Once More, With Feeling (Gay Marriage, The Rudest City In America and The Kardashians)

(Okay, its recycle time again; I originally posted the essay below back in my salad days (1/28), and since I didn't have another "post" ready for this morning, well, I hope you enjoy my deathless prose in redeau.)

 

I totally do not get this whole hoohaw over gay marriage.

As Pope of the All John All The Time World Church, I believe that it is one of my duties to keep abreast (I'd like to keep more than one) of the issues that face the world and our members every day, so that I can address these topics and be a beacon of light and logic to those that look to their Pope guy for guidance.

Hard to say all that with a straight face.

But of all the issues that the world deals with daily, whether it be the economy, the plight of the poor, healthcare, gun control, terrorism or the latest reality show starring the Kardashians, (just exactly how many Kardashians are there anyway? Every time I look, its like there's another one, doing this photo shoot or that red-carpet appearance, shit, they're like rabbits), the one that perplexes me the most is gay marriage. Why in the world wouldn't you want somebody's marriage to be gay? Wouldn't a happy, carefree union, one that is joyous and spontaneous, wouldn't that be something to strive for? Why would anyone not want...hang on, the Popephone is ringing...JTT...dude...its what?...between two men or women?...whoa, that's not what I was told...Bill, down in the altar and throne department...you're kidding...first of all, tell that asshole that's not funny, then fire him...now, today, yes...okay, call me back when its done...that jerk.

(Frankly, I think gays should be allowed to marry; why shouldn't they just as miserable as the heteros?)

And with no segue whatsoever, in a recent poll in Travel & Leisure, a magazine for Republican boomers with too much money and time on their hands, Los Angeles, the City Of The Angels (the heavenly kind, not the baseball team that plays in Los Angeles of Anaheim), according to the people who were polled, is the Rudest City In America. Not the most scenic, or having the best restaurants, or the most hideous architecture, no, the rudest. In America. The whole country.

Now I live in L.A.; I lived in Chicago and its suburbs almost my entire life, and moved west to Los Angeles when I was 50, having grown tired of standing ass-deep in snow while I spent 10 minutes cleaning off the windshield of my car so I could drive two blocks to the grocery store for a gallon of milk and the latest edition of Big Breast Annual. Notwithstanding the weather, I loved Chicago; great restaurants, incredible museums, including the world class Art Institute, an amazing shoreline along Lake Michigan, the best blues clubs, yeah, Chicago is way cool in my mind. (Chicago is also the home of the world's worst sports franchise, the Chicago Cubs, who, as of this writing in early 2011, have not won a championship in over 100 YEARS. 1908. Sad.)

But I don't agree with the poll that named L.A. as the Rudest City In America. Most stupid, maybe, certainly the most narcissistic but rudest? I don't know, that seems kinda' harsh, you know? I don't think L.A. is any more or less "rude" than any other big city; hell, we're downright civilized compared to some cities. (So I don't have to hear the howls of protest, I'll not mention them by name. NYC.)

So I decided that I would use my bully pulpit as Pope of the AJATTWC, and in defense of it's honor, it's reputation, rally all the residents of Los Angeles to rise up in defiance of Leisure & Travel magazine and have the Kardashians removed from all media in the country. L.A. controls the entertainment industry, and we have the power. That's right, America, all you thoughtless poops who dissed my adopted home, we'll take away the one thing that I know you people cannot subsist without, that's right, the Kardashian family, however many of them there are.

Rudest, huh? Well, you've picked the wrong Marine to screw with, America. From now on, just see how dull your reality shows are without Kim, Khloe, Kourtney, Konnie, Kenny, Kermit, shit, the list just goes on and on and...

Love and TMZ,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Pirates Of The Scarydream

After the Harley Dog and I got back from the planet Xanthous a few days ago, where I attended a conference of galactic spiritual and religious folks (and believe me, those two things are mutually exclusive in many cases, at least here on Earth), I decided we needed a few days of taking it easy on the SS Dee Dee, the Popesedential yacht. Yeah, I know, we did a lot of relaxing when we were on Xanthous, but that was business-related relaxing; its not the same as sailing on the Dee Dee, hanging out, enjoying the sea and doing gross guy things.

For those of you who aren't familiar with me, I'm Pope John The Tall of the All John All The Time World Church, and my buddy and official canine of the Church is the Harley Dog; he's also the backup navigator when we take my atomic powered space ship, the Royal Unionship Kidding, or RU Kidding for short, out on voyages to places "where no man (or woman for that matter) have gone before". Like the planet Xanthous. We're off to the Caecilian Halcyon in the Rings of Anopheles next week, to visit the planet Hyperion, this time to check out some property the Church wants to purchase and build a cathedral upon, you know, something along the lines of the Crystal Palace down there in Orange County CA, only much less ostentatious, which shouldn't be difficult. (The Taj Mahal is less ostentatious than the Crystal Palace.)

Now the SS Dee Dee, as I said, is the official yacht of the Pope Guy, and she's a beauty: a 245 foot, twin-engined craft capable of 5982 knots (that's 38 mph to you non-nautical types, or piR squared plus postage and handling), sleeps 115 guests, (or about 75 NFL defensive lineman), has a swimming pool, beauty salon, casino, massage parlor, pizza parlor, several tennis courts, the Sears Tower (I will NOT call that building "the Willis Tower"; screw the jerks that bought it, they should never have changed the name), two pubs and its own zip-code. Yeah, the Dee Dee is totally cool.

We drove down to the dock where we keep the Dee Dee moored (SSDD, get it, come on you guys, turn the page with me), boarded and went about getting her ready to embark. (By the way, "embark" backwards is "krabme", just so you know. There's a street right down the road from my headquarters here in the sun-drenched, bucolic San Fernando Valley named Moorpark, which is "kraproom" backwards. Now don't you feel better knowing these things?)

We got underway and set sail for our place in the Sargasso Sea, on Snacilbuper Island (pronounced SNACK-ILL-BUPER; you can figure out what that one is backwards by yourselves); the autopilot had us on the right course, and the engines were humming as we cruised along at a nice, leisurely pace. I went below for an adult beverage (nothing for Harley; as far as I know, Harley doesn't drink, at least not in front of me) and we settled in for the afternoon. The sun was bright in the sky, a round ball of heat and light, and its light was a little blinding as it reflected off the water. There was an easy breeze from out of the south, warm and inviting, like a caress on your skin almost, and it made whitecaps on the waves as they broke. There was that fine, marine-salty aroma of the ocean wafting through the air, and as I sat with my feet propped up on the railing, sunning myself and enjoying the day, all was right with the world. It was warm, and exotic and warm, and pleasant, and warm, and we're drifting, and I'm drifting, lazily along with the current...

...riiing...riing...riing...RIING...okay, okay, I'm coming...geez, what time is it?...What...Mike, its 4:00am, this had better be good...they did, when?...you sure?...yeah, that's amazing news...yeah, okay, I'm glad you woke me up...yeah...hey, listen, while I'm thinking of it, are we still on for gerbil golf later?...cool...yeah, call me later...thanks.

My consigliore, the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan (not THAT Michael Jordan, he was the one in that movie "Space Jam" a few years go) just called to tell me the great news, and your Pope couldn't be more pleased. Boy, what a banner day for the planet this is; according to RRMMJ, Kim Kardashian and Paris Hilton Hotel California announced at a post-Grammy Awards party last week THAT THEY HAD ENDED THEIR FEUD AND WERE NOW "BFFs" AGAIN. (You were aware that they were feuding, right?) I am ecstatic, and I'm sure the stock market will rise later today on the strength of this report; optimism will again reign supreme.

Kardashian and Hilton, or as they're otherwise known, the Wit Sisters, Half and Dim.

Of course, this was the second bit of earthshaking news to emanate from "Hollywood" recently; earlier this week, in a surprise development, Charlie Sheen, the star of the hit TV series, "Two And A Half Men", (I always wanted to ask which one was the "half") offered to give advise to Lindsay Lohan on how to handle staying sober, in an effort to assist her in her struggles to regain whatever little common sense, if any, she previously possessed. Unfortunately for Charlie, however, there is a statute in the California Penal Code (CPC 5268 sec(5d) (para L) that states as follows: "In the event that one totally incompetent "Hollywood Celebrity", said "Celebrityness" to be determined by the amount of times said "Hollywood Celebrity" is mentioned in the various tabloids and entertainment media for any drunken and/or drug-induced stupid act, such amount to be no less than five (5) times in any six-month period, offers advise on maintaining sobriety to another "Hollywood Celebrity" of equal or greater doofusness, such attempt at giving advise shall be termed "the blind leading the blind", and said "Hollywood Celebrity" offering such advise shall and will be immediately taken out and shot by the Sheriff's Department of the county in which the "blind leading the blind" offense occurs, to ensure that the spread of gross stupidity be halted as quickly as possible." Hey, Charlie, there are probably 150 families who are dependent on their incomes from being employed on your show who are now not working because you can't stay clean and insist on spending a great deal of your time stoned off your ass in hotel rooms, having drunken, drug-fueled orgies with hookers, or in rehab, which apparently isn't having much effect. How about if you let LiLo screw up on her own and you figure out how to get back to work so all the "little people" on "TAAHM" can get back to earning a living. You douche-bag.

I do so love living in LA (pronounced LAH); its one of the few places in the universe where the possession of an IQ that's roughly equivalent to a good golf score makes you an Einstein. With Hollywood having a lineup like this (Sheen, Lohan, Kardashian and Hilton) there's no way that Washington will ever be able to corner the market on doofusness.

And I hate it when someone wakes me up out of a dead sleep, especially when I'm dreaming; the older I get, the longer it seems to take me to get reaclimated to reality, not that there's a lot of reality going on out here in LA, all the dopey shows to the contrary.

I think Harley and I need a few days of taking it easy on the SS Dee Dee, the Popesedential yacht, which, by the way, was named for my ex-girlfriend, Dee Dee Spanxalot. You know, hanging out, enjoying the sea and doing gross guy things. Wait, that's where this whole nightmare began, up at the top of the page, isn't it?

Never mind.

Love and anchors,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

On Being Kardashian In An Unjust World, Or How Kimmie Could Do Dallas

As Pope of the All John All The Time World Church, I believe it is my duty and my responsibility to address issues that affect my flock (and I suspect there is an unintentional corollary between the use of the term "flock", which would seem to denote sheep in many instances, and the way many religious leaders feel about their followers, myself NOT included, since the AJATTWC doesn't have enough followers to make up a four-handed bridge game, let alone a flock, at least for the moment), and suggest solutions to the problems that plague our world and sometime make our lives so unpleasant.

I was shocked to learn recently, according to an article I read on MSN.com, that Dallas, the home of the MJXLY2KXXL Super Bowl this coming Sunday, is having to deal with the awful calamity of a shortage of strippers to "service" all the fans pouring into the city for the game and all the accompanying festivities. I can't help but think that Dallas, like any big city, does not suffer, under normal circumstances, from any shortage of women willing to remove their clothes for payment. Apparently, its just that there's SO many people in town for an event like the Super Bowl, many of them, I would imagine, being typical testosterone-laden male football fans, that the strip joints in the Big D just don't have the staff to accommodate all the business. (Full disclosure: I too, am a testosterone-laden male NFL fan; I may mature some day and outgrow these childish pursuits...but I doubt it.) You know, you have to feel something akin to pity for all the folks visiting Dallas for the game; they'll just have to make do with staying in their hotel rooms and checking out the porn videos on the pay-per-view TV.

I'll get back to the stripper shortage in Dallas in a moment.

So yesterday I was perusing the 'Net, as I do daily, and was confronted with the headline "Kim Weeps Over Nude Pictures In 'W' Magazine". Do tell, I thought to myself as I clicked on the link.

It seems that Kim Kardashian, of the multitudinous Kardashian family, was visibly upset over nude pictures of her that were recently published in "W" magazine, a publication I had honestly never heard of until yesterday. She broke down in tears on her and sister Kourtney's reality show, cleverly entitled "Kim And Kourtney Take NY", (although there was no indication in the article where they took it), and wept inconsolably, not about the pictures being printed, which was a given, since they were done voluntarily by Ms. Kardashian, but that the magazine had misled her about how they would be exhibited. Kim (may I call you Kim?) seemed to believe that the pics would be done "tastefully" and not expose (irony intended) any of her naughty parts, at least not graphically. However, the magazine apparently changed its mind and published the photos as shot, with all of Kim in full display. Not porn site full exposure, if you get my drift, but I've viewed the pictures in question, in an effort to be fully informed on all the details of this troubling affair, (yeah, right) and there is no doubt that Kim is female. In fact, it would appear that Kim has feminine bodily curves in places that most women don't even have places. Interestingly, KK is covered with silver body paint up to her neck in several of the shots, giving the whole collection an almost "space alien" feel. And for my money, she showed a whole lot more in her 2007 Playboy pictorial.

Now I'm not a follower of "reality" shows and their stars; frankly, the premise strikes me as inane. But its hard not to be aware of the Kardashians, given that there seems to be several hundred of them, and certainly Kim has made no effort to be inconspicuous, and in most photos I've seen of any of the sisters, Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kandy, Kermit, Konnie and Hiram (and my apologies to any I may have omitted), especially Kim, there seems to have been little effort taken to keep their privates, well, private.

So the idea of Ms. Kardashian being upset over explicit nude photos of herself being released to the public, with her history, seems like Bernie Madoff being pissed that he went to jail, just for a little creative accounting. Hey, guys, you ever hear of the word "hypocrisy"? Kim, you're mad because the magazine showed everything you showed? Did you get upset with the sun this morning because it rose in the east?

The magazine commented about Kim's reaction to the photos with a statement, part of which said that the article that accompanied the pictorial was meant to be "a meditation on the influence that reality TV has on contemporary culture". (For my money, you cannot use the words "culture' and "reality TV" in the same sentence, not without choking on the irony.) Probably the funniest, and I'm sure completely unintentional, aspect of this whole affair was, apparently in an effort to maintain some sense of decorum, on the cover photo, which showed Kim in all her birthday suit glory, the magazine printed a banner across her boobs, which said, "It's All About Me". But then it did get even funnier: "W" called the edition "The Art Issue". This whole Kardashian, reality TV thing relates to art the way a hippopotamus relates to a camshaft.

But I have an idea (you were pretty sure I would, right?); if Kim can just get over her upset about how cruelly and despicably she was treated by "W" magazine, she could render a tremendous civic service to the city of Dallas in their time of great need and volunteer to help alleviate the horrendous shortage the city is currently facing. I don't know what "W" paid her for the photos, but there are thousands of horny NFL fans in Dallas currently, with money to burn, whom I suspect would be more than willing to pay to view (view only, no touching) Kim's not-so-private privates.

And let me assure all you followers of the AJATTWC and my blog, that after personally viewing the photos, I can tell you two things; Kim is MORE than qualified for the job, and that her privates are way more like generals.

Love and g-strings,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

At Least He's Not Dating An Alien From The Planet Noloc

Hey, sports fans, its the Pope here, with more scintillating comments on the state of the world as I see it.

Scintillating; pretty good word, huh? (Almost as good as "gerbil".)

I was perusing the 'Net the other day, as part of my duties as the leader of the All John All The Time World Church, when this headline leaped out and grabbed me by the private part:

"Culkin Denies He's Dating A Porn Star".

Okay, now I realize that we exist in an age where there are lots of "celebrities", using the term loosely, who are strictly famous for nothing more than, well, being famous. The Kardashians, all 587 of them, Paris Hilton Hotel California, that repulsive Nicole Richie, the Michelin Tire guy and others who show up at all the right parties, all the right red-carpet events, say inane things that have absolutely no relevance to anything taking place in the real world, and then return to whatever alternate universe in which they reside.

And at least MacCauley Culkin has done some movie acting, most notably the "Home Alone" movies, to give him some cachet as someone who's particular story might be of some interest to the general public, unlike someone like, say, Rachel Uchitel, whom I had never heard of until I saw her on the VH1 series "Celebrity Rehab", who to my knowledge has never done anything of any newsworthiness other than be gorgeous and "party" with other equally "famous" and gorgeous people, and who was told by Janice Dickinson, another "famous" celebrity and costar on "Rehab", that "you were born with a silver spoon up your ass". Yeah, at least MacCauley has a little street cred, although I don't recall any of the "Alone" movies winning any Oscars, or for that matter, any Felixes either. (Since I wrote this post, I found out the Rachel Urchitel was one of Tiger Woods', how can I say, liaisons. Now there's something to be known for; how proud her parents must be.)

But then I see this headline, and the first thing that occurs to me is, Huh?? I mean, who gives a shit if Culkin is or isn't dating a porn star, or for that matter, if he's dating Paris Hilton's Chihuahua. I wasn't aware that the dating habits of MacCauley Culkin were of any particular import to anyone, (other than MacCauley) even if it was a porn star. At least it wasn't a maiden of the Testicles (pronounced TES-TI-CLEES) Halcyon from the Nebula of Cerritos.

But the bigger issue here is, I believe, whether Rachel Urchitel could, in fact, have been born with a silver spoon up her wazoo. I don't know about you guys, but first off, unless Janice Dickinson was there when Uchitel was born, how does she know that? I'm certain Uchitel didn't tell her; I'm pretty sure that Rachel doesn't remember because, like most of us, she was probably quite young when she was born and has little recollection of the event.

Secondly, even if its true, and I believe that issue is debatable, given how uncomfortable that would have been for both Rachel and her mother, once again, who gives a shit? She could have been born with a John Deere tractor in her left ear for all I care, and I suspect most of the people in the "non-famous" world would agree with me.

But my real concern here is how stories of this nature affect my followers in the AJATTWC, and as their Pope, I intend to do what I can to stop this frivolous reporting of what purports to be "news" involving people of questionable notoriety.  I believe reports of this nature lead to confusion in the minds of the common person, which is how I consider myself, despite my Popeosity, about what's important and what is germane to their lives, and gives them a false sense of reality, much like the one so many of our political leaders in Washington seem to have.

I will join this battle just as soon as I finish the article I'm reading about Kim Kardashian; according to the report, she's currently dating the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and says that, despite his rather rotund appearance, he's really a "studmuffin", (pardon the unintentional pun) and that they intend to marry and raise a whole slew of flaky croissants.

I just hope for Kim's sake that none of them are born with a kitchen utensil up their wazoo.

Love and tabloids,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.

Gay Marriage In The Rudest City In America With The Kardashians (???)

I totally do not get this whole hoohaw over gay marriage.

As Pope of the All John All The Time World Church, I believe that it is one of my duties to keep abreast (I'd like to keep more than one) of the issues that face the world and our members every day, so that I can address these topics and be a beacon of light and logic to those that look to their Pope guy for guidance.

Hard to say all that with a straight face.

But of all the issues that the world deals with daily, whether it be the economy, the plight of the poor, healthcare, gun control, terrorism or the latest reality show starring the Kardashians, (just exactly how many Kardashians are there anyway? Every time I look, its like there's another one, doing this photo shoot or that red-carpet appearance, shit, they're like rabbits), the one that perplexes me the most is gay marriage. Why in the world wouldn't you want somebody's marriage to be gay? Wouldn't a happy, carefree union, one that is joyous and spontaneous, wouldn't that be something to strive for? Why would anyone not want...hang on, the Popephone is ringing...JTT...dude...its what?...between two men or women?...whoa, that's not what I was told...Bill, down in the altar and throne department...you're kidding...first of all, tell that asshole that's not funny, then fire him...now, today, yes...okay, call me back when its done...that jerk. (That was my consigliore, the Right Reverens Monsignor Michael Jordan. No, not that one.)

(Frankly, I think gays should be allowed to marry; why shouldn't they just as miserable as the heteros?)

And with no segue whatsoever, in a recent poll in Travel & Leisure, a magazine for Republican boomers with too much money and time on their hands, Los Angeles, the City Of The Angels (the heavenly kind, not the baseball team that plays in Los Angeles of Anaheim), according to the people who were polled, is the Rudest City In America. Not the most scenic, or having the best restaurants, or the most hideous architecture, no, the rudest. In America. The whole country.

Now I live in L.A.; I lived in Chicago and its suburbs almost my entire life, and moved west to Los Angeles when I was 50, having grown tired of standing ass-deep in snow while I spent 10 minutes cleaning off the windshield of my car so I could drive two blocks to the grocery store for a gallon of milk and the latest edition of Big Breast Annual. Notwithstanding the weather, I loved Chicago; great restaurants, incredible museums, including the world class Art Institute, an amazing shoreline along Lake Michigan, the best blues clubs, yeah, Chicago is way cool in my mind. (Chicago is also the home of the world's worst sports franchise, the Chicago Cubs, who, as of this writing in early 2011, have not won a championship in over 100 YEARS. 1908. Sad.)

But I don't agree with the poll that named L.A. as the Rudest City In America. Most stupid, maybe, certainly the most narcissistic but rudest? I don't know, that seems kinda' harsh, you know? I don't think L.A. is any more or less "rude" than any other big city; hell, we're downright civilized compared to some cities. (So I don't have to hear the howls of protest, I'll not mention them by name. NYC.)

So I decided that I would use my bully pulpit as Pope of the AJATTWC, and in defense of it's honor, it's reputation, rally all the residents of Los Angeles to rise up in defiance of Leisure & Travel magazine and have the Kardashians removed from all media in the country. L.A. controls the entertainment industry, and we have the power. That's right, America, all you thoughtless poops who dissed my adopted home, we'll take away the one thing that I know you people cannot subsist without, that's right, the Kardashian family, however many of them there are.

Rudest, huh? Well, you've picked the wrong Marine to screw with, America. From now on, just see how dull your reality shows are without Kim, Khloe, Kourtney, Konnie, Kenny, Kermit, shit, the list just goes on and on and...

Love and TMZ,

PJTT

copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.