Friday, August 31, 2007
Save us from the evils of casino gambling, oh great crooked governor
I don't really care if Kentucky gets casino gambling or not, but our current criminal governor, Ernie Fletcher, is making it the centerpiece of his reelection campaign. It makes sense, since as a criminal, he would be ill-served by running on his record.

Gov. Ern is running a series of ads touting his "No Casinos" tour, where he goes to towns that have casino gambling and talks to people whose lives have been ruined by slot machines. Really? What about a "No Cars" tour to talk to those who've been injured in car wrecks?

Speaking of car wrecks, watch out for runaway hypocrisy as the governor of a state known for tobacco and bourbon shows "concern" for the victims of casino gambling. Where's his concern for the cancer-riddled and the booze-addicted? Oh right...that kind of empathy won't get you elected in this state.

Fletcher, who ends his stupid commercials by saying, WITH A STRAIGHT FACE, "Casino gambling? Not in my Kentucky home," doesn't seem to have a problem with the gambling that occurs at our state's famous horse racing tracks; and he doesn't mind the endless number of inner-city merchants who sell Kentucky Lottery tickets to people who live under the poverty level. But gambling in a casino, where there may be a buffet involved? Oh, hell no! That'll flat ruin us!

I'm sure the anti-casino movement will be fully supported by suspicious country folk, paranoid Bible thumpers, and other people Ernie Fletcher doesn't give a fuck about. And I'm just as sure his opponent and the gaming industry will offer casino gambling as the miracle we've all been waiting for. Like I said before, I don't care one way or another.

Why? Because we'll do it half-ass. I'm not saying I want us to compete with Vegas, but who cares about another lame riverboat casino that can't give away alcohol to gamers? If you can guarantee me something as nice as the Green Valley Ranch casino in my neighborhood, I'll be one casino supporting son of a bitch. Otherwise, whatever.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Things I Probably Shouldn't Say
-Michael Vick announced during his "apology" that he found Jesus. I guess Jesus was hiding under a pile of dead dogs.

-I know someone who thinks Dane Cook should be killed. I'll go a step further and recommend the execution of his fanbase. His collection of myspace friends should double as the FBI's Most Wanted List. At the very least we should make them fight our next unnecessary war.

-I heard that Ann Coulter used to do a Donkey Show in Tijuana. She was fired when the donkey complained "Dude, I'm stirring paint out there."

-Yesterday in Louisville, a man ran out of a bank, were he had held hostages for hours, and pointed a weapon at police, who promptly shot him eleven times. The weapon turned out to be an air rifle. All together now: "You'll shoot your eye out, kid."

-Paul McCartney's latest single is so bad I think they need to let Mark David Chapman out of jail.

Saturday, August 25, 2007
I just read Nick's post about his high school reunion. It was a memorable entry because Nick had a positive experience, and Nick has a positive experience about as often as I have a sensible meal.

However, it didn't make me ever want to go to a high school reunion. I've avoided my various high school reunions the way Paris Hilton avoids not sucking cock when a camera's rolling. I have no interest in seeing anyone from high school, even the people I was friends with back in the day. We obviously weren't good friends or I'd have heard from them in the past century or so.

Do I have any perverse interest in seeing the ravages of middle-age on the various jocks and cheerleaders who made high school life so god damn interminable? Yeah, sure; but not enough to get dressed up and hang out with them in some rental room at a suburban hotel. I hate small talk and social niceties and Southern pseudo-politeness. And I'm not dancing to any god damn Phil Collins songs!

A few months ago I went to a good friend's parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary. I saw a lady I hadn't seen since I was fifteen years old, and for some reason I walked over and reintroduced myself. This girl was always very pretty and time has been very very kind to her.

The conversation didn't last very long, not because she isn't a nice person, but because I had nothing to say. Nothing. What could I say? "Hey, you're still hot. Uh, yeah, I'm still fat but I'm much taller now. Um, I still have all my hair. Bye now." Nope, not even an option.

Why do I have absolutely no interest in reunions? My mom's side of the family is having a reunion tomorrow and I really don't want to waste a day off talking to those people and eating casseroles. I'd rather be at the brewpub.

Do any of you people like forced social situations? If so, please explain why.

Thursday, August 23, 2007
The NAACP Drops the Ball

Apparently the Civil Rights movement has finally succeeded in ending discrimination in America! We're all living in harmony with one another and operating on a completely level playing field. How do I know this? Well, the NAACP has time to defend Michael Vick, so obviously racism as we know it has ended. Why else would they ignore more pressing concerns to make a plea on behalf of a spoiled, arrogant millionaire?

From the Associated Press: "As a society, we should aid in his rehabilitation and welcome a new Michael Vick back into the community without a permanent loss of his career in football," said R.L. White, president of the group's Atlanta chapter. "We further ask the NFL, Falcons, and the sponsors not to permanently ban Mr. Vick from his ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country."

Perhaps, as a white guy, I have no right to say this, but the NAACP needs to get its fucking priorities straight. Forget disenfranchisement and poverty, as long as Michael Vick gets to quarterback the Atlanta Falcons on Monday Night Football the day after he gets out of prison. The Mayor of Atlanta could declare it "Michael Vick Day" and have members of the Armed Services carry him to midfield before the game. And why should poor Michael lose his endorsement deals?

I'll tell you why: Because he's a motherfucking dog killer. I don't always agree with PETA, but it's not like Michael Vick refuses to eat dolphin-safe tuna or bought his girlfriend a fur coat. He operated a dogfighting ring and murdered the dogs who didn't perform. Cruella DeVick should be banned from the NFL for life. Period.

Let's look closer at the NAACP's statement:"As a society, we should aid in his rehabilitation..." No, that's the prison's job. This is one fucked up society we live in; too fucked up to worry about throwing rose petals at the feet of someone who was paid millions to run fast. Can we solve ONE problem before we coddle Michael Vick? Pretty please?

"...welcome a new Michael Vick back into the community..." I hope it's a new Michael Vick, because the old one was a piece of shit.

"...ability to bring hours of enjoyment to fans all over this country." The guy who wrote this needs to quit his job at the NAACP and write copy for infomercials.

Also, it is extremely arrogant on the part of the NAACP to tell the Falcons owner how to spend his money. He gave Michael Vick a $100 million dollar contract, and Vick lied to his face. This is betrayal on a personal level, and I won't suggest the Falcons owner should never forgive Vick if the NAACP doesn't imply he has to.

Unlike a lot of animal lovers, I'm not suggesting that Vick be killed in the same manner the dogs were executed; nor am I advocating twenty years in prison. However, Michael Vick deserves to be banned for life from the NFL for what he did. If he truly becomes a "changed man" in prison, he can take his changed ass down to the employment office and find a real job like everyone else.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007
I'm being mocked by the gods of Hollywood
The other night, as I settled into a comfortable chair at the local suburban multiplex, anxiously awaiting the two hour string of hilarious dick jokes better known as Superbad, I saw a preview for a movie called Good Luck Chuck, starring my least favorite comedian, Dane Cook. All right, this is bad so far, but not unexpected. Millions of teenagers are highly amused by repetition and silent-film-era emoting, so Dane Cook is going to get movie deals. It isn't any more offensive to me than the careers of Tom Cruise or Keanu Reeves.

But then, they reveal his love interest in the film: JESSICA ALBA! Say it ain't so, Jess. Say it ain't so. Good god, this is an unprecedented horror. Was there a focus group created specifically to cause me the most inner pain imaginable? Was the group's sole agenda to crush my already wounded spirit and finish the job of making me dismiss movies as a viable medium (a task started by The Phantom Menace in 1999)?

Take a look at the official web page of this film. Check out Jessica in all of her glory, standing next to the entitled smirk of Dane Cunting Cook. The look on his face makes me want to run him down with a steamroller. Letting Dane Cook star in a movie in which he gets to make out with Jessica Alba is the biggest injustice since...Sorry, I can't think of an injustice that even comes close! Tommy Lee deserves a bigger cock more than Dane Cook deserves this role.

With this movie, it is now official: The Douchebagging of America is at long last complete. Those of us who aren't total douchebags from cradle to grave have lost, and must bow in the presence of Dane Cook and his omnipresent smirk.

Or throw acid in his face. Either way.

yournamehere's lawyer adds: This post is meant as satire and in no way encourages the disfigurement of Dane Cook.

Yes, it totally does.

No it does not.

Saturday, August 18, 2007
My job sucks the knobby cock of Satan
Well, kiddos, it's been an interesting last couple of days at the shit factory. Maybe it was the record-breaking heatwave that melted the tiny brains of our customer base and most of my coworkers; or maybe this is further punishment for having drawn and quartered the Lindberg baby in my past life. Either way, there were several times in the past seventy-two hours when I wanted to smack someone across the face with a bag of ice.

When I came to work Thursday I was met with the news that two of our cashiers had just had a loud, nearly physical confrontation on the sales floor. Good for Springer, bad for business. Personally I don't care if these guys drop anvils on one another while onlookers shower them with arcade tokens and dirty panties. But as a cashier supervisor, I'm contractually obligated to frown upon such activity.

One of the cashiers, whom I'll call Crazy Ass Motherfucker, is a crazy ass motherfucker. He always asks people for money, even on payday. Also, we received a call from a man who said his daughter is being harassed by Crazy Ass Motherfucker, who apparently has been using the store's phone to call this poor girl.

But did threatening a coworker and using our phone to commit a possible felony get Crazy Ass Motherfucker fired? Of course not. He was merely sent home for the day. Fuck, the next time I want the day off I'm just going to dropkick a stock boy and call a random chick and yell "CUNT!" into the phone.

A few hours later, one of our other cashiers got into a shouting match with a supervisor. Now, this particular supervisor is an old, miserable son of a fuck, but I didn't want to lose one of the only cashiers who can count to eleven without whipping out his dick, so this wasn't a good thing.

Just when that settled down, it started to thunderstorm. Normally that isn't a big deal, but it is when your newest employee, a grown woman, is afraid of thunder and spends several minutes cowering in a corner in the fetal position. Why, baby Jesus? Why?

The next day was highlighted by Crazy Ass Motherfucker leaving the store in the middle of the shift and asking a stranger for a ride in his van. Then he called an hour later and asked for his job back. This time, he was finally fired.

That may have been the weirdest thing that happened, but it wasn't the most disgusting. That would have been the elderly gentleman with the elastic shorts pulled up to his chin who decided to sit on our front counter and give the planet earth an unobstructed view of his horrid old man balls! Then, I swear, his wife comes up to the cash register and asks "Where do you keep the nuts?" I had to walk away.

Saturday was rather uneventful, except it further proved my theory that only morons buy kegs of beer. No one cool has ever purchased a keg, at least at our store. One shithead didn't collect enough dollar bills from fellow members of the Clay Aiken Fan Club to afford both a keg and tap, so he just left with the keg. Maybe he knows a man-whore who can suck the beer out through a short length of hose.

Someone help me find a new job!

Thursday, August 16, 2007
Something that brings us all together as one

As Americans, we are truly a country divided. But there is one thing that unites the vast majority of us: A deep-seeded hatred of the New York Yankee baseball team.

Unless you live in New York, or are an expatriate escaping like a coward to warmer climes, you hate the fucking Yankees.* Black, white, Republican, Democrat, gay, straight; it's truly a melting pot of abject loathing.

Right now there's a lawyer in Boston hoping Derek Jeter gets the clap from the latest coke-addled model he's banging. At the same time, a stripper in Atlanta laughs out loud when she hears through the starfucker grapevine that steroid use has left Jason Giambi impotent and hung like a tater tot. Two people with absolutely nothing else in common are unknowingly brought together by good ol' fashioned sports hatred.

Hell, I think Ben Affleck is one of the worst actors of this or any generation, but two things will forever keep him off of my Shovel Justice list: He's famous for being a generous tipper; and he hates the New York Yankees with an intensity that's borderline insane. If he could channel just a small percentage of that passion to his acting, he'd make Robert Deniro look like Vin Diesel.

Even in Chicago, Cubs fans might think of White Sox fans as a bunch of "shirtless-father-and-son-duo-wannabe yokels" and Sox fans might think the North Siders are all "pinky-extended latte sippers", but I'm fairly certain they hate the Yankees more than they hate each other. I read in an article that Chicagoans don't like shopping at Macy's because it's too identifiable with New York City, so they have to hate the god damn Yankees.

*Of course some people with zero ties to New York are Yankee fans. These punks are soulless frontrunners and should never be employed, befriended, or sexed up.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Bye Bye Rove

Hey look, kids; it's a picture of Karl Rove showing a potential female suitor the size of his erect penis.

In case you haven't read it elsewhere, Rove is resigning at the end of the month. Karl Rove is commonly referred to as "Bush's Brain". Isn't being known as "Bush's Brain" kind of like being known as "Stephen Hawking's Legs"? Was that a cheap shot? I didn't think so.

So what's Karl Rove going to do with all of his free time? Well, he's rededicating himself to his first love: Killing sick children. As Rove told the Associated Press "When I think of all of the resources wasted on these gimpy little kids who probably aren't going to get better anyway, it just makes me want to vomit. I say kill them, and grind their bones to make my paperweights."

Of course, trying to convert the nation's Ronald McDonald Houses into death camps won't take all of Rove's time, so he also plans to learn to play the accordion.

Good luck, Human Personification of Pure Evil!

Saturday, August 11, 2007
Things that are pissing me off lately
-I've never been a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, but I have begrudging respect for what was until now a proud franchise. Hall of Fame linebacker Jack Lambert once played an entire half of a football game on a broken leg, for the sake of fuck. But now they've entered the world of lame-ass mascots with the unfortunately named Steely McBeam. That's right, Steely McBeam. The mascot of the five-time World Champion Pittsburgh Steelers has a name fit for a male porn star. When I first heard the name, I thought to myself "Isn't he the main reason Jenna Jameson only does girl-on-girl now?"

-Apparently the hip new thing to do if you're an overprivileged suburban faux thug is to order a beverage from a fast food drive-thru, yell "Fire in the hole" and throw the beverage back at the fast food worker. Of course this entire heinous act is filmed, because what's the point of doing anything in life if it won't make you a star on youtube? To make it worse, there's even an online "recipe" that tells the douchepunks what to add to the beverage to make it sting the worker's eyes!

One day some spoiled little shit is going to get seriously hurt by an irate victim of this little stunt. In my opinion, it can't happen soon enough! In fact, I hereby declare war on upper middle class teenagers. The next time I see a sixteen-year-old kid yapping on his iphone while walking across the mall parking lot to a luxury car he couldn't possibly afford on his own, I'm chucking a milkshake at the motherfucker. Let's fly that up the youtube flag and see who salutes.

-Before September 11, 2001, Rudy Giuliani was about as popular among New Yorkers as a tourist who takes a long time to order at a deli. But Rudy, to his credit, said all the right things in the aftermath of the attacks, and has been living on that goodwill ever since.

Well, now he's gone and fucked up the only thing he had going for him (By the way, I'm taking these quotes directly from the Fox News website, so there's no liberal bias THIS time).

From Fox: Guiliani said, "I was at Ground Zero as often, if not more, than most of the workers. ... I was there working with them. I was exposed to exactly the same things they were exposed to."

A New York City fire captain whose son — also a firefighter — was killed in the attacks said — "That's insulting and disgraceful. He's a liar. I was down there on my hands and knees looking for my son. [Giuliani is] living in a dreamland."

A Queens paramedic who was a first responder added — "I personally find that very, very insulting. Standing there doing a photo-op and telling the men, 'You're doing a good job,' I don't consider that to be working."

Ouch. I think he made those guys mad. When you piss on the graves of people's family and co-workers, they tend to react negatively.

Thursday, August 09, 2007
Who's Now? Who Gives a Fuck? (And oh yeah, Dane Cook sucks)

As an overweight American male, I watch a great deal of Sportscenter on ESPN. Well, someone decided to ruin a perfect show by introducing an overblown, overhyped segment called "Who's Now?" It's finally over, but the aftershock of its stupidity may haunt me for the remainder of the decade.

"Who's Now?" was where the American public votes for which spoiled athlete has the most "on- and off-field buzz".

It's yet another example of the American Idol-ization of popular culture. People just love to vote on subjects that have no bearing on their lives. Idiots flood phone lines and the internets to vote on which androgynous fop sang the best vapid pop tune and which has-been celebrity danced the best pseudo-salsa; so why not have a sport popularity contest that not only celebrates on-field excellence, but also takes into account sell-out endorsement deals and the number of b-list actresses and nightclub cocktail waitresses fucked during the off season?

And don't forget that more people vote in these insipid contests than vote for WHO'LL BE THE NEXT LEADER OF THE FREE GOD DAMN WORLD! But that's not the important part. The important part is how they're fucking up Sportscenter.

Another feature I hate is when Sportscenter drags out a morose sissy named Chris Connelly to do a feature on some kid who "overcame adversity" or an athlete who spends five minutes of time with a kid who is trying to "overcome adversity". Save it for the telethon, Weepy McWeeperton.

Before everyone dumps on me for being a heartless asshole, imagine you're watching a show you enjoy. If you like American Idol, for example, what would you think if they interrupted it to spotlight a kid whose legs were crushed by a karaoke machine? When I watch Sportscenter I want to see highlights of overpaid freaks of nature and/or banned substance abusers run, jump, catch and occasionally brawl. Bonus points if they show sideline shots of cheerleaders or other scantily clad young women. Extra bonus points if they show post-game press conference melt downs.

So, corporate vipers in charge of Sportscenter, thanks for making it damn near unwatchable. Congratulations.

Also, Tiger Woods apparently won this contest, and that bothers me. Tiger had a reputation in Vegas as a bad tipper. Sorry, but in my mind, bad tipper = bad human being. I can't get past that.

Speaking of ESPN and bad human beings, they're running ads for the baseball playoffs. Yeah, that's ok in and of itself, but the ads star myspace's own Dane Cook. Ugh. Perhaps if his funny bone was subjected to Barry Bonds' steroid regimen he'd actually say something amusing. If not, at least the steroids would shrinks his testes to the size of raisins, and that would make me laugh.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007
I just can't do Weight Watchers, man

Someone took a picture of me eating pizza at Impellizeri's on Sunday. Yeah, I think I need to lose a few layers of toppin's and fixin's.

Weight Watchers, unfortunately, is out of the question. The last time I joined Weight Watchers I was very successful at losing weight in the beginning, but then I stopped going to the meetings. Why? Because too many people there had filthy, unwashed hair!

That's a good reason to die alone and morbidly obese, isn't it? I think so. When it comes to a dirty, stinky mop head, this Dude does NOT abide.

And frankly, the neighborhood in Henderson, NV where I last attended Weight Watchers was in a rather upscale area. Imagine the foul, squalid head-thatch on display among people who make the kind of money I make. I shudder to think!

So I'm probably going to start living on a diet of iceberg lettuce and Coke Zero.

Monday, August 06, 2007

An ass...

...a hole in the ground.

You're welcome, sir.

Friday, August 03, 2007
Who needs cartoons when there's real life?
Friday had a distinct cartoonish vibe to it. First of all, one of our cashiers, who looks just like Francine, the bully who terrorizes Lisa Simpson, called in and gave her zero day notice.

Here's a transcript of the phone conversation.

"Francine": "Todd, I quit. I got a job at a hospital."

Me: "As what, a CPR dummy?"

"Francine": *CLICK*

Me: "Bitch hung up on me."

Earlier in the day, we had a female customer (yes, a woman) who - minus the beard - looked, dressed, and talked EXACTLY like Stinky Pete the Prospector from Toy Story 2.

Yes, she had the oversized cowboy hat. Yes, she had the overalls. Yes, she had the rotund figure.

I wanted to ask if there was a Toy Story Fest I wasn't aware of, but she was apparently late for a rootin' tootin' roundup; she didn't stick around for long.

Hell, with the war in Iraq still going on, I'm just glad I didn't see the Little Man From the Draft Board.

Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Worst. Comparison. Ever.
Last night I was watching GoodFellas on AMC. I own the movie on DVD, but I was in a pissy mood yesterday and had to watch the scene where Henry Hill pistol-whips his girlfriend's neighbor. During one of the many commercials, AMC ran a blurb across the screen that read "If you're enjoying GoodFellas, you'll love Marked for Death."

What??? If I'm enjoying GoodFellas, a modern cinematic masterpiece starring Robert Deniro, then I'll obviously love the Steven Seagal vehicle Marked for Death? Fuck, blood is pouring from my eyes just re-reading that sentence! Deniro was in The Godfather, Part Two; Steven Seagal was in a bunch of fucking Steven Seagal films.

GoodFellas was directed by Martin Scorsese, who also directed Raging Bull and Taxi Driver. Marked for Death was directed by Dwight H. Little, the man responsible for Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers. THE ONLY THING THESE FILMS HAVE IN COMMON IS THAT PEOPLE DIE IN THEM. Like my friend Brooke said, "That's what they think of men: 'You like killing? We have more killing for you.'"

I wonder what other fine films AMC will pair with complete piles of crap. Perhaps the following:

"If you're enjoying The Sting, you'll love Gigli."

"If you're enjoying Monty Python and the Holy Grail, you'll love Dude, Where's My Car."

"If you're enjoying Platoon, you'll love Red Dawn."

Perhaps outside companies will employ this strategy during films shown on AMC:

"If you're enjoying Schindler's List, you'll love Hogan's Heroes: The Complete First Season, now available on DVD."