I'm thankful for Paris Hilton

Thanksgiving is by far one of my least favorite holidays. Not because I have any particular disdain for pilgrims, cornucopias, or muted autumn colors, but because I'm such a goddamned picky eater.

I have the taste buds of an eight year old boy who refuses to try anything new and likes it that way. Over the years I've definitely branched out, and I actually eat the majority of what is typically considered Thanksgiving-food, but that hasn't psychologically redeemed the holiday for me. No, Thanksgiving is and always will be a holiday for old people, and I'll be damned if I succumb to old age before I turn 64 and can buy discounted bargain-price movie tickets at the box office.

Sometimes I wish my Thanksgivings were as entertaining as Harry's. For example, the topics of conversation at my family Thanksgiving ranged from the most exciting man alive, Al Gore, to the discovery that "the crazy contortionist lady who dated Rick Moranis and showed up to the last few family dinners" was not, in fact, a friend of my step-grandmother, but one of MY OWN relatives. I am blood-related to an absolute nutcase. I guess that's not entirely surprising.

Meanwhile, in the midst of Harry's Thanksgiving dinner, his grandmother casually announced that she was going to murder Paris Hilton. Okay, that's an exaggeration. She jokingly mentioned that she wouldn't mind seeing "that Paris" dead (as opposed to the Paris in 'Romeo and Juliet').

But let's be honest: it would have been way better if she decided to get everybody's attention by delicately clinking her wine glass with a knife, clearing her withered throat, and simply declaring: "I am going to kill Paris Hilton." This, of course, would be followed by a brief stunned silence, at which point the family would resume their meal entirely unphased.

Then again, if she did try to kill Paris Hilton, I would be obligated to stop her.

But that's another story entirely.

The Practical Joke Strikes Back

But seriously, whatever happened to the practical joke? I’m pretty sure that if you were to ask any given person this question, they’d end up lovingly reminiscing about “that one time they played a really good practical joke on someone.” Maybe they stuck their sleeping buddy’s hand in warm water and made him pee his pants. That’s pretty funny, right? Or maybe they drew a mustache and swastika on their friend’s face while they were sleeping. Oh, sleeping Hitler! Or maybe, just maybe, they went with a combination of the two, because honestly, there’s nothing quite like the image of Hitler waking up and peeing himself.

These are all good choices. But what makes the practical joke appealing isn’t the specific joke you end up pulling off. No, the rewarding aspect comes from your moment of triumph. It’s the feeling you get when after all the careful plotting and planning, you’re finally able to watch your sister unknowingly shampoo her hair with what she thinks is Herbal Essences, but what really turns out to be liquid Drano. It’s the moment when you push someone to the level of comedic embarrassment and exploit them in a way that may not have been possible otherwise. There’s honestly nothing quite like it. I ask you this: is there anything comparable to the rush you get from watching the little girl in pigtails in front of you sitting on a clandestinely-placed whoopee cushion? What about the elderly man who walks unwittingly into a just-polished steel bear trap neatly tucked in his walk-in closet? Instant hilarity. So what actually happened to the practical joke? Just where the hell did it go and why did we abandon it?

The immediate response might be, “Oh, well we outgrew it.” Something that happens when you become an adult is you tend to leave certain things behind. Teddy Bears. Pacifiers. Sucking-Dairy-Products-That-Come-Out-Of-Your-Mother’s-Nipples. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking gross reflecting on that one, huh? Well deal with it. You’re an adult. But maybe it’s not supposed to be that way: perhaps we were conditioned to leave these things behind.

Practical jokes, by nature, are mean-spirited. Let’s not kid around here: there’s nothing nice about taking pleasure in watching someone else suffer embarrassment. As kids we’re traditionally taught to be nice, act polite, and always treat others with respect. Hence the ‘Do unto others’ mentality. The problem with this little way of living your life is that it’s no fun at all. But what alternative do we have? You can’t just go around nipple-sucking your Mom left and right with a teddy bear dragging in tow . That’s not only morally reprehensible, but also disgusting due to the fact that nobody but women from the 1930’s legitimately enjoy warm milk. Really. I challenge any one person who is both living in the year 2005 and free of mental retardation to enjoy a glass of warm milk. It’s absolutely disgusting. To those non-retarded 2K5-ers who still claim to enjoy it—imagine it coming from your mom’s boobs. Yeah, that did the trick, didn’t it? You’ll never want to drink warm milk again.

You will, however, want to engage in a practical joke in the near future. Why? Because out of the many options you have to reconnect with your inner-child, this is one that doesn’t involve regressing into a creepy Oedipal phase. So if I haven’t made it abundantly clear to you thus far, let me spell it out for you: it’s high time you got out there and resumed playing practical jokes on people. But you’re going to have to up the ante now that you’ve reached adulthood. No more stupid store-bought tricks like bug-in-an-ice-cube or gum-that-looks-real-but-tastes-like-peppery-shit. You’ve grown up. So must your jokes.

What does this mean? Well, possibly a number of things. One thing that all adults love to do is make something topical. Anything’s fair game if it’s got a political or headline-news-oriented spin to it! For instance, are you finding the standard whoopee cushion gag to be a little too juvenile? Why not slyly place a dead bird contaminated with Avian Flu under your boss’ seat at the next board meeting instead? It’s topical as hell, and he’ll be sure to get a kick (as well as Avian Flu) out of it! Or how about the old Vaseline on the doorknob trick? Spruce it up in this manner: instead of a doorknob, try sneaking into a terrorist country and coating as many WMD’s as possible in the old slippery substance. When the UN finally gets their hands on them, it’ll only last for a few seconds before they quite literally slip away for hours on end! Why, these WMD’s will even be slipperier and more elusive than the ones President Bush was after! These are just two excellent examples of how to topically spice up your jokes.

But as most people know, topical is not only intellectually stimulating, but also incredibly boring. The Yang to its Yin, so to speak. So another way to up the ante is to know your target audience. What makes a practical joke so entertaining is the ability to take advantage of someone: and who better to take advantage of than the elderly?

There’s no easier person to trick, fool, prank, or kill than the elderly man or woman. They literally live to have random shit thrown at them. And why not? Do they have anything better to do? Other than watching re-runs of Everybody Loves Raymond and only half-understanding an episode of Dr. Phil on account of their considerably inferior hearing (as opposed to the appropriately-aged human beings), they really have absolutely nothing to do with their lives. Think of playing a practical joke on them as doing them a favor. God knows they need it. Their idea of a good time is having their grandchild visit them and botch Hot Cross Buns on the recorder. No one should ever have to live that way. Which probably explains why they die so soon. So take that into account when you decide to prank them. Also take into account that since they are old, they are technically much more expendable than any normal person, and thus your jokes can be deadlier.

For instance, you could never get away with setting a five-year old girl on fire. That’s not only dangerous, but also a serious criminal offense. But setting a retirement home on fire? Now that’s entertainment! Hell, they’ll be gone soon anyway! If I was an elderly man confined to a wheelchair, I’d gladly prefer the excitement of escaping from a burning building while my friends were on fire playing Bingo over the alternative of never being visited for months on end by my family because they forgot I was alive. But hey, you’re not only helping the elderly by doing this, but also indulging yourself in one of those regressive pleasures that you haven’t been able to indulge in for years.

So what are you waiting for? Get out there and start doing it! At the risk of sounding like a self-help book or Dr. Seuss’ Oh, The Places You’ll Go! I’ll try to refrain from becoming too preachy—but let’s face it: the possibilities are endless. Just remember that while practical jokes may be fun, moderation is the key. So in the meanwhile, go out and live life as the adult you were conditioned to be—but while you’re at it, you may as well throw a few thumbtacks in grandma’s cereal. Tell her they’re marshmallows. Marshmallows that give you tetanus. She’ll thank you later.

Universal Studios Hollywood Responds

Some of you might remember when a couple of days ago, I decided to send out a complaint letter to Universal Studios Hollywood with regard to their demolition of "The E.T. Adventure" and subsequent replacement with "Revenge of the Mummy." Two days later, I received this letter in the mail.

Dear Patron,

Thank you for expressing your concern for Universal Studios Hollywood, the greatest theme park and working movie studio in the entire universe. We are sorry that you feel our new, exciting, thrill-filled, roller-coaster, action-packed, and utterly awesome ride "Revenge of the Mummy" did not meet your expectations. At this point, we could easily say something to the effect of, 'Sucks to be you because you're a lowly customer whereas we're a multi-million dollar movie studio and working theme park, therefore making your opinion worth less than our recent movie bomb, Thunderbirds.' Instead, we're going to indulge your petty complaint because, frankly, we're bored as hell over here, what with our lack of ANY discernible summer blockbuster this year.

To begin to address your insignificant plea, we must begin with why "The E.T. Adventure" was in need of demolition. First, the cost of running E.T. was exorbitant. We needed a cost-friendly ride, and therefore decided that running a miniature roller coaster like ride within the building, adding updated and much more technologically advanced Mummy robots was a better way to save money. We also were able to make more mummy related jokes around the office. Like, when someone called, someone might say, 'Who was that on the phone for you? Your mummy?' And then we would all laugh. Another one of my favorites was, 'Is it just me, or is this job eating away at you guys, too...eating away at me like flesh-eating scarabs!' And my all time favorite was 'Is it hot in here or is it just Stephen Sommers?' God, that man is gorgeous.

Another reason we demolished "The E.T. Adventure" was the fact that E.T. was outdated. Clearly, when we renovated the ride for its 20th Anniversary two years ago, it was meant to be a message to park attendees that this ride was on its way out. Mark my words: the fact that we cleaned and spruced up the robots, added a new introduction from Steven Spielberg that wasn't 10 years old, and a gigantic "Celebrating 20 Years" logo along with E.T. flying over the moon silhouette on the top of the building itself--that was all to let you know that we were going to get rid of the ride.

In fact, it is in our not-so-humble belief that you have not realized the attention to detail we explored when making this ride nearly identical to E.T. For starters, directors of both movies that the rides were based on happened to be named Steven. Coincidence? We think not. On top of that, both directors are incredibly gorgeous. Also a coincidence? Perhaps.

But coincidences like these don't pile up to form a gigantic monster coincidence. Oh, no. They are in reality a planned event. Yes. For instance, think of the pygmy mummies from Universal's smash blockbuster super mega uber hit, 'The Mummy Returns.' They look strangely like E.T. and his homeworld companions, do they not? Think of them as E.T.'s rage-filled undead Egyptian brethren. Also, the title character in 'The Mummy' is named Imhotep. That starts with a vowel. So does E.T. These coincidences just aren't so coincidental now that you think of them under such a broad sweeping scope of view, are they?

And the buck doesn't stop there, oh no. Here at Universal Studios Hollywood, the most magnificent working movie studio while simultaneously being a theme park in the world, we go even farther in creating similarities between the two rides. Why? In order to please the E.T. fans, such as yourself, as well as the Mummy fans. If you take a close look, we have integrated E.T.'s in the treasure room on the ride. Amongst the golden idols, vases, jewels, and coins is a lone E.T. robot. Think of it as a trophy--much like in the 'Predator' movies, said monster keeps the skulls of its victims. Therefore, the Mummy has obviously had some contact with the E.T.'s, and I wouldn't be surprised (I can't say anything yet) if a 'Mummy versus E.T.' film is in the works, much like 'Freddy versus Jason' and 'Alien versus Predator.'

Regardless, there are just too many similarities to point out between these two rides. Mine carts and flying bicycles are pretty much synonymous nowadays. And the Mummy's desert--isn't that just a metaphor for the neverending expanse of space? As you can see, you are not only wrong, but very very wrong. You should be ashamed of yourself.

As for your pathetic and whimpering idea for an amalgamation of rides...Well, honestly, we thought of that. In fact, originally Imhotep was supposed to say goodbye to the passengers on the ride, but in our test run of the ride, his booming and inarticulate Mummy-speak was a bit overbearing and also happened to stop a ride tester's pacemaker. She died, but not to worry--she lives on as a part of the ride itself. Her family generously donated her bones to be added to the treasure room. So now you have two things to look for next time you ride "Revenge of the Mummy!"

We are sad that the smell of E.T.'s forest is no longer present, but being the money-hungry Universal executives that we are, we have decided to sell bottled jars of this smell on e-Bay at ridiculously high prices.

As you can see, you are wrong and we are right. Buy our stock. Watch our movies. Ride our rides. And rent 'The Grinch.' It is a fine film.

Sincerely,

Universal Studios Hollywood Executives

(originally written 11/13/04)

A Complaint Letter to Universal Studios Hollywood

Dear Universal Studios Hollywood,

Today I visited your park for the umpteenth time, and decided to once again ride your "Revenge of the Mummy" attraction. I for one must say that I am sorely disappointed in both the quality as well as quantity of this ride (meaning, ride length). What you have done is worse than anything I could possibly think of. Worse than the Holocaust. Worse than slavery. Worse than cancelling 'Family Guy' again. You replaced "The E.T. Adventure."

I am ashamed to admit that I am/have been a frequent patron of your park, and have owned a season pass almost every single year, despite the fact that you have all of 5 1/2 rides total. I never complained when the 'Wild Wild Wild Wild West Stund Show' felt more like the 'Wild Wild Wild West Stunt Show,' or when you removed the Battlestar Galactica portion of your tram tour. Oh, no. I stuck by my guns.

In fact, I even went as far as to defend your technicians when searing hot oil poured out of the mechanical dinosaurs during a tranquil journey through "Jurassic Park: The Ride" onto tourists, sending seven men, women, and children to the hospital with third degree burns. 'They had it coming for them,' is what I said. 'They clearly deserved it. God was acting through the mechanical monsters.'

But I cannot idly stand by and watch as you destroy a hallmark of our society as we know it. "The E.T. Adventure" is, and will always be, one of the most important rides in all of existence, and rumor has it that its awe-inspiring powers had a hand in creating the Earth. But with a swoop of your God-like hands, you take away what you so generously gaveth longeth ago-eth. That, sirs and madames, is heinous.

What reasons could possibly motivate such an action? A more recognizable movie, you say? Something more recent? For chrissakes, who DOESN'T recognize E.T. with his cute glowy fingers, huh? And if you wanted new, why not just spruce it up. Add some mecha T-1000 E.T. Bots to fight the friendly ones, and you've got an exciting temporal intergalactic flying bike war in the midst of your ride. How's THAT, huh?

Another 'valid reason' was that "E.T." just wasn't exciting enough as a ride. It doesn't provide the thrills of "The Revenge of the Mummy." Bah! When I was younger (and even to this day) I was UTTERLY TERRIFIED of the cars zooming out of the bushes at our flying bicycles, E.T.'s orgasmic wail like grating plastic coming from the basket in front of me as automoton cops shot at us--and who could forget those terrifying flower creatures reaching out for you, or the shiny green smoky light you blasted towards near the end? Now THOSE are quality thrills.

But no. You decided that the Mummy was scarier than E.T. Hmmph. The only thing scary about the Mummy is that director Stephen Sommers was allowed to direct and pump out the piece of shit film, 'Van Helsing,' without being shot directly afterwards for doing so. Now, I know you've made some horribly irrevocable and egregious mistakes, but you can earn some of your valuable trust and quality back by doing the following things.

First off, I know you can't possibly reinstate "The E.T. Adventure"--so why not use what you've got? Take the best of both worlds! I call it, "The Revenge of E.T. & The Mummy." Instead of mine carts, one can ride on regular bicycles with E.T. popping out every now and then to exclaim something in his own electronic rasp of a voicebox. Also, try to integrate that foresty smell of the E.T. queue into the ride. Perhaps add some pine trees inside of the pyramid interiors scenes. Also, you should plan on replacing Imhotep, the evil Mummy, with Deku, E.T.'s old mentor who appeared in a puff of smoke in the E.T. line to warn us of the impending danger. Don't worry--Deku can still ravage the flesh of intruders via scarab beetles--just as long as he's there.

Also, the 'roller coaster' portion needs to be changed. True, one can hardly call this a 'roller coaster' as it is, but it needs changing. Maybe just replace it with a slow circle over what looks like a miniature Los Angeles. But instead of Los Angeles, just show the various friends of E.T. being torn apart piece by piece by flesh-eating scarabs in a torture pit. That would work nicely.

Finally, at the end, instead of spinning the car around slowly making it look like it's on fire, have a friendly water fight between E.T.'s and Mummies, as Imhotep says goodbyes to everyone on your mine cart bicycle thingy.

With these seemingly insignificant and clearly easy-to-handle changes (but they make all the difference, trust me), I'm sure you'll be able to make "The Revenge of E.T. & The Mummy" one of the most successful rides in history. Oh yeah, you also need to have "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow constantly blasting through speakers behind the riders' ears the entire time. It adds to the eeriness.

Thank you for your time, patience, and otherwise. I am sure you will do the right thing. Or I will hunt you all down and periodically remove your bowels in an unpleasant fashion and dephile them in various, equally-horrible fashions. Better act quickly.

-Justin

(originally written 11/10/04)

The Danger of Holiday Cheer

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and as I walked down a windy and abnormally cold San Fernando Valley street, I looked around and felt a strange sort of happiness. Yes, happiness. “Okay,” I thought, “why am I suddenly and inexplicably happy?” Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a glittery wreath hanging from a lamppost. A forest green mass sporting red ribbons and silver ornaments sat in plain view, as if saying to me, “Merry Christmas, Justin!” And I smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Mr. Wreath!”

Wait. There are two fundamental problems here. One: I’m bestowing upon an object holiday cheer, not to mention talking to a wreath. Two: I was spoon-fed on the idea that Santa systematically killed off my ancestors by carting them off to death camps across Europe. I don’t even celebrate Christmas. Something was terribly wrong here…and yet…the wreath seemed so friendly. I whirled around, only to face the horrific reality that I was surrounded. Dangling lights outside of every storefront, red and green signs flashing holiday sales events, robotic Santas, and plastic snowmen line Ventura Blvd. like an army of Holiday Cheer ready to trample both logic and any misgivings and inhibitions I might have about The Holiday Season. And this army was coming for me.

Terrified, I broke out into a run. Okay, a jog. Running is a little much for my out-of-shape body. I also peed my pants. I make it a good two hundred yards, when I am stopped dead in my tracks by the dazzling store display window of Aahs! My torso turns a good one hundred and eighty degrees to face the window. My jaw drops, and I am instantly mesmerized. Jingle Bell pasta! Motion-Activated talking Rudolph with light-up nose! Batman Christmas ornaments! “Well,” I mused to myself, “it can’t be so bad if even someone as brooding as Batman is involved. I mean, he’s the antithesis of Holiday Cheer, right?” Right.

Common sense and the waft of my urine-soaked jeans slap me in the face with a good dose of reality—Batman would never partake in something as gaudy and materialistic as this—I look closely at the smiling image of Batman in a Santa cap riding a fuzzy red-and-green striped sleigh—and smiling, no less? No, this was wrong, all wrong! All the same, I needed a new pair of pants. And quick, too; the smell of urine was starting to garner unwanted attention from passerby.

I ran into Aahs!, shielding my eyes from the hypnotic effects of Holiday-themed products, hoping to quickly find replacement pants. Covering my eyes with my hands, I failed to realize until the last minute that I wasn’t able to see, and stumbled into an employee. Brushing myself off and mumbling, “I’m sorry,” I gazed upon her nametag: Jingle Ruth. The poor woman was forced to take a Holiday prefix to her name. “Can I help you?” Jingle Ruth uttered in a raspy and guttural voice. “I need pants, Jingle Ruth, and I need them now!” I declared a little too forcefully. “Look, kid, if you’re gonna get all pissy about it, I’m gonna have to call the mana—the Jingle manager about this.” Good lord, she was willing to sic upon me the vengeful rage of her unholy Holiday management! I declined the opportunity to ‘get pissy,’ and grabbed the nearest pair of pants I could find. They were red with faux white fur lining the edges—no green, which seemed harmless enough to me! I purchased the pants, and dashed out of the store.

After a quick change in a nearby Bookstar (I used the less-than-popular men’s self-help section of the store as a changing room to the chagrin of two lost children and one drooling bearded man), I was ready to go. Where, I had no idea. I was confused, overwhelmed, and betrayed by my favorite superhero in the spirit of Christmas. I started to hallucinate. Glistening white flakes of snow fall around me as the wholesome cheer of carolers fill the air. A reindeer trots up next to me and nuzzles the side of my leg. I look down and gaze into the warmth of his glowing nose. He nuzzles again, this time a little deeper in my leg. “What a cute little reindeer, you are!” I exclaim. The reindeer nuzzles again, this time in my crotch. I stare down in horror—the reindeer is licking my crotch! I start to kick the reindeer, attempting to get the crotch-licking beast away from my most prized possessions. The Holiday Dreamworld washes away with a quick slap to my face by the dog walker currently watching me beat her dog senseless with my steel-tipped boot.

“You don’t even deserve to be Santa!” she screams in a rage as she no doubt dials the police on her cell phone. Huh? What the hell is she talking about? Then it hits me harder than any abusive uncle ever could: I’m wearing large black boots, and a newly-bought pair of Santa pants. Not to mention a red shirt. Unconsciously, I have become The Clause himself. What does this mean? Has the Holiday mentality finally affected my mind, entering the very brain cells of my body, traveling through my immune system like AIDS in a rocket-powered sleigh? Or is it quite the opposite…am I inextricably destined to become Santa Clause?

I mulled over this for a good five minutes, until the sound of approaching police sirens and the fact that I’d be in the same boat as Tim Allen drove me from this idea as well as my current position. At this point I dejectedly walked home, passing by the various Holiday-decorated and themed houses, banks, stores, and otherwise. And I realized something: maybe it wasn’t wrong to take pleasure in Christmas. I mean, the best part of any given TV show is clearly the Christmas special. And why else would I pop in Muppet Family Christmas every year? If the Muppets meet the Sesame Street Muppets and the Fraggles all in one mega Jim Henson crossover because of Christmas, there must be something good about The Holiday Season. Yeah! So screw those crazy ideas I had about mass retailers trying to screw millions of people out of their hard-earned money for pointless and inconsequential purchases! What I really need to remember is that Christmas is about the experience, and how fun it actually is to go out and celebrate with your friends and family, giving and getting gifts, and at the end of the day popping in my Muppet Family Christmas DVD!

Finally, I was satisfied. Nothing could bring down my spirits. I walked up the pathway to my house, stepping on the crunchy dead leaves and smiled—I love the feeling of stepping on fallen leaves. I peered in the front window. The menorah stared back coldly and menacingly, as if to say, “Joke’s on you, JewFace!” I sighed, realizing once again that I had personified an inanimate object, making it twice in one day. I also had the distinct and unpleasant feeling of dried urine sticking to my inner thighs. Once inside, I settled on taking a shower and maybe eating a bowl of cereal.

(originally written 11/29/04)

Another First Entry

...and so I find yet another way to procrastinate from doing things that, well, should be done. Having exhausted funny websites, livejournal (shudder), and god knows what else, it's come to creating a blog. Specifically, this blog is meant to be an archive of both old and new material. Most of it'll probably be comedic, but hey, who knows what else might pop up. If you like it, let me know. If you don't, please start a counterblog. I'm serious.