Dixon Steele, for one, couldn't see it coming. "You know what you are?" he snarls at a filmmaker. "You're a popcorn salesman." "That's right, so are you," the director fires back. "The only difference between us is that I don't fight it."

These days, no one fights it.

The rest is here.

Open Call

Casting begins today for my life story. Any and all suggestions for the lead role are welcome.

[Personally, I'm pulling for this guy.]

Clickety-click, folks.

You know the drill.

Nicknames I Have Had:

Ray

Bastard Ray

Girth Boy

Grimace

Horace Greeley


Nicknames I Wish I Had:

The Hammer

Vince

Cigarettes Johnson

Granola Bar Whiskey

Chops

Harry S Truman

The White Collar Comedy Tour

There's plenty to be ashamed of when it comes to the American South. Texas isn't exactly a picnic most times, either, but I always make it clear to people that Texas and the South are two different things. The accents may sound similar, but I have to believe they're miles apart; otherwise I'd just turn my back on the whole place. And ever since January 2001, people in the South have been having a pretty good time, both politically and culturally: they got one of their own into the White House, they're working on legislation to defend or enforce their often parochial religious views, and, in what must surely be a sign of the biblical apocalypse, Jeff Foxworthy is more popular than he's ever been. Thanks to the Blue Collar Comedy Tour, starring Foxworthy and fellow rednecks Bill Engvall, Ron White, and Larry the Cable Guy, the American South has been mass produced as a cultural product and sold across the country. They even landed a show, Blue Collar TV, on the WB.

Comparing Foxworthy's older routines with his newer ones reveals subtle differences. True, most of the material is as stock, stereotypical and dumb as ever (Rednecks like NASCAR! Wow!), but a closer examination, although painful to watch, shows a marked difference in the stories Foxworthy and Co. tell their audiences. A decade ago he told stories about family reunions, but now Foxworthy's stories are likely to start with, "So I took the family to Europe...," or, "So we were having our house renovated...."

Home remodeling? Trips to other continents? How is this in line with the everyman, relatable "humor" that got Foxworthy where he is today? Are the same old Wal-Mart audiences going to buy this from one of their supposed own?

You bet they are, and not just because Foxworthy is telling them to buy it. The ultimate trickle-down model of classist segregation masquerading as plainspoken, folksy charm comes from none other than the leader of the free world: George W. Bush himself.

Bush has inexplicably kept the drawling accent the rest of his family lost long ago, despite his being born and educated in New England. A lifetime of opportunity and well-documented breaks from responsibility have placed him in the ruling class of Americans, the upper echelon of wealth, but the man still won two elections trading on his homespun charm, telling the voters that "Washington bureaucrats" shouldn't have so much power, all the while aspiring to be one. (Even more amazing is how Bush managed to successfully blame many of the nation's woes on those D.C. power hogs, despite that Republicans have controlled most of Washington and the country's governorships since Bush took office.)

But Bush didn't begin really showing his true colors until the recent debacle with Cindy Sheehan. Sheehan's son Casey, a Marine, was killed in Iraq more than a year ago, and Sheehan has been picketing Bush's Crawford, Texas, ranch since Aug. 6, during the president's vacation, to try and win a brief audience with the man and ask him why we're at war, why Bush's children aren't serving if he believes in the cause, and most of all, why Casey had to die.

Her complaints aren't wholly without merit. A connection between Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden, however tenuous, has never been proven with enough force to persuade most Americans that invading Baghdad was the solution to our post-9/11 problems. And although a Marine's mother lives with the expectation that her son or daughter could die too young, Sheehan is upset that her son's death seems to be in vain. What's the real point of the fighting in Iraq? What do we as Americans and as a global community hope to gain from it? Some locals have expressed disagreement with Sheehan in a less than civilized manner, but she remains, hoping for a few minutes of the president's time.

But Bush has refused to meet with her, and most likely never will. For one, to meet with her would admit a willingness to entertain other ideas about the Global War Against Evil, or whatever it's being called these days, and Bush never deviates from his plan, right or wrong. But more importantly, Bush won't meet with Sheehan because he can't. He's above the people now, risen from their ranks to become their leader, and any pretense of connection to common men and women is just that: pretense.

He may still ride his bike and eat barbecue and enjoy roaming his ranch like the good old days, but Bush is anything but ordinary. He's the best kind of politician, one who fakes commonality so well that even his detractors start to believe him. But sorry, Cindy: he'll never tell you what you want to hear. To do so would be to break through the illusion and present himself as a man of multiple ideas and opinions, open to many different arguments, and that's something Bush doesn't do.

Notes From My Department Meeting, 8.23.05

One of the new girls wears a lot of pink and leopard prints. I can't imagine how the look helped her find a mate, but she's married. It just goes to show you that there's a really desperate guy born every minute.

Youn-Joo doesn't say much, but I bet that behind that mousy, silent, dead-eyed stare is the kind of personality that could kidnap and torture American businessmen as some kind of karmic retribution.

If I were older, I would address Tony as "La Bamba." I mean, he's even got the sleeves of his polo shirt rolled up into little cuffs.

Joyce went to the beauty parlor (not the salon) and got her hair done. Now she just looks perpetually surprised.

If I dipped Skoal or owned a 12-gauge, I'd probably ask Amanda for her number.

One of the managers looked at me and gestured with his hands for me to keep my voice down. I stood up, took off my belt and looked him in the eye. "Do something," I said. "Do something."

If George Foreman were old, white, and female, he'd look just like Rose. That woman's got upper arms like she plays for the mighty Bengals of Cincinnati.

The company is excited about tomorrow's meeting because they're unrolling a mission statement that's been in the works for like 5 years. This is easily the most time ever spent on a sentence that all employees will be forced to memorize but that no one will care about.

Sometimes I think I look like a grizzly bear in a Gap shirt. The fact that I like to scratch my back against vertical edges probably doesn't do anything to discourage this image.

We play 3 Truths to end the meeting. It's like 2 Truths and a Lie, from camp or something, except it's actually 3 Truths. So retarded.

How dare this guy have the nerve to criticize a children's film.

Click here.

It's one thing to ask people to be quiet at the movies, but there has to be some special reserved-seating section of Hell for the manager responsible for this.

Justice Sunday II: Condemning Those Accidentally Passed Over Last Time

Sunday marked the second Justice Sunday, the sequel to April's original rally designed to remind Americans that just because you're crazy doesn't mean you can't lead a nonprofit organization and attempt to run the country. The full title for the Aug. 14 gathering was "Justice Sunday II: God Save the United States and this Honorable Court!," presumably because "Justice Sunday II: Why Do Minorities Smell Weird?" would have been a little too esoteric.

Despite the title, the rally was actually designed to foster an atmosphere of limiting the abilities of Supreme Court justices. James Dobson, Focus on the Family founder and curious embarrassment to many of the nation's less frightening Christians, said that the justices were "unelected, unaccountable and arrogant." This seems to be a case of the pot calling the kettle unstable, because many conservatives seem to embrace the judiciary only when it does what they want it to do. Indeed, the cries from the far right against "activist judges" are often untrue, but critics have latched onto the word "activist" as a comfortable way to incite fear in their conservative constituents; "activist" is scarier when it's left undefined.

Tom DeLay, House Majority Leader and voted Most Likely To Expose The Nation's Moral Decay in high school, also spoke at the gathering. DeLay spoke out against the bench in April when they declined to intervene in the case of Terri Schiavo, who was being kept alive via feeding tube. Back then, DeLay had urged the Court to be more activist and intervene, and his sudden about-face so confused the bench that Sandra Day O'Connor stepped down 3 months later just to avoid any further dealings with "that odd man from Texas." In response to the Supreme Court's nonresponse, DeLay vowed that the judges would have to "answer for their behavior."

In a true showing of their own exclusivity, Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist wasn't invited to speak at the conservative meeting because of his recent opposition to President Bush on the matter of stem cell research, a surprising show of dissent and fortitude for which Turd Blossom will surely have Frist sent to Gitmo for a "visit."

The two things make sense together: accusing the bench of activism when it's really being objective, and denying one of the right's strongest voices an invitation to the rally simply because he has a slightly different view of only one of the issues at hand. They're indicative of a larger problem, mainly the perception that because most Americans claim belief in God, that all will naturally share the same opinions on topics like gay marriage or abortion rights. The attendees at Sunday's meeting seem to be forgetting that Americans choose their faith, and prefer not to have it handed down to them from the state. One of the members of Sunday's crowd (which frequently responded to DeLay's speech with shouts of "Amen!") said that American laws "are based on the Ten Commandments," a statement that would be laughable if it weren't so frighteningly popular in parts of the country. There is no federal statute designed to punish citizens for coveting their neighbors' houses or failing to honor their parents, and to insist that federal laws should literally interpret scriptures that not all Americans believe in would be to deny those Americans the most basic of freedoms that things like Justice Sunday seem to overlook. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness don't look the same for everyone.

Possible Names For The All-Gay Soup Kitchen

Chicken and Stars and Dudes

Homato

Lipton Cup o' Man

Mmm Mmm Guys

Sometimes It's Fun To Watch Him Tear Someone Apart

"Speaking in my official capacity as a Pulitzer Prize winner, Mr. Schneider, your movie sucks."

Ways To Pass The Time During Your Last Two Weeks On The Job

Start referring to the fax machine as "my ho."

Wash your hands after using the restroom, but don't dry them. Leave wet handprints everywhere. If possible, shake supervisor's hand.

Attend meetings with fly unzipped. Doze off during said meetings.

Abruptly end conversations by announcing, "I need to go Number 2."

Begin addressing people by race, religion, and/or sexual orientation.
[Ex.: "Hey, Mormon boy, get over here. My screen won't print. And bring that guy that might be gay, he knows computers."]

When asked your reason for leaving, respond that "anything is better than this craphole."

Answer questions with, "Your mom."
[Ex.: "So what are your future plans?"
"Your mom."]

Call your boss just to say hi. Call at least 7 times a day.

When called on to speak in meetings, respond in melancholic aphorisms.
[Ex.: "Do you have anything you'd like to add?"
"Yes. All that you love will be carried away."]

Just for kicks, try to get fired on your last day. It probably won't work, since it's your last day, and it'll give you a good barometer of when joking becomes sexual harassment becomes prison time, which is useful information for your next job.

This Morning's Junk Mail And My Natural Response

The actual text of the letter:

Assimblies Churches (AC)
Mount Zion House,7 Arlington Way,
London
EC1R 1XA

Dear Sir,

On behalf of the entire Church and board of trustee (Assemblies Church)
I bring you this good news. The church had fund it so difficult to locate you for this pressing issue via normal post but the letters returned undelivered until we tried your email address.

On behalf of our beloved Brother, Late Engr.Mark.N.Perez who passed on to glory on the 21ist of March 2004 after a brief illness. late Engr.Mark.N.Perez, until his death was a former managing director and pioneer staff of a giant construction company, he was a devout Christian and a dedicated member of our parish, he was a great philanthropist and this earned him a papal award during his life time He lived and worked here as a foreigner and requested before his death that he be buried here in his words" I regard here as my home and the people as my people" The good news here, is that he left a will in your name as a beneficiary to the bequest of the sum of US$3,000.000 [Three million dollars] in the codicil and last testament of the deceased.

Few minute before our brother slept in the Lord, he personally instructed me to contact you hence I am the presiding minister of the Church and see that his will is being executed accordingly by his attorney
NAME; cHARLES HICKS ESQ
E-mail;charleshicks@lawyer.com

He advised you use this money to support your Charity activities and help to the less privileged.

Be informed that we are not mixing words here!!! With acknowledgement of this letter and for reconfirm purpose, endeavor to send me your full names and contact address to verify with what we have here. This will enable his lawyer execute this will accordingly, for the release of these funds to you. Also, forward back alongside TO ME AND ALSO A COPY OF THIS MAIL May the good Lord be with you.

Congratulations!
Yours in His service

REV; David Duke
Email:davidduke77@yahoo.co.uk

My thoughts:

1. What is David Duke doing preaching at a church in London?

2. The letter was either written by (1) someone who doesn't speak English, (2) someone who does speak English but is technically retarded, or (3) someone who does speak English and also happens to be the world's most impulsive typist, forgoing any kind of spell-check or basic consideration for syntax in hopes of getting their message out as soon as possible.

3. There's no way they expect me to believe someone's name was actually "Engr.Mark.N.Perez."

4. Although I don't know any "Engr.Mark.N.Perez," which looks like the guy from Black Eyed Peas, he apparently left me some money upon his recent death.

5. The actual amount of money is uncertain, because although Duke, the letter's author and apparently as spiteful toward linguistics as he is toward minorities, parenthetically states the amount at "Three million dollars," he also uses the figure "US$3,000.000," which is only three thousand dollars. True, he might have meant that decimal to be a comma, but with a name like "Engr.Mark.N.Perez," you'd think my benefactor would have a grasp of elementary-level punctuation.

5. How can someone so obviously struggling to string words together know one like "codicil"?

6. Not that a lawyer who reverses the capitals in his name to produce "cHARLES HICKS ESQ" doesn't inspire trust, but it seems unlikely that any attorney, no matter how hip-hop the name, would have an e-mail address that ends in "lawyer.com."

7. I think that Duke, by the end of the letter, started to lose all grip on reality. Everything after "Be informed that we are not mixing words here!!!" has the air of the last letter before they throw the switch.

8. This guy died in March 2004, and I'm only now getting my $3 million? Some benefactor.

You can tell this guy is kind of weird.

Hours of fun. Or at least a good 10 minutes.

Click here.

Seldom-Read Children's Books

Strangers Have the Best Candy

No One Will Miss You If You Run Away

Jimmy Touched Himself and Died

Nice Guys Finish Last. All the Time.

You're Probably Disappointing Your Parents

Fall Into the Gap: Why It's Not Okay to be Different

There's No Such Place as Dog Heaven: The Truth About Canine Euthanasia

That Weird Smell is the Stench of Your Overwhelming Mortality: Or, Get Ready to Work in a Cubicle

[I'm sorry this is so derivative and uninspired. I'm very tired.]

"The larger point that the boneheads who so despise the media need to appreciate is that the mainstream American press is better than it's ever been. If you don't believe me, visit your local library and roll through a couple of miles of microfilm of the papers you're currently familiar with. By any comparison, today's press is more accurate, ethical, reliable, independent, transparent, and trustworthy than ever. Skepticism is a healthy disposition in life. I wouldn't be a press critic if I regarded the press as hunky-dory. But mindless skepticism is mainly an excuse for ignorance. Even the people who denounce the New York Times as the bible of liberals ultimately get most of their useful news from it."

Here's the rest.

You all know the drill.

Clickety-click, folks.