All I want for Christmas...

Let's give the guy his due, Michael Vick has been a good boy this year.  He's having a stellar season at QB for the Eagles, not to mention the fact that he hasn't engineered a single multi-level animal brutality organization in years.  I think Santa needs to take note of that.
Recently Vick told ESPN about one thing that he really wants, and it's something he may want to consider jotting down on the old Christmas wish list, because like so many other little boys Mikey just wants a puppy.
That got me thinking what else might be on the wish lists of some fairly newsworthy folk:

- Ben Roethlisberger wants "breaking out your penis in public" to be considered a legitimate courtship technique.
- Mel Gibson wants his career back on track... oh and also for Hollywood to not be so "Jewy."
- Charles Manson wants to have jailhouse slumber parties without the warden always giving him shit about what he's doing in a "group meeting."
- The country as a whole wants Willow Smith forced back into Jada's womb.
- Marv Albert wants, just once, to solicit a prostitute without being pestered about that "whole back biting thing."
- Eddie Murphy wants to stop making bad movies even though they feel sooooo good.
- Tiger Woods wants it to not burn so much when he pees, and for his 4 iron to stop giving him head wound flashbacks.
- Roman Polanski wants to leave film behind and become a middle school teacher.

This is likely my last post until the new year so enjoy your holidays everyone, and I hope you get whatever asinine and undeserving gift you're asking Santa for this year you jerk... Merry Christmas!

A sad state of affairs

In the months since I moved to Los Angeles I have decided to become a proxy Clippers fan because let's face it, they need it (plus this poor bastard could really use the help).  The fact is the Clippers are a young talented team on the rise but they are treated like wild-eyed, patchy furred, stray dogs here in LA.  I mean, I know it's a Lakers town but the extremity is hard to believe.  It's basically like the Clippers are LA's second child but they have only one bedroom, so rather than having them share they just sent them down to the basement and feed them fish heads through the laundry chute.  It's sad.
I don't blame it entirely on the people of LA though, it mostly falls on the Clippers losing culture.  For example, while watching the Clips-Sixers game last night it came to my attention that Clippers basketball is now brought you by, and I shit you not for my 7 readers must trust in me, Aladdin Bail Bonds.  Now I took my time in formulating an eloquent response to this and here's what I came up with: Are you fucking kidding me??  Were the people at Jafar's Loan Sharking not interested?  Couldn't land a deal with Genie Septic?  Come on Clippers, you gotta help me out here.  I'm not even asking that you win games.  Let's just take baby steps and maybe make your broadcasts semi-respectable, then we'll worry about basketball.
Listen, LA is a city full of transplants.  Many outsiders who I'm sure must be just aching to root for a team that doesn't have some dude Euro-flopping all over the Staples Center.
So step it up Clip-joint.  Make it happen.

Greatest headline ever?

It's hard to believe this is actually a story and not a crazy acid dream the producers of Entertainment Tonight had, but evidently it really happened.  So yeah, here it is:

Wolverine busts eye socket on Oprah's Australian zip line

Time for a radiation super-vacation!

This is an open letter to all parents: Prepare yourselves.

Because this summer, when your kids are begging to go to the latest, greatest vacation destination their petitioning won't be for a trip to Disneyland, or a journey to Six Flags, or even a jaunt to Sesame Place.  In fact if I were you I'd speak to your travel agent now while there's still time, because the heart of every child will compel them to see but one magical place this year... CHERNOBYLLLLL!!!
Yes you heard right, Ukraine is finally opening to the public the long-sequestered fun factory that is the site of the massive 1986 nuclear meltdown.  Now 2011 will officially mark the year that Chernobyl stopped being thought of as an "exclusion zone of post apocalyptic hell which no man, woman or child should ever lay eyes upon" and became the hottest (at least in terms of Geiger count... that's right, I know science stuff) vacation destination the world has ever seen.
So book now, because tickets are going faster than the shortened life spans of the surrounding area's severely poisoned wildlife!

Should I stay or should I go?

If ever he was looking for a sign from the heavens on whether or not he should retire, I think now is the time for Brett Favre to look skyward. Because in perhaps the greatest possible physical culmination of the epic collapse that has been Brett Favre's 2010 season, the stadium he calls home has actually collapsed.
The roof on the Metrodome gave way to the masses of snow that sat upon it on Sunday morning, postponing the Vikings-Giants showdown and sending a literal sign from above that Brett Favre needs to stop playing football forever.  Basically, the only way this could be any clearer would be if God himself sent Favre a cell phone picture of his penis along with the message "God-dong says it's time to hang 'em up."  And if Brett tries to start tonight's game, that very well could happen, so keep your eyes peeled for sexts from heaven.

Back to school...

Whether you're a young woman, another young woman, a slightly older young woman, or a terrifying ghost-cowboy, it's never too late to continue your education.  Government grants are available at an all-time high for popular programs such as business administration, nursing, high-noon dueling and varmint eradication.

Yo Adrian...... I'm a real-live boy!!!

Sylvester Stallone was voted into the boxing hall of fame yesterday and it brings about so many questions.  None more concerning than whether or not people have lost sight of the fact that Rocky and the subsequent sequels (or filmic shitbombs as I like to refer to them) were NOT REAL.

It's bad enough that Philadelphia erected a statue of the fictional character, which should command roughly the same amount of respect as this (how about devote your statue making to REAL people who EARNED the right to be immortalized?  Like Stalin), but now Rocky is in the boxing hall of fame?
I give it no more than 10 years until all the children of the world genuinely think Rocky was totally real, like I did for the first 23 years of my life with Kokomo (damn you and your vivid, lyrical painting Beach Boys).

Advertising Genius

If it's your job to market possibly the most unmarketable experience in the world, going to the dentist, where do you even start?  Right here, that's where:

"Do you hate the dentist?  Oh, that's cool..... you wanna get high??

DONE.

Little weird?

So there is apparently a neighborhood in Los Angeles called "Little Ethiopia," and I'd just like to be the one to pose this question: Why?
Is it because the first one is so amazing someone just thought; "I must find a way to replicate this"?
I dunno, just seems a little unnecessary to me. Anyway, I gotta run.  I'm meeting a friend for lunch in Little Detroit in 20 minutes.

Uncle Shredder?

Wow.  I don't even now what to say, but thanks to the intrepid researching/apparent free time at work of one Patrick Finnegan, I have officially been mindblown.
It turns out that veteran actor James Avery actually played not one, but two of my favorite characters of all time, and I had no idea.  Yes apparently the man who killed on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air as Uncle Phil was also the voice of the Shredder, resident badass of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!  And guess what?  I don't care if you're as impressed by this as I am, because this revelation has made my month... nay my year.
This moment has officially supplanted the day I realized Mr. Feeny was the voice of Kitt from Knight Rider.
Just when I thought I couldn't love Uncle Phil any more, this happens. Thank you Gods of television (and Pat) for this wonderful gift you have bestowed upon me.

Return of the King(?)

With tonight marking LeBron James' first trip back to the town he spurned (or totally and completely heart-raped on national television, depending on who you ask), there's a lot of talk of how the city of Cleveland will react.  There is so much worry in fact, that increased security will be present at Cleveland's (historic) Quicken Loans Arena.
In honor of the event, I have come up with a little wish list of the top 5 greatest things that could possibly go down during tonight's LBJ-Cleveland reunion.  Because if any of this does happen, I want written proof that I saw it coming:

- Taking advantage of his team's night off, Boston guard Delonte West shows up courtside with a hot, and oddly familiar date.
- A man wearing this outfit sneaks into the locker room and takes a pregame dump in LeBron's sneakers.
- While LeBron shoots his free-throws they play this gem of a Simpsons clip on the jumbotron.
- When his name is announced during pregame introductions the entire arena goes completely silent, except for one guy who bellows "Diiiiiiick, dick-dick diiiiiiick."
- Just before the opening tip, Cleveland native and current Price is Right host Drew Carey runs out to midcourt and punches James square in the balls as they play this sound effect over the P.A.

Royally Awkward

So I don't know if you've caught this story yet, but check out the super-graphic engagement present from one Sir Snoop Doggy Dogg to the soon to be wed Prince William.
It's more than a little weird that Snoop was compelled to even give a gift to the royal family, but when you actually listen to the song he offered don't worry, it gets a whole lot weirder.  It's not that Snoop's heart wasn't it the right place, it's just considering that it will now be associated with a Royal Wedding the song he wrote is kind of... um... fucking filthy. Let me put it this way, I feel a little ashamed to even type some of the lyrics.
But I will say this, I can't help but wonder if as we speak the Queen Mother may be booty clapping in her royal quarters while Snoop's chorus begs of her the philosophical question: "Can you drip for me mommy?"