Farewell, Borat

The release of the movie Borat marks a bittersweet moment in my life. I'm as excited as anyone can possibly be to see what Sacha Baron Cohen has thought up for the major motion picture installment of his lovably backwards psuedo-Kazakhstani. But, my giddy anticipation has been severely curbed by what I see looming ahead. I'll admit to having bouts of pessimism, but I can't help but cringe when I think of the incessant and increasingly unfunny impressions that will spread like wildfire as more and more people watch the movie and leave the theater believing that they have the best Borat impression ever.


We've all seen/heard it before. Just within the past couple years, Dave Chappelle went from edgy comedic genius to annoying catch phrase machine. And sadly, the fault was not Chappelle's that his sketches became the source of obnoxious public recreations. For the most part, it was my own generation's doing. Every unfunny and unoriginal young adult from high school to college have been the main reason that such great works of comedy die from overexhaustion almost immediately after they debut.


However, knowing of the impending doom of Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat leaves me more depressed because unlike every other instance of joke/character overexposure, Borat has been a source of hilarity that has relatively flown under the radar for quite some time. "I'm Rick James, bitch!" and every other similarly overused line have been "discovered" by everyone at about the same time.


I guess I could go on and on about how much I hate how people think that memorizing a funny line automatically makes them funny, but there's really no point to it and I'm feeling too apathetic to continue bitching about it. But, in closing, I just wish people could understand that comedy is not about being wacky, wild, loud and out of control. In fact, comedy is ALL about control and timing. The funniest people out there not only know what to say in the right moments, but also when to just shut the hell up. That is the key distinction to someone like Sacha Baron Cohen and that obnoxious guy I'll inevitably sit within earshot of during a lunch in the near future. And as I eat my sandwich, I will overhear him say "I like sex! It nice! Yes! Put the Jew in cage!" as if he had an annoyingly aggressive case of Tourettes.


Basically, please never quote Borat aloud in public ever. Ever ever ever. Because if I, or anyone who shares my point of view are nearby, you will be (deservedly) punched in the throat.


In light of my bidding adieu to one of my favorite sources of laughs of the past several years, I just realized how appropriate it would be for Borat to die at the end of the movie. It could be morbidly hysterical and incredibly fitting.

A Chuck Norris Joke?! Genius!

Want to hear a funny new joke? You do?! Ok...here it goes....

Chuck Norris!!

Hahahahahaha! Funny, right? Right? Get it? I made reference to Chuck Norris, so it's hilarious! Right? Oh man, I should be a comedy writer and make funny jokes for Jay Leno or a sitcom or something. Chuck Norris! Hah! Got you again! I'll give you a moment and let you gather yourself and maybe clean up the floor from all the peeing in your pants that you just did.

Done? Ok, good. Anyway, I'm aware that the Chuck Norris joke phenomenon is already on the decline and I'm a little late on the bitching about it, but this complaint will more than likely be interchangeable with whatever new thing pops up next that causes everyone in the country (particularly on the internet) to make really awful jokes. There was Chuck Norris, more recently there was Brokeback Mountain and before them was I'm Rick James, Bitch.

But, I think what's more annoying than hearing the same stupid lines over and over again is how smug and content some people seem to be when they tell these jokes. That more than likely makes me sound like a very bitter and angry person, and that's probably accurate, but seriously, c'mon. You don't deserve any credit for repeating a lame joke, so wipe that damn look off your face. And it's not like you've done anything special. That joke will live on and spread without you because it will inevitably be forwarded via e-mail through every office in the country for the next 20 years. Don't believe me? Go into any office (assuming you're not in one already), go to the nearest computer, and check the e-mail. Inevitably, you'll come across some Michael Jackson jokes. Or worse yet, maybe even a joke about how OJ Simpson kills people or Monica Lewinsky sucks penises**or is the plural form penii?**. The subject line was probably something like "Funny Joke!" or "Hilarious!!!" wasn't it? Yeah? I knew it. Oh crap! Get off the computer and get out of there! That lady is back from her coffee break and she'll catch you snooping around on her computer! Run!

I've lost the right to complain about stupid/lame jokes, haven't I? Oh well. At least I didn't resort to a joke about gay guys and then cleverly mix it with either "brokeback" or "mountain". For instance, I could have made a story about two male chain smokers making out next to a public water dispenser, and I could call them SmokePack Fountain. See? Didn't that make you groan with disgust? Me too.

But, as much as I hate these instances of shitty humor spreading like wildfire, I am actually somewhat surprised that it took so long for someone like Chuck Norris to reach cult status for such silly reasons. The reason for this is my long standing belief that action movie stars are inherently HILARIOUS. I've never really been able to get to the bottom of it, but I think the root of this sentiment may lie within two action stars, neither of whom happen to be Chuck Norris.

"Who, oh who are these endless wells of laughs?" you may be asking yourself. Well, I'll tell you. Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal.

If you're not lucky enough to have ever seen any of the cinematic masterpieces that these two have been in, you have a gaping chasm in your life that must be filled. Sure, watching their movies leaves you shaking your head in disbelief. Sure, you feel overwhelming depression when you realize these guys make ludicrous amounts of money despite being completely devoid of any talent, save for confusing people with unintelligible speech. Hell, I doubt either of them are literate and my logic tells me to completely despise them both. But, there's just something so incredibly funny about them that I begrudgingly love them in spite of it all.

It's been somewhat difficult to get to the root of what makes these guys so amusing to me, but I think one of the main reasons is I am entertained by people who take themselves too seriously. With that said, I defy you to name a group of people who take themselves more seriously than the stars of really really bad action movies. And going further, I tried to figure out what makes Van Damme and Seagal stand above the rest of the pack in my mind. What I came up with is the fact that Van Damme's name is "Jean-Claude Van Damme". I don't believe I've ever seen a first and last name with such different agendas. The last name "Van Damme" sounds tough, as if the owner of the name enjoys fighting men twice his size in seedy bars in the middle of nowhere. But his first name "Jean-Claude" leads me to think that he may be a hair stylist that makes snide remarks about the desperate housewives or contestants on American Idle. Maybe that explains why Van Damme always does the splits in his movies. Oh, I didn't mention that already? As if Jean-Claude wasn't ridiculous enough, I think there's a clause somewhere in his contract that he must have at least one scene in every movie where he is doing the splits. Add that to his accent which is an incredible mix of over-enunciation, incoherence and indistinguishable European AND the fact that he is one of the most arrogant human beings ever and you might begin to understand the magic that is Jean-Claude Van Damme.

On the other hand, Steven Seagal is a walking laugh riot for a whole different set of reasons. Seagal holds many similarities to Van Damme, such as being an egomaniac who is almost impossible to understand. However, unlike Jean-Claude, Seagal's speech is made unintelligible because he doesn't speak so much as mumble while heavily exhaling. It almost sounds like he's always exhausted, which makes sense since Steven Seagal is the only completely out of shape action star I've ever seen. Watch any of his later movies and pay attention to the number of times he goes any faster than a light jog for a few yards. If he exerted himself any more, he'd probably have an asthma attack and no one would be left to stop the impending nuclear bomb/terrorist attack on the White House/assassination/explosion. And that laziness also translated into his fight scenes, where the big climactic fight with the evil leader looked more like a somewhat advanced slapfight. And if that's not enough, there's also the fact that Seagal is a large white guy, yet insists on exclusively dressing in traditional Japanese outfits and styling his hair as if he was a samurai. That actually may explain why he's ALWAYS squinting. I used to be under the impression that Seagal was just constantly staring into the sun, but now I realize it's because he's trying to fool people into thinking he's Asian. I didn't think it possible, but he just became funnier to me.

Now, I realize my attempts at describing how and why those two are supreme masters of comedy may have fallen short. So, to truly do them justice, I think I must speak a thousand words at a time with the power of ridiculous pictures that I found online.

Every single movie. Without fail, this pose will somehow find its way into Van Damme's movies. I hope that one day he completely loses his mind and makes a movie that is two and a half hours of him just doing the splits and flexing his right arm--which is the only pose he knows, by the way--while there's all kinds of random explosions behind him. It would tank at the box office, but you better believe I'd be there opening night in the theater by myself laughing hysterically in the back row.

This is a still from Street Fighter: The Movie, in which Jean-Claude plays Guile. For those unfamiliar with the video game based character, Guile is basically the ultimate American. So, how does Van Damme play this character? By wearing a silly ass beret, flexing his right arm and doing the splits. What made it funnier was the fact that in the movie, there were many instances of him bragging, boasting and taunting his enemies. It was even better because his aforementioned accent turned his insults into gibberish. In fact, there's a part towards the end of the movie where Guile gives an inspirational speech, that went a little something like this: Leesen gahhhys, we hab to do dees to sayb da bahh seeya obba dah bood nah duf adda lub lub dee ub nah zub see aware da pen sess. OK?! Less go!

I can't remember what movie this is from, but he has a mullet. And a mighty fine and funny mullet it is.

I'm running out of things to say because I'm too busy trying to stop crying from laughing so hard. How this man is not in some comedy hall-of-fame is beyond my comprehension.

This is from Universal Soldier. Or maybe Universal Soldier 2. Maybe both. It was the same movie twice anyway. The reason I wanted to put this picture up is because not only does Van Damme want to exude "badass" but he also wants to set an example for everyone by practicing safety. What this picture tells me is "Jean-Claude asks you to please wear proper eyewear to ensure safety when firing cartoonishly large weapons". And I wish I could find the rest of this picture, because judging from his background, the rest of this photo includes several frightened teenagers who were taking pictures before prom until a cyborg super soldier from the future rudely stepped into the frame.

When I mentioned the silly outfits Steven Seagal wears, this is a nice little sample of what I was talking about. To add to my theory that Seagal longs to be Japanese, not only does he dress in traditional Japanese outfits, fashion his hair as if he was a samurai (or more appropriately, a sumo) and constantly squint to appear as if he's not a "round eye", but he also goes by names other than Seagal. Those names being Takeshigemichi and Chingdrag Dorje. I shit you not. He also goes by The Great One. I wish I could make stuff up that was this hilarious, but my make-believe can't even begin to compete with Steven Seagal's reality.

Imagine being a evil mastermind. You've plotted for months and months. Maybe even years. Now your diabolical scheme has been put in motion and in a matter of hours, you will possess several nuclear weapons. Shortly after, you will have the presidents and prime ministers and every major leader in the world on the phone ready to pay you any amount and begging at your feet not to do anything drastic. And then *BOOM* out of nowhere that face above slap fights you into submission. What's worse, he probably uttered some really cheesy line while thwarting your plans, but you couldn't understand it because it was horribly mumbled. All your friends from the Diabolical Terrorist Academy are going to bring this up at the next reunion for sure. And you'll deserve every bit of humiliation, because seriously...look at that guy. That guy took you down? He looks like he can hardly do a single sit up, let alone dismantle a foolproof plot to hold the world hostage for a huge ransom. Shame on you, evil mastermind. Shame.

Steven Seagal has done a movie with rap star DMX, and DMX came away calling Seagal an asshole. This is especially funny to me because DMX is certifiably insane. If I'm not not mistaken (or just making crap up), DMX is in prison for stealing a car at LAX and then claiming to be an FBI agent once caught by local police. Also, in most of his "songs", DMX just barks a lot. Granted, I'm not too familiar with DMX's work, but the few songs I've heard, he just calls some people bitches, drops a few expletives and then barks a whole lot in between. I know that the picture above is not of DMX, but rather of Ja-Rule, another comically talentless rap "artist" that strangely resembles a muppet. Or, maybe he's just a really cuddly looking midget. Either way, Seagal sure knows how to match up with his co-stars. Too bad he never made a movie with MC Hammer. Everyone knows all too well that Hammer needs some work, and can you imagine that final scene where Seagal stares down the bad guy with his squinty little eyes, and just a few feet behind him, MC Hammer is frenetically doing that crazy Hammer dance with his baggy golden pants on fire. Why on fire? Because that dance was hot.

I don't care what you say, that scene would be mind-blowing.

Did I mention that Seagal also dabbles in music? I posted a picture of him happily holding a guitar while wearing what looked like a tiny, hoodless raincoat in a previous post. If that wasn't enough to tip you off that ol' Chingdrag Dorje wants to be a musician, this picture should get that point across loud and clear. I've never heard any of his stuff, but if it's anything like his acting, it should be hilarious and almost impossible to understand. Also, while searching for more information on his venture into the music industry, I found a gem of a quote.

"I am hoping that I can be known as a great writer and actor some day, rather than a sex symbol."
-Steven Seagal on his life's greatest struggle

Other gems include:

"Above the Law was a politically conscientious movie. On Deadly Ground was environmentally conscientious so I want to keep making movies like that which are more geared with a certain entertainment value but also bring people forward into contemplation."
-Steven Seagal on the deeper meaning of his ostensibly meaningless films

"I have traveled the world creating this drink; there is none better that I know."
-Steven Seagal on the quality of his new energy drink

"When I walk into a room some people see a dog, some people see a cow. I am all of what they see. It is their perception."
-Steven Seagal making absolutely no damn sense

If you've somehow made it this far, I must commend you. And thanks for accompanying me as I meandered so far that I literally forgot what I was talking about in the first place. Seriously though, what the hell am I talking about. I just read over a few of the past paragraphs and all I see are silly pictures of Seagal and Van Damme and though I understand there's no such thing as a bad reason to display these pictures, I must have had a point to begin with. Right? Ohhh, that's right. Chuck Norris. And how action stars are intrinsically funny. Well, I think I proved that point. All I know is, as much as I hate to admit it, I did think those Chuck Norris jokes were pretty funny when I first read them whenever it was that the phenomenon just began. But, once the joke began to spread like an increasingly less funny herpes, Chuck Norris was merely a medium for really awful jokes, and not the comedic goldmine some people assumed him to be. No, my friends, Chuck Norris is nowhere near as funny as Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal, and I believe I have presented enough evidence here to prove that point. Thank you, and good night.

Edit: I was wrong.

But don't get anything mixed up. Though Chuck Norris is funny, jokes about him written by barely literate 16 year olds are not.

Apparently I'm Vain

How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.


- Henry David Thoreau



***

I've always felt this way, but now that I found this quote I feel like Henry David has verbally bitch-slapped me. Good thing I have a bad memory, because I'll be missing out on life by writing useless bullshit again in no time.

Addendum to Dr. 90210 (a.k.a. The Joys of Anal Bleaching)

So, I recently gathered new thoughts on a show I have quickly grown to loathe, and I decided to add these thoughts to my original post. Realizing that when I write, I tend to meander for paragraphs at a time, I felt it best to just make a new entry. Anyway...


As I mentioned before, the show I saw and originally wrote about aired a month or so ago. Well, earlier today I was channel surfing and saw Dr. 90210 had a new episode. I decided to stop and take a gander at what awful things they were up to in the land of plastic, insecurity and warped sense of self-worth. To my amazement (and admitted delight), this week's focus was something so absurd that the show almost won me over (until I remembered what an evil pile of horseshit it is). I'm desperately trying to find a funny way to describe the episode, but I doubt there are enough adjectives in the dictionary to do it justice, so instead I will leave you with the Comcast provided info/show summary:


"Not-so-everyday procedures are spotlighted, including labiaplasties and anal bleaching. (Reality)."


Don't bother with the double take; you read that sentence correctly. Anal bleaching.


I flipped past the show, and the moment I landed on E! (Excruciating-to-Watch Television), I immediately saw a woman, pantsless, on all fours. Granted, the sight of a half-naked woman on hands and knees is normally a good thing. However, knowing it was this show, I had a feeling my initial joy would soon turn into a frustrated, bewildered rage. Before I could finish my thought, another woman instructed the woman to arch her back and point her ass into the air. I laughed. The woman then began to apply what looked like honey to the other woman's buttcrack. I laughed some more. The woman applying what I assumed might be apple preservatives on the other woman's "back door business" then began saying ridiculous things like, "You know, this is really great, and it's actually very sanitary," and "Wow, you sure do have a backside on you. I'd like to jump on and ride you into the parking lot."


My laughter dwindled slowly into silence and I assumed my "What the fuck?" look. Shortly after, the woman started to place sheets of wax paper between the other lady's ass canyon, and I started wondering if I had tuned into some really twisted cooking show. Could these women possibly be baking honey accented cookies and revolutionizing the way we prepare baked goodies? Please let it be so! My dream was quickly shattered when my wise brother incredulously said, "Are they waxing her ass?" I began laughing again.


After a bit of crackwaxing, the woman having the royal ass valley treatment appeared on the screen, fully clothed, to explain what she was having done. First off, the woman--whom I will from here on out refer to as "the idiot"--was a completely unnatural looking nightmare. Her face had been botoxed into a blank stare, and added to her ballon-like, collagen pumped lips, the idiot looked like she was stung all over the face by ten thousand angry bees and then hit in the mouth and forehead repeatedly with a lead pipe until her brain could no longer create facial expressions. To make matters worse, she was drooling excessively all over herself. But other than that, she was beautiful. Ok, that's a lie. But as I was saying, she attempted to speak, and somewhat explained that she was getting an anal bleaching treatment.


The advantages of bleaching a person's head hair is still somewhat beyond me. But, to get an anal bleach? I put the information into my brain's Make-Sense-o-Matic-3000 and cranked up the handy dandy machine to full blast. Not only was it an act of futility, but the strains from trying to understand what anyone could possibly gain from anus bleaching left me unconscious in the fetal position for a few hours. Plus, the Make-Sense-O-Matic-3000 exploded and it left me partially deaf and with a headache.


After regaining consciousness, I found myself facing a very tough question. With an ever growing sense of cynicism, I was almost certain that my faith in mankind was at rock bottom. Holding knowledge of a new trend in Los Angeles that involves coloration of one's anus, I had to seriously consider the possibility that the human race may be headed to hell even faster than what I once believed to be the "hellbound terminal velocity". Is it possible that there is more that our society can do to make me believe life is actually an enormous practical joke? I think it is quite possible that the answer to my troubling question regarding our existence will be a resounding "YES...you dumbass...now go get your scrotum botoxed and bleached to the point that it's transparent."


You know what? Judging from the history of my relationship with irony, I should expect a brand new trend of anal coloration. Tired of your boringly natural colored asshole? Join the masses and make an appointment for your own highly hygenic and fashionable anal coloration treatment from your friends at Useless Evil Bullshit Incorporated! Amaze your friends with your brand new deep hazel, stunningly beautiful azure, strikingly bold orange, deliciously hypnotic ruby red, or captivating exotic green, asshole!


Honestly, I thought colored contact lenses were silly, but this clearly has put my mind into an entirely new perspective. Also, here I was thinking that standards for impressing the opposite sex were becoming unfairly high, now that (apparently) women value when men shave, brush their teeth and bathe. But, when people are getting special treatments for bodily crevices that rarely (and frankly, should never) see the light of day, we have officially boarded the Crazy Train with a one-way ticket.


Luckily, I only caught a minute or two of the show. By some miracle, my good sense actually kicked in once they cut to commercial and showed their lead in to the next segment, which involved a woman revealing some concerns, saying, "I've never been happy with how my labia looks." Really, how do you react when you hear something like that? You laugh awkwardly and then you change the channel. That's how.


I don't know about you, but I'm going to cry myself to sleep now.

Kings of Comedy

Comedy. One of my favorite things in the entire universe (and that's saying plenty because I am absolutely in love with the Andromeda galaxy). I love good comedy and am obviously bad at it (as proven by my Andromeda galaxy quip), but I can still fully appreciate something that is covered in deliciously crafted humor. However, lately I've noticed a growing trend of collections of "comedians" banding together to form funny man groups. Excuse me, not just groups, but comedy royalty.


This strange phenomenon all started with the "Original Kings of Comedy", which consisted of Bernie Mac, Steve Harvey, Cedric the Entertainer and D.L. Hughley. Now, when these guys first hit the scene as a band of stand up comedian brothers, I became confused because I didn't remember electing anything comedy related in the last election. Then I looked at their title again. Kings of Comedy. Not the presidents or ambassadors of comedy, but the kings. Then I wondered, "Whoa...did Richard Pryor die and split his kingdom up amongst these four? And if so, why the hell is it not on the news?" After hours of extensive research* I found that not only was Richard Pryor still alive, but these four goons were not bequeathed this title by anyone but themselves. Naming yourself a king of anything is just foolish and will meet you with much dissent and anger, much like when I declared myself king of my neighbor's backyard and ruled with an iron fist and tree branch scepter while basking in royal glory from my lawn chair throne. I begged them to at least let me keep the tree branch, but they just gave me an annoyed look and threw me out. But back to subject at hand, it's bad enough when people give themselves nicknames and then become hopelessly confused when you try to explain to them that it doesn't work that way. But, to bestow upon yourself a title of such authority without clear reason? That's just asking to be hated.


After gathering my thoughts and wondering if it was an opportune time to insist that my friends begin to refer to me as "Asskick Musclethorpe: Supreme Lord of Comedy and All Things Awesome, Sexy and Totally Cool", I began to wonder if maybe I was just jealous and that these men actually had a divine mandate to rule over the kingdom of funny. At that point, I was fairly familiar with the acts of Steve Harvey and D.L. Hughely, knew that Bernie Mac was somewhat unintelligible and difficult to comprehend and Cedric the Entertainer enjoyed...um, entertaining...and...uh...fedoras. What I did know about the self-proclaimed kings wasn't very impressive to me, as it seemed like your typical, bland racial commentary through observational style jokes. Basically, it seemed to be just a few varieties of your regular "Do you notice when black people ________? When white people do ___________, it's more like ____________! Ha! White people crazy!" Not that there's something inherently wrong with observational humor, but when it's been done by a million other comics, I don't think it should be glorified and given a loftier title. Oh wait, D.L. Hughley also does "make fun of people in the crowd" jokes. Oh, D.L.! Where do you come up with this magic? From your royally appointed wizards, perhaps? Every time I've seen him do his act, inevitably he would point out some ridiculously dressed old man in the audience and call him a "broke down pimp", then move on to a woman wearing some kind of animal print and proceed to ask the audience, "Is it the Lion King up in here? ha HA!" Occassionally, and if you're lucky, he'll find someone who is overweight and wearing red and call them the Kool-Aid man. But that deserves credit** because let's be honest, the Kool-Aid man is just....so....Ohhhh Yeaaaahhhhh.


Anyway, I'm sure up to this point I seem like an idiot that's about five years too late on a rant. But, as I mentioned earlier, this act of forming royal families of comedians seems to be a growing trend that I'd like to see replaced by a growing trend of supermodels trying to molest me. Well, it's not technically molesting when you're willing, right? Whatever. The fact of the matter is, someone needs to stop collections of culturally and/or racially homogenous, mediocre comedians from forming with the ostensible purpose of creating multi-headed comedy crapfests.


It should be noted that I realize the Blue Collar Comedy Tour does not have the word "Kings" in their title, but I'm sure that if it didn't go completely against the "we're just good ol' blue collar, poor, country boy rednecks " act, they'd be called the "Kings of Boring Hick Jokes". Also, the "Latin Kings of Comedy" should rename themselves the "Isn't It Funny How In Mexican Families, _________ Happens? Kings".


You know what? I'll be honest, my complaint isn't so much about the fact that all of these talentless, self-promoting pseudocomedians are taking the world of comedy by storm and not helping matters, because there's already an inundation of crappy comedians being spawned by Comedy Central's stand up shows and Last Comic Standing. No, that's not my main gripe with this fad. It's the fact that I want to create my own group, but can't. I sent out notices regarding my desire to form the "Filipino Kings of Comedy" only to find out that there's only one funny Filipino in the world. His name is Mark, he lives in South Carolina and the people who know him aren't sure, but think he's either Puerto Rican, Middle Eastern or Chinese. I also overlooked the fact that I, myself, am not funny, making this endeavor rather daunting. I figure that maybe I can just find a bunch of guys with at least slightly tan skin and see if they can pass as Filipino. That or we can just hold out hope that the audiences we play for don't have any clue what a Filipino is, but are drawn in by the word "King" and "Comedy". Either that, or I can keep the title but form a group of racially diverse people just to confuse and anger everyone.


Wait...wait...yeah, those were terrible ideas.


Anyway, that's really all I have to say about that*** so I'll end it here.




Love,

Asskick Musclethorpe: Supreme Lord of Comedy and All Things Awesome, Sexy and Totally Cool



*by that, I meant 2 minutes on google.com
**no it does not
***I ran out of stupid arbitrary jokes

It Is 4:00 AM and I Have Clearly Lost My Mind

I've always wanted to be a contestant on Jeopardy! It used to be because of the thrill of competing against two other people in a battle of trivial knowledge and proving that I have the ability to dedicate my memory to completely useless facts. But now, things have changed...oh, have they changed.


I no longer want to take part in this game show to reap the rewards of money, semi-celebrity status and awe from my lightning quick buzzer reflexes. Oh, no...now making it onto this show is driven by an entirely different agenda. What agenda, you may ask?


Simply put, to repeatedly kick Alex Trebek in his crotch.


Now, many don't understand why I have such rage directed at this seemingly harmless gameshow host. But, if you watched enough Jeopardy and paid enough attention to the way this pompous Canadian operates, you would completely understand my hate. Well, maybe not my hate, but you'd certainly understand its root.


If I were to join the show, I would take every opportunity to openly mock Trebek for his completely unnecessary enunciating with a French accent by going through an entire show speaking with the most cartoonishly exaggerated French accent in the history of speaking. I would also throw feces at Alex. I'm not sure how well I'll get the point across, but there's no doubt in my mind that it will be hilariously fun. Also, during the unbearably awkward and contrived interview portion following the first commercial break, I would answer Alex's feigned attempt at becoming familiar with me by punching him in the face. I would follow my unexpected jab by throwing more feces. I have yet to plan out where I'm going to get all this feces to throw, but I figure I can tell a couple jokes to the other contestants and make them crap their pants with laughter.


I've come to realize that my plan for total Jeopardy domination is very reminiscent of SNL's Celebrity Jeopardy skits, only Alex is the one being shown as an idiot and instead of poking fun at Sean Connery or Burt Reynolds, there will be lots of gratuitous violence and flying shit. Basically, I will be a bigger ratings draw than ten Ken Jennings combined. Just imagine the promotional teasers being shown all day in between episodes of Oprah and commercials for laundry detergent..."Tonight on Jeopardy: Trivia, Daily Doubles, Incessant Swearing, Verbal and Physical Attacks, Feces and Midgets. Followed by Wheel of Fortune." That reminds me, I also plan to train an army of belligerent midgets to attack Trebek with nunchuks and tire irons.


In all seriousness, I doubt I've ever seen such a condescending and pretentious cock in my entire life. I may or may not be kidding about my desire to throw excrement, physically assault and set fire to Alex Trebek, but I certainly want to kick him in the balls and call him a bitch. But, that's not saying much because I want to do that to pretty much everyone.

A Sign the Apocalypse is Upon Us: Dr. 90210

Well, I'd been meaning to say something about this show for a while now, but my inability to give a shit about myspace has proven to be a hell of an obstacle. But, now that I have a paper to write, it's natural that I seek out something else to do that is completely irrelevant. So, ranting on myspace it is.


Anyway, I was watching some television the other day in an attempt to melt off more sections of my brain. Well, since I'm really delayed in writing this it wasn't the "other day" so much as it was about a month ago. Barely a paragraph into this badboy and I'm already lying to you--sorry.


Anyhow, as I was saying, I was watching a little bit of the TV and I came across this commercial for a show on E! And when I say "on E!" I am referring to the Entertainment channel and not implying that the I was watching TV on ecstacy...though in hindsight, I probably should have at least smoked a little crack before watching to numb the oncoming frustrations. The commercial started with a very "SoCal" graphic, with palm trees, blue skies and sunshine. So, I was drawn in thinking this was some nice show that flaunted the things about Southern California that its inhabitants enjoy and the rest of the world envies. But, ohhh no...this was no show about our beautiful beaches, or our jealousy-inducing weather. In the blink of an eye, onto the screen pops a sleazy looking male wearing a labcoat, followed by the voiceover announcing "On the next Dr. 90210."


For those of you who were like me at that very moment and have never heard of Dr. 90210, I'll give you a quick overview of the show. Dr. 90210 is a shitty reality TV show where plastic surgeons do their dirty work and the producers spin the show into making it seem like they performed a noble act.


Now let's get back to the story, shall we?


The moment "Dr. 90210" made his way onto the screen and I realize the basic premise of the show, I tilted my head ever so slightly and gave the TV my perplexed "What in the fucking hell?" face. I couldn't help but wonder why this network and these producers felt the need to introduce another evil reality TV show to the world. What with the endless catalog of "Date my Mom," "I Want a Famous Face," "The Swan," "Extreme Face Makeover: Pathetic Edition," "Pimp My Ride," "Do Surgery On Me and Make Me a Better Person," "Watch This Show and Feel Your Brain Attempt Suicide," "Watch My Grandfather Get Mauled by a Kodiak Bear," "Make Over My New Pet Kodiak Bear," "Who Wants to Stab Alex Trebek?," "Pimp My Mom and Extremely Make Over Her Face and Make It Famous Then Punch Me Repeatedly In the Crotch," "Survivor," etc., I figured either there were no ideas left, or there were more than enough of these shows and there was no more room for another. Unfortunately, I overestimated mankind again, because apparently there was a public outcry over the lack of awful "reality" TV that does nothing but make people feel ugly. So, the makers of Dr. 90210 came to the rescue.


Now, I realize that all this frustration and anger may seem a bit ridiculous seeing as how this is some lower end show on a dumb cable network. However, only milliseconds after my hate for this show began to brew, they threw me a curveball. They began showing teaser clips for the next episode which was about a mother and daughter getting breast implants together. Before I could begin laughing and crying at the same time, something struck me about the daughter. If I remember correctly, what I immediately said was, "Holy shit, that's Denise Luna!" For those of you who have yet to memorize my life story, first off, shame on you, and secondly, Denise Luna was my classmate back in elementary school. I was almost sure that I was hallucinating, so I decided that it was in my best interest to catch the show when it came on just for the purpose of figuring out if I was losing my mind or not. Not for gratuitous boobies...of course not. Seriously. C'mon what do you think I am, a pervert? You do? Oh...well...ok. But please, don't tell anyone.


A few days later the show was set to air, so I grabbed a bag of chips, a drink and a pair of meat skewers to shove into my eyes for when the moment I realized I was actually watching that stupid show. The moment of truth arrived when Denise and her mother introduced themselves from the front yard of Denise's house. I knew without a doubt this was the same Denise, because after graduating from elementary school Denise held a party at her house and the very spot where the two ladies were standing was where I frolicked about in an above ground pool several years ago. Another interesting tidbit from the show was when the little girl whom I assumed was Denise's little sister turned out to be her daughter. Chalk up another tally on the "Shalom is a naive fool" board.


The rest of the show is a bit blurry in my memory, as it's been about a month since I saw it and watching that particular episode almost certainly crippled the part of my brain responsible for memory. But, from what I do remember, the sleazy looking doctor held a meeting with Denise and her mother about how much bigger they wanted their breasts to be. Apparently Denise's mother already had a boob job done, but something went wrong so they ended up uneven...so naturally, she went in to make them bigger. Before I knew it, the "doctor" had the two topless as he scribbled random lines all over their naked torsos with a sharpie. I was hoping he'd start up a game of tic-tac-toe, but I guess that would have been slightly unprofessional of him.


More chunks of the show are missing in my mind, but my guess is that that's a good thing. Next thing I remember, Denise and her mother are in gowns for pre-op procedures. During this time, Denise went behind her mother's back and told Dr. 90210 that she wanted to "go bigger" on the implants. The doctor replied, "Good, because the bigger your boobs are, the better a person you are." Ok, that's not true, but you know that's what he wanted to say...or what I wanted him to say, anyway. While in the operating room, the doctor creepily commented over and over how "cute" he found Denise to be. I suppose such comments from him wouldn't so bad in normal situations, but to announce this while you're poking, prodding and sticking things into her boobs? Not to mention the fact that you just recently knocked her unconscious with drugs? C'mon, man. Strangely funny...but, c'mon, that's just weird.


They then cut to the mother, who voiced her concerns over her daughter, saying that her motherly instincts were coming out and she just wanted to make sure Denise was ok. The irony of that entire situation made me laugh so hard I nearly passed out. It didn't help that I was also tickling myself with a feather at the same time. Don't judge, that's just how I like to watch TV.


The rest of the show really isn't even worth mentioning, because it basically consisted of more gratuitous but blurred out nudity featuring a girl I used to play kickball with and her mother. However, the show ended with the two taking a salsa dancing class, where Denise's mother cleverly said, "C'mon Denise, shake what your mama gave you!" Hahahahaha, she's referring to the breasts she bought for her daughter, and not the ones passed on through genetics! Hahahahahaha, oh the clever wit is suffocating me! By the beard of Zeus, I can't stop laughing! Hahahahahaha--I believe this is around the time where I shoved those meat skewers into my eyes and started screaming so psychotically that the neighbors called the police and fire department thinking I was either being beaten to death or the house and I were on fire or both.


I'll end this by saying again that I have no doubt that reality TV is a concept thought up in a meeting room deep within the fiery pits of hell. I also know that plastic surgery can help certain people in really dire situations, but I'd be willing to bet that the vast majority of work done by plastic surgeons is completely useless. These people call themselves "doctors", yet all they seem to do is transform perfectly normal, and oftentimes naturally good-looking people into walking, talking cartoon characters. Last I checked, there were still plenty of sick people in the world and diseases yet to be cured or even treated. But, instead of advancing the cause of medicine and health, as I once assumed doctors were supposed to do, these guys are exploiting the insecurities of people and giving them a false sense of contentment by surgically inserting a hackey sack full of jell-o into their chests or injecting their face with Botox, which erases wrinkles with the minor side effect of also erasing facial emotion., et cetera, et cetera.


With that said, I must depart. I have a meeting with a doctor, and we are going to discuss surgically removing the dangerous amounts of awesome I have throughout my entire body. While I'm at it, I'll ask him to throw in a face lift, a pair of Wolverine-like retractable, adamantium claws, and maybe some genitals.


Shalom, over and out.