Sunday, October 31, 2010

mid-term crazy

Well, it's the weekend before the mid-terms and the TV ad vitriol has reached its zenith. 

To listen to these cretins, you'd think we were stuck with a choice of either Stalinist breadline growing communists or gun-crazy idiot fundamentalist christian Nazis.  Who knows?  Maybe TV is right.  After all, TV wouldn't lie now, would it?  Christ, I mean Obama's about as middle of the road as you can get in my book and the right wing rabblerousers already have him pegged as a Muslim Communist Nazi rolled into one, a stark raving bundle of extremism contradictions "comrade"ing and goosestepping all over their version of the constitution, one that doesn't exist outside the confines of their revisionist imagination (of the anti John Lennon variety). 

The left are far more incompetent in their ability to illustrate a vision of the right's love-Jesus-or-die fundamentalist tendencies (generally, those sort of politicos are more effective in demonstrating their own scary brand of wackiness than the left ever could be).   Of course, the left couldn't sell ice in hell.  They're the Willy Loman of the political world and would never win the Cadillac or even the steak knives in Baldwin's Glen Garry sales contest.


I get the feeling that most of the country could probably be classified somewhere in the socially liberal/fiscally conservative bucket, but you rarely hear that voice expressed in the media.  It's just not that entertaining, I guess.  I myself am glued to the left side of this bucket, though my fiscal conservatism is generally aimed at the DoD pig trough, where billions - trillions - get wasted on fat cat contractors while we have soldiers applying for food stamps.  I'd transfer some of that to social programs where we spend relatively little (though you certainly wouldn't think so given the TV ads).

Ahh, yes - the mid-terms.  Rarely a good time for those in power (especially when things aren't good).  It's almost always a purging and given the economic climate, this will be no different.  I suppose that's what keeps us in balance.  But why does it seem like the yahoos we elect are more yahooey every year?  I guess it just seems that way.  But just the fact that super yahoos like Christine O'Donnell end up on a ballot anywhere sends a chill up my spine.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Cinderella sweeping up on Desolation Row

I've certainly neglected this blog of late - it's been nearly two months since I last posted.  Mostly it's because I've been focusing on other things but more than a little is due to it becoming almost an "obligation."   And I don't have a whole lot to say that I can't express through other channels (including a number of other blogs I maintain).  This was my 'rant' outlet and though I've got plenty of things still to rant about, none of them seem all that funny.   So I think I'm going to officially put this guy in mothballs and continue to focus my energies elsewhere.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Of Dolphins and Douches

In a gracious show of sensitivity over the ongoing Oil "spill" his company caused, BP CEO Tony Hayward went yachting this past weekend in "his smaller boat" (leaving his usual schooner, seen at left, back at dock). Hayward made additional sacrifices as well, postponing his 6th annual Dolphin Hunt (that's last year's hunt kicking off on the right) and the traditional Manatee round-up. Classic Daily Show bit. The photo of the "Dolphin Hunt" cracked me up like nothing in awhile.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

I don't care if it rains or freezes ...

It's been an apocalyptic June thus far, what with lightning striking down a six story Jesus in Ohio, a state well known as the nexus of the pending battle against good or evil; in fact, I think the book of revelations says as much in the chapter covering the rock and roll hall of fame.  That old song might go, "I don't care if it rains or freezes, 'long as I got my plastic Jesus" but it doesn't mention lightning.  So bad juju in Oh-hi-oh. And then Thursday some ruffians up and kidnap Jeremy London, forcing him to smoke crack and buy them alchohol.  It seems kind of odd that they didn't ask for a ransom.  Jeremy has been known in the past to partake in the magic rock, but I'm sure this isn't his way of getting in front of bad publicity surrounding a slip off the slope of his sobriety.  I hope these same hooligans don't make their way to Hollywood and mug Lindsay, stealing her SCRAM bracelet and forcing her to ingest copious quantities of booze and coke.  But I wouldn't be surprised.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Of Weeds, Madness, Sheep, Shoes, and other Bullshit

Ahh, the time has come for another season of Penn and Teller's Bullshit! on Showtime.  Brilliant show.  With Weeds and Mad Men just a few weeks away, things are starting to gear up for the TV favorites of yours truly.  I pretty much missed most of the network season recently put into mothballs for that anachronism of yore known as "summer hiatus."  None of that means much in our world of 1000 channels of tube action and virtually infinite choices online but the networks like to pretend the past 15 years never happened, I guess.

In other news, apparently there's a Joan Rivers documentary (you know her: that brilliant director of 1978's Rabbit Test).  Meanwhile, sadly buried in this week's news, the world's oldest pair of shoes was discovered in a layer of Sheep's dung: 5500 years and just like new, thanks to the natural preservatives found in Ba Ba's Poo Poo.  And just where Joan Rivers left them as a child. Ba-dum.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

A well-oiled machine

The Long John Silver's fast food franchise must be thrilled about the Gulf Oil spill as it should save them millions on the very substance they drench all their seafood products in.  Import fish from down Louisiana way and it comes pre-oiled at no cost.  Long John Silverfish isn't the only beneficiary of what on the surface might not seem to have any positives: Mickey D's, Burger King, and the rest all have deep fried seameat on the menu.  Now, with the winning combination of oil, salt and fish all mixed in together, it's time for BP to take a cut of this on-the-go snack food windfall.  Cajun "blackened" fish takes on a whole new meaning now.

Meanwhile, there are more important fish to fry - sorry, poor choice of words; let's just say, "things to worry about" - what with the Hells Angels' takeover of Scandinavia.   I never would have considered this to be possible but the National Geographic channel is telling me it's true.  Probably taking advantage of the burgeoning Lutefisk-based methamphetamine market in those parts.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Death doesn't take a Holiday

Gary Coleman is dead.  Which makes the prospect of a Different Strokes movie all the more unlikely.  Okay, I know there was already a Different Strokes flick starring Dana Plato; however, I meant a non-porno whose storyline is at least vaguely related to the show.  Sure, remake movies rarely include original cast members, except for cameo appearances, but actors are notoriously superstitious beasts and there aren't many that would want to tempt fate by associating themselves with this cursed franchise.  Well, Todd Bridges is still hanging on.  He's not even behind bars anymore.  And he, after all, is the only one who can finally answer the question, "What'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"  Perhaps Todd, Conrad Bain and Charlotte Rae could get together for a reunion show anyway.  Play it real.  Kimberly has killed herself and Arnold has died of stupidity.  Bains and Rae are as old as dirt, so you'd better hurry.  Of course, they'll both probably outlive Bridges in the end.  He's due to go off the deep end soon.

As I write this, I hear of another passing on a whole different scale: Dennis Hopper, one of my favorites ever to grace the silver screen.  To paraphrase his Apocalypse Now photojournalist: "I'm a small man, a small man; he's a great man ... his mind is clear but his soul is mad."  I couldn't put it better.

So as Gary and Dennis stand waiting at the pearly gates (or perhaps a somewhat warmer variant), they must be having an interesting conversation.  Perhaps Art Linkletter has joined them.

Now, on a completely unrelated topic, I'll close with the parting words from more than one of the A-Team episodes I caught on the Centric Network's marathon today.  "Why do they do it?"  "For the Jazz, man.  For the Jazz."   Indeed.  Pure poetry.