Monthly Archives: May 2010

American Apparently

Last Tuesday marked the end of the 9th season of American Idol, the Fox Network reality show charged with the mission to find the next musical artist to appear in the discount bin at CVS.

"I know, I know, this is bullsh-t, right?"

In typical Idol fashion, the American voting public chose Lee Dewyze who honestly might be the blandest male singer since Jordin Sparks.

Eh, what’s that? Oh nevermind then.

Anyway, that was by far the least interesting thing that happened last night—the 9th season finale was full of surprises, like seeing the New Rubben Studdard. The old one was large and pudgy and looked as if he’d been brought to eat the other contestants. Well on Idol last week, the new one surfaced, who clearly had his stomach stapled, glue gunned and cuffed with those plastic bracelets that the cops use to subdue crackheads.

While this was certainly scary to see, it paled in comparison to the reappearance of Kelly Clarkson, who appeared to have spent time away from music busying herself with merging with the big sister from Wilson Phillips in an attempt to channel playing Cyndi Lauper’s stunt double (chin).

"Hold still, Janet; your brother's showing again"

But the show wasn’t only about the past winners. There was also a segment of performers that they might as well have called “Damn They Used to Be Hot”, featuring Christina Aguilera and Janet Jackson. Christina Aguilera came out first and sang….something. Not sure what. The whole time she was singing I could only think, “this reminds me of the footage they play of Big Boy Elvis whenever they talk about him dying from overeating and booze”. I’m all for hot moms, even when hot moms can sing and you know that they used to do stuff like grind in muddy boxing rings with Redman, but post-baby moms in hot pants and heels means Flaccid Fridays for The Kids.

And then there was the woman who is now the trivia answer to Q: “what  female pop-artist from the 90’s now sports a “I love dick-punchin’ ” haircut and a skin-tight body suit that looks like it’s housing both Michael Jackson and Gary Coleman’s bodies stuffed in the back?

A: Janet Jackson.

Seriously, Janet Jackson looked like Grace Jones on HGH that night. I was actually worried that all the bright lights and sounds would require AI show staff to have to come on stage and subdue her, like King Kong or one of the Jurassic Park dinosaurs.

I also feared that the poop-chute on her body suit would pop open and out would tumble the King of Pop’s body, clutching a toy monkey.

Long mic stand. Guitar. Dane Cook. Three phallic symbols on one stage.

Speaking of crap in your pants, the show also inexplicably featured Dane Cook, the comedian I routinely wish bad things would happen to—like having to appear on American Idol and singing with a geet-tar. The guy is unfunny in the same way that old college buddy of yours thinks he’s funny just because he can recycle some lame, gross jokes and make really, really lame puns–all while looking and sounding like beat-up box of Summer’s Eve.

I hate Dane Cook.

I hate Dane Cook.

I hate Dane Cook.

I really don’t understand why Dane Cook still gets work; aren’t there some migrant workers in Arizona that they could’ve hired to recite his lines instead, thereby not only saving America the pain of seeing his face, but in the process, begin making good on the pact we made with Mexico to import more of its non-narcotics goods?

I mean, why stop with Salma Hayek?

The only thing that could’ve made Cook’s performance worse was if they had George “I do Mexican Bug-Eyed Minstrel real good” Lopez accompany him on a harmonica.

And so, another season of the U.S. top-rated show comes to an end. And when the lights go back up next season, it’ll be without Simon Cowell, the laser-tongued Brit who was the show’s only relevant judge. Which means we’ll be treated with a series of “Who’s Replacing Simon?” headlines until next January.

Dane Cook’s looking for work!



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Condoms: Because you can’t spell “F-cked” without ‘d’ or ‘c’

I used to work in Washington D.C.

Crazy place.

The new DC school hallpasses are getting students riled up

You know/ever see Grand Theft Auto? You know, how people run the streets killing and stealing cars at random?

Yeah well the crazy thing is, if you ever read the back of a Grand Theft Auto game box, the fine print will read:

“Game elements, ideas and themes were developed in collaboration with the District of Columbia Public School System. Please note that some of the elements were toned down in the interest of not scaring the shit out of people—those DC kindergarteners are crazy!”

Just providing some context. DC is a crazy place.

When I worked in DC, one of the key things I did was visit the public high schools throughout the city. Here are some of the things that I saw in my 2 years touring schools:

  • A teacher’s car being burned. In the classroom. With the teacher inside, sleeping.
  • A dog checking hall passes in a 9th grade wing. When I said, “man, that’s some crazy shit, what with that dog checking hall passes”, the student escorting me said, “yeah, well, that bitch got tired being principal here and thought this was a good transition once she started having kids”. I looked again: the dog was on its side with three pups and a security guard suckling at its teat.
  • An under-resourced marching band that couldn’t afford instruments or uniforms so the students all had to use guns and bandanas instead. I mentioned this to one teacher who could only reply, “what marching band?”.  Indeed.

    Principal 'Missy' is an outspoken critic of the new condom policy. And a real bitch.

So it comes as little surprise that a recent Washington Post article was about how students in DC were demanding that something be done about the quality education they’ve been receiving:

They asked for better quality condoms.

Makes sense right? If they’ve been getting f-cked all this time, it’d be nice if the DC district switched to magnum-sized ones ribbed for pleasure instead of the expired ones that they gave to school administration teams that would in turn punch holes in them in the hopes that staff or students would impregnate problem students and force them to miss school.

Even Chancellor of Schools, Michelle Rhee defends the idea:

“Look, sure we could get new books, but hell, everybody’s on this whole ‘better books’ thing. It’s a fad. And we already tried ‘Bring Your Baby to Class’ program, but found that most parents were embarrassed that their kids were out-performing them in class, and with roughly 30% of the grandparents in classrooms too, we thought it better to limit the familial dynamics hampering education.”

In a district bereft of afterschool programs, the arts and clean toilets, the Suggestion Box outside of the D.C. Schools District Building was overflowed with one, constant demand: “more fukkin'”.

So what’s to happen with all the old condoms?

In Mrs. Snatchkind's 5th grade class, students learn how to match organ size with the appropriate condom.

According to one charter CEO, he and several other charters have done midnight runs to rummage through the D.C. trash, collecting and disbursing the porous penis pockets amongst their pupils.

“For us, the opportunity to increase our enrollment numbers in-house not only cuts back on recruitment expenses, but ensures we’ll have even more revenue thanks to the per-pupil allotment! Hoozah, free market!”

Meanwhile, the new condoms that the D.C. schools will be using will come in shiny new gold wrappers.

The following are actual quotes from the Washington Post article. Grab a towel cause you’re about to shit yourself:

  1. So D.C. officials have decided to stock up on Trojan condoms, including the company’s super-size Magnum variety, and they have begun to authorize teachers or counselors, preferably male, to distribute condoms to students if the teachers complete a 30-minute online training course called “WrapMC” — for Master of Condoms. (Kids: This falls under the category of Things You Don’t Mention You’re Certified In on your resume. Also, what’s it mean if you don’t complete the course? Talk about being f-cked, huh?)

    Chancellor Rhee speaks at the 69th Annual Master of Condom ceremony.

  2. “The gold package certainly has a little bit of the bling quality,” said Michael Kharfen, a spokesman for the city’s HIV/AIDS administration. (Kids: I actually have no words for this bit)

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Los Lonely Boys

Here at The Kids HQ, the household is all abuzz because the NBA Playoffs have been well underway for the last 3 weeks.

Kenyon Martin is in his "happy place" thinking of all the heiffers back home

It’s been a great chance to see Kevin Garnett, the NBA’s resident Crazy Homeless Man Act, Dwyane Wade, who’s starting to have better T-Mobile commercials than playoff appearances, and my favorite, Kenyon Martin*, a man deemed “too ghetto” to appear in episodes of The Wire**. Martin also has a pair of lips tattooed on his neck, most likely from the time his mother kissed him before he was scheduled to be executed. He broke out of the chair, went on a cow-f*cking rampage in Wisconsin, and eventually found his way to the Denver Nuggets, though he still can’t pass an Outback Steakhouse without getting a chubby.

And then there’s Lebron “King” James. What can I say about Lebron that hasn’t been said about a gay pornstar? He pummels guys with reckless abandon, drives hard to hole, handles balls really well, and willing to take on 5 guys all by himself. Never seen anything like him, though that’s largely because I’ve never seen gay porn.

In motion.

In the morning.


UPDATE: Lebron just lost to the Homeless Man and the Celtics last night. People are blaming it on his sore elbow. Hey, it’s hard to beat-off guys going after your ball when you’ve got a sore elbow.

Lebron in-between takes on the set of "Space Jam"

But lately, the story is the Phoenix Suns, the Arizona team led by point guard Steve Nash. Nash is a freakishly good athlete that looks like he should be playing soccer or tennis and have someone named Bagger Vance either toweling him off or carrying his balls. You know; like the stuff Lebron “Darth Dong” James does.

Anyway, in a rare show of political posturing and bold statements, the Phoenix Suns recently changed their jerseys from “Phoenix” on the front to “Los Suns”, a reference to towards the recent Arizona immigration law ruling that now allows cops to essentially stop people they suspect of being illegal immigrants due to their appearance. In most urban cities, this is called “Neighborhood Watch”, as in, “hey urban neighborhood, we’re watching you”.

Shoe designer, NBA reporter, J.A. Adande, owner of "Adande Check Cashing", Newark, NJ

During a recent game in Phoenix, Nash was interviewed about the Suns’ decision by J.A. Adande, a black sports journalist from L.A. and not a high-priced African-based shoe-line as you might imagine when hearing “J.A. Adande”:

J.A. : Steve, everyone’s wondering: what’s with the jersey change?

Nash: First of all, J.A., I’d like to congratulate Lebron on his first adult film, “Space Jam”. After seeing a preview of it, I think it’s safe to say he’s definitely not the next Michael Jordan.

J.A. : Riveting. And the jersey change?

Nash: Oh, right. We changed our jerseys to show support for our Mexican-Ameri—

–and that’s as far as he got before getting clubbed, tasered and arrested on the sidelines by the ‘Zona police officers there on duty.

Thanks to an anonymous caller—we’ll call him ‘Bron LeJames’—Nash was promptly sent back to his hometown in the Upper Celine Dion province.

ESPN reporter J.A. Adande was also accosted at the scene after failing an on-the-spot paper bag test and unable to provide the officers with a copy of his freedom papers. He’s been sent to Newark, NJ despite repeatedly yelling that he “wasn’t from there”.

A drunken Nash tries to prove he "bleeds U.S.A." to AZ police

When asked about the Adande Incident–now referred to as “J.A. Gate”—and his claims that he belonged to the ESPN franchise, Phoenix PD Officer Mendoza sneered, “we sent him where he belonged. Let him help his community now by reporting on the rising prices of Old English and how to not win the state lottery every week”.

Adande currently works at a check-cashing store in eastern Newark.

Gasol being, well, Gasol

With other teams possibly slotted to come through Phoenix for the remainder of the playoffs, security detail has been heightened. While officers aren’t worried about Lakers like Pau Gasol (“someone that white and dopey can’t be an illegal”, opined Lt. Garcias) or Sasha Vujacic (“she’s pretty hot”), they are still requiring Ron Artest (wanted in Mexico for impregnating chickens) and Phil Jackson though he’s expected to be cleared once he proves he doesn’t have cloven hooves.

But this still leaves many players concerned for the 2010-2011 NBA season when their teams have to visit the Suns. Players ranging from the phonetically-challenged (listen to Marquis Daniels speak–on anything–and watch the reporter try and decode on the spot), to the bizarre in appearance (Greg Oden looks like he stepped off the set of Harry and the Hendersons) or even the yellow peril of Yao Ming, all of them have something to worry about.

Just ask Nash.

*this is the same Kenyon Martin that threatened to shoot the motherf—ker that filled his car with popcorn as a prank, thus making him the plutonium in “team chemistry”.

**not true, but really, really possible


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