A Superman Without a Home

The following was originally published in the May 13 edition of the Dayton Daily News under the pen name/secret identity "Toby Riassi."

Not his real hair.

Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s ... a traitor!

Yes, it seems that when it comes to standing up for one’s country, the Man of Steel doesn’t have much of a spine.

In an upcoming issue of his Action Comics series, Superman attends a rally in Iran to show his support for government protesters there. He’s reprimanded for this by the Secret Service, who apparently has authority over superheroes.

This causes Superman, who fears that he’s being seen as a tool exclusively of the United States, to go before the United Nations and renounce his American citizenship.

Hey, good timing Superman. Maybe you were stuck in a phone booth or something and didn’t hear, but we just got bin Laden. Bet you wish you could reverse the earth’s rotation to turn back time on that one.

But it’s too late. From now on, no matter what you do, we’ll see right through you. Not in the way that you can see through us, with the X-ray vision and all, but in a figurative, non-privacy rights violating sense.

You’re supposed to stand for “truth, justice and the American way,” but in this issue you say that’s “just not enough anymore.” What more do you want, Superman? Do you want us to remove the kryptonite from hot dogs? Forget it. What do you think gives them their sheen?

Oh, word through the newspaper grapevine is that your “buddy” over at the “Daily Planet” Clark Kent plans to remain a citizen. Well you can’t have it both ways, Kal-El. If that is your real name.

If being the embodiment of all that is right and fair in the world isn’t good enough for you, I don’t see how you’re ever going to be satisfied. What is it you don’t like about us anymore? We stopped calling you about kittens stuck in trees. We don’t tug on your cape.

Is it the obesity? Is that it? It’s because we’ve gained weight, isn’t it? Well, excuse us, Mr. Perfect. We weren’t all blessed with super will power.

Or maybe it’s our supposed lack of worldliness? Sorry we don’t all live in Metropolis. Don’t forget, you grew up in Smallville, pal. Which, by the way, has an unusually high crime rate for a little Kansas farming town, if you ask me.

Seems to me that trouble just follows you around. Everywhere you go these catastrophic events aren’t far behind. Bomb threats, kidnappings, the early 90s television dramedy “Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman.” Horrifying occurrences that those who witnessed them will never forget.

But if you’re willing to turn your back on us— all of us— then go right ahead. But it’s up to you to explain it to the children before you go, especially little Jimmy Olsen. He’s going to be devastated. He looks up to you, you know.

Then I want you to go, fly away. Far away. And don’t turn back.

Partly because it’s too painful and partly because we just turned on the Bat Signal. Batman should be here any minute now and that could get awkward.

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No Way to Treat a Guido

The following appeared in the April 29 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Do not be alarmed by its healthy orange glow.

There’s just no pleasing some people.

Like children, for example. You feed them in morning, and, like, four hours later, they’re asking for more food. Will you never be satisfied?!

And then there’s Italy.

First, they didn’t want to be represented in popular culture by compelling and critically acclaimed television and film portrayals of the mafia. What more do you need than critical acclaim? It's the best kind of acclaim.

Photo courtesy of the State Dept.

Now, they don’t like the cast of MTV’s “Jersey Shore” being front and center and shirtless when the topic of conversation turns to Italian-Americans. Why? Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it has something to do with the “L” in favorite Shore saying, “GTL” (gym, tan, laundry). They probably think the guys’ mothers should be taking care of that part for them well into their 40s.

“They embody the worst stereotypes of Italians, multiplied by thousands and Americanized,” Roman newspaper columnist Roberto Del Bove said, I assume between bites of spaghetti and meatballs while stroking his bushy mustache, wearing a giant chef hat and playing an organ grinder so his pet monkey could dance for spare change/pickpocket unsuspecting passersby.

Also, that quote makes it abundantly clear that Mr. Del Bove has never been to an Olive Garden.

Italy’s criticism of “Jersey Shore” began because of plans to film the show’s upcoming season inside the old country, specifically in the city of Florence. Who knows what historic fountains the cast will befoul as they drunkenly mistake them for elaborate hot tubs.

But according to the New York Post, Florence Mayor Matteo Renzi wants to ruin the fun all because he’d prefer to maintain a clean, desirable place for people to live. Lame, Renzi. I thought you were cool, man.

He laid out a set of rules for the cast’s upcoming trip to the motherland, including:

• No filming allowed inside any of the city’s historic buildings. 

No problem there. Unless there are tanning beds in Florence and they count as historic buildings.

• The cast will not be filmed in bars and clubs that serve alcohol. 

OK, so we’re just going to cancel the season now, right? I mean, from what I’ve seen, that’s literally the whole show. Although, this is Europe we’re talking about. So my guess is the guidos and guidettes can just get their respective drinks and shwerves on in other places.

• The cast will not be filmed drinking in public. 

All right then. This is going well. Well, on the plus side, this is going to be the best episode of “Intervention” ever.

• The show should be filmed in a manner to promote Italy (not Americans visiting Italy) and feature its culture and good food. 

You want culture? Both Snooki and JWOW have written books. Actual books, with a certain percentage of words recognized as part of the English language. And The Situation was on “Dancing With the Stars.” Each is their own sort of perverted mutation of culture.

• The show will not be filmed to promote Florence as a drinking town. 

You know what usually happens when a parent tells his or her child over and over not to do something?

Why do I get the feeling Mayor Renzi will be giving the cast the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” speech in a few months?


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Lists That Actually Matter: Five Stock Office Phrases That Should Go Away

Aftermath of a circle back.

In addition to poor microwave etiquette and random bowls of candy every five or so feet, offices are also often rife with cliches and ridiculous buzz words that ultimately mean nothing. Like profitability, for instance. What does that even mean?! And like Carson Daly's inability to resist doing a soul handshake followed by pronounced gesticulation when interviewing a rapper on TRL, many people who are surrounded by drones using these standard office phrases are often unable to keep themselves from trying to join in. Just as I am unable to make a cultural reference that was topical within the last 11 years.

Read the list HERE.

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Don't Go Changing

The following was published in the April 15 edition of the Dayton Daily News and was nominated for Best Imitation of Writing, Latin/Spoken Word.

I don’t do well with change.

One time I went to a restaurant where they secretly replaced the fine coffee they usually served with Folgers Crystals. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks.

So imagine my reaction when it was announced that the Grammy Awards were slashing more than 30 categories.

Really, 30 categories gone? That’s excessive. Then there are a mere 78 left.

I understand not wanting to make cuts out of show time that could be spent extending a pyrotechnic-laced Justin Bieber/Jaden Smith dance routine, but there has to be another way.

All right, deep breaths. I’m going to stay calm here. In the grand scheme of things, it’s no big deal. There could be no Grammys. Can you imagine? Then people would only be able to find out about hot new artists from record stores and FM radio.

The Academy is probably just getting rid of some of those technical awards anyway, the ones handed out in previously held ceremonies at venues with really low ceilings.

“Gone is Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals,” according to eonline.com. “And the Best Female Pop Vocal Performance and Best Male Pop Vocal Performance are getting morphed into the gender-neutral Best Pop Solo Performance.”

Gender-neutral? You can’t judge men’s and women’s songs against each other. All of men’s songs are about women. It’ll subconsciously skew the whole thing.

Whew, it is hot in here. Is anyone else hot? I am burning up.

Okay, that’s fine. Go ahead. While I do not agree that Best Pop Collaboration With Vocals was the right place to start (Best Pop Collaboration With Silence/Body Language, anyone?), I’m willing to go along with it.

I mean, these people run the Grammy Awards. Are you going to question their competency?

So it’s a shame to have lost those categories, but at least the band-aid’s off. We’re finished.

What’s that? We’re not finished? And no one is actually talking to me right now, you say? Interesting.

“The Dance Field has been renamed the Dance/Electronica Field and Best Electronic/Dance Album is now called Dance/Electronica Album,” the Recording Academy press release said.

Come on, Recording Academy. What does that even mean? How do you get from Electronic to Electronica? That’s like going from Rhythm and Blues to R&B. They’re completely unrelated.

“As the distinction was often hairsplitting, Hard Rock and Metal were combined,” the press release continued.

They must mean earsplitting. What they meant to say is that these categories rocked so hard separately that it was earsplitting and hence, they had to be combined for safety reasons.

“Individual categories for Hawaiian, Native American and Zydeco or Cajun Music are being replaced with the Best Regional Roots Music Album category.”

Noooooo! Think of the reaction in Native American communities, where this will likely be viewed as the worst atrocity ever carried out against their people in this country’s history.

I can’t breathe. Water, I need water. The room is starting to spin. I think I’m going to pass out. This can’t be real.

It’s a dream. That’s it. It’s all just a nightmare. Any minute now I’m going to wake up and everything will be back to normal.

Then I’ll see that it was all just a horrible dream, like that time I thought I wrote a whole column about the Grammys.

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Lists That Actually Matter: Five Fast Food Innovations You Didn't See Coming

When it comes to American culinary innovation, we've come a long way since the stuffed crust pizza. In fact, we've come so far that now there's cheese and pepperoni stuffed inside the crust. But we're on a slippery slope. Mostly because the slope is now covered in sweat and bacon grease, but also in a figurative sense, as food makers try to outdo each other in an effort to win America's heart before it explodes. So even though you think we must have reached a plateau and that this game of "can you top and/or stuff this" can't go any further, you know, deep down, that's not true. Think of all the stuff that could still be randomly thrown together in a bowl, bread or otherwise. Or all of the things that could be freakishly manipulated into the shape of a fry. Pepperoni inside the crust? Big deal. Call me when pepperoni is the crust. Then we're getting somewhere. Enough pussyfooting around, American restaurant industry. I'm offering up these five ideas free of charge to get you moving in the right direction. If you care about us, you'll make them happen.

Read the list HERE. 


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Is It News: Nick Lachey Lumbar Support Edition

BREAKING:

Is this news? It's interesting, I think we can all agree on that. I was immediately sucked in. And it's good to hear, what with all we know about the violent aftermath of MTV's Newlyweds. But news? I'm not sure. As usual, I'd prefer to see what, if any, photographic evidence there is to support this item.

Okay, so they're together in a picture. So what? Lots of people get photographed together. Models, heads of state, family members. It doesn't necessarily mean anything. I'm still not convinced ... wait a second. Zoom in.

So it's true! You've done it again, People Magazine.

Verdict: News.

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Images via.

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Ready To Fill the Bill

The following appeared in the April 1 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Read it in a silly duck voice in your head, if you dare.

Can you speak?

Can you, um … well, that’s it actually.

If you can, you could be the next voice of the Aflac Duck! Finally, an occupation where I wouldn’t openly embarrass my family, if only because my work would all be attributed to a sassy duck.

Aflac is encouraging people to “Answer the Duck’s Call.” At least, I think it’s them. They could really just be hunters trying to lure potential ducks out. Just in case, be sure to wear a bright orange vest to audition.

The old voice, Gilbert Gottfried, was let go after making jokes about the earthquake and tsunami in Japan on Twitter. That’s in incredibly poor taste, yes. But maybe this all could have been avoided with a few strategically placed winky smiley face emoticons. Those soften everything.

For example: I’m not sure I love you anymore. ;)

See how that takes the sting out of things? We’ll never know if it would have saved Gilbert though, and now, his loss could be your gain. Go ahead and audition if you want. Entries have to be in today, April 1. You might even come in second place. That’s how confident I am in my application.

All the company asks for in the entry is your name, phone number, email and a 30 second audio or video clip of your interpretations of the duck sounding “informative, frustrated, happy, surprised, angry.”

The directions also say to “feel free to add grunts, groans, and mutterings, but no words other than ‘Aflac.’”

So my recording of a half-minute of emotive grunting complete, I moved on to something that would differentiate me from all the other candidates.

Any good job applicant knows that no matter what the company you’re applying to asks for, always send a cover letter. That’s why I included the following.

To Whom It May Concern:

It started at an early age, when I used to speak with a fake lisp to be like Daffy or often went out wearing a pantsless sailor suit à la Donald.

But eventually, that sort of thing had to stop. Especially the second one. The sailor suit top was getting tight.

And so I moved on, like people so often do, convinced the ship had sailed on my dreams. I could still be happy without being a duck, at least that’s what I told myself.

Then I heard about your search for a new voice for your spokesduck and I knew it was meant to be.

You say you’re looking for someone with a “collaborative spirit, especially when it comes to working with ducks.” So I guess it’s good that my grade school report cards regularly said, “talks at inappropriate times, but works well with other children and water fowl.”

Under special skills, you say the position “requires correct pronunciation of the word Aflac.” As you’ll see in my audition tape, I nailed this one at least six out of every ten times. That’s over 50%!

You’re also looking for “bilingual skills (English Duck and Spanish Duck).” Oh, would you settle for octolingual skills? That’s right, I can quack in eight different languages, including Latin, Esperanto and Pig Latin (“ack-quay!”).

Another special skill called out was the ability to “present complex information clearly and concisely into an effective reading of the word ‘Aflac.’”

That’s a large undertaking, conveying an insurance company’s entire mission and philosophy in one word, spoken in a cartoonish duck voice. But I’m up to the challenge.

Unlike most applicants, I understand that this is where the grunting comes in.

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Lists That Actually Matter: Five Things Your Mom Will Never Be Convinced You Have Enough Of

Fits children up to 38 years old.

You have a job, a house or an apartment, a pair of leather shoes with laces, maybe a car, and you rarely wet the bed anymore. Congratulations, you're a fully functioning adult. But your mom is not fooled. She knows the truth. She knows that you still need help, specifically in these five areas. And if you don't get it, you'll end up cold, starving and alone on the street without so much as a single trashcan fire to warm yourself near. Don't let it happen to you!

Read the list HERE.


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April Fools' Family Fun!

It's April Fools' Day ... or is it?

Yes, it is. Gotcha, you calendar checking moron!

Started in 1693 as a way of rounding up the stupidest members of society to use as kindling for witch burnings, April Fools' has become a convenient one-day excuse for the horrible way people normally treat each other.

What better time to loosen up and show your family that you're not just the angry, abusive drunk they've become so adept at avoiding after long days at work and sporting events you've wagered on than by playing a few wholesome pranks? Here are some you can try out at home today to tenuously regain your loved ones' belief that a soul resides somewhere inside you.

Made ya look: It's amazing that this zinger still fools people after so many years, but believe me, it does. And the best part is, it's the perfect segue into unleashing all the things that bother you about your loved ones that you've been holding in. You merely point and look to an area behind your family member, asking, "What's that behind you?" Then, imagine their surprise when they turn to see nothing at all. Gets 'em every time! That's when you tell them it's no wonder they can't hold down a job or perform better in school, as they've just demonstrated that they have the cranial capacity of a baby orangutan.

Hey, what's that on your shirt: This one never fails. All you do is point down to an area on your family member's shirt and falsely alert them that there's an unidentified spot or stain that requires attention. Then, when they look down, they'll see that there's not really a stain at all. You've just set their shirt on fire.

Squirting flower: Will this classic ever stop being funny? All you do is pin a fake flower to your lapel (note: be sure you're wearing clothing featuring a lapel). Then, when family members invariably lean in to take a smell, spit in their face. Wait until you see the look they give you!

The Old Switcheroo: This one'll really throw 'em for a loop. Take something your family uses everyday and replace it with something that looks similar. What's that honey, your key isn't working? Could it be because I've switched your front door key with the back door key? LOL! Why does this water taste like bleach? Because it is!

Happy fooling, everyone.

Image via.


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Lists That Actually Matter: 25 Best Baseball Mullets

Yer mouth is pertty.

You might look at these 25 men and think that they're all business. But a simple swing around to the back and you'll see that they like to party, too. Having already talked about some of the finest facial hair in the business a few weeks back, it would be negligent for us to ignore the top of the head. Especially when you consider the fact that in the world of sports, only hockey can match baseball's affinity for the mullet. So with opening day just a day or two away (depending on your team), what better time to honor those who best wore the look beloved today by so many, from hillbillies to Canadians to ironic hipsters to ironic Canadian hillbilly hipsters?


Read the whole list HERE.


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Lists That Actually Matter: Top 5 Overused Selling Points

Think about it ... but not too long.

Some people are so susceptible to advertising. Poor saps will believe anything a commercial tells them. Not me. I come to my own conclusions. Ain't no doctor gonna tell me how long my erection should last! But those not quite as sophisticated as myself may still be taken in by some of the following overused advertising stock phrases, no matter how often they show up.

See the list HERE.


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Keeping Up Is Hard To Do

Insert obvious joke here.

The following was originally published in the March 18 edition of the Dayton Daily News. It's an important piece of writing about an important topic. Please try to pay attention.

Great news! Unemployment numbers remain at record levels with no real end in sight.

Man, those jobless really got it made. Lunches at fancy restaurants. Shopping. Various cosmetic procedures. I don’t understand what all the fuss over the out-of-work is about. Seems to me they’re living quite comfortably.

Yes, if the Kardashians are an accurate gauge, there’s never been a better time to contribute less to society.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, the family took in $65 million in 2010. And why not? Besides every person you know, chimpanzees, children, large kitchen appliances, most breeds of dog, candlesticks, Paris Hilton and many robots, who else could have done the things they did?

Exhibit A: their show, “Keeping Up With the Kardashians.” It’s in its sixth season (just let that sink in) on E!

That’s E! Entertainment Television. “Entertainment” is right there in the name. They wouldn’t put something on the air if it wasn’t entertaining. It’s not E! “Stupid Garbage Television.” Not yet, at least.

Why has the show been such a huge success? Mother and manager Kris Jenner has an idea.

“There’s someone here for everyone to relate to,” she said.

Yes. I identify so strongly with Kourtney’s baby, Mason. In that being around these people would also make me want to cry and soil myself.

“I’ve had so many people come over to me and say, ‘I remember the episode where you were crying over blah, blah, blah and it helped me so much and I got through my dad’s death because of you,” she continued.

So true. There’s nothing more cathartic than watching rich people get into fights at nightclubs and then further discuss those fights in individual, dead-behind-the-eyes confessional interviews were they exhibit no vocal inflection of any kind. I can’t think of a better way to honor the memory of a lost loved one and value the precious gift of life.

But you don’t make $65 million just by being a coping mechanism. You make it by standing in front of a blowing fan, having your picture taken and then slapping that picture on everything humanly possible.

Kardashian Silly Bandz? Done. Could Pogs be next?

Kardashian book? Done. “Kardashian Konfidential” was a best seller, bigger than Oprah recommending the Bible.

Kardashian water? In the works. It’s just like regular water but it offers nothing beneficial. Actually, it’s just an empty bottle. It costs $7.95.

On Twitter, Kim can make $25,000 just by mentioning a business in her tweets. You mean, she doesn’t really choose Lowe’s for all of her weekend DIY home improvement projects?

“Unbreakable,” a unisex fragrance from Khloé and husband Lamar Odom, just came out and will likely be a huge hit. After all, who doesn’t want a romantic partner that smells exactly them? Just ask this appetizing commercial.



“Kardashian Khaos” is opening this year at the Mirage in Las Vegas, serving as a one-stop destination where people who hate themselves can buy every product currently endorsed by a Kardashian. It also furthers the family’s commitment to cleverly replacing the “C” at the beginning of words appearing after their name with a “K.” A concept most children would need at least 48 seconds to think of.

Worried this could all be too much of a good thing? As usual, the Kardashians are way ahead of you.

“We definitely worry about overexposure,” Jenner said. “We never want to get to a place where people are thinking, ‘Enough is enough.’ ”

Yeah, and I heard when you get to that place, you don’t even realize you’re there. Freaky.

Image via.


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Happy St. Patrick's Day from Uncle O'Grimacey

40% drunker than original Grimace

After vomiting on yourself and vomiting on someone standing near you, consuming McDonald's Shamrock Shakes is America's most celebrated St. Patrick's Day Tradition. A close fourth is vomiting Shamrock Shake on someone standing near you.

And since people (read: hippies) have become so interested in where their food comes from these days, I thought this the perfect time to explain where your Shamrock Shakes come from. There is a man, a great man, who is responsible for all the Shamrock Shakes ingested in this country. Legend has it that he hand delivers them from Ireland to his morbidly obese American nephew every year, who then distributes what he doesn't polish off to participating McDonald's locations.

That man's name is Uncle O'Grimacey.



Now, I know what you're thinking. "Hey, if Uncle O'Grimacey is so great, how come I never see him around?" Well you've got some damn nerve. Ever think about the fact that McDonald's is run by a jealous, insecure clown who refuses to cede the spotlight, even for the limited time of limited time only promotions? Or the fact that they're a sinister, shadowy corporation out for its own interests without a passing thought about whose shillelagh they have to step on to get to the top?

From Wikipedia:

He was created in 1977 and even appeared in 1986 for an advertising narrative of McDonald's both in celebration of Saint Patrick's Day and to mark the annual appearance of the Shamrock Shake ... O'Grimacey resides in his home country for eleven months of the year and visits his nephew Grimace in March, bringing with him his "incredibly delicious" shake. Uncle O'Grimacey is no longer used by the chain for its promotions of the shake.

That's suspiciously matter of fact, McDonald's. Care to elaborate? What are you hiding? Could it be that Uncle O'Grimacey hasn't been seen since 1986 because he was ... MURDERED?!

Where's Uncle O'Grimacey?! Where is he?! If he's alive I will find him and I swear on Mayor McCheese's head, if you hurt him, there will be hell to pay. The Hamburglar will be the least of your worries.

I demand you show us Uncle O'Grimacey, McDonald's. Prove to us that he is okay. Then, and only then, will I end this crusade. You've seen what's happened all over the Middle East when people have had enough. Don't think that because you've largely rendered the American population inert that such a movement can't be organized here. It might just take a little longer for us to get out of our chairs, that's all.

I await your prompt response. Happy St. Patrick's Day.


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Lists That Actually Matter: Five Ways NPR Can Survive Without Government Funding

Yours free for reading my list.

Fellow boring white people, assemble! NPR is in danger of losing its government funding. Whether you're all for that or totally against it, there's one thing we can all agree on: enchiladas is tasty. Now that we've established some common ground, let's try to find a way for listeners like you and me to make up our main Ira Glass delivery system's potential budget shortfall.

Read the list HERE.

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Separation of Church and Fake

The following was originally published in the February 18 edition of the Dayton Daily News and was made possible, as are all things, by the grace of John Travolta and Tom Cruise.

The Church of Scientology has its fair share of well-documented detractors. Those people are just jealous.

And who wouldn’t be with some of the amazing membership benefits that have recently come to light in an article in The New Yorker?

First, actor Josh Brolin discussed the time when, in “a moment of real desperation,” he visited the church’s Celebrity Centre. What, your church doesn’t have one?

So much like your church it's scary.

Brolin decided Scientology just wasn’t for him after receiving his “auditing.” And who can blame him? Getting together all of those receipts is exhausting.

Oh, it says here that in Scientology, “auditing” is a sort of spiritual counseling session. Well, still sounds painful.

So Josh says it’s not his thing. OK, fine. To each his own. But imagine how red his face must have been when a few years later he was at a dinner party with John Travolta and in walked Marlon Brando with a painful cut on his leg, sustained after helping a stranded motorist on the Pacific Coast Highway. That’s when, according to Brolin, Travolta sprang into action, offering to help and saying that he had just “reached a new level.” Then Travolta proceeded to touch the cut leg as Brando closed his eyes.

“Then, after ten minutes,” Brolin explains, “Brando opens his eyes and says, ‘That really helped. I actually feel different!’ ”

Wow. That is a miracle. Marlon Brando actually left his house. I thought that sort of thing only happened in the movies. Glory to John in the highest!

And don’t worry about the fact that Brando didn’t say anything about feeling better. He felt “different,” which is essentially the same thing when you think about it. He felt bad, then he felt different. Better is different than bad. See, now don’t you feel different?

Through his lawyer, Travolta calls the story “pure fabrication,” but what’s he going to say? If he reveals that he is, in fact, a healer, he’d have people coming up to him constantly asking him to lay hands upon them. It’s just not practical.

Then there’s the story about John Brosseau, an ex-Scientologist and Tom Cruise staffer, who was ordered by church leader David Miscavigealong to construct a custom limousine for the star, as well as two motorcycles and an airport hangar. You know, the things every church has fellow parishioners make for each other.

Although, “ordered” makes it sound like they were toiling away with no reward, when in fact Brosseau says each person on the project was paid $50 a week and was assured they were “working for the betterment of mankind.” Glory to Tom in the highest!

If that’s the case, accepting $50 a week seems greedy and excessive on the part of Brosseau and the other staffers. Shame on them. If you’re truly working on a limo that will serve to advance humanity, how dare you accept compensation?

And from a church, no less. They’re probably struggling to scrape together the funds for a new community center and you put them in a position like that?

In a final example of the religion’s clear, not at all baseless benefits, actress Kirstie Alley proclaims she would be dead if it wasn’t for Scientology.

“Without Scientology, I would be dead,” she said. See, told you.

She says the religion helped her “lose her craving for cocaine.” Evidently, church leaders are still working on transferring this amazing power into the realm of Hostess snack cakes.

That must be at the next level.

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Lists That Actually Matter: Top 5 Habits of the Annoying Driver

"So, is this your first time? Driving! I mean driving!"

I drive to work. If you drive to work, chances are I hate you. Because chances are, you do one of these five things, if not two or three of them. And if you do, I don't wish harm or an untimely end on you, as some other, less measured people might. On the contrary, I hope you have many years ahead, just with an unexplained tickle in your anus that never goes away. I hope you spend years seeing doctors and trying to treat it with hundreds of pungent creams and ointments that make maintaining any level of intimacy with your significant other nearly impossible. But you stay together for your kids, who, by the way, will start telling friends that you're dead because it's easier than telling them the truth. Then the discomfort gets to the point where sitting, even with a specially designed doughnut pillow, is an unpleasant experience and you have to stop driving to work. Either that or your car breaks down. Whatever gets you off the road.

See the list HERE.

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Chemical Charlie

The following was originally published in the March 4 edition of the Dayton Daily News. Inject it directly into your bloodstream to enjoy the hilarity more immediately. 

Moments later, he snorted one up each nostril.

I think we can all agree that the time for somebody to call out Thomas Jefferson is long overdue.

That’s why I was so pleased to hear a recent interview on a syndicated radio program that apparently exists called The Alex Jones Show with the totally, completely, really sober Charlie Sheen.

In the interview, Sheen covered everything from the creator of Two and a Half Men, Chuck Lorre (a “clown” and a “turd”), to his dad Martin Sheen (“Quit panicking.”) to that scourge Jefferson.

“He was a p---y,” an obviously clearheaded Sheen suggested of the third president of the United States.

Thank you. It’s about time that somebody put Thomas Jefferson in his place. The man has gotten a pass for far too long. He was a namby-pamby even by his day’s powdered wig-wearing standards and I’m glad somebody finally said it.

Now before you dismiss this as just the ramblings of the same wild, out-of-control Charlie Sheen you remember from way back in the early last weeks, you should know that he’s completely sober now. I know because he said so.

Just not in so many words. Or, I guess not in that word, “sober.” Because that word is for “sissies.” Like Thomas Jefferson!

But he is cured, even though what he had was not, as his father had suggested in recent interviews, a disease.

“I have a disease? Bulls--t. I cured it with my brain,” Charlie said.

I don’t think I have to explain to you what this revelation, if true, could mean for the fields of disease prevention and medical research. This could be a huge breakthrough. The one we’ve been waiting years for.

Of course, Charlie Sheen’s Brain is not right for everyone, so be sure to consult your physician before starting a regimen. Side effects include sore liver, junkie face, drunkenstumblebum and ol’ sunken eyes.

Women who have dignity or may develop dignity should not take Charlie Sheen’s Brain. Stop taking Charlie Sheen’s Brain immediately if you develop nosebleeds or thoughts of destroying a hotel room or a marriage, as these could be a signs of a more serious problem.

Oh, and don’t you think for a second that Sheen’s new clean lifestyle had anything to do with Alcoholics Anonymous, that “bootleg cult founded by an LSD addict who wrote a book of lies.”

“Their success rate is only five percent,” he said. “Compared to [my] success rate of 100 percent. Do the math!”

I did. My numbers came out inconclusive. I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to be adding, subtracting, multiplying or dividing though.

“I’m so tired of pretending like my life isn’t perfect and b--chin’ and just winning every second,” Sheen continued, saying that he was tired of dealing with people like you. All the “fools and trolls whose judgment and stupidity comes from having to lay down with their ugly wives in front of their ugly children and just look at their loser lives.”

Yeah, you probably like Thomas Jefferson, too.

But the good news is, just because you’re awful and probably worth more to your ugly loved ones dead than alive, there is a cure.

Talk to your doctor about Charlie Sheen’s brain today, so you can stop sucking and start winning every second.

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Lists That Actually Matter: Eight Forgotten Facial Hair Successes of 90s Chicago Baseball

Not pictured: George's Hennessy

The 1990s were a tumultuous time in baseball. Labor strife wiped out the 1994 postseason. Steroid use was widespread amongst many marquee players. Expansion teams were added despite the fact that their uniforms contained numerous shades of purple and/or teal. But it wasn't all bad. The 1990s were a golden age for attractive facial hair throughout major league clubhouses. And nowhere was that more evident than in Chicago, a town that appreciates a good mustache as much as it does a well cased meat. So who stood out in a diverse field of distinguished gentlemen?

See the list HERE.


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Dear Tony: Take My Advice Before I Force It Upon You

Amateur.

My friends and loved ones are always coming to me for advice. They'll ask, "How do I get you to go away?" or "What would it take for you to leave me and my family alone?" I must be doing something right, because they continue to come back to me over and over with questions just like these. Knowing that, how can I, in good conscience, keep my gift of guidance away from all of the people out there who are in search of direction. It would be a crime.

So I've decided to start answering the thousands upon thousands of letters that come pouring in from people around the country in need of a nudge in the right direction. To Dear Abby. Sorry, I left that part off. The thousands upon thousands of letters that come pouring in to Dear Abby.

See the problem is, nobody sends me letters seeking advice ... yet. So until tomorrow when everybody has seen what I can do and my inbox fills up with advice seekers, I'll just have to cherry pick off of Abby. Whose real name is actually Jeanne Phillips, by the way. Seems kind of strange, no? Someone whom you're supposed to trust implicitly with a major life decision can't even do you the courtesy of giving you their real name? Just know that whatever your problem, you can always put your trust in me, Dr. Fredrick J. Sotheby III, Esq. On to the letters:

DEAR ABBY TONY: Our son has not spoken to us in 2 1/2 years. This isn't the first time it has happened. When we are asked how he and his family are doing and where they are living, we don't know how to respond. What do we say when meeting someone new and they ask whether we have children?

If we answer that we have one son, a number of questions are sure to follow for which we don't have answers. Can you offer some appropriate responses to these questions that don't require having to say, "We don't know"? -- NEEDS AN ANSWER IN VIRGINIA

DEAR NEEDS AN ANSWER: This is a tricky one because no one likes to have awkward conversations, especially regarding such a sensitive family issue. Say you're at a party and you're talking to someone you know. Your best bet is to concoct stories about your son that ensure people will want to avoid asking any follow up questions. For example:

Nosy friend: How is Billy?
You: He's an abortion doctor.
Nosy friend: (voice full of regret) Um, I ... I think I'm going to grab a few more of these finger sandwiches.

Or, in the case of a person you don't know asking about your family:

Nosy stranger: Do you have any kids?
You: No, better. I have kitties!

In either case, you've sent a clear message that you are a person with which all conversation should be avoided. Pretty hard to answer questions about your estranged son when nobody wants to speak to you. Problem solved.

DEAR ABBY TONY: My best friend "Diane" and I have known each other since we were children. She has always had difficulty in her relationships with men. In the last three years, she has begun dating married men. She was sure the latest one was the man of her dreams, but it was short-lived and destroyed his marriage. Diane rationalizes what she's doing by saying the men will cheat anyway, so why not with her?

Diane is now in love with someone new. If he leaves his wife and children for her, this will be another home Diane has helped break up. She wants my blessings and for me to get along with her boyfriend. Being a married woman and a mother, I sympathize with the wives of these men.

Why has my best friend become a home wrecker? What can I do to avoid being pulled into this affair without losing her friendship? -- MORALLY COMPROMISED IN MICHIGAN

DEAR MORALLY COMPROMISED: I'm sorry, I kind of zoned out there after your first sentence.  I apologize. Totally my fault. I didn't do it on purpose. I just really don't care about some random lady's friends, you know? Is that bad? That's probably bad. At least in this forum, I guess. OK, tell you what, give me a minute to skim your letter and get the gist of it, then I'll come back and tell you what I think ...

All right, I'm back. So, your friend Diane, she sounds nice. But if she's trying to keep you from dating married men, you have to tell her to butt out. Try softening that request by adding "Buttinsky" at the end. You'll both get a good laugh and she'll completely forget that you slept with her husband.

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Is It News: Gay Man Holds Baby Edition

BREAKING:

Is this news? I don't know, is there any sort of photographic proof?

So it's true! Verdict: News.

Via

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Like Mother, Like Tiger

The following was originally published in the February 4 edition of the Dayton Daily News and has been credited with single-handedly saving the newspaper industry.

You’re all worthless and weak.

And there’s a reason for it. Your mom.

Ha, ha, ha, no friend, I assure you I haven’t filled this column with a series of Wilmer Valderrama approved “Yo Momma” jokes, each more cutting and “aw snap” inducing than the next. Though, as is the case every week, I thought about it.

Instead, we’re going to talk about the phenomenon that is being a “tiger mother.” If you haven’t heard of it, allow me to tiger mom upside yo head for a second: You are stupid. Why don’t you read more, you lazy slug?

Undoctored photo

Boom, tiger mom’d.

See? It’s the verbally abusive parenting sensation that’s sweeping the nation! Only in this case, China is the nation.

Now it’s been introduced to America by Yale law professor Amy Chua in her much-talked-about book “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.” Being a tiger mother involves putting extremely strict, some would say draconian, methods that are commonplace in China into practice when raising a child in the Western world.

In the book, Chua details incidents like the time she called her daughter “garbage,” the time she threatened to burn all of her daughter’s stuffed animals and the time she threw a hand-drawn birthday card back at her daughter explaining, “I deserve better than this. So I reject this.” Cherished family memories, each of them.

The card incident is amazing. I’ve received countless crudely drawn birthday cards in my life, some even from children. I had no idea you could reject them. I’ve been accepting them this whole time, and saying thank you. I’m so weak. I blame you, mom.

That’s it. From now on, when somebody, regardless of age, fails to meet my expectations, I’m definitely going to turn into a tiger. Not literally, like attorney Doug Mann of Dyer, Garofalo, Mann and Schultz does when you’ve been in an accident that’s no fault of your own, but psychologically. After all, why should kids have all the crippling mental breakdowns fun?

But those with children are probably sitting at home right now wondering if being a tiger parent is right for them. Well, just take this handy 12-question survey to find out.

SO YOU’VE DECIDED TO EAT YOUR YOUNG …
Please circle all that apply:

1. I am a tiger and/or I have stripes. (If yes, congratulations, your survey is complete.)

2. The sound of children’s laughter fills me with rage.

3. If a child has time to sleep, they have time to practice violin.

4. If a child has time to practice violin, they have time to solve complex mathematical equations.

5. If children have time to cry, they have time to do both simultaneously while I spit watermelon seeds at their heads.

6. Sleepovers are not allowed, even if a child’s cage is large enough for two.

7. I will choose all of my child’s extracurricular activities. Whether they actually enjoy cobbling is of no concern to me.

8. Fire says more than words ever could.

9. Birthday parties are nothing more than a vehicle for superfluous cake and/or cheerful singing.

10. Cake and cheerful singing fill me with rage.

11. If a child wants to play house, they can climb on the roof and clean out the gutters.

12. When times are hard, I draw strength from the vial of my children’s tears I wear around my neck.


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Lists That Actually Matter: Top 10 Ugliest Features of Impossibly Attractive People

Oh, hey. Just having my bare chested afternoon tea.

It's day three of Ugly Week here at Lists That Actually Matter and my fellow heartthrobs and I couldn't be happier with the results. But as we approach the mid-point of Ugly Week (a most solemn and reflective time) we also want to be very clear that ugliness is not confined to just outward appearances. Beauty is only skin deep, you know? And underneath is a bunch of blood and poop and connective tissue that would make you gag if you had to look at it regularly, Slim Goodbody notwithstanding. But there are many other ways in which otherwise attractive people can ugly themselves up.

See the list HERE.


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A Message to My Nonexistent, Unborn Future Children About Googling Their Father

Hi kid(s), it's daddy. Well, you're here so I assume we've avoided that whole universally infertile Children of Men society, which is good.

I'll also assume that since you're here you've Googled my name. Hey, before we get to that, is your homework done? Then what the hell are you doing messing around online?! I assume we've already had this discussion and hence, I do not want to have it again. Do you want me to take away your cell phone(s), provided such things still exist when you're reading this and doctors haven't just started implanting communication chips into children's brains at birth? Don't roll your eyes at me young lady/ladies/man/men. Don't think you won't be spanked, if I'm still alive and you're not yet at an age where it would be peculiar to do so. Go to your room.

No, wait. I'm sorry. Come back here, kiddo(s). Have a seat. I'm glad you're here. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about and, as with most aspects of parenting, it's much easier to let a machine do the legwork rather than address it with you directly.

OK, so you've Googled me. Listen, I want to be straight with you about this so you understand what daddy was doing when he wrote the things you may have come across in your searches. So here goes.

You've probably noticed some vulgarity and other words used that I've forbidden you from using yourself. You've also probably found reference to topics that I've deemed unsuitable for discussion at the dinner table or elsewhere. Now before you label me a hypocrite, I think it's important that I be totally honest and forthcoming with you. A frank and open discussion is what this all about. I think you can handle it.

I want you to know that each of those words was carefully chosen for a very specific reason. And that reason is that I worked on behalf of the U.S. government, sending confidential coded messages to intelligence forces around the world who were out there defending our freedom against those who wished to destroy it. (Get home safe, guys!) Mom was involved, too. That scar on her cheek she always said was from a dog bite? Uh-uh. Knife fight, Chechen rebels, Moscow subway tunnel. She got out. The rebels ... *puts on sunglasses* ... missed their stop.

As far as my role, it was simple, really. In a typical post, every third letter of every seventh word corresponded with that letter's position in the alphabet. Those numbers communicated a set of global coordinates for a rendezvous point where an agent would find his or her horse for that mission. Attached to the saddle would be directions to a safe. The horse would then be blindfolded (can't take any chances) and the two would ride under cover of darkness to their destination. Upon arrival, the agent would open the safe by using another code, this one made up of the last letter of the last word of every sentence in the post with an odd number of words.

Once inside the safe, agents would find the basics for each mission: a dossier containing a detailed profile of his or her target(s) as well as the standard issue laser watch, ninja throwing star belt buckle, cyanide pill cuff links, fake mustaches and Tide-to-Go stain removal pen.

At that point, the horse was shot (again, can't take any chances) and my knowledge of the mission objectives ended.

Ah, it feels good to finally be honest with you. You see, don't you feel silly for thinking ill of your old man now? This was all for the good of the country, and to protect your future. Of course, in an ironic twist, now that you know all of this, you'll have to be killed.

Let this be a lesson to you. Never question your father under any circumstances. But I'm still glad we had this talk, kiddo(s). Hey, who wants ice cream for their last meal?


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Highlights and Lowlights from New York Fashion Week: An Insider's Guide to Fabulous

Another New York Fashion Week has come and gone, and what a week it was! Easily the best this reporter has ever seen. And as usual, it ran the gamut, from the practicality of Zander Nouveau's ready-to-wear furniture to the surreal, post-apocalyptic sundresses from Thom Guzzardo. 

By the time we arrived at the closing ceremony, where garments deemed unsuitable or unnecessary are burned in front of a group of needy families, there were enough moments, memories and styles to last a lifetime. Or at least a trend cycle!

We certainly saw a little bit of everything this year. A collection made entirely of baby hair? Check. The return of Velcro shoes? Check. Avian models? Yep, had those too (pulled off, as regular readers likely guessed, by the visionaries at Boysenberry). In are powdered wigs and capri shirts. Out are neck braces and two-tone leather hats.

So who were the big winners and losers? As you might guess with a subject this open to interpretation, opinions are varied. It's like we in the business always say, "One man's sock, is another man's thumbless mitten." But as usual, there were plenty of obvious hits and misses. Here are some who distinguished themselves, for better or worse.

Winners
Ö
The German prodigy had his detractors coming in to this week. "Too raw," they said. "Too daffy." He silenced them. A show featuring models slathered in honey straddling hibernating bears will do that. The honey could have made properly lighting the intricately embroidered dickies a real headache, but it was pulled off with aplomb. Sorry naysayers, Ö is a rising star. Get yourself a telescope.


Sandra Fernandez Sanchez Rodriguez
Fernandez Sanchez Rodriguez thrilled us (what else is new?) with her gritty Adobe Tree House collection. Partially inspired by her working class youth spent rock farming in southern Arizona, it's shabby chic meets shabby. The eco-friendly garments are constructed of 90% recycled dirt clumps and cannot be sweat in or worn in precipitation.


Serfs
Not the Norwegian thread house located in the fishing village of Fjellværsøya, but the actual low level assistants who normally spend much of Fashion Week alternating corners in which to quietly weep. But I cannot recall a year when I saw fewer reduced to tears. By this reporter's count, only two headsets were broken backstage, and only one was purposely bashed over someone's skull. So for the first time in my 18 years of attending this event, I can say: good for you, sad, poorly compensated disposables doing all of the actual work.

Horatio Fellatio
His codpieces have been talked about in underground circles for decades, but they've only recently gained mainstream recognition. It's much deserved and long overdue. The intricate feathering and hand stitching on his Dream Catcher line is unlike anything else available in the world of crotch pouches. So breathtaking was the presentation that Target made an immediate bid to carry the collection in their stores. Will it be palatable to the masses? Who cares. It's the definition of fierce.


Losers
Thor Sanskrit
Sanskrit's backstory is well documented. Born eight months premature with only half an eye, he was mistakenly placed in a trash bin outside the hospital where he still lives to this day. He began studying at the knee of legendary designer Jeffery St. George at age 12, so he has the pedigree. But half an eye or not, there's no excuse for the translucent inseam on his otherwise marvelous stirrup bodysuits.


Fever Dream
Ever the promotional innovators, Brooklyn duo Fever Dream began a viral marketing blitz surrounding their pet project, Unperfect, months in advance of their show. The buzz coming in was considerable. Some said it was a collection of leather neckties for women. Others said scarves that were acually venomous snakes. But the collection was revealed to be nothing more than a reinterpretation of their already popular macramé turtlenecks. Seen it.


Bertrams & Van Nord
Pierce Bertrams and Giles Van Nord have outfitted everyone from Ke$ha to the Archduke of Liechtenstein. They're firmly established in the consciousness of both the culturally elite and the general public. They're untouchable. Teflon. And that's the problem, they know it. Which explains why, when the curtain was pulled back to unveil their Troubadour "collection," there was but a rack of empty hangers there to greet a stunned audience. Brilliant. But then, the hangers never made their way down the catwalk. Were they plastic? Metal? Could they have been wood? Or maybe they had those clips on them that almost never work? I wish I could tell you. We never got a good look. Pure hubris.


Yoshi Han Yoshi
This was supposed to be the cult fashion icon's arrival on the grandest stage, but all in attendance agreed this one missed the mark. Going with a pilgrim theme was risky. Also making them clowns was even riskier. Sorry, Yoshi. We could have overlooked the buckle shoes if they weren't also comically oversized.


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