Friday, December 23, 2005

George Bush Doesn't Care About My Sore Feet

Anyone that has been paying attention to the news knows about what just happened in New York City: the World Trade Center was attacked and felled by terrorists. More recently, however, there was a transit strike, which halted New York's integral transit system that shuttles people to and from their Starbucks coffees and leisurely perusals of Vogue magazine. This was an especially bad turn for a city which is already congested to its borders with vehicles and all manner of food carts. I saw a guy serving broiled lobster tails on 14th street last week. It wasn't his cart that took up a lot of space, but the salt water tank of live lobsters that he put in a nearby parking space. Must have cost him ten dollars at the meter.
So many New Yorkers, myself among them, were forced to walk to work in the chilly first days of Winter, on asphalt and across bridges and probably through neighborhoods that one would rather have avoided. Through leg pain and general boredom, I persevered and trudged two hours to work, learning a little more about my city in the process, like Roosevelt Island really does look like a shithole when viewed from the Queensboro Bridge. However, when I reached the Manhattan side of the bridge, I was greeted with a warm and welcoming sight that would have brought tears to my eyes had they already not been stinging from the smell of stale urine and what looked like some kind of decayed vegetable matter: the Red Cross. Yes, the Red Cross came out for this event, and dispensed coffee, some kind of bland wafer, and a hard chair to sit on for weary travelers suffering through this State of Emergency. And while I watched my fellow New Yorkers argue over a cellophane package of crackers, I thought to myself: what was my federal government--nay, my Federal Government--done to alleviate the suffering caused by this tragedy?
Now, I'm not trying to compare the scope of the transit strike to the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, but if FEMA's and the National Guard's excuse for not responding to the latter in time was the water and destruction left by the storm, then what was the big deal with coming to New York? Seems like you could have landed at JFK and cruised right on over. Better yet, you could have landed at Newark airpoirt and taken the PATH train to 34th Street. I tell you what, here's what you do: fly in to Westchester airport, then take the Bee-Line bus to the White Plains station of the Metro-North commuter rail. Take that into Grand Central Station in Manhattan, and then from there walk two blocks West to the New York Public Library. They have a wonderful exhibit of old sewer maps that is only running until next week. If you get lost, try to ask a mail carrier where to go. Don't ask a taxi driver, though. Those assholes will have you walking in circles trying to figure out what's what.
I regret to say that our Federal Government has failed its people again in their time of need. So much more could have been done: perhaps a line of National Guardsmen and FEMA employees could have stood on every bridge and passed commuters along in the style of a bucket fire brigade. Or maybe they could have ferried passengers across the East River in cool nuclear submarines or something. Hell, they could have just quelled the rampant looting and rioting. But the fact of the matter people is that our Federal Government failed to respond to this emergency, and as a result, my feet are fucking killing me. Next time there's a transit strike, I'll remember to use my resources more efficiently and simply bomb the trains while they're all on lay-ups.

PS: I'd like to give an extra special Thanks a Heap! to FOX News for characterizing this transit strike so succinctly for New York and the rest of the rubes around the U.S. I assume they brainstormed to come up with a word, just one word that would seperate their news coverage from the other, bland reporters (who merely called it a transit strike without hyperbole). Well, FOX, you did it again, and successfully galvanized the issue by repeatedly calling the strike, in speech and on-screen graphics, "ILLEGAL transit strike." Thanks a fucking lot, FOX! Because when I was walking at the rate of ten inches a minute while my left knee locked up and my ears felt like they were going to freeze off, the only thing I was thinking was "gosh, this transit strike is just so...illegal." Once again, FOX, you've got your fingers on the pulse of the American public. Unfortunately, the American public cashed out years ago.

Friday, December 09, 2005

Forty Things About Me You Might Not Know or Give a Shit About

Erase my answers and put in your own, and then post it, unsolicited, for strangers to see!

1. What color underwear do you have on?

N/A.

2. What was the last thing you ate?
A heaping bowl of Quaker Breakfast Calamari.

3. What was the last thing that ate you?
Vincent Gallo.

4. Who would win in a fight: Gary Coleman circa 1986 or Star Wars android R2D2?
R2D2, he's got lasers and shit.

5. What color is your hair?

Brown.

6. Does “the carpet match the drapes” if you get my drift?
Heh, you bet, I think.

7. What color are your fingernails?
Right now, the color of individually-painted and painstakingly rendered miniature Puerto Rican flags.

8. When farting, what note do you usually hit?
B flat.

9. What is your favorite kind of yacht?
The Two-Tiered Deluxe Rabble Rouser.

10. Of the following people, I would like to meet ___ the most: Howie Mandel, Carrot Top, Tom Arnold, Adolph Hitler.
Ugh. Hitler, of course.

11. What was the last text that you read in its original Aramaic language?
The Dead Sea Scrolls.

12. What kind of shoes are you wearing?
Bunny slippers.

13. Are you aware that those shoes make you walk funny?
Yeah, but they're really comfy and I've had them since college.

14. What was the first letter of the surname of the last child that you molested?
Oh, I have no idea.

15. Who is better than us?
Nobody.

16. Why is it that whenever someone says they like a currently popular rapper, you always mention Kool G Rap as if that somehow negates their opinion?
Because these newjacks have to do the knowledge.

17. Yeah, well, it’s really annoying.
That's not a question.

18. Who did you vote for in the last national election?
The guy that lost.

19. Does it satisfy you to know that you are helping to flush this country down the toilet?
A little.

20. What is your favorite kind of Little Debbie snack cake?
Iced Zingers.

21. What was the hair color of the last person you skullfucked?
Blonde but I think it was dyed.

22. How many crayfish can you eat in one sitting?
1.3 lbs.

23. Why do you like Apple Jacks so much when they don’t even taste like apples?
Because we eat what we like!

24. When was the last time you drank alcohol?
Yesterday.

25. When was the last time you drank formaldehyde?
Eleven or twelve years ago, I believe.

26. When was the last time you drank foals’ urine?
Not since I was a kid and living among the Centaurs.

27. Are you one of those insufferable fuckbags that talks about a particular sport during the off-season to people who barely give a shit in the first place?
No.

28. Where is the strangest place you’ve ever “done it”?
In the ass.

29. Do you realize that, in the previous question, “done it” was supposed to imply “eaten fast food”?
My answer stays.

30. How much did you pay for your last haircut?
Apparently, not enough.

31. Which clothing company’s sweatshop do you think employs the highest standards of quality?
I think Levi's really gets the most out of their child labor.

32. What did you get for number fourteen?
Oh, I have no idea.

33. Don’t you think we should have some reasonable evidence either for or against the case of extra-terrestrial visitations to Earth?
Not really.

34. How does it make you feel when white people call things “ghetto”?
Kind of annoyed, yet I can't help but chuckle a little.

35. What do you like most about yourself?
My sense of smell.

36. What do you like least about yourself?
The way I smell.

37. What, about yourself, are you so deluded about that it borders on schizophrenia?
At times, I think I am a fourteenth century blacksmith.

38. When was the last time you tried to picture a person’s genitals upon meeting them?
Seconds ago.

39. Who would you call if your anus turned inside-out?
Mr. T and/or the A-Team.

40. Do you like candy?
No, because I am an evil, Godless terrorist.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

The Good, the Bad, and the Mediocre

Representations of Jesus Christ

THE GOOD: Crucified Jesus

This is what we want to see, right? This is the money shot: an emaciated Jesus Christ wearing a crown of thorns, a spear wound in His rib cage and His lungs about to collapse, single rivulets of blood trickling from His wrists and feet. Sometimes, He's looking down and trying to play it off like it doesn't hurt, but the better pictures are the ones where He's rolling his eyes towards the sky and His mouth is hanging open as if He's goraning, "I'm dying for your sins, motherfuckers!!!" When it comes to making people feel like crap for simply existing, nothing else will do. Sometimes you get a shot of His groupies openly weeping or trying to catch his blood in a cup (now that's fandom) and sometimes you get an action shot of armored Romans lancing Jesus, but if you don't have Jesus up on the cross, you ain't got squat. And no, a painting of Jesus hauling the cross to His crucifixion spot will not cut it. That's like a picture of someone moving a couch.

THE BAD: Black Jesus

Let me go on record as saying that I agree with KRS-One and his assertion that Jesus Christ was, Jesus Christ was, Jesus Christ was blaaaaack. Or at least he looked like other Northern Africans. In the New Testament, Jesus is described as having kinky hair and dark skin and other features associated with Africans. On canvas and in sculpture, though, Black Jesus is the wack Jesus. Most of the time, Black Jesus ends up looking suspiciously like White Jesus in blackface. Other times, the artist seems to be so concerned with rewriting conventional Christian history, that he depicts Jesus as some hard nosed ass-kicker, like Richard Roundtree in a loincloth. The result is that the Black Jesus is neither sympathetic or affable, offering neither solace or guilt. Let's be real here, Jesus Christ most likely shared more physical similarities with Jimmy "J.J." Walker than He did with Denzel Washington. Mentally, though, He was on some RZA levels.

THE MEDIOCRE: Sacred Heart Jesus

The Jesus that was picked last for kickball. I am all for representations of Jesus that depict Him as a compassionate person, but in these paintings He looks like a straight-up pussy. I know there's all types of secret Dark Ages symbolism in there, but as far as I'm concerned, Sacred Heart Jesus looks like Corey Haim with a perm. And what's up with His multi-colored robes? Last I read, Jesus was about wearing tattered clothes and rags, not donning some old layered rainbow-flavored pimp shit. This Jesus is the one you usually see on Pentecostal candles at the ninety-nine cent store, next to the fly strips and bootleg toothpaste. I think that the similarities between Sacred Heart Jesus and that damned E.T the Extra-Terrestrial might also be too much for me to bear.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Childrens' Letters to Santa

Dear Santa,
I want all of the
Bionicles that I don't have. That is the red one, green one, white one, and the blue one. I hope you will still have them. How is Rudolph doing? I hope you have a Merry Christmas!! I am 6 years old. Please make sure that all the boys and girls in the world are happy this Christmas especially those in countries where there is war.
Love,
John!!

Dear John!!,
Your letter is all over the place. What do you want? The red, green, white, and blue Bionicles, or for all the boys and girls in the world, especially those in war-torn countries, to be happy? You can't rightly have both, dear boy. Please get back to me right away as Christmas is quickly approaching, and there's no way I'm fighting it out with those other parents at Toys R Us on Christmas Eve for Bionicles or whatever-the-fuck else. Seriously. I'll take a dozen war-torn countries over one night standing between a working mother and whatever hunk of plastic her latchkey child wants. As for Rudolph, he is okay and merely waiting for his flight instruction which I will not be able to complete until you make your desires clearer to me or my office. Hint! Hint!
Sincerely,
Santa Claus

Dear Santa,
My name is Ricky, but you probably know this already, I am 12 almost 13. I didn't had to think hard what I wanted this year for Christmas. I really wish for a Mongoose bike, so that I can hang out more with my friends. I have a bike, but I outgrew it and I thought maybe someone smaller then me could use it. I also would like a Playstation 2, my friends tell me how much fun they have on it. I need some clothes, too. They mean a lot to me. I get teased a lot in school, because I wear sometimes the same clothes. I just don't want to give my Mom everyday laundry, so no matter what I do, I get teased. I also wish you could stop the wars, why is it that people just can't get along? I know I didn't do to good in school this year, but I'll promise to try harder. I hope most of my wishes can be made true. Merry Christmas.
Sincerely,
Ricky

Dear Ricky,
I'm going to be straight with you here: there's absolutely no point in getting a Mongoose or a Playstation 2 until you have friends to share them with, and you're not going to have any friends until you do something about your wardrobe. I'm not talking about those "friends" that told you how much fun the Playstation 2 is. How exactly did they make you aware of this, Ricky? Was it like, "Oh man, Ricky, the Playstation 2 is so much fuckin' fun, you totally have to fuckin' come over and use it sometime!" or was it more like, "Rick-ee the Sick-ee! Likes to touch his dick-ee! Why are you hitting yourself, Ricky? Why are you hitting yourself? Stop hitting yourself!" It was the latter, wasn't it? Look, Rickster, I'm not trying to be tough on you here, but mom's laundry be damned; you have got to get some more gear. It doesn't even have to be too tricked out, just get rid of that Mighty Morphin Power Rangers t-shirt, eighty-six the wraparound "new wave" shades you got from Timmy's bar mitzvah and--please Ricky, for Christ's sakes--lose the velcro Muppet sneakers. Just chuck 'em. You're never going to get chicks with those kicks. And believe me, Rickinator, that's about to become a lot more important to you than some old Mongoose.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus

Dear Santa,
I am so excited about you coming to our house this year. We have put up the tree and the stockings. I think I have been a good girl this year. I hope you bring me a Barbie Singing Machine this year. I will leave you milk and cookies again this year because you seem to really like my mommy's cookies. I hope you stay warm and safe on Christmas Eve.
Your Friend,
Morgan

Dear Morgan,
My "friend"? You're my "friend" now? I'm sorry, honey, but you're no "friend" of mine, and if you were, you wouldn't put up a tree or stockings. Why do people think I like that crap? Here I am, hustling down the chimney, almost fainting from having to suck my gut in for so long, and what's that at the bottom, obscuring the hearth? Why, it's a BUNCH OF FUCKING STOCKINGS AND A GIANT EVERGREEN TREE! And you think cookies are going to make up for that nuisance? Last year, I swear, I was a second away from making off with your mom's purse. But I didn't, because I'm Santa Claus, and my morality is part of the deal. Nowhere in that "deal", however, did it say that Morgan and Santa Claus are friends. You want to be my friend, Morgan? How about you install a nice slide in your chimney and put a pillow at the bottom? Or maybe I could leave your gifts on the roof and you can pick them up in the morning. Work with me here, Morgan.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus

Hi I just want a suprise for Christmas, but what do YOU want for Christmas? Bye keep on smiling :) :)
P.S. I'm a girl and my name is Ayla

Dear Ayla,
Man, you don't know how relieved I am that you are a girl! LOL! Seriously, I get a lot of letters from dudes that want this or that from me, and they're so willing to do anything to get it...it kind of creeps me out. And I really enjoyed those smiley emoticons you used, hon! ;p Really kewl. Look, I can't really write too much right now, because Mrs. Claus is in the same room, but you can always get at me on AIM: SantaClaus420 or you can just send me a text message: (917) 555-6635. Try to call after 10 PM, though, because that's when Mrs. Claus goes to bed! K talk 2 ya l8er.
-SantaClaus420 (Use it! Really!)

Santa
I love you. I got a recipe for reindeer food. It contains sugar, oatmeal ask the reindeer if they want that. If so, where should I put it? Who is Olive, Comet Jr. and Brighteyes? Are they newborns? If yes, whose kids are they? We are going to a motel this year because of what happened last Christmas Eve. Do you think you can leave gifts at our house since we can't be there? We won't be able to sleep at our house. Also can you leave a gift for Burt even though he is not with us any more. Last Christmas he wanted a shirt. I would like to get one from you and we can leave it wrapped but we can leave it at our house and take it our memorial service we are giving him. Thanks.
Jessica

Jessica,
How many times do I have to tell you that I am really, REALLY sorry about what happened to Burt last Christmas? Maybe I had a little too much eggnog, maybe Burt shouldn't have been on that roof at 3 AM on Christmas morning, but all I know is that in almost a thousand years delivering presents to the good little boys and girls around the world, I have had ONE accident, and that was when I struck Burt on the roof of your house and fatally wounded him. No one is sorrier that this happened and I have desperately tried to make amends, both financial and emotional, ever since last year. Yet you still won't let me live it down! If I give you this t-shirt, are we even then? How about if I give you the new Barbie Silicone Playset? Let's make a deal, Jessica, because I would like to put this behind me. Your Christmas memories might be tainted for life, but I have a job to do.
-Santa

To Santa,
Our names are Chris, Sarah and John. Chris is 12, Sarah 11 and our little brother John is 4. We have all been really good this year, excpet maybe John sometimes. We have put up our Christmas tree and we got to put the decorations on. We have bought mum and dad a present and also our granny. Hopefully we will get lots of good presents for Christmas. It doesn't matter if you can't get us every thing we asked for. We will be happy with anything.
Love Chris, Sarah and John
P.S.: We will leave out some carrots for the reindeer.

Dear Chris, Sarah and John,
What a bunch of ass-kissers you kids are! Fortunately, when it comes to Santa Claus, flattery will get you everywhere. That's why this year, Chris and Sarah are the joint winners of the annual "Spoil a Kid Rotten" contest presented by North Pole Holdings, Coca Cola, and your local Wal-Mart. You will each receive a present and prize package worth over fifty thousand dollars and which includes:
- A brand new Xbox 360 with all launch titles and accessories
- A five-year supply of Coca Cola products and assorted merchandise
- A brand new, fully-loaded Kia Sedona (no driving it for a few years, kiddies!)
- A Wal-Mart five-minute shopping spree
- An audio package by JBL worth five thousand dollars
- Other coupons and great prizes!
It's just our way of saying "thanks" for supporting Santa Claus and Christmas for all these years. As for John, he was a lot worse than you made it out to be; by my count, "sometimes" turned out to be a whopping 89% percent of the time. He will be receiving only a lump of coal. Hope this doesn't cause any familial problems! Enjoy your presents and prizes, kids, and thanks for choosing the North Pole for your gift delivery needs!
Sincerely,
Santa Claus and staff

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Claus,
It must be nice there at the North Pole. If I ever could go there, I would. It seems so pretty there.
Well I gotta go eat a snack.
Love ya,
Lauren

Dear Lauren,
There's one thing we don't cotton to here at the North Pole, and that's airheads. You, in particular, sound like a real ditz. Can we stay on topic for more than twenty words, Lauren? And that "love ya" shit is soo facetious. I'll tell you what, Lauren: use the money you might have spent on a trip to the North Pole on a brain transplant. I'm giving you all educational toys for Christmas this year, so you'll need the mind power to use them!
Sincerely,
Santa Claus

Hola Santa,
Soy Mateo y tengo 4 años. Vivo en Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Tengo dos hermanos, una Agustina de 8 años y otro Juan José de 13 años. Todos te queremos mucho y te estamos esperando. También tengo cuatro primos: Catalina, Valentina, Delfina y Felipe. Ellos también te quieren mucho y te están esperando. Ya falta muy poquito para que vengas. Estoy preparando pastito para tus renos. Y para Vos mi mamá te va a cocinar un rico arrollado de nueces y también te voy a dejar como todos los años un rico vaso de Coca Cola. Bueno Santa, quiero que me escribas para guardar tu cartita para siempre.
Te mando un abrazo muy gigante,
Mateo

Dear Mateo,
Oh shit, man...there's a guy, this elf called Eduardo that usually fields all the Spanish language letters, but he's out this whole week so...haha, I can't understand any of this. I guess you live in Argentina and you want four boats or something? And maybe some Coca Cola, from the looks of things. Well, I can handle that last part; Coca Cola and I go way back, but as for the boats...I'm going to have to check the maritime laws for Argentina. I don't think a little kid can operate a boat, much less four. Haha...oh, jeez, when is Eduardo getting back? Monday? I wonder if I should leave this for him to answer? Ah, screw it, it's almost Christmas already. This triple shift has me all bleary-eyed.
"Hasta la pasta,"
Santa Claus

Dear Santa,
I want two male guinea pigs more than anything. I know I will get 'em, but I would love you to be on backup just in case.
Jolene

Dear Jolene,
That's what I like to see: a girl that's got all her bases covered. You know, we could use a spunky go-getter like you up here at the North Pole. Truth be told, we've been doing this thing for eight-hundred years and I'm still making purchase orders on carbon paper and then inputting the P.O. numbers on an Excel spreadsheet. Think you could come streamline the operation? The job pays 50K, with benefits and a retirement package after six months. Profit-sharing after a year. Eight weeks vacation, but you can only take them during the months between February and September--the rest of the year is our busy season, you see. Interested? Fax a resume and salary requirements to the human resources office, and we'll set up an interview. I look forward to speaking with you again.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus

Friday, December 02, 2005

My Confession

When Philaflava first announced the casting call for the part of Reggie, I wasn't going to audition. I was broke at the time, living in Barcelona and touring Europe with an eight-man Zydeco band (I played the Glockenspiel). My sandals and only sweatshirt were stolen from the tour van, and I was probably at the lowest point in my life, but I was determined not to go back to America, tail between my legs, especially after "the incident." Then I got a call out of the blue from my talent agent--I hadn't heard from her in three years at the time--which put things into a different perspective for me. She said, "When you want to go to Denny's and get the Breakfast Stack with four pancakes, three eggs, bacon, sausage, a kaiser roll, a bowl of grits, home fries, and a slice of melon, do you go to the old, decrepit Denny's down on Myrtle Street, or fo you go to the new, shiny Denny's with the self-service soda fountain right by the Piggly Wiggly on Haversham Boulevard?" I had to admit that, with such a well-crafted allegory, she made great sense.
So I had resigned myself to coming back stateside, but I still wasn't going to try out for the part of Reggie. I knew I had the requisite experience and literacy, and to be sure I always knew that I could do the part. As described, Reggie was supposed to be a witty, sardonic kind of poster with good writing skills and excellent picture posting abilities. A mastery of UBB code and trivial knowledge would be a definite plus for the role. But there was one stipulation that made me believe that not only would the role be a challenge, but a near impossibility for me: Reggie was to be a skinny white guy.
You can't tell just by looking at me, but I have never been skinny. Ever since I took the gold medal at the Fatcrobatic Camp Summer Olympics in 1986, I've maintained a healthy girth through a strict regimen of not dieting or exercising. I really don't like to talk about it, because even though I am a fat person, I don't consider myself one of those typical, go-getting fat people that are obsessed with themselves and only talk about how far along they are in their cellulite gain. I see these competitive jerks all the time down at the McDonald's, shoveling Quarter Pounders with Cheese into their mouths to see who gets the first heart attack. I always think to myself, "I would have the first heart attack, if I wanted to." But I don't. I have never used my fatness for political or social gain. I don't roll that way.
Somehow, my agent convinced me to just talk with Philaflava about the role, and I agreed just to get her off my back for a minute. It turned out to be the most important conversation of my life. I met with the incredibly talented writers at philaflava.com and the executive producer, who were all very warm and excited about the possibility of us working together. The producer explained the role to me this way: it wouldn't be about a skinny guy trying to make his mark on a baby blue message board populated by rap fans and social misfits, but about a guy trying to make his mark on a baby blue message board populated by rap fans and social misfits that happened to be skinny. The writers weren't going to go for the easy "skinny rhetoric" you find on most scripted message boards, but instead try to portray Reggie as a regular fellow in this crazy, mixed-up world, just trying to make sense of it all and his twenty-four inch waist. And when I looked at it this way, I saw the role of Reggie as a great challenge that I could embrace, as opposed to embracing myself.
Well, it's been a few years, and we've had a lot of laughs, but I think it is time for me to come clean and show everyone the real me. I, Reggie "Reggie" Renfrew, am a fat person portraying a skinny person on philaflava.com. I hope that no one feels slighted or lied to by my expert portrayal of a skinny person; I did it to entertain, not to deceive. I still intend to play Reggie as a skinny person for as long as philaflava.com is renewed, but from now on you will know that a fat person is behind the suspiciously thin text. I hope that this will only allow you to gain a deeper appreciation for my craft.

Copyright © 2008 Reggie Hassenblatt. A NOW Crew Hilarity, All Rights Reserved. | Email reggie@reggiemail.yup