Random Shit Pissing Me Off

New Shows on Adult Swim
I was a loyal Adult Swim viewer until shows like Tom Goes to the Mayor started stinking up the AS lineup. The awful shows AS continued to air and debut were numerous and more disappointing than a BJ from a hooker with cottonmouth (so I’ve been told). For example, The Boondocks, 12 oz. Mouse, Squidbillies, and Moral Orel: These shows are so bad, when I first saw them they made me doubt the existence of a divine being. Countless times throughout the centuries, philosophers have asked “If there is a god, how can he let such terrible things happen?” Usually because it’s funny. This time, though, it wasn’t funny. These shows stunk more than a ten-year-old trunk full of used porno magazines in a hobo encampment.

As with everything else in life, things just got worse. AS’s latest batch of shit cookies—i.e., new shows—are possibly the worst yet.

Tim and Eric of Tom Goes to the Mayor infamy return with Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job. Who the fuck keeps giving these assholes TV shows? Tim and Eric suck harder than a desperate junky trying to fellate a fix out of Kurt Cobain’s corpse. And, as always, anyone who doesn’t like the show just “doesn’t get it.” Bullshit. The show is an insult to anyone with a sense of humor. Although, if I ever have a shaman high on jungle drugs remove a large portion of brain through my nose with a chicken bone, I’m sure I’ll suddenly think the show is hilarious. At that point, I just hope I’m able to laugh like an imbecile without drowning in my own drool.

Saul of the Mole Men is a new show about as appealing as a fat baby with pinkeye. Overall plot: A boneheaded, mustachioed, Midwestern geologist ends up at the center of the earth (or something). He walks around for a while. There’s a queer Brit with a tambourine in there somewhere. The geologist fucks around with some retarded muppets. The viewer feels like a schmuck for watching and contemplates sending a box of dog turds to Adult Swim headquarters for revenge.

Assy McGee is about a talking ass that is also a cop…. Watching this show will give you Down Syndrome.

X-Treme Products/Marketing for Kids
“Hey, kids! Look at the sick packaging on our latest product! We used so many bright colors it could give a colorblind dyslexic a goddamn seizure! Can you read the text we used? Shit yeah, you can! It’s so big even a dumb kid like you can read it! Sound it out, stupid! Now get on your radical skateboard and ollie like a motherfucker over your baby brother! Hey! You know what’s really cool? Sucking the shit out of an electric eel’s ass! Hey! You know what else? If you eat food that can’t be crammed down your throat hole on the go, you’re obviously a little faggot on his way to fat-ass town! Now, squeeze the yogurt out of this tube, put on the latest Kidz Bop CD to hear the ‘kid friendly’ version of your favorite Good Charlotte song, and tempt fate by streaking through public restrooms in bad areas of town! Extreme! Killer, bro!”

Anna Nicole Smith-Related “News”
Am I the only one that finds it just a bit ironic—or stupid, I’m not quite sure which—that more people want Anna Nicole Smith’s body now that she’s dead? Sure, her life was like three train wrecks getting blown up by a dirty bomb, but I still don’t care what they do with her corpse. They could trebuchet the motherfucker into the ocean and it wouldn’t change my life in any conceivable way. I’ll just be glad when the E! network is the only channel covering the aftermath of Anna Nicole’s passing, and all trials related to her are consigned to special episodes of The People’s Court.

Britney Spears
It’s obvious she shaved her head so her hair couldn’t be tested for traces of drugs she smoked out of a round, glass pipe, but if she wanted more attention, she should have just posed naked for something. You know, do some classy pictorials to make up for her low-brow beaver flashing. Trailer Trash Ass magazine probably would have featured her. It’s no Playboy or anything, but it did wonders for the career of Missy Burke. Missy was a poor girl from a poor family in Alabama, but after she posed for Trailer Trash Ass, her confidence was boosted so much she finally had the guts to start stripping. She was a smash hit and made enough money to trade up from a meth addiction to a classy cocaine addiction. She then had a number of operations to fix her many physical flaws. After some additional dental work and a lot of recovery time, Missy was ready for Hollywood. She auditioned for every role in Hollywood. She did a few “art films” and then had to take some time off to let her jaw heal after an embarrassing accident during a casting session. Shortly thereafter she was picked to star in a little movie by the name of Fast Times in Ridgemont High. That movie launched her illustrious Hollywood career. Of course, now you know her by her new name: Sean Penn.

(Insert Ethnicity Here) Time
I’ve heard myriad tardy-due-to-ethnicity excuses in my day: people on Brazilian time, Indian time, Filipino time, Mexican time, Pygmy time, Hobbit time, etc. Here’s an example:

Me: “Dude, why are you so late?”
Person in Alternate Time Zone: “I’m not late. I’m on Mexican time.”

That’s really cute and all well and good, but I’m on white time, i.e., on time (because, apparently, we crackers don’t know any better). I’m sick of showing up to events unusually early because I was unaware the host expected everyone attending to be running on Inca time or some shit. Unbeknownst to me, the last event I attended was scheduled in Mongol time; I was so early, they hadn’t even tuned the Morin Khurrs and the Airag wasn’t fully fermented. I looked like such an ass.

So for fuck’s sake, on the invitation specify which time we’re going by so I can synchronize my watch with the sundial on the Temple of the Sun in Machu Picchu … or wherever these ethnically esoteric time zones have their origin.

Who am I kidding? I never get invited to shit, so this really isn’t a problem for me.

Reggae
I swear to Odin, the next time I hear the lyrics “legalize it” accompanied by repetitive, wah-pedal-tinged guitar strumming, I’m punching an irie motherfucker in the throat.

The Academy Awards
Wow, a bunch of pea-brained celebrities blowing ego loads all over each other. It’s even worse than all of those geriatric orgies Susan Sarandon throws in the bushes by the big Hollywood sign on Mt. Lee.

Crappy Cell Phone Ringtones
When I worked at ****** & ****** Magazine one of the ad sales girls had a ringtone of a baby laughing. Who the fuck intentionally picks a ringtone of a baby laughing? That’s creepy as hell. This particular girl would often leave the office for long periods of time and forget her cell phone. So every time one of her equally stupid friends would call her at work to talk about how many teachers they had to fuck to get through high school, it sounded like someone was tickling an infant in the other room. Not that I advocate violence against women, but I wouldn’t have been upset if someone crammed that cell phone up the bitch’s uterus and kicked her out a window.