Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Happy Thanksgiving From Rickey

We thought you should be aware that tonight is Thanksgiving Eve. And tomorrow by default is Thanksgiving proper. Rickey, for one, absolutely loves the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, mostly because it is widely considered by bon vivants like Rickey to be the biggest drinking night of the year. This of course makes sense; everyone is off of work the next day and their only obligation (unless they’re cooking) is to lie around and overeat, something that is entirely not a problem for Rickey. So tonight we get our drink drank on. Tomorrow, a cornucopia of food shall be prepared, sound dietary practices shall be ignored, the gym shall be shunned, and the fifteen pounds of excess fat that Rickey replaced with lean muscle shall make a brief holiday return.

How does Thanksgiving at Rickey’s parents’ house work? Surprisingly, much like yours. Typically, Rickey’s brother will fly up from Florida, Rickey will drive him up north to their parents’ house, and they will be quickly greeted by their father who storms out of the garage like Patton and presents them with a list of home improvement projects have been waiting for the Henderson boys to return home and complete.

“Alright, here’s the situation: the chainsaw won’t start, the tv needs to be fixed, the attic needs to be cleaned, the foundation on the southeast corner of the house is sinking, and a raccoon stole my pants.”

Uh, yeah Dad, good to see you too, Happy Thanksgiving. Naturally, Rickey’s mind is now sounding with klaxons screaming “Warning! Manual labor is imminent! Manual labor is imminent! Avoid at all costs!” and Rickey will make a hasty retreat inside the house, pour himself a libation, and sit by the fireplace and relax while watching his brother outside chopping wood, schlepping rocks, or resetting the foundation on the southeast corner of the house. (This is probably a big reason why Rickey’s younger brother is celebrating Thanksgiving in Florida this year).

And while relaxing by the fire and thoroughly enjoying a day which places absolutely no expectations on the individual other than gorging themselves silly and watching football, Rickey likes to mull over some of the things for which he is thankful. This year is no exception. In no particular order, these items are:

-Pointed sarcasm
-Not being stuck in an airport
-Thom Yorke
-Broadband internet
-The New Yorker
-Kosher dill pickles
-Johan Santana
-The pill
-Stainless steel coffee mugs
-Maker’s Mark
-The “let them soak” trick of avoiding washing pots & pans after Thanksgiving
-Not having to sell pencils or move into a Hooverville
-Coworkers who don’t click “reply all”
-The sound rain makes at night
-Dress socks
-President-Elect Barack Hussein Obama
-“This American Life”
-Halo 3
-Knowing which way is North
-Friends, family, loved ones, blah blah blah…
-Dogfish Head Beer
-Apple products
-The Colbert Report
-Calvin Klein aftershave face balm
-Large dogs
-The bacon of the month club
-Adriana Lima
-Modern Democracy
-Rickey’s job (seriously)
-Not having Adam Sandler’s “Thanksgiving Song” stuck in his head
-Lucky Brand Jeans
-Dave Eggers
-Rickey’s readers

That’s right, Rickey is thankful for you, Rickey’s dear sweet gentile readers. For showing up, saying hello, and giving Rickey a forum to rant in. Rickey appreciates it. And because he does, Rickey is tagging all you folks for this meme. So sit down and blog about a list of things you’re thankful for. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn a little bit about yourself. Have a safe and happy holiday everyone.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Sunday, November 23, 2008

"No Mr. Bond, I Simply Have Eight Cats" AKA, Rickey Reviews Quantum of Solace

"Quantum of Solace" kicks off very much in medias res, with an imperiled James Bond being pursued by nameless bad guys in a high octane car chase scene that would make most defensive driving instructors crawl into the fetal position and weep softly. At the end of the chase, Bond solemnly exits what was once a beautiful Aston Martin, leaving behind the wrecked car and any preconception that audience might have had that this is a traditional James Bond movie. This is because "Quantum of Solace" is more a revenge tale than a spy thriller. The films picks up exactly where "Casino Royale" left off, as a vengeful James Bond seeks retribution for the death of his lover Vespa in the previous film. In this iteration of bond, you'll find no Q designed gadgets, no cocky one liners, and very little sex. It's almost as if the writers for the film convened and agreed that under no circumstances would they give Mike Meyers any material to use for another horrid Austin Powers movie.

And in that they definitely do succeed. The film is fast, sleek, taut, and completely replete of the charm that makes a Bond movie a bond movie. Sure, there's a lot of globe hopping, and Bond does get his passport stamped more times than most of us will in a decade, but it's somewhat unnerving to see him moodily drinking alone in an airplane bar in one scene. Does the inevitable next installment tackle his worrisome drinking problem? What humor does manage to bubble to the surface of the film comes from Bond's serial inability to capture bad guys rather than kill them. The action scenes in the film are fast and furious to say the least and Rickey found himself needing a break from "Quantum of Solace's" strenuously over edited action scenes. (a modicum of respite, if you will). One wonders: if a movie director sets up 37 cameras to record an event and splices the footage together into an incomprehensible fragmented mess, did the event actually occur in the first place?

As Bond, Daniel Craig performs admirably. The problem here is that unlike the previous movie, this script casts him as a blunt instrument hellbent on revenge, rather than a spy in his formative stage. Everything Rickey enjoyed in "Casino Royale" -- all the suaveness of a movie revolving around something as simple as a game of cards -- seems to have been cast aside as this movie expands it's scope to the global scale. For a Bond flick that clearly tries so hard not to be a Bond flick, there's a surprising amount of cliches lingering in it: the prerequisite reptilian villain with a nefarious global plan (although it is a fitting and timely one), the tough as nails female sidekick, and the fiery climax at the bad guy's sleek futuristic hideout. To the movie's credit, it features a great nod to a certain scene from "Goldfinger," the locales that Bond traipses to are adequately exotic, and the acting is strong all around, although Rickey felt that Jeffrey Wright was criminally underused. But what bugged Rickey the most is that for all it's rooftop acrobatics (when did parkour become part of the MI6 training program?) and whiz bang action, the film just boiled down to a simple and shallow revenge tale.

From a grating opening credits sequence (new rule: Jack White and Alicia Keys aren't allowed in the same room together ever again) until the fierce display of pyrotechnics in the finale, the movie just didn't do it for Rickey. Not that we don't see what they're trying to do: writing a three movie story arc that delves into how James Bond becomes James Bond. And while yes, we're sure that the third will be just, like, totally awesome, we wonder if all the brooding exposition was necessary in the first place. What's wrong with introducing a protagonist who is fully fledged? Why do movie studios have to expend the GDP of a small nation before they actually get to the good stuff: a beloved character acting like the audience expects them to? Because if they're not going to make a fun Bond movie, well ...a reportedly $230 million budget would've gone a long way to help ameliorate the global crisis that "Quantum of Solace" focuses on...

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Thursday, November 20, 2008

Your Weekly Linkage

…in which Rickey culls the internet for only the choicest links with the intention that maybe, just maybe, the handful of misanthropes that come by this site daily might actually click on ‘em and use the vast knowledge contained herein to somehow better themselves. (No luck so far). Bon appetite, fuckwits.

It is at moments like this that we get a little emotional about the inspirational heights of human innovation: a beer dispenser that pours ten pints in ten seconds. Shit yes.

Rickey would be a whole lot more willing to heed Governor Patterson’s dire economic lamentations if his office hadn’t splurged on a $21,000 antique Turkish rug. Does the rug really tie the room together, Governor? And more importantly, how the fuck would you know?!

From the curious state of Florida, a deputy chose to detain a man’s Xbox in lieu of giving him a speeding ticket. Apparently, those Floridian law enforcement folks just love the GTA IV...

Never in a million years did Rickey think that a craze would come along that would make him nostalgically yearn for the good old Harry Potter days. And yet it has: Twilight, the latest tween sensation. Is debating the merits of mass genocide against an entire age group a bad thing?

MLB has set a December 1 deadline for any offers to buy the Chicago Cubs. Hm, Rickey has long dreamed of owning a professional baseball team. Rickey wonders, will a bid of $39.95 seal the deal?

Chuck Norris, for one, is overwhelmingly glad that Californians voted to ban gay marriage. Stay classy, Chuck. (See, this is why Rickey is more of a Jack Bauer fan).

Pirates are back! And they’ve become infinitely more badass! At least something good has come from the destabilization over in Somalia, right? Please please please let CNN broadcast some sort of pirates vs ninjas showdown in the immediate future…

Is anyone else just a little bit weary of the spineless Democratic party? First they give Joe Lieberman a pass and now they’re considering Hillary Clinton for the Secretary of State? And don't believe a bit of the hype about this vetting process--the only reason Clinton hasn't been officially announced is because she's playing her cutesy "will she?/won't she?" game with the media. Sigh...

It’s been a 17 year wait, but the long awaited Guns & Roses album Chinese Democracy hits store shelves in two days. The last time we saw a new GnR offering? Yeah, gas cost less than $1 per gallon. Chances are it won’t cure cancer, but early reviews are sounding pretty good.

Oh look, a spider taken up to the international space station has woven a wacky looking web! Of course this will all seem much less amusing when our intergalactic arachnid overlords intercept the web’s message and come a knockin’.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Your Begrudging Mets Update: the Obligatory Hot Stove Edition

We know, you’re thinking: “hot stove talk, really?” You care not for frivolous trade rumors. Your loins aren’t adequately girded for this sort of discussion, are they? Your fan psyche is still in pieces following yet another clusterfuck late season collapse. Well to lift your sprits, behold, a glorious aerial shot of the lush new grass turf that was recently installed in Citifield:
Most excellent—everything is proceeding according to plan. Like all good Mets fans, we are heartened by this sight and take solace in Omar Minaya’s relentless desire to populate this fabulous new stadium with a fierce gang of paper tigers. This offseason like all others, we eagerly anticipate the Mets’ time honored tradition of free agent pursuit: posturing as a competitive presence in the offseason race, screwing themselves out of signing a bona fide player, acquiring a handful of reclamation head cases for long term deals, and heading to spring training with the exact same weaknesses they had last season, plus few more for good measure. Can you not sense Rickey’s fervent excitement for the 2009 season?

This season’s hot stove story line revolves around the Mets’ hunt for a closer named Francisco Rodriquez. A man whole primary purpose would be to distract Mets fans from the fact that they’ll be paying one William Wagner $10 million next year to stay at home and watch the Jeff Foxworthy Show. And while Rickey appreciates the kind gesture on Omar Minaya’s part, it would be even nicer if there were eight versions of Francisco Rodriguez to fill the gaping spiritual void that is the Mets bullpen. Where exactly does one go shopping for an entire bullpen? The Rays? But wait, it gets better. Oh so much better. Per today’s Newsday:

“The Mets had no interest in Jeremy Affeldt, who signed yesterday with the Giants for a reported two-year, $8-million deal, and they have not yet focused much attention on upgrading the rest of the their bullpen. As for Affeldt, one team official explained that the Mets already have two lefthanders in the pen, which suggests that Pedro Feliciano and Scott Schoeneweis are still considered part of that mix.”

Oh no. Oh please no. How many years of this shitty bullpen is Rickey going to have to endure? Look, there are many things in which Pedro Feliciano and Scott Schoeneweis might be considered “part of the mix.” In no particular order, they are:

1) Arguments against players' rights to unionize
2) Rickey’s rotation of night terrors
3) The cast of village ruffians at a colonial theme park
4) The ever widening list of items that compel Rickey to drink

But please, not another season with these bums, Rickey can’t stomach it. And as for the Yanks’ relentless pursuit of C.C. Sabathia… well we imagine that the Mets are already completely out of contention for nabbing him. Sources deep inside the Mets clubhouse inform us that Omar Minaya’s interest in him quickly disappeared upon being informed that he is neither Dominican nor 85 years old.

Honestly, we’re just a few scant months away from Dr. Walter Bishop from “Fringe” taking over as GM of the Mets… And yes, it would be an upgrade.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Monday, November 17, 2008

Your Weekly Nerdery

A disclaimer: Rickey is not a huge Star Trek guy. Call Rickey nuts, but repeatedly hearing the phrase “shields down to 59 percent!” just doesn’t float his boat. In fact, most of Rickey’s Trek knowledge originates from repeatedly watching “Galaxy Quest,” a film which is virtually guaranteed to be playing on your cable lineup no matter what time it is or where you live. If you were to put a phaser to his head, Rickey couldn’t tell you the difference between a tribble and a Talarian. Being a sage blogger, Rickey generally avoids talking about Star Trek here at RwR for fear of saying something canonically inaccurate and riling up the cultish sect of hardcore Trekkies that we suspect are lurking in the comments section. Perhaps it’s because Rickey can’t get overly excited about tired old properties. Perhaps it’s because the Trek universe is strangely devoid of Jews (in addition to cancer, apparently Jewishness will be cured by the 23rd century). Whatever the reason for Rickey’s mild Trek distain may be, we’d also be willing to wager that the mainstream public just doesn’t get Star Trek (or want to, for that matter).

But from what Rickey can remember from a handful of The Next Generation episodes, Star Trek is at its best when it functions as a compelling space naval drama rather than a mindless shoot ‘em up (see Battlestar Galactica for an example of how to do things). And that’s why the whiz bang trailer released online today doesn’t exactly do it for Rickey. Horatio Hornblower in space this most definitely is not. Take a gander.

In Rickey’s humble geek opinion, they’re swinging the pendulum the other way and are reaching too far for mass appeal. If Rickey wants to see a Paramount movie featuring overwrought fight scenes and goofy looking aliens, he’ll check out the latest Indiana Jones travesty, thank you very much. And like we said, Rickey’s not even a Star Trek enthusiast—we’re guessing that most of the die hard fans will interpret this trailer as an open declaration of war. Rickey’s advice to the studios: you want to make a Star Trek movie? Then make an honest to goodness Star Trek movie (but don’t blame Rickey when it grosses $12 million domestic on its opening weekend). This rehash exemplifies horrible concepts, violates the artistic integrity of the property, and represents a cheap attempt to cash in on a beloved geek property... and Rickey will certainly not be in line at the first showing at the City Center 15 Cinemas in White Plains, New York. No sir. Ahem. (Ms. Henderson is a Karl Urban fan, so Rickey will most likely be required to see this. That’s Rickey’s excuse and he’s sticking to it).

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Thursday, November 13, 2008

Dr. Henderson, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Read the Prescription Label

In this helpful column, Rickey will draw upon his vast medical knowledge to answer readers’ questions on a variety of health issues. And while this medical knowledge consists primarily of being engaged to a registered nurse and occasionally watching the network drama “House,” Rickey nonetheless feels supremely confident that he can properly diagnose whatever queries you might throw at him. So cast aside any wariness you might have, because Rickey is board-certified in midichlorian analysis as well as a practicing medieval barber (let’s see that impotent little punk Sanjay Gupta make that claim). And now, onward to the questions!

1) Rickey, are you actually a real doctor? Sean, NM

As the good folks at the Isla Health Clinic in Guam, and on the Craigslist message boards can all attest to, fuck yes. And it’s Dr. Henderson to you, douchebag.

2) Doctor, I’m experiencing a slight tingling sensation in my left thumb. What’s your prognosis? Jill, CA

That could be anything really. Feel free to check out WebMD. They’ll be perfectly happy to diagnose you with Lupus no matter what your symptoms may be.

3) Doctor, I’m suffering from joint pain, red rashes, chest pain, and an unusual loss of hair. What’s wrong with me? Robert, NV

Uh, that actually is Lupus. Go get that checked out, pronto.

4) Dr. Henderson, I just sat down and opened my 401K statement. Perhaps you could help me pick out scalpel with which I can remove my eyes. Martin, NY

For this task, Dr. Henderson recommends a scalpel blade #10 with a curved cutting edge and flat back. It’s the ideal implement for the job, and it won’t drain your bank account.

5) Dr. Henderson, I’m considering stopping by your clinic for a check up, but am wondering what kind of music you play in your waiting room? Betty, NJ

Excellent question, as proper aural ambiance is an integral component of any reputable medical office. To ensure an air of professionalism, Dr. Henderson keeps Georgia Satellite's classic song “Keep Your Hands to Yourself” on constant loop.

6) Dr. Henderson, what’s with all this talk of Tony Romo making a "speedy recovery"? I'm worried that this might counteract the power of my voodoo doll. Brad J., TX

Fret not, Brad. Tony Romo will suffer a setback of botched surgery following a thorough but ultimately unsuccessful search for his scrotum.

7) Dr. Henderson, what kind of medical provisions do you recommend that I keep on hand in my house? Meredith, OH

Many doctors will tell you that a basic first aid kid consisting of band aids, gauze, and antiseptic lotion is the way to go. However, Dr. Henderson recommends that you skip all the hypochondriac worrying and just stock your kit with a bottle of bourbon and a gag springy snake toy to jump out at you when you open the kit. Hurt? Surprise, here’s a snake! And some booze to numb the pain!

8) Dr. Henderson, I’m currently in mild labor and wanted to hop on a plane and swing by your office and give birth once I finish up this important speech on the vast spiritual benefits of natural gas pipelines. Are you free this afternoon? Anonymous, AK

For the last time Governor Palin, no.

9) Dr. Henderson, I’m stuck in a boring job, upset with the world, realizing that I might not become a movie star, and generally fed up with my life. My sense of disillusionment with the world has been piqued, and my color palette is trending toward blue. What ails me? Brian, TN

Sounds to Dr. Henderson like you're suffering from acute ennui. To cure your affliction, Dr. Henderson invites you to join him on a journey. You’ll visit distant and dangerous places, weep with people you’ve never met and learn things you never expected. All you need is a set of ears and your imagination. Either that, or just start listening to the “This American Life” podcast. There’s some damned riveting stuff there.

10) Dr. Henderson, my prescription medicine costs are skyrocketing and I can no longer afford my pills. What should I do? Wilma, FL

Have no fear, Dr. Henderson knows a guy who will provide you with your Rx needs, no questions asked. You might question the reputation of this fellow, but look, if you can't trust a guy under a bridge with a satchel and a willingness to dole out medical supplies, who can you trust?

11) Dr. Henderson, are you perchance, Jewish? Oy, doctor, have I got a daughter for you! Ruth, CT

Rickey thanks you madam, but the good doctor is happily engaged.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Wednesday, November 12, 2008

He's Not a Right Winger He's Just GOP-Curious, AKA, The Joe Lieberman Situation

The following is an excerpt from the book “State Names, Flags, Seals, Songs, Birds, Flowers, and Other Symbols” by George Earlie Shankle:

"The sobriquet, the Nutmeg State, is applied to Connecticut because its early inhabitants had the reputation of being so ingenious and shrewd that they were able to make and sell wooden nutmegs. Some claim that wooden nutmegs were actually sold, but they do not give either the time or the place.”

And we bring this piece of trivia up for absolutely no other reason other than to highlight the curious stupidity of a loathsome state that repeatedly elects Joe Lieberman to serve as it’s Senator. Well done you nutjob nutmeggers. As a state, you collectively rose up, said to yourselves, “hey, some of my best friends are Jewish!” and proceeded to send Joe Lieberman to Washington …four goddamned times. Apparently Joe Lieberman has some sort of bet going to determine how stupid you voters in Connecticut really are and true to your state’s history, you have sold the nation a useless wooden nutmeg. So now that the winds of charge are blowing a bit more briskly, let’s chat about a few things that might be giving a few of you folks a touch of buyer's remorse, shall we?

First up is his voting record. According to Senator Harry Reid, "Sen. Lieberman votes with Democrats 85 or 90 percent of the time, except when it comes to Iraq and some national security issues." Indeed, just a few minor quibbles here and there. Stuff like war and peace. No biggie. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, eh Harry? Nothing wrong with a guy who over the past four years has emerged as a heroic figure among Republicans for having risked his Senate seat to support President George W. Bush's war policy, no sir. We’re not sure about you Mr. Reid, but Rickey has grown just a tad weary of listening to recent Bush speeches touting that he was acting on “the good advice of Senator Joe Lieberman.”

Then there’s the Israel issue. Sorry Joe, but you can’t hop in bed with the AICPAC lobby and not expect the right wing media to completely fall in love with you. They’ll go apeshit for anyone that provides them with the opportunity to wave a flag and lob a few patriot missiles somewhere foreign sounding (if the Rainbow Coalition or LGBTA wanted to invade Moldavia, you’d better believe Sean Hannity would happily take ‘em under his wing). And so thanks in no small part to the efforts of Joe Lieberman, phrases like “a friend of Israel” or “Israel’s right to defend herself” have become wink wink nudge nudge statements to pander to the neocon constituency, a development for which Rickey cares not.

And furthermore, Rickey, despite being a wayward Jew, cares not for the generalization that the beliefs of all Jews are encapsulated by Joe Lieberman. Closed door meetings anointing Joe Lieberman to be our golem avenger were not held, primarily because there are quite a wide ranging variety of Jews roaming the planet. There are socially progressive Jews, economically progressive Jews, socially conservative Jews, economically conservative Jews, Peacenik Jews, Security Hawk Jews, "Whomever is Best for the Jews" Jews, Stubborn Jews, Flexible Jews, Bossy Jews, Whiny Jews, and many combinations thereof, the degrees of which may vary on any given day. As the old adage goes: "put three Jews in a room, and you'll get eight different opinions." And Rickey would wager that if here were to take a poll, he’s find that Joe Lieberman is about as popular with Jews as Mel Gibson or smoked bacon. And just because we didn’t use the word frequently enough in this paragraph: “Jews!”

See, most people of the Jewish faith read the Torah and are inspired to do good and charitable things. A smaller group of people read the Torah and are inspired to invade countries, threaten to invade other countries, and all around just love going to war and blowing shit up. Joe Lieberman is one of the latter. And yet, Joe Lieberman also thinks it’s kosher to pal around with a guy like John Hagee, a level minded fellow who in the wake of Katrina stated “I believe that New Orleans had a level of sin that was offensive to God, and they were recipients of the judgment of God for that.” Joe Lieberman supports the Alberto Gonzales policy on the shirking of the Geneva Convention provisions. Joe Lieberman wants to prevent people from being able to play violent videogames. (Yes, some of you might agree with him on that last point, but goddamnit if squeezing the right trigger on his Xbox 360 controller and causing the heads of Locust Horde members to vaporize into riotous explosions of brain matter in Gears of War 2 is wrong, then sweet fancy moses, Rickey doesn’t want to be right. If an NRA existed for gamers, Rickey would totally be a card carrying member).
Ultimately, Joe Lieberman is a man who when asked if he received ''talking points'' from the McCain campaign or the Republican National Committee, replied: ''I usually don't.'' What, like not on the Sabbath? Do you not answer Karl Rove’s phone calls on Shomer Shavis, Senator? Well we certainly hope you had a blast with Mr. McCain and Lindsey Graham on the 2008 campaign trail, because the road trip is now officially over.

Many bloggers have chimed in recently on just what to do about Joe Lieberman. Mr. Furious channeled his inner Michael Corleone and proposed that Lieberman be taken on a fishing trip, an idea that dovetails nicely with the now infamous “kiss of death” that Bush gave Lieberman after the 2005 State of the Union Address. (All Neo-Hawks are closet queens, we tells ya). And fellow blogger Statler got appropriately pissed and wrote up this gem on Whiny Joe. But what does Rickey suggest be done? Stripping him of his chairmanship of the Senate Homeland Security Committee is a decent start. But how about banishing him to wander the desert for 40 years? We hear that the desert life in the Southwest, possibly Arizona, is a character building environment. The idea just might gain a little, shall we say …Joementum.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

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Monday, November 10, 2008

Your Monday Whimsy: The Movie Quotes Meme

We originally ran this meme a few months ago and figured it was worth bringing back for an encore performance. In short, it is an opportunity for our readers to flex their sizable geek muscles. As you movie savvy individuals correctly identify the quotes' cinematic origins in the comments section below, Rickey will cross them off and give credit where credit is due. And no cheating, you unscrupulous bastards (i.e., Googling). Either you're sufficiently culturally plugged in to know these quotes or you're not. Every up to speed? Good, because no one is going home until all the quotes are properly identified. Here we go:

1) “These, Tom, are the Causeheads. They find a world-threatening issue and stick with it for about a week.” PCU (Smitty)

2) “Oh, I've been to Prague. Well, I haven't ‘been to Prague’ been to Prague, but I know that thing, that, ‘Stop shaving your armpits, read the Unbearable Lightness of Being, date a sculptor, now I know how bad American coffee is' thing...” Kicking and Screaming (Adam)

3) “You're a brave man. Go and break through the lines. And remember, while you're out there risking your life and limb through shot and shell, we'll be in be in here thinking what a sucker you are.” Duck Soup (George)

4) “Somewhere around 25, bizarre becomes immature.” Singles (George)

5) “What, are you crazy? A man in a really nice camper wants to put our song on the radio. Give me a pen. I'm signing, you're signing, we're all signing.” That Thing You Do (Adam)

6) “Hell of a thing, killin' a man. Take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have.” Unforgiven (Renalfailure)

7) "Would you say I have a plethora of presents Jefe?” The Three Amigos (Renalfailure)

8) “Say what you will about the tenets of National Socialism, at least it's an ethos.” The Big Lebowski (Renafailure)

9) "They cut the power? How could they cut the power? They're ANIMALS man!!!" Aliens (Renalfailure)

10) “You lewd, crude, rude, bag of pre-chewed food dude.” Hook (Statler)

11) “I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.” Almost Famous (Alex)

12) “This is no time for Schopenhauer. This is important.”

13) "One man is not enough, she's gotta have a convention!" At the Circus (Statler)

14) “It's a trick. Get an axe.” Army of Darkness (Renalfailure)

15) "Good work, get some sleep, I'll most likely kill you in the morning." Princess Bride (Erik)

16) “I didn't invent the rainy day, man. I just own the best umbrella.” Almost Famous (Alex)

17) “In my opinion, all men are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age.” About a Boy (George)

18) “You're not the anti-Christ. You're only a malcontent who knows how to spell.” Quills (Haley)

19) "The central message of Buddhism is not 'every man for himself'" A Fish Called Wanda (Smitty)

20) "Calling it your job don't make it right, Boss." Cool Hand Luke (Renalfailure) Again. Way to spam the contest and prevent anyone else from partaking in the fun buddy...

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

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Friday, November 7, 2008

Rickey Recommends

This is where Rickey posts recommendations of noteworthy consumables, practices, and pastimes that have been deemed invaluable for the reader’s betterment. All products and pieces of advice listed herein have been Rickey tested and approved. Again, this is in no way shape or form a complete rip off of McSweeney’s (fa-la-la-la-la, lawyers, Rickey can’t hear you). Enjoy our latest installment of


Fruit Smoothies. Yes, we know, you like food that you can chew on but trust us, eventually your body will grow used to this healthy liquid meal. Rickey kicks off his day each and every morning with a smoothie consisting of soy milk, Fage 0% yogurt, a banana, some strawberries, and whey powder. It’s tasty, nutritious, and comes complete with the air of moral superiority that you are being one seriously healthy motherfucker.

Listening to Conservative Talk Radio. Indeed, it’s crazy talk, but 77 WABC and several other Clear Channel affiliates are on the presets on Rickey’s car stereo. Why is this? Part of the reason is because Rickey likes knowing that the other side is up to. Rickey drives home on his way to work, listens to the right wing bloviating, and mentally adds to the list of ways in which he is superior than these people. But the major reason for Rickey dialing in to Rush Limbaugh or Mark Levin is that they’re massively entertaining. Want to know why Air America failed? Liberals aren’t fun to listen to. We’re just not organized enough to put together a coherent program. And while Rickey may disagree with anything uttered over the air on Conservative Talk Radio, they do put on some damned amusing shows.

Volunteering your time to a charitable cause. We know, you’re too busy fretting over your dwindling 401K to do some frivolous charity work, but here’s a newsflash for you Mortimer: the ranks of the genuinely impoverished are growing larger each day. Drop off your clothes at a local Salvation Army, donate some blood, get involved in your local community, whatever it is you choose to do, it makes a difference. And it’s good for you.

Not putting away the BBQ grill just yet. Did our ancient ancestors cease grilling their meats merely because it got chilly outside? Fuck no, they’d carve off a piece of brontosaurus and throw it on the grill even if it was January. Rickey likes grilling well into the fall months—there’s something nice about putting a jacket on and cooking up some brats while warming yourself in front of the red hot coals.

Savoring the sound a large book makes when it’s snapped shut. Satisfying to those who know it’s coming, and yet scary to those who do not.

“Valerie Plame” by the Decemberists. One might argue that the story of a former CIA agent whose cover was blown by a vindictive administration hell-bent on war wouldn’t make for such a great song. And yet, one would be stupifyingly wrong because this catchy new indie single is pretty damned good. We’re not sure about you, but Rickey cannot wait for the new Decemberists album to come out.

“Duke Nukem 3D” for the Xbox 360 Arcade. Hail to the king baby, the all time greatest shooter ever has landed on Rickey’s console of choice, and we’re pleased to inform you that this port comes complete with the cavalcade of violence and politically incorrect material you remember from the original. Ultimately, Duke Nukem 3D is like lying: if you're going to do it, make it so huge that no one will take it seriously. Rickey would argue that if there was less objectification in the game it would be more disgusting; the amount that's in there makes it very clear that this game is not to be taken seriously and is all in jest. If anything, we’re afraid that Duke is going to get a wise-cracking female sidekick in the upcoming sequel, “Duke Nukem Forever,” the perpetual vaporware title from 3-D Realms which has been in development for ten years now and is coming out uh… never.

Avoiding intersections. Because, if there's ever a problem, it's always at a traffic intersection, isn't it? We're all moderately intelligent adults here, right? We can find the side street detours, can't we? Rickey suspects that with a bit of creative navigating we don't even need these goddamned intersections at all.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

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Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Your Weekly Political Update: In Which America Does the Right Thing

...And now Rickey is now feeling just a tad more vindicated for having contributed money to the Obama campaign. Whew. Lo and behold, an unlikely Barack Hussein Obama has proved himself able to wrestle a glimmering sword from a rather unyielding cultural and societal stone. (how's that for purple prose?)

Because we're all in need of a bit of well deserved levity, because you've endured two years of inane political babbling, and because Rickey fashions himself as the cool hand at the champagne cork, we've decided to let our hair down and just enjoy this election day and the magnanimous sea change that it brings with it. Come inauguration day, we sincerely hope that Obama's speech goes something like this...

[tap tap tap] "Uh, yes, is this thing on? Ok, good. First act as President: the American people will never have to witness a tiresome political contest like this one ever again. From this day forward, elections last no longer than three weeks. Look at my fucking grey temples for christsakes! Second act as President: Wynton Marsalis plays "Hail to the Chief" whenever I enter or exit a room. Third and final act as President: we're auctioning off Alaska on EBay. That's it, I'm done. Peace, fuckers." [walks off stage leaving bad mic feedback]

Now if you'll excuse Rickey, there's a rather inviting bottle of Veuve Clicquot with his name on it and an equally gleeful fiance to share it with. We searched long and hard for a fitting video to best express Rickey's profound relief and jubilation over today's events, and we think we've nailed it. We're not entirely sure who this Gogol Bordello fellow is or what his deal is, but when it comes to today's much deserved inebriated revelry, he absolutely nails the sentiments coursing through Rickey's veins. Behold, the Wonderlust King:

By jove, we think we've just discovered the perfect first dance song for Rickey's wedding in June. Call us batshit crazy, but nothing spells happiness quite like frolicking Eastern Bloc villagers. God bless you magnificent gypsy punk rockers, and congratulations to President Elect Barack Obama.

[posted at Humor Blogs]

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Monday, November 3, 2008

Rickey’s Election Day Missive

Eight years ago, Rickey absorbed the curious events of the 2000 Presidential Election while stewing himself in warm ale in various pubs in London (Rickey was studying abroad for the semester). And while it seemed comical to discuss with bemused Brits the series of events that would allow Strom Thurmond to become President of the United States, the gravitas of the election hadn’t truly set in for Rickey. It all seemed like a lark. And then we quickly learned the consequences of the courts appointing a woefully unqualified boy king to govern a sovereign nation. Flash forward to 2004, when after watching his tax dollars being continually allocated towards fraud, lies, and outright crime for four years, Rickey had the insane notion that a majority of the electorate in a few key states might feel similarly and vote accordingly. Alas, Rickey was mistaken as the nation threw common sense to the wind and happily succumbed to loathsome idiocy masquerading as patriotism. This is a major reason why, for Rickey, the 2004 election hurt a whole lot more than the 2000 one—it validated an absolutely despicable school of thought. And so the second term of the Bush Administration stung Rickey’s sensibilities even more than the first, as Rickey slowly came to grips with living in a nation whose citizens happily embraced what George Orwell termed “Gutter Patriotism.” A nation where strictly by way of landmass, there's a lot whole lot more red on the maps than Rickey is comfortable with. A nation which, to be perfectly honest, kind of scares us.

But now, it appears that things are about to change, thanks in no small part to the boorish idiots who voted for George Bush not once, but twice. More than anything else, those people set the stage for an Obama victory. And all it took to wake us from our stupor was the severe tarnishing of American prestige and the disappearance of everyone’s 401K. Rickey would be lying if the idea of a man bearing the name Barack Hussein Obama being sworn into the Oval Office didn’t make Rickey do a mental fist pump or two over the past few months. Does Obama winning by 4% of the electorate user in a wonderful new progressive era in American political discourse? No, we’ll still be a delightfully backwards nation, but at least it’s a sign of things to come. At least the McCain campaign’s intellectually bankrupt attacks and modern day Red-baiting didn’t appear to sway any undecided voters (people dumb enough to still be undecided probably have no idea what socialism is anyway). Most importantly, at least the Rovian political machine didn’t pull off of a three-peat.

So remember to vote tomorrow—it’s kind of a big deal. And don’t forget to pick up your free Starbucks coffee after you do. Rickey’s game plan for tomorrow is to vote early in the morning, then travel to every single Starbucks location nearby (there are roughly 20), getting a free cup of coffee at each, all the while listening to the increasingly panicked lamentations of Limbaugh, Hannity, Sliwa, et al. over the AM dial. Yes, Rickey is excited, and you should be as well.

Because we’re going to miss the comedic fodder that Sarah Palin provides, we’ll leave you with a brilliant creative submission to RwR, courtesy of Rickey’s dad. Some topics absolutely demand to be mocked in lyrical fashion, and the Sarah Palin debacle is no exception. Enjoy this brilliant creation, which in Papa Henderson’s words is “a long poem--in inverse relationship to the intellectual depth of its subject.” Farewell arctic zealot, Rickey will miss you.

Palin Ode

From the cold loins of the distant North,
a fresh new prodigy bursts forth,
and from its tundras rude,
brings along her own First Dude.

This viagra to restore McCain,
juices his floundering campaign
and wins the warm embrace
of the Party’s fervent base.

The faithful gathered in St.. Paul.
thrill to her speech’s rousing call
Rick Lowrey says each line
sent chills up his male spine.

“She’s pert, and cute,” says Rudy G.,
“but her nasty streak most captures me.”
Though Pawlenty may demur
and Ridge complain, “Not her,”

McCain’s dice-rolling VP choice
gains plaudits from his Party’s voice
and sends ripples of dismay
the Democratic way.

The old straight-talker points with pride
to the Barracuda at his side.
“Our tough-talk tones conform:
Low taxes and reform.
Maverick in bra and girdle,
She’ll clear the lobby hurdle.

To entitlements, she’s said, ‘Go scat!’”
To oil executives, ‘take that!’
To that bridge to nowhere, ‘Shoo!
Thanks but no thanks to you!’”

So Palin and McCain set sail,
a stiff reform breeze at their tail,
to take Old Boy networks on
and clean up Washington..

Like some fierce hunter dressed in drag,
Sarah takes aim at what she’ll bag --
the stuff that Liberals breed --
corruption, waste, and greed.

At this, Joe Lieberman declares
he’ll trade in all his Jewish wares.
and shuck his Shabbas shawl
to heed the Gospel’s call.

He’ll plunk his toochus down and fill a
church pew seat up in Wasilla
where they can exorcise
his lingering Liberal ties,
so giddy with renewed delight,
is this new convert to the Right.

Exposed to public glare
and opposition stare,
our moose hunter with tinted glasses
meets early challenges and passes.

Her family gets by.
a scrutinizing eye –
on a babe in arms she drags along,
on Troopergate where Sis went wrong,
on a daughter’s moral flaw,
and shotgun son-in-law.

But her Party waves the protest towel.
at the Liberal media and cries “Foul!
How dare they spit out smears
when our Hockey Mom appears!”

After a cautionary nod
from staff chief David Axelrod,
Obama’s team pulls back
and eases its attack.

Hands off this lady, she’s too tender --
also too tough. We can’t upend her.
Let’s not capsize our barge
with any sexist charge.”

Though Beltway egghead types dismiss
Ms. Palin’s homespun folksiness,
her “you betchas” and dropped “g”s
enthrall her devotees.
Her message, well rehearsed and proud,
stirs the low-information crowd.
as she makes her Party’s case,
and feeds its red-meat Base.

“Obama,” she insists,
“Hangs out with terrorists.
I’ll let specific details be,
but he’s different from you and me.

His plans to share the wealth,
will ruin our moral health.
He’ll tax more of your hard-earned dough
to give to no-goods on skid row.”

This Barracuda may
(like any maverick) stray
and get off message time to time,
but she always steps into the lime-
light everywhere she goes.
How bright her aura glows!

But in two interviews,
Embarrassment ensues.
She’s looked across the Bering Strait
to keep tabs on the Russian state
and flash “Alert Code Red”
if Putin “rears his head.”

As words escape her facile lips,
nonsense spills out and syntax slips.
Each verbal flub and lapse
reveals more knowledge gaps.

What’s more she hasn’t read or seen
a newspaper or magazine.
Somehow she can’t name even one –
not even The Wasilla Sun.
We didn’t expect Le Monde,
but why not Field and Pond?

Then Sarah falls a prey
to actress Tina Fey
and gets a weekly chance to see
herself portrayed on late TV.

Each gesture of her act
preserved almost intact
calls into question if we know
which gal’s the substance, which the show
or if each woman’s spiel
is equally unreal.

With each windshield- wiper wave we see,
each wink and smile and “golly gee,”
Palin’s uncanny double
adds to the surreal trouble.

Then she’s back out on the campaign race,
to energize her cheering base.
With no blink or interruption,
she’ll go after corruption.
Old Boys in Washington, beware!
This moose hunter is armed for bear!

But wait – some information spills
concerning certain wardrobe bills.
One hundred fifty thou
is quite a bit of dough

for clothing, hairdo, and mascara
to put the touch of class on Sarah,
decking her out to sell
like a painted Jezebel.

Are these the clothes a modest lass
should model for the working class?
And how might Joe the plumb-
er view that upscale sum?

Let’s ask that touring right-wing shill
to tally Palin’s wardrobe bill.
How many wrench sets, guy,
would all her posh clothes buy?

Sarah steps in – “Let me explain.
These clothes are just for my campaign.
I’ll give them back, you see.
They really aren’t me.
In Anchorage when I get home,
I’ll shop like any hockey mom.”

This Wardrobegate affair
sucks something of the air
out of Ms. Palin’s campaign tires
but doesn’t douse the earnest fires
that spark her faithful core --
they love her even more.

The lowbrows and the pious
blame all on media bias.
“There’s nothing incorrect or shady
about our Party’s Avon Lady.”

But now the Market’s engines seize
as credit lines and bank loans freeze.
and not even this great Mom
can dodge the fiscal bomb.

Too bad years back when she was sorting
six schools out learning sports reporting,
she kept aloof and leery
of economic theory.

But that’s just water, empty air,
across a bridge that goes nowhere,
for now the Fates disdain
herself and John McCain,

Denying wardship of the Nation
to the Party of deregulation.
Palin complains, “That’s ‘getcha..’”
Is she brassed off – you betcha!

Soon patience helps her understand
her mission in God’s holy plan:
she’s toiling in the fields
for what the future yields.

And if it’s not 2008,
she’s set up for some later date.
Four years are quickly sped,
and then she’ll rear her ugly head.

Will she then change her campaign note
and seek more than the yahoo vote?
We’ll leave that up to her
when she and First Dude confer.

And if some serum can inject
her brain with bottled intellect,
perhaps she’ll gain that prize
for which she surely vies.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

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Sunday, November 2, 2008

Rickey's Sunday Shoutout

If there's an entity that will suffer the most from the 2008 Election coming to an end, it is Saturday Night Live, which has been uncharacteristically funny as of late. Rickey's favorite sketch from this Saturday's installment: an absolutely brilliant spoof of Keith Olberman's "Countdown." Who knew that Ben Affleck had this in him?

Personally, Rickey enjoys Olberman's shtick, but this is just inspired stuff--tantamount to the "Hardball" spoof that Darrel Hammond used to do.

[Posted at Humor Blogs]

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