My Name Is Churl

Just read that Jenna Elfman’s naming her kid Story.  No surprise.  Just the latest in a long line of life-scarring decisions by one of our uber-elite.

So, listen up.

If you are a celebrity and you have a son or daughter with the name Shiloh Nouvel, Apple, Suri, Zolten, Lyric, Deacon, Zephyr, Diezel, Fifi Trixibelle, Pixie, Denim, Peaches Honeyblossom, Roan, Moxie Crimefighter, Bluebell Madonna or any similar moniker … then you need to hear this.

Stop it.  Just bloody stop it.  The planet is laughing at you and all the money in the world will not be enough to stop the butt-kicking your offspring will get in a few years on whatever private academy playground you send them to.  It will not be enough to pay for the decades of intensive therapy the buggers will need to have anything even half resembling a normal life thanks to your ego and shortsightedness.  Hell, you might as well name the sprog Pretentious or Target.  Same friggin’ result.

You are not naming a pet!  This is a child.  A person.  I know it’s a difficult concept to grasp as you crap out a press op amid the feeding frenzy of the paparazzi, but figure this out soon or you will most certainly face the wrath of a bitter, twisted mini me in a decade or two.  Perhaps it will be a descriptive MySpace blog on which your son makes a rather vivid case to the Social Services Department or perhaps it will be an Internet video that gets downloaded as often per minute as your daughter does on same. 

Regardless, you have been warned.

Bottom line.  Celebrities, stop naming your kids stupid crap.

THE HOT TEN

What’s on my mind?  What have I been watching?  What have I been doing?  What have I been talking about?  The Hot Ten will bring you up to speed. 

PARAMORE ROCKS.  Awesome band. Check out their video, Misery Business. 

FAT IS CONTAGIOUS.  Another reason not to go see Hairspray. 

SHUTTLE ASTRONAUTS DRINKING.  So Lindsay Lohan isn’t falling off the wagon but, instead, she’s doing research for her role in Far Out Space Lush? 

CHENEY’S HEART DEVICE UPDATED.  Doctors at George Washington University Hospital replaced the VP’s defibrillator.  While he was under general anesthetic, the medicos also replaced his ichor with the freshly drained blood of a dozen orphans so that the dark lord may live another hundred years. 

IT’S SHARK WEEK.  Be afraid. Be very afraid.  I mean, seriously!!  How much James Woods can one man take? 

SCOTT BAIO IS 45 AND SINGLE.  A train wreck of a reality show, certainly. But it’s far better than the proposed Scott Baio Has A .45 And Shingles. 

WEEKLY WORLD NEWS FOLDS.  And all across the nation, canaries and other caged birds are forced to clench for lack of decent material. (At least until Donald Trump’s next book comes out.) 

WHO’S YOUR CADDY?  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY, HOLLYWOOD?!!  Jeffrey Jones made better career choices when he was downloading child porn! 

CNN YOUTUBE DEBATE.  In keeping with the spirit of the online video site, when asked how he would remove our troops from Iraq, Obama said, “It’s easy to do if you follow these steps. One: Cut a hole in the box …” 

BRITNEY MELTS DOWN. AGAIN.  Just goes to prove you can take the trash out of the trailer but you can never take the trailer out of the trash.  Didn’t we learn anything from The Beverly Hillbillies, people?

                                                            Sparky MacMillan is earning seven figures and he’s married to a swell Philipino gal.

Hyper-thetical

Who would win in a fight – a Tyrannosaurus Rex or rhino? Did I mention that the rhino has a rocket launcher? Did I mention that the T. Rex is a trained assassin? Did I mention the rhino is gunning for the tyrant lizard king because the dinosaur killed his family? Did I mention that the carnivorous theropod has been extinct for over 60 million years? Did I mention that the rhino has time traveling equipment? Did I mention that Rex has escaped to a parallel dimension? Did I mention the rhino is able to track his prey across timelines? Did I mention I could go on like this all day? Better stop reading this while you can.

Now, imagine the rhino has morphing abilities … but the Tyrannosaur has read Sun Tzu’s “The Art Of War” and he’s studied under some of the great commanders of military history – Wellington, Hannibal, Rommel (“I read your book, you magnificent bastard!”) … only the rhino can see into the immediate future. And the T. Rex needs fuzzy dice, just ‘cuz it makes him look cool. But the rhino has lasers! Yeah, lasers mounted on his horn. Oh, sweet…

I warned you.

And the Rex is frozen in ice which is discovered by scientists millions of years later and he gets thawed out. Crap! That’s the plot of “Dinosaurus!” (And that was a steaming pile of celluloid, lemme tell you.) Oh well. We’ve come this far. But the rhino, he – he has a crack squadron of flying bandicoots which can distract the T. Rex. Snap snap. Crunch. Rrrrrarrrrgghhh!!!! Grrrr!!!!!! Stab. Slash. Fzzzzzt!!! Whirrr. “Dive! Dive!” Aooooooogah! Aooooooogah! Aooooooogah! NNNNNrrrrrrrrroooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!

Yeah, you’re right. It’d probably be a draw. Man. I had money on the rhino.

Sparky MacMillan is 45 and single.

Over The Moon

Thirty-eight years ago, Neil Armstrong took “one giant leap for mankind.” A momentous occasion by anybody’s reckoning. And in the intervening years, our species has visited its satellite merely a handful of times. (Well, handful if you’ve got six fingers, I guess.)

And while everyone is busy celebrating this incredible anniversary, I’m left to scream “Where the hell is my moon city?!” Seriously! Like just about everybody back in the sixties and early seventies thought Apollo was only the beginning. First, the moon, then Mars, then it’s a “Star Trek” world! With flying cars and space vacations and teleportation!

What the heck happened? I want to be able to go to the airport and say, “One ticket to the moon, please” and have them say “Do you have your moon visa?” And I’ll say “Of course!” And they’ll say, ” Have you been inoculated for moon fever?” “Oh, yes, of course.” And then I’ll get on the hover walkway and go to the terminal where the space-stewardesses will show me to my to my rocket chair and off to the moon I go! Three … two … one … blastoff!!!! Zzzzzzooooooom! Whoosh!

C’mon! They promised! I saw it on The Jetsons and Josie and the Pussycats in Outer Space and Ark II and stuff. Come on, people! Get with the program! I want cheap, affordable space travel for all and I want it YESTERDAY!

At least give me my personal jetpack like that guy on In The News had once. I – I saw it. On TV.

Softener Core?

I saw this commercial on TV the other day. I saw it and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I mean, Geez, I thought.  Did I just watch fabric softener porn?  There’s music and dancing and a breezy hottie gyrating.  We see close-ups, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Then the bear winks and there’s an “explosion” … Seriously! This is just one pizza delivery guy away from being in the special section of the video store behind the beaded curtain. And “Release what’s inside?!” Please. Tell me this isn’t soft core.

Sparky MacMillan is the number one fan of the man from Tennessee.

To Hex And Back

I warn you up front – posts this week for me may be on the light side. I am a HUGE Harry Potter fan and have been looking forward to this last installment for years (well, since the last one, obviously). I have managed to avoid ALL news reports about the new tome because I want everything I read to be fresh. Yes, I want my sweaty little hands to be frantically turning those pages with all the excitement of a kid on Christmas day opening that erector set that he’d been hinting for all season. So, I’ve got my Harry Potter glasses and scarf. I’ve got my Hogwarts jacket and my Bernie Botts. I’ve scarred my forehead in the now-infamous jagged lightning shape (I used a paper clip). I’ve even hired an owl, which I’ve trained to fetch my snacks and sodas. All in preparation for this week’s release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

And so, I’m off to stand in line with dozens of other die-hard Pottermaniacs at the local Books-A-Poppin’. We’ll trade stories and hopes and dreams and theories on our beloved series finale. It will be our Woodstock. A be-in of mythic proportions, anxious aficionados assembled for our wonderful wizard. I CAN’T WAIT!!!!! I’ve been looking forward to this all year and nothing better get in my way (I missed the last release due to acute appendicitis).

The last Harry Potter book will be released this Friday, July 27, at midnight – and I will be there.

Oh man.  I’ve had a bad few months.  I NEED this.  Nothing better go wrong.

Sparky MacMillan looks like a dirty marshmallow with fangs.

Hickory …

He’s the Man of Steel. The Last Son of Krypton. The world’s greatest super-hero. But, yeah, Superman is a dick, too.

Don’t believe this fanboy? Oh ye of little faith. See for yourself at http://superdickery.com/dick/1.html.

Strings Attached

When I was seven, I got invited to my cousin’s birthday party. Since his parents couldn’t afford a clown or magician or actual entertainment, my uncle put on a puppet show complete with home-made marionettes. Unfortunately, he had made the damn things out of old G.I. Joes and Barbies and he got the strings crossed and Ski Patrol Joe ended up doing something rather obscene to Skipper.

I can’t say for sure that’s why my relationships are all screwed up, but it can’t have helped.

Hunger Farce

If you missed Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film For Theaters earlier this year, then you were not treated to the best pre-show warning EVER. In the style of those old “Let’s Go Out To The Lobby” numbers, anthropomorphic foodstuffs sing and dance their message – until it is co-opted by a more menacing band of comestibles.

This piece is now on YouTube here but be warned: its language is neither safe for work nor appropriate for kids. However, I think the intro is hilarious and awesome and so to the point that cinemas should be legally required to air it before every movie.

THIS JUST IN

The Tingler! The Tingler is loose in the theatre!

Scream! Scream for your lives!