Hey Joe

Soup to Nuts

In her continuing battle with Russell Crowe for the title of Biggest Asshole, Naomi Campbell has been advanced to the Bonus Round for beaning her housekeeper with a cell phone.

Known for her violent tendencies in addition to her surfboard sized forehead, (or is that Tyra Banks, I can never remember?) Campbell walloped housekeeper, Ana Scolavino, after accusing her of stealing a pair of jeans that Campbell wanted to wear for an upcoming Oprah appearance.

Campbell claims the allegations are completely untrue and that Scolavino is “…sadly mistaken if she thinks she can extract money from me by concocting lies…”

Assistant District Attorney Elina Kreditor asked the judge to set bail at $3,500 and to order Campbell to surrender her passport.

Campbell’s attorney says she needs her passport for an upcoming trip to South Africa where she plans to visit with Nelson Mandela and bitch slap him with a pair of Manolos.

Campbell has a long list of assault charges on her rap sheet. In 2003 she used a now laughably outdated phone to assault her administrative assistant.  She was accused of slapping another maid across the face in 2004 and in 1998 she pleaded guilty to beating yet another assistant while working on a movie in Canada.

Note to any future assistants: You may want to negotiate for hazardous duty pay.

Snatched from the Headlines: Crazy Cat Terrorizes Connecticut Town

As a cat lover and, admittedly a bit of a loon myself, this is the kind of stuff I love to hear about—Lewis, a renegade cat, terrorizing his neighbors.

According to the Connecticut Post, the feline Colonel Kurtz has attacked two neighbors and an Avon Lady. Ha!  His owner, Ruth Cisero, claims that the human scratching post in question may have stepped on Lew’s tail or “closed a door on him.”  Regarding her neighbors, Cisero says one neighbor stepped into a standoff between Lewis and her cat while neighbor #2 received her thrashing in retaliation for attempting to shoo Lewis away from her home after another incident with her cat; the equivalent of a Kitty Drive-By.

Like any patriotic, red-blooded, litigious American, the Avon Lady in question is now suing Cisero for $5,000.00 because naturally somebody has to pay for the actions of this hairball hacking hooligan.

The local animal control authorities have placed Lewis under house arrest (true) and are currently fitting him for a kitty tracking anklet (made up). No one can accuse Fairfield Connecticut of being soft on crime. No sir. It’s comforting to know that some cities are not afraid to play hairball I mean hardball.

R.I.P. He’s a real ghost now

Casper Weinberger

1917-2006

Former Secretary of Defense under Ronald Regan, Casper Weinberger, died of pneumonia at the age of 88.

A political career spanning more than 30 years, Cap also served as Richard Nixon’s budget director and the head of the Federal Trade Commission.

Weinberger gained notoriety for his role in the Iran-Contra Affair and received a Christmas Eve pardon by George Bush Sr. two weeks before he was to stand trial on charges that he concealed his hand-written notes from congressional investigators. 

The Dreaded Triple Talaq

So one night a Muslim couple was sleeping. While in dreamland the husband supposedly spoke out loud, three times, the word “talaq” which means divorce.

Under Islamic law this is what is known as the “Triple Talaq”. A man need only say to his wife “Talaq, talaq, talaq” (I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you) and they are considered legally divorced.

According to Reuters, Islamic leaders have told the couple, married 11 years with three children, that they must now separate.

Can a person really be held responsible for what he/she says in their sleep? In New Delhi the answer is apparently yes.

The wife told some friends that her husband had performed the Triple Talaq and when Islamic leaders got wind of it they stepped in to separate the two. Could it be that the wife wanted a divorce and simply said her husband spoke the word?  Seems fishy to me.

But I’m curious. How often does this actually occur in Islamic nations? Imagine if it were that easy to divorce in the United States?  “I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you,” would be as commonly heard a phrase as “How’s it going”, “What’s up” or Have a nice day”. In the middle of restaurants and shopping malls, you’d see angry couples hollering  “I divorce you I divorce you I divorce you”.

Would it be like the fast draw professionals of the old west?  Whoever is able to spit out a Triple Talaq the fastest is awarded the divorce and the spoils. Would couples be plotting pre-emptive talaqs? Of course the divorce attorneys would have a heyday with it.

“We have witnesses from the Wolf & Retch that can testify that my client quite clearly spoke the third talaq before your client. My client also claims that you client has a speech impediment and has never been able to utter any three words in quick succession.”

But one must be careful, for according to Islamic law there are no “backsies”. If a couple wants to remarry they must wait at least 100 days. In addition to the 100 day moratorium, the wife must first marry another man and he must divorce her on account of some marital conflict or she must become a widow. 

Certainly sounds like an awful lot of trouble if two people really care for each other. So the lesson to be learned here is that one must be careful about flinging out careless Triple Talaqs. Feel free to go crazy with those Triple Sowcows though. Personally I can never get enough sowcows.

American Dream Job

Here’s a little story if you’re interested. It has no great moral impact or earth shattering revelations. It’s just a little tale about how a lost man found his way. That man, by the way, was me.

About 2 years ago just when I getting ready to slide, ever so undignified, into 40, I suddenly found myself out of a job. After 14 years with the same company I was kicked to the curb like so much recycling. “Thanks for your time. We appreciate your efforts but we’ve decided to change direction. Best of luck to you.”  Immediately thereafter began the well meaning annotations of family and friends:  “It was meant to be. The right job for you is out there. It will happen for you one day. If you don’t get this job then it wasn’t meant to be.”   Bullshit, all of it.  Right job my ass. There is no such thing. Not when at any given moment you’re fate is subject to the bone rolls and tarot card readings of Corporate America’s middle management; suddenly finding yourself escorted to the  parking lot holding a cardboard box full of family snapshots, a potted plant and the loose change from your drawer as security locks the doors behind you.

I spent a lot of time at home for a few months. Got back in touch with my inner-Merry Maid and reacquainted myself with that hose laden contraption known as the vacuum cleaner and her second cousin the Swiffer Sweeper. Between spit-shining the chrome accent pieces in the bathroom and hunting dust bunnies, I surfed the web and caught up on my movie watching.

And so it was that one darkening February afternoon Netflix delivered American Beauty – academy award winner from 2000, Kevin Spacey and Annette Benning. You remember; Spacey won for best actor and Benning lost out to that horse-faced Hillary Swank? Anyway, Spacey plays a 40 something schlub that gets canned from his job after years of devoted service. Sound like anyone we know? The difference is that Spacey welcomes his new situation and begins to discover that his whole life is one big pile of dog shit and  begins a quest to rid himself of the shackles he’s allowed himself to wear for the past twenty years. I was absolutely captivated and just as Ricky Fitts became Lester Burnham’s personal hero, so Lester became mine. I took a vow right there in the BarcaLounger ® that as God as my witness my next job was going to have the least amount of stress and responsibility possible.

Want to read the rest?  Go to the SoMa Literary Review

R.I.P--HEE HAW!!

Buck Ownes

1929-2006

The singer known as the "flashy Rhinstone Cowboy" from the long running country variety show, Hee Haw, passed away at his home at the age of 76.

Owens had more than 20 Number One records during the 60's and 70's.

Way Deep

I love this picture. Poor old Phil. Can a deeper end be gone off of?

Rainy Friday

Friday afternoon and I find myself uncharacteristically at a loss for words. 

I’m tired. It’s been a long week. It’s raining. Again. I feel like relaxing with a martini and a movie.

Ya’ll have a good weekend. Maybe I’ll check in sometime. Maybe you will too.

Wall Crawler Update

So I’m looking forward to taking in Spiderman III (currently in production and due out in May of 2007) with the kids. The first two installments were very well done, none of the hokey, cheesy TV like superhero effects, good stories, character development and all that other movie jargon.

Here are a couple of little tidbits that you may or may not know about or care about:

Spidey will wear an all black costume this time around. Maybe he’s tired of being just a generalist in the spider-man business and is planning to specialize as a Black Widow. OK that was dumb but I don’t have a huge stockpile of spider jokes.

Topher Grace joins the cast, presumably as a villain but a recent pop in at the Sony Pictures site site does not give any updates as to exactly which scoundrel he’ll play; The Lizard? Mysterio? Electro? Only time will tell.

Thomas Haden Church will also join the cast, playing ne’er-do-well Flint Marko. What a stupid name. I couldn’t even find a Flint Marko in the villain’s gallery on Sony’s site. HOWEVER, a quick Google search revealed that Flint Marko is one of aliases of William Baker, AKA The Sandman. (a return to the Sony site revealed that I simply missed this information the first go around. But I digress)   

The Sandman’s powers:

-The ability to transform any part of his body into a sand-like substance

-Can alter his size and mass by incorporating nearby sand

-Superhuman strength.

“Stop Spiderman or I’ll throw sand in your eyes while building a very cool sand castle.” 

Kind of a lame sounding Supervillian if you ask me but I’m willing to give him a chance to convince me otherwise.

See you at the movies and don’t forget to save me the aisle seat!  (Yes I stole that line)

Topher Grace Villian Update

Topher will be playing Edward "Eddie" Brock, AKA Venom. That is all.

Do These Cranky-Pants Make Me Look Fat?

A friend and reader has accused me of making a personality shift from Joe Cool to Joe Cranky.

I admit that I’ve become a bit of a curmudgeon over the past couple of years and I apologize. But I’m overworked, under paid and sinking into debt. Just last night the wife and I were working on a budget and trying to figure out what else we can cut out of our lives in order to make ends meet. It’s bullshit.

I know we’re not alone in this dilemma but it sucks when things like basic cable become a luxury that we can no longer afford. I have less money at forty years old then I did at twenty. And we really don’t spend that much on “extras”.  The occasional pizza or Chinese take-out shouldn’t put such a dent in the bank account but then look at the cost of pizza these days?  If you care at all about quality you’ll end up spending upwards of $20 for a pizza. Chinese food, try $40 or more to feed a family of four.

The dining out is not a daily occurrence by any means. We try to “shop smart” and make our own meals. But we both hold down full time jobs. I normally don’t get home before 6PM. The wife is a teacher and while school may end at 3PM, her workday doesn’t end when the bell rings. Her bell normally doesn’t ring until close to 10PM (there’s a joke in there somewhere, but that would detract from the cranky mood of this post) so in addition to “homework” there are the kids (and their homework) to contend with- the boy’s baseball practice, the girl’s piano lessons, laundry, etc. The point is that quite often finding the time to make dinner is hard enough let alone the energy or desire. And I know most kids have too many activities but honestly ours do not. Right now the boy only has baseball. The girl has piano once a week and Girl Scouts now and again. They’re not over-burdened with extra curricular activities.

Then we have the cars, another necessary evil of life in the ‘burbs. The wife drives a mini-van that sucks up about $50 in gas every week. I commute 60 miles a day, which also includes a $3 bridge toll. So maybe it’s time to trade in the van for a more economical mode of transportation but this may result in taking on a car note, which is definitely not in the budget.

It certainly doesn’t help that we live in one of the most expensive areas of the country. Often we feel that we’re killing ourselves simply to own our own home. Again, I know we’re not alone here. We Bay Area folks are forever hearing about John and Jane Middlegirth who traded their Bay Area home and their slim waistlines for a 4,000 sq. ft. spread on five acres with their own private lake in bumfuck Nebraska or some other fly-over hell hole. And I have to admit that there are many times we’ve considered making that very same trade. (Given the fit of my pants, my stomach is under the impression that we already have. But again, levity is not our goal today).

So what’s the answer short of moving to the flatlands of the mid-west? I could make more money if I had any skills that society deemed worthy of a decent paycheck. There’s always that state lottery thing but I don’t hold out much hope. Fred Garvin-Male Prostitute? My best physical years are behind me.

So there it is. Yea I’m a bit crusty and cranky but I’m still the same loveable guy.  So love me, love my crust and piss off.