I've had a few things on my mind of late.  Rather than forcefully concoct some paragraph structure, I've chosen to merely list them.  If you have a problem with this, you are either:

a) An English major, which makes you:

1. A real prissy, uptight bitch
2. A homosexual with no discernible ties to Oscar Wilde
3. A cool guy working at an uninspiring, challenge-less, menial job and yearning for a creative outlet
   

b) My mother

c) Doomed to contract the first known form of venereal cancer tomorrow evening

So, without further adieu, to the list we go:

1. If they can make a giant green cylindrical alien ray destroy the White House, have Michael Jordan ball with racially questionable cartoon stereotypes, turn Matt Damon's pansy ass into an action star, and officially cancel Harrison Ford's AARP membership, how come they can't make Jackie Chan speak English convincingly?
2. How can women pretend to be self-righteous about listing their weight on online dating profiles if they are in fact obese?  It's not an issue of "he shouldn't want to know" or doesn't "need to" or "the right guy won't care" or whatever feminist bullshit you've convinced yourself of this week.  The space between your tits and your feet is of paramount significance.  Online dating doesn't need to be a surprise.  There's no such thing as a blind date anymore.  If you get set up with someone, you immediately go online and try to find photos of that person.  If all of the photos are cut off below the neck, I believe you may have landed yourself a fatty.  It is at that moment that you must either run for the hills, or simply think with your binky and coerce the poor unsuspecting teapot into a liason which most certainly will not end well.  [AUTHOR'S NOTE: Although relatively skinny, my gut grows and my hairline recedes with each passing moment.  I do not floss as regularly as I should.]
3. When, if ever, will society reach the all important break point (from which, of course, there is no return) where there are simply no more NEW derogatory epithets? How does one go about being vested with the power to create words connoting hatred?  I hereby submit a formal application to the powers that be.  I propose the following epithets for the following groups of people:
   

1. Jews - T-Bones
2. Asians - Steamboats
3. Blacks - Pillows
4. Hispanics - Dandelions
5. Catholics - Aspirin Dildos
6. Homosexual Men - Clocks
7. Lesbians - Corned Beef
8. Goth - Staplers
9. Hippies - Jews  <--Think about that, it makes ALOT of sense.
10. Native Americans - Squanto Scalp Fuckers
    

That is all for now.  I promise to write soon.  Life is a terrible board game where somebody's always watching the bank and it's not you.

Since the dawn of time, (I've always wanted to use that phrase), the old guard, fearful of changes a brewin', has always been afraid of the youth.  Even as Australopithecines became Homos (That joke was mine for the taking.), the elders were concerned: "No play rock!  Rock bad!  I play rock!  You no play rock!"  (For those concerned with scientific accuracy, rest assured that these hypothetical postulations are at least as legitimate as the story from Kobe Bryant's rape accuser and the Duke stripper.) 

Where am I going with this?  I'm not sure, I go off in more directions than R Kelly's urine stream, but hear me out...

I guess I just don't understand why big pageants of excess like the Oscars are treated as though they matter anymore.  Maybe in 1955, when Marilyn Monroe's subway grate-induced panty flash in The Seven Year Itch was considered risque, I could see Joe American huddled with his obesely useless cumdumpster of a wife and their three "I love Pat Boone" children, waiting and hoping and praying to catch a glimpse of all the stars.  Nowadays, I'd rather wax K.D. Lang's menstruating cooter after a humid Lilith Fair performance then let these frauds into my hard-earned living room.

When will the mainstream media realize that, except the Super Bowl, there just aren't a whole heck of a lot of event spectacles that matter like they used to anymore.  In all seriousness, nobody except (some of) those within the industry actually cares about who wins these awards.  (Which category do the Coen brothers fall under?)  If it were up to me, the people who host and partake in these supposed Oscar pools would be told to pack everything they hold near and dear for a "long Cruise."  The boat will drift somewhere near the Dharma Initiative's HQ and in the middle of the night, all the crew members/Saint Delicious operatives will abandon ship and speed back to shore.  Then, these celebri-vermin will be able to watch their beloved self-infatuation ceremonies for days on end until the ship's rations run out.  Or...until a nuclear warhead the size of George Clooney's ego sends them all to "heaven." 

For some further context, I live in Los Angeles.  It's also important to note that while I may "act" in various Saint Delicious Productions, I do not consider myself an actor.  Important distinctions between myself and so-called actors:

1) The only "method" I know of involves wiping front to back so as to avoid contaminating the genital area.
2) I have less less control over the small movements and characterizations of my face and body than Lance Bass has over the objects going in to and coming out of his asshole.

I am an employee of a commercial casting studio in Santa Monica, CA.  I basically serve as a tech guy, facilitating video conference castings, posting audition footage online, editing together selects as per director's instructions, lots of other equally uninteresting, uninspiring, mundane bullshit...  My more general role, which stands in direct contrast to every facet of self-worth, moral turpitude and humility my mother ever taught me, is Assistant Coddler.  I am paid to babysit grown men and women who are incapable of virtually everything.  Metaphorically speaking, I am the guy who takes out the giant soiled linen basket of a small part of the entertainment industry. 

And now, without further adieu, 3 Things I've Noticed About L.A.

1) 90-95% of people working in entertainment in L.A. are not doing what they want to be doing.  Nobody moves to Los Angeles eager to get coffee, give blow jobs or make photocopies.  But everybody ends up doing all of those things, and more, (one time I had to go down on the Starbucks barista just so he would lend me the money to go nextdoor to Kinko's) and most frequently under the guise of all of it being towards a presumably worthwhile ends.  Most learn soon that the means is illusory, just like the notion of respect for underlings in the entertainment industry.

2) The reason why people within the entertainment industry are so wasteful, irrational and disrespectful is primarily a result of the persistent feeling of irrelevance felt by most of those who have responsibility, but don't really deserve it.  These people know that they are inherently replaceable given how gratuitously unspecialized and maternalistic their jobs actually are.  I have an idea; how 'bout instead of ensuring that your prize-winning director gets the most overpriced, overordered bounty of food since the Donner Party, you, Oh, I don't know, try to do your fucking job?  How 'bout instead of screaming at some 23 year old kid about how one of the lattes was supposed to be a venti, you, oh, what is it, get off your lazy ass and do something worthwhile...

3)  You can't talk smack on L.A. until you've truly fallen in love with it.  And that, above all else, is why I'm writing this manifesto.

In closing, I'll give you some more questions to ponder:

1) You know how gay people sometimes ask heterosexuals what "percentage gay" they are?  On what scale does this work?  Surely somebody's 0% and somebody else is 100%.  Charlton Heston and Richard Simmons?

2) What's more effective?  Mexican birth control methods or public transportation in Los Angeles?

3) Is there a justifiable difference between believing in religion and believing in God?  If so, will somebody alert radical Islam, evangelical Christians and those fucking kikes with the top hats that think they have a monopoly on self-righteousness?

We see them all over the place, everywhere we turn and every place we go.  At first I rolled my eyes and wondered the class mindset of people occupying this world, but I realized I was wrong and was looking at them in the incorrect light.  I've now come to the conclusion that the men(and few women) wearing apparel depicting Al Pacino from Scarface are slowly but surely implementing a type of Scarface Religion amongst the world, and we better adapt. 

Sure, you may be asking yourself, "Why in the world would so many people be transfixed upon displaying an icon that derived from a way overrated and shitty film, depicting the world of drug dealing and murder?" 
Well my simpleminded comrade, I was once in the same boat as you titled, "S.S. Ingorance".  But with a little perseverance and multiple nitrous whip-its, you will come to the realization that I have; they are keeping it real so we don't have to. 

Oh my naive little cherub, that same repetitive image of Tony Montana that you see everywhere from T-Shirts and hats to shoes and very recently embroidered on pleather jackets, is merely a badge of honor saying:
"Dear sir or madame, although my current position in society most likely doesn't require all my brain power, and I may not be a drug dealer nor Cuban, I must tell you that any tomfoolery going about will stop right here because Scarface and the people wearing him won't stand for it.  Furthermore, its very possible that I haven't done anything to attain this position with the exception of watching the epic film multiple times and then stopping into my local "Hot Topic" store and purchasing this garment, but what I'm wearing displays precisely how hard hitting I am."

This has become what I am now calling "Scar-fascism", in which wherever you go, as soon as you seen a Tony Montana image on somebody's person, the Scarface Dogma will follow and its a pretty fair assumption that these people aren't looking for any validation from you because essentially.....you can go fuck yourself you maricon! (And rightfully so)

And oh, how delightfully imaginative it is when I hear the term "Cock-A-Roach" or better yet, what order I need to get the "Money-Power-Women"(in that order, respectively) or how about when we all have to, "say 'ello to their little friend". Its truly amazing, no matter how many times I hear the line, it just always resonates and never gets old!  Now you ill-educated people out there may still think its dull and materialistic talk, but I can only compare these constant Scarfascist sayings to the ancient Buddhist chants except with a lot less boredom and a little more cheap cologne. 

The Scarface Revolution has begun, there is no doubt about that, and I don't know if Brian DePalma or Oliver Stone knew what they had on their hands, but their impact is immense and am so envious that their modesty hasn't tried to cash in on the Tony Montana way of life.  It may be an acquired tasted to get used to, but do it quick because any hesitation might result in being buried.......like a cock-a-roach (tee-hee!!!)

I wish to talk to you today about having a moral center.  Morality is a nearly impossible notion to pin down; it's like having sex with the obese.  I must remind you that I am not referring to a Church or a Mosque or a Synagogue, Scientology, Wicca or the board of Ouija.  I'm talking about Tuesday night bro; how'd that go?  Are your fingers dipped in the scent of eau de vagina yet?  I'll bet they are.  Man, she was quite a catch. 

In all sincerity, I have a list of behaviors and actions in which I will never partake.  My list is very long because I am an ethically sound, morally appropriate individual.  My list stretches longer than my phallus.  You know, the ol' corporate endowment?  Sure, I know what you're thinking; how large is the font in which your list is written?  Trust me honey, it's large!  By that I mean, of course, the list.

Though I have no proof, I would chance a massive fortune on the fact that you often engage in beastiality.  It's no secret.  Everyone in town knows about your "love of dogs."  It's no longer even sorta funny.  Just because you were never good enough to ball in the NBA doesn't mean you need to father children like you do.  You're a self-righteous scumbag with enough Internet subscriptions to make Pee Wee Herman look like a Kennedy (Not Ted.)  Also, your dandruff reflects light in such a way as to almost convince me you're slightly more than meaningless.

In truth, the real reason I'm on this holier than thou kick/shtick is far less philanthropic.  How do I phrase this properly?  I'm a total sellout.  A lark.  A true hyp(pie)ocrat in every sense of the (pseudo) word.  After nearly two and a half decades of balls to the wall, uncompromising, adventurously audacious living, I'm about to make my most obvious, blatantly narcissistic move yet.  As a result, I see myself, in a way, as microcosmically and directly opposite to the actions of the Beatles, whose beginning is viewed by some as "soft."  [Not sonically, just relative to the experimentation of their later work.]  There, I did it, I've finally compared myself to the Beatles.  To fully stretch this analogy further, my attending law school can accurately be equated to Please Please Me.  In much the same vain, both will likely finish with an aggressively outspoken loonbag (aren't we all?) screaming his lungs out while all around others seem contented with their Bubble Teas and Chai Lattes.  Of course, one of those men is me, for whom hair is rapidly becoming a nonexistent commodity (like large bills at a strip club), and the other is John Lennon, whose one strand of pubic hair would probably fetch in excess of $1 million pounds at Sotheby's.

In closing, I'd like to throw out a few questions for you philosophers out there?

1) Would you rather have dinner with John Paul Jones the pope or Led Zeppelin's bassist?  Yes, a translator is provided.

2) If you accidentally consumed another human's feces, would you rather it be a lefty kook like Hanoi Jane Fonda or a winged nut like Ted Nugent?  I'm not even sure if she's a vegetarian, but I bet his venizen-filled dung would have more nutrients.

3) If Christ died for your sins, who died for Christ's sin of being a Jew.  Everyone knows Jews make matzo from the blood of Christian babies, so...unless it's one of those chicken and egg kinda things...?

4) If you had to choose between doing something for the rest of your life that was idiot proof and completely vain or something that was interesting but ultimately dull, which would you choose?  Please note that I didn't say "someone," I said "something."

I'll be back soon to shit all over this page like the elderly on a tour bus after a coffee run.

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Check us out on Itunes here...

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Eric@SaintDelicious.Com
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Please be advised additionally that this site will soon feature blogging from legendary literary types like "EpicWagey" and "theDan."

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