tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-388979362024-03-13T09:16:43.058-04:00you are the only person not reading this blog.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.comBlogger247125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-31186321768492891912012-09-29T18:40:00.001-04:002012-09-29T18:40:43.629-04:00A profile of JesusThere's a notebook of my old blog ideas. I haven't updated it since like 2010, but I think these ideas are still totally fresh. Like this: my notes for a profile of my Good Buddy Jesu Criste.<br />
<br />
-For His 2007th birthday, He auditioned for Fear Factor. He beat everybody at water events, but He lost for refusing to eat dung beetles because He "knew the recipe."<br />
<br />
-(That was after He failed to get on Survivor twice.)<br />
<br />
-He's an active member of the Libertarian party - THE MOST active member. <br />
<br />
-He was arrested for drunk driving in 1989 on His way home from George H.W. Bush's inaugural ball. <br />
<br />
-He was one of the losers of season 3 of Top Chef. (A lot of His recent career highlights are reality tv-related.)<br />
<br />
-He has a gun.<br />
<br />
-He has a job cutting hair in a barbershop, but He has no credibility because of how He basically looks like Willie Nelson. <br />
<br />
-He loves Willie Nelson.<br />
<br />
-He also loves Hanson, and He's more than a little bit pissed that they didn't stay popular so He could sell all their CDs on eBay. <br />
<br />
-He once tried to bone Farrah Fawcett but she turned Him down. (Too soon?)<br />
<br />
-He would do just about anything for a Klondike bar. <br />
<br />
-He has never met Barack Obama, and He didn't vote for him because Obama is black. <br />
<br />
Amazing. I am AMAZING. Boo yah.<br />
Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-59914613965339636912011-05-05T09:38:00.003-04:002011-05-05T09:41:20.130-04:00In the nooze<div style="text-align: left;">The internurdz and the teevees are all abuzz with the Obama bin Landry story this week. Everyone is talking about.</div><div><br /></div><div>You know what NO ONE is talking about? <a href="http://shop.ashidashi.com/product/bacon">Bacon socks</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjOn2BGKBFrH1yICZy2TL-KUdYRhDihZ4Oi00Ikp_eo-o0_kX7DGtmSg3MEIVZyflPAOz_iu4ThDbivMSqJoSsH4G8hQFlmamtLA2o2vcT2knxfa87I-okzEF2zz7YBxCgbb0/s1600/baconsocks.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjOn2BGKBFrH1yICZy2TL-KUdYRhDihZ4Oi00Ikp_eo-o0_kX7DGtmSg3MEIVZyflPAOz_iu4ThDbivMSqJoSsH4G8hQFlmamtLA2o2vcT2knxfa87I-okzEF2zz7YBxCgbb0/s400/baconsocks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603226513676932898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px; " /></a></div><blockquote><div>Dear Jesus,</div><div><br /></div><div>Please make them all see the error of their ways and start talking about bacon socks. And if they don't, then smite them. Smite them real good.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yours in You,</div><div>Smokey</div></blockquote><div></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-32885138537297306552011-04-07T11:15:00.005-04:002011-04-07T12:09:50.610-04:00This Week in Jesus-Related Advertising<div style="text-align: left;">It seems like every other day, some quaint and cuddly, blasphemy-themed chain restaurant from New Zealand is messing with Texas. And by Texas, I mean Jesus. This time it's Hell Pizza, which is running a billboard campaign that, at first glance, only appears mouth-watering. It's only when you look a little closer that you start to see all the offensive, Jesus-related things going on here.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3PwJjMQbxpG0MbW7f098A8GNCva_ElPN7rmWM5jGfFwptmpyijlfs7T_fyr7btpy_7jRtgJKXtDOvH4DMwJhoZO_R3erDSSPZ5gTvlrEnN-KI55LhuU9aa6K8tcpf2IYjHJ8d/s400/Hell+Pizza.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592867248814851202" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 209px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div>Keep looking if it doesn't jump out at you right away, everybuzzy. It took me a few hours to figure it out, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Limited time??!?! Earth to Hell Pizza: Jesus is with us always and everywhere. And his buns, unlike yours, totally rule.</div><div><br /></div><div>Honestly, I think I'm getting quaint-and-cuddly,-blasphemy-themed-chain-restaurant-from-New-Zealand-messing-with-Texas-and-by-Texas-I-mean-Jesus fatigue. And apparently, I'm not the only one. Church peeple are getting seriously peeved about all this meanness directed at Our Lord and Savior. For realsies!</div><blockquote><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anglican Church media officer Lloyd Ashton said the campaign was disrespectful to many religions and the people who followed them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >"They [the billboards] join a long line of advertising that's in questionable taste that slings off [at] things that lots of people hold precious.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >"It's disrespectful to what a lot of people hold very dear."</span></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span">- <i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><a href="http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10717617">New Zealand Herald</a></span></i></span></div><div></div></blockquote><div>I've always been an admirer of Anglican Church media officer Lloyd Ashton's work, but I have to say, I really don't get how this campaign would be disrespectful to <i>many</i> religions. Since when is there more than one religion? I thought there was just Christianity and then 6.4 billion people who are totally wrong about everything.</div><div><br /></div>Whatever the case may be, though, it's worth pointing out that for as long as We've been Buddies, Mister Jesus has pretty much always been able to handle His own fights. I mean, no offense to Anglican Church media officer Lloyd Ashton or anything (if that's even his real name), but The Dude can walk on water and turn three fishes into enough food for like six hundred frillion peeple. Plus, He literally IS the only way to get into heaven!<div><br /></div><div>I think if Jesus's Feelings are hurt, He's probably capable of letting Hell Pizza know where they can stick their buns. In fact, I have so much faith* in Him that I'm not even going to mention the Hell Pizza thing in this letter I'm about to write to Him.</div><div></div><blockquote><div>Dear Jesus,</div><div><br /></div><div>What's up, Dude? How's It hanging these days? Things are pretty good down here, I guess. There was a weird smell in the break room the other day, but I don't think it's worth wasting a prayer on. Probably it's just a dead aminal or something. (I hope it's a unicorn!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Hey, how about those Cincinnati Reds? 5-0 to start the season, huh? I know that was totally You, and not just because Joey Votto and Drew Stubbs keep looking up at you every time they cross home plate, either.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hope You're having an awesome Thursday!</div><div><br /></div><div>Piece,</div><div>Smokey.</div></blockquote><div></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-65772781426088460812011-04-04T10:46:00.004-04:002011-04-04T11:20:45.523-04:00Beware Of UnicornsWhat you CAN see in this video are two orphaned baby bears from China playing with a tiger cub:<div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="560" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oOHp6CVNako" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>What you CAN'T see are the unicorns lurking in the shadows, fostering and nurturing this unholy alliance via their Chinese minions. It's the unicorns who are pulling the strings here, peeple. Don't be fool'd. This isn't about cute, cuddly baby aminals, this is about the beasts of the field reasserting their dominance over the human race. It's gonna be just like Middle Earth up in here, back when Sauron and Voldemort and the dinosaurs were the Head Lizards in Charge. And mankind will once again have to look to Jesus to take up the One Ring and defeat Voldemort and Sauron and the rampaging hordes once more, just like He defeated them in the popular young adult book series, <i>The Bible</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>We need Jesus now more than ever. Which of course means that old Smokey is gonna have to get involved.</div><blockquote><div>Dear Jesus,</div><div><br /></div><div>Long time no talk. Sorry, (Son of) Man. Totes my bad.</div><div><br /></div><div>Listen, I need to ask You a flavor, on behalf of humanity. Would You mind chatting with Your Dad and seeing if this tiger-bear alliance thing can be stopped in its tracks? I'm not saying kill the cute baby aminals or anystring, I'm just saying it's pretty obvious that this is unicorn handiwork, and I know those conniving bastards got left off of Noah's Ark for a reason. (Part of Your Dad's Divine Plan™, I'm guessing. Wink, wink.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Let's keep the unicorns where they belong: <a href="http://www.thinkgeek.com/caffeine/wacky-edibles/e5a7/">in cans</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks in advance, Dude. You totally rule.</div></blockquote><div></div><div><br /></div><div>Yours in You,</div><div>Smokey Robinson</div><div><br /></div><div>There. YOU'RE WELCOME AGAIN, HUMANITY.</div></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-4554289029244908692011-04-02T12:40:00.006-04:002011-04-02T15:02:56.604-04:00That's Not A Knife...<div style="text-align: left;">Remember the other good ol' daze before the movie <i>Crocodile Dundee</i> came out, when no one had ever heard of Australia before and we didn't know what a knife was? Those were the other best times.</div><div><br /></div><div>In light of the massive advances made in knife technology in the past 25 years, I think perhaps it might be time to update the franchise. Because in deference to comedic genius Paul Hogan, this really isn't a knife anymore:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK5lth9bQZ8_72nbQWulnFMZnNtX4kWp-QUJoWPrnVuL_7_btyNzD5OlYtAAjani5FQqEPcwaQ1inBb9azob8cw3Rk7x8TxpFxK27tEjSw1DyrZvYDKZUw3WBNnShN_N6_9Vb/s1600/dundee-knife.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK5lth9bQZ8_72nbQWulnFMZnNtX4kWp-QUJoWPrnVuL_7_btyNzD5OlYtAAjani5FQqEPcwaQ1inBb9azob8cw3Rk7x8TxpFxK27tEjSw1DyrZvYDKZUw3WBNnShN_N6_9Vb/s400/dundee-knife.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591059673871361538" /></a><div><br /></div><div>This, however, is:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMU_coM093PF7g-sfAQX6kinzQOmI5Y82H-Be6rTVaDva7Tge1MeT_T8f2lPdkqLODqAaPDRXNnnCR5F1IWT1FwxpsWKyAuSBwtq4vkYbleHEpaSpzMafytepvSuODRbQ65Ydo/s1600/axeknife.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMU_coM093PF7g-sfAQX6kinzQOmI5Y82H-Be6rTVaDva7Tge1MeT_T8f2lPdkqLODqAaPDRXNnnCR5F1IWT1FwxpsWKyAuSBwtq4vkYbleHEpaSpzMafytepvSuODRbQ65Ydo/s400/axeknife.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591063039373755506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 120px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.gerbergear.com/index.php/product/id/292">Axe-Knife</a>, everybuzzy. That's wassup.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's just a shame that the namby-pambies over at Gerber Legendary Blades are totally <a href="http://consumerist.com/2011/04/combination-axeknife-recalled-due-to-laceration-hazard.html">overreacting</a> to the reports of injuries caused by the knife falling out of the handle of the axe. Any axe-knife worth having is also worth a few stitches and/or missing digits. </div><div><br /></div><div>What's happening to this country? It's like everyone's balls got cut off by knives falling out of the handles of their axe-knives or something. Ugh.</div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-55850710828120039762011-03-31T16:42:00.003-04:002011-03-31T17:08:07.437-04:00The Goings-On at Fox NewsRemember the good ol' daze, when men were men, women were women, and Fox News's coverage of ill-attended, pro-conservative-agenda protest rallies was always, um... how do you say in English... padded with footage from other protests to make the rallies look more bigger?<div><div><br /></div><div>I miss those times. Those were the best times of all the times.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="240"><param name="movie" value="http://cloudfront.mediamatters.org/static/flash/pl55.swf"><param name="flashvars" value="config=http://mediamatters.org/embed/cfg3?id=200911100063"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="allownetworking" value="all"><embed src="http://cloudfront.mediamatters.org/static/flash/pl55.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="config=http://mediamatters.org/embed/cfg3?id=200911100063" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="320" height="240"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="448" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.dailykostv.com/flv/player.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="config=http://www.dailykostv.com/w/002842/vxml.php?448"><embed src="http://www.dailykostv.com/flv/player.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="284" flashvars="config=http://www.dailykostv.com/w/002842/vxml.php?448"></embed></object></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>But apparently, the era of protest-padding is over. Observe:</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="448" height="284"><param name="movie" value="http://www.dailykostv.com/flv/player.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="config=http://www.dailykostv.com/w/002860/vxml.php?448"><embed src="http://www.dailykostv.com/flv/player.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="448" height="284" flashvars="config=http://www.dailykostv.com/w/002860/vxml.php?448"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Come on, Fox News! You're blaming the weather? Whatsa matter, did your testicles call out sick today? Why don't you just man up, or grow a pair, or whatever it is that you ordinarily do before you insert falsehoods and embellishments into your protest coverage?</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Get with the program over there, peeple. We're not tuning into your channel to watch footage of a sad group of morons who skipped a day of work so they could huddle in the rain and tell everyone else how to live their lives! We're tuning in for... um... okay, gimme a second, it'll come to me...</div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-25741222500397151332011-03-31T10:34:00.003-04:002011-03-31T10:41:05.142-04:00The Re-Return of Smokey Robinson<div>Ah, spring. The season of life renewing. Or, if you work in the Canning Operations division at the Dole Fruit Plant (still unaffiliated with Dole Foods, Inc.), the season when Rebecca "The Token Jew" Goldman starts bragging about how good her son is at Tee Ball, which is pretty much the most complicated sport of all of the sports. I'm guessing that's why she named him Tiger Woods Goldman.</div><br /><div>I bet she regrets that now, though.</div><br /><div>Personally, I've never been a big fan of spring myself. I don't go to work every day in a massive, eleven-story underground fruit canning complex because I'm the outdoors-E-type. (If you're curious, I go to work every day in a massive, eleven-story underground fruit canning complex because I'm under contract to go to work every day in a massive, eleven-story underground fruit canning complex. And also, because sometimes there's free pie. Although, come to think of it, it's not very often. In fact, I think it's been about three years since the last time we had free pie, but there's still one or two slices left that look almost as fresh as they day the pie arrived in the break room.)</div><br /><div>But I'll tell you what I am a fan of: turtles eating mushrooms.</div><br /><div><object style="height: 297px; width: 480px" width="480" height="297"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LRWAFQqQY9Y?version=3"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LRWAFQqQY9Y?version=3" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="480" height="297"></embed></object></div><br /><div>Oops, wait. That's a tortoise. My bad.</div><br /><div>Welcome back to the internets, everybuzzy.</div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-13748883572730615732010-09-19T20:49:00.003-04:002010-09-19T20:54:07.293-04:00What an Outrageous Waste!!!!!!Has anyone else seen this Coors Light commercial where they launch a giant, rocket-shaped bottle into space? What the hell sort of world is this? Why is this a worthwhile expenditure of time and efforts when there are diseases in the world that need curing??! <div><br /></div><div>And did you know that every hour, 36 homeless children learn that they have cancer? Or that there is a new line of Ford axles that make your car extra- extra-tuff?</div><div><br /></div><div>I can honestly not remember the last time my liberal morals were subject to such outrage as this evening's NFL telecast on NBC. I feel like writing someone a letter and voting for the Green Party. </div><div><br /></div><div>RIGHT AFTER I GO TO CHILI'S FOR THE $20 DINNER FOR TWO!</div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-13815765727055746272010-09-07T11:27:00.003-04:002010-09-07T12:14:29.109-04:00Bananaphone Down!Usually, getting my attention during the morning commute to the Dole Fruit Plant (still not affiliated with Dole Food Company, in spite of some serious efforts on the part of Plant management) is the province of peeple with fashion sense that is SO NOT FASHION as to endanger the eyes of both me and my fellow subway riders. Someone has to stand up for the little guy and tell those peeple just how NOT FASHION they are.<div><br /></div><div>But not today.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today's subway crisis began, simply enough, with a traditional male-female couple that boarded the A train at 175th Street. I didn't look at their faces, I just got a sense of them as the woman sat down next to me in the middle seat of a bank of three, and her dude stood in front of her holding onto the railing. Somewhere just before 168th Street, he reached into some pocket or pouch and handed her a banana, which I presume she ate. We were between 145th and 125th Streets when I noticed her out of the corner of my eye brandishing the limp, empty banana peel at him. The two of them then had the following exchange:</div><div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>Girl: My bananaphone isn't working.</div><div>Guy: What?</div><div>Girl: My bananaphone isn't working. It collapsed.</div><div>Guy: It has no dial tone.</div><div>Girl: It's not working.</div><div>Guy: Mine is ringing.</div><div>Girl: Brrring! Brring!</div><div>Guy: Hahaha.</div><div>Girl: Hello? It's still not working.</div><div></div></blockquote><div><br /></div><div>She ended up tucking the collapsed bananaphone into his belt or a strap on his backpack somewhere in the 70s or 80s, and when we pulled into 59th Street, she got up and walked past him with what appeared to be little more than a friendly tap on his shoulder. </div><div><br /></div><div>By then, I was already blaming Barack Obama. This is what happens when an Orwellian socialist Muslim takes over the USA: people become so afraid of the government and public services that they literally let their bananaphones go to waste, or even stupidly attempt self-repair, instead calling up the bananaphone company and getting the help they require. This, in turn, leads to the bananaphone companies not having enough work to merit paying full salaries, which then puts all kinds of talented, qualified bananaphone operators and technicians out of work when the companies outsource their jobs to China and the Philippines and Peru and stuff.</div><div><br /></div><div>This country is the worst.</div></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-68818020116664327312010-06-22T10:06:00.005-04:002010-09-07T11:24:49.980-04:00The Retirement of Amanda Bynes: Day 2It's still hard to believe it's over, that she's gone and she won't ever come back. I really thought I had enough to deal with this week, what with the BP Oil Spill hitting the two-month mark and the death of sausage legend Jimmy Dean. But no more Bynes? <div><br /></div><div>In the immortal words of the intranetz, "fffffffuuuuuuuuuuuu." And also, "lolcats."</div><div><br /></div><div>This is what you're missing, world.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="480" height="289"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_r9m0MjnTJE&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_r9m0MjnTJE&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xd0d0d0&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="480" height="289"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>It's what we're all missing.</div><div><br /></div><div></div><blockquote><div>Dear Jesus,</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't do this, man. Give us back our Amanda Bynes. Give us that Bynes!</div><div><br /></div><div>Love and pickles,</div><div>Smokey.</div></blockquote><div></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-30770743661558685802010-06-02T13:38:00.005-04:002010-06-02T14:07:16.088-04:00How to Fix the Oil SpillThe peeple at BP (hereinafter, "Beeple") are obviously retarded. They're going to fix a leaking oil well with a junk shot? Or a top kill? Or relief wells? Are these <i>really </i>the best ideas those Beeple could come up with to plug the hole?<div><br /></div><div>Earth to Beeple: everyone knows that natural disasters are caused by zombies. So obviously, the solution this problem is brains. Duh, beeple. Or as a zombie would say, "brains."</div><div><br /></div><div>Chuckle chuckle chuckle vurp. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you wanna get serious, the solution to this problem is Jack Shephard from LOST. If anyone knows how to put a cork in a hole that's leaking poison into the world, it's that guy.</div><br /><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfplwRjBGbhtz6u8ARolEE430CWQPaKcBJiPNfDzuGU6_P6Kmp7HhPNIEX0CR3p7LNSrys5VKH9Zxyi0JY2abxvjbQDQAtUKORqB2b34HdF2vNHHYSiD0hBui3ZJsjq6ZxmRP0/s400/Lost-Cork.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 223px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478235746784953042" /></div><div><br /></div><div>And look how happy it makes him!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUqhDognBE1V-_C1YQUUSxTvfamOJaFzo6cFX25EIBoSlxnthcrgy1D6lxB4adrj2nY1jwI0HuZHIDvhfzQzRTL0ruBkEiBCpjr1Xib2UTjYGzqiWxb-xrvH1F9Q3Nh8Oo8Q0/s1600/Lost-Jack+Light.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 223px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUqhDognBE1V-_C1YQUUSxTvfamOJaFzo6cFX25EIBoSlxnthcrgy1D6lxB4adrj2nY1jwI0HuZHIDvhfzQzRTL0ruBkEiBCpjr1Xib2UTjYGzqiWxb-xrvH1F9Q3Nh8Oo8Q0/s400/Lost-Jack+Light.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478235754014152594" /></a><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Thanks be to </span><a href="http://videogum.com/184161/lost-s06e18-series-finale/tv/recaps/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">videogum</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> for the pics.)</span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;">Dear Teh Obama,</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Forget about Jack Bauer. His show got canceled anywhoop. CALL JACK SHEPHARD. He's on an island somewhere.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Also, brains.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Brains,</div><div style="text-align: left;">Smokey</div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-10640225970041501022010-05-06T18:45:00.002-04:002010-05-06T19:18:20.045-04:00Because We Are Nashville?<div><p class="MsoNormal"></p></div><blockquote><div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A large part of the reason that we are being ignored is because of who we are. Think about that for just a second. Did you hear about looting? Did you hear about crime sprees? No…you didn’t. You heard about people pulling their neighbors off of rooftops. You saw a group of people trying to move two horses to higher ground. No…we didn’t loot. Our biggest warning was, “Don’t play in the floodwater.” When you think about it…that speaks a lot for our city. A large portion of why we were being ignored was that we weren’t doing anything to draw attention to ourselves. We were handling it on our own.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some will be quick to find fault in the way rescue operations were handled, but the fact of the matter is that the catastrophe could not have been prevented and it is simply ignorant beyond all reason to suggest otherwise. It is a flood. It was caused by rain. You can try to find a face to stick this tragedy to, but you’ll be wrong.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Parts of Nashville that could never even conceivably be underwater were underwater. Some of them still are. Opry Mills and the Opryland Hotel are, for all intents and purposes, destroyed. People died sitting in standstill traffic on the Interstate. We saw boats going down West End. And, of course, we all saw the surreal image of the portable building from Lighthouse Christian floating into traffic and being destroyed when cars were knocked into it. I’m still having trouble comprehending all of it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And yet…life will go on. We’ll go back to work, to school, to our lives…and we’ll carry on. In a little over a month, I’ll be on this website talking about the draft. In October, we’ll be discussing the new Predators’ season with nary a thought of these past few days. But in a way, they changed everyone in this town. We now know that that it can happen to us…but also know that we can handle it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Because we are Nashville.</span></p></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>-by Patton Fuqua</i></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>taken from </i></span><a href="http://www.section303.com/we-are-nashville-4366"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>here</i></span></a></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://www.section303.com/we-are-nashville-4366"></a></div><div>First of all, and I say this as (no joke) a die-hard Nashville Predators fan, what the fuck? You know why no one is paying attention to Nashville? It's because it's Nashville. </div><div><br /></div><div>You know why people paid attention to New Orleans? Because a) our thankfully now ex-president double-booked himself with both "crisis management" and "press conference in which I will break my arm patting the FEMA director on the back for his insanely grate crisis management skillz" during the exact same 45 minutes, and b) because IT'S NEW ORLEANS. IT'S FREAKING AWESOME.</div><div><br /></div><div>(I have an expanded theory on the Bush double-booking incident that involves Dick Cheney conjuring up Hurricane Katrina in a cauldron in the White House Dungeon, cackling all the way, and then popping upstairs and telling Georgie W. to go ahead to the press conference and he would totally take care of everything. A sinister grin slowly spreads across Cheney's face, he snickers evilly to himself, and as the unsuspecting prezident skips out to the Rose Garden, Cheney's snicker crescendoes into a maniacal laugh, and lightning surges in the window behind him. That dude was a villain with a robot heart.)</div><div><br /></div><div>New Orleans rules. They have Pat O'Brien's. They have crawfish and po'boys (and po'men and po'women too, ba dum bum!), there are streetcars and awesome Creole restaurants. There's Bourbon Street, for crying out loud! Anyone in their right mind in Nashville would have to concede that the most awesomest street in Nashville wasn't anywhere nearly as awesomest as Bourbon Street. (Which of course would beg the question, "what the hell am I still doing in Nashville?")</div><div><br /></div><div>When was the last time you heard someone talk about the amazing meal they just had at one of the best seafood restaurants in <i>Nashville</i>? Or about how they went on Spring Break there? Do they even HAVE Spring Break in Nashville? Is it like Bible study and country music at the Grand Ol' Opry for a week?</div><div><br /></div><div>Nashville, I'm sorry, but you're basically the New Jersey of the South. And New Jersey, I'm even sorrier to associate you with anything as bland and dull as the home of country mus-blichh. You know the ol' Smoke Monster loves you, Miss Jurzie. </div><div><br /></div><div>But honestly, no one would care if either one of you got looted.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which, by the way, Nashville, you did. <a href="http://nashvillecitypaper.com/content/2010-flood/crime-police-respond-26-looting-calls-two-arrests-made">Ahem</a>.</div><div><div><div><br /></div></div></div><div>But will the Nashville looting get as much attention as the head-up-your-ass, holier-than-thou, look-how-God-DIDN'T-rain-fire-on-Dollywood superiority complex on steroids that Patton Fuqua vomited up? No way, man. Because they're Nashville.</div>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-75935427711513467362010-04-08T11:10:00.006-04:002010-04-08T16:33:31.843-04:00Virginia Is For Losers!<div><br /></div><div>If there's one thing that everyone in America agrees on, it's that we all love a loser. That probably explains why the Boston Red Sux have lost so many fans since they won the Whirled Series in 2004, and why nobody likes black people ever since we elected Tracy Morgan (or whatever her name is) to be our first black president in 2008.</div><div><br /></div><div>Because let's face it, everybuzzy, what is there to love about the Red Sux or black people if they're not losers anymore?</div><div><br /></div><div>Fortunately, the great Commonwealth of Virginia has given us something else to love: namely, the great Commonwealth of Virginia, which has gone beyond the call of duty to remind the world what humongous losers they are.</div><div><br /></div><div>To wit, the following proclamation:</div><div><br /></div><div><div></div><blockquote><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, April is the month in which the people of Virginia joined the Confederate States of America in a four year war between the states for independence that concluded at Appomattox Courthouse; and</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, Virginia has long recognized her Confederate history, the numerous civil war battlefields that mark every region of the state, the leaders and individuals in the Army, Navy and at home who fought for their homes and communities and Commonwealth in a time very different than ours today; and</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, it is important for all Virginians to reflect upon our Commonwealth’s shared history, to understand the sacrifices of the Confederate leaders, soldiers and citizens during the period of the Civil War, and to recognize how our history has led to our present; and</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, Confederate historical sites such as the White House of the Confederacy are open for people to visit in Richmond today; and</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, all Virginians can appreciate the fact that when ultimately overwhelmed by the insurmountable numbers and resources of the Union Army, the surviving, imprisoned and injured Confederate soldiers gave their word and allegiance to the United States of America, and returned to their homes and families to rebuild their communities in peace, following the instruction of General Robert E. Lee of Virginia, who wrote that, “...all should unite in honest efforts to obliterate the effects of war and to restore the blessings of peace."; and</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">WHEREAS, this defining chapter in Virginia’s history should not be forgotten, but instead should be studied, understood and remembered by all Virginians, both in the context of the time in which it took place, but also in the context of the time in which we live, and this study and remembrance takes on particular importance as the Commonwealth prepares to welcome the nation and the world to visit Virginia for the Sesquicentennial Anniversary of the Civil War, a four-year period in which the exploration of our history can benefit all;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">NOW, THEREFORE, I, Robert McDonnell, do hereby recognize April 2010 as CONFEDERATE HISTORY MONTH in our COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA, and I call this observance to the attention of all our citizens.</span></div></blockquote><div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>If you're wondering who Robert McDonnell is, he's the governor of Virginia. And if you're wondering who Virginia is, it was one of the many Southern states that LOST THE CIVIL WAR.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E_nNsvo9ebar22-O4fa_PLXNSJvBGdNhZJyTX334ZWNMnMxPrjfVPXfe-YGiuIIGoxCv_7ihPvx9ucOufHmRzH_05I8pl84f3SmyO43qD64ZjzAwZRtohfQDPVMbYGUuZuWa/s1600/CW-winnerlosermap.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4E_nNsvo9ebar22-O4fa_PLXNSJvBGdNhZJyTX334ZWNMnMxPrjfVPXfe-YGiuIIGoxCv_7ihPvx9ucOufHmRzH_05I8pl84f3SmyO43qD64ZjzAwZRtohfQDPVMbYGUuZuWa/s400/CW-winnerlosermap.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457867041830982354" /></a><div>I think we all everybuzzy owe Governor Ronald McDonald a great big thank you for resurrecting the memory of Confederate history during these turbulent political times, as talk of insurgency and rebellion against the lawfully established United States government are once again becoming fashionable. It's helpful to look back and reminisce about those glory days of yestercentury when the mighty Union army crushed the pitiful southern rebellion, thus proving that THE CONFEDERACY WAS A BUNCH OF COMPLETE AND TOTAL LOSERS.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, Governor McDoodle is a white male, which means he has very little experience being a loser - although he is a member of the Republican Party. (A zing! About teh politix! Ouch!)</div><div><br /></div><div>To McDiggle's credit, he's certainly making a valiant attempt to establish his LOSER credentials. Public proclamations about his Commonwealth's role in helping the South lose the Civil War are a very good start. Next thing you know, he'll issue a statement reminding all of us how strongly he supported insurance companies' right to deny sick people health insurance - another victory for the North! (And another zing for Smokey!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Conveniently (is conveniently the right word?), Governor McDweeble's Confederate History Month proclamation neglected to mention anything about that whole people-owning-people thing. But that's not really his fault. After all, when you lose as miserably, and on as many fronts as the South did when THEY LOST THE CIVIL WAR, it gets hard to keep all the details straight of how badly you got beaten.</div><div><br /></div><div>McDurgle defended the omission with the rationale that "there were any number of aspects to that conflict between the states. Obviously, it involved slavery. It involved other issues. But I focused on the ones I thought were most significant for Virginia."</div><div><br /></div><div>You have to appreciate when a white man takes a stand on principle, even if that principle is racism.</div><div><br /></div><div>But after hearing his stance decried by just about every single person with even the faintest sense of decency, Governor McDribble did what southerners do best: <a href="http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2010/4/7/855133/-Bob-McDonnell-now-realizes-that-maybe-slavery-was-significant?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+dailykos/index+(Daily+Kos)">HE BACKED DOWN</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's why we here at the blog love Governor McDipple - he's a loser, through and through. And since he already works in the former capital city of the Confederacy, he should feel right at home.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpB2VYQcsYJoQIzZmp5jFRlOtsG6YeJ9vLQcaigKuOc4EFc-fEZZ5EEhdBYt-soGlTGCPKLXxjpYwu5ZSk_6TxXlR_5FSqF4Fy4Rdg9c0OznIiK5Ciub9-5byDWCSpnXtYulK/s1600/OldMcDonnell.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 322px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpB2VYQcsYJoQIzZmp5jFRlOtsG6YeJ9vLQcaigKuOc4EFc-fEZZ5EEhdBYt-soGlTGCPKLXxjpYwu5ZSk_6TxXlR_5FSqF4Fy4Rdg9c0OznIiK5Ciub9-5byDWCSpnXtYulK/s400/OldMcDonnell.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457865997901947186" /></a>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-13742644959074011342010-03-11T14:03:00.003-05:002010-03-11T14:24:04.791-05:00The Pillow Bride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRUaisZwzZ5pRIfeb_t1G37ehDGN0tOchEy8EhH9s9-oP_WavEONo3g9nmm0a1-5Ez3fcgHOLz1OZuMr9CqL23huOY39oZ7ls8nMkgyvqORmTEFg_9GDEJrBbJR5F_nwNB5lY/s1600-h/PillowBride.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRUaisZwzZ5pRIfeb_t1G37ehDGN0tOchEy8EhH9s9-oP_WavEONo3g9nmm0a1-5Ez3fcgHOLz1OZuMr9CqL23huOY39oZ7ls8nMkgyvqORmTEFg_9GDEJrBbJR5F_nwNB5lY/s400/PillowBride.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447454989758939266" border="0" /></a><p></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-size:85%;">Lee Jin-gyu fell for his 'dakimakura' - a kind of large, huggable pillow from Japan, often with a picture of a popular anime character printed on the side.<br /></span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">In Lee's case, his beloved pillow has an image of Fate Testarossa, from the 'magical girl' anime series <span id="intelliTXT"> <em>Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha.</em> </span><span id="intelliTXT"></span><br /><br />Now the 28-year-old otaku (a Japanese term that roughly translates to somewhere between 'obsessive' and 'nerd') has wed the pillow in a special ceremony, after fitting it out with a wedding dress for the service in front of a local priest. Their nuptials were eagerly chronicled by the local media.<br /> <br />'He is completely obsessed with this pillow and takes it everywhere,' said one friend.<br /> <br />'They go out to the park or the funfair where it will go on all the rides with him. Then when he goes out to eat he takes it with him and it gets its own seat and its own meal,' they added.</span> </p><p><span style="font-size:85%;">The pillow marriage is not the first similarly-themed unusual marriage in recent times - it comes after a Japanese otaku married his virtual girlfriend <span id="intelliTXT">Nene Anegasaki, a character who only exists in the Nintendo DS game Love Plus, last November.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.metro.co.uk/weird/816601-man-marries-pillow"><span style="font-style: italic;">from Metro.co.uk</span><br /></a><span id="intelliTXT"></span></span></p></blockquote>Dear Dad,<br /><br />I know what I disappointment I am to you. I know how much you hoped that by now, I would have worked my way to a respectable career, or at least moved out of the basement. But I need you to start accepting the choices I've made. I don't think that's too much to ask. A man has to follow his heart and his dreams, or else he ends up nowhere. You told me that once, and I have lived my life by that advice even when you refused to support me in the past, like the time I went on the all Kool-Aid diet for three weeks and ended up giving myself diabetes. I followed your advice then, and I'm following that same advice now too, and so I have some news to share with you: I married Liz.<br /><br />I know the two of you haven't always gotten along in the past, and I know you don't particularly trust her. She confessed to me about all the times she tried to force herself on you, but she's really sorry about all of them, and she promised they won't happen again. It's water under the rug at this point as far as I'm concerned. I hope you can believe that too, and I hope you can find it in your heart to support this marriage, because it's what both of us really want.<br /><br />Liz is so much like you, Dad: willful and headstrong; sassy and overbearing; deathly afraid of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. You even have the same bizarre fetish for Costa Rican men who wear socks with sandals. I wish you could see that. I wish you could take the time to bond with her, to get to know her, and to forgive her for using all of your spoons to freebase cocaine with her friends in the backyard. She's such a good person, and she has such a kind and generous soul, and such a soft, cottony exterior too. I really wish you could open yourself to those parts of her, and not just focus on the questionable things. We all have our demons, after all. (Remember that time you got arrested for trying to rob a McDonald's?)<br /><br />It's funny, we were talking on the bus this morning on our way to City Hall, and she actually mentioned how much the two of you have in common. I wonder if maybe that's what you dislike about her? It's a perfectly natural thing for a boy to want to marry a girl who is just like his father, but if you need time to acknowledge and accept that, I understand.<br /><br />There's something else too. Liz told me what you said to her about how she could do better than to get stuck with a guy like me. I know when you said that, you were looking out for my best interests, and trying to make sure I didn't get hurt, and I love you for that. She's a really beautiful girl, and I know what a shameless flirt she is, and how much attention she gets when we're out at the park or the funfair. A lot of men (and women too) make comments to her like, "hey, why don't you ditch this guy who is somewhere between 'obsessive' and 'nerd' and come home with me?" I must hear that upwards of sixteen or twenty times every weekend. But she loves me, and I love her, and I promise I can handle it. You don't have to worry about me getting hurt. I may always be your little boy, but I'm married now. We know what we're doing, and both of us went into this with our eyes wide open. I promise, no matter what happens, I'll be okay. (Unless she leaves me, in which case I'll most likely kill myself.)<br /><br />We're going to the arcade now to play video games until I run out of my allowance, but I just want you to know that I love you, I'll be home by 7, and I would really appreciate it if you could buy us a package of gummi bears and some Cherry Kool-Aid to celebrate our good news. Liz is really excited to have you as a part of her life and her family now, so I hope you can be equally welcoming to her.<br /><br />I love you more than I love Ryan Seacrest, Dad. I really mean that.<br /><br />Your son,<br />Lee Jing-yu<br /><br />P.S. Liz asked if she could call you "daddy" from now on, but she said she only meant it in a purely sexual way. Isn't that cute?Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-28047750747751831222010-02-23T12:20:00.007-05:002010-02-23T13:05:48.608-05:00The Search for a Missing BonerI think we can all agree that when a man who delighted millions with his science fiction portrayal of a Cold War-era Russian stereotype living on a spaceship commanded by a dude from Iowa begets another man who delights millions with <span style="font-style: italic;">his</span> portrayal of a Spiccoli-esque D+ high school student on Long Island in a seminal '80s sitcom, and the second man goes missing in Vancouver on Valentine's Day, then we as a culture have really let ourselves down.<br /><br />Thankfully, that has never happened.<br /><br />No, I'm just kidding, <a href="http://gawker.com/5476960/depressed-growing-pains-star-andrew-koenig-vanishes-in-vancouver">it totally has</a>. Where have you disappeared to, Andrew Koenig? Alyssa Milano is sick with worry. As are a surprising amount of people on the facebag.<br /><br />Frankly, I say all those people are hypocrites. Why is it only when Dustin Diamond is getting airbrushed out of "Saved By the Bell" cast photos, or when the miniature black kid who played Willis's younger brother on "Diff'rent Strokes" is getting arrested in Utah, or when the dude who played Boner on "Growing Pains" goes missing in Vancouver that we, as a society, wake up and take notice? Maybe if any of us (meaning all of you who are the only ones not reading this blog) had bothered to check in with Boner Koenig <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> he disappeared, then none of this would have happened. We (again, I mean you) have nobody but (y)ourselves to blame.<br /><br />But here's what I really don't understand: he went missing in Vancouver during the Olympics? How this is possible, Kiptin? Vancouver is covered all over in cameras! (Side note: how much better would that sentence have been if it was "Vancouver is covered all over in clover?") Anybody thought of checking all that HD footage of everything except hockey to see if Boenig is visible in the crowd? 'Cause tell me a guy with this hairstyle wouldn't stand out, even in a crowd of weirdo figure skating fans:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXikQSHAJq4juWXFMMTrMpyZspH2EA5cMK6IiD57Yn5xEHZQos_vPJfrJs1wC6tY7S-P4EXPBpJbjTLponu8rbQ8CutfIvp4I-nNrG2ahNE7Ol6dbGX0vMDBrXvSbFxsObxgb8/s1600-h/boner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 160px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXikQSHAJq4juWXFMMTrMpyZspH2EA5cMK6IiD57Yn5xEHZQos_vPJfrJs1wC6tY7S-P4EXPBpJbjTLponu8rbQ8CutfIvp4I-nNrG2ahNE7Ol6dbGX0vMDBrXvSbFxsObxgb8/s400/boner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441498218859443650" border="0" /></a><br />You picked the wrong part of the world to go missing in, Boenig. We're gonna find you, and then as soon as we know you're okay, we're gonna go right back to forgetting about you, just like we forgot about Boner after he left "Growing Pains" for the army. I guess we'll be seeing you in Sochi in 2014...Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-90570339215116890502010-02-18T16:13:00.000-05:002010-02-18T16:14:15.473-05:00What We Know About the FutureIt is a well documented fact that Jesus's first act after graduating from Hogwarts, changing his name to Santa Claus, and moving to North Pole, Alaska was to start the original Frozen Olympics right here in the good old U. S. of A. Here we are 4,000 years later, and the FroLympics have moved to the icy wasteland of Vancouver, Canada, all because of stupid Al Gore, who just had to come along and invent global warming, didn't he? Why couldn't that jerk have been born in Antarctica? That place is freezing! (At least, until he gets his grubby, climate-changey hands on it...)<br /><br />But as upsetting as that is, that's all in the past now. And the FroLympics, in spite of the fact that NBC's coverage is pretty heavily grounded in the present (and that the coverage itself is tape-delayed), are all about the future. News flash, everybuzzy: the future is very gay, and very Canadian.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6VSNhJq1vc-hN0Ot43D5xxCitXdlqjYZac4xEzsfNBGU1Yx1AJDWjYozNtg2BKni4Pw7bOl8VK3CHnOZd-EMMMjkj45t0CFJAqzhWBt5-QAuLFg1j4LxVJqKOv7iwDm4gwix/s1600-h/Adam+Rippon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6VSNhJq1vc-hN0Ot43D5xxCitXdlqjYZac4xEzsfNBGU1Yx1AJDWjYozNtg2BKni4Pw7bOl8VK3CHnOZd-EMMMjkj45t0CFJAqzhWBt5-QAuLFg1j4LxVJqKOv7iwDm4gwix/s400/Adam+Rippon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439688591129739394" border="0" /></a>Meet Adam Rippon (also known as "Laser Batman"). At this year's U.S. men's figure skating championships (or, "Homopallooza"), Laser Batman was touted by none other than Scott "I'm At Least As Gay As Boitano" Hamilton as the future of American men's figure skating. Sadly, Laser Batman didn't qualify to represent America in the FroLympics this year, because the future of American figure skating is evidently only the fifth or sixth best skater in the country. If I were Laser Batman's parents, I would pretty much stop loving him for that.<br /><br />I don't think Laser Batman is even a third as gay as Johnny Weird (or whatever his name is) either, which is pretty shocking considering just how gay Laser Batman is. How gay is he? Let's put it this way: Laser Batman is gayer than Adam Lambert and Albus Dumbledore and boys who read <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight </span>combined! But Johnny Weird has a show on the Sundance Channel, meaning that Laser Batman's only real chance to out-gay him is to land a multi-season deal with Bravo.<br /><br />Something to shoot for if you ever want your parents to love you again, Laser Batman.<br /><br />The future is far less bleak in Canada, however, not just because they have the FroLympics and no global warming, but because of Marianne St-Gelais, who actually managed to win a silver medal in women's 500-meter short track speed skating yesterday, on her 20th birthday - a performance that far outdistances Laser Batman in terms of competitive success, but falls miles short in homo-sin-uality. Here's a picture of Marianne St-Gelais at a competition last October, and you can tell just by looking how gay she ISN'T:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXlSTyASea_1pMdVNCMIz8jIoAoP72NCapCWt7NXJCIiKuWQSEFARhlBhhs63eFdUi6IkhMkDkoDWG8_f09ZKUkO-Pj94I_-Qv-6Ydk0y-sRVkQBFXiRZrZtxhBkes3Ng5Vuq/s1600-h/Marianne+St-Gelais.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNXlSTyASea_1pMdVNCMIz8jIoAoP72NCapCWt7NXJCIiKuWQSEFARhlBhhs63eFdUi6IkhMkDkoDWG8_f09ZKUkO-Pj94I_-Qv-6Ydk0y-sRVkQBFXiRZrZtxhBkes3Ng5Vuq/s400/Marianne+St-Gelais.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439688591831304274" border="0" /></a><br />My guess is that Laser Batman watched her victory at home yesterday, consoling himself with a pastel-colored cocktail while taking refuge in the arms of some big, burly-chested lumberjack who thinks he's actually a girl. There could the makings of Laser Batman's Bravo show based on that relationship, but for the life of me, I would NEVER EVER WATCH THAT EVER.<br /><br />If you're concerned about the lack of silver and gold in America's future, however, there is a lawmaker in South Carolina who might have you covered.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcMJgFA2ZtUvgIV6Y34h4p6MLsaLhUKhQ8gNHe6YhJCg2x8h_91soMPwsWQ6tRGIYcgxNJEeXNi_imPf92KHupFyQJVDhLBVOVrOQYxdFbCkJsdDQJBh-lZOgxMPByFVs3C17/s1600-h/Mike+RetardedPitts.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 256px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEcMJgFA2ZtUvgIV6Y34h4p6MLsaLhUKhQ8gNHe6YhJCg2x8h_91soMPwsWQ6tRGIYcgxNJEeXNi_imPf92KHupFyQJVDhLBVOVrOQYxdFbCkJsdDQJBh-lZOgxMPByFVs3C17/s400/Mike+RetardedPitts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439688901988509714" border="0" /></a>Meet Mike Pitts, a retired police officer turned State Representative with an idea so crazy that it just might work. Pitts is ready to <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/blogs/2010/02/17/politics/politicalhotsheet/entry6217403.shtml">turn back the clock on financial sanity</a> with a bill that would outlaw money - or, as Pitts refers to it, "paper with ink on it." Pitts uses words like "collapse" (the verb, not the noun) and "collapsing" and "collapse" (the noun this time) to describe the potential dangers to the U.S. economy if we keep trying to use money to pay for goods and services. His wise and researched alternative: load up your pockets with precious metals, like gold and silver - commodities whose fluctuating values could leave you feeling like you just won (or lost) the lottery every day!<br /><br />I think Pitts is onto something here. Because we may never be able to bring snow or winter or the FroLympics back to America, but if Pitts has his way, at least we'll have gold and silver (assuming we don't get robbed by people who aren't weighted down by pockets full of gold and silver, that is). And I know from my long correspondence with Him that that is exactly what Jesus Claus would have wanted - that, and for Laser Batman to get that show on Bravo.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-15713702696718549492010-02-10T15:40:00.000-05:002010-02-10T15:55:29.513-05:00I'm-a back!Well, that was easy!<br /><br />It turns out that all I had to do to get resurrected was agree to appear at jury duty. Naturally, I assumed jury duty would be like Purgatory, where people sit around bored all day, waiting to get called into small rooms with lawyers. But real jury duty is actually SO MUCH BETTER THAN THAT.<br /><br />The first person who came to speak with us Monday morning was a wizard, as in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Class of '88 - that kind of wizard. Of course, he didn't do any majick tricks - he was just there to tell us how to fill out our jury questionnaires. But he did sign majick autographs afterward: his name morphs into the great seal of the state of New York, and back again! That alone was worth the price of admission.<br /><br />Speaking of which, was jury duty always that expensive to get into? $70, and I didn't even get a good seat. If that happened at a Knicks game, I'd be pretty mad. (Although unlike jury duty, a Knicks game is an unbelievably boring place to spend two days.)<br /><br />Anyway, jury duty was great. I'm still full from the hummus and vegetable platters. But now that I've been dead for like a month, I have an absolute shit-ton of paperwork to take care of. Not to mention the many issues I keep having with my reassembled body, but I really don't think this is the forum to talk about those things. Does anyone know a good doctor who specializes in zombies and/or reanimated tissue, though? I'm thinking whoever works on Joan Rivers would probably be good.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-23938783866369997602010-02-01T10:26:00.004-05:002010-02-01T11:33:00.195-05:00Hello from BeyondHey, everybuzzy. Please forgive me for the frowny-facedness of this here blurg post here, but the thing is that I, Smokey Robinson, am now dead.<br /><br />I'm kind of ashamed to admit it. It's not the kind of thing you proudly show up at home one day and you're like, "hey, guys, guess what? I'm dead! Hello? Guys?" It's mostly like in the movies, where you're either a zombie and some "vigilante hero" is trying to hack you to bits with a chainsaw, or else you're invisible and inaudible to everybuzzy who isn't Whoopi Goldberg (who, by the by, makes really amazing oatmeal raisin cookies.)<br /><br />The actual dying part is kind of a gruesome story. I was sitting in the Cannery one day at Dole Fruit, reading <span style="font-style: italic;">The Loving Bones</span>, which is this book by Alex Sebold about a teenage kid who is actually dead for the entire book, which they tell you on page 1 without even writing SPOILER ALERT. (Speaking of which, spoiler alert: I die at the end of this paragraph. See how easy it is?) Anyway, Rebecca Goodman (our token Jew) must have overheard me saying "I wish <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> could know what it was like to be dead," because when I stood up, my shoelaces had been tied together, but in a very Jewish way. Next thing I knew, I fell over the railing and then tumbled ass-over-elbows into a very inconveniently placed pineapple slicer.<br /><br />Those pineapple slicers are a real bitch to clean, especially when the guy who regularly cleans them is beginning to ooze out of one of them. Rex "The Supervisor" Hymen kept yelling and yelling, "Smokey! Where the [censored] is Smokey [censored] Robinson, god[censored]?!" I would gladly have told him where I was, except that one of my lips was, at that very moment, about to drip onto his right shoe. Also, the living can't hear the dead without the aid of the aforementioned Ms. Goldberg. But at the time, I didn't know that.<br /><br />Anyway, hi!<br /><br />This whole dead thing really isn't that bad. Did you know that in heaven, Bill Clinton is still president, and the Democrats enjoy sizeable majorities in both the House and Senate? And that ALL the bears are named Lollipop the Bear and drive around on Vespa Scooters with skull-and-crossbone stickers and holsters for their AK-47s? Also, the only meal is Kraft Cheese and Macaroni too, because it's the cheesiest. This place is gratest. It really is!<br /><br />(Psych! It isn't really. This place is the worst - not "the wurst," like a hot dog, which would really go great with all the mac-and-cheese, but the WORST, as in the most miserable place I've ever been. Every time someone calls up Dole to complain about finding one of my eyeballs or a tooth or a fingernail fragment, I have to sit there while Patrick Swayze and the guy who originally played Dumbledore laugh at me for like three hours, which feels like eternity. Also, it takes like four minutes to press a single key. I have been writing this blog post since December 30!)<br /><br />By the way, I was wrong: there is a God. He wears a turban and He doesn't speak English, so nobody up here understands what He's saying, and most people think He's a Terrorist. He is also in no way affiliated with My Buddy (and Friend of the blog) Jesus Christ. God is actually the Assistant Night Manager at a convenience store called Seventh Heaven, which is supposed to be a clever reference to "Seven Eleven," but nobody gets that without having it explained to them. Some say He really is all-powerful. I say He pours a mean cherry Icee - easily the third-best I've ever tasted.<br /><br />Anyway.<br /><br />I recently met Dan Fogelberg, who was quite touched by the flattering obituary I wrote him. We were sipping cherry Icees around Christmas with Carol Channing, and the two of them told me that there's actually a way for me to come back. Are you ready to learn what it is? All that has to happen is that a single cell from my former body has to be ingested by a human male, get metabolized, undergo meiosis, get broken down into amino acids (they're the building blocks of protein!), and finally, be converted into a sperm cell. Assuming I don't then end up in a sock or a drainpipe, it's a simple matter of racing the other sperm cells to an egg cell, become a zygote, then an embryo, then a fetus, then get born in Detroit, have a successful career as an R&B singer, and move to New York City at 68 years old to work for a middling fruit concern.<br /><br />Piece of cake.<br /><br />So here's what I need from you, dear readers: eat Dole Fruit Factory brand pineapple.<br /><br />I'm sure the slicer where I met my end was probably very thoroughly scrubbed before the next batch of pineapple went in. Dole Fruit Factory has very exacting standards of hygiene, after all. But even the most exacting standards must have left a cell or two of mine behind, right? (Don't think about that too long, or else you won't want to eat the pineapple anymore.) Presto. We're halfway home already.<br /><br />This, obviously, only applies to my male readers. Ladies, for once, this isn't about you. (Until I get back to the top of the charts, that is!) Let's get eatin', dudes! We're just 70 short years from being able to start this whole bloggerizing operation up again!<br /><br />And just to be on the safe side:<br /><blockquote>Dear Jesus,<br /><br />A little halp, (Son of) Man?<br /><br />Thanx,<br />Smokey<br /><br />P.S. Can You catch me up on what I missed on YouTube?<br /></blockquote>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-80335275240879128832009-12-03T00:52:00.005-05:002009-12-03T01:41:45.590-05:00Tuff Times for Us AllHi, everybuzzy. Please forgive the unpleasant greeting, but I'm so mad I could eat Pop Rocks and not share them. Jesus isn't returning my emails these days.<br /><br />And I think I know exactly who is to blame for that.<br /><br />No, not Barack Obama. For once, this appears to have nothing to do with Him.<br /><br />But it DOES have something to do with one of Barack Obama's brothers, and I mean that in the sense of how black people call other black people their brothers, because they were all born in the same village in Kenya and have forged Hawaiian birth certificates just so they can be president, because as we all know, being president is such a low-stress gig and so easy to get that what African citizen WOULDN'T want a job like that?<br /><br />Anywhoop, the great "Jesus's Email Silence of 2009" is the fault of another Obama: Eldrick "Tiger Woods" Obama.<br /><br />I understand that Tiger's "transgressions" are morally reprehensible to the upright and unimpeachable paparazzi stalkers and tabloid journalists who can't stop covering this story, and that no one else in the country has ever cheated on someone they were married to or tried to flee a golf-club-wielding former bikini model while they were hopped up on painkillers at 2:30 in the morning. But does it really mean that every professional golfer and/or Son of Man has to suddenly and without warning abruptly cease communication with his or His mistress(es)?<br /><br />How is that remotely fair?<br /><br />It feels a lot like when you're speeding down your local parkway and you happen upon some miscreant in a '98 Nissan who just got pulled over by a quota-hunting state trooper, and then all of a sudden traffic slows down for about a quarter mile. But the officer has virtually every single one of his faculties occupied by the scalawag in the Sentra! That is the quarter mile in which to live it up!<br /><br />Speed all you want! Drive drunk! Suspend habeas corpus! Start an illegal war! Wiretap your fellow Americans! Ban stem cell research! THE COP IS BUSY! GO NUTS!<br /><br />All the gossip sites have all their microscopes and telescopes and garbage picking operations and forensic fabrication artists squarely pointed at Tiger Woods Obama right now, which means there simply isn't the time or manpower for them to cover another celebrity scandal or a budding romance between, say, a random Messiah and an aged Motown star masquerading as a bloggerizer/Fruit Plant employee. It's simple mathemagicians!<br /><br />And here's some more good advice, courtesy of Accenture:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBXzG2ZTxGRHcpUUJgCDIr15ldmlfL-azZZtlZxfVY7Dmb4OQeHMP_Qt6YUgu-h9IlG19TQ9IJdCvqXEkqKTNZNQCIeVeZkBi5cMcJt8MzYISiFz1uow3HRo-CzXi1dGe5jca/s1600-h/TW+ad+-+unpaved.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEBXzG2ZTxGRHcpUUJgCDIr15ldmlfL-azZZtlZxfVY7Dmb4OQeHMP_Qt6YUgu-h9IlG19TQ9IJdCvqXEkqKTNZNQCIeVeZkBi5cMcJt8MzYISiFz1uow3HRo-CzXi1dGe5jca/s400/TW+ad+-+unpaved.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410887047707142834" border="0" /></a>Ha ha ha, you know what ELSE isn't always paved? The patch of the Nevada desert where I'm going to take Jesus and bury His (Sweet) Ass if he doesn't start answering my Himdamned emails. I don't expect Him to stay buried for more than three days (he has a pretty well-documented pattern), but I still have to try to get through to that Bastard somehow. I WILL NOT BE JILTED BY JESUS*!<br /><br />Translation: quit being such a Youdamned Goody-Goody, Jesus. The "morality cops" are looking the other way.<br /><br />More importantly, this motel room is expensive, this negligee is itchy, and this champagne isn't going to drink itself.<br /><br />Answer my emails. And don't go pretending You didn't get them either - I know that Youdamned iPhone of Yours is on all the time.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Actually, that statement might be factually inaccurate. It seems quite likely that I, like all the Jews in Christendom will, in fact, be jilted by Jesus.</span>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-16988066913906047222009-11-12T16:36:00.004-05:002009-11-12T16:46:45.169-05:00Another Deflated GasbagSo Lou Dobbs quit, eh? Or did he really get pushed out so they could outsource his job to an illegal immigrant who will work for a much lower wage and no healthcare?<br /><br />Ha ha ha, I totally have Dobbs's number.<br /><br />I was originally inclined to buy the man a cupcake as my way of saying thank you for shutting the fuck up. But then I found something even more speshul.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BE4wVgzrIodgNswuzrJgtKtTk8ZBNMH1ejEIMGtPCYhcRmPNUEE8u_a3RpfZU0sJ9A5EoZqM-N_tP5Abr8hIPfusvjoQR94aSf5Tet9flkXtzGHp3KQOt4N42HiIzUfNoK1z/s1600-h/fisholes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6BE4wVgzrIodgNswuzrJgtKtTk8ZBNMH1ejEIMGtPCYhcRmPNUEE8u_a3RpfZU0sJ9A5EoZqM-N_tP5Abr8hIPfusvjoQR94aSf5Tet9flkXtzGHp3KQOt4N42HiIzUfNoK1z/s400/fisholes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403336156401870978" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><blockquote>Dear Lou Dobbs,<br /><br />America is a better country with you not on television. On behalf of a grateful nation, please accept this can of Manhattan style fish assholes.<br /><br />Love and kisses,<br />Smokey Robinson and the Funky Bunch</blockquote>Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-52587243777825871802009-11-05T10:51:00.004-05:002009-11-05T14:36:09.803-05:00Consoration for the Phirries and Their PhansThe Whirled Series is officially over now, everybuzzy, and whether you rooted for the Broad Street Bullies, the Bronx Bombers, or the Minnesota Bullwinkles (not pictured), I think it's pretty safe to say that, in spite of all the time you spent watching, in spite of all the energy you spent cheering, in spite of all the cocaine you let Robinson Cano and Pedro Feliz snort off your delicious ass, chances are that they probably won't call the next day.<br /><br />And if you're from Frilladelphia, that's not the only ring you won't be getting this year. (Zing!)<br /><br />Well cheer up there, Phuckaroo! Don't let the Phils' ills be too much for this fan! I know it looks like the entire city of New York is giving you the Phinger and telling you to phuck oph, but that's just the way the skyline is shaped.<br /><br />But if you still can't bear the 370-day championship drought in the City of Brotherly Lovers (ew!), here's some things you can be gratephul phor while you're waiting around for next year.<br /><br />1. You already won the 2009 Whirled Series!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLQMimQx6tbs0giJJMlpBTKOVLdtfi9z1axWmt2MN7JppaD9YXK92sBdaqOAE_YULB9te1Cs-WqElCcoRzrTkP52uxkh1yXEIEEGtD9Kp0ZjALXylklCJVQfp9DrXmrtPMWpd/s1600-h/phillieswin.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLLQMimQx6tbs0giJJMlpBTKOVLdtfi9z1axWmt2MN7JppaD9YXK92sBdaqOAE_YULB9te1Cs-WqElCcoRzrTkP52uxkh1yXEIEEGtD9Kp0ZjALXylklCJVQfp9DrXmrtPMWpd/s400/phillieswin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400704360243543330" border="0" /></a><br /><br />At least according to the Philadelphia <span style="font-style: italic;">Inquirer</span>, you did. This ad ran on Monday, just after the Yankees had taken a 3-1 series lead. Perhaps they borrowed phact checkers from Phox News. Or perhaps they were merely taking their cues from Jimmy Rollins's pre-Series prediction that the Phillies would win in phour games - or phive if they were pheeling generous. It's not at all clear which phour or phive games Mr. Rollins's was referring to, but one thing IS clear, and it happens to be the second thing Philly phans can be happy about:<br /><br />2. No Jimmy Rollins fortune telling business!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgE9KQfIouf3XaEQb2JYd3IlCGMHVfPV_dS71Gezl-acJg9d676mGxPkttsz5clTJT5a4IT1vkyBv-R9UFfQE_dQHOOPPha4Z_gXEWFBKO8SJwbld7MILb_8HLea887Q2Qluu/s1600-h/rollins.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbgE9KQfIouf3XaEQb2JYd3IlCGMHVfPV_dS71Gezl-acJg9d676mGxPkttsz5clTJT5a4IT1vkyBv-R9UFfQE_dQHOOPPha4Z_gXEWFBKO8SJwbld7MILb_8HLea887Q2Qluu/s400/rollins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400704346189399762" border="0" /></a><br /><br />With the myth of his psychic skills now debunked, Rollins's entre into the lucrative world of astral projection and Wee-Jee Boards and Professional Mumbo Jumbo-ism can now comfortably fall in the ditch of broken dreams along with Philadelphia's hopes to repeat as Whirled Champions.<br /><br />He had to see it coming, though, right? Oh, maybe not.<br /><br />3. Ryan Howard's Birthday is in two weeks!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrYORaO2DK3ydegBch1I3K4gSu22ZT5OkkvmnTfyO3kYbc-hvEjwlUeF9G0HMvQ7XqxHW2SMWSQ8qYWIi3Qsf2oGp2A0sTlb25sMv3JanX6EQH-EfCXsAAjoMt0b6Me0bHYjl/s1600-h/ryanhowarddrunk.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOrYORaO2DK3ydegBch1I3K4gSu22ZT5OkkvmnTfyO3kYbc-hvEjwlUeF9G0HMvQ7XqxHW2SMWSQ8qYWIi3Qsf2oGp2A0sTlb25sMv3JanX6EQH-EfCXsAAjoMt0b6Me0bHYjl/s400/ryanhowarddrunk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400704352978629346" border="0" /></a><br />That's something to be happy about, isn't it?<br /><br />4. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia!<br /><br />Not the show, I'm talking about the actual fact that it is literally ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA. Scholars maintain that the reason for this is because of a dracula named Twilight. And scholars are never wrong, or else they wouldn't be called that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbKjAuZtFShVhW8TjEt-XT0IqYLx6I5Uw-W0IE1VA8UGKWL9igVTEhNLDql8TIMZPJ1xK1RdAYKjNfV0kNpVHq6vcP-Ty0KB78PJK865rz14pBQ8DxAjg6Vk3-EpqRmop__HH/s1600-h/dracula+named+twilight.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCbKjAuZtFShVhW8TjEt-XT0IqYLx6I5Uw-W0IE1VA8UGKWL9igVTEhNLDql8TIMZPJ1xK1RdAYKjNfV0kNpVHq6vcP-Ty0KB78PJK865rz14pBQ8DxAjg6Vk3-EpqRmop__HH/s400/dracula+named+twilight.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400704882614174882" border="0" /></a><br />5. No more foul territory reports from Ken Rosenthal!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVh61dg4EljR-fzEtGVzP3uK6ntDM9eLFumjhhrRPIiIHNa7eY1VNaHI7ZHnYCZ3Gv2AguYr0zdZlWX4iHs_YaYFqVQfD27mwPzpz1jxVuWXvFOYqmeWBXYpesdZw-bPrLjHit/s1600-h/rosenthal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVh61dg4EljR-fzEtGVzP3uK6ntDM9eLFumjhhrRPIiIHNa7eY1VNaHI7ZHnYCZ3Gv2AguYr0zdZlWX4iHs_YaYFqVQfD27mwPzpz1jxVuWXvFOYqmeWBXYpesdZw-bPrLjHit/s400/rosenthal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400704354402326882" border="0" /></a><br />I initially thought Ken Rosenthal's imitation of Steve Carell's character from <span style="font-style: italic;">Anchorman </span>was Fox Sports' attempt to make more hip by bringing in a comedy act - kind of like when ABC brought in Dennis Miller to do Monday Night Foosball, only much, much, much funnier. It turns out, however, that Ken Rosenthal is just a short white dude with a microphone and an IQ approaching 36. And since we already have enough of those guys on the teevee (I'm talking to YOU, Barack Obama), I am very much looking forward to seeing Ken Rosenthal shut the hell up.<br /><br />Or not seeing it. Or... well, whatever.<br /><br />6. You're not that phar from New York!<br /><br />So if you want to come to the parade, or if you'd like to call into WFAN and rant about Yankee steroid usage (because I'm sure nobody in the history of the Phillies ever even HEARD of steroids, and also that the windows in their glass houses are all perfectly streak-free), or if you just want to drive up the Turnpike to remind yourself what a champion city looks like, all it'll cost you is $11 or $12 in tolls, which the grate state of New Jersey will be more than happy to accept.<br /><br />I really think six things is enough, and if you can't be happy with that, maybe you should start doing yoga or something. Anyways, I don't have time to keep going with this. There's a parade in New York tomorrow, and my victory outfit isn't going to plan itself.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-7296876360335241582009-11-04T11:08:00.008-05:002009-11-04T11:29:17.861-05:00Not Our YearIt saddens me to no end to report that in yesterday's New York City mayoral election, it was Mike Bloomberg, and not the Muppets, who took Manhattan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXuSgAqSHOqg8ZUQrZGybkMT-g3J7eQanycRDuSY6mJEwa1l6-Ix6kZDYxJg8F92Hzfln_hkHCIPNKC5qzL0NEemdXpDbktMtmK6Hn1hz7_qWfdgUQsKF-dmic8KK1Zt0qnAGa/s1600-h/muppetfail.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 356px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXuSgAqSHOqg8ZUQrZGybkMT-g3J7eQanycRDuSY6mJEwa1l6-Ix6kZDYxJg8F92Hzfln_hkHCIPNKC5qzL0NEemdXpDbktMtmK6Hn1hz7_qWfdgUQsKF-dmic8KK1Zt0qnAGa/s400/muppetfail.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400284626823691362" border="0" /></a><br />In fact, the Muppets didn't even come in second. That honor went to someone called "City Comptroller Bill Thompson," whose haircut led me to believe he was at least half-Muppet himself.<br /><br />(Hey, psst! Am I the only one who thinks "Bill Thompson" sounds like a made up name? How generic can you get? Bill Thompson? It might as well have been Jack Smith or Bob Mitchell or Bill Thompson or something. Bill Thompson is like the kind of name you used to check into a hotel when you don't want the federales or that nosey wife of yours to find out where you're staying. What are you hiding, Bill Thompson, if that fake-sounding name IS your real name?)<br /><br />Anyway, Bill Thompson lost, and now he has to go back to the same job he had before, and probably have lunch at the same stupid cafe downstairs in the lobby of the same dumb, boring building, which is almost as frowny face as the Muppets NOT taking Manhattan, as I was led to believe they would.<br /><br />The New York times says Mayor Bloomberg no longer seems invincible, and I agree that he does look pretty vincible, which is what makes the Muppets' failure to take Manhattan all the more heartbreaking. This is like reliving the failed Oscar the Grouch '08 campaign all over again. Only this time, with 30-35 percent more tears.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-28358684800484028162009-11-03T11:42:00.008-05:002009-11-03T13:41:30.528-05:00Is Athletic Success the New Black?Fruit workers, particularly those in the various canning divisions of your major fruit conglomerates are a shifty bunch, full of testiness and simmering currents of rich, creamy, bacon-and-cherry-flavored, race-based bias and resentment. And nothing brings that bias and resentment bubbling to the surface like beisbol.<br /><br />When Jackie Robinson broke the Collar Barrier in 1947, there were riots and looting throughout the fruit canning world, and the entire operation of the Dole Fruit Plant here in midtown Manhattan had to be suspended for almost thirty years before the furor could be calmed. It took a surprise appearance and impromptu concert by a dashing young black man named Kenny Loggins to get things stable.<br /><br />Those were the days.<br /><br />Needless to say, my friendship with Alex Rodriguez (the baseball player Alex Rodriguez, not the nuclear physicist Alex Rodriguez, that punk ass) has therefore been somewhat problematic for me at the old Fruit Plant. It's not because he's a widely despised public figure. Dole-mites love widely despised public figures as a general rule. It's because he's black.<br /><br />Welcome to post-modern America, and thank you very much, Barack Obama.<br /><br />There used to be a time when men were real men, women were real women, transvestites were neither real men nor real women, and Americans could comfortably use race as a reason to dislike other Americans. Remember the politics of hate and all that? I miss the 80s so much sometimes.<br /><br />See, because now, it's the opposite of that. The peeple I work with don't dislike I-Can't-Believe-Clay-Aiken-is-Gay-Rod because of his race. They dislike him because of his repeated postseason failures, his admission of steroid usage, and the fact that he loves to pull down his pants and run screaming through midtown Manhattan with fermented wheels of Gouda cheese. And because they dislike him, they therefore assume he must be black. QED, quid pro quo, summa cum laude, lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, Amen.<br /><br />On the handful of occasions when my pal has stopped by to visit, his reception at the hands of the various members of Canning Operations staff has run the gamut from nasty, sustained peltings with full cans of bacon-wrapped cherries to much more friendly peltings with half-eaten cans of bacon-wrapped cherries with the tops removed, because the edges of those tops could really hurt somebody. (That's how you can tell the C-Ops staff are in a forgiving mood.)<br /><br />Of course, discerning cultural anthropologists, as well as anyone with a pair of eyes and a rudimentary understanding of Spanish names, would dispute the notion of Tina-Fey-Rod's blackness. Then again, he is dating Kate Hudson, goes the counter-argument. Also not helping matters: all this postseason success and glory and clutch performance, the kind of performance reminiscent of notable black men like Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan and the aforementioned Kenny Loggins, who rushed for a then-record 282 yards and 7 touchdowns in a game between Georgia and LSU in 1982.<br /><br />It's getting so you can't be good at anything in this country without peeple assuming that you're black and hating you for your success, although not necessarily in that order. Thanks again, Democratic Party.<br /><br />And thanks also to fine folks in the C-Ops division at Dole, who are throwing those cans of bacon-wrapped cherries at me for no readily discernible reason. They couldn't possibly think ol' Smokey Robinson here is black, could they?<br /><br />I've-Been-Workin'-On-The-Railroad-All-The-Livelong-Day-Rod, take me away-Rod!Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-65269528349789309232009-10-16T12:27:00.004-04:002009-10-16T16:45:04.934-04:00This Week in BallooneryIn the roughly 14 minutes a day when I’m not either bloggerizing, canning peaches, discussing Sartre, or prank-calling the assholes from the Chiquita company volleyball team (just kiddin’, those calls totally weren’t from me! Love you guys!), it’s a pretty safe bet that you can find me trolling the internerds for all things balloon-related. Balloonery is always pretty widely covered by bloggers and the Jew-run media alike, and deservedly so, for what other adventure sport gets the pulse pounding like a balloon ride? This is what has kept balloonism at the forefront of the American imagination for centuries, while things like revolutions, powdered wigs, the Cola Wars, and Bayrock Alabama (or whatever that guy’s name was) have all fallen by the wayside like the passing fads they were.<br /><br />Needless to say, I was caught entirely by surprise yesterday to see the entire nation hold its collective breath while a child hid in his parents’ garage. It wasn’t until much, much later, when I read the story on pinkthingsandballoons.com (my fave site on the planet! xoxoxo!) that it started to make sense why this story had captured the hearts and <span style="font-style: italic;">medullae oblongatae</span> of everyone you know and I know combined, including the oh-so-lickable Diana Ross: They thought Falcon Heene was in a balloon!<br /><br />No wonder the story got three hours of airtime on CNN!<br /><br />Of course, what the Falcon Heene incident highlights (other than the obviously impending grounding of that adorbzable little trickster) is the compelling and urgent need for stringent legislation to protect children from balloons, and perhaps from homebrew aircraft of every stripe. We can’t have the irresponsible amateur aviators of this nation leave their temptingly fun flying contraptions loosely tethered to their backyard fences where children might accidentally not climb into them and thereby transfix an entire nation without some sort of consequence. Or else the next kid not to climb into a Reynolds-Wrap-and-toothpick craft could be YOURS…<br /><br />The balloonistas in this country are inevitably going to cry foul over such an egregious restriction of their rights. But they only have themselves to blame. I mentioned how popular their chosen pursuit is, didn’t I? This would be totally different if it were, say, a story about a <a href="http://matt-hooban.blogspot.com/2008/10/this-week-in-guns.html">kid getting shot with an Uzi at a gun show</a>. Gun-related mishaps don’t garner nearly the attention that balloon safety non-incidents do, and for very good reason. You can’t even find reliable statistics about gun deaths in this country, because it’s just not that big a deal. Meanwhile, the Falcon Heene Affair very publicly raises the number of balloon-related media frenzies that do not involve fatality or injury throughout recorded history to ONE. And that’s something that we and our elected representatives can simply not afford to ignore.<br /><br />Also birthday clowns. They cannot afford to ignore this either. And carnival workers. And horses. Pay attention, horses, if you're not already doing so. (It's hard to tell with horses in New York - you get the distinct impression that a lot of them are going through life with blinders on.)<br /><br />To think, this all could have been avoided if the Heenes were gun enthusiasts. Nothing like a good Second-Amendment-sanctioned child slaying to keep a family below the radar, eh? Chuckle chuckle chuckle bang.Smokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38897936.post-61912222177022262122009-10-13T12:20:00.002-04:002009-10-13T12:27:13.378-04:00A letter to an Old FriendDear Jesus,<br /><br />Hi!<br /><br />So I know You and me haven’t really talked since Angelina Jolie took over Your spot as my spiritual adviser and frozen yogurt buddy. I mean, You kind of had it coming after You spent the entire summer on Fox News telling people to bring their guns everywhere and blasting “President Hopey McNobel Prize” (Your words) for trying to horn in on Your healing-the-sick game. Let’s just face it: I needed help, and You were Nowhere to be found. There were no sets of footprints in the sand.<br /><br />Between You and me (and Your Dad, since He/She knows All), I think frosting me at the ESPYs was a little bit juvenile, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt like the stigmata. You certainly know how to cut me, Lord. Angelina and I can’t seem to find our footing as spiritual adviser/advisee and fro-yo enthusiasts either. She always insists on meeting up in LA even though she knows I can’t fly without potentially lethal doses of horse tranquilizer in my system. Also, she likes Pinkberry even though that shit is disgusting. (Nice job fooling the masses on that one, BTDouble-You. That abomination has Jesus written all over it.)<br /><br />But that’s not what I’m writing to talk about today. I’m writing to talk about Japan, the benighted land that You and Daddy obviously either forgot or gave up on, as evidenced by the country-wide obsessions with sushi, Godzilla, Scooby-Doo, and being teeny tiny. I strongly suspect Your Abandonment is also why the Japans have to keep inventing so many technologies there so they can keep up with your chosen people, the Americas, where Hummers and M&Ms plain chocolate candy and Motorola-brand cellular telephones rain from the sky, and where free syringes full of Your magical healing essence periodically wash up on the shores of Long Island and New Jersey only to be “mistaken” for medical waste (probably to fool the poors into being afraid to eat the syringes themselves, right? Thought so.).<br /><br />The Japans have none of that, except the cellular telephones. But their cars are much more smaller, and M&Ms there have a distinct octopus flavor. (Okay, I don’t know for certain that it’s Octopus, but it’s definitely the flavor of some kind of underwater cephalopod.) And according to this miraculously preserved piece of video evidence from YouTube, the Japans are also evidently forced to walk around at a fraction of normal human speed.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KAxgpHWtLC0&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KAxgpHWtLC0&rel=0&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /></div><br />Wasn’t Your Mother Jewish? How do You not feel just the teensiest, Japan-sized amount of guilt for this?<br /><br />You disgust me, Jesus. That is the opposite how Renee Zellweger made Tom Cruise feel in the hit ABC sitcom <span style="font-style: italic;">Jerry Maguire</span>. But since I need some delicious fro-yo STAT, and since we don’t really take breaks from canning during the pre-holiday rush, can You possibly pick me up some? And please don’t forsake me with the atrocity that is Pinkberry.<br /><br />Yours in David Schwimmer (he played Ross on the hit ABC sitcom "Friends", in case You forgot who he was or thought he was a Japan or something),<br />SmokeySmokey Robinson (aka Matt)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17454303866747319889noreply@blogger.com0