Catsandbeer.com

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!