Saturday, February 17, 2007

As seen on TV: Its not Fascism its just beer

Well kids its back to the grind stone, I've decided to start putting these rants on myspace so all you bastards can now read it, so enjoy it or I'll tell. Now on to the matter at hand, the subject for this angry monologue is as you can see from the televisual filing cabinet of idiocy we know as TV advertising. It seems that we cant escape it no matter how hard we try kids. There is always some form of stupidity that just boggles the mind. So kids open the draw strap on your stack hats and dive into the water that is about as deep as moist concrete. This week we at the Pope Terry training camp for intolerable bastards have noticed quite a lovely advert for a rather famous German beer, now since your all slaves to the substance your all going "No your holiness, please leave the beer alone" well kids I'm sorry I cant this one is just to stupid to escape. So are we ready, yes well then lets get into it.

The famous German beer in question is indeed Becks. Now Becks have a few adverts all concentrating around a single bottle of beer, and there is always a question involved. Yes kids that is rather confident of them to assume that beer drinkers can still answer questions with the few remaining braincells they have left, but still they ask.
Dramatised example
Becks advert: "Whats the best way to drink Becks"
Beer Drinker: "Eleven"

Of course I may be being a bit harsh but Jesus didn't turn water into beer did he, he made wine, the finest wine to come from a box anyone could ever taste. But the particular advert we look at is the one concerning whats in Becks. Now we all know the ingredient of beer hops, barley, yeast, water, and the urine of some animal (that last ingredient is never mentioned but we all know its in there). Now Becks tell us this list, this simply list, and are so unbelievably proud of the simplicity of this yeasty concoction that they feel pressed to inform the viewer that it complies with the strictest of German laws. The German "PURITY" law.... ooh wait did you feel that, yes kids that was the sound of every Jew in the world shuddering at the mention of German and Purity that close in a sentence.

Now I'm not saying Becks are Nazis, far from it I'm just assuming as a German (company) that they would at least have the thought not too mention 'Purity' for say the next 10,000 years. So kids rest assured that the Nazi regime is now kaput and will never be in power any wear ever again. Why because there busy putting the principals to work in German breweries.
Becks Brewer One: "Arh hello Fritz how are you
Becks Brewer Two: "Ya I'm good Hanz how is ze beer today"
Becks Brewer One: "Ya is good, there was some black bits in there before so I put it in ze concentration tank"
Both: "Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha"
Becks Brewer Two: "Ve are such stereotypes"
Becks Brewer One: "I know whose viting zis shit"

So kids next time your enjoying your beer, if that is at all possible, just remember the years that the Jews went through in order for Becks to really nail that recipe for beer.

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Muney wit a misshin

Muney wit a Misshin
Foreword: Well kids its only been a while since I last posted but I know you want more. Its something a little different this time, over the last couple of weeks I've been entranced by "The Believers Voice of Victory", a true beacon in the world today for the light of God. Its the content of the show that fascinates me, the host Kenneth Copeland the paragon of style and virtue for no doubt every single used car salesman ever and the immovable and inaudible Dr Leroy Thompson. What this man is a doctor of is a mystery to me but if God loves him then so do I. Now this last week or so the two have been truly testing the limits of the saying beating a dead horse. The two like little jackhammers are nonstop in trying to convince the viewer to make a purchase that would truly save there lives, two books by the aforementioned doctor, that are basically leaving your finances in gods hands. So now your interested, now your probably complaining that I haven't said anything funny, well that's no different from other times is it. But now to the crux of the matter the point to this foreword, me in my brilliancy have come up with this, the following is an account of the day in the life of god as he runs his bank, the J. H. Christ first and loan. So sit back relax and enjoy, read it though, that's part of the deal you know.____________________________________________


8.18 am
It was a bright day, as usual the sun shone down on the roof of the car as it pulled into the staff car park, it was times like these the driver wished it was a convertible. The usual park was clear, that was the point he guessed of being the manager, the good parking spot. It's not that work was bad but, being a manager was great it was just that being a manager, meant you had to manage people, and people was where he fell down. he was not a people person. He sat in the car for a few minutes after he had already turned it off, the radio was still on, it was that song he liked, he still didn't know the words even though he'd heard it every day for the past eight weeks. Something about love or oral sex.... either the singer was a lyrical genius and knew every metaphor for blow job there was or, she loved to kneel down whilst humming. The radio went off and finally he stepped out of the car. Briefcase in hand then came the short walk towards the door, his watch said 8.23, almost 9.00, but still enough time to spend wishing he was still in bed. Maybe a sick day, but no it was too late behind him came the noise, a another car. He turned and through the largely cracked windscreen of the car that was more citrously inclined than it should be he saw the long haired bespectacled face that really made hi wish he'd taken a sick day. As usual, this hairy annoyance parked excruciatingly close to his car and then got out. A smart grey suit with a gold tie was as usual ruined by the fact that again sandals adorned the feet.
"Hey dad", the usual greeting, in the usual way, seemingly cheerful but with a little snideness.
"Jesus...." he replied, how was the weekend.
"Alright I guess, the wife took the kids to some theme park, the came back hypo of course and Morgan broke a bottle, wine everywhere on the new rug."
"Ahhhh...." He wasn't really listening, it as always the same, he never knew why he'd married Mary, one would of thought the name would of been enough of a warning to put him off but his son had never been that clever.Still he had the keys for the door in his hands, kneeling down he slid it into the keyhole and turned.
Both men entered the building, a truly hideous piece of modern architecture, another mistake he regretted making but from the inside it was alright, his office was his kingdom, and it was just the way he liked it.He sat down behind his desk on his executive leather chair, picked up his name plate and gave the brass face a wipe with the sleeve of his jacket. The letters on it shone again like they were always meant to.... G O D.


10.36 am.

Some time had passed between the time he had arrived at work and the day so far was looking alright but, still there was that little regret in the back of his head. Everything was calm and normal but, well he knew what the said about the storm, and he knew it probably wasn't far away. And since he'd just noticed a meeting with Jesus scheduled at 10.45, he could already feel it starting to drizzle. Some quick relief was needed, he quickly pulled his headphones out of his pocket, and wrapped them around his head... Ozzy always did it for him, Iron Man was about halfway through playing when the door flung open and in walked the party pooping incarnate.
"Hey dad, remember we had a meeting"
"Mmmmmngh" this was the usual reply, he always thought it weird that, people never trusted his memory, you'd think the dude that created the earth and the heavens could remember a simple meeting, but no one did.
Since Jesus was the banks human resources manager hes was always griping about cost cutting, nothing more than a glorified consultant he always thought people could of been payed less for more work. This was the point to today's meeting.
"So shall we get started" Jesus said.
"No wait a minute accounts isn't here yet" God replied.
It was a uncomfortable few minute while they waited, a space in time not long enough to say anything meaningful, but just long enough say something incredibly stupid, which Jesus usually did.
"So you screwed up on the penis didn't you" and there it was.
"What should it look like....."
Meanwhile, Stanley Lipshitz was running up the stairs because he was late for a meeting, as the head of accounts he was an asset to the bank, he newly acquired employee poached from a rival, this was his first day and he didn't really want to make a bad impression. He reached the door to gods office and walked in, there in the room was Jesus standing at the white board, with a picture of what looked like a penis with fins. Stanley thought he must of missed something and that it couldn't be what it looked like but, there was that little voice inside of him that said 'hmmmm fins, that could work'.

God arose from his chair, glad that the conversation had been stopped he looked towards Stanley for some help, a look that went unnoticed as he was still transfixed by the white board and its contents.
"Jesus this is Stanley, the new head of accounts" God said and gestured toward Stanley, while the two where still either admiring or deciphering the strange whiteboard image. Stanley turned towards Jesus and stuck out his hand.
"Stanley Lipshitz pleased to meet you" he happily quipped.
Jesus was shaking his hand has he said his name, as Lipshitz came out, the handshake dramatically slowed, almost to a crawl.
"Lipshitz, that's Jewish right" Jesus enquired.
"Yeah,... I'm Jewish" came the timid reply.
The two stood there holding hands for a second, as the moment became ever more uncomfortable Stanley started looking any but Jesus's direction, his feet seemed nice, all the while Jesus was slowly boring a hole into the top of Stanley's head with his stare. He wasn't a petty man he always said but, the incident had always stuck in his mind.
Meanwhile God watched on at the usual goings on when Jesus meet a Jewish person, he gotten sick of telling him to forget it but, it had never worked so he just didn't bother anymore.
"Well that's enough introductions shall we get on with the meeting" God decided to save Stanley from doing the meeting oh his feet holding the saviour of another religions hand, that's always such a blow to ones confidence. Would Jesus of let go, maybe but one thing he had going for him was stamina, so it would of been a while.



2.45 pm

It was late afternoon and the sun was streaming in through the window heating up the office and making it almost impossible to stay awake. Gods eyes started to droop, slowly at first then quickening, he couldn't keep them open. Then asleep, calm peace as it always should be.......
"Oh my GOD" a shrill voice came pounding its way through the serenity, shattering any hope of further rest. The voice belonged to Jeremy, his incredibly camp secretary. That was his favourite joke, to scream Oh my GOD, at the top of his lungs whenever he saw his boss.
It was funny the first time but after six years the joke was about as thin the ever receding hair on Gods head.
"God, were you asleep, having a little nap were we, ha hahahaha" That laugh could drop a plane, stinger missiles had nothing on a small camp man called Jeremy with bleached blond hair and a muscle shirt with sex kitten written on it.
"Don't forget the advertising meeting coming up at 3.30" Jeremy said.
"Is that all" God replied desperate to have the room back to him self again.
"Yes that's...... it......" He started to drift off as the white board still with the picture of the aerodynamic penis on it had caught his eye, his face was covered with a look of bemusement and wonder.
"You know" he started, God dreaded what the next words that left his mouth would be."I saw a guy with one of those the other week" this was said with the straightest of faces so completely seriously and with the tone of intelligence. Jeremy looked at God, whose face was buried deep into his hands.



3.30pm

More dozing had preceded this point in time, trying to stay awake but not very hard, there was a loud and obnoxious beep then an even louder and more obnoxious gay man yelling at him over the intercom
"God your 3.30 is here" Jeremy screamed, as soon as this message had been relayed there was a cloud of smoke and loud explosion, as the haze cleared there stood a man in an expensive Italian designer suit, and some rather shiny but never distasteful gold jewelery.
"Hello God"
"Satan, hows business" God replied.
"Well you know, advertising is the place to be, someone always got some shit to be slung" he smiled wryly and sat down. Satan had been running his own advertising company since the eighties, he couldn't stand not being the most evil person in the world, and since he was overtaken by the advertising industry in the early eighties he decided the smart thing to do was join the club.
He had had many high class success, notably several campaigns for some popular software companies. But his favourite was his work for the Church of Later Day Saints, he had heard saying that a rich man will sell you the rope to hang him with but he wasn't worried, Christians always forgive, that was their problem.
"So what have you got for us" God inquired, he didn't really care, as he saw it advertising was a necessary evil, just like Satan really so it didn't matter who did it or what it was, advertising always worked. Satan clicked his fingers and as he had entered so did a set of window displays, as the smoke cleared the tacky plastic images of Jesus came clear. He was wearing the classic white robes and crown of thorns, holding a credit card and laughing with a man dressed as a Roman centurion, above them the slogan

"Don't get crucified by interest rates".
He knew it was going to be bad, but he didn't guess it was this bad.
"Did 'he' ahh, OK this..."
"Oh yeah it was his idea" Satan quipped "I've gotta give it to him he really knows how to cash in on his past"
"Yeah, yeah he does. So there were some TV spots as well weren't there" he asked whilst really not wanting to know. Satan nodded and clicked his fingers again, in popped a TV and out went the displays.
The lights flickered on, slowly at first, they hissed for a while then stopped. Satan was about to press play on the video, when as everyone else that had been in the room he noticed the white board.
"Now that's a COCK" its not surprising that the prince of darkness was not known for his subtlety, he walked toward the white board, "Christ you could fly with that thing..... is that ahhh"
"Yeah that's 'his' idea" came the reply"You ever consider anything like that..."
"No, why the hell would I..... yes its ugly but what the hell is it meant to look like, it serves two functions both of them are private so I didn't see the need for anything spectacular" God was starting to get annoyed, out of all the questions he'd been asked over the years surprising this was the second most asked one, it was more than a little tedious at this point in time.
"Two functions..... well your not very adventurous" Satan always enjoyed pushing buttons and he could tell he was smashing Gods at the moments. But this was a business meeting and Satan was nothing if not professional, he pushed play and the video started.



5.00 pm

Eight hours of hell, had just finished, the offices where quiet with everyone having left at the first sniff of five o'clock, with Jesus at the head of the back, no doubt off to the super market for a bottle of water..... yes he really was that cheap. How had he gotten to this stage, well it didn't matter God thought, there were more important and better people out there, people that actually cared. This made him smile, until he remembered that most of these people would be bitch slapped by bank charges from his branch. There was only one thing in life that really mattered..... what was it though, he could never remember.