Tuesday, May 29, 2012

I'm entirely sure, you're entirely sure, what I'm suggesting.

Interception!
Yet another of the million reasons I cannot wait to vote again for my President, Barack Obama -- I'll let Mr. Gleemonex take this one:

Which teen would you rather have grow up to be president? A guy who peacefully hangs with his friends hotboxing pakalolo or a dick who pins a guy down and forcefully cuts his hair off cuz he looks different and is probably gay?


On a slightly different but related note: We watched Obama on Fallon (finally), and it was awesome. But I wanna take a moment to discuss the futon that was in the cool-ass photo they discussed on air -- a young Barry, looking cool as shit with a small fro and a nice smile, sitting on a futon covered in (probably) a sheet, with a plant in the background (Fallon was like, "Lookit you, tryna be all grown up, class up the place with a plant!" Heh.). And I'm thinking: I will bet you one hundred dollars, cash American, that Mitt "Entitled Motherfuckin Gay-bashing Asstard" Romney has no fucking idea what a futon is. I mean that if you asked him to define the word, he could not get anywhere close; he would not even know that it belongs in the category "furniture." It works in reverse, too: If you showed him a photo, he absolutely could not come up with the word "futon." Why would he? He's never seen one in his entire life. Futons are for Poors, and he's never even met one of those. 


The craw -- in which this is stuck -- is getting crowded
So also (you'll notice a theme here) we're always like two or three weeks behind on SNL episodes (the fact that we are awakened at the very tippy-top of the asscrack of dawn every morning -- even weekends and holidays! --  by the four-year-old bursting through our door with a book has much to do with this), and we only just watched the one with Kristen Wiig's big send-off a few days ago, and I have not been able to get over it. 


I don't like her much -- at least, not unalloyed. When she's allowed to hog up all the airtime with her awful maybe-funny-the-first-time-but-certainly-not-the-forty-third-time recurring sketches as she's done the last couple of years, it's goddamn near unbearable (not as bad as the dull, stupid horrorshow that is Armisen, but still, not good). (Quick note about Bridesmaids, if I may -- I laughed a LOT more than I thought I would, which is entirely attributable to the Feig/Apatow influence, but both Wiig and Rudolph were about five to seven years too old for their characters; it took me out of the story a little.) 


And but so whatever, I'm only one person. Other people dig her flavor. BUT: Why the big sendoff? Did I miss how she's so deeply, universally beloved and revered as both person and sketch comic that her FINALLY leaving is such a notable event -- the Passing of an Era, the Exit of a True Icon, the worth and weight of her presence so enormous that her departure demands tribute from All Who Came Before Her, to be noted by All Present and All Who Shall Ever Follow? 


Fucking Cocksnacking Shatner, what a load that was. There've been a few sendoffs of note, but nobody who's ever been on that show has ever had anything like this one. Ugh. Well, silver lining: No more Wiig on SNL! Yay! Now -- can we get rid of Armisen? Please? PLEASE. I beg. 



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Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Also: Stamos.

Men My Daughter Might, Unfortunately, Date Someday But Is Not Allowed to Marry or Otherwise Commit To
An incomplete list.

The one who refers to himself as “boyish” or “a big kid.” You know what, fella? I’ll take your word for it.

The Republican. (The one good one I know is already married -- hi there, Jenn & Larry!)

The one who let his parents pay his rent/housing past college. I know you can’t afford a place as nice as your folks’ house. You’re young, that’s the fucking point. Figure out how to do it yourself.

The one who mistreats waitpersons, flight attendants, baristas &c. Obvious, but it bears repeating. Entitlement goes hand in hand with generalized assholery, and this person is most likely a miserable angry fuckhead even if he’s crazy-good-looking. Or probably especially then.

The one who Never drinks and/or has Never smoked (anything).
He’s either a liar, some sort of religious, or a self-righteous prick – better not to tangle with it in any case.

The one who Always drinks and/or brags about what/how much he smokes/ingests/applies topically. These are called drunks, junkies and future inmates. You’ll never be more important to them than the substance is.

The one who doesn’t disapprove of his friend who cheats on his girlfriend.

The incredibly rich one. That’s not his money -- he didn’t earn it -- but he’s never known what life is like without that soft fluffy coating all over everything. This is not a man who can handle reality.

The willfully poor one. Dates consisting of store-brand pasta cooked over a two-burner stove, a couple of bong hits, and a borrowed DVD might be fun when you’re 19, but trust me, this shiftless a-hole’s scavenged futon feels a lot less comfy when you’re 30.

The one who calls himself a poet. Not somebody who has written or writes poetry – I mean the one who calls himself a Poet. There might be bigger douchebags out there, but I doubt it. And besides, he probably has a vandyke beard or other Sensitive Facial Hair. Which: no.

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Tuesday, March 17, 2009

In which I’m sure I deeply grieve and offend some, but hey, they’re not likely readers of this blog, so.

Internets, I have done told y’all before about my powerful obsession with Big Love, which is another one of those HBO amazingly-well-written-and-acted joints (oh, for my lost Deadwood! And The Wire! But fuck Sopranos right in the ear. It is dead to me).

We’ve just had the second-to-last ep of this cheaply shortened season (they’re still crying writers’ strike, which was like THREE FUCKING YEARS AGO, lazy bastards), and it showed Barb (Jeanne Tripplehorn, or as I like to call her, Three-horn, yay Norm MacDonald! ) going into the LDS temple for this seeekrit ritual thingy. She’s not supposed to be there, having left the LDS church to join the Church of Bill, a polygamist offshoot she was sort of pressganged into on what she thought was her cancerous deathbed some years ago, and as the first wife of three, she’s lost her “temple recommend” and her good standing amongst the mainstream faithful. But with her life in crisis, she cons her mom and cunty sister into sneaking her in with a borrowed recommend, and y’all.

Y’ALL.

This ritual she goes through? Is HYSTERICAL. They were taking it very seriously, very solemnly, and cursory research has indicated it’s accurate. Which is just … RIDONCULOUS. There’s all these veils, and they’re wearing, like, weird white drapey dresses … I don’t know, it was just hilarious to this little lapsed Methodist. And then they went into this sex-segregated lounge area in their crazy duds, and … y’all. A guy, or several guys, made this up about a hundred and fifty years ago. I mean, come ON. With Catholicism or Islam, at least it’s been around so long that I can’t prove to you whether it’s real or not (I suspect not, thus my apostate status, but to each his or her own), but with this, like Scientology, you know exactly when it all got rolling and who exactly came up with it. No mystery, except the one of why people believe it, you know? And don’t even get me started on those two jackasses from the local LDS ward who just BARGED IN on Barb in her bathrobe in her own home and got all up in her GRILL with questions and threats and shit like they had a right to be there (I would’ve told them to go fuck a dead donkey, then slammed the door into their flinty little priss-ass faces, and right quick). And then (SPOILER ALERT) at this hearing they forced her to go to – and I mean, this is not a law enforcement action; the only power these fucknuts have is what Barb, et. al. give them – they excommunicated her, meaning (I think) that not only is she barred from Heaven on Captain and Deputy Fucknuts’ say-so, but also not even her own mom can ever speak to her again.

Two questions:

1) How is this bullcorn religion different from my establishment of His Righteousness The Shatner as the Deity as far as this blog is concerned? (Besides the fact that, though crusty, I am less of a smoking prick than those LDS ball-sores on the show, I mean.)

2) These are the people who were behind the big push on Prop 8? Wow.

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