Happy Halloween from Rickey

As you can probably gather from the picture above, this holiday has special connotations for Rickey. You cynical readers may be surprised to learn that there was a time when Halloween didn’t involve dressing up like Napoleon Dynamite, or the ghost of Bob Novak, or a potential rape victim (come on now ladies, how many more promiscuous [insert profession here] outfits can you up with?) No, once upon a time, Rickey was a child at heart and dressed up as Ghostbuster for roughly ten years running as a kid, until the suit grew too small to squeeze into and society no longer permitted an eighteen year old to wear a Halloween costume to synagogue.

Rickey is the young owl eyed lad on the right sporting the proton pack. A young Egon, if you will. As you can tell from his jubilant attitude and devil may care stance, Rickey’s younger brother was clearly the Ray Stanz of the pair. Quite a dashing duo, yes, we know. You totally wish you had a mother who sewed your name onto a Ghostbusters outfit when you were a kid, don’t you? (The hats aren’t exactly Ghostbusters canon however… way to drop the ball, mom).

And what of Rickey’s Jack–Off Invitational that we so fervently promoted last week? Well, the deadline came and went for our little pumpkin carving contest and it is now official: this thing has turned into Rickey’s own personal version of “The Great Pumpkin.” Just you wait and see Charlie Brown: one year we’ll see some decent submissions! Sigh… anyhow, not counting Rickey and his brother’s creations, we received a whopping two submissions. Two! One of which wasn’t even a goddamned jack-o-lantern, just a big doll with a plastic pumpkin for a head, and the other jack-o-lantern submission looked like something a balance impaired crystal meth addict might have created. Come on now people, whatever happened to the pride that hard working Americans took in their work?

In fact, we are left wondering: is the economic situation truly so dire that people are unable to allocate the funds and time to purchase a gourd and carve a decent design into it? Does no one else enjoy this holiday as much as Rickey does? We suspect not. No, you ingrates carved yourselves pumpkins, you were simply too selfish to email your creations to Rickey. So rather than crowning anyone the victor by default, we’re bitterly scrapping the whole damned thing. There is no winner. You are all losers. Halloween is cancelled this year. Congratu-fucking-lations, you’ve ruined Halloween—we hope you can live with yourselves.

Oh yes, and just in case that last paragraph wasn’t off-putting enough, here’s Young Henderson’s pumpkin submission from down south, which certainly qualifies as scary, albeit not in the sense that we were shooting for:
Yes, the kid has issues. Last year it was a Twin Towers jack-o-lantern. This year, a confederate flag. Why? Well, we’re not altogether sure. Because he’s an insane jackass we guess. It goes without saying that his Ghostbusters jumpsuit didn’t have a Winston Zeddemore nametag on it. Wrapping things up is Rickey and Ms. Henderson’s pumpkin, which is a study in how to carve a proper jack-o-lantern. Take note, fuckwits:
He’s fat, he’s malicious & evil, and he lacks functioning ears. Ladies and gentlemen, we proudly present: Jack-o-Lantern Rush Limbaugh! Now pardon Rickey while he scampers off too see if that Ghostbusters outfit still fits…

[posted at Humor Blogs]

It's Raining Saviors (Hallelujah)

Courtesy of Mr. Furious, Rickey presents your motivational left wing propaganda for the day. Something to lift your spirits and fill your hearts with an undue amount of hope, that maybe, just maybe, this country will do the right thing this time around. Behold, Barack Obama at a rally in Chester, Pennsylvania:


Good stuff indeed. Who would've guessed that hardened socialists don't melt in the rain? Does this remind anyone else of the opening speech in "Crimson Tide" that Gene Hackman gives in front of the sub? Anyone? Bueller? Eh nevermind. Go 'Bama, roll tide.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

Rickey’s Fall Television Picks

Now that the major news media outlets have neglected to post spoiler alerts about the presidential election victory before their nightly coverage (SPOILER: Obama wins) Rickey has decided to turn his attention back to honest to goodness scripted dramas. Always on the lookout for yet more cultural whimsy to consume your time, we’ve compiled a list of Rickey tested and approved television shows for your betterment for you to enjoy and clog up your DVR with. We think you’ll find that several hours devoted weekly to these recommended shows will render you wittier, more plugged in, and twice as likely to complete the NY Times Sunday crossword.

Yes, Rickey knows, we’re halfway through the new fall season, so what good are these recommendations going to do for you? That’s where the free streaming goodness of Surf the Channel, comes into play (Surf the Channel: reducing television show DVD revenue since October, 2007). Proceed onwards for Rickey’s recommended viewing, and even if you opt not to give some of these shows a shot, at least familiarize yourself with them, because in our increasingly pop culture driven society, it’s crucial that you at least be able to talk about the zeitgeist shows out there, is it not?

Programs of Note:

The Life and Times of Tim. It’s Seinfeld, but for hipsters. Vulgar hipsters. This program reminds Rickey a lot of Dr. Katz: a funny show with an offbeat and decidedly low key tone. A nice restrained follow up to the bombastic male soap opera that is Entourage. It’s a sublimely witty half hour that will tide you over until “Flight of the Concords” and “Curb your Enthusiasm” return.

Mad Men. Because deep down, there’s a little bit of Don Draper in all of us, clawing to get out. This show, created by Sopranos alumn Matthew Weiner, shares a lot of things with the mobster drama: it’s a brooding study in the strange and bewildering minutia of human behavior, and it totally sticks with you. Also, it teaches Rickey the important lesson that smoking, drinking, and gorging yourself have absolutely no negative repercussions whatsoever, other than making one appear incredibly attractive to women.

Sons of Anarchy. So what if they broadcast “I, Robot” five times daily? Were you aware that FX also has a ton of solid television dramas? True story. This show, focusing on lives of a biker gang, is good solid entertainment. Think Sopranos meets Hamlet on motorcycles and you’re on the right track. And yes, Rickey, lacking a television critic’s formal training, will be comparing everything to The Sopranos from now on.

The Shield. In the absence of the reliably menacing Jack Bauer, Rickey hopped on the Vince Mackey bandwagon last season and hasn’t looked back since. Call us nuts, but the fellow seems like he’s got a bit of a chip on his shoulder. A tad of angina, if you will. And let’s be honest here, you need a gritty police procedural drama to offset your troubling fixation with Gossip Girls, don’t you?

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Hey kids, do you like frat guy humor? And Danny DevVito doing his very best Danny DeVito impression? Then do we have a show for you. The season started off somewhat flat with two overly shrill and tedious episodes, but it recently has ramped up the hilarity to new and exciting levels. Pour yourself a Rolling Rock and tune in to the one and only show to derive humor from the incredibly depressing realm of Philadelphia.

True Blood. We’ll be damned if Rickey has any idea where this show is going. There’s an awful lot going on in some backwater southern town involving vampires, romance, drugs, and murder. All Rickey knows is that before every episode, HBO broadcasts a warning about strong sexual content and every episode this show totally delivers. So Rickey continues to watch.

Fringe. This slick and snazzy sci-fi drama is easily the best new offering of the year, and for that reason, we’ll actually spend a bit of time discussing it. The basic premise behind the show is that science and technology have evolved to a point where mankind is unable to control them. In a recent episode, some poor sap has his personal electromagnetic field altered when he becomes angry, wrecks havoc, and unwittingly imprints his magnetic field on a cassette tape. The show’s lead characters lift the pattern off of the tape, stick some homing pigeons in a tube, and program the pigeons to track that signal to find the creep. Is this even remotely plausible? Fuck no. But the characters are fun, and unlike JJ Abrams’ other offering, Lost, you can watch an episode and still have a clue of what this show is actually about. Also the mad scientist character, Walter Bishop is one of the most enjoyable characters that Rickey’s has ever seen on tv. Also, you’ll be pleased to hear that this show provides incontrovertible evidence that Joshua Jackson is alive and well. Highly recommended.

Programs to Most Definitely Avoid:

Heroes. Remember way back in Season 1 when this show seemed promising? Well it’s turned into Rickey’s own personal Vietnam since then. Two options for fixing this mess: either come up with a concrete conclusion, or cancel it altogether, because Rickey just can’t take much more of the recycled storylines and bland characters. Life’s too damned short and there’s only 18% of free space on Rickey’s DVR hard drive.

Pushing Daisies. Cute, far too cute for its own good. Nauseatingly cute even. Yes, Rickey enjoys golden retrievers, colorful settings, and the copious use of alliteration, but what of it? Is that really enough to build an entire show around? Rickey thinks not. Rest assured, when they cancel this overly sweet and whimsical television show, Rickey will not be participating in any campaigns to send pies to ABC. And yet, Pushing Daisies’ virtually assured cancellation did not prevent ABC from refusing to bump this show for the Overlord Obama infomercial this Wednesday night. Odd…

Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles. Shows involving time travel and time paradoxes make Rickey’s heard hurt (Rickey already has one Lost, thank you very much). One question that has always bugged Rickey about the Terminator property: how is John Connor able to send his own father back in time to become his father? And what if John Connor ends up hooking up with his girlfriend on the show and ends up fathering Kyle Reese? Would that make John his own grandfather? If so, that would be terrific. Honestly, musings like these are really only one reason to continue to watch this show. Oh yes, and Summer Glau.

Hannity & Colmes. Who knew that mentally challenged lizards could wear suits?

[posted at Humor Blogs]

Your Monday Morning Redirect

For the 3.5 people who haven't seen this yet, marvel as Ron Howard takes off his shirt, dons a wig, reunites with Henry Winkler and Andy Griffith, and endorses Barack Obama, all within the space of four minutes. This almost makes up for "Cinderella Man."



[Posted at Humor Blogs]

John McCain’s Last Hope: The Litigious Legion of Doom!

“In Florida, Democratic lawyer Charles H. Lichtman has assembled almost 5,000 lawyers to monitor precincts, assist voters turned away at the polls and litigate any disputes that can't be resolved out of court. ‘On Election Day, I will be managing the largest law firm in the country, albeit for one day,’ said Lichtman, 53, a Fort Lauderdale corporate lawyer and veteran of the five-week recount after the 2000 election when Florida eventually delivered the presidency to George W. Bush.” –Bloomberg News, 10/20/08

….Meanwhile in an undisclosed location, The Litigious Legion of Doom convenes to organize their nefarious scheme for hijacking the 2008 Presidential Election. Their mastermind leader, the vile Lex Luthor leads the meeting…

Lex Luthor: In space, in the sky, under water, and on land, we, the Litigious Legion of Doom will do whatever it takes to fight our way to world domination! Our latest scheme: to ensure that the McCain campaign reigns victorious in key battleground states. Now we’re working pro bono on this one, but rest assured, if things tilt in our favor the rewards will be innumerable. We’re talking tax breaks across the board, rampant deregulation, the wanton destruction of the environment, and that’s just the beginning, my villainous friends. Rest assured, this election may be mandated by statute but the results will be tailored by us, the Litigious Legion of Doom! Now, first, a quick background check: has everyone here attempted world domination at least twice in their career?

Legion: [in unison] YES!

Luthor: And is everyone here legally allowed to practice law in the states of Ohio, Florida, and Pennsylvania?

Legion: [in unison] YES!

Luthor: Excellent, let’s get down to business then. Now many of you may have heard that we lost the assistance of Mr. Myxyzptlk last week when Joe Biden tricked him into spelling his name backwards and forced him back into the fifth dimension.

Black Manta: Ah damnit, not again! What a putz…

Luthor: Yes, he does keep falling for that, doesn’t he… But really, what can anyone expect from a supervillain who flunked the Massachusetts Bar Exam twice? Nonetheless, our villainous cause perseveres! Riddler, give us an update on your evil scheme in Ohio!

Riddler: I have sent out delightful riddles to potential voters in Ohio. All who fail to answer my riddles correctly are automatically registered as Republicans! Riddle me this: two fathers and two sons go fishing. Each of them catches one fish. So why do they bring home only three fishes? Don’t know? Hah, then you’re a registered Republican!

Luthor: Most devilish! Captain Cold, report in on your evil plans for Florida.

Captain Cold: I have secretly deployed my Freeze Ray in key Democratic strongholds in the state of Florida! The icy blasts will slow voting lines to a crawl! Those sun-baked fools won’t know what hit them! And then, I shall file an injunction to purge minority votes!

Luthor: Marvelous! Scarecrow you magnificent fiend, how are you going to instill fear and keep voter turnout low and in our favor?

Scarecrow: I shall terrify voters with my fear toxin and images of 9-11! My fear tactics will surpass even the exalted Rudolph Giuliani!

Luthor: Truly fiendish! What other nefarious plans do we have in motion?

Solomon Grundy: This election day, the undead truly shall rise from their graves to vote in Bucks County, Pennsylvania! Then I shall file suit in Federal court to prevent any potential machine recounts! Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday…

Luthor: Wonderfully sinister! Who’s next?

Bizzaro: Me am Bizzaro Superman! Me am going to stomp Demo-cat turnout!

Luthor: Look, can someone please keep an eye on this Bizzaro guy while I’m out? He’s not exactly the most reliable member of the Legion, and he’s only a paralegal for christsakes… the man is mushuganah. Moving on, who else has villainous designs to thwart Mr. Goody Two Shoes Obama from winning this election?

Sinistro: I have successfully orchestrated mass jailbreaks across the nation! Poorly educated felons are flocking to the polls to vote for Sarah Palin as we speak! We shall be victorious!

Lex Luthor: Excellent! And now for a report from the field! Everyone direct your attention to the viewing screen, for we have our crazed robotic mad scientist, Brianiac, live from Michigan!

Brianiac: [garbled & staticky picture] Ack, I’m under attack! My brainwashing scheme has failed! The Wonder Twins, they laid a trap! Send lawyers, guns and money! Ack! [picture cuts out]

Luthor: Gorilla Grodd, quickly, go deal with this! And be careful, there have been reports of the Martian Manhunter in disguise near polling stations in the area!

Gorilla Grodd: Arrrrrrr! Puny Wonder Twins, they are no match for my psychic powers and incredible strength! It shall be a fight to the death! [charges out of room]

Luthor: Damnit people, do I have to remind everyone of the stakes here? The League of Superfriends is all over this election already. Batman & Robin are in it for their precious gay rights. Aquaman is fretting about the silly rising sea levels. Green Lantern is a strong supporter of funding alternative energy. Wonder Woman just wants to fly around in her invisible plane on the taxpayers’ dime. Do you fools want to see this happen? The creation of this so called Justice League is a threat to our very existence! What are we going to do about this?

Black Manta: I have successfully hacked into the network of voting machines! This election is ours!

Luthor: Uh, well done Black Manta, but the McCain campaign has already taken care of that one for us. In fact, I’m just now receiving word that John McCain is conceding all battleground states in order to focus entirely on winning via Diebold.

Legion of Doom: [chanting in unison] Live Strong, Die Bold!

Luthor: That’s what I like to hear. Great meeting everyone, we’ve made a lot of progress. I’ll see everyone next week at the team-building corporate retreat, and I hope the “trust fall” exercise goes more smoothly than it did last year. We will now proceed to close our meeting in customary supervillain form!

Litigious Legion of Doom: [standing up and chanting in unison] Drill, baby, drill! Drill, baby, drill! Drill, baby, drill! Drill, baby, drill!

[posted at Humor Blogs]

Introducing the Second Annual Riding with Rickey Pumpkin Carving Competition

When it comes to whimsical arts and crafts, Rickey is nothing if not a fierce competitor. So last October, Rickey got all festive and whatnot and opted to run a pumpkin carving contest here at RwR. Yet despite the simple allure of holiday frivolity, we received exactly two submissions: Rickey’s and his younger brother’s. So in the spirit of fairness and to avoid a potential conflict of interest, the grand prize of ten pounds of assorted smoked fish went woefully unawarded. But this year, now that our readership has expanded a bit outside of Rickey’s immediate family, we’re giving this contest another shot. So welcome gang, to the 2008 RwR Halloween Jack-Off Invitational. The rules are fairly simple:

1) You carve a jack-o-lantern
2) You take a picture of aforementioned jack-o-lantern
3) You email this picture to Rickey at manofsteal@live.com
4) Rickey proceeds to judge your merits as a human being based solely on your ability to create art from an inanimate gourd

Fairly simple, n'est-ce pas? It’s good wholesome family fun, featuring knives, merciless competition, and the hefty assignment of scorn and ridicule. The submission deadline is Wednesday October 29th. The winner gets their jack-o-lantern photoshopped into a nifty composition of Rickey’s own creation. Now go forth and lobotomize yourself a cucurbita.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

In Which Rickey Welcomes the Tampa Bay Rays to Major League Baseball

Well hello there Rays, Rickey is pleased to meet you. Rickey had very little idea that baseball was still being played, you see. What’s that? You’ve made it all the way to the World Series, you say? Well golly. You’ll have to pardon Rickey’s mild indifference. Sure, you’re cute now (we hear good things about this Longoria chap) but please don’t become insufferable. In other words, you need to stop with the cowbell shtick.

You see Rays, the time has now come to dispense with the “we're just happy to have made it this far” attitude, because while it may have amused the 10 folks who showed up for your regular season games, we can assure that this smug managing of expectations will not pass muster with Rickey. No, you gentlemen have a serious responsibility now: the complete and utter decimation of the Philadelphia Phillies. (What a long and bitter road it has been since the 2008 Mets Season first kicked off, eh?)

Now let’s get one thing straight: Rickey resents rooting for an American League team. Rickey digs NL style small ball—bunting, stealing, hit & runs, you know, the fundamental principles of the game of baseball, blah, blah, blah... Clearly, it would take something monumental to sway us from our commonplace postseason allegiance. And that something is the burning desire to see Jimmy Rollins get run over by a 10 ton mack truck. Repeatedly. And as much as Phillies fans would just love to tell you that the Phillies are a perpetually beleaguered underdog of a team, their four pennants since 1980 speak otherwise.

You want a few pieces of advice from Rickey? Introduce Shane Victorino to the joy of traveling via Florida taxi cabs (see: Sanchez, Duaner 2006). Whenever possible, try to hit a ball in the general direction of Ryan Howard and his catlike reflexes. Break out your Chase Utley voodoo dolls. And finally, perk up a bit, because recent history suggests that long rests absolutely kill playoff contenders (see: Rockies, 2007 & Tigers, 2006). You’ve clawed your way into the World Series and Rickey’s counting on you to stop the Phillies in their tracks. Go get ‘em.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

Cooking with Rickey: Rickey’s Recession Blues Chili

In light of recent economic developments, there’s a lot of talk of belt tightening circulating right now. And while we always encourage thriftiness here at RwR, the one area where we refuse to cut back or make compromises is in the kitchen. So what if much like Brother Eli in “There Will Be Blood,” the good lord completely failed to alert you to the recent panic in the economy? Tonight you’re going to throw caution to the wind, open up that 401K,* cook up some chili and feast like some Texan land baron of old. Tonight, you’re bringing chili back.

*Please note that retirement planning suggestions from wayward lunatics impersonating famed athletes do not constitute sound financial advice. Please consult with your financial advisor before making any investment decisions.

Now yes, there are a plethora of chili recipes floating around the internets. Barack Obama even posted one, although much to Rickey’s concern, he states “can't reveal all the secrets” to his personal recipe. What exactly are you hiding Senator? Does your secret chili recipe contain illicit mood altering drugs, courtesy of the Weather Underground? Eh, but that’s neither here nor there. Rickey is confident that his chili recipe could easily trounce the competition, now matter how high, mighty, and connected with the Chicago underworld they may be.

A brief note on cooking paraphernalia: normally, Rickey would tell you that it matters very little what kind of cookware you use (witness Rickey’s stalwart aluminum Faberware pots and pans which get the job done just fine). But not in this case. For truly awesome chili, you need a cast iron dutch oven capable of evenly dispersing low heat throughout the pot—the sort of thing that Prometheus himself would cook on. Yes they’re incredibly heavy, they take up tons of space, and there’s the increased risk of flaked bits of iron ending up in your food, but look on the bright side: hasn’t your doctor been nagging you about getting more iron in your diet? And as an added bonus, cooking on a cast iron dutch oven allows you to pretend you’re a cowboy, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof.

Being unrepentant carnivores, we’ll kick things off with a discussion of the meats. Rickey likes to go a bit above and beyond the commonplace ground chuck. Behold, an assortment of meats that would make Dr. Robert Atkins’ arteries burst with joy:
You’re looking at only the choicest meats from Rickey’s local butcher: sirloin steak, fancy schmancy pork sausage, and 90% lean ground sirloin. And if you’re seeing this and are suddenly reminded of Upton Sinclair’s novel “The Jungle,” no, you are not alone. While this recipe calls for the use of grade-A meats, you’ll obviously need to work your way down the food chain as our economic climes increasingly worsen (we hear that raccoon meat is delectable). Below follows the complete list of items you’ll need to craft this chili:

1 pound cubed sirloin steak
1 pound ground sirloin
1 pound cut pork sausage
2 white onions, finely chopped
Several cloves of garlic, minced
Oregano tea (a half cup of hot water steeped with oregano for 30 minutes)
1 long green hot pepper, minced
1 cup beef stock
5 ounces of tomato sauce
½ ounce regular dark chili powder
2 ounces Gebhardt's chili Powder
1 ounce fresh ground cumin
1 teaspoon fresh ground coriander
1 tablespoon cocoa
2 cans of pinto beans (far superior to their kidney brethren, Rickey finds)
Cayenne pepper
Frank’s Red Hot Sauce
White pepper
Kosher salt

Start off by browning the meat in small batches in your dutch oven. This delicious meat slurry is the base around which you will craft the rest of this culinary masterpiece. To take a quote from the presidential campaign trail quote wildly out of context, the fundamentals of this chili are strong.

Next up, sauté the onions, minced pepper, and garlic for 10 minutes in a separate pan. When they’re done, add the regular dark chili powder and the Gebhardt’s chili powder. Then add this wondrous chili paste to the meat slurry in the dutch oven. If the mixture starts sticking to the pan, add a bit of beef stock to deglaze it. Cook for about 15 minutes.
Rickey finds that more than any other component of this recipe, fresh ground cumin and coriander are essential. Got a coffee bean grinder? How about a nearby Indian grocery store? Well then, you friend, are in business. Just remember to thoroughly clean out the coffee grinder when you’re done—cumin and coriander leave an incredibly pungent flavor residue which didn’t exactly enhance Rickey’s cup of joe this morning.

Next, add the ground cumin, coriander, tomato sauce, cocoa, and beef stock, mixing everything well. Cook this mixture for about 30 minutes. Then add the oregano tea. Cover your dutch oven and cook the chili over low heat about 2 hours or until the meat is tender, stirring occasionally. When cubed sirloin has consistency of butter, you’re just about finished.
During the last 30 minutes add the canned pinto beans. Then sample the goods and adjust the flavor with the salt, cayenne pepper, white pepper, and Frank’s Red Hot Pepper Sauce, if needed. These final seasonings are all to taste, so feel free to add as much or as little as you want—you’re the hero of this story, not us. Also, bear in mind that chili actually improves with time spent in the fridge. Rickey refers to this phenomenon as the “fermentation of awesomeness.” Rickey is a very technical man, as you can plainly tell.

When you’re all done, serve it up in an old timey soup bowl like the one pictured below. Top your chili with grated cheddar cheese. And sour cream. And bacon. And maybe a pot roast. Presto, Rickey’s recession blues chili. Feeds 8-10 hungry hungry investment bankers.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

The Goods Ain't Here

 ....they're here.  Proceed to the aforementioned link to read the thrilling conclusion of Rickey's gravitas laced interview with Chris of Angry Seafood.  We promise you that Rickey's stance on good mannered public niceties will have you thinking twice next time you shake hands with someone.  (We're told that in "the business" that last sentence is known as "the hook").  We'll be back with original thought tomorrow.  Rickey promises. 

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

Your Monday Morning Redirect

For you rubberneckers looking to further familiarize yourselves with the misbegotten madman responsible for RwR, Rickey was kind enough to sit down and answer a few questions for fellow blogger Chris over at Angry Seafood.  

Part one of Rickey's interview can be found hither.  Go there.  Sample the merriment. Stay for the didacticism!  And try not to dwell too much on the fact that this is essentially the blogging version of a reach-around.  

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

A Grave Matter of Questionable Political Association

You know, if there was going to be one thing that would cost Barack Obama Rickey’s invaluable vote, it wouldn’t have been the lack of experience, the cockiness, or the long-windedness. Something truly catastrophic would have to happen in order for Rickey to vote against Obama. We’re talking about a serious game changer here. And we think we’ve just stumbled upon it:

“Senator Barack Obama, the Democratic presidential nominee, has now come out for the Phillies in the National League playoffs against the L.A. Dodgers. Mr. Obama made his pick known at the end of a brief phone interview with a conservative Philadelphia radio host, Michael Smerconish. The interview was conducted Thursday and is to air Friday morning.” -The NY Times Caucus Blog, 10/9/08

Really Senator, the Phillies? Seriously? Well, fuck. You sir, have lost Rickey’s vote. Quick, is Nader on the ballot in New York? And how long until the McCain camp is using this image in their attack ads?Rickey puts it to you thusly: can we, the American people, trust a presidential candidate who supports a team like this? Rickey thinks not. We're sorry Senator, but endorsing the Philadelphia Phillies simply does not constitute change that we can believe in. If you ask us, Obama hitching his wagon to the Phillies caravan is a far more damning association that the Richard Ayers thing. Eh, at least he’s rooting for an NL team Rickey supposes… But come on now, Obama has totally opened the door for John McCain to pick the Dodgers and Maverick Manny Ramirez. Like we said, this is a major game changer.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

Your Weekly Political Linkage

One of the curious things about the McCain cabal is that as the election draws nearer, they increasingly behave like the velociraptors from “Jurassic Park,” testing the perimeter of the electric fence designed to contain then by angrily hurling themselves against it. The most recent example of this comes from one Cindy McCain (who as luck would have it, even resembles a raptor) as she said that “The day that Senator Obama decided to cast a vote to not fund my son while he was serving sent a cold chill through my body, let me tell you.” Hey Cindy, you know what gives Rickey a chill? Oxycontin addicted Stepford Wives who use their children’s military service for political gain. Rickey ain’t cool with that. And while we’re at it, let’s take a peek at some of the other developments transpiring in the wonderful world of politics that Rickey may or may not be cool with.

Little to Rickey’s surprise, the Richard Ayers talk continues to heat up. Pop quiz hotshots, what’s worse: what someone you know did when you were eight OR what you did when you were in your fifties with, uh, say… …Charlie Keating?

From the “Shit Yeah!” Department, the sheriff who pointedly used Barack Obama’s middle name in a recent Sarah Palin rally is being investigated by the government for violating federal election laws.

Transition team? Bah, John McCain cares not for your silly transition team. John McCain needs no training. Day one in the Oval Office, he’s going to whip out his balls and put them on the Resolute desk. Bam, there’s your fucking transition team.

Wishy washy liberals such as George Will and Michele Malkin have foolishly opted not to pledge their unwavering support and fealty to POW John McCain and instead have recently voiced their misgivings about him.

And in a complete surprise move, the NRA is endorsing John McCain. [Insert "cold dead hands" joke here.]

In the latest indication that the GOP has nominated the Manchurian Candidate to run for president, John McCain addressed a crowd by referring to them as “my fellow prisoners.” Delightful.

This week in voter fraud, the entire lineup for the Dallas Cowboys was discovered to have registered to vote in the state of Nevada. Rickey wonders, why couldn’t they take the Michael Vick route and use “Ron Mexico” instead?

Apparently, Barak Obama’s pronouncement of the word Pakistan bothers some people. That’s funny, because Rickey tends to pronounce the word as “I don’t give a flying fuck, I’m voting for the cool headed guy who doesn’t scare the living shit out of me”

Sarah Palin is dropping the puck at the Philadelphia Flyer’s home opener. And if Rickey knew or cared even the slightest bit about the sport of hockey, you’d better believe that Rickey would craft a brilliant sketch around this premise. But given the fact that the game is being played in one of the most union friendly and blue cities in the country, we’re assuming that the opening ceremony to the game will go something like this: “Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the Republican candidate for… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Remember, these people booed Santa…

Finally, the New Yorker has a fun article discussing the various buzzwords we’ve heard used by the candidates and the media over the course of this election. Rickey’s personal picks for phrases that require retiring: “sea change” and “perfect storm.” We are no longer a predominantly nautical civilization and our insipid political buzz phrases need to be adjusted accordingly.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

Your Weekly Political Rant: The “Cool Hand at the Tiller” Edition

We know, you’re thinking to yourself: “Hey Rickey, shouldn’t it be steady hand at the tiller?” And normally, it would be, if only John McCain had used the phrase properly in last night’s debate. But maybe we’re wrong about that (Rickey isn’t entirely up to speed on his medievalisms, you see). Also, we’re not entirely certain that a man who has crashed five U.S. aircraft should be bragging about possessing “cool hands” but that’s neither here nor there… Not that Obama was exempt from a few verbal gaffes of his own, most notably a phrase about “weatherizing” one’s house. But frankly, who cares? Rational people who aren’t intent on blowing us all sky high are allowed to make those sorts of errors. Overall, last night was a night to remember. A night of sterile talking points, dubious blame assignation, and the rampant use of colloquialisms. What does the practice of nailing Jell-O to a wall have to do with our economic crisis? Very little of course, unless you’re Bill Cosby and hellbent on winterizing your home with it in those cold winter months. And ye gods, are the people in Nashville dumb or what? Forget choosing a President, how are these people able to tie their shoes in the morning?

Friends, (if Rickey may borrow McCain’s pronoun of choice) there’s a massive difference between Sarah Palin’s homespun and down to earth style of speaking and John McCain’s. Palin excels at blathering in the modern day country manner of speaking. Her phrases conjure up thoughts of warm apple pies, deep fried turkey, and garish rustic wallpaper. McCain? Oh he’s homespun alright, but his mannerisms aren’t Country & Garden, they’re pure John Steinbeck. He traffics in codger speak. Weird, creepy, awkward, malevolent codger speak. And Obama? All he had to so was show up, sit down and be a cool cat while McCain wandered aimlessly about the stage. And then use that highfalutin liberal rhetoric of his to calmly hand John McCain his own ass. At this point, the McCain campaign is a wild ravenous beast that has tumbled off a cliff and is desperately clawing at every flimsy root on the way down. We almost feel a bit of sympathy for the guy: he clearly doesn’t want to end his political career by hitching his wagon to the Karl Rove populist iteration of the GOP. He’s not happy to be out there on the campaign trail at 72 years old selling this rehashed bullshit. You can read it in his face. And you’d better believe that when all this is said and done and John McCain fades from the political spotlight once again, he’s going to despise the Bushies even more for what they did to him in South Carolina in 2000. Is Rickey being overly optimistic? Perhaps, but we get the feeling that after last night's debate, an awful lot of Americans are going to be voting for "That One" come Election Day.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

Henry Paulson to Wall Street: "Repent Fuckers, The End Times Are Nigh"

Well fuck. Now the real fun begins, doesn’t it? Take heed assholes, for I am Henry "The Fist" Paulson and it is my civic duty to inform you that you are now entering bear country. The economic tsunami is upon us. A financial shitstorm of biblical proportions. How do I know this? Well there are of course a myriad of ways of measuring this nation's financial health, but personally, I like to jam my head up the economy's ass and see things firsthand for myself. How do I do this? Fuck you. It's all very technical, but it involves a ton of flat screen displays, some of that nifty warming KY stuff (for the economy's pleasure) and some Bachman-Turner Overdrive playing in the background. And after doing so, I have come to the conclusion that the economy is fucked. Look, I just spent an hour on the phone with Canada's frantic Minister of Finance. The grizzly prick is freaking. Is it my fault that this flanneled fuck hasn't upgraded his nation's economy to run on something other than maple syrup and flapjack revenue? Fuck no, it is not.

Now I know, I said the congressional bailout would stop the panic. That the Dow would bounce back. Well, things happened. The credit crisis worsened. Overseas markets slid. “Beverly Hills Chihuahua” came out this weekend. Shit happens. You goofy little fucks are probably hearing a lot of numbers being tossed around right now, so let me break it down for you in the simplest terms possible for your tiny lizard brains: a decade of wealth has evaporated in the span of a few weeks. Poof, gone, just like a David Copperfield magic act, only with a shitload more bears. We are no longer first in the global economy. And guess what third prize is? A set of steak knives and traumatic ocular fucking at the hands of Hank Paulson, that's what. Today the Dow dipped below 10,000. Remember where you were the last time the Dow Jones was at 10,000? I’ll fucking tell you: It was ’99 and “The Matrix” had just come out. Holy shit I loved that fucking movie. Neo was the balls. That bullet time thing melted my eyeballs and blew my fucking mind. Fuck yes.

But back to the matter at hand here douchenozzles. No longer will I play sugar daddy to pouting trollops in the banking system like yourselves. And pardon me if I don’t hold my breath for Congress’ latest offering to come through: "Bailout 2: Financial Boogaloo." What good would it do for you miserable pricks? All you want is another roll of the dice and another tilt of the roulette wheel. You think this shit affects me? Think again, fuckos, I moved all my money to razor blades and window ledge futures months ago. I’m rock solid. Sure, my neighbors called me crazy when I stared burying 55 gallon drums of ammo, rice, and black pepper in my back yard. Guess old Hank Paulson’s not so crazy now, eh? For tax purposes, I’ve started up my own religion with a few buddies from Bear Stearns and AIG. We worship hermit crabs. Each time one of ‘em switches shells, we have a crazy orgy. It’s terrific. I’m heavily invested in Ramen noodles and scurvy related medicines. I’m fucking bulletproof. What in the shit is that? Is that Sarah Palin on Fox News saying that the stock market hates America? This from the daffy broad who confuses “Trading Places” with the show where strangers come into your house and take down all the ceiling fans? Damn.

So good night and good luck you bastards. In the meantime, I’d be perfectly happy to share my own personal recipe for rock soup with you ingrates:

1) Rocks
2) Water

You put the rocks in the water, then you bring it a boil while attempting to fend off roaming bands of post apocalyptic ruffians. Presto, fucking rock soup. It’s a secret Paulson Family recipe, enjoy it in good health. Me? I prefer my hobo soup to consist of actual hobos. Which is why I’m polishing up my boomerang skills in anticipation of going hobo hunting in the coming weeks. I'll bet you shitheads haven't seen anyone hunt a hobo with a boomerang before. And something tells me there’s going to be a shitload of ‘em walking around. You want some high falutin’ financial advice? Brush up on your hunter-gatherer skills. Familiarize yourself with bartering. Get over your fondness for brand-name canned goods. Now pardon me while I go outside and chop some wood. And perhaps rob a local liquor store. Paulson, out.

[Vote for Rickey's post at Humor Blogs]

Your Monday Frivolity: In Which Rickey Discusses Cupcakes

This past Sunday, while Rickey lounged about on the couch watching the Giants utterly trounce the Seahawks, the illustrious Ms. Henderson got frisky and decided to try her hand at baking. Now we’re not sure if we’ve mentioned this before, but Ms. Henderson is a helluva terrific baker. Actual cooking? Uh, not so much (that’s Rickey’s domain). But give her a warm oven, some measuring cups, and a blender, and she goes completely apeshit. The recipe on tap? Why, strawberry cupcakes, of course. Now before you label Rickey a “tosser,” (like Rickey’s buddy did when Rickey informed him exactly what Rickey was eating), bear with us a minute here, ok? See, Rickey finds that cupcakes pair well with a six pack of Sam Adams Light and an afternoon spent on the couch watching some gridiron action. Yes, we also see the inherent contradiction at work here. Rickey is an exceedingly complicated man. Since Rickey doesn’t have the exact recipe on hand, here are a few of the items Ms. Henderson put in the mix that Rickey can vaguely recall:

For the Cupcake Batter:
Butter (fuck yes)
Sugar (come on you fools, do you want to live forever?)
Cake Flour
Vanilla Extract
Chopped Fresh Strawberries (aka, the only natural component in this entire recipe)

For the Frosting:
Yet More Butter (yes, we know: your poor, poor heart)
Cream Cheese (you can add low fat cream cheese like Ms. Henderson did, but at this point you’re pretty much polishing the brass rails on the Titanic. It’s all going down baby)
Stawberry Liqueur (which by the way, you need to drink a helluva lot of before you get a decent buzz going. Not that Rickey would know anything about that. Ahem).
More Chopped Fresh Strawberries
Zeus’ Semen (this may or may not be an actual ingredient, but based on how good these goddamnend things taste, we’re going to say yes it probably is).

The resulting product is the most balls out awesome dessert you’ve ever tasted. Imagine the taste of a fresh baked cookie with sweet chunks of berry goodness mixed in, topped off with a fantastically rich frosting. Whip up two dozen of these bad boys and you’ll be eating them at every possibly opportunity: while on the internet, while watching tv, while baking yet more cupcakes, while in the bathtub, etc. How does this jive with Rickey’s fitness kick? It absolutely fucking doesn’t. But Rickey is allowed to indulge himself periodically.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

Rickey Presents: The Vice Presidential Debate of Submisunderestimanation (AKA The Only Vice Presidential Debate Preview Worth Reading)

Hello, St. Louis and welcome to the Vice Presidential Debate! I’m Gwen Ifill, host of PBS’ “Washington Week” and I’ll be your moderator for this evening. I expect tonight’s debate to be an open and frank discussion on the unique challenges that we as a nation currently face, because ultimately, this is the best opportunity most voters will have to see the candidates speaking to the issues. But before we begin, I’d like to go over a few ground rules which will govern tonight’s proceedings:

Each vice presidential candidate will be allowed three minutes for an opening statement. Senator Biden, you’ve won the coin toss, so you’ll be going first. Feel free to kick things off with a long sustained primal scream. Governor Palin, remember that if the Senator from Delaware crosses the chalk line transecting the middle of the stage and threatens the welfare of the downs syndrome afflicted child you have hoisted proudly above your head, the debate rules allow you to tazer him to your heart’s content.

In an effort to maintain a civil tone, and after conferring with the FCC, we’ve put together a list of appellations which are strictly prohibited during this evening’s debate. These banned nicknames include but are not limited to: Sugartits, Old Balls, Backwoods Banshee, Windbag, Fertilla the Huntress, Rambler, Poor Man’s Eva Braun, Methuselah, Arctic Witch, Gene, Iditabroad, Cowardly Lion, and Caribou Barbie. For a complete listing of all banned nicknames, please refer to the handbooks located in your podiums, which also include detailed instructions on performing the Heimlich maneuver should one of you begin to choke on your own bile.

In order to enhance security measures Governor Palin, we have confiscated all your personal firearms. They will be returned to you at the conclusion of the debate. Senator Biden, you did not have any firearms that required confiscation, and we’re not entirely sure what you meant when you claimed that you “used to bulls-eye womprats in your T-16 back home.”

You’ll notice that we’ve provided each of you with a glass of water to drink from during the debate. The last thing we want is either of you getting parched. Senator Biden, if you wish to utilize your glass of water to perform a dramatic spit-take whenever Governor Palin leaves off the ‘g’ in her words or claims that proximity to Russia constitutes foreign policy experience, by all means, go right ahead.

Halfway through the debate, we will recess for a five minute commercial break. During that time, both the Democratic and Republican campaigns will air commercials proclaiming themselves the undisputed victors of the debate and urge viewers not to even bother voting in the upcoming election. Also, there will be a commercial for “HeadOn!”

During the debate, transmissions from hidden electronic devices are strictly prohibited. Yes, this also includes transmissions from Jesus, Governor Palin. So if you start speaking in tongues like DeNiro at the end of “Cape Fear,” I’m pulling the plug on the whole shebang, got it?

And now a brief word on dress code. Governor Palin, I see you have forsaken your usual moose pelt and have instead chosen to wear one of your signature Star Trek outfits to the debate. And are those John McCain’s war medals you have pinned on your chest? Excellent. Senator Biden, while I question your decision to dress up like a warlock, it is not prohibited by the current guidelines laid forth by the Commission on Presidential Debates. I assume you are wearing pants under that robe, yes?

[Awoooooo—gaaaaaa!]

Ah yes, Governor Palin I see you’ve discovered the soundboard that we’ve installed in your podium. In an effort to keep your statements impactful and intelligible, we’ve borrowed the sound effects board from the Z100 “Morning Zoo” and are encouraging you to make use of it throughout the debate. Each button is programmed to play certain buzz phrases such as: “liberal media elites,” “hard workin’ Americans,” and “nobody lays pipeline better than the J-Man!” Also, there’s a vast assortment of clown horn sound effects to pick from, should you feel so inclined. So there’s really no need for you to speak at all for most of the debate (in fact, for coherence’s sake, your handlers are discouraging it).

Excuse me, Senator Biden, please settle down. This does not constitute an unfair advantage for Governor Palin. As you’ll recall, this was the compromise we reached after your campaign vehemently demanded that we scrap the tractor pull/swimsuit competition portion of the debate.

Moving on, in the event of a fire occurring in the debate hall, please proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest emergency exit. The debate will resume once firefighters have extinguished the remains of Ron Paul’s self-immolated corpse.

In the event of an earthquake, please quickly proceed to the nearest doorframe or similar load bearing fixture. During the earthquake, Governor Palin will be allocated two minutes to attempt to explain how rehabilitating the nation’s crumbling infrastructure fits in with the 21% spending freeze proposal that John McCain recently pulled out of his ass.

In the event of Jesus suddenly manifesting himself in the midst of the debate, each candidate will be allotted an extra three minutes to loudly exclaim "holy shit, it's Jesus!" and recant all their earthly transgressions. Following the airing of recantations, Jesus will escort the Governor of Alaska from the building and into the heavenly firmament above while the rest of us await our swift fiery retribution in an orderly fashion.

And this concludes the ground rules for this evening’s debate. Good luck, and please try not to say something so emotionally cripplingly stupid that it makes our viewers at home want to stab out their eyes with a pen. Yes, I’m looking at you, Gidget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: For those looking for further amusement, today's McSweeney's post, "The Expectations Game" does a brilliant job of spoofing the lowered expectations talk we've been hearing from the campaigns in recent days leading up to tonight's debate. Enjoy the debate folks, and consider the comments section open for a fair and balanced discussion on tonight's festivities. We'll leave you with your hyper-partisan motivational quote of the day:

"Let's show this prehistoric bitch how we do things downtown" -Peter Venkman, "Ghostbusters"

[Vote for Rickey’s post at Humor Blogs]