What's the real story, Tiger?

I've never understood why Tiger Woods is such a big deal. He's good at golf. Golf. Not a sport, not a sport, a hobby. Golf. He's almost a billionaire because he's good at a hobby. Why not bestow near-billionaire status on someone who's really good at collecting stamps or excellent at solving crossword puzzles? Can I get hundreds of millions of dollars for drinking beer while watching NFL football? It's kind of a hobby of mine, after all...

Also, Charles Barkley, who is Tiger's friend, says that Tiger doesn't tip when they go out. Really? You've been handed a billion dollars for excelling at what normal people do to kill time after they retire from real work, and you can't give a few of those dollars to those who actually have a job? Fuck you.

However, this past week I was watching television and a breaking report said that Tiger was in "serious condition" after a car wreck near his house. I really felt bad. Honestly, I did. Just because a guy has a shitload of totally undeserved money and stiffs waitstaff, that doesn't mean I want him to die in a car crash.

Thankfully, he was never in serious condition. The official, Nike-approved story said that he was leaving his house in the middle of the night and ran his car into a fire hydrant and a tree. His loving wife ran outside, conveniently carrying one of his golf clubs, and smashed out the vehicle's back window to free him from a moderately damaged "death trap".

Internet news sites that don't suck at Nike's corporate teet are calling bullshit on that story. To them, it seems like a strange coincidence that this "accident" happened a day after adultery allegations surfaced.

I'm no reporter, nor do I play one on the internet, but it seems a lot more plausible that Tiger was leaving the house at that hour to get away from his wife, who was trying to smash his fucking head in. When he hopped in his car, she smashed the window out instead, causing him to drive erratically and crash.

Of course, if this blog is being read by a Tiger Woods/Nike attorney, this is pure speculation on my part and common sense is not admissible in a court of law. And I'm sure he's refusing to cooperate with police because he hates the spotlight so much. He's a real shrinking violet, that Tiger Woods.

So, special report that falsely claimed Tiger Woods was near death, thanks a lot for making me feel guilty for not liking this douchebag.

Work

-The other day this wannabe thug put in an application for employment. His first personal reference: "Frank". No last name, no address, no occupation. Just "Frank". The store manager took one look at it and tore the application into teeny tiny pieces, then burned the pile, then placed the ashes in a Grecian urn, then encased the urn in cement and threw it into the Ohio River.

-Yesterday I noticed an old man in the line of a brand new cashier. Old man + barely trained cashier = trouble, because old people are horrible and eager to pounce on any perceived human imperfection, despite the fact that they themselves are unable to control their own bowels.

I was about to go over there before he could start complaining, but I was interrupted by a customer who wanted "The red wine I had the other night at Red Lobster." Since I wasn't at the fucking Led Robster with this bint and her vapid family, I had no idea what she was talking about. She seemed upset that I didn't possess the psychic abilities to pull the illusive wine's name out of thin air, but I finally convinced her to call Red Lobster and ask them which overpriced vino they commonly sell to people with poor taste.

Just then, the inevitable: "Hey, you! You, come over here. She's new and doesn't know what she's doing!" Big fucking surprise, the old man was berating our new cashier.

"She says she can't take a check! That's bullshit," the old man bellowed.

I love to correct old people. "Sir, we didn't swear at you. Kindly refrain from swearing at us."

"Well, I know for a fact that this store accepts checks."

More correction from me to him. "No sir, we haven't accepted checks for well over a year."

"I just wrote a check in here less than a month ago," he proclaimed.

"I assure you we haven't taken checks since August of 2008." Then I added, just because I could, "It was the happiest day of my retail life when we stopped taking them."

His last line of defense: "Well, they take checks at Kohl's. They have one of those machines where it approves the check and immediately takes the money out of your account."

OH, IN OTHER WORDS, THE CHECK ACTS LIKE A DEBIT CARD? THEN WHY NOT USE A GOD DAMN DEBIT CARD?!?!?? Because the debit card is efficient and doesn't inconvenience others, thus making it undesirable for old people. If they cared about other people, they'd stop driving giant cars that their diminished capacities can't possibly keep in the assigned lane. And they'd bathe more often.

"We do accept debit cards, sir," the new cashier said. It takes less than a day for anyone who works at our store to learn to hate elderly functional alcoholics.

He ignored her, still talking to me. "You need to get one of those machines like they have at Kohl's."

I finally had heard enough. We are a liquor store. We sell the ol' "pain-go-bye-bye juice". Kohl's sells fucking khaki pants and coffee makers, and are less likely to have desperate, check-stealing felons for customers. If Kohl's ever decides to acquire a chain of liquor stores, perhaps in their naivete they'll allow checks; but until then, tough shit. Before walking away, I said "Well, we don't take checks, sir. Have a nice day."

Know that if anyone in retail ever says "Have a nice day" they really mean "Go fuck yourself."

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, I suppose.

Giving credit where credit is due

In the past, this blog hasn't been very nice to Jimmy Fallon. I believe Mr. Fallon has been described by the blog owner as "a talentless pail of cesspool run-off" and "the worst talk show host ever in the history of anything." His movie Fever Pitch was mentioned as "the film that made liking the Red Sox almost as douchey as liking the Yankees." Almost.

But then I saw this clip of Fallon as Neil Young, singing the theme song to Fresh Prince of Bel Air. It's damn funny.



He should just do more of this sort of thing and never try to tell a joke or even talk.

People from Louisville on TV, and it isn't "Cops"!

Louisville band My Morning Jacket, who I've written about in the past, appears in cartoon form on American Dad tonight. Ok, it isn't Family Guy, but it isn't The Cleveland Show either. Ugh, have you seen The Cleveland Show? I'd say Dane Cook wrote it, but it isn't douchey enough.

The band recorded their voices over a year ago, and my friend Linda, who is married to one of the band members, writes about the experience here. There are pictures and everything!

Linda went to the Grammys this year when the band was nominated. That more than makes up for having to be nice to Leno.

-Also, may I recommend a purchase? No? Well fuck you, I'm recommending one anyway! The It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Christmas DVD may be the funniest thing I've ever seen. Where else can you see a couch "give birth" to Danny Devito? Or watch a grown man attack a mall Santa? Watch it with all of your relatives on Christmas Day and they will be horrified beyond comprehension! You'll be banned from all future family functions and can spend next Christmas in piece and quiet.

A New Goal

I've struggled my whole life with fattyness, mostly because I like to eat unhealthy foods and drink sweet, delicious booze. Every once in a while, I'll get temporarily motivated and lose weight, but the motivation inevitably wanes and the pounds come back. But I think I finally have an answer to my problem.

By this time next year, my goal is to be One Night Standable.

Simply put, I want to be able to have an occasional night of good old fashioned no strings attached consensual banging. I think massive weight loss would allow this to occur. Right now, no woman is looking at me at a bar or wherever and thinking, "There's the guy I want to make bad decisions with." Or if she's an English teacher, "There's the guy with whom I want to make bad decisions."

For those who think this is monumentally shallow, please hear me out. YOU HAVE NOT BEEN ON THE DATES I'VE BEEN ON! You have not endured the strained conversation, the forced niceties, the awkward pauses, the unmistakable musk of middle-aged desperation!

I'm not blaming my dates, even though I seem to attract a lot of Nickleback fans and women who are just coming off the worst relationship since Ike Turner dragged Tina around by her stage wig. No, the fault lies with me and my increasing unwillingness to tolerate The Curse.

What is The Curse? The Curse is: EVERY WOMAN I'D LIKE TO HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH IS EITHER UNINTERESTED OR UNAVAILABLE.

The problem is me. Honestly, I don't like a whole lot of people. But because of The Curse, I force myself to be a social being, going on dates to places I hate and laughing at stories I find life-sappingly boring. It just isn't working out, and those women deserve better than someone who'd rather be doing anything than talking to them.

My dating cycles are kind of like my weight gain/loss cycles. Every few months loneliness motivates me to dive back into the dating pool. I jump in, struggle to avoid drowning, and then lose the motivation altogether.

So what does any of this have to do with my goal of becoming One Night Standable? Well, as a human being I get horny, to be perfectly honest. If I want sex, I could lie to or manipulate someone I have no long-term interest in, or I can become One Night Standable. I'm far from perfect (duh, right?) but I refuse to take advantage of someone's emotions just to get laid. Therefore, my only real options are to get all One Night Standable or join a Monastery. And I don't like the brown robes they have to wear.

Real Workplace Conversations

Time for another installment of Real Workplace Conversations.

Come to think of it, this might be the first installment of Real Workplace Conversations.

Actually, I have written before of real workplace conversations, I just didn't label them as such.

So time for the first OFFICIAL installment of Real Workplace Conversations.

(Annoyingly bratty 21-year-old cashier): "Todd, sometimes it's like you have a split personality."

(Me): "No, I come to work in a relatively good mood, then you do something to piss me off, so I'm no longer in a good mood. That isn't a split personality; that's a simple case of cause and effect."

(Annoying bratty 21-year-old cashier): "See, there you go again."

Shooting fish in a barrel: I go "FJM" on Sarah Palin's book.

There used to be a website called Fire Joe Morgan. Their shtick was to take a sports-related newspaper column or TV rant and tear it apart, sometimes sentence by sentence.

Fans of literary abortions are well aware that Sarah Palin has a book coming out, undoubtedly ghost-written by someone who can form coherent sentences. Let's shit on some excerpts, shall we?

"I was quite a cocky young mom-to-be. I'd gone through the requisite childbirth class (we were going to use the Lamaze method), and, being an athlete used to pain, I figured, How tough could giving birth be? Oh. My. Gosh. I thought I was going to die. In fact, I began to pray that I would die. . . I gritted my teeth and willed myself not to scream."

So Sarah has a history, be it with childbirth or running for vice president, of severely overestimating her ability to handle tough situations. "I've played basketball at the high school level, so obviously pushing a human through my vagina will be like eating a piece of taffy."

"Politically, Juneau always had a reputation for being a lot like Animal House: drinking and bowling, drunken brawls, countless affairs, and garden-variety lunchtime trysts."

Drinking AND bowling? Sweet Jesus, it was like Caligula's fuck-den up there!

"The month after Trig was born, Bristol came to Todd and me and told us the shocking news that she was pregnant. Truthfully, I was devastated for my daughter. It wasn't the morality of the situation--what was done was done. It was that I saw her future change in an instant."

Bristol's future immediately changed from being exploited for her teenage wholesomeness to being exploited for her 'choice' to keep the baby. Yeah, that IS quite a change.

"Todd and I were proud of Bristol's selfless decision to have her baby and her determination to deal with difficult circumstances by taking responsibility for her actions. But in no way did I want to send the message that teenage pregnancy was something to endorse, much less glamorize."

Uh huh...that's why Bristol and whatshisname, the hockey-jock who knocked her up, were paraded in front of the nation like a Republican version of Prince Charles and Lady Di.

"For some reason, when the call (to be on the ticket) came at the State Fair, it didn't come as a huge shock. ... I certainly didn't think,' Well, of course this would happen.' But neither did I think 'What an astonishing idea.'"

There was Sarah at the State Fair, just standing near the Tilt-a-Whirl eating fried dough, and she gets the call to run for the vice presidency of the United States. No big whoop.

Have a corn dog to go with that hubris.

"The campaign's 'Tina Fey Fears' turned out to be overblown. Instead, when I met her, she was friendly and gracious. ... Without managers and handles swarming around ... it was just a nice mom moment. 'Believe it or not, I've got Republicans in my family,' Tina said, smiling. 'Believe it or not,' I said, 'I've got Democrats in mine.'"

A witty exchange between two comic masterminds! She leaves out the part where they trade roundhouse kicks to the babymakers.

And I don't care who you are or where you belong on the political spectrum; Sarah's appearance on SNL made the McCain campaign look like a fucking joke. It showed their desperation that she was even allowed to be there.

"My family was made to look like a herd of hillbillies who had come to the big city and started living high on the hog, and that hurt me for them."

"Because - dag nabit - if we want to eat a hog we'll go out and kill one our own selves!"

"Meanwhile, the media blackout continued. It got so bad that a couple of times I had a friend in Anchorage track down phone numbers for me, and then I snuck in calls to folks like Rush Limbaugh, Laura Ingraham, Sean Hannity and someone I thought was Larry Kudlow but turned out to be Neil Cavuto’s producer."

I can see why this book is calling Going Rogue, because that my friends is going fuck-0n rouge! Calling a bunch of sycophants in the echo chamber to reinforce the high opinion you have of yourself is maverickesque TO THE EXTREME!!!

I don't have a direct quote on this one, but apparently Sarah's still bitching about not being able to give a concession speech, even though no vice presidential candidate has ever in the history of anything been allowed to speak after a loss. Her job was to stand there and nod while McCain lied and said she was a great running mate. It wasn't John McCain's responsibility to give her a platform to begin her 2012 candidacy.

As the book is released and I get more passages, I may do a Part Two.

Glenn Beck tries to ruin Christmas

I wish this was some sort of a joke, but Glenn Beck really has a picture book for children, based on a novel he wrote a few years ago. I'm guessing it's some hoary chestnut set a long time ago in an idyllic place that never really existed outside of Glenn Beck's whitebread fantasies.

He and one of his radio lackeys talked about it when it came out, so I'm going to go semi-FJM on them. Join me, won't you?

GLENN: Yes, it's Indoctrination Tuesday where we can indoctrinate...actually this is more like a vaccine. That's what this show is. More of a vaccine so you are not indoctrinated.

A vaccine against what? Truth? Reason? Basic human compassion? Thanks, Glenn, you fucking stain with a voice.

PAT: It's a little bit of an indoctrination so that you've got that indoctrination in your system, you can find out the other indoctrination.

Thanks for the clarification, Glenn Beck's hired toady. Don't you have some coffee to fetch, piss boy?

GLENN: It's actually, it's out in bookstores today. It's a brand new book, The Christmas Sweater. It is the picture book for kids.

"If there's a dollar out there I can get my greasy cock-grabbers on, it's as good as mine."

PAT: The illustration is unbelievable. Absolutely world class.

Now I'm pretty sure Pat has a house full of Thomas Kinkade paintings.

GLENN: It is really really great. It kind of reminds me of my childhood in the 1960s and the 1970s.

"There was this gimpy cripple kid named Stevie. One time I pushed him down a flight of steps at school. Little bastard crapped his pants. Oh, the memories."

Pat: Yeah.

Way to contribute, Pat.

GLENN: And it's just a great story. It is the story of the Christmas Sweater without all the really freaky sad parts.

Wait, there were "freaky sad parts" in the original novel? Did they involve a terminally ill mime who likes yogurt up his ass? Because that would be freaky AND sad.

GLENN: And it's a story about how kids don't always get what they want for Christmas.

Like the kid who wants his sick mother to be able to afford the medicine that keeps her alive. Oh, that's probably a bad example, huh Glenn?

Glenn: Indoctrinate your kids from an early, early age on the real meaning of Christmas. It ain't the toys, it ain't the stuff. It is the magic and the love of the holiday season.

"Am I giving my magical book away for free? Fuck and No."

PAT: And this way you don't need a needle and you don't need to shoot anything up their nose.

Finally, Pat starts earning his right-wing radio keep by saying something retarded!

Look for other right-wing Christmas books this holiday season, including:

Rudolph the Supply-Side Reindeer

Frosty the Snowman Presents Global Warming, My Ass!

Santa Claus Smites All the Gays

Rush Limbaugh's Exclusively White Christmas

Things I've learned from movies

You can learn things from watching movies; at least that's the premise of this lame blog post. Here are some things I've learned. You know, from watching movies.

American Beauty

If you ever spurn the until recently repressed homosexual advances of a homicidally violent ex-Marine, it's a good idea to lock your doors.

The Godfather

Go ahead and kill a prostitute; it'll be as if she never existed.

Pretty Woman

If you kill a prostitute, you'll have to answer to Hector Elzondo and the staff of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel!

Independence Day

Bill Pullman sucks.

She's All That

The only things separating the school outcast from the prom queen are a pair of contacts and a makeover from Anna Paquin.

The Phantom Menace

For this film to have been made, there is obviously no God.

The Last Kiss

Zack Braff really really sucks, as in "Makes Bill Pullman look like Deniro in his prime" sucks.

Rain Man

It's very entertaining to watch an actor play a character of limited intelligence. And Dustin Hoffman was good, too.

Return of the Jedi

As long as you do ONE good thing right before you die, your years of genocidal warmongering will be forgiven.

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Nazis are lousy shots.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off

Chicago-area principals have way too much free time. And are later arrested for collecting child pornography.

Regarding Henry

If you're a cold-hearted, ruthless, unethical lawyer, getting shot in the head will be the best thing that ever happens to you. The bullet will blow that douchiness right out of your frontal lobes, making you everyone's favorite slow-witted sweetheart.

Batman and Robin

Joel Schumaker shouldn't be allowed to direct tampon commercials, let alone Hollywood blockbusters.

Paul Blart, Mall Cop

Never saw it, but seriously...fuck this movie. If you want to see a fat guy run around aimlessly you can watch me play pick-up basketball. And I won't charge you ten bucks for the privilege.

Twilight

Once again, never saw it, but I have a question: Why would a vampire be interested in a girl who looks like she doesn't have any blood in her veins?

Dirty Dancing

If you're a working class guy trying to bang a rich girl, everyone will be too distracted by the class differences to notice that she's seventeen and you're in your mid-thirties.

Most porn movies

Pizza delivery guys get a lot of tail.

Kiss my ass, Project Brightside

On the way to work, as I turn onto Hurstbourne Lane, the traffic epicenter of Louisville, I notice that a group called Project Brightside has planted some flowers in the grassy median that separates the people sitting in northbound gridlock from the people sitting in southbound gridlock.

As I'm surrounded by soulless suburban sprawl, my lungs filling with poisonous carbon emissions as I slowly trudge toward a job that saps my will to live on a daily basis, thank God for Project Brightside and their precious fucking flowers.

Aneurysm Fuel

Comedian Lewis Black has a theory as to why people have aneurysms. According to him, a person will hear something so stupid and confusing it will just sit in the brain until it explodes.

Years ago, he was at an International House of Pancakes when he overheard the sentence, "If it wasn't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college."

That still remains the sentence to beat, despite a few contenders to which I've been exposed.

Years ago when I worked at Organized Living, a man who looked and talked like Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons asked me "Do you have a container to house my rather large collection of sombreros?"

If you have more than one sombrero and aren't in a mariachi band, your head needs to be on a spike, on display in a public square so it can be mocked and desecrated by drunken town folk.

More recently, I was at a local record store when I overheard a man ask an employee, "Do you have any circus music?"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY CIRCUS MUSIC?" It bounced around my skull like a pinball (Kids, pinballs used to be in things called pinball machines, which used to be in places called arcades. Look it up).

Why oh why did this grown man need circus music? Does he plan on raping a clown? Who knows what perversions brought him to such a lowly state.

Still, neither of those inquiries can hold a candle to Lewis Black's "If it wasn't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college." The randomness of it is just priceless. It's dumb to ask for a sombrero container, but at least Organized Living was a store that sold containers. And at least that guy didn't ask for circus music at a taxidermy.

P.S. - I just remembered another one. I was at a mall one holiday season and a woman walked by practically screaming into her cell phone, as people are wont to do, and I overheard "So I told Reverend Johnson to quit running his cock-biters."

She told her minister to stop "running his cock-biters." In all fairness to her, maybe his cock-biters were running amok.