rivercityvibe   “Puerile, smutty, schoolboy nonsense” – My Mom

You know when those guys, with their drink on, interrupt live TV? It’s always awesome, isn’t it? I always hope that the reporter is going to lose his or her temper and lay the guy out flat before calmly carrying on with the story. That’s what happened in the old days, apparently. This guy, one “Steve Ryan” by name looks like he wants to, but never quite manages it.

For the record slapping a guy in the face in the style of that one guy, Carson Kressley (made-up name), does not count.

The faces of the anchors at 0.33 are beyond awesome.

They’re dropping like flies. The bearded mathematician Billy Mays cashed in his chips, the other day. For those members of the faithful who live overseas and are clueless as to who this guy is, he’s like the shamwow guy, but without the driving urge to kick the shit out of prostitutes. Basically, if Michael Jackson was the King of Pop, Billy Mays was the king of….errrr…infomercials.

The usual source tells us:

Mays suffered from hypertensive heart disease and that … was the likely cause of his death, though a final determination as to the cause of death would not be made until toxicology and tissue tests are completed

I can imagine there’s quite a line at the VIP entrance to heaven, right now. St. Peter will be manning the guest list, demanding that potential entrants stay behind the red sash until he has verified their identities. In an effort to expedite the process Farrah Fawcett will be fluttering her eyelashes, Michael Jackson will be moonwalking and crying SHA MON at every opportunity. I like to think Billy Mays will jump straight to the front by offering St. Peter a once-in-a-lifetime, two-for-one deal on Oxiclean……….

Not many people seem to remember this, but there were two celebu-deaths on Thursday. A few hours before Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett joined the choir invisible, too.

remember when she was called Farrah Fawcett-Majors?

This is what hot was in the seventies. Bigger hair, smaller chests. It wasn’t so bad, really……..

I post a picture of Lindsay Lohan licking her lips. Megan Fox decides she needs to be in on it too.

I am fine with that whole deal. Seriously. Fine with it.

If anyone has any more pics of chicks licking their lips in this way, I’ll post them like they’re going out of fashion…..

I guess this sort of post is why the Florida Times Union has banned me from their website.

Not highbrow enough for them.

(LAG!)

As it is impossible not to know by now, last night the King of Pop was murdered by his enablers. With all the hysterical bullshit coverage in the media (decorum, please………) and the unpleasantness that is bound to ensue, I am relieved that my feelings about his music seem unlikely to ever change.

You see, for my generation his songs were the incidental music in our lives*. At boarding school we listened to Thriller and Bad on orange “mix” cassettes that a friend’s 11th grade brother used to make for him. (They lived in the Bahamas. I don’t know why that is relevant information, but it is).

So whenever I hear Michael Jackson I am nostalgic for a time of boring sundays, local talent, stegophily and Nelly’s Pond. That’s what his music does for me.

*My actual theme tune was Gold by Spandau Ballet, if you’re curious.

I think the whole Perez Hilton thing interfered with the vibe. You know – the river city vibe. In cases like this there is literally only one thing to do to restore harmony:

Here’s Lindsay:

Aaaaaaah.

That’s better.

I am going to have to seek out some karmic balance today, to make up for the content of this post. You see, it is a celebration of violence against a former Assclown of the Week winner.

Basically, I am going to have to spin a hundred prayer wheels and then free Tibet to get out of this one, because to compound it all, the guy in question is a gay and it is not cool by any standards to bash the gays. Celebrating it, as I am here, pretty much needs an intervention from His Holiness the Dalai Lama to avoid coming back as a roach.

I am of course, talking about that loudmouth assclown Perez Hilton. Here is a picture of Perez having his clock cleaned (as he so richly deserves, the snivelling little shit). Enjoy:

As you can see by the AWESOME LOGO this comes from a sort of rivercityvibe for insecure canadians called drinktheglitter.com. It shows the moment at which a member of the Black Eyed Peas entourage dispenses with Perez after witnessing Perez (real name “I am an attention whore”) calling rapper Will.I.Am a “fag”.

So that’s it. We’re in the clear of all accusations of celebrating gay bashing. It turns out that the gays hate Perez too. Those worthies at the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) had this to say:

“We have reached out to Hilton and asked him to apologize for promoting this anti-gay slur, and we would ask media outlets to avoid repetition of the slur in their coverage of this story.
For someone in our own community to use it to attack another person by saying that it is, quote, ‘The worst possible thing that thug would ever want to hear,’ is incredibly dangerous.
It legitimizes use of a slur that is often linked to violence against our community. And it sends a message that it is OK to attempt to dehumanize people by exploiting anti-gay attitudes.”

Nicely put. Here’s another picture of Perez. I would love to know what the Queer Eyes guys think of him.

I think that’s enough Perez, for a while.

As a season ticket holder to the Jacksonville Axemen, I like to go to all home games, drink the dollar beer and mock the cheerleaders. For those of you who don’t know, the Axemen are our local Rugby League team, and they play at University of North Florida. I should say that they deserve our support because they UTTERLY FUCKING DOMINATED in the first two home games of the season. They have now won four games in a row and sit on top of the ladder. Be proud, Jacksonville.

Conclusive

So far this season, we have played a couple of yankee teams at home and have handed them their scrota on a plate. Seasoned.

I think I know why.

Putting aside the undoubted talents of Australian Spinner Howland, the manager/coach/scrum half (nearly did himself a mischief on Saturday …) they also have a secret weapon in the Pope brothers. Taco and Apple.

You know, Taco Pope and his brother, Apple.

Taco Pope.....

...and his brother, Apple.

These two legends prove the rule that not everyone with hippy parents grows up a Birkenstock-wearing wuss. These guys may well wear Birkys – I don’t know, I don’t care, but you’re not going to mock them for it. They’d steamroller you. They’d rag doll you around the field like you were nothing……..

I hear there is a third one called Pepsi.

I shit you not.

Smokin’, smokin’ hot Olivia Munn. She could throw the dog a bone.

Literally.

This picture is, of course, from her recent Playboy shoot. Interesting-ish fact about Munn:

Munn was predominantly raised in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo, Japan,[4] where the military assigned her stepfather. During this time, she had appeared in a number of local theater productions, and later became a model within the Japanese fashion industry…

But her Asian looks are from her Chinese mother. Not many people realize that.

(How do I feel about Munn? Well, I’d walk 300 miles over burning coals just to “David Carradine” myself in her shadow. Seriously. Big fan).

The drive for companies to produce something that “goes viral” has resulted in some genuinely funny stuff on the word wide interweb. This Bud Light commercial is one of them. It strikes a chord with me, having been in a similar situation to the protagonist more than once.

(Note: This does not count as an endorsement of Bud Light. Joe would not drink that nastiness. It’s like weak weasel piss).