Easter began thousands of years ago when Roman soldiers crucified a bunny in order to scare off potential followers of Jesus. The thinking was “If they’ll crucify a bunny…” The best part of this story is that the bunny didn’t stay dead! When his tomb was opened on the third day, all that was found was a brightly colored egg, and marshmallow “peeps” on shredded green plastic arranged in a basket.
The eggs were thought to be a type of coded message. People began searching and soon other, similar eggs were soon found, each one bringing the followers closer to the bunny’s secret location, which was at a pot of gold, under a rainbow. Unfortunately, a leprechaun succeeded in what the Roman soldiers could not, by boiling him in milk chocolate, thereby trapping him in the only substance on earth that the bunny was incapable of eating through. Because he was lactose intolerant.
That’s why every Easter, when children all over the world wake up and find chocolate bunnies in their Easter basket, they run the risk of unleashing his terrible fury upon the unsuspecting world. Jesus, to his credit, has been trying hard to track down the bunny and send him back to hell, but as you may or may not know, chocolate is kind of like kryptonite for Jesus; he can’t see through it.
Ladies and Gentleman, Jesus needs your support. He can’t continue his search for the bunny without generous donations from you. If this story has touched your heart, please send contributions, no matter how large, to me. I’ll, umm, make sure he gets them...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
5 Tips for Flat, Sexy Abs
Many, many people e-mail me every day for tips on how to get those flat, sexy abs they see on TV and in the underwear magazines they subscribe to. Well, you asked for it! Here are my 5 tips, for flat sexy abs.
1) Go to college. In this globalized economy, having a college degree is even more vital than ever before in not only racking up student debt, but also becoming underemployed once the job you went to school for is outsourced. What does this have to do with flat, sexy abs? It’s hard to get fat when you don’t have money for food.
2) Learn a different language, at least, if not especially, the curse words.
3) Read The Mill on the Floss, Wuthering Heights, and Eustace Diamonds, in that order. It will make you appreciate books that aren’t 18th century literature.
4) Don’t fist your mister every day. Make it a once in a while thing. It will mean more to you, and your climaxes will be more intense.
5) Get off your ass and do some sit ups!
1) Go to college. In this globalized economy, having a college degree is even more vital than ever before in not only racking up student debt, but also becoming underemployed once the job you went to school for is outsourced. What does this have to do with flat, sexy abs? It’s hard to get fat when you don’t have money for food.
2) Learn a different language, at least, if not especially, the curse words.
3) Read The Mill on the Floss, Wuthering Heights, and Eustace Diamonds, in that order. It will make you appreciate books that aren’t 18th century literature.
4) Don’t fist your mister every day. Make it a once in a while thing. It will mean more to you, and your climaxes will be more intense.
5) Get off your ass and do some sit ups!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Independence Day Monologue
Yesterday I auditioned for student films at Pima Community College. It was a blanket audition for 20 different films. Since I’ve only done one audition before, I didn’t have a monologue ready, so they gave me this one:
Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind.
"Mankind." That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!
You might recognize it as the monologue from Independence Day. Now, there’s no way I’m going to pull off a monologue that even Bill Pullman couldn’t salvage. But I tried. And failed miserably. Imagine reading the above monogue and getting most of the words wrong, with absolutely no expression in your voice, thinking the whole time that you should have stayed home and watched Dawson’s Creek in bed eating bon bons. You have a good starting point of how bad the monologue came out. Since I have no improv training, I wasn’t able to perform it the way I wanted to. The way it should have been performed. In the movie, I mean. This is what the President (Bill Pullman’s character) should have said:
Good morning, I’m the President of the United States, but some of you may remember me better as Lone Star from the movie Space Balls.
In less than an hour, we’re going to wrap up this train wreck of a movie that’s already run about an hour too long. Will Smith is going to say “Aaah, hell naw!!” a few more times. Jeff Goldblum is going to keep doing that annoying Jeff Goldblum thing that he does, and I’m most certainly not going to win an Oscar for this monologue that I’m performing right now.
Mankind—that word has a new meaning for us today. No longer will it simply refer to the creepy WWE character played by Mick Foley. The word will instead come to be an amalgam of two different words: “man” and “kind.” Perhaps we should all be a little kinder to each other, but not to the aliens, because that would be silly.
Perhaps its fate that today is the Independence Day, and that the movie is called Independence Day, and that it was released on the Independence Day. Yes, fate, or some kind of genius marketing scheme. From this day forward, should we win, the Fourth of July will no longer be an American holiday, but a worldwide one. Except for the French, whom you will notice are conspicuously absent from the group of fighter pilots. Pussies.
Let’s face it people, we’re all gonna die. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those are fucking aliens we’re up against, with fucking laser beams. They are single-minded in their purpose, which is to wipe our asses of the map, and most likely feel no pain. I mean, let’s say hypothetically we defeat these bastards. There’s probably another wave waiting behind that one. We’re fucking screwed people. Pray to whatever god you believe in. Not like it’ll do any good, cause the aliens probably took them out first.
Smoke if you got ‘em!
Way better, right? This actually inspired me to begin work on a new screenplay called ID42: Cinco de Mayo. More on that later…
Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind.
"Mankind." That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom... Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: "We will not go quietly into the night!" We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!
You might recognize it as the monologue from Independence Day. Now, there’s no way I’m going to pull off a monologue that even Bill Pullman couldn’t salvage. But I tried. And failed miserably. Imagine reading the above monogue and getting most of the words wrong, with absolutely no expression in your voice, thinking the whole time that you should have stayed home and watched Dawson’s Creek in bed eating bon bons. You have a good starting point of how bad the monologue came out. Since I have no improv training, I wasn’t able to perform it the way I wanted to. The way it should have been performed. In the movie, I mean. This is what the President (Bill Pullman’s character) should have said:
Good morning, I’m the President of the United States, but some of you may remember me better as Lone Star from the movie Space Balls.
In less than an hour, we’re going to wrap up this train wreck of a movie that’s already run about an hour too long. Will Smith is going to say “Aaah, hell naw!!” a few more times. Jeff Goldblum is going to keep doing that annoying Jeff Goldblum thing that he does, and I’m most certainly not going to win an Oscar for this monologue that I’m performing right now.
Mankind—that word has a new meaning for us today. No longer will it simply refer to the creepy WWE character played by Mick Foley. The word will instead come to be an amalgam of two different words: “man” and “kind.” Perhaps we should all be a little kinder to each other, but not to the aliens, because that would be silly.
Perhaps its fate that today is the Independence Day, and that the movie is called Independence Day, and that it was released on the Independence Day. Yes, fate, or some kind of genius marketing scheme. From this day forward, should we win, the Fourth of July will no longer be an American holiday, but a worldwide one. Except for the French, whom you will notice are conspicuously absent from the group of fighter pilots. Pussies.
Let’s face it people, we’re all gonna die. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those are fucking aliens we’re up against, with fucking laser beams. They are single-minded in their purpose, which is to wipe our asses of the map, and most likely feel no pain. I mean, let’s say hypothetically we defeat these bastards. There’s probably another wave waiting behind that one. We’re fucking screwed people. Pray to whatever god you believe in. Not like it’ll do any good, cause the aliens probably took them out first.
Smoke if you got ‘em!
Way better, right? This actually inspired me to begin work on a new screenplay called ID42: Cinco de Mayo. More on that later…
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Merry Jesusmas!!!
What is Jesusmas? Well, in all the holiday hustle and bustle, I think we’ve really lost focus on what Christmas is about. Is it merely about the gift giving and materialism? The friends and family? The decorations and TV specials? Or is it about something more? It’s easy to forget why we began celebrating at this time of year…
Thousands of years ago, pagans celebrated the winter solstice. Jesus came to earth to put a stop to this nonsense, which is why he timed his birth to occur almost exactly on the solar event. Of course we all know how the story goes from there: Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, sheep, a manger, three wise men, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. What you may not have heard about was the orgy that ensued, which was edited out of later versions of the Bible, along with the unicorns.
We often hear it said now that “Jesus is the Reason for the Season,” which I find suspicious due to the fact that there is no mall Jesus. Instead, we have a Mr. Clause. And while technically a “saint,” he is hardly a substitute for the Son of God. I have often thought that without the red suit and had, Santa Clause would look remarkably like a Renaissance-era God. This has led me to theorize that Santa Clause is actually God in disguise. Or vice versa. I have also thought that with mutton chops and a jumpsuit, Jesus would look like a Vegas-era Elvis. What does this mean? I’ll leave that for you, the reader, to decide.
Christmas means literally “More Christ,” and I think we should take time to remember what Jesusmas is really about. That’s why instead of giving gifts for the holiday season, I like to celebrate by getting virgins pregnant. And I encourage everyone in here to do the same. Merry Jesusmas!
Thousands of years ago, pagans celebrated the winter solstice. Jesus came to earth to put a stop to this nonsense, which is why he timed his birth to occur almost exactly on the solar event. Of course we all know how the story goes from there: Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, sheep, a manger, three wise men, gold, frankincense, and myrrh. What you may not have heard about was the orgy that ensued, which was edited out of later versions of the Bible, along with the unicorns.
We often hear it said now that “Jesus is the Reason for the Season,” which I find suspicious due to the fact that there is no mall Jesus. Instead, we have a Mr. Clause. And while technically a “saint,” he is hardly a substitute for the Son of God. I have often thought that without the red suit and had, Santa Clause would look remarkably like a Renaissance-era God. This has led me to theorize that Santa Clause is actually God in disguise. Or vice versa. I have also thought that with mutton chops and a jumpsuit, Jesus would look like a Vegas-era Elvis. What does this mean? I’ll leave that for you, the reader, to decide.
Christmas means literally “More Christ,” and I think we should take time to remember what Jesusmas is really about. That’s why instead of giving gifts for the holiday season, I like to celebrate by getting virgins pregnant. And I encourage everyone in here to do the same. Merry Jesusmas!
Friday, November 28, 2008
Script Idea
I have a new movie idea that would turn the Friday series (starring Ice Cube) into a quadrilogy. Instead of calling the next Friday movie something along the lines of The Last Friday, or Friday the 13th—where Ice Cube and Jason Voorhees finally battle it out (though that would be totally badass!), the movie would instead be called Black Friday.
The plot would revolve around Ice Cube’s character Craig and his zany ensemble of friends going to the mall early in the morning looking for killer deals on a flat panel television and then presumably smoking pot and/or reinforcing negative race-related stereotypes, for comedic effect. Anyone looking to collaborate on this ambitious endeavor is encouraged to contact me!
The plot would revolve around Ice Cube’s character Craig and his zany ensemble of friends going to the mall early in the morning looking for killer deals on a flat panel television and then presumably smoking pot and/or reinforcing negative race-related stereotypes, for comedic effect. Anyone looking to collaborate on this ambitious endeavor is encouraged to contact me!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
The First Thanksgiving
It's hard to believe that Thanksgiving has only been around for about 387 years. Before that people just sat around and complained about how miserable their lives were because of (you fill in the blank: no air conditioning, no indoor plumbing, how many goddamn Indians there were running around, etc).
In 1621, the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, an amazing coincidence to be sure, being as they had just left Plymouth. In order to uphold the deal with the devil they had made ensuring safe passage across the Atlantic Ocean, the Pilgrims built an altar and sacrificed a turkey to the Dark Lord Beelzebub. Why a turkey? Well, the Pilgrims believed that the turkey was a sacred bird.
You see, the Pilgrims were apostates who left the Holy Anglican Church because they didn't believe that the literal body of Christ was present in the Eucharist. They believed that a real body and real blood were meant to be used, and not the crackers and wine found in so many church services. This heretical belief drove them to search for a new land in which they could indulge their blood lust, which brings us back to the Turkey.
You might ask "Why did they use the blood of a Turkey and not a real person?" The answer is at once both terrifying and slightly humorous. Through some sort of dark magic, the Pilgrims must have known in advance that the turkey was to become Benjamin Franklin's vote for national bird, and in effort to alter the course of history, attempted to kill as many of the non-flighted fowls as they could.
Realizing that annual, or even bi-monthly sacrifices to the Evil One would have little effect on the turkey population, they devised a holiday, whereby under the guise of "giving thanks" one would eat the soul of a turkey (turkey souls are largely believed to reside in the giblet). And so the tradition remains today, that on Thanksgiving, as many turkeys are to be killed and eaten as possible. The bitter irony in all of this is that the Bald Eagle now enjoys the status of both national bird and endangered species.
So this Thanksgiving, as the family gathers around the dinner table, as the mashed potatoes are passed, and as the elders carve up "the bird," remember the real reason for this holiday- the slaughter and attempted genocide of turkeys. And don't forget to call dibs on the giblet!
In 1621, the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock, an amazing coincidence to be sure, being as they had just left Plymouth. In order to uphold the deal with the devil they had made ensuring safe passage across the Atlantic Ocean, the Pilgrims built an altar and sacrificed a turkey to the Dark Lord Beelzebub. Why a turkey? Well, the Pilgrims believed that the turkey was a sacred bird.
You see, the Pilgrims were apostates who left the Holy Anglican Church because they didn't believe that the literal body of Christ was present in the Eucharist. They believed that a real body and real blood were meant to be used, and not the crackers and wine found in so many church services. This heretical belief drove them to search for a new land in which they could indulge their blood lust, which brings us back to the Turkey.
You might ask "Why did they use the blood of a Turkey and not a real person?" The answer is at once both terrifying and slightly humorous. Through some sort of dark magic, the Pilgrims must have known in advance that the turkey was to become Benjamin Franklin's vote for national bird, and in effort to alter the course of history, attempted to kill as many of the non-flighted fowls as they could.
Realizing that annual, or even bi-monthly sacrifices to the Evil One would have little effect on the turkey population, they devised a holiday, whereby under the guise of "giving thanks" one would eat the soul of a turkey (turkey souls are largely believed to reside in the giblet). And so the tradition remains today, that on Thanksgiving, as many turkeys are to be killed and eaten as possible. The bitter irony in all of this is that the Bald Eagle now enjoys the status of both national bird and endangered species.
So this Thanksgiving, as the family gathers around the dinner table, as the mashed potatoes are passed, and as the elders carve up "the bird," remember the real reason for this holiday- the slaughter and attempted genocide of turkeys. And don't forget to call dibs on the giblet!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Apocalypse Now Review
When Apocalypse Now was released in 1979, it set the benchmark for what all Vietnam War era films would hope to aspire to. Unfortunately, films such as Casualties of War would mistake this benchmark for a tree after a long night of drinking and piss all over it. When you have Marty McFly and Jeff Spicoli together in a movie about Vietnam, it had better be a comedy...or at least a buddy cop movie.
For the uninitiated, Apocalypse Now was originally based on the Joseph Conrad novel Heart of Darkness, and set in the African Congo. It was later re-made into a musical, then into a short lived Disney on Ice show. Martin Scorscese updated the film to make it socially relevant, set it in Vietnam rather than the African Congo, and started out the movie with a close up of green-beret-gone-apeshit Martin Sheen’s ass-crack—and it doesn’t let up from there. This was a brave move on Scorscese’s part, due to the immense popularity of the war (and Martin Sheen’s ass-crack), and how unfavorable it was looked upon to question the rationale behind both of them. The movie was later re-made for television, set in the middle of the Korean War conflict, and featured wisecracking Alan Alda.
Sheen’s mission is simple: go up the Vietcong river into Cambodia and dispatch of Colonel Kurtz "with extreme prejudice." Sheen somehow interprets this order as "saunter up the river taking your sweet-ass time and fall in love with the guy we want you to kill" then proceeds to spend the better part of the next two hours hanging out on a boat, stopping occasionally to shoot peasants and smoke pot. When he finally reaches Kurtz (an old, bald, sweaty Marlon Brando) he finds he cannot bring himself to kill, and instead promptly gets thrown into a prison cell.
With the homoerotic tension between Sheen and Brando reaching a boiling point, Sheen somehow sweet-talks his way out, and hacks Kurtz to into bite-size pieces with a machete. The pieces, however, don’t stay apart long. The pull themselves back together and form Mecha-Kurtz! Luckily, Sheen is able to knock him into a vat of molten steel, which it turns out is the only way to defeat Mecha-Kurtz.
I give this movie a 38AAA.
For the uninitiated, Apocalypse Now was originally based on the Joseph Conrad novel Heart of Darkness, and set in the African Congo. It was later re-made into a musical, then into a short lived Disney on Ice show. Martin Scorscese updated the film to make it socially relevant, set it in Vietnam rather than the African Congo, and started out the movie with a close up of green-beret-gone-apeshit Martin Sheen’s ass-crack—and it doesn’t let up from there. This was a brave move on Scorscese’s part, due to the immense popularity of the war (and Martin Sheen’s ass-crack), and how unfavorable it was looked upon to question the rationale behind both of them. The movie was later re-made for television, set in the middle of the Korean War conflict, and featured wisecracking Alan Alda.
Sheen’s mission is simple: go up the Vietcong river into Cambodia and dispatch of Colonel Kurtz "with extreme prejudice." Sheen somehow interprets this order as "saunter up the river taking your sweet-ass time and fall in love with the guy we want you to kill" then proceeds to spend the better part of the next two hours hanging out on a boat, stopping occasionally to shoot peasants and smoke pot. When he finally reaches Kurtz (an old, bald, sweaty Marlon Brando) he finds he cannot bring himself to kill, and instead promptly gets thrown into a prison cell.
With the homoerotic tension between Sheen and Brando reaching a boiling point, Sheen somehow sweet-talks his way out, and hacks Kurtz to into bite-size pieces with a machete. The pieces, however, don’t stay apart long. The pull themselves back together and form Mecha-Kurtz! Luckily, Sheen is able to knock him into a vat of molten steel, which it turns out is the only way to defeat Mecha-Kurtz.
I give this movie a 38AAA.
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