Can I get a little salt with these wounds?

CINNAMON TOAST CUNTS! What the fuck is up with all these hot-ass Hollywood bitches and their hatred for screenwriters? I'm referring to Jessica Alba and Catherine Heigl in particular, although I am sure they are not alone. They recently told the press that screenwriters have been holding them back, ruining their careers with crappy material, and were at best tangentially involved with their success as actors. Alba even said that any actor who's worth his salt will make up his own lines, never sticking to the script.

As I happen to consider myself a writer (and no, this blog doesn't count), I take a  buttload of umbrage at the ignorance of these statements. Screenwriters, having been afflicted with an incurable case of Not-famous, are unable to defend themselves in any meaningful way. We are without exception ugly, depressed, basement-dwelling weirdos who couldn't get laid even if someone stuck a gun in one of our ears and a wet pussy in the other. Every night, while you hot, famous bitches are tooling around in your Bugatti Veyrons and snorting blow off Ashton Kutcher's butt cheeks, we're at home alone, drinking to keep Sammy Suicide locked in his Josef Fritzl-style oubliette. We can only dream of what it must be like to be insanely attractive, wealthy, and socially vibrant people, and we do our best to conjure up these scenarios on paper so that they might be brought to vivid life on and off screen by ungrateful sluts like you.

MUST...SUPPRESS...ANGER-BONER!

And while I understand that you are busy people -- there are so many opportunities out there for you to receive free drugs and hot, worshipful sex -- next time a script comes across your desk, don't just hand it off to one of your indentured servants, crack the fucking thing open and take a look at all the hard work that was put into it. The script doesn't start and end with your lines, sweetheart. An entire narrative world had to be crafted so that you and your luscious titties could flounce onto the screen and give us your best rendition of 'pained regret' or 'carefree laughter.' Think about that next the time you're marshaling all of your talents to try and convince us that you find Ryan Reynolds' witty and self-effacing jet fighter pilot attractive.

That's better.

100 Followers -- 100 Reasons to Hate

In recognition of my first hundred followers, I'm listing the top 100 things I'm butthurt about. Ready? Here we go:

100. The Pittsburgh Steelers
99. Smoothies
98. Excessively long lists
97. Every Weezer album since Pinkerton
96. MMORPGs
95. The Black Eyed Peas
94. U.S. Soccer
93. Dave Matthews got sober
92. Amy Winehouse got drunk(er)
91. No Star Wars on Blu-ray
90. Han shooting second
89. The prequel trilogy
88. The Pirates sequels
87. The Matrix sequels
86. Spider-Man 3
85. X-Men 3
84. Iron Man 2
83. The ending of Lost
82. The ending of Seinfeld
81. The ending of The Sopranos
80. The ending of The Dark Tower Series
79. Call of Duty: Lag Ops
78. The GM EV-1
77. The New York Yankees
76. The DMV
75. Restless leg syndrome
74. Gonorrhea...thanks, Rachel
73. Admitting I have Gonorrhea
72. Anal bleeding
71. Male pattern baldness
70. Female pattern baldness
69. Brazilian waxing
68. Psoriasis
67. Cirrhosis of the liver
66. Auditory hallucinations
65. Electro-convulsive therapy
64. McDonald's!
63. Thomas Edison
62. The Magnificent Ambersons
61. Uwe Boll
60. Katy Perry
59. Taylor Swift
58. Greyhound buses
57. This idea
56. Pablo Picasso
55. l33t sp34k
54. Texting
53. Sexting
52. Premature Ejexting
51. Gene Hackman quit movies
50. Welcome To Mooseport
49. Wal-Mart
48. Chinese Democracy
47. Brian Wilson
46. The Monkees
45. Kings got canceled
44. Deadwood got canceled
43. Pushing Daisies got canceled
42. Arrested Development got canceled
41. The Office jumped the shark
40. Cowboy Bebop ended
39. No good anime for 5+ years
38. Hating on Megan Fox
37. American Idol
36. Duke Nukem Forever
35. Pokemon 4ever
34. Pokemon period.
33. Brand Spankin' New Doug
32. Cats
31. Roaches
30. Pigeons
29. Fleas
28. Wasps
27. WASPs
26. James Patterson
25. Dan Brown
24. Dan Simmons can't write endings
23. Richard Dawkins
22. Pat Robertson
21. Glenn Beck
20. Pooping
19. Muse fans
18. People who hate Muse because of the fans
17. Radio Country
16. Facebook
15. Andy Whitfield got cancer
14. Optimus Prime died
13. Duke woke up from his coma
12. Excessively negative people
11. Glittery vampires
10. NASA faked the moon landing
9. Fossil fuels
8. Hybrid cars
7.Jeff Magnum quit music
6.Bill Watterson quit comics
5. No smoking in bars
4. Kurt Vonnegut died
3. Natalie Portman got pregnant and engaged
2. 3-D movies
1. I only have 100 followers

If you think I just shot my wad for this whole blog, don't worry, I'll have a hundred more by this time tomorrow. No shortage of rage here.

Thunder in Paradise

With a brand new game out for the Wii, I thought this would be a perfect oppurtunity to talk about two of the most selfish, sadistic, and downright evil protagonists to ever grace a video game: The Kong Brothers, Donkey and Diddy.

He may look friendly, but behind those eyes lurks the mind of a killer

Anyone who was paying attention during the original game (c'mon guys, it only came out seventeen years ago), should immediately understand what I'm talking about. For you poor bastards who had to play a ::cringe:: Genesis growing up, allow me to explicate. The story of Donkey Kong Country revolves around the aforementioned Kong brothers, two lazy celebrities resting on their laurels in a beautiful tropical paradise. All is quite peaceful until their hidden stash of bananas is stolen by an allegedly villainous reptilian race, the Kremlings. In response, these two psychotic douchebags venture out into the world and commit genocide on the people they think are responsible. That's right, somebody stole their fucking bananas, and now, they're not just going to kill him, they're going to kill his whole fucking family and anyone who even vaguely resembles him. They wipe out an entire race and along the way, they're also content to kill any indigenous animal that strays into their path, leaving the jungles barren and empty in a holocaust of rage.

All this over goddamn bananas? There were more bananas stored away in that cave than anyone could possibly eat! They would've spoiled within a few days! Meanwhile, who knows how many animals were starving out there because of their insanely covetous ways. They're kind of like the French Monarchy during the time of the 1789 Revolution, only in this case, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette disembark from Versailles and personally behead everyone in the fucking country.

And the Kremlings, ok, they look kind of sinister, but they're crocodiles, snakes and lizards, they can't really help that. Most of them are just walking around innocently or toiling away in the mines at the behest of their dictator when the Kongs swoop in and murder them. These poor, mutated bastards don't stand a chance.

Whyyyyy does that reptile have nipples?

This is the lesson we teach to young children? If somebody messes with your stuff, go kill anyone who has the same skin color as fast as you can? Nice message Nintendo, and we thought you were the family friendly video game company.

My Ads 2.0

Ok, I'm kind of biting the hand that feeds me here, but what the fuck is up with my advertisements? This morning, I got up to check the blog and found it plastered with ads for Justin Bieber! Since this discovery was combined with a wicked case of morning wood, that goddamn Google AdSense had me questioning my sexuality! Alright, I admit it, the Biebs does kind of have it going on, but...no! NOOOOO! Damn you AdSense, you are not going to turn me into a pole-smoker! I am not going to start playing the skin flute just to get a few extra bucks out of a fucking blog!

Damn you and your adorable little bowl-cut!

So yeah, I'm a little pissed off at Justin Bieber right now. I mean, I don't think he's the fucking anti-Christ like most people, but his fans do creep me out. Check out one of his concert videos, when they cut to the audience, it looks like footage from the movie Jesus Camp. Seriously, the mindless devotion in these girls' tear-filled eyes is pretty disturbing. I'm sure if Justin Bieber told them to start stuffing Jews into ovens, they would obey without a second's hesitation.

 Ah, the childhood memories...

Oh yeah, and did you know Justin Bieber was nominated for a BET award? What the fuck was that for, his shoes?

Sweet Tims, yo.

SO YEAH, I'm gonna go watch about four hours of lesbian porn and forget this ever happened.




DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE A FUCKING COMMENT.

Q. Whaaaaazzzzzupp?? A. Kill Yourself.

Today's butthurt is sadly brought to you by my absolute favorite thing on this earth: beer. I love beer, and beer has always loved me back, unlike Meredith, but she's sleeping in four places under my rose garden. Yes, beer has never been a lying, two-timing bitch to me, and her myriad styles and variations have kept me endlessly surprised and elated while I waited for the alcohol to complete its transmission to the brain. In many ways, beer has more variety and subtlety to it than wine, and without the insane, eye-gouging prices of vineyards. I don't consider myself a beer snob either, rather I'm a beer slut, equally happy to be holding the finest Belgian quadrupel or the lowliest, lukewarm can of PBR.

I'm sure you were all waiting for the other shoe to drop, and yes, don't worry, I am positively incontinent with hate, all directed at the absolute enemy of beer, the soulless tyrant known as:

Yes, this quintessentially American product, right up there with Coca-Cola and slaves, is actually owned by a Belgian company called InBev. This paragon of American industry now sends its profits overseas, to be divided up among gnomes and leprechauns and other greedy, sub-human European cave dwellers.

Also, Budweiser has long identified itself as the King of Beers. A more accurate subtitle would be the Dictator of Malt Liquors, or maybe just the Prince of Lies. That's right, it's not even a fucking beer. While most beers are barley malt, water and hops, Budweiser is brewed primarily with rice, because -- you guessed it -- it's cheaper. And yet they still have the balls to call it the King of Beers, and perhaps even worse 'The Great American-style lager.' It's a slander against our great country, akin to naming your state dog the sewer rat. Americans are quite capable of making great beers, anything by Sierra Nevada, Southern Tier, Great Divide, or Dogfish head --just to name a few-- is ample proof of that, but when our chief export remains a watered down shitstain of a product that can't even be classified as beer, can you really blame the rest of the beer-drinking world for looking down on us?

So all that is pretty fucking heinous, but it pales it comparison to Budweiser's greatest sin of all: they don't even attempt to make a decent beer on the side and give themselves a shred of credibility. For anyone who loves beer, this is a slap in the face. And not just any slap in the face, it's a cock-slap from a homeless man who hasn't showered since the Reagan administration.

Seriously, with all their fucking money and their multiple theme parks and even their stewardship by those dastardly Belgians -- who know a thing or two about making some quality fucking beer -- you're telling me they can't make one product, one single beer, that doesn't taste like a week-old urine sample? That's just plain cold.






LEAVE SOME GODDAMN COMMENTS IF YOU WANT, I'LL BE WAY TOO DRUNK TO READ THEM.

21st Century Butthurt Man

So, you guys have seen the grammy nominations, right? I think just about everyone who's interested in music has been butthurt about the grammys at one point or another. However, most of us stopped caring long ago, because the grammys are so obviously a soulless, idiotic pageant of pusillanimous pop music that we don't even have the butthurt to spare. You might say, The Grammys, dude?? Baby's first butthurt.

But then they did something that I just cannot ignore. That's right grammys, you have my attention for the first time in years, and had I the resources and a curative for my crippling agoraphobia, I would march out to the Staples Center, burn that mother to the ground and douse the flames with a mighty blast of piss.

What might you ask, has got me as butthurt as a pack of web-saavy Egyptians?

Let's take a look at the album of the year nominations:

The Suburbs - Arcade Fire
Recovery - Eminem
Need You Now - Lady Antebellum
The Fame Monster - Lady Gaga
Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

So, these are the grammys for 2010, right? You're telling me you had a spot for Lady Gaga's The Fame Monster, which came out in 2009, and yet you didn't have a fucking nomination to spare for the best-reviewed album of the year? Yes, I'm talking about Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, a mainstream hip-hop/pop album, exactly the kind of music these grammy voters usually gobble up like day-old jizz -- which is to say with vigorous enthusiasm -- but an album that was also hailed unilaterally by anyone with a fucking brain stem as the best thing to come out in a long, long time. Hell, I don't mind saying it, I think it's the best album to come out since Funeral. Yeah, I went there. This was the number one album according to Spin, Rolling Stone, Vibe, and Pitchfork (who gave it a perfect ten, btw), but fuck all that, because it was the number one album according to me! Anyone who can make a King fucking Crimson sample seem perfectly timed and vitally relevant to their music deserves some kind of medal in my book, and that's just one of hundreds of brilliant moments on a sprawling, blood sweat and tears masterpiece.

I'mma let you finish guys, but Mubarak was one of the best presidents of all time!

 And you gave a nomination to Katy Perry? Katy fucking Perry???? That troll can't even fucking sing! She's only famous because she said she likes kissing girls! I mean, I'm all about some girls kissing, but she's basically the cultural equivalent of that skanky chick who stands up on the bar and makes out with her wasted friend because she can't get any guys to pay attention to her! Whhaaaaatt the fuuuuuuuuuccckk???

Next time I'm about to look at the grammy nominations, someone do me a favor and shoot me in the head.




ANY GAY FISH WHO WANTS TO LEAVE A COMMENT ABOUT HOW KANYE SUCKS AND NEEDS TO SHUT UP SHOULD GO STAB HIMSELF IN THE EYES WITH AN AIDS-INFECTED SYRINGE. CHURCH.

2011: The Year Hollywood Went Full Retard

2010 was a shitty fucking year for movies, I think we can all agree. Probably the worse in a decade. Think I'm butthurt about that? Well you'd be dead fucking wrong, because I've got bigger fish to fry. 2011 is about to make it look like a combination of 1999 and 1939. What the fuck does that mean, you ask? It means going to the movies in 2011 is going to be about as much fun as stapling your testicles.

We've got the inevitable slate of superhero movies, only this summer's crop is more like the TURBO RETARD EDITION. In years past, a very select few of these "crowd-pleasing" adventure, romance, sci-fi, one size fits all, edgy for a PG-13 rating, cgi coated abortions have actually surprised me. They managed to rise above the utterly cynical process that created them and become decent movies with the unfortunate handicap of portraying superheroes. But 2011 isn't offering any Dark Knights. Hell, they'll be lucky to pull off a Ghost Rider. I'm serious, it's that bad. There's The Green Lantern, with Ryan Reynolds unashamedly wanking all over himself in a cartoon suit, and a supporting cast of aliens that look like the Mass Effect crew with fetal alcohol syndrome. Peter Sarsgaard is also in it, the poor bastard. This cat has been turning in great performances for the better part of a decade, and it doesn't seem like anyone could give less of a fuck about him. Seriously, I've never seen Hollywood put more effort into ignoring an actor. So yeah, he's playing a bad guy with a huge latex application stuck on his head. Might as well give him a bottle of whiskey and a revolver and take bets on how quickly he'll blow his fucking brains out.

Hasn't he been through enough?

Also, there's Thor, which I'm particularly butthurt about, because here you've got a great Silver Age character who recently experienced a creative renaissance, but one who certainly needs to be handled with an intelligent, measured approach. Enter Kenneth fucking Branaugh. Subtle is not in his vocabulary. He doesn't think you'll understand something as simple and iconic as Frankenstein unless he includes explosions, k-y wrestling matches, abortions, and a Mortal Kombat-style heart removal. Combine his 'reckless child' approach to directing with 3-D glasses and way too much money and well, just watch the fucking trailer. I plan on going to this movie blind drunk and mocking it for the duration.

Seriously, what could go wrong?

Then there's Captain America, which was reported to be so heinously uncool that even world-class toolshed Chris Evans wanted nothing to do with it. Apparently, they finally offered him way too much money, because he's starring in the fucking thing.Yeah, that's right, Chris Evans is going to be the leader of The Avengers. Just looking at the production stills made me vomit with rage.

In not-quite-related matters, there's the desperate mash-up Cowboys Vs. Aliens, in which amnesiac cowhand Daniel Craig shoots down UFOs with a plastic bracelet. The sad fact remains that this is the most promising summer blockbuster of the year, but I will probably commit seppuku before it hits theaters.

We're also getting more Pirates of the Carribean, more Hangover, more X-Men, more Sherlock Holmes, more Transformers, more Final Destination, more Muppets, more Mission Impossible, more Scream, more Kung-Fu fucking Panda. Seriously, do Hollywood execs break out in hives when they get near new ideas? Pixar's even doing a sequel to their worst fucking movie, Cars. The one studio we could count on to at least make something heartfelt and intelligent decided to go round two with Larry the Cable Guy. Fuck. My. Life.

So yeah, I don't even know what to say, Hollywood, except that you've outdone yourselves.




GO ON, LEAVE ME A COMMENT. I'LL LEAVE YOU IN A POOL OF YOUR OWN BLOOD.