Rosie O’Donnell Plays Retarded

I know it’s a politically incorrect term, but when you watch this, I think you’ll agree that it’s somehow apropos.

I had read where Rosie was doing this movie, but I didn’t watch it.  I know that seeing these bits of video out of context isn’t fair, but holy shit.

A.I. – Back From The Future

I just returned from the future – from about 6 hours in the future, to be exact.  I went into the future so I could give you an advanced rundown of tonight’s American Idol televisionistic presentation.

Tonight, on American Idol…

Well, Ryan came out to an unbelievably large audience of maniacal fans.  One sign that stood out to me, held by a chubby 13 year old girl, said:  "Scotty, You Terroridol Me!!"… Cute.  Ryan was wearing a tight black t, with a dark brown suit jacket and dark jeans.  His hair was tossled just so.  He introduced the judges, and while doing so, made an innuendo-joke about Simon swallowing a turnip.  Simon retorted with a comment on Ryan’s lack of any talent for anything.  Oh those two, when are they gonna get married!
Then it was time for Ryan to introduce the pre-recorded segment when he tells the group about tonight’s genre.  He runs in to the Coke Room and shows them all pictures of feces.  After Vonzell guesses "the same type of shit we’ve been singing forever" and Scotty guesses "I hate my dad!", Ryan tells them "No, tonight’s genre is songs that have moved you."  So, you know, that’s gonna be shitty.
First up is Vonzell.  She’s wearing some rock-hard faded denim pants, a navel-showing pink short-t, and a black leather jacket.  She’s chosen  Climax At The End Of Movie from Disney’s animated feature "Humanimal" because, as she says "Climax At The End Of Movie was so great and made me and my Mom cry when we saw it with the twins."  It’s not an uptempo song, so that’s not good.  Vonzell starts off poorly, but by the end hits some incredible high and sustained notes.  Randy didn’t like it, bro, and thinks it wasn’t her best performance.  Vonzell asks him to be a little more articulate in his criticism, and he says, "you know, it was… okay, but not, I don’t know, you best."  Paula starts to talk about Vonzell’s lipstick choice, and how it glistens in the pretty lights.  But as she’s talking, she gets side-tracked by a moth that flutters by.  Simon says she was "absolutely pathetic" and wishes her "dead" for making him sit through that "festering pile of shit".  Ryan comments about how that relates to the theme of the night, then gives Vonzell’s phone number.
Next up is Bo, and Bo’s wearing the rockin’est most rockin’ clothes you’ve ever laid your eyes on.  For tonight’s show, Bo tells us, he’s chosen  Shitty Song from his favourite BlisterMetal band, Trixxiksiks.  His voice sounds a bit raspy, but it doesn’t matter once the bleeding-from-the-mouth starts.  At this point I begin to miss Constantine, as I imagine him singing this song.  Then I realise that the blood that comes out of his mouth would be fake blood.  Bo forgets a few of the lyrics and replaces them with Indian Yelps.  Randy calls this performance "the bomb, man".  Paula purses her lips tight together and begins to make toy-motorboat engine sounds, as spittle flies all about.  Simon declares Bo the King of Bo and all his loyal subjects will no doubt vote him through to the next round.  Ryan comes on and calls Simon "The King of Gay" and Simon retorts with something about how Ryan could be his servant.  Ryan then gives out Bo’s phone details.
Third up is Anthony, or as Ryan calls him "A Dot To The N Dot To The T Dot To The H Dot To The O Dot To The N Dot To The Y Dot…F Dot To the E Dot To The D Dot To The E Dot Again To The R Dot To The O Dot Once More To The V Dot".  Anthony, in his introduction to the song he’s chosen, reminds us that he’s a communist, that he had a tracheal torture  experiment done on him when his family tried to escape Pitymeosk.  He’s chosen Billy Joel’s Piano Man because he loves that he’s still in the competition and this is a song that he could sing.  Anthony does a terrible job of the song and the audience goes crazy when each of the judges says it was terrible.  Even Paula sobers up enough to say it was wonderful.  Ryan reminds us that if you don’t vote for Anthony, the Earth will stop spinning and we’ll all get flung off the earth.
Next is Carrie and she tells us she’s singing Chritina MacCountry’s uptempo song Beaten, Bloodied and Betrothed because she too, knows someone who "once went through the terrible atrocity of wife beating in an entertaining uptempo way".  She sings the hell out of it and the judges all tell her she’s the one to beat.  Nobody gets the joke.  Mostly because none of the judges realised it was a joke.  Ryan says he’d like to beat Simon and Simon says he would like to be beaten by Ryan.  There is an uncomfortable silence as they both, for the first time, speak the truth about their relationship.
Finally, Scott.  He tells us that he has an awful headache and he’s spoken with Jesus about his father, and Jesus said that Scott should punish us for his father’s actions.  Scott lies that he’s chosen Van Halen’s Jump as his song to sing tonight, because, he says, "it moved me, I guess.".  But when Scott comes out on stage, he’s dressed in a long black trenchcoat, and screams that "this is for all the shit!!" and pulls out a semi-automatic machine gun and begins to plug bullets into everyone he can, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs.  Unfortunately the screaming is off-key, and full of trills and bullshit fake-feeling.  Ryan gives us his phone number and bleeds to death.

Bottom Three:  Scott, The Audience, Me for planning to watch.

Leaving on Wednesday:  Scott.

Seacrest, out!

It’s Enough To Make A Pig Say “Huh? Wha’?”

My friend Dave tells me that, among the rather large and curious menu at the new Chinese restaurant in town (close to Cedar’s), the offer:

Onion Rings (no fries)
&
Ham burgers.

I imagined a scenario where all the pigs, who had become relatively comfortable with their lot in the Human Dietary Comsumption Order, gathering around to hear the latest news:

"It’s not good, fellows.  Remember how we used to laugh at the irony of the word "hamburger"?  How we used to mock the cows with it?  Well, seems like the laughing and mockery may be coming to an end.  Seems like the humans have found another way to prepare us."
"Huh?"
"Wha’?"

Tins Non-keen Men’s Theatre

As you might have guessed I’m not a Globe and Mail guy per se. But for
no good reason whatsoever a couple months ago I got hooked on the
Cryptic Crossword at the back of the book review section of Saturday’s
Globe. I think it’s because of the whole anagram thing. You know: you
rearrange the letters to make a new word or phrase out of the given
letters.

So here’s your next assignment. I want you to make an Anagram out of:
The Annekenstein Monster.

It’s Enough To Make A Pig Say "Huh? Wha’?"

My friend Dave tells me that, among the rather large and curious menu at the new Chinese restaurant in town (close to Cedar’s), the offer:

Onion Rings (no fries)
&
Ham burgers.

I imagined a scenario where all the pigs, who had become relatively comfortable with their lot in the Human Dietary Comsumption Order, gathering around to hear the latest news:

“It’s not good, fellows.  Remember how we used to laugh at the irony of the word “hamburger”?  How we used to mock the cows with it?  Well, seems like the laughing and mockery may be coming to an end.  Seems like the humans have found another way to prepare us.”
“Huh?”
“Wha’?”

Red Carpet Sale – Predictions Half Off!!

Here’s my Oscar picks for 2006:

Best Picture:
I imagine they’ll revert back to their nonsensical judication process,
sooo… Harry Potter 4 or War of the worlds.

Best Actor:
This will go to the black actor in a non-comedy role, like Martin
Lawrence in Big Momma’s house 3.

Best Female:
Definatly one of the greats that I used to like when I was younger,
until they became obscure. I can see Bette Middler, or Liza for their
stellar performance in the remake of Gone with the wind.

Best Director:
Let’s see… They might give a sympathy one to Lucas, but I doubt it.
I’ll go with… Eastwood again. People like him.

Best Sound design:
My personal favourite category will be swept again by Scott Millan and
Greg Orloff.

At any rate I’ll give away more annekenstein goodies if any of my
predictions actually come true.

U B Me

Okay, my posting has fallen way off.  I apologise. Or apologize (I can never be sure about the ‘s’ ‘z’ thing).
A few reasons why I’ve not been blogging:  to be honest, I feel like I’ve kinda run out of things to say.  Then I get that "I’m in a slump" feeling and think I need a good posting to get me out of the slump. Then, whenever I begin to write something, I get into it, then an overwhelming "this is a stupid waste of time post" despondency comes over me and I erase it.  Then I build it up in my mind to where the post has to be fantastic before I deem it Monster worthy. Boo hoo, me.

So, I’m in a slump, and who does one turn to when one is feeling down?  Why, one turns to the anonymous and not so anonymous friends who frequent one’s blog.  And so I turn you do, dear reader.  I turn to you with an offer. 

How about you write a post (or two, or three) for me?  The only stipulation is that you need to write it as if it’s me who’s written it.  In my voice (or lack thereof).  Write your The Annekenstein Monster post and email it to me at my email address on the left hand side there… "send it 2 me at gmail dot com"
If I receive any, I’ll most likely post them.  I’ll not indicate, in the posts, which ones were not written by me.  It’ll be a little secret between you and me.  Only I get all the glory, because people will think your excellent words will have come from my brain.

To write like me, I suggest you follow these guidelines:  1) have bad plumbing in your home.  Bad plumbing holds a wealth of blogable material.  Actually, I’m thinking of nailing some holes in the toilet, just so I’ll have something to post about.  2) when driving to work, look at something totally innocuous and vow to write about it.  Good ‘somethings’ are birds by the side of the road, signs, a solitary glove stuck to a branch of a tree (actually, don’t take that one, ’cause I’m writing a great post about the very thing.  oh, what the hell, you can have that one).  3) take a trip to Moncton and then type the boring details of the trip, as if it was interesting. 4) make the Miami Dolphins your favourite sports team.  The disappointment you feel, loss after loss, should be sufficient to encourage you to write "my" blues away.
Remember, I’m rather proud of my "clever" post titles, so if you’re going to submit an "authentic" Rob MacDonald TAM post, please include the sharp title.

Thanks for your help.  I’m sure you all will have no problem out Robbing Rob.

Your My American Idol Recap Has Arrived

I am battling the demons of redundancy, because in a few short minutes, this post will be so yesterday.  In a few minutes, *America* ™ will have its votes revealed to *America* and we’ll all now (even us Canadians) who got sent home.
So, how’d they perform last night?  Well, read on and I dare you to disagree:

Carrie.  She is so bland.  She’d make a perfect country star.  I swear, she is soulless.  She may look pretty (I don’t really think so), but she is empty.  And what’s with Ryan asking her why she has a hard time remembering lyrics?  I heard it as: "You’re stupid."  And this, coming from Ryan.

Bo.  I despise his taste in music.  But I think he is the most genuine contestant remaining.  He seems like a nice guy, just one with an awful hairstyle and the shitty taste in music to go along with it.  He looked ridiculous, of course, and his singing left me empty.  I was glad to see (and this goes for pretty much the entire show) the judges willing to step up their criticisms a bit.  Paula actually seemed coherently observant about what was happening.

Vonzell.  Yo Yo, dude, you just didn’t do it for me tonight, y’know.  I mean, you ended it up real nice, yeah, but that beginning, dog, that was all pitchy and stuff and, I don’t know, you know, it was good, but it wasn’t good good, you know.  Not your best performance, but it was aiight… I thought you sparkled like a shimmering glisten-stick that was left out in the rain and then had to be brought inside to dry off and eat lemming-pie and you glowed like a blossom in the virgin woods… Okay, thanks, Paurla…listen, if I’m being brutally honest, it wasn’t your best performance (audience boos).  Let me finish.  But saying that, I think you have the endorsement of my brain and you could go very far in this competition….(Idol music up, Seacrest out)…Vonerelli!  Man, I thought you brought it, you are totally dug.  Don’t listen to what Simon says, he’s a man that I kid about loving men.
She started out bad.  Real bad, but ended very well.  That’s just not good enough for me.

Anthony.  Aw, A-Fed, I wish you were long gone.  I wish I didn’t have to hear you get oh so slightly better and more comfortable each week.  I wish you had a stronger voice, so that since the girls and gay boys are keeping you in with their votes, at least you’d be tolerable to listen to.  That’s what I wish.  Perhaps your best performance so far, but so all about nothing.  You’re mediocre.

Constantine.  You had me tricked, those last few weeks, what with your good singing and controlled (barely) ego-pout.  But tonight, the lid came off and I saw you for the sad, sexless, pathetic foot-kickin-into-the-camera guy you are.  It was a bad performance lyrically, and, even though the judges claimed it was a good performance physically, I thought you were so slimy.  I hated your performance, and you… listen…you just have to stop that pout thing, ‘kay?  You spent the whole song last night looking for the camera that was on, and singing into it.  Sing to the audience in the room and let the camera do its work.  Ugh, what a piece of crap that was.

Scott.  Worst. Performance. Ever.  A couple of those notes, ouch.  No doubt, you’re going home tonight, Scott.  Just not good enough.  Even Anthony out-sang you.  Ugh.

Bottom Three:  Scott, Vonzell, Carrie

Leaving:  Scott

He(a)r(e) Squared

Is it "Hear! Hear!", or is it "Here! Here!"?

My inclination is to think it’s Here! Here!, but I could see it going the other way too.

Hear! Hear!… as in "Listen to what is being said.  And by me requesting that all around hear what is being said, I am endorsing it!"

or

Here!  Here!… as in "I agree with, and endorse what was just said.  I do.  Me.  Right here.  Here." or "I endorse you, sir. Me, standing here!"

I suppose too, it could be "Hear here!"…as in "Everyone here, in the vicinity of the speaker, hear what he has to say!"

From Nothing…To This

I have come to this particular post having no idea what I am going to post about.  In fact, apart from that initial line, which I thought of as I was waiting for the page to load, the rest of this is free flow, top of my head kinda stuff….so, in other words, likely pretty boring, bad stuff.
I am currently half way through the longest hour of the workday.  I always find from 3 to 4pm to be dreadfully long.  You know, I just paused and re-read those last two lines, about the time there, and I made myself sick.  Sick with the awful feeling that this could be the worst post I ever make, resorting to commenting on the time.  Holy shit!
At least it’s a sunny day, and the forecast for the weekend looks pretty good too, doesn’t it.
Oh, man, drastic action time, so here’s a joke I’m just going to make up right now.  It will not be funny, but it will be completed.

A man who has two left feet walks into a bar and orders a Banana Daquiri.  It’s a rather rough and tumble bar, and the barkeeper, in no polite terms, tells the man that they don’t serve Banana Daquiris.  The man makes a pouty face and whines "But I have two left feet.  Doesn’t that count for something?"
The barkeeper, whose very own recently departed mother had two left feet as well, suddenly felt pangs of guilt and sentimentality.  He broke down and began crying.  One of the tough guys in the bar, who was playing pool with his girlfriend, heard the crying and asked "What the shit is that crying?"
The barkeep was by this point sobbing uncontrollably, so the two-left-footed man took the initiative to answer the question.
"I could tell you the sad tale of the crying barkeep", said the man, "but to do so, I’d have to have sex with your lovely lady there."
The woman, who was sick and tired of beating her boyfriend at pool, spoke up and said "I’ll have sex with you, but first I need to call my two children and tell them I’ll be home later than usual."
The tough guy, who had often expressed to his girlfriend, his desire to participate in a threesome, didn’t interject and instead offered, "That’s okay by my, but I want to be part of the action."
All three agreed, and they decided they’d do the deed right there on the pool table.
However, before they could really get into it, the woman, who had a crippling brittle bone disease, broke in two and died.
This made the tough guy sob.  His wailing added to the still-strong sobs of the barkeep, who was now remembering the last time he spoke to his mother, and how he wished he would have told her he loved her.
Through his pain, the tough guy noticed that Two-Left Feet wasn’t crying.  "How can you not be upset over this?  The cracking in two of the woman I was about to share with you in sexual pleasure gratification?"
To whiche the two-left-footed man replied.  "I’m sorry, but I was told never to cry over split MILF."

The tough guy and the barkeep then punched the shit out of the two left footed guy.

Ugh.  I can barely bring myself to click the submit button to post this.