Every time I see a headline like “Have Miley Cyrus & Liam Hemsworth Called It Quits For Good?” I imagine the ghost of William Randolph Hearst shouting, “You morons have the nerve to call yourselves journalists? Hell, I manufactured a goddamned war and I have more journalistic ethics than you bastards do!”
Archive for May, 2013
Bill Nye tackles the ever-pressing question – how does Superman shave?
I was thumbing through my copy of The Complete Directory To Prime Time Network And Cable TV Shows the other night when I stumbled across an entry entitled What A Dummy. If you don’t remember this syndicated gem, let me refresh your memory: A kid find his late uncle’s ventriloquist dummy, Buzz, a dummy who was no dummy, as Buzz could walk and talk. Wacky hijinks ensued, of course, in the usual sitcom manner.
Not that I recall this series myself. Even with a memory refreshed and bestirred by the printed word, it sparks not so much as a glint of gray-mattered reminiscence. And, true, as a buff of that vast wasteland of bubble gum for the mind that is TV, very little surprises me anymore. Far sillier premises exist (My Mother, The Car, Bosom Buddies, 60 Minutes just to name a few) but what really startled me is that the show ran 24 episodes! 24 EPISODES!!!! By today’s standards, that’s the equivalent of five years prime time network with a lucrative syndication deal to boot!
Yet, as incredible as the thought that an idea this dumb made it past the pitching stage, through executives’ infinite tweakings, focus groups, and into a package the production company was willing to submit as their best effort, more remarkable still is the sight that befell me only one page over:
Yakov Smirnoff’s network series What A Country! lasted two episodes longer.
My sister had a slumber party for her 14th birthday and I, being the pain-in-the-ass little brother I was, tried to spy on them by hiding in her closet. Unfortunately, by the time the girls finished lip-synching to side A of the Go Gos Beauty and the Beat, I realized I had to pee and tried to sneak out. Of course, my sister’s friends caught me and they put make-up on me and dressed me in a bra and panties and forced me dance around like a stripper. It was humiliating.
Yet, in retrospect, kinda hot.
First K Mart encouraged you to “ship your pants” and now … “Big Gas Savings!” Enjoy and titter.
Have you seen the video of the time travelers on cell phones?
A while back some video surfaced – a clip of an extra in a Charlie Chaplin film, another of a young woman walking out of a factory – purporting to be of people in the 1920s and 1930s on cell phones. Of course, as most everyone who wasn’t homeschooled knows, cell phones weren’t around in the first half of the 20th century. So, by way of explanation, if these people were on cell phones in a time when there were no cell phones then they MUST be time travelers. Complete BS. But if there’s anything the Internet loves it’s unfounded erroneous crap. That means the videos became a bit of a sensation on the worldwide web and even logical protestations such as There were no cell towers for which to get a signal to use the phones! and Time travelers wouldn’t be so stupid so as to call attention to themselves by using futuretech out in the open like that! were met with eyes rolls as if the naysayers just didn’t get the point.
Well, the point is we may never know what exactly these denizens of the past were doing but one thing is clear – we must do the very same to the people of the future! Think about it. Who knows what kind of bizarre and impressive kinds of telecommunication will exist in 50 or 100 years. Maybe a smaller cell phone device surgically affixed to our temples or retina-based readouts were we touch the air and move things around like Minority Report. Geez, it could even be telepathic in nature. So if in a century or two people in the future look back at the quaint videotape or digital media of today and see us doing the things they so perfunctorily do to talk to one another across great distances they will think we are all time travelers!
That’s why we need to start doing these things, whatever they may be. So the next time you pose for a picture at a party or get recorded on a night out with your friends do something that may seem odd today but in the coming centuries could appear as though you are one of them. Touch your thumb and index finger to your temple and talk or gesticulate wildly in the air as if you’re moving unseen video screens. Nod your head and stick out your tongue or grit your teeth and make staccato guttural sounds. Intertwine your fingers and waggle them purposefully. Just do something! Make it look like you’re having a conversation from the future because we want those supercilious bastards to look back at us and freak the hell out! How could they possibly be using the phones like we use them? They didn’t have them! They must be time travelers!! Stupid, you say? Yes, but think of the time they’ll waste trying to make sense of it all.
And, sure, out of every thousand people who do this, 999 will look like complete loons but that one person – that ONE person who just happens upon by sheer accident the exact motion that mirrors whatever passes for a phone call in the 23rd century will make them lose their massive future minds!
So, come on, people. Let’s do it… let’s screw with the future!
Five Musically-Inspired Crayola Colors
New Kids on the Black
Five Future Stupid Internet Fads
Cameling (posing on all fours with something stuffed under your shirt on your back to resemble a hump)
Drumsticking (eating imaginary chicken)
Saucering (holding up large round objects over your eyes)
Evolutioning (multiple people posing as the various stages from the evolution of man chart)
Papering (sticking toilet paper on the bottom of your shoe in fancy situations i.e. wedding photos & graduations pics)
Five Sounds of Silence
One hand clapping
Audience at a Yanni concert
Commitmentphobe’s reaction to “Do you love me?”
Five Douchebags Whose Name I Didn’t Know A Year Ago
Patricia Krentcil (The Tan Mom)
Kai the hatchet-wielding hitchhiker
Ugandan guerilla leader Joseph Kony
Baauer, guy responsible for the Harlem Shake
Five Iron Man Complaints
Electromagnet in chest makes TSA screenings hell
Stark Industries’ Dow Jones abbreviation is STAIN
A-holes who hum that Black Sabbath song in elevators
Pepper seems to have the hots for that dude in Coldplay
In summer, armor cooks chumblies like a baked potato in tin foil
Sparky MacMillan is fully rested and barrel-chested.
“To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” – Robert Louis Stevenson
Not in my book, pally. But I’m selfish in that department.
Hey, Disney. Thanks. Seriously. Thanks a lot. I’ve seen your makeover of the princess Merida from the animated film Brave and I really appreciate it. I know you’re getting a lot of flack for the image alteration – some are even calling it misogynist – but I can’t get enough of it. Sure, the Merida from Pixar’s Academy Award winning film was a cute, feisty, red-haired tomboy. But I felt a little guilty for noticing. She’s practically a child, isn’t she? I didn’t want to be attracted to her. Although I’ve always had a thing for redheads and the lovely Kelly MacDonald’s Scottish brogue made her sound so damn sexy … yet it just wasn’t appropriate to fancy someone so wholesome.
You’ve sexed her up. You’ve given her a more comely look … more fashionable clothes … supermodel tresses and a Christina Hendricks meets Kat von D vibe that makes me realize this character isn’t simply a misunderstood princess any longer but a hot vixen with a come-hither presence who’s on the prowl for something a little more mature than PG action. Yes, Disney, you’ve reimagined Merida into a sexy siren, the type of lusty hottie a bloke doesn’t have to feel bad about desiring.
So, thanks. Thanks a lot, Disney. I’m sure Walt would approve.
Hey, Old Man. What’s the deal? Did you not realize you were out in public? Were you drunk? Did you lose your shirt in a bet?
It wasn’t that hot. Not really. 70 degrees maybe. 75 tops. Certainly not sweltering by any means. And, even if it was hot, I mean, really hot, like Africa hot, is that any reason to subject the rest of us to that? Think about it. While the human body may be a glorious thing in theory, it doesn’t quite pan out like that in reality. Some people need to keep their clothes on! Pregnant women shouldn’t wear bikinis, I think we can all agree on that. Richard Simmons shouldn’t wear short-shorts, yeah, that’s a given. And you, my hirsute, porcine exhibitionist, are right in there on the short list of those who shouldn’t go without torsal covering.
Let’s try an experiment. Take your shirt off. Look in a mirror. Turn around and examine yourself from all angles. It ain’t pretty. Do you have the right to go topless? Sure. But what about your responsibility? Despite the first amendment, it’s not kosher to go around yelling “fire” in a crowded movie house. Can we extrapolate and stretch the analogy? Of course. Maybe it’s not kosher for you, despite your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, to go around without a shirt and let your grizzled girth get gaped by all and sundry. Capiche?
So, cover up, Gut Boy. Parade around naked in the privacy of your own home for all I care. But when you are out and about in public, especially in locations where I will espy your elderly flabby hirsute self, PUT ON A DAMN SHIRT!