Friday, September 11, 2009

 

Here's your 9/11 present

Okay, first off, I'm not even going to make excuses for being so absent and causing you all to feel such great pain and abandonment. I've somehow managed to acquire one these–ahem–boyfriends, and I've been busy getting laid constantly. Oh, and working a lot too. So I apologize, as I know the Razzyphiles have suffered great neglect and most of you were probably contemplating going the Sylvia Plath route. My bad, dudes.

Anyway, I am going to be better about blogging more regularly and I thought there's no better way to do so than by wishing you all a very merry 9/11. And apparently the terror squad (the muhajadeen catchers, not Fat Joe's rap cartel) decided to give us a present this year! They managed to nab the Taliban's PR guy, Muslim Khan, thus striking a terrible blow against the terrorists' ability to deliver do-it-yourself crazy anti-Western manifestos.

I can see why the loss of Muslim Khan is probably devastating to the Taliban's whole program, since he's done such a capital job of promoting them in the international press. I mean, what if people actually stop thinking that they are murderous, misogynistic terrorists with large teacup collections? Image management skills like Muslim Khan's are hard to come by, especially when you're wandering around Pakistan in some rattletrap convoy of assault rifles and RPGs, tea services, and Arabian night-style tents trying to find some permanent stronghold like a big troupe of militant jihadist Joads. So have fun looking like a bunch of total assholes on Al-Jazeera, stupid dumb Taliban guys! USA! U! S! A!

Labels: , , , ,


Tuesday, July 28, 2009

 

Screw U2, says Dublin. I heart Dublin, says me

I laughed scornfully today when I read an article about how U2's tour promoters were crying about being behind schedule on their European tour because their very own countrymen were fed up with their bullshit. Specifically, they were pissed that after three shows at Ireland's largest stadium, local residents were treated to some around-the-clock raucous related to dismantling their elaborate stage set-up. Therefore they decided to protest, and as a result, the "more than 50 trucks carrying much of the band's 390-ton stage, TV screens, lighting, and sound equipment missed their intended morning ferry." Consequently, the tour manager has noted, "It affects the tour schedule."

Oh, NO!!!! Now the rest of Europe might have to wait a day or two before they can plunk down their $250 to watch a gigantic Blackberry ad. Maybe Bono can do something about this. After all, he is singlehandedly solving Africa's poverty, political upheaval, and AIDS crises. However, when reached for comment after just stepping down from his private jet in Nice, France, Africa's savior sent his PR flunky out to throw down some bullshit about how the band feels "pure disappointment. It's just really put a damp squib (that is Irish for sponge, not a person with non-magical abilities born to wizarding stock) on something that was a fantastic experience and a fantastic show." He forgot to add, "It's treasonous for anyone of Irish heritage to disrupt, piss off, disappoint, mock, disparage, or otherwise speak in non-reverent tones about U2, and these freedom haters will be summarily labeled enemy combatants and sent to the Irish equivalent of Gitmo. Well, if such a thing existed anyway."

Clearly Bono, The Edge, and whatever other stupidly-named Irishmen are in U2 are devastated. However, Bono is mostly likely taking life's lemons and using them to make lemonade for those legions of starving, AIDS-ridden Africans he likes to lecture everyone about. Or maybe just being so incredibly disappointed that he can barely enjoy any of the earthly delights the French riviera has to offer. This is clearly what an extremely depressed megalomaniac with delusions of messianic grandeur looks like:

Poor Bono. I guess he'll have to drown his sorrows in a combination of sanctimonious lectures about the excesses of the developed world and some random Katy Perry-meets-Zoey Deschanel cooze. I mean, Bono knows hard times, and nothing is harder than depriving continental Europe of halfassed, corporate-retooled performances of "With or Without You" and "One." Oh, the humanity!

In other news, I still totally hate the shit out of U2. The protestors in Dublin get a Razzy Medal of Service to Humanity for disrupting the well-greased wheels of dickbaggery. Well played, Croke Park neighborhood coalitions.

Labels: , , , ,


Tuesday, June 23, 2009

 

Washington state ride or die

Those of you who are not addicted to the gossip internets may not be familiar with Katie Price, a sophisticated English lady who became famous posing topless for London's version of the New York Post.  She got so famous showing her tits–sorry, I mean glamour modeling–that she decided to get a new set of modest F cups installed.  Then she banged out a bunch of British footballers, starred in approximately 50 British reality shows, and married some boy bander named Peter Andre.

After spitting out some kids with Peter, things went south for the happy couple, and they split up. She has clearly tried to handle her public divorce with all the care and consideration of any celebrity mother of three concerned about making it as easy as possible on her children: by dumping the kids with her ex and heading to Ibiza to slut it up with her new (gay) boy toy.


I'd normally have approximately ZERO interest in this story if it weren't for the shirt her main homo is wearing.  I could be mistaken due to the deep cleavage-baring scoop neck on that shirt, but I do believe it says "Washington State Riders."  

I have been to Ibiza and I live in Washington state, and you frankly could not have two more incongruous places.   I have no idea why this shirt was being peddled in Europe, much less represents something fashionable for Katie Price/Jordan's rebound queen to rock around Ibiza's many soap bubble clubs.  This reminds me of the time I was in Belize and some local who had clearly never been off Ambergris Cay to mainland Belize, much less western Massachusetts, rode by on a beat up old Schwinn wearing a Smith College Biology shirt.   Somehow I don't have a Smith College Biology shirt, and I graduated from Smith College with a fucking degree in biology, but a dude living in a corrugated metal shanty on an island off the coast of Belize with no paved roads and sporadic running water somehow managed to rock this fashion.

And I'm not even sure what the "Washington State Riders" are, but I'm equally indignant that somehow this shirt is hot in España but not in Washington state.  I Googled "Washington State Riders" and found a bunch of stuff about motorcycles, although no group named exactly that.  However, I could be wrong, but it looks like there's a horse on that lemon meringue pie of a top he's wearing.  How do eurotrash fame whores know about some "riding" club in my home state that neither I or the internets are privy to?  

Or maybe, squinting at it a little more, that's actually a picture of a rooster on his shirt.  If that's the case, that makes a little more sense.  I can understand why the Washington State (Cock) Riders club doesn't have much of an internet presence, being that we're a more discreet bunch of sluts (ha).  I certainly believe that should Katie Price/Jordan's man get a model/acting gig in Seattle, he'll likewise join this club with a quickness.

Labels: , , , ,


Thursday, March 05, 2009

 

Some (un)cut

I've been skanking it up hard with the fellas since July 26th, 1995, and in that time I've gotten a lot of random dick under my belt, so to speak.  Although she used to be more of a relationship-type lady, my friend JerseyGirl has since caught up with me with a great deal of gusto.  In the course of her recent adventures, JerseyGirl managed to stumble across a phenomenon that you don't often encounter with native-born American fellas:
JerseyGirl: met this brit at brunch
Razzy: uh huh...
JerseyGirl: went back to my place
JerseyGirl: and did it
JerseyGirl: like 5x
Razzy: LOL
JerseyGirl: it was NUTS
JerseyGirl: BUT razzy
JerseyGirl: i was bugging
JerseyGirl: bc when he got naked
Razzy: let me guess...not circumcised
JerseyGirl: it was UNCIRCUMSIZED!!!
JerseyGirl: i was DYING
JerseyGirl: i was like "ewe"
JerseyGirl: he goes that's not very nice to say
JerseyGirl: i'm like sorry but it looks gross
Razzy: dude euros are always uncircumcised unless they're jewish
Razzy: i can't believe you said "ewe" about his D OUT LOUD!
JerseyGirl: haha
JerseyGirl: i know
JerseyGirl: but i was so wasted i didnt care
JerseyGirl: it was HUGE though
I likewise have never personally encountered an uncut schlong, probably because of my propensity for fucking red-blooded Americans and/or Jews.  I keep waiting for the day when I will stumble across one, because I'm intensely curious about it.  I've certainly seen pictures, so I doubt my response will be to say "ew" when I see that homeslice's weiner is wearing a turtleneck.  In fact, I remember this girl I knew in college was dating an uncut dude, and she showed me and a few other intensely curious girls photos of her inflating his foreskin.  I remember laughing hysterically because they were really some of the most absurdly ridiculous sex pictures I'd ever seen.  I also remember vowing that should I ever come across a honey with extra casing on his sausage I would promptly make like this bitch and blow it up like a balloon for humor value alone.  Combining goofy jokes and fellatio sounds like a win-win to me. 

JerseyGirl clearly got over her shock about this dude's foreskin because she subsequently planned a trip to England to go get more strange of the tea-and-crumpets variety in spite of the likelihood of encountering more peek-a-boo dick.  She was telling me about the new international mark she was wooing via Facebook, and I was encouraging her to whore us up proud.
Razzy: toss it up
Razzy: as i think they say in england
Razzy: i know "tosser" means "slut"
JerseyGirl: haha
JerseyGirl: i just emailed you his pic
Razzy: yeah he's cute
Razzy: although i'm getting MAJOR pencil dick vibes from him
Razzy: i think it's the 5 o'clock 'stache but NOT beard
Razzy: how tall is he?
JerseyGirl: no he's tall
JerseyGirl: i've touched it before
JerseyGirl: it's big
Razzy: well pencils can be long
Razzy: they're just skinny
Razzy: i call a long pencil a "cervical spear"
Razzy: i fucked a dude like that once, it felt like fucking a pap smear
JerseyGirl: well i'll let you know!
Razzy: please do!
JerseyGirl: although i dont think it's pencil
JerseyGirl: i have a good feeling
Razzy: i hope i'm wrong, i hate pencil
JerseyGirl: it's probably all skinned up though
JerseyGirl: nasty
Razzy: LOL
Razzy: well now you're an old pro with the uncut weiners
JerseyGirl: i know. it's so nast though
Upon her return from Merry Olde Englande, JerseyGirl was pleased to report that her man was a European rarity: not Jewish or Muslim and yet still trimmed.  I was a little disappointed, if only because I wanted to hear about JerseyGirl insulting the appearance of her partner's package as foreplay.  Now that she's back stateside, she dumped her original skinjob and has no future prospects from the United Kingdom or continental Europe in her sights, so that well of uncircumcized weiner follies has run dry.  So now I guess I'm going to have to go out and find some uncut dick of my own for amusement.  So take notice all you Razzyphiles of British, Australian, other European, or Americans with hippie parents extraction...for any fellas rocking Shar-pei schlongs, I'm currently enrolling subjects in my personal study.  Holler at your skank. 

Labels: , , , , ,


Monday, January 26, 2009

 

...and STAY OUT of the World Economic Forum!

I just read an article about how this year's World Economic Forum at Davos, Switzerland is going to be short on the celebrities compared to years past. Instead, this year the party is going to feature a bunch of boring world leaders.  Surely the people of Davos are going to be totally bummed that instead of Claudia Schiffer, an inexplicable attendee from years past, they are going to be rubbing elbows with hot pieces like these:



I'm not bummed, however, that something called the "World Economic Forum" is being attended by various presidents and prime ministers rather than a bunch of celebrity douchebags. In fact, I'm hardly surprised that the global economy is as fucked as it is considering that last year, the keynote speaker was the head of Lehman Brothers. Furthermore, years past have also seen the likes of these fucktards running around:

Yeah, I'm sure they made some really important contributions to this event. Angelina Jolie could talk about how best to steal orphans from developing countries to promote an image of saintliness, Brad Pitt could explain how a gold-plated couch is a sensible investment, and Bono can explain how to simultaneously maintain a smug, overly pious demeanor while lecturing people about poverty from behind his rose-colored designer sunglasses and run an AIDS charity into the ground.  No wonder that with a bunch of self-righteous geniuses like these running the world economy we are currently as fucked as we are.  

People who spend their time renting 32,000 square foot mansions while arrogantly lecturing the little people about doing their part should not be anywhere near a place where decisions are being made regarding the reinvigoration of the world's stalled credit markets.  Bono should be excluded based on those dumb sunglasses alone. Yeah, we get it, asshole.  Even when you are trying to show off what a big social conscience you have, you're still a rich rock star.  An aging, obnoxious rock star who likes pink lenses, much like my one aunt who sold Mary Kay did in the 80s.  However, Vladimir Putin, who is also known to play ridiculous dress-up, still has the decency and professionalism to show up for a fucking economic forum in a suit sans decorative eyewear.  I suspect this is because Putin is famous for, oh, say, RUNNING RUSSIA WITH AN IRON FIST instead of singing inexplicable Spanish on iPod commercials.  Not that I'm a big fan of Putin's autocratic stranglehold on the Russian government or his apparent desire to deprive former Soviet territories of their independence via carpet bombing, but he's certainly more qualified to sit in a meeting about the global economy than a dude whose primary achievement on the world political stage is being the most recognizable person in Ireland.  Sorry, Bono, but while the whole world liked "With or Without You," writing the lyrical content of The Joshua Tree album doesn't give you the economic credentials to do anything besides interrupt, distract from, and generally disrupt the productivity of actually powerful people trying to stave off a global depression.

It's a little late, but better late than never in terms of booting these pompous, unqualified retards out of forums like these.  Angela Merkel doesn't need to get Brangelina or Bono's two cents before she starts strategizing with Gordon Brown and Nicolas Sarkozy about how to save Europe's banks.  Way to improve the World Economic Forum.  Go Swiss bankers!

Labels: , , , , ,


Saturday, October 18, 2008

 

Sweet sobaka

I think Vladimir Putin is basically a total dipshit.  For one thing, no matter how many absurd I-wish-I-was-Ernest-Hemingway pictures he takes of himself fly fishing, he seems like the kind of dude who would be in a movie from the 80s as some sort of evil, capitalism-decrying Communist party stalwart who couldn't be trusted and whose sole reason for existing is to wipe America off the map.  Indeed, since the officer and a hot piece John McCain cannot say a sentence about Putin without including the words "KGB" or "apparatchik," that's obviously exactly what he is even though he appears different than the red-faced blusterers of Russian rulers past.  He may not look like a giant vodka-swilling bear in a fur hat,  and he might like to show off his skinny topless chest doing macho outdoorsy stuff, and he may have appointed a tiny Deep Purple-loving Ukrainian-independence suppressing lawyer as his successor, but that doesn't mean he's somehow different from any other asshole pinko motherfucker who would invade Colorado via fleets of innocent-looking Aeroflot jets and declare war on Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen, C. Thomas Howell, Jennifer Grey, and Lea Thompson.

However, I have now realized that Putin has one redeeming quality.  While perusing the news stories from the other inferior excuses for countries that populate the world, I came across an article describing how Putin loves his doggy so much that he made her a special GPS tracker so she'll never get lost.  Okay, the article just said he made her a GPS tracker and Putin disputed with his deputy prime minister whether or not his sweet dogger Koni liked the fact that "her free life is over," but still...I assume he outfitted his dog with a satellite tracker to keep Koni from getting lost and ending up in Siberia or something because he would be devastated by her absence.

A guy with a precious puppy like Koni here can't be completely evil.  I'm cool with Putin from now on so long as he always appears in pictures with this doggity sweetness.  In fact, just let Koni take over for Putin.  If that bitch were calling the shots, Putin would have plenty of free time to pose for stomach-churning topless macho propaganda photos and everyone would want to get all diplomatic with Russia because Koni is SO FUCKING CUTE!   The world would win.  Koni for commisar!

Labels: , , ,


Wednesday, September 03, 2008

 

Beauty-disadvantaged is the new ugly

I've never been to Australia, but judging by what I've learned from a spate of Foster's commercials and Mick "Crocodile" Dundee, it's a continent full of awesomely crazy people.  Along with other traditional Aussie customs like drinking, barbecuing shrimp, and putting random water buffalo to sleep with some kind of Aboriginal hoodoo hand puppetry, outlandish craziness in all matters is a revered cultural tradition Down Under.  That's why I loved reading the news about some mayor of a town called Mount Isa begging ugly women to come visit.
Mayor John Molony wants "beauty-disadvantaged women" to know that they're always welcome in his "bloke-heavy" Australian mining town.
"May I suggest if there are five blokes to every girl, we should find out where there are beauty-disadvantaged women and ask them to proceed to Mount Isa," Molony tells the Townsville Bulletin. "Quite often you will see walking down the street a lass who is not so attractive with a wide smile on her face. Whether it is recollection of something previous or anticipation for the next evening, there is a degree of happiness."
In other words, ugly chicks DEFINITELY get laid in Mount Isa, because all those miners are horny as hell and they'll take anything with three holes and two legs.  Actually, I'm not sure the "two legs" part even fits into those standards.  I bet the goat population in Mount Isa will be sitting pretty gingerly if Mayor Molony's plea for ugly bitches goes unanswered.

Mayor Molony seems like a dirty guy suggesting that the "beauty disadvantaged" among us head to Mount Isa just because the guys there are desperate to fuck any female in Genus Homo regardless of her facial severity, but he goes on to prove that he's not.  Rather than just another bloke in a bloke-heavy mining encampment, he's a profound philosophical thinker who goes so far as citing a fairy tale which may or may not exist to prove the old adage that beauty isn't skin deep. 
"Often those who are beauty-disadvantaged are unhappy with their lot. Some, in other places in Australia, need to proceed to Mount Isa where happiness awaits," he says. "And, really, beauty is only skin deep. Isn't there a fairy tale about an ugly duckling that evolves into a beautiful swan?"
Not surprisingly, the few women already in Mount Isa aren't responding to the Mayor's entreaty for more ugly bitches with "a wide smile" on their faces.
One woman tells the Brisbane Times "there just aren't top quality men here."

Some of the city's women plan to hold a protest.

"It's offensive to women everywhere, let alone women in Mount Isa," Betty Kiernan, a member of the Far North Queensland parliament, tells the Bulletin.
Uh oh. I think the Mayor has stirred up a hornet's nest of trouble. I went to Smith College, and I know all about "beauty disadvantaged" women suffering from a dearth of "quality" sex partners who have caught the protesting bug.  I used to blast Too $hort songs about treating fine-ass bitches like dirt and breaking hoes for scrilla at their candlelight vigils for sport.  Those girls used to get so mad!  Fun times.  

Anyway, ugly, undersexed girls with a mission act like every cause–from encouraging recycling to calling for a protest of Domino's Pizza to petitioning for the residential dining serve to cease serving North African Vegetable Stew–is tantamount to stopping the genocide in Darfur. They will annoy you to death with their shrill, shrewish, inane harping, and will never rest their circular arguments until finally you're finally so bored and irritated with fighting them that you just throw up your hands in surrender and validate them and go get a drink or otherwise occupy your time more productively.  The mayor of Mount Isa is about to learn this the hard way, because if there's any cause ugly girls rally for, it's being called "ugly."  At Smith, I think these chicks would probably rather see the oceans' ecosystems destroyed by 19th century whaling practices or women's suffrage repealed than be called "ugly."  I'm quite certain that the ladies of Mount Ida aren't all that different, judging by the magnitude of their response and their eagerness to commence protesting.

However, I do give the mayor props for his attempt at political correctness with the employ of the term "beauty disadvantaged."  That's the kind of roundabout euphemism that usually spastic protestors use to obfuscate logical flaws with pseudo-intellectual excess vocabulary.  I'd congratulate the mayor on his caginess for beating the pissed-off women at their own game if I thought it was remotely intentional.  Sadly, I bet this poor mayor actually looks like Donk from Crocodile Dundee: a thick-necked, occasionally violent, grimy man with a smell like transmission fluid, Lucky Strike butts, and three years worth of sweat simmered under the unforgiving Queensland sun, a moonshine still behind the corrugated metal lean-to he calls home, and a smile that's more teeth than gums. He probably just wants to get laid so badly that he was hoping to haul a large catch of desperate ugly girls without offending them directly by casting aspersions regarding their appearance.  Poor guy doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to be beauty-disadvantaged pussy.

Labels: , , , ,


Tuesday, August 19, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Olympic gymsnatchtits judges


Name: Australia, Russia, and China's gymsnatchtits judges

DOB: ???

Occupation: hating on America

Hometown: Australia, Russia, and China

Current residence: National Indoor Stadium, Beijing, China

Douchebaggery:  Anyone who watched last night's uneven bars Olympic ladies gymsnatchtits individual medal competition knows that my barely legal girlfriend Nastia Liukin got screwed harder than me at an open bar nerd convention full of MIT graduates.  She tied cheating thirteen-year-old He Kexin and wound up coming out behind courtesy of the new scoring system's wack tiebreaking rules.  The undeservedly low score the Australian judge gave to Nastia fucked up her average, and she found herself with yet another silver medal in spite of earning the same score as her pubescent competition.  That's right...they tied, and Nastia still lost.  Thanks to the perpetually eloquent and informative Bela Karolyi ranting to Bob Costas about the scoring system afterward, this was due to "incompetence at the judging."

Similar issues with unfairly low scores posted by the Chinese and Russian judges screwed Alicia Sacramone out of a medal in the vaulting and almost fucked Nastia in the all-around.  At least I expect the Russians and Chinese to play dirty when it comes to posting unfair gymsnatchtits scores reflecting an anti-American bias.  Why the Australian judges have jumped enthusiastically into hating on Team USA is beyond me, but according to Valeri Liukin it's been this way for the past three world championships.  Now I have a new reason not to go to Australia.  Apart from the fact that Foster's sucks and they have horrifying spiders, they have American-screwing gymsnatchtits judges who are at best inexcusably inept and at worst flagrantly complicit in rigging the Chinese gold haul.  Nastia was robbed, and to use the immortal words of Bev Niner's resident morally condescending slut Kelly Taylor, Australia is never again.     

Labels: , , , ,


Monday, July 21, 2008

 

We'll put a boot in China's ass, it's the American way

I'm getting pretty stoked for the Olympics, and I just read an article from Sunday's Telegraph that reminded me why.  Entitled "Battle for gold offers China first chance to 'defeat' America," the piece describes how China is gearing up to kick our freedom-loving asses this August in Beijing:
China's emerging rivalry with America as a global superpower will move into the sporting arena next month as its Olympic athletes strive to oust their US counterparts from the top of the medals table for the first time.

In a showdown reminiscent of the Cold War-era battles for Olympian dominance, China has put unprecedented effort into ensuring that Beijing 2008 will be a sporting triumph as well as a logistical one.

With their athletes already dominant in events such as gymnastics, table tennis and martial arts, Chinese sporting chiefs have spent the past few years focusing on disciplines where Americans have traditionally excelled, including swimming, basketball and athletics.

China's attempt to end America's run of supremacy at the last three Games will add an East-West frisson not seen since the demise of the Soviet Union, which topped the medals board eight times in the post-war period. While the rest of the world's eyes will be on the heroics of the individual contestants, Chinese officials will pay closest attention to the total medal tally. Some expect America to take an early lead with the many swimming events in the first few days – but be squeezed by China as other disciplines kick in.

Darryl Seibel, a spokesman for the US Olympic Committee, said: "We expect this to be one of the most competitive Olympics in recent history. That is down to a combination of China's investment in its Olympic programme, Russia's decision to do the same and the policy of some nations like Britain, which are targeting specific medals in sports that are important to them. China has to be considered the favourite. Every host nation receives a huge boost."
Oh, it's ON, bitches!  I loved growing up during Cold War Olympics because it was so fun to root against the Russians.  Even though I was nine when the Summer Olympics were held in Seoul in 1988 and I was more concerned with my lesbian scientist Barbies and riding my bike than studying the nuances of our drama with the U.S.S.R., I knew that as an American I had to feel one way: LET'S KICK SOME COMMIE ASS! 

It didn't matter to me then that all I knew about the Soviet Union was that they had bread lines, thought police, lots of tanks, weird-looking churches, something evil called the KGB, MIG fighter jets that guys from Top Gun shoot down, and a cold-ass part of the country called Siberia.  Oh, and they displayed Lenin's body like the damn Declaration of Independence (gross), weren't free, and hated America.  All of that sounded pretty bad to me, so I was glad to ignore that pussified Sting "I bet the Russians love their children too" garbage and root against those pinko cocksuckers in any and all Olympic sporting contests.  Besides, channeling major philosophical, political, and historical disagreements into an international sports contest is a hell of a lot more fun and constructive than nuclear war.

Since the Soviet Union's collapse, we haven't had any really good national rivals to hate on during the games of the whatever Olympiad, and that's disappointing to me.  It's just no fun to hate on the Russians since we stopped fearing that they might annihilate us with 400 kiloton Sloika warheads at any moment.  As far as our enemies abroad are concerned, I can't get too excited about hating on Iran or North Korea's Olympic team, because I have yet to see any of their athletes at the Olympics.  In fact, Wikipedia tells me that Iran last mounted the podium with Olympic gold at the Melbourne summer games in 1956.  Sadly for all of us freedom-loving patriots looking for an enemy, Al Qaeda doesn't have an Olympic team.  Even if they were a sovereign nation and thus permitted to compete, I would wager that they wouldn't be much of a threat anyway, since making crazy videos of anti-western rhetori-babble for Al-Jazeera, airline hijacking, and illegal arms trading aren't Olympic events.

Therefore, I'm glad China has stepped in to fill the void of vicious international rival.  Finally I've found something that I can see eye to eye with the annoyingly disruptive, hypocritical, patently stupid Free Tibet protestors on: hating on China hard.  It's too bad all those losers are boycotting the Olympics, because I would think that watching Michael Phelps smote some Chinese ruin on the side of the swimming pool would be a truly satisfying way of dealing out some karmic reward for their shoddy human rights record. This year, China may have been focusing on traditionally American-dominated sports, but we are not only going to kick their ass at swimming, we're going to kick their ass at traditional Chinese-dominated sports like women's gymnastics too!  Sure, America may be up to its tits in Chinese loans to cover the Iraq War, but that will make it even more satisfying when Shawn Johnson and Nastia Liukin open a can of gymnastic supremacy all over the People's Republic.  I'm glad we finally have some real rivals to hate for once at the Olympics, because it will make it that much more sweet when we stomp their asses with nationalistic pride not seen since Gorbachev was running shit at the Kremlin.

And if China wants to know what happens when a Communist superpower tries to get the better of the U.S. of A, I would advise them to watch a little movie called RED DAWN:

That's right, China...WOLVERINES!  USA!  U! S! A!  U! S! A!

Labels: , , , ,


Tuesday, May 13, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: the Bermuda Triangle


Name: the Bermuda Triangle

DOB: according to Wikipedia, it was first noticed by Christopher Columbus in 1492 when he sailed the ocean blue, but first called that on September 16, 1950 in some AP wire stories

Occupation: being one of the world's most non-mysterious mysteries

Hometown: it varies by author, but it can be as narrow as the points between Miami, the Bahamas, and Bermuda, or as wide as including half the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico

Current residence: it still varies by author

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness:  I just saw an ad for vacations in Bermuda, which made me think "Why would I want to go there?  They have a mysterious and deadly triangle."  Then I thought about how ridiculous such a perspective on Bermuda and its pink sand beaches actually was, since thousands of people vacation there every year, and looked up the Bermuda Triangle on the internets.

After a brief study of Wikipedia, I decided the Bermuda Triangle has the best fake-me-out PR in the world.  The Bermuda Triangle is an ill-defined area where a series of shipwrecks happened (probably because of hurricanes, piracy, or shoddy piloting/navigating skills) before we had the National Weather Service.  There are countless shows and books about the Bermuda Triangle, and losers with nothing better to do have posited (and successfully sold) all sorts of theories for these "mysterious" disappearences and whatnot.  A quick trip to Wikipedia will inform a reasonable reader that most of the so-called "mysteries" of the Bermuda Triangle are made up, heavily embellished in the enigmatic department, and or have a logical explanation that has been conveniently ignored in various analyses of the Triangle legend.  In other words, at some point people realized that there was money to be had if the normal travel disasters occurring in a heavily trafficked region of the Atlantic ocean were dressed in the trappings of mystery and weirdness.

The Bermuda Triangle mystique is so profitable that OTHER "Triangles" have sprung up (ie: the treacherous Michigan Triangle), all of them in major shipping lanes bound to have a high number of sinking ships by virtue of all the traffic they get.  These competing Triangles don't have the number of books or Discovery channel specials or crappy SciFi movies made about them as the Bermuda, but presumably they're hoping to expand their brand accordingly.

So kudos, Bermuda Triangle.  Heidi Montag should call your people, because you are truly the greatest made-up bullshit villain in history.

Labels: ,


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: , , , , ,


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

 

Olympics protestors are dumb

Awhile back, I douchebagged "Free Tibet" activists, and this inspired several pissed-off comments going off about China's human rights record and accusing me of hypocrisy, based on the notion that if I'm all "Yay, free speech!" I shouldn't call for the censorship of "Free Tibet" losers.  I'd like to clarify that I wasn't calling for their censorship.  I was just saying that I reserve the right to declare their protests (ie: scaling the Golden Gate Bridge to hang a big "Free Tibet" sign) stupid and fucking pointless.  The protestors can continue to think that they're doing something meaningful to make the Chinese government accountable for their shabby human rights record and occupation of Tibet by whining about the Olympics, and China can keep being like "uh, fuck you, and by the way, continue to enjoy all those cheap Chinese-made products you consume like they're going out of style."  In other words, way to waste time, losers.  Get a real job.

Validating my theory that these protestors are morons if they think that bitching about the Olympics is going to make any headway whatsoever about the way China handles its business is this person trying in vain to raise awareness of how bad those commies are:



Uh...you mean besides this time we allowed Nazi Germany to host the Olympics?


Last time I looked, the 1936 Summer Games were held in Berlin, and yes, that sure is a swastika-rocking Hitler heiling the torch at the opening ceremonies of the XI Olympiad.  Throwing the Olympics in Nazi Germany didn't stop us from delivering a good, old-fashioned American ass-kicking (by that I mean protracted, extraordinarily costly war on multiple fronts) to the Nazis three years later when they invaded Poland.

I'm not going to pay attention to some mouth-breathing idiot telling me that not watching (the disturbingly Manning-esque) Michael Phelps swim all over the competition come summer is my duty as a decent human being, when said mouth-breathing idiot's arguments against China are based on a woefully inadequate education in world history.  I don't look to ignorant tools to inform myself about important global political affairs.  If you want to hate on China for hosting the Olympics, then I suggest cracking a fucking book before you start making insightful comparisons with other infamously genocidal tyrannical governments.

 

Labels: , , , , , , , ,


Tuesday, April 08, 2008

 

Daily Douchebag: Free Tibet activists



Name:
Free Tibet activists

DOB: 1951, upon incorporation of Tibet into the PRC

Occupation: annoying people, rioting, stunts

Hometown: wherevs

Current residence: the Golden Gate Bridge

Douchebaggery:  That "Free Tibet" crap has always annoyed me.  Sure, the commies running China are dicks about preserving Tibetan culture and that sucks, but I don't need the fucking Beastie Boys lecturing me sanctimoniously about it.  Granted, my knowledge of Tibetan culture comes from that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where that hot piece Marian literally drinks some fat sherpa under the table and retains sufficient wit to banter flirtatiously with Smith College professor Dr. Henry "Indiana" Jones and fight off a horde of archaeologically-minded Nazis trying to steal her medallion doohickey that points out the location of the Ark of the Covenant.  Oh shit, that was Nepal.  Oops.

Anyway, I thought most of that Free Tibet stuff had gone out of vogue, much like analog television or MySpace or protesting about the women in Afghanistan.  Now with the Beijing Olympics approaching, however, I'm once again reminded that there's this pain-in-the-ass occupied country called Tibet and hippies are pissed that the Dalai Lama can't creep everyone out with his child molester glasses there.  

However, now the Free Tibet scene isn't about Rage Against the Machine concerts and self-righteous college students so much as it is about angry Tibetans and their supporters taking the Olympics-related world media attention as a cue to get extreme with their protests.  That means dudes are getting their riot on in major cities from Lhasa to Paris, and doing ridiculous bullshit like scaling the Golden Gate Bridge ahead of the Olympic torch to hang homemade Free Tibet signs.  Yeah, I'm sure the Chinese government is going to get right on giving Tibet its independence that thanks to a bunch of peace-disturbing unemployed losers attacking the Olympic torch with fire extinguishers and some assholes with climbing gear fucking with traffic.  I know that these most recent protests have convinced me of two things: Free Tibet assholes have too much time on their hands and come up with stupid ideas for media whoring.  They should fall off the Golden Gate Bridge and do us all a favor.  Fuck Tibet. 

Labels: , , , , ,


Monday, April 07, 2008

 

Memoirs of a Hired Twink

Apparently in Japan, the new hot thing for successful women to spend their money on is a "geisha guy," an effeminate companion who will drink champagne with them and say stuff like, "Oooh, girl, those shoes are FIERCE."

Per the article in CNN:
TOKYO, Japan (CNN) -- At first glance, the man and woman at the nightclub look like any other couple on a date. He flirts and pours champagne. She looks at him and laughs.

This isn't a date, though. It's business.

The woman, a successful executive, has joined a growing number of professional women in Japan in forking out from $1,000 to $50,000 a night for male companionship.


They meet their "hosts" in hundreds of clubs that have sprung up around Tokyo - the industry says only compliments are exchanged. The women pay for a man to lavish them with undivided attention.


"There's nothing wrong with a woman paying to be entertained by a man," one female client says. "It's just another step in equality."


It's a dizzying reversal of traditional gender roles in a country long known for geishas pampering male clients with conversation, singing and dancing. Now a new breed of entertainer has cropped up -- think of them as male geishas.


"I give women things that men normally don't do, like complimenting their appearance," says one host, 24-year-old Yunosuke, who only goes by his single host name. "I make women happy."


And they make him happy: Yunosuke says he earned more than $200,000 last year, enough to let him visit a salon once a day to have his hair dyed and blow-dried.


"Women see us as one of their accessories," he says. "They like to wear nice things, so I try to look prettier for them all the time."


What drives the business boom is an increase in the earning power of Japanese women, according to Air Group, a company that owns a chain of "host" clubs.


"Japanese women are now working hard and making more money," says Yuko Takeyama, a woman in her early 30s who manages Air Group. "They see this as a way to de-stress."

Women love being treated well without the pressures that come with dating, she says.
Yunosuke's customer from the nightclub agrees.

"This is a gift for myself," she says. "It's the same as spending money on a trip or buying something."
So, in other words, instead of paying for some hot dude to dick them properly, these ladies are forking over up to 50 grand a night for the privilege of being a fag hag? I mean, seriously. I'd rather pay for a trip or buy something--namely a more masculine male escort--than waste those yen on an evening with a metrosexual girly-boy like Yunosuke:

I wouldn't expect anything besides the word "effete" to describe a fella who says the main perk of his high-paying job is indulging in a daily root touch-up and blow-out. Can't businesswomen in Japan afford better than this androgynous metrosexual she-male in terms of company for the evening? Note to self: Japan is definitely a BYO-gigolo situation for girls like me who like their weiners cut from more masculine cloth.

Labels: , , , ,


Monday, March 31, 2008

 

One instance where human trafficking would be a good thing

Until a few weeks ago, Paris Hilton had been staying mercifully out of my gossip internets for the most part.  Unfortunately, then she started a new publicity campaign relationship with Benji Madden from the douchetastic manufactured punk band Good Charlotte.  Now they are like the King and Queen of the paparazzi's Douchecoming Dance and they are touring the world with Benji's band creating a media frenzy at every stop.  First they went to South Africa, which Paris stated she liked almost as much as the country of "West Africa," where Paris paid some AIDS orphans to pretend they liked her for some faux humanitarian photo sessions.  Next stop: Turkey, where Paris did some aimless shimmying that was supposed to approximate a belly dance and looked like an asshole.

Today's episode of Stupidity from the Paris-and-Benji World Tour has the world's most revolting couple stopping in beautiful Prague, where this video was shot of Paris and Benji being chased through the streets by a mob of photographers.  At some point not caught on camera, Paris apparently face plants on the historic cobbled streets.  On an aside, what kind of decent paparazzo doesn't get that on film?  These European paparazzi are pathetic.  A prime moment like that never would have been missed by a photog in Los Angeles.  U!S!A!  U!S!A!  Anyway, then Benji comes out to reason with the clamoring hordes of snappers and confirms that he's every bit the tool he appears, and they get into a cab and go.  It's not very exciting, but here it is if you've got nothing better to do and you're not already off on a killing spree after watching Ashton Kutcher's Nikon ad.

What I would like to know is that, so long as Paris and Benji are in the Czech Republic, couldn't anyone kidnap them and force them into slavery? I've heard from "Law and Order: Special Victims Unit" episodes and Lifetime original movies that there's all kinds of human trafficking going in Prague, and I'm sure there's a few depraved sickos out there who would pay top dollar for two minutes of heaven in some black market brothel's rape closet with old Valtrex Hilton.  Better yet, maybe someone could artfully tell her and Benji they should check out this amazingly hedonistic hostel in Bratislava, and someone can get the pleasure of torturing these two assholes to death.  If I never see these two again, it would be entirely too soon.

Labels: , , , ,


Sunday, March 30, 2008

 

Whatten hell...?

Apparently Latin America doesn't have the market cornered on zany variety shows.  I thought that there could be no three-hour exhibit of cars, stupid human tricks, marital counseling, skanky Fanta girl-esque chicks, singing contests, immigration tips, impromptu weddings, child custody battles, and sketch comedy more wack-tacular than the incomparable "Sabado Gigante."  I once saw a hedge-clipping contest on that show once!  Seriously, two guys with pruning shears raced each other to trim two long-ass hedges for the glory of being given $50 worth of "El mundo del ingles de Disney" products by the perennially suave hot Chilean Jew, Don Francisco.

Well, it seems Germany is giving the Spanish-speaking world a run for its dinero.  They have a similar show called "Wetten, dass...?", which Wikipedia also tells me is the most successful television show in Europe.  "Wetten, dass...?" means "Wanna bet...?" but watching a little of it, and I'm thinking it must also mean "What the hell...?", because that's the kind of reaction it elicits from me.  See if you don't react the same way to THIS:


I mean, "Whatten hell...?" It's this skinny dude crushing cans between his shoulder blades for no other reason except to drive the crowd wild and, seemingly, impress some cute girls. I love his assistant, who is a poor man's Seann William Scott rocking David Bowie's haircut from the movie Labyrinth.  I also love the host of this show, who seemingly appropriated Peter Frampton's hair and Siegfried and Roy's wardrobe as his signature look.  HOT.

According to Wikipedia, the premise of this show is that ordinary people perform bizarre tasks (examples include igniting a pocket lighter with an excavator's shovel and pushing a car with a spear with tip resting on the contestant's throat), and celebrity guests place friendly wagers with each other regarding the outcome.  Some celebrities who have been on this show include Heidi Klum, Grace Jones, Hugh Grant, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and...CURTIS "50 CENT" JACKSON AND ROBERT SYLVESTER KELLY!  Why did I not see a video of Fitty betting Kells over how many cans this skinny dude could crush between his scapulae and then trash-talking each other in German??  I need to see that!  I'd watch that every morning before going to work!

They need to get a cable channel showing "Wetten, dass...?" over here stateside immediately.  If this show can attract over 50% of the German-speaking viewer demographic In Germany, Austria, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland, there's no reason it can't pull some pretty big Nielsen ratings here in the States too.  I don't even speak any German besides "bratwurst" and "schiesse" and "guten tag" and I would watch this.  I have got to discuss this with my German friend Js and Ps and see if he can hook it up with details about how I might be able to get more "Wetten, dass...?" in my life.  Maybe he has some DVDs or something.

Labels: , , , , , ,


Friday, February 29, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Dmitry Medvedev


Name: Dmitry Anatolyevich Medvedev

DOB: September 14, 1965

Occupation: deputy prime minister of Russia, heir apparent to the throne democratically elected presidency of Russia, lawyer, businessman, "the Grand Vizier" as he is known around the Kremlin water cooler

Hometown: Leningrad, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Current residence: Moscow, Russia

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: Normally, Dmitry would qualify as decidedly too short for my taste (he's only 5'4"...I'm taller than him in high heels). Fitting with his Napoleonic stature, he's about to become the president of Russia because Vladimir Putin likes him, and in the Russian democracy, his vote is the only one that counts. Dmitry is expected to win the "election" this Sunday by a landslide, and continue doing things the Putin way: via autocratic tyranny and hilarious, asshole sound bites.

As I don't follow Russian politics closely other than to take notice when Putin orchestrates a sneaky plot to ruin some previously hot Ukrainian guy's looks via poisoning or to watch the hotness that is Red Dawn, I didn't have any idea who Medvedev was until earlier this week when he came onto my radar when sharing his views on international diplomacy. He said that upon his ascension to power, he is happy to work with any Western leaders, provided they have "modern positions, and not...glints of the past in their eyes, and...semi-senile views." In spite of his diminutive stature, Dmitry has balls of brass to come right out of the gate making what is CLEARLY a huge diss to George W. Bush, albeit a clever one as the use of "semi-" probably mitigates the accusations of senility enough to prevent his being declared an "enemy combatant" when he gets around to doing detente with the United States of Asskickery. Then again, Dmitry is the kind of guy who used his position as Chairman of Gazprom, Russia's state-run gas conglomerate, to cut off energy to the Ukraine to keep them from joining NATO. See how independent you are when you're freezing your dioxin-scarred ass off and eating cold chicken Kiev, Yushchenko! Dmitry is an asshole, but he obviously gets results. I hope he follows his nefarious political schemes to achieve "modern positions" to their logical endpoint and starts forcibly shaving beards off old Russian men, Peter the Great style. Tsarist domination is coming back into vogue.

Even better than his strongarm tactics is his personal life. He's apparently a brilliant lawyer and textbook author, and spends all his down time porking his hot wife Svetlana and listening to Deep Purple. He loves Deep Purple so much that he flew them to the Kremlin to celebrate Gazprom's bending over the Ukraine and making them its bitch. You've got to love a man who celebrates his socioeconomic evildoing with a hot DPing. And get your mind out of the gutter...that stands for "Deep Purpling," you pervs!

Apparently, he owns every Deep Purple 8-track ever made. I have nothing but respect for a man who is so dedicated in collecting so many different recordings of "Smoke on the Water" and "Hush" and whatever else Deep Purple sang. I wonder if he also likes BTO, Supertramp, and the Edgar Winters Group. If so, then I wonder if Dmitry Medvedev is somehow my father's ex-Soviet soulmate.

Besides, even if he is Vladimir Putin's puppet, I'd rather have Dmitry posing for the photo ops than his predecessor. He's much more appealing for pictures emphasizing Russian "strong like bull" physical prowess than Putin ever could be, even when attempting to pass himself off as some kind of ex-KGB version of Ernest Hemingway:

If I were Russian, Dmitry would totally have my vote. Not that it would matter, but he'd have my pretend, going-through-the-democratic-motions vote nonetheless.

Labels: , , , ,


Wednesday, February 20, 2008

 

Eat (dick) at Joe Delucci's

My favorite story from today's news comes to us from merry olde Englande, where some uptight slags decided to go have a nice dinner at Joe Delucci's, an Italian restaurant in Lichfield, Staffordshire.

Apparently, these ladies were unhappy with the service and complained. To make up for the poor dining experience, the staff comped them a free item on their tab. Unfortunately, this didn't go over too well, since the customers were not in the mood for a free order of "SUCK MY DICK FUCK FACE."

Anyone who has ever worked in a restaurant has dreamed of doing something like this. Back when I lived in Tacoma, I worked for a couple months as a cocktail waitress at this club/restaurant called Jazzbones. My roommate Miss Corbutt worked there, and they needed someone, and I figured a little extra money couldn't hurt. Besides, they were generous with the shift drinks, so it helped me cover some of my monumentally large alcohol expenditures. I figured, I hang out in bars all the time, so working in one can't be much different...right?

WRONG! Waiting tables is one of the most exhausting, dehumanizing experiences of all time. I once had to chase down an elderly couple who walked out on their tab, then got pissed at me for making them pay for their dinners and refused to tip me. I had the feeling they pulled this scam for free dinner routinely, because they were appalled that I had actually chased them down a block away from the restaurant. No WAY was their fucking artichoke dip and New York strips coming out of my tips. I guess looking like harmless old people usually worked to give them a head start when dining and dashing, and they needed all the head start they could get since they were old and any barely ambulatory waitress could easily pursue them on foot. They were surprised they hadn't gotten away with it, but not so surprised as to make it seem like I was really putting them out and thus not deserving of a gratuity.

Another time, this table of really, really, REALLY drunk, greasy guys who all looked like they were trying to simultaneously channel Tony Montana and Mohammed Atta spent the entire night sexually harassing me to a point where I was ready to smash each one in the head with the Coors Lights I brought them to wash down their fifty fucking tequila shots. Every time I would pass by they tried to pull me onto one of their laps and feel me up, slap me in the ass, or otherwise try to lecherously manhandle me. Finally, I cut them off, at which point they called me a "fucking cunt" and the bouncer a "fat fag" (clever), and then they walked out on their tab. The bartender had their credit card information, however, and not only did he charge their drinks to them, he told me to go ahead and give myself a 25% tip.

Still another time, this girl who went to my high school came in with her parents. This girl was a dumb, rich, spoiled snowboarder chick and we weren't friends, but were on friendly terms. One time I saw her at a party over Christmas when I was home my freshman year of college and she asked me how school was and where I was going. I told her, and she replied in the quintessential stoner drawl, "Smith?! That's who sponsors me, dude!", pointing to her Smith brand boarding goggles which she was inexplicably wearing at a nighttime keg party in Nick Falsetta's parents' garage. Anyway, that night at Jazzbones, her father took me aside and said that if I took care of them, he would take really good care of me. I obliged, and brought them over $100 worth of lemon drops and Woodford's on the rocks. When they left, the asshole tipped me FIFTY FUCKING CENTS. I'd honestly rather get no tip at all, because fifty cents is just insulting. Even worse, he handed me the tab book with its measly two quarters tucked inside with a patronizing, "That's for you, sweetheart." His daughter then said she had a great time, couldn't wait to come back, and we should, like, totally hang out or something. I resolved that if they ever came in again, I'd "trip" and dump a full tray of lemon drops all over them. Lucky for them, they never did, or at least not during my short tenure there.

There were numerous other similar incidents with bad customers that guaranteed my stint as a waitress would be short. I had another, normal job with business cards and a phone extension and a cubicle and a 401(k) and the works, so it's not like I needed Jazzbones to subsist. I just could not spend my weekend nights hauling ass for people that were determined to be unhappy or complain because they were fucking cheap and didn't want to pay for their meals or tip me. I had no interest in working myself to the bone just to be insulted or harassed. Most of the time, when people complained, it was about the food (which sucked), the service (either me, the bartender, or the kitchen, all of whom were perpetually slammed because the management didn't adequately staff the place), or the live music, and I would do whatever I could to placate them. I comped fucked-up orders and was always friendly and smiling (believe it or not, I actually have great customer service skills). Often, people who complained really did have a legitimate complaint, and I would just try to make it right. However, there were always those customers that complained for the sake of complaining, or tried to sneak out of paying their tab, or refused to tip for some bullshit reason (they didn't like me, they didn't like the food, or they didn't like having to pay a cover charge for whatever shiteous blues band was playing). Those are the people that I always fantasized about screaming something along the lines of "SUCK MY DICK, FUCK FACE!" to.

Therefore, props to the staff at Joe Delucci's for living out every restaurant workers' dream. I can only imagine that this table of bitches who received this profane bill completely deserved it. They probably came in and complained that it took too long to seat their ten-top, then probably changed their orders a zillion times, then probably bitched and moaned about everything from their service to the food, and then probably demanded a free meal. If the group's spokeswhore, Clare Watkins, is any indication, these hookers were a detestable bunch of perpetually unsatisfied shrews:
"Ms Watkin said: "I couldn't believe it. The bill read 'fish cakes', which one of us had for a starter, and it was written right above it - absolutely disgusting language."

"We actually booked the table for 8 o' clock in the evening, by the time they had taken our order it was quarter to nine and we didn't actually receive our food until quarter past 10."

She added: "I'd like a written apology from the restaurant and I'd also like some compensation.

"I think that the way that we've been spoken to is absolutely outrageous."
She'd also like some compensation, huh? For what...pain and suffering? So maybe the service wasn't fabulous. It's not like these bitches actually starved waiting for their damn fish cakes. An order of "suck my dick, fuck face" would probably do these tramps some good. Good show, Joe Delucci's staff. Next time I make it across the pond, I'll be sure to make a detour through Staffordshire just to ensure that I commend them on a job well done. Maybe if any of them are cute I'll even suck their dicks like the fuck face I am! It would be the least I could do to show my appreciation.

Labels: , , , ,


Thursday, February 14, 2008

 

Daily Dude I Want to Hit: Tania Derveaux



Name: Tania Derveaux

DOB: ???

Occupation: political whore...literally

Hometown: Antwerp, Belgium

Current residence:
still Antwerp???

Why I Want to Hit that Hotness: I am waiting for Barnes and Noble to send me my latest hit of literary chronic, so in the meantime I'm rereading my favorite book, The Sun Also Rises. In an early scene from the book, the protagonist Jake Barnes is feeling self-loathing and lonely because he got his dick shot off in World War I and therefore can't bang his extra-slutty true love Lady Brett Ashley, so he picks up an ugly Parisian hooker with bad teeth to have dinner and pernod with. He tells her his name is Jacob, and she asks if he is Flemish. He reassures her that he is an American expatriate, and she says, "Good. I detest Flamands." I thought to myself, is there something really bad about the Belgians? What could possibly be bad about the Belgians?

That made me take a mental inventory of all the Belgian nationals I've ever known. Basically, I know one guy from grad school and that's it. He is very nice and I have no problem with him. So I went to the internets to find information about famous Belgians that might influence my opinions. Luckily, a site called famousbelgians.com exists as a primary source for exactly this type of research. Less luckily, I still hadn't heard of most of the people. There were three Nobel prizewinners I hadn't heard of, a couple tennis chicks I had heard of but had no opinion about other than "Clijsters" sounds like a lesbian porn if you glance at it real quick and replace the "j" with a "t" in your mind, and the Singing Nun, who I think sang a song in the sixties about the benefits of the Pill. I'm down with the Pill, and have nothing against tennis or Nobel peace prizes (excepting those that go to Al Gore), so thus far I couldn't find anything to despise about Flamands. The most famous name on the list I saw was Father Damien, who ran a leper colony in Molokai, Hawaii, and wound up dying of leprosy (don't fuck with genus Mycobacteria!), and in Catholic school my religion teachers were all over his nuts. So far, no bad Belgians! Then I smacked myself in the head...I had forgotten the most famous Belgian celebrity. She should be Belgium's fucking president. She is the greatest ambassador for Belgians in the entire world, and she is the reason I will never have anything against Flamands: Tania Derveaux!

If you're wondering "Tania Who?" trust that soon enough she'll be a household name. Tania Derveaux is a third-party candidate for the Belgian Senate, and is running on campaign promises to provide 400,000 jobs, and 40,000 of those will be of the "blow" variety.

I immediately went to Tania's website to see how that was going. By Tania's estimates, it will take almost two years of working seven days a week providing 80 5-minute BJs per day, so I was curious if she'd updated at all as to her progress. While there was no news on the fellatio front, I realized that Tania is taking on even more work for her cause. She's making a porn, and she's looking for some horny, politically conscious Flamands to star alongside her.

Sadly, the link to the casting page has been taken down, but the site movieLOL producing this has the scenes shot so far. As far as porn goes, I've seen a lot better. I can't figure out what's going on plotwise, other than Tania seems to have undergone some type of trauma and can't speak, she may have some sort of supernatural glass-breaking powers, and Germany is invading Denmark. At first I thought this was set during World War II, but then everyone has cell phones. Also, apparently in western Europe, duct tape is sufficient to prevent evildoers from kicking a door down. Given the image on the movie flyer, somehow George W. Bush, machines of war, a roll of rose-print wrapping paper, and masturbation will eventually get involved with all this. Needless to say, I am confused about both the storyline, and how this is going to result in hardcore sex acts. This is a deviation from a typical porn storyline, the most complicated of which usually involve some sort of unethical doctor-patient relationship. In fact, most porn doesn't HAVE a plot, unless you consider people banging the hell out of each other to be a thrilling narrative tale. Basically, I have no idea what's going on except that this is the most convoluted, laborious, plot-driven porn I've ever seen, and it's a stretch to call it "porn" since there aren't any SEX SCENES in it. There isn't even any nudity save a fleeting shot of Tania's buttcrack.

However, I have faith that Tania probably just hasn't had time to work in the sex scenes--which will undoubtedly explain all the incongruous nonsense that's transpired thus far--because she's too busy sucking dick. Giving 80 blowjobs a day for two years would definitely sap me of a little enthusiasm for producing arthouse politically-motivated pornography on the side. My submandibular joint is aching with sympathy pains just thinking about that. I can be patient.

Labels: , , , , , ,


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Subscribe to Posts [Atom]