Category Archives: Late to the Party

Late to the Party #3: Look under your chairs–it’s Oprah!

So, I’m watching TV at home a few months ago, and a commercial for Oprah’s show comes on TV.

It says, “I have a secret to tell you…..one that I’ve been hiding for years…..Stedman and I have two girls……”

oprah
She’s like a black Ellen DeGeneres!

And the screen lightens to show Oprah and her two dogs mud wrestling together in the kitchen or some shit–I don’t remember.

All I know is that there were three bitches in Oprah’s kitchen/lawn whatever.

And that the show was about how Oprah can sympathize with her audience because she “knows what it’s like to be a working mom raising two kids at home”.

Can you believe that??? Only OprahFuckingWinfrey could get away with such an asinine idea for a show topic. 

lady_and
This lady’s a tramp

And then they turn over to the actual episode where they show Oprah, (who really starting to resemble that whore Cocker Spaniel from Lady and the Tramp) talking to her audience about “how hard it is” (twss). It was totally bizarre. And these people were eating it up.

As a matter of fact, a survey was taken of smart, independent thinking audiences, and here’s where Oprah’s follwers ranked:

79. Infomercial audiences

80. White Supremacy meetings

81. NPR listeners

82. Oprah Winfrey show audience (tie)

82. Zombies (tie)

83. Mega-Church goers

Sad, isn’t it?

Anyway, this is how Oprah works. She dismantles reasoning and rationality and spoon feeds it to her audience who laps it all up like Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange.

clockwork
“Oprah”: A Million Little Pieces….of your brain

Crazy shit that Oprah has done:

1. Took on the meat industry, which is funny, since I hear she rarely takes on meat (looks from Stedman to Gayle).

2. Visited a poor village somewhere in Africa, where, amid starvation, AIDS, man-eating lions and Dave Chappelle, she decided that the thing that the village girls needed most was……baby dolls.

In typical Oprah style, she presented the dolls by saying, “As a matter of fact, everyone lift up your mud-hut sleeping mats–” (girls lift up mats) “–you’ve got PUNK ROCK BARBIE DOLLLSSSSSS!!!” (Oprah shaking her hair and a commemorative spear to the sky).

Less offensive gifts Oprah could’ve given:

–cases of 5o Cent’s “Vitamin Water”

–iPhones

–free 2-night stay at Hotel Rwanda

3.  Oprah’s “Legend’s Ball” which is ridiculous or its pure affrontery of putting Alice Walker (author, The Color Purple) and Toni Morrison (author, Beloved) in the same room with Halle Berry (famous for being crazy, banging Billy Bob for an Oscar and showing her titties to Hugh Jackman) and Tyra Banks (blog-worthy shitshow talk show; Miss Jay).

And then there’s Oprah’s ridiculous calvalcade of guest stars on her show, ranging in diversity from Tom Cruise to John Travolta. Oh wait, no, that’s not fair, she’s also had Nicole Kidman, Katie Holmes, Rachel Ray and Maya Angelou’s corpse on there, too.

“Everyone look under their chairs……..I’ve taken your BRAAIIINNNS!”

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Late to the Party #2: The i’s have it

Thanks to the iPhone and Blackberry, you'll be giving a lot of hand-Jobs too

When the iPhone came along everyone, and I mean everyone got in line to get one.

Before I knew it, I saw tons of people walking around town looking like PECO Energy meter-readers.

Those fuggin’ iPhones look stoopid.

I know that it’s all-in-one, easy-touch, small and light features are all the rave. I get it.

But it, along with the Blackberry, is killing my friendships.

iBerries scare me. They make people twitchy and OCD-like.

Like one time I met a friend for coffee to catch-up and chit chat about how awesome my blog is. Anyway, as soon as we sat down, she pulled out her iBerry* and quietly sat it on the table, clicking it on the side.

Having no idea what the fugg it was at first, I was like “Oh shit, this biznotch is going to fuggin’ record our conversation-she’s trying to Linda Tripp me.” I spent the rest of the time loudly farting in an attempt to muddle the recording as much as possible. Or so I told myself.

It wasn’t until later, when I asked for a copy of the tape, that she told me it was actually an iBerry.

Recently, I’ve been out to dinner with friends on a couple of different occassions and witnessed the control that the iBerry has on people. During one such encounter, a couple of us were debating something small (i.e. “Can Mickey Mouse teabag someone? He wears pants, so therefore…”) and couldn’t reach a consensus, so 4 people pulled out their iBerries to log onto the internets and settle the dispute.

He's actually checking his email.

Watching this was like being at a party and all of a sudden everyone around you pulls out coke and starts doing lines. It’s like, I don’t even know what to do in those situations.

Everyone is glazed over and they’re like, “hold on, hold on…it’s coming up…it’s almost there…it’s loading…it’s a little slow sometimes…” and I’m just like, “dude, stop Trippin’. Put that shit down. Just put it down.”

Must...touch...the Precious...iBerry...

And then they’re all like, “I know, I know, I gotta stop but really I just want to find this for you and I know that I use this too much but I needs it baby I just needs it it’s going to make this all better I swear look I’ll suck your d!ck for $5 and some wireless connection ok baby you know I’m good for it.”

And there you are watching your friend blow you while they try and find out who starred in the remake of The Poseidon Adventure on their iBerry. And they’re talking like Gollum.

So, I want to restart a D.A.R.E. program to help my friends. Who’s with me?

*The Kids will use this term to protect the identities of those discussed in this entry

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Late to the Party #1: “Juno”

Hello? Are you my Mommy?

Hello? Are you my Mommy?

Every now and then, I’m going to do a post called “Late to the Party”; my musings on big, pop-culture flashes of relatively recent memory.  First to bat: the indie-movie darling, Juno.

So what if Entertainment Weekly, Best Week Ever and The Soup met each other randomly at a bar, had some drinks, did some shots, and then, around closing time, The Soup turns to the other two and says, “Hey; how about we take this party back to my place and get nasty with it?” and then Best Week Ever wakes up the next morning with EW’s hand on her boob and The Soup winking at her in his wide-open holey robe and realizes she just had the worst night ever and then realizes that she’s pregnant, has to lay low during the off-season to have the baby, delivers it, and sends it to the Midwest.

That baby is Juno (and really, Juno).

So, aside from the somewhat surreal reaction of the parents, there’s the ootsy-cutesy indie movie “ticks” employed, like:

Micheal Cera’s character eats orange Tic-Tacs all the time!

She’s got a hamburger phone!

Asian exchange student likes to protest outside of abortion clinics! How “indie”!

And there’s also Jennifer Garner’s creepy performance inspired by her “yuppie-hermit life” with Ben Affleck.  Actually, I liked that.

But the real problem here, the biggest problem, is Juno’s unflappable ability to constantly deliver a stream of pop-infused references in a single sentence. It’s exhaustive.

Weirdo.

And you know what? When a kid like that gets to be a teenager and talks like that, not only are they social misfits….not only do they basically have to hang out with their family…. they don’t get knocked up.

No one’s banging The Soup/EW/Best Week’s kid, because kids like that are weird. And they’re into weird shit too, like hanging at your place and stealing your mom’s panties when you go to make PB&J’s to munch on.

So Juno sucks.

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