Quickies - Because You Love Them
Notes In Irony Part 1: The ACLU, defenders of free speech everywhere, don't actually believe in the First Amendment if it means it will hurt their fundraising.
Aging bleached skull Madonna is the new 'face' of H&M: I didn't even know what that was until I looked it up. Turns out they are a Scandinavian clothing company. Well, hey, scientists can rep pretentious European companies too, so I have offered to be the face of H&K:
You want to be a rocket scientist too? Start designing your own Titan V here.
Notes In Irony Part 2: Former VP Al Gore has a movie out warning us on the perils of global warming. I did some quick math and with the amount of fuel he has used flying all over the world telling us we should ride bicycles, I could have driven my car for the next 16,314 years.
What Do You Think Happened when they had to tell The Emperor someone blew up the Death Star? Now you know.
Notes In Irony Part 3: It takes a gallon of oil to make three fake fur coats and it takes less energy to import a tomato from Spain than to grow one in England.
Ancient Female Remains Were Found In Rome: No, they did not include the Head of Medusa, because Teri Hatcher is still wearing it on her neck.
Notes In Irony Part 4: Former VP Al Gore unveiled his new movie on global warming at the Cannes Film Festival - and used a fleet of limousines to travel the 500 yards between his hotel and the theater where they were showing it. Seriously - can we at least consider that this global warming thing is overrated? Our ancestors survived the last Ice Age with nothing but a few furs and some fire pits. Why is Al so worried now? It's almost like he doesn't believe in Evolution.
The Second Coming Is Here
And no, I am not just some crazy guy standing on the street corner saying it. I know it must be true because Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie had a baby and they have decided it must be so.
This young girl ( a girl for a Messiah - how progressive ) is named Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt. Now, I have read the Old Testament. Still, I felt I needed to look it up just the same because a man of advancing years can't rely on great physique, good lucks and charm forever. Sometimes he needs facts and the only place to go for facts on the Old Testament is the Jews, since they wrote it. Sure as I am sitting here Shiloh still means Messiah. And Nouvel means new, at least if you make up your own spellings the way celebrities can.
So there you have it; New Messiah Jolie Pitt. Sleep easy, people. The genetically perfect creation of Pitt and Jolie was already going to have a God complex. Now she has a reason. She actually is God. I hope she likes science. Sorry about that global warming thing.
Still my favorite quote on this subject: "Remember how Scrooge McDuck used to sit on huge piles of money and laugh? That's this kid, except instead of money, it's genes."
Women We Love
Marit Larsen. Yeah, she's 23, but "Only a Fool" isn't even a single off her album and it is just about as perfect as you can get. And she writes her own songs. Plus, she's Norwegian and they mature faster so she is exempt from the age 30 requirement. She always sounds cheery and heartbroken at the same time - and I do love me some reclamation projects.
Buy this kid's music,because I expect a certain lifestyle if I am going to be a kept man and so she needs to make more money.
Sample "Only A Fool" here.
Hasbro Takes A Stand For Female Empowerment
If by female empowerment you mean dressing like a tramp and doing what you can to be objectified by men, then the Pussycat Dolls are the perfect role model for your 6-year old. And Hasbro agreed and had those dolls ready to ship with a marketing blitz to youngsters on the way until a letter writing campaign by Brooklyn mom Lisa Flythe caused them to cancel the product line. Shame too. I was looking forward to a whole generation of these Pussycat-Doll-educated girls coming of age in 2018.
Thanks for nothing, soccer moms. Next you'll be expecting your daughters to make it in this world based on their intellects.
Maybe I Was Wrong
Just because I have a Nobel Prize in Awesome doesn't mean I can't admit when I have made a mistake. What mistake could I possibly have made, you wonder?
I will tell you; Nick Lachey. Now, longtime readers of my blog know two things that I know I know; First, and foremost, is that you never cut a b***h too loose - but that is relationship advice for another day. Second, and almost equally important, is that Nick Lachey is an idiot. Let's face it, Jessica Simpson is hot, she's rich, she sings, and she pretty much saved herself for him. And, in return for all that, he spent a lot of time crying and being sensitive and the only kinky thing he could find to do with this girl was wear her shoes.
Okay, so I have changed my mind about the second of those two things. I now do respect Nick Lachey. I didn't have much interest in them as a couple but that's mostly because I thought Nick and Jessica’s Christmas Special was the longest Old Navy commercial EVER - and I hate even short Old Navy commercials. I mistakenly thought he was the weak link. But look at his life since he got dumped. He is going to get half of her money and he has parleyed his heartbreak into fending off wave after wave of hot chicks trying to make him feel better. This kid's life is friggin' CandyLand, only with hot chicks instead of candy.
So, to help me keep track of all his chicks, I have invented Nick Lachey's CandyLand. More after this incredibly large, yet completely essential, graphic.
Okay, so maybe being sensitive is the way to go here. Hey, I am sensitive too, people. I have cried - twice. Once, at the end of Ole Yeller when he dies, and once when my chick yelled at me for sleeping with her sister. But I eventually forgave her for yelling at me. So I am sensitive and I can let go of the hurt.
Albinos Versus Sexy Skeleton Zombies
Part 1: The Albinos
Albinos are pissed about being portrayed as creepy criminals ... again. This time in The Da Vinci Code.
Why does this happen every time we get a new villain? Terrorists have to be creepy Europeans now because it's not Politcally Correct to use Muslims. Yeah, we all know there are lots of Prussian Christian Fundamentalists blowing up stuff. You think Back To The Future would have been as funny if we had Germans yelling "Nach einem Bier, kannst Du in mein Mund pissen?" *
No, we needed Muslims in a VW Microbus yelling "Allah Akbar" and watching midget porn, or whatever they were doing in the back of that thing. Libyans. With Russian RPGs in hand. Trying to steal plutonium. Now that, my friends, was movie accuracy - especially that part about a time-travelling DeLorean.
But pesky albinos are upset that, in The Da Vinci Code, one of their kind is portrayed as the bad guy. They think it demeans their condition. Let me tell you, there are only a few groups in America that it's still okay to demean and I don't think albinos are among them. For the record the groups it is still okay to make fun of without lawsuits are; white men, skinny chicks, southern men and Catholics. If albinos want to be added in to this illustrious company, they have to earn it. So I did some quick research and could only find a few recent examples of where albinos were the creepy bad guys:
The Da Vinci Code, 2006
Cold Mountain, 2003
The Matrix Reloaded, 2003
The Time Machine, 2002
Okay, that's more than a few, especially considering a bunch more I never watched, but maybe that's just a recent fad. So I looked back to the 1970s ...
The Eiger Sanction, 1975
The Life And Times of Judge Roy Bean, 1972
The Omega Man, 1971
and a bunch more that I never watched. After that I stopped counting. Maybe they have a point. Still, in the course of all movies being made there has to be something different about the villain once in a while, so everyone should get tagged here and there. You don't see me complaining because lots of movie villains are white men. Besides, without albinos we wouldn't have had that Simpsons Halloween Special where Homer thinks Johnny and Edgar Winter are radioactive mutants and runs over them shouting, "Die, chalk-faced scum!" And you don't think those guys were in on the joke? You think they picked the last name 'Winter' by coincidence? And that song, "Frankenstein"??? Sheesh. At least people knew how to laugh at themselves in the '70s.
It isn't all bad for albinos. There are positive examples too. Oh wait, only one, and it is sort of a toss-up. Elric of Melniboné. I always thought Elric was kinda lame but I guess he was cool for the 1960s. But then so was Leonard Nimoy singing "The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins."
I think albinos need to shut their pale-faced pie holes and be happy they get any attention at all. If we didn't have albinos and skinny chicks then only southern men, white men and Catholics would be left to ridicule ... which means, me and about five other guys in America would take all of the smack.
Part 2: The Sexy Skeleton Zombies
Some guy named DJ A.M. ( seriously ) broke up with Nicole Richie because she's too thin. That's right, because she is too skinny. This girl's dad was a real musician and yet she dated this assclown who does nothing but queue up CDs - so, to me, a real charity case in the best of circumstances - and he dumped her. For being too thin. This baffles me. It's like telling a girl, "I have to break up with you because the sex is too good" or "You make pie crusts too well. See ya."
She is finally getting to look the way all women should look; like a sexy zombie skeleton. Or Rebecca Romijin, who made it back onto the dating list because she
likes it a little kinky. She used to look like this, but don't get too excited. There are plenty of convenient edits in X-Men 3 to hide the fact that she's no Nicole Richie these days:
She says she likes to be a dominatrix. How cute. I'd put up with that for about five seconds before I made her my toilet monkey.
Still, this blog is about who would win in a battle royale among two of the five most hated groups in America, skinny chicks or albinos. As a physics guru, I do a lot on computers so I wrote a simulator while watching Jackie Chan's New Police Story last night and the results ( click on it to see it full size) are here:
Looks like the albino bad guys are better after all - so they have that going for them. And if it happens to be a really white male who wins overall, so much the better for my gender. We have to do something to keep that glass ceiling in place.
* Okay, do not actually say that in Germany.
Jobs I Would Like To Have
Being a scientist isn't all balloons and ponies. Sometimes, when I have my feet up on the desk and I am thinking about why someone's interconnect caused their multi-million dollar tapeout to fail, or when Kate Beckinsale is trying to seduce me in a foreign country, I have thought about taking a different path in life.
So here are some jobs I might like to have next time around:
* Former President - write a book on public service, get paid $5 million to do it. Apparently Mr. Clinton didn't see the irony in that.
* Philadelphia Paramedic - because I want to go on calls like where this guy's bi-polar wife yanked his penis off while he slept. And I am way cooler than Randolph Mantooth.
* Teenage Boy - so Pamela Rogers will seduce me and I can take advantage of the fact that studies show teenage girls are twice as likely to have sex as teenage boys - why is that important? Math shows us that in order for girls to have sex twice as often as boys, some boys are having sex with four girls. And that's the kind of high school I could tolerate. Oh, and the study also shows girls are more likely to drink, smoke, steal and take drugs. So boys get the better end of that deal too. Plus, we get to have sex with girls, which is pretty much the cherry on top of the Sundae of Awesomeness that being a boy is.
* Guy Who Designs Armored Suits For Soldiers - because this body armor is the best practical joke ever:
* The Prince of Denmark - because only he could talk about his preference for eating fried dogs and not get ridiculed. The Danes don't have much to be proud of ... let's face it, when you have been kicked around by Sweden for the last 400 years, you don't walk with a lot of dignity ... so any Dane in the news is good publicity. Even if it's for eating Snoopy. How will you know if that joke-cracking Dane is serving you dog? I bet it will be because the animal on the platter will have a tennis ball in its mouth instead of an apple.
* Tatyana Simanava's Boyfriend - she's now back in modeling action after stepping off her tour bus while it was going 40 MPH and going kaboom into traffic. I assume someone already made the joke about asking if she looked both ways before she went out the hospital door. She has said she is going to sue the bus so that demonstrates she is just the kind of illiterate sock monkey who will put up with my crap. And she looks like this:
Further Proof That Superman Is Not Cool Like Me
Speaking of Florida, Pamela Anderson and PETA want you to celebrate National Orgasm Day by eating ... vegetables. Now, there are much funnier jokes I can make than the one PETA just pulled, but I will be far too busy. If you could just have Rocio Guario Diaz line up on the right and the other supermodels on the left, I will be finished celebrating National Orgasm Day by mid-June. Because that's when the World Cup starts.
Teri Hatcher Outs Ryan Seacrest
I am sure there are vast tracts of America where being gay is still controversial, but I live in California. Want to be controversial here? Be a Republican. So Teri Hatcher making an allusion to the notion that the host of American Idol is gay isn't a surprise to me, much less a big deal. Why not a surprise? Dude buys his shirts from Baby Gap, that's why:
Seriously, I have never seen a heterosexual man wear such tight shirts. Even me. And we all know what an attention whore I am.
So Hatcher appeared on whatever show David Letterman hosts and, earlier, Dave had on some gag gifts to throw to moms for Mother's Day. One of those was a diamond-encrusted "I'm Gay" thingie as a gift idea. I know. Ha ha. That Letterman's still got it.
Letterman inquired about the 'break-up' with Seacrest. Teri has discussed this over and over and she has said the relationship pretty much consisted of one date and then he called her and said they couldn't see each other any more. But to Letterman she responded;
"I didn't think he was my type."
Letterman asked, "Whose type do you think he is?"
Hatcher answered, "I think there was a Mother's Day gift that he should buy," obviously referencing the "I'm Gay" whatzit.
What I don't understand is how he was able to escape her gaze at all, much less break up with her. Most men are turned to stone when they look in her eyes, because she is clearly wearing the Head of Medusa on her neck:
So I am looking at Sweety's copy of Entertainment Weekly. It has that Superman guy on the cover and he looks very pretty and airbrushed. I have been against this thing from day one because it isn't easy to find a good Superman and they picked this guy for the wrong reasons; namely, how his crotch looks. Most comic book fans are men ... and most men are heterosexual ... so, like the disaster that was George Clooney in Batman, making him gay will not appeal much to the fan base. It will just give me something to joke about for ten years.
"I am not sure this gay Superman thing is going to sell," I mutter.
"Is he gay?" she asks.
"Well, ... "
She stops me. "I am looking for facts here, not 'Oh, they didn't pick me to be Superman so this guy must be gay.' "
Grrrr. I hate that kind of argument. Like I know any facts.
Guest Blogging; The Real Scoop
|Cash is unavailable today because the Giants have a day game and he insists Barry Bonds can't tie Babe Ruth for number two on the all-time HR list if he doesn't go. And he never blogs unless he should be working so writing something tonight is not an option. You know what that means? Right, you get his brother blogging in his place. He may be smarter but I am funnier. And prettier. And bigger. Not that I'm keeping track.|
Oh, and he won't know about any of this until he gets back. It's good to have his password. There aren't many secrets between each other when you are born on the same day.
Speaking of secrets, someone figure this one out. How in the world does a geek like him become the key blogging voice for real newspapers to use for opinions on an article about rampant sex among teens in high schools? The girls in those videos he buys aren't really high school girls, they just pretend to be. Yet there he is, being endorsed by The Washington Post:
Of course, it is good to be in high school these days. According to an article he emailed me yesterday, all kids do today is oral and anal sex. When I was growing up, getting anything like that was a real achievement. It sometimes took giving girls three Knickerbocker beers to get those things. Not any more. I blame Bush.
Anyway, Cash is always boring you with stories about his love life so I figured you should know where most of the relationship advice he gives you comes from. Me. Yes, me. How to get rid of a girl, he once asked? Drop The Wife Bomb,I said. Yes, that was my invention. So rather than filter it through him tomorrow, I will give you my relationship advice a day early.
(1) Girls, you can tell how a man will treat you by how he treats the waitress in a restaurant. This needs no further clarification.
(2) Men judge women by how they respond to even the most minor affliction in a man. It is often said that, during emergencies, women are likely to remain calmer than men, but it should be noted that inventing minor crises on a weekly basis gives them more practice.
Example: So I get up off the couch and I am feeling a little dizzy. I hate that feeling. I spend a lot of time making sure I look cool and dizzy is very much not cool. Did Fred Astaire ever look dizzy? I think not. So I point out that I am dizzy. My b***h doesn't notice. I weave for dramatic effect. That gets her attention.
"You're weaving," she says. "Maybe you should sit down."
Naturally, I don't. I don't take orders from her.
Why don't I take orders from her? Because (3) a man who can't control his b***hes can't control his bowels.
She continues. "I have no problem driving you to the hospital to get stitches but it probably wouldn't be necessary if you would just sit down. You're comparing yourself to Fred Astaire again, aren't you?"
"Just make sure if I fall I don't hit my head. I can't take any chances with this face."
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah. You're fine."
See what I mean? She knows who's boss. That's all for today. I will hijack this blog again some other time. Sorry I didn't use 8,000 friggin' external links like he always does.
The Indefensible Position: Slappin' Your Ho
It may be indefensible but it wouldn't be a fun day if I didn't try and defend it for that very reason. Why bother, you ask? Sure, you're thinking 'he's the cracker mack daddy of Blogger' so I never need to smack my bitch up to get her to act proper, but this doesn't mean arguing the merits of the occasional love tap can't be valid as an intellectual exercise.
I am inspired by this topic because Sean Connery's ex-wife says he used to slap her around and if it's good enough for the original James Bond it is at least worth thinking about. Obviously publicists denied the whole thing ever happened and sometimes you have to go right to the source, so I called up Mr. Connery and asked how things were going with his current bride after three decades.
"She needs a firm rein," said Sir Sean, "I've whipped her when she was ripe for it, and it has settled her down nice and grateful for it. This isn't on the record, right?"
"No, Mr. Connery, my blog is nothing if not discreet."
That put him at ease and he expounded a little. He was quick to say you can't punch your chick like you would a man. "There's a difference," he said, "between firm and being the kind of creepy wife beater you and I would knock on his ass. And then there's sex."
That made sense to me, especially since someone as cool as Sean Connery made it sound like we were compadres. Wait, did he just say sex?
"Cash, a girl's bottom is a prime erogenous zone but the sexual arousal nerves in the bottom are buried in a layer of fat and require harder stimulation -- like in spanking -- to trigger them. You really should know all this. I have read your stuff. On your blog you always sound invincible."
His sarcasm didn't go unnoticed and I didn't have sex last night so my temper was short.* "Hey, I am not sure I have to take that crap from a guy who starred in Meteor."
"I nailed Natalie Wood every night during that shoot. Who have you done? Some pop singer no one ever heard of (editor's note: link added at 1:48PM on May 04 because of the text message I received due to not having a link - see it here**) and that Tomb Raider girl when she was 12."
"She was actually 18 and she told me was 25 and she picked me up in the hotel bar, and I don't see how that is relevant ..."
"Easy, lad. All I am saying is I read that crap of yours about a line of women longer than the Wall of China and I am telling you, if you really want the chippies, star as James Bond in a movie some time."
Well, I had to concede that point. I couldn't even get cast as Rick in the Magnum P.I. feature film. But we still hadn't gotten to the part about whether or not he slapped his ex-wife around.
"Cash, I have gone over this a million times. It was a different era. Before disco. We didn't have guys wearing gym shorts to go to clubs. Do you think Leo Sayer could have gotten a girl in the '60s?"
"No, you needed to be a man," he continued. "Sometimes there are women who take it to the wire. That’s what they are looking for — the ultimate confrontation. They want a smack. Don't tell me you've never done it."
"Well, my girl isn't from the '60s. I'm pretty sure she'd set me on fire if I did that."
"You never know, Cash. You never know. The divorce rate is probably a lot higher today because women don't respect men enough. A good ass whippin' might take care of some of that."
I thanked Sir Sean for his time but came away feeling like I hadn't come up with a slam-dunk defense for hittin' your chick. Plus, today isn't all bad. Today's youth don't wear gym shorts on television but they perfected the concept of "friends with benefits" and I think that is a reasonable trade-off. And I don't care who invented that whole Brazilian Wax thing, they pretty much deserve a Nobel Prize.
*How did I not have sex last night, you wonder? Sweety said she had an appointment with her gynecologist the next morning.
"Do you have an appointment with your dentist too?" I asked. This was, apparently, not the appropriate response.
**Text message that got her linked: you insult me AGAIN and don't even put a link to my stuff. 7 years later and your still an asshole. jerk. and this had better not end up in your blog. call me. colleen
Weddings are glorious things. There's never a greater sense of optimism than on a couple's first official day as man and wife. Optimism from everyone else, that is. The bride's nerves are usually frazzled and she's likely to be strung out like a Christmas tree from all of that preparation.
So the tiniest things can send her into a tailspin. If one thing goes wrong, a bride is disappointed and worried. If two things go wrong, she is probably livid. But if everything goes wrong I bet she just short circuits and forgets the entire day.
That last one was the weekend wedding we attended. I knew it would get interesting because the directions we printed off read like a Moebius Strip. "Take Highway X until it crosses Highway X." We tried one exit and were wrong but we had plenty of time. So we tried another exit and it seemed to be right.
Sweety points out a sign. "Look, there's even a sign."
"Where?" I can't see it. Oh, there it is. It's a notebook sized piece of paper. Someone has written in marker "C--- and S--- wedding" and taped it to a lamp post.
She looks at me. "I think we're overdressed."
I won't catalogue the entire list of things that went wrong at this wedding but it rained and things went downhill from there. They moved everything inside and the room was crowded and then they ran out of soda within ten minutes. So a guy who never acquired a taste for hooch is left without a lot of choices for amusement.
Even with the downpour we see people heading for the exit to go smoke outside. California, being filled primarily with health mullahs who not only want you to stop smoking but also need to make you repent for doing it, has made it as hard as possible on smokers. Smokers are truly ghetto-ized in California these days.
"I feel bad for smokers," Sweety says. "What more can they do to them?"
"I am opening a smoking club," I say.
"In California?" she asks. "How do you intend to accomplish that?"
"Well, how does Arnie get away with it? He smokes cigars all of the time."
"He sits in a tent on the lawn of the Capitol Building."
"He has to sit in a tent?"
"Yes. And he's the Governor. I am not sure how you are opening a smoking club when The Terminator has to sit in a tent."
"There has to be a loophole. Maybe it's because of having waitresses or something. They smoke in that cigar shop near the house. I'm telling you, I am opening a club where men can smoke cigars in big comfortable chairs and be served by scantily clad women."
"That just earned you a veto," she says.
"Why? Because of the chairs?"
"Yes," she replies. "The chairs are what got my attention."
I pull out my handy Treo and start thumbing the teensy keyboard.
"Who could you possibly be writing to?" she asks.
"I am writing to me," I say. "I am taking notes. I just don't have any paper with me."
"Let me see," she says.
So I did. And since she got to see the unedited notes on my phone in their raw form, I will let you - my blog reading public - see them also. Just this once:
scantily clad women not a factor. try again later.