Archive for March, 2009

Cosmic Hand (by h.koppdelaney - flickr)

Cosmic Hand (by h.koppdelaney - flickr)

Here in the heavenly but not necessarily empyrean offices of The Crusty Curmudgeon, I stand (or sit, actually) before you, humbled if not exactly compunctious.  I am abashed and I do not like feeling abashed.  No, I like feeling smug and superior.  I mean, who doesn’t?  I wear smugness like a warm blanket on a cabin-chilly morning.  You are asking, “Crusty,” you say, “why are you, one who is almost always correct, feeling contrite?”  It is this:  Simply put, I have long been a naysayer of the alleged mysticism of  Astrology and now I am a believer.  (Ouch!  That hurt!)

I was never a total disbeliever in astrology, just a skeptic.  After all, there is such a thing as planetary movement, tides, strange human behavior, and a myriad of other unexplained phenomena.  Not to mention the belief in Astrology by many famous and powerful people throughout the history of the world.

Famous Followers of the Planetary Arts

Many of the rich, famous, and powerful have believed in Astrology and put it to use.  These include Plato, Albert Einstein, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Robert Heinlein, Hippocrates,  DH Lawrence, Louis Pasteur, and even Benjamin Franklin, who included Astrology in his Poor Richard Almanacs.

Henry V always had court astrologers who, if they predicted the King would sire a girl, were beheaded. Naturally, the Astrologers learned to always say the child would be a boy and if it turned out to be a girl, they were beheaded anyway.  Tough gig.  Heads did roll.  Upon hearing that Hitler employed the use of Astrologers, Winston Churchill employed one as well.  Shakespeare drew greatly on Astrology in his plays. “He would put astrological knowledge and belief into his strongest and most capable heroes and heroines, and astrological ignorance and disdain into his most devious and reviled villains.” (theastrologyroom.com).

Astrology Smacks My Gob

So, what changed my mind?  Simple.  I got a reading.  A real one from a real Astrologer, and I was amazed at its accuracy.  Stunned, really.  Gobsmacked.  It contained such depth and knowledge that I was blown into the heavens.  Not only did I get a one on one, 2 hour consultation, but a lengthy and informative chart and an analysis.  There was not one item I could deny, and it was not general either.  Very specific, and taken all together, very specific to me and me alone.  Another great thing about it was that it offered ideas on things that could develop into problems or things you should focus on for self-improvement.  Again, I found everything was on the money.

The good news is that all this – the 2 hour, one-on-one consultation; the lengthy and in-depth chart; and the personal analysis of it – cost a mere 140 Australian dollars (97.94 US dollars; 68.55 British pounds).  Even better news is you can avail yourself of my very Astrologer’s services as well.  This is surely the deal of the century thanks to the weak Australian dollar.

Let Astrology Gob Smack You

If you are interested (and you should be) I urge you to contact Julie Braden.  Please write to her at julesb555@yahoo.com. Tell her  The Crusty Curmudgeon sent you.  You wont regret it.  The initial 2 hour interview and reading is conducted via Skype, so there are no phone charges.  If you don’t have Skype, it is simple and free to set up and use to call people all over the world.  For an overview of Skype, go here.

Do this.  You owe it to your career, your business, your relationships, and yourself.  Mostly perhaps, you owe it to your future.  Don’t get me wrong.  You’re not going to be told if you’re going to get married this year or that you will meet a tall, dark handsome stranger.  I said Julie’s a real Astrologer.  If you want that kind of Astrology, read the paper or go down to the strip and hand your 50 bucks to the gypsy lady with the neon sign in her window.  This is the real stuff…not predictions.  It’s beautiful up here…in the heavens.  Join me.

(Photo Credit: “Cosmic Hand”, h.koppdelaney, flickr, http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=Astrology&l=cc&ct=0&page=2)

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Here in the Curmudgeon Offices, we are intelligent but not eggheaded.  That doesn’t mean we aren’t impressed by eggheads, whether hard-boiled, poached, scrambled, or fried.  And so it is that I admire the Nerd Girls.  Both the real ones and the representative ones –  like the one in the picture above – who is probably only dressed up like a nerd girl because it turns us on.  Us being men.  Wherever there is a major development  in women’s culture, particularly their style of dress or looks, you can bet the exploiters are not far behind.
But Nerd Girls are real.  No longer willing to become pseudo-men in order to compete in the traditionally male fields of science and technology, the new nerd girl not only wears her smarts proudly, but shouts from atop her neutron generator, “I am woman and I am sexy.”  That translates to “sexy woman” and that is A-OK with me.  Throw in a brain and it’s the delicious icing on a luxurious cake.

They also offer encouragement and support to girls throughout the world to study science and technology in school, since a gifted woman can be as good (or better) as anyone.  It doesn’t hurt their popularity that Nerd Girls have entered the mainstream culture.  Think Tina Fey.  And they are organized.  The organization Nerd Girls was founded in 2000 by a professor of electrical and computer engineering at Tufts University, Dr. Karen Panetta, who partnered with two female documentarians to expand the Nerd Girls media presence and global expansion.

In addition, their website is an international community supporting the Nerd Girls agenda with forums, mentorship, networking, and a host of other services to help the girls themselves or their parents, young professionals, and anyone else who wish to inspire their budding Nerd Girl.
Perhaps most refreshingly, they shunt aside any criticism that photos of the Nerd Girls looking attractive and, yes, even sexy in high heels and makeup undoes decades of feminism.  Aww, give me a break.  That kind of feminism went out a long time ago.  The Nerd Girls website concurs, “No. Just the opposite. The most damaging thing for women is to compartmentalize and limit themselves. We are by nature complex and, after decades of trying to be more “male,” the new generation of women is comfortable in embracing all aspects of who they are and celebrating it.  Just as feminists did in the 1960s, we feel it is healthy to explore new sociological models, debunk stereotypes and continue to expand our horizons as a society.”  You’ll even see the motto on tee shirts, “Talk Nerdy to me.”

I am asked if my interest in Nerd Girls is really an altruistic one, or is it simply because I am a pervert.  I can answer that with a most definite…yes and no.  Truth is, I consider it my job to keep abreast of new fads as they affect culture and/or the Internet.  I have found that if you find out what the girls are up to, you will also find out what the boys are up to, and this in turn can give you some insight into where we, as a society, are headed.  Plus, I am a pervert, and I enjoy looking at pictures of pretty girls in various stages of undress.  Of course, this is not really a perversion, but simply the common interest of a healthy male.

So are these pictures of real Nerd Girls?   Mmm…Probably not.  But the United States is far behind the Japanese in objectifying the sexy Nerd Girl image.  Consider anime.  Those cartoons are chock full of Nerd Girl imagery, and the Nerd Girl and Japanese sensibilities fit together like, well, like a man and woman fit together.  These girls just happen to be wearing glasses, and they are as sexy as all get out.  I don’t have a problem with that.  Do you?

So the next time you see an attractive female wearing spectacles,  remember she is not a 4 eyes.  She is 4 intelligence.  She is 4 sensuality.  She is 4 me.


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"Dancing Man" quinn.anya/flickr

"Dancing Man" quinn.anya/flickr

It’s a different kind of day here in The Curmudgeon Offices, as, for a change, we are reporting on a happy story.  That’s instead of my normal negativity and cynical observations and thinly veiled sexual references.  Today, we are celebrating The Dancing Man.  First we walked the walk, then talked the talk, and now we are dancing the dance.  And it is a delightful, goofy dance.

Do you know about The Dancing Man?  It’s a guy named Matt Harding, who, in his own words, “used to think that all he ever wanted to do in life was make and play video games.”  Growing bored with that, he quit his job and went to Asia to wander around until his carefully saved funds wore out.  After a few months in Asia, his travel buddy asked him to do that silly dance that he often did while the friend taped it.  They made a little video of it and posted it on youtube.

The video sat on youtube for a couple of years until someone stumbled on it, thought it was funny and passed it around.  Those people passed it around to more people who passed it around until someone at Stride gum saw it and went to Matt with a proposition.  “Why don’t you let us sponsor your next trip as you dance around the world?”  No reason, no reason at all, and now the gum people have paid for a couple of his trips where he tapes himself doing the goofy dance along with the locals.

It’s odd.  It’s such a simple thing that seems to say so much about culture, friendship (or not), and brotherhood among nations that it takes on both a joyous and bittersweet feeling.  There is just something about seeing this guy dancing his spastic dance at breathtaking locations around the world with the locals joining in with their imitations of the goofy Matt dance, that we have to sit back and ask ourselves, “how much do we really know about our world neighbors?.  It will make you smile, laugh, and feel a little unexplainable sadness.

Take a look at it.  It is short and captivating.  I called a full-staff meeting this morning and showed everyone the video, and then I did the dance for them.  They loved it of course, to see the big boss being so silly, but they wanted to do the dance too.  And they did.  Everyone has been smiling around here all day, and I think we may have gotten more accomplished than ever before.  People spasmodically dancing up and down the halls, from office to office, and even in the meeting with the Chamber of Commerce.  Everyone was dancing.  They are dancing still.

For more information on where the hell is Matt, visit his website here.

My writer friend Denny Lyon has published a great article about this sort of thing.  There’s lots of great videos, and you simply have to check the “‘Freeze” at Grand Central, where hundreds of people freeze simultaneously for 3 minutes, and especially the big choreographed dance at Liverpool station with a cast of hundreds.  Fabulous!  Check it out here!

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Mahakala omnogovae

Mahakala omnogovae

Here in the old-fashioned but not prehistoric offices of The Curmudgeon, we have been following the story of the new tiny dinosaur discovery.  Mainly, we’ve just been waiting for them to come up with a name for the tiny terrors before rushing to press.  They have finally tagged the miniature meat-eaters as Hesperonychus elizabethae, or Mahakala omnogovae for a moniker, but that’s just as hard to say as the scientific name so we’ll just call ’em MO.

MO is a relative of Velociraptor, the drool-dripping, razor-clawed dinosaur who scared us out of our petrified shorts in Jurassic park, barelly a meager 2 feet long (70 centimeters) and weighing about the same as two cans of Mountain Dew.  Unearthed in the Southern Gobi Desert, the little darlings lived during the Cretaceous, between 146 and 65 million ago.  Imagine a herd of the little buggars – not that  there is any evidence of dinosaur buggary – going after prey like a school of piranha.  Now imagine yourself as the prey.  Now imagine Rosie O’Donnell.  Now that’s scary.  Now imagine Rosie being eaten by the dinosaurs.  Double scary.

That’s what I did, and it occurred to me that this would make a nice little horror film, except for the Rosie part, not because I don’t want to see Rosie be eaten by a pack of chomping chubby chasers, but because it wouldn’t be real, and since it wasn’t real, I would be disappointed.   Tragically disappointed.  Which took me to who should they eat in the movie?  Because movies are dependent on box office, and pretty girls are good box office, it follows that the carnivorous critters should eat a pretty girl…or two.

My vote goes to Nicole Kidman.  Or Halle Berry.  Or Charlize Theron.  Now there’s three ladies who look good enough to eat.  I would like to eat them.  Mmmmm, tasty.  Oh I’d eat ’em and I’d eat ’em good, not because I don’t like them, but because I love them.  Now they may not be to your liking.  That’s ok.  You can have your fantasies and I’ll keep mine.

That’s about all I have to say about the smallest dinosaur ever discovered.  If there are any additions to the story – any new information – I’ll tell you about it.  Heck, maybe they’ll even find some smaller ones some day.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a film script to write.  I wonder if Sandra Bullock is available?

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depravity-music2As I sit here in the lemony fresh offices of The Curmudgeon (the cleaning lady was in today) I am dejected but not morose.   As you know, I have been writing about Internet memes lately, and a few days ago I came across the most horrible, disgusting, depressing, most likely to “cause you to weep for the state of the human race” Internet meme ever.   I knew this stuff existed, but I never thought I’d be writing about it, and frankly, it depresses me.

I am speaking of 2 Girls and 1 Cup.  It became a meme, and then a rash of reaction video’s were made of people reacting to the video, mainly Grandma’s for chrissake, and those videos became a meme by themselves.  If I was going to write about it, I should watch it, yes?  Although the site on which I read about it did not post the video or a link to it, it wasn’t hard to find, thanks to our quirky and contradictory friends over at Google.  So I googled it, went to a site where the video was posted, and after reading the description of what I was about to see, refused to watch it.  Wouldn’t, couldn’t, didn’t.

But then it ate at me.  It niggled.  Was I not a newsman?  Ever since I was left as a foundling on the steps of Hearst Castle in San Simeon, taken in by the great man himself, and raised by a succession of French, British and Swiss Nannies, which is probably why I have a thing for foreign chicks and their accents, I have lived, eaten and breathed newsman.  In a pinch, a southern, Boston or New York accent will do.  Rosebud or no, Papa, or Big Willie as he liked to be called, raised me to be a newsman.  I would watch the video, damn it!  Though it make me sick, I will watch and report.

As it turns out, the video can no longer be seen, the government getting in on the act with enough force that everyone disabled the video.  Oh, you might be able to find it somewhere, deep in the bowels (pun intended) of the cesspool, but for once, I agreed with the government, and I haven’t even seen it.  Wow.  An example of good censorship.  The first amendment and freedom of speech doesn’t apply, at least not for me, normally a militant  advocate.  Who’d a thunk it?

Likewise, I have aggravated over whether to even describe what is contained in said video.  I will try to do it in a non-offensive way, but alas, I don’t think that’s possible.  I’ll try to be obtuse.  Still, you may not want to read it if you are of delicate mind or sensibilities, or are about to eat.

Ok.  Remember that everything is explicit and nothing is left to the imagination.  It starts with 2 girls and 1 cup.  One of the girls poo-poos into the cup.  Then the girls do things with it that we normally associate with love making, like kissing.  They get sick, but they don’t stop, instead using this new effluent as well.  Why did I decide I must watch it?  Because I wanted  to look into their eyes.  I hoped that by doing so I could answer one question:


Oh God why, why why?  Were they being forced?  Were they so desperate for money that they would engage in this behavior for a little cash?  Were they sickly drug addicts who needed a fix so bad that they would do the most disgusting thing that could be conjured by a diseased mind?  Please, somebody clean these girls up, give them some toothpaste and fix their heads.  As my regular readers know, I am not, inherently, against pornography.  But this?  It’s not really even porn, and yet it is, because there are people who “get off” on watching stuff like this.  Which brings me to the next question.

Why did so many people view this horrid thing that it became a meme in the first place?  Is it just because it is so disgusting that it became popular simply as something to show to unwitting people to catch their reactions on video, many of whom throw up themselves?  When birds regurgitate into their offspring’s mouths to provide them nourishment, that is nature.  This is not nature, but a gross perversion of it.

I have included one of the more popular reaction video, but why someone would do that to their grandmother is beyond me as well.  It can give you an idea of what watching it might be like, and it is pretty funny even without having seen the actual video.

To sum it up in one word:  “Depravity.”  That’s what it is…depravity.

2 Girls 1 Cup Reaction Video – Grandma Marlene

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The Accidental Tourist.  The photo that started it all.

The Accidental Tourist. The photo that started it all.

Here in the animated but not photoshopped offices of Curmudgeon, I have been checking up on past and current Internet memes.  For those that don’t know, a meme (pronounced meem) is something – a saying, an image, a recording, whatever – that catches people’s fancy and spreads like a virus, in this case on the Internet, which is what makes it an Internet meme.

At the Concorde crash.

At the Concorde crash.

So I came across the info that The 911 Tourist Guy’s real name is now known to the masses.  I’m not sure where I was when this information came out.  It was probably when I was living in a beach house on the native side of Freeport, Bahamas, fishing from my boat and drinking at the Conch Cafe, right on the ocean, no walls, wicker ceiling fans, the works, a place Hemingway would have loved.  Anyway, the start of  The Tourist Guy meme was that picture you see right up top, a man, supposedly a tourist, snapped atop the World Trade Center seconds before the plane hit.

It was sent around by email with this touching note:

“Fw: Different Perspective on the New York Tragedy

At the Hindenberg

At the Hindenberg

Attached is a picture that was taken of a tourist atop the World Trade Center Tower, the first to be struck by a terrorist attack. This camera was found but the subject in the picture had not yet been located.

Makes you see things from a very different position. Please share this and find any way you can to help Americans not to be victims in the future of such cowardly attacks.”

Almost immediately, Snopes pronounced the whole thing an Internet hoax while the Internet pronounced it funny.  So the clones began, many of which are posted here and some of which are actually funny and clever.

It has long been our way – us humans that is, I can’t speak for you – to cope with tragedy by making  jokes, and these are no different.  People need to laugh after something like that.  Laughter is a great medicine.  Laughter cures hurt.

At the Titanic.

At the Titanic.

It wasn’t long before the first poseur stepped forward.  He had no evidence.  Couldn’t produce the original photo.  He was pronounced a fraud by whoever pronounces these people frauds.  Soon after, another man was fingered by his friends, and he had the evidence.  He was a  Hungarian named Peter (last name withheld.)   He didn’t want people to misunderstand him, he said.  Didn’t  know it would become so popular, he said.   Didn’t know he would obtain Internet infamy, he said.

At last it can be told:  His name is Peter Guzli, a 25 year old guy living in Hungary, still trying to cope with his unexpected fame.  How’s that infamy thing going for you, Peter?

Next time, I’m going to write about the disgusting meme, Two Girls and a Cup.  YOU DON’T WANT TO READ IT!

At Godzilla's rampage.

At Godzilla's rampage.

At the assassination of John. F. Kennedy.

At the assassination of John. F. Kennedy.

At the blowing up of the White House - Independence Day.

At the blowing up of the White House - Independence Day.

At the assassination of Lincoln.

At the assassination of Lincoln.

At the eruption of Mount St. Helens

At the eruption of Mount St. Helens

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Huggy Rugby.  These guys are sexually confused.

Huggy Rugby. These guys are sexually confused.

Here in the offices of The Curmudgeon, the men dress fashionably but not effete.  I am considered fashionable only because the fashion industry has caught up to me, with my casually rumpled shirt and course jacket, no tie and shoes that are comfortable and cool.  I have always thought that people who are slaves to fashion – male or female – are misguided puppets who do what the fashionistas tell them only because the fashionistas want you to give them your money.  And lot’s of it.  That’s the only reason the fashion changes from year to year…so you’ll have to buy more stuff.

Think about it.  Am I wrong?  No.  I am not.  The fashion people and the advertisers have been suckering women ever since Eve put a fig leaf in front of her cootchie, but advertisers really hit pay dirt, really superseded every scam ever perpetrated, when they invented metrosexuals.  They got men to spend a fortune on beauty products and clothes just like the ladies do.

I have received many letters from faithful readers who have exclaimed, “Please help me, Mr. Curmudgeon.  I am buying beauty products just like the ladies do.”  Well I’m happy to say that I will help.  I will cure you of this metrosexual brainwashing which has gripped you in its steely maws of foppishness.  So read, pay attention, and learn, Grasshopper.

Question: Dear Curmudgeon.  My girlfriend complained about my beard hurting her face.  I bought a faux-ivory razor by D.R. Harris & Co. for $99.00 for a really close shave, but my girlfriend still complains.  What should I do?

The Curmudgeon: You paid how much for what?  $99 bucks for a faux-ivory razor?  Woah.  How’s this: Schick Quatro Titanium Razor & Cartridges $9.49.  This has four blades made from real Titanium—not faux—thank you very much.  Oh, brush your teeth and gargle.  It’s your breath, dude.

Question: I needed a really close shave, so I bought a badger-bristle shaving brush by Czech & Speake for $84.00.  Did I do good?

The Curmudgeon: No.  You did stupid.  Badgers?  We don’t need no stinkin’ Badgers.  You should have bought a Van Der Hagen natural shave brush for $7.49.  It’s natural too and it works great.  Better than the hair off some Badger’s ass.

Question: I find that the shaving cream is really important to my shaving, so I use Luxe Formula shaving cream by Fresh for $18.00.  That’s good, right?

The Curmudgeon: That’s good, wrong.  Look Mamma’s boy, read my lips:  Barbasol 2 for $3.00.  It was good enough for your father and his father before him.  Plus they used to put up all those cool signs along the lonely highways.  That’s tradition, Dude.

Question: Hi Crusty.  I like to put a good exclamation point on a shave, so I use Baldessarini Del Mar Aftershave by Hugo Boss at $49.00 a bottle.

The Curmudgeon: That’s Mr. Crusty to you.  Slap a little Skin Bracer on your face, Bucko.  It stings like it’s supposed to.  Panty waist!

Question: I know you’re down on men’s grooming products, but I have sensitive skin and use Razor Burn Relief Plus by Lab Series for Men for $25.00.

The Curmudgeon:
OK, but you don’t have to be a sissy about it. This stuff doesn’t sting, it’s been around since forever, and it smells great.  Plus it’s got the word “virgin” in it:  Clubman Virgin Islands Bay Rum $6.79 .

Question: I use Rush Cologne by Gucci for $40.00.  You don’t have a problem with cologne, do you?

The CurmudgeonNo, I only have a problem with you.  Ask yourself, “What would Steve McQueen use?”  Old Spice Original, $11.99.

Question: A real man wants a deodorant when engaging in various manly pursuits like rugby.  Contradiction by Calvin Klein works great for only $14.00.

The Curmudgeon: You mean “Huggy Rugby” like that picture up there?  We’re not just talking about sitting around in your tighty whities here.  All  I have to say is Original Speed Stick by Mennen – $2.99.

Question: Damn! You’re hard to please.  How about Acqua di Colonia Soap by Rance – $11.99.

The Curmudgeon: How about the Original Ivory Soap.  No additives.  Just soap.  The next time you’re camping in the wild, you can use this stuff right in the river and it won’t hurt the trout you’re going to catch later for dinner. Plus, it’s the only soap that floats. Now that’s cool.

Question: But I like my soap to really foam and lather up.

The Curmudgeon: Listen up, nancy boy. This stuff lathers up good and smells great, like fresh cut grass. Manly, yes, but she likes it too.  Irish Spring Green Deodorant Soap $2.79

Question: Guys have to cut their nails just like the ladies so I use the clippers, tweezers and nail scissors by Erbe $149.00.

The Curmudgeon: Yeah, but what color nail polish do you use?   Listen, Ru Paul, These come in a leather case. 7 stainless steel tools and 1 of them is a 3 in 1 utility knife. Nuff said. – Red Men’s 7 Piece Grooming Kit $8.99

Well, class, I hope I’ve managed to help you break the metrosexual destructive spiral you’ve found yourself in.  Your personal hygiene needn’t suffer.  You can get the products you need at a fraction of the cost.  All of my recommendations are available at Walgreens, by the way, who are not paying me but should be.  Class dismissed, and lose the bottled energy water and buy yourself a nice Brita water filter.

(For more information on metrosexuals, including a great quiz to determine if you are one, go here.)

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Oh…Hello.  Here in the tasteful offices of The Curmudgeon, I am feeling slightly perverted but not depraved.   I have been doing research on “Scene Girls” – that’s right, I said research – and…well, I feel a bit like a dirty old man.  Of course I am a dirty old man but I don’t want to feel that way.

If you don’t know what a “scene girl” is, relax, nobody really seems to know, but I’ll take a poke at them as best I can.  First came the emo girl.  Emo is short for “emotive” or “emotional,” and so they were, as they were depressed people who affected a gothy look with their (usually) raven hair pulled severely over their eyes, wore black framed glasses, and were “cutters”, that is, they cut themselves with razor blades.  Hmmm.  Charmed, I’m sure.
But the emo girls went by the wayside and in their place, the cutie-pie “scene girls” have risen.  They wear multi-colorful clothing.  Their hair is colorful too, and is usually chopped on top and the bigger the better.  They are all about diamonds, cute clips in their hair, bats, grillz, hello kitty, gloomy bear, and whoring in the non-sexual sense (I think.).  And they’ve got to have profiles on the social networks – MySpace, Facebook, Nexopia, Tagged and Bebo.

To put it in the words of a semi-scene girl: “There’s a really thin line between emo kids and scene kids. They’re both kind of over dramatic teenage kids who listen to mainstream generic pop music [which almost always sucks]. Scene kids are a more recent phenomenon and are known for being obsessed with gimmicky retro stuff like pokemon and dinosaurs. They take arty photos of themselves [and post them] on myspace and try to get a lot of friends and really crave attention.

The main difference is one’s happy the other’s not. And Scene people are all about the “scene” and go to shows and stuff.

Indeed, and now they’re taking their clothes off, and the more they do, the more they become idolized.  Now, is it just me, or do these girls look young?  Really, really young?  It’s hypothesized that the hormones we are giving to our cattle is causing big changes in young women.  Really big changes.  Baby faces with women’s bodies.  As reported in the Canadian Press Ottawa:
“Consumption of hormone-treated beef may be causing girls to reach puberty earlier than they used to.  It is “very likely” that hormone residues in North American beef is a factor in the early onset of puberty among girls in recent decades,” said Carlos Sonnenschein of the Tufts University School of Medicine at Boston.  “There is no other reason to explain it.   Pediatricians say the onset of menstruation has steadily decreased in recent decades.  The average age for a first period is now 12½, up from age 14 in 1900.”

I believe it.  I only have to look at these pictures, and then look at them again, and then look some more, to know that this is true.  I like what I see, because…well, we’ve been through that already, but I can’t help but think there is something inherently wrong with this set up.  We’re breeding an army of little Lolita’s.  It would make a good science fiction film, except it’s not science fiction anymore.  “Beam me up, Scottie.  Uh…I mean…wait a few minutes and then beam me up.”

I hope I’ve been able to answer your questions about “scene girls.”  Are there any questions?  No?   Good.  Now stop interrupting my research!

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Here in the satirical but not derisive offices of The Curmudgeon, I am tickled orange at the new Simpsons milestone.  Woo-hoo! By getting renewed by Fox for another 2 seasons,  The Simpsons will surpass Gunsmoke as TV’s longest running prime-time drama.  Gunsmoke, with their 20 year run, ended in 1975 and has held the record since.  The Simpsons, currently in their 20th season, will go on to at least do their 21st and 22nd.  And they don’t even have that “do-able” Miss Kitty.
It should probably be noted here that that still doesn’t even come close to the number of Gunsmoke episodes, which was an astounding 635 compared to The Simpsons paltry 493.  Like baseball pitchers, people today just don’t work as hard as they did back in the good old days when things were done for the love of it and money came second.  And like ball players, actors salaries have skyrocketed too.  The main characters on The Simpsons will now earn Mr. Burns type money of $400,000 per episode.  That’s enough to turn Homer’s “D’oh” into Dough!  I would even marry one of Marge’s sisters for that kind of green.

I, for one, think the Simpsons is brilliant, especially in the earlier years, and I am not alone:  It is broadcast in over 60 countries, won 24 Emmy’s, a Peabody, and lots of other stuff.  The writing, sparkling and packed with innuendo and inside jokes (show-biz people love it) has a knack for satirizing human foibles, and the genius Danny Elfman’s theme song is easily the best TV theme music ever (my opinion).

There have been protests along the way.  Anytime there is a cultural phenomena and it’s on television, you’re going to get your whiners trying to draw attention to themselves and their wacky cause.  Last Sunday’s episode was no exception.  Nelson, the big bully on the playground, said to Milhouse, “That’s so gay.”  Uh-oh.  Lookout.  Here come the support-me-and-support-my-cause commando’s.  Tiptoeing from the tulips on this one is the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network.  Seems that such humorous slogans are bad for gay people since it uses “gay” as a general taunt.  Speaking out in support of GLSEN (ThinkB4YouSpeak.com) comes comedian Wanda Sykes (gay) and Hilary Duff (don’t know hope not).  Spokesman Daryl Presgraves said, “Many people say gay without even realizing what they’re saying is bad.”  Come on, Presgraves,  It’s not bad…it’s funny.  You’re soooo gay!

I wish they’d complain about me.  I could sure use the publicity, even gay publicity.  Before anyone sends me any nasty letters threatening me to grow a mustache or else, let me say, I have been in professional theatre – and show business in general – since I was 16, a very long time ago.  Some of my best friends really are gay.  Besides, you really can’t win that argument.  I suspect you know this.  If you call me a homophobe, I’ll call you a homoprobe.  Ha, ha.  Now, that’s gay!  For a funny look at the opening for The Simpsons in India,  please see the video below.

The Simpsons won’t change or become more politically correct anytime soon, so pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and hit the yellow brick road.  When are the gays going to stop getting bent over…uh…bent out of shape over a little funny joke?

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