Which Humor
Troubles the Disposition of YOUR Body?
I am so full of semen I slosh when play with myself. Thanks to Andrea and Solonor for the link.
More stuff later today. Been busy, and didn't get the chance to watch Survivor until last night.
Michele had a really innovative way of interviewing me, and has posted the results here. I offer no excuses for my behavior during the interview, both real or imagined; suffice it to say that I will reconsider any further experimentation with Diesel fuel and oxygen masks.
The Blog Walk and the Survivor Recap have been bumped to tomorrow, due to a very long workday - and that whole 'Maybe we might possibly at some point go to war with Iraq one of these days, or not' deal. I taped Survivor but haven't had the chance to watch it yet; so don't spoil it for me, okay? I was so hungry when I left work this evening, I actually purchased and consumed one of those pre-made catmeat sandwiches from the gas station. The whole time I was choking it down I thought about that episode of Newsradio, the one where Phil Hartman related to Dave Foley how his mother used to leave him a box filled with those. I miss Phil Hartman.
And that's Things You Probably Don't Need To Know About Me Part 287, in an ongoing series! Collect 'em all! Awe your friends, mystify your enemies, ruin your sex life!
So, for the last two weeks now I've been having chest spasms. Not the pleasant, 'feels like a massage' kind, either. More along the lines of the 'just about to drift off to sleep and HOLY SHIT WAS THAT MY HEART EXPLODING?' kind.
At first I ignored it - as an adult male, it is my sacred duty to ignore pain along with any other unsettling body sensations until such time as I am carried forcibly into an emergency room. But, after two weeks, it became less a disconcerting twinge in my chest, turning instead into this really annoying pulse which happens randomly five or more times a day. It's hard to describe what was going on, but I'll give it a shot: Someone was making a fist inside the middle of my chest and twisting it. It would last a second or so, then go away.
I have a 50/50 shot healthwise, if you go by my family tree. On my Father's side, everyone lives to be at least 80, if they have any health problems they are few and far between, and none more serious than what my Dad went through recently. No cancer, no heart attacks, no strokes. My Grandfather on his side lived to be 94, and only started to fail a little the last year he was alive. I honestly believe he died of boredom - he moved in with my uncle Alvin and his family, and was sort of ignored after he got settled in.
On my Mother's side it's a bit different. Most of them live long lives, but they accumulate just about every disease you can think of along the way. I think some of them have even had scurvy. The two exceptions are: my uncle Milton, who died before I was born; and my Aunt Dorothy, who died when I was six. Milton died of a second heart attack - he had one when he was in his late 30s, and the doc told him to take it easy - a few years later he was driving home and saw someone pushing their broken-down vehicle off the side of the road. He got out to help them, and had another heart attack doing it. Died on the side of the road at age 43. My Aunt Dorothy died suddenly one day of a brain embolism, while she was changing clothes. I sure did love my Aunt Dot, who used to come down and take us all to the beach, and always wore those cool Cat's Eye glasses. My Mom says that at her funeral (open casket) I kept asking why she wouldn't wake up and come sit with us - I was worried she was going to miss everything that was going on. She was in her forties.
So, I took it a little more seriously after two straight weeks. Monday I went to the Medac to get it checked out.
I filled out the little clipboard chart, answering No to all the 'drug' questions, and Yes to all the 'sex and rock 'n' roll' questions. My favorite part on the questionnaire - "Describe the symptoms you are having (be specific)_____" - that blank space is ACTUAL SIZE.
Then I sat there for 2 1/2 hours, drifting into an amorphous Waiting Room Delirium, all the snuffling and moaning and shifting around in squeaky plastic seating, all the coughing and Waiting Room Carrot Tops, all the work-related free-flowing gashes and icepacks and stains on the carpet and scattered piles of nostalgic magazines from yesteryear (those New Kids On The Block are really making an impact on the music scene according to People Weekly), all the tantrum babies and their hollow-eyed mothers who have mastered Zen tricks to tune them out but no, no, the rest of you go ahead and enjoy how healthy and elastic my child's respiratory system is, I won't stop it, please delight in the thick runners of snot dribbling from her nose to her chin if you need visual stimulation, all of it swirling and blending like the worst snack-sized yogurt cup you've ever had, all of it burrowing and melting into a skull-crackling headache and the immediate thought racing through this signalized piercing pain is If I'm not sick already, I'll bet ten dollars I will be by the time I leave, two hours of this, I wish I had a Gameboy, my Kingdom, all my worldly possessions for a Gameboy, because if I have to keep talking to this Redneck squirting tobacco juice from his scary cakehole into the Styrofoam spittoon he is clutching about 'Those Goddamn Ragheads' we are watching on CNN, and making eye contact with that kid who wears the snot on her hands like nature's own gloves and is just waiting for the right moment to pounce and leave a slimy booger-encrusted handprint on the front of my shirt, if I have to keep flipping through another issue of Motor Trend's 1983 Car Of The Year Issue, if I have to watch as someone else wipes their festering nostrils across their stiffening shirtsleeve, and then I know, I know what this is really the waiting room for, I know it as surely as I know the Ghost Of Bruce Lee just winked and hammered another perfect One-Inch Punch into my chest wall, I know that at any moment Belial or Azrael will hook an icicle-clear clawed hand around the corner of the pastel green wall, drag itself into the light, checking and clucking over the chart in their other hand, smiling all the while and mispronouncing my name as they cheerfully call out "Mr. Pair-ote? He'll see you now" because this isn't the waiting room for Medac, no, no, this isn't even a waiting room at all, it's -
The door swish-pumped open,and I looked up because I couldn't help myself. No one can. The door opens in a waiting room, everyone looks. Try and stop yourself - you can't, because there might be an interesting wound to see, which will break the monotony for a few treasured seconds.
No wound.
You can tell she's sick, the way her beautiful doe eyes and button nose are slightly red-rimmed, and who the hell would come here just to hang out anyway. Well, maybe that Redneck, but try to focus here. She's a shy one, glancing at the floor as she floats across the 'lounge' to the check-in desk, and the slight smile at the corners of her mouth tells you that she might be a bit embarrassed at having to come to the Medac, but the light way she carries herself, and the way she pauses just for a heartbeat as she passes you and makes eye contact (hey, try not to stare you asshole), and the casual way she holds her purse and the muted clothing she wears, the most normal thing you have seen in two hours, it all tells you that there's a good chance she's silently exhaling the word 'perfect' every time she draws a breath. You watch her the whole time she stands at the frosted admittance window, trying to be covert but you catch the truck driver across from you gawking and he sees you, gives a big grin, nods and winks, he's thinking about his naked swollen knotty frame on top of hers, and you get a little nauseous because you know he thinks you're fantasizing about the same thing but you're NOT, she's just delicate and measured, just radiates kindness from her shy invisi-smile, and you don't get to look at anything like that nearly enough in your life nowadays, so you just wanted to take it all in for a second and forget why you're here, but this sweaty bastard across the way had to leave a shitty smear over it all. So you look away, because you don't want anyone catching you and mistaking you for someone like him, but every now and again you peek over the edge of a Golf Digest published before Tiger Woods was born just to watch her play with that snotty kid who isn't screeching anymore, just to see something normal in this purgatorial row of fiber plastic, and this goes on for a while longer until you notice a pool of mucous running from her perfect nose to her perfect upper lip, and then she runs her tongue out and across the lip and back inside her mouth and oh, spell broken, in one fractured second she has swipe-morphed in The Incredible Snot-Eating Woman.
"Mr. Pair-ote? The doctor will see you now."
I follow this lady, this ancient lady who has Grandma Arms all the way down to a back room where I hop up - that's what they tell you, they say "Hop up on the examination table", and it's so ingrained into their subconscious they would probably say it to a legless person before they could stop themselves. I tell her what's going on and she looks at me like I am lying. Checks the pulse, normal. Checks the blood pressure, normal. Looks at me again, like I am wasting her time, and I wish I could pay based on attitude; I'd leave with them owing me money. Exits, leaving me alone to ponder a chart on the wall opposite my perch, a chart with a smiling, misshapen child's head floating as a disembodied hand prods it with an ear instrument of some type. Underneath are the various stages of Ear Infection, all gloriously detailed with cut-away drawings and photographs - the one at the end, an ear cavity completely filled with thick pus, causing the eardrum to bubble outward near the bursting point, and I can't help but wonder They made this poor bastard sit there in what must have been excruciating pain while they took that picture? Did they at least pay for it?
The doctor comes in, head down, studying the chart. Something about him vaguely familiar. He speaks, and it hits me. I don't want to laugh, I really find nothing funny about people with speech impediments, especially people who might be in the position to keep me from dying, but the way he looks, and the voice, and the recognition, it is all I can do to keep laughter from explosively echoing across the room:
He looks and speaks just like an older, white-haired Billy Bibbit. He never took his life in Cuckoo's Nest - he faked it, escaped from the morgue, and traveled all the way to our town of Wilmington, where he took charge of his life, studying medicine and floating from one Urgent Care Service to another so they could never find him, until he ended up sitting across from me today. I always liked Billy, fictional as I had assumed him to be.
I told Dr. Bibbit what was going on, and he listened to the heartbeat, took the pulse, checked the BP, and assured me it was running like Clockwork of the Orange variety. Deep Breath in, out - you've got some wheezing going on in there, kid. I'm an apartment painter who's allergic to cats, the single most popular apartment pet in the world - and I smoke. My lungs always sound like that. Use an Inhaler? Yeah, couple of times a day, just to clear the crud out. Hmmm. Am I using it too much? No, but the more you use it the less effective it is. You should look into something which lasts longer and you use less. Also, looking into another line of work is advisable. And give up all this?
He then asked if I had stomach problems, and I told him I had a Hiatal Hernia, discovered when I was younger, and that I sometimes had acid reflux because of it. Ah. Lights went on. Spasm. Chest. Slight Pain. Heart Fine. All signs point to - Esophageal Spasm.
So, now I am all loaded up on Steroids for a week, along with some anti-spasmodic medication. If that doesn't work, regular doctor. $110 altogether, worth it for the peace of mind. Unless it doesn't work, and turns out to be something he missed.
Anyway, tomorrow for the new polls. Didn't realize what time it was.
For the grillionth time, my comments are in italics.
The results for the first poll, The Internet: Similes and Smilies (Total Votes: 52):
The Internet is like:
A Mexican Soap Opera (3) 6% - Have you ever seen one of these? They're incredible. There's an authentic Mexican Restaurant down the road from where I live/work, and every couple of weeks we'll all go down for lunch. They have a TV over the bar (which of course has a sequined Sombrero tastefully centered above the Bud Lite taps), and there's a Mexican Soap playing every time we go. The women stand around looking like sullen goddesses, while the men sneer and contort their faces into expressions worthy of a Melodrama circa 1890. It's all great material for mocking (which we do, obnoxiously), and once I even caught one of the waitresses with her gaze transfixed on the screen, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
A High School Yearbook Stolen And Written In By All Your Teenage Enemies (4) 8% - All the backstabbing and rumor mongering, all the empty promises and stunning betrayals, all the HYSTERICAL DRAMA OVER NOTHING IMPORTANT...yeah, this one is my favorite.
Clans Of Inbred Hillbillies trying To Cannibalize Each other (5) 10% - Have you ever seen one of these? They're incredible. Some friends and I took a whitewater rafting trip a few years back, and somehow managed to get lost in the hills. Well, long story short, the women all stand around like sunken zombies while the men...the men...anyway, no matter what happened, no matter what people whisper behind your back - YOU ARE STILL A MAN, CHAD.
A Nest Of Starving, Enraged Vipers (1) 2% - Nothing to add here, really. When you wake up with a bunch of these wriggling in your sleeping bag and the cast of The Hills Have Eyes gibbering and slobbering over you, it's more 'uncomfortable' than 'funny'.
Three Or Four Dudes Using Millions Of Code Names (9) 17% - Think about that picture of Rusty Brown I posted a while back while you're getting all hot and heavy on the date chat or firing up the webcam.
Urine Soup (1) 2% - See, because it's SOUP it's theoretically good for you - but it's made of URINE, so it would be all nasty and...oh, just forget it.
Karaoke For The Deaf (4) 8% - Someday I will write this scene into a movie, I swear.
The Worst Marx Brothers Movie Ever Made (2) 4% - Which would also be called Urine Soup.
An AA Meeting Which Just Ran Out Of Coffee (10) 19% - And if they run out of cigarettes too - ARMAGEDDON.
Heaven, Only With Fire And Screaming (6) 12% - It's those obnoxious Cherubim again with their Kiss Tribute Band. No matter how many times you knock on the cloud they won't turn their amps down. I just don't understand this new, 'modern' Heaven at all.
Other suggestions (7) 13% - listed below:
"A cut on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tongue-ing it." - CS - Is it a 'Captain Crunch' cut, or a 'chewing barbed wire' cut?
Sock Puppet Hell - Which I like to think of as 'The Good Hell'.
Other - That's so deep, man.
real life, only sterile and removed - having seen pics of a lot of the internet's seedier inhabitants, I can only give nightly thanks for that.
Porn starring the cast from The Facts of Life - Blair was SO FINE. And there's a reason Kim Fields was called 'Tootie'.
The Special Olympics. Even if you win, you're still a retard. - I want a T-shirt.
a place where everyone is more special and important than everyone else - And no one is more special than YOU. You're my favorite. I mean that. Why would I lie?
And now, your comments:
Dude, LOL. - TYVM!
babyarm! - I agree.
a worldwide simultaneous group of circle jerks - And you didn't even leave a URL link. Shame on you.
Results for the second poll, Hollywood Wears Its Underwear On The Outside (Total Votes: 26):
The Worst Comic Book/Strip Movie Adaptation Ever Made Was:
Batman And Robin (8) 31% - Charlton Heston would have made a much better Batman, Clooney - you mean-spirited, arrogant little weaselfuck. I wish you three or four more films in a row just like it, if it'll help speed you along on your disappearance from my local cinema forever.
Superman 3 (1) 4% - From the meeting just before the script rewrites - "Richard Pryor's hilarious. How can we stop that?"
Superman 4 (3) 12% - Everyone was still doing a lot of Coke in 1987, right?
Popeye (5) 19% - I actually like this movie - saw it as a child at the theater. I just added it to the list because I realize I am in the minority regarding judgement of the film's merits. But I liked the sets, Paul Dooley made a great Wimpy, Robin Williams made a perfect live-action version of a Max Fleischer cartoon, and whoever played Bluto scared the shit out of me. The songs made my ears ooze a thick green pus, the flow of which did not subside for several hours. And Popeye's initial dislike of spinach smacked of a screenwriter smugly whispering "I can make the Popeye legend BETTER" to himself over his typewriter, hands folded under his chin. So I can see your point.
Captain America (1992 movie) (0) 0% - He had rubber ears on the sides of his mask. That's all I have to say.
The Punisher (0) 0% - "How can we strip this character of the one unique quality he has over every other murderous vigilante committed to film?"
Daredevil (1) 4% - Thank you. I disagree, but only half-heartedly.
Justice League (unaired live-action series pilot starring David Ogden Stiers as The Martian Manhunter) (3) 12% - Yeah, this is the one for me. I've only seen about 15 minutes total of this, but that was plenty. The atom shrinks down and saves a cat stuck under a porch, Green Lantern just stands there, and Ogden Stiers voluminous green belly pokes through the straps on his costume. The costumes look like they hired Ben Cooper to do them. It's wretched, even more so that The Legends Of The Superfriends live-action 'roast' from the 1970s. Worth watching if the other choice is a razor blade across your eyes. But not by much.
Fantastic Four (shelved Roger Corman production from 1992) (1) 4% - I will give the cast points for really trying to make the best of it, but the stretching effect for Mr. Fantastic was achieved by a fabric-covered stick with a glove on the end of it, and the Human Torch only flamed on at the end in a computer generated sequence lifted straight out of Poser v.1.0.
Primary Colors (2) 8% - I remember everyone on all the talk shows gushing over this flick when it came out, and you could see the lies through their strained smiles. It's truly awful, The Clinton Campaign as directed by Leni Riefenstahl. Really, it's complete propaganda - I could see it, and I was not a Clinton hater. They took every last bit of bite the book had and removed it all, leaving only the masturbatory elements. Rent a bukakke film instead; it's the same thing.
Other suggestions (2) 8% below:
L'iL Abner (1946) - A film only partially redeemed by the appearance of the great Buster Keaton, and even HE sucked in it.
The Phantom Menace - This movie has the most suspense-free race/chase sequence I have ever seen. All noise and flash, all style no story. Like a video game, but you aren't even allowed the joy of participating and playing it.
One comment:
Watching "Batman and Robin" makes me want to punch someone in the neck. - This is what they should have offered in lieu of a refund on your ticket: A free knife hand chop right at Clooney's (or the cast member of your choice) Adam's Apple.
Too tired for actual content tonight, so...Tomorrow - I'll put up new polls, change out that Photoshop gag (yeah, it was pretty mediocre, but I can only hope it killed a few erections), and tell you of my experience at the Medac today (my looooooooooooooooooong experience).
In case you haven't caught on by now, this is one of those things I do when I don't have any real material.
1. Today's Parade Magazine (you know, that really upbeat, vaguely annoying little unstapled pamphlet they insert into the Sunday paper?) has a feature article on 'What People Earn'. Here are some interesting salaries:
Elvis Presley earned $37 million this past year, which for a dead person is pretty good, and approximately $37 million dollars more than I will ever earn while alive.
Cameron Diaz earned $40 million, only $3 million more than the deceased King Of Rock And Roll. Perhaps she should consider a deal with the Franklin Mint to up her dollar value in 2003.
Rosemary Short, Child Psychologist, earned just $10,000 last year, and I think I know why. I am far too lazy to scan the picture in, but in it she is wearing clown makeup and a bright green curly wig. As a child psychologist, you'd think it might cross her mind at some point that CLOWNS SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF LITTLE KIDS, GIVING THEM RECURRING NIGHTMARES AND GENERALLY SCARRING THEM FOR LIFE. You know, I was thinking of becoming a child psychologist myself. I have the perfect costume in mind, one which will surely get the children to place their complete trust in me, and really get them to open up their feelings - Jason Voorhees.
Sandra Bullock made $30 million last year. Huh? Did she make a movie last year? What was it called?
George Lucas made $200 million last year. Look, Hollywood, if you're reading this - I can come up with something which bleeds off the success of the past for WAY less than that. Don't believe me? Well, just feast your eyes on this pitch: Pippi Longstocking 2003. Yeah, only this time she'll have jetpacks and rocket launchers (the cool Anime kind which launch a dozen at the time with all the swirling vapor trails), and she'll be a twentysomething stripper. Picture lots of explosions which frequently blow off her bra throughout the film. And her monkey? A Cybernetic Killbot. This idea is yours for only $1 million. Think about it.
2. I watched some of the Boomtown marathon on Bravo today. I was prepared to hate the show, but I sat through an episode while I was eating lunch and it reeled me right in. That Donnie Wahlberg? Ten times the actor his brother is. I thought that while watching Band Of Brothers, and this just reinforced my opinion. Tonight's new episode was like a Band Of Brothers cast reunion, with three of the actors having been on that HBO miniseries. What a terrific show - I don't watch a lot of Cop Dramas, but I'll be watching this one from now on. Well, as long as it lasts, anyhow - I read a little about it online and it's not doing very well in the ratings. Figures. I enjoy it = cancelled.
3. Road To Perdition was pretty good, but it's hard to swallow Tom Hanks in a role like that. He looked like The World's Deadliest Accountant.
4. Saw American Beauty as well, and I have to ask - what's the big deal there? Sure, it was a good film - but it was a Hollywood version of reality, the type critics and awards people love, but is in actuality as far removed from real life as you can get. This is what isolated and sheltered celebrities think real life is like for 'the average family'. I mean, I don't know anyone even remotely like these people. Do you? If I did, I would consider relocation. Plus, that ending was like something out of a really bad Soap Opera, As American Beauty Turns. Talk about some left-field unbelievable bullshit. Anyone who thinks that accurately reflects real life ought to attempt living in it once in a while instead of relying on movies as a reference point.
5. Listen to this idiot:
"He is the symbol of a healthy nation," said Alexei Fedyakin, 27, a political science graduate student who came to see the "Stalin: Man and Symbol" exhibit and wrote a diatribe in the visitors' book complaining about material showing Stalin in a bad light.
See, this is the kind of thing that will make the world continue along the circular path of historical reenactment it always has. Things will revolve around and around, and sooner or later someone who thinks along the same lines as this waste will eventually come to power there, and you have Stalin Deja Vu. 20 million, that's how many estimated murders over the course of his reign, and you still have apologists like this. We have these types of apologists over here, too - some of them sponsored a lot of the demonstrations you've watched on TV the past couple of months. That's why things are never going to change; not really. There'll be the illusion of more change, of progression towards a shining, better future for all...but someone like this is always waiting in the wings, skulking in the shadows to remind us of the second half of that old cliche: the more they stay the same.
6. Oh, yeah, he's really going to agree to this. This whole thing just gets stupider by the minute. How much can you roll your eyes before permanent damage occurs, do you think? See, I've got this twitch...
Tomorrow - Poll results, and some actual content ("As opposed to every other post you make?" Yeahyeahyeah, I'm way ahead of your insults, pal).
I never watched a lot of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood when I was young; I was more of an Electric Company kid, myself. But I was over at Snarkalicious earlier and read where Trace is quite upset at Fred Rogers' passing, so I thought I would pass this along for her.
I'm a BIG fan of The Little Rascals* (the Pre-Froggy years), and a few years ago I bought the book Little Rascals: The Life and Times of Our Gang by Leonard Maltin (which I highly recommend if you are a fan). I remembered seeing the following picture, which I scanned in to share with Trace and all of you in case you haven't ever seen it:
Evidently there were a LOT of Petey Dogs over the years. This is from the book, explaining the pic:
...Pete could make personal appearances around the country when he had to fulfill a yearly schedule of movie production in Hollywood. One of the youngsters who eagerly posed for a picture with Pete during a 1934 appearance in Atlantic City was Fred Rogers, who grew up to become a later generation's pied piper on Television's Mister Rogers' neighborhood...and who remembers how happy he was to meet the Our Gang dog so many years ago. Says he, "I certainly liked sitting with Pete."
I wrote this in the comments section of Dawn Olsen's post about Rogers' death, but I'll also post it here because I can't think of anything else to add to it: I think the fact that he was really cool about Eddie Murphy's 'Mr. Robinson' parody on SNL, and even complimented it, says a lot about his character in real life. It's not often a truly pleasant human being passes our way, leaving behind nothing but positive feelings and warm memories as they go.
*Oh, my favorite Little Rascal of them all was Stymie. Know who gave him the derby? Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame. Laurel and Hardy films were made on the same lot (Hal Roach Studios); Stan and Ollie would frequently visit the set and crack up watching the kids. Stymie took to following Stan around all the time, and one day Laurel asked that he be given a derby of his own. The crew on the Little Rascals films nicknamed him Stymie because he was always curious and underfoot of the cameramen.
So, who's gonna try this new Audioblogger deal right here? I am torn between thinking it will provide much hilarity, and thinking it will provide much yammering noise.
SPOILER WARNING FOR THE WEST COAST
Did I say Dumbass? I meant Amazon. 'Dumbass' is just a word that kept repeating in my mind as I watched.
WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW
There are two tribes - the Jabberjaws tribe (all women), and the Tommyboy tribe (all men). Yeah, those aren't the real names of the tribes, but the tribal names on Survivor are always meaningless gibberish, and I can't remember the real ones. I'm also going to make up new names for all the contestants, ones are intended to boil their personalities down to a easily recognizable term. I will try to recap what's gone on so far in the first two episodes within these descriptions.
The Jabberjaws tribe is made up of the following members:
1. Christy - Children Adventure Guide for the Deaf; Chronic Complainer. In the second episode she broke down crying over the fact that she is deaf, and thus can't participate in any discussions with her tribemates after dark, to which the entire viewing audience uttered a collective 'Well, DUH!!' She threw a hissyfit because no one would help her build a shelter, and then refused to build the shelter after everyone rolled their eyes at this and decided that building one would shut her the hell up. Her new name is Children Of A Lesser Gripe.
2. Deena - Deputy District Attorney; Go-To Gal. EVERYTHING HAS A PROPER ORDER seems to be her motto. Her new name, even though she is married with children, is Power Dyke.
3. Heidi - P.E. Teacher; Magnificent Chest. Thumbs up for saline! From the way she talks, she seems to have no problems about using her fleshbags for their hypnotizing qualities - thus, her new name is Heidi-Ho.
4. Janet - Travel Agent/Abstinence Counselor; Whiner. Began complaining and swooning theatrically in the first episode about how physically challenging this physically challenging game was, and didn't stop until her torch was put out and she was sent packing at the end of the second episode. There was a scandal involving Janet in the second episode, where she was accused of smuggling a granola bar on the island by another tribemate. She categorically denied this, and then proceeded to prove her innocence by looking very guilty for the rest of the episode until she hit the bricks. She did have a funny line at the end (which is where the person voted out gets to give a farewell speech to the camera), though: "If there are any middle-aged ladies out there having a mid-life crisis and considering applying for this game, I'd advise you to consider a new haircut instead". Her name, although it won't ever be used again, is Granolagate.
5. Jeanne - Director of Marketing; Troublemaker. She's the one who most loudly accused Janet of sneaking the granola bar onto the island and decried all cheaters, which leads me to believe she probably did it herself. There was a ceremony after the bar was discovered - where, instead of everyone sharing the bar for it's nutritional value (they were starving) and agreeing to put the incident behind them, they burned the bar in their campfire and destroyed it. It was the single stupidest act I have ever seen on Survivor. She was the ringleader of this moronic ritual, so her new name is Executive Annoyance.
6. Jenna - Swimsuit Model; Backstabber. She talked all sorts of shit behind the back of deaf Christy, and just about everyone else for that matter. Her main concern seems to be fresh panties, so you constantly see her boiling them to get the cooties out. Her new name is Stupormodel.
7. Joanna - School Guidance Counselor; Jesus Freak. She praises Jesus for EVERYTHING - "Thank you Lord for this breath of oxygen I am about to draw into my lungs, injesusnameamen." In the second episode, it came to light that she doesn't care for the Immunity Idol (which is temporarily given to the tribe who wins each immunity challenge, and looks like a Curious George Totem) because Jesus didn't like Idols. Because people worship Idols as Gods. And apparently she thinks Jesus is too stupid to realize they're just playing a silly game, and thinks they are all really worshipping this carved hunk of wood. Immediately a question came to mind as I watched this drama unfold - She's seen this game before on TV, right? So, she KNOWS the tribe who wins immunity would have to take the idol back to their camp because they do this in every single episode, right? So - is she insane, or just stupid? She also got into an altercation with deaf Christy in the second episode, throwing her hand in Christy's face while preaching the gospel. One of those types who will preach REALLY LOUDLY to anyone who is within earshot, but will not tolerate rebuttal. Her new name is Holy Steamroller.
8. Shawna - Retail Clothing Salesperson; Background Player. Seems nice, but to tell the truth I can't really remember anything she's said. The only thing which stands out to me is her White Girl Afro, so her new name is Ms. Frizz.
The Tommyboy tribe is made up of the following members:
1. Alex - Triathlon Trainer; Swing Vote. He's the guy (there's one every season) who seems to be caught in the middle of his tribe, and will determine who stays or goes. Since he is a runner, his new name is Whizzer.
2. Butch - Middle School Principal; Everybody's Dad. Butch is the 'Father Figure' this go around, the one everyone trusts. He brought a large banner with the words 'Believe In Yourself!' written on it for his luxury item (everyone is allowed to bring one personal item from home). He gave a rousing Pep Talk to the gang on the first episode, stirring them into a Great Male Bonding Session by demonstrating a great capacity for compassion and personal attention to details. During the Luxury Challenge (the winning tribe in these challenges is rewarded with some sort of food or necessity, or a trip off the island, or a vehicle provided by the show's sponsor) in the second episode, Butch demonstrated some of the compassion and personal attention to details he must show his students by forgetting the names of every single member of his tribe. This was a challenge where they were all blindfolded and he had to lead them on a hunt for puzzle pieces by shouting their names for directions, mind you. His new name is Mr. Weatherbee.
3. Daniel - Tax Accountant; Loafer. Again, following the generic patterns of previous seasons, Daniel is the guy who exerts little physical effort and coasts along on the backs of others. He has an ongoing feud with fellow tribemate Roger. Daniel lost the first Immunity Challenge for the Tommyboy Tribe, by not having enough balance to walk across a beam without laying down and sliding like a worm. And he STILL fell off about twenty times. He likes to blame others for his screw-ups, too. His new name is Chow Yun Fathead.
4. Dave - Rocket Scientist; Moral Authority. During the first episode some of the guys lied to the girls tribe by boastfully stating they had caught a lot of fish (they had caught none). Dave had a problem with this, and dressed-down the entire tribe later for several minutes, giving everyone a lesson in ethics as well as clueing them all in to the fact that he is a condescending asshole. His favorite thing to do is SPEECHIFY, and he always starts his endless number of 'lessons' with the words "I'd just like to say one thing right here and now..." His new name is Gung Whoa.
5. Matthew - Restaurant Designer; Question Mark. Because I really can't put a finger on anything he's ever done or said until this third episode. He's pretty cut-up in the muscle department, though. His new name is Skeletor (if you see him in action you'll know why).
6. Rob - Computer Projects Coordinator; Evil Mastermind. Oh, he thinks he has everyone fooled. He projects himself as a Horny Comedian (makes lame jokes all the time, and won't stop talking about tagging Heidi). Innocently listens in on the arguments amongst the others while offering up no opinion of his own, but storing it all for future use. Brought a Magic Eight Ball as is Luxury Item, and everyone consults it all the time. This was cute for about ten seconds. Rob plays everyone against each other while proclaiming allegiance to EVERYONE, so his new name is Magic Goof Ball.
7. Roger - Vice President of Estimating; Overestimater Of His Own Worth. Roger immediately took charge of the tribe, and rides everyone like it's a job. Calls everyone slackasses while claiming to do all the work. Got into a heated debate with Alex about homosexuality and proudly displayed his homophobia. Everyone seems to hate him, yet he has miraculously survived. My guess is they're using him long enough to get all the work done, then he's one more for the pile. His new name is Massah Massengill (this will become clear later).
8. Ryan - Model & Actor; Sulky Would-Be Revolutionary. Ryan helped Daniel lose the first Immunity Challenge for the Tommyboy Tribe. He sulked and tried to stage an uprising in an attempt to get Roger kicked out of the tribe, but was too stupid to pull it off. His one-time only new name is Generic Bohunk.
Now that everyone is all caught up to speed, I'll recap the latest episode:
I'd first planned to do an extremely lengthy post on drug legalization, but then I realized two things: 1) Everyone already has their mind made up on the issue, so it would just be wasted space; and 2) I don't really care either way. Nevertheless, there are a few points I'd like to bring to light, since it seems to be a hot topic in the news lately. Full disclosure here, before I get into it - I've smoked pot before, maybe seven or eight times my whole life. I enjoyed it twice, but I was already drunk both times. The other experiences are divided equally between sleepiness and raging paranoia. I have no personal stake in the issue, as I haven't smoked it since my early 20s. With that said, here are just a few thoughts I have on the issue:
1. THE MEDICAL MARY JANE ARGUMENT - "It's for Glaucoma!" "It eases the pain!" "It has a calming effect!" "It's like smoking holy water!" "Health benefits blahblahbalbbitywhatever!" Whenever someone brings up the 'medicine' argument it causes an involuntary muscle spasm in my eyelids, making the eyeballs underneath roll around uncontrollably. For one, several studies have shown that smoking a joint is like smoking a half pack of cigarettes. There's this little carcinogen present in marijuana called benzopyrene, which is the same carcinogen in tobacco that they're pretty sure causes lung cancer. Only in MJ, it's about ten times more prevalent. Even without that factor, common sense should tell you one thing: No matter how you burn it, you're still breathing fucking SMOKE. People aren't supposed to breath smoke. Hence all the coughing. Firefighters wear those masks for a reason.
'Health benefits' aren't why most of the 'Pro' folks want it legalized, though. Try a counter argument sometime, along the lines of "Once they distill the medicinal properties from it and distribute them in pill form instead of smoking it, it could provide a lot of medicinal benefits." You'll see most folks stammer and stutter and say stuff like "No, man, that would break down the purity of the blahblahblahblah." BULL. SHIT.
You just want to get fucked up and not go to jail. Which is fine. Fair enough. But at least be honest about it; I'd have a lot more respect for you. When you give me the 'medicine man' or 'many household uses for hemp' argument, it's insulting - it makes me think you're trying to put one over on me. If it were all about the Hemp Rope or the Glaucoma, then you shouldn't have a problem with it legalized for those purposes only, while keeping recreational smoking illegal. Health Benefits my ass. Do you feel healthier when you're coughing up that solid wad of brownish phlegm in the mornings? You just want to get fucked up and not go to jail. THERE IS NO MIRACLE DRUG.
2. GOING TO JAIL - The bottom line is this: it's illegal. If you smoke it, sell it, or just buy it to braid into your hair, you do it with the full knowledge that it's illegal. If you get busted, don't whine. You knew it was illegal when you happily drove down to the trailer park to buy it, and you didn't have a problem with illegality when you were smoking it, so shut the fuck up and stop crying about how unfair it is when they shove your head down to keep from bumping it as they're pushing you into the cop car. You have no right to complain, since you knew exactly what you were getting into from the start. Doesn't matter if the laws are stupid or not - they exist, and they're enforced, so there you have it.
Are the laws fair? Not really. But until you get off your ass to change them to your liking, don't bitch about it when you're standing in front of the judge not looking Your Honor in the eye because you're too embarrassed.
3. THE PIPELINE - As for drug dealers? Fuck 'em. Drug dealers aren't in it for 'the cause'; they're in it for the quick, easy money. If pot is legalized, the low-level ones will move onto the next substance which will bring in the piles of quick, easy cash. Once it's legal, the free Pot money Joe Dealer was making is gone. Phillip Morris will make it cheaper, better, in more varieties, and sell it all as easily-handled pre-rolled cigarettes in attractive packaging. Joe Dealer working out of his greenhouse down the street can't do that. So he'll move on, because he can make Ecstasy right in his bathroom and get forty bucks or more per pill for it. I've met a few drug dealers over the years, and some of them seemed pretty normal in other respects, but while I was talking with them this thought never left my head: Once the package is out of their hands, they don't give a fuck where it all ends up. Like, say, in the hands of your 12 year old sister. They can paint themselves out to be as radical, 'fight the power', heroic, innocent, just trying to pay their way through college, etc. as they want, but what I just wrote doesn't change. They don't give a fuck where it all ends up. It's all about the dollars for them. Legalizing Pot isn't going to solve the drug traffic problem - it's not even going to slow it down. Like I said, there's always going to be a 'next big thing'. These people aren't going to care where it goes, aren't going to care how dangerous the product they're distributing is, aren't going to pay a dime in taxes, yet somehow certain elements of our society will always seem to find a way to present these worthless pieces of shit as hapless victims of the machine. Fuck em.
4. THE TAX ISSUE - You are extremely naive if you think making pot legal and taxing the hell out of it is going to make your own personal taxes go down by even one cent. Did you know that income tax as we know it was started during WWI? And, at the time, it was instated with the promise that it was only a 'temporary' tax to fund the war effort? TAXES NEVER REALLY GO DOWN, AND ARE NEVER TEMPORARY. Your taxes will stay exactly the same, and the gubbermint will just make extra Pot dollars on top of it.
5. POT VERSUS BEER VERSUS TOBACCO - A standard rebuttal in the bag of tricks, but it's always seemed like a phantom argument to me. I can have a single mixed drink or a single beer, enjoy either one for the taste, and not get drunk. Can you smoke a joint or hit the bong without getting stoned? If yes, then you've either gotten hold of some really shitty weed or you're smoking way too much pot. As for the tobacco, well, you got me there. But, since there is increasing evidence that Pot is just as bad for you in the long term, the two cancel each other out. Yes, at least you get high, but the racking cough you get from tobacco which causes you to see spots is the same racking cough you'll be getting from Pot.
I've seen the 'pot makes you less aggressive than alcohol' theory proven wrong countless times. If you're an angry redneck prone to throwing fists at the slightest provocation, you're still going to be one, regardless of whether you've just hit the bong all night or knocked back a few shots. You'll just be stoned or drunk, and easier to beat in a fight because your reaction time is off either way.
And, having observed former roommates staring at the Preview Channel for hours at a time, I can vouch for the 'pot makes you less motivated' theory. That theory was also in effect when I asked for the rent money and was informed they were broke until payday, yet there was always a freshly filled bag on the coffee table.
I can also attest to the 'short term memory loss' theory, having seen the lifelong pot enthusiast father of a friend lack the concentration to make it through the morning newspaper without having to read articles several times over.
Well, that's enough, I think. People on the Pro side are going to disregard everything I wrote, simply because pot gets you high, therefore everything about it must be good. I'll let you in on a little secret, though:
Even with everything I've just written taken into account - I think it ought to be legalized. It's hypocritical of me to smoke and drink and say you can't enjoy something like pot even though you should still be aware that it's just as bad for you and you should quit lying like a weasel about it. Compared to every other illegal drug, it's still pretty benign. I don't smoke it, so I really don't care either way, but if pressed that's my opinion.
Last Thursday my Father had a stent inserted into his body in a permanent manner. I had no idea what a stent even was until a couple of weeks ago, so for those of you who are as clueless as me, I will now clumsily attempt an explanation of the procedure:
They put a metal spring in your chest.
Okay, I suppose I can do a little better than that. What they actually use is a wire mesh tube, collapsed to its smallest point. The tube, called a stent, is miniscule, and looks like this:
It's slipped over the balloon catheter used for angioplasty, and the whole thing is inserted into your body via a hole cut into a blood vessel in your groin. Yes, they have to use razor sharp instruments within the vicinity of your treasured Jubblies, or your Fee-Fee if you are a woman. From what I gather, most doctors are not drunks like on ER, so you should have nothing to worry about. You'll most likely return home with all your genitals in their proper place, as opposed to floating in a souvenir jar.
When the catheter reaches the point of obstruction, the stent-sheathed balloon on the end is inflated gradually, smashing the sludgy sausage plaque you've been collecting there flat against the walls of the affected artery. The stent then locks into place (sort of like a Chinese Finger Trap), and provides support for the now-weakened walls of the artery, as well as holding the flattened plaque in place. The catheter is withdrawn, a bandage and weight (usually a sandbag) is placed over the incision, and you are then returned to your hospital room where you will enjoy diced pears, unseasoned baked chicken, paying twenty times the price per pill for special 'hospital' versions of medication you already own, and urinating into an empty two-liter Pepsi bottle in front of all your loved ones. Just kidding. I think it's a milk jug.
When my Dad went in, he was out in less than one hour. He was home by 10:30 am the next day. That's just amazing to me, as one who studiously avoids anything having to do with medicine (I only go to the doctor when blood is spraying out of me in jets like a garden sprinkler). Fifty years ago, if your heart crapped the bed on you, you were just out of luck - Shouldn't have dumped all that grease gravy on everything you ate, Podner. They gave you some Nitro pills and told you to lie down when you felt dizzy, or if you were dying. That was their answer for everything: Lie Down And Rest. Nowadays, they have your ass out of the bed before the dope wears off. When my mom had a triple bypass two years ago, they had her up and running within days, with me standing there shaking my head because she just had her breastbone sawed in half.
The guy behind the draw curtain opposite my Dad was a nervous wreck, asking the nurse for some pills to help him sleep. He'd never been in the hospital for anything before. I hope everything went well for him (he was having the same procedure the next morning), as he was a very nice fellow. My Dad recommended the pills they had given him that morning to relax him, since they'd relaxed him to the point of snoring.
Considering all the heaping abuse Pops has blanketed his body with over the years, I think he got off pretty light. He only had the one artery to deal with, and a pacemaker installed before that. This was a guy who used to smoke almost three packs of Pall Mall unfiltered cigarettes a day, drank like he had to before the alcohol dried up in the bottle, and ate like a stray dog scavenging neighborhood garbage cans. When he quit smoking and drinking in the mid-70's, he switched over to a sausage gravy addiction which has monkeyed his back to this day. Like I said, pretty light.
I understand scientists and doctors are also working on a future operation, in which a type of bacteria will be injected into your veins and will then eat away any plaque formed on your artery walls. If that means I will never have to give up my own shameful addiction to Monte Cristo Sandwichs, I fully support further testing and investigation into this procedure.
I just noticed that the number of visits to this site passed 10,000 sometime during the night. Now, I'm sure at least 3,000 of them were ME, cursing because blogger was showing broken links instead of images again, or swallowing my archives like a Circus Geek swallows crushed light bulbs, but still...
I never thought I'd get 10,000 hits period, ever. I don't know how many people are actually sticking around to read anything, or just clicking through on their way to some other site, but I'm shocked nonetheless. 10k in less than six months.
Hey, thanks to everyone who's visited - whether you stayed and enjoyed what you read, or whether you woke up with keyboard imprints on the side of your face from the narcolepsy I induced. I appreciate the visits, every single one.
Instead of posting three hundred times, I'll be adding to this with my invaluable numbered commentary as it goes along (that's a joke, I say, that's a joke, son):
1. I have many fantasies which involve saving the Dixie Chicks from a cult of obsessed stalkers Indiana Jones Style, and being repaid with a Dixie Chick Sandwich. I have a mile-wide crush on the lead singer, whatshername, you know, the one who looks kind of like an Elf. The country music women all look great, and make me wish I could stomach country music long enough to sit through one of the videos. One of my old roommates used to watch TNN with the sound turned off, and play his own music while watching Faith Hill or whoever dance around. He also left week-old balled-up socks around his easy chair, but there's no award for that I am aware of.
2. Peter Gabriel, please shave that goatee off. You look like a villain in a Burt Reynolds direct-to-video thriller from the late 1980s, McCallister, or some shit like that.
3. Aretha Franklin has REAAAAALLLLYYY let herself go right into the shitter. U-P-S-I-Z-E, that is what Burger King means to me... With that dress she looks like one of those coconut covered marshmallow cookies.
4. Eminem looked genuinely touched upon receiving his award. Maybe he's growing up, in which case he has about two more albums left in him - the first to stumble on (Record Companies will forgive a misfire), and the second to fall the rest of the way.
5. Robin Williams gave a speech so painfully unfunny that the sheer awfulness of it propelled it twenty years backwards through time and struck Richard Pryor, who immediately burst into flames. Not wanting to cause Robin future embarrassment by repeating what he'd heard, he made up some story about freebasing. How many times is Williams gonna use the "White Courtesy Phone" joke? I thought he was supposed to be some kind of Improv God - oh yeah, that was before there was a videotaped record of everything.
6. If they ever make a Divine Biopic, Harvey Fierstein has the lead role in the bag, by artfully tucking his own bags tonight.
7. How much do they pay that crowd of dorks to stand in front of the stage and pump their arms in the air, like for Avril Lavigne?
8. Coldplay reinforces this old theory: No matter how many orchestral arrangements, horn sections, or spotlights on the piano...a shitty band is still a shitty band.
9. I wish to Christ people would stop telling me I 'look a little like' Fred Durst. I think he only owns the one T-shirt and baseball hat. His appearance was as if someone from the Special Class Fantasy Grammy Tour accidentally wandered onto the stage and started mumbling into the microphone.
10. I really like Dave Grohl, and even though this will surely draw vehement rebuttal - I think the Foo Fighters are a better band than Nirvana ever was.
11. Hey, there's Robin WIlliams being five minutes' worth of unfunny introducing Bruce Springsteen.
12. Bruce Springsteen now looks like Ultimate Wolverine as drawn by Frank Quitely.
13. What's the big deal with Norah Jones that everyone's creaming all over themselves about? She's all right, and is truly talented, but she ain't ever gonna be no Ella. Jazz singers nowadays are pleasant, but all they really do is pull out a bag of vocal tricks used by older vocalists and hammer them repeatedly throughout their albums. She's sure winning a helluva lot of Grammies, though. Maybe I'm just out of the loop.
14. Note to celebrities: Berets were never cool.
15. How many Brittneys/Brittanys/Brittenies/Brit-Nees/Bryt 'N' Es are in the world now, do you think? I'd say approximately 150 million.
16. Okay, place your bets. How long before My Big Fat Greek Life ends up on USA at 10 a.m. weekday mornings?
17. Target Commercials = Over it.
18. The Eminem performance was well done. I'm not much of a fan, but I have to admit the guy has a few catchy tunes. Does using the phrase 'Catchy Tunes' make me irredeemably rhythm-challenged?
19. Did Sheryl Crow make that guitar strap herself? I would've liked to have been in the Benjamin Franklin when she walked in. "I'll take this EZ squeeze tube of Elmer's, these magic markers, a few of those sequins, some of this Testor's model paint, and this sack of glitter, please. Oh, and besides doing my own makeup I'm also going to be making a special guitar strap; what would you recommend I use for that?"
20. I like Cyndi Lauper. She's so self-deprecating.
21. I think Bloomberg just gave a super-secret eye signal to have the guy smoking a butt in the audience taken out and executed by his hired Tobacco Ninjas.
22. In a shocking reversal of the way these All-Star Tribute Jams usually turn out, the All-Star Tribute Jam of 'London Calling' sucked Aretha Franklin-sized balls.
23. Elvis Costello, Peter Gabriel, and some hot chick pass the Alb
