Saturday, September 10, 2005

Morgan Spurlock in AN OSCAR STORY by SamuraiFrog

Hey, I'm Morgan Spurlock, Genius. Alone among the human race, I realized that eating at McDonald's can make you fat. And I used that realization to make a character piece about myself that I was somehow able to pass off as a documentary! Yay, me! Hey, want to see me do something funny? I mean, I am a total publicity whore!

Hee hee hee! Me want Oscar! Me hug like little boy with need for self-esteem through attention! Me take home! Me want! Me me me me me me me!

Heh. Stupid white people.

Motherfucker. I'm the humor talent in this room. Represent!

Taco chihuahua le mierda chilupa de yip yip!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Look, honey, a retard. Isn't it cute?

That's good. Heh heh heh.

Mm, yes, humorous.


HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Oh, Christ, that is pants-shittingly funny! Wha-HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Oh, there it goes! HAHAHAHAHA! POOP!

Seriously, Marty, take a pill. It's not THAT funny.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! It's the funniest fuckin' thing anyone's ever done! I can't breathe! HAHAHAHAHA!

Stupid American idiots. This is not funny. I am going home.

I hear you, Frenchie. I mean, I don't even dig this, and I'm Jamie Foxx, you feel me?

Would you like to take me home so that I CAN feel you, Mr. Black Man?

I'm high on X right now, so this is mildly amusing.

Nobody knows who I am.

(*unintelligible muttering*)

WHOOOO! I LOVE ATTENTION! Hey, watch me, I'm gonna hump this thing right here!

My God...will he do it? Will he cross the final frontier? What a brave, brave, needy man, desperate for validation.

Hmm, I wonder how I'll do my hair tonight...

Yay! Everyone's watching me! Hey, watch me lay down Oscar and give it what for! 30 days, baby!

Alright, this has gone on long enough. I'm going to ditch this scene and find me some bitches. Peace out, yo.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *choke* Oh, man, that is comedy genius, I tell ya! I can't get enough! HAHAHAHAHA!

Hey, Leo, how'd you like to play this guy in a movie? I smell Oscar! Hey, that could be the name of the movie: "I Smell Oscar," a moderately competent workmanlike film by Martin Scorsese.


It's as though I can feel every individual strand of hair... Wooooo...

Enougha this shit! I'm putting the focus of the Oscars back to its rightful place: the old!

Oh, yeah! Gimme that! Yeah, you like that, huh, bitch! Take it! Fuck you, Spurlock!

Coward. I knew Spurlock would bitch out. They always do.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, fuck, it's even funnier now! Oh, Jesus! *wheeze* Ow, my heart! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Man, this is some fucked up, unfunny shit.

Oscars, man. I mean...woooow, Oscars...

Wow, hey, Warren Beatty! I need more attention! Can I hump YOU for the cameras?

I would so do me right now.


Friday, September 09, 2005

Football Season Is Over, by Hunter S. Thompson

"No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun - for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax - This won't hurt."

This was Gonzo's suicide note, which is being reprinted everywhere (including Rolling Stone). I think suicide is cheap and cowardly, and Dr. Thompson's was no different. I'm sorry he's gone. We need him right about now. Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Goin' Down to the City of New Orleans

Are you looking to help out victims of Hurricane Katrina, but (rightly) assume that writing checks to relief funds is not going to help immediately? You can make a donation or volunteer here at the Veterans for Peace. They accept PayPal donations if you want to help the poor citizens out. It's not like the feds are doing anything about it.

That's been the news for several days, hasn't it? The federal government's response to Hurricane Katrina. It's just coming out today that Michael Brown, head of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, waited for five hours after the hurricane hit to seek approval from the Department of Homeland Security to jackboot 1000 of its workers to, you know, save the lives of Americans. Isn't the entire point of Homeland Security to save the lives of Americans, or is it just the new Republican Sturmabteilung? I mean, those people in New Orleans are already dead, right? Shouldn't we be focusing on protecting our children from the sight of boobs? Jesus Christ, people, I haven't seen a case of mixed-up priorities this bad since... well, since we were attacked by Saudi terrorists and invaded Iraq instead. Or since Darth Dubya felt that sitting in a classroom with children while he decided what to do was actually more important than responding to that same attack. For fuck's sake, why is this guy still in office?

Bush actually has the balls to blame bureaucracy for the massive failure to respond to the needs of the citizens he dares to preside over. Shameful, "sir," shameful. Mr. Bush, you are, of course, the head of the very bureaucracy you're condemning. Doesn't this seem like some kind of creepy way for him to just take more direct control of the government. That fucker will use any emergency as an excuse to give himself and his daddy's cronies more power. Excuse me, Mr. Bush, but where exactly where you during the shit-storm that destroyed the lives of thousands of people? Playing golf in Crawford? Walking around in your cowboy costume and congratulating yourself on how much "work" you did on your annual month-long vacation? You are a disgrace.

And I just want to say this to anyone who voted for Bush and is just now realizing what an incapable idiot he is: this is partially your fault. You knew he was a bad guy when he went he was begging to be re-elected. He was sending your kids to die in Iraq so that gas prices could be raised and we could install a religious government over there (maybe). You knew this. And you still voted for him, because he was more attractive than John Kerry, or because he was less boring. You stupid idiots went for the flashy box, and now that you've seen it was just a polished turd inside, you're crying over it. Well, fuck you. You learned your lesson the hard way. A lot of good your sudden realization does us now.

Sean Hannity was blowharding on the radio last week about the number of Homeland workers in New Orleans right now. He asked something like: "What if a terrorist attack occured right now? All of our workers in New Orleans make us vulnerable!" Again, saving the lives of Americans seems to be less important than protecting the pampered from a bomb. But his idiot ranting does bring up an important point that I'll let Senator Susan Collins (R-Maine) make: "If our system did such a poor job when there was no enemy, how would the federal, state and local governments have coped with a terrorist attack that provided no advance warning and that was intent on causing as much death and destruction as possible?"

Well, that's a great question. It kind of shows America, and the world, how badly prepared for another terrorist strike our government really is. We should have been evacuating people long before the hurricane hit. We all knew they had to get out. Where was government aid then? Well, it was on vacation. All of our helicopters were busy conquering Iraq in the name of Halliburton. The government had been warned that the levees wouldn't hold in Louisiana if a flood hit as early as 2003. Don't let anyone tell you different. Don't let Bush's theatrical rendering of surprise fool you. The flashy box has nothing in it.

How many more times must you be taught that the government does not give a shit about you? It's only there to perpetuate and protect itself. And until those rich assholes are in the same boat we are, and as scared and vulnerable as we are, it will not change.

We're all in this together.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

It's just that it's so indicative of why I hate the whole human race...

So, while people are starving, dying, and not getting the help they need in New Orleans, my downstairs neighbors take it on themselves to call the management office and complain about my bird feeders.

I'm going into my fifth year at Northern Illinois University; since the year 2001, I've lived in the same crappy apartment behind the school's football stadium and endured noise, a new set of loud downstairs neighbors every year, and the idiot parking situation caused by a bunch of little rich kids from the suburbs who confuse their parents' ability to buy them a new car with their own ability to drive and to park between the lines. At the end of every summer, a new couple of assholes moves in downstairs and immediately start making my life irritating.

This year, I thought I was in for less of a headache. We've got two young girls down there, and young girls tend to generally be quieter than young guys. I guess I got spoiled early on, because the first year we lived here, my quiet, bookish, boring yuppie sister lived downstairs with her equally quiet, bookish, boring fiance. Everyone since then has been the kind of asshole who loves a loud stereo and can't close a door without slamming it (seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you people?). Well, we haven't had a loud stereo yet, but this bird feeder thing... oh, this bird feeder thing.

Let me give you some background on it. My girlfriend doesn't exactly have a whole lot that makes her genuinely happy these days, and as time goes on, she gets more and more emotionally fragile about it. At some point, though, she started putting plants and birdseed out on the balcony, and that's been making her happy. Hell, it makes me happy, too. I like looking out at the birds and bastard squirrels and flowers growing and grasshoppers. Each year, her garden gets bigger and bigger, and I like having something alive here like that.

Well, those picky birds have a tendency to knock seeds all over the porch. When we noticed it, we bought a shower curtain and nailed it to the balcony floor, so that the seeds wouldn't fall down onto the balcony below ours. But the more birds keep coming around, the more seeds get knocked and thrown around, and the more tends to fall. It's hard to contain, but we control it a lot more easily than we used to. The last people who lived downstairs were hardly model, but I didn't complain about their stereo because they never once complained about the birdseed. If any hit their porch, they were good about just sweeping it up before they sat down. Now they were neighbors.

But these new ones... They just called the office and complained, and the office told us to take down the bird feeders. Yesterday was spent sadly, tearily pulling everything out but the plants and throwing it all away. And granted, it could be worse: we still have our plants, and we still have a dish of water, and looking out right this second, I can see the squirrel walking around and picking up some of the leftover seeds. But I miss those birds all over the place.

I think that the reason we weren't given a chance to stop them from making a mess is because I've had a history of complaining. If someone downstairs is playing their stereo so loud that it shakes my goddamn floor, I'll complain. Complaining is good for the managers, I think; keeps 'em from getting too soft just sitting around and collecting rent checks. And I've been a good tenant since October 2001. We've never been late with the rent, not once. We've never destroyed the place or had the cops called on us. Because we're both almost 30, we're the only responsible people in this building. We're the only ones who call and ask them to change the batteries in the smoke detector in the hallway. We're the only ones who tell them when the lights are out, or when some drunken idiot has kicked in the window next to the building door. Everyone else here is a child with no sense of responsibility.

And there's the problem. There's the reason I'm so pissed. Rather than come right upstairs and tell me they don't like having to clean up birdseed and asking me if I can try something else to keep it from dropping on their balcony, the kids downstairs just went right to the office and complained through tenuous authority figures. Rather than be adults and talk to me directly, they whined to a symbolic mommy and daddy. They weren't responsible about it. They didn't have the courtesy to say they had a personal problem with it. They hid behind procedure and telephones and pettiness. And it really pisses me off.

There have been two nights so far where they've had parties on the back porch past two in the morning. Loud enough to wake me up, and to wake Becca, who gets up for work at six. And they have a problem with bird feeders? Fuck them. Why is it so hard to ask that everyone leave me alone if I agree not to bother them?

The bird feeders are gone. Those two have taken my nature away from me. One of the few reminders I have that urbanization hasn't completely taken over this area yet. Well, I hope they don't mind having the cops called on every single party they have over the next school year that I decide is even a little too loud. They blew their one chance to deal with me like grown-ups, and they chose to waste it. I hope they're prepared for their little paper war. I know I am.

Anyone have any ideas they want to share? Because I am heavily into revenge.