on some Solarcaine, baby. You've made Mary's list! (Your nominations are welcome, and your participation is appreciated.)
I should warn you that many of these entries
have become horribly out-of-date. And get this: I'm actually sufficiently
convinced of how clever I was when I wrote them that I am reluctant
to replace them and would rather allow them to live on in outdated glory.
You're completely right to hate me. I'm unbelievably full of myself.
News Anchors - You know, when you're quite
through trying to convince me how much you care about me and how you're
my "neighbor" and all, maybe you can rearrange your schedule and squeeze
in some journalism coursework. When was the last time any of these
guys read a newspaper that wasn't stuck to the teleprompter in the
middle of a peculiar and unexplained indoor hurricane? My feelings
for local sportscasters and weathermen are only slightly more malevolent.
in the White House" - It's a load of piddle,
and you know it. I have formed a pretty lengthy opinion which is housed
Soapbox. You are more than welcome to read it and agree with me.
Cameron's Titanic - Okay, I'll admit
I cried -- both times I saw it. But isn't all this hype getting a
little out of hand? As much as I am impressed with the stunning visual
effects in the film, I still found myself wincing at occasional bouts
of cornball dialogue and wishing (as I am wont to do) that Bill Paxton
had been busy the day they filmed his scenes. It is NOT the greatest
movie ever made. And, in case it is at issue, Star Wars made
the bulk of its box office money when ticket prices were half what
they are today. Perhaps we should be concerned about actual theatre
attendance, rather than simple dollar figures. Give credit where credit
is due, I always say.
Shows - Maybe the actual number of award
shows hasn't increased exponentially in recent years, but the number
being broadcast in prime time certainly has. Video rental stores are
giving out awards, for Pete's sake! And they're able to fill auditoriums
with moderately famous people waiting to collect them. I'm beginning
to wonder if there's anyone in Hollywood -- or Nashville, for that
matter -- who hasn't got a pretty parade of shiny statuettes on his
or her mantlecap. With the number of opportunities they've got, anyone
who hasn't won an award by now must be some sort of cosmic talent
black hole. (I'm avoiding any mention of Susan Lucci here because
I strive for higher ground in my comedic efforts.) Perhaps this year
we'll see the premiere of the Campbell's Awards for Excellence in
Canned Goods or the Seventeen Magazine Salute to Fresh Complexions
or the Birkenstock All-Star Celebrity Tribute to Ergonomic Footwear.
I'll check my local TV listings and get back to you.
- Have you SEEN how many hits my font page is getting? It's insane! The burden of fame is heavy
on my shoulders.
Shenanigans - I say leave them to poke their
staff in peace. I mean, are we at all surprised by any of this? They
are after all Kennedys. I understand there's a little fine print declaration
at the bottom of the Constitution that says if you're famous
enough or from the right stock, you can pretty much get away with
murder in this country. But I'm not positive. You might want to check
with O.J. Simpson's attorneys on that.
Gate - Enough already. Honestly. What is
the big deal? Aside from a mysterious affection for activewear, I
don't know what we're so curious about. The biggest tragedy of all
is the direct evidence this presents of the correlation between a
really dopey haircut and prolonged periods of celibacy ending ultimately
in suicide. And secondarily, will we ever be able to take a gander
at a comet without someone nearby quipping: "Did you see the spaceship?
Heh, heh." Comedy is a privilege -- not a right.
Flatley - Riverdance Schmiverdance. Okay,
so the guy pulls off some fancy-ass footwork. I'm just tired of his
heavy eyeliner and his "Worship Me!" dance poses. But I am happy to
see that Michael Jackson has found a new career designing Flatley's
costumes. Way to go, Jacko!
O'Donnell - Rosie is a good stand-up comic.
And she has done filmwork. But that show of hers is just a prime time
asskissing festival. Is there anyone who comes on her show who ISN'T
her favorite something?
Rock - How could something so cool be turned
so terribly uncool instantaneously? Relentless commercialization and
the cheering support of countless punk kids dabbing at the cloudy
fluid weeping from their most recent piercings, that's how. My theory
is coolness diminishes in direct proportion to the number of on-topic
T-shirts released by [insert name of local novelty T-shirt store here].
Rest in peace, Interplanet Janet.
George - See "Schoolhouse Rock."
McCarthy - I know that you, like me, are
waiting impatiently for yet another opportunity to see this zany gal
sniff her armpits or pick her nose or loll her tongue around anywhere
but inside her mouth. I can't get enough of that brilliant comedy
she serves up. She's wacky! But there are other aspiring young former
nude models who deserve a shot at stardom, too. And -- if I may lobby
a personal request -- could they be self-involved, unoriginal, and
from the South Side of Chicago, too? Thanks. [Note: Hey, guess
what! It looks like I singlehandedly wished Jenny McCarthy's career
dead. I AM magic after all!]
- Sure. I like coffee just fine. But when did the latte replace the
martini as the swingin' drink of the hour? I'll take mine straight
up with an olive, if you don't mind. Shaken, not stirred -- and plenty
of foamed milk. In support of my thinking here, a friend relayed a
bit of Dennis Miller wit to me. Something about building a Starbuck's
inside another Starbuck's. Very amusing when told properly, I assure
Clinton - I know he's president of the most
powerful nation in the world, but for God's sake do I need to hear
something about him every cottonpicking day?!
I now regret having had this thought. I'll be far more interested in
how Bill Clinton fills his post-presidential days than in how George
W. Bush will go about his plans to destroy democracy and reinstate feudalism
while simultaneously banning choice, federalizing Christianity, and
enacting a national holiday to celebrate the incarnation of the Dallas
- I'm much fonder of the "my way or the highway" brand of Americanism
that was so popular from the birth of our great nation until sometime
in the '60s. Internment camps, Red Scares, hush-hush lynchings --
we've dulled our senses enough to find one of the Cosby shows ample
substitute for this thrilling fare. Tsk tsk.
Eating Habits - Did you know that Lucipher
himself is head of Nabisco's Snackwells division? It's true. And the
cookies still taste like crap. I say Chicken McNuggets all around
and a milkshake chaser. Shave a few truffles over your Hot Mustard
dipping sauce and you've got haute cuisine.
Cara - I just wish that chick would get
out of our collective face. Don't you?
Woods - Tiger Woods is officially overexposed.
Apparently, getting the little ball to go through the windmill and
into the hole is something of a challenge. Who knew?
Doubt - As if such
a thing were possible, her romantic involvement with Gavin (I can't
remember his last name -- it's something like "Poseur" I think) from
Bush makes me like Gwen Stefani even less. I do have to admit that
her image consultants almost got one by me: I just recently learned
that she isn't in fact a practicing Hindu. Wouldn't you know it. That
red dot on her forehead's just for decoration.
see your own opinions typed here in hotdog stand colors, please feel free
to submit a nomination.
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