I Sort Of Watched

The TV was tuned in to the Emmys last night, but I wasn't really watching it. I had the TV on more for noise than anything else. I did watch the opening gag that had O'Brien tromping through the more popular shows which was funny in a stupid, let's steal imitate Billy Crystal's (who is brilliant) Oscar bits sort of way.

There were a few lines during the show
that did get a little chuckle out of me. One was by O'Brien when he was going over what not to say when you win. "Don't say, 'Wow, this is heavy.' Of course it's heavy. It contains the shattered dreams of four other people."

The other was by (I think) Greg Garcia (I wasn't really watching, just listening, remember?) the creator of My Name Is Earl. He said that the list of people who he would like to thank was too long so instead he was going to say who he wasn't going to share his Emmy with. At the end of his list he said I'm sure that God is responsible for this in some way,
but you took my hair man and that's just not cool.

And Helen Mirren on her win for Elizabeth I, said
"My great triumph was not falling ass over tit as I walked up here."

I saw the tribute to Dick Clark featuring American Idol judge Simon Cowell, who, received quite a few boos when he walked out on stage.
And then there was a performance by Barry Manilow. And then Manilow won an Emmy. Funny how that works.

I didn't see the Aaron Spelling tribute, but I've now read that
Candy Spelling, wiped away her tears while sitting in the audience next to her son, Randy Spelling. Daughter Tori Spelling was seated separately with husband Dean McDermott. I'm sure that Tori cried for the loss of her money father as well.

I remember as a teenager I use to eat all of these award shows and celebrity shit up. I looked forward to those red carpet interviews. I just had to know who won, who was there, what was worn, etc. And now, well, I still enjoy the entertainment value that some of you vicariously provide through the tube, but the magic is gone. I could go into a long diatribe about why and how, but I'm going to try (try) to be nice today. Also, I'm tired, being lazy, and just don't have much to say.
So, to whoever reads this, try to enjoy your Manic Monday while you wish it were Sunday cause that's your fun day.

Show Me The Money

The news has been all abuzz about the recent, very public contract termination between Tom Cruise and Paramount Pictures. Of course Tom Cruise's oddball behavior and falling popularity haven't helped either. I can almost forgive his couch jumping (love is suppose to be crazy and out of control) (if it's real), but I can't overlook the way that he attacked ones own personal choice when it comes to dealing with health - mental or otherwise. It's okay to have beliefs different from others. That's what makes the world go 'round. It's not okay however, to shove your lifestyle down someone else's throat.
Can you say hypocrite?
Everyone views and practices their faith differently. At the end of the day, what you believe in is the only thing that matters.

Still, this isn’t only a Tom Cruise problem. Paramount’s announcement came after a series of skirmishes between studios and stars: the cancellation of one Jim Carrey film and the postponement of another on the verge of production; the public rebuke by the chief of Morgan Creek, James G. Robinson, of Lindsay Lohan after excessive partying caused her to miss work; and the studios’ letting lapse at least a half-dozen production deals with stars.

This move is said to be done in an effort for the studio moguls to regain control over actors and their salaries. They wish to return to a time when stars were essentially indentured servants who took straight salaries, had little control over the films they made, and were bound by unconscionably long contracts. Will it hurt them in the long run?
Will other stars refuse to work with Paramount?
I guess time and disposable income will tell.


As for me, Mr. Cruise, I'm torn. You've become rather adept at creating controversy. And to quote a line from one of your movies: Every now and then say, "What the fuck." "What the fuck" gives you freedom.
So this is me, saying "what the fuck".
I still love you Tom cause
you'll always be Maverick to me.

But if an alien pops out of you, well,
that'll be another story for another day.
I'll be saying WTF?!
for a completely different reason!

Dictionary Definition Of

Ridiculous = Deserving or inspiring ridicule; absurd, preposterous, or silly.
Pathetic = Arousing or capable of arousing scornful pity.
Joke = Something not to be taken seriously; a triviality.

see photo reference:


Kevin Federline's TV debut as a rapper: "Don't hate because I'm a superstar! And I'm married to a superstar! Nothin' come between us no matter who you are!"

Puhleez! I'm more gangster than that future welfare-trailer park party crashin'-wishes he was drinkin' Cristal-would be banished into obscurity if it weren't for Britney Spears-excess sperm donor.

This is pretty funny because it's pretty pathetic. So if you want to see a terrible cliche and have a good laugh, click here.

Just an observation: Have you noticed how the mass-produced
and talentless hacks all have a DJ and amazing "back-up" dancers?
... all the better to distract you with my dear.

Summer Memories

I was paying SamuraiFrog a visit when one of his posts made me get all nostalgic about how the majority of my childhood summers were spent. His post was about the upcoming film Planet Terror by Robert Rodriguez.

I know what you're thinking: What in the world does Robert Rodriguez have to do with my childhood memories? Well, if you're willing to let me ramble on about something that has absolutely nothing of interest for you, but means a great deal to me, then by all means read on.

I spent every summer from the age of 5 to about 13 or 14 with my grandmother in south Texas. A very small city called Rio Grande - as in the now non-existent river that once separated the Texas/Mexico border. I never had the chance to meet my grandfather, he died about a year before I was born. I only know him from the memories of my family and from a few pictures that he actually allowed someone to take of him. They all tell me that I have many of his mannerisms. My dad told me that my grandfather was like the Indians, he didn't like having his picture taken because he thought that it would take away part of his soul. The one picture that he actually posed for was his wedding photo. He looked so handsome. He was wearing a mariachi suit, and he wore it well. He struck a tough pose with his head tilted ever so slightly back, a gleam in his eye that said he was ready to take on the world. My grandmother was looking beautiful in all of her 16 year old innocence. A simple, elegant long white gown. A bouquet of flowers being held to her stomach with both hands.

My grandmother was an amazing woman. She taught me many great things that resound in my everyday life. She was the one who taught me how to speak Spanish after about the age of 6 when I got tired of always asking her what other relatives were saying during their conversations. She taught me how to cook, and you better believe that after raising 11 of her own children that she was phenomenal. She made the best tortillas and tamales ever! And I'm not just saying that because she was my grandmother, she really did. It didn't matter what she cooked, it tasted great because she made it with love. She taught me about our family and where we came from. The hardships, yet simple way of life that was lived when she was growing up and then later raising children of her own.

Every morning after my grandmother and I ate breakfast, we would walk through the yard and water the plants. We would make our way to the back yard to feed the birds, chickens, cats and dogs. Along the way we would stop and chat with other neighbors that happened to be out in their yards as well. My favorite neighbor was this couple who my grandmother grew up with. As children they lived down the street from each other and as adults they were next door neighbors. His name was Chemita, his wife's name was Henarita and he was the local baker. His bakery was connected to his house. He was always up before the crack of dawn baking his orders for the day and for those who just stopped by. There was no way that you could sleep in late with those wonderful smells making their way into the house. He would always be waiting for us at the fence with some of his freshly baked breads or with some cherry tomatoes from his garden. He grew other things in his garden, but for some reason I always remembered those tomatoes. I remember the way he use to just pop them in his mouth for a quick snack while telling me stories about all of the things that my dad, aunts and uncles did as kids. One of the most amazing things about this man, to me anyway, was that he was born in 1898. As I grew up I came to appreciate him even more, for the fact that I was fortunate enough to have met someone who had lived through so much history. It was my wish that he would live to see the year 2000. My wish didn't come true. He was a healthy man, he worked every single day of his life. In the end, it was a freak fall down a short flight of stairs while going to work on a stove that did him in.
He was 100 years old.

As a child, most of my summer days were spent outside playing with who ever else I could find. Most of the time it was with one or more of my endless supply of cousins (11 kids, remember). Other times it was spent with this boy who I met over the fence through one of our backyard conversations with a friend of my grandmothers. I don't remember her name, but I do remember her grandson Robert.
He was older than me and wouldn't have anything to do with the 'baby' who would follow him around asking to see his drawings.
My persistence paid off one day though, or it could have been that none of his friends were around and he was just bored. Whatever the reason, I now had my first older friend (I thought I was so grown-up and cool) and despite our age difference we got along just fine. When the sun would get too strong, we would go and sit under one of the pomegranate trees and eat till we were full and were left with red mouths and red fingertips. We would lay under those trees looking at his drawings, he explaining what they were. Everyday was filled with ridiculously exaggerated stories of different kinds of monsters and people. I looked forward to those days spent with him. At the end of that summer we said our good-byes. I went back home to Dallas and he went back home to San Antonio.
I spent a couple of more summers with him before puberty hit and he couldn't be bothered with wasting time at his grandmother's house, much less a kid like me, but I'll always remember him as the boy I shared pomegranates with.

Whenever I see or hear about Robert Rodriguez, it brings back a forgotten innocence for me. Not necessarily about him, though I am fond of the times we shared. The innocence it evokes are of the cherished memories of time spent with my grandmother.
The laughs, the tears, the stories, the time spent in the kitchen with all of its wonderful sounds and smells. The memory of her.

Argh!

And The Winner Is

Whoo-Hoo! My geeky, booty-shakin'-white-boy Benji Schwimmer from

So You Think You Can Dance is America's favorite dancer.

New Template

I decided to stop being lazy (for now) this morning and figure out why my blog was displaying so differently between IE and Firefox. It was a glitch in the template that I was using. It displayed the way that I wanted in IE only. But now, both are almost the same. For some reason Firefox changes the color of my media player from black to blue and doesn't center my counter - minor things that don't bother me much.
So, for all of you pains-in-the-ass who kept sending me emails about my Firefox issues: You happy now? OK. Good. Now shut-the-hell-up and happy reading!

P.S.

I'm still working out some of the kinks, like the comments section

(I'll get to it later) - so bare with me (please)

Firefox Users:

If you are viewing my page via FireFox,
I'm sorry about the layout.
It displays normal on IE if you want to take a look.
You wouldn't be committing an act of betrayal if you did. I promise I won't tell anyone that you crossed over to the dark side.
Maybe one day when I'm done being lazy I'll work out the kinks.

Funny Cause It's True

This is a post that I stole,
err...ummm... borrowed from WHISKEY-TANGO-FOXTROT
He's a funny guy, stop by and congratulate the soon-to-be-daddy.
He'll be happy that you made his counter go up :-)

Kids These Days Are Pussies
Those Of Us Born 1950-1979 ...

• Our mothers smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant with us. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can,and didn't get tested for diabetes.
• We were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
• We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets.
• When we rode our bikes, we had no helmets.
• We hitchhiked.
• We rode in cars with no car seats, booster seats, seat belts, or air bags.
• Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was a treat.
• We drank water from the garden hose...NOT from a bottle.
• We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.
• We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and drank Kool-Aid
  made with sugar. But we weren't fat asses because we were always outside playing.
• We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.
• No one was able to reach us all day. And we were fine.
• We spent hours building go-carts out of scraps and then rode down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
• We didn't have cell phones, IPods, portable video games, 150 channels on cable, DVDs, surround-sound, CD's, personal computers, or the Internet. Those of us born in the 70s had Atari 2600, and we fucking loved it. But we were capable of mastering any new game in about an hour ... and then we went back outside to play.
• We had friends and we went outside and found them.
• We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
• We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays. No one actually shot their eye out.
• We made up games with sticks and tennis balls, or cardboard boxes, or whatever else we could find available.
• We rode our bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.
• Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.
• The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Dad told the cops to go ahead and keep us overnight to teach us a lesson.

Our generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever! The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to fucking deal with it all. If you are one of us, CONGRATU-FUCKING-LATIONS! ... high five.
We were lucky enough to grow up during a time when lawyers and government actually still allowed us to be kids. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go run through the house with scissors...

What Can I Say?...

Sometimes I just want to scream!
Scream until my vocals bleed,
bleed out the memories that torment me,
The emotions on the floor in front of me
all black and full of malice.
My own reflection
pooled around my feet, mocking me.
Will I be able to confront them?
Do I dare stomp around?
Will I miss the memory that drained away with that splash?

This Is Me

Here I am
a thousand miles from my past
I reach out to you
and always fall short of your grasp

My steps are measured
My voice offers no release
Everything in me
is bursting at the seams

If I were to whisper
Would you be able to hear
I’m being held hostage
by dreams that I fear

My confines are crumbling
All my thoughts are tumbling
They mingle with a future
that the present can not see

What can I do
Accept the reality
that this is me

Be A Witness

Screaming In Silence
The Ultimate Crime
Voice Your Concern
At The Horror
For There Are Those Who Cannot
There Are Those Who Are Not Able
Ignorance Is Not Bliss
If It Affects One
It Affects Us All
No Longer Can We Pretend
No Longer Can We Wear Blinders To The World
No Longer Must We Remain Silent

Whether it is coverage of the civil rights movement

in the 1950s and 60s, the Ethiopian famine in the 1980s,

or recent coverage of the tsunami,

television news can help stop grave injustices

and end human suffering.

Increased television coverage of the genocide in Darfur

has the power to spur the action required

to stop a devastating crime against humanity.

Help make a difference, click here.

Save Darfur, Send a Postcard to President Bush.

Manic Motivation

100 People part 4

100 People Who Are Screwing Up America

Bernard Goldberg

70 - Jimmy Swaggart
There are those - okay, let's go ahead and call them "liberals" - who see "intolerance" everywhere, including all kinds of places where it is not. People who see "intolerance" everywhere are so aggressive in pushing their views, both in the media and through the courts, that lots of us have come to regard the very word "intolerance" as a red flag.
Which brings us to TV evangelist Jimmy Swaggart.
"I've never seen a man in my life that I wanted to marry,"

said Swaggart during a church sermon on September 12, 2004.

"And I'm gonna be blunt and plain: if one ever looks at me like that,

I'm gonna kill him and tell God that he died."
When this came to light, Swaggart eventually issued an "apology."

He said he was only joking, but that if he offended

anyone he said that he would kill, he was sorry.

69 - Matt Kunitz
The Executive Producer of Fear Factor,

the NBC prime-time TV reality show.

68 - Katherine Hanson
Hanson is a self-styled expert in "the culture of violence."

She believes that in this country we "socialize males to be aggressive,

powerful, unemotional and controlling," and that such activities as

Little League baseball "encourage aggressive, violent behavior..."
Katherine Hanson is one of those angry radical feminists who have helped set the agenda in classrooms all across the country. Under the auspices of Bill Clinton's Department of Education, Hanson's outfit produced more than 350 publications and distributed material to hundreds of educational conferences. By 2000, Hanson's organization had received more than $75 million in federal funds - otherwise known as your tax dollars!

67 - Randall Robinson
As if there's not already enough bitterness and

misunderstanding in this country on the subject of race,

along comes Randall Robinson with a bright idea: Reparations!
"The United States is obligated to come to terms with its past and

to make the victims whole," Robinson has written. "This means compensation, restitution, reparations." After all, he argues, Germany has paid billions to survivors of the Holocaust. And on 1988, the United States compensated Japanese-Americans interned during World War II. And besides, he says, America was largely built by centuries of free labor. "An apology is not the end of the matter," Robinson says.

"An apology is the beginning of the matter."

It's a passionate, heartfelt argument that makes you think.

The problem is that when you do, you're hit by the obvious:

that as immoral as slavery was, it ended more than 140 years ago.

And unlike those who survived the Holocaust and those

Japanese-Americans who were kept in camps against their will,

slavery's actual victims are long gone - as are

the people who kept the whole nasty system going.

In fact, millions upon millions of our ancestors

weren't even in this country back in the days of slavery, and,

among those who were, hundreds of thousands died at Gettysburg and on a lot of other battlefields to end slavery.

66 - David Duke
David Duke, who just might be America's most famous bigot with good hair, has been off the radar screen for the past few years, because he was in federal prison, for tax and mail fraud, and before that he was living in Russia, where (no kidding) he wrote an article called

"Is Russia The Key To White Survival?"

65 - Oliver Stone
The problem with Oliver Stone is not really that he's a leftist with paranoid fantasies about sinister forces running America.

People have a right to their delusions. Besides, in Hollywood having fashionably leftist delusions is always an excellent career move.
The problem isn't even that Stone lies about history and unloads his fantasies on the rest of us in his movies. It's his right as an "artist"

- the word they like to use in the "creative community" to describe themselves - to put whatever he wants on film,

as long as he can get someone to pay for it.
No, the problem is that, even as he plays fast and loose with facts, distorting things in the most unscrupulous and heavy-handed way,

Oliver Stone cavalierly goes out of his way to present his warped take on events ... as real, authentic history.

64 - James Wolcott
James Wolcott is a respected columnist for the ultra-chic

Vanity Fair magazine. On Election Day 2004,

he posted the following message on his website:

"I am preparing myself for either outcome today.

Should Kerry win, I will post an important statement called

'A Time for Healing,' or something equally noble sounding.

Should Bush win, I shall post a statement of philosophical resignation

tentatively titled 'Good, Go Ahead, America,

Choke On Your Own Vomit, You Deserve To Die.'

The latter will probably require a little more tweaking."
This is what is known as sophisticated wit in such sophisticated witty places as Manhattan. Except you just know he's not kidding

- not even a little!

63 - Amy Richards
Amy Richards is a longtime, abortion-rights activist.

She lives in Manhattan, and when she was 34 years old,

went off the Pill because it made her "moody,"

and became pregnant. At the doctor's office,

she gets the unexpected news that she's carrying three fetuses.

"My immediate response was, I cannot have triplets," Ms. Richards tells us in her guest column for New York Times Magazine on July 18, 2004.

rarely have I read anything so chilling as Ms. Richards's essay titled

"When One Is Enough" - on the subject of what is

euphemistically called "selective reduction."

"I was not married; I lived in a five-story walk-up in the East Village; I worked freelance; and I would have to go on bed rest in March. I lecture at colleges, and my biggest months are March and April. I would have to give up my main income for the rest of the year. There was a part of me that was sure that I could work around that.

But it was a matter of, Do I want to?" "I asked the doctor: 'Is it possible to get rid of one of them? Or two of them?' The obstertrician wasn't an expert in selective reduction, but she knew that with a shot of potassium chloride you could eliminate one or more."

The point is not that Amy Richards is in favor of abortion, an issue as complicated and contentious as any in our public life. The point is that this woman is the poster child for all those who so easily reduce the procedure simply to a matter of personal convenience. Amy Richards is not even embarrassed to let the world know that she would rather croak than leave her five-story walk-up in Manhattan.

62 - Howard Stern

I have friends whom I admire and whose opinions I respect, who tell me they like Howard Stern. They tell me they like his honesty. How he's not afraid to go against the grain and take the un-PC position.

But come on! Who are we kidding? The "honesty" most of his fans really like is the same "honesty" that kids have, the uncontrollable compulsion to say whatever comes into their underdeveloped little minds, like,

"Boy, you make stinky farts." They tune to Howard for the adolescent, look-how-naughty-I-can-be-stuff.

None of this means that I think Howard Stern should be taken off the air for indecency. That's not what this is about - at all! This is a very big, very free country, and people should be allowed to say almost anything, even on the radio, even (I'm afraid) in the morning. No, this is about something else entirely. It's about Howard Stern as a form of pollution, as a kind of sludge that runs through our culture today.

61 - Michael Savage

At a time when we can use a lot more civility in our national discourse, you can count on Michael Savage to tell you to take your pansy-ass civility and drop dead, "you hateful nothings," you "stinking rat hiding in the sewers." A few years back, in the summer of 2003, Savage had a weekend talk show on MSNBC, when someone called in with something he didn't like. "So you're one of those sodomites. Are you a sodomite?" Savage demanded. The caller replied: "Yes, I am." "Oh, you're one of the sodomites. You should only get AIDS and die, you pig. How's that?"

How's that? MSNBC fired him, that's how it is.

And even worse, Savage's brand of over-the-top bile - which puts him right in there with the angriest haters on the Left - plays right into the hands of liberals, who use him as a bludgeon against even mainstream conservatives. To them, Michael Savage is not simply someone who "gives voice to the right wing's darkest fantasies," as one profile put it, but that he's typical of all conservatives!

Blame Anonymous

I didn't want to, but I now have to ...
enable my Word Verification.
It seems as though one of the professional-auto bloggers/
AdSense hopefuls has stumbled across my blog
and keeps leaving links that I may find useful.

I don't find them useful because I,
unlike the other lazy-hapless-net-weenies
who you, by some chance, are able to lure
to your completely un-original site, can find my own interests.
So, stick to your target audience: gamers and porn surfers
who aren't aware that there's anything else on the net.
Oh, and here's a tip for you:
if you really want to share something that you feel is useful,
be a (wo)man about it and leave your link/comment in a current post
instead of hiding behind the old ones.

A Birthday Thank You

Yesterday was my birthday, as many of you now know ... and
I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I just had to give you guys a big huge sloppy kiss - [muwah!] - and say thank you, to all of you,
for wishing me a happy birthday.
You made my day!


Thank you
Gracias
Merci
Grazie
Xiexie
Tack
Danke
Bbl

Angela and Matt: Thanks so much for that little extra,
it made me feel oh so special.

And for my Cabezon: Love & Hugs!

Also it's Friday ...
had to change out the videos - enjoy!

Intersections

Spoils of the rich
thrown into a bottomless pit
The destitute wade in your detritus
Scrounge and hide in the shadows of your laugh
Eyes that are never met
The plea to survive another day
upturned you gasp
dare not look back
Everyday a failed choice
to see your own eyes

Hee-Haw!*

*Hee-Haw is the sound a Donkey makes
A Donkey is also known as a Jack-Ass!