Hawaii Five O – A group of divorceés head to the Aloha State to celebrate their 50th birthday.
Royal Pains – Prince Charles finally passes his kidney stone.
The Walking Dead – Nursing home residents get up and move.
The Real Housewives of New Jersey – A harried mom decides to go to the gym, gets in the car, changes her mind, then goes inside to take a nap.
The Amazing Race – A panel of white supremacists celebrate the virtues of being white.
Lighter Side of the Moon – East Bethlehem, PA
A spirited debate is consuming a small Pennsylvania town today as the community grapples with an important question: Is the house with its Christmas lights up really ahead or months behind?
The house, a three bedroom ranch on Apathy Lane, entered the limelight on Monday when concerned neighbors called the National Center for Seasonal Home Décor.
Lighting Commissioner for the NCSHD, Rick Snooty, immediately recognized the gravity of the situation. “Inappropriately timed holiday lighting is a veritable scourge in our society and should not be taken lightly,” Snooty said. “What seems like simple laziness could actually come from genuine, deep-seated malice.”
On the contrary, Porter von Pfeffer, long-time adjudicator of the East Bethlehem Garden Contest, appreciates the effort that went into the home’s display. “Every year, the Christmas decoration contest gets more and more heated,” von Pfeffer said. “I could have predicted that the competitors would start building their entries earlier and display them for longer.”
Many holiday cheer advocates are feeling “jolly” over this display of spirit. Booker Marshall, leader of the PAC “St. Nick Impersonators for Progress,” lauded the homeowners for their brave display of devotion. “Halloween, Valentine’s Day – the great commercialist holidays are crumbling as American institutions,” Marshall said. “They show great courage in supporting the Christmas industry so boldly.”
The conflict has quickly grown out of the town and consumed the nation. President Obama even joined the conversation on Twitter, saying, “I dream of a day when we can celebrate holidays in harmony, even nine months too late #brotherhood.”
“I was the guy who makes you scrub the latrine, the guy who makes you make your bed, the guy who screams at you for being late to work. The job requires you to be a mean, tough person” – Bob Ross on his Army days
(Bob Ross is in the studio, working on a painting in front of the camera.)
BOB ROSS: And now, let’s put some happy little clouds in the sky. We can do whatever we want in our painting, so let’s add some happy little clouds. We’re just going to mix some Creamy White with some Eggshell – where the %$#! is the Eggshell? Which *^%&$#? %!@#head forgot to put the Eggshell on my palette? How !*@^#!& hard is it to do that before I get here? $#%! the %$@%^ Egg&#% before I ^$%& up %#!$#%! PBS? More like %$!&!
(Producer runs up with tube of Eggshell.)
BOB ROSS: And how about we paint a happy little mountain, too.
Please check the desired bonus packages available for your child’s school picture.
Height increase: Stop the teasing. We’ll cut off the top of the frame to make your child look 3 inches taller.
Digital Diet: If the camera adds 10 pounds, we’ll doctor off 30.
Wallet Thickener: Photo will be taken in burst mode to fill Grandma’s photo accordion.
Bahamian Vacation: Look like you spent the summer in the tropics with a digitally-applied tan. Please select an intensity level: (Subtle / Moderate / Insensitive)
Serial Killer Look: The news media will splash this photo of you all over as your neighbors say you were a great kid and didn’t expect it. This package will add depth and realism with bags under the eyes, increased paleness, and greasy, lifeless hair.
Humorous Web Post: When the MSN front page puts this picture in “14 Celebrity Yearbook Photos that Might Surprise You” it will certainly dazzle. We’ll enhance your blemishes, change your hair color, and add horribly outdated clothes so they can see how far you’ve come.
ANNOUNCER: And now, we’re live with the first press conference for recently crowned U.S. Open champion, Tom Greedy.
TOM: Hey, this is just such a great achievement for me and I’m so happy and I want to thank everyone that’s helped me get here but first, just a quick word from my sponsors:
Nike Tennis has provided the sweat-wicking, performance-enhancing lifewear that kept me on the toes throughout the tournament. Nike Tennis: the only sport clothing that makes you imagine you’re playing better.
Adidas Originals hooked me up with these incredible shoes. With an unparalleled combination of supreme comfort, quality construction, and their proprietary Trak-Shun rubber soles, Adidas shoes will keep you on your feet.
My sweatband came from Under Armour. You saw how sweaty I was during that final set? Oh, you didn’t? Exactly. Under Armour: Hang your opponents up to dry.
My towels came from Mike’s Beach Accessories and Embroidery. Mention this speech and you’ll get twenty percent off your first purchase.
Shout out to Yolanda’s Business Cleaners for picking up the tab on my laundry during the tournament. Their poised, professional service let me stay focused on what I do best, thanks guys.
My signature grunt this year: *hhhyyuuuuuurrrrrggDoohey,Preston,andZimmermanTaxAndBusinessLLC-eeeeeeeeeyyyyyaaaaaggggh* was sponsored by Doohey, Preston, and Zimmerman Tax and Business, LLC. Doohey, Preston, and Zimmerman Tax and Business, LLC: Audit your game!
And finally, huge thanks to my parents for buying me this racquet. It’s really awesome.
Music review from Trying to be Different magazine:
Corporate Casual Racism by Tumbleweed Jebediah ft. jim.
In the 1890’s, ragtime hit its apex of popularity, moving from shadowy Red Light districts into mainstream success, echoing from wax cylinders and player pianos everywhere. On the eve of the Great War, however, the syncopated rhythms ceased to pulse on, and the genre devolved into obscurity, then nonexistence, with only a select few nursing homes offering live shows. Luckily, this trend was re-reouted in the late 1990’s in the haberdashery-by-day/pansexual-bazaar-by-nights of rural Utah, where curious youth found ragtime’s allure once again.
Revivalist ragtime’s messiah, nonagenarian Tumbleweed Jebediah, has emerged from the studio with his new cassette, Corporate Casual Racism. The album is chock full of Jebediah’s signature ragged timing, spotty musicianship, and inattention to detail, a rawness that has come to define his recent creations. The dancy, festive sound makes it clear: Tumbleweed Jebediah’s passion is running just as strong as his pacemaker.
The real eye-catcher on this record (besides the Sunday school unfriendly cover art) is the guest appearance by jim., punk’s genderless deity of mayhem. Though the collaboration may seem bizarre, the music proves this is a match made in heaven, as jim.’s animal, piercing vocals ride atop Jebediah’s arthritis-hankered ivory tickling. jim.’s creative spirit spices up the traditional ragtime flavors, offering chaotic synths and crunchy, sharp textures.
It is said this album represents ragtime’s role in the modern cultural conscience, and the theme is hammered home on tracks like “Ragtime’s Gone – Thanks, Obama”, which features a third-grader on the recorder, and “I Took a Dump on a Piano”, which includes a ten minute recording of Tumbleweed Jebediah’s bathroom break during the session.
Corporate Casual Racism will be on store shelves September 16th, and off them within the week.
(A doctor, a circus clown, a young girl, and a pilot are traveling in a plane. The priest and the rabbi were busy in a joke. A loud alarm begins to blare.)
GIRL (panicked): What’s going on? What is that noise?
CLOWN (frightened): *honk*
DOCTOR (looking into cockpit): The pilot’s down. It looks like he blacked out from Earheart Syndrome.
GIRL: Earheart, like the pilot?
DOCTOR (stern): No, Earheart like his blood has pooled in his ears. We’re gonna have to siphon it all out and pipe it back in down his throat.
GIRL (panicked): What are you waiting for? Do it!
DOCTOR: This procedure is best done in a hospital, but it has to be done. Get me a bag of complimentary peanuts and a seatbelt. I’m going to make a slapdash blood pump.
(two seconds later)
CLOWN (returning with items): *squeeeak* *beeeeeeeeewuuuuup*
DOCTOR: Let’s do this. (begins to extract blood) I’ll have to use mouth suction to move the blood. (starts pumping it back into the mouth)
GIRL (sarcastic): There’s no need to narrate the procedure, Dr. Oz! (pilot gaining color)
DOCTOR: He’s gonna make it! I did it!
PILOT: W-w-what happened?
GIRL (joyous): You did it, Doctor! We’ll be saved! We’re-we-we- (faints)
DOCTOR: Hey! Hey! Wake up! Does she have any pre-existing conditions? (looking to other passengers)
PILOT (confused): I don’t know, I’m just the pilot.
CLOWN: *squelch* *blooooooop* *juvenile diabetes* *gweeeerg*
DOCTOR: Her blood sugar is spiking faster than normal! We’re gonna have to deliver the shot straight to the pancreas! Pilot! Give me your pen knife!
PILOT (frustrated): Sorry, Doc! TSA took mine before we got on the plane.
DOCTOR: Fine, we’ll have to make an incision with a corkscrew. Get me some alcohol while you’re at the bar.
PILOT (moving toward bar): To dull the pain?
DOCTOR: No, I just haven’t done this many operations in a day since my residency.
(Doctor begins opening hole with corkscrew and injecting insulin. Graphic, bloody imagery is displayed on screen; home viewers collectively groan and go “Eeeeeeeeew. Was that really necessary.” Girl suddenly wakes up, groggy.)
GIRL: Uuuuuh, what happened? It feels like I’ve got a wide diameter open wound brushing against a dirty airplane floor … or something.
DOCTOR: Stay still, you’re gonna be just fine. (Doctor looks up, steely and confident, marinating in the triumphant mood of the moment, the resounding culmination of several decades in medicine. He abruptly comes back to earth as the girl slumps down, bleeding out.)
CLOWN(excited, then scared): *honk honk honk hunk hyunk hyeeunk-ack-eeeeek-ack-ack-eeeeeeuuuuuugg-uuuuhh*
DOCTOR (hunky but exasperated): Sounds like he’s choking on something.
PILOT (excited): I took a CPR class once! I know the Heimlich! (Doctor gives him a droll, patronizing look)
DOCTOR: I think I should perform the Heimlich.
GIRL (nervous): Can we stop speaking German and help this clown?
(Doctor performs Heimlich. A bowling pin flies through the air.)
PILOT (listening to radio): Hey guys, can you sit down now? We’re cleared to take off.
The Lighter Side of the Moon 