|  | 
Eagles Draft AnistonApril 29, 2002 |
Philadelphia, PA Zip Baker Fans clamor to see the Eagles' coveted new tight end erhaps the biggest surprise of the otherwise lackluster 2002 NFL draft was the Philadelphia Eagles' third-round choice of actress Jennifer Aniston, who co-stars as Rachel Green on the hit NBC sit-com Friends." Ms. Aniston had appeared on virtually none of the depth charts around the league prior to the draft, including the Eagles' own charts. That oversight was apparently not enough to stop the Philly club from taking the lovely actress with the 87th pick in the third round Saturday.
Player personnel assistant Weeb Tittle discussed the choice with reporters. "We've always liked her here, we just think she's a fabulous talent. We especially liked her roles in the movies Office Space and Rock Star, where she really held her own going up against the dynamic M...
erhaps the biggest surprise of the otherwise lackluster 2002 NFL draft was the Philadelphia Eagles' third-round choice of actress Jennifer Aniston, who co-stars as Rachel Green on the hit NBC sit-com Friends." Ms. Aniston had appeared on virtually none of the depth charts around the league prior to the draft, including the Eagles' own charts. That oversight was apparently not enough to stop the Philly club from taking the lovely actress with the 87th pick in the third round Saturday.
Player personnel assistant Weeb Tittle discussed the choice with reporters. "We've always liked her here, we just think she's a fabulous talent. We especially liked her roles in the movies Office Space and Rock Star, where she really held her own going up against the dynamic Mark Wahlberg."
Tittle went on to give a few clues as to the reasoning behind the controversial choice. "First of all, we looked at lots of film. Hours and hours of film. Of all the Friends, we thought she was far and away the most macho, the one that exhibited the most pure testosterone. The guys on that show must all be on estrogen treatments or something. I mean, take David Schwimmer, for instance. That guy is just a whiny wienie, a total wuss. Can you imagine asking him to blitz? He'd probably start crying. Matthew Perry, sheesh, that guy does more coke than the president. We don't need that on this team, we've had our share of cokeheads here in the past. And Matt LeBlanc... did you see that movie he made with the chimpanzee? He made that chimp look like a rocket scientist, like that guy, what's his name, Norman Einstein. No thank you."
"Lisa Kudrow, now," Tittle continued, "we gave her some thought, but we were afraid that her sister, the gal that played Ursula the waitress on Mad About You might want to be included in some kind of a package deal, and we didn't want that. And Courteney Cox-Arquette got some serious consideration, because we think she could probably kick some major ass, but do you know how difficult it would be to get 'Cox-Arquette' across the back of a jersey? Besides, no one can stand David Arquette, her husband. Have you seen that guy? He's almost as annoying as Carrot Top."
Asked what position they envisioned the rather-small-by-NFL-standards Aniston playing, Tittle mused, "Well, the offensive coordinator thinks she's a natural Tight End, and I tend to agree with him on that. But we both want to see what she can do with the pump fake, and how she handles play action. And our Quarterback, Donovan McNabb, would love to see her line up at center, but not if we're going to use the Shotgun formation. We also think she might be good at covering receivers, and we're all anxious to see her go up the middle. Of course it goes without saying that most of the guys are excited about getting a few one-on-one drills with her, and seeing her take that post-game shower, too."
"All in all," he concluded, "we think she'll be a big draw here, and will help put people in the stands. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? I mean that and winning games."
Tittle dismissed as simply a "publicity ploy" and "copycatting" the subsequent sixth-round drafting of actress Jane Leeves, who portrays Daphne Moon on NBC's long-running series Frasier, by the Seattle Seahawks."What's up with that?" Tittle wondered, his voice filled with scorn. "I mean, she's British, isn't she? Football to her means soccer. Those guys don't have a clue. I used to respect Coach Holmgren and his organization out there, but a move like that, well, that's just silly." Football to the commune means a Fall Sunday spending 14 hours on the couch with all the chips and beer we can afford, burning up the batteries in the remote trying to catch every play in every game on every channel the satellite offers. Bludney Plud wishes that someone would explain the meaning of betting the "over-under" to him.
 | Paris Hilton responds to Katrina tragedy with awkward giggle
U.S. fights for control of Web; gives Classmates.com away free
Review: Batman Begins disturbingly void of homosexual overtones
Martha Stewart defense makes witness into decorative tea cozy
|
President Demands More Wheels on Airplanes learly delighted to have an offensive position at last, President Bush lashed out at “safety ign’rant” airlines and the FAA for its low-wheel requirements on commercial aircraft. According the president’s amusing new platform, safety could be increased a bunchfold with the addition of 8-10 new sets of landing gear on standard airplanes, and hopefully would prevent scenes like the dramatic emergency landing of JetBlue Flight 292 on Thursday. The commercial airline flight JetBlue 292 ran into difficulty landing when its foremost landing wheel arrogantly faced the wrong direction and forced a tense landing situation. The event was made all the more worthy of national attention when it was revealed passengers/potential victims aboard Flight 292 were watching their own ordeal on satellite television, one of the perks the airline offers passengers willing to risk becoming human charcoal on their flights. In the end, the plane landed successful, jetting down the runway covered with foam and emitting sparks in a thrilling scene of real life danger only seen previously on repeats of Jackass. Today’s Hurricanes Not Worth a Damn, Say Elderly Southerners In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and the currentmath of Hurricane Rita hot on Katrina’s high heels, elderly southerners who’ve been there before are offering a reassuring voice of bitter calm to troubled Americans across the South. “Today’s hurricanes aren’t worth a hot goddamn,” groused Boca Raton resident Carter Dunlop, 88. “You all can quit your bellyaching. Back in the day, we had hurricanes to remember. I don’t recall their names or any details, but you can rest assured these latest pipsqueaks are even less noteworthy. Trust me, you’ll all hear Carter Dunlop scream like a woman when a real hurricane hits.” “Category 5? Pssh, they’ll call any old stiff breeze a hurricane nowadays,” griped Biloxi native Ted Knuck. “Back in my day, you wouldn’t cross the street for anything less then a Category 15. And that was only because it blew you across the street.” Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment Polish Roof Falls in Following “Drinks Are on the House” Debacle |
|  |
 | 
 August 16, 2000
Don't Be So Hard-On the PresidentI'm sure there's many a people thinking "Our president should step down! It's better to resign than face an impeachment trial." I happen to disagree vehemently. I know in times past I've stated how much I disagree with things vehemently and it was apparent my only reason for disagreeing was to use the word "vehemently" with frequency, but this time, I most certainly disagree vehemently for other reasons.
It is certainly not conceivable to me that our President lied or obstructed justice. I've read and reread all the transcripts in that Ken Starr report. It was everyone who had President under oath who failed the American people. If they thought President should not be given blow jobs, it should be more specifically stated in the Constitution. Is it in there? Take a moment to go read it. I'll wait here.
President never once lied. When all these boneheads asked about "sexual relations" and "improper relationships" with that Monica Lewinsky girl he told them "No" in all honesty. How could anyone call a few dozen blow-jobs a "relationship"? And we all know blow-jobs aren't sex. Hell, if they were, that would mean I've cheated on my wife approximately three hundred sixty-two times in my marriage of three decades to my beloved wife, Arvelyn. With everyone from pizza delivery girls to the President of the Loyal Order Water Buffalo.
Why must people be such moral bores? If we didn't want a rowdy hillbilly to get his li'l Congress "approved"...
º Last Column: Your Trash Is Now My Problem º more columns
I'm sure there's many a people thinking "Our president should step down! It's better to resign than face an impeachment trial." I happen to disagree vehemently. I know in times past I've stated how much I disagree with things vehemently and it was apparent my only reason for disagreeing was to use the word "vehemently" with frequency, but this time, I most certainly disagree vehemently for other reasons.
It is certainly not conceivable to me that our President lied or obstructed justice. I've read and reread all the transcripts in that Ken Starr report. It was everyone who had President under oath who failed the American people. If they thought President should not be given blow jobs, it should be more specifically stated in the Constitution. Is it in there? Take a moment to go read it. I'll wait here.
President never once lied. When all these boneheads asked about "sexual relations" and "improper relationships" with that Monica Lewinsky girl he told them "No" in all honesty. How could anyone call a few dozen blow-jobs a "relationship"? And we all know blow-jobs aren't sex. Hell, if they were, that would mean I've cheated on my wife approximately three hundred sixty-two times in my marriage of three decades to my beloved wife, Arvelyn. With everyone from pizza delivery girls to the President of the Loyal Order Water Buffalo.
Why must people be such moral bores? If we didn't want a rowdy hillbilly to get his li'l Congress "approved" in the White House, we shouldn't have gotten rid of our king. º Last Column: Your Trash Is Now My Problemº more columns
| 
|  May 12, 2003
Hot Commercial PropertyNever let it be said Clarissa Coleman lets a defeat get to her, 'cause I'll kick the guy who says it in the balls.
Case in point, the disappointing showing of my new UPN sitcom Archipelago Law. I had a shot at the big small time, the 6th network, and it didn't hit. The executives were pricks and had it in for us since day one, but I'm not bitter about the missed chance screwed up on purpose by those gargantuan dildos. No, I pick up the pieces and move on, looking for some Elmer's glue.
That means moving back to the world of commercials. No doubt I would rather be doing movies, car show appearances, or the penultimate acting experience, television, but if those avenues are drying up in this nasty recession, I can still turn my attention to commercials. Commercials are more popular than ever. Commercials are on TV, in movie theaters, on radio, on big signs by the side of the road, in front of urinals when you pee (I hear), on the sides of buses, and constantly popping up your ass on the Internet. Sounds like ripe material for me to exploit.
Sure, I can get all pissy about it like Cher when she sunk so low she had to do that infomercial, but I'm a survivor, like that fat naked gay guy. You can rub my face in a big pile of crap, what do I do? I shrug, tell you to get me a Kleenex, and come running back for more. Well, not for more of the crap, but… never mind. The analogy is about to make me throw up.
The point is, I can...
º Last Column: The Revolution Will Not Be Televised º more columns
Never let it be said Clarissa Coleman lets a defeat get to her, 'cause I'll kick the guy who says it in the balls.
Case in point, the disappointing showing of my new UPN sitcom Archipelago Law. I had a shot at the big small time, the 6th network, and it didn't hit. The executives were pricks and had it in for us since day one, but I'm not bitter about the missed chance screwed up on purpose by those gargantuan dildos. No, I pick up the pieces and move on, looking for some Elmer's glue.
That means moving back to the world of commercials. No doubt I would rather be doing movies, car show appearances, or the penultimate acting experience, television, but if those avenues are drying up in this nasty recession, I can still turn my attention to commercials. Commercials are more popular than ever. Commercials are on TV, in movie theaters, on radio, on big signs by the side of the road, in front of urinals when you pee (I hear), on the sides of buses, and constantly popping up your ass on the Internet. Sounds like ripe material for me to exploit.
Sure, I can get all pissy about it like Cher when she sunk so low she had to do that infomercial, but I'm a survivor, like that fat naked gay guy. You can rub my face in a big pile of crap, what do I do? I shrug, tell you to get me a Kleenex, and come running back for more. Well, not for more of the crap, but… never mind. The analogy is about to make me throw up.
The point is, I can do commercials. I even make an art out of it. A lot of actors say they could never do commercials, because they're so gaudy. Hello! You'll show up to the Oscars with your ass hanging out and resting on a trolley cart because some fashion designer says it's cool—you're already a tool, at least get paid for it. Some actors say they can't do a commercial if they don't believe in the product. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't have a problem acting with a puppet who's supposed to be an outer space alien who eats cat, but the minute he brings up the subject of cheap long distance your credibility is stretched to the breaking point? Shut-up and tell them the number, collect your check, and hit the road, Pacino.
I make an art out of commercials. Really, I work at it, like a method actor. I even put up mirrors in weird places at my apartment, then forget about them. That way I open a cabinet looking for the peanut butter, see my face and get surprised—now I know what it looks like to be surprised by how good that peanut butter is. When I act surprised, by golly I can make it convincing. I sort of retrieve that emotional memory of seeing a lady's head in the pantry with my peanut butter. I could write a book about it, really, if books weren't so goddamned boring.
You may remember that commercial I did back in 1996, when I'm cleaning my face with the zit cream and smile real big, saying, "Pimples can't do shit against Extra-Strength Oxy!" They cut out my line and just showed my surprised expression when the zit cream worked, but my face said the same line better than my voice did. I knocked that bastard out of the park. I bet if I called up Oxy tonight and told them I was doing commercials again they would jump at the chance to shoot a sequel. I could be like that Orbit gum girl, a recurring commercial character.
For anyone who says commercials aren't creative—get over yourself. It's not like Gunsmoke on Gilligan's Island was a great idea either. At least UPN can't cancel me if I'm selling a beer to minors. º Last Column: The Revolution Will Not Be Televisedº more columns
|

|  |
Milestones1983: Red Bagel is thrown out of a casino for counting cards. He is not cheating, merely trying to settle a bet with a friend on how many decks the casino uses.Now HiringJames Bondian Action Hero. Must be proficient in fire arms and small mechanical gadgets with ridiculous capabilities. Responsibilities include killing unnamed lackeys and doing battle with bizarre supervillians of non-distinct European origin. Good benefits, adventure, and pussy galore. QVC Top Sellers| 1. | Edible Bacon Sleeping Mask | | 2. | Avocado Clock | | 3. | Big Bag 'o Cubic Zirconiums | | 4. | Electronic Feces Sniffer | | 5. | "Great Jews of the 60's" Trading Card Set | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Momo 12/27/2004 The IdiotadOf the men who challenged Telio, all were stout and broad-shouldered, hardened of skin and buttocks. They would fight for the glory and honor of Grazi, and perhaps piles and piles of treasure and the occasional loose woman.
And all of this, so the story goes, over the honor of a woman. A hippy, full-breasted woman with lips like a couple of pillows and a tendency to drink a little too much. She was Mildred, Mildred of Grazi, Mildred the golden haired, Mildred of two minds and unsure of who she would rather lie with tonight, Mildred the hussy. She had been chosen by a husband of Grazi, her downstairs neighbor Pithameneus of Grazi; she was taken to Telio by the young and golden-locked Penis.
Outraged, Pithameneus called on his brother Agriculturus, a former...
Of the men who challenged Telio, all were stout and broad-shouldered, hardened of skin and buttocks. They would fight for the glory and honor of Grazi, and perhaps piles and piles of treasure and the occasional loose woman.
And all of this, so the story goes, over the honor of a woman. A hippy, full-breasted woman with lips like a couple of pillows and a tendency to drink a little too much. She was Mildred, Mildred of Grazi, Mildred the golden haired, Mildred of two minds and unsure of who she would rather lie with tonight, Mildred the hussy. She had been chosen by a husband of Grazi, her downstairs neighbor Pithameneus of Grazi; she was taken to Telio by the young and golden-locked Penis.
Outraged, Pithameneus called on his brother Agriculturus, a former farmer and swing king of Cappus. Agriculturus, or Aggie, of the bountiful forearms and delicious sweet corn; Agriculturus, the stubborn fuckhead; Agriculturus, he who has been rumored to have sampled from both sides of the plate, but still considers himself firmly heterosexual, no matter what certain coliseum graffiti might insinuate. Agriculturus came to the aid of his brother Pithameneus and brought 160 ships, all for the purpose of bringing Mildred back from Telio.
Men came to their aid, as men always seem to flock to Agriculturus, the less said about it the better. The first to arrive was Duckus, the swift, son of Doodius; Duckus the unwashed, he of the especially poor hygiene; Duckus the flatulent; Duckus, with the shortest toga in the land, he who could induce the vomitous response in many at once. He brought 6 particularly smelly ships.
The next to arrive was Jargis, the emasculated; Jargis, whose javelin throw was equivalent to that of the goddess Aphrodite, which is not a compliment; Jargis, who ornamented his shoes with rare stones and started gossip amongst the masses; Jargis, son of Unimax, who was quick to deny it. He brought twenty ships, but they were universally ridiculed by all others.
Also came Usyless, he of the lowest self-esteem in the land; Usyless, who needed constant reassurance in the slightest of tasks; Usyless, who raided the self-help section of the local library frequently, he who was quick to tears and too self-conscious of his weight; Usyless of the fad diet, he of not much help in a fight. He brought 40 ships, though no one asked for them.
Another to come was Prickus, the greatest of all assholes in Grazi; Prickus of the hurtful insults, he who was quick to borrow treasure and slower to return it; Prickus, with a girl in every port and a whore stashed away on every boat; Prickus with no friends, who sailed by himself and bossed people around until all good employees chose to jump overboard rather than face insults and endure his spiteful sarcasm for the entire voyage. He brought 1 ship, and was lucky to get it.
And finally was Killalles, the mightiest warrior of all; Killalles of Spago, son of Maximus Painus, who was somehow Roman; Killalles, who could pry stone from rock with his member, he of the arms too thick to wear a proper sweater; Killalles of the big teeth, not that anybody wanted to say such a thing in his presence if anybody knew what was good for him; Killalles who had the eye of every woman in the land, and even occasionally Agriculturus; Killalles with the single downfall of tremendous ego. He brought 89 boats, and one for the ego.
All of this for the love of a single woman, and in the humble opinion of this poet, under witness of the gods, it sure wasn’t worth it.
For more of this great story, buy Momo’s
The Idiotad   |