Oh I Wish I Were an Oscar…

Some final random thoughts on this year’s Oscars.

Two years ago Oscar host Seth McFarlane seriously pissed off actresses with his musical number “We Saw Your Boobs.” This year, Oscar host Neil Patrick Harris showed solidarity with those actresses by displaying his boobs.
I fully expected Robert Duvall to pull a Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
John Travolta appeared to be auditioning for the lead in the Joe Biden biopic.
Scarlett Johansen gave a master class in throwing shade when Travolta kissed her. The temperature in the room plummeted 20 degrees in an instant. A solution to global warming?
And talking about shade, did you see 50 Shades of Grey star Dakota Johnson (we saw your boobs) on the red carpet venting daughterly exasperation toward her mother, who happens to be actress Melanie Griffith. It seems Griffith did not want to watch her daughter in an erotic movie. This is the same Griffith who first appeared in racy nude scenes when she was 17 (we saw yours too). Hooray for Hollywood!
I try to keep up with who’s who in the latest generation of actors and actresses but I confess I find it hard to keep them straight. Most appear to be generic-looking pretty boys or thin blondes with great hair. Sometimes all in one.
After Lady Gaga wowed with her Sound of Music medley, Julie Andrews hugged her and, with tears in her eyes, whispered in Gaga’s ear “stay away from Captain von Trapp, he’s mine.”
Apparently the winners in the various foreign film categories were most impressed that their Oscars apparently qualified them for free doughnuts and booze.
The Lego production number made me reminisce about Dumbo’s “Pink Elephants on Parade,” which I saw at least 40 times on VHS thanks to my little Girlsicle.
Many of the winners used their acceptance speeches to promote a cause. The most noticed was Patricia Arquette who spoke passionately in favor of Equal Pay for White Women Actors. Lesser causes, according to my notes: Don’t Interrupt Your Parents, Save the Kale, Vaccine Science Reading Rooms, and Close Carry, Open Carry, Jim Carrey.
Why did I think Birdman was a remake of Birdman of Alcatraz?
Jaret, your barber called. You missed your appointment. Again.

50 Shades of Sponge

A drive-in theater in California showed 50 Shades of Grey and The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water on its two screens. Many of the kids watching SpongeBob also had a great view of Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey performing at a MPAA code significantly higher than G.

Someone should do a mash-up of the two films. I wonder who could take on such a delicate task?

Our movie begins with the SpongeBob theme song.

Are you ready, kids?
Aye-aye, Master.
I can’t hear you! (whipping sound)
Ouch! AYE-AYE, MASTER!

Ohhhhhhhhh, who lives in a dungeon down under the pee,
SpongeBob LeatherPants,

Tied up and whipped and blindfolded is he,
SpongeBob LeatherPants.

You can do anything to him that you please,
SpongeBob LeatherPants,

Especially with pulleys and a trapeze,

SpongeBob LeatherPants, SpongeBob LeatherPants, SpongeBob LeatherPants, SpongeBob…LeatherPants!

Deedle dee dee dee dee, OW!

Patrick. “Well here we are, four innocents from Bikini Bottom, somehow able to exist on land, approaching Times Square. It’s been cleaned up a lot since its sleazy days but there are still seedy areas if one looks hard enough.”

Squidward. “Enough with the exposition already! Do you think the audience is as stupid as you are?”

Patrick sees a rat.

Patrick. “Here kitty kitty.”

Mr. Krabs. “Hey do you smell that?”

SpongeBob and Squidward sniff the air and gag.

Mr. Krabs. “That’s the smell of money, me mateys! Time to investigate opening a branch of me Krusty Krab to sell Krabby Patties to all these money-laden suckers, I mean tourists.”

Squidward. Well, I came here for culture and relaxation. Hey, there’s a massage parlor. I could use a little pampering. Hmmm, those women must be awfully cold in those skimpy outfits.”

SpongeBob is now all alone. He sighs and looks sad and lonely. A sexy female voice is heard from the shadows.

Sexy female voice. “Hey there Mellow Yellow, you look kind of sad and lonely. Want to come with me for a good time?”

SpongeBob. “Oh boy, that sounds wonderful!”

Mrs. Puff, dressed as a Dominatrix, steps out of the shadows.

SpongeBob. “Oooooh. I love the look. Is that Versace?”

Mrs. Puff. “Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination.”

SpongeBob. “Hey, that’s from Willy Wonka! Where are the Oompa Loompas?”

Mrs. Puff. “I’m going to rock your Oompa Loompas, my porous one.

They enter a dark room. When the lights are turned up SpongeBob sees a wall lined with instruments of torture such as fishing lines and lures, shrimp cocktail forks, oyster shuckers, fillet knives, and leather lobster claw ties.

SpongeBob. “Ooooh. Pretty!”

Mrs. Puff. Up on the table, my holely one. Here, let me tie you down so you, er, don’t fall off and hurt yourself.”

SpongeBob. “Gee, you’re so thoughtful.”

Mrs. Puff. “Before we start we need a safe word in case you want me to stop.”

SpongeBob. “How about ‘Stop’?”

Mrs. Puff. (Silence)

SpongeBob. “Then ‘Patrick’ because he makes me feel safe.”

Mrs. Puff. “OK. Now, first I’m going to take this feather and tickle you.”

SpongeBob. “PATRICK!”

Patrick opens door and enters.

Patrick. “Did you call me SpongeBob?”

SpongeBob. No, I called you Patrick.”

Mrs. Puff. “Go away!”

Patrick. “Okay. Here kitty kitty.”

Mrs. Puff again approaches SpongeBob with the feather.

SpongeBob. “PATRICK!”

Patrick opens door and enters.

Patrick. “Did you call me SpongeBob?”

SpongeBob. No, I called you Patrick.”

Mrs. Puff. “Enough! Are there any of your friends who are able and willing to do what I want?”

SpongeBob. “Well, Patrick is willing to do anything but able to do nothing. Squidward can do anything but willing to do nothing. Mr. Krabs is willing AND able to do anything…for money.”

Mrs. Puff. “You two, Dumb and Dumbest, get out!”

Back on the street.

SpongeBob. “Gee, what a classy lady. I hope she finds true love.”

Patrick. “I doubt it if she’s gonna tickle him all the time. Look! There’s kitty near those garbage cans. And she has lots of friends!”

The End

Report: Jon Stewart to Join Jeffsicle

Jon Stewart, who is leaving The Daily Show this fall after 16 years of pointing out the sublime and (mostly) ridiculous antics of politicians and other reprobates, will join the Jeffsicle blog before the end of 2015, according to an anonymous source.

Stewart apparently said he is joining Jeffsicle because “it won’t bleep the dirty words” and because of the assortment of fresh donuts delivered daily to the Jeffsicle newsroom. He also is said to have cited the office’s proximity to the Capitol building in Washington as a plus. “This way, if I see a congressional weasel walk by my window on the way to his afternoon tryst, I can shout insults directly at him rather than having to wait to post them on Jeffsicle.”

According to a Jeffsicle spokesperson, if all goes well Stewart will begin at the blog on December 1. He added that while Stewart “is a big star in New York and D.C, he has to prove he can connect to the little people in places like small town Ohio and Alabama and Micronesia. At the end of a six-month probationary period we’ll evaluate his progress.”

Several former Daily Show correspondents who have moved on to find greater success elsewhere reacted to the breaking news.

Steven Colbert: “Hooray for Jon. I was afraid he was going to ask me for a job on my new show. Wasn’t gonna happen.”
Larry Wilmore: “I don’t care where his scrawny white ass goes, they just better get me a good fucking lead-in to replace him.”
John Oliver: “I always felt he looked down on me due to my British accent and the ‘h’ in my name, so let me just say this: Jon, I’m on H-B-Bloody-O and you’re going to be on something called Jezebel. Or Tricycle. Or something.”
Steve Carrell: “Jon Stewart? I thought he joined the circus years ago.”

Others also weighed in on the announcement.

Bill O’Reilly: “Jeffsicle? What’s the matter, didn’t WKRP in Cincinnati have any openings?”
Fox News: “Jon Stewart is a socialist communist fascist Islamist liberal who trained at the feet of head socialist Eugene Debs. Even worse, he doesn’t believe Santa Claus was born white.”
Jon’s mother, Marian Leibowitz: “You must be mistaken, I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Kim Kardashian: “Want to see my bubble butt?”

According to sources, there are some contentious contractual issues that might kill the negotiations.

For example, Jeffsicle wants Stewart to:

change his name to Jonsicle Stewart.
Include “Produced in Cooperation with Jeffsicle” on all movies Stewart produces while at Jeffsicle. In additional there would have to be at least two Jeffsicle product placements in each movies.

Meanwhile Stewart has asked for:

a live studio audience while his writes his blog.
a chef to prepare his special recipe guacamole.

Happy Birthday Abie Baby

I tell you, I don’t get no respect.

Sixteenth President, saved the union, freed the slaves, and I’ll bet you don’t even know today is my birthday.

It used to be a big thing, a holiday in many states. Kids had no school and they loved me for that. There were Lincoln Day sales—my likeness was plastered all over newspaper ads. Newspapers wrote glowing editorials about me.

And then in 1971 the Congress, which was a collection of weasels even back in my day, moved “Washington’s Birthday” from February 22 to the third Monday in February so you all could get a three-day weekend. Buh-bye Lincoln’s birthday celebrations! It’s still officially named for George but many call it Presidents Day, supposedly to honor all of us Presidents. Bull chips!

First of all, there weren’t more than a handful of us worth spit. Sure there was George, and Tom, maybe AndyJack, definitely Teddy and Franklin. If I had a whiskey I might name a few more, but that’s it. What the heck was Congress was thinking?

I may be dead but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Look, I don’t want to complain, but when it comes to comparing Georgie and me, I think the deck is stacked.

I was a lawyer. People hate lawyers. George was a “war hero.” People love war heroes. (People forget I was commander-in-bleeping-chief of the Union Army, for crying out loud. Guess I should have listened to Stanton and had Brady take some pictures of me in uniform.)

George was always painted being on some damn horse. People love horses. Or they painted him in such historic poses you could practically see the halo descending from heaven. And standing in the boat. What was that about? Hello, marine safety? (That crank Adams said George fell in the Delaware twice. But did anyone paint that?)

Everyone knows me through Mathew Brady’s stilted old photos. You think my image wouldn’t have been improved by a little Photoshopping? Plus I had to stand stock still for those long exposures. Hard to look inspiring when you want to scratch your privates but can’t.

I did my schoolwork with charcoal on a shovel by the fireplace. I overcame abject poverty, early electoral defeats, and a physique like a scarecrow to become President. Inspirational, right? But George’s press agent passed around those cockamamie stories about that damn cherry tree and throwing a dollar across the Potomac. Made him seem human instead of the unsmiling grump he really is. (By the way, Woodrow told me a joke: ‘why can’t anyone repeat the Washington dollar trick? Because the dollar doesn’t go as far as it used to.’)

Speaking of money, do you know who uses pennies these day? NO ONE. Each home has hundreds of images of me in glass containers. And I don’t mean a shrine. (Poor Tom is worried his plug nickel is next. As if anyone cares.) Meanwhile quarters get all the attention like that series of state coins. Whose face is on the quarter? Mr. “First in the Hearts of his Countrymen.” Sheesh.

(A quick shout-out to Daniel Day-Lewis. Dan, you da man!)

Washington was a landowner, surveyor, and distiller who was a hardass dealing with debtors and poachers. I wanted charity for all. Guess nice guys do finish last.

Washington left office a wealthy man. I left it dead.

I tell you, I don’t get no respect.

The Times They Are A-Changin’

In 1941 Franklin Roosevelt spoke eloquently in his inaugural address of “four freedoms” that people the world over should enjoy:

Freedom of Speech
Freedom of Worship
Freedom from Want
Freedom from Fear

Four score minus six years later, a significant part of the nation seems obsessed about different freedoms, including:

Freedom of Speech for conspiracy theories
Freedom of Worship for approved religions
Freedom from Want of assault rifles
Freedom from Fear of black Santas.

And, of course, the freedom to serve fecal matter to restaurant customers.

Say what?

For the latter freedom we can thank freshman Senator Thom Tillis (R-NC). He had his choice of sexy issues—like polluting the environment, banning Sharia law, and encouraging the spread of infectious disease. However, he chose the mothership: regulatory burden.

It seems the senator doesn’t think restaurants should be forced by the government to require employees to wash their hands after using the toilet. To be fair, he is not pro-fecal matter per se. He simply wants the “marketplace” (cue the heavenly music) to provide the incentive.

A restaurant that does not require hand washing would have to alert patrons to that fact. Anyone made queasy by that could eat elsewhere, and the restaurant would either have to require hand washing or go out of business. Another marketplace success! And after that we could tackle auto and airline safety, building construction codes, x-ray radiation limits, financial services…so many areas, so little marketplace enforcement.

But could this really work without a government enforcement mechanism? You betcha, because it is well known that business fully subscribes to the concept of transparency with customers! Case-in-point: your friendly cable provider.

The Constitution was written to elect members of the House by popular vote. However, as a way to keep the unwashed uneducated masses and their representatives in the House from having too much say, senators were elected by state legislatures. The 17th Amendment changed that, but it’s mindsets like Tillis’s that make me think the Founding Fathers were on to something. Unfortunately, numerous news reports make it clear that members of state legislatures are actually worse than those in Congress.

Where is freedom from fecal matter when you need it?

Flush One for Yes, Two for No

Several years ago we witnessed the demise of the telephone booth. Made obsolete by cell phones, the booths were repurposed or demolished or left to decay.

Not so fast. It turns out that, human nature being what it is, the need remained for semi-private communications pods.

The scene: a mall food court men’s room. I enter to find all three stalls occupied. So I wait patiently.

And wait. Less patiently.

And wait. More panicky.

Then, during a brief moment of silence, I hear the following noises coming from behind the stall doors.

 A discussion by a housing contractor about a job site.

 Muffled speech and the occasional expletive surrounding the occasional “ding.”

 “Tap tap tap tap”

And at that instant I realize that the bathroom stall is the new phone booth.

Those weren’t teenagers in there. It was a weekday with school in session. ‘Twas grown-ups who finally exited the stalls. Adults with jobs and families and crushing debt and secrets they’d never tell their wives.

It was bad enough when stalls were hogged by employees taking a surreptitious work break. Now customers were conducting business, web surfing, and reading and responding to email and texts way past the time required to do what brought them there. My God, they may even have been reading blogs!

I assume the situation is the same if not worse in the ladies room. However I decided that research to confirm this theory was unwise. Any comments from female readers with your observations of this phenomenon would be enlightening to us all.

I doubt restaurants, malls, and other public facilities made smartphone use a part of the algorithm they use to decide how many stalls to install. The situation will only get worse. Perhaps Miss Manners will weigh in on how one should act when confronted by closed doors.

Until then, just think of me if you get the urge to overstay your welcome. I need to check my e-mail too, you know.

Obit Writers Say The Darndest Things

The obituary of Colleen McCullough in The Australian newspaper really struck a nerve among those who think women are treated less seriously than men. If you missed it, the obit for the respected neuroscientist and author of 25 books, including the The Thorn Birds (30 million copies sold and a hugely popular miniseries) began this way:

“Colleen McCullough, Australia’s best-selling author, was a charmer. Plain of feature, and certainly overweight, she was nevertheless a woman of wit and warmth. In one interview she said, ‘I’ve never been into clothes or figure and the interesting thing is I never had any trouble attracting men.'”

In reaction, the Internet let out a collective yawp that, once again, a woman of accomplishment had been treated without dignity, just as Yvonne Brill had been earlier this year when the rocket scientist’s NY Times obit began “She made a mean beef stroganoff….”

Let’s imagine how the obits of famous men might have looked if we followed similar guidelines for them.

 “Mahatma Ghandi, whose refusal to wear more than a bed sheet to clothe his anorexic body did not gain him fashion fame as did the jackets named after his political heir Jawaharlal Nehru…

 “Ronald Reagan, a handsome actor with limited range who found success in politics late in life, never admitted that he colored his hair well into his 80s….

” Ernest Hemingway, who enjoyed drink, woman, firearms, machismo, and simple sentences, was the grandfather of actresses Margaux and Mariel Hemingway….

 “Mark Twain, a raconteur whose love of white suits inspired Tom Wolfe’s wardrobe decades later….

 “Thomas Edison, remembered for his histrionics when AC electric power was choses over his DC power to light up the nation and run those inventions of his….

 “Albert Einstein, a scientist who late in life became a beloved cult figure thanks to his lack of fashion sense and perpetually unkempt hair….

 “Winston Churchill, who led England during World War Two despite being obese, drunk, and reeking of cigar smoke for much of the conflict…

 “Elvis Presley, America’s best-selling rock singer, was a charmer. In no way plain and certainly overweight, he was nevertheless a man of wit and warmth. In one interview he said, ‘I’ve never been into hygiene or figure and the interesting thing is I never had any trouble attracting women.’

OMG! So cute! You won’t believe #17!

Welcome to Jeffsicle, a humor site with a proclivity toward lists. These are not “listicles” designed as click bait but are hand-crafted essays written with love. And a computer, because love lacks a USB port. All posts are 100% organic and original (*except for unoriginal parts that appear naturally in the wild). Before I had children I regularly wrote humor articles for The Washington Post. After I had children, not so much. Well, the kids are grown, but newspapers aren’t printing much freelance humor these days, so here we are. Enjoy!

Jeffsicle

Icicle. Popsicle. Listicle. Jeffsicle.

Month: February 2015