So we saw this on TV the other week. I don't normally watch SNL, but after they did the Sarah Palin skits I started just checking in.
It was a re-run of a Ben Affleck hosted episode. Now, I have come to call Ben Affleck what Thomas Sowell calls him: Ben Afflicted, or what I call him Ben Can't-Act-fleck. I think he is a horrible actor, and I couldn't tell you why. Unlike his buddy Matt, I just don't believe him. But I think that you will all come to agree with me that the following parody is brilliant and brilliantly performed. Well worth watching over and over and over. Perhaps sketch comedy is where his true talent lies.
That, and I love it when the left lampoons itself, when someone has become so obnoxious that even his cohorts can't help but ridicule him.
Enjoy
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
New Years Resolution
2008, which was over just as quickly as it began, went out with a whimper, like every other year since Sep. 11, 2001. Thank God.
Why did I say that?
Because I haven't forgotten the day that 3000 Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, Grandparents, and Cousins, got brutally blown into the next life by the Religion of Peace.
Every New Years since, I hold my breath as the hours and minutes tick down.
It's not like when I was a kid and would spend the night at my buddy Dan's. His parents always had way cool New Years Eve Parties. All those parents and kids filling up the house with warm conversation. The Mike Tyson's Knock Out tourneys with all the kids; the monster game of hide and seek outside. And staying up past midnight, AND the parents knew and were not only cool about it, but encouraging it! *Gasp!*.
You know that feeling you get when you've just had the best day ever? All full and warm and fuzzy inside? That's what the memory's like for me.
But now, that I'm verging on 1850's middle age-edness, I hold my breath and pray. 1 million merry makers revelling in the new year: a terrorist's supreme fantasy. Don't get the wrong impression, I'm not on my knees interceding for humanity and this country, though I should be. But I'm just observing, asking God for his mercy.
Thank God for our President, who is willing to be the butt of the entire worlds jokes if it means he saves one innocent life. American or otherwise.
Thank God for our Volunteer Warriors who lay their lives on the line everyday, not because they are ordered to, but because if they lose their life saving one innocent life, it was worth it.
IF you ever need some perspective on this world that we live in, read the stories about the Medal of Honor recipients coming out of Iraq and Afghanistan. I'm a grown man and I get choked up when I hear about men falling on grenades to protect their comrades; women, who should not be in combat, going into hot zones to take medicine, school supplies, and candy to children who have never seen medicine, school supplies, or candy. You should look into the Lionesses.
But we had Captain I Know and his first mate the expectant Mail Order Bride over last night. I bought scrabble earlier in the fall. I remember my mom playing it when I was a child, and decided that I wanted it too. It's been great! We've had more people over in the last month than in the last 8 years. Scrabble is a great ice breaking attractant. And if you have a sense of humor, it makes for a blast. Especially when your wife and your best friend are actively, openly engaged in Scrabble War. Doggedly determined to get the highest score. And me? I didn't even break fifty points, after penalties, on the second round. (I had lousy tiles! And I was first, which we all know, The First Shall Be Last.) But it is kinda sad when the non-native English speaking player beats you. Thems the breaks.
They left about 1: or so; me popping up every now and then the whole night to check in on Fox News, just to make sure that nothing had happened. Nothing happened. Belle went to bed about 1:30 almost 2: Bizarrely abnormal for her. She's normally narcoleptic after 8, but she drank some coffee at 9, that and the sweet thrill of victorious scrabble combat was still coursing through her veins.
I went to bed a little later, okay, a lot later. Late enough to be early enough for Shorty to get up and ask for a pre-breakfast snack. She had cold meatloaf by computer monitor light. I thought it was an hour earlier than it really was.
So, I helped Shorty finish her snack, hey, I was hungry too, and then as I was on my way to bed, I thought of some new years resolutions:
I resolve to:
Eat More Peanuts
Eat More Li'l Porgey's
Eat More . . . wait, I wonder if I was hungry
Why did I say that?
Because I haven't forgotten the day that 3000 Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, Sisters, Grandparents, and Cousins, got brutally blown into the next life by the Religion of Peace.
Every New Years since, I hold my breath as the hours and minutes tick down.
It's not like when I was a kid and would spend the night at my buddy Dan's. His parents always had way cool New Years Eve Parties. All those parents and kids filling up the house with warm conversation. The Mike Tyson's Knock Out tourneys with all the kids; the monster game of hide and seek outside. And staying up past midnight, AND the parents knew and were not only cool about it, but encouraging it! *Gasp!*.
You know that feeling you get when you've just had the best day ever? All full and warm and fuzzy inside? That's what the memory's like for me.
But now, that I'm verging on 1850's middle age-edness, I hold my breath and pray. 1 million merry makers revelling in the new year: a terrorist's supreme fantasy. Don't get the wrong impression, I'm not on my knees interceding for humanity and this country, though I should be. But I'm just observing, asking God for his mercy.
Thank God for our President, who is willing to be the butt of the entire worlds jokes if it means he saves one innocent life. American or otherwise.
Thank God for our Volunteer Warriors who lay their lives on the line everyday, not because they are ordered to, but because if they lose their life saving one innocent life, it was worth it.
IF you ever need some perspective on this world that we live in, read the stories about the Medal of Honor recipients coming out of Iraq and Afghanistan. I'm a grown man and I get choked up when I hear about men falling on grenades to protect their comrades; women, who should not be in combat, going into hot zones to take medicine, school supplies, and candy to children who have never seen medicine, school supplies, or candy. You should look into the Lionesses.
But we had Captain I Know and his first mate the expectant Mail Order Bride over last night. I bought scrabble earlier in the fall. I remember my mom playing it when I was a child, and decided that I wanted it too. It's been great! We've had more people over in the last month than in the last 8 years. Scrabble is a great ice breaking attractant. And if you have a sense of humor, it makes for a blast. Especially when your wife and your best friend are actively, openly engaged in Scrabble War. Doggedly determined to get the highest score. And me? I didn't even break fifty points, after penalties, on the second round. (I had lousy tiles! And I was first, which we all know, The First Shall Be Last.) But it is kinda sad when the non-native English speaking player beats you. Thems the breaks.
They left about 1: or so; me popping up every now and then the whole night to check in on Fox News, just to make sure that nothing had happened. Nothing happened. Belle went to bed about 1:30 almost 2: Bizarrely abnormal for her. She's normally narcoleptic after 8, but she drank some coffee at 9, that and the sweet thrill of victorious scrabble combat was still coursing through her veins.
I went to bed a little later, okay, a lot later. Late enough to be early enough for Shorty to get up and ask for a pre-breakfast snack. She had cold meatloaf by computer monitor light. I thought it was an hour earlier than it really was.
So, I helped Shorty finish her snack, hey, I was hungry too, and then as I was on my way to bed, I thought of some new years resolutions:
I resolve to:
Eat More Peanuts
Eat More Li'l Porgey's
Eat More . . . wait, I wonder if I was hungry
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