What Sucks About the Oscars....

Sunday brings the 81st Annual Academy Awards. I'm a total mark for the Oscars but for a guy who loves movies as much as I do, there is plenty to hate about the never ending evening of glitz and glamour. First off, the whole pre-show shenanigans. I wouldn't mind if they actually asked questions that made any sense. Instead of hearing what Sean Penn is wearing, wouldn't you rather find out if got he even a little chubbed up making out with that dude in Milk? I will say this, seeing the freak show that is Joan Rivers does entertain me for a brief moment. What the hell is going on with her face? They should find a way to get Travis the Chimp back up and running and let that crazy ape loose on her grill.

Next, the host. I liked Jon Stewart last year but most of the time they roll out some comedian or Whoopie and it's all hype. They really have nothing to do. This year we get Hugh Jackman. Wolverine. Fuck this guy and his fruity antics. Unless he walks out there and pops the claws -- snikt! snikt! -- I've got no use for him. I mean, Bruce Springsteen gets snubbed for his song but I will have to watch this fairy hop around singing some medley. Bullshit.

Last, get rid of all the technical awards. Every other awards show does it, so can you. All I care about are director, actors, actresses, picture, screenplay and song depending on the year. The rest -- no need to show. We don't know the people, we won't remember them and their getting the early play off the stage has grown old.

As for some predictions:
Best Picture - One word: Slumdog. Sunday should and better be all about Slumdog Millionaire. It's the best film of the year. I don't want to hear about The Reader pulling an upset.

Best Director - A super strong field, all very deserving but I think Danny Boyle will win for Slumdog.

Best Actor - I am going to go with Sean Penn for Milk. Many people are pulling for Mickey Rourke here, and whereas I think he was excellent in The Wrestler, I have to agree with Howard Stern in that I think he was playing virtually a version of himself. This is a two-dog race and Penn gets my nod.

Best Actress - The odds seem to sit with Kate Winslet, and I think she will probably win but I am going to be rooting for Meryl Streep for Doubt. A great little movie that seems to have gotten a bit ignored outside of the nods for its actors. She is the class of this category and had the best showing this year.

Best Supporting Actor - Heath Ledger. Will win and should win. Amazing, amazing performance. Gave me chills. I also loved Robert Downey, Jr. in Tropic Thunder but this is Ledger's award.

Best Supporting Actress - If somehow having a great ass and sweet tits wins you an award, then Marissa Tomei should get an acceptance speech ready. But something tells me Penelope Cruz will win. Honorable mention nod to Viola Davis in Doubt for the best showing by snot this year.

A few other notes - Wall-E will win for animated picture but could have earned a best picture nod in my opinion. One of the best movies this year and had a great message. I hope Presto wins for animated short, The Dark Knight wins something, and somehow Springsteen's The Wrestler wins even though it's not nominated. Bullshit.

When foreclosure threatens your cave

We at the Puke have been well on top of capitalism's death spiral. We've advised you all to fortify your homes, purchase heavy arms and stockpile munitions and non-perishable foodstuffs for the inevitable mobs that will be running amok throughout the land as civilization crumbles under the weight of sub-prime loans and endless billion-dollar ponzi schemes. You don't have to prepare all at once. Little strokes, as they say. For example, every time the unemployment rate rises half a percentage point, buy a shotgun, dig another ten feet of trench, unwind another length of barbed wire or pile another truckful of sandbags around the perimeter. By the time the barbarians arrive, you'll have a veritable fortress. If you haven't been able to build a sufficient stronghold, you may want to read The Road for clues on how to get along as a traveling survivor in the aftermath of the coming calamity.

So, you might be thinking, what if I live in a cave? Well, caves happen to be ideal living quarters for post-civilizational homo sapiens. They're easy to defend, require little or no fortification, they're warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and the roving bands of mutants will have serious trouble sniffing you out with their newly evolved sense of smell, fine-tuned for the hunt.

Good, you say to yourself, I'll stay in my cave. But have you thought about the cost of maintaining your cave in the interim period when most of us are seriously conflicted over whether we should even bother paying our bills? After all, only dried meat, canned beans, and bullets will have value in the future. I would say don't pay your bills if you can avoid the authorities in the coming months, but this is harder done than I imagine.

Take Curt Sleeper and his family. Eerily appropriate, you might say, that a group of Sleepers dwell in a cave. But they are foolishly giving up their cave to avoid foreclosure, worrying about such meaningless things as 'home equity.' Ask the mutants what they think of your home equity. They'll just flap their gills with laughter and then strangle you with their bungee-like tongues. The only thing Curt should be worrying about is the thickness of his walls (which, in this case, at 50 ft, is ample), but he instead decided to put the cave up on eBay. The Sleeper Family had seemed perfectly positioned for disaster, and then Curt goes and makes a boneheaded move like this just before the jaunt of civilization comes to an abrupt end.

Well, don't follow in Curt Sleeper's folly. You keep your cave and shoot anybody who even comes close to the entrance, foreclosure be damned. Just don't give up that cave.

Chimpanzee Rage and Police Brutality

They said he was 'like a member of the family.' That is, if your family is a bunch of crazy chimpanzees. Which, of course, they always are.

In any case, Travis -- the primate in question -- was a docile, friendly, intelligent 200-pound chimp who starred in TV ads and had been living the high life in Stamford, Connecticut, for 15 years. He was so much a part of the family that he ate at the dinner table, drank wine, and watched TV regularly. Their Tivo, we can assume, was filled with Animal Planet recordings and banana documentaries. He even surfed the Internet. (I'm convinced he's the one user who 'Stumbled' me.)

On Monday, he went nuts and mauled some lady and then attacked the cops. So what? Sounds good enough for Commerce Secretary to me. Or have him run our financial system. Or our peanut factories. Just don't shoot the darned monkey. Lots of less useful non-monkeys go crazy and we don't shoot them. Nobody shot Mel Gibson. Did Oprah pull out a 12-gauge when Tom Cruise started jumping up and down on her couch like a buffoon? And don't forget our Ormer-fay Esident-pray. Did anybody shoot that lesser form of monkey?

No. We just don't do that. Tell that to Captain Rich 'Shoot first, count chimp bodies later' Conklin of the Stamford Police Department -- just another trigger-happy monkey-hater who has infiltrated the highest ranks of security infrastructure in this country and needs to be stopped.

2009 Puke Award for Best Retort Ever

In response to a pro-Darwin billboard in the world’s capital of ignorance –- uhh, I mean, in Rhea County, Tennessee -- where the original Scopes Monkey Trial was held, an angry group of residents with small-ish frontal lobes decided to put up a billboard of their own:


It's an especially artful billboard. Notice the way they didn't just write their message plainly and clearly, but placed it on the bulletin lightbox of a weird mountain revival church and then took a picture of the bulletin. We can only assume the shack doubles as a taxidermy depot or chewing tobacco store and has an all-Mountain Dew soda machine in the back that gets sold out by mid-morning. The whole tableau gives the impression that the billboardists just danced with some rattlesnakes to the tune of 'Shout to the Lord.'

‘Evolutionists come from monkeys,’ says the bulletin. Clever, to use a retort like that, something evolutionists wouldn’t disagree with at all. After all, evolutionists do come from monkeys. And so do US Senators and accountants and ice fisherman and slutty pseudo-celebrity hotel heiresses and short order cooks and pot-smoking Olympic swimming record breakers and Chinese villagers in the remote Yunnan province. The only exception is Rhea County Tenneseeans. They are descended from monkeys. They just have not evolved from monkeys. Not yet, anyway.

Other billboards the group is planning:

1. ‘The Special Theory of Relativity is biased against NASCAR fans.’
2. ‘Socialism is wrong. Stop taxing my welfare check.’
3. ‘Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. With guns. Especially Hatfields killing McCoys or McCluskeys killing Abernathys. Those effers deserve it.’

Another Week of Infallibility

Last week’s news of Infallibility revealed that the Vatican probably hired the services of the same team that vetted Tom Daschle and Tim Geithner before they decided to welcome a schismatic Holocaust denier back into the fold. Or, alternatively, the Vatican spends much more time asking un-excommunication candidates if they’ve raped any children lately than they do checking the lapels of those candidates for Swastika pins or Iron Crosses. Even the Infallible have priorities.

Besides, nasty schisms have to be eliminated. (Incidentally, the schismatics were originally excommunicated because they were consecrated as bishops by a guy who thought the French Revolution was wack. Seriously.) If I had to guess at what a Pope likes to do best, I’d say it’s smoothing over a nice juicy schism. Here is what a Pope’s ideal daily To Do List probably looks like:

1) Get rid of a schism.
2) Offend a bunch of people -- millions if possible -- by saying something infallibly stupid.
3) Warn people against the great looming threat of Humanism, or any other movement which has already been widely accepted as a pillar of civilization for centuries.
4) Vespers.

Well, this week the Vatican added something new: giving science its due. They admitted that Darwin probably hit pretty close to the mark with his theory of evolution and that the idea of Intelligent Design is, well, kinda stupid.

What are they going to acknowledge next, you say? That objects in motion tend to stay in motion, etc, etc, or that the shortest distance between two points is a line of the straight-ish variety? (We haven’t heard the Pope admit to those things yet, but we have hope.)

So can we add something new to that To Do List?

5) Admit to something everybody already knows.

I can’t wait for the press conference in the year 2250 when the Pope of that time finally states that steroids are a problem in baseball and that homerun records should be viewed with suspicion. I imagine reporters looking at each other and asking, ‘What’s baseball? Is it anything like soccer?’

The TARP

Couldnt they have come up with something a little more catchy than the TARP? "We aim to help the American people by making sure that you don't spill any paint on the floor."

We all know by now that TARP stands for Troubled Asset Relief Program. What you may not know are some other organizations out there instrumental to our success as a nation:

The Financial Assistance Relocation Team is a government agency focusing on lowering overall gas prices for commuters moving from one state to another.

The TransAtlantic International Team is a privately owned company ensuring the safe delivery of Swedish women to the United States.

The Department Of Underwriting Collateral Housing Engagements, a governmental agency focused on the removal of residential greenhouse gases through clean liquid energy.

Finally, the International Ministry of Genetic Assistance Yearly is a secret organization started by Tom Cruise, Liza Minnelli's/Star Jones' husbands, focused on the yearly maintenance of genetic secrets that everyone knows anyway.

Ptero Thoughts (or how Arod's Man Boobs are on my mind!)

1) I am offended by Arod: Reason #1: the aforementioned man boobs. Have you seen these things? He looks like a Ken doll on stero....uh...well...ok Arod's a jerk for taking steroids. Reason #2: Madonna?!?!? Really?!?!? If you are rich, famous and you have awesome man boobs, are you really looking to tag Madonna? You can make an argument for Madonna circa 1984, but you can't even contemplate Madonna 2009. She looks like she opened the Ark of the Covenant. Arod, be like every other baseball player and get busy with the roadie-skank who sits outside your hotel in Detroit. Reason #3: He is a Yankee. Dick.

2) Michael Phelps: I am not a fan of the illegal drugs. I am also not a fan of big, horse mouths, but I am willing to give Phelps a pass on both. The dude has won 14 gold medals!! 14!! He is a huge dummy for hitting a bong in front of douchey people with cell phone cameras looking to make a buck. Let's be honest, the man is no genius. Have you heard him talk? Did you see him on SNL? I don't think Steve Jobs has to worry about the next big thing coming from the big goon in Speedos.

3)Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg: I like her. I think she personally willed the cancer in her body to stay dormant until Obama was sworn in. She seems like a tough cookie and I think she would not allow herself to die as long as that Republican yutz, Bush, was still in office. Now that Obama is in, she can let go. I hope she doesn't and kicks cancer's ass.

4) The Grammy's: Honestly, I don't know one person who is up for a Grammy. I don't know who Coldplay is. I don't care if P-Diddy gets a flesh eating disease.

5) Today's hottest chicks list (Sexist, sure...sexy, you bet!): 1) Julianne Hough, 2) Rachel Bilson, 3) Kristen Bell. This list is irrefutable.

Heck of a Peanut Brownie

You would never suspect that FEMA could possibly err in their fabulous stewardship of disaster mitigation in this country, but yet another development has been revealed of the spreading of the Vast Peanut Butter Conspiracy even to this innocent and noble corner of government. FEMA –- synonymous with excellence in emergency management -– has been distributing sacks of peanutty death along with their ‘relief’ meal kits. Clever, if you think about it, to dole out poison to people who have already suffered catastrophe. It’s probably less expensive than going around shooting dead every hundredth disaster victim and kicking the rest of them in their shins. That requires a lot of manpower. And nature can only do so much: cholera doesn’t usually rear its head after disasters in our Southern States the same way it does in the Third World, so we have to improvise a little. Anyway, there were pressing questions: Is FEMA now involved in the wider government plot to eliminate the human race and prepare our mediocre planet for alien sojourners to use as a pit stop? We expect this kind of behavior from the FDA or even the Department of Education, but FEMA?

Well, we attended a press conference to distill fact from fiction, and maybe to demand public hangings and witch trials like responsible journalists. Here is the transcript:

JOURNALIST: ‘Is FEMA doing a great job, as it has always done?’

FEMA SPOKESPERON: ‘Yes.’

That’s all I can remember. I woke up the next day eating astronaut ice cream out of a Little Rock garbage can.

The Daschle Dump

I am so glad that Tom Daschle took it in the neck! Tom Daschle, the former U.S. Senate Majority Leader, was nominated for U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services by President Barack Obama. In the process of vetting and confirmation, some tax issues popped up, like... he didn't pay his taxes. So today, Daschle withdrew his name from consideration. Nice! You might be asking why I am an Anti-Daschlite, well let me tell you why: 1) Please just look up at his picture. Those are the single douchiest glasses in the history of optometry. What exactly is he thinking?!?! Red glasses!?!? Unless he is a stand-in for Dame Edna in the road show, "Dame Edna: The Joke was Barely Funny When Milton Berle Did It," a grown man should not wear red glasses. Especially not in public, and most especially if you want to be in charge of health care reform. Also, those glasses make him look so uppity and smarmy. 2) Do you know what his tax issue was about? He "forgot" to pay taxes for the car and driver he received from his buddy for the past few years. Let me ask, how many of you out there in Ptero Bloggerland have a car and driver? Give me a minute... I am counting the hands...oh, yeah, NONE! 3) Tom Daschle is a lobbyist (not a registered lobbyist but working for a lobbying firm). Your friend Obama said very clearly that there would be no lobbyists in his administration. Obama nominated him anyway. Bull. Also, Daschle's wife -- huge lobbyist (yes, she is seven feet tall). I am glad that Daschle has been dumped. Now bring in Dr. Howard Dean for HHS. He will bring a whole barrel of crazy to D.C.! Final word: did I mention the movie Doubt and long fingernails? Well, it seems we get a lot of Google hits for "Doubt" and "long fingernails," so I am trying to whore a little traffic our direction. Thank you.

A Message from Corporate

Our URL has changed to www.pterodactylpuke.com. Isn't it amazing that name wasn't taken? At first, upper management here at the Puke thought this step would be way too much for our over-leveraged balance sheet, especially with all our other expenses to handle -- what with our staff of glamorous international correspondents, our team of in-house Nobel Laureates and sorcerers we hired to master the secret technologies of the Internets, a fleet of corporate jets, the Charles Mingus Big Band (with expanded trombone section) on call 24/7 for musical accompaniment in our 64,000 sq ft of class A office space, our satellite program (to be launched by Romania sometime in 2014), the herd of elephants we hired to march down the length of Italy as a promotional event (as soon as we get the required permits), the seven US Senators we have in our pocket to push through Puke-friendly de-regulation, the steady supply of crack cocaine T-Rex needs to remain functional, our investments in the Las Vegas housing market, legal counsel retained to handle the merit-less lawsuits against us, and the various freelance thugs and gang members we use to intimidate our detractors and rough up plaintiffs in those lawsuits that do have some merit.

Anyway, it turns out a whole domain name is only $10, so we just strapped T-Rex down in a padded room and deprived him of crack for twenty minutes to make up the cost. He wasn't happy -- six interns were killed trying to restrain him -- but you really have to watch your expenses in this economy. Unfortunately, the fee has to be paid annually, and we are not looking forward to next year when he'll be ready for it.