New title for Medium

Given the current state of Patricia Arquette, word in Hollywood is the name of the show Medium is being changed to "Large."

Worst...sandwich...ever

Last night I was running a little late and decided to pick up dinner on the run. The McDonalds I passed didn't have anyone at the drive-through window so I pulled up there. But since I am trying to eat at least a little healthier, I decided to explore the menu a little further rather than order my usual #2 value meal (Quarter Pounder with Cheese for the uninitiated).

As I scanned the menu I spotted something that sounded like it fit the bill -- a grilled chicken club sandwich. Boneless, skinless grilled chicken breast with lettuce and tomato on a bun. "Order me up one of those," I declared.

I paid, picked up the bag with my sandwich, opened it up, pulled it out and took my first bite, which I expected to be an excursion to flavor country. Instead, what I found is that the McDonalds grilled chicken club sandwich tastes roughly like feet after three days on a campout. (Don't ask how I know.) In other words, it was awful.

I was hungry so I managed to choke it down, but every bite was painful. Look, I like to eat. It's one of my favorite passtimes. So eating something like this was torture.

I think the main culprit was the fake "smoke" sauce. You know the type -- it's supposed to make food taste like it's been grilling in a smoker all day. But what it actually does is make it taste like someone put crappy fake smoke sauce on it. Added to the bland chicken breast itself it left nothing to enjoy. And I'm sure the dollop of mayo they threw on there pretty much killed any health benefits I might've thought I was getting.

If living longer means eating food like that, bring me a Quarter Pounder with Cheese and I'll just check out early. Don't waste your money.

The smell of Christmas

I was at the store a couple of weeks ago when I saw something that struck my impulse to buy. It was one of those little wooden house thingies you use to burn incense. The signage talked about how you could have the scent of fresh balsam pine wafting gently through the house, bringing back warm memories of Christmas past. It promised to bring the scent of a real Christmas tree to the world of fake ones, the scent that you remember from your childhood.

Now, understand that growing up we never had a real tree. I shouldn't say never. I think we may have had one for a couple of years after I was born, because I've seen it in those old black and white pictures that are now stored in some unknown location in my house. But my Dad, who didn't like the hassle of picking out a tree or disposing us, bought a fake tree just as soon as they were mass-produced enough to come down to a dirt cheap price. It wasn't aluminum, thank God, but it was pretty much some metal sticks with some flat plastic strands sticking out of them.

So in truth, the scent of Christmas I really remember is more a combination of non-descript plastic and attic. But I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for the smell of pine in the home, so a couple of days later I bought the little house (which comes with 10 sticks of balsam pine incense) and brought it home, anxious to get my old-fashioned Christmas started.

I quickly opened the package, read the directions and started to fire up the first "log." That's an adventure in and of itself. They tell you to hold the little log sideways, light it so there is a sustained flame, then turn it so you can put it in the little holder inside the house in a vertical direction. Well, that may works for the ladies with skinny fingers who designed it. But with my fat fingers I nearly A) dropped it, which would set the little house on fire (do you then have to call for a little fire department? and B) suffered second degree burns as it tried to squeeze my fat fingers into the house to install the incense. All that was missing was me reciting the entire Greek alphabet backwards and I could've been a member of Sigma Phi Epsilon.

But I finally did get it in place and put the little roof back on the little house. I watched as the smoke came out of the little chimney, then waited to be overtaken by the sweet scent of the Christmas I Never Had.

A few minutes later, my wife came down the stairs, asking "Is something burning?" Yes, I explained, it's the sweet scent of Christmas past. She said, "It doesn't smell like Christmas. It smells like something is on fire." Then she went back upstairs to continue doing whatever it was she was doing.

Next was my eldest daughter. "Is something burning?" she queried. Yes, I explained again, now more annoyed. It's the sweet scent of Christmas. "It smells awful" she replied. "It's really sickening."

Undaunted, I stepped back and filled my nostrils with the sweet scent of Christmas. It was then that I realized my wife and eldest child were correct. It didn't smell like Christmas. It smelled more like someone had been cutting pine boards and let the saw run too long. Or like someone had dropped the little incense log into the recycling bin, igniting the newspapers in there and thus setting the entire house ablaze. Only with a faintly sweet tinge to it. And that gawdawful smell was now permeating our whole house.

We still have the little house sitting on the counter. I've tried it twice more with the same results -- family members come running into the kitchen looking for the fire extinguisher in the belief that all those Christmas lights we put up around the house have finally fulfilled their potential as a fire hazard. All I can say is thank goodness I didn't let the saleslady at the store talk me into purchasing another 50-pack of incense logs.

I wonder what the little house would smell like when it's burning?

A new (and better) way to run primaries

After watching what's been going on with the primaries for the next election, I think we have it all wrong. In both primaries and elections, it seems like people feel compelled to vote for the candidate they dislike the least rather than the one they like the most (because they don't like any of them).

Years ago the movie Brewster's Millions put out a theory that there should a slot added to the ballot for "None of the above." If that category won, you throw out all the candidates and start over.

While that's great in theory, it would be prohibitively expensive. And it could potentially keep a total disaster in office if neither party put up a viable candidate. So here's my thought.

In the primaries, after each candidate's name, run the name again with the word "not" before it, e.g. Not Hillary Clinton or Not Rudolph Giuliani. At least that way we could find out who are just not viable candidates at all and get them out of there. If the "Not" version wins in at least three primaries, that candidate is out, no matter what else happens.

The same principle could probably be applied to national elections. In this case, the "Not" option would be there so people could voice their strongest objections without having to take a chance on accidentally electing the Libertarian candidate. You wouldn't get to vote against both, but at least you could cast a vote against the candidate who just makes your stomach turn and your bowels inflame at the thought of them taking on the position of the most powerful person on earth (next to Oprah, of course).

If both of the major candidates have more nots than for votes, you'd take the one with the lowest differential. After all, we don't want the Libertarians, Greens, or American Nazi party suddenly getting in; we just allow them to run for show. Again, though, at least having the "not" option gives everyone a chance to kick the respective parties in the teeth and tell them to start finding more qualified candidates.

Go America!

A sure way to stop teenage smoking

This thought occurred to me over the weekend, as I was contemplating the issue of teen smoking. Despite all the legislation and health warnings, teen and young adult smoking continues to be an epidemic and a plague. So here's what we need to do.

We need to get a reputable research house to put out a report that tells boys that if they smoke their dicks will get smaller, and girls that their asses will get bigger. THAT ought to put an end to it once and for all.

New endorsement deal for Britney

Based on the latest news of Britney being hauled out of her house, strapped to a gurney, and put on a 72-hour "mental lockdown" (how do you lock down what isn't there?), I have a new endorsement idea for her.

I think she could be a very credible spokesperson for the General Mills corporation. Specifically, I think everyone would buy it when she says "I'm cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs."

Just trying to help.

Lynne Spears - Mother of the Year

Just when you thought it couldn't get any better, it does. Now it's been announced that 16 year old Jamie Lynn Spears, younger sister of perpetual train wreck Britney, is preggers. Suddenly Britney isn't the biggest sleazebag in the Spears family. At least she waited until she was in her 20s and married to start popping out little trailer puppies.

Kudos to her mom, Lynne, for the fine job she's done bringing up her girls. Could they be any more of a white trash cliche? She gets my nomination for Mother of the Year -- in the Bizzaro World.

OJ is innocent

I know everyone is anxious to see OJ rot in jail and all, but I have conclusive proof that he did not go into that room with the intention to kill or to commit any violence.

Had he been looking to cause harm he would've worn gloves and used a knife. That's his MO. See? Hard to argue with fact.

Pay Per View idea

Ok, I have it. The ultimate pay per view event.

Britney Spears v. Lindsay Lohan in a drinking contest, to be followed immediately by Jello wrestling. Winner gets custody of the "Ultimate Human Train Wreck" trophy for a year, or until she actually completes a rehab stint that works. Whichever comes first.

Brit, you're making it too easy

Had a chance to view Britney Spears' performance at the VMAs over the weekend. The word that has been generally used is "lackluster." That is the understatement of the year.

Watching her dance, she looks like a suburban housewife spending her first night at the bellydancing class offered by the local YMCA. She starts out looking confused, then sort of tentatively walks through the movements. Can this possibly be the same girl/woman who launched a thousand adolescent (and middle-aged man) fantasies?

Where is the bumping and grinding that says "Hey, if you ever quit loving me I can make a living working the pole at Scores in New York?" There's no strut as she walks from stage mark to stage mark. Heck, I've seen sexier walks at the local mall. Perhaps she's guilty of DUI -- dancing under the influence. Whatever it is, it's about as visually interesting as tapioca pudding.

Then there's the "singing" portion. As was widely reported, at some points she doesn't even pretend she's singing. The soundtrack goes on but her lips aren't moving as she looks furtively around, dazed and confused at the all the activity going on around her. At least Ashlee Simpson was aware that she wasn't lip synching to the soundtrack on SNL and seemed embarrassed. Brit looks like she doesn't care. Talk about phoning it in! The fembots in the Austin Powers movies looked less mechanical and brain dead than Brit.

My prediction? Next stop is Penthouse. Or maybe Hustler if those dark marks on her legs turn out to be bruises instead of shadows.

Suddenly Lindsay Lohan doesn't look so bad.

I Know What Brit's Doing

It's taken me a while to figure this out, but I'm finally onto what our pal Britney Spears is up to. She is not having a meltdown. She is not under pressure to produce. She has not finally gone 'round the bend.

Here's the truth, plain and simple: She just can't stand for any of her peers to get attention. When they do, she behaves like a little kid running around in her underwear at a family gathering to see the new baby, yelling "Look at me too, look at me too!"

Look at the facts. LiLo gets busted for DUI shortly after leaving rehab. Suddenly Brit is throwing a fit at an OK Magazine photo shoot, destroying designer dresses with poop from her dog. (For those who don't get their hair cut in cheap shops, OK Magazine is the poor man's People. It's like the generic house brand snack cake is to Ho Hos, including the nutrition value.)

Paris gets caught with no panties, and suddenly Brit is showing the goods for the world to see. I can't remember what happened right before she shaved her head, but I know there was something.

It's sort of like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones in '60s. The Beatles come out with Sgt. Pepper, and a few months later the Stones follow on with Satanic Majesties. It's just a copycat game, trying to make sure that her rivals don't get all the attention.

Well, the jig is up. You've been exposed (no pun intended). You can go back to being just a normal 25-year-old mother of two with a room temperature IQ and a disdain for healthy foods.

An open letter to Kelly Clarkson

Dear Kelly,

First of all, let me start by saying that even though I am older than dirt I actually am somewhat of a fan. I liked the song "Since You've Been Gone" a lot, as well as some others whose names I don't know. Can't say that I've actually heard the new album due to a lack of airplay, but I'm sure it's interesting.

I've never watched AI so I don't know you from there, but I did suffer through "From Justin to Kelly" when my teenage daughter wanted to watch it, and it wasn't completely horrible. I found you very engaging and cute despite the material.

Finally, I've seen some interviews with you and you seem like a very intelligent, well-grounded young woman. The kind a father would be proud to have for a daughter, or a daughter-in-law for that matter (although I know you're not interested in getting married). To the best of my knowledge you've never been photographed without wearing panties either, which is good.

I give you this long preamble so you know that I like you, and I care as much about you as a regular person can care about a celebrity. So it is with nothing but love and affection that I must ask you:

WTF is up with you and the clothes you wear? I know the women of your generation like to wear tight jeans and midriff-baring shirts and all, but sweetheart it is just not your look. I mean seriously -- do you not own a mirror? If you do, I'd like to know where you got a mirror that you can look into looking like this and say, "Yeah, I look good!" I could use one of those.

Let's face the facts. You are rather bottom-heavy -- pear-shaped the less tactful would say -- with a short waist and a few extra pounds around the middle. In some outfits you look like your fashion consultant is the Sheboygan Sausage factory. It's ok not to have a perfect Supermodel body. Even the Supermodels get a little help from the retouchers. But you have to know you don't have it and then dress accordingly. You are not long, lanky Heidi Klum. You are short and slightly chunky Kelly Clarkson. Deal with the reality.

If you want to see how a vocal superstar with a bit of a weight issue handles herself, pick up any album from the 1970s Linda Rondstadt collection. Every guy I knew back then had a crush on her despite a tendency to chunk up between photo shoots. She wore peasant blouses and long, flowing dresses that rendered her body, shall we say, indistinct. She let her cute face, and her great voice carry the load.

So Kelly, darling, sweetheart. I beg you. Please. Forget the tight jeans and the bare midriff -- leave them to Christina or Avril, who can wear them well. Take a good, hard look in the mirror, or at the photo above, and find some clothes that suit you better. We'll all be a lot happier.

Love and kisses,

Ken

And Robert Downey Jr. Award Goes To...

...Lindsay Lohan. This award is really a lifetime achievement award for dedication and commitment to allowing multiple stints in rehab to have no affect on your behavior whatsoever. It is named, of course, for well-known substance abuser Robert Downey Jr., who has made a career out of destroying his career. Every time it gets resurrected he manages to go off the wagon and do something really stupid that lands him in jail.



According to the news reports, La Lohan was arrested yesterday not only for DUI and obnoxious behavior toward the mother of her former assistant but also for having some cocaine in her pocket. That girl must be dumb as a box of rocks.



Lindsay, you just got out of rehab -- rehab for an incident caused when you were too young to even be drinking, let alone imbibing illegal drugs. I know it's an addiction and all, but surely the people at the Malibu Alcohol and Drug Rehab Treatment Facility must've made some impression on you for the six weeks+ you were their guest. Or did you just stop off for a celebratory Margarita on your way home from there?



I know when I get a speeding ticket I at least try to watch my speed for the next few weeks. But La Lohan? No way! She gets out of rehab with a DUI pending and spends her day driving drunk and chasing after people she's mad at.



Well, Lindsay, I've got news for you. Even the Beverly Hills police will only tolerate so much. Perhaps this time you'll find yourself living a real-life sequel to Mean Girls, only this time they come after you with broomsticks instead of "burn books." You might want to ask Paris for a few prison fashion tips.


In any case, congratulations Lindsay on a job well done. RDJr himself is no doubt proud.

And she's back

Glad to see that over the weekend Paris not only went back into the big house (and I don't mean her parents' palatial estate), but the judge made the whole thing a do over so she learns a lesson about trying to flout the law.

There's a judge who would get my vote if I lived in California. Of course, knowing Paris she'll put out a recording of the old Bobby Fuller Four song "I fought the law" and make millions off of it. But hey -- there's only so much the justice system can do.

Paris gets sprung early

Just saw the news that Paris Hilton has been released from her forced incarceration after a hellish four days in the Century Regional Detention Center. Thank God! Just the thought of poor Paris sitting there alone for nearly 96 hours, doing her nails, reading fan mail, and living without the comforts of a double latte and her precious little punting dog made me so sad. It is good to see justice served.

The reason that was given was some unspecified medical dilemma. No word on weather it was physical or psychological, but I'm betting it had something to do with hair extensions.

The good news is Paris says she has "...learned a great deal from this ordeal and hope(s) that others have learned from (her) mistakes." Uh huh. What has she learned?

My guess is that she has learned the valuable lesson once again that the rich and famous are above the law. I'll bet if she was Paris the poor, drunken crack whore she'd be serving the full sentence and maybe then some for whining.

Gotta love this country.

For Paris, orange is the new black

So, Paris Hilton is now in the slammer serving her time for being an idiot. She's in solitary confinement for 23 hours a day according to the newspapers. Could there be a worse punishment for her than 23 hours a day without a camera on her? Except, of course, for the secret hidden cameras the guards put in there so they can watch her get naked and do all sorts of nasty things.

Can Paris stand it? Do I care? Not really. Jail is probably a walk in the park for her. Sure it's grimy and all, but no more so than that farmhouse from the first season of The Simple Life.

What she really needs is a good spanking. Any volunteers to give it to her? My other suggestion is to put her pal Nicole Ritchie in charge of her diet while she's there. That ought to teach her!

Interesting survey from Money

Saw in a Time Magazine blog that Money Magazine did a survey on ethics and money that will be appearing in the June issue. One of the things they found in polling workers is:

• When asked what they’d be willing to do to advance in their career, 6% of survey respondents said they’d be willing to sleep with their boss or someone else who can help them get ahead. Of this 6%, respondents tended to be young, single and 10 times more likely to be men than women.

Somehow I have to guess that the men in that 6% would also sleep with their boss or someone else even if they didn't think it would help them get ahead. We guys are kinda funny that way.

Gasoline conspiracy theory

Ok, stay with me on this one. I think I've figured out what's going on with the price of gas here in the good ol' USA. It has all the intrigue of a Robert Ludlum novel.

It all goes back to Al Gore and his movie "A Convenient Truth." When that movie first came out, gas prices were as low as they'd been in a long time. Then Gore starts stumping against global warming and how we're killing the planet with hydrocarbon emissions. He begins calling for stricter controls, reductions in consumption, and other things that threaten the ready supply of cash enjoyed by the oil companies.

If these changes are instituted they will eat into oil company profits. They will also cause the price of gasoline to go up. So the smart guys at the oil companies say hey, let's give the people a little taste of what all this will cost. See how they like putting $4/gallon gas in their oversized SUVs for a while. A few months of pain and perhaps they'll see the light. They'll tell Al Gore that they wish there was something that could be done, but it's just too darned expensive. At that point we'll be happy to let them do what they want as long as the price stabilizes around $2.50.

Paranoid? Maybe. But crazier things have happened.

New Mark Prior jersey available

Just heard the news today that the Chicago Cubs are going to sell a new Mark Prior jersey. They will be charging more for it this year than last, despite the fact that only one of the arms works.

Now it makes sense

When I was a senior in high school, we had elections for class president. My class, being somewhat rebellious, decided to elect one of the kids from the special ed class as president. His name was Roy Roberts, I think. This was not done as a kind and thoughtful gesture, throwing a kid with little else going for him a bone. We did it because we thought it would be funny, and probably because we thought it would make a statement about our attitude toward the student government, and government in general. After all, it was 1973 when he was elected. Mostly, though, we did it to be funny in that mean-spirited sort of way only teenagers and Asian students at Virginia Tech can manage.

What got me thinking about that was the continuing coverage of that Sanjaya guy on American Idol. I have never watched that show, nor do I care to, but even I know who he is. He's the guy with the homohawk haircut who apparently doesn't sing very well but keeps getting voted forward. I've come to realize that Sanjaya is America's Roy Roberts. He's that special ed kid everyone keeps voting for because it's funny to do.

Of course, there is another theory that the rival networks are paying people to vote for him on the assumption that if he wins it will bring the #1 show in American TV crashing down. (How pathetic is that, by the way? An updated version of your middle school's variety show is #1?) I suppose it's a possibility but that's just cynical.

I prefer to think of it in more positive terms. America is simply voting for the retarded kid so we can all point and laugh. And that's what makes this country great.