This Week in Rage – 5/26/13
This Week in Rage, a blog about the top three things that pissed me off this week:
Vegetarians: I was recently at a shitty house in Covina shooting my Spike TV pilot, which is really one of the only reasons anyone would be in Covina. We were breaking for lunch and someone had run to the Quiznos to grab food for the crew. He got the usual suspects – I think it was roast beef and turkey club. But among them was the box of veggie sandwiches. A whole box of vegetarian subs. A veggie sub is somehow worse than just vegetables thrown on the floor. It’s some wilted lettuce and a bell pepper in stale bread with some mayonnaise slathered on it. But here’s the point – even though way less than 2% of the crew were vegetarians, 33% of the sandwiches were. Here’s the thing with vegetarians – they’re not vegetarians because they love cows and pigs, it’s because they hate food. They just don’t love to eat like us normal folk. And of course what happens? The turkey and the roast beef get devoured immediately and were left with a dozen veggie subs. Actually maybe there was one missing, I assume from the nutty make-up chick. Either way here’s the new world order: if you’re Muslim or Kosher or on a special pineapple diet you have to bring your own shit to the goddamn set. We’re going on a sandwich run; we’re getting meat and bread. That’s what a sandwich is; meat SANDWICHED in between two pieces of bread. We could possibly consider a grilled cheese in the mix, if you’ve been good. But we’re not going to get an extra box of crap just because your skinny vegan ass hates food and your step-dad who I assume molested you and then enjoyed a nice T-bone steak, thus your aversion. I think we need to start tagging these vegetarians and track them. When they show up to the job site they get handed a green beanie. Then if they get out of line and start making lunch demands they’re going to be put on an island where eventually they would start eating meat – each other’s flesh!
The New LA Mayor: I’ve got a major goal for the new mayor’s first term. But let me quickly say adios to Tony Villar. I’m sad to see him go but I’m happy he’ll be able to get back to his first love – failing the bar. He failed the bar exam four times. It’s like Kobe Bryant with the five title rings; perhaps Villar-retardo is going for one failure for each finger. But back to the priorities for Eric Garcetti’s first term. I just heard our fair city is last in traffic management (no surprise there) but first in dogs biting postal workers. And that’s not just on their route, in the more “urban” post offices they’re just bringing their Pitt Bulls for dog fights in the mail sorting room. This is a terrible image problem. Not that I want more people to move to LA but what would you do if I told you that was the city you were going to move to? “Well you’ll be living somewhere that last in traffic management but it is number one in something else.” “What, education? Literacy?” “Nope, dog attacks on mailmen.” So Eric, I would like to be second to last in traffic, and second in dog attacks on mailmen by the end of the first term. Let’s keep it realistic. And, you know me, I don’t like to make things cultural but come on Jews, keep your Rottweilers behind the fence, these poor guys are just trying to deliver your Pennysaver.
Orgasms: I was asked on the podcast if I could possibly complain about orgasms. I can. If guys were like chicks and could have multiple mess free orgasms the world would be our oyster. Imagine the VIP room at the strip club if nothing came out of your dork at the end of a spirited lap dance? Actually we’d probably never leave and society would crash to a halt, but still. So that’s my beef with the male orgasm – too messy. It’s awesome but then a moment later it’s like someone hocked a loogie on your belly. You can get hummus out of shag carpet faster than you can get jizz out of thigh hair. There’s no science to it either. You can’t tell where anything is going at any time. Every once in a blue moon when you take a piss and it goes forked and hits the seat, but it’s not like when you take a shit it circles around and hits you in the back of your head. The male cum is too unpredictable. And it makes double teaming a chick with a buddy really dangerous. If you get your load on the other guy, you’re friendship ain’t coming back from that. In fact it will probably lead to a Hattfield and McCoys style generational dispute. You know what the Bible says – “An eye for an eye, a spooge for a spooge.”