Great, now look at the camera – click click – perfect, now look down – click click – great, great – click – I love it – click click click – Beautiful! Let’s try something totally outrageous, something that has never been tried before. Let’s try one where you are taking a drag off a cigarette. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy but you’ve got to trust me on this one, I think it will make you look like the biggest bad ass that has ever lived. What’s that, you don’t smoke? Well it’s time to learn if you ever expect to be awesome. You want to look cool and mysterious, right? OK, here we go – click – YEAH, I LOVE IT – click click – Ooooh, the choking is great, keep doing that – click click
We get it, you’re a bad boy. You wear distressed Motley Crüe T-shirts that you paid $300 for in Beverly Hills and, as much as your mother begs, you simply refuse to quit smoking. Congratulations celebrity tough guys, you are exactly as cool as a teenage boy.
To be honest, I blame the photographers for perpetrating this cliché over and over like a bunch of high school photo students shooting pictures of a single flower poking through the snow. Deep, very deep.
I’ve got to hand it to Weezer for finding a perfect way to illustrate how thoroughly bland and desperate their music has become, a photo of “Hurley” from everyone’s favorite island of mystical bullshit, Lost. I guess in many ways listening to a new Weezer album is just like watching Lost… you sit there confused for an hour wondering what kind of nerds wrote this shit and when it’s all over you wonder why you keep coming back to the teat for more, like the big dumb asshole you are.
When asked about their decision to use a photo of actor Jorge Garcia on the cover of their latest album, Weezer had this to say, “Blah blah blah, ironic, Star Wars, shyness, windbreakers.”
What the fuck happened? Weezer used to rule. Sure, it was way back when Clinton was still jizzing all over the White House, but still those first couple albums are classics.
In case you were wondering, the songs on “Hurley” suck gorilla taint.
I rarely (maybe never) personally call out people who leave moronic comments on this website, mostly because a majority of the comments I receive are pretty decent. When I say “decent” I don’t only mean people who agree with me, there have been plenty of intelligent comments that disagree with my opinions (even though I am always right). But the thing most of my readers do not realize is that I am flooded with comments on old posts on a daily basis. There are some crazy back and forth arguments that go unnoticed by most readers.
At this point I should admit that I LOVE hate mail, I honestly do. The hate mail I receive is some of the most entertaining reading material I get to experience and it usually just reinforces my awesome opinions on any given subject.
I realize it’s kind of lazy for me to write about this subject but I wanted to share a comment I received this weekend concerning those prancing, lip-syncing turds, Celtic Thunder. Actually I get a lot of funny hate mail on that one but this one really made me happy. It’s not the craziest comment I have seen but it still made my day. I don’t even need to explain why it’s ridiculous, just site back and enjoy…
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS PERSON CELTIC THUNDER ARE THE BEST SINGERS IN THE WORLD (ESPECIALLY DAMIAN AND RYAN) AND WHO EVER WROTE THIS ARTICLE I’M GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN.!
YOU LITTLE IMMATURE FREAK SHOW GET A FUCKIN LIFE YOUR JUST JEALOUS BECAUSE THEY HAVE MORE TALENT IN ONE HAIR STRAND ON THERE HEAD THEN YOU DO ON YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE BODY. JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SHIT HEAD, FUCK OFF, THEN GO AND EAT SHIT OUT OF A DITCH YOU SHITTY ASSHOLE!!!!!!……SUCK THAT…..WHAT!
You know what would be like so cool and like totally show like how poetic and deep my photography is? Totally imagine this, it’s like a black and white image but like there are roses that are like totally still red? Yeah yeah yeah, I know, right? It’s like the world is ugly and like dying but like the beauty of the rose lives on? It’s like the innocence of children but like also dangerous because of the thorns? Also like vampires and Wicca and like blood but like beautiful and timeless and delicate but also totally strong? You know? It’s like I’m the single red rose and my parents are the desolate world trying to like totally make me wilt but I’m too bold and bright to be like… ignored?
Look at me I’m skiing! Oh wait, I guess I’m just walking… like a douchebag.
Sure, walking is pretty extreme on its own, but add some fucking ski poles and suddenly you’re the (insert name of famous skier here because I don’t know any) of the neighborhood walking club. With enough practice, you might even make the Olympic walking-around-the-suburbs team!
One time, I was Nordic pole walking and I saw this deep crevasse up ahead. I mean this thing was at least 4 inches deep and a foot across! I was thinking maybe I should pole my way across the street, you know for my own safety, but something in me said, “Go for it, fucking go for it dude.” So I approached the gaping crevasse without fear because I had my poles! I approached the edge of the great hole, sweat pouring into my eyes, and planted my poles. Suddenly it was as if I was weightless and I found myself sailing over the abyss. I’ve never felt so free!
Unfortunately, I misjudged my jump and fell on my face. I was so mad because I ripped my best walking pants. Stupid poles.
Remember when we were kids and we would stroll down to the local penny candy shop to buy as many World Sauna Championship cards as our messy handful of nickels and dimes would allow? We would run home, with old Mrs. Walker’s crazy dog nipping at our heels the entire way, to see which of our favorite sauna athletes we got.
After gathering together in one of our various secret backyard clubhouses, the ritual would begin. First, the wrappers were carefully opened and that horrible pink gum stick was devoured as if it was $1,000 caviar. Next, we began to sort though the cards and the faces of our heroes would reveal themselves. It was glorious! Soon our secret fort would fill with the sound of excited young voices saying, “I got a Bjarne Hermansson!” or “No way, a rookie Annikki Peltonen card!” and “Timo, I got a Timo Kaukonen!” Of course some very serious wheeling and dealing took place for the next hour or so. Timmy would trade a sack of marbles for Skippy’s Ilkka Pöyhiä and Bobby would be forced to give up his pet toad AND a slingshot for his chance to own an extremely rare Katri Kämäräinen.
That night, next to me in the blackness lay my oiled blue steel beauty. The greatest Christmas gift I had ever received, or would ever receive. Gradually, I drifted off to sleep, pranging ducks on the wing and getting off spectacular hip shots.
Ladies, have you ever wanted to transform your jiggling fat rolls into solid hunks of slightly less gelatinous fat? Have you ever wanted to go from a size 53-inch waist down to an incredible 52-inch waist? Do you want to go from looking like fat 1992 Rosanne Barr to the incredibly sexy 2010 Rosie O’Donnell? And most importantly, do you want to reshape your neglected body without making a single lifestyle change or watching what you shovel into your mouth cave?
Then let’s start celebrating with a sack of cake because the Kymaro Body Shaper is about to rock your fat ass!
Why waste all that time at the gym when you can simply cram yourself into a giant sock? Eat what you want and let the magic Kymaro do all the work. Hey, it’s not even your fault that you’re overweight, it’s that damn fat gene that they are always talking about on the news! God did this to you, not Pizza Hut and Mountain Dew!
Some people are just genetically fat and no amount of McNuggets or ice cream can stop them from gaining weight. For example, look at this poor woman below. You can clearly see why she needs an elaborate device to control all that disgusting fat all over her body. When I think about the unlucky guy who has to have sex with this woman… I want to be sick.
Sure, there’s going to be an awkward moment when the young stud in the Affliction shirt you lure back to your apartment sees you naked for the first time. He thought he was going home with Brooke Burke but once you squeeze out of your little space suit there, he’s staring down Delta Burke. Yes, he will start making excuses and will bolt for the door but luckily you are now big enough to fill it.
I think the infomercial host sums it up best when she says, “Keep your doughnuts.” Yes America, keep your doughnuts. Keep them in your cold dead mouth!
You know how at the age of 10 we would all fill in Mad Libs with witty and intelligent responses like “farty” and “boobs” and “bloody tampon?” Well, we were all infinitely funnier than Lisa Lampanelli and her lazy insult “comedy.”
In fact, constructing a Lisa Lampanelli “joke” is not unlike filling out a Mad Lib. You simply need to follow this boring formula…
“You sir, in the front row, what are you a fuckin’ [racist ethnic term]? Is that [derogatory term for a woman] your date? You’re a lucky lady, I want to bang your [racist ethnic term] boyfriend because after we [overly shocking sexual activity] he will [commit a stereotypical ethnic crime]. Oh sorry, you don’t like it, I hope you get [fatal medical condition].”
Genius!
Fans of this hack will argue that I’m “overly sensitive” and “too politically correct” but the truth is I gravitate to offensive fringe comedians and it’s not easy to offend or shock me. Shocking is great as long it’s FUNNY! In fact the only thing shocking about Lisa Lampanelli is how utterly unfunny she is. She has got to be one of the least clever comedians in the history of comedy.
I would sit through 100 Carrot Top shows before I would endure even five minutes of this tedious bore. I would rather spend a night in Las Vegas with Guy Fieri declaring everything he sees is “money” than allow even one more farty joke from that bloody tampon to enter my boobs.
