A hurricane came through my city on Friday night, knocking out our power and razing many trees. We survived by candlelight, which was fun, but then it stopped being fun the second night, and now, on our fifth day without power, I can positively tell you it SUCKS. Send reinforcements. Who cares about Iraq? I'M MISSING ROAD RULES!
***The previous usage of all caps and gratuitous punctuation can be entirely blamed upon delirium and exhaustion due to excessive complaining.***
Being that work was cancelled on Monday, we decided to head on over to the only place that did have power (besides Mayor Buddy Dyer), the mall. I can personally attest to the fact that the mall contains at least one example of each of what's horrifying about human beings. There was 'too much gel guy,' 'flabby belly and tight jeans girl,' 'wrist cuff from Urban Outfitters, a.k.a. trying-too-hard-guy,' 'screamy venti frappuccino drinker lady wearing capris and heels,' 'scene hair and black pants group (counts as one example, because they only travel as a group).' It was entirely depressing; the most depressing part being that, in some sort of mall-stupor, I spent $26 on lip gloss.
Enough of all that.
Benny Bumppo never shuts up about the Sports Guy, and I've even read a few of his columns (he devoted an entire segment to Billy Zabka!), but his teaming up with Chuck "Cocoa Puffs" Klosterman via email is epic. If Sports Guy and Klosterman were Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, respectively, we'd have ourselves a bona fide blockbuster.
"Britney wants Kevin to be just as famous as she is." I bet you $100 million dollars this ends in flames. And, no, not because he's a washed up former backup dancer (redundant?) with a spare tire jellying its way around his torso, and, no, not because he has two kids with another woman, and, no, not because both his car and his house have been repossessed, but because someday, maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but someday, Britney Spears is going to invest 99% of her money in something really stupid, like a religion that believes in faeries and Red Bull enemas. And then she'll get hugely fat and start selling sparkly sweaters on QVC that say "Princess" and "Dreamer" spelled out in sequins. And then she'll overdose on sleeping pills and whiskey, which she'll blame on Kevin, since he's been spending more and more time with Lindsay Lohan. And then she'll start a raging coke habit, causing her to lose all the weight, and then she'll go to rehab, where she'll have chocolate and nicotine-induced epiphanies about her parents and herself. Then, rising like a plump and sagging phoenix from the flames, she'll divorce Kevin and begin her 30-year contract at The Sands in Reno, where she'll meet Nicolas Cage one night and marry him 27 seconds later, and everyone will call it her "comeback."
***POLITICAL AREA*** Anyone who doesn't care about current events (i.e. the dummies) should skip the next part and just keep skipping all the way to North Korea, where active discourse is discouraged and you'll feel right at home.
Now then. We all know that Bush isn't the best orator out there. Actually, I'd put him in the running for Most Embarrassingly Horrible at Public Speaking Ever, next to Yogi Berra and Stuttering John. And we've all heard about how Kerry resembles Lurch and various horses. Why the long face, John? No, really, why? Fine. That's all well and good. My plea is this: why resort to the obvious, drawing pictures of monkey-faced Bush with his eyes crossed, and sending mass emails of John Kerry and Ted Kennedy posing as "Laurel and Hardy," when the more seasoned comedian knows the most potent material out there exists in their policies? Let's all guffaw about the war in Iraq, instead of cartoons of Bush picking nits off himself like a chimpanzee. Let's chortle about John Kerry's assertion that he still would have voted for the war in Iraq even if he knew what we know now, rather than whinnying and/or singing The Addams Family theme song. Please, people. You're just cheapening the laugh by going for the obvious. Let's dig deeper.
Has anyone seen Control Room? I love posing these questions; they're never answered. Which means only one thing: nobody cares.