Oh man, was I ever excited for the Oscars this year. OH WAIT I DIDN’T WATCH ANY OF THE MOVIES ELIGIBLE. Actually, I saw Mad Max, it was amazing – it had less dialogue than a black and white French film, but with lots of shooting, fighting, car chasing and ass kicking. I’ll pick that for everything.
I actually hate awards shows. Especially the Oscars. Entitled, overpaid self important asshats telling everyone how important their issues are, because after all, they were in a movie and have an honorary degree from some university that wanted some press. Here’s some examples of the horseshit.
1) Hollywood got called on its BS for pretty much making the Oscars all white every year. I honestly have no idea if the best nominees were white, but they tried to slap a band-aid on it by finally bringing Chris Rock back into the fold. Well, that wasn’t obvious pandering – nice sly move, Academy.
2) A lot of them are calling for gun control. Never mind that they have armed guards protecting them and the average movie coming out of Hollywood would be twenty minutes shorter without guns. It’s like the porn industry promoting abstinence. Don’t worry, I’m sure climate change will be brought up by an actor who will then retreat to a private jet or mansion with a carbon footprint 25 times the size of the car you drive to work or your 2 bedroom apartment. I really do loathe these people.
3) I tried watching Oscar winning movies when I had a Blockbuster pass back in the day. I saw Harvey Keitel’s ass in the Piano. I can’t unsee that and now Hollywood can kiss mine.
The internet is how most people get their news these days, so thankfully it’s very important headlines popping up. Here’s the best of this week~
“U.S. may formally charge ISIS with genocide.” YES! That will show them. Sure, they sell girls into sex slavery, behead other religions (and their own, actually), set people on fire, and mass execute children and the elderly, but they have yet to feel the terrible swift sword of justice that is the accusation of something they are proud to do. Wait a minute…
“Sanders has 30 point lead over Clinton in West Virginia and here’s why that matters” which was next to “Clinton will close out Sanders in South Carolina.” (Whispering) It seems these political articles have agendas or something. SHHHH!!!
“Rescued Swedish girl says life under Islamic State ‘really hard'”. See the paragraph from earlier. And to think, I thought it was all dance parties and ponies.
“When plastic surgery goes too far.” There was a picture of a guy trying to look like Superman. No need to read, I got it.
“Is Trump unstoppable? Former Huckabee senior adviser weighs in.” Yes, finally, an adviser from the five term president Mike Huckabee to drill this Trump phenomenon down.
I think I’m done with the news for a while. If you are too and in Columbus Feb. 26, come out to Rehab Tavern for a free comedy show at 8pm! On another note, I would like to thank everyone who read my last blog. It was hard to write, out of the ordinary from my comedy writing and very important to me. It is the most read blog I have ever done in five years and the feedback I got was and will always be very appreciated.
I’ll just warn anyone, this isn’t funny. It’s not for laughs, it’s for me. I got a call in 2004 from my mom that they found a Golden Retriever wandering the neighborhood and wanted to know if I wanted to take in a dog. I somehow got convinced to do it and man, was he in bad shape. Fully grown, but under 50 pounds (supposed to weigh 85-90) – I could count every rib and vertebrate on him. So I named him Stringbean (obviously) Staley (after Layne from Alice in Chains – looked like a smack addict) Coen. He was scared of absolutely everything. I picked up a mop one day and he ran behind the couch and was shaking. It became pretty obvious that even though he was housebroken and never, I mean never barked, he had been abused. He was even scared of a new street sign they put up outside my condo for over a month and jumped in my bathtub during storms.
I got him fixed up and he finally started acting like a dog. Every day I came home he would tear ass from the door back to my bed and start flipping back and forth with excitement. Either he was happy to see me or he really had to piss, not sure. We would run almost every day for years together until some asshole turned me into the board for not having him on a leash. I hope Bean left a nice loaf on her porch. So we had to walk with a leash after that.
Bean was pretty simple too. His favorite game was to slap box then rub his ears and make some growling noise. I can’t tell you how many hours I passed slap boxing with the big dummy and telling him he better toughen up or get a job and help out with the bills. He ran into walls sometimes because he got so excited to play. I think I ended up calling him Dummy or Stupid more than Bean, but he didn’t seem to care. That dog followed me everywhere. If I went to the bathroom, he would come over and wait by the door. Clearly, his nose didn’t work well.
Christmas at Grandma’s
No person went on as many comedy road trips with me as that dog did (and parties too). He about got attacked by a white trash family’s pit bull at a show in Indiana (comedy hotels aren’t usually five star, thus the bringing of dogs), we stayed in a room that had carpet that looked like putt putt green in northern Michigan and I tried to sneak him into the Greenbriar Casino in West Virginia. Smartly, they didn’t let me stay there anyways, they were very perceptive putting me up in a Knights Inn nine miles away. Bean and I had some bones and Busch Lights and listened to Iron Maiden. Screw you, fancy hotel – you were right not to let me stay, but screw you.
Trip to Kentucky
Starting about two years ago, he really started showing signs of aging. He’s overcome a mast cell tumor, being bitten by a put bull mix, and even eating a special flea collar that I thought for sure was going to kill him the summer before our wedding. A girl at my first Halloween party in 2004 gave him four jello shots and I thought he was going to die that night. I tossed that dunce out my front door and threatened to burn down her apartment if my buddy didn’t make it. He never liked Halloween, but it may have been the costumes.
It’s been different lately though. It has been absolute hell, despite medicine and vet care, watching my dog that used to sprint out 100 yards in front of me fall down sideways trying to stand up to go outside. He still liked to play, but I had to pick him up off the ground a dozen times a day. He started falling down while going to the bathroom and the tops of his feet are cut from dragging his feet under him. I thought back to when I found him and he was abused. I know it’s not possible, but I would love to find the guy in Zanesville that was beating him in 2004 and take out every ounce of rage I’ve ever felt flow through my veins.
His decline and looming death have ravaged me like a cold fire. attacking me and leaving empty spaces. I would look out my window and see someone walking a young healthy dog and my whole body would slump. Someone at work would bring up their pets and my breath would get short. I started thinking constantly about if I did enough or was kind enough to my buddy. I couldn’t go an hour without the misery washing over me and I fought to supress it over and over. He would fall down in the back yard and I would beg him to get up, it was just a slip, not his hips. I knew it wasn’t though.
When I got Bean, I didn’t even have the internet at home; now I run a website. I had three grandparents and an uncle that have aren’t with us anymore. I hadn’t even met my wife and wouldn’t for six years. My car has almost 200,000 miles on it and I’ve had him over four years longer than that. I had only done standup one time at a restaurant for less than two minutes; now I’ve written a comedy book and traveled the country. Hell, he was even the star of some internet sketch videos. If you knew me, you knew my old pal Bean. That silent, skittish, loving and loyal red dog that everyone just loved to pieces. When I came home from funerals, bad days, lost jobs, or terrible shows, he was there. He never asked why I was the way I was or was unhappy to see me. Even at the end, when he couldn’t get up, he finally made noise. He would whine when I was out of sight, even in the other room, because he couldn’t see his old master. He couldn’t get up anymore to follow me around. It just broke my heart.
Michigan trip
I’m not big on Rainbow Bridges or all dogs go to heaven, but if that makes people feel better, it’s a good thing. I just know this – when you pass away, some say the endorphins release into your brain and you relive the best moments of your life in that short time which feels like a lifetime all over again. I would get to hold my daughter for the first time again in that hospital room, wake up with my wife that first morning at the winery in San Gimignano, see my relatives and laugh on Christmas again and relive a couple nights sitting around a table with my buddies listening to the same music over and over, insulting the shit out of one another and telling the same stories we’ve told a million times. In those final moments, I know I’ll have a spot in my best memories for Bean, running once again out in front of me, rolling around and swatting at me or just sticking his head out of my window as I drive down the road. Or maybe at the end, when I read this to him and let him know it was OK. Today I have to say goodbye to him.
He loved peanut butter and bones and playing in the snow. He loved all people, familiar and strange. He shed like a yak and was clumsy as hell. He was a good rider in the car and was happiest with his head out of the window, no matter the temperature. Most of all, he loved following me everywhere like a bad fart and being petted or played with. He was my shadow. Your dad is very proud of you for trying to get up for me when you were weak and hanging on as long as you did. I will always love my sweet old Bean. You don’t have to hurt anymore, buddy, but this tired man sure is going to miss his friend.
I looked up VDay (don’t forget the ay or you’re going to vomit) to find out just why in hell this holiday exists. Don’t get me wrong, it’s legit, unlike Sweetest Day or the “we need to sell more cards and shit day” type holidays, but it’s actually a very romantic tale. Some guy named Valentine was marrying Christians in pagan Rome, which was a no no. He got told to stop, he didn’t, so he got beat to death with clubs by Roman soldiers. While awaiting this clearly fair sentence, he healed the jailer’s daughter of blindness and left a note saying, Your Valentine at the end. Then the clubbing. Sounds like love is in the air!
I got a very unique gift arrangement from my wife, plus she brought home dinner. We were also able to go out to a movie for the first time since our daughter showed up (Deadpool was playing near the house, also a tale of romance) and my wife did stand up for the first time for a show called Significant Others put on by the hilarious Tom Plute, who is appearing with me, Wonder Doug and Nickey Winkelman February 26 at 8 pm at Rehab Tavern – free show, 456 W. Town St., Columbus. The highlight though was this –
This is what my sweat smells like.
Now I can smell like Captain America, which in my head, I do all the time. Fireworks smoke mixed with bald eagle pheromones, with a dash of patriotism and freshly grilled hot dogs. That’s sexy. Plus if you spray it on an undercover Nazi spy, they burst into flames. Red, white and blue flames.
The Super Bowl is the biggest sports event in the country, arguably the world. It brings all kinds of attention and thus, ads. They cost a shit ton, so they’re supposed to good. Apparently, they’re also a topic people can tweet or comment about. And that’s where it gets dumb.
NARAL is a political organization that is very pro-choice. They chose to weigh in on the Super Bowl commercials, which is fine – welcome to Twitter and live tweets. Everyone from celebrities, politicians and comedians chime in during such events. Whatever your political affiliation though, their tweet caught my eye the next day.
To set it up, Doritos made a commercial where a dad is eating Doritos while his wife gets an ultrasound. The baby/fetus gets excited and follows the dad’s snack around, which angers the lady. She tosses the chip, which causes the baby to rocket out of the womb. This is what NARAL said – “#NotBuyingIt – that @Doritos ad using #antichoice tactic of humanizing fetuses & sexist tropes of dads as clueless & moms as uptight. #SB50”
Dads as clueless? OH MY GOD, I’VE NEVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING! WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS (Homer Simpson) WOULD EVER PORTRAY (Peter Griffin) DADS (Phil from Modern Family)…oh wait…I’m a dad and I couldn’t give a shit less. Has NARAL seen a commercial made in the last 15 years? King of Queens or 100 other sitcoms? Fat, bumbling dad, attractive wife, hearts of gold, it works out. I hate those corny ass shows, but I don’t toss and turn at night over them. Plus, a woman uptight during an ultrasound? The nerve of those sexist bastards!
The real issue I have with this tweet is the first part. #antichoice? Should Doritos have made a hilarious ad where the fetus is terminated? Would that be less offensive? Also, humanizing fetuses? I don’t know about you all, but I’ve about had it with these damn fetuses and their political agendas! It’s about time we stand up to the thought of a baby being born and put our feet down! By the way, NARAL; it’s a chip commercial. You hurt your cause, just like a right winger who points out how illegal immigration is hurting the economy, then tosses in the word wetback. Congrats, dummies, you’ve jumped the proverbial shark. Is that #antishark? Did I animalize sharks? OH GOD, NOW WHERE DO WE GO?
I would review the game, but ESPN will do that for another week straight. Let’s focus on the important stuff.
Most depressing fact? Mobile Strike the iPhone game makes enough money to pay for a Super Bowl commercial.
Lady Gaga did a great job on the National Anthem. Coldplay looked like they got dressed by a Lite Brite. Seriously, has any football fan ever pushed play on Yellow before the big game? Let me rephrase, has anyone ever pushed play on Yellow, or any Coldplay song, before anything?
Please stop with the commercials where someone is moving screens around with their hands like Iron Man in his lab. No one does that. I’m about to shave, let me shift this floating screen of my face off to the side and bring up a shaving cream graphic. Dumb.
Did the first Ninja Turtles movie actually turn a profit to justify a second one? Then again, they made a bunch the first time and they’re worse than watching the Blair Witch Project after a bat spin race.
Sorry Xifaxan, if I have chronic diarrhea, I’m not going to a football game with or without you.
I wish I could make as much and do as poor a job as a Super Bowl Ad Exec.
