I can't believe the news today - part 2

The second story from yesterday's newspaper that grabbed me was about how many horror stories of the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina appear to be complete fabrications. I'm sure there were car jackings, and shootings, and rapes but the actual amount of these sordid incidents seems to have been greatly magnified by the amount of talking that has been done about it.

Rumor spread to journalists, who reported it to their bosses, who printed it, and the whole world treated it as absolute truth. Let's not let a little thing like fact checking get in the way of a good blown out of proportion story. This reminds me of how Dan Rather cried on air recently about the climate of fear that was caused by the new media, essentially because due to the 24 hour news stations now it was hard to get away with as much stuff as had been before.

But now we see that it's still easy to get crap out there and get people talking about it.

But where did this hyperbole come from originally?

My theory is that came originally from the poor black people who have no food and no water and whose twinkies are being stolen. I bet the refugess thought if they approached a newsman, and made up a story, they would get more attention and food, and a better place to stay. I bet a lot of them thought that, and groupthink went wild.

I'm basing this on my first hand accounts of how poor black people lie to the white man to get what they want. I'm astounded by the lack of ethics displayed by poor black people on a near daily basis. They will literally lie, cheat, and steal to get ahead by any means possible.

I remember picking up a poor black woman in Norfolk one time who said she only wanted a ride to her neighborhood and didn't want any money. I told her I was going home on the highway and I could drop her off on the side of the road and I definitely wasn't giving her any money. At the time of our drop off, she started hassling me for money, and begging me to drop her off at her doorstep. I told her to get lost.

Dan Rather thought a climate of fear was having 24 hour news reporting? Try having 20 poor black people stand outside your door at night for no apparent reason.

I can't believe the news today - part 1

Actually this post is really about the news from yesterday but I don't get the newspaper every day. I had to pay for this one. I forgot how crappy our local paper and in fact newspapers in general normally are. Let me give you the quick rundown on what's up in your world yesterday before I mow the lawn and go watch Last House on the Left at my cousin's house.

Story 1) Anna Nicole Smith's never ending fight to get the money from the now dead guy that she married who was like 100 at the time.



- Our newspaper, the Daily Press, has sunk to a new low and is publishing this kind of gossip column Hard Copy kind of crap which is the newspaper equivalent of a "where are they now?" piece on the FRONT PAGE. Basically, I think everyone entirely forgot about this story and it has no meaning at all or relevance to anyone that a rich fake boobed ho is a gold digger. This has an almost literal meaning now since the guy in question has been dead for years. She would have to dig him up to get the gold. .....Seriously, he looked like a mole when he was still alive there is a 0.001 percent chance that Miss Smith would have been attracted to him at the time. Maybe she's a big fan of 2 inch long nose hairs, debilitating breath, an evil grin, and 95 year old bald men in wheelchairs. Who knows maybe that's her thing.

I'd like to relate this piece to something I heard while standing at the door of Water's Edge church this week.

girl a)did you hear that? he asked me out!

girl b)what did you say?

girl a) I was so embarrassed. I told him I was in a relationship.

This occurred before church. Now listen to the same girls after church.

girl b)I found out that guy owns a health food store and a gym and he's vacationing in Australia today.

girl a)Well geez, why didn't he say that? That would have totally changed things. Hi, I own a health food store, and a gym would you like to go to lunch with me?

To sum up, I would like to remind you all of what Wanda Sykes said after watching the first episode of the Bachelor "Bitches love money."

Public Announcement

There was a tremendous outcry recently regarding my 2 posts which many people would rightly call a "breakdown" of sorts. I need to address that it is sometimes hard to maintain a public and private persona at the same time. I guess I just wasnt used to the challenge of sudden fame and succumbed to it early. I need to remember that this is a business that I am in and act accordingly.

Just like Best Friend told me, if you only can post something once a week. Do it. Leave people wanting more instead of having them get sick of you.

I think that's a great motto.

And one that I intend to live by.

I spent the time away from the blog not moping, as it would seem from reading, but living out some great material. That's right I've got several great stories to put up on the blog in the next day or 2. So new and old fans alike I just want to let you know that this is the perfect time to jump on the bandwagon of the future superstar.

And just in case you forgot how hot I was, I'm putting up this picture of me eating ice cream.

I don't know what people want anymore

Do I talk about my everyday observations? I just notice things that are out of the ordinary. I notice fat people. I notice people with green hair. I notice cracks in ceilings. I notice a shoe left alone without a twin brother on the sidewalk. I notice Wawa clerks giving intelligent and sassy answers to customers who are brusque and impatient. I notice white people looking tough and listening to rap music. I notice old people sitting by themselves, not talking and wearing glasses. But yet somehow when I notice fat people it's considered mean.

Forget it

I feel trapped by the people who want something new every day and the people who want something funny all the time. I feel like I can't just write about what I saw that day or what I felt. It's like everything has to be a new high all the time. I'm in a perpetual daze for most of the day. I'm tired right now and I can't focus. I've been spending time on looking for ways to make money on Ebay for the last hour. So far, Ebay 1, me 0.

It's sometimes hard because I feel like I can't write about people I know, since people I know read this blog and then they would tell me "what did you say that for?" and then they would harbor secret resentments against me and then they would tell me one day while in line at Blockbuster Video. Unfortunately, people I know is like all I know right now.

sigh. buries head in keyboard.

I was reading an Actor's Guide to Making it New York City in bed before I fell asleep last night. Is that funny? I'm thinking about how much everything costs up there and worrying that I won't get any meaningful acting jobs and I'll just leverage more debt on my credit cards and be a collossal failure and not want to go on anymore.

I'm wondering if I should pay 500 bucks for an image consultant when I'm there.

Maybe I should try eharmony in New York, there's like millions of people there.

I really like cheese. If I had enough money I would buy a cheese factory. Then I would sell this cheese to the homeless people and solve the hunger problem in America. Then as president I would continue to try to please everyone instead of actually solving anything.

How to Make Conversation

A lot of people are shy and confused at how exactly it is that they are supposed to go around and talk to people. Many of them are scared and think, "What if no one wants to talk to me?" This will probably be true if you don't use deodorant or wear matched clothes. It also helps if you spend your time on something more interesting than rock collecting.

You talk about what you know, so if all you know is rock collecting people will be desparate to get away from you. What you need to do is invest your time in more interesting leisure pursuits, because trust me, no one wants to hear about what you do for a living.

For instance, right now I'm doing power lunges, taking fencing classes, and studying tai-chi. Now I have the confidence to bust into any casual conversation and hijack it, forcing weak girly men to flee in my presence when I say, "Yep, I just busted out like 200 lunges this morning and I scored like 8 points in a row in fencing."

Anyone who is not afraid of you will absorb this information like a sponge, and next time they see you they will ask, "How'z that power lunging and fencing going." To which you will respond that it is better than ever, and you forgot to tell them that you are also taking Tai-Chi classes and it has enriched your life now and you have like five hot girls talking to you at the same time and you have to tell them to wait their turn to get near the hotness.

The hotness does not come with a money back guarantee, nor is it waranteed against any undue or unwarranted attacks. It does however, come in handy when you are the last man on earth.

More Craziness

Oh man, I had this great post planned and it was gonna be like the funniest thing ever. You guys would have been like rolling on the floor and rofling all over the place. Sadly I'm yawning and I have salt water in my ear.

You guys don't understand how that messes up my sensitive chemical balance that is required to write anything of any emotional depth or gravitas, as opposed to the straightforward progression of words that are appearing before you right now.

I think anything that I drink right now would make me pee.

This is the greatest story ever told

Airliner Fakes Emergency so passengers can watch Soccer Game was a headline the other day on CNN.com. I read CNN.com religiously every day just so I can be on top of things that are important and so I can nod knowingly when you relate some breaking story to me thinking that I may not have heard about it. It's not true. I have heard about it. The funny part is, I'm relating this story to you because I don't think that you have heard about it.

And if you have, how come you haven't told me about it?

Here's the rundown as we know it:

A jet carrying 289 Gambian soccer fans and which happened to be chartered by Gambian Presidente Yahya Jammeh pretended it was low on fuel just so they could watch a Gambia verus Peru Fifa World Cup under 17 match. They made an emergency landing and watched the game in person.

I never cease to be amazed about the passion for "football" by crazed and insane fans around the world who will routinely bite someone's ear for insulting their local team, which is apparently held in higher esteem than their own mothers. Footballer fans will often riot if they disagree with a ref's call in a game, but I never imagined that they would essentially hijack a plane under false pretenses just to watch a soccer game or two.

This is definitely going in my new Idiot's Guide to Idiots.

Couldn't they have just tivoed it? Maybe they should have gotten the Dishnetwork soccer package for 89.95 which has access to all your favorite games. Save and record at the touch of a button! Only with Dishnetwork! and well...Tivo.

The strange part is that the greatest story ever really sounded nothing like this at all!

A picture of a doughnut

Here in graphically untouched form, is a picture of a doughnut. I thought that I would share that with you since I decided that I wanted one. And people seem to like pictures, so I'm really killing 2 doughnuts with one motsa ball.

More Proof that I'm Getting Younger

A lot of people have remarked that I'm not getting any younger. I do not feel that this is true. This is partly due to the fact that when I was a lot younger, I wasn't really young. People said I had an old soul. That's the kind of thing that you say to a kid who seems quiet and reflective. This is because old people don't do a lot of jumping around and quoting Dumb and Dumber and laughing a lot. They are very good at balancing their checkbooks, and complaining that their cancer is acting up.

Lately, I have rediscovered how to be young and dumb again, so it's really serving me in good stead as I move forward with being a world famous movie actor. Case in point: I was at the Wachovia parking lot making a deposit, and there was this high school kid with a jansport backup on with a cell phone in his ear. Naturally I deduced that he was wondering where the trash his mom was and how come she hadn't picked him up yet. So I said to him, "Your mom hasn't picked you up yet huh?" "Nope", came the reply. And then he asked me if I had graduated yet, thus conclusively proving that I am getting younger, and I can still audition for high school movie roles for a few more years yet.

How to Get People Mad at You

For starters, you could try being me for a day. It's not easy. Because I usually keep my opinions to myself, and I am perceived as being smart, I'm usually seen as snotty and arrogant. When I level my stunning insight on people after being a little "hot under the drainpipe" people gape wondering how I could have possibly just said that...."OH SHE IS NOT THAT FAT. JOSH YOU ARE WORSE THAN PRESIDENTE BUSH THE WORST WAR CRIMINAL OF OUR TIMES!"

I've noticed that people hate me indiscriminately for usually what I think is almost no reason at all. Most people who are around for me any length of time at all know that I love nothing better than filling up empty space in the air with the sound of my voice assuming there are other people around to hear it. My voice will usually be telling you something smart and funny that you were unable to think of yourself. That is what you invited me along for, so I can't help but feel flattered. Also, my voice will sometimes be making an incredibly insightful comment that I can't help but feel is entirely necessary to drop on the world. Almost everyone always loves these comments, because they add to the general feeling of well being that I help pervade in the world at large.

Despite all this, it has been discovered by myself very recently, even as far back as on Saturday that some people at Chanello's hate my guts, despite the fact that I consciously choose to say almost nothing there because I don't think the people working there for the most part would dig my jibe at all. I've been sort of low-keying it, just collecting my money and getting out of there. Unfortunately, I've had to engage in a little bit of the activity that is sure to arouse the ire of people with low intelligence and no humor glands - I've been talking.

I discovered this on Saturday when one of the managers with a potato shaped head and a perpetually drooping jowl said she needed to talk to me. She asked me what the deal was and I not being aware of any deals pending responded that I was completely unaware of the deal that was going down. The deal in fact, had me by the throat. She then asked me some questions, that if I related them to you the readers in a straightforward manner right now, they would make no sense unless I gave you the backstory. So instead of all that rigmarole, I've decided to just list the litany of my so-called offenses.

1)Some guy called on the telephone and said he had a coupon for some ridiculous price on pizza and chips that I'd never heard of. So I put Bruce the manager on the phone, who okayed it, and then I committed the cardinal sin of saying, "Really? We have that for that like 8 dollars?" Chanello's management is apparently paranoid about morale at the store due to the large turnover ratio and the fact that the place sucks. Bruce somehow thought I was questioning his management abilities in selling a product for that low, which means that I make slightly less money off it then I would for the already ridiculously cheap price. So despite the fact that I hardly talk at all while I'm there, they think I ask "too many questions."

2)Usually when an order comes in, I don't know how to get to the road that the customer lives on. This is due to the fact that even in a small area of a city there are like half a bazillion roads and nobody really knows where they all come from or why. One thing is certain, you can drive on them. That part I'm sure of. And also, there will be an annoying Chanello's driver that will try to give you directions to this road if he sees you so much as pick up a map that is sitting on the counter. This despite the fact that I like looking up the roads myself, because what usually happens is that the guy giving directions will invariably start on some road that I'm not familiar with and direct me to another road that I've never heard of. Now, since I don't know how to get to the first one, the odds of me getting to the second one are even worse. Since I already know that if I ask this guy how to get to the first road, I will be looked at as a nuisance for asking too many questions, I mask my general panic by giving him exactly what I know he wants to hear, a friendly pat on the back and a sincere word of thanks for changing my life for the better and teaching me how to fish instead of buying me that fish today for like a dollar. I could have spent like 30 bucks learning to fish, but he showed me for free!!!!
Unfortunately, the driver will see me looking up the place on the map that he just told me how to get to, and will think that I'm the biggest jerk in the world for completely ignoring what he just told me and trying to see it for myself. What the crap was I thinking? I'm such an idiot! Gosh.

3) For whatever reason, cheap pizza, cheap tippers, and hordes of ghetto apartment dwellers that would be blaming Bush right now if they had lived in New Orleans seem to go together. For that reason, a lot of my deliveries are made to apartments almost right behind the store. So when I saw that my next delivery at the time that I was reading the ticket while working in the store was for a location that actually required me to go to unknown vistas a few miles away, I remarked that it was kind of far. I forgot about the paranoia factor of ownership which would cause them to think that I was grousing about the fact that I had drive a long way to deliver that pizza, and that it wasn't worth my time. As a matter of fact, my complete thought was that this delivery was farther than going a few blocks behind the store, and so it is relatively farther than I normally go. I wasn't complaining. I could care less where I deliver to. I don't even count my money at the end of the night anymore. I just sort of assume that I'm leaving with more than I came in with

So there you have it. Proof that I'm worthless scum, and even the smallest of my utterances can land me in hot water up to my ankles. If it's this tough at Chanello's , how the heck am I going to hold a job in New York City?

Today's True and Exciting Story!

...But first a few brief commercial messages. It's messages like the ones following that allow this fine reading material that you have access to 24/7. Please feel free to make a donation through paypal to joshdudley@yahoo.com. Any donation is accepted, be it big or small. However, if you donate more than 20 dollars you get a free tote bag to put all the crap that you buy the rest of the week in. If you donate more than one hundred and fifty dollars, then you have purchased a personal appearance by Joshua Dudley who will appear for 2 hours whenever you like. An additional fee is required for any extraordinary services that may be asked during this 2 hours. The definition of the word "extraordinary" will be determined on site by Joshua Dudley within 10 to 30 seconds of receiving your request.

Original Nintendo System plus games for sale on Ebay

I have a rather large collection of quality NES games and a complete working system from 8 years ago when I wrote video game reviews for the website http://www.allgame.com. In lieu of moving to New York, I am frantically liquidating all my old junk for use in moving expenses. Please help the cause today by purchasing my old crap.

And now on with the new story that is destined to become an instant classic and be re-told and sold on dvd at Best Buy with additional director's commentary while I eat breakfast and discuss how things on the stock market are. Riveting stuff!

My good friend In Bed by 9 makes it a habit to not be available by normal use of the telephone. Originally the telephone was invented so that by use of numerical prompting you could reach another person who also had a telephone and talk to him on the phone. Thanks to great inventions by modern science, the all new Cellphone now allows you to see when people are calling, and ignore them while you are eating your new chicken fries from Burger King. Eventually, some people who have received calls decide to call back, but a great many calls are forgotten because they were terribly unimportant and the recipient has now moved on to tweazing his nose sairs and thinking about working out.

In this case, In Bed by 9 had made tentative plans to go to "Bay Days" with his
girlfriend Used to be Cool, and myself.

It should be noted that Bay Days is one of a great many annual events in the Hampton Roads area that center around selling hot dogs for five dollars, exceptionally long walks from where you have parked at, and old people selling crafts and staring at you blankly wondering why in the dickens you don't purchase their hand crafted wooden paddle duck.

I had been sitting around the house for about an hour, doing things that are relatively similar to what I'm doing right now when the phone call from In Bed by 9 came informing me that he was already on the way to Bay Days with Used to Be Cool in tow and that I should call Used to Be Cool's best friend En Route to Germany and pick her up because she doesn't want to ride by herself. Clearly I figured we were all going to ride together since it costs like 10 dollars to drive anywhere and back now but In Bed by 9 has a bad habit of ignoring important things like waiting for people or showing common courtesy and respect so I shouldn't have been surprised when I was given the shaft.

I'm always game for any situation that doesn't involve being held up at gunpoint by midgets with brownies so I met En Route to Germany at our friendly local Sonics which coincidentally has the best Corn Dogs in the world for only 99 cents. I found her parked in a giant Silver Ford truck and reading the Wall Street Journal happily to herself. I might have been better off If I had missed her or run out of gas on the side of the road somewhere, but then I wouldn't have this story to tell.

Our initial foray into my car resulted in forced conversation without many follow up questions. I learned that she
A)wanted to move to Luxembourg to work at a bank
B)enjoys reading the Wall Street Journal for fun and pretending like it is schoolwork.
C)is scared of the dark and going places by herself
D)is a business major
E)is easily embarassed

I put in a Moby cd "18" hoping to ease the mood, and she promptly told me that she had only heard Moby on the radio before so this was nice. It was also good for me, because it gave me the hint right away that she didn't care about music that much and would probably prefer needlepoint. I changed it to Jeff Buckley, and she had never heard of him either and was incapable of commenting on my story of how he drowned in the Mississippi River when he went for a swim. I told her he influenced all sorts of preening high voice acts of today like Muse. After she told me she had never heard of Muse either, she went out of her way to say that She hoped that I didn't think she was dumb because she had never heard of anyone who had ever made a record before. "That's silly", I told her, after all I only thought she was kind of boring at that point, not dumb.

We managed to park only like 15 blocks away from Bay Days underneath an overpass and had a long walk there talking about our surroundings such as the people walking by, how nice the weather was, and how big the houses were. Clearly if one were to find out anything about this girl they would have to use a crowbar to pry the information out of her.

We started to walk through the Bay Days rides area which consisted of your classic carny rides like the tilt-a-whirl, the Big slide, and the waste of time. After traveling a little ways we ran into a mass of people in front of a concert staging area. A guy started talking so I told her I wanted to wait and see who it was. The next thing I heard was a voice announcing, "Here he is folks, Rock and Roll of Fame living legend, Bo Diddly!"

"Seriously", I told her. "Let's check this guy out. I've heard he's okay." He was actually featured in my new free Rolling Stone magazine this month, complaining about how Elvis got rich off black people's music, which was funny because later in the concert he had a song honoring music legends, and Elvis was among them.

After wasting a lot of time trying to find my friends while standing in line for 20 minutes to buy a 5 dollar corn dog we were finally all assembled in the Bo Diddly concert. Everything was going great. I was enjoying the concert, my friends were being lovey dovey, and En Route to Germany had her arms crossed, always a good sign that you have no idea what to do with yourself, much less your arms. You could throw them up in the air and act like you just don't care, but the bottom line unfortunately is that you do care a little bit. Actually Miss Germany seemed to care a lot and it probably took 5 Rockin out songs to get her loosened up just a little bit. In fact there was this one song where Bo Diddly was reciting rock and roll legends where she actually talked to me during the show! She asked if I thought in the future someone like Blink 182 would make up a song and talk about rock legends from our time like No Doubt, Coldplay, U2, Nirvana, etc. I told her I wasn't sure about that. It seemed like the safest way to go since she was trying to be friendly.

Everything was going great until we ran into the incredible staring guy. We had managed to get seated on the lawn only about 25 feet from the stage when this 30 something dude with crazy eyes and a plaid shirt kept giving my group askance glances. We all tried to ignore it at first, but it just kept getting stranger and stranger. He would turn and not quite look me in the eye and I would have to move my face quickly to avoid any direct eye contact. Then it seemed like he was checking out Used to Be Cool. En Route to Germany freeked out and was moving behind all of us any time this guy would glance in her direction. I'm surprised she didn't scream, as skittish as she was and as wierd as the guy was. Finally in the coup de gras he turned his whole body and seemed to be eyeing me almost directly for a full minute. It was the most awkward thing of all time and we departed soon after, hoping the guy wasn't packing and that he wouldn't race ahead of us and show up in the back seat of our cars or anything. He really could have easily been a character from I Know What you Did Last Summer when you was Messing Around Girlfriend!

We walked our friends back to their car who said they would meet us at Cheddars. We would have liked to have done that, except they didn't give us a ride back to our car, even though they knew we were parked like a mile away. This meant that I now had to endure the long walk back with En Route to Germany with absolutely nothing to talk about now at all. Fortunately the silence was broken by some black kids who said something to her and she turned to me shocked and said, "They were making rude comments about my posterior!" Not knowing what to say I told her that I guessed that what was what they do. It turns out that I'm grateful that she didn't ask me if she has a big posterior, because then I would have had to lie and I hate that.

More silence followed, and as we were about halfway back she told me that I was kind of quiet. I told her that I had already asked her where she worked, came from, lived, went to school, and the usual and that If I did that again I would look dumb. Clinging desperately onto any bait she could find she told me to go ahead. So I asked her where she was going to school, and she laughed which again left me with nothing to say thereafter, except to occasionally comment on my surroundings.

Because we took so long getting back to my car, and driving through slow traffic, In Bed by 9 and Used to Be Cool were already on the way home. It's too bad, because I definately needed some help in cracking this case.

So it will have to be filed under unsolved mysteries.

Tune in next time when I say,"Look out below!"

New Post Coming Soon!

Guys I was furiously trying to finish up today's hilarious message, when my time was cut short by the impending arrival of me having to go to work. Some people call it Chanello's, but I just call it the lower depths of hell.

Lest you think I'm ungrateful, at the end of almost every day I say, "Money is money."

New Post here in approximately 8 hours!

Stories from Conversations that Never Really Happened

Setting: A squalid farmhouse built with inheritance money by a black man that had proven to be an illegitimate heir of Abraham Lincoln and was given a small pension to just go away.

Characters: A traveling salesman named Ray, and Esther the housewife.

(A knock on the door)
(The door is opened)
Esther(with a bemused look on her face): Kin I help yu?

Ray(stepping through the front door and opening his suitcase): Why yes you can maam. Can you show me to the fireplace?

Esther: We don't use that no more.

Ray: Maam, I understand that a lot of poor farmers are replacing the inconvenience of building a fire in the winter with more modern conveniences like gas furnaces, but until we all get these so called "gas furnaces" running in our house, we'll all still need to use the fireplace in the winter, and when we do that the fireplace gets dirty. Maam I have a product which will absolutely change your life. No, dare I say it, it will revolutionize your life.

Esther: Whatever you say suh.

Ray: Man I say whatever I please, and I generally get away with it because of my exquisite moustache. See, isn't that fine? Would you like to give it a twirl?

Esther: That shorely is a nice moustache Mr...

Ray: Ray. Ray Cobb, traveling salesman. At your service maam. I provide every kind of modern convenience that a poor desolate housewife such as yourself desparately needs, but doesn't even realize it.

Esther: Why I do declare!

Ray: Maam you will be declaring every day after you see how my fireplace magic solution cleans the dirt right off your fireplace from under your very nose. Now about that fireplace...

Esther: Well okay.

They go to the fireplace.

Ray: Maam what in blazes am I looking at?

Esther: That's our fireplace, it burnt down years ago after the ol' wompus of 25' We just use blankets to keep warm in the winter now.

Ray: Why that is the most peculiar thing that I think I have ever heard. Just you wait right there while I go to my car and get the most luxurious blanket that you have ever seen in your dear life for only a nickel.

Here We Are Now Entertain Us

Here We Are Now Entertain Us

After flipping through my monthly free Rolling Stone magazine that I mostly despise that just came in to my mailbox today I was reminded of the words of Kurt Cobain some 12 odd years ago, “Here we are now, entertain us.” The glut entertainment of society has always produced a love/hate relationship by people who value things of real content, of real quality who want something told to them as if it really meant something and not just pounded out, rehashed, and served in heaping spoonfuls to the masses.

Reality tv and celebrity gossip brings us all together on a superficial level and reminds us all how unimportant we are compared to the cult of personality.

Kelly Clarkson doing punk rock is banality on its highest level. How are we supposed to believe her words if her essence is as changeable as hair color? Punk rock is supposed to be a way of being, of rebelling against what you see as an oppressive system

Yes, I did see a picture of little Miss Kelly in Rolling Stone. There was also a side column of celebrity news, which function as ads for the stars in question. It told me that Bo Bice just got out of the hospital. Normally these side columns do a little better in informing you who these people are. In this case, it should have read Bo Bice, singer. At least that’s what I’m assuming Bo Bice is. I think he was on that reality tv singing show whatever it’s called that I could care less about. I guess I’m supposed to rush out to Best Buy to purchase his latest “music”.

Admittedly my ambivalence towards mass entertainment probably has something to do with the fact that I produce my own entertainment. I’m quite at home anywhere I go producing my own amusement. My only problem is I need someone around to share it with.

Where are you someone?

More Media Relief

During this last week there have been a wave of benefits for Hurricane Katrina. I don't know how much good this will do because Hurricane Katrina is already gone.

But really, since I've been driving for the accursed Chanello's this month, I have been pretty much listening to talk radio non-stop and I have concluded that there was absolutely no plan in place on the local level for what do about a hurricane that was predicted to come for years. The Louisiana state charter in fact has contingency plans about what to do in case of a hurricane. There were emergency buses that could have been used to get the black people out of town that are now complaining about lack of food, water, and shelter, and honeybuns. Hurricane Katrina was so big that the state had 3 days notice - clearly it was going to do some major damage.

So then, is the reason that there is no public outcry against the black mayor of New Orleans, and the governor of Louisiana who is a woman, because it's just easier to blame George Bush?

In case you didn't know, Federal relief has to be requested by the state for Federal help to flow in. In this case, the help was requested an entire day after Katrina had hit.

Does it surprise anyone that a black man and a woman want the Federal Government to do everything for them?

Why am I so bothered by people thinking that this is George Bush's problem? Because it is just stupid, that's why.

B.E.T. had a ridiculous benefit concert the other day called S.O.S. (Saving Ourselves) and Bill Clinton called in to offer his support. The announcer Steve Harvey asked him what he would have done differently if he were still the President.

Bill Clinton made nice about it. He didn't attack Bush, and he didn't say,"Boy I'll come down there and bitch slap you if you're going to be talking about our President like that." But maybe he should have said that.

Why do black members of Congress think that Bush hates black people? Does anyone realize that the Federal Government is slow to do anything?

Once again, in case you didn't catch it. The mayor of New Orleans is a whiny loser in sore need of a bitch slap. There have been countless celebrities out there for a photo op to look good, and supposedly to raise "awareness" of the cause; so why hasn't the mayor been out there helping people?

And One More Thing that's not about the Hurricane

I just got my used 40 gig ipod in the mail the other day from Ebay User bigrob18293, and it immediately didn't work. When I told the guy that, he said,"It was working perfectly before I sent it, I'm not sure what to tell you. Try an Apple Store maybe? Nice doing business with you."

Wow. Maybe this guy should consider running a large town and letting George Bush handle his problems for him and then blame him when he doesn't come fast enough to suit him.

Seriously, does anyone except personal responsibility for anything anymore?

I need my Ipod bigrob18293, and I need it now.

Blog: It Does a Body Good

Hopefully today's blog will go well on the way of answering the question of whether or not you should blog when you have less than nothing to say. This kind of talk sends a pickle right up the spine of people who always think everyone has something to say and are always willing to stick a microphone in someone's face and put them on tv.

Cameraman: Quick you're on tv say something!
Person: I ain't got no food, and I ain't got no water, and a little boy just stole my honeybun. Where'd he go? When I catch him I'm gonna____BZZZT

Transmission has been interrupted

I saw Mr. T recently in a local newspaper article on how Mohawks are coming back. Judging by the fact that my local newspaper is decidedly uncool I was having a hard time believing that Mohawks were actually coming back and whether or not Mr. T was still cool.

I have always believed that he was, but this may have been because of my deluded personality, or maybe it was that one time I saw him do a motivational speech on television.

Mr. T - Some people out there, they ask me what the "T" stands for. Well for the badguys the T stands for tough, and for the woman and children, the T stands for Tender.

If you ask me, the "T" stands for totally frikkin cool. I understand that totally frikkin cool is like 3 words but you have to allow me some levity because it's 1:44 in the morning. I should not be blogging right now. I should be in bed dreaming about being in school again. I hope it won't be that dream where there's a school assembly and I've forgotten to wear pants. I really hate that one.

I used to think that dreams were symbolic and that you could interpret them to mean something, like falling could mean...that you are scared of falling down, or sex dreams could mean that you want to have sex.

I thought that until 7th grade when this kid told me that he had dreams of being on a motorcycle and being chased by dinosaurs with grenades. I'm pretty sure that doesn't mean anything at all, and therefore the whole system is fundamentally flawed and will have to be scrapped.

Hey, who here brushes their teeth? I've brushed my teeth before, and I plan to again very soon.

Brushing your teeth is one thing that we can all do to look better, and you know how important that is. Which reminds me of how I heard that song "popular" on the radio the other day. I normally don't listen to the radio much, so it was unusual. However, it reminded me of how much I used to love the song, and how relevant it still sounds. I think I'll go steal it off the internet somewhere.

Hey how bout Sean Penn springing a leak in his boat in New Orleans while trying to rescue people during a photo opportunity, man talk about crying over spilt milk.

The Center for the Retarded

Here at the center for the retarded, we handle cases of retardation of all kinds. Some people come to us with their idiot sons and expect that we can turn them around.

This is not always the case. Sometimes retarded happens. I know. I've seen it.

I'm James Thurbon, M.D. for the mentally, physically, and spiritually retarded.

If I had another joke right now. I would surely put it in. But I do not.

But I do have....

A GREAT BOOK IDEA!!!!!!

I've got this great idea for a book called "The Idiot's Guide to Idiots". Incredible title huh? I mean the thing practically writes itself. This is going in Barnes and Nobles right next to the toilet reader volume 3 in the humor section.

I've already got some of it sketched out in the ol noggin. So if any if you can think of any good ideas, just let me know.

What time is it?

Guys please help. Seriously. I need some comments. I'm dying here. I spend way too long writing these things and coming up with ideas (usually) and I get no response. Is this stuff funny? Does it make you laugh? Do you like it? Are you just reading to placate me? I don't know. I feel like I'm shouting to an empty room, like I'm the performer that no one cares about.

This stuff is hard to do. If I wanted to just ramble every day and put out some crap like everyone else or just a link to some news item that they liked that day, that would be easy. Maybe I should just be like everyone else then you would like me more. Those other people get comments.

What do I have to do? I wish someone would tell me. Best friend for life actually called me up the other day with a comment about my blog instead of leaving a comment on my blog. Is everyone scared of leaving a comment or a complaint? I can take it. I'm a big boy. I'm 29, remember?

I need your support more than ever. My parents are just clawing me to death hoping against hope that I'll stay here forever with them. They don't know that there's nothing for me here, that I'm dying here the longer that I stay. My dad keeps giving me newspaper clippings about jobs I could get around here when I keep telling him that I'm leaving. The other day I started telling my mom about apartments in New York and she just started moaning about starving actors. Doesn't she know that's the life for me? How come everyone but my parents thinks I'm a great actor? Are they just so scared of everything that they're hanging on to life by their fingertips? My dad still wants me to get a job at an industrial supply company and work my way up or join the army as a colonel rank because I have a bachelor's degree. I can't live my life every day without dreams like some people can. I want more than that. You have to do what you love, it's not just about making money. If you're dead inside, then you have nothing to live for.

And I just get so frustrated every day when I put out what I think is an overall awesome work that's entirely unique and unlike anything that you could read in a magazine or newspaper anywhere and I get no response. Did I just hear crickets?

This is why I stopped writing my fan club newsletter on the internet at http://joshdudley.tripod.com. I didn't get enough support. I didn't feel like anyone cared and they were just letting me be wierd and doing my own thing.

I'm trying to save up money for an apartment at the end of this month. I got turned down for a job at the Olive Garden even though I have a friend that works there who's in good with the manager, and everyone who worked there just told me that I had to keep coming back and they would eventually hire me. Well, I've been there like 8 times at least and the manager on the phone told me that they had nothing for me. Was I just supposed to wait for them to not call me like they don't call everyone else?

Working at Chanello's is absolutely killing me. The heat is stifling in the restaurant and no one talks there about anything of any interest except how much their tip was, and the score of the football game, and how much the store sucks.

Well, I can't help but agree with them more on that last part.

P.S. I'm sorry this blog sucked so much and was just like everyone else on the internet, but maybe that's what you guys want. I don't know. Whatever. Goodnight.

Did you Know?

Today's edition is brought to you by the people that brought that other stuff to you that last time.

Did you know that a dollar is worth 100 pennies? or 4 quarters? or 10 dimes? Or just a random assortment of coins. Why even Canadian money could be worth a dollar.

This has been today's edition of Did you Know?

*I didn't know that (alert reader from Tuscaloosa, Idaho)

Me and Melvin

I've been applying all over the place to restaurants ever since I got fired. None of them have called me back. I don't think that calling people back is something that restaurant managers actually do. They probably figure that they don't need to because they always have people coming in to fill out applications and you can never have too many hot girls working at your restaurant and trust me there will always be a slot open for them over say...me.

So I applied at this one particular place that was just opening called Carabba's Italian Grill, and this is where I met Melvin, the Egyptian Assassin. When I first filled out my application he thanked me for coming in. He managed to do this without smiling somehow. I figured this was odd at first, but I guessed that he probably just hated people. This was also where I met Bryan who looked deceptively like Jason Statham, the action star of the hot new movie of the summer, TRANSPORTER 2! Bryan managed to smile when he talked which I approved of, but it didn't quite mesh with Melvin, or the other ethnic managers with moustaches milling around.

So I left went on my merry way, and came back where I had to fill out what Bryan called a personality profile. It was so long that I should have been given the job just for my ability to finish it. The first 80 questions or so were just basically grading how much of a jerk you are, and the next 80 were like S.A.T. questions of English and Math so naturally I got all of those right. When I was done I just sorta sat around while everyone was buzzing around. Later I sat some more, and then a little bit more. When I was done with that I got up, and then sat down again. A half hour after that Bryan came back after I flagged someone down to tell him to come back for me. With that deceptive "nice guy smile" of his Bryan put me at ease and told me that I was a qualified canidate "for once". I asked about this and he said that a lot of people applying were (you ready for this?) unqualified. I sensed blood in the water so I made some small talk, looked at a picture of his daughter and patted him on the back. After he agreed to call me back personally I figured it was in the bag.

I forgot that Bryan was actually a manager and he's not allowed to call me back. So I had to call, but every time I got on the phone there and asked for Bryan, Melvin got on. I told him I applied last week and blah blah. And he said," Yeah well if we haven't called you back yet then you should probably just continue your job search. Thanks a lot for calling." This wasn't good enough for me, I had to hear it personally from Bryan who said he would call me back personally.

So I called again the next day and asked for Bryan, so naturally Melvin answered the phone again and said hello. I told him my name was Bob and I put on a Russian accent. Well Bob, Melvin said in a zombie like state, if we haven't called you yet then we're probably not going to hire you, so just continue your job search and thanks for calling.

Not one to be put out so easily, I waited a day or two and then went over in person again. I saw Bryan inside cutting tomatoes, but he was behind the counter and didn't notice me, so I mentioned this to one of the waiters standing around and he said I should wait outside because they're not open yet. So I waited outside in the stifling heat for about five minutes and of course Melvin popped out the door and said, "No more monkeys jumping on the bed." I'm sorry that was funny, but you know what Melvin said, so I didn't want to bother telling it again.

I thought I was done with Carabbas, it felt like I wanted to ask Bryan out, and Melvin was secretly in love with him and was there to block me from every angle. I'm not saying he was gay or anything but there was definitely a "man-lust" angle going on.

I was ready to give up, but after recounting the story to WildChild and her sister Arthouse they convinced me to call one more time and act like a telemarketer on the phone. Bryan actually picked up the phone and I said, "Hello Bryan, this is Joshua I applied 2 weeks ago, and I haven't heard back yet, but you said I was a qualified candidate so I was hoping there was still some hope for me." Bryan said he remembered me,"the actor right?" and told me,"Tommorrow at 1:00 call me if you're going to be late." So I hung up the phone thinking how easy that was.

Little did I know....

The next day I was again working for Chanello's but I figured I could get around it somehow, so at 12:40 I was going to duck out of there and leave. I called over there to confirm our appointment and Bryan still wasn't there. So in lue of having an awkward meeting with Melvin again, I figured I could call and say I was going to be late and take another delivery.

When I got there at 1:20 Bryan was there and he had this wrinkled brow thing going on with his face, and he was like,"Dude you're almost like 20 minutes late. I expected you to be here 15 minutes early. I mean first impressions and all man...my partners and I....we just can't offer you a job at this time." Just between you and me folks, I think Bryan was coached on that one. I didn't realize that when Bryan said to call if I was going to be late that it meant I was basically dogmeat if I came in late. That would have helped.

Maybe I shouldn't have put on the application that I was fired from Ruby Tuesday?

Here's what's happening in your world

Look folks. If we don't pretend that nothing has happened, then the hurricane will have already won. I don't particularly like it when hurricanes win. So uh. Quit all that freekin out, and stop all your gas hysteria.

Chris Farley was given a star on the Walk of Fame


This actually happened a few days ago, I just neglected to talk about it. Chris Farley was the greatest ball of fat known to man. He could use a 2-dollar bill as a prop and make it funny by trying to rip it in half and falling over. Actually my favorite memories were mostly of him falling over or hitting his head on something and screaming. He was the greatest self-pitying comic ever. Predictably 99% of you reading this have seen Tommy Boy since Comedy Central and TNT run it like every other week, but I would also reccomend that you rent or buy his SNL greatest hits DVD. This despite the fact that the new SNL dvd's are just basically chop shop operations where they just take random footage and throw it on the disk. But hey, I'm sure his greatest character, Bennet Brauer (as shown above) is on there. Just because he didn't look good doesn't mean your screen will melt.

Side note: David Spade was at the Walk of Fame and ceremony and said a few words. I don't really know what he said, but I can probably summarize, "Holy Hell I miss that fat tub of lard, my career is nothing without him. That former child star movie? Wow what was I thinking? I need help."

Reflections on Pizza Delivery and Being 29

Unsurprisingly the people that work at my Chanello's Pizza store are a motley collection of individuals. Former convicts, senior citizens and ladies with a large amount of cellulose is a pretty good description of the workers there. Oh yeah and me. I'm 29, don't have a girlfriend (or a kid), and haven't been married or in jail (thanks to my lawyer). I guess I just forgot that people naturally think certain things when they see people. For instance, a youngish looking middle-aged man with bleached blonde hair, and a crooked smile came into Chanello's the other day with a young teenage looking guy with a bandana and tight shorts. I instantly thought, "Pedophile and gay." Now, it turns out that I was right, but you still can't make assumptions all the time. Okay, scratch that, actually you can. Assumptions based on people's looks are right about 80 % of the time. If you see a young woman with red hair and a Riot GRLLL T-shirt then it would be quite alright for you to venture a guess that she is a punk rocker.

So, it only makes sense that the world's oldest pizza delivery driver thought I was gay. Here. I'll start the conversation from where he gave a racial anecdote for the second time.

Old guy: Yup, Rosco was driving down to 29th street and this lady came to the door and said "Hold on let me get you a tip and then this other woman came to the door and said, Don't tip him, he's a white man."
Me: Yeah that's awful. You actually told me that yesterday.
Old guy (smiling): Yep, them black folks don't like tippin white people. And my friend was from up North, and he was like, I didn't think people was prejudice in Virginia, and I told him, Yeah they are.

An awkward pause later....

Old guy: Say how old are you anyway?
Me: 29
Old guy: You got a girlfriend?
Me: Nope.
Old guy: You been married?
Me: Nope.
Old guy (backing away slowly): Well whatever then.
Me: I'm sorry. What?
Old guy: Well you know. You like girls right?
Me: Yeah.
Old guy: Well, some people don't.

It's true. Some people don't like girls. Some people also don't like Communism, and a free market society. I don't like stepping in dog poop. See, that's just part of what makes us different.

But really, I can see how the old man thought I was gay. Back in the days when he was young, I understand that women actually wanted to get married. Now, they apparently just want to party and think that guys only want one thing.

When he was growing up, gentlemen pursued a lady with intent to have children. Now they think, "I hope she can put out, and pay half the rent when she moves in."

Tragically I was brought up in a Christian environment that was sadly behind the times. For some reason, the Christian movement is and has been telling young men that they shouldn't pursue women, that instead they should just help out at the church, and in the act of painting the stoop, Bethany will naturally get the hint and fall in love. So, Christian guys with good hearts aren't often going after the ladies if they have good intentions, and the typical Christian girl today is such a wallflower that they will cluster together in large groups of Christian girl wallflowers that a guy has no hope of penetrating.

"The Lord will provide" is the common theme of the day in that area. Does anyone realize that if neither party makes the first move that the Lord can't provide? Does that kind of attitude really make sense in today's changing world? So, I've gone through life looking for a good Christian women in church. However, the good looking ones are always popular and they are surrounded by Christian guy friends. The girl then will eventually get stressed out, because one of them professes that he likes her. Oh horrors! Who could imagine that turn of events happening? I just can't stand the whole "fear of relationship" anxiety that today's at least moderately good looking Christian lady seems to possess. It doesn't make sense to me. Don't they realize that they are depressing the whole system?

I think I can explain why. The good looking girls are always having fun because they are popular and therefore don't want anything to rock the boat like some guy liking them. The slightly unatractive or uninteresting ones are never popular and so desperately crave the kind of attention that the good looking girls get on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, me the slightly above average looking Christian guy never pursued when I was younger but still managed to fall in love and lose it all in a long distance relationship later. After that, I never managed to break through the wallflower system. The church almost never helps foster young relationships, unless you count church mothers who can often be counted on for matchmaking. Coincidentally, the only girls that ever pursued me did only want one thing. That of course, and half the rent.