RAISON D'ETRE

Penn State football coach Joe Paterno died of lung cancer early Sunday morning. (No shit Ron, way to get a scoop!) Now I'm not going to eulogize the man or talk about his tarnished legacy, the whole boy-touching scandal thing or any other such stuff. Not gonna talk about what he did or didn't do or should have done, what he knew or when he knew it, I think there's been enough said about all that. And frankly, the subject just turns my stomach so best left alone unless you want me vomiting on my keyboard. Is that it? Is that what you want? Yeah, didn't think so.

But I do want to talk about one aspect of the whole sorry tale that has nothing to do with nastiness and that's just how quickly the end seemed to have come for the man. Now I have no idea what went on with his health as of late, but from my perspective as a fan of college football, the man seemed as fine as he'd been for the last few years right up until the time that he was fired from his position. Forty-six years as college coaching royalty and then it was all just over for him, out on the street like a regular schlub. A week later he looked like hell, understandable considering the shitstorm he was caught out in. Then soon after he was diagnosed with lung cancer, broke his hip, went downhill fast and then shuffled his ass off this mortal coil. (What the hell does that even mean anyway?)

The man was just gone within three short months of his dismissal. And while it's not unusual for a man of his advanced years (He was 85 BTW.) to go so quickly after a diagnosis like that, I can't help but wonder: did getting fired play a factor? The man literally lost everything he had to live for. Without Penn State football what did he have left? His wife, his kids, grandkids, people who loved him? YAWN! JoPa's death could be seen as proof of what I've been saying all along…FOOTBALL IS LIFE! Totally possibly that if not for the scandal that got him kicked out, he might be alive today, out there recruiting young warriors to follow him onto the field of honor to battle for glory, for blood, for victory… FOR SPARTA!

JOE PATERNO: THE EARLY YEARS.

The lesson here is find something to keep you on this Earth for as long as you can. That's what Raison d'Etre means, it's French for 'reason to exist'. And if you try to convince yourself that family is the answer then you're a fool. Already told you, Paterno had that shit and it did him no good. He died anyway while they just stood around and let him instead of hatching some complex hair-brained scheme to convince him he was still a coach. He was 85 for God's sake! How hard would that have been? You get the local high-school team to let him stand on the sidelines and pretend to listen to what he's saying. Give him an empty clipboard and a whistle and the guy thinks he's back in the saddle again. Could've lived another ten or fifteen years like that. So family is all well and good and everything, makes for a nice holiday card, keeps you from looking like a sad-ass loser at restaurants and gets you a couple of tax breaks. Other than that… f@%king useless! As for me, what do I love enough to stick around for? Too late to seek a career in football and apparently, organ harvesting is illegal. So what's out there for me?

Guess I'll just go with my love of boobs. Loving them has kept me around this long and I'll trust that love to keep me going well into my golden years. So ladies, if you care about me, if you love me, if you don't want me to die, then by all means show 'em to me. Hell, even if you don't give a crap about me and just need to make a couple extra bucks in this shitty economy, works for me too. I got spare change.

YEAH, BRUCE WILLIS KNOWS
WHAT I'M TALKIN' ABOUT.

And while I've got you here and we're on the subject of football, (before) just gonna go ahead and mention that the New England Patriots are back in the Super Bowl. And once again it's the hated New York Giants that stand between us and hoisting the Lombardi Trophy. If we win and take revenge for what happened back in 2008, then all will be right with the universe and I'll finally be able to sleep through the night. If they lose… if they don't… I don't even wanna think about that because they're not gonna lose. Right God? We made a deal, remember? Sacrifices were made!

One last thing. Couple months ago on this blog I talked about some television shows that I was digging and one of those fine programs was the NBC cop drama Prime Suspect. Well NBC has since pulled the plug on the show, stopped production on it around the same time I gave it praise. They aired the last two episodes this past Sunday just to fulfill some contractual obligations. Great show but not the world's sexiest cast playing the roles and I think that's why it didn't catch on. I mean, how are they supposed to get noticed over shows like this?

EVERYONE'S SO FIT AND WET AND SHINY.

Not one person in that photo is even Hawaiian. I call bullshit!

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT:

Oh man, another MLK Day come and gone and this year's party was even more out of control than last year. There was food and drink, the music was loud and bumping and the girls were… okay well, the girls were nowhere to be seen, just like last year… and the year before that, place was pretty much a sausage-fest. But we still had fun. And by we I mean I had fun since it was just me alone in my living room with a 26 year-old boom box, a bottle of Peach Snapple iced tea and a bag of Fritos. So the sausage-fest really only had the one link. But it was out of control like I said though, the neighbors complained and everythjing. Mainly because I left the blinds open and they all have young children who shouldn't be exposed to such a pathetic display of loneliness.

But look, I didn't come here to bring you down with my tales of sadness. Came here to talk about something that's on my mind, and with yesterday being the day we celebrated the life and works of Dr. King… honestly that had f@%k all to do with any of it. Now I don't wanna get off on a rant here… bullshit, of course I want to, it's what I live for. That and the thrill of opening the seal on a fresh new soda. Makes that "Pssssshhhht" sound. Oh man, that's livin' right there, I'll tell you what.

A heck of a human being and my
personal grooming inspiration.

I'm here to talk about my man, Wesley Snipes, currently serving a three-year sentence in the McKean Federal Corrections Institution in Pennsylvania for tax evasion. Why Wesley Snipes? Well I caught Jungle Fever the other day… the movie by Spike Lee. I didn't catch the real fever and help some white girl get back at her daddy, that's not what I'm about these days. But in my youth… yeah, still nothing. No rebellious snowflakes for young Ronny. So anyway I watched the flick, watched Mr. Snipes and his co-star Annabella Sciorra navigate their way through the racial minefield that was Bensonhurst, NY circa 1991. Film gets to the end, Halle Berry in her first acting gig stumbles about as a crack whore, offers to wash Wesley's junk in her mouth for $5. (Had Oscar written all over her even then.) Credits roll and I flip channels, land on E! Network and catch some story about Lindsay Lohan and my first thought was: Wow, I wonder how much she's charging for junk wash? But then my next question was: How the hell is she walking around free when Snipes is still in jail?

Now Snipes got hooked for tax fraud or evasion or something that basically means he made millions and Uncle Sam didn't get his cut. Lindsey Lohan got arrested twice for DUI, made multiple court appearances, violated her parole several times and is just a plain awful wreck of a human being. But still, she only saw the inside of a jail for thirteen days. And that wasn't even one stretch. Those thirteen days were all totaled over various stints. Meanwhile, Snipes is looking at three hots and a cot for roughly 1082 days more than Lohan got. That bitch put people in danger… twice! And has yet to stand up and say "Yeah, I did that shit, sorry." Whoever died from tax evasion? M.A.T.E. (Mothers Against Tax Evasion) exists in only one place on Earth, and that's in this f@%king sentence!

And of course Lohan's not the only celeb out there getting off light. Seems like they all do. Keifer Sutherland, Paris Hilton, Mel Gibson, Shia LaBeouf, Heather Locklear, Ty Pennington and Mötley Crüe front man Vince Neil are all celebs who saw little to no time for a crime that could have potentially taken lives. And Vince Neil did take a life back in '84 when he got drunk and wrapped his car around a pole and killed a fellow singer on a beer run. Yeah, drunk as shit and looking to get even drunker. Served just 30 days for that and then got caught again in recent years and served another 15 days. HUH?

And lest you think that I'm saying it's a racial thing going on here, oh no. Charles Barkley, The Office star Craig Robinson, Vivica A. Fox (My girl!), Michelle Rodriguez and Klhoe Kardashian (She's got a lot of black in her… usually.) are all famous folk of color who simply got their wrists slapped after blowing above the legal limit. Of course now I can see how you would have thought I was going for the racial slant since I segregated the list like that. DRAMA!

Anyway, as further evidence that the whole Snipes conviction wasn't a racial thing, (at least in my mind) is the fact that Survivor winner Richard Hatch served three years back in '06 for the exact same crime. Sad thing is that if it were a race thing, I think it'd be easier for me to take. If racism were the issue then it would be understandable that the situation not make any sense. (Did that sentence even make any sense?) But the truth of the matter is that not paying your taxes is considered a more serious crime than getting blitzed, climbing behind the wheel and possibly turning your car into an engine of death.

Now my research (Wikipedia) has shown me that the big difference here might be that tax evasion is a federal crime and drunk driving is prosecuted on the state level. Therefore places like California can make up their own rules to give preferential treatment to celebrities. In that case I should be talking about other federal crimes like dog fighting, which Michael Vick was convicted of back in 2007. He got a 23 month sentence, spent 19 in jail and served the rest of his time at home. How nice. It's bullshit, but still nice.

Because of that glaring bit of injustice, since Uncle Sam apparently cares more about getting his money than he does about animal cruelty, I'm starting the campaign to free Wesley Snipes from the Man's bullshit system!

Although with CGI anything is possible.
So who knows?

That's it, that's the whole campaign right there. I made the graphic, posted it, what more can I do? That thing represents the blood and sweat and tears of seven minutes of my life! More than that I cannot do for Mr. Snipes, there's nothing left for me to give.

Whew… told you I liked ranting. But I'm done now, ready to get down off my soapbox. If someone could just maybe help me down? Kinda high up here and I don't want to fall or nothing. Anybody? Please? Ronny's scared!

TRAPPED IN THE THEATER:

I'm back my friends! Vacation was wonderful, thanks for asking. Of course I got you a souvenir, unfortunately the drug sniffing dogs wouldn't let it through customs. Good thing I'd shoved it in that kid's backpack before going through the gate. He'll be fine, how hard could life in a Malaysian prison be for a seven year-old? They've got finger paints, right?

Well the Oscar season is upon us again and just like last year, I don't give a crap. However, there is a slight difference this time around. This year not only haven't I seen a single one of the films that are reportedly up for consideration, a lot of them I haven't even heard of. The Artist, Midnight in Paris, The Tree of Life, In the Land of Blood and Honey? What the hell? Were any of those even released in theaters? Did they star Americans or is it all just junk from overseas that some eggheads think are meaningful and poignant because they're in black and white and contain metaphors and words at the bottom of the screen that require reading skills and comprehension and an attention span that lasts longer than your average bucket of popcorn? (BTW, $10.00 for a large? Blow me Rave Theaters!) I think Brad Pitt's in one of them, I just don't care enough about him to find out which one.

Me, I'm an old-fashioned son of a bitch, I like my movies with boobies and shit that blows up! Doesn't always have to contain both, one or the other is good enough. Films like Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol (in theaters now) currently kicking ass at the box office. Haven't seen it yet but I look forward to it. No boobies (I'm guessing) but action and explosions and that's what going to the movies should be about.

And I'm not the only one who thinks that way, just look at the list of domestic grosses for 2011, the top ten earners were all action heavy films, the nearest Oscar contender being The Help at number twelve. Nearest one after that is Midnight in Paris at fifty-seven. Guess watching black women clean houses just gets more asses in the seats than watching… whatever the hell Midnight in Paris was about. (Racists!) But to be fair I'll look it up… let's see, says here it's by Woody Allen… and I'm already bored and moving on. A flick about maids must be like straight adrenalin compared to what Allen's been putting out the last twenty years.

But still, nothing beats the real classics, man movies like Die Hard, still one of the most awesome movies ever made, not ashamed to admit that I feel that way. If it's on, I'm watching it. And if I'm watching it, then I'm quoting along with it. Bruce Willis trapped in a building, fighting for survival, keeping America safe from Euro-trash terrorists. A claustrophobic mix of suspense and action, with witty banter thrown in for good measure. Created a whole genre of films. After Die Hard we got movies about dudes trapped in all kinds of shit. Steven Seagal got trapped on a boat in Under Siege and then a train in Under Siege 2: Dark Territory. (And really, a film about a train called Dark Territory, how did the porn industry miss making that parody?) Wesley Snipes got trapped in a plane in Passenger 57. Sylvester Stallone got trapped in a tunnel in Daylight. Keanu Reeves got trapped on a bus in Speed, not really the same, but kinda. And then even the ladies got in on the act when Sandra Bullock dumped Keanu's ass and made like Seagal by getting trapped on a boat for Speed 2: Cruise Control. But she did it without Seagal's Akido skills… or his douchebaggy attitude.

Willis helped Hollywood realize that claustrophobia sells, and it's even gone so far as to give us Ryan Reynolds trapped in a coffin last year in Buried. The ultimate in claustrophobic terror. Never saw it, (because it would give me nightmares for the rest of my life) but I think the whole thing is just him underground in a box. And supposedly it was pretty good. So I guess it's possible to make something interesting without boobs and explosions. Go figure.

But then Hollywood went and took it just a little too far last year with Devil, a film produced by M. Night Shyamalan (should be all you need to hear) about five people trapped in an elevator with Satan. Yeah, I said elevator and Satan. And at the time I really thought that we had reached the limit, didn't think there was anything left to lock people in for two hours. Of course I thought that back in 2002 as well, Colin Farell… Phone Booth… Dear God.

But I was wrong in '02, and apparently I was wrong last year because I just saw the trailer for the upcoming film ATM a flick about three people trapped in an ATM kiosk by a lone menacing figure. So sometime last year, some studio suit got pitched an idea that contained the words 'three people… ATM kiosk… lone menacing figure… trapped'. And the next words out of the suit's mouth were: "Green light, we have a deal!" Reality television really has ruined us, hasn't it? They're not even trying anymore. I can only hope it's a really elaborate hoax or a fan trailer. If either one is the case, then bravo, you got me. If not, then I expect the big screen adaptation of R. Kelly's Trapped in a Closet any day now.

No golden shower jokes… keeping it clean.

BTW, there's a link to the ATM trailer up there in case you missed it. Seriously, check it out because it really defies description.

And please believe me when I tell you that I had a whole different direction in mind when I sat down at the keyboard today. This one went off the rails quickly and I veered off into Crazy Town. And now, a moment of silence for those poor citizens killed in the tragic Crazy Town wreck of 2012.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So I'm as much a traditionalist as the next guy, provided the next guy happens to be your grandfather. I dig archaic forms of entertainment such as bird watching, stamp collecting, yelling at young people from my porch and witch burning (still very big in the Czech Republic). But the whole year in review thing has seen its day. Only been a year, do we really need reminders about the guy who cried "Rapture" and the NFL lockout and the movement to occupy everywhere? Admittedly, those are the only three things I remember from 2011 but that doesn't matter. Don't need a bloody refresher course! Any idiot can sit at a desk doing Google searches for shit that's already happened, repackaging stories we've already read with pictures we've already seen. (PUSSIES!) But sacrificing your Mom's Cocker Spaniel to the dark gods, draining the tiny beast's blood into the skull of a completely different dog and drinking deep of the viscous fluid — which strangely tastes a lot like KFC gravy — to gain knowledge of the future… now that takes a real man with a pair of Kryptonite gonads housed in a lead-lined sack my friends! They're implants by the way, elective surgery, had it done in the Czech Republic. (That place is MESSED-UP!)

Therefore, in honor of Mr. Puddles' sacrifice (God rest that poor dog's soul) let's get to the predictifying. And yes, predictifying is totally a word, President Bush used it in a sentence once so that makes it officialated. (Also totally a word.)

Actual New Year might

not be this adorable.

JANUARY:
While this one's not a prediction, my sources tell me that Jenna Carly Tuedla, reportedly the first baby born this year missed it by about 8.4 seconds. The true first birth of 2012 happened in a cave on the island of Fiji. Baby boy Ashneel Cokanauto entered the world at a whopping nine pounds, seven ounces. His father was not present at the birth, being a wild boar and all, probably had other stuff to do. His human mom did not survive the ordeal as his horns, tusks and hooves literally tore the poor girl a new one on the way out. Likely none of this bodes well for the rest of humanity either. Still, he is a cute little tyke… for an Anti-Christ.

Please let that be 

a mic in her pants.

FEBRUARY: 

Tragedy will strike Super Bowl XLVI (that's #46) on February 5th in Indianapolis when Madonna takes the stage to perform the half-time show. That's it… that's the tragedy, Madonna sings at half-time. On the plus side, the NFL will see a tremendous revenue boost when it gains millions of new fans as gay men all over the world tune in to watch the Material Girl perform and discover that: "Some of those football player guys are really cute." BTW, do they even still call her the Material Girl anymore? Been so long since she was relevant I wouldn't know. 

Please don't reproduce… one Anti-Christ
in the world is enough.

MARCH:
The civilized world will be shocked, disgusted, confused and afraid to witness the whirlwind courtship and nuptials of retired NFL player Michael Strahan and consistent hot-mess Lindsay Lohan. Hollywood gossip rag TMZ will dub this traffic accident 'Strohan' and report Lindsay's explanation of the coupling to be unknown. Not because of any reticence on her part, but because the answers given will be a drunken stream of unintelligible gibberish followed by whooping noises. For his part, Strahan, who had previously been romantically linked to Eddie Murphy's ex-wife Nicole, will be quoted as saying he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to get with a white chick.

APRIL:
In the face of mounting economic problems, the country of Greece will just completely shut down this year. Visitors to the shores of the Mediterranean country will find the entire nation and its islands boarded up like abandoned tenements. All calls into the capital city of Athens will be answered by an automated message that will simply state "We no here no more, okay? You no call here no more. Ain't nobody gonna be here. Okay, you hang up now, good-bye."

Because chick flicks ain't got no place in the summertime.

MAY: 

The summer movie season of 2012 will see the release of films such as The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, The Hunger Games, The Amazing Spider-Man, Men in Black III and the Ridley Scott sci-fi epic Prometheus. Due to the excitement generated by the sheer awesomeness each of these films will hopefully contain, summer 2012 should also see the frequent and uncontrolled release of my bowels. This one's not only a prediction but also a warning to all who might find themselves sitting near me in the theater.

It's the uniform… apparently chicks dig doormen.

JUNE:
Scandal rocks Buckingham Palace as Prince William gets caught mid-coitus with his sister-in-law Pippa Middleton … and her sister/his wife Kate… together at the same damn time! The situation shines a new light of world-wide respect onto the Prince (Because really, who doesn't love a good three-way?) and all of England looks brighter in the reflected badassery. (Totally a word!) A special emergency meeting of Parliament will be convened and every rule in the book will be broken as they vote unanimously to physically kick the Queen's tired old carcass off the throne, lock Charles and Camilla's ugly asses in a tower somewhere and celebrate the coronation of King Big Willie.

JULY:

The mascots should 

have been our first clue 

to how awful it would be.

Sadly, any goodwill that William, Kate and Pippa's bedroom shenanigans might gain for the Brits will be short lived. Just one month later, in an effort to keep up with the times and make the London Olympic games something young people will give a crap about, organizers will stage the opening ceremonies via flash mob. This will turn out to be a huge mistake and several deaths by fire will occur as a result of the cauldron lighting ceremony gone horribly wrong. Other such efforts to update the games will lead to the unveiling of Synchronized Planking and Freestyle Tebowing as Olympic events. The US will sadly fail to medal in either competition, a fact made all the more embarrassing since Tim Tebow himself will be sent to London to compete in the very event that bears his name.

AUGUST:

Does anything ever really happen in August? No, and 2012 will be no different. Let's move on.

SEPTEMBER:

"How we supposed to take a serious
picture with Tiny Larry down there
making us look ridiculous?"

Having finally poked their heads out from under their sheets and taken a good look around, the Ku Klux Klan will realize that the numbers just aren't on their side and vote to hang up the sheets. Most of the organization's members will simply choose to hate other races quietly, under their breath like everyone else in America. Though there will be some exceptions like the Washington D.C. chapter. Those knuckleheads will elect to go out in a literal blaze of glory with an attempt to stage a cross burning on the White House lawn. The Secret Service will forever remember the ensuing bloodbath fondly and laughingly as Operation: Oh No They Didn't!

No Betty, that's not how
you do the Shocker.

OCTOBER:
America's grandma Betty White suffers a wardrobe malfunction while visiting the cackling hens of The View. The less said about this the better. Seeing as it's a premonition that means not only have I seen it once, I might have to suffer through it again when it really happens. Dear God!

NOVEMBER:
By the time the Presidential Election rolls around in November, the Republican party will still be at odds trying to figure out who their frontrunner for the nomination will be. Although Hell-bound snowballs Rick Santorum and Ron Paul will have eventually gotten the hint and bowed out sometime over the summer, the rest of the field hangs in there for the long haul. But when the Alaskan punchline Sarah Palin officially enters the race along with 'WTF?' poster boy Gary Busey, the incredible happens, the situation gets even worse. No one thought that possible. Amidst the confusion no one even notices that the polls never open on November 6th, no one bothers or cares and President Barack Obama just stays in the Oval Office unchallenged for a second term.

DECEMBER:

End of the world fears will be put to bed when December 21st comes and goes and we do not blow up. I repeat, we're all going to be fine. See, right up there on the Mayan calendar that everyone's been so worried about, right where the arrow is pointing, that doesn't say we all die… just France. France is f@%ked, the Mayans even underlined it. So I guess we aren't ALL going to be okay, just those of us who aren't French. The rest of us will have to learn to get along without really good cheeses and the fashion world will take a hit. Other than that, nothing changes.

Well that's all folks. Now you know what you've got to look forward to in the coming months so try to act accordingly and dress appropriately. And remember, when these things all start coming true, you're going to feel a strange urge to worship me, to look to me for guidance and leadership, to erect temples and idols in my image, to send me all your money that I might live better and continue to grace you with my visions. My advice is to go with those feelings, every single one of them, act on all that shit, people. Love me and give me stuff!

This has been the Oracle, that is all.

DAY 19: SPECIAL EDITION DIRECTOR'S CUT

Well the presents have all been unwrapped, the food has all been eaten and the relatives have all gone back to wherever they came from. Consequently the credit cards have all been maxed out, I packed on about twelve pounds and several of those relatives will never speak to me again. Yup, Christmas has come and gone, thank birthday boy Jesus for that. 

I'm fully recovered from my Christmas movie induced psychotic break, thanks for asking… not that any of you did (bastards). I'm hale, hearty, optimistic, ready to move on and tackle 2012 so hard that it leaves that bitch with a permanent limp. But before that can happen, a little unfinished business needs to be seen to, some things left dangling in need of being tucked in and zipped up. (That's a pretty horrifying visual.) You may recall back on Day 19 of that whole movie thing (seems so long ago) I took in a little piece of fluff called Rose Hill but didn't write a word about it. Instead I talked about other things having to do with the setting and surroundings and the friend I was with that evening. Reason for this is simple, I was cheating. Rose Hill was not a Christmas movie and therefore should not even have been on the menu, but I threw it in there as an excuse to hang with my friend Elizabeth. (Awwwww.) Still, there were some who took umbrage to my tactic and cried bullshit, feeling that my solution was an act of cowardice, a way of avoiding making my thoughts on the movie known since someone I know was in it .

So, now that the holiday is over, I'll talk about this non-holiday film. And never let it be said that I'm afraid to make my opinion known. You can however, let it be said that I'm afraid of chocolate fountains, because I am. Just one big flowing stream of germs, no way for civilized people to eat.

Okay, let me say first that I didn't hate Rose Hill, but I didn't really like it either. I was too bored by it to really care one way or the other. Later on boredom turned to confusion, possibly because my mind drifted due to boredom and I lost track of what the hell was happening. Also, Elizabeth had this really fabulous appetizer where you take a slice of this Spanish cheese and spread on some quince paste, top it with a Marcona almond and pop it in your mouth that was just divine. So that kinda distracted me. And yeah, I did just use the words fabulous and divine in the same sentence. Threaten to take my man-card if you wanna but there's really no other way to describe the stuff so screw it. Besides, I'm married almost twenty years now, the hell do I need a man-card for anymore? Week-end trips to the mall? Holding her purse at JC Penny? Trying to pretend her ass doesn't look fat in those jeans? Trying even harder to act like I don't notice that the sales girl's ass looks smoking hot in the same brand of pants? Sitting silently while getting chewed out on the drive home because I got caught looking at the sales girl's ass? Yeah, just go ahead and take the f@%king card, I obviously have no further use for the thing.

Now with 30% more BLAH.

I should probably quit wasting my time bitching and get this movie thing done before the little woman comes home. Supposed to go look for new curtains this afternoon. (KILL ME!) So the film opens with four thieving orphan boys on the run from the cops through the streets of NYC circa 1800…ish, they discover a baby girl in a basket. Calling themselves the Clayborne family, they name the baby Mary Rose and decide to head out to Texas since that's where Adam (the black orphan) wants to go and be a cowboy. Suddenly, without benefit of any sort of transition, it's five years later and they're living in Texas as ranch hands. Five minutes after that and they recruit the ranch's lone scrub woman and move to Montana. Skip ahead again about twelve years and the Claybornes have established their own ranch named Rose Hill with scrub woman acting as the stable mother figure. Must be noted that after the first transition, with adult actors playing the Clayborne boys turned to men, it was no longer possible to tell who was who save for Adam… because, you know… he's black. Tends to stand out in a family of white dudes… as well as the rest of Montana for that matter.

Mary Rose, played by Jennifer Garner at this point is like a cat in heat, just rubbing herself up on any swinging dick suitor that comes around the farm. And many do, but she ends up giving her heart away to a nice young scoundrel, and in turn he shoots one of her brothers to death. Not sure which one, I just know that it wasn't Adam because that would've been a hate crime and I would've noticed that. Mary Rose, horny dumbass that she is, helps the scoundrel escape before the rest of the family can catch him. That ain't cool. Later, at the funeral she breaks down crying… not because brother whatshisface is gone, but because word comes down that her scoundrel crush was hunted down and killed by Rangers. This sickening display prompts Adam to tell Mary Rose the truth about where she really came from as a not-so-subtle way of telling the bitch she really ought to just go back there.

So Mary Rose is on a train back to NYC, the two remaining white brothers head out on their own as well leaving Adam, wash woman and some Indian chick Adam found in the woods and married, to tend the homestead. Gotta give Adam props for seeking love in the wilderness though, smart move. Guaranteed she never dragged him all across the state looking for bed linens. Bitch could barely even speak… always a plus. Once in NYC Mary Rose finds her real family who happen to be rich folks. Finds out that she was abandoned as part of a kidnapping/ransom plot gone wrong then finds out that back in Montana Adam is dying of a cough, (it's the 1800s, mucus was fatal back then) hotfoots it back to Rose Hill and then not much else happens after that. Think she might have gotten some deep drilling from a Scottish dude, there was something to do with dead cows, Adam's squaw maybe got knocked up. I'm not really sure what was going on toward the end because Elizabeth and I were otherwise engaged talking about how bad her cat's farts smelled by that point. And I was just amazed that I'd gotten away with blaming that on the tiny critter. Also, I was kinda looking to make a quick exit before she found what I left in the potted plant by the stairs because I don't think pinning it on the cat was gonna work for that. Perhaps if she had a mountain lion but… It was all that cheese and apparently quince paste isn't as fabulous as I though, didn't agree with me and her bathroom is really far.

I'm guessing she eventually found it though because she hasn't returned any of my calls or answered any texts since Christmas and the other day she un-friended me on Facebook.

BUT I REGRET NOTHING! BRING ON 2012!

DAY 24: THE FINAL CHAPTER

I should have had a bad feeling about this.

'Twas the night before Christmas 

And all in my head. 

The voices have been silenced, 

I've been rendered brain dead. 

~ 

A full month of holiday movies, 

Mostly Hallmark Channel fare, 

Have taken a toll on my senses. 

My mental cupboard left bare. 

~ 

I sit, verbally unresponsive, 

Thanks to the damage that I've done. 

Scaring the ever-living shit 

Out of both my loving wife and son. 

~ 

My boy is frantic and hysterical, 

Voicing his concern and his worry. 

My wife screams into her phone, 

"Please, just get here in a hurry!" 

~ 

Waiting for help to arrive, 

The little man, he begins to cry. 

He says, "Now Christmas is ruined!" 

"All because Daddy's gonna die!" 

~ 

My wife tries to calm him, 

Gives him a present to unwrap. 

And then when he's not looking, 

She gives my face a quick slap. 

~ 

Then she moves closer to me, 

Whispers so my boy cannot hear, 

"How could you do this to us, you bastard?" 

She hisses in my good ear. 

~

She's right in her anger, 

Her venom, it is just. 

This was a very, very bad idea. 

My little pet project is a bust. 

~ 

"'Twill be a Christmas movie advent calendar!" 

I had crowed with such pride. 

"I'll blog all about it, everybody." 

"Won't you come on along for the ride?" 

~

I did it all for a goof, for a laugh, 

To be funny, but alas no such luck. 

Seriously, what the hell happened? 

This is a complete clusterf@%k! 

~ 

Sitting here, staring blankly, 

Reflecting on all the films that I took in. 

Sure most of them were bad but I can't see… 

Ooops, just drooled a little on my chin. 

~ 

Perhaps it wasn't any one flick alone 

That inflicted so much harm. 

But maybe all of them together, 

Accumulation had been the charm. 

~ 

Still, after 23 of the things there'd been 

No sign of neurological attack. 

Number 24, that must have been the straw 

That broke the f@%king camel's back. 

~ 

Thought I had it made, so clever, 

But really I should have known. 

Holiday in Handcuffs screwed me, but good, 

Should have left that damned film alone. 

~ 

A real stinker about a chick with issues. 

Lemme think, who played that part? 

She was once Clarissa, then Sabrina… 

Oh yeah, it was Melissa Joan Hart. 

~ 

Desperate 'round the holiday, 

To please her mom and dad, 

Wants to finally bring home a fella. 

So she does something really bad. 

~ 

Kidnaps a guy at gunpoint 

To pretend to be her beau. 

Played by… well nothing rhymes with Lopez, 

So let's just call him Mario. 

~ 

At this point I'm gonna cheat a little. 

A small liberty that I'll take. 

But I'm writing this thing in verse you know, 

So could you cut me a f@%king break? 

~ 

Gonna refer you back to the DAY 1 entry, 

Let Holiday Engagement summarize. 

Since both tone and plot here were similar 

To that which kick-started my demise. 

~

In that film the chick hires an actor,

So they differ there, it's true. 

Melissa abducted her faux boyfriend. 

Besides that… really nothing new. 

~

And with that we've come full circle, 

I've got nothing left, there's no more. 

Just as well since it seems there's an EMS crew 

Barreling through my front door. 

~ 

As they cart me off to the loony bin, 

Safely restrained for my own sake. 

There's something else I must share with you, 

One last confession I have to make. 

~ 

You see, I'm not really posting this. 

Wish I could, yeah that'd be great. 

But how the hell could I make a blog post, 

When I'm in a catatonic state? 

~ 

I'm convinced this one-way conversation 

Is all just happening in my mind. 

Or what little of it's left anyway, 

The portion Hallmark left behind. 

~ 

You're all figments of my imagination, 

Proof that I've gone 'round the bend. 

I've enjoyed these 24 days with you, 

But now that time has come to an end. 

~ 

So as the men in white coats prepare me, 

Make sure the straps are fitted nice and tight, 

I SAY TO YOU ALL MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

I AM GETTING SO MEDICATED TONIGHT! 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!

LOVE TO YOU ALL!

DAY 23: NEXT YEAR I'M JUST DOING KWANZAA

Bet that guy poops on cars while he's
floating around up there. I would.

Yeah! This is it, last day bitches, after this I'm free! No more bad Christmas movies, no more write ups, no more dreams that begin with Santa Claus and end in blood and fire. I can get off this couch and shave and shower and live like a person again, not this filth-wallowing animal that I've become. No one but myself to blame for that sorry state of affairs, I realize that of course, but whatever… it's over! Thank you God! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Buddha, Shiva, Vishnu, Ganesh, Odin, Mother Moon and Father Sky… I don't want to leave anyone out. No deity left behind! Not gonna mention that one name though, you know the one, that name gets you put on agency watch lists by one side and gets a fatwa put on your ass by the other. So no thank you to him. Oh why not? I'm a free man now so what the hell could it hurt? Thank you Al…

…ah who am I trying to kid? That's not what I'm saying today, that's what I'd be all like if it were tomorrow. But it ain't, it's today, Day 23, one more day of this shit to go after this one, so today I'm all like mother f@%ker! Why is Christmas taking so damn long to get here already? Just taking forever, like watching your grandmother slowly struggle to get up after a fall. Sure you could speed things up, help her to her feet, make sure her hip is still intact. But you know, you just sat down to breakfast and if you help her then by the time you got back to the table your cereal is all soggy and you got that old people smell on you. Who wants that? And at least in that scenario you have a choice, could take action if you were so inclined and not such a selfish bastard. Waiting for the holidays to be over is just… son of a bitch! To quote Alvin and the Chipmunks: "We can hardly stand the wait… so Christmas hurry the f@%k up and get here before I shoot you in the face you stupid little bitch-ass holiday!" Might not be the way the song really goes, but that's how I sing it. Consequently I'm not allowed to go caroling in the state of… anywhere there's children.

Guess since the last two days of these things aren't gonna just write themselves I might as well get to it. If you were paying attention a couple days ago (probably weren't) you'll recall that the Judd Nelson holiday creep-fest Cancel Christmas was the reason Hallmark Channel and I finally parted ways. I'd had enough of the bitch and decided I needed to see other networks. Spent the prior evening with TNT and I thought I'd give the Lifetime Net another look this time, see what Christmas Angel was all about. Right before the movie began an announcer informed me that this Lifetime Original Movie was being sponsored by… come on, take a wild guess. That's right, Hallmark! Bitches followed me, couldn't just leave me in peace. Why can't they let me be happy with someone else?

Fine, whatever, I let them tag along. Christmas Angel is a pretty simple story about Ashley, a young woman with some issues… as if there's any other kind. (Oh look, women can call for a fatwa too. That's so adorable.) Holidays have gotten Ashley down and she needs a job. About the only thing good in her life is her dog named Dash. Then Dash gets hit and killed by a drunk driver. Okay, I'm just messing with you about Dash, he's fine. But that would've been awesome…ly sad. Yeah, awesomely sad is what I was going to say, because I don't have any darkness within me. No sir, no darkness here. You believe me, right? Let's get back to that movie.

Ashley takes a job as a personal assistant for her neighbor across the hall, Nick. Turns out that kindly, white haired gentleman Nick is independently wealthy and just slums it in his crappy apartment for the thrill of living poor. He also spends time doing for others and using his secret fortune to bring Christmas to the needy as a covert Santa. Nick's a real saint. (Yeah, like you couldn't see that one coming.) We find out that he's also helped Ashley in the past as well, one year ago at Christmas, he was the reason Dash just showed up on her doorstep. He knew she was having a rough go of it even back then, knew that she liked dogs, and he figured she could use a friend. Probably coulda used a couple grand as well seeing as he's got the extra scratch and all but no, the dog was very thoughtful. Nothing like another mouth to feed when you can barely pay the rent. Way to go Dick… I mean Nick.

Early on in the flick Ashley meets a young man named Will and they sort of get a thing going, even though he's pretty much a douche with just one redeeming quality, he um… uh… he… shit, I can't really think of it right now. Maybe he didn't even have one. Totally possible since he's an investigative journalist who spends most of his screen time either following Ashley around like a stalker or bugging her for an interview with Nick so he can expose their whole secret operation. All worried about where his next story is coming from instead of working to get all up in Ashley sideways like any decent guy would. Reporters are the worst. Like that guy Mr. McGhee from the old Incredible Hulk series, remember him? Couldn't stand that guy! Every week I kept hoping the Hulk would drop-kick his ass off a cliff or something but nope, he survived every time to come back next episode and be a jerk. Still for some reason, Ashley digs him — she digs Will, not Mr. McGhee — and she keeps giving him a chance even though they have the sexual chemistry of a garden gnome sitting in a bucket of dirt. I could be wrong though, garden gnomes might be into that, I don't know and I ain't one to judge.

Meanwhile, since no good deed goes unpunished, Nick gets cancer and dies. Not that quickly of course, takes about fifteen minutes, only a two hour movie for crying out loud. He leaves his fortune to Ashley and asks her to continue his good works, and she does so by living as he did and doing as he would've done like a dumbass. Stays in the same apartment, and brings joy to the needy, especially at Christmastime. Doesn't buy a fancy new car or a big house or a solid gold bidet that shoots champagne. Oh, like I'm the only one who would cleanse their crack with a '75 Dom Perignon if they had the cash? Bullshit! Don't even try to fake, you know that sounds like one luxuriously refreshing squat! Probably tickles, like pixie kisses. (Ohhhhhh!)

Overall though, I kinda liked this movie. Nick and Ashley's story and their scenes together were nice and believable. I was able to tolerate Will, albeit just barely. His being a two dimensional character on my TV screen made the task doable. If he existed in the real world and were right in front of me I wouldn't be in such good humor and I'd have to pee on him. Not in a weird way or nothing, I just think reporters should be peed on, most of them deserve it and it would help them learn their place. That's how the Hulk should have handled that McGhee fellow, should've whipped it out and pissed on him. Probably would have been like hitting him with a fire hose, knocked him across the street and slammed him into a parked car, gamma irradiated urine burning the flesh right off that nosy f@%ker's bones. Then he coulda been all like: "Puny Banner warned you not make Hulk angry, beeyatch!"

You ever write something down, go back and read it later and think "Holy shit, what the f@%k is wrong with me?" Yeah, that last bit was such a moment. All right, I've got darkness in here.