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The Bills

27 Aug

Just going to work should be enough.  Just having a job should be enough.  Going in there ten hours per day.  “Networking.”  Reading work related material on weekends.  All the absurd time and energy demands of any “professional” “career” type gig in 2012 are more than enough of a burden on a human being’s brief life.

But you gotta pay the bills.  You gotta register your car.  You gotta serve jury duty.  You gotta do your taxes.  You have to go to the doctor, and sit in the waiting room, and fill out insurance forms which you have already filled out many times.  You have to go to the doctor again because the first doctor never knows what the fuck he is talking about. No general practitioner on the entire god damn planet is ever of any use whatsoever in terms of diagnosing, treating, or curing disease.  Always has to be the specialist, which you have to go to the general practitioner so you can even get told to go to the specialist. Find the specialist covered by your insurance plan.  Call the specialist, make an appointment with the specialist.  The specialist, like every other professional and business, is only open at the exact same time as you are working; you will have to take the time off of work.  This does not mean that amount of work goes away, mind you.  There is no one “covering” for anybody at work in 2012; productivity is maximized; man hours are stretched tight as a drum.  You will need to do this work in off hours, still ailing from what the specialist was unable to diagnose, treat, or cure, because it turns out all doctors are completely useless. If you are a doctor, fuck you.  Call the insurance company about the bills you got from the general practitioner and specialist, argue with them; get put on hold, get hung up on on hold, call them, get on hold again.  The toilet is broken.  Call somebody to fix the toilet.  They only operate during normal business hours.  Wait for the guy to come fix the toilet.
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Old Dads’ Shriveled Five-headed Sperm Makes Their Kids Autistic and Crazy

22 Aug

At least, according to this.

I knew it.  I knew it couldn’t be this easy.  Whenever I talked about how my kids are going to have severe mental impairments because I’m so old, everyone would reassuringly jump in with “no, the father’s age doesn’t matter blah blah blah.”  Well no.  My elderly mutant nutcrust is going to create a race of paranoid dwarves who think the refrigerator is their mother.  Mine in particular, as I’ve spent my whole life smoking, drinking and doing hard drugs, which I’m sure only accelerates the random mutations that addle your sperm as you age.

Or maybe not.  Maybe most diagnoses of autism are actually bullshit, and maybe aging parents are precisely the type of well-off white people who bring their kids to the doctor and the psychiatrist and the neurologist at the slightest sign of anything, and are the types of people who have the money to pay for the egregiously expensive treatments that do absolutely nothing for autism, or “autism spectrum disorders.” Maybe it’s a whole bullshit industry for people desperate for something to be wrong with their kids. Mass hysteria meets Munchausen by Proxy.  Meets the type of doctor who rich folks go to, who is never gonna tell you “chill out; it’s probably nothing.” Just like the type of dentist that rich folks go to can always find something wrong; every kid in the rich part of town always has braces. Continue reading →

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2 Aug

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Every Single Rape Joke Ever Made Is Fucking Hilarious

11 Jul

Daniel Tosh is suffering from controversy because he told an audience member she should get gang raped.  Or rather, he made a joke about rape, she primly heckled that “rape jokes are never funny,” and then he started screaming that wouldn’t it be funny if she were gang raped.  Or something.  So now he’s in some shit.

Or not.  I don’t know.  Is he in any danger of losing his show? Comedy Central doesn’t give a fuck, right?  Except tons of Jezebel commenters watch The Daily Show and Colbert Report and so there could be letter writing campaigns, boycotts of Stoli Marshmallow and the Subaru Forrester and whateverthefuck else advertises on those shows.  He has to tweet an apology, but, maybe he also has to do the Tracy Morgan apology press conference where he tearfully says that his own mother was raped and he’s going to tour the country counseling rape victims and blah blah blah.  And suddenly Daniel Tosh won’t be funny anymore.  Just like Tracy Morgan.  Tracy Morgan was funny for going on morning shows in Dubuque still drunk from the night before and taking his shirt off and telling the bemused weather girl that he was going to impregnate all the women in town…. you never knew what was coming, but you knew it was going to be something crazy.  Now you see Tracy Morgan, maybe it’ll be something crazy but it won’t be something crazy about gays, and probably not something crazy about women or rape victims or child molestation.  He has to come up with crazy material about airline food now.  You see him, you know he’s gonna be constrained.  So you lose the tense part of what the fuck is he gonna do next, which is kind of what made you laugh.  What the fuck is he gonna do next– nothing that might irk people who might buy detergents and personal toiletries advertised on NBC Universal entertainment products.  Nothing that could rustle the feathers of anyone who could write a sternly worded letter to someone at NBC, its parent corporation NBC Universal, its parent corporation Comcast International, or any of the above’s myriad sponsors, local affiliates, public relations agencies and hangers-on, and etc. etc. etc. Continue reading →

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I Fucking Hate Hollywood

2 Jul

I 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 →

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Delicioustacos, the President Urgently Needs Your Help

11 Jun

Fuck you, President Barack Obama.

And First Lady Michelle Obama, and Vice President Joe Biden, and fuck you Anne Marie Habershaw, and David Axelrod; fuck you Jim Messina, fuck you Mary Jane Stevenson; eat a fucking dick Julianna “Cock Destroyer” Smoot; choke on my balls Stephanie “Turd” Cutter; fuck youleta, Katherine Archuleta; Rufuckyou* Rufus Gifford, and on and on and on to all the dozens of jerkoffs who email me CONSTANTLY, EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY begging for money for Barack Obama.  A president whom I voted for and supported, but of course, my fucking VOTE doesn’t mean shit since I live in California and unless you actually skullfucked a baby on TV there is no way you’re not carrying this state.  So who gives a shit how I vote.  No, fuckface, your vote means nothing.  We need your motherfucking MONEY.

Fuck all of you because every five god damn minutes I look at my blackberry and see the red asterisk of a new incoming email and I think it’s a new comment on my blog or correspondence from a friend and instead it’s you god damn panhandlers finding some new excuse to hit me up for cash.  If I donate three dollars I get a chance to have dinner with George Clooney,  which– if I’m having dinner with George that’s work for me; I better be getting paid.  Or: RED ALERT! Mitt Romney has outraised Obama for the first time, in fact the first time Barack has been outfunded by an opponent since 2007– well shit, that second part is news to me; I thought you guys were the fucking underdogs.  Are you telling me you had MORE money than the Republicans this whole time? Fuck off then. Look where that got you. I should be marrying my male bride at the Satanic church before retiring home to my mountain of free insurance and unemployment payments by now. Continue reading →

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Get in Shape, You Disgusting Fat Fuck

1 Jun

Don’t read this if it’s about you.

I went on a date this week with a girl who actually has a nice body.  Can you imagine?  A girl, off the internet, whose weight was as advertised.  We all know that OKCupid weight classes are two words for OK and then fifteen synonyms for fat, and you know when you go out with someone here they’re going to be at least thirty pounds over what their photos would lead you to believe.  It’s just a hazard of internet dating.  Something you accept.  The girl who shows up is substantially fatter than her photos. Every. Single. Time.

And I was cool with that—I don’t mind if a chick is a little “thick,” or even “plump—“ basically, I have no standards and will fuck anything that moves, and the virtue of internet dating is no one has to see what you’re doing.  I won’t email with someone who has “a few extra pounds,” because we all know what a cruel joke that word “few” is in this context, but “curvy,” sure.  “Average,” why not.  It’s never the “average” for women between the ages of 18 and 29 in Los Angeles, CA, the most body-conscious city on the entire face of the Earth; these girls generously judge themselves by the national average.  But still.  Fine. Continue reading →

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John Wayne Gacy

31 May

Did you know that John Wayne Gacy got married, by the way?*  He married a fan who wrote him nonstop in jail and sent him sexy pictures.  Did you know that this not-good-looking multiple child rapist/ murderer managed to find someone to settle down with, while your faithful correspondent Cornelius J. Tacos— a reasonably tall, not violently bad-looking young man who is capable of holding court about Narwhals or the Electoral College or WHATEVERTHEFUCK YOU WANT, people, I will have an intelligent conversation with ANYONE about ANY FUCKING TOPIC and charm the goddamn pants off you, and I have an IQ three and a half standard deviations above the mean and 11% body fat and many fine, interesting hobbies, and am generally a well-rounded and not unpleasant human being— this distinctly non-child-raping-and-murdering young man has been making A REAL MOTHERFUCKING EFFORT for several years and still can’t find a decent goddamn girl to give him the time of day?  Were you aware of this?  Probably. Continue reading →

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Stop Telling Me “Just Go Talk to Her”

26 May

Stop telling me that, you women and gays.  You have no concept of what it’s like to “just go talk to her.”  Just listen to me complain about how I can’t get laid and shut the fuck up.  Don’t tell me about how you would like to be approached and etc.  Don’t even tell me that I’m hot and that if you were single you would be delighted to be approached by me. You are either lying, or you feel that way because you know me, you feel comfortable with me. It is inconceivable to you, the experience of being approached by me for the first time out of the blue. I don’t come off well.  If I even have to consider “just going and talking to her” I’ve already lost.  How can you not know this?  Oh, you’re a woman, you understand nothing. Continue reading →

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Car Alarm

14 May

Can your god damn motherfucking car alarm be off now please.  Can you just get up– can you pause what you’re doing, get up, walk out to your motherfucking car, and just turn off the car alarm.  Preferably you will reach into the innards of the car and remove the alarm physically and then toss it into the heart of a volcano, or catapult it into deep space.

Because no one, not once, ever, has heard a car alarm going off and though “Oh my god- someone’s car is being stolen!  I’d better call the police and help!”  Not once have you ever thought this.  And you were right, it never was.  When was the last time you heard a car alarm going off and it was an actual attempted theft of a car.  It is ALWAYS a false positive. What if other things were like this.  What if an AIDS test– always just said you had AIDS.  What if your smoke detector was just constantly going off.  When there was a real fire, you would die.  Which I hope actually happens to you, whoever is parked outside my office with the car alarm going off. I hope you die in an AIDS fire.

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