Sunday, December 23, 2007

I could take 'em... Margaret Thatcher



So kids back again for another dose of crap, well good for you. I’m quite sure by now you know its bad for you, but it’s always the bad stuff that taste the best isn’t it. Well what has happened in the recent weeks, well I joined up to the Wits End community, I’ll be posting some short stories there every now and then, you can find the link in the blog roll. Britney’s younger sister is following her down the path to pure white trash, and has become pregnant to one of her church friends at the age of 16… its so very Christian isn’t it, somehow I think the piety and the reserved nature of Christianity didn’t rub off on her. Oh well, I’m sure they will get married and live a long and happy life together, no seriously I’m sure they will, someone from that family has to be normal. And of course it’s nearly Christmas, it’s the Sunday before the big day and ol’ Jeebus is rubbing his hands together at the thought of celebrating his 2007 birthday. Whilst kids every where pray that the parental units they are attached to get them the correct Barbie or Action Joe slut toy. Oh well hey kids it’s on to more important matters.

A while ago I posted how I could win a fight against Ghandi, basically because I am so immensely strong cool and sexy. Why would I want to fight him wasn’t important but the basic gist was I kicked him in the sack, when he was distracted by me telling him everyone’s favourite MASH character was behind him. Dirty I know but hell that’s me, pure dirt, but don’t you love me for it. In that little pointless post we all lost some brain cells, it was inevitable kids wasn’t it, so don’t worry about it. But Lin of the Creek Journal stupidly encouraged me by giving me a suggestion of who I could fight next, so blame her for this update of puerility. Introducing the next bout in the long line of people I could take, Margaret Thatcher, ex Prime Minister of England and the only person in the world who bothers pronouncing ‘h’ properly. First of all yes I know she is a woman, but only just, I know you’re all looking down your noses at me for saying I’m going to take on a woman, but I dare say most of you would be unaware of the fact that old Maggie was a bare knuckle boxing champ. Growing up in the mean streets of Oxford beating off poor people who were after her small change, lead to her true first passion, mixed martial arts.



So this fight wont be as easy as kicking a small Asian man in a nappy in the spuds. First lets go down the path of how this fight would start, hold on kids it’s about to get really, really stupid, Jessica Simpson type stupid. There goes me, a much younger, stylish me wandering down the streets of England singing a Clash song. Which one it doesn’t matter, actually I’m probably just yelling “Fatchers England” at the top of my voice whilst pretending my semi literate public school education taught me anything about politics. You know like Joe Strummer. I’m pretending that being a musician makes my opinion important, and that instead of going into politics where my great ideas can make a difference I’m going to get rich cashing in on the stupidity of the lower class youth. Who think I’m some sort of lyrical political genius, you know like Joe Strummer. So I’m some wannabe punk hippy douche bag wandering down the street playing my three cords whilst singing in an accent you normally associate with receiving your order of fish and chips, you know like Joe Stru…, ok so you get the point, I hate Joe Strummer and The Clash. If he had such great knowledge of politics why the hell didn’t he do something about it by becoming a politician? Not that I’m standing up for Maggie, not at all, but lets leave my views of all politicians and people in positions of power for another time, I have a fight to deal with.

So there is me, “Fatchers England”, and so on. When suddenly from the opposite direction comes the Iron Wench herself, she looks me up and down, displeasingly groaning at my clothes made out of safety pins and garbage bags. I notice this and being the reserved individual you know I am look for some action.

Me: “Yo, Thatcher… you suck and… stuff”
Maggie: “Get a job you urchin”
Me: “Hey, I’m not gay”
Maggie: “That’s not what Urchin means you fool”
Me: “I know I was making a statement about the current education system”
Maggie: “No you weren’t, you’re just a Cretin”
Me: “OK now I know you’re calling me gay, so put em up biatch”
Maggie: “I don’t want to fight you I promised my mother I wouldn’t fight any more”
Me: “Oh of course, but now you’re off to work in an ice factory”
Maggie: “Yes, but how did you know that?”
Me: “That’s the story to ‘The Big Boss’”
Maggie: “That’s… just a coincidence”
Me: “You are such a liar”


And on it would go in a ridiculous circle of stupidity, until of course we would either ending up punching on or sleeping together, but hopefully the former of the two. But now to the meat of the sandwich, how could I take on such a dangerous specimen of femininity and come out on top, the kick to the bikkies isn’t an option. The boob punch is a special tactic I choose to reserve for really special occasions, (I haven’t had to use it yet). So how, well there is one tactic that does seem to carry some weight to it. It is an ancient technique passed down through the Pope family lines, a secret tactic only a few know about, how can I put this so it wont sound crude… smash the bitch in the knee cap with a lump mallet. I know it’s not the secret kung fu style kick flippy thing you imagined is it. But what can I say we Catholics aren’t a terrible subtle bunch, look at our two most famous organisations, ones the Vatican and the others the Mafia. What did you expect?

So again I just resorted to cheating, to beat up a woman who even in her hey-day was a good few decades older than me. But hey your not here to see nice I am are you, you’re here to marvel at my amazing manliness and shiny muscles… oh look at this one.

Pope Terry aiming just beyond mediocrity

Margaret Thatcher seems to get a great deal of pleasure from humor-blogs.com

Sunday, December 16, 2007

A lesson in self help: Christmas Special, Friends, Romans Country men and Family I guess


So original I'm even using the same picture again.


Well kids eight days hey, what a length of time for you to go without this poorly worded whinge fest. Well rest easy now kids because for your reading displeasure I have returned for another instalment to the diary. It is Christmas and like every other blogger out there I have forgone original ideas for the time being and have indulged my self in the season. The festive season and all its trappings, and after last weeks debacle into the world of presents and gifts this time around we move on to the less important things, family and friends. Yes kids I know you all love them but maybe with my help you can develop some serious feelings of resentment towards them, its healthy you know. OK well it might not be but I’ve got nothing else to say and this introduction isn’t going to write itself, so here I am wasting both words and your time. So as every ones festive celebration draws nearer lets delve into it shall we, hopefully you can get something helpful out of this.


Lets start with friends, well not friends really, workmates. The people you only associate with because your being paid to, they are like the general public but slightly less annoying. Now many of you will be heading out to Christmas ‘parties’ for work, if you haven’t already. In which case this little guide will be of no use to you, so suck eggs I guess. A lot of you will also have to buy gifts for these bludgers who milk everything they can out of your good efforts, so taking into account last entries advice, get them the present they deserve. A girt voucher is perfect, quick and easy and shows absolutely no thought involved, and is somehow more of a gift that cash even though its half as useful. It also says to the person ‘there you go I haven’t thought about you at all apart from when I walk by you to use the photocopier’. Just make sure its not a gift voucher to a specialty store like ‘Club X’, I gave one to Cardinal Ratzinger a few years ago and all I got was a dirty look, and some wry smiles from a few of the less ‘savoury’ Catholics in the room.



But anyway lets move on, your at the actual party, it’s the usual booze up in the conference room or some cheap third party location. Everyone is drunk management are sifting there way through the crowds mingling trying to find a secretary to bed… hmmm it doesn’t sound like a bad party does it. But there is a few things to watch out for. If you’re a female firstly the wandering hands of drunken fellow employees. Yes they can control themselves while there sober, but with a skinful of cheap plonk and some dodgy crab puffs, even Tony the nice guy from accounts might try a bit of ‘hands on’ Xmas cheer. How can you avoid it, well you could work somewhere without men… but honestly what kind of hell would that be, lets face it ladies where (men) pretty tops aren’t we. Or you could zap the git with your 90,000 volt taser, I know which is more satisfying. For men, well single men, married ones your beyond help… ladies, ladies, I kid, I kid, hehehehe… single men keep your grubby mits to yourselves, and don’t try to pick up. Yes you may succeed but don’t forget the following daily interactions with some one you had a drunken night of work related poontang often aren’t conductive to a cohesive work environment. Some advice for both parties, if you plan on photocopying, at use some Windex or some other cleaner on scanner surface, you don’t know where the other parts of your colleagues have been.

Now for those parties where you actually know and like the people invited. Your friends, yes the family you chose. For these occasions there are really very few things to remember, because since your with those you love you can get drunk and make a complete tool of yourself, and the only people making fun of you will be those that where there. But there are some etiquette's you should be reminded of, in order for the festive season to remain calm. Keep in mind if you have a particularly large group of friends some may not know or like everyone in the group, so any utterances said about anyone else should probably remain under your hat. I remember some years ago a great stoush between Bishop Desmond Tutu, and myself, it ruined the whole party when I found it urgent to dump the contents of the punch bowl on him when he took a toilet break, after hearing his comments about my hat. Needless to say the two factions still aren’t really talking. So if you hear something in confidence keep it that way, the consequences can be bad for everyone. And a message to everyone one of both sexes, picking up again can be quite a bad idea, it would be wise to avoid it with your close friends, acquaintances yeah sure why should you care if your never going to see them again. However if you do know them, the performance in either respects can lead to various outcomes, pessimists and optimists make your choices here.



And onto family, love them or loathe them, you have to love them, it’s the rules. Here is where it all hits the fan, because there are very few if any tips you would need to remember, because as I said, they are family. They have to love you, it’s the rules. Barring of course you have done something completely terrible to them, say for example you are 56, and you are going to spend Christmas with your 18 year old wife's family, unless that is the situation or something similar everything should be hunky dorey. You can do anything, I’d draw the line at physical violence, but at the end of the day what’s a punch up between cousins, its nothing really is it. I can only speak from my own family experience but you should usually bring some food, preferably something you have never made before. Something that combines say, bananas and pork, something that will have everyone going ‘oh that’s interesting’, when if they ordered it in a restaurant they’d send it back and stab the waiter. (Why is it every year we have to have the most inedible crap on the planet, not once have I come through a salad and gone oh that was nice). Having Christmas in summer (its something to do with an Ecuador or something I don’t understand it) we have a selection of cold meats, and yes they are as appetising as the phrase ‘cold meat’ sounds, like an icy corpse. But they are family and you love them, it’s the rules.

So that’s part two of the guide to Christmas, well its not really a guide is it, guides are something you follow this was just a short stop to a vacation at a ‘retreat’ if you get the drift. Hopefully I will be back soon with a new movie review, if not I will no doubt be mining the depths of the mundane to come up with something incredibly stupid. So check back for that. On the off chance I don’t get back here before the big day I would like to wish everyone a Happy (insert religious or social celebration here) celebrate it however you want and be merry.

Pope Terry aiming just beyond mediocrity

The Turkey is a roastin’ over at humor-blogs.com

Saturday, December 08, 2007

A lesson in self help: Christmas Special, Gifts



So kids welcome again to your regular dose of inanity. I’m guessing most of you are well aware of the time of the year that it is, if your not, well buy a calendar that should clear up the mystery. Of course in all major religions well the ones that count anyway, Christianity and Catholicism (and really it’s the only the later of them), are about to celebrate… wait what Judaism, what the hell does Jesus have to do with Judaism… really… well that’s a surprise, oh now I get that Kinky Friedman song. Any ways were all well aware of the time of the year, and no matter whom we give praise to and where, it’s usually a time for celebration and frivolity. And you all know what that means, yes kids it’s the most depressing annoying time of the year. The time of they year we are forced to not only interact with people we don’t really like but in a lot of cases spend money on them. So like most other bloggers I’m guessing, I’m going to throw my hat into the arena and try to give everyone some helpful advice on how to come through the festive season with you sanity and more importantly your wallet intact. Depending on how much I can squeeze out of this super original idea it may even be a multi-part guide to the holidays. So sit back and enjoy the enormous nature of this incredible idea.

Firstly the most important part of the holiday, gifts, presents, whatever you want to call them they are without a doubt the whole point to the holiday. Yes you can all argue that its not, ‘no it’s the family and the being together’, but we all know just below the surface your harbouring dreams of diamond earrings, various power tools and other assorted elements of western commercialism. But don’t worry kids, that is what Christmas is all about. Because it’s actually the combination of two celebrations, the birth of Jesus and the actions of good old saint Nic several years later. Of course you can celebrate the birth of Christ if you want but honestly who wants to be fiddling about with Jesus when there is an Xbox to play with. So let’s celebrate what Saint Nic did, he gave some cash to some guy so he wouldn’t have to sell his daughter into prostitution, god it’s always got to be about sex doesn’t it. Later ion some nuns carried this on be giving muffin baskets to poor people, well maybe not muffin baskets it was probably some sort of cheese and wine assortment for brunch on the 16th of December, the original date of Saint Nic’s day. Of course the church being the slave drivers they were didn’t want to give to many public holidays so they combined the two holidays, the birth of the greatest little Jew in the world and muffins to stop prostitution day. And it was called Christmas and yay they did celebrate by getting drunk and eating turkey.

But enough history lets look at presents, now a present can say many things, all of which are very important, firstly I love you and I want you to know that. Secondly I love you but it may not be clear by this gift. Thirdly I hate you and I don’t want you to know it, and fourthly I hate you with every ounce of my being and I really want you to see how much I do. There is often a fifth category reserved for those we don’t really know, for things like Kris Kringles or Secret Santa, where the message is I don’t know who you are but here is a present for you anyway. Now a gift is important depending on which message you want to send to the receiver. Selection is a very tough process, many things should be considered, some of which you may not automatically think of. Firstly an often forgotten reason for present selection, revenge, yes you all scoff at the thought of it but it’s a valid reason. Take into account the past presents you received from said person and if you’re not happy with the selection, it really makes the decision on the message you want to send a lot clearer. Now Christmas you may say is not the time for spite, well bollocks to you is my response, nothing ruins Christmas for a kid more than getting a crappy present, now use your imagination what would baby Jesus have felt ripping open the box only to find Muir.

Jesus: “Ohhh what’s this”
Wiseman 3: “Well open it I think you’ll be surprised”
Jesus: “Oh man I hope it’s a PSP”
Wiseman 3: “No it’s even better”
Jesus: “Hhahaa… oh its Muir… this will go really well with my Frankincense… thanks…”

But what is a good revenge gift to give, well first you have to look at the person your dealing with who are they, man or woman, young or old, what is their social class. Here’s a few quick ideas, I’m sure you’ll be able to pick up on the waves I’m sending out, for anyone even slightly interested in feminism, I’d recommend some sort of household appliance, an iron is always good, if not a little obvious. Why not a lovely DVD of ‘The age of Love’, the show where women compete for the affection of a complete loser. For a man it’s really more of the same, you could give them an iron, but that should be reserved for truly extreme cases. If he is a sports lover try giving him something like an equestrian calendar, or something to do with synchronised swimming. The point of the revenge gift is really for your benefit, its cathartic a way to relieve the stress of receiving socks or scented candles for the past five Christmases.

Now revenge is a fine and dandy reason for giving a gift but well lets face it you’re probably more interested in love aren’t you, you big saps. Well I guess I have to cover that don’t I then, if you love someone then sure go out and spend all your money on something they will really love. What you ask well kids if you don’t know your friends by now and what they like then I can’t really help you can I. I may be the psychic leader of an entire religion dedicated to world dominati… I mean world harmony, but I can’t help you buy presents, I’m not that dirty commie Santa. But there are many reasons you should buy the ones you love great gifts, the biggest of course is self preservation. Getting someone else something they will like so they don’t try and kill you in your sleep for getting them the wrong gift. Now I realise with this post I’m probably posting the most inappropriate example of Christmas spirit ever, but bugger it someone has to be a Grinch don’t they. So to prevent someone giving you a revenge gift, try for your own sake to give a gift that someone will enjoy.

Now what gifts to give, it is not really a guide just few tips really. Underwear and socks, don’t, just don’t if you have already bought these and plan to give them to someone, hurt yourself immediately. No one wants these presents, gifts are for peoples enjoyment, and unless the person on the receiving end is a naturalist or is living in the dark depths of the Amazon, underwear and socks will only force them to bring out the ‘oh thanks…’ face. In fact clothes are pretty much off the list entirely for any male, unless they express a wish for such accoutrements. Blokes what do you get your little lady, well anything made from heavily condensed coal would probably impress, but barring you having a few grand to spare why not try some decorative candles, they love that crap. Throw pillows will also impress for some reason, women are looking for a man that knows houses are for decoration and showing off to friends, not for a comfortable place to rest. Under no circumstance should anything involved with house work be given, unless you’re fishing for a divorce of course.

Coming from a family where I and the ‘sibling’ where the only two of our generation I can tell it’s obviously hard for people without kids to know what to buy people of a younger generation. Having received many gifts over the years that gave me the ‘oh thanks…’ face, I can honestly tell you there is one gift that you can be safe with… MONEY. Get that let me repeat, MONEY, CASH, POUNDS, DOLLARS, DENAROS. You can’t go wrong, but that is so impersonal you say, where is the thought? Well kids its better no thought than the wrong thought. They will enjoy it because it lets them go and buy lots of Moon Pies, Penny whistles, condoms and cheap hooch, or whatever it is that the kids buy nowadays. And Gift Certificates are not money, there like cash but show you don’t trust them enough to go to a shop of there choice and make a purchase. Why would your nephew want a gift voucher for a book store, he listens to heavy metal, people like that don’t read, they can barely speak properly without furiously shaking the heads. Money people, money, we are children of a material world and there is one thing that makes us smile, the thought of you handing us a big wad of cash.


Mmmmm, thoughtful


So kids that’s your lot for now, I’ll be back soon with part to of the Pope Terry guide to Christmas/festive season. It will have something to do with family I’m sure so check back soon on some helpful advice on ignoring the more annoying portions of your relatives.

Pope Terry aiming just beyond mediocrity

The festivities have begun already over at humor-blogs.com

Sunday, December 02, 2007

As seen on TV: Reality Bites

Ok kids here we are again back for another dose of idiocy, you must all be gluttons for punishment for returning again after the last instalment of stupidity. But here you are again ready and willing for that big spoonful of loving. A quick update for you all first, in case you didn’t know in case your head has been buried under piles and piles of whatever it is people bury there heads in, Australia has a new Prime Minister. But you all already new that didn’t you it was all over your news broadcasts and newspapers, showing you all that were not the piss ant little country Sweden thinks we are… Ha! cop that Sweden. Any way Kevin ‘07’ Rudd has been hoisted above the rest of the criminals, colonists and miscreants meaning for the next four years, things will be exactly the same as they have been for the last eleven, except everything blue will now be red. I trust you all know who Kevin Rudd is, he eats ear wax, I’m sure if you put that into a youtube search you’ll find out why every Australian is collectively shouting they voted for the other guy. But not me kids no this little donkey voted for the National Socialist Alliance, so yes that’s right, I threw my vote away. But what the hell it’s a democracy it’s my choice. Back to point though, the reason you’re here yet again, this time children it’s another fresh instalment of ‘As seen on TV’.

In this heady world today kids many things fill the ether, one such thing is the familiar signal of the TV broadcasts. Buzzing through the air delivering entertainment goodness to the homes of you, me and every other person with nothing else better to do like talk to there loved ones. And thanks to the current climate in America where those pesky screen writers are after ‘fair’ compensation for their ‘work’, that signal is soon to be clogged up with broadcasts that don’t take as much creative input to produce. Now that might mean repeats of ‘Quincy’, or the star wars movies for the seventieth time, but those with more sense can smell it on the wind. The coming storm. Much like that scene from ‘War of the Worlds’ but without the annoying midget the winds rage as the coming storm front rolls in, yes people ‘Reality Television’ is returning… Yaaaaaaaaarrrgghhhh, and so on. I know you all dread it as much as I do, even though sometimes it can be a little addicting, like crack but less socially acceptable. But ‘it’ is not here yet kids, so prepare, go by some DVDs of shows you liked or missed, or better yet download them and really piss those screen writers off.

But since this is the Diary, I have to volunteer my services and plough through some of the crap that’s on now, and has been on recently. Just to fill you in as a warning of sorts, so you know what to avoid. Now reality television is a funny thing isn’t it, take a situation that would never happen in real life slap in some idiots, and some cameras to film them, don’t forget the smarmy host of course, and there is your show. And whatever crazy scenario the producers can come up with is supposed to pass for reality. Lets look at some examples, ‘The Age of Love’, the latest in the line of particularly sickening scenarios that have been screened. First take one hunk, in this case it was Australian tennis ‘Star’, Mark ‘the Scud’ Philippoussis. Now this is the first thing that’s really laughable about this show, Mark can play tennis, but going with that argument then I’m also properly qualified to give psychiatric advice because I can talk. No doubt he is better than me at swinging a racket, but here in Australia he’s fair more respected for having bunked down with Paris Hilton, as much respect as that can give you.


The Floater loves... Lamp?


Now ‘the Scud’ also known as the ‘Poo’, and even more aptly known as the ‘Floater’ is plonked in the middle of two groups of women, one set some young nubile little things ready to start their journey down the road of whoredom and plastic surgery, if the hadn’t already, whilst the other group, were their leathery slutty future selves, but with a little more self respect. And so the two groups pawned over the one man clawing at each other and crushing each others self confidence, in a display of feminism that would see Larry Flynt shaking his head and saying, ‘ladies, ladies have some self respect’. And on the charade went for weeks until the ‘Floater’ inevitably chose a woman from the younger set, over the one that was only slightly younger than his mother. I’m glad to say this show flopped, but knowing American TV executives, get ready for another season sometime soon, because crap or not it’s cheap to make.

Moving onto another love based reality show we get to ‘Beauty and the Geek’, the show that proves everyone who isn’t attractive is a loser, don’t you feel sorry for all those unfortunate people, I know I do. The concept of the show, take a group of hot young women and place them in a house with a bunch of nerds so socially inept you could consider them mentally defunct. Yes they can do a Rubik’s cube in ten seconds flat, but you just know that at high school they spent more time with the heads in a toilet bowl than not. Now I’m not saying that anyone deserves to be picked on, but sometimes people are just so annoying and caught up in their own self importance that they need a dam good beating, and I’m not talking about the beauties. Look at them their so pretty, and they have been told this there whole lives they cant help being as thick as thick thing at the annual thick convention.

But at least their pretty, the Geeks on the other hand are all basically useless human beings, yes there smart, but they have the social skills of Dugongs. Sure they can interact and talk with other Dugongs, but take them out of there habitat and you have a giant flouncing mammal with the social grace of a lump of seaweed. Let us take a gander at the current seasons crop of losers shall we, one such person springs to mind, his name is of no importance its what he does that really interests me. He and he’s quite proud brag about it tracks monkeys with lasers. Now whether he is some how using refracted beams of light to trace monkeys through a jungle, or there is a breed of cybernetic chimp out there with plasma blasters grown into it that he somehow tracks, is what really fascinates me. Why I don’t know, but the line ‘I track monkeys with lasers’ could be the greatest line of dialogue anyone will ever hear. But eventually there must be a winner, a couple formed of the two groups that triumphs over the rest of the pack to win some big cash prize.


An artists depiction of the 'Laser Monkeys'


Along the way there are tears and tantrums and the usual ‘I just can’t believe how much I’ve grown’, ‘I don’t know how girls like us can treat guys like that the way we do’. Well I’ll tell you why, it is because they are losers, and just because you don’t give them a chance because you don’t find them attractive is nothing to beat yourself up about. Physical attraction is a core element to any relationship, plus when you couple that with the fact that they know more about the warp engines on the Enterprise than how to hold a conversation, you can’t be blamed for not going out with them before this. On its surface it’s a harmless show, but its when you scrape the surface you get a better view of its filth, for a start all the women are stupid, and we all know that there are smart attractive women out there… somewhere. So it’s a little sickening to see women who think their IQ is ‘3000’ and that the Sun is a planet, represent beautiful women. Likewise the Geeks, there are plenty of attractive Geeks out there, there is… ah… and… okay it’s a bad joke but they do exist. I guess I’m just sick of the stereotype of smart people being ugly and nerdish while the pretty ones are bimbos and knuckle draggers.


Actual scene from the hit series 'Beauty and the Geek'


Moving on again we get to the most perplexing case of reality TV, the one show that really truly delves into the lives of the ‘other’ half and shows us what its like to live in the lap of luxury, ‘The Simple Life’. Ah the show Paris Hilton blew some guy on the internet to promote, what a truly marvellous piece of entertainment it is, and was and probably always shall be. How this could ever pass for reality is beyond me, two semi attractive well known celebrities’ show up at various spots around America and are given jobs normal people like you, have to do when you are not reading my blog. Happens every day doesn’t it, well maybe it just happens to me, however the true point to this show lurks in the responses that the two girls give to having to do menial task we all do every day. But who is the joke on, and who is telling it. Is it Paris and Nicole/other random famous for no reason blonde, pretending to be stupid whilst pointing out how rich they are for whatever their parents did. Is it the producers of the show for this excruciating fish out of water crap where all you want to do is squeeze the fish in a vice till they stop breathing, whilst they (the producers) rake in bucket loads of cash. Or is it us the audience for mocking the two idiotic rich white girls for not being able to manage the simplest of things. Whilst secretly yearning to be that rich for even just a day. Well sadly it is probably a mixture of all three; yes we can sit back and laugh at them for being ridiculously inept, but at the end of the day remember, they are both worth millions of dollars. Those two talent less brain dead monkeys with little more than brains of a lemur to rub between them have more money than you could spend in a life, and you’re laughing at them for not being able to reverse a trailer. Reality Bites.

And it always will kids, but thems the cards we are dealt and we should deal with it. I hope your decision on what to watch in the upcoming desert of entertainment that is the writers guild strike, has been made easier. Of course my prediction of a mass of reality TV might be wrong, we might just get loads of cheap crappy sitcoms that were canned before anyone could complain how crap they were. But here is hoping, for what, who knows?

Pope Terry aiming just beyond mediocrity.

There is loads of reality over at humor-blogs.com