Monday, November 14, 2005
Vaya con dios, Latino Heat
Sadly, pro wrestler Eddie "Latino Heat" Guerrero was found unexpectedly dead in his hotel room this morning. For those not into WWE Smackdown, this is Eddie:
Eddie Guerrero popularized his character by utilizing stereotypical Hispanic cliches and catchphrases like "Who's your Papi?" and "Viva la Raza." His entrance video montage showed him hopping around on hydraulic-equipped low riders with these scantily clad, full-assed chicks, a bunch of barking Pit Bulls on chains, and fellow Mexican mask-wearing wrestlers like his nephew Chavo.
It's too bad Eddie just randomly died (from complications due to steroid abuse, no doubt.) The flags should be lowered to half-mast, here and in Mexico. You were my Papi, dude. You were my Papi.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Rita Cosby should be exploded
I hate Rita Cosby. In the dark hour between the end of the afternoon football games and the beginning of the Sunday night game, I was watching this awesome Dateline special on MSNBC where these people pose as children in Yahoo chatrooms and entrap would-be molesters. There's really nothing more satisfying than luring these heinous pervs to a suburban kitchen where they think a horny pubescent teen awaits, only to have a smarmy Dateline reporter jump out and read their explicit online chat transcripts back to them. Each of these disgusting, man boob-equipped losers was sporting a heinous outfit, a distended gut, and insisted that they didn't come for sex with a 12-year-old, despite being confronted with the fact that they are all showcasing their penis to every minor on Yahoo via a webcam. I am intrigued, and flip to this investigative report as I'm watching the last few minutes of the Bucs-Redskins game. Then the Dateline special ends, and Rita Cosby's shitshow commences.
In case you are not familiar with Rita Cosby, she's this gravelly voiced cow who has slutted her way around all the major cable news networks and has now decided to spread her special brand of journalistic herpes at MSNBC. MSNBC, like FoxNews before it, has foolishly given this skank an entire hour to blab mindlessly about whatever pointless story she's been reporting this week (for example, this bitch was all over the protracted Natalee Holloway saga like a high school senior in Aruba on Ecstasy pills and random Dutch dick).
Tonight, since Rita's lazy ass has been sitting around the office donut box instead of going out reporting, she doesn't have a story of her own, so she just decided to rehash the entire Dateline episode, thus ruining it entirely. Listening to this bitch ramble mindlessly about child molesters makes me want to commit seppuku for simply entertaining her brand of "reporting" is a dishonor to my clan.
Even worse, she is interviewing/colluding with some self-important woman with 5 chins, who dispenses advice like "Use parental controls" and "Don't buy your kids a webcam" and "If your child starts talking about chatting with older men, it's time to maybe have a conversation." Gee, you think? I'm glad that Rita Cosby has rounded up the crack online child advocates to dole out common sense, like "if you think your stupid kid is chatting online with a sex predator, ask them about it."
Rita Cosby, like her colleague Nancy Grace over at Headline News, has a pushy attitude and an incredibly annoying voice. While Nancy Grace's voice is an irritating, overdone Southern twang, Rita sounds like she preps for her show by smoking an entire pack of unfiltered Camels. The voice is what makes all her inane questions go from annoying to homicidal rage-inducing. I think that idiot news network executives must think it's edgy or somehow appealing, because she keeps getting jobs. And good stories...like running around New Orleans for a week after Hurricane Katrina. That's like the kind of story Geraldo or someone gets, and there's Rita Cosby's fat ass in a MSNBC rain parka! I HATE this woman. I have to turn it to NFL PrimeTime just to get my damn blood pressure under control.
Avoid MSNBC at 7 pm on Sundays at all costs.
In case you are not familiar with Rita Cosby, she's this gravelly voiced cow who has slutted her way around all the major cable news networks and has now decided to spread her special brand of journalistic herpes at MSNBC. MSNBC, like FoxNews before it, has foolishly given this skank an entire hour to blab mindlessly about whatever pointless story she's been reporting this week (for example, this bitch was all over the protracted Natalee Holloway saga like a high school senior in Aruba on Ecstasy pills and random Dutch dick).
Tonight, since Rita's lazy ass has been sitting around the office donut box instead of going out reporting, she doesn't have a story of her own, so she just decided to rehash the entire Dateline episode, thus ruining it entirely. Listening to this bitch ramble mindlessly about child molesters makes me want to commit seppuku for simply entertaining her brand of "reporting" is a dishonor to my clan.Even worse, she is interviewing/colluding with some self-important woman with 5 chins, who dispenses advice like "Use parental controls" and "Don't buy your kids a webcam" and "If your child starts talking about chatting with older men, it's time to maybe have a conversation." Gee, you think? I'm glad that Rita Cosby has rounded up the crack online child advocates to dole out common sense, like "if you think your stupid kid is chatting online with a sex predator, ask them about it."
Rita Cosby, like her colleague Nancy Grace over at Headline News, has a pushy attitude and an incredibly annoying voice. While Nancy Grace's voice is an irritating, overdone Southern twang, Rita sounds like she preps for her show by smoking an entire pack of unfiltered Camels. The voice is what makes all her inane questions go from annoying to homicidal rage-inducing. I think that idiot news network executives must think it's edgy or somehow appealing, because she keeps getting jobs. And good stories...like running around New Orleans for a week after Hurricane Katrina. That's like the kind of story Geraldo or someone gets, and there's Rita Cosby's fat ass in a MSNBC rain parka! I HATE this woman. I have to turn it to NFL PrimeTime just to get my damn blood pressure under control.
Avoid MSNBC at 7 pm on Sundays at all costs.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Army Ads Suck
There's this Army recruiting commercial that galls me to no end. It consists of this pain-in-the-ass, redneck Kentucky dad giving his bloated, phallic son a backhanded compliment.
(The setting is a screened-in porch in Dad's Ozark lean-to, with Dad sporting a real-working-guy/farmer/Joad plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Jr. relaxing on leave from Baghdad in his full dress uniform, complete with epaulets.)
Dad: "Blah blah blah, you surprised me coming off the train. You did something you never did before, 'least not at the same time."
Son: (stares slack-jawed gazing at father)
Dad: "Ya shook my hand, and ya looked me in the eye."
Son: (emotionless smirk)
Dad: "Where'd that come from?"
Son: (satisfied smirk...implying that "it's the character you build when you spend your days choreographing sadistic piles of naked 'terrorists', Dad. You know, the Army!"
Viewer: THE ARMY LOOKS AWESOME! I'M GOING TO JOIN SO I CAN RECEIVE CRYPTIC APPROVAL FROM MY INCREDIBLY JUDGMENTAL YET BARELY LITERATE FATHER! I'M SIGNING UP TOMORROW!
The Army has a shitty ad strategy. My cousin Joseph is in the Army, and his job sounds awesome (except for the biannual trips to Iraq/Afghanistan/somewhere in the Middle East with huge bugs--although he did bring back some cool vintage Taliban burqas one time). He orders platoons of grunts around, drives a personalized Hummer in desert camo finish, leads hordes of shouting guys out of airplanes, and engages in military subterfuge...or at least I think he does, he doesn't tell anyone what he does, which probably means he works with computers. I like to think he's running around singing marching songs and saying sardonic, prescient Apocalypse Now-type shit, then blowing something up or stealing something from the enemy or chasing some Muhajadeen with rockets. That sounds fun. If I were about to graduate high school, with no prospects for college, and for some reason decided the best course of action would be to add meat to the grinder, I would want to hear about parachuting and X-TREME drills and learning how to use computers and fuck people up. Anyone with an I.Q. higher than Ma$e's knows that joining the Army now as a non-officer, generic soldier type means going to Iraq and getting your ass beat down by some random insurgent, so the Army sure as hell better sell something overwhelmingly awesome in return. Instead, we get PFC. Lynndie England's baby daddy.
That's where the Army's marketing people fucked up. They're selling the opportunity to be a loser. No matter how many bullets you dodge, how many dudes you fuck up in whichever yonder lands America decides to invade, you are the guy who wears your work clothes even when you're off. You are the guy whose entire identity hangs on his supercilious prick of a father's opinion. You are the guy who looks like a penis. An ugly penis, with a terrible haircut that makes the visceral impact of the penis-resemblance that much more revolting. That's what joining the Army gets for you. Not glory, not respect from your countrymen for your patriotism. You get to be the guy with nothing to brag about but a firm handshake and a dazed expression.
The Army should quit wasting their/my taxpayer money and just say that you get to jump out of planes, waste assholes with cool guns, then go to fuck lots of Teutonic military prostitutes during your post-limb amputation hospital stay at Ramstein (not to be confused with German death metal band Rammstein, of "Du Hast" fame) Air Force Base. Cut the bullshit already...this commercial blows.
(The setting is a screened-in porch in Dad's Ozark lean-to, with Dad sporting a real-working-guy/farmer/Joad plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and Jr. relaxing on leave from Baghdad in his full dress uniform, complete with epaulets.)
Dad: "Blah blah blah, you surprised me coming off the train. You did something you never did before, 'least not at the same time."
Son: (stares slack-jawed gazing at father)
Dad: "Ya shook my hand, and ya looked me in the eye."
Son: (emotionless smirk)
Dad: "Where'd that come from?"
Son: (satisfied smirk...implying that "it's the character you build when you spend your days choreographing sadistic piles of naked 'terrorists', Dad. You know, the Army!"
Viewer: THE ARMY LOOKS AWESOME! I'M GOING TO JOIN SO I CAN RECEIVE CRYPTIC APPROVAL FROM MY INCREDIBLY JUDGMENTAL YET BARELY LITERATE FATHER! I'M SIGNING UP TOMORROW!
The Army has a shitty ad strategy. My cousin Joseph is in the Army, and his job sounds awesome (except for the biannual trips to Iraq/Afghanistan/somewhere in the Middle East with huge bugs--although he did bring back some cool vintage Taliban burqas one time). He orders platoons of grunts around, drives a personalized Hummer in desert camo finish, leads hordes of shouting guys out of airplanes, and engages in military subterfuge...or at least I think he does, he doesn't tell anyone what he does, which probably means he works with computers. I like to think he's running around singing marching songs and saying sardonic, prescient Apocalypse Now-type shit, then blowing something up or stealing something from the enemy or chasing some Muhajadeen with rockets. That sounds fun. If I were about to graduate high school, with no prospects for college, and for some reason decided the best course of action would be to add meat to the grinder, I would want to hear about parachuting and X-TREME drills and learning how to use computers and fuck people up. Anyone with an I.Q. higher than Ma$e's knows that joining the Army now as a non-officer, generic soldier type means going to Iraq and getting your ass beat down by some random insurgent, so the Army sure as hell better sell something overwhelmingly awesome in return. Instead, we get PFC. Lynndie England's baby daddy.
That's where the Army's marketing people fucked up. They're selling the opportunity to be a loser. No matter how many bullets you dodge, how many dudes you fuck up in whichever yonder lands America decides to invade, you are the guy who wears your work clothes even when you're off. You are the guy whose entire identity hangs on his supercilious prick of a father's opinion. You are the guy who looks like a penis. An ugly penis, with a terrible haircut that makes the visceral impact of the penis-resemblance that much more revolting. That's what joining the Army gets for you. Not glory, not respect from your countrymen for your patriotism. You get to be the guy with nothing to brag about but a firm handshake and a dazed expression.
The Army should quit wasting their/my taxpayer money and just say that you get to jump out of planes, waste assholes with cool guns, then go to fuck lots of Teutonic military prostitutes during your post-limb amputation hospital stay at Ramstein (not to be confused with German death metal band Rammstein, of "Du Hast" fame) Air Force Base. Cut the bullshit already...this commercial blows.
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