The Lack Of Alec Guinness Here Is Stunning...Just Stunning

I was watching some of the Star Wars prequel trilogy, over the weekend, and here's what I realized: If you don't pay close enough attention, you might think you're watching gay porn. The writing is bad, on a level that you wouldn't think a big budget movie could be. Should I remind anyone of Jar Jar Binks? And what was with that kid yelling "Yippee!" all the goddamn time? The effects? I don't know who thought they were good but the original star wars looked better. And, they made that movie with like popsicle sticks, glue, and safety scissors. It's also kind of amazing how bad the performances are from people who are good actors. They really might as well have started putting it in each other's asses. I was honestly surprised they did not.

I love Natalie Portman, in a way I've never loved anyone else, but what was she thinking acting with Hayden Christensen? He is made of popsicle sticks, glue, and safety scissors. I liked Jar Jar Binks' performance better and he clearly had some type of mental disability. The only person who really got through any of this with their acting dignity in tact was Liam Neeson. But he only had to be in one of them, so that was an advantage. Also, he was Liam Neeson, at the time. That helps too.

Anyway, I just thought I'd say something about how bad these movies were. Another thing I realized though is that what George Lucas was able to accomplish is that even though these movies are not good at all, I sat there and watched them instead of doing something else. And....if he is a genius, that is the only reason why.

Dog Bless The USA Cable Network

The past two days I've been watching The Westminster dog show. My whole life, I've always loved the dog show. It's like a big party where dogs are people and women are horrible looking and wear tacky clothing. Let's just say there were a lot of cankles roaming around that floor. Some of the dogs, it looked like they were being walked by trees.......which I, personally, thought would be pretty helpful whenever they needed to piss. But these dogs don't piss. They're champions. They just metaphorically piss on the idea of losing. They have their trainers piss for them, so they may continue enjoying their stroll. But the point being, the people involved in the dog show wouldn't necessarily be entered into the human show, if you know what I mean.

Personally, I like the herding and working dogs. They put food on the table, for their families. They rescue people in snowstorms, lock up criminals, fight in armies, and supervise unruly sheep who have been sent to prison camps. Those damn poodles sit up in their fucking ivory tower, with their jewelry and their caviar, and get their hair cut by a frenchman and they think they're fucking special. Poodles can suck it. Give me a Sheepdog. Like that guy that was friends with Babe. Remember him? Good guy. Or a Great Dane. Scooby Doo was a Great Dane. He could fucking talk and solve mysteries. Poodles can suck it.

I have to say I was a little disappointed with a lot of the show this year. My favorites got knocked out. The Scottish terrier that won was like a total bitch. Haha, dog humor. But I loved the best in show winner. His name was Stump. He was a Sussex Spaniel. He was the underdog, so to speak. Stump was ten years old. He already had retired. Then, he got a terrible disease and almost died, was miraculously cured, and he came out of retirement five years later just for this one last shot at glory. The competition was a bunch of fierce, young winners. The feeling was that he was a long shot, counted out before judging even started, by all the dog pundits. I, however, thought he was the best since the moment I saw him. I didn't even know his story, at that point. I just saw him and wanted to pet him and tell him that he was a "good boy". So, he won and the crowd erupted with sheer joy. It was like all of the Rocky movies combined into one super Rocky movie. I actually believe a Sussex Spaniel could potentially write and star in a Rocky movie. If Stallone did it, it wouldn't be surprising.

So, now the dog party is over. The flashy jackets and casual shoes have been put away and now they'll just go back to trying to get the dogs to fuck. It must be a tough life. But I'm glad that rich people make pretty dogs, for me to look at. I've never had a dog of my own and never really wanted one. But I like when they visit my living room every year on tv. They can't attack me from there......and I get the feeling those dogs wouldn't attack me if they were really in my living room. I guess what I'm saying is teach your fucking dogs to sit down. I'm tired of being humped and scratched. My penis isn't for them. This is people penis.

True Story

This is a new segment of the blog where I will tell you a true story, from my own life. Fun, right? I know.

So, the other night I was having dinner with my parents. It started innocently enough. ("Hey, here's a steak, have some potatoes.", etc...etc...) Then, after five or so minutes they just started yelling at me and telling me I need to get a job.

My mom told me that I have to because "everyone has to have a job."

I said "Why do I have to do what everyone is doing? If everyone jumps off a bridge, am I supposed to jump off a bridge?!".

Although I had clearly thoroughly outfoxed her using her own mom-logic, it somehow did not help my argument. You can't deal with these people. They have no ideology.

So, Do You Have Like......A Phone? Are There Numbers That Reach It? I'm Drunk.

I have an undying love for waitresses. There are two kinds of women I like; waitresses and singers. If you take me to a restaurant with singing waitresses, I'll bring an engagement ring. Actually, I like rich, famous women as well. I don't currently get to meet a lot of them though. My blog is not as popular as I would like.

I've been trying to pin down this waitress business for a long time. What is it that makes me like them? My first thought is that they have the amazing ability to bring me any food I want. That's quite an attractive trait. It's like they're my own personal Food Network show. I'm like "Hey, how about today we make some hamburgers with mushrooms, swiss, and bacon?" and they're like "Yeah, that all sounds great." and I can just ignore the middle part where a bunch of old drunks are making it.

Now, I can hear an argument some may have. "Hey, pal, maybe you just like good looking women." First of all, I'm not your pal. Second of all, you, sir or madam, are a fool. Why am I not writing about women that work at the bowling alley or at Best Buy? Perhaps there are just certain kinds of people that get into the profession. Maybe they are all masochists. Maybe I'm secretly a sadistic sexual deviant that gets off on the demeaning work of waiting tables. I don't think you can keep that secret from yourself though. So, I don't think that's it. That would be a terrible plight, huh? Just some guy trying to fondle yourself at Denny's. They kick you out, you can't even get your grand slam or orgasm, or whichever term you prefer.

Truth be told, I, most times, don't even engage my waitresses at all, aside from ordering and the usual formalities. They have an edge about them, they're jittery, it's like they could lose their minds, at any moment. You know what I mean? They've been there for hours, they're irritated, their boss is a son of a bitch that doesn't give them any thanks, the cooks are all assholes that put their dicks on the food, the table of kids in the corner was high on acid and tipped them with a cool looking rock they found in the parking lot, and creepy Joe sitting behind you thinks he's 25 years younger than he is and is trying to arrange a rendezvous, using lines he picked up from his son in high school.

I feel bad for them.

That could be part of it. They work really hard, and have to put up with a lot of bullshit, to provide me with happiness. It's kind of a living metaphor. It's almost like, just for that night or that day, we're in a beautiful relationship and the give and take of food and currency is really an exchange of love and appreciation. We don't have to say anything, we're just both there doing our part, for each other and for ourselves. It's a kind of harmony, made of half-smiles and working class dreams of escape, a love you wish were real and lasting. Springsteen ought to write a song about it.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just crazy. I'd like to think that's all true, that there's some beauty in the way I feel about waitresses or the way I feel about anything, for that matter. If you can see beauty in the mundane, possibly, it's easier to see the kind of beauty that matters.

This feeling for waitresses, of course, is all voided if they look like a frankenstein, zombie, or other corpse-ish figure. That's unpleasant. You have to keep some rules....even for things you love. I don't need the crypt keeper using witty quips and throwing to clips when I'm trying to get some extra napkins.

A Letter To The Academy Awards

Dear Academy Awards,

Please remove yourself from the holocaust's dick. It's getting old. Just get it over with and give Hitler an honorary award, for his contribution to cinema. If Kate Winslet as an illiterate Nazi is a better movie than The Dark Knight, then meat pie is my favorite pie and I don't like Hispanic women. And, don't be fooled. Those things are false. Blame every other pie in the world and Daisy Fuentes, if you must, but it won't change the truth. Maybe you should give awards to movies about other terrible things? Bombing the shit out of Japan perhaps? Oh, yeah, that's right, they don't like to make movies about that. Oh! Ending With A Message! In Your Face, America!

But seriously, give it a rest.

Love,
Anthony