuck that. I'm all about it being easy and that's why we just went to this all-inclusive resort in Los Cabos called the Riu Santa Fe. We got a total deal on this place - like $200 a night, which includes all the food and alcohol you want.
That's right. ALL THE DRINKS YOU WANT. INCLUDED. That means they essentially gave us the room. I've run up $200 bar tabs on vacation in 45 minutes, so you can see why the Riu Santa Fe probably lost money on our visit.
The crowd was interesting. It was basically 50-50 Mexicans (well, I assume they were Mexicans; they were Spanish-speaking and darker-skinned; I mean, they could have been Honduran or whatever but I just got the Mexican vibe from them) and Americans. Seemed like a place where Mexicans go to vacation, too. The line at the Los Cabos airport for the Mexico City flight was longer than for the Phoenix flight, anyway. But I digress. Of the Americans, it tended towards a bit younger and, for whatever reason, sort of Jersey Shore-ish. I mean, a lot of elaborate tattoos and backwards baseball caps and gold chains and chicks who dressed for dinner by putting on skintight electric blue dresses that ended just below crotch level and 6" heels. Interesting. There were also a smattering of older couples and families with kids, and also some Australians.
The resort was huge and loosely organized around this central plaza area that was clearly meant to evoke the plaza in a Mexican town but without any stray dogs or non-English-speaking Mexicans. Instead, there were a couple of outdoor bars and a stage where they had some form of live entertainment every night. Entertainment beyond the bartenders - who, make no mistake, were unflailingly cheerful and incredibly fast - making odd rainbow-layered shooters for the assembled blockheads to enjoy. The entertainment veered from Resort Cheesy to Really Weird, but hey, it was something to look at whilst enjoying as many rounds of free drinks as you could put down before passing out.
Speaking of "free," it's nice to bring a stack of ones if you're coming to one of these places and tip frequently and with gusto. They really appreciate it and it makes you feel like less of a dick for watching someone make your drinks and then just saying "gracias" and walking away with them.
Oh, that brings up the Spanish Problem, which is, how much Spanish do you attempt if you don't really speak Spanish? Everyone who works there speaks enough English to get by, so is it weird or insulting to say "Dos pinas coladas, por favor" instead of "Two pina coladas, please"? I mean, does it seem kinda condescending? I could never figure it out. Also, why did the guy at the restaurant door say "Hola" to Americans but "Buenos dias" to Mexicans? I ended up usually ordering in English and then saying "Gracias" and walking away quickly, oddly ashamed. These are the kinds of things I worry about.
Anyway, the whole thing was a complete success, from a Morning Drinking and Total Relaxation standpoint. The food was actually really good, and the weather was nice and hot, and on the second day we found the quiet pool away from the thumping disco music and Vinnies whooping at each other and so forth. After a few days, though, I couldn't really handle the all-day all-night drinking any more and it was time to split.
The only other thing of note was the HUGE DOUCHEBAG who sat next to The Wife on the flight home. He got on in Phoenix and started braying at her immediately (she was one row ahead of me but I could hear his booming asshole voice from the back of the plane if I wanted) and I learned, involuntarily, that he lives in the Marina and had been in Scottsdale for some reason and had bought 3 bottles of champagne already earlier that day for "Sunday Funday" and just bought a place in "Pac Heights," although oddly it turned out to be near "Washington Square Park, I guess," which is, of course, nowhere near "Pac Heights" and I was trying to read and he blared on and on and on at her and finally I had to put in my headphones and turn up the music so loud it was almost painful just to drown out his piercing drunk voice. OK whew I'm alright now just had to get that out of my system.
(She also said that he showed her "every picture on his phone," and that they were mostly of him.)
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Programming Note
We're going to San Diego tomorrow and then Mexico on Thursday for a few days. We'll be back Sunday, so the blog will probably be quiet until Monday. C'est la vie.
In the meantime, here's a video of a chihuahua wearing booties.
Have a good rest of week/weekend/whatever.
In the meantime, here's a video of a chihuahua wearing booties.
Have a good rest of week/weekend/whatever.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The creeping problem of ISWNOCHFS
Found on Twitter earlier today:
Oh, please. Get over yourself. This is a prime example of what I call the If Something's Wrong No One Can Have Fun Syndrome (ISWNOCHFS). You see this kind of thing pretty regularly. Like "There are babies starving and you're still watching Toddlers and Tiaras" or "How can Adam Sandler keep making movies when the world is like this?" Actually that last one is kinda true and I do wish Adam Sandler would stop making movies.
BUT ANYWAY. Point being that this scold above would have you be ashamed for watching Jersey Shore (as long as you're in the "western world," apparently. If you're in Japan or Soouth Africa, enjoy Jersey Shore at your leisure! You're fine!) because there are Problems in the World and watching Jersey Shore doesn't help.
Let's take a look at some different possible outcomes:
Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Syria nightmare
No one watches Jersey Shore ---------> Syria nightmare
Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Economy in shambles
You and your stupid brother
watch Jersey Shore; no one
else watches Jersey Shore ------------> Economy in shambles
Your cat and Eric Cantor
watch Jersey Shore while
eating In N Out burgers --------------> Economy in shambles; cat and Eric Cantor happy
You see? The number of people and/or animals and/or members of Congress who watch or don't watch Jersey Shore has exactly zero impact on whether or not the World's Crises are ameliorated in any way. The real point of this kind of faux-shaming technique is to say "Look at me! I'm so superior that I would never deign to watch that crap, especially when there are World Crises for me to be Very Upset about! Shame on you for pursuing such a lowbrow entertainment whilst I monitor the BBC feed 24/7!"
THIS IS NOT TO SAY, of course, that we shouldn't all be appropriately concerned about riots in London and the DJIA falling 600 points and starvation in Somalia. OF COURSE you should care about those things. But watching Jersey Shore isn't really going to affect them one way or another. So don't be ashamed. Well, you should be a little ashamed, but just because you're watching Jersey Shore in the fourth season. It all went downhill after Season 1. Duh.
Oh, please. Get over yourself. This is a prime example of what I call the If Something's Wrong No One Can Have Fun Syndrome (ISWNOCHFS). You see this kind of thing pretty regularly. Like "There are babies starving and you're still watching Toddlers and Tiaras" or "How can Adam Sandler keep making movies when the world is like this?" Actually that last one is kinda true and I do wish Adam Sandler would stop making movies.
BUT ANYWAY. Point being that this scold above would have you be ashamed for watching Jersey Shore (as long as you're in the "western world," apparently. If you're in Japan or Soouth Africa, enjoy Jersey Shore at your leisure! You're fine!) because there are Problems in the World and watching Jersey Shore doesn't help.
Let's take a look at some different possible outcomes:
Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Syria nightmare
No one watches Jersey Shore ---------> Syria nightmare
Millions watch Jersey Shore ----------> Economy in shambles
You and your stupid brother
watch Jersey Shore; no one
else watches Jersey Shore ------------> Economy in shambles
Your cat and Eric Cantor
watch Jersey Shore while
eating In N Out burgers --------------> Economy in shambles; cat and Eric Cantor happy
You see? The number of people and/or animals and/or members of Congress who watch or don't watch Jersey Shore has exactly zero impact on whether or not the World's Crises are ameliorated in any way. The real point of this kind of faux-shaming technique is to say "Look at me! I'm so superior that I would never deign to watch that crap, especially when there are World Crises for me to be Very Upset about! Shame on you for pursuing such a lowbrow entertainment whilst I monitor the BBC feed 24/7!"
THIS IS NOT TO SAY, of course, that we shouldn't all be appropriately concerned about riots in London and the DJIA falling 600 points and starvation in Somalia. OF COURSE you should care about those things. But watching Jersey Shore isn't really going to affect them one way or another. So don't be ashamed. Well, you should be a little ashamed, but just because you're watching Jersey Shore in the fourth season. It all went downhill after Season 1. Duh.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Bachelorette: Anybody got a Dad they can spare?
Like Ashley Chipmunk, I am also currently on a Hometown Date, except that mine consists of drinking on my Dad's back patio until 1 a.m. in 80-degree heat and hanging out with the extended family, while Ashley's consists of a painful road trip across America where she is confronted by Greek ladies asking how soon can she drop everything and move to Atlanta because they need a waitress stat.
Anyway, I knew I said I probably couldn't do the recap but last night all of us were burnt out on boozing and so we gathered around the family TV and watched Ashley make a series of semi-awkward to outright painful visits to these losers' families. Up first is Constantine, who I was really hoping lived in a tenement in Greek Town somewhere but who sadly hails from a McMansion in a featureless suburb of Atlanta. It seems that his family runs Giorgio's but that's cool because ethnic food is ethnic food, right? Pumpkinhead and Chipmunk visit the restaurant and pretend to make food and I don't think that kitchen crew is Greek unless Greece has relocated to Oaxaca. Then we get on to the Family Portion and Mom immediately puts the screws on Chipmunk to relocate and then Dad offers that she has a "gorgeous personality" which is Greek for "I'd hit it" and then clearly at the urging of the producers they have a My Big Fat Greek Reality Show moment and do that circular dance around the dining room and then Dad makes it rain and throws money in the air like he's some old Greek 50 Cent and the whole thing is just sort of sad.
Next we're going to visit the factory where Ames was assembled! Oh, I mean Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania, which is so white it makes "Leave It to Beaver" look like "The Wire." Ames's "family" look like leftovers from an 80's movie about preppies and his sister has a sixhead just like him and tells Chipmunk how "romantic" he is and, what, did you two used to date? Where's Dad, anyway? Oh, we find out Dad died. Then Stepdad died. This is very sad but also I hope someone looked at Ames for the Dad Murders of Chadd's Ford. Ames needs to prove that he's not gay, so natch he takes Ashley to the "most beautiful garden I know," GREAT JOB AMES just like any old straight guy would say and they have a picnic and he tries to romance her by lowering his robot head onto her face for Lip Engagement Sequence Number 47B and I think it's safe to say that Ames will be parked back in the garage at the end of this episode.
OK, off to Sonoma to meet Early Man Ben F.'s family. They tromp off to his winery to have the now-oblig. picnic and Chipmunk wants to know if there's anything she should know. "Well, actually," Ben says, "my father was a silverback gorilla," oh, no, wait, his Dad is dead too. All these dead Dads are bumming me out. OK, let's meet the fam. Well, his sister sure is a handsome lady! She assures Chipmunk that Ben is in touch with his emotions. Good thing, because Mom isn't exactly a waterfall of feeling. Something else may have happened but I kinda zoned out a little at this point and I was also playing Words With Friends at the same time. It's a good thing that whoever named Words With Friends didn't name other games too or checkers would be called Moving Discs Across a Flat Surface. But I digress.
Last stop: Long Island, to meet JP's fam. They start out with a little roller skating to "I Can't Fight This Feeling," and I guess the rights to that song are so cheap now that even "The Bachelorette" can afford them and why are we even doing this? Let's meet this family. Oh, thank God, Mom has the Classic Long Island accent. Look, JP has a Live Dad! Now we're getting somewhere. He sure doesn't say much, but at least he's still up and mobile. Everyone talks darkly about JP's last relationship and how much it fucked him up and by the way they're talking it sounded like he needed electroshock to get over this bitch and what the hell did she do? Ohhhhh, maybe that's why Dad's so quiet! Anyway, we all chow down on some lasagna and Mom hauls out the Embarrassing Photo and that's about it.
Back in LA, Chipmunk sits down with Chris Harrison and God save our fucking souls, we are going to rehash the Bentley thing one more fucking time. They recap the dates a little and it's clear that Ames is already her Gay Best Friend and they're totally going to have slumber parties and watch Audrey Hepburn movies and talk about boys.
Time for the cuts Yes, no surprise. Ames is let go and he talks about how "poetic" the whole thing has been like he could get any gayer. So the final three is Pumpkinhead and Early Man and GI Joe. Good luck with that.
Anyway, I knew I said I probably couldn't do the recap but last night all of us were burnt out on boozing and so we gathered around the family TV and watched Ashley make a series of semi-awkward to outright painful visits to these losers' families. Up first is Constantine, who I was really hoping lived in a tenement in Greek Town somewhere but who sadly hails from a McMansion in a featureless suburb of Atlanta. It seems that his family runs Giorgio's but that's cool because ethnic food is ethnic food, right? Pumpkinhead and Chipmunk visit the restaurant and pretend to make food and I don't think that kitchen crew is Greek unless Greece has relocated to Oaxaca. Then we get on to the Family Portion and Mom immediately puts the screws on Chipmunk to relocate and then Dad offers that she has a "gorgeous personality" which is Greek for "I'd hit it" and then clearly at the urging of the producers they have a My Big Fat Greek Reality Show moment and do that circular dance around the dining room and then Dad makes it rain and throws money in the air like he's some old Greek 50 Cent and the whole thing is just sort of sad.
Next we're going to visit the factory where Ames was assembled! Oh, I mean Chadd's Ford, Pennsylvania, which is so white it makes "Leave It to Beaver" look like "The Wire." Ames's "family" look like leftovers from an 80's movie about preppies and his sister has a sixhead just like him and tells Chipmunk how "romantic" he is and, what, did you two used to date? Where's Dad, anyway? Oh, we find out Dad died. Then Stepdad died. This is very sad but also I hope someone looked at Ames for the Dad Murders of Chadd's Ford. Ames needs to prove that he's not gay, so natch he takes Ashley to the "most beautiful garden I know," GREAT JOB AMES just like any old straight guy would say and they have a picnic and he tries to romance her by lowering his robot head onto her face for Lip Engagement Sequence Number 47B and I think it's safe to say that Ames will be parked back in the garage at the end of this episode.
OK, off to Sonoma to meet Early Man Ben F.'s family. They tromp off to his winery to have the now-oblig. picnic and Chipmunk wants to know if there's anything she should know. "Well, actually," Ben says, "my father was a silverback gorilla," oh, no, wait, his Dad is dead too. All these dead Dads are bumming me out. OK, let's meet the fam. Well, his sister sure is a handsome lady! She assures Chipmunk that Ben is in touch with his emotions. Good thing, because Mom isn't exactly a waterfall of feeling. Something else may have happened but I kinda zoned out a little at this point and I was also playing Words With Friends at the same time. It's a good thing that whoever named Words With Friends didn't name other games too or checkers would be called Moving Discs Across a Flat Surface. But I digress.
Last stop: Long Island, to meet JP's fam. They start out with a little roller skating to "I Can't Fight This Feeling," and I guess the rights to that song are so cheap now that even "The Bachelorette" can afford them and why are we even doing this? Let's meet this family. Oh, thank God, Mom has the Classic Long Island accent. Look, JP has a Live Dad! Now we're getting somewhere. He sure doesn't say much, but at least he's still up and mobile. Everyone talks darkly about JP's last relationship and how much it fucked him up and by the way they're talking it sounded like he needed electroshock to get over this bitch and what the hell did she do? Ohhhhh, maybe that's why Dad's so quiet! Anyway, we all chow down on some lasagna and Mom hauls out the Embarrassing Photo and that's about it.
Back in LA, Chipmunk sits down with Chris Harrison and God save our fucking souls, we are going to rehash the Bentley thing one more fucking time. They recap the dates a little and it's clear that Ames is already her Gay Best Friend and they're totally going to have slumber parties and watch Audrey Hepburn movies and talk about boys.
Time for the cuts Yes, no surprise. Ames is let go and he talks about how "poetic" the whole thing has been like he could get any gayer. So the final three is Pumpkinhead and Early Man and GI Joe. Good luck with that.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Prices slightly higher in Times Square and Hell
HEY-O!!! IT'S RED LOBSTER SEAFOOD FEAST TIME AGAIN!!!!!
Whilst recently watching some network TV (probably the Bachelorette, God help me, that feels like my fucking job half the time), I happened to see an ad for Red Lobster's special Seafood Feast, wherein one might get a 4-course dinner for $15!!! THAT'S A HELL OF A DEAL. I couldn't find the ad online (because, what, there is nobody in the United States uploading all Red Lobster ads on YouTube? FUCK YOU AMERICA GET TO WORK. Sure, we have this one - FROM 2009 - or this one - FROM 1986 - but nothing for the Seafood Feast? WEAK.)
A N Y W A Y, there is a curious disclaimer at the end of the ad, reproduced here in their online advertising thing:
Now, ignore, if you can, the prospect of some signature New England Clam Chowder followed by some Shrimp-and-Scallops Alfredo and look there at the bottom. See it?
PRICES HIGHER IN TIMES SQUARE AND HAWAII
Now, Hawaii I can understand. It's very expensive to ship frozen processed seafood to an ISLAND CHAIN SURROUNDED BY AN OCEAN FULL OF FISH. It must take tons of fossil fuels to deliver each savory bite of parmesan-crusted tilapia to your table in Honolulu.
BUT HERE'S THE THING.
If you are in New York City, and you go to eat at Red Lobster, KILL YOURSELF. And not just because prices are higher in Times Square! But because you are in one of the greatest dining destinations in the World and you have chosen to drop off your hard-earned dollars in one of the crappiest chains there is. I don't eat a lot of seafood and I don't live in New York, but I will bet you ANYTHING there is a better seafood within walking distance of Times Square that's either comparable or cheaper.
Now I'm not some "Oh, I wouldn't dare eat at a chain" kind of snob. When I'm in the South, I loves me some Cracker Barrel and don't even get me started on Krystal. I want to open a Krystal here and CLEAN THE FUCK UP. I have been known to partake of In N Out, although I fail to see its mysterious allure, and fuck it, I'll throw down at McD's when the time is right.
But here's our standing deal: When we're traveling somewhere, NO CHAINS. C'mon, you've gone 500 or 1000 or 5000 miles away from home and the best thing you can think of is to have lunch at the same place you can hit while you're waiting for your car at Jiffy Lube back home? COME ON MAN.
[DISCLAIMER - I've never really traveled to the Far East and I guess if you went to China and all you had was squid eyes and catfish roe and dirt patties for a week, I could cut you some slack on posting up at KFC. But you're on an Intra-American trip, I'm pretty strict on this. NO CHAINS.]
[Second disclaimer - In the interests of exploration and reportage, I did hit up Supermac's last time I was in Ireland, which is like the Irish equivalent of McDonald's. Terrible. But none of the food in Ireland is any good. Well, there was this vegetable soup at this pub in Gerrykennedy that was really really good. But that's about it.]
Whilst recently watching some network TV (probably the Bachelorette, God help me, that feels like my fucking job half the time), I happened to see an ad for Red Lobster's special Seafood Feast, wherein one might get a 4-course dinner for $15!!! THAT'S A HELL OF A DEAL. I couldn't find the ad online (because, what, there is nobody in the United States uploading all Red Lobster ads on YouTube? FUCK YOU AMERICA GET TO WORK. Sure, we have this one - FROM 2009 - or this one - FROM 1986 - but nothing for the Seafood Feast? WEAK.)
A N Y W A Y, there is a curious disclaimer at the end of the ad, reproduced here in their online advertising thing:
Now, ignore, if you can, the prospect of some signature New England Clam Chowder followed by some Shrimp-and-Scallops Alfredo and look there at the bottom. See it?
PRICES HIGHER IN TIMES SQUARE AND HAWAII
Now, Hawaii I can understand. It's very expensive to ship frozen processed seafood to an ISLAND CHAIN SURROUNDED BY AN OCEAN FULL OF FISH. It must take tons of fossil fuels to deliver each savory bite of parmesan-crusted tilapia to your table in Honolulu.
BUT HERE'S THE THING.
If you are in New York City, and you go to eat at Red Lobster, KILL YOURSELF. And not just because prices are higher in Times Square! But because you are in one of the greatest dining destinations in the World and you have chosen to drop off your hard-earned dollars in one of the crappiest chains there is. I don't eat a lot of seafood and I don't live in New York, but I will bet you ANYTHING there is a better seafood within walking distance of Times Square that's either comparable or cheaper.
Now I'm not some "Oh, I wouldn't dare eat at a chain" kind of snob. When I'm in the South, I loves me some Cracker Barrel and don't even get me started on Krystal. I want to open a Krystal here and CLEAN THE FUCK UP. I have been known to partake of In N Out, although I fail to see its mysterious allure, and fuck it, I'll throw down at McD's when the time is right.
But here's our standing deal: When we're traveling somewhere, NO CHAINS. C'mon, you've gone 500 or 1000 or 5000 miles away from home and the best thing you can think of is to have lunch at the same place you can hit while you're waiting for your car at Jiffy Lube back home? COME ON MAN.
[DISCLAIMER - I've never really traveled to the Far East and I guess if you went to China and all you had was squid eyes and catfish roe and dirt patties for a week, I could cut you some slack on posting up at KFC. But you're on an Intra-American trip, I'm pretty strict on this. NO CHAINS.]
[Second disclaimer - In the interests of exploration and reportage, I did hit up Supermac's last time I was in Ireland, which is like the Irish equivalent of McDonald's. Terrible. But none of the food in Ireland is any good. Well, there was this vegetable soup at this pub in Gerrykennedy that was really really good. But that's about it.]
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Bachelorette: Finally, somebody gets seriously injured
So we're still in Thailand and it seems that we're moving the whole operation to Chiang Mai, which features "many relaxing bars, several discotheques, live music venues and one street with hostess bars which cater to tourists." The Douche Alliance is installed in some faux colonial dump w/ Thai restaurant music and we see Ashley Chipmunk walking along and we're 4 minutes in before we get our first voiceover mention of Bentley, who continues to infect this show like malaria or fire ants.
He wishes he could kick her off the fucking show and I do too. Let's bring in Chantal from last season to do some mop up because this bitch crazy.
Solo date with Ben F., "Sonoma winemaker," who really does look like one of the late stages in an "Evolution of Man" exhibit at the Natural History Museum. They take one of those DPT Cushman mobiles into town and visit the "Umbrella Making Centre," where I guess tourists can simulate producing consumer goods for America for 50 cents an hour. Then they sit in front of a Very Sacred Thai Temple where they're apparently not allowed to make out, so Chipmunk suggests they do a "mental kiss" and this is where The Wife said "This is like a fucking high school......oh...ugh, ugh....."
Cut to the Nighttime Part of the date. She's wearing a romper made out of a very ugly tablecloth. They have your usual Outdoor Dinner at some Thai place. He gets the #14 and then blabs on and on and on and on about his Dad dying and his feelings and whatever blah blah blah even Chipmunk looks bored until the Fire Dancers and Fire Breathers come out and she's like THANK GOD I don't have to listen to Mr. Here's Every Fucking Thing That's Ever Crossed My Mind any more.
Group Date. 8 douches will enter the ring and sadly 8 will leave. It seems that we are doing Muay Thai boxing, which sounds GREAT to me because someone might be killed or paralyzed and then I'll like this show again. They do some crazy Muay Thai workout for like 8 hours and Ames is all "Not the face, please! Not my beautiful face!" They divvy up some boxing gear and get in the ring in some public square in front of a bunch of Thai people who are all "Who are these fuckers and why won't they hurt each other? Fuck."
You just know Ames is going to get killed because he's a Delicate Flower and YEP he gets knocked around and is led to an ambulance and whisked away to a Thai ER room where I guess some powdered rhinoceros horn and some spells will fix him right up. Later, at the Nighttime Portion of the Group Date, Ames makes a dramatic reappearance and I think his "Portfolio Manager" career might be over unless the portfolio is Care Bears stickers because he looks fucked up real bad. Meanwhile, in a solo interview, William inexplicably says "Who has 2 thumbs and is gonna win the rose on the 2 on 1 date? This guy," pointing at himself because I guess Ashley made it clear she was only marrying guys with 2 thumbs. Ashley mentions Bentley about 12 more times and gives Generic Man Blake a rose.
DOUBLE BRO DATE. William and Ben C. raft Chipmunk down a river like it's "Apocalypse Now" or something and William talks all kinds of shit about how Ben C. said he'll "clean up" on those "dating websites" and fucking Chipmunk is just like REALLY OH THAT'S BAD and fucking gets rid of Ben C. RIGHT THEN. Like why would you believe that superdouche? Why does this girl do these things? Who knows. Oh wait, she says she didn't like him anyway. He gets the Emo Raft-Away instead of the Emo Limo-Away.
We segue into yet another Outdoor Dinner, this time with William. He gives everyone major creeps by saying he's a "30 year old boy" and she tells him to GTFO. Back to your fun life selling cell phones to a gullible mall-going public.
OK, back at the resort for the Pre-Rose. Chipmunk sits down with Chris Harrison and wants to talk about Bentley. Chris Harrison is just as pissed about this as all of us.
He wishes he could kick her off the fucking show and I do too. Let's bring in Chantal from last season to do some mop up because this bitch crazy.
Soul Patch Guy gets cut. I can't remember his name. You don't care anyway. Why didn't Ames get cut? The Wife knows: "You can't put him on a plane. His head would explode." I feel the same way.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
This week's Your Free iTunes Downloads Reviews
Not a good week. Lots of subpar electropop, plus yet another song in Spanish that I don't feel qualified to judge. Let's get started.
Andy Grammer, "Miss Me"
You've heard this song a million times before. It sounds like the background music in a commercial for visiting Nevada or something. It's super-clean and shiny and totally devoid of life. This will show up in a Kate Hudson romcom during the "we broke up and I'm sad and moping around the house" montage towards the end.
Owl City, "Deer in the Headlights"
Ugh, this is terrible. It's like they didn't even put any effort into it. Just string together some synth effects and any melody that pops into your head and call it a day. Are all their songs this bad? No wonder people hate them so much. Fuck this.
Jadakiss, "Hold You Down" (f/ Emmany)
Seriously, I was really liking Jada at the beginning and then WHAM we get hit with the totally predictable R&B chorus. Why you gotta mess up a perfectly good rap song by cutting and pasting a Destiny's Child chorus in the middle of it? Oh well, guess "Emmany" needs to work too.
Ziggy Marley, "Forward to Love"
Really, Ziggy? This is what you're doing? This isn't any good, even by reggae standards. I mean, it seriously sounds like something some white college kids put together after listening to "Legend" for a whole semester.
Junior Boys, "Itchy Fingers"
WOW THIS IS SO BORING.
Here are some sentences you might hear when this is playing in the background:
"The dentist will see you now."
"Your call is very important to us. Please continue to hold and we will be with you shortly."
"Welcome to T.J. McGillicudy's! My name is Cody and I'll be your server today."
"This sure is a good song, Mark Sanchez!"
Justice, "Civilization"
The video, which seems to involve a herd of bison trying to keep from getting crushed by falling statutes, is far more interesting than the song. Poor bison. I thought Justice was supposed to be good? This isn't very good.
Sie7e, "Tengo tu love"
I'm kind of uncomfortable judging songs sung mostly in Spanish because I don't really know enough about the genres to know what I'm talking about. This is some kind of vaguely reggae-ish thing where the guy uses some English words like "love" and "black card" and whatever, I'm not the right person to ask.
THE VERDICT:Even though they're all free, nothing worth downloading this week. Unless you happen to love terrible electropop. Seriously, Owl City must be stopped, for the good of music.
Andy Grammer, "Miss Me"
You've heard this song a million times before. It sounds like the background music in a commercial for visiting Nevada or something. It's super-clean and shiny and totally devoid of life. This will show up in a Kate Hudson romcom during the "we broke up and I'm sad and moping around the house" montage towards the end.
Owl City, "Deer in the Headlights"
Ugh, this is terrible. It's like they didn't even put any effort into it. Just string together some synth effects and any melody that pops into your head and call it a day. Are all their songs this bad? No wonder people hate them so much. Fuck this.
Jadakiss, "Hold You Down" (f/ Emmany)
Seriously, I was really liking Jada at the beginning and then WHAM we get hit with the totally predictable R&B chorus. Why you gotta mess up a perfectly good rap song by cutting and pasting a Destiny's Child chorus in the middle of it? Oh well, guess "Emmany" needs to work too.
Ziggy Marley, "Forward to Love"
Really, Ziggy? This is what you're doing? This isn't any good, even by reggae standards. I mean, it seriously sounds like something some white college kids put together after listening to "Legend" for a whole semester.
Junior Boys, "Itchy Fingers"
WOW THIS IS SO BORING.
Here are some sentences you might hear when this is playing in the background:
"The dentist will see you now."
"Your call is very important to us. Please continue to hold and we will be with you shortly."
"Welcome to T.J. McGillicudy's! My name is Cody and I'll be your server today."
"This sure is a good song, Mark Sanchez!"
Justice, "Civilization"
The video, which seems to involve a herd of bison trying to keep from getting crushed by falling statutes, is far more interesting than the song. Poor bison. I thought Justice was supposed to be good? This isn't very good.
Sie7e, "Tengo tu love"
I'm kind of uncomfortable judging songs sung mostly in Spanish because I don't really know enough about the genres to know what I'm talking about. This is some kind of vaguely reggae-ish thing where the guy uses some English words like "love" and "black card" and whatever, I'm not the right person to ask.
THE VERDICT:Even though they're all free, nothing worth downloading this week. Unless you happen to love terrible electropop. Seriously, Owl City must be stopped, for the good of music.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Joel Kinnaman is a great actor but is also lying about something
This is sort of going to be about "The Killing" on AMC, but sort of not also. I know that some of you are watching and enjoying it. We are too. A lot of critics appear to be very mad about this show, and I agree with some of the criticisms; there have been some ridiculous coincidences, and the fantasy that the general public breathlessly follows a mayoral election is laughable, and so on, and so on, but in general, I'd say that we're enjoying it, for what it's worth.
Now let's talk about Joel Kinnaman for a second. He's an actor from Sweden who plays one of the two detectives, and I think he's the best thing about the show. He's kind of a dirtbag former juvenile delinquent recovering meth addict who happens to be a police detective, and he has this air of quiet menace and danger that makes him far and away the most interesting character on the show. It's really worth watching just for him.
(Kinnaman also has a pretty amazing backstory - raised in Stockholm by an American expat father who had kids with a bunch of different women and so forth.)
ANYWAY, there was this interview with Kinnaman on Salon.com that is totally worth reading and really interesting and in which he blatantly lies to us at one point:
BZZZZZT!!!! You're lying, Joel Kinnaman. Know how I know you're lying? Because look what happens when you GOOGLE YOUR OWN NAME:
You see that? Fuck Yeah Joel Kinnaman is the FOURTH FUCKING RESULT. And you've never heard of it? BULLSHIT. Actors are some of the most self-centered narcissistic people on the planet. They probably Google themselves DAILY or HOURLY. And Joel's never noticed the FOURTH MOST POPULAR RESULT?
In other Joel Kinnaman news, he only has 440 followers on Twitter! I have more than that! I feel bad for him now. Let's all follow him on Twitter.
This has been your Joel Kinnaman news for the day.
(This post will probably be in the Top 10 results for his name soon. HI JOEL KINNAMAN! NO HARD FEELINGS!)
Now let's talk about Joel Kinnaman for a second. He's an actor from Sweden who plays one of the two detectives, and I think he's the best thing about the show. He's kind of a dirtbag former juvenile delinquent recovering meth addict who happens to be a police detective, and he has this air of quiet menace and danger that makes him far and away the most interesting character on the show. It's really worth watching just for him.
(Kinnaman also has a pretty amazing backstory - raised in Stockholm by an American expat father who had kids with a bunch of different women and so forth.)
ANYWAY, there was this interview with Kinnaman on Salon.com that is totally worth reading and really interesting and in which he blatantly lies to us at one point:
Are you familiar with the Tumblr "Fuck Yeah Joel Kinnaman"?
[laughs] No, I am not.
BZZZZZT!!!! You're lying, Joel Kinnaman. Know how I know you're lying? Because look what happens when you GOOGLE YOUR OWN NAME:
You see that? Fuck Yeah Joel Kinnaman is the FOURTH FUCKING RESULT. And you've never heard of it? BULLSHIT. Actors are some of the most self-centered narcissistic people on the planet. They probably Google themselves DAILY or HOURLY. And Joel's never noticed the FOURTH MOST POPULAR RESULT?
In other Joel Kinnaman news, he only has 440 followers on Twitter! I have more than that! I feel bad for him now. Let's all follow him on Twitter.
This has been your Joel Kinnaman news for the day.
(This post will probably be in the Top 10 results for his name soon. HI JOEL KINNAMAN! NO HARD FEELINGS!)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Get up close and personal with some Germans
This morning I espied this thing on the way to work:
What the? The only Rotel I know is a brand of delicious diced tomatoes with green chiles, and since no one appeared to be handing out queso dip and chips, I had to investigate further.
Guess what? Rotel Tours is actually a bus/hotel thing that people (and by "people," I mean "Germans," apparently) tour around in during the day and sleep in at night. The Rotel website is in German, so unless you know what "eingesetzten Fahrzeugen gleich" means, it won't be much help, but here's a descrip from something called "Gizmag":
You lost me at "semi-private sleeping quarters," but I'm not German, so I don't know about these things. Here's a pic, from Rotel's website:
Look at the happy Germans! They undt der scheeing Nordamerika in der klassiche style. Wait, what is that peeking out from under the covers on the left there? Never mind, I don't want to know. God only knows what Germans do in semi-private sleeping quarters.
You know what? I was thinking, in all fairness, it actually sounds kinda fun, tooling around in the sleeper bus, seeing the country, making new friends and whatnot. Then I came to this part:
You know when passengers become "too funky"? After the first fucking foray outside the goddam bus. You're all good for the first hour of your 6-week trip, and after that, you better become quickly used to German B.O. Pass.
What the? The only Rotel I know is a brand of delicious diced tomatoes with green chiles, and since no one appeared to be handing out queso dip and chips, I had to investigate further.Guess what? Rotel Tours is actually a bus/hotel thing that people (and by "people," I mean "Germans," apparently) tour around in during the day and sleep in at night. The Rotel website is in German, so unless you know what "eingesetzten Fahrzeugen gleich" means, it won't be much help, but here's a descrip from something called "Gizmag":
The Rotel rolls a coach and hotel into one unit (or for larger groups, a bus and tag-along sleeping quarters). By day passengers sit in the front of the coach and take in all the sights, and by night they adjourn to the rear of the vehicle to enjoy their semi-private sleeping quarters.
You lost me at "semi-private sleeping quarters," but I'm not German, so I don't know about these things. Here's a pic, from Rotel's website:
Look at the happy Germans! They undt der scheeing Nordamerika in der klassiche style. Wait, what is that peeking out from under the covers on the left there? Never mind, I don't want to know. God only knows what Germans do in semi-private sleeping quarters.
You know what? I was thinking, in all fairness, it actually sounds kinda fun, tooling around in the sleeper bus, seeing the country, making new friends and whatnot. Then I came to this part:
Though the lack of showers and bathing facilities may test you if you were expecting five-star luxury, the Rotel does include an extensive drop-down "camp kitchen" and a single toilet. The coaches also stop whenever possible at campgrounds with bathing facilities to ensure the passengers don't become too funky.
You know when passengers become "too funky"? After the first fucking foray outside the goddam bus. You're all good for the first hour of your 6-week trip, and after that, you better become quickly used to German B.O. Pass.
Friday, April 29, 2011
The Grand Unified Conspiracy Theory
In 1977, Jimmy Carter used the Philadelphia Experiment to travel back in time and take two dinosaur eggs from fellow Illuminatus Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello home. He put one of the eggs on the Roswell UFO and sent it to England and stored the other one in a janitorial closet in the basement of the Washington Monument. One of the eggs hatched in 1926 and became Queen Elizabeth II.
Years later, Franklin Roosevelt and the Bilderberg Group engineered Pearl Harbor to benefit International Paper, who would make the ration books used during the war. It was around this time that Moses appeared to L. Ron Hubbard and gave him a microfilm that contained all Scientific Knowledge in the Universe. Unfortunately, Hubbard ate part of the microfilm, thinking it was blotter acid, and mistranslated the rest. This would be the basis of Scientology.
After the war, David Rockefeller and the Trilateral Commission invented Jell-O as a mind control substance. When Jell-O proved ineffective, they switched tactics and began implanting subliminal messages in episodes of “Gunsmoke” and in Petula Clark albums. John F. Kennedy accidentally learned of the backward making operation and so Dean Martin was sent to kill him. Dean Martin is an alien. Lee Harvey Oswald just happened to be there. Jack Ruby accidentally shot Lee Harvey Oswald when he was supposed to shoot the startled-looking guy next to him, who was also an alien. This has nothing to do with the rest of this stuff; it was just some unrelated alien-on-alien violence.
In 1961, the second dinosaur egg hatched and Obama was born. Ironically, the egg had just been with Rockefeller in Kenya when Rockefeller was there on safari, but the egg actually hatched in the main galley of a TWA flight from Kinshasa to Montreal. When it was later learned that there may have been some alien egg residue left on the plane, it was shot down when it was flying as TWA Flight 800. The Masons decided to have a Hawaiian birth certificate prepared because the original plan was to make Hawaii and independent kingdom and Obama would be the King of Waikiki. This plan was abandoned when that title was used for a 1978 Burt Reynolds comedy that flopped at the box office.
The moon landing actually happened just as NASA reported. However, Neil Armstrong lost the film on the way home and the whole thing had to be recreated. To do this, all the Apollo 11 astronauts actually went right back to the moon and filmed the whole thing over again. There were also some aliens there too.
Most of the main Illuminati and aliens were running AT&T. They wanted AT&T broken up because one of the aliens spilled a full glass of wine on Nikola Tesla at a party in Hoboken in 1981 and there was a whole big thing about it and everyone was pissed. This ruined Tesla’s plan for him and Regis Philbin to control people by using high-intensity microbursts. Later, Tesla and Philbin invented a new people control technology, but it has only a short effective range. They are currently planning to install 726 mind control boxes in San Francisco to test the new technology.
Flouride is perfectly harmless and is effective at reducing tooth decay. However, the Council on Foreign Relations spread rumors that it is harmful pretty much just for kicks.
In 1982, Obama died in a Coca-Cola and Pop Rocks accident. He was replaced by an identical, but slightly less cool, copy.
Tupac Shakur faked his own death to pursue his real interest in professional football scouting. He actually died under mysterious circumstances in 2007 after advising the San Francisco 49ers to draft Alex Smith with the first overall pick of the 2005 NFL draft.
Years later, Franklin Roosevelt and the Bilderberg Group engineered Pearl Harbor to benefit International Paper, who would make the ration books used during the war. It was around this time that Moses appeared to L. Ron Hubbard and gave him a microfilm that contained all Scientific Knowledge in the Universe. Unfortunately, Hubbard ate part of the microfilm, thinking it was blotter acid, and mistranslated the rest. This would be the basis of Scientology.
After the war, David Rockefeller and the Trilateral Commission invented Jell-O as a mind control substance. When Jell-O proved ineffective, they switched tactics and began implanting subliminal messages in episodes of “Gunsmoke” and in Petula Clark albums. John F. Kennedy accidentally learned of the backward making operation and so Dean Martin was sent to kill him. Dean Martin is an alien. Lee Harvey Oswald just happened to be there. Jack Ruby accidentally shot Lee Harvey Oswald when he was supposed to shoot the startled-looking guy next to him, who was also an alien. This has nothing to do with the rest of this stuff; it was just some unrelated alien-on-alien violence.
Whoops.
In 1961, the second dinosaur egg hatched and Obama was born. Ironically, the egg had just been with Rockefeller in Kenya when Rockefeller was there on safari, but the egg actually hatched in the main galley of a TWA flight from Kinshasa to Montreal. When it was later learned that there may have been some alien egg residue left on the plane, it was shot down when it was flying as TWA Flight 800. The Masons decided to have a Hawaiian birth certificate prepared because the original plan was to make Hawaii and independent kingdom and Obama would be the King of Waikiki. This plan was abandoned when that title was used for a 1978 Burt Reynolds comedy that flopped at the box office.
The moon landing actually happened just as NASA reported. However, Neil Armstrong lost the film on the way home and the whole thing had to be recreated. To do this, all the Apollo 11 astronauts actually went right back to the moon and filmed the whole thing over again. There were also some aliens there too.
Most of the main Illuminati and aliens were running AT&T. They wanted AT&T broken up because one of the aliens spilled a full glass of wine on Nikola Tesla at a party in Hoboken in 1981 and there was a whole big thing about it and everyone was pissed. This ruined Tesla’s plan for him and Regis Philbin to control people by using high-intensity microbursts. Later, Tesla and Philbin invented a new people control technology, but it has only a short effective range. They are currently planning to install 726 mind control boxes in San Francisco to test the new technology.
Caution: Mind Control Box. (Photo courtesy of the SF Appeal, which is controlled by the Bohemian Club and Italian Freemasons.)
Flouride is perfectly harmless and is effective at reducing tooth decay. However, the Council on Foreign Relations spread rumors that it is harmful pretty much just for kicks.
In 1982, Obama died in a Coca-Cola and Pop Rocks accident. He was replaced by an identical, but slightly less cool, copy.
Tupac Shakur faked his own death to pursue his real interest in professional football scouting. He actually died under mysterious circumstances in 2007 after advising the San Francisco 49ers to draft Alex Smith with the first overall pick of the 2005 NFL draft.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
It's not a party without American Red Cups
Because of the crumbling Irish economy, each Irish citizen living in the US is required, by Irish law, to take in another Irish citizen and support him or her until conditions improve. Thus, we have a Girl From Ireland staying with us in our house.
Nah, I'm just shitting you. The GFI is actually The Wife's oldest friend since childhood, and she's staying with us voluntarily. Actually, I agreed to it when I was drunk and would never have otherwise consented to having a houseguest for 5 weeks but The Wife is good at taking advantage of me. I'm sorta kidding. I mean, GFI is perfectly nice and just as plucky and charming as you might imagine but having anyone in your house for 5 weeks is kind of a drag. Whatever, they're in Vegas right now and I'm revelling in the time alone.
Wait, this had a point. Oh yeah. So one of the benefits of having the GFI around is hearing about the Strange and Bizarre Customs of Her Land, and the one I'm impressed with most so far is the deep Irish need for American Red Cups at parties. (In all fairness, this seems to be a British-Isles-wide phenomenon, and not restricted to Ireland alone.) You know what I'm talking about:
So apparently having red Solo cups is the key to having a successful party in Ireland or Britain because, I don't know, they're American or something. Check it out:
You do see them in every American high school film! That's true! Anyway, as capitalism teaches, every untapped market will eventually be filled. And to fill the American Red Cup market, there's Redcups.ie, your premiere Irish source for American Red Cups! Behold:
20 cups for €4.50 (plus €2 delivery). That's right, for only about $9.20, your Irish pals can party like Desperate Housewives!
Note that the same plastic cups are widely available in white in Britain. White's no good! Remember this whenever people say Americans are weird.
Nah, I'm just shitting you. The GFI is actually The Wife's oldest friend since childhood, and she's staying with us voluntarily. Actually, I agreed to it when I was drunk and would never have otherwise consented to having a houseguest for 5 weeks but The Wife is good at taking advantage of me. I'm sorta kidding. I mean, GFI is perfectly nice and just as plucky and charming as you might imagine but having anyone in your house for 5 weeks is kind of a drag. Whatever, they're in Vegas right now and I'm revelling in the time alone.
Wait, this had a point. Oh yeah. So one of the benefits of having the GFI around is hearing about the Strange and Bizarre Customs of Her Land, and the one I'm impressed with most so far is the deep Irish need for American Red Cups at parties. (In all fairness, this seems to be a British-Isles-wide phenomenon, and not restricted to Ireland alone.) You know what I'm talking about:
So apparently having red Solo cups is the key to having a successful party in Ireland or Britain because, I don't know, they're American or something. Check it out:
You do see them in every American high school film! That's true! Anyway, as capitalism teaches, every untapped market will eventually be filled. And to fill the American Red Cup market, there's Redcups.ie, your premiere Irish source for American Red Cups! Behold:
The Red Cup has been made world famous by its appearence in films and sitcoms such as Desperate Housewives, Superbad, Roadtrip, American Pie, The Social Network, The Hills and music videos by Black Eyed Peas, Fergie, Pharrell Williams, Asher Roth and Ke$ha.
20 cups for €4.50 (plus €2 delivery). That's right, for only about $9.20, your Irish pals can party like Desperate Housewives!
Note that the same plastic cups are widely available in white in Britain. White's no good! Remember this whenever people say Americans are weird.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Moammar Gadhafi predicts the Oscars
BEST PICTURE
This…this “Black Swan,” it is too much. “Toy Story” make me cry. Make Moammar cry! I have it killed for that. You have seen “Winter’s Bone”? What is “Winter’s Bone”?
Moammar say “Social Network.” I COMMAND IT.
BEST ACTOR
Javier Bardem? JAVIER BARDEM? How DARE he challenge 1000-year reign of Moammar! MOAMMAR BEST ACTOR. All others pretenders. Plus, Jesse Eisenberg too young. Still seem like "Superbad" to Moammar. Academy like serious. Not like Jesse Eisenberg.
BEST ACTRESS
Annette Bening too showy for Moammar. Nicole Kidman? What Nicole Kidman do this year? BRING NATALIE PORTMAN TO MOAMMAR AT ONCE. What? She carry another man’s baby? Kill him.
COSTUME DESIGN
MOAMMAR.
This…this “Black Swan,” it is too much. “Toy Story” make me cry. Make Moammar cry! I have it killed for that. You have seen “Winter’s Bone”? What is “Winter’s Bone”?
Moammar say “Social Network.” I COMMAND IT.
BEST ACTOR
Javier Bardem? JAVIER BARDEM? How DARE he challenge 1000-year reign of Moammar! MOAMMAR BEST ACTOR. All others pretenders. Plus, Jesse Eisenberg too young. Still seem like "Superbad" to Moammar. Academy like serious. Not like Jesse Eisenberg.
BEST ACTRESS
Annette Bening too showy for Moammar. Nicole Kidman? What Nicole Kidman do this year? BRING NATALIE PORTMAN TO MOAMMAR AT ONCE. What? She carry another man’s baby? Kill him.
COSTUME DESIGN
MOAMMAR.
DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Moammar love Banksy. “Restrepo” good because it make Great Satan America look bad. But Banksy win.
ORIGINAL SONG
Moammar say “Country Strong” look stupid but Moammar like Gwyneth Paltrow to look stupid. Did Randy Newman write any song? Whatever song Randy Newman write wins.
FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
Ha! Moammar film “Greatest Glory to Moammar and Kingdom of Libya; Moammar Will Reign 1000 Years” will surely win. WHAT! MOAMMAR NOT NOMINATED! Death to all Foreign Language Film nominees! Death to Academy! Probably "Dogtooth" then.
ART DIRECTION
Who cares?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
This blog post is at Threat Level Heather Grey
EXHALE. FINALLY. We are no longer at THREAT LEVEL ORANGE:
Well, thank God for that. I know I've been in a state of TOTAL PANIC AND FEAR since we went to Threat Level Orange in 2006. Oh, wait, it was yellow. Unless you're flying. Then it's Orange. Unless it's Delta. Then it's Red. Just kidding. I've been in a state of total panic and fear my whole life. The threat of being blowed up was a nice break in the day for me.
The whole Threat Level thing now seems like such an artifact from the Early Aughts when we were busy buying duct tape and plastci sheeting and alerting the authorities anytime someone in a turban was in front of us in line at BK. It was obviously part of the government's hamhanded attempts to keep us in abject terror all the time. It worked on some people! They're just watching Glenn Beck now.
Wait, I had another point to make. What was it. Oh, right, it's this: There is absolutely, without a doubt, going to be another terrorist attack in our lifetimes. That's because (1) there are terrorists, and (2) they're crazy and want to be on the news. Also, our foreign policy increases the risk of terrorism. Oh, that was stupid! ANYWAY, point being, there's no way to be 100% safe from terrorist attack, even though that's what we expect of our government and what we impliedly hope we're getting by subjecting ourselve to the ridiculous Security Theater at the airport and whatnot. Hell, you're more likely to die by falling than die in a terrorist attack.
So what are we replacing our Threat Level Peach system with? Obviously, we won't want to scare people or anything, right? Right?
Oh, that's just fucking great. Now we have two choices: "Elevated Threat" and "You Are All Going to Die So Say Goodbye to Your Loved Ones Right Now." Much better.
Starting Thursday, the Homeland Security Department will begin phasing out the nation's color-coded terror-threat system, ending it entirely by April 27, officials tell the Associated Press. The five-tiered warnings were created after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks. The "national threat level" has not changed since 2006 -- yellow, or "elevated," the middle rating. For all domestic and international flights, it has been one level up at orange, or "high."
Well, thank God for that. I know I've been in a state of TOTAL PANIC AND FEAR since we went to Threat Level Orange in 2006. Oh, wait, it was yellow. Unless you're flying. Then it's Orange. Unless it's Delta. Then it's Red. Just kidding. I've been in a state of total panic and fear my whole life. The threat of being blowed up was a nice break in the day for me.
The whole Threat Level thing now seems like such an artifact from the Early Aughts when we were busy buying duct tape and plastci sheeting and alerting the authorities anytime someone in a turban was in front of us in line at BK. It was obviously part of the government's hamhanded attempts to keep us in abject terror all the time. It worked on some people! They're just watching Glenn Beck now.
Wait, I had another point to make. What was it. Oh, right, it's this: There is absolutely, without a doubt, going to be another terrorist attack in our lifetimes. That's because (1) there are terrorists, and (2) they're crazy and want to be on the news. Also, our foreign policy increases the risk of terrorism. Oh, that was stupid! ANYWAY, point being, there's no way to be 100% safe from terrorist attack, even though that's what we expect of our government and what we impliedly hope we're getting by subjecting ourselve to the ridiculous Security Theater at the airport and whatnot. Hell, you're more likely to die by falling than die in a terrorist attack.
So what are we replacing our Threat Level Peach system with? Obviously, we won't want to scare people or anything, right? Right?
The Obama administration plans to replace the widely mocked color-coded terror warnings with a simpler, two-tier system: “imminent threat” or “elevated threat,” with more detailed information.
Oh, that's just fucking great. Now we have two choices: "Elevated Threat" and "You Are All Going to Die So Say Goodbye to Your Loved Ones Right Now." Much better.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
A short story based on today's Trending Topics for San Francisco, at around 9:00 a.m.
Jim Harbaugh was upset. He paced his office, fuming, then grabbed his iPhone 3GS and called Vince Young, whom he findly referred to as “Huckleberry Finn,” for reasons neither of them could remember.
“Vince,” Harbaugh said. “Did you see these god damned People’s Choice Awards?”
“Maybe,” said Vince Young. “What’s up?”
“Well,” Harbaugh fumed, “I was watching and the category for Favorite Constitution came up. Can you fucking believe this shit? Britain was nominated?”
“Great Britain doesn’t have a written constitution,” Vince Young said. “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”
“No, Vince Young, I’ve never been more sober,” Harbaugh said. “So did you see who won?”
“Was it the Netherlands?,” Vince Young asked.
“Japan!,” Harbaugh yelled. “And their constitution only dates to 1947!”
Vince Young shook his head. “Just seems wrong. Anyway, who won for Favorite Pseudonymous American Author?”
“Mark Twain,” Harbaugh replied. “But he wins about every year. At least the years that Ellery Queen doesn’t win.”
Vince Young sighed. “Anyway, #Whats4Breakfast?”
“What did you say?,” Harbaugh asked. “Did you just say ‘Hashtag what’s for breakfast,’ all strung together really fast?”
“Maybe,” Vince Young said. “#ces.”
“Vince,” Harbaugh said. “Did you see these god damned People’s Choice Awards?”
“Maybe,” said Vince Young. “What’s up?”
“Well,” Harbaugh fumed, “I was watching and the category for Favorite Constitution came up. Can you fucking believe this shit? Britain was nominated?”
“Great Britain doesn’t have a written constitution,” Vince Young said. “What are you talking about? Are you drunk?”
“No, Vince Young, I’ve never been more sober,” Harbaugh said. “So did you see who won?”
“Was it the Netherlands?,” Vince Young asked.
“Japan!,” Harbaugh yelled. “And their constitution only dates to 1947!”
Vince Young shook his head. “Just seems wrong. Anyway, who won for Favorite Pseudonymous American Author?”
“Mark Twain,” Harbaugh replied. “But he wins about every year. At least the years that Ellery Queen doesn’t win.”
Vince Young sighed. “Anyway, #Whats4Breakfast?”
“What did you say?,” Harbaugh asked. “Did you just say ‘Hashtag what’s for breakfast,’ all strung together really fast?”
“Maybe,” Vince Young said. “#ces.”
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Here's another restaurant review, like you give a shit
No one's reading this. You're all stuck with your parents somewhere trying desperately to get a flight to JFK because you're about to freak out and kill them or you're home waking and baking and watching Maury (SPOILER: In the case of Charmaine, YOU ARE NOT THE FATHER) or you're in Tahoe or God knows what else. You're not at work, which is where you'd be reading this under normal conditions. That's OK. I understand.
Last night was Moms' final night here in SF and she got it in her head that she wanted Burmese food, probably because that sounded like it would make a good story for her friends back in Arizona about Crazy Shit They Eat in SF. So I made a reservation at Mandalay to get our Burmese on.
DIGRESSION #1: Shouldn't it be called "Myanmarese" food now? I guess that's too hard to pronounce and plus we're sticking with "Burma" as a protest against the current junta or something.
DIGRESSION #2: I know you're inwardly screaming "Why didn't you go to Burma Super Star??!?!??," you little food-obsessed foodie snob. I'll tell you why. Last time I went to BSS I waited an hour and a half for what's essentially Thai food with different names. So fuck that. I made reservations at Mandalay that day, no problem. Reservations are an extremely good idea, as we will see.
Mandalay was fine. My impressions are: (1) The food's pretty good. Maybe really good. We had some noodle stuff that was pretty great and also Sizzling Beef which was exactly what it sounds like and also Mango Prawns which I didn't taste. I'm not super-into prawns. (2) Everything took a very long time. (3) It was FUCKING CROWDED, like jam packed.
What is the deal with this town and the fucking Burmese food? There was a crowd standing by the front door looking like they were going to leap on us and rip the fucking Nan Gyi Dok right out of our hands. Clumped together by the door, anxiously staring at the hostess each time she went to the clipboard. Jesus Christ, people, just go to one of the 2,786 Thai restuarants in this town. It's basically the same fucking food. And this is on a Monday night. I mean, really?
So yeah, if you have reservations and happen to be in the area, I guess it's worth going to. But if you're one of those people waiting an hour, took a long hard look at yourself and ask why. "WHYYYYY," ask yourself. "WHYYYY AM I DOING THIS." Then go get some Thai food like a rational human being.
Last night was Moms' final night here in SF and she got it in her head that she wanted Burmese food, probably because that sounded like it would make a good story for her friends back in Arizona about Crazy Shit They Eat in SF. So I made a reservation at Mandalay to get our Burmese on.
DIGRESSION #1: Shouldn't it be called "Myanmarese" food now? I guess that's too hard to pronounce and plus we're sticking with "Burma" as a protest against the current junta or something.
DIGRESSION #2: I know you're inwardly screaming "Why didn't you go to Burma Super Star??!?!??," you little food-obsessed foodie snob. I'll tell you why. Last time I went to BSS I waited an hour and a half for what's essentially Thai food with different names. So fuck that. I made reservations at Mandalay that day, no problem. Reservations are an extremely good idea, as we will see.
Mandalay was fine. My impressions are: (1) The food's pretty good. Maybe really good. We had some noodle stuff that was pretty great and also Sizzling Beef which was exactly what it sounds like and also Mango Prawns which I didn't taste. I'm not super-into prawns. (2) Everything took a very long time. (3) It was FUCKING CROWDED, like jam packed.
What is the deal with this town and the fucking Burmese food? There was a crowd standing by the front door looking like they were going to leap on us and rip the fucking Nan Gyi Dok right out of our hands. Clumped together by the door, anxiously staring at the hostess each time she went to the clipboard. Jesus Christ, people, just go to one of the 2,786 Thai restuarants in this town. It's basically the same fucking food. And this is on a Monday night. I mean, really?
So yeah, if you have reservations and happen to be in the area, I guess it's worth going to. But if you're one of those people waiting an hour, took a long hard look at yourself and ask why. "WHYYYYY," ask yourself. "WHYYYY AM I DOING THIS." Then go get some Thai food like a rational human being.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Here's my explanation of why professional sports are satisfying and necessary
"There's some part of our reptilian brain that needs to conquer and dominate others. It's hard-wired into us. We used to satisfy this intense, unstoppable urge by actually conquering and dominating others. But now we have evolved and don't do that as much as we used to. So, even though it would be incredibly satisfying and rewarding for all of us to march on Dallas, burn it to the ground, sew the soil with salt so nothing ever grows there again, sell the citizenry into slavery, and take their gold and HDTVs, our society frowns on that kind of thing. So instead, we assemble a team of surrogates to represent our city-state and we give them a fearsome name like 'Giants' and we send them forth to do our conquering for us. And now there is only ritual humiliation and defeat, but it's all we've got and we enjoy it nonetheless. That's why we have professional sports.
"Also, two or more guys can't sit around and drink beer and talk. There has to be something on in the background. Televised sporting events enable male friendship to exist without awkwardness."
"Also, two or more guys can't sit around and drink beer and talk. There has to be something on in the background. Televised sporting events enable male friendship to exist without awkwardness."
Monday, August 23, 2010
Mad Men #5: Riding the Honda
This episode was all about masturbation and Peggy riding a Honda motorcycle in a circle, although not at the same time.
So here’s what I want to know: Which sitcom is missing a sassy, wisecracking old secretary? Because Miss Blankenship seems like she just wandered in from the set of “Rhoda" or something. Sure, she’s a hoot, but it’s weird. Anyway, tonight our main plot is about getting the Honda account. Pete likes it. Roger doesn’t like it because he was in WW II and is still mad. Bert likes it because he’s already a big fan of tentacle porn and sake bombs. Hey, I’ve got an idea about how to make this work for everybody! Get the account and then do an ad with a kamikaze motorcyclist! Win-win!
Don’s got the kids but he’s going out with Bethany so he gets Neighbor Nurse to do some babysitting. She doesn’t do a very good job and Sally gives herself what is actually a pretty fashion-forward, choppy kind of cut with a lot of layers. Sally is now eligible to become the lead singer in a Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover band. Unfortunately the Yeah Yeah Yeahs won’t be invented for another 40 years. Anyway, I guess cutting your own hair is the 1965 version of cutting. Sally’s a hot mess. I can’t wait for her to grow up and start smoking hella weed and banging every longhair with a guitar in sight. Don doesn’t share my artistic vision and is pissed about Sally’s new do. Whatever, Don, chillax. Just because Ted Chaoughaugh shit all over you at Benihana doesn’t mean that Sally’s not cool as shit.
January Jones is back in my life and all is well! Oh, she drunk again. That January Jones. Sally comes home and she slaps the kid! Jesus! If she did that to Don, they’d still be together. You’re slapping the wrong Draper, Betts!
Back at the office, the Japanese arrive and there’s some hijinx with the translations. Man, I love a good translation subtitle joke. That shit never fails. Pete’s handing out cantaloupes and Johnnie Walker when Roger comes in and blows up the whole deal. Wow, what a shitbird Roger is. You gotta let it go, man!
David McCallum from Man from U.N.C.L.E.: Hot or Not? Sally votes “hot.” Eww, gross, there is not going to be any way to get through this without it being super uncomfortable. OK, Sally gets busted…we’re going to need a euphemism here. Riding the Honda? Sally gets busted Riding the Honda. Other Mom rushes Sally home and rats her out to Betts. Time for more beatings! And finger removal surgery! Oh, Cryptkeeper has a little more perspective since he’s seen this kind of thing before over the last 150 years. He is a Calming Voice of Reason and we will send Sally to first of many, many mental health professionals she will be seeing during her life.
Next, we have a mini-Caper Movie within the show. Don has a Plan: they’re going to make Chaoughaugh think they’re working on something when they’re not! That’s what I do every single day at work! I would perfect for this! False leads are planted and there are meetings with directors and blahdeddy blah it all works because Don just Gets Shit Done.
Here comes Faye. She finally fucking says what everyone has been thinking for 3 years: “I don’t know how people drink the way you do around here.” She says this as she’s tossing back a little Lunchtime Sake with Don. Humorously, my Mom said the exact same thing last time she came to visit! Anyway, I have just about had it with Faye and Don not fucking. For Christ’s sakes, people, let’s get our shit together.
We will now wrap this up. Betty tells the therapist that she wishes Cryptkeeper had met her Dad, I guess because they could have traded Revolutionary War stories. Roger’s office looks like Lime, but without the bottomless mimosas and house music. SDCP somehow ends up with the Honda account and I’m not sure how it all went down but I think Don gave them a check for $3000 and that did it. Still no mention of the Rolling Stones.
So here’s what I want to know: Which sitcom is missing a sassy, wisecracking old secretary? Because Miss Blankenship seems like she just wandered in from the set of “Rhoda" or something. Sure, she’s a hoot, but it’s weird. Anyway, tonight our main plot is about getting the Honda account. Pete likes it. Roger doesn’t like it because he was in WW II and is still mad. Bert likes it because he’s already a big fan of tentacle porn and sake bombs. Hey, I’ve got an idea about how to make this work for everybody! Get the account and then do an ad with a kamikaze motorcyclist! Win-win!
Don’s got the kids but he’s going out with Bethany so he gets Neighbor Nurse to do some babysitting. She doesn’t do a very good job and Sally gives herself what is actually a pretty fashion-forward, choppy kind of cut with a lot of layers. Sally is now eligible to become the lead singer in a Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover band. Unfortunately the Yeah Yeah Yeahs won’t be invented for another 40 years. Anyway, I guess cutting your own hair is the 1965 version of cutting. Sally’s a hot mess. I can’t wait for her to grow up and start smoking hella weed and banging every longhair with a guitar in sight. Don doesn’t share my artistic vision and is pissed about Sally’s new do. Whatever, Don, chillax. Just because Ted Chaoughaugh shit all over you at Benihana doesn’t mean that Sally’s not cool as shit.
January Jones is back in my life and all is well! Oh, she drunk again. That January Jones. Sally comes home and she slaps the kid! Jesus! If she did that to Don, they’d still be together. You’re slapping the wrong Draper, Betts!
Back at the office, the Japanese arrive and there’s some hijinx with the translations. Man, I love a good translation subtitle joke. That shit never fails. Pete’s handing out cantaloupes and Johnnie Walker when Roger comes in and blows up the whole deal. Wow, what a shitbird Roger is. You gotta let it go, man!
David McCallum from Man from U.N.C.L.E.: Hot or Not? Sally votes “hot.” Eww, gross, there is not going to be any way to get through this without it being super uncomfortable. OK, Sally gets busted…we’re going to need a euphemism here. Riding the Honda? Sally gets busted Riding the Honda. Other Mom rushes Sally home and rats her out to Betts. Time for more beatings! And finger removal surgery! Oh, Cryptkeeper has a little more perspective since he’s seen this kind of thing before over the last 150 years. He is a Calming Voice of Reason and we will send Sally to first of many, many mental health professionals she will be seeing during her life.
Next, we have a mini-Caper Movie within the show. Don has a Plan: they’re going to make Chaoughaugh think they’re working on something when they’re not! That’s what I do every single day at work! I would perfect for this! False leads are planted and there are meetings with directors and blahdeddy blah it all works because Don just Gets Shit Done.
Here comes Faye. She finally fucking says what everyone has been thinking for 3 years: “I don’t know how people drink the way you do around here.” She says this as she’s tossing back a little Lunchtime Sake with Don. Humorously, my Mom said the exact same thing last time she came to visit! Anyway, I have just about had it with Faye and Don not fucking. For Christ’s sakes, people, let’s get our shit together.
We will now wrap this up. Betty tells the therapist that she wishes Cryptkeeper had met her Dad, I guess because they could have traded Revolutionary War stories. Roger’s office looks like Lime, but without the bottomless mimosas and house music. SDCP somehow ends up with the Honda account and I’m not sure how it all went down but I think Don gave them a check for $3000 and that did it. Still no mention of the Rolling Stones.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I have returned to the US now
A few observations from an all-inclusive resort in Los Cabos, Mexico:
- When you give people all the free booze they want, they take advantage of it. Amongst all the visibly drunk people, my favorite was the Overtanned Middle-Aged Blonde who tottered around, followed at a discreet distance by hotel staff trying to make sure she didn't faceplant in the shrubbery or pass out on the pathway, I assume. We saw her the next night, too, sitting there, her head repeatedly falling forward onto the bar. Girlfriend needs to learn a little about pacing.
- No one ever drinks pina coladas unless they're on vacation somewhere tropical, when some people only drink pina coladas. (Or pinas coladas, as the case may be).
- Gotta hand it to the staff, though; in the face of dealing with a shitload of drunk Ugly Americans, they were totally nice and cheerful and just as friendly as they could be.
One more thing, as I alluded to on Twitter yesterday: We went through immigration and customs in Phoenix. The very last step of this whole process is when a guy asks you if you've brought back any food and takes your customs form that you filled out on the plane. Anyway, as we got up to this last step, we were behind a Hispanic woman and her two kids and a luggage cart full of stuff. At the doorway, there's a faded red line on the floor and a sign that says "Wait behind red line until officer calls you forward." I don't know if she didn't see the sign or didn;t speak English or what, but the woman in front of us went over the red line by like three feet. The customs guy by the sign, who was either Hispanic or Asian (we couldn't figure it out) looks at us all disgusted and says "Guess they don't have stop signs where she's from."
WHAT. First of all, there was no stop sign, there was a faded red line on the floor. Second of all, what the fuck? There's a cheerful "Welcome to America!" for you. Third, I don't know, do they have stop signs where you're from? What a dick.
Anyway, Mad Men recap tomorrow, I guess.
- When you give people all the free booze they want, they take advantage of it. Amongst all the visibly drunk people, my favorite was the Overtanned Middle-Aged Blonde who tottered around, followed at a discreet distance by hotel staff trying to make sure she didn't faceplant in the shrubbery or pass out on the pathway, I assume. We saw her the next night, too, sitting there, her head repeatedly falling forward onto the bar. Girlfriend needs to learn a little about pacing.
- No one ever drinks pina coladas unless they're on vacation somewhere tropical, when some people only drink pina coladas. (Or pinas coladas, as the case may be).
- Gotta hand it to the staff, though; in the face of dealing with a shitload of drunk Ugly Americans, they were totally nice and cheerful and just as friendly as they could be.
One more thing, as I alluded to on Twitter yesterday: We went through immigration and customs in Phoenix. The very last step of this whole process is when a guy asks you if you've brought back any food and takes your customs form that you filled out on the plane. Anyway, as we got up to this last step, we were behind a Hispanic woman and her two kids and a luggage cart full of stuff. At the doorway, there's a faded red line on the floor and a sign that says "Wait behind red line until officer calls you forward." I don't know if she didn't see the sign or didn;t speak English or what, but the woman in front of us went over the red line by like three feet. The customs guy by the sign, who was either Hispanic or Asian (we couldn't figure it out) looks at us all disgusted and says "Guess they don't have stop signs where she's from."
WHAT. First of all, there was no stop sign, there was a faded red line on the floor. Second of all, what the fuck? There's a cheerful "Welcome to America!" for you. Third, I don't know, do they have stop signs where you're from? What a dick.
Anyway, Mad Men recap tomorrow, I guess.
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