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The Happy Halladay/Holliday Edition*

November 20, 2009 Leave a comment

Having recently re-subscribed to the “Less is best” school of life grad program, here is my burn out—I mean — burnt offering for the coming holidays. These are the things which can still make me laugh out loud, long and so hard, I risk a ruptured gut. Pretty sure you’ll agree.

My life is finally one with the universe. Well, the universe as I perceive it anyhow. Spike Lee, peanut head film auteur & Knicks fan, spoke out recently—no breaking news there, he does it a lot. That he called the works of Tyler Perry buffoonery, suggesting it was setting the cause of African-Americans back faster than Oprah can load a dish at an all you can eat buffet, is the shocker. Not sure I can live in a world where Spike Lee and I agree, so I’ll add the following—Tyler Perry is setting the entire human race back. Now that’s a race problem!

Perry’s partner in a recent movie release, Winfrey, has announced she’ll be ending her TV show in 2011. This one made me laugh so hard I might have to sue her for the sutures my sides required. 2011?!… Hold on, maybe she knows something! [see below] Regardless, she’ll no doubt pull a Leno and turn up on a night time version. Let’s see, I bet it will be called O! What a Night. I like O! What a Load.

The 2009 Major League baseball season ended the way it always should, so no gloat-fest here. Two things do need addressing. One is the phrase “bought players.” Teams sign players to contracts—- often for huge money. Yes, they all have the option to do so. While the jaded fan may choose to esteem that process as “buying,” they are morons. Abe Lincoln freed the slaves with that old Emancipation Proclamation. Nobody ain’t buyin’ nobody no mo’. To claim the Yankees bought C.C. Sabathia is racist. BTW did I mention THE YANKEES WIN! THE_UHHHHHHHHH YANKEES WIN!!

As for Bud Selig, 80 year old used car salesman/baseball commissioner (@ $20 million per annum). He just noticed the time lag between playoff games is a bit extreme. Wow! 20 mil doesn’t buy the quality brains does it. Of course, LA of A Angels manager of the year Mike Scioscia complained about it. Mainly due to the Angels losing. If Yankees mgr. Joe Girardi had bitched, a fresh round of anti-NYY sentiment would have filled the airwaves in red hot parallel pinstripes to the yowls of “Yankees bought another World Series” bullshit. Those fellas need some new slogans. I have one for them — STFU.

Read some history you a-holes. Sports has always been this way. You can’t sit around smugly saying life ain’t fair – deal with it to people having a rough time of it now- and then cry when your team gets whupped. Mainly because they are cheapskates. Why doesn’t Selig donate 18 or 19 million of his take, to the team with the worst record each year, so they can S I G N a big time free agent. AS if that alone assures anyone of positive results. MLB needs a major league overhaul, with a tier & rewards system for team performance. They won’t do it, because suits like Pud & his cronies like it the way it is-stoopit. Don’t blame the Yankees, blame the owners of all the other teams. But you won’t.

Nobody cries but NYY fans when tyro low payroll teams like the Florida Marlins & Arizona Diamondbacks beat the Yankees on a fluke & their owners bank the cake for trophy wives and ocean front property in Palm Springs. Oh! then it’s David v. Goliath and if it’s like a story in the Bible, it’s good enough for Joe Redass. When did douche baggery start ruling the world?

Which dovetails, in an un-dove like way to a socio-religious aspect of the current flick 2012. Seems they are ecumenical in their destruction of world religious symbols. Oh wait, they forgot to blow up any Islamic sites. Wouldn’t want to offend those clowns. Now I think of it, they do a pretty good job of blowing up the world themselves, literally and figuratively. If somebody told them the truth about the virgins (actually it’s a box of raisins – you could look it up), do you think they’d do that reprehensible shameful Bombing for Allahs trick? Still, all that doesn’t excuse the P.C. pandering of the film makers. Weak. Very.

Continuing on in the weak dept., there is a sports talk host on WFAN, New York City. The guy is a man of the people type, he speaks English natively, but he mangles it grammatically. He can barely speak a sentence without stammering and repeating words. Was this a pity hire? Hey! that’s fine on some small radio station in the sticks, not on the seminal sports powerhouse, in the world’s largest and most influential media market. The worst part is, a typical sports talk show attracts limited intellect callers. This guy’s audience takes it to a new low, the mouth breather boxing fans are the most virulent. He’s on now like 8 nights a week. Can anyone say—video of suits with donkeys?

It’s obvious, I’m thankful for all the laughter this has all brought me. I’m looking forward to all the swell things 2010 will bring. After all, we’re at the 2 year warning—the Mayan Calendar ends in 2012. Anybody else notice it’s “the Calendar?” My @#%&*! calendar ends every year. My only hope is every year would end with-

THE YANKEES WIN! THE_UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

YANKEES WIN!!!!!!

…and to all a good night.

* its a baseball thing, if you don’t know

In the Year 2013. . .. or Larry King stole this style from me 40 years ago

July 1, 2009 2 comments

I just realized the reason the Mayan Calendar ended at 2012. Those freaks ritually sacrificed all the guys who could do the math! which is apparently where the phrase ” do the math ” has its origins. They literally ripped the heart out of their civilization. The dumbasses killed the smart guys just to appease their gods. BTW Apocalypto was a really good flick. I do know two men who were disappointed by it though. I overheard them outside the theatre after the show. One of them thought it was Apocalypso. Well, there was dancing. The Mayans were nutjobs, but we can thank them for adding jai lai to world sports.

Speaking of ancient religions & suicidal tendencies, old Jehu Cristos must have had a major death wish. He not only took on the the entire Roman Empire with his big mouth, he confronted the alte cockers of Jeruselam. Not content to piss them off, he insulted and criticized the hierarchy of Judaism on a daily basis. Having been evicted from the Home Land by pharoahs, they were in no mood to take it on the chin from some snotty kid. Especially one who never got Bar Mitzvahed. Hey! no applause. This stuff just comes to me in between listening to sportstalk hosts refer to Shakespeare’s “novels” and the Egyptian pyramids where “the Mayans did their calendar.” Stick to Lou Piniella and Milton Bradley’s hissyfit & the scores Jason.

I know it’s way too much to hope that last night’s Baltimore Oriole comeback win—they were losing 10-1, over the Rat Sox will mean a deep downward spiral for those creeps. But Manny is due back in LA LA Land Friday. It will be fireworks somewhere this weekend. Good one huh.

Phillies should trade for Carl Pavano. He doesn’t beat his wife. But a move back to the National League and he just might beat enough teams to help the Phils. Unlike the rest of this blog, I’m virtually 100% serious.

I can’t help it—I love ENTOURAGE. But I’d shitcan Ari Gold in a NY minute, too counter-intuitive & petty for me. And who knew Adrian Grenier could sing—well, I have to wait for the DVD release. Thanks NetFlix—don’t fuck me up w/SMALLVILLE though. Please.

Off the Wailing Wall

January 31, 2009 Leave a comment

Being a nice guy & mincing words about this subject has gotten the human race and me nowhere slow. Those assholes in the Middle East have done only one thing in two thousand plus years since they all colluded to whack Yeshua Christos. What else did they do? by their extended family feud, based on who owns the sandbox and my God can kick your God’s ass, they prove on a daily basis, there is no God. Unless God is a sexually repressed, retarded 15 year old geek with an hormonal imbalance and e.d.*

Make no mistake, I am a self-loathing human. Though I outgrew my waiting for the Mothership to take me home phase in 1999. Still like that song though. And I have lots of fleecewear and recurring sinus probs from standing outside in the cold, waving a flashlight in the general direction of the Pleiades.

We, meaning us, should tell the Israelis to move to Mexico. Not only would they give that dump a morality make over, the subsequent inter-marriages—oh come on, when Pancho meets Yentl, would result in some great looking people; mucho muy mitzvahs. AND matzoh are really just stale tortilla. Art Modell could help them move. (This is also my Super Bowl Tribute-speaking of vapid, empty displays of humanity.)

As for Sheikh Yerbuti Martin Lawrence of Arabia, those learning disabled masses need to lose their myopic world view. The USA didn’t invent Caucasian chicks and Mercedes. Americans just believe in making money, anywhere they can. Blame your leaders for liking blonde cooze and hypocritically breaking Mohammed’s ‘ laws ‘ (Mohammed-which translates as Mama’s Boy—no truth to the rumor that fruitfly Tyler Perry is doing a biopic—there’s not enough drag op for him-her-it) every chance they get.

The lack of imagination in the Middle East is astounding. Look, I know it’s serious and no fun. Though somebody enjoys it or they wouldn’t keep doing it. AND just like the New York Yankees, if the USA Franchise goes under, all you haters will be happy for a day or two. Then you’ll realize all you’ve done for two millenia is blow shit up. At least America makes stuff too. Coca Cola doesn’t grow on trees, you need to invent it first.

Here’s an idea. If you Semitic types are more than just semi-sapiens, why not get sporty with it. Every year at Christmas—dig the irony-choose a champion from a dune and a deli. Then have a UFC in the Holy Land. Call it—ummm—The Armageddon Bowl. Think of the ticket sales. The ancillary souvenir and concession shekels! Yowzah ya’ll, big bucks. Getcha falafel right heah! Make some of them foam burnooses and yarmulke. Go shirtless— it won’t be the same as Green Bay in December, but hey-it’s the idiotic thought that counts.

Or how about I call the Mothership—and instead of us wimpy peaceniks leaving, why don’t you go out and fight the universe. Just do us a favor and rip all the labels out of your clothes and leave your ID behind. Tell them you’re God’s Chosen Warriors and see what happens. What? you need some weapons. Sure sure we can get it for you wholesale. Ever hear of the Enfield rifle? no? excellent. . ..

I can dream can’t I. Though if it really could come true, my first choice would be a weekend with Bridget Regan in say, Arruba. I am a misanthrope and visionary, but I have needs. Oddly, the only thing I don’t have wrong with me is e.d. Sigh, we are all in this same boat—the same leaky ship of state. You can either have Captain Ahab at the helm or Jimmy Buffet. And for God’s sake, change the name. Who thought Titanic Too was a good idea? His ass is so FIRED! Wow, is that Kate Winslet naked? again!

OMG! I almost forgot—what’s your Super Bowl prediction? Wanna bet on the coin toss?

* listen to WFAN AM NYC for 5 minutes, you’ll get it

There’s November like November – part ll

October 30, 2008 Leave a comment

” We love our god and our guns. . ..” this a direct quote from a political ad, approved by John McCain, running on a local radio station here in the New River Valley of Virginia. A political statement meant to exhort Virginians to vote against Barack Obama, because he apparently doesn’t love their god or their guns. Love means cleaning, oiling & fondling your grandaddy’s 30 aught 6.

They love guns here all right. They love to sell them too. That’s how a mental patient, who slipped through a loophole in the VA TECH student psych screening process, bought two guns here in Virginia. Then took them to school for Show & Kill. Who is their god? Glock? or the twin deities, Smith & Wesson?

Not too far from here, about 10 miles as the Jim Crow flies, there still stands the site of slave cabins. No doubt my own house is built above the unmarked graves of somebody who caught a free cruise to the land of the free. This area rarely has a sunny start to a day.* Often, it’s more a mist, I call it gray-light. Maybe it’s the angry gun god, all smoke and bitter ash for dirty deeds. Or possibly the arsenal also, just down the road apiece. . ..

I have said previously, the President of the United States is a spokes model. He/she(?) walks point for the daily patrol-an important job, yes. But the chief exec leads the team out front. There are those no longer so deep in the shadows, who run things. Those guys have no gods. This, because they think they are them. What they do best is send out people to do things for them, destabilize a Third World country or prop up a druglord in a slag heap ending with -stan. Then they trot the Pres out to meet the press for an atta boy and a tutorial in spin doctoring.

Doing that needs lots of guns and money. No doubt Mr. Obama would prefer to use what’s left of the American economy to keep us strong at home. Roofs over our heads and a chicken in every pot and/or microwave. But that kind of thing upsets the ‘ foreign policy ‘ of the power brokers who work behind the curtains of the Oval Office.

Hollywood has remade a classic flick, The Day the Earth Stood Still. The premise of which is, extraterrestrial is sent to Earth to terminate it. Mainly due to our warlike ways. Naturally this is greeted with loads of firepower, which makes the alien think it’s actually on Mars, named after the god of war. Right after the shameful name of the NFL franchise in our nation’s capitol is changed, I’m petitioning the new administration to switch from Earth to Mars. Or at least the Dirty 3rth. Hey, yo I’m street, dogg!

When a political party’s endgame endorsement has god & guns as the slam dunk argument for its candidate, you know it’s in trouble. If McCain really heard that ad and approved it, it’s troublesome. If a lackey rubber stamped it for him, it’s even more so. I knew we were backwards here, but this is straight out of the Johnny Reb Handbook. The South will rise again? well not before my dinner does.

So, while I continue to live in Bubbadoon,* where it’s always 1808 with football & cell phones—their god approves of some new fangled things! I get out my pork rinds & moonshine, ready to watch the election returns. Who will win—Hatfield or McCoy? er, um I mean Obama or McCain. Actually, I thought Obama was an Irish name- what? you never heard of the Black Irish!

* not to mention 24ºF on October 31—sunny south my @#%&*! ass

Ars Gratia Ici

October 20, 2008 Leave a comment

I’ve finally figured it out. Lucky you, now you won’t have to do it, you get it here, virtually free of charge.

The godz, the hired powers or the big gas cloud, rules existence in its own cruel to be kind way. Mostly it makes stuff to break stuff then makes more stuff to break it, ad infinitum. Which seems to place the age of this particular universe in the Terrible Two’s; not even the dumbest Christian thinks life is that young! All of that is usually depressing and/or befuddling for any survivors, until it’s their inevitable, tough shit turn in the barrel.

Oh sure, there are some neat misdirection tricks, geeks get hot chicks & underdogs win World Series. Favorite sons get erected U.S. President ( not a typo.) That kind of thing. We all tune in for the show, because it’s so random, there really is a chance we might be a winner. Odds roughly being googolplex to one. Sadly, there be dragons. The ever present dark side they never teach you in school. Unless of course you’re a cognitive genius and have an epiphany waiting in the cafeteria lunch line ( c’est moi naturelement.) Yes, we are the Mystery Meat. Which was the original title of that We Are the World song. It was changed for our protection.

OK, the answer is coming, eventually. Be patient, remember, it’s free. Lately I have noticed more and more, how what passes for creative, is just crap. At least 25% of the males starring in mainstream media look like the bastard sons of the Pillsbury Doughboy. AND fully 60% of dudes in rock bands, the spawn of the Michelin Man. Back when I was a boy (creak)those whey-faced lardos, were nerds and football players. Oh and please, somebody slap a cease and desist order on those endless SF/Fantasy book series. My time travel hitlist will now have to include Tolkien for baby daddy-ing that phenomenon. I’m all for EOE but it’s gone too far. So far in fact, its let the fat cat out of the bag.

Before I say any thing else, let’s all agree on something. There are always exceptions. For every Seth Rogen there always will be a Zac Efron ( is it me or did somebody at Disney edit out a K, P & H?). For every Sarah Palin there will be a Michael Palin. For every Oprah there will a photo of Oprah( they should change the spelling of ego to egO and yeah, put a pic of her as the definition.) Nothing will change that. Well, nothing short of a Cosmic singularity occluding us, harshing our dubious high.

The first sign of the Apocalypse as far as I’m concerned, is the exponential proliferation not of nukes in OPEC nations and/or dictators rocking wardrobes from Army Surplus stores, but that of one named recording acts. If you’ve stumbled across this blahg before, I mention those pretentious aholes every chance I get. If people known by three names are serial killers and people with the standard two are us, what does that make the uni-noms? Please reread this paragraph slowly and focus. Voila, you too can be a visionary. If only I had some product tie ins to sell you.

So what if Wall Street is headed for Wall-E, wearing their throwback jerseys from the October 1929 season. No fear. The stock market was established back when it actually was a stock market, cows & pigs—bulls & bears are metaphors. It’s all based on speculations and futures. We all have just one future. Fuck Dow Jones and the SUV he rode in on. The only sure thing in life is debt and Texas. Then you eat out of a dumpster until you actually do die, do die.**

That said ( whatever that was–I am trying to be entertaining and enigmatic ), I have had a revelation. The reason things start to seem so awful in the arts as we age is for one reason only. It’s so, that with our last thought, we don’t gasp a final hacking deathbed breath of regret, in which we utter the immortal words:

” Now I’ll never get to see HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 86 arrrrrrggggghhhhhhhhh. . ..”

Anybody know what we’re having for lunch? hey dude, no cutting in line!
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* the word unpverse ©2008 JukeofUrl Productions

** cryptic Johnny Cash song reference – 20 points

God Man Out

February 20, 2008 Leave a comment

God, John Lennon once wrote, is a concept. Then some fat mental patient shot him to death. Some people have a personal God. My personal God would’ve whacked Yoko. Before you jump on me, think about it: John would’ve really missed her. Lesson learned. Until a few years later and he got a load of Joan Chen or Ming Wa.

Richard Dawkins, not to be confused with Richard Dawson, a scientist at Oxford University, has a book. Titled: The God Delusion, in which he essentially states–ain’t no God. He also pretty much calls anyone who believes, a dumb ass. (Cough-Correct!) Then he repeats himself over & over ad nauseum. Kinda like God. . ..

My proof God existed, was getting an eyeful of an attractive woman. I’m not naming names. Anymore, any way. A few weeks ago I told a bunch of morons I thought Eva Green was hot. They told me she looked like a man. The nicest thing anyone said was—she looks very severe. Eva, if you read this, I still think you’re fine. Call me?

However, my proof there isn’t a God is, none of those hot chicks ever reciprocated my ardor. I tried compromising, but after a few lukewarm level babes dissed me, I turned devout atheist. Get serious, if you’re only gonna love me for my income, you’re a Satan worshipper. AND I don’t go for that one bit. Fork tongue, fork tail? Fork you!

Also mean nuns. Those [deleted] were married to God! Yikes. NO wonder God was vengeful with those harpies around the house. Though that original black & white look was tres chic. If you were Diane Arbus. This also explains the celibacy of priests and some of their unfortunate urges. Not all nuns were mean naturally. But sexual repression turned inward should never be allowed near children or to possess a ruler.

Country performers, athletes & certain races, like to thank God at awards shows. I admit, if I’d have had a hit record ( or 6 which is what I asked God to let me have–btw God thanks for the Brad Paisley box set, not what I had in mind but hey!) I’d have thanked God right after my parents & dogs. I don’t believe but I would’ve, based on good old fashioned Catholic guilt. Hee haw.

Because my reading retention skills have eroded since puberty, I can’t recall if I read this in the Dawkins book, but apparently that 72 virgins crap the Muslims sell suggestible social retardates, was mistranslated. It’s supposed to be 72 ‘raisins.’ Man, oh Manischewitz, I’d like to be there for that—what a treat! Admittedly, if you lived in the desert a thousand years ago & came across a bunch of grapes, you’d be in Heaven. But that sun would dry them out fast, so the leap to raisins is easy. Guaranteed there wouldn’t be a bit of old Allah left, after one of those psychos got handed a box of California raisins for blowing himself up & murdering some more of God’s Chosen People. Good times all around.

The best display of belief in God, is however, all those so called Christians who persecuted, tortured & killed in the name of God. And they have bad hair. The Spanish Inquisition is my favorite. That epistle was in one of the lost Gospels where Jesus said ‘Rack ’em up boys!’ Torquemada getting Lamb of God mixed up with rack of lamb. Not only is that type sociopathic, they are no fun at parties. Nor are they fun, as radio station owners, who along with tele-evangeli$ts, fleece millions for millions, for God. Makes you hope there at least is a hell. You know, that place where most of my former ‘flames’ will reside for all eternity, as per their fervent wish, granted by their master, the Prince of Darkness, without me! I’ll be in hebben with my raisins, though I’d prefer ambrosia.

Really, I think God was a 5th grader who got a C- on his science project & dumped it in the basement & forgot about it. Then went on to produce reality shows. I know truly wonderful things exist. I’d mention some, but it would just be my list. We all have a list of stuff that makes life bearable. But the repetitive cruelty & injustice, the stupidity of sports talk radio & the Red Sox winning two World Series in the last 4 years, proves it to me. God either doesn’t exist or is an idiot savant who now roots for Boston. Either is too sad to contemplate. In fact, God can just ki *

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* for those who wondered, this is not a glitch, it’s supposed to be the hand of G*d reaching down and stopping me before I’d type something like God can just kiss my as