|THE BLACK LIST: THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND, TRAVEL 'ROUND...|
|By The Black Table|
this Thanksgiving week, it's important to give thanks.
For one, we don't live in Bangkok:
BANGKOK (Reuters) - A Thai house painter cut off the penises of two teenagers with a knife after he found out they had stolen 50,000 baht ($1,250) of his savings from an ATM machine, police said on Saturday. Manit Srithammathan, 40, told police the teenagers, now in hospital, deserved the punishment as they had betrayed his kindness in letting them stay at his Bangkok suburban house, they said. "There's nothing they deserved more for stealing the money I saved that could have helped me get a job abroad," a police spokesman quoted him as saying. The painter, facing charges of life-threatening assaults and unlawful confinement, said he could not control his rage as the boys, aged 14 and 15, refused to confess to the theft which he discovered after checking a video record kept by the bank. Manit threw the severed penises into a canal before his neighbors tipped police off about the incident.
Honestly, that's all we can really come up with to be thankful for. However, we are looking forward to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade, particularly the Ron Artest float, which, even if you don't punch a hole in it, it still deflates and starts whipping around all over the place. It also produces rap records.
Anyway, we have 11 turkey reviews this week, filled with all the appropriate stuffings. While you're loosening your belt on Thursday night -- whether you've eaten a lot or not -- definitely come by The Black Table and use the form on the right to tell us how it all went. Oh, and we're taking the rest of the week off, because we're lazy, so enjoy this -- it's all yer gonna get!
Gobble, gobble, goo.
TURKEY PARDONS: My favorite part of the usually insufferable holiday season is the annual pardoning of the White House Thanksgiving Turkey. The hokey tradition began in 1947, when they realized that a perfectly good turkey could be wasted for a photo-op, since the war was over and everyone now owned an oven and could cook their own damn turkey for Thanksgiving. Since it was an election year, President Bush thought it would be fun to have pairs of turkeys campaign against each other. "Biscuits" and "Gravy" are now going to live out their lives on the Frying Pan Park petting zoo in suburban Virginia. Personally, I'd rather die. But alas, turkeys, with
their small brains don't seem to mind. They are, after all, turkeys. Yet in this time of fractured feelings and partisanship, I think the turkey pardon is a reminder. While approximately 58 million of us will be rightly embittered for the next four years, the really important things are right in front of us. Ring the family, baste a turkey and chow down with those near and dear until the tryptophan washes over you. A -- Jill Sheehy
DETROIT: The security problems caused by large populations of unemployed, fanatical young men have been well documented in Iran, Iraq, Palestine, and Egypt. The lack of economic opportunity in these places in conjunction with poor living conditions and political instability creates a volatile mix that drives these young men toward violent demonstration and fanaticism. Add Detroit's Palace at Auburn Hills -- the home of the NBA's Pistons -- to this list of places. You've seen all the video, but here's a brief recap anyway. Pacer fouls Piston; Piston shoves Pacer; fan lobs full cup of beer at star Pacer forward and burgeoning hip-hop star Ron Artest, who at the time was reposed on the scorers' table as if posing for Degas. Mr. Artest then charges into the stands after this fan[atic], and an NBA-sized melee ensues. Stadium security and city police couldn't stop the flying bottles, chairs and popcorn buckets, but mostly, they couldn't stop various Pacers, including Jermaine O'Neal and Steven Jackson, from laying some absolutely devastating rights on some drunk twentysomething amateur pugilists who deserved everything they got for being a part of this madness. So my father (an Israeli) loved to tell a joke about how the coach of the Detroit Lions heard about a talented grenade thrower in Gaza and recruited the young terrorist to play quarterback for the Lions. After winning the Super Bowl, the kid calls home to share the news with his mother, who is incensed. "Just today our house was burned down, your sister was murdered and your father has been kidnapped, and you tell me about a game?" "But mama, how is this my fault?" She replies: "You brought us to Detroit." Indeed. F -- Gabe H
THE SOUL-SUCKING WIFE THAT DESTROYS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND: It was so cute last year when you called your fiancé's bachelor party shrieking that you cannot find the unity candle, and he better come over to your parents house to find it. Oh, let's not forget making everybody's life miserable during the days leading up to the wedding with your micromanaging. But what is even better is that this year you selfishly kept your husband, who is the best man, from attending his own brother's bachelor party. Let's not forget that the four days I recently spent at your house turned into a non-stop argument fest; nothing like hearing your best friend sobbing in the back bedroom while you emasculate him in front of his friends. But the best was when you attempted to sabotage his brother's wedding through emotional blackmail and constant complaining. Making a man choose between his wife and his brother on his brother's wedding day ROCKS!!!!! Congrats! I hate your guts! A+ -- DY
FALLING UPWARD: Condoleeza Rice, National Security Advisor, is thankfully, not an ideologue. She's just incompetent. She never understood the idea that her job was to shake the bureaucracy when there was a problem, not just blame the existence of a complacent bureaucracy on history, or something like that. Effective leaders stay in charge because they push people once in a while -- it's kind of the difference between Bill Parcells and everybody else. In the Bizarro World that is the 43rd president's administration, however, she isn't going to be fired. Or reprimanded, even. No, she's being promoted - to Secretary of State. It's great for her, and terrible for the rest of us. F (and that's being generous). -- David Gaffen
KURT IN THE BOX: You don't need the Nirvana box set, "With the Lights Out," to remind you that this band was truly, truly great. Just dig up that first Foo Fighters album and play "Alone + Easy Target," a dittie Dave Grohl wrote in 1991. Nirvana supposedly played it during a few soundchecks, but it was never recorded until Grohl resurrected it in 1995. "Alone + Easy Target" is a good song, but after a listen, you'll imagine that it could have been a great song, had Kurt been the one to pour his guts into it. I sure do miss that band. A -- keith h.
TV IN THE DENTIST'S OFFICE: I'll admit that it had been a while since I last visited the dentist. But was I the only one surprised to see "Days of Our Lives" playing in that same room where they ask you all-too-personal questions while prodding your molars with sharp, tin-tasting tools? Now, if you're a person who can't miss your soaps, by all means multitask and watch while the dentist drills your bonbon-induced cavities. But for my $150, I expect my mouth to command the hygienist's exclusive attention, and not just during commercial breaks. Best of all: On this recent visit, I had to wait for the dentist to come and check my teeth, so the hygienist offers up the remote, and I aimlessly flip through channels until the Doc finally shows. As he begins poking at my mouth, it becomes excruciatingly apparent that I've landed on The Jesus Channel. He and the hygienist exchange uncomfortable smirks, and the poking becomes slightly more violent. "Ahm noht a jeeshush fhweak!," I mumble desperately, through seven metal instruments. Thanks for that, TV. D -- Samantha
WATER-FREE URINALS: I live in an area that was scorched by drought for several years. The lakes turned into mud pits and every summer brought water rationing and fines for excessive use of the stuff. So, the powers-that-be decided to install water-free urinals in my building. Now, please understand: I'm as pro-environment as the next person, so the concept of conserving a natural resource isn't lost on me. Unfortunately, the "odor-free" claim is a blatant lie. The things just don't drain well, so there's often a lingering puddle maturing like a fine wine. Worse, there's always at least one urinal with a nasty stream of yellow fluid leaking from the bottom and meandering its way to the nearest drain. Hmm, I wonder what that could be? Of course, now the drought is long gone and has been replaced by annual flooding, but the water-free urinals remain like fetid fossils of a time forgotten. Trying to save the environment: A. Making me think that installing a huge cat box would be a better idea: D. -- Rick
BEING THE PERSON AT WORK WHO KNOWS A LITTLE TOO MUCH ABOUT DRUGS: You just started a job with a Fortune 500 company, and now you're completely surrounded by 30+-year-olds who have young children and only have conversations about young children. Then, during your sixth week on the job, you happen to leave a spoon on your desk from your morning green tea, and Earnest, the support specialist, comes by and inquires about said spoon. "Is that your spoon?" he asks. "I didn't know you liked heroin." All of a sudden, your eyes light up, as the rest of office starts discussing different types of narcotics and marijuana. Finally you can contribute to a conversation at work! You start to contribute a little too heartily, and then the rest of the office is looking at you, and Earnest says, "Kathie knows a little too much about drugs." Then, silence. You start to sweat because you just know the Fortune 500 secret service is going have you fired and arrested in about 2.5 seconds. Then finally from the corner cubicle, your saving grace, Rob, says, "Y'all don't even want to know what I've shoved up my nose before I met my wife. Y'all are weak!" Thank you Rob, I appreciate it. D -- Kathie Fries
SEEING A FRIEND FROM HIGH SCHOOL COME OUT OF HER SHELL: So, you knew this girl back when the two of your were all of 16, and she was one of those Holy Virgin/True Love Waits/No Drink/No Drugs types. A real drag. You hated her. You went off to college, discovered Vicodin and crawled into a whiskey bottle. You're a real party animal now, man. You hear of a party, and you go. Who should happen to be there, vodka cranberry in hand: Little Miss Perfect. She's absolutely bombed out of her skull, and you think to yourself, "Self, this is a wonderful thing." Dealing with a bunch of adolescent baggage: C-. Seeing a repressed person finally take the stick out of their ass: A. -- John E.
DISENFRANCHISING MOOCHERS: Hey, I work for a living! I don't need a lot of freeloading hippies and open source mush-heads leeching my bandwidth. I sure don't need six-fucking-teen of them. At noon today, I cut them loose with the stroke of a radio button. At first, they'll think it's just a temporary interruption, like the time I crashed the router or when I "inadvertently" cut the wire. They'll muddle along with dial-up for a few days, vainly expecting its return, mild annoyance still outweighed by colossal smugness and entitlement. But who's clever now, you fucking moochers? Enjoy that 56K streaming porn -- just make sure to start buffering a good hour before you plan to jerk off. And maybe prune that iTunes list; you don't want to tie up your land line too long. My only regret is that I can't be there to see each and every one of your faces when you realize the free ride is over. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go yell at the people watching the sunset from my roof. A+ -- J Daniel Janzen
SEXUAL CAMEL REIGN ENDING: It's been about three months since your last boyfriend left for Germany. He was the painter with the soulful eyes and amazing cock that had you wondering if it were possible that Yoko and John's excuse for staying in bed was just that John's cock decreed it so. In the meantime, you've been making do with awkward hand-jobs from semi-acquaintances and a looped version of Tera Patrick Nurse's series. You're about two days away from the crying-and-masturbating cliché, so you start fantasizing about that guy in your office. It's not like you can't get laid -- you are an Asian girl, after all -- but it's working up the effort to like someone enough to get laid seems ridiculously concerted and untimely. Finally, your raging libido takes the reigns and staunchly invites said interest back to your bedroom. What happened can only be described as a crack in the dam. For the next week, you notice a spring in your step and bouncier hair. A -- Ceda Xiong
Each and every week, Black Table readers like you write the Black List and get absolutely nothing in return. Ain't that some shit.