Aaron Sorkin stars in 'In Her Defense, I'm Sure the Moose Had it Coming.'

"Unless you've never worn leather shoes, sat upon a leather chair or eaten meat, save your condemnation."

You're right, Sarah, we'll all just go fuck ourselves now.

The snotty quote was posted by Sarah Palin on (like all the great frontier women who've come before her) her Facebook page to respond to the criticism she knew and hoped would be coming after she hunted, killed and carved up a Caribou during a segment of her truly awful reality show, Sarah Palin's Alaska, broadcast on The-Now-Hilariously-Titled Learning Channel.
I eat meat, chicken and fish, have shoes and furniture made of leather, and PETA is not ever going to put me on the cover of their brochure and for these reasons Palin thinks it's hypocritical of me to find what she did heart-stoppingly disgusting. I don't think it is, and here's why.

Like 95% of the people I know, I don't have a visceral (look it up) problem eating meat or wearing a belt. But like absolutely everybody I know, I don't relish the idea of torturing animals. I don't enjoy the fact that they're dead and I certainly don't want to volunteer to be the one to kill them and if I were picked to be the one to kill them in some kind of Lottery-from-Hell, I wouldn't do a little dance of joy while I was slicing the animal apart.

I'm able to make a distinction between you and me without feeling the least bit hypocritical. I don't watch snuff films and you make them.  
You weren't killing that animal for food or shelter or even fashion, you were killing it for fun. You enjoy killing animals. I can make the distinction between the two of us but I've tried and tried and for the life of me, I can't make a distinction between what you get paid to do and what Michael Vick went to prison for doing.
 I'm able to make the distinction with no pangs of hypocrisy even though I get happy every time one of you faux-macho shitheads accidentally shoots another one of you in the face.

So I don't think I will save my condemnation, you phony pioneer girl. (I'm in film and television, Cruella, and there was an insert close-up of your manicure while you were roughing it in God's country. I know exactly how many feet off camera your hair and make-up trailer was.)

And you didn't just do it for fun and you didn't just do it for money. That was the first moose ever murdered for political gain. You knew there'd be a protest from PETA and you knew that would be an opportunity to hate on some people, you witless bully. What a uniter you'd be — bringing the right together with the far right.

(Let me be the first to say that I abused cocaine and was arrested for it in April 2001. I want to be the first to say it so that when Palin's Army of Arrogant Assholes, bereft of any reasonable rebuttal, write it all over the internet tomorrow they will at best be the second.)  

I eat meat, there are leather chairs in my office, Sarah Palin is deranged and The Learning Channel should be ashamed of itself.

It's December 5th and You Should Be Knee-Deep in Christmas Movies By Now.

I’m sure you know most of these but here are my picks for Christmas movie entertainment….

A Christmas Story

No Christmas would ever be complete without a 24 hr Christmas Story marathon.  I’m pretty sure I don’t need to tell you this.  The movie was made in 1983 which means it’s closing in on 30 years. What I find so fascinating is that every year I do, in fact, tune in at least 3-5 times a day to watch certain scenes.  True story.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

It’s just an all around classic and a must see for me.

Scrooged

What holiday would be complete without a little bit of Bill Murray to make you feel happy?  I particularly like the fact that Buster Poindexter is the Ghost of Christmas past and the dude from Dynasty plays Bill Murray’s old boss.  You got Carol Kane and, hell, even Bill Murray’s brothers are in the film.

It’s a Wonderful Life

Come on.  It’s a given.

Bad Santa

Honestly, I could watch this movie at any time of year.  It really doesn’t matter.  It might be in my top 10 funniest movies of all time.   I know that’s a bold statement, but Billy Bob as an alcoholic, depressed, store robbing Santa is one of the greatest characters ever created.  Plus the little overweight kid with the red hair is easily one of my favorite supporting characters of all time: “It’s a wooden pickle.”

Elf

Will Ferrell at his best.  I watch it every year.

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

 This made for TV movie was absolutely awesome and even in this technological age it still holds up as a classic.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

I bought the soundtrack, I have the tree ornament that plays dialogue, I have the Charlie Brown Christmas tree up in the living room... I love all Peanuts, all the time.
But especially at Christmas.

UPDATE:

I was just alerted by the love of my life that I have forgotten one...

Die Hard

William Campbell Really is Dead?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1683472/

I had a watch of this movie in the hopes of learning all the information concerning the conspiracy clues. I have a sick love for them  I was very disappointed to find that the producers hadn’t really attempted to do their homework first.  At all.  You can get a more accurate version of the conspiracy from a simple Google search. The whole movie was clearly written and produced by people who haven’t got a clue about The Beatles history or time-line.  A great bunch of drama and scary theorizations, but ultimately hokum.

Everything was based on American record releases, ignoring facts that some songs were actually written before the alleged date of the alleged fatal accident. But the real give-away was when fake George, who I shall refer to as Feorge, tells us that Rita the Hitch-hiker who caused Paul to crash his car was given a new identity and a big payout to remain quiet, only to turn up years later as Heather Mills. The reason Heather had lost her leg was because the powers that be, in an attempt to keep her quiet, tried to have her killed by running her over in traffic, apparently by the same powers that be that organised John Lennon’s assassination. But what Feorge fails to mention is that Rita accidentally caused Paul’s death, a good two years before Heather Mills was even born.

Oops.

Towards the end of the film there were some very obviously photo-shopped images of Faul with a very enlarged nose and buck teeth, and some video footage of Harrison being interviewed on Australian television, clearly saying Faul (Fake Paul) instead of Paul. YouTube has the unedited version of this interview and in real life Harrison has a most distinctively pronounced P for every mention of Paul’s name. There... I have just officailly done a better fact-checking job than the God damned director.
Had this been a documentary on the hoax, and one that stuck to the theory as it had stood, this would have been an enjoyable discussion of the conspiracy theories. Marketed as Harrison’s last testament, and very badly narrated by someone who was so obviously reading a script, it’s not even a good hoax in its own right.
 
Of course it is partially true….Paul has been musically dead for decades.

"Do it over, do it right... do it again and again... sometimes you just have to dance naked in the rain..."

A lot of people think that if they could mix and match characteristics and traits from all of their previous relationships, just cherry pick their favorite things about each person that they’ve been with, that they could create the ideal mate. She would have this one’s sense of humor, and that one’s body, and this one’s face, and that one’s career, and this one’s fashion sense, and that one’s parents, and this one’s apartment, and that one’s political views, and on and on until I had the girl of my dreams. But there are two problems with this plan, in addition to the fact that the technology just isn’t there (yet) to make it realistic. First of all, it overlooks the excitement and unpredictability of meeting someone wholly new and learning about them. And second of all, what if it turns out that there’s something you’d really be into that you didn’t even know was an option? Like maybe it turns out you’re really into middle-aged women who spin around in circles with a video camera and recite horrible, awful poetry about dancing naked in the rain?

Prepare to fall in love.

People Still Dig Christmas, Right?

I mean, I know the "sanctity" of it has been diluted, neglected, and washboarded into a marketing nightmare, but still... people make the most of it, yes?

I have never been religious enough to consider it Jesus' birthday, and if I was I would no doubt still realize his birthday was in August.  I do not have childen to keep the illusion alive for.  My family probably finds me the exhausting one; no keeping up appearances for their sake.  It is just for me.  I love it and force those around me to as well, lest they kill me in my sleep.
I just enjoy being able to have a reason to be blissfully indulgent.  Indulgent in food, drink, appreciation, gifts (giving and receiving), friendships, generosity, etc.
It is like spring break but with snow.
And it is a great way to end a year and start another... with new stuff and a reason to go to the gym again.

Anyway, I already have the decorations up, the baking planned, the movies cued, and the parties marked on the calender.  If you need a bit of the cheesy Christmas spirit, you know where to find me.


P.S.  Watch Modern Family if you are not already.

IT'S DECORATIVE GOURD SEASON, MOTHERFUCKERS.

This is for you, Shawn...

I don't know about you, but I can't wait to get my hands on some fucking gourds and arrange them in a horn-shaped basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I'm about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of shellacked vegetables. When my guests come over it's gonna be like, BLAMMO! Check out my shellacked decorative vegetables, assholes. Guess what season it is—fucking fall. There's a nip in the air and my house is full of mutant fucking squash.
I may even throw some multi-colored leaves into the mix, all haphazard like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I'm going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking gourd necklace for myself. People are going to be like, "Aren't those gourds straining your neck?" And I'm just going to thread another gourd onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply, "It's fall, fuckfaces. You're either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you're not."
Carving orange pumpkins sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing an all-gourd reenactment of an episode of Diff'rent Strokes—specifically the one when Arnold and Dudley experience a disturbing brush with sexual molestation. Well, this shit just got real, didn't it? Felonies and gourds have one very important commonality: they're both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that's upsetting, but I'm not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.
The next thing I'm going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I'm going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it's not summer, it's not winter, and it's not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it's fall, fuckers.
Have you ever been in an Italian deli with salamis hanging from their ceiling? Well then you're going to fucking love my house. Just look where you're walking or you'll get KO'd by the gauntlet of misshapen, zucchini-descendant bastards swinging from above. And when you do, you're going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.
For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel shirt, some tattered overalls, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.
Welcome to autumn, fuckheads! 

-Colin Nissan

I just got a case of the Mondays. In my PANTS.