Tag Archives: horrible human beings

This Just In: You’ll Always Be 13

We all have motifs that run through our lives, whether we realize it or not. I do realize mine, and I realized it a long time ago. It is the feeling of being completely out of my element. On a nearly daily basis, I find myself in a situation that comes out of nowhere and makes zero sense in the context of my experience and existence. As if the rules of The Universe were changed, and everyone received the memo but me.

I’d call this feeling Kafka-esque, except that it’s not confined to bureaucratic encounters. It can surface at any time, anywhere, for no reason at all.

Continue reading This Just In: You’ll Always Be 13

Charlie Sheen Is Mentally Ill. What’s Your Excuse?

I succeeded in not seeing Two and a Half Men for a very long time. I try not to judge things I haven’t experienced, but this was one of those rare instances where pre-judging seemed not only okay, but wise.

Some time last summer, I found myself in a Strauss waiting room as I got a new set of front tires. (Nothing’s too good for my 12-year-old Hyundai.) The TV in the waiting room was showing Two and a Half Men, and there was no way to turn it off or mute it. So I wound up consuming an entire episode. It was everything I thought it was and less.

It’s not so much that Two and a Half Men was unfunny, though it certainly was that. The show seemed to come from some place damaged and cynical. It wasn’t a comedy so much as a joke delivery system, as brutal and automated as a slaughterhouse. It was not created to be enjoyed, but accepted. The creators all but came out and said, Here’s some more slop, you pigs.

No wonder that Charlie Sheen lasted on the show for so long, even when committing heinous acts that get most people serious jail time. He was perfectly suited for a show that is a sitcom shell wrapped around professional contempt for the masses.

Charlie Sheen is mentally ill, seriously so. I have no doubt of that. He’s not ill to the point that he shouldn’t be held accountable for his actions, but he is ill enough that he’s incapable of getting help completely on his own. This should not be made light of, especially when such illness manifests itself in domestic violence.

And yet, somehow Charlie Sheen’s insane rants made him not a figure to be scorned or pitied, but cheered. His mantra of WINNING–clearly the last furtive sparks from his remaining, dying synapses–has already been beaten into the ground as an internet meme. He’s even been hailed as some sort of badass antihero by the Maxim/Axe Body Spray contingent because he does tons of blow and has lots of consequence-free sex with a porn stars, a notion crazier than Sheen himself.

Sheen is a vile human being. I have zero respect for someone who would kidnap a woman or threaten his spouse with a knife. But I think at least on some level, he can’t help it. Whether it’s chemical imbalance, dangerous levels of self delusion, the product of a Hollywood upbringing, or years of cocaine abuse, his brain does not function properly.

But most people’s brains do function properly. So why are we cheering on this monster? Why are we elevating his evasion of responsibility and judgment into a rallying cry for douchebags everywhere? (WINNING!) Even if you’re doing it ironically, you’re enabling him and giving him exactly what he wants: the validation needed to be a sociopath. It’s like handing matches and gasoline to a pyromaniac.

Is it because celebrity shenanigans are supposed to be funny? It seems like we put every famous person’s transgression on the same plane, and our reactions to them are always the same, that leering, Jay Leno-esque tone of Didja see what Madonna did yesterday? As if their sole purpose in life is to do something dumb so that we can mock them from down below. But when we do this, we equate, say, a Kardashian sex tape or a Lady Gaga meat dress with what Charlie Sheen has done in his life–particularly what he’s done to women. I find that sort of thinking morally bankrupt.

Mel Gibson–another man who is probably not right in the head–has no career, for all intents and purposes, because of hideously racist statements he made. And that’s perfectly fine by me. But whereas Gibson simply said horrible things, Sheen actually abused women. In the final analysis, which of these is worse? And yet, which one of these men is more likely to work again? The one who threatened the mother of his children with a knife but came up with the “hilarious” catchphrase WINNING.*

*UPDATE: As @metsgrrl pointed out, Mel Gibson actually did abuse his significant other. But the fact that we’ve all but forgotten that illustrates how easy it is to get away with violence against women.

Unless you are just as sick as Charlie Sheen, you have no excuse for celebrating him, and maybe you do deserve slop like Two and a Half Men.

Biggest Revelations from George W. Bush’s Memoirs

  • bushdecisionpoints.jpgHis mother, Barbara Bush, was one of the first proponents of the child rearing philosophies of David Cronenberg.
  • Of his seven siblings, only three were confined to jars.
  • At Harvard Business School, successfully defended his master’s thesis on why kegstands are awesome.
  • In 1972, while serving in the Air National Guard, thwarted an attempted Viet Cong takeover of a San Antonio-area Fiesta Mart
  • On 1973 through 1988: “FATAL ERROR; SOME DATA MAY BE LOST”
  • First act as president of the Rangers was to acquire a totally bullshit Texas accent.
  • Catapulted to the Texas governor’s mansion by promising to legalize the carrying of concealed flamethrowers.
  • Got John McCain to drop out of the Republican primaries in 2000 by promising to make McCain turn his back on every principle he held dear.
  • In the heated moments of the Florida vote recount, planned a concession phone call to Al Gore that would have ended with him saying “psyche!” and hanging up.
  • Took so long to respond when informed of the 9/11 terrorist attacks because his mind was occupied trying to think of that one guy who was in that thing.
  • Considered himself a “dissenting voice” in the debate over going to war in Iraq, but rather than press the issue, opted to use his political capital to argue for pizza for lunch the next day.
  • Blames a printing press error for the “aircraft carrier” mess in 2003. The banner was originally supposed to read “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED…IS WHAT THIS SIGN WILL SAY ONCE THE WAR IS OVER”.
  • In order to combat perceptions that Dick Cheney was the real power behind the presidency, contemplated removing him from the ticket in 2004. Changed his mind after waking up in a ditch with no memory of the events of the previous week.
  • As the Iraq War spiraled out of control and more and more Americans were killed trying to bring democracy to a land that didn’t seem to want it, he had this weird dream where was in an ostrich rodeo.
  • Deeply regrets that, in the wake of the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, he allowed so many news networks to report on it.
  • Believes the Kanye West incident is “the lowest point of my presidency” because “any other choice is too horrifying.”
  • After Obama’s inauguration, as Air Force One took him away from the White House for the last time, he finally thought of that one guy who was in that thing. It was Bill Paxton.
  • Ends book with an anecdote about picking up after his dog because when you’ve committed war crimes, caused the needless deaths of thousands, and driven your country into a ditch, it’s good to laugh about it.

Lou Dobbs Gets to the Bottom of Everything

dobbs.jpgThe debate rages–RAGES!–on about President Obama’s place of birth. Obama insists he was born in the US, and government officials in his supposed native state of Hawaii and elsewhere say they’ve seen his birth certificate and it’s valid. But since I haven’t seen it right in front of me, with my own eyes, I say this issue is still up for debate.

You know what else is up for debate? Mummies. Scientists say they don’t exist. But I’ve seen ’em in movies. Like The Mummy, and The Mummy Returns, and The Bad News Mummies in Breaking Training. Who am I supposed to believe–scientists or my own eyes? And if mummies don’t exist, why do I wet the bed every night because I dream I’m being chased by one?

Scientists also tell us that there’s something called The Air that supplies us with oxygen. Well, I ain’t never seen it! Prove it to me, Poindexter! Show me air in a box, then we’ll talk! And don’t feed me no jazz about the wind. Everyone knows the wind is god sneezing.

And what about my penis? My doctor tells me I still have one, technically, but I haven’t seen the damn thing for years. I know what you’re thinking: “Lou, how do you pee without one?” I don’t know!

Coming up on the Lou Dobbs program starring Lou Dobbs: Should all Mexicans be killed, or merely imprisoned?

You Failed the Trials for the Human Race: Howie Carr

I never thought I’d write these words, but I’m a big enough man to admit it: I owe Wallace Matthews an apology.

Mind you, I still think he’s one of the worst writers on the planet. But I also thought he was one of the worst human beings on the planet. I stand corrected. He has been dwarfed in hideousness by Howie Carr, a “writer” for the Boston Herald.

Matthews is cranky and joyless and seems to take pleasure in raining on parades. But he has not, to the best of my knowledge, actually caused anyone harm–or really wished harm on others. Howie Carr, on the other hand, wants people to starve.

Carr is a reprehensible right-wing talk radio windbag on Boston’s WRKO (against his will, apparently). He lies somewhere in the Venn intersection of Bob Grant, Morton Downey Jr., and a playground bully, filling his shows with Code Word Bigotry and seething anti-gay invective.

He also writes columns for the Boston Herald. You’ve probably never read the Herald unless you’ve had to line a birdcage in the greater New England area. It’s basically an angrier, more overtly racist version of the NY Post, aimed squarely at the Tommy from Quinzee set.

In this latter capacity, he authored a piece that appeared in Sunday’s Herald, “Shed no tears as Boston Globe fat gets Pinched”. I was alerted to its poisonous existence by the justifiably angry tweeting of BP’s Will Carroll.

As you may know, there’s a very good chance the Boston Globe will close down very soon. I’m ambivalent about the future of newspapers myself. And I have to cop to a snotty tweet I tapped out on Monday about how no more Globe would (hopefully) mean no more Dan Shaughnessy.

But I think we can all agree that the shuttering of the Globe would be sad. Not only because it’s a storied daily with a long history, but because it would put a lot of people out of work–very few of whom are responsible for the paper’s financial woes. It would also leave Boston with only one newspaper: the reprehensible Herald.

So again, I think we can all agree that the Globe’s imminent closing is a very bad, very sad thing.

Wait, we can’t all agree with that? Apparently not, according to Carr. He’s dancing on a grave that hasn’t even been dug yet. Why? Because the Globe is a liberal newspaper, owned by the NY Times Corp., and therefore is worse than Hitler in his book.

Keep in mind as you read these excerpts that Carr writes for the Globe‘s rival paper, and that no newspapers are doing well right now. So his insane, petty, vindictive Schadenfreude makes about as much karmic sense as the head of GM crowing about Chrysler’s bankruptcy.

Continue reading You Failed the Trials for the Human Race: Howie Carr

Giuliani Knows You’re Cool With That, Right?

giuliani.jpgHey, thanks for lettin me crash at your place, guys. I’m goin through a really rough patch with my old lady and you saved my bacon. You guys really did me a solid, and I won’t forget it, man.

And no worries about the whole ‘bein gay’ thing. You do your thing, I do my thing, we’ll all be cool, okay? Live and let live, that is my mot-to.

‘Course, in a coupla years, I’m gonna be runnin for higher office. Maybe senator, maybe governor–who knows, maybe even La Casa Blanca, know what I’m sayin, bro?

Point is, I’m a Republican and all, so I gotta play the game. You know how it is. Hey, look I’m talkin to–you guys probably gotta pretend to be all not-gay just to keep your jobs!

Anywhoozle, I’m just lettin ya know I gotta say some shit that might rub ya the wrong way. Not for real, of course–just stuff that’ll play in the sticks, you know? Like, I gotta say I “hate” gay marriage and that hetero marriage is a “sacred institution”.

Man, I gotta practice sayin that–I can barely get the words out without crackin up! I mean, I been married three times already and cheated on my last old lady. And I wasn’t discrete about it either. I kinda did it really, really publicly. All the time.

Oh, and I used city money to go visit my girlfriend while I was still married. Hey, nobody’s perfect, bro.

But don’t worry, it’s just gonna be shit I say to climb the ladder, know what I’m sayin? Once I’m in office…well, then I probably gotta pass some laws against gay marriage it because I’ll totally be indebted to the guys who got me elected on that platform.

Don’t you worry, though–that civil union thing, totally safe. No one’s touchin that on my watch! Unless they pressure me to repeal that, too. Then all bets are off, know what I’m sayin?

But hey, just wanna letcha know, even if I strip away all your rights and keep you from being with the one you love, just know this: I don’t really mean it.

So we’re still cool, right?

Seriously? We’re still cool? Awesome. I knew I could count on you guys.

You guys got matches? I’m gotta use the little boys’ room and I plan on cuttin mud for 25 minutes minimum.

The Unhappiest Man in the World Returns

I ain’t gonna lie: The Opening Night loss really bugged me.

Part of it was because I’ve only gotten the chance to see a few Mets games from beginning to end so far, and they’ve won only one of them.

Part of it was the team’s general lack of urgency, an eerie reminder of recent seasons.

Part of it was battling back from a 4-run deficit, only to see it depart on a petty balk that might have gone unnoticed were it not for that cancerous little midget David Eckstein. (If I hear one more broadcaster call him a “winner”, I will Elvis my TV).

Part of it was I knew it would sour my whole day, despite my best efforts to prevent such meaningless events from negatively affecting my life.

But mostly it was because I knew the media doo-doo storm would be in full poo-flinging swing. I knew that the Mets would be absolutely murdered in today’s papers, on the local sports channels, and by the radio yakkers, all of them spewing forth with absolutely no perspective whatsoever.

I avoided all three outlets like the plague for most of Tuesday, because I knew what they would say, and I knew it would just anger me. Sometimes, getting annoyed can spur you on to do great things, but Tuesday was not such a time. I wanted to coccoon and wait out the media maelstrom until the next game.

wmatthews.jpgBut for reasons I still don’t fully understand, I visited Newsday‘s online site late in the day. I felt drawn there by evil forces I couldn’t resist, like Frodo aching to slip on The One Ring. And while there, I saw a link for a Wallace Matthews article entitled “Citi Field lacks real Mets fans”. And god help me, I clicked and read.

I shouldn’t be mad at Wallace Matthews for this literary abortion of an article. I’ve documented this fact at Scratchbomb enough times: The man lives to eat joy and shit out despair. I knew exactly what he would pen on such an occasion. And yet I read it anyway. I’m at fault here, not Matthews. He’s just doing what comes naturally to him, like a dog eating its own vomit.

For Wallace Matthews, the Mets opening a new stadium with a listless, embarrassing loss is like eight Christmas mornings rolled into one. Except in Matthews’ version, there are no presents under the tree for anyone and he gets to tell all the children in the world that Santa Claus was raped and bludgeoned to death.

With all that said, let’s dive in, shall we?

Continue reading The Unhappiest Man in the World Returns