Archive | January, 2012

Mitt Romney’s Hair Speaks Out

25 Jan

Dear Mitt,

Most would consider me the luckiest head of hair alive. I am honored to have served for so many years as Mitt Romney’s signature, unwavering fashion statement, and I believe I’ve done the job well. Unfortunately, my current position is not offering me the creative freedom I need in a job, and I’m considering retirement. I am certainly not the kind of hair that can just wake up every day and be sprayed and combed the exact same way! That’s not me!

Perhaps this is best for both of us. Maybe what the Romney 2012 campaign needs is a fresh new do. But, without a serious change I don’t think I can stick around much longer. While you’re content to just have me wrapped up in the same salt ‘n’ pepper coif every day, that’s not how I roll. Mitt Romney’s hair needs to breathe a little. Please give this letter the consideration it deserves. I doubt Restore Our Future is a huge fan of toupees.

Spitefully yours,

Your Hair

A DIY Primary Victory Speech

21 Jan

As if everything presidential primary nominees say isn’t written for them, I’ve decided to make this fill-in-the-blank victory speech and sell it to nominees for ridiculous prices. The best things in life aren’t free.

“Good [time of day]! We really did it today! Thanks so much to my campaign staff, my family, and most importantly, the great people of [state]! It is my honest opinion that the biggest threat to America today is [current president], and I will not stop until [current president] stops bringing this country down with him! We can beat him! Now, as we look towards [state], [state], and eventually [state], we need to keep working! This is our chance! We can change America for the better! With [domestic problem], [international problem], and threats from [hostile country] challenging our lifestyles every day, we need a president like [speaker]! We can do it everybody! [Speaker] for president, [year]!”

Wow, it Really is Heavy!

17 Jan

Like many Americans, I tuned in to watch the Golden Globes last week. It seems that though these people spend their whole life memorizing and reciting pre-written scripts, they can’t, for the life of them, remember their acceptance speeches. Here’s mine in case I ever win:

ANNOUNCER:And the winner, for best choreographer in a foreign language, animated, made-for-TV comedy short, is: Charlie!

ME: Oh wow! I totally didn’t expect this at all, I just happened to have a speech in my pocket. Of course, I want to thank my mom and my dad, especially. You see, this is the three year eight week anniversary of my dad getting a mild burn on his pointer finger while plugging a microphone in to record a foreign language, animated, made-for-TV comedy short, and I guess this my little homage to him. I want to thank the cast: Lonnie Tinkletown, Clarice Beauregard, Sylvester Saxenpoo. I want to thank the wonderful crew: Steve up at lighting, Lawrence heading up sound, Jaques Catanois for your wonderful scenery. A special thanks to Horatio at Smile Time Catering. Your popovers were excellent, but I felt the raspberry was a little doughy. Thanks to Mr. Wrenger, my eight grade geometry teacher, and Señorita Marquez, my charanga instructor. Hello to Hector, the custodian on set, Maggie, my cat-sitter, and Bartholomew, our accountant. Thanks so much to Rising Sunset Productions, for being the wind beneath our feet in terms of getting this film to the masses. No, no, stop playing the music, I’m not finished. A huge shout-out to Betty, the bingo-caller at the nursing home we visited. How are the varicose veins treating you? Finally, a massive thank you for the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, for giving me the opportunity to get up here, and giving my fans an opportunity to hear what I have to say. See you at the after party!

Today’s Random Thought

15 Jan

Instead of lullabies, the Tebows probably sang “Don’t Stop Believing” to their son.

All You Need is Love! And Murder. And Betrayal.

12 Jan

Obviously, I haven’t found the time to update my blog in the last couple days. However, I did find the time to notice One Life to Live was ending after a half-century. In this economy, job security like that can only be dreamt of, so I’ve decided to write my own soap opera. Passion’s Destiny, as it will be called, will bring certain elements from Hispanic soaps, as well as a very dramatic medical motif. Based in the rainy city of Cape Gertrude, Passion’s Destiny  is a “sweeping odyssey of drama, passion, and destiny.” (That’s not a review or anything, using quotes just looks better.)

(In a completely original storyline, Royce and Daffodil are canoodling, and in doing so, are blatantly disobeying their parents. Daffodil leans in for a tender kiss, but Royce shies away.)

ROYCE: No, we can’t.

DAFFODIL: Why not?

ROYCE: My lips are so chapped.

DAFFODIL: That’s horrible.

(Camera turns to a lavish apartment in the up-scale north of Cape Gertrude. Standing next to an ornate mantle is Lola, an elderly women approaching her centennial, but her plastic surgery makes her look no older than 67. However, her plastic surgeon sneezed during the breast augmentation, so one is roughly two inches higher up than the other.)

LOLA (on the telephone): It happened? … No! … They’ll find the secret. … I’ll be right over!

(Faster than a GOP candidate can say fiscal responsibility, Lola throws on a jacket, jacket being used loosely since she’s essentially just wearing a wolf pelt. She calls Basil, her driver, Rumaki, her hairless cat, and Whiskers, her personal chef, and they all climb into the Bentley. Unfortunately, there was a mix-up while entering the vehicle and Rumaki ended up behind the wheel. Needless to say, the gang easily found a parking spot up a telephone pole.)

(Camera finds itself in a hospital room. A fat Italian baker, Tortellini Frederico,is settled on the table, with powdered sugar in his mustache and pain in his eyes. Frederico is actually a mob boss, but chose a bakery as his money laundering location because of his passionate love of cannolis. Beside him is Dr. Austin Calhoun, a man far too handsome to have passed a cutthroat organic chemistry class at the university on his degree. He is consulting a clipboard, but has forgotten the charts, and is furrowing his brow to keep up appearances.)

CALHOUN (to nurse): This man’s gonna need sixty cc’s of colonoscopy, nurse.

FREDERICO: Whats-a wrong-a with me-a?

CALHOUN: Sir, I’ve just diagnosed you with sensitive nipples. Luckily, you’ll be okay.

(Dr. Calhoun could not have been more incorrect at that time. Tortellini was actually suffering from  sfogliatelle-induced heart failure, and had already expired by the time Calhoun made his diagnosis. Calhoun, in customary practice, wrote “natural causes” on the death certificate and went home. Sadly, he missed the two hit men hired by Frederico in his will, now out to get him. Cut to commercial with Calhoun considering offering medical assistance to a wealthy woman and her friends who have just been in an accident, but instead deciding that his appointment with the stylist is far more important.)

You ARE The Father!

6 Jan

Last week, my father, brother and I, looking for a wholesome family bonding experience, sat down on the couch to watch The Maury Povich Show. I was so inspired I’ve decided to start my now paternity test show. Please enjoy this sneak peek:

(I am sitting on the left, with a man, Dominique, and his girlfriend, Tanganyika. They’re desperately avoiding eye contact, though their passion for each other is unmissable.)

ME: Tanganyika recently gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Clare, (cut to video monitor with picture of Clare). However, Dominque has concerns over whether he is the father. He has heard rumors that his iguana, Tico, is really Clare’s daddy, and came to me to help smooth this matter over. Dominique, let’s hear your side of the story.

DOMINIQUE: I thought I was the father, until my aunt’s cousin’s book club member’s swim coach’s dad said he had heard that Tico was the father of the baby. Then, I didn’t know who to trust so I came on the show.

ME: And Tanganyika?

TANGANYIKA: I don’t know why I’m here. I know for a fact Dominque is the father of my baby, cuz I never even met Tico, except when I helped Domique clean the cage.

ME: Let’s get Tico out here, and here his story.

(Tico enters from stage left. He looks confused and lizardy.)

ME: Nice to have you here, Tico!


DOMINIQUE: See, TIco has diabetes, and so does Clare. That’s why he’s the father!

ME: Actually, Clare has Type 2 diabetes, which isn’t hereditary. Also, her diet consists of KFC Baby Food and Lucky Charms, so the diabetes thing isn’t really evidence.

(Dominique is gazing at the wall. His eyes aren’t focused and a small bead of drool is falling from his bottom lip.)

ME: Well, let’s get the results. When it comes to one-year-old Clare, Dominique, you are the father!

(Dominique and Tanganyika embrace tearfully. Tico runs into the studio audience and eats a fly in the corner of the room. Dominique stops him, since his blood sugar is through the roof already. Cut to commercial.)

ANNOUNCER: After the break, we talk to Abraham, who is trying to stop his daughter from marrying a coffee mug.

This picture looks like it belongs in a cult dining room.

What if Jack Hanna Was Your Tennis Coach?

3 Jan

“With your approach shot, you’re gonna wanna be fast and aggressive. Like a shark. Or a tiger. Or a badger.”

“You call that hustle? I’ve helped elephants cross a Cambodian minefield faster than that!”

“God, you stink! Like my friend Sally the Skunk here. Don’t touch her face, she has a tendency to excrete a foul-smelling odor when threatened. It’s one of nature’s great defense mechanisms.”

“If you start sweating, you gotta push through. Come on now. When was the last time you saw a camel give up while crossing the desert? For me, it was last week, actually. But that’s beside the point.”

Put me in, Coach!

Rosetta Stone: Jersey Shore Edition

1 Jan

With the new season of Jersey Shore just around the corner, they may be several reasons why you’re not watching. Maybe you’re old and don’t understand their hip, young lingo. Maybe you’re young and need to explain their hip, young lingo to an old person. Maybe you’re just plain repulsed by it all. Whatever the reason, Rosetta Stone has a product for you:

The box design is a selling point.

(I don’t own the rights to the photographs used in this post and don’t pretend to.)

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