Golden MySpace Classics... Texas' Citadel of Stupidity's Greatest Hits, Vol. 13

Original post date: May 26, 2007 - Saturday

Life? Don't talk to me about life.

The front door to his house swung open and the sullen man strode inside. The visage instantly familiar to most of us... this, however, was not the man we knew. This was not the dignified, even striking, iconic figure... proud to be the very embodiment of the sacred southern stereotype. This was a being defeated... distant and forlorn. He didn't even break stride as he entered his home, wheeling the door shut behind him carelessly with his left hand, the same hand in which was crumpled his previously pressed white coat, which he then simply let fall to the floor. Simultaneously, with a single finger of his right hand, manipulated in a manner something akin to a fish hook, he tugged uncomfortably at his signature string tie. With a gloomy gait and a face that strongly radiated pain despite a complete lack of expression, the gentleman made his way to the liquor cabinet. He grabbed a lowball glass, one very obviously crafted of fine crystal, and dropped a couple of ice cubes in... the procurement of ice being more gesture than genuine. No need to chew up precious volume needlessly with ice. He filled the glass, just a hair short of the rim, with his preferred brand of Kentucky bourbon and made his way to his favorite chair. He took his seat, slowly and deliberately. Despite the extraordinary comfort of his setting, the venerable old man was at disease. And as the broken soul raised the glass to his lips, eager for the first sweet sip of the only thing that brought him comfort anymore, Colonel Sanders muttered to himself, "God damn, fried chicken".

DEAR GOD... I CAN STILL SEE IT WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES!!!

Don't ask how this got started... we were having a bit of a debate at the office yesterday as to which of these "music videos" is the most horrendous...

In what must be nothing short of sensory overload of joy of near orgasmic proportion for the discriminating nerd, Spock singing a song about hobbits and elves and gnomes... I think there's a line or two about The Hamburglar in there as well


And an attempt at a pop song by nine-time Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis... a performance that makes his rendition of the national anthem at Madison Square Garden look like Placido Domingo performing the aria "Nessun Dorma"


THE HORROR! THE HORROR! So, which of these ballads is the greater sucker of ass? Well, from my particular perspective, as a fellow University of Houston alumnus, I find that Carl Lewis' effort transcends mere stupefying dreadfulness and actually fills me with a feeling of personal embarrassment at having that small measure of association with him.

I gotta break 'cause my mother said be home by dizzark

As the witches said, "Fair is foul and foul is fair." Well, some four hundred years after Shakespeare penned Macbeth, bad is now good and good... well, I guess good is still pretty much good. Anyway...

If one is to take the word in its literal sense, grant the term its intended import, I submit to you that there has never been a more aptly-named contrived musical act than the 1990's pre-pubescent R&B sextet Another Bad Creation.

We'll see ya at the playground kids, which, ironically enough, is where Michael Bivins is living these days, I believe.

And so it begins...

"Alright... reverse gears!" A reference to one of my favorite moments from Bill Cosby's concert film Himself... a bit where he's ruminating about the human constitution's reaction to over-imbibing.

"Alright... reverse gears!" Also, a line I find wholly appropriate in describing the annual philosophical change in the collective American mindset that takes place every December 26th. Ah, the duplicity of the holiday season... the masks of comedy and tragedy as apt for this time of year as they are the theatre.

In a matter of 24 hours, the sweetness and serenity, peace and piety derived from the celebration of the birth of The Savior of Christendom gives way to deranged, drunken debauchery, washed away in a cascade of champagne and myriad other intoxicants, with lechery left to reign in the wave's wake.

And every year, it serves to make me sad. So, at this time of year, you can pop the cork on that bottle of Brut and grope the gal you just met 45 minutes ago, but I'll take the Baby Jesus over baby new year, thank you very much.

Ted's top five PE tracks featuring Flavor Flav on lead vocals

1. Can't Do Nuttin' for Ya Man
2. Cold Lampin' With Flavor
3. Too Much Posse
4. Megablast
5. 911 Is a Joke

A Civil Servant Sort-Of Look-Alike

The new mayor-elect of Houston, Annise Parker...

and the mayor of TV's South Park

I wonder...

Now that Houston has become the largest U. S. city to elect an openly gay mayor, will all those big concert tours that always book Austin and Dallas, but routinely bypass our fair city, now start scheduling dates here?

I wonder...

In these oh so trying times...

I think it would behoove us to look to the wisdom found in these words of Reverend Run: "'cause Calvin Klein is no friend of mine... Don't want nobody's name on my behind."

Just think about that for a moment... think about it.

UGH!

Watching the Texans-Jags game... and thanks to the those profoundly stupid Levis ads, the sickeningly spirited iPod spots, the Southwest Airlines "Bags Fly Free" rap and the just plain irritating Amazon Kindle jingle, my advertisement annoyance factor (otherwise known as AAF) for the day is waaaaaaay off the chart.

I may have to hurt someone soon.

Greetings from "snowy" Houston, TX!