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This morning, the California Assembly approved a ceremonial resolution that would make the first week of March “Cuss Free Week.” This measure was inspired by a Southern California teen who created a “no cussing” club at his school. The teen could not be reached for comment because he is currently stuffed in his locker. However, his “no cussing” movement has become an international zeitgeist, and now Californians should think twice before saying shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker, or tits.
Of fucking course the California Assembly has nothing better to do than this. It’s not like there is an ongoing mother fucking recession going on, of which California is specifically hurting. And while the Assembly is trying to clean our language, maybe they should focus on cleaning the goddamn air. The smog is so bad the Hollywood sign could now say Fucktard for all I know.
But first, this stupid fucking measure will have to be signed in by Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. However, Schwarzenegger loves cussing. Once, in 1977, he was quoted as saying “If a girl comes on strong, and says, ‘I really dig your body and I want to fuck the shit out of you,’ I just decide whether or not I like her.” And in his seminal film Running Man, he once said “I hope you leave enough room for my fist, because I’m going to ram it into your stomach and break your goddamn spine.”
I have a feeling the Governator’s love of the word fuck may stop him from signing this resolution, considering he once sent this letter out to legislaters:
“The guy with the guitar who laughs at everything.” - David Letterman
It was announced Kevin Eubanks will be stepping down from The Tonight Show some time soon after Jay Leno returns to his throne of lies.
Undoubtedly the worst bandleader in late night, Eubanks never added anything substantial to the show. He never said anything of note. So why did I assemble the above tribute video? Why am I eulogizing Kevin Eubanks? Because from the few times I watched Jay Leno’s program (with my eyelids forced open Clockwork Orange-style) I noticed Kevin Eubanks wasn’t a bandleader – he was a friend.
Eubanks is a friend who sticks with you through the good and the bad (well mostly bad). He laughs at your jokes even when they aren’t funny, or as Jay Leno calls them: the monologue. And he is dependable. Whenever Jay Leno asks “you hear about this one, Kevin?,” Eubanks has no idea what he is talking about. Everytime! That’s dependability.
Gentlemen, it is great to be single on Valentine’s Day for one simple fact: you will not have to go see Valentine’s Day. Packed with an all-star cast, the romantic comedy is estimated to open with a huge $50 million weekend, and a sequel (New Year’s Day) is already rumored to be in the works. Men from around the globe will be dragged to this film. May God have mercy on their souls.
However, if you are single, you are safe. Valentine’s Day, currently rocking a 34/100 score on Metacritic.com, has been destroyed by the critics. And they seemed to have enjoyed obliterating this romantic comedy epic.
I present the top ten reasons you should be extremely happy you won’t have to see Valentine’s Day
10. “How you feel about Valentine’s Day may depend on how you feel when someone really, really cute gives you a nasty box of cheap chocolate on Valentine’s Day, picked up at the corner Rite Aid and delivered with the price tag still attached.” “… a screenplay that could be translated into Na’Vi without losing nuance”
- Lisa Schwarzbaum, Entertainment Weekly
9. “Black hole of a movie” “a sloppy mess that can’t even be bothered to light and photograph its gorgeous cast properly.” “A heart-shaped pox”
- Lou Lumenick, New York Post
8. “Aggressively unfunny and unromantic.”
- Kimberly Jones, Austin Chronicle
7. “It’s a disaster: cynically made, barely directed, terribly written.”
- Manohla Dargis, New York Times
6. “Garry Marshall’s holiday rom-com made me want to flee to a happier place — like an Iranian prison.” “Mawkishly sentimental and highly predictable” “Teeth-grindingly, mind-warpingly boring.”
- Andrew O’Hehir, Salon.com
5. “Lame and contrived” “Superficial, club-footed Whitman’s sampler of moldy bonbons”
- Rex Reed, New York Observer
4. “Think of it as the Crash of romance, the Short Cuts of bullshit.”
- Karina Longworth, Village Voice
3. “Hard to watch” “Feels less like a movie and more like a strategically programmed effort to turn as many demographic groups as possible into mooshy, gooshy, candy-heart-munching morons.”
- Jen Chaney, Washington Post
2. “… from the sickeningly sappy to the cornball to the groaningly precious and obnoxiously cute.” “Shameless sentiment and sitcom wackiness executed with the kind of flailing desperation that’s generally accompanied by an overactive laugh track.” “Magnum opus of pandering schlock.”
- Nathan Rabin, A.V. Club
1. “Don’t let Cupid suck you into crass commercialism disguised as a romantic comedy. Valentine’s Day is a date movie from hell.” “… all the heart of a two-dollar-whore. Nothing in this cold-blooded exercise in comic calculation feels human.”
Peter Travers, Rolling Stone
So forget what society tells you, because it is awesome to be single on Valentine’s Day. The men in the world with girlfriends will be poorer after having to buy chocolates and roses, and they’ll still have to sit through this concentration camp-esque cinematic experience.
Me? I’ll be at home, sipping on some Scotch, watching 30 Rock: A XXX Parody, and softly laughing at everyone that had to see Valentine’s Day, a movie that stars not one - but two doctors from Grey’s Anatomy.
Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!
In the most annoying sensation to hit Facebook since those Farmville updates began crowding your homepage, people all across America have replaced their profile pictures with that of their celebrity doppelgängers (or celebrity look-a-likes for those of you who did not study four years of German at the University of Düsseldorf.)
You see, it’s not the idea of doppelgänger profile pictures that annoys me, but the practice. Allow me to explain.
I go on Facebook for one reason and one reason only: to stalk hot women. Now I am incapable of seeing how hot these women actually are now that their profile picture has been replaced by Megan Fox or Zooey Deschanel. And I’m a little ticked off at the very vain ugly people putting extremely attractive people as their doppelgängers. Really, you think you look like Penelope Cruz? Buddy, you really think you look like that shirtless Amerindian from Twilight? Really?
But I am a slave to pop culture zeitgeists, and decided to discover my own celebrity doppelgänger. I plugged my photograph into a program on MyHeritage.com, and was quite surprised at the outcome.
For those of you wondering, yes, I am a white man.
But is this fascination with celebrity doppelgängers exclusive only to non-famous folk? Could I go onto Nick Nolte’s Facebook page and find his profile picture replaced with that of Gary Busey? What about Bill Paxton and Bill Pullman? Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley? Javier Bardem and Jeffrey Dean Morgan? Amy Adams and Isla Fisher? Johnny Depp and Skeet Ulrich? Paul McCartney and Angela Lansbury?!
But like all internet sensations, this one may disappear faster than a panda sneezing. So let us enjoy the minor pleasures, like the girl who mistakenly believes she looks like Halle Berry, or the dude that looks suspiciously like Quentin Tarantino, or the relative of mine who asks if I’ve recently been tanning.
Rip Torn, most recently famous for playing the crazy old man in Dodgeball, proved he really wasn’t so great an actor when the actually crazy old man tried to rob a bank.
Yes. You read that correctly. Rip Torn, the actor with the greatest name of all time, was arrested for trying to break into a bank. His subsequent mugshot was glorious, and seemed to state: Oh fuck shit.
I recently received my CPR license from the Red Cross, which means I am qualified to pretend to know what I’m doing in case of an emergency. While I do not feel I properly learned anything about how to save a person’s life, there were several lessons I jotted down during the excruciating four-hour class.
Our teacher could not have been younger than 130. And she did little more than to press play on an instructional DVD, narrated by the vocal stylings of Peyton Manning. This woman, who was older than the game of football, informed us she loved Peyton and enjoyed watching this video over and over.
The instructional DVD had some choice quotes. They included: “Assume everyone has AIDS” and “Listing for moaning.” These were all dutifully written down by my classmates, who I can only describe as mouth breathing, odd smelling titans of industry. They took careful notes, all seemingly worried about the certification test, which even the stupidest NBC executive could have passed.
Additionally, I was informed that when someone is conscious I must first ask for permission before giving them CPR. Before being taught this, I was under the assumption that I could just walk up to any given person and begin wacking on their chest and breathing into their mouth without their consent.
We were told to “always carry rubber gloves and a mouth barrier on you at all times.” Unfortunately, since I am not a serial killer, I have no intention of always carrying gloves. And since I am not a prostitute, I will not be carrying what I assume to be the medical equivalent of a dental dam on me at all times.
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