Stupid Whore Class is in session

"Our backs ache, our skirts are too tight, we shake our booties from left to right."

This is the controversial cheer that a Michigan cheerleader's mother objected to recently. This objection got her daughter kicked off the squad and straight onto the stage of Good Morning America.

The kicker: The former cheerleader is only 6 years old.

SIX YEARS OLD!

For whom do six-year-olds cheer? Six-year-old football players? The Catholic Priests Charity Football League?

Even more importantly, however, how does this cheer make any sense? Who wants to hear about people's problems? Their backs ache? Whose doesn't. Their skirts are too tight? Stop getting so fat!

Boring...

Or are these cheerleaders trying to say they are always on their back getting it from football players and their skirts are intentionally too tight because they're trying to show off the hot bodies they spend all day creating by not eating and ditching class to do bikram yoga and smoking cigarettes across the street?

Oh, wait, I just got it--these six-year-old girls are CHEAP SLUTS who really, really, really want their football-playing sex-partners to win the game against their other football-playing sex-partners who go to first-grade at a nearby rival primary school.

Or so their coach wants us to think, for some reason--probably because she thinks it's "cute."

Makes total sense...this is, after all, the monstrous nation that created Miley Cyrus.


Dessert:
Our disease has been exported to China!

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The Dark Side of Youtube

For every Scarlet Takes a Tumble and Fat Dad Falls Off Skateboard, there is always a video that makes you stop laughing uncontrollably at the misfortunes of others and reminds you of the frightening power of the Dark Side.

This is one of those videos:

(Thanks, Videogum!)

Shock and awe, folks. Shock and awe.

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Who Doesn't Love a Psychologically-Damaged, Overly-Vain Mystery Bride?

The end is nigh, folks, as this will be coming to your television screen before you can stop it:

The [E!] network is set to announce "Bridalplasty," where brides-to-be compete in wedding-themed challenges to win extensive surgical procedures.

Each week, a group of women competes head-to-head in such challenges as writing wedding vows and planning honeymoons. The winner receives the chance to choose a plastic surgery procedure from her "wish list." She's given the procedure immediately, and results are shown at the start of the following week's episode.

One by one, the women are voted out by their competitors and, according to the show's description, "possibly walking away with nothing and losing [their] chance to be the perfect bride."

The last bride standing will receive a "dream wedding," where she will reveal her new appearance to friends, family and the groom. "Viewers will witness his emotional and possibly shocked reaction as they stand at the altar and he lifts her veil to see her for the first time following her extreme plastic surgery," E! said.

(courtesy Hollywood Reporter)

Oh, my God! I can't wait for the bitchy cat fights as these women maneuver to have their foes eliminated one-by-one! And the daily sobbing as they talk about how their noses/chins/cheekbones/butts/breasts/un-rejuvenated vaginas have conspired to ruin their lives!

But mostly I can't wait to see the looks on those husbands' faces when they lift up the veil on their wedding day and realize they just married a perfect stranger who used to be a crazy person they loved for some reason!

It just doesn't get much better than that, if you are looking for one perfect moment that defines a new low in the Global Corporate Village known as the Western World. The ascent of Beck/Palin and the Double Down were just foreshocks and now we must brace ourselves for the mighty quake.

As far as aftershocks go, we also have these three turds to look forward to avoiding this fall:

The Defenders - Jim Belushi (!) and Jerry O'Connell (!)...together at last! Not since DeNiro and Pacino in Heat has America been this excited about an actor pairing. For those of you who are confused, Jim is John Belushi's less-talented brother and Jerry O'Connell is the kid who was in Stand By Me who is married to Rebecca Romijn. Two of the finest examples of the new American dream--failing upward.

Undercovers - The tired Mr. and Mrs. Smith dynamic all over again, but worse. The catchy twist: They're black this time!

Mike & Molly - Two fat people (read: relatable!) fall in love in Middle America while performing endearingly working-class jobs. From wikipedia: "The series, set in Chicago, follows two obese people, Mike Biggs [Get it! -Ed.], a police officer who wants to shed some pounds, and Molly Flynn, a fourth-grade teacher wanting to embrace her curves, who meet at an Overeaters anonymous group and become an unlikely pair. However, they also have to deal with the comments, jokes, and criticism from Mike's fast-talking partner Carl McMillan; Molly's slim sister Victoria and mother Joyce; and Samuel, a Senegalese waiter at the cops' favorite restaurant."

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United States v. Muslims: By the Numbers

(courtesy The Atlantic)

Just goes to show you that, despite our wealth and military muscle, we are but a moon orbiting the Muslim planet, and we should remember that as we spend trillions of dollars and end tens of thousands of lives chasing down the smallest enemy fighting force we have ever faced.

So take a step back, warmongers, hide your misspelled vitriol for a moment, and start taking up a collection to bribe your Congressional representatives to get us the hell out of Afghanistan, Michael Moore-style:

Let's dig a few thousand wells in Afghanistan, build a few free mosques, leave behind some food and clothing, fix their electrical grid, issue an apology and set up a Facebook page so they can stay in touch with us -- and then let's get the hell out. Your own National Security Advisor and your CIA Director have told you there are less than 100 al Qaeda fighters in the entire country. 100???                           (courtesy HuffPo)

As long as our unemployed serf brethren pony up more than Raytheon, Northrop Grumman, Halliburton, and Xe Services (nee Blackwater) combined, it should be easy enough to transform the United States into a slightly more sensible world power.

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AIDS = Hitler

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Lower-Class Twit of the Year Competition Results Are In

The votes are in, folks, and the twittiest of the lower-class twits from across this gorgeous globe have been identified and ranked in a highly scientific process know as a "boondoggle."

Here are the results to share with your friends:


Gold Medal -

That is one disturbed belly-button/cat

 Silver Medal -

This guy's girlfriend must never let him take his shirt off at pool parties.

Oh, wait--he's never had one.

 Bronze Medal (with special commendation for supreme idiocy) -

Jolene must be so proud of her little skinhead

Kids at home, please take note--this is what you either should or should not do, depending on how you want your life to turn out. Good luck figuring that shit out!

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I Can't Stop Laughing

At the first half of the video in this link.

Thanks, Videogum!

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Republican Party Nominates 3 Newcomers to Defuse Tea Party Insurgency

Tired of losing ground to the Tea Party in the battle for who is the most irrationally conservative, the Republicans have decided to drag three newcomers--longtime listeners, first-time callers--into the political ring to avoid having the rug pulled out from underneath them this November.

This guy = Not crazy enough

The candidates for the new ruling committee known as the First Triumvirate of Idiocy--which would yield supreme legislative power over all three branches of the popularly-elected puppet government--are known only as the Three Horsemen of the Corporatocracy (their real names/identities will never be known) and are shown below in a photo taken at the stark press conference announcing both their candidacy and inescapable victory:

Where did these handsome young chaps come from and how is their victory assured, you ask?

Well, they came from nowhere, probably some place really remote, never listened in school, have the craziest ideas you have ever heard, and couldn't run a 7-11 on their own, but that is exactly why they will be elected--THEY ARE SOMETHING NEW AND DIFFERENT.

Besides, it's inevitable, right? You might as well just email them your ATM pin and jump headfirst into the party of the people before they force you to at gunpoint.

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What a Stupid C*nt

She's laughing at you, Arizonans, because she thinks you'll vote for her no matter what she says (or doesn't say). Jan Doofus can ask all she wants, but let's hope she doesn't get any of your votes this fall, despite the fact that she has did done fixed everything.

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The Last Two Feet are the Hardest

Tales from the Front:

BAKERSFIELD, Calif. -- A doctor involved in an "on-again, off-again" relationship apparently tried to force her way into her boyfriend's home by sliding down the chimney, police said Tuesday. Her decomposing body was found there three days later.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

While she was trying to break in, the man she was pursuing escaped unnoticed from another exit "to avoid a confrontation," authorities said.

DeGeare said the two were in an "on-again, off-again" relationship.

The man's identity was not revealed by police, but the man who resides in the home is William Moodie, 58.

Moodie, who runs an engineering consulting firm, said Kotarac was a superb internist who often provided service and medication free of charge to her patients.

Kotarac apparently died in the chimney, but her body was not discovered until a house-sitter noticed a stench and fluids coming from the fireplace Saturday, according to a police statement. The house-sitter and her son investigated with a flashlight and found Kotarac dead, wedged about two feet above the top of the interior fireplace opening.

Firefighters spent five hours late Saturday dismantling the chimney and flue from outside the home to extract Kotarac's body, DeGeare said.

Officials said Kotarac's office staff reported her missing two days prior when she failed to show for work. Her car and belongings remained near the man's house.

A cause of death has not been determined, and an autopsy was scheduled or Tuesday. Foul play is not suspected, though investigators have been looking into the incident as suspicious.

(courtesy Huffington Post) 

Let me get this straight--a man hears his girlfriend trying to get into his house by crawling down the chimney, leaves for three days--in order "to avoid a confrontation," and hires a housesitter (over the phone?) who eventually smells something funny / sees stuff dripping into the fireplace?

What sort of person's first two choices for forced entry into a residence are a shovel and the chimney? Was this Moody guy holed up in some kind of impenetrable fortress? Were there not windows that could have been broken? I mean, the houses in Bakersfield were not exactly built to last...

And where did this guy go all of a sudden, anyway? Was he across town, in bed with some other broad, making this poor sap the laughing-stock of the community, as she breathes her last breath in his chimney--no doubt immediately post-vow to haunt him for eternity?

Probably.

Also, why does it matter that the woman was a doctor? If she were a garbagewoman [Do those even exist? Why are women not forced to represent 50% of the garbage collectors? -Ed], would this article have read "Garbagewoman Dies in Chimney Trying to Break into Boyfriend's Home?"

I think not. You see, we expect that kind of behavior from garbagewomen--when doctors do it, it's newsworthy. It sells papers.

"A doctor did it? Hmmm...well, there must be some kind of juicy story behind this...doctors are usually so put-together and never have to worry about money...oh, look, it says here she was a 'superb internist'..."

-Woman reading aloud to her cat while eating her third bowl of Kix

Meanwhile, the carcasses of her last twelve cats decompose in the nearby chimney, totally unnoticed by the world until Hoarders comes through and turns that ole garbagewoman's life right-side-up in thirty minutes of too-hot-for-TV, soul-crushing depression and feigned re-birth.

Don't miss it!

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Senator Palpatine Living in New Jersey

86-years-young Senator Frank Lautenberg (D-NJ), aka Darth Sidious

Sure, he may look bone-chillingly evil, but Senator Frank Lautenberg is actually pretty liberal.

He supports the gays, the women, the poor, the sick...WTF, right? Is the Dark Side in the throes of some generations-long, total-mind-fuck takeover scheme that will crush our spirit forever?

Probably. They've always been more cunning than the good guys...

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Rich Man Gets His Desserts

Reprinted from Time.com:

On Dec. 5, 1985, Christopher Forbes, vice chairman of Forbes magazine, shelled out $157,000 for a bottle of wine at a Christie's auction in London — still the largest sum on record ever paid for a single bottle. Its body handblown from deep green glass, sealed with a wad of dark wax and inscribed with "Th.J.," the 1787 Château Lafite was thought to come from a collection of wines belonging to Thomas Jefferson. "It's more fun than the opera glasses Lincoln was holding when he was shot," Forbes declared at the time. "And we have those too." Though Jefferson was born on the Virginia frontier, he served as the U.S.'s minister to France in the late 18th century and is regarded as America's first true oenophile. Regardless, the trove of wines the bottle came from, discovered in an old building in Paris, are now almost universally believed to have been fakes. Upon further investigation, it seems that the Founding Father's initials were etched into the bottles using a power tool.

Too bad that asshole didn't use Lincoln's opera glasses to discover he was about to drop $157,000 on a marginally-clever forgery, eh?

Although it probably doesn't matter in the end, since he has been squeezing at least that much money out of the middle class every day of his life and it probably still tasted really good when he opened for his prized pony's fourth birthday party.

The plot thickens:

Remember those two billionaire assholes who fund all the Tea Party bullshit? Well, their brother, Bill, was also taken in by the same scheme.

How thorough were Forbes and Koch, wealthy investors by birthright, at doing their due diligence?

When a cache of more than a dozen bottles engraved 'Th.J.' reportedly came to light in 1985, [German collector Hardy] Rodenstock said they had been found in a walled-up cellar in Paris, where Jefferson served as minister to France. Jefferson, who helped draft America's Declaration of Independence, became the country's third President.

The exact quantity of wine reportedly found, and the precise location of the cache, have never been established. Rodenstock told decanter.com that in 1985 he was told of the find, and flew to Paris to see the bottles, which he was told he must pay cash for. He will not say who called him, and says that he did not go to the actual house.

(courtesy decanter.com)

Sounds like everything checked out fine, there should definitely be no blame placed on the stupid greedy buyers who overpaid for a stupid trophy whose existence nobody could prove. I hope they get their day in court and spend even more money on lawyers.

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It is the end of August and I feel thirsty.

So, apparently, does the mewling alleycat outside my window, but unfortunately for me, my thirst is not so easily slaked.

No passing stranger of the opposite sex can solve my hydration problem, even if they wanted to, but here this greedy cat will take all comers and get as much as she wants.

Or maybe my perspective is wrong.

Maybe satisfaction looms in the distance, tantalizingly on her radar but frustratingly never within reach. Maybe she is a tormented soul whose thirst, like mine, is bottomless. Maybe we are two of a kind.

Much like the insatiable central characters in the 1976 Japanese arthouse porno, In the Realm of the Senses, which I watched this evening in (mostly) wide-eyed surprise.

Never in my life have I seen so much penis--and I own one.

Never in my life have I seen two people engage in so much public fornication, to such blase reaction. To say the sex is gratuitous misses the point, but still--it is exhausting to watch.

Here is what Mr. Criterion has to say about the movie, for all you bumpkins out there that ain't never heard of it:

SYNOPSIS: Still censored in its own country, In the Realm of the Senses (Ai no corrida), by Japanese director Nagisa Oshima, remains one of the most controversial films of all time. A graphic portrayal of insatiable sexual desire, Oshima’s film, set in 1936 and based on a true incident, depicts a man and a woman (Tatsuya Fuji and Eiko Matsuda) consumed by a transcendent, destructive love while living in an era of ever escalating imperialism and governmental control. Less a work of pornography than of politics, In the Realm of the Senses is a brave, taboo-breaking milestone.
SYNOPSIS: WARNING: THIS FILM IS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT

I wish I could agree with their pornography versus politics angle, but there was so little politics involved in this movie that I was bored stiff. Imagine saying that! I wanted more politics!

What exactly...were the politics? I saw some soldiers march past in one scene, but who knows what that's supposed to mean. What I do know is that the entire movie involves a former prostitute fellating, ravaging, and beating/strangling her master-cum-husband, whom she rapidly turns into her willing sex slave.

I'll put it this way--there is a good reason the narrator feels the need, at movie's end, to reveal the events took place in 1936, because any other movie that took place in Japan in 1936 and even hinted at politics would have found that designation superfluous.

Game, set, match. Verdict: Porno. Sorry Criterion--there was no need to salvage this one.

That being said, if you are in for an initially titillating movie that ultimately makes you never want to have sex again, this 'masterpiece' is for you. Enjoy!

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Oh, Chicago--Don't be so lonely!

I know Chicagoans have it rough, what with everybody either dismissing their city as windy/cold or, worse (?), just flying over them all the time, but has it really gotten this bad?

How bad? This bad:

(link to post)

What? Also, what?! This creepy dude wants "a female" to spend a long time describing--in an email--how her hand moves while she eats cereal? How on Earth would this be enjoyable for anybody who isn't certifiably insane? Is this a last cry for help before RickMoranisRulez spikes his own Tab? Or will he choose to go to work one day with a collector's-edition Rick Moranis mask and a pair of over-the-counter machine guns instead?

Chicago must be real lonely right now. If you know somebody in Chicago, please give them a hug so this craziness stops before it spreads to the entire Midwest and the Pervert Monster gets so big it ultimately destroys both dismissive coasts (who are never paying attention) with a careless flailing of a giant-sized arm--as painstakingly described by LonelyGirl69 in a soon-to-be-legendary email blast.

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What if Spiderman was a chiseled, 35 year-old man with pimples?

Who liked to use his powers to spy on women changing their clothes with the curtains open?

And sometimes had powers he couldn't control...

Especially at night!

Oh, James Cameron--you might have just redeemed yourself for Titanic and Avatar.

Might. I'll let you know for sure once I've had a few years to think about it...

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Man, I Hope This Kid Gets Raped in Prison

 (Steven Hirsch/AP)

Although he is being referred to as a man by all the news outlet--and he is certainly old enough for the designation, on a technical level--we all know Michael Enright is little more than a punk kid.

To clarify a bit further, he is an arrogant sissy-punk kid who should be put in a whole and never heard from again.

Who is Michael Enright, you ask?

Ask and ye shall receive (Goodtime 13:46):

James Zaleta, an assistant district attorney, said in court that Mr. Enright hailed a taxi near 24th Street and Second Avenue on Tuesday evening. Mr. Enright asked the taxi driver, who was from Bangladesh, whether he was Muslim, Mr. Zaleta said.
After the driver said he was, Mr. Enright responded with the Arabic greeting, “Assalamu alaikum,” according to the criminal court complaint.

Then Mr. Enright said, “Consider this a checkpoint,” before pulling out a Leatherman utility knife and slashing the taxi driver’s throat, Mr. Zaleta said. The driver turned and Mr. Enright slashed him in his face and forearms, Mr. Zaleta said.

(courtesy NYTimes.com)

Don't worry, Teabaggers--your hero already has some crafty big-city lawyer doing his best to get him free after billing as many hours as possible:

Jason A. Martin, Mr. Enright’s lawyer, said his client lived with his parents and was an honor student at the School of Visual Arts, where he is a senior.

Mr. Enright is a volunteer with Intersections International, a nonprofit that works to promote cross-cultural understanding and has spoken out in favor of the proposed Islamic cultural center near ground zero. Mr. Enright, who shuffled into court with a collared T-shirt, cargo shorts and shackles around his ankles, has also worked with veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder, Mr. Martin said.

“He’s terrified,” Mr. Martin said of his client. “He’s shocked at the allegations. He’s just trying to cope with it right now.”

(also courtesy NYTimes.com)

He's "shocked at the allegations?" He was caught immediately after leaving the cab--it's not like they were going on a description and picked up some random chubby white dude with orange hair who looks permanently scared.

But, more to the point, who the fuck cares that this little prick is an honor student who lives lived with his parents? Why is this a detail anybody needs to know? All we need to know is that he is now living in prison, where he belongs.

And here's to hoping he stays there for a long time and gets treated to a few serious invasions of privacy every day until he learns his lesson the hard way--DON'T FUCK WITH PEOPLE FOR NO REASON.


Dessert:
It's gotta suck to be this guy right now.

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Further Proof People Will Watch Anything If They Have No Good Choices

The Expendables takes the crown two weeks in a row, after FIVE new movies premiered this past weekend? And all it took was a $16.5 million haul in August?

Some shitty spoof of shitty vampire movies came out to no acclaim? A 3D remake of low-budget cult-hit Piranha? Bow-Wow wins the lottery? Some movie about Julia Roberts eating gelato in Italy while looking for herself/a man that middle-aged women don't even like?

What the fuck is going on? Is this the third horseman?

It gets worse: The Nanny McPhee sequel beat out America's Sweetheart(TM) Jennifer Aniston's The Switch. Ha-ha!

Will this undeniably laughable result finally decrease her shitty-romantic-comedy output to less than two per year in the coming decade (until she finally ODs on whatever it is that numbs her), or do I have to sew my eyeballs shut every time I risk encountering a billboard or commercial?

Speaking of Jennifer Aniston (nee Brangelina), I know there are plenty of men out there who would 'put one in her,' but aside from that, does anybody actually care for her at all? Anybody not on her payroll, I mean. Does she have fans? Who are they? Do they not realize how boring and whiny she is, or are they interested in her like somebody who goes down to the Y once a week is interested in some little kid without a dad?

By the way, not all movies made these days are shitty--the ones that are good are usually just really hard to find. For example, when will we finally get to see 2009's I Love You Phillip Morris?

Which 12 old white men running this country from the rec room at the C-Street House do I have to blow like a circus seal during some clandestine pagan ritual in order to get the religious-right minority to back down on this one? Would they even realize the irony in making me do that? How many of them will write me checks for my services because they don't know how to use an ATM?

I'd rather not have to accidentally blow any footsoldiers, so precision is appreciated here, my child; do whatever you need to in order to get me those names.

Love,
Your Mother

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Finally, a Pop Singer Takes Responsibility

The douchebag in the middle--Charles Haddon, lead singer of legendarily obscure British pop band Ou Est Le Swimming Pool, which just rolls off your tongue--climbed a telecommunications tower in Belgium yesterday and jumped to his death. Immediately following a performance at a music festival with a funny name, which, when translated, means "PimplePop."

What gives, right? After only three singles, OELSP's transgressions against humanity's ears/minds had already reached a tipping point?

I can only assume so, since only forty people have ever heard any of their music. And two of them are now dead.

Ou Est Le Swimming Pool's first album--Christ Died for Our Synths (how's that for agonizing guilt?)--is scheduled for an October release.

The real question, though, is whether or not Christ will finally forgive the band for their synths and move on, stop torturing all mortals by lording his own death over millions of guilt-ridden believers.

Something tells me that won't happen, but I'll keep my finger on the pulse for ya.

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Ann Coulter Equates College Students with al-Qaida

Al-Qaeda, al-Qaida, al-Qa'ida, Qaeda...call them what you will, Bushites--the bottom line is they are the enemy and they are potentially everywhere, including Texas and the other 58 states.

Who are they? Irrelevant. Towel-heads. Brown people. Taxpayers. Liberals. Nuke 'em. God will sort 'em out. Whatever.

Noted foot-in-mouther Sarah Palin must have been busy watching the wet nurse breastfeed Trig as she gagged/Twittered, because this little number was left up to fellow conservative darling Ann Coulter (Hmm...the most prominent conservatives are Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin because...they are the best?)

"They hired me to give a speech, so I'm giving a speech. I do it all the time," she said. "I speak to a lot of groups and do not endorse them. I speak at Harvard and I certainly don't endorse their views. I've spoken to Democratic groups and liberal Republican groups that loooove abortion. The main thing I do is speak on college campuses, which is about the equivalent of speaking at an al-Qaida conference. I'm sure I agree with GOProud more than I do with at least half of my college audiences. But in any event, giving a speech is not an endorsement of every position held by the people I'm speaking to."

(courtesy Huffington Post)

"The main thing I do is speak on college campuses, which is about the equivalent of speaking at an al-Qaida conference."

Who is this supposed to insult more, al-Qaida or college students? Is she really equating ALL college students with al-Qaida members? Why? Because they're getting educated and don't just take whatever you try to cram down their throats? Has she ever met an al-Qaida member? Why are we listening to this woman again? Who IS she?

Ann Coulter was born in New York City, to rich parents, went to Cornell, then to Michigan, then was a law clerk in Kansas City, before she was scooped up by a Republican party desperate for pretty faces and controversy. She writes awful books and delivers awful speeches to anybody with deep pockets.

Seeing that Ann Coulter went to not one but TWO colleges, she's pretty much Public Enemy #1, as that of course implies that she is one of al-Qaida's most sophisticated operatives. Although I am unsure of her motives in revealing this new shit to the world--is she a double agent? triple agent?--many thanks to Imam Coulter, for it is now easier than ever to spot terrorists.

They are the ones who read books and think critically--and their names and addresses can conveniently be found in the admissions department at any college in the country.

Get out your guns, people! Kill the nerds that hate your freedom!

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And a good day to you, sir!

Nicholas Cage (nee Coppola) shows off the top form that earned him his cherished Celebrity Merit Badge for Transvestic Fetishism.

Bravo, Nicoletta! Così sexy voglio avergli sesso con!

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Elves are the Tallest of All the Nature Spirits

I'm sure you all already knew that, but if you didn't, please write that down, along with a hundred other bits of info about elves (as seen in Lord of the Rings):



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Heidi Montag Knows Hyperbole

She may not know what the word means, but Heidi Montag should receive a Celebrity Merit Badge for Hyperbole.

First, her freaky, hyperbolically-curvy, wax-figurine body, courtesy of plastic surgeon Frank Ryan:

Second, the Team Heidi-approved Twitters after said plastic surgeon drove his Jeep off a cliff along the Pacific Coast Highway and died:

I am devastated to hear the news of Dr. Frank Ryan's death. He was the most amazing person I have ever known. He was an angel and changed my life and the lives of everyone he met. He was the most brilliant talented surgeon who will ever exist. Dr. Frank Ryan changed the world.

My thoughts and prayers go out to his mother, family, friends, and anyone who was ever blessed enough to meet him. He is in a better place.

(Courtesy Huffington Post)

"The most brilliant surgeon who will ever exist," who "changed the lives of everyone he met?"

Yeah, right. I believe that almost as much as I believe Heidi has the capacity to be "devastated" by anything, or that Dr. Moron "is in a better place"--he's in Hell, baby! Yeah!

Which, for the record, is much worse than being paid millions of dollars for totally unnecessary surgical procedures and then using the money to cavort around Southern California changing people's lives for the worse, all the while giggling and doing lines of silicone off the dashboard.

I have no evidence to support this claim, but something tells me Dr. Frank may have driven off a cliff because his latest 'perfect' monster (Two heads with six tongues, mounted on a giant breast!) was giving him head and it was so fantastic he just couldn't take it.

Or maybe that's just some hyperbole right there...who's to know?

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Death by Cuteness

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On:


MARCEL THE SHELL WITH SHOES ON from Dean Fleischer-Camp on Vimeo.

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The Michael Cera Problem

First there was Paper Heart, then Youth in Revolt (which, for the record, was disappointing mostly because there was no real romance going on), and now Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, so I think the citizens of moviedom finally have all the evidence we need to justly psychoanalyze the central figure in the imminent crisis known in the halls of power as the Michael Cera Problem, which, incidentally, is soon to be the Next Big Thing once the Looming Commercial Real Estate Crash has its way with us.

With that in mind, please enjoy the following fabulous entry to the research on this cutting-edge topic, from Stephanie Zacharek at Movieline:

I used to worry about Cera as an actor: He seemed like a talented kid in danger of being limited by his own acute boyishness. And I still think that maybe — maybe — smart filmmakers will figure out ways to bring out the best in him. But in Scott Pilgrim his wispy smile and quivery voice aren’t endearing; they’re an affront. In every frame, Scott appears to be begging us not just to love him (which would be bad enough), but to pity him.

I’m willing to suspend disbelief enough to believe that Cera’s capable of playing a character with a sex drive. In fact, Juno handled that aspect of his character astutely: We never saw him trying to get the girl; we simply knew that he had, and that fact alone suggested that maybe this sweet, gawky kid was really quite something in the sack. Sex is, after all, one of life’s great mysteries.

But Cera plays Scott Pilgrim as the kind of guy who thinks that getting an erection is an insult to a girl, damning evidence that he doesn’t just, as we used to say in the ’70s, “love her for her mind.” Men and women alike have plenty of sexual anxieties. But just as men — the good ones — will sometimes tell us women that we don’t need to be Victoria’s Secret models to be sexy, men should know that they don’t have to be Bruce Springsteen — or even, heaven forfend, Mick Jagger — for us to find them irresistible. But they do have to look as if they might possibly be interested in having sex, and that’s a bridge too far for Cera in Scott Pilgrim. So what if he passes the Herculean he-man test the story puts him through? He still has all the sexual charisma of an untied shoelace. And even a woman who likes the soft touch can’t do much with that.

(courtesy Movieline)

I couldn't have said it better myself--after all, without any degree of sex drive detectable by modern scientists, what is the point of getting the girl?

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Sunday is a Good Day for Regret

Anything you should have done differently? Is there still enough time to change every single thing about you?

You have the day off, probably, so why don't you just sit back, take stock of your life, order another couple martinis, and figure this shit out once and for all.

After all, there is still time. For most of you...

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"Perverts Wanna See New Girls," Thus Celebrity Pseudo-Innocence Must Be Lost on Camera

First of all, the steroids.
Second of all, the jewelry.
Third of all, Brian Pumper?



Fourth of all, how bored is that "first-time" "bitch," who may or may not "cream," who also happens to be Laurence Fishbourne's ugly and stupid 18-year-old daughter?
Fifth of all, how come she doesn't know how to become a bad-yet-working actor when even a Baldwin can do it?
Sixth of all, why does she equate a sex tape with a hardcore porn movie?
Seventh of all, why is Kim Kardashian her role model?
Eighth of all, how many pennies will it take to bang this lost soul senseless in six weeks?
Ninth of all, make sure you watch the whole (interview) video and none of the other (porn) video.
Tenth of all, vomit.

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Time for a Re-Post

Ladies and gentlemen, it is nigh. And when I say 'it,' I mean THE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY.

For those of you living in Bumblefuck eating sandwiches made from the cheese between your toes, this wedding is between Chelsea Clinton and some guy who is not important right now and never will be.

Who is he? Who cares. All I know is that I am full of woe because he is not the guy who offered 40 goats and 20 cows for her hand.

Now, for those of you not familiar with the current woman-to-animal exchange rates, let me tell you this--those terms are very favorable, especially in this difficult economic climate. Ma and Pa Clinton would be wise to reconsider this generous offer on the eve of their daughter's wedding to some nameless loser, unless of course that guy's parents are providing an even more lucrative dowry.

But we all know they aren't. Instead, a portion of Bill's speaking gigs and book royalties are providing a $3 million wedding for some toothy girl who has done nothing to deserve such luxury. She was in college before her parents ever had that much money and now they are dropping it on her wedding.

WTF, America? This is why we will wind up killing each other during the apocalypse.

Well, whatever--the important thing is that nobody on the East Coast can fly or drive for an entire weekend and some fourth-cousin will make millions of dollars selling poorly-composed photographs to the tabloids on Monday.

Sigh.

And now, for completists, a trip down memory lane.

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And Now For Some Catherine Deneuve

Perfect fodder for your afternoon reverie, ladies and gentlemen.

You're welcome.

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I Could Probably Watch This Forever

Totally setting back the cause of the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance by several weeks, according to official Goodtime Charlie statistical analysts.

Thanks, Dad...

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Pretty Sure I Made This Movie in High School

But it was nowhere near as funny and involved about 100% less Africans.

Turn your speakers down a bit and prepare to be thoroughly amused by Uganda's most fantasticalistic cinematic export ever:



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Everybody's a Critic

Pigeons are assholes, granted, but nonetheless I happen to love it when their taste aligns with mine:

The popular and Grammy award-winning band Kings of Leon were forced to end a concert in St. Louis last night after playing just three songs because a pigeon pooped into bassist Jared Followill's mouth.

(courtesy HuffPo)

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! That'll teach you to put your boring songs on the radio 500 times a day! Even the pigeons got tired of that shit...

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Snoop Dogg Hits a New Low

I don't know anything about poptart Katy Perry except that she is married to an unfunny comedian (Russell Brand), purchased her breasts, looks like a trashier version of Zooey Deschanel (which I didn't think was possible), and really likes the fact that she once kissed a girl.

After watching her latest video, however, which a friend recommended due to its supreme awfulness--it did not disappoint--I am mystified both as to why she is a success and, more importantly, why Snoop Dogg would want to be associated with her in such a public capacity.

Why? Well, because Snoop Dogg used to be cool. His wacky aesthetic, chronic misoginism, and stoner thuggery used to blend perfectly with his clever lyrics, Dr. Dre's beats, his ungainly frame, and the playfulness inherent in anything 'West Coast.'

But ever since he stopped smoking pot--or at least stopped owning up to it--his goofy style has suddenly become the worst thing about him and his every decision (save his generous support for PeeWee football in CA) has been atrociously uncool, if ultimately profitable for Snoop Dogg, Inc.

Every boy from Long Beach's dream come true

Nice murse, Cordozar Calvin Broadus...

This should have been a much tougher Photoshop job--because Snoop

should never have been that close to Martha Stewart in real life.

Even that little girl can't believe Snoop is on Ellen.

And the worst part is that I bet he danced with her. Shudder...

The long and the short of it is that Snoop can do what he wants, but he should realize that he's now an irrelevant, fame-addicted, greedy asshole in the same league as Josh Groban, Nicholas Cage, the Coldplay dude, Garth Brooks, and everybody else he and his buddies probably used to make fun of when they were younger and cooler.

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The Importance of Being Ernest

More proof that old men with beards have way more fun than you--photos from the Hemingway Lookalike Contest in Florida:

Not sure what the payout is, aside from a sexy little bust, but for my fans who may fit the bill, feel free to check out the official festival info here and gear up to participate in next year's lookalike contest--or the running of the bulls, marlin-fishing tournament ($25K top prize), arm-wrestling competition, or short-story competition.

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