Monday, November 21, 2011

This just in:

The Secret Service is going to protect Herman Cain; his codename? Senor Delicioso.

Congress has declared school lunch pizza as a vegetable; it is all part of their policy: No child left without a huge behind.

Since you asked:

In its glory days of the early '90's, "Spy" magazine was a revelation. Funny, entertaining, informative. It's goal seemed to be to rip the BS off of celebrities both in politics and entertainment. It had ground-breaking features like "Separated at Birth" and wrote controversial pieces like "Bill Clinton's 100 Lies." And it backed them up with credible journalism.

For example, back then Joey Bishop had been a huge celebrity comedian, but was off the grid for a few decades. So "Spy" called famous people leaving a message to call Joey Bishop then timed how soon they called Bishop back, a former legend who could no longer do them any career favors. The usual suspects never called back, Cher, Madonna, Donald Trump, Arnold Schwarzenegger. The really nice people called back right away: Tom Hanks, Tom Brokaw, Meryl Streep.

Demi "Gemme" Moore and Bruce Willis will never cleanse themselves of the splatter from a "Spy" piece on their world class rudeness and churlish selfishness off camera during movie shoots. Laughably horrible behavior.

But as bad as they were they didn't make the list of celebrities who are so awful to other people, I refuse to watch anything they do:

Val Kilmer ("Tombstone" the one exception)

Steven Seagal

Wesley Snipes

Sylvester Stallone

Paris Hilton

And now I would like to officially add Kristen Stewart and Kim Kardashian to this infamous list.

(You know who should be on this list, but I like his characters in movies too much? Sadly, John Cusak. Yep, a north suburban Chicago kid who apparently is the rudest d*ck alive)

Worst Thanksgiving Ever?

No question, the year after I graduated from UCSB. In Six months I want from a Rush Chairman at the top fraternity, Sigma Chi, member of the track team, T.A. for a speech communication professor, big brother for the hottest sorority, Delta Gamma, and waiter at the town's most popular restaurant to just a schmuck who was a waiter at a restaurant. (Nothing against waiters, it is a great job, I am saying I was a schmuck)

My girlfriend had moved back to Northern Cal, most of my friends now lived in Los Angeles, so I decided to work Thanksgiving day and night at the restaurant, the Elegant Farmer. An assistant manager had just been promoted from waiter and he was in charge of the Thanksgiving dinner. He under-ordered everything. We ran out of everything. How does a restaurant run out of turkey, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving? I don 't know, but we did.

Customers were either hurt and upset or downright furious and I didn't blame them. It was the shift from hell.

When my shift was over we had a nice late Thanksgiving dinner at my girlfriend's house consisting of the orphans who were still in town with no invitations for Thanksgiving. It was fun and nice, and we played charades and got hammered. Passed out on the couch.

The next day I had the worst hangover I had ever had due to champagne. Driving home in my red P.O.S. Audi station wagon, I ran out of gas. Had to push the car one mile to a gas station. Finally made it home to my room in a P.O.S. rundown Goleta tract home with the pin ball machine the only furniture in the living room.

Now, before you go crying yourself to sleep for me, remember I was windsurfing nearly every day, going out bar-hopping in beautiful downtown Santa Barbara most nights and meeting some extremely fun and attractive women.