I call bullsh*t!

There's nothing meaner than a beat-up and bloodied rain-soaked animal backed into a corner; and that visual lends itself nicely to the right-wing apparatuses currently attempting to lay siege to Al Gore's recent accomplishments.

On Sunday evening, the film An Inconvenient Truth won two Oscars. Fine. Ben Affleck won an Oscar too so that kind of tells you the weight those things carry these days. But the real issue is the fact that Monday morning an organization calling itself The Tennessee Center for Policy Research, an "independent, nonprofit and nonpartisan research organization", issued a press release about Al Gore's "extravagant energy use". Truth is, this group is the farthest thing from all the things that it claims to be. If you haven't already had the pleasure of unmasking these petty schmucks yourself, allow me:

• They're not "nonpartisan"; they have links on their site to some of the most right-wing organizations on K street. The American Enterprise Institute is one of them
• Before the release of their "findings", The Tennessee Center for Policy Research was practically non-existent according to their web footprint as proven by Alexa
• The media bottom-feeders that picked up on this story immediately were Fox News and The Drudge Report - both fine purveyors of objectivity and well-vetted information
  
• Gore's energy use, when conventional, is offset by the purchase of carbon offsets and switching to green energy sources to compensate for the family’s conventional carbon footprint
• Keith Olberman does a nice job in summarizing all of this. Regardless of what you think of his leanings, watch the clip. You'll see some actual journalism

I feel for the right-wing lemmings. I too lie awake at night fearing that Al Gore may ride into the White House on an insidious platform of clean energy, responsibility to future generations and global cooperation. Mommy...hold me.

Morons.

On Notice

These people annoy us (Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson (R-TX) and Left Behind series "authors" Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins)

Cerebral Itch Oscar Party Wrap-Up

In the shadow of the Governor's Ball, The Vanity Fair party and the Elton John AIDS bash; Cerebral Itch threw a little fête to rival them all. From poolside of the swanky West Hollywood Chamberlain Hotel, Cerebral Itch laid out the red carpet to welcome some of Hollywood's brightest luminaries and celebrate achievement in film and smoke being anally administered.

Being that it was our first year, certain efforts had to be made to get the big stars to drop by and create sufficient momentum. Apparently all it took was one well-laid rumor that Jesus Christ was in fact going to be at our party and Jennifer Hudson came running. She left soon after she realized that her personal lord and savior was not present. But it was enough to start the limo line. Al Gore stole the show when he, Tipper and their "Posse Verde" stepped out of their hybrid stretch limo holding his Oscar aloft shouting "Does that dumbshit-in-chief have one of these? I think not!"

Scandal also greases the wheels of buzz and that was supplied nicely when Kirsten Dunst was denied entry for being...Kirsten Dunst. Gwyneth stopped by as well and was summarily asked to leave when it was learned that she was using her fake British accent again. Nicole Kidman was unfortunately frightened away before she even got out of her limo when Britney Spears lunged from the bushes and proceeded to bludgeon the hood of the limo with a stick. Security was dispatched, Ms. Spears was sedated and placed in a van headed back to the Malibu clinic, Promises.

Best Supporting actress nominee, Rinko Kikuchi started the party off right when she showed up with Sisqo of "Thong Song" fame on her arm. Already considerably inebriated, the two proceeded to take the edge off her loss by dance floor dry-humping right next to Best Supporting Actor winner, Alan Arkin who, according to dance floor sources, smiled for the first time that evening at the sordid sight. Sharon Stone served as celebrity cocktail waitress as did retro-Oscar winner Marisa Tomei. Their talents shined as they shucked booze and tried to cut deals for any Lifetime channel movie that might come their way. The Pilobolus dance troupe was retained for the evening to dazzle attendees with more of their shadow puppet mastery. Their presentation was constantly being marred by the heckling and screaming requests of Jack Black and Will Ferrel to "make a shadow pee-pee! make a shadow pee-pee!" very sad.

No Oscar party is complete without a celebrity chef feeding the glamorous masses; Rachel Ray shined as she prepared her most elaborate menu yet: grilled cheese sammies with parsley sprigs accompanied with pasta salad seasoned with Wish-Bone italian dressing.

All in all it was a huge success.

And the cards go to...

B.J. of Boston, MA kicked all your butts. He wins six Cerebral Itch greeting cards and a $15 giftcard to either Starbucks or iTunes.
Surprise! We decided to have a new category for the worst poll submitted. That honor goes to Josh of Orlando, FL. For having the worst score overall; he wins a DVD copy of Basic Instinct 2 - The worst movie of the year.

Thanks to everyone who played along - stay tuned, we're doing another poll next month. Topic TBD

Oscar Luminaries - take 1!

Orson Welles - The man responsible for one of the greatest motion pictures ever made Citizen Kane - drunk off his ass during the filming of an old Paul Masson wine commercial in the 70's.
Simply, Genius.

Your Cerebral Itch Blog Family

While on a Skype call with the Cerebral Itch Scratch Pad editorial crew in Mumbai this morning, Sandeep (lower right) asked me a question that struck a chord in me. He asked, "Fine Mr. Itch Sir, I would like to know who the people are that we write such humorous musings for." To which I replied, "Shut up and get back to work."

I must admit that as the day wore on I still couldn't get Sandeep's question out of my head. It reminded me that most of you know nothing of our writing team. Leave it to that little scamp Sandeep to bring this glaring omission to the fore. He's probably the best writer we have. That kid tells this joke about a cross-dresser, ping-pong balls and a rabbi that honest to god slays me everytime he tells it; it's what pretty much got him the job. "Big Pete" is his cousin and the resident flaming queen. I think you can see from the picture that he's a rather natty dresser and a power bottom ironically enough. He's the only one in his hovel that gets his bespoke suits flown in from London monthly. He's got to have a sugar daddy because I sure as hell don't pay him enough for that nonsense. He's our eyes and ears on the celebrity front. He knows what going on with Paris and Britney better than their gynos; you'd think he lived in the Village or L.A. with his frighteningly encyclopedic knowledge of all things fabulous. I guess he drives the other kids batshit in the office by constantly playing Christina Aguilera dance remixes too loud.

Now Veejay, he's the whip-cracker, I guess his mum is a Brit and his dad's a local thus the sallow complexion and bad teeth. He makes sure the writers produce on time and prodigiously. They all hate his guts; I love it, takes the heat off me. During a moment of levity on a conference call last month, he proclaimed out of nowhere, that he's still a virgin and saving himself for marriage. To which "Big Pete" cut the tension with the retort "Bitch please, you changing your name to 'Captain Obvious’ too?". Rounding out the group is Komala. She's a sweetie and a hell of a proofreader. She speaks better English than all of you reading this. She's a graduate of UCLA and former actress in both Hollywood and Bollywood. I guess she was a kid extra in Gandhi and that gave her the acting bug. It seems Richard Attenborough pulled her out of a crowd scene and took a liking to her. Next thing she knew, she's in L.A. auditioning for and getting parts playing Mexican girls. It was a blow-up with Jerry Bruckheimer on the set of Armageddon that sent her packing back to India. Rumor has it, that's how Liv Tyler got her role.

So there you have it. The Cerebral Itch Blog Squad as I like to call them. Send a holla to the kids if you have the chance. They'll appreciate it a lot since I tell them "No one reads your stuff, I just claim you as my children for tax purposes."

Sa-wing batter, Swing!

I gotta tell you, Andre Agassi looks damn good for 37 years old.

The 2007 Cerebral Itch - Academy AwardsOscar Poll

Time’s running short to enter the Cerebral Itch Academy Awards Oscar Poll; name more winners than anyone else and you can win either a $15 Starbucks or iTunes gift card. Like we expect you to have seen any of the movies; that’s why we want you to enter. We’d love to give this prize to someone who had no friggin’ idea who the hell these people are and what the hell the movies are about. Just pick winners without doing any of the hard work: roughly the same principal that applies to the brain trusts who win lotteries.

Tip: don’t pick the movies you like, you’ll always be disappointed. I’m still pissed when Chariots of Fire took best picture over Raiders of the Lost Ark in 1981. Only BUSH v. GORE was a bigger miscarriage of justice.

I'm torn on this one

There are some universal laws like force equals mass times acceleration, ranch dressing is indicative of a lesser caste and clowns are downright creepy. Apparently someone in Columbia agreed on the last point. Two clowns of the Circo del Sol de Cali were gunned down in front of their Bogata audience last Monday night by some wingnut with guns a'blazin' who had a Costco-sized mad-on for the big shoes and whiteface crowd. Tragedy, I know. But here's where I'm torn: They're clowns! I cannot read this story without simultaneously being racked with guilt and cupping my mouth to hide the giggles. You read this headline and tell me you don't snort just a little: Gunman kills 2 clowns in Colombian circus. Yeah, not so easy to stay straight-faced is it? I am now reaching out to you, my loyal readers. You tell me where you stand on this case of Bozo-cide. Leave your comments as to where this hits you on the "so tragic it's funny" scale. In the meantime, I'll be passing out copies of the Bogata story to any clowns I see on the street.

On Notice

These people annoy us (Ty Pennington and his crew of weepy exploitive corporate shills and Gayle King - Oprah's best friend and crumb catcher)

Hey Hallmark!Don't stop believing you can sell this crap

I'm spending today kicking myself in the ass. It appears that the killer-app of all card ideas; greeting cards that address some of the most soul-shattering shit that could happen to a person is being launched by the undisputed master of original prose and cutting edge design: Hallmark Cards. Yes, the Hallmark Journeys line is now in stores and we’re all the better for it.
Who of us hasn’t been plagued by the inability to find that perfect card to thank a hospice worker or organ donor's family? Or for that matter, have a few cards on deck for the countless times you need to reach out to someone dealing with infertility, a miscarriage or post-partum depression (I'm not making this up, wait till you see the topic list). Well, that think-tank of a company in Kansas City, MO has taken the worry away from us. I assume the target market for these homogenized pastel ice scrapers are mouth breathers who think they’re being sensitive by sending a $2.49 card they picked up at Wal-Mart.

Let’s get something straight. If you know someone suffering from the following:

• Cancer diagnosis, treatment, hair loss, recovery anniversary
• Loss of young life
• Infertility, miscarriage, post-partum depression
• Waiting for test results
• Caring for an aging parent
• Thanking a hospice worker or organ donor's family
• Addiction recovery
• Eating disorders and diet support
• Depression
• Job loss
• Coming out
  

You handwrite them a personal note or get them drunk with your arm around them. You don’t send a goddamn Hallmark card.

"A very polished performer"

Yesterday, Mitt Romney was on ThisWeek with George Stephanopoulos and let me tell you, this guy is slicker than goose shit sliding down a tin horn. He's handsome, devout, married to a beautiful wife who has given him five strapping sons and he's had both a very lucrative private career and successful public career. He looks like he was plucked from central casting for a movie about the President. Except this movie is about the perfect president who at night slips away to the confines of a secret lab where his face plate is popped open and his circuitry and programming are modified.

One of my first choices for "fantasy dinner guest"; George Will, coolly dismissed Romney as a "very polished performer"; high praise indeed. In 2006 Romney got all his ducks in a row to run for president. He changed his views on abortion (then: pro-choice/now: pro-life), signed on for a life-long membership in the NRA and shuffled away from his earlier support of gay rights distancing him from any position that could offend the conservative base. It was recently reported in the Miami Herald that he was heckled at a campaign appearance by a man who accused him of being a "pretender" and "not knowing the Lord". Romney responded "One of the great things about this land is that we have people of different faiths and different religions, but we need to have a person of faith lead the country.'' The audience gave him a standing ovation. Case in point: the content of his answers to divisive questions are frighteningly calculated for a specific audience. One of the more revealing portions of his interview with George Stephanopoulos concerned gays in the military:

Stephanopoulos: That current policy [Don't Ask, Don't Tell] labels homosexuality as a defect. Is that what you believe?

Mitt Romney: You know, I'm not going to suggest that I'm in any way a psychologist. That's a decision a psychologist would have to tell you and I'm not going to weigh in on that.

Granted, this is not an election issue, but it speaks volumes about a man running for president in the 21st century. The fact that he will not "weigh in" by declaring the Department of Defense's definition of homosexuality as medieval is repugnant and that you need a "psychologist" to make a determination on gayness is ludicrous as well. Take a look at the interview or better yet, read the transcript. It's an illuminating look at a candidate who appears to be changing tack to catch the hot air of far right social conservatives.

Oh yeah, and now McCain wants to overturn Roe vs. Wade. Are the Republicans so hell bent on giving it away to the Democrats in '08 that Giuliani the only choice for centrists, much less secular libertarians? Okay, now back to the comedy.

Happy DingHai people...I think

Happy New Year or DingHai to the rest of the world who does not worship Dick Clark. According to the Chinese calendar, this is set to be a good year; sort of. If you're going to be born this year, you're aces. If you're just hanging around and have been for the past few years, you're screwed. "Expect epidemics, disasters and violence in much of the world." is how most of the guys who are into this stuff feel about the Year of the Pig. Shocking, because everything has been going swimmingly so far.

On Notice

These people annoy us - especially the asshat on the left - (Tony Snow & Cojo)

Britney Spears signs on as Cerebral Itch spokesperson

SHERMAN OAKS, February 16, 2007 - Representatives of Britney Spears have confirmed that the perky performer has signed with Cerebral Itch for an undisclosed amount to promote the company's new line of niche greeting cards for "boozing and maternally negligent media-whores". Cerebral Itch president and co-founder, Paul Chamberlain stated that "With Ms. Spears new look we feel that she captures the essence of our new line and will allow us to create more product based on the continual collapse of society; it's a win-win for everyone."

Sources close to Ms. Spears declined to comment on whether or not Ms. Spears will continue to shave her head throughout the period of the contract; but did release a statement confirming that "Britney loves her new look and Cerebral Itch. We believe this partnership will flourish even more once we sober her up and explain most of the cards to her."

(we're joking people - this is satire - you didn't really think we were serious did you?)

Praise Jesus! I can comb again!

This morning I awoke to see that the rest of the scriptures had been fulfilled - PTL! That in Matthew 11:5 we learned that "blind receive their sight and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up". What many people don't know, is that this particular passage finishes with "and the bald comb".

Thanks to advances in stem cell research, oh wait, scratch that; thanks to advances in recombinant dna extraction, damn, not that either. No, thanks to a fuckin' laser pointer in a plastic silver brush some men can now lose dignity faster than their Corvette can roll. The FDA has approved the The HairMax LaserComb. Apparently this god-send "was designed and developed in Australia and is manufactured in the USA under strict quality oriented standards." Wait, it get's better; "Located in Boca Raton, Florida, Lexington International, LLC. was established in 2000 to develop and promote a revolutionary hair care product, the HairMax LaserComb™." Okay first off, nothing legit ever came out of Boca Raton and what the hell does "strict quality oriented standards" mean? But the best part? This piece of crap sells for $545. Do you know how many rayon shirts and Cialis pills you can buy for $545!?

Well, hats off to you my friend if this is your purchase for the day. I'll be thinking of you while employing my own cure for baldness: A razor and a set of balls.

On Notice

These people really annoy us - (Tim Hardaway & Nancy Grace)

You smug, self-righteous, scared, little man

One of the guidelines for this blog when it was created was that it would be a puckish diversion from the chaos that we're all water boarded with daily; a perky little examiner of pop-culture and an extension of the attitude that makes Cerebral Itch. So pardon this digression from the perky part, I’ll keep it brief: Our president is an idiot bully. A dick if you will.

Yesterday’s White House East Room press conference supported my harsh name-calling beautifully. Forget the vomit of misinformation concerning Iran, which rang false due to the contradicting statements earlier in the week by his own Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Peter Pace. Forget the in-fighting within his own administration now between hard-liners and actual diplomats (apparently the diplomats are starting to gain ground as shown in the North Korea deal). Forget all that; I want to focus on how this man makes fun of people. I was going to say makes fun of people smarter than him, but I think you can see the punch-line there.

Supporters of President Bush say he likes to “banter and joke” after speeches with reporters. No he doesn’t; he makes fun of them to divert from the real issue that he’s insecure and just stepped out onto the extemporaneous high-wire without the net of prepared statements. Yesterday he did the equivalent of “pantsing” a reporter on live TV by ridiculing him about his employer. The reporter was Mike Allen, a respected Washington correspondent for Politico.com, a non-partisan electronic daily that is gaining considerable influence amongst news organizations and the public that still reads about politics. Okay, he’s no Jeff Gannon, but then again, who is? I don’t think any of us can forget the painful moment when he took a swipe at the reporter from the L.A. Times about his sunglasses on a cloudy day when in fact the man has a degenerative eye disease. Or who can forget the classic, when he publicly shot one over the bow of White House correspondent, David Gregory of NBC for asking the French President Jacques Chirac a question in French. Oh David, for shame for using your education and making some Americans look like citizens of the world.

I could go on, but simply put, this guy is a bully. The kind from way back in middle school that used to make fun of someone then look around to see if other people are laughing with him; hiding the fact that he’s frightened and knows that given the chance, somebody is going to catch on, pants him and chuck his skinny white ass into the middle of a crowded cafeteria.

Postscript: Cerebral Itch would like to remind everyone that while we don’t have a lick of respect for the man, we have immense respect for the office and the rights granted to each citizen by the Constitution. That's why we're so pissed, because he doesn't.

Who better to express the emotions of today

Happy Valentine's Day from the romantic whackjobs over here at Cerebral Itch.

Cerebral Itch Valentine's Day Picks

So tomorrow is the big day. You either have to put up or shut up on the love front. Being that we're a greeting card company we thought we'd chime in on what makes our V.D. day a winner. Forget the sad-ass box of chocolate or flowers; we have some sure fire picks to spice it up or nice it up.

Toys - OhMiBod Music Vibrator
Yeah, you read that right; a music vibrator. You jack this baby into your iPod, fire up a playlist with some throbbing bass beats and there you go. Your iPod already goes more places with you then your lover so why don't you just make it an electronic three-way.


Candy - a case of Big Hunk bars
Go for symbolism and flattery (as well as diabetes). The sentiment will go a long way in pumping up your lover's ego and id with this fun little departure from those crappy toxic Necco hearts.

Movies - The Ghost and Mrs. Muir
We're going to get all sappy on you and recommend probably one of the most romantic movies ever made. The two characters don't even touch, yet you're swooning in ten minutes over the love, intelligence and passion emoted by the always amazing Rex Harrison and the classy Gene Tierney. Yeah, it's old; but damn it it's a good one.

Books - The Time Traveler's Wife
This chestnut came out a few years ago and it still hasn't left our consciousness. It is a kind and sophisticated story of a guy who has a genetic disorder that bounces him through random periods in his own lifetime as well as his wife's. I know, sounds weird. But that is the genius behind this book, it may sound like science fiction, but it reads like a grand romance with contemporary characters.

Porn - Xtube
What's Valentine's Day without porn? That's right, boring. And what's porn these days? That's right, boring. So kick it up a notch and watch regular people do what birds and bees do on Xtube. It's kind of like YouTube's trashy slutty cousin. And if you think that couple humping in the bad light and tacky decor looks like your neighbors; it probably is.

Greeting Cards - Cerebral Itch V.D. Line
Kiss my ass, it's my blog and I'll shamelessly plug the funniest goddamn Valentine's Day cards on the planet if I want to.

Newly Single? Hate Valentine's Day? Go shoot a gun. Here's a directory to firing ranges in your area. Or get ready to buy one of our Breakup and Divorce cards. They launch the day after this expensive little flaming hoop of a holiday we all have to jump through once a year.

That's it, that's all we got. Now go forth and go get laid my child.

All in all, a pretty good night

So the Dixie Chicks appear to be winning the battle against the Sith Lord Bush. Last night they brought home five Grammy’s in obvious recognition for their work and their accidental dissent. I still want to see them do the same thing at the Country Music Awards, but alas, that just ain’t going to happen. I have to wonder whether or not the voting members of the Academy finally felt safe in bestowing the Dixie Chicks their awards now that it’s chic and safe to moon the West Wing. Let’s be honest, Barack Obama walking out on the Grammy stage would have played much better than John McCain. But that’s a cynical hypothetical and one that can be applied to any celebration of the arts (with exception to the fore mentioned country music crowd). So for right now, let’s hear it for the Yankee Chicks. But girls, please don’t ever let your writing partner Dan Wilson near the mic again, that guy's a knob.

Gnarls Barkley, Corrine Bailey Rae, John Legend and John Meyer kicked ass. Mary J. Blige needs to take some credit for her jaw-dropping talent and quit thanking her father Jesus so much. The polkameisters Jimmy Sturr and His Orchestra won their 16th Grammy for best polka album, “Polka in Paradise”. On the classic artists front, a black-ops team needs to be immediately deployed to Sting’s hidden Tibetan lair to steal his formula for eternal youth. The same goes for Prince’s hidden Minneapolis lair. And for God sake, quit giving Bob Dylan Grammys!

But I think there’s something we can all agree on; James Blunt got nothing and that was beautiful.

What the F@#! is the matter with you people!

Norbit wins the weekend box-office by raking in $33,740,000.

How many water well pumps could we have bought for the developing world? How many music and art programs could we have put back into schools? Oh who cares, let's take $10 bucks and piss it away on this garbage. Thank you Eddie Murphy for harshing my weekend Obama buzz. Idiot.

Not to be confused with MENSA Fever

Alright, I know that singling out one piece of detritus from the television landscape to berate is about as futile as trying to find panties at Lindsay Lohan's. But there is one program so heinous and moronic it has to be recognized. It is MTV's Maui Fever - a half-hour dirty needle of a show that features a group of 20-something friends living on Maui. Here's the show in a nutshell: the guys are smooth-brained surf bums with the prime directive of bagging tourist chicks hours before they leave the island to avoid blowback and their female sidekicks are hair-twirling dime-store diva bitches who probably took their SAT's with eyeliner pencil. That's it; I kid you not.

There are three reasons this show needs to end: One, these people are breathing our air and that certainly has to stop. Two, there are no Hawaiians on the permanent cast. Hat's off to you MTV for stoking the already tense racial situation in Hawaii between locals (native Hawaiians) and haoles (Caucasians). Three, Maui is shown in a rather unflattering light with absolutely no attention given to the culture and the history. Yeah, I know it's an MTV show and not the Discovery Channel, but for crisake make an effort to do something mildly redeeming if you're going to use one of the most beautiful places on Earth with a proud people trying to save their rich heritage as your backdrop for a Laguna Beach knockoff.

Okay, I'm done. You know where I stand. Now I have to go yell at some punk kids to get off my lawn.

On Notice

These people annoy us

Well, the week wasn't a total loss

"The life of a tall, gangly, self-made Springfield lawyer tells us that a different future is possible," Obama said. "He tells us that there is power in words. He tells us that there is power in conviction. That beneath all the differences of race and region, faith and station, we are one people. He tells us that there is power in hope."

I’ll sleep a little better tonight knowing that this skull-ringer bad trip of a week ended on a positive note. Obama’s in and for the first time in this nation’s history we’ve got a legitimate African-American candidate. Declaring his candidacy from the steps of the Illinois capitol building where Lincoln served in the legislature was a little heavy handed on the historical irony, but a nice touch of political theater nonetheless. I will try not to make the same mistake as the first presidential candidate with Tourettes: Joe Biden; by happily saying that having Obama in the race certainly does not ring familiar with the likes of Jackson, Keyes, and Sharpton et al. This guy appears to have the stuff to go the distance. Now, if he can survive the charnel house that is public scrutiny he might make past Super Tuesday. Mind you, this isn’t an endorsement; it’s just an observation that the Democrats are finally living up to their claim about being the party of diversity with a vengeance. Especially profound compared to the band of chest/bible thumping stale crackers the GOP has cobbled together. Now all the Democrats need is a gay Asian disabled veteran to announce their candidacy and we got ourselves a knife fight.

Anna Nicole Smith R.I.P. for once in your life

In the Circus Maximus we call 21st century pop culture she was a force. She was the crazy cousin/ neighbor/girlfriend you'd make an effort to see no matter what. There was something perversely alluring about this redneck teenage mom turned stripper turned Playboy Playmate turned model turned media magnet turned heiress turned Supreme Court litigant turned another blonde tragedy. She was a scrapper and a clown. Surrounded by a cast of characters and situations that made us say things like "there by the grace of God go I".

Monroe, Mansfield, Stratten, etc. The collective memory is littered with her kind. And what they all had in common were the humble trashy beginnings and their rise to bizarre stellar notoriety juxtaposed with people they should have never been allowed to get close to (i.e. Kennedy, Sinatra, Bogdonovich). Face it, we all rooted for her to get that money; and when she strode the steps of the United States Supreme Court people were doing spit takes all over the world. We didn't think she could top the TrimSpa Anna Nicole, but she did. Then things got sad and picked up speed to this inevitable denouement. The autopsy and paternity fight are going to jockey for lead position with Iraq, Libby and disaster movie weather on the evening news for months to come; and we'll watch. Because why? We can relate more to the crazy cousin/neighbor/girlfriend than we can to the bigger tragedies we have to wake up to each morning.

Rest in peace Vickie Lynn Marshall; you were a hoot.

On Notice

These people annoy us

Way to go loverboy

You know I thought I was a romantic guy. I have all the accoutrements on deck for next week; hell, I even designed a line of goddamn greeting cards for jiminy sake. I was sitting pretty. And then, this jackass comes along making all [living] men currently involved with someone look like a bunch of monkey-spanking silver back gorillas. Apparently when Wilma said to her beau,” just hold me” or in their language, “chaka busasa”, this guy was not about to be outdone. Men’s aversion to foreplay and post-coital hugging has been a cornerstone of joke-dom for decades and now Rock Hugsome chips away at it with this ground-breaking (could I chuck in anymore bad geology puns?) archeological find that’s romancing women 5000 years in the future. Even the lead lady archeologist on the dig was swoonin’, "I've never been so moved because this is the discovery of something special".

Nice going man, way to take one for the team. Couldn’t you have stayed buried till after Valentine’s Day?

Oh, those wacky astronauts

So did you hear the one about the female astronaut who drove 900 miles in a diaper to pepper spray her romantic rival and decimate her illustrious career?

Man, you cannot make this shit up anymore. To say that Navy Capt. Lisa Marie Nowak's magical mystery tour is ridiculously tragic is like saying politicians are homely. Yet, the true nexus for blame and consternation should be NASA. I thought these “rocket scientists” were the gold standard for issuing psychological evaluations. Apparently someone didn’t see that Captain Nowak had some issues regarding affection and self-control - paging Dr. Bellows! I have to say the best line of the day was from an Orlando police sergeant “If you were just going to talk to someone, I don’t know that you would need a wig, a trench coat, an air cartridge BB gun and pepper spray,” Well Sergeant you’re just not thinking hard enough. Most stalkers know that those items are standard issue.

This proves the old Woody Allen equation of “tragedy plus time equals comedy”.

At least the game didn't suck

Creativity died Sunday and that death was celebrated by those that inherited its throne; the Super Bowl commercial. Gone are the days of deliriously whacked out dot com commercials and the heartfelt originality of a good beer ad. Now we got crap like SalesGenie.com which for the first few second made me think I was watching a really great set-up for a joke. Watch this ad if you missed it and you tell me if the agency that pitched this shouldn’t be carpet-bombed with flaming bags of shit; because that’s what hit my house when this ad came on.

Cerebral Itch selected a few of the classics so we all can be reminded how to properly spend $1.7 million:

The King of the Super Bowl Commercial Comedy


The Conversation Stopper and Most Controversial


The All-Time Great

Mass-achusetts Hysteria

Thanks to the Reverend Jimmy Jones and the God fearing Flavor-Aid guzzlers of Guyana, we all know the money quote: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”. Well Boston, take note.

In 1938, most of America was pissed off and slightly edgy about the ruckus going on across the pond with Adolf and his band of thugs. Everybody knew it was only a matter of time before we would be sucked in and nightly radio news reports from Britain solidified that fear. So picture a wooden house that has a gas leak (stay with me here), now allow me to introduce the spark: Orson Welles and the CBS Mercury Theatre On The Air doing a radio show that mimicked a late-breaking news report about Martians invading New Jersey. According to studies surrounding this event, approximately six million people heard the broadcast and 1.2 million were 'genuinely frightened'". When all was said and done there were some 12,000 newspaper articles about the broadcast on its impact and even Hitler chimed in and cited the panic, as "evidence of the decadence and corrupt condition of democracy.” CBS issued many apologies and Welles and his group got a slap on the wrist, but were not charged.


So I guess this particular recipe for pant-shitting en masse still works 70 years later. Except replace ominous extraterrestrials ginned up by a frightened listener’s imagination with what looks like a 7th grade science project displaying a cartoon character flipping the bird – boo! Nice connection there too, because we all know how much Muslim extremists like cartoons. Also, never mind the fact that these promotional devices graced the urban belly of several other metropolitan locales with not a peep. Lost is the romance of old radio and class, but now you got yourself a media-loving D.A. who thinks she’s Elliot Spitzer, a terminally un-hip first-responder team and two douche-bag slackers who obviously have an aversion to soap and sobriety. Throw in a big media conglomerate with money to burn and you have some more proof that as a society we really have jumped the shark.