Thursday, October 30, 2008
Phinish Phelps
I'm officially sick of Michael Phelps. I was actually sick of him the second the swimming part of the Olympics ended, but now I'm REALLY sick of his fug ass showing up everywhere. It was bad enough having my gossip pages cluttered up with reports of all the random pussy he was hauling with the help of his sheaf of gold medals, followed by denials from Michael Phelps's handlers that his Olympic gold turned him into a man-slut of the highest caliber. Now I have to endure him in commercials hawking everything from cell phones to cereal to Visa check cards. The other day when I saw him learning Mandarin with a Rosetta Stone do-it-yourself language lesson, I actually cursed at the television. I heard that he's currently negotiating with world-class dipshit Ashton Kutcher and his succubus wife for a reality show, which I can't imagine will consist of anything besides Michael Phelps eating ungodly amounts of food and flashing his ugly mug for the camera. Meanwhile, Page Six is reporting that he got paid 100K for showing up at some big shot television douchebag's wife's birthday party and swimming some laps.
I have no problem with dudes selling out in order to stack that paper before everyone forgets who they are. Surely, in Michael Phelps's case, he's MAYBE got one more Olympics to remind us all that he's got an allele or two in his genome that confers phenotypic traits more common to aquatic mammals, and then he'll be an afterthought at best. Like Mark Spitz before him, after his Olympic glory days are over we'll only hear about Phelps when he's sitting bitterly in the stands at the 2028 or 2032 Olympics trying to make backhanded compliments concerning his successor to an aging Bob Costas sound slightly less backhanded. I can't blame him for being completely shameless about his media whoring while demand still exists. However, I am over seeing his disturbingly Eli Manning-esque visage hawking Corn Pops, and I can't imagine why any woman who is married to an obviously rich old man would want to live the dream of having him strip down and swim for her. I can think of about 50 guys I'd rather see dripping wet in a Speedo, and most of them would do it for less than a hundred grand.
I'm not sure what it is about Phelps that I'm so tired of, but it may have something to do with the fact that he looks like this one dude I banged last year. This guy and I got along pleasantly enough at most grad school functions, and then one night we fucked while in advanced states of intoxication. After that, the dude proceeded to be an aggressively snubbing asshole every time our paths crossed. When I asked him why he was being such a prick, he informed me that he's a "relationship guy" not mature enough to deal with a no-strings roll in the proverbial hay and that my very existence was something he no longer cared to acknowledge as a result. As I was (not surprisingly) drunk, I decided this would be a great opportunity to show him that nobody–not even some dumbass Michael Phelpsian science nerd in his early twenties with bad social skills and a whole host of personal issues–ignores me...by hurling the contents of a freshly refilled glass of Johnnie Walker all over his button-down. That event has since led to some extremely awkward occasional social run-ins, and a persistent sense of distaste for Michael Phelps ever since. In fact, when I was watching the Olympics at a party and another grad student pointed out the resemblance between this guy and Michael Phelps and followed that with, "So, what does Michael Phelps's dick look like?," I was so perturbed that I couldn't even mitigate my involuntary glowering while shouting "U! S! A! U! S! A!" to celebrate him winning another gold medal for our great country. Between Michael Phelps's media whoring and the consequences of my own personal whoring, I am through with this dude. Maybe in another four years I'll be ready to watch him prostitute himself for the sake of consumerism, but for now this butterface needs to get the fuck off my television.
Labels: capitalism, media whores, Olympics, retard rage, sex, sluts, sportsmen, you're ugly
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Once again, Cheese Sauce proves that his followers are the dumbest
I was reading the news today, and as usual it was all fucking bad. The economy is crumbling thanks to years and years of getting unapologetically sodomized by Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, who despite their friendly, folksy names sound like a couple of serious motherfucking bastards. I was just going to click over to the BBC to read about the collapse of the credit markets in Europe to add a little international flavor to my general feeling of dread and impending doom when I noticed a catchy title in a sidebar ad:
Wait...Time magazine's business writers have decided to blame GOD for the imminent Greater Depression about to swallow the entire civilized world? I can understand why people still solvent enough to enjoy luxuries like print magazines read The Economist these days instead of Time, because that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. It's not like God took a break from being omnipotent to moonlight as an unscrupulous broker at Countrywide. Rolling my eyes, I went to the article expecting to continue audibly scoffing at my laptop.
Instead of continuing to think about the author's stupidity, however, I was instead filled with annoyance and anger not at the author, but at those goddamned irritating evangelical Christians! Apparently, this bullshit is all their fault thanks to something called the "Prosperity gospel" that a bunch of them subscribe to. This is the notion that if you open your wallet to Christ so that your megachurch can buy a new IMAX screen for in-service laser shows praising Cheese-Sauce Crasst, you'll be rewarded by getting approved for a mortgage that you can't afford and will assuredly default on should the economy take a downturn–kind of like the precipitous faceplant it's doing now!
Granted, this policy isn't explicitly stated by most evangelical ministers. However, an expert interviewed for the article explained that this is spelled out in facile Jesus-flavored suggestions that even the most slow-witted Pentecostal Joe Sixpack can understand:
Granted, this policy isn't explicitly stated by most evangelical ministers. However, an expert interviewed for the article explained that this is spelled out in facile Jesus-flavored suggestions that even the most slow-witted Pentecostal Joe Sixpack can understand:
"The pastor's not gonna say, 'Go down to Wachovia and get a loan,' but I have heard, 'Even if you have a poor credit rating, God can still bless you — if you put some faith out there [that is, make a big donation to the church], you'll get that house or that car or that apartment.'"
The Catholic church was practicing the medieval equivalent of this back in the day, except instead of the faithful donating their cash for corrupt ministers to buy Mercedes to snort meth and bang underage boys in, the faithful donated their farthings for corrupt clergymen to maintain lavish residences for their mistresses and instead of being promised home ownership, they were promised a guaranteed spot in heaven. Eventually, even the feudal peasants (the Joe Sixpacks of their time) of the Middle Ages caught on that this was a bullshit scam, and hence Protestants exist at all. I'm just relieved that this time around the Catholics have nothing to do with all hell breaking loose. Luckily, we learned our lesson about the dangers of selling indulgences six centuries ago. Too bad these holy rolling heretics aren't up on their history, because if they had been maybe they wouldn't have tried to better their own financial situations via this Prosperity gospel bullshit and caused the global credit markets to fucking fail.
I am obviously a Christian being that I count myself among the O.G. Jesus worshipers. Since the most holy and apostolic JP Dos was running things over at the Holy See, I was encouraged that we'd finally gotten past doing globally destructive bullshit like starting centuries-long holy wars and torturing Jews, intellectuals, and anyone else who did things slightly differently. Unfortunately, it seems these evangelicals have picked up where we Catholics left off in the global shitshow department. All these evangelicals love to talk about how awesome the apocalypse is going to be, and how great it's going to be when Jesus returns. I wouldn't get too excited if I were them, because frankly, if I were Jesus, I'd be getting so sick of my followers perpetrating worldwide catastrophic disaster in my name that if I had to get off my ass and leave heaven because of it, I'd just wipe the troublesome losers off the map like John McCain wants to do with our nation's bad mortgages. So quit doing anything in Jesus's name except praying, because I don't want to get Armageddoned along with economically fucked thanks to the investment strategies of the fundamentalist devout.
Labels: assholes, capitalism, Catholicism, crazies, Dear God, ranting, retard rage, scathing indictments
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Blog Action Day 2008: Ending (Razzy's) poverty
Last night, I was logging in to the website that tracks my statistics for me, and for some reason decided to click over to their blog. Probably because while getting my internets Razzification on I was watching Monday Night Football, and listening to Tony Kornheiser hollering at Ron Jaworski half-assedly about a lengthy illustrated montage celebrating Gus Frerotte's storied career makes me mildly crazy. I was irritated to see that the people who run my free statistic-tracking service are a bunch of annoying e-do gooders participating in something called "Blog Action Day."
Not only does Blog Action Day sound like one of the least active forms of obnoxious ineffective philanthropy the bloggers of the internets could engage in, it sounds like a complete and total waste of time. Most of the blogs that will participate probably have even fewer readers than the five of you who come here for your daily dose of (so awesome it rocks your face off) useless bullshit, so it's not like they're going to bring a lot of attention to the problem of poverty.
While I deeply empathize with those suffering from its effects (as making less than $30,000 a year in New York City certainly allows me to count myself among the ranks of the destitute), there's a reason why the Blogosphere was not consulted when Congress had to bail out the highest priority group of the impoverished: Wall Street. Bloggers are all poor as fuck and they don't know shit about ending poverty! Even many of the successful ones hardly make any money from their websites. Pick a random blog author and ask how much they make with their online venture. They are doing exceptionally well if they can even pay their utility bills with their blogging profits. Certainly all these bloggers can draw attention to the issue just by writing their own life story, but if they knew the first thing about ending poverty, they wouldn't be fucking poor. The last thing these fools are going to do is somehow end poverty at the fucking FED by writing "poverty is just aweful and shud end NOW lol!" blog posts, thus stimulating the economy, increasing employment, and reducing the welfare rolls all around.
However, Blog Action Day can benefit at least one person in the financial department. It might not do much in terms of meaningful action to end poverty, but at least it creates a great opportunity for me. While all the other sources of useless bullshit across the internets are writing about how society can end the proliferation of beggarly types, I'll write about something totally different, like threesomes or Red Dawn or R. Kelly. Then when everyone is bored of reading banal post after banal post about poverty, they'll all come to RAZZY.org to read about whatever awesome alternative I feel like blabbing about, a few of them will click my useless "FIND SINGLE PEOPLE AGES 18-84 TO FUCK NOW!!!!!!!!" text ads, and I'll totally get a check for $10 instead of $5 for October. By NOT writing about poverty on October 15th, I'll be taking meaningful action to ameliorate poverty...my own poverty. Thank you for the opportunity to capitalize on everyone else's misguided and ineffective sense of altruism, Blog Action Day!
Labels: capitalism, down with OPB (other people's blogs), internet domination
Friday, September 26, 2008
My new goal: whatever I like
The other day, LL Cool Jew Gchatted me, fretting about the current economic situation. Don't let any stereotypes you may harbor about her religious extraction fool you; that bitch is about as interested in banking and economics as she is in particle physics, Harlequin romance novels, or doing home repairs, which is to say not at all. However, in this frightening financial climate, even those of us who are usually blissfully unaware of what goes on in the world of investments and equity and whatnot are forced to pay attention to the dire news coming from Wall Street. Since as a graduate student and a highly educated humanities grant specialist about to enter the job market, respectively, myself and LL Cool Jew are completely impotent as far as finding any kind of rational solace about how we might cope with the travails currently facing the world. Therefore, we occupy ourselves with the next best thing: discussion regarding diminutive rapper and self-proclaimed "King of the South" Clifford "T.I." Harris's current single "Whatever You Like," an ode to buying all sorts of luxurious shit for the chick he's banging, and rapper ternt sanga Faheem "T-Pain" Najm's current single "Can't Believe It," which is basically about the same thing except flavored with T-Pain's inexplicable desire for cold-weather real estate. Our employment prospects may be grim and our country may be headed for utter ruin and disaster, but at least we can fantasize about dating ballers with the means to make us say, "Economy? What economy?"
LL Cool Jew: stacks on deck
LL Cool Jew: patron on ice
Razzy: LOL
Razzy: (who drinks patron on ice?)
LL Cool Jew: dear t.i., i will tell you what i would like: to listen to this jam on repeat for the remainder of the hour. many thanks, llcj.
LL Cool Jew: TYXO!
Razzy: LOL
LL Cool Jew: i am really dumb but also, what are stacks on deck?
LL Cool Jew: i am so white
LL Cool Jew: TOTZ WHITE
Razzy: i'm assuming it means money that he's going to make
Razzy: future money
Razzy: projected income
LL Cool Jew: AAAAH
Razzy: let me check urban dictionary
LL Cool Jew: yes please
Razzy: oh oops
Razzy: it's soulja boy's record label!
Razzy: AKA "SOD Money Gang"
LL Cool Jew: really????
LL Cool Jew: that's dumb
Razzy: oh, also urban dictionary says it means "to have a lot of money" or "to have money when u need it. Never run out"
LL Cool Jew: You know them old sugar daddies...they be trickin', they tell them...
LL Cool Jew: see you were 100% right on!!
LL Cool Jew: "projected income"!
LL Cool Jew: dude
LL Cool Jew: when i listen to this song
LL Cool Jew: i realize how awesome it would be to be screwing a multimillionaire.
Razzy: well YEAH
Razzy: gas up the jet and you can go wherever you like
Razzy: if you date t.i.
LL Cool Jew: i wish someone would tell ME i won't never, never have to go in my wallet. :(
Razzy: get a mansion in wisconsin if you date t-pain
Razzy: i KNOW
Razzy: the last date i went on I PAID
LL Cool Jew: and i love the really insistent way he goes, MY CHICK GET WHATEVER SHE WANT!
Razzy: that was my choice
Razzy: i volunteered to pay because i like the guy and i'm all modern like thatRazzy: although like many of my speculative ventures, that investment turned out to be a bust
Razzy: but still, i only date poor or at best middle class people
LL Cool Jew: srsly
LL Cool Jew: no big boy ice for us.
Razzy: i have to be I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T
LL Cool Jew: LAME.
Razzy: i know, especially since i can't afford all the gucci that lil' boosie and webbie claim their independent women bestow on them
LL Cool Jew: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Razzy: at least there's still hope for me
Razzy: you're married to a journalist
LL Cool Jew: yeah but maybe one day i'll be the executive director of a rich-ass charitable foundation...
Razzy: well exax
LL Cool Jew: stacks on deck, patron on ice...
LL Cool Jew: (see, repeat)
Razzy: hahaha
LL Cool Jew: (TI is giving me what i like)
Razzy: will you really drink patron on ice?
Razzy: i guess i would if that's what ti wanted me to drink
LL Cool Jew: i mean i don't really fuck with tequila
Razzy: tequila on the rocks, no less
Razzy: why can't rappers be into scotch?!
LL Cool Jew: maybe if it were watered down
LL Cool Jew: i mean, if ti's buying, i'm trying
Razzy: i guess "dalmorangie on ice" doesn't quite have the same ring to it
LL Cool Jew: i could probably look right into his eyes in heels...
Razzy: lol
LL Cool Jew: he's so lil.
Razzy: that's why he's buying whatever you like
Razzy: he's overcompensating
LL Cool Jew: dude if t.i. gave me his black card he would so regret it
LL Cool Jew:i would destroy him
LL Cool Jew: he needs to put you up in a condo way up in toronto
Razzy: or a log cabin in aspen
LL Cool Jew: neither of those sound particularly attractive right???
LL Cool Jew: certainly not Wiscansin
LL Cool Jew: why is tpain so into cold weather if he's from Miami?Razzy: he's from tallahassee, actually, that's what the "t" stands for, but whatevs
Razzy: t-pain was hard up for places that rhymed with condo, cabin, and mansion
Razzy: and he wants what he doesn't know...it's all exotic
LL Cool Jew: hate to break it to you tpain, there is nothing exotical about wiscansin
LL Cool Jew: ooh, so what is a Marcialago or whatever?
LL Cool Jew: faincy car?
Razzy: i believe a murcielago is a type of lamborghini
Razzy: i am amazed that he can pronounce "murcielago" but not "wisconsin"
LL Cool Jew: the car is more expensive
Razzy: than a mansion in wisconsin? probably
LL Cool Jew: probably!!!!!
Razzy: i imagine real estate in america's dairyland is cheap
LL Cool Jew: esp. in those heinous suburban subdivisions
Razzy: do you think t-pain means a mcmansion?
LL Cool Jew: definitely
Razzy: or something like designed by frank lloyd wright
LL Cool Jew: i am pretty sure he doesn't care much for historic architecture
Razzy: probably not
LL Cool Jew: since those places rarely include revolving jasmine-scented hottubs
I think it's pretty much decided. I need to become some type of rap star, or at least start screwing one. This grad school bullshit isn't going to give me "whatever I like." I'm not sure what exactly that entails, but revolving jasmine-scented hot tubs sounds pretty good, as does "stacks on deck," any kind of premium liquor on ice, and a private jet at my disposal. And since the reality is that I'll probably be a Ph.D-educated bread line lingerer once our country's economy totally collapses, I might as well shoot for the stars and make "whatever I like" my new career ambition.
Labels: capitalism, correspondence, LL Cool Jew, overcompensation, rap, ridiculous absurdity
Friday, May 30, 2008
Rotten Apple
It's a good thing that Apple makes awesome laptops, because everything else Apple does sucks and completely enrages me. I've already discussed at length my ambivalence about Mac ownership because their "I'm a patronizing asshole Mac AKA a Vassar dropout with horrific taste in women as evidenced by the fact that I date Drew Barrymore, I'm a fat, ugly, inept, Bill Gates-looking PC" commercials piss me off.
Their musical sensibilities are even worse than their marketing concepts. I've taken issue with Apple's taste in music since that iPod commercial with U2 singing "Vertigo." Every time I'd see the illustrious Appled-out silhoutte Bono with his stupid sunglasses going "Hello, hello..." and the Edge or whoever crying "Hola!," my blood pressure would rocket right into cerebrovascular aneurysm territory. Apple has continued to swing and miss with every musical selection since then. There's the annoying "1-2-3-4" by Feist that was constantly on polluting my football games with its inane kindergarten math and rhyming schemes. There's that "I'm a new soul, something something in this strange world, something something that is real and isn't fake" song touting the MacBook Air which I thought was also a shitegg laid by Feist, but it turns out it's actually her introspective female singer/songwriter doppelganger. Then, to truly convince me that Apple's taste in music is sufficiently infuriating to put me in the coronary care unit, Steve Jobs hired the king of all douchebags, John Mayer, to play at Macworld on not one but TWO separate occasions. Hiring John Mayer once to show up and deliver inane failed attempts at wit like saying that Garage Band and other Apple innovations are "like the opposite of terrorism" prior to launching into a live rendition of "Your Body is a Wonderland" is bad enough. To like his pussified music so much that you commission a repeat performance is completely inexcusable. It just goes to show that Steve Jobs is capable of doing two things successfully: making excellent consumer electronics and embarrassing everyone who owns one thanks to his brand marketing via relentless douchebaggery.
Well, John Mayer apparently jumped off the Apple train to hawk BlackBerries (which, consequently, I now hate), so now Steve Jobs and the idiots in his marketing department have retained the services of yet another shiteous band fronted by yet another of the world's top 10 most unfuckable so-called "rock stars." iTunes users, behold...your music software is now inextricably linked to the testicle-shriveling falsetto renderings of Chris Martin and Coldplay.
This was only natural, considering Chris Martin not only seems like the guy who runs around saying snobby shit about OS X and its supposed awesome power when he's not perfecting his dreamy interpretive dance-flavored performance routine, he actually named his firstborn "Apple." I bet he jumped at the prospect of succeeding John Mayer as the pretentious face of the iPod marketing whore.
Before all the Coldplay apologists (like the vehement John Mayer apologists who love sending me e-mails and writing comments implying that I know nothing about music because I don't like John Mayer's watered-down sensitive-boy take on the blues) start getting their passive-aggressive condescending on, let me just ask WHY people actually like this trash? Is it because Chris Martin looks like a hipster cross between Dr. Gregory House and Luke Perry on some sort of gay intergalactic beach with smoke machines and some people think that's actually cool? Or is it because the lyrics to Coldplay songs about street-sweeping (and not in the spraying-bullets-from-a-TEC 9 context T.I. often uses, but in the employing-ham-handed-broom-related-metaphors context) are so fucking profound? Or is it because the band writes beautiful melodies that all sound the same? I'd actually really like to know, and there must be a lot of people out there who can tell me, since this "Vida La Vida" crap is the number one single on iTunes right now (rather than what it should be, namely "Hair Braider" by a certain Robert Sylvester Kelly). Amazingly, some people are not filled with murderous rage every time Mr. Gwyneth Paltrow starts caterwauling about his feelings, and even enjoy it. I'd like to know why, because like every other celebrity spokesho that Apple has ever selected, hearing Chris Martin sing makes me want to stop using iTunes out of sheer spite.
Please, someone, explain this to me. Apple keeps selling their shit despite these commercials, so they must be doing something right. Either their sales continue because they make products so good that people are capable of ignoring their intolerable advertisements, or people actually like Coldplay and other assorted similar fucktards. I like to think it's the former, but I'd probably be wrong. So let's go, Coldplay-loving Apple snobs. Get on the comment board and tell me that I know nothing about their dick-tucking brilliance!
Labels: capitalism, celebrities, John Mayer sucks, media whores, retard rage, scathing indictments
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Jesus would approve
My friend, Razzyphile, and fellow blogger Gayman e-mailed me the other day asking if I'd ever heard of the website bigchurch.com. I had not, because--and I know you will all be filled with disbelief at this revelation--I'm not trying to score honeys on the fundamentalist Christian dating circuit.
Hard as it may be to believe, I did not meet the mystery guy I like on bigchurch.com. It would be amazing if I had, since he's not even Christian. Furthermore, I suspect that bigchurch.com's members don't "share the same spiritual beliefs" as myself, unless it's opposite day and their spiritual beliefs include a deep devotion to alcohol consumption, hitting it with girls on the side, and daily masturbation. "Christian" sounds to me like "not Catholic" and especially "not a bad, sinful, depraved ex-Catholic schoolgirl bisexual slut machine a la yours truly." I'm not trying to meet a cheesy Richard Marx-meets-Jason Priestley type such as the Bible boy above, and even if I were, I'd probably go try to find him at an actual church rather than bigchurch.com.
Gayman did not, however, send me this link in the hopes that my prayers of finding a respectable man would be answered. Rather, he did a bit of research into bigchurch.org, and discovered that it's owned by an unlikely media empire:
I wonder how all those devout Christians on bigchurch.com would feel knowing that their dating website is owned by one of the world's most infamous porn empires. I'm pretty sure that even if the folks seeking pious future spouses on bigchurch.com don't approve of or consider Penthouse's content congruous with their spiritual beliefs, Jesus would be down. He was always partying with hookers, tax collectors, lepers, and the other sinful freaks of greater Galilee and Judea, so I imagine he'd be just fine with pornographers diversifying their brands to grab some market share in the world of online Christian dating. Okay, maybe it's not exactly what Jesus would do himself, but I bet he's cool with it.
I wonder how all those devout Christians on bigchurch.com would feel knowing that their dating website is owned by one of the world's most infamous porn empires. I'm pretty sure that even if the folks seeking pious future spouses on bigchurch.com don't approve of or consider Penthouse's content congruous with their spiritual beliefs, Jesus would be down. He was always partying with hookers, tax collectors, lepers, and the other sinful freaks of greater Galilee and Judea, so I imagine he'd be just fine with pornographers diversifying their brands to grab some market share in the world of online Christian dating. Okay, maybe it's not exactly what Jesus would do himself, but I bet he's cool with it.
And since my Aunt Jesus is in the market for a sanctimonious scripture-spouting boyfriend, maybe I should pass along the link to bigchurch.com to her. Then at her wedding reception, I'll give a totally inappropriate impromptu speech thanking Penthouse AND God for bringing them together. Man, that would be so awesome.
Labels: Aunt Jesus, capitalism, correspondence, Dear God, internet domination, porn, Razzyphiles
Friday, May 02, 2008
Free Made cheaply in China Tibet
There are a couple commenters who get all pissed every time I criticize the dumb "Free Tibet" protestors. A while ago, I complained that "Free Tibet" protestors were stupid for disrupting the Olympic torch since it was an annoying form of protest rather than an effective or meaningful one. These protestors validated their stupidity holding historically inaccurate signs asserting that Nazi Germany never got to host the Olympics. Apparently for all their knowledge of great strides in human civil rights, these dumbasses never heard of Jesse Owens sticking it to Hitler with an assload of gold medals (and by the way...U!S!A! U!S!A!).
Well, these posts earned a bunch of crybaby bitching about how China has a horrible human rights record and for some reason my not worshiping the protestors renders me a hypocrite and blah blah blah. Finally, some sensible anonymous commenter suggested that if the anonymous Free Tibet people blowing up my comment boards really wanted to give China the proverbial finger, maybe they could stop consuming Chinese products like they're going out of style. The Free Tibet commenter hotly replied, "How do you know what products are in my house?"
Thanks to the intrepid reporters at the BBC, now we know at least one product in this self-righteous faceless activist's house that's made in China: his/her Free Tibet flag.
Apparently, most of the Free Tibet flags being waved hysterically by all the activists trying to put out the Olympic torch are MADE IN FUCKING CHINA! Then again, I wouldn't expect people who learned the basics regarding their political cause from the Beastie Boys (who, prior to fighting for human rights in Tibet were doing so on behalf of their right to party) and Richard "Gerbil Ass" Gere to conclude that buying Chinese goods--even contraband "Free Tibet" flags--might help the Chinese government more than it hurts it. Foreigners buying any types of Chinese goods just bolsters the Chinese economy, thus allowing their government to tighten its stranglehold on our short-and-curlies in terms of the massive debt the U.S. has incurred with them.
Of course, because the Chinese police raided the "Free Tibet" flag factory and shut it down, assuredly all the anonymous Free Tibet morons are going to point out that this is yet another example of egregious human rights violations on behalf of the commies running the country. I never said China's government kicked ass, and I'd certainly prefer if they didn't do things like shut down contraband flag factories, imprison dissidents, or harvest organs from prisoners. However, if you're so fucking bothered about it that you plan to disrupt traffic, protest a competition that serves to foster international cooperation and unity, and generally get in everyone's way, make sure your fucking protest gear is human rights violations-free, you hypocritical losers.
Labels: capitalism, fuck Tibet, international intrigue, Olympics, retard rage, scathing indictments
Monday, March 31, 2008
Daily Douchebag: Ashton Kutcher's COOLPIX ad
DOB: March 25, 2008 (first air date)
Occupation: making me want to buy any camera BESIDES a Nikon COOLPIX Style Series
Hometown: probably the Kabbalah Center of Los Angeles (although I don't see a dumb red string around Ashton's wrist...maybe they Photoshopped it out?)
Current residence: my TV during episodes of "Rock of Love 2"
Douchebaggery: Nikon COOLPIX Style Series' recent ad campaign has managed to go where very few ad campaigns have before. Upon my first viewing of one of these ads, I immediately placed it in the elite class of commercials as those featuring Peyton Manning hawking MasterCards, the UPS Whiteboard Guy, and every campaign Old Navy has ever produced. This designation is reserved for the upper echelon of commercials that go beyond annoying to actually induce feelings of property-destroying rage. Yesterday I threw my remote control against the couch in disgust upon seeing this, and vowed never to buy any Nikon products ever, EVER again.
If you haven't seen this, Nikon is kind enough to provide a press release about this marketing campaign:
Taking place in trendy locales such as boutique hotels and upscale shopping destinations, the campaign highlights the exquisite styling, fashionable colors, simplicity and great performance of Nikon's Style series compact digital cameras....The television campaign spots, directed by Emmy award winner Brian Buckley, have Kutcher’s COOLPIX camera being discretely taken and passed around by numerous adoring fans who take several pictures with it before slipping it back into Ashton’s pocket. Ashton then notices some surprising pictures when he reviews the photos on his camera's LCD screen.Now, I'll distill out that PR product-branding crap and tell you about how this commercial really goes down. Ashton Kutcher is holding court at "the Chateau" (presumably Marmont) when he gets a call on his Blackberry. He leaves his man-purse unattended with his Nikon COOLPIX Style Series poking tantalizingly out of the side pocket for a trio of giggling skanks to ogle while he takes his call. As he's on the phone, the bitches immediately grab the camera and start taking pictures of themselves making stupid faces and laughing hysterically. They're so busy guffawing at their own silliness that you can't really hear them say "Oh, isn't Ashton Kutcher going to be surprised when he goes through his COOLPIX deleting pictures of Rumer Willis's chin and finds these *hilarious* pictures of us sticking our tongues out, making fish faces, and cracking up!" between high-pitched bursts of chortling, but you can easily imagine it. However, the joke's on them, because this is Ashton Kutcher, professional Hollywood prankster, and apparently you can't ever assume that getting punk'd isn't an option when he's around. Ashton is on the phone briefing an unknown accomplice that his quarry has taken the bait and Mission: Get Starfucking Social Climbers at the Chateau to Make Stupid Faces for my COOLPIX Camera is in full effect. "No! They don't know I know they're doing it," he reassures his co-conspirator that his identity as the instigator of this hilarious stunt remains concealed. Yes, there is layer upon layer of dramatic irony in this ad. Ashton then returns to collect his satchel just as the girls have replaced the camera and leave. On the way out he high-fives the valet to celebrate yet another successful caper and reassures him, "I'll send you copies." Then Ashton checks out the pictures. "OHHHH!" he shouts in a pathetic imitation of Andrew Dice Clay, apparently blown away by the scandalous hilarity of a girl taking cross-eyed self-portraits. Viewers are then advised to purchase a COOLPIX Style Series camera.
I'd like to know WHY exactly this should make me want to buy a COOLPIX camera. Because I'm an easily amused, purse-toting, metrosexual loser who gets off staging elaborate deceptive traps to obtain silly G-rated pictures of probable reality show rejects before I go home to bang Demi Moore(-ticia Adams)? NO! I don't want a camera that can be used to pull off pointless and completely annoying pranks. If Ashton really wanted to sell me a camera, he should quit acting cute, get wasted, and prove that the COOLPIX Style Series is durable enough to withstand being stepped on, dropped accidentally out of purse or pocket onto a sidewalk, run over by a cab, operated effectively while in the reverse piledriver position, or submerged in scotch or Heineken. Ashton Kutcher needs to go back to the celebrity oblivion he was dwelling in and stop ruining my consumer appetite for digital cameras.
I tried to find a video of this ad, but apparently everyone on the YouTubes has had better things to do than irritate the internets by posting this trash for public viewing. I did, however, find another ad from this campaign (the promised "upscale shopping destinations" version). It's equally aggravating, so if you need that extra something to go from really, really, REALLY pissed off to Michael Douglas-in-Falling Down-pissed off, feel free to torture yourself by clicking here. If you too survive that hellish experience, I think you'll agree that a boycott of all Nikon products is warranted on the basis of their commercials being so maddeningly awful. These commercials are so likely to inspire violent fury that they are a menace to public safety! Get them off the air. Just say no to Nikon!
Labels: assholes, capitalism, celebrities, Daily Douchebag, intentional buffoonery, media whores, retard rage, TV
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Nick Manning
Aliases: Rick Manning, Dand Lee Strickland
DOB: May 28, 1967
Occupation: Per his website, "worldclass athlete, runway & print model, mainstream actor, porn star." He's also a would-be ringtone tycoon and entrepreneur extraordinaire
Hometown: Chicago, Illinois
Current residence: Porn Valley, Los Angeles, California
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Nick Manning is the star of such memorable films as Chronicles of a Pervert, Sick Girls Need Sick Boys, and Bum Plumbers. His trademark is apparently shouting "dropping loads" during the money shot of the film. I don't know if I've ever seen him performing because I tend to tune out unremarkable male porn stars, and frankly, the heads of their penises are more commonly shown in porn than the heads on their shoulders. I'm pretty sure that I would have remembered a guy who shouted, "droppin' loads all over your face...all over the fuckin' room! Eat it up! Manning mayonnaise." (GROSS!) I did see Island Fever which he supposedly was in, but I don't remember this dude shouting about the loads he was droppin' all over Tera Patrick.
I guess Nick Manning's been watching Donny Deutsch, because he seems intent upon improving recognition and expanding his brand. He's gotten into directing and producing cinematic classics like Squirting Showers and Pretty Little Cum Catchers as well as starring in them. He's gotten into merchandising, and sells unappealingly named sex toys such as Nick Manning's Masturstroke Kit and Nick Manning's Body Slam Masturbator. Finally, he's trying to carve out his own niche the lucrative ringtone business.
A Nick Manning fan might wander over to his website and realize that for a paltry $4.99, they too could have a phone that heralds incoming calls or text messages with "droppin' loads all over your cellphone!" I somehow restrained myself from purchasing one of Nick Manning's signature ringtones, if only because I still haven't yet gotten tired of arriving calls announced via a sultry declaration that "it's Britney, bitch!" Also, it's got to be pretty embarrassing to be associated with a phone that interrupts a meeting with a crude ejaculation reference. However, I must commend Nick for going beyond a somewhat creepy, beat-down cut rate Lorenzo Lamas wannabe who gets paid $50 per dropped load. He's clearly taken the master's degree in "human relations" he claims to have from Loyola University and put it to good use. I expect Nick Manning to get the AVN Jenna Jameson Crossover Award for his business acumen, because he's droppin' loads all over the ringtone game. Nick Manning's media empire is going to be a corporate force to reckon with any time now.
Labels: capitalism, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, porn, ridiculous absurdity, sluts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Adnan Ghalib
DOB: 1972
Occupation: gold digger, paparazzo
Hometown: England?
Current residence: Malibu, California or whatever hotel the legendary Ms. Britney Spears has checked into tonight
Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Adnan is living the American dream. After toiling for months as a paparazzo for the FinalPixx agency, he managed to really snare his quarry: Britney Spears. Brit-Brit took a shine to Adnan's (slightly gay) swarthy hotness and suddenly the hunter has become the hunted. Adnan can now usually be seen trying to avoid his former colleagues with Britney as they do the usual white trash publicity circuit: Chevron stations, Starbucks, and various Los Angeles-area parking lots. To show her devotion to her new man, Britney has even adopted a faux British accent, taken Adnan Mercedes shopping, and supposedly bought a pregnancy test on her and Adnan's last romantic date at a 24 hour Rite Aid store. Even better for Adnan, rumor has it that Britney wants to convert to Islam so that she and Adnan can get married, because undoubtedly Adnan is devout in his faith and only will marry a good Muslim girl. One of my friends recently sent me an e-mail commenting on Adnan's reversal of life roles, and I must say that I agree with his sentiments on the subject:
I really admire the paparazzi guy that's banging Britney Spears. More people should be talking about him -- turning from one of the people with a camera shooting Britney Spears to being shot with Britney Spears. Only in America.True that. I replied that Britney should marry him only to have her last name be "Ghraib" which I mistakenly thought was Adnan's last name until this morning when I was researching him for this post. I wish it was, because if Brit-Brit married him then her name would invoke pleasant memories of things like human rights violations and wartime prison torture by barely literate white trash. Actually, Britney isn't too far removed from PFC Lynndie England. I wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be country cousins. It's not a stretch to imagine Britney getting up to some Geneva Convention-violating sexual humiliation:
Anyway, Adnan is making the greatest business decision of his life by sticking his dick into that nest of fake hair and french fry grease, because you know Britney's not in any kind of pre-nup signing mood. She hates legal proceedings if her custody hearings are any indication, so chances are, as soon as his divorce is finalized and he makes an honest woman out of Britney, he'll be entitled to 50%. He's just got to tough it out for a little while longer, and he's got it made. Of course, by the time Britney's done buying Slim Jims, Marb Lights, and Frappuccinos, that might be only a couple hundred grand, but still. He'll probably get a book deal and will be able to afford many more effeminate faux Pashmina scarves to keep his swarthy neck warm during late-night drug store runs. Adnan should go on Donny Deutsch's show and tell us all his brilliant entrepreneurial secrets, because his business acumen is beyond reproach.
I'd hit that, after Adnan breaks Britney's heart, cashes out, and completes his regimen of antibiotics and delousing agents. He's a hot piece.
Labels: Britney Spears, capitalism, celebrities, Daily Dude I Want to Hit, hot dudes, PWT
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Daily Douchebag: Google
DOB: September 7, 1998
Occupation: ruling the internet with an iron fist, and in a cheating, tyrannical, not-good way
Hometown: Mountain View, California
Current residence: the toolbar on your browser and epidemic on the internets
Douchebaggery: You hear a lot of song and dance about how great Google is. Their employees enjoy working in an idyllic paradise where they get to play Galaga and take naps and dick around doing nothing all day, their search technology is so much better than Yahoo!'s or whoever's, and their corporate image is generally cute and quirky, like a likable nerd. Everyone loves Gmail, and the maps and satellite pages, and all their widgets or whatever, and they've basically taken over the internets as a result. I certainly can't complain about this:
However, Google considering my site to be the ultimate source for all things Razzy over the Razzie awards, random cell phone accessory stores, and some bar in Assachusetts is probably about the only thing I like about them (besides their "Talk" gadget, which occupies hours of mine and LL Cool Jew's days). They've been on my shit list ever since I received this e-mail:
To: Razzy (razzy@razzy.org)I removed their ad codes from my offending review of Ice-T's Pimpin' 101: The XXX Guide to Working a Ho, because I was making SO much money showing text ads for Lil' Kim ringtones, Canadian erectile dysfunction drugs, and directories of New York metropolitan-area shrinks, and I wanted to keep their bullshit ads on my site. Actually, I just didn't want to end up on Google's shit list, since they can singlehandedly rule my internet prowess, sending me into search oblivion if they felt so inclined. I e-mailed them to inform them that I had removed the ad code from the review they didn't like, and requested that they re-enable ad serving. I checked their policy, and figured I could at least open negotiations about which site content in particular violates this somewhat vaguely worded policy:
From: Adsense Support (adsense-support@google.com)
Subject: Google Adsense
Hello,
While reviewing your account, we noticed that you are currently displaying Google ads in a manner that is not compliant with our policies. For instance, we found violations of AdSense policies on pages such as http://www.razzy.org/RazzyFiles/pimpin101.html.
As stated in our program policies, AdSense publishers are not permitted to place Google ads on pages with adult or mature content.
As a result, we have disabled ad serving to the site.
Your AdSense account remains active. However, we strongly suggest that you take the time to review our program policies (https://www.google.com/adsense/policies ) to ensure that all of your remaining pages are in compliance.
Please note that we may disable your account if further violations are found in the future.
Sincerely,
The Google AdSense Team
Sites displaying Google ads may not include:Okay, so virtually EVERY page of my site violates the whole "no excessive profanity" and "no promoting beer or hard alcohol" rule, and I guess there's also enough pictures of random penises and my boobs to warrant a violation of the clause forbidding "pornography, adult, or mature content," but I'm certainly not selling designer good knockoffs or illegal weapons! It's not like people come to site looking to buy ninja stars or tax-free cigarettes or term papers about The Sound and the Fury. And they're certainly not following that "sales of prescription drugs" thing themselves since half the Google ads on my site linked to overseas pharmacies hawking illegal Viagra and Ambien. Still, I got no response to my e-mail, in spite of the polite and professional "I look forward to your reply" I closed my letter with. Not a "no, your site is still in violation of our policy, you filthy whore" or even a form letter advising me that I was persona non grata at the AdSense department due to my despicable website content. I said, "Well, fuck you, Google, I don't need you or your fascist site content policies, either!" and moved to AdBrite, who don't give a flying fuck about my content and whose ads make me a tidy $10 per month. However, now I'm even more incensed because instead of writing me back to tell me why I don't meet the lofty moral standards of their advertising policy, apparently they were busy SWINDLING INNOCENT INTERNET USERS!
* Violent content, racial intolerance, or advocacy against any individual, group, or organization
* Pornography, adult, or mature content
* Hacking/cracking content
* Illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia
* Excessive profanity
* Gambling or casino-related content
* Content regarding programs which compensate users for clicking on ads or offers, performing searches, surfing websites, or reading emails
* Excessive, repetitive, or irrelevant keywords in the content or code of web pages
* Deceptive or manipulative content or construction to improve your site's search engine ranking, e.g., your site's PageRank
* Sales or promotion of weapons or ammunition (e.g., firearms, fighting knives, stun guns)
* Sales or promotion of beer or hard alcohol
* Sales or promotion of tobacco or tobacco-related products
* Sales or promotion of prescription drugs
* Sales or promotion of products that are replicas or imitations of designer goods
* Sales or distribution of term papers or student essays
* Any other content that is illegal, promotes illegal activity, or infringes on the legal rights of others
According to an investigation of FTC complaints by the San Francisco Chronicle, Google offered a $10 credit as incentive to sign up for its version of PayPal, a service called Checkout. However, being a bunch of assholes with no concept of customer service and a general fuck-you-we're-Google attitude, they never planned to pony up the $10. As expected, e-mails and queries to Google support staff went ignored and unanswered. I guess I should consider myself lucky, because people also complained that Google AdSense would confiscate their earnings arbitrarily for unsubstantiated policy violations, for no other reason than that Google is populated by unscrupulous, greedy tyrants who apparently regard the entire internet as their personal fiefdom. Google sucks, and I'm going straight to the FTC to throw in my two cents about just how much. That'll learn 'em. I'll be back displaying worthless AdSense text links in no time.
Labels: capitalism, Daily Douchebag, internet domination, Razzification, tyrannical rulers
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Daily Douchebag: Sean Combs
Aliases: Puff Daddy, Puffy, P. Diddy, Diddy
DOB: November 4, 1969
Occupation: media mogul, fashion magnate, perfume slanger, restauranteur, annoying pain in the ass
Hometown: Mount Vernon, New York
Current residence: New York, New York and the Hamptons
Douchebaggery: Although his music isn't really my favorite, I normally wouldn't have any problem with Diddy. I respect his business acumen and applaud him for taking nothing but the ability to sample classic songs, the distinctive manner in which he says "uh-uh," and his urban metrosexual taste in clothes and turned it into a multimillion dollar empire. I also very much enjoyed watching "Making the Band 2" (or was it 3? --the one with Chopper and Dylan) because Diddy was fucking hilarious. I loved when he made their whiny asses trek all the way to Junior's cheesecake in Brooklyn from the West Village on foot, and I loved when he would start yelling at them for being a bunch of lazy ingrates with no work ethic and no talent. "I would like to take a nap, have sex, and eat a turkey sandwich but I can't because I HAVE WORK TO DO!" shouted Diddy when Chopper was acting up and disrupting productivity in the studio. All that was in vain, because Diddy eventually decided Da Band was a lost cause and cast his lots with Danity Kane's show-stopping instead. All this was good to me, and I have never really openly despised Diddy until now.
So what has he done to provoke my ire, you ask? Putting these dumb ads all over the goddamn city:
Labels: capitalism, Daily Douchebag, NYC, rap
Friday, September 07, 2007
Curtis will eat Kanye's children
This is the cover of the new Rolling Stone, and I think it's pretty obvious that this isn't even a contest:
This is like watching Mike Tyson do a pre-show press posturing contest with some well-manicured prep school douche with a practiced condescending sneer and an unprecedented case of Jesus envy: you know Tyson would say something effeminate and confusing, skinny boy would unwisely try to intimidate Tyson with some overdone intellectual posturing, and Tyson would thump his chest and just stab him, bludgeon him, poke his eye out, bite his nuts off, or otherwise deal him some seriously grievous hurting.
Okay, in fairness, the other day my buddy was listening to a new Kanye West song that I kind of liked. I heard it, and I was like, "I know this is Kanye...I know this is Kanye...but it's kind of catchy. I like the beat. I can just ignore his preachy, pompous prattle."
"Is this Kanye West?" I asked my friend Neo.
"Yes," she said.
ARRGH! I winced, knowing that it goes against everything I stand for to like Kanye West. I then calmed myself with the knowledge that even though I might like ONE Kanye West song here and there (I liked that "Slow Jamz" song too, if only because of the part where Twista says "let me get you wet listening to Keith Sweat"), my boyfriend Fitty will still destroy Kanye in this contest that Kanye supposedly didn't even want to participate in. SHA RIGHT...this whole thing was a big publicity stunt that was probably Kanye's idea in the first place. That bitch is so in love with himself he had to come up with something clever to bring his album sales up to match his ego. 50 Cent is getting rich, but Kanye is apparently dying trying, so naturally he'd need a clever ploy to piggyback on 50's album sales. Now, as a result, they did a big photo shoot together for Rolling Stone to promote the albums that will be going head to head in a sales contest when they drop on 9/11.
Based on menacing eyebrow-based scowling tactics alone, 50 is taking this one all the way. Besides, Kanye may have one song that's enjoyable if you ignore Kanye's bloviating lyrical flow, but Fitty has songs on his new album where he brags about how he's "got more whips than a runaway slave" and where he pitches his new vibrator line in terms of an anecdotal tale of his erotic carny magic tricks ("now watch me pull a rabbit out of a hat, then you can use the rabbit all over your cat"). Curtis is taking Kanye's pretty ass down.
Okay, in fairness, the other day my buddy was listening to a new Kanye West song that I kind of liked. I heard it, and I was like, "I know this is Kanye...I know this is Kanye...but it's kind of catchy. I like the beat. I can just ignore his preachy, pompous prattle."
"Is this Kanye West?" I asked my friend Neo.
"Yes," she said.
ARRGH! I winced, knowing that it goes against everything I stand for to like Kanye West. I then calmed myself with the knowledge that even though I might like ONE Kanye West song here and there (I liked that "Slow Jamz" song too, if only because of the part where Twista says "let me get you wet listening to Keith Sweat"), my boyfriend Fitty will still destroy Kanye in this contest that Kanye supposedly didn't even want to participate in. SHA RIGHT...this whole thing was a big publicity stunt that was probably Kanye's idea in the first place. That bitch is so in love with himself he had to come up with something clever to bring his album sales up to match his ego. 50 Cent is getting rich, but Kanye is apparently dying trying, so naturally he'd need a clever ploy to piggyback on 50's album sales. Now, as a result, they did a big photo shoot together for Rolling Stone to promote the albums that will be going head to head in a sales contest when they drop on 9/11.
Labels: 50 cent, assholes, capitalism, hot dudes, rap