Are you feeling free today?

While writing a post for another site I administer, I told somebody to “feel free” to review a webcomic. I realized that I, and a lot of people, say this phrase. It is a common phrase:

“Feel free.”

It’s meant to suggest that these people don’t need to worry about your opinion. It’s meant to be an invitation for somebody to do what they want to do.

But it isn’t an invitation. It’s not like you’re telling somebody, “Hey man, go ahead and feel free if you feel like feeling free today.” No, you’re telling them to “feel free.” It’s not an invitation, it’s a command. You’d might as well say it like it sounds.

“Feel free, you asshole! Dammit, feel free already! What do I have to do to make you feel free? Do I have to read you the Bill of Rights? Do I have to forcibly strip you naked and put you in a grassy meadow with prancing unicorns and butterflies for you to finally decide to feel free? What’s it gonna take? Feel free already! FEEL FREE!”

It sounds to me like something a general would say to a soldier. “Feel free to blow that guy’s brains out with your rifle, soldier.”

Feel free. Feel free. Say that aloud a few times. Loses meaning, doesn’t it? It turns into a chant. “Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free.” Like you’re goading somebody along. Like in a secret society or some shit.

“Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free.” A slow chant. Like you’re in the Ku Klux Klan. Or you’re a Nazi chanting to der Fuhrer.

“Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free. Feel free.”

“Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good. Feel good.”

“Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine. Feel fine.”

And you’re feeling free, you’re feeling good, you’re feeling fine.



But at what cost?



Michael Jackson, Farah Fawcett Die on the Same Day

Michael Jackson.

Farah Fawcett.

Whenever two good people have been lost, one a great music artist, one a beautiful actress, people feel a need to grieve, and mourn, without feeling like horrible scumbags.

So I’m going to take what we’re all thinking and just come right out and say it, so we can look at that thought and reflect on it and heal, and hopefully become better people for having our psyches cleaned of our dirty disgusting thoughts.

Here goes:

The world’s most beautiful white woman and the man that most wanted to be a beautiful white woman, have died on the same day.

I apologize for subjecting you all to my horrible machinations. I am a horrible person for thinking something so wicked. I am prepared for your hostilities.

The important thing to remember is that both are now at peace. There shall be no more suffering from cancer for Fawcett, and perhaps Jackson too will be able to rest in peace from his inner demons and mental problems.

And now for the obits:

Jackson had a fascinating life. His early days were quite a thriller, and often completely off-the-wall. Sometimes Jackson seemed downright invincible. Of course, over time things got dangerous, and the child molestation suits were downright bad. Of course, he will always be remembered for his pop music legacy; the entire industry will be forever Michael.

As for Fawcett, she got famous through Charlie’s Angels, where she became well known for her voluptuous extremities (and I don’t mean the off-Broadway play she starred in), not to mention her smile and acting and all that, but mostly, well, you know. For a very long time Hugh Hefner chased her, trying to get her to show her extremities. Finally she relented, and allowed him to show them when she (and they) were about 48. And she also showed her smile, of course. Not so much her acting ability.

She passed of cancer, and yet somehow Hugh Hefner survives her. I don’t get it either.

Anyhow, I hear they’re going to heaven, and some angels will lead their way. Apparently a guy told ’em to come. I hear his name is Charlie.

Rest in peace, you two.

This is a Neda Soltan. She Prints Money.

In case you haven’t lost all faith in humanity yet, here’s yet another step in the gradual collapse of Western civilization.

That’s right. Somebody has already made an Obama ripoff T-shirt showing the bloodied dead corpse of Iranian protester Neda Soltan with the phrase “WE WILL NEVER FORGET”.

In a matter of, oh, around twelve hours or so since Neda Soltan was brutally murdered by pro-government Iranian forces some asshole has already trivialized her death in a bid to make some cash off of the kind of person that gets off on having a picture of a dead and bloodied Iranian girl on his shirt.

Y’know, exploitation and stuff.

I can only imagine the way Neda Soltan would feel about this if she were alive. Because I’ll bet a young woman like her would really want to be remembered lying dead on an Iranian street in throngs of helpless protesters, rather than as a vibrant, beautiful young woman with a life ahead of her.

I mean, is it so much to ask for T-shirt makers to at least use one of the pictures of her before she was brutally shot to death?

Notice how they subtly crossed out her name with blood. Great job, random brainless shirt-selling douche!

I have no more words for this. I hope that Ms. Soltan rests in peace, I hope the situation in Iran is peacefully and rightfully resolved, and I hope whoever made these T-shirts gets a swift kick in the ass for using Neda Soltan’s memory for profit.

A Commentary on Getting Old, By A Young Person

Yesterday my grandmother went to the hospital for X-rays. Her hip replacements stopped her pain for a short time, but it was not to last. She is unsure of what is going on. She is terrified that she will have to endure yet more surgery.

She waits for the doctors to confirm the results. The doctors gave her painkillers she won’t take, but she can’t sleep through the pain.

And here I’m thinking, “Gee golly, I’m glad all I have to take is some melatonin before bed! Fuck getting old! It must suck!”

Many argue the young don’t worry about getting old. That’s a bald-faced lie. We worry about it daily. That’s why we want to die young.

I don’t want to end my life in pain and misery, fucking around with shitty hospitals and people that don’t care about me. I want to die in a blaze of glory. I want to die with my arms around a sexy woman, driving a big-ass American truck down to my doom, preferably by nuclear bomb or some other manly way to die.

Life’s too short to die boring.

Tips for Shopping at Your Local Dollar Store

Every town has one. You know, that place where everything costs a dollar. Near my house it’s called the Dollar Tree, but it takes many names. It’s a great place to go if you have a dollar in your pocket and no common sense in your head.

Here are some tips for getting the most out of your experience at the local dollar store:

-Everything there is something you could buy at a Wal-Mart for more money. One day, you’ll be walking the aisles of Wal-Mart looking for a barbecue lighter. You pay, say, three bucks. Next week you see it at the Dollar Store for a dollar! How do they do it?

Some think it has to do with the fact that they use Chinese labor. They hope that’s why.

Usually, though, it’s because everything at the Dollar Store is crap.

Strolling down aisles at a dollar store is like going to the Island of Misfit Toys. It’s depressing. They’ve got toy dogs with no heads, and toy dolphins whose skin feels like old used condoms. They have neon-colored flyswatters. They have food harvested from Zimbabwe.

Just remember: If you go to the Dollar Store, you’re purchasing crap you could have bought at Wal-Mart for an extra two dollars. And from Wal-Mart it would actually work right.

Dont buy these. Ever.

Don't buy these. Ever.

-Everybody at the dollar store is incredibly depressing. When you go, everybody will be dejected, all the time, and those that aren’t dejected are pedophiles. Many will be wearing Crocs shoes and old flip-flops. Don’t be an asshole to any of these people. Except for the pedophiles.

-Don’t buy any of their food, ever, except for snacks with brand names. I have never bought a jar of pickles from the dollar store. I will never buy a jar of pickles from the dollar store. Food should be bought at a supermarket, not at a place that puts hard salami on a shelf next to a pair of novelty sunglasses.

I hope this article has been enlightening. I sure feel enlightened, but it might just be this Dollar Store flashlight.

Definition of the Day: Shrimporee

Shrimporee \shrim-puh-ree\ (n.): Term describing a festival where almost everything involves shrimp. Named for a very specific festival in Southeast Texas where they wheel out a humongo shrimp made out of papier-mache and use it as an excuse to hold a big carnival with rides and Christians and shit.


“Did you get the shrimp cocktail, Fred? Our shrimporee requires lots of shrimp. And possibly hookers.”

“Goddammit, Denise! You know at Shrimporee they offer nothing but fried shrimp! We’re in Texas! It’s not like in New Orleans where they know how to cook seafood!


David Letterman’s “Bristol” Joke

For those confused by my post, “Jeep People are Disgusting”, it was a joke. I was as both poking fun at the Jeep culture–known for its snobs as much as any other–and at the ridiculous anger directed at SUVs like Jeeps from Prius drivers. I thought that the article was so ridiculous there was no way anybody could take it seriously, but I was wrong. If you didn’t get the joke, reread the article, and if you still don’t get it, my bad.

(This is much the same as with my Maddox article. I allege in the article that Maddox is a chauvinist, a terrible writer, that his work isn’t satire, and that his last several articles suck. Only one of the above is an opinion I hold. See if you can figure out which one is the real truth.)

Nevermind that. The airwaves are alive with yet another non-event, in this case regarding David Letterman and a comment regarding Sarah Palin’s daughter Bristol.

To start with, the full video of the joke (information quoted, feel free to skim over it if you’ve already heard):

Since this joke aired, Sarah Palin has alleged that Letterman is making a joke about rape. Specifically, she is claiming that Letterman is actually referring to Palin’s younger, fourteen-year-old daughter, because her younger daughter was the only one that was with Palin at the Yankees game. Palin’s eighteen year old daughter-who wasn’t with her–was the one who’s known for promiscuity in the general media.

Now, I would like to give some thoughts from my position as a humorist (well, an attempted humorist) on this site.

To begin with, I think it’s quite clear that Letterman isn’t referring to Palin’s younger, fourteen-year-old daughter.

I make this assumption because the joke itself is stupid. I doubt Letterman knew which daughters were with Palin at the time, and I don’t think he and his writers really cared. I think it’s obvious that it was just an easy jab that Letterman was eager to grab for all it was worth.

On the other hand, I argue that the joke is also shit. I’m not sure if Letterman should issue an apology, but I think this joke and many others are clear evidence that he’s not funny anymore. This is much the same as when Don Imus made his “nappy-headed hos” comment, or when the “Kramer” guy made his “niggers” rant. The failure wasn’t in the content, the failure was in the delivery. It was lame.

The joke was unfunny to the point of blandness. It says something about David Letterman’s joke-telling ability when a joke about impregnating a teenage girl is considered bland.

I am offended by the joke first and foremost because it was unfunny and boring, bland drivel, not because it is “sexist” or “perverted” or any of the other bullshit Palin’s putting out there. If Letterman it fired for this joke, it should be because the joke is proof that he’s phoning this shit in and doesn’t even care about being funny anymore.

Your thoughts.