Monthly Archives: March 2006


There are scientists for everything. There are scientists to discover the giant squid and to cure AIDSVIRUS and to make pigs that are delicious for your mouth AND your heart. There are scientists to make an apartment on the moon and to make regular clothes into Hypercolor clothes and who test how strong hair is when using Garnier Fructis shampoo to cleanse it.

And now there are scientists hard at work to develop a movie poster that will give Worker #3116 an erection while simultaneously insuring that he never, EVER sees the movie.

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Je Fou

Worker #3116: I already went to get coffee. You’re too late.
Clown Coffee: Je m’en fou.
Worker #3116: You’re gonna fou if I have anything to say about it.
Clown Coffee: Ha ha.
Worker #3116: You’re gonna fou a lot.

You Heard It Here First

So I saw A History of Violence last night, because as you know, I am working harder than ever to keep YOU up to date on the HOTTEST movies BEFORE they hit the screen.

Basically there’s this guy who owns a diner and then he hits someone in the head with a coffee pot and then he fucks his wife on the stairs. 

How come no one told me that this movie was called A History of Hot Sex Scenes? Jesus Christ, cheerleader role-playing games AND violent stair fucking? Or maybe it should have been called A History of Violent Boners.


Discovery Channel: Still Missing the Point of TV

On “Cash Cab,” a Discovery Channel reality game show, people plop themselves into the back of a seemingly normal, yellow van taxi. But then lights on the ceiling begin flashing and the driver turns around to inform the passengers they’re on television.

En route to the contestant’s destination, comedian Ben Bailey asks general knowledge questions worth $25, $50 and $100. Get three questions wrong, though, and you’re out — on the street, even in the pouring rain, wherever you are.

Hi, Discovery Channel, we already have a TV show where people get asked questions by a cabbie while riding around. It’s called “Taxi Cab Confessions,” and it has a lot of real live fingerbanging of number ones and twos. Does your show have fingerbanging? Okay, riddle me this: why would I want to hear puzzling questions about sharks or John Steinbeck when I can hear puzzling questions about clit piercings and whether or not a prostitute has ever had to sell a baby on the black market?

ENH. You lose. As always. Call me when you Discover sex shows.

How Is Made It That You Feel Qualified to Discuss the Nuclear Energy When You Do Not Know the Shit?

Grand-père #3116 likes to include me on the email forwards he sends to his friends. The latest includes this joke:

Guy gets on a plane and finds himself seated next to a cute blonde. He immediately turns to her and makes his move.”You know,” he says, “I’ve heard that flights will go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger. So let’s talk.”

The blonde, who had just opened her book, closes it slowly and says to the guy, “What would you like to discuss?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” says the guy, smiling. “How about nuclear power?”

“OK,” says the blonde. “That could be an interesting topic. But let me ask you a question first.  A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff — grass. Yet the deer excretes little pellets, the cow turns out flat patty, and the horse produces muffins of dried poop. Why do you suppose that is?”

The guy is dumbfounded.  Finally he replies, “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“So tell me,” says the blonde, “How is it that you feel qualified to discuss nuclear power when you don’t know shit?”

Personally, I found the joke more weird then funny. Like the part where the guy tries to be flirtatious and invite her to talk but then turns the invitation into a command. Or the part where he wants to talk about nuclear power? Muffins of dried poop? But I thought maybe Grandpère #3116 originally heard the joke in French, and it somehow lost its humor in the translation. So I babelfished it to hear the joke in the original:

Le type obtient sur un avion et les trouvailles lui-même posés à côté d’une blonde mignonne. Il se tourne immédiatement vers elle et entreprend sa démarche.”Vous savez,” il dit, “J’avez entendu que les vols iront plus vite si vous frappez vers le haut d’une conversation avec votre passager de camarade. Ainsi parlons.”

La blonde, qui avait juste ouvert son livre, le ferme lentement et dit au type, “ce qui vous aime discuter?”

“OH, je ne sais pas,” dit le type, souriant. “que diriez-vous de l’énergie nucléaire?”

“CORRECT,” dit la blonde. “qui pourrait être une matière intéressante. Mais laissez-moi vous posent une question d’abord. Un cheval, une vache, et un cerf commun tous mangent la même substance — herbe. Pourtant le cerf commun excrète de petits granules, la vache s’avère le petit pâté plat, et le cheval produit des petits pains de sec épuisent. Pourquoi vous supposez qui est?”

Le type est confus. Enfin il répond, “je n’ai pas la plus légère idée.”

“Dites-ainsi moi que,” dit la blonde, “comment se fait il que vous vous sentez qualifié pour discuter l’énergie nucléaire quand vous ne connaissez pas la merde?”

This wasn’t that much funnier, really. Although I do like the part where he asks if she wants to talk about nuclear energy and the lady responds “CORRECT.” So I realized that maybe the original translator had gotten it wrong. I babelfished it to get a more accurate, nuanced telling:

The type obtains on a plane and the lucky finds itself posed beside a nice blonde. It turns immediately to her and takes her step.

“You know,” it says, “I heard that the flights will go more quickly if you strike to the top of a conversation with your passenger of comrade. Thus let us speak.”

The blonde, who had just opened her book, the farm and had slowly called to the type, “What loves you to discuss?” 

“Oh, I do not know,” known as the type, smiling. “That would you say nuclear energy?”

“CORRECT,” known as the blonde. “Which could be an interesting matter. But leave me ask you a question initially. A horse, a cow, and a common stag all eat the same substance — grass. However the common stag excrète of small granules, the cow proves to be small flat pie, and the produced horse of the rolls of dryness exhaust. Why you suppose who is?”

The type is confused. Finally it answers, “I do not have the lightest idea.”

“Known as-thus me that,” known as the blonde, “how is made it that you feel qualified to discuss the nuclear energy when you do not know the shit?”

HA HA HA HA. I get it. Merci, Grandpère #3116, merci beaucoup.

Pussy Dolls

BREAKING: Pussycat Dolls Love Pussy

I don’t know why we need to keep coming back to the Pussycat Dolls, but apparently these million dollar aerobics instructors are the biggest enigmas in pop music today. In the latest installment, we come up against their new single, “Beep.” First, let’s watch the music video:

On a purely imagistic level, let’s break this shit down: pretty girl gets into industrial elevator in what must be a pretty rough neighborhood not yet overrun by the Starbucksian forces of gentrification. So she can take care of herself. While riding the elevator, a famous metrosexual/shitty musician hits on her. She laughs at him. She finally reaches her apartment, where she lives with a bunch of beautiful, flexible women. She gives one of them a very butch fist-to-fist empowerment greeting. The famous man is left to listen to records by himself on headphones, presumably because his neighbors, the women, hate his music and have beaten him up in the past. He knows when to keep to himself. 

Cut to: getting ready for the club. One of the girls gives another girl a roundkick to the ribs. It is playful but the message is clear: I’m a killing machine. The girls, still in their work-out garb, do some warm up dances that are very confrontational, and also flirtatious. They get in each other’s faces, they slap each other’s behinds. This is what is popularly referred to as “foreplay.” The famous man rides an emasculating children’s bike alone in the hallways. The girls perform a workout routine. The famous man purcheas a cola and watches the girls dance. When he is spotted, one of the girls throws a bottle at his head.

Cut to: at the club. The girls arrive…together…in some kind of militaristic formation. They begin a synchronized, highly agressive dance that lets everyone in the club know that they can look, but they better not touch. (Remember: roundkick to ribs). The girls pair off and pretend to fuck each other violently. Actually, if you pay careful attention, there aren’t even any men in the club anways. Just women, in underwear. Oh wait, the famous man is at the club, but as usual he is by himself, sitting on an ottoman and wondering if he will ever get laid again. The girls get together and take some party pictures. This is to capture the memory of a great night out before going home and licking each other’s vaginas.

And now, some lyrics:

Every boy’s the same
Since I been in the seventh grade
They been trying to get with me
Trying to (Ha, ha-ha, ha, ha-ha)
They always got a plan
To be my one and only man
Want to hold me with their hands
Want to (Ha, ha-ha, ha, ha-ha)
I keep turning them down
But, they always come around
Asking me to go around
That’s not the way it’s going down

Okay, so the heroine of the song is used to getting hit on by boys (and I’m just going to make the extension that men have also hit on her), but she always turns them down. Why? Let’s keep reading:

Ooh, you’ve got it bad I can tell
You want it bad, but oh well
Dude, what you got for me
Is something I
Something I don’t need

If one is capable of filling in the “beeps” that riddle the song, what “you” has for “me” in this verse is a “penis” for my “vagina.” But I don’t need that. Why? Because I’m a dyke.

And scene.