Friday, April 30, 2004

Pssst, Did You Put "Friday" as the Answer to Question One? I'm Just Checking...

Last night Nightline did an exposé on cheating. I suspect that they actually got the idea from Dateline NBC.

Evidently, students cheat. Nooooo. Pardon my sarcastic overuse of the letter “o,” but –no crap!

The students on the show last night were first class morons. Even the student that was getting paid really well to write other student's papers was an idiot. As people like me like to say in order to protect our fragile egos, “he’s book smart, but he’s got no common sense.”

I’d be willing to bet that almost everyone has cheated in school at one time or another. I’m not talking about hardcore cheating on tests, I’m just talking about the little stuff. I did it, I’ll admit. My cheating, however, was mainly restricted to copying homework. It happened rarely. Usually, I just didn’t care if my homework was completed or not. That’s why I graduated from High school with a 2.8 GPA (I think it was a 2.8, I can’t remember. All I really know is that I was almost smack dab in the middle of my graduating class grade-wise).

I think that my indifference to cheating on homework stemmed from the fact that I was accused early on of cheating when I hadn’t. I had this horrible harpy of an English teacher while I was at Mead High School in Spokane. Our assignment was to write a pretty lengthy research paper, ten pages if I’m not mistaken, that was a lot for me my sophomore year.

Now, this paper was to be accompanied by note cards which we were supposed to turn in periodically so that she could coldly criticize our feeble attempts at grasping the basic ideas of composition. (I graduated Cume Loude from College and I still can’t write a good sentence, I refer you to paragraph three in this post.)

Long story short, we had a set amount of cards to turn in each time. I, being King Procrastinator, never wrote note cards. So before I was to turn them in I went through a book on NASA (I’m also a bad storyteller, my project was on the space program) and wrote down the photograph captions. Those captions were my note cards. I didn’t care what they said, I just copied them until I had enough.

It was a misunderstanding. I wasn’t going to publish my goddamned note cards! I wasn’t even going to copy them into my paper. They were NOTE CARDS!

Ms. Harpy must have had it out for me, she checked every one of my note cards. Maybe she just loved NASA. But I know that other students did the same thing and she did nothing to them.

Well, Ms. Harpy went ballistic. She acted like a child. I was supposed to leave her class early for a band performance one day, one of the days that the note cards were due. She meticulously, and very slowly, went around the entire class and checked everyone else’s cards first and when I asked her if she could check mine so that I wouldn’t be late for the concert she just said, “Mr. TAM, it’s not your turn right now, I have other students that need just as much attention as you, you know.”


I got to the performance just in time to help them put the chairs away.

Why should I care about her class after that?! I’ll tell you why. Because she threatened to expel me from school and she would also leave really horrible, nasty, and frankly – inappropriate messages on my home answering machine. I can’t really remember what she had said but I think the term “spawn of Satan” was thrown around a few times.

Maybe I was the spawn of Satan, and Ms. Harpy was just jealous that Dad paid more attention to me…

I ended up getting a D out of that class. The only other class I ever got a D in was P.E. Even my mother didn’t care. She knew I couldn’t win.

The moral of this story is, don’t cheat. Don’t even cut corners. Your teacher could be a stalker psycho.

I’ll save the story about how I almost got thrown out of college for academic fraud for another time. It was another misunderstanding. It really was.

Fun Fact: I’ve got a new book out! I just finished it, you can buy it on! It’s about an earthly man who looses the family’s struggling grocery store when angel lawyers from heaven conduct a hostile takeover! A really good summer read! By me: “Stanley” Tam!

Oh, and the new TAM cartoon is up!

Thursday, April 29, 2004

Just Your Usual Boring Thursday

Except for the fact that the shopping malls that I frequent are on heightened terrorism alerts. Other than that…same old same old.

Hey, terrorists, I know that you read the internet so I need to ask you a quick question; what did the Beverly Center or the Westside Pavilion or the Century City Shopping Center ever do to you?! They are fine malls, leave them alone.

I’m not sure if the Fox Hills Mall was included in the threat or not but it wasn’t mentioned on the national news this morning. Is it because it’s kind of a ghetto mall…elitists!?

But seriously, you chicken crap terrorists, leave my malls the hell alone! There are many good things about those places.

The Old Navy is across the street from the Beverly Center and if anything happens to it – I’ll have nothing to wear. Besides, parking is bad enough as it is. (The Beverly Center mall itself is overpriced crap, there’s a Sanrio store there, and whenever you mix upper-middle class teens with Hello Kitty you get a whole lotta' stupid.)

The Robinsons May is at the Westside Pavilion and it’s the only place in town where I can find cool sunglasses at a reasonable price (even though I went in there once after breaking yet another pair only to be told that they weren’t selling sunglasses because it was winter. Excuse me, what?! We live in freaking Southern California! Have you people looked outside?! It’s always sunny! But in their defense, it was getting down to about 60 degrees at night). And the Suncoast Video there has Little Rascals collections for under ten dollars! That’s just a great buy. (Also, a Sanrio store, but it’s smaller and therefore not so much suck.)

But, you get to see celebrities at the Century City Shopping Center. It’s closer to Rodeo Drive than the Beverly Center. Tanya and I saw Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King with Adam Sandler and his wife. Plus, it’s an outdoor mall so I get to smoke! Do you know what a rarity that is in California? You can’t smoke at the beach, but you can smoke at the Mall in Century City! (Plus, the only Hello Kitty you have to see is on the tiny shirts of the annoying uppity teens who got lost on their way to the Beverly Center one afternoon.)

So go bomb your own malls, jerks.

Fun Fact: Sand is only really good for three things; for building sandcastles, for catching cat poop, and for extinguishing cigarettes. PAN THE BAN! I’ll stop smoking on the beach when cats stop pooping on it!


Sand manufactured at rock crusher plants for use as an aggregate is called "mansand." Which sounds kinda’ like a porn term for something…I don’t know what, but it couldn’t possibly be painless.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

Tuesday's Special: Fried Network Show - and a cartoon

The latest TAM cartoon is up!

And in other news...

It’s amazing, but money apparently won’t make you a mature adult. Hard to believe, no?


Last night I tuned in to watch the Monday night 10 o’clock commercials on NBC. Much to my disappointment, they kept getting interrupted with scenes from “The Restaurant.” Luckily, it only happened a couple times.

Rocco Dispirito and Jeffrey Chodorow are both idiots. How can you spend that much money opening a restaurant and then act like a couple of children?

For those of you who don’t know, the restaurant is hemorrhaging money, so now the two owners are battling it out in the war of “I know you are but what am I?”

So Jeffrey brings in a bunch of corporate big-wigs in an attempt to streamline the restaurant. He also brings in one pompous twenty year-old college intern with “15 years of experience in the business.” Evidently, he’s worked his way up from the nursery. The kid’s an idiot. The intern promptly makes himself look like an even bigger ass by illegally serving alcoholic drinks and by crowning Rocco “King Douchebag.”

King!? Earl maybe. Lord High Chancellor? But not King.

So the two captains of industry spend most of their time sitting in their ivory towers slinging empty threats at each other.

But then something extraordinary happens – they actually sit down to discuss their problems. This is where it gets juvenile.

Here’s a very loose transcript of their conversation:

Jeffrey: The restaurant’s loosing money.

Rocco: I know.

Jeffrey: I want to start making some money.

Rocco: Me too.

Jeffrey: We need to make some changes around here in order to make that money.

Rocco: I agree.

Jeffrey: Why are you such a jerk?

Rocco: Why are you such a jerk?

Jeffrey: Stop copying me!

Rocco: Stop copying me!

Jeffrey: Quit it!

Rocco: Quit it!

Jeffrey: How come you don’t care about the restaurant?! Why are you losing my money?

Rocco: You never said you wanted to make money!

Jeffrey: Whatever, I did too!

Rocco: You never said, “hey Rocco, let’s make some money!”

Jeffrey: Whatever, dude.

Rocco: Whatever yourself!

Jeffrey: You’re a big baby!

Rocco: Shut up!

Jeffrey: What, you gonna’ cry an’ tell your Momma on me?!

Rocco: …Don’t think I won’t.

You would think that these two could sit down and have a real conversation about this. They’re into it for millions of dollars?! If they hadn’t started acting like little kids, they would have realized that they have the same goals!


Here’s some advice for Jeffrey and Rocco:

Jeff…can I call you Jeff? When your business partner says to you, “just put up the money…I’ll take care of the rest.” Don’t invest! Jeeze, man, how did you make your millions?

Rocco…Rock…The Rock…Rocky…Even rock stars have to occasionally pick up an instrument, dude.

And for both of you: If the floor staff (and I’m not saying this to be mean, it’s just that I’ve met a few restaurant workers in my time), but if they are making you look immature…it’s time to pry your lips from off your mother’s teat and act like big people.

Fun Fact: I had no idea how disturbed I would get by writing that “mother’s teat” part but I’ve actually been put off my Diet Pepsi.

And the Burger King in Budapest is the largest in the world at three stories tall. I have enough trouble trying to keep the food warm in the short distance from the counter to the table at a regular sized one.

Monday, April 26, 2004

A Couple Hundred Hits Later…

Brandon’s prize for being the 2000th visitor is finally here!!

Sorry for the delay.

The prize is a new hit single from the Anthropomorphic Recording Studio titled “2000th Visitor.” It may be Brandon’s prize; however it also belongs to the world…not the copyright, that belongs to me. I hope you all enjoy it. I don’t know how I would categorize the style…pop-punk? Nuvo surf pop? Revolutionary war rock?

A special thanks to Jose Jalapeno for hosting.

Go here, or click on the link at the left for the new TAM hit single!


Oh, and congrats. to Julie for winning FIRST RUNNER UP! You may ask how you win first runner up…you threaten me.

Congratulations Julie, don’t hit me!

Fun Fact: While in the seventh grade I was picked to be the DJ at the big school dance. Why? I have no idea. I didn’t volunteer, I was picked. I think because I was the only one who knew how to run the mixer board (it had knobs on it instead of sliders…rock on). Plus, it was my band director who picked, and I was always picked by band directors to do something It was the beginning of my AV geek days. Lucky for me, those days only lasted about three years, just long enough to get out of a lot of class…people needed those VCR’s! I was doing a public service!

So, I was picked to DJ the dance. It’s not like they gave me a playlist or anything. They just told me to bring in some tapes, and if I didn’t have enough I could borrow some from the cool rich kids that had the money to actually buy tapes. If I had only brought my own tapes, the whole gym would have had to listen to Casey Kasem in between all the songs, and they might accidentally get to hear me sing along to the greatest hits of John Denver. I recorded myself singing to the radio a lot in those days. I would do it now…but the radio’s crap.

This was a big responsibility. I didn’t know what to play. Duran Duran was real popular, I had “Seven and the Ragged Tiger” and “Arena.” But that would only get me so far. Luckily, there’s always one jerk who thinks he has the best music collection on the planet and luckily that jerk brought his tapes.

DJ-ing sounded pretty glamorous at the time, once I got over the initial fear of total embarrassment. Everyone in the whole dance would know I was there. They would have to listen to me. They could not escape my power! Now there was a reason that no one would dance with me. I was with Duran Duran, and we came not to dance – we came to rock this party!

Dreams, they die.

I was horrible. Plain and simple. Really bad. None of the tapes were cued up right (in my defense, I had to do it with a walkman while the stereo was blasting another song and I would constantly have to leave the gym in order to hear my headphones). And the DJ banter? Imagine if you will a fat 12 year old who always overcompensated around girls. Now imagine that he thinks he’s the center of attention of every girl in the school!

Really awful.

Stupid “secret” song dedications… “Are you ready for some…um…I’m going to play…um…It’s a fast song!...” They were all fast songs. I had some crushes and I couldn’t stand to see them slow dance with the boys that they really liked.

But my biggest embarrassment comes now. Now that I’m 30 instead of 13. Now that stupid “Blender Magazine” has released its insipid opinion on the worst rock song of all time. “We Built This City on Rock and Roll.”

In my entire horrific one night career as a DJ, long ago in the 7th grade back in 1986 or so, “We Built This City…” was the only song – that I ever played twice.

It was my opener and my closer.

Thank you Blender Freaking Magazine.

Go here to see what Lileks thinks of it.

Friday, April 23, 2004


Ooohhhhhh...a gifted horse.

Not like, "hey, that horse plays a mean piano" gifted...A horse that has been given as a gift.

Always on the case,

Only Robinson Crusoe Had Everything Done by Friday

I hate cliché. I lie. I love cliché.

Hope against hope and keep your fingers crossed that I stop using them and maybe I will, God willing (and the creek don’t rise).

Well I was grasping at straws while my hope sprang eternal. Shooting for the moon and wishing on a star I finally came up with a new TAM cartoon for us to pin our hopes on.

I should have let sleeping dogs lie.

Fun Fact: My favorite cliché of all time is “never look a gift horse in the mouth.” I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it seems like a pretty stupid thing to do, horses have bad breath and they bite. And what the hell is a gift horse anyway? I did some research and found that the phrase has to do with the inspecting of a horse’s teeth to judge its age and worth.

Still, what the hell is a GIFT horse? I don’t have the answer. Don’t be a gift horse mouth looker.

Thursday, April 22, 2004

Saving the Planet One Machine at a Time

Went to the Gym this morning and saw the most annoying person that I have seen in a while.

Since they don't allow cameras at the gym, thank god, I took the liberty of drawing a picture of her for you.

Granted, I took some liberties, but she was a real pain in the ass.

It was pretty bad when she parked illegally in the lot (we had followed her in from the street), but when she threw her backpack on one of the cross-trainers and then left for five minutes while she went downstairs and stretched…I could’ve slapped her. I’m not a violent man, but I get tired of seeing people walk up to the machine looking all confused.

You can't save the machines lady!!! We all pay to much to work out there.

I definitely think she could have participated in that Iowa State riot. And I’m pretty sure she started the great Chicago fire.

Fun Fact: I signed up for Gmail today…yeah! I hope if they invade my privacy, they only invade the boring parts of it. Aw, who am I kidding…it’s all the boring part. Invade away Google, when you fall into a depressive coma you’ll have only yourselves to blame.

Tuesday, April 20, 2004

Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace

The new TAM cartoon is here!

Contrary to my depiction in the cartoon, I am not left handed...just stupid.

Fun Fact: According to the popular poem, Saturday's Child works hard for a living. I can tell you from personal experience that just isn't true. However, as per the poem, I do suspect that Sunday's Child is actually gay. Find out on which day you were born, if you don't already know. Why don't you already know? Is it a secret?

Monday, April 19, 2004

Me, Me…Did I Mention Me?

It’s no secret that we live in a society that’s been preoccupied with one thing lately – ourselves.

We’ve turned into a bunch of selfish brats over the course of my lifetime. (MY lifetime dammit…get your own!) Why is that? I’m only thinking of it because of that ridiculous “riot” at Iowa State. I used quotation marks around the word “riot” because, I was under the impression that riots, while extremely irresponsible, are supposed to have some kind of purpose?!

Not to say that a riot is a good way to work out troubling social problems, but they should at least have something to do with something?! Not just a bunch of bored college “students” looking for something to do on a weekend.

I used the quotes that time because I was also under the impression that students were supposed to actually study something.

Remember when a riot was a way to express anger at a police beating, or our favorite sports team losing the big game…or winning the big game?

Don’t blame the students though; they probably didn’t get enough sleep the night before. Iowa State should take a cue from Duke University and cancel their 8:00 classes! After all, it’s the school’s responsibility to make sure that their students aren’t lazy ass-heads, right?

We have to blame someone. I’ll blame the school, you blame the police, and you…over there in the corner…you blame the kid’s parents. If we wanted to get really creative we could go after reality TV, popular music, and the fashion industry. You want to get even more creative, let’s hit the entertainment industry, advertising, and the Federal Government.

The truth is…it’s all of those things, isn’t it. You could seriously make a valid argument for any one of them. And if you can do that, then they must be partly responsible.

However you feel about it, a good irresponsible riot isn’t for everyone. I have devised a little quiz for you to see if you’re rioting material. Here goes:

1. You’re stuck in traffic; you only have an hour to go three blocks. You can see that the left turn lane is wide open, and even though you need to go straight, you…

a) Stay where you are. The left turn lane is for left-turners.
b) Wait to see if anyone else is using the left turn lane to beat traffic and once they do, follow them like you would an ambulance during rush-hour.
c) Drive in the goddamned lane. You’re a taxpayer; you pay for the whole goddamned street. It’s not your fault that everyone else is a bunch of stupid suck-jobs.

2. It’s time to set your sprinklers. You turn them on and notice that one of them is soaking the entire sidewalk, the street, and the neighbor’s cat, you…

a) Leave it, that cat’s filthy goddamnit.
b) Try to change it, but it’s too hard to move, besides, the neighbor needs to water too, right? It’ll only be on for a little while, and hey, maybe the street will grow hahaha.
c) Turn the water off and figure out how to get the water to stop hitting everything in the neighborhood.

3. Old Navy is having a terrific sale that would make the 99 cent store jealous. Your significant other already owns the entire catalogue, but just in case there was something missed, you are drug to Beverly Hills to perhaps pick up a fake fleece half-zip pullover made by a Taiwanese toddler. You take your merchandise into the dressing room to try it on, however due to the extreme inconsistency in the sizes at Old Navy, nothing fits. So you…

a) Gather up all of the ill-fitting clothing into one giant ball and head back out to the dressing room clerk. Before you do though, you grab the hangars; she’ll need ‘em.
b) Try to fold the clothes as neatly as possible and put them back on their hangars, if there were any to begin with. But honestly, they fold the shirts using those wooden things, you can’t really expect perfection…or can you?
c) Just leave the goddamned clothes. That’s what the employees get paid for, besides, the rest of the store looks like it’s been hit by a tropical storm so why should the fitting rooms be any different? Anyway, the workers should just be happy to have a job, especially one that gets them out of Inglewood for the day.

4. You’re walking down the street when you notice a nice shiny storefront window behind which are cheaply made yet expensive imported items that you couldn’t possibly be able to afford. You…

a) Pick up the nearest trash can (that’s not nailed to the ground) and throw it through the window. That’ll teach those goddamned elitists!
b) Window shop and dream of the day that you finally hit it rich and stop buying clothes made by the tiny fingers of Taiwanese toddlers. Then weep for the children…won’t anyone think of the children?! But never once think of the WTO.
c) Scoff at the US’s preoccupation with material goods and then put you cigarette out on the side of the building, but think twice about throwing the doused butt in the trash can that could be used to smash the window. Then you curse NAFTA.

Now that you’ve taken the quiz, do you have what it takes to riot like an LA superfan?

Score yourself:

1. A = 1 point, B = 3, C = 5
2. A = 5, B= 3, C = 5
3. A = 3, B = 1, C = 5
4. A = 5, B = 1, C = 3

16 – 20: You’re ready to rock mo-fo! Pick up a brick, dude, the party’s just commens- comensor- …getting started!

12 – 16: Maybe you could riot. Maybe you couldn’t. Is there anyone else doing it? Aw, crap, you only live once right?!

8 – 12: Is it a worthy cause? Can we live with the tyranny of the World Trade Organization? Did the Canucks really lose that badly? If you weren’t such a Leafs fan, you’d be there right now. Oh, who are you kidding?

4 – 8: Riot? You? Heavens no. Violence only begets violence, you know. It’s nothing that a strongly worded letter couldn’t fix. Oh there will be a riot alright…at the polls come election time!

Less than 4: You forgot to answer one, stupid.

Now you know.

Fun Fact: Tanya and I went to Bath and Body Works this weekend. Being the least macho man that I’ve ever met, I decided to buy something called Warm Vanilla Sugar body splash. Now I smell like dee-sert! Dee-lish! It’s like a riot in my nose! Uh-oh, cheese it, here come the pigs!

Friday, April 16, 2004

The Anthropomorphic Friday

Cartoon, cartoon, cartoon!

Why? Because it’s Friday, that’s why.

Okay, so Brandon, your prize is almost finished. I won’t tell you what it is right now, but you may be able to guess. I will need Johnny’s help again…if he would like to give it to me. If he wouldn’t like to help to me, I’ll be forced to remind him how I helped move his new couch and a grill.

Please don’t make me do that, Johnny.


Thursday, April 15, 2004

Congrats Brandon!!!

Brandon is a winner!

Unless he's a big liar. Are you, Brandon? Are you a big liar?

I don't think he is, so I'll announce the prize very soon. Thank you to all of you who played. It gave me something to do.


Ohhh, the excitement!

It’s getting down to it! The winner will be revealed soon! Okay, you can all pretend like you don’t care, but my hit count went up yesterday, so I know some of you want to know just who will take home the grand prize!

Here’s a hint, no one will take anything home. But there will be a prize. I think it’ll be a good one. Time will tell.

Realize, of course that I will inadvertently speed this process along by constantly checking to see if anybody’s won.


Fun Fact: 53% of pet owners in Canada and the US turn on music for their animals when they go off to work, according to a 1998 poll by the American Animal Hospital Association. However 90% of Americans and Canadians who turn on easy listening for their animals, come home to find that their pets have hung themselves with a necktie from a chandelier leaving behind only a note on which is scribbled something about Michael Bolton and the Carpenters, according to TAM’s wild 2004 speculation.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

You May Already Be A Weiner

As I look down at the hit counter (below and to the left), I have to wonder...who will be the 2000th visitor?

Could it be you? Or you? Or you?

(Don't look behind you, I was really only talking to you.)

I should probably give out a prize to whoever it is. Okay, here's the deal. If you are the 2000th visitor (and you can prove it), I will give you some kind of prize. I'm not going to say what right now. It will be cash worthless, so don't just keep hitting this page until you're #2000.

Prize will be awarded at my discretion and only at my discretion.

If you got here by mistake or were looking for furr!3 s#xx, you will not win. If you’re a big jerkbag, you will not win. I’m starting to like running this contest. They should let me run the state lottery. The winners would be a lot more deserving, I can tell you that.

Although, now that I think of it, most of the lottery winners that I have seen have been pretty deserving. Has a bank robber or a Wall Street tycoon or a serial killer ever won? I suppose a successful bank robber wouldn’t need to play the lottery…

Anyway, good luck people. But don’t get your hopes up because in all likelihood, the 2000th visitor will be me. I’m my own best customer.

Fun Fact: The three highest multistate Lottery jackpots awarded nationwide were $363 million (split two ways) in Big Game on May 9, 2000, $331 million (split three ways) in Big Game on April 16, 2002, and $314.9 million (one ticket) in Powerball on Dec. 25, 2002. And not one of them has ever killed anyone! What are the odds?!

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday

Whatever that means?

Maybe it means that the new TAM cartoon is up? 'Cause it is.

Fun Fact: If dog poop were made of gold, those jerks that let their pets relieve themselves in my yard would think twice about just leaving it there. Since it's not made of gold, however, pick up after your dogs, jerks!

Monday, April 12, 2004

Jessica Simpson

Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson Jessica Simpson...

Jessica Simpson!

There. Have I gotten her out of our collective systems now?

According to ancient eastern philosophy, a new super-genius should be coming on the pop-art scene any minute now. Could it be you? Could you be the next Andy Warhol or John Lennon? Could you hurry please!? Someone needs to fill the intellectual and cultural vacuum that chickpea has created.

Oh, stop it. You know you hate her. Even if you think she’s hot or something. I’m not being cruel – she simply has nothing to offer any of us. She’s…pretty, sure. She can sing, I’ll give her that. But why should I care? She’s the musical equivalent of McDonald’s. She may taste good, but there’s nothing nutritional about her – and I think she’ll be the downfall of mankind.

I eat at McDonald’s. I smoke. I’m overweight (not for long). I think that I’ve adequately proven that I don’t give a rat’s behind about my physical health. But I can’t abide my brain being whittled away by empty-headed pop stars. I try to avoid her, I do. I didn’t watch but two minutes of her show last night. Just long enough to witness her sing with Jewel and Kenny Rogers. Oh Kenny, say it ain’t so.

It’s just an act, right?

Rrriiight. An act. She’s actually a super intellect. Laughing all the way to the bank. Lucky for her, that her publicists, agents, manager (Dad the pimp), and entourage of hangers-on can point her in the direction of the bank. If it were up to her to deposit the money on her own, there would be a very lucky postal worker somewhere in Orlando right now.

(you see…because she mistakenly put her money in…hehehehe…a mailbox!...hahaha…eh)

Now who laughing to who’s bank!?

Obviously I’m not the second coming of James Joyce. Hurry up super-genius, before it’s too late!

Fun Fact: I played basketball on Saturday. I suck. I don’t play hard. I can hardly play at all. With that said; why am I still sore? Yesterday I was staggering around my house like someone who’s just traded their “ninety-day chip” for a pint of Jack Daniels. I’m a puss, but I’m hobbling all the way to the bank!

Not really…unless Tanya needs quarters.

Sunday, April 11, 2004

Thank You Easter Bunny...bock, bock

Happy Easter!

There needs to be better TV on Sundays. We've already exhausted the morning searching for brightly dyed pints of Egg Beaters.

Life's a little different for those who are looking to be more healthy.

Fun Fact: Bunnies don't actually make bunny trails.

Friday, April 09, 2004

Freaky Friday

Not too freaky. Just the New TAM cartoon.

And you thought that I had completely forgotten about this Blog.

So, what's new with you?


Tuesday, April 06, 2004


You Only Live Once. Really? I swear we’ve done this before?

Average Joe: Adam’s Revenge was on last night. I feel I need to tell you because you may have been watching a more interesting program about Jesus and Paul (from the people who brought you ecstasy).

Same old crap, different gender (Average Joe, not Jesus).

You know, I used to kind of respect Adam. I thought for sure that he would do the right thing. He didn’t. But, it will be interesting to see how most men feel about that.

Once again, the fear of real commitment has reared its ugly head. Once again, there were casualties. Maybe it was because of the short run, but Adam didn’t waste much time with his choice. After some initial eliminations, it came down to haggard Samantha and schoolmarm Rachel.

Rachel should have read TAM before she went on the show, then she would have known that you can’t win the game if you actually want a serious relationship. Stupid, stupid girl.

In all fairness, yes it’s true that leather faced Samantha didn’t actually audition for the show. She was picked because of some creepy stalker letters that she sent to NBC. Obviously she liked the guy. I’d be willing to bet that she liked being on TV better.

So they go on their final dates. Unlike the first two shows where the guys were being picked, Average Joe: The Return of the Jedi didn’t take us to the homes of the hopefuls. Instead, we went to the big man him self’s house (well, his parent’s house).

“Sexism, you cry! Sexism!” No? You should! Hell, I was even a little insulted. I guess the producers of the show know who wears the pants in these relationships. I suppose that they know the importance of taking a woman home to the man’s house, I mean, how else is the money grubbing chick supposed to know how much wealth the dude (or his family) has and thusly make her choice? After all, I suppose she will have to know where she’ll be spending the rest of her Christmas’s, right?

Am I making too much of this? Probably. Let’s move on.

So the home dates went well. Adam introduced the girls to his crazy mother and his male and female clones. But seriously, Adam looked a lot like his sister, but really, really looked like his father. At least for Adam, there will be no rude awakenings. He’ll know exactly what he’s in for. Plus, if Adam ever goes missing for like ten years, there’ll be no need for those computer aged police photos.

There were some recaps of previous dates: Adam making out with Samantha. Adam talking with Rachel.

Adam gave Rachel a bracelet that says YOLO after she said “you only live once” during one of their dates. What are the odds!? "You only live once?!" “The postman always rings twice!” “It takes two to tango!” “A penny saved is a penny earned!” “Only the good die young!” "What would Jesus do?!"

As he so eloquently put it to her:

“That’s my…I use that as my…it’s my…I say that.”

You just know that the entire camera crew was biting their tongues trying not to yell out the word “MANTRA!”

Samantha and Adam made out on their final date and Adam’s mom accused her of being a materialistic Jewish princess (not in so many words).

Adam made out less with Rachel on their final date and Adam’s mom cried tears of joy at the prospect of having her for a daughter in law. Big mistake. Mom obviously doesn’t understand child psychology. Adam felt like she needed to have more passion. (Here’s a secret, buddy, elementary school teachers are full of surprises. Let’s face it; they hang around little kids and gay men all day. And sometimes they’re just aching for some “adult” time. Missed opportunity.)

Then the choosing came and, as I said, it was a bit anticlimactic.

Samantha, you look lovely…let’s do it in the plane!”

Rachel, you look lovely…I hope that mascara’s water proof, hop on the bus.

But then Rachel did something kinda’ cool. She didn’t say something stupid like “well, I hope you two are happy. I just want you two to be happy. If only you two would be happy!”

She called him out.

Adam tried to make his choice sound better than Melana’s or Larrisa’s. Nice try, bud.

Everything about this finale was the same as the last two shows. The more sincere one gets the final date. The more sincere one gets out of the limo last. The more sincere one gets the royal shaft.

I would accuse the producers of making it look like Rachel was the better choice by leaving out little facts about Samantha, like she runs an orphanage for terminal babies or something, but these producers couldn’t even change up the format of their show! They’re morons.

The only thing that would have made this insipid show worth my while would have been if Rachel would have ripped off her YOLO bracelet, thrown it at Adam, and shouted,

“Here, Give this to your WHORE!!”

Fun Fact: Here’s a sure fire way to get a pot bellied pig to squeal on cue: Have the DA exchange immunity for testimony.

Yuk, yuk, yuk, I got a million of ‘em.

Friday, April 02, 2004

O Sweet Redemption Bathed in the Soft Green Glow of a Freshly Cracked Glow Stick

Network television delivered another decisive blow in the battle for the minds of America, narrowly pulling ahead in its war against Big Government.

It’s official…well; almost official…Ecstasy is okay! The drug, not the emotion. Although that’s okay too.

Peter Jennings told me so. He’s hocking narcotics now.

Yeah! Hooray! I love you…no I love you…I love you more…I love you more…

Hey, I’m all for calling the G on its BS (the BS crushes their credibility in the fight for other, more dangerous drugs)…but kicking ‘em while they’re down…? That’s a little much, I think.

Okay, so they lied about the effects of E. So they may exaggerate in order to win the somewhat repressive and often unfair war on drugs. They’re big fat fatty liars. It’s true.

But let’s be honest here, are they the only ones? The last time I checked it was a two sided battle.

Are we really supposed to believe that taking Ecstasy actually helped people? That taking drugs can somehow be part of a regimen for spiritual health?

I’ll tell you that smoking cigarettes helps me too. But that’s because it’s true.

They paraded a bunch of people across the TV last night that testified to the fact that taking Ecstasy improved their lives. There was a rape victim, a disenfranchised mother, a millionaire drug dealing ex-priest, some obligatory ravers, and all of them discussed the positive effects of popping pills.

They said that it caused them to be more in touch with their minds, their fears …techno music…

I’m sure it did. After all, I wouldn’t really know, I’ve never taken the stuff. I’m positive that ecstasy can turn a repulsive rave into an all night love-in. It would have to…how else could you stand that crap?

That’s not my point. I don’t care that E doesn’t actually poke holes in your brain or cause Parkinson’s disease. I also don’t care that you think it helped you connect with your children or find God. None of that is what I have a beef with.

It’s the unwillingness of society to take any kind of accountability for its own deficiencies that bugs me. Medicinal Marijuana has a purpose, when it calms physical pain. But just because you feel disconnected with life is no reason to take a pill.

Here’s a news flash for you E users; effects on your spiritual life aren’t any more real than if you hadn’t taken the drug.

When did we all turn into such royal weenies? Help, I’m fat…better go get the Flobee Pouch (it’s endorsed by evangelists after all). Help, I’m disinterested in sex…better get some Spanish Fly (or whatever they’re calling it these days). Help, my penis is too small (for what?!) Help, I’m disenfranchised and bitter…better get some Ecstasy (ironic isn’t it…I’m evidentially bitter and disenfranchised).

Cowboy up, pussies!

Here’s the straight dope for you people on the show last night:

Your children are the same whether you take some pills or not (unless, of course, if you take them all the time).

God is in the same place he was before you took drugs.

Some things are just hard to get over and circumventing the process could do more harm than good (actual diseases not included).

If you need to take psychoactive drugs for recreation, you have no imagination.

And if you’re taking drugs to appreciate music, you’re listening to the wrong music.

I’ll stop harping on this. I’m just getting fed up is all. I’ll bet you didn’t know that I was such a fuddy-duddy killjoy. But if they do ever invent a pill to make it so that I never have to listen to dance music ever again…I might be tempted.

Here, go and laugh at these idiots who jumped to conclusions. Apparently, the Ecstasy hasn’t centered them any.

And go here to learn how to justify just about anything.

Fun Fact: I wrote the word “Ecstasy” over six times in this post and yet never spelled it correctly even once. I need a “spell-better” pill.

My Man Friday

So, the new and improved TAM Cartoon is here!

That's pretty much it.