Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Diary of a Devil Spawn

Well, it's happened at last. Finally - the Hollywood Satan spawn has been unleashed into the world. The foul fruit of Tom Cruise's and Katie Holmes loins hath been born.

{Insert lightning bolts, thunder, and other real wrath of God type stuff here}

Thank God!

Of course, this just means that now all the up-to-the-minute pregancy updates will just be replaced on the news racks with all new baby updates as the whole vicious tabloid machine just keep chugging away in search of it's meaty headlines. Heavens forbid, if the magazines should ever go an issue without it's assortment of indepth exposes on the babies every shit, puke, or drool.

The stories are already abound over how Tom, the clever dick he is, used decoys to get his fiancée and new-born child away from the Santa Monica hospital without being followed by the ever-present paparrazzi only 12 hours after the birth of his 7lb 7oz baby Suri on Tuesday.

Wait? Suri? What the fuck kind of name is that? Sounds like some type of cheap-ass import car. Who's going to play with someone named Suri? Okay, maybe Apple Martin, but who else?

The child is only a little over a week old but already the stories it must have to tell if it could actually speak.

Just imagine those first few journal entries:

April 18th

Well, here I am. Boy, who's been doing all that screaming and yelling for the past half hour? I thought we agreed on one of them "Silent Birth" dealies? Wait, this isn't the fancy manion I was expecting either...this is just, just, a regular hospital! Oh, the shame of it all! Why not just drop me into a paper sack. I thought that mom and pop were supposed to be, like, uber-rich or something? I was promised to be delivered into a big fat pile of beautiful crisp dollar what gives here?

At least mom seems pretty nice. Nice wholesome smile. Nice knockers. But wait a second ... who's that idiot over there? Does he ever stop jumping up and down like that? He's beginning to give me a headache. Wait! What's he doing now? Sweet Jesus, Doc! You're not going to give him the scissors are you? Oh good, NO! But now whats this? Why's he coming at me with his mouth open like that? Good God o' Mighty! He's not! Is he he really eating that shit?!

April 19th

Spend most of the day today nursing by the poolside. Man, this sure is the life.

We were visited today by a nice couple, Kelly Preston and some guy who smells like Geritol. While Kelly and my mom talked about their epidurals (or the "good shit" as they referred to it in whispers) the Geritol guy and the other dipshit debated about the existance of spiritual creatures called Thetans who inhabit our physical bodies and regaining awareness, or someother horseshit. It gives me a headache but at least he isn't jumping around. I think I'l express my own awareness by crapping myelf.

April 20th

Today, mom showed me some videos of her on television and in the movies. I fell asleep during Season One of something called "Dawson's Creek" and the "Batman Returns" made me cry - it was terrible! I thought I was going to born into talent! But seeing mommy in Batman did make me very hungry although I'm not altogether too sure why.

The dipshit was around as well today and was raving on and on endlessly about how we can communicate with other forms of life through telepathy, leave the body at will ("exteriorize") and control physical reality through pure thought...or some shit like that. I wish somebody would just duct tape this idiots lips closed. Like, enough with the hokus-pokus, dude. You're an idiot. Shut up. He did buy me like a cajillion pairs of French-tailored baby clothes today though - so at least that got him out of here for a few hours so I could nurse in peace.

April 21st

Okay, I'm beginning to get tired of the dipshit rambling on about all this Scientology nonsense. Does he ever shut up? If I have to hear anymore about Operating Thetan levels I'm going to scream bloody murder for the next 8 months. Even when that other lady with the delicious boobies was here visiting earlier - whats her name...oh yeah, Kirstie Alley - he just doesn't stop. Likewise, I'm also getting tired of hearing "Chocolate Salty Balls" being played all the time. Why can't I just get a 'Baa Baa Black Sheep' like everyone else? What is with this guy? Mommy must have had some pretty strong stuff in her nightcap that night when they made me.

April 22nd

That's it! I'm tossing in the towel. I know it's only been four days n' all, but - send me back into the light! PLEASE! I beg of you! I just can't stand being this boner's child any longer. Sure, sure, it's all swanky Black Tie suares and luxury yachts, but if I have to listen to this high-strung dimwit ramble on about his spiritual beliefs any longer I'm inevitably going to grow up to be more suicidal than a manic-depressive dentist.

Take me back - for the love of God - take me back!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

"Three Cheers for Satan!"

I met a Satanist today. Yep. A real, live, flesh and blood Satanist.

There he was sitting in the front row this past Monday morning, clad all in black, and just as plain as the dog-eared copy of the Satanic Bible in his hand.

Now there's a great way to make a first impression on the job, huh? Sit in the front row and read Satanic literature. Clearly, here's a guy who's either not too worried about working his way up the corporate ladder too quickly, or he's seen one too many episodes of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. Who's going to promote someone who may perform an animal sacrifice at the next team meeting or, maybe, spend their lunch break sitting in a bell tower with a high-powered deer rifle?

Not me - thats for sure!

Now don't get me wrong, I have a whole lot of tolerance for a whole lot of different types of people - but a SATANIST? Man, I just don't know on this one. This news kind of took me aback a little bit. It was definitely not part of the coterie of cons for which I am normally accustomed to dealing with.

I mean, is this guy going to put a hex on me or something should I, heavens forbid, ever have to deliver some kind of verbal reprimand? Or, maybe, he is secretly collecting my fingernail clippings in order to perform some dark ritual at home in his basement inside a candlelit pentagram so that my Charlie Browns shrivel up the next day like California raisins hanging from a vine.

But then I thought more about it. So he's a Satanist - whats does all that entail exactly?

Previously to ever having met this guy, I just thought that a Satanist was anyone who could manage to name more than three Black Sabbath albums. And all I knew about the practise of Satanism itself was what I saw in the 'First Power'. Now, as much as I love my Lou Diamond Phillips movies, I'm also pretty equally sure that he's no authority on the Dark Arts.

Then there's my DVD player - but we're not going there again.

I just never really thought of Satanism as a legitmate form of pious worship before. Who in their right fucking mind wakes up one morning and decides: "You know, this whole 'love your fellow man' bullshit is really not my cup of tea - I want to bath in goats blood and fornicate with devils."

I was always taught to believe that Satanists were pure evil incarnate; the kind of person who eats babies for breakfast and snorts puppies for a rush. You know, someone like, say, Geraldo Rivera.

But here was this Satanist in the front row...smiling at me no less. Surely he can't be all that evil can he?

So, besides offering this young Dark Lord my copy of Mojo Magazine with the featured cover story on "The Dark Side of Rock and Roll", I decided to make an honest effort to explore, and hopefully, attempt to understand his self-professed Satanic beliefs. Besides, it's not like God has been doing me any real favors lately, has he? You'd think that by now he'd at least have given me the winning lucky lottery numbers at least once.


Luckily, through the miracle that is Google, I stumbled upon a website, appropriately known as ''.*

Upon first opening this Satanic website, I was immediately to learn that Satanists don't actually believe in Satan.

Huh? That seemed kind of rediculous. Buddhists believe in Buddha. Christians believe in Christ. Hindu's believe in that strange multi-armed pink elephant thing - whatever it is.** Muslims believe in Mohammed. Why do Satanists have to be so damn difficult - or that their bag? After all, Satanists don't really give the impression that they could ever be mistaken as "mainstream" (not that sitting in dark corners tracing pentagrams in the palms of your hands in red marker and brooding over books of magic spells isn't cool n' all). Satanism has been referred to, then, as an "unreligion" in the sense that it does not subscribe to the notion of an anthropomorphic deity and, by extension, some being who must be worshiped, its most common misconception.

Satanism was originally founded by Anton Szandor LaVey in 1966 as a means to meet impressionable stoned out rock stars. And if the odd midnight orgy should ever occur in some graveyard somewhere - all the better. LaVay created "a religion and a philosophy based on man as he really is: a carnal being free from the fiction that is spirituality and one who champions total responsibility, pragmatism, and the here-and-now."

Whoah, there, sailor! You had me at "carnal".

Lets just get to brass tacks here - does that mean I'm going to get laid? Because I can sure get with down with some of that Funky cold Medina.

Satanism is further described as being a de facto personality type as, in the words of Anton LaVey, "Satanists are born, not made." To try is to lie. It takes a certain set of predispositions to accurately label oneself a Satanist***, to naturally feel at home with all that Satanism entails. Satanism, as a philosophy, can be potentially taken and learned from by a large percentage of the population, but this does not make one a Satanist, but, perchance, Satanic.

Okay, somebody pass the purple koolaid because I'm not following anymore. Do you worship Satan or not? Are you a Satanist or just merely Satanic? Make up your fucking minds already! By the time I figure all this shit out the High Priest of the Church of Satan himself, Peter H. Gilmore****, will have converted to Taoism.

In Satanism, Satan is just an archetype, a representation of certain qualities that the Satanist embodies including rational self-interest, avoidance of oppressive mentalities, the questioning of all, and a perseverance towards success and human potential. The Satanic Bible encapsulates this iconography in The Nine Satanic Statements, including thus:

I - Satan represents indulgence, instead of abstinence!

VIII - Satan represents all of the so-called sins, as they all lead to physical, mental, or emotional gratification!

How awesome does that sound?! You mean I get to eat, drink, fuck, steal, snort, smoke, screw, and the kick the ass of anything that should happen to cross my path?

Fuckin-A! Sign me up.

Any religious manifesto that ends all of it's Sacred Commandments with exclamation marks is cool in my books.

* It was a good day of creative possession at the office of Satanism Inc. that day!

** I couldn't worship a pink elephant. How would I ever finish my prayers without cracking up?

*** Not to mention cahones the size of grapefruits.

**** No, not the guy from Pink Floyd, dipshit.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

The Amazing Disgrace

I have a new addiction in life: The Amazing Race.

What's not to love? Cranky-ass Amercians bitching their way around the globe. If that doesn't scream entertaining Reality Television, then I don't know what does. At the very least, it's sure better than a kick in the mouth with a golf shoe.

Compared to the other excruciating broadcast menutiae you find on television these days The Amazing Race is probably the least likely to induce you into a brain coma like that Dog the Bounty Hunter-slash-Dudley Dipshit guy. I'd rather spend the evening frosting Bea Arthur's pubic hair than be lured into watching this self-righteous mulleted moolyak round up another rough and tumble homeless person on the mean streets of Hawaii. Ooooo, real hero stuff.

"Cowabunga!", you queerbait.

It can't be denied that The Amazing Race, currently in it's ninth season, certainly has it's highlite Ugly American moments and quoteable quips. How many other shows offer you the insiders chance to follow teams of bumbling retards on a hurried trip around the world? Just take a look at this season's crop of winners:

Take "Life-long Friends" for example, Scott Braginton-Smith and John Lowe. Scott is a 41-year-old working in sales from West Harwich, MA. John is a 38-year-old wealth manager from Dorchester, MA. Both are more flaming than a hairdresser on fire. Thankfully, these two bitchtits were the first eliminated from the race and thereby secured the shows promise for all of it's future episodes. Honestly, the producers should have left their whiney asses back on the streets of Sao Paolo for being so pathetically helpless.

"Sisters" Joni Glaze and Lisa Hinds. Joni is a 44-year-old children’s minister from Katy, TX. Lisa is a 48-year-old realtor/artist from Santa Rosa Beach, FL. Great, two screaming holy rollers from the South; just what the world needs more of. But here, once again, the sweet stroke of luck has these two self-proclaimed "Glamazons" eliminated in a puddle of their own piss at the end of the second episode. Boy, the Lord may work in mysterious ways, but he sure knows how to make for exciting television! Pass them a wet nap and fade to black.

There's the "Mother And Daughter" team of Desiree Cifre and Wanda Lopez-Rochford. Desiree is a 24-year-old writer from New York, NY. Wanda is a 44-year-old corporate trainer from Smyrna, GA. As fortunate as we were to see Wanda conquer her fear of deep water at the Chaika Bassein, an outdoor Olympic training pool in Moscow, one has to wonder; if you claim that your fear is based on not being able to swim and then you suddenly start swimming normally after you jump into the pool from a highdiving platform, you must be a complete idiot.

I get the feeling that at each challenge, half of the people conveniently and dramatically claim it's their "worst fear ever". As in: 'my worst fear ever is diving to the bottom of a pool'. You know what my worst fear ever is? It's trying to find a something small, hidden out in plain site, but in a strange place I've never been before. Gee, I hope they never make me do that!

But I'll go along with it and suspend my disbelief momentarily for the sake of quality shit television - because the hot mom and daughter team were eliminated next anyways.

Now, oh yes, "Childhood Friends" Dani Torchio and Danielle Turner. Both are 22-year-old recent college graduates from Staten Island, NY. Affectionately known as the "Pinks", or the "Double D's". I'm not sure where the matching pink t-shirts and touques idea came from exactly, but it made them look like too penises bobbing through the alleyways of Palermo. These girls are the reason why all the world loves a good blonde joke.

"Auf Weidersehen"
, bitches!

Representing the boyfriend/girlfriend teams are "Dating Couple" David Spiker and Lori Willems. David is a 30-year-old musician while Lori is a 22-year-old Pizza Hut Manager. Whoah - a Pizza Hut Manager? Way to flaunt life's successes there Lori. Both are from Manhattan, KS. The schmoopy nerds in love. Now once you get over the impulse to stab yourself in the ear with a sharp object over the fact that these two spend more time in liplock than Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee, you find that these two are quite amusing to watch. I can see what's behind the curtain on whats going on here. There is something in Dave's stoic unconditional love for Lori that just isn't right. Maybe it was the way he reduced himself to tears over how frustrated he got watching his love muffin assemble naked man parts in Greece, or the incessant nagging from the back seat - "I'm glad you're being so unilateral in thsi decision making" - but something tells me that Dave is about to snap and bitchslap Lori with a patened 'Ike Turner Special' over his being constantly henpecked. I was just beginning to anticipate the eventual fallout, when I blinked, and suddenly they too were eliminated.

And now we're down to the final contenders to the Idiot's Cup.

Not to be outdone, there's "Dating Couple" Yolanda Brown-Moore and Ray Whitty. Yolanda is a 27-year-old science teacher while Ray is a 31-year-old attorney. Both are from Chicago, IL. Say no more.

Next, "Dating Couple" Monica Cayce and Joseph Meadows. Monica is a 23-year-old student from Fayetteville, AR. Joseph is a 23-year-old homebuilder from Fort Smith, AR. These two are about as plain as white boiled rice with a side of dust bunnies and I look forward to toasting their ultimate demise in the race later on in the season.

There's "Married 40 Years Couple" Barry Lazarus and Fran Lazarus. Barry is a 63-year-old retired physician while Fran is a 61-year-old retired accountant. The couple lives in Silverthorne, CO. I like to refer to this team as "American Gothic". Something tells me that these two foagies are not what they appear to be at first glance. I bet they are really the type of people who secretly dabble in latex bondage wear and oriental fuck baskets in their bedroom dungeon at home. I half expect to see them on an episode of Kink on the Showcase Channel sometime. But I've actually been cheering for these old codgers. Not because I empathize or appreciate what they are going through in competing with the other younger teams, but because I enjoyed watching Fran dangle from a grappling line above a waterfall. That's some funny shit - let me tell you! Why is it that these two miss just about every sign or clue they look for? It's like watching Ray Charles work his way through a garden maze. But, somehow, they always manage to squeak in at second to last and thereby avoiding that looming elimination.

There's bosom buddies "Friends" Jeremy Ryan and Eric Sanchez. Jeremy is a 26-year-old waiter while Eric is a 27-year-old waiter. Both are from Fort Lauderdale, FL. It's all "fauxhawks" galore with "Team Hard On", the horny surfer twosome from the Spring Break capital of the world. Like you'd expect, these guys have all the culture and class of toilet bugs. It's amazing to me that these guys continue to finish at the top of the pack each week considering they have to stop and check out their reflections in every mirror, window, or other reflective surface that they may pass en route to their final destination. But you have to applaud their overall enthusiasm; "Damn! We have to beat those hippies!" Now thats the kind of no nonsense headcracking conservative competetivness that is winning the world over today, don'cha think? These are the two schmoes that I love to hate. Every episode I sit and anticipate the moment they get turned around and bump into an organized band of banditos in the middle of Buttfuck, Idaho who hack them to bits and make windchimes out of their genitals.

How about "Married Parents" Michelle Garner and Lake Garner? Michelle is a 36-year-old homemaker while Lake is a 37-year-old dentist. The couple lives in Hattiesburg, MS. Ahh, the rednecks. These two have all the brains that God gave a ducks ass. I mean to say, the guys name is Lake, for Christ sakes - how smart can he really be? It's a pretty safe bet I figure that you can expect to find everything from rusted out automobiles to kitchen sinks in this couples front yard. To boot, they have the grammatical prowess of retarded hedgehogs; which is funny when they try to communicate with the local Europeans. It's like watching the monkeys poking aimlessly at a 'Speak n' Spell in 'Project X'. Lake is like a hyper child without his Ridalin as he drags his browbeaten wife around. It's this team, however, that provides some of the more noteworthy of Ugly American comments, such as: "All I know about Russia is that they smoke and drink a lot." Oh well, there goes 25 years of Glasnost. It was a good run. My particular favorite is watching these two hicks "yeehawing" their way Pit Stop challenges. Michelle is putting together marble statues of Greek statues and there's Lake behind her cheering like Dale Earnhardt had just taken the checkered flag while riding a unicycle.

Bravo, asshat! Your wife is fondling a stone dick on national television.

And lastly, there's "Best Friends" BJ Averell and Tyler Macniven. BJ is a 26-year-old online tutor from Los Angeles, CA. Tyler is a 25-year-old filmmaker from San Francisco, CA. These two are like bad morning radio talkhost hosts - Jizzbomb and the Boner - but you just can't help but love these guys. They're just so fucking contagious - and I don't mean in the genital herpes sense either. Did you notice the look of total gnarlyness on their fwaces when they won the bonus prize for being the first finishing team? It was watching an outtake from 'Bill & Ted's Excellent European Adventure'. "DIGITAL IMAGING?! Whoaaaaaaaaa!" These dudes, who more resemble the average 'phatti maximus' who just happened to vear off course during Phish tour, would be excited to leap face first into a pile of dogshit should it be suddenly demanded of them. They're probably just riding out the buzz from some mysterious brownies purchased in some parkinglot somewhere and you just can't help but love that. Besides, in how many other arenas will you ever be able to route for hippies and not have to fear being tasered?

Well, okay, snowboarding maybe...but I digress.

Yep, I'm not leaving my couch on Wednesday evenings for all the drugs in Tom Cruise's closet. I'm already masterbating over the potential scenario's during the final leg of the race. Barry and Fran will be eliminated next when Barry gets helplessly trapped inside a latex vacuum bodybag in an Amsterdam fetish club. Ray and Yolanda will be forced to drop from the race when Ray mistakenly volunteers to "Swim with Man-Eating Beasts" after first revealing his rabid fear of sharks. Monica and Joseph, well, meh, who gives a shit. Jeremy and Eric will place last in the next leg after spending 17 hours "fixing their hair for all the hunnies" in the riew view mirror of their vehicle, but instead realize their deep Brokeback Mountain love for one another. Lake and Michelle go next after Lake is sidetracked at a Klan rally in the backwoods of Norway.

That leaves BJ and Tyler with the ultimate prize.

Unfortunately, only seconds after winning, their extreme juvenile excitement causes them both to suffer massive brain aneurysms and they drop like sacks of wheat germ.