Archive for the 'Pop Culture' Category

19
Aug

I demand Emmy nominations!

Not for me mind you. But for the creators and producers of my favorite show:

Intervention.

I’ve talked about it before many times. I’ve written about it many times. And although they tried to screw with me this season by making some of the stories sad and thus trying to make me care or prevent me from laughing, they eventually came back to what made this show great.

Last night saw the perfect storm occur in the world of morons, enablers, addicts, and anyone else on the periphery as well. This was, as God as my witness, the greatest hour of reality television ever. I’m talking on the sports level of Maris’ 61 home runs, DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak, Tiger at the US open in 2000, Jordan against Utah in the finals, the Red Sox winning the series in 2004, Richard Petty and Dale Earnhardt winning seven titles each, Michael Schumacher in Formula 1, and more.

Really. It was that big.

And it all started with a hard working man from Argentina (let’s say his name is Senor Dumbfuckenablertard), and a woman from Chile who we’ll call Senorita Denialtard.

Anywho, these folks immigrated to the United States for a better life, both for them and their kids. They had three boys. Their names are:

Studious overweight daddy doesn’t love me
Sebastian
Marcel

Guess which one's SODDLE
Marcel, SODDLE and Sebastian

Now, Studious overweight daddy doesn’t love me comes along and isn’t athletic really. He excels in school. Then his brothers are born and by age four they are known community wide as superstar soccer players.

Senor Dumbfuckenablertard states that growing up, his father wouldn’t let him play sports unless he’d finished his homework and brought home good grades. This upset Senor Dumbfuckenablertard as a child, and way back then he decided that he’d let his children play sports and back burner the whole education thing. "I didn’t push my sons to become doctors. I wanted them to be happy."

Super.

In her introduction, Senorita Denialtard never mentions the oldest child. She mentions how the doctor that delivered Sebastian said he was going to do great with the ladies because of his beautiful eyes. Marcel was beautiful too according to both parents.

One second here before I get too far into this story. Let me say that superficial appearancy stuff with kids doesn’t bother me. Want an earring in high school? Fine. Want to have a dumb haircut. Go crazy. It’s not permanent and isn’t a battle worth fighting in my opinion.

I do however get judgy about entitlement "kids" in their 20’s still with shaggy ass haircuts that wear stupid shit like those toboggan hats with the puffy ball on top and the two strings hanging down on each side. Especially when it’s fucking summer. Same goes for skull caps, crooked baseball caps, and really any other dumpster styled headwear. Here are a few pics to make my point:

stupid hat

Now back to our story.

I’m not going to recount every moment of the episode. You can watch it yourself here . I’m just going to rattle off some observations.

The show actually starts showing these two complete douchenozzle early 20’s shit heads smoking heroin. One’s in the bathroom and the other is in a bedroom immediately adjacent to said bathroom. Both rooms look like shit. Both young men are hacking and coughing. It’s 2pm or some such ridiculous time. You don’t find out at first, but this isn’t some flophouse or shitty North Hollywood apartment. It’s their parents’ very well appointed house. These two smoke heroin up to 10 times a day IN THEIR PARENTS’ HOUSE, and no one does anything.

I also noticed during this entire show that, although the work ethic of the parents was covered several times, not one person ever mentioned where either of these wastes of ejaculatory calories had ever worked a day in their lives. Not one. Just thought that was worth mentioning.

These two dipshits have been addicted to heroin for over two years. They smoke $600 bucks worth a day. Obviously they are dealing to make that money. Mom’s answer when faced with that is "I’ve never SEEN them deal drugs, so how do I know they are?" Smash cut to mom standing at the window watching her sun leaning in the passenger window of a strange car and then trotting back up to the house.

Mom: Who was that?

dipshit #2: A friend. I loaned him some money and he was paying me back.

Mom: What’s his name?

dipshit #2: It was a friend, alright? Sheesh (insert heroin-y eyerolling, gesturing like petulent child, then walking into the bedroom and pushing the door shut behind him in the mother’s face).

You also see dad handing Sebastian (dipshit #1) the keys to his car. Smash cut to Sebastian and Marcel returning home with a ball of black tar heroin the size of a fucking golf ball.

Smash cut again to Studious overweight daddy doesn’t love me sone saying "do you understand that they are dealing large amounts of heroin out of your house?" and Senor Dumbfuckenablertard saying "you don’t know that" and "I think you should leave if you are going to talk to me like that in my house." I assume the boy left to eat or get more of Jon Bon Jovi’s hair glued to his chin.

One funny thing is that, in the promos, the boys are referred to as local soccer celebrities, but I don’t see a picture of them in any soccer shit past about age nine. I’m guess that means that Sebastian and Marcel hit their productive apex at this point, somewhere around the end of the U-10 season when they had the banquet at the local Chuck E. Cheese.

Sebastian drank for the first time at 11 and lost his virginity at 12. Pictures of him then show him clearly intoxicated. The family glosses over it all saying "Sebastian loved to have fun and was very popular and always had good looking girlfriends. Marcel loved to hang out with him." Perfect.

sebastian high around 13
Nice hair. Don’t overlook this parents.

There’s the storyline where Sebastian was in seventh grade (age 12) and asked to leave school (translation: expelled) for possession of marijuana. Senor Dumbfuckenablertard explains it thusly:

"Sebastian was standing outside the bathroom and a girl ran up to him, handed him something and said ‘hide this for me,’ which he did. He’s a good guy." Mom added "Sebastian told us it wasn’t his marijuana, and at that point, we believe him."

Awesome.

JR (the unloved fat older brother) told the parents it was Sebastian’s pot. Dad’s response?

"I didn’t believe him. I thought he was talking trash about his brother."

Awesome again. I’m surprised this older brother didn’t change his last name to Menendez and buy some ice cream and a double barreled shotgun.

There are further tales of Sebastian not getting his way and throwing fits, terrorizing the house, etc., and Marcel being "sucked into the vortex of Sebastian." Mom referred to it as "The Uprising." Translation: Everyone’s too busy to parent this little fuck.

At 14 Sebastian tried meth for the first time, although I’m sure if you asked him or his dad, they’d say that it wasn’t his meth and that he just fell on a lit pipe that happened to have a rock stuck in it. You know, because he’s so popular and such a good kid.

Dad then said he noticed "things starting to disappear from the house." I assume that means Sebastian was stealing and pawning stuff for drug money, but dad probably thinks that that scary doll Chucky or the Great Gazoo or some shit was hiding it all.

So at 15, Sebastian went to rehab in Chile for six months.

And since everyone was so exhausted from not doing shit to parent Sebastian that they pretty much ignored Marcel who, while Sebas was in rehab, tried coke, xanax, extacy and oxycontin.

That’s right. at 13 and a half, Marcel spread his wings with more drugs than Keith Richards would do at one time all mixed together.

As is the case in most walks of life, few people strive to be with their betters. Most folks will sink to be with their lessers. That’s the case with everyone here. And here’s where Sebastian returns from rehab.

So now the two boys live free at home while moving a grand or more of heroin a day, at times with mom watching from the window, and still, there’s not even a hint of the parents wanting to do shit about it.

Meanwhile, the unloved bookish older son who lives somewhere else on his own (a novel idea) is repeatedly shunned and, at one point, told to leave the house if he’s going to continue to speak poorly of his brothers.

And all the while said brothers are in a heroin-induced fog so deep that they literally can’t keep their eyes open or speak.

So mom finally begins to see what’s going on. She must be a detective or have recently completed CSI-No shit Dick Tracy training, because she tells dad she can’t take it anymore and that she wants to put them out of the house.

I’m paraphrasing here, but dad’s rational for not kicking them out is "if they were sick or had a disease, you would kick them out into the street?"

My reply to that was no I would not. But if my son had cancer, I wouldn’t lend him my car so he could steal shit from me to pawn downtown so he could buy more cancer either.

At this point in the show I’m literally laughing my ass off. The wife too. It was so bad that I finally had to call LAB aka Midlife Mediocrity to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating the awesomeness of this episode. She assured me that I wasn’t, but we couldn’t stay on the phone because we were 30 minutes behind her in the viewing, and she was just tipsy enough that I was worried she’d spoil the ending for me.

So as the parents head for the pre-intervention, someone breaks into their house to find Dumb and Dumber’s stash, which they did. That led to Sebastian’s declaration that these offenders were in trouble since they left their blood on the floor in his house.

I guess while he was dropping out of seventh grade and doing rehab in South America, Sebastian secretly took some DNA training from the OJ trial’s own DNA expert, Dr. HenryLee.

Note: Everyone on this show calls each other "Bro," which drives me nuts. It’s like a combination of a 1970’s black comedy and Baywatch.

Oh, and one of the first things I noticed when Sebastian entered the Intervention room was his WWJD bracelet. I assume that stands for "What Would (a) Judge Do" in case he and the other idiot got caught.

So Marcel agrees to go to rehab and Sebastian ultimately relents as well. They both went to different places and the family agreed to go to the Betty Ford Clinic which I’m guessing is to see if they have a cure for Denialandenablerosis.

Sebastian is going to some medical detox in Florida after which he will enter rehab at Ambrosia at the Palm Beaches in Singer Island Florida. Here’s a pic from his intake:

Ambrosia at the Palm Beaches? What the fuck is that? I’m pretty sure I could do coke off a stripper’s ass at a place like that. Shouldn’t it be called something like "You’ve fucked up for the last time" or something? This always confuses me.

Marcel is going to the Ark of Littlewood Cottonwood in Sandy, Utah. I assume this place is where Bre’r Bear and Bre’r Rabbit vacation when their not telling racist children’s stories. Here’s his admit pic:

Oh, and Marcel continues his douchey apparel streak when to the ensemble of cargo shorts and the fucking hat, he adds the sleep pillow / neck ring thing for the plane. Only he never takes it off up to and including his admission to detox. It’s like he thinks it’s a huge pooka shell necklace or something.

But my favorite part of Intervention is the last few screenshots which I won’t spoil by commenting. Only know that the episode aired on Monday, August 10th, 2009.

So when it was all said and done, both of them left treatment, one officially relapsed, and they both moved home.

I guess mom’s threats to leave, move back to Chile, call the police, have them search the house, get restraining orders, and evict the kids might not have had the umph of follow thru that one might expect from parents who’ve shown consistency at making rules, enforcing them and demonstrating ramifications for one’s actions.

I look forward to more entertainment and inspration in the very near future.

Oh, and as a special gift to those that saw this episode, I give you this:

Where's Marcel?

**********************************************************

Edit to add:

These screen caps of the end credits looked different and I recalled drastically
different information than I got from the A&E website.  I went back to the recording of Marcel and Sebastian’s Intervention and proved myself right.  I don’t have screen caps, but HERE is what the closing shots actually said:

"Sebastian and Marcel both dropped out of treatment early and relapsed with Xanax and Heroin."

"Sebastian and Marcel’s family attended the Betty Ford Center’s Family Program."

"Sebastian returned to treatment at A Sober Way Home in Prescott, Arizona and has been sober since August 2nd, 2009."

"Marcel lives at home and continues to use Xanax."

One of the main reasons I’m adding this part is that this episode contains one of my favorite elements of the show.  It’s very rare, but it makes me laugh every time.  Every. Single. Time.

This episode aired on August 17, 2009.  Sebastian "has been sober since August 2nd, 2009."

Really?  Fifteen whole days?  Why not make it more pathetic and say "Sebbastian has been sober since a week ago Tuesday."  And for all we know, you canned this thing and don’t know that last Friday afternoon, Sebastian left rehab again and is shooting Meth and Red Bull into his eyelids.

Sweet Lord how I love Intervention.

25
Jun

You know what they say about the best laid plans…

I was all set to be funny and / or witty and / or deep or whatever today, and then fate stepped in and threw me a hanging curve.

Michael Jackson is dead. And do you know what I say to that?

Good.

Was he talented? Of couse.

Did he change pop music forever? Absolutely.

Did he change how music videos were made / aired / viewed? Without question.

Was he tormented by the weight of being that famous at such a young age? I’m sure.

Did having abusive parents affect him? No doubt about it.

But at the end of the day, humans are responsible for their own actions. And I don’t think there’s any question that Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, was a child molester and a pedophile.

We can quibble back and forth about it having never been proven, about inuendo and false accusations. But here’s what I know.

A person accused of anything that isn’t true and is potentially slanderous or libelous can sue his or her accuser. That’s what innocent people do.

I don’t want to hear shit about "He was never convicted." Roger Clemens swore up and down he’d never done steroids. Hell, he perjured himself in front of congress about it. But did he sue his accuser?

No.

Because he knows that he’s guilty.

That’s how our system works. I don’t want to hear any shit about Michael being a target because he was wealthy and popular, blah blah blah.

He was a target because he did it. And we as a society let him.

How?

By airing special after special about him hanging out with all children, sleeping or "spending the night" with children, etc. It went on for 20 years and we all said "Awwww…Michael’s so sweet and he sings so nice and he loves kids. I’m sure that’s all just a coincidence."

Except it wasn’t.

And as details came out years later, it turns out that the shitty parents of a helpless kid basically sold their son’s innocence and possibly sanity to Michael Jackson and his penis for some undisclosed sum of money.

And we all sat back and said "Disgusting.  Those people are taking advantage of Michael because he’s famous."

No. They were taking advantage of him because they let him diddle their kid.

If you are a vagrant and wander on to a playground or public park and put your dick in a kid’s mouth, you go to jail, serve time, and possibly die at the hands of your fellow inmates.

If you sell fifty bojillion records and put your dick in a kid’s mouth (or a bunch of kids’ mouths), you’re a  victim, your misunderstood, and in some people’s eyes, you’re even a martyr.

I say fuck all of that.  And fuck you Michael Jackson.  You managed to set the movement of children reporting molesters to adults back about 30 years.

I hope you rot you fucker.

20
Mar

Putting my finger in the dike.

I just read that, and I giggled.  Sorry.

I’m serious about putting my finger in the dike in an effort to stop the potential flood that could result in the death of Facebook, at least in my eyes.

Let me preface this by saying that I have really enjoyed Facebook.  From the funny re-telling of stories to awkward moments when you put your foot in your mouth. (Sorry Tracy).

I also like some of the quizzes about my taste in music, sports, things I know about my spouse, etc.  Those are fun.

But in the last two weeks, a trouble trend has reared its ugly head:

The "What (insert something) am I?"

That sounded gross.  Let me try that again.

I’m drowning in "Which President are you?" and "Which type of woman are you?" and "What does your birthday say about you?" and "What song illustrates your life?" and "Which Beatles album are you?" and "What kind of car are you?" and "Where should you be living?" and "How many kids should you have?" and "Who is your favorite NKOTB ?" and so forth.

You get the point.

One of the main reasons I like Facebook and despise MySpace is that it is more personal than MySpace and less retarded than Twitter.  There’s not this public and sometimes anonymous river of shit I don’t care about to wade thru to get to the stuff that I enjoy.

I guess that’s a me problem though.  If I don’t like it, I guess I can either lump it or I can go somewhere else.

But I don’t want to lump it and I don’t want to go somewhere else.  Maybe while the powers that be are fucking up the Facebook front page experience, they could create some sub-pages where, if a user is so inclined, they can go to see any one of those "Which Power Ranger are you?" quizzes.

Or, create a sub-page where users can go to just see status updates and the resultant commentary.  Or allow a clickable option that says "Yes, I’d like the live feed, but I do not want to see (insert topic or post type here).  But it’s gotten to be way too big of a pain in the ass to track active conversations and keep up with responses.

I know this sounds like the picking of nits, and usually I’m the first guy to say "Hey, it’s free.  If you don’t like it, lump it.  And fuck yourself."  But this is different.  Maybe.

Anybody else feeling this way?

Let me know what you think.

All my love,

FRT

24
Feb

Facebook

I signed up for Facebook the first time about 18 months ago or so.  It seemed a lot of people were on it.  Sadly, no one I knew was.

Let me say this about social networking on the information super worldwide highway.  I hate it.  I take that back.  I hated it.  everyone was running around yukking it up about MySpace, and I thought MySace sucked.  MySpace has proven time and time again to be the vast wasteland of pedophilia, random spamming and nothing of any real use.  There’ve been moms guilty of making their daughters’ rivals commit suicide, there’ve been breakups, pedophile-arranged meetings with kids whose parents should know what 14 year olds are doing on the internet, etc.

All it consisted of was people making eye-gougingingly ugly and retarded themes that weren’t well designed, didn’t fit the page, had pathetic content and nothing ever happened.  It was instant messaging with a music video or something attached, or some punk ass posting "Yo! Hit me up!" all over the place, hoping to have the most MySpace pals of all.

No thank you.

So this fall, I started getting emails about folks friending me in Facebook.  I thought the term "friending" was gay.  I thought the process of friending was gay.  And after seeing THIS youtube video , I thought "Well, here’s another web app that’s all the rage that will flame out quicker than Geocities."

But I have to admit I was wrong.

In the months that followed, I was friended by and talked with many people I hadn’t talked to in a long time, and in some cases, a VERY long time.  I also found that people I knew seemed to know other people I knew but neither knew that the other knew me.

To that end, I want to talk about some of my odder Facebook experiences as they relate to Friendings (which I guess is what I will call it now), and would be interested in hearing about yours.

I’ll also tell you the stuff I like about Facebook outside of the people part.  And I’ll tell you about the stuff I don’t like.

The first odd Friending I had / made / did (or whatever the fuck that would be called), was with a girl I met in line while trying to early vote.

** Sidenote:  I’m 40.  Why do I still refer to adult females as girls?  Shouldn’t I say woman?  I think I refer to all females my age and under as girls and the ones that are older than me as women.  Is that wrong?  **

So as I was meandering in line for SEVEN FREAKING HOURS, it was inevitable that you would begin making small talk with a few people in front of and behind you to pass the time.

After a few hours I had learned that this girl was a mother of three going thru or getting a divorce.  She had a three kids (I’ll keep specifics out for privacy’s sake) and around lunchtime, I found that despite our similar places in life, she was now my personal and official vote cancel outer.

We discussed lots of issues quite calmly (unlike the koolade drinkers around us), talked about kids, families, and other small talk.  And then, sometime around lunch (I ordered a couple of pizzas from my friend’s pizza establishment to share with some of my voting friends, and he delivered four and said I could pay whenever as I had no money or checks), she found out that she had to leave since her ex or about to be ex couldn’t watch the kids anymore.

I said that it was nice meeting her and she pulled out her iPhone and said "Are you on facebook?"

I said yeah, told her my name and she added me.

Since then, we’ve talked occasionally about a variety of things from the octo-mom, politics, her child that was in Scotish Rite for a few days, mutual acquaintances, etc.  If it were ten or twenty years ago, we wouldn’t have exchanged numbers and stayed in touch, but Facebook makes that easier.

Another odd one was a guy I threw darts with and against back in the day in the Buckhead Dart League .  He threw on a team out of a bar where we’d become friends with the owner, and we always had a great time with them.

So out of the blue, I get a friend request from this guy.  I say sure, and then I see "Friends you have in common" and the girl I mentioned above is listed.

WTF?

So I ask her, and she says they went to high school together.  Made me laugh a couple times, that did.

The other two really bizarre ones were from people I knew in college.

I’ll preface this by saying I wasn’t the person that had 6,000 friends at college.  We had a group of about ten of us that hung out together and another ten or so girls that were associated by fraternity affiliation, roommates of girlfriends, etc. I liken my college experience and the time after to the movie "The Big Chill," in that I haven’t stayed close and in touch with those people, but we shared a closeness way back then that kind of bonds us.

Anyway, "Fred" was a fraternity brother of two of my roommates.  As they were in the same pledge class, they hung out together and, when not at the house, we all hung out together.  Fred had a cool condo and was a nice kid that had never consumed so much as communion wine to the best of my knowledge.  We did our best to corrupt him, but more or less failed.

The last time I’d seen Fred was in ‘96 at a football game.  Nothing since.

One morning about a month ago, I was getting ready for work and said to myself "Hey, I think I’ll look up Fred today."

Fast forward fifteen minutes, and as I’m on my way to work I get an email saying "Fred" has friended you.

Insert twilight zone theme here.

We talked a good bit and caught up on folks we knew, work, families, etc., and it was nice.

(As you may notice, I’m a pretty good reminiscer, as if that’s actually a word).

I also found my freshman year roommate thru his younger brother on Facebook.  His younger brother was about 7 or so when we were in college, but Michael was nice enough to update me on Rob and even sent me an e-mail address for him.

I found Matt from Falmouth, MA who went on to become a Vet and had a big family, not unlike the one he came from.  I’ve looked for other folks, but had not much luck.

But the one most folks find strangest is this one.

My now wife and I broke up when I went to college.  I know that’s a shocker.  Dude goes to college and breaks up with girlfriend for greener grass.  Blah blah blah.

During the two years between when I went to college and when she and I got back together, I dated a girl for about a year or so.  She was roommates with a girl one of my roommates was dating.

It was as serious as a one year relationship at college could be, but I wasn’t ready to commit (or at least not to her it would seem), so we broke it off and that was that.  We’d see each other occasionally on campus and were cordial, and then everyone went on with their lives.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I am Facebooking away and decide to look up some folks from college.  So I throw her name in there and there she is.  After a brief pause, I click the "Friend insert name here."

I expect no response.  I mean, I wasn’t the best boyfriend ever, it had been twenty years and in the end, clicking "Ignore" is pretty easy.

But she didn’t.

So we ended up catching up via Facebook chat. I talked to GBD about it to make sure she didn’t mind, which of course she didn’t.  She knows I’m reminiscy (again, not a word) about school, so no big deal.

So we talked about our respective roommates and the stuff we’d learned or heard about all of them since college, we caught up on our families, especially our kids, and were talking about our respective marriages.  She knew GBD at least a little bit while we were at college, and I told her that it sounded like we’d both done well in the spouse department, and she replied simply "Looks can be very deceiving."

So I ask, and she tells me why her marriage isn’t as super as it looks.  I’m leaving out the details for deniability just in case.

I feel terrible for her.  She’s a nice person.  Although her parents are not far away, she’s more or less alone.  She is from a small town.  Although she lives in a big town now, she doesn’t have a big pile of friends.  She has a couple, but for one reason or another she can’t confide in them the entire story, so I told her she could tell me. I mean, who was I gonna tell?

So she did.  She asked for my opinion about stuff, vented about stuff, and was able to just talk thru the circles and questions one has to talk thru when this happens in one’s life. It always comes back to the same thing, and it’s not "Can you forgive?"

It’s "Can you forget?"

After some serious deliberation and consideration for the kids, herself, and even him (although he doesn’t deserve it), she decided that she couldn’t, and that it was time for a divorce.

So now it’s a whirlwind of lawyers, papers, bank stuff, kid stuff, assets, houses, blah blah blah.  But in the end, it’s the fact that a nice girl that I knew in college is in a really bad place and wants to be able to put her kids to bed and then vent about this stuff without poisoning them or worrying about which friend of theirs she can talk to and which ones she can’t.  So I let her tell me.

The reason I tell you this story is that I’ve told it to other people I know, and the vast majority think it’s wrong and terrible and evil that I’m in contact with this person.  I disagree (obviously) but I’d like to know what you think.

(Insert awkward transition here)

Which brings me to the stuff that i like and don’t like about Facebook.  Here are my likes:

Mob Wars, Metropolis, Writing on peoples’ wall, scrabble, status updates, kid pictures and high school and college pictures.

Here are the things I don’t like:

Flair.  Every app saying I need to grant access and wanting to post updates on everything I or anyone else does, 99.999% of the groups and causes, the dumbass ads on the side, especially the jerkoff in the wife beater sitting in a Ferrari saying "I only have a GED and I make a grand a day."  I don’t like every single app saying "Invite your friends to…"  I don’t like when people leave the IS at the beginning of their status update so it says "Joe is went to the mall."  I don’t like that people don’t know the difference between sending a message and writing on a wall (WHICH IS PUBLIC)!

So Facebookers, what do you like or not like?

26
Jan

I’d like to make a few requests of the 4th estate

If you are a friend of mine that would be reading this, one would deduce that you’re probably dumb and you don’t know what the fourth estate is, let alone what it means.

I don’t even know what it means.  I know what it is though.  It’s the media.  I will now pause to Wikipedia the fourth estate to see what it means and how it got that name.

(Insert Michael Bolton hold music here)

Here’s the first part:

Novelist Jeffrey Archer in his work The Fourth Estate made the observation: "In May 1789 , Louis XVI summoned to Versailles a full meeting of the ‘Estates General ‘. The First Estate consisted of three hundred clergy. The Second Estate, three hundred nobles. The Third Estate, six hundred commoners. Some years later, after the French Revolution , Edmund Burke , looking up at the Press Gallery of the House of Commons, said, ‘Yonder sits the Fourth Estate, and they are more important than them all.’"

Well.  That was incredibly boring.  Let’s move along now.

Today I opened FoxNews.com to check what was happening around the world and with Sean Hannity.  And Cayley Anthony.  Instead, I was greeted with this haunting image:

Sweet jesus, I'm blind!

Now listen to me when I tell you that there should be a "click here to continue to image" warning here.  I shouldn’t have to see that unless I agree to do so.  Unless the story headline was "ER doctors remove folding chair from humongous woman’s rectum."

That said, I’d like to issue a sort of Media Bill of Rights that I’d like all newspapers and websites to agree to live by for the rest of my life.

  1. If you’re doing a generic story about fat people, you can quit with the man on the street sternum to knee footage of random fatasses waddling down the street.  We get it.  They’re fat.  Unless the story is about a specific fat person, then no imagery is needed.
  2. People coming on to do interviews about some topic can’t "no comment" said topic.  You were invited to talk about subject X.  If you say "I can’t talk about that," or "I was advised not to discuss that," then you’re an asshole.  You are there to be interviewed about X and if you aren’t answering, stay home and leave me more time to fantasize about Kathy Lee Gifford in her twenties.
  3. Either stop uber-dramatizing the story when a cute white girl disappears and gets killed or also cover the story when ugly or minority kids suffer the same fate.  If I have to listen to Nancy fucking Grace wax all poetic again, I may vomit.
  4. addendum to number three:  When Nancy Grace goes missing and is found floating face down in some well in Aruba, you can sensationalize that story all you want.
  5. Stop saying "Suicide Bomber."  That’s not accurate.  If you blow yourself in an outhouse, that’s a suicide bomber.  If you strap yourself full of C4 and ride a bike into a schoolyard and pull the det cord, that’s homicide.  What happens to the bomber is irrelevant and is similar to "suicide by cop."
  6. Stop the retarded celebrity stalking nonsense.  The world will still spin if I don’t know that Britney stopped at quick trip for a corn dog and BM.
  7. Cancel local news altogether.  It is completely worthless.  Just run weather and traffic.  The big boys are better at everything else.
  8. Please stop pandering to the dumb.  Hatespeak is easy.  Using your brain is hard.  Send Coulter and Limbaugh and Hannity away.  I mean, at least Al Franken is funny sometimes.  I’m surprised the other three don’t drown in their own bile.  Replace them all with Neal Boortz.
  9. Stop being retarded about the Fair Tax / Flat Tax / Consumption Tax or whatever you want to call it.  You and everyone else knows that taxing income instead of consumption is the deathknell of capitalism.
  10. Act more like the European British media and show hot chicks and their boobies.  I don’t have a use for my local paper now, but I would buy a subscription if there were boobies.

So there we are.  I think if you jackholes would adopt the above, the world would be a better place.

p.s. If Lindsay Lohan forgets her bra, walks around in a bikini or suddenly goes publicly hardcore lesbo, you are free to publish any and all of it.  Or you can just mail it to me.  That’d be just as good.

Sincerely,

FRT




 

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