Alright, I know Tim Tebow’s popular here in America, but since his trade to New York, it seems his fame has gone global. This is just getting absurd, as we now have “The Tebower” located in some French museum. And look, he’s not even doing it right. He’s supposed to be on one knee with his right hand held in a fist against his forehead while his left hand reaches down to hold a football helmet.
Ugh, fuckin’ French people — get a clue.
I’ve been called a grammar nerd, but I don’t mind. It’s something that’s important to me, and having put myself so far into debt by chasing my degree in English, it pains me every time I catch a glimpse of society’s lax attitude toward proper grammar. The fact that as technology has progressed, the general population’s understanding of basic grammar has severely declined, is no secret to anyone. But it’s embarrassing — seriously. Almost daily, I see people making mistakes with very basic things, like periods and comas. Typically, when I call somebody out on it, I get a response that’s something like, “Dude, whatever, it’s just a Facebook post.” But it’s not just a Facebook post. It’s putting yourself out there for the world to see with a giant sign around your neck that says: I Haven’t Learned Basic English Yet. It’s really not even that hard. Here’s the difference:
10. DORMITORY = DIRTY ROOM
9. THE MORSE CODE = HERE COME DOTS
8. ELEVEN PLUS TWO = TWELVE PLUS ONE
7. DEBIT CARD = BAD CREDIT
6. THE EYES = THEY SEE
5. ASTRONOMERS = NO MORE STARS
4. CLINT EASTWOOD = OLD WEST ACTION
3. ANN COULTER = A LONER CUNT
2. WILLARD ROMNEY = DRILL RAW MONEY
1. KATE MIDDLETON = NAKED TIT MODEL
Barack Obama and Mitt Romney are, by any standard, exceptional people. They’re extremely well-educated (both have a pair of Ivy League degrees). They’re quite wealthy (Mitt more so). They each got their first marriage right and have produced multiple aesthetically-pleasing children (Mitt’s on top here as well, barring Barack surging into the lead when Michelle unexpectedly announces quadruplets). They’re above average in height and apparently in good shape: while Mitt has been reluctant to release his tax returns, he has enthusiastically shared his Body Mass Index and it’s quite impressive; I expect Barack’s is similarly exceptional. Yet watching these two magnificent men, who if they ever did wind up single would surely prove incredibly popular on Match.com, I can’t help but think, They should be doing something else, particularly you, Mitt. [Read more →]
I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:
Emperor’s Decree No. 7N: Like anyone else, the Emperor has need of an occasional conversion cord or of a particular plug-doohickey in order to connect his laptop to the TV or something. For that, he usually goes to Radio Shack. But, after years of this, he has decided to stop dumping riches from the royal coffers into that establishment. The reason? They hire turds. Arrogant turds; rude turds; insecure turds; turds who are so eager for actual human contact that they will attempt to prolong said contact even if it means starting an argument from word one — or, perhaps, especially if it means that.
Case in point: “Hi,” says the Emperor, merrily, “I have this Dell laptop…” “Well,” interrupts the Radio Shack turd, in exactly the same voice as the comic book store guy on The Simpsons, “that’s your first problem. Harharhar.” Many incidents such as this have occurred, but the ever-lovin’ topper was the Emperor’s last visit, yesterday, at the end of a long quest for a cord with which to send a signal from VGA output into an RCA video input, during which visit the Radio Shack turd studied his iPhone as if it were a naked woman (which, I am sure, he will one day see in person — I mean, it has to happen everyone eventually, right?) never once making contact with the royal eyes. “No,” he said. “Go online. We don’t have that in stock.” [This last bit, said with an inflection he might have used if I had asked him for mint-chocolate-chip ice cream — as if only the most uninformed asshat on the planet could possibly think they would carry such an item.] Enough is enough. Management may no longer hire these antisocial turds. We realize that a gig at Radio Shack is like being in Best Buy’s minor-leagues, but, nevertheless, standards must go up.
The Punishment: [Read more →]
You’re not going to win this one. The replacement refs are here, and there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of progress being made between the NFL and the League of Extraordinary Officials Who Can Actually Figure Out Where to Spot a Ball Within Eleven Minutes. But this doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy football. Don’t get mad, get glad. Here’s how:
No sport translates to television quite like football does. I enjoy watching them all, but there is just something about football that lends itself perfectly to an afternoon on the couch in front of a giant screen. With so many sports, I would actually rather be there in person. Sitting at a baseball game is fantastic, for example. Football, particularly the professional variety, is a lot of fun to watch in person, but you actually lose a lot by not watching on T.V. Much of the experience that we have watching the NFL broadcasts can be traced back to the Sabol family and NFL Films. Steve Sabol, the real genius behind all of that, died on Tuesday of brain cancer at the age of 69. [Read more →]
10. The “school nurse” is just a cafeteria lady with access to the Internet
9. Instead of buses, anyone who lives more than a mile from school is issued a large plastic hitchhiking thumb
8. Gym class consists of walking on treadmills that power the ovens for home economics
7. The restrooms have a cover charge
6. The guidance counselor has been replaced by Siri
5. The art teacher is selling tattoos at five bucks a pop
4. Every lunch consists of Mystery Stew
3. Music class is nothing but YouTube videos
2. Any spare fingers that wind up on the shop class floor are recycled to the cafeteria
1. They’ve just reclassified pepper spray as a vegetable
Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.
Have you been feeling a bit dizzy lately? Does time feel like it’s been flying by faster than ever? Experiencing ringing in your ears? Seeing flashes of light or fleeting glimpses of things that aren’t there? If you’re not head-over heels in love, pregnant, or smokin’ da ganja, you may be going through what’s known as ascension symptoms. What are they, why are they happening, what do they mean, and will they ever go away? If you’d like answers to questions like these, the latest installment of Layman just might be the prescription you’ve been looking for. [Read more →]
DAZS — In a finding full of surprises, scientists have discovered key factors for one major aspect of childhood corpulence. One surprise: A gene with an auditory behavioral trigger. Another: You must be on vacation. Surprise #3: The gene resides not in the children, but in their parents.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t like Nazis very much. Call me crazy, but all that Judenhass, genocide, invading other people’s countries, war and Thousand Year Reich stuff – it’s just not for me. It’s kind of, you know, evil.
It’s always a good thing to discover a new series that you really enjoy. A while back, I reviewed the third Dirty Business Mystery, Dead Head by Rosemary Harris, I immediately picked up the first book, Pushing Up Daisies and made sure to keep my eyes open for new installments in the Dirty Business series. I devoured Slugfest
Paula Holiday left New York City for the peace and quiet of small-town Connecticut. She opened a landscaping business and she’s getting by, making friends with her neighbors, and occasionally stumbling across mysteries. Slugfest takes her back to NYC for The Big Apple Flower Show. An oddball local artist who produces sculptures from rusty metal pipes, old bicycles and other found items, is too much of a recluse to man a booth at the show, so Paula is selling sculpture and visiting her old haunts. Her plans for a peaceful week in the city get derailed when mysterious pranks — the so-called Javits Curse — get out of hand and bodies start turning up.
Slugfest is great addition to the series. It’s still Paula, but she’s away from her small-town neighbors, even if she’s still surrounded by flowers and plants. She tries to help out a couple of kids she meets at the show and ends up the new BFF of a mobster’s wife. There’s a killer on the loose and she’s being spied on by a Peeping Tom who criticizes her fashion choices:
(Note to self: permanently borrow red dress from Lucy. I will never be lonely as long as I’m wearing this. How did I get to be this age without knowing every woman needs a red dress?)
The twists and turns keep you turning pages, but what really makes this a fun read are the big personalities at the flower show. From the mobsterand the high school kids to the elderly benefactress and the tough-as-nails security guard, these people are funny and sweet and sometimes a little scary. It made a great poolside read and I will definitely be looking for the next Dirty Business mystery.
Fore more on Rosemary Harris, check out her website and Facebook page.
I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:
Emperor’s Decree No. 04-67739: At televised baseball games, people are no longer permitted to yammer into cellular phones while waving to the camera in order to get the attention of the person to whom they are speaking. Those who do this (in the Emperor’s opinion) are addle-pated ninnyhammers. (Yeah, you heard me.) The Imperial Minister of Education/Effective Torture Practices concurs with this assessment. Through the punishment (to follow) a great peripheral social benefit (beyond the mere elimination of myriad undignified pinheads) will also be realized.
The Punishment: All baseball stadiums will be fitted with high-voltage wiring in the seats. Anyone seen, at a ballpark, talking on a cellular phone and flailing his arms about like a juvenile orangutan, will be immediately incinerated by means of a remote button-push. (The button resides on the arm of the Emperor’s TV-watchin’ chair.) The above-mentioned peripheral benefit: Imperial mathematicians calculate that, after only a single baseball season, the average intelligence quotient in America will have increased by as much as fifty points, owing to the removal of numerous fools from the overall equation.
The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.
Philip K. Dick was one of the most important science fiction authors of the 20th century. His novels explored issues of identity, religion, metaphysics, and politics in a way that few authors, including so-called “literary” authors, ever did. During his lifetime, he published more than 40 novels, and 100 short stories. He won the prestigious Hugo Award for his classic novel The Man in the High Castle in 1962, and the John W Campbell Award for Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said in 1974. His novels and stories have inspired at least ten movies, including Blade Runner, Total Recall, Total Recall, and Minority Report. In the years since his untimely death from a stroke in 1982, his reputation has only increased, and his works have gained a respectable following among academics and mainstream literary critics. The Library of America has published three volumes of his work.
When it was announced last year that an unpublished manuscript had been discovered among his papers, it sent shockwaves through the literary community. Now that the novel has been published, however, one can’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. [Read more →]
Last November, I ran my first-ever race. After months of training, I participated in the Philadelphia Half Marathon, and I wrote about what a thrill it was. Today, ten months later, I ran my second race. I am not sure why I have never done a 5K…I seem to be attracted to the longer races. The event on this beautiful Sunday was the Rock ‘n’ Roll Philadelphia 1/2 Marathon, formerly known as the Philadelphia Distance Run. It was a similar course to the PHM, but not exactly the same. As I ran, I found myself thinking about what a major industry this thing has become. [Read more →]
10. Congressional Ethics
9. Competitive Yawning
8. Forensic Mythology
7. The Films of Jean-Claude Van Damme
6. Typewriter Repair
5. Ogling
4. Amish Microwave Cooking
3. The Wisdom of Dr. Phil
2. The Politics of Dancing
1. Dressage
Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.
One of the things you discover when dealing with a spouse’s treatment for cancer is that there’s always either a “but” or an “and” with this example of why I really am torn between my “No God but Tiffany and Snooki is her prophet!” or “God is just a perverted, evil sonofabitch!” She sleeps a lot, and I brood. Brooding is not the best way to write; yet, sometimes it seems you should. This week is one of them…
Now, I don’t like Ross Douthat particularly. Since David Brooks is the Times approach to William F. Buckley only nicer, Douthat is their George Will, only tieless and with a 
beard. To the left of Fox, to the right of sense most of the time, but when he’s right, he’s right and articulate. He has a pretty accurate take on the middle east and the current unpleasantness directed at the United States by the latest outbreak of Jeffersonian democracy. He proposes that we need to avoid the cringing and the condescending in our analysis of what’s going on and what our alternatives are going forward. Yes, the video is awful on all counts, and the irrational reaction of the mobs really makes the whole Arab Spring thing seem more like the First Directorate of the French Revolution as opposed to some Islamic Renaisance. But, that’s not what’s happening here — this is realpolitik played by the Islamic power players. From our perspective, these guys may seem to be totally loony, but we’re watching different factions play out. There are grievances against us in the Arab world — some valid, some debatable, some batshit insane — and we need to acknowledge that, deal with it like adults and make some adult choices. Douthat is less than optimistic about that particular future. [Read more →]
“Vanitas vanitatum, omnia vanitas.” That, of course, is the opening sentence of the book of Ecclesiastes, as translated into Latin by St. Jerome. “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” as the King James Version has it.
The book takes it name from its speaker. “Eccleasiastes” is a Greek rendering of the Hebrew “Qoholeth,” variously thought to mean Preacher or Teacher, though it could also be understood as Member of the Assembly.
He identifies himself in the opening sentence as son of David, king in Jerusalem, and tradition has held that the author was Solomon. Be that as it may, he is someone who has seen enough of life to no longer be taken in by it. [Read more →]
There is a website called 90 Days, 90 Reasons, which features powerful, persuasive essays by famous people, explaining why the current president, Barack Obama, should be re-elected. I was so moved by some of these essays, that I decided to compose a submission myself. Unfortunately, despite the fact that my Dark Knight Rises review got almost 60 Facebook likes, I am apparently not famous enough to be included. This, despite the fact that my essay is as persuasive and powerful and whatever the opposite of cynical is as any of the essays that have been published so far.
Despite the lack of interest, I feel it would be a disservice to the world to not post my essay somewhere, so I’m posting it here. I hope it persuades you to do the right thing.
Reason #1: Tee Are You Ess Tee
The reason that you should vote for Barack Obama for reelection can be boiled down to one word: I trust Barack Obama. And where our government is concerned, there is nothing more important than trust. Obama understands this. That is why he has worked hard to earn our trust, and he hasn’t stopped earning that trust. [Read more →]
I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:
Emperor’s Decree No. 911: We should always remember 9/11, but not with patriotic pep rallies and not with fist-pumping; for, on this day, the extremist obsessions and narrow-minded religious views of a few arrogant, evil bastards resulted in the deaths of thousands of innocent people at the Word Trade Center in New York City, in a horrific crash in Shanksville, Pa., and at the Pentagon, in Washington, DC. On this day, trembling fathers wept into phones, saying goodbye to their children and wives, having given up, knowing that there was no way down or out, fighting not to sound terrified through the line — knowing that this final goodbye was worth trading away a last, useless burst of hope. On this day, wives did the same, fighting preservation instincts for a few seconds’ contact with their husbands and babies. And on this day, horrible circumstances made men and women who were just doing their duty into legends of self-sacrifice. This is the day when a thousand stories of strength and courage were passionately written, only to be sucked down in a cascade of molten metal and poison dust, never to be read by anyone. This was the day on which a new generation of children learned that grown-ups could actually take civilian life and expect sainthood in return.
This was the day of Allah’s misery. This was the day that, if God can cry, there must have been a hurricane in heaven — his tears like bullets in raging winds; angels covering their heads with trembling wings — for a humankind that had turned him into a goal line to be crossed; a prize to be quibbled over; a concept for which to slaughter; a cause for torture and alienation. [Read more →]
