Tips for Hiking in Iran: Don’t

The recent arrest of three Americans apprehended while hiking around Iran’s lush, desert habitats has prompted nature enthusiasts and parks and recreation officials world wide to issue a stricter set of guidelines for traveling to the region: don’t.  Many of Iran’s majestic mountains, idyllic waterfalls, and lunaresque, cratorial basins can be enjoyed in the privacy of your own home, officials point out, with the aid of Google images or in one of the  many picturesque coffee table books available at your friendly and safe Barnes and Noble or Border’s bookstore. Your friends will still delight in your stories of looking up at the endless canopy of stars in the Middle-Eastern sky or back yard, tucked into your Eastern Mountain Sports thermal bag, sipping some American-made hot chocolate, savoring your freedom from incarceration and diplomatic uncertainty.  Officials assure that family members and other guests will remain rapt, as you describe the breathtaking vistas of some of the headiest of Iran’s summits, downloaded right to your lap top with high speed DSL; they will hang on your every word, comfortably, without the nuisance of an angry Iranian guard pointing a prison made shiv at your throat, threatening to detonate the bomb strapped to his body.  All the memories you manufacture with the help of photoshop will be yours to treasure for years to come until you peacefully pass away like the old lady at the end of Titanic and not chained to a dirty toilet in an underground prison while a rat gnaws your face off.

Cheerleading Labeled More Dangerous Sport than Bear Bating

It’s a staple of American football and basketball games; a group of perky young girls in short skirts waving their pom-poms, inciting a riot in the name of team spirit and the hometown advantage. According to a newly published study, cheerleading is more than part of America’s past time, it is one of the nation’s most deadliest sports.  The cheerleader’s acromantic twists, turns, leaps, and gyrations are a chiropractor’s wet dream, but that is not the only menace created by this titillating spectacle.  Cheerleading is harmful to spectators watching young, nubile girls spin, dip, hurl, and bend with the freakish grace of a Barbie doll, waiting on the off chance that there might be a flash of illicit cheek or a nippular incident.  The hapless game goer, trying not to look too leeringly obvious, trying to nervously dab at the flop sweat pooling in the collar of his shirt as he worries he might be sitting next to the angry looking hulk of a cheerleader’s father, experiences increased heart rate, a surge in blood pressure, and might even go into epipletic shock trying to avert his gaze from the 30 springing, flinging, kicking, and flashing girls filling the court or field.  No moves have been made to ban the sport, but in an effort to make cheering more safe, the National Association of Spirit Hands (NASH) is launching a comprehensive campaign to recruit less attractive, out of shape, unpopular girls to cheering squads across the country.

John and Kate Gosselin Fearful that No One Actually Gives a Crap

Conservative Talk Show Host Rush Limbaugh Drops 90 lbs! Weight loss Fuels Speculation Republican Icon is Actually Living Jello Mold

For a man who likes to flap his gums, radio personality Rush Limbaugh remains tight lipped on his recent 90 lb drop in girth, including 7lbs in one week.  Health and dietary experts remain skeptical the big, gooey, lovable ignoramus lost the weight using healthy methods.  Many suspect cosmetic surgery or good, old fashioned voo-doo came into play.  Others give voice to what several factions already suspect: Limbaugh’s gelatinous exterior was just that–jello, proving that while there is always room for jello, there might not always be a stomach for it.

Kim Jong Il and Clinton Dish Jo Bros, Twilight, and American Journalists at First Royal Sleep-Over

In an unprecedented move, N. Korean leader Kim Jong Il hosted former president Bill Clinton in a sleep-over to discuss the release of American journalists sentenced to 12 years in a labor camp for allegedly spying on the N. Korean government.  The pair watched the complete 3 seasons of Blossom, ordered sushi-pizza, and made prank calls to Queen Elizabeth.  A tense moment ensued when Jong Il became incensed that Mr. Clinton had texted Lindsay Lohan to tell her Jong Il thought she was “smokin,” but all was forgiven in the name of pajama diplomacy.

E-volveIn what is being hailed as one of the biggest upsets in media history since O.J. Simpson’s white bronco chase eclipsed NASA’s successful communication with another planet, coverage of Supreme Court nominee Judge Sotomayer’s confirmation hearings have trumped everything-post-mortem about Michael Jackson.  With news sites and blogs devoted to Sotomayer’s grammar, hairstyle, hand gestures, and favorite kind of ice cream (Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream, duhh), the late King of Pop and what he may have had for breakfast the morning he died (Kashi Go Lean, duhh) has virtually disappeared from the news wires.  Self-appointed Jackson spokesperson and lovable family curmudgeon, Joe “Gestapo” Jackson voiced his outraged that the first, female Latina judge in the court’s history would receive more coverage than his freak of nature, rubber-faced, Nosferatu pop star son.  “What’s wrong with people,” Jackson demanded, “I have a hand-written letter from Michael to Bubbles the Chimp and a credible theory that the CIA and Cosa Nostra were behind Michael’s death, which I am willing to part with for several million dollars, and some broad in a black bathrobe gets all the headlines? This is a travesty of justice.”  As if to add insult to injury for the bereaved Jackson patriarch, sources say that sales of bumper stickers reading “Wise Latina On Board” have greatly surpassed commemorative Jackson memorial programs.

A man was killed this week when his car plunged over the side of the Grand Canyon.  A representatative for the McGoo family could not be reached for comment.

Police are investigating the suspicious demise of President Obama’s long-time teleprompter.  Andrew Malcolm of the Los Angeles Times reported on the incident occurring on July 13 in Washington D.C. “As the president launched into his 11 minutes of stimulating remarks, according to eyewitnesses, the old teleprompter simply expired, came loose, fell silently as if in movie slow motion before the stunned eyes of watchers and smashed into many pieces on the hard floor.”  Though no one has been directly implicated in the incident, possible suspects include Power Point, Slide Projector, that guy from the Mac commercials, and Karl Rove.  Authorities are not ruling out suicide as a potential motive.  One D.C. policeperson commented, on the condition of anonymity, “If you had to spend your life spewing out the same ten words over and over to make some other guy look great, you might decide to end things too.”  Investigators are also conducting a thorough search of Teleprompter’s locker, looking for illegal wires, chips, or other forms of digital enhancement.

Liz Cheney, the daughter of former Vice President Dick “Buck Shot” Cheney defended her father’s rumored implication in keeping clandestine C.I.A operations secret from Congress.  Insisting he did nothing wrong or illegal, Ms. Cheney hailed her father for helping to keep America safe for eight years.  Cheney, a former state department employee, is also the proud owner of lake front property in Arizona, a bridge in Brooklyn, and traditionally leaves carrots and sweet treats for Santa and his reindeer.

A new USA Today gallop poll published this week reveals the GOP needs a boost to its self-esteem.  The GOP has blamed its poor self-esteem on its nagging mother and stress eating.

Pop superstar Madonna was recently given the go-ahead to adopt a young Malawi child.  This brings the Angelina/Madonna Baby Adopt-Off total to 5-3.  Madonna expressed her desire to give the child a loving home.  A loving home? Maybe, if that includes being raised by an overbearing narcissistic mother who sleeps in an oxygen chamber and whose idea of discussing the facts of life is giving her daughter her Sex book to read.  But hey, it will give her and Suri Cruise something to talk about in group therapy.

June 12, 2009 marks the historical media transition from analogue to digital t.v.  Those without a digital converter box will no longer receive television transmissions and may be forced to interact with friends and families.  In a related story, analogue t.v. will finally be available in Russia.  Russians have been forming lines around the t.v. store since 1975.

An unidentifiable spokesperson for N. Korea indicated that Kim Jong Il’s youngest son, Kim Jong Un, has been given the name “Brilliant Comrade,” indicating the start of a new transition to power.  Other names that did not make the cut: Kick Ass Dictator, Wacky Jong Un ’69, and Ashton Kutcher

Former President George H.W. Bush will spend his 85th birthday sky diving.  Son George W was invited to parachute alongside his father, but declined saying “Are you serious? Why on earth would anyone want to throw himself out of a plane on purpose?”

A German teen was hit in the head by a pebble-sized meteorite.  The teen was unphased by the incident as he had been following the meteorite on Twitter.

An Egyptian man from a wealthy family, frustrated over being denied marriage to a woman from a lower-class family, cut off his own penis.  Apparently he’s never heard of eloping.

A new audio message by suspected leader of Al Qaeda and terror master-mind Osama Bin-Laden, condemning President Obama and his foreign policies, surfaced on Wednesday as Mr. Obama begins a diplomatic trip to Saudi Arabia.  Bin-Laden’s last video message came in 2007 prompting analysts to speculate that the terror-leader prefers the less time-intensive audio production to video transmissions, which would make him a PC.

In entertainment news, former Back Street Boy Lance Bass is in talks to record an album with Europe’s sensation Susan Boyle, tentatively titled Lance ‘n Boyle.

Newt Gingrich apologized for calling supreme court nominee Judge Sotomayer a racist. Trying to avoid further controversy, Gingrich said, “I’m sorry; I meant to call her a racist woman.”

According to a new study, images of teens smoking have decreased in blockbuster movies.  On the rise: images of sexually awkward, pre-pubscent, horn dogs with a penchant for fart jokes and a keen sense of comic irony.

“One of these days, Alice,” he says, spittle flying from his lips and the sweat swinging from the Brill Cream slicked tips of his hair. “POW! Right in the kisser!” His meaty fist rests inches from her placid face, blank, like the surface of the moon he threatens to send her to each night.  The audience erupts in shrieks of laughter.

“Oh jeeze, here, the dingbat’s got something to say,” he snidely remarks, hunched into his faded chair, face screwed up in disgust.  “This outta be swell,” He sneers sarcastically.  He sips a beer, obviously disinterested, while she prattles and rambles on about her cousin or socks or her cousin’s socks.  He pretends to nod off to get her to shut up.  She’s unphased. The audience erupts in shrieks of laughter.

“Gee Al,” she whines, her maroon buffant, a shelacked treasure, ensnared in three gallons of hair spray barely quivers, unlike her thrusting breasts. “It sure would be nice to have sex tonight *pause* with a winner. *sigh* But I suppose you’ll have to do.” She uses one of her Lee Press-On talons to clean something out of her teeth, glancing at her emotionless husband.  He stares blankly at the television and says “Aw c’mon Peg, haven’t we punished each other enough? Sex is for, you know, people who like each other.”  The audience erupts in shrieks of laughter.

Today California legislature voted to uphold Proposition 8, the controversial overturning of gay marriage that went into effect in November.  Many gay rights advocates and members of the gay and lesbian community view gay marriage as a foundational civil rights issue, arguing for entitlement to all of the same legal protections afforded heterosexual couples.  Civil Unions, many assert, do not offer the same type of critically important legal benefits (health insurance, tax filing status, or visitation and power of attorney rights in light of medical issues or calamities to list a few).  The promotion of Civil Unions in their various formats enforces a separate but not equal purview.  Opponents challenge these views, of course, claiming that advocates play semantics with these terms and that civil unions are, to quote Forest Gump “fine and dandy.”

Semantics: the different meanings words posess.  Former President Bill Clinton gave us a crash test dummy course in semantics with his cunning, lingual (*ahem*) dance around “that,” “sexual relations,” and “putting my penis inside her.”  Point being, our twenty-first century lexicon grows increasingly malleable to the point where talking points appear on the side bar of the shows of talking heads, later distilled down to Twitterphiles in just 140 characters. Words create the fabric of our realities or fictions.

One of the leading groups that rallied around Proposition 8 and its current status was the organization Protect Marriage, protectmarriage.com.  The mission statement is simple, people coming together to “restore traditional marriage.” Restore. Traditional. Marriage.  Judging from our vast wasteland of pop culture, often carved out in our own reflections, that seems to suggest a ruggedly handsome white man reading the paper in his comfy chair while a beautiful and cheerful woman prepares dinner and gives him his slippers.  The kids play quietly at his feet.  Maybe it means a bored and lonely woman, devoting herself to her husband and family, meting out her hours in quiet desperation accompanied only by the soothing, numbing presence of her good friend Percodin.  Traditional. Oh! Ok, traditional marriage, a young man and young woman find themselves unexpectedly “in the family way” and decide that marriage is, after all, for the best, and hey, now that the good folks at Protect Marriage have restored it, might as well take advantage of it, right? Immature and inexperienced, they get married, they fight; there are stresses that no one could have prepared them for, he stays out with his friends and sometimes does not come home until the following day, she cries on the phone to her mother every night.  They have a second child, a band-aid solution to a bullet hole problem; they are  divorced and dating new people they met Match.com by the age of 23. Or was that not the fate facing Bristol Palin? We’ll never know since the curtain fell on that farce once the political cameras stopped roving and the clothes had been thoughtfully donated to charity.  In these cases, why would any self-respecting gay or straight man, woman, or beast want any part of this social and personal contract?  And is it lost on anyone the surreal irony that California has become the epicenter of this moral debate? California, where Hollywood and Los Angeles are located, right? Where I can turn on the t.v. and learn about a pop star’s 15 second marriage or find out who was caught cheating, again, on their wife of 25 years, or discover who is leaving their wife or husband for the scandalously younger co-star, live-in “Manny,” pool boy, or hot new studio producer? Right. Traditional marriage it is.

Change, change, change

Change, change, change

If you follow the “logic” of a group like Protect Marriage, the crusade is even less about homophobia or prejudice or even poor judgement in the annals of civil rights and more about protecting some type of implicit-Disneyfied version of “traditional marriage.”  Semantics.  Marriage is defined in the dictionary both as a “social institution” by which a “man and woman” establish their decision to live as husband and wife through legal and spiritual channels and as “any close or intimate association or union.”  Protect Marriage worried (real hand wringing here) that California’s turn to gay marriage would open up the doors for any number of odd pairings.  Too late. Miriam-Webster, Oxford, and American Heritage are way ahead of you.

Marriage has legal facets that are crucial for the health and well-being of the people involved, the people involved, not the purple, red, Communist, gay, straight, or masochistic, but the people.   And that’s why all people should have access to these rights, protections, and other legal mumbo jumbo.  How you choose to conduct yourselves in that marriage is your own business, go be the star of your own freak show, nightmare, or dreamy Broadway musical fairy tale, but do us all a favor and leave the sanctimonious indignation to the experts on t.v.

Semantics. We’re on to you.  And oh, get me beer, Edith, would you?

Today the World Health Organization, (WHO? right. The World Health Organization. oh WHO. I just said…that must go on for hours at their meetings) announced that they were changing the name of the swine flu after the world’s bovine population complained that it was spurring on a mass genocide of pig-slaughtering.  Pigs, they pointed out, do not deserve persecution based on their messy eating habits, general unhygienic tendencies, or because they taste so fucking good roasted over slow flame.  Mistakenly attributing the recent flu epidemic to pigs, again they pointed out, merely exacerbated the already tense climate of anti-bovitic bias that runs rampant through parts of the world and in any upscale urban neighborhood where neo-vegetarians and enviro-friendly communities abound.

WHO rechristend the virus formerly know as swine as: H1N1 Influenza A.  At a press conference, a spokesperson for H1 stated, “Though we sympathize with the pigs, we’re a bit unhappy with this designation.  It doesn’t read well on bumper stickers or t-shirts, and we’re tried to get some good puns or sexual inuendos out of it, but so far have come up empty handed.”  The spokesperson continued, “And if this weren’t bad enough, we were really close to talking with Warner Bros on a Porky Pig celebrity tie-in. Now, the most we can hope for is some lame sponsorship on Sesame Street or a guest shot on Scrabble All-Stars.”

WHO officials stand by their decision to rename what Fox News is calling the deadliest germ outbreak since Pamela Anderson’s thong collection went up for auction.  One representative for the agency who did not wish to be named commented: “Once people started going after the pigs, we knew we had to do something.  I mean, we didn’t want another Iraqi Yellow Fever on our hands.”

The Germans know a thing or two about making a public spectacle, World War II aside.  This fall plans are in place to symbollically recreate the fall of the Berlin wall to commemorate the 20th anniversary of its destruction.  One-thousand Styrofoam dominoes, 8-feet high and 3-feet wide, will topple on the historical day when, twenty years prior, Germans declared their love for Big Macs and the Gap and ripped into the concrete divider to the soaring strains of Herr Hasselhoff.  The dominoes will be decorated in different themes and styles by grade school children, commemorating the fall of communism and the continuation of global warming in the destruction of 1,000 Styrofoam dominoes.

But enviro-terrorism and the luring of the Hoff out of pop music retirement not withstanding, these wacky Germans have unknowingly given us a new and even more satisfying way to shake our collective fists at the inequities and injustices consuming the American financial industry: knocking shit down.  It’s that simple. Sorry mid-western tea baggers, you know who you are: the faithful lemmings of Faux err Fox News, making your wagon-trail way to state capitals to boldly fling (pinkies extended everyone..on three..) your tiny netted bags of defiance, your kind of peaceful assembly is so eighteenth century.  Economically frustrated times call for some package stimulation in the form of knocking shit down!

People went nuts when Saddam Hussein’s concrete body took a dirt dive into the Iraqi sand.  When the rebel army in Star Wars brought those big, tin dinosaur beasts crashing to their knees with the ole cable-foot-tangle-tango, the whole movie theatre lost its collective 1985 shit.  What rube worth his welfare check doesn’t leave his spam sandwich on his tv tray to run out and watch some morons knock over a cow in the middle of the night?

I say, hitch up the trailer and move that dunk tank that you and your buddies lifted from the church carnival last fall in a drunken haze to the capital’s steps, dig a mannequin out of the dumpster and slap a smug-looking Madoff mug shot on it, and invite folks to give Bernie a bath.  Rig up some AIG pinatas and make a Cinqo de Money-o party of it; have the neighbors come over to drink margaritas,take a swing, and indulge in some public lewd behavior.  Build a bowling lane on the sidewalks of Wall St. and each day roll a different corporate giant’s ball at some pins painted in little pin-striped suits with pink slips wrapped around their necks.  Doesn’t that feel good? Doesn’t neandrathalic superiority make you want to scratch yourself and jump around like the chimps at the beginning of Kubrick’s 2001?

You won’t get your money or your job back, but it sure will give you a reason to smile; and if you do this right, you just might get Hasselhoff to come out of retirement.