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Steph makes a mean Mac & Cheese dish.
Howl's Moving Castle is a great movie.
Versus might be the best B-Movie ever.
I haven't showered in almost three days...but I'm fixin' to.
Becoming the Archetype are extremely heavy and extremely metal.
I'm now giving up on trying to eat right because there are no healthy places to eat between here and my work place. I'm about to go eat 8 Krystals.
Garbage Pail Kids might be the worst movie ever.
Boyd likes to kick it.
Life is really good.
I love all of my friends. Even if they think I don't.
I have to go to work now.
But first, I gotta shower!
Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: Becoming the Archetype: Ex Nihilo
Chris Moore rocks. That is not a matter of opinion. He does and if you don't think so, you haven't read any of his books.
Now, as for opinion, here is one (though not my own, I do share it almost completely). And here it is, taken from the Christopher Moore website:
"Steaming Hot Cup O Jihad with that Danish?"
So, by now you’ve all heard that the Danish newspaper that published cartoons depicting Mohammed cause a Muslim boycott of Danish food products, as well as death threats to the newspaper and the withdrawal of the Saudi and Libyan Ambassadors from Denmark.
Now, it’s politically correct to say that we are not in a clash of cultures, but for those who felt that an entire nation should somehow be penalized because their sense of humor does not line up with certain religious beliefs, going as far as shouting Death to Denmark!, well, I’m sorry, you people are fucked-up. And so is the culture that produced you.
Let me qualify. I’m not saying that Mohammed, or Islam is fucked up, but those of you who are talking about violence or any retaliation for that matter, because of some cartoons, you people are fucked up. You are fucked up by choice, but you are fucked up nonetheless. Of all the things to get your turbans in a bunch about, some cartoons in a Nordic newspaper are not it. If you are going to pay respect to tradition, how about keeping in mind that when the Danish were gnawing on reindeer bones and trying to get the hang of slaughtering Irish Monks, your people were inventing algebra, modern sanitation, and Damascus steel. In other words, you were about five-hundred years out of the dark ages when Europe was still looking for the light switch. So now you want to behave like you just can’t wait to get everyone tied to the stake and start your own inquisition rather than develop a sense of context, or a sense of humor?
I don’t want to go all Anne Coulter on you (because I enjoy sandwiches and sanity too much), but I wrote a book that has a lot of fun with Christianity, and it’s sold hundreds of thousands of copies all over the world, and you know what? Everyone is cool with it. Christians write me every day to tell me how much they enjoyed it because they get the joke. Yet some obscure Danish paper publishes a drawing of Mohammed with a bomb on his head and you guys are ready to go Jihad on them – you threaten to plant bombs, IN THE NAME OF MOHAMMED.
Talk about making their point for them.
Are you trying to prove that you’re theologically inferior to your Christian counterparts? You feel as if you need to catch up on the atrocities because your prophet showed up five hundred years after theirs? Look, take a tour of our red states – take a good look at the toothless fucktards who claim to be striking out in the name of the Lord. (Intelligent design, my ass. Again, talk about making the point for the other side.) No, save your cab fare, look at George Bush – do you want to equate yourself with the kind of religiously motivated, narrow-minded ignorance that he represents? No?
Well then lighten the fuck up.
At least the majority of the Christians have managed to, and they had a long line of ignorant fuckwits to overcome as well, just like you do now. So to all of the reasonable Muslims who are shaking their heads right now at the idea of answering satire with violence, well good for you. And for those of you of any religion who are shaking your heads at the idea that God gives a good goddamn who you kill in his name, well good for you too. And for those of you who would debase your own faith by acting as if that the creator of the universe can be injured by someone’s taste in humor, well call me smug, but you need to channel your energy toward a little more humility.
And finally, to you cartoon jihadists, calling for death to Denmark and boycotting Danish products – well, that’s your choice, but you’re going to miss out on all that delicious Danish ham with your eggs.*
*Yes I know. And hello? Danish? Where do you think that comes from? Before you think, no big deal, I have a back-up plan, “scone” also derives from the Danes. You are going to have to Jihad with no breakfast, because I know you motherfuckers aren’t going to have a bagel with a schmere. And I know you’re not going to have falafel for breakfast, because none of us can eat that tasty treat any more for fear that Bill O’Reilly will show up at our house with a stiffy wrapped in the flag and ask us to take a shower with him.
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: Project 86: Stein's Theme
I've compiled, yet again, some useless crap. I do, however, hope that it makes you happy and/or smile. Really though, I hope you just think I am cool.
Random Facts (that may or may not be facts):
-Isaac Asimov is the only author to have a book in every Dewey-decimal
-"Dreamt" is the only English word that ends in the letters "mt".
-Cat's urine glows under a blacklight.
-All of the clocks in Pulp Fiction are stuck on 4:20.
-Samuel Clemens aka Mark Twain was born on a day in 1835 when Haley's Comet
came into veiw. When He died in 1910, Haley's Comet came into view again.
-The number of the trash compactor in Star Wars (20th Century Fox, 1977)
-You can get the most words without rearranging any of its letters from the word "therein": the, there, he, in, rein, her, here, here, ere, therein, herein.
-Horses cannot vomit.
Final Fantasy Facts:
-The Cetra were migraters. Some of them got lazy and they stopped moving just before the "Calamity from the Skies"/Jenova came and that's why that crater never got repaired. Jenova ended up infecting nearly all wildlife and made the moogles almost extinct.
-That last statement might not be true.
-There are appox. 6 ways to get an elixer in FFVII:
a) Win from a Dark Dragon
b) Morph a Harpy
c) Steal from Iron Man
d) Steal from Master Tonberry
e) Morph a Tonberry
f) Morph a Vlakorados
-The first line in the first FF game is, "The world was veiled in darkness..."
-Kain, from FFIV, shares the last name "Highwind" with Cid from FFVII.
-The legend of Mysidia (FFIV) reads as follows:
One to be born
from a dragon
hoisting the light
and the dark
arises high up
in the sky to
the still land.
Veiling the moon with
the light of eternity
to mother earth with
a bounty and mercy.
Shaun of the Dead:
- Throughout the movie, Ed can be seen playing the video game Timesplitters 2. As a possible way of saying thanks, the line "You've got red on you" was given to a zombie in the third Timesplitters game, Timesplitters 3 - Future Perfect.
-When at work, talking to the youngsters, Shaun mentions that "Ash" is also sick and can't come to work. A nod to the classic Evil Dead trilogy where Bruce Campbell plays Ash, also a sales clerk.
-Although it seems like Diane was killed after she left the Winchester, she actually does survive. If you watch the "Plot Holes" section on the DVD, Diane explains how she used David's leg as a weapon, fought through the zombies to a tree, ate part of the leg for sustenance, and then came down after everything was back to normal.
The Lord of the Rings Trilogy:
-According to the Guinness Book of Records, the Lord of the Rings holds the record for the greatest number of false feet used in one movie: 60,000.
-5000 cubic metres of vegetables and flowers were grown a year before filming started to make the Hobbits' village.
-Galadriel's opening narration was originally supposed to be provided by Frodo. Gandalf was also considered.
-Extended version - At the party, Bilbo hides from Lobellia Sackville-Baggins. Look closely and you may recognize the actress as Lionel's zombie mother from Peter Jackson's film "Brain Dead"/"Dead Alive."
-When Sam's cooking the rabbit stew, Sam says, "lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish", and Gollum spits. Andy Serkis is very proud that something of his is on screen, because it is his spit we see, not a CGI like the rest of Gollum's body. Appendices of extended DVD.
-(Extended Edition)The song sung in the Houses of Healing scene is sung by Liv Tyler.
-According to Ian McKellen's (Gandalf) comments in a television interview, as well as other cast and crew member's statements, that due to weather conditions and indoor/outdoor set locations, ie the airport, whilst filming, most of the entire movie is dubbed.
-As Hoggle and Sarah fall out the end of the chute that leads to the Bog of Eternal Stench, look closer and you can see that Sarah falls through the end of the chute twice.
-When in the Goblin's house, Sarah chucks a plate of food in a Goblins face and says 'Hungry?' but her mouth doesn't move when she says this.
- When Sarah crosses the Bog of Eternal Stench, the bridge rails break, and then the bridge plank under her gives way and falls into the bog, while she clings to the tree limb. However, when Sir Didymus says, "It seemed solid enough," the left rail and the bridge plank are actually still intact.
From Dusk Till Dawn:
-Throughout the entire film the tattoo on George Clooney's neck moves position and changes shape.
-When John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson are fired at in the apartment, the bullet holes are already in the wall before the gun is fired.
Okay I'm tired of this now...see y'alls later.
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: nothin' right now.
I really don't like the idea of keeping a journal for now. I think that, if I do it, it means that I'm showing some vanity. Or at least a large portion of it. What I would like to do is just post things or links that I like. Something about having a journal that I know other people will read bugs me. So, intead I will share things that I like for a while. And this is not because I don't have anything to say, because life is great and is getting better by the moment; I'm getting in touch with people I haven't spoken with for years and years. I like that. I like that I like things more now. It's just that because of that, I don't really want to stumble on my own self importance. I would like to kill it alltogether. Also this is not because I don't like anyone, on the contrary, I like and love you all.
You=rock! But I'm tired of talking. I would much rather listen. I have two ears and one mouth, which means I should listen more and talk less. I've been doing the opposite. So farewell for now, though not for good. Here is a link to something:
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Underdog: Boom Boom Satellites
And, conversly, because I do, here is some more of that funny stuff that "SeanBaby" has to offer.
I used to work at Wendy's as a manager, so this one hits close to home. I've seen some of the videos (sometimes for fun) and guess what? they suck. I've not seen this one, but I have seen so many that this does not suprise me in the least. Sit back, grab a burger, and enjoy the freshness.
I think it was Winston Churchill who said, "Judge a country not by its accomplishments, but by the way it trains its uneducated to grill burgers." If I'm right, which is possible, then after seeing Grill Skill, we as a country should be judged fantastically insane. Grill Skill is a training video that was somehow smuggled out of the Wendy's hamburger grilling camp. It was never meant for civilian eyes.
The video begins with the late Dave Thomas giving a motivational speech about the pleasures of 100 percent beef and square-shaped meat patties. Keep in mind that this is before Mr. Thomas had hired an acting coach or a speech therapist. They either filmed this when he was medicated, or there's an android wearing the founder of Wendy's skin and making training videos disguised as him. You might have seen a movie where an undercover cop has to slip an encoded phrase into his conversation with the drug dealers to signal that the operation has gone to hell. Every line Dave Thomas delivers sounds like that. He's so awkward on camera that each moment felt like a SWAT team was going to burst through the window. The video would have had more personality if they let the Wendy's wet floor caution stand host it. Little did I know that I was only five minutes away from horrors unimagined.
What gets especially unnerving is how Dave pronounces "old fashioned." It's the most common word associated with his hamburgers, but when he says it sounds like he's filled his mouth with oatmeal and punched himself in the stomach. For example, "When I founded Wendy's, I made it my goal to make the best old flppblggbbppbb hamburger in the bidness." Four minutes later, speech impediments would be the last thing on my mind.
Dave's love of beef is boundless. He describes the beef patty's freshness, shape, saltiness and how its flatness causes it to hang over the edge of the bun. He goes on to explain "people will like that." Dave may talk like a robot, but it seems like he genuinely appreciates and believes in everything ground meat and its byproducts can do. However, his love poem to beef eventually degenerates into propaganda. He goes on and on about how Wendy's creates new worlds of delight by allowing customers to choose toppings and something about how pressed and salted patties can cure pancreatic cancer. I wasn't really listening since I was thinking about how nice it was that in two minutes I probably WOULDN'T be in a battle against a living nightmare for my own sanity. It turned out later that I was so, so wrong.
The video cuts to a Wendy's employee, Bill, who is called over by his supervisor Mary. Mary has decided that Bill is ready to move from fries to the... grill. There's a strange pause in the dialogue here as if Mary was expecting Bill to kiss her feet in celebration of this great honor. To his credit, he doesn't care. The next part of the video seems like it was written by Dave Thomas because Mary describes in detail the majesty of their ground beef. And again to his credit, Bill totally doesn't care. To complete his training, Mary leaves Bill in the breakroom with a VHS tape. That's where life as I knew it reached out of my VCR and kicked me in the balls.
Next time you're in Wendy's and you think one of the employees doesn't take your cheeseburger seriously enough, cut them some slack. They've seen the gates of hell. As soon as Mary is gone, the TV in the breakroom goes haywire and launches out a magical flying head. It shrieks at Bill, "I AM THE DUKE OF THE GRILL!!!" and sucks him into the television. What Bill was not told during his time as a french fry cook is that all Wendy's grillers are trained in a bizarre world inside the breakroom television through the use of rap. That's right. Rap.
Before any explanation can be given to Bill, the Duke of the Grill is dancing circles around him and playing air guitar on a metal spatula. Just so you're picturing his dance correctly, try to imagine a black person making fun of how a white person might try to dance like Michael Jackson. Now imagine he was deaf and you've switched the music on him without him knowing about it. And why not — go ahead and imagine that his genitals are hooked up to a high-powered electrical current too.
What I'm trying to say is that he's not very good.
His rap is worse. The Duke of the Grill's raps about every painful detail of grilling hamburgers. For example...
"Now workin' the grill ville it ain't soooo tough, but first of all you gotta check yo stuff!
Like a grill that's set at two five oh, and the meat and the cheese are ready to go!
Meat's got grain to it just like wood; follow the arrows and lay it down like you should!
From front to back, lay it down! Place it evenly, not scattered all around!"
This goes on forever. There are literally thirty-four lines of rap devoted just to flipping over your burgers and mashing them down with your "tool." Your "tool" is Wendy's rapper lingo for "spatula," and its importance is made clear when the Duke of the Grill proclaims, "YOU GOTTA HAVE YOUR TOOOOL!" then plays more air guitar on it from four different camera angles. His entire rap lasts about seven minutes, and as with all bad music, if any of the lyrics could be pantomimed with a metal spatula, trust me, they were.
The madness reaches a breaking point when the Duke of the Grill explains to Bill why Dave Thomas' genius robot mind demands they smash the burger patties flat with their tools. He mentions something about shrinking which is all the meat patties themselves need to spring to life and start singing. "We start shrinking! When we hit the grill! You know we will!" This is repeated many, many times. Badly computer generated or not, singing meat is scary. If this video taught Wendy's employees anything, it's that the first thing you do with meat is check to make sure it doesn't have a mouth.
After the Duke and his backup hamburgers finish their song, Bill slowly repeats the entire thing, getting a little bit funkier with each line. After that, an entirely new rap starts about how to add cheese to what we've learned and how grillers laugh in the face of danger, as long as that danger is just people wanting hamburgers. The singing meat slabs also have another song; this time about the five stages of beef readiness. It supports my theory that I am and always will be terrified of them.
Thankfully, four songs about flipping hamburgers are enough to graduate Bill back to the real world. He reappears where he was as if it was all a horrible nightmare, and Supervisor Mary says, "I see you finished the tape. Do you have any questions?" Now remember that Bill was just, without warning, transported to a tiny grill inside a TV by a rapping madman's head and his singing ground beef. And his answer to the question, "Do you have any questions?"... "No." No, he did not have any questions, which was probably a good idea.
If even half of their lyrics are true, rappers have killed thousands of us. However, Grill Skill does more than pay rap back. In fact, after Grill Skill, I think the rap community may have to kill a king or monarch just to even out the amount of injustice we've done each other's people.
Again that link is: http://www.thewavemag.com/pagegen.php?p
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: Jenova: Advent Children ST
Someday, in the event that mankind acctually figures out what it is that this world revolves around, thousands of people are going to be shocked and perplexed to find out it was not them. Sometimes, this includes me.
Current Mood: productive
Current Music: MDX5: Marching...
So recently, I had decided to not let negativity get the best of me. And I think I should make myself more clear on that. I don't know if some of you think that it means that I'll never get angry or upset, but that isn't the case. Anger is a spoiled child. You have to correct it, calm it, and nurture it back to health before you can let it loose. Say I get into an argument or debate with my wife or with a friend. Instead of trying to drill my point home, over and over and over again to no avail (on either side), I believe it is wise to just walk away. Think about what the argument consists of. Then tell the person that you will discuss the issue with them at a later time. Be it an hour, or a week. After this time has passed, you will not be so angry (the child having been calmed and sent to its room) and you will likely resolve the conflict without any weapons, if you follow me. Being upset is another of my former problems. I used to get so down about nothing at all. The sky could look a certain shade of gray and I'd think to myself, "that is the color of my soul." Well, fruck all thems schnits. Letting everything get you down is akin to never walking again just because you have a blister on your foot. Or, put it another way, It's as though you have fallen and then you say to all those around you who either look or try to help you up, "NO, no no no...I'll only fall down again, so I might as well just stay here." Sounds pretty silly, if you axe me. This is not pascifism, this is not weak. It is strength and it is a battle fought everyday; to triumph over the things that make us walking piles of mud. We have a will, and the force of that will is greater than all of humanity. And even though we controll our will, it's very existence forces me to believe in God. And God to me is like the sun, not because I can see it, but by way of it I can see everything. I see now that all of this struggle can be left behind, because the battle was won as soon as I realized it. All I had to do was quit feeding the beast that wanted to kill me. It's evil is one that can only be empowerd by what we give it.
I've had enough of climbing that never-ending ladder as it sinks into quicksand. I think I'm going to sit on the bank for a while and rest and regain my strength. That is untill I get up and walk away from it altogether.
Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Basement Jaxx: good luck
It's been a while, people, and I have missed you. Christmas (I don't care what liberal/conservative argument is going on about it being called "holidays," December, 25 is when we acknowledge the birth of Christ. Get over it. I've grown up thinking this and being told that and I'm not dead because of it. Mad respect to the other religions that are observed during the season, it's just Dec. 25=Christmas) came and went and so did New-Years Day. The one consistency in my life occurring between the two events? I've been sick. Since the Monday after Christmas until TODAY, Jan. 3, I've been running a fever, not sleeping, not functioning and definitely not drinking for New-Years. My playstation 2 broke the hell up with itself so no more Dragon Quest VIII, nor will there be any Soul Calibur III (a Christmas present from my mother) and also no dvd player. Well, not entirely "no dvd player," seeing as I bought a new one last night. I misplaced $200 until today, so there has been some considerable amount of "zoning out" on my part for fear of just slipping into the realm of madness. The catch is that when you are severely sick, you can't quite reach that zen state you were looking for seeing as you are in constant pain and at the mercy of a fluctuating body temperature.
I've said all that to say this, though: in order to concentrate in the midst of great discomfort, the thoughts have to be pretty important ones. Ones that stand out, ones that make sense, and ones that are dear to you. So all I've been thinking about in the past week is (a) Steph and how I don't treat her right all of the time, (b) my friends and how I hope that they all will have a better year, (c) my past inability to be sincerely courageous in the face of fear, (d) all of the time I've waisted on, metaphorically speaking, slitting my wrists and running for sympathy. I now have a greater sense of the importance of choice in life. To either stand up and do right, or to sit and complain about it, (e) how I have to learn to consider Steph's friends as my friends and not just "Steph's Friends." Meaning that I should include them in my life more, because I've asked that of her regarding my own friends, (f) how much I love to laugh and how I don't do it nearly enough, (g) the fact that I have to stop judging so many people, places, and things (though celebrities aren't really any of those, so to me they are fair game) and not enjoying what is good about these things. It might sound strange but the movie The Devil's Rejects has reminded me that even the most horrible person can be viewed as a human being and can even be shown consideration for simply not knowing any better, and (h) how there is a definite "good" and "bad" way to live and do things. I guess that one covers all of the others, you know. But I want to start doing right, even at all costs. I can't keep being so negative and hateful all of the time.
In closing, I just want to say I hope everyone is doing well and I hope that you all have a great and wonderful everything!
This all might sound lame, but it is totally honest and you can't blame me for that. And it's as close to a Resolution as I've come in a while, the only difference being that this is an EVERYDAY one. If my head tries to go back to the old thought, then it's off with my head. Sincerely, Ichabod.
Current Mood: content
Current Music: Project 86: From December
For some time now, David Cross and Larry, the-Cable-Guy have not liked each other. There was a dispute over the "quality" and "quantity" of either person's stand up shows. Needless to say, the differences of the two comedians are probably obvious, the most notable being that, though Cross is a southerner, has adopted a broader world-view and Larry is from the north and yet has a southern accent (not just on his speach, mind you).
On the Mr. Show web page, and yes it is still up, David Cross has posted an open letter to Mr. the-Cable-Guy, outlining a few things that were said between the two. I have saved you (and myself) the effort once again (mainly because, yep, you guessed it: DQVIII) and am pasting it here for you to see. I haven't read any of Larry the-Cable-Guy's stuff but I have seen some of his stand-up, which is pretty shitty. So, yeah, I'm partial to David Cross' point but mostly because he is really fucking funny. I'll stop with the "yada-yada's" and let you get to it then:
Thursday, December 01, 2005
AN OPEN LETTER TO LARRY THE CABLE GUY
The following is a letter I wrote after picking up Git-R-Done - The Larry The Cable Guy Story (ghost written by Susan Sontag). I have to warn you that it's nearly 11 pages long. But I think it's chock full of life lessons for all of us and if you're not careful... you just might learn something!
An open letter to Larry The Cable Guy:
It's me, David Cross. Recently I was shooting something for my friends at "Wonder Showzen" (the funniest, most subversive comedy on American T.V. at the moment) and when we were taking a break one of the guys on the show asked me if I had seen some article in something somewhere wherein you were interviewed to promote your new book "Please-Git-R-Done" (published by Crown Books $23.95 U.S.) and they asked about your devoting a chapter to slamming me and the "P.C. Left". Since I stopped following your career shortly after you stopped going on stage wearing a tool belt with cable wrapped around your neck (around your appearance at "Laffs 'n' Food" in Enid, Oklahoma Aug 23-26 1999?) I said I wasn't aware of the article. They went on to tell me that you said basically (and I am not quoting but paraphrasing their recall) that I could kiss your ass, that I've never been to one of your shows (true) and that I didn't know your audience (untrue).
SO, I went and got your book, "Gitting-R-Donned", and excitedly skimmed past the joke about that one time you farted and something farty happened, on past the thing about the fat girl who farted and finally found it, . Well, needless to say I farted. I farted up a fartstorm right there in the Flyin' J Travel Center. I fartingly bought the book and took it home with an excitement I haven't experienced since I got Bertha Chudfarter's Grandma drunk and she took her teeth out and blew me as I was finger banging her while wearing a Jesus sock puppet in the back of the boiler room at The Church of the Redeemer off I-20 (I don't care who you are, that's funny.)
Anyhoo, I got home and read the good parts. It seems that you were pissed off at Rolling Stone magazine, and I can understand why. You made some good points in your argument as well. I agree that there is an eliteism and bias in the press and too often a writer will include asides to show the readers how smart he or she is and how "above it" they are. But come on! Surely you can't be surprised, or worse, hurt or offended by this. You even say in the book that you knew what you were getting into (Rolling Stone being all "lefty" and whatnot). Certainly I'm not surprised that they took a ten minute phone conversation with me and chose to print only the most inflammatory paragraph within it. That's what they do.
But I want to address some of the things you write about me in "Git-to-Gittin'-r-Done". In response to the Rolling Stone article, but first let me say this; you are very mistaken if you think that I don't know your audience. Hell, I could've been heckled by the parents of some of the very people that come see you now. I grew up in Roswell, Georgia (near the Funny Bone and not far from The Punch Line). The very first time I went on stage was at The Punch Line in Sandy Springs in 1982 when I was 17. I cut my teeth in the south and my first road gigs ever were in Augusta, Charleston, Baton Rouge, and Louisville. I remember them very well, specifically because of the audience. I remember thinking (occasionally, not all the time) "what a bunch of dumb redneck, easily entertained, ignorant motherfuckers. I can't believe the stupid shit they think is funny." So, yes, I do know your audience, and they suck. And they're simple. And please don't mistake this as coming from a place of bitterness because I didn't "make it" there or, I'm not as successful as you because that's not it at all. Since I was a kid I've always been a little over sensitive to the glorification and rewarding of dumb. The "salt of the earth, regular, every day folk" (or lowest common denominator) who see the world, and the people like me in it, as on some sort of secular mission to take away their flag lapels and plaster-of-paris jesus television adornments strike me as childishly paranoid. But perhaps the funniest (oddest) thing in your book is you taking me to task for being P.C. Have you heard my act?! I'll match your un-P.C.ness any day of the week my friend. I truly believe, and have said onstage amongst other things that, orthodox Jews are bar none, the most annoying people, as a group, that walk this earth. I absolutely refuse to say the term "African-American". It's a ridiculous and ill-applied label that was accepted with a thoughtless rush just to make white people feel at ease and slightly noble. I also believe that in the right setting that, as unfortunate as it may be, retarded people can be a near constant source of entertainment (fact!). Larry, whether northern, southern, straight, gay, male, female, liberal, conservative, Christian or Jew, I've walked them all. It didn't matter if it was a room full of "enlightened" hippie lesbian wicans at Catch A Rising Star in Cambridge, MA or literally hundreds of students at the University of St. Louis (a Jesuit school) or a roomful of the cutest, angriest frat boys in Baton Rouge all threatening to beat me up, I un-P.C.'d the shit out of them. That's another thing that bothers me too. I honestly believe that if we had worked a week together at whatever dumb-ass club in American Strip Mall #298347 in God's Country U.S.A and hung out that week and got good and drunk after the shows, that you and I would've been making each other laugh (I imagine we would have politely disagreed on a few things) but not only would we be laughing but we'd often be laughing at the expense of some of the audience members at that nights show and you know it. I'll address your easy, bullshit sanctimonious "don't mess with my audience" crap further on. But for now, let's "Gittle-R-Ding-Dong-Done!"
Okay, here's what I said in the RS interview: "He's good at what he does. It's a lot of anti-gay, racist humor -- which people like in America - all couched in 'I'm telling it like it is.' He's in the right place at the right time for that gee-shucks, proud-to-be-a-redneck, I'm-just-a-straight-shooter-multimillion
You took umbrage at my calling a lot of your act anti-gay and racist and said that "...according to Cross and the politically correct police, any white comedians who mention the word 'black' or say something humorous but faintly negative about any race are racists."
Well, first of all, your act is racist. Maybe not all the time, but it certainly can be. Here, let me quote you back, word for word, some of your "faintly negative" humor and I'll let people judge for themselves.
Re: Abu Ghraib Torture -
"Let me ask some of these commie rag head carpet flying wicker basket on the head balancing scumbags something!"
Re: Having a Muslim cleric give the opening prayer at the Republican Convention -
"What the hell is this the cartoon network? The Republicans had a muslim give the opening prayer at there (sic) convention! What the hell's going on around here! Is Muslim now the official religion of the United States!... First these peckerheads ( Ironically, "peckerhead" was a derogatory word slaves and their offspring used to describe white people) fly planes into towers and now theys (sic) prayin' before conventions! People say not all of em did that and I say who gives a rats fat ass! That's a fricken slap in the face to New York city by having some muslim sum-bitch give the invocation at the republican convention! This country pretty much bans the Christian religion (the religion of George Washington and John Wayne) virtually from anything public and then they got us watchin' this muslim BS!! Ya wanna pray to allah then drag yer flea infested ass over to where they pray to allah at!" End Quote. So... yeah. There you go. This quote goes on and on but my favorite part is when you say towards the end, "...now look, I love all people (except terrorist countries that want to kill us)..."
There are numerous examples and I don't think I need to reprint any more. You get the idea. Oh, what the hell, here's one more - "They're dead, get over it! Poor little sandy asses! I'm sure all them dead folks'd they'd killed give 40 shekels or whatever kinda money these inbred sumbitches use, but I'd give 40 of 'em whatever it is to be humiliated instead of dead!"
Okay Larry The Cable Guy, I will ignore the irony of a big ole southern redneck character actually using "inbred" as an insult, as well as the fact that a shekel is currency from Israel, the towel heads sworn enemy. But at least you're passionate about what you see as inhumane injustice (not on a global level of course, but on a national level) and the simple black and white of what's right and what's wrong. It's kinda like you're this guy who speaks for all these poor, unfortunate souls out there who wear shirts with blue collars on them, work hard all day to put food on the table for their family (unlike people who wear shirts with white collars or wear scrubs or t-shirts or dresses or costumes that consist of flannel shirts with the sleeves cut-off and old trucker hats) and pray to the American Flag of Jesus to protect them from the evils of muslims, queers, illegal immigrants, and the liberal jews who run Hollywood and the media. I guess one could say that you're "telling it like it is". And considering the vast amount of over-simplification you employ to describe with sweeping generalizations, all of America and the World that "don't make no sense to you", as well as your lack of sensitivity, and second grade grammar, one might be led to think that you are somewhat proud of not appearing (or being) too intellectual. Combine that with your sucker appeal to the knee-jerk white Christian patriot in us all who would much rather hear 87 fart jokes than hear a joke in which the President (the current one, not the last one) or the Pope, or Born-Again Christians, or Lee Greenwood get called on their shit for being the hypocrites that they are, and I think we've got a winner!
About being Anti-Gay. I honestly take that back. I do not think that you are anti-gay, I didn't choose those words wisely. Your stuff isn't necessarily anti-gay but rather stupid and easy. "Madder than a queer with lock jaw on Valentines Day." That's not that funny, I don't care who you are. It's just sooo easy. I mean, over half the planet sucks dick so why gays? Why not truck stop whores, or Hollywood Starlets or housewives? Because when you say "queer" you get an easy laugh. End of story.
As for being a multi-millionaire in disguise, that's just merely a matter of personal taste for me. I do not begrudge you your money at all, it is sincerely hard earned and you deserve whatever people want to give to you. What sticks in my craw about that stuff is the blatant and (again, personal taste) gross marketing and selling of this bullshit character to your beloved fans. Now look, if someone wants to pay top dollar to come to one of your shows and then drop a couple hundred more on "Git-R-Done" lighters and hats and t-shirts and windshield stickers and trailer hitches and beer koozies and fishing hats and shot glasses etc, then good for you. I just think it's a little crass and belies the "good ole boy" blue collar thing you represent. But that's no big deal.
Now, as for the last statement that "We're in a state of vague American values and anti-intellectual pride."
Well, I think that's true. When you can rally the troops (so to speak) with a lazy, "latte drinking, tofu eating" generalization of Liberals and "Back ass rag fags" to describe Arabs, then, yeah, I think that falls in the "ignorant" category. I think that with even the slightest attention to the double standard and hypocrisy of both the Left and the Right in this country (if not all of the Christian Extremists as a whole) coupled with the bullshit they lazily swallow and parrot back while happily ignoring the gross inhumane treatment of those that aren't them so that we may have cheap sneakers and oil and slightly less taxes (although I'm sure the bracket you're in now gives you a ton of tax money back), then you could maybe see my point. Now here's the best part - in your book you preface the above quote by saying, "...but I guess I'm not as intellectual as David Cross. In that Rolling Stone article, he sure showed us what a deep thinker he is by sayin' "America is in a stage of vague intellectual pride." Jesus Christ can you even fucking read?! Whoever read that article to you butchered the actual quote. The quote that was right fucking in front of their face! I would fire your official reader and have them replaced with a Hooters Girl who doesn't fart. That way you have something nice to look at while you are getting your misinformation.
As for "anti-intellectual pride", that is Larry The Cable Guy in spades. Let me quote you again (from an on-line interview, "I consider my jokes to be very jeuvinille (sic). Stuff a 14 year old would laugh at because that's the ...sence (sic) of humor I have.". Hmmm, okay. That was easy.
Well, I suppose I've already covered part of that in the above. But you also specifically dumb down your speech while making hundreds of purposefully grammatical errors. How do I know this? It's on page 17 of your book wherein you describe how you would "Larry" up your commentaries for radio. What does it mean to "Larry" something up? Take a wild guess. The reason you feel the need to "Larry" something up? Because you are not that dumb. I mean you, Dan Whitney, the guy who's name the bank account is under. You were born and raised in Nebraska (hardly The South), went to private school and moved to Florida when you were 16. This is when you developed your accent?! Not exactly the developmental years are they? At age 16 that's the kind of thing you have to make a concerted effort to adopt. Did you hire a voice coach? Or were you like one of those people who go to England for a week and come back sounding like an extra from "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels"? As you said yourself in an interview once, "I can pop in and out of it pretty much whenever I want". In your book on page 89 you say in reference to the "gee-shucks" millionaire comment, "...see, to his (David's) mind, bein' well paid means I'm no longer real and I can't be a country boy anymore. It's just an act." Hey, it's always been an act! That's my fucking point! You admit it yourself so cut the indignation shit. And I am in no way deriding your work ethic. You clearly have more fart jokes than most and for that I applaud you. You go on to talk about how hard you work and life on the road and living on Waffle House and blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I get it, we’ve all been there and played shitty, degrading gigs and sacrificed etc, etc. Then you say, "...this (the personal attack) was different because David basically hammered my fans in that RS article by implying that they were ignorant. He crossed the line when he railed against them, so I had to tell ya what I felt about that. He can hammer me all he wants, but when he screwed with my fans, it was time for me to say something." Aww, that's so sweet and egregious. I can't stand that fan ass kissing bullshit. You and Dane Cook ought to get together and have a "my-fan's-are-the-greatest-people-on-ear
Anyway, I just wanted to address the stuff you wrote about me and clear some things up. Mostly the air around here... I just farted!!!!!
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Buck Owens: Satan's got to get along without me
I'm still playing DQVIII, which is a great thing. But I still do not have enough of a life in, what my friends would call, the "real" world, but I think that they are a tad judgemental. I can't think of any celebs I hate, nor can I editorialize on social issues. What I can do, though, is introduce you to someone who is cooler than most of us (and by most of us, I mean me).
His name is SeanBaby, and he is a comic writer/reviewer of horrid video games for Electronic Gaming Monthly (and is the only real reason I read that magazine). I know he's pretty dreamy and all that, but please ladies, there is plenty of ME to go around, while Mr. Baby has a busy life and won't return your calls.
Here is one of his reports on the effects of legal versions of illegal drugs that you so often find advertised in the back of high-times magazine, because I know most of you probably do, or have in the past, read high-times. The report is real, and no names have been changed. Anyway, here it is:
they promise euphoria and "trippy" highs just like their outlaw cousins, but do legal, herbal drugs actually work?
There might be an herbal solution to this problem, though. Herbal intoxicants are perfectly legal, and are supposedly comparable to the regular drugs Nancy Reagan and fried eggs warned us about. But we’re not about to take some hippie herbal drug manufacturer’s word for it. We wanted to find out if these things really worked. To do so, The Wave Magazine scientifically put me through a battery of tests with four different drugs: Salvia Divinorum, Mood Modulator, Reality Relaxer and Clonibus (all available at www.digital-drugstore.com).
With each drug it was important to test the physical, emotional and mental effects. I knew that I couldn’t be trusted to go through an ordinary day and just write down what was happening, because if all went according to plan, I would be retardedly high. I had to use clear scientific method. That meant a control group (me not on fake drugs) and numerically measurable results (you’ll find that my definition of “numerically measurable” is very loose). The following is the true story of my five-day experiment testing the effectiveness of herbal drugs.
Control Group (Me Not on Drugs)
Crossword Puzzling: 55 (minutes)
To test the effects of the drugs on my mental faculties, I would start a crossword puzzle immediately after taking each herbal intoxicant then record how many minutes it took to finish it. On no drugs, I completed an “expert” level puzzle in 55 minutes. Don’t be impressed by that, though. In the crossword book there were three difficulty levels higher than “expert” and two of them were described by words I don’t know the meaning of.
Power Lifting: 4 (repetitions)
I thought it was important to test the effect each drug has on a person’s physical strength. Mostly because in alien movies, drugs have an important role as one way to keep the stupid cop from believing in aliens for a little bit longer. For example, when the cop is investigating a car an alien tore in half, he can say, “There’s no such thing as aliens! It’s these damn kids all hopped up on drugs, tearing cars in half!” To measure my Power Lifting rating, I went to the gym and put the bench press machine on the heaviest weight, “15.” There was no chart describing how much “15” is in pounds, but after attempting it, I judged it to be about one million billion pounds. I could lift it four times before something near my groin warned me it was about to pop.
Verbal Acuity: 100 percent
To measure verbal acuity, I spent the week before this experiment renting embarrassing movies from different video stores around town and then returning them a day late. My verbal acuity test would be to go in while high on each herbal drug and try to talk my way out of the late fee. While I was completely sober I was able to get Blockbuster to remove the late fee for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze, starring Vanilla Ice simply by telling the clerk, “No, I totally brought that back on time.” That means that on no drugs, my verbal acuity is 100 percent.
Party Conditions: Scared of Vampires
Testing the emotional effects of a drug was going to be difficult. Summer camp movies suggested that I have a wise Indian chief shoot at me with enchanted arrows that could not pierce the joyful of heart, but I quickly decided against that. Instead, I would put myself into some kind of familiar party situation and do my best to judge how screwed up I’m acting. Normally you measure how hard you party by the amount of Mariachi bands and livestock you wake up next to. If that happens during testing, the party situation will receive a numerical score. Otherwise, its description will be adjectival. The party situation also acts as an opportunity to mix each drug with alcohol, the effects of which I was curious .
On Day One, without any herbal stimuli, I went drinking with some friends at a dark cocktail bar decorated entirely in black and red velvet. As the night went on, I spotted a few too many people wearing corsets and capes, and then noticed how the paintings on the wall were made out of what had to be human scabs. This was not a bar, but a vampire trap. So according to this control group test, when I’m not on herbal drugs I’m afraid that people are waiting for just the right opportunity to lock all the doors, turn into bats and chew on my neck. Keep this in mind when comparing this with the results from the various intoxicants.
Salvia Divinorum (Herbal Ecstacy)
Cost Per Dose: $10
The bottle of Salvia Divinorum told me to dissolve four of the triangular black pills under my tongue. I assumed that was probably the recommended dosage for some fruity dancing high school kid dressed like candy, so I put six in my mouth. This was a mistake. The horrible flavor of herbs and dirt was mixed with a minty disaster causing the drug to taste like some magical peppermint fairy took a crap in my mouth. While I barely resisted the urge to spit them all out and go find some modeling glue to suck on, it took about 15 minutes for the pills to completely dissolve. For the sake of science, I did my best to remain open-minded about salvia whatever, but 15 minutes of ass under my tongue was not a good start.
Crossword Puzzling: 62
While waiting for the “conscious dream” promised by the drug’s packaging, I found that there was little significant effect on my crossword puzzling skill. I finished in 62 minutes, slightly slower than normal, in the exact same mood as when I started.
Power Lifting: 5
While herbal ecstacy did not give me superhuman strength, the tiny chunks of non-dissolved grit I would find in my teeth gave me the rage necessary to lift the weight one extra time.
Verbal Acuity: 50 percent
Earlier this week at Hollywood Video, I’d been late in returning Skyskraper (1995), one of two action/panties movies that stars Anna Nicole Smith. This was before she married a mummy and expanded to unstoppable size. While I tried to talk my way out of the late fee, I created an incredible story about the VCR breaking with the tape inside it and the VCR repairman going on vacation. I even knew where the imaginary repairman vacationed. The clerk seemed to believe it even though my breath must have smelled like I was eating out of a litter box. Still, he countered with some nonsense about how he “wishes he could but can’t” take off the late fee. Desperate to keep the debate open, I started explaining how Anna Nicole Smith’s Skyskraper is like Die Hard with huge, huge boobs. This made him uncomfortable enough to let me pay next time I was in. Final analysis: partial loss of verbal acuity.
Party Conditions: Drunken Rubbing
I went with my friends to a dance club for further testing. It had been two hours post-ingestion and I still could not convince myself that I felt anything other than cheated. Normally someone on ecstacy buries their head in a speaker, rubs themselves in a corner or obnoxiously reminds nearby people how special they are. I had no desire to do any of that. I asked some nearby women to rub on me, for science, which was nice, but not on any kind of enhanced hallucinogenic level. After another hour of nothing, I finally decided that the best way to make herbal ecstacy work would be to mix it with 14 shots of vodka. My friends assured me that around that time, the drug was making me very happy, although after I woke up on a couch I didn’t recognize in bodily fluids that didn’t smell like mine, I don’t think they can be trusted. Final analysis: If herbal ecstacy gets you high, you’re either drunk or lying.
Mood Modulator (Sensory-Enhancing Body Buzz)
Cost per Dose: $3.75
I was worried about skewed test results since I was slightly more hungover today on Day Three than I was on Day Two. Luckily, Mood Modulator came with a complimentary bottle of herbal Hangover Helper tablets. I took a couple of these, causing my hangover to remain, but my burps now tasted like potting soil. Doing my best to ignore that, I took a little blue Mood Modulator pill. Within eight minutes I had cottonmouth AND was salivating. It was miserable, but at least it was a side effect. That’s infinitely more effect than herbal ecstacy had on me.
Crossword Puzzling: Results Inconclusive
Since I had to get up about every thirty seconds for another glass of water and the pill was starting to make me sleepy, I had trouble giving a damn about finishing this crossword puzzle. Ten minutes into it, I said to hell with science – I’m doing something else. Before I left, I decided to revolutionize the world of crossword puzzle comedy by writing down a 16 letter word for “Alliterative Hollywood starlet” as “Admiral-Asscream.”
Power Lifting: 2
Sleepy, cottonmouthed and dripping spit from my face, I’d lost 50 percent of my strength.
Verbal Acuity: 105 percent I went in to talk my way out of a late fee for, I swear to God, How to Have a Moneymaking Garage Sale, Starring Phyllis Diller. I repeat: Swear to God. I felt bad about ruining the Crossword Puzzling test for this drug, so I gave myself an extra Verbal Acuity Challenge by renting an embarrassing movie at the same time. I chose Pleasurecraft, a movie that looked like it was about SEXY women in space. When the clerk told me I had a late fee for How to Have a Moneymaking Garage Sale, Starring Phyllis Diller, I told her that I was tired of her damn store trying to rip me off. The fact that I was half asleep kept me from laughing at this point which is a good thing, since I had so much spit building up in my mouth that my laugh could have driven her through the window behind her and still hosed out a fire miles away. I talked my way out of the late fee masterfully on Mood Modulator, as you can see by this transcription:
Clerk: “It was due... Tuesday at midnight. You brought it back some time on Wednesday.”
Me: “The dude at the counter... the... tall one, he said Wednesday. I remember, because Wednesdays are... blrbll... mmmrmbl.”
Clerk: “Okay. Let me just take that off there... okay. So you’re just getting Pleasurecr- ... um... just this movie then tonight?”
Party Conditions: Scared of Robots
A friend of mine was having his 28th birthday at Chuck E. Cheese’s, the perfect family setting to test herbal quaaludes. I soon found out that in addition to all the other side effects, I was starting to lose the circulation in my hands. To make matters worse, I was still not high. However, I was starting to get a serious case of paranoia. This may not be the drug’s fault; it could have been from the clanking, horrifying animatronic robot band that was performing a song about summertime on the stage near our table. Without trying to alarm the robots, I escaped as quickly as possible. I found a game where I could punch tiny ducks with a spring-loaded punching bag that helped me get the blood flowing back to my hands and also won me enough tickets to trade in for a miniature toy blender. I noticed in the car that it was incorrectly spelled by the Chinese sweatshop workers as BLENDOR. This convinced me that I’d gone in for pizza and fun, but come out with BLENDOR, the dark lord of all blending. This did not help my paranoia at all. Final analysis: Mood Modulator would be great if you needed to take a nap, get scared of robots or wash a car with your unbelievable amount of spit. Otherwise, it’s pretty useless.
Reality Relaxer (Herbal Muscle Relaxer)
Cost Per Dose: $3.75
I took the red capsule, doing my best to expect some kind of drug-like symptom. The packaging said it would be a buzz “kind of like a combination muscle realxer [hippies make bad copy editors] and painkiller all rolled into one.” I made a mental note of how wise I was not to make Heavy Machinery Operation one of my tests.
Crossword Puzzling: 47
I was worried that a blissful relaxation of my muscles might diminish my reading comprehension and pencil speed enough to make a crossword puzzle last hours. Luckily, this drug also didn’t seem to be working and I was able to get through the crossword puzzle even faster than when I wasn’t doing fake drugs.
Power Lifting: 4
Whether my muscles were relaxed or not, they still lifted the same amount of weight.
Verbal Acuity: 0 percent
When discussing my late fee for Hotel Exotica, a movie about SEXY women giving each other SEXY backrubs in an enchanted hotel, the male manager was very stern about me paying the late fee. No amount of storytelling was going to get me out of it. I contemplated telling him I was on Reality Relaxer and that I’d recently discovered it would have no effect on how hard my punch was going to hit his stomach, but eventually just threw down the copy of Anna Nicole Smith’s To The Limit I was holding and stormed out, doing my best to look outraged as I started laughing. I made a mental note of how wise I would be never to go back to this particular video store.
Party Conditions: Milwaukee’s Best
It was about an hour and a half after I’d taken Reality Relaxer, and still feeling nothing, I went to a barbecue. A few of my friends were aware of my drug experiment and were nice enough to trick me into a hallucination by putting on Halloween masks, circling me and shrieking about murder. I knew it was them, but that didn’t stop me from trying to bash one with a shovel. After another hour of nothing drug-like happening, I gave the Reality Relaxer a turbo boost with 22 Milwaukee’s Best beers. Soon I found myself in a karaoke bar drinking with a guy claiming to be the karate master to the stars. I know you might think that the combination of fake muscle relaxants and an after-school special’s worth of liquor would make a person sleepy, but somehow they combined to create an entire night of unwanted insomnia. Final analysis: If a muscle relaxant is supposed to do nothing except keep you tossing and turning all night, then this is a complete success.
Clonibus (Legal Marijuana)
Cost: $20 per ounce
Native to northern China, Yen Chen Hao is used in Chinese herbal medicine. And according to the bag, it gets you giggly and happy without the mind fog or legal hassles of real marijuana. However, digital-drugstore.com warns that “‘Legal pot’ products are a rip-off. They are designed to look and smell like marijuana, but the herbs in them at best make you drowsy. Don’t be fooled.” I have to say that after taking three drugs that had basically no effect on me and then being warned by the actual people selling “legal pot” about how “legal pot” doesn’t work, I was not expecting much out of Clonibus.
Crossword Puzzling: 0
In what can only be described as a heroic attempt to get high, a friend and I smoked 1/4 of an ounce of this crap. It took us a little over 90 minutes, and my throat was so torn up I could barely talk. I did manage to gravel out, “Science can kiss my ass. I’m not doing another damn crossword puzzle.” It was just then I heard a knock at the door, thought it might be a fake cop, and in a panic to hide my fake pot, started eating my stash. I ate what we estimated to be another 1/4 of an ounce before I got tired of chewing on the many, many sticks no one bothered to take out.
Power Lifting: 0
Clonibus did sort of smell and taste like pot, and there were a few times when we almost managed to manufacture some kind of psychosomatic high. In the end, the best we could do was a slight dizzy queasiness. Of course, no matter what you smoke, if you do it for an hour and a half, you’re going to get enough toxins in your system to mess something in there up. Needless to say, I was in no mood to lift weights. Test results: complete loss of all physical strength.
Verbal Acuity: -50 percent
This is no joke: before I left for the video store, I was coughing up blood into my toilet. That’s how much Yen Chen Hao we smoked. I was so grumpy and scratchy-voiced by the time I was talking my way out of my Erotic Deception late fee, I think that bastard clerk ADDED a dollar. Test results: This is not a social drug.
Party Conditions: Un-high Still not high but significantly poisoned, I went with a group of pals to a dive sports bar for pitchers of Pabst and a pro wrestling pay-per-view. Like with real pot, there were a few moments where I really wanted a hot dog but was too drowsy to figure out a way to get a hot dog. That was as close to baked as I got. What was truly tragic is that Clonibus seemed to have diminished my American spirit. I noticed that after the Rock lost the championship belt to the bad guy, I felt no desire to shout out at the evil world that would let something like that happen. Final analysis: Ninety minutes of smoke inhalation and a stripped, bleeding air passage are too high a price for what barely qualifies as dizziness. The lesson we can all take away from this is that if you want to get high, and can’t do so with your own pluckiness and positive attitude, you will probably have to break the law.
So there you have it folks. If you wanna check out this guys other works, which include reviews for Turkish remakes of American movies such as The Exorcist (and yes they are all real), as well as commentary on the darker, stranger parts of society, then you can check out his official website (*note-has not been updated in some time):
OR you can check out his archives from the Wave Magazine:
Both are full of hillarity, if you are into that sort of thing.
That's it for now, niggas.
Current Mood: hyper
Current Music: Cadaver Inc.: Discipline
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