Archive for June, 2005

In Which These Bottle Pickers Piss Me Off

June 26th, 2005 2 comments

Every two weeks, the bottle pickers jockey for position as to who gets to pick through the recycle bins for returnables. They come in all shapes and sizes. In theory, I don’t have much of a problem with it, except that town loses money and that’s a tenuous claim.

However, like militant bike riders, they piss me off. I can deal with an enterprising homeless person picking through my trash. I can’t abide some wretched fuck in a customized mini van trolling the streets. There’s a Vietnamese woman who pushes her overflowing shopping cart pretty much in the middle of Mt. Auburn St, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s about to get run over.

Two weeks ago, I looked out the window on to my driveway and found some guy ferreting through my trash cans.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing??”, I asked politely.

He kind of mumbled and continued to poke around.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY DRIVEWAY,” I told him firmly. With an air of regret, he took one more poke and shuffled off.

This morning I woke up to find a dead squirel at the end of the driveway. Freshly dead, I hoped. Last year, an odd smell that flooded through the house turned out to a decaying possum that found its way into the space under our dining room. Since it was Saturday, animal removal for the town didn’t answer the phone, I wound up trying to wrangle the floppy, decaying mess into a trash bag. The squirel, still in rigor mortis, proved easier, except for the tail. I deposited the corpse in the trash.

Just now, the familiar clink-clang of a bottle picker sounded outside. Why not watch!? He worked his way through the recycle bin and moved on to the trash cans. Should I tell him? I’d already had the thought of leaving the squirel right on top of the recycling as a special treat for whoever came by. But thoughts and actions frequently don’t match up.

“If you keep digging through that garbage,” I told him, “you’ll find a dead squirel.”

He jumped a little when I spoke and looked over to me. “Whuuuuuhhh,” he mooed.

“There’s a dead squirel in one of those trash cans. I put him there myself. If you keep rooting around in there, you’ll find him.”

Slowly and methodically, he replaced the lid of the trash can next to the one with the dead squirel. It was too dark to see, but you could almost hear him trying to suss out whether I was lying and protecting a treasure trove of nickels. He picked up his plastic trash bags stuff with bottles and cans. Whether nerves or the DTs got hold of him, I’m not sure, but several of the cans plunked onto the ground. All told it took him a full minute to rearrange everything and shamble across the street to the next raid.

Nobody wants a dead squirel.

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In Which The Hierarchy Takes Shape

June 25th, 2005 No comments

The Boston Globe brought some of it into focus for me today

Front page – Dead pit bulls
Second page – Dead Latino children

Yes, a story about a man that stabbed a pit bull won out of three dead Latino boys in the trunk of a car.

Perhaps Vincente Fox had a point after all.

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In Which I Couldn’t Give You Specifics Because I Have No Intention Of Seeing Them

June 25th, 2005 1 comment

Well, thank god that someone had the brains to turn Bewitched into a feature length film. And that someone had the breathtaking idea to remake The Longest Yard.

I hate Hollywood with all my heart.

Did anyone see Portrait of a Lady? Nichole Kidman used to be an actress and an incredible actress, too. (She’s also one of the two actresses I’d leave my wife for.) I can’t remember what piece of shit Tom Cruise got paid more money than her to star in at the time, but after seeing Portrait of a Lady I knew the marriage was doomed. Brilliant actress married to tiny little hack? What I didn’t anticipate was the adage that that you can’t sleep in shit and come out smelling like a rose. Anybody remember Dead Calm? She won’t make movies like that any more. Fuck you, Tom. Tom and I were both born on the same day of the same year and you got Nichole Kidman and I pissed away my performace career preferring alcohol instead. If I’d married Nichole, Stanley Kubrik wouldn’t have used us in Eyes Wide Shut because I, unlike Tom Cruise, am not made of wood.

Next year, Adam Sandler will star in the feature film adaption of Hello, Larry. Orlando Bloom will pilot Tony Orlando and Dawn to the big screen. Discussions for Can’t Stop The Music and Xanadu have just begun.

Here’s the upsetting part – Bewitched, a wholesome 60’s comedy, clocks in with a PG-13 rating. “You know, Phil,” I can hear the producers saying, “That one thing lacking from that show was profanity and overt sex references. Any chance we can get Nichole to do a little tit-flashing?” The Longest Yard, when first released, carried an R rating. Lots and lots of profanity and possibly a cock or two, but it was a long time ago. Wasn’t there some secretary that got banged? This time around? PG-13! HA! After all, it’s an Adam Sandler film, right? Gotta get that pre-teen audience with the oblivious parents into the theaters. Prediction – less profanity, no nudity.

Clear? Grungy, gritty prison movies get cleaned up. Squeaky clean sitcoms get tarted up.

Fuck Hollywood.

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In Which I Wanna Be Dr. Laura

June 24th, 2005 No comments

To paraphrase the call

I was bustling around getting ready for my six-year old’s birthday party. I’ve got a seven-month old and he was starting to get a little fussy and he probably needed to get fed, but there was a lot of stuff to finish getting done. My Dad’s wife (she’s my age) offered to take my seven-month old for a little bit and I said “sure”. So, after the party, she comes up to me and says, “I just want to tell you before you hear it from somebody else, but I nursed your baby.” My dad calls me later and starts telling me that I’m blowing it out of proportion and that people do it all the time and that it’s my fault and all of that… 

At this point, Dr. Laura has to go to break. A veteran script writer couldn’t have found a better commercial break.

My first thought was – he married someone his DAUGHTER’S AGE?? That’s creepy. Even though the specific age didn’t come up, she could be anywhere from 20 years old or older. (6 + X = Age. And given the folks who call into Dr. Laura there’s no reason not to believe this chick got pregnant at 14.) That’s just…eeeeew.

Now, even up until the early 1900’s, the gentry used wet-nurses to…well, who wants to breastfeed your child when you can pay someone else do it. After all, when Henry V or Henry Ford invites you over, you owe it to them to show and back then the parties were usually child-free. (Note – with Caligula, not so much.) With the rise of baby formula, wet-nursing declined as a profession and many of the little wet-nurse schools quietly closed thier doors. I’m convinced that Bread and Wallet still provides this service for the women of Cambridge, Newton, Wellesley and beyond but I would be hard pressed to prove it. I spent six years in the hippiest, cruchiest pre-school in Cambridge and NOT ONCE saw or heard any of the moms discuss wet-nursing or offer to breastfeed someone else’s child.

I was pretty convinced that Dr. Laura would come back with a piquant “tell her to keep her tits to herself and tell your Dad he’s a pedophile”.

And yet…

I’m really glad we had that break because it gave me a little time to think. You know, my first reaction was “the CHEEK of that woman”. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that (pause) she simply stepped in to take over because your priorities were all messed up. Your main job as a mother is to take care of your baby. It’s not to “bustle” around getting all concerned about a birthday party for a six-year old. Your baby was hungry. And you ignored him. You chose to let your baby go hungry because you wanted to hang up streamers instead and get paper plates and cups and balloons and whatever else you felt like obsessing over. This is your baby. I’m not saying that she should have done it. But at least she knew what the priority was. And you didn’t. So she stepped in. Both of you acted wrong. But your’s was the more horrendous action. 

Wow. Didn’t see THAT coming, huh?

So, why do I wanna be Dr. Laura? Because I want to hear her say

Let me understand this because I’m a little confused. You let your daughter go to Aruba as a graduation present from high school where she could drink and drug and have sex in the backseats of cars with boys and you’re SHOCKED that something bad happened? I don’t care if there WERE school chaperones. Chaperones are meant to be ditched at that age. You let this happen and you’re bad parents and NO ONE should feel sorry for you. That’s just my unhumble opinion. If you’d like to give me a call, my number is 1-800-DRLAURA… 

While we’re on the subject, can we all agree to stop watching TV news? Let’s take a look at a snippet from on this complete waste of the new cycle.

Natalee’s mother, Beth Holloway Twitty, said Wednesday she’s sure the four young men in custody — but not formally charged in the case — have more information to divulge. 

“I have no doubt that they know what and who and where and when and why and how. I have no doubt,” Twitty said on NBC’s “Today Show.”

“There are some other individuals, though, that need to be pursued,” she added.

Thank god she’s in charge of the investigation. Thank god that CNN devoted 1100 words to this story, contrasted with 940 words on Cheney saying that at some point in time we’ll win in Iraq, and 430 words about John Conyers’ Downing Street Memo hearings that got wedged into a basement (a fact not mentioned in the article). Thank merciful Christ that the Mainstream Media understands that we’re willing to take the opinions of parents as facts. “Well, if Ms. Holloway Twitty thinks they’re guilty, then they must be guilty! After all, she said it on The Today Show!”

Please. Let’s work together and kill Mainstream Media.

In Which The Trend Reverse Somewhat

June 23rd, 2005 1 comment

What, I ask you, is more American than kicking someone out of their home because you think you have more right to the land than they do?

Answer – Nothing!

To quote John Cougar Mellencamp – ain’t that America. So, shut up, working-class New London residents. It’s all for the greater good. You’ll be taken care off, don’t worry. We’ll find a new patch of land that you can rebuild your teepees on. Of course, it won’t be anywhere close to where you live now and the climate will be completely different, but you’ll get used to that. And maybe, if you’re lucky and make enough noise, we’ll let you build casinos if you can prove your ties to the working class.

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In Which…Well…Just Kinda Busy Lately

June 21st, 2005 No comments

But in the meantime, here’s one of the sketches for an upcoming radio show on MFO.

I promise to try to think about paying more attention to this. It’s not like there’s nothing to talk about. It’s just really pretty outside, lately.

Citizenship Quiz

All right, if everyone will sit down well get started with the class. El sit-o down-o, Senor Wetback. Welcome to the Rev. James Dobson School of Citizenship. Now, my name is Mr. Wingnut and my job is to teach all you people that snuck into the country illegally what you need to know to pass the Immigration and Naturalization test to become citizens and start bleeding jobs away from real Americans legally. Its not a job I particularly like, but since I got downsized by GM itll have to do until the eBay thing starts working. Now. Lets go around the room and introduce ourselves. You. (Overly pronouncing everything) Whats your name?

Me llamo es


My name is Juan Maria Jorge Maria Martinez

Great. You. Whats your name?

Mah name is Jean Pierre

What are you, Frech?


Get outta here! Pack up! THERE WILL BE NO FRENCH IN THIS CLASS! YOU! Whats your name, and it better not be French.

I am Hatian.

Hatian. Thats a new name. Thats usually the name of a country. You.

My name is Katarina Petrovaskianovavich.

Kat. All right. First question. Who was the first President of the United States. Hatian.

George Washington.

Wrong. Jesus.

But, sir, according to

According to the ACLU the first President was George Washington, but Jesus founded the United States and that makes him President. (Pause) WRITE IT DOWN! Second question. What are the two branches of government?

But there are three branches of government.

Not for long. NAME EM!

The Executive Branch, the Legislative Branch and

Thats enough. Good. Question three. Who wrote the Star Spangled Banner

Francis Scott Key

WRONG. According to the ACLU, he wrote it, but Jesus wrote the Star Spangled Banner. Question four. How long does a US Senator serve for?

Six years.

Partial credit. He serves until we find out hes gay UNLESS hes voted for anti-gay legislation. (Pause) WRITE IT DOWN! Question five. Which President is called the Father of our Country? (Pause) Cmon, people, youll never receive welfare if youre not quicker than this. Paco?


CORRECT! Thank you! Question six. What is the US Capitol Building?

It isatarget for terrorists that must be defended at all cost even at the sacrifice of some personal freedoms?

A+! Now, one last question and well go for a break. Why did we liberate Iraq?

To make the world safe for democracy

To punish Saddam Hussein for destroying the World Trade Center

No, no, to make the world safe for Jesus

A+, A+ and A+! Now, why dont you guys run down to McDonalds and Ill join you in a minute. Ive just gotta make a quick call. (Pause) Hello? Dr. Dobson? Yes, sir. There are three less American citizens in the world, sir.

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In Which I Apologize

June 15th, 2005 No comments

I’m sorry for the last few outbursts. Really I am. It’s just that I’ve been so concerned about the missing white girl from Alabama whose parents let her go to Aruba for a graduation present. Missing upper-middle class white girls always put me on edge.

Again. I apologize.

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In Which I’ll Take Advantage Of My Pissy-ness

June 15th, 2005 2 comments

Fuck “a jury of your peers”. Just fuck ’em. Fuck “reasonable doubt”, too. And judges. Fuck them, too. Fuck everybody that doesn’t agree with conventional wisdom. (That phrase, fyi, was coined by John Kenneth Galbraith as a slam. “We associate truth with convenience….We also find highly acceptable what contributes most to self-esteem.”)

Michael Jackson was guilty. Who the FUCK were these jurors that couldn’t see that??? Didn’t they watch the news? Didn’t they read the papers? Didn’t they listen to Leno? No, they sat in a fucking COURTROOM listening to “evidence”.

It’s much more convenient to see Jackson as a psycho scumbag like that weird kid in high school that got the shit kicked out of him because…well…because he was weird. “But Jackson settled out of court which proves his guilt!” You know what? McDonalds settled out of court on the lawsuit with the woman who sued because their coffee was too hot. What does that mean? That McDonalds deserves the blame for the fact that she had a cup of scalding hot coffee between her legs? Sometimes, and this may come as a shock, people and companies settle out of court because a lawsuit proving their innocence might cause more trouble than it’s worth.

Everything in this case hinged on the honesty of the mother. Who wasn’t honest. I was listening to Dr. Laura the other night (shut UP!) when she told a woman who was abused by her step-father that her mother was evil. “She let this happen to you. You owe her nothing.” In allowing her child to go to Neverland went from mother to starfucker. She lost the case there and then.

Had Jackson been convicted, would they have pressed charges of conspiracy to abuse children on the mother?

Jackson was cleared of all charges. If you don’t like it, then move to Iran where their justice system works differently. The media can convict anyone. Even you.

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In Which There Will Be No Apology

June 15th, 2005 1 comment


An autopsy on Terri Schiavo backed her husband’s contention that she was in a persistent vegetative state, finding that she had massive and irreversible brain damage and was blind, the medical examiner’s office said Wednesday. It also found no evidence that she was strangled or otherwise abused.

I really should be listening to wingnut radio right now, but it’s pretty pointless. They’ll concentrate on how Terri COULD have gotten better if only that wretched, deceiving, deceitful, money-grubbing, polygamist husband of hers had taken proper care of her to begin with. All the pretty speeches about how she could get better, how she followed ballons with her eyes, how she spoke in full sentences and put makeup on all by herself…these points will be glossed over. The most that will be said is a pontificating “we don’t know exactly how the human brain works and remember that firefighter in Buffalo?”.

But let’s call a spade a spade. Wingnuts focus on the present when it suits them. “It doesn’t MATTER that we went into Iraq with false pretenses. Stop thinking about the past. Focus on the present and let’s win this war on terrorism that has no end!” What we’ll see with Schiavo is just the opposite. They’ll poo-poo the fact that they got the facts wrong. The doctors were right. There was no there there.

Will the Schindlers look at this information and, as good Christians, admit that they were wrong? Fat fucking chance. They dug themselves too deeply. This won’t be about God. This will be about personal pride – the opposite of God. They will not dismantle the cottage industry cult they built around their brain-dead daughter. If anything, they will actively grow it. They will attempt parley this damning autopsy into a vindication rather than a sound, scientific refuatation of every single syllable they uttered.

If you’ve just stumbled across this blog, it should be obvious that I’m not a Big-G God person. It’s people like the Schindlers that cause this. That people that make me want to believe in Big-G God are those who emabrace their children’s murderers and forgive them in the name of Jesus. The Schindlers have no interest in this whatsoever. Their just hoping for a couple dozen interviews on Fox News.

Thinking about the Schindlers again has literally made me physically ill.*

*(And I’m mean literally, literally)

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In Which I Wasn’t Happy With It But Who Am I?

June 13th, 2005 No comments

There are times when you perform that you know that you’ve nailed it with the force of a pnuematic nail gun. It’s completely obvious. The laughs come easily. You get applause breaks. The audience (who is really the only judge) loves it. You can usually tell when you “eaten your own cock” which is comic slang for bombing horribly which in layman’s terms means sucking.

Then there’s all the other times.

In these cases, you can’t really say you did badly and you can’t say you did well and you spend the night working out which side the scale comes down on because, at least for me, comedy is a pretty binary thing – it’s either a 1 or a 0. You can write prose that’s sort of funny and then go back and shape into something that’s actually funny but a performance is yes or no. The default for me is that if I didn’t kill then it sucked. That’s not always the case, of course, and that’s why you need people you can trust who’ll be straight with you about your level of suckitude.

I did not ace the audition last night. “The Guy” did not rush up to me with a contract ready to be signed and the keys to a transitionary apartment for my use while I worked out how to move the family to New York.

The question, though, is was it interesting enough to merit a second look at me? Could there be a re-occuring character in Mr. Neck? I heard that Conan is trying for a harder edge lately so it might bode well that a couple walked out of my set in disgust. I’ve been praying for that since I started this character, so I’ve acheived that milestone.

Anywho, I’ve got no expectations that anything will come of this which is probably exactly where I need to be.

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