Twittering Away Your Privacy

Wow. Six days into the new year and I've already come across the first human being that I want to just go away. That's right. Away. I want for this person to go away and to never be heard from again for the rest of the year. Hey, it's only 359 days. I don't think that's unreasonable. By the way, the abhorrent individual that I'd like banished from the planet is Tila Tequila.

Tila Tequila, who you may or may not care to be aware of (and you're better off if you have had no clue as to who this chick is up until now. Sorry to ruin your clueless bliss.), is "famous" for being a media whore, from what I can figure out. She managed to land a "reality show" (and in reality, it was quite a show all right. It was a show of exactly how low a human being can actually stoop for the purpose of being on TV at some point in their existence) on MTV called "A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila". Sounds classy, right? Oh, it was! It was your basic low-rent dating show, but to spice things up a bit, they made it all bisexual and stuff. So this chick had her choice of 12 or so male contestants and 12 or so female contestants. The episodes had scenes with titles such as Foam Party, Car Wash,Brandi & Rebecca Make Out and Brandi & Vanessa Shower. Oh, yeah. The epitome of classy. Can you say whoo-urr?

So basically, what you have here is your basic chick who wants to be famous but has absolutely no talent what so ever, so she uses her body (and probably the Internet to a large degree, though I'm guessing the MTV gig didn't hurt) and the "allure" of her "bisexuality" to get her "famous". Whatever. I'd prefer she go to college or something like that, but something tells me that this chick is dumber than a box of hair. Being a TV whoo-urr might be all she's got.

Tila Mezcal Tequila ends up hooking up with some chick named Casey Johnson who is an heiress to the Johnson & Johnson fortune. People like Casey Johnson should not be heiresses. They're not very heiress like. And she was one of the ones who just could not control herself due to her societal standing or whatever you want to call it. Rich. The fact that she was ridiculously rich led her to have no desire what so ever to control herself in any fashion. To give you some idea as to this woman's character, according to the gawky folks over there at Gawker, somewhere around the 1st of December, Ms. Johnson was arrested "for grand theft after stealing fancy clothes and baubles from a supermodel ex...the thief stole jewelry, shoes, 600 pages of a legal document, clothing—even her underwear. The thief also left a bizarre calling card—a used vibrator was found in her bed and a wet towel was on the floor." See? What'd I tell you? Classy. Who does stuff like that? Who doesn't hang up their towel after they've used it to dry off? I will never understand folks like that.

Is it going to come as any shock to you when I now tell you that Ms. Johnson is now dead. Correct. Dead. 30 years old and dead as a doornail. (I have no idea what that figure of speech means, but I threw it in to try and hit home that I don't give a fat rat's ass about any of the individuals in this tawdry ordeal.) As you can imagine, this came as quite a shock/surprise/(panic that she wouldn't have access to all of that money any more) for Ms. CuervoTequila. After all, the two had been "engaged" and had been calling each other their "wifey". Uh, whatever. Anyway, she was shocked so she did the only thing that someone whose "fiance" has just passed away would have done. That's right. She tweeted.

Wait. What now?

That's right. She tweeted about it. Tweeted. As on Twitter. She got on her Twitter (figuratively speaking, of course) and tweeted. What a twit. Look, I have this "rule" or whatever you want to call it for how people should act when someone dies. My "rule" is that you have free reign to act however you want to act while you deal with someone's death. You want to eat Chunky Monkey ice cream in the shower every morning because that helps you with your grief? Have at it. I won't say a word. But I think I'm going to have to amend my "rule" to "Do whatever you want except for tweet." That's my new rule. And that's why I need Tila MargaritaTequila removed from the planet as quickly as possible.

The first tweet from the grief stricken Ms. Jose Cuervo Tequila read: "Everyone please pray 4 my Wifey Casey Johnson. She has passed away. Thank u for all ur love and support but I will be offline to be w family". That was at 5:37pm on January 4th. And that seemed perfectly reasonable to me. I still abhorred Tila Tequila at that point, but not because of the tweet, just because of who she is as a person. She wasn't at "get off of the planet" status at that point. But she's going off to be with family and I can totally respect that.

And I did totally respect that right up until 6:24pm, less than an hour later, that same day when she tweeted again. Uh, what happened to being offline to be with family? The tweet read: "This is a very heartbreaking time for me. I just want some pricacy as I deal with the loss of my Fiance Casey Johnson. I'm heart is shredded". First of all, let's assume she meant privacy. And while we're at it, let's just assume she meant my instead of I'm. Now you're with me. Um, sweetie, you could have all of the privacy (or pricacy) you wanted if you'd stop freaking tweeting!


Wait! Her love of pricacy (and/or privacy) only lasted six minutes that time! At 6:30pm she becomes completely confused and tweets: "I just got news that my fiance is not dead but currently in a coma!!! Omg please pray that she will make it! Hang in there my love please!!!" I'm not sure how one goes from being dead to being in a coma, but I'm going to guess that she was either looking for drama or grief strickenly confused. (Or completely at a loss as to how she's going to pay for anything now that her heiress sugar mama has departed. It's probably one of those.)

At 6:33pm, Ms. Patron Tequila suddenly believes that those who are comatose (or who have already passed) are going to make it some sort of priority of their to check Twitter and see what's up in the tweeting world. She tweets: "I know u can feel me Casey! Dot let go! I'm almost home baby please hang on! We have a beautiful life planned out for us! I LOVE u! Hang on!" Yeah, she's not reading that. Even if you could read Twitter after you had died, why in the world would you want to? All of the stuff that you could do and you're going to see who is tweeting about what? No wonder you died. You have no life.

At 7:02pm, 1 hour and 25 minutes after the first tweet in which she stated her desire for privacy (or pricacy, we're still not real sure about that) but yet still tweeted four more times, she tweets: "I'm still in shock! Once again thank U for the outpour of love and support. I just wish to have some privacy at this heartbreaking time." You can have your damn privacy AND your pricacy all you want, but you have to pipe down FIRST!

Make her go away. Seriously. Now. Make her go away. But wait. Not before I mention something. Those two were serious partiers. Ms. Johnson had a drug problem and her family had cut off funds to her until she went to rehab and completed a stint. Ms. ShotglassTequila over there knew that the whore-ess had a drug problem and yet continued to party away with her. She certainly didn't stop her from partying. Full autopsy findings are being delayed until the infamous toxicology reports come back. I will guarantee you that this chick was likely intoxicated, had drugs in her system and I'm going to lay my money on cocaine as the drug of doom in this situation. So Tila, while you're over there looking all over Twitter for your "privacy", maybe you could also look for your human decency while you're at it because if you loved this chick as much as you say that you did, you would have helped her rather than just gone off and partied with her. Now please take yourself and your contribution to her demise and get out. We're done here. Nothing else to see.

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Dick Clark's Not So Rockin' New Year's Eve

Now, I just want to make it clear that this post is not making fun of stroke victims. I can see where it might come across that way, but that is NOT what I am doing here. If anything, I am promoting stroke prevention awareness AND I am also promoting some things being in name only. There's no reason why just because something bears someone's name that that particular person has to be actively involved in the thing, right? If you're not sure what I'm talking about, please defer answering that question until I've painted a more clear and frightening picture of said scenario.

Dick Clark is an icon. I highly doubt that there is going to be anyone out there could or would argue with that. The name Dick Clark is practically synonymous with New Year's Eve and since 1972, Clark has been the host of Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve and has counted down to the new year every single year sans the 1999 to 2000 transition and the 2004 to 2005 transition. He missed the 1999 one because it was some sort of "milestone" year. That "milestone" being the year 2000, because if you're going to have a bunch of zeroes all in a row, you get to call it a "milestone" and act like it is somehow different than all of the other years without the zeroes, even though everyone knows that it's exactly the same. But he missed the 2004 countdown because he had a stroke.

As I'm sure you all know, strokes are not good. Bad is what they are. Strokes are bad. No one is fond of the stroke. In many instances, those who are stroke stricken are usually left with some sort of impairment of bodily function. Some have difficulty walking or moving parts of their body and others have difficulty speaking without great difficulty or impediment. Many stroke victims unfortunately, have to learn how to do simple everyday functions all over again. To summarize, strokes are bad.

But while strokes are bad, ringing in a new year is supposed to be good. It's supposed to be a joyous time. It's supposed to be a time of happiness and hope and joy and all other things associated with the whole new year gala stuff thing hoopla. And while I find it extremely commendable to allow some traditions to continue on, having Dick Clark continuing to host Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve is far from happiness and hope and joy. It's depressing. Granted, it does bring up the issue of stroke prevention awareness, but that's a pretty depressing undertaking on the eve of a new year, don't you think?

Why do they continue to let this man, who was once a great speaker, but who does not speak so great now, host this show? Sure, they have pretty, pretty (and probably pretty closeted) Ryan Seacrest there to help things along, but Ryan isn't much of a help. Look, hosting that American Idol gig is cake. Who couldn't do that? You stand there, call out the names of folks and then look to three or four other people for a critique. I'm pretty sure you could train one of those rhesus monkeys to do the very same thing. Hosting American Idol is not like hosting a New Year's Eve celebration. And when you're trying to let the icon still be the icon that he was (even though he so clearly is not), well, you're really not helping the situation much at all. (Granted, I'm not sure if the rhesus monkeys would do much better in that aspect, but as overall hosts, I'm pretty sure they've got Seacrest evenly matched at the very least.)

I could understand if the entire show were geared toward an older generation that grew up with Mr. Clark and his American Bandstand or even with his variety of Pyramid shows. If Mr. Clark were introducing acts such as the Beach Boys or Simon and Garfunkel and the show was themed around the history and nostalgia of Dick Clark and was geared toward those who remember and enjoyed that Dick Clark, that would be fine. Well...fine? OK, maybe not fine. But it would at least be understandable. But with acts like those of Rihanna and some young fellow named Justin Bieber (who I'm not sure that I had ever heard of before New Year's Eve...sweet Jesus! Does that mean I'm old?!) the show is clearly not aimed toward the elderly older crowd. So why is he there? He doesn't mean anything to the 15-year olds that are watching the show. No, they're enjoying acts such as Selena Gomez and J Lo (who, if you saw her, was damn near naked, and that alone could cause one to have a stroke in and of itself) and wondering why there is an old man who has difficulty speaking hanging out with pretty, pretty rhesus monkeys Ryan Seacrest. What are they getting out of having Dick Clark host? (OK, what are they getting out of it other than the knowledge that they should regularly check their blood pressure in order to catch any early warning signs of a stroke? Other than that, what do you have for me?)

Who are the folks who just have to have Dick Clark on their TV every single New Year's Eve, even though he is difficult to understand and even though he depresses the hell out of anyone who watches. Anyone who has ever known anyone who has had a stroke will automatically think of that person when watching Dick Clark struggle to carry on an articulate conversation with his co-host. But now it's gotten to the point where it's not just that he has difficulty articulating what he is saying, but that he has trouble saying what he is saying correctly. Even if it involves something requiring seemingly as little thought as counting.

Mr. Clark began his countdown right around the 20 second mark. For the first 6 seconds of that countdown, things were fine. All of the numbers were in the correct order. I don't know what confused him, if he was, in fact, confused at all or if the part of his brain that does the counting just does work any more due to the previously mentioned stroke-age that he suffered in 2004. I don't know. All I know is that after "14", things did not go well.

It went something like this: "20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 14, 12, 10, 11, 10...." Um....what now?

Fourteen, twelve, ten, eleven, ten? Is that what he said? That's...that's not right...at all. Counting down (or up for that matter) is kind of like the alphabet. The beauty of it is that it doesn't repeat itself. That way, if you're having trouble at first, you can check them off as you go along. To repeat fourteen and ten each twice, well....that brings me back to my earlier question: What is the purpose of this?

Can't the show just bear his name and have Seacrest and the monkeys do it? There are plenty of things out there that just bear someone's name, but the person whose name is bore really has little (if anything) to do with the product itself. Mrs. Butterworth's, for example. There is no Mrs. Butterworth. She's not out there making the syrup. It just bears her name! (Is she even real? Of course not. I knew that!) Aunt Jemima and her syrup. Same concept. Dr. Scholl's is another one. He has nothing to do with those things that are shoved in your...shoes? Shoes! Colonel Sanders. His picture is on every box/bucket of chicken, but he's no longer around to serve the chicken! (Mmmm....chicken.) When the Kentucky Colonel went to that great chicken coop in the sky, did all of the KFC's around the globe suddenly cease operations? I don't think that they did! And how's the chicken taste? Delicious as always! So there's no reason why it can't be Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve without Dick Clark, right? Right!

And as long as I'm suggesting changes here, I have one more. The name. That is the most ridiculous name that anyone could have given that damn show. New Year's Rockin' Eve? What the heck is that? Shouldn't it be Rockin' New Year's Eve? Why is the rockin' all breaking up the New Year's and the Eve, there? I don't get it. It sounds silly and they should change it. Now.

I wish Mr. Clark continued success with the marvelous progress that he's making with his recovery and I hope one day that he can once again do the countdown without repeating any of the numbers. Just like old times! That'll bring back some memories, won't it? When the last few seconds of the old year didn't consist of fourteen, twelve, ten, eleven, ten?! Good times. Good times indeed.

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No One Wants To See That

As I'm sure you've probably heard, some jackass following in the footsteps (as the Weird Beard followers do) of other al Qaida losers thought he was trying to blow up a plane on Christmas Day as it flew in for landing in Detroit. Now, I've been to Detroit, so I can understand the feeling of wanting to off yourself upon approach, but bringing a plane load of people along with you is really unnecessary. I mean, they might not be thrilled about the idea either, but it's their choice. It's really not up to an inept terrorist to make that decision.

Here's the thing. Despite this guy's complete moronic-ness (made that up), it could have been a total disaster. Planes blowing up are usually nothing short of total disaster. And it's really not clear to me why it didn't work. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had the bomb woven or strapped or sewn or something into his underwear. Behold!

Wow. I'm a little surprised that he chose the groinal region to conceal an explosive device. After all, men are so touchy/feely about their grundles (there's probably a pun in there somewhere), the thought of any harm coming to it usually causes them to recoil immediately and gasp in horror. But I'm guessing that he chose that region because it would likely go undetected with any sort of normal, non-invasive pat-down that is sometimes administered as an attempt to feign some sort of safety measure for those who are flying. That's probably a given. What isn't really so much a given is whether or not these inadequate measures provide enough security to folks that are traveling by way of the airs that they really feel secure, or if it's the way that I suspect and that it doesn't do much of anything, but when you're the one flying and barely being patted down, you prefer not to think about the fact that it's useless and you could be seated next to a maniac with a bomb strapped to his grundle.

Anyway, the point of this is that even though this guy got on the plane in a different country (Amsterdam, I believe) that is reason for the US to heighten their security measures at airports. Now, I don't have a problem with that. Anything that we can do to help planes and the people on them become less 'splode-y, I'm all for it. And what's not to be for? Flying? Good. Flying safely? Good. Flying without getting blown to smithereens at 20,000 feet? Gooooood!! But have you heard what they're doing?

According to the folks over there at MSNBC.com "All travelers flying into the U.S. from 14 nations considered high risk will be patted down and have carry-on luggage searched under new security procedures starting Monday."

::: blink ::: ::: blink :::

I'm sorry...starting when? Monday? Monday. This Monday? Tomorrow, Monday? THAT Monday? Monday? Perhaps the TSA was not aware that this guy tried to blow up this plane on Christmas Day. Um, that was nine days ago. NINE days. And NOW, NINE days later, NOW they've decided that folks from the sand lands (Oh, come on! You know that's what they mean! They're not doing this with the French!) will be searched?! It took them nine days to come to that conclusion?! What's wrong with nine hours? Why did it take so long? Actually, why in the world weren't we already doing this? In case no one has noticed, we're kind of in the middle of a couple of wars with those sorts of countries. The Iraq. The Afghanistan. Both high risk. Both war zones. It would not seem unusual to have had these policies instituted...oh, say...right around...September 12, 2001? What is going on over there at the TSA? Nine days? Seriously?

In case you're wondering (or preparing for a stint on Jeopardy!) the 14 nations are referred to as being "Afghanistan, Algeria, Iraq, Lebanon, Libya, Nigeria, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Somalia and Yemen." The article at MSNBC says that those countries "...are on the list as countries of interest." Countries of interest? What the heck is a country of interest? Is that like how when some guy's wife disappears and it's totally obvious that he did it (a la Scott Peterson) but they just don't have enough to pin it on them just yet so they call them a "person of interest"? Is that what's going on here? Are we so soft that we have to call these God forsaken lands "countries of interest"? Huh. I can't imagine why we're not winning this thing sooner. Way to make the whole country sound like a pussy there, TSA. And if you were still able to count after reading that and realizing that there were only 10, the other four are "Cuba, Iran, Sudan and Syria" because "...they have long been identified as "state sponsors of terrorism" by the United States.

CUBA?! Cuba. We're calling Cuba a "state sponsor of terrorism" but we're calling freaking Pakistan a "country of interest"? Oh, we are so doomed. (I need more alligators for my moat.) Are they kidding? Well, hopefully they're coming up with something other than just catchy titles for places to keep us safe. Hopefully they've got a little bit more than that. What about screening procedures? Anything new there?

Glad you asked. According to The Washington Post the number of full body imaging machines (think really big X-ray) at airports is increasing. The machines "...scan passengers' bodies and produce X-ray-like images that can reveal objects concealed beneath clothes." It's been that if the Undiebomber had gone through one that it would have most likely revealed his extra package he had concealed in his package area. And even though it's an X-ray, I don't think that there's a whole lot to worry about as far as feeling like you're going through some sort of virtual strip search. Do you feel violated when you have a regular X-ray or MRI? It's the same thing. And it would make stuff a whole lot safer and easier. Whew! I'm glad that's in the works. What now? People have a problem with this? Oh, good Lord, what's wrong now?

Well, if you're asking a one Kate Hanni, the founder of FlyersRights.org, she'll tell you that "The price of liberty is too high" and that "...the full-body scanners may not catch the criminals and will subject the rest of us to intrusive and virtual strip searches." Oh, for cryin' out loud, what is wrong with you, woman? Does this look too intrusive?! Does it?! Behold!

Of course it doesn't! What about this? Behold!

Oh, look! A gun! And you're telling me that the price of liberty is too high? I'm looking at my chart here (and that gun) and the price of liberty does not seem to be quite as high as the price of life. Life? Extremely valuable on my chart. Liberty? Definitely a close second. The founding fathers even had it in that order. Life, liberty, justice for all. Maybe you've heard of it. Anyway, I have no idea what she's talking about. Do you really care if someone sees an X-ray version of yourself? I can't imagine that you do, but if you do, please tell me why because I don't get it. It's not like you're getting Playboy centerfold images here. Please. And an invasion of privacy? Spare me. Have you flown lately? It's like a leper colony on most planes. Do you think that anyone really wants to invade any of those folks privacy to the point of having to see them sans clothing? I don't think that we do!

Really, I think that the only issue with the full body screening system is what we're going to pay the screeners. Because let's face it, they're going to be looking at some pretty gnarly folks going through those things. They're going to need a higher than average salary and an extra week of vacation time. Their insurance plan is going to have to include excellent vision coverage. (I worry that some might close their eyes so tightly after a few years of having to look at so many people that you really don't want to look at with clothes on, let alone scanned, that they could cause permanent damage to their ocular facilities. They're going to need Botox also. All of that eye closing could really induce facial wrinkles at a much faster than normal rate. Ooh! Hair plugs, too!)

And in the end, what are we really talking about here? Not getting blown up, that is correct. You want me to strip naked and do a cartwheel through that little metal detector gate thing? If that's going to assure me that I'm going to land at my destination in one piece and not being scattered across a tri-state area in bite sized bits, I'm all for it. Hold my shoes and stand back. I never was very good at cartwheels. (Helmets! Those screeners are going to need some helmets as well!)

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The De-Evolution of Sleepy Meth Man

Wow. It is only the third of January, a mere three days into a brand new year and I think that we have a front runner for Dumbass of the Year. And I'm not trying to get your hopes up or anything here, but this guy could be hard to beat.

Surprisingly, this formidable candidate does not hail from the great state of Flori-duh, but rather it's a place called Murfreesboro, Tennessee which he calls home. According to WSMV-TV, a 31-year old and old enough to know better Nathan E. Beasley decided to put his love for chemistry to use by cooking himself up a batch of methamphetamine. Crystal meth, if you will. That's dumb in and of itself. But Mr. Beasley must have been an aspiring chemist with a rather busy schedule and didn't appear to have the time (Translation: He's King of the Morons) to set up a proper stationary meth lab in his parent's basement (I'm picturing parents with a basement in this scenario). What to do, what to do? It's a head scratcher all right. But leave it to Mr. Beasley to come up with a solution. That's right. He just put the meth lab in his vehicle. Wait. What now?

Actually, let me clarify that statement a bit. He didn't just put the meth lab in his vehicle and toted it around town with him. No, he was operating the meth lab in his vehicle. That is correct. Making meth on the go. For that drug fiend with a tight schedule. Seriously, sir, what in the world is wrong with you? Well, plenty from what I can tell (and I'm not done yet)!

This little stunt alone would put Mr. Beasley in the running for Dumbass of the Year. He's clearly a contestant. But what has him as the easy front runner on the third day of the new year is that he was operating his mobile meth lab whilst he was parked at a gas station. That's right. He pulled this vehicle, which was chocked full of chemicals that were combining and reacting with each other in a process that can cause things to get a little explode-y from time to time, right up to the gas pumps. Gas. Hmmm. Hey, wait ! Isn't gasoline another highly flammable and highly explosive chemical? I believe it is! A genius this man is! Sheer genius. But wait! There's more!

Wait. More?

More. Much, much more.

Methamphetamine is known for its ability to keep its user awake for days on end. Thus, in a twist of irony that probably no one saw coming, while pulled up at the gas pumps and cooking meth in his vehicle, Mr. Beasley fell asleep. Dun-dun-dunnnnnnnn!

Are you kidding me?! He fell asleep?! ASLEEP?! You've got a trunk load of meth there, boy! And you're dozing off while your hazardous chemical reaction going on there just bubbles away (I picture it bubbling) and endangers everyone within a five mile radius should that thing explode at a gas station?! You're the worst meth maker on the go ever.

It was when Mr. Beasley had been passed out for over an hour that the attendant at the gas station called the police. According to the Murfreesboro Post, Mr. Beasley was "...unresponsive inside the vehicle in the driver's position" and "...Officers quickly noticed he was in the process of cooking methamphetamine in the rear of the vehicle." Soooo....wait. They "quickly noticed" this incredible show of asshattery going on? Does that mean that it wasn't in the trunk? Does that mean that he was doing this in the back seat?! I ask you again, what in the world is wrong with you, sir?! A spokesman, a one Kyle Evans, said "The fluids in the bottles were in the process of chemical reaction and were actively cooking.” Good Lord. What a moron.

And what I find almost equally moronic (almost equally, but not quite because I don't think that you can really top that) is the headline that the Murfreesboro Post went with. "Police resuce man from meth lab in car". Wait. What? Rescue? Rescue?! They didn't rescue him. They woke him up! It's not like the meth lab was attacking him or anything! He fell asleep! Rescue? Really, Murfreesboro Post? Really?

So what have we learned? Too much, if you're asking me. But basically, the key element that we've learned here isthat if you're going to manufacture methamphetamine in your car, you should probably do a little bit of it first so that you don't fall asleep in front of the gas pumps and then find yourself being awakened by the authorities as the Hazmat folks dismantle the potential bomb that you have bubbling in the backseat. Anything else that you've learned in addition to that is simply gravy. Charles Darwin may now go on vacation. His work is done here.

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Happy Effin New Year

Finally! Finally! The holidays are over! Technically I don't have to speak with or have a meal with another human being until the next major day of nationwide observance which, according to my calculations, might be Groundhog Day. I don't mind the holidays. The alligators in my moat which surrounds my walled off compound kind of freak out my relatives, but other than their needing sedatives rather often, I enjoy them. So many traditions that just keep happening year after year. I embrace consistency like that. I like to know what to expect. You know who else seems to embrace consistency and who else seems to like doing the same thing year after year? Kathy Griffin and her tradition of belting out some sort of expletive or sexually inappropriate reference while hosting some New Year's gala with, of all people, pretty, pretty Anderson Cooper.

Here's the deal: Last year, while hosting the New Year's festivities again with pretty, pretty Anderson Cooper, Kathy was being heckled by none other than, you guessed it, a heckler. And, well, let's just say that she had finally had it with said heckler and she let fly a rather pointed rebuttal when she yelled out to the dude, "Shut up!! Do you know what? Screw you! I'm working! Why don't you get a job, buddy!? I don't go to your job and knock the d**ks out of your mouth." Ah, yes. What a way to welcome in the new year!

But that was last year. I think. Wait. Yes. Yes, it was last year. I was a little confused because Kathy Griffin again hosted the New Year's Eve festivities and she again let her vocabulary fly a little bit off in a direction that I'm sure the FAA will be looking into. It won't be as intense as the scrutiny over Janet Jackson's Nipple-Gate at the Super Bowl that one year, but if she gets the same gig next year, they're really going to have to look into assigning a permanent agent to follow her around or something just to monitor her and her inevitable and predictably unpredictable outbursts. I'm just saying.

So this year, Anderson Cooper, being as how he's a fairly legitimate news reporter and all, decided it would be a good idea to engage Ms. Griffin in a little game of "Who Was Who in the News in 2009". You know, show her some pictures of folks who were prominently in the news (for better or for worse. I'm guessing mostly worse.)...see if she knew who they were. It seems harmless. And if he wasn't doing it with Kathy Griffin, it probably would have been harmless.

First up was a picture of reality show

hopeful asshats Richard and Mayumi Heene who had their kid hide in the attic or somewhere whilst they told the rest of the world that he was flying over a three state area in some sort of mylar balloon thing that the family constructed in the backyard during their spare time. (In spare time at my house growing up, we did yardwork, but whatever.) Ms. Griffin knew exactly who they were and said that she "admired their stick-to-it-tiveness". I hadn't heard it put quite that way before then. They did have stick-to-it-tiveness, didn't they? They would not let go of their lie for what seemed like weeks! OK, fine, kudos for that.

Then Kathy asked Anderson if he followed the story and he said that he did and that his

favorite part was when "Falcon said 'Who the hell is Wolf?' " It was at that moment that Kathy Griffin became a bit confused. It was like Anderson Cooper had suddenly started speaking Chinese or something because she started sputtering words out as if she was hoping to randomly hit upon what it was that he had just said. So she asks him, "Falcon?" And Anderson reiterates, "Falcon Heene." Do you see where this is going? Neither did I.

Even with Anderson's "Falcon Heene" clarification, that didn't seem to clear things up for Kathy Griffin. Nope, instead she continued to question him on what he had said. "Fal....F**kin'....Falcon? How do you say it?" Hoo boy. Nice.

I think that poor ol' closeted Anderson Cooper was having flashbacks of the year before and probably was praying that it wouldn't go any farther. Meanwhile, those of us watching this unfold were praying it would go farther. We wanted it to go really far. We wanted her to continue to act as if she had just been liberated from lifelong deafness and was hearing the spoken word for the very first time. That's what we wanted. Sadly, it didn't go that way.

Anderson acknowledged her "curiosity" by simply bowing his head (likely asking the gods for forgiveness and praying that he either keeps his job or finally loses the New Year's gig) and moving onto the next picture while muttering, "You're terrible...." Good cover, Anderson. I wonder if Kathy will come up with something that clever when she is inevitably asked about it?

Well, in a statement released by her publicist on Friday, she didn't just come up with something that clever; she came up with something more clever. According to the AP, she responded to this incident with the following: "Like every other serious reporter covering the now infamous balloon boy hoax, I struggled to pronounce his name 'Falcon' correctly and have gotten a kick out of how many ways I've heard it pronounced by other serious reporters. Just add me to that list and happy new year!"

It's hard to know where to start with that obviously sarcastic and non-serious statement. There's the hilarious reference to her being a "serious reporter". (Then again, there's the hilarious reference to everyone else who covered that ridiculous story as a "serious reporter" as well.) There's also the implication that she was "covering" the story. She was barely having a conversation, let alone covering anything. But my favorite was the assertion that the name/word/bird "Falcon" is difficult to pronounce. You know, more people had difficulty pronouncing the family's last name of "Heene"

than they did have trouble pronouncing "Falcon". Tell me, just how many ways are there that "Falcon" can be pronounced? Let's see...there's falcon. That's one. And then there's...oh, that's right. THAT'S IT! That's the only way! What else could there be? Fulcrum? You're going to tell me they named their poor child after a lever mechanism? Falco? How into the 80s would his parents have had to be to name him after the one-hit wonder Rock Me Amadeus guy? (Very. Very into the 80s and probably very stoned as well.) Falcon. There's one pronunciation and we all know it. Well, we all know it. Let's just hope that the guys at the FAA don't know it because if CNN gets fined and she gets booted from the New Year's Eve gig then the tradition will never have a chance to properly flourish! And after the year that we just had, we need as much possible flourishment in the upcoming year as we can possibly get. And if it has to be through the means of a raunchy, D-List comedienne dropping a f-bomb at some point during the last night of the year, then so be it.

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Happy New Year 2010!

Happy New Year! Or, Happy Friday (if you tend to look at these things like I do and realize that there's not all that much 'new' going on just because two digits in the year have changed)!

Holy canoli, I did it. I posted at least once, every day, for the second year in a row. What is wrong with me? Oh, right, overly opinionated and quite amusing, that's it! I ended 2009 with 415 posts and that works out to right around 1.13 posts per day. That's a lot. I don't care who you are, that's a lot. If you have 415 of something, you have a lot of that thing. And since I'm not one to be a slacker (well, I'm not one to be a slacker so that everyone knows that I'm a slacker. I might be lazy, but I'm crafty!), that is going to have to be the minimum number of posts for me for 2010. And judging from the 2009 debacles that have not yet ironed themselves out, I'm sure that won't seem like such a lofty goal come May or June when I've really got a full head of steam. (And with the recent failed plane blow up and people still wondering if President Barry is a Muslim who was born in Kenya? (He isn't and he wasn't, by the way.) This blog will practically write itself! And on some days, that really wouldn't be such a bad idea.)

Well, this is all starting to sound a little self serving here, so I need to get to the point that I had meant to hit on to begin with. Pretty much, the only reason that I had for posting every single day for a year was simply just to see if I could. That and to get better at....whatever this is. That's just how I work. If I have an ongoing project, I'd prefer that I continue to improve it and get better at whatever it is that I'm doing. And I really wanted to get better at this...whatever this is. And the first year of doing that was work. The second year, while I thought it would be easier, was more work in some ways (I did not see that coming). And while I think that I have gotten better at it, I know that there's no way I could have done it (nor would there have been a reason for it) 415 times if it hadn't been for those of you who read this and have encouraged me along the way to keep it up (lest you actually have to hear me rant about something) via your comments, your readership, your emails or just telling me in person:

La Belle Canadienne, (My link to Canada, America's Hat); Remi, my biggest fan in Germany (I'm huge in Europe!); Irritated Tulsan (Some days, he's more irritated than I am!); Granny Ann, for her consistent readership and frequent comments (I love the comments!); MK, who was kind enough to email me and let me know that one of my posts made her laugh so hard she cried (bringing people to tears in a good way for once! Woo-hoo! A compliment like that really goes a heck of a long way.); CW (who was probably the first to let me know that I might be on to something here); Gerard, my London link to all that is whores; Ruth, my UK link to everything but the whores (which is perfectly fine!); CA (who reads the posts, well...who reads the comments in bulk and loves the pictures!) and finally, AliceAmplified (who has helped shape my critical thinking skills, been an avid, yet blog-mocking, supporter as well as the best friend one could ever imagine. She also writes extremely well, which has left me wanting to learn how to express things as well and as concisely as she can. I can get wordy if I'm not careful.).

You guys all rule. Thank you. Thanks for reading. Thanks for commenting. Thanks for coming back. Just thanks.

May all of you have an incredibly awesome 2010.

~ Mare

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