Nebraska vs, Homosexuals (not a WWE match)

On May 1^st, 2015, a 66 year old Nebraskan woman, named Sylvia Driskell, filed a federal lawsuit in the U.S. District Court of Omaha.

The suit, which is seven pages of hand written gold, asks, “Is homosexuality a sin, or not a sin?”

Citing herself as the plaintiff, she claims to be an ambassador for both God and his son, Jesus Christ. The defendants are homosexuals (listed as “their given name, homosexuals”) as well as their alias, spelled “Alis”, “Gay.”

In making her argument, she quotes the King James Version of the ever popular “God Hates Fags” book of Leviticus:

Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.

A few things about this actual line of dialogue before I move on…

First, Leviticus is largely believed to be a collection of speeches God made to Moses. Moses had been int he desert for 40 years and was fast approaching the end of his 120 year life...so, probably not the ideal stenographer. in fact, Moses's younger brother, Aaron would have been a better candidate to record the "word of the Lord." BUT, according to the Bible, Moses stripper his brother of his "priestly garments" in quite the "cunty" manner (that last part was mine, not the Bible).

Aaron would die on Mount Hor according to the book of Numbers…or he’d die at Moseroth as recorded in Deuteronomy. Two totally different places that have “significant distances” between them according to Fredric J. McCurdy’s succinctly titled, The JewishEncyclopedia: A Descriptive Record of the History, Religion, Literature, andCustoms of the Jewish People from Earliest Times: Complete in Twelve Volumes.

But hey, why quibble over the vast inaccuracies in the Bible?

Second, as mentioned, Moses was old and presumably tired. He even wrote “it is abomination” not “it is AN abomination.” This would infer, there is NOTHING ELSE one could do that is an abomination, just gay sex or literally to “lie with mankind.” This warning not to “lie with mankind.” could be God railing against “hoodwinking” your fellow man (which, let’s be honest, probably means to do something with one’s penis according to Urban Dictionary)

Yet still, Moses, before stripping his brother (which is a bit hom-ish, itself), may have been pissed off because Aaron was NEVER around to do Moses’ bidding. He was younger and thus more virile. So it could be assumed by scholars and pervs alike that Aaron was out banging women…and perhaps even men.

Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.

Also, if that colon is a typo caused by a 120 year old's "dim eye (YES< I know Deuteronomy says, "his eye was not dim." However we already saw the conflicts that book had with Numbers, so how accurate is it?), then it actually means you shouldn't lie with men OR women. SO I submit two thoughts here:

1.    (lie = fucking) God was looking to create a pre Clive Owen, Children of Men situation of NO MORE PEOPLE being produced!

2.    (lie = bear false witness), God really meant, “stop lying you motherfuckers!”
As in, “WHOA! What’s with all of these wars being fought in my name here guys? You get that mine is a message of peace and love, right?”

But, I digress…back to Nebraska.

Here’s my concern in regards to this young lady’s suit (young compared to old man Moses).

She’s naming ALL homosexuals in this suit, and presumably, ALL homosexual activity. Does this include the fellow who is NOT a homosexual, and one night he’s surfing the internet (we’ll say proof reading the Bible or something), eventually he finds himself looking at porn. THERE’S SO MUCH OF IT ON THE INTERNET!!!
The porn is going great, when all of the sudden, this NON homosexual has a “Lola Situation” on his hand (or IN it!). Should he stop? Should he click to another video? Should he close the browser all together? Or should he continue, ignoring the hoodwinking that has been thrust upon him?

…er, ah hypothetically, of course!

I have included the actual handwritten petition below.

Before answering her question of, “Is homosexuality a sin, or not a sin?” (It’s not), she really needs to define WHAT homosexuality is.

Speaking of definitions, according to the Urban Dictionary, Hood Winking is "when someone gets slapped in the eye by an uncircumcised penis, followed by dragging motion away from the eye.”

Yep. Nailed it!

How I Saved Bradley Cooper A Couple Of Bucks (Or Some Dude Who Looked Like Him)

Saturday April 11th marked the 9th annual "Logan's Heroes" benefit. Logan's Heroes is a benefit held yearly by my brother Brian and sister-in-law Vicki, in honor of their son Logan (my nephew), who was born and passed away in 2005. 

There are many things to appreciate about the event, but one of the things I have cherished year after year, is not just my buddy Gordon coming out to support the cause, but the fact that he never wins anything in the raffles! It might paint me as a bit of an asshole, but it (not so) secretly would make me extremely happy. It had gotten so bad, he would write "Gordon Regan" on his tickets, thinking either the name would bring him luck, or that "the fix was in" and the surname would help alleviate that. Personally, I think it's falsifying a document, and is probably against the law (I have notified the proper authorities).

Gordon, BEFORE a name was called.

Gordon, AFTER a name was called (not his - Streak still intact)

9 years in, I'm sorry to say, the streak has been broken. And mightily! Not only was the name "Gordon Holmes" read aloud. It was read TWICE! And to make matters worse, Gordon's own fiancée would also walk out a winner (I can assure you, NOT because she's his fiancée...but because her name was also called out in the raffle). 

Look how smug he looks, with all his loot!

THREE things! This can't be!

What did I walk away with? Nothing! Zip! NADA! ZERO!!!

I mean, sure I won a set of Flyers beer glasses. However, we gave them to our friend Jimmy who is a huge Flyers fan. NOT because I am a nice guy, but because as my beautiful wife said, "We have no more room in our cabinets."

So off we went, empty handed.

I put my daughter into her car seat and my wife got in our car. Just then I noticed a young couple had parked at the meter in front of us. Since I already gave away my only winning of the night, I was in a kindhearted mood.

"Hey, did you want my meter? I have like another hour on it," I said to the guy.

"Oh, I just paid," he said turning and looking at me.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT! IT'S BRADLEY COOPER!!!" I thought loudly.

"Oh, man! That's too bad," a pretty woman said as she exited the driver side of the car. 

"It was only about an hour," I consoled her.

"Every little bit helps, right?" she asked through an adorable Russian accent

"Yep," I said. "Also, Limitless was a supremely underrated movie!" I didn't say.

Off they walked to enjoy the nightlife in Bam Margera's town as I got in the car and turned to my wife saying, "That was totally fucking Bradley Cooper, right???" (We curse a lot)

"I don't fucking think so." (I might be paraphrasing what Julie said)

********************************************

So that's the end of the story,

I may or may not have met Bradley Cooper.
I didn't take home any winnings from the raffle.
Gordon finally broke the streak I had hoped would continue forever.
Jimmy got my glass.
I curse a lot.

THE END,,,

...until this story came out today!!!

Bradley Cooper Goes on a Broadway Date with Model Irina Shayk

The picture in People is TOTALLY the girl who was driving in West Chester a couple weeks ago! 

HELL YES! I'M A WINNER!

Did Gordon meet Bradley Cooper and his GF? Nope! 

Just me baby! 

And Julie (who still maintains it wasn't them). 

Clearly she's wrong. 

Because, "Every little bit helps," INDEED! 

WE DID IT!

These days, the internet is a buzz with people fighting over what color a dress is, needing to know the latest on Kim & Kanye, and whether or not the "new" Ghostbusters will sit when they pee.

I'm glad to see that we solved ALL of the other world problems. Congratulations everyone! We did it!

And The Oscar Goes To...Hot Tub Time Machine 2

Recently I have been suffering from a crisis of conscience. In my desire to create, I have become less and less interested in “deconstructing” other people’s work. Meaning, I no longer feel like “talking shit” on McG (among others).  I just no longer enjoy criticizing. So much so, that I have put a temporary distance between myself and the hate platform known as Social Media.

Facebook, the racism “metal detector.” (ß Okay, apparently I don’t mind criticizing Mark Zuckerberg’s work).

I used to LOVE to watch events such as award shows and Tweet pretty much everything that comes to my mind (grammar be damned and spelling errors aplenty). It was like being in a writer’s room with the potential of 1000s of other writers. The thing is, that writer’s room is getting more and more crowded all the time. It seems everyone has decided to add Live Tweeting to their resume in the past couple of years.

After Tweeting the Grammy’s I felt rather empty (fill in “terrible state of music joke” and then make sure to tell the neighborhood kids to get off your lawn). I also realized I wasted almost 4 hours of my life watching something I knew I had predisposed myself to hating, which of course fueled my vitriolic Tweets.

Since the Grammy’s left me feeling so low, I decided to watch the Saturday Night Live 40^th Anniversary broadcast while barely glancing at my phone. I found I enjoyed it because I wasn't hunting and pecking all of the flaws I saw during a 3 and a half hour live event (how could there NOT be a few?)

Then, a couple of days before the Oscars I started to think, “Should I even watch them this year?”

I wasn't nominated for anything (again). So what was the draw for me?

“Don’t you love movies?”

Of course I do. I loved movies SOOOO much, that I wasted tens of thousands of my parent dollars going to film school (I finally work in the field – THANKS Mom & Dad). But what do the Oscars have to do with movies? Wouldn't it make MORE sense to actually go SEE a movie during the Oscars?

So I watched the opening number to the Oscars. I thought it was very nice. Then I decided to turn off the TV and go see a movie.

What to see?

I had seen a lot of the nominated films already throughout the year. I wasn't looking for anything super deep, just something to sit and be entertained. Perhaps a comedy? I looked to see what was playing nearby.

Hot Tub Time Machine 2. Of course! Why not? I LOVED the first Hot Tub Time Machine. And I equally love Adam Scott. This is a home run, right?

editor’s note:  it wasn't. More like a broken bat single into right field during Spring Training without any runners on base…but hey, it’s in the ball park

Another editor’s note:  I realize the previous editor’s note is in complete conflict to the argument above, however it was written AFTER the rest of the piece…SPOILERS!

  

But alas, this story isn't about HTTM2. It’s about the experience of trying to GET there.

Over the past month, the East Coast is been bombarded at night with subfreezing temperatures. So much so, that the city of Boston has all but put out a hit on a weather predicting rodent who resides in Pennsylvania, and South Carolina has incarcerated one of Disney’s newest and “coolest”characters.

The temperatures during the day, rise high enough to melt the endless barrage of snow that has been piling up, and then freeze all over the roads at night. So my usual 10 minute drive to the movie theater took about 20 minutes, and included as much sliding as pleading with Isaac Newton to keep my car from staying in motion through red lights.

I finally got to the theater and parked.

I had NO idea what kind of crowds the theaters would draw during the Oscars. Would it be like the movies at Christmas in 2014? Everybodypiles into the car to swamp the theaters. Or would it be like the movies at Christmas in 1994? A secret kept by the few who knew how easy it was to get in and out with plenty of arm room.

I walked in to the AMC Theater and a heavier Man in a cardigan, who doesn't look like he passes up a lot of cookies, and a young Woman on a headset were behind the counter. The Woman was having a conversation with someone on the headset. The Man was looking at her as I approached them.

The Man, never taking his eyes off of the Woman said, “Can I help you?”

I waited a beat, wondering, “Is he talking to her or me?” The beat went on too long so I asked, “Excuse me?”

He finally turns his gaze towards me and repeated, this time in a less than sincere tone, “Can I help you?”

“Oh. Yes, I’d like 1 ticket to Hot Tub Time Machine 2, please.”

“Sold out.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact everything is sold out.”

“Oh, Wow!” I guess the Oscars has become the new Christmas.

I was very surprised. I thanked them and walked out the door.

Towards the parking lot.

Where my car was parked.

In the amazingly…

unfilled…

parking lot.

Carpooling perhaps?

Something seemed “off.” So I pulled out my phone. I went to Fandango. I typed in the movie and theater. This particular theater (AMC Painters 9 Unit 0598 as listed on my eventual ticket), is one of those new fandangled “Dine-in” theaters. Which means you can pick your actual seat when you purchase your ticket online. So I opened the seating chart and realized the parking lot wasn't the only thing that was empty.

When this Man said “sold out,” was he commenting on ME for NOT watching the Oscars?

I bought my ticket from Fandango and got this message:

So far, the automated computer response had been kinder to me than 2 actual people.

I turned around and went back in the theater. I was in full view of Man and Woman the entire time I stood outside. When I turned around, they must have realized what I had done.

“Oh, we just had a returned ticket.” Said Woman.

“That’s convenient, ‘cause I just bought one.” Said Me.

“They shouldn’t be selling any more tickets! They need to update the system.” Said Man. To Woman. While looking at Me.

Okay…it’s now occurred to me, he might have been a faulty robot who enjoys cardigans and cookies.

They ripped my ticket and I was on my way.

Those are some sexy nails, am I right ladies?

I walked into the theater half expecting it to be packed with patrons having to sit on the floor because of a computer error that continued to sell tickets to a sold out show. Instead, 1 minute before the previews were to begin, I asked the ONLY other person in the theater if he too was told the show was “Sold Out.” He said, “No, but the 7pm was.” Having this info means this guy either came to the 7 and was turned away, or attempted to buy tickets online for the 7pm and had to do the 9pm instead. From this I deducted he also bypassed the purchasing from Man-o-bot and WomanLady.

I took a picture of the empty theater.

Having taken a photo in the theater, I'm sure I'm on an F.B.I. watch list for pirating movies now.

It should be noted that during the previews another couple came in and sat a few rows behind me. I’ll wager a guess that they too bought their tickets from Fandango before coming.

This would be an excellent time to tell you that according to Box Office Mojo, Hot Tub Time Machine 2 made $5,963,324 in its opening weekend. That is NOT a good number. And yet, it could have been higher, had the 100+ seat theater I was sitting in, not been “sold out.”

I don’t tend to complain. I worked in retail for 15 years, and I get that things happen. But the Man’s unprompted rudeness and the Woman’s lie pissed me off. A LOT! MY CRITICIZING BONE HAS BEEN HEALED!!!

Did the woman think I was so dumb that I wouldn't realize there was only one other person in the theater?

I complained. To the writer’s room.

AKA - I used Twitter to contact AMC Theaters:

I also added the photo I posted above. (Hence the F.B.I. watch list)

Then, the next day, they contacted me...or at least Brien did:

And now we wait…

Well that didn't take long. Hmmm…I can’t help but notice there seems to be no apology of any kind in this response. Perhaps they’ll send it with some free movie tickets or a fruit basket…

See I'm reasonable...

Okay. Not THAT reasonable, I guess...

“Bad info.” So they are simply saying, “Sorry you were lied too, asshole. However, that’s our company policy. It’s just most people don’t actually complain. And why the fuck aren’t you at home watching the Oscars? – Brien”

Also, no fruit basket.

I seem pissed...but I still singled out the service from the wait staff as being excellent. 

Will-fucking-do? Pretty casual Brien.

So, no apology.

No offer of free tickets implying, “We’ll do better next time.”

No fruit basket.

Not even a couple cookie crumbs off RobotDick’s over stretched cardigan.

Sunday night, I realized a few things:

1. I should have stayed in and watched the Oscars

2. I won't be going back to that movie theater  

3. I’m a critical mother fucker! (for example, see review of Hot Tub Time Machine 2 above)

Kim Jong Un: The Next Augustus Gloop

Kim Jong UN gets a new haircut and waxes his eyebrows in preparation for his meeting with Willy Wonka. He's looking more and more like Augustus Gloop every day!

The entire Kim family has been known to rule using Pure Imagination.

Even Gods Die (Whatever The Hell That Means)

When I was a senior in high school, I did the musical Godspell. I filmed everything. And, Oh yeah, I also stole a lawn ornament.

I’m sure the statute of limitation for stealing a statue has worn off by now, right? Just in case, I won’t give you too many details other than to say, I was a bored teenager.

A handful of us were out one night and saw a statue (AKA lawn ornament) in someone’s garden. We felt it would be perfect, NOT in their garden anymore. It would be wrong to rat out my accomplices at this time. But if you really need to know, Steve Berger & Mike Dionne could shed some light on that for you.

We were dicks and we absconded with the concrete kid under the cover of night.

The statue, depending on who you asked, was a little boy or a little girl decked out in a bathing suit, as well as a pair of swimmers goggles on top of a swimmers cap. It was probably bought as a gift for the home of a young championship swimmer who has since gone on to compete at an Olympic level. I still feel bad about that (the theft, not the Olympics).

We had named the statue “Bob,” and “given” him to my buddy Jim. Jim was going away to the Naval Academy, while to rest of us would be loafing around the summer before entering college.  These are out Outsiders days (minus any of us saving a kid from a fire, though I wouldn't put that one past Dionne). Since openly displaying stolen contraband is frowned upon by the US Navy, it was decided that Bob would remain at my parent’s house while Jim was away.

The rest of the summer, Bob sat silently on a bulkhead overlooking my parent’s pool. I’m sure the temptation to dive in was at the forefront of his concrete mind. However, his embedding dive would not result in meeting water. Instead, a strong gust of wind would knock him off the bulkhead, sending him plummeting about 5 feet to the cement pool deck. The impact destroyed Bob’s legs and much of his torso.  This was most unfortunate, as we had recently concocted the plan of sending photos of Bob having fun throughout the summer to his rightful owners, with the intention of returning him once the Summer ended. Now it seemed that behavior would be cold and callous.

So there was only one thing we could do…get rid of the evidence in a Vikingesque Funeral.

We waited until Jim was able to take a break from the military Academy to properly eulogize Bob. That date would come sometime in the late Fall or early Winter of 1995 at the beach…where the water was FREEZING COLD! And of course for good measure, I filmed it.

What follows is a video entitled “Even Gods Die.”

I have no earthly memory of why we felt we needed to bestow the power of a god on this sedentary monument. Perhaps out of the same teenage boredom that saw us nab him in the first place or, as previously mentioned, because we were dicks.

But alas, this deity is no more…unless you happen to end up with a chunk of rock in your foot while down the Jersey shore. IN which case, please address all lawsuits to Jim McCabe.

Saturday Night Live (40 Years And Counting...)

Saturday Night Live debuted about 3 weeks before I was born.

My first recollection of the show was on March 12, 1983 when Buckwheat was shot. I was a little more than 7 years old and didn’t yet grasp the concept of parody. The now famous sketch aired almost 2 years to the day after President Ronald Reagan was shot in similar fashion.

I wouldn’t start watching Saturday Night Live more religiously until around the time NBC aired the miniseries AD (March 31-April 4, 1985) and SNL did a running gag throughout the episode. “Caesar does not bring me this glove himself?” WHACK WHACK!

But it would be the cast of the 12^th season that would seal the deal for me. Dana Carvey, Nora Dunn, Phil Hartman, Jan Hooks, Victoria Jackson, Lon Lovitz as well as holdover from season 11, Dennis Miller collectively worked together to bring me back week after week. A. Whitney Brown and Kevin Nealon were merely featured players at that time.

My parents bought a video camera in 1987 just in time for Christmas.

I would film my own sketches with my brothers Brian and Erick, which were mostly shittier versions of the sketches SNL did the week before. My buddy Jim would spend many Saturday nights, which might explain why to this day, our conversations still invoke Steve Amadbenbrassier (from the “Iran’s Most Wanted” sketch).

By the time 1994 rolled around, I was convinced I would someday be a writer on Saturday Night Live. I wasn't brazen enough to think I’d be a cast member. After all, I had terrible stage fright.

Fast forward to 2015. Though, I obviously have never written for Saturday Night Live, I have done an awful lot with live comedy.  I still think of that kid from 1994, and his stage fright, every time I step on stage and I wonder if he could fathom what he’s done.

So this past Sunday, NBC  aired a live broadcast celebrating 40 years of SNL. I admit, my love for the show has faded over the past decade and a half. Perhaps I’m too old to truly be a member of its fan base, don’t trustanyone over 30 and such. But all the same I was very excited to see all of my comic heroes on one stage.

Neither the kid with stage fright, nor the slightly graying/heavily balding performer, was disappointed with the outcome.

Sure there were some missed cues, but all in all I enjoyed the show. I watched for about an hour and a half before I picked up my phone to see what Facebook and Twitter had to say. I was kind of surprised by how much vitriol and anger I was seeing. Then I remembered, it’s the internet. Did these voices also dream long ago that they’d now be writing for SNL? I decided to close my phone and just enjoy the rest of the show.

I loved all of the inside jokes. Many of them I know from years of reading about what goes on behind the show.

I loved seeing all of the Not Ready For Primetime Playersfrom the original cast. At least all of them that are still alive.

I loved seeing so many SUPER stars who got their starts in studio 8H including Bill Murray, Mike Myers, Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, Tina Fey.

I loved seeing how humble Chevy Chase, a man who doesn’t usually know that word, was.

I loved seeing the return of Eddie Murphy, no matter how brief.

I even loved seeing Miley Cyrus sing a very restrained version of Paul Simon's  50 Ways To Leave Your Lover, realizing she’s NOT bigger than SNL (something that Kanye West didn’t seem to get).

It’s weird to see a show that is the exact same age as you, grow old. It makes me wonder how many jokes either of us has left. Will SNL go on until Lorne Michaels breathes his last breath? Will it continue even after he’s gone, as an institution to not just television, but comedy? Will I out live it? Is it still waiting around for that kid from 1994?

No matter what the future holds for you, me, Lorne Michaels, angry tweeters or SNL, there’s is one thing that will always remain true:

Generalissimo Francisco Franco is still dead.