Top 5 Actresses We Are Told Are Hot But Are Really Repugnant

Top 5 Actresses We Are Told Are Hot But Are Really Repugnant

I hesitated in putting this list together as I have incurred much acrimony as to it being cruel. I, for one, will not be swayed by such behavior. I am also receiving a decent amount of scorn and questions about my sanity like, “Dude, you’re crazy, I would totally do Cameron Diaz. Remember how hot she was in The Mask?!” I am getting a bit weary of having to remind people that the movie Mask came out about twenty years ago and while Cameron Diaz was unquestionably hot in the early 90’s, she is a total mess now. Her face looks like it’s actually melting.

This Top 5’er isn’t about stars who have aged into being a hag, that wouldn’t be fair. I’m more bothered by them being presented to me as benchmarks of beauty by the media and their ilk. Maybe there just isn’t enough new talent to plug in to fill this gap, I don’t know. Lindsay Lohan made a run to grab the torch a few years ago but she can’t keep herself sober long enough for us to see much more of her than a mugshot. Who in the hell is Selina Gomez anyway? Unquestionably, there is a serious lack new talent being infused into the mix and that is genuinely part of the problem. Maybe I’m not the one to decide if that’s true or not though, I don’t watch Entertainment Television and have a great disdain for those who skank around Hollywood. My disdain, however, is exactly what gives me the freedom and capacity to tear into these horrible people. It makes me feel good.

I like to float my ideas for writing out to friends to see what kind of controversy they elicit and usually pick the ones that generate the most discussion and angst. Frankly, I preferred to write about my favorite candy bars, and I swear I will someday, but for some reason, no one cared. Go figure. This one, though, pushed some buttons. I like that.

Before we get to my list, I would also like to send out honorable mention to Uma Thurman who ran sixth on my list and to Hilary Swank who I don’t have on any list because I’m not really sure if anybody ever said she was gook looking in the first place. Poor Uma looks like a victim of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome as her eyes are virtually on the sides of her head and it seems to be getting worse by the day. She would probably make for a sweet point guard in the NBA as her “no look” passing abilities would be off the charts.

Also worthy of nomination is Sofia Vergara. No doubt a beautiful woman but she earns honorable mention on this list because I cannot imagine the torment of having to listen to her talk on a daily basis.

Jennifer Garner

Every time I see her I think her mouth resembles that of an octopus with pointed teeth that go all around her mouth, sort of like a real-life Squiddly Diddly (those of you under the age of 40 can use Google to look up this hilarious, blue cephalopod.) Pretty sure if you were to take her camping you could leave the can opener at home and just jam your bean can up under her lips and twist. And what’s with the muscles? Bleh (that’s the sound of me gagging FYI.)

I’ve never really liked her husband Ben Affleck either. I always thought it was because of his holier-than-thou political activism, and I truly do hate him for that, but now I see that his judgement is for shit as well. How am I to value his opinion on whom to vote for, since he feels compelled to cram it down our throats constantly, or what to do about global warming when I know that he finds this gargoyle attractive? As long as we’re on politics for a second, what better place for the “rest of us” to go for political advice than somebody who probably dropped out of high school and now makes their living pretending to be somebody else on film? Who appointed these people the bellwether on knowing who to vote for? I, for one, haven’t voted since the second Reagan administration because I will not be made a fool of but if I did vote, I am not going to look to Barbara Streisand for guidance. She sings, that it! What makes this melonhead Matt Damon worthy of a visit to the White House? Because he made a fucking movie? Does that make any sense to anyone? What kind of a special idiot does one have to be to take advice on who to vote for from these people?

Sorry, got off track there a bit but it’s not that Jennifer Garner is ugly or anything, she clearly isn’t. It’s that we are told that she is stone cold hot and she just isn’t and I object profoundly.

Cameron Diaz

Yes, she looked good in The Mask and, yes, she looked good in There’s Something About Mary but those movies were a hundred years ago and now she just looks like ten miles of bad road. Again, this isn’t about aging, I’m not saying she looks old and gross, just gross. Plus she looks filthy like she just came off a bender. Gross, greasy and hungover are not the characteristics of attractiveness.

Julia Roberts & Sarah Jessica Parker

I have opted to group these two into one literary equine stable as they both look like a two-legged version of Secretariat. More so Roberts than Parker but if you took their heads and jammed them on a kid’s hobby horse you probably wouldn’t be able to notice the difference from the wooden original. These two would draw better than decent odds in the fifth at Belmont, surely at least worth a show bet.

Plop either of them down in any given office environment and they’re at the top of the looks heap but not so in the movies. I’m looking for more from a leading lady than these two horse-toothed jackasses and by their smug attitudes, they seem to be buying into this beauty bullshit too. Don’t they have access to a mirror?

Scarlett Johansson

You know why she always has her melon cleavage on display for the paparazzi? So you don’t notice her crooked face. We are being sold a bill of goods. What is a “bill of goods” anyway and why is it so bad?

Now she’s lost a bunch of weight and it was all at the expense of her boobs and butt exposing her for the fraud that she always was. It was like when Toto pulled the curtain back on the Wizard or when we found out that McDonald’s makes their nuggets with that pink slime. Scarlett Johansson is pink slime.  Like, “This is what you were hiding?!? Holy hell!” At her current playing weight she reminds me a lot of that scary, preacher ghost guy in Poltergeist 2.

So there you go. Comments? Have I omitted anyone?

“It was a stone groove my man! You are the most righteous…. Yeah, yeah, yeah, just get the fuck out.”

Top 5 Gross Things They Sell at the Grocery Store

Gross Stuff at the Grocery Store

When I was a kid, I ate virtually nothing. I liked donuts, pancakes, French toast and pizza. That’s about it with the exception of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. My mother and I had many battles about my eating practices, with the proverbial, “there are starving people in Africa” line spoken on an almost daily basis. I would eventually win the majority of these battles as I’m she would eventually tire of looking at me sitting at the table alone with a cold plate of untouched food in front of me and acquiesce to my eating a PB&J sammich instead. I graduated high school at 5 foot 10, 129 pounds, an emaciated rail, and it was mainly because I hated food. I was not trying to be a dick about it and I appreciated her efforts but I simply didn’t like food. It wasn’t her fault, she was a good cook and I never blamed her, she was merely working with the disgusting tools nature provided her.

While my pallet has broadened a bit, there are still foods that no matter how old I get, I will not eat. Most of the foods I despise are you run of the mill variety but the subject at hand here are foods, and I hesitate to even use the word food when it comes to these treasures, that no one should be eating. I mean, somebody is buying these things and encouraging the store manager to continue stocking them.

Pigs Feet –

Surely you’ve seen this atrocity on the shelves of your local supermarket. It is exactly what I said, a jar of the feet of a pig.  What demon could possible possess someone enough to make them want to eat an animal’s foot? Especially the foot of a pig. Have you seen what pigs walk around in? They skulk around in mud inches deep comprised of their own shit and piss. What genius thought, those feet look delicious and should be bottled and made available at local stores? Mothers often use the phrase, “your room look like pig sty?” Why?  Because a pig sty is the epitome of filth.

Next time your grocery shopping, look for the pig’s feet, they’re always by the soup. If you hold the jar up to the light and thank God the Hormel people have opted for a clear glass for this epicurean delight, you can actually see the fine pig hairs still imbedded in the skin.

Feet are gross. They’re dirty. They take the brunt of most of the swill we delve into on a daily basis and I do not want to ingest them. A woman’s finely manicured feet in a pair of heels is an outstanding look but I have never been overcome with an uncontrollable urge to shove her foot in my mouth. I know there are people that get into that sort of thing but that is not my bag. I have way too many germ issues to indulge.

Forty years ago, I knew this little green looking kid named Bart, I’ve mentioned him in here before. Well Bart, in addition to having a weird fluorescent green color to him and pointed fingers, that made him look like Bat Boy, wore these brown plastic sandals that made an obnoxious farting noise when he walked. My sister and I used to get in trouble for calling him Bart the Fart. I think of Bart sometimes when I see the bottled pig’s feet while shopping. How can I be expected to eat something that makes me think of a green bat boy’s farting feet?

Tripe –

Tripe is defined as the culinary term for the stomach tissue of a cow, goat or sheep. Why in the hell is the stomach of a goat used as a culinary term anyway? Are you kidding me? I really don’t think there is much point in going any further here. My God, why? I venture that the first person to eat a farm animal’s stomach was probably starving and I get that. You’re going to die from hunger and all there is a cow stomach available, I guess you start eating but some idiot along the way ate this shit and enjoyed it enough that it now has a culinary term. I am disappointed in humanity.

Potted Meat –

Apparently those that enjoy the epicurean delights of this Potted Meat stuff colloquially refer to it as “pottage meat.” I’m not sure if this mispronunciation is due to there being a direct correlation in IQ points and an appreciating for this can of sadness but I’m pretty sure there has to be some mental deficiency responsible. We all know what hot dogs are made of but I have a pretty good feeling that I am right in assuming that this Potted Meat stuff is made from the stuff we wouldn’t dare make a hotdog out of. I thought about what sort of pieces of an animal would be left after the hot dogs fixins are taken out. I thought of things like cow utters, pig and goat utters would probably be included here as well. Utters would be something that I wouldn’t want in my hot dog but would expect in something called Potted Meat. That flap of skin thing that hangs down off of a chicken or turkeys neck would work well here too.

Organ Meet –

I don’t mean the liver sold in the meat section. Although that stuff is just awful. What I’m talking about here is that bloody sack of innards you find inside of a turkey.  It’s like somebody stowed their garbage inside of my Thanksgiving dinner bird. Why is this in here? Did I ask for this? Can I get a turkey without the guts? My mom used to boil this little bag of goodies and eat them like potato chips while she prepared dinner. The thought of watching her take a bite of the heart was and still is enough to make me never want to eat again.

Vegetables –

For my 49th birthday last year as a gift to myself, I gave up vegetables and specifically the guilt associated with not eating them. I despise them. I love fruit but vegetables are like their evil twin. Socrates was a firm believer in opposites. Like you can’t define light without experiencing dark, life without knowing death and so on. I believe the same idea applies to fruits and vegetables. You cannot understand just how good God given fruit is until you sink your teeth into an artichoke and witness first-hand the work of Satan.

If the entire vegetable section at the grocery store were suddenly eliminated I would be elated. I hate vegetables. They taste awful. I do like corn and potatoes which I am told are not really a vegetable but a starch which easily explains why I like them, they aren’t vegetables.

When I tell people that I don’t like vegetables, and I do feel the need to interject my opinion on them regularly and usually unsolicited, they always say something like, “well, you just don’t know how to prepare them.” This is a frequent response to my distaste for Brussel sprouts and broccoli as I think they are reaped from the pit of hell. “You have to sauté them in olive oil and butter then once they’re done cover them in cheese.” What? The fact that Brussel sprouts and broccoli have to be slathered in butter and coated with cheese is a testament to just how disgusting they truly are.

Case in point, everybody love to eat kale and spinach now, it’s the thing to do. However, I don’t see people walking around with a bag of greens. What they do is shove them into a smoothie covered in fruit and yogurt so they don’t have to encounter the acrid and rancid taste of these vile weeds. Consider this, if salads are so good, why does a multi-billion dollar salad dressing consortium exist? Vegetables are so awful that we will spend five dollars on a jar of dressing just so we can bury the taste.

What’s the deal with balsamic vinegar? I don’t remember this stuff when I was a kid. But I have a theory that without it, literally no one would be eating Brussel sprouts. The balsamic people really have saved the sprout people and I don’t think enough credit is given.

The question has to be asked, “If vegetables are so effing good why are there so many ways to prepare them with the intent of covering up the taste?”

I have tried for years to force myself to like tomatoes to no avail. I have one in an occasional cheeseburger and the foul taste is so overridingly powerful that the bitterness sullies my fine meal. People say, “Oh tomatoes are so delicious and sweet.” Wrong. You know what’s sweet? Ho-ho’s. Ho-ho’s are sweet. I like everything made from tomatoes, like pizza sauce, salsa and ketchup but the thought of eating them solo is nauseating.

Once you put a tomato on something there is no going back either. Those slimy seeds start spilling out all over your food like a monster from a 50’s sci-fi movie and you are not getting them off at any cost. And, trust me, I can taste every last one of them.

Don’t even get me started on mushrooms. I think they taste just like the dirt they are picked from and continue at the age of 49, like a five year old, to pick every last one of them out of anything I’m eating. I looked up the definition of “fungus” and this is what I found:

A spongy, abnormal growth, as granulation tissue formed in a wound.

And people eat this?!?!

When we were kids my mother used to make us imbibe this foul drink for breakfast every morning. It consisted of, what I surmised to be, unsweetened cocoa powder and sawdust swirled together in a cool glass of water. My mother hated us eating anything sweet. I delivered the Cleveland Press when I was in elementary school and I would do my collections on Saturdays. I would always plan my route to end up at Bordonaro’s , a local grocery store, so I could buy a box of Ho-ho’s and binge eat them all before I got home. To this day I cannot eat anything for breakfast but sweets. My mother and sawdust drink did some serious damage.

My favorite meal of all time, as I have discussed here before, is a gas station tuna sandwich, a bag of Munchos, a 3 pack of Ho-ho’s and a thick chocolate milk. If it were societally acceptable, I would eat this for Thanksgiving dinner and if I was on death row, I would chose it as my last meal. Why do we provide death row inmates with a last meal anyway? It’s not that I’m pissed about them getting preferential treatment, they’re going to be put down the next day and the least we can do to alleviate our collective guilt is to offer them a nice meal. What I wonder about is that when someone dies, don’t their bowels release? Really, if I have to clean that mess up, I’d be more inclined to give them a glass of water and wish them well.

“Hope you had a hell of a piss, Arnold!!!”


The Top 5 Worst Songs Ever

Top 5 Worst Songs of All Time

Let’s face it, there is a lot of shitty music out there. I do realize that music is a very subjective business though, its appeal is always relative to the listener. Sadly though, the listener is usually a troglodytic Neanderthal who has no appreciation for what is really good and is entertained by music equal to the culinary equivalent of a fish sandwich from the gas station. I, for instance, am a huge jazz fan, real jazz, not that plug your instrument in and jam out to stuff made for an leisurely elevator ride. I like my jazz raw and acoustic, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Art Tatum, etc., but I am fully aware that most of the populace hates my music. I get it, jazz is an acquired taste and I also get that I am kind of a conceited dick about it too.

The Top 5 Worst Songs Ever list has to be built from songs that actually were appreciated and charted. Songs that were embraced by the general public and were and continue to be played on the radio at an excruciating frequency. There are literally tens of thousands of songs that are much worse than the five on my list but everybody knows that they suck. I mean, “Puttin on the Ritz” by Taco is a horrendous song but doesn’t have enough exposer to qualify. People like Shaggy are also disqualified before the debate even begins because they suck so much.

Even good bands make bad music. Ever heard the Flash Gordon soundtrack by Queen? Two songs into this album and you’ll want to jamb an ice pick into your ear drum. Van Morrison, of “Moondance” fame, made an album called “Payin Dues” filled with a couple of dozen 1-2 minutes ditties written purposefully bad so that he could get out of a perceived insufficient record contract. That kind of spleen draining musical vitriol doesn’t count here as even the artist knows it sucks.

I’m not entirely sure whether this list is an indictment of the artists who produced these musical atrocities or the people who dug them enough to make them famous. The people who actually went out of their way to call a radio station and request, “Time of Your Life” by Green Day should be locked away from the rest of us who are trying our best to develop some kind of refined musical style. Do people call radio stations anymore? Does anyone even listen to the radio anymore?

There is no accounting for taste. People eat Cheez Wiz, pork rinds and are wrapping bacon around Oreos and deep frying them so it’s inevitable that the lack of taste in true epicureal delights would spill over into music from time to time, I just don’t have to like it along with the rest of the cattle.

Red, Red Wine –

I abhor reggae. It is really the worst kind of rhythmic clatter ever inflicted on a people. Every freaking song sounds exactly the same which makes it easy because if you hate one, you hate them all. Reggae is also an excruciating and unrelenting lullaby to smoke pot by, it’s more of a serenade to burning yourself out to. Marijuana really seems to be the only hallucinogenic to have its own theme music which I guess is pretty cool. Like there isn’t a particular kind of music to smoke crack to.

With the song “Red, Red Wine” the mediocre UB40 took my distaste for this genre to another level of hate. Before I get started on the specifics, did you know that this contemptible song was written by Neil Diamond back in the 60’s? I know, right? Who gives a shit?

“Red, Red Wine” transcends all of my hatred from reggae though. I remember sitting in clubs back in the 80’s and when this song would come on the girls would go nuts screaming and running to be the first ones on the dance floor. I, now sitting alone, would contract a pained scowl on my face and spend the following 20 minutes asking, “What’s wrong with you? Do you know what kind of an idiot you have to be to be entertained by that song!?” This probably explains my unrequited efforts to get laid. There’s nothing hotter to a chick than being told that she’s an idiot.

This song with that pimply voiced crooner actually hit number one on the UK charts and made up as high as 34 in the US. This is truly a sad state of affairs and makes me lose faith in humanity.

We Built This City –

Back in the 60’s, Jefferson Airplane, used to be a kick-ass rock band. They actually played at Woodstock and gave us great hippie tunes like “White Rabbit” and “Somebody to Love.” For sure, if reggae is the music of the pot smoker then Airplane served the same purpose for your acid droppers.

As the years passed, band members came and went but even after they changed their name to Jefferson Starship they still churned out some good tunes like, “Jane,” “Miracles” and “Count on Me.” However things took a precipitously bad turn to the hideous when they decided to drop the Jefferson moniker altogether and just run with Starship. Not sure who this Jefferson fellow was but he seems to have been the finger in the dyke holding back a harmonious torrent of horror.

Case in point, “We Built this City,” a song for the nonsensically named album, Knee Deep in the Hoopla. What city, exactly did they build?” I know Starship came from San Francisco and I know Grace Slick is old as fuck but they built nothing, San Francisco is and old city even older than Grace Slick. They never really specify. The lyrics are preposterous, further embedding this song in the Top 5 Worst of All Time. Take a gander at this drivel:

Marconi plays the mambo, listen to the radio Don’t you remember? We built this city We built this city on rock and roll

Marconi plays the mambo? Marconi is the inventor of the radio but I don’t recall him or any other station ever playing any mambo music and they keep insisting that they built “this” city. Alright! Fine. You built it just please stop singing about it.

I liken the demise of Airplane to this one time when my friend Joe Rodriguez got tore-up drunk back in college. Joe was one of those cute, little guys that girls love to cuddle but this night he stood up in front of everyone and pissed his pants. It was in public too right after he had called for everyone’s attention. Starship’s pissfest was more metaphorical but in the end, they still pissed themselves.

Sussudio –

This little piece of heaven was a 1985 release of Phil Collins’ and here we are thirty years later and it still sucks just as bad. Sussudio is supposed to be the name of some girl he had a crush on. What irritates me most is that Sussudio is not a person’s name.

Remember how kick ass Genesis was back before Phil Collins took his axe of shame to it. I guess, in the long run, I need to blame Peter Gabriel for leaving the band and creating a hole for this weasel to crawl through. I have, in the works, a Top 5 list of the best bands ruined by d-bags and, rest assured, Phil Collins and the hatchet job he did on Genesis will be featured.

I really have a chip on my shoulder about this guy not only for what he did to Genesis but also because I can’t help but notice the striking resemblance he has to Earnest T. Bass from the old Andy Griffith show.

Sussudio is a musical nightmare and I hate it. The only thing worse than Sussudio is the Extended Mix of Sussudio.

Don’t Worry Be Happy –

Is this even a song? Bobby McFerrin is an accomplished vocalist. He conducts and has won a Grammy like ten times. How does a person this talented produce this kind of drivel? The entire five minutes or so is filled with McFerrin making noises that set off my Misophonia (see the Top 5 Things That Annoy Me) like nothing else.

Five minutes of this ten time Grammy award winner making cracking and popping sounds. Is this McFerrin or that idiot from Police Academy doing his ridiculous sound effect shtick?

Plus I hate his laissez faire bullshit attitude. Yeah, sure, don’t worry, just be happy. Life is all about happiness, right? Just be happy. Nothing bad will ever happen. Stick it up your ass you pie in the sky toolbox. I refuse to be happy.

In his defense, his Beyond Words album is a masterpiece. If you are so inclined, I recommend checking out his song, Invocation. It is awesome! Holy shit! I just said something nice! Maybe Bobby did have an effect on me.

Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now –

Another Starship masterpiece. Please refer to We Built This City. However, I will just take a moment to add another thought. This song was actually picked up as the theme song for the insipid movie Mannequin back in the late 80’s. Mannequin was about this total a-hole loser who falls in love with a store mannequin, I know, what a dick, and wills it to life. That’s the cherry on the sundae of a big pile of poop.

Worst Songs

Red, Red Wine

We Built This City


Don’t Worry Be Happy

Nothing’s Going To Stop Us Now

“See I told you y’all was a couple of f*ggots. You ain’t Jacuzzi-an nobody”

Top 5 Things I Don’t Want To Do When I’m Old

Top 5 Things I Don’t Want To Do When I’m Old

This is not intended to hammer on the seniors as much as it is a reminder to myself, as I will be 50 this fall, to not do certain things as I limp toward either senility or death. As my golden years approach, I’ve decided to set expectations of myself that maybe most people haven’t even considered yet. As always, I have narrowed these “things I don’t want to be when I’m old” down to a Top 5. I am resigned to the fact that, at 50, not much is going to get better. Like my knee that hurts now, when I turn 60, I’m not going to wake up and say, “wow, remember how bad my knee hurt when I was 50!?” No, more than likely, my knee will be, by then, similar to a petrified piece of drift wood and hurt even more. That’s life telling you that it has moved on from you. That you serve little purpose. That you are a taker now more than a giver.

I have no genetic guide stone to go by either. My doctor likes to ask me about my family history of illness and disease. Pretty sure that she and the other doctors in the medical group have a Death Pool going and she is just cheating in order to improve her odds. Everyone in my family with the exception of my father has died from something induced by things other than natural causes. My grandfather started smoking when he was nine and I’m pretty sure that had something to do with why he died in his early 70’s. Like who starts smoking when they’re nine?!?! Nine?! I smoke but didn’t start till I was 35 and I suppose the question should also be posed, “who starts smoking when they’re 35?!”

My mother died from complications from Lupus, I don’t have that. My grandmother fell on a wooden chair and the injury eventually caused fatal stomach cancer, I haven’t yet fallen so I think I’m good on that front. My other grandfather died from brain cancer but he was younger than I when he died so I think I beat that. My mother’s mom lived to be like 95 but called me David for most of my life so I don’t think that’s a good barometer of how I’ll go. BTW, my name is Jonathan not David. From the familial evidence, I guess, I’m either going to die from some crippling, freak injury or live until I’m one hundred when my mind is so full of holes that it causes me to call people by the wrong name. Not really sure which one is better.

There are always early warning signs that something is awry like when you get that excruciating sore throat right before an epic head cold sets in. Those alerts don’t have to always be of a physical nature either, sometimes you get a feeling that something mental is starting to break down. My mental warning came to me while I was watching this Daniel Tosh character on television with my daughter. His sarcastic remarks and his irreverent behavior had me seething and it dawned on me that I now understood the definition of the word “whippersnapper.” If I had a cane I would have been shaking it at the television screen. Tina Fey is a whippersnapper and so is Jack Black. I can’t stand the sight of any of them. Using the word “whippersnapper,” to me, is the epitome of the definition of “old.”

With that, I present the Top 5 Things I Don’t Want to do When I’m Old….

Top 5 Things I Don’t Want To Do When I’m Old

Buy medical supplies off TV

Wear bad sunglasses

Say “old” things

Let Wilfred Brimley speak for me

Drive during rush hour

Buy medical supplies off television –

I notice these kinds of commercials mostly when I watch re-runs of old MASH or Andy Griffith episodes and the fact that I am watching these types of shows in the first place is a pretty strong indicator that I am approaching the age of being in the demographic but the idea that I would buy a catheter off television let alone need a catheter is abhorrent to me.

Do people really install these things on their own at home? Like shove a plastic tube up their pee-hole? Seriously? When did this become a “do it yourselfer?” Who thought this was okay? Is this Obamacare in action or did the Republicans and their insurance provider cronies block an actual doctor from performing this procedure and pump the savings into another missile project? In either case, I think, I would rather piss myself than to have to sit on the edge of the tub and cram a tube up my junk hole. Surely no one wants the indignity of sporting a urine soaked diaper but isn’t technology supposed to get better with time? Is self-flagellating myself with a tube of plastic and toting around a bag of pee really supposed to count as advancement? “Good news old dude, no more diapers!” “Nope, now you can just shove this thing up your pecker in the comfort of your own home and walk around with a pee bag instead. Just don’t drink too much or this thing might explode allover you and everybody around you.”

Will there be catheters available in the “As Seen on TV” section at Walmart?

Wear my leftover cataract surgery glasses like a new pair of Oakleys –

Okay, this one frustrates me to no end. Apparently when you get old, a crusty film can develop over your eyeball resulting in having to have the doctor peel that shit off so you can see right again. Once the procedure is done your eyes are very sensitive to light and they give you these “temporary” giant black glasses to wear until you heal.

Problem being that you see people months later still using these ridiculously huge things as regular, everyday sunglasses. Lord knows that a good pair of shades can get rather pricey and no one is expecting somebody on a fixed income to go out and pick up a pair of Revo’s but, damn, any gas station has a rack of sunglasses that go for like $3.99, get some! Not only do you look like an idiot but you also look cheap as fuck.

At what age does one just not care anymore and forgo plunking down a few extra dollars on a pair of shades to at least pretend to still be sort of cool? Maybe if they came with a month’s worth of free pee-hole tubes?

Say things that define just how old and surly I really am –

Ever notice how old people describe the unfortunate amputation of someone’s body part(s)? It’s never, “once the doctor got in there he found he had to remove the spleen.” No it goes something like this, “the diabetes was so bad that they had to TAKE her leg.” Take? Took it where? They make it sound like the doctor needed the leg elsewhere or had a vendetta against the patient and crippled them.  Another example is, “he LOST his arm to the arthritis.” I guess the losing or the taking of a limb sounds better that saying that this poor fat bastard spent his life eating himself into oblivion to the point where his body couldn’t keep up anymore so they had to start dissecting him.

When did the doctor become the enemy? I propose it occurred right about the same time that one had to start self-cramming plastic up their genitals.

Old people also like to add the word “the” in front of any disease that one might have contracted. “Did you hear about Mort? Looks like he’s got THE cancer.” Maybe the severity of the disorder justifies the need for a “the?” Like you don’t see people saying that he had THE cold or THE strep throat.  Those are both rather benign and easily cured but when you get to your headliner kinds of diseases maybe those merit a “the.” Maybe using a “the” takes away the potential of associating it with themselves? I don’t have an answer but it’s annoying and I will try not to do it.

Appoint Wilfred Brimley as my spokesperson –

I’m not really sure who decided that this old, grizzled bastard was the poster child for the aged. What’s his fucking problem? What is he so pissed off about?

Drive during rush hour –

There is no reason in the world that a retired person needs to be out driving during rush hour. Where are they going? Why now? Can’t it wait? If I were to run for some kind of political office, which, by the way, will never happen because I think politics is stupid, I would run on one thing and one thing only, if you’re retired, you can’t leave the house in a car between the hours of 7AM- 9AM and 5PM- 7PM. I don’t care about abortion, gay rights, war, whatever, just leave the roads alone for four hours a day. Of course I would never get elected as old people are the only ones who vote but, really, unless it’s an emergency, and I can tell by the speed that you are proceeding with that it isn’t, stay off the road. I and everyone else out driving at 7AM are on our way to work. You can sleep in for God’s sake! You and your crotchety old buddies can wait to park it at McDonalds for the free coffee an hour later than normal.

My father doesn’t drive during rush hour. He has fully acquiesced to the fact that he has nowhere to be during those hours. What he does do, instead, is call me and regale me with his stories of yore. It’s cool though. I’ve heard his stories a thousand times and they never get old.

How many of these people should legitimately have a driver’s license anyway? 25 years ago I took my grandfather to renew his license and that requires a re-take of the eye test. Well, he had just had a stroke and was partially blind in his left eye and I knew he couldn’t pass but we figured it was better if they told him instead of us. I watched as he let five or six people cut in front of him and soon realized that he was memorizing the test. He passed! Crafty? Yes. Dangerous? Without question. The left side of his car already looked like he bought it at a war surplus auction and surely it was a matter of time before one of those dents had the impression of somebody’s face. Worse still, was his insistence that all of the other drivers on the road were the real problem. It was like riding with Mr. Magoo or Lindsay Lohan! No doubt, at least, the aged are devious.

Top 5 Most Annoying Things

Top 5 Things That Annoy Me

Of course there are things that irritate me more those that appear on this list like war, poverty, the threat of a nuclear war and those fish in the Amazon that are attracted by uric acid and worm their way up inside your pee hole but everybody else hates that stuff too. No, this list has to be specific to my contorted and maladjusted mind and free of things obviously annoying.

This was literally the fastest list I ever put together and it has not changed since I first penned it about ten years ago. With that, welcome to my instability….

Chewing sounds –

Nothing and I mean nothing sends me into a blinding rage like listening to somebody chew. I don’t know why. It’s stupid and I admit that but if you plop down next to me with a bag of chips and start munching on them, the entire time I will literally be fighting the urge to put my fist through the wall.

I was told that this is an actual “disorder” called Misophonia. I looked it up, Wikipedia says:

Misophonia, literally “hatred of sound”, is a rarely diagnosed neuropsychiatric disorder in which negative emotions (anger, flight, hatred, and disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. The sounds can be loud or soft.

Seriously? Does everything have to be a disease anymore? It goes on to say:

People who have Misophonia are most commonly angered by specific sounds, such as slurping, throat-clearing, nail-clipping, chewing, drinking, tooth-brushing, breathing, sniffing, talking, sneezing, yawning, walking, gum-chewing or popping, laughing, snoring, typing, coughing, humming, whistling, singing, certain consonants, or repetitive sounds.

Not gonna lie, just from reading the list, I need to meditate. My buddy’s jaw clicks every time he chews and it drives me fucking insane. I cannot enjoy a meal with him because all I want to do is reach over the table and punch him in the face which leads me to Wikipedia’s next entry:

Sufferers experience fight/flight symptoms such as sweating, muscle tension, and quickened heartbeat. Some even feel unwanted sexual arousal, caused by the over-activation of hormonal circuits.

I will admit that when I do have an outburst which would go down something like this, “How many chips are left in the fucking bag!!!” I am always left rather embarrassed but if I don’t say something I feel like I’m going to explode. I will say, though, while it may be true for some people, I have never experienced any occurrences of sexual arousal because of some rude lout chomping on a bag of Chili Cheese Fritos and that may be the only thing keeping me from seeking medication for this affliction. The day I get a hard-on from Misophonia is the day I check myself into the psych ward.

Movie silence –

I think this affliction is tied back to the chewing sounds thing but it rates honorable mention because of just how irrationally enraged it makes me.

Picture yourself in a movie theater. The previews have just ended and the movie is just about to start but first we have to see all of the companies involved in the production of the film. Most of these little snippets from companies like Amblin Entertainment, don’t have any sound and I am left with complete movie silence resulting in me being isolated in a room full of strangers digging into cellophane candy bags and munching on stale popcorn. I feel trapped, angry and panicked. Like if I was an animal in a snare, I would, at this point, chew my foot off just to escape this place running (although now limping on my stump) and screaming into the parking lot. It’s like I’m in a room where one –hundred people just sidled up to the trough to be slopped like a hog.

Pouring sounds on the radio –

Misophonia, misophonia, misophonia. I am starting to realize that I have a problem. Pouring sounds make me want to rip the radio right out of the dashboard and chuck it out onto the road.

People who try too hard to be liked –

Let me decide for myself if I want to be your friend rather than you cramming yourself up my butthole.

                New guy I meet at a party – “so, uh, hey Jon, so, uh, what are you into?”

Me – “I’m a fanatic for ancient Sumerian history and how it relates to other cultures and prophecy.”

New guy – “What? Really? Me too. Maybe we could get together sometime and talk.”

Me – “No.”

So am I to really believe that this idiot is into Sumerian history as it relates to ancient cultures or is he just trying to get into my proverbial pants?

Insurance commercials –

How much money exactly could I save on my auto insurance if these people just cut back a bit on the commercials? I want to stab Flo from Progressive in the eye with a fork. That fucking lizard? He makes me want to hate an entire nation of Australians.

Speaking of Australians, what’s with the continued use of the “shrimp on the barbie” bullshit from Outback Steakhouse? That was popular, and wrongly so, in the 80’s, like over 30 years ago! I don’t even think that Crocodile Dundee guy is even alive anymore so can we please stop?

I used to like the acting of that guy from the Allstate commercials and the guy shilling for Farmer’s is like an Oscar winning actor and now I can’t stand the site of either of them.

I will gladly change insurance providers to the first company who steps up and promises to stop punishing me with insipid marketing.

Sharing –

Since I used three of my Top 5 on sounds that drive me insane, I felt like I could and should break my cardinal rule and make this a Top 6 list.

So I humbly submit my supplemental sixth entry, I hate to share. I don’t mind helping out people who are genuinely down on their luck. I donate clothes, money, food, all that crap, to help give someone a leg up on getting out of poverty but I draw the line at sharing with somebody who just happens to like what I have, wants a piece of it and has the means to go get it themselves.

So I had the foresight to stop and score myself a four pack of Mallo Cups and because you didn’t, you think I should give you some? I think not. I put in the thought here. I put in the effort as well. You want some Mallo Cups, there’s a gas station down the street, go get yourself some.

What are those cardboard coupons in Mallo Cup packs anyway? They’re called something like Mallo Money. Does anybody even know what I’m talking about? I may be the only person who loves Mallo Cups. Seriously, the best chocolate candy ever made but that’s for another list.

My mother used to tell me that I was stingy even as a child. She always thought it was some kind of character flaw but I see it as having an inborn, innate sense of justice. Even a toddler could tell that you have no stake in my Mallo Cup claim.

I have a penchant for Munchos. I could eat them three meals a day. Yes, I realize they are reconstituted potato flakes but they are delicious. Nobody ever has anything good to say about Munchos until I have a bag. I cannot imagine the suffering I would endure having to share my Munchos, listening to them chomping down on them like a cow chewing its cud while watching an insurance commercial. I may need to be hospitalized at that point.

Annoying Things

Chewing sounds

Movie silence

Pouring sounds on the radio

People who try too hard to be liked

Insurance commercials

Sharing (honorable mention)

Top 5 Worst Movies Ever

Top 5 Worst Movies of All-Time

So how does one define the worst of anything exactly? And in the case of movies, where there are literally thousands upon thousands of options, is it even fair to narrow the list to a simple five? There are so many variables that can make you hate a movie that don’t even have anything to do with the movie in the first place. Did the popcorn suck? Did you sit in gum? Did the theater smell like vomit? This kind of thing can ruin the entire experience and sour even a blockbuster.

Like this time we went to see District 9, it was a patently horrible piece of cinematic garbage but what really soured me on it was the argument I got into with this asshat sitting in front of us who didn’t like us talking during the pre-preview commercials. You know the part of the movie when they tell you to turn off your cell phone? He turns around and tells us to, “shut the fuck up!” I being a lover not a fighter, said something to the effect of, “Relax man, the movie hasn’t even started yet.” Well, this was like an act of war to this idiot and we proceeded to argued thru the actual movie previews, the very piece he was apparently intent on seeing. Dumbass. In the end, District 9 didn’t need any help sucking but even if it was even remotely tolerable, I would have hated it based on my movie going experience. Where is the stupid, zit-faced kid with the flashlight and the ill-fitting uniform jacket when you need him?

The films, and I use the term film loosely, had to come with some critical acclaim, starred actors that we’ve actually heard of and was in genuine theaters not one of those straight to video pieces of garbage. Has there ever been a “straight to video” movie that was any good? You didn’t see Godfather II put out on Beta or laser disc. Why? Because it’s good and they didn’t mind spending money to promote it. I think porn is sold “straight to video” because it pretty much sells itself. They don’t need big opening night events with stars spilling out of limos in fancy clothes to sell their wares they just put a big set of melons of the cover of the box and give it a catchy name like, “Ass Pirates in Space Part 10.” Then they sit back and collect their profits.

Anyway, to be on this list the movie had to be of some prominence it had to be billed as a winner and I had to hate it.

Worst Movies Ever

Nacho Libre

Donny Darko

Year One

The Wall

Avatar / Dances With Wolves

Nacho Libre –

When I turn on Netflix and see Nacho Libre headlined as the new big release it makes me think less of Netflix. Like, seriously, how do you not see what a toolbox this Jack Black guy is and not worry about risking your reputation being sullied by just how awful a person and actor he is? It’s like bringing a whore home to meet your family. Everybody knows what she is and is horrified by her but stands aghast at just what lows you’ve fallen to. Her who-ha is hanging out all over the place and your old dirty uncle may catch a glance at it every time she sits down but what’s really going on is that your family is thinking that you’ve lost you dignity and your mind. In this example, you are Netflix and Jack Black is the whore. I didn’t really need to point that out but I wanted to add someplace in here that, “Jack Black is a whore.”

I hate Jack Black. He irritates me to no end. My problem with him stems from his propensity to over act from, what I perceive to be, a more than unsatisfied need for attention. I hate him. I’m using the word “hate” here. I also believe that playing a part in a movie may actually tame or corral him pertinent to his role in that film which translates to him being an even bigger knob in real life than he is in his inane movies. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that I hate him.

In this cinematic embarrassment, Jack Black plays a monk tortured by the dream that he should have been a Mexican professional wrestler. Brilliant, right? Hard to believe that the writer of this trash didn’t win an Academy Award. Eventually, he can stand it no more and goes out to pursue his dream and becomes Luchador. Incidentally, Luchador, in Spanish, means “wrestler.” Can’t believe they went so far out on the limb with the character name, duh.

There aren’t words here to describe just how much I hate this movie. Without Jack Black this waste of celluloid would never have made it off the cutting room floor. I don’t know what celluloid is or if they even use it any longer but I’ve heard other people use the term and stuck with tradition here. Let it suffice to say that if they had invested in a flip book and crayons and drawn the whole thing, it would have been a huge waste of crayons.

I cannot fail here to mention that the vision of a rather rotund and filthy Jack Black in a leotard is not something I ever want to entertain again. I’m sure it was intended as some attempt at humor but all it did was remind me that he, in spite of what I may think, has a penis.

The New York Times reviewer Manohla Dargis said that Nacho Libre was “endearingly ridiculous.” Are you kidding me? I will never respect your opinion again. Not that I did in the first place because I’ve never heard of this Manohla person before but c’mon! You work for The New York Times for God’s sake. At one point you must have had some credibility to rise to these sorts of ranks but it was all lost in two short words.

Steven Rea from the Philadelphia Inquirer said, “Black’s “caped” Luchador grows on you like a fun guy.” What does that even mean? “Grows on you like a fun guy?” Perhaps Mr. Rea was misquoted and meant to say “grows on you like a fungi?”

If you do chose to see this movie, might I suggest an Ativan to help deal with the resulting anxiety induced by this atrocity?

Donny Darko –

I am aware that there is a rather large cult following for this next movie, Donny Darko, but, in spite, of that myopic crowd of low standards, I must say that this is just a nauseating movie. I mean, what the hell is going on in this flick? What’s with the giant evil stuffed rabbit? There is mention of time travel though I saw none of it. Do I need to be tripping to understand and appreciate these movies? I hardly think that I should have to be in a chemically induced hallucinatory state to appreciate a movie!

Jake Gyllenhaal is in this movie. It’s weird because I have lived under the assumption that this Jake Gyllenhall guy and the guy who played Spiderman, Tobey Maguire were the same person until I saw them both in this other stupid movie called Brothers. One of them, not sure which since I can’t tell them apart, comes home from war or some shit and finds his brother banging his wife. Certainly not a cool circumstance to come home to but can you really blame her? She probably couldn’t tell them apart either.

Anyway, dumb movie, don’t see it. This idiocy is saved from being the worst ever by the creative minds who brought us Nacho Libre.

Year One –

I think I have made my feelings about Jack Black known, He sucks and so does Year One. Incidentally, Netflix is now headlining this ridiculous piece of sophomoric garbage as their “new feature.” I’m now starting to think that my decision to hitch my wagon to Netflix horse was a bad idea.

Does Michael Cera really act or does he just bring his little whiney bitch real-life attitude into his movies?

The Wall –

Is Pink Floyd’s The Wall really a movie? I’m often asked that when I go into one of my rants on how insipid a film it really is. I think that if we’re using the word “movie” to describe something that I enjoyed and had an impact on me either positive or negative then the answer is no. But I did see this horrifying example of cinematography in a theater, so I say it’s a movie and I also say that it is the fourth worst movie of all time.

I hate this movie so much that it makes me not want to listen to the accompanying album which is sad because it really is a great piece of rock and roll. Bob Geldoff, frontman of the 70’s and 80’s band, The Boomtown Rats, plays Pink, a tortured rock star descending into madness. You know who really descended into madness? Me. Watching this movie as like taking the Space Shuttle to Belleview. At least Why does he have to be so dirty? The whole movie disgusts me and gives me a feeling of needing to shower with acid and a Brillo pad.

Avatar / Dances with Wolves –

I realize that both of these movies are hugely popular and gated tons of money but I am telling you that they are just awful, the worst. Why are they grouped together here? You might suspect a tie but you would be wrong. It’s because they are the same damned movie! One has blue people and the other Civil War soldiers but intrinsically, they are identical and it pisses me off. Let me make it clear that I detested Dances with Wolves long before Avatar even came out. It’s too long and agonizing. In fact, the original cut was over six hours long. Holy shit!

Back to DWW and Avatar being the same movie. Think about it, in DWW we have this Civil War guy sent out to the middle of buttfuck nowhere and he makes secret friends with the supposed to be “enemies.” Thru his interaction with these people, he becomes one of them and ends up fighting for and with them. Then you have Avatar, a guy dresses up as a blue dude to infiltrate the enemy and ends up falling for another blue chick and fights for them against his own people. Tell me, what the damn difference?!?!

I remember sitting thru both movies thinking just kill them all. The soldiers, the Indians, the blue people. Just all of you die so I can be put out of my misery. It hit my while suffering thru Avatar that I had seen this movie before and was equally despondent. At that point I realized that this crap was the same damn thing as that Civil War bleeding heart bullshit. I was nearly in tears. Isn’t it bad enough that they made this once let alone twice?!?!

There you have it. The Top 5 Worst Movies of All Time. I would add that if there were such a thing as a Top 6 list I would have added The English Patient. All that sand left me feeling depressed and the story was agonizingly long. I have come to the conclusion that if I’m watching a movie and subconsciously wishing everyone would just die so I could leave the building, it’s probably not a good movie.

Top 5 Things Vikki Said…

My Top 5 Things Vikki Says, aka, Vikki-isms

My friend Vikki is moving to Nashville. I have known her for more than ten years and she and her husband Dan have become two of our closest friends, I will miss her more than she realizes. (I’ll miss Dan too but this is about Vikki.) Vikki mentored me when I started working in her department a decade ago. She didn’t have to, but she took the time to teach me everything she knew about our chosen field of work. I will never forget that nor will I ever be able to repay her.

Vikki is from the Philippines and these one-liners will seem a lot funnier, if you don’t know Vikki, said with a nasally Pilipino accent . She has lived in the United States for well over twenty years and has an amazing grasp of the English language for someone who didn’t grow up here but she struggles with similes. In her defense, as if it isn’t hard enough to learn a foreign language, how does one pick up on and understand the connotation of things like, “built like a brick shit house,” when you’re just trying to remember how to count to ten? Obviously a person isn’t put together like an outhouse built from bricks but how the hell is a newbie to English supposed to know that? For that matter, where did this phrase come from anyway? “She’s built like a brick shit house?” I blame the Commodores for this one (their popular song, She’s a Brick House) though someone added the shit house part later on and that kind of ruined it for me. I personally, don’t like to think of women having to expel waste. I choose to think that they exude a flower scented air thru the pores of their skin.

Or how about, “Colder than a witches tit?” What the hell does that mean anyway? I don’t know any witches and therefor have no inner knowledge of what their breasts feel like but I don’t fathom them being any colder than any other women’s. When I was a kid people thought it funny to start reeling off this stupid poem that started with, “There once was a man from Nantucket…” They always stopped there. I don’t know anything else about this Nantucket guy but I always assumed that they stopped there because of the implication of Nantucket rhyming with “fuck it.” Stupid. Old humor is stupid.

My point here is that learning a new language is hard enough without having to figure the “behind the scenes” meanings of our American colloquialisms. Vikki is no worse than anyone else, her downfall is that she had the distinct misfortune of sitting next to me for the last ten years and I have kept a detailed Word document detailing her more hilarious attempts at using these phrases to her advantage. Not one of these on the list was ever intended to sound filthy or sexual, it just came out that way when mixed with my dirty mind.

So as an homage to my friend, who I will miss very much, I present the Top 5 Things Vikki Said:

Top 5 Things Vikki Said

“This bonus money is really burning in my hole…”

“I can’t cram anymore in my box, it’s pretty full…”

“I like the smell of Ryan’s taco…”

“It’s so long and thick, all the way to the tip…”

Anything that has to do with her calling somebody named Dick or Peter

“This bonus money is really burning in my hole…”

Back when we first started working together, Vikki and I would get a quarterly bonus check based on how well we performed. That perk has since been phased out probably because we were making too much money. Can’t have that kind of bullshit going on. Anyway, after receiving a particularly large check, the kind of check that goes beyond paying bills with and requires the purchase of something rather extravagant, Vikki blurts out at the top of her lungs, “this bonus money is really burning in my hole.” To this day, I have no idea exactly where Vikki was storing that check.

“I can’t cram anymore in my box, it’s pretty full…”

I realize that this isn’t really an attempt at a simile but, seriously, how can this not be on the list? I think that my adding commentary to this can only lessen the effect so I will just leave it at that.

“I like the smell of Ryan’s taco…”

Vikki and I, with our friend and co-worker Ryan were sitting in the Tequileria in the Cleveland airport waiting for a flight to take us to a trade show in Vegas. I feel compelled to reiterate that The Tequileria is a Mexican restaurant and it’s in an airport. It’s gross but they make a strong taco.

Ryan, having arrived early, ordered a big plate of airport Mexican and was elbow deep when Vikki and I got there. Vikki fought the urge at first but finally succumbed to the enticing aroma of re-heated swill and said, “I like the smell of Ryan’s taco!!” For those unfamiliar with the slang definition of the word “taco” let me quote directly from the Urban Dictionary:


I especially like how Urban Dictionary tells us how to use the word in a sentence, how handy, right? How was poor Vikki to know that saying that she liked the smell of Ryan’s taco would be taken to mean that she delighted in the smell of his supposed privates? I mean, if, in fact, Ryan happened to be a chick.

“It’s so long and thick, all the way to the tip…”

I would also include here, “My God! It’s so black!” Not necessarily because they just seem to go together but also because they were spoken within minutes of each other. Frankly, I have waited my whole life to have a women speak these words to me, I guess not the black part as I’m as white as a sheet, but alas it isn’t to be. Getting back on track, years ago Vikki and I went out for a rushed smoke ahead of a pending late winter storm. These two comments stemmed from a giant icicle hanging from the building and the approaching dark clouds. Totally inert until thrown into the mind of a pervert.

Anything that has to do with her calling and asking for somebody named Dick or Peter

When one has the sense of humor of a 12 year old there is nothing funnier than fart and dick jokes and Vikki has always offered up a never ending supply of them although always inadvertently.

“No, no, no, I want Dick,” an instant classic. I never really understood why a grown man would choose to be referred to as “Dick” when there are other less hilarious options like Rich or Richard. I realize that “dick” may have been just a guy’s name fifty years ago but it’s a whole new ballgame now.

Others in the same vein, “Harry, I’m looking for Dick” or “Hi, is Peter in?” I will always hold this one in high regard, “Hang in there Dick!” “Good afternoon, is Peter in?” I’m not really sure how you’re supposed to get Peter to the phone without asking for him but it’s still hilarious.

“I work well with Peter”

“I work with Rod a lot”

“Hey is Dick around today?” If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard a women say this, I would have – nothing

There are literally 6 pages in Word form, amassed over the years, of these classic one-liners, way too many to go into here but maybe someday I will just list them all out.

I will miss collecting your gold, kid, but I will miss you way more.

Top 5 Things You Can’t Say Anymore

Things You Can’t Say Anymore

Apparently, there are words that you can’t say anymore. Words that were, just a few years ago, perfectly acceptable and mainstream. I don’t mean obviously horrible words like N bombs and other slurs, I just mean words that were pretty conventional not long ago and now when I innocently drop one of them make me sound like a full-on purveyor of genocide. Mind you, some of this hoo-ha is a bit out of control and part of the problem are the overly sensitive, politically correct, hipster douche bags who won’t even watch a football game because the violence makes their beard hair curl and their skinny jeans cinch up around infantile penises. So, I guess, take this with a grain of salt.

Things have changed a lot over the years. I remember watching programs like Leave it to Beaver and they couldn’t even show that Ward and June slept in the same bed. They had these little twin beds. As if they showed a queen sized mattress in their bedroom we would suddenly be filled with thoughts of Ward sticking it to June good and hard. Hell, you couldn’t even show a toilet on TV. Where did the Brady kids pee? Like seeing a toilet would make me think of Marcia taking a shit and result in a need for martial law? However, it was societally acceptable to call a black guy, “boy.” Bob Hope gets fined by the FCC for saying “hormone” and the police use water cannons on people protesting for civil rights. Seems odd.

Today, though, on TV, you can show two people hammering the shit out of each other on the freaking toilet but I offend when I say “retard?” I’m lost.

I guess in hindsight they aren’t the kindest of words and I’m not really sure how “retard” ever became societally acceptable but I grew up using them and never thought of them as offensive, they were just descriptive words.

When I was in elementary school they had a classroom in the basement where they educated the “slower” kids. Back then we called them retards. The word makes me wince now but back then even the teachers called them the retarded class. There was always a rumor served with a stern warning that these kids liked to bite and if they broke your skin with their green pointed teeth that you would be doing time in the basement class right along with them. Like being mentally challenged, I think that’s what we say now, is caused by some mutant virus.

My mother used to be a piano teacher and every Wednesday night we had to go to Bart’s house so she could teach him and the rest of his creepy family how to play. Bart was this pale green color and he had pointed fingers. He and his siblings would hide in the walls and jump out at you if you happened to walk by. Certainly this kid was green from hiding in the walls and was clearly deprived of sunlight but how does one get pointed fingers? And why were they in the walls in the first place? Meanwhile, my school has a room full of “retarded” people and this green little bat-fingered mutant is in the “normal” class? WTF?

bat boy

Writer’s note:

My favorite joke of all time relies heavily on the use of the word retard and I am going to have a hard time giving this up. In fact, it’s the only joke I can remember. It goes like this, what’s better than winning a gold medal in the Special Olympics? Not being retarded.

I can’t help it. It’s funny to me and I know it’s horrifying.

Oriental is bad to say anymore, too. Apparently it is a general racist term given to the Asians by the British who colonialized the region to rape and pillage resources until they were all used up. They treated the Asian people like garbage in addition to this name change and now I guess I shouldn’t be wondering why they find it offensive. I suppose if some snotty assed British d-bag came into my country and announced that they were in charge and decided to start calling me a cracker, I would be offended too. I am working on getting rid of this word but the progress is slow. I mean no harm though.

I have become accustomed to labeling something that I don’t like as “gay.” I don’t mean anything derogatory to gay people, in fact, I don’t even think of a gay person when I say it. It really makes no sense to use the word “gay” in this context as I’ve never heard anyone say, “that’s so fucking heterosexual,” when they are upset. My friend Brad, who happens to be flamingly gay, in a personal, vainglorious crusade against the word “gay” being used in this manner, does, in fact, use the phrase, “that’s so heterosexual.” He sounds like an idiot.

Webster’s defines the word “crippled” as lame, lamed, disabled and/or impeded. It goes on to offer some synonyms as if the damage done wasn’t enough:

Bad, castrated, damaged, debilitated, disabled, disarmed, disqualified, emasculated, game, halt, halting, hamstrung, handicapped, hobbling, hog-tied, incapacitated, inoperative, invalidated, lame, limping, maimed, paralyzed, prostrate, spavined, weak, weakened

How was this word ever adopted to describe a person on crutches or in a wheelchair? No wonder people get pissed when you use it. I don’t even know what “spavined” means but it sounds shitty.

The last word on my list is Columbus as in Christopher Columbus. Every October 12th Facebook and Twitter erupt in protest to the celebration of the anniversary of this guys “discovering” of America. First of all, he didn’t discover shit. People were here already and he and his merry band of sailors managed to infect the majority of them with smallpox to the point of nearly driving them to extinction. It seems odd, in the United States to have a holiday to celebrate some Italian dude’s inadvertent viral genocide against an entire continent of indigenous people but I don’t complain because this major d-bag usually gets me the day off.

Things You Can’t Say Anymore






The Creepiest Sexual Predator Songs of All-Time

I was torn here as to whether I should break this post up into five smaller posts but was worried that some of you wouldn’t care for the subject matter and wouldn’t stand for an entire series on the music of sexual predators. Hence, I made an executive decision and decided to deal with it like one would pull of an old Band-Aid. Work your way thru it and let me know what I have forgotten.

The Creepiest Sexual Predator Songs of All-Time

This isn’t a subject that’s on my mind a lot but, I’ll tell you what, when one of these songs comes on, I, like Elvis, Get a Dirty, Dirty Feeling. I don’t want to hear songs that make me uncomfortable, it’s not fair to the listener. I didn’t molest anyone. I’m not the one who should be feeling greasy here. I think most people take these songs at face value and don’t want to dig deep. I on the other hand offer the:

Creepiest Sexual Predator Songs

Baby, it’s Cold Outside

You’re Sixteen, You’re Beautiful and You’re Mine

Into the Night

Rock and Roll Part 2 (Gary Glitter)

Anything by or involving Pete Townsend

Baby It’s Cold Outside –

Should a Christmas classic really be a play–by-play on how to drug and rape a girl? The answer is no, in the event that you’re torn here. The idea for this ditty came to me over Christmas when, having heard the Dean Martin Christmas classic, Baby It’s Cold Outside for the 100th time, I actually started to listen to the words. I’m not sure what villainy caught my ear initially but the first verse is a good place to start:

My mother will start to worry – Beautiful, what’s your hurry My father will be pacing the floor – Listen to the fireplace roar So really I’d better scurry – Beautiful, please don’t hurry Well Maybe just a half a drink more – Put some music on while I pour

The first thing we can surmise from this is that clearly, this girl lives at home with her parents and they are already worried as to her whereabouts. She could be a college student, yes, or maybe even an old maid type but that line of thinking requires a little effort. It’s much easier to assume by the wording that this poor girl is a 16 or 17 year old high-schooler and you can actually hear her pleading for her life as Dean Martin begins feeding her alcohol to commence the date rape feeding. First of all Dino, it’s illegal to serve alcohol to minors and then secondly, what the fuck? You’re Dean Martin for god’s sake! Do you really need to inebriate an innocent teenager to get laid? The first half of the next verse gives a little more clarity as to what this predator has in mind.

The neighbors might think – Baby, it’s bad out there Say, what’s in this drink – No cabs to be had out there I wish I knew how – Your eyes are like starlight now To break this spell – I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell

The neighbors might think what exactly? Maybe they have kids too and maybe they should know about this hyena living on their block. “What’s in this drink?” Are you fucking kidding me? As if the alcohol isn’t enough for this innocent, Dean is now slipping her a ruffie? My God, I cannot believe that I have been listening to this song for decades without a clue of what’s really been going on. I can’t help but feel like I should do something to help.

Now that the date rape drug is starting to kick in….

I ought to say no, no, no, sir – Mind if I move a little closer At least I’m gonna say that I tried – What’s the sense in hurting my pride I really can’t stay – Baby don’t hold out Ahh, but it’s cold outside

A serious crime is being committed here. Plus now she’s calls him “sir?” Yikes. Like he’s one of her dad’s friends or something. No means no, Dean, and she said it three times.

My sister will be suspicious – Man, your lips look so delicious My brother will be there at the door – Waves upon a tropical shore My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious – Gosh your lips look delicious

This poor defenseless child is practically in tears at this point and the ruffie “Uncle” Dino slipped her is in full gear. As she begins to slip into the blackness, she tells Dean that her family is going to be hunting him down like a dog and he responds with incoherent, drunken babblings. She’s like, “dude, my sister is going to think I’m a whore and my brother and aunt are going to probably beat your old decrepit ass if not kill you and all you have to say in that swarthy, bullshit, pseudo Italian drawl is, gosh my lips look delicious?”

Henceforth, when I hear this song I feel like I will feel like I’ve witnessed a violent felony being committed. Nothing like a festive Christmas rape to ring in the holiday season, eh Dean? I can almost hear him thinking, “Once I’m done defiling you sexually, I’m going to cut your body to ribbons and decorate my tree with your entrails.”

She’s Sixteen –

Moving on, I expect better from a Beatle. I don’t know why I do but I just do. However, Ringo Starr’s song, “She’s Sixteen” is an absolute predatorial atrocity. This song is like the anthem to the predators demographic. It’s creepy as fuck and makes me feel like I need a shower after listening to it.

You come on like a dream, peaches and cream, Lips like strawberry wine. You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful and you’re mine. (mine, all mine)

You’re all ribbons and curls, ooh, what a girl, Eyes that sparkle and shine. You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful and you’re mine. (mine, all mine, mine, mine)

I’m sorry but a sixteen year olds girl’s lips do not and should not convey the thought of strawberry wine. First of all, she’s sixteen, you creeper and secondly, what is strawberry wine anyway? I don’t have any experience with the flavored wines but I cannot imagine that drinking them would result in me want to molest a child.

Writers note:

This one time my wife and I went to a winery with another couple. This place prided itself on a particular homemade bottle of swill that they labeled their “Secret.” I thought it tasted like the secret was that they poured a bottle of Windex in it, and chose not to indulge. Later I watched my three fellow bacchanalians vomit in the parking lot. Some secret. Score for me!

Continuing, ribbons and curls? Really? This description brings thoughts of little Shirley Temple to my mind and does not, for even one second, take me down the road of wanting to molesting her. But apparently Mr. Starr sees things differently.

This guy is a freaking Beatle for God’s sake and could have his choice of just about any women he chose yet opts to croon the melodic stylings of child rape? I am at a loss.

I think it’s important to note here that the song, at least syllabically, would have worked just fine if he had said, “You’re eighteen, you’re beautiful, and you’re mine.” Right? All of this could have been avoided if she, whoever she may be, would be of legal age. I cannot imagine that somebody didn’t point that out to Ringo when he proposed this song to the record label. Like, “Hey Ringo, what if we just changed it to her being eighteen so we can avoid all the impending rape scuttlebutt that will inevitably come from this?” Did he argue with them? Did he claim that he was being artistically marginalized? “You’re stifling my creativity man!” Creativity here being rape. Ugh.

Into the Night –

I think it ironically apropos, in a sick way, that the third song on the list also has issues with a sixteen year old.

She’s just sixteen years old Leave her alone, they say

Benny Mardones, whoever the hell that is, took the world by storm with this musical testament to rape back in the late 70’s, as I recall. It really is a good song, by my standards, and Mr. Mardones has a fine voice but why does she have to be sixteen?

Again, as with Ringo Starr, would it really have been that hard to start the song off with, “she’s just eighteen years old?” Eighteen and sixteen have the same number of syllables and eighteen is actually a legal age you creepy fuck.

According to the second line of the song, “Leave her alone, they say,” even his friends are telling him to stop doing this. Dude, this is solid advice. Listen to these people! They are the voice of reason in your life!

As if this whole thing isn’t bad enough, Benny tells his friends that they don’t have a clue. “This is about love and you don’t know a damn thing about it. Nothing’s gonna stop us! We’re in love, man”

Separated by fools Who don’t know what love is yet


If I could fly I’d pick you up I’d take you into the night And show you a love Like you’ve never seen – ever seen

These aren’t words to a song, they are escape plans. Pick you up and fly you into the night? And “show you a love like you’ve never seen?” Yeah, I’m sure she hasn’t seen love,Benny, she’s sixteen fucking years old you creepy old bastard.

It’s like having a dream Where nobody has a heart

You mean like her dad? Because you’re 35 years old and stalking his daughter. He probably just doesn’t understand love either.

It’s like having it all And watching it fall apart And I would wait till the end Of time for you

This is apparently the part about where he is serving time. A little advice Ben, you don’t have to wait till “the end”, two more years, when she turns eighteen, would’ve sufficed.

I can’t measure my love There’s nothing to compare it to

I can think of something to compare it to, child molestation.

Another couple of thoughts on this disaster. As if Into the Night wasn’t enough for this guy, the album Never Run Never Hide, also covers two other rape classics, Too Young and Hold Me Down. This guy is clearly making a statement, that he digs kids.

Rock and Roll Part 2 –

Every person that has ever been to or watched a sporting event on television knows this song. I promise that 70 percent of you can’t put a name with the tune but you have heard it dozens of times. The song has no words. How does a song with no words make it on the list of Creepiest Sexual Predator Songs, you ask? Simple, because the guy who recorded it has been sentenced to sixteen years in prison for sexually abusing girls.

Yes, the song played at every NBA and NFL game for as long as I can remember by Mr. Gary Glitter, whose real name is Paul Gadd was sentenced to prison for molesting three girls back in the 70’s. How it took forty years to bring this pig to justice is another story but doesn’t change the fact that this guy is a fucking animal.

Here’s the list of crimes he was found guilty of:

One count of attempted rape, four counts of indecent assault and one count of sexual intercourse with a girl under the age of thirteen.

Nice spread for a guy who is being paid ridiculous amounts of money in licensing fees by the very sports teams we know and love.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that he isn’t allowed in Vietnam for the very same litany of crimes.

I felt compelled to add a photo of this douche bag from his greatest hits album. First of all, Greatest Hits? Seven out of ten of you didn’t even know who this guy is yet he has a hits album? Secondly, if that isn’t the picture of a fucked piece of trash, I don’t know what is. Think Jo Anne Worley after a Halloween bender. Can you imagine the emotional damage done to you having been molested by this guy? As if going thru something like this isn’t bad enough, he’s wearing a metal sleeveless suit with a riveted collar. At least rape me in a fashionable manner. This would be like if the Tin Man got a rusty, metal erection, instead of a heart, and put it to you.

.gary glitter

Writers note:

Those of you under the age of 45 have no idea who Jo Anne Worley is, so, think Jack Black dressed up as a women who’s dressed up as a man. Make sense? Probably not but neither does it make any sense that the multi-billion dollar professional sports industry uses the music of this freak to pump us up at their games. There is no shame.

Pete Townsend –

Am I the only person who knows that The Who’s Pete Townsend was arrested for downloading child pornography on his computer back in 2003? Every time I bring it up I get the same response, “not Pete Townsend from The Who!?” Well what other fucking Pete Townsend is there that I would bring up? Like, “Hey man, did you hear that Pete Townsend got arrested for looking at child porn?” “What?! The guy from The Who?” “No, not that guy. My garbage man Pete Townsend.” Really? Duh.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a huge Who fan. I don’t even like The Rolling Stones much because it makes me feel like I’m cheating on The Who. There is a theory out there that says that you can’t be a golfer and a softball player at the same time. The swings are too different and one screws the other. Now, I don’t play softball because it requires running, something I gave up long ago when I decided that smoking was much more fulfilling. But this theory, for me, holds true for The Stones and The Who. Take your pick because you can’t have both. Why? I don’t fucking know. It just is.

I don’t have a particular song to break down from Mr. Townsend but the story is still a peach. So a little over ten years ago, Scotland Yard or some shit like that kicked in Pete’s door and took him to jail for downloading kiddie porn. When questioned by the police, Townsend said that he downloaded the pictures of naked children, he paid seven pounds for the pleasure, so that he could prove that British banks were in bed with, no pun intended, pedophile rings in laundering money. He claimed that his decision to pull the trigger on this filth was “insane” but he had investigating to do. Sort of like a British Inspector Gadget except for Pete isn’t wearing anything under that trench coat.

Investigating? Pete Townsend would not be the guy I would call to investigate any crime let alone pedophiles. I wouldn’t mind asking him to bust his guitar over the molesters head much like he did on stage back in the day but having him sitting on his home computer trying to save the world is not what I would picture from this guy. He also claimed to suffer from White Knights Syndrome. Ha! He felt like looking at pictures of naked kids would help him understand better what it was like for a child to be raped by their uncle. What is this guy talking about?

He also made claim that Russian orphanages were complicit as well. Everybody always blames the Russians for everything.

One small piece I will offer in Old Creepy Pete’s defense is that they didn’t find any other illegal material in his laptop. They did find a lot of lube in the keyboard though which made it difficult to further the investigation.

It took him almost seven years to publicly defend himself against the allegations and claimed that he was suicidal over the whole thing. Seven years? Let me tell you something, if someone accuses me of having anything to do with profiting emotionally or financially from sexual abusing children, I am not going to wait seven fucking years before I say, “uh, hey, I didn’t do that shit.” I mean fucking Winona Ryder called a press conference within hours of her arrest for shoplifting to defend herself against stealing a god-damned sweater from a department store and they had her on video doing it!

Maybe Pete was really trying to be porno Batman, I guess we will never know the truth. Like I said, I’m a huge Who fan and none of it sits right with me. Fucking douche.

So there it is. Please let me know if I’ve left anything out.

A Belated RIP to Elton John

Elton John

Worst Elton John Songs

Goodbye England’s Rose

The One

The Last Song

The Club at the End of the Street

The Circle of Life

Writers note:

(In order to qualify for such distinction a “worst” song must have been popular. It cannot qualify if it was intended to suck and just take up space to round out an album.)

I can’t help but to include the eerily similar case of Sir Elton as long as we’re on the subject of musicians going off the deep end and becoming shitty.

Elton John was literally the hottest thing going back in the 70’s. Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison had all offed themselves leaving him pretty much the only game in town. He was Captain Fantastic, man! Hit after awesome hit just spewed from this guy. The costumes and the theatrics further added to his greatness.


I think Sir Elton’s downfall started with the release of the re-make of Candle in the Wind, a tribute to 50’s mega-star Marilyn Monroe. Let’s be honest here, Elton was and still is clearly a gay man. He did a fine job of deflecting our attentions away from in it a less than tolerant age for that sort of flamboyance, but he was clearly gay. What I’m saying is, nobody was buying the whole in love with Marilyn thing. In love with her clothes or her style? Fine. But wanting to jump in the sack with her? I think not.

Not that I didn’t like the re-make of Candle, I did, in fact I liked it better than the original what with that whole orchestra thing going on behind it.

As with Billy Joel, a woman was the impetus for Elton’s decline and I am officially calling Princess Diana guilty of this heinous crime. Not that she can respond to my accusation as she is thoroughly dead but had she not died we would never have been subjected to the re-re-make of Candle done to the words of her life, Goodbye England’s Rose. So dumb. Like embarrassingly dumb. I get the same feeling about this song as I would if I was to ever walk in on a friend masturbating to the Mick Jagger / David Bowie Dancing in the streets video.

He says things like, “our lives were torn apart.” Torn apart seems a bit extreme. I mean she was hot and all but I didn’t have any trouble getting up for work the next morning and I don’t recall missing a meal from grief.

He also calls her, “our nation’s golden child.” Really? I mean she died in a car accident philandering around at high speeds with her boyfriend. Hardly, I would think, the pride of a nation.

Anyway, as I mentioned before getting sidetracked, this musical atrocity, England’s Rose or whatever it was titled, as if that wasn’t bad enough, we had to watch this blithering idiot sobbing in the front row of HRH’s funeral. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with crying at a friend’s funeral but doing it for the whole world to see all the while sporting these cartoon-like, giant, red plastic eye glasses took to another level of stupidity that I will never be able to reconcile back into even a modicum of respect for the old boy.

Sir Reg has an already established proclivity for using his music to memorialize friends as he did with Empty Garden, his tribute to the slain John Lennon and that song kicks ass. There’s no syrupy bullshit here and I don’t remember him falling all over people at the funeral doling out the last pieces of his dignity through his tears.

I should say here that I couldn’t care less if he’s gay. This has nothing to do with anything but his music going gay. I don’t care what Elton does with his free time just keep giving me the music I love or loved, in this case. Bring back the Elton in the Donald Duck suit pounding away at Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting and take back this blithering idiot.

Best Elton John Songs

I Feel Like a Bullet

I’ve Seen that Movie Too

Talking Old Soldiers


Madman Across the Water