Monday, February 19, 2007

Insane, Britney shears in public, then surgically attaches mane to bald pussy to assure no more bad pubic publicity... and what does this mean?

More to the point, do I care? Heck, maybe she enjoyed it when her gash was splashed all over the news, and so she's decided to shave it all off... I dunno. She may very well be going down the Anna Nicole hole, which is too bad, but then again, at least her survivors will be well taken care of financially. Call me cruel for saying that, but come on?! Get it together people, I can't even pay my bills, make rent or headway in my career, and here's a couple people shitting it away. I mean I see a women wearing just a box in fucking 15 degree weather on the streets of New York during a record horrible winter, and I'm supposed to give a naked mole rats ass that Britney is having a nervous breakdown?! Ok, maybe there is nothing more important then finding out exactly who America's Next Top Model is, or then knowing whether a certain multi-million dollar a year athlete will be able to cope with and enjoy playing this coming year knowing he's not signed yet the following year. I may have already mentioned it once in SNOT, but mediocre Baseball cowboy Kevin Millar once said (when asked about not being signed to multiyear contracts) something to the extent of, and I paraphrase "hell, I'm privelaged to be able to play, and after my first year in the Majors I had enough money in the bank to set up my family and my brother's family for the rest of their lives". Have we come this far below the threshold of reporting, and therebye, caring about, what really is going on and what really matters in this world that the whereabouts of a contract extension, or, for that matter, Britney's pussy covering gets more coverage then the wherabouts of a place to live, or, for that matter, Osama Bin Laden? When I was young, people used to talk about my generation as being jaded and cynical as though that was a bad thing, well it is the only thing now, and can you blame that when the only thing that floats is bullshit? Who's to blame? Well, truth be told, the media does spread this shit like peanut butter, but it's Mr. Shit himself that has to take the fall. Who's Mr. Shit? Well. there are many Mr. Shits out there, and they're running the shit show (Bush, Trump, Steinbrenner, Ovitz, blah blah blah, you know who you are, keep hiding). It'll take one of 'em who rise above the rest of the splatter and say enough is enough, for there will not now, or ever be a revolution, let alone a change of course, without the help from the rich, that we know, b/c, well, for one thing, the poor are just plain too fucking busy working their asses off just trying to stay alive. But one rich turdlet like Britney dropping like a fly doesn't fly, that only breeds sympathy, and hasbeens like Jane Fonda and Sally Field announcing that they've renounced plastic surgery at age 70 (to show that aging aint bad) just doen't cut it. History shows us that a member of the wealthy class has to gather up the humbled masses first. Who's that gonna be, not Britney, that's for sure. Gisele? Derek Jeter? Not likely them either, so why should we pay so much attention to all these folks other for then b/c of their lone skills, and by paying attention to them, I also mean pay them outrageous amounts of cash, that they just hoarde (yes, that's all they do with it, a sprinkle here and there for a charity now and then like seasoning on a steak in the heart, but really, they just use it to make more for themselves, b/c one house and car just aint enough, now is it?). That's the question of the day I want answered in the papers, or on the boob tube reality shows, etc. Fuck, I'd audition for that show: "Who wants to lead a million out of poverty and suffering?"... but no, Britney is suffering, so we put all our bills and debts and uninsured health and miseries on hold for another pathetic miniseries about a bimbos fall from grace. Didn't we learn anything with Marilyn Monroe? They say that history repeats itself too, but I'm afraid that's all they mean these days by that.... Anyway, I do have a sense of humor too (it's going by way of my diminished sense of pride), and while I cannot care about Britney's plight, I can stare (and chuckle) at her Kojak impersonations above n' below with the rest of 'em... Enjoy.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Good Fanta Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

So, I've had the flu for the past few days, and my synapses are even farther apart than usual, making it hard to think, let alone write an original thought. I'm indebted to keeping up this here blog a magog thing though (not that anyone is reading it, I snicker once again), so here's a little funny filler to keep you warm on this Godforsaken chilly winter night, namely, a scene from Bad Santa (yeah, 2 months and a couple of years to late, I know, but courtesy of my dear old gruff but lovable friend Peeper... good to see you again the other night man):


"Gin: Look here, get him outta here and I'll go smooth things over with Chipeska, Tell him it was food poisoning or something.
Marcus: What do you mean, get him outta here?
Gin: Take him to the car.
Marcus: In case you didn't notice I'm a motherfucking dwarf, so unless you got a forklift handy, maybe you should lend a hand hmm?
Gin: That figures. You want all kind of set-asides. Special treatment 'cause your handicapped. You're all the same.
Marcus: Special treatment? I'm 3-foot-fucking-tall you asshole! It's a matter of physics. Draw me a sketch of how I get him to the car, huh?
Gin: Bitch, Bitch, Bitch!
Marcus: Sketch it up, you fucking moron. Fucking Leonardo da Vinci.
Gin: What'd you call me thigh-high?
Marcus: I called you a fucking guinea homo from the 15th-fucking-century, you dickhead!
Gin: I could stick you up my ass, small fry.
Marcus: Yeah? You sure it ain't too sore from last night?
Gin: You got some lip on you midget.
Marcus: yeah? Well these lips were on your wife's pussy last night. Why don't you dust that thing off once in a while? Asshole"


And now I lay me down to sleep, thinking 'bout landing that pilot I auditioned for the other day (you know the one, the sweet-ass job that'll get me out of this dead-endless downward drinking n' thinking spiral), and hoping to revisit that exciting dream I had last night, where I was a Mexican outlaw on the lam from Underworld types, escaping one near death scenario by harnessing a wild boar like a sandscaped water ski, and finding myself in yet another while romancing a couple of exotic chiquitas at a rural wedding I happened upon... Make any sense? Sadly, no, 'twas a dream, but a pretty visual and visceral one at that... Oh yeah, Happy Valentine's Day to y'all. Apparently, the average American with a loved one/partner/signif other/girlfriend/boyfriend/lover/fuckbuddy/crush or whatever you macallit spends $100 on this Holiday. If that's the way it is, that's the way it iiiiiiissss. I'm not saying that solo is the payolo either, but I'll take the part over the heart on this day, this year...

Saturday, February 10, 2007

daily spews: "swipe"

Spews continues with its look at the City's shoddy Subway system...

Friday, February 09, 2007

David Wrong

So, duh Post (who else?) reported the other day how NY Met's star David Wright visitted the White House recently to shoot the shit about baseball and Iraq and stuff with moron in chief George Dubyah-ew! Bush. Now we all know that baseball players (and atheletes in general) are not supposed to be the sharpest tools in the shed, I mean we don't pay them outrageous amounts of cag for their wit and intelligence, now do we? Of course, there are quotable exceptions to the rule, like Bill "Spaceman" Lee, Pedro Martinez, Joe Torre, Johnny Mac, George Forman, The Greatest, Kareem Abdul Jabbar (and I'm sure some football and hockey players I can't think of now) to name a few, who've marveled us with their skills on the court, field and btw the ropes, and then some, but most of the time it's as it should be: "shut up and play, ok?". As far as David Wright is concerned, I like this guy, I mean how can you not? I may be biased b/c I met him in person (at his Hard Rock Cafe David Wright foundation fundraiser), but let's face it, he plays the game right. He's got an abundance of skill, an award winning goofy smile, a penchant for charity, and a sort of lovable dumbness about him, ala a do-gooder Manny Ramirez (without the attitude, corn rows and mental lapses). I could easily call him out on his choice of having vacant headed and bland voiced Nick Lachey sing at his fundraiser, but that's not enough to sour me on this guy....

This may be, however, and now puts David Wright in the category of those celebs to watch out for (but not for good reasons, b/c he may seriously screw things up for himself in the future if he keeps acting so publically dumb. Mark my words, I hope we don't have to whatch his head grow either, but keep tabs on it, cuz it may get real big and full of itself (not smarts). How sweet it woulda been if Mr. Wright had told Bush that he was wrong, and then, clubbed him with a baseball bat to prove a point. But no, David kissed Goliath's pimply ass, saying he had "goose bumps all night" while dining with El Presidumbo. Listen to his words: "sitting accross from the president, the leader of the free world, it was a once in a lifetime experience"... ok cliche buy, gotcha, and since when has this world been free? The coolest thing out of Wright's mouth was when he said "the president definitely knows his baseball", but only b/c it suggests that the presidunce definitely does not know his politics. He went on to say that "knowing how busy the president is, for him to spend that much time with us was really something special"... yawn. Hey, haven't you read the papers David, this president has taken more vacations then any other president, ever, and he obviously is trying to avoid work at all costs. You may have been living a dream in going there my boy, but the White House has been like a freakin' fantasy camp already for the manchild who lives there these past 6 years, and trust me, I'm sure these days our fearful leader would rather be out shagging fly balls and hitting the batting cage then sitting in the world cage he's in. You shoud've just given him a signed batting helmet and left it at that, cuz he's gonna need one the next 2 years just to shield himself from all the 90 mile an hr. hardball criticism that's rightly gonna be thrown at him. Hell, you could probably do as good a job (if not better) then your hero, so from now on, why don't you do the Wright thing, David, and keep it on the field, ok?

Thursday, February 08, 2007

fashion weak

So, I'd be remiss if I didn't blog something about the first ever fashion week held in NYC (ultra "yeah, right!!!"), now wouldn't I? Fashion Weak, held 4 weeks a month 12 months a year, represents a gathering and celebration of rich gay people and the clothes they where. The industry hopes that if there's enough hype around certain designers with Italian French hybrid names, that the price of blue jeans and dresses eventually to be made by slaves in impoverished nations can rise above the average monthly income of a so-called middle class family. The absurdity of this event is best encapsulated in a statement made by emerging designer Monica Moss (ok, she's not French or Italian in name, but she does, according to her press kit, radiate "beauty, originality and joyfullness"). Here goes: "fashion is a photograph of the soul"... truer words have not been spoken, my friends, I mean, how fucking profound can a mannequin get? Thank God her family "quickly recognized her talent" at an early age. Moss then showed "a strong conviction and determination to become a notable fashion designer"... this chick had a plan, man...

Now, it's unfair for Snot to just pick on her, as she is a Bolivian fox, if nothing else. It was her "philosophy" (that ignorant quote you just read) that led me to "feature" her, if you will. Fashion Weak is way more than the some of one individual's stupidity. I went to a few of these events, and it's all a crock. Don't get me wrong, as these were and are very important events, made evident by the intimidating, complex security measures enforced that keep the riff-raff (read: fashion challenged, not in-the-know, un-high cheek boned, smart and straight) elements out. I couldn't get into many of these damn things, for you know, who am I to view amazon imbeciles prancing in formation wearing threads that I'll never see on the rack, huh? I did get into some of the she-she afterparties though, and managed to partake a plenty of the free alcohol-a necessity when you don't even get a 2nd look from the higher than thou lower than I.Q. girls around you (and I'm not exactly chopped liver). Hey, I've actually even done the runway thang myself, it's like "voila, 20 seconds and over, people clap b/c you're fucking wearing some clothes... whoop de doo", but Fashion Weak makes me want to run away, period. You may pine for some of these beauts when you see em' in the magazine spreads, but when they're standing next to you like mutant gazelles on acid, they have diminished appeal, and that's the truth. That's why it's so hard to get into Fashion Weak, b/c they don't want you to know that. Now, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't kick a model out of bed for eating crackers (which they won't, b/c they don't eat), but what is the big deal here?

Sigh... it is a big deal though, and we shop like we breathe in this country, ready to knock over the next guy as if a new item of clothing was a last gasp of oxygen. This apparently makes it important that we celebrate this industry all the many weeks during the year that we hold "Fashion Weak". Aside from the occasional gift bag, free drink and opportunity to see gay males make utter fools of themselves at parties, I think this repetitive occurance is pretty lame... I may change my mind though if a sweet-ass armani suit fell in my lap after it (said lap) had been danced upon by Kate Moss (or Monica Moss). I may even honor Fashion Weak as Fashion Week should the both of them then follow my Armani-clad ass back to my humble Lower East Side abode and spread their magazines with me... more than once. a related story, the NY Post said today that a majority of women surveyed would "give up sex for 15 months if they could get a new wardrobe in return"... now does this illustrate the difference in the 2 (there are 2, right?) sexes, or what?!? Imagine asking guys the same thing, I think all of 'em, straight or gay or hybrid would say a profound "too hell with that"...

... in yet another related story, The Post (again) stated that a recent study suggests that "sweaty guys get the girls"... not at fashion week yo. And not at any of the places I've been to in NYC where girls are supposedly there for the getting. True, when I haven't washed my hair for a few days chix comment on it, but that's hair sweat, or grease, not b.o. brother. Smelling like an old gym sock doesn't get you anything but the people sitting on the subway near you to move away.

That's it.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

daily spews

here's something you'll be seeing more of here @ snot. This first example is one I did with my pal KD 2 years ago. The Spews may shape-shift into different forms along the way, and surely won't appear daily... enjoy.

Saturday, February 03, 2007

kitty litter? ... rock n' roll hoochie koo

Ok, so if you're just joining snot (and lets' face it, the only people tuning in here are those just joined, as I basically let everyone else fly after 13 inactive months), you'll probably think that I'm a whiner, a ranter, bitter, etc. Well, you're right (and fuck Dennis Miller).

So, now that we've gotten that cleared up, here's a short blurb (or catcall) b4 I head out on the town (it's freaking fashion week... again, and again): any of you see that lil' news item in Da Post (my fave shit rag to find crap in), titled "Cat-astrophe"? Thank you Post-ops for printing it, nice to know there's a heart beating behind your fascistic skin, and not only the snap of a wanker yanking his lil' prick. Basically, for those who didn't see the article, it reported that a bunch of homeless people had their pet cats ripped from their hands recently while they were squatting in a shelter, b/c "city rules" says that for some reason or other pets aren't allowed on shelter premises (or for folks who can't afford 'em now I guess?). Fifteen or so felines were abducted by enforcement at the Hells Kitchen hotel, and most likely taken to their deaths, or a neighborhood chicken restaurant. "It's like losing family" said one homeless resident. Damn... I can imagine. If my mothers 2 lil' dogs or cats were taken from her she'd be devastated beyond belief...

Now, I'm sorry, but what does this lil' story here tell you? I'll tell you what, and I'm no conspiracy theorist (who has time to actually theorize these days? I mean I can barely count to 2 anymore), but it categorically says that the bloody apocolypse is coming, that's what, I mean don't it?!?! This is the catastasis; Felix the cat now, Felix the human tomorrow. Have we become Gestapo, bustin' into peoples environments (wherever they may be, cathouse, catacomb, cathedral, whatever) and taking family members we deem inappropriate? We tap your phones, now let's snap (up) your pets? Hey, I don't give a cat's ass whether this was at a city-owned shelter or not, it's still the peoples' city isn't it? It's still the peoples' country isn't it? Isn't it? Riddle me that Cat Man, cuz we're in a bad way, whether you choose to close each cat's-eye to that fact or not. The lord of my expensive slum tries to evict its tenants when we're 2 weeks late with rent, gives you 7 days to pay or move out... that's potentially catastrophic, no? If that approach were rampid? Where's the litter to soak up the pain, yo? Let's start showing a little more humanity again in this country, shall we, I mean how much can it hurt us (to care)? Are we worried that that'll cost us too much of our precious money? Call me negative, and I say in return that the bad attitude toward our own lesser fortunate brothers and sisters that's permeating the world these days smacks me as being postively evil, the nadir of negativity. I know rules are rules, but they can be broken, just like pets. What were these "enforcers" worried about, an outbreak of cat scratch fever? Hell, I know someone who had that, and it sucked, but that's hardly the pandemic we should all be scratching each others eyes out over now is it? Love thy neighbor (gag if you want, but that concept is not what stinks these days)...

One last thing, totally off the subject: Even though I had "The Stranger" (or my brother did) when I was a kid, I've always been one to call Billy Joel "The Antichrist" since then, encountering much negativity from people who grew up listening to the guy (and who put him on a pedestal next to Dylan, Young, Springsteen, Reed, etc. , instead of the stinker I thought him to be). I mean, even when "Moving Out" came out on Broadway, this guy still held a place in peoples' hearts. Well, no longer (do I think him the Antichrist). Like Reed (who's been cleared just b/c he was Bowie, Iggy and Patty's friend, and hasn't seemed as publically pretentious the last few years), Joel has gotten a hall (not Rock Hall) pass from me, for the song "It's Still Rock n' Roll To Me". Prior to tonight, he, Phil Collins and John Cougar Mellonhead were duking it our for putz of that decade. Now, the resurrected diddy I mentioned is no "Rock n' Roll" (Reed's opus, or homage or something), but the sentiment is there, I agree with it, and the tune plain moves. I heard it tonight @ Motor City, and it's place in the '80's catalogue made sense again. Plus, it warmed me once again to the drunk who wrote it (another trait I now appreciate Billy for... btw, I hear that Joel keeps a grand piano @ the halfway house he frequents when not crashing cars from downing too many bottles of red and bottles of white). Again, before this eve I acknowledged the Piano Man only for spawning that cute, short keys playin' chick of a daughter he has with Christie "Sports Illustrated Uptown Vacation Girl Swimsuit Model" Brinkley. Strange how you can all of a sudden be corrected one day (as I've been) after experiencing an elongated disgust w/ someone... Now, as for that girl recently who was trying to sell me on Rudy Guliani, fuck that shit. Maybe "hiz boner" cleaned up the streets in NYC and rose tall when the towers fell, but that guy is a creep. I saw him in person once, @ a Matzah Ball eating contest no less, and was struck by his huge noggen (thankfully, not physically), but if he becomes president, we all better whatch our cats an' more, cuz our civil liberties are doomed.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

and now... some more succinct celebrity reviews

Harry Connick, Jr. - if Andy "Mayberry" Griffith and Mark "Big Mac" Macgwire had a baby. Nice, uh, extremely muscle bound guy, heluva voice for real
Mathew McConaghy - this guy's got a humongous head, a prerequisite for successful actors apparently (what about Gary Sinise then?), though successful obviously doesn't necessarily mean talented in this case. Dude is super slick though, I'll give him that
James Franco - a rather "petite tete" in comparison (gives Gary a run for his money)
Gary Sinese - despite the stuff I just said about his head size, this guy is the coolest, and wise
Sam Shepherd - really looks like you can light a match off his face
Drew Barrymore - wanted to hate her, esp. as I'm not a fan of her on film, but she's just so damn sweet n' uber cool
Ethan Hawke - liking him more and more since he's gotten so freakishly ugly
Uma Thurman - liking her less and less since she's gotten so snobbishly bitchy
Bill Paxton - one heluva guy
Billy Bob Thornton - about as cool as he comes off onscreen (sorry, boring I know, but...)
Brad Pitt - this guy and I could hang out. After he and I stopped talking to each other, people came up to me and spoke to me as if I was him
Elijah Wood - intense hobbit (I honestly think he is one!)
Vin Diesel - overly friendly, nice buff, bald village person (I'm not sayin')
Jessica Lang - her eyes are lookin' more and more Asian I'm afraid (stay away from the surgery my dear, you're an icon)
Joan Allen - a bit meaner and way taller then I remembered her
Natalie Portman - an adorably elphan rich socialite brat
Renee Zellweger - way hotter in person (an' she told me I wasn't so bad myself... we'll meet again I hope)
Campbell Scott - absafuckinglutely like he appears onscreen; kinda smug, ultra chill, laid back bachelor uncle who's prematurely grey
Clive Owen - what can I say? I wanna be this guy
Willem Dafoe - a living primate, which contradicts how cavemen are depicted in those commercials these days
Jay Z - kinda comes off all like "aw shucks" in person, like Dwayne on What's Happening, but cooler
Matt Damon - super nice guy, but he works it, fakin' that smile til th'aint nobody left in the room
Leonardo DeCaprio - now you see him, now you don't
Samuel Jackson - wears dumb hats in public, almost something Bill Cosby-esque about this cool motherfucker
Michael Keaton - can you please stop doing Michael Keaton all the time?
Sammy Sosa - nice guy w/ chip on his shoulder, and I honestly don't care whether he did 'roids or not. Screw Big Mac, to hell with Barry, but I like Sammy, and you know you do too
Johnny Rotten - genuinely rotten to the core, I love this man
Mary Kate an' Ashley Olson - flyin' monkees (excuse me if I already used this one in a past SCR, just so fun to say)
Lyndsay Lohan - that chick from the smoking room in high school who's still sexy even though everybody's already fucked her. Dirty, but I'd let her (same excuse-pardon me if already said this one in a previous SCR)
Ally Sheedy - looks like a stressed-out, chain smokin' stick figure
Bruce Willis - the kind of guy who whoops and hollers during movie premieres (I know, cuz I sat right next to him). More power to him... wait, is he a 'Publican?
Cedric The Entertainer - pretty damn entertaining, I had no idea (though he looks exactly like a fat Martin Lawrence, I won't hold that against him)
Scarlet Johanson - will you marry me?
Tommy Lee Jones - scared the shit outa me in person
January Jones - I'd let her any month of the year... if only (sigh... I knew she'd make it Dan)
Constantine Whats-your-name-opolis (from American Idol) - your 15 minutes are way over Bon Jersey
Dan Hedaya - middle aged hipster, fuckin' love this guy
Mark Wahlberg - absofuckinglutely regular guy, just don't get into any of his entourages wassabi eatin' contests
Adrien Grenier - super friendly, albeit kinda dull, guy. Woulda been a teen idol for sure in the 70s
George Clooney - I wanna be this guy too... I mean, who doesn't?
Juliette Binoche - kinda lost a beat due to age, but I'd still do Frenchy, I mean just thinkin' about her in Damage, and Blue (or was it Red? or White?)
Sharon Leal - girl, you're dreamily smokin'
Clint Eastwood - wholy shit, what do I say to Clint fuckin' Eastwood?!
Jack Nicholson - "I remember you!" "she was 15 goin' on 35"... legendary cool
Vera Farmiga - meow
Ewan McGregor - nifty duds this bloke wears, stand-up chap
Annabella Scoria - drop-dead gorgeous (I asked her out but was rebuffed). Cannot believe she's pushing 50
John Voight - reminds me of my dad, genuine
Penny Marshall - Laverne lives on Shirl
Ron Howard - Richie, Opie... shucks you're a nice guy, seriously. Don't know why I thought Ralph Malph was cooler than you man, what's he directed lately?
Sting - holy shit, I was expecting an ass hole and I got... joe friendly. Thanks, you made me feel like all that high school idol worship did not go to waste
Martin Scorcese - you rock sir, keep on talkin'
Kate Winslet - you're a lucky man, Sam
Ralph Machio - still looks like he's 17, and probably bummin' about that
Luke Wilson
- beer bud. Boy, we could score multitudes of chicks together dude (like he needs my help)
Billy Crudup -for someone who reads so well onscreen, this guy is one short (and blocky) dude. I thought film was supposed to put on weight?
Vaclev Havel - I cannot believe I met this Vaclev Havel
Robert Deniro - looked like he thought I was gonna bite him or somethin' when I introduced myself, kind of reacted "are you talkin' to me?" style w/out sayin' it (wouldn't that be cool if he said that?)
Parker Posie - so, uh... how about that drink? (no more smart alek responses my dear, I can't think on my feet as fast as you)
Stevie Wonder - it's fucking Stevie fucking Wonder!

That's it for now. I'll have loads more of these for ya in the future...