I first saw Adam Carolla, as many of us probably did, back when he was the irritatingly bombastic sidekick of Dr. Drew on MTV’s LoveLine, and the only purpose he served seemed to be to interrupt any discussion that verged on becoming interesting or genuinely informative. He had the personality of a two-bit morning show radio host (which is maybe where they drudged him up; I don’t know), and his ubiquitous references to his own compulsive masturbation and his perpetually itchy ass made the show truly unwatchable. I’m not a squeamish or easily offended girl, and, to be honest, I find sex and toilet humor funny to a degree that I probably ought to be more embarrassed to admit than I actually am. But, like anything, there’s good lowbrow and bad lowbrow—and I love good lowbrow. When it’s well-done, lowbrow humor can just be relentlessly funny (Dumb and Dumber), and the truth about good lowbrow is that there’s a sweetness to it, a fondness for its foils. (Good highbrow, especially a well-crafted black comedy, conversely, often depends on the absence of such sweetness.) Adam Carolla is the worst kind of lowbrow humorist (a term I must use loosely here)—one whose nasty insults and infantile jokes are infused with no love whatsoever for their targets. But, too unsophisticated a comedian to discern that good highbrow substitutes apathy for the sympathy of good lowbrow, Carolla has instead substituted contempt.
Another lesson Carolla has failed to learn, and understandably so, cloistered in the bizarre world of The Man Show for years, is that being a post-feminist man isn’t especially impressive. On his new show, he ends a riff about fat girls with a grin that clearly anticipates a big reaction from the audience, and instead receives scattered chuckles. His material on gays and Jews is met with similarly unenthusiastic responses. Part of it is his terrible delivery, but the biggest problem is that it’s just not funny.
In front of an audience stacked with men who would hoot and holler about anything that degrades women and gays, simply pointing out women are so womany or that gays are so gay, was plenty to elicit a laugh. But that wasn’t comedy—the post-feminist man is a ruse; The Man Show is no more than a last-gasp outlet for pre-feminists, men clinging to a time of undeserved primacy that is slipping away, to flex and flaunt their quickly waning cultural superiority before it slips away into the ether, and they’re left (the horror!) equal to the rest of us. Carolla seems to think we haven’t cottoned on. Or maybe he hasn't.
The result is that he comes across as a boor and a jerk, and worse than that, painfully unfunny—a state of affairs accentuated by Comedy Central’s strange decision to air his disastrous new show directly after The Daily Show, whose host, the inimitably charming and likeable Jon Stewart, can effortlessly move between low- and highbrow, and rarely hits a bad note. Stewart can project either the intrinsic nice guy-ness or aloof detachment required by either end of the spectrum, leaving him able to serve as the centerpiece of a show that makes fun of everyone and everything (even fat girls and gays and Jews—and when they do, it’s funny, because they know how to do it well). The juxtaposition of the two men leaves Carolla looking like a mean-spirited amateur.
Mr. Shakes, who will never be accused of being politically correct, finds him utterly unbearable, and especially can’t stand to listen to him talk about women, because, as Mr. S. astutely noted, “He hates them.”
And that’s the problem with Carolla’s whole show. It doesn’t matter about what or whom he’s talking—he holds his subjects in such low regard that anything he says about them seems altogether devoid of the affection required for good lowbrow. And as he sits with his desperate grin plastered on his face, clearly wanting to be liked as he embarks on a new show that is wholly his own, I can find as little fondness for him as he finds for his marks.
I really hope Comedy Central ditches the mess he’s made and gets busy getting the Colbert Report on the air ASAP instead.
Adam Carolla Stinks
Exhausted Eminem…
…cancels European Tour.
Too much pants-dropping and farting into microphones can really take its toll on a lad.
Too Stupid to be Ashamed
Yes, I'm an intellectual snob, and this is disgusting:
Victoria Beckham claims she has never read a book.In case you don’t know, and lucky for you, Victoria Beckham is the imbecile formerly known as Posh Spice, current extending what ought to have been 15 minutes of fame by being married to internationally famous footballer David Beckham.
She told a Spanish journalist she prefers magazines and music even though she has her name on the cover of one autobiography.
According to the Daily Mail she said: "I haven't read a book in my life. I haven't got enough time. I prefer to listen to music, although I do love fashion magazines."
I can’t believe anyone would admit to having never read a book.
I’ll just turn it over to Morrissey:
What really lies
Beyond the constraints of my mind;
Could it be the sea,
With fate mooning back at me?
No, it's just more lock-jawed pop stars,
Thicker than pig shit,
Nothing to convey.
They're so scared to show intelligence;
It might smear their lovely career.
This world, I am afraid,
Is designed for crashing bores.
— Morrissey, “The World Is Full of Crashing Bores”
Da Bomb
Stolen directly and in its entirety from the Dharma Bums (hope you don’t mind, my friends).
“Chris Clarke over at Creek Running North has posted about google bombing Intelligent Design so that the National Center for Science Education (NCSE) comes up when people google search on the words "Intelligent Design." We are happy to contribute to this worthwhile cause by providing these links.
Chris provided the following excellent example of how a google bomb actually works. Every time someone searches on Miserable Failure, the President's biography shows up. How beautiful is that?”
Roberts Not Looking Good
Well, after deciding to take a wait-and-see attitude on Roberts, I’m not liking what I’m seeing.
USA Today: Roberts scoffed at equal-pay theory
As an assistant White House counsel in 1984, John Roberts scoffed at the notion that men and women should earn equal pay in jobs of comparable importance, and he belittled three female Republican members of Congress who promoted that idea to the Reagan administration.AP: Roberts once wrote of 'abortion tragedy'
As a young lawyer in the Reagan White House, Supreme Court nominee John Roberts concluded that a group's memorial service for aborted fetuses was "an entirely appropriate means of calling attention to the abortion tragedy."From the same AP report:
Roberts' wrote the advice in an October, 1985 memo after he was asked to review a proposed telegram from President Reagan to the memorial service promoted by the California Pro Life Medical Association.
"The president's position is that the fetuses were human beings, or at least cannot be proven not to have been, and accordingly a memorial service would seem an entirely appropriate means of calling attention to the abortion tragedy," wrote Roberts.
As a young Reagan administration lawyer, he wrote he would have no objection if the Justice Department wanted to express support for a constitutional amendment permitting prayer.Yeesh. I really didn’t want to have to go to town on this guy, but it looks like I’m going to have to. Apparently it’s not going to be a slow news month around here.
Referring to a Supreme Court ruling issued earlier that year that struck down an Alabama school prayer law, he said, "The conclusion ... that the Constitution prohibits such a moment of silent reflection -- or even silent `prayer' -- seems indefensible."
[UPDATE: Maurinsky's got a great post on Roberts. My favorite bit: "Now, women who give birth usually do leave the workplace for a time, although I know a lot of women who went back to work as soon as their six weeks of maternity leave was over. (Six weeks, that's only one week longer than just one of George Bush's annual vacations.)" Damn! Good call, M. Read the whole thing; it's good.]
Papa
The New York Times reviews The Rude Pundit’s stage show. (And there’s a picture of him, too, if you’re curious to see the man behind the obscenity we’ve all come to know and love.)
Settle Down
It’s. A. Movie.
Shouldn't nuns be protesting war or poverty or something? Yeesh.
(That one’s just for you, Tart, because I know how much you love The Da Vinci Code.)
The world just got a little more horrible
Police lie about circumstances surrounding the Jean Charles De Menezes shooting.
Mark at Recidivist Journals Has more.
(Non-amusing cross-post)
Dry Drunk?
Not so much. Per the discussion below, I saw this picture a few weeks ago, and I thought at the time that it certainly seems to contradict Bush’s claim that he’s a teetotaler. (Unless “quit drinking” just means “quit binging until slobbering drunk.”) That sure looks like wine to me. (Original Reuters caption below pic.)
President Bush raises his glass for a toast with Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh (L) at the White House, July 18, 2005. (Jonathan Ernst/Reuters)
One for the History Books
Bush makes history- A five-year streak without saying "No."
WASHINGTON - Like pardons and executive orders, vetoes are among the cherished privileges of the Oval Office. Ike liked them. So did presidents Truman and Cleveland - and both Roosevelts.
But apparently not George W. Bush. In fact, well into the fifth year of his presidency, he has yet to issue a single veto.
It's a streak unmatched in modern American history, one that throws into question traditional notions of checks and balances.
Although the streak could end next month - Mr. Bush is threatening a veto if Congress eases his restrictions on federal funding for stem-cell research - the Bush era thus far underscores a historically high-water mark of collegial cooperation between Congress and the White House, experts say.
As I've said before, it will say volumes about Bush and his administration if the only veto he issues during his two terms is against stem-cell research. I won't be shocked if this does happen, but at least the backlash will make for good entertainment.
On many major bills that Bush has signed - No Child Left Behind and tax relief, for example - the veto was never a consideration because the White House itself had proposed the legislation. Yet on dozens of other bills, the president has become a rubber stamp for a spendthrift Congress, betraying his campaign image as a fiscal conservative, critics say.
It never fails to amaze me how traditional conservatives can continue to back Bush when he essentially goes against everything they stand for. He's not a fiscal conservative, and he certainly isn't keeping government "off our backs." Spend, spend, spend, and more intrusive government is the Bush mantra.
"For fiscal conservatives, it's frustrating to watch," says David Keating, executive director at the Club for Growth, a Washington group that advocates fiscal responsibility and lower taxes. "He's beginning to lose all credibility with these veto threats."
And yet, he's still fawned over and coddled, treated as a "regular guy" that "cares about average Americans." His popularity is at an all-time low, he's spitting in the face of families that have lost loved ones in his war, his vacationing has jumped the line into ludicrous territory, and he still can't manage to speak like an adult.
And it's still smooth sailing for Dear Leader.
Seriously, what will it take?
(Puff, the magic cross-post lived by the sea...)
OMG
Michael Hawkins is going to get me either shit-canned or forcibly tested for tuberculosis, because he posts such funny shit that I’m constantly masking busts of laughter with strange coughing fits. Today’s gem: Pickled Cuckoo Bananas. Appalling and amusing in equal measure.
And yeah—that’s the face of a very stoned man.
Blech
Surely the comic highlight of President George W. Bush's mountain bike ride with seven journalists at his ranch this weekend occurred when USA Today writer Sal Ruibal stopped at a tree and urinated.Is it just me? I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I can’t figure out how that’s supposed to be funny. If that was the “comic highlight” of the day, them’s some pretty slim pickins.
"Ruibal, don't worry,” the president said, maintaining his “regular guy” demeanor. “The last one that peed there was a cow."
All this ho-ho, ain’t-the-preznit-a-fun-guy jollity is reported under the annoying headline, “Bike Riding With Bush Gives White House Reporters New Perspective on President,” the kind of story which I honestly cannot believe is still being written on this jagoff trust-funder playing cowboy. That’s so not a new perspective, that the suggestion is laughable. The only thing that kept me from vomiting was the snickering that ensued when I applied the headline to the following paragraph:
According to participants, Bush had opened his latest 17-mile, two-hour, trek with what comedian Bill Maher might call “New Rules”-- principally that no one would be allowed to pass him on the trail.Yeah, I guess having to stare at the president’s ass for two hours is technically getting a “new perspective.”
It’s simply amazing to me that a story reporting an edict which would remind even the most lackluster student of history of the command of a king forbidding any head to be higher than his own, can also reference the president’s alleged “regular guy” demeanor. You know, Mr. Shakes used to mountain bike regularly in the Highlands with his friends, and I can only imagine how well it would have gone over if one of those “regular guys” had turned to the others and said, “Right, no one passes me today.” Any git who had the temerity to say something like that would have been promptly thumped—because regular guys don’t act like that. That Bush is anything but an overindulged, overgrown brat is one of the greatest fallacies of my lifetime.
And by the way, how many “regular guys” make a point of commenting on each other’s urinations?
“Good stream there, Joe!”
Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Pure wiseassery
Study: Most Wild Chimps are Southpaws
So....
Who knew that Bush was left handed?
*Rimshot*
*Groan*
(Actually, Poppy Bush is left handed. So was Regan. And Clinton. But come on, you thought the same thing when you saw the headline.)
(We were at a party... his cross-post fell in the deep!)
Here it comes
Husband of "Peace Mom" files for divorce
That's Cindy Sheehan. What an annoying nickname... "Peace Mom." Is that something the media created for her, or is that what her supporters are actually calling her? Because it sucks.
FAIRFIELD, Calif. - The husband of Cindy Sheehan, the mother camped outside President Bush's Texas ranch to protest the death of a son in the Iraq war, has filed for divorce, according to court documents.
Patrick Sheehan filed the divorce petition Friday in Solano County court, northeast of San Francisco. His lawyer did not immediately return a call seeking comment Monday.
The rest of the article is just a recap; feel free to go check it out. The "important" part is blockquoted above.
I put "important" in quotes because it really isn't important. We have no idea if the couple was having problems before the protest started, and this was the straw that caused back problems for the camel, or if it had nothing to do with the protest whatsoever.
But, to the wingnuts and the MSM, this will have everything to do with the protest. We have no idea what's going on, but the spin will soon begin.
They've trashed her grief and love for her son, they'll have no problem exploiting the pain of her divorce to make her look bad.
Set faces to "smug." Set keyboards to "smear."
This is going to get ugly.
UPDATE: Some prick in a pickup ran over the group's memorial crosses. Support the troops, my ass.
(Come on, feel the cross-post, girls, rock your boys...)
Marine of the Year Fires Into Crowd
This story is heartbreaking, infuriating, frustrating…and probably all too familiar to those who remember the Vietnam War era:
A U.S. Marine who was named "Marine of the Year" last month for his service in Iraq pleaded not guilty on Monday to attempted murder after he opened fire on a crowd outside a Massachusetts nightclub, wounding two people.Clearly his attorney’s laying out his defense for the media when he talks about the guy protecting his wife and children and firing a warning shot, but it does sound a little, well, fabricated. I mean, the guy was dealing with an annoying bunch of idiots outside a nightclub, and he shot at them; most of us might want to the same, but we’d likely just yell out the window or call the cops, options that failed to register with Cotnoir, probably because he had a horrific job to do in the middle of a war zone, and it cracked him. So he picked up his gun and started shooting. Not what most of us would do, but then again, most of us haven’t spent a tour of duty collecting our pals’ disembodied bits, either.
Daniel Cotnoir, who has been treated for post-war stress since serving in Iraq where he worked as a mortician preparing bodies of U.S. soldiers for burial, was accused by police of firing a shotgun from a window of his apartment in Lawrence into a group of revelers early Saturday after having complained to police about the noise.
Two people were injured in the incident.
[…]
Cotnoir felt threatened by the crowd after a bottle thrown from below crashed through his closed window and cut him in the finger, [his lawyer, Robert Kelley] said.
To protect himself, his wife and children, Cotnoir fired a warning shot into what he thought was a safe area but the bullet ricocheted off cement and fragments hit two people, Kelley said.
The veteran was recently voted Marine of the Year 2005 by the Marine Corps Times for being an "'everyday hero' who exemplifies outstanding professionalism, concern for other service members and community service."
In an interview with a local newspaper, Cotnoir described collecting bloodied body parts of dead soldiers after blasts in Iraq and said he had sought counseling at a veterans hospital after returning home because his war-time job took a heavy psychological toll on him.
War of choice.
Didn’t have to go.
Not related to 9/11.
Just sayin’.
Be a Peach: Help a Kiwi
Shaker Sarah in Chicago was having trouble raising the cash to go to her sister’s wedding next month, and Bitch PhD kindly offered to host a fundraiser for her. If you can spare it, head on over and donate a buck or two. In the end, if enough money isn’t raised, the proceeds will go to Planned Parenthood.
We haven’t been able to afford a trip back to Britain since Mr. Shakes arrived over three years ago, and he missed his dad’s wedding in the interim, so I can completely commiserate—and really hope this works out.
Best wishes, Sarah! I hope we’ll be telling you bon voyage soon.
A Mutual Understanding
Mr. Shakes and I just had the most interesting conversation over dinner, winding around the paths of our respective histories and the things that became important to us as we traveled toward one another. How strange I married a Brit who’d never listened to Morrissey, and he married an American who’d never watched The Man With No Name trilogy. It turns out that he likes Moz, but I can take a pass on spaghetti westerns.
One’s passion for certain books, or films, or music is so personal, and the ardor for long-loved favorites becomes such an intrinsic part of one’s nature, that we each develop, over time and not necessarily consciously, a list of things that we imagine must be loved equally by those with whom we fall in love. Finding the place where a love of, say, Harold and Maude ends and the part of oneself that appreciates such a film begins can be difficult, so much so that one almost can’t imagine being in a relationship with someone who doesn’t like the film. Mr. Shakes never could have imagined falling in love with a woman who didn’t swoon desperately over the brilliance of Anna Karenina. I have yet to read book two of the beautifully bound set he gave me the day we met at Kings Cross. I never could have imagined falling in love with a man who didn’t feel compelled to watch Magnolia on a loop. He considers it nice background noise for a three-hour nap.
But the thing is, I understand wholly why he loves Anna Karenina, and he knows exactly what it is in me that informs my fondness for Magnolia. And, curiously, these are parts of one another which we quite particularly adore—and yet it doesn’t translate into a shared passion for the same things. Not always, anyway.
Such a funny thing, that. I can remember being younger and thinking it impossible to even consider dating someone who didn’t like certain things in the same way I did, too inexperienced and immature to have realized that the appreciation of why I liked what I did, being understood, was infinitely more important. I never could have imagined having this hopeless, endless crush on a man who owned Big Willie Style.
Serious PR Problems
Billmon’s on fire.
At another time of the year -- or another time in my life -- watching a senile old pervert like Bill O'Reilly or a brainless fraud like Michelle Malkin trading insults about a Gold Star mother standing in a ditch outside Shrub's dude ranch might have been enough to drive me into either a blind, homicidal rage or a stark, dying-of-the-light depression. Or maybe both -- thus validating my post-Columbine decision to get rid of all my firearms.Go read the whole thing. It’s really good.
But it's way too hot to get angry and the whole mise-en-scene is way too absurd for despair. I mean, what could be more preposterous than the sight of the mighty GOP propaganda war machine -- built up with such effort and at such great cost -- aiming all its guns at one bereaved, 48-year-old mother camped by the side of the road in Crawford, Texas?
[…]
At this point, to call the Commander in Chief detached from reality would be an insult to paranoid schizophrenics everywhere. Not just from the reality of failure in Iraq -- that's a given -- but from the political reality that public support for the war, and more particularly, for his handling of it, is in something close to free fall.
Also read Digby. Funny how the line between parody and reality just keeps blurring....
