You just made my list!

Goodbye, turds.

No, you are not turds. Well, some of you are. Wait, when I really think about it, I have dealt with an incredible amount of turds and turd-related activities on this website. To be honest though, it was those turds who got me out of bed each morning. I LOVE all the hate mail that continues to pour in every day, it truly does make my day. I salute you, turds!

But where does that leave you, the non-turd? Well, I love you even more. Yes, even I have the ability to love.

If I may be human for one brief moment, I really have loved hearing from all of you over the last few years but the reality is that I simply do not have the time or energy to continue writing. You may not be able to tell from my past writing, but I actually really put effort into this site and I don’t want to continue unless I feel I can give it my best effort.

“Fuck you Listy, how hard can it be to rant about Guy Fieri?!?”

What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea how much vomit I choked down over the past 3 years while writing about powerful enemies like Guy Fieri, Miracle Whip and corn? Holy shit, I just realized something, if Guy Fieri has a recipe that involves slathering corn on the cob with Miracle Whip I might have to kill myself.

Back to the point… Dedicating 5 nights a week to my genius opinions was taxing but I did it for you, the little people. And WOW, was I good at it! Not to mention, all the hilarious writing I did (and continue to do) in the comments. I really am great, just like you guys always tell me. I’m high-fiving myself. Now I’m taking off my shirt and karate kicking the air while singing a Kid Rock song. I don’t know if it’s a real Kid Rock song but when I sing about America, tits and eagles I just assume it’s probably one of his songs.

So, as much as I hate to say it, I think it’s time for me to close up shop. It feels weird to make it official but all moderately good things must eventually fizzle and die a slow, forgetful death. Like Aerosmith.

I’m trying to find just the right words to sign off with. Something sincere, poignant and heartfelt. Perhaps I will simply say this…

Everything is the worst.

Goodbye.

Hey ladies, do you want a new car? Of course you do. You could work hard, save your money and buy yourself a new car but who has the energy for that bullshit? Why don’t you do it the Mama Gena way and get your husband to buy you a new car. All you have to do is whore it up a little and that new PT Cruiser will be sitting in your driveway before you can say “low self esteem!” Now, when I say act like a whore I’m not talking about simply getting a little kinky in the bedroom, I mean literally be a whore and trade sex for objects, because after all, isn’t that what a healthy relationship is all about. PREACH SISTER GODDESS!

Have you ever seen a mom, perhaps your own, drink a few too many glasses of white wine (with ice) and attempt to skateboard? It inevitably ends with her splayed out on the driveway with her skirt over her head, laughing maniacally while everyone else just stares and feels embarrassed on her behalf. Mama Gena’s pathetic antics are not even CLOSE to being that cool.

For the low low price of $4,750 (you know, that makes a decent down payment on a new car) Mama Gena will help you find your inner vapid bimbo. Oh, it’s worth it, just watch her describe the complex art of “sexy” hand holding in the clip below and you’ll see she really knows her stuff. It’s like watching a virgin describe how to give a blowjob. I should also mention that the virgin is your sister and she’s demonstrating on your dad’s finger.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Well, it’s official, the universe will implode on February 5th, 2011 at 11:30 Eastern Standard Time.

The earth will rip apart and just as the molten goo from the center of our planet begins to melt your skin off, you will have just enough time to reflect on all the time you wasted carefully placing 20 pillows on your bed every morning. You will beg God for another chance to live life to the fullest but your screaming prayers will go unanswered, because the instant Dana Carvey and Linkin Park share the Saturday Night Live stage, heaven will be the first thing to explode. Poof… no more God. Satan is calling the shots now, pal. It’s over.

I already know that I’m the only person who cares about this so feel free to discuss any topic of your choice. I don’t care, It’s my list and I am sticking to my boring topic. Blogging fever, CATCH IT!

Dear Music Video Director Jerks,

Can you hear the slow clap I am currently performing in your honor? It’s so slow that my first clap occurred on March 15th, 1993 and the next scheduled clap will take place on August 3rd of this year. This slow clap is so fucking epic that I don’t anticipate the pace to pick up to its unstoppable fast clap ending until the year 2051. I have planned the culmination of my slow clap to coincide with the 100 year anniversary* of the microphone you love to use in every music video since the birth of MTV in the early 80s.

I get it, you think the Shure 55 series mics have more “presence” on film and make the singer look “sexy” when they inevitably wrap their hands around the mic and press their disease-ridden mouths up against it, but maybe it’s time to move on to the next cliché. Hey, it’s OK, don’t cry! I’m sure if we work together we can find some untapped cliché to exploit. How about singers singing into giant, realistic dildos? If Justin Bieber was singing into a big, veiny rubber cock I might actually start watching music videos again.

So let’s just put the wacky 50s microphones away and move on to big rubber dicks.

Thank you in advance.

Sincerely,
Listy

*I think it’s about 100 years. If I’m wrong I don’t need some microphone nerd telling me otherwise.

For the record, I had no idea if this Creed video actually used a Shure 55 microphone but I had a feeling. I was right. I’m always right.

Also for the record, I had no idea if any Alice in Chains videos used this mic but, once again, I was right. I should also point out that this song rules.

Is it wrong to want to hurt children?

Am I a bad person for fantasizing about punching these tiny turds (girls included) square in the face? It seems like maybe that’s wrong somehow.

The basic premise is “music sung by kids, for kids,” but why? If you want your kids to listen to shitty music why not just let them listen to the original shitty versions? I PROMISE you Train’s version of “Hey Soul Sister” is adequately filled with shit and gains nothing by being performed by shitty theater brats with shit-eating grins on their shitty faces. SHIT! Just think of the sound of all their little teeth hitting the floor.

Here’s an idea… let your kids listen to real music! This is your opportunity as a parent to cram some good taste down their throats. Kids, or kidz, can comprehend and enjoy music sung by adults. Listening to Kidz Bop is like taking your child to a 9-year-old dentist.

On a side note, while researching Kidz Bop (PAINFUL) I discovered these hair-dos. Maybe they are famous? Stereo Skyline, anyone? I am speechless.

Sad. Look at your long, luxurious silken mane! Tell me young man, are you a model for romance novels? I honestly thought for a second that you were Fabio. Seriously, I’m not kidding, I saw you and… OH MY GOD, YOU’RE BALD! MY EYES! I WAS SO DISTRACTED BY YOUR BEAUTIFUL PONYTAIL THAT I HADN’T NOTICED! IT BURNS! Come on pal, do you really think those last few tragic strands of hair clinging for life on the back of your head are enough to distract from the polished orb that sits just above? I know you desperately want to tell the world “I’m fun! I own Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits!” but maybe it’s time to throw in the hair towel and admit that Mother Nature is kicking your head’s ass. I know you have a bit of a “rep” to maintain at the shoelace factory but maybe it’s time to let that new guy in shipping be the “cool, easy-going rock dude” for a while. Nothing wrong with being bald, right? Maybe if you shave your head you will acquire an LL Cool J vibe, or better yet Bruce Willis! There, now we’re talking, you want to be the new Bruce Willis in the neighborhood? I’ll make you a deal, cut off that feeble tail, bury it in backyard and I will buy you a harmonica. I think Bruce Willis said it best… respect yourself.

When will it end?

I have been waiting for Jon Bon Jovi and his hair to go away since 1987 but somehow, like a bland zombie, he keeps eating my brains.

WAIT! STOP! Fight that urge to tell me that 80s Bon Jovi is “awesome” because “Livin’ On A Prayer” sucked then and it continues to exponentially suck now.

“But what about ‘Wanted Dead or Alive?'” you ask. It is true that riding on a steel horse and leaving no face un-rocked has a certain je ne sais quoi but, much like what we see with the Areosmith formula, any awesomeness found within “Wanted Dead or Alive” is erased by 20+ years of faces being sprayed with the shit that spews from this ass’s ass.

The summer before my senior year of high school I was super in love with this mysterious girl who moved to my town from another state, a Bon Jovi loving state. When I discovered she was a huge Jovi fan and not a fan of the flawlessly awesome music I listened to, I had to cut her loose.* Sorry baby, I’ve seen a million faces…

*She dumped me.

Have you seen the new video for “The Kill” by “30 Seconds to Mars,” Jared Leto’s shit emo band? Of course you haven’t because you aren’t a 13-year-old girl. The premise is basically this… Jared Leto and his band check into a hotel with 10 suitcases of eyeliner and a desire to shit all over Kubrick’s “The Shining.” Then some screaming and intense glaring at the camera happens. Oh yeah, then Jared Leto fucks Jared Leto in a hallway.