What I'm Reviewing: A Year
Year according to highly trained midwives: 2008
And so, the intermission to this larger-than-average entry comes to an end. I must continue on my quest for truth, the quest for the BEST! But with every quest, comes a thirst. A thirst for THE WORST! and every thirst must be quenched, by a WENCH!- Or just a CHEESE AND MAYONNAISE SANDWICH! To those who are confused, be aware that this is the second part of the preceding blog entry, yet I have the audacity to numerate it as my eighth review. This is the spontaneity required by two distinct social groups: reviewers and druids. I'll keep you guessing at which one is my true form (hint: if you're wrong, I'll sprinkle ground Scottish hemlock on your back porch. "Minus three to dexterity" as Dungeon Keeper Magnus would say).
The Best Race: Italy's annual Donkey Race. In Italy, there are no horses. Only the braying beasts we've come to know as donkeys, asses, or as the Italians call them, Russets. Any slow-witted human could tell you that the Russet is the name of a common potato, but what they won't tell you is how the Donkeys appropriated the same potatoes into their arsenal back in the great Donkey Upheaval of Italy (DUI). Italians became the lower class and Donkeys became the oppressive dictator-like force that ended up crushing the Italian nobility. Mules were not to be trusted. Luigi Lucheni was actually a very clever, disguised Donkey who served as a catalyst to the change, known for yelling "equine rights!!" in cramped libraries. Lucheni would chuck vegetables (especially Russet potatos) at any and all humans, but only on Sunday nights. This of course mounted a following, and the DUI was in full effect. Eventually, like all violent revolutions, the main players were trumped and the new lower class Italians came back into power, with a clever anti-donkey tactician, Benito Mussolini. To this day, the Italians race donkeys as a symbolic way of exerting their will upon the once dominant beasts. Be aware, dissent is, and has been rising in the Donkey underground. News of "Donkey Races" has spread to other parts of the country, so if you feel pity for those simple animals being ridden upon, bear in mind, they are plotting your death as you read this.
The Worst Race: The Santa Race in Paris, France.
Now, I have nothing against Santa, and/or multiple Santas. But judging from the above image, there are some serious flaws to Paris's "Santa" race. First of all, the guy in the foreground on the left is clearly using some sort of back-mounted jet propellation. Second, what the hell is Charles Manson doing racing with a bunch of Santas anyway? He doesn't blend in at all and isn't he supposed to be in prison? Not to mention, I'm seeing two women santas in the back, and no one in here has a real beard. The AORBS (Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas) would highly frown upon this unbearded endeavor. But then again, it's more than just fake beards that rub their chins the wrong way, apparently they've now been murdering any children who happen to be on their respective naughty lists. Perhaps Charles Manson is the only fake Santa in the above image who does fit in. As a sidenote, being the lazy Parisian artists that all of them are, none of them would run if they didn't have a giant movie-monster chasing them; a "postmodern send-up to the hollywood mise-en-scene" as they labeled it. Of course, the monster had to be wearing a Santa outfit as well.
The Best Gender: Women.
An Accurate Depiction of "Woman"
The Worst Gender: Women.
- "What did I do wrong??"
An accurate woman's reaction to "Worst Gender"
The Best Crustacean: The Lobster
An Accurate Depiction of The Lobster In It's Natural Habitat
The Worst Crustacean: The Terrestrial Overgrown Krill
An Accurate Terrestrial Overgrown Krill's Reaction To "Worst Gender"
The Catchiest Tune: Rihanna's, anti-homeless anthem, "Disturbia". While this smash single barely holds a candle to last year's rampantly homosexual anthem, "Die For Metal" by Manowar (which is freakishly catchy, do not listen to it, or local homosexuals will fool you into going to one of their "heavy metal concerts"), Rihanna's hit single will tattoo itself on the inside of your cortex. While I have always lobbied for inner-brain ink, my good readers, this is not the tatt for votre tête. But why, Jacob? Good question, my ever-eluded peruser. Think of all the homeless people you may run into on the way to your favorite golf course. You probably think they are of little intelligence. Which is strange, because many homeless people happen to at least have a bachelor's degree in liberal arts. But wait, what were those alluring lyrics pouring from the caramel colored lady's sound mixer? "Bum bum be dumb, bum bum be dumb bum". Through my skilled usage of italics and bold typeface, it should all be clear to you now. It would seem that Rihanna's hit single, is an apt bit of hoboghanda. Trust not! For just as not every song can be as catchy as the next, not all bums be dumb dumb.
The Least Catchy Tune: "Tee dzooo bbahhhhohoko rackaracka balalaspasheee! tyhi tyhi shith dupree!"(repeat as necessary)*
*Do not sing words written in parentheses.**
** Do sing all words denoted by asterisks. Delivery of double asterisk notes should be at a lower octave.
The Best Alcoholic Beverage: Snake Wine.
What better way to bring in the new year of the Ox, but by drinking 8 year old snakesoaked wine? 2001 not only marked the year in which I would discover the truth of my druidic origins, it was also the year of the snake. This year I've done without champagne; if my forrays into the orient have taught me anything, it's that the only way to enjoy liquor is if something dead and scaly is floating in it. So let us drink viper corpse poison/liquor, bid farewell to the year of the Rat, and say hello to any and all newborn Oxen friends of ours. Being born in 1988, I am a dragon. Good luck to the children of 2009. In the race for world control that I call human existence, do you kids honestly think your husky oxen girth can take us fiery dragonfolk on in a duel? I doubt it. There's no way I'm going to be your babyboomer. As for the 2008 kids, I only feel pity. Doomed to being compared to rats for the duration of their lives, they have no choice but to become the next failed generation of Ja Rules and Melissa Joan Harts . At least, no rat wine exists, for the drinker would only be doomed to minor success and then blunt obscurity. They would also get a lot of fur in their mouth.
The Worst Alcoholic Beverage: The iWine. Steve Jobb's simplistic design was thought to be a big boom in the alcohol industry, but unfortunately his iWine (an iPhone floating around in a white bottle of whiskey, brandy, and apparently Bill Gates' tears) was unsuccesful. Many were disappointed that the submerged phone short-circuited by the time the bottle was empty. Some were mildly annoyed that Bill Gates's tears tasted peculiarly like the tears of Asian children. This didn't stop said drinkers from bragging about all the applications they currently had no access to. After observing the major disappointment iWine created in the marketplace, Google halted the distillation of their own to-be universally accesable Googlixir; apparently quite similar to Rat Wine. Yahoo are still going ahead with their YahooMoonshine: a rubber rat floating around in a jug of brine and fermented dog's pee.
The Best Non-Alcoholic Beverage: New Darjeeling Gunpowder Mountain Dew
The Worst Non-Alcoholic Beverage: Mashed Potato Pepsi.
The Best Murderer: Chris Rock, figuratively of course. His non-stop rapid-fire jokes in his most recent HBO special just KILLED ME! His humor is so edgy, but since he's already established his base audience he can practically get away with MURDER! He would never STAB OTHER COMEDIANS IN THE BACK to take their jokes. Burning down the house of any venue he plays with a fire of comedy, any human body he can find will be laughing once he's done. His comedy is akin to bouncing a rubber chicken up and down in vaseline and then hacking it up with a chainsaw!
The Worst Murderer: O.J. Simpson. He's like the Vanilla Ice of murderers. He did something BIG over ten years ago and he's still riding on the coattails of his previous misdemeanor. What a loser.
Disclaimer: Jacob McConnell does not promote crime, murder, nor causing harm to anyone's person. I must reiterate, for obvious legal reasons, that Chris Rock is not a murderer. I do not know him personally, though I would bet he likes a good martini and does not enjoy murdering people after drinking said martini. Maybe some video games. I don't know. He is a Dad, so does that mean he wouldn't want to play some Guitar Hero with a fellow comedy lover? I'm fairly sure he would, as the "Dad Bias" has been proven to be mostly mythical in comedy lovers.
The Best Light-Source: Christmas Lights.
Every year, the Jesus industry dreams up some new phosphorescence that further caters to the hidden creativity inside every home-owner and almost literally, throws fuel on the fire. The Great Chicago Fire was, according to most arsonologists, caused by superbly created Christmas displays, this was of course before electric light. All decorations were artisan-crafted candles of precise design. This also explains the popular "cross burning" tradition in some states at the time; it was all elaborate Christmas decoration. The fires ended in Chicago with Tesla's AC electric lights, as I mentioned in the earlier blog. Personally, I'm the type who likes to line his entire lawn with lights of all sorts. Why stop at the standard LED or, for the more archaic, incandescent electric lights? I like to rig a big 20 gigawatt red spotlight on my roof and flash it at drivers across town, as a way of saying "Happy Christ Birthing!". Your everyday fool may ask the question, "What do awkward meshes of brightly colored lights have to do with the birth of a savior?". This imbecile is clearly forgetting the messy, bright, pulsating afterbirth that was brought from Mary's loins shortly after the birth of Jesus. That celestial neon placenta sprouted wings, flew into the sky, and beaconed Batman to bring a utility belt to the newborn Christ. This would eventually lead Jesus to the carpentry trade and a steady life of promiscuity.
The Worst Light Source: The Sun.
Actor, Mickey Rourke portraying "The Sun" pictured above
Recently the Sun rose above communist China. Shortly thereafter, the sun would rise above Canada. IS MORE THAN ONE PARTNER THAT HEALTHY, THE "SUN"? On a nice October day in 2008, the Sun proposed it's plan to brighten my day. As soon as I began enjoying it's warmth, it began GOING DOWN TO CHINA. What the Sun doesn't want you to know is that it is the NUMBER ONE SOURCE OF SKIN CANCER. Who's keeping tabs on this "Sun" guy?
MORE THAN ONE PARTNER.
GOING DOWN ON CHINA
SOURCE OF SKIN CANCER
Is the Sun really the kind of guy you want hanging around your kids on the beach?
Vote Christmas Lights.
The Best Jigsaw Puzzle:
1501 Pieces (Including the Elderly Man)
The Worst Jigsaw Puzzle:
1 Piece, 13 if you count FLEAS.
The Best Instruction Manual: The manual for the Bodum French Press. Mike gave me this item for Christmas and at first I was wary. It could have been another instance of trickery that has become synonymous with Noonan (see "Best Religion") or even a high-powered multinational marketing firm's attempt to hack into my beverages. I was quickly proved wrong. After trying the French Press today, it does indeed work well and performs accurately to the instructions' outlines. The manual is about the size of a regular piece of paper and yet it manages to have usage instructions in 14 different languages. Not only that, the manual writer seems to have grasped a satirical "antithetical-to-real-life" type of humor in his writing. Favorite quotes include "Do not plunge with force" (something we've all been known to do), "Do not allow children to use this coffee maker" (Ha! Then who's going to make the coffee? Adults are busy people; that's why they're old!) and of course "Turn lid to close off the pour spout opening (does not apply to Brazil models)". Another French Press zinger! Little known fact- all Brazil supermodels practically run on coffee in order to complete their strenuous modeling schedules; it doesn't "apply to Brazil models" because they have no use for closing the pour spout opening as they are perpetually pouring cups of coffee for themselves. This is because, unlike in New York, Milan, and other fashion hotspots, cocaine is illegal in Brazil.
Not Actually a prop of Noonan Trickery, but a useful gift.
The Worst Instruction Manual: Akin to the "For Dummies" series:"How to Lose Friends & Alienate People". As I briefly attempted to navigate through this guidebook, three different people at different times came up to me and asked if I was enjoying what I was reading. I don't remember my answer (all three consecutive times), but one of those people, originally a nun, is now the mother of my child. Another, an elderly yacht collector from Winnipeg, has become a lifelong "brother" through blood pact, and the last person, a middle aged Neapolitan Mastiff, was the only one alienated by me.
The Best Philosopher: Slavoj Zizek. I believe this video accurately displays his key theories:
The Worst Philosopher: Alain Badiou. I just don't care for his arguments pertaining to ontology. The last time I checked, math and philosophy are supposed to be kept seperate. You can't have a bunch of mathematicians coming to epiphanies about the nature of man. They're too busy finding the natural end to pi! I get sweaty with impassioned anger just thinking about it. If ever you see me sitting neutral but sweating profusely, it is either because I am thinking on ontology and mathematics, or I have just eaten Buffalo Bill Wings covered in their signature 9-1-1 hot sauce. Either way, I am not to be physically prodded at this point for reasons that include mass amounts of bile.
The Best New Lego Piece: The Pink AK47
In 2006, I filmed a video documentary labeled "How Lego Ruins Lives". Naturally, Lego reacted with a heavy PR campaign showing how fun and non-ruinous Lego can be for youngsters by marketing plenty of child-friendly playsets reflecting current Hollywood movies such as Indiana Jones, Star Wars, and Spiderman. In order to dissuade the public from finding out about a "ruining lives" aspect, they recalled past lego set series that reflected less palatabable movies, such as Lego Deliverance, Lego Elephant Man, and the controversial Lego Maria Full Of Grace (though it is rumored that some Lego heroine mules were released as part of a special collector's set, only available through online order). What they did not know was that when many of the said youngsters saw their toys emulating the sensationalist aspects of hollywood blockbusters, they of course attempted the same impossible feats as Spiderman, Indiana Jones, and Chewbacca. Needless to say, there was a massive wookie influx, and many lives were needlessly lost and/or ruined. After three years of heavy data collection and marketing tests, it was revealed that most parents had had enough with Lego and it's teachings of violent magicks and volatile mutations. Children and Lego-loving adults alike were living fantasy lives in which "pain" did not exist. This naiveté would be humanity's ultimate downfall and Lego knew it. So they set out to create pieces that reflected the real world. They wanted a piece that was realistic, rousing the public eye to the violent world in which we live, while describing the uniformity by which most of us contextualize our existence through engendered color codes. Thus, the pink machine gun piece. And is it ever CUUUTE!!!
The Worst New Lego Piece: The Yellow Pear Shaped wheel.
Very rarely do you find someone in the multi-leveled conference rooms of Lego HQ who is not of high intellect nor a master architect from outerspace. Of course, in order to introduce contrast and perspective to their meetings, the head executive of Lego, Adolf Goldstein, hired several blue-collar workers as consultants: A butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker. The butcher and the candlestick maker held their own, for a time. The baker did not fare so well. Once, while in the oddly bathtub shaped Lego conference room, he remarked, "What's the one thing with wheels that doesn't also have a 'treads' version! Oh I know, the penny farthing bicycle! That would be the perfect all-terrain vehicle choice, people! It's not dated at all and think of the sex appeal!" Quite a mouthful of exclamation marks for one contributor. For this overstated bravado, the dimwitted baker was subsequently fired from Lego's Mars headquarters and now works at a Megabloks factory in Ontario. As a thought expirement, Lego went ahead and made his terribly ineffective piece anyway. It ruined many lives, as many young boys began modding their non-tread penny farthing bicycles in order to run over parents and other enemies.
The Best Blog: Jason and His Thoughts. Profound and passionate interpretations of everyday life, seen through the eyes of a man with two robotic arms. It will make you look at your own mundane daily activities under a different light; that includes licking stamps, making ice cubes, and biting peers. Side effects include the unyielding urge to lick stamps.
The Worst Blog: Jason's Concert Reviews. Remember those "heavy metal" concerts I mentioned above? It seems like our bionically limbed friend has been listening to a little too much of Manowar's Anthology, and was easily swayed by suggestions from the neighborhood leather gangs. For this reason, I sent the Kubrick Klubz to "talk" some sense into him and show him the face of REAL music.
The Face Of Real Music; aquatic mutant backing band not pictured.
The Best Pope: Pope Joe Pesci. If ever there was a better pope, then I must not have been fully conscious at the time. Pope Pesci (or as he's slyly coined himself "Benedict"), has been on the forefront of banning all magicks that don't serve the interest of the Screen Actor's Guild. This includes the Harry Potter movies/books which all required British actors; there was no room for a brooklyn Italian accent anywhere! Preposterous. When asked if he was just kidding around or "trying to be funny", Pope Joe immediately went into his classic "You think I'm funny?" monologue from Goodfellas. It was met, as usual, by cold applause.
Above: Pope Pesci pictured here while acting in a remake of The Searchers.
Worst Pope: Ray Liotta
Pope Ray's reaction to the abortion topic.
The Best New Medication: The Festival of New Trumpet Music; rumored to cure ailments such as the common cold, constipation, the less common cold, heartbreak, boredom, measles, pink eye, pink hair, trumpet phobia, overly exposed film stock, meningitis, the ol' rheumatic fever, and death. All of these have affected someone you know. The Festival of New Trumpet Music: Think about it. Side effects include bloating, shrinking, and then further bloating.
The Worst New Medication: Ray Liotta.
Side effects include: Mild mouthache, a loss of chairs, abundance of orphans in nasal cavity, dreams of maniacal and inexplicable laughter, goosebumps, feather growth, trick knee, bum ticker, belly-aches, warts on your thumbs, bad brains, blue balls, pins and/or needles, unexpected friendships, boxed ears, meaningless life lessons, goiters in the size and shape of Don Rickles (with a similar wheezing laugh), an urge to run after pheasants and the growth of complex beards. No one is sure that Ray Liotta helps to actually cure anything, though according to Dutch farmers, he's an exceptional actor.
The Best Dessert: Bacon Flavored Dental Floss
The Worst Dessert: Miniatures of VW beetles crafted entirely out of wheatgrass and tofutti, the vegan response to chocolate easter bunnies.
The Best Piece of News: Stephen Harper is a big fruit.
The Worst Piece of News: Trained Tigers Set Loose on Unexpecting Floridians
One of those news items is the cause of the economic recession. The other is a simple campaign spot. Can you guess which is which? I'll give you a hint in riddle form: In Floridian Fields oranges grow, vine by vine, row by row, but what could be more sinister than a strawberry hue prime-minister? Figured it out yet?
The Best Explosion: You've seen movies by influential directors like Michael Bay, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Ken Annakin*. Well, my friends, watch as every movie explosion you've ever seen is put to shame. These two highly trained pyrotechnichians have no competition whatsoever for the best explosion of 2008. Thank God they got it in on time! Enjoy the video, and don't try this at home. These men know what they are doing, and you shouldn't attempt the same thing at your own house.
*Have you not seen the Battle of the Bulge? Come now, what kind of culture-less underbelly is this society transforming into?
The Worst Explosion: The big ill-fitting suit/no socks with shoes fashion boom. I refuse to hop on the undersized birch-bark missing bandwagon with this one. Am I supposed to only use one piece of bread on my sandwich to make some sort of weird "open-faced" sandwich hybrid? No, that's a ludicrous idea. Everyone knows a true gentleman should aspire to appear as economically understated as possible. Hobo-like, if you will. Thom Browne, you can take your eight year old boys' suits back to your legally questionable bedroom to listen to anti-hobo Rihanna songs alone. I won't be part of your cause.
A True Gentleman ...OR IS IT!?
The Best Explanation: Recently sitting on the chesterfield, with my pipe and the Sunday African Revue, I was flabbergasted to discover that cattle rustling is now illegal in Africa. As an experienced and playful rustler myself, I demanded an explanation. I found one:
"From a law enforcement perspective cattle rustling quite often involves a process of planning on a scale comparable to a military operation. Press reports indicate that usually cattle rustlers move in large numbers and the effect of their operations has far reaching and often devastating consequences on a scale much larger than what is occasioned by ordinary crime. It is not uncommon to find that in the process a number of other offences are committed such as arson, rape, defilement, abduction and theft, to mention but a few." - Courtesy of ISS Africa. I put down my pipe, sat in thought for an hour or two, and decided that this was a fantastic explanation.
The Worst Explanation: Power Rangers: Jungle Fury Episode 7 "Pizza Slice of Life". I'm going to assume that you're familiar with the most culturally relevant program on television, and dispense with character summaries and backgrounds. What I'm concerned with is the lesson Casey, the Red Ranger, learned in this episode. By letting the rest of the team do whatever they want in the pizzaria when the master is away, Casey reveals a previously unknown freedom to the rest of the rangers working at the pizzaria. He soon learns that this freedom is a problem, as it leads to unorganization; no one gets any pizza made properly. Casey finds the explanation to why everything's going wrong: lack of leadership. By the end he imposes his will through hard leadership to unite the rangers and breed subverted dissent. This is THE WORST explanation to why the Rangers were acting up. I ask the question: What's so wrong with free will, Power Rangers? Since when must a dictatorial force be obligatory in the ruling of a small nation? The real explanation is this: they're all hormonal teenagers; they don't need "leadership", what they really need is iPods. Problem solved. This was one of the episodes ghostwritten by non-union backstabbing writers during the writer's strike, so it's no surprise that it's parable is Stalin-esque.
Hmmm... that's a convenient color.
The Best Birth: The birth of Listerine. Not to be confused with mouthwash of the same name, Listerine is a fictional country that I wrote into existence thanks to the wonderful advent of NationStates 2. Kind of like a Facebook, but for fictional countries. Here is just a small excerpt from Listerine's history:
"Being an irrational folk, the Haemish began chanting along to the theme of Night Court as Sh’oun held the bottle of Listerine up for the natives to behold in awe.
Later that night, Sh’oun was sacrificed as ritual to the new god, an idol (the listerine bottle) known only as T’Quali. Of course, this was the Haemish’s excuse. The real reason was that Sh’oun simply had a long last name that was far too many syllables for the rest of the community to remember.
At the site of Sh’oun’s ashes, the Haemish began guarding the bottle of Listerine from other passerby nomadic populations. Eventually, as more outposts were erected in order to protect the bottle, the Haemish began colonizing and inducting agriculture into their way of life. Aqueducts were established by outsourcing water from a small crack in the side of Citizen Xiang’s pool. "
As you can see, I have far too much time on my hands for this shit, so I indulge myself to an irrational and mentally sadistic degree.
The Worst Birth: The birth of realtime gene monitoring. I think it goes without saying that this type of ethically unsound science is not acceptable in the religiously oppressed nation of Listerine. I think we can all take a page from the music of London underground punk band, X RAY SPEX:
"INTRODUCING WORKER CLONE
AS OUR SUBORDINATED SLAVE
HIS EXPERTISE PROFICIENCY
WILL SURELY DIG OUR GRAVE" You see, the ethical implications are vibrantly clear after reading through this one stanza of platitudes. Hopefully you were reading in an "angry" tone of voice (out loud), as this is not meant to be sung in the anti-hobo style of Rihanna.
X RAY SPEX's provocatively styled lead singer, Poly Styrene.
I thought it was dumb too.
The Best Death: The death Jeff Foxworthy's and Drew Carey's careers at the hands of gameshow contestants. Two comedians forced to bite down hard on the leathery strap that is show biz! It's a new kind of gag! They should have known. Without openly decrying to the public that their current occupations are quite possibly the lamest job ops that either has sunk to, they will never be able to show their faces to awaiting audiences in their once so cozy comedy clubs (or high profile trailer parks in Foxworthy's case) ever again! I know it's a low blow! I don't care; I'm not one to sympathize with suicide cases.
Jeff Foxworthy attempts to entertain Fifth Graders with another ballgag joke.
The Worst Death: George Carlin. I'm still hanging on to the idea that it's his most legendary and sickest joke yet.
The Best Wax Figure: A Really Big Pink Crayon
It is unconfirmed whether the girl pictured is waxen or not. Pay no attention to her, you should be focused on that giant crayon. Keep looking at the crayon. Now I bet you're wondering what happened to your watch!
The Worst Wax Figure: Amy Winehouse
As this has more character than the original, it fails as a wax figure.
As a highly advanced clone, it succeeds in spades and we should all be terrified of the implications.
The Best Shoes: The Amphibious Toe Shoe
The Worst Shoes: Imposters
The Best Thing to Put In Your Mouth: The Dill Pickle or "God's Candy" as it's called in the Netherlands.
Most Definitely The WORST Thing to Put in Your Mouth: Ray Liotta.
The Best New Idiom: "I like this rug of yours!". I have gotten so much mileage and joke potential out of that line this year, I'm rolling in thousand dollar bills. Hopefully, you've had the same fortune. If not, you need to grasp the English language in a more direct manner. I recommend reading the instruction manual to the Bodum French Press. If anything, the manual would provide a small floormat, or rug. And may I say, I like this rug of yours! See? To those who have read this far, I hope you've been taking notes in bulletpoint format.
The Worst New Idiom: "Mad as a Wet Hen". While not technically a new idiom, this one had a bit of a rebirth this year. Normally, I'm the kind of guy where if the shoe fits, wear it, but in this case I felt like we were in between a rock and a hard place in terms of idiomatic configuration. You would think I would bury the hatchet and embrace wet hens, but that is not the conduct of character that carried me through Idiom school. I openly call out to wet hens, wherever you are, come out of your henhouses and face me. Enough of sitting on your poultry rug (and may I say, I like this rug of yours!) and stand up. We'll see who gets truly mad when wet. I propose we change the idiom to "Mad as a wet Bollywood Actress".
She is PISSED!
The Best New Jewish Fad: The new outdoor sport for major risk takers of all ages: X-TREME BRISS!!! Tired of your typical briss where you know exactly what's going to happen with some formally trained Mohel? WELL TIME TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE CHALLA, 'cause this eighth day of your newborn's life is going to be X TREME. They've taken away the temple and replaced it with the highest peak of the mountains in PAKISTAN! No more of this Mohel business, your baby will be circumsized by a BLIND HOBO NAMED CHESSACKER! Scalpel? Screw the scalpel, he's using a 4 foot BROADSWORD!! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it RIHANNA!
The Worst New Jewish Fad: The more gender neutral X-Treme Latke Cooking with Rabbi Jerod.
Well, that's it folks. I've used up my funny. I now must retreat back to burrowing my sleeping hole in the mud. For those of you who have read up til' this point, congratulations, for you now get to give your own categorization for two topics: MAN OF THE YEAR and WOMAN OF THE YEAR. Tell me who your respective choices are in the comments. These entries will be placed in a raffle and whoever gets chosen will get to marry his/her choice for woman of the year. This can and will be done. Have a good 2009 everyone.
TOTAL STAR JUDGMENT:
4 imposters: cats dressed as kitties.