Saturday, January 31, 2004

I got my Mojo workin’ but it just ain’t workin’ on you, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

And here we thought he didn’t care
Saudi Arabia's top cleric, Sheik Abdul Aziz al-Sheik, called on Muslims to forsake terrorism. Wow, that’s really going out on a limb, isn’t it? A religious leader that’s actually against people blowing up people? That’s bold. Next he’ll say we should be kind to puppies and kittens.

Should Christians follow the Muslim cleric’s lead and make an adjustment to the Lord’s Prayer? “Give us this day our daily bread, and lead us not into temptation and please, please don’t blow people up. Amen.”

Slick Willy slides past a deadline
Bill Clinton is reportedly way past his deadline on his autobiography. Apparently, Clinton’s writing style is slow. Clinton doesn’t use a computer, he writes longhand on a legal pad, he likes to discuss topics in detail before he writes them down and he spends a lot of time chasing tail.

Clinton is writing slowly. Every time he has to use the word is, he has to ask what it means.

This shouldn’t be surprising that a man who once asked for the definitions of alone, is and sex, is having trouble writing a book.

It should be no surprise that a guy who, conservatively, takes over 130 shots in a single round of golf and then gives himself a score of eighty is having trouble calculating a deadline.

You have to feel sorry for Clinton’s publishers. What are they going to say to the former president of United States about missing a deadline? “Hey, Slick Willy, you mind getting off that intern and getting the lead out? We got a company to run here, Cigar-boy.”

Can’t you just hear the conversation Bill Clinton had with his publisher when he missed his autobiography deadline? “Heck, sorry about missing the deadline, but, like I told my buddy at the IRS who I can still have audit people on command, I should be done pretty soon.”

Bennifer, we hardly knew ye
Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck continue to blame their break up on the media. That’s like James Brown blaming his scary mug shot on the police photographer.

My enduring memory of J. Lo and Ben will be their front row appearance at a nationally televised Boston Red Sox playoff game. When the camera predictably shot them, they appeared annoyed and waved it away. That’s like going to passport photo shop and getting angry when they take your picture.

On no, Senior
Officials in Tijuana, Mexico have announced they are going to crack down on bars that offer “All you can drink” specials. Gosh, I hope this doesn’t contribute to Tijuana’s horrible shortage of drunk tourists.

And now, a little journey to a place I like to call, the Catskill Mountain lounge in your mind
“Touching the Void” is a new movie about the remarkable and true story of two mountain climbers. Please, do not confuse the amazing “Touching the Void” with these other films.
(Get the drum kit out for the rimshots)

The psychology documentary: “Touching the Freud.” Badaboom.

The bodybuilding instructional video : “Touching the Deltoid.” Rinkadink.

The Brooklyn-based ornithological film: “Touching the Boid.” Bangabash.

The anger-management therapist massage technique tape: “Touching the Annoyed.” Dingaling.

The porno the father of Jeff and Beau Bridge made when he was broke: “Touching the Lloyd.” Kaboomaroom.

The very special episode of “The Andy Griffith Show” where the barber gets lucky; “Touching the Floyd.” Wheeze.

And especially do not mistake the mountain climbing story “Touching the Void” with that med-school proctology video: “Touching the ‘Roid.”
Taaaaaah Daaaaahhhhhh!

Thank you, I'll be here all weak, try the veal and tip your waitresses.

Since you asked:
With the endless amount of talented and amazing people in this country, it has always been surprising to me that our choices of candidates can be so lacking. Why is that?

Think back to high school. Who ran for school offices? The brains? No, they were too busy studying. The jocks? Please. The cool kids? They didn’t want to be bothered. The stoners? You know what they were doing.

No, in high school, as in real life, the slightly odd kids desperate for approval, the ones who looked great on paper but made you somehow feel creepy, they ran for office and we voted them in, partly because we knew how hard they would work for our acceptance.

It’s the same thing with the presidency. You have to have more than one screw loose to want to put up with the aggravation and expense of running for president.

You had a Bill Clinton in your high school, you just didn’t know him. That was the guy who quietly fumed while the cool kids had all the parties and the jocks got all the cheerleaders, poor Bill Clinton sat at home studying his brains out, the whole time plotting:

“Man, I’m gonna show them. I’m gonna go to Harvard, become a governor, maybe even president, and then I am going hang with movie stars and get all the girls.”

And Bill was right, he had to become governor and president just to get laid.

You knew Hillary Clinton in high school. She was the head of girls club, she organized the pep rally, she painted the banners for the football game, she did all the work for the ice cream social. The only thing Hillary didn’t do was get invited to parties and the prom, and she has devoted her entire public life to get back at the people who snubbed her -- only now they are called republicans -- the whole while laboring under the guise of helping the less-fortunate.

I was genuinely not surprised by the seemingly cool Dr. Howard Dean’s red-faced rant. Amused, but not surprised.

Why can’t our presidents be funny, smart, cool, witty, as well as moral, like President Bartlett on “The West Wing?” Because Bartlett isn’t real, “The West Wing” is pretend. (Somebody forgot to tell Martin Sheen that when he made his anti-Iraq commercial) Our presidents, and our presidential candidates, are, sadly, real.

Remember this expression? “If you can’t find the sucker at the poker game, it’s you.”

You don’t have to find the whacko running for president, if they are running for president, they are, by definition, a whacko.