Jesus is apparently middle management

March 12, 2009

Inspired from my fellow blogger and ex-roomie at Middle of Nowhere
Jesus does his annual performance review with Saint Polycarp, Patron Saint of Earaches

(Jesus is doing paperwork. Knock on the door)

Jesus: Yes?

Polycarp: Jesus, hi.  I’m a couple minutes early, are we still-

Jesus: Polycarp, how you doing?  Come on in.  Just catching up with some reports (makes “crazy day” gesture).  Don’t even worry about it. Have a seat.

Polycarp: Good, great (sits down)

Jesus: So it’s been a year Polycarp, how have you been doing?

Polycarp: It’s been okay I guess.  Not bad.

Jesus: Yeah not bad.  Kids okay?

Polycarp: Oh, my 259th generational descendants?  I don’t really keep in touch with them too much anymore (shrugs).  Their ears have been pretty good.

Jesus: Nice nice.  Well let’s get right down to it.  I’ve been going over your performance results (shuffles through paper).  Truthfully, they’re a little lean.  You’re not bringing a whole ton of people to the flock and you’re not getting a whole lot of new business in the pipeline.

Polycarp: Okay, but wait a second, hold on here.  I’m the Patron Saint of Earaches.  There’s not a huge market there.

Jesus: I hear what you’re saying, but now that doctors don’t really prescribe antibiotics for infant ear infections anymore, I was hoping you could move into that market..

Polycarp: Yeah, but now they just put tubes in.  They circumvent the entire thing. Medicine, you know? (weak laugh).  It’s… not our friend.

Jesus: Well either way, your rating for the year is “Does not meet expectations”.  Now I appreciate this is hard to hear as it will impact your bonus, but I’d like to discuss strategies –

Polycarp: Woah woah woah, “Does not meet”?  That’s bullshit.  That’s bullshit.

Jesus: Alright settle down there my son.  We can work through-

Polycarp: No, screw this. That’s bullshit.  Do you want me to bend over? Because you’re fucking me.  Should I bend over?  You and the rest of them, you’re fucking me..

Jesus: Let’s tone down the language

Polycarp: This is bullshit. I’m the saint of Earaches. What do you expect? Do you know how fucking bad an earache has to be before you start praying about it?  Even the fucking hardcores don’t bother turning to me and they pray for everything.  To say nothing of the fact that 90% of the time when they do pray they’re going right over my head either to you or the big guy.

Jesus: Yes, and you get the appropriate referral bonus in those circumstances.

Polycarp: Listen, get me out of this. Get me into a territory with teeth and let me show you what I can do.  Make me the Patron Saint of Thieves and Liars.  I could rock that.  Look, I already have some great ideas for how to use “Sex and the City” as a launch point –

Jesus: Not going to happen.

Polycarp: If I could just show you my sketches of Sarah Jessica Parker as a pig / horse –

: Polycarp.  Stop.  It’s not going to happen.  You’re the earache guy.  My go to guy for earaches.  Come up, lighten up.  It was just an off year right?  You’ll recover.

Polycarp: (sullen) Yeah.  Maybe.

Jesus: What about swimming season?  You started to have some positive numbers there, what happened?

Polycarp: Ah, fucking educational programs.   They ruin everything.  People wear earplugs.  You know.

Jesus: Hey big guy – right there. You just said it.

Polycarp: What?  What did I say?

Jesus: Earplugs.  Ear phones.  iPod earphones.  Buddy, I’m doing your job for you, I can’t believe I’m throwing you this solid.

Polycarp: I’m.. not following you Jesus.

Jesus: Those brutal “bud” earphones.  Have you ever used those for any length of time?  They’re like knives, your ears go numb after awhile.  You tell me you can’t move that into some business.  You look me in the face and tell me you can’t set up a meeting with Steve Jobs and fast track this.  Come on.  You rock this ear shit.

Polycarp: Yeah.  Yeah.  You know what?  I just get a couple key players into the room, Jobs owes me after his daughter’s last session with her ear ache.  I think I can swing this.  Those things are like little daggers in your ear.  I put a couple quick spots up on the 700 club and do come kind of “Longview / Lifehouse” tie in and the next thing you know the Jesus Rockers are hailing me as their new God.

Jesus: (laughing) Woah.  Slow down there cowboy.  Thou shalt have no other God before me, you know?  But I like where your head is.  You’re a thought leader.  This was just a bump in the road.  Get outta here you crazy bastard.  Make me proud!

: You just watch Jesus.  I’ll have the kids praying to me while their ears bleed!! (runs out)

(under breath) Dipshit.


Reluctant Batman

March 10, 2009

His Father read stories of The Batman to him, like any good Father should.  He was raised on tales of billionaire ninja orphan crime fighters who wore pajamas and hung around in caves with 10 year old boys.   This was all normal to him.  He knew the stories inside and out – boy sees parents gunned down, boy (rather than devote his billions of dollars to assisting existing, proven crime fighting institutions like the police) decides to take the law into his own hands, boy places too much emphasis on flying rodents.  It was a common tale to him.  The Batman was his hero.

So when his own parents were killed in a bank hostage situation, he knew what he had to do.  Devote his life to beating up criminals and leaving them tied up in front of police stations with clever notes that somehow made a pun out of their crimes (these guys were trying to steal a diamond – I put them “on ice”!)


The problem was he had no real desire to become a crime fighter, or dress up in tights.  Certainly, he was very depressed after losing his parents, but after engaging a very professional therapist (thank you Dr. Carver!) he was able to overcome many of his issues.  He realized that while the individual men who shot his parents were directly responsible, “crime” per se, was not.  Many criminals were in fact victims of demographics.  They were to be pitied and helped through progressive liberal outreach programs!  He volunteered at one!

Nonetheless, he must beat them without mercy.

He lacked many of the advantages that Bruce Wayne had.  Size.  Athletic ability.  Any particular aptitude for anything.  Basic reasoning skills.  Money.  But he couldn’t let these things stand in his way.  He couldn’t let his parents down.

One of his last memories of his Father was (of course) reading a Batman story together.  It was Detective Comics # 275 where Batman becomes a Zebra.  After they finished the thrilling tale, he turned to his Father.  “Where does Batman live Daddy?  Can I meet him?”  His Dad just chuckled.

“Batman is… fiction son.  This – ” he pointed to all the Batman memorabilia in the room “is just for play.  It’s carnival.  You know Batman isn’t real right?”  The boy chuckled and rolled over for sleep.

“Son?” his father wouldn’t stop talking “I’m serious.  Don’t think this is real.  Never try to avenge my death through vigilantism.”

He went to sleep that night feeling safer than he ever had.  Until criminals (well, not criminals exactly according to Dr. Carver.  Republican policies that widen the gap between the rich and poor were to blame.  Whatever) took his parents away. 

Years later, he was ready.  Sort of ready.  He wasn’t really into this exactly, but he did what he had to.  He had spent some time studying martial arts movies while he went to community college.  He watched all the Batman movies over and over again.  They were terrible.  He didn’t have a wise butler, but his wise landlord told him that his pipes were probably clogged because he kept flushing tuna down kitchen sink.  It was a very good point and he took from it what he could.

The first night he went out to face the criminal elements (well, not criminal.  Victims of their own fear as Dr. Carver would go on to say.  Fear of success.   Compelling and rich analysis) dressed in the mantle of his hero.  While he couldn’t afford one of the real batman costumes that were on ebay, he was able to fashion a mask out of old rain boots.  He was ready.

He went to the worst part of town and prowled the streets looking for action in his bat-shaped boot mask.  The denizens of the night did not disappoint and he was very quickly accosted by an unfortunate.

“Gimme your cake” said a transient, waving a switchblade at him.

“Your move punk” the boy said and took a long, overhand swing at the disadvantaged’s head.  He missed by a mile and the economically-challenged stabbed him in the elbow.  The boy cried out in pain and dropped to the pavement.  Dropped just like his parents must have when they were shot for being in the wrong place (in front of those bullets) at the wrong time (when they were fired).

“Father…” he wept up at the uncaring sky as the differently-wealth-distributed gentleman rifled through his pockets.  “Forgive me…”

He went through 2 surgeries to repair his tendons and a further 8 months of physical therapy.  He was laid off from his job at the pizza warehouse as he couldn’t meet the physical demands of the job.  The sacrifice was worth it.

He didn’t ever go back to direct crime fighting, but he felt like with the effort he had made his father proud.  He stopped seeing Dr. Carver and he won his victories against crime where he could.  He didn’t give his change to the homeless anymore and when the policemans association would call for donations, he would only half-heartedly tell them to go fuck themselves.  He was healing.  He was better.

He just wasn’t The Batman.

The one where everyone gets irritated

March 7, 2009

(two guys are sitting at a bar, drunk enough that this conversation could actually happen)

Hort: Was that really Courtney Cox in the Bruce Springsteen video?
Rog: (laughs) Yeah. Weird, huh.
Hort: She looks so young.
Rog: Sure does.  She was awesome in Misfits of Science.
Hort: Hm. Was that the one with Val Kilmer?
Rog: No, I mean the TV show. You’re thinking of Real Genius.
Hort: Isn’t that the one where they brought the chick to life?  Using electricity?
Rog: No, that’s Weird Science.
Hort: I thought that was with Kim Catrell.
Rog: That was the other one when the brought the chick to life.  Mannequin.
Hort: Wait, then what’s the one with Courtney Cox where they bring the robot to life?
Rog: Short Circut? That’s Ally Sheedy not Courtney Cox
Hort: No, it’s Courtney Cox and Aliens come and bring the dead to life.
Rog: That’s Cocoon 2. And it’s not the dead, it’s the elderly. And they don’t bring them to life. AND it’s the original Cocoon that you’re thinking of.
Hort: Starring Ally Sheedy.
Rog: No. I’m not having this conversation anymore.
Hort: Hm. She was on Oprah this week. She was cooking.
Rog: That was RACHEL RAY.
(Long pause)

Hort: We probably shouldn’t talk about anything anymore
Rog: Couldn’t hurt.

Canada vs. the US Part III

March 6, 2009

Part 2
Part 1

Today’s battle: Pink vs. Alanis Morissette

As I haven’t written about female singers before, I want to make sure everything is on the up and up.  I’ve asked my wife to proofread this entire post to ensure that I am not being sexist. It’s important to judge women by the quality of their music and not by how often they flash their boobs on stage, Courtney Love style (WifeNote – This isn’t exactly sexist so much as it is generally insulting. Just saying)

Great commentary!  Let’s get to it!

Pink vs. Alanis

Wikipedia Says:
ha ha ha I will crash and hang your browser!  DLL conflict!

I say
Whether you like Alanis or not, you can’t emphasize strongly enough the importance of Jagged Little Pill.   It sold something like 20 million copies worldwide and demonstrated that chicks (WifeNote – don’t call them chicks) can rock, especially if they’re singing about blowjobs (WifeNote – gross)

Comparing Pink to Alanis is kind of tricky then, because Pink probably wouldn’t have a career without Alanis.  Doesn’t this by default mean Alanis is better?  But to accept that logic, I would have to say that Attack of the Clones is better than Revenge of the Sith because one paved the way for the other.  But really, both are terrible.   (WifeNote – Just going to jump in here.  That is not really a valid comparison.  It barely makes sense)

Pink is a decent artist that originally got put into the Britney / Christina category when really she’s more a Chrissie Hynes kind of gal.   (WifeNote – Sorry, I can’t stop myself.  Don’t compare Pink to Chrissie Hynes.  It’s ridiculous.  Were you drunk when you wrote this?) (TheRogNote – A little!  Also, stick to sexism comments, and don’t tell me how to live) (WifeNote – Somebody should)  (TheRogNote – Okay!  Back to it then!)

Further handicapping any comparison is the fact that I’ve never listened to a Pink CD all the way through, nor have I listened to any Alanis beyond Jagged Little Pill.  This won’t stop me though.  I’m going right to the rankings.

Scoring Categories

Number of CD’s
Pink – Five
Alanis – Seven, but two were before Jagged Little Pill so don’t count.  I’m calling this one even at five a piece

Winner – Tie

Ability to Rock out

I saw Alanis live once and she was pretty dull.  I’m convinced she was drunk  and even a surprise visit by Prince couldn’t save the performance (WifeNote – That wasn’t Alanis, that was Cheryl Crow.  You’re remembering it wrong) (TheRogNote – I’m pretty sure I know the difference between Cheryl Crow and Alanis) (WifeNote – No, it was at Lillithfair.  It was Cheryl Crow.  And she was drunk.  Just score this one for Pink)

Winner – Pink

Hypothetical ability to give monster suckjob (WifeNote – Okay, I’m stepping in right here.  This is definately sexist.  This has nothing to do with their musical ability and is irrelevant to the conversation.  Also, Alanis would win because of her monster horse mouth)

Winner – Alanis

Did they date Ryan Reynolds?
Alanis – Sure fucking did.  Awesome.  If Alanis were here right now, I’d high five her.  You know who Pink dated?  Corey Hart.


On the other hand, not too bad.  He wears his sunglasses, inexplicably, at a time when they’re the most ineffective – night.  That takes balls.   Why not just write a song called “I wear my sunscreen indoors” or “I wear my underwear in the shower”.   I’m sure those were going to be the followups.
(WifeNote – Okay dummy.  A) This entire category is sexist.  B) Pink is married to CARY Hart the BMX rider.   Not COREY Hart the laughable Canadian singer.  C) Ryan Reynolds dumped Alanis’s ass for Scarlett Johansson.  You really need to get Wikipedia working again before you keep writing these dumb comparisons)

Winner – Alanis

Now that we’ve done the detailed run down, the overall winner is… Alanis Morissette.

Hmm.  I’m not sure how I feel about this.  I mean, I don’t really like her music.  I link Pink’s a lot better.  It’s just U and Ur Hand!  Yeah, sing it Pink!  Sing to me about how I can’t score you and I’m going to make love to my own hand in failure at the end of the night!  Nice.

Sadly, I can’t argue with science, and these rankings are so knee-deep in science they look the underground Halogen Collider look like little Billy Mathersons bullshit homemade go kart.  (WifeNote – ???).   Another one is on the books.