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Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Stupid People

While the title of this post is a very broad umbrella that includes the vast majority of the population, something very specific triggered this post. I was actually reading an article about how terrible Jeff Dunham is (although said article also pointed out that he is the third richest comedian behind Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock, after earning $30 million last year! What the fuck?!), and part of the article was talking about how politically incorrect Dunham's puppet characters are. Yeah, because that's the most offensive thing about his act. Not the part where he's completely and utterly the opposite of funny.

Anyway, I decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to mine some of the comments on the bottom of the page for comedic gold. I got just three comments in and unearthed this gem: "Freedom of speach is all I can say." And I so hope that you're a man of your word and say nothing else for the rest of your life. If you can't spell "speech," then your freedom of speech should absolutely be revoked (unless you're a foreigner; then I forgive you. Te absolvo.). In fact, let's extend that revocation to people who can't spell "definitely," as well as to those who are unable to distinguish between "their," "there," and "they're," and "two," "too," and "to." Not surprisingly, I have a much longer list of offenses for which I'd like to strip people of their powers of speech, but I don't feel like getting any more riled up than I already am. It's almost bedtime.

(Special thanks to Nads for reigniting my passionate abhorrence for ventriloquist acts.)

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Yet More Ways of Making Adolescent Girls Insecure

This video is an actual, real-life commercial that I had the fortune? of catching the other night:

Seriously, how many things are wrong with this ad? It's just awful on so many levels. First let's talk about the lack of realism. What the hell is she wearing to a fucking dirty rock concert venue?! It's not prom. Calm the fuck down. Also, how much room does she have to navigate that crowd. Have you ever been to a concert where your crotch wasn't mashed into the ass in front of you? If there's that much breathing room, then that must be one shitty band. Oh, wait. It is.

Second, let's delve into the deeper message of this calamity. That girl had one pimple. ONE! And some "benevolent," ethnically ambiguous being is sent from the future to hand off some Clearasil and say, "You don't need to miss the show." Gee, thanks. I didn't realize I was going to have to miss it until you said so . . . you fucking vain bitch. How passive-aggressive is that comment?! The marketing people at Zeno (whatever the fuck that is) are basically saying, if you have so much as one blemish on your face, you should not leave the house. "You don't need to miss the show . . . now that you have a way of removing that repulsive pustule from your face, because otherwise, you should not have gone out." What kind of message is that?!

Monday, December 28, 2009

Warmest Regards,

When you think about it, isn't it kind of funny when you have a long, back-and-forth email chain with someone, especially a friend, and both parties still put their names at the end of every message? It's like, you definitely know who's sending the email. In fact, if no one had signed even the first email, everyone would still know who's involved because your inbox tells you exactly who the sender is. Just a thought.

Bitterly Yours,
The Curmudgeon

Thanks, But No Thanks

Girls are always trying to set me up with guys. "Oh my god, you'd love my friend, Jeremy. You guys totally have the same sense of humor and you're both so funny." Is Jeremy pretty with a good body and a vagina? No? Then I'm not interested. I have enough guy friends.

If we're being honest, he's probably not as funny as I am, but he's going to try to be, and I'll just end up being really annoyed and complaining about him here. And, on the off chance he is as funny as me, we're just gonna spend the entire night trying to one-up each other, which will inevitably result in our interaction devolving into a conversation about gay bestiality and infanticide, or something equally or more perverse, and we'll both end up exhausted, with no girls. Doesn't sound very promising.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

My Next Boycott?

The more I think about it, the more I think I'm going to have to boycott Sherlock Holmes. How many fucking previews are they going to show for this thing?! Enough already! We get it! Robert Downey Jr. is going to be cutesy, charming, and clever with a fake British accent. Jesus Christ.

I actually had a mild interest in seeing this thing before they launched this maniacal marketing assault. Now I just feel like they're being insecure and trying to compensate for something. It makes me wonder if the conversation in the room went something like this:

Hollywood Producer #1: This thing is a piece of shit. What are we gonna do?

Hollywood Douche #2: I got it! We'll drum up as much hype as we can prior to its release so we can make our money back right away, and by the time people figure out how terrible it is, it'll be too late!

But for me, it's like, if there were a cute girl you were interested in, but she just kept talking about how great she was, you wouldn't believe her because you'd assume she's masking massive insecurities, you'd avoid seeing her . . . if you were smart.

White Power!

Tell me the guy in this InventHelp commercial isn't the goofiest-, whitest-sounding black dude you've ever heard? He sounds whiter than Tony Gwynn. He sounds like Dave Chappelle when Chappelle did that sketch about the blind black guy who thought he was white and was the leader of his KKK chapter (that's where the title of this post comes from; I'm not a total asshole). And his last name's McGhee! Doesn't get any more white bread than that. Anyway, thought it was amusing...

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The Homeless

My friend reluctantly admitted something to me recently. She told me she saw some guy she thought was cute, and then moments thereafter, noticed that he was barefoot and homeless. This reminded me of another one of my theories: you never see a hot homeless chick.

I see plenty of homeless guys who I'm sure would be presentable if you showered them off, shaved them down, and dressed them up... And in my friend's case, you wouldn't even need to do that.

My theory is, a hot girl never has to be homeless because, for a girl, being hot is such a valuable commodity; it's its own currency. I think Seinfeld said something like, while girls care about what a guy drives, what job he has, what kind of family he's from...a guy doesn't care about any of that stuff, as long as she's hot. A hot girl can always just blow some rich guy in a pinch, even an attractive rich guy. Much harder for a broke dude to broker that deal with an attractive rich chick, you know what I mean. We all saw who Hugh Grant cheated on Elizabeth Hurley with, but she would've never done the equivalent.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Power Bottom?

My buddy was telling me about his gay friend who claims to be a "power bottom." I'm familiar with the term, but what does it mean? Does it mean you don't cry when you take it in the ass? That reflects a good deal of power, I would say. Does it mean that you aggressively back up onto the dick instead of just taking it? Because that kind of aggressiveness would be an indication of power, too, I suppose. I'm confused. Someone enlighten me.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Where Do They Get Off?

My buddy: "You ever hook up with a fat chick who wasn't self-conscious? It's weird, right? It's like, 'Shouldn't you be apologizing, or something?'"

I love my friends, but don't take that quote to heart. Confidence is good. If you're fat, be okay with that. They'll be someone out there who worships everything about your fat ass... Not me. But someone. If you're not okay with being fat, do something about it. Hit the gym, run around the block, stick your finger down your throat. Whatever. But no one wants to hear you complain about it constantly. As soon as I hear a girl say something like, "I feel so fat right now." I immediately think, "Oh, low self-esteem; this'll be easy." Then I think, "No way would I want to date this girl." Don't be a pussy. Be confident.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

I'm So Manly

My car has a lot of problems. Actually, just one problem. It frequently does not start. Which is a pretty major problem. It's actually a pretty nice car, way nicer than I deserve, but these are the complications you have to deal with when you put your Israeli, used-car-dealer father in charge of procuring your automobile.

Anyway, the point is, it didn't start the other day, so I popped the hood and played around with the fuse box for a minute. Then I got back into the car and tried to start it again, and it worked! I gotta admit, I was kinda attracted to myself afterwards. If I had been a girl I totally would've banged me.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

I Like A Challenge

Sometimes, when I meet girls, I like to challenge myself by doing a little self-sabotage, and then seeing if I can recover from the "flat spin" without having to EJECT and break my neck, like Goose...metaphorically speaking. For example:

1. One time, I picked a girl up for a first date, and I'm driving, and we're laughing and talking. Then, after a brief moment of silence, I said, "It's pretty crazy how trusting girls are on first dates when you think about it, right?" She giggled, but you could see the wheels starting to turn. I let that moment breathe for a second. Then I go, "Seriously, like, if I were some homicidal psycho I could just drive you out to the desert and chop you up into a million pieces and no one would ever know." She laughed, sort of, but I made sure to keep a straight face for a few seconds. Then I finally broke character and said, "Don't worry. I left my mask and axe in the trunk. By the time I ran out to get them you'd probably be long gone anyway..."

2. Another time, I met a girl while I was out one night, and we're talking about some inane bullshit. She was probably telling me about her maltipoo and vanity plates, or something. Anyway, I go, "Oh, so where do you live?" And she's like, "Miracle Mile." And I was like, "Yeah, but where? I know the area." And she was like, "Like, by Curson and 6th." And I go, "No, what's your exact address?" But with a completely straight face. Try that one some time. And be patient before blurting out "just kidding." Also, don't blink. That contributes to the effect. The reaction is priceless (Curmudgeon's note: for my feelings about the word "priceless," please see earlier post about anticlimactic punchlines).

3. Another time at a bar, I was drinking water, and some poor girl comes up to me and goes, "C'mon. You can't just drink water. You have to get a drink." So I go, "Actually, my dad's an alcoholic, so..." (Curmudgeon's note: my father is not an alcoholic. But he does enjoy watching movies on Lifetime, which is arguably worse.) Her face dropped and she got super serious, "Oh my god. I am so sorry." And then I go, "Just kidding. He's not an alcoholic. This is straight vodka." And she started cracking up, and playfully hit my arm, "You jerk. Hee hee hee." And then I go, "No, seriously, though, he's an alcoholic. This is water." And she got serious again. And I go, "Nah. Just kidding." And she got really confused. She walked away. Smart move. I deserved it.

4. Finally, I was in Cabo a few years ago, and I was walking this girl back to the hotel at like three in the morning, or something, and we're walking along the edge of the marina. There's a short wall, on the other side of which is, like, a 15-foot drop into the water. For some reason, I decided that it would be a good time to off-handedly comment, "I could totally just pick you up and throw you over the side, and you'd probably drown, and no one would ever know because I just met you tonight."

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I don't know why I always think about how crazy it is that girls are so trusting of guys they've never met before, but I do. I think it's a couple of things. First, I think if I were a woman, I'd be hyper-paranoid all the time. I'd be scared to walk alone at night, I'd be scared to let a guy pick me up, I'd be scared to let someone in my apartment. As a guy, I know I could at least put up a decent fight if it ever came down to it, but women are significantly weaker, physically, and I feel like that seriously affects the dynamic, no?

Second, I feel like I'm a good guy, despite what some of you readers might think. I'm very considerate. I take feelings, and all that crap, into account. I don't use women. I don't cheat. But I think that's the problem. I consider myself a good guy, and I know that I think up some depraved shit sometimes. So imagine what the bad guys are thinking?! And imagine what the really bad guys are actually doing!

Third, I always think about the situation from the perspective of a father. Not in a sick way, assholes. In the sense that, I would kill myself if I had a daughter because I'd never want my daughter to ever trust anyone as much as girls trust me, even though I KNOW I'm fucking trustworthy! Like, if I have daughters, I want to instill a completely unhealthy fear of everything in them. Is that wrong? This is the same reason I can't enjoy strip clubs. I always think, "That girl has parents. This can't be what they wanted for her." . . . And then the girl's mom gets up on stage next to her. Lovely.

Cinnamon Toast Shush!

I hate the sound of crunching when people eat. It's so grating. When people crunch on potato chips, apples, carrots, whatever. I especially hate when they exaggerate that sound in commercials. Ugh.

I think that's probably a good indicator of when it's time to get out of a relationship, actually. If you look over at the person you sleep next to most nights, and the sight/sound of them crunching on some edible makes you wish death upon them, even though they're doing absolutely nothing wrong, just sittin' there tryin' to enjoy a late-night snack in their PJ's, can't really control the volume of the crunch that's probably time to move on.

Monday, December 14, 2009


Okay, so here's a new batch of personalized license plates I spied recently. I've seen way more than this but I don't always remember to write them down. Man, people are dumb and unfunny:

1. "YUR DUN" - More like, YUR DED 2 MI. This guy was driving a Camaro, too. Douche.

2. "KPTV8ME" - I'm sorry, what was that? I lost interest.

3. "HOLLYBU" - As in Hollywood + Malibu. You can imagine what type of person would do something like this. She was also driving an orange Hummer.

4. "MRPRVCY" - Hmmm. That's ironic, because that's a pretty public display of your stupidity.

5. "MMS PNY" - Oh, I get it. Mom's Pony. Because a pony is a mode of transportation. Like your car. And you're a mom. Also, a pony is a member of the equine family, just like a mustang, which is the type of car you're driving. Clever. Now die.

6. "SMTCGO" - I couldn't, for the life of me, decipher this one. Then, I decided to read it with a Boston accent (watch, try it)...because I do stupid shit like that, and I got it (I think): Smart Cargo. Wicked retahded, right?

Ayudame! Viene La Lluvia!

I learned something the other day, which is exciting because it so rarely happens that I come across something I don't already know. Mexicans can't drive in the rain. Fact.

Mr. October

In fifth grade I did a book report on Reggie Jackson. In addition to the written report, we were required to do an oral presentation. I came into class in black face, a big gold chain, and a Yankees uniform. No shit. How fucked up is that? Now that I think about it, I think it was my mom's idea. Either she has a better sense of humor than I give her credit for, or she's a racist...

Sunday, December 13, 2009

What the Fuck?!

What does it mean if you decide to take a shortcut down a side street you've never driven down before, to circumnavigate excessive traffic, and LITERALLY 18 cross streets in a row have the same exact street name, which is your ex-girlfriend's name?

Friday, December 11, 2009


Can you sue for malpractice if a reflexologist massages the part of your foot that corresponds to your genitals?

Best New Pick-up Line

I was out with a couple of friends tonight and this is what my friend asked a couple girls (he wasn't being funny; he was actually sincerely curious, which probably makes it even better): "So, have you girls ever been roofied before?"

I'm not kidding. How awesome is that?

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Woods You Shut the Fuck Up Already?!

Can we calm down about Tiger Woods already? Jesus Christ. Every time I turn on the TV, everyone's talking about his "incredible fall." Incredible? Fall? Really? Last I checked he's exactly the same as before except we found out he was a dick to his wife. So let me get this straight, a guy with practically limitless resources and endless power was able to resist 99.9% of the women who constantly throw themselves at him, but still caved a couple times? Oh my god! How could this have happened?!

Or, you could take a step back and look at every other superstar athlete or mega-powerful man throughout ALL OF HISTORY, and let me know what percentage of those guys was 100% faithful. And then, take the guys who passed that test, assuming there were any, and stick them in today's 24-hour-media-crazed, sycophantic-paparazzi-filled, up-every-celebrity's-ass society, and tell me if they still check out. . . . Ah, fuck it. Just poll every regular guy on the street and let me know what you come up with.

Look, I'm not saying Tiger's wife deserved this by any means. (She probably didn't, although maybe she'd recently admitted to him that she had lied, and did, in fact, lick the entire IKEA staff's Swedish meatballs during a summer internship in Stockholm. I don't know. That's my point.) She'll punish him, rest assured. But what's that cliche? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? Well, marry one of the most skilled athletes/powerful men ever at your own risk, okay? Chances are, the reason you liked him in the first place is because every other girl wanted to fuck him. Congrats. You won.


I've added a new feature! (Computers are craaaaazyyyy!) I'm gonna try to do a weekly poll where I pose the hard-hitting questions we all ask ourselves in our heads, but are too scared to ask aloud. Check it out. It'll be on the right side of the page somewhere. Vote!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Ass Burger

I'm currently reading A Confederacy of Dunces, a book I'd been meaning to get around to for a while, and it's fucking hilarious. The main character, Ignatius J. Reilly, is basically me . . . if I were morbidly obese and had Asperger syndrome.

Don't Sit on My Bed

I saw a homeless guy urinating on a bus-stop bench the other day, in broad daylight, and it reaffirmed my no-outdoor-clothing-in-my-bed policy. People sit down on public benches, on street curbs, on the ground (i.e. all places that are the bathrooms of hobos, stray dogs, and feral cats the world over), and then get into their beds in these same clothes!!! (Incidentally, the no-outdoor-clothing-in-bed policy is great for getting girls to remove excess clothing before getting into my bed; but it only works because I'm sincere...or, conceivably, if you were a good liar. Just sayin'.)

The next thing I want to do is to start removing my shoes at the door, but so far laziness has won that battle. The whole process of bending over and untying my shoelaces (which I always double-knot, obviously, because if my shoelaces were to ever touch the ground outside, that would be the end of those laces) is just too much...

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Societal Rules of Thumb

I know this is going to make me sound like an asshole, but if you're fat and/or ugly, shouldn't you be extra nice? Like, if you're hard to look at, you have to give people extra incentive to be nice to you, no? (I'm sure some people will read this and feign incredulity, but I live in this realm called "reality," where people make many quick judgements, often subconsciously, based on physical appearance. There's a reason Heidi Klum doesn't have to be smart.)

On the other hand, I think if you're deformed or disabled, or even just really old, you can be a huge asshole. I'd be willing to take some abuse from someone in a wheelchair or a dude with a cleft palate, for sure. Now, having said that, don't be surprised if people don't like you as a result. Just 'cause you can be a prick, doesn't mean you should...

Mommie Dearest

Here's a haiku I wrote:

She is a quagmire
Like Afghanistan or 'Nam
She is my mother

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Bully or Bullied?

The fuzz, the heat, the po-po, pigs, five-oh, coppers, power-tripping cocksuckers... Whatever you want to call them, most cops are usually the same: assholes.

It takes a certain type of person to want to be a cop. I feel like it's either the bully from high school, because he wants to retain his semblance of power and control, or the one who was bullied in high school, because he wants revenge for all the beatings he took. Either way, those aren't the type of people you want wielding power. But they are.

I actually spent a night in jail once, in Key West, Florida, over Spring Break of my senior year of college. I was pretty much hauled in for being stubborn and sarcastic. Shocking, yet again. I'm not gonna get into all the details because it would get me way more worked up than I want to be at this hour, but basically, I approached the arresting officer, who was at the same time approaching me because I had just given the finger to a colossally pricky bouncer, and I figured I'd explain what a dick the bouncer was, we'd laugh about it, and then the officer would tell me to just walk away and enjoy the rest of my vacation, and that would be the end of it. I'd never had a problem with police before. I was an honors student, and I was white. The way I grew up, you can talk to cops and ask them for directions because they're on your side. Anyway, I'd misjudged this Napoleonic, fuckface, ball-licking cop (Officer Biskup; I still remember your name, you piece of shit). He immediately got in my face like a Marine Corps drill sergeant on the first day of boot camp. I told him to calm down (never a smart move) and proceeded to attempt to explain what happened. (Ahhh! I'm getting irritated!) Okay, long story short, he grabbed me, accused me of resisting, kicked me in the leg, cuffed me, and threw me in jail for the night. I filed a report against him the next morning, and tried to follow up on it, but their police department ended up having all these false witness reports. Terrible experience. I still get really agitated when I think about it. And the most profound lesson of that whole ordeal was that I cannot even begin to imagine how bad black people had, and still have, it when it comes to police brutality and abuse of power.

Incidentally, I just decided to do a little google search on this Officer "Dingleberry" Biskup, and it turned up several interesting articles on him. One where he allegedly beat up some local restaurateur ("Biskup took him to the ground and smashed his head on the ground several times, causing his mouth and nose to bleed"), one where he was in charge of crowd control and tasered a guy for "hindering" him (the taser didn't work well enough so he then had to take the guy to the ground and use a stun gun, too), a third that reports that he was charged with misconduct and brutality for which he could face a year in jail and a $1,000 fine, and finally, one where he's accused of beating the shit out of someone's pet pig. No joke.


Oh, also today, I saw some other douche wearing a deep v-neck and Uggs. A guy. Do I really need to say anything else?

An Exercise in Futility

I saw some guy violently cough today, and to cover his mouth, he closed one fist and held it about 4-5 inches away from his mouth. He's not the first I've seen do this. If you cough and hold your fist five inches from your pie-hole, that doesn't count as covering your mouth! If this is what you do, try this: take a removable shower head, point it at your computer, hold your fist five inches from the nozzle, and turn on the water for one quick blast. Let me know how that works out for your computer, you Swine Flu propagating degenerate.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Couple #2

Okay, so I was looking up "incongruous" online, and this video came up. Just kidding. I obviously already knew the meaning of incongruous. I'm not retarded. Plus, I live in LA (I think that makes sense on some deep level). But check out the second couple in this video. Seriously?! Maybe I am missing the boat on this whole online dating thing. Oh, wait, no I'm not.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Is It Possible to Remix Perfection?

Apparently. Have any of you caught this new ShamWow commercial where the original version is horribly horribly remixed?! It's incredible! My favorite parts are the completely nonsensical cutaways to lone dancers. It's so awkward and weird. Did they actually hold auditions for that? I'll never understand people. Here it is. Enjoy:

Anticlimactic Punchlines

I hate when people say something is "classic." Especially when they bestow that title upon an event that's just occurred. "Classic" implies that something has stood the test of time. If your friend spills a drink, you can't immediately say, "that's classic!" Well, you can, but you'd be a jackass.

Same goes for "priceless." Stop saying this. If your punchline comes from MasterCard commercials, stay far away from me...unless you like being your face. (Can you loathe to a face? Does that even work? Well, if it's possible, that's what I would do to you if you used the word "priceless." I would loathe you. Overtly.) Whatever you're deeming priceless can probably have a price put on it, and my guess is, the free market wouldn't be demanding all that much.

Finally, I hate when people say, "famous last words." Ha. Ha. Ha. Hilarious. Something tells me nothing you ever say in your entire life will be famous. "I bet I can eat that whole pizza!" "Famous last words." "I have to go to the bathroom." "Famous last words." "I don't have a gag reflex." "Famous last words." Jesus Christ...