Everything I Learned About How Poor Boys Should Romance Rich Girls I Learned From 80's Movies, Mainly The Karate Kid, Teen Wolf and The Breakfast Club

First off, don't overthink the hair.  It''s a rookie mistake to contrive a hairstyle.  Let the hairstyle come to you.  Don't not brush it, but don't spend a lot on the haircut.  In fact, go to the local barber college and after sitting in the chair for 2 minutes just say "I'm done," pay and leave.

Clothing should be cheap, but not stained or holed.  Knock-offs are ideal.  Look for "Boxford" or "Izag" shirts.  While being dressed in a gym uniform is a pesky equalizer, create ways to look a cut below in the socks and shoes department.  Get knee high sports socks that don't stay up.  Shoes that have stepped in way too much dogshit.  Borrowed sweatpants and sweatshirts are a solid choice. Your dad's closet, provided he's still around and his wardrobe matches his shitty-paying job at the hardware store, can be a treasure trove.

It's probably okay if you have halitosis and a little dandruff, but don't smell bad.  Believe it or not, that's a deal-breaker.

Show the girl some skill you have.  Soccer is good because it's a team sport and implies that you get along with others.  Karate or kickboxing, God help you, shouldn't be selling points.  Guys who know martial arts are not socially adept, hence they learn martial arts.  If that's actually your thing, don't lead with that.  Basketball, surfing, street-smarts, even being a loveable pervert are better alternatives. Especially the pervert.  It's clean and honest.

On the first date it's important to set the standards low.  Meet her parents so she can see their disapproval and then rebel against it.  Let them assume you're a slacker who is poor out of choice. You can should be obviously embarrassed by the piece of shit car your mom is driving the two of you in, but you can secretly chalk it up in the plus column because it shows character.  Remember, she's dating you because she doesn't want to be at the debutante-country-club-what-the-fuck.  A mini-golf/arcade is the perfect sort of "slumming" for her.  It's also your element because it's what the rest of us do when we're not stealing stuff from Spencer's or sharing an Orange Julius with four people. Just don't go overboard and cross over into petty vandalism or pot smoking unless she's given signals that it's a turn-on.  Don't worry about any sex stuff either.  The only thing that's going to be blown is her mind over how authentic and nice you are.  And how you're pretty cool despite being poor and possibly a werewolf.

Inevitably, the rich jealous ex-boyfriend will make a move.  Don't play it cool.  It's only stalking if she catches you checking up on her.  And she will catch you, so have a self-deprecating event lined up to glean just enough sympathy so she'll consider giving you another chance.  If you can't have a waiter from the country club accidentally crash into you,  spilling rich person food all over your cheap clothes, or flaunt a cigarette burn your dad gave you for spilling paint in the garage, then let yourself get constantly flagrantly fouled in the high school basketball game.

Also, don't worry yourself about looking bad next to the ex.  He's going to be so unlikeable with his unnecessary possessions and white privilege (that's right - I said it!), that no one's even going to question the morality of holding this 17 year old guy responsible for how douchy he is, despite the fact that his parents have no doubt played a huge role in coddling and spoiling him for his entire fucking life. You could murder a doe-eyed, dimpled child and still not be as hated as this guy.  That's not a theory to test but it is the truth.  Even if you're the "bad boy," your brand of unscrupulous behavior is on a different level than his and more excusable.  It's totally okay for you to be a product of your environment.

However, all of this is completely useless should the girl be from the wrong side of the tracks.  It's rare, but it happens.  Her self-loathing over her chronically unemployed and unemployable father makes her an easy target, more so if she has the devil's red hair.  Any attention you show her will be so appreciated but it requires finesse, lest you become the asshole rich-guy who needs a level-headed dork to set you straight.

Eventually, there's going to be a moment of truth for the two of you, or more accurately, a shit-or-get off-the-pot moment for her.  She either accepts the fact that you're a loser but you're her loser, or she snaps out of it and doesn't even acknowledge you in the hall at school.  If she indeed succumbs to your indigent lifestyle, you're going to have to at least get a job, maybe make an ill-fated attempt to be in the school play.  Baby-blue, ruffled tuxedos for prom aren't cheap and the honeymoon period won't last forever.  If she drops you then you can at least tell all your friends you were doing it with her, as they laugh their assess off as she walks by.  You should always have a quirky gal-pal you didn't appreciate at first but is waiting for you when you're done riding this 90-minute roller-coaster and just need to feel loved.

Why Conservatives Are Losing Their Minds Over Pope Francis

There's a line in one of my favorite movies, O Brother, Where Art Thou? when the character of Homer Stokes (the Klansman running for governor) rails against a number of people including "Papists!"  The Papists!  It reminded me of what I'd read about John F. Kennedy running for President; how the south was leery of electing a Catholic for fear that his allegiance would be to Rome, not to the United States.  Apparently Kennedy's marital infidelity didn't clue them in on the fact that he was not the best Catholic.  But coming across Conservative media over the past few days has reminded me that there remains a strong anti-Catholic streak running through many southern conservatives.  It's related to anti-intellectualism and is upset that a Christian religion espouses so many socialist and, in their minds, liberal policies.

Most conservatives who have Christian affiliations are members of denominations with a strong American influence.  Baptists.  Methodists.  Lutherans (not the Evangelicals, though.) Non-Denomination Fundamentalists.  Even though most of these have their roots in England, all of these have a belief that the Good Lord has given America a divine mandate to practice Capitalism, expand its territory and be...well, American.  And most of these find a couple of common causes in Catholicism when it comes to abortion and same-sex marriage.  But when it comes to ending the death penalty, friendly treatment of illegal immigrants, eliminating wealth inequalities, leading in combating climate change, and the dreaded social justice, these Christians will treat Catholics with the same venom they reserve for liberal professors at Berkeley who teach survey classes in pornography.  The Catholic Church has existed nearly 1500 years longer than America.  It was here before us and it'll likely be here after us, and it could care less about American Exceptionalism.

Previous Pontiffs haven't been quite as vocal as Pope Francis (none of them had the full spectrum of a 24-hour news cycle re-tweeting their thoughts, either), so Conservatives are not in the mood to listen to a scolding/reminder of what Christianity really is.  Seeing His Holiness converse with President Obama and Raul Castro is guilt by association, because unless Pope Francis challenges Obama on his birth certificate or castigates the Castro regime for its decades of brutal dictatorship, the Catholic Church is somehow legitimizing these governments that Conservatives stand opposed to.  Because they're un-American.  So the Pope is un-American.

I could spend the next thirty minutes responding to all the talking points: The Catholic Church has so much money - why don't they practice some wealth redistribution?  What are they offering to do with all them Syrian im'grants? Cursory searches will show how much the Catholic Church has given to charity.  The Catholic Church still has a lot of PR to work on between the sexual abuse scandals and misappropriation of tithes.  But the problem here is that Conservatism is about having all the benefits of American Exceptionalism with none of the responsibility.  They see fit to call the Pope out on the areas where they disagree, whereas moderate Democrats at least have the decency not to discuss their differing views on abortion and same-sex marriage while Francis is a guest in our country.

The film Mississippi Burning was playing practically non-stop a few weeks ago and I probably watched it twice in parts.  It's a movie I've seen before.  Hackman gives a great performance.  One thing the film hits on very effectively is the anti-intellectualism that the South in particular held against the Civil Rights Movement, and the Catholic Church is basically the Ivy League of religious academia, so it's expected that this sentiment spills over to the Pope's pleas of love thy neighbor.  It's just a shame that in this regard,  nothing's really changed over the past sixty years.

Clovis de Chaumes, Theatre Reviewer, Reviews an Elementary School Open House

I was having aperitifs at Boqueira Soho with Alan Cumming and William H. Macy when William asked, "Alan, when I say theatrical gravitas, who do you think of first?"  To which Alan replied, "I think of two things: Bill Nighy's eyes and Liev Schreiber's ass"  Which brings me to the subject of "Open House at Fairview Elementary School", a play that lures its audience in with mysterious eyes, but gives them a visceral physicality to grab on to.  The performance, subtitled "Welcome Back Tigers!" combines Brechtian dissonance with Chekovian tensions.  Complete with gluten-free cookies and sugarless juice, the show's set reaches beyond the cafeteria stage and throughout the venue, as motivational posters and quotes adorn the walls, along with student artwork showing various degrees of artistic competence.

The evening opens with Principal Jennifer McManus, a woman clearly in crisis.  Her absentee husband and rebellious daughter have made her job her rock.  As she throws herself into an opening monologue about "positive environment" and "gains in test scores," there is a lingering emptiness behind her eyes in which you can see her going to an empty house, feeding the dog, playing with herself without climax and crying herself to sleep.

We then transition into a song sung by the school choir, titled "Get On The Bus!"  On the surface, a repetitive and trite melody and lyrics about boarding a school bus, but between the lines it's a call to conformity; a subliminal command to forget individuality and identity.  One can see our dear Ms. McManus realizing that her own cage was built when she was the same age as these children.  She tenses through smiles and thumbs-up as we can see her long to tell these young boys and girls to cast off the shackles of societal norms.  But alas, she stays mute.

Once the children exit the platform (quite noisily, I might add) we hear from campus police, Officer Ron Grossbeck. The resident Javert, Officer Ron seeks order and animatedly cautions the children about the boogeymen of "strangers," "jaywalking" and "being unsupervised afterschool." As he becomes ever sweatier, Officer Ron closes his soliloquy with a politically charged, "We're here to protect your children."

Then, in an interesting twist, the fourth wall is broken and the parents are encouraged by Ms. McManus to share amongst themselves their own first day of school stories.  This bold audience interaction does not come without risk, as several parents make for the doors, muttering "I just wanted to say 'Hi' to the teacher. I still have to pick up Josh from soccer."  Just when it seems the audience is on the brink of disinterest, Ms. McManus' voice rings out "If you can hear my voice, clap once!"  Immediately, like automatons, the room responds.  "If you can hear my voice, clap two times!" Another response!  "If you can hear my voice...clap three times!" A burst of applause and laughter at the ruse as the audience returns to their seats for the second act.

The second act opens with a word from Nurse June Stoerner, a jolly and matronly character whose unexpected acerbic wit is evident in lines like, "Your child is welcome to lie down in the clinic until you can arrive but once you get them they're your problem."

Ms. McManus returns (same costume as before) and steers the show towards a speech about the new cell-phone policy, stating "If your child's cellphone is confiscated there is a $10 fee to retrieve it."  A speech punctuated with audience reactions ranging from suspicion to confusion, it quickly unravels and is only saved by Ms. Ellen Newton, the school counselor.  In a regular deus ex machina, Ms. Newton swoops in to say that the PTO decided not to tack on the fee to avoid the conflict of interest.  Having been publicly subjugated by Ms. Newton, Ms. McManus descent into ignominy is complete, as we watch her step back and recognize that Ms. Newton has usurped her position.  We see in her eyes a glint of the realization that without power comes freedom.

The denouement comes in the form of Officer Ron returning to remind the parents that they were only permitted to park on the street because school was not in session; that normally "you will be ticketed."  It is at this point that Ms. McManus returns, ironically empowered by her loss of authority, to thank the audience for their attendance and asking the parents to sign-in before their departure so their child can receive the free bumper sticker in school tomorrow.

I remember watching a production of Equus in Stockholm where the actors portraying the horses were amputees outfitted with phalluses.  It remains the edgiest off-Broadway play I have seen and is the standard by which I judge all theatre that seeks to challenge, such as in "The Open House at Fairview Elementary School." There be no horse phalluses here but there is nothing obtuse about the evening as the stakes are raised from the start and the drama unfolds over the next 43 minutes.  But the true measure of play is in how much conversation it inspires after its viewing and rest assured, this play will lead to discussions of conformity, authority and existence. Be warned, however, you must bring your own Claret.

How To Create A Post That Will Change People's Deeply Held Beliefs

First, thank you.  Thank you for choosing to invest your time and talents into composing a digital creation that will force people to confront controversy on issues they wouldn't even discuss with their friends.  This takes balls and you, sir or ma'am, have them.  You have several options in which you can put something out there that will be a glib representation of a complicated issue.

1. Post Comment
The easiest and least risky way to express your thoughts on someone else's post.  Don't be afraid to let your opinion fly.  You're never going to see these people so judge them the best you can by their avatar and/or user name and previous comments. Feel free to use special characters in lieu of vulgarities.  Some sites will filter the four-letter words out.  Internet censorship, right?  Be careful because it could be Obama's Secret Internet Police or Big Pharmaceutical Companies.  Periodically check back to see if other readers have approved or disapproved your comment.  And by periodically I mean every 15 minutes.  It may be necessary to edit it to make it more inflammatory. (Note: Google Chrome loads archived comments faster than Internet Explorer)

2. IMHO
This is the thinking man's meme.  A short paragraph where you offer some trenchant insight on an issue.  Don't worry if you heard it somewhere else like Sean Hannity, Stephen Colbert or Larry Wilmore.  If you couch it in the right verbiage you can pass it off as your own.  Simply start with "IMHO..." and then continue attempting to explain your opinion on gun control, abortion or gay weddings.  Remember, the main goal is to bait the opposition into posting replies that will inevitably devolve into four or five other issues by the 20th comment.  Try not to think how one click can delete the whole thread, rendering the entire exchange about as pointless as a 20-something's resume.

3. The meme
Clearly the most popular and most effective.  There are many photos out there to choose from.  There are traditional photos of Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka smirking, art deco designs of catty women from the 50's, and don't forget:  Black people.  You might want something more original and you may even have to get creative and do some photoshopping, especially if you can't find an actual photo of a Muslim woman yelling in a bakery.  After you have the photo, you'll want a catchy sentence that embodies a straw-man argument, a slippery-slope argument, or any of the accepted logical fallacies.  White text, all caps is the current aesthetic, but don't be confined by it.  But know that people use it because it's easy for people who read at a 9th grade level to comprehend.  Position the first part of the phrase at the top of the photo and then the second part at the bottom for optimum impact.  Proofread (unless the misspelling is intentional to poke fun at certain ethnicities).

A Word About 'Trolls'
So you may have encountered comments that really stand out in a thread.  You can tell them apart from the others because they usually have correct spelling, credible evidence and read like someone who went to college.  These individuals aren't truly interested in changing minds, they're just trying to crash your party.  Ignore them.  Resist the temptation to engage them because they'll just keep coming with the grad-school talk.  Assume they listen to a lot of NPR or read the National Review. These people don't know how the real world works, they just sit in their little bubble typing away and ruining perfectly transcendent posts.

Whichever one of these you choose, you can be sure that someone who believes differently than you will give some serious thought to changing their deeply held convictions because of something you created.  Ten people might see it and nine of those people will just sneer and click onto something else, like McSweeney's or The Federalist.  But that one person sitting there in a t-shirt with tamale stains and mismatched socks will be persuaded by your post about a Muslim takeover to go out and stock up on canned goods and ammo.  Remember, every time a post changes a heart, a Syrian refugee finds a home.  Or gets deported.  Whatever floats your boat.

The Day I Learned About The F-Word

I attended parochial school for my entire compulsory schooling, except for a 9 week stint in a public high school my sophomore year because we had trouble getting tuition together that fall.  Being in a small church-school kept me sheltered for a long time.  Just to give you a frame of reference, the worst word I knew in Kindergarten was damnation.  Not damn.  Damnation.  As in my mom exclaiming "What in damnation is going on in here?!"  By contrast, I once asked a Hispanic boy in a kindergarten class I was subbing for what 'puto' meant.  He replied, "It means, like, bitch-motherfucker-ass-" Okay, I get it.  I think he genuinely felt sorry me that I didn't know and he had to explain it to me.

So in 3rd grade I didn't know much cursing beyond damn or hell.  I'd heard about this 'F' word but didn't exactly know what it was.  One day at school, my friend Sam and I took a restroom break.

While Sam used the urinal and I used the stall (because I still pulled my pants all the way down to pee) I noticed that someone had scratched this into the wall: "Suck it - Fuck it."  I called Sam over and he clasped his hand over his mouth and uttered a long "Ooo!"  This let me know it was pretty bad.  "We have to tell Mr. Foster!" Sam said.  Of course we had to.  I was what my peers referred to as a tattle-tale.  It was my responsibility to inform the teacher of any and all infractions so justice could be served.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it.  Tattling was the best.  A sure-fire way to boost my own fledgling self-esteem by pointing out the whispered cussing, hidden middle fingers and surreptitious cheating that went on in my classroom.  Bad words on the restroom wall?  We sure as shit were gonna go tell.  We bolted from the restroom to tell Mr. Foster.

Mr. Foster was the only male teacher at school.  He usually wore sweatpants and buttoned-up short sleeve shirts.  He was a bald, paunchy man with an unkempt mustache and only later on in my life when I thought about it did it register as a pretty grim existence.  

Sam and I burst into the classroom, Sam barely able to talk from the excitement and running up the stairs (he was a little doughy).  "Mr. Foster," Sam said, "someone wrote something really bad on the wall in the boys restroom!"  This was my moment.  My opportunity to call out the guilty party.  "Yeah," I started.  "It says 'Suck it' and 'Fuck it.'"  I looked accusingly across the room.  As sure as someone had written it on the wall, their guilt would certainly be written on their young faces. 

Someone blurted out, "I did it!"  "You did?" Mr. Foster replied.  "Then you shall go the principal's office and confess your crimes there!  Meanwhile, we will have an extra 30 minutes of recess time in Franz's honor for bringing this to our attention and calling out the guilty party!  Franz is truly a mench!"  

This is what I thought would happen, or something close to it.  Instead, after declaring what was written on the bathroom wall, the entire class gasped.  Mr. Foster found it hard to stifle his amusement, saying "Franz, you can't say that."  What?!  You mean I'm in trouble for finding it and having the courage to tell you?  We're on the same side, Mr. Foster!  Don't just sit there with your hands in your sweat jacket pockets, jingling your keys, do something!  "Okay, I'll let the principal know, thank you," he said.  I went to my seat, confused.  Someone had written this profanity in the bathroom of all places and was going to get a way with it.  Meanwhile, I'm the one causing snickers and giggles because I wanted Mr. Foster to know about this act of vandalism?  I learned a lesson that day, all right.  Not only does the F in F-word stand for fuck, but adults don't really care about it.  And yet if I were to go into Toys'R Us and say something like, "Aw man, the new Optimus Prime is $25.  Fuck it," I'd be the one in trouble.

Respawn

There's not enough unsolicited commentary on the internet and I feel mine is REALLY important so you should read it.  Politics.  Humor.  Political Humor. I'm committed to bringing back blogging like it's 2004 all over again.  Join me, friends.

If You Give A Unicorn An Uzi, by Esther Numeroff

If you give a unicorn an uzi, he's going to want to know why you're giving him an uzi. You'll probably have to tell him that it's because he's going to do your "dirty work." He probably won't understand that euphemism so you'll have to further explain that you're going to ask him to use the uzi to shoot someone, he'll probably object on moral grounds. If he objects based on moral grounds, then explain that the person doesn't deserve to live. He'll want to know why. You'll probably mutter that he's asking a lot of questions for a unicorn but then you'll go on to explain that this person, this bitch rather, is simply a worthless human being who contributes nothing to society, has never struggled (unlike yourself) and is living a perfect life with a perfect family in a house that's too good for her. That and she's racist. The unicorn will probably be taken aback by your outburst and given his inexplicable inquisitive nature will start with more questions, but you'll cut him off and say, "Just get your uzi and get in my Celica." If he's going for a ride he'll want to stick his head out the window. Once you get to your destination, a quaint cottage in Saranac Lake, you'll direct the unicorn to "Kick in the door, find the woman, say 'This is for Esther' and then shoot her up good." The unicorn is likely to object but you'll just have to start pushing him out and tell him that this woman once killed a whole family of unicorns just to watch them die and he'll -- Then suddenly the woman will come out the house and say, "Esther? What are you doing out there, come on inside!" You'll wonder if she saw the unicorn but he must've jumped out the window because he's suddenly disappeared. "Esther, come on inside! It's been so long, the kids want to see their aunt!" "I don't know, Laura," you'll say. "I was just coming up here to deliver something but I guess I left it at home." "You left it at home in Pittsburgh?" You'll start to scramble, trying to figure out how to salvage this plan that seemed so brilliant: One unicorn, one uzi, one dead over-achieving sister, for whom the world was always handed to on a silver platter! "Um, Esther, why don't you just come in, I'm sure you've had a long drive." Oh, that condescending tone! Oh, Esther! Here just take some of my "If you give a moose a muffin" royalties. Trust me, we'll be fine. Oh, Esther! Mom just bought the kids laptops for Hannukah! "Esther, you coming in?" "Oh you would just love that, wouldn't you! Me coming into your Crate & Barrel show room of a house to hear about Stevenson and Shelly and how gifted they are and how Luke just got offered to redesign Seinfeld's summer home and how you're starting a new children's book! Well I got a title for you: If you give a skank a nose job at fifteen!" Then you'll drive off and head to the nearest Burger King. And if you head to the nearest Burger King, the unicorn will pop back up in the backseat.  He'll want a #4.  If you give him his #4, he's going to want some ketchup.

Happy Holidays - from the Tae-Bo guy

Seasons Greetings!
It's me!  Billy Blanks! The black guy you associate with Tae-Bo - the all around best cardiovascular workout you can get in 30 minutes!  Actually, I'm the black guy you associated with Tae-Bo.  It seems that some of you have been duped by this Zumba nonsense.

Don't forget: Tae-Bo is the combination of Tae Kwon Do and Boxing.  Zumba is the combination of weak-wills and Jazzercise.  Let's see - what's going to help you more if you're getting mugged?  Some of my patented Tae-Bo moves or some whorish-Salsa dancing?  This is why Tae-Bo is still a solid gift to give this time of year.  Most of my videos have been adapted to dvds and my IT buddy Luke is working on the iPod app.

I know what you're thinking.  "Tae-Bo is soooo 1998.  This is 2012, Billy!"  Tae Kwon Do has been around for as long as there have been Asians and boxing for as long as there have been Irish.  My workout has deep cultural roots, unlike Zumba which is very Latino-centric. 

"But Billy!  Zumba contributes to charities like the Susan G. Komen Foundation!"  Forget all that.  A portion of my profits are going to Syria.  My PR lady, Monica, is working out the specifics.

So have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, or whatever gets your blood pumping (like my videos).
Billy Blanks
Tae-Bo CEO

Watch or Go Home, Please

Tonight, my 9-year old son and I attended the Astros vs. Brewers game at Minute Maid Park. It was an awful experience, as we witnessed our team get manhandled at the plate and on the mound en route to an 8-1 Brewer's victory. My wife, Sarah, is from the Milwaukee area and I've been to several Brewers games. They're a fun team to root for when they're not playing your home team. And though the lop-sided loss was another humiliating defeat for our team, it was an important victory for the Brewers as it protected their 3 game lead in first place in the division over the Cardinals, which is a team that is very easy to dislike if you're an Astros fan.

While I was at the game, I happened to glance at the flags on the left field wall, commemorating the years the Astros went to the playoffs. Two struck me in particular, the one when they won the NL West in 1986, and the one where they won the NL Central in 1997. An 11 year drought. After 1997 there were quite a few successful seasons, although it took another 8 years for them to finally break out of the first round, then win the NLCS, and get a shot at the World Series, only to get swept by the Chicago White Sox in four games.

I pointed this out to Jude. He is a die-hard Astros fan, with the loyalty and ferocity that a nine-year old boy has in spades for his hometown baseball team. But I wanted him to understand that it sometimes takes a team a while to build. My main concern is that many Astros game attendees (not necessarily fans) don't grasp this concept. I know this team is horrendous and has only dug itself deeper in a public relations pit with its fan base after the trades of two of its top players for prospects, but if you're going to go to the game, then go to the game to WATCH THE GAME. We sat in $11 seats and there was constant noise from conversations, and constant viewing obstructions from people walking up and down the aisles. They were oblivious to the game going on. The best part was in the 7th inning when, down 7-1, everyone starts doing the wave. I won't even get into the issue of this activity being banned at Arlington stadium, but what sort of moronic sport fan are you to instigate this when your team is being pummeled in a game you most likely paid no attention to, being played by guys who you don't even know because you didn't even bother to see who they traded Pence and Bourn for? What was more embarrassing was that there were a number of Brewer fans there and if there is one thing about Brewer fans it's that they are serious baseball fans, not the casual fans that are attracted to Astros games for the social environment.

These young players, Martinez, Sanchez, Bourgeious, Altuve, etc. are fun to watch because they're aggressive at the plate. They've gotten fairly lucky and have had some success, but that often translates into a lot of swinging strike outs, which is what they fell prey to tonight, making Matt Gallardo, a 12-7 pitcher, look like Greg Maddux. I recall watching Hunter Pence being very impatient when he first came up. Once he learned some discipline at the plate and let the game come to him, he forced pitchers to make pitches they didn't want to and the next thing you know he was on base either via a walk or a hit. The hope is the same happens for these guys. They have a lot of potential. But potential doesn't translate into wins.

Win, and it doesn't really matter whether it's a no-name on the back of the jersey, or a series of indecipherable symbols and hieroglyphs. But winning is key. And this front office of Wade and McLane has had trouble gaining trust from fans that they can scout and find good talent, and the poor guys on the field have an audience who is familiar with the name on the front of the jersey, but not the one on the back. So it's "OMG, when is the hot sauce packet race?" and "Aw shit, I just spilled nacho cheese on my favorite A&F shirt!"

So, while we're still grumbling about selfish NFL players and revving our disgust towards NBA players, make sure to spend time truly feeling sorry for your Astros who are busting their asses in front of a home crowd who are too busy tweeting to realize they're watching the future of this team, and confirming the fact that Houston sports fans are what the rest of the nation assumes we are: Fair weather fans.

Comments Written By Classmates in Abe Lincoln's High School Yearbook (If he's actually gone to high school)

Hey Abe!
Hope you stop growing soon, so you don't step on us! J.K.! Stay cool! - Stacy K.

Yo bitch!
Wazzup! We both now Abe dont really luv dem hos! I alwayz got yo back, fool! - Brian T.

Abraham,
You were a joy to have in class. Remember, if you shoot for the moon, you'll land among the stars. Sincerely,
Mr. Richardson

BALLS! YOU KNOW! - Mike "Logmaster" Y. P.S. - FAGGOT!!!

Abe,
U R such a cool guy. dont forget us when u get famous! - Melissa I.

A-Man,
Remember that time we locked schoolmaster Miller in the outhouse, stole watermelons from them negros and made out behind the haystack? i'll never forget - Amos G.

Myths about the health care bill that are actually true...that republicans don't want you to know!

#1
If you read certain parts of the bill backwards, you will summon the ghost of Michael Landon, dressed as Pa Ingells. He will try to have a bonding moment with you where he uses an analogy of breaking in a horse to explain why the economy is taking so long to recover. You don't have time for this, so quickly stab with him a spork while humming the theme music to Bonanza and he will dissipate.

#2
One provision of the bill allows doctors to prioritize patients according to attractiveness. Conversely, it also allows patients to pay doctors not based on their ability, but on their own attractiveness. This will ensure that if you are ugly, you might not get seen first, but if you can deem your doctor to be ugly, then you can opt not pay him/her very much. It's a win/win.

#3
Parents who cannot afford vaccines for their children can play "Vaccine Roulette," where upon the nurse shows them six syringes, five of which contain the vaccine and one which contains air. Good luck, poor dad.

#4
People facing end of life issues are not send to death panels. Instead, they're beaten to death with pieces from the set of "The Munsters."

#5
Doctors will be randomly selected and mandated to participate on a quiz show hosted by a pantless Paula Poundstone. The winner will get to keep their license. The losing physicians must report to Paula's dressing room to shave her back.

#6
Penile reduction is a necessary surgery for men whose penises are bigger than the current President.

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL TEA PARTY!!!

Rejected Febreeze Odor Names as Commented on By My Father

Arabian Breeze
Enjoy the invigorating whiffs of refined petroleum. You know the smell; the smell of U.S. foreign oil dependency; of turning a blind-eye to horrendous human rights abuses against women and children in order to not rile OPEC. Enjoy your $2.60 gas, asshole.

Brazilian Carnivale
Ah, to be in Rio during Carnivale. The colors. The music. The vomit. The ball sweat. You like Brazil? Fuck you. Put your money where your mouth is and get a Brazilian wax, faggot. Get drunk and prance around in the street wearing nothing but a feather boa and a pair of cut-offs...on your head.

Island Refreshment
You think islands are refreshing, huh? A place for physical and emotional rejuvenation? What about American Samoa? Timor Leste? Hispaniola? Yeah, let's take a vacation to the Dominican! We'll stay in an aluminum shack, beg for pennies, and scout future baseball players. Then when life gets too stressful, we'll saunter on over to Haiti...

Green Meadows
Sure, green meadows. Why not? Better hope you don't have allergies. Ragweed. Pollen. Ants. Ticks. Eastern diamondback rattlesnakes. What? You're allergic to eastern diamondback rattlesnakes? Man, what a pussy. I love the smell of green meadows, don't you? Unless that green meadow is where cows graze because guess what...then it's also going to smell like cow-shit and cow after-birth.

Poop
Why even try to mask the odor of your feces? It's only a matter of time before the air in the bathroom is befouled again. What, is this the last time your shit is actually going to smell like shit? It's hopeless. Anyway, that's why they have matches. Oh, I see. The smell of your shit is too godamn good for matches. Well la-dee-frickin'-da. Hope you're not late for the opera, fag-a-rotti.

Porno Plots That Went Wrong

*If McSweeneys already has something like this (and they probably do) just know that the plagiarism is unintentional. Honestly.
Pizza Guy
Pizza guy comes over to deliver pizza to two scantily clad sorority sisters. When the girls discover they have no money, they offer an "alternative" payment for the pizza: Some ancient Roman coins that one of the girls' father found on an expedition in Italy. By coincidence, the pizza delivery boy is an archaeology major at the same college. The girl gives him her father's business card and the boy is able to intern with the professor. While serving as his intern, the professor dies in a tragic accident in Greece, leaving the young man with the task of telling his daughter about his untimely demise. Upon hearing the news, the girl is so overcome with grief that she is emotionally vulnerable. After a few weeks, her and the boy (who has been there for her during this time) have too much to drink and have sex. The next morning she apologizes and says she's not ready for a long-term relationship. The boy understands because he was actually attracted to the other girl from the beginning. After waiting the obligatory two days, the boy returns and asks out the other sorority sister. He gets a blow-job on the first date.

Pool Cleaner
Raul and Julio are cleaning the pool of a rich heiress. While the men toil, shirtless in the hot sun, the heiress sits poolside, sipping iced-tea, periodically letting ice-cubes melt on her heaving breasts. Suddenly, she asks the men if they are in the country legally. Raul and Julio reluctantly admit they are not. The heiress is not offended by this in the least and explains that her father, a staunch Democrat, actually gives money to La Raza, L.U.L.A.C. and other organizations that help illegal immigrants. Raul and Julio are surprised and then confess to the heiress that they were only cleaning the pool in order to scope out the mansion so they could break-in at a later time. Instead of being outraged, the heiress takes pity upon the plight of these men and offers them twice the payment. Raul and Julio humbly accept, finish their job, and leave. That night, Raul thinks of the heiress while having sex with Julio's wife.

Art History Professor
Langdon, a professor of art history at a prestigious university, has a crush on one of his female students. Not only is she hot, but she's totally into art history, especially the phallic imagery seen in many Mesopotamian sculptures. After one class, where she wears a blouse with a plunging neck-line, he invites her back to his office to show her a book on something or other. Once they are there, Langdon makes a point to stand close to her while reaching for a book, any book. There's an awkward silence. As Langdon goes in for the kiss, the young lady blurts out "Rape!" and runs from the office. Despite being tenured, Langdon is fired and in a cruel twist of irony, finds work at a art museum as a custodian. He's then fired from that job and arrested for using his cell-phone to take pictures of women while they are using the toilet. While in jail, he teaches a prison art class to the other convicts, one of whom, shanks Langdon with a paint-brush after he is too critical of the inmate's art. He is also sodomized.

Cable Guy
The cable guy comes over to fix the cable at Marie's house. Marie is showering when he arrives and has to answer the door wearing a towel that for some reason says "Fuck me, please." The cable guy goes to work on the cable and discovers that something has chewed through the outside line. In a rare show of honesty, the cable guy tells Marie that she should consider getting Comcast Satellite television, which is what he has in his own home. Marie says she's heard satellite t.v. is just as unreliable as cable and is skeptical of the cable guy. Suddenly another cable guy shows up who is actually the real cable guy. The first guy is really a Comcast employee who intercepted the service call. The two cable men engage in a fist fight in the front lawn. The fight ends when the second man bludgeons the Comcast guy with a pavement stone. The sight of the blood shocks the cable guy with the realization of what he's done and he runs off. Marie calls the cops and cries because she will miss "Damages." She has no other choice but to masturbate and cry herself to sleep.

$2150

My teacher bonus...er...incentive pay for this year is $2150. Don't worry, I'll only see $1466.44 after taxes. Gotta pay for Obama's condoms somehow, right? (I can make that joke because I voted for him).

The largest bonus given on my campus was $7865; went to an 8th grade science teacher who I know works pretty hard. I checked my previous campus which has now been rated "Unacceptable" two years in a row by TEA. The largest bonus there went to a social studies teacher, $5250. The principal there only got $2056.50. At my kids' elementary school, their teachers' bonuses were considerably less. $1275 to be exact. I mentor a teacher at Henry Middle School. Of all the teachers at Henry, only 3 will receive incentive pay. $2500 each.

I take a lot of pride in what I do. I teach a subject that has no curriculum or standards for the grades that I teach. I take over 100 students to tournaments throughout the year which eat up entire weekends. I coach them in over a dozen events. However, I feel pretty confident in saying that every teacher mentioned above works harder than I do. In some cases, they are rewarded. In others, they are done a dis-service. Most of them have students who bring issues into the class that I don't see where I'm at.

I don't really care about the posting of teacher bonuses. It's a small price to pay to let the public know that our superintendent is getting a bonus that is nearly twice as much as what I take home every year. This is why I think our salaries should also be posted. So the public can understand the bonus within the context of what we usually see. It'll add another level of despair. They won't ever post our salaries so I'll have to tell you mine:

$48, 506.

Now, before you start making me your Uncle Obama and asking me for loans, let me say a few things. I pay $445 before taxes for my medical insurance. You may not be familiar with my provider option. It's the one with the $1000 per/family member deductible before the insurance kicks in. Sarah has no problem racking up $1000. She can do that in her sleep, God bless her. It's just the rest of us relatively healthy folks who are scrambling to pay for doctor's visits till we rack up $1000 (and then we're only covered for in-network providers for 80%) Remember, that's $1,000 per person in our family.

In one year, our insurance costs $10,500. So, let's see...subtract that from my salary and it's about $38000. Subtract my federal taxes and I'm down to about $37,200 (I claim my wife and 3 kids, thank you very much). This breaks down to about $1400 per pay period.

Bonus $1466. Every two weeks $1400 (it's actually slightly less, but what's fifty dollars or so when you're buying used tires and store-brand groceries?)

A good friend of mine is teaching in Aldine. I don't know if Aldine gives bonuses, but last year he taught at Sam Houston. He was fired in June as they "reconstituted" the school, even though his English students had made gains (as evident by his bonus of $2900). In fact, the highest bonus for any math teacher at Sam is $500. All the teacher bonuses above that went to english and social studies teachers, which means their students made substantial gains. And they closed the school why?...Oh, that's right...to save their own administrative behinds.

In a broke system like public education, there are many broken pieces. Incentive pay is one of them. Where I'm at, it's about as good as it will ever get. When I got hired at Lanier, I almost felt like I had won the lottery. But I do have some guilt. The record amount in bonuses paid out this year could've gone towards computer labs, math tutors, afterschool programs, field trips, etc. Teachers are underpaid, that's a given. But you don't fill in a hole with dirt dug from another hole.

Obama's Alternate Inauguration Address

Thank you. My fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. And that is why I am officially resigning as your Commander In Chief.

I know this comes as a crushing disappointment to all of you gathered here today, as well as over half of this great nation. But seriously, I've been thinking a lot about all the problems this country faces, and while I have a lot of confidence in myself, I don't think I'm up to the task of trying fix everything. You got the economy, Iraq, Afghanistan, health care, immigration, education, etc. In short, this country is pretty fucked. I'm a capable and competent man, no doubt, but there is no way I'm going to be able to being to unravel this mess. I'm just being realistic.

I would like to urge you to not be too judgmental. I mean, people get cold feet all the time. Folks back out of buying and selling homes...well, the ones that haven't been foreclosed on. People welsh on dinner plans. Individuals leave fiances at the altar. Happens more often than you think. And sure, it hurts. But 6 months later, after people hit rock bottom and sober up, they start to put their lives back together. The same will be true for you. Needless to say, you will all go on a very self-destructive tear. But a year from now, you'll look back on this and be grateful I had the maturity and wisdom to see that I really didn't want to do this.

I'll admit, the past couple of months have been a blast. Picking people to fill posts. Attending parties and receiving well-wishes from all over the planet. That part has been very enjoyable. But I was sitting there the other night after having watched "Vantage Point," "JFK," and "Wag The Dog" and it hit me: Being President really looks like a lot of work, not to mention insanely dangerous. Are you really expecting to sacrifice my personal safety, as well as the safety of my family just to sit there and take the blame for all the shitty things that happen to this country? No thank you.

Also, Joe Biden wanted me to tell you that he's not interested either. In fact, I think he's already left for Delaware.

So, where do we go from here? I don't bail on people without making sure they are in good hands. That's why I have transfered control of the country to the highest bidder, which, as of earlier this morning, is Mr. Tom Cruise. I know, I was surprised too. But with the economy the way it is, not many companies were in a position to make the bids I expected. But there was Mr. Cruise, at the last minute, with something like, $48 billion. Which is way more than I would've received from lobbyists, no matter how many terms I was in office. So you don't need to worry about me. The Obama's are going to be all right, in our island in an undisclosed location which I've purchased.

So in closing, let me say that it's been fun, America. You have had a hand in shaping history by electing the first black President. But I took it one step further and made history by resigning after only being in office for twenty minutes. Suck on that. I will now turn it over to Tom Cruise, who will begin by explaining his national fertility initiative and policy regarding the sacrificing of first born children to his god. Speaking of god, God bless. Barack out!

The writers of "Lost" re-write the Bible story of Noah: Pt. 1

We open on Noah, startled awake on a pile of straw. He is surrounded by a bizarre menagerie. He stumbles around what appears to be stable after stable inhabited by tigers, moose, anacondas, chinchillas and the like. He catches the glimpse of a figure passing in the distance from one stable to the next. Noah chases after the figure, but when he gets to the stable where he saw it enter, there is only a pair of wolves mating. He turns to look out a nearby window and sees nothing but a vast ocean and pouring rain.

(Whoosh)

Noah is younger and sitting in his tent, drawing crude pictures of what will eventually be the ark. His youngest son Japheth enters and tells his father that he is ready for a second wife. Noah discusses the possibility of marrying Ham's oldest daughter, as there are no other people on the planet at this time, except the evil-doers who will soon be drowned.

(Whoosh)

Mrs. Noah is on the ark, trying to recapture a pair of black widow spiders that got loose. Noah enters the scene and Mrs. Noah scolds him for being drunk and passing out. Noah tells her he had the dream again about the colorful streaks in the sky. Mrs. Noah tells him to go shovel the rhinoceros diarrhea.

Ham shoots down Japheth's idea of using the birds' eggs as food for other animals. Ham is rather curt with Japheth. When Japheth leaves, Ham goes and makes out with a camel.

(Whoosh)

Ham is yelling at his Noah about the giving of his daugther to Japheth. Noah tries to reason with Ham that he has given Ham more cloaks and concubines than Japheth over the past few years and that Ham shouldn't take offense at this. Ham storms off.

(Whoosh)

Sham's wife tells him that he is by far the smartest man on the boat and should be in charge. Sham at first rejects this idea, but starts to consider it once his wife tells him that she had a dream that Sham lead the boat to safety.

(Whoosh)

Sham is tracking the path of a shadow of some sticks he's planted in the dirt. Ham comes up and kicks them away and mocks Sham's weak stature and tells Sham what a loser Sham is. Ham brags to Sham that he's twelve and now old enough to marry his ten year old sister. Sham tells Ham he is a brute. Ham punches Sham and starts beating him until Mrs. Noah breaks it up.

(Whoosh)

Noah walks through the stalls at night, checking on all the animals. Japheth comes to him and tells him he feels bad for taking Ham's daughter as his wife. Noah tells him it's okay. Japheth leaves.

Noah notices the figure in the distance again. He runs to catch up to it. When he gets there, he sees a man. When Noah asks who he is, the man replies that he is one of the "evil-doers" who almost drowned. When Noah tries to remove the man, he tells Noah that he better not tell anyone about him or he will kill everyone aboard.

"Noah"

"Sound of Music" director's cut, if the director is a 7th grade boy

1. The scene where Christopher Plummer slaps Leisl on the ass with the book.

2. The line where the Baroness tells Christopher Plummer that she's known for throwing some rather "gay" parties.

3. The line in "My Favorite Things" where Julie Andrews asks the children what their favorite things are, and one of the kids yells "Pussywillows!"

4. Anytime sometime calls Christopher Plummer's character name, Georg, which is pronounced "Gay-org."

5. The line that Max has where he asks the kids "What's wrong with you bunch of gloomy pusses?"



Total running time of director's cut, not including pause for laughter and follow-up jokes :23 seconds.

From the Diary of Samuel W. Thornchesterworthingbergerton the 23rd of Dec., 1899

A merry Yuletide to all!

As this year draws his last gasps, I feel a matter of great import must be disclosed: namely, our Christmas letter. So sit back with your tea, coffee, or glass of absinthe, and enjoy reliving some fantastic moments in our year.

For starters, my son, Uriah, returned home from the war with the Spaniards. Although my great luxury afforded him a position well out of combat, we are nonetheless grateful for his safe return. Puzzlingly enough, he brought home a war comrade named Ernest, who rarely leaves his side. War has certainly brought these two gentlemen together. Why, one day, I found them in our pantry and Ernest was trying to help Uriah with the buttons on his pantaloons. Those two will have many days with their future wives and families to reminiscence about their war days.

On a sour note, my daughter has eloped with a common "newsie" as they are called. It seems she was rather emotionally invested in their strike over the summer. "Damn the lot of them!" I say. I was a newsie as a lad and was beaten with sticks if my yelling ceased for longer than three seconds and it made me the man I am today! I am never quiet for more than three seconds at a time. Our daughter has married him and is living in utter squalor on the east side of the city. "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Disgraceful daughter disowned by noble father!" I always have the last laugh!

My wife, Helene, had a scare earlier this year when she nearly choked on a biscuit. However, thanks to the whalebone corset holding her waist at an admirable 14 inch circumference, we were able to extract the rogue morsel and help her regain consciousness. She still has trouble navigating corners and doors, but for the most part is well on the road to recovery!

A new marvelous zoo has opened up in the Bronx, and we are quite fond of taking family trips to observe the tiger, the ape, and the elephant. I suggested to Helene that their zoo would be incomplete without her mother on display. I spoke this quite loudly (using my "newsie" voice) and drew quite a few chuckles from the crowd. Helene, had she truly understood my sarcasm (another side-effect of not breathing for several minutes), would've been very upset, but merely said she didn't think her mother would appreciate being hosed down for her morning bath.

Our year has had its ups and downs, and as we near the end of the century, many are predicting doom and the apocalypse. However, I say let it come! And take that bastard William McKinley with it!

Glorious yule!

S.W.T.

Celebrity Dictionary, Vol. 2

LaBeouf (Shia LaBeouf) - (n) The hair that accumulates in a hair brush. "Dude, you must be going bald, because I pull so much LaBeouf out of the brush when you're done with it."

Gambon (Michael Gambon) - (n) The word for the stool which an outfield batboy sits on when not warming up with an outfielder. "Ken Griffey made such a poor throw, it hit the batboy's gambon and broke it. He will have to sit in the dirt now."

Gyllenhaal (Maggie or Jake Gyllenhaal) - 1. (n) a book or binder specifically used by an adolescent boy to hide an erection. 2. (v) The act of using a book or binder to hide an erection. "Look, dude! Either Byron's reading 'The Color Purple' for the eleventh time this week, or he's Gyllenhaaling again."

Duchovny (David Duchovny) - (adj.) Equal feelings of sexual arousal and nausea. "There's something about Kiera Knightly's jaw that is just so Duchovny. It's weird."

Theron (Charlize Theron) - (n) The shreds of toilet paper left on a roll that is empty. "My lady took a dump and then just left a bunch of therons on the roll. Didn't even bother to change it."

Rejected Scripts for On-Line Match.com ads

1. Girl in business attire sitting at home office. Coyly playing with a pencil in her mouth. Types. Smiles. Giggles. Removes glasses. Then removes glass eye.

2. Girl in low cut sweater, sipping coffee at computer. Makes a face at her coffee. Stares out the window. Picks up a stack of papers and rifles through them. Smiles. Giggles. Watches computer. Lights up a cigarette. Looks off into the distance. Takes another sip from her lukewarm coffee and says, "Don't worry Maroney. We'll find the son of a bitch that killed you. I know he's out there." Undoes her ponytail.

3. Girl in button up shirt "discovers" her computer and web-cam. Types. Smiles. Giggles. Takes out small revolver. Spins chamber. Puts it to her head and pulls the trigger. Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes out lip-stick and writes backwards on screen "Green June Uriah." Giggles. Types. Giggles. Takes off shirt to reveal pink tank-top. Lights a candle and holds her arm over the flame. Makes pouty lips.

2. Girl on sofa, clearly passed out. Wakes up. Vomits. Looks into webcam with bloodshot eyes and the vacuous stare of someone trying to piece the previous night together. Small horse wearing top hat enters the background.