Congressional leaders have placed a rather peculiar piece of law in the health care legislation. If passed, there will be a new agency called the Agency for Birth Oversight Reform and Transition (ABORT).
ABORT is charged with controlling the births of children to parents who do not satisfy a stringent criteria. Hopeful parents would be required to fill out an application, submitting themselves to ABORT review. The agency would use a formula to determine if the parents should be allowed to have a child.
The equation takes into account, among other variables, education level, socioeconomic status, and race. ABORT will also be responsible for maintaining records on all the approved and denied applicants histories. If a couple already has two or more children, they will be less likely to be allowed another.
Enforcing the new policy may raise some unique challenges in modern America. ABORT will be given authority to “terminate pregnancies in applicants who have been denied the right to give birth in any manner the agency sees fit.” This will no doubt spark a debate amongst those who actually care about what others do with their own children.
Finally, there will be a physical examination which will take into account the chances of birth defects, long term health, and even the prospects of how good-looking the child will be. One anonymous official stated that the government “obviously wants to encourage the Brads and Angelinas of the world to vigorously procreate.”
The reported savings on Welfare and Unemployment Insurance are expected to balance the Federal Budget and wipe out the National Deficit within 20 years. This is of course, when the first wave of ABORT approved babies will become adults.
A recent email I sent to my Friend, verbatim. Tried to mold it into a short story; it wasn’t worth the effort. Enjoy.
So, shit, went 0 for 2 on the day. Took the job hit. Then Erica got on my nerves so fucking bad that I’m staying the night at Bert’s, even though she wanted me to stay. Here are some examples:
- We decided to go see Brothers. I was at her place 2 hours before going. For about 1.5 hours of that, she was sending texts, and various other messages. Then she did that shit where she would tell me everybody else’s comments on something she said on facebook. “I was like, ‘you were wearing a helmet because you ride the short bus,’ then jason was like, ‘what the hell man?’ and then bruce was like, ‘yeah, short bus, lmao……” I didn’t find any of it funny. She laughed her ass off.
- I turned the tv to Jeopardy. She repeatedly told me how the show was stupid. Before the final question, she asked if I would mind if she changed it. I say be my guest. She changes it to MTV, and fuckin Jersey shores. The worst part is, she wasn’t even watching it, she was texting her balls off. She asks me if I’ve ever watched the show. I say, “I haven’t watched MTV since I was in elementary school.” Afterwards, we watched some goddamn dance show Fox. I watched that is. She texted.
- She only wanted to go if I warmed up my truck and pulled it up to the door, stating, “that’s the gentleman thing to do.”
- We went to Walmart. She had to piss because she was slamming cocktails before we left. She was doing the “pee-pee dance” as she called it. Same shit as a fucking child would do, dancing and squirming around because she had to piss. She needed to pick up TWO things REAL QUICK. Mind you when we pulled into walmart, there was 12 minutes before the movie started. She ended up getting about 17 things. And we were late to the goddamn movie.
- When we get there, she was being really fucking rude, and a total fucking bitch, because some guy was trying to buy a couple of gift cards. Embaressed the shit out of me. The employee pointed to the machine where you can swipe and buy your ticket. She’s too dumb to work the thing. She talks shit to it. Further embaressment. The guy leaves the line, I go there to buy my ticket. I apologize profusely under my breath. The employee says he’s sorry. I say, no man, you don’t have to apologize for anything. Jesus christ.
- She decides after 15 minutes that the movie sucks. Commence texting. She says out loud, and to the “people” next to us, “this movie is sooooo slow. this movie sucks.” Once again, I’m embaressed.
- I can hardly enjoy movie, due to her and the “people”. The best part was when she didn’t say or do a fucking thing and curled up and snuggled up to my arm. I thought, this shit could work out after all. It didn’t. With about 20 minutes left in the film, she said loud enough so the entire goddamn theater could hear, “I can’t believe how much this movie sucks.”
- I’m going 35 mph in a 30 on the way back in St Joe. She says fairly snide- I’d slow down, the St Joe cops are assholes. I say back (she has 2 dui’s in st joe) “I’ll be fine. I’m not drunk.” I didn’t get pulled over.
- She tells me that prostate and colon cancer are the same thing. I disagree. (my grandfather has a slew of cancer) She says that she’s going into nursing, she knows. I say – that’s not what the doctors at the hospital told me. She says that, no, your grandfather only has one type of cancer. She tried convincing me that he has melanoma. He doesn’t.
- By the time of arrival at her place, I’d had enough. I helped carry groceries in. Told her that I had to go, have a lot on my mind with the job thing and all. Needed a long, country drive home to clear my mind. She looked disappointed that I wasn’t staying. She starts with some religious bullshit. Tells me that god is just trying to help me learn. That I should embrace my situation and learn from it. I tell her that I’m tired of learning, I’ve had bad luck for the majority of the past ten years. She says again that I need to embrace it, and she keeps pushing god on me. I almost throw up on her cats. She pushed that far. I hugged her. Then I left.
It was a rotten fucking experience. But maybe god put me through it so I would learn not to hang out with stupid bitches.
On the top right corner of this very website there is a banner ad for One.org, my favorite charitable website that has a campaign to end poverty. Our administrator feels that we can make a difference by placing this banner ad on our site.
But why does he really want that banner ad placed in the top right corner of this blog? What benefits does it reap for our humble, libertarian counterpart? I have decided to theorize the answer to these pressing questions.
First, he obviously gets paid by One.org to post this ad on our site. I looked it up, and the average payout is something like 38 cents per month. Has he shared any of these profits with any of the dedicated contributors? I think not.
By pocketing this 38 cents every month, he has joined the ranks of many individuals who have used the Internet to sell out their beliefs. The guys from Napster, Facebook, and Google come to mind. With that kind of income, he alone will be able to end poverty by the year 12,316 AD.
Next, is the ego boost reaped by posting something inherently good on a public domain. Think of it as an intrinsically valuable reward for him. He gets to go to his fancy cocktail parties (hosted by the revenue that should be going to end poverty) and boast to his chums about the good he is doing in this disparate world. He uses the blog as his platform for tooting his own horn.
Finally, and perhaps the most compelling benefit of all, he gets to actually work against poverty. Being the selfish, libertarian that he is, he does not want to actually help others; he only wishes to keep all the money he earns for himself. His real goal is to keep world poverty where it is, or even make it worse. Taking money from One.org means he is controlling the pool of funds meant to fight world poverty. By siphoning money away from the organization, his evil is unparalleled and his reward unmatched. While he encourages the visitors of this fine, well intentioned blog to donate to One.org, he sits back and collects a check with his true purpose hidden by the very engine that drives social change.
For these reasons that I will no longer donate to One.org or click on the banner ad on this website. It will only drive his profits up and make poverty more prominent and prevalent. I would encourage you all to look inside yourselves this Holiday Season and do the right thing. Then take a good hard look at the man behind this page and ask yourselves if you want to be associated with such a character.
Hick-hop is not dead. After a near-death experience, this wunderkind (she’s 13) produced one of the most provocative rap albums of the year.
Agnes Reeves – Pillowtalk
This debut solo LP comes from the love child of former Superman Star Christopher Reeves. The deeply personal lyrics reflect torment that Miss Reeves has been feeling since the death of her father.
The Young Masters – Brandy
The Young Masters previous efforts were sketchy and after a few line-up changes and quite a bit of a specific alcohol (see the title) the band nixed their electro roots to craft the finest pop album of the decade.
The Night Foxes – Knives of Sunshine
Recorded only at night in a chicken coop on guitarist Wil O’Hara’s farm, The Night Foxes mix delirium, synths and guitars into what some might call the future of music.
Bare Chested Hugs – Bare Chested Hugs
The Hugs sophomore album finds them ass (or rather, bare chest) deep in noisy, psychedelic, shoegaze-y territory, where only other Animal Collectives fear to tread.
Giggle/snort – You’ll Catch Hell For This!
This “dragon rock” duo put out one of the years catchiest singles: “Just Another Hawcrux”.
Tobin Mielke – Folked Up (Again)
This just in: Freak-folker Tobin Mielke records a back-to-his-roots album and blows minds. Devendra, wherever you are, you better watch your back.
Prismatic Beaus – Cloud 9 City
Don’t let the media hype surrounding this band deter you from listening to it. These guys are geniuses, plain and simple.
Ribbon – Coins Don’t Bounce
After getting fired from his job at a (formerly) successful financial institution, Ribbon cashed in his stock, moved back in with him mom, spent his last dime on recording equipment and produced (arguably) this year’s finest rap debut. Best Track – Coins Don’t Bounce (They Roll)
333 – endless e.p.
This noise-rock outfit from Japan is almost unlistenable… in a good way.
Copied and posted completely, this is an interesting concept. Politics have become quite vitriolic of late, and we are need of a way to broaden the conversation so to speak, to return to our American political roots. (Source)
Watching the House of Representatives on late-night C-SPAN, you might have any number of reactions, including seppuku-inducing boredom. Depending on who’s talking, you might also feel disgust, rage, contempt, or, in rare cases, inspiration. But one reaction you probably won’t have is: “Gosh, if only there were more of these jokers.”
That’s too bad. Because what our political system may be lacking more than anything else is enough members of Congress. No, really. Seriously, stop laughing.
Except for a brief effort to accommodate Alaska and Hawaii, the size of the House has been frozen at 435 members since 1911. A 1929 law, driven in part by a desire to keep immigrants underrepresented, has kept it that way.
But there’s nothing sacred about the 435 number. In fact, the Founders would be aghast at the idea that the “peoples’ house” is filled with pols speaking for hundreds of thousands of citizens.
In Federalist No. 55, James Madison defended the proposed Constitution’s apportionment clause despite its widespread unpopularity. The chief complaints, according to Madison, were that such a small Congress would become an “unsafe depository of the public interests”; that the districts would be too large and diverse for any politician to “possess a proper knowledge of the local circumstances of their numerous constituents”; and that such a tiny House would have the net result of attracting elitist types whose aim would be the “permanent elevation of the few on the depression of the many.”
So how big were these liberty-threatening districts? How tiny was the potentially oligarchic House? The districts had no more than 30,000 people, yielding 65 representatives. Under today’s apportionment system, the “ideal” congressional district is 700,000 people, with some districts reaching nearly 1 million. Montana, with a population of 958,000, has just one representative, but each of Rhode Island’s two districts has about 530,000 people.
There is, of course, an important principle here, and if all of Montana’s residents were black, it would be easier for everyone to see it. Montanans’ votes don’t count as much as Rhode Islanders’ — in fact, a Montanan’s vote only counts for about three-fifths of a Rhode Islander’s. That America’s slave population was counted by the same ratio under the original Constitution is usually cited, rightly, as one of the document’s greatest sins. A lawsuit filed in federal court in Mississippi last month hopes to force Congress to remedy the status quo’s assault on the one-person, one-vote principle by increasing Congress to as many as a paltry 1,761 members.
Beyond principle, there are practical reasons to expand Congress. For decades, presidential candidates have promised to change the “way Washington works.” But once elected, they’re soon captured by their own congressional parties, which are in turn beholden to the “old bulls” and constituencies rooted in interests outside their districts.
A Congress of, say, 5,000 citizen-legislators would change that overnight. Would it cost more money? Yes. But today’s huge staffs could be cut, and perks and pork might even be curtailed by using the old chewing gum rule: If there’s not enough for everyone, nobody can have any.
Term-limit activists have the right idea — getting new blood in Washington — but their remedy is anti-democratic. The trick is to swamp Congress with new blood and new ideas. Want more minorities in Congress? Done. Want more libertarians? More socialists? More blue-collar workers? Done, done, done.
In free-speech debates, it’s often said that the cure for bad speech is more speech. Well, the cure for a calcified Congress just might be more members; the remedy for an undemocratic system, more democracy.
When you look at the congressional corruption scandals of the last 20 years, it’s hard not to see them as stemming from a system that has, in fact, led to the “permanent elevation of the few on the depression of the many.”
Critics of the status quo from the left and right yearn to shatter the two-party system’s lock on politics. I’m not convinced that would be a good thing, but wouldn’t the best way to do that be for smaller parties in Congress to champion fresh new ideas? Rather than have some billionaire egomaniac who, in effect, creates or co-opts a ridiculous third party just so he can indulge his presidential ambitions, why not have third, fourth, or 15th parties test their wares in a smaller political market and build themselves up to where they could field a president?
Obviously, the rajahs of incumbentstan don’t like the prospect of diluting their own power. But expanding Congress would, among other things, make late-night C-SPAN so much more entertaining. – We Need a Bigger House by Jonah Goldberg
There was a time when the Heisman Trophy went to the most outstanding college football player in the nation. Players from such schools as BYU, Houston, Army, SMU (Doak Walker, anyone?), and Yale have claimed the trophy during its history. Too bad those schools won’t ever even have a player nominated again.
This past Monday evening, the Heisman Trophy Trust of New York City announced the five Heisman finalists: Colt McCoy of Texas, Tim Tebow of Florida, Mark Ingram of Alabama, and two other guys that won’t win the award, but the Trust made finalists in order to save face. You tell me, what are their names?
You see, we live in a sad, sad time when the Heisman winner, more often than not, is little more than Prom King. Seven of the last ten Heisman winners played in the National Championship game. Pure coincidence? What are the odds that seven of the Best players of the past ten years played for the National Championship? I understand the logic; the Best player dramatically leads his team to an undefeated season, and then vies for the championship. Ahh yes, pure poetry.
Well, there’s a problem. A quarterback, running back, or player of any other position that leads his team to the Championship isn’t necessarily great. I know, I know… Blasphemy. There are so many other contributing factors to be considered when speaking of a Championship caliber team. These aren’t considered, however, when the ballots are cast. Instead, votes are based more on sentiment, and the voters are narrow minded. For instance, Pap Sheffield, who votes in the southeast region: “Hellfire! Jimmy McLatterhorn led his team to the national championship game. He completed 58% of his passes, threw for 23 touchdowns and 10 interceptions, and had three fourth-quarter comebacks!!” Aww Snap. What Pap didn’t take into account is the fact that Jimmy has a great supporting cast of senior receivers and running backs. Jimmy’s defense was absolutely devastating; the best and meanest in the country. And, by the way, half of Jimmy’s touchdown passes came in his four non-conference games, at home, against the likes of Akron, Tulane, New Mexico, and Florida Atlantic. Their combined record is 11-37 (thanks to Akron’s impressive 5-7 campaign).
I mention this because of McCoy and Tebow. Both played for teams with ridiculous non-conference schedules. Florida played two ranked teams the whole season, Texas three. While these two senior quarterbacks had pretty good seasons overall, they faltered against good competition. Just look at this past weekend if examples are needed. It seems to me that an Outstanding player would rise to the occasion when playing a good team.
Meanwhile, we have Mark Ingram of Alabama. A sophomore running back on what, in all likelihood, is the best team in the nation. It’s not that he isn’t deserving of the award. He had respectable numbers against some pretty good teams. Overall, he’s one of the best running backs in the nation. But not THE best.
That distinction goes to Toby Gerhart. The bruising, punishing running back for Stanford who probably has the most impressive numbers overall of any position player. His key stats are his 1,736 rushing yards and 26 rushing touchdowns. However, he has also has caught and thrown touchdown passes. Stanford finished 8-4 during an up year in Pac 10. Gerhart was the team. If it weren’t for three close road losses and a home loss to a rival, he’d be the favorite to win the award. However, since his defense couldn’t rise to the occasion at times, and his supporting cast on offense was average at best, he isn’t the most outstanding player in college football.
I guess while we’re here I’ll throw out the last name, eh? Ndamukong Sue is the fifth finalist. Like Toby Gerhart, his dominance alone took Nebraska to the Big 12 championship game, a game he almost single handedly won. He was the motor than ran a machine of destruction, the Blackshirt defense. Although his numbers are superb and he is the best interior lineman in all the land, he can’t win the award. He’s just not… sexy enough. Although Charles Woodson won the award as a defensive player, he also returned punts and occasionally played offense. When Heisman voters compare 82 tackles and 12 sacks to, say, Mark Ingram being the 5th best running back in the country for the number one team, which sounds more appealing?
So here we sit, a day before the most illustrious award in college sports is given. Mark Ingram is lounging in his hotel room in New York City right now in a silk robe drinking a mimosa, while his acceptance speech roles through his head. “I just want to thank God, my mom, and my teammates. Without all of them, this wouldn’t have been possible.” Meanwhile, Toby Gerhart is down the hall, using some of that Stanford knowledge to put together a one-of-a-kind speech that won’t be read. Ndamukong Sue is eating 56 ounces of prime rib. Tebow is leading prayer, and McCoy is giving an aww-shucks interview to an NBC affiliate out of Santa Fe. All the while, the Heisman voters are hunkering down for a long winters nap, while visions of mediocre tailbacks and quarterbacks on top ranked teams dance through their heads.
That damn Levi’s commercial really got this stuck in my head, with that rapid snare, and the 1930′s sounding actor. Kind of funny how I really want to go buy a pair of Levi’s now.
Pioneers! O Pioneers! Walt Whitman
COME my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready,
Have you your pistols? have you your sharp-edged axes?
Pioneers! O pioneers!
For we cannot tarry here,
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O you youths, Western youths,
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship,
Plain I see you Western youths, see you tramping with the foremost,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Have the elder races halted?
Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied over there beyond the
seas?
We take up the task eternal, and the burden and the lesson,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the past we leave behind,
We debouch upon a newer mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
We detachments steady throwing,
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,
Conquering, holding, daring, venturing as we go the unknown ways,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
We primeval forests felling,
We the rivers stemming, vexing we and piercing deep the mines
within,
We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil upheaving,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Colorado men are we,
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high
plateaus,
From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
From Nebraska, from Arkansas,
Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the continental
blood intervein’d,
All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern, all the
Northern,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O resistless restless race!
O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender love for all!
O I mourn and yet exult, I am rapt with love for all,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Raise the mighty mother mistress,
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry mistress,
(bend your heads all,)
Raise the fang’d and warlike mistress, stern, impassive, weapon’d
mistress,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
See my children, resolute children,
By those swarms upon our rear we must never yield or falter,
Ages back in ghostly millions frowning there behind us urging,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
On and on the compact ranks,
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the dead quickly
fill’d,
Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and never stopping,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O to die advancing on!
Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour come?
Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the gap is fill’d.
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the pulses of the world,
Falling in they beat for us, with the Western movement beat,
Holding single or together, steady moving to the front, all for us,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Life’s involv’d and varied pageants,
All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their work,
All the seamen and the landsmen, all the masters with their slaves,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
All the hapless silent lovers,
All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked,
All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
I too with my soul and body,
We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way,
Through these shores amid the shadows, with the apparitions
pressing,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Lo, the darting bowling orb!
Lo, the brother orbs around, all the clustering suns and planets,
All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
These are of us, they are with us,
All for primal needed work, while the followers there in embryo wait
behind,
We to-day’s procession heading, we the route for travel clearing,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
O you daughters of the West!
O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and you wives!
Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Minstrels latent on the prairies!
(Shrouded bards of other lands, you may rest, you have done your
work,)
Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and tramp amid us,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Not for delectations sweet,
Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and the studious,
Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame enjoyment,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Do the feasters gluttonous feast?
Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock’d and bolted doors?
Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the ground,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discouraged nodding
on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you in your tracks to pause oblivious,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the daybreak call-hark! how loud and clear I hear it
wind,
Swift! to the head of the army!-swift! spring to your places,
Pioneers! O pioneers!
Tis the season for Bowl U Pick ‘em. Below is the list of this season’s bowl games. A few great games to be anticipated and about 30 that nobody cares about. List your winning team and point total for the BCS Championship. An overall bet or side bets are up for discussion. Good luck folks.
NEW MEXICO BOWL- Fresno State vs. Wyoming
ST. PETERSBURG BOWL- Rutgers vs. UCF
NEW ORLEANS BOWL- Southern Miss vs. Middle Tennessee
LAS VEGAS BOWL- BYU vs. Oregon State
POINSETTIA BOWL- Utah vs. California
HAWAII BOWL- SMU vs. Nevada
LITTLE CESARS PIZZA BOWL- Marshall vs. Ohio
MEINEKE CAR CARE BOWL- North Carolina vs. Pittsburgh
EMERALD BOWL- Boston College vs. USC
MUSIC CITY BOWL- Clemson vs. Kentucky
INDEPENDENCE BOWL- Texas A&M vs. Georgia
EAGLEBANK BOWL- Temple vs. UCLA or Army
CHAMPS SPORTS BOWL- Miami vs. Wisconsin
HUMANITARIAN BOWL- Idaho vs. Bowling Green
HOLIDAY BOWL- Nebraska vs. Arizona
ARMED FORCES BOWL- Houston vs. Air Force
SUN BOWL – Oklahoma vs. Stanford
TEXAS BOWL- Navy vs. Missouri
INSIGHT BOWL- Minnesota vs. Iowa State
CHICK-FIL-A BOWL- Virginia Tech vs. Tennessee
OUTBACK BOWL- Northwestern vs. Auburn
CAPITAL ONE BOWL – Penn State vs. LSU
GATOR BOWL – Florida State vs. West Virginia
INTERNATIONAL BOWL- South Florida vs. Northern Illinois
PAPAJOHNS.COM BOWL- Connecticut vs. South Carolina
Mo’Nique: You ain’t skinny, girl, but I don’t trust you anyway.
Tess: Why?
Mo’Nique: You talk a lot of game, bitch, but I know for a fact you didn’t get yourself out to see Precious.
Tess: Why does this keep coming up? I only saw one movie in the theaters in 2009. I don’t feel particularly good about that, especially when I keep having performers over for dinner, but what can I do? My income was like zero until a few months ago and —
Bill Murray: So nobody wants to hear my thoughts. Somehow this is unsurprising.
Mo’Nique: Honey, you seem so depressed. It’s that monotone. And the eyelids. [to Tess] And isn’t he boney? [to Bill Murray] Sugar, you boney. Eat something.
Bill Murray: I’m not boney and I’m not depressed. I keep my enthusiasm on a tight leash so that one day I can surprise the world with its sheer force.
Tess: Oh.
Mo’Nique: Mmm.
Bill Murray: Anyway, now that I have your attention: I was staring into the fireplace against that wall and I realized something. Where do you put the fire? You put it in the firePLACE. Fire. Place. Fireplace.
Tess: More Suntory?
Bill Murray & Mo’Nique: Yes please!
[doorbell rings. Tess opens it to reveal Lindsay Lohan]
Tess: Ooh, Lindsay. Not a good time. Mo’Nique is here.
Lindsay Lohan: Please, please, let me in! I just had the worst fight with Samantha and my house is filled with needles and garbage and it smells like fake tanner and I just drank three Monster energy drinks and chased them with Lithium! [beat] PLEASE!
Mo’Nique: I smell a skinny bitch! Tess, you said no skinny bitches!
Tess: Oh jeez, Lindsay, like I said…she really has this thing about skinny bitches — skinny people — look, can’t you just call Jared Leto or something?
Lindsay Lohan: He screens me!
Bill Murray: [creeps in from the dining room] Who have we here.
Lindsay Lohan: Oh my God, it’s James Belushi!
Bill Murray: That’s right.
Mo’Nique: [to Tess] That girl looks bad. What’s she on, Monsters and Lithium?
Tess: Something like that.
Lindsay Lohan: My agent has been calling you! I’m dying to get on “According to Jim!”
Bill Murray: Yes, I think I can work something out.
Mo’Nique: Sugarpie, “According to Jim” is off the —
Bill Murray: SHHHH! You go back to the table. Go back. Go back.
[Mo’Nique harrumphs away]
Lindsay Lohan: Hey, James, do you mind driving me home?
Bill Murray: Not a problem. You live —?
Lindsay Lohan: Oh, just here or there!
Tess: You live “here or there”?
Lindsay Lohan: Just, you know, wherever I can hide out and drink gin out of a Fresca bottle!
Tess: Oh.
Bill Murray: How about I spring for one of those guest houses at the Chateau Marmont. I won’t stay there, I’ll just take you out for karaoke and a bittersweet time and then drop you off with an ambiguously platonic kiss on the top of your head.
Lindsay Lohan: That reminds me of a scene from —
Bill Murray: No. No it doesn’t. Because I just made that up, so whatever you were going to say, that’s impossible. Better hit the road. [to Tess] Sayonara.
Tess: Sayonara. [heads back to table, where Mo’Nique is picking at her pie] I guess it’s just you and me, Mo’Nique.
Mo’Nique: Tess, God damn it, he can handle his shit, can’t he?
Tess: Pretty much.
Mo’Nique: And that shit about the fireplace? That’s some smart shit.
Tess: I both agree and disagree with that. More Suntory?
Mo’Nique: You ain’t skinny, girl, but I don’t trust you anyway.
Tess: Why?
Mo’Nique: You talk a lot of game, bitch, but I know for a fact you didn’t get yourself out to see Precious.
Tess: Why does this keep coming up? I only saw one movie in the theaters in 2009. I don’t feel particularly good about that, especially when I keep having performers over for dinner, but what can I do? My income was like zero until a few months ago and —
Bill Murray: So nobody wants to hear my thoughts. Somehow this is unsurprising.
Mo’Nique: Honey, you seem so depressed. It’s that monotone. And the eyelids. [to Tess] And isn’t he boney? [to Bill Murray] Sugar, you boney. Eat something.
Bill Murray: I’m not boney and I’m not depressed. I keep my enthusiasm on a tight leash so that one day I can surprise the world with its sheer force.
Tess: Oh.
Mo’Nique: Mmm.
Bill Murray: Anyway, now that I have your attention: I was staring into the fireplace against that wall and I realized something. Where do you put the fire? You put it in the firePLACE. Fire. Place. Fireplace.
Tess: More Suntory?
Bill Murray & Mo’Nique: Yes please!
[doorbell rings. Tess opens it to reveal Lindsay Lohan]
Tess: Ooh, Lindsay. Not a good time. Mo’Nique is here.
Lindsay Lohan: Please, please, let me in! I just had the worst fight with Samantha and my house is filled with needles and garbage and it smells like fake tanner and I just drank three Monster energy drinks and chased them with Lithium! [beat] PLEASE!
Mo’Nique: I smell a skinny bitch! Tess, you said no skinny bitches!
Tess: Oh jeez, Lindsay, like I said…she really has this thing about skinny bitches — skinny people — look, can’t you just call Jared Leto or something?
Lindsay Lohan: He screens me!
Bill Murray: [creeps in from the dining room] Who have we here.
Lindsay Lohan: Oh my God, it’s James Belushi!
Bill Murray: That’s right.
Mo’Nique: [to Tess] That girl looks bad. What’s she on, Monsters and Lithium?
Tess: Something like that.
Lindsay Lohan: My agent has been calling you! I’m dying to get on “According to Jim!”
Bill Murray: Yes, I think I can work something out.
Mo’Nique: Sugarpie, “According to Jim” is off the —
Bill Murray: SHHHH! You go back to the table. Go back. Go back.
[Mo’Nique harrumphs away]
Lindsay Lohan: Hey, James, do you mind driving me home?
Bill Murray: Not a problem. You live —?
Lindsay Lohan: Oh, just here or there!
Tess: You live “here or there”?
Lindsay Lohan: Just, you know, wherever I can hide out and drink gin out of a Fresca bottle!
Tess: Oh.
Bill Murray: How about I spring for one of those guest houses at the Chateau Marmont. I won’t stay there, I’ll just take you out for karaoke and a bittersweet time and then drop you off with an ambiguously platonic kiss on the top of your head.
Lindsay Lohan: That reminds me of a scene from —
Bill Murray: No. No it doesn’t. Because I just made that up, so whatever you were going to say, that’s impossible. Better hit the road. [to Tess] Sayonara.
Tess: Sayonara. [heads back to table, where Mo’Nique is picking at her pie] I guess it’s just you and me, Mo’Nique.
Mo’Nique: Tess, God damn it, he can handle his shit, can’t he?
Tess: Pretty much.
Mo’Nique: And that shit about the fireplace? That’s some smart shit.
Tess: I both agree and disagree with that. More Suntory?
We're just a few guys originally from southwest Michigan—though some of us abruptly left one summer—and we're all world renowned writers. Furthermoresirs