|THE BLACK LIST: SMACK IT, FLIP IT, RUB IT DOWN ... OH NO!|
|By The Black Table|
It is a time for renewal. What is it about spring that makes us want to dump everything that's not working in our lives, just flush it out of our systems, and just start completely over? Unhappy with your relationship? End it! Displeased with job? Quit! Wish you were more well-endowed physically? Just chop it off! Spring gives us a chance to hit the reset button.
So we're frantically hitting it like crazy. Because we want to be outdoors, frolicking, smiling, rolling down hills into a garden of what we think are flowers but turn out to be poisonous weeds. We want to listen to Judas Priest and be reckless and throw ourselves into garbage cans neck first. We want to do all those things. But first we have to finish this Excel spreadsheet.
The Black List has 10 reviews this week, and we would love even more. Use the box on the right to be a member of our gang, choo-choo-cha-choo.
WEEKLY WORLD NEWS: Sure, we all remember reading in the super market line when we were eight about "Bat Boy" and "8 Reasons Elvis Is Still Alive," and some us even looked through trying to find out what Nostradamus predicted for the new year, but how many of us really took it seriously? Two of us? Come on! No one did. So why doesn't anyone read it anymore? While these 20-somethings are busy getting their biting social commentary from the Onion and the Daily Show, they're missing something that is so much more poignant, funny and ironic than 15 of their favorite blogs. The Weekly World News! It says it right in the tagline: The World's Most Extreme Newspaper. The reason it's so good is because there's probably a staff of 150 sitting around the Weekly World News offices thinking "hmm . . . George Bush is a Mexican!" and then spend 20 minutes Photoshopping a sombrero on a stock picture and then call it a day. Meanwhile it registers in some subtle racist undertone in 2 percent of Americans who have no education, and bang! They've sold 25,000 copies that week. Next week they run a cover of the revelation that Jesus hated French Toast and start all over again. They can make any claims they want because all they have to do is cite one lunatic that promises the story is true, and they've covered their journalistic bases. Does any of this sound familiar? Not even a little bit. Think about it for a few minutes. Okay, I'll give you a hint. Have you ever read Us Weekly? What about the New York Post? Here's the subtlest yet dead-on media and social commentary and yet no one takes it seriously. If the Onion is a parody of the New York Times, then the Weekly World News is the parody of all those sensationalistic news
outlets like Fox News and celebrity rags. It's satire, and the Weekly World News editors are geniuses for going so far over everyone's heads that we just didn't get it. A- (one demerit for asserting that Bigfoot was a Communist, everyone knows he's a Libertarian) -- Greg Rutter
MARRYING THE MURDERESS: You and I were close friends. You were my best man. I moved away, and you apparently moved backwards. Now you're engaged, and she seemed nice enough. But your fiancée took your dog to the pound and had him put to sleep. Why? Because he ate the garbage? Ran around the neighborhood? Barked too much? Well, you used to eat total crap, run around all the time and make too much noise too. No one tried to have you put down. You used to be conscientious. You used to value decency. You used to be the kind of guy I would ask to be in my wedding. Now you're just a sellout to an evil murderess. (Also, why the hell did she insist that your wedding take place 500 miles from where you and your families live?) Letting some chick redefine you for the worse. D. Asking her to marry you. D. Agreeing to let your dog be put to sleep. F -- Seth Wharton
FINDING OUT YOUR FORMER BOSS WAS ARRESTED FOR SOLICITING A 15-YEAR-OLD: After my careful record-keeping indicated he still owed me $1000 upon laying me off, I can't say I felt too bad when he was struck by lightning later that summer. Evidently, karma is a bigger bitch than I thought because a few weeks ago, my former boss was arrested for soliciting sex with a 15-year-old girl on the Internet. Of course, he's a Republican. With four daughters, the youngest of whom is 13. You hear that, current bosses? You keep those woefully miniscule checks coming! A -- Tristan
HEIDI KLUM'S YOGURT DESSERT CREMES: Heidi's Klum's Yogurt Dessert Cremes are a relatively new product that allegedly originates from a small-town candy store in Heidi's native Germany. The chewy bonbons come in five flavors; unfortunately, my gag reflex kicked in before I was able to try two of them, but three was more than enough. The candy dissolved into chalky crumbs when I bit into it and filled my mouth with the taste of chemically treated curdled milk. I was then assaulted with an aftertaste reminiscent of the acidic cotton-mouth one might get after going on a three-day bender that starts with piña coladas and ends with the dregs of all the mysterious, years-old bottles in the back of one's liquor cabinet. But without any of the blissful oblivion one would have had on the bender. If, out of all of the candy in Germany, Heidi chooses this as her favorite, I no longer have to wonder how she maintains her perfect figure. F -- Jessica Liese
APRIL BLIZZARDS: Sure, snow in the springtime kinda sucks. You would think two feet in the springtime -- like we got here in Denver -- would suck even more. But with e-mails coming in all over from family asking "Is everything OK? I heard it was a blizzard!," and suddenly finding an excuse to not go in to work on Monday, Colorado spring blizzards are something to be appreciated. Besides, here in Colorado, it's usually gone the next day (the day after the blizzard, it was nearly fifty degrees, melting everything in sight). Not being outside in the spring because it's too cold: D. Spending what should be a working afternoon in a bar, watching the snow melt faster than it fell: A -- Andy Helm
POPE BENEDICTIONS ON MY SUPER'S LOBBY WHITE BOARD: Fabian, I like you. You're a very appealing man. I like your friendly smile, your sweet wife, your eternally well-pressed khaki shorts, your disturbingly beautiful blue eyes. I sympathize when you complain about the landlord, the graffiti, the drunk Nolita spill-overs throwing up on your nice clean sidewalk. I chuckle when I see you waxing and rewaxing your strangely anachronistic Harley-Davidson. It doesn't bother me when it takes a month for you to come fix my radiator -- I know how hard you work. I even like your egregious misspellings and incomprehensible syntax on the lobby white board. I appreciate your thoughtfulness in alerting us, loyal tenants, to the difference between the black garbage can and the green. And I know the Pope's death must have hit you, as a Little Italy Catholic, very hard. But Fabian, it's been what, two weeks? Am I really going to have to be reminded every time I walk through my building lobby that "his soul will rest in heaven on the bosom of Jesus just like he on earth our Father John Paul"? Is it really necessary that I "bless him with our daily prayers those for whom the Lord saves?" Does that, like, include me? Being too afraid of appearing insensitive to comment on the oppressive religious presence in my building lobby: C. Using the building white board as a platform for evangelism: F -- Shonni E.
OLDER CO-WORKER DISCOVERS REAL PLAYER: She wears a skirt with a side slit exposing venous legs partly covered by black sheer knee highs. She sighs and grunts at any task resembling work. She is seemingly unskilled and incompetent. Yet, she has figured out audio on the computer, God bless her. Well, she's figured out enough to stream what seems to be a Beatles Best-Of for one week straight. Penny fucking lane every 1.5 hours. F -- LS
HAVING A MULTI-MONTH DOWNWARD SPIRAL REVERSED BY A SANDWICH: You know, sometimes life hands you a big bag of shit. You're flunking out of college, your father wants to cut you off, you're behind on the rent for your shithole apartment, you had to hock your guitar to keep the lights on, you start drinking heavily, you and your girl have been fighting, you don't know what you're going to do with your life . . . I could continue, but I'm not going to. Let's just say that during the past few days I've looked longingly at every telephone pole I pass in the car and wondered what would happen if I just swerve a little to the right. It's been bad. Then, today, as I drive by the Burger King down the street from the university, that tune that Hootie sang about the chicken sandwich started playing in my head. Some $6.11 later, I had me a Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch. I don't know what Burger King put in the watercooler to come up with that bizarre-ass commercial, but they're right. As I bit into it, it was as though my entire body relaxed. Thank you, Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch. You're better than Vicodin. (And slightly healthier.) A -- John E.
BAD LUCK WITH BIKES: I was having a hard time getting rid of my dad's 20-year-old yellow bike that weighed what seemed like 300 pounds; none of my friends would even take it for free. So, I left it in front of my apartment building for a week unlocked. No one took it. Then a light bulb went off in my head. What do people do when they want to get rid of something that no one in their right mind would pay for? They sell it on ebay, of course! So, I locked it up and posted it. Someone would buy it, and someone did. I get home from work the day my bike sells, excited to clean it up and put air in the tires for the buyer. Alas: The chain was cut, and the bike was gone. Saying goodbye to my $13.50 and hello to my bad luck: F -- Olivia
BIKINI BUCKS: Here in Baton Rouge, La., I get to deal with a certain
sluggish mentality on a daily basis. Most of what happens here is too
boring to mention, but I now find myself finding a question of ethics.
Maybe someone can help me out. A local group, Bikini
Bucks is selling a video of local home-town hotties crawling through
the woods and blasting the balls off large male deer. I was initially
disgusted with the idea. What kind of person beats off to pictures of
women killing animals? Then I saw the bottom of the Bikini Bucks homepage.
There is a tiny, almost invisible disclaimer stating that a tranquilizer
gun was used on the deer. The rest of the Web site and the TV commercial
make every effort to indicate that the deer in the video are, in fact,
killed and mounted (pun intended). This is the cause of my ethical dilemma.
Should I applaud these people for robbing sickos, or should I detest them
for encouraging the sickos? Since the women involved are all bringing
down 10-and 12-point bucks, I also wonder how many of these deer are addicted
to the sedatives. Please advise. C -- Edgar
Each and every week, Black Table readers like you write the Black List and get absolutely nothing in return. Ain't that some shit.