Halloween Costume Concepts For 2009

1. Cut out a picture of Farrah Fawcett’s head from a magazine and tape it to your knees. Next, go to Kinko’s and have them blow up a photo of Michael Jackson’s head as large as they possibly can. Affix the Michael Jackson head to the upper part of your body and you will have the perfect outfit that demonstrates how the King of Pop’s death completely overshadowed that of Charlie’s favorite Angel.

2. Put on water skis. Glue a copy of any given season of “The Office” to your chest. Leave the house and delight when fellow trick-or-treaters recognize you as “Beloved Yuppie TV Show Jumping The Shark.”

3. Drape yourself in an old white bed sheet. Cut out eye holes. Put on horn-rimmed glasses over the eye holes. Emit as sarcastic and dissatisfied a stance as you can. You have become the ghost of David Cross’s career.

4. Purchase the smallest Ed Hardy shirt that can fit over your torso. Get extremely drunk, attempt to put the shirt on, and crawl on top of a riding lawnmower whilst a Marlboro Red dangles unlit from your lips. Congratulations – you’re Jon Gosselin’s kids in fifteen years.

5. Open your closet. Find the Sarah Palin costume you wore last year. Put it on. Spend all night telling people you’re supposed to be Tina Fey. When the clock strikes midnight, get up on the nearest chair, scream, “I fooled you by going rogue, gosh darn it!”, and start pelting people with books.

6. Purchase the most abrasive neon shit you can find at the Salvation Army. Put it all on at once and then pay your sister to blog for you. Ta-da! You’re Perez Hilton.

7. Crazy glue a table cloth to your face. Now you’re ready to go out as Lady GaGa.

An Open Letter To Richard Heene

Dear Rapscallion,

So there I was, mere moments away from setting my homemade submarine adrift in the Colorado River. I had my iPhone in hand, with a 9 and a 1 already punched in. The cat was safely stashed away at the home of a fellow Taco Johns employee – I had literally nothing to worry about as I prepared to shove the tiny vessel that had cost me $17,000 (welding lessons included) away from the shore line. My plan to send the media on the wildest of proverbial goose chases while simultanously smearing my delicious yolk all over America’s gullible, swine-like face was almost complete.

Then, for some reason, before I kicked my creation off and dialed in that last 1 to frantically explain that my little Woogums was potentially trapped in an air-tight vessel headed straight for the most dangerous stretch of rapids in Kremmling County, I decided to eat a bran muffin from the glove box of my 1971 Dodge Dart. As I sat in the driver’s seat and scarfed down my less-than-appetizing snack, I scanned CNN.com to see what was going on in the world. What headline should greet me in a matter of seconds?

“SIX YEAR OLD TRAPPED IN RUNAWAY HOT AIR BALLOON.”

I almost choked to death on my incredibly dry muffin. The audacity! For the next twelve hours, I sat in my beloved Dart and watched the whole thing unfold. I couldn’t believe my eyes. When had you been in my house? When had you seen my elaborate blueprints? They boasted a littany of ideas, including some sort of helium-based dirigible, very much like the one Wolf Blitzer was currently drooling over.

I was flabbergasted. Clearly my Brinks home security system had failed me for the last time. And to use a child, Mr. Heene, a real human child, rather than a cat! Well sir, that was unprecedented.

I applaud your ingenuity, sir, but I scorn your face just the same. I am now remarkably in debt with absolutely nothing to show for it. There is no way my wife is coming back to me now. You are a foul trickster and I shall determine how you breached my inner sanctum if it’s the last thing I do. May you rot in the self-imposed prison of reality television you seek to dominate.

Yours in pain and humiliation,

J. Greene II

Captain Lou Haiku

Rubber bands in beard
Cyndi Lauper by your side
true original.

Happy Columbo Day!

Not only did this great man discover America, he also enjoys billiards and his favorite food is chili!

JB Sums Up The Stupidity Of The “Office” Wedding

My always astute pal JB, speaking on the subject of this week’s biggest sitcom union:

“I love how NBC pushed that, like I’m supposed to get all psyched up for some contrived event where a majority of the people in attendance happen to be on the show. It’s like, yeah, Jim and Pam only know people from the office, and invite everyone there to their wedding. I remember inviting people who hated me to my wedding, like Dwight hates Jim. ‘Hey man, you hate me, come to my wedding!’”

So fucking true.

Letterman Just Cost Conan His Job

Seriously – Dave’s been whipping the tar out of Conan ratings-wise since Big Red took over “The Tonight Show.” Now, after this whole extortion/sex thing, tonight’s episode of “Letterman” will probably have more viewers than the moon landing. NBC doesn’t even promote Conan any more – it’s all about Jay Leno now and reminding old people his gargantuan chin is back on TV. It also kinda feels like the Peacock is front loading Leno with all the prime A-list guests (next Thursday is a good example; Leno’s got Gerard Butler and Jack Black, while Conan follows with Jimmie Johnson and the motherfuckin’ Backstreet Boys).

The past year has proven NBC is an organization dedicated to bullshit decisions (“SNL” on Thursdays? For real? Just make a new show, you cheap assholes), so I lay most of the blame for Conan’s pending unemployment/suicide on them. However, who would have counted on such a strong Letterman comeback? I mean, come on – a Letterman sex scandal? NOW? Dave, you’re already on top. You don’t have to friggin’ nuke Conan.

And the truly amazing part is no one cares! The general consensus regarding Letterman nailing young girls is, “Play on, playa!” Conan O’Brien practically cracked his head open earlier this week just trying to be funny and everybody rolled their eyes. “He’s trying too hard,” they huffed. Now America is applauding a sixty-two year old man for dippin’ his fun rod in company goods. Clearly this illustrates how sex, and not violence (even if violence is accompanied by Teri Hatcher in a silver track suit), sells.

David Letterman in his guise as Awesome Santa Claus.

Dave Letterman, you are one of my comedy heroes, but you are killing my man Conan over here. Please level the playing field a bit and retire soon (like next week). Go out on this sex scandal and you’ll be hailed as the hero everyone believes you are. I mean, come on, dude – you got Drew Barrymore to wag her tits in your face AND you made it happen with that cute Monty chick. What more could you possibly want? There is nothing left to accomplish, short of raising Calvert DeForest from the dead.

Serious question – who will replace Dave when he does retire? Craig Ferguson? Jon Stewart? Colbert? This keeps me up at night. All three of those guys could give Conan a run for his money.

Jeez. I wonder if Conan ever regrets leaving “The Simpsons.”

Casting The Kanye West MTV Freak-Out Movie I Just Wrote The Script For

This hastily-assembled shit is going to be amazing. Let’s go back in time a month and make it happen.

CONFUSED AMBITION: THE TRUE STORY OF THE 2009 MTV MUSIC VIDEO AWARDS

Starring

CUBA GOODING, JR. as Kanye West

“I’m real happy for you, Rain Man, and I’m-a let you finish, but Radio was one of the best mentally challenged hero movies of all-time!”

Who else could bring Kanye’s potent mix of earnest and crazy alive on the silver screen? Godfrey Cambridge? I’m pretty sure that guy is dead, so we’re going with Cuba.

RENÉE ZELLWEGER as Taylor Swift

“You had me at meaningless award for useless, outmoded media.”

Computer technology will make her thinner, younger, and more pucker-faced.

TARAJI P. HENSON as Beyoncé Knowles

“All the single ladies – please, don’t get high on crack and leave your baby in an oven.”

I was gonna say Beyoncé as herself, but that wouldn’t have been very creative. Taraji’s good, I’m sure she can pull off that astonished-but-still-kind-of-tickled-pink look Beyoncé had on her face after Kanye hijacked the mic.

BRIGITTE NIELSEN as Kanye’s bald girlfriend

This is an old photo. A VERY old photo.

Again, computer technology would have to be employed to bring Brigitte back from the brink of, uh, whatever you call the place where she is now.

SWEETUMS as Joe Jackson

“My son is dead. Buy some of his records already!”

The resemblance is spooky. Just throw a fedora on his head, toss a bottle of Hennessey in his paw, and BOOM – you got the guy who smacked the black off-a Michael AND helped get Kanye schnockered before the show started.

CISCO ADLER as Russell Brand

Some kinda joke about his huge balls.

I just want to give this idiot a job.

NICOLE KIDMAN as Madonna

“I was married to Tom Cruise, so I understand crazy people.”

This is a pivotal role; Madonna’s self-serving Michael Jackson “tribute” speech is probably what subconsciously set Kanye off. No one could believe all that shit she was saying. Madonna has eight brothers? Where the fuck are they? Anyway, only Nicole Kidman could handle the rigors of this film’s second most psychologically complex role.

DELTA BURKE as Katy Perry

“I kissed a girl, and then I ate her for lunch.”

Someone has to be shown Twittering their rage at the after party.

JONAH HILL as the Internet

“What the fuck, Kanye? Watch my response video and subscribe!”

If any one actor could accurately represent the rage, desperation, and utter loneliness of the world wide web’s countless armchair pundits, it’s Jonah Hill. He would be filmed entirely with a low quality webcam, in his underwear, with absolutely no edits, complaining about what “asshole Kanye” did to his “fake girlfriend Tay Tay.”

Naturally, I will direct this fabulous slab of cinema myself and sell it to the highest bidder.

Is it too soon to whisper Emmy Oscar Nobel Peace Prize?

Randy Quaid Is In Deep Shit (And I Don’t Care)

You may have noticed no news has developed on the Chuck Biscuits interview front. There’s an explanation for this, but I don’t really know if it’s cool for me to talk about it here. Suffice to say exterior forces have reared their ugly head and all I can do is wait. Patiently. Hopefully fortunes shall reverse and the interview will take place as planned. If not, I’ll eventually unravel the entire sordid affair (which surprisingly does not involve as many clowns or stolen ice cream trucks as you’d imagine).

Things I learned watching Nerdcore Rising (a.k.a. See, White Guys Rap About D&D & Calculus Like This): MC Frontalot is way more likable than previously imagined; “Weird Al” apparently likes to prop up a bunch of his old CDs when pressed for set decoration; Jello Biafra NEVER has time to SIT DOWN to be interviewed for ANYTHING because he’s SO BUSY SPREADING THE TRUTH and having nasty herpes-looking scars on his lip; MC Frontalot has a full band and not just a guy and a laptop like MC Chris; MC Frontalot is Pat Boone to MC Chris’s Carl Perkins.

Putting Masters Of The Universe and Flash Gordon at the top of my Netflix queue seemed like a good idea Monday night; now that arrival of these discs is pending, I regret not falling down a well Tuesday morning.

While we’re on the subject of talkies, the trailer for the Nightmare On Elm Street remake looks promising:

Sadly, this probably means they aren’t making Freddy vs. Jason vs. Bruce Campbell vs. Predator or whatever the hell the Freddy vs. Jason sequel was supposed to be. Oh well. We’ll always have our dreams, won’t we, fan boys? By the way, this Nightmare remake is being helmed by “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video director Sam Bayer, who totally looks like a cross between Mickey Rourke and that guy from Nickelback:

This is how you remind me.

No wonder Kurt Cobain gave him such a hard time.

Okay, so we’re all in agreement that the best episode of “Saturday Night Live” ever was the one Sinbad hosted, right? I just wanted to make sure. That “Black Lightening” shit is more hilarious than Seth Meyers’s entire career.

Someone please buy me the t-shirt pictured below as soon as possible:

What’s funny is that kid is probably in fuckin’ Cleveland.

So, I have a YouTube account, and I have a video camera, but I can never think of any good video ideas. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. That’s the best I could come up with in two weeks. I don’t think I was made to vlog.

It’s Fran Drescher’s birthday today. Make up your own “OMG, she sounds like a bleating sheep!” joke.

Clark Kent Majored In Sucking

Once upon a time (1988), there was a very lousy syndicated television version of “Superboy” that explored what Clark Kent’s life was like during college. It was kind of like Adam West’s “Batman,” except they weren’t being dumb on purpose. Here, take a look:

Yowza. I like Sherman Howard’s take on Lex Luthor, but everything else is…well, you saw it.

“Superboy,” despite a slew of troubles behind the scenes, managed to last four unimpressive seasons before slipping off into the same vortex that ate “The Munsters Today” and “Out Of This World” (a.k.a. the show where Burt Reynolds voiced a talking intergalactic diamond). I remember watching this bastardized “Kid Of Steel” series as a child, and I was not a fan. I certainly would have never given “Superboy” another thought had I not learned just yesterday that the show was partially shot on location at my alma mater, the University of Central Florida.

UCF stood in for “Shuster University” in the town of “Siegelville,” Florida (real subtle there, right?). I didn’t even know Clark Kent went to college. I always thought he went straight from Kansas to Metropolis after high school (as evidenced by another piece of writing I posted on here not too long ago). I guess it would be stupid to assume the Daily Planet just hands over reporting gigs to people without degrees. Then again, no one ever noticed how much Clark looked like Superman, not even Lois, who I’m pretty sure boinked ‘em both at various times when she was still out of the loop.* Maybe the folks running the DP are just straight-up stupid.

Hey, I recognize that blank wall! That’s Room 212 in the Math & Physics building!

But I digress. Had I known they filmed one of the worst TV shows of all-time in and around the area where I was studying to become a failed journalist, I would have been way more excited to roll up to campus in the morning. To think – I probably walked the same sidewalks as Gerard Christopher and John Haymes Newton! Pissed in the same urinals as George Chakiris! Perhaps even rested by weary bones on the very bench Gilbert Gottfried utilized when he guested starred as “Nick Knack” in Season 2! I’m getting woozy just thinking about it.

Forget Daunte Culpepper and Cheryl Hines. Next time someone asks me about where I went to college, I’m bringing “Superboy” up. I almost, ALMOST, want to run out and get the Season 1 DVD to see if I can recognize anything (the other seasons haven’t been released yet due to some crazy legal bullstuff). A couple shots in that YouTube clip up top looked familiar, but I’d have to cross reference them with a late eighties Orlando travel brochure.

“You’ll never get funding for a student radio station, Superboy! I’ve given it all to the football program!”

Related story: a friend of a friend once got Baker Acted by his own mother and ended up in a nut house. He started talking to some guy there about comic books, and then all of a sudden this guy reveals he’s Scott James Wells, a.k.a. Lex Luthor from “Superboy’s” first season. Not sure what he was doing in the loony bin. I’m not even sure if my friend of a friend was telling the truth about this alleged encounter. The only evidence supporting the Scott J. Wells nut house story is the fact that Wells never really did anything after “Superboy,” and his Wiki mentions something about rehab. So if this is all baloney, don’t come after me. I’m just passing along unsubstantiated gossip that I never claimed was absolute truth. Back off, SJ Wells supporters!

* – I could be totally wrong about this. Nerds, rise up and correct me.

Does Anyone Else Remember When Liz Phair Admitted She Was Hot For Her Cousin?

The whole Mackenzie Phillips brouhaha last week reminded me – during one of VH-1’s numerous mid-century nostalgia jack-off sessions, Liz Phair told some weird story about getting turned on by her male cousin one time when he was shirtless and singing “My Sharona.” Am I the only person who remembers this? I scoured Youtube but could find no video evidence. I know it happened. I saw it like five times. Please, someone, tell me I’m not crazy.

Nash Kato probably took this picture.

This was around the same time, I believe, that Liz started dressing all sexy and making Target commercials. So perhaps her rabid indie fan base was distracted by that heresy to the extent a little familial lust didn’t seem like such a big deal. I don’t know. WHAT I DO KNOW is Lizzie appeared absolutely not ashamed of her cousin makin’ her horny. And why should she? It’s not like they were waking up in the middle of drug-fueled coitus and discussing plans to move to Thailand.

In conclusion, Liz Phair is history’s greatest monster and I demand she go on Oprah to atone for her crimes against humanity.