Tag Archives: politics

Obama O’Clock

obama-smoking

First smoker president, I bet

Well, we did it. Not me, I mean. I didn’t do anything except create viral ideas and launch them into the blogmosphere, like any patriotic young American would have done in my stead. Now it’s all over but the screaming — and boy, is there a lot of screaming! The entire borough of Brooklyn (well, everything north of Division Avenue and the BQE, which is as far as I was willing to bike drunkenly in circles in the rain for the last two hours) has devolved into one hugging/honking/shouting “woo” at passers-by festival, which is just terrific fun. There was one black person at the bar, and all the hipsters kept spontaneously hugging her, which must have gotten awkward after Hour Six. But it’s okay to be patronizing when shit is awesome.

Think of it! Although my loudly pronounced prediction that Obama would win Georgia did not, so much, pan out, I am fairly confident that (1) Sarah Palin will be on The View by next fall (2) I am going to get so sick of looking at photos of Jesse Jackson crying and (3) everything is perfect forever.

This was a good night. Beer was half off (yo, Miller High Life for $1.50 within the five boroughs, you can’t even get that kind of deal in Real America), everyone was optimistic, and the most conservative guy in the bar had voted for Obama — but got pissy when people booed McCain, which in Brooklyn places you somewhere to the right of 99% of the population, who are in favor of booing and of throwing batteries at the Democratic caucus because they won’t impeach the other 42 senators and all that. But hey. We’re excited. Look. Barack Obama stands for a better America. An America where anyone can make out with Katherine Heigl, if they want. Our long national hangover begins apace in the morning — when we realize that, despite how bitchin’ this all is, we are still completely fucked — but for now I’m going to bed in a good mood. SO LONG, HATERS! See you in 2012, when the remainder of Obama’s hair will no doubt have turned that sad grey color that most of it already is.

244082katherine-heigl-posters

“I voted for John McCain, but only because I can’t afford the
airfare to Brooklyn to make out with random bloggers”

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Filed under brooklyn, general complaints, obama, politricks, real life, Uncategorized, Zach

Back-to-back action!

Oh hey everyone, welcome to our blog! We used to write in here all the time! And we will again! Soon! Maybe now! Whatever! I have something fucking important to talk to you about!

Oh hey, what’s up, we’re just leaning on this oval.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I bring your memory back to the ONLY adventure TV series made in the United States SINCE 1979. If you didn’t watch the Action Hour back in 2000, when I was 14 and way too impressionable to be watching a show like this on an 11″ TV on the floor of my room upstairs, let me briefly spell out what my weekends were like back at the very end of the Clinton administration for you.

The first half of the action hour: Jack of All Trades. This is a show where Bruce Campbell is a CIA agent from the 18th century or something, and catches Ben Franklin with whores, and whatever it’s not really all that important. It’s just Bruce Campbell walking around, probably making Evil Dead references, I don’t remember for like half an hour. Whatever. There are Napoleon jokes. It’s on first, so you have to watch it. It’s the same reason I watched Sesame Street when I was a kid — because it was on before Cleopatra 2525! Wait, no, I mean Carmen Sandiego. Wearing some sort of halter corset thing and a bottle blonde.

This took forever to Photoshop — so APPRECIATE IT!
Also, like half the Google Image matches for Carmen are
slutty and from deviantART. Whatever.ALSO FURRIES

VROOM VROOM I’M RUNNIN OVER YOU SQUIRREL

BTW, read the Carmen Sandiego (character) Wikipedia article. Holy dick. Here’s a completely non-fake excerpt:

In the latter seasons of the show, Carmen began to be portrayed as more of an anti-hero than a proper villainess, even teaming up with the show’s protagonists to defeat criminals more unscruplous than herself on several occasions. Additionally, it was made clear that she makes a point of refusing to steal something if the theft will cause anybody harm — a vow she frequently breaks outside this canon.

[Editor’s note: When I started writing this article, I didn’t realize Carmen Sandiego was such a ridiculous sex object for prepubescent nerds, but the Internet has quickly proved me wrong. THANKS, JACKASSES.]

The next show, in case you have some weird style of reading where you skip every third sentence, was Cleopatra 2525!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let me FILL YOU IN! stripper goes under the knife for a boob job! There’s an anesthesia accident! She wakes up in the future! The future is inhabited entirely by hot girls and evil, Matrix-style robots. In fact, it’s possible the Matrix ripped off this show. Also, when I say “hot girls” I mean “sorta hot, considering this show was on at 3 PM on Saturdays in summertime during a recession. Also it was the ’90s.”

A standard episode of the show goes as follows: they FIGHT the robots, the robots OVERPOWER them, they run AWAY (probably in slow motion) to their UNDERGROUND CAVE, and then recuperate and make stupid jokes. Periodically, the robots are defeated by doing pole dances and stuff. I’m not kidding. Somebody actually greenlit this. (BTW, if I ever start my slightly exploitative TV network, I will make a million dollars — it’s called the “a bunch of girls making out” network. We’ll play reruns of this show during commercial breaks. It will be on basic cable. I will be so rich. So rich. Explain to me why this idea wouldn’t work. I goddamn DARE you.)

An additional problem with this show: why the hell are they bothering to fight these robots? One of the premises of the show is that they’re the entire human race, and there’s only four characters. And only one of them is a dude, and he’s not even that important… what are they going to do, repopulate the earth? Gross. Come to think of it, this was also a problem with the MatrixMORE PLAGIARISM!!!

But this isn’t what I’m here to talk to you about — I’m here to talk once more about politics! Using Cleopatra 2525 references! (You can tell this is a reasonable transition, because of that clever Bill Clinton segue in the second paragraph!) But only for about ten seconds. I’m a values voter, folks. Shows like this offend me, because one of my values is potential profit value. And the fact that the Back-to-Back Action Power Hour Extravaganzawhatever got shafted so badly is just ridiculous. (Another one of my values: punctuality. I will vote for whichever candidate airs Cleopatra and is on time for all their campaign events. I don’t think that’s so much to ask.)

Did that paragraph feel SHOEHORNED IN to you? Start your own blog where you capitalize whenever you feel like it! Jackass!

P.S. If you’re really into Cleopatra 2525 (who isn’t?) there is apparently a play-by-email RPG. Man, remember when the Internet had crap like this all over the place? That’s amazing. Whatever, bye.

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Filed under general complaints, politricks, real life, tv, Zach

I’m Running For Vice President

THIS AMUSING BLOG POST BROUGHT TO YOU BY CHURCHSIGNGENERATOR.COM, WHICH GAVE ME A SACK FULL OF $20 BILLS. PLEASE ENJOY A SERIES OF FAKE SIGNS AND SPEND MONEY ON THE INTERNET SHOPPING. DO IT.

Hello, my friends! My mayoral campaign, I’m sad to say, is sort of screwed. Bloomberg’s officially running for a Mussolini-esque third term, and I can’t bring myself to vote for any of those other d-bags — or to run as a Republican. Or a Working Family. My friends, there’s only one way Bloomberg can be stopped from running this city, and that’s when he returns to his home planet in an extremely expensive rocket — after denying for weeks that he’s been building a secret launchpad.

I can’t compete.

Anyway, let me pretend to totally change the subject so I can subtly bring it back to the main point. OK. Ready? My friends, did you see what Google did today? They were kind enough to bring back the Google from 2001, which is amazing and lets you track down all kinds of fascinating facts. Do you know how many hipsters there were in Bushwick in 2001? There were seven. Lindsay Lohan is still adorable, and her actual website only has 81,000 hits. I think this blog has had 81,000 hits today. Plus it looks like she designed it herself. Good god, the Internet used to be adorable. And have no more than five pages on any given topic.

But here’s what’s important. Try typing in “Sarah Palin”. Go ahead. I’ll wait. Or just click on the link.

Done?

Did you click it? Click it.

Did ya?

ZERO HITS. Zero. 000000000zero. Type my name in. I’ll wait. Check it out — I’ve got some hits, and I’m FOURTEEN YEARS OLD! (In 2001 I was, I mean. Now I’m 13 going on 30! Which, by the way, was still being written then.) Who was she? What was she doing? How do we even know she was a real person? You can tell I was flesh and blood in 2001, my friends, because I played in a chess tournament. (And went 0-7-1, jerks, now who’s the intellectual?!?) WTF. Did Alaska not have computers in the 90s? (Seriously. I’m really not sure.)

Well, fuck that! My friends, from now on, I’m running for vice president. After all, I’m a national superstar by 2001 standards. Just write me in. Or check Cynthia McKinney, because I’m already her VP candidate anyway. Down with everything! See you at the polls. Bring money.

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I Threw Up In My Mouth A Little

You know, I don’t really like to discuss politics. Sure, like most Americans, I guzzle Internet blogs and network news the way my car guzzles biodiesel. The way I drink Gatorade before I go do rugged outdoorsy things on my farm. The way my mortgage guzzles up all my savings. But I don’t really like to talk about politics unless somebody asks. Or if there’s a rally. Or if I’m sitting next to a stranger on the subway who looks like they need to hear my opinion. Thing is that every four years (except ’96 I guess) all of a sudden there’s nothing else to talk about.

John McCain is that wizard guy from the last Matrix movie.

My lovely co-blogger had an interesting experience yesterday, which it’s my privilege to relay to you. (Hopefully you weren’t going to blog about this too, Honor! KTHXBAI) After the barista handed over her morning coffee, she went to get a straw. The barista: “No time for a straw! Run, before you’re locked in!” Confusion ensued. As it turned out, Sarah Palin was crossing the street nearby, or some such BS, and the Secret Service had decided that this necessitated locking the doors at Starbucks for several minutes.

A quick “community moment” ensued. “God, Sarah Palin is just awful,” somebody said, and everyone else nodded and made agreeing noises. Honor’s analysis: “Well, when an entire Starbucks in Manhattan is against you, there’s no way you’ll ever succeed in America!” As New Yorkers, despite the fact that we are probably the most diverse group of people in the world — and the fact that, as a result, we all hate each other with a burning fury that makes, say,  forming an ORDERLY LINE to buy drinks at the BAR you STUPID ASSHOLES, impossible — it’s important to remember that we somehow emerge from this festering rage-stew with this weird left-wing consensus that practically everyone in the city agrees on. That’s why, periodically, we have to broadcast our political views to the remainder of the country so that we can be reminded that nobody else believes in them, not even a little.

In other words, it’s important to occasionally succumb to the urge to get down and throw a little mud. Start calling yourself a hockey mom. Overuse the term “Main Street” in economic analysis. It’s a healthy outlet for urges that would otherwise make me punch babies. But we have a serious problem, ladies and gentlemen. The state of political discourse is cratering, to quote Letterman’s unbelievably awesome seven-minute new-butt-ripping of McCain. Here’s why.

This weekend, Barack Obama will apparently be having a debate with an empty chair, as John McCain will apparently be too busy fixing the economy with his BARE HANDS or something. In the morning, USA Today will run an article saying that Middle America really identified with the chair, which was made of a sturdy mahogany with a subtle grain, and not Barack Obama — who was, if I’ve been reading the news correctly for the last four years, slurring his answers on account of his mouth will be full of pâté and cognac and sleeping with your daughter when you’re not home. Fox may accidentally report that he was wearing a lapel pin with the Iranian flag and set fire to a bald eagle. This shit, in a word, is fucked up.

So it is with a heavy heart that I tell you today: I am suspending my political blogging activities and catching the next flight to Washington, where I will remain until I have personally resolved this election. (Note to Secret Service wiretap agents reading this: Not in the way you’re thinking!) This is not a time to be a blogger — it’s a time to be a leader. P.S., see me on Katie Couric tonight! I’ll be wearing rouge. Don’t tell Dave, ‘kay?

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Filed under manhattan, politricks, real life, Uncategorized

When The Real Bill Clinton Comes Back

Quick political minute: WTF happened to Bill Clinton? Do you know? Does anyone? There’s something missing from the air, and it’s the sound of alto sax! And soprano sex! (Gennifer Flowers might have been a tenor, I don’t care)

Remember when Clinton could turn the world on with a smile? I’ve been that world. My brother had leprosy, but Bill Clinton touched him and now he is an astronaut. One time Bill Clinton said the word “Middle East” by accident and nothing blew up for nine whole months, anywhere. My mother had a goiter the size of a baby’s fist, but Bill Clinton came along, and do I even have to tell you what happened?

That’s right. Astronaut.

But lately the magic is gone. Bill Clinton just sorts of walking around looking pudgy and sweaty and insulting people and saying awkward things. Good presidents don’t say awkward things! Good presidents paint my house for me! Hell, even George Bush painted my house for me, but then he only made it halfway up and got bored. I gave him a glass of lemonade, but he fell asleep on the lawn. He snores like a motherfucker. Where was Bill Clinton? Not helping me out in my time of need, that’s for sure.

So what the hell happened? Was it the move to the suburbs? The gimmicky Harlem office? Not being president anymore? None of these things, my friends. There is only one explanation.

Bill Clinton has been replaced by a sophisticated robot. You don’t believe me? Look at his stiff motions. His lack of charisma. One time he referred to his daughter as a “fork” and his wife as “Other Robot R-662-A-B.” Those were enough to make me suspicious.

So I took action. Dressed all in black, I snuck quietly into the recess behind the podium at an underattended rally and made my way to the former president’s side. I whispered into his ear. What happens next should be obvious: I made Robot Bill Clinton explode, simply by saying the special command “notnilC lliB.”

Where’s Arsenio Hall to save us now? Oh, that’s right, there no longer is an Arsenio Hall. But never fear! The real Bill Clinton will arrive shortly, in a spaceship, hovering in a beautiful pillar of pure light. He’ll raise his hand and say “I did not say all those things about Barack Obama,” and we’ll all have a lively discussion about what “say” means, and then we’ll sort of just not fight in wars for ten years. And I’ll get a job that doesn’t involve knowing how those frozen hamburgers that come in a box are made. (Hint: It doesn’t make you want to eat them.)

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