Stop Da Presses!

The front page of today’s New York Times dealt with all the things one would suspect today, with the Iowa caucus leading the way. If you are not familiar with the Republican caucii, they happen every four years throughout America. These events take place early   in a presidential election year, because it’s too damned cold to do anything else. At Republican caucuses, God-fearing, real American Caucasians (hence the name caucus) from around a particular state will get together (usually at night) in groups to decide which of the candidates would most likely work tirelessly to eliminate the civil rights of most  of the American people, and thus hurl us back to the time of the Puritans, leeches and witch-burning. In last night’s Iowa caucus, Rick “the Inquisition” Santorum, an Italian American Roman Catholic emerged as the Republican Flavor-of-the-month, losing by only eight votes to Mittens, Just-hold-your-nose-and-vote-for- me”, Romney. Hey, how come nobody asked for Santorum’s birth certificate or Romney’s date of manufacture sticker yet?

Interesting? Yeah, in a corn-fed, Americana way, I guess. But it takes a real reporter, someone who will dig DEEEEP into the lint-encrusted bellybutton of America to find the stuff that will captivate the reader’s attention, thereby lulling him or her into the false sense of security in believing that all is right with the world. So I have culled the meat of the fourth estate to the very bone in search of such stories. Read them, weep, laugh, gnash hands and be distracted, while Santorum sets fire to the Constitution and replaces it with...  The Constitorum of the United States. You’ll recognize it by the Preamble which reads:

“Me... and no other people of the U-knighted-me States, in order to form

A more heterosexual union, establish just this,

Insure domestics and housekeepers eligibility for employment based on citizenship,

Provide for the common defense (so that we can blow Iran back to the Stone Age)

Promote the abolishment of welfare and health care

And insure the blessings of liberty for ourselves only and fuck everyone else,

Do hereby ordain and establish this Constitorum

For the U-knighted-me States of America. Amen.”

 The preceding was paid for by the Immature for Gingrich Organization. 

Now let’s get to the real news.

Fifty-one year old British citizen Sarah Burge has spent over $1 million over her lifetime on plastic surgery and liposuction, in an effort to look like a real-life Barbie doll.

Okay. Take a deep breath here as you ponder that. One-million dollars. When you do the monetary conversion it comes out to about Five Hundred Thousand British Pounds, which coincidentally, is how much weight I gained over the holidays.

 No mention is made of a husband, by the way. Do you  think she sliced off his genitalia in an effort to make him look more like Ken? Actually, if he agreed to spending that much money, I'd say that bit of surgery has already taken place; metaphorically, of course. But wait, there’s more.

Sarah Barbie-Burge has a seven year-old daughter named Poppy, an obvious homage to the heroin Sarah must have taken to do something as stupid as this. Are you ready? For a Christmas stocking stuffer, Sarah gave Poppy a $10,000 voucher for LIPOSUCTION! 

“Poppy asks for surgery all the time”, said Barbie. “She wants to look good and lipo is one of those procedures that will come in handy.” Sarah compared it to “saving money for an education.”

This kid asks for surgery? When I was seven, all I wanted was the complete set of Three Stooges hand puppets so I could do shows in my bedroom. Granted, I only had two hands, but I wrote my scripts cleverly so that Moe, Larry, and Curly never had to do scenes together. If people asked, I just told them it was in the Stooges’ contract with Paramount.  But enough about that. Who is this kid’s father, Josef Mengele?

 But wait, there’s still MORE.

Among the many valuable life skills Sarah is teaching little Poppy, such as NOTHING, last year, this maniac Mom began giving the child lessons on pole-dancing. And yes, if you aren’t vomiting yet, there is STILL MORE.

Sarah has reportedly given her seven-year-old baby, a gift certificate to receive breast implants when she turns 16.

“Poppy begged me for a boob job,” the proud Mama told Closer magazine in 2010 (which would have made her 5 at the time). “If she develops naturally big boobs, she can have something else done with it.” Like what? Buy a new mother?

There is nothing I can add to this story to embellish it. In the pantheon of craziest psycho mothers of all time, Sarah Burge outpaces them all. Crazier than Joan Crawford, you say? Let me tell you something. Next to this loon, ole No Wire Coat Hangers Joanie was Mrs. Cunningham from Happy Days. For all my transgendered sisters and brothers out there, I advise you to clip this article, and the next time some self-righteous right wing nut starts ragging on you, just whip this out and scream, “Oh yeah? Well at least I’m not doing THIS to my kids!”

Okay, take another deep, cleansing breath. Ready? Good. Just when you thought it was safe to go in the water, along comes... The attack of the Hasselhoff Crabs!

This story, which was featured in the Washington Post, has nothing whatsoever to do with the unfortunate result of a night of revelry with the star of Baywatch and German pop idol, so you can bring the kids back in front of the computer screen. Seriously, what is wrong with the Germans?  

Actually, this is a legitimate science story of the utmost importance to the future of mankind. It seems that in their first ever exploration of the deep-sea-vents of the Antarctic, which by explanation are connected to the deep-sea furnace, which ultimately heat your home, scientists have discovered a new type of Yeti crab and they have named it the “Hasselhoff Crab” because of its hairy chest.  Now, I have never heard of the Yeti crab in the first place, so they are all new to me. And as for having a hairy chest, why pick on poor Hoff? Have you seen Kelsey Grammer without a shirt? Jesus, you could knit enough Afghans to keep all of Afghanistan warm with his wool. Besides, aren’t crabs macho enough? Do they really need hairy chests to prove their crabhood?

These creatures were discovered way down deep on the Southern Ocean floor in 2010 quite by accident. Apparently the lights from a submersible submarine attracted them and also distracted them from a keg party, where they were spotted opening cans of beer with their claws. As I said, they live very deep in the ocean; about 2,500 meters to be exact. And if I remember my metric conversion math, that’s about four million, five hundred and sixty-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven miles below the surface! Way to go crabs!

I would be a less than responsible reporter if I did not give you a visual description of the “Hoff”, just in case you find yourself four million, five hundred and sixty-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven miles underwater someday when you are out swimming in the Antarctic Ocean. Just a note of caution here; don’t eat anything for a full hour before going swimming at those depths.

Regular Yeti crabs are easily recognized by their hairs, or setae that sprout along their claws and limbs, according to the Post article by Elizabeth Flock. What makes the Hasselhoff Crab even more identifiable (and kinda sexier too, if you ask me), is that it even has hair on its undersides. This ‘hair’ is actually strands of bacteria, which the Hasselhoff crab eats for food! Ewwwww!

And finally, Reuters News Service Reports that the Pope (I forget what number he is) has fired the assistant Bishop of Los Angeles, California, Gabino Zavala for, get this, fathering two children in another state! Holy Cow! The Father is a FATHER!

Now, I’m not condemning him in anyway here. I believe that priests should be able to marry. It would give them a better clue as to what their parishioners’ lives are like. Plus it would probably lessen their ‘urges’ to introduce the “Church Body” to unsuspecting children.  But damn, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for the Bishop’s quarterly performance review.

Pope; “So uh....Gabino, how’s it going over in the States?”

Gabino: “Fine Holy Father. How’s things here in Rome?”

Pope: “Good thanks. I hate this Roman weather though. The Vatican, she’s drafty you know?”

Gabino: Yes, I do.

Pope: “So uh... listen. Overall, things are looking pretty good out there in LA. Donations are up sixteen percent, attendance could come up a wee bit though. And JUST WHO THE HELL IS THIS WOMAN WHO BORE TWO OF YOUR CHILDREN?”

Gabino: “Uh....yeah...about that.”

Pope: “Are you nuts? Have you gone insane? Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to do that? Please tell me these were immaculate conceptions, so I can at least spin the miracle thing with the press!”

Gabino: “Uhhh.... no. I wish I could say they were, but...

Pope: “You wish, you wish. Now what do I do? You were going places kid. I had a nice diocese all picked out for you at the Jersey Shore and you go and blow it, big time! Now get out of here before I circumcise you with my Swiss Army Knife!

Gabino: “But Your Highness, I mean Godfather... no... Crap... Holy Father...please...”

Pope: “OUT!”

Now that, of course, was a dramatization, but I’ll bet it wasn’t far from the truth. By the way, former Bishop Zavala wasn’t the only one with a secret family. According to the same article, the late leader of the Legionairies of Christ religious order, Father Marcial Maciel (didn’t he play sax in the late James Brown’s band?) committed the same offense, although it wasn’t discovered until after his death. Dan Brown, are you listening? There is a book here somewhere for sure!

Bottom line is; let these poor guys get married already!

Finally, I saw the premiere of ABC Television’s Work It last night, and I can proudly say that I was spot on in my prediction that it would be an utter bomb. But don’t believe me; instead, I’ve taken the liberty of lifting a portion of the review from a professional TV critic at IGN.com. Ready?

Advance Review: Welcome to the absolute end of civilization.

Apparently if you've ever written for the hit NBC series Friends, like Work It creators Andrew Reich and Ted Cohen, you're now an untouchable monster who can throw whatever pigs*** you want up on the screen. I joked with some folks early on, after initially watching the pilot for ABC's abysmal sitcom Work It last summer, that this show was on the air because someone high up on the TV food chain either won a bet against someone who loves television or lost a bet against someone who hates it. Now, after re-watching the pilot again (I have my own masochistic issues, btw) I can firmly say, without fear of contradiction, that this series has damning apocalyptic undertones.

As the first property (that I could find) to get a perfect "0" score from IGN since 1998's controversial Olympic Hockey Nagano '98 review, Work It is hyperbole-proof. I cannot over-emphasize enough how much this show is a freakish, insulting abomination. It thuggishly offends on so many levels that it's hard to even remain clear-headed enough to piece together a simple review of an episode that deals with two men who dress like women to get jobs.

Being a bit of a launch pad for Tom Hanks and (to a lesser launching extent) Peter Scolari, Bosom Buddies is a fondly (?) remembered goof of an 80's sitcom that featured Hanks and Scolari dressing up like gals to live cheaply in a "females-only" hotel. It's not classic TV by any stretch of the term, but many will say that Hanks gave a flashy enough performance for him to stand out and "elevate" the material; base "gender slapstick" material which is now semi-forgiven because it was 30 years ago. ABC will argue that Work It merely honors that show and that crude tradition, but what they're leaving out of the hype is that Work It will also make you want to go travel in time and execute the person, or people, who invented broadcast entertainment.  

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat! Abbondanza!

  

    

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