Thursday, April 30, 2015

Libs Shellacked By Schlichter!

You may remember Kurt Schlichter, the ex-Army Man, former stand-up comedian, current lawyer, and alleged pundit who wants all those dusky layabouts who might -- if Obama gets his way -- possibly one day attend community college at government expense to pay for the privilege now by washing his BMW (I know the prĂ©cis doesn't make much sense, but trust me, it's funnier in the original Gibberish).

Well, Kurt's back, and this time he's standing athwart History, pursing his lips and shaking his head like a highchair-bound toddler refusing to grant access to a spoonful of strained peaches.
Conservatives, Unleash the Awesome Power of "No" 
We decent Americans are bombarded with lies, libeled, and subjected to petty (and, increasingly, not so petty) tyrannies by government flunkies.
Admittedly, this kind of thing was great during the Bush Administration, especially the first few months of the Iraq War, but now that the flunky's on the other foot, it's not quite as much fun.  (Also, when did we become a country that could be tyrannized by flunkies? I remember when that kind of thing required a bully.)
 At every turn, liberals and their suck-ups in the media and academia seek to delegitimize our interests, concerns, and opinions.
The important takeaway here is that when it comes to sucking, a good sense of direction is vital. If you want to be successful, always suck up, never suck down.
 They want us to submit
That's not really my scene, but hey, I'll try anything once. (Fyi, my safe word is "Snausages").
to take the easy way out, to just go along. Our fate, they decree, is cultural and political dhimmitude.
Well, you do sound like a bit of a dhimbulb. 
Well, it’s time to draw a red line and, unlike President Feckless and the Wimptones, to enforce it.
And while you're forcing the world to obey your crayon etchings, I'll just jump in here and mention that the remastered President Feckless and the Wimptones: Live at the Apollo is now available on iTunes.
Conservatives, it’s time to say, “No.”
Of course, for conservatives, "No" means "Maybe" (if she's had a drink) or "Yes" (if an insurance company pays for her birth control pills) so there's still a little wiggle room.
No, liberals, you can’t just lie about us anymore without us pushing back. 
Ah yes. With your every effort at diplomacy rebuffed, you've finally concluded that you have no alternative but to strike back at liberal lies with lies about liberals. It's a bold battle plan, and would no doubt benefit from the element of surprise if you hadn't basically been pulling this exact same shit since the Gilded Age.
The days of surrender in the face of your slander are over.
While the days of surroundsound in the service of slashfic are just beginning.  Anyway, now that you've monologued your whole evil plan, we might as well get on with it. Hit me with your best lies...
No, liberals, you are the racists. 
It's a Shyamalanian twist!
Your party created the Klan. 
And yet I never see those guys in their pointy white hoods at the weekly Comintern meeting. By the way, what's the statue of limitations on this kind of thing? Are we still responsible for them if they haven't paid their party dues since 1964?
Your party created and enforced Jim Crow. 
And abolished it under a Democratic President, which to be fair makes the Democrats less like ordinary villains, and more like the sympathetic supervillain who earns redemption by destroying his own abomination in the final reel. Sort of like Doc Ock in Spider-Man 2 (I realize this is a fairly stupid and needlessly geeky similie, but I'm still working through my fraternity initiation [I'm a procrastinator] and today's hazing ritual requires me to "write something that gives Jonah Goldberg a half-chub").

This does raise a question though, Kurt: if you find Jim Crow legitimately abhorrent, and not just a convenient cudgel, why are you guys trying so hard to reboot the franchise?
Bull Connor was a union-loving populist and a delegate to a Democrat National Convention. 
While today he'd be the Keynote Speaker at CPAC.
Your Democrat party relies on racial divisions, lies, and hatred. 
And an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope!
Quick, which party would fold tomorrow if racial hatred suddenly evaporated – the party that seeks to limit government and to empower every individual to create his own success, or the party that seeks to grow government to more lavishly hand out scraps to buy votes?
Frankly, I don't think even something so unsettling to the status quo as the sudden evaporation of racial hatred would make either party would go away -- at least not permanently; they're both too much like herpes -- but it sure wouldn't do Fox News much good.

No, liberals, you are the sexists
No, we're the sexiestJust ask People magazine.
the ones offering up as your nominees a corrupt, accomplishment-free punchline who got where she is solely by being hitched to a successful man. 
Whereas Kurt is a morally bankrupt joke in search of a punchline who pours out his spleen on Townhall because no decent man would have him. You can see why he's bitter.
Anyone else without her plumbing but with her track record of failure would be lucky to be consigned to the Martin O’Malley tier of primary candidate asterisks. If there really was a glass ceiling, a bar exam-flunking, ethically bankrupt hack like Hillary would need a ladder to reach it if she wasn’t already standing on Bill’s shoulders."
What about someone with her plumbing, but an even bigger track record of failure? You know what I'm saying...
You don’t merely tolerate sexism – you reward it. Your demigod Teddy Kennedy didn’t just treat women like trash. He killed one by leaving her to drown alone in the wet, cold dark while he slinked away to his team of Democrat sycophants to sober up and hatch the lies that helped him avoid justice. And you don’t care. You made him a liberal icon.
Well we already downgraded him from demi-god to icon, and that's a pretty severe demotion, going from a guy with his own temples and cult to just another face on an altar screen. What else do you want us to do? It's a little late to cancel his pension.
Then there’s Bill Clinton, Count No. 1 in the lengthy felony fraud indictment of liberal “feminism.” 
I don't think you can make feminism legally responsible for Bill Clinton, let alone indict it for fraud, unless NOW was caught selling imitation Bill Clintons that fell off the back of a truck in New Jersey.
No, Mainstream Media, we are not swallowing the lies you pass off as the truth. 
We're swallowing truth passed off as lies!  Or...Wait...  Well I think we can all agree, the important thing is, you're swallowing.
Liberal newspapers?
Nope, none that I'm aware of.
And we’re sick of funding your war upon our kids for the crime of being normal. If our kids are male, you hate them and call them “rapists” even as you gush over rapist-apologist Hillary.
Wow, you read me like an open book, Kurt. No -- I'll go further -- it's like you've drilled one of those creepy rural motel manager peepholes into the bathroom of my soul.
 If our kids are Christian or Jewish, you want to treat them like outcasts for not worshipping your false gods.
False gods??  That, sir, is a direct attack upon my deeply held religious beliefs, and you may expect a strong letter from my attorneys, Cthulhu, Cthulhu, Hungadunga & Zoth-Ommog!
 And you want to shut them up by empowering campus freaks who shriek that our kids’ dissenting views make them feel “unsafe.”
Speaking as a former campus freak, I can attest that those shrieks aren't always pre-emptive; sometimes they're simply the very human reaction to having your arm twisted up behind your back by three guys who reek of Cruex and Mennan Speed Stick.

But let's face it, Kurt, whatever crimes of normalcy your kids may have committed, neither you nor I are anywhere near the psychological or behavioral baseline. I'm an intense introvert with outrĂ© social views, while you're a borderline sociopath who reacts to empathy the way a vampire does to sunlight. I say we should just embrace our contradictions and taste the rainbow. 
Tick-tock, the era of the computer college education is coming to an end.
Tough titties, DeVry!
Maybe you can find new jobs in the shrinking classified ad sections of those liberal newspapers you still read.
I don't mean to pry, Kurt, but I've got to ask: how do you write a column for the Internet when you don't seem to know the Internet exists?
No, liberals, we refuse to go along and be complicit in the suicide of our culture and our country.
I can just imagine Kurt working the Suicide Prevention Hotline on the night Liberal America calls, and  immediately going into his I'm-rubber-you're-glue bit:

LIBERAL AMERICA: Yeah, I've been thinking about taking my own life--

KURT: No, Liberals, you're not going to kill yourself! I'm going to kill myself! (BANG!)

LIBERAL AMERICA:  Wait -- What?  Hello?  Hello...?
 Your long-term strategy has been to browbeat us into acquiescence, to pester, prod, and persecute us into silence and submission. And why?
Because we like you!
Unlike your leftist heroes elsewhere, American leftists have no army of willing murderers to enforce your sick vision at the point of a gun – except in Wisconsin, and the spotlight’s on that now, you scurrying cockroaches.
By show of hands, who seems more likely to have a sick vision for the country -- the leftist arguing for sensible gun regulations, or the guy denouncing his political enemies as "scurrying cockroaches" and daring you to knock the battery off his shoulder? Oh well. At least Kurt has been spicing up his rhetoric with selections from Adolf Hitler's junior high slam book. 
Just remember that most of you can’t even guess correctly which end of a gun goes “bang.” 
Sure we can. It's the end the little flag comes out of.
So you have to depend upon us normal people going along, of not resisting, of just giving up. 
Well, we aren’t giving up. We’re on to you. We’re fighting back.* And here’s our battle cry: 
Well, it's no "Fifty-Four Forty or Fight!", but it is a lot easier to embroider on a pillow.

*If you follow Kurt's link to Amazon, you'll discover that this whole column has been a lengthy infomercial for his new book, a future oral history, something like World War Z, about the conservatives who permanently overrun America. So exactly like World War Z, actually.)

Friday, April 24, 2015

Debauched and De Bonted

By Hank Parmer

The Haunting (1999)

Tagline: Ghosts with the Most!

Space, 1999. A runaway chain reaction at the Lunar Nuclear Waste Dump has ripped the Moon from its orbit and sent it careening -- whoops. Wrong story.

Hollywood, 1999. A runaway collision of cash and ambition at Dreamworks Studios spawns a $100-million-plus rip-off of 1963's The Haunting.

This had been a longstanding pet project for Steven Spielberg. The original plan was for Spielberg to direct a script by horror-maven Stephen King, but creative differences eventually put the kibosh on that collaboration. For some reason, Spielberg ultimately chose to only associate himself with the feature as an executive producer.

So first Dreamworks needed to find someone else to helm the project. This would seem to be a tall order. By the time he directed the original film, Robert Wise had already made his mark in a variety of genres: horror, film noir, Westerns (including the Western noir Blood on the Moon), romance, war, drama, science fiction, musicals -- you name it, he'd directed an outstanding example of it. Wise, along with his co-director Jerome Robbins, had just won the "Best Director" Oscar the previous year for a little thing called West Side Story.

Yes, Wise would later direct Star Trek: The Movie, but right now we're talking 1963.

Earlier in his career, Wise worked with Orson Welles, editing such minor cinematic efforts as Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons. He cut his directorial teeth under the tutelage of Val Lewton, who produced a distinctive series of horror films for RKO in the 1940s which despite their shoestring budgets are still considered classics of atmosphere and intelligent scripting. Lewton's theory of horror was that people were more afraid of the unknown than things they could see, a philosophy at least partly born out of the studio's penny-pinching, but one which his directors used to unforgettable effect in pictures such as The Cat People, I Walked with a Zombie and of course Wise's The Body Snatcher.

Wise intended The Haunting to be an homage to Lewton, showing what could be done when you combined his mentor's notion of horror with a respectable budget. Through his brilliant use of sound effects, sets designed to emphasize the claustrophobic atmosphere and unconventional camera angles and movement, he created a masterpiece of psychological horror that consistently shows up on critics' and viewers' lists of the most terrifying films of all time.


Dreamworks' first choice is Wes Craven, which at least makes some sort of sense. Craven, however, bails on the project shortly after filming starts. So who then is your logical second choice? Who else but the director of the immortal Leonard Part 6: Jan de Bont. 

But who then to cast for the pivotal role of Eleanor, a lonely, guilt-ridden, psychologically fragile woman who's spent the majority of her adult life caring for the invalid mother from Hell? The 1963 film featured Julie Harris, one of the finest actors of her generation. True to her Actors Studio training, she totally inhabited the character of “Nell”, using her off-camera depression to give her performance depth and sympathy.

So Lili Taylor is tapped for the part. Who, for all I know, may be the reincarnation of Vivian Leigh, but you sure couldn't prove it by this example of her craft. It may have been the script. It may have been the direction. Or it may be that she started gobbling Valium like Pez candies once she realized what she'd gotten herself into.

Oh, and that "what you can't see is even more frightening" bit? C'mon, this is 1999: You've got CGI and wads of cash. The viewer's going to see everything, dammit. And like it!

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

The Tragedy Of Ferguson

By Keith

Craig, we knew you when we passed -- like half-masted schooners in the dark of night -- staggering in different directions on Avenue A back in the 1980s. And we liked your gig with CBS Late Late Show. The puppets, the flirtations with gay culture and sexual preference, your robot friend Geoff as well as the many entertaining if not insightful interviews.

In a way your career trajectory seems 180 degrees opposite of Johnny Carson. Carson began at NBC as the host of a daytime game show Who Do You Trust before replacing Jack Parr on the Tonight Show. You've gone from late night to daytime game show host.

(Well, had to throw that in. Now on to more serious deliberations.)

Municipal Government or Gansta' Cartel? You Decide.

I've been sampling the Investigation of the Ferguson Police Department conducted by the US Department of Justice, Civil Rights Division published March 4, 2015.

Most revealing are the DOJ interviews with Ferguson residents. Each random encounter with FPD is an exercise in tragedy yet somehow no two are exactly alike.

There's variety and plenty of it.
Even relatively routine misconduct by Ferguson police officers can have significant consequences for the people whose rights are violated. For example, in the summer of 2012, a 32-year-old African-American man sat in his car cooling off after playing basketball in a Ferguson public park. An officer pulled up behind the man’s car, blocking him in, and demanded the man’s Social Security number and identification. Without any cause, the officer accused the man of being a pedophile, referring to the presence of children in the park, and ordered the man out of his car for a pat-down, although the officer had no reason to believe the man was armed. The officer also asked to search the man’s car.
Why yes, because pedophile ISIS operatives are always prowling around pickup basketball locations, with vials of Ebola virus stashed in the Igloo wheelie (back seat).
The man objected, citing his constitutional rights. In response, the officer arrested the man, reportedly at gunpoint, charging him with eight violations of Ferguson’s municipal code. One charge, Making a False Declaration, was for initially providing the short form of his first name (e.g., “Mike” instead of “Michael”), and an address which, although legitimate, was different from the one on his driver’s license. Another charge was for not wearing a seat belt, even though he was seated in a parked car. The officer also charged the man both with having an expired operator’s license, and with having no operator’s license in his possession. The man told us that, because of these charges, he lost his job as a contractor with the federal government that he had held for years.
Quantum effects are not unusual in Ferguson, MO. Citizens may possess a drivers license listing previous address, a drivers license that is expired, and no drivers license whatsoever, an example of spooky entanglement of simultaneous states.

Let's check the Ferguson "Grift-O'-Meter for a tabulation of known fines incurred for this encounter.

Loss of job as government contractor: Priceless.

Please note the above estimate, as others to follow, omits any additional court costs associated with arrest.

Here's another example of a perfect day in another Ferguson Public Park.
 In June 2014, an African-American couple who had taken their children to play at the park allowed their small children to urinate in the bushes next to their parked car. An officer stopped them, threatened to cite them for allowing the children to “expose themselves,” and checked the father for warrants. When the mother asked if the officer had to detain the father in front of the children, the officer turned to the father and said, “you’re going to jail because your wife keeps running her mouth.” The mother then began recording the officer on her cell phone. 
The officer became irate, declaring, “you don’t videotape me!” As the officer drove away with the father in custody for “parental neglect,” the mother drove after them, continuing to record. The officer then pulled over and arrested her for traffic violations. When the father asked the officer to show mercy, he responded, “no more mercy, since she wanted to videotape,” and declared “nobody videotapes me.” The officer then took the phone, which the couple’s daughter was holding. After posting bond, the couple found that the video had been deleted.
In all fairness perhaps the attending officer was uncomfortable with not being "camera-ready" on this occasion. Bad hair day, no neutral-density foundation to wick up the shiny nose, etc. These are all legitimate considerations when appearing on HD portable video. Everyone wants to look their best on the job.

It's not revealed by DOJ whether or not this case was dismissed and no information on the amount of bond posted. Fines for parental neglect and public exposure were unavailable at press time.

Despite the lack of qualified personnel assigned for "last looks," FPD seem eternally vigilant to respond to random household disputes.
We spoke with one African-American man who, in August 2014, had an argument in his apartment to which FPD officers responded, and was immediately pulled out of the apartment by force. After telling the officer, “you don’t have a reason to lock me up,” he claims the officer responded: “N*****, I can find something to lock you up on.” When the man responded, “good luck with that,” the officer slammed his face into the wall, and after the man fell to the floor, the officer said, “don’t pass out motherf****r because I’m not carrying you to my car.”
The Justice Dept. doesn't elaborate on what happened to this resident after suffering a contusion that left him unconscious. Perhaps he had to crawl on all fours to the car, or perhaps the attending officer called Uber for the pick-up.

Using "reasonable and customary charges" it's fair to conclude that an ER visit (including CT scan) is upward of $1200. Then there is the issue of car-fare, since Deputy Dan wasn't feeling it. Cost of ambulance: $350-600.

Next we move on to one of the more creative civil ordinances enforced by the FPD: Manner of Walking. DOJ doesn't actually define the term perhaps because there is no clear definition other than jaywalking or creating a public nuisance.
Officers in Ferguson also use their arrest power to retaliate against individuals for using language that, while disrespectful, is protected by the Constitution. For example, one afternoon in September 2012, an officer stopped a 20-year-old African-American man for dancing in the middle of a residential street. The officer obtained the man’s identification and ran his name for warrants. Finding none, he told the man he was free to go. The man responded with profanities. When the officer told him to watch his language and reminded him that he was not being arrested, the man continued using profanity and was arrested for Manner of Walking in Roadway.
"Moon-walking", no doubt.

In February 2014, officers responded to a group of African-American teenage girls “play fighting” (in the words of the officer) in an intersection after school. When one of the schoolgirls gave the middle finger to a white witness who had called the police, an officer ordered her over to him. One of the girl’s friends accompanied her. Though the friend had the right to be present and observe the situation—indeed, the offense reports include no facts suggesting a safety concern posed by her presence—the officers ordered her to leave and then attempted to arrest her when she refused. Officers used force to arrest the friend as she pulled away. When the first girl grabbed an officer’s shoulder, they used force to arrest her, as well. 
Officers charged the two teenagers with a variety of offenses, including: Disorderly Conduct for giving the middle finger and using obscenities; Manner of Walking for being in the street; Failure to Comply for staying to observe; Interference with Officer; Assault on a Law Enforcement Officer; and Endangering the Welfare of a Child (themselves and their schoolmates) by resisting arrest and being involved in disorderly conduct.
Fodor's Guide expressly cautions against flipping the bird at white Ferguson residents. These young women didn't get the memo. As a result they engaged in child endangerment, a no-no in FPD's philosophy of community policing.

On February 9, 2015, several individuals were protesting outside the Ferguson police station on the six-month anniversary of Michael Brown’s death. According to protesters, and consistent with several video recordings from that evening, the protesters stood peacefully in the police department’s parking lot, on the sidewalks in front of it, and across the street. Video footage shows that two FPD vehicles abruptly accelerated from the police parking lot into the street. An officer announced, “everybody here’s going to jail,” causing the protesters to run. Video shows that as one man recorded the police arresting others, he was arrested for interfering with police action. Officers pushed him to the ground, began handcuffing him, and announced, “stop resisting or you’re going to get tased.” It appears from the video, however, that the man was neither interfering nor resisting. A protester in a wheelchair who was live streaming the protest was also arrested. Another officer moved several people with cameras away from the scene of the arrests, warning them against interfering and urging them to back up or else be arrested for Failure to Obey. The sergeant shouted at those filming that they would be arrested for Manner of Walking if they did not back away out of the street, even though it appears from the video recordings that the protesters and those recording were on the sidewalk at most, if not all, times. Six people were arrested during this incident.

Remember, multiply by six and you have the equivalent of a wild night out in Branson.

Duly noting our wheelchair-bound friend from the last encounter, we have arrived at the ad-hoc definition of Manner of Walking: Ambulatory While Black.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Doug Giles, Alphalfa Male

It's been quite a long time since we've checked in with Muscular Christian Pastor Doug Giles, the man whose sermons about the godhead come with a side of dickhead, but all good times must come to an end, so...
HEY, WUSSIES: Quit Asking, ‘How Many Are The Enemy, But Where Are They?’
I’ve been reading Steven Pressfield’s musings on warriors and warfare and this quote struck me like Ike Turner punching Tina when she fell flat while singing, “Rolling On The River”.
The rule in comedy is "always punch up, not down," but Pastor Giles is a confirmed contrarian and likes to take the opposite tack, in this case, literally.
“The Spartans do not ask how many are the enemy but where are they.” - Plutarch, Sayings Of The Spartans
Yes, the Spartans were manly, but unlike most men, they'd stop and ask for directions.
And that, my friend, is one of the big differences between a warrior and a wuss.
Or to put it another way, a wuss spends less time slathering on olive oil and wrestling in the nude, and more time learning how to use the Waze app on his phone.
A wuss, you see, looks for an excuse to run 
Which is why the biggest wuss in the world is Usain Bolt.
but a warrior looks for the opportunity to throttle the enemy.
Especially if she's a girl singer who's having pitch problems.
The strange thing is that nowadays, in our aggravated state of pussification
Wait -- are we wusses or pusses? I don't meant to question your testicle weight, but it seems to me a real man would dither less about his consonants.
one would call the inquirer of how many foes are arrayed against them “a wise calculator of the risks involved” and whether or not they are able to contend with what they have at hand or if they should retreat. When, in reality, such questions, often times, are nothing but cowardice masked in some shrewd sounding horse-crap that doesn’t make one sound like a scared quail.
Exactly. Custer eschewed bean-counting cost/benefit analyses and asked only the Spartan Question, and look how well that worked out for him.
That mindset afflicted an old friend of mine from Cali who was way smarter than I 
Smart enough at least to know we don't call it "Cali."
...when it came to books and business, who would always talk himself out of startups and personal goals because he always viewed how “insurmountable the obstacles were” rather than how he could possibly tackle his mountains. This attitude equated this brilliant, book-smart buddy’s being a stay-at-home dad versus an alpha-male butt-kicker.
Yes, why would any seemingly intelligent man settle for living life on his own terms and spending time with his children when he could let himself be browbeaten into disastrous investments and needlessly violent confrontations by a guy who works one day a week as the pastor of a pop-up church and spends the rest of his time shooting at tame ruminants on canned hunts using guns and ammo bought with cash skimmed from the collection plate?

I thought you said this guy was smart.
How sad.
I completely agree, although probably not for the same reason.
Politically speaking, I wish those who “represent us on the Right” would take this warrior mindset to heart versus rolling up in the fetal position and wetting their massive Republican diaper once they’re faced with the teeth of the liberal beast. 
What Doug calls "the teeth of the liberal beast" we call "the vagina."
The Left zealously sports this “die or be killed” attitude as they approach our culture wars, whereas those on the Right are mostly/merely butt-smoochin’ wind-testers, 
Point of order: if you're within smooching distance of the butt, do you really have to test the wind? It seems like it could only be coming from one direction. (I'd think tasting the wind would be a bigger issue...)
From an ecclesiastical standpoint, don’t even get me started on how this lame spirit has taken possession of the brethren’s craven soul.
I'm not sure I want to get you started on any ecclesiastical issue, Doug, since your clerical bona fides are based on leadership of a congregation which materializes, Brigadoon-like, in Ballroom A of the Ramada Inn, and your sermons -- judging by the care and thought you put into these Townhall columns -- probably consist of you standing at the pulpit, firing two cap pistols into the air and hollerin' like Yosemite Sam.
To say that the church has become a toothless lion to cultural corruption would be akin to saying Hillary Clinton sort of lies. Fortuitous, we are not. Unlike Jesus, most pastors would rather fly than fight; and I hold them primarily responsible for the coarsening of our culture because I believe the state of our nation is due largely, in part, to the “holy nation” within unwilling to make principled stands when holy writ and common sense demand a throw down.
So the next time you see tits on HBO, send a thank you card to Garner Ted Armstrong.
Here’s the bottom line, folks: if anything is worth doing it will be fraught with sick hurdles. 
Also diseased stumbling blocks and infectious pitfalls.
That’s life, Dinky.
Listen Doug, I think you should at least see me in the shower first before you start throwing around pejoratives like that.
The sooner we take on the warrior mentality, the quicker we’ll be talking about great victories. So, from now on, talk yourself into the battle instead of how you can get out of the battle.
I'm forced to agree with Pastor Giles -- although again, not for the same reason -- since I also think "tak[ing] on the warrior mentality" would be a great victory, allowing us to bring our fanged vulvas home by Christmas and easing the burden on our landfills, which are currently choking on massive Republican diapers.

Monday, April 13, 2015

Porn Spam From Ed McMahon!

Our usual Monday Morning Movie review is going to be a bit delayed this week, thanks to a back injury that's making it even more difficult to sit through an already difficult to sit through film. In fact, I could barely skim my email this afternoon; but one missive did catch my eye, from Publishers Clearing House.

Like Kentucky Fried Chicken and various rappers, PCH goes only by its initials now, because that's just how cool it's become. Gone are the days when it arrived in your mailbox -- a thick packet of newsprint ads with a smiling TV sidekick on the envelope -- and was primarily a delivery system for Franklin Mint merchandise and McCall's subscriptions. No, the new PCH looked at the rise of the Internet and realized that nowadays, the real money's in Unfortunate Innuendos.

Now I know some of you guys are scratching your heads and saying to yourselves, "They wanna sell me a 'Full-Size Hose That Fits In The Palm Of Your Hand!'?  Talk about coals to Newcastle!"  This impression is perhaps strengthened when you notice the product is called the "Pocket Hose," (I'm ignoring the "Ultra," because I think that part's probably just boasting.)  But here's the thing -- the tubing is upgraded (and don't even pretend you haven't degraded your tubing over the years, especially that one time in college), and most important of all -- No More Tangled Hoses! Granted, I've neither seen nor experienced this issue myself, but maybe it's a problem for gay dudes on a really busy Saturday night.

Anyway, the instructions say to "Just Turn the Water on -- Grows to a FULL SIZE HOSE!", so apparently it works on the opposite principle of those erections you wake up with when you've got a full bladder.

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Happy Birthday, Keith!

I thought I'd wait until this headache went away before starting the party, but clearly it intends to stick around, at least until all the booze is gone, so you might as well don your conical chapeaux and blow your foo-flounders, while I go grab the cake, which was lovingly baked and decorated by some of the city's finest bigots. (Or so I assume; it was only recently I learned that bending over a table all day, squeezing a gooey substance from the tip of your piping bag as you whimsically inscribe and filigree pastries and baked goods in various shades of sugary pastels was a job for rugged he-men who are offended by the slightest whiff of gay stuff.)

Anyway, it's the natal anniversary of our good friend, and valued member of the World O' Crap writing staff, Keith.  So please be sure to sign the card, then join us in the Conference Room promptly at 2:45 for cake and a delightful punch Fran in Accounts Receivables made from Ocean Spray Cranberry Juice Cocktail and Diet Squirt (she says the secret ingredient is a pinch of cardamon and a lot of love! Shhhh!)

In the meantime, please join me in wishing Keith the very happiest of birthdays. And of course...Sexy Birthday Lizard(s)!
Why do I always get stuck making small talk with this guy at these office mixers...?