Category Archives: Parody

Top Ten Signs Christian Bale Is Your Valentine

Often times a parody is lost in translation if you don’t know the source of what is being parodied.

Such was the case when I was watching “The Colbert Report” and Steven Colbert went ballistic on Steve Martin, dropping f-bombs on the seasoned comedian for walking across the set.

Stephen Colbert Goes Christian Bale on Steve Martin (click here to see video)

What I didn’t know is that this was a parody of a recent on-the-set tirade by the Dark Knight Christian Bale, who unleashed his sexually-repressed Bruce Wayne alter-ego on an unsuspecting photographer who broke his Zen-like acting concentration.

Christian Bale Explodes on Set (audio version)

The sign of a good parody is when it can stand alone and is funny without depending on the original source for comedic effect. The Colbert bit was funny, but after I did my homework, the bit was even more funny. Clearly it’s time to schedule another dentist appointment, so I can get caught up on the last six months of “People Magazine” gossip.

In the meantime, Bale’s tantrum has gone virtual, landing on David Letterman’s Online Top Ten Contest this week. Had I known my obsession with trying to win the holy “Late Show Online” t-shirt would involve Christian Bale, I would have chosen another obsession — say chasing parked dreams.

For those of you who are counting (thanks mom and Irene), here’s the latest tally for my quest against the Artificial-Intelligence computerized intern over at CBS:

H.A.L 9000: 4 T.M. Lindsey 6800: Zero

Last week’s failed bid for the topic, “Top Ten Signs You Won’t Be Winning a Grammy Award,” was “Grammy Foundation discovered you owe $127 in back taxes.” Speaking of the Grammys, I watched them up until my ears began bleeding, literally, during the Jonas Brothers and Stevie Wonder hook up. Shame on you Grammys; you should know better than taking advantage of a blind man.

Just think, with your help, all of this could be mine

Just think, with your help, all of this could be mine

At the threat of sounding like a broken record (or cliché for that matter), I will continue my quest to win the Holy Late Show Online t-shirt, but again, I cannot do this alone— so I’m soliciting your help, dear reader. I’ve written ten possible entries for this week’s list, and it’s up to you to help me choose the ONE from the list (for I can only submit one) that you think has the best chance of winning this week’s contest.

This week’s list:  Top Ten Signs Christian Bale Is Your Valentine

10. Two of you met at anger management retreat in Gotham

9. His term of endearment for you is Poopsie Woopsie F*ckface

8. The Joker forbade your love

7. Recently hired as Bale’s star-crossed cameraman

6. He asked you out on blind date to “My Bloody Valentine”

5. Your love for Bale parodied on “The Colbert Report”

4. He sent you box of heart-shaped “Be My Verbal Whipping Bi-atch” candies

3. Co-starring with Bale in Albee adaptation: “Who’s Afraid of Christian Bale?”

2. Showed affections for you by tearing down streetlights in front of your house

1. D: It is written

Don’t forget to let me know (in the Comments) which ONE of these I should submit.


The Stimulus-Plan Dating Game: How Big is Your Package?

This week “The Stimulus Plan Dating Game” hits the Senate floor for another rousing round of monetary courtship between We the Taxpayers and our three contestants, who are vying to lay claim to the Taxpayer’s Mega- Jackpot.

Before we begin, let’s meet our three contestants:

Contestant No. 1: Like most American Taxpayers, Contestant No. 1 started his illustrious career with good intentions, lobbying on behalf of responsible corporations in D.C while simultaneously moonlighting as an ACLU lawyer. Once swallowed by the D.C. political culture, Contestant No. 1 had no chance of escaping the abyss of greed, unless he was vomited from the underbelly of Greed’s stomach – which coincidentally brings Contestant No. 1 here today.


Contestant No. 2: Discovered burning a hole in a pocketbook near you, our second contestant takes pride in his elasticity skills and ability to help Americans slide headfirst into Bankruptcy.


Contestant No. 3: Although unborn, our final contestant has a great deal at stake here today, since the ultimate burden of this week’s Mega-Jackpot will fall on his or her shoulders. Due to communication issues, Contestant No. 3’s responses have been recorded by an ultrasound machine, which translates the sonic airwaves into English.

Without further adieu, let’s begin our first round of The Stimulus-Plan Dating Game:

We the Taxpayers: Contestant No. 1, if you were an economic stimulus plan, describe to me what our first date would look like.

Contestant No. 1: First, I would pick you up in our company’s private jet, hybrid of course, and fly you to an undisclosed location in the Cayman Islands, where I would wine and dine you with the best that American money can buy. After dinner, we would enjoy side-by-side Swedish Massages, during which you would tell me about all the dream legislation you would like to see Congress enact – with your name on it, of course. Exhausted from looking so deeply into your eyes and pretending to care, we would head back to our own rental island for a nightcap and romantic evening as I try to lobby you into bed.

We the Taxpayers: Wow, Contestant No. 1, you really know how to treat a Taxpayer. So I take it we’ll be going Dutch? (laughs at own joke as audience joins in, laughing at own expense) The same question goes to you Contestant No. 2.

Contestant No. 2: Let’s just say if you choose me, the sky’s the limit with your credit line. And no more annoying late fees, if you know what I mean (winks at audience, which takes cue and laughs). As if you had rubbed a bottle and wished for me to come out and sweep you off your feet, I will slide into your life and pick you up for a magic credit card ride. Unlike Contestant No. 1, I will let you decide where our magic credit card takes us. With me, you can charge your dreams and watch all your worries slip into the next Congressional Bailout.

We the Taxpayers: Sounds great, but unfortunately I am afraid of heights — (pauses for comedic effect) — high Annual Percentage Rates that is (laughs at own joke as audience joins in). Contestant No. 3, since you haven’t been born yet and the thought of talking to an incubator over dinner and conversation sounds a little embarrassing, I will ask you a different question. If my eyes were matching crystal balls and you looked into them, what type of future do you see for us in, say 40 years?

Contestant No. 3: (through translator) I see China. Everyone on earth speaks freakin’ Chinese, including you and me and this ultrasound Speak-Easy you sick bastards have jammed down my throat. I hope I’m never born, and if I am, I swear to God I will be a Libertarian.

We the Taxpayers: Wow, so young, yet so cynical Contestant No. 3. I think somebody needs an infusion of Hope (laughs at attempt to make joke).

Thus ends the first round of The Stimulus Plan Dating Game. Tune in for the next round to see who indeed has the biggest package? (laugh track here)

This Commercial Won’t Be Televised During Super Bowl XLIII

If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone say, “I only watch the Super Bowl for the commercials,” I could, well, buy my own $3 million 30-second spot during this year’s Super Bowl in Tampa Bay.

My usual response to these unsolicited declarations is: “I can totally relate. I only go to museums for the popcorn.” This emits a look of confusion on the receiving end as if they’re wondering if they had dialed the wrong number when calling someone who cares. Better yet, they are trying to remember the last time they went to the museum, and if they sold popcorn to the audience at the time.

But ultimately, my non-sequitur response serves as an effective conversation-stopper, damning up the deluge of past Super Bowl commercial memories waiting to drown me out by the water cooler at work.

What I really want to ask these commercial aficionados is “Is there really such thing as a good commercial? Or is ‘good commercial’ an oxymoron?” Then I would have to explain oxymoron, something they used to know the meaning of before they picked up an addiction to commercials on the airwaves.

A lot of these people aren’t aware they have C.A. (Commercial Addiction) because they are living in denial or have subconsciously masked their feelings by purchasing Tivo.

That’s why if I could turn my aforementioned hypothesis into reality, I would purchase a 30-second slot during tonight’s Super Bowl and run the following Public Service Announcement:





This is your brain on SAY SOMETHING FUNNY:



This Public Sevice Announcement was sponsored by Say Something Funny and was produced with no overhead costs. No brain cells were damaged, zombified or killed in the making of this post.

Satirists Mourn Loss of Bush

"Speak, George, speak!"

The Satirists' battlecry for the past eight years: "Speak, George, speak!"

While Tuesday’s changing-of-the-presidential guard was billed as a day of Hope for most people, there was a melancholic ripple in the satiric force. Satirists, who could always depend on the former President George W. Bush to feed their muse in times of desperation, had their satiric crutches pulled out from beneath them with Bush’ stage-left exit.

"What now, George?"

George W. Bush, disguised in an Osama-like beard, could not allude a pack of wild satirists on his trip to Texas,where he plans to hibernate indefinately. Bush eventually turned on the mob and told them he was done and they repsonded dumbfoundedly: "What now, George?"


President George W. Bush: 2001 – 2009

“That’s all I have to say about that.”

SPAM Prevention 101: If you can read or eat this, you are obviously drunk

Whether it’s consciously eating a can o’ SPAM or trying to decipher the hieroglyphics posing as electronic-spam prevention codes, you have to be drunk to successfully complete either task.

Rarely do I enter the correct anti-spam code on the first time. Whether the letters or letter-number combos are blurred, Siamese letters that share the same backbone, or have random tails or kerchiefs scripted on them, I’m convinced you have to be under the influence of alcohol to actually read them.

When cracked under the influence of whiskey, this code actually says "SATAN'S REVENGE"

When cracked under the influence of whiskey, this code actually says "SATAN'S REVENGE"

Consequently, I keep a full supply of whiskey nearby in case I cannot crack the code.

(Note: This entire post was composed under the influence of alcohol and a moderate serving of SPAM.)

Just say "NO" to SPAM and booze! (official slogan of M.A.D.S. -- Mothers Against Drunk SPAMmers)

Just say "NO" to SPAM and booze! (official slogan of M.A.D.S. -- Mothers Against Drunk SPAMmers)

Speaking of which, had I read the Surgeon General’s Warning printed in .2 font on the bottom of the can, I would have known better than mixing booze and SPAM together.

Surgeon General’s Warning: SPAM contains a number of unidentifiable chemicals and is a gateway artificial meat that leads to the consumption of bigger, more dangerous artificial meats. Pregnant women caving to SPAM cravings during the third trimester may give birth to a seven-pound Golden Honey Grail SPAM. Overconsumption or habitual abuse of SPAM may result in abuser to indulge in writing SPAM Haikus.

Fortunately, I’m not pregnant and only ate seven cans of SPAM.

The writing of this post was interrupted by an impulse to write SPAM Haikus:

Inbred pork and ham.
Fluids copulate, ferment
Together, forever.

The forbidden meat.
Who opened Spamdora’s Box?
Hope drowned in SPAM juice.

Now where was I…?

Post Epilogue: SPAM and electronic-spamming share more than the recipient’s dependency on alcohol. The term “spamming” derived its name from a Monty Python Flying Circus comedy sketch on SPAM, which targeted the Brit’s World War II cuisine. For whatever reason SPAM flew under the RAF’s radar for rationed meats, probably because it’s not meat.

Monty Python’s Flying Circus: “SPAM”

In the marketing spirit of “there is no such advertising as bad advertising,” Hormel, the fine makers of SPAM not only refused to have their marriage to lower-caps spam annulled but have actually embraced it as well with the Spamalot Musical and SPAMALOT game.