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Chaos in Theory Volume 3

February 13, 2012

My last post was way too serious, and did not mock nearly enough people.  Let’s see if we can get this thing back where it belongs….

–  God Bless America.  Chris Brown takes Rihanna for a ride in his car two years ago.  After she gives him shit about some suspicious messages on his cell phone, he does this to her face:

Nice right?  Since then, he has not acknowledged the attack, though the facts are not in question.  Also within the next month or two, he was already “tired of hearing about this shit.”  And last night at the Grammys, where they not only allowed this piece of shit to perform, but also gave him an award, he got multiple standing ovations.  Multiple…standing…ovations.  I have just one question:  Would everyone be so willing to look past this incident if Rihanna were white?  ( Now that’s some “A Time To Kill” shit right there)…

–  I saw a commercial recently for a hair care product specifically designed for “people of color.”  People of color?  When did “black” become a derogatory term?  I have plenty of black friends.  And by “plenty”, I mean one.  And by “Friend”, I mean he works for me.  Anyway, he doesn’t mind at all being called a “black guy”.  (Of course, if I could remember his name, I would stop calling him that anyway)…

–  Dos Equis:  It is…the most beaten to death ad campaign in the world.  “I don’t always beat a dead horse, but when I do, I don’t stop till the fucking body looks like ground beef”…There hasn’t been a commercial series this played out since this ridiculousness….

–  I’ve never really understood the ‘mourning” of dead celebrities, I.E. Whitney Houston.  I had nothing against her.  Any damage she did, she did to herself, so what do I care?  And she was talented, no debating that.  But I didn’t know her.  And she never gave a shit about me, so why am I gonna get all weepy that she died young?  Understand this people:  Celebrities don’t give a shit about you.  Save your emotional outbreaks for the people who actually have some consequence in your life.  Yannow what Whitney Houston would have done if someone told her you died?  She’d shrug her shoulders, freebase some high-end heroin (Cause crack is “for the poor”), then pass out in a puddle of her own feces.  Save your tears.  Your world will be just fine without her…

–  Any of you familiar with “Goop”?  “Goop” is a weekly publication, curated by Gwyneth Paltrow.  Essentially, it lets you know exactly how you should be living, parenting, working, relaxing, exercising, dating, marrying, praying, eating, and shitting.  And if you are not abiding by these little life rules, then clearly you are a huge, unenlightened bag of shit.  They are filled with little nuggets for the “real” woman” like:

“You should wear clothes that move easily from a winter’s morning making pancakes to the school run to a meeting to homework to a dinner party. These are the basics I am wearing right now for easy, fuss-free dressing.”

Her idea of easy, fuss-free fashion for the average woman?  All told, an outfit she recommends that retails for about $2500.  Fun, right?  Could this woman be a bigger twat?  She told Esquire magazine in an interview that she is qualified to be giving life advice to “real” woman because   she herself started with nothing and worked for everything she has.  Umm, hey Gwinny, your mother is Blythe Donner, a famous actress.  Your father is Bruce Paltrow, a huge old-time Hollywood producer.  Steven Spielberg, who is your fucking Godfather, gave you your first acting role in his movie “Hook”.  Way to go, sweetheart, you’re a real rags to riches story…

Oh, and if you are a great big fatty, and if you aren’t following her workout program, then you probably are, you can join her gym in Tribeca.  Again, for the “real” woman.  Membership?  Only $4500 to join and about $600 a month.  At prices that low, can you afford not to join?  I hope she and Chris Martin break up, and her rebound guy is Chris Brown, and he often takes her for “rides” in a sports car in Las Vegas…

–  Every Monday night, my wife spends two hours watching “The Bachelor”, while I am on the other side fo the room on the computer.  The only conclusion I draw from that show?  Women are really fucking crazy.  And women are really, REALLY fucking catty…

–  My dog is five feet away from me, licking her own crotch.  This has been going on for the last seven minutes, non-stop.  I can’t help but watch her do it, but every time she sees me staring, I pretend I am looking at something just over her head.  It’s getting awkward…

–  I went with the wife and some friends to see Jim Florentine’s one man show “I’m your Savior”, a comedic look back at his life.  He took some questions at the end, and of course I was compelled to speak up.

“Hey Jim, what was it like to find out that your father was a womanizer and slept around on your mother?”

Florentine: “What are you talking about?  My parents were high school sweethearts and my father was a great and faithful husband through their whole marriage”…

Me: “Oh, uh sorry.  My bad.”

(Crickets)

What a douche I am.  I so badly , at that moment, wanted to turn around in the theater and find John Wilkes Booth pointing a pistol right at my fucking forehead…

–  My three-year old son asked me to be his Valentine.  I am equal parts flattered and concerned…

And a final quote, to wrap up the weekend: “No matter what they take from me, they can’t take away my apathy…”

Seacrest…Out!

One Comment
  1. I love everything about this post (except for the stupid Seacrest part)!

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