I’m just gonna kill what’s left of my street cred — so feel free to pounce on top of me and whatever is left of the remains of my cremated dignity. I know I should be totally barfing all over Colbie Caillat’s Bubbly — and perhaps I will in due time — but I really like the sound of her voice; and she actually can play a guitar. Please God, let me hate this song! It’s all I’m asking of you.
Somebody, tell me the rest of her album sucks so I won’t wanna listen to it! Oh, sweet Jesus, it’s too late… I just sampled her Myspace tunes and her voice is too beautiful… I can’t help myself. I want some of the candy. Oh, don’t let me do this people! Geez, she even sings cute Disney songs. Her clairvoyance is eating me up inside… how does she know I just wanna Kiss the Girl? It’s over for me… manhood erased. Why do you look so cute and happy? Why is your name spelled with the i-e? The feel good music has arrested my soul!! I can’t take this!! I know after I put Kid Rock on blast for All Summer Long, there aren’t a lot of appreciators out there for my music reviews. So, I’m gonna reverse the negative trend, and give this tune a heaping helping of lima beans! Oh, how I love the happy songs!! Yay!! I feel pretty!!
“I’m so in love with you, I don’t know what to do this time
And though you’re out of sight, you’re never ever out of my mind.
I saw you just the other day, those feelings never went away
And I smiled”
Well, if you’ve been paying attention, LA Galaxy star David Beckham recently said he thought Zinedine Zidane was the greatest player of all time. Was anyone a little surprised by this? There have been so many great players over the years. Who would you choose as the best ever?
Beckham was also quoted as saying that Cristiano Ronaldo should go play for Real Madrid. That probably won’t sit too well with the folks at Old Trafford. What is Beckham’s motivation for saying this? Lingering bad blood with Man U? Or is Real Madrid the premier team in the world?
Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the prettiest player of them all?
“Yellow man in Timbuktu
Colour for both me and you
Kung fu fighting
Dancing queen
Travel spaceman
And all that’s in between
Colours of the world
Spice up your life
Every boy and every girl
Spice up your life
People of the world
Spice up your life
Aaahh!!!”
LA Galaxy supernova David Beckham recently surprised the soccer world when he was quoted as saying Zinedine Zidane was the best player ever. So I thought to myself… who do I think was the greatest player to ever step on the pitch? I went back and forth over Pele and Maradona. I thought too perhaps, that Eusebio and Cruyff should be in the discussion. And I really like to watch old highlights of George Best. But I decided that my favorite player in the history of soccer is my former teammate Cary, from the All-Stars of the Asheville Buncombe over-30 B Leaue.
Cary doesn’t have a cool-sounding name, and hasn’t dramatically headbutted anyone in the World Cup. But one time, he did this move that helped us coin the “ground header.” He was totally laying on the ground, and just flung his head at the ball in a desperate attempt to do something about something — not sure exactly. But after the game, I was so like, “dude, I wanna be like you. I’m naming my firstborn Cary.” Quite honestly, it was the most righteous, incredible move I have ever seen in all my years of soccer — even better than that time I caught the ball between my knees during a game. Look, you gotta have some serious cajones to head a ball on the ground when someone could easily plant their cleat into your skull and smash your brains in — a sure-fire career killer. I mean, this dude Tyler once tried to save a goal while running down a guy on a breakaway by diving head first at the back of his heels, but it was nothing like Cary’s patented play. Tyler missed the guy’s feet by a country mile, and they still scored, but damn, it was beautiful too, I guess.
The other remarkable thing about Cary is that he never seems to get hurt while the rest of us limp around with sports hernias, torn meniscuses, heel spurs, broken ribs… you name it. To train with Cary has been a dream. He doesn’t whine and bitch like the rest of those soccer primadonnas in the league. Well, sometimes he whines and bitches, but he still doesn’t really give a shit — if you know what I mean. And that is why Cary is the greatest player of all time — to me.
Despite living in Hollywood, Beckham apparently has denied that he wants to become an actor. I’m not really buying it though. I heard his favorite actor is Jean-Claude Van Damme, but my source was only some dude who says he knows a guy who knows the chick who orders Beckham’s shoes or something.
“People disagreeing everywhere you look,
Makes you wanna stop and read a book.
Why only yesterday I saw somebody on the street
That was really shook.
But this ol’ river keeps on rollin’, though,
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow,
And as long as it does I’ll just sit here
And watch the river flow.”
I’m feeling a little more A.D.D. than usual today. And being the super-spaz child that I am inside, I’m looking for answers to a thousand (and one) questions. Discuss amongst yourselves… please help me answer my most pressing doubts, concerns, and fears. Take your time… this is one of those new age classrooms where we give you all the time you need to finish your work…
2) How awful will Michigan be with Rich Rodriguez this season? 2a) How good will West Virginia be without RR? 3A) Will WVU take the buyout settlement cash and celebrate all the victories RR gave them?
3) Will Aaron Rodgers officially retire this season in Brett Favre’s shadow? 3A) When Favre sent a text message to Ted Thompson, did the Packers GM reply with WTF, OMFG, STFU, or TTYL?
4) Will Detroit declare Kid Rock its own Johnny Cash after his All Summer Long smash hit?
5) If the Yankees manage to earn a playoff spot, will the New York Post call it the Sticky & Sweet Tour? 5A) Will Jeter stop playing hard to get now?
6) When we’re all homeless during the NBA finals next year, will illegal immigrants teach us to grow and pick our own vegetables — or will they hold a grudge?
8.5) When the Cubs lose in the playoffs, who will dress up as the scapegoat mascot?
9) Will people stop pretending that tennis is exciting to watch on TV? 9A) If there were a grunt-off in women’s tennis, who would win Wimbledon? 9B) Is the art of grunting more valuable on clay or grass?
10) If the price of gas keeps climbing, will we have the pleasure of seeing less Nascar? 10A) Is it o.k. to discriminate against racing or is that reverse racism?
11) If two lesbians are making out at the ballpark, do you alert security or just pretend you’re in the porno Where’s the Italian Sausage?
12) If the aging veteran McCain knocks off diaper dandy Barack Obama this fall in the presidential finals, will he get a shoe deal from the Capitol Senior Living Center?
13) If no one is there to see it, does the NHL really make a noise when it falls in the woods?
14) If horse racing were banned, would anyone actually consider living in Kentucky?
15) Will Congress investigate performance enhancing vocals on pop radio?
“You’re looking down again
and then you look me over
we’re laying down again
on a blanket in the clover
the same boy you’ve always known
well I guess I haven’t grown”– jack white III
OK, this is going to be a pretty serious diatribe, mainly about the musical desecration that Kid Rock has graced us with in 2008. First and foremost, I don’t enjoy being a critic unless it is warranted. And this is a moment where I have witnessed another atrocity in the world of music, further driving home my point that musical taste has decayed into oblivion, causing me to think about chopping off my penis. But someone has already taken that joy away from me by whacking off his schlong and documenting it so carefully — which leaves me to deal with my own spiritual suffering. So my dear music lovers from far and wide, I am imploring radio stations across the world to stop playing Kid Rock’s All Summer Long (for the rest of the summer and all of eternity) from the Rock N Roll Jesus album…
Just based off the song alone, this should have been entitled Rock N Roll Judas. But in an effort to be fair and open minded, I watched one minute and 30 seconds of the video (all I could take) which was equally pukerrific as the song. And it made me hate summer! Which used to be a season I loved almost as much as spring! Go ahead and read the glowing commentary on Youtube about how this little number is so “catchy.” Why does it sound so damn catchy? Because it is a composition of two hits by someone else!!!!!! Wake up America!!!!!! (For those of you scoring at home, “Wake up America!” is my new homeland security system/slogan when I get pissed off about something really trivial.)
I don’t know if Kid Rock still knocks down “whiskey out the bottle,” but I do know this is a public urination on dead people — whether inspired by a drunken fantasy or not. Lifting Warren Zevon’s Werewolves in London and Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama — while inserting ridiculously cheesy lyrics — doesn’t make a song. He could have pissed on Zevon’s casket and it would have been less offensive than this annoying monstrosity. I heard Zevon’s original playing today as I was about to eat lunch, and I prayed with all of my might to the real Rock N Roll Jesus that it wasn’t the Kid Rock tune.
The only message that I could get behind in the song was an utterrance about “we didn’t have no internet,” which I could at least appreciate since I’m blogging away in all my fury. In all its crapdom, maybe this little ditty was supposed to be some bizarre tribute to Zevon/Skynyrd, while purveying the sheer shallow and backwards innocence of high school?
Anthony Decurtis gave this review in Rolling Stone:
“As he well knows — and Rock N Roll Jesus proves — roaring guitars, truckloads of attitude and an unquenchable lust for life make up for a multitude of sins.”
Basically, I guess Decurtis is saying, that if you play real fucking loud, all is forgiven! I was having some kind of Spinal Tap moment when I read that. Mabye this album “goes to eleven.” I can dig that honesty I guess. Well, this dreadful song doesn’t make up for its sins — such as ripping off Zevon and Skynyrd, then calling it your own. I hate “sampling” or whatever plagiaristic form of musical looping this is defined as among the geniuses at Atlantic Records. I wouldn’t listen to the rest of the album (even if I owned it) after hearing this song. Well, the tune entitled So Hott (that’s with a double t) does sound very Paris Hiltonish, so I might be able to groove to that one.
As my new friend Sara so poignantly exclaimed, “I just want some music that doesn’t suck.” I wanted to tell Sara that everything is okay. But I knew it wasn’t; not by a long shot. Unfortunately, people keep paying for unoriginal, trite symphonies of yuckety-yuck blah. Enough American Idol! I tried to restore Sara’s faith in humanity by turning her onto Peter Cooper, and I reiterated that Tommy Womack was still playing in my car (for about the tenth week in a row). It’s all I could do to stave off her musical depression, but I knew she was right — because there is not enough music on the radio that doesn’t suck.
Kid Rock fans, I’m not picking on the man solely. It’s just a symptom of the industry, and I don’t want to direct all of my animosity his way — since the man has to get paid. But I speak the truth. You can see it in Nashville too — where country music has become a total mockery of itself. Quite frankly, I want to put a boot up its ass. I mean hey, What Would Toby Do? I remember when Jack White complained about the lack of radio play for Loretta Lynn’s Van Lear Rose (an album he produced) a few years back, while mentioning that Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) could be heard incessantly on country radio. And Jack was right… except instead, Toby Keith is played 15 times a day on local radio stations everywhere, while the real Nashville musician struggles to get a paycheck.
I have written a lot of garbage in my time — and I plan to again (if not today) — which means I can see clearly on these matters. But I guess you still must take my critique with a grain of salt since my only real musical talents involve playing my Yairi Alvarez very badly, and singing obnoxiously loud, as only I can. However, I don’t usually get paid for it — which is how it should be!
Once I go to the ballpark, I will know the absolute truth about All Summer Long. If it is blasting loudly as Joe So & So steps up to the plate, I will have corroborating evidence that this song smells wonderturdly like an awful brand of unholy, new millennium teen spirit.
“Raspberry, strawberry, lemon and lime
What do I care?
Blueberry, apple, cherry, pumpkin and plum
Call me for dinner, honey, I’ll be there
Saddle me up my big white goose
Tie me on ‘er and turn her loose
Oh me, oh my
Love that country pie
I don’t need much and that ain’t no lie
Ain’t runnin’ any race
Give to me my country pie
I won’t throw it up in anybody’s face”
Carolinians are apparently dismayed about WTF appearing on their plates, which has made the NCDMV commissioner feel inside — and confused — especially since the dirty message was found on sample plates, on the agency’s website.
“Obviously, I didn’t know it was there,” said commish Bill Gore. Well, of course you didn’t, because when it comes to this newfangled technology jargon, you wouldn’t know your a$$ from a hole in the ground, like me, and a lot of old people. So who gives a flying fuk ya know? Well, I guess a 60-year-old “technology teacher” who relied on her grandchildren to point it out?
The good news is that you can turn in your plate and get another one. But some people are still begging the question, Why couldn’t the grandchildren keep their mouths shut?And what happens when the DMV discovers these license plates? KMA, POS, FCUK, FOS, F4F, and last but not least, the dirtiest of them all… M4M.
Look, I know Andy Griffith is from North Carolina, but it doesn’t mean we need a bunch of Barney Fifes runnin’ around all willy-nilly. WTG Tar Heels! Quick, call the AAAAA (American Assosciation Against Acronym Abuse).
Hey, I wonder if this technology teacher realizes there is a BUSH in the White House. And he’s a real MF. Recall! Citizen’s arrest, citizen’s arrest! Be sure to grab that DICK too, while you’re in there…
FFS, these kids are going to have us on the run by the time we’re really old. I’m seriously worried when the DMV gets a hold of the Internet slang dictionary. Then, we are seriously fukd!!!
So with the lesbian kissing ban goin’ on in Seattle, I got to wonderin’ about whether or not they should play YMCA at the ballpark anymore, because we surely don’t need anything else that feels uncomfortable — shameful even — goin’ on in our baseball stadiums. But I’m a skeezy skeezer and I’m jonesin’ for something fresh, something with a little more flare. I thought maybe — in the interest of expanding our (musical and cultural) horizons — we should consider another hot anthem so I can get my Electric Six fix!!! Yeah!!!
I went to see the Asheville Tourists play tonight and I met up with a friend of mine who is so utterly homophobic that he canceled a date with me a few years ago to see Bridget Jones Diaries — mainly because some other folks bailed out and he thought it looked suspicious. I’m not saying that isn’t a little gay sounding — two heterosexual men going to see a chick flick — but I don’t worry about such nonsense usually. However, I’m still upset that I didn’t get to see Bridget Jones until this year. Where was I going with this? Sorry, I got all hot about Renee for a second and I was having some latent homosexual desires while reminiscing about the canceled date with my friend. I thought it would have been awesome if the A’ville Tourists cranked up Gay Bar instead of YMCA at the game tonight, so my friend could get all uncomfortable, like he does. Look, Asheville is a pretty liberal city, but I bet that would have sent some old folks home in the 4th inning.
Seriously though, doesn’t that make you want to get out of your seats more than the Village People? And I know that little E-6 ditty probably doesn’t get lesbians all lathered up — well, maybe it does I guess… kind of a sexy song if you ask me. I’m pretty sure I could get down to business with it — even while watching Bridget Jones in the background. But anyway, we can’t have an overabundance of girl-on-girl tomfoolery — and a total lack of man-to-man offense — in the cheap seats.
So, I’m petitioning for more Electric Six at the old ball game. I mean, I guess it’s enough excitement already when I have some heteros makin’ out in front of me. Hell, people of any sexual orientation tonguing in public is too hard to handle - because I can’t take the high voltage! But two dudes getting kissy-kissy at the ballyard would be en fuego — especially if it were a couple of teammates in the dugout. It’s my desire…
“San Francisco’s calling us, the Giants and Mets will play
Piazza, New York catcher, are you straight or are you gay?”
Inquiring minds wanna know why it is politically correct to tell someone they look sick and need to gain weight, but it is horribly offensive to call someone a cow — or fat and old! Yes, I’m skinny. Maybe I’m offended by your stupidity in making some wild assumption that I don’t own a mirror.
Personally, I just think the world is fatter than me and perhaps I wear baggy clothing. It doesn’t mean you’re an elephant, but you’re definitely fatter than me. It’s all relative. And I’m not ashamed of that — so you shouldn’t be either.
While we’re on the offensive, I recently realized that some old people — I’m talking people over 50 — want to believe they still look young when they look totally old. They can feel and act young — that’s fine. Sometimes, they actually do look young. But this crotchety old lady in line at the grocery store got her Depends all in a bunch this evening because the young cashier apparently asked her if she got a senior citizen discount. She might have asked her if she needed a bag or called her an old bag… not sure… there was something said about bags, but the girl sounded polite and apologetic. I couldn’t hear real well, but that’s what I got out of the conversation.
Hey, I’ve seen women in their 80s who looked younger than this nasty ‘ole lady. And so she goes on a diatribe saying something to the effect of “you might think I look that old,” while trying to humiliate this poor girl as she continued to offer apologies. She went on to say she had 10 more years left… I assumed she was 50 or so — 52 maybe — and not looking forward to her discounts, but I also thought maybe she had 10 years left above ground. There was no way this lady was in her 40s. I can’t blame the cashier… the lady looked like one of the Golden Girls to me… just imagine if she WAS a senior citizen and the girl didn’t offer the discount. She would have struck her with that cane she was haulin’ around!
All I can say is that I’m glad this lady wasn’t too chunky — because if this girl would have asked if she was pregnant, the old lady would have wrapped her wrinkled hands around her neck and aborted the girl on the spot.
If she wasn’t retired yet, she needed to be — literally speaking of course.
“Take a tip and do yourself a little service
Take a mountain turn it into a mole
Just by playing a different role
Yeah, by playing a different role”
OK, Lima Bean posse, this is where I openly rant about anything and everything affecting our general mental health diet. We’ll call it Organic Sports Therapy…
Grocery bagger guy: I don’t need a bag for a banana dude! And I won’t feed your bagging addiction. Stop being such bagwhores. Baggers everywhere, grocery and retail: Please stop bagging my one item!!! This includes hand fruit, toothpaste, and condoms… maybe I want to put it on my banana in the store. And no, I don’t want my milk in the f#!&ing bag!!! I am protesting your invasive baggery by purchasing two cloth bags. I’m taking my manpurses to all your little shops, buying a tiny item from each of you, and then asking you to put it in my gigantic sack.
Cubs fan: Even though you guys are probably doomed to choke this year, quit whining every time the Cubs drop a ball game. You’ll have plenty of time to whine in October. So for now, leave that up to Cardinal fan who is boo-hooing about injuries, and all the Cards that are with the Cubbies now. If nothing else, just let Sweet Lou shoulder your frustration by going on some kind of crazy press conference tirade; he’d be good at that. It apparently works for Ozzie next door — so just go with it and you’ll put together another nice little streak, making your manager look like some kind of mad genius with coprolalia disorder, who shags blowup dolls.
Boston: Please no more damn contrived drama from any of your teams. You want attention… we get the picture… bloody socks, walking boots, knee knocks… I could go on. If somehow the Bruins make it to the Stanley Cup Finals next year, we don’t want to hear about a miraculous two-day turnaround from any player who had an artery severed by a skate. Enough is enough!
Jesus fish guy: No more damn Jesus bumper stickers on your car dude! Look, Jesus shouldn’t be pimped out on your ride or your license plate. Jesus is suing someone’s ass for trademark infringement and unlicensed use of the chosen one’s name—if they miraculously get to heaven.
Nascar: Stop praying before every race (also see above). When your fans are throwing up in the bathroom on their Dale Jr. t-shirts during lap 156, God is not listening.
Cedric Benson: Please do not enroll in flight school.
Grocery store produce guy: We’re out of fresh lima beans.
“The catcher hits for .318 and catches every day
The pitcher puts religion first and rests on holidays
He goes into cathedrals and lies prostrate on the floor
He knows the drink affects his speed, he’s praying for
a doorway
Back into the life he wants and the confession of the bench
Life outside the diamond is a wrench”
I have a short attention span and don’t always listen real well, so I know that I’m not a woman. But it still makes me wonder what effects there might be from eating women’s breakfast cereals in high doses.
On at least two occasions, I have accidentally purchased snacks and cereals marketed to women. The best I can figure is that I’ve gotten enough folic acid to be ready for any future pregnancy after indulging in Zoe’s O’s and Luna Bars. I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t get enough folic acid — which would explain my obvious brain defects.
Now, I know you’re thinking that I should have noticed the dancing chicks on the packages, but to be fair, the Luna Bar girl — in her stick figure beauty — is a tad androgynous, in my opinion. I guess there is that signature of “The Whole Nutrition Bar For Women,” but sometimes I don’t pay attention so good. I have absolutely no excuses for the Zoe’s O’s blunder, since there is obviously a more womanly-looking character on the box.
I guess my worries escalated when I cried a lot of girly tears while watching the movie Lars and the Real Girl last weekend. It is a pretty deep movie, but it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be concerned about my eating habits — especially after reading an extremely entertaining article about soy making kids fat and gay. And even though I’m a skinny, heterosexual vegetarian, you can’t help but be a little concerned with such investigative reports.
So I have two boxes left of Zoe’s granola cereal, and I thought about whether I should eat the rest; and if I would actually have a nice rack one day. But I figure that I can do a lot for myself by eating all of it, and finding out what it feels like to be a fat, lipstick lesbian.
“Well I’m finding it harder
to be a gentleman every day
all the manners that I’ve been taught
have slowly died away
but if I held the door open for you
It wouldn’t make your day”
inside — and confused — especially since the dirty message was found on sample plates, on the agency’s website.