Thursday, May 29, 2008
Danny Glover had it right in Lethal Weapon when he said, "I'm getting too old for this shit!" It just might be time for Indiana to consider Danny's fecal wisdom.
Now I'm fully aware that "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" – starring Harrison Ford and produced and directed by 2 other guys in their 60s -- was a box office smash, selling over $150 million worth of tickets in 5 days.
But Indy, now 65 years old, had 19 years to rest up and get ready for those death-defying stunts and months of emotional explosions.
In another 19 years (if film history is any indication) the next Indiana Jones movie will be released. Harrison will be 84. And I doubt that Lucas and Spielberg will still be up for a daily barrage of widespread pandemonium.
Besides, there's something terribly inappropriate for an 84-year-old to be leaping and fighting and dodging avalanching boulders while murderous evildoers are bent on crushing him into dust before the 2-hour film has run its frenzied course.
This kind of ordeal can be taxing on a man who's already been receiving AARP Magazine for the last 15 years. Indy, it's time to hand in you bullwhip. Better yet, use it to snap the heads off those damn daisies on your lawn.
Monday, May 26, 2008
"I'm at the corner of 36th and Third Avenue. (2 minutes later) Now I'm at 34th and Third."
This is a phone conversation I overheard in Manhattan between a young man in his mid 20s and somebody on the other end who either needs constant reassuring or thinks his caller is a mental case. Does anyone really need to know your freaking location every 2 minutes? For some screwballs, the answer is apparently yes.
Martin Cooper, who started working for Motorola in 1954, is generally given credit for inventing the cell phone, a real clunky model back then. He worked on the first portable hand-held police radio, and was the first one to make a phone call using a cell phone.
But you can bet your ass Mr. Cooper didn't call friends or cops to announce his whereabouts every few minutes.
As most people know, cell phones give off radiation. And although nothing has been proven yet, it is suspected that these little buggers can contribute to such health concerns as cancer, seizures, and changes in brain activity.
The part about changes in brain activity might explain some other aberrant behavioral patterns I've noticed about cell phone users.
They like to speak in public places in booming voices while disclosing personal information that they should keep to themselves rather than sharing with me.
"Oh please, Edna … my husband the skunk has been having an affair with Lydia the skank for years."
Friday, May 23, 2008
I hate getting emails from people living in places like Nigeria and Malaysia that just can't wait to make me rich.
My latest "tale of opulence" was written by a woman suffering from some kind of cancerous ailment who had only 3 months to live.
Her husband, who invested wisely in the capital market, had just died from a protracted illness. His lifetime dream –which will now be shattered if she can't find a dumb bunny to bail her out – was to leave his $10 million to widows and orphans and the financially destitute.
I believe their 5 children all perished when their school bus crashed through a fence at high speed and went over a cliff.
To nail down all the bases, she briefly mentioned that both her family and her husband's family were wealthy, undeserving, and cared little about uplifting the downtrodden.
Apparently I am her last chance to help the afflicted and oppressed.
Her money is safely deposited in a Security Firm in Malaysia. All I have to do is contact her and work out the details. Then she ended her plea with warm regards and hoped that the spirit of trust and love and generosity would stay with me throughout my days.
I couldn't help but wonder if these are the same people who sell those enhancement pills that are guaranteed to add inches to my penis.
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Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Is it possible for a politician to give a speech or participate in a debate and not end it with a reference to God?
Would a plague of locusts be rained upon us? I can understand wanting God on your side. But should we be enlisting the Almighty to get votes? Seems blasphemous. Wouldn't God see through that and resent being used?
And those soliciting favors from God are not confined to crooked politicians. Sports figures are also trying to enlist help from above. A baseball player on the way to the plate crosses himself and thrusts a grateful arm to heaven if he gets a hit.
A boxer who's just beaten his opponent to a bloody pulp will often tell you that God was in his corner.
I think if an athlete continually seeks religious assistance and becomes famous in his chosen field that an asterisk should be placed next to his name in the record books.
*While Mathew Lukas never used steroids, he was always high on God.
I'm sure the Supreme Being has weightier matters on his or her mind than who wins a sporting event or the outcome of an election conducted by scheming bloodsuckers and moral cripples. I'm surprised that religion hasn't been exploited to increase voter turnout. For God's sake, vote! Or maybe something a bit more edgy. Vote, for Christ's sake!
Monday, May 19, 2008
Another bomb has been dropped. Sue Simmons, an NBC news anchor for the past 28 years, dropped it and blew the minds of millions of viewers when on-air she yelled at Chuck Scarborough – "What the fuck are you doing?"
Supposedly TV stations in New York have zero tolerance for flying vulgarities, and the gaffe could result in her dismissal.
What a hypocritical crock of shit! People in real life – and not just cabbies, construction workers, and sailors – toss the F word around constantly.
Expletive hurling on TV is certainly not limited to Sue. Let me drop a few names.
Diane Keaton used an expletive on "Good Morning America." (That should get their morning off to a good start.) Jane Fonda used an expletive in discussing the play, "The Vagina Monologues." (Frankly, I'm surprised she was allowed to say vagina.) Reporter Arthur Chi'en was fired by CBS after chucking an obscenity at a pair of hecklers while conducting a street interview. (I'm amazed that doesn't happen more often.)
So yeah, like shit, "F" bombs happen. But people shouldn't be losing their jobs over it. Hey, there's no problem digesting my evening meal when an "F" bomb is lobbed into my living room every blue moon or so.
But while watching nightly scenes of violence and devastation played over and over again on my Sony, I sometimes have to reach for my Tums.
You tell me which scenario is more obscene.
Friday, May 16, 2008
I'm beginning to think that Roger Clemens, who claims he doesn't give a rat's behind whether he gets into the Baseball Hall of Fame, should be injected with a freaking truth serum instead of all those damn drugs I'm sure he's taken, but swears on his honor he hasn't.
Clemens, a married man with 4 sons, has always presented himself as a pillar of rectitude, which makes his charade all the more ugly and somehow laughable.
Roger the Ridiculous has single-handedly changed his hero status into some wacko Texan whose up to his ass in drug charges, perjury, defamation suits, and underage sex with a hot country singer named Mindy McCready. (Mindy, by the way, doesn't refute the article that ran in the New York News stating that she had an affair with Roger while still a teenager.)
We all thought those performance-enhancing substances were all about throwing a baseball harder and for more innings. Apparently the "high hard one" is now subject to interpretation.
Piling on, a woman from North Carolina has fingered Clemens as the guy who was having a relationship with Mindy. "I was with her the night she met Roger," said Jennifer Ryan Sirbaugh, Mindy's ex-roommate and inseparable best friend. And the media is trying to sniff out even more affairs Clemens might have been involved in.
As if there weren't enough humiliations in Roger's life, Bob Watson -- the U.S. Olympic baseball team manager-- has publicly announced that Clemens would be a distraction and doesn't want him pitching on his squad this summer in Beijing.
Roger's defamation suit against ex-trainer, Brian McNamee is another absurdity he could do without. Clemens already has too many cans of worms on his plate. He doesn't need to open another one. Go play catch with your boys, Roger and try to shut the hell up. As singer Kenny Rogers used to say, "Ya gotta know when to fold 'em."