Dear Sandra...

 

I love Us Weekly because I am, above all, an avid reader. According to the their hard-nosed journalists, Jesse James (pictured here saluting America's appreciation for high-minded political satire) has entered rehab. I didn't know there were facilities that treated skank-addiction. And what's wrong with skanks? But hey, it's Hollywood, so kudos to the folks who saw that niche in the market and filled it.

I don't spend much time thinking about public figures and their personal dramas, except insofar as they make good fodder for stand-up. There's just something about beating my comedian buddies to the punch with a good elected-official-solicits-sex-in-an-airport-men's room joke that tickles my ass with a feather. 

But I can't help but wonder about this sordid affair, mainly because I've always had a minor crush on Sandra Bullock. Well, not always. When I first saw her - I guess it was in Speed, I thought...

   
 ...but I'm a sucker for petite brunettes - or at least petite brunettes who are talented, funny, and have millions of dollars - so I got over it. 

What makes this story interesting is that it affirms a lot of men's opinion that what the smart, cute girl next door really wants is the heavily-tattooed bad-boy across the tracks. Whether it's true for most women or not is beside the point. With Jessandra, that cliche is being played out on the public stage. Try as I might to not care, I can't help but speculate about why these two hooked up in the first place:


1. Jesse is a fun, wild dude who used to be married to a porn-star, and Sandra thought she was the one who could tame the savage beast.

2. Sandra is the polar opposite of a porn-star, and Jesse thought it was time to "settle down." 

3. They're just two people who really enjoy fucking each other, and what do you care anyway? Maybe you should cancel your subscription to Us Weekly and focus on your own life.

That said, if anyone has Sandra's email address, could you forward the following? Thanks in advance.

Dear Sandra: How are you? I am fine. My name is Dan, and I'm a full-time university English instructor and part-time stand-up comic. But smarts and a sense of humor aren't the only things we have in common: I, too, have small breasts. I think we'd make a good match for other reasons as well. You're an actress, and I have some totally kick-ass movie ideas! How do you feel about nude scenes? I feel weird writing you this because, to be honest, I'm not usually attracted to older women. There's you and co-host of MSNBC's Morning Joe, Mika Brzezinski. She's actually only one year older than I am. I don't know what it is about her. Maybe it's the prissy, prep-school girl attitude. Or the fact that she's the daughter of Zbignew Brzezinski, the Skull-and-Bones Free-Mason Illuminatus who, on orders from his Satanic Annunaki overlords from Planet X, plans to destroy 90% of the population and enslave the rest in 2012, but something tells me she likes to be spanked. Anyway, I have no tattoos and haven't ridden a motorcycle since I was fourteen. I've published poetry in leading literary journals that no one reads, and I make a mean linguine with clam sauce. If you don't find me handsome, no problem, I'll eat your ass till you forget what I look like. My right thumb is to my ear and right pinky is to my mouth [Calllll meeee].

Yours,
Dan

White Dopes On Punk, pt. 4

I had to settle for the digital versions of Government Issue's YOU and CRASH. The only decent wax my vinyl guru and I could locate was a Swedish issue of the latter: $35 + international shipping. And The Complete History does not include every track (hey Dr. Strange Records, complete means all. Anything less is historical revisionism). Luckily, though, I got these mid-90's re-issues un-opened, so they're about as pristine as digital can get.

Listening to them again for the first time in 20 years or more, I'd still rank them in my top favorites - at least as far as albums released in my youth go. I can't say that for other items in my collection. The House Martins? What the hell was I thinking? Oh, that's right, I was fifteen years old. 

Anyway. It's hard if not impossible to find good GI clips online, but there's this. It's one of those boardwalk, make-your-own-video-karaoke type things. Ignore the maracas, close your eyes, and hear the rock.

He's a Hitler! He's a Hitler!

I don't know if you noticed or not, but for the 3.8 seconds I was able to stomach Sarah Palin's stump speech for McCain the other day, I noticed that the crowd was low on minorities and females and high on men in red, white, and blue shirts. 

The Tea Party "protesters" are even better, brilliantly adding flag bandanas and Ted Nugent tees to the already-popular Ignorant White Trash Piece of Shit look. Not to mention the charmingly misspelled signs that broadcast the traditional American values of stupidity and blind hatred.

I'm not sure about this whole Obama = Hitler thing, though. First of all, Obama just signed a bill that would allow about 10% of the population to go to the doctor without having to file Chapter 11. Hitler had those people shot. Obama is at least moving toward repealing Don't Ask Don't Tell. Hitler had homosexuals shot. Obama recently had Benjamin Netanyahu in the White House. Hitler would have invited him to tea and had him shot.

But if you still think Obama is Hitler, please let me refer you to my very funny friend, Brett Erickson.

And Now, This...

Sarah Palin is doing a show for The Learning Channel. I could just stop right there, but I feel the need to justify the few minutes I spent finding the art for this post.

<--  Art.

I'm not a big fan of television in the first place, but this gives me reason to add two more channels to my personal shit list: TLC, of course, and Discovery, who owns it. It's just further proof that even so-called "educational" TV is all about the bottom line. 

Why does Palin continue to get so much air time? Because she continues to get so much air time, that's why. The medium is the message, and the message is bullshit. I have no inside scoop as to why Discovery would spend a dime on Palin, but I have a hunch: Maybe she'll say or do something incredibly stupid every week, and they'll get non-stop coverage on The Huffington Post.

So A Guy Walks Onto The Mountaintop...

I had the good fortune to share the stage with Maria Bamford this past Friday. It was my first opportunity to see her live, and I can say without equivocation that she delivered one of the most satisfying hours of comedy I've ever seen in person. It wasn't the jokes. I've laughed harder at other comics' individual jokes. It wasn't the presence or delivery or voices. And it sure as hell wasn't the ensemble from Target.

It was the whole package - completely original and inimitable. You can't repeat any of the material to your friends at the bar and make it fly. The kind of act where, as a comic, you walk out inspired to do better and simultaneously wondering why you even bother. A testament to live performance over any form of reproduction.

I was a fan before. Now I'm a disciple. Not in that break into her house and steal her underwear kind of way, but in that Wow, I didn't know you were THAT fucking good kind of way. At the risk of gushing, it reminded me of seeing The Butthole Surfers for the first time. I had the records, but the show blew my doors off. There, I said it - Maria Bamford is The Butthole Surfers of comedy.

Aw Heil No!

In another pic, she has a W tattoed on one leg and a P on the other, which is super-duper top secret cracker code for white power. As this pic demonstrates, she is definitely a testament to the superiority of the white race. 

It's hard to decide who the bigger idiot is in this equation: Jesse James for cheating on his cute, talented, Oscar-winning wife; Sandra Bullock for going the "bad boy" route when she was old enough to know better; or Nazilla here because, given the opportunity, she would turn down Tiger Woods.
     

The Kids Are All Right

My brother had some kind of grunt job on the set of Life 101, and he ended up spending half his time making sure the-other-Corey was where he was supposed to be and driving him around to pick up his prescriptions. That was 16 years ago, so given the guy's habits, I guess he had an OK run.

I was never a fan of Corey Haim, or Corey Feldman, or Corey Hart, or anyone whose first name sounds like prison slang for anal-fisting. But it is sad. Not that Corey Haim is dead, but that kids are turned into celebrities in the first place. I dunno, the odds just seem to be against it working out in the long run. 

Hey, has anyone checked in on Haley Joel Osment lately? Dakota Fanning? Oh that's right, they're still young enough to handle their coke.

Personally, I haven't enjoyed a movie with kids in it since Happiness.* If you haven't seen this heart-warming tale of love in the American heartland, please do. You'll cry. Really.

Anyway, there's a new addition to the Name Your Band page, which I added in the interest of keeping Haim's contribution to the cinematic arts alive. Please check it out.

*Dear Mom: Do not, under any circumstances, watch this movie. Ever.


     

The Sports Issue!

You have to admit, February was a great month for fans of pretending to care about hockey. Our imported players ended up losing to Canada's imported players, but at least we Americans proved - just as we did with education and health care - that no one is better than we are at being second-rate.

In other sports news, Tiger Woods finally delivered his long unwanted apology for being the most successful athlete ever to have a penis. Personally, I don't feel Tiger owed me an apology at all. His sex life is no one's business but his and Nike's.

It was also the month that the New Orleans Saints won their first ever Superbowl, thus relieving the guilt of every American who didn't lift a fucking finger after Katrina. Thank you Saints! That was weighing on my mind. 

To be honest, though, this was the first Superbowl in years where I actually knew who was playing before game day. I gave up on pro sports when, in early 1984, I watched the first footage of the Colts skipping town (in the middle of the previous night) as I sprinkled sugar on my Cheerios. Oh, you mean someone can just buy your local team? OK. Fuck you then. I failed to see the point in team loyalty after that. Besides, I had just gotten my learner's permit and had more important things to worry about than football. Like vagina.

But by far the biggest story in sports this year has to be the complete failure of Team USA to advance in professional Suicide Attacking. Joe Stack's bid for American dominance ended in failure when his kamikaze dive into an Austin, Texas IRS office failed to rally the enthusiasm that Team Al-Qaida garnered with its surprise upset late in the 2001 season. Up and coming domestic terrorists, take note. Don't waste valuable training time writing long-winded, incoherent manifestos. Just do it.