I thought my mind had been blown when we got cartooned. Then Sara found out that someone had entered us into LiveJournal popculture notoriety. Witness this dedication! My personal favorite.
Theeeen, as if that wasn't totally dudical, Siddhartha Mitter from WNYC interviewed me, Sara, Baratunde Thurston, and Julie Klausner. You can catch it online!
But then shit got REALLY crunk because The New Yorker invited us to work their festival this weekend which meant we got into a super swank opening party resulting in amazingness.
Yes, Sara has blogged about it because she is not full of molasses like sorry ole me, but the following ensued (after a lot of champagne):
1. I told author Jeffrey Eugenides (author of Virgin Suicides and Middlesex): “I really loved Middlesex. I have read it repeatedly, and I really relate to it, although I’m not a hermaphrodite.”
2. I thrust a drunken fist in the air at the sight of Alan Cumming's Barack the Vote tshirt and he gave me a peace sign. LOVE.
3. I witnessed a very pretty, very tiny Regina Specktor talking to a trio of hipster douchebags.
4. Sam and I rode the elevator up with Oliver Stone and his posse.
5. Salman Rushdie was walking around and I had to restrain myself (I was only 2 champagnes in so this was still possible) from whispering to him "Padma's a bitch" and then running out of the room.
6. On the walk up Park Avenue towards our homeland, Istarted playing with garbage, including a discarded bra and a shoe, and threw them in the air because I was feeling like Mary Fucking Tyler Moore:
7. Ended up sitting on a sofa across from WESCRAVEN and his amazing, beautiful, warm, friendly wife Iya Labunka (producer on Heathers) and having a butt ass long conversation full of wonder. Highlights included:
- Telling Wes Craven: "My brothers got years of mileage terrifying me with fanfic enchanced Freddy Krueger stories, 'SO THANKS A LOT, WES!'"
- Calling him WESCRAVEN at every possible opportunity.
- Talking about zero gravity sex (Buzz, Neil, we all agreed you probably cranked one off in space).
- Hearing the awesome tale of how Iya and Wes met.
That was pretty much the best party I ever went to. It was also very pretty in that hotel with light bulbs on the ceiling.
And the next day we got to perform at the New Yorker Festival's Humor Panel for 350 people. We were the fluffers for the panel. Witness the happiness.
WITNESS US MEETING Samantha Bee, who is soooo funny and nice in person (and even prettier).
If you thought the story was going to stop here, you were wrong. Because then, by some miracle, we got to meet Margaret Cho that same night. I have the pictures to prove it.
I'm not quite sure how a weekend like that can be topped!
I knew this day would come sooner or later, but it still came too soon. Sophia Petrillo, otherwise known as Estelle Getty has died.
I wish I could create a netherworld where people like Estelle could frolick and roam free. She was one of the funniest women ever on TV. Remember when she tried to get the toilet installed in the living room? How about when she ragged on Blanche's tiny rack? LOVED HER.
I hope that I'm wrong and there is a Magic Pony Fairy Kitty Princess Land where old broads like you get to eat cheesecake out on the lanai for all eternity. You ruled.
Obama has Larry David (can that possibly lead to anything good), Huckabee has Chuck Norris, and John McCain has landed the biggest one of them all...WILFORD BRIMLEY. I want so much out of this union. I'm picturing McCain and Brimley propped up on matching horses in the middle of the Arizona desert (Wilford required five Mexicans and a series of levers and pullies), their dual silhouettes dark against the blazing orange sunset. Both of them exchanging advice regarding Liberty Mutual supplies and working on policy to get a set of medical supplies to every American in the country, regardless of their diabeetus status. Wilford's Teddy Roosevelt-good looks making McCain appear fresh, youthful. Ah, beauteous.
If you haven't seen this before, you're in for a treat.
That's me this morning and it's not because I ended up in a subway car full of stripping girls like this guy. It's because I clocked in a ten hour sleep fest last night and I'm feeling reborn.
Speaking of stripping on subway cars, it looks like some guy couldn't take seeing girls have all the fun.
He brought his own disco ball, people. But I think the thing that really made me fall in love was his closing line: "Keep your money in your pocket, your erections and your moist panties are thanks enough for me." Despite some faces of discomfort and confusion, Mike's strip tease was relatively hater-free.
I know this video is old, but it transcends time, space, and other internet memes, making it a classic for generations to come. Also, she just stroked out again so I'd like to be pro-active and honor her memory.
Starting around :31 give or take, there are two seconds where by the flash in her bovine eyes you can see that she has forgotten her own name.
File this under reason 12,394 to be happy you're not single.
If you are groggy or stoned please do not read this, I need your complete and sober attention, for my request is uniquely detailed. I am a man, 35, white, black hair with brown eyes. Okay, first what I am looking for is a woman primary, but secondary it could be a woman and her man, but the man will have to remain behind the black curtain and only watch through the cut out eyeholes. The black curtain is inside the apartment that I reside in. This apartment is a fashionable studio in the hot part of town, and all my neighbors are graphic artists. So now please kindly listen to my request: what I require foremost in a woman with bushy eyebrows. And they must be TWO eyebrows, because one eyebrow is an abonination against Gaia. What I want is for the woman to become naked and pose herself before me. I have a carpeted pedestal so her feet will not grow cold. I will present her with a very well preserved Mesopotamian bowl. She will hold it and she must be careful not to drop it as it has to be back at the museum by 8am tomorrow (I am a worker there). Next I will hand her tweezers. Then she will pluck her eyebrows until her forehead is vacant. The eyebrows will drift into the bowl and then I will take the bowl from her and go to my kitchenette. I will then toss a salad into the bowl and mix the eyebrows in it. The woman can decide the dressing, but I have only vinegrette and thousand island. Next I will re-present the bowl to the woman, along with a utensil, and she will then consume the salad while I watch. I may masturbate during this part of the exercise. However, if there is a man behind the black curtain he may not masturbate, and I will know if does because I will hear him. However, he is allowed to fantasize, and then he write an essay on his fantasies before I release him. After the woman is finished with her salad, I will present her with a Qing dynasty teapot box, which she will open and deficate in. She must be careful with the box as well as it is also from the mueseum and it must be returned or there will be trouble. When she is finished she will return it to me, and I then I will bid her good-evening. That is all. Please send a photo, eyebrows only. I WILL NOT respond to any photos that include anything but eyebrows.
Please, serious inquiries ONLY. THIS IS NOT JOKE. So do not make funny replies to it. I have no patience for impertinence. Good day.
If you couldn't infer from previous comments, I'm not what you would call a religious person. While raised to believe in the J-man (and I remain a big fan of his purported work) and Catholicism, I have since my late teen years been pretty agnostic. It came on rather suddenly, but it has stuck for the most part. There have been times when I have wondered what to call myself. The word atheist brings up rather gross associations involving strident university students who gather when their Magik and LARP schedules allow to scoff at people and their religions. I'm not really interested in that.
My interest in talking about my own views only comes up when someone else's views try to dictate my actions. Then I get strident.
In a country where 92% of the population believes in God, and atheists are ranked as the least trustworthy citizens in the land, it would be nice and inspiring to see more people make their lack of faith public. It is tiresome to have to explain to someone how you can actually have morality without religion. That is sadly a brand new concept to a lot of people.
So, with all this said, I present to you a very good piece of reading by Sam Harris. It is food for thought...a large Christy waifer for the non-believing brain. I've extracted some of my favorite excerpts for your reading pleasure!
I never thought of myself as an atheist before ....I think that “atheist” is a term that we do not need, in the same way that we don’t need a word for someone who rejects astrology. We simply do not call people “non-astrologers.” All we need are words like “reason” and “evidence” and “common sense” and “bullshit” to put astrologers in their place...
We are faced with the monumental task of persuading a myth-infatuated world that love and curiosity are sufficient, and that we need not console or frighten ourselves or our children with Iron Age fairy tales. I don’t think there is a more important intellectual struggle to win...
So, let me make my somewhat seditious proposal explicit: We should not call ourselves “atheists.” We should not call ourselves “secularists.” We should not call ourselves “humanists,” or “secular humanists,” or “naturalists,” or “skeptics,” or “anti-theists,” or “rationalists,” or “freethinkers,” or “brights.” We should not call ourselves anything. We should go under the radar—for the rest of our lives. And while there, we should be decent, responsible people who destroy bad ideas wherever we find them.
Now, it just so happens that religion has more than its fair share of bad ideas. And it remains the only system of thought, where the process of maintaining bad ideas in perpetual immunity from criticism is considered a sacred act. This is the act of faith. And I remain convinced that religious faith is one of the most perverse misuses of intelligence we have ever devised. So we will, inevitably, continue to criticize religious thinking. But we should not define ourselves and name ourselves in opposition to such thinking.
What stood out to me about Harris' speech is not only how he acknowledges the human need for something larger, something most people call spirituality, but he tackles a very large misconception that non-believers exist to spoil everyone's good time.
My concern is that atheism can easily become the position of not being interested in certain possibilities in principle. I don’t know if our universe is, as JBS Haldane said, “not only stranger than we suppose, but stranger than we can suppose.” But I am sure that it is stranger than we, as “atheists,” tend to represent while advocating atheism. As “atheists” we give others, and even ourselves, the sense that we are well on our way toward purging the universe of mystery. As advocates of reason, we know that mystery is going to be with us for a very long time. Indeed, there are good reasons to believe that mystery is ineradicable from our circumstance, because however much we know, it seems like there will always be brute facts that we cannot account for but which we must rely upon to explain everything else. This may be a problem for epistemology but it is not a problem for human life and for human solidarity. It does not rob our lives of meaning. And it is not a barrier to human happiness.
I may be in a huge minority in this country but I can't help but be really sold by the majority of what Harris is presenting here.
Sorry this entry wasn't so much fun. Hopefully I'll be able to work something completely inane next time.
Wikipedia is apparently a tool of the science-loving, Godless liberal, so conservatives came up with their own resource, Conservapedia. I support this. When I was at school in Ohio, I would be subjected to conservative hijackings in my anthropology classes. We'd just be trying to learn about a prognathic jaw when some coot would take over our learning time to convince us all the world was only 6,000 years old and we should all be afraid of the Great Juju in the Sky. Self-segregation of these jackholes is welcome with Creed-hating arms wide-opened.
One thing I have to hand to the Conservatives is their childlike wonder and awe regarding homosexual sex. Check out their stats page.
Now, whether this is the work of liberal pranksters or not, I would like to thank whoever came up with "gay bowel syndrome."
They say there aren't any good men out there these days, but I think we can all agree that a brief perusal of Craigslist will prove otherwise. The single girl's cup runneth over in this ad.
I am a lvl 8 warrior seeking my adventuring companion for game play and fornication. I partake in only adventure/fantasy role play, no creepy goth stuff, it’s too weird. Only sanctioned spells allowed, costume dress optional but preferred. I have the body of a wandering Norwegian brawler and short brown hair. Please be quite buxom and imaginative for play and enjoy fantasy role play aesthetics. Please send pics, leves, preferred adventure type and spell list. We could go get dinner (under $20), and watch a movie. Also I’m allergic to cats.
I like how discerning this man feels he can be. It warms the heart.
As a comedian and mental health industry consumer, I regularly face intense highs and lows. Mostly lows. But I have a little trick that has been expediting the healing process. I have a motivational coach that exists only in my brain. He is modeled after Djimon Hounsou's character, Juba, from Gladiator. And, yes, I do love that movie. And, yes, I have seen it half a dozen times. And, yes, I will see it again. There is some sort of manskirt-shaped hole in my heart that it fills. Go ahead, judge me.
So, I was in the office getting down about life when I started to slip into the netherworld of sadness and failure that is Juba's domain in my mind. Juba only has two volumes: a thunderous, righteous bellow or a meaningful, tender whisper. He was just in the middle of forcing me back into reality with a hushed: "I will see you again... but not yet. Not yet!" when I was snapped back into reality by the ringing of the phone.
It was the first time in my life I was tempted to believe in the hot, steaming turd Oprah calls "The Secret." I think I have been putting out minor celebrity vibrations and the universe had finally responded to my needs. See how easy it is? If only Israelis and Palestinians would put out vibrations and get on the right frequency, they might be able to get their shit together.
Reader, I digress.
Rutger Hauer, you are one of my favorite references. You didn't know this when we spoke. But my heart, how it fluttered - leapt, even - in my chest when I heard you so confidently respond to my workplace greeting with "Hello, this is Rutger Hauer." It was so natural, Rutger. As if every ringing phone should be answered such a way. I salute your boldness in assuming I'd even know who you are. But you are the man, so it's a valid assumption.
Oh, Rutger, how we chuckled over your technical problems that prevented you from emailing. How we reveled in the modern day conundrum of keeping in touch! And when you asked me if I could text you a co-worker's email address, a single tear drove down the highway of my cheek.
Do you know, Rutger, how hard it was for me to not let you know how much I have admired your ice cold steeliness since that first day our eyes locked while you were in Blade Runner? DO YOU KNOW?! I was only six, but I knew from your perfect Aryan stare that you meant business. You are my go-to guy whenever I need a suitably obscure android reference.
If only I had the bravery to ask you to say that line to me over the phone, "I want more life, fucker."
I would have said, even more tenderly than Juba, "I know, Rutger, we all do."
It's easy to lose faith in humanity if you have to use public transportation. When you see a very large, muscular teenager shouting "shut the fuck up you retarded ass n*****, I don't care 'bout Korea" to a crumpled old veteran who objected to having his bag stepped on, you kind of start hating human beings.
Maybe if I saw people give up seats for pregnant women or old people more often, I wouldn't let the dark side overtake me so easily. But for now, I'll just have to seek out stories and keep my eyes peeled for acts of kindness to keep me from committing assault and throat punching someone.
So reading this story about a five year-old boy dressed as Spiderman saving a baby from a house fire completely rocked my world in a very Amelie-esque way.
More proofthat Jon Stewart just may be Christ incarnate.
Stewart Will Keep Striking 'Daily' Writers Afloat
If the writers strike fails, it won't be on account of Jon Stewart.
In a show of solidarity with his fellow scribes, the Daily Show host has told his writing staff that he will cover all their salaries for the next two weeks, according to a well-placed source. He has also vowed to do the same for writers on The Colbert Report. A Comedy Central spokesman referred my inquiry about this to Stewart's personal publicist, who has yet to respond.
Stewart's intention, says the source, is to ensure his writers will face no financial hardship should the strike, which kicked off at 3 a.m. local time, conclude within that timeframe.
I thought my mind had been blown when we got cartooned. Then Sara found out that someone had entered us into LiveJournal popculture notoriety. Witness this dedication! My personal favorite.
Theeeen, as if that wasn't totally dudical, Siddhartha Mitter from WNYC interviewed me, Sara, Baratunde Thurston, and Julie Klausner. You can catch it online!
But then shit got REALLY crunk because The New Yorker invited us to work their festival this weekend which meant we got into a super swank opening party resulting in amazingness.
Yes, Sara has blogged about it because she is not full of molasses like sorry ole me, but the following ensued (after a lot of champagne):
1. I told author Jeffrey Eugenides (author of Virgin Suicides and Middlesex): “I really loved Middlesex. I have read it repeatedly, and I really relate to it, although I’m not a hermaphrodite.”
2. I thrust a drunken fist in the air at the sight of Alan Cumming's Barack the Vote tshirt and he gave me a peace sign. LOVE.
3. I witnessed a very pretty, very tiny Regina Specktor talking to a trio of hipster douchebags.
4. Sam and I rode the elevator up with Oliver Stone and his posse.
5. Salman Rushdie was walking around and I had to restrain myself (I was only 2 champagnes in so this was still possible) from whispering to him "Padma's a bitch" and then running out of the room.
6. On the walk up Park Avenue towards our homeland, Istarted playing with garbage, including a discarded bra and a shoe, and threw them in the air because I was feeling like Mary Fucking Tyler Moore:
7. Ended up sitting on a sofa across from WESCRAVEN and his amazing, beautiful, warm, friendly wife Iya Labunka (producer on Heathers) and having a butt ass long conversation full of wonder. Highlights included:
- Telling Wes Craven: "My brothers got years of mileage terrifying me with fanfic enchanced Freddy Krueger stories, 'SO THANKS A LOT, WES!'"
- Calling him WESCRAVEN at every possible opportunity.
- Talking about zero gravity sex (Buzz, Neil, we all agreed you probably cranked one off in space).
- Hearing the awesome tale of how Iya and Wes met.
That was pretty much the best party I ever went to. It was also very pretty in that hotel with light bulbs on the ceiling.
And the next day we got to perform at the New Yorker Festival's Humor Panel for 350 people. We were the fluffers for the panel. Witness the happiness.
WITNESS US MEETING Samantha Bee, who is soooo funny and nice in person (and even prettier).
If you thought the story was going to stop here, you were wrong. Because then, by some miracle, we got to meet Margaret Cho that same night. I have the pictures to prove it.
I'm not quite sure how a weekend like that can be topped!
WTF? who ARE you? and how can I be you when I grow up? So EXCITING!!! Padma is a bitch, what does she know about food? She's so tiny? And Margaret Cho... have you showered yet? If not I'm gonna hunt you down in the city tonite and touch you... because you touched her and a third degree touch is as good as me being there myself ;)
I heart Margaret Cho so much I would have hugged her.
I know you were happy because in the picture with Cho you smiled with your teeth. Toothy grin = childlike glee. Your husband will probably never be able to make you cum again, and it's all WESCRAVEN's fault!
I agree with Karo, I've been watching this for about half an hour straight and I think it's helping restore my sanity. This week has sucked enormous ass and this, along with the Obama Pointing And Saying "Chill the Fuck Out, I GOT THIS!" image, are helping cure me. Also, I'm in love with Sara Benihana. Or whatever. Love her.
But I love this GIF so much that I'm creating an entire new feature on our site dedicated to thinks that kick ass. And this goes up first.
Died fighting an oil rig fire in the Gulf of Mexico
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
I knew this day would come sooner or later, but it still came too soon. Sophia Petrillo, otherwise known as Estelle Getty has died.
I wish I could create a netherworld where people like Estelle could frolick and roam free. She was one of the funniest women ever on TV. Remember when she tried to get the toilet installed in the living room? How about when she ragged on Blanche's tiny rack? LOVED HER.
I hope that I'm wrong and there is a Magic Pony Fairy Kitty Princess Land where old broads like you get to eat cheesecake out on the lanai for all eternity. You ruled.
Obama has Larry David (can that possibly lead to anything good), Huckabee has Chuck Norris, and John McCain has landed the biggest one of them all...WILFORD BRIMLEY. I want so much out of this union. I'm picturing McCain and Brimley propped up on matching horses in the middle of the Arizona desert (Wilford required five Mexicans and a series of levers and pullies), their dual silhouettes dark against the blazing orange sunset. Both of them exchanging advice regarding Liberty Mutual supplies and working on policy to get a set of medical supplies to every American in the country, regardless of their diabeetus status. Wilford's Teddy Roosevelt-good looks making McCain appear fresh, youthful. Ah, beauteous.
If you haven't seen this before, you're in for a treat.
That's me this morning and it's not because I ended up in a subway car full of stripping girls like this guy. It's because I clocked in a ten hour sleep fest last night and I'm feeling reborn.
Speaking of stripping on subway cars, it looks like some guy couldn't take seeing girls have all the fun.
He brought his own disco ball, people. But I think the thing that really made me fall in love was his closing line: "Keep your money in your pocket, your erections and your moist panties are thanks enough for me." Despite some faces of discomfort and confusion, Mike's strip tease was relatively hater-free.
I know this video is old, but it transcends time, space, and other internet memes, making it a classic for generations to come. Also, she just stroked out again so I'd like to be pro-active and honor her memory.
Starting around :31 give or take, there are two seconds where by the flash in her bovine eyes you can see that she has forgotten her own name.
Ignatius Reilly is alive, using Portland Craigslist
Thursday, December 13, 2007
File this under reason 12,394 to be happy you're not single.
If you are groggy or stoned please do not read this, I need your complete and sober attention, for my request is uniquely detailed. I am a man, 35, white, black hair with brown eyes. Okay, first what I am looking for is a woman primary, but secondary it could be a woman and her man, but the man will have to remain behind the black curtain and only watch through the cut out eyeholes. The black curtain is inside the apartment that I reside in. This apartment is a fashionable studio in the hot part of town, and all my neighbors are graphic artists. So now please kindly listen to my request: what I require foremost in a woman with bushy eyebrows. And they must be TWO eyebrows, because one eyebrow is an abonination against Gaia. What I want is for the woman to become naked and pose herself before me. I have a carpeted pedestal so her feet will not grow cold. I will present her with a very well preserved Mesopotamian bowl. She will hold it and she must be careful not to drop it as it has to be back at the museum by 8am tomorrow (I am a worker there). Next I will hand her tweezers. Then she will pluck her eyebrows until her forehead is vacant. The eyebrows will drift into the bowl and then I will take the bowl from her and go to my kitchenette. I will then toss a salad into the bowl and mix the eyebrows in it. The woman can decide the dressing, but I have only vinegrette and thousand island. Next I will re-present the bowl to the woman, along with a utensil, and she will then consume the salad while I watch. I may masturbate during this part of the exercise. However, if there is a man behind the black curtain he may not masturbate, and I will know if does because I will hear him. However, he is allowed to fantasize, and then he write an essay on his fantasies before I release him. After the woman is finished with her salad, I will present her with a Qing dynasty teapot box, which she will open and deficate in. She must be careful with the box as well as it is also from the mueseum and it must be returned or there will be trouble. When she is finished she will return it to me, and I then I will bid her good-evening. That is all. Please send a photo, eyebrows only. I WILL NOT respond to any photos that include anything but eyebrows.
Please, serious inquiries ONLY. THIS IS NOT JOKE. So do not make funny replies to it. I have no patience for impertinence. Good day.
If you couldn't infer from previous comments, I'm not what you would call a religious person. While raised to believe in the J-man (and I remain a big fan of his purported work) and Catholicism, I have since my late teen years been pretty agnostic. It came on rather suddenly, but it has stuck for the most part. There have been times when I have wondered what to call myself. The word atheist brings up rather gross associations involving strident university students who gather when their Magik and LARP schedules allow to scoff at people and their religions. I'm not really interested in that.
My interest in talking about my own views only comes up when someone else's views try to dictate my actions. Then I get strident.
In a country where 92% of the population believes in God, and atheists are ranked as the least trustworthy citizens in the land, it would be nice and inspiring to see more people make their lack of faith public. It is tiresome to have to explain to someone how you can actually have morality without religion. That is sadly a brand new concept to a lot of people.
So, with all this said, I present to you a very good piece of reading by Sam Harris. It is food for thought...a large Christy waifer for the non-believing brain. I've extracted some of my favorite excerpts for your reading pleasure!
I never thought of myself as an atheist before ....I think that “atheist” is a term that we do not need, in the same way that we don’t need a word for someone who rejects astrology. We simply do not call people “non-astrologers.” All we need are words like “reason” and “evidence” and “common sense” and “bullshit” to put astrologers in their place...
We are faced with the monumental task of persuading a myth-infatuated world that love and curiosity are sufficient, and that we need not console or frighten ourselves or our children with Iron Age fairy tales. I don’t think there is a more important intellectual struggle to win...
So, let me make my somewhat seditious proposal explicit: We should not call ourselves “atheists.” We should not call ourselves “secularists.” We should not call ourselves “humanists,” or “secular humanists,” or “naturalists,” or “skeptics,” or “anti-theists,” or “rationalists,” or “freethinkers,” or “brights.” We should not call ourselves anything. We should go under the radar—for the rest of our lives. And while there, we should be decent, responsible people who destroy bad ideas wherever we find them.
Now, it just so happens that religion has more than its fair share of bad ideas. And it remains the only system of thought, where the process of maintaining bad ideas in perpetual immunity from criticism is considered a sacred act. This is the act of faith. And I remain convinced that religious faith is one of the most perverse misuses of intelligence we have ever devised. So we will, inevitably, continue to criticize religious thinking. But we should not define ourselves and name ourselves in opposition to such thinking.
What stood out to me about Harris' speech is not only how he acknowledges the human need for something larger, something most people call spirituality, but he tackles a very large misconception that non-believers exist to spoil everyone's good time.
My concern is that atheism can easily become the position of not being interested in certain possibilities in principle. I don’t know if our universe is, as JBS Haldane said, “not only stranger than we suppose, but stranger than we can suppose.” But I am sure that it is stranger than we, as “atheists,” tend to represent while advocating atheism. As “atheists” we give others, and even ourselves, the sense that we are well on our way toward purging the universe of mystery. As advocates of reason, we know that mystery is going to be with us for a very long time. Indeed, there are good reasons to believe that mystery is ineradicable from our circumstance, because however much we know, it seems like there will always be brute facts that we cannot account for but which we must rely upon to explain everything else. This may be a problem for epistemology but it is not a problem for human life and for human solidarity. It does not rob our lives of meaning. And it is not a barrier to human happiness.
I may be in a huge minority in this country but I can't help but be really sold by the majority of what Harris is presenting here.
Sorry this entry wasn't so much fun. Hopefully I'll be able to work something completely inane next time.
Wikipedia is apparently a tool of the science-loving, Godless liberal, so conservatives came up with their own resource, Conservapedia. I support this. When I was at school in Ohio, I would be subjected to conservative hijackings in my anthropology classes. We'd just be trying to learn about a prognathic jaw when some coot would take over our learning time to convince us all the world was only 6,000 years old and we should all be afraid of the Great Juju in the Sky. Self-segregation of these jackholes is welcome with Creed-hating arms wide-opened.
One thing I have to hand to the Conservatives is their childlike wonder and awe regarding homosexual sex. Check out their stats page.
Now, whether this is the work of liberal pranksters or not, I would like to thank whoever came up with "gay bowel syndrome."
They say there aren't any good men out there these days, but I think we can all agree that a brief perusal of Craigslist will prove otherwise. The single girl's cup runneth over in this ad.
I am a lvl 8 warrior seeking my adventuring companion for game play and fornication. I partake in only adventure/fantasy role play, no creepy goth stuff, it’s too weird. Only sanctioned spells allowed, costume dress optional but preferred. I have the body of a wandering Norwegian brawler and short brown hair. Please be quite buxom and imaginative for play and enjoy fantasy role play aesthetics. Please send pics, leves, preferred adventure type and spell list. We could go get dinner (under $20), and watch a movie. Also I’m allergic to cats.
I like how discerning this man feels he can be. It warms the heart.
As a comedian and mental health industry consumer, I regularly face intense highs and lows. Mostly lows. But I have a little trick that has been expediting the healing process. I have a motivational coach that exists only in my brain. He is modeled after Djimon Hounsou's character, Juba, from Gladiator. And, yes, I do love that movie. And, yes, I have seen it half a dozen times. And, yes, I will see it again. There is some sort of manskirt-shaped hole in my heart that it fills. Go ahead, judge me.
So, I was in the office getting down about life when I started to slip into the netherworld of sadness and failure that is Juba's domain in my mind. Juba only has two volumes: a thunderous, righteous bellow or a meaningful, tender whisper. He was just in the middle of forcing me back into reality with a hushed: "I will see you again... but not yet. Not yet!" when I was snapped back into reality by the ringing of the phone.
It was the first time in my life I was tempted to believe in the hot, steaming turd Oprah calls "The Secret." I think I have been putting out minor celebrity vibrations and the universe had finally responded to my needs. See how easy it is? If only Israelis and Palestinians would put out vibrations and get on the right frequency, they might be able to get their shit together.
Reader, I digress.
Rutger Hauer, you are one of my favorite references. You didn't know this when we spoke. But my heart, how it fluttered - leapt, even - in my chest when I heard you so confidently respond to my workplace greeting with "Hello, this is Rutger Hauer." It was so natural, Rutger. As if every ringing phone should be answered such a way. I salute your boldness in assuming I'd even know who you are. But you are the man, so it's a valid assumption.
Oh, Rutger, how we chuckled over your technical problems that prevented you from emailing. How we reveled in the modern day conundrum of keeping in touch! And when you asked me if I could text you a co-worker's email address, a single tear drove down the highway of my cheek.
Do you know, Rutger, how hard it was for me to not let you know how much I have admired your ice cold steeliness since that first day our eyes locked while you were in Blade Runner? DO YOU KNOW?! I was only six, but I knew from your perfect Aryan stare that you meant business. You are my go-to guy whenever I need a suitably obscure android reference.
If only I had the bravery to ask you to say that line to me over the phone, "I want more life, fucker."
I would have said, even more tenderly than Juba, "I know, Rutger, we all do."
Rutger Hauer rules. Never saw him in NY, but I saw Willem Dafoe all the freaking time, especially around St. Marks. Are they both of Dutch ancestry? Weird.
I still think Rutger Hauer in the 1970s was one of the sexiest creatures who ever walked the Earth. He's really 60-something, I think, but I prefer to think of him when he was the very model of Aryan physical perfection. Rutger, you'll always be my Soldaat van Oranje. And thanks for not being a dickhead on the phone, too.
"How far that little candle throws its beams; So shines a good deed in a naughty world."
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
It's easy to lose faith in humanity if you have to use public transportation. When you see a very large, muscular teenager shouting "shut the fuck up you retarded ass n*****, I don't care 'bout Korea" to a crumpled old veteran who objected to having his bag stepped on, you kind of start hating human beings.
Maybe if I saw people give up seats for pregnant women or old people more often, I wouldn't let the dark side overtake me so easily. But for now, I'll just have to seek out stories and keep my eyes peeled for acts of kindness to keep me from committing assault and throat punching someone.
So reading this story about a five year-old boy dressed as Spiderman saving a baby from a house fire completely rocked my world in a very Amelie-esque way.
More proofthat Jon Stewart just may be Christ incarnate.
Stewart Will Keep Striking 'Daily' Writers Afloat
If the writers strike fails, it won't be on account of Jon Stewart.
In a show of solidarity with his fellow scribes, the Daily Show host has told his writing staff that he will cover all their salaries for the next two weeks, according to a well-placed source. He has also vowed to do the same for writers on The Colbert Report. A Comedy Central spokesman referred my inquiry about this to Stewart's personal publicist, who has yet to respond.
Stewart's intention, says the source, is to ensure his writers will face no financial hardship should the strike, which kicked off at 3 a.m. local time, conclude within that timeframe.
Theeeen, as if that wasn't totally dudical, Siddhartha Mitter from WNYC interviewed me, Sara, Baratunde Thurston, and Julie Klausner. You can catch it online!
