Wednesday, July 28, 2010

My Gift to the City of Cleveland (NOT intended for kids - You've been warned)

It's pretty rare that I feel the urge to use my blog brilliance, nay blogilliance, to help out an entire city.  But I feel for you, Cleveland, I do.  Every guy's had his heart broken by some girl at some point in his life.  In your case, the girl is a gigantic man whose singular act of betrayal is the sort of thing that forms the basis of religions.  But LeBron's no Judas . . . No, he's much, much worse.  He's some sort of MegaJudas (TM).  At least Judas got paid for his betrayal.  LeBron took less money just to betray you.  Think about that for a minute, Cleveland.

Less money!

More betrayal!

MegaJudas!

So here you go, Cleveland.  This one's on me.  I'm not going to go to the effort of photoshopping it so that it looks all nice.  You get the gist.  Make it look as nice as you want and then print them up by the truckload.  Distribute them to every man, woman, and child (especially the children because they are the ones who will suffer the most from LeBron's betrayal) in the greater Cleveland area.  Drop crates of the shirts on Miami like packages of humanitarian aid.

[Legal Team's Note:  The RUMOR referenced in this tee-shirt is just a RUMOR and Mr. Baty is in NO WAY insinuating that it is in ANY WAY true.  It's just something he read maybe here and here and here and well, let's face it, everybody's heard of the RUMOR by now so you can hardly blame him for taking the next logical step and, truth be told, his brain is so damaged by the DRINK and by AGE that he NO LONGER has ANY idea what he's writing or even where he is presently located.  He is simply a BROKEN and RUINED OLD MAN who is waiting around to DIE and is therefore NO THREAT to you so please DO NOT SUE HIM, because, if you haven't figured it out by now, we AREN'T REALLY a legal team in any sense of the word.]









An Ode to the Greatest Moment of The Price is Right

The moment I'm referring to happens during the Showcase and involves the first contestant accepting the first showcase offered, only to be crushed when the second showcase is then revealed to be several orders of magnitude better than the first.  It goes a little something like this -

Bob Barker: Let's see our first showcase!

Rich the Announcer: Our first showcase starts off with . . . a new 50 inch flat screen TV!  But who wants to stay at home watching television when you can take . . . a trip to an exclusive resort spa in Spain!  But that's not all!  You're going to need a ride home when you arrive back at the airport, so how about you take that ride . . . in this new car!  All this can be yours if the price is right!

(Crowd Applauds)

Bob Barker: So, Mike, do you want to pass or bid?

Mike:  I'll bid, Bob.  Ummmm . . . Thirty-two thousand six-hundred fifty dollars!

Bob Barker: Thirty-two thousand six-hundred fifty dollars!

(Crowd Applauds)

Bob:  And what showcase do we have for John, our second contestant?

Rich: Well, Bob, our next showcase starts with this new car!

(Crowd Applauds)

 Rich: But we're not giving you this car . . .

(Crowd is confused)

Rich: No!  I'm afraid this car is just a rental.  You see, every night for a month, you'll park this car at Lover's Point where . . . five, yes, that's right, five, Price is Right showcase models will take turns orally pleasuring you!

(Crowd Applauds)

Mike:  Wait, what?

Rich: Let's hope you have some energy left after the Festival of Fellatio, because on the last night, you're going to drive your car just up the road to . . . a demolition derby!

(Crowd Applauds)

Rich: Yes!  Compete against fifty other drivers in a no holds barred balls to the wall contest of man and machine!

(Crowd Applauds)

Rich: You're going to need a vacation from all those blowjobs and car crashes, so luckily we've booked you the first flight to . . . Dinosaur Island!

(Crowd Applauds)

Rich: Dinosaur Island!  Situated somewhere in the Atlantic and unknown to both the general public and high-ranking government officials, Dinosaur Island is truly an exotic paradise, a paradise where Price is Right scientists have spent the last two decades painstakingly manipulating lizard DNA in order to create whole new races of massive dinosaurs!

(Crowd Applauds)

Mike: Bullshit!  This is bullshit!

Rich: Spending all afternoon riding dinosaurs is enough to make any man a little hungry.  Good thing you have dinner reservations at Dinosaur Island's exclusive Excalibur Castle with . . . the Batman!

(Crowd Applauds)

Rich: Yes!  Dine with the Dark Knight himself!  Maybe he'll even take you out for a spin in his . . . no, wait. . .  in YOUR new Batmobile!

Mike: I did not know that these were things you could win!

Rich: Every mysterious island paradise has a few dark secrets and Dinosaur Island is no different.  So, I ask you, what's a trip without a little . . . hunting?  Yes!  At the conclusion of your trip you will hunt the most dangerous of all game . . . Man!  Thirty unwilling participants abducted from an exclusive resort spa in Spain -

Mike: What?

Rich: - are just waiting for you to strike them down with your arsenal of assault rifles, chainsaws, and rocket launchers!

(Crowd Applauds)

Rich: All this can be yours if the price is right!

(Crowd Applauds)

Bob: John, your bid please.

John:  All the money, Bob!  All!  The!  Money!

(Crowd Applauds)

Thursday, July 22, 2010

The Freedom Tower . . . We Just Forgot to Build That, Right?

It's okay; I know how it goes.  I've spent most of my adult life working in soul-sucking/crushing bureaucracies.  Somebody has something to do.  He puts it off.  He puts it off some more.  Then he finally gets around to it and then somebody somewhere has to sign off on something and that person take his sweet time.  Before you know it, too much time has lapsed, and now the task that was supposed to be done is so late that if it does get finished, somebody higher-up is going to realize that it should have been done a long time ago.  So instead of getting done it gets swept under the rug.  That's pretty much what happened with the Freedom Tower, right?  But instead of getting that quarterly report to Mr. Johnson in Accounting, we forgot to build a skyscraper in downtown New York City.

Given my hatred of traveling, anybody who happens to know me may be surprised to learn that I was actually at Ground Zero in 2003 (which was also the last time I've stepped a foot outside of Oregon, I believe).  At that time, it was a huge - HUGE - hole in the ground.  The wreckage had been cleared up by then, but there wasn't much of anything on the site.  And now, seven years later?  Apparently still a whole lot of nothing.

(Note to all you single guys out there:  Make sure you tell women that you don't like to travel and would rather stay at home with your cat.  They LOVE to hear stuff like that.  You might as well tell them that your favorite things are cuddling children and talking about your feelings at length.)

Monday, July 12, 2010

Scenes from Mel Gibson Movies Rewritten in Light of Recent Events

I

Lethal Weapon

Suicidal loose-cannon, L.A.P.D. Detective Martin Riggs, is introduced to his new partner, L.A.P.D. Detective Roger Murtaugh.

Police Chief:  Riggs, come here.  I want you to meet your new partner, Detective Murtaugh.

Riggs:  Ohhhhhhhh, hell to the fucking no!







II

Mad Max

A small child, Timmy, explains to Max that his wife and son have been murdered by marauding motorcycle gang.

Timmy:  Max!  The motorcycle gang killed your wife and son!

Max:  Well, too bad about the kid.  But you have to admit the bitch sort of had it coming.  Always wearing those whore-dresses and that whore-makeup and the such.

Timmy:  What?

Max:  . . .

Timmy:  . . .

Max:  . . .

Timmy:  You know what, Max, you sort of make me uncomfortable.

Max:  Ha-Ha!  (rustling his hair with his hand)  No, I don't, Timmy!  No, I don't!


 



III

The Passion of the Christ


Actually, this one is pretty much the same.






IIII

Braveheart

Londoners watch as Scottish warrior, William Wallace, is tortured.
 
Royal Magistrate:  It can all end, right now.  Peace. Bliss.  Just say it.  Cry out mercy.

Crowd:  Mercy . . . mercy!

Royal Magistrate:  Cry out.  Just say it.  Mercy.

William:  (mumbling)

Royal Magistrate:  The prisoner wishes to say a word.

William:  THE JEWS CONTROL THE MEDIA AND OWN ALL THE BANKS AND KILLED CHRIST!  READ THE PROTOCOLS OF THE ELDERS OF ZION!  READ IT!  OPEN YOUR EYES!

Royal Magistrate:  Wait, what?

William:  SUGAR TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTSSSSSSS!!!!!






IIIII

Hamlet


Prince Hamlet of Denmark enters the Royal Court.  A lady-in-waiting and several royal servants greet him.

Hamlet:  Where the fuck is Shylock?  Where the fuck is that jew Shylock?

Royal Servant:  I'm sorry, my lord, who?  Perhaps his lordship has suffered a blow to the head recently and is confused.

Hamlet:  Where the fuck is he?  I got his pound of flesh right here.

Hamlet withdraws his penis from his trousers.  A lady-in-waiting gasps and then faints.

Hamlet:  What?  You don't like what you see, sugar tits?  Fucking lesbo.






IIIIII

Signs

A former Episcopal priest, Graham Hess, hides from an alien attack in his basement with his son, Morgan, and daughter, Bo.

Bo:  Daddy, what are we going to do?

Graham:  It'll be all right, sweety.  What do you see on the TV, Morgan?  Any news?

Morgan:  The aliens are everywhere, dad.

Graham:  Now, are these the sorts of aliens that might, you know, only kill jews and black people and gays?

Morgan:  What?

Graham:  I'm just saying, son, let's see what we're dealing with here before we panic.

Morgan:  Dad, what sort of aliens only kill jews and black people and gays?

Graham:  The best damn aliens in the universe!  That's who, son!






Friday, July 9, 2010

Frownland or: Cleveland Rocks, and by "Rocks" I mean "Sucks." A lot.

Et tu, LeBron?

Bill Simmons ended yesterday's column on Lebron's "Decision" with this -

What a week for LeBron's brand. I just hope he remembers to wipe the blood off the knife after he pulls it from Cleveland's back.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/100708

But that's the wrong way to look at it.  Knifing Cleveland in the back would have kind compared to what Lebron did.  A mercy killing.  A knife to the back would have been a curt press release stating that LeBron was leaving Cleveland for the glitz, glamor, and venereal diseases of South Beach.  No, LeBron wanted to look Cleveland in the face as he knifed it, his hand pressed over Cleveland's mouth.  And he laughed, Cleveland.  He laughed the entire time he was knifing you with his knife, the handle of which was already adorned with the Miami Heat's logo.






And Dwyane Wade?  He just stood there and watched.  And laughed, too.

And Chris Bosh?  Actually, he got lost on the way to the knifing and kept circling the block in his taxi, but know that he was there in spirit.

So I guess the point I'm trying to make is this: If you're going to fuck over an entire state that loves you more than Santa Claus and Jesus and a warm Summer's day and Mom's apple pie combined, don't do it on a contrived one-hour prime-time show for the entire nation to watch.

Honestly, right up to the point where LeBron announced his decision, I still wasn't convinced that he was leaving Cleveland, despite all the "sources" saying otherwise.  I wasn't convinced because I thought: Who could do this to an entire city?  An entire state?  Wouldn't that person have to be a sociopath?  To be unable to comprehend the effect his actions had on others?  Surely an hour-long television special must mean that LeBron intends to stay?  LeBron will announce that he's staying and the show will be a LeBron LeLovefest

But no.

It was the opposite of that.  The opposite with knives.


Let me answer a few of your questions.

Hi Nate.  Let's me get right to the point.  With such an oppressive history of shame and failure, should the city of Cleveland be razed?

Short answer, yes.  Long answer . . . well, still yes.

So what are we talking about here?  Relocating the city's residents over a period of six months to a year, then demolishing every structure, every skyscraper, every school, every hospital, every house, then salting the earth so that nothing will ever grow there again?  Or are we talking about the National Guard showing up in the middle of the night, establishing a perimeter ten miles around the city in every direction, then calling in air support to drop thirty to forty low-yield nuclear weapons on the metropolis as they wait to pick off any mutated survivors who try to escape the nuclear ruins?

Funny thing about salting the earth:  There's a big debate as to whether it is actually (1) an effective practice and (2) ever really took place in ancient times. Take a look at the discussion page of the Wikipedia entry:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talk:Salting_the_earth

or google "Does salting the earth work?"

Oh, and obviously the latter option.

So, how are the other teams in the Eastern Conference . . . Wait . . .  Did you just advocate murdering the entire population of a major American city?

LOL . . . no.  Of course not.  ROFL! : )  Look at this picture of a cat!






Fair enough.  In respect to Cleveland owner Dan Gilbert's rambling, bizarre statement, wherein he promises a Cleveland title before a Heat title, what is going to be the ratio of funny to sad if the Heat win the title next year?

Almost fifty-fifty, to be honest.  We might need a new word that means equal parts funny and sad.  Do we have a word like that already?  Probably.

On a scale of one to Judas, how profound is LeBron's betrayal?

Good question.  It's definitely ahead of Lando betraying Han Solo and Benedict Arnold (that's "Han Solo STOP and Benedict Arnold" - I don't think Lando betrayed them both - or maybe he did - I haven't seen The Empire Strikes Back in a while).  I'm guessing that we're squarely in Fredo Corleone betraying his own brother territory.







So, how are the other teams in the NBA going to compete?  Is it just Miami Heat titles for foreseeable future?

That's the ten-thousand dollar question.  Bill Simmons was ready to give Chicago the next decade of titles if they won the LeBron sweepstakes.  It's sort of hard to see how going to Miami to play with Wade and Bosh is a downgrade from Joakim Noah and Derrick Rose.  If you want to argue for the Heat's failure, it's going to be because Wade and LeBron can't play together, which is entirely possible, or because two superstars and one maybe-superstar can't win without a team of solid role-players.  What happens if they lose four in a row and the bickering begins?  What if Wade misses a few last second jumpers and LeBron starts wondering why he isn't taking the shot?

In yesterday's column, Simmons dismisses the Heat's chances.  I'm not sure if it's the case that he believes this, or if he's just bitter because he'll be an old, broken man by the time his beloved Boston Celtics can sniff another title.  I'm sort of leaning toward the latter.  As Simmons mentions in today's column, the Lakers had arguably two of the best five players in the NBA at the time with Kobe and Shaq, and we saw how that went.  The NBA is the league where the team with the best players tends to win more often than not.  This isn't the NFL where anything can happen in a single game.  Some team is going to have to play the Heat in a seven-game series and beat them four times.

Also keep in mind that we don't know yet what sort of team the Heat is going to build around the trio (I think that they have exactly one player under contract).  It's possible that they will fill the roster with solid players who are willing to take a pay cut for an almost-certain title.  Granted, there's this appealing idea that LeBron needs to be The Man and play with a solid supporting cast - the Michael Jordan blueprint.  Then again, you have to admit that the naysayers might look sort of stupid when Miami wins seventy-five games next season and sweeps through the playoffs while essentially playing three on five.  At least we can all have fun rooting against them.

Well, not you, Cleveland.  You should have started evacuation procedures twenty minutes ago.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

What Did They Know and When Did They Know It?


http://news.blogs.cnn.com/2010/07/06/70s-board-game-contains-eerie-bp-oil-spill-scenarios/

A nearly 40-year-old board game is getting a lot of new attention because of eerie similarities between the scenarios of its play and the 78-day-old BP Gulf oil disaster.

The game BP Offshore Oil Strike, which came out in the 1970s and is adorned with an old BP logo, revolves around four players exploring for oil, building platforms and constructing pipelines all in the name of being the first to make $120 million.


What did they know?  Everything!

When did they know it?  Forty years ago!

And they put it in board game form!

Everybody's favorite form!

Just to fuck with us!

Bastards!

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

This Is What People in Heaven Eat

But first,

I

Republicans Go Cuckoo Bananas

a) http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/05/us/politics/05steele.html

Michael Steele, the chairman of the Republican National Committee, sought to contain a growing furor within his party on Sunday as three Republican lawmakers questioned his effectiveness because of his suggestion that the military conflict in Afghanistan was not winnable and was “a war of Obama’s choosing."






To clarify for you kids out there, we're talking about a war that was (1) started by Obama's predecessor (2) because almost three thousand Americans were murdered.

Have you ever been involved in a conversation where the person you are talking to says something so bizarre that you simply smile and nod, assuming that you must have misheard him or completely misunderstood?  That's like what we have here, only if the person you were talking to also paused mid-conversation to urinate on the graves of three-thousand Americans before continuing, which would certainly be awkward to say the least.

b) http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/18/us/politics/18barton.html?

“I’m ashamed of what happened in the White House yesterday,” Mr. Barton said in his opening statement. “I think it is a tragedy of the first proportion that a private corporation can be subjected to what I would characterize as a shakedown — in this case a $20 billion shakedown.”






Barton's remarks occurred during a televised meeting of the House Energy and Commerce hearing about the BP oil disaster.  Though outrage followed from both Republicans and Democrats, viewers were spared the worst of Barton's meltdown, the camera cutting away as he dropped to his knees, proclaimed BP chief executive, Tony Hayward, his "new dark lord and master," and then implored the other members of Congress to repeatedly shout Hayward's name in unison so that he would be elected through the process of acclamation as our "Virile and All-Knowing Emperor of these Fifty-States Which Bow United Beneath Him."  I wish I was making this up.  I am not.

The reason I mention these two stories isn't because I like to bring two-week old news to your attention for cheap laughs.  Well, yes, actually I guess that is the reason, and so now -


II


http://www.thisiswhyyourefat.com/?p=543931201





I came across that gastronomical monstrosity (a KFC Double Down Luther Sandwich) the other day when I was looking at pictures of the McGangBang, which is actually the name of a sandwich, and not something I accidentally stumbled across while searching for porn.  As far as you know.  Okay, just kidding, I stumbled across it while looking for porn.




The McGangBang is, according to urbandictionary.com, the preeminent source for all things gangbangy -

. . . a sandwich made from a double cheeseburger and a McChicken sandwich — where you put an entire McChicken sandwich inside a double cheeseburger.

I, for one, think that we as a society are moving in the right direction when one thing that we eat is now used as bread for another thing that we eat.  I'm pretty sure that's what they were doing in Rome right before the fa . . . a . . . a . . . ll lineup.  Yes, the fall lineup.  I'm pretty sure that's what they did in Rome right before the fall lineup.

Also, if you're keeping track at home, McGangBangs are reason #14 on the list of "Reasons Why the Terrorists Hate Us," right behind "Our Freedom" and ahead of, oddly, regular gang bangs.