We gotta reclaim this word “geek,” away from the “sexy geek” concept. It doesn’t mean anything anymore besides what kind of eyeglass frames and t shirts you wear. Real geeks play tabletop Warhammer at the hobby shop and their face & mannerisms give off a slight whiff of chromosome damage. Or they’re on the business end of the autism spectrum and they will appear “sexy” when their computer program makes enough money so that the one attractive Asian woman who works at their company decides she can tolerate a lifetime of his weird nasal monotone.
Archive | 2012
Celebrity Sighting: Rob Lowe
4 JulWorking out at the office gym. I was doing some rows. Going heavy on the back work, as is my wont.
So I am pulling a large unwieldy amount of weight back on a cable. And then an ass appears in my peripheral vision. Right in my fucking face. And I kind of freaked out and jerked to the side, causing my spine to bear some two hundred pounds at an awkward angle.
The ass was that of Rob Lowe, bent over tying his shoe. He looks fantastic.
Mouth Tumors
3 JulAnd I have mouth tumors, these little translucent blobs, little polyps on my inner lip that appear, become painful, tumesce, and then the pain goes away but the thing– what I can only assume is a precancerous growth– does not. There are like four of them now. I don’t give a shit if I die but I know that if I did have cancer it would be cancer of the face, where they have to chop off my bottom lip and replace it with blister-smooth un-color-matched tissue from my thigh or something, or pig-fetus skin…
Or cancer of the dick. Or the ass. Cancer that would either ruin my last days of life in the most hideous possible way or some kind of embarrassing cancer where the shame of telling about it would outweigh any mileage I’d get from telling people I’m dying.
Someone Somewhere Tonight
2 Jul
I was googling “Kenny motherfucking Rogers” last night, as is my God given duty as an American. I came across this post on a Phish fan forum in response to negative comments about Kenny’s performance of “The Gambler” with the band:
jilliebean(OP) • Mon Jun 11, 2012 12:40 PM:
You shut the fuck up and you have some god damned mother fucking respect. This man is a damned legend. No fuck that he is a LEGEND. He is musical royalty and you better bow down to the awesomeness that is the fucking Gambler. He is a real man. He is the kind of man who would fuck you up in the street old school style, with his fists and then he would fuck your woman after dinner and leave her before breakfast riding away on the back of a fucking horse and THEN he would write a beautiful song about it which would sell 250 million copies. And do you know what your girlfriend would do then? She would spend the rest of her fucking life reliving that beautiful act of love over and over in her mind and crying herself to sleep while touching herself wishing that you were a real man like Kenny. He knew when to hold them and when to fucking fold them. He fucked the likes of Dolly Parton, he is fucking a hotter girl right now than you will ever get and today, at 70 years old he could still take you behind the wood shed, kick your ass and then fuck your wook girlfriend just for fun. He was drinking hard and smoking and fucking before you were even a gleam in your mother’s eye. So you shut your pie hole you asses, or Kenny will come and shut it for you. Continue reading
I Fucking Hate Hollywood
2 JulI hate Hollywood. I hate movies. Or rather, I love movies, but god damn do I hate making movies. Or I hate failing to make movies, which is what a job in Hollywood really is. Get up every day, go in to work early, leave late, and completely fail to make movies. Or fail to make a good movie, fail to make a movie that makes any money, fail to get a script where it needs to be, fail to get a director attached that would make the good version of this one in a thousand good script that you by some miracle managed to find and whip into shape, fail to get an actor attached who could do a role in this script with this director justice and who simultaneously “means enough at the box office” both in America and in certain oversees markets where we will need to presell foreign distribution rights to cover the anticipated cost of publicity and advertising or prints and advertising, whateverthefuck “P & A” stands for, or fail to get that actor interested at the exact time when he is available and the director is also available and a similar movie idea has just made enough money that people with financing, that it’s fresh enough in their memory that making this movie seems like a good idea to them, failing to get this fucking perfect syzygy aligned at the exact right moment so that this package can get together and stay together even though every single element of it, without any one of which you are completely fucked, and every one of which is completely flighty and mercurial and scared and constantly second-guessing themselves and being told do leave your movie and go do another movie by some other hustler who is way better at convincing these people to do things than you; who absolutely needs this person to do some other thing so they will make more money and have a nicer car and get laid more, and this person has no compunction whatsoever about lying, unlike you, which, let it be said, this Hollywood world has not completely stripped you of your humanity; you are still basically an honest person. Which is just another way of saying you are not completely committed to this job in a world where absolutely everyone else is and you really just don’t give a shit. This person got up five minutes earlier and got to the actor or director or financier you need five minutes before you and lied five per cent more convincingly so next time you better get up ten minutes earlier and lie ten I per cent more convincingly and be ten per cent less of a decent human being and suddenly we’re all working some mathematically impossible amount of hours in the day, all of which we spend hustling and lying and setting the best and most human parts of ourselves on fire and chasing some hot comic book that is exactly like another hot comic book that got made into a movie that was, while terrible, a movie that will help absolutely no one and be exactly no one’s favorite movie from childhood in ten years. But something made money last week so now we have to make a movie exactly the same as that one. Even if it’s fucking Kirk Cameron converting the Jews to bring about the apocalypse. Whatever it is. We just gotta get a movie made. Continue reading
A Message from Kenny (NSFW)
1 Jul
Not gonna lie: these are dark times. The thing that bugs me the most is that I’m never going to find a nice girl. It’s partly because, well– there are a shitload of reasons, but the only one coming from me is that I’m now a machine geared toward getting unprotected sex as fast as possible.
And this definitely does fuck with you. “One becomes as incapable of love as an old slag,” as a brilliant man once said. I’ve become a dating hack. I wear the same outfit every time, go to the same place, arrange the chairs the same way, go for the makeout at the same moment, etc. etc. etc. It’s all so rote that there is no way I could possibly have any exciting discovery about the other person. There is no way you could get in through some little crack in my persona and make me feel anything.
I was contemplating this as I watched clips of Kenny Rogers’ 1982 cinematic masterpiece SIX PACK. In it, Kenny plays a jaded racecar driver who, through a series of contrivances, is forced to take on a group of half a dozen (or “pack” of “six”) orphans whom he catches trying to steal his spare parts. At first incensed and reluctant, he slowly grows to love these lucky children and becomes a father figure to them. Many think that Kenny was overlooked for the Oscar that year, but few know that at a secret meeting the academy decided that lumping Kenny in with inferiors such as Olivier and Brando would only sully his name. And giving Kenny the award would render all future Oscars meaningless– you would simply have to award Kenny the prize again and again each year, for SIX PACK. The film also suffered controversy after sixteen year old costar Diane Lane gave birth to an infant with a perfectly groomed white beard.
A young Lane can’t contain her lustful gaze as Rogers’ musk awakens her steaming pubescent loins. Continue reading
Review: Sexual Congress with Yours Truly
1 JulEx Girlfriend writes:
“…you know I don’t even always like sex with you so much. You micro-manage, you have an adolescent urgency, your penis isn’t that big, and I don’t think my orgasm means a thing to you. But, all that said, kissing you makes my whole body burn.”
Fair enough. Siskel gave it a thumbs up though.
Diary: New Year’s Eve
30 JunNew Year’s Eve. I will have nobody to kiss me on New Year’s Eve. I will have nobody to buy a present for on Valentine’s Day. And really, I don’t give a shit about these things, but when the day actually approaches you become like the punk kid who was too hardcore to go to the prom but then gets a little pang of sadness when he sees all the other kids piling into a limo.
Dog Shit
30 JunWhat would be nice is if dog shit returned to the Earth quickly. You hear about how flies and bacteria are remarkably efficient at bringing nutrients from waste organic matter back to the soil in a grand circle of life, but dog shit, which is just a pre-digested protein bonanza that any self-respecting bacterium should be proud to call home– dog shit just sits there for weeks turning black and encrusted and slowly drying out. So, come on, flies and bacteria. Come the fuck on. It’s like hearing someone bitch about unemployment while walking past 15 help wanted signs.
Kenneth Donald “Kenny” Rogers: The Complete and Unabridged Biography, Chapter One: Birth
29 Jun
Note: this biography is about Kenneth Donald “Kenny” Rogers the golden-voiced and immaculately bearded performer, not the dog.
1938. Small town on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. A rough-hewn town. Out in the cracked Texas plains. Tumbleweeds, cactuses, possibly other succulents. Scrub and chaparral. Low slung bungalows with no indoor plumbing. Instead a pineboard outhouse with a quarter moon shaped hole carved in the door like outhouses always have, that the locals refer to by some quaint vernacular such as “the jakes.”
The type of town that has a sign saying “N*gger, don’t let the sun set on you in (TOWN NAME),” which implies weirdly that they would be welcome in the daytime. N*gger, don’t let the sun set on you here– but by day, enjoy our fine restaurants and shops. Maybe it’s a courtesy. Like, they have vampires that only prey on blacks. Continue reading
New Book
delicioustacos 