Seven people were arrested in the U.S., accused of operating the New York cell of what prosecutors said was a network that carried out thefts at ATMs in 27 countries from Canada to Russia.
Having been brainwashed by my father at a young age that the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade is a wonderful, worthwhile viewing experience, I’ve watched it pretty much every year since I was a wee one. I don’t know why I watch it anymore. I can almost still feel the revolver pointed against my head during those happy family Thanksgiving mornings spent watching together.
As I’m growing older (41 years) and beginning to formulate my own opinions, I’ve decided I needed to prove to myself if this show is actually as wonderful as I was tricked into believing.
Without further adieu, my 2011 Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade Report Card.
Singing Clown College. A bunch of 20-something’s masquerading as teenagers dancing around and singing while shitty clowns dance and sing with them. Band leader is a clown. It was as good as it sounds. Choreography by Steven Hawking. Grade: F
NBC Plug for Parenthood TV show with Lauren Grahmn and some other dude. Lauren Grahmn is hot. I have no idea what the dude said or who he is. He’s either a mic grip guy or an actor on the show. Parenthood is a show I wouldn’t watch if you had me in front of the TV, tied to a chair, with my eyelids sewn open. Grade: D-
Cast from the Broadway Show Newsies performing King of New York: Includes tap dancing. Gay. Grade: F+
[During a needed commercial break, I make an attempt to turn the TV to the football game pre-show, but the kids rebuff me. Wife on phone with in-laws. We can hear Papa in the background screaming the phone is broken. Nana tells him it’s because he’s holding the phone backwards. Laughter ensues. Old people are funny.].
Interview with Elle McPherson while Al Roker reads off cue cards. She’s still hot for 70, but I could care less what she’s talking about. She could talk about her ability to queef Singing In the Rain out of her vagina and I’d still be on the edge of my seat. Grade: A-
Performance from the cast of Broadway show Sister Act. I don’t need to say anymore. Nuns are scary. Happy, singing nuns is just plain stupid. Grade: F. Their token “black” nun is prettier than Whoopi Goldberg, but not much. They could’ve really raised the grade if they got Rhianna. Grade: F+
Al Roker spots the Mickey Mouse balloon and awkwardly runs down the street to talk to a handler about how Mickey is doing. Watching Al run is funny enough to warrant my attention to the show thus far. I wish I could rewind it and watch that highlight again, but sadly I am without DVR at present location. Grade: B
Performance from Broadway show How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying featuring Harry Potter singing. No glasses. No scar. No Hermione. It is shitaceous in every sense of the word. Dumbledore himself couldn’t save this mess. Grade: F Dan Fielding from ancient NBC comedy Night Court makes an appearance. I thought he was dead. Grade: D- If the show was aptly named How to Succeed in Being A Douche Without Really Trying, it would get an A+. Current title is very misleading. Gay men everywhere would proclaim this as being “too gay”.
Performance from Bette Middler’s Priscilla Queen of the Desert. Looks like the Gay Pride parade to me. Grade: C- The real grade is an F, but I don’t want to get branded as a homophobe. Bette didn’t even bother to show up. I’m sure she’s somewhere being really Jewish and eating.
[I start picking dead skin off my feet hoping this will end soon.]
Al Roker interviews a couple actors from new NBC show Grimm. I heard it’s good. Grade: C Al continues to read exactly what’s on the cue cards and not respond to any answer given to the questions he asks the actors.
[Another shitty commercial break. I don’t believe Justin Bieber will be at the Macy’s Sale beginning at midnight as is portrayed in the ad. I ponder if 9:42am is too early to start drinking?]
Al Roker interviews lesser actress from NBC show 30 Rock. She’s got her kid and ugly husband with her. She looks like she regrets the choice she made to marry this douche and recreate with him. I don’t even think it’s his kid. Grade: F Al shamelessly plugs 30 Rock as the cue cards tell him too.
Performance from Broadway disaster Spiderman: Turn off the Dark featuring the music of U2. There is an electric guitar lead-in which perks me up and sparks an interest. Ten seconds later the performance begins, my interest wanes, and goes quickly into the shitter. Epic fail. A more appropriate name would be Spiderman: Turn off the Show. Grade: D only because Spiderman’s martial arts are marginally cool. But why are there eight Spidermans? New Grade: F
[9:49am. How @#$@#$ long is this show? Insurance company commercial with the theme from Cheers. Sacrilege!! ]
Radio City Rockettes performance. All wearing cute red & green Xmas skirts. It would be better if they weren’t wearing panties. Grade: C
Some Marching Band. Seen one, seen em all…. Grade: F
NYPD Motorcycle Unit. Most likely on their way to kick Occupy Wall Street bums protester’s asses. Grade: B+
Pilgrim Man & Woman balloon heads. Creepy & odd. Grade: B
Tom the Turkey float. Oh….it’s the C-list actress Debi Mazar sitting on top with her ugly husband. Grade: C because I like turkey and this is a big one! Holy schnikes! It’s Avril Lavigne sitting on the bottom of the float lip-syncing some song I’ve never heard, and hope I never do again. Grade: F [I’m hoping a drunk Brody Jenner will stagger out of the crowd and go down on her, but it doesn’t happen.]
[Another commercial. I head outside for a smoke while I eagerly await the Diary of a Wimpy Kid balloon. Goody goody gumdrops.]
The Homestead High school Marching Band from Nowhereville, USA. Includes a flag girl core where they’re dressed like Quakers. I don’t understand. Grade: F
An adorable float of cute, cuddly forest creatures dressed as Pilgrims while unknown country singer Rodney Atkins croons some clichéd song about taking a country back road to purify his soul. This Mayflower sinks quickly….Grade: F
There’s the Diary of Wimpy Kid balloon….and there it goes. That was hardly worth the wait. Grade: F
The Sesame Street Float! Finally some entertainment! There’s Bob and Maria and the black guy! If Mr. Hooper’s corpse was out there with them it would be perfect! Grade: B That little Elmo is so cute.
[10:12am. Cee Lo Green is coming up. Isn’t that the “Fuck You” song guy? Somehow I’m doubting he’ll sing it, but I can hope! My wife reports from downstairs that the bird is in! Spirits rise!]
More balloons! Who gives a shit. Grade: F
A Hamburger Helper float? What? I love Hamburger Helper! Unknown Ingrid Michaelson signs a song from the float the strangely features a dead tree, a fire engine, and a house. I don’t get it. If they had the Hamburger Helper Hand guy it would raise the grade. But they didn’t. This is more like Tuna & Dogshit Helper. Grade: F
Another High school marching band. This time from Tennessee. They all have Copenhagen Chew rings in the back pockets of their band uniforms. Even the girls. Matt Lauer proclaims they’re playing the “explosive” song Dynamite. I’ll have to take his word for it. My bunghole feels like it’s going to explode. Grade: F
Ancient hockey players Cam Neely and another guy come by on the Discover Card float. The float sucks. They look like they can’t wait to get to a bar. Cee Lo Green gets jiggy wit’ it and belts out a pretty decent R&B tune I’ll probably never hear again. It’s OK. Grade: C Higher marks could’ve been earned if he sang the “Fuck You” song.
Camp Broadway? I don’t know what this is. It’s another float with cute foresty creatures. They are not dressed like Pilgrims. I don’t know if this is a different float than the other one. Some young chick lulls on about not forgetting to make a wish and believe in the power? I don’t know if she’s talking about Superman, Santa Claus, or meth. I do know she, along with this float, suck. Grade: F
Pillsbury Dough Boy balloon time! Mmmmm Pilsbury Crescent Rolls. Just like my foster mom used to make. Grade: A
The reigning American Idol champ, Scotty McCreary stands atop a parade float decorated like a stove from 1910. American Idol is still on the air? Grade: F Float is sponsored by Morton’s Salt! New grade: D
Skateboarding Kool-Aid man balloon! I learn 500 million gallons of Kool-Aid are consumed every year! I surmise the viewing of the parade isn’t a complete loss as I learned something new. Grade: B
Spongebob Squarepants balloon flies by and Anne Curry proclaims it’s the first square balloon ever in the parade! It would be impossible for me to care any less. Grade: F
Hawaiian All State Marching Band comes by. They’re all dressed in hula skirts. I’m sure they can’t wait to get out of the concrete jungle and back to beautiful Hawaii. They look really cold. Grade A for Hawaii.
Someone named Michael Feinstein comes by on a pirate ship. This sucks. Then I notice they’re not like African or Somalian pirates, but MUPPET pirates! Grade: B. Would’ve been an A if they made this Feinstein jerkoff walk the plank or decapitated him or something cool like that. Shoot him out of a cannon into the side of a building maybe?
[10:40am. Coming up the Power Rangers Ninja or something. Perfect time for a smoke break here.]
The Power Rangers are here. And I thought they left about 20 years ago. I was wrong. Even my children seem disgusted and puzzled by this spectacle. I think they’d rather be doing homework. Grade: F
Hey! The Earth balloon! Boring, but it looks nice. Looks much better than our real earth. Grade: C- They neglected to include the multi-mile gyres of trash floating in the oceans worldwide.
A construction site float proudly displays a HESS sign which I guess is … wait for it … a construction company? A Disney Channelesque band performs a very lame pop song. Grade: D. I liked the crane.
The Carmel High School marching band from Indiana comes by! I’ve been waiting for this. Not really….. Fortunately, the rifle core is not dressed as Quakers. Grade: D
The On the Roll Again float of enlarged pull-toys comes by. Sponsored by Homewood Suites, I’m unable to draw the correlation, but I’ll go with it. Some young girl named China, whom my 9-year old daughter recognizes and begins bopping to, proudly lip-syncs. Grade: F Gaga would’ve been a better choice.
[I hope for the balloon handlers will come by flying Michael Moore, but they don’t.]
Native American Dancers come by doing what they do best! No, not drink! They’re doing Indian dances! Unfortunately, it doesn’t start to rain. They suck. Grade: F
The Snoopy Balloon! Who doesn’t love Snoopy? Me. Woodstock however, is right behind him and saves it. Grade: C
Another High School marching band comes by and they’re all dressed like George Washington. Grade B for good costumes.
The Mount Rushmore parade float rolls by featuring Mr. America himself, Neil Diamond! He dances uncomfortably while singing his own Coming to America. Cherry, Cherry would’ve been my choice, but Neil never disappoints. The cute kids dressed as little bison is a nice touch. Grade: B+
[11am. I’m sure there’s tons of fun & frolic left, but two hours is about all I can do knowing the Packers & Lions are fighting for division supremacy a few short channels away. ]
All in all, I guess my love of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade wasn’t due to the quality, family entertainment, but the memories of watching it with my Dad….regardless of the gun pointed to my head. I wish he was here today to not enjoy it with me. (Don’t worry, he’s not dead yet. He’s just somewhere else today.)
Happy Father’s Day everyone!! And Thanksgiving too!
Note to NBC Executives: To improve next years broadcast, I’d like to suggest reuniting the 1977 cast of Saturday Night Live including the Late John Belushi. Get them all drunk and coked up and let them ad-lib the hosting duties. I think it would make it better.
While many Americans celebrate our country’s Independence today, I’d like to call attention to the huge population of American dipshits we have living amongst us without the slightest idea of what independence is. Many of these imbeciles, are the folks eating hotdogs, blowing their fingers off, getting hammered, and most likely calling in to work sick in the morning if by some miracle they’re gainfully employed. They’re also one of the reasons why this country is so fucked up.
Independence is:
Having a child you planned to have because you understand the ramifications of having one, are in a longterm, healthy relationship, and can afford Pampers & daycare.
Moving out of your parent;s house and maybe take care of yourself for a change. You’re 28. It’s time.
Planning for the future.
Having a full time job and managing to not get yourself fired.
Buying your own shit without using imaginary money.
Having priorities. The next time you’re shoplifting, ask yourself this: Do you need the new Little Jon CD or formula for your kid? Which one is the actual priority.
Understanding financing and buying a house you can actually afford.
Paying your bills on time. Bills are not surprises that randomly show up in the mail. Get a calendar and learn to use it.
Realizing that being a character on Teen Mom is not a career choice.
I’m having trouble celebrating independence when all I see are more and more American’s living off the government tit and making themselves more and more dependent and running away from their responsibilities. The continual cycle of idiots bearing and raising new ones will pretty much guarantee this is one of the last 4th of July’s we’ll have to celebrate. So live it up!
Now, if you run out of smokes, and send your kid pedaling to the corner store for a pack of Kools, I’ve got no problem with that. If you’re on your Huffy riding to 7-11 to rent Beaches staring Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey, I’ve got no problem with that either. (Other than your taste in films). If you’re trying to evade a pursuing rapist…Again, I have no problems with this. As Tony Danza’s bicep proudly proclaims “Keep on Truckin'”
What I do have a problem with is the pimple on the ass of America’s roads and highways; The Cyclist (which sort of sounds like a possible name for a future Kevin Costner film). I’m speaking of the guy with the little saddlebags on his wheel hubs. The guy with sixteen water bottles attached to his bike frame. The man clearly wearing a boys-sized shirt, spandex pants, and a funny pointy helmet. You my friend, are a pain in my ass and couldn’t carry Lance Armstrong’s jock on a good day.
Everywhere else in nature, mammals know the rule of “Get the fuck out of the way, or get run over.” Fish swim away from boats. Birds fly away from planes. Deer, which are stupid, get caught in the headlights and you’ve seen what happens to them.
However, knowing these natural laws, makes no difference to the cyclist prick. He sits idly in front of my car waiting for the light to turn green while I ponder how I can run him over and get away with it. I would, if I could. I’m seething as I look at empty sidewalks and open road in front of you, waiting for your sorry ass to go from zero to thirty in 12 blocks. You… are not… a car! Get the fuck out of the way! Beep! Beep!
You can’t find another way to exercise? Bicycling on city streets while you piss off one driver after another is the only way you can work up a good calorie burn? Riding on the sidewalk doesn’t let you fly your I’m-a-Dickhead flag high enough? Honestly? Cycle or die, huh?
I understand folks like to get outdoors for recreation time. In the mountains I see people camping, rafting, kayaking, mountain biking, motorcycling, hiking, and enjoying outdoor intercourse. However, there’s one thing that separates these naturalists from cyclists. They’re all smiling. (The guy getting the hummer is really smiling.) The cyclist is huffing and puffing, dripping sweat, vein in his forehead pulsating like it’s about to explode; disgusting.
Why can’t you jerkoffs just drive and do a few jumping jacks when you get there…. I don’t get it.
The sun has been up a few hours this morning and I head to Safeway with my boy to pick up some food for our Boy Scout outing this weekend. While walking through the parking lot I spy a boy/man sitting on a bench enjoying his breakfast of a Reese Peanut Butter cup, Red Bull, and a Marlboro. I ask him if his mother would approve. He makes a noise that sort of resembles an uncomfortable laugh and we walk on by. I weep for the future. I’m sure he’s flipping me off as we disappear into the store.
Once inside I explain to my boy we need english muffins and mini cereal boxes for our share of his patrol’s food and invite him to lead the way. Surprisingly he charges off and puzzles me as he takes a left turn down the frozen food aisle and proudly stops at the case. “What the fuck is this?” I ask him. He proudly points to the sign clearly reading “breakfast” above my head. I weep for the future. He’s a dipshit, but I kind of understand why he came down the aisle now. I gently explain to him that he’s an idiot, but it’s not his fault because he takes after his mother. I tell him that bread products are generally with the bread. I don’t shop so I’m not sure how I know this, but I am able to guide him safely to the bakery none-the-less. The muffins stand before us in all their glory and I explain to him things about pricing, flavors, etc. He’s buying for 10 kids. He immediately bypasses the obvious packs of 10-muffins I was guiding him to pick up and instead picks up the 6 pack of muffins for twice the price of the 10-pack. A nice lady is standing by and she overhears what I’m saying to him and jumps into our conversation. I’m pretty sure it’s just because she wants to bang me so I let her have her fun. She points out a 10-pack that costs half as much as his 6-pack. He nods, smiles, does the customary 12-year-old “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Now I ask him “Which one do you want?” He picks up the same $4 six-pack of muffins. I weep for the future. I correct him and we grab the 10-pack and make our way to the cereal isle.
Once we locate it, he’s quickly able to decide that the only package of cereal mini packages they carry is the right one to buy. I’m not weeping this time, but I’m not real impressed either.
We pay and walk out. The same boy/man who forgot everything his mother told him about the importance of a healthy breakfast gives me a nod and tells us to have a nice day. What a sweet kid. Maybe I shouldn’t judge so quickly and think this kid might be ok. A few more steps out of this boy/mans earshot range, my kid lets a gigantic fart that sets off car alarms. He breaks into a maniacal laugh. As I bust up with him, I continue weeping for the future on the inside….
Your guide to the fascinating world of the cubicle savanna and the creatures therein…
The Cat Lady
Scientific Name: Gonna Livealoneus.
Physical Characteristics: Almost exclusively female, males do exist. Size usually related to age. Older Cat Lady’s generally are plumper than the younger ones. Commonly wears costume jewelry, shitaceous sweaters, and comfortable shoes. Generally slow movers with bad backs due to continual litter box cleaning. Overzealous application of Avon perfume. Can smell like urine, but not common. Glasses.
Habitat: Lives in an unpretentious cubicle easily identifiable by cat photos completely covering every inch of available wall surface. There are no photos of humans anywhere to be found in Cat Lady’s den. (One exception is Cat Lady may have a small framed photo of its mother). May have a dish of fragrant potpourri. Cheap hand lotion. Pencils scattered with chewed erasers. If your office supply closet is out of thumb tacks, there is commonly a den nearby.
Behavior: Can generally be found talking about its cats, taking time off to go to the vet, complaining about the high cost of the vet, rolling lint brushes on themselves. applying too much perfume, organizing the church women’s group on company time, caring for its mother, and snacking.
Diet: Erasers, Meow Mix, decaf coffee with cream, Lean Cuisines
Reproduction: Extremely rare. Cat Lady’s rarely reproduce and instead enjoy an asexual relationship with their furry counterparts. (It has been suggested in some circles that a commensal sexual relationship may exist that involves tunafish, but has never been proven.)
Numbers: Low. Larger offices will generally have at least one.
Danger: None. Completely harmless.
Status: Rare, but not endangered. Population remains constant even with such a low rate of reproduction
While many Americans celebrate our country’s Independence today, I’d like to call attention to the huge population of American dipshits we have living amongst us without the slightest idea of what independence is. Many of these imbeciles, are the folks eating hotdogs, blowing their fingers off, getting hammered, and most likely calling in to work sick in the morning if by some miracle they’re gainfully employed. They’re also one of the reasons why this country is so fucked up.
The sun has been up a few hours this morning and I head to Safeway with my boy to pick up some food for our Boy Scout outing this weekend. While walking through the parking lot I spy a boy/man sitting on a bench enjoying his breakfast of a Reese Peanut Butter cup, Red Bull, and a Marlboro. I ask him if his mother would approve. He makes a noise that sort of resembles an uncomfortable laugh and we walk on by. I weep for the future. I’m sure he’s flipping me off as we disappear into the store.
Pros of being a father:
brentallica 