The Death Of A Reference

As a performing saloon comic, one thing has been made very clear to me. References are funny. You need a couple of good references in your act. This guy’s got more skeletons in his closet than John Wayne Gacy. That girl is as well informed as a Jessica Simpson with a concussion. Mickey Rourke is as fashion conscience as a homeless guy on laundry day. See . . . you need a reference in order to justify how much better you are than the rest of the morons in this world. It feels, for lack of a better word, greedy, and that’s good. That’s right my friends, a badass reference to the “Street”! And speaking of movies, have you seen the new Will Ferrell movie? This guy’s made more bombs than a Muslim extremist during a double Jihad! (That’s a Pauley Shore reboot.)
Lately, I’m sad to say I’ve noticed a very disturbing trend among our treasured and often referred to American idols . . . death. These people are disappearing faster than doughnuts at Kirstie Alley’s house. Our references are dying off faster than a Joss Whedon TV series. Ed McMahon, Bea Arthur, Farrah Fawcett-Majors-O’Neal, the Oxyclean guy, and most recently one Mr. Michael Jackson (Wacko Jacko if you’re British . . . Wacko Warner if you smoke weed). It just isn’t fair. I mean, I feel so . . . what chu talkin’ ‘bout Willis . . . you know?
Michael Jackson was a great dancer who was too often referred to as a genius for my liking. Edwin Hubble was a genius. Carl Sagan was a genius. Steven Hawking is a genius. Granted, none of these guys could probably dance (especially Hawking) or molest children, and fortunately for us, they didn’t. Who’s bad?
Bea Arthur was always kind of anomaly to me. She made appearances on TV’s “All in the Family”. And then went on to star in her own series, based on the same character. The show was horribly unfunny and got cancelled. The ratings were lower than Madonna’s panties in the New York Nicks locker room. Where most people would disappear into the woodwork after such a failure (or in my case after a shitty Madonna joke) Bea Arthur lived in infamy in the “routines” of comedians all across the country. Mostly about something or someone having huge balls.
Take heed funny people, the world needs new references. And the spectrum of references for comedic purposes as you can see, is broad. Challenge your audience! The more obscure the reference the better. As non-existent as Charlton Heston’s toupee’ stylist. As bored as Michael Collins during a moonwalk. As busy as Charley Hodge on a two show night. And don’t get me started on Dolpf Whitlam’s birthday! Don’t be afraid to be as imaginative as Martha Stewart after three bong hits. But, never close on a weed reference . . . that’s my thing.

Blogwarts

Well it’s summer again in Texas. That means two things: Godforgotten heat and a host of summer blockbuster movies.
A friend of mine asked me if I go to movies very often. I replied,”Not unless the word Harry or Potter is in the title.” I wasn’t joking. I will be soon, however. The Harry Potter franchise is a gold mine and justifiably so. With their blank check mentality of hiring the best actors in England and the cool plot lines, as far as I’m concerned, these films epitomize the summer movie experience. Unfortunately, the rest of the films are complete horseshit (including, but not limited to Adam Sandler’s new movie, “Complete Horseshit.”)
I boldly went to see the new Star Trek film and enjoyed it very much. I went with my gay friend Billiam. He enjoyed the movie even though he wasn’t a fan of the original series. I enjoyed his company even though I’m not a fan of cock.
Before our movie started my friend Billiam leaned over to me and asked me if I’d seen Will Ferrel’s new movie. I replied, “has it been a week already!” Yes, Wil Ferrel is back in another alleged comedy entitled “Land of the Lost”. This time he goes back in time a million years ago. Back to a place and time when he was funny. To me, a Wil Ferrel movie is like eye contact with a homeless guy, I avoid it at all cost. By the way Mr. Ferrel, the land of lost is where you can find you soul if you’re interested . . . I didn’t think so.
A sequel transformer movie, a sequel museum movie and a prequel Dan Brown novel/ movie all in one summer. Somebody wake me up before I wet the bed. I’m kidding; I haven’t done that since my girlfriend moved out.
I won’t go see a Transformer’s movie for the same reason I didn’t own any transformers toys as a child, they’re for fags.
“A Night at the Museum”, was about as engaging as . . . well . . . a night at the museum. The sequel to this movie reminds me of a message on Twitter . . . 140 unnecessary characters.
“Angels and Demons”, is being called a sequel. It is in fact more of a prequel to the DaVinci Code and a great book. On the Mr. Brightside I, like most of you, am anxiously awaiting the new Dan Brown novel . . . “God Hate”. And you know if Tom Hanks isn’t in that movie, there is no God.
That brings me back to where this blog started, Harry Potter. I really can’t wait to see “Half Blood Prince”. I’m going to see it in IMAX format, and you should too. Quite frankly as far as I know the only other place you can see Hermione Granger’s breasts cover an entire wall, is in my bedroom. Don’t judge.

'08 Thou Art

I’m pretty sure if Nostradamus had foreseen 2008, he would have put away his quill pen, quietly screwed the top back on his inkbottle, blown out the candle, and quit the prophecy business. Somewhere in between Tina Fey’s impersonation of Sarah Palin and the “I Kissed A Girl” video, the members of the band Rage Against The Machine were all quoted as saying,”Okay, okay, I’ll do what you tell me!”

Barack Obama became the first African-American-president-elect. I hope he lives up to all the hype and all the hyphens. Who could have predicted that democracy and Britney Spears would make a comeback in the same year? The Bush administration made “Seven Years in Tibet” seem better than the last eight years in America. You have no idea how much it pains me to make that comparison. The Chinese government encourages their pandas to fuck and their people not to. Thanks W.
O.J. Simpson went to jail . . . finally! Attention other prison inmates who plan to rape him in he shower! He’s an ex-football player. If he sees a hole, he’ll run for daylight. You should run a 4-3 and blitz your corners tight and on the inside.
Speaking of gay marriage, Ellen DeGeneres married Portia de Rossi!
Jimmy must have cracked corn, because I don’t care. I could give a De Rat’s Ass! I heard that all of their friends pitched in and bought them a blender so that they could put the Constitution in it and set it to puree.
Which reminds me, this morning I tried to flush my toilet and I noticed it was clogged. Upon further investigation, I found the U.S. economy in it. What the hell?! The economy is so bad Mexicans are sending money TO America! I’ve seen conjoined twins less confused about which direction to go in! The best advice I’ve heard lately: If you want a plan for your future, you should read "The Grapes of Wrath”.
I would be remiss if I didn’t make one attempt to point out some of the good things that happened in’08 . . . Michael Phelps. All right . . . that was fun wasn’t it? And now . . . back to the bullshit!
The popular singing group known simply as Jonas Brothers sold out more concerts than any other act in America this year. Honey, I Shrunk Metallica! They caught everyone’s attention as the opening act for Hannah Montana. If anybody knows how to get a terminator to come here from the future and kill Billy Ray Cyrus, now would be the perfect time.
Speaking of natural disasters, in 2008 there were more hurricanes than there were cyclones and earthquakes. Which is good if you’re a higher deity like say . . . God . . . or whatever, but bad if you’re one of his fragile children. I don’t know if it’s the end of the world or not, it is unfortunately, starting to feel a little like a full dress rehearsal.
Industry shut down was the name of the game this year. The housing, auto, and banking industries needed a bale out from the Bush
Administration. Well now, that sounds like a bunch of rats asking the Pied Piper of Hamelin for a piece of cheese!
How bad was your two term presidency when just as you think you’re rounding the last turn and heading for home, some crazy Iraqi chunks his shoes at you? Two days later, a big, black guy came to the White House and took away all of his Miller beer. “You don’t deserve the high life ’cause you a low life!” he said as he drove off in the beer truck. Talk about adding insult to drinkability!
What is this ex-president to do now that he’s out of office? Here’s an idea. Rent an ice cream truck with a good PA system and drive up and down every city in America and apologize to everybody whose life you fucked up. Even though it will still probably sound like circus music, it would at least be something. And something is better than nothing. Or at least it used to be eight years ago.

The Truth About Cats And Blogs

Every year the film industry whines about all they money lost due to movie piracy. I would love to be able to see their side in this matter, but I can’t. (I made this realization during “Pirates of the Caribbean III”) How can you complain about lost revenue and crank out movies about high school musicals? (Talk about buggery on the high C’s)
Dow Chemicals has less toxic waste spewing out of their drainpipes. You are not allowed to make films starring Paris Hilton and then bitch about low ticket sales. Paris Hilton has starred in two films. In one she proves that she sucks at acting. In the other she proves that she can act at sucking.
I’m not saying that there haven’t been some great films that have come out of Hollywood. To which their effect on me has often times been astonishingly profound. The first time I saw “The Godfather”, I wanted to go right out and join the Mafia. Unfortunately, I had the same feeling during the closing credits of “The Bench Warmers”.
Therein lies the problem.
The industry can make a good film when the goal is to make a good film. When the goal is to make money, you get Robin Williams dressed up like one of the Golden Girls.
Six months later, a three blu-ray disc straight to video collector’s edition of “Mrs. Doubtfire and Media’s Family Reunion at Big Mamma’s House ”.
Which brings me to the point. The film industry should be thankful that anybody would spend their time downloading bullshit movies like “Beowulf”. Illegally or otherwise! A very simple law could be enacted to punish these evil doers:
Oh hear yea; oh hear yea all, whomsoever caught spending twelve hours of their lives illegally downloading copies of the unedited version of “American Pie 7: Naked College Party Super Brawl Weekend”, shall hereby be forced to watch “American Pie 7: Naked College Party Super Brawl Weekend”.
That would certainly dissuade me.
People disagree with me all the time about my taste in movies, and that’s fine. I, for one, was not a fan of Ron Howard’s film,”Evening at the Apollo 12: Norbit in Orbit”. Frankly, I found the script devoid of historical fact. I do however, remember that classic line from the film . . .” Houston, we in some shit!” And, for what it’s worth, Jamie Kennedy was quite funny.
What makes a film good or bad is a lot like a family reunion. It’s all relative. I have a simple see or don’t see movie litmus test. If the title of the film is on a collector’s cup at Wendy’s . . . no good. If Papa John’s can somehow work the title into a two-liter Pepsi and large pizza combo deal . . . waste of time. If the next ticket to movie you buy stars Larry the Cable Guy . . . you might be a redneck.
The bottom line here is that Hollywood seems to love garbage as much the homeless do.
Put the focus on quality and not just high definition blu ray disc with an alternate ending quality, and maybe people will buy movies tickets
Fin.

Random Facts Of Violence

Often Times I hear people confuse the word coincidence with the word ironic. Here is a simple way to sort these two words out. The fact that Judd Apatow’s entire filmography consists of only one script with different titles is a coincidence. The fact that Dane Cook hasn’t starred in any of these films is ironic.

I’ve recently discovered that I like sleeping on my stomach. Due largely I’m sure, to the fact that I’m not in prison.

According to Clay Aiken, he is indeed quite gay. According to me, he must have been the last one to know.

Q: What do 911, Hurricane Katrina, and Nazi Germany all have in common?
A: They all have a higher approval rating that George W. Bush.

The scientists who built the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland have decided to in fact, refocus their efforts. Rather than waste time smashing atoms together at light speed in a needless attempt to discover the origin of the universe, they have decided instead to put Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana at opposite ends of their particle accelerator. The collision of those two forces simultaneously should create a doorway that leads straight to hell or at the very least a wormhole to the Jonas Brothers’ tour bus.

And speaking of big bangs, does anyone remember when fantasy football was all about rich African American players getting to bang hot white chicks?

In the new television series, “My Own Worst Enemy”, Christian Slater plays a super spy with an alter ego . . . Jack Nicholson. Sadly that statement could be made about any of Christian Slater’s previous roles.

The reporter that broke the story about the tainted milk scandal in China has issued a formal apology. In the story he reported that the tainted milk was, “ killing Chinese babies left and right”. Completely overlooking the fact that Chinese goes from right to left. Oops.

An in-depth probe into the failing housing loans in America revealed that it was due largely in part to the free calendars and ballpoint pens. The study, which excluded Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, did however, include Fanny Pack. As these were also given out as free enticements.

And finally, a recent medical study found no connection at all between breast cancer and the intake of caffeine. So, as far as we know, the best link to breast cancer is still God. Hey Jesus, why the long faith?

50 Year Old Man In The Mirror

One of the first real jobs I ever had was bar backing at a little bar called Minx. It was a popular spot for drinkers and carousers. It was the eighties and nobody gave a shit.
The drinks would flow, the Human League was blasting over the speakers, and cocaine was considered one of the four food groups. Needless to say, sometimes things got a little out of hand. I mean, it’s not as if people were doing lines of cocaine off of the tables or anything. Okay, once in a while an occasional person would do an occasional line of cocaine off of one of tables and then go back to work behind the bar . . . occasionally.
One night, we were all gathered around a television watching a tribute to Mowtown Records on CBS. Michael Jackson was scheduled to appear. I was always a fan of the Jackson Five and still am, but never really into Michael Jackson as a solo act.
People used to like to talk to each other back then. This was long before texting. Add loud voices to loud music and a bar can become a very loud place. But, when Michael Jackson took that stage and the opening bars of Billie Jean kicked in, save for the volume on the TV set, the place went completely silent. All eyes were transfixed on Jackson. He busted out the “moonwalk” and everyone in the place went crazy. Grown men wept. Women screamed. Children were born. Neil Armstrong actually walked on the fucking moon and this was somehow ten times cooler! One small step for man . . . one giant leap to boogie! Watch her get down watch her get down!
All of America witnessed a moment in entertainment history. And they knew it. That was all anybody talked about for weeks. I have to admit that even I was moved by his performance. It was truly unbelievable. The Prince of Pop was born.
Then came the litany of crazy shit. Pretend marriages, buying giraffes, those thirty-three rhinoplastys and last but not least, allegations of sexually abusing children. I don’t care how well you can dance, when a grown man is in a bed with a little boy . . . the whole world has to answer right now just to tell you once again . . . who’s bad?
When I read that Michael Jackson had turned fifty years old, I could hardly believe it. It was one of those “what the fuck did that just say” moments. It was like finding out that Peter Pan has lupus! Did you hear about Ronald McDonald? He’s got McParkinson’s! Somebody left the back gate open again. The good news is Scooby Doo is fine . . . the bad news is Scrappy Doo got hit by a car!
Whether you believe he is crazy or not, you cannot deny that his career has suffered as a result of his indiscretions with minors. And that’s fine with me. For those who are interested, Michael Jackson is available for children’s parties. Unfortunately he’s more readily available to party with children.

All You Can Cheat Lunch Special

In the film Magnum Force, Inspector Harry Callahan proclaims, "A man’s got to know his limitations." I like to think that I know mine but when in doubt, I listen to the guy holding the gun. The Chinese government not only know their limitations (boundless apparently) but they also know ours.
The 2008 Olympics were held in China this time around. I’m not sure why. I guess they just wanted to hold the gun for a while. Their aim was to feature themselves in a positive light and show the world how different they are from North Korea. I’ll believe that the day they find Bigfoot!
China is an anomaly to me. The country is, and always has been, run by psychos. Yet, it’s people, the ones I’ve met at least, are wonderful. Mind you, as wonderful as you can be from the other side of the sneeze shield at the Hunan Garden buffet table. I’m kidding! I kid . . China, ca’mon!
The Chinese are honest for the most part. The Great Wall of China, is indeed, a great wall. No bullshit. It’s the greatest wall in the world. When you order fried wanton at a Chinese restaurant, they take wanton and they fry it. They’re not fucking around. I have nary a clue as to what wanton is, but they’re not liars! And they’re trustworthy. That ancient Chinese laundry secret has for all intents and purposes, remained a secret. In my lifetime anyway. Okay, I’m pretty sure it’s Biz detergent, but you didn’t get that from me.
Why then China, would you cheat in the Olympics? Why? Those little gymnast girls weren’t sixteen years old! We had their photos examined closely by our nation’s top pedophiles and they all concurred that there is no way those girls were over nine or ten years old. By the way, the photos won’t be returned. It’s in everybody’s best interest.
Those little gymnast girls in China have it rough right from the start. They’re separated from their families at an early age, some as young as three years old. They are then forcefully threatened to enjoy gymnastics. The parents I mean, the kids love it! Early in our ill-fated relationship, my ex-girlfriend used to make me "enjoy" Will and Grace so, I can certainly relate.
While we’re on the subject, the children of Tibet have it pretty rough as well. They’re separated from their dying families at an early age by the Chinese government and forcefully threatened to enjoy dying. Given the choice of the two, gymnastics must look like a free Bruce Lee film festival to those Tibetan kids. And now that we’re on the subject of free . . . FREE TIBET! Ca’mon!
I’m not trying to say that America is better than China (It sounds like I’m coughing right now but I’m actually saying, "even though we are"), or should I say the People’s Republic of Cheating! Two things do however, leap to mind. We eventually learned our lesson about ethnic cleansing and we don’t cheat at the Olympics.
Oh sure, some of the track and field team dopes up . . . youthful exuberance, nothing more. Plus, they always get caught anyway . . . so . . . that doesn’t count. None of the weight lifters count either. And by that, I mean that they don’t add or subtract and absolutely refuse to multiply and divide.
Technically we don’t cheat in the actual events . . . most of the events . . . okay, most of the internationally televised events. I say that with some degree of confidence knowing two things, all of the drug test results haven’t come back yet and the Mafia hasn’t figured out a way to "fix" the games. Until then . . . how dare you China!