From 1999’s Any Given Sunday, Coach Tony D’Amato (Al Pacino) delivers an inspirational locker room speech made significantly less inspirational through remixing by Catsandbeer.com.

The Setup

10 years ago, the once and future staff of Catsandbeer.com left the comfortable confines of Baltimore County for the halls of higher learning. While Keith went to science school in Colorado for science stuff, I hobnobbed with the children of celebrities in New York. But my star turn was nothing compared to that of our friend Dr. Jeff.

Then Pre Med Freshman Jeff found himself in Amish country at the same university as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers stalwart Jason Narvy. That’s right: Dr. Jeff was going to school with Bulk’s hapless comic foil, the inimitable and decidedly unbulky Eugene “Skull” Skullovitch.

Keith and I were delighted.

The Idea

The plan was simple: deceive Mr. Narvy, gain his trust, and then …

Actually, I don’t remember what we were hoping to get out of this.

But I do remember that Keith and I spent many an enthusiastic hour devising social engineering exercises to fuck with this one-hit character actor of not insignificant renown who as far as we knew never hurt anybody.

Here is an email from my old Yahoo account illustratively representative of many others of its kind. I’ve italicized Keith’s inline notes:

Sent: Thursday, October 8, 1998 12:26 AM
Subject: Narvy
From: "Keith" <xxxxxxxxxxx@yahoo.com>
To: "Brian" <xxxxxxxxxxx@yahoo.com>

Dear Jason,

This is kind of embarrassing, but I saw your name on a list from my best-friends college and I’ve been dying with curiosity to know if it’s really you ever since. When I saw your name I said "that name sounds awful familiar." I realized a day later that it was Jason Narvy who I knew better as "Skull." I know you probably get a lot of fanmail (this line may be a little too over-the-top) but I just had to write.

My name is Darren, which, believe it or not, is a girl’s name, as well as a guy’s. I’m a freshman right now at New York University where I plan to get a degree in psychology. Maybe I’ll write my senior thesis on the probable causes of the dysfunctionality of Bulk and Skull! I’m kidding. I’m not a stalker or anything.

If this is really you, I’d love for you to email me back. I hope you’re not mad at me for sending an email to you at school. I swear I won’t tell anyone else where you are, unless you want me to or something. Anyway, please email me back! I’m dying to know!

Sincerely,
Darren ********* (last name goes here)

The Analysis

I think the idea for the girl having a guy’s name was mine. I’ve often contended it’s cool for someone to be the first hot girl to have a guy’s name (see James — now Jaime — King). So it stands to reason that I would push this curious element to add a bit of peculiar believability.

Oh, and one of my three freshman year suitemates was named Darren, so part of the plan was probably to send the emails from his school account.

For contemporaneous commentary, here are Keith’s notes on his thought process behind crafting "Darren’s" email:

- misspellings, and the grammar is purposely a little sloppy to make it seem more authentic and to give it that girly/groupie quality

- it needs to display some knowledge of who Jason Narvy is, but not too much

- is Jeff being let in on this? Jeff has the tendency to sometimes be a stupid-ass motherfucker who just doesn’t get it. I’m worried that if he is in on it, he might do something stupid to blow our cover. Ponder these words carefully, and feel free to reference the entire Jew/Yom Kippur conversation between Jeff and I as an example of him not getting it

- I think that ‘Darren’ needs to seem intelligent (she’s in college after all) but still have a naivete about her that makes her seem so innocent, so……..uncorrupted by other men

- Before anything is sent, I’d kinda like to see it, just so that I can read through it. It might be helpful to have a group troubleshooting session before each email is sent, just to make sure that we aren’t making any errors. We should keep copies of the emails (to him and from him) for cross-checking our facts. With a name like Narvy, you know you’re dealing with a smart cookie. We can’t afford to fuck this up.

Keith

Keith was right — the stakes were very high.

Neither Keith nor I can today recall what he’s referencing with "the entire Jew/Yom Kippur conversation," though Dr. Jeff has a memory like a ginkgo addicted elephant so he himself might be able to shed some light on the matter.

I’d also be remiss to not point out that in spite of any apprehension about letting Jeff in on the scheme, the good doctor would, as Keith puts it, "within years handle himself with the utmost style and grace in a certain ub3r haxx0r scheme, proving that [he] is perfectly capable of conducting a shenanigan.” I imagine the details of that wonderful tale will one day be related here after the cyber crime statute of limitations runs out.

The Almost Execution

We planned and prepped and moved ever closer to the great day we would put our fantastic scheme into action. And then we never did. I don’t remember why. I know that’s a shitty way to end the story but nothing ever happened. Sorry.

The Post Mortem and Future?

Wikipedia tells us that after earning his Bachelor of Arts in English, Mr. Narvy went on to collect a Master of Letters in Renaissance Literature in Performance from Mary Baldwin College and the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, Virginia and then to pursue a Ph.D. in Dramatic Arts at the University of California, Santa Barbara. He also traded in his black pleather for a smart button-down and tie.

In corresponding with Keith about this article, he asked that the following message accompany its publication:

I’d like to apologize to Jason Narvy for any psychic wounds I may have contemplated inflicting upon you while you pursued your studies at the "Stanford of the lower Susquehanna River Valley."

So there you have it: the story of the time we almost fucked with Skull from the Power Rangers and then didn’t.

Would it have worked? Sadly, we’ll never know for sure. We can only hope that at some point Jason will find his way to this site and give us his best guess based on a recollection of his mindset at the time.

Update!

Jumping on the latest political meme sweeping the Internet, I hereby submit the most abstruse and esoteric entry in the "Barack Obama equals this, Joe Biden equals this, John McCain equals this, Sarah Palin equals this" fad:

I figure 1 out of 500 will recognize these guys, so we’ll need between 501 and 1,000 readers before this means something to anyone other than Keith.

A story recently broke in a highly reputable British newspaper that North Korean dictator Kim Jong-Il died in 2003 and has been replaced by a team of body-doubles that he had trained to be experts in looking like him. It doesn’t often go reported, but today we’ll take a look at other well-known persons who have been dead for an extended time but live on via skillful look-alikes.

1. Rick Neuheisel

The scandal-clad football coach quietly passed away due to a brain aneurysm in 2002. In his will, he stipulated that a coaching droid should be constructed so that he might posthumously fulfill his lifelong wish of coaching soon-to-be Baltimore Ravens quarterback Kyle Boller. The droid was commissioned in 2005. Unfortunately, in late 2007 the droid attained full sentience and seized control of the UCLA football program, robbing a series of San Bernardino jewelry stores in the process. This is a nightmarish example of what happens when man treads in the domain of the gods.

2. Maynard James Keenan

The iconic frontman of Tool and A Perfect Circle quietly passed away from a stroke in 2006. Owing to the poor dietary habits engendered by constant touring, his doctors believe the stroke occurred while Maynard was straining to evacuate his bowels in a Munich, Germany hotel room. Unwilling to issue refunds to concertgoers, his bandmates instead chose to recruit a doppelganger from a nearby S&M dungeon. Owing to the German legal systems ancient roots in Paganism, Maynard’s death was reclassified as a “soul transfer” and the look-alike officially became Maynard James Keenan, hence the lack of reporting in American media sources. Since his soul transfer, little has changed about Maynard’s music except for the exclusive lyrical focus on coprophagia.

3. Tone-Loc

The hip-hop pioneer and inspiration for Weird Al’s “Gilligan’s Isle-Thing” passed away quietly in 1995 from the complications of diabetes. Having been displaced from the mainstream by the burgeoning gangsta rap movement, his death went largely unnoticed. Because few can remember what Tone-Loc actually looked like, he has been replaced by a rotating cast of substitutes including such notables as Isaiah Whitlock Jr. (1998), Rae Dawn Chong (2001) and Cuba Gooding Jr. (2006). In fact, in Daddy Day Camp, Cuba Gooding Jr. is actually credited as Tone-Loc.

4. Sen. Chris Dodd

The senior senator from Connecticut was quietly stillborn in 1944. Fearing a malpractice claim, his attending obstetrician immediately replaced him with an orphaned baby whose father, coincidentally, illegitimately sired the girl who would go on to voice the character Daphne on the original Scooby Doo cartoons. The newborn orphan was an almost exact match for the stillborn Dodd, allowing the subterfuge to succeed. Pundits suspect that Dodd could be the senator from a more important state such as Texas or Arizona were he not the abandoned bastard offspring of nomadic white trash.

5. Louie Anderson

The pleasantly plump comedian quietly passed away from pneumonia in 2002, shortly following his departure from Family Feud. He was replaced by actress Camryn Manheim who saw the gender-bending role as an opportunity to boost her acting skills. When polled, most critics believed that it was Camryn Manheim who was dead and Louie Anderson who continued to portray her.

6. Kerri Strug

The spritely Olympic heroine quietly drowned while trying to rescue a dog that had fallen through the ice of a pond in 2006. Being one amongst a set of identical octuplets, the Reebok corporation saw fit to replace her with one of her siblings to complete the post-Olympic speaking tour to which she was contractually bound. Unfortunately, the tour was passing through the northern tier of America where each of Kerri’s siblings consecutively perished while rescuing dogs from frozen ponds. Kerri Strug was finally pronounced dead on February 27, 2006 following Mary-Ann’s drowning. All dogs survived their icy ordeals.

7. Andrei Kirilenko

The stone-faced Utah Jazz forward quietly passed from viral meningitis in early 2008. Prior to his death, he was reportedly seen making out with guard Deron Williams although this report can’t be substantiated nor can it be proven that this was the source of his infection. Following his death, the Jazz moved quickly to replace Kirilenko with actor and look-alike Dolph Lundgren. Interestingly, his 3-pt accuracy and assist per game saw substantial improvement after Lundgren took over for Kirilenko. Utah residents did not have any strong feelings about the dead player switcheroo trick so long as their beloved Jazz kept winning, but most did feel strongly that an internet-based list should have either 5 or 10 entries, but definitely not 7.

Time magazine reports that as mayor of Wasilla, Alaska, Republican Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin wanted to ban books from public libraries.

But which controversial titles did Governor Palin so desperately want to keep out of the hands of book-loving Alaskans? In an astounding worldwide exclusive, Catsandbeer.com has obtained the highly sought after list!

Sarah Palin’s Banned Books

Link up any I left off.

Developing …

Developing …

Ed. Note – Catsandbeer.com recruited Denver-area rapper (?) and entrepreneur Three Dolla Billy aka 3DB to report on the important goings-on in his area. Unfortunately, he pawned the camera we gave him for cash so he doesn’t actually have any photo documentation of any of this. Having sunk in $200 for the camera plus $37 in cash to get him to write this report, we feel no choice but to publish it with stock and file photos – kind of a principles thing. Please don’t ask us to make sense of it; we don’t have a fucking clue either.

Yeah, okay. My homo Keith sez dat I should write bout my bizness dealings at da [Democratic National] Convention dat we just had in Denva cuz he wuz outta town and couldn’t be there ta report on it. I wuz excited fo da convention cuz me and Uncle Chucky wuz gonna make lots of moneys having da buttsex with all da homos dat wuz coming here to vote or some shit like dat. But it turned out ta be a big disappointment cuz we didn’t make lots mo moneys and I’m probably gonna have to whup sum ass at da Denva Chamba of Commerce fo mischaracterizin’ da net economic impact upon cash-based entaprises like my buttsex bizness. Okay, so I tell y’all bout what happened during da convention.

Day 1

Aight, dis a drawin’ of my roommate Paco who don’t want his picture drawn and he wit a dog dat is dead now cuz one day I bet El Guapo dat he couldn’t do a wheelie on his moped and den he ran ova da dog.

Yeah, okay. Y’all probably know dat mos mornings, me and Marky start off eating French toast sticks outta da garbage at Burga King in Golden den go sell stolen cat food to old ladies ova in Lakewood. But cuzza da convention I decided dat me and Chucky should head down ta Denva so dat we could start roundin’ up bizness early.

Now Chucky ain’t used ta being up at dat time of da morning cuz his diabetic coma don’t usually wear off til noon or so, and he been real bitchy since he got dat abscess on his foot and Marky cut it out wit a pocketknife, so he wuz suhprised ta see me dis early in da morning. So Chucky’s screamin’ a lot and keep fallin’ outta his wheelchair and da RTD bus driva sez dat we need to get off da bus if I can’t keep Chucky unda control. So I whup Chucky’s ass til he shut da fuck up den we take da bus down ta Speer.

Aight, so we get down there and my worst fears wuz realized cuz Hernando had beat us down there and wuz tellin’ all da dudes dat he do mo betta buttsex den I do. So I have ta start my day by whuppin’ his ass and tellin’ him dat he betta not come down ta da convention no mo cuz I got a monopoly on da downtown buttsex trade. Den he start feedin’ me sum shit bout how he tengo da libertad de concurrencia libre and I tell him dat he can va de excursion al Federale or thereabouts cuz me an Chucky had da downtown locked down.

Yeah, so Hernando go and me and Chucky have a good day doin’ lots of licky spurts and rapey creams. And Chucky was real happy cuz I found him half a meatball marinara sub in da trash ta eat so he didn’t even complain much when da dude who went ta Princeton peed on him. I told dat dude dat Princeton wuzn’t shit cuz I went ta Cornell and they much betta fo studyin’ da public policies. Okay, so yeah there wuz lots of dudes in bizness suits who paid da moneys fo da buttsex and then they liked it and I liked it cuz we made da moneys.

Okay, so dat night I drop Chucky off in a good alley and go back ta Golden to sleep. So I get home and den da phone ring. So Paco answer da phone and tell me dat its Marky but he ain’t gonna let me use da phone unless I pay him da moneys fo 17 monfs of back rent. But I tell Paco dat I gonna have him and Miguel deported back ta Mexico if he don’t give me da phone, so he do. Aight, den Marky is on da phone cussin’ me out cuz I didn’t tell him dat I wuzn’t gonna sell cat food wit him back in da morning. So I sez ta him dat this a good opportunity fo him ta work on his own sales acumen and not rely on me ta make him da money dat he needs ta go out and buy mo painkillas and heroin. So he sez dat I should fuck off and den I go ta bed.

Day 2

Okay, dis iz Marky and Chucky hangin’ out behind da Arbys cuz dey pals. Chucky iz lookin’ pretty pissed there cuz he can’t reach down ta get da Beef ‘n Chedda or Jamocha shake and Marky too bizy ta help him.

Yeah, okay. So I’m walking down Colfax ta go pick up Chucky and I see da po-po rollin’ sum homo up so I go ova there ta watch it and laugh. But when I get ova there, I see dat they takin’ down Marky wit a choke hold. So I aks da otha cop what Marky done and da cop sez dat Marky just robbed sum dude at knifepoint fo his moneys. Aight, and ta make mattas worse, da cops is confiscatin’ our cat food as stolen contraband or sum shit like dat. So I tell Marky dat he a stupid homo and he owe me back da moneys fo da product dat he just lost, but he tell me ta fuck off so I tell him dat I whup his ass when he get out. Den da cop aks me if I know about da stolen cat food so I tell him dat I don’t know nuffin’ bout dat and run away down Union Blvd.

Aight, so now I’m late and y’all homos know dat time is money. So, ta make up for lost time I have ta severely cut short my morning beating of Chucky which probably mean dat he won’t be on his game. So we get back downtown and I send Chucky off around da corna where sum dudes from Iowa pay da moneys ta watch Chucky take a dump into a Safeway bag. Den I go into Starbucks and steal a couple coffees off da counta so dat me an Hernando can have sumthing ta drink while we discuss who do da betta buttsex.

Aight, so we drinkin’ our Starbucks when sum dude wit a beard and a pony tail and glasses and sandals come up ta us and say dat Starbucks is corporate bullshit and dat we shouldn’t be supportin’ dat stuff. So I sez ta him dat given da generally corrupt governments in coffee growin’ regions of da world, there’s no way ta actually prove da supply chain continuity of so-called fair trade coffee and more den likely da coffee dat he drinkin’ is probably da exact same shit grown by broke-ass, subjugated homos dat Starbucks is buyin’. And he ain’t got nuffin’ ta say bout dat so den he pays me da moneys fo 3 lickey rapes, a spurty cream and 2 googly sucks.

Aight, den afta bout 6PM, Chucky starts vomitin’ blood again and all da dudes say dat they can’t get hard when he doin’ dat, so I have ta take him home and beat him extra hard fo all da money dat he jus cost me. Also I’m mad cuz sum dude from da Democratic National thing sez he gonna pay me eight thousand dollas if he and his buddies can hire Chucky fo da entire morning ta take turns strangling him and jerkin’ off on his face. So dat mean I gotta kill an entire morning by myself and dat shit is boring.

Day 3

Yeah, dis Hernando and Bag Lady Edna watchin’ da kids feed da ducks at da pond in da park while Edna take a dump. I’m pissed off cuz she wipin’ wit da McDonalds hamburga wrappa dat I wuz gonna give Chucky ta lick off da ketchup fo a snack.

Yeah, okay. So I drop Chucky off at da hotel and tell da dude dat rented him dat if they kill Chucky den they owe me $50,000 ta make up fo lost wages. Den I head ova toward Broadway to see if I can find Hernando and whup his ass or sumthing. But today, Hernando got Bag Lady Edna ta hold his fur coat fo him while he do spurty dongs, so I know dat I’m outnumba’d in dat fight. So instead we all go and pick food outta da trash at Arby’s. But I’m still bored afta dat and ain’t no political homos around due ta sum organizational shit so I head back ova ta Lakewood ta watch da Price is Right wit Retard Dickie.

Aight, so like usual, Dickie is at da corna of Pierce and 20th watchin’ on his handheld TV. So I aks him if he want ta come downtown wit me so dat we can watch da show while I make da moneys. He don’t know nuffin’ bout dat, so I take him on da bus and we go back down ta Speer. Okay, so da thing wit Dickie is dat you can’t let him outta ya sight or he get hit by a car so wheneva dudes wanted buttsex I had to take him in da alley wit me. But dat’s okay cuz da deluxe $25 DNC special (5 spurty licks, 2 rapey dongs, 3 dongy spurts, 8 googly spoogs and 1 rapey cream) was popula, so I had lots of time ta watch wit him while doing da rapings. I told Dickie dat da black dude wuz stupid ta bet on da second showcase cuz da ones wit da portable campas is always impossible to guess right whereas da Carribean cruises is always bout da same price. Den Dickie ain’t got nuffin’ ta say bout dat.

Okay, so I left Retard Dickie in da alley when I had ta go pick up Chucky and I guess Dickie’s parents musta called da cops when they found out he wuz gone cuz when I got back I got rolled up. But when we got ta da station, Dickie’s parents didn’t press no charges cuz dey know me from da time dat me and Marky saw Dickie watchin’ TV out in da rain so I took him down ta da Arby’s on Colfax ta dry out and den I took $4 outta his pocket to buy myself a Big Montana and a jamocha shake. Dat’s also da time dat Marky OD’ed on vicodin in da bafroom. Aight, so I got outta jail and I wuz mad cuz dey ain’t served dinner ta me beforehand. Also when I got back to da alley I saw dat Chucky had fallen outta his wheelchair and had a seizure, so he wuzn’t making da moneys either. So again, I lost lotsa moneys and wuz pissed off and didn’t like dat.

Day 4

Aight, here Retard Dickie watchin’ da televisions at da corna of Pierce and 20th. Dis wuz drawn at 10AM, so he probably watchin’ Texas Justice and he like dat.

Okay, dis wuz da last day of da convention and I felt dat I needed ta make up fo lots of lost opportunities. I figured dat if I could find five or six famous politics dudes ta shit in Chucky’s mouth, I’d pretty much break even. Also, wit da recent Yuan and Euro contracts dat I had shorted comin’ due and da anticipated gains in da value of da dolla, I figured dat those investments would allow me ta come out slightly ahead fo da week. So I wheel Chucky down to da Convention Centa and went up da steps to yell dat we wuz ready to do some rapings but den da police grabbed me and Chucky and put us in a cage out in sum parkin’ lot.

They said dat dis wuz a free speech zone and we could say anything we wanted there. But da cage was also filled wit lotsa dudes wearin’ bandannas on they faces. I aksed dem if they wuz homo thugs too and they got mad at dat. Den Chucky shit himself and it started leaking through da seat of his sweatpants and out da bottom of his wheelchair. I started ta beat Chucky fo wastin’ a perfectly good shit and ruinin’ da sweatpants dat Paco just washed 3 weeks ago. But den sum girl wit dreadlocks come ova and tell me dat violence ain’t da answer and sumthing bout killing women and children in Iraq. So I sez ta her dat jus cuz she a girl don’t mean I won’t do spurty sucks or googly rapes wit her fo da moneys as long as she pay a 15% surcharge for being a girl. Den she called me a pig and don’t give me da moneys so me and Chucky leave.

Aight, so me and Chucky go walking up da block and we pass a movie theater and Chucky say dat he need ta pee so I pull his pants down and let him pee on da sidewalk. But he can’t lean off ta da side of his chair ta pee cuz den he always go spastic and fall out, so I gotta hold his dong off ta da side while he go so dat he don’t piss himself. So den I’m standin’ there wit Chucky’s dong and I’m lookin’ at one of da postas outside da theater fo dat movie Death Race and I like it and start doing da touchings den a cop come and arrest me and Chucky fo doin’ lewd acts in public. And dat wuz how my visit ta da convention ended.

Conclusion

Okay, da Democratic Convention sucked cuz we didn’t make lots of moneys. In da 4 days we wuz downtown, me and Chucky only brought in $47,293. Dats off from median August rape sales by 9.3%. I can only conclude from dat data dat da demographics of Democratic voters is non-compatible with cash-based buttsex biznesses. Also, they have too many women in they party and should work harder to find mo dudes with da moneys who like da rapings. Now, if da treasury lending rates recova within da next 18 monfs and there’s another Democrat convention in town, I expect dat I can make mo money den dis time. Also, if I begin accepting credit card payments den I probably get mo buttsex customas cuz most of da homos in town wuzn’t carryin’ much cash. At least dat’s what Slick Ricardo told me cuz he stole lots of they wallets.

In conclusion, even though I didn’t make the moneys and I hate da homos who came ta Denva fo dat, I ain’t gonna fret bout it cuz I can use this experience to learn from and do betta bizness next time I go downtown. And Professor Thomas said dat’s da most important thing bout bizness is flexibility and not constrainin’ yaself ta da classical canons and modalities of supply and demand based economics . Yeah, okay.

Like all good writing platforms, Wordpress allows you to start, work on, and save articles you’d like to finish at a later date. Unfortunately also like all good writing platforms, Wordpress won’t finish those drafts for you or turn bad ideas into good ones.

So what better way is there to clear out a little clutter AND publish something before the end of July than to just throw together stuff I’ve come to realize I’ll never finish writing? I don’t care because that’s what I’m doing.

Welcome to Second Life, Anal Snoodle!

Yes, I could have made some funny in-game videos but that would have required a) a lot of work and b) that I played Second Life longer than the 30 minutes it took me to not want to play Second Life any longer than 30 minutes.

And so it begins …

I’ve heard about Second Life, as I’m sure have many of you, numerous times over the past few years. Man did/does it ever sound so stupid. SO stupid. I remember reading an article on Forbes.com or some such business site about Second Life’s first true millionaire, that someone had made enough imaginary dollars in the game to have the equivalent of a million real dollars in first life.

If that person didn’t cash out then, even if selling off the imaginary shit cost her 50% of that mil, she must be crying now or will be shortly.

Here’s that article (not on Forbes), Second Life’s First Millionaire. I see I even left a comment there:

Brian
August 6, 2007 04:21 PM

oh my god, this woman has to be smart right now – figure out an exit strategy and begin it – if that means dump it as quickly as possible and only end up with $500k, so be it – just get out of there and come out big-time ahead – I’m picturing myself in her shoes a year from now or whenever Second Life runs its course looking at her worthless Linden dollars and thinking back to when she had the equivalent of a mil USD and wanting to throw up – GET OUT NOW LADY – you did something remarkable but it will all get wiped away if you don’t act soon!

Sound advice then, whenever I wrote this draft, and now.

I used promo code WAIT76 with the promise that "you get a yellow duck and a freebie car." The duck is yellow and the price is right!

Downloaded the windows client – surprised you still can’t just play this shit through a browser – lame.

Second_Life_1-19-1-4_Setup.exe – 36 megs – that’s gotta be a whole lot of virtual boobs.

Probably true, but sadly Mr. A. Snoodle never found out for sure.

Remembering Tim Russert: What An Asshole

Never quite figured out where to go with that one.

Made it further with the first part of the title though, but couldn’t land on what totally non-Tim Russert stuff Tim Russert should be into so it’s kind of all over the place. Never cleaned it up or made it really good because, well, the iron on this one stopped being hot long ago.

Still, it remains a funny idea, just one never fully realized funnily.

Remembering Tim Russert

Today the world continues to mourn the passing of Tim Russert, long-time host of Meet The Press. Tim passed away last Friday at the age of 58.

Like so many others, my life was touched by Tim, not only every Sunday morning for the past 17 years as host of that storied Sunday stalwart, but through the personal relationship I was so lucky to share with him.

Always there with a kind word of support, one of Tim’s greatest gifts was that he really listened. When I’d be working on a story, unsure of how to proceed as I endeavored to cut wheat from chaff, Tim was there ready to hear me out and to offer encouragement, support, and guidance.

"B.A.," he’d say (he called me B.A. not knowing that the only other person in the world to ever call me that was Jeff Mindel. And Chris Semesky, I think. Maybe Michael Kirchner too. And some people in DC. Probably others I’m forgetting as well)

I’m realizing now that the level to which a person can understand/enjoy this piece is directly related to how many dozens of hours of MSNBC that person watched the days and week following Russert’s death.

"B.A., if you’re going to come, you gotta come correct or not come at all. Bomb on these motherfuckers HARD. Show them who the fuck you are. Make them understand. Fucking MAKE them. Now go get ‘em."

A familiar and cherished "go get ‘em" and then he was out, back to busting heads and riding on fools, a knowing smile on his face and a fat blunt in his hand.

Eh.

He was the consummate player-coach and sports, well, sports were the one thing he loved more than politics.

His Bills, his beloved Buffalo Bills. Oh the hours we’d spend at the water cooler, in his office, at the bar discussing the pride of Buffalo. His pride …

"Losman? You’re telling me that fucktard is our starting qb again? Jim Fucking Kelly used to lace ‘em up and now this fucking burnout is the #1 guy? Who’s gonna push him? Trent Edwards? That Stanford fag is there to take the other guys’ Wonderlics, not to throw the fucking ball. Who else we got? Gibran Hamdan? WHO THE FUCK IS GIBRAN HAMDAN? Jesus Christ, fuck me!"

His famed religious devotion extended far beyond the figurative language of athletic admiration. His Irish-Catholic upbringing molded him, defined him. But he never allowed it to enter his place of business, oh no.

That round table he ruled so well, it would have done Arthur and his knights proud the way Tim held court there every Sunday morn. Facing the nation was one thing, but to meet the press was to face Tim and, well, people had better have done their homework. Because no one did theirs like Tim …

"Don’t step onto my show if you ain’t know your shit. I dare you to try it. I’m BEGGING you to fucking try it. Come on my show without doing your homework? Are you out of your fucking mind? You better not just do that shit, you better do it, have your teacher check it, then redo it again before you step up in my world, baby! Motherfuckas can’t be sirrrrrious coming on without knowing they shit inside and out.

You saw what I did to Duke, right? Don’t tell me you ain’t see what the fuck I did to Duke! Motherfucker was gonna be governor of Louisiana before he stepped into my world. "Meet the Press" — dude met my deock! That boy must have been out of his cotdamned mind trying to pull that shit with me.

And Perot? Perot?! 80 billion couldn’t save his triflin’ ass peddling that shit to me. To me! Old man musta had early onset alzheimer’s or sunthin to think he could pull that shit with Big Russ’s boy. CHUUUUUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Ah, Big Russ. Did a son ever love a father or a father love a son more than those Russert Boys? I dare say not. In fact, it’s disgusting to even dream that you and your father or you and your son could ever be as close as the Russerts were.

Tim loved his father, loved him so dearly as we all know. And he gave him, and gave us and the world a gift, his touching memoir Big Russ & Me …

"Big Russ gets down. Big Russ gets motherfucking down. The B.R. and the T.R. connection known to mob on hos. Known to run train on ‘em.

And dude drove a garbage truck. A GARBAGE TRUCK. Holy shit that’s keeping it real. An so guess what, guess what I did then when I was a kid … worked on a garbage truck too. Thas right, thas right, I had to know how my old man did it so I did it the same damn way.

Russerts is salt of the fucking Earth. Preach! Russerts is that old salt. Cross us an we rubbin’ salt in ya wounds too cousin. Big Russ did that. Russ Jr. did that. And now I’m making sure Russ #3 doing that shit too. That’s right that’s right that’s right. We doing this tri-generationalogically my dudes! Luke get your ass over here!"

Some of my fondest memories of Tim were of him and Luke. Tim was so proud to be a father and so so proud of his son. He introduced me to Luke at a game at Fenway. Wonderful days at the ballpark, cheering on those "Red Sox faggots" as he called them. Great, great times …

"This is my boy Luke aka Triple L D aka Ladies Love Luke’s Dick. HOLLA! My boy a straight pussy fiend. He be like some sort of new periodic table of elements pussy magnet or something. Suck suck sucking that pussy up like a vaccum an shit. Just like his old man. Yeah that’s right, you know the big guy packing the big meat, fam."

Indeed we do.

Indeed we do.

Go get ‘em, big guy. Give those fags in Heaven hell.

:)

Movie Spoilers: Superhero Movie!

I wanted to write the complete spoilers for Superhero Movie before it came out (without actually seeing it, of course).

But I didn’t, it came out, and now it’s too late even though I still haven’t seen it.

I did write an intro though!

Holy Bat Thing, Batman (lol)!

All right film freaks, I know you’ve been fiending for this for months. Hell, some of you might have been waiting for years. Well the wait is almost over because we are now officially one week and one day away from the release of Superhero Movie!!!

Sure, Meet the Spartans met expectations. And yeah, Epic Movie was undeniably epic. But Superhero Movie has been and remains the ripening fruit on the Scary Movie family tree that straight up gets my dick HARD.

I’ve quite literally shouldered a preposterous priapism from the moment this Mazin-Mazin collabo was announced, but it will all be worth it when SM explodes on the silver screen 192 short hours from now.

Now here’s the rub and where things really get sticky.

Don’t remember why all the dick jokes.

Moments ago I received what I believe to be 100% completely accurate spoilers for Superhero Movie. Now I have no idea how the author managed to see the movie, but I have confirmed their authenticity with multiple trusted Catsandbeer spies.

SPOILER ALERT!!!! SPOILER ALERT!!!!

STOP READING NOW if you don’t want even the tiniest tidbit of this surefire comic and critical masterpiece ruined!

…

Still here? OK, you’ve been warned. I’ll let our naughty little spoiler take it from here …

"Hi Brian, this is my first time writing to Catsandbeer. If you use this info call me KiOSjk2008.

I just came out of a screening of Superhero Movie. The Weinsteins were handing out passes at the Barton Creek Square mall down here in Austin.

Let me just get right to it: I flat-out loved this movie. Funniest thing I’ve seen this year, maybe even this decade. It all starts with a nerdy but lovable high school student named Peter Porker (!). Peter is"

And that’s as far as I got.

However, I did get ahead of the curve on another future hit …

Movie Spoilers: TV Movie!

Now as far as I know, TV Movie hasn’t yet been shot, scripted, or even conceptualized, but we all know it soon will be. We all know it.

urkel says I love cheese – big cheese falls on him and he starts eating it – a giant rat comes over and tackles him – carl eats donuts and farts

gary coleman says what you talking about willis? willis says what you talking about gary? mini me comes out, punches both in the nuts and says yeah baby – mr. drummond farts

the fonz waterskis – goes off a jump and into jaws’ mouth – shark says ay!

michelangelo ninja turtle pops head of toilet – little white boy poops on head and flushes – mike yells cowabunga as he spins down drain

Super simple stream of consciousness fun. Give it a shot — 83 horrible minutes aren’t going to write themselves!

Microsoft has launched a new campaign for its i’m™ Initiative called the i’m Talkathon in which "guy with a computer and good intentions" Parker Whittle blogs about the program for 30 days straight. It turns out 30 days of 24/7 chatting produces more content than one site can handle so Parker is guest blogging Day 8 right here on Catsandbeer.com!

Holla!

june 30, 2008 04:25 AM

Hey guys, Parker here and forgive the post title but I just always wanted to write that ;P

Man, I gotta tell you, instant messaging with people all around the world using Windows Live Messenger and Windows Live Hotmail and chatting about the i’m™ Initiative which is a Microsoft program that gives to a social cause every time you use Windows Live Messenger or Windows Live Hotmail sure is tiring. I’m starting to wish one of the organizations from a list of 10 important social causes with which Microsoft shares a portion of the program’s advertising revenue were the PWCTSF … aka the Parker Whittle Carpal Tunnel Syndrome Fund! (just kidding lol!)

Speaking of cash money, have you met Trevor, my CPA?

Trevor is an upbeat guy looking for an upbeat gal. He’s also Brian Huskey, the character actor from those Sonic drive-through commercials and one of the Get a Mac ads.

I know, weird, right?

You may also have met my roommate, Danny Passman.

Danny’s not just a card, he’s the whole deck! He’s a full-time "method screenwriter," (whatever that is lol!) and part-time telephone sales representative for The Sunset Villas, a managed care community near Roswell, NM.

But to really get to know Danny you gotta see him in action. Here’s a clip I shot that was shot at my apartment during the i’mtalkathon of Dan the Man carrying on like only he can! (it’s kinda long but u can skip the first 40 seconds lol!)

What a fat piece of shit.

Well, I guess I should get back to my instant messaging about the Microsoft i’m™ Initiative using Windows Live Hotmail and Windows Live Messenger. In case you’re not aware, I’m trying to rebalance my karma in the world and raise serious coin for some causes I really care about. And you can help — here’s how:

You can check out my profile on popular Web 2.0 social networking services like Flickr, Twitter, LinkedIn, YouTube, MySpace, and Facebook:

   
        

You can you show your support for the i’m Talkathon by downloading a badge drawn by either my little sister or a special needs student that can be used on your web page, your own blog, or e-mail signature:

You can follow the progress of my talkathon and the intriguing, ever deepening saga of my mysterious connection to the shadowy Contropic corporation at http://imtalkathon.com.

You can (and should!) use Windows Live Messenger or Windows Live Hotmail to share a portion of the program’s advertising revenue with an organization of your choice from a selection of some of the world’s most effective organizations dedicated to social causes.

But most of all, you can email me, Parker Whittle, pictures of little boys’ dicks.

That’s right, dicks. String beans or mini-sausages, I really don’t care, just keep ‘em hairless and the younger the better. I don’t know how, but I’m only a week into this talkathon and the emailing and chatting and "IMing" day and night has shattered all the fucking goodness of my being and turned me into a raging pedophile of the lowest and basest order. I swear to God I’ve fucking snapped and now all I want is prepubescent cock!

I FUCKING NEED IT. Send me pix, send me videos, shit, if you (somehow) see me online initiate a webcam chat and let’s try it that way — this Microsoft Windows Live Hotmail and Windows Live Messenger shit is so high tech there’s gotta be a way to get a live feed for cybering kiddies.

So yeah, feel free to email me at im_parker@hotmail.com but if you don’t include sexy shots of baby balls then fucking forget it pal, Susan G. Komen For The Cure Breast Cancer Foundation be damned!

This Microsoft i’m™ Initiative Talkathon has infected my brain with the most despicable brand of sickness AND I FUCKING LOVE IT.

Blog ya later!

Parker

tags: LoL!, boyz, Da P-Whit, ninja wizard, robotic owl

comments lol!

If you’re reading this and your BS detector is chirping like a smoke detector with a dicey 9-volt then get that shit fixed! This blog is completely real — Parker is REAL, his blogging is REAL, and sadly his burgeoning lust for preposterously young boys is realer than all that other stuff put together.

As the first installment in a series we’re certain to forget about, C&B.com is excited to present an interview with a currently relevant flash in the pan. Today, we talk to the guy from the latest oversaturated Burger King ad. In the 30-second advertisement, our interviewee attracts a gaggle of comely young ladies with his miniature burgers. Watch the sparks fly as this guy dishes all the dirt on Burger King, subprime mortgages and making commercials!

Catsandbeer.com: In doing my research for this interview, I could find no mention of so called “BK Burger Shots” on the Burger King website or YouTube. Now, I’m inclined to speculate that this commercial is some kind of test marketing for the Denver area in advance of a wider rollout. What concerns me is that if I do go ahead with trying said Burger Shots, and like them, I will subsequently find out….sorry, that’s a typo….I will subsequently find myself outside the Denver metropolitan area with the desire to eat some Burger Shots and will be unable to do so. That’s a long sentence. I should probably edit that for clarity. Anway, it’s kind of a tease. I mean, six hours of driving gets me to Kansas City or Albuquerque or damn close to Salt Lake City so it’s not like it’s unrealistic to find myself elsewhere craving a Burger Shot. So I have to ask myself, “What’s the point of test-marketing if you’re just going to anger people?” I don’t know, what do you think?

BK Guy: I don’t know. They didn’t tell us much at the commercial.

C&B.C: Successful commercial actors often go on to bigger things. I’m having trouble coming up with any specific examples right now. I guess there was that funny looking guy who played the murderer in Pauly Shore’s Jury Duty…Is that what it was called? I’m too embarrassed to IMDB it because I’m certain that those kinds of things get recorded by the FBI and I’d rather have people think I look for awful porn than Pauly Shore movies…Okay, so the dude who was in Jury Duty I think went on to do those Aaron Burr peanut butter commercials. That’s actually the opposite of what I was talking about. Oh, there was the guy who does all those Washington Mutual free checking commercials who was on 2 or 3 episodes of The Office when Jim left Scranton. Is Washington Mutual just a Colorado thing? Do you know the guy I’m talking about?

BKG: I don’t know.

C&B.C: Yeah, I think WaMu may be in big trouble anyhow because of the whole subprime mortgage thing so we might not be seeing much of that guy in the future. By the way, do you have any subprime loans?

BKG: No.

C&B.C: Anyway, the WaMu guy kinda looked like the guy who played Jimmy Trivette on Walker, Texas Ranger. Fun show but I’m not gonna jump on the whole Chuck Norris bandwagon three years too late….[45 second pause]… Unless the whole retro fad is now zipping through in 3-year cycles. But no - no more Chuck Norris. Jimmy Trivette, that’s a terrible name for a black character. I mean, by and large, black surnames tell the tale of whom the person’s paternal ancestor’s master was. So I’m supposed to believe that Jimmy’s great, great, great, great grandpa was owned by a Frenchman? Come on, there weren’t any French slaveowners in the South. Actually maybe Louisiana. Do you think Jimmy was Cajun? Wait, Cajun or Creole? One is a language. Full disclosure, I’m an engineer not a historian. But yeah, do you think Jimmy Trivette was from Louisiana originally?

BKG: Maybe. I don’t know.

C&B.C: Let’s see….So you did a commercial for some burgers that are basically miniature versions of full-sized Burger King products, exemplas gratis….”e”, “g”…I’m doing the finger quotes thing….Oh, I should probably tell our readers that this is a phone interview so you and they can’t see but I’m really doing the finger quotes thing…but they’re like mini Whoppers – the burger not the malted candy. Now, Burger King isn’t the first to try miniature burgers. For example, here in Colorado, Good Times has been selling their Bambino Burgers for like a year now and I think they actually started making Bambino chicken sandwiches. Now, I swear I’m not making this up but it looks like on the commercials they put pickles on the chicken Bambino. I mean, am I crazy or is that just disgusting?

BKG: I don’t know. I’d probably try one.

C&B.C: Well, in full disclosure I don’t eat pickles to begin with but I’ve just never seen pickles and chicken paired together anywhere. And especially since it’s a fried chicken thing, you know that the breading is getting all soggy with pickle juice. And me – I love me some Good Times every now and again, but I don’t want to be the dude who’s asking for his Bambino with no pickles because you know they’re just replacing them with spit and I swear every employee in that place always has a cold sore. I usually just go up the block to the Wahoo Fish Tacos because the teenagers that work there are always too stoned to care whether my order is too fussy. True story – my old roommate used to eat at the Good Times on Union so much that the manager knew him by name. Isn’t that funny?

BKG: Yeah.

C&B.C: Okay, I’m really trying here but you’re giving me nothing. Hey, here’s a friendly showbiz tip: when somebody is offering you some free “pub”, finger quotes, don’t shit all over their head and act like you’re too cool for the room. I mean, maybe that would work for a Tom Berenger type but you – you ain’t no Tom Berenger. You aren’t even a Richard Crenna, not to be confused with Richard Jeni. You know, you make some fucking Burger King commercial that makes you out to be a dipshit to begin with that has to use miniature hamburgers to score chicks and now you’re acting like this website is beneath you or some shit. Seriously, what other website is knocking down your door for an interview? No one. Period. End of story. Bar none. May he rest in peace when he does die which I hope is never. So fuck off dude. Seriously. You know what, Everybody Loves Raymond is on now. I think I’ll start working on my fully annotated episode guide for Raymond because that’s better and more useful than this interview. Bye! We’ll miss you!

BKG: Uh-huh.

C&B.C: Fuck you. Bye! Bye! So long….dick. [Hangs up phone]. Bleehhhh. All the pizza in Denver is crap. Well, that concludes our first Catsandbeer.com interview. Toodles!