...please consult the following treasury of put-downs, disses, humiliations, indignities, and general abusive remarks, brought to you by comedienne Rosanne Barr. She's taking aim on actor Jon Voigt and a sorry pair of losers, "Brad and Angelina." Hmph, never heard of 'em.
Rosanne on Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie: “jon voight your evil spawn angelina jolie and her vacuous hubby brad pitt make about forty million dollars a year in violent psychopathic movies and give away three of it to starving children trying to look as if they give a fuck about humanity as they spit out more dunces that will consume more than their fair share and wreck the earth even more.” And that’s tepid compared with what she serves up for Voight himself, George Bush, John Edwards, and his former mistress Rielle Hunter.
Rosanne on Jon Voight: “is a frightened little girl in a pink ballet tutu, who acts like Obama just wandered in from the rain forest with a bone thru his nose and a communist pamphlet in his loincloth. The neocons who own jon voight and make him dance on the chabad telethons are the worst most elitist people on earth. glen beck and jon voight are their bitches… both of them are used tampons who must be flushed down the toilet immediately!”
Googled "Rosanne Barr crazy" and this is what I got
Note that Frank Sinatra is mentioned on both candidate's lists. Is he like the definitive wink-wink nudge-nudge to the elderly demographic now?
In preemptive memoriam
I erected an altar
of stacked moving boxes
and partitioned the structure
into two steeples
segregated by the fate
"keep" or "toss"
I arranged a small camp
of unpackable artifacts
near the base of the minarets
to keep a death watchorphaned wall-hangings
neon cityscapes
blistering heat
and listen for the rattle
These last days
are close to unrecognizable
immediacy shifts
our shapes so unfamiliar
and regurgitates a tired eulogy
while a common pulse still beats
and a shared tongue continues to record
the little nectarine moments
from the vanishing gradient
between ripe and rotten
In the living room
I composed a feast enough
for a proper Irish wake
and the whiskey is your lake
and the bread is mindless task
and the best moments
are recounted posthumously
in a sotted hymn
to new beginnings
while what's left
washes downstream
consigning itself to oblivion
and rippling a final prayer
to the unnamed saint
of tributary streams
who like myself
are kin to leaving
and would not mourn
a town hollowed
and nearly gone
though surely
not forgotten
Two men in Georgia, who shall remain nameless, claim to be in possession of a dead Bigfoot and, supposedly, they can prove it. They've got the body, photos of the body, and DNA evidence, some of which will be revealed at a press conference in Palo Alto, Calif. this Friday.
This revelation comes only 2.5 months after another man hosted a press conference because he supposedly had definitive evidence of the existence of aliens. The evidence? Some dude in an alien head outside of his daughters' bedroom window. Are you sure that was an alien and not ole' grampy peeps-a-lot??
Director, screenwriter, and playwright John Patrick Shanley's ("Moonstruck", "Doubt") 1990 fairytale classic "Joe Versus the Volcano," starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, returns to the big screen at the Arbor Theater tonight only. 7 p.m. 9828 Great Hills Trail. $5. 231-9742.
Patricia: Nobody knows anything, Joe. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?---
Joe Banks: And why, I ask myself, why have I put up with you? I can't imagine, but now I know. Fear. Yellow freakin' fear. I've been too chicken shit afraid to live my life so I sold it to you for three hundred freakin' dollars a week!
In times of anxiety, stress, and upheaval I find it increasingly difficult to carve creative moments out of my day. When the urge to write strikes, my brain does a mighty good job of distracting with endless chores, lists, and tasks. To dedicate oneself to a discipline can be exhausting, especially in said times of unrest, and the daily committment is often times easier shirked. With no pressing editor or coach in these creative matters, there is only one's self to feed the artistic fire — which, in many cases, poses a worse fate.
This morning, feeling the blade of this potential fate, I sought writing prompts to motivate my stiff gears to motion. A simple Google search yielded a surplus of selections and, within the first page of prompts on WritersDigest.com, I found an entry that picqued my interest, though not in the way I'd expected.
Write an apology letter to yourself for not taking a chance you wish you would have —
whether it be in love, work, your writing career or even something silly.
Doesn't this seem intrinsically negative and counterproductive? I thought, Instead of writing an apology letter for things that I cannot change, why not write a thank you note for things that I can?
If thoughts and feelings shape life, then what logic is there in regret? Why not congratulate accomplishments and assume the role of the active architect? Do I want my life to be a humble farm house or a Miami beach front? A Hooverville shanty or a quaint chateau in Bordeaux? Deliberate living. It always begs to question: What am I grateful for? Who do I dream to be? How do I want my life to be lived?
Think about it and thank about it, then get to writing.
"When was the last time you were at a wedding that had a death defying hike, rogue waves, a luau, ultimate fighting, a presidential candidate and a budding bromance?" asks Papi Chulo. For most of us, the answer is never, but luckily, Papi Chulo and Secret Agent Scotch took the time to Vox all the amazing moments during their unforgettable Hawaiian wedding on 08.08.08 so we could all take part in the festivities.
The story began last February, when Papi Chulo popped the question and Secret Agent Scotch said yes! Since then, they've kept us in the loop about all the details, from the bride's veil to the wedding song to the final To-Do List. And throughout it all, they inspired us with their love for each other. (I'm pretty sure it doesn't get any better than knowing your future husband thinks you are The Perfect Girl.)
It's an amazing love story and we are thrilled they shared it with us. Watch the video of the ceremony and please join us in wishing Papi Chulo and Secret Agent Scotch the fairytale ending they deserve.
And What's a Team Vox Post without New Themes?
Spice up your Vox blog with one of our latest themes (found in the design area under "New") or any of our hundreds of themes. From shopping to sushi, comics to cycling, there's something for everyone.
Can't get enough of the wedding? A few lucky Voxers - Krissy, djchall, and Beau Smith - made the trip to Hawaii to take part in the celebration. Check out their Vox blogs for more pictures and stories.
Congratulations again to Secret Agent Scotch and Papi Chulo! Enjoy the Honeymoon!
I've been listening to the same songs on repeat most of the time I've been here. It's kind of a sad, wistful playlist - my specialty!
However, if you listen to no other song in your life, listen to Lush Life, with Coltrane and Johnny Hartman. Oh, and the R. Kelly/Broken Social Scene mashup that Steve sent. Have a listen.
I love y'all. See you on the flip.
