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Archive for July, 2009

herbie printHere in he tipsy but not inebriated offices of the Curmudgeon, we are no stranger to hangovers.  Right now, we imagine Lindsay Lohan has a big one.  Firstly, I have often growled to the staff here that “It will be a cold day in hell before we write about Lohan,” so put on your overcoats and mittens as we join Lindsay on her fun-filled career spiral downtown.

Lindsay Lohan - A wreck about to happen.

Lindsay Lohan - A wreck about to happen.

When “The Hangover” script made the rounds in Hollywood, some saw it’s potential as a big film.  Lohan’s agents was one of them, and he campaigned for Lohan to get the role of the stripper ‘Jade’.  “The Hangover” director Todd Phillips was not enthused by the prospect, but the mutual agent, being a good one apparently – down boy, down – didn’t give up.  He hemmed and hawed and cajoled and sent the director a stripper in a cake for all I know, until director Phillips finally agreed.

So, triumphantly, the agent presents the script to Lohan who, full of gratitude for getting her such a great part in such a great film when hardly anybody else will touch her, said to the agent, no.  Whaaaa?????  She didn’t see the film’s potential and she just didn’t like the script.  After all, this was no  Herbie Goes Homo.

Instead Lohan opted to do “Labor Pains,” a straight to DVD dog, while “The Hangover” is a bonerfide boffo box office bonanza.  Probably thanks in large part to Lohan not being in it.  Instead the role went to Heather Graham.  And the Curmudgeon loves him some Heather Graham crackers.

We like Heather Graham crackers!

We like Heather Graham crackers!

I am happy to see Lohan fading away.  I’m sick of her dramatics.  Graham on the other hand, is a delight in every way.  She is so special I think she was made by Keebler elves.

To further view Lohan’s drive into oblivion, check out her movie next summer:  Herbie Goes To Hell in a Handbasket.

(With apologies for use of “Homo.”  I, in no way, mean to disparage homosexuals.  People should be free to make their own choices.  Long live tolerance!)

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The Lollipop League Harry Doll, Jerry Maren, and Jackie Gerlich / MGM photo

The Lollipop League Harry Doll, Jerry Maren, and Jackie Gerlich / MGM photo

Here in the full-sized offices of The Curmudgeon, we think that various groups who “demand” they are referred to as this or that, or that a particular word is never used, are quite often overly sensitive.  Such is the case with little people and their recent cry to the FCC asking them to ban the use of the word “midget.”

What particularly outraged the wee little things was an episode of The Apprentice in which a contestant proposed that in an advertisement for detergent, midgets would be bathed in the detergent and then hung up to dry.  They were offended.  Actually, I agree with them that it was offensive, but it wasn’t the use of the word “midget,” but rather hanging them on a clothesline that crossed the line.  There’s a lot of that stuff on television, but while we are hearing from a group called “The Little People of America,” we are not hearing from the tiny folk who get these jobs.  Maybe they are happy for the work and it’s okie doke with them.

To be honest, I have never found midgets particularly funny, either the people or the name, and do in fact think that many of the things for which the miniature men have been employed are in very poor taste.  Midget tossing contests comes to mind, the bar craze that went around several years ago.  I felt so strongly about it that I canceled a television show I was producing at the time called “Bowling With Midgets.”  But again, the offense was in the activity, not the name.

So little people, I say chill out.  Of course I’m sure many of you don’t agree with me and would gnaw my ankles if you had the chance, but am I guilty if I don’t think you’re funny, but rather real people with real feeling just like me?  No.  I don’t think so.  Embrace the word “midget.”  It’s your very own word and it’s been around since 1865, and not all of you have embraced your agenda.  Actor Herve “The plane, The plane” Villechaize insisted on being called a “midget” as opposed to a “little person.”

So mix yourself a cocktail in a Smuckers jar and relax.

Let’s end the depictions, but long live the word.

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Bet they wouldn't have forgotten to get gas if they were working.

Bet they wouldn't have forgotten to get gas if these gals were working.

Here in the Curmudgeon offices, we have good days and bad days.  This is true of everybody, everywhere, pretty much, and as is often the case, the littlest thing can come along and perk us right up.  Lift our spirits.   Put a smile on our faces.  Stop and smell the roses.  Walk on the sunny side of the street, and other assorted “feel good” axioms.  For me, nothing gets the wrinkles out of my morning like a good bit of irony.

Todays irony comes courtesy of 29 year-old Lonnie Meckwood and 51 year-old Phillip Weeks, of Tunkhannock, NY.  The AP reports that these two ruffians used a knife to rob a clerk at a Convenience store/gas station.  While the clerk wasn’t hurt, you can bet he was s**tting his pants, what with the knife poised and ready to stab him in his gizzard.

The clerk called the cops, as clerks who have been threatened with a gizzard stabbing will do, and the cops were on the case…for a couple of minutes.  They found the ersatz Bennie and Clyde about a mile away…their car on the side of the road.  They had run out of gas just after robbing a gas station.  Did they think they could get a better price somewhere else?

There is no shortage of stupid crooks.  You have the TV shows “America’s Dumbest Criminals,” “Ridiculous Robbers,” “Moronic Muggars,” “Stupid Shit Lawbreakers,” “Thilly Thieves,” and “Wascally Wabbits.”  The lesson they teach is, even if you’re a crook, you can’t get away with “stupid.”

I could have gone with the story of the burglar who used the victims cell phone to make a call…and accidentally took a picture of himself, then left the camera behind, but it was the irony of this story that convinced me.  Well, I’ve eaten a full breakfast and am ready to face the day.

The irony was delicious.

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rough-house-rosie-full

Here in the swank digs of The Curmudgeon, some of the staff members admit to enjoying sex that is…um…shall we say, exuberant.  Such was the case in Torrington, Connecticut when a teenage girl overheard her mother’s screams during sex, thought she was being assaulted, rounded up some of her friends, and beat the dickens out of him with a baseball bat and their fists.

The mother denies this account, stating that she wasn’t screaming and it must have been slaps that the daughter heard.  Curiouser and curiouser.  So….what?  Rough sex?  Who was slapping who and where were they being slapped?  On the face?  On the buttocks?  Cause slapping the face is a whole different porn film from the slapping on the buttocks one.

Unfortunately, the guy didn’t even have time to explain himself, and he was treated for a black eye and assorted bruises and 4 of the teens were arrested and charged with assault.  There’s something fishy going on here.  At least one mystery has been solved: the mystery of why the woman hasn’t been laid in 3 years.  When lovemaking (and I use the term loosely) culminates with being beaten by an angry mob of teens swinging bats, well, let me say from personal experience, that makes a fella think twice.  I have an important question though: is that before or after orgasm?

Like I said, there’s something we’re not being told and a judge has sealed the record.  The Curmudgeon must get to her bottom…er….THE bottom of this, so stay tuned.  I will watch this story throughout the day and bring you updates as they are released by the coppers.

And ladies, I end with this word of advice:  Save the beating for the third date.  You wouldn’t want the guy thinking you are a masochist or something.

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fireplace-01

Here in my opulent office in the sprawling world headquarters of The Crusty Curmudgeon on the coast of Maui (yes, we’ve moved), I can look out my picture window and see the dolphins playing in the lagoon.  On the wall is my 108 inch flat screen TV so I can see each and every flaw on the faces of your favorite stars.  It’s one of those “Mine is bigger than yours” things.  Right now, however, the TV is the source of my extreme consternation.

Hot off the wire is this AP story about televisions suddenly igniting in Zurich Switzerland.  This is frightening, and certainly my rather large, too-bad-I-don’t-have-a-penis television would make a flame that would be the envy of Hades.

Early this morning, and elderly woman called police and firefighters to report that her television set was burning.   Cruisers were dispatched.  Sirens sounded and the fire engines roared to life and rushed to the scene of the conflagration.

Upon arriving at the scene, they found no signs of smoke, but the television did appear to be burning.  It was a flame like they had never seen before, and clearly it would call for some different way to extinguish it, not the normal method by water hose or shooting fire-smothering chemicals at it from an extinguisher.    One firefighter had an idea brilliant in it’s simplicity:   He changed the channel.  That’s right, he switched the channel and the fire was gone.

The Dear had tuned the TV to a German station that in the early morning hours aired the constant image of a burning fireplace.

And that’s my cute story for the week.  Have a happy 4th of July, and try not to start any fires…imaginary or otherwise.

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