Species Name:  Digitalicus Assrapeus

I now know how Julius Caesar felt when Brutus stabbed him in the back.  Alright, maybe the Shakespearean analogy was a little much, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel utterly betrayed by Netflix’s pricing plan increase.  And apparently I’m not the only one since the company’s stock has plummeted 10% over the last week.  Sell!  Sell!  Sell!

Before I digitally bitchslap Netflix for being King Douchebag of Ye Olde DVD-by-Mail Rental Services, I have to apologize that it’s been a while since I last wrote a post.  This is mostly due to the fact that I’ve been too depressed from all the hate mail you’ve been sending me.  No, not really.  In fact, I kind of grown to love all the scathing comments directed my way.  Apparently you’re reading the posts, so I’m doing something right.

Okay, now onto the matter at hand… Netflix.  So, a couple of months back, Netflix announced that it would be changing it’s pricing plans.  It would no longer be $8.99 for 1 DVD by mail, and unlimited streaming.  It was now going to be $8.99 for the 1 DVD by mail, and another $8.99 for the unlimited streaming content.  What the fuck?!  We’re not talking a 10, 20, 30% increase here.  You are doubling the price!  What kind of business model is that?!  Is it the “I’m gonna bend my loyal customers over a chair and rape them without any lube” business model?

Look, I get it.  Streaming content is the wave of the future, and Netflix needs to shift to capitalize on that.  And hell, if you were implementing this pricing change for new customers, I would totally be on board.  But to do it to your existing customers, it’s like a girl saying that you can take her virginity, and then at the last minute saying that she can’t have sex because she’s on the rag.

In a world where Netflix didn’t exist to digitally dickslap its customers across the face:

• I wouldn’t have had to let my pride get the better of me, leading me to cancel my 1 DVD by mail and keeping only the streaming option.
• As a result, I wouldn’t be forced to get excited about the newest Netflix Instant Releases:  Kung Pow: Enter the Fist and Halloween: H20.
• I wouldn’t have to head to 7-11 to rent a REAL new release from the RedBox machine like one of… you people.
• Blockbuster and Hollywood Video would still be relevant commissaries of commerce.
• I wouldn’t be filled with contempt and left to plan how I’m going to firebomb the Netflix headquarters.

I urge all you, if you haven’t already done so, to call Netflix and tell them to go fuck yourselves.  Now, mind you, I set out to do the same thing, expecting them to beg for my business when I told them I was going to cancel membership.  I expected them to bow on my feet, showering me with praise for being a loyal customer for the past 6 years, and maybe offering me a free month or two, or allowing me to keep my current rate.  However, that was not the case.  Quite the contrary in fact.  They shrugged their shoulders and basically said, “see ya!”  But apparently they are feeling the backlash with the 10% drop in their stocks.  Continue to fight the good fight and stick it to the man because companies need to remember what the meaning of customer service is again.

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Et tu Netflix?

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But one has to have dreams right?

 

Species Name:  Spinelessius Scumbagicus

I’m banking on this post being HUGE in Canada because most of you probably don’t have any fucking clue who Sean Avery is.  All you need to know about Sean Avery is that he is a professional hockey player, but is more noteworthy for his off-the-ice antics than anything he’s ever contributed to any team he’s been a part of.  As a ravenous hockey fan since I stopped shitting in diapers, this Dbag has been a thorn in my side for the last decade.  It’s one thing after another with this tool, because at his core he’s more of an attention whore than Paris Hilton.

Early this morning, Avery was arrested at his Hollywood home for the misdemeanor charge of battery… on a police officer.  If you ask me, the cops let this dipshit off easy.  He should’ve been charged with felony assault, so that maybe, just maybe, this pimple on the NHL’s ass might have to be thrown in prison and if were lucky, raped over and over again by a large, well-endowed African American cellmate before being put to death by firing squad shooting rubber bullets (just to really drag it out).

Some people love Sean Avery because he’s hockey’s “bad boy.”  Look, we’re okay with not having a “bad boy.”  There’s enough “bad boys” in the NFL, NBA, and MLB combined to meet the world’s “bad boy” quota.  Our “bad boys” handle their shit on the ice with some good ole fashioned fisticuffs instead of blabbing verbal diarrhea to some dumb reporter.  That’s a bitch move.  Then again, Avery did intern at Vogue Magazine and is a self-proclaimed “clothes-whore.”  So, the apple might not fall far from the tree if you catch my psuedo-implied homosexual drift.

In a world where Sean Avery didn’t exist to be the NHL’s imperishable cockroach:

• He wouldn’t be the first asshole to get an NHL rule named after him.  The “Avery Rule” was created in 2008, after Avery repeatedly put his arms in New Jersey Devils goalie Martin Brodeur’s eyeline, blocking him from being able to see the puck and being a childish prick in the process.  Seriously, asshole.  What are you eight years old?

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• Avery wouldn’t have referred to Toronto Maple Leaf defenseman Dion Phaneuf dating Avery’s ex-girlfriend/actress Elisha Cuthbert as getting his “sloppy seconds.”  Look, nobody’s arguing that Phaneuf was indeed getting your sloppy seconds but have a little goddamn class.  Like it or not, you represent the NHL every time you open your dumbass mouth to some reporter.  If anything, embrace the fact that you guys are eskimo brothers now.  That’s called unity, bitch!

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• In 2007, The Kings would’ve held onto veteran defenseman Matthieu Schneider who would’ve helped bring the Kings win the Stanley Cup… maybe. But instead we traded him for Avery and that other useless bag of pucks, Maxim Kuznetsov.

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• New Line Cinema wouldn’t have commissioned a screenplay about Sean Avery, a hockey player who moonlights as a fashionista in New York City.  Really?  With all the great ideas out there, you thought that would be a winner, New Line?  Can I make a casting suggestion?  How about Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.  That asshole will star in any piece of shit.

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• We wouldn’t be able to laugh at the quote that Avery provided ESPN when asked about his interest in women’s fashion over mens: “You do suits and pants and that’s about that. Women’s clothes tell a story. That’s what’s interesting to me.”  Just play hockey you goddamn idiot… that, and/or go fuck yourself.

How many more chances does this guy really deserve to not be a complete waste of humanity?  It’s times like these that I wish the NHL’s chief fucktard, Gary Bettman, would take a cue from NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and throw the book at this disgrace to the great game of hockey.  That, or teams need to stop signing this ignoramus because he’s way more of a headache than he’s worth.  Let him go play dress up while the real men play hockey.

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But one has to have dreams, right?

Species Name: Oncefunnyius Nowhackius

This one hurts.  It hurts because I can still recite every word of Billy Madison and Happy Gilmore like it were a Shakespearean sonnet.  It hurts because I listened to “They’re All Gonna Laugh at You” so much as a kid that my mom probably thought I was retarded.  But mainly it hurts because I know that somewhere deep down, Adam Sandler still has the potential to make good movies like Punchdrunk Love and The Wedding Singer.  But instead, prefers to bombard us with diarrhea grenades that he calls movies.  Exhibit A, his newest film, Jack and Jill due to be released on November 11th, 2011:

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You’re traveling down a dangerous road, Sandler.  That road lies between Norbit Ave. and The Nutty Professor 2: The Klumps Blvd.  Clearly you’re ignoring the signs that read, “Dead End,” and instead seem determined to follow in the footsteps of your fellow SNL alum, Eddie Murphy.  Well, we all know how that worked out.  You’re one more shitty movie away from “helping” a tranny hooker out by “giving her a ride home.”  Adam, I’m really sorry about this, but you’ve left you no other choice.

In a world where Adam Sandler didn’t exist to make movies that could make Going Overboard look good:

• We wouldn’t have to be subjected to you taking all your buddies on a vacation and making an unfunny movie out of it.  P.S. – Kevin James getting hit in the nuts isn’t funny.  It’s funny when it happens to anyone else, just not Kevin James.

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• Speaking of Kevin James, if Sandler didn’t exist, James would’ve faded into oblivion after “King of Queens” like God meant him to, but instead:

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• Rob Schneider would be living on Skid Row.

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• Hummus would’ve remained a delicious snack instead of the precipice to base a whole unfunny movie around.

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• We’d still think Judd Apatow knew how to direct.

• David Spade would be sharing Rob Schneider’s cardboard box on Skid Row.

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Look, I realize there is something to be said for being loyal to your friends, especially after you become a big star.  But, at what cost?  I mean shouldn’t you only be loyal to them if they’re actually talented?  After all, it’s the American public that’s had to suffer through Dickie Roberts: Former Child Star, The Hot Chick, and now Zookeeper.

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As much as I wish I could just thin Sandler’s career from the last decade instead of the whole thing, that’s not the way this hypothetical blog game works.  Unfortunately it comes down to, “what have you done for me lately?”  Click?  Bedtime Stories?  I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry?  Your IMDB resume speaks for itself, Adam.  You used to be a comedian I looked up to because you refused to fit into the typical Hollywood mold, but now, I hate to say it, and believe me it hurts… but you’re… well… a hack, completely conforming to that Hollywood mold.

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But one has to have dreams right?

Species Name:  Notalentassclownicus Torturedfartistius

This one has been brewing in my colon for a while and I now feel ready to shit all over Sofia Coppola.  There are few people in this world that I despise more than this pretentious, privileged, untalented, angsty, fartist (“fake artist”).  To give a little context as to why now I’m choosing to defecate on Sofia’s face, she has just announced her newest film Secret Door starring Kirsten Dunst.  The most aggravating part of this announcement is that she’s not releasing a synopsis of the film but instead is only releasing the first scene of her screenplay so we can all revel in her brilliance.  She seems to be trying to create an ere of mystery for something that no one gives two shits about.

I have had nothing but contempt for this broad since she ruined what could’ve been the greatest trilogy of all time.  Exhibit A:

Now, picture how much more emotional that scene would’ve been if you hadn’t been hoping that “Mary” (Sofia Coppola) would get shot so we would be spared any more of her “acting.”  Believe it when I say this movie would’ve won “Best Picture,” thus completing the first ever trifecta “Best Picture” win, at the 1990 Oscars had it not been for Sofia Coppola.

Before all you die hard Lost in Translation fans show up at my door with torches and pitchforks, bitching and complaining about how I’m just jealous that I don’t have a famous director father to make my life easier… well, you’re right.  I’m not hating on Sofia for having one of the greatest filmmakers of all time as her father.  I’m hating on her because she sucks.

In a world where Sofia Coppola didn’t exist to make pointless, asinine movies:

• I wouldn’t have had to endure The Virgin Suicides which made ME want to commit suicide  by the end of the opening credits. The only redeeming quality of that film being Air’s musical score.
• My TV wouldn’t have been thrown through my living room window after Sofia won the Oscar for “Best Original Screenplay” for Lost in Translation.  The script had six words in it!

• Marie Antoinette would’ve never been made and the same amount of people would’ve paid to see it — zero.
• Spike Jonze would’ve dodged a major bullet and in turn wouldn’t have lost some of his cred for marrying Sofia.  Christ, can you imagine being married to this boring bitch?!

• I would’ve been spared a lot of “I told you so’s” to friends who went to see her last film, Somewhere.

Let’s face reality here — Sofia Coppola would be a nobody if it wasn’t for her father.  Her films are average to unbearable, her face lacks any semblance of personality, and she sucks.  Did I mention that last point yet?  It’s beyond aggravating that the indie film world fawns all over this chick.  Have you people actually sat and watched any of her movies?  I would rather have someone shove a glass test tube up my urethra and then squeeze my dick like it was a stress ball, then be subjected to watching Lost in Translation again.  Nobody thinks you’re a tortured artist when you’ve had a silver spoon in your mouth your entire life.  Stop your moping goddamnit! I wonder if “Mosca” is looking for work and if he’s still a good shot.

But one has to have dreams right?

Species Name: Prepubescentius Internetwhoricus

There have been some songs over the years that have made more than just my ears bleed.  Certain songs have made me bleed out of every orifice in my body.  Yes, every orifice.  When I first heard “Barbie Girl” by Aqua, I was an innocent, impressionable fifteen year old boy and afterwards, my childhood was officially over.  When I first heard Billy Ray Cyrus’ “Achy Breaky Heart,” I laughed at all those retards who called country music “music” and knew that Billy Ray would eventually have a daughter that he would exploit to keep himself socially relevant.  And when I first heard “Macarena” by Los Del Rio, I gave em a pass for being foreigners and not knowing any better.  Despite how absolutely fucking annoying those songs might have been, they pale in comparison to Rebecca Black’s “Friday.”

America, stop it!  I let Justin Bieber slide because, lets face it, that little lesbian can dance.  But this Rebecca Black, has not one goddamn discernible talent.  Based on the fact that her lyrics consist of days of the week, I think it’s safe to say that she can’t write past an 8th grade level (probably because she’s a fucking 8th grader).  Regarding her sex appeal, she doesn’t have any.  And don’t give me that “she’s only fourteen” shit because Britney Spears never looked better than she did in her “Hit Me Baby One More Time” video (Damn, I hope I don’t end up on Megan’s List for this).  Finally, there is the issue of Rebecca Black’s voice, but who the fuck knows what that sounds like because her voice is so autotuned, she sounds more robotic than Vicki from Small Wonder.

In a world where Rebecca Black didn’t exist and I didn’t have to lose my faith in humanity:

• Mrs. Black would’ve bought Mr. Black a vasectomy for his birthday and this whole travesty would’ve been avoided.
• Anaheim would’ve contributed one less asshole to the world.
• The ARK music factory would’ve found some other child to whore out to America.
• Friday would still exist in Saturday’s shadow, where it belongs.
• 39,000,000 people would’ve have received that precious 3 minutes and 48 seconds of their life back

My girlfriend teaches 8th grade English and she asked her students to say who their hero was.  One student said, “Rebecca Black’s parents. They have extreme talent in paying for a terrible video that embarrases their child. After that they pay youtube to mark comments as spam and remove thumbs up/down to protect her feelings. They have created black hole filled with criticism.”

Now, that’s a fourteen year old with some insight.  I’d buy that fourteen year old’s single on iTunes.  But Rebecca, I don’t care what day of the week is your favorite because you’re a no talented ass clown on all of them.

But one has to have dreams right?

 

Species Name: Tonedeaficus Boringius

Will someone please stop telling this broad she can sing?  The last person I can remember with such a below mediocre voice managing to parlay it into quasi profit was Eddie Murphy.

At least with Eddie though, the only person who took him seriously was Rick James, and that guy was high on enough on blow to kill a herd of elephants.  But with Gwyneth, it’s as if people are actually reaching out to her for her singing abilities.  What the fuck, people?  Did nobody see Duets?! Oh wait, bad example, because nobody saw Duets.  But if they had, they would’ve seen this vomit inducing vocal performance which should have ended any potential singing career for Paltrow:

Come on, Huey.  You’re better than that.  Needless to say, it seemed we were all safe for the next decade, until she did that movie about people singing about their lovers leaving them alone in their double-wide trailers, crying into their Miller High Life.  I’m referring to Country Strong, which most of you didn’t see unless your IQ manages to be equivalent to that of a tsetse fly.  So she sang a couple of songs in that, big fucking deal.  Anybody can sing country music because it all sounds like shit.  Not only that, but it all sounds like the same shit.

Since Country Strong though, it seems like you can’t turn around without seeing Paltrow butchering some classic song.  If she at least had some charisma it would be one thing, but she seems like as dead a fish performing as she undoubtedly must be with Chris Martin in the bedroom.  Or maybe she saves all her energy for the bedroom.  Let’s hope for that at least… for Chris’ sake.

In a world where Gwyneth Paltrow didn’t exist to make all our ears bleed and bore us to tears:

• Chris Martin wouldn’t have to shake his head in disbelief every time she tries belting out a song.  Chris: “I’m the bloody singer and you’re the bloody actress.  That’s the deal we agreed upon!  Now, let’s hurry up and take our retardly named son, Apple, to school.”

• Gwyneth Paltrow wouldn’t have to be treated like your friend at karaoke who you wish would’ve just remained an observer instead of becoming a performer.  You know you’ve had to rustle up a pity clap or two for those friends.
• Cee-Lo Green wouldn’t have needed muppets on stage during your Grammy’s performance of “Forget You” to compensate for your lack of stage presence, Gwyneth.

• Blythe Danner could’ve gone back to the drawing board and attempted to pop out an actually talented offspring.
• We could all forget about Gwyneth’s mediocre film career as well.  And all you Gwyneth fans can stop lauding Shakespeare in Love over our heads.  It was thirteen years ago, and it was her one decent movie.

Congrats, Glee-tards.  You can all rejoice that Gwyneth will be returning to “Glee” this upcoming week to butcher yet another song.  This time it’s Joan Jett’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me?”

No, Gwyneth.  Nobody wants to touch your emaciated corpse of a body.  We’re all too afraid that you might snap in half.  Wait a second!  That’s it!  That’s how we can rid the world of Gwyneth Paltrow!  I’ll call up Christ Martin and tell him to give it to her extra hard the next time they have their annual roll in the hay.  If all goes according to plan, she will shatter into a million pieces and we can all go on with our lives.

But one has to have dreams right?

Species Name:  Overexposicus Familius

The name may be generic but the family considers themselves to be anything but.  Yes, I’m talking about Will Smith, Jada Pinkett-Smith, Jaden Smith, and that little follicle flipping whore, Willow.  I detest this family.  Sure, they look good in a family portrait, but I know I can’t be the only one who is sick of this family’s overexposure.  It’s one thing to be a Hollywood power couple, but it’s a completely different thing to whore your children out at every turn.

Will Smith was more than likable as the “Fresh Prince” and Jada Pinkett was decent enough in…uh…. Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight.  But instead of just making millions and then focusing on raising their family, the Smith’s have been pimping their kids out since they came out of the womb.  Jaden was the star of a TV show at five years old and Willow had her first movie role as Will Smith’s daughter in I Am Legend at the age of seven.  Are the Smith’s compensating for their own bizarre sex life that has been the talk of Hollywood for over a decade?  Quite possibly.  The rumor is that Will and Jada are both bisexual and have been known to swing from time to time.  Again, these are just rumors, but considering that they seem to be in love with themselves, it wouldn’t surprise me that they’d want both genders to “experience” all they have to offer.

The biggest problem I have with the Smith’s is that they seem hellbent to make every other American family feel like worthless losers who aren’t doing anything with their lives.  That and they insist on naming their kids after themselves.  What a bunch of vain assholes.  Hate to break it to you Will, but just because you squirted these kids out of your ballsack doesn’t mean they’re destined to be God’s gift to the world.

In a world where the Smith’s didn’t exist to force their precocious brats down our throats:

• We wouldn’t have to endure Will Smith remaking Annie with Willow in the title role and Jay-Z doing the music.  Come on Will, if you are going to rob your daughter of a childhood, at least come up with something original.  You already ruined The Karate Kid after all.

• A ten year old wouldn’t be singing the lyrics, “Don’t let haters keep me off my grind.”  I’m twenty-eight years old and I don’t have any idea what that means.
• No one would’ve had to endure the mediocrity that is, The Pursuit of Happyness.
• Jada’s show “Hawthorne” wouldn’t exist but it wouldn’t be any big loss because nobody watches the show currently anyway.
• They would need to find another actor to play President Obama in the future biopic.  We all know the REAL reason the Smith’s donated all that money to Obama’s campaign…

It’s so hard to swallow that we’ll have to endure more infectious pop songs and bastardizations of classic films by this family.  But the reality of the situation is that these kids haven’t even hit puberty yet and although they might hit that awkward phase like Jonathan Lipnicki or Haley Joel Osmont, I fear we won’t be that lucky.  If I had to hedge my bets, I’d wager that it’s more likely that this country turns into a monarchy run by the Smith’s.  The only one in this family I like anymore is the oldest kid, who up to this point has not insisted on being in the I will die before I hail King Will and Queen Jada!

But one has to have dreams right?

 

Species Name:  Lazinessius Capitalizaticus

The dangerous side effect of taking large breaks between TTH posts is that they have that much longer to gestate in my brain until I become so filled with rage I could snap a midget in half.  Living in Los Angeles, I’ve grown to despise valet parking.  It’s everywhere, whether you want to go to a swanky restaurant or even just visit your local doctor, these assholes have found a way to nickel and dime us to use their space, that isn’t even their fucking space!  I mean, seriously, what has the world come to when we’re being charged to park our car somewhere?  Have you really sat back and thought about just how ridiculous that is?  It’s not like in most of these valet parking lots, these dipshits are saving you the trouble of parking your car eight blocks away.  No, you literally pull up, hand your car over to them so that they can park it four feet away from where you are standing.  Great, so glad I’m paying you $10 plus tip to save me that fucking inconvenience.

In a world where valet parking didn’t exist to take advantage of lazy shits:

• We wouldn’t have to secretly worry that every time we drop our car off with a valet they’re secretly about to embark on a Ferris Bueller escapade which will then lead to you having  to worry about setting the odometer back so that you’re overbearing dad doesn’t beat you ass.

• I wouldn’t like a fucking cheapskate refusing to pay for valet parking and driving around like for twenty minutes looking for a spot because that would actually be considered normal operating procedure.
• You wouldn’t get back in your car to find everything changed.  The seat setting, mirror setting, it smells like farts, and your stereo has been turned off.  I’m sorry you don’t appreciate the Hall and Oates that I’m bumping down Sunset Boulevard but guess what asshole?  It ain’t your car, stop touching shit!
• You wouldn’t have to feel like a loser when your car isn’t “cool” enough that it doesn’t get displayed at the front of the valet pack.  Trust me, it’s not worth upgrading to a douchemobile.
• You wouldn’t feel inclined to buy into the vest and bowtie bullshit as if valet parking is some classy American pastime that you’re fortunate enough to take part in.  It’s all smoke and mirrors!

People who own valet parking companies are the dregs of society.  The fact that they get off on charging a fee to park your car somewhere that would otherwise be free makes them nothing more than a bag of dicks.  I yearn for a world where people aren’t looking to rip us off at every turn, but alas, it only seems to be getting continually worse no matter how much deeper we plunge into the infinite abyss of recession.  Next time you think about valeting your car, don’t.  Think of it as your little way of sticking it to the man.  Don’t try to rationalize it by telling yourself, “Well I worked some overtime this week, so I’ve got some extra cash to burn.”  No!  Save that extra cash for a lap dance or a Double Down at KFC.  Don’t you dare give it to one of these penguin-looking motherfuckers.  It’s the principle, man!  That being said, after eating a Double Down, you probably won’t be able to walk more than half a block and in turn be forced to valet.  It’s a vicious cycle…

But one has to have dreams right?

Species Name: Makinglivesalivinghellicus Sadisticus

So to be clear, this entry is to cover every asshole in every city whose job it is to hand out parking tickets.  I went with “Meter Maid” because it sounded the most degrading and the closest nomenclature that could accurately represent how much I hate these bottom-feeders of society.

You all deserve a little background in regards to my recent fury towards these municipal twats.  I live near a school (and yes, within 50 feet so you can rest assured that I am not a pederast), and consequently, I also live in a neighborhood that has very sparse street parking.  Well, last night I returned home around midnight and as expected, street parking was hard to come by.  I planned on going to the gym the next morning so I decided to park along the school where you need to move your car by 7am because it’s a school bus drop off zone.  Long story short, my alarm went off at 6:15am, and I promptly snoozed it as a result of the multiple glasses of wine I had consumed the previous night and proceeded to enjoy another hour of slumber.  As my alarm chimed at 7:15am, I went about my morning ritual of a good long urination when it dawned on me.  “Oh, shit!”  I threw on some clothes and rushed outside in the hopes that the parking ticket gods might have smiled some good fortune upon me.  Well, we all know just how “wishful thinking” worthy that is.  To my utter lack of shock, I found that little fucking piece of paper under my windshield wiper, taunting me, judging me.  When I pulled the ticket off my windshield and took a glance at it, I expected it be $40-50, cause this wasn’t my first rodeo and I knew how much parking tickets usually run in L.A.  $85 FUCKING DOLLARS?!  ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!

Just when I had gotten used to paying the obligatory $40-50, they hit me with double the ticket because I was in a school zone.  I hate these goddamn motherfuckers so goddamn much.  Instead of sending the City of Los Angeles a check for the aforementioned $85, I’m tempted to instead go to my bank, get $85 in quarters, and video tape myself pouring them into my toilet as I flush it as a protest metaphor, and mailing that in.  However, when rationality rushed back into my brain, I realized, I would still wind up having to pay the $85 ticket, would’ve just wasted another $85 in quarters (and that’s a lot of loads of laundry) and probably would need to hire a plumber.

It seems redundant to list why the world would be a better place without these goddamn masochistic Meter Maids.  But instead let me just say this:  People hate cops, right?  Fuck that, you know why?  Because although cops are dicks…they at least do some good in the world.  They stop the occasional bad guy when they’re not busy eating Beef n’ Cheddars at Arby’s.  But fucking meter maids just live to make people’s lives miserable.

Listen up Meter Maids, you insignifi-cunts!  You should really consider thinning yourselves from the herd because frankly, you should be embarrassed to be the scourge of society.  Why don’t you go to college to make something of your life, make a fucking difference instead of writing bullshit tickets to ruin people’s days.  Fucking assholes.  If reincarnation exists, I would rather come back as a housefly who enjoys bathing in shit than one you pricks.

But one has to have dreams right?

Species Name: Incompetenticus Runthisstateintothegroundius

California is fucked.  We used to be the 8th largest economy in the world, and now we have a $19 billion deficit.  Thanks, Governator…don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.  Arnold Schwarzenegger did fuck this state up royally but here’s the rub, the constituents are the ones who put that asshole in office.  We were the laughing stock of the entire world when we elected “Conan the Barbarian” to run our state.  In essence, we kind of got what we deserved, and then we re-elected him.

To be fair to Arnold though, it’s not ALL his fault, he was Governor during the worst economic recession this country has seen since the Depression of ’29.  So here we stand, less than a week before our midterm elections in California.  A chance to wipe the slate clean, start anew.  It’s like sleeping on fresh, clean sheets…fresh, clean shits, covered in the diarrhea that is California’s economy.

Next Tuesday, seven to ten people will go to the polls to elect our new governor, and their choices are Meg “I ran an online garage sale company and that makes me qualified to run a state” Whitman, and Jerry “Get off my lawn, you kids!” Brown.  Really?  This is the best we could do?  Seriously?  Downtown Jerry Brown has already been governor, but frankly shit the bed and Meg Whitman hates Mexicans apparently.  After being so compelled to vote in the 2008 presidential election, eager to rid the bad taste in my mouth left from W., I would love to feel just as compelled to elect a new Governor of California…but I don’t.  Honestly, the Government of California has everything so ass backwards right now, I don’t know what to think, other than maybe we should just clean house in Sacramento, declare bankruptcy as a state, and take the credit hit in the form of continuing to be the laughing stock of the country.

In a world where the Government of California didn’t exist to ruin the greatest state in the country:

• People would still be envious of Californians for reasons other than our weather.
• Gary Coleman would’ve been elected Governor, died, Mary Carey would’ve taken over, and we’d still be in better shape than we are now.
• Californians wouldn’t be left thinking, “Hmm…maybe we shouldn’t have recalled that Gray Davis guy…”
• Film/TV Production wouldn’t be fleeing the state in droves to shoot in states with better tax incentives.  Hey California, you do realize that the entertainment industry makes up a buttload of the state’s revenue right?
• We wouldn’t be the U.S. version of what Greece is to the rest of the world.
• We might have people in office who would’ve come up with a brighter idea than thinking legalization of marijuana is the answer.  It could be, if anybody would vote in favor of legalization.  We’re progressive guys, but not that progressive unfortunately.

Regardless of whoever wins Tuesdays election, they’re going to face many of the major hurdles that President Obama is facing.  It will take their entire term to turn the tide if they’re lucky.  It’s shocking that so many government officials in Sacramento stood by with dumbfounded expressions and let this state go to shit.  Get it together, California!

But one has to have dreams right?