There was an error in this gadget

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Christmas with the Hoopers ( Holiday Traditions FROM GUEST REVIEWER TRISH HOOPER)

When I think about the holidays, my brain runs around wildly with thoughts of Holiday Breads and Meats and Pickles and Milks!
Holiday traditions have kept my family coming together for generations from all corners of the globes and all over the corners of Ohio.
My grandparents, Lillian and Otto came from across the English Ocean to the great and wild Ohio, searching for religious persecution and a small fruit farm/factory away from the troubles of England and the English in the 1910's, and since then...BOY have the traditions switched from something we do every year to something we all get together to do every year with each other every year!

The Hoopers have always been a proud and strong family.
Hooper, as described by the name book dictionary is:
English: occupational name for someone whom fitted wooden or metal hoops on wooden casks and barrels, from an agent derivative of Middle English hoop ‘hoop’, ‘band’.
Being a Hooper means remembering the family tradition of hoop making.
We (and by "we" I mean my dad, Alden) set up a pole in the middle of the barrel room, and we throw hoops at it until someone makes the barrel hoop around the pole and then they are crowned "King Hooper" for the day and get to decide what we all have for dinner, and what movie or book we read or watch for the night.
Last year, I won on the third Saturday of the month, so naturally I took the whole family to Red Lobster for a Fish Steam and Gremlins at the video store.
BUT, when the BIG day (Christmas Eve) finally comes, we have ourselves a little eggnog drinking, in lieu of the fox hunt that the Hoopers have been known for in generations past. Then, and I know this will sound weird to some of you out there, but my brother Kieth sets up the family kissing booth and to get a kiss, you have to tell Kieth, whom is afraid of EVERYTHING, not to be scared of your mouth and that he has a nice haircut or something else flattering, and then he will give you a kiss.
Two years ago, my dad Alden told him that he was really smart and could build rockets. Boy you should've seen the kiss he got from Kieth!! It was like we were at Lake Havasu with my dad and brother for the holidays!!
Then, we all meet for the pickle hunt around the tree. This is a German tradition, but my Grandma always wanted to be German, so we hide a pickle in the tree and look for it. I never really try to hard at this, because I have plenty of pickles already.
Then we go caroling with neighbors whom I have never met, because our neighborhood is changing and now everyone has lots of kids and takes public transportation everywhere. EVEN TO GO CAROLING!!! I think they don't have a car.
Once we return home, it's time to get in the car and turn around and go right back out to the Veterans Hospital.
If there's one thing we all know from the holidays, it's that helping Veterans is important, especially Veterans from wars that people don't know about.
I spent some time with a 1st Sergeant from the Bay of Pigs War.
He kept wanting to hear "Ave Maria" I really sing it beautifully, but he must've been crazy from the war! LOL!
We don't exchange presents because it's more important to be nice all year long.
I made Kieth a Halloween costume this year, and my dad fixed my oil pan on my car, and my mom is planning a trip to SeaWorld for some of us (more news on that trip later!:))
The it's time for the Hoopers to return to whence from whom they came and back to work in our jobs and place of work, until the next year when we meet and do it all over again!
I hope you all have a great Christmas or whatever Christian holiday you celebrate, and remember the incarnation of the only living God.
A Heavenly Host to ALL!!

Christas with the Hoopers A+
-Trish Hooper, Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, December 17, 2009

My Office Holiday Party (Office Party)

I should warn you, this review won't be interesting. Because my office Holiday party was lame. I mean, really horrible. See, no one has any money, so here were the 1st 3 clues that this office party was not going to be a Mad Men style drug fueled sex game:

1 - Pot luck dinner. We couldn't even go out for lunch like we did last year. They made us bring our own food. Hey, jerks, I eat my own food at home. At parties, I like wings and taquitos from Harry Caray's or the Tilted Kilt.

2 - No booze. Are you kidding, office? Seriously, how the hell could we have gotten in trouble for this? We had no money for food anyway, and I can't bring in my special Hot Doggery Purple Panty Punch? I'm telling you, this major oversight ruined everything.

3 - Silly ass games. Seriously. A book exchange and a game where we have to guess which co-worker is lying about something.

Let me explain this for the last time: I work with a whole crew of hot women. And I mean HOT...if these girls had stage presence, they would be great porn stars. I am never going to understand why I didn't speak up a few weeks ago about this. Because I should have said:

"Hey, powers that be, let's have a 50's themed office party! Every one can wear fun slinky dresses and skinny ties, we can all smoke, I'll bring punch and a cheese log topped with spam chunks, and we can make a few dozen pitchers of cape cods. Oh, and no blacks."

Instead, I won a used copy of "The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency" and had to go back to my cubicle after the "party." Screw you, Jesus!

-D

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

The Sing Off! (NBC Television Show)

There has been one television show this season that seems to have captured the hearts and minds of all the females I know and also the gays, while not totally alienating the heterosexual men that are forced to watch the tee vee with them, and it is called "Glee"and it is on FOX.
It follows the exploits of a second rate high school glee club. People are having babies, and hating glee clubs and having race issues and drinking underage and cheerleading and taking math tests and balancing work and family life and wheelchairs. But the thing that separates this show from every other stupid drama on television is its intricate and wildly inappropriate dance and song numbers.
They take hugely popular arena rock songs and turn them into almost interesting a cappella tunes.
Well not to be outdone, NBC has gone out and made a reality game show where different acappella groups compete for a "record contract" (like anybody wants a record with no instruments on it) and $100,000 cash in twenties.
They started out with 8 groups, I think.

There are the:
Maxx Factor- a group of retired airline stewardesses that somehow escaped from Branson, and covered everything in sequins.
The Beelzebubs- a group of young men who have never got laid from Boston or somewhere and look like they are in a commercial for GapNerd.
The SoCals- some other kids that have acne and attitudes. They sing songs by Journey and Abba and all look like jerks.
The SweetHammers- This is not their name, but I forgot it. (See SoCals.)
Nota- a bunch of Puerto Ricans that are clearly the best ones, but everyone hides their wallets and children because any time a Puerto Rican is singing, it's just because he is figuring out a way to rape your family of everything you love.
And then there are some other groups too.

Then there are the judges:

Ben Folds- Ben tries to act smart and like he doesn't need the money, but I see right through him.
The Pussycat Dolls Lady- I don't know her name, but she is always nice to everyone and dances around, probably to try to stop thinking about how much her vagina itches from being a whore.
and
Shaun Stockman- A guy who was in Boyz II Men and makes sure to tell everyone anytime anybody asks him, or doesn't ask him.
"You know it's hard to be the bass. We had a bass in my band, Boyz II Men, and it was hard for him."
Shaun, I hate to break it to you, but most of these people weren't even born when the East Coast Family was running the game.
Get a job as a security guard or a butcher like everybody else did.

All of this extravegance is hosted by the multitalented Nick Lachey, it just so happens that hosting a show is not one of his talents.

Well, this show manages to delight my wife and I as we lay in bed and pick on these poor bastards that can't hear what we are saying about them.

It's worth a watch, but don't get any big ideas about starting an acappella group, because these are the best ones there are, and they still blow.

C-
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Tom and Jerry (CARTOON REVIEW FROM MIKE BEYER)

My two children have recently discovered Tom & Jerry with a near-maniacal vengeance. And by maniacal, I mean THIS SHOW IS ALWAYS ON. I come down in the morning for breakfast, and it's on. I come home from a long day at work, and it's on. Weekends, lunchtime, dusk --- these children are into this show.

This obsession with cat-and-mouse games is different from other cartoon fixations. There was Scooby-Doo, which was intense but mercifully brief ("The bad guys here ALWAYS get caught," sniffed my 4-year-old daughter in dismissal). There was also Space Ghost, which led to a whole bunch of bad Gary Owens impersonations around the house but also died away after a short while. Care Bears continues to rear its nasty head now and again, but its hold on children is undeniable. The kids absolutely stop dead what they're doing to watch.

"I really like Care Bears, Dad, but PLEASE don't tell anyone that I do," pleaded my 7-year-old son. No worries, Declan! Your secret is safe with me.

Christmas is a mixed bag. The Rankin/Bass cartoons retain their power, and Keenan Wynn in particular is off the hook as the Winter Warlock in "Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town". I get creeped out everytime a drunken-sounding Mickey Rooney invites some small child from Sombertown to come sit on his lap, though. BUT -- I really dig the groovy psychedelia of Mrs. Claus' solo song when she unties the bun in her hair and discovers her sexuality in "My Love Is Beginning Today". You're darn right your love is beginning today! I love them redheads.

Unfortunately, there's also the "Home Alone" series, which have captivated my children to the point where I recently received a formal pitch from Declan to put the first "Home Alone" on stage, starring himself as Kevin and me in the Daniel Stern role. Read into that what you will.

But I digress. Even in these holiday times, when I try to shove "Olive The Other Reindeer" and "Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas" down these poor children's throats, it is "Tom And Jerry" that they return to. As a result, I have watched more "Tom & Jerry" than I ever did as a child. So....I have formed some definite thoughts on this long-beloved cartoon.

From what I can suss out from Comcast's helpful On Demand synopses, the first Tom & Jerry cartoons made their debut around the early 1940s. They were produced and directed by two young and hungry Italians named Willie Hanna and Joey Barbera. These first pieces establish the timeless themes of chase, deception, and the giant lump growing out of an injured animal's head after receiving a direct blow from a baseball bat, golf club, or claw hammer.

The basic plot of these early pieces revolve around the feet and yellow dress of Aunt Jemima, who rules her household with an iron fist while her massa is gone from the house. She scolds her perpetually lazy cat (Tom) for not chasing the only mouse in the house (Jerry) while eating the unseen Massa out of house and home. Her voice, which used to scream "Thomas!" with mammy-like gusto, has now sadly been overdubbed in 2009. As a result, Tom's fear of being discovered by Hattie McDaniel has sadly diminished to being discovered by Michelle Obama. And believe you me, Hattie could kick the everlovin' SHIT out of our current First Lady.

By the 1950s, Willie "The Weasel" Hanna and Joey "The Shark" Barbera had grown bored with racism and zoot suits, and discovered the concept of the "cute sidekick". This concept, which would manifest itself twenty years later in the form of Zan & Jana and Scrappy-Doo, was first born in Tom & Jerry. These early cute sidekicks took the form of a French-speaking mouse clad in a cloth diaper, or a Donald Duck sound-alike bird, or a mute fish with super air-breathing gills and the ability to wield a weapon with its powerful fish tail. But the themes of these later cartoons veered too much toward the maudlin, and lacked the Mafia-style violence of the 40s.

By the late 50s, it was clear that Hanna & Barbera were moving operations from animals and their dangerous games to the wacky adventures of nuclear families in both the Stone Age (The Flintstones) and the Space Age (The Jetsons). So they turned the reins over to a demented, crazy man named Charles Jones, who was better known as "Chuck" in the opium dens and brothels of LA. Jones removed any pretense of friendship from Tom & Jerry's relationship. These two now became mortal fucking enemies, and the stakes and methods of killing and torture rose exponentially. "Tom & Jerry is scary now," whimpers my daughter Jessie whenever a Chuck Jones version comes on the tube. Get tough, girl! Cats don't LIKE mice!

The 70s saw Tom & Jerry become FRIENDS, and fight enemies like Martians, dogs and gangsters. Stupid, and unworthy of your time. The 80s and 90s Tom & Jerry cartoons have not been shown yet on Comcast On Demand. They must really be lousy (if they even exist).

Now a brand new Tom & Jerry is on the WB Network, and they are back to being enemies. This is a welcome development, but they need to get back to the basics of the house and the backyard as a setting. NO ONE is going to buy Tom & Jerry chasing each other inside a rocket ship, or a king's carriage, or a landfill. Sure, there are all kinds of cool weapons, but the human element is missing. That's what the Italian maestros Hanna & Barbera understood.

So overall, Tom & Jerry is a seminal piece of work that has given us some of the best (and worst) of wholesome cartooing for youngsters.



My kids would give this entire series an A+. I'm a little tougher, so I'm going with a B+.

-Mike Beyer, Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Drug Fueled Sex Games (activity leading to murder)

During the past few years, a shadow has covered the world of drug fueled sex games because of the murder of a young British woman in an Italian villa by Amanda Knox, an American student and her lover, Raffaelle Sollecito, and a drifter from the Ivory Coast named Rudy.
A couple, a roommate and a drifter. Now this seems like a regular drug fueled sex game to me. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary. How could this lead to murder?
I will be the first to admit that a drifter is always a wild card.
So here is a quick guide to drug fueled sex games:
Rule number 1:
No drifters at the house.
Listen, I like strange African men as much as any college girl living abroad, but save it for the bar bathrooms. We all know they have the best drugs AND diamonds around, so be sure to talk to them, but keep your activities to oral, and keep your games to Futbol.
An Ivory Coastian will never turn down heroine soccer blowjobs in a spring break barroom setting.
Rule number 2:
Know your games.
Don't let these men take advantage of the games just because they are more competitive. If it's your time to spin the wheel or roll the dice, don't let that jerk stand in your way! Some simple things you can do to make sure you get a fair shake...
Make sure the board rolls go counter clockwise and always stay in your same spot. I know this can be challenging when a vibrant game of Anal Chutes and Ladders is on the line, but be sure to always return to the same spot and be vocal about it if need be!
Rule number 3:
Make your guests feel welcome.
Is this a drug fueled sex game party or a wake?
Get out there and PLAN AHEAD. I can't stress this strongly enough. Do a little shopping, and remember that your first chance to set the mood is with the invitations, so don't skimp.
Otherwise, you might as well just go get fingerblasted at the OTB.
Rule number 4:
Savvy drug picking.
What drug best fits your party?
Are we playing Balderdash and kissing or are we playing Win, Lose or Draw and digging up corpses?
Put some real thought into what you are looking for.
For example, when my wife and I want to have the neighbors over for a jigsaw puzzle, I get the best Colombian Yayo I can find.
If it's just me and the boys playing DickTag, I will probably lean more towards a clean Chardonnay.
I know my family sometimes likes to just smoke a joint watch the Cubs and touch boobs, AND THAT'S OK TOO.
This is your party so get out there and really throw your spunk all over it!
Now the final and most important rule:
Rule number 5:
Always keep on your shoes.
I can't tell you how many horror stories I've heard about people getting jizm in a foot wound, or having a toe in the box when you least expect it.
These are the things I can tell you that I've learned, and with these simple 5 rules, you can throw a drug fueled sex game that no one is soon to forget!

A+

-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

1997 (year in history)

Now, this is not an encyclopedia service, but every once in a while a year or another piece of history will stand out and speak to me or Eric in a way you can't describe with words. It's like an angel has come down from the rafters of Heaven and touched my shoulder and made me walk into the other room and opened a book and in that very book is a page that says the word "1997" and then I know that's what I need to review for you.
To write about an entire year is very difficult for a reviewer. Do I hit the big historical implications of that year, or do I spend time with how that year helped to mold me and the effects on the rest of my famed, storied years?
Well, let's start with the big stuff.
MCMXCVII is a thing that happened almost 20 years ago.
There was an inauguration of Bill Clinton. Many died in an Israeli helicopter crash. The Dow closed over 7k for the first time ever.Notorious B.I.G. was brutally murdered in a fried chicken house. Billy Crystal hosted the Oscars. Weirdos thought they would be picked up by a comet and killed themselves, making it next to impossible to board a comet.
But what REALLY happened that year?
I filled out many college applications, that's for sure. I physically loved high school girls for the last time, so far. I smoked as much weed as I could find. My favorite drink was Dr. Pepper.
Internets poured out of every computer, soft and smooth. Everyone bought shares in Krispy Kreme Doughnuts and drove Corvettes.
No one had heard of Judge Mathis yet. Boy were they in for a SHOCK!!!!
We were an innocent nation, in an ugly world. We hadn't yet begun to fight in misplaced wars, or blindly drive up the stock market. OJ was innocent, and so were we. Our hands were clean from the blood of our naysayers and dancing to the smokey beats of a new millennium around the corner.
Well, I hope you guys are happy because those days don't exsist anymore.
Because of YOU, we dance in darkness. Because of YOU, Tiger Woods is hurting. Because of YOU, Julius Chan has resigned as Prime Minister of Papua New Guinea, ending the Sandline Affair.
Here is a poem from that, the year when we lost our hymen of innocence:
" I wanted so badly to tell you that I loved you. The words, each time, graced my lips like an impostor, only to fall away like some great blizzard that was taken out to sea to rain it's fury on the dark ocean, alone, unbeknwowsnt to any hearing... And whether that day is tomorrow, or next week, or next year, or next lifetime...I will finally get to tell you to your sweet face. The face I will miss more than I could ever tell, that...I love You. And you'll smile wryly, close your eyes, say 'catch me baby,'...and fall. "

So let that be the beacon that glides you down the wicked hearth you have created, America.
This world was supposed to be fun and wild, and you have made it deep and autistic.
1997, you are still in my teary eyes, if I look into that yearbook and wish like I had once wished before for another Dr. Pepper.

1997
A-

-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

All The Fame of Lofty Deeds - The House Theatre (play)

Perhaps you've heard of the House theatre. They are the ones who write comic book plays that everyone takes VERY SERIOUSLY, even though they are about fairies and space monsters but have emotions and great sets. They also seem to have a bunch of women who never write the plays, but get to dance and do administrative work.

The above mentioned play is a departure from their standard fare, yet still in the House oveure (canon). Written by a rock journalist named Mark Guarino and based on the music of Jon Langford (a British drunk who plays American alt-country...which is fair play because the Brits can't really sing about anything without ripping us off (see Led Zepplin)), this is a story about the last living cowboy, Lofty Deeds (played by a thin and energetic Nathan Allen). The set is of course a rip-roaring hoot and the idea of a band onstage is always a winner. The music is pretty fun, and great to snap along to and tap your feet with.

The story is basically a philisophical treatise on what it's like to be famous and cry about how everyone ruins your art and gives you money. This I found awesome, in the same way I found Walk The Line, Ray, and Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story pretty awesome. It's like the writer watched those movies too!

The cast is ebullient, and my friend and cohort Anderson Lawfer is once again a toothsome wonder as the Host. Anderson makes the most out of laugh-lines and talking in an easy-going manner to the audience who hangs on his every word. I'm glad people like him, because he's so nice.

Also, Corri Feuerstein plays the Tumbleweed and has lots of things to say! She also sings, and look-out because she's great and will blow your doors off! The piece really showcases her talents, which is good since she has so many of them. She's also really good at Excel spreadsheets, The House! Hint hint!

All in all, this is a really good concert with some long onstage banter in-between songs. This banter is long, guys. But, the cast and band do some fabulous work and I really think this review should help out these young upstarts, The House. They've got interesting things to say and I think their next show should be about a dragon who misses his mom! That would be worth it.

B.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

1985 -Factory Theater (Play)

Since Eric Roach and I have started our little reviewing blog, we have become staples in the Chicago theatre and restaurant communities and heroes on the discussion panel circuit. Benefits include not paying for meals, getting backrubs from lead actors and handshakes with the greatest other minds of our time.
So when I was asked to pay $5 to attend Eric Roach's new opus, he received his first strike.
"Strike one!" I exclaimed.
"Just shut up already" Eric protested.
"Whatever" I retorted, in vain.

Now an important part of my reviews are the overall audience experience, since how else can you separate one stupid gay play from the other?
This experience was nothing short of oppulent.
When I arrived, I was greeted by a "hello" from a nice, fair chested, young woman. Then, when asked for my billing information, I refused, sending her into a great deal of apologies, the likes of which I haven't seen before from someone with breasts of that caliber.
I forgave her, much to my wife's dismay.
Upon entering the theatre, turned football mosque (an incredible shrine to football and some guys face by Angelina Martinez) I grabbed my seat in the front pew.
I was ready to believe in something bigger than me. Something that unites us all over the civilized world. A game of peace and credibility immortalized by role models for our children and friends for our men. A game of SUCCESS that touches the very heart of America with it's glove covered fingers and AX body-sprayed biceps.
Now I was just about to finish saying this out loud when the same breasted lady from before asked me to keep my voice down as the play was about to begin.
Strike 2.
1985, written by Chas Vrba, achieves a lot before intermission. As any real American has, I read the great british novel 1984 in high school.
So the material was fresh in my mind as we began our journey together.
The play begins with our hero Winston (a charmed Chas Vrba) doubting his loyalty to Big Brother. In this case though, and it being 1985 Chicago, the bears have taken hold of the city and are watching our every move. The gang of friends he has collected to live in this hellish prison are wonderful and care about him very much.
There is Rachel (played with fresh verocity by Stacy Barra) that loves her hair and bears and cares about Winston but is married to the controlling Ross (a drug fueled performance by Manny Tammayo). Phoebe (an angsty Christy Arrington that seemed stuck in time, much to my delight!) a youngish lady with a penchant for cursing and beer guzzling. Chandler (a mighty Scott Oken who rides the show up and down like an oil covered horse that does not want him to be on top of it) a policeman with the right attitude, Joey ( a tight lipped Tim Amos, just right for this mix of despair and nutty perfunctory glee) as a Nascar loving member who is eventually sent to fix his sports favorites in "Room 101". Gunther ( Mike Ooi in his finest performance to date) as a homosexual guzzling Beef Store Magnate.
WEith his friends, Winston carries along, finishing his responsibilities and loving his glorious Chicago Bears until a young lady arrives named Monica (Laura MacKenzie in the sexiest of all womens roles), a Howard Jones loving sparkplug with all the right moves to make Winston rethink his loyalties.
Now, as far as drama goes, you'd be hard pressed to find another piece with this kind of momentum just from the yelling alone.
Not to mention the comedy chops you couldn't find anywhere else in town.
Well, it all leads up to the moment of decision, when the lights come up, and they tell you it's only half over.
Not to worry, I have brought cigarettes and many conversation starters.
Well, after not bringing a lighter and no one to talk to, I returned to my seat, and sat back, clinging to my money (it's very dark in there) ready to enjoy the second act of this epic play.
And I did.
I enjoyed the hell out of it.
Now there's not much I can tell you without giving away the ending, but Ernie Deak was wonderful as a television screen, there is snow and everybody dies at the end.
Eric Roach, my good friend, has outdone himself this time, and should take a break, because raising the bar again so fast could literally shut down the theater scene in Chicago.
BEAR DOWN AND SEE THIS MONSTER OF THE MIDWAY!!


A+

-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, November 19, 2009

World's Shortest Poem (GUEST REVIEWER ANITA DEELY)

If you type in ‘world’s shortest peom’ into Google it will automatically ask you: did you mean ‘world’s shortest poem’? Well, then you click on that what do you find?

Fleas

Adam had’em.

Anon

This poem is problematic. It continues to promote the Judeo-Christian mythos that Adam was the first person. If you follow that logic, then pretty soon you have Eve being created from Adam’s rib, and then perhaps getting fleas (you will recall that Adam had them). I find this patriarchal nonsense pretty hard to swallow. It’s 2009. We’re almost through with the aughts and this is still the most popular short poem out there? Should I get the hangers out boys? Or, maybe you’d like to commit me for being hyster-ical? Oh, is that a tent out there for my ‘lady’s days’. No. I say NO NO NO NO. Sisters! We must raise up against this oppressor, this flea-ridden first man. WE NEED A NEW SHORT POEM. (And don’t you dare mention Ogden Nash’s “Parsley’s gharsley”…gharsley is not even a word, son.)

C+

-Anita Deely

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Funeral Blues (unedited poem)

Stop all the COCKS, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy BONE,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners COME.

Let aeroplanes circle MOANING overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the PUBIC doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday BREAST,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my DONG;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

Fart in my face.
Fart in my face.
For the human race.
Put me in my fart face place.

-W.H. Auden

This guy was a real sick twist. I'm actually glad he had some editors, because this would have caused some serious problems at my school. I mean, what the hell are you talking about, W.H.? And what kind of name is that? Stands for Wackoff Hands. Old Wackoff Hands Auden with another dirty poem about his little fart fetish. Why do we let this guy have a typewriter? Still, I see what he's going for.

B.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Poems in Their Original State (uncensored poems)

America has a troubled history with allowing the poets, singers and dancers express themselves in the way they choose. We take their material, cut it up, paste it on a wall, dance around it, then spit on it like it was nothing to us but a filthy whore or sister that isn't alive anymore because she knew what she did.

Well, Eric and Andy can't rest while this is happening any longer!
We have dug through the poem vault to bring you the finest material you never knew exsisted.
Poems you have grown up loving, or are new to your children. Poems that touched you, or your children, or your gandparents.
To begin, here is a piece from the much beloved Shel Silverstien told in it's meant-to-be way:

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and vagina.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
Tits Tits Tits and Farts for Lunch!
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

A+
Told in it's orginal way, this poem has gone from amusing, to a mirror on society.

Dirty Limerick (funny poetry)

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Who's cock was so long he could suck it.
As he said with a grin,
As he wiped off his chin,
"If my ear was a cunt, I'd fuck it!" - Anon.

I think we've ALL been in this crazy situation before. The "man from Nantucket" is saddled with both a blessing and a curse...he's the Everyman in this piece, and the price of his pleasure is pain. Perhaps because he is average in every other way, or perhaps because he hails from Nantucket (an island with a notoriously checkered past) women don't need him. And though you may think he's got it made, think one more time: he can only love himself. A life of narcissism and self-fellatio would be wonderful for a few days (perhaps a few months if you went to Amsterdam), like the Black Eyed Peas posit in their classic tune "Where is the love?"...just where is the love?

This poem speaks to us all, and also makes us laugh because of funny rhyming schemes.

A-.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

VACATION WEEK! (Week of Travel Information)

Hello readers!
Well this is your big oppurtunity to have your words actually published in a real life blog! Not everybody can say that! Most people can, but not everyone. My mom has a hard time working computers, so not her, and I know at least 4 people who get restless leg syndrome, so not them either unless they are "blogging" about that condition.

If you could take a vacation anyplace in the world, where would it be?

Just write us an article about the place and send it to my assisstant, Trish Hooper at trishhooper4@gmail.com

Again, any story, review of a hotel, a favorite drink, a place to buy Mexican children, whatevs!

Have a great day, and let's vacay!

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Eric and Andy's Musical Chairs!

Do you love Eric AND Andy?
Well come on out this Friday to 3829 N. Broadway Ave in Chicago Illinois to see your heroes put down their collective pimp hand on a new game show that is sure to delight your senses and make you feel happy that you were there and not sad at all about yourself!
Wouldn't that be nice for a change?
The show is at 11pm and admission is $10 if you are not wearing a costume, or $5 if you are wearing a costume!
It's a great chance for you to win fabulous prizes that you can then give to other people that you know during the holiday season!
http://www.chicagostagereview.com/?p=7465

Monday, October 12, 2009

Celebration of 40 Followers! (review party)

Dearest readers,
Congratulations for getting in on the ground floor of this sure-to-not-miss venture called "Reviews You Can Iews!"
As a dessert for you all, we will be reviewing your suggestions for the week!
Simply add a comment to this post suggesting a thing, play, film, or person you would like reviewed, and our team will move quickly and with vigor towards a review just for you and everyone else.
Also, please suggest our page to your friends! When we hit 60 followers, you will all receive a free thing to make your day better!
Thanks again!

A+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach, the whole Iews Team

Friday, October 9, 2009

Fat People Who Call Themselves "Mama" (American Citizens)

Let me preface this by saying that I love my mother. She means the world to me. So do my fat gay friends and black ladies.
Now that being said, Andy has an immediate dislike for referring to himself in the third person, but even then, he doesn't nickname himself "Mama".
Can you imagine the backlash from girlfriends and family members?

Mama needs to take a piss.
Mama loves cookies.
Mama has ashy elbows.

I don't feel like I really need to argue this much, but on a recent bus ride, I sat with 2 large men we can assume were homosexual and another African American woman on the phone and all of them were referring to themselves as Mama, and it's safe to assume that none of them were speaking to their children.
"Mama's out of cigarettes."
"Oh, girl, Mama just quit smoking, don't talk about that."
"I know, girl, but Mama had some dranks and needs a butt."

Ew.

Anyway, stop it please.
D-
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Twitter (social media)

Twitter is for hooligans and douchebags with nothing better to do than tell us why they are important. Sort of like blogs or Us magazine. F.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Tresure Island (Lifeline Theatre Play)

Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale of the human condition has withstood the test of time and gets a rousing, albeit not as good as I could've done production at Lifeline Theatre.
Rob Kauzlaric, as usual adapts this play to focus mainly on the torrid affair between Captain Smollett and Squire Trelawney (both parts played with grace and pride and dignity by newcomers Rob MacLean and the emotionally exhaustive John Ferrick).
Their story is one of love, treachery, deceit, and treasure, only to be found on an island called Treasure Island, which makes me reexamine how I name things.
For example: I'm gonna get out my Money Wallet and buy something for my Sex Bed.

The real stars of the show is the beautiful lighting and set design, built with purpose by Alan Donahue and Kevin D. Gawley, respectfully. There are ropes and lights and a fog show that is the best fog show I have seen since the Chicago Premier of "How to Succeed in Show Business Without Really Trying" starring the incredible John Lithgow in a performance yet to be rivaled by anyone ever at Lifeline Theatre, or Timeline Theatre as it seems.
Sean Sititski is absolutely rosey as the tough-but-fair Long John Silver and Ezekiel Sulkes brings new meaning to the name High Lord Commander with his maybe-Jewish maybe-black beauty, not to mention the talents brought to 3 dimensional life by a nostalgic Chris Hainsworth as the dastardly Mr. Smee.
When times get tough in old Ireland or wherever, the rich Squire decides to make a map and hire a crew to go out searching for Treasure somewhere off the coast of Malaysia, which at that time was called "Siamese". Trouble ensues when he is thrown of the boat with the Doctor (a luxurious portrayal of modern medicine by Patrick Blashill) and his intolerable lover Captain Smollett by a mutinous and dangerous Silver and his young assistant, Jim Hawkins (who has the boringest name in this play). Once on Treasure Island, they meet Ben Gunn (that same Jewish black guy from before) who has gone crazy and loves cheese.
In fact, Ben Gunn loves cheese so much, I had to leave in the middle to go get some CHEESE because it was all I could think of.
I highly recommend this play, but when you go, be sure to bring a block of cheddar, or a nice Camembert because, as nice as they are at the front of house, they will not sell you cheese.
All in all, an uproarious triumph of skill and pirate stuff!!


A+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Personification (Language Tool)

Personification: A figure of speech in which an inanimate object or abstraction is given human qualities or abilities.



This little bastard is a favorite tool of mine, when I need to show everybody how smart I am.
For example, sometimes I turn on Carol the computer and get on Steve Internet to see what Frank Facebook has to say to me about Anita Deely or Eric Roach. They usually don't have too much to say in the Harold Morning, because they've just got in to Rodney Work.
But by the time Jeremy Lunch comes around, they are all talk!
Oh we will sit and chat and chat about all kinds of things.
Brad Baseball
Susan Dinner Last Night
Carl Which One of Our Friends are Sleeping Together

and even

Jennifer What Are We Doing With Our Lives

Well, that's usually a fun time until it's time to go Fred Home for the Nathan Night.
I like to watch Terry Television play me the hits while I kiss my Jew Girlfriend and complain about my Darnell Mom.

Anyway, this is just a basic Barry Example of personification in it's purest version, something I sure we can all use Tanya More of.


Phil Personification Article-
A-


-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Larry Flynt's Hustler Club (gentlemen's club)

I am a discerning person when it comes to seeing naked ladies. I only want the best for me and my family, so when my brother decided to have his bachelor party at the Hustler Club in Washington Park, IL I had to jump at the chance like a wildebeest (i.e. a wild beast).

Larry is a really classy guy and I figured I was in for a sexy time to rival no other, and I wouldn't feel like a whore. I would feel other whores, grinding on my areas for money. Larry's place is big and separated into 3 areas: the porn shop, which is huge and well lit and clean and well-staffed and made me feel awkward and then aroused and then confused because what the hell do you stuff this thing into and then funny because it's for asshole stuffing, dum dum! The second area is the peep shows, which of course are the little booths that show hardcore porn if you stuff money into a slot (slot). I checked one out and no sooner did I sit down a sad man in jean shorts and a Cardinals shirt opened the door and rubbed on my leg with a sad look on his face. See, folks, if he would have had a smile on his face I might have let him "bong-bong" my "woo-woo" but he didn't, and no way am I getting a handjob from a really depressed guy. Been down that road before. I politely refused, and not 2 minutes later I heard a gunshot. This must have been a coincidence.

And, lastly and mostly, the club itself. Kind of dark, filled with guys (some couples...they are couple friendly), and with many private cubby holes for the special dancing (forbidden dancing) it is a literal showplace of vagina. There was a middle bar, and three pole stages where the girls would expose it for a bit o' the green (American cash...do NOT use coins, they get mad). But, all of the girls were very nice...they each asked me if I wanted a dance. They were insistent! But, I was mad because they were all white. Where are the lovely ladies that both The Beach Boys and Diamond Dave sang about?? I mean, every culture should be exploited for money, Larry. Every single one. I want a Sri Lankan whore AND a Thai lady-boy double teaming in front of me with a bar of soap. This shouldn't be a lot to ask. But, Larry is crippled, so maybe he can't find those ladies as easily as a Dominican guy could.

This place gets an A for Ass but a C for lack of Culture shockingness. Sorry, Hustler fans.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Final Destination 3D (Movie Experience)

You are waiting for the bus. All of the sudden, a bike rider zooms past on the sidewalk, knocking an elderly woman off her balance and into the street right when a bus is coming! You jump off the curb throwing yourself in front of the old woman, protecting her from the bus even though it wouldn't do any good and it would just kill 2 people instead of 1, but all of the sudden...the bus stops!! It was because you are at a bus stop.
But just then, the bus driver sticks his head out of the window to yell at you for being a stupid hippie and trying to save someone who was probably going to die soon anyway, when a sword truck speeds past and chops his head off. And his head goes into the sewer.
Now earlier in the day, (you didn't see this part) the bus driver found a lot of asbestos in his house and also ate a tapeworm that was pregnant with baby monster tapeworms. So when his head fell off and rolled into the sewer, the blood in his head pollutes the city's drinking water and giving monster tapeworm babies to everybody. Your girlfriend or husband drinks it and gets really sick, and you go out to get him some medicine and tell the local news to tell everyone to stop drinking water or they will all die, so they should only drink the water from your family's well, when a gangbanger walks up and shoots you.
But you don't die! You end up walking, shot, to the local news station where the doors are locked! Just then, that same bus from earlier runs into the news station, and a huge satellite falls off the top and kills you.

That's the opening scene to "Final Destination 3D" in my head. I've seen the other ones, and they are getting more and more real. Now, I didn't see this one, per se, but I've got a very good idea of what happens. Now, the first one was ridiculous. There was an accident on an airplane, and the airplane crashed. YEAH RIGHT!!
Stupid.
Luckily, they've got their act together and finally started making believable horrific accidents, and you get to wear awesome glasses when you watch it, but you have to give them back at the end. Now, every accident that happens, something falls on someone, which I really believe can happen and why I never stack things, or go to places with stuff that is taller then me.
I am going to give this movie an A+ for truthfulness, but a C because it is TOO real and my girlfriend won't let me see it by myself. Luckily my wife will.

While you read that last joke, your boss comes into your office and sees that you aren't working, and gets really mad and throws his new glass of lemonade all over you, but he misses and hits the computer! That short circuits the computer, starting a fire, which makes everyone have to exit the office. Well, it sucks that your office is in the Appalachian Mountains, because they have rattlesnakes there. Big ones. And one thing I know for sure about rattlesnakes is that they can NOT resist the smell of hot lemonade. So they all start coming to the office, without any disguises on, and start eating your coworkers!! Now you have to take all the molasses and sugar and throw it at the snakes to get them off, because you work at a molasses factory/office when you are carrying the last barrel of molasses down the steep staircase and fall and the barrel lands on you and pins you down, and now you are covered in snakes.

C

-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Ethnic Types (People of Earth)

Now listen, America. I ain't a racist dude. I appreciate all races and creeds and tongues and colors of this beautiful state.
I also realize that everyone is the same and has the same problems in life. I'm not here to say otherwise.
I am here to help you out a little bit, filmmakers and college professors.
For example, yesterday I was watching a movie, a horror movie. The movie started in the darkness with a young couple in an expensive car, making out and driving to a motel after they had just been married. Now this all seems reasonable, right? It was, except that they were KOREAN. Or Japanese, or something Chinese. Now I know that Korean people or whatever they were get married (probably in some weirdo snake lover Godless way) and are allowed to stay in whatever motel they want, but don't you think, filmmaker, that you could've gotten more mileage out of them leaving a karate contest or something? I mean, if you are gonna cast Korean guys, USE IT.
If I see a spanish lady walking down the street, I don't immediately call immigration, because it isn't right to do that. BUT I COULD. This is my country, and I know that she is here illegally. So why isn't she nicer to me? Or when a black person comes to my house, I never offer them food, because I'm positive they just got done eating at a family reunion or something, I don't know, but at least they just had some chips on the bus ride over.
There is nothing racist about being right, college kids.
Have you ever shook hands with a polish man who wasn't covered in drywall dust? Nope.
Or a Jewish woman who wasn't worried about the temperature?
Here is another example:
I was out drinking at a bar, after a long day of being rich and watching baseball, when I stumbled into a bar.
Who should be at the end of the bar besides an honest to God Native American.
Well, we sat and talked about his tribe or whatever it was, and their traditional dwellings and patterns for their headdresses or whatever, I wasn't really listening, when what does he ask me?
He asks me for money for another beer.
OF COURSE HE DOES, HE IS AN INDIAN.
Well, I said no, because he would just spend it on firewater or craps.
Then I threw a bag of cigarette butts and an old tire on the ground to see if he would cry, but he had already turned around and gotten money from another generous "round eye".
Look, all I'm saying is, if you are Chinese, it won't hurt to carry around a violin every now and then.
Give the people what they want.
B+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Monday, August 24, 2009

Larry the Cable Guy (comic genius)

Do you know who Dan Whitney is? Of course you don't, that dude is a loser. But you sure as fuck know who Larry the Cable Guy is! Larry is not a real cable guy, because real cable guys aren't as funny as he is and they always keep me waiting. Not Larry...he brings the humor that I enjoy within the prescribed window of time (8 to noon or noon to 4).

There are comedians out there who play with words...not Larry, he obliterates words. Have you heard his "catch phrases"? They are part of the American vernacular now, what with millions of Southerners and people who want to be Southerners always wanting me to GIT-R-DONE! I will do just that, people imitating Larry the Cable Guy!

"That was scarier than Richard Simmons chasin' after you with a box of rubbers!" exclaims Larry in one of his postmodern routines. See, no one has the inclination to actually be a homophobe or a racist anymore, instead we like our bigotry and hatred of gays to come from characters who speak their minds and won't let the man get them down! In fact, the man sells most of Larry's comedy output, because he makes most of his money from Wal-Mart and pontoon boat docks.

Anyways, look up "Poop Lasagna" on his latest album Morning Constitutions. You'll never have to worry about something being funny again, because Larry is there to install it in your tv of hilariousness!

A+.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Arby's (Restaurant)

In this day and age, with all the hoopla over counting "calories", my favorite restaurant has fallen behind the trend.
Arby's Grill, while on the cutting edge of roast beef technology, has not focused the way the market has required them to in the other aspects of customer satisfaction.
When you think of Arby's, what do you think of?
Jamocha Shakes? Beef and Cheddars? 5 things for $5? Soda?
There are a lot of things that Arby's can offer you, but until recently, healthy, heart-conscious fare that women will like to eat as well as look at.
That's why I was so relieved to stop into my local Arby's Grill Company and find the new additions to the already expansive menu of affordable and delicious items.
For the kids, be sure to try the healthy and delicious "curly apples" served with fresh caramel. If you want something bubbly, try a "diet Coke", but the new item, besides the "fresh submarines" that really grabbed my attention was the new "Arby's Salad".
Well, my friends, the Arby's people have outdone themselves with this one.
I'll give you my description of how this healthy, light masterpiece works together.
With your initial choice of Arby's Sauce Vinagarette, or the Horsey Ranch Sauce, you can't go wrong! I decided against both at first, really watching my intake, so just opting for margarine.
Then you have a choice of piles of freshly cut roast beef, or if you choose, you can "mountainize it", exchanging piles of roast beef for mountains of dripping wet roast beef.
Then, next on the decadence train, a smooth creamy layer of chipotle mayonaisse, covering the healthiest of all things, corn.
All of this luxury on top of a crisp bed of fried lettuce, and served inside a container.
Now, I'm no chef, but if you are looking for a better, lighter meal then this, you better start trying to find a "McDonald's".
Arby's A+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Swedes (people)

The Swedes are an ethnic group that mostly live in Sweden but they've branched out to Finland and Andersonville, so I guess I have to talk about them. Swedes pretty much think they are fucking awesome, being tall and nordic and having great bikini teams and all that. They also make weird sausages out of horse meat and lingonberry jam. A lingonberry tastes like a cross between kitty litter and the music of Tom Petty.

There are 7.5 million Swedes in Sweden and 4.3 million people of Swedish descent in America. What the hell America? Race mixing? Is that what we've come to? Luckily, they're white, so it'll "play in Peoria" as they say. Peoria is lousy with Swedes.

I just can't stand them. With their cakes and their big breasts and their incredibly tasty breakfasts. How am I supposed to resist that? I'm half Slovak, and all we have going for us is that we were pussy enough to get totally conquered by just about everyone up to and including the Nazis. Swedes make fucking great Nazis. Remember that.

Maybe things will get better if they just keep their snow and incredibly painterly and artistic films to themselves. Give me football and beer, I'm ready to party. These damn Swedes can't even learn to drink right. Did you know a lot of their bars won't even let you in unless you're 23 and in a band? Everyone in Sweden is in a Jazz fusion band.

This is what happens when Swedes take over the world: the sun comes out at midnight, we have to eat pancakes all the time, and no one ever takes a nap. Thanks a lot, Sweden.

F.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Brett Favre (Biography)

(pronounced /ˈfɑrv/) (born October 10, 1969, in Gulfport, Mississippi) is an American football quarterback for the Minnesota Vikings. He was the starting quarterback for the Green Bay Packers between 1992 and 2007 and the New York Jets in 2008.
After first being traded from the Atlanta Falcons to the Green Bay Packers after only one season as a backup quarterback, Favre quickly became a hero in professional football. His popularity grew in Green Bay when the locals became confused by his complicated passing offense and was briefly considered a wizard. This, in time, grew to be his next battle to fight.
On trial for wizardry in 1996, Favre was quoted as saying in a courtroom, "I am not a wizard."
This satisfied the illiterate Wisconsin natives, and he was returned to his job as High Commander and Dragon Lizard Warrior of the Green Bay Packers.
Favre, over 17 years ran up enough numbers to be considered the most technically best and awesomest quarterback in the history of football.
In 2006, Favre's wife, was diagnosed with breast cancer, and Favre decided to retire to spend time with his family and also to begin a foundation for survivors of Hurricane Katrina.
After his wife got better, and the people in the south continued to stay alive, Favre, in a blind rage, tore apart his foundation, calling it "a place for blacks" and "my wife is a bitch".
Favre immediately returned to the NFL, this time going as far away from his beloved southland as possible, playing for the New York Jets.
"At least I know what these Jews want from me", Favre was quoted as saying at his signing ceremony.
Later that same year, Favre's wife apologized for having cancer and he returned home, mercifully forgiving her and giving her more money.
The television coverage of this was the biggest coverage of a professional sports player returning to his sport since Rube Waddel returned to the circus from the Chicago Cubs in 1906, largely thought of as the grandfather news story of modern sporting news.
Since his return and subsequent retirement, there have been 8 cable channels dedicated solely to Favre's returns and retirements. ESPN has begun entire programming blocks just to show Favre throwing footballs to high school children called "Favre for You."
This year, after deciding to stay retired, he returned home to his family, looked around and tried to run to a local hospital for "shoulder surgery", but this was not far enough away from his beloved Deanna.
After his "surgery" he immediately accepted a deal with the Minnesota Vikings. He has always worn number 4, as he puts it, "because that's how many times I like to hit my children" and "the number of books I've read".
Favre is now the High Commander and Dragon Lizard King of the Minnesota Vikings, signing a 2 year deal worth 12 million dollars for him, and 13 million dollars for his wife.
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Win A Dream Date With Eric & Andy!

Hey faithful bloggoids!

Have we got a deal for you! In order to drum up business for the blog that people are calling "available" and "legible" and "kind of entertaining", we are holding the 1st ever "Buy Us A Dream Date" Sweepstakes!

Here's the deal...every new follower that signs up will get to go out with Andy and Eric on a whirlwind tour of The Second City. Dinner at The Signature Room, followed by club hopping all night long! And maybe, if you're sexy enough, we'll even have sex with you!**

This is the opportunity of a lifetime, America! Get on board the Andy & Eric train today!






**You will pay for the entire evening. Dinner does not have to be The Signature Room, it can be IHOP. Note please that Eric & Andy may not speak to you the entire night. If you speak to them, they will most likely ignore you. If sex occurs, remember 1) no kissing on the mouth, and 2) no condoms. Eric & Andy remind you that they are not responsible for any pregnancies or STDs that may occur. Odds are 10 to 1.

Why is it so hard for us? (Think Piece)

Man, life sure is hard for us. We have to go to offices, or work as artists, or take government money for not working in offices.
Look at those fucks in Africa. They get to run all day long, or do laundry, or wear baskets on their heads.
Fuck them. So uppity.

On my way to work this morning, I sat on a crowded bus that was behind a garbage truck. When I got off the bus, I was immediately greeted by a "Zales diamonds" sign, telling me to buy a woman a ring, or else she will leave me for someone with a big penis, or could possibly buy her a ring. Then, I got to work and was hungry. What should I do? There's a chinese place next door, and a five guys across the street, a subway and a mexican joint a half block down.
FUUUUUUCK!
Why can't this stuff be decided for me? I'm sick of choice!
In Africa, they don't have to worry about choosing things.
They tell them what they are going to get, or they just don't get anything. AND THAT'S FINE TOO!
Anything is better then this. Every week, there is Monday, and I hate Mondays.
For example, this week I had to wake up, go to lunch with my girlfriend (in a car), take a nap, and then go have a beer with a "client".
In Africa, you don't have to worry about clients, or naps, because you don't have anything to do besides not get AIDS.
Well, I have to not get AIDS, too, guys.
What's so fucking hard about that.

They get to just run all day and night, and then they come to America and win our marathons, and take our deals with shoe companies.
Well, I guess I gotta go back to reading political blogs and eating granola.

We'll see how Africa likes it when I move THERE.
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Saturday, August 15, 2009

The Ten Commandments (God Week rules)

OK, so here's the Ten Commandments. These rules from God were brought down from Moses when all the Jews were worshipping a gold cow and having orgies and smoking weed and really having a lot of fun. Here comes Moses to ruin it all!

These rules are pretty dumb:

1. You shall not worship any other god but me.

But what if I want to worship my shoes? My shoes do a lot for me and work really hard. Can't I worship God and my shoes? This one makes no sense.

2. You shall not make a graven image.

Of who, God? No problem...can't see him. But, what about Jesus on the cross at churches and shit? BLAM, got ya God!

3. You shall not take the name of God in vain.

I really really hurt myself though. So, invalid. That shit slips out when you cut yourself on a tuna fish can.

4. You shall not break the Sabbath.

What about Black Sabbath? They're still touring, America. YOU CAN'T BREAK THEM UP.

5. You shall not dishonor your parents.

Fuck your parents.

6. You shall not murder.

Murder your parents. Two birds, one stone and all that jazz. Jizz.

7. You shall not commit adultery.

I think this is getting really stupid. There are some HOT chicks out there.

8. You shall not steal.

Unless you can get away with it. Yoink! Free lighter!

9. You shall not commit perjury.

Now...huh? This is really on this list? Fine, he DIDN'T kill the clerk, he just took the money.

10. You shall not covet.

I covet all the time. Strike me dead.

These rules are a waste of time. They are also repetetive. I suggest How To Win Friends and Influence People. At least those rules make sense in this crazy modern world.

D.

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Friday, August 14, 2009

Aboriginal Religion (God Week)

This is what these nutsos think:

Well, let's be fair and start at the beginning.
Aboriginal people don't believe in things they can't see. Clearly. I mean, they must not believe in love or togetherness, because there are so few of them. They don't make "love" or "fucking".
But, and get this, they believe in nature and the things around them.

"Aboriginal deities have many roles and no single description or term can describe all of these. Based on their primary role, they fall into three main categories, and any one deity may belong to one, two, or all three of these categories:"

To save time, I will tell you what these are in a single description.

Ancestoral beings:

These are ghosts of your Grandpas and Grandmas, and will help guide your journey to the real parts of Australia.

Wet Beings:

Since they are close to the water and whatever and really like to drink stuff, these are those beings inside of food and rivers that make water and stuff wet.

Totemic Beings:
These are beings that make poles and tater totems. They are like tater tots, but have faces of Gods and other religious symbols inside of them.
They are still good with ketchup, but do not make them wet or a God of wetness will come and eat all your tater totems.

Anyway, these people are ridiculous. Get a job, and some pants, weirdos.

F+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Thursday, August 13, 2009

The Catholic Church's Mandatory Class on How To Protect Your Children From Evil Pedophiles (God Week classes) GUEST REVIEWER MIKE BEYER

My children go to a Catholic elementary school in the city. The school itself is pretty excellent, and does a nice job of involving the parents and their wallets in our children's education. However, there are certain realities associated with Catholic schools -- chiefly the issue of those randy priests! Fortunately for us parents, the Archdiocese is here to help. They offer a one-day seminar that teaches exactly how to spot those nasty child molesters who lurk at every turn. And really, who better to offer this lesson than a bunch of priests?

Like a good Catholic, I saw the movie Doubt, just to get a look at the good old days when times were right! That movie taught me that occasionally there is a good reason for pedophilia -- if it protects the child in question from racism. With that in mind, my wife and I attended the Church's seminar -- which is required if we want to so much as set foot in our beloved school.

The seminar took place in a gigantic conference room in a church on Chicago's South Side. Like the church itself, this room was once glorious but is now covered in dust and the smell of mothballs. I was the only male in the room -- which turned me into a convenient target for these mothers' fear. I was happy to be that target if it meant the future protection of my children from godless scum who crave youngsters.

We were shown several videotapes on pedophilia, which taught me to keep on the lookout for dudes in ponytails with glasses and goatees. Forget the priests -- THEY are the danger! They got rid of all the bad or confused priests. Now the good ones remain, and they are here to help. But....kids should still avoid them at all costs. Just to prevent any kind of loose talk.

REVIEW: B+ My kids are now safe. Thanks Church!

Catholic School Girls (God Week fetish)

Girls are pretty cool when you are just looking at them. Like, when they stand there or lie there or recline on pool tables wearing things or taking things off or whatnot. That's the best. It's when they start talking is when things get complicated. I always wonder if I should answer or just let them keep talking. That's the hardest part. It's even harder when they are in little catholic school girl outfits.

What American doesn't like catholic school girls? The little uniforms, plaid skirts, and oral fixations so they'll remain virginal? I've only met a few real catholic school girls in my life but all of them were awesome. Katherine was the best one...she was really into God, and also really into taking her shirt off. God and I were both very proud of her for that. Most of the time you only see catholic school girls in certain movies that either come out of the San Fernando Valley or out of you and your wife's camcorder after the kids went to sleep and you both stayed up to watch "The Craft." The latter ones usually aren't that great. No one likes a catholic school woman...because that's a nun and nuns aren't supposed to have sex, even though they TOTALLY put out for other nuns. I bet convents are really great places to party.

OH, and also knee high socks!
A+.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Golem (God Week Monster Jews)

A Golem, as the story goes, was created by a Rabbi in Prague to protect the Ghetto from outside forces, and to summon dead people as witnesses in court trials.

Okey doke.
I mean, that's not what I saw on the X-Files, but whatevs. The X-Files had a much more realistic version of Golems. It is a monster created from God's earth, controled by Jews to take over the media, or something. I fell asleep, but I remember a mud guy punching Al Roker.

Sometimes, they were also made of clay, or "adobe" as the natives of Europe would've called it, if they weren't run off to America by settlers and given small pox.
Also, it's clear that Golems were Christian and stolen from the Jews in the dark of the night. Why else weren't they there on the Nina, Pinta, or Santa Maria?
Is it because they were protecting us from the Jews in Europe? Yes it is.

Anyway, Golems, or as I call them, "Dirt Snowmen" have become an obscure legend in most of the world, but I'm here to remind us that, the dirt could always just reach up and grab your foot and make you testify in court, if that dirt was first convinced to do so by a Rabbi or someone else who is Jewish or something like that.
Golems:
B+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

The Confession Stand (Catholic sacrament) GUEST REVIEWER Quierkki Boerkenhagan

I have a GodchurchBabyJesus review. The other day, at a street fair, I had too many Blue Moons at the Simon’s beer tent and I really had to pee. I can’t go into pour-the-pottys because as much as a I try and I try and I try, I look down. So there was this church and the door was open and everything. I asked this lady who worked there, well I thinked she worked there. She was lighting all the candles and she was crying so she must really not like her job but I THOUGHT she said first door on the right but maybe she said the first door on the left? But I went to the first door on the right and it was dark, dark, dark in there and I went in and I tried to find the light but you all, oh my God! There was this MAN in there behind this fence that had all these little holes in it and CHRIST that guy freaked me out, cause I thought he was one of those perverted catholic people that are always on the news and I was all like, “This isn’t the bathroom, beeyotch” but but then he was like, talking to me, calling me a CHILD and I was frozen in TERROR.

And then I was like to myself, “OMGOMGOMG –DUH Quorqi- this is a confession stand and I can’t remember about this room but I think am supposed to do bad things in here? And if I do them in here, I won’t get in trouble by my God? “

My God is different than other people’s Gods. That’s what my friend “Pallison” says.

And then I think I remembered something about beads and confession stands at parades and someone will give me beads like at the Mardi Gras so I lifted my shirt and showed the guy my boobies but the I didn’t get any fucking beads. I kept in trying, but he kept on gurgling. I think he was not feeling well. I said, “Whaza matter little fella?” I tried to stick my fingers in the little holes and pet him but he wasn’t in there anymore. So I tried really hard to do a few more sin things so I would go to Heaven and be forgiven, so I said lots of illegal God phrasings like “fuckin shit”, “God Damn baby Jesus” and a whole bunch of other stuff about sex and stealing lip gloss. Oh boy. I hope it was enough. I really had to pee, so after a couple of hours waiting for the guy to come back, I finally left.

But you know… God freaks me out, especially pictures of him with babies floating around his head, but it was very very very good and fun to use the confession stand and I am sure, vvvveeerryyy sure, that one day, I will be an angel.

Plagues of Egypt (God Week)

Locusts, gnats, frogs, flies, and sick cows. Well well well, God, you must be crazy if you think these things will work nowadays. What is to stop me from just going inside away from sneezy cows and frog rain?
I mean, I guess I gotta give you props for thinking up stuff that no human would've EVER thought of, and only a God could have been creative enough to invent.
But if you think of it, back then, people who ran the fly farms would've had a really hard time if all of their fly crops started dieing. Some of the other plagues were, blood rivers, unhealable boils, darkness (maybe a plague to heterosexuality), and my personal favorite, hail mixed with fire. I mean, GOD DAMN that would be crazy, guys.
Is it cold? Yep. Hot? Yep. Dang.

So, naturally, I started thinking about the plagues and what God could do nowadays to wash away the nonbelievers. Here is my list of new plagues...

iGnats- I saw where God was going with these gnats, but that just won't do nowadays. Today we are more sophisticated so we'd need gnats that come through the internet and could possibly affect our annual porno crop.

Bad Eyesight- Has plagued me for years, this is more of an inconvenience.

Pissed-off Conservative Women- Because, seriously, pick one or the other.

Rivers of Blood- This is the same as God's plague. CREEPY!!!!

Cheaply Made Jesus Candles- Because, while this really isn't ironic, irony is a plague.

Cancer- Maybe you should believe in God a little more.

I hope these are helpful as we are looking more towards the end of the world, if I were you, I'd start packing my bags for space, because God can not get us there.
God's Plagues:
C+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Creationism (Stupid Idea)

Now listen, I'm not one of those crazy guys that thinks that he's right about everything. I'm pretty sure I'm wrong about a LOT of stuff, and some stuff, I pretend to know a lot about and could talk to you for hours about, but really don't know Jack's Dick about.

Card games, for example, I don't know anything about, and health care. Black people is another thing, and what about different kinds of stock options, or how to make a woman happy.
"Well, the thing you need to remember about women is, they are always mad at their fathers."
See? That can't possibly be true, because there are women I haven't met before, and they can't all be like the women I know.
There is one thing I am certain of, and that is that Creationism is incorrect. Do you mean to tell me that we didn't come from monkeys? Do you really not believe in evolution? The natural biological process proven YEARS ago by science?
What's that?
You don't believe in science?
When I was a child, I had to do a science fair project, and since I had an old dog, I did an experiment entitled, "Can old dogs learn new tricks?"
You know what? They can't. I proved it, just as monkeys and midgets have proved to us that evolution is real. Did you ever watch "My Giant"? That tall guy is what we will all be one day when we evolve into huge drooling Albanians. We will be long dead by then, but our children will be huge Space Albanians.
Read a book, dude.
I'm sick of being the smartest guy out there.
Go to hell, Creationism.
F-
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Lutheran Confirmation (classes)

Hell yes it's God Week on Reviews You Can Iews, and today I decided to stick close to my heart when deciding what you can iews. That's why this honky chose Lutheran Confirmation classes. So if you're a Lutheran, or as I like to call them "Catholics with a keg in the multi-purpose room," you have to take two years of confirmation classes to basically validate your entire existence. These start in 6th grade and happen one day a week for 2 years. Basically, a totally bogus way to make me not play Nintendo. Thanks, God. We would sit in the church basement, which smelled like milk and hell, and our pastor (Pastor GERALD...read nothing into this) would explain what awesome shit Martin Luther got up to in the Dark Ages. He was a monk that was sick of all those rules like "Hey don't ever have sex!" and "Hey keep flogging yourself, it's kickass!" He nailed (yeah, nailed) his 95 Theses (yeah, theses) to the door of the church in Austerdam, or whatever shithole in Germany he was from and banged all sorts of dirty nuns. Luther is the patron saint of nun banging. This freaked everyone out so hard that they threw his ass in a castle and locked him up. Unfortunately for them, there was a printing press there (OH SNAP Y'ALL!) and he printed bibles for everyone to read. Well, I wish he would have put something in there about not shoplifting from Walgreens during confirmation classes, because I sure did. One day, I stuffed a few pens, a calculator, 12 Hershey's bars (almond) and some hairbrushes into my coat. I thought I was all David Niven...turns out I was all David Naughton (he was a failed actor in the 80s). I was stopped by the entire Walgreens staff and made to go wait in the managers office for my mom. This caused all sorts of problems for me. Pastor Gerald didn't know what to do with me after that. So, I finished out my confirmation classes and answered all the questions and won the day. Or something. I don't remember. But, it sure was neat learning all those things about religion...they certainly left a mark.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Friday, August 7, 2009

John Hughes (Movie Director)

John Hughes, the man behind hundreds of movies about teen angst and hardship and overcoming adversity has perished. I did not like most of his movies, but I'm always sad to see a fellow person bite the big pillow of life.
But, come to think of it, there was one movie he made that really inspired me, and was also the first time I got to touch a girls boob.
Highlander is a movie about a teenager in Scotland who kills an immortal giant and Sean Connery is a Mexican and there are Japanese people too. This is all well and good.
Also, the Scottish kid has to do homework (HOMEWORK!!?) and has a montage of dancing and trying on clothes and spilling a milkshake on his immortal warlock uncle at the mall.
Anyway, I went with a group of friends in my mom's minivan when I was 13.
"bye Mom!"
Little did my mom know that I would soon be touching somebody elses breasts. It had been a while since I had touched any breasts, but it's like riding a bicycle. A bicycle with nipples. 13 year old nipples.
Well, we went to see one movie, I think it was Independence Day. Independence Day was always sold out, so will be getting a bad review later on.
We had to see Highlander, directed by John Hughes. He really understood what it was like to be a teenager, I think. Me and Sarah, or Erin, or Tina sat and pretended like we were watching the movie, but we all knew what was about to happen. She was getting her boobs ready to be touched when I jumped the gun and grabbed away. I was positive I would be swiped away, but thankfully for me and my sweaty face I was not.
I touched the left one with my left hand. You see, we had to look like we were just sitting there with our arms crossed, or my friend Pat sitting next to me would see, and then everybody in school would know that I touched Jennifer, or Sandy or whatever's boobs!
Well, just when I was gonna go for the right one too, Pat got up to use the bathroom, and I got scared and chickened out. So, in the end, only the left one got touched. Man, was I nervous!!
Anyhow, Karen, or Susan left with her friends before the credits roled, but I will always remember seeing the images of Highlander by John Hughes that helped make me a man.
Now I can say with confidence, Two Boobs Enter, One Boob Leaves (without being touched by Andy).
A+
Thank you John Hughes
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Miami Vice (tv cop show)

The Vice Squad. That's the part of the police department that deals with drugs, hookers, bombs, fast cars, pastel shirts, money laundering, bosses who don't smile, samurais, and cheese cloth. At least according to Miami Vice, a tv show that started in the mid-80s, when things really started getting weird for America. This was a show about Crockett & Tubbs, and Elvis the crazy alligator they lived with on a sailboat that never got used. These guys were really "tubular", as they were cops but somehow could afford Ferraris and Ray-Ban sunglasses for every day of the week. This show was more like a video that you'd see on MTV or Friday Night Videos or at my house on YouTube. Everything was really slow, and there were lots of shots...shots like of a car wheel driving on a street for 2 minutes while Glenn Frey sang about smuggling. These shots represented DESPAIR. The boss was Edward James Olmos, who has made a career of playing Hispanic authority figures, and this paved the way for our 1st Latina supreme court judge. He never got mad, he just was never happy. Probably because the cops looked like they made a million dollars a day and he had really bad acne scars. I'll bet he drank a lot at home alone, like in Home Alone. Anyway, the cops were always after terrible Cubans who did awful things and always got away with it. Then a Phil Collins song would play and Tubbs would do a little dance. Every episode ended like this. Not very original. I'm ready to give it another chance, though.
B-.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Cats (Musical)

In times like this, people turn to laughter to help them through the terrible, lonely abyss that is their sad, pathetic little lonely lives.
That's why "Everybody Loves Raymond" got to be so popular. People could see themselves in those angry, mean, screaming women and their inept husbands, and that made them laugh.
This is also the case with a musical I've just seen called "Cats".
Cats is a modern day fable about cats. Now, there isn't a "plotline" per se, or any sort of "plotline", but that doesn't stop the impending hysterics!!
In this show we meet all sorts of cats with jobs! There's a pirate cat, a baker cat, and that's just two of the literally thousands of cats who work and play in this dream junkyard of cat souls.
Why there is an astronaut cat, a baseball player cat, a mattress salesman cat, and an old cat lady cat that has a lot of cats!
All these cats fit together to make a great patchwork of life inside this seemingly endless junkyard of dreams. They will sing you songs, (my favorite was "Memories", a song about high school) and tell you great tales of courage. Who needs to know why!?
After the 2 hour first act of seeing people try to move like cats, but still move like people in fur coats, it feels like no time till the end of intermission.
My only problem with this musical is, I wish they were snakes instead. I mean, can you imagine a junkyard of baseball playing snakes!!?
EEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!
I'd DEFINITELY try to hit a homerun and GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!!!
Anyway, it was a great time, but still, think about snakes.
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Facebook on August 6th, 9 AM (social networking website)

OK, Facebook is really crap this morning. You know how you can chat with people all day and it's like a party at work and it's TOTALLY the best and you feel like you have a million friends and everyone's really nice and invites you to a lot of stuff even though you usually don't go even when you mark "Attending"??

Well, today it's like a stupid board meeting with a bunch of socially retarded deaf-mutes and the coffee sucks and there's no sugar and the Powerpoint presentation just got the blue screen of death and the chairs have 3 legs longer than the 4th leg and your seat feels like razor wire and someone just got shot and YOU DID IT.

Fuck you Facebook. Get back to normal before I have to go to MySpace again. LIFE = RUINED.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

My Kid's Magic Show (Magic Show) GUEST REVIEWER MIKE BEYER

My wife and I recently attended a new work on Monday night called "Declan and Jessie's Magic Show". And, um....yeah. This piece needs to be workshopped A LOT before it's anywhere close to being show-ready. The performers themselves have a ton of energy but the show itself is severely unfocused. And that's being kind.

But hey -- I am their father, and that's why I'm here. I mean, how am I supposed to raise the next Haley Joel Osment or Jamie Lynn Spears if they're going to put out stuff like this?

The show, which ran a merciful nine minutes, began promisingly with an introduction by 4-year-old Jessie Beyer, a sparkly blonde who is actually the brains of this duo. It then immediately segued into a nice "magnetic wand" trick by 7-year-old Declan Beyer, another towhead with real ambition and a manic intensity (wonder where he gets that?).

The opening illusion itself was very well done, but immediately led to serious problems -- in the form of open discontent among the cast over the direction of the show. Sadly, this professional jealousy would plague the rest of the piece.

There was also an unbelievably long amount of dead space in between tricks as Declan seemed unable to decide which trick should be next. (CRITIC'S NOTE: Setlist, anyone? Who directed this?) Jessie would suggest a number of tricks, which were instantly rejected by Declan while the audience grew increasingly uncomfortable.

Finally, Declan came out and did a "flipping wand" trick. This was an interesting choice for a follow-up, and certainly something I've never seen before. However, I was unsure where the actual magic lay in flipping a wand like a baton up in the air and catching it over and over again. He received only polite applause for this, which deflated his confidence a bit. As a parent, I constantly second-guess myself when it comes to the kids. Perhaps I should have clapped harder. Perhaps I should have "oohed" and "ahhed" more. Perhaps I shouldn't have let that 8-year-old kid in to see "Dead Wrong" the other night....

ANYWAY, the show seemed to regain a bit of momentum when Jessie rightly seized upon the dead space to regale the audience (of two) with fine, spirited renditions of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and an improvised composition called "We're Doing a Music Show Now". The songs were much better received than either of the two previous tricks. This caused the simmering tensions to burst forth into an open argument. At first, I laughed, thinking it was scripted.

But then Declan snapped, "It's Declan and Jessie's Magic Show, not Magic And Music Show!" And Jessie replied, "I'm tired of being the assistant! I want to sing!" This made me question how long Declan And Jessie can continue in their present form.

The rest of the show continued on, as the actors did their jobs in relatively tense silence. Declan rattled off a few tricks smartly, starting with the "Cut The Rope In Half And Put It Back Together" magic box, a "Watch Me Make Cards Appear Out of Nowhere" trick, and ending with the "Disappearing Stars On The Card" trick, which Jessie unwisely spoiled by saying, "You're putting your thumb over the star, NOT making it disappear!" This had the predictable effect on Declan, leading to yet another public confrontation. And of course, Jessie's space-filler songs between acts continued to outshine the tricks themselves. They wouldn't even hold hands at the end of the show during the curtain call! TENSION.

Honest critique among performers -- good. Honest critique in the middle of the performance -- bad. In particular, Jessie really needs to learn how to be a pro, bottle up her rage over the show until the post mortem, and THEN explode over everyone in shocking fashion.

GRADE FROM DAD: C-
-Mike Beyer

Personal Reviews and Portraits You Can Iews!

For just $25 and a self addressed envelope, we will send you a personal review and hand drawn portrait of a friend or lover.
Please make checks out to Eric Roach and send them to
1509 W Sherwin #2S
Chicago IL 60626

Please be sure to indicate the color of person we are drawing, and get ready for a review on CARDSTOCK.

The Watchmen (Movie)

The Watchmen is a movie based on a "graphic novel".
A "graphic novel" is what adults call a "comic book" if they still live with their parents.
This movie and graphic novel is about a group of super heroes, I guess, who all sleep with each other and rape their friends.
The beginning of this movie was very good when they all talked to President Kennedy and there were Bob Dylan songs.
Then, there was a guy with a mask on, but the mask kept changing shapes, which seems neat to the average movie-goer, but to the trained eye seemed like an excuse for not knowing how to make a really badass mask, like a Mexican wrestler. He was pissed at everyone, but mumbled all his lines, so I'm not sure why he was mad.
Also, there was a blue guy with a nice dong who walked around naked all the time, except when he wanted to wear clothes, which just made him seem lazy.
Put some clothes on, dude. I'm sick of seeing your awesome dong.
I don't know what happened at the end, because I fell asleep and the RedBox people kept sending me notices about it being overdue.
All in all, I'd say this is a good date movie, or a good movie to teach kids about rape.
B-
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Emotions (feelings)

Emotions - A Poem Review

Affection-You could get laid.
Anger-Underrated.
Annoyance-Theatre.
Angst-What Germans feel.
Apathy-Wah, you're a fucking baby.
Anxiety-Shit, meet pants.
Awe-YEAH! RIGHT ABOUT NOW IT'S TIME FOR THE NEW STYLE!
Boredom-You'll feel this in a couple more lines.
Compassion-What Republicans feel.
Contempt-Don't do this to Judge Harry Stone.
Curiosity-It's what kills cats...and ringworm does too.
Depression-Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit's GREAT!
Desire-Really good mid-period U2 song.
Despair-Next to Des Plaines.
Disappointment-What you are feeling right now.
Disgust-What I feel towards you.
Ecstasy-I've got it for 20 a tab.
Empathy-What Counselor Troi senses.
Envy-What I felt towards Drew Carey in the late 90s.
Embarrassment-What my parents remind me they feel.
Euphoria-BULLSHIT.
Fear-None of that...you're Genetically Different.
Frustration-People feel this when they are Michael Douglas in Falling Down.
Gratitude-Thanks, bitch!
Grief-Good. See Peanuts.
Guilt-Jews feel this.
Happiness-MORE BULLSHIT.
Hatred-Delicious in my mouth.
Hope-Obama made us all feel this for a few months.
Horror-THE BEST.
Hostility-This is all over the Middle East and the suburbs.
Hysteria-Wonderful Def Leppard.
Joy-A fine girls' name. Think about it if you have a few.
Jealousy- When I watch Price Is Right.
Loathing-Goes with fear and suicide.
Misery-Kathy Bates finest work.
Love-WHATEVS.
Pity-Fools.
Pride-In The Name Of Love.
Rage-The disease in 28 Days Later. FUCK THAT MOVIE.
Regret-Have you had a few?
Remorse-WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
Sadness-Enigma wrote this into a song so weird guys could get laid.
Shame-It's everywhere in my cells.
Suffering-Are you yet?
Surprise-BANG BANG NIGGA!
Wonder-Woman.
Worry-What, me?

-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

Ethnic Foods (Food)

"In most dishes in Chinese cuisine, food is prepared in bite-sized pieces, ready for direct picking up and eating. In traditional Chinese cultures, chopsticks are used at the table." States an article about Chinese food.
Well, that's funny, because when I get Chinese food in the great state of Illinois, I can't pick anything up unless I want to burn myself. So what does this mean? It means that Chinese food in China is always cold.
EXCUSE US FOR MAKING YOUR FOOD BETTER, CHINA.
Now, this is a bad example, and let me try again.
When I think of ethnic food, I think of Mexican food with tacos, chili things and sauce packets with funny messages on it. But if I ONLY thought of those things, I wouldn't be truthful to you or me.
Listen, we all love things with rice, chorizo, General Tzo, or grape leaves, but when we think about those things, we are blocking ourselves from looking at the really, really nasty things there are to eat out there.
For example, did you know in Pakistan that a piece of garbage covered in a top hat is an officially sanctioned dish?
It's called English Pie.
There is no pie involved at all.
Speaking of England, what about Stargazy pie? That's gross, too.
In Egypt they eat their own hands, and in Kenya they like Dominoes Pizza.
So to simply review Ethnic Foods based on Maple Syrup, Mozzarella Sticks, and Fried Chicken would be irresponsible.
Do you know why poor people like cheeseburgers? It's because everybody likes cheeseburgers. THAT'S what America does. We make things that everyone on this planet likes, and if we didn't make it, we will take credit for it. Did you know that Freedom fries used to be called French fries?!
FRENCH FRIES!!?
YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!!
My girlfriend told me that as a joke while she had our freedom tickler up my America hole.
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, Ethiopia, I'll give you a call when I don't wanna eat for a month and then cover a goat in cinnamon.
But for now, I'll stick to this Angry Whopper and my Muscle Milk.
Ethnic Foods: C-
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Butterfly Wings Causing Hurricanes (chaos theory)

Sometimes, things just happen. Like today, I was on the train and I looked at an attractive lady. This caused the lady to put on sunglasses, which caused me to bump into the guy next to me. He then threatened to cut off my hand, which caused me to pee-pee. And so on, and so on, until a building collapsed in Kuala Lumpur at 9:38 this morning killing 673 people.

Scientists and stand-up comedians call this the Chaos Theory. This theory is weird, because there's almost no way to prove it really exists which I guess is why it's the Chaos THEORY and not the Chaos FUCKING A RIGHT. I don't understand all the numbers associated with this theory, I'll leave that to the Japanese. But understand this: I don't like this theory. Chaos is good in small doses, like keg parties or all night nurse orgies at St. Frances Hospital or sock drawers (I never know what I'm gonna find, am I right, ladies?). But a whole world filled with chaos? Must I really live here? It's like someone woke up (someone = God) one morning and said "Hey man...you know what would be great? If no one knew anything for sure about anything!" And then He just did that.

God is a motherfucking jerkass.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

The Magic Bullet System (amazing blender)

I've used so many blenders. So many. Big ones and silver ones and ones that were specifically for margaritas. I thought I was blended out. But then I saw this little buttplug of a blending SYSTEM and my life changed. Not much, but it did.

The Magic Bullet is a silver device that's no bigger than a coffee cup, but bigger is a relative term. Used for relativity. It's a blender, but it does so many things. I blended up a smoothie, an alfredo sauce, some paint, a t-bone steak, T-Bone Burnett's hair, jelly, a Blaupunkt car stereo, and deer eyes. Within 35 seconds, I had a full meal in my bell-bells and a workman's comp form filled out.

The Magic Bullet (named for what assassinated Kennedy...which is ballsy of Homeland Housewares, which is a division of Homeland Security...wait...what the hell do they have to do with this? Answer: MORE THAN YOU THINK.) comes with items that make your life easy. My favorite is the Shaker Top. You can grind up hard cheeses or salt cubes or something, and screw on the Shaker Top and shake it over your pasta or your eyes. This is a common feature.

All in all, this blender will replace everything in your kitchen and bathroom, and you'll be drinking healthy sauces for the rest of your life which is pretty short. Think about a blender.

It's imperative.
-Eric Roach, Anderson Lawfer

10 cent wings Monday at the Wild Goose Bar (Chicken wings, Restaurant)

Now, I know I'm not the only guy, but I love chicken wings. They are so little and covered in meat, that I want to put all sorts of sauce on them. Specifically Chipotle Lime sauce. This is a sauce that deserves to be put on Angel's Wings. It is red, so it would look like blood on Angel's Wings, which would be better, so then we'd all know how that angel died. I mean, he probably didn't die from chicken wing sauce, as this would be more of a representation. Also, Angels are already dead, so this whole theory is BULLSHIT.
BULLSHIT.
Just like chicken wing night was last night at Wild Goose Bar.
"Oh, honey, I think there's a table opening up."
"Oh,I think you're right."
"Oh, no, wait, they aren't leaving, they are going to the jukebox together as a group to put on more Greenday songs."
"Oh, this place sucks now."
"Oh, it might not be the most best atmosphere, but at least they have Chipotle Lime Sauce. You know, you could put that sauce on Angel's Wings."
"Oh my God, stop saying that."
"Oh, I locked the keys in the car."
"Oh."

Then, we sat down, at a dirty table, that I think was used by wolves for sex and a bar fight before we got to use it, and just then, while I was TRYING to watch t.v., the crazy eyed waitress came over and explained very rationally to me that they were out of the Chipotle Lime Sauce and had been for weeks, and I should've remembered that from last Monday, or the Monday before.
Just then, I explained to her that she was on the verge of receiving a complimentary box-punch, and an elbow to the mouth.
We agreed to disagree, and she happily brought us the wings with other sauces that I wouldn't even dare ASK an Angel to put on it's wings. (BBQ, Mild, Hot).
Then, we paid our $2 tab and went back out into the world.
All in all, this place is pretty good.
B+
-Anderson Lawfer, Eric Roach

Monday, August 3, 2009

Forrest Gump (movie) GUEST REVIEWER Quierkki Boerkenhagan

I like chocolate and I also like boxes so someone told me to watch this movie and I like it but I don’t get it. There is this boy and there is something wrong, like, retarded wrong with his legs and there is also something wrong with his head. Maybe he fell on it? Anyway, when he is growing up, his mom is Norma Rae. His first girlfriend is Jenny and she doesn’t mind that he is a retard, so they sit together on the bus. One day, he is going to get his ass kicked in, so Jenny yells at Forrest to run and he really likes to run so he runs and runs and runs until his leg thingies just fall right off! Then he is not retarded in the legs anymore but he still is in the head. He meets lots of famous people by accident. Then he meets this colored man, named Bubba who has a sexual shrimp fetish. They met in World War I. Also at the very bad war, they mee, Captain Dan, (who was also really a good actor in the Mice movie where the OTHER retarded guy in that movie kills the bunnies) and he gets shot and has to go into the wheelchair and they become BFF’s cause now they are both leg-tarded. Well, Forrest isn’t really anymore, but he remembers. So all this time, Forrest is looking for Jenny but he can’t find her because she is running around everywhere fucking hippies. But one day, Jenny feels bad for Forrest and then they have hot gnarled sex. WELL. She gets pregnant and then she dies and that is a really really bad part, but his son is just like Forrest but he is NOT damaged at all! They live happily ever after and hang out with people on benches. I thought the camera guy did a pretty good job most of the time and the clothes they wore were so funny. The end.

Sunday's Circulars (Newspaper Coupons) GUEST REVIEWER CORRI FEUERSTEIN

Sometimes this morning I read the paper. Not just any sheet of paper like the things what I write down Lotto numbers on. Envelopes, those are called. But I read the newspaper. Some folks think that the Newspapers of today won't be around tomorrow because you can read the News on your pinkberry. I think that's faux.
I read the paper to relax and to laugh. Because only the Newspaper News has the funnies. And For Better of For Worse is like they're seeing my life and making it hilarious! God Bless them.
But one of the things I really love about Newspapers are the circulars and coupons. I don't know why they call them circulars because I have to cut squares around the dotted lines for the coupons. They should call them squares! But they probably don't want to do that because then people will think that coupons aren't cool. Like saving $0.35 off my next purchase of Meow Mix in a 30 lb bag isn't cool. It IS cool! Cool as ICE! There aren't ever coupons for ice.
When my children want to cut the coupons, I give them safety scissors so they won't hurt themselves while cutting and staring at Dora the Explorer on tv. God Bless Dora and her Exploras.
As I relax with my cup of coffee, I think about the money I'm going to save going to the store with my coupons to the Jewelstore, the Kohls and suchlike. I wasn't going to go shopping because we don't need anything, but if I go with coupons I'll save more. And that's shopping smart. I love the circulars and the savings I get on diapers even though my kids are 5 and 7.
You should read them with coffee...and then take them to save money on coffee!