Cursed Tongue

What's Your Damage?

2008-09-12T11:13:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

What's Your Damage?

Glassholes

2008-08-22T15:50:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Glassholes

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Bearing Witless, Part 2

2008-07-09T13:52:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Bearing Witless, Part 2

Cursed Tongue Guide to Getting Out of Jury Duty

2008-06-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

Don’t respond to the summons. The rate of return for a jury summons is 80%. Responses to a summons can trigger further calls to serve in court. Because why wouldn’t the government punish people for doing what they’re supposed to? And let jury shirkers fanny about the U. S. of A. as if this was some kind of free country or something.

Whine about supporting 4 imaginary children while your imaginary wife works imaginary 13-hour shifts.

When they ask if anyone knows the defendant, lean forward, squint at him and say, “Daddy?”

Complain loudly about resenting the entire judicial system.

Exclaim, “What?” or “Could you repeat that?” to any question.

Claim that you believe the defendant must be guilty or he/she wouldn’t be in court—even after the judge has explained how the U.S. judicial system works for the 17th time.
Wear clothing described on the on-line jury FAQ as inappropriate, such as a halter-top or pajamas and fuzzy slippers.
Do your best impression of Pauly Shore from his immortal classic, Jury Duty.
Join the Army. (Warning: Deployment to Iraq may be worse than serving jury duty.)
Bring your knitting. Make sure the yarn is pink and the word “Defendant” is embroidered on your project.
Contract a debilitating medical disorder that will not allow you to sit in a courtroom for 2 hours at a time.
Plan a non-refundable vacation to Fiji for the day after the summons.
Say, “I don’t know why, but I just think he looks guilty.”
Declare that you have spiritual objections to passing judgment on another. Bring your Whole Foods bag and patchouli cologne. (Warning: It’s possible that the defense attorney may be hoping for a hung jury, and a contentious objector is the answer to his prayers.)
Remove your shoelace and tie it into a noose. Play with it.
Moan, whine and complain whenever the Judge or attorneys address you.
Don’t be Cursed Tongue.

Warning: these tips are for entertainment purposes only. Jury Duty is the civic duty of every American. Cursed Tongue and its affiliates are not responsible for any prosecution or fines resulting from evasion of jury duty. Also, Cursed Tongue is not responsible for actions of people who take jury duty seriously, therefore resent jury shirkers, and hunt them down with shanks made from jury badges, water bottles and courthouse cafeteria burgers.

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Bearing Witless, Part 1

2008-06-25T06:45:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Bearing Witless, Part 1

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Jury Selection

2008-05-22T17:10:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Adventures in Jurisimprudence: Jury Selection

Hello, Creepy Stranger!

2008-05-20T06:29:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Hello, Creepy Stranger!

Tall Hair Brings FLDS Closer to God

2008-05-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Tall Hair Brings FLDS Closer to God

Property Values Continue to Plummet

2008-01-18T11:14:00.000-08:00

The Gift of Get It Yourself

2007-11-16T06:31:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

The Gift of Get It Yourself

Sweet Obsession

2007-11-02T06:47:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Sweet Obsession

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

2007-10-26T05:56:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Extremely Wrongful Tantrum

2007-10-19T06:28:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Extremely Wrongful Tantrum

It's Not Us, It's Them

2007-10-11T16:44:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

It's Not Us, It's Them

Indisposed

2007-10-05T06:22:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Indisposed

Nanosense`

2007-09-28T06:49:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Nanosense

An Evil Laugh a Day, Makes the Children Run Away

2007-09-26T11:48:00.000-07:00

Hillary Clinton made a guest appearance on the latest episode of Fox News Sunday, and it seems that she has yet to fire the image coach that talked her into using a painfully contrived Southern accent when she spoke at a church in Selma, Alabama on Bloody Sunday.

The interview with Chris Wallace is peppered with manic, knee-slapping, inappropriately enthusiastic laughter. In another apparent bid to make herself more accessible, Clinton-bot began a few of the questions with forced, bone chilling laughter. The miracle of Botox makes her laugh even more disturbing.

It was a lot like another laugh I heard recently. It was at the Costco, and the laughter came from no mere mortal, but a possessed animatronic witch that defies the authority of the “off” switch.

Furthermore, I think we may have to call PETA in on this one, because I have a horrible feeling that her laughter was coerced by a dedicated campaign worker who was smashing in the heads of tiny marmalade kittens with a tack hammer. And I thought that if any party would stoop to murdering small animals to win an election, it would have been the Republicans.

I would like to suggest, rather than harming any more of god’s creatures, Clinton spend a month waiting tables at the Olive Garden, or picking apples, or actually working as a nurse. Honesty and Integrity don’t come from injections at a plastic surgeon’s office, nor can they be faked by laughing in a way that frightens small children.

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

Permanently Checked Out

2007-09-21T07:28:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Permanently Checked Out

Homeless to the Extreme

2007-09-14T05:45:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Homeless to the Extreme

Snookie's Avenger

2007-09-07T06:31:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Snookie's Avenger

Signs That You Might Be an Idiot Dog-Owner:

2007-09-06T18:27:00.000-07:00

You bought your dog at the mall.
You still feed your dog “wet” canned food.
You don’t know that there are dog seatbelt harnesses on the market.
You’ve never been to the ASPCA website to read their publication “A Poison Safe Home.”
Your dog is too stupid to be house trained.
You blame the dog for eating the paper plate covered in pizza grease that you left on your TV tray.
Your dog’s favorite activity is ripping up garbage bags so that your neighbors are constantly picking up tiny piece of gnawed black plastic that fly into their yards.
You don’t wash your dog’s bowls every day.
You let your dog poop anywhere and leave it as a monument to your thoughtless vulgarity.
You chose a dog of a particular breed because you thought it was “cute.”
You chose a Siberian Husky because you like the movie Snow Dogs.
You ever leave your dog crated without water.
You dog barks incessantly in the middle of the night and you don’t do anything about it.
The police come to your house because a neighbor was concerned about your dog being outside in 100-degree weather without any water.
You do two or more of the above and you’re thinking of getting a second dog.

I'd Like to Buy the World a Pure Cane Sugar Coke"

2007-08-31T06:34:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

"I'd Like to Buy the World a Pure Cane Sugar Coke"

This Is Not a Threat

2007-08-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

Doesn’t the Second Amendment Cover This?

2007-08-28T11:03:00.000-07:00

Oh the shame and humiliation of making the national news. I would rather some whackjob had tried to blow up the Chandler Home Depot again. But no. We have to face public humiliation for having the world’s dumbest school administrators. They work at Payne Junior High, which is part of Chandler Unified School District.

Last week a 13 year-old student of Payne Junior High was suspended for 5 days as the result of doodling a gun on an assignment. According to the school he violated their “No Tolerance” gun policy. Parents of the child spoke with administrators, who agreed to reduce the sentence to 3 days.

Paula Mosteller, mother of the child, cannot believe that her son was suspended for sketching a gun. She said, "I just can't believe that there wasn't another way to resolve this." Administrators have filed the sketch of the gun in her child’s Permanent Record. They would not release it, even for the ogling pleasure of public. They also declined to explain why the sketch was viewed as a threat.

My theory is that the Principal of Payne Junior High, who is ultimately responsible for the 3-day suspension, upon accepting her position stuffed a knitting needle up her nose and scrambled her brains until the resulting bloody gray goo ran out onto her sensible 1-inch pumps. That is the only possible explanation for absentmindedly handing down suspensions in the name of “No Tolerance.”

The school administration is not commenting on the story. There might be a piece of the missing puzzle. But why then, would administrators not have told the Mostellers, who appear to be baffled by the overreaction of the school to what can’t possibly be the first gun sketch to enter its hallowed halls.

If it were my kid, I’d have school administrators in court faster than they could say ACLU. Perfectly normal, nice children draw pictures of guns and tanks and Serbian Death Squads. These violent drawings are not indicative of a child’s intention to commit violence. They are indicative of a gun-obsessed culture and the highly impressionable nature of children.

Incidentally, the East Valley also contains the world’s dumbest news team. ABC affiliate, KNXV, told viewers that a child was suspended for “drawing a gun.” They neglected to add “on a piece of paper,” until about 30 seconds into the story.

A War by Any Other `Nam

2007-08-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

A War by Any Other `Nam

Barbie Frets Retail Sag, China Holds the Bag

2007-08-17T10:01:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Barbie Frets Retail Sag, China Holds the Bag

Formula, With a Side Order of Neural Damage

2007-08-03T08:07:00.001-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Formula, With a Side Order of Neural Damage

Humidity Bites

2007-08-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Humidity Bites

If You Really Loved Those Cats, They'd Live In Your House

2007-07-31T16:41:00.000-07:00

Gratuitous Fortification

2007-07-27T06:18:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Gratuitous Fortification

Special Offer for You!

2007-07-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

Short Shrift Grift

2007-07-20T08:59:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Short Shrift Grift

Dying of Consumption

2007-07-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Dying of Consumption

Cruel Summer

2007-07-06T08:38:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Cruel Summer

Barenaked Bridesmaid

2007-06-29T08:06:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Barenaked Bridesmaid

After My Vacation

2007-06-25T16:52:00.000-07:00

Rich Mouse, Poor Mouse

2007-06-08T06:34:00.000-07:00

When I moved to Chandler, I was surprised by the diversity of the neighborhoods. There are palatial mansions within a few blocks of dumpy trailer parks. The impoverished pockets of tiny, poorly insulated houses and sad discount stores are a glaring contrast to the gated subdivisions and posh strip malls.

Chandler’s proximity to Phoenix made it attractive to a lot of people during the housing boom in the Valley. The economically challenged were here when the financially enhanced showed up. There doesn’t seem to be any noise about weeding out trailer parks and scaring discount grocery stores and cash advance businesses out of town. Or if there is, it can’t be heard above the shouts to keep out a chemical company that employs animal testing or the demands to keep a waste transfer station from being built next to a public park.

On the other side of the Valley, plans to build a transitional housing facility are provoking objections from local residents. The Phoenix City Council approved plans for the Southwest Leadership Foundation’s proposed transitional housing to assist homeless families in acquiring employment and establishing a residence. In an area already beleaguered by crime, residents worry that the influx of poor single mothers and their children will increase problems.

Similarly disinclined to sharing the neighborhood with those struggling to make a living, Disneyland is suing Anaheim over a proposed complex of subsidized apartments. Disney pays hundreds of park employees so little that the majority of them must commute, because they can’t afford to live in Anaheim. Disney has set their attack lawyers on the city to stop the development that would certainly benefit some of their so-called “cast members.” They claim that any housing development would be inappropriate for the area, which had to be rezoned. It used to be zoned for tourism-related business.

The contested area adjoins property that Disney owns and plans to build its third Anaheim attraction on. Apparently, the poor are good enough to go through the service entrance to operate park rides, assemble chilidogs and scrape gum off the sidewalk. But they are not good enough to be neighbors. Heaven forbid someone who spends the day wearing a 60-pound mouse costume in the relentless California sun should have a short commute.

In related news regarding disdain for the socioeconomic underclass, early Thursday morning Paris Hilton was released from prison and allowed to finish the remainder of her sentence under house arrest, due to an undisclosed medical condition. Because there are plenty of people with serious medical conditions in jail, my money is on a rare and debilitating allergy to poor people.

Despite a theoretical increase in crime or a possible allergic reaction, I would trade subsided housing for a waste transfer station as a neighbor faster than a celebrity heiress can say “Ankle bracelet.” These examples of shunning the fiscally depleted and the residentially challenged and deficient are stifling the very efforts meant to give them a boost. The attitude that the homeless and those living below the poverty line will go away if you don’t feed them is about as insightful and realistic as trying to keep illegal immigrants out of the U.S. with 2,000 miles of steel fence. Especially when we could easily get rid of poor neighbors by helping them prosper.

Too Much Blush, Gush and Slush, Not Enough Spidey Crush

2007-06-01T05:54:00.000-07:00

Over the Memorial Day weekend we went to see a movie for the first time in a long time. The only reason for me to ever venture into a movie theater is to see an action film in its entire ginormous screen, stadium-seating glory. (I’m still kicking myself for missing out on the larger than life cow spinning out of control in Twister.)

At the ticket window, we were asked why we wanted to see Spider-Man, because it wasn’t popular anymore. Being anti-social and obviously defective, I prefer to see the slightly stale flicks. It sure beats having to sit next to a strange, squirming 4 year-old. (By strange, I mean a 4 year-old child of a person with whom I am unacquainted and who didn’t care enough about their offspring to pony up cash for a babysitter.) We wanted to see Spider-Man in the theater, because we were under the impression that there would be a lot of action and many elaborate computer generated effects. We were correct on one account.

My embarrassing confession for the day is that I am missing the gene, which seems to be common in females, that makes fight scenes and violence in movies repulsive. For example, I enjoy Star Trek films. Not so much for the Sci Fi nerdy glory of the franchise. But more for the frequency of good, old-fashioned ass-kickings. They have phasers (ray guns), force shields and beaming technology. It’s absolutely ridiculous how often the action comes down to fisticuffs. And I love it.

There is a time and place for kissy googoo sentimental slush. The time and place is not in the middle of an action flick that I just paid $7 to see. The two previous Spider-Man movies, and the trailer for the current movie, led me to believe that Spider-Man 3 would be an action movie and not a sappy date flick with $250 million worth of special effects. This is why I have no compunction about sneaking Jujy Fruits into the theater.

It was bad enough that I had to put up with the wretch-inducing presence of Kirsten Dunst, as Spidey main squeeze Mary Jane. It’s great that she’s carrying on the banner of vapid comic book heroine from Margot Kidder, but by the end of Spider-Man 3 I was kind of hoping Spidey wouldn’t get there in the nick of time. To make matters worse, she sings, not once but twice. A voice so nasal and grating, it had to be hers. Critics theorized that her agent must have stipulated that she get two songs in the film. There is no godly reason that audiences should have been subjected to the tortuous tunes otherwise.

I don’t know where it was, but Tobey Maguire’s heart just wasn’t in the movie. He should be thoroughly embarrassed that he was upstaged by the actor who got his start on That 70’s Show. (Topher Grace, as Venom, was the most engaging character in the whole movie.) Either that, or Maguire should have worn a tee shirt that said, “I’d rather be riding a zombie horse in Seabiscuit IV.” At the very least he owed his fans an explanation.

I don’t recommend seeing the Spidey 3, but I’ll try not to spoil the movie for those of you who haven’t already seen it, and choose not to believe me. Harry, Peter Parker’s estranged best friend, gets knocked on the head and conveniently forgets that he thinks Spiderman and thus Peter killed his father. Harry and Peter get manicures, talk about boys and then drink Chocolate-tinis. There’s touching, hugging and crying. I don’t have a problem with the new direction their relationship has taken, but it’s not the movie I chose to see.

Between the singing, the crying and the lack of enthusiasm by most of the main players, I’m beginning to think that instead of releasing films, Hollywood is testing our capacity for suffering. How many times can Tinsel Town ingest box office hits, churn them through its unimaginative digestive system, forcing sequels out through the colon of product placement and merchandising onto an uncomplaining public?

Things Spider-Man 3 Had Too Much of

2007-05-31T15:52:00.001-07:00

Maudlin sentimentality
Greasy hair
Crying
Spidey sans mask
Flashbacks (33% new footage)
Kirsten Dunst singing
Kirsten Dunst
Ending teases

Things Spider-Man 3 Lacked or Had Too Little of

2007-05-31T15:41:00.000-07:00

Ass-whooping
Actors who appeared to have bathed recently
Acting
Characters who didn’t know Spider-Man was Peter Parker
Horribly violent death of Mary Jane

Foreign Policy Flunky

2007-05-25T07:04:00.000-07:00

Foreign Policy Flunky

Monday morning was going to be good. My husband called from the bedroom that former President Jimmy Carter said the Bush administration was “the worst in history.” Finally, someone with cojones and political influence standing up to President Bush and his merry band of baloney-spewing bullies.

A White House spokesman deemed Carter, "increasingly irrelevant with these kinds of comments." I must give the Bush administration kudos for coming up with an insult better than un-American. But I think it would be hard to find someone who pays attention to the political sphere that would agree with them. I think Carter is more relevant now than when he was President. So did the Nobel Peace Prize committee.

My admiration of Jimmy Carter soared. And I was feeling better about life in general. That was before Carter had his interview on the Today show later that morning. That was before the 82 year-old Carter changed his mind so fast, it’s a wonder he didn’t snap his spine. He said he was comparing the foreign policy of President Bush with that of President Nixon. He did not intend to compare the Bush administration with U. S. administrations throughout history, on everything.

I will concede that President Bush couldn’t possibly be the worst President in the history of the United States in every arena. I’m sure he is the best at driving under the influence. The best at refusing to support stem cell research because it would take a long time before people would benefit. I’m sure he’s very good at hiring based on political affiliation. Certainly, he is the best at pretending to be a Texan.

Meredith Vieira of the Today show asked Carter if he was saying his remarks were careless and reckless. (He had used the word careless. He did not use the word reckless.) She then asked him, “Do you believe, sir, that as a former President, it’s appropriate to criticize the President, particularly during a time of war?” When a mere 6 or 7 years ago some inhabitants of the political sphere were incensed over President Clinton’s love life, it’s unbelievable that President Bush is subject to so little verbal abuse. Lying about a dalliance with a subordinate seems such a trifle compared to the diarrhea of lies that come out of Bush’s mouth.

Vieira seemed combative and talked over former President Carter a few times, culminating in a moment of awkward dead air, when he might have been wondering why they’d invited him on the talk show if they weren’t going to let him say anything. I had to glance at the annoying, ever-present logo at the lower right hand corner of the screen to be sure I was watching NBC and had not unwittingly stumbled onto FOX News. It makes me wonder what the Bush administration has on members of Congress, and on the forthright people working for the communications industry. I think it could be the threat of releasing the DC Madam’s 46 pounds of phone records. (Who knew that Vieira was a fan of happy endings?)

While I ponder why Bush has not been unceremoniously tossed out of the White House for being “the worst in history,” at least I can take solace in the fact that the media took interest in a verbal brawl that didn’t involve a bouffanted billionaire buffoon and a loudmouth comedian that gets her facts from e-mail forwards.

Advanced Communication Technology and the Proliferation of Stupid

2007-05-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I’m in Kohl’s bra shopping. Bra shopping is more fun than shearing a herd of crazed Alpacas. That’s why I went in the morning, when I though the store would be relatively deserted and quiet. It was. Until about fifteen minutes in. Enter a woman on her phone with two small children in tow.

The children are arguing loudly about whether one of them is a poopybutt. The woman is calling her friend, and browsing lingerie. The squalls and squeals build. The mother threatens their visit to the toy section. This has little or no effect. The argument devolves into pinching and hair pulling, as their mother is now talking to their father, who apparently didn’t wasn’t reimbursed for moving expenses.

Being able to pay off your credit card debt is important, but the children didn’t want toys or emotional scars from sibling domestic violence. They wanted their mother’s attention. Or a portable DVD player. For god’s sake lady, just plop them down with Blue’s Clues, Lion King, or the new foreign import Baby Brainwashing Pacifier Good Time Dance Party.

It's imperative for our country to require every 3 and 4 year old child to attend preschool. The children are the future. Do you really want small children, under the care of neglectful parents, annoying mentally unstable bra shoppers?

We also need harsh punishment for doctor visits during school hours. The other day I walk into my dentist’s office about ten minutes early for my appointment. There’s a man leaning over the counter as if completely exhausted by the strain of his tiresome day, and it’s not even 9am. The reasons for his fatigue are slouching, whining and squirming. Impatient, when really they should be enjoying their freedom from state sponsored indoctrination. They are teenagers. And the man I can only assume is their dad tells them to sit, stay! The male, appearing to be about 15 complies. A whoosh of air deflates the overstuffed leather chair in the waiting room. He looks pretty content to be at a state of rest. His sister, appearing to be about 13, likewise flops onto a chair.

But then she’s sitting up. Asking about something pressing and urgent. “Dad, can we go now?” Then she’s standing. Doing a little impatient teenager dance. Her dad is trying to have a “grown up” conversation. He waves a hand at her, an instruction to go back from whence she came and be quiet. He is setting up appointments with the receptionist.

I sign the sign-in sheet and hear a greeting. I nod, but don’t look up. I’m trying to remember which Dentist I have an appointment with, and watching the antsy pants dance out of the corner of my eye. I sit on the other leather couch. Pull out my PDA. And pretend to play solitaire.

The dad warns the girl again to sit down again. She inches back towards the sofa, but remains standing. And then a terrible crunchy clattery noise, the sound of heavy, expensive item wrapped in plastic hitting tile flooring interrupts the drone of “grown up” conversation. The man winces. He does not have to look to know that his daughter has dropped her Motorola RAZR for the umpteenth time. “Whoops!” The young woman flinches as if preparing for a fatherly blow to the head. She picks up the phone and slinks back to the leather couch.

It was not long after that the man and his draining children leave. I do enjoy a good show, but now I soak up the quiet of low-level office rumble and dental office rock. My appointment is at 9, but I’m not too worried when the time is five after, and I haven’t been called back. The sound of the receptionist and the scheduler making confirmation phone calls fills the waiting room.

Then I hear, in full phone voice, “Hi, Sarah? This is Cindy from Dr. Warner’s office calling to remind you about your 9am appointment. I’m sure that you’re on your way. Good bye.” I realize that Cindy has called me, at home. When I am obviously sitting in the dentist’s office. I walk up to the counter. Cindy has risen also and this time she notices my presence in the room. “Oh, you’re here.”

That’s what I get for using the quiet mode for my game of solitaire. And what I deserve for not bringing a pair of surly, bored teenagers with no respect for delicate electronics with me.

Dear Drunken Celebrity Driver,

2007-05-11T06:17:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Dear Drunken Celebrity Driver,

Further Proof the Critics are Full of Crap

2007-05-04T05:35:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Further Proof the Critics are Full of Crap

Gliese 581c: Great Starter Planet

2007-04-27T06:00:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Gliese 581c: Great Starter Planet

Missing the Buzz

2007-04-20T05:57:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Missing the Buzz

The Wheezy City

2007-04-13T07:12:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

The Wheezy City

"Yo, Adrian! It's me, Cholesterol.

2007-04-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

"Yo, Adrian! It's me, Cholesterol."

Short Order Cook to a Dog

2007-03-30T06:32:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Short Order Cook to a Dog

Terrorist's Calendar

2007-03-28T11:18:00.000-07:00

President Bush, aka The Decider, claims that terrorists will mark their calendars if Congress passes a law giving a specific date for troop withdrawal. A Cursed Tongue exclusive, we have access to Osama Bin Laden’s personal day planner. As you can see, every day is a good day to bring “Death to America.” I have trouble believing that troop withdrawal will increase the danger to the U.S.A. (Besides which, it would be my guess that Al’Queda would throw a party complete with camel rides and a bouncy casbah if we left.)

Of course, in the same speech Bush called himself a conservationist. Which is kind of like someone claiming to be a vegan and then eating Jell-o. At this point I assume that pretty much everything out of his mouth is steaming cow flop. Members of the Cattlemen’s Beef Association to whom he gave the speech earlier today were un-phased by the copious amount bovine prairie pies served up by the President.

Signless Spring

2007-03-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Signless Spring

Smoke Free, Choke Free

2007-03-16T07:42:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Smoke Free, Choke Free

Cursed Tongue Guide to Surviving a Toaster Oven Fire

2007-03-14T16:22:00.000-07:00

The key to surviving a toaster oven fire is to be prepared for disaster. Every house/apartment/meth lab should have a fire extinguisher rated for flammable liquid fires, and electrical fires.

Don’t be surprised that your smoke alarm didn’t go off when the kitchen is full of smoke just because it goes off every time you make toast
Don’t Panic
Don’t open the toaster oven door
Don’t pour water on the fire
Don’t pour Windex on the fire
Don’t drive to the Wal-Mart

Unplug the toaster oven
Get the fire extinguisher
Read the instructions on the extinguisher, which you should have read before you went anywhere near the toaster oven
Point the fire extinguisher at the toaster oven
Follow the instructions on your fire extinguisher
If the toaster oven has stopped burning skip to step 9
If there are still flames licking the toaster oven, call the fire department
Leave the area, wait for fire department
Spend five hours cursing yourself for not setting the timer while you clean up the fine potassium bicarbonate powder off of every surface in your kitchen, including ones you didn’t even realize you had
Open windows to air out the space
Place bowls filled with vinegar on the counters to mitigate the smell of smoke
Now you can drive to Wal-Mart for a new toaster oven and fire extinguisher

Toasted

2007-03-12T15:21:00.000-07:00

On March 9th a Chandler man drove to a nearby Wal-Mart to purchase a fire extinguisher because his toaster oven was on fire. The man set his toaster oven on fire while drying the Methamphetamines he was manufacturing.

The man attempted to douse the flames with water and was unsuccessful. Presumably the 19 year-old did not want to bring the authorities in the matter, as he was whipping up a batch of Meth and also in possession of marijuana.

While the man was absent from his endangered condo the sprinkler system was triggered and stifled the flames. Altering the authorities to the fire, and making him the lucky winner of a fabulous vacation in a concrete cell without a view, courtesy of Maricopa County.

Part of the punishment for crimes like this one should be sterilization. This man shouldn’t be responsible for the care of a Chia Pet let alone a human being.

Tune in Wednesday for a special Cursed Tongue Guide to Surviving a Toaster Oven Fire.

Post Traumatic Scandal Disorder

2007-03-09T06:43:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Post Traumatic Scandal Disorder

A Tale of Two Accents

2007-03-06T14:07:00.000-08:00

To commemorate “Bloody Sunday,” and compete for black voters both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama spoke at churches in Selma, Alabama.

In her speech Hillary Clinton affected a horribly butchered Southern accent. It was so bad, I was surprised when I saw the visual records of her speech she was wearing a real belt instead of a rope, and she was not chewing on a stalk of wheat. She wasn’t even carrying a brown jug with Xs painted on it. Listen for yourself if you think I’m crazy. Her accent was really that bad.

Now, I don’t have any qualms telling Britney Spears she needs a better publicist. If there’s something at which Spears excels it is creating situations that are cries for help. And therefore, she was practically begged for my advice. But Clinton, a lawyer, a politician, a capable woman who was co-President for eight years, a woman who managed to raise a daughter who isn’t an out-of-control mental. I feel uncomfortable advising her. But if she’s going to insist on acting down-homey, and accessible she needs to add a drama coach to her entourage.

It couldn’t possibly be that she fell into a Southern accent because she used to have one. She was born and raised in a rich suburb of Chicago, Illinois. She went on to college in Massachusetts, not moving to Arkansas until she was 26 or 27, far past her formative years.

Barack Obama also adopted a Southern accent during his speech. Even though he was born Honolulu, Hawaii, and lived there and in Jakarta until college. (I’ve never been to Jakarta, but I’m reasonably certain that chances are slim that he picked up a Southern accent there.) Not that I excuse him from being a Faky Fakerton, but he affected his Southern accent with a much lighter hand.

Clinton’s twang faded in and out and was downright insulting, and I’m not even from the South. I’m sure Clinton didn’t mean to offend Southern voters by butchering a Southern accent. I’m sure it was a misstep, a miscalculation.

She must have figured that talking like an idiot worked for George W. Bush, so it could work for her. Hooked on Phonics may have worked for Bush, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right method for teaching people with a fully functioning brain to read.

Just What Pat Roberston Always Wanted

2007-03-05T14:41:00.000-08:00

Okay, you’re going to hate me. But I’m working on my Christmas shopping. If you’re reading this and you’re on my Christmas list, of course I buy your gift in November so it will be fresh. (Although, if I was to buy you a Christmas present in March, it should be flattering to think that I am confident that I will still like you by December.)

I found the perfect gift for Pat Robertson. Now, normally he wouldn’t be on my list, but you know when you find the perfect thing for someone you know, and you just have to buy it for them? I know I probably just lost my male audience, which I believe to be considerable, but please just humor me and nod. I knew you could!

It’s The Human Evolution Coloring Book, and the connection between humans and our closest living primate relatives couldn’t be more clearly explained.

Planned Oblivion

2007-03-02T06:40:00.000-08:00

The greedy ratfinks at Intuit are retiring Quicken 2004. They slapped me in the face with this revelation, not by telling me about it via e-mail, even though they could have. I found out when I tried to download my financial information into another wondrous, magical Intuit product, Turbo Tax.

Then last week, I attempted to download cleared charges from my bank and got a dire pop-up warning from Intuit. A death-knell for my current version of Quicken. On the 30th of April Intuit will no longer support Quicken 2004. By “no longer support” they mean that I will be unable to download cleared charges from my bank. “No longer supporting” software used to mean that users wouldn’t be able to phone a call center in Bangalore and talk to someone named “David” or “Cindy,” who was obviously not American because he or she would be polite. No offence to “David” and “Cindy,” but I could have lived with customer service silence.

Now it means that Intuit will cut off the financial information download function of software I legally purchased from them a mere three years ago like a gangrenous limb. Only the limb isn’t gangrenous. The limb is working just fine thank you very much. Without the limb, I’ll have to get off my lazy butt and enter receipts—oh so many receipts. Intuit would have been better off taking a more honest route and making the cut-off date April Fool’s day. I think they call this kind of money-grubbing “planned obsolescence.”

I’m resistant to spending $50 or more on a new and improved version of Quicken, not only because I feel they have me by the slide rule, but also because I have upgraded before. Each subsequent “improvement” of Quicken has taken more space on my hard drive, tripled the number of absolutely useless features, and contained 33% more nagging to purchase other Intuit products and services.

It would stand to reason that fiscal concerns have prompted mutilation of the toddler Quicken 2004. (He never even made it into Kindergarten.) But it seems that picking the pockets of loyal customers is no way to win friends and influence people. Profits for the Intuit are down 20% this last quarter. Despite the fact that it’s tax season and they have a justifiably annual taxing product. What with the rising cost of services at H&R Block, Intuit must really be falling down on the job.

If you have any doubts that the “deciders” at Intuit are completely out of touch with anything resembling reality, I urge you to visit Intuit Tax Rap, a place where Vanilla Ice (obviously using software instead of a CPA or an agent) invites people to submit a tax rap. (It's so stupid, it hurts. Just like Fox News.) They neglect to mention whether the measly grand prize is $25,000 before or after taxes. But it’s probably wise of them to save their money for the class-action suit.

The sad part is that the other big choices for financial and tax software is Microsoft Money and TaxCut. I need another piece of Microsoft software like I need another scary blue screen error. And according to a customer review, versions of Microsoft Money only let users download for 2 years. So it seems I can blame Bill Gates propagating for yet another software swindle. It’s a good thing that Amazon sells used versions of Quicken.

Chalking

2007-02-22T11:44:00.000-08:00

DRM, Drugs and Rock and Roll

2007-02-16T06:00:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

DRM, Drugs and Rock and Roll

What To Do If You Bought Your Wife a Retractable Laptop Mouse at the Intel Gift Shop Yesterday

2007-02-15T11:32:00.000-08:00

You messed up big time. Yesterday, you realized, by the talk about restaurant reservations what day it was. Valentine’s Day. Some inexplicably unromantic part of your male brain told you it was a good idea to go to the gift shop that happens to be in the building where you work

You get there and see that the Valentine’s merchandise has been picked over. There is a singing, dancing gorilla that doesn’t do anything when you press the button, a couple of cards that say “Happy Valentine’s Day, Grandmother,” and the usual Intel paraphernalia and office supplies. Maybe it’s Valentine’s panic that inflicts you with temporary idiocy. You know you’re in trouble, and you could still stop at Target for slippers, but for some reason you think it’s a good idea to buy a retractable laptop mouse.

Your wife has a laptop. She would love a retractable mouse to go with it. I’m sure she practically swooned when she peered into the plastic shopping bag to reveal a treasure trove of cheap electronics. The disappointed look on her face makes you think that you should have gone with the broken love monkey. But what you should have done was spend some time thinking of a thoughtful gift.

It is not punishment enough that you slept on the couch last night. You will most definitely be getting the silent treatment from anywhere to 24 to the next 72 hours.

Your wife will never forget that you couldn’t even be bothered to stop at the grocery store for roses that would expire within 12 hours of being charged to your Visa, you big spender, you. You’ve created ammunition for your wife in arguments for years to come. You will have forgotten all about this Valentine’s Day and will find yourself in an argument where she claims you don’t pay enough attention to her, and she will pull the story of the time you went to the company gift shop to get her a Valentine’s present.

Then she’ll bring up the year you brought home Valentine’s wiper blades. And you think she’s done, but she brings up that teddy you bought her that was not only something you saw in a Britney Spears video, but also two sizes too large. By now you’re singing the Meow Mix theme song in your head, because you just can’t take it anymore.

Save yourself from a laundry list of horribly thoughtless gifts. You could have gotten a CD from a favorite band, a book from a favorite author. You could have schlepped to the mall and bought her a box of See’s candy. But it’s too late now. You’re in for make-up jewelry, and it better not be Wal-mart jewelry.

Wal-Mart Singles Out Romantic Fat Bastards

2007-02-12T16:24:00.000-08:00

Wal-Mart compiled a list of the Most and Least Romantic States. The rankings were based on sales of chocolate, diamonds, and roses. (Nothing says "I'll love you forever" like Wal-Mart diamonds.) The "Top 10 Romantic Chocolate States" is strikingly similar to the "Top 10 Obese States" list. Which means the residents of said states aren't more romantic, just more likely to need really big pants.

Top 10 Romantic Chocolate Sales

1. Mississippi
2. Louisiana
3. North Carolina
4. South Carolina
5. Alabama
6. Virginia
7. Georgia
8. Kentucky
9. Montana
10. Tennessee

Top 10 Most Obese States

1. Mississippi
2. Alabama
3. West Virginia
4. Louisiana
5. Kentucky
6. Tennessee
7. Arkansas
8. Indiana (Tied)
8. South Carolina (Tied)
10. Texas

States that Didn’t Buy Enough Wal-Mart Chocolate

41. Rhode Island
42. Minnesota
43. Utah
44. Pennsylvania
45. Iowa
46. Ohio
47. Michigan
48. Illinois
49. Wisconsin
50. Hawaii

Least Obese States

41. Nevada
42. Utah
43. Arizona
44. Montana
45. Connecticut
46. Vermont
47. Arkansas
48. Rhode Island
49. Hawaii
50. Colorado

NOTE: The rankings on obesity are from a report, F as in Fat: How Obesity Policies are Failing in America 2006, by Trust for America’s Health, a non-profit organization that wants to improve the health of Americans.

I Need Some Space

2007-02-09T06:38:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

I Need Some Space

Dear Neighbor,

2007-02-08T15:45:00.000-08:00

Flush Fund

2007-02-02T05:17:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Flush Fund

Boston Emboldens Terrorists by Kicking Capitalism in the Nuts

2007-02-01T15:58:00.000-08:00

Plastic boards covered with Light-emitting Diodes, or LEDs, powered by four D batteries, were scattered across several cities as part of an ad campaign for the upcoming Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie. The lights were arranged in such a fashion as to depict Mooninites, characters from the Aqua Teen Hunger Force cartoon.

Boston Emergency Service workers apparently responded to concerned “old people,” who noticed the signs, after they had been in place for 3 weeks without causing any problems. The signs were blinking in what this columnist can only assume was a frightening manner. Coincidentally, a couple of fake pipe bombs were found in Boston on the same day as the ad campaign became a concern to police.

The pipe bombs were not placed by a mischievous, self-centered, talking cup called Milkshake. Nor were they place by the cutting edge ad agency that apparently devised the concept of blinking advertisements, because Bostonians reacted as if they had never before seen such a thing. Similar guerilla advertising schemes, with the plastic boards, were launched in Chicago, San Francisco, New York, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Seattle, Portland, Austin, and Philadelphia without causing massive bridge, road or waterway shutdowns.

Boston Mayor, Thomas Menino, said, "It is outrageous, in a post 9/11 world, that a company would use this type of marketing scheme. I am prepared to take any and all legal action against Turner Broadcasting and its affiliates for any and all expenses incurred during the response to today's incidents."

When an act of pure and harmless capitalism gets the Turner Broadcasting System into legal trouble, the terrorists have won.

Instead of charging the manufacturer of the fake pipe bombs for the disruption of the morning commute, Boston charged the mooks hired by an advertising company to install the signs. I don’t really like advertisers, either, but I don’t think they deserved to go to jail for signs that look about as dangerous as Lite-Brite(R). They expect Turner Broadcasting Systems to pay for the safety measures taken by Boston Emergency Services to protect its citizenry from the scary marketing ploy.

And now City of Chicago Supt. Philip Cline is sniffing around for compensation, because their Police Officers were ordered to remove 20 signs, although it was well known that they were harmless by the time they did so (and, again, these signs had been installed for at least 2 weeks). After this news hit the fan, people probably would have collected the signs and attempted to sell the on eBay, making the removal by city employees nonsensical.

Ted Turner Almighty, Creator of 24-Hour News Networks

2007-01-26T05:58:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Ted Turner Almighty, Creator of 24-Hour News Networks

Cloudy, with a Chance of Apocalypse

2007-01-19T06:24:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Cloudy, with a Chance of Apocalypse

Cross into the Nude

2007-01-15T09:49:00.000-08:00

USAF Drill Sergeant Michelle Manhart was relieved of duty, pending investigation, for giving new meaning to her job title.

Manhart, a Staff Sergeant with 13 years in the Air Force, apparently exercising the freedoms she joined the military to fight for, posed in Playboy, nude and semi-nude, with and without her dog tags.

You can be all you can be, unless you happen to be gay or naked.

I certainly don’t begrudge USAF’s investigation of the February issue of Playboy. I hope they look beyond Manhart’s life-long dream of posing in the premier nudie magazine, and decide that they need her expertise as a grinder of young souls, which are needed to bake the bread of democracy. Especially what with President Bush sending a surge of finely ground military forces into Iraq. Notwithstanding that a 15% increase in troops is really more of a dribble than a surge.

If every solder whose actions did not “comply with the Air Force's core values of integrity,” was relieved of duty, we’d have a ludicrously understaffed military, instead of just a ridiculously understaffed one.

America is beautiful place. A country where women and men can earn money for being photographed in their birthday suits. And I can’t help but think that we wouldn’t be having this conversation if we changed Michelle to Michael, and Playboy to Playgirl.

If USAF kicks Manhart out on her exposed derriere, the terrorist will have won.

iPhones: The Next Terror of the Freeway

2007-01-12T06:00:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

iPhones: The Next Terror of the Freeway

Early Valentine

2007-01-09T21:23:00.000-08:00

Indiana Bones

2007-01-05T06:23:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Indiana Bones

Motherly Advice

2006-12-29T13:36:00.000-08:00

This weekend I have a baby shower to attend. There's nothing I love more than dressing up and being in a room 90% full of complete strangers. The best part is eating refreshments in front of said complete strangers, while trying to conceal the fact that I am a complete slob.

One of the activities at the shower will be creating a scrapbook page with motherly advice. I decided to create a few practice pages in advance, in hopes of cutting down on the "What's taking that idiotic slob so long?" embarrassment. And I have found out that I have absolutely no motherly advice, being only a wife, and therefore merely "playing house" as one gracious, lovely Aunt put it.

I do, however, have plenty of questionable advice:

Media Wars: Episode II - Attack on the Consumer

2006-12-22T06:33:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Media Wars: Episode II - Attack on the Consumer

All Lit Up

2006-12-15T06:06:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

All Lit Up

Let Them Eat Twinkies

2006-12-08T06:47:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Let Them Eat Twinkies

All Drecked Out

2006-12-01T10:34:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

All Drecked Out

Gone to Heel

2006-11-24T06:03:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Gone to Heel

2006 Worst Toys List

Aiken for Manners

2006-11-22T21:45:00.000-08:00

Kelly Ripa is one of those celebrities that gives me hives. It could be her unrelenting perkiness, her child-like buoyancy or the myriad of “blond” moments she wanders into. But it is certainly not her prejudices that bother me. Earlier this week on Regis and Kelly, Ripa co-hosted the show with guest host Clay Aiken. (In the interest of full disclosure, Aiken also gives me hives.)

While they were doing a meaningful and in-depth interview with the winners of “Dancing with the Stars,” Aiken felt left out of the conversation while the loquacious Kelly Ripa plowed through the questions on her index card. He covered her mouth with his hand to shut her up. “Oh, that's a no-no,” Ripa said, “I don't know where that hand's been, honey.”

I haven’t touched the door to a public restroom with my bare hands for about three years. I posses a rubber Purell cozy that attaches my mini bottle of Purell to a case I nearly always stow in the car when I go out. Regardless of color, socioeconomic status, or gender, I really don’t like being touched in general. It never occurred to me that germiness could be based on sexual orientation.

Apparently, it occurred to Rosie O’Donnell, a vocal advocate for gay rights, who accused Kelly Ripa of homophobia. O’Donnell said on The View, "To me, that's a homophobic remark," Rosie said. "If that was a straight man, if that was a cute man. If that was a guy who she didn't question his sexuality, she would've said a different thing."

Nevermind the fact that Clay Aiken repeatedly insists that his sexuality is not up for discussion. Nevermind the fact that he disrespected Kelly Ripa by covering her mouth. Something he most assuredly would never have done to Regis, or any other man. O’Donnell remarked that it was odd that Ripa would have said “I don't know where that hand's been,” but that’s exactly what I would have said if someone I was acquainted with put his over my mouth. Right after I asked said imaginary ill-mannered acquaintance what the Hell he thought he was doing. It seems like a sexist thing on the part of Aiken, not a homophobic thing on the part of Ripa.

There has been debate that by accusing Kelly Ripa of being homophobic, that O’Donnell has outed Clay Aiken. But I think she really outed her unhygienic lifestyle, and her eagerness to erupt in outrage over her erroneous perception of bigotry. Hopefully Barbara Walters will remind her that it’s The View, not My Delusional View.

Bling Bling, Frankincense and Myrrh

2006-11-17T05:52:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Bling Bling, Frankincense and Myrrh

Love That New Baby Spit-up Smell

2006-11-10T06:07:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Love That New Baby Spit-up Smell

Choose the Real Shocker

2006-11-09T08:02:00.000-08:00

Neil Patrick Harris comes out.
Second SPF baby doesn't save marriage of Britney Spears and KFed.
Donald Rumsfeld resigns.

Safe or Sorry

2006-11-03T06:57:00.000-08:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Safe or Sorry

Revenge of the Cursed Agave

2006-10-27T06:53:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Revenge of the Cursed Agave

Saint Bleedingheart of Tinseltown

2006-10-20T06:29:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Saint Bleedingheart of Tinseltown

Spanking Good Advice

2006-10-13T06:31:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Spanking Good Advice

My Not-So-Funny Valentine

2006-10-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

Finally, I have an understanding of Barbara Streisand and her, so she describes it “art.” Yesterday after an apparently uncomfortably long, pun-filled, mildly humorous skit between Streisand and a bumbling Bush impersonator, one audience heckler was fed up and expressed his/her feelings by shouting them. Streisand replied by screaming, "Shut the (expletive deleted) up! Shut up if you can't take a joke!" To which the baffled heckler replied, “That was a joke?”

Her outburst effectively stopped further complaints from the fan who paid at least $250, evidently expecting singing without interruption by amateurish politically charged comedy skits. Streisand apologized for erupting like Dick Cheney on the floor of the Senate, and commented that, "the artist's role is to disturb."

Upon reading about the incident I had an Oprah “light bulb” moment of momentous proportions. I now understand Streisand’s “art,” because I’ve always been deeply disturbed by her music.

A diva loosing her cool on stage may seem to be an inconsequential tidbit in the scheme of things, but I’m certain it is only the first F-Bomb to be deployed in the current battle between Democrats and Republicans to seriously harm the mental health of the American Citizenry (and the Citizenship Challenged) in the carnage of the upcoming November elections. Score one for Liberals.

The Lonely Wonelies

2006-09-22T06:25:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

The Lonely Wonelies

Clutter, Clutter, Boil and Butter

2006-09-15T07:13:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Clutter, Clutter, Boil and Butter

Bank Wankers

2006-09-08T06:50:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Bank Wankers

Waiting Rooms: The Fifth Ring of Hell

2006-09-01T06:47:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Waiting Rooms:
The Fifth Ring of Hell

Liberal Load

2006-08-25T06:15:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Liberal Load

Cursed Tongue Guide to Divining Movie Suckage

2006-08-21T11:56:00.000-07:00

You really don’t need a Magic 8 Ball and Ouji board to contact Gene Siskel to predict movie suckage. All you need to separate the theatrical wheat from the schlock is this handy list of questions, and a movie trailer. Also, it probably helps if you already know that WWE Raw is make-believe.

Are the blurbs in the trailer:

From magazines that don’t exist?
From Wireless magazine?
From KSUX Small Time Local Affiliate in Podunk, ID?
One word? (The critic could have said “Fantastic flop,” which becomes “Fantastic!” in the hands of advertisers.)
Invaded by ellipses?
Punctuated with multiple exclamation points? (Serious news outlets frown on the use of any exclamation point, multiple points are for 12 year-old-girls and movie advertisers. If an Ebert quote contains an exclamation point, you can rest assured that advertisers inserted it.)

Does the movie trailer:

Consist of a hypnotic jumble of flashing scenes that leave you feeling like you were just subliminally punked?
Make as much sense as Tom Cruise being heterosexual?
Contain interviews from the actors about how great the movie is?
Contain interviews from people on the street, who obviously walked out of the theater dazed from viewing 90 minutes of a movie so horrible it amounts to emotional torture? (Movie night in Gitmo features classic Rob Schneider, or Pauly Shore flicks. Don’t tell me that kind of torture isn’t covered by the Geneva Convention.)
Tout the film as “The best movie of the year,” and it is January?
Tout the film as the “Most popular comedy/drama/PowerPoint presentation of the summer,” and it is May?
Compare the movie to a good movie? (“It’s as magical as the Wizard of Oz.” And the film stars CG robotic cows.)
Describe the film as Movie X meets Movie Y? (It’s Sound of Music meets The Godfather.)

General Questions:

Does the movie contain a bizarre time warp plot and Keanu Reeves?
Is the movie a sequel staring a rough-looking Stallone, who seems to insist on writing/directing movies until the Rocky and Rambo franchises rival the Police Academy movies for sequels?
Is the movie directed by M. Night Shyamalan, and it’s not The Sixth Sense?
Did the movie go direct to video?
Is the title of the movie Snakes on a Plane?
Is it a war movie with a chick in it? (Because according to The Phosgene Kid all war movies with chicks in them suck.)

If you answer yes to any of these questions the chances of movie suckage are 50%. Yes to two questions and the chances of suckage are 80%. Three or more yeses raise the odds of movie suckage to 99.9%.

Schlock Therapy

2006-08-18T06:15:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Schlock Therapy

Low Tree, High Maintenance

2006-08-11T05:35:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Low Tree, High Maintenance

Drawbacks of Global Warming

2006-08-08T18:09:00.001-07:00

Hot weather ideal for mosquito love fest
The “deodorant optional” among us will really stand out
FEMA can’t find a flood with CNN and a map
Styrofoam makes comeback
Smoking won’t be such an ass-pain
No more Winter Olympics
Some crops don’t do well in high heat—like rice and corn
Antiquated electrical grids won’t be able to handle extended seasons of a/c usage
“Yes, that mole is cancer.”

Benefits of Global Warming

2006-08-08T18:09:00.000-07:00

Everyday casual Friday
The price of oil may go up, OPEC is psyched
Most people prefer warmer climates (How else would you explain Jamaica as a tourist destination--where people go, but don’t leave their lovely resorts?)
Global Warming is caused by CO2 and plants love CO2
Longer growing season
More precipitation, less drought
Webbed feet will be genetically desirable
Pesky permafrost will thaw making it easier to despoil Alaskan wilderness for with oil drills
Calamari bumper crop
Backyards become tropical retreats
Dry ice martinis

Global Warming: Sweating it Out

2006-08-04T07:03:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Global Warming: Sweating it Out

Loading and Unloading

2006-07-28T07:40:00.000-07:00

Friday Editorial at Cynical Sarah:

Loading and Unloading

The Price of Jet Fuel is What?

2006-07-28T07:01:00.000-07:00

Just in case, Dear Reader, it isn’t obvious from my scanty postings I was on vacation for a couple of weeks. I know that my lack of postings indicate that I was gone for longer than that, but there’s prep time in there, and recovery time. (As far as you know.)

While recuperating from jet lag, seat squish twitch, deep vein thrombosis, the Delta Airlines Crud and Dutch cheese withdrawal, I was wondering what it would take to fly first class. I thought I had reached the pain point on international flights, where it would just be easier to pay double and fly without my knees shoved up some stranger's rear.

I did about ten minutes worth of research to find the cost, First Class and Slave Boat Class, of tickets from Phoenix to Frankfurt, Germany, in September. The lowest fair for Slave Boat Class was $733. I thought that $733 seemed pretty reasonable. Considering that Germany and Arizona are thousands of miles apart.

So then, I revised my search to include First Class, instead of Slave Boat Class. The lowest price is $10,402. That’s about 14 times the Slave Boat Class price of $733. (Business Class was about 6 or 7 times the price of Slave Boat Class.)

Is there a complete disconnect here? Or am I crazy? First Class cannot be worth $10,000. Unless maybe you’re flying to Mars.

Are First Class travelers up there getting facials, manicure/pedicures, full body massages, and happy endings? I really can’t understand how airlines can expect people to pay 14 times the price of Slave Boat Class to ride, in what I like to call the “You’re all going to die, first” Zone. It's like the airlines said, "Okay, you can ride up front, but you have to pay for the gas." When you're talking about jet fuel, what kind of deal is that? Is there a solid gold, self-cleaning toilet seat in the First Class lavatory that the flight attendants ask the human chattel not to use? Even if it were, would it really be worth an extra $9,669?

First Class Passengers pay that much extra and breath the same dry, recirculated air. They don't get there that much earlier. I highly doubt that Sky Chef is capable of a meal much better than the gloppy gravy muck, with sun-dried tomatoes, that Slave Boat Class gets. So really, they're paying a pretty exorbitant mark-up for a comfier seat and more space.

Next time we fly international Sweetface and I are buying an extra seat and I’m bringing mini bottles of lemon-flavored vodka in my purse. Lots of mini bottles.