Monday, March 17, 2008

Nothing Much to Say About the World

Here I am, with absolutely nothing important to say about anything at all. I do, however, have a few observations, such as the one about how racists, sexists, and ageists are probably really upset about the presidential race at the moment. Not that I’m implying anything, but it is a little funny.

I also observed that I’m bordering on being broke. Normally I wouldn’t care, but when some half-rate musician who also doubles as a hooker suddenly sells nearly 7-figures worth of downloads, I feel a bit worthless. Any lady governors out there looking for a depressed gigolo? No? Okay, fine... I’ll settle for lady Senators who want their own stain on their dress in order to get back at their husband.

Ouch... maybe I shouldn’t have written that. What’s-his-nuts still has his Secret Service agents, after all. You know, those agents supposedly more involved in protecting our colorful new $5 bill, yet somehow finagled their way into Presidential security detail. I haven’t checked, but was there a new bill put into circulation in 1963? Hmm... conspiracies abound.

Speaking of conspiracies, anything think that Heather Mills is an Al Qaeda agent? She just screwed Sir Paul out of $50 million, you know. For some reasons such as "I can’t live without that much money" and "the $15 million I’m already worth isn’t enough to support my child." Seriously, the woman’s a cunt. But I know the real reason she needed that dough: bin Laden’s assets have been frozen, after all. Nothing like a one-legged Dancing With the Stars reject to give your terrorist group a good name.

Halle Berry had a kid. Big whoop. One more spoiled brat to grow up, pretend to be charitable, marry a widowed rock star, then take as much of his money as she can in order to finance stupid shit.

Wait, no... I haven’t started my Lindsay Lohan rant yet.

Speaking of skanks, did you hear the one about... never mind, I did the New York prostitute bit already. How she ever became a member of the Mickey Mouse Club is beyond me. Oops, she did it again. Yep, wrote another bad song, watched as her baby children ran wild, and somehow managed to save Neverland from being auctioned off.

Who am I talking about again? Fuck... I can’t remember. They say memory is the first thing to go. I personally think that’s awesome, because I don’t think I want to remember the rest of the shit that goes after it. I’m just confused, I guess, but you can’t blame me, because I watched The Fountain yesterday for the first time. For the life of me, I’m trying to figure out why the Hell that movie was made. Worse, I can’t honestly say if it was a good or a bad movie. That ever happen to you?

Doesn’t matter... the actors are probably going to follow their writer kin and strike this year. Which will save us from both good and bad movies. I should be considering a career change.

High-class gigolo comes to mind.

2 comments:

  1. It is, I'm baffled. Perhaps Jeff could polish up his resume and get a cool high paying job........... that or just conquer the world and eliminate the need to work outright.

    Posted by James on March 19, 2008 - Wednesday - 8:51 PM

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  2. Hey, you might be well qualified for a high-class gigolo. After all, initiate women into the mile high club...then jump out of the airplane. You're emminently qualified.

    Hmm...I don't really know where that joke was going. I think you're confusion is contagious.

    Posted by Geoffry on March 18, 2008 - Tuesday - 8:38 PM

    ReplyDelete