Rick Perry Is Coming . . .

My love affair with Rick Perry continues...

Daily Demotivations

Check out what you've been missing! I think you are a little too proactive and energetic so I added a demotivational page to knock you down a peg or two.

FRIGHT NIGHT - The Least Offensive Movie Review

What is Fright Night? What exactly is supposed to be so frightening about it? Do we really need another emo, glittering vampire movie? No, we don't, and luckily Fright Night doesn't give it to us. This vampire certainly does not  care about your stupid human feelings - I was pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, if this is not the role that Colin Farrell was born to play then I'm a jackass: hunky, suburban, working class Joe who moonlights as a serial rapist. He saunters freely around people's houses leering at moms and underaged teens alike, smiling and exuding the kind of confidence that a frat boy displays once you start feeling the roofies. There is just something about Colin Farrell that absolutely screams out: "I'm a rapist!" and what fantastic work on behalf of the casting director to tap into that natural rapey energy for this villainous role.

To fulfill his unholy desires, Jerry, the handy, do-it-yourself vampire in Fright Night, constructed his own impressive modern and innovative take on the classic rape dungeon. It's a rape dungeon in function, but in appearance it is merely the second floor of his inconspicuous suburban home. And staying under the radar isn't the only thing it has going for it! The sturdy framework, clean sheetrocking, and secure design really showed that Jerry  studied and honed his loathsome craft seriously over the past 400 years.  Though Bob Villa certainly is not a vampire rapist, he could appreciate the efficient, clean work of Jerry's little upstairs project.

And do you know how hard it is for a vampire to make a trip to Home Depot? Oh my God! First of all, he had to wait for winter so that it gets dark before they close, then, once inside, he was surrounded by tons deliciously retarded people that he couldn't eat. Willpower alert! Seriously, who at home depot knows their ass from their elbow, let alone a dovetail from a lap joint? When you're a serious rape dungeon craftsman, like Jerry, it must be absolutely infuriating to watch these foolish humans bungle their hard and softwoods. And who would ever miss them? Some degenerate, half-wit selling paint isn't going to be missed, that's for sure. He needs to be eaten! Spill that blood! NO! That's where Jerry's true dedication to the craft takes over. Despite his near overwhelming urge to devour everyone at Home Depot, Jerry withholds gratification, politely pays for his lumber, sheetrock, and screws, and goes home to build the most awesome suburban rape dungeon in Nevada.

Now, Jerry isn't just a one dimensional rapist. He's not just a "invite them over and imprison them in my rape dungeon" rapist; where's the challenge in that? Only a stripper would fall for that, and I'm not even sure they count. No, he's gotta a go bigger, more ambitious. A real proactive raper. Jerry brings his raping skills to the club where he is considerably aided in his pursuits by his super hunky exterior and his ability to move swiftly and cling to ceilings with superhuman ability. As if super hunky wasn't enough! P'shaw! And if that isn't proof that this guy is the wonderkin of raping, his blood is like pure GHB! The date rape drug! Crazy! I know! Just one taste and women fall in to a easily manipulable stupor. If some raging frat boy was bitten by a radioactive, rapist spider, you'd have Jerry; and if that radioactive frat boy moved next door to you, then you'd be in Fright Night!

Daily Demotivations

THE ONION - Fake News, Real Ads

Brian Cridge, head of online advertising

The Onion has started charging for access to its site. As justification for this move, the online fake news source sited the rising costs of paper, printing presses, gasoline, and other archaic operational costs, as having an adverse effect on the production and distribution chain. Also, The Onion simply could not fit enough ads for the new Scion tC on every page, or make them big enough, to support continued free access. Brian Cridge, head of online advertising, expressed his frustrations at not being able to fill 100% of the The Onion with ads for the sporty and customizable Scion tC. He was also disappointed that he could not rename The Onion, The Scion tC. "You know, if these fake journalists would take their heads out of the clouds, I could make this rig a shit ton of money. These fake journalists think their fake news is so important? How does fake news pay the bills? I'll see those assholes in line at the soup kitchen while I roll by in my pimped out Scion tC with the 4-piece aero kit. Cha-ching!"

Sheri Nugal, online delivery team lead

It is unclear how an audience who is accustomed to reading and sharing fake news stories freely will react to paying for their fake news content. Sheri Nugal, The Onion's online delivery team lead, defended the move by pointing out that people on the internet have a long, documented history of wanting to pay for information that's on the internet. “We’ll be fine,” the team lead confidently stated, “just fine.” With the ability to freely share articles, The Onion has grown tremendously through social networking; however, by inserting gatekeepers and restricted access to those same articles, The Onion hopes to maintain its social media momentum through the power of ancient magic and praying.

Ultimately, the move towards a pay-site makes sense because The Onion provides a valuable service not offered anywhere else on the internet. Known for its factual and truthful nature, the internet has yet to deliver another reliable source for things that are fake and entertaining that could rival The Onion. In this environment of primacy, The Onion's move stands as a bold one sure to corner the "stuff on the internet that is fake, mildly amusing, and easy to share because it is free, but now you have to pay for it instead of just finding one of a myriad of free alternatives" market. Bold indeed.

RICK PERRY VS ELI PORTER - IDIOT SHOWDOWN!

VOTING FOR THE IDIOT SHOWDOWN HAS CLOSED. THE WINNER IS RICK PERRY. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU IDIOT.


FIRST OF ALL, let's get something straight-what is in an idiot? We all are. Everyone. In life we all go to great lengths to extend ourselves beyond our limits, and this is how we learn and grow, but this is also how we get caught out looking like dicks. Sometimes things don't even have to be that far away to be beyond our reach. If you've ever been holding a stack of folders filled with loose paper and a mug full of coffee while trying to 3-hole punch a TPS report and you refuse to set anything down on the nearby table because "this will just take a second"—you are an idiot. If you've ever driven an manual transmission through traffic with a whole banana cream pie on your  lap while you scoop at it with a fork in one hand, shift with your other hand, work the clutch with one leg, and steer with the other knee— you are an idiot. You see, it doesn't take much to be an idiot and life certainly presents enough opportunities, which we are happy to oblige. Even though it is undoubtedly easier for some, being an idiot is natural for all. 


As a species we continually alternate through states of genius and idiocy, but these are really just branches of the same tree. We reach beyond our grasp, we push the limits, and when we succeed we are geniuses; when we reach too far and blunder face first  into the concrete wall of our limits, we end up as the idiot. Yes, that next line that will make our rap go off the hook is simply one line too many and the logic that will justify our seemingly irrational beliefs slips so easily between our fingers. When we painfully and publicly stumble over the hurdles of our own limits, there is only one thing left to do: stare bewildered into the camera of life and blurt out, “I’m the best mayne, I deed it!” Then pause, stuttering to cover or staring blankly until the awkwardness is too painful and life has to look away. In that moment, you really deed it, mayne. 


So, embrace your inner idiot, because, you know what? You’re stuck with it.

THE SHOWDOWN


I love idiots, all kinds, and, believe me, we can smell our own kind. With so many idiots to choose from we must undertake the unenviable task of finding the best and brightest idiot star amongst the idiot galaxies. 

Fighting out of the red corner, we have the governor of Texas, a handsome gentleman with the mind of a child and the arsenal of a man. Don't bother with a condom because it's Rick Perry!

Fighting out of the blue corner, we have some bewildered, impossibly incoherent rapper making his debut on public access cable. Check your dental because here comes Eli Porter! 

The criteria for deciding this epic battle is your own, devise and algorithm, read some tea leaves, spin the bottle, or whatever it takes. No matter who wins or loses, we all win . . . and lose. Truly, if there was ever something that mattered less, it couldn't possibly exist.

Did I stutter? No? Well, someone will. Let the painful awkwardness begin!

"Abstinance worked for me . . . uh . . . I'm the best mayne... I deed it"

Dr. Phil Approves Tips For A Healthy, Positive Life!

Guess who read my article, 5 Essential Tips For Enjoying A Healthy, Positive Life!
Dr. Phil! Yes, that's right, Dr. Phil was so impressed with my tips and insight that he took the time to hand write a letter to me expressing his appreciation.

 Wow! Dr. Phil, despite what everyone says, you are still the best!

5 Essential Tips For Enjoying A Healthy, Positive Life!

Life is awful. It really is. People who tell you otherwise are on drugs or fucking the neighbor's wife, and the only reason they are doing either one of those things is to escape how awful life is. Some people have called me a pessimist... that's not true. I'm really an upbeat kinda guy, it just so happens that the stuff I'm upbeat about is really negative and depressing. That's not really my fault, is it? That's your problem... goddamn labels.

So, FYI, now my mom is bangin' some new dude. She told me that I should meet him. Oh really? Apparently, he's smart, a writer, and an artist. We have so much in common! And this is good to know: that the dude my mom is bangin' is just like her son, me. That's healthy. Why would I have issues?

You are supposed to want what makes other people happy, especially the ones you love, but no one puts that to the test more than the one's you love. No one knows how to stretch the boundaries of human generosity and kindness like loved ones. It's like, while you thought you were merely spending gay 'ol times together, they were really studying and probing your every weakness so that they could strike with pinpoint precision and swiftly excise your tender, human soul at their earliest convenience.

Family is possibly the worst. They grew up with you, they raised you. Not only do they know your weaknesses, they made your weaknesses. Yes, through years of mental manipulation and neglect, it's like they've programed a "back door into the system" and they can just crash that muthafucka whenever they please. TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE! There's a lot of movies about superheroes, but, you know what? If you've ever been to a family holiday, Easter, Thanksgiving, or, Lord have mercy, Christmas, and you made it until the very end without losing your shit... that's a real superpower. Every year you don't punch a sibling or tell your insane aunt just how fucking insane she really is, you are a superhero.

And in the end, sometimes it's the things you don't do that show how much you care.

Top 5 tips for staying upbeat and positive while your loved ones try to destroy your soul:

• Drugs. Lots of them.

•  NyQuil. We love you, you giant fucking Q. 

• Hooker Role Play. Nothing lets off that anger quicker that taking it out on a hooker. Seriously, dress 'em up like someone you despise, knock 'em around, tie 'em up, whip the shit out of 'em (all of this is extra, by the way). You know those people you hate and think: "fuck 'em!" Well, you can, literally.

• Food. There is a reason why there are so many morbidly obese people, because even though food isn't love, it's pretty damn close. And, you know what? There isn't really a lot of love going around, so guess what? We've got a lot of fatties. Don't hate, there are certainly worse things to fill that void in your soul with than chicken nuggets and Sarah Lee frozen cheese cake. Nom noms!

•  Fire. Yes, setting fire to things can be extremely gratifying. I recommend starting out small and as people fail to take notice of your obsession, go progressively bigger. Once you experience the thrill of getting away with your first arson, you'll be hooked!

RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES - THE EXCLUSIVE PNI INTERVIEW

Rise of the Planet of the Apes, like a warm, pillowy, ball of dough under the care and attention of a master baker, has risen. RotPotA is a spellbinding romp through the ultimate "what if?" scenario: what if John Lithgow found work again? Pure genius is the answer. I wondered what 'ol Johnny boy had been up to for the last decade, and apparently he was deeply imbedded in a retirement home for Alzheimer's patients doing research for his role as an Alzheimer's patient who should be in a retirement home. The years of careful study certainly paid of because his off-beat, absent-minded weirdness was unlike any of the off-beat, absent-minded weirdness he has become known for. Nailed it. That, folks, is what we in the business like to call acting.

The following is a transcript of my exclusive interview with Mr. John Lithgow:

Me: John, thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us today.

John: My pleasure.

I only wish that the whole movie could have been focused on John Lithgow and his wacky hijinks, but instead they had to muddle the whole story by involving some apes. See, the problem with the apes is it just confused the hell out of me, emotionally. With Lithgow, at least I know where I stand, I want him to overcome his adversity, beat the odds, and make it out OK. In short, I know who's team I'm on, Team Lithgow. Now, you throw in all this monkey business and all of a sudden I don't know who's team I'm on or even what game I'm playing. The main monkey, Caesar, is amazing, his experience is so powerful, and his plight so relateable that I can't help but identify and attach myself emotionally to his journey, which is fine until he leads a revolution against the humans! That's my species! Nooooooo! My childlike moral compass can't handle it!

I continually found myself rooting for Caesar and his pals to go 187 on a muthafuckin' cop. Wait! I don't mean that! When that mean looking monkey was facing down that black guy in the downed helicopter, something deep inside said "do it." No! That's a lie! I felt real, genuine joy as Caesar and company broke through the human ranks and made it to freedom amongst the redwoods. Jesus Christ! I am a monkey lover!

For shame!

As a human myself, how could I allow myself to get so close to the enemy? What sort of monkey magic possessed me and won me over, heart and mind? I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive myself or fit back into human society again. I don't fit in as a human because I am too ape, and I don't fit in with apes because I am too human. Oh, what cruel fate. You damned dirty apes . . . I love you.

Also, I'd like to add: fuckin' Malfoy.

Move all my shares into banana futures . . . Yeah, that's right, fuckin' Bananas!

GOD'S BLOG - Proppers!

Obviously, I write this stuff in a terrible voice and sometimes it's so bad it scares me, but just because I hate what I do doesn't mean that I don't appreciate people who do it so much better. I really am glad that someone is able to get it right. I'm truly envious, but don't worry, I won't cut off his wife's head (that's a Se7en reference, I'm not actually psychotic).


This is how it's done:
http://www.newyorker.com/humor/2011/08/08/110808sh_shouts_simms

COWBOYS AND ALIENS - WORST MOVIE REVIEW EVER WRITTEN!

Cowboys and Aliens, this is the big climactic action scene.

Cowboys and Aliens? A vague title including two seemingly dissonant factions  -  the first: real, rugged, and the largest demographic of Ford truck owners; the other: a fevered, often violating, pubescent dream of kids who enjoy math. What’s not to like? Everyone gets equal service, the same, equal, awful service.  I’m a big fan of Favreau and the way his name rolls off my tongue, but I have a feeling he has pushed the limits of how much alcohol I need to consume to enjoy his movies. Iron Man 1, I could enjoy sober. Iron Man 2, I needed a couple gin shots with brewsky chasers. Cowboys and Aliens, I shotgunned a pint of absynthe and spent the last half of the movie blind and having a conversation with the Planters Peanuts guy. To enjoy Favreau’s next movie I’ll have to inject Everclear directly into my veins and spend the next five years in a coma. I'm coming home Mr. Peanut!

With such an all-star cast, how did it all go so horribly wrong? Fresh off of her Italian holiday, is there a hotter starlet than Olivia Wilde? After his complicity in the rape of Indiana Jones, was there anyone we wanted to see redeemed more than Harrison Ford? Since he is my idol, is there anyone on Earth we would rather be than Daniel Craig? I don’t know the answer to the first two questions, but the last one is a resounding “NO!” In addition to hot abs,  Daniel Craig has brought a conflicted, complex, and nuanced approach to his roles as good and bad characters alike in movies like Casino Royale and Layer Cake. He just simmers in every role, ready to burn anyone foolish enough to get too close. Nobody is a bigger fan than me. I wonder what he smells like? Plus, he recently married Rachel Weisz – my total Hollywood dream babe! OMG! It’s like me and Daniel are living the dream, together, as one! I want to live inside of him and wear his skin and walk around in it and make love to his beautiful wife in it. We are like one entity, me and DC. Nobody can keep us apart... NOBODY!

Anyway, why do aliens always get right up in people’s faces and scream? That’s stupid. If I’m an alien and I’ve traveled billions of star-miles to get to Earth and when I finally get close to a human all I can think of is to get right in his face and scream some unintelligible shit? I don’t think so. What in the hell were those alien’s doing for all the star-years it took to get here? I don’t drive to work without thinking about what I’m going to say at my morning meeting. I don't just show up and start screaming in my secretary’s face. If I were traveling to an alien planet and I had many star-years to get there, I would totally think of something really awesome and witty to say. Although, I’ll bet that when I got to the alien planet I’d watch one of their movies and it would be about some idiot human screaming in an alien’s face. I guess that’s life . . . star-life. Zing!