Hold the Glimmer

Archive for the ‘I’m the asshole’ Category

Jerk the Glimmer

Posted by: on: March 27, 2012

(Hi. Hello. My name’s Duke.  That’s not my real name.  Some of you know my real name, but that’s neither here nor there.  Many of you have yet to grasp that I post on this blog too – and when I write, it’s in blue – hence the blue font you’re reading.  Contrary to popular belief, I have never used online dating to find men – not that I wouldn’t – I just don’t like men, or online dating.  Tracy does, and that’s fucking weird, which is why I share a blog with that weird sexy bitch.  Anyway, this is just a public service announcement to let you know who I am, again, and what color I write in, again.  Now back to your regularly scheduled pissing and moaning…)

I’m still shaking off the depression from reading Tracy’s rant about seeing the sun after work.  Fuck the sun and its mocking glare, sadistically laughing at me in my windowless closet!  Whoa, ok, let’s pull it in – I actually like the sun, and daylight savings time, because I hate waking up and leaving work in darkness like a goddamn Alaskan (they’re not reading us up there anymore, are they Tracy?).

Through the first tangent and onto the next one…  You’re lucky you live in an age where people who used to get paid for talent now give it away for free – thanks again, interweb.  At least it keeps the pedophiles at home surfing the Gymboree catalogue instead of out trolling playgrounds with primer colored vans marked “FREE CANDY” on the side.  Too on the nose?  I like to set the bar high early on, just as a litmus test.  If you’re still with us, you are creepy – and that turns us right on.  Speaking of creepers and interwebs, did you hear/see/read Rick Santorum’s comments about internet porn perpetuating vile and deviant behavior in today’s public?  I just want to thank Rick Santorum (if you haven’t yet found out what “Santorum” is, please google it – I can’t repeat the definition here because it makes me blush), and the entire right-wing candidate pool for always giving me something to talk about when I have absolutely nothing to share with you people.  I always thought it would be hilarious to run for President under a fake persona and just exaggerate every socially regressive talking point until the American public realized it was being fucked with – Borat style – and started laughing at how ridiculous political discourse had become… but the character I’d invent would be just like Rick Santorum, or Sarah Palin, or Michelle Bachmann, or Newt Gingrich, or Mitt Romney… and the American public already takes these people seriously.  I guess anyone with a microphone has to be treated as if their “ideas” are legitimately viable.

Where was I?  Oh right… Rick Santorum said he wants a more strict reading of obscenity laws so he can protect the public from the vile harms of internet pornography.  Porn, according to Santorum, is toxic to marriages and relationships, and contributes to misogyny, violence against women, prostitution, and sex trafficking.  Nevermind that studies have shown that sexual assault and rape have declined considerably since the advent of the internet.  I suppose there’s no proof of a causal relationship there, but I don’t know any other invention that made access to orgasmic release easier, cheaper and safer for the public at large.  As much as I talk shit about the internet for draining people of their capacity to retain knowledge (I don’t remember, just google it), and dumbed down their personalities to the point of their individuality being nothing more than an ability to share ideas and art that other people have created – I still think it’s an amazing, interesting, vital, filthy, disgusting, beautiful tool that shouldn’t be censored in the slightest.  Personally, I’ve never seen internet pornography, but I hear good things – and if you have access, you should give it a try some time (and feel free to review your favorites right here in the comments section, or on our facebook page – like us, follow us, please or Tracy will beat me – click the button!).

Furthermore, (sorry, I have to get this train back on track) he’s accused the Obama administration of siding with pornographers over children, because the federal government isn’t out shutting down all nudey sites (not like they have anything more important to do).  Rick has vowed to do what Obama could not – raise America’s kids, because after all, that’s what we’re looking for in a President.  Even his own party is criticizing him for putting too much emphasis on social issues like this one.  But, he and his running mate, Rush Limbaugh, will hold steadfast in desluttifying America and making it repent for its sins.  Papa Santorum knows best, now go back upstairs and put some gosh darned clothes on!

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TGIDGAF- Thank God I Don’t Give A…Friday…

Posted by: on: March 16, 2012

Whatsup, Ireland? How’s it going, Ecuador? Good to see you Germany and Indonesia!  Thanks for stopping by, Alaska! (Listen, it’s practically its own country and I betcha a few Palin’s will 2nd the motion. (and in one swift sentence, there go all of our Alaskan readers, floating away on glaciers with their polar bears and igloos…TRACY, SHUT UP ALREADY.)) 

I wanted to start this post with a big shout out, thanking all of our international readers for checking out the blog!  We’re so happy to be a click in your day! Now, you are more than likely an actual friend (shock- we actually have them) reading these words, who’s left the warming embrace of political, social, and economic turmoil, also known as “The United States of America,” for greener pastures in other countries (ya, I’m talking to you, Hamburg), but you have no idea the absolutely absurd amounts of value I place upon you.  While some may believe that hounding your friends to read your eloquent words formed into barely readable sentences is hardly considered notable “hits” for a blog, I have much lower expectations (morals/values/whatever) and appreciate each and every one of you bowing down to peer pressure.  Not only have you accepted my bullying, you’re actually passing this blog around to your little commie/socialist/grass skirt wearing friends (we are an actual blog. We have stats. I know exactly who you are.  Don’t trip…I know no names, only exact locations where blog was accessed.  I kid. We’re not that creepy. I think…)

Can someone explain to me the significance of daylight savings time in 2012?  Yes, I specified 2012.  I did not ask the significance of daylight savings time in 1912, where every household had at least four working family members, a block of ice for a freezer, and a butter churner in the back yard.  Ok, maybe it wasn’t that drastic. Maybe it was?  Any time period pre- regular automobile ownership is something I will never comprehend.  I have a hard enough time watching Don Draper manually change the TV channel on Mad Men (but MAN I can TOTALLY get behind drinking scotch and smoking in the workplace..), let alone understanding the complexities of a 1912 lifestyle.  What I’m trying to get at here is that we no longer need to subscribe to the idea that farmers need more daylight, while we’re dragging ass for a few days adjusting to a time that was forced upon us. 

And what the fuck, world? Some states participate, some don’t? Some countries do, some countries don’t?  Apparently, Indonesia sat down last year and said “meh, we don’t want to do daylight savings time this year…” What? How? Who declared this and why can’t we vote on it in California? And, really, what kind of ass-backwards state do WE live in requiring more daylight and fewer homos?  SWITCH THAT UP PLEASE.

PS- Do you know how incredibly depressing it is watching the sunrise on your morning commute and then watching the sunset during your afternoon drive home?  (Don’t get me started on new traffic congestion because people are now blinded by the rays on the drive home.  Buy some sunglasses, flip your mirror down; we’ll all get through this together.)  Although my office is awesome, it’s still INDOORS.  It’s like the world is telling me “HAHA! How much would you have enjoyed THIS today?!?”

-Tangent- It’s an incredibly sobering feeling when you realize you can no longer online date for lack of quality men.  Listen, I’m not searching for the finest cut filet mignon.  Although I love filet mignon, I would choose a New York (unless you’re buying, because HELLO- New York cut is ten times more flavorful without that bougie filet price tag…).  Ya, I’m using steak as an analogy for online dating.  You understood it, so stop judging me (and if you didn’t, brush up on your beef knowledge before messaging me on facebook again.  You’ll have even more potential to become my actual friend. Need even more of a backstory? Go here:http://wp.me/pHfRF-3m ) Almost every single person I’ve met online has been a complete opposite of what their elaborate profile described to me.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve met a few (very, very, VERY FEW) genuine guys from this whole experience, but not enough to make me believe that you’re not all a bunch of liars.  A couple tips, guys: 

  • Don’t send me a picture from 2008, hell anything earlier than August 2011.  I don’t care that you seemed to be the “man” in a picture with a sombrero and 30 stacked solo cups in Cabo.  It’s Cabo.  My parents have the same exact pictures, in the same exact bar, at their time share.  I’m sure it was an awesome trip, and you just love the way your skin glows, but you’re 40 lbs heavier in real life and balding.  Fortunately, you’re still moderately attractive in real life, but how can I not judge someone creating this “I’m wealthy with a full head of hair and ripped abs” persona online, who shows up at a bar in Tevas with a gut. 
  • We’re in LA, not the Colorado outback. Get rid of your Tevas.
  • I’m sure your bff4LYFE is this super hot chick that you drooled over in high school, only to become besties over facebook in college after being rejected too many times.  That’s awesome, really.  Maybe refrain from putting every single picture of the two of you on your profile?  I promise there is little to no competition, but I want to know you’re not looking for a third in the bedroom as I peruse your digital problems.
  • It’s weird emphasizing your mom is your best friend.  My mom is my best “mom” friend, but my best friend is my best friend, not my mom.  My parents are awesome and we’re super close, but (and they’ll remind you..) they’re not my friends.  They are my parents.  They have friends that are a lot cooler than some “20 something chick” they created that drunken, hazy night in the 80’s.  True story- At 10 years old, I tried “running away” after an argument  and in the midst of searching for my favorite stuffed animal (totally necessary)my Dad swooped into my room, packed my bag, walked me downstairs, opened the front door, ushered me out of the house and said “Best of luck! Call me when you find a family better than this one!”  Real bonding moment with Dad there… As excited as I am in wow-ing your folks with my…charm…I have little to no interest in shopping for lingerie with your Mom or calling her to gossip about orgasm articles in Cosmo.  You should feel the same way.

 My bigger problem is figuring out where one goes once realizing online dating just won’t work.  Do I join an anonymous help group? Is there some kind of “singles only” farm we get shipped off to?  Speaking of farms…..I was going through some old photo albums a while ago and found a picture of our first family dog, Samantha. 

“Aww, Mom! Look! Samantha! She was so sweet to me…” –me

“Ya, until she tried to attack your brother when we first brought him home from the hospital.” –mom

“Um…What?” –me

“Your brother was sleeping on your lap and Samantha was insanely jealous.  She jumped onto the couch and almost bit his face off. We had to put her down after that.” –mom

“EXCUSE ME?!” –me

“Honey, how many times do we have to go over this?  She also attacked the neighbors, the neighbor’s kids; she was an old, aggressive beast.  There was no other option.” –Mom

(my face goes blank. My jaw drops to an almost unhinged level.)

“Mom. Wait. Are you fucking kidding me right now?” –me

“Oh, come on. What’s wrong now?” –Mom

“MOM. YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU AND DAD TOOK HER TO A FAMILY THAT HAD A FARM OUTSIDE OF SAN DIEGO WHERE SHE COULD RUN AROUND AND HAVE MORE DOGS TO PLAY WITH!!!!!!” –me

“Oh, you believed that?” –Mom

“WHAT WAS MY OTHER OPTION, MOM?!?!? I WAS FIVE YEARS OLD!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU NEVER TOLD ME AND LET ME LIVE THIS LIE FOR TWENTY YEARS?!?!?” –me

Don’t get me started on the story of my second best friend and pet fish- Bubbles.  I’m still fuming.

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#Shit Duke Says…

Posted by: on: March 8, 2012

He awoke from the haze of a six month hangover on March the 8th, in this foul year of our lord 2012…

Shit.  It’s Thursday.  I’m stuck in a box with no windows.  And somewhere outside this dim closet the sun is shining on people who’ve probably made far better life choices than myself – or yourselves, for that matter.  Because if you had any brains you’d be out there enjoying the day too, instead of slaving away for time off you’ll never get to take.

Let’s stop right there before I take you to the dark place too early.  Explanations will not be administered for where I’ve been and why I haven’t written.  Those of you who know me understand that I tend to disappear for hours, days, months at a time.  If you don’t know me… well, you’re starting to get the picture.  Our inconsistent rapport will eventually lead you to the conclusion that I’m the trainwreck cousin who shows up at Thanksgiving with a different look and new trashy girlfriend every year, only to rail against an establishment I never quite challenged head-on, then leaves sloppy drunk and doesn’t call again until Christmas – to tell you things have changed and I’ll be doing missionary work in Liberia through spring.

There I go rambling again.  The point I was trying to make is that Whitney Houston was a terrific singer, and it’s a fucking tragedy what happened.  Whitney, and Amy Whinehouse, and Lindsay Lohan… what? Oh Lindsay’s still alive?  She can’t sing, either?  Sigh… where have all the talented drug addicts gone?  I wonder if heaven’s got a coke dealer…

Alright let’s reel this thing in, because I haven’t even started yet, I don’t think.  So let’s focus on the substance.  The real reason I haven’t written, besides the lack of motivation, time, or thoughts worthy of wasting paper/webspace – is that nobody reads anymore.  Sure, you read the headlines that NPR posts on facebook.  But when was the last time you finished the article?  No, you’re into the internet memes about what your parents think you do and what you really do (spoiler: your parents think you do nothing that matters, you actually do nothing that matters).  You’re checking out the gif of some kitty falling off a table, or the latest youtube video about Shit Douchebags Say (something  something something FAG! something something let’s get some PUSSY!).  And if you  feel the itch to make a difference in the world, update your status to what color bra you’re wearing to fight against breast cancer, or grow out your chest hair to show solidarity with Greek austerity.  But you’re certainly too busy being interesting to care about what anyone really has to say, or what’s actually going on around you.  You’re too fucking busy being an armchair activist.  Maybe you’re sitting there saying “well what the hell have you ever done to make a difference?”  “Not a mother flippin’ thing,” I reply.  And even if I had (which I have), I wouldn’t tell you – because I’d rather entertain you with my sins, and hedge them privately with good deeds, like putting strippers through college.

All you have to do, to change the fucking world, is watch this goddamn video, and share it with 13 people, or else Kony is going to steal your grandmother in the night and make her a Ugandan prostitute. Isn’t this just a sophisticated version of the old chain emails from myspace?  Facefuck has become an amazing place, where information is shared and movements have taken shape.  But I hate to burst your bubble, awareness is not a movement.  Cures, solutions, revolutions, they don’t come about because you’re aware of the problem.  If people sat around at work and sent each other videos of kids dying from Staph infection – we’d still be waiting for someone to invent penicillin.  Hitler didn’t burn in a bunker because of viral internet memes making fun of his Michael Jordan mustache and love for killing Jews.  And, as powerful as twitter is, it still couldn’t stop Ahmadinejad from stealing another election and throwing anyone who protested in jail.  So keep updating your statuses to complain about gas prices – just don’t forget who’s slapping economic sanctions on who next time you’re at the pump.  Hashtag just sayin…

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Political Dysentery

Posted by: on: October 5, 2011

Dear, sweet, beautiful readers… I’ve missed you.  I hope you all had a great summer staring longingly out of your office windows at the birds chirping in the sunlit trees.  My office doesn’t have windows.  And the door is locked from the outside.  But that’s neither here nor there.  I truly missed you.  I tried to just have fun and not think about the wonderful times we’ve spent together – but, in the end, I just couldn’t stay away.  I care too much about your entertainment, and have far too many thoughts to leave them rotting in my own head.  So much has happened in the world since we last spoke.  Michael Jackson’s drug dealer, Dr. Murray, went on trial; Charlie Sheen got roasted like a crack rock in Amy Whinehouse’s apartment; Georgia put an innocent man to death and let a guilty man go free (guess which one wasn’t White);  Sarah Palin fucked an NBA player and her husband’s business partner (guess which one wasn’t White); protests on Wall Street have been going on for three weeks now (but American news only caught wind of it about two weeks after foreign journalists broke the story – whaaat a country); and of course Tracy got a new job!  Congrats on your success and happiness, dear friend!
 
The topic for discussion today, however, is politics… dun dun duuuunnnnn.  Can you feel that weird energy in the air?  We don’t know what the problem is, who the culprit is, how to solve it, why it happened, or to which country we should emigrate.  All we know is, Americans are not happy – and it’s the dark fella’s fault.  We’ve been tread on by new taxes (false), new government run health insurance (false) – new mandates to confiscate all firearms, force abortions, and subsidize flamboyantly gay roommates for everyone (false, false and false).  But never mind all that – it doesn’t matter what is true or false anymore because real hardworking Americans (wink wink) have decided they’re going to take their country back – so you better nail down the furniture, board up the windows and brace yourselves.
 
If you haven’t seen any of the Republican primary debates, let me paint a picture for you – it’s like watching 8 used car salesmen auction off the General Lee to a group of recently paroled hate-criminals.  In other words, it’s a fucking hootenanny.  The candidates, while terrifying in their own right, have been scrambling to match intensity with the frenzied audience of psychotics and sociopaths who clearly smell impure African blood in the water – and I’m not talking about Herman Cain, the most out of place Black guy since Token from South Park.  Herman Cain is an ex pizza boy; the former CEO of Godfather’s – probably the worst cardboard excuse for pizza available on the market.  He made the company profitable by closing over half its locations – so he’s obviously qualified to create jobs during these tough economic times.  Now I could tell you he’s a mathematician, master of computer science, syndicated columnist and former ballistics engineer for the US Navy – but that would be neither funny nor entertaining… And although Mr. Cain is probably the candidate least likely to earn a reality TV spin-off – he’s still crazy enough to say out loud, in front of cameras, that Planned Parenthood was created to “help kill Black babies,” and that communities should have the right to ban mosques.  Furthermore, he’s proposing to somehow balance the budget by only charging 9 (NEIN NEIN NEIN) percent across the board on personal/corporate/sales taxes.  Look people, I know nobody wants to pay taxes, but that’s how our government funds things like roads, bridges, schools, law enforcement, national security, disaster relief, social services, et cetera, et cetera.  Despite the masses in the streets crying bloody murder over the possibility of the highest of the high class getting taxed at 39% instead of 35% (which will certainly usher in a new era of communism), back in the fabled 1950’s (“when the streets were safe” and bathrooms were segregated) the top bracket was taxed 70%.  Yeah, you read that right – rich people, err I mean job creators, were paying SEVENTY PERCENT of their income in taxes and STILL living like royalty. 
 
Enough of the sane and sober Herman Cain, you won’t be hearing much about him in the coming months anyway.  Let’s pick on someone a little more fun – like the esteemed governor of Texas.  James Richard “Rick” Perry is the guy George W. calls up when he needs someone to beat at checkers.  He was a real crowd pleaser at the debates when roars and cheers boomed from yahoos upon the declaration that his great state had murdered, I mean executed over 230 prisoners under his watch – mentally handicapped and women included!  Hot damn, now that’s something he can feel proud of while relaxing at his favorite retreat, Niggerhead Hunting Camp.  And, much like Dubya, Perry too was a male cheerleader with a distaste for academia in college; who also happens to think our nations problems can be solved through prayer, instead of, you know – science and stuff.  Are you ready for a story?  This year the lone star state suffered through a terrible drought.  In early April, about 15% of the state was under extreme duress from lack of rain – and wildfires had slowly begun to spread.  Governor Perry, knowing it was time for a leader to spring into action, did the most logical thing – he held a statewide prayer-a-thon, dubbed “Days of Prayer for Rain in the State of Texas” from April 22-24.  So all the good citizens took the weekend off from lassoing cattle and shooting beer cans, to hunker down and ask Jesus to send water from the sky to nourish their crops and stop the fires.  But God, angered by the insufficient amount of cross burnings, turned His back on His faithful servants until nearly 80% of the state was charred and dried like a tasty hunk of jerky.  Though I suppose Rick can’t be blamed for the Almighty’s negligence, it does beg the question – is God reliable enough to be called upon when President Perry takes office? 
 
Speaking of reliable negligence – Michele Bachmann.  Did you laugh just then?  I did.  I wonder how far she could fit a corn dog in her mouth…  
 
 
Oh Lord.  Tracy… I just… I can’t… I… alright, fuck it.  So here’s Michele Bachmann gagging on a huge dong, I mean dog.  How’s that for Presidential?  Looks like she learned the skill from her husband, Marcus (right) – who, by the way, is totally not gay, and totally doesn’t run a camp for psychologically converting homosexuals.  They’re just good people on a mission from God to teach children that evolution is an unfounded theory, and everyone in the world came from one couple, sharing the same genes – which is why it’s OK to marry your sister.  She’s against educational programs like the International Baccalaureate because they don’t expressly recognize Christianity’s superiority over all other religions.  But, this isn’t about Christian bashing – don’t let me make this a religious issue.  Michele is so much more than a socially conservative fundamentalist – she’s also openly stupid, or at least assumes we are.  This is a woman who, upon hearing China’s suggestion in 2009 that the world should stop using the Dollar as its reserve currency – immediately claimed the Obama administration was trying to force Americans to use the Yen, and proposed a resolution to bar the dollar from being replaced by foreign currency.  Seriously.  She even attacked Rick Perry on probably the only logical piece of policy he ever saw through – the mandatory free vaccination of women for the Human Papillomavirus, which if left untreated could turn into cervical cancer (God’s way of punishing fornicators – fuck, I went religious again).  Bachmann is firmly rooted in the belief that the President of the United States of America, as well as many members of Congress, are secretly anti-American – and the media should embark on an in-depth exposé on just how many of these public officials actually hate our country.  As much as I would love to dismiss her as just another Sarah Palin/Christine O’Donnell idiot yokel with a snowball’s chance in hell at the presidency – that would be naive.  The woman has a law degree from Oral Roberts (teehee), a masters of law from William and Mary, and is a serious political junkie.  She’s been an advocate from a young age, and even pounded the pavement for Jimmy Carter back in the 70s; yet lays into President Obama by comparing him to the “socialist” Carter.  She was a tax attorney for the IRS, yet is somehow completely against taxes.  Must be hard talking out of both sides when your mouth’s full!  So who is Michele Bachmann and what’s really going on behind that crazy evangelical scheming blank stare of hers?  Keep crying about “Obamacare” and you might just have the displeasure of finding out…
 
 This one is for all my libertarian freedom-from-government friends who have been blinded by the smoke and mirrors of Ron Paul’s hypocrisy.  Nevermind the fact that he won’t get anywhere close to winning this election.  Forget that he is absolutely a conspiracy theorist and probably batshit crazy (almost as much as his idiot son, Rand Paul).  Yes – the Fed is bad.  They have fucked us.  Yes we need to get out of Iraq and Afghanistan.  And yes, medical marijuana should be decriminalized.  Now that we got that out of the way – how about this… Ron Paul is against a woman’s right to choose.  He thinks his religious beliefs regarding when life begins should give the government the right to ban abortion.  He made a huge splash at the GOP debates when he was asked if an uninsured man who slipped into a coma should be treated.  Doctor Paul’s response, “What he should do is whatever he wants to do and assume responsibility for himself.  That’s what freedom is all about, taking your own risk.” Right, pull yourself up by the bootstraps, you fucking vegetable.  No handouts!  Atlas Shrugged!  Zig Heil!  Sorry, I got ahead of myself there… but when pressed on whether he thought this person should die, the crowd – again hungry for blood – screamed “YEAH!”  Holy shit people!  What fucking country do I live in?  I don’t know how you can claim to be, or aspire to be, the greatest nation on Earth if you’re completely against the idea that everybody, no matter the circumstance, should at least have the right to medical treatment.  I get that the government isn’t a charity, but maybe it’s my crazy liberal upbringing that makes me believe that as the overseer of this massive state, it should at least provide the basic services that aren’t supposed to turn a profit.  Libertarians like to hang their hat on the idea that we don’t need government; that private businesses and non-profit organizations can take care of everything.  They won’t.  They do not.  Private businesses beget greed and turn simple services into dollar signs.  Non-profit organizations can hardly stand on their own two feet most of the time.  But the government – which is not some foreign entity, it’s us – people, much like yourselves – could provide those services if we just allowed them.  Instead, you clamor for them to raise your kids for you, tell you what you shouldn’t do with your body, and decide which country we should be meddling with this week.  Freedom from government when it suits my fucking purpose is more like it.
 
 Are you starting to feel my frustration here?  Let me abandon this form and just shoot you straight.  There’s a lot of complaining going on out there about how ineffective Barack Obama has been.  It’s been a tooth and nail battle, and his opposition has played power politics every step of the way.  So do not, for one second, think this is the best that could have been done.  But also don’t be fooled – it could have been way, way, way waaaaaay worse.  You could have Mitt “buy nearly bankrupt companies, fire 90% of the labor force and sell for profit” Romney.  You might get Newt “blow me in the parking lot while my wife is in chemotherapy”  Gingrich.  Or, God forbid, Rick “reinstate Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” Santorum.  It’s a bleak pack out there, and the rest of the also-rans aren’t even worth mentioning.  I can tell you this much though – no candidate in the running has absolutely any plan of moving this country forward.  The only resolution being suggested (in about 9 different flavors) is to roll back the progress we’ve made, and stick to the original status quo of letting the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer.  I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be let down by someone who shares my sense of social and financial justice, than proper fucked by someone who couldn’t care less about anyone making less than seven figures.  So check your bank account before making your final decision – because there is 1 guy who isn’t working for the best interest of millionaires, and a hungry fucking pack of hyenas who are.  We’ve got 13 months until the Presidential election, and now is the time to get over all disappointments and disillusionment.  As hard as it is to sell “not as bad as it could have been” you really have to realize how bad it almost was.  Word around the rumor mill is that Sarah Palin (even after everything) is quietly looking to throw her mama grizzly hat into the ring, so look forward to more fiery political rants in this space [note: as of right now, 4pm 10/3/11 Palin announced she will not be running – but that won’t derail the Fear Party Express or our countinued coverage].  Till next time.  Vote responsibly.
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Sorry Ma’am, I’m a Man

Posted by: on: May 31, 2011

Duke:  So I’m not going to dwell on this subject, because it was such a major disappointment to us all… but by now you know, The Rapture didn’t happen.  Or, according to good old Grandpa Harold, it happened – just not in the fire and brimstone and earthquakes and “form a single file line so you can be judged by the Great Scorer” kind of way.  However, the world is still going to end on October 21st, so don’t worry about picking a Halloween costume for the masquerade ball (you were going to dress like a slut with ears anyway).  Moving on…
 
Tracy:  HALT!  I am not merely “moving on” from this subject.  This isn’t a subject you can just throw away like a used paper towel or cover up like a drug run gone poorly.  Harold Camping negatively affected my life.  Do you realize how many flash mobs I created in Las Vegas last weekend, having to define and defend the Rapture?  Do you know how many people deemed me downright psycho, on the Las Vegas strip of all places?  Do you realize the extent of the conversation I had with my slightly too religious mother (I worship her, I swear I do.  More often than not, her purity is almost angelic and I question exiting her womb on a daily basis.  It’s just that- my mom is perfect.)  Harold Camping is not getting away with this by merely suggesting a new date.  I will not be duped into believing or accepting his apology.  I want an explanation.  I want an explanation now.
 
Duke:  ok ok ok ok ok.  ok.  alright.  okay.  You want an explanation – theatrics were expected, messiahs were promised, and like a little Jewish boy on Christmas, you were left with nothing but pencils and dress socks – I understand.  Think of all the schmucks who actually spent their retirement funds helping this old kook spread his message with billboards and pamphlets.  People moved entire families across the country so they could be closer to their leader (and have 3 extra hours of prayer before getting Raptor’d).  I personally spent a total of 5 work hours contemplating my impending doom, so let me know if there’s a class action suit we can get in on.  Anyway, as was expected, Mr. Camping was nowhere to be found Monday morning, May 23rd.  He took his time preparing his message, coming into the Family Radio station late that evening to deliver a somber statement.  And when he finally spoke to his congregation, via mass broadcast, he claimed that The Rapture actually had occurred.  But, it was a “spiritual” rapture (whatever the hell that means), and the world will still meet its demise on October 21st, as originally planned – without a doubt, you can bet your sweet asses.  Then, sounds of rustling could be heard from inside the studio, followed shortly by the cocking of a handgun, and the firing of a single shot… 
 
Have we beaten that dead horse into glue yet?  Now to move onto a much more spiritually pertinent topic – the stupidity of men in today’s advertisements.  Just to give you a little background, originally Tracy and I were going to continue on our noble journey through bad taste and shamelessly offensive entertainment by blogging to you (together) about a new idea for a holiday – National Slut Day (her idea, not mine) – live from our favorite dive bar / restaurant.  We had our laptops set up, munchies on the table, ideas flowing between bites… But, around the 4th round of Jack ‘n Cokes our focus began to waver… and around the 7th, I spilled our food (including assorted sauces and condiments) all over some poor Asian tourists who were just trying to discover hush puppies and root for the Miami Heat in peace (serves them right, that team is an abomination; Lebron should be tarred and feathered just for starting the “I’m taking my talents to,” cliche) but I digress…   
 
I’m a forward thinking, progressive type of individual.  I understand the struggle, ladies.  You want to be seen as equals – professionally, intellectually, spiritually.  It’s hard being labelled as sex objects, and seeing gorgeous bombshells on television and in magazines to whom you feel compared.  But can we just be real for a minute?  I’d rather be stereotyped as the object of everyone’s lust and affection, than as some idiotic oaf who is incapable of ordering a beer, remembering an anniversary, purchasing groceries, booking a hotel room, grilling a burger without setting the house aflame, or managing a fucking bank account on my own. 
 
No, you’re right.  I know, girls… I know.  Men are stupid.  We’re complete fools who would walk around drooling and mumbling to ourselves if it weren’t for you holding the whole of everything together.  Praise be to you all.  Sarcasm aside, I love women, you mean the world to me – genuinely.  You really do put up with a hell of a lot (but we’ll save that for another time, so don’t get all worked up on me).  All I’m asking is, how am I – as a man – supposed to be convinced to purchase a product or service from a company who has the audacity to call me a moron on national television? 
 
I’ll start with the biggest culprit and main offender, breweries.  Before our night deteriorated into a haze of uncontrollable laughter, the last commercial I remember clearly from Thursday’s Bulls-Heat game involved a young man calling his amazingly beautiful girlfriend (that’s another thing, they pair these goofballs up with smoking hot model types, like this jackass could ever gain so much as an acknowledgement from a girl like that)  to tell her that he won’t be able to join her for dinner because he has the bar exam.  We’ve all seen this commercial, yes?  Cut to the shot of a bartender holding a bottle going “Alright, are you ready for your bar exam?  Here we go… the first bar means what?!”  Sigh… the first bar under the beer label reads, in white font set upon a blue background,  “Cold.”  You with me?  This is now a literacy test.  Thankfully, our lovable simpleton gets the answer right.  Now onto the next question, barkeep!  “The second bar means…”  to which Shit For Brains replies, “The Coors Light is SUPER cold?!”  …Congratulations, you just ensured I will never buy Coors Light – ever.  It’s bad enough these advertisers think we’re so hapless that we can’t tell if a beer is cold simply by picking it up, they’re actually making it the selling point of the product.  I mean shit, you ever seen a commercial for a tampon that tells you when it’s time to put in a new one?  “Hey Teresa, what’s that dinging sound?”  Teresa answers, “Oh honey, that means I’ll be right back…”
 
Budweiser had one a while back where a man comes home from a long day of work to find rose pedals strewn about his apartment, candles lit, and bud light in his fridge with a sweet note from his girlfriend telling him to come find her in the bedroom (where she’s waiting in his favorite lingerie).  Instead this meat head says “ooo beer!” and takes his Bud over to the couch where he just sits and drinks by himself.  Then it ends with him looking at one of the candles and saying “that’s a fire hazard” and putting it out with the bottom of his bottle.  Seriously, bro?  Yeah, little known fact – men like beer more than we like sex.  Right, and we secretly love soap operas and prostate exams too.  What if they did a reverse of that and a pretty girl came home to find her place all romantic-like, and on the coffee table was a box with the most to-die-for pair of shoes, a sweet note saying “I’m in the bed, come find me” and instead of going in, she just stood in front of the mirror checking out the shoes on her feet?  Well that would be pretty realistic, so probably a bad hypothetical…
 
I could make this whole post about beer commercials, but that wouldn’t give you the full picture of how stupid advertisement agencies think men are.  This one’s taking it back a few years, but before Carl’s Jr. started putting scantily clad Paris Hilton on top of a Bentley eating a burger (which I’m sure she threw up afterward) – they had that slogan “…without us, some guys would starve.”  I’ll give you two quick examples, because they’re just so amazingly baffling.  The first one shows a grown man wandering up and down the isles of a grocery store staring blankly at all the products he clearly wouldn’t be able to turn into food sustenance.  It ends with him in the meat section, looking down at a package of ground beef and poking at it with his finger.  The voiceover goes “without us, some guys would starve.”  Look, cooking isn’t easy – I went to college for long enough to burn a few meals myself.  But we’re talking about burgers here, folks.  70% lean ground beef (you want a little fat to burn up in the fire and leave the meat still juicy), mix in some salt, pepper, grated onions, a little turmeric (or whatever secret ingredient you prefer), shape em into patties and toss em on the grill.  It’s the easiest god damn thing in the world to cook – along side eggs, pasta, hot dogs, and sandwiches.  Gentlemen, if you can make these 5 dishes, you will never starve – and they are nearly impossible to fuck up. 
 
They had a similar commercial from that same time frame, the whole thing consists of a guy dropping an unpeeled, unpitted avocado into a blender – and turning it on.  Obviously this is a commercial for a guacamole burger, fellas – and the implication is that we’re too stupid to somehow access the innards of an avocado, mash them up, and mix in some peppers, onions, cilantro and salt (also on the list of easiest fucking dishes in the world to make).  It’s too bad Carl’s doesn’t sell soup, because I would have loved to see a guy put an unopened can of Campbell’s minestrone in the microwave and watch it explode, “without us, some guys would need fire and casualty insurance.”
 
Maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe most of the men in the world really are that soft headed.  Are there guys who get an awesome haircut and decide it’s a good idea to bet their life savings on 33 black?  Do some husbands need high definition photos of produce from their Nikon 3500, printed on super quality magazine paper in order to know what to buy from Ralph’s?  Can we not decide how much to put aside each month in our alternate savings account so we can save up to restore Dad’s old motorcycle without someone holding our hand?  I mean, you can’t officially be considered a man until you’ve forgotten your wife’s birthday – and you will need a phone that can simultaneously talk and work the internet so you can lie while covering up the tracks of your douchebaggery to avoid sleeping in the dog house for a week.  “Oh you thought I was taking you to a fancy restaurant, Sweetheart?  Baby, when I said steak dinner I meant the new steak sandwich over at Sonic!  Glad you wore that sexy little dress though, we’ll skip the drive-thru and order inside this time so everyone can see how good you look.  Let them know it’s our anniversary.  Go on, super size it, nothing is too good for you, Sugar.  I’ll even buy you an ice cream flurry for dessert.”  Christ, men are worthless.  I don’t know how they even get us to wear pants outside the house.  We would lose our car keys in our own pocket if it wasn’t for that jangling sound reminding us they’re there. 
 
In parting – yes, girls, it is sexist to only highlight your looks in advertisements.  But as often as you see women marketed as pure sex, they’re never shown to be complete idiots.  Men on the other hand are trashed on by the very corporations seeking our business… and somehow, they get our business!  Here’s a new idea for men’s shoes… they’re just normal shoes… BUT, they have pictures on the toes showing you how to tie your laces, just in case you forget.  Loop, swoop, and pull.
 
 
I hope you men out there were able to find a woman to read this to you.  Are you ready for your bar exam?
 
———-this bar means the post is over———-
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