Re-Post Tuesday: Tayday (Unregistered)

On Friday I may have cast some aspersions on young Taylor Swift, so today I’m here to recompense. She was more than serviceable as host, splendid in song, and turned out one of the finest monologues in recent memory. Judge for yourself. Then stop judging.

Name me two things you don’t like about this girl, and if one of them is her black, soulless eyes I’m calling you out as a retinal racist: Jaundiced eye! Jaundiced eye! Play her album once all the way through. Young or old, I defy you to not give your 15 year-old self a hug. Does all this sound gay to you? My God, can you turn off your prejudices for five stupid minutes? Since the episode I’ve downloaded her album and listened to it countless times, staring off into space dreaming of my own heart’s desire. Okay, prejudices aside, that last sentence WAS pretty gay. Whatever. I’m a Romeo looking for my own gosh darn Juliet. I don’t wanna be alone! These are song lyrics, seriously, stop judging.

Two for Tuesday: Buy one recompense, get one free. Apologies to DERRICK Comedy and you, the reader. DERRICK put out their first online video in two years last week and I forgot to post it. What can I say? I’m a jackass. What else can I say? The kings are back, y’all!

Good luck not singing that chorus all day at work. I’d play you Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me” to reset your melody memory, but it’s been posited that listening to that DERRICK parody right before Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me” leads to the rape of a child. It’s an explosive combination; the musical equivalent to Coke and Pop Rocks (but instead of spewing fizz it spews jizz…in a crying child….ewwww). Okay, try it once, one raped child never hurt anyone. Except the raped child. And their family and community. And then everyone that child future rapes. I guess when you really think about it, one raped child could lead to the downfall of civilization. That’s heavy stuff, man. You never think about that when you’re in the moment.

Eh, try it one time just to see what happens. Y’know, in the name of science.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Basketball Who?

NBA Basketball season starts today and the big question on everyone’s minds is: NBA Basketball season starts today? Yes, it does, and I’m as shocked as you are. It seems like just yesterday I was saying, “Thank God basketball season is over.” Maybe the off-season got shorter; maybe it’s the lack of climate shift in LA messing with my head; or maybe time just flies. But seriously: When did it become fucking late October???

With basketball’s return we embark on the two-week period each year when all the major sports are active at the same time. I like sports, quite a bit actually, but these two weeks are a massive overload. Sports are a nice dessert, but I don’t want them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Someone asks if you saw the game last night and you wonder what sport he’s even referring to. It’s just too much of a good thing. I’m reminded of living back home in Detroit at the end of July/beginning of August when 90% of my friends have birthdays within a ten-day span. By week 2 I’d find myself saying, “Alright, cake. Enough is enough already.” And then I’d get a wicked case of heartburn. (I’m convinced that heartburn is your inner child jabbing you in the chest as revenge for you doing, saying, or feeling something old-seeming.)

I’m digressing. A few people have wondered about the future of A FENNIS FOR DEMBO; namely, if there will be a future. The answer is: I don’t know. Keeping up with two blogs while writing scripts, getting inebriated, and passive-aggressively searching for work is a lot to handle. I would like to say we will absolutely be providing humorous coverage of this and every basketball season, but the reality is I forgot about basketball season. I’m not sure that’s what you want out of your hoops blogger.

So I guess the tentative answer is: No, LA Dubbs and BA Brokeass won’t be back for the beginning of basketball season. But we might meet up with you somewhere down the line. Probably as soon as something gay, racist, ignorant, or violent happens. Which could be as soon as today or as far off as never. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime: Enjoy more goddamn sports!

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Funny And/Or True

Brilliant bit from Louis CK on Conan the other night. Nothing is ever actually funny BECAUSE it’s true. This succeeds at being truly funny and funnily true, which is about as close it gets.

Also, SNL is new tomorrow night with Gerard Butler: A man who knows the key to comedy is not timing, but intensity. Cower at the feet of this promo:

Whenever tough guys make appearances on SNL they go way overboard trying to compensate for that acute masculinity. There is lots of singing and dancing; talking about feelings; some gay themes. In the entertainment industry toughness is something you want to be able to turn on and turn off, much like a 2am booty call or a Gerard Butler movie. Expect to know what Mr. 300 looks like as a lady before the end of the night. This is NOT funny, BECAUSE it’s true.

Have a fine friendly weekend, freakniks! Fuck, fight, forgive!

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

A Letter to Dexter (Just Killin’ Time)

Dear TV’s Dexter,

Everything about you screams serial killer. I am constantly amazed that no one ever looks at your cold, emotionless, Jeffrey Dahmer face or hears your soft, monotonic, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer voice and says, “Wow. That guy’s the portrait of a serial killer.” I couldn’t detect smoke if my pants were on fire and even I’m onto you. You’re a serial killer.

Also, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, but you look a lot like that uptight gay guy from Six Feet Under, who I also thought was a serial killer.

Love the show and plan on following in your footsteps,

Ben the Blogger

p.s. Me and my readers can keep our mouths shut. Please don’t serial kill us, serial killer.

p.p.s Serialously.

I’m a Weezy F’in Baby

Staying at my mom’s house, inhaling air composed of one part oxygen and one part cat dander, I am reminded once again that allergies aren’t just propaganda offered up by the liberal Jew media. Them shits is real.

Cats aren’t my only allergy; they’re not even my big one. All my life I’ve been allergic to artificial sweeteners, which I think explains both the migraines I get from Diet Coke and fake niceness. But that’s not the big daddy allergy either.

Here’s the doozy: Recently I learned that I’m allergic to beer, which is sort of like being allergic to manhood. As a hetero male, sipping a pink mixed drink at a bar is the equivalent to tucking your penis between your legs. It doesn’t mean you’re gay, just that you have an unattractive, nonfunctional pussy. In other words, you’d be better off gay.

But I can’t even get away with that because plenty of gay men drink beer. In fact, some of my best friends are gay men who drink beer. Well, one of my best friends is a gay man who drinks beer. How many gay best friends am I supposed to have?

The point is, being gay has nothing to do with allergic reactions to beer. Being gay is an allergic reaction to vagina. And sports. And denim. Basically everything that lesbians love. The only pussies they’re allergic to are heterosexual men. We’re the new fags.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.