Saturday, September 15, 2007

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!

I know at least two of my regular readers are Notre Dame fans.  I also know it’s not nice to make fun of their sad-sack football team during this time of crisis, and I’d like to think I’m better than that...BUT I’M NOT!!!  I fucking cherished watching those 0-2 Michigan Wolverines demolish the Failing Irish 38-0 today!  It was damn near as fun as a wet dream involving Pat Benatar or Belinda Carlisle!  Automatic Good Day number three and counting, this season…

Last week, the New England Patriots did the equivalent of farting in a spacesuit (i.e., creating a big stink that won’t go away anytime soon), and head coach Bill Belichick got fined half a million bucks after his team was caught videotaping the New York Jets coaches on the sideline at last week’s game to try and steal their defensive signals.  I’m surprised that none of the talking heads on ESPN have posed the following question—why does an elite team like the Patriots need to cheat anyway?  It would make more sense if bottom-feeders like the Browns, Raiders or Lions were busted for doing this, but the Patriots?  While it's true that Sir Belichick has all the people skills of Mike Tyson with a Migraine, I’ve always respected his body of work—until now, that is…

That “little faggot with the earring and the make-up” (Prince) says he’s suing YouTube and other major Web sites for unauthorized use of his music in a bid to "reclaim his art on the Internet".  All I gotta say is:  Get over it already, you pretentious pussy!

Motley Crue is suing drummer/tattoo addict Tommy Lee’s manager for persuading him to pursue being a “reality” TV star instead of focusing on the band, and Lee has threatened to quit the group.  What the hell difference does it make, anyway?  These guys are has-beens and haven’t put out a decent record in 18 years, and by most accounts, their most recent tour in ‘05 was a flop.  Much ado about nothing…

“Down On Me”—JANIS JOPLIN/BIG BROTHER & THE HOLDING CO. (1967)  “I said it looks like everybody in this whole round world, they’re down on me.”  Has anyone else besides me thought Janis was singing, “There’s lipstick on my body” instead of "It looks like everybody" there?

STEALING MY ACTIf you want more of the above, go to  No, it’s not a gay porn site, but rather a collection of misheard lyrics (as in “’Scuse me, while I kiss this guy”) submitted by folks like me who demand better enunciation from our favorite singers.  The ones I post on here are all my originals, although some are common to lots of folks.

Someone also asked me where I got the info on the passing of Outlaws guitarist Hughie Thomasson, and I referred him to the poorly-named, yet highly-informative Dead Rock Stars Club website.  This Doc Rock character is about as thorough (borderline anal, actually) as anyone I’ve ever seen, as he posts info on the deaths of virtually anyone even remotely connected to Rock ’N’ Roll, as well as Country and Jazz musicians.  Hell, he even considers people like Milton Berle, Anna Nicole Smith, Tammy Faye Bakker and even that crazy Rocker himself, Luciano Pavarotti to be Rock Stars!  I haven’t a clue why, but if a Rock star dies, you can rest assured he or she will be listed on this comprehensive site.

(Click pic to enlarge)
I’ve had encounters at the grocery store similar to these myself a few times…

There was an interesting piece in this week’s Entertainment Weekly about the upcoming 30th anniversary “Love Boat” TV special in which Gavin MacLeod related a story about a fan who came up to him and said how much she misses shows like this because today’s TV “reality” show fare doesn’t give the viewer anything to “dream about” anymore.  Granted, a schlocky show like “Love Boat” isn’t the best analogy to use here, but I think this gal nailed it right on the head—sadly, there’s nothing inspiring about today’s TV offerings at all.

All you get anymore are these “reality” shows where basically the producers round up a bunch of nobodies and/or marginal has-been down-and-out celebrities (i.e., people who’ll work cheap—think Leif Garrett or Corey Feldman), create some set of parameters or contest and bring along a couple video cameras to capture whatever happens.  This was also the basic premise behind The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour film, and unfortunately for the Fab Four, nothing happened, and so it goes for “reality” TV shows, and they are so bloody boring to me!  Also, the viewer is often fed these forced and contrived mini-dramas within these crappy shows, like with these bickering skanks vying to doink Bret Michaels of Poison, or those conniving bastards on “Survivor”, and for no particular reason, we make celebrities out of weasels like that “evil” Amarosa person on “The Apprentice”, et al.  Sorry folks, but to me, the only “reality” show that’s actually real is “Cops”.

Call me sentimental all you want, but I’d much rather have something to dream about, like driving the Batmobile, hanging (literally?) with Grandpa Munster in the dungeon or even saying cool shit like The Fonz used to ("I would let him go—unless you wanna make medical history…”).  Even hanging out with Fred Sanford and Grady and Bubba while watching roller derby on TV is a step in the right direction, and I’d certainly much rather aspire to living in a deee-luxe apartment in the sky like The Jeffersons, or even better, Frasier Crane’s pad in Seattle.  And yes, I had dreams when I was 13 about cruising on the “Love Boat” with the likes of Loni Anderson, Bernadette Peters or Marilu Henner, and in more recent years, visions of threesomes with Monica and Rachel from “Friends” and/or Daphne and Roz from “Frasier” have danced through my dirty little mind a time or two.  And let me tell you, my friends, they’re a tad more exciting than worrying and fretting about who’s going to date Scott Baio next…

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