This Week in Rage – 3/1/15

This Week in Rage – 3/1/15

Sorry Kiddies, as you know I’ve been up to my ass in planning the Road Hard press and screening tour and last weekend I spent a little time with my new friend Kevin Costner. So I didn’t get a blog out last weekend. So this week there’s a little extra rage in the mix.


Sonny’s Valentines: I walked in on Sonny two weeks ago slouched over the kitchen counter. It looked like he’d been there for a while and I thought he was doing homework. Nope, he was making out Valentines. I asked him who he was making them for and he said “Everybody”. He had to do about 30 of them, one for each kid in class – including guys. I thought, if everyone gets one don’t they lose all meaning? So not only is he wasting his time making thirty of them he’s going to come home with thirty, one from each of the other kids in the class and promptly chuck them in the garbage. A total waste of time and paper. Then it got worse. When he got home that day I asked him which Valentine out of the thirty he received actually meant something to him. He thought for a second and said “Probably Matthew.” As I’ve always said, I’ve made peace with Sonny being gay. Now I’m just praying that he’ll be a top.


Women and Wasted Time: All of the married men reading will know what I’m talking about with this one. You spend a ton of time arguing with the wife about “If you’d just put the keys next to the door you’d know where they are every time.” Every husband who has seen his wife fishing through her purse for an hour for a lost Chap Stick or cell phone knows how annoying this is. Never mind the multiple conversations about shutting things off before leaving the house. I was thinking about all that time wasted looking for keys and having the same arguments over and over again and I had an epiphany. They don’t give a crap because statistically women live seven years longer than men. They can burn up that time searching for keys and having circular arguments that never seem to end. They don’t feel like they’re on the clock. If I knew I had an extra seven years to live I would take my car keys right now and chuck them into the ivy and just laugh, thinking, “This isn’t going to take seven years. Twenty minutes, tops.” It’s bonus time for them so they don’t care. Meanwhile us men are losing precious minutes of our shorter life.


Middle Aged Waitresses: I was sitting at the Cheesecake Factory with the kids the other day and we had a waitress who was about 51 years old, which made me want to sharpen my butter knife and fall on it. I don’t mind the young waitress who’s hot and is working her way through college. And on the other end of the spectrum I like when you go out to a diner, like a place out here in L.A. called DuPar’s, and you have the old mummy who calls you “hun”, is named Madge and makes you think “That’s great, she’s made a nice little career out of this.” It’s the 39-65 range that’s pathetic. The young waitress isn’t going to be doing it six months from now and the old one just likes meeting people and getting out of the house full of picture of her dead husband. But the 51-year-old waitress has a husband who just left her and moved to Florida with his secretary and she’s having trouble making rent and had to go work at the Olive Garden. She might have had a career at 31 but stopped to have kids and now here she is, serving me unlimited breadsticks. I think we need a hiring ban between the ages of 39 and 65. It will force those women to get their shit together. It’s good for them and good for the consumer. We don’t need a waitress who’s neither young enough to want to hump or old enough be able to tell us some stories about World War II.


The Oscars and Diversity Complaints: I’m addressing this one to all the actors in complaining about the lack of diversity at this year’s Oscars. Listen you sanctimonious pricks, you need to quit it with all the diversity talk given that you assholes are the ones who vote on the nominees. You act like the Academy is a bunch of long haul truckers in Kentucky whittling on a porch. They’re not deciding whether “Selma” is going to get the nod, you are. I don’t know that there is any other group in society that gets up at an event they’re in charge of and complain about it. I don’t believe they do this in the porn awards. You’ll never hear Sasha Grey at the podium complaining that there was way too much anal this year and not enough double penetration.


Car Chases and Spike Strips: There was a huge car chase on the news here in L.A. recently. It went on forever. It started in like Plentywood, Montana and finally ended in Redlands many hours later. The guy was going 130 miles an hour and it still lasted that long. At a certain point he went into a gated community and dropped someone off and the newscaster I was watching said, “Perhaps he dropped someone off at his home.” First off, I doubt he lived in a gated community, especially since he drove through the gate. Most of the residents just punch in the code. And, let’s face it, most of the people fleeing from the po-po don’t live in gated communities.


But the thing that really bothered me is that despite the fact that there was only one exit to the gated community, it was a loop, he still got away to do more damage. Once he was in they should have just put a cruiser at the only exit stopped him? But for some reason they didn’t and he ended up getting in a head on collision with a woman and her daughter. All I’m saying is this, cops. What happened to the spike strip? You don’t roll that out anymore? Are you pussies just going to follow this guy until he stops to re-hydrate? You’re cops. Shoot out the tires, for the love of Christ. And here’s the deal, if you don’t want the spike strips I’ll take them. That way when parent teacher night rolls around I’ll just slide that thing down the end of the driveway. “Sorry honey. Can’t go to the school, four flat tires.”