Seven Things Too Irritating to be Believed

I think I've been good enough for long enough. Anyone who knows me at all knows where my inspiration comes from: love, peace and baskets of puppies? No? It comes from things that piss me off. So if you’re ready to share my annoyance, read on, because some things are just too irritating to be believed.

1) I’m cooking store brand ravioli because I’m too cheap to get Chef Boyardee. I carefully move them from the frying pan to the plate. One slips off my fork and falls. Laws of physics you say? Laws of physics, my ass! I watched the ravioli follow a convoluted course, first it detaches itself from my perfectly centered fork, it avoids the frying pan directly beneath it, zips around the plate directly in front of it and pushes itself beyond the counter to land on the only shoes I own that could be easily stained by store brand ravioli sauce. The flying Wallendas could do no better.

2) Nascar on the radio:

A sport that is the definition of tedium where the only possible interest is in watching a crash is now, reduced to just the sound. “Oh my gosh, this is unexpected, for the four hundredth and ninety third consecutive time today, the cars turn left! Somebody get me a Goody’s Powder.”

3) Why hasn’t there been a public lynching of the poopheads who change the time slot for our favorite programs?

Can anyone tell me when Prairie Home Companion rebroadcast is on? I’m still trying to figure out why they ever cancelled Hill Street Blues.

4) I’ve asked and nobody’s ever told me why they have those useless piercing tones the phone company uses to introduce a canned message:

BEEEEEEEEEP! The number you have called is no longer in service. Either you used an old phone book or you are a complete moron. Check the number, or stay on the line with our high pitched, over-modulated tones and then you can buy one of our very expensive printout phones for the deaf.

5) Why do some people race to pull out in front of you in traffic and then hit their brakes? Why? I sure don’t like having pissed off people driving where they can give me spinal injury.

Are they brake inspectors or do they work for a body shop?

6) When I’m too lazy to change the station, I sometimes here TV Preachers and hucksters scream at me, “Listen, now this is important!”

Face it buddy, I’ve heard your preaching, and it ain’t important. Is he trying to say that the previous half hour of bloviating wasn’t important? Well, at least we can agree on that.

7) Those iddy-biddy flying bugs that you can hardly see:

Why do they want to die in my coffee? Why do they want to fly in my mouth, my eyes, my nose? What beast in its right mind would want to fly up my nose? I hate mosquitoes, but at least they have the decency to be visible. I breathe these things in and I swear I can feel them biting my uvula.

I bet you have things you can add. Feel free to send them to me. Then a few months from now, you can add to your peeves – Hack bloggers that steal my list of things too irritating to be believed.

Can you guess what this dog finds too irritating to believe?

Art of Terry Gilliam by Walter Bego

Walter Bego has asked to use this blog to play tribute to his favorite artist.

He was the only American-born member of Monty Python, and perhaps the most accomplished director of the cast as well, but Terry Gilliam has always been the artist - the man who took us away from the familiar faces of the players and gave us something completely different.

The era leading into Python was a time of Pop, influenced by the Beatles, and by LSD.

It seemed like all the rules were broken already.  How is an artist supposed to deal with that?  Gilliam found ways of breaking rules we didn't know we had - like art was supposed to either be animated or still.  Gilliam refused to follow.

The largely stationary head with one moving part - frequently the jaw, eye or teeth, became something we identify with him to this day.

Gilliam brought the absurd to the spiritual - a favorite theme of Monty Python.

He also held a mirror to the absurdity of modesty.

It was well that he was taken in by Monty Python - American broadcast television in the 60s and early 70s never would have tolerated him.

A little girl harvesting hands from a grave-site would not have meshed well with Mayberry RFD.
But Gilliam didn't shock for the sake of shock.  In Holy Grail, Arthur and his knights run in fear of a great monster.  Gilliam might have created something truly fearsome.

Instead he gave us something so absurd, that the chase scene had no element of terror.

It wasn't because he lacked the talent to do otherwise.
Gilliam gave us great landscapes.

And streetscapes.

And interior scenes where the characters are dwarfed by their surroundings.

And, of course, he gave us countless images of the human foot.

And the reconstituted human body.

Why is he relegated to the title of comedian, while Warhol and others are called artist?  I don't know.  But I think he understands.

I am grateful to share in this suffering.

Now in his words.

Sport Bozos

Adam Carolla (never heard of him, but I know the car,) was quoted in the March 16 Sports Illustrated (page 34,) “why do we have Joe Buck and Troy Aikman?” His point was that stand-up comedians (apparently including the ones I haven’t heard of that are named after Japanese compacts,) should take over sports broadcasting.

“When I watch sports with Jimmy (Kimmel – who I’ve heard of,) it’s nonstop joking.”

I have two words for Mr. Carolla –

 Dennis Miller.

The short-term Monday Night Football pundit’s desperate hit and miss and miss and miss one liners left me wishing that Dan Dierdorf would return to his seat in the booth – preferably on top of the crumpled and silenced former funnyman. What sounds good on stage before a drunken audience, or in a living room with beer-sodden friends doesn’t always sound as good while sitting in front of a TV camera.

Do you think Bubba and Clevis would rather hear how many cheese steaks Vince Wolfork can eat, or whether Demarko Murray’s last second reach made a first down?

Do they want to hear arcane 70’s references to hi-rise basketball shoes with gold fish in the heel, or if the Bulls have the possession arrow with two minutes to go in regulation?

Do they want to know what Linsay Lohan would make of a bunt signal, or what Russell Martin’s caught stealing percentage is with runners on the corners?

Miller proved that sports broadcasting is not the venue for stand-ups. That’s not to say it’s a comedy-free venue. In sports, comedy comes from…

clowns

Though clowns are in bad taste almost everywhere (circuses included, horror movies excepted,) there’s a forty-five year tradition of broadcast clowns (both intentional and non) in sports.

Do you think Roone Arlidge gave Dandy Don and Howard those bright yellow jackets because they were serious journalists?

Ed Wynn (or somebody that once shook his hand,) once complained that in Vaudeville you could do the same act across the country for years before you needed a new one, but you do an act once on television and everybody’s seen it. That’s true for stand-up commentators, once you've spouted off Belichick joke number 37, it goes into your dirty laundry bin, but sports clowns can hack out the same old material game after game.

How many times have the pregame folks kidded Bradshaw about all his marriages?

Think of Madden’s constant use of the word, “boom!”

Dick Vitale is such a predictable caricature that even when he’s not on the air doing his shtick – other sportscasters imitate it.

There are lovable clowns like Bob Uecker, annoying clowns like Boomer Esiason, deadpan clowns like Kenny Maine, and guys that should just give up trying to be a clown like Tim McCarver.

Actually, I’d like sports a lot better if they’d all stop trying to be clowns.

But that’s the state of sports broadcasting, Adam Carolla (of whom I've never heard.) So if you want to break in, buy yourself a red nose.

The real tournament begins in a couple hours. I've studied the field for numerous seconds, and I've found no reason to budge from my pick the last two tournaments: The State University of New York, Albany. Go Great Danes!

Though I worry what might happen if they meet the Northeastern Huskies in the final.

What a dog-fight that would be!

Okay - this is an ad - but it's still a great concept by an EVIL corporate biggie.

The Money Mountain

Mary was a hard working farmer in the land of Monet. She raised carrots, and turnips, and lettuce, and squash. She had apple trees, and peach trees, and cherry trees too. In the same small town were Larry the carpenter, Shari the mechanic, Perry the artist, Kari the seamstress, Jerry the mechanic, and George the printer.

It was a friendly town, but they had one problem. Mary needed Larry to fix her barn, but Larry didn’t need carrots, or turnips, or lettuce, or squash. He didn’t need apples, or peaches, or cherries either. Larry needed his truck fixed and Mary didn’t know how to do that.

It got confusing giving apples to Perry, who painted a picture for Kari, who made shirts for Jerry, who fixed a truck for Larry, so that Larry would fix Mary’s barn.

That’s when Bonnie banker moved to town.

“You see,” said Bonnie, “all these problems will go away if you just use money.”

“Money?”

“That’s right,” said Bonnie Banker. “With money, you can pay for goods and services instead of trying to trade.”

“Where do we get this money.”

“I will provide it,” said Bonnie Banker.

So all agreed. It was easier to trade money than goods and services, and George the printer was especially happy, because Bonnie Banker paid him to print the money, even though she paid him with some of the money he just printed.

Now Mary, and Larry, and Jerry, and Kari, and Perry, and George had to work just a little bit harder because Bonnie the Banker didn’t produce a useful good or service. She just provided money.

That was all right; money solved problems.

But they still had problems. They disagreed about how much money each good or service should be worth.

That’s when Donny the Judge moved to town.

“You see,” said Donny, “all these problems will go away if you just have a civil court.”

“A civil court?”

“That’s right,” said Donny Judge, “with a civil court, a unbiased person will decide a fair settlement for each dispute.”

“Where do we get this civil court?”

“I will provide it,” said Donny Judge.

So all agreed. They let Donny Judge decide things, instead of wasting time arguing about how much money each good or service was worth. George the printer was happy because Donny Judge hired him to print lots of impressing sounding legal pronouncements.

Now Mary, and Larry, and Jerry, and Kari, and Perry, and George had to work a little bit harder because Bonnie the Banker and Donny the Judge didn’t produce useful goods or services. They just produced money and judgement.

That was all right; money and judgement solved problems.

But there were still problems. People had no idea what Donny Judge would decide before they went to civil court.

That’s when Ronny Politician moved to town.

“What you need,” said Ronny, “is a set of laws.”

“Set of laws?”

“That’s right,” said Ronny Politician, “with a set of laws you will know in advance how Donny Judge will decide his cases, because his guidelines will be written down on paper.”

“Where will we get this set of laws?”

“I will provide it,” said Ronny Politician.

Now, not everyone was sure they needed this set of laws, or another unproductive person in their community, but Ronny Politician produced his set of laws anyway, and George the printer was paid more money that he had printed in his shop, so he could print a set of laws.

Now Mary, and Larry, and Jerry, and Kari, and Perry, and George had to work harder because Bonnie the Banker, Donny Judge, and Ronny Politician didn’t produce useful goods and services. They just produced money, judgement and laws.

That was all right; money, judgement, and laws solved problems.

Didn’t they?

Then Connie the Lawyer moved into town. She didn’t ask permission, she just moved in, and if anyone wanted Donny Judge to give him or her justice, they had to pay money to Connie Lawyer.

So Mary, and Larry, and Jerry, and Kari, and Perry, and George were working very hard because of Bonnie, Donny, Ronny and Connie…

Tawny moved into town. No one really knew what she did, but she demanded that George print more money, so that she could move that money around. A lot of the money ended up with Ronny Politician.

“What is it Tawny does?” Mary Farmer asked George the Printer.

“I’m not sure what she does,” said George, “but she calls herself a lobbyist.” George couldn’t answer any more questions, because he was very busy printing laws, and legal pronouncements, and bank statements, and petitions, and money – lots and lots of money. Money was pouring out of the back of George’s print shop, and getting swept up by Bonnie, Donny, Ronny, Connie, and Tawny.

It was just as well that George couldn’t answer, because Mary had to get to work. She saw Perry on the way outside George’s print shop. He looked sad.

“What’s wrong, Perry?”

“George won’t print my pictures and poems and stories and photos.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have enough money to pay him to do it,” said Perry, “and besides, George is too busy printing money.”

That’s when Mary noticed that even though there was lots of money getting printed, she didn’t have very much of it. Neither did Perry, Kari, Larry, or Jerry.

Mary almost didn’t notice when Lonny the investment broker moved into town. The reason Mary almost didn’t notice was because he only spent time with people with money. The people with money were Bonnie, Ronny, Connie, Donny, and Tawny.

Ronny, Connie, Bonnie, Donny, Tawny, and Lonny hired Larry to build them big homes that they stuffed with money, but they didn’t give him very much for his work.

Ronny, Connie, Bonnie, Donny, Tawny, and Lonny hired Jerry to fix their big cars that cost lots of money, but they didn’t give Jerry very much for his work.

Ronny, Connie, Bonnie, Donny, Tawny, and Lonny hired Perry to fill their homes with art. They sold the art back and forth to each other for lots of money, but they never paid Perry very much for his work.

Ronny, Connie, Bonnie, Donny, Tawny, and Lonny hired Kari to make them wonderful clothes.  They called the clothes, high fashion, and valued them for lots of money, but they never paid Keri much for her work.

Ronny, Connie, Bonnie, Donny, Tawny, and Lonny bought lots of food from Mary. They bought far more than they could ever eat, and called it gourmet, which meant it was worth lots of money. But they never paid Mary very much for it.

“How did this happen to us?” asked Jerry.

“They don’t produce anything,” said Keri.

“They don’t help us,” said Perry.

“But they couldn’t live without us,” said Larry.

“I don’t understand it either,” said Mary, “but I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either!” said Jerry, and Keri, and Perry, and Larry, all at once.

“It’s all because we needed something to exchange for goods and services,” said Mary. “If we went to George and had him print a different money – money that we control, then they would all go away.”

“YES!” said Jerry, Keri, Perry, and Larry.

And so, together, they went to George’s print shop, but it wasn’t like they remembered it. There were hundreds of people swarming all around it. They were clerks, accountants, tax preparers, and collectors. There were comptrollers, and auditors, underwriters, and risk analysts. There were investigators and regulators, financial advisors, and retirement specialists. They were all so busy doing things that looked important, but as far as Mary, Jerry, Keri, Perry, and Larry could see, they were things that didn’t help anyone.

They moved money; they inspected money; they counted money; the argued about money. They shouted, laughed, cried, and drooled over money. The town was buried under a great mountain of money spewing from George’s print shop, and no matter how much money poured out, all these busy people kept shouting, “print more money!”

Mary, Jerry, Keri, Perry and Larry went into the print shop. There was George, drenched in sweat, feverishly printing money as fast as he could.

“George!” shouted Mary. “You need to stop! You’ll have a heart attack if you keep working so hard.”

“I know,” said George, “but they want more money. I have to print more money.”

“More money!” shouted the people outside. It sounded like there were twice as many people as there were when Mary, Jerry, Keri, Perry and Larry first came in.

“But George,” said Mary. “These people aren’t helping anyone. They don’t make food, or fix cars. They don’t make clothes, or build houses. They don’t create art, or even print. If you stop printing money, they will all go away, and leave us in peace.”

“But then what will we do?” asked George as he shoveled great piles of money out his back door. “We’ll be back to trading like we were before.”

“More money!” shouted the people outside. The shout was so loud that the rafters shook in George’s print shop.

“No we won’t,” said Mary. “We can print our own money, a very small amount of money, just for us – just for people that do useful things.”

“More money!” shouted the people outside and the floors trembled in George’s print shop.

George stopped printing. He looked at Mary, Keri, Perry, Larry, and Jerry. “You’re my friends,” said George. “What you say is a good idea.”

“Yes!” said Mary, Keri, Jerry, Larry, and Perry.

“But I can’t do it,” said George.

“Why not?”

And George pointed to a very small pile of money. It was so small that it was hard to see in his print shop full of money. It was a really tiny pile of money, but it was different than all the other money in the print shop, because on this tiny pile of money, was a little label that read, ‘George’s money.’

“You see,” said George. “If I do what you say…

My money will be worthless.”



Here's a documentary.  Okay, it's not funny, but it's on subject.