Thoughtless for the Day

I'm too drunk to write anything...enjoy...

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 11:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Eleven and of my colleagues at the City Paper and I have submitted our picks for the best books of 2006, along with matching mini-reviews. Go forth and read. Fly my little monkeys; fly!

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 06:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

But first...

America's last real Republican president, Gerald Ford, is dead. RATYHTL paid tribute to the great man back in '04.

Part of the grieving process is moving on. So, moving right along...

To help deal with my grief over the loss of the Dysfunctional Family Circus (see a few actual submissions from your friend and humble narrator click here, here, and here) a few years back, I began entering caption contests. For the most part, this was with the goal in mind of having my captions rejected, as they tended to be of a scatological nature.

Now, as you may or may not know, I subscribe to an excellent publication by the name of the Biblical Archaeology Review (I strongly recommend that the 50% of America which reads at or above an eight grade level subscribe to BAR) and each month BAR runs a caption contest featuring a Biblically themed cartoon. Lost month was the first time I ever entered BAR's contest, but I was certain I'd win. Here's the cartoon with my submitted caption helpfully appended as to facilitate the full comedic effect:

Granted, it's no "Poop holds the tent wher it is", but I think that you'll agree that it's miles ahead of the winner which was... well, click here because you wouldn't believe me if I told you. You'll also notice that I didn't even land an "honorable mention". At first I was pissed off at my work being passed over in favor of the least funny caption since Neanderthals smeared their feces below the cave drawings of Cro-Magnon man (Stop. I take that back. Nothing is less funny than "The unicorns say they're not coming"), but then it dawned on me that, since I'm incapable of writing the sort of bromidic captions that the editors at BAR seem to favor; I'm now free to submit any goddamn caption I please!

OK, here's this month's cartoon:

And here are some caption ideas I've been kicking around:

"But Mel Gibson says all Jews have horns."

"What the fuck are you staring at, sugartits?"

"We're in a hurry; we have to kill Christ at three o'clock"

"If you don't mind, we'd rather be paid with the blood of gentile babies"

" The unicorns say they're coming... in your mouth."

You can either use the comments section to submit your own "craption" or go directly to the BAR Caption Contest. If you go to the BAR website, please don't submit anything too rude (or too funny, if you have your heart set on winning).

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 07:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

This year, Steve finally decided we could no longer ignore the financial woes associated with the fact that we both stink at handling money.

It's a Christmas miracle! Blair's December E-letter is here and ... Wait. What's that I hear you all crying out as if with one voice (or, more likely, do I have one reader)? Could it be: "Hey, what the fuck happened Blair's November E-letter? Are you holding out on us?" Well, the truth is that Blair's November E-letter was kind of... um... indecipherable. Seriously, I've spent weeks trying to edit the fuckin' thing into something even remotely readable. Here's a sample of my efforts:

I like November now. Here's why. [Did Blair hire an eight-year-old to ghostwrite her piece of shit E-letter? If so, where can I hire one to ghostwrite my piece of shit blog?] It has a big holiday in it, without all the stress [As opposed to all that stress normally associated with Arbor Day] . It involves one great feast, rather than a million parties[Ah, yes! The Feast of Cthulhu!]. The giving of thanks doesn't require a credit card [To thank redheads, press one, to thank Black girls, press two, to thank chunky, bottle-blonde ex-child actresses press three. All major credit cards accepted.]. Family sits around and talks rather than playing with new gadgets and toys [Blair's not talking about vibrators, is she?]. Pumpkin Pie trumps fruitcake. [It's official: Just as "Rock" crushes "Scissors" and Trannie Maylay hooker beats Neil Bush with a stiletto heel, pumpkin pie trumps fruitcake.]

And that's just a small taste of the horror. The damn thing goes on for twenty pages. Fortunately, Blair's December E-Letter is not only relatively brief it's also rather entertaining in he sense that it's completely batshit crazy; that's why I'm issuing the following disclaimer: RATYHTL is not responsible should any of you decide to gouge your eyes out midway through the first paragraph.

No need to check your stockings, kids; here comes you big ol' lump o' coal.

Cauble Family 2006 Christmas Letter [OK, just who the fuck are the "Cauble Family"? Yeah, I know it's probably Steve's last name, but can any of you ever remember Blair mentioning her married name? We're starting on unfamiliar ground here and that doesn't bode well for what's about to follow.]

Dear friends

Is it just me? [Oh Christ, I hope it's just Blair. Please, please don't let it spread to the other villagers.] Am I simply incredibly small and insecure, or do you sometimes want to throw up after reading certain family Christmas letters too? [This has to be a literary first. How many other family Christmas E-letter feature the matriarch getting ready to blow chunks in the second sentence? "Sorry 'bout hurling all over your drapes and shit, Uncle Bob, but that always happens when I hear about some cheesy little bastard making the Honor Roll. Hey, how 'bout some eggnog so that I can get this taste outta my mouth?"] I mean, isn't this the time of year when we are supposed to be sending good tidings of great joy? [if you say so. I'm an Atheist; for me, this time of year is about think about the same thing I think about the rest of the year: pussy.] After reading a litany of child prodigy [Admit it; you first read that as "child pornography"] feats and perfect family success stories, I often feel like pond scum. [Shit Luther, I was in a punk rock band for something like fifty years and I never mentioned vomit and pond scum in the same paragraph] Oh, and by the way, "Merry Christmas." [One can't help but wonder, especially considering what is about to follow, if Blair backspaced over "and fuck the baby Jesus with a pound of frankincense"]

Perhaps it is a knee-jerk reaction[Well, Restless Leg Syndrome is one of the side effects of being nuttier than Chinese chicken salad.], but I decided to write this year's family Christmas letter from slightly below the surface of the pond.

Although my whole family is onboard with this idea[and tied up in the basement], it is probably only fair that I begin with me and my "accomplishments" in 2006. [Cringe Alert!]

For starters, I gained ten more pounds this year and went up two pant sizes [Eminent Physicist Roger "Puddin' Pants" Penrose has theorized that, expanding at her current rate, Blair would "reach terminal mass and implode" on May 21, 2009. When Stephen Hawkins questioned Penrose's findings, Roger fired back with "Oh yeah? Well, you wouldn't be in that wheelchair if you weren't such a total AIDS fag." The debate was only settled after Hawkins transformed himself into a bat and infected Penrose with the AIDS virus.]. The bathroom scales hadn't seen those high digits since my third trimesters. [And in a completely unrelated story: Haven's 4-H project, a fifty-pound goat named "Kevin", has gone missing] The publishing company I'm currently signed with sold to a publisher that turned me down two years ago and they still don't want me. My last book [ironically about how Blair would've killed Nicole Simpson, if she had done it] way undersold projections and is probably available at your local bookstore on the clearance table.

This year, Steve finally decided we could no longer ignore the financial woes associated with the fact that we both stink at handling money. We got all of our back taxes cleared up, and we are ready to tackle the debt we got into when we couldn't get enough women to attend our MomTime Getaway events back in 2003. [I once tried to pay Kathy McCarty to attend a MomTime event and she wouldn't go for it: and I once saw her strangle a hobo with her bare hands.] This living on a budget is for the birds. [The big, fat, scale-tipping birds]

Tucker fell in love for the first time and, subsequently, experienced his first broken heart. [... and torn rectum] After six months, he is still recovering from the break-up. On a happier note, he finally completed his geometry curriculum. It took him a year-and-a-half, but I'm sure all those theorems will come in handy in the life of a musician. [OK. First; Tucker, if you're going be a musician, then you've got to learn that a broken heart shouldn't last six minutes, let alone six months. You didn't see me crying like a little bitch when, back in '89, when that woman...what was her name?...the redhead...the one that was in all those porn flicks? Anyway, you didn't see me bawling my eyes out when she left. No, I took my lumps - later diagnosed as genital herpes - and moved on. Grow a pair. Secondly; am I nuts or is Blair basically telling Tucker "no need to concentrate on all that fancy book learnin'"?]

Haven is no longer part of the student ministry worship team at church. [Turns out she was possessed by demons. Who know?] She was replaced this year by a drummer with fancier fills. ["Fancier fills" is the polite version of "big tits"] She received a "D" on her first English Lit essay, complete with notes from the teacher like, "Don't use such lame sources" and "Did you even read the book?" [but I'm sure all that literary criticism will come in handy in the life of a truckstop whore]

We are thrilled to report that after three years, Clancy finally made a friend here in Texas. [He's a forty-five-year-old man she met on the internet] She played "Juliet" in her homeschool academy's school play last year, only to earn a bit part in this year's production. [... of Equus. Get it? "Bit part"? Equus? Eh, fuck you.] After playing the bass guitar for three years in the junior high worship band, she's a bit bummed about the fact that she's not yet good enough to play on the high school worship team. ["Jesus finds your choice of picks to be unacceptable, you wanton Jezebel]

Donut, our family dog, no longer has the run of the house. She has been relegated to a pen in the kitchen with a doggie door to the backyard. [Sadly, she has to share that that pen with Clancy] After failing two obedience schools, we resigned ourselves to the fact that she just wasn't going to get this whole house-training thing down. [but I'm sure all that house-training will come in handy in the life of a butt-sniffing, toilet-drinking mongrel. And I don't think the dog would've benefited either. Badda bing!] As soon as we get this whole budget-training thing down, we'll replace all the carpet in the house. [... with deli meat]

Now, don't you feel better? [Um...No, not really. In fact, this was pretty much the E-letter version of Visitor Q] Merry [fuckin'] Christmas! In my opinion, this letter more accurately reflects the spirit of Christmas. No, stay with me here a minute, I'm serious. [And I would've loved to stay with Blair, but she goes off on a tangent about how Jesus loves us and a bunch of other sparkling from the center of the ass bullshit, thus totally missing the point of her own E-letter. Blair, like millions of other Americans, is teetering on the verge of poverty and she, like millions of other Americans, is scared. Maybe she, like millions of other Americans, should've voted for politicians who promised a living wage and universal health care instead of laws preventing them thar Gays from marrying - "I promise you nothing and a tax cut for the wealthy". It's just a thought to keep you warm this Christmas.]

Christmas blessings,

Steve, Lisa, Tucker, Haven, Clancy, Donut, and Rodney

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 04:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Aid or Invade number XII has been posted and... Number XII? Has it really been a year since the AoI debuted? No. No, it hasn't. There were two AoI's published back in April. Don't forget to play "Spot the Jews" (just remember that not all Jews have spots: some have stripes and horns) and submit your answer in the comments section below (Hint: It's not Ring Lardner Jr.).

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 11:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

From the Letters to the Editor section of on-line version of the City Paper

I am writing to express my shock and disappointment at the offensive review posted by your critic Rodney Anonymous ["Music, "Aid or Invade," Nov. 23, 2006]. I am not upset about the negative review of the album, but at the truly offensive Jewish stereotyping that takes place in the column. It is really unacceptable for these types of bigoted comments, even if they are intended as satire, to be published in a paper such as yours. I thought I was reading some neo-Nazi Internet hate site, until I saw that the City Paper had actually allowed something like this to go out under their name. I think it deserves a retraction and apology to the Jewish community, who I am sure read your paper regularly and deserve more respect.

Hey, did that guy just stereotype all Jews as City Paper readers? Now, you're probably expecting me to mock the living matzoth out of this gentleman, aren't you? Well, I'd love to because it would make for a really funny piece; unfortunately the he's on to something. No, not about me being some sort of bigot - that's a farm-fresh shipment of Darryl Worley taste-tested bullshit. You see, what he's saying is completely wrong, but why he's saying it is spot-on. Let me put it this way: if I were a Jew, I'd see anti-Semitism everywhere, but that's only because it is everywhere. Shit Luther, there are enough turd gourmets out there who actually believe that the Holocaust never happened (apparently tattooing numbers on your forearm must've just been a big fad among Jews in the 30's and 40's) that they were actually able to hold a convention (is anybody else picture a Holiday Inn in Tehran with "Welcome Holocaust Deniers" on its sign?). OK, I want to make this perfectly clear: FUCK THESE HOLOCUAST-DENYING JEW-HATING BACKWOODS SHEEP-SUCKING MORONS! FUCK THEM IN THE STERMUM WITH A KING COBRA, FLIP 'EM OVER AND FUCK 'EM AGAIN

As for an apology to the Jewish community, well, let me just take a cue from the ending of The Warriors and play you a song:

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

If you haven't already, you really should take the kids to see Walt Disney's A History of Violence on Ice. I don't think I ruining the "big surprise" for anyone but the highlight of the show really is when accomplished actor and shockingly good figure skater William Hurt, as model Philadelphian Richie Cusack, does a triple-axle over the body of a fallen goon only to land and burst into the show stopping number How Do You Fuck That Up?

"How do you fuck that up?" is, of course, a question we Philadelphians have been asking for generations. Philly used to not only be the largest city in America, but it was also our nation's capitol. How do you fuck that up? Philadelphia was known as "the Athens of America". How do you fuck that up? Seriously, do you think that any other city in the world, given that sort of head start, could've stumbled off the track and into the bleachers?

This is why on those rare occasions when Philadelphia manages to grab the national spotlight in a positive way, we Philadelphians stop to reflect on the many possible that our city can fuck things up. Usually it's something small like dropping a large chunk of wood upon the heads of visiting dignitaries but occasionally we go beyond the pale and sell off a piece of our heritage.

In a case of art imitating life imitating art, Philadelphia has even managed to fuck up movies about Philadelphia. Philadelphia: Tom Hanks gets AIDS and dies. Witness: Guy gets murdered in the men's room at 30th Street Station. The Sixth Sense: Everybody dies, return as ghosts, get shot and die again.

And then there's the film that has done for Philly what Deliverance has done for the great(ly inbred) state of Georgia: Rocky.

Normally, I, as an old school "Athens of America" Philadelphian, I avoid thinking about the Rocky quadrillogy with the same gusto I invest into avoiding thinking that "This isn't a mystery of life!" scene in Visitor Q but, like a cultural version of the Great Influenza Outbreak of 1918, Rocky is back.

Just the other day, Philly held some sort of "Rocky Appreciation Day" down at the stadium I paid my taxes to build: This action being akin to Poland suddenly announcing an official festival of stepladders and light bulbs. From the love of Ormsby,

Regular RATYHTL readers as well as anyone who didn't feel the pressing need to pack an extra chromosome won't need to ask what my beef is with Rocky. But, on the slim change that some stumbled upon this site while Googling "Rocky Appreciation Day", I'll make this as clear as my admittedly poor writing skills will allow me.

At a time when other cities - in fact, entire states - are making a concerted effort to attract college graduates, Philadelphia has decided, by honoring the Italian Stallion, to hang out a shingle reading "Mouth-breathers wanted. Apply within". If you don't live here then you can only vaguely fathom the horror that is the fatty blobs of tourists who flock to Philly in search of cheese steaks, soft pretzels, a side-order of SHUT THE FUCK UP, and the Rocky statue.

Yes, there's an actual Rocky statue. In Rocky III (I think. I've only seen Rocky. And that was only long enough to be inspired to write "Taking Retards to the Zoo") there is a scene in which the city dedicates a statue to Rocky on the Art Museum steps (which makes no sense whatsoever. Think about it. When rocky jogged up those steps in the first movie it was like five-thirty in the morning. The only people who could've possibly seen him do it were hookers, junkies, muggers, and junky hooking muggers. Did they petition the city for the statue?) Anyway, after Rocky vs. Blacula wrapped up filming, Stallone decided to donate the statue to the city, so it could remain forever on the Art Museum. Apparently, the culturally-challenged offspring of Jackie Stallone considered the statue to be art. Nobody else did, so the statue was moved to South Philly where it holds the distinction of be the only statue in Philadelphia never to be gratified.

They don't call her "Tootie" for nothing.

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 07:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

What? How can the US government expect to feed all of those millions of starving Israelis with just 12% of our foreign aid budget?

Posted by Rodney Anonymous at 11:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)