The Fat Lady Will Now Break Out in Song

This month I participated in National Blog Posting Month.

AND NOW IT'S OVER!!!

Thank Jesus Christ and the Justice League of America, because from now on I don't have to blog every single day, whether I want to or not, all in some futile attempt to win a t-shirt or coaster.

Of course, some annoying overachievers tried to write a novel in a month. They'll probably give the blog crowd a rash of shit.

"Oh, you blogged every day, huh? That's impressive . So these wasn't a day in November when five people didn't know what you had for breakfast? That is a monumental achievement. What did I do in November? Well, I kind of wrote a novel. But really, congrats on the blog thing. You must be so proud."

Tagged to the eighth degree

My friend Erin tagged me to do this meme. That's right, babies...TWO MEMES IN A ROW! This is the second-to-last day before National Blog Posting Month mercifully comes to a close, and I'm a shameless whore. NOTE: I'll still be a shameless whore come December.

8 passions in my life:
Making friends (and the occasional stranger) laugh.
Drinking a tasty beer at Cumberland Brews.
The futile pursuit of true love.
Writing.
Watching University of Louisville basketball, win or lose.
Thursday night at Buffalo Wild Wings. Living proof that friends are more important than the venue.
My hometown, warts and all.
The art and majesty of the dulcimer (ok, not really, but I ran out of passion).

8 things to do before I die:
Visit Europe without getting in a fistfight with a Frenchman.
Lose a lot of weight.
Visit New York City with someone who can lead me to the best pizza in the city and a good bagel.
Get it on with a Redhead.
Find true love (if this happens with a non-Redhead before I get it on with a Redhead, that's ok with me).
Get a job I don't despise.
Publish something.
Do a shot of Patron with Jessica Alba.

8 things I often say:
"I don't care."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"I'll have one more."
"Can I leave early?"
"What's going on this weekend?"
"Maker's and Coke, please."
"Where did (random cashier) go?"
"I'll be back. I'm going to the restroom."

8 books I read recently:
The 101 People Who Are Really Screwing Up America, by Jack Huberman
Who Let the Dogs In? A Personal History of America's Most Incredible Political Animals, by Molly Ivins
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures from the Culinary Underbelly, by Anthony Bourdain
I Am America and So Can You!, by Stephen Colbert
American Scream: The Bill Hicks Story, by Cynthia True
(Yeah, sorry. That's all I've read recently. I probably need to read a little fiction, huh?)

8 songs that mean something to me:
Here's Where the Story Ends, The Sundays
Thief, Belly
Where Did You Sleep Last Night, Leadbelly/performed by Nirvana
Just about every song from their first four albums, REM
Dancing Queen, Abba
Blizzard of '78, Ida
Thunder Road (version from the Live 1975-1985 CD), Bruce Springsteen
I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, Hank Williams

8 qualities I look for in a friend:
Sense of humor
Prefers Letterman over Leno
Someone I can trust
Not a moron
Treats people with respect
Enjoys a good drink
Non judgmental
Is confused by the popularity of Rachel Ray

8 people who I’m passing this on to:
Nope, not gonna do it.

39 is the new meme

This is all over the internet, but I think I saw it here first. Anyway, here it goes.

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
Physical scars or emotional scars? Survey, you need to be more specific.

2. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
True love or a pizza. Either way.

3. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
In the middle of the night on a Friday.

4. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?
All of my G.I. Joe action figures and accessories.

5. THE BEST TV SHOW EVER CREATED:
The Sopranos, especially seasons One thru Four.

6. THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO?
Server at Cumberland Brews.

7. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?
No, because I'm older than six.

8. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
The American voting public, November 2004.

9. HOW MANY WISDOM TEETH DO YOU HAVE?
Well, the bottom two were yanked out. So two.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
That shit Britney Spears sells. I love the smell of 'has been before thirty' in the morning.

11. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
I really like dark hair and light eyes, but it isn't that important.

12. WOULD YOU RATHER BE SMART OR FUNNY?
If you're funny enough, people assume (sometimes incorrectly) that you're smart.

13. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS?
Coffee. Energy drinks smell like vagrant puke.

14. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Impellizzeri's pizza.

15. WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
Judging by my life, it had to have been God.

16. DO YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?
I speak Midwestern United States, Southern United States, and Nevadan.

17. DO YOU LIKE SOMEONE?
Yes, but it seems she doesn't like me. Big surprise.

18. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?
Of course. I'm a sucker for misery.

19. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?
Don't jizz in her hair.

20. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?
The aggressively stupid.

21. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF THE U.S.?
Canada. So no, I haven't.

22. YOUR WEAKNESSES?
When my hair is cut I lose my super strength.

23. IF YOU COULD GET PLASTIC SURGERY WHAT WOULD IT BE?
It would be a waste of time.

24. WHY DID YOU FILL OUT THIS SURVEY?
Hello? I have to blog every fucking day this month.

25. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
Only when I'm sober.

26. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
My collection of sea shells.

27. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?
Move to where it was still legal.

28. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?
None or four. Can't decide.

29. WHERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
I was allegedly named after a character on the tv show Route 66. His friend's name was Buzz, so I guess it could be worse.

30. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY?
Enough of this 'cry' bullshit.

31. ANY BAD HABITS?
A better question would be "ANY GOOD HABITS?"

32. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
No. Fat guys always take the last piece of pizza.

33. DO YOU KNOW ANYONE FAMOUS?
I went to high school with this guy who later played in the NFL. But he didn't know me.

34. DO LOOKS MATTER?
Not as much as the ability to rock out!

35. HOW DO YOU RELEASE YOUR ANGER?
I sing in a tabernacle choir.

36. DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY?
Not since the Crystal Pepsi Fiasco.

37. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG:
Who Let the Dogs Out? Because really, who let 'em out?

38. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?
Super Bowl Sunday. Or the Saturday of Lebowski Fest.

39. FAVORITE EXPRESSION?
One of bemused resignation.

Eli Manning isn't a great quarterback, but...

I was going to use this rather humorous photo of an incoherently drunk Eli Manning to make fun of the New York Giants' quarterback. After all, I greatly dislike the New York Giants, and Eli has been playing shitty lately.

But then I did a little soul searching. Ok, I watched Family Guy and had a bourbon, but whatever. In this "embarrassing" photo, Eli has both a wicked buzz and his arm around a nubile young lass. I'd love to be in that position this weekend! That's a good night by most standards.

I wouldn't get drunk on Miller Genuine Draft because I hate bottled afterbirth, but you get what I'm saying.

In conclusion, I have mixed emotions: Eli Manning's worst moment is better than most of my good ones; but if the Giants keep him as their starter they'll never win another Super Bowl.

Son of a bitch...

I was very excited for about a minute. For a fleeting moment, I experienced what I've heard outsiders refer to as "joy". There's a big blogger gathering planned for the Spring, to be held right here in Louisville! I was thinking I could get some of my blogger friends to attend, and also meet some well-known bloggers I admire.

Well, fuck that with Hitler's dick, because it turns out to be The Second Amendment Blog Bash. Yeah, like I'm going to hang out with a bunch of blogging gun nuts. I'd rather spend the weekend watching foreign-dubbed episodes of She's the Sheriff.

But wait, it gets much worse. The blogger get-together is being held to coincide with the National Rifle Association's 2008 Convention, which is also coming here. Allow me to go on record as saying I don't fucking approve of this. Of course, this was arranged by our recently defeated douchebag governor. He never did a god damn thing for this city his entire term; he couldn't even get our bridges painted, for the love of incompetence. Maybe he got us the blood money that 60,000 visiting NRA members will bring because he felt a twinge of guilt. Who knows?

Frankly, I have no use for guns, but I have nothing against hunters and people who feel they need extra protection. I don't want to pal around with the gun bloggers, but I welcome them to the city. The NRA, on the other hand, is a completely unreasonable fringe group. They oppose basic common sense proposals such as criminal background checks, waiting periods, and the ban of armor-piercing "cop killer" bullets. In case you were wondering, the main objective of a cop killer bullet is to kill a cop. I'm against that sort of thing.

A recommendation...

I usually bore the soul out of everyone by talking about music from the early to mid nineties. Well, not today.

No, today I'm going to bore you until you briefly consider suicide by talking about music that was just released this past Tuesday.

Louisville's own Wax Fang just released their latest, La La Land, and I'm here to tell you it's fuckin' fantastic. Don't take my word for it though. U.S. Poet Laureate Charles Simic, Jesus Christ, and artificial heart creator Robert Jarvik are all big fans.

If you live in Louisville, get the CD at Ear x-tacy. For the rest of you, order it here.

Oh, if you're just too cool for CDs, it's available on itunes. Jackass.

A moral dillema from yesteryear

When I was in college I knew a girl named Juliet who was without a doubt the best looking woman I've ever seen in person. Ever. The person in second place is Janet Reno compared to this young lady.

Anyway, I met Juliet because she was dating a friend of a friend. She thought I was funny *sigh* so she'd always hang out with my group of friends at our dork table in the student center.

Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean most of the time, a few of us would skip class to go to her dorm room and drink bourbon. Nothing beats midday boozing in a small enclosed space in the presence of the best looking human to ever walk the earth. Well, I could think of something better...but more on that later.

One day a friend of mine and I are in her room and Juliet announces that she has to get ready for her aerobics class. Yes, she got college credits for working out, courtesy of a mediocre commuter school also known as the University of Louisville. I'm sipping on my bourbon and coke when I glance up and see Juliet standing there completely naked. Unfortunately, this wasn't "fuck me" naked, it was "I have no boundaries" naked; but still, I got a serious look at her goods.

As the semester progressed, I got a sense that this girl would have had sex with me, but I did nothing because she was dating someone I knew.

God damn, what a solid gold moron I was! I haven't seen that dude in years. I barely remember what he looked like. I don't remember his last name, for fuck's sake. And Juliet, according to many sources, cheated on him all the time. I was told by more than one person that all I had to do was say the word and she would have made my dreams come true.

Or maybe I did the right thing. I didn't betray someone, and I didn't pick up a nasty social disease from the university pincushion. What do you think?

I don't regret hanging out with her, though. She laughed at all of my jokes and always had a bottle of bourbon in her room. I've never been the type of guy who thinks a slutty person equals a bad person.

I hate this post. Damn you, NaBloPoMo!

I need to leave the customer service industry

This evening I was at work and this guy stood right in the front of the store just beyond the check out lanes and farted loudly for forty-five straight seconds. This was a Peter Griffin on Family Guy fart. It was truly a nuanced expulsion, starting loud then fading, but slowly building to an ear-shattering conclusion. And it sounded wet. Really wet

The guy turned around and saw me staring at him in horrified disbelief. His only response was a goofy half-grin, so I said the first thing that came to mind:

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

He didn't respond because I don't think he spoke English, so I just walked away before the smell got to me.

Even if he does speak English, I doubt he'll complain about me. What is he going to say? "Yeah, one of your employees was very rude to me when I almost shit my pants in your store."

It's all over but the gastrointestonal distress

Thoughts about Thanksgiving...

-Turkey is fine, but I like the fixin's better. I'm a fixin's kind of guy.

-They could just replay the same Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade over and over year after year and no one would be the wiser. Do they still have the Underdog balloon? Has anyone under the age of thirty-five ever heard of Underdog?

-I understand that retail stores are open on Thanksgiving, and it's ok if you forget something and have to do some last minute shopping. But I do think that an employee of the store's choosing should be allowed to slap you in the face. Because... why not?

-The Jets suck.

-There was a halftime show during the Dallas game. Kelly Clarkson sang some half-assed medley of her hits as the Cowboy cheerleaders danced in the background. I think Kelly is popular because she reminds guys of girls they've had sex with. Not girls they've thought about while pud-pounding to Cinemax soft porn, but girls they've fucked. That's what "girl next door" means, you know. It's a polite way of saying "I went next door and we fucked."

-There are three NFL games on Thanksgiving now. The new one is on the NFL Network. It's hard to get this channel, like the NFL doesn't want just anyone to have their precious network. First you have to have digital cable, because I'm assuming analog cable is for ballet-watching ninnies; then you have to order an additional "Wiping Your Ass With Discretionary Income Sports Tier". It's easier to get on the VIP List at Pure on New Year's Eve than it is to get this crappy channel.

-Radio Shack opens at 6am Friday morning. Anyone standing outside of a Radio Shack at 5:59am needs to seriously consider the option of suicide.

-Did I mention that the Jets really really suck?

-Back to football, I don't think players from sucky teams should be in TV commercials. It might not be Chad Johnson's fault that the Bengals are shit, but I don't want to hear from him.

-I hope everyone had a great day.

Louisville 68 UNLV 48

I just watched the University of Louisville Cardinals play the University of Nevada at Las Vegas Rebels in a game of college basketball. Since I spent almost four years in the Vegas area, did any part of me want UNLV to do well in this game? No.

You see, no one in Las Vegas gives a ferret's fuckknob about UNLV basketball. As a local I tried to fit in, so I didn't care about them either. And I still don't.

The announcers of the game tonight, a guy with the personality of a bed of kelp and a guy with the personality of a park bench, kept referring to the "great crowd" at the Thomas and Mack Center in Las Vegas, but when the cameras showed the entire arena the upper deck was empty.

Bed of Kelp: "What a great crowd here in Vegas."

Park Bench: "This is a great crowd for college basketball."

Really, it was a great crowd for high school basketball. For college basketball, it sucked. As much as things are constantly changing in Las Vegas, it's comforting to know that overwhelming indifference to UNLV basketball is a constant.

So I'm old. Sue me.

Scarlet Hip, who is neither scarlet nor hip, but who is older than me, is right...I am old. Further proof of this was presented tonight when I went grocery shopping and a bunch of teenagers were running around the parking lot, pushing some girl in a shopping cart and screaming the lyrics to emo songs. As I watched this odd behavior, my thoughts ranged from "There should be a god damn curfew" to "For the good of society, all of these people need to be forcibly sterilized."

Yesterday a pizza saved my life

Saturday night I went to see a local band play at a venue about two blocks from where I'm house-sitting this week. In other words, I didn't have to worry about drinking and driving; I could just stagger back after the show.

Let's just say I had a problem pacing myself. I had been having a bad ...uh... life, and drinking Maker's Mark two at a time seemed like a good idea. It wasn't.

I don't remember a note played by the fine band I went to see. Seriously, people asked "How was the show?" and I had to say "Your guess is as good as mine." (Dave, Alisha, you were both there. How was it?)

The next day, I was hurting. I felt like I had gone back in time to 1988, walked up to Mike Tyson, and insulted his mother. Not that present-day Tyson couldn't kick my ass, but the was a Tyson-in-his-prime hurt.

My first idea was to go to Cumberland Brews and have a few of their fabulous beers. They tasted good, but did nothing to quell the sense of impending death that hung over my hangover.

Thank the god of your choice for Impellizeri's. A few slices of my favorite pizza saved my life. The next time you're in Louisville, I'll take you there.

I'm the only person who cares about this

Is this a picture from the latest episode of Dateline's To Catch a Predator? No, if you look closely this guy doesn't have a gravy stain on his shirt, so he can't be an internet perv. This is Steve Kragthorpe, the man who, in less than a full season, has ruined the University of Louisville football program.

KRAPthorpe, as he's known locally, inherited a team that last season went 12-1 and won the Orange Bowl. He lost a few players on defense, but all of the offense returned, including a quarterback who turned down NFL riches to play his senior season in his hometown.

Let this be a lesson to you kids: Go pro early! This season, under the "leadership" of this man and his incompetent band of assistants, the team is 5-6 with one game to go. They lost yesterday by the score of 51-17. That's a lopsided loss for those of you who don't follow the game.

As if that wasn't enough, the team has been highlighted as an example of complete and utter failure by both ESPN and Sports Illustrated, so our shame has gone national.

After a home loss at the hands of a 38-point underdog (the second largest point spread upset in the history of gambling!) Louisville's athletic director had the titanium testicles to say "Steve is the perfect coach to rebuild this program." Ok, but it didn't need to be rebuilt until he broke it!

When I was younger they used to give University of Louisville football tickets to school kids who had perfect attendance, and even they didn't show up. "No, it's cold out. I don't want to catch pneumonia watching shitty football and miss school," they said. At other times they'd sell tickets at local convenience stores for $5. It cost more to go to a flea market. A couple more seasons like this one and everyone's invited to a game, my treat.

Finally, a Christmas album I like

Frank Sinatra may not have been the "holiest" guy to record a Christmas album. He probably showed up at the studio late and started drinking Jack Daniels. If the producer gave him any lip, Frank would punch the bum in the face. Then, when he felt like it, he would lay down his tracks.

After the recording, Frank would go out to dinner with his mob friends and eat a steak dinner that would stop the beating heart of a lesser man. He'd smoke big obnoxious cigars and drink even more Jack Daniels (with exactly three ice cubes).

He'd finish the evening with his favorite activity, bedding floozies two at a time.

For Frank, every day was Christmas.

I don't know what to think

In the past year I've gone from thinking "Hillary can't win" to "Oh my god, Hillary is the only one who CAN win."

It was one simple thing that Hillary Clinton said at last night's debate in my former temporary home city of Las Vegas: "The Republicans aren't just going to voluntarily give up the White House."

THANK YOU! It's so obvious, so fucking clear to all normal people, but these are politicians. Finally we have a Democrat who knows there's a fight ahead; and that the fight will be fucking brutal.

Al Gore ran in 2000 thinking "How can anyone vote for Bush? He's a dickbrain." John Kerry watched as draft dodgers paid off his fellow veterans to blatantly lie about his war record. He reacted like someone left the pickles off of his Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Hell, John McCain was more upset! HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...Oh, sorry...I was thinking about John Kerry and fell asleep with my finger on the 'H' button.

I still have major reservations about Hillary Clinton, but I'm pretty sure she won't back down when the attack dogs try to rip out her jugular. In fact, she may collect a few jugulars of her own.

Does charity end at work?

The holiday season is just around the corner, because the Salvation Army has released their bell ringers to stand in front of our party store for eight hours a day.

Obviously, the Salvation Army does wonderful things, but they have in two short days burdened us with "employees" who are less than stellar.

I realize that a job standing outside in crappy weather isn't going to attract college graduates, or for that matter people who've never sucked a stranger's dick for crack, but these two guys were worse than I could have imagined. As a cashier supervisor I have enough dim-witted, drug-addled people to deal with without having more brought in from the outside.

The first day their bell ringer stood outside and chastised our customers. According to several accounts, he yelled "Oh, you can go in there and buy liquor but you can't give to the Salvation Army?"

Yeah, that's great for business. People just love to be shamed. Our store manager went out and told the guy his services would no longer be needed. Then the shamer came in and asked me for an application. By law, I had to give him one.

The next day they sent a different derelict. This man smelled like a combination of rancid luncheon meat and Beelzebub's urine, and had exactly 1/2 a tooth in his mouth. He came in, immediately disappeared to the bathroom for forty-five minutes, went outside and rang his bell for about an hour, then came in and announced "I don't want to stand out there. It's too cold."

It was about fifty degrees yesterday. This guy is no Sir Edmund Hillary.

He called the Salvation Army to come pick him up. And he waited. For hours. Outside. Without collecting any money!!! Occasionally he'd come in to use the bathroom, but he had to ask for directions EVERY SINGLE TIME.

I'm going to start selling flowers by the interstate.

Isn't everything just swell?

The Toby Keith Christmas comment acrimony has been canceled. In its place please enjoy a picture of a rainbow over a unicorn.

"Hate speech" from all parties will resume tomorrow.

Christmas Abomination Part Two

Remember yesterday when I said CD covers rarely angered me? Well, I'm eating some Southern-fried crow right about now, because this really pisses me off.

I think the picture was taken by the same meth-addled photographer who snapped Larry the Cable Guy's mug. "Yeah, I had Larry put a Santa hat over his dirty camouflage baseball cap, so I'll have you put a Santa hat over your poseury Stetson. Damn, I'm good. I'm the Ansel Adams of shit."

Okay, first of all the dude is wearing a blouse. It's a woman's blouse from the Hoedown Collection at Lane Bryant. And he's posing the way a D-minus theatre student poses for his senior picture.

And of course, worst of all, he's Toby Fucking Keith. I don't understand why Toby is doing a Christmas album, because there isn't a tragedy to exploit here. How can he incorporate his ignorant jingoism into Deck the Halls? Whose ass will he emptily threaten to kick? Will he blame the absence of a white Christmas on the Dixie Chicks? Can you even say "...boot up their ass..." in a Christmas song? Does he own that blouse in several different colors?

Also, I'm guessing that Toby Keith fans are also, for the most part, Larry the Cable Guy fans. The two go together like chocolate and peanut butter, and when I say "like chocolate and peanut butter" I mean "like human feces and partially digested corn." How are they going to afford BOTH CDs? A lot of folks will be cooking with the off-brand economy lard this holiday season.

Christmas Abomination Part One

Well, I'm not celebrating Christmas this year, or maybe ever again, thanks to this horror.

The other night I was hindered from sleep by thoughts of my shitty job, weight problem, and lack of romantic interests. I was finally able to coax myself to slumber by thinking "At least Larry the Cable Guy doesn't have a Christmas album."

Oh, how wrong I was. This assault on civilization had already been out for weeks as I lay there misleading myself.

I love the fact that it's available on iTunes. "I might live in a trailer park and use my common-law wife as an ashtray, but by god I'm digital!" says the modern day Larry fan. "Come visit me on Christmas Eve for some oatmeal-n-meth scotchies and GHB rapenog."

Very few CD covers anger me, but this is a rare exception. Looking at his insipid face, I can just imagine Larry stumbling around a mall in a sleeveless Santa outfit, telling minority kids they aren't getting anything for Christmas.

TOMORROW: Christmas Abomination Part Two

Fuck a bunch of "melty"

I was watching football this afternoon and two things stuck out: First of all, as a Dallas Cowboys fan I hope the New York Giants keep depending on Eli Manning to lead their team. He had three delay of game penalties today; at home, where the crowd shuts up when you have the ball. He looked like he was all loopy on horse tranquilizers. If Peyton Manning wasn't his brother, the dude would be playing in Canada.

Second, and even more disturbing, there are now two (2) inferior food merchants who describe their products as "melty". First Taco Bell, which is to authentic Mexican cuisine what Domino's is to good pizza; and now Domino's, which is to good pizza what Taco Bell is to authentic Mexican cuisine, have used this stupid made up word to peddle their respective prison chow.

Well, STOP IT! Stop using the word "melty"! And I've arranged it that anyone who repeats the word "melty" over and over in the comments has to give Dane Cook a rimjob. While he does his routine.

The Sundays

The Sundays were a band from Reading, England. They made terrific music back in the day. This is their video for "Here's Where the Story Ends".




There will be more videos, I'm sure, as November grinds to a screeching halt.

Prizes

According to a wonderful friend of mine, this NaBloPoMo thing may in fact lead to VALUABLE PRIZES!

In case you haven't noticed (and judging from the comment counts, you haven't), I'm blogging every day for the month of November. Apparently, if you finish the month having not missed a day, the NaBloPoMo mofoes throw your name into the proverbial pot and you could win something! But what? What are the prizes? I'm not going to win anything anyway, but just in case, I'd like to tell the people in charge what I DON'T WANT.

Please do not award me:

-The Dane Cook dvd collection

-An Olive Garden gift certificate

-A blowjob from Carol Channing

-A latex mold of Ann Coulter's vagina

-Newt Gingrich's collection of homeless people's teeth

-A NaBloPoMo t-shirt. Please, not a fucking t-shirt. First of all, anyone who wears a shirt that reads "NaBloPoMo" is just BEGGING for a vicious beatdown. And they'll send a medium or something my fat ass couldn't possibly wear. So don't even bother.

Thank you.

Endorsements for sale

This is tv evangelist Pat Robertson, presumably jammin' to some Dokken when this picture was taken.

Yesterday, he undoubtedly took a shitload of money from the Republican National Committee in return for his endorsement of professional tragedy exploiter Rudy Giuliani.

Wow, what a coincidence. Rudy, who is on his third marriage, has cheated on twice as many wives as Bill Clinton, and is pro choice and pro gay civil unions, is the Republican's only hope in the general election. Unfortunately for those who want to keep the country heading in its present death spiral, the Religious Right threatens to block his nomination in the primaries.

But now the Religious Right just had a bone thrown their way. A guy who uses Jesus Christ to rip off the old and the sick has officially endorsed Rudy. Damn, Giuliani must be okay after all if someone who steals money from the feeble-minded in the name of God supports him. He'll get the nomination for sure now!

As a funny aside, just a few years ago Pat Robertson indirectly blamed Rudy for the 9/11 attacks. Wait, let me explain. While bodies were still being pulled from the rubble of the World Trade Center, Jerry Falwell was on Robertson's television show, blaming the attack on "abortionists". Robertson said, "I agree." Those words would lead me to believe that Robertson did indeed "agree" with Falwell's sentiments. Since Rudy Giuliani has always been pro choice (or an "abortionist" in crazy speak), Robertson and his now-dead pal sort of blamed him for attacking his own city. Wacky stuff, huh?

I wonder why Pat Robertson would endorse a man with whom he disagrees so vehemently? I'm guessing there was a big pile of money involved. The filthy lucre always has been Robertson's real god, anyway.

Sore Winner

Yesterday Democrat Steve Beshear defeated incumbent indicted criminal Ernie Fletcher to become Kentucky's latest governor, or HHIC (Head Hillbilly in Charge).

During his acceptance speech, Beshear graciously reached out to all Kentuckians, saying that we all need to work together blah blah. "Extending the olive branch" to political foes is a common theme of acceptance speeches, and I for one am sick of the pandering. If I was ever elected Governor of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, I'd use my speech to serve notice to my enemies that vengeance is nigh. It would go a little something like this:

"According to the media I'm going to get about sixty percent of the vote. In political terms, that's something of a landslide and I appreciate the support I've received throughout the state. However, that leaves forty percent of the voters who supported my opponent, a man who spent the past year saying horrible things about me and the beliefs I hold dear. To them, I issue a big heartfelt FUCK YOU! First of all, you're on the losing team, losers; so congratulations on that. Also, don't think we don't know how you voted. Do you really think the ballots are secret? Naive fools!

"Supporters of my disgraced opponent, rest assured that I'm going to spend my every waking moment as governor seeing that the rest of your time on earth is a living hell. I will raise YOUR taxes exclusively while lowering the burden on those who voted for me. And since I don't want to waste the state's precious resources on people who hate me, your children aren't allowed to go to our schools and you are forbidden from driving on our roads. Finally, I'm going to randomly pick forty children of my political enemies and force them to toil in a makeshift sweatshop we're creating in the basement of the Governor's mansion. There, they will work fifteen-hour days cutting and sewing material to make my big and tall suits.

"Oh, there will be more hardships you'll have to endure. I'm sure I'll think of them when I'm sober. And now members of Howard Stern's Wack Pack will fart My Old Kentucky Home."

Do I have your vote?

Election Day Musings

Today was election day and I was off work because Kentucky state law prohibits the sale of alcohol while the polls are open. Oh, how I love pointless, arcane laws.

Last year I really showed them. I bought a fifth of bourbon the night before election day, drank it the next day and stumbled to my voting place to officially vote while intoxicated! Ha ha ha! How dare the man try to keep me down (I was promptly arrested for public intoxication).

Last night, as alluded to in the previous post, I went to see the Comedians of Comedy tour starring Patton Oswalt. All three comedians were extremely funny and I almost laughed myself out of the soul-deflating funk I've been in. Almost.

My favorite moment from last night was when Patton went off on some asshole attention-seeking heckler. Folks, I've been to a lot of concerts and no one from the audience has ever screamed out ANYTHING that was even remotely funny to anyone but themselves and their stupid friends. "Hey, I'm drunk in public. Obviously everyone wants to hear what I have to say."

WRONG! Shut your fucking twinkie-hole, dickface; or a professional comedian will emasculate you in front of hundreds of people. You will not, I promise you, be the first audience member in the history of stand-up comedy to make the audience laugh with you and not at you. If you want to entertain a crowd, jump off the Second Street bridge at rush hour.

Patton Oswalt is funny

I'm going to see comedian Patton Oswalt tonight. He's great because:

-He says "I'm a man without a country because I hate both George Bush AND hippies." That's my world view, people.

-His rant on KFC Famous Bowls is classic: "America has spoken: 'Pile my food in a fucking bowl. I don't give a shit anymore. If there's any way you could put my dinner in a blender and liquify it and then put it in a caulking gun and inject it into my femoral artery, that would be even better; but I know you don't have a lunch gun yet, so until you invent that, just make me a fucking failure pile in a sadness bowl.'"

There are other reasons he's great, but I gotta go.

This Just In: Americans Hate Winter

Here's a list of the ten American cities that have had the largest percentage population increase since 2000:

1. Las Vegas
2. Phoenix
3. Austin
4. Atlanta
5. Orlando
6. Charlotte
7. Houston
8. Dallas
9. Sacramento
10. Jacksonville, FL

Notice anything about these cities? None of them have real winters. People are moving away from any semblance of cold water. The top two cities are deserts, for fuck's sake!

I'm suddenly unsure about our citizenry's commitment to reverse global warming.

I've been better...

I think this poster is funny, but loneliness is only part of the soul-crushing depression I've been feeling lately. After all, I'm only lonely in the romantic relationship sense; I have friends and drinking buddies and people who are nice to me out of pity, so I'm usually only truly alone when I want to be. Or when I want to have sex. Yeah, no one's lining up for that.

But still, I have been none too chipper for a fortnight and a half. I think I need to find a nice drug to make me feel content all the time, one to make me forget that I'm old and fat and make an illegal alien salary (but worse, because I'm taxed on it).

Actually, that drug already exists. It's a miracle elixir by the name of alcohol, or as comedian Patton Oswalt calls it, "Pain go bye-bye juice". Unfortunately, I can't drive or work when I'm under its sweet sweet influence. And god damn it, those are the situations when I need it most!

For instance, I find driving to be infuriating. I want to be rich so I can just ride around and never brake for the morons who pull out in front of me. I'd still stop for red lights and such, but if someone pulled out in front of me I'd just run right into them. Seriously, HOW DARE some random fuckerdoodle assume "Oh, I can't wait the two extra seconds for this car to pass. He'll just have to brake for me." Not if I had the money to replace my car several times a day!

And my job....Talk about a place where I need to be drunk. We have a new ignorant redneck manager they transferred over from another store. She is without a doubt the most unpleasant human being I've ever been forced by law to not kill. She's stupid to the point of being a walking parody of herself. Everyone hates her and I, being the consummate professional at work, viciously mock her to the cashiers I'm supposed to be supervising. When she walks away I say, imitating her trailer park accent, "Damn, I gotta find my corn cob pipe! Where is that thang?" She has one of those tight perms with a bad dye job, the kind you see at the supermarket pushing a cart full of instant potatoes and Jeno's Pizza Rolls. She is far too unintelligent to have authority over any person who doesn't drool into a cup strapped to his chin.

Maybe I will take up heroin after all. I'd lose weight and wouldn't be such a load, plus if I was unable to drive or work because of heroin addiction, I'd be too high to care. Expect me to be skinny and blissful by spring.

I review the Twelfth Annual Snuffy Awards

The Snuffy Awards, or Snuffies, is an award show honoring excellence in the field of snuff films. Every year the Snuffies are held at an undisclosed location in Atlantic City or Reno and broadcast live on the Home and Garden channel, for some reason.

Not being a sociopathic millionaire, I've never viewed a snuff film and have no desire to, but this is one awards show I've never reviewed for this blog; and given my decision to blog every single day this month, I felt I had to give this a go.

Needless to say, an awards show honoring films that depict the real-life brutal murder of human beings doesn't exactly draw the A-List celebrities. The show opened by a song from former pseudo-grunge bandwagon riders Candlebox and was hosted by Richard Grieco. Most of the presenters seemed to be crack whores the producers picked up from around the venue, but they did manage to get Flavor Flav and those brats from Laguna Beach to make brief appearances.

In retrospect, I don't even know why these awards were held. The production values were for shit and most of the winning movies had generic titles like Film X2653 and Untitled Snuff Motion Picture.

The acceptance speech for Best Actor: "I accept this award for random homeless guy on his behalf. I'm sure if he was still alive he'd be very proud of this." The award for Best Actress, to anonymous teenage runaway, was also presented posthumously. A couple of the on-screen murderers were honored, but obviously they were keeping a low profile and didn't bother to show up.

The show did end on a high note when a masked man came out and unexpectedly shot Richard Grieco in the back of the head, but it was too little too late.

Overall, this two hour celebration of the seedy underbelly of society was deeply offensive, but somehow less offensive than the Grammys.

Let's blog every damn day. Why not?

Like a lot of other people, I'm going to participate in NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month if you aren't into the whole brevity thing.

The idea, you see, is to blog every single day for the month of November. I used to blog at least five days a week, but then my blog became incredibly unpopular and I lost my motivation.

I still don't have any motivation, but really, what else do I have to do? Does anyone have any suggestions for blog topics? If not, you'll be learning a lot about my breakfast habits.

I'll leave you with a quote from comedian Jim Norton: "Britney Spear's pussy looks like Bill Murray's face in Caddyshack."

It's gonna be a long month.