Get 2 Choppin

Fuck it. I’m back from my summer hiatus. You fucking slapdick simpletons obviously don’t appreciate what it takes to string such witty words together to form a colorful collection of conceptual criticism of the world around us. Well that’s why I’m fucking here to help you pansy ass pus balls get a fucking clue.

Here let me explain, fat kids fucking suck. Get a clue chubby and lay off the ho ho’s and maybe run around the block a few thousand times before you have to go to high school and get ridiculed for being Porky the Pig cause you are so fucking big. I don’t want to have to see your mopey ass fucking face being stuffed with school tacos and pizza and you mumbling through a mouthful of pop tarts that you are big boned. You are fucking fat; you are one donut away from being the sympathy guest on The Biggest Loser.

Don’t think I’m just against fat kids, oh yeah skinny out of shape fucks drive me nuts too. Are you fucking kidding me? One lap around the track and you are out of breath and sucking on your inhaler like your sucking dick for money! You are fucking pathetic. Step away from the Nintendo Wii and consider getting some real fucking exercise. Just cause you can fucking bowl a 300 on the Wii isn’t going to translate into your scrawny ass coming close to being able to pick up a bowling ball in real life. You are a fucking embarrassment to the human race.

Fuck Darwin and evolution. Only the strong survive my ass. Shit, walk into a fucking mall after school and I can prove that theory wrong faster than an apple can drop on Newton’s head. Fuck national health care; I sure as hell ain’t paying for some homeless fuck to have a yearly physical and an MRI on his carpal tunnel wrist from repeatedly asking for my fucking change! In general, here is a big fuck you to all the needle dick, tight lipped (and I ain’t talking about your mouth kinda lips) rich fucks that drove this country into the shitter, who are living high on the fucking hog while middle class America has to suffer for their greediness. You are the real fucking pricks.

Sometimes random thoughts and questions pop into my head and I was wondering if anybody in my reading audience (all 3 of you) had the answers.

For instance if the Lone Ranger had a dog with a history of cancer do you think he would be inclined to name him Chemo Sabe?

Or is the band My Chemical Romance subliminally promoting the use of the date rape drug GHB in their band’s name?

If opposites attract, then shouldn’t twins naturally hate each other?

If two negatives make a positive; shouldn’t two positives conversely make a negative? and if so why is it if someone swears at me (negative behavior) and I punch them in the face (negative reaction to negative behavior) what would be the positive outcome if I went to jail or broke his or her jaw (she probably had it coming anyway, but hey you mess with the bull and you’ll get the horns)? Or if that theory held true than if two ugly people got together then ideally they should have a beautiful child, right?

If it is a one-way street shouldn’t I have the choice of which one way I want to go, I mean technically I’m going one way aren’t I?

If you were to go on a liquid diet shouldn’t that mean you should never have to poop again?

If a butterfly flapping it wings in China can cause a hurricane in Miami (look it up it is called the butterfly effect for a reason), then what happens when all the other animals that can fly flap their wings?

If the spinning bow tie, the lapel flower that shoots water, and super big oversized sunglasses (I mean the type you would win at a carnival for spelling tornado right) aren’t three of the funniest things on the planet then what is?

Recently our reporter at large, Dick Wiley, was sent out to review the film The Wrestler which is getting more of an Oscar buzz than when the Cookie Monster threw a bag of “special brownies” in the Grouch’s Sesame Street garbage can in attempt to avoid the long arm of the law. This is what Dick Wiley had to say about the movie:

The Wrestler is a multi-layered film that delves into the beautiful letdown of the underground world of professional wrestling and is one of the most realistic portrayals ever presented on film. Mickey Rourke is superb in his comeback performance as former superstar Randy “the Ram” Robinson.  The desperation and loneliness that comes with the rise and fall of stardom is inherently as much Mickey’s own as it is his characters. 

The Ram is struggling to regain the weight that his identity once carried with it back when he was on the top rope of life in the 80’s. The director Darren Aronofsky uses close up camera angles and long takes with camera shots where the audience is following different characters but mostly Randy the Ram. This over the shoulder view gave me the sense that I was eavesdropping on the intimate details of the character’s broken nature. It was if I was looking through the same disillusioned lens they were. One scene that echoes this sentiment is when forced into the “real” world Mickey Rourke’s character picks up a shift as a deli worker at a local store. After the puny manager exerts his power of authority over Randy by giving him the emasculated misspelled name tag of Robin, we see Randy winding through the depths of the store with his theme music playing as if he were walking out to a match. He even pauses at the clear plastic strips in the doorframe to pause for dramatic effect.         

Marisa Tomei plays an aging stripper, named Cassidy, that is the female version of Randy. They both are living behind masks. Randy has in all essence melded this fake personality into his current reality while Cassidy (a.k.a. Pam the Mother) is emblematic of the fake persona of the stripper handing out small doses of love to who ever is willing to buy the ticket to see the show. This is coincidentally a reverse take on one of the larger themes of the movie itself that is trying to portray the realism of the fake-ness of “pro-wrestling”.    

Both Randy and Cassidy are hanging on to the “LIE” in their LIFE and not trying to think about the lingering, haunting question of the “F”. If I abandon the comfort of this lie, than who am I really? 

After talking to Dick personally the only bad thing he had to say about the movie was the damn old people that sat behind him and by old he meant, “early-bird special at Denny’s old”, that were complaining that they didn’t know this movie was a “gosh darn porno” because of Marisa Tomei’s hot titties and one bathroom sex scene in which Randy ”the Ram” Robinson was providing some small town wrestling groupie with the sex version of his signature move the Ram Jam if you know what I mean. Plus it had a great 80’s soundtrack to boot.

Last time we left off Polly was in the Forbidden Forest knocking on the door of a rickety old log cabin. Oh what is to become of Poor Polly the Princess and her dog Donnie? Read on to find out.

Finally the door started to slowly open but there wasn’t a rabbit behind it but instead an old decrepit man with big floppy ears and a bow tie. He said, “Sorry it took me so long to come to the door, I can’t move like I use to.”

Polly was flustered and stammered out, “Where is the r-r-rabbit that just came in here?”

The old man smiled his toothless smile and said, “There’s no rabbit in here, just me. Are you all right young lady? Would you like to come in for something to drink? You look awfully parched.”

Polly was taken back for a second and didn’t know what to do. It had been a hot day out and maybe see was just seeing things, so she said, “Sure Mister, but my parents told me to never talk to strangers.”

“Well darling, my name is Pete O’File. I am just a lonely old Irishman living out here in the woods looking for my pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow. Nothing strange about that, is there, and now you know my name but I don’t know yours, stranger.”

Polly paused and then said, “Well my name is Polly and since were not strangers anymore I would love to have a drink. Come on Donnie.”

The old man brought over two shoe shaped glasses for Polly and Donnie. They both were thirsty and started gulping them down. Polly remarked, “What is this stuff Mister? It is bubbly and makes my nose feel funny”.

After they were done, they set the glasses down when Donnie said, “Why’s it so wuzzy in here Wolly?”

Polly replied, “I don’t know Donnie but I don’t feel good. I am just going to take a little nap.”

Polly woke up a little later and found she was tied up.  She looked at the mirror next to the bed and realized she had the two shoe shaped glasses on her feet and her lips were painted red. She looked like her whore stepmother on a Saturday night. She started to wiggle and scream. The old man turned to her and said, “It’s no use my pretty princess. No one can hear you out here.”  The screaming woke up Donnie who was also tied up. The look of terror had settled in both of their eyes.

The old man was at the stove boiling some water when he said over his shoulder, “I figured we’d have some puppy chow for dinner, ah ha ha!” His laugh made the hair raise on Donnie’s back. It was getting dark out and the only light in the place was from an old lantern hanging over the dinner table. Polly had an idea. She loosened the glass shoe off her foot and with all her might flung the shoe at the lantern. She nailed it and knocked it to the ground but wasn’t quite expecting what she got. The flame landed on the tablecloth and the place started to burn. Polly and Donnie rolled off the bed and started to hop toward the door. The old man was trapped in the kitchen. He tried to throw the water from the stove on the fire but the pot was too hot and it burned his hands.

Polly and Donnie finagled their way outside just in time. The old man could be heard screaming in the house. Donnie turned slowly to Polly and said, “The woof, the woof, the woof is fwire” as it collapsed down on the house. Polly and Donnie still didn’t know what to do. They were lost in the Forbidden Forest and had no way of getting home.

Polly turned to Donnie, “Did you hear that?”

At that exact instance running out of the woods came Polly’s father, King Clarence. He ran up and hugged Polly and said, “Polly are you alright? We have been searching for you all night, if it wasn’t for this fire we would’ve never found you.”

Polly with tears running down her face said, “I’m sorry I came into the Forbidden Forest Father, forgive me!”

Her father squeezed her tight and said, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head off about that princess. I could never be mad at you”.

They all started to head back to their castle when Donnie turned to the burning cabin one last time and seeing the tail of what looked like a rabbit hop off into the forest he began shaking his fist and said, “You Wascally Wabbit, Why I oughta!”

Just remember kids: the moral of this story is that anger is only one letter away from danger.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny girl who lived in a martini glass.  She was a lovely little creature with dishwater blonde hair and a skimpy little cocktail dress that she liked to call her mini mar-teeny skirt. It was a red and white striped number that, with a simple little gesture on her part to pick up her napkin from the floor that she “accidentally” would drop from time to time, showed everyone and their cousin how she garnished her liquor cabinet.

She also was know for wearing a Santa’s hat. When someone asked her why she always wore that hat no matter the season or occasion, they always got the same whimsical response from her. She would bend over just enough to show them her ample bosom and touch their nose with her slim, senuous finger and say, “Why darling, Santa only needs it one day a year so I’m sure he won’t mind little ol’ me using it the rest of the time to spread some holla day cheer.”

She lived a very interesting life and with a body that could straighten out a swerving bus full of seminary students, she had no problem finding people and places to take it from not stirred to completely shaken. Even after a couple happy hour half-off hard liquor highballs, she was full of more charm than a thirty year veteran hindu on the snake charmer circuit. Trust me she could turn your limp lizard into a cock cobra faster than you could drop your cheesy pick-up line where you grab the tag to her dress and say, “that’s what I thought, made in heaven.”

She is as cold as the ice in your double vodka and tonic and just as strong willed but you give her a couple drinks and she’ll be loosely draped all over you like the cheap ass suit you are wearing that you thought you would buy to impress some ditzy ass dame that didn’t know better. here’s a clue pal cause you ain’t no fucking detective, they all know better. There is no use spitting your D game on this A chick just keep on feeding her drinks like she’s a boxer with a broken jaw. It’s all about the liquid diet, pal.

I will save you the trouble pal of asking her why she lives in a glass because she always gives the same answer, “I’d rather live in a glass that is half full than at the bottom of a bottle like some people.”