World News for the Narcissistic American

People are leaving Venice, and nobody knows why.

I used to live out near Venice--before I moved back east into West Hollywood--so I am uniquely equipped to offer a theory:

Homeless people. They smell, and they make me feel bad for owning a dope-ass flat screen.

If the people of Venice kick enough homeless people out in time, they--in turn--will not be forced to relocate...thus retaining their homes (and, resultantly, their balls-to-the-wall home entertainment systems outputting at HD-1080p).

In which case...you're welcome, America.

'Pessimism vs. Optimism': A Play in One Act

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

METROVILLE, a smart guy.
MRS. METROVILLE, his wife.
MALE FRIEND, Female Friend's fiancé.
FEMALE FRIEND, vice versa.
THE CAT, Metroville's strikingly handsome cat.


SCENE 1

A patio area at a (vaguely douchetastic) sports bar in Los Angeles. Amongst the CROWD are METROVILLE, MRS. METROVILLE, MALE FRIEND and FEMALE FRIEND. On television is NBC's broadcast of a USC-Notre Dame football game at halftime: "Saturday Night Live's" SETH MYERS is performing a live mini-version of 'Weekend Update'.

METROVILLE: Wow...NBC really has nothing. Is it possible for a major broadcast network to fold entirely?

MRS. METROVILLE: Why are you so cynical?

On TV, Seth Myers partakes in a gag referencing the "balloon boy" story.

MALE FRIEND: Did you see that kid puke on two different TV shows? What was up with that?

METROVILLE: What's up with that is that the kid's dad is a psycho attention-addict and the whole thing was staged. Kid's got crazy-parent vertigo and probably some sternum bruising.

MALE FRIEND: Heard that.

FEMALE FRIEND (to Male Friend): Why are you saying that now? Is that your new thing?

MRS. METROVILLE (to Metroville): No, you were asleep while the whole "balloon boy" thing was happening, so you don't know. We were glued to the TV at work, freaking out. When the balloon landed and he turned out not to be in it...god, I could cry right now just thinking about it...it was unbelievable.

METROVILLE: No shit it was unbelievable--whole thing was horse poop from jump street.

FEMALE FRIEND: I don't know. The dad seemed pretty genuine in that first press conference.

METROVILLE: This is a dude who was on "Wife Swap" twice.

MALE FRIEND: He was on "Wipeout"?

METROVILLE: No... What?

MRS. METROVILLE: I also heard "Wipeout".

FEMALE FRIEND (to Metroville): I think you're thinking of "SuperNanny".

METROVILLE: I'm thinking of "Wife Swap", 'cause that's what I said.

MRS. METROVILLE: You mumble.

METROVILLE: You know what kind of people choose to appear on reality shows? Psycho scumbags. And the fact that this dude--the "balloon boy" dad--forced his family to participate in that garbage on two separate occasions renders it mathematically near-impossible that he'd find himself in the national spotlight--by accident--a third time. Dude set the whole thing up, I guarantee it.

MRS. METROVILLE: You're wrong.

METROVILLE: I'm right. Bet me.

MRS. METROVILLE: I'm not going to bet you. I feel bad for you that you walk around with this dark view of the world.

FEMALE FRIEND: You guys are cute.

MALE FRIEND: Kid puked twice just on the "Today Show"... Fuckin' nuts.


SCENE 2

METROVILLE is in his office at home, browsing on his computer. He comes across an article (on MSNBC.com)...and gets very excited.

He rises from his chair and skips jauntily from his office, to the living room, and finally to the bedroom...where MRS. METROVILLE is struggling to reclaim possession of a sweater from THE CAT.

MRS. METROVILLE: I hate this fucking cat.

METROVILLE: But he's so handsome.

MRS. METROVILLE: Still hate him.

METROVILLE: I love it when you talk negative.

MRS. METROVILLE: I never talk negative. I just want my goddamn sweater.

METROVILLE: Embrace it, baby: When all cards are on the table, pessimism--

Mrs. Metroville wins the fight, freeing her sweater from the cat.

METROVILLE: ...pulls us through.

MRS. METROVILLE: Save it. I beat your douchebag cat with positive thinking.

METROVILLE: Good intentions triumph over evil, love conquers all...that kind of thing?

MRS. METROVILLE: Exactly.

METROVILLE: Remember that "balloon boy" thing we were arguing about earlier today?

MRS. METROVILLE: Yeah...

METROVILLE: Guess what?

MRS. METROVILLE: What.

METROVILLE: "Charges to be filed."

MRS. METROVILLE: You're kidding!

METROVILLE: I am not! How you like that?!

MRS. METROVILLE: I don't like it at all. I think it's super-fucking sad. Guy's got a wife and three kids... This could tear the whole family apart.

METROVILLE: Yeah, okay, but... How about a high-five for me being right?

MRS. METROVILLE: No, thank you. I'm taking a bath.

Mrs. Metroville passes by Metroville (without high-fiving him) and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Metroville looks at the cat.

METROVILLE: You got me, though, right?

Metroville picks up the cat and sort of makes it high-five him, getting scratched in the process.

METROVILLE: Ah, what the hell.


EPILOGUE

Later that night, METROVILLE is heading from the kitchen to his office. THE CAT approaches, rubbing against his legs.

METROVILLE: No dice, chief. We're still fighting.

Metroville's mobile phone buzzes in his pocket. He produces the phone, reading a text message...and frowns.

METROVILLE (calling OFF STAGE to Mrs. Metroville): Yankees won in the thirteenth! You gotta be fucking kidding me. I'm certainly not sad that the Angels lost, but the fuckin' Yankees? Major playoff in my favorite sport...

MRS. METROVILLE (from OFF STAGE): What about the National League?

METROVILLE: I'm talking about real baseball, not the pseudo-Canadian version with a guaranteed failed bunt in every lineup.

MRS. METROVILLE (from OFF STAGE): You're funny.

METROVILLE: I appreciate that but please do not distract me from my rant. Major playoff in my favorite sport and I want both teams to lose and neither to win. How am I supposed to enjoy that?

MRS. METROVILLE (from OFF STAGE): Maybe pessimism doesn't always pull us through, smart guy.

METROVILLE: Heard that.

Metroville goes back to work.

(THE END)

Quick! Name Your Favorite DJ AM Song.

Unless you count the late Adam Goldstein's involvement with Crazy Town--which you didn't remember/know about until you read it just now--in which case you maybe recall the title of that one song they were known for--and even then, you can't, because to consider "Butterfly" DJ AM's song is to attribute "Push It" primarily to Spinderella--you can't.

But, as long as you're a proper narcissist, that hasn't stopped you from Tweeting your sadness about DJ AM's death, has it? Because he was on "Entourage" once and that makes him important...or at least certainly more so than the four people who didn't miraculously survive that plane crash last September and therefore had no chance to celebrate their new lease on life by fatally OD'ing less than twelve months later.

Those people never dated Nicole Richie and therefore do not warrant a second thought from the likes of John Mayer or any former cast member of "That '70s Show".*


*[Ed. note: I'll allow that Danny Masterson may have (along with Travis Barker and Goldstein's family members) actually known DJ AM as a human being and is therefore genuinely impacted by his death; Demi Moore's trucker-hat rack, on the other hand, gets no such pass.]

Panty-Sniffer Hopes to Kidnap, Drug and Eat Your Children on Christmas

Pictured above is Jedd Medefind of the Christian Alliance for Orphans; I know this because of the superimposed title.

But that's not all I think I know.

To wit:

(1) The two 'D's in Jedd's Medefind's first name refer to the "double-D" bra cup size. This means that Jedd Medefind is a pervert obsessed with feminine undergarments.

(2) The first syllable of Jedd Medefind's last name is "med", which is short for "medicine". This means that Jedd Medefind is a drug addict as well as a drug dealer.

(3) The last syllable of Jedd Medefind's last name is "find". This means that Jedd Medefind wants to find things to give drugs to and then have sex with.

(4) The name of the Christian Alliance for Orphans includes the word "orphans", which refers to children. This means that the things that Jedd Medefind wants to find, give drugs to and then have sex with are children--your children, probably...since that's also a thing I just thought of.

(5) The name of the Christian Alliance for Orphans includes the word "Christian", which refers to Christmas. This means that Jedd Medefind wants to find, give drugs to and have sex with your children on Christmas, which is Santa Claus' birthday.

(6) Jedd Medefind's mouth is open in the above picture. This means that Jedd Medefind wants to eat your children on top of everything else.

Unless you love rape, the illegal drug trade, kidnapping, child molestation and/or cannibalism, and you hate Santa Claus, you will join me in boycotting Jedd Medefind and the Christian Alliance for Orphans.

While it may be true that I made absolutely no effort to understand anything about Jedd Medefind or the Christian Alliance for Orphans beyond their names, I assure you that that does not mean that I am behaving like a fear-mongering, narcissistic twit...

Or at least not any more so than Jedd Medefind and the Christian Alliance for Orphans (and this lady and these pinheads) are behaving in reaction to a movie called "Orphan".

Glenn Beck Fatally Confuses Two Prepositions

When Stephen Colbert and the rest of the cognizant world mock Fox News' lunatic-of-the-moment Glenn Beck, most everyone understands that they are laughing at Beck, not with him. Most everyone but Glenn Beck, that is, for he has announced a comedy tour.

That's right, "comedy". As in, a deliberate attempt to be funny, live, in front of people. America has called Beck hysterically insane, and all he heard was "hysterical".

Unless you think that genuine mental illness is funny, I recommend staying the hell out of Denver, Phoenix, San Diego, Kansas City, Houston and Richmond, Virgina during the first week of June.

A Case Against Blogging

Do you have a blog? If so, great--your career's going places.

Also if so, are you self-involved? Of course you are; you have a blog.

Even further if so, do you use Google Analytics (or a similar program) to monitor your blog's traffic?

If not, maybe you shouldn't. It's a window into bad things. Bad things like the knowledge that 2 of the whopping 18 visitors (hold your applause) to this site on Saturday accessed it by looking up the phrases "iranianporn child" and "metroville fucking pictures", respectively:

(For the record, there is no child pornography--Iranian or otherwise--to be found on Metroville, but there is this. As for "metroville fucking pictures", your nightmare is as horrible as mine--probably less so, actually.)

I want my blankie, I want my mom, and I want to get the hell off the internet.

(But I won't, because it's there.)