It Keeps Calling Me and Calling Me

Douche Bag of the Day may quickly become Douche Bag of the Month. I now have Tivo. And it's taking over.

Tivo takes the television cable and sticks it right up your ass and feeds programs right into your soul. I’m not watching TV anymore….I’m absorbing. I threw away yesterday’s TV Guide because I had already seen everything. Everything! My wife made a crack about a movie on the Lifetime Channel called Mother May I Sleep With Danger and I blurted out "A 1996 drama starring Tori Spelling and Ivan Sergie about a naive female college student who falls in love with a charming pathological liar, credit card scammer and murderer. When her mother attempts to break up the relationship, the psycho boyfriend abducts the daughter and hides her in his cabin in the woods. Two hours. Repeats at 3 a.m. Saturday and all day Sunday."

WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM!!!

I get up about three times during the middle of the night to because I keep hearing the TV. My wife gets pissed and screams at me to stop stomping up and down the stairs and I yell back, "DON’T YOU HEAR THAT!?! DON’T YOU HEAR THE JEFFERSONS!?!

Tivo has a little function called Wish List, where you type in a program, an actor or a subject and it finds programs that you might like. I never typed anything in. But right after I hooked it up, I hit the Wish List and up came Knight Rider, Airline, The Price Is Right and Súper Sábado Sensacional. How did it know? CAUSE IT READ MY MIND!!!

I’m scared of Tivo. Don’t like to be at home alone with it. It’s always on. And it’s hooked up to your phone line so it can listen in on your conversations. And call me crazy, but on the same day we hooked up our Tivo…our VCR died.

ctrl+alt+douche bag

You can talk about me. You can talk about my mom, my God and my country. But don’t you ever talk about my iPod.

Kevin Rollins, Dell CEO, snobbishly dismissed Apple’s 8th Wonder of the World, calling the iPod, "a fad." After their own version of the iPod flopped, Rollins dismissed the music player biz altogether, pitching Dell’s frequently crashing business systems instead.

"Our strategic focus has been on corporations and institutions and selling them large server clusters and huge SAN (storage area network) installations," said the high-brow, business only, SAN installing, fad-busting, downloading is for stoners Rollins.

Five words for you, douche bag: "Dude, you’re getting’ a Dell."

Pass the Grey Poupon, Douche Bag

What better way to ridicule President Bush's extravagant inauguration and his corporate-favoring fiscal policies than to rent a bunch of limos and throw a big, phat ass party!

While thousands of hippies are freezing their dreads off staking out a protest spot on DC's snow covered inaugural parade route, the Billionaires for Bush will be putting the final touches on their all-night ball, complete with Cristal, ice carvings, VIP rooms, Puff Daddy, hookers and coke. I'm already there! But why throw such a soiree? In the Billionaires' own words, "to expose politicians who support corporate interests at the expense of everyday Americans." And nothing exposes the President's and his corporate buddies' recklessly lavish spending like a $250 ticket to a party against recklessly lavish spending.

STOP THE PRESSES! I've just been informed by the New York Times, Washington Post, Time Magazine, CNN, FOX, NPR, ABC, CBS, St. Petersburg Times, Cleveland Plain Dealer, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Detroit Free Press, Akron Beacon Journal, Las Vegas Review-Journal, Swank, Big Uns, Too Young and OUI that this is SATIRE. Billionaires for Bush uses satire, the thinking man's knock-knock joke, to get the point across that political greed and corporate waste are killing America. Apparently, a CEO from Halliburton who rents a limo and buys a $250 ticket to an inaugural ball is bad. He's greedy and evil. But when done satirically, well, it's not so bad. It's still a limo to a $250-per-person party where everyone's bejeweled and on a binge. But, again, done so "to expose politicians who support corporate interests at the expense of everyday Americans."

The Billionaires don't expect to ship any of the money made during their counter-inaugural ball to homeless tsunami victims. The theatrical troupe (unemployed actors) will be pocketing the cash, looking to load up on more satire (by satire, I mean more parties, coke and fancy things to shame the parties, coke and fancy things of those sans satire). I'm a big fan of satire. I also like puns and dirty limericks. But the Billionaires' gig isn't that funny. It pays too well, and they smell too good and wear too many bras to be real protestors. They're just douche bags between auditions who've found a way to make a living without waiting tables or eating scrotum on Fear Factor.

Royal Douche Bag

Heir to the throne and caught wearing a Nazi uniform. What the heil were you thinking? Buckingham’s problem child got even redder in the face after he was snapped at a "fancy dress" party while wearing the uniform emblazoned with swastikas. Thinking this was funny qualifies the high prince as a douche bag. Attending a "fancy dress" party qualifies him as a pansy. Dressing as the villain is always fun, but next time you may want to go as Darth Vader…or Dracula…or the guy from IT who never calls back…or Star Jones.

And the Favorite Douche Bag is...

For the People’s Choice Awards this year, millions of people went online to cast votes for their favorite singers and actors. And like voting in Ohio, it didn’t do a damn bit of good.

Winners of the People's Choice Awards were supposed to be determined by online voting, with votes being tabulated until a few minutes before each award was handed out. But Mel Gibson, who made a movie about God, and Michael Moore, who thinks Mel Gibson made a movie about him, were told that they were receiving an award about 24 hours before the red carpet was rolled out. CBS maintains that it was still considered the people's People’s Choice Awards, but by people, they meant "the culture-savvy editors" at Entertainment Weekly (the same culture-savvy editors who tonight will discuss how the Brad & Jennifer breakup will effect tsunami relief efforts in India).

The new faux voting system wasn't the only change. Trying their best to pull off an Mtv style awards show, CBS’s PCAs featured a stage surrounded with lots of fans to help relieve Hollywood stodginess. That works well when Blink 182 wins Best Rock Video at the VMAs and there are lots of bouncing hotties in baby tees to give high fives on the way to the stage. It loses a lot of appeal when it’s Marg Helgenberger from CSI: Wisconsin pounding knuckles with old people in tuxes.

And if you Tivo’d the program, don’t skip the commercials or you’ll miss half the show, as Joey became a built in infomercial. Matt Le Blanc won for favorite male, favorite funny guy, favorite animated character, favorite female action star and favorite collaboration with Lil John and the Eastside Boyz. Then in a nailbitter, Le Blanc’s show Joey, currently being trounced in the ratings by According to Jim, edged out Father of the Pride (canceled) and Complete Savages (canceled) for best new comedy.

Apparently, the douche bags who put together the PCAs knew they had a loser when they decided to air it in the same time slot as Desperate Housewives, Lost, Extreme Makeover - Home Edition, a South Park re-run and a marathon of the The Surreal Life. Which begs the question...if you give Michael Moore an award and no one is there to see it, does it still count? I vote no.

King of All Douche Bags

Have it your way? Not with Omarosa Manigault Stallworth as Burger King’s new pitch bitch. Months of therapy down the drain after seeing the lying, race baiting former Apprentice villain herself in the fast food chain’s latest commercial.

A marketing leper, Omarosa was cast out by advertising departments from numerous companies. Clairol canceled plans to use Omarosa in their commercials after 43 million people threatened to stop washing their hair should they see her hawking shampoo. She had a twelve second appearance on Passions, a soap opera about witches and midgets. It appeared for awhile that prayers and holy water really work, as Omarosa was left with only a 1-900 number and a fill-in spot at the Soul Train Music Awards.

Then Burger King brought her back, again as a sneering bitch. First they ruined their fries. Now they’re paying an egotistical monster thousands to eat a two pound burger made of puppies and baby souls. Thanks Burger King. When it comes to douche bags, you’re a whopper.

Who's Your Sugar Daddy, Douche Bag

It wasn’t the first time TJ Myers has asked, "Are you my daddy," on camera. TJ and her boobies, wrapped in a cocktail dress fit for the Adult Video News Awards, confronted one man and kicked in the Cialis for six other horny old goats on Fox Television’s latest "reality" sham, Who’s Your Daddy. The show, viciously put down by adoption advocates and people with taste, paraded the drooling old farts past Myers so that the surgically enhanced long-lost daughter could question the fellas, run them through some silly challenges and ask, "Are you my daddy?"

But TJ is a little more accustomed to asking, "Are you my big daddy?" Her tearful performance in the Fox reality special falls on the heels of a more intimate performance in the late night classic Seduction of Innocence, where daddy’s little girl plays a stripper who likes to bump and grind, preferably with other strippers (did I not say it was a classic). Her earlier work includes a movie called Poop and several appearances on Walker, Texas Ranger, typically a catapult for numerous young women looking to make it in the competitive movie biz (the competitive late-night porn movie biz, I mean).

Can it really be called a reality show when it star of the show is an actress? The douche bags at Fox have a real hard on for taking professional pervs and shoving them off as reality stars. There was American Idol's BBW Frenchie Davis. Joe Millionaire almost ended up with a star from toe licking videos. And you can't forget Bill O'Reilly, the freakiest freak in all of freakville! Now we've got TJ, a douche bag actress who could care less about which old coot is her pops. She won $100k, found her daddy and six horny uncles and probably lined herself up an appearance on JAG. And maybe even a sequal to Poop.

How not to be a Douche Bag in 2005

Trucker Hats
Time to toss in the hat. The askew trucker cap will not score everybody a hot piece like Demi Moore. Ashton got lucky. The other forty million part-time Abercrombie & Fitch employees with their bills to the side just look like they ran into a wall or something.




Kabala
Kabala is a religion based on red bracelets. Kabalers believe the bracelets represent faith and give them magical powers like flying and talking to animals. Bracelets must come from Madonna to have any real powers. I think there’s a diet involved as well, so it’s half Jesus and half Jenny Craig. You also have to take pilates. Only celebrities are into kabala as it is expensive and requires lots of time to work out. It's really only doable if you have assistants who can fit faith into your schedule. Pick a less weird religion like Scientology.




Killing your Wife
Even at her nagging worst, living with my wife is much better than being fondled by men in prison. I know it seems passe, but divorce is still an option. Sure, it’s just as expensive as a murder trial, but if you pay with your American Express, you get reward points. Freedom and an iPod!




Being Not Funny
Profanity is priceless and I’m always the first to crack up at a good dick joke. But when Jon Stewart rambled on Crossfire about how evil the media has become and called the not-unlikable Tucker Carlson a dick…well, it was the day the laughter died. When your job is to be funny and you’re really good at it, don’t screw it up for a John Kerry campaign button. Funny folks are a dying breed. George Carlin is in rehab for wine addiction. Michael Moore makes dramas. Janeane Garofalo went blond. And poor Al Franken went from making blockbusters like Stuart Saves His Family to doing a 3 a.m. show on satellite radio. Less blue states, more blue humor.