Girls do not like to hear the word “micropenis”. Guys are not in love with it either, but I’m sure guys get a laugh out of it unless they’re talking about their own micropenis. But girls do not like the word micropenis. Is it the word “penis”? No. Girls don’t mind the word penis. I imagine when there are no penises around, girls probably say that word or a euphemism for that word quite a bit. Is it the word “micro”? Nah. If you told a girl you were a “microbiologist”, I’m sure you’ll keep that lass’ attention for at least a couple more minutes until you actually explain what a microbiologist does and then she’s all “borriiiiinnnggg”. Or at least that is the impression I get from every sitcom I’ve ever watched.

Anyway, micropenis is the first word on the lips of Marlow Stern, who writes for The Daily Beast, in article he wrote about Natalie Portman’s Dad’s novel. Yes, that Marlow… oh wait, who is he? Well, he provided this little non-bragging bio at the bottom of the article:

Marlow Stern works for The Daily Beast and has a master’s from the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. He has served in the editorial department of Blender magazine, as an editor at Amplifier magazine, and, since 2007, editor of Manhattan Movie Magazine.

I guess they teach “snark” in the school of journalism at Columbia because this article is full of it.

Actually, I learned a lot from the bio because I thought “Marlow Stern” was a woman, but he’s a dude. Doesn’t change much. Just mentioning. I digress…


The gorgeous Natalie Portman has a father. His fatherly name is Dr. Avner Hershlag. That father is “One of the country’s most renowned reproductive specialists, the Yale-educated Hershlag is Director of the Donor Egg and Preimplantation Genetic Diagnosis, Director of Fertility Laboratories, and Medical Director of the In Vitro Fertilization Program at the Center for Human Reproduction in North Shore, Long Island” as the article notes.

The doctor also fancies himself a writer. He has finished his first novel entitled Misconception, which is of the creepy sounding genre “fertility-thriller”. No surprise it is a “fertility-thriller” considering the bolded sentence above. Either way, the book sounds a tad bit insane. Marlow Stern seemingly read the book and then gave a spoiler filled breakdown of the wilder moments of the book. Those will be in bold and my comments in the reg underneath them.

Let’s just say, Dr. Avner is one to tell a tale, a tall tale, a tall absurd and ridiculous tale. Here is the synopsis:

Dr. Hershlag’s debut novel is set in Washington D.C. and centers on Dr. Anya Krim, the fertility specialist for the President and his wife. She delivers a deformed baby with “ambiguous genitalia” who later goes missing and its mother is found dead. Krim then discovers Megan Tanner, a senator’s daughter who has been in a coma for two years, is also pregnant. Senator Tanner is the Majority Whip, and chairman of a senate committee overhearing a controversial Embryonic Stem Cell Bill in Congress. If Dr. Krim—a rape victim herself—didn’t have enough on her petri dish, the First Lady’s last-ditch effort to conceive goes haywire when her embryos are kidnapped from the lab.

And that’s only the beginning.

HOLY BATSHIT GHOST OF A DAN BROWN NOVEL!!!!! Where is Robert Langdon and his well toned body for a man of his age when you need him?! Damn it. He’s probably on a G5 flying at mach 8 over the Spanish mountains as the sun sets on another murder of an old acquaintance in a hidden library under the Barcelona soccer stadium. If that paragraph of a synopsis didn’t clue you in yet that this book is dealing with an out of control writer making everything more grandiose than a John Grisham/Michael Bay micropenis baby then you need to hold dearly tight to your computer chair because this is going to get ridiculous.


Misconception’s prologue opens with a doctor inspecting the pubic region of a 12-year-old male patient. He first notes that the boy has no pubic hair. Then, the doctor takes “oddballs” (i.e. plastic balls) and measures them against the young boy’s testicles, noting that the boy’s balls are “size one.” (Pg. xiii) The doctor proceeds to measure the boy’s penis with a yardstick, noting that it is 1.5-inches long. He informs the boy and his doting mother that the child has “Fragile Y Syndrome,” meaning that his X chromosome is fine, but his Y chromosome is weak. In other words: “His penis and testicles will always be small” and he’ll grow up tall and skinny with “a micropenis and two microtesticles.” (Pg. xiii) The story then flashes forward 28 years—the boy has grown up to become Hugh Nicholson, the head of a cloning facility where he and his partner, Dr. Jeremy “Cody” Coddington, duplicate dogs for up to $100,000 apiece.

AM. I. RIGHT?! Fuck yeah, this book is amazing. What more could you want? A female character. Sure. But we’ll get to them and they’ve all been raped or something as the synopsis mentioned. Regardless, we have a micropenis paired with microtesticles, which may sound bad, but think of the alternative. Imagine having a penis so small that doctors for sheer professional conduct purposes have to refer to as scientifically “micro”. Then you have a pair of big old balls flapping around behind it? That doesn’t make sense. There needs to be some symmetry here. The Divine Creator doesn’t give you a tiny dick and big balls. He gives you tiny everything. Makes sense.

Oddballs. Love it. Didn’t know such a thing existed, but I’m into it. If you have a device called oddballs then you use it. I get that. But why use a yardstick on a boy with a micropenis? Is that just to insult him even further? Let’s get this out of the way, there is maybe a .001% of men who stack up well against a yardstick. I’m not even sure if that is true. A yard?! A yard is three fucking feet! THREE FEET OF PENIS?! Who the hell has three feet of penis? I have watched way more than a good deal of porn in my day and I have never stumbled across a man with a three foot penis in these videos. Yeah, there have been some dudes who have over a foot of penis, which is absolute insanity. It is insane. They are certainly a minority of a minority of a minority out there in the world. But even then you’re two feet shy of a yardstick. How about we just ditch the yardstick and get a classic foot long ruler?

So, the boy has a tiny penis and some tiny nuts, but does that stop him in life? FUCK NO! That mofo is cloning dogs! The boy with the smallest penis and ball set in the world has discovered perfect cloning like he is a damn alien from the future! Unreal. Un-fucking-real. I bet “Cody” his “partner” is just the looks with his normal penis and balls, but Hugh is the brains. Already, this book is too crazy for its own good and we’re just through the PROLOGUE! We’re in the xxxiiixixixi pages. Here come the actual numbered ones…


Megan Tanner is the coma-stricken teenage daughter of Wyoming Senator Nelson Tanner III—a scar-faced, Armani-clad Vietnam vet with a prosthetic leg. She lapsed into the coma after her pot-smoking prom date crashed his car into a tree and the Senator apparently disposed of the teenage driver. Megan has been in a coma for two years, yet she’s mysteriously 20 weeks pregnant. Dr. Krim assumes that her comatose patient has been raped in her sleep by a necrophiliac, which triggers memories of Krim’s own rape eight years prior. As the FBI investigates the case, Megan’s rests in her hospital quarters—a recreation of her own room at home, with “posters of Antonio Banderas, Antonio Sabato Jr., Sarah Chang, Tara Lipinski, and Maroon 5.” (Pg. 13) [Huh?]

First off, I support anyone who references America’s sweetheart Tara Lipinski. That girl won a gold medal for us! FOR US! Secondly, what? I’m glad the doctor “assumed” she was raped because I’m no doctor, but unless we’re saying coma patients can have consensual sex then she was raped or that “pot-smoking” prom date had time-release sperm. One or the other. The only other options are “miracle” aka “Jesus baby” or someone stuck her with a needle of sperm and got her preggers. I would imagine in vitro fertilization is more complicated then just quietly sticking someone with a syringe of splooge, but who knows? If it is more complicated than that then I would imagine someone would have noticed someone doing that to the coma patient of the well dressed, but one-legged Senator who also ditched a weed smelling body in the woods of Wyoming.


At one point, Dr. Krim gets in a heated argument with her Lincoln University Hospital co-worker Dr. Feinberg, the chairman of the Center for Human Reproduction. Feinberg—Krim’s supposed nemesis—sports a glass eye because it’s rumored that “an angry resident who couldn’t tolerate his mockery had stabbed his left eye with a scalpel.” He wants to abort Megan’s unborn child via C-section, despite it being 20 weeks along. Krim fights Feinberg and refuses to give in, saying [out of nowhere], “I can see this little girl grow up, take ballet lessons, maybe even get really good, a prodigy of sorts.” Feinberg doesn’t want to hear about her possible principal dancer future, saying, “Terminate—or be terminated.” (Pgs. 78-79)

YES! The drama! Dr. Feinberg could very well be the biggest asshole of all time. I’ve had some asshole co-workers in my time, but never to the point that I or a different co-worker STABBED THEM IN THE EYE WITH A SCALPEL. That’s how big of an asshole Dr. Feinberg is. That isn’t necessarily a “death blow”. That is a “I want to cause you so much pain and I want to maim your entire existence on this planet if you survive this” blow. That’s a whole level of anger most will never achieve expect Dr. Feinberg did make them achieve it and it happened to them. That’s absolutely insane and he’s still risen to the role of “Chairman”. As for Dr. Krim’s flash forward? If I was standing there and having an objective opinion, I would have thought Krim just lost the argument with that nonsense. “maybe even get really good”? We’re going to keep the rape baby because there’s an off chance she’ll get “really good” at ballet. Ballet?! And who is forcing this child into ballet? Is that part of her social contract for existence. Hey kid, you want to live? Yes. You have to do ballet? But I hate ballet. I repeat, do you want to live? Yes, but doesn’t this seem weird and arbitrary. And Dr. Feinberg may have been in a Rambo movie with that “terminate – or be terminated” line. Wow. This book is GOLD!


The deformed baby Dr. Krim delivers has been cloned by Fragile Y Syndrome sufferer Hugh Nicholson, who intended the child to be the heir to an unnamed royal for $10 million. Nicholson has his partner Cody inject “three different medicines, which together erased muscle relaxation and increased blood flow to create an erection” into the shaft of his penis. (Pg. 40) This is just another day at the office for Cody and it is Nicholson’s effort to have sex with one of the five surrogates working for him. She apparently finds their sexual exploits pleasurable despite the fact that Nicholson has micro genitalia and major issues—we find out he is a bizarre megalomaniac. (Pg. 44)

A typical day at the office is jamming needles filled with mystery drugs into the minuscule penis of Hugh Nicholson? Do you get a 401k plan and health coverage because I think my resume is more than enough qualified for me to handle that responsibility. The second half of this story is really a condemnation of women as an entire gender. There’s some chick who is into this? Of course, there is! Why wouldn’t there be some micropenis hungry surrogate slut just waiting for one of those many injections to take hold in his infant dick so she can get to humping it. Makes all the sense in the fucking world! Oh and the first couple sentences made absolutely no impression on me because I have absolutely no idea what they are talking about. Next!


A sexy “lobbyist” named Destiny, who Nicholson uses to seduce politicians on Capitol Hill, attempts to bed Senator Tanner. The one-legged Vietnam vet is serving as chairman of the Senate committee overseeing the Embryonic Stem Cell Bill. “She undressed. Her fingers released the knot in his tie like a trained Girl Scout…Tanner sat on the bed, unhooked the below-knee prosthesis, placed it against the wall, and got under the covers.” Destiny says, “You’ve got to untense, Nelson. There are no Democrats in this room.” She then attempts to serve him a glass of Merlot, at which point, Nelson throws the drink on the floor, and, suspecting she’s a spy, screams, “Get dressed and evaporate.” (Pg. 54) Destiny later attempts to seduce a 70-something conservative senator in a hotel suite—also in an effort to get him to favor the Embryonic Stem Cell Bill. But after she undresses, the senator has a heart attack and drops dead. (Pg. 99)

DESTINY?!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH this paragraph is amazing! I want to read a book about Destiny next! The misadventures of being a political prostitute. Soooo good. I’m not saying our political system is a well oiled machine, but I’m pretty sure it would come out that there is a lobbyist named “Destiny” and she is in fact a hot piece of ass sleeping with old right wing Senators. That would come out. There really isn’t much to cover up there, so I’m pretty sure people would hear about that. I love the Girl Scout knot untying bit because not only would a Girl Scout know how to untie a knot, but it also makes it laced with an air of pedophilia. Subtle. So subtle Dr. Avner. Lastly, she might be the worst whore in the existence of paid whores. We have two examples of her not only not securing any vote, but she also doesn’t sleep with either man. Also, who the hell drinks Merlot in bed when with a prostitute? That seems counterproductive.

I really think there could be a great sexy political slap stick comedy about Destiny. 


The President and the First Lady are trying to have a baby, which the Secret Service codenamed “Operation Easter.” Despite several attempts at in vitro fertilization, the First Lady—a 42-year-old breast cancer survivor—has been unable to conceive. Dr. Krim has a brief moment of panic before the in vitro procedure: “In a moment, I’ll be sticking a needle in the vagina of the First Lady of the United States. Nothing is routine about this case. And everything is at stake!” (Pg. 91) The first couple’s embryos are later kidnapped from Dr. Krim’s lab.

*clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap* *clap*

Well done, Dr. Avner. Well fucking done. “Sticking a needle in the vagina of the First Lady of the United States”, who here hasn’t uttered or wanted to utter that phrase in their life? I know it is on my bucket list. And you think that’s something BOOM! the embryos are kidnapped from the lab. Boom fucking boom. You raised $250? I raise a MILLION DOLLARS!! That’s what Dr. Avner is saying in this book. What topic won’t he cover? Also, I would bet that supposed million dollars just mentioned that this fictional President completely ran on his wife being a breast cancer survivor. Sympathy vote!


After Dr. Krim is nearly killed by two chiseled thugs, one of which sports “an elaborate tattoo of a dragon” across his biceps, (Pg. 146) she goes home to her “hunky” boyfriend, Dr. Dario D’Acosta (who just happens to be Senator Tanner’s therapist). Battered and bruised, D’Acosta runs her bath and lights some fragrant candles. He then gives her an erotic massage, before kissing “her nipples democratically, one kiss for each,” and then taking her to the bedroom, where they embrace—sans clothing—in bed. “When she felt his hardness,” however, “the feelings evaporated.” Dr. Krim is painfully reminded of her rape eight years prior. “The python’s going to bite me!” she thinks and pleads for D’Acosta to stop. Her longtime partner, becomes a paragon of patience, saying, “I understand.” (Pg. 151)

Nothing is funny about rape unless the victim says “the python’s going to bite me”. That is just sheer absurd lunacy. Who the hell talks like that?! Also, this has two more connections for the Dan Brown fans – dragon tattoos and noting the chiseled physique and wonderful penis of a character in the book. Plus, I’m not sure Dr. D’Acosta is the best therapist if he thinks the best way to calm down a woman who was almost killed by two men and was also raped at one point in the past decade is to try and bang her. Just my non-doctoral guess.


In a pair of twists reminiscent of an M. Night Shyamalan film, a DNA test on Megan’s baby reveals that Senator Tanner is the father of the his comatose daughter’s child. The President of the United States—a longtime friend of Tanner’s—orders Dr. Krim to abort the baby. Meanwhile, it’s revealed that the seductive lobbyist “Destiny” is actually Caroline, Dr. Krim’s trusted embryologist. (Pg. 177) Caroline betrays Dr. Krim, taking pictures of the presidential embryos and sending a ransom email with photos to the First Lady that reads: “Greetings from your embryos… for the time being, your children-to-be are safe and sound with me… In upcoming messages, I will inform you of the kind of actions you must take to bring your embryos home unharmed… Make enough stupid moves, and you can kiss motherhood good-bye.” (Pg. 181)

I honestly couldn’t have seen any of that coming. I haven’t known Senator Tanner for too long, but I’m hoping he didn’t rape his comatose daughter. I’m imagining someone in some sick fantasy stuck a needle in her vagina like they’re doing with everyone else in this book. As for “Destiny” being Caroline, well that was a shock because Caroline has yet to be mentioned thus far. There are three bullet points left and I have absolutely no clue what will happen nor why half of these characters are interacting with each other. Why was someone trying to kill Dr. Krim? Did I miss that? Why does Hugh have a micropenis and why is he even in this book at all?


Dr. Krim is framed and arrested by the FBI for kidnapping the embryos. However, she’s bailed out of prison after an anonymous person pays her $1 million bond. Fresh out of jail, Dr. Krim receives an anonymous email to check the liquid nitrogen tanks back at her lab. In the third tank, she finds “a woman’s head floating in a pool of liquid nitrogen. It was detached from the body. It had no neck.” The woman is Destiny/Caroline! (Pg. 220)

WHAT?! HOLY SHIT!!! So much nonsense just happened! I have absolutely no fucking clue what is going on. Who would kill Destiny/Caroline? Are they the same people who tried to kill Dr. Krim before? And if they are why did they kill Caroline? And why did they want to kill either of them? And why was there even a bond set for a woman who was kidnapping embryos from the Presidential couple? I’m like 99% positive if you tried to kidnap and then ransom the embryos of the President of the United States of America then you wouldn’t get a chance to get out of prison or even live.


Gladys Tanner, the wife of Senator Tanner, turns out to be the one who had a clone of Megan placed in her uterus, in order to save her marriage to Senator Tanner, who loved his daughter dearly. Nicholson’s sympathetic associate, Cody—an old friend of Dr. Krim’s—clones the First Lady’s embryos before Nicholson forces him to get rid of the real ones. But the presidential SWAT team recovers the cloned embryos with barely enough time for Dr. Krim to inject them into the First Lady, who eventually finds herself pregnant.

What? Are they all in the same fucking room? Was Cody, Hugh, Dr. Krim, and the First Lady with her legs spread eagle all in one room with a “cloning machine” and a big needle about to get shit done? Then SWAT (why SWAT?) breaks in and gets all this stuff. But the First Lady is preggers anyway. How stupid? Back to the first sentence, so Gladys Tanner is the most well intentioned dumbest woman on the planet. Your daughter is in coma? Oh wait, I have an idea let’s stuff a clone of her inside her vagina and wait for it to pop out without anyone noticing and then you can raise this demon child daughter like nothing happened. Hey, Senator. You’re old and have one leg. Have you ever thought to yourself I want to raise another baby? No, you haven’t. Well here is one anyway. It’s a girl! Oh where did I get this baby? *whisper* It’s a clone of your daughter that I secretly have been cooking in the belly of your brain dead daughter, which isn’t weird at all. *whisper* Umm, it’s a friend’s who said they want you to raise it, which is random, but whatever. JUST RAISE IT AND BE HAPPY!

And for the FINALE!!!!


With all the loose ends tied, Dr. Krim can finally make love to her remarkably patient boyfriend, Dr. D’Acosta, who has been by her side every step of the way. He “waited for her at his bedroom door, holding two glasses of wine. The only lights in the room came from scented candles he’d lit around the bed. A Chopin nocturne played in the background…” and then, the loving couple finally has sex, with Dr. Krim getting over her fear of erections once and for all. (Pgs. 270-271)


First off, none of the loose ends are tied up because I don’t understand what any of this has to do with anything else. Who were the people who killed Caroline or tried to kill Dr. Krim? Why did we need to know any of the back story of Hugh Nicholson? The only thing we needed to know about him is that he knows how to clone things and then the rest of his story is completely unrelated to the plot. Also, there doesn’t seem to be any reason why Dr. Krim would get over a fear of erections nor is there any reason why she isn’t in jail. Wasn’t she just in a room cloning embryos and sticking them in the First Lady that SWAT had to barge into? Generally, people who are stopped by SWAT end up in jail. I feel like Marlow has left out quite a bit about this insane book that probably doesn’t explain itself any better than this article has attempted.

Best of all… the book is under 300 pages I’m guessing because this finale happens on 270-271. That’s a ton of nonsense happening in a short period of time.

Well done, Dr. Avner. Well done.

You took that idea of less is more and told it to go fuck itself with its micropenis and wrote a rambling mess of insanity that is about a third coherent as any Dan Brown book I’ve read. Good for you.

As for you Natalie…

I appreciate your beauty, sophistication and your sanity more than I ever have before.

Sidenote: if my Dad wrote a book, it would be about a Jewish New York Detective in the 70’s who is solving the city’s biggest murders that may also involve national security and in the mean time he would be a James Bond-esque Lothario and the Mets, Giants, and Knicks would all win their respective championships. Think John Shaft, but he’s Kosher.

… also known as I Took A Dump On Einstein’s Grave!

I hope you have your thinking caps on.

I hope you have a link to dictionary.com open.

I hope you have a link to thesaurus.com open.

I hope you have a link to Google translator open.

I hope you have a link to Wikipedia open.

I hope you have a paper and pencil handy because you will need to take notes.

I hope you are ready to get blown… away with knowledge.

My last hope of hopes, you are all not offended by the difference in intelligence between myself and all of you. Today’s post will illustrate perfectly what genius levels my brain has exceeded and I hope this does not cause a rift in our relationship when you see what a lowly pedestrian level your brain works at in comparison.

Let us begin…

Today’s topic is…


AWWWWW!!!! Look at that face! Look at that FACE!!!!

I just want grab that face! I want to hug that doggy face so badly! GIVE ME YOUR FACE DOGGY! SO I CAN HUG IT!!!!!

I won’t lie, I would kiss that doggy. Right in the middle of that face! Right in the middle! Could you imagine? It would be so silly! Just giving that doggy a big old cartoony kiss right in the middle of his face!!!! I would need a towel right away after said kiss because I seemingly would be covered in drool and bits of kibble, but it would be worth it! I’ve kissed girls with a similar consequence, but replace “drool” with “drool” and “kibble” with “whatever girls eat before they pound appletinis”, but it was not worth it.

Look at that silly doggy!!!! Oh my look at that doggy!!!! I would love to run into this picture and this would be my series of actions:

1. Greet the doggy as if it is the Queen of England.

2. Talk to girl in tank top because I am a sucker for girls in tank tops.

3. Channeling my inner Wesley Snipes (which there is), in one swift ninja movement I tear these green things from the doggy’s ears and liberate the doggy’s ears!

4. Doggy and I play! We play!!!!!! We get the girl in the tank top to play!!!! We all play!!!

5. Go for a creeper hug on girl in tank top.

6. Successful or not successful – exit picture back into my sad little life in New Jersey.


I want that silly doggy! I want that silly doggy in that outfit and I want that bow tie that that literally insane man who is holding said silly doggy is wearing! It looks like his little face is smirking. He knows how silly he looks. He looks silly, but he also looks like the most conservative member of The Culture Club. He is definitely in a new wave band from the 80’s. He is a silly doggy who plays bass. Yes, he is. Can you imagine the life one leads who purchases the raw materials to then later make a fedora with a zebra stripe on it for a little silly doggy? The answer is a beautiful life.

I have hair! I have lots of hair! I have everywhere! I’m like that Dashboard Confessional song about hair being everywhere! I’m a doggy.

HAHAHAHAHAH! I AM A DOGGY!!! Look at that doggy! Look at it!!! This doggy gets better every time I look at this doggy. I prefer looking at the doggy starting from its cute little head. Then I continue my looking going north to south. After its cute little head is its big ears! Look at those ears! We would blame games with those ears. Like putting them over the doggy’s eyes for a second like a blind fold or holding them up and out like they were wings attached to the doggy’s head. Why would a doggy have wings on its head? Silly doggy! Then its hysterical hotdog body. It’s like a little tank. It’s like a little tank with wondrous auburn hair. Then finally the coup de grace is its FEET! LOOK AT THOSE FEETS! I would play all day with that doggy going after its feet and the doggy would play back by trying to stop me from getting its feet, but I would get its feet more often than not. Like 50% of the 60% of the 90% of the time.

This is a silly doggy! It played bass for Rick James on the 1981 tour promoting the new album Street Songs. We would hug this dog and I. I had an Old English Sheep Dog once, so we would talk about that while we were hugging. I would also find this dog’s eyes. I don’t see them here, but I would find them amidst all the hugging.

How many treats does this doggy want?!!! He wants all the treats!!! ALL OF THEM!!! How many treats would this doggy get?!!! As many as he would provide me little  licks for, which by my calculations is ALL OF THEM!!!! We would be best friends. I would scratch his little head, right on the top of his head. He would get that look like “you’re scratching my brain and it feels good” that dogs tend to get when you scratch the top of their heads. And then when I stop for a second and he looks at me like, “Who told you stop? Please continue the brain scratching. I’ll give you licks if you start the scratching again!” Then he would give me a few licks and I would scratch his head more. And this would go on forever.


First thing first, I hug this doggy. I have to do that first. I hug ’em up real good. I hug ’em and I give him kisses on his snout. I scratch his snout. I play with his ears. I give him more hugs. I play with his fronts legs. I play with paws. We hug. I play more with his paws and get him riled up and we play, which ends in hugs.

After that, we solve crimes. The two of us will finally put the Moldinari brothers in jail. The doggy will find the clues with his cute smeller nose and then I would fill out the proper paper work for the police because doggies can’t fill out paper work. Doggies can’t hold pens or type! Then the police would tell us to piss off because cops are idiots. Then we would go vigilante style and catch the Moldinari brothers ourselves. The doggy would be wearing a Lone Ranger mask as well as I.

Who is that peeking around that lady’s big behind? IT’S A DOGGY!!!! A DOGGY WITH ITS TONGUE STICKING OUT!!! Otherwise known as the greatest type of doggy.

What ‘cha doing back there lady? I’m just trying to enjoy my doggy treats like a doggy does and your hand with the fingernails is getting awfully close to my doggy dumper.

OH. MY. GOSH! THIS DOGGY WANTS TO BE PET SO BADLY!!! Doggies are so good that they even love other doggies! Look how happy this doggy is to be in its Snoopy bed with its Snoopy toys. This doggy wants IT and by IT I mean nonstop hugs/petting/treats!


If I saw that doggy I would giggle and laugh and make a bee line for the doggy and give that doggy a big bear hug and left that doggy off the ground telling it is one silly doggy for sitting like that and wearing these silly clothes. Is that a pink scarf and a bullet proof doggy vest? You are the silliest doggy! I hug you silly doggy! I also grab a hold of your wrinkly paws and we laugh together! DOGGIES!


OH MY GOD!!! THE PETTING AND HUGGING AND KISSES THIS DOGGY WOULD GET!!! HOW MANY?!!! HOW MANY?!!!! MORE THAN THE NUMBERS WE CURRENTLY HAVE!!! They would need to invent a new number system to calculate even a fraction of the hugs and kisses and pets that I would give this doggy for this wink! It would be so many. AND SCRATCHES! I would scratch this doggy’s face. I would get all the itchies out! Let me pet that doggy already!!!!!!!!

DOGGY!!! You don’t give doggies elaborate ribbons! You give doggies hugs and love and little doggy treats that they love and eat so quickly that at some point you break down and try them yourself as if you didn’t have enough food options in your own house that now you are going to start eating doggy food and you eat the doggy treat and it tastes bland and not like you were expecting and you look at your doggy all squirrelly and say “you really like these that much” as the doggy is in agony seeing you eat its only treats and then you eat a second one just to make sure meanwhile the doggy is about to have a mental breakdown if you don’t start sharing those doggy treats with them before you end up eating the whole box and complaining that they don’t taste as much like bacon to you as the box describes… !!!!


This is the Scottish Deerhound who won the 2011 Westminster Dog Show last night.


Here is the gallery of doggies that I took these pictures from. I highly suggest investing a chunk of your day looking at these doggies.

Thank you doggies.





Let’s start this story where all stories should start – Me.

I was sitting at home, eating dinner and casually forcing my parents to watch The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia because that is what I do. I “force” people to watch movies that will only make their lives a million times better. Sue me. When the movie ended, I got up to go to the bathroom to expel urine or some sort of waste from one of the two holes on the lower half of my body that accomplishes said tasks. I returned to find the TV had been, in a word, hijacked. Hijacked for the Grammys.

After I verbally abused my kinsmen for such disgusting mutiny, I then passive aggressively watched the next hour of the Grammys. I hate the Grammys. I always have and this year didn’t change anything. Who is nominated, I wouldn’t nominate. Who wins from those nominations, I would never give the award to based on those previous stupid nominations. I disagree with the event in its entirety.

I will skip past the Eminem/Dr. Dre/Rhiana performance, which might as well have been them performing “Too Legit To Quit” (which would have been 1000x better) because that damn song of theirs sounds like it was from forever ago. They performed that same song on the VMAs which were I think back in September. How behind are the Grammys? Jay-Z and Alicia Keyes’ song “Empire State of Mind” was nominated for something as well. Didn’t that song come out two years ago?! Let’s skip past the bad Mick Jagger performance and everything until we get to the now infamous Best New Artist category… dunh DunH DUNH!

The nominees were Drake, Mumford and Sons, Florence & the Machine, someone named Esperanza Spalding, and international boy toy Justin Bieber.

Clearly, you can guess who won? Is it really a question at this point who would win in this situation? All the Grammys are are a mass of pop artists and no one is a bigger pop artist than Justin Bieber. He is everywhere, he has a movie out, he is the current topic of every dream of every 12-16 year old girl and a lot of boys, after 16 he drops to about half of the dream topics until you reach mid-20’s, and then half of that for every 5 years after 25 and then shoots up back to 50% for women between 40-50 and then to finally close to 0% after 50, he accounts for 2% of Twitter traffic at any given moment, he did a guest appearance on every TV show last week to promote that damn movie, he’s in commercials, he is on the cover of magazines, and basically the media is trying to mentally force fuck our brains with this 5’3″ Canadian mop topped jailbait at all given moments during the day.

So who won?



This bitch! This jazzy bitch! This well… she doesn’t seem like a bitch at all. Her creamy cafe latte skin put a hex on those critics! Her wild afro of sexual prowess confused their brains! This evil, or perfectly nice lady with the legs and feet and pretty smile, temptress voodoo cursed the already simple minded Grammy folks and now they have forsaken this one and only category that was perfectly set-up for one and only one person to win and that, of course, is a little fella from the great white north that puts the smiles on the faces of all the 15 year old ladies, Justin Bieber.


Seriously, look at this kid. The Biebs is giving the reverse Peace sign, which does not mean he likes war, it actually means double the amount of peace. That’s what the fuck this kid is about. DOUBLE PEACE! That is just science. What is Esperanza Spalding about? She likes and plays jazz music. That’s one thing we know. She likes to be apart of international conspiracies to rob the teenagers of this world the only thing they could have possibly asked for for Christmas and that was a Justin Bieber Grammy for Best New Artist. We know that much. Is she a communist? Who isn’t these days? Right?! The President is supposedly a communist. If a smart man like Barack Obama could get roped into this communism, are we saying that the pinko commies are not smart enough to allure Esperanza Spalding? Yeah, I didn’t fucking think so!

What do we really know about this cellist succubus? She has soft lips like silk pillows? I’m guessing so. It looks like it. It really really looks like it. Her eyes penetrate into my soul making me want to terrible things to barely legal Canadian boys in her honor as to appease her like some Egyptian queen. AHHHH!!! SHE HAS ME UNDER HER SPELLS! IT IS ALL HER TRICKS!!! HER JAZZ TRICKS!

Finally! Thank you, Justin Bieber, for breaking that pretty lady witch’s sorcery. Here is Justin Bieber and Usher. I think we all know what I think of Usher – he is a national treasure. So much of a national treasure than Nicolas Cage should be hunting for Usher around the globe to solve some riddle regarding the founding fathers and the future destiny of mankind. I believe Usher is hiding a secret fortune of riches on him at all times. What are those riches? His friendship. And he shares that friendship with Justin Bieber. So… FUCKING BOOM! BOOM FUCKING BOOM! Are you telling me that a friend of other national treasures like Arnold Schwarzengger wouldn’t be a friend of yours? Are you telling me that you would like cross at a man like Sven Ole Thorsen? ARE YOU?! ARE YOU ESPERANZA SPALDING?!

Look at it this way –

A national treasure (Usher and/or Arnold Schwarzenegger)

is friends with someone (16 year old international pop sensation Justin Bieber and/or Danish actor, stuntman, bodybuilder, athlete and former World’s Strongest Man Sven-Ole Thorsen)

and wouldn’t you want to be friends with that person regardless of knowing anything else about them?

That person has to be a great person because national treasures only consort with other potential national treasures.

I just feel like I have to defend this Justin Bieber kid for two reasons:

1. He’s a 5’3″, 16 year old, pop star from Canada. He can’t defend himself. One thing makes him weaker than the next. There are some strong 5’3″ people out there, but they’re also not 16 and pop stars nor are they Canadian. He isn’t built for confrontations.

2. Who else will?

I feel like I’m all alone on this. I mean is there anyone else out there with the balls to take on the Grammys? Seriously, they are just too strong of an institution that they have probably all the governments of the world humming to their Esperanza Spalding tune. I heard that the riots in Egypt were because the Grammys wished for them to happen. And then they blew on a fallen eye lash and Mubarak resigned. You know that type of shit happens when the Grammys are involved. I heard the Grammys stopped production on Crystal Clear Pepsi and pulled the plug on The Wire. I heard they killed the Archduke Ferdinand and made Cameron Diaz annoying. I heard they boiled a kitten’s whiskers and made Dave Chappelle crazy. I heard they danced naked at sunrise, which created the Spiderman Broadway musical. And I believe last night, they stored all happy tears of a generation of young girls and confused middle age women and spread them over the remains of smashed Justin Timberlake CDs and cursed Justin Bieber into not winning Best New Artist.

If you’re thinking to yourself – maybe the Grammys like Jazz? First –


Secondly, Milli Vanilli won a Best New Artist award, so why not Justin Bieber? It is just seems idiotic.

And now as this fine upstanding young man has had his rightful legs taken out from underneath him, others are kicking him in the ribs… like Yahoo:

This is what the Bieber wore last night. I’m not in love with it, but they gave him a D-. They gave him as close to failure as possible regarding these clothes. The only way to fail at wearing clothes is by not wearing them and he is fully clothed. But a D-? They are cowards attacking this fallen child! And if you’re curious if they gave everyone a D-…

This received a B. B?! This was a B in Yahoo’s mind. I’m pretty sure that this wouldn’t fly in a restaurant or a Rite Aid. What the fuck?! This is a B?! That is way beyond a passing grade. Not only is it passing, but that is an endorsement for others to attempt to wear clothes such as these. That is the insanity that the Grammys has brought upon our society. Not a rightful award for the child whose laughter has brought many happiness and whose falsetto half rapping has been the anthem for many in their pursuit of not giving up on finding a teenage boy of their own dreams. Meanwhile, this gets a fucking B.

If you’re wondering – Lady Gaga’s egg scored higher than Justin Bieber in a tux.

A pox! A pox on all your houses!

Lastly, let me say that Harry Nilsson’s classic “Best Friend” is the title of this post and is also appropriate for Justin Bieber the gentle soul American ally that he is. Here are the lyrics –

People let me tell you ’bout my best friend,
He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me till the end.

People let me tell you bout my best friend,
He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy.

People let me tell you ’bout him he’s so much fun
Whether we’re talkin’ man to man or whether we’re talking son to son.

Cause he’s my best friend.
Yes he’s my best friend.
(scat finish).*

*I wish all my posts could end with a scat finish.

Today is an EXAMINATION!

YES! Yes! Yes. yes…

Today, we* will examine the infamous Oscar nominees picture?


Why indeed. Why indeed! We will do this, we will do this, we will do this… we will do this to…




Also to make fun of their stupid faces.

I hope you are well prepared with your Wantology text books for sale at a reasonable $79.99 from the Want Book Store on the corner of Want avenue and Want way because we will be needing them for this post.

*wemeaning me actually doing everything and you reading and judging me for what I’m doing like every day

Let’s begin with thee PICTURE!!!!!!!!

Look at their stupid faces! Ahhahahahaha! Look at all of their stupid faces! They’re so stu-peed! Obviously, this picture is too small to really delineate between who wants it and who is just pulling a stupid face, so I went through the courageous effort of blowing up the picture and cropping sections of the floating heads at a time to be thrown into the crucible. Basically, there will be an assload and/or asston of pictures in today’s post. I believe 30 to be exact.

Nevertheless, this picture I believe came out yesterday or the day before or the day before, but pretty recently. It is all the Oscar nominated actors, actresses, directors, writers, nerds who do the nerdy things like sound editing and so forth. They wrangled them all for this one picture. It is a wondrous picture because actors/actresses are generally in the category of “beautiful people” and then people with other “talents” like lighting beautiful people so they look more beautiful are usually in the second category of people “pig people”, which is where I the faceless blogger know my brethren well. I guess for hijinx the person who arranged this picture mixed in some of the beautiful people with some of the pig people (as it happens in nature) and there are some humorous moments of “oh that person is much more attractive to than the rest… oh wait it is Jeremy Renner. I know who that beautiful person is! How silly.”

I will start top left of the picture and then continue left to right as in reading English until I get to the top right and I’ll back track right to left as in reading Hebrew (typical Jew behavior) and continue doing this until I snake my criticism of each and everyone of these people until the VERY END! And it is a good ending, I’ll say that much.


They all seem to be pretty normal until you notice two things:

1. The guy’s afro second in from the left

2. The other guy at the top right smelling what the Rock is cooking.

Aside from that, it is a happy portly gentlemen and a cancer survivor and/or Mark Messier look alike convention.

No one particularly wants IT per say. I think the guy with Afro is trying to tell us his face looks like a square, but his hair is all rock and roll, so you two may want to head to a malt shop together for some liquor. The smelling what the Rock is cook and/or Colbert Report eyebrow guy doesn’t want it – he just thinks he is funny.

There is a lot of want in this picture. More want than I’m comfortable with. Take a look at all 6 of these gentlemen and it might give you nightmares and it might give you ideas, but these me want IT. Starting bottom left, I will point out John Hawkes just because I am happy John Hawkes was nominated for an Oscar. I didn’t see Winter’s Bone, but I would like to. Either way, Hawkes is a great actor and I’m glad he’s been recognized for it.

This picture is also the first of a trend – not just uncomfortable creepy want from older men – called TAN! There are some TAN or SUN BURNT people/dudes in this photo. Hawkes wants IT. The U shaped 4 guys want IT in the creepy “I’m across the pool wearing a tiny speedo and I’m thinking weird thoughts about you and you want to vomit thinking about weird thoughts about me face, but you know you still want IT” face. The 6th and final guy is wanting IT in a whole “I will stalk you home because I secretly know you love me” want IT face. Well done gentlemen.

Top left – Wants IT. Not a ton, but it’s there. The bottom two women are on a whole level of giddy that they must have not calmed down yet from seeing both James Franco and Mark Wahlberg in the same place at the same time. The guy in the middle is just having a good time. Bottom right that guy is too cool for school and looks like a pompous dick in this photo. Also, he is showing way too much chest hair around an underage girl. And finally, that underage girl is MISS AMERICA Hailee Steinfeld. SERIOUSLY! She needs to win and I repeat if you are a straight dude who has a shot at her – FUCKING LOCK IT UP!

Chesty La Rue in the red bottom left. I don’t want to be graphic, but even from this picture those things look huge. Good for her. Work it sister. Top two guys are nothing special. Top right was either surprise the photographer took the picture at the time he did or he is part squirrel. The guy in the middle freaks me out. The guy on the right just wants to be held. The Rooster is … a Rooster. And the bottom right guy wants IT like he is selling my Captain Morgan’s Old Spice deodorant. Also, I think I may have cropped a few of these people so you will get to see them twice. Good for all of us.

Top row: I’m so happy I’m standing next to Mark Wahlberg. I am Mark Wahlberg. I’m so happy I’ve decided to press myself up against Mark Wahlberg instead of touching these pig people. I am feel extra confident right now because Mark Wahlberg shook my hand and I’ve never felt more like a man than ever before.

Middle row: Without these glasses I’m so blind that I make you blind. I want IT. I’m just happy to be alive because of how old I am.

Bottom row: I’ve killed men who have taken less pictures of me. I smoked with James Franco in the parking lot and it was awwwweeesssssoooommmmee.

They all seem like nice people. The guy in the middle biting his lip is freaking me out. The guy on the bottom right may or may not be caught in the middle of a transformation between a human and a lizard creature with super powers. They call me the Chameleon. The guy on the bottom left is leery that a photo is being taken of him at all.

Top left may or may not be a British thug who muscled his way into this photograph. The woman two over was clearly a second or two off from when the picture was taken. And the guy below her wants IT and by IT I mean he wants you to see his ant farm.

Top left wants IT and appears to have a James Bond villain like scar on his face, which makes me think he wants it even more. Guy next to him is into it. Not wanting it, but just into this picture. Below him, Mark Ruffalo wants it. He wants it in all the whiny way that all of the characters he plays want IT. The blonde next to him wants IT because he wants IT and that could be said for the rest of his row. The bald guy next to him is into it knowing people will see him in the picture because Ruffles is there. Do people call Mark Ruffalo – Ruffles? If not they FUCKING should. The only other nickname outside of “overrated actor” or “the movie you just got nominated for sucks and I don’t know why it is nominated for anything” I could think of for Ruffalo would be “Buffalo”, but he does not exude any “Buffalo” traits. So Ruffles it is.

She’s adorable. And Colin Firth is her protector. Michelle is one of the few people in the picture who you can see their whole body. I think it is just her and Trent Reznor who is coming up next. She is like a little pixie. A little adorable and bangable pixie faerie with mystical powers. And Colin Firth is there so none of these people sully her by breathing on her.

Fuck yeah. Trent Reznor. He looks so uncomfortable with his face. I think even Trent wonders about how he has lived this many different lives. At some point he was a child then a struggling keyboard player in 80’s bands then a musical genius then a crazy drug addict then disappeared then a musical genius again and now he is a normal dude who gained weight and works for white collar companies. Love it. The woman finds Reznor sexy and she herself is feeling sexy and titillated standing next to this handsome yet brooding and dark individual and she is showing the world that. And the top row: wants IT like an old man, wants IT like a young boy and wants IT like a young boy who now is a young man aka the Bar Mitzvah wants IT.

Can you spot the beautiful pers — YEAH IT IS JENNIFER LAWRENCE and Jeremy Renner.

Jennifer is like a light. Actually she is a light. A light that shines in the darkness and allows us to see what future may lay ahead and helps us read the past so we do not make the same mistakes twice. She is a light behind the crazy bag lady hair of the woman in front of her. Meanwhile, Jeremy Renner wants IT. This is not Jeremy Renner’s first rodeo. He’s done this before. He’s had a camera pointed at him and he knows how to pull a blue steel right before the flash is taken. That’s how he got into this business. Turn out he’s a decent enough actor as well, but the guy was from the school of the Colin Farrell’s of this world. I’m pretty, but I’m gritty pretty so I’ll probably punch a guy at some point. The guy next to him looks like a weatherman and the guy next to him is Jesse Eisenberg. No one is more Jesse Eisenberg than Jesse Eisenberg. That guy is Jesse Eisenberg all the time. He knows it. He is comfortable in that uncomfortable skin.

Bottom left guy wants IT or holding back from laughing because he knows he is trying to wants IT that much. Middle bottom woman is kind of giving not necessarily a wants IT face, but more of an “I’ve had sex in a bar bathroom before drunk on martinis, so I know how to want IT”. Yeah, I said that that woman had sex in a public bathroom. PROVE. ME. WRONG. The other guy on the top right is burnt. He fell asleep in the sun. Just saying.

DUDES! Just a bunch of dudes here duding it up. What’s up ladies? We’re a bunch of dudes. Do you need any dudes? Because there are 8 dudes here waiting to do dude things. Need someone to be taught how to tie a half windsor tie? We can do that. We’re dudes. How about getting a beer and watching a Knicks game? Dudes. We’re on it. Need some loving? Dooooooodddddzzz.

Dork. Who showed up in the dork costume, am I right?

I have two things to say:

1. Natalie Portman is gorgeous. Always will be as well. There won’t be a year from now until the day she leaves this Earth ascending to Heaven on feathery snow white angel wings that she won’t look gorgeous. I’ll say that. You can take that to Vegas.

2. Javier Bardem is the man. Javier doesn’t look like a sex symbol in this picture AT ALL and I fucking love it. I don’t care what you all think – you know he doesn’t look good here. Javier Bardem knows there is work time and there is play time. During the working hours – Javier Bardem is a sexy Latin feast of a man. During play time he is eating Latin feasts and gaining weight on sangria. And GOOD FOR HIM. He knocked up Penelope Cruz and that is a feet on par with climbing Everest. Less men have knocked up Penelope Cruz than climbed Mount Everest. Think about it. Also, Javier Bardem is a fucking actor. This is his third time being nominated for an Academy Award. Third. Two of those nominations (best actor) were for films in Spanish. Fucking suck the fuck on that. No one does that except for Javier Bardem. He has more talent in one of his greasy tequila soaked pores than the whole lot of actors in the theaters with new movies out right now. Impregnates hot women, is excellent at his job and gains weight – love it. He’s a hero.

Outside of the Rod Stewart hair… what else is there to say? Seriously? What else is there to say? The guy below him kind of looks like a mentally handicapped Pete Rose? I could say that. I could say that, but it sounds mean, so let’s stick to the fucking Rod Stewart and/or keyboardist for Bon Jovi hair. That’s all you need right there.

Pretty tame. Six people. Three guys. Three girls. Not much to say really. I don’t know why you feel like I should make fun of every single person. What did these people do to deserve any scorn from me? They seem perfectly fine to me. Thoroughly fine. I bet each and every one of them would be nice of enough to hold a door or say thank you. I don’t understand why you want me to hate on all of them. It’s really a sickness. You should get that checked out.

DUDES! Fucking dudes! Obviously, the guy in the middle is staring a want hole right through your urethra right now. That is some weird stuff. The guy to his left and our right is playing a little coy. Oh I don’t know if I should smile for this picture or not. Top row baldy wants IT. He’s trying a little too hard, but he does want IT. He clearly doesn’t not want IT – if you catch my drift. And the guy in the glasses to the left is BURNT! Like he was filming a remake of The Last of the Mohicans and he was a Mohican.

Going from right to left they are getting progressively younger and less like an Italian mobster. At the right, he may be an Italian mobster from Bayonne. The middle is like an Italian mobster who lives in Fort Lauderdale. And to the left is a proper English gentleman. Left doesn’t want IT because he is way too proper and maybe A-sexual. Guy in the middle wants IT like a Tom Jones concert. And the guy on the right may not realize he is even in this picture.

Fake ass Bradley Cooper. That’s all I see in this picture. Remember when Bradley Cooper was going to be the next big thing after The Hangover and then he made other movies that were not The Hangover and everyone realized he would not be the next big thing? I do. His new movie with Robert DeNiro actually offends me it looks so bad. Limitless? Limitless it should be called This looks like shit. Not as catchy, but I think you get the point.


The guy next to Franco who is happy to be in the picture and to be near a beautiful person who I would bet shook his hand. And then red haired dude with the glasses who wants IT.

Seriously, it is hard to hate James Franco. I feel like there are many reasons to hate him in the same way there are reasons to hate any great looking man who makes a lot of money and movies and girls want him and then he turns out not to be a dumbass like you hope and pray he is to knock him down to size and then you realize he probably listens to just as good music as you do and you really have no leg up on him in any category ever and in all likelihood you could probably meet him and he would be really nice and if it wasn’t for all this spite you have towards him for winning at everything you secretly wish he was your best friend and the two of you could play catch in the park with smiles on your faces and high as kites. Garret Hedlund is not the next Brad Pitt. James Franco already is the next Brad Pitt. He’s already here and has been.

Far right is BURNT, but owns it. Guy in the middle may or may not be cumming in his pants brushing up against sexy lady to the left. This woman does not look overly Hispanic, but when I look at this picture the only thing I can think of is Sean Paul’s “Get Busy”… Yo sexy ladies want par with us …In a the car with us …Them nah war with us …In a the club them want flex with us …To get next to us …Them cah vex with us…… those are the actual lyrics. Fucking ridiculous.



Ignore the “struggling” “misunderstood” “tortured” director at the top of the screen. Ignore him. He pretends like he doesn’t want to be noticed, but he clearly wants to be noticed. Let’s jump pass the reasonables in the middle. Lady pants over here is a confident woman. I would be comfortable asking her to raise my children and/or handle nuclear weapons codes. Lastly and amazingly, THIS MAN’S BRAIDED GOATEE! Velor smoking jacket aside which is just muah wonderful, but this braid job on the silver rat tail coming from his FACE is unbelievable. This man has the confidence of 80 George Clooney’s stuffed into a giant Alec Baldwin. You get what I’m putting down? Fucking A plus sir. Fucking perfect score.

Not much to say outside of Darren Aronofsky rules at life as much as he does as a film maker. Blue suit? Fucking mustache? That isn’t a “mustache”. That is a fucking mustache. Sweet fucking mustache there Darren. He fucking knows it too. Him and his buddies talk about it constantly. There is no misconception here. This isn’t by accident. They all know how sweet that fucking mustache is like he is a Musketeer and they all give him pats on the back about it.

LEGS! SHE’S GOT LEGS! And she knows how to use them!

These next few pictures are weird because this is what they did. I don’t how to describe it better than that without ruining it. So easily one of the top three most beautiful women in this photo is being hid. They hid Amy Adams. Hid her. WHY?!!! She’s so pretty. Why hide her? What could she have possibly done to deserve this? This is absolutely asinine. She should be paraded around on the back of oiled up non-rioting Egyptians on a golden sled where the sun massages her radiant soft skin.

But… she is instead hidden. Hidden behind this…

Hello, I am Academy Award winner Jeff Bridges and this is my bitch, Annette Benning.

WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?! Did they run out of chairs? Or was it always planned out to not have Christian Bale there (have you seen him? I haven’t) and to have Annette Benning to ride the lap of Misseur BreeGees? Just weird stuff. Although, Annette Benning couldn’t care less because I don’t find her particularly with it. She seems nice and everything, but when she smiles I get a vacant look in her eyes like she’s running on auto-pilot. And Bridges is Cheech and Chong aka James Franco level high, so he couldn’t care less. You want me to have this broad in the skirt sit on my lap? Yeah, cool man, get her over here.

Not only is this odd situation hiding the more than attractive Amy Adams, but it is also hiding…

Nicole Kidman! Does this photographer got something about great looking redheads? I mean what the WTF man? That’s not cool. Are Amy Adams and Nicole Kidman supposed to be the devil and angel on the shoulders of stoned Jeff Bridges? It’s weird to hide them like this. Meanwhile, these two are a couple I suppose with the odd sort of holding each others’ arms thing they got going on. He looks like a more attractive Bob Odenkirck and she looks like a more attractive David Cross. So that works.

Rick Baker brings it. I don’t when exactly Rick Baker saw the burning bush and realized he should go with this look of the silver hair, pony tail, dark mustache, silver goatee look, but he’s been rocking it forever and looks immaculate doing it. I think he is absolutely the only man on this Earth pulling off this look this successfully. If they made a movie about Rick Baker’s life post-mortem then they would need to use CGI to recreate that man’s achievements on his head.

The other two to the left are fine, but the question is what is the man next to Baker staring at? What has his attention? There is something to his right and our left that is drawing his eye. What on Earth could it be? Is it a monkey riding a tricycle? Is it a clown juggling flaming swords? What could it be?!


Boobs is what it is. Boobs as it should be. Thank you Helenanananalennananenanana Bonham Carter for your boobs. You dressed for success today with your boobs. And we thank you. The man in the middle is either an older worse looking Jared Leto or a man who is wildly uncomfortable next to the BOOBS. And the last man in the foreground has never heard of wheat or granola or gyms, but he knows the words bacon and extra cheese like the back of his plump hand and I fucking love him for it. Fuck good looking people buddy. You’re getting nominated for the same dumbass award as they have and you haven’t had to run a near marathon a day to stay in shape to do it. Mark Wahlberg’s a few rows up from you and he’s been training 6 times a week to have a set of abs so hard and defined I could catch a grappling hook on them, but you sir have been eating sides of beef 4 square meals a day for the past 20 years and you two are still in the same dumbass room. He’s fucking lucky to even be in the room. He personally wasn’t nominated for shit. He’s a producer in this room because for whatever reason people think The Fighter is a much better movie than it is. But you sir… you take the cake and eat it and then eat someone else’s cake when they’re not looking and you’re a fucking A grade success, so fuck him and fuck diabetes because it is a government conspiracy that you get just because you enjoy a pack or 18 of zebra cakes because the Jonas Brother, Jay Cutler and Bret Michaels all have it and they’re all in shape. So fuck em.

Also, BOOBS!

I’m done. This has been about 4000 words and I’ll see you on Thursday.

One, two, three, four, five… ok now it is over 4000 words.

Seriously? Right?

Super Bowl? BOWL! Bowling? The SUPERBOWL!!!!!

It could be like the bowlers are on top of a giant waterslide and the pins are at the other end (obviously) and they have to get their bowling ball to ride that wild untameable waterslide to the collision with those pins.








Seriously, this literally is a PERFECT idea. Has anyone done this? Am I thinking about something that has already been done? I feel like Einstein right now. This is what Einstein must’ve felt like. Thinking perfect thoughts. Perfectly constructed and articulated thoughts that would work out perfectly in every possible perfect scenarios conclusion. I’m a thought thinker! An Einsteinian perfect thought thinker!!!!
















I guess we’ll have to figure out how to get the NFL to give up the name “Super Bowl”. They probably have that ish trademarked.

Stupid Super Bowl.

I loved you like you were my only child and now you have abandoned me like my actual only Tobias did.


Super Bowl?

I’m rooting for the Steelers.

Have a great weekend.

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