Limits

Two emails I received this morning:

1. I just found out that McNulty (or the actor who plays him) is having a garage sale tomorrow. I can find out the address if you're interested. I'll be in C________ for most of the day - so I won't be able to go. But I figured you might like to see if you can buy his underwear or something.

2. Okay, it could be Wire goodies (props and such, since they're done filming) or it could be other crap. Either way, tt all goes down in the garage behind the Assembly building over in Hampden, 12-2. 2031 Clipper Park Rd, 21211. I guess I'd say get there early 7 or 8, if you plan on going. Just a heads up.

And my response:

Thanks for the heads up, but I think I'll be passing on the opportunity to dangle from Dominic West's nuts and fawn over his temporary Ikea furniture. I like to think my fandom of that show has some limits. If I ever attend a celebrity yard sale, kill me.

It is good to know that my friends have such a high opinion to think I would be interested in such bullshit.

But the rest of you should have at it. Dominic West: boxers or briefs? Here is your big chance to find out. You might be able to score his second hand tupperware. Can you imagine? Licking a tupperware container that once belonged to a second/third tier celebrity actor. This could be your bargain basement brush with greatness.

I’m All Atwitter

Starting next week, I’m going to have a new fictional neighbor in my building from the awsomist show in the history of television.

If, during the shooting, I happen to run into her in the elevator, I’m going to beg her to brutalize the ever living shit out of me. I mean to just wail on my face and leave it a black and blue bloody mess. That way, when my friends ask me what the hell happened, I can proudly mumble through missing teeth, swollen lips and a broken jaw, “Kima did it.”

I’ll totally feel like Marsha Brady when Davy Jones kissed her on the cheek:

*

Only Baltimore style.

*Okay, I couldn’t find the exact scene I was looking for; but if Kima says no, I’ll feel exactly like Marsha did when that studio shill wouldn’t let her meet him.

No Booze or Porn for the Brownies

So Australia is banning the sale of alcohol and pornography in Aboriginal areas within the Northern Territory.

Wow. That is some pretty outrageous stuff. Now, seeing how the Northern Territory is not an Australian State, I can understand a justification in the banning of alcohol and pornography to the population as a whole. Even if the intent was to target the large Aboriginal minority there, I think the international community would be at a loss to address the obvious racial overtones. But that isn’t going to happen, is it? After all, the northern coast is a popular vacation destination.

What I don’t understand is how a government can target a discriminatory law toward a race of peoples and not be subject to United Nations trade sanctions. But of course, that isn’t going to happen, is it? After all, Australia is targeting Aboriginals for their own benefit, and Australia is considered a civilized nation.

Should we do the same thing to Native Americans and Catholic priests here? Der. Of course not, because even if the intent would potentially be altruistic, you can’t get away with that shit in a democratic society. But I guess all democracies are not created equal.

I wonder if John Howard is going to give up alcohol and internet porn for the duration of this social experiment? Given my experience with Australians, I think this is doubtful. Oops. My bad. Was that discriminatory of me? So what? It isn't like my opinion is a law or something.

Sophie’s Voice

Has anyone seen this story about a managing editor at the Baltimore Examiner pointing a gun at his neighbors over a dispute about him smoking in his own home?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone pointing a gun at your neighbors, *especially* when that neighbor is holding a child in his hands; but man, what a passive aggressive, whiny, bitch of a human this neighbor, David Paul Ayers, is?

Police said in a detailed report that Keegan has been involved in a long-running dispute with David Paul Ayers, 38, who has complained about cigarette smoke coming from Keegan's rowhouse.

The latest argument started after 11 last night. Police said Ayers complained that smoke was seeping into his home and his daughter, Sophie, was having trouble breathing. Ayers called for a paramedic and he, carrying his child, and his wife Christine went next door to confront Keegan.

Ayers told police that he pounded on Keegan's front door and heard someone say, "You [expletive] lunatics, get away from my door." Ayers told police that he shouted back through a first-floor window, "'Look at what you're doing to my daughter.'"

Good Lord, over dramatic much? Yes, I am sure that your child was suffocating to death because you could smell a lit cigarette through an open window. It is a wonder the human race didn’t die out from second hand smoke in the last century. Forget the Holocaust! Forget slavery! Second hand smoke is indeed history’s greatest blemish on humanity.

Had you not been carrying your child at the time, which in itself was grossly negligent, given that the house was a veritable cancer cube and your daughter is obviously more delicate than a tuburcular orchid, I would be nominating Frank J. Keegan as man of the year.

I wish passive aggressive Bitchism was a felony.

Our Boys In Blue

Off-duty officers thwart strip club robbery attempt

That’s our boys. Always on the job.

“Flex squad this, bitches!”

*BLAM!* *BLAM!*

Who needs Tarentino movies when you live in The Greatest City in America?

Get In On It.

Not Hate Mail From the Old Blog

Obviously, I haven’t been too into maintaining this new blog, which is perfectly fine for me. In lieu of actual material, here is another email exchange, only this time with someone who isn’t a complete douche:

(Bold Him, Italics me)

Him: ok, ok, i said i wasnt going to hunt down your new blog, but crumbling. i stumbled onto [old blog] months ago and bookmarked it. keep checking back to see if the shut down was a ruse. the work day is too long and your blog made me laugh. any hint as to the new location?

non-stalkingly,
Mr. Butterworths

Me: I just googled “mr. butterworths” to make sure you weren’t a clever aunt or sister tricking me into giving out my new address. Unless you had the foresight, clever aunt or sister, to create a blog last august and invent an identity as a hopkins researcher to sucker me into giving you my new blog address, then you are a complete stranger, which qualifies you for the new address.

I hope that wasn’t too stalkey of me.

If you are a clever aunt or sister, then you’ve earned the new address with your dastardly subterfuge. Don’t get too offended when I make fun of how fat you’ve gotten. There’s just more of you to love. You can still find mister right. But then again, we’re family. I’m sort of required to say that.

New blog address:

http://downbydukiesplace.blogspot.com/

Be forewarned, though, I have not been updating it. I might get back into it, but then again, I may not.

toodles,

Dukie

p.s. Your blog is funny.

p.p.s Can I have the phone number of the pregnant 17 [year old] drug addict* that was checking you out? She seems more my type, homo.

p.p.p.s. I say “homo” respectfully. Some of my best
hot dreams are gay.

p.p.p.p.s. That was a joke. My hot gay dreams are terrible. Not that there is anything wrong with them, of course, but the dream dudes are all very inexperienced.

p.p.p.p.p.s I may post this email.

Him: Thanks tiger, and good news, you are sister and auntie free.

I'll be sure to pass along the next teen preggers i find in the hallways. Admitting total shame by paraphrasing a quote from Patch Adams, you know she puts out, so game on.

I’ve never seen Patch Adams. It must be some gay movie. I’ll probably rent it under cover of darkness... in a neighborhood I’m not likely to run into any of my friends.

*That should make for some interesting google hits.

Hate Mail From the Old Blog

Months ago, on the old blog, I wrote a post acknowledging/making-fun-of Eddie Van Halen for becoming a crazy old meth addict and the resultant him-looking-like-a-crazy-eighty-year-old-womanism. Some stranger came across this post and sent me an email expressing his displeasure with me.

Here is our exchange (him in bold):

Him: While not a tremendous fan of Van Halen, it's indisputable that Eddie Van Halen is among the 5 most influential guitarists of the last 50 years - and all you can focus on is the fact that he looks like shit.

Who the fuck are you? What the fuck do you do besides sniff celebrities assholes? Grow up and suffer a little yourself. You may learn some valuable lessons - asshole.

Me: BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Him: Your bad vibes will undoubtedly smack you upside your pussy little head fool. The sooner the better.

Me: MY bad vibes? This coming from someone who went to the trouble of seeking out a stranger’s email to send that stranger hate mail? People who live in glass houses filled to the rafters with piss and vinegar shouldn’t throw stones. You are angry and hostile. I am quite happy and amused by all of this. Who is it, exactly, who has all of the bad vibes?

Maybe if you didn’t listen to so much power rock and invested in some easy listening music, you could workout some of your own “bad vibes” issues.

Him: Went to the trouble to seek out a stranger's e-mail?? It's right there on your freaking blog idiot. My bad vibes? No, sorry. It's my rage at freaks like yourself who lack compassion and empathy for those in pain.

Me: Hey, I figured out why you are so angry. You are on meth, aren't you? YOU'RE METH CRAZY! All just tweaking on your computer, sending off crazy/angry hate mail.

Him: Man - or miss - you have no fucking idea who the fuck I am or what the fuck I do. And I suggest we leave it at that.

Me: Oh, of course not. You started this. Finish it. Tell me all about your "rage." Tell me about your pain. Enlighten me about human suffering. How can I embrace empathy if I am not taught by thoughtful individuals, such as yourself, how to feel?

Him: No my friend. Actually, you started it with your "catty" litttle post about Eddie Van Halen.

Me: Tell yourself whatever you want. I'll be too busy learning empathy. First, I'm going to kiss a bunch of puppies and kittens. Then, I'm going to read all the
thank you mail I get from my sponsor children in Africa. Klik Klak's village is going to get a new well thanks to my donations! At church, we're all going to clasp hands and send him a celestial prayer hug. And now, thanks to your help, I am one step closer to learning how to cry. Thank you!

Oh yes, also, thank you for finally sending me an email that isn't full of F bombs, Mr. Teach-me-empathy. We're both getting a little closer to the good vibes, aren't we? You're listening to Joni Mitchell too, aren't you?

Him: Oh wait, I forgot. You're a tough dude. Engaged in the manly pursuit of - online gossip columnist. I apologize. In your line of work, one simply can't afford to be a weak kneed wimpering bleeding heart like me. You gotta be strong to sit behind that laptop and make fun of
people. Where do I sign up? I could use some toughening up and the thought of joining the service and having a couple of limbs blown off in Baghdad is just sooooooooo unappetizing! Also, maybe I could get to meet some hot ladies, like Anne Coulter.

Me: See, now you're just not making any sense. What the hell does exploding limbs and Anne Coulter have to do with kissing puppies and Eddie Van Halen? Have you somehow assumed that my politics must be the opposite of yours, whatever the hell your politics are? After all, I am sure that you have assumed that I represent all that is evil, while you represent all that is good, so obviously we must have opposite politics, as I obvs. vote for satan. weirdo.

Update: His final email.

Him: Gotta sing off now. But I do have to tip my hat - you're obviously pretty smart or you couldn't keep up with me. Why not us the smarts for something other than celebrity bashing? All the best. Peace!

Gee whiz, I’m so thankful that he is willing to acknowledge that I was able to “keep up” with him. I must be one clever cookie to be able to do that.