Some of these people are only famous for being famous. When I become famous, I want it to be the old-fashioned way: by being talented or by killing a whole bunch o’ folks.
At any rate, just knowing these people exist makes me want to seek them out and slap them until their faces bleed. From the eyeballs.
You people make me sick.
1. Spencer Pratt. I hate living in a world where this useless git is famous. I mean, what does he even do? Why have I even heard of him? WHY DOES HE WANT TO BE THE KING OF AMERICA?
2. Speaking of Spencer Pratt, Heidi Montag. She has the same huh? what? celebrity going as her husband or boyfriend or brother or second cousin by marriage, whatever the hell he is, except hers is infinitely more sad. This is more of a “Come to your senses, bitch!” slap. Although I’m a little worried my hand would stick to her face if the day was hot enough.
3. “Snooki.” Mostly because her name is Snooki, but also because of the “famous for no reason” thing.
4. The Situation. Who nicknames themselves “The Situation”? Wank-holes, that’s who. (Yes, I’m aware that wank-holes aren’t actually a thing, but it seemed the only proper way to describe someone who godsdamned well nicknames themselves “The Situation.”)
5. Jon Gosselin. Why are people who can’t figure out birth control famous? And why did some moron write in to a gossip mag asking if this person was the same as an actual actor with talent on a television show that requires talent? I want to slap that idiot as much as I want to slap this guy. Frak.
6. Kate Gosselin. Why are people who can’t figure out birth control famous? Part II. Some people think she’s the lesser of two evils, which, sure, maybe she is, but she’s still a craptacular waste of human being.
7. Lindsay Lohan. Partly because she sucks, but mostly because she’s suing e-trade for using her name in their commercials. Because everybody knows the only person named Lindsay in the whole world is this twit. Christ.
8. John Mayer. Nice, guy. Not only do you write that ear-bleedingly craptastic music, you’re also a womanizing racist. It’s like you have a list that you’re checking off of “Ways to be an asshole,” and you haven’t quite made it to kicking puppies and abusing children yet.
9. Tiger Woods. Because I don’t care how famous a golfer is, there is no golfer who should be famous enough to cheat on his hot model wife. He’s a damned golfer! GOLF! ER!
10. Lady Gaga. For not being a drag queen with that name. I mean, the only ladies who go by “Lady” nowadays are either British royalty or not ladies at all. Also, for the clothing and music.
So, in honor of those occasions, here’s the first of three Top Ten lists I hope to write (if I don’t get lazy and give up) in regards to celebrities and slapping.
This list is a Top Ten list of celebrities whose faces make me want to slap them, regardless of talent or beauty. There’s just something about their faces that makes me think: “This celebrity needs to be slapped like a $5 hooker.”
1. Tom Cruise. It doesn’t help that he packs a whole lotta crazy into that teeny-tiny frame, but it’s his maniacal face that just gets my slappin’ hand itchin’ to get to work.
2. Julia Roberts. I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again (I have a problem with short-term memory), but whenever Ms. Roberts smiles, I just want to smack her teeth right out of her skull. Pow! Right in the kisser.
3. Taylor Swift. I only recently learned what Taylor Something’s last name is. Doesn’t make me want to smack her upside the head any less.
4. Robert Pattinson. Partly it’s the hair. Mostly it’s the hair. Gods, learn how to do your hair.
5. Megan Fox. She’s really beautiful and all, but I think that’s part of the problem.
6. Donald Trump. Who doesn’t want to slap The Donald, you know?
7. Milo Ventimiglia. I’m not sure if I’m confusing Milo Ventimiglia’s mug with the (lame-ass) character he portrays on television (you suck, Peter Petrelli!), but I want to slap that boy until he cries.
8. Olivia Wilde. Another beautiful actress who can’t emote worth a damn. I want to smack her just because she gets to spend way more time with (*sighhhh*) Hugh Laurie than she deserves.
9. Robin Williams. He’s just gotten so damn smarmy lately.
10. Tom Hanks. “Why’s she picking on Tom Hanks?” you wonder. “What did Tom Hanks ever do to her?” you wonder. “He seems like a decent guy, and he’s not a bad actor,” you say in his defense. And I get all that, I do. (Or those two things, whatever.) But I JUST WANT TO SLAP HIM. I don’t know why, but I do.
I don’t want you to think my love for Jackie Earle Haley is waning. Because it’s not. Not one bit. I still love Jackie Earle Haley as much as any geeky blogger can love a character actor who played her favorite comic book character in a movie. Which is, actually, a lot.
I love you, Jackie Earle Haley!
That said, there is no way in hell you are getting me to see the Nightmare on Elm Street reboot this weekend. No sir. None.
I mean, Jesus.
Robert Englund was scary enough, right? I mean, he was scary! But knowing it’s Jackie Earle Haley under the hat and the striped sweater and the burn-victim makeup? Makes it ever so much worse.
(I mean, look, I love the guy, but it’s like, what’s preventing him from killing us all in our sleep? Time issues, that’s it, you know?)
(Seriously, don’t you get that vibe from Mssr. Jackie Earle Haley? The lovable sociopath vibe? If he wasn’t a movie and television star, he would make the best assassin ever.)
I just don’t need that kind of terror in my life, all right?
Plus, as much as I hate teenagers, I always feel wrong watching movies like this, where poor little Beaver from Veronica Mars is being murdered for something his parents did. Like, why doesn’t Freddy go after the parents? Oh, right, because parents aren’t sexy or whatever.
And I get the whole “they murdered me so they should suffer” thing, but, really? If I was granted the power to murder the hell out of people in their dreams after my untimely flame-related death? I would kill the people who killed me. No visiting my wrath upon their innocent chilluns, unless their chilluns were jerks who laughed at my spiffy striped sweater, I guess, then they totally deserve it.
Back on topic, ahem, Freddy Krueger has always been the scariest of the movie monsters for me. I mean, yeah, Michael Myers is a scary, undying baddie, and Jason is, whatever, killing you with a machete or something, but it’s not like you absolutely had to get laid in the creepy cabin by the lake, you know? Your own sluttiness has doomed you. Can’t really lay the blame on the disfigured serial-killing movie monster there! You know the rules!
But, damn. Everybody’s gotta sleep.
And, since I need my sleep like I need my whiskey, I absolutely, positively, definitely will not be seeing Nightmare on Elm Street (2010) this weekend. I hope Jackie Earle Haley isn’t too disappointed in me.
Sometimes, I just can’t think of anything funny to write. But that’s all right, because there’s nothing funnier than a model falling down.
Oh, wait, no, there totally is. A reality show contest wannabe model not just falling, but actually getting knocked off the catwalk by a pendulum.
God bless you, America’s Next Top Model.
Because it’s time.
(What, like you don’t already know that Rorschach is a masked vigilante from Alan Moore’s masterwork Watchmen and Batman is the goddamned Batman?)
On to the battle!
Physicality. Rorschach is short, red-headed and smells funny. Batman is a millionaire in the peak of his hotness-itude, because we are going with Bruce Wayne’s Batman here, I don’t care what Grant Morrison is writing now. (I mean, I do care, Mr. Morrison. I think you’re awesome. But Bruce is the only Batman for me, and that’s just how it is.) Winner? Batman, easily.
Better costume: Batman wears a costume that makes him look like a giant bat. Why? Because criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, that’s why. Whatever the reason, it’s an ass-kicking costume, unless it’s from the one movie where they put nipples on it, because who puts nipples on body armor, god. On the other hand, Rorschach wears a trenchcoat and a fedora, so he looks like a film noir detective. Well, except for that weird mask he wears, which covers his face completely (like, how the hell does he see out of that thing, you know?). Coincidentally, the mask is what gives Rorschach his name, because it looks like a rorschach test. Also, the designs on it totally move around for absolutely no reason. Winner? I’m sorry, folks, but I’ve got to go with Rorschach’s moving mask here. That’s just awesome.
Better reason for turning vigilante and fighting crime? Batman, as a young batboy, saw his parents brutally murdered before his eyes after the family went to a viewing of The Mask of Zorro. Coincidentally, Zorro is a masked vigilante. After years of training, he returned to Gotham City, which, duh, of course the place is crime-ridden if you’re going to name it Gotham City, Jesus. Anyway, he returned home and started beating people up. Later, he dressed up as a giant bat. Rorschach was born to a prostitute and some random john. His mother mistreated him. Also, he was bullied. He grew up basically a sociopath, but one with a strong sense of justice. He also bit some kid’s ear off, kind of like a young Mike Tyson. Winner? Hey, if crappy parenting were all it took, the majority of everybody would be masked vigilantes. However, it’s not and they don’t, so Batman wins.
Is shithouse rat crazier? Now, I’m not saying Batman’s not crazy. Because he is. He’s a grown man who dresses up like a bat and fights crime. That’s kind of funny in the head behavior, you know? He’s very crazy. On the other hand, Rorschach is shithouse rat crazy. I mean, his day job is carrying around a sign declaring the world’s going to end soon, and he writes letters to newspapers much like the one I work at, much like the letters we receive. FROM JESUS. That’s his cover, for God’s sake. When he’s Rorschach, shit, you don’t even want to know. He’s a lunatic. I love him so much. Winner? Rorschach.
Most likely to kill you dead as hell? Like that annoying Superman, Batman has this moral code that prevents him from murdering the hell out of people who totally deserve it. Based on that code, I would be the worst masked vigilante ever. On the other hand, Rorschach’s quite willing to murder someone with a vat of hot oil, which is totally an un-superhero-like thing to do and utterly awesome. Winner? Rorschach.
Better detective skills? In some sections, Watchmen is set up like a film noir, with crazy Rorschach crazily narrating while he crazily does some detective work. He’s not bad at it or anything, but he is led to some wrong conclusions pretty easily. I blame his upbringing. Batman only went to the best schools, so he’s the best fictional detective ever (except for L and Sherlock Holmes). Winner? Batman.
Best use of shoe lifts? In real life, Rorschach is shorter than me. But when he’s out on the streets, he’s wearing lifts. I love that about him. It makes him seem more intimidating, because, really, who’s scared of a little teeny guy who will shoot you in the chest with a grappling gun? Everyone, rightfully, but it helps if he looks taller. Batman doesn’t need lifts. He’s the goddamned Batman. Also, he’s pretty tall. Winner? Rorschach.
OK, but how about Grant Morrison’s Arkham Asylum vs. Alan Moore’s Watchmen? These are two of the best comic books in the history of ever, and I only made this category so you guys would know they exist (I know most of you do already, but there’s a couple of you who might not) and READ THEM ALREADY! They are masterpieces!! Winner? A tie!
Saves the world? I can’t think of a specific storyline, but I’m sure Bats has saved the world a couple of times here and there. I mean, he’s the goddamned Batman! Rorschach, however, probably doomed the world by sending his crazy diary of insanity that reveals Adrian Veidt’s plan to save the world by killing a whole lotta folks to a newspaper of ill repute. I know that makes it sound like a weekly rag in a cathouse (you see what I did there?), but I just mean it’s like the World Weekly News to the USA Today. Winner? Batman.
Is the goddamned Batman? Winner? Batman.
Overall winner? The goddamned Batman. (But I still love you, Rorschach!)
I want to see “How to Drain your Dragon.”
In a press release I got at work, Movieguide lashes out against the evils of Kick-Ass (the film we’re still not getting where I live, and now I hear that it’s because of the word “ass” in the title, so huh?).
Here’s a quote from the PSA: “The movie, KICK A** (we’re not spelling it out on purpose. . .) stars 11-year-old Chloe Moretz (now 13) as a young superhero who stabs, shoots, kicks, beats up, and otherwise wipes out evil criminals while saying a few choice ‘f’ words in the process.”
Look, people. They’re not spelling it out on purpose.
They further go on to recommend instead “delightful family friendly animated movie HOW TO DRAIN YOUR DRAGON.”
Which, of course, sounds like one of the best porn movies ever. I mean, “Let’s drain the dragon,” guys, am I right?
On a related note, the title of the press release is: “Hollywood Makes Another Big Mistake in Its Perversion of American Youth.”
I’ve always dreamed of making the big time. Or at least, being fabulously, fabulously wealthy. Like my hero Dorothy Parker said, “I hate rich people. But I think I’d be darling at it.” She was a wise woman, she was.
Anyway, here’s a list of the ways I won’t being making the big time whatsoever.
1. Selling my screenplay about ninja who are also zombies (or vice versa). For one thing, I’d have to write my screenplay about ninja who are also zombies (or vice versa) and I just don’t see that happening.
2. Eccentric millionaire falls for me. “Hey, baby, I love comic books and the flat-chested, tattooed chicks who love them too.”
3. Getting bitten by a radioactive spider and going into pro wrestling. I’d probably just die of cancer. Or not trip a robber or something, and then he’d go and shoot my Uncle Ben. Not Uncle Ben! NOOOOOOOOO!
4. Getting “discovered.” I’m getting a little old for it now, and I think if I had any talents that were “discovered”-worthy, they would have shown up at this point.
5. Winning the lottery. My dream is to someday be that person who’s like, “I never bought a lottery ticket before. I can’t believe I won the $100 million jackpot!” And then not get murdered by my coworkers who buy tickets weekly.
6. Through perseverance and hard work. Sometimes I laugh hysterically at myself for even thinking that’s a possibility.
7. My acting career taking off. Once, I was in a play in college and somebody flubbed a line, so I ad-libbed in response. That is the best acting thing I have ever, or will ever, do. Done. Crap.
8. A wealthy relative suddenly dying and inexplicably leaving everything to me. Actually, I do have some wealthy relatives, but they’ve all got kids of their own. Plus they like my brother better.
9. Becoming a high-paid assassin. First, I’d have to get in shape. Then, I’d have to train. Then, I’d have to get past the whole empathy thing. Plus the “I hate blood” thing. Maybe I’ll just be that assassin who quietly poisons people and runs away.
10. Inventing something awesome. I just thought of this great invention: the “phone signal.” It would be like the bat signal, except the spotlight would shine on my hand in a fist with the thumb and the pinky sticking out. “You have a call!”
So the new Jennifer Lopez vehicle, The Backup Plan, right?
Looks like shite.
Absolute and utter shite.
I can’t even think of anything clever to say about it. I mean, it just looks horrid. Utterly horrid. Like Jennifer Lopez should concentrate on her singing career horrid. Really.
So, instead of telling you how truly and utterly horrible The Backup Plan looks (really, really, really truly and utterly horrible, really), I will instead wax poetic about the explosions-happy The Losers.
Boom! So many things blew up in the trailer! It was a thing of beauty!
(Jeffrey Dean Morgan is also a thing of beauty, so it’s nice to see him in another comic book adaptation.)
There’s wit! There’s a yellow car! There’s some hot chick in lingerie! At one point, she has a rocket launcher! She is totally my dream girl, I swear.
There’s explosions galore!
(I really like explosions.)
There’s a guy shooting people with his fingers!
A betrayal! CIA! NSA! Special Forces! EXPLOSIONS! SO MANY EXPLOSIONS!
It’s like they took everything I love that’s not ninja and zombies and wrapped it up in a burrito for me!
Serial killers are a staple of fiction. They provide frights, gore and stunning insight into the human mind. Except for the stunning insight into the human mind, because who goes around killing people? I mean, I know I’m tempted, but I’ve got this pesky little thing called a “conscience” that keeps me from doing it. I hate that guy.
Anyway, movies, television and books love serial killers, because they’re scary and interesting. That was my point. Yeah.
And speaking of serial killers, do you know who’s a couple of serial killers? Death Note’s Kira (Light Yagami) and Dexter’s Dexter! Also, they kill bad guys, so that makes for some fun times, right?
On to the bloodbath!
Physicality. A lot of people say Michael C. Hall is really attractive. Now, I’m not saying they’re wrong, just that I think they’re wrong. (So, I guess I’m saying they’re wrong.) Seriously, though, I can see how he would be some folks’s type, what with the whole “rugged” thing he’s got going on, but we all know that the only rugged guy who has a place in my heart is Adam “John Casey” Baldwin. On the other hand, Light “pronounced Raito” “Kira” Yagami is drawn like your stereotypical bishonen (that’s pretty boy, for those of you who aren’t into that genre of manga) and is portrayed as a ladykiller. Not literally. Well, sometimes literally. On the other (third, mutant) hand, he was played by this guy:
in the live-action film. Winner? The manga Light Yagami. It’s hard not to root for a guy who’s drawn that pretty.
Has a strict moral code? The weird thing about this pair of serial killers is that they both have a strict moral code. Sure, that strict moral code includes “killing certain people is OK,” but it has the proviso of “those people must be bad, evil, killer-types.” Except that they’ve both killed innocent people, so they kind of suck at following their own moral codes. However, Dexter really does try to avoid murdering the so-called “good guys,” while Light Yagami killed a bunch of FBI agents just because he thought one of them might possibly maybe be able to figure out he was Kira, perhaps. Winner? Dexter.
Willing to get his hands dirty? Metaphorically, they’re both willing to get their hands dirty. Ridding the world of murdering scum such as themselves, that sort of thing. However, physically, only Dexter has a traditional serial killing routine, with the slicing and the blood and the plastic tarp or whatever. Light Yagami just writes down people’s names in a magical notebook of death (hence the series’ name, “Death Note”) and they die of heart attacks. If worst comes to worst, he has a henchman do the dispatching. Winner? Dexter.
Killed a detective who got too close to the truth? Light Yagami murdered L. Light Yagami murdered L! Sighhhh …. OK, actually, he didn’t murder the great detective L. He just set things up so that there would be no choice otherwise for another character. (Like I said, he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.) Similarly, Dexter was not directly responsible for the death of that one detective (I forget his name, but he was the one who said “motherfucker” a lot), but it’s not like he cried when the guy was dead. Winner? Nobody, by a stupid technicality. Otherwise, it would be Kira, because I hate him so much for killing L. *Sniff*
Has a father with a realllllly strict moral code? As a matter of fact, yes! Both these killers have daddies who are policemen. Dexter’s dad helped him come up with “the code” by which he lives, which keeps him killing baddies and mostly out of jail. Light Yagami’s father was on the task force charged with identifying Kira. How’s that for irony? It’s ironic! Kira’s his son! That’s really, really irony! Winner? A tie!
Has a better reason for turning to murder as the solution to all life’s problems? As a child, Dexter witnessed the brutal murder of his mother and was found pretty much caked in her blood. He didn’t have to turn to serial killing, but it kind of seems like really heavy drugs or a psychotic break are the only other options. Light Yagami was bored. Oh, and he wouldn’t mind making the world a better place, but mostly bored. Winner? Dexter.
Has a useless younger sister? Dexter’s sister is actually useful. She’s a cop and also keeps him from going all completely dark side on the viewers. Light Yagami’s sister is just your regular little sister, except she gets kidnapped and never is quite right after that, so that’s pretty useless, actually. Winner? Light Yagami.
Cover wife/girlfriend died a tragic death as the result of her husband/boyfriend’s propensity for serial killing? In the Death Note movie, Light Yagami totally kills his girlfriend using the Death Note, so he will look like a wronged innocent. (Don’t ask; it’s very convoluted, but it works.) In the manga, he has two cover girlfriends, one of whom dies before the series is over and one of whom (says the series creator) kills herself when it’s done. Both deaths are because of the Death Note and/or Light Yagami himself. Dexter’s wife totally got murdered by John Lithgow, the serial killer Dexter was stalking but didn’t get around to killing before it was too late. Winner? A tie again.
Hangs out with a death god? Sorry, folks, Dexter stays firmly in the realm of realistic crime show. No death gods there. Light Yagami, however, spends a lot of his time hanging with the shinigami Ryuk, who dropped the Death Note in the human world, which is what started all the killing in the first place. Winner? Light Yagami.
The tie-breaker question, then: Which serial killer is a braver soul? Dexter isn’t particularly cowardly. He’s got his things that scare him, sure, like getting caught and ruining his family’s lives, stuff like that. But he’s all about horrible, serial-killing justice, and will stop at nothing to achieve it, even if that means facing John Lithgow. (What? He’s scary!) Light Yagami is a whiny coward baby who whines. His death scene is one of the most awesome feats of whininess known to pop culture. He spends a good five minutes pleading for his life, with lots of begging and crying, and it is soooo undignified, you don’t even know. Errrr, spoiler alert. Winner? Dexter.
Overall winner: The guy from the show I don’t even watch! Congratulations, sir!
Can I call you “Coop”? I hope I can. I sincerely do. Because the name Dale makes me think of two things (neither of which is you): 1) a cartoon chipmunk; 2) a singing cowgirl.
You know what? I’m just going to call you “Coop.”
“Coop,” I herewith insert my proposal to live in wedded bliss with you.
I felt I had to make my proposal a bit oblique, since, you know, backwards-talking dwarves and all.
Now, I realize our relationship might be in for some tough times, seeing as how you’re trapped in some alternate dimension surrounded by backwards-talking dwarves, dead beauty queens, red curtains and the other crazy things that were shat out of David Lynch’s brain.
But I’m willing to make some sacrifices.
I mean, my god, “Coop”! You’re “Coop”! Also known as Agent Dale Cooper, the best-est FBI agent ever(-er)!! (Results of a previous fictional character battle notwithstanding.)
We wondered: “Who killed Laura Palmer?”
“Spoiler alert,” you said, because I have learned that there are at least TWO PEOPLE IN MY LIFE WHO HAVE NEVER SEEN TWIN PEAKS AND I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN CONTINUE TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU GUYS!
We wondered: “How good is the pie?”
“Very good,” you said.
We wondered: “Who the hell is Diane?”
“No answer,” you said.
And it was awesome.
But anyway, back to the sacrifices I am willing to make, “Coop,” in order to live with you in wedded bliss.
Let me tell you about something I hate, “Coop.” That thing I hate? It’s the taste and smell of coffee. (Is that technically two things, “Coop”? Because if it is, it springs from one thing, which is “coffee,” so I suppose I could just say, “I hate coffee.”) But you love coffee. My god! Can these two star-crossed kids make it?!
Yes, “Coop.” Yes, we can. Because for you, “Coop,” I will endure the scent of coffee. I will brew it for you every morning. EVERY MORNING. Hell, I will grind your beans if I can — well … grind your beans, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
I am also willing to view my dreams as some sort of manifestation of my problem-solving process, and assume that every night, when I dream about fighting ninja alongside Wolverine or dancing with Simon Pegg or having superpowers that, no, it is not the product of too much pop culture consumerism, but is actually a key to freeing you from that alternate dimension. (Ooooh, also, I had this dream recently that I teamed up with Batman and you to solve Laura Palmer’s murder, and I totally had these awesome superpowers, and there was champagne. I never wanted to wake up, “Coop”!)
And then, together with the dancing turkey from that crazy Peter Gabriel video, I will bust through to the alternate dimension and take your ass back home with me.
(I’m pretty sure this will work, “Coop.”)
(I mean, relatively sure.)
Anyway, get back to me! I’ll assume if, tonight, I dream about the cast of M*A*S*H (TV or movie version), you’ve said yes!