Wednesday, August 20, 2008

And Now, A Word From Our...

So, who's got Olympic Fever? If you do, keep it to yourself. I couldn't give a shit less. As I've said many times, I'm just not that stereotypically "manly". The only thing worse than watching sports, in my opinion, is listening to some asshole talk about sports (speaking of which, what the hell do sports commentators major in, anyway - Pointing Out The Painfully Obvious? Finding 100 Different Ways To Say The Same Damn Thing Without Stuttering Like A Fu-Schnickens Song?). I'm similarly bored to puking by all things automobile-related, nor am I the least bit handy with tools. Also, I have a vagina.

But my point is, the Olympics suck. I ask you, what rational being cares which freakishly-built little puppet-woman wins a gold in gymnastics? I mean, sure, I stayed up until midnight watching the shit, but so what? It's like pork rinds - I know it's awful for me, but I can't stop myself. Who says Freud was wrong about that Thanatos stuff?

But my real point is: you know what sucks even more than the Olympics? The commercials they show during the Olympics. If Dante was alive today, surely there would be a whole extra circle of Hell where souls were tormented by being forced to watch this crap for all eternity. The most annoying so far is the one (I don't remember if it's for Nike or not - once again, good job at getting people to remember the product, geniuses) with the song that just repeats the line "I got soul but I'm not a soldier" (which is apparently by The Killers - I had to look it up, preferring not to listen to shitty poseur bands myself). How the hell you can get four (or whatever) members of a group to agree this constitutes a decent lyric is beyond my powers of comprehension. It's like saying "I got arms but I'm not an arms dealer" - not only is it not clever, it's a fucking non sequitur, ya moe-rons! Which brings me to my real real point:

Advertising is made by and for stupid asshole dickhead poop-butt scumbags, with absolutely no exceptions. As I've also said many times, whenever I hear somebody utter the words "I love that commercial!", I automatically check them off the list of people I want to know. And it's only gotten worse in the last 10 years or so. Back when I was a kid, commercials were obviously crap, most of them still using antiquated 1950s advertising methods. There were no popular songs used, with the exception of dumb studio hacks singing "Talkin' 'bout my Ken-L-Ration" or whatever. But nowadays you've got people who own the entire Criterion Collection on DVD and who grew up listening to "alternative" music working in advertising, and they either want to convince themselves they're still cool or they think they're helping the cause by using Feelies and Pogues songs in car ads. Well, you're not helping - you're making things worse. I have no doubt that these songs actually affected you, but now you're forcing them to affect me in ways completely antithetical to the ways they affected me originally, and for that I invite you to suckle Le Pepe. Try to understand: you may have been hip in high school or college, but you've long since stopped being hip by virtue of the fact that you work in advertising. You're now part of the problem, and no matter how "artistic" or "ironic" you make your ads, you're still promoting utter and profound evil every day you walk into the office. I know a few people who work or have worked in advertising, and I'm not saying you're all definitively soulless asses. But you sure as hell hang out in the same circles as those who are. But hey, I still bite my nails down to nubs, so it's not like I'm without my faults.

In any event, on to the letters!

Entertainment Weekly, Aug. 15, 2008

Thanks for writing about "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" ("The Doctor is In"). But you spoiled one of the best jokes. The funny part of having Bad Horse as the Evil League of Evil leader was that you didn't know he was a horse until Act 3!
Terry Drosdak
Silver Springs, Md.

Well, way to spoil it a second time, jackass. Did you ever think maybe people didn't read the article in the first place just to avoid such revelations, only to have their dreams shattered a couple weeks later by reading it on what is supposed to be the fairly innocuous and mildly retarded letters page? Apparently you didn't. As my dad used to say to me immediately before he beat me senseless, "That's the problem - you didn't think". Which was a bit unfair, seeing as how I was only 3 months old and couldn't understand a damned word he was saying. Still, I learned a valuable life lesson from his incomprehensible gibberish - a lesson you somehow managed to avoid into adulthood. Maybe you were raised by wild boars or something - I don't want to know your whole woeful life story. I have not the time for such folderol, sirrah! The fact remains, though, that you really humped the donkey by opening your fat, gaping maw without some kind of spoiler alert warning. I only hope the billions of fans of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" are proper Christians and don't ostracize you like that one community did to that poor, misunderstood wretch who made up the fake MySpace account to taunt that depressed girl. Sadly, I have no control over such things, so you probably want to check your car for bombs or whatever every morning, lest someone pull a Michael Clayton on you. Wait, you did see Michael Clayton, right? Damn, now you've got me falling into your inconsiderate trap. Oh, you're the devil, all right. The devil of my heart.

Anyway, I've never seen the show, but I imagine the fact that the character was named "Bad Horse" might have tipped me off to its species. But then, I'm always taking things so literally.

They call me Yuck Mouth - 'cause I don't brush!,

This Pop of King was especially endearing. In no other magazine can you read about the "Bard of Horror" experiencing pure giddiness over eating Junior Mints on a toothpick.
Alexis Miller


"Don't forget to grind up my neck meat to make the gravy tastier!"

Bloat the choo-choo, gabardine fleck-screech Walla Walla jigglecakes, flur-de-hur-de-ding-dong-day? The Hobbit curses dingo flats or tuna wishlist camouflage! Hammalicious flapjacks (mit sauerkraut!) gonging on the moo-block, chicken chirping "cuckoo-lu" chomping crab-nosed paperweight bulbous indigents fo' fun and prophet, alphabet swallow the wizened honey pap. "Mordant caps lock"? Sheer buttermilk! Und zen vee graps zee manhole like so - voila! Onion giblet!

Just so you're clear, this makes about as much sense to me as your letter.

This is your correspondent, running out of tape, gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape,

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Where Did The Ordinary People Go?

All right, couple spleen-ventings before we get to the letters:

First, how many of you watch Jeopardy? If you do, riddle me this: Is it just me, or has Alex Trebek gotten increasingly more dickish over the years? He used to seem relatively polite and mild-mannered, as befits a good Canadian, or maybe I just used to be more trusting. In any case, it seems like he's always got some snide little comment to make these days, like "Oh, no, I'm sorry, your response of 'Manet' was incorrect. The real answer, of course, is Monet. Monet is what you were looking for". But he says it with such an air of smug superiority that what actually comes across is "My God, you stupid fool, what kind of dumb-fuck doesn't know that? And when will you turnip-truck pea-brains understand that I should be revered as a God for my vastly more advanced knowledge and proper pronunciation? Never mind the fact that I've got all this info in front of me on a prompter, and probably go to Pompous Gasbag class every day to get the inflection exactly right when I inevitably have to say laissez-faire". At least, that's how I hear it. I wonder how often they have to stop the tape because a contestant takes a swing at his punk ass, or edit out mumbled profane epithets hurled his way? If I ever get on the show, I'll let you know myself.

Little-known fact: Alex started his career in television playing the role of Lamont on the hit series "Sanford & Son".

Second, while I really am happy that people enjoy this blog and take the time to comment and e-mail, some of you are, to put it charitably, giant fucking assholes I wouldn't waste the energy to cross the street and spit on. I always check out the websites/blogs of those who comment/e-mail, and for some reason, I seem to attract a fairly large (as a percentage of people who actually read this) number of right-wing nutjobs. Now, I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill conservative, who, though undoubtedly misguided in his worldview, nevertheless comes by his political convictions honestly and doesn't cause too much damage to society. No, I mean douchebags with entire blogs dedicated to homophobia and anti-Muslim hate speech. As I replied to at least one of you in e-mail and even alluded to on this very blog way back yonder in the mists of time: there is no pretty much no issue on which you could label my position "conservative". Well, maybe fucking livestock or something, but even then, I'd wait to hear the pig's side of things before rushing to judgment.

Seriously, I don't get it. You militia-types-in-training get the concept of "jokes", right? Fuckin'-A, even if that's too cosmic a theme for you to grasp, I don't see how you get "right wing sympathizer" from anything here. I guess the problem with irony/sarcasm/satire/etc. is that some moron somewhere's going to take you at face value. Remember when that disgusting old insect Reagan tried to appropriate Springsteen's "Born in the U.S.A." for his own political gain? You guys should really try to learn from your idiotic predecessors' mistakes. But shit, then I suppose there wouldn't be a Republican Party anymore, would there? Probably no war or recession, either, come to think of it. And then what would any of us have to bitch about?

I know not all Republicans are fear-mongering hate puppets. As a good liberal, I try to avoid gross generalizations and blatant confirmation bias. Nevertheless, one thing I feel confident in saying about the Grand Old Party: You are some butt-ugly sumbitches. Jesus Christ, watch any political news show that has clips of any branch of government and you can pretty much play "spot-the-Republican" without glancing at the bottom right of the screen just by noting how singularly unattractive they are. The Refuglican Party, you should be called! I'd find it easier to "pop a B" (if you follow me) watching the colon surgery channel for a week than watching Fox News for five minutes, for real. Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of ugly Democrats, too - I'm not saying every ugly person is a Republican. But every Republican is an ugly person. How you even manage to perpetuate the conservative gene is beyond me - either you've managed the unenviable feat of asexual reproduction, much like our little friend the aphid (which is still far more fuckable than you and your ilk), or you're so in lockstep to the party line that you all rushed out and stocked up on Viagra when your boy Dole endorsed it back in the day. If you're a Republican woman, on the other hand, you must just be shit-faced all the time (which would explain Ann Coulter). Speaking of whom, if that's the best you can do for a sex symbol - and it is - you might as well pack up your genitalia and call it a day. Not only is her face in competition with Maria Shriver's for Skeletor-lookalike-of-the-century, but her body's (very) roughly modeled on the classic Number 2 pencil. I bet if she ever brushed you with her elbow you'd get a paper cut! I don't even know what that means, but it's wittier than anything she's ever spewed from her vile bulimic lips. You guys can't even get good-looking celebrity endorsements. What have you got? Vincent Gallo? Holy shit! His middle name should be "You ain't got no alibi"! And what's with your pundit mouthpieces? Both George Will and Tucker Carlson wear bow-ties, for God's sake. I understand their desire, as conservatives, to return to a "simpler time", but shit, even in the 1940s only laughingstocks (i.e., barbershop quartets and magicians) would be caught dead wearing those abominations. Also, Tucker Carlson looks just like Arcade from the old Marvel comics. Is a cartoonish psychopath anything to base a political party on? From the statements made by Rove and Cheney lo these many years, it appears it is.

Anyway, my point is, you are horribly unappetizing physical creatures, and should probably be rounded up and demolished, just like they do with buildings when they become eyesores.

If you in any way took umbrage to any of the preceding, this blog ain't written for you. If you're not sure how serious I was about any of that, then I'm accomplishing exactly what I intended. If you find it funny regardless, you is my people.

Note: I was entirely serious about you right-wing hate bloggers, just so you know. You can fuck off and die, as far as I'm concerned. Shit be pissing me off, for serious.

Oh, and if the following answers are again too brief, as a reader who keeps referring to me as "monkey boy" claims, blame the aforementioned bloggers. Then spam the shit out of their comments pages with Marxist ideology and hope it's enough to cause them massive strokes. If that doesn't work, remember the old saying: "Brevity is the".

Entertainment Weekly, Aug. 8, 2008

Thanks for the Comic-Con preview. It shows how much great entertainment has been viewed by passionate, faithful freaks and geeks well before anyone else had a clue. The nerds really do control the world.
Matthew Scott

New York City

We must have entirely contradictory views on what constitutes "controlling the world", then, because watching pre-release CGI dorkfests in a pathetic attempt to one-up the rest of the sucker public doesn't even qualify as controlling your own baser impulses in my book. I guarantee you I'm not lamenting the fact that some schmoe with an extensive "action figure" collection already got to see the video-game-graphics masterpiece that is Star Wars: The Clone Wars or whatever the hell it's called while surrounded by cheering (in Vulcan!) asthmatics in Hulk costumes, because even in 7th grade, the last time I gave a tinkling shit about sci-fi/fantasy, I had sense enough to wait a few weeks after the release date to see that shit at the multiplex without having to wait in line for days like a Soviet peasant trying to score some flour, and besides, if I was the type to lament such things, I'd probably have been at Comic-Con with you in the first place, so you'd look the fool either way. I considered making that run-on sentence even longer to illustrate just how boring it can be to read the opinion of someone with whom you have nothing in common beyond a chromosomal level, but I wasn't sure you'd get the point. Well, there's probably something we have in common, to wit: I'm going to head off and masturbate right now. The difference between us is that I'm going to masturbate about a human being who actually exists. 'Cause that's how I roll, Matthew. I imagine you probably roll when approaching a steep incline. Thus is the wonderful variety of life on Earth multiplied in new ways and eternally refreshed. Now shut your yap hole! I've got an imaginary date with a certain co-worker to get to. Damn cock-blocking nerd.

I am Superman and I know what's happening,

If 1978's "Superman" kicked off the comic-book movie culture (Movies), then what exactly were the Superman and Batman movie serials of the '40s?
Phil Marsh

Santa Ana, Calif.

I dunno - shitty piles of crap, maybe?

She came all the way from America,

I was pleasantly surprised to find an article about country music. After reading it, I was even more satisfied ("The Sugarland Express"). The Sugarland members have a great career ahead of them.
Betsy McWilliams

West Des Moines, Iowa

"Here's a little ditty 'bout rape and murder!"

I concur! I only pray that great career is in the real estate field.

Used to live at home, now I stay at the house,

p.s. Most country music fans are pleasantly surprised to find articles about country music.

p.p.s. This is because it's usually their first realization that they've finally attained basic literacy.

p.p.p.s. Get it?

p.p.p.p.s. Country fans are teh dum!!!1!!

p.p.p.p.p.s. Hee!

I think the backlash surrounding Katherine Heigl's withdrawal from the Emmy race had little to do with her ability to express her thoughts, but rather the fact that she gives herself far too much credit. Does she remember her prior filmography included "My Father, the Hero" and "Bride of Chucky"?
Meg Myers


Just one look into her eyes and I fell confident in answering: No. No, she doesn't remember. Hell, the woman can't even remember to keep necessary, life-affirming vowels in her name - I imagine asking for higher memory functions is right out of the question at this stage of the game. At least she's still breathing without the aid of a machine, though! It's the small victories you must learn to cherish.

I'm gonna love you too,

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Sounds Great When You're Dead

All right, let the bitching (re-)commence!

Good news: After taking a month off, I've got a huge backlog of letters, and I'm not afraid to use them.

Gooder news: despite my earlier post, my health is quite good; in fact, except for a very brief period, I've felt fine physically - it was more that I was worried about a possible problem than any actual symptoms fucking with me. But it looks like, as is the case with most things in life, all that worrying was pointless. But hey, I'm in a rush - I'm pretty much out the do' to see one of my fave-rave comedians, so here's a quick taster for the faithful:

Entertainment Weekly, June 13, 2008

I get it: "Sex and the City" changed the way we all look at women in their 30s; Sarah Jessica parker is the master when it comes to changing a mini-dress into a work of art; and cosmos are delicious. But 63 pages? Enough already!
Stephen Riordan
St. Petersburg, Fla.

As even a tree stump could probably guess, I'm in agreement with you on that last part. As to your other points:
1) I suppose it might have changed the way I looked at women in their 30s - if I believed sitcom characters resembled anything approaching reality; or if I hadn't already met plenty of women in their 30s who weren't shallow, oversexed retards; or if I had the kind of pea-brain that could reasonably extrapolate from "4 rich, white Manhattanites" to "all women in their 30s"; or if I lived on a steady diet of paint thinner and thalidomide-soaked plums; or if I'd ever been able to make it through an entire episode in the first place;
2) I must have missed Ms. Parker's exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, because the only thing I've ever noticed her doing with a mini-dress was wearing it, which, unless you're using it as a line to try to get laid, doesn't even meet the minimum requirements for transforming an object into art; and
3) Cosmos taste like possum vomit.

But thanks for writing anyway.

Heartbeat, it's a love beat,

"When you consider the epic sweep of history and
the unimaginable vastness of the universe,
perhaps this pose is fairly meaningless after all."

The photos of Carrie's tutu and seaform gown were a godsend. For years, I have been scouring the internet for a good, clear photo of that dress. Now I finally have it!
Pat Muniosguren
San Mateo, Calif.

Truly, your life is the stuff of Greek tragedy.

Romeo was restless, he was ready to kill,

Sunday, July 20, 2008

I've Been High

No, I'm not dead, and yes, I'm going to be doing regular updates again. It's been a difficult month, fraught with problems - medical problems, dental problems, problems getting off my ass and disengaging from the Playstation - you know, all that Circle of Life stuff. There are no serious health issues, but I am way too high on all these meds to be able to come up with a decent post at the moment (and believe me, I tried - it came out like some shit you'd find in the diary of a schizophrenic recluse, all written in spirals that extend outward from the center of the page - not much different from what I write when I'm sober, I guess, except moreso). So thanks for being patient (those who didn't e-mail demanding I return to posting, anyway), and the doctor will see you shortly. Moo!

Thursday, July 3, 2008

Awright, I finally got the bitch-ass new issues of Entertainment Weekly and People today, so I'll update within the next 2 days. What I really wanted to mention, however, was that in the new EW, the writers/editors have started responding to the readers' letters themselves. Somebody tip 'em off to this blog? Just couldn't deal with the public perception that some nobody cared more about your readers than you, could you, EW? So now you're horning in on my market. Well, guess what? You can fuck off back to writing puff pieces on Katherine Heigl, because I'm not letting some giant corporation dictate what I'm going to write about. It's called freedom of speech, motherfuckers - look into it! I shall not be silenced!

Now, if you'll pardon me, I must stop typing non-work-related shit before I get fired.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Once again, I'll be waiting until tomorrow to update, as I haven't gotten my hands on the new issue of Entertainment Weekly yet. See you then. And keep it real in '08!

Friday, June 20, 2008

A Man, A Plan, A Canal , A Hat- Panama!

It's been a hectic week. Went to Vegas for a few days, which is always fun - it's the worst aspects of American culture all in one convenient location. The stink of avarice, lust and desperation wafts through the casinos' air conditioning systems, and everybody you encounter looks like they're either auditioning for The Hills or Wife Swap. What's not to love?

On the home front, I've got to contend daily with my female (and gay male) co-workers hitting on me for 8 hours at a time, due to my animal magnetism (I spray on monkey pheromones every morning) and absolutely stunning ass. In fact, a certain co-worker who shall remain nameless (Mia) cannot stop staring at it, even when she's driving a forklift, and is so obsessed she's always making Freudian slips like "So my grandfather just died and I was wondering if you could cover for me on Wednesday so I can attend YOUR ASS IS MAGNIFICENT". I swear, man: women - can you think of something besides sex at least every couple minutes or so? You're never going to get equal treatment in the workplace until you learn to start acting professional (and "stripper" and "call girl" are not the professions I'm talking about here, for the record). I would offer to give a seminar on how to conduct yourself in a corporate environment if I didn't know my offer would be answered by every single woman in the office with "Yeah, I'll attend your long as it's in my pants!". So childish. We've got a long way to go, my sisters.

Also, a friend of mine had a family emergency, so I'm feeding his cat after work, which is no big deal, except this particular cat, much like Jeremy Piven, has a propensity for vomiting cat food and hairballs all over every inch of carpeted space in the apartment (never on the hardwood floors, for some reason) (that reason being that cats are straight from the devil). So I've taken to calling it Vomiting Cat, or V.C. for short, and let me tell you something: this V.C. is worse than the V.C. I had to fight back in 'Nam (V.C. Andrews, of course I mean). But then, nothing's as easy as it used to be, is it? Anyway, do any of you care about my pain? No, you vultures are only interested in picking over the carcasses of these poor, sweet People letter writers. Well, here you go, you soulless bastards (by the way, this is the second time since I've been doing this that Entertainment Weekly didn't have a letters page in their current issue, ostensibly because it's a Special Issue, I guess. But really, aren't all their issues special? Oh, I'm using "special" in the sense of "retarded" here, in case you just fell off a fucking turnip boat or something):

People, June 30, 2008

I was saddened to hear about Shania Twain and her husband, Robert "Mutt" Lange, splitting up. I can't believe he allegedly left a stunning woman like Shania for the matronly-looking lady who was supposed to be one of his wife's best friends. Shania's heart will eventually heal. In the long run, she's lucky to be rid of him. He's not a mutt, he's a hound dog.
Janice Pielert

Stamford, Conn.

"Just one picture - I'm late for my gig as chair of
a conference on anthropogenic global warming. Do my nipples
project that necessary blend of commitment tempered by compassion?"

Wait - you're complaining that he left her for an older, plainer looking woman? I thought this was exactly what Nora Ephron and all those horrible Diane Keaton movies wanted to happen. Jeez, you get pissed if he leaves her for some young bimbo, you get pissed when he leaves her for some old bag - what would make you happy, if he started dating a friggin' turtle? Make up your feeble mind, for God's sake.

She is lucky to be rid of him, I'll grant you - did you know he produced Foreigner? And Def Leppard? And Bryan Adams? Maybe now that he's out of the picture, her music will finally stop sucking the stank out of my sheeyot. Somehow I doubt it, though.

Them young girls, they do get weary,

Shania is a brave and independent woman. I'm sure she will recover from this heartbreak and be better than ever. I can't wait to hear new music from her and see her with a loving, faithful, younger man.
Kristen Komis

Miami Beach, Fla.

Why wouldn't she be independent? She's a multi-millionaire! It's pretty easy to be "independent" when you don't have to worry about those nagging details that compromise your freedom such as cooking or driving or doing your own shopping or having to slog through a soul-crushing job for sixty years before dying in utter obscurity and leaving an unmanageable amount of debt for your equally poor family to pay off. Yep, it takes a special brand of bravery to be able to weather the breakup of a relationship (which we all know is is precisely equivalent to being a prisoner of war for 8 years) and still manage to carry on with your hugely successful career and life of luxury. And they say there are no heroes anymore.

I don't know why you Shania fans are so hung up on age, but personally, I hope she snags an older man, myself. Preferably much older - like, old enough to believe a woman's place is in the kitchen, so I never have to hear from her again, unless I happen to be shopping in a Ross when one of her songs comes over the P.A. And if I am, at least I know the meth-heads will be distracting enough that it won't be too painful.

Don Henley must die,

That Kate Hudson sure is resilient, isn't she? It's heartwarming to see how she gives herself a full week before moving on to the next man who is "wonderfully suited" for her.
Mary Burroughs

Centennial, Colo.

You'd better not be puking on the carpet, goddammit, because I've only got one more day to feed you. I mean, I just assume "Mary" is a pseudonym and you're actually my friend's cat, because all I got from your letter was "Me-ow".

I've had relations with girls from many nations,

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Thursday, June 12, 2008

As God Is My Witness, I Thought Turkeys Could Fly

Well, it's Thursday, so here's your update. You know, I thought I'd be much happier confining myself to one post a week - it's an easily attainable goal, and should theoretically give me plenty of time to go through the letters and think up kick-ass responses. But it turns out I still wait until the end of the day before even bothering to read the letters pages and then make it up as I go along. You think this is how John Grisham works? I'd bet a billion dollars it is.

People, June 23, 2008

I absolutely love Ashlee Simpson - she is the kind of woman I want to be. I am so happy that she has found Pete Wentz, who is so perfect for her. She deserves the world, and all I wish for her and Pete is happiness.
Maggie Ascher

Seattle, Wash.

Photographic proof that the fabled race of
super-raccoons Plato spoke of actually exists!

She's the kind of woman you want to be? Come on, I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit. I have no doubt you possess all the characteristics necessary to be a talentless poseur right now! All you need to do for a complete Single White Female-type identity usurpation is find yourself some aspiring "musician" who wants to sound like Blink-182 except not so edgy, and you're set. Try your local mall - they're full of exactly this type (especially working behind the counter at Hot Topic).

I have a question, though: when you say you're "so happy for her", are you really indulging in that catty "I'm so jealous of that stupid bitch but I'm going to go overboard with my fake enthusiasm and hope she gets eaten by a fucking rabid badger" behavior I've seen so many women (and Southerners as a group) exhibit when others achieve some level of personal or professional success, or are you being genuine? Because, frankly, either way I think you're nutty as a squirrel. But, to be fair, I pretty much think that about anybody who'd say Ashlee Simpson deserves the world. Unless by "the world" you mean "swift obsolescence followed by decades of dreary regret". I admit, I'm not really up on all you Gen-Yers' slang. "Put on your bra and get out!" is pretty much all the communication I've had with any of you, to be honest. Oh, the shame of it all.

Seeing other people - at least that's what we say we are doing,

I'd love to be the bookie taking bets on how long Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz's marriage will last. I give it less than a year after their child is born.
Eileen Schnatter

Flanders, N.J.

I don't know what kind of ultra-pussy bookies you hang out with, but no self-respecting specimen I've met would even know these two idiots exist, much less take bets on their marriage. I realize your brain's probably a bit addled from the lingering excitement of the Sex & The City premiere, but in real life burly, hairy, balding, cigar-chomping palookas don't have hearts of gold or well-hidden tender sides. There is, in fact - just like Sex & The City - nothing below the surface. Not every asshole is a wounded bird who just needs you to nurse him tenderly back to wholeness, Eileen. Most of them are simply, well, assholes. I'm only trying to save you years of heartache, you realize. And maybe help some poor teenage girl who's infatuated with her high school's version of the "troubled" motorcycle rebel who might be reading this. Don't do it, girlfriend! He'll only hurt you in the end. On the other hand, he most likely will bring you to screaming multiple orgasms, so it's a bit of a trade-off. Whew. I wonder if Spike's going to be at the 20-year reunion?

Oh - I do agree with you about the time-frame, though, Eileen.

Elenore, gee I think you're swell,

Entertainment Weekly, June 20, 2008

"Mad men" takes us back to a time that was beautiful on the outside - but not on the inside.
Mary Brick

Centreville, Pa.

So you're saying it takes us back to basically every single period in the history of humankind, then? Oh, wait - I always forget: The '70s were actually ugly on the inside and the outside. So I guess that narrows it down. Good work, old bean!

The KKK took my baby away,

As a fan of Lloyd Kaufman's since "The Toxic Avenger", I'm giving you props for showing some love to the Troma film "Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead" (Movies, #994). It's a shame my local multiplexes couldn't find room for this undeniably original movie. That's pretty clucked-up.
Scott Milletics

Camp Hill, Pa.

For the love of all that is holy, please shut the fuck up.

I can't find you, stay where you are,

The cover of your Summer Movie Preview (#994) read "All The Hottest Albums & Tours", so I excitedly thumbed through the issue. But I found out that apparently country music barely exists.
Calvin Fleck

Red Deer, Alberta

Thanks for passing that along - I, too, am delighted by this news!

Wasn't it you and I who made promises of eternity?,

Unlike Chris Nashawaty, I WAS one of those kids who grew up reading comic books with a flashlight in bed. To people like me, the dominance of superheroes in theaters is a dream come true. Right now is our time - just deal with it.
Dave Rousseau

Spokane, Wash.

Oh, I'll deal with it, all right. But this isn't about me. Holy fucking shit, Batman - it's your time! Whatever will you do with it? Excel in the business world and date a never-ending stream of gorgeous models, I'd guess, based on my experience dealing with superhero-comic fans. Or, oh! - or maybe you can all get together after an advance screening of the new shitty-looking-CGI Hulk movie and perfect your robot ninja army! Then all those girls who never noticed you in high school will see how wrong they were to be so shallow and decide to birth you a Justice League worth of babies! Having thus established your dominance, you'll be able to convince the populace that "Weird Al" Yankovic and Steve Wozniak would be the perfect ticket for the Democratic nomination in 2012, and your kind will finally rule the earth as you've always secretly known you should! You'll advise them to change the National Anthem to the Imperial Attack theme from Star Wars, and they'll ram that shit through Congress (which will consist of Stan Lee, Frank Frazetta, the corpse of Jack Kirby and their assorted lackeys)! The world will be your oyster! Or at least some non-shellfish type of food that you're not deathly allergic to.

Get teenage kicks right through the night,

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Shut the fuck up, Donny

People, June 9, 2008

Mariah is once again at the top of the pop charts, her body is in great shape, and now she has found true love with Nick Cannon. This is a dream come true. I can't wait to see what the future has in store for them.

Michelle Thomas

Chesterfield, Mo.

Carlton Banks practices the move Tom Cruise
taught him on a pumpkin with a weave.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say the future holds more shitty soulless songs filled with unnecessary melismas that will sell by the truckloads to the dumb-fuck zombie masses that keep Clear Channel Communications rolling in green rather than having their headquarters justly bombed as they would be in any kind of sane world. And also more of whatever the hell it is Nick Cannon does. Horrid Nickelodeon-level stand-up? Direct-to-DVD high school comedies? Sub-Insane Clown Posse moronic rapping? I can't be bothered to look this stuff up on somebody who doesn't even have the benefit of possessing decent cleavage.

I was heartened to notice you put finding true love behind commercial success and having a great body on your list, Michelle, because that pretty much sums up the People mindset more succinctly than I've been able to manage. A lesson for you, though, grasshopper - it's easy as hell to find true love. Keeping it going after the initial thrill has worn off and you have to deal with each other's weird insecurities and illogical mood swings and somewhat bizarre and disgusting eating habits day in and day out is quite another matter. But hey, these two appear to be emotionally mature enough to navigate such minefields relatively unscathed - with the good lord on their side, they'll come through it with only metaphorically amputated pinky toes. And really, what more can they ask for?

One last thing: When you say "This is a dream come true", do you mean for them or for you? Wait, wait - I don't really want to know the answer. Life's depressing enough.

Times, places and situations lead us to an early grave,

What was Mariah thinking - getting married so quickly to a much younger man? I just hope she had a prenup.
Melissa C. Sarra

Canton, Mass.

Maybe she was thinking, "I already married some old buzzard from the Pleistocene era; maybe it's time to go the other direction and wed a guy who's able to get it up without chemical enhancement". Or maybe "I'd better snag a man before I go shit-stick crazy again and they decide to forcibly sterilize me for the good of humanity". Then again, perhaps her thought process was more along the lines of, "Though it would wound me to upset even one of the fine, non-judgmental residents of Canton, Mass., it would absolutely kill me if I gave up what could be my last chance for true happiness". Because, you know, the entire galactic sector is constantly walking around pissing itself over your opinion.

I'm sure she got a prenup, though - surely even she knows successful, wealthy entertainers such as Mr. Cannon are the biggest gold-diggers out there.

And when I fell on the floor I drank more,

Montel Williams wasn't afraid to hammer controversial subjects like war, racism, AIDS and child abuse. And he didn't just talk about problems; he jumped in feetfirst to help solve them. He was a talk show host with a keen mind as well as a heart and conscience. He definitely will be missed.
Kenneth L. Zimmerman

Huntington Beach, Calif.

"My head? Why, it keeps my thinkin' juice
from sloshing out, you silly goose!"

First off, isn't it kind of assholish to go by "Kenneth"? Fo' realz, dude - is "Ken" just not pretentious enough for you? Brevity is the soul of wit, in case you hadn't heard.

Second, did Montel Williams die? From the eulogizing tone of your letter, it sure sounds like it. If his show merely got canceled, however, you need to calm your ass down. I'm sure he can land a gig on some local cable-access station or one of the "wacky" morning zoo radio programs so beloved of sales associates and other retards. No need to freak out. M.W. always lands on his feet.

Third, I agree with you that he was brave to tackle such controversial topics. I can't tell you how many times I've turned on the news or checked the blogosphere in the hopes of hearing anybody saying anything about the war. And why can't we have any kind of debate in this country without the hordes of rabid pro-racism, pro-AIDS, pro-child abuse idiots shouting down us righteous few? I tell you here and now, it's a miracle Monty wasn't assassinated for so blatantly taking on such hot-button issues. If not for many, many other perfectly valid reasons.

Fourth, I'm going to need a cite for your claim that Montel didn't just talk about problems, because that's pretty much all I ever saw him do. Maybe you're confusing him with Dr. Phil - they are both bald and annoying. Dr. Phil's a little blacker, though. I'm also going to need a cite that "feetfirst" is a legitimate word.

Fifth, I don't know how it's possible to describe someone as having a "keen mind as well as a heart and a conscience" when they gave scumbag con artists like Sylvia Browne a weekly platform to spew their hateful lies. But maybe that's because I haven't yet achieved Buddha nature.

Sixth, though I'm sure you'll miss him, I have no doubt you'll find some other enriching activity to occupy your time between 10:00-11:00 am on weekdays. I'm guessing it will involve smoking an extra bowl of weed and coming up with new excuses for why you can't land a job. So no more tears, mister! Life's going to pass you by whether Montel's around to guide you or not.

Down in the tube station at midnight,

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Is That All There Is?

Jesus, this whole week has slipped by me. I keep working on updates for both blogs and end up getting screwed (really, screwing myself) out of time. Here's my new lazy version of my posting promise: I will, if it kills me, at least do a new post by Thursday of each week. For now, I leave you with these exciting developments:

Lindsay Lohan sex tape! Jessica Alba topless photos! Asian schoolgirls tight pussy fucking action! Thousands of free full-length porn videos! Drunk teen loses her virginity! MILF bukkake party! Unreleased U2 album available for download! Tits, tits, tits! This young hottie loves overweight men with tiny cocks! Get oxycontin legally! Win a 2009 Porsche Boxster! Tits, tits, tits! Find a fuck-buddy in your area! Jesus is coming back - click here to find out when! Free monkeys! Some stupid fucking athlete whose name I don't know's signed 5,000,000th home run ball! GTA4 for only $2.99! Toby Keith takes it up the ass! Your free gift: My balls across your nose, bitch! Obama chooses running mate! Troop withdrawal from Iraq announced! Me make poo-poo in me pantaloons! 50 Cent vs. Jason Mraz in caged death match! Sharon Stone's failed career result of karma! Tits, tits, tits!

Sorry. Just want to see how many Google hits I get off that.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Allow Myself To Introduce...Myself

I swear, I don't know how all these bloggers manage to blog on a daily basis. They must all be trust fund babies or have jobs that only require them to work an hour or so a day (i.e., managers/executives) to be able to fit it in. Well, I am neither independently wealthy nor a bastard, so please forgive my cretinous tardiness in updating. Also, please forgive the brevity of this entry, but I'm running out of interesting letters to respond to, so I'm half-assing it here. Then again, what do I owe you people? Nothin', that's what.

Entertainment Weekly, Sex & The City Issue

Sadly, I'm filled with gloom about the summer movie season - predictably full of comic-book adaptations, teen sex comedies, and sequels (Summer Movie Preview). I wish more filmmakers would take a cue from Woody Allen and make more original summer fare, like his upcoming 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona'.
Tracey Maine

Parkersburg, W.Va.

I wish more filmmakers would take a cue from Allen and start fucking their adopted children, personally. That way they could film it (you know 99% of directors have to have cameras set up in their bedrooms - and half of those probably shout out directions during the act, too: "I'm sorry, that moaning's not working for me. Could you try it a little more in the style of Me Ryan in the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally? That's it. Perfect. And, CUT!") and post it on the internet and we'd finally have some porn with real production values and a sense of vision. Not to mention the fact that, were Woody to sell his sex tape over the internet, he'd probably make more than the grosses of his last 30 films combined. Who's with me? Come on!

Speaking of screwing Woody Allen, I'm not convinced you aren't doing it yourself. Or possibly you're just his publicist posing as a lowly EW reader, since you went out of your way to badmouth teen sex comedies - which I will not stand for - and followed it up with some praise for a film of his that hasn't even been released yet. You're not exactly putting the "b" in "subtle". Still, if you are indeed a member of Mr. Allen's inner circle, do you think you could show him this screenplay I wrote? I figure he might have someone in his Rolodex who could direct it without making it suck.

Please don't call me Reg, it's not my name,

Entertainment Weekly, May 30, 2008

Ellen Pompeo's Meredith isn't just the namesake of 'Grey's Anatomy' - she's its heart and soul.
Sam Kuntz


"Don't I look sultry and sexy? My secret: I was just hit by a car!"

Guess that would explain why the show's so vapid and unappealing, then, wouldn't it? Now run along, afore I be forced to pee on you.

p.s. I was going to mock you for writing in about such an obvious chick show, but after noting your last name, I figured you've probably been mocked enough in your life.

Giving out their word 'cause it's all that they won't keep,

People, June 2, 2008

Heidi Montag must have been dreaming! She can't possibly think that we'd believe she looks like that when she wakes up in the morning. Heidi may want to take a cue from the other cast members who were confident enough to show their true selves.
Donna Alves

San Jose, Calif.

Heidi Montag: She can annex my pole-land any day

Oh, Donna,
Who did what, now? Heidi Montag - is she the chancellor of Germany? Because if she is, I can tell you from personal experience, the bitch looks absolutely ravishing when she wakes up in the morning. Also, though she once played the role of Danny Zuko in an off-Broadway production of Grease, she no longer has any other "cast members", so I haven't the muh'fuckin' foggiest what you're on about. Perhaps you meant to say "members of her cabinet". Maybe you should try studying history some time, so you don't end up sounding like such a total fucking donkey. People like you are the reason we're losing the lucrative plastic chew-toy industry to the Chinese.

I went to the chair and I sat in it,

Entertainment Weekly, Summer TV Preview '08

As a Oliver Stone fan, I expect 'W' will be like his other films: wildly inaccurate yet fascinating.
Jeff Littleton


I think you misspelled "irrelevant" and "boring as a pair of thumbs".

I'm sure that everybody knows how much my body hates me,

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Not A Real Update...

...Though I'd planned an entry; suffice to say, things didn't work out (I didn't even update my other blog tonight, and most of that shit's already written), but maybe I'll be able to finish the post tomorrow morning (if the fuckers at work will get off my back about doing my "job"). So let me do just a couple shout-outs:

1. News flash!: Not all Entertainment Weekly letter writers are stupid monkeys!
Finally, one of them responds to an entry of mine without coming off like a whiny loser. She posted her comment here, and proved conclusively that even people who read trashy magazines are capable of possessing a sense of humor about themselves and using their brains for purposes other than watching TV. See, the difference between most of these correspondents and me (and no, it's not that I'm so much smarter than they) is that if some random blogger I didn't know personally attacked me in (cyber-)print, I wouldn't give a shit. I might even find it funny. In fact, anybody who wants to start a website dedicated to how much I suck and write scathing pieces about my proclivity for raping kittens or whatever, be my guest. Frankly, strangers' opinions of my worth as a human being stopped mattering to me in 9th grade. Kimberly would appear to be made of similar stuff, and it's heartening to see she didn't take my attack personally and got the (admittedly caustic) joke. So I thank you, madam, for responding in a witty fashion, and to answer your question (Who should play me in the biopic of your life), I think you'll agree there is but one clear-cut choice: Jeremy Piven.

2. Moo!
I'm sure I'm the last one in this hemisphere to become aware of this, but on the off chance you haven't seen it yet, this is quite possibly the funniest thing on all the internets. Oh, in theory, it sounds like it should be the lamest, most uninspired pile of worthlessness ever, but I was literally crying from laughing so hard at the absurdity of it all. Trust me, if you like this here blog, the humor's right up your alley.

And now, I am spent.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Believe It Or Not, George Isn't At Home...

As I mentioned, I'm doing a second blog now, so I won't be updating this one on a daily basis anymore (not that I really have been anyway), but I'll keep it up at least a few times a week. If you know what I mean. And if you do, please pass it along to me. I'm totally lost.

People, June 2, 2008

Like Julianne Moore, I too have spent my life wishing for a new hair color. Not anymore! Thank you for letting the world know redheads are unique and beautiful and for making me feel special.
Amy Hartman

Grove City, Ohio

I hate to take a dump in your oatmeal, but not all redheads are beautiful (much less unique - a good rule of thumb when using this term: if there's more than one of something, it's not unique in any sense of the word). Maybe you're unfamiliar with that annoying kid who always called Phillip Drummond "Mr. D." and sang fucked-up country songs on Diff'rent Strokes? You know, the little butt-ass who went on to star in that sub-Saved By The Bell-level atrocity Salute Your Shorts? Well, take my word for it, he was about as fugly as they come. There are, of course, also many attractive redheads (as there are of any friggin' hair color [except white - albinos and the elderly will always be hideous]), as pretty much anyone with even an IQ in the low teens would suspect. Furthermore, I'm pretty sure "the world" already knew this without having to be reminded by People. Why it's news to you is puzzling, but I'm glad a single article about Julianne Moore was able to reverse a lifetime of low self-esteem. Just think, pretty soon people won't need therapists at all - they'll just go into the therapists' waiting rooms and read their magazines to gain a whole new perspective! And with all the money they end up saving, I'm sure they'll start a foundation to end the persecution of you poor, oppressed gingy freaks. If you can dream it, you can do it!

I wanna destroy you,

I do not understand how Jennifer Aniston can be interested in John "love 'em and leave 'em" Mayer. He has blown through so many sweet girls; I hope Jen wises up.
Margaret Loper
via e-mail

"Were this 50 years ago, I might actually look like a rebel, rather
than a poseur douche sitting for a high school yearbook picture."

To be honest, if I was Ms. Aniston I'd be less worried about whether he was going to dump me than I would about whether I was in fact a mouth-breathing moron, given that he'd previously dated Jessica Simpson and Jennifer Love Hewitt, both of whom would appear to possess roughly the same level of sentience as a Holstein. The man's (and I use that term loosely) obviously got a type, and suffice it to say, there's a reason he never wrote a song called "Your Mind Is A Wonderland".

In any case, I'm sorry to report that I don't think she's going to "wise up" any time soon. I mean, wasn't she dating that singer from Counting Crows for a while? She's apparently learned nothing about moving up on the horrible Adult Alternative Musician dating ladder. I'm not sure if John Mayer is a step up or a step down - I've misplaced my Annoying Pop Fool conversion chart - so let's just call it a lateral move and be done with the whole sorry subject.

I'm the all-night drug-prowling wolf who looks so sick in the sun,

Entertainment Weekly, May 30, 2008
Between the tousled hair and the bare back, the photo of Miley Cyrus in Vanity Fair is an adult, erotic image (News & Notes). Disney needs to make a decision. If they want "a billion-dollar empire based on one girl's goodness," as you put it in your article, they need to stop giving their teenage TV stars recording contracts and making them into goddesses. Get the hint already, Disney: If you don't want these teens to act like adults, stop TREATING them like adults!
JoAnna Yoder

Newport, Ore.

Verily, I have a hankerin' for some PEZ!

Tousled hair and a bare back, you say? Thank goodness she didn't show any exposed ankle, or there'd be a national panic. A run on the banks! Blackouts and looting! Pigeons flying into office windows! It'd be bedlam, I tell you! And, as usual, all because some damn teenager decided on an "adult, erotic" pose for their photo shoot. What's it going to take for this country to wake up and realize that mussing your hair and exposing your back is the first step down a road that ends in a degrading three-way with a couple of undesirable minorities in some fleabag motel off the Jersey Turnpike? It's a story as old as time, and nearly as inevitable. Miley should be grateful there are such arbiters of morality as you to keep her in check.

Your business acumen is questionable, though. If they want to build the chick into a billion-dollar empire, shouldn't they give her a recording contract? Admittedly, I don't have an MBA - I'm not yet a big enough asshole to qualify for the program - but it seems to me that if you want to exploit somebody for your own financial gain, it's wise to force them into as many possible money-making ventures as you can think of. If they can wrangle it - and if any entity can, it's Disney - they ought to get her recognized as a sovereign nation, mint Republic of Miley Cyrus currency, and open up trade with China. Then, if they're lucky, maybe she can become a nuclear power, which will give her even more bargaining power. Nothing commands respect like the ability to destroy every living thing on the planet except the cockroaches (which unfortunately means the world still wouldn't be rid of Jeremy Piven). If Disney knew shit about shit (which they don't), they'd get to work on this plan before Miley does something to destroy the public goodwill she's built up, like wearing a skirt cut above the knee or flaring her nostrils in a suggestive manner or somesuch. Do no corporations even care about Total Global Domination anymore? This is no longer the country I grew up believing in.

I fell into a burning ring of fire,

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Hey, yo! I finally did the first post for my new Blog, The 1,001 Worst Songs Of All Time. I may post again to it tonight, since, unlike this blog, I'm not making it up on the spot, but actually have quite a lot of entries already written. Please go check it out, and feel free to make suggestions (though I've most likely already thought of them). Also, if anybody feels like contributing, shoot me an e-mail - if it fits stylistically and it's a song I don't already have an entry written for, I'll be happy to post it. Later, fools!

Monday, May 19, 2008

You're Such A Super Lady

People, Most Recent Issue (Can't read the date on this copy, sorry)

What I find most disturbing about polygamists is that they promote a lifestyle with the same problems that have plagued much of America for decades: parents switching between multiple sexual partners, uneducated women in near-constant states of pregnancy and girls growing up with little self-esteem. This just demonstrates that when practices are cloaked in the sacred veil (or, in this case, dowdy pioneer frock) of religion, they are often just the same old sins.
Robyn Keyster

DeKalb, Ill.

Things must be pretty bad in DeKalb if you consider swinging parents and stupid, habitually pregnant women perpetual problems in American society. In fact, it's a good thing you didn't throw in a line about the crack epidemic, or I'd be inclined to regard the litany of social woes you describe as "plaguing" us as somewhat racist rantings. Luckily, you didn't, so I'm sure you're just concerned about the social injustice inherent in a free and democratic society.

You're correct in your assertion that religion tends to promote low self-esteem in girls, too. I wonder why that would be? When I read most holy books, women seem to be so highly regarded! Why, in the Christian Bible itself, Shirley the most compassionate and loving of all major religious texts, I defy you to find women represented as anything less than The Divine Master's most perfect creation. I believe history has borne this interpretation out. I mean, who can forget the beloved Pope Mary Catherine, or the Church's many suffrage movements throughout the centuries? It's a conundrum, to be sure. Thankfully, this is a secular country, and we're not about to start dispensing special benefits to people just because they claim to have fuzzy, non-falsifiable "spiritual" beliefs, so I'm sure this whole cult thing was just a fluke.

Nevertheless, I'd appreciate if you'd refrain from casting aspersions on dowdy pioneer frocks, if you please. My first wife was a dowdy pioneer frock, and she bore me three beautiful frumpy table napkins (all named Jeremy Piven), and I don't think it would help their self-esteem to hear their mother mocked in print. Thank you.

Elementary penguin singing Hare Krishna,

Sorry, Hoda, I like you but I can no longer watch the fourth hour of the Today show since Kathie Lee has joined you. She was annoying with Regis and she is annoying now. When she is gone, I'll come back.
Cynthia Nostrant

Saline, Mich.


Your letter, much like the contents of a Jack in The Box taco, raises more questions than it answers. Who is Hoda? Some little green Jedi prostitute? And when you say you can no longer watch the fourth hour of the Today Show, are we to infer that you actually can watch the first three hours? Because I've got to tell you, that's still about 5 more hours than I can stand. Also, why does Kathie Lee only appear in the fourth hour of the broadcast? Did Regis somehow write into her contract that she would only be allowed to do an hour's worth of TV work per day for the rest of her life? If so, he should win the Nobel Peace Price, in my opinion! And another thing: What is Kathie Lee - like, in her 70s? Have you ever known people to become less annoying as they grew into senior citizens? I sure haven't. So there's really no reason for you to have included that sentence. And then there's the fact that you think some huge media conglomerate gives a rat's ass whether one lone viewer shuts the program off after three goddamn hours in the first place. It's all so baffling. You should write a mystery novel, or a screenplay for David Lynch! Don't hide your light under a bushel (whatever that means - I assume it has something to do with shaving your pubic region).

You're making out with schoolkids, winos and heads of state,

Entertainment Weekly, "Sex And The City" Issue '08 (That's what it says, for reals)

After reading your Where in the World Is Osama bin Laden? review (Movies), I found it pleasantly ironic to turn the page and see a review of Helen Hunt's Then She Found Me. Just recently I'd asked myself, "Where in the world is Helen Hunt?" Thanks for the update.
Barry Leibowitz

Cheshire, Conn.

"Does this mean I now have to star opposite that bland Paul Reiser
in a horrible sitcom and endure constant comparisons to Leelee Sobieski?
Fine. You may kill me now, Western devils."

You don't honestly expect me to believe you asked yourself that, do you? I hope not, because that would make you pretty damned retarded. I mean, I suspect that if I was teaching a special ed class and one of the students piped up, apropos of nothing, "Mr. John, why haven't we heard from Dick Van Patten for so long?" I probably wouldn't be all that shocked, but if my girlfriend left me a note that she'd be out late at her sister's and then added "By the way, do you know what Esther Rolle's been doing with herself lately?", it'd be time for counseling, or at least a trip to the NSA fuck-buddy section on Craigslist. I gather you see my point. If not, hopefully there's an authority figure around that makes sure you only use the baby scissors.

Also, I'm not sure you understand the meaning of "ironic". But you still get a gold star from me!

Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm satisfied,

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Entertainment Weekly, Dec. 14, 2007

When Alicia Keys returned from her Egyptian vacation, was she actually worried about how many breaks she'd get between interviews? With all of the resources she has, I'd rather have read about her setting up a foundation in memory of the family member she lost to cancer.
R.M. Sheridan

Keyport, N.J.

"For my next number, I'd like to do a cover of one of my
favorite songs. This one's called 'Meat Hook Sodomy'.
C'mon, give it up for Cannibal Corpse, y'all!"

Me too! That sounds like it would be a super fun read! Though if the family member's already dead, I don't see what good a foundation's going to do at this point. I mean, I'm sure she's wealthy, but it's not like the medical research community is going to be able to cure the disease if they could just raise a couple more mil or anything. I'm sure she recognizes what a great humanitarian you are by bringing up her personal tragedy to shame her about her success, though. I know I'm always hearing the wealthy express their appreciation for people with no money telling them how they should spend theirs. Just more proof that there's no animosity between classes in this country.

It is bizarre that she'd be worried about the breaks between interviews, though, isn't it? It's not like we regular schlubs ever get worked up over such trivial things, like having to wait in line at the drive-thru or forgetting to set the TiVo to record The Hills. No, we have the proper perspective, and therefore don't care if we have to spend every minute of our lives engaged in mundane routine, because we realize that merely being alive is the most precious gift of all. If I've said it once, I've said it 100 times: celebrities are the urinary tract infection coursing through the genitalia of modern society (except for Jeremy Piven, who is the gonorrhea). Thank God our culture doesn't put them on a pedestal. Nobody'd survive The Rapture if we all followed their example. And that would be a damn shame, because I know I, personally, can't wait to party with the Left Behind crowd. Those chicks are so proper and repressed you just know they're wildcats in the sack! Either that or really, deadly boring. Much like your letter.

The body of Christ is a cracker,

Spotted: Me n luv w/the EW spot on S&B of The CW's GG. OMG: The Gossip Girl feature ("Psst...Did You Hear?") was exactly what we 2.6 million viewers wanted.
John Quertermous

Murray, Ky.

Did you eat a pound of fucking asbestos or something before writing this? Your entire first sentence nearly gave me a grand mal seizure, you ass. I assume you're a male over the age of twelve (though you are a fan of Gossip Girl, so nothing is as readily apparent as I'd wish), and so you should never use chat-room/text message speak in mixed company ("mixed company" used here to mean "every non-plant form of life in existence"). Although I suspect your little instance of asininity is what got your letter published, because overall it's entirely lacking in content. I should also point out that 2.6 million viewers adds up to less than 1% of the population in this country, so you might not want to be advertising to the network execs just how poorly the show is doing if you're such a fan. Then again, it is on the CW, so they're probably happy to have anybody other than maximum security inmates and dogs who've learned how to turn turn on the TV watching. In any case, I haven't heard the term "Murray, KY!" since I worked as a male prostitute in a Jewish ghetto. So thanks for dredging up the painful (yet paradoxically wonderful) memories, as well. You are a dummy.


People, May 12, 2008

I found that the celebrity excerpts from the book Healthy Child Healthy World informative and inspiring. I'm happy to know that people are now focusing on eco-friendly living. By the way, my family loved Gwyneth Paltrow's recipe for organic roast veggie sticks.
Meg Leidy

Los Angeles, Calif.

"Excuse me? Has anyone seen my contact lens?
It's blue, and round, and - oh, wait, it's in my eye."

You know, it's amazing what people will tell you they "love" when you're providing them with shelter and clothing and allowance money and sex and tax breaks. Plus, I notice you live in Los Angeles, where even the air is full of shit, so you should take anything anybody ever says to you with a grain of salt, and then disregard it entirely. No kid who wasn't raised in a cult is gonna be excited about anything called "organic roast veggie sticks". And I thought it was common knowledge that anything even tangentially associated with Coldplay is to be avoided like Jeremy Piven after a burrito binge. Do try to keep up, darling.

I'm with you on the eco-friendly living, though. Last time I was in L.A., residents only used their Hummers if they were going to travel 4 blocks away or more, and refused to buy any marijuana that wasn't grown locally. I'm just glad that the environmental practices used by countries like China and India are in no way going to counteract our efforts here, since it's an established fact that their pollution will be unable to break through the lines of longitude that separate their continent from ours. Good thing we started the Green movement after they invented maps, or we'd all be doomed. Doomed, I say!

Southern girls, you got nothing to lose,

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Who Are Parents?

Some quick clarifications/unnecessary utterances:

Regarding the closing sections of my responses: There's no great mystique to it - I pretty much just use lyrics from whatever song's playing on my mp3 player at the time - or, if it's too embarrassing a selection, I just try to come up with a song that has lyrics somewhat suitable to the topic.

I mentioned my upcoming music-related blog yesterday, but I forgot to link to my friend Paul's (the guy I'm working on the book project with) own music blog. Read it. The man knows his shit.

'Nother thing I was asked about (for some reason I find it easier to deal with all this stuff here, rather than e-mail the person back - maybe I'm an exhibitionist. Or maybe I just don't want to get caught in a never-ending correspondence): Is any of this political? It seems like a strange question, but I actually do consider the concept and content of my blog political. If I were to make it overtly so, however, it probably wouldn't be funny, and I already have enough trouble not going over the top with righteous indignation just responding to these sub-moronic letters as it is. So, at the risk of ruining something by explaining it too much, I'll simply state that if you think I'm in any way right wing, you're not only missing the point of this blog but probably also fail to see the humor in it at all.

Shameless self-promotion: Please click on the "Humor Blogs" link to the right - it gives me "points" with that site when people navigate there from my page, which in turn allows me to...get a half-price Slurpee or something. I don't know. I can't be expected to read the text of every form I agree to the terms & conditions of. So, click on it. Or don't. To be honest, it's not a big priority for me.

Finally, I'd like to apologize for the caption of John Krasinski in this entry, because I actually like him (on TV, I mean; I haven't been stalking him or anything) (yet), but the other letters I picked didn't lend themselves to pictures. If somebody ever writes a letter about Jeremy Piven, however (fat chance!), be assured I'll mean every word of my mean-spirited caption. Now...To the Batcave!

Entertainment Weekly, April 11, 2008

What were you thinking, giving Funny Games - which made Hostel: Part II look ingenious - a B+ (Movies)? It had not a shred of intelligence, from its ridiculous plot to its bad music to its overly long scenes. Please tell me that your review is an April Fools' joke come early.
Damion J. Rowan


I always shout out "April Fools!" when I come early. It masks the shame and diverts my partner's attention long enough for me to run into the shower and cry. Man, that was way funnier in my head.

As for the rest of your letter, I can't claim to know the reviewer's motives, but I could point out that most of the folks who write for EW have all the brains and aesthetic sense of a honey-cured ham, or that they, like honey-cured hams, tend to buy into the fallacy that anything made by a European director automatically has more depth than similar American product, or even that reactions to art are subjective even to those trained in critical analysis. But most likely the guy just enjoyed looking at Naomi Watts' tits for two hours. Occam's razor saves the day once again!

Beautiful love where have you gone?,

Entertainment Weekly, May 9, 2008

Wow! After scoring so poorly on your "Ultimate TV Quiz," I was amazed at how little television I actually watch. Good for me.
David Kaufman

Frederick, Colo.

Unfortunately, that good is nullified by the fact that you read Entertainment Weekly and waste your time taking its quizzes. And also by the fact that you write a letter for publication that basically consists of patting yourself on the back while simultaneously implying the majority of said publication's readers are inferior to you. Other than that, though, you're awesome!

She was a winner who became a doggie's dinner,

I love your magazine. Thanks for featuring the clever, handsome, smart, and humble John Krasinski in Spotlight. If he were an English teacher in an alternate universe, then I'd love to be the quiet art teacher down the hall, trying to build up the courage to steal him away from the biology teacher (who'd be none other than Rashida Jones!).
J.K. Robinson
San Diego

More exciting: The wallpaper or John Krasinski?

J.K. (I wouldn't use my full name, either),
Wow. Sounds like you've got a fantasy world to rival that of your fellow J.K., Ms. Rowling. And while both your fantasy worlds result in some vaguely disturbing work, at least she's found a way to make some cash off the deal. You, on the other hand, seem to have invested an obscene amount of time in concocting this elaborate "alternate universe" based entirely around someone you will, in all likelihood, never even come into contact with (unless you end up playing out some creepy Travis Bickle-type scenario), and you've even cast, as your rival for his affections, the actress who played his girlfriend on TV. As we in the psychiatric profession tend to say when presented with such cases, you're out of your liver-snap mind, bitch (though I admit that whole teacher triangle idea might make for some fun threesome role-playing, if you're so inclined [and something tells me you are]). First off, nobody's going to date an art teacher - they're one step up on the pathetic ladder from singers in up-and-coming indie rock bands. Trust me, no matter what people might say, they're not really happy to have you sleep on their couch for months at a time and listen to you whine about how the mainstream doesn't "get" you. Secondly, I'm thinking I could make a mint starting a support group for those who confuse TV characters with the actors who portray them, 'cause it sure seems there are way more of you walking the streets than I would have imagined. So thanks for the inspiration. Third, it's my professional opinion that you should maybe buy a goldfish or something. You need to start small. After becoming acclimated to the fish, you could work your way up to a turtle, and if you're lucky, in another decade or two, you'll be ready to interact with normal human beings. Good luck with that. Freak.

I'd be willing to wager that it don't matter much if we keep in touch,

Monday, May 12, 2008


I do apologize for the absence, but last week was my birthday, and the way I understand it, that means I get to do whatever the fuck I want for seven days straight, including ignoring all my responsibilities (blogging, personal hygiene, obeying the bitch-ass "law") and making out with anyone I choose, consequence-free (I'm looking at you, Justin Timberlake! We could make a beautiful man-baby and name him Blanket!). In other words, I lied when I said "I apologize".

Also, I've been working on re-vamping an older music-related blog I used to do, which I'll unveil shortly. Hopefully I'll divide my time between writing that one and this one, which will no doubt satisfy my extreme ADD personality type. Now, if you'll shut up for a minute, I'll get to the feature presentation.

Entertainment Weekly, May 16, 2008

A woman as stunning and talented as Tina Fey shouldn't be allowed to be married to just one man.
John Hardin

Los Angeles

L. to R.: Rachel Dratch (Photoshopped out), Tina Fey

Dear John,
It's a sad state of affairs, to be sure. Next thing you know they'll allow intelligent, attractive women to vote, or earn as much as men in the workplace! Then they'll be ovulating all over important documents (I'm not quite sure what "ovulation" means) and turning the water cooler into a den of gossip! Oh, I can just hear the constant hen clucking now, like a drill boring directly into my head-meat. Why did we ever decide to come out of the Middle Ages?

On the other hand, rather than the draconian solution you propose, maybe we could just let her marry one man and sleep around on the side. That arrangement's seemed to work in the past (and is, in fact, precisely how the entire country of France has been populated). Don't fret, son - I'm sure you'll be right on the top of her list. Now run along, before I feel the urge to vomit on you. Metaphorically, I mean. Also literally. I've driven farther than L.A. to puke on someone, believe me.

Gordon is a moron,

Although I enjoyed your tribute to Charlton Heston ("An Epic Life"), I was disappointed he wasn't on the cover. Every Easter I watch Ben-Hur, and Soylent Green and Planet of the Apes are uncompromised in their uniqueness.
Liz Fajardo
South San Francisco

What's wrong with this picture? (Hint: Everything.)

I was also shocked - shocked, I say! - that they didn't put Heston on the cover. Who does EW think its readers are that they wouldn't want a cover pic of some thousand-year-old fossil to tape onto the inside of their lockers? Especially a thousand-year-old fossil who's done so much iconic film work in the past couple decades? Who will soon forget his stirring role as the voice of "The Mastiff" in 2001's "Cats & Dogs", or the Oscar-worthy performance he turned in as "Eugenie's Father" in 2001's (the man was on fire that year!) "Town & Country"? And as the baby Jesus is my witness, I can't even speak of his work as "Narrator" in "Bagpipe: Instrument of War" without choking up like a gay.

I should point out, though, that it's somewhat difficult for a film to be "uncompromised" in its uniqueness (whatever the hell that means) when said film is basically high camp even when not seen only in retrospect. In other words, cheesy lowbrow sci-fi with O. Henry endings have made so many compromises by the time they're committed to celluloid that only a damn dirty ape could claim any integrity for them whatsoever. But I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know.

It's a nightmare, it's all negative, nothing matters and what if it did?,

p.s. South San Francisco? Jeez, Liz, do you live in a carpet warehouse or an oil refinery or something?

Your article "Going To Pot" asked the question "How DO you get stoners to leave the house?" Well, that's easy: offer a free small popcorn with the movie ticket.
Michele Holley

Sanford, Fla.

Shut yer ovulating yap, woman! I already have to deal with the goddamned elderly loudly pointing out every single plot point to each other and dumb-asses text messaging throughout the movie; now you want to add some potheads giggling at inappropriate moments and not being able to discern whether they're whispering or shouting to the mix? Why not just open the theater to friggin' pigeons so they can fly around and crap on my head, while you're at it? Does nobody have compassion anymore?

Luckily, your plan would never work, for a couple reasons:
First, have you ever seen the small popcorn? That wouldn't lure a starving midget to a movie (Well, maybe Jeremy Piven). The small is basically a thimble, and if you add any fake butter, it's going to push your popcorn right out onto your ugly lap. No way is that going to attract a mob of hopped-up slackers with the munchies. The theaters would have to offer at least a free medium popcorn (which inexplicably comes in a container 20 times larger than the small), and the chains will never fork out for that as long as Jack Valenti's alive. Or dead and running Hell, which is his current occupation, I believe.

Second, I, like most great Americans, have driven stoned as a youth, so I know for a fact that by the time the stoners tooled into the parking lot after engaging in interminable digressive arguments about which film to see and then driving 5 MPH for the next hour to get there, the movie would already be halfway over and they'd just decide to go to Baskin-Robbins instead. Thankfully, the predictability of people on drugs will always work to foil your nefarious plan. If only we could legalize medical marijuana, maybe I'd be free of the old people and their conversations, too. Everybody has a dream, and this is mine. Well, this and the one where I'm back at my high school graduation and it turns out I don't have enough credits to graduate for some reason, but that one hardly seems relevant here, so I'll refrain from bringing it up.

Brassneck! - I've just decided I don't trust you anymore,