Oct 20 2010
God, for killing Barbara Billingsley and Tom Bosley!
You proud of yourself, God? I bet you think you are king of the fucking universe right now, don't you? All high and mighty, sitting up there on your cloud, killing two beloved TV parents in the same week. As Christian Bale says, "OH, GOOD FOR YOU!"
Well you finally did it, you made Wally and Beaver orphans. I know you have been dreaming of this day for a long time and now you can kick up your old man feet on some stupid cloud La-Z-Boy® recliner that's made out of clouds and smells like clouds and give yourself a nice slow clap. I watched "Leave it to Beaver" every day after Junior High so I can't help but think some of this was aimed at hurting me.
Let me get this straight, God... Guy Fieri gets to wake up tomorrow and put on his favorite flame-covered bowling shirt but June fucking Cleaver is six feet under? Yeah yeah, don't give me this "she was 94 years old" bullshit, you're God, give unto her the ability to live forever! Dick.
Barbara Billingsley being awesome
And then this shit happens...
Sunday, Monday, Happy Days.
Tuesday, kill Mr. Cunningham?
What's wrong with you? Tom Bosley was Father Dowling, A FUCKING PRIEST, for your son's sake. Were you jealous that Bosley was on pretty much every classic TV show ever... Car 54 Where Are you, Get Smart, The Mod Squad, Bewitched, Mission: Impossible, Maude, The Paul Lynde Show, Love Boat, Happy Fucking Days, Touched by an Angel!?!
You wish your resume was that strong, God. Let's see, what have YOU done with your life? You created the Earth 6,000 years ago. BFD! I entered a video in Madonna's "Make My Video" contest on MTV in 1986 and they fucking played it on the air, TWICE, and said my name, but you don't see me going around bragging about it every two seconds.
Let me see if I understand this... Mr. C. is dead but right now, as we speak, Guy Fieri is buying a totally "money" belt buckle that looks like dice? It just doesn't add up.
I realize this Happy Days intro is from the time period when the show sucked and it started to look like the 80s even though it was still the 50s and Fonzie was a teacher or something, but I wanted you to see the super douche move that occurs at the 0:49 mark. Watch closely.
Well you finally did it, you made Wally and Beaver orphans. I know you have been dreaming of this day for a long time and now you can kick up your old man feet on some stupid cloud La-Z-Boy® recliner that's made out of clouds and smells like clouds and give yourself a nice slow clap. I watched "Leave it to Beaver" every day after Junior High so I can't help but think some of this was aimed at hurting me.
Let me get this straight, God... Guy Fieri gets to wake up tomorrow and put on his favorite flame-covered bowling shirt but June fucking Cleaver is six feet under? Yeah yeah, don't give me this "she was 94 years old" bullshit, you're God, give unto her the ability to live forever! Dick.
Barbara Billingsley being awesome
And then this shit happens...
Sunday, Monday, Happy Days.
Tuesday, kill Mr. Cunningham?
What's wrong with you? Tom Bosley was Father Dowling, A FUCKING PRIEST, for your son's sake. Were you jealous that Bosley was on pretty much every classic TV show ever... Car 54 Where Are you, Get Smart, The Mod Squad, Bewitched, Mission: Impossible, Maude, The Paul Lynde Show, Love Boat, Happy Fucking Days, Touched by an Angel!?!
You wish your resume was that strong, God. Let's see, what have YOU done with your life? You created the Earth 6,000 years ago. BFD! I entered a video in Madonna's "Make My Video" contest on MTV in 1986 and they fucking played it on the air, TWICE, and said my name, but you don't see me going around bragging about it every two seconds.
Let me see if I understand this... Mr. C. is dead but right now, as we speak, Guy Fieri is buying a totally "money" belt buckle that looks like dice? It just doesn't add up.
I realize this Happy Days intro is from the time period when the show sucked and it started to look like the 80s even though it was still the 50s and Fonzie was a teacher or something, but I wanted you to see the super douche move that occurs at the 0:49 mark. Watch closely.
Sorry, worked late.
Want to know what to get me for Christmas? Just ask me to open a jar for you.
Nothing makes me happier than to hear "Can you open this jar for me?" You might as well have just asked me if I want to have a threesome, it's that awesome.
There are so few chances in modern society to prove your dominance (I mean worth) as a man and, sadly, opening a jar for a female in distress is just about all that is left. Helping the cute girl in the office figure out how to add clip art to her PowerPoint presentation doesn't quite give me the boner that opening a jar does. In my mind, hearing that little lid pop is not unlike killing a water buffalo with my bare hands.
This activity does not come without pitfalls however. As I approach my prey there's always that nagging thought in the back of my mind saying "What if this is the jar I can't open?" Luckily for you girls I will work a jar lid until my hands bleed, I will never give up and I will never fail. Yeah that's right, if Hulk Hogan and Clint Eastwood had a baby and it was eaten by a gorilla, I would be that gorilla.
FYI, ask me to get something down from a high shelf and there's a 98% chance we will be making love right there on the kitchen floor.
This is going to be a short rant for 2 reasons.
1) I spent the day in a 5 hour meeting. The kind of meeting where you aren't the person doing any talking so all you do is sit there and conjure up the sickest sexual fantasies you can involving the women attending the meeting. Then someone finally turns to you and says, "What do you think?" and you blurt out "Baby oil!"
2) Does anyone really care what I have to say about anything?
3) I'm just kidding, I know I am worshiped by many.
4) I was going to write about Giada de Laurentiis and her crazy psycho smile but while looking for photos of her I realized I'm too hypnotized by her cleavage to say anything negative about her. "Baby oil!"
5) Finally, what can really be said about these people? Learn how wide your car is jackass. Should this bother me? Does it actually affect my life in any way? The answer is obviously yes. I hate these people! I also hate people who have no idea where their front bumper is and will cause me to die a slow death behind them in traffic because they REFUSE to simply turn their steering wheel and go around whatever obstacle is in their (our) way. It bothers me. A lot of things bother me.
Oh boy, I'm ready for the hate mail to pour in on this one. "You're a jerk and you live in your mom's basement and these dolls are beautiful and you're just jealous that nobody ever loved you, I hope you never have kids, blah blah blah." There I just saved you all that time.
I'm forced to write this while sitting on the toilet because it's impossible to look at these creepy dolls without shitting at least a tiny bit. I should have warned you! I'm sorry you now have poop-filled pants.
OK, this shit is fucked up! First of all, these dolls are referred to as "Reborn Babies" and there's a whole subculture of insane psychopaths buying and making these creepy plastic monsters. The process of making a realistic baby doll is known as "reborning" or "newborning" and it usually takes place in the darkest corner of Hell. Even Satan is like "Um... yeah, I'm going to go see what Hitler and Dahmer are up to for a few hours while you gals finish up... um... whatever it is exactly that... uh, you're doing over there." Then the great beast slowly backs out of the room timidly.
At least that's how I imagine it.
Yikes...
Guess what? This post is going to suck it hard because it's late and I'm lazy. You see, I actually had to prepare a bunch of stuff tonight for a workshop I was asked to teach about blogging. I know, RIGHT? I am so fucking awesome! I'm going to make the world's worst/best Power Point presentation for this thing, I can't wait. I need to track down a corduroy jacket with elbow patches ASAP!
So anyway... let's talk a little bit about ripped up designer jeans. They are ridiculous. Can I just say that and go to bed?
Why do people want to walk around like they were just attacked by fucking piranhas? And why do they want to pay handsomely for that privilege? When did it become cool to look homeless? Sorry bro, it doesn't make you look edgy, it just makes you look like you were dragged behind a tractor. Ahhhhh, let me hold onto that image for a while.
The people who wear this nonsense seriously need to get their shit together and think about doing something important with their lives, like teaching blogging workshops. As a professor of blogging, I have superior intelligence and can tell you, without question, that these inconsequential simpletons know not of their own deplorable demeanor. The French have a saying, "Votre pantalon est chié" which means, "Your pants are shit." At least that's what Babel Fish says.
So, I'm watching "Check Please" on PBS, trying to fight the urge to 
Are you understanding the severity of the situation here? Networks are starting to pop up ads for crap DURING shows. What the hell is this, YouTube? And what kind of a psycho, anti-American, son-of-a-bitch has the balls to interrupt the brilliant pacing and comedy magic that oozes from every episode of Friends?
I feel like punching a baby!
