Making The World Safe For Science - One Supermodel At A Time
The Second Coming Is Here
And no, I am not just some crazy guy standing on the street corner saying it. I know it must be true because Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie had a baby and they have decided it must be so.
This young girl ( a girl for a Messiah - how progressive ) is named Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt. Now, I have read the Old Testament. Still, I felt I needed to look it up just the same because a man of advancing years can't rely on great physique, good lucks and charm forever. Sometimes he needs facts and the only place to go for facts on the Old Testament is the Jews, since they wrote it. Sure as I am sitting here Shiloh still means Messiah. And Nouvel means new, at least if you make up your own spellings the way celebrities can.
So there you have it; New Messiah Jolie Pitt. Sleep easy, people. The genetically perfect creation of Pitt and Jolie was already going to have a God complex. Now she has a reason. She actually is God. I hope she likes science. Sorry about that global warming thing.
Hasbro Takes A Stand For Female Empowerment, Screws Scientists Of The Future
If by female empowerment you mean dressing like a tramp and doing what you can to be objectified by men, then the Pussycat Dolls are the perfect role model for your 6-year old. And Hasbro agreed and had those dolls ready to ship with a marketing blitz to youngsters on the way until a letter writing campaign by Brooklyn mom Lisa Flythe caused them to cancel the product line. Shame too. Scientists were looking forward to a whole generation of these Pussycat-Doll-educated girls coming of age in 2018.
Thanks for nothing, soccer moms. Next you'll be expecting your daughters to make it in this world based on their intellects.
Just because I have a Nobel Prize in Awesome doesn't mean I can't admit when I have made a mistake. What mistake could I possibly have made, you wonder?
I will tell you; Nick Lachey. Now, people who have known me a long time know two things that I know I know;
First, and foremost, is that you never cut a bi*ch too loose - but that is relationship advice for another day.
Second, and almost equally important, is that Nick Lachey is an idiot. Let's face it, Jessica Simpson is hot, she's rich, she sings, and she pretty much saved herself for him. And, in return for all that, he spent a lot of time crying and being sensitive and the only kinky thing he could find to do with this girl was wear her shoes.
Okay, so I have changed my mind about the second of those two things. I now do respect Nick Lachey. I didn't have much interest in them as a couple but that's mostly because I thought Nick and Jessica’s Christmas Special was the longest Old Navy commercial EVER - and I hate even short Old Navy commercials. I mistakenly thought he was the weak link. But look at his life since he got dumped. He is going to get half of her money and he has parleyed his heartbreak into fending off wave after wave of hot chicks trying to make him feel better. This kid's life is friggin' CandyLand, only with hot chicks instead of candy.
So, to help me keep track of all his chicks, I have invented Nick Lachey's CandyLand Game. More after this incredibly large, yet completely essential, graphic ( click on it to see full size):
Okay, so maybe being sensitive is the way to go here. Hey, I am sensitive too, people. I have cried - twice. Once, at the end of Ole Yeller when he dies, and once when my chick yelled at me for sleeping with her mother. But I eventually forgave her for yelling at me. So I am sensitive and I can let go of the hurt.
posted by Buckaroo at 7:41 AM
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Why does this happen every time we get a new villain? Terrorists have to be creepy Europeans now because it's not Politcally Correct to use Muslims. Yeah, we all know there are lots of Prussian Christian Fundamentalists blowing up stuff. You think Back To The Future would have been as funny if we had Germans yelling "Nach einem Bier, kannst Du in mein Mund pissen?" *
No, we needed Muslims in a VW Microbus yelling "Allah Akbar" and watching midget porn, or whatever they were doing in the back of that thing. Libyans. With Russian RPGs in hand. Trying to steal plutonium. Now that, my friends, was movie accuracy - especially that part about a time-travelling DeLorean.
But pesky albinos are upset that, in The Da Vinci Code, one of their kind is portrayed as the bad guy. They think it demeans their condition. Let me tell you, there are only a few groups in America that it's still okay to demean and I don't think albinos are among them. For the record the groups it is still okay to make fun of without lawsuits are; white men, skinny chicks, southern men and Catholics. If albinos want to be added in to this illustrious company, they have to earn it. So I did some quick research and could only find a few recent examples of where albinos were the creepy bad guys:
Okay, that's more than a few, especially considering a bunch more I never watched, but maybe that's just a recent fad. So I looked back to the 1970s ...
and a bunch more that I never watched. After that I stopped counting. Maybe they have a point. Still, in the course of all movies being made there has to be something different about the villain once in a while, so everyone should get tagged here and there. You don't see me complaining because lots of movie villains are white men. Besides, without albinos we wouldn't have had that Simpsons Halloween Special where Homer thinks Johnny and Edgar Winter are radioactive mutants and runs over them shouting, "Die, chalk-faced scum!" And you don't think those guys were in on the joke? You think they picked the last name 'Winter' by coincidence? And that song, "Frankenstein"??? Sheesh. At least people knew how to laugh at themselves in the '70s.
I think albinos need to shut their pale-faced pie holes and be happy they get any attention at all. If we didn't have albinos and skinny chicks then only southern men, white men and Catholics would be left to ridicule ... which means, me and about five other guys in America would take all of the smack.
Part 2: The Sexy Skeleton Zombies
Some guy named DJ A.M. ( seriously ) broke up with Nicole Richie because she's too thin. That's right, because she is too skinny. This girl's dad was a real musician and yet she dated this assclown who does nothing but queue up CDs - so, to me, a real charity case in the best of circumstances - and he dumped her. For being too thin. This baffles me. It's like telling a girl, "I have to break up with you because the sex is too good" or "You make pie crusts too well. See ya."
She is finally getting to look the way all women should look; like a sexy zombie skeleton. Or Rebecca Romijin, who made it back onto the interesting list because she likes it a little kinky. She used to look like this, but don't get too excited. There are plenty of convenient edits in X-Men 3 to hide the fact that she's no Nicole Richie these days:
Still, this blog is about who would win in a battle royale among two of the five most hated groups in America, skinny chicks or albinos. As a physics guru, I do a lot on computers so I wrote a simulator while watching Jackie Chan's New Police Story last night and the results ( click on it to see it full size) are here:
Looks like the albino bad guys are better after all - so they have that going for them. And if it happens to be a really white male who wins overall, so much the better for my gender. We have to do something to keep that glass ceiling in place.
* Okay, do not actually say that in Germany.
posted by Buckaroo at 7:03 AM
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I am sure there are vast tracts of America where being gay is still controversial, but I live in California. Want to be controversial here? Be a Republican. So Teri Hatcher making an allusion to the notion that the host of American Idol is gay isn't a surprise to me, much less a big deal. Why not a surprise? Dude buys his shirts from Baby Gap, that's why:
Seriously, I have never seen a heterosexual man wear such tight shirts. Even me. And we all know what an attention whore scientists are.
So Hatcher appeared on whatever show David Letterman hosts and, earlier, Dave had on some gag gifts to throw to moms for Mother's Day. One of those was a diamond-encrusted "I'm Gay" thingie as a gift idea. I know. Ha ha. That Letterman's still got it.
Letterman inquired about the 'break-up' with Seacrest. Teri has discussed this over and over and she has said the relationship pretty much consisted of one date and then he called her and said they couldn't see each other any more. But to Letterman she responded;
"I didn't think he was my type."
Letterman asked, "Whose type do you think he is?"
Hatcher answered, "I think there was a Mother's Day gift that he should buy," obviously referencing the "I'm Gay" whatzit.
What I don't understand is how he was able to escape her gaze at all, much less break up with her. Most men are turned to stone when they look in her eyes, because she is clearly wearing the Head of Medusa on her neck:
So I am looking at Sweety's copy of Entertainment Weekly. It has that Superman guy on the cover and he looks very pretty and airbrushed. I have been against this thing from day one because it isn't easy to find a good Superman and they picked this guy for the wrong reasons; namely, how his crotch looks. Most comic book fans are men ... and most men are heterosexual ... so, like the disaster that was George Clooney in Batman, making him gay will not appeal much to the fan base. It will just give me something to joke about for ten years.
"I am not sure this gay Superman thing is going to sell," I mutter. "Is he gay?" she asks. "Well, ... " She stops me. "I am looking for facts here, not 'Oh, they didn't pick me to be Superman so this guy must be gay.' "
Grrrr. I hate that kind of argument. Like I know any facts.
posted by Buckaroo at 2:38 AM
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The Spanish Celebrate Cinco de Mayo By Annexing Mexico
Presidente del Gobierno José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero of Spain said the Spanish Republic has decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo by revoking Mexican independence:
"It has always been a common misperception that the 5th of May is a celebration of Mexican independence from Spain. This is not correct, is is actually a celebration of victory over the French in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, but we know that no one can really be proud of defeating the French so the mistake is understandable. In truth, we never agreed to Mexican independence anyway so we are simply revoking it."
Reporters asked Zapatero how the Mexicans might react to claims they are still owned by Spain.
"We have been fascinated for some time by Mexican claims that California, for example, was stolen from them by America. We had California for 300 years and Mexico had it for 20. So in the spirit of fairness, we will also be annexing California.
"We wish the Mexicans a happy Cinco de Mayo. It was a great victory for Spain and we remain proud of it. We encourage our Mexican subjects to call the new governors we are sending from Spain traditional names like 'Don Raphael' and we ask you not to bother with the whole Zorro thing this time - unless it's that George Hamilton version. He was pretty good."
posted by Buckaroo at 7:35 AM
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Science Defends The Indefensible Position: Slappin' Your Ho
It may be indefensible but it wouldn't be a fun day if I didn't try and defend it for that very reason. Why bother, you ask? Sure, you're thinking 'he's the cracker mack daddy of science' so I never need to smack my b*tch up to get her to act proper, but this doesn't mean arguing the merits of the occasional love tap can't be valid as an intellectual exercise.
I am inspired by this topic because Sean Connery's ex-wife says he used to slap her around and if it's good enough for the original James Bond it is at least worth thinking about. Obviously publicists denied the whole thing ever happened and sometimes you have to go right to the source, so I called up Mr. Connery and asked how things were going with his current bride after three decades.
"She needs a firm rein," said Sir Sean, "I've whipped her when she was ripe for it, and it has settled her down nice and grateful for it. This isn't on the record, right?"
"No, Mr. Connery, my blog is nothing if not discreet."
That put him at ease and he expounded a little. He was quick to say you can't punch your chick like you would a man. "There's a difference," he said, "between firm and being the kind of creepy wife beater you and I would knock on his ass. And then there's sex."
That made sense to me, especially since someone as cool as Sean Connery made it sound like we were compadres. Wait, did he just say sex?
"Cash, a girl's bottom is a prime erogenous zone but the sexual arousal nerves in the bottom are buried in a layer of fat and require harder stimulation -- like in spanking -- to trigger them. You really should know all this. I have read your stuff. On your blog you always sound invincible."
His sarcasm didn't go unnoticed and I didn't have sex last night so my temper was short.* "Hey, I am not sure I have to take that crap from a guy who starred in Meteor."
"I nailed Natalie Wood every night during that shoot. Who have you done?
"I don't see how that is relevant ..."
"Easy, lad. All I am saying is I read that crap of yours about a line of women longer than the Wall of China and I am telling you, if you really want the chippies, star as James Bond in a movie some time."
"Cash, I have gone over this a million times. It was a different era. Before disco. We didn't have guys wearing gym shorts to go to clubs. Do you think Leo Sayer could have gotten a girl in the '60s?"
"No, you needed to be a man," he continued. "Sometimes there are women who take it to the wire. That’s what they are looking for — the ultimate confrontation. They want a smack. Don't tell me you've never done it."
"Well, my girl isn't from the '60s. I'm pretty sure she'd set me on fire if I did that."
"You never know, Cash. You never know. The divorce rate is probably a lot higher today because women don't respect men enough. A good ass whippin' might take care of some of that."
I thanked Sir Sean for his time but came away feeling like I hadn't come up with a slam-dunk defense for hittin' your chick. Plus, today isn't all bad. Today's youth don't wear gym shorts on television but they perfected the concept of "friends with benefits" and I think that is a reasonable trade-off. And I don't care who invented that whole Brazilian Wax thing, they pretty much deserve a Nobel Prize.
*How did I not have sex last night, you wonder? Sweety said she had an appointment with her gynecologist the next morning. "Do you have an appointment with your dentist too?" I asked. This was, apparently, not the appropriate response.
posted by Buckaroo at 7:34 AM
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Weddings are glorious things. There's never a greater sense of optimism than on a couple's first official day as man and wife. Optimism from everyone else, that is. The bride's nerves are usually frazzled and she's likely to be strung out like a Christmas tree from all of that preparation.
So the tiniest things can send her into a tailspin. If one thing goes wrong, a bride is disappointed and worried. If two things go wrong, she is probably livid. But if everything goes wrong I bet she just short circuits and forgets the entire day.
That last one was the weekend wedding we attended. I knew it would get interesting because the directions we printed off read like a Moebius Strip. "Take Highway X until it crosses Highway X." We tried one exit and were wrong but we had plenty of time. So we tried another exit and it seemed to be right.
Sweety points out a sign. "Look, there's even a sign."
"Where?" I can't see it. Oh, there it is. It's a notebook sized piece of paper. Someone has written in marker "C--- and S--- wedding" and taped it to a lamp post.
She looks at me. "I think we're overdressed."
***
I won't catalogue the entire list of things that went wrong at this wedding but it rained and things went downhill from there. They moved everything inside and the room was crowded and then they ran out of soda within ten minutes. So a guy who never acquired a taste for hooch is left without a lot of choices for amusement.
Even with the downpour we see people heading for the exit to go smoke outside. California, being filled primarily with health mullahs who not only want you to stop smoking but also need to make you repent for doing it, has made it as hard as possible on smokers. Smokers are truly ghetto-ized in California these days.
"I feel bad for smokers," Sweety says. "What more can they do to them?"
"I am opening a smoking club," I say.
"In California?" she asks. "How do you intend to accomplish that?"
"Well, how does Arnie get away with it? He smokes cigars all of the time."
"He sits in a tent on the lawn of the Capitol Building."
"He has to sit in a tent?"
"Yes. And he's the Governor. I am not sure how you are opening a smoking club when The Terminator has to sit in a tent."
"There has to be a loophole. Maybe it's because of having waitresses or something. They smoke in that cigar shop near the house. I'm telling you, I am opening a club where men can smoke cigars in big comfortable chairs and be served by scantily clad women."
"That just earned you a veto," she says.
"Why? Because of the chairs?"
"Yes," she replies. "The chairs are what got my attention."
I pull out my handy Treo and start thumbing the teensy keyboard.
"Who could you possibly be writing to?" she asks.
"I am writing to me," I say. "I am taking notes. I just don't have any paper with me."
"Let me see," she says.
So I did. And since she got to see the unedited notes on my phone in their raw form, I will let you - my blog reading public - see them also. Just this once:
lost her at chairs on the smoking club idea. scantily clad women not a factor. try again later. omit chairs.