DON'T STOP…

"Ah ah ah… watch it, Ron."

SHUT UP, OLD PHOTO OF FORMER JOURNEY LEAD SINGER, STEVE PERRY! 

Sorry, kinda angry at that dude because legally I'm not allowed to use the word Believin' in conjunction with those other two words in the header. Basically it's all a mess to do with Perry's being pissed about the ongoing lawsuit in which I claim that he stole the song from me after hearing me sing it on open mike night at a little dive bar in San Francisco back in 1979. So what if I was only 11 years-old at the time? So what if I had never been to San Francisco and wouldn't have been old enough to sing in a bar anyway? So what if my story is complete bullshit? Who the fuck are you, Gloria Allred? 

Fuck! 

But we're here today to talk about beliefs. (Ha ha! Can't stop me from using THAT word! Suck it, Perry!) If you were one of the very few people to happen by here and catch my ramblings last week then you recall me going on and on about Anne Frank — Yes, we're talking about HER again. But only for a moment so bear with me.

Talking about the tragedy of that young girl's life — and the subsequent tragedy of Justin Bieber setting foot in her museum — put in mind a quote that appears toward the end of her diary which reads in part… "It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.” Shortly after that entry the diary comes to an abrupt end as she and her family and most of the people who sheltered them were captured and Anne died of typhus in Auschwitz sometime in February, 1945.

Well… that certainly was depressing. Still, all this leads me to consider the things that I believe. Contrary to our young Miss Frank, inherent human goodness ain't anywhere on my list. And when the subject of my beliefs comes up it always reminds me of a wonderful scene from the 80s hit Bull Durham starring Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon (Whom I would still cut off a finger to sleep with. Not MY finger of course but still…) Classic scene where Sarandon (as ball slut Annie Savoy) asks Costner (as ball player Crash Davis) what he believes in. In answer to the question, Costner pontificates for two minutes about believing in everything from vaginas to the Kennedy assassination. (And I believe that the former definitely had something to do with the latter.) After speaking his piece, he abruptly exits and leaves Sarandon to deal with a situation that can best be delicately described as… juicy panties. 

Yeah you WISH that was all rainwater
down there, Susan! 

Now I'm not saying that exposure to my beliefs are going to leave you all dripping down under. In truth, 99% of those who are exposed will most likely suffer no end of horrible side effects the likes of which can only end in madness, death or Dutch citizenship. I mean, I just went from Anne Frank's death to Susan Sarandon's moist crotch in one paragraph. So yeah, my opinions are not good for your health, mental or otherwise but arousal will not be one of your 99 problems. However, for that rare 1% that do find themselves even the slightest bit damp after picking up what I'm about to put down… well I'm sorry but you disgust me and after a brief and altogether frightening sexual affair, I can never associate with you again. Trust me, it'll be for the best.

So now that you've all signed the proper release forms I guess we can get started. What's that? Didn't sign any forms? Well Allred's already on her way here so she can take care of any legal mumbo-jumbo should the need arise. Until she gets here though, we'll just have to proceed with caution and good faith as we wade hip deep into the murky waters of…

WHAT I BELIEVE!

I believe in BOOBS! That one probably could've gone without saying. And apparently it went without a picture. WTF?

I believe that any woman who's ever claimed some decadent food item to be "… better than sex" is either a really shitty lay or she's never been fucked correctly… because she's a really shitty lay. And for the record, no man has ever made such a claim.

She's really enjoying that eclair. And no, you don't wanna know how she took it in.

I believe that natural childbirth must stink like an alien autopsy. I know, it's a beautiful miracle and there's this tremendous outpouring of emotions and all. But you know what else is pouring out of that miracle? A secret blend of eleven different bodily secretions that when sniffed out of context would remind one of a Carnival Cruise ship returning to port. It's a wonder that delivery rooms are able to keep paint on the walls.

I believe that bacon is the truest sign of God's love for us. Better luck next life, Muslims, Jews and Vegans.

I believe that every time 'Real Housewife' Nene Leakes and comedian Steve Harvey speak, they're each guilty of committing a verbal hate crime. And on occasion when the two of them speak to one another, the English language blows a rape whistle that never gets a response. 

Translation: ???????????????????????? [SYSTEM FAIL]

I believe that the commercial where those two nerds create a crude robot to feed them Cheetos is total bullshit because any nerds with such talents would undoubtedly use those skills to build a sex-bot. Said nerds would later wind up in the ER with a wildly fabricated story explaining exactly how one broke his dick, why the other has fire retardant foam up his ass and why there's a concerned Dyson with a face sitting in the waiting room.

I believe in… TAWM FAHKIN' BRADY! 

(B-Strong, Boston!) 

I believe that Usher fucking sucks! He sucks as an entertainer and since he's the one that discovered Justin Bieber — yeah, HIM again — then he sucks for that as well. So fuck him twice! And fuck The Voice as well for giving him a weekly forum for sucking. 

You ain't half the judge Cee Lo Green was…
literally and figuratively! 

I believe that if I ever got my fat ass involved in a three-way with Melissa McCarthy and Rebel Wilson, the gravitational forces unleashed by our slapping masses would rip the moon from its orbit and in turn unleash worldwide tectonic hell. Still, I'm gonna make that dream happen so you should all get your emergency plans and go-bags ready. 

And if I can persuade Adele to join us then none will survive the fatocalypse.
Sorry in advance, Life-As-We-Know-It. 

I believe that tanning salons are a wholly racist enterprise started by people who wanted to neither hire nor serve black people.

I believe that Betty Draper needs to be written out of Mad Men already! For God's sake, bitch wasn't interesting when she was married to all-American hero Don Draper, and being his "better half" was the only reason to give a shit about her. Now that they've been divorced for two seasons do we really need to be reminded she exists? I don't care that she's gotten remarried, gained 100 pounds, had a cancer scare and yet through it all she's still useless. Kill her off in a bizarre hair dryer accident and bring the kids to live with daddy. That way we can possibly get into some drama about daughter Sally running away to turn tricks on the streets of NYC because she hates Daddy's new wife, Megan. And perhaps little brother Bobby meanwhile feels just the opposite and regularly raids his stepmom's hamper for dirty pretty things to help him through puberty. You know, good old-fashioned, wholesome story telling. 

Actually, Bobby might be on to something. Where's she keep that hamper again? 

I believe that toward the end of his second term, President Barrack Obama will loosen up and drop a record nine uses of the word 'motherfucker' into his final State of the Union Address. I also believe that the FCC won't be able to do shit about it. Because he's the motherfucking POTUS, that's why, motherfuckers! 

I believe… THERE! ARE! FOUR! LIGHTS! 

(Where my Trekkies at?)

I believe that when Law & Order creator Dick Wolf was in high school he must have hated sitting through attendence. 

"All right everyone, stop laughing. I'm looking for Wolf, Dick.
Is there a Wolf, Dick here?" 

I believe that the Kentucky Derby would be more interesting if the National Thoroughbred Racing Association took a cue from NASCAR and changed it to the Kentucky 500. Bunch of horses thundering around a 2.5 mile track for 200 laps before stumbling to the finish line and exploding in a bloody pulp. Now that's what I'd call the sport of kings.

I believe that a perfect spinoff for The Walking Dead would be The Walking Wounded. A gripping drama about a group of folks trying to survive in a world where a cure for the zombie plague has been found, but now all the former undead just shamble around bitching about their missing limbs and lack of healthcare. 

I smell a hit! Or is that rotting flesh? Yup, definitely rotting flesh.

I believe that HAN SHOT FIRST! 

(Star Wars nerds in the house!)

And lastly, I believe that things such as the magic of a child's laughter, the majesty of a sunset and the simple pleasure of a porch swing don't matter anymore just like everything else on this list since Earth was obliterated last week! All of this is just my mind killing time while my flash-frozen body is in transit to the planet Proxima 8 where me and what's left of the human race will serve our new alien overlords. Well some of us will actually serve the overlords and some of us will BE served to them.

So that's it I guess, you're all dead to me now and I'm on my way to either a lifetime of intergalactic servitude or a brisk dry-rub followed by seventeen hours of slow roasting until I'm fall-off-the-bone delicious.

I believe I'll go great with a nice Pinot.

DIARY OF A WWII KID:

Okay, so Anne Frank's not the most cheerful way to begin a post, but here goes. 

Kind of a late night ritual around the Savage household, 11:00 pm rolls around and the TV gets flipped over to the E! Network to catch Chelsea Lately. Not one of my prouder admissions, also not my fault since it's not by choice on my end. (MARRIAGE IS ALL ABOUT COMPROMISE!) Still, only have to suffer through the first fifteen minutes because the wife only likes the panel portion of the show, not enough of a fan to deal with the interview segment. If you've never seen Handler's interview skills in action… fucking keep it that way, you lucky bastard! But here's a quick rundown of the way the show's second half usually goes: 

HANDLER: "My guest tonight is a blah blah blah…please welcome ( insert celebrity name here )."

Guest enters, they hug, they kiss, they sit.

HANDLER: "Thanks for coming."

GUEST: "Oh thanks for having me."

HANDLER: "You look great."

GUEST: "Thanks, so do you."

HANDLER: "Oh stop it. So… let's talk about me. Me. Me. Me. I drink a lot. More me. More me. Me some more. I like it when black men ransack my vagina. Speaking of me… Me again. Hold up a sec while I throw it over to the Mexican midget I keep on a charm bracelet for laughs. By the way, did I mention me?"

"So T.I., you're saying your name doesn't stand for Twelve Inches? Well that's disappointing." 

You can totally see how her twenty person writing staff is earning their keep. So last night was no different and even seemed to be a welcome change from all the Boston Marathon coverage. That shit was just… whatever… fucking people can't even run safely anymore. We're ready to go anytime you are, Black Jesus! 

Anyway, first topic up on last night's panel was the Justin Bieber/Anne Frank flack. Seems those two kids have gone and found themselves involved in a Twitter war and… No wait, Olivia Wilde got into the Twitter beef with Bieber. What was Anne Frank's deal again? Oh yeah, WWII, Nazis and all that. Had that brief cameo in the third Indiana Jones movie.

"The grail has to be there, son. Anne drew the map in glitter
and marked the location with a smiley face." 

While recently visiting Amsterdam, Bieber stopped by the Anne Frank House and wrote the following in the guest book: "Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a Belieber." For those who don't know, (like me until a couple hours ago) Beliebers are Justin's diehard fans. And you'd be hard pressed to find a more rabid bunch of crazies anywhere other than a midnight showing of the Twilight films. Actually, they probably share the same fan base. 

Nothing that a strong father figure and a blanket party couldn't fix.

Handler weighed in on the issue with her panel and eventually got into a very loud disagreement with panelist Michael Yo on one particular bone of contention; whether or not Anne Frank listened to the radio up in the attic where she and her family were hiding from the Nazis. Yo's opinion was that Anne DID listen to the radio and he referenced her famously published diary as source material for this belief.

Handler however, was of a mind that Anne Frank DID NOT listen to the radio because she would not have been able to make a sound during that time. Apparently Handler thinks that the Franks lived in the crawlspace above Hitler's personal residence and had to be silent 24/7. And to back up her argument she stated that she knew she was right because she's a Jew and that a Black/Asian like Yo shouldn't try to argue Jew stuff with her. 

Wrong Black/Asian dude, Google! Whatever,
I'm sure they all look alike anyway. 

Now while it's true that Handler is a Jew, (I guess) she's also an idiot for using the race card in that way to back up her argument, especially when you consider this quote from Anne's diary entry of June 15, 1943.

"It is really true that as the news from the outside gets worse, so the radio with its miraculous voice helps us to keep up our morale and to say again, 'Chins up, stick it out, better times will come!'"

No mention of whether or not she would've liked Bieber though and of course no reason there would be unless her radio could pick up signals through time. (And that would be pretty sweet.) But that's no longer here nor there since we've clearly gone off the rails on this one. In my humble opinion though, I would have to say yes, she would have been a Belieber since she was a fucking 14 year-old girl and that's his whole fucking fan base. Also, she was hiding from Nazis in a fucking attic! She would've loved Bieber or any other ridiculous thing that offered a momentary escape from that hell. The unedited version of her diary probably contains pages of ink devoted to the sheer thrill of new smells. 

She really wrote this. Swear to God… zilla.

Although to be fair, I suppose that Handler might very well have been joking during the whole bit. Gotta admit, I'm not sure, kinda hard to tell because I wasn't paying close attention. Most of the time when her mouth is moving, I'm just thinking about what she looks like naked… same as when I watch The View. 

I like to start with Elisabeth Hasselbeck and then slowly work
my eyes left over to… BLLLLAAARRRGGGHHHHHHH! 

So I guess I kinda might owe Chelsea an apology for calling her an idiot before. Unless she wasn't joking and really thinks being a Jew automatically validated her argument. Then she actually is an idiot. Then again, she's the one with the TV show, millions of fans, Twitter followers and fat bank, while I'm alone in a basement, broke and pretending anyone cares what I think. So really, who's the idiot? 

"It's okay Ron, you're black so just climb in my vagina and all is forgiven." 

Oh if only it were that easy, Sugar. I'd make you go back.

FREE BLADE!

Wesley Snipes was released Tuesday from federal prison after serving his three years for tax evasion. So congratulations Mr. Snipes. Get on out there, breathe the air, walk in the sunshine, enjoy that freedom and then get your ass to work on White Men Can't Dance Either. It's what the public wants.

I was gonna caption the photo to say something about how hard it must have been for him on the inside, but that picture was taken BEFORE he went in so… damn. He must look like a gargoyle by now. Posting a pic of him today might just turn us all to stone.