Post #1 of an ongoing series: people humiliating their pets

Dear displaced Aborigines...

We, the undersigned bleeding hearts, sincerely hope that this plaque (which cost us almost $400 to have manufactured and installed) compensates you for the dispossession of your land and the travails of your people since white settlement. It certainly salves our guilt and makes us feel good about having 'done something' without actually having done anything at all.

Signed,

Whitey.

PS: Please stop hanging around our office, it gives us the creeps.

Not today

Hehe. The lecturer's name is Meme.

Oh fuck off.

I love street flyers for crazy shit.

I sent Misty a text message to the effect that while I am not interested in modelling, I would like to buy tickets to watch the shoot if they were available. Misty sent me back a text message asking who I was. Well, Misty, I think that you might not want to put your phone number up everywhere if you're gonna ask questions like that, sweetheart.

Ethan, Ethan, Ethan of New England...

Proud as he can be.

Ethan, Ethan
Ethan of New England
Had an idea to be free....

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH

WATCHED OUT FOR THAT TREE

I can't decide

whether Alphaville's 'Forever Young' reminds me of my own mortality because it's a sadly poignant video coupled with a well-written pop song about the inevitability of death or if it's because I was eight when it came out.

Whichever the case, what kind of bitches does this guy fuck?

Answer: any bitches he wants. This truth is self evident.

Staring full bore into another business failure of my own design, all I can think of is that I don't want to be forever young, but I do want the last three years of my life back. Help me 80s synth pop band, help me achieve oblivion and oneness with the universe.

Another plan to revive musical theatre

A musical version of BattleStar Galactica. Cylons dancing the Can-Can, soulful musical numbers from Caprica-Six (think I don't know how to love him), a rescue raptor on a hydraulic mount a-la Miss Saigon, and Anthony Warlow as Lee Adama.

Basically, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, set in space. Seven wombs for seven robots, if you will.

I would call it BATTLESTAR!

Tolerance

What is it other than the tacit acceptance that other people are wrong and you can't be bothered correcting them?

My plan to revitalize theater

All lipstick lesbian version of 'Equus' using strippers for cast members AND some celebrity. It doesn't matter as long as the words "All Lesbian Equus starring strippers" is involved.

Seriously, this is the biggest moneymaking idea you will ever read.

It taps into the smarmy "I studied SEXUAL theory in college" feminist crowd because you can say that the horse gods represent the lead characters struggle with heterosexuality and guys can impress women by saying they went to see the all-lesbian version of Equus starring Bebe Neuwirth.

The production could be kept on the road forever just on the proceeds from women's studies departments alone.

Mariah Carey

Mariah Carey makes every Christmas song three times longer than it should be.

Or to put it another way.

MMMaaarrriiiaaahhh (breathe) CCCaaarrr(SCOOP)eeeyyy (breathe) mmmaaak(SCOOP)kkeeesss
(breathe)eeevvveeerrryyy (breathe)sss(SCOOP)ooo(SCOOP)nnn(SCOOP)ggg (breathe) threetimeslonger (SCOOP)ttthhaaannn(breathe)iiittt(breathe)ssshhhooouuulllddd(big breath)bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

I am ok with this because I hate fish and all they stand for.

You can complain about this all you like, but what have fish done for you lately? Fish: lazy and selfish.

Tell me if you like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra so that I may form a low opinion of your entertainment choices

I can rock Christmas songs. I love Christmas songs. Mel Torme, Bing and Rosemary Clooney can tear a Christmas song the fuck on up. What I can't abide is the music of Trans Siberian Orchestra.

Peep dis'


Ok, how many things did you see wrong here?

• The announcer called it "non traditional". He was looking for the words "bombastic and unecessary"
• Guitarists and traditional ROCK band dudes are front and center so three guitarists can play barre chords.
• lame ass rocking out by band members playing rhythm
• The entire ensemble could have been cut down to a drum machine, a decent sequencer and one asshole with long hair strumming a guitar with no noticeable loss of song quality.
• the bassist is playing his bass low slung like Cliff Burton but is not, in fact, Cliff Burton
  

TSO takes Christmas carols, pares them down to their basic chords, has an orchestra backing them up, adds "metal" shred guitar.

To gain a better understanding of this, put together 20 of your closest friends to play 'Eleanor Rigby'. Play only the E minor seventh and the C chord on the one. Then add ridiculous guitar riffing to it including dramatic string bends at the end. Now convince millions of people that you are engaging in an artistic endeavor by schmaltzing it up by latching onto the political cause of the day.

As Totalfarker 433 noted:

"Classical shredding + orchestra works about the same way as
dinosaurs + office environent = funny.

Only, the latter equation is enjoyable sometimes."

But the members of TSO are no strangers to unnecessary displays of near-foolish levels of rock excess for excess sake.

From Savatage's website:

Q: Why did Steve use three bass drums? Did he actually play all three?
A: Steve worked on the philosophy that more is better, so if one bass drum is good, two are great, than three must be even better. During the POTN all three were used, the third one on the right used by a slave pedal. It proved to be overkill, so on all subsequent tours it was there for looks only. During the Gutter tour the inner head had a bull’s eye drawn on it, for the purpose of testing aiming abilities when he was spitting. Steve was allotted a certain amount of points based on his accuracy.

Jesus is dirty.

Jesus has some crazy kinks, man.

I do not appreciate ambush meetings.

Pop quizzes were crap when I was a kid and they are worse now.

Leave it like you found it.

I am sure that if Emily Post had an entry on footpath (that's sidewalk for those of you following along in the USA) etiquette she would say that if you are going to cut up tremendously expensive and aesthetically pleasing flagstone to install a piece of telecommunications equipment for a privately-held company that you should maybe replace your divots with something better than asphalt, fuckfaces.


That's what she'd say. I'm sure of it.

Menses: The society for smart people and stuff.

I was reading Dikkii's Diatribe and noticed that his latest entry was a boast or lament about the reading level of his blog, as scored by this website.

Dikkii's blog is full of reasonably long and well thought-out pieces about matters of some import. This one seems to talk about women up-on-blocks a lot.

His blog was rated 'undergraduate'. Ours was rated 'genius'. Dikkii, it's time to increase the amount of airtime you commit to uterine effluvia. Period.

This negro means "success" to many small business with no ad budget

We need to show diversity and appeal to the fun loving crowd who are our demographic but how can we do it with almost no budget?

THANK YOU ISTOCK STOCK IMAGE OF AN UNTHREATENING NEGRO WHO LOOKS WELL SPOKEN.

He's black, but not TOO black. I would let him live in my neighborhood.

Minimum Wage, Maxiumum Damage- the trials and tribulations of a part-time janitor

As a janitor, I am given access to 24 floors of women's restrooms and that means I can get my rubber-gloved hands on at least a pound of expelled uterine matter a night.

History is replete with individuals who made gold from other people's trash and my mind is churning with ideas on how to capitalize on the dirty tampons and pads of hundreds of women.

Craig's List here I come. I bet they laughed at Vanderbilt when he imported the first Asian hooker.

Menses mean money, baby.

At least referring to it as "The Curse" had some dignity

I don't like to talk about my own personal bodily functions, especially when they are female-specific. To be honest, I'm downright squeamish about it. Unfortunately, the subject matter at hand outs me as someone who has to deal with being "up on blocks" for a few days a month. Even worse, I have to admit to buying Libra Invisible BodyFit Pads. Now, I really don't want to get into the hows and whys of my choice of feminine protection, I will simply say that most women would rather buy some extra insurance than risk having that "Carrie" moment we all know and dread.

Now that I have awkwardly explained why I am in possession of sanitary napkins, let's examine why they are blog-worthy:

Oh, look how cute and stylish. How very Paul Smith! Ok, whatever. Now to peel off the backing and stick the pad to your knickers.

Um...What. The. Fuck. I'm shedding uterine lining here, people, not taking a coffee and Metamucil assisted morning constitutional. Thanks for the reading material on the back of my crotch-pad, but it's not exactly a cereal box, now is it? Also, to the wiseass who decided to call these maxi-pad factoids "Odd Spots", while I normally applaud such irreverence, I'm going to withhold my kudos this time. Sometimes a little shame is a good thing.

Is this bad?

Every time in my life when a vegan or vegetarian chick has swallowed after taking the act to its logical conclusion, I feel the same way I used to when I would surreptitiously throw small pieces of ham onto the pizzas of attractive vegetarian or vegan women.

Like a god.