Quickleberry Pie

I really hope that Harry Potter dies on page three of the last book, and the rest of the book is just devoted to whatever mundane things J.K. Rowling happens to see on her way to the publisher. It would pretty much be the greatest prank in the history of literature, and would introduce millions of children worldwide to the oh-so frequent anticlimax. The  only thing that might be better than this if it ends off not just on a cliffhanger, but in the middl

I think the most embarrassing part about having poor eyesight but never wearing glasses or contacts is that whenever I see people waving in my direction, I can never tell if they’re actually waving at me. This often leads to two things:

1. I completely ignore somebody who is trying to be friendly, thereby increasing indefinitely the number of people who think I’m an asshole.

2. I give a ridiculous half-wave and stammer to somebody I don’t know, thereby increasing indefinitely the number of people who think I’m retarded.

If you are on The View, you do not get to discuss politics.  Hearing Rosie O’Donnell squawk about things she knows absolutely nothing about is about as frustrating as an anorgasmic man on Scripps (semi-inside joke for my feministas).  The conversation basically went like this:

Blonde viewlady: I’m not saying killing civilians is right, I just think that the war on terror is connected with the war in Iraq.

Rosie:  The war is completely wrong! That is a FACT!

BV: Well, you haven’t established your case.

Rosie: I just said it was a FACT! I WIN! Our troops are dying, and the only reason they are there is because they need an education. That’s the only reason anybody joins the army.

BV: I actually know people personally who joined it because they believed in the mission.

Rosie: FACT! FACT! FACT!

At this point Rosie O’Donnell bit clean through the blonde view-lady’s jugular and dragged her backstage where she devoured her whole with a glass of lemon-lime Shasta and half of a cheesecake. The camera’s obviously couldn’t show this, but I know what’s going down when R O’D gets that gleam in her eye.

Not being 21, I’ve never had any alcohol. But if I were going to recommend a drink for somebody of legal age, it would have to be Peach Schnapps and iced tea. It goes well with a couple of Midol and a set of ovaries.

I’m Apparently Going to Rape You

A while back, I wrote a post entitled “I’m Not Going to Rape You”. It was a (I thought) hilarious little rant on the ridiculousness of some (mostly female) people’s reactions to seeing me on a somewhat isolated street late at night. I was assuring my hypothetical streetwalking buddy that I had no desire to initiate intercourse of any kind, consensual or no. It was my way of saying that my physical features don’t automatically qualify me as a sexual offender.

I was wrong.

I was neglecting my most heinous physical feature: my penis. Where there should have been a vagina, a bounteous life vessel literally gushing with creative energy and love for the universe, I had instead been cursed with a burden, which (though lovely for what it was) was the indelible mark of God’s first draft. As a nonwomyn, I had to come to terms with actively reinforcing a patriarchal society that encourages womyn to be second-class citizens, when in reality, it is the nonwomyns who are inferior.

It was a difficult realization to come to; I fought it at first. I told myself, “It must be possible to be a man (yes, I still used a term as sexist as that) and not be actively oppressive! I respect the rights of women to have an equal societal platform. Surely I would remember oppressing somebody?”

What a silly Negro I was. Since society has long been set up to benefit nonwomyns, every day I choose to spend not cursing at my penis in the mirror is a day where I reap the benefits of a society that both actively and tacitly condones rape. By the very virtue of my phallus, I am just as guilty as the man who actually penetrates the verdant womynly forest nonconsensually. Every time I watch a T.V. program or purchase a product not specifically allowed by feminists, I silently support rape.

I’m sorry.

Qui-

I know it’s been a while since I posted, but this is my blog and I DO WHAT I WANNA. Now that that’s out of the way, a few things I’ve been thinking about:

>Those of you that follow professional basketball probably know of this team, the Golden State Warriors. Now I’ve been thinking, and this is the only team that I can think of that’s not from a real place. I know California is the “Golden State”, but seriously, what the fuck? Are nicknames now fair game for sports franchises? Is the day approaching were I can watch the Big Apple Knicks take on the Sin City Venereal Diseases? And why stop at pre-established nicknames - under Golden State’s renegade example, we could have the Magical Fairyland Jazz, and nobody would know where the hell to go. I’m just saying. Enough is enough.

>Dear Michael Ian Black,

We get it. You’re clever and snarky. You don’t need to have that smug little grin of yours everytime VH1 tosses you a warm cup of coffee to come up with your witty little one liners. I can just see you alone at home, making snide little asides about your breakfast cereal to your cat and then looking around for a camera. Please don’t take this the wrong way - you’re not yet in Zach Braff’s (read: crotch-kicking) category. But enough, as always, is enough.

Yours,

X

> I vote yes on orange juice. I find it to be TANGY AND REFRESHING.

> I managed to score an early headline from the end of the 2007 baseball season: Alex Rodriguez finishes disappointing first in MVP balloting.

>Dear girl in front of me in line for brunch,

I am overjoyed that you took Spanish in high school. I fully believe that you got a 4 on the AP-kudos! But the entire line could do without your trying to stammer out your omelette order in broken Spanish just to appear culturally sensitive. When the very competent chef asks if you would like cheese, feel more than free to politely nod and even say yes. Or no, if you do not wish to have cheese on your omelette. There’s no need for you to take a minute and a half to get out “No quezo, no, is that queso? Pour fabor.” And God help you if you should try to engage in small talk in Spanish; your accent is comparable to a drunk dolphin with a mouthful of crunchy peanut butter. And the dolphin much prefers creamy, but the store was out, and she really wanted a peanut butter sandwich, so she got crunchy, and then realized that there is no substitute, and she should have just gotten a taco instead. THAT’S what your accent reminds me of. Nice Uggs though.

Warmly,

Scowling black male behind you.

P.S. When I said “nice Uggs”, I meant “not-nice Uggs.” I’m tricksy.

>Why is it that every stoner is immediately a chemist when it comes to smoking? I know a bunch of people who barely passed high school chemistry, but as soon as smoke is involved, they know fifteen different reactions that happen in the body and how to manipulate all of them to get the best high. And their newfound savantesse, (yes, you’ve just witnessed the birth of a word. Congrats!) isn’t limited to chemistry. All of a sudden, they’re chefs, carpenters (honestly, I’ve seen stoners who couldn’t even find a woodshop class build bongs out of acorns and twine) and philosophers. Perhaps rather than teaching against marijuana, teachers should teach through marijuana. Board of Ed, you can thank me later.

Yes, You Will Be Tested on This

I am nothing if not committed to the continuing education of my readers. In that vain, I have a new term: (Yes, I know I should have used “vein” there, but the word vain makes me think about myself, and honestly, what’s more awesome than that?)

Squirrel. A squirrel, in my new parlance, is a person with one redeeming features that somehow makes the others palatable. For actual squirrels. of course, this feature is the bushy tail that separates them from rats. For humanfolk. however, it could be any one of a number of things. Lazy, dirty, annoying hippy on your couch that happens to be an amazing guitarist? Squirrel. Annoying unattractive girl who wastes the class’s time with inane questions and meaningless personal anecdotes but is generous with her perfect notes? Squirrel. Creepy computer science major that spends all his time in his room downloading questionable porn and eating easy mac, but can quote entire episodes of Family Guy with appropriate voices? HUGE NERD. And squirrel. Let’s all embrace this term, because who doesn’t like stupid and kind of bitchy slang?

Maybe Some Nudity Is Involved!

Hopefully my deceptively sexful and coy title tricked you into getting sucked into another of my pointless, meandering rants. Without further ado, here is a list of people who have been bugging me recently:

People Who Comment On Youtube Videos:

Now, it’s not the institution of commenting that bugs me-far from it. I think it’s good that you get to see what the world really and truly thinks of the video of you and your sorority sister’s lip-synching the newest Jeezy track. It’s just the people who do it are fucking idiotic. It’s just that the people who do it are fucking idiotic. Yes, I’m aware that I typed that last sentence twice; I did it in case that just such a person happened to stumble upon this piece somewhere. I wouldn’t want their moth-like attention span preventing them from recognizing and absorbing the factH that they have all the writing acumen of a drunk, masturbating, slightly retarded proscobis monkey. And I’m not even sure that’s a real type of monkey. One would think that they would realize this while going to work every day with their pants around their ankles and third degree burns all over their respective chests from trying to iron a shirt while still wearing it, but no. Nobody pulls them aside and says  “listen, penisballslol22, you might want to consider castration.” I have actually read people planning to fight (addresses and all) over differing opinions about the quality of a Jack Johnson cover from somebody who they’d never met.

So now you know penisballslol22 (and numbers 1-21, if you’re listening) - I value what you think. However, you have yet to express anything approaching a cogent thought, and as such, I have no choice but to issue a petty and bitter rant.

People Who Support Immediate Troop Withdrawal but Can’t Explain Why

Inspired by this recent conversation:

R: I just think all the troops should come home right away.

X: I’m not entirely sure that’s feasible. There’s still a lot of work left to to be done, I’m sure, and modern war is never simple.

R: Still the government lies, and the troops should come hope right away.

X: I’m not a military strategist, so I can’t speak for the situation, but I imagine it’s a good deal more complex than people give it credit for. I think if it were as easy as that, the government would do it if for no other reason than for popular support.

R: But I just think they should come home.

The preceding conversation is as close to accurate as I can remember. It’s somewhat indicative of the mindset of a generation of college-aged people who consider themselves political and military analysts because they watch the Daily Show a couple times a week. Listen, I’m willing to admit that I’m not an expert military tactician. And maybe withdrawal is the right thing to do. But when your entire rationale is that “it’s just right” or “the government lied to us” and your supporting argument consists solely of an article from weareadmittedlybiased.com, you sort of lose my respect.

People Who Hate Emo Kids Just to Hate Emo Kids:

You know how it was funny and hip to point out the irony of a fad that stresses “individuality”? Well, now, that observation is trite and the idea is old. Look, I’m no fan of emo kids. And trust me, there’s a wealth of comedy material in everything they do. But making fun of the fact that they wear tight pants is simply no longer acceptable as amusing. When your only recourse is to call somebody a “fag” and then cackle uproariously, you might want to consider the fact that making fun of people is just not for you. And honestly, they do a much, much better job of making a fool of themselves than you and your frat bros could ever hope. So just chill out, have a Natty Light and pop in that Dane Cook dvd. Speaking of which,

Dane Cook, People Who Like Dane Cook, and People Who Don’t Like Dane Cook

And yes, I include myself. When Dane Cook is involved, everybody is annoying.

Animal Lovers:

Now, I like animals, and I’ve had pets all my life. I’m not talking about people who merely enjoy the company of animals. I’m talking about people who will never shut the fuck up about them. What’s that? A YouTube video of a panda sneezing? You mean animals have normal bodily functions? How exciting.

I don’t want to see a picture of your cat. I don’t care if you put a little shirt on him and made him ride around on a tricycle, I AM NOT AMUSED. It is simply not funny when you contort otherwise lovable pets into having human emotions and doing human things because you and the rest of the Ya-Ya sisterhood thinks it simply precious. Mrs. Kittypants isn’t thinking “weeeee, I’m in the circus!” She’s thinking “Get me off of this fucking tricycle so I can take my second late midmorning nap.

And enough with the animal movies. Penguins wouldn’t pay $10 to watch me go to great lengths to have frigid sex, and I don’t see why I should pay to watch them.  Especially the animated ones. If I have to hear one more bad animal related pun, I am going to hurt somebody. Fur sure.

Unconnected Ramblings

>As most of you should know, there was yet another situation where somebody in New York got shot many, many times by cops. And it made me think. I’m sure that police go through a lot of training. Maybe sometime in the first couple days, they could go over the difference between a wallet, an ipod, a cellphone, and a gun. Perhaps just a lil’ slideshow on the first day? It seem like it would save them a lot of trouble.

Oh, and while they’re at it, they might want to go through a bit more target practice. Seriously, three cops needed 50 shots for one unarmed man? He couldn’t have been moving very much after the first twenty or so. At that point, they probably could have walked up and bopped him on the head with a billy club.

>I saw a commercial the other day, for some law firm, that was entirely in English, except for the end, when across the screen was written “Hablamos Espanol”. Now, if somebody doesn’t know enough English to know the phrase “We Speak Spanish”, wouldn’t they be kind of lost throughout the rest of the ad?  Is there really some Spanish-speaker out there so lonely that they don’t even care what service they’re being rendered, as long as their customer service rep speaks their language?

>It’s always weird to me when teachers make snide or kind of bitchy comments. When I was a senior in high school, due to senior projects and such, by the middle of the spring there were only two people in my French class. Note the following exchange:

Teacher: Since there are only going to be two of you in the class, and you’re already in college, we’ll probably just watch a lot of movies and do fun things.

Jeet (the other student): Really?

Teacher: Haha. Of course not.

This exchange was hilarious to me until I realized that I would have to do work, at the end of my senior year, in a class where there were only two people. It also meant that I had to pay close attention for every minute of every class. Damn. This same teacher also ruined one of my happier moments:

Little Kid: X! X! Can I have your autograph?

Me (giving autograph and trying to hide huge smile): Sure!

I then turn to walk away, at which point this teacher asks what the exchange was about:

Teacher: What was that about?

Me: It’s funny, but he wanted my autograph…

Teacher: HHAHAHAHAH. No seriously. What was it about?

Me: I am being serious.

Teacher: What, did you borrow a pen from him or something?

Me: No…

Teacher (walking away): AHAAHAHAH. Why would anybody want your autograph?

While this was quite a valid question, it was also an incredibly dick thing to say. Pointlessly long story short, I kind of expect some teachers to be mean about schoolwork. But not just for no reason.

How Great is Steak and Blowjob Day????????????

As you may or may not know, yesterday was a little constructed holiday called Steak and Blowjob day. It’s not really less fabricated than Valentine’s day, and only slightly more simple-minded, but this one is for the men. And you know what?

Fuck that.

I’m serious. While this might be an understandably minority viewpoint, the entire idea of Steak and Blowjob day pisses me off. First and foremost, I’d like to think I’m slightly more complicated than a Bud Light commercial. The holiday is lazy and generic, and homogeonizes male desire into two physiological and frankly kind of boring impulses. The subtle implication is that their is nothing in the world more desireable to a guy than those two things, and if those two things aren’t at the top of your to-do list at all times, you’re somehow less masculine. The fact that it was intentionally set up as a counterpoint to Valentine’s Day (a holiday which I’m not fond of either), suggests that the male equivalent of “love” and emotional bonding is a side of beef and some fellatio. I’m just about tired of the idea that women are completely emotional creatures that want love and affection while men are concerned primarily –nay, exclusively, with food and sexual gratification.

Beyond that, the idea for the holiday is intensely limiting. While Valentine’s Day is trite and commercial, at least it allows for some room to acknowledge the person with whom who might choose to share it. A couple might easily decide to spend Valentine’s day heckling old footage of the Special Olympics as paddling down the French Riviera in a boat made of puppies, and be romantic. Not so for Cow-n-Chow day. I understand that it’s supposed to be simple, as somewhat of a response to the vagueries of VD, but it should also specifically enjoyable, because otherwise, what’s the point? How about a different holiday, like Keep it Simple Day, where everybody just keeps things simple, and you give your boyfriend or whatever what he might like, not out of ulterior motive, but because you know him and want to make him happy.

Besides, there’s no reason that A1 and Hot Sauce day is a special premise. By putting these things on a pedestal, you imply that they are or should be somehow a difficult thing to attain, rather than a relative occurrence (if that’s what you want). In addition to being mildly offensive, it’s also just stupid, and plays into cultural stereotypes that are as ridiculous as they are banal.

Some thoughts on television

I can’t really justify the fact that I like Scrubs. I dislike basically all of the major actors, for a wide variety of reasons. In fact, there’s not a person in the world whom I would rather punch in the crotch than Zach Braff, just to see if he could maintain that smarmy half-smirk while writhing on the ground grasping for breath. Donald Faison officially wins the award for whitest black stereotype, clinched by the fact that he even knows who the hell Zach Braff is. Sarah Chalke is probably the hottest girl I’ve ever had no attraction towards, and Judith Reyes (Carla) once starred in a Frank Rojas movie.*

* I feel like this is as good a time as any to discuss Frank Rojas. He was the guidance counselor at my high school, i.e., the only Hispanic person not working in the cafeteria. He had all the interpersonal skills of pitbull with its penis caught in a bear trap. I’d like to think of myself as a relatively funny guy - nothing, however, that I could make up could beat his own words. E.g.-

FR: So what wit’ this problem wit Ms. Singh?

X: Nothing. It was just a ridiculous comment.

FR: Is it a race issue? Is it because she’s white?

X: She’s not white. She’s Indian.

FR: Are you sure it’s not because she’s white? You gotta be realer than that. I know exactly what’s going on here, because I’m not white either. We’re like the same, you know.

X: I’m going to kill one of us. And the odds aren’t in your favor.

FR: Be realer than that.

I might have paraphrased this conversation, but the point still remains - I’m not a Frank Rojas fan, and I can’t really like any actress who would star in a movie he directed. Tangent over.

Even the breakout actor, John McGinley (Dr. Cox) chews up scenery like Jeremy Piven on a coke bender. It probably says something about the quality of the other actors that their even able to remain mildly visible during his over the top rants, but I refuse to give them compliments. That being said, I enjoy his obviously scripted tirades.

Not only do I not like the actors, I find the characters annoying one-dimensional. Still, the show manages to make me laugh and keep me interested with witty banter and self-referential dialogue. More than any other show on the air, I find myself enjoying the quality of the writing despite the annoyingness of the actors delivering it.

Oh, and if you have a weekend with friends, or whatever, check out Coupling. In a lot of ways, it’s a slightly more adult version of friends, with more ridiculous plotlines, dirtier jokes, and a far more compelling character (Geoff Murdoch) than any of the Friends characters.

Is it warm in here?

God may be perfect in a lot of ways…but he can’t have been that good in bed. I mean, Mary didn’t even feel it. Which means that either he is just an awful lover, or drugged her. Qualities that he must have passed on; Jesus was getting so many girls pass-out drunk that he had to start turning water into wine. Least he was well-hung though.

I find this amusing.

The only search term that yielded my a click on my blog today was “professional fluffers.” I desperately wish I could have made that up.