Straight out of Curb Your Enthusiasm
So I'm sitting on the subway playing Angry Birds: Halloween Edition on my iPhone, when a Cute Black Child sits down next to me. He starts watching me play and then asks, "can I play?" and with every guilty white liberal bone in my body I proudly exclaim, "Sure!"
Now I'm holding the phone while the kid plays Angry Birds. I show him how to play, but he's not doing so well. Then I explain to him that you have to pull the bird to the left in order to make it go to the right, and he's starting to get the hang of it. He beats a level and I give him a high-five. I feel like fucking RFK and MLK rolled into one for all the good I've done for racial harmony in this country. The kid starts getting so good that my hand holding the phone is obstructing his shots. So he asks if he can hold the phone himself. "Of course," I reply as I hand him the phone. As he plays, his Mom, who has been standing there the whole time, chats with me about how he really loves games and I tell her that he is very precocious and talented. If my heart were any more warmed they'd have to send in the Fire Department.
But just then, Mom jolts to attention as she realizes it's their stop and the doors just opened. She thanks me and walks to the doors. "It's our stop, let's go!" she cries out to her son. But my Cute Black Child friend is in the middle of an Angry Birds level and is solely focused on beating it (we've all been there). So I politely say, "Sorry buddy, you've gotta go with your Mom now," and put out my hands for him to give me back the phone. But he's got laser-focus on the game, and ignores me.
By this time, the doors are only 10 seconds from closing. I've got to do something, or either a) the kid will take the phone with him in his hurry to get to Mom, or b) the doors will close and I'll have to get the kid back to Mom somehow, neither of which are very appealing options. "You've gotta go!" I repeat. No reaction. So I take the only action I think can solve this morass - I reach for the iPhone. As my hand touches the iPhone, I realize this kid is not letting go. He's 100% focused on playing Angry Birds. So I gently try to pull the phone away from him, figuring this might make him understand the situation. But he just pulls the phone back toward him and tries to keep playing. Now there are 5 seconds to go until the doors close, and I've got only one, horrible option left.
And that's how I ended up grappling over an iPhone with a Cute Black Child on the subway, with him screaming "NO! IT'S MY GAME!"as I pulled on the iPhone with all my might. Finally I wrested control of the phone and the kid ran out of the train just in the nick of time, leaving me to stew in the disgusted stares of the white liberals and old Hispanic ladies around me. Somehow I'd gone from RFK to KKK in the blink of an eye.
Another WaLuigi Interview
[Interviewer From Nintendo Power, a mid-20s dude, sits across from WaLuigi. A gruff 40-year-old Cameraman films them]Interviewer: So WaLuigi, how much do you hate Luigi?
WaLuigi: You know, in my old age, I've realized that my anger toward Luigi was unjustified. The real deserving target of my anger is the Wall Street banks, who are giving record bonuses this year even as average Americans face the highest unemployment rate in decades and most of Wall Street's profits are thanks to government largesse.
Interviewer: CUT! WaLuigi, what're you doing? It's a simple question, just answer it like the script says and we'll be done here. This isn't fuckin' Charlie Rose.
WaLuigi: I'm not that guy anymore. I'm a public intellectual now. Thurman Thomas and I published an article in the Huffington Post supporting the creation of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau that very well may have pushed the legislation over the edge in the Senate.
Cameraman: We gotta get movin'. We got Yoshi across town in half an hour.
Interviewer: I tell you what - let's record the stuff from the script super quick, and then we'll get a bunch of footage of whatever you want to say after that.
WaLuigi: Alright, alright.
[Cameraman turns on camera]
Interviewer: So WaLuigi, how much do you hate Luigi?
WaLuigi (shaking fist): I-ah hate him so-ah much-ah! (pause) Now you also have to realize it's not just the banks - Bernanke and Geithner are using the government to help the banks--
Interviewer: And that's a wrap.
[Interviewer and Cameraman pack up]
WaLuigi: But I haven't even explained how TARP is only one tiny sliver of the government's propping up of the banks
[Interviewer and Cameraman walk away]
WaLuigi (shaking fist): You'll rue-ah the day-ah you crossed-ah WaLuigi!
[WaLuigi is now alone]
(WaLuigi sighs)
WaLuigi: Ah well, at least I have my driving shoes.
A la recherche du temps poo-poo
[10-Year-Old Dan is in the bathroom]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: Well, I have to poop and I have to take a shower. Why don't I take a shower and then poop? Then I'll feel all clean when I poop!
[10-Year-Old Dan takes a shower. He dries off, then sits on the toilet and takes a poop and starts to wipe up]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: That was completely insane! I just did the cleanest thing in the world and then the dirtiest thing. Ah well, life lesson learned. Poop and then shower. Better tell Rich.
[10-Year-Old Dan picks up his pants and is about to open the bathroom door]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: Wait a second, I'm not telling Rich. Let him figure it out on his own. I mean he doesn't tell me how he does that NHL '93 juke move to score all those goals. Screw him.
[10-Year-Old Dan opens the bathroom door. 10-Year-Old Rich is on the other side]
10-Year-Old Dan: Hey Rich, bathroom's free! You can shower, and poop. In any order you want, yep.
10-Year-Old Rich: Uh, what?
10-Year-Old Dan: Oh nothing. Doo-da-doo-da-doo
[10-Year-Old Dan walks off to read The Indian in the Cupboard but really just fantasizes about Rich screwing up the shower/poop order]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: Well, I have to poop and I have to take a shower. Why don't I take a shower and then poop? Then I'll feel all clean when I poop!
[10-Year-Old Dan takes a shower. He dries off, then sits on the toilet and takes a poop and starts to wipe up]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: That was completely insane! I just did the cleanest thing in the world and then the dirtiest thing. Ah well, life lesson learned. Poop and then shower. Better tell Rich.
[10-Year-Old Dan picks up his pants and is about to open the bathroom door]
10-Year-Old Dan's Inner Monologue: Wait a second, I'm not telling Rich. Let him figure it out on his own. I mean he doesn't tell me how he does that NHL '93 juke move to score all those goals. Screw him.
[10-Year-Old Dan opens the bathroom door. 10-Year-Old Rich is on the other side]
10-Year-Old Dan: Hey Rich, bathroom's free! You can shower, and poop. In any order you want, yep.
10-Year-Old Rich: Uh, what?
10-Year-Old Dan: Oh nothing. Doo-da-doo-da-doo
[10-Year-Old Dan walks off to read The Indian in the Cupboard but really just fantasizes about Rich screwing up the shower/poop order]
Future Economics Class Scene
Professor: Let's take Tom Schmidt. Now of course he has an absolute advantage in every task- he's better than you at everything. But it would be beneficial to him to trade with you, who are worse at everything than he, because of the principle of Comparative Advantage- you do the task that you're RELATIVELY better at, he does the task he's relatively better at, and you both win.
Student 1: I don't believe you. Tom Schmidt should do all of the tasks.
Professor: No, you see he should focus his resources on the task he's relatively best at and use the wealth he gains from that to trade for goods from other parties.
Student 2: What if we cloned Tom Schmidt?
Professor: You can't clone Tom Schmidt! It's not part of the example!
Student 3: Why isn't Tom Schmidt teaching this class? He'd be better than you at explaining this.
Professor: BECAUSE I HAVE A COMPARATIVE... just, never mind
Student 1: I don't believe you. Tom Schmidt should do all of the tasks.
Professor: No, you see he should focus his resources on the task he's relatively best at and use the wealth he gains from that to trade for goods from other parties.
Student 2: What if we cloned Tom Schmidt?
Professor: You can't clone Tom Schmidt! It's not part of the example!
Student 3: Why isn't Tom Schmidt teaching this class? He'd be better than you at explaining this.
Professor: BECAUSE I HAVE A COMPARATIVE... just, never mind
Scene from a 1993 Hanukkah
Jared's Mom: And I saved the best gift for the last night![Jared's Mom hands Jared a small gift-wrapped box. Jared's eyes light up, as if he knows what it is]
[Jared rips open the box. Inside is the SNES version of Mortal Kombat]
[The excitement evaporates from Jared's face]
Jared's Mom: It's exactly what you wanted! You excited to play?
Jared: Mom, I wanted the Genesis version
Jared's Mom: Genesis? Super Nintendo? It's all the same
Jared: No, it's not the same. There's no blood in the Super Nintendo version. You did this on purpose!
Jared's Mom: On purpose? Jared, you're giving me far too much credit - what do I know about video games? It's not like I leaf through your little Nintendo Powers while you're at school
[Jared grabs a VHS tape labeled "60 Minutes 11/12/93 - Violent Video Games and Your Kids: What You Should Know/Cheers Final Ep."]
Jared: This ring any bells?
Jared's Mom: You don't need to see all that blood! You're very impressionable at this age - I've read studies!
CUT TO:
[Later that night]
[Jared's sitting in front of the TV playing Mortal Kombat for SNES, slack-jawed, clearly not enjoying himself. Jared's Mom walks in]
Jared (sarcastic): Wow Mom, thanks so much. This is exhilarating
Jared's Mom: Jared, I'm letting images of a ninja beating up a woman into my home - what more do you want?!
Jared: I. Want. BLOOOOOOOOOOOD!
US Open New Camera Technology!
Now that the US Open is over, I just wanted to share with you some of the great advances CBS made with its camera technology in covering this year's Open - let's take a look!
ServeCam
Cool Australian Bro in one of the Players' EntouragesCam
"Show" Sock MonstrosityCam
Ingenue BackCam
Indented Thigh FatCam
ServeCam
Cool Australian Bro in one of the Players' EntouragesCam
"Show" Sock MonstrosityCam
Ingenue BackCam
Indented Thigh FatCam
Scene from the Early 90s
[Pete Pierson, CEO of K2 Skates sits on his porch with his wife Debbie and 5-year-old daughter, Jenny]
[Pete hands Jenny a box, which Jenny opens to find... a pair of brand-new K2 Girls' In-Line Skates!]
Jenny: Thanks Daddy! I always wanted rollerbwades!
Pete (putting his hand on his temple): They're not rollerblades, sweetie, they're in-line skates. Rollerblade is just a company, a bad company that's daddy's enemy
Jenny: OK Daddy. I'm gonna go rollerbwading with my fwiends now!
Pete: Jenny, you're not ROLLERBLADING! You're IN-LINE SKATING!
Debbie: Peter, leave Jenny alone. I'm sure she's just repeating what she heard at school
Pete: Deb, this is a crucial time in our company - if they become the generic word for in-line skates, that's it - K2 will always be an also-ran
Jenny: Mommy, did you xerox my permission swip for the trip to the science museum?
[Pete grabs Jenny's in-line skates and throws them on the lawn]
Pete: GODDAMNIT, JENNY! It's photocopy! Photocopy! There are good men, friends of mine, working their asses off over at Canon. But do you care? DOES ANYONE CARE????
[tears well up in Pete's eyes]
Debbie (smirking): Hey Peter, looks like you need a Kleenex
[Pete shoots Deb a death stare]
Product Review on Amazon
Rarely do I feel compelled to review a product on Amazon, but the Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Sock, 6-pack was that once-in-a-blue-moon product that required sharing my feelings with the internet. Here is the text of my review:
LIES LIES LIES, August 30, 2010
"No Show Socks"? More like "The Scarlet Letter of Betaness." This product just breaks my heart. I lived under the Ankle Sock-ocracy for years, decades, accepting that I was forever doomed to be branded with that glaring white material covering my ankle and upper foot, proof for all to see that I would never be "a cool, chill guy." Then I discovered No Show Socks.
No Show Socks opened up a whole new world to me. Suddenly I felt more carefree, more confident. I got better at sports, using all the energy I'd previously wasted worrying about my socks to focus on the game. Women who wouldn't have given me the time of day in the Ankle Sock era were all of a sudden striking up conversations with me, and I was bantering back effortlessly.
My first foray into the No Show Socks market had been a generic brand from my local department store. Drunk on the success of that purchase, I figured any product that had "No Show Socks" in the title would be similarly transformative. And when this 6-pack of Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks arrived in my mailbox, I tore the box open like a kid on Christmas. I ripped off the ankle-high socks I was wearing around the house (don't currently have enough No Shows to waste on sleeping) and put on a pair of my new Adidas socks. I was in such a hurry that I put my sneakers on as I was opening and shutting the door behind me.
Leaving my apartment building, the sun shone brightly and I paraded around the neighborhood like a peacock in full strut. But slowly I started noticing that people weren't treating me the same way as they had with my generic brand No Show Socks. Men my age ignored me instead of admiring my style. Teenagers giggled to themselves. And women studiously avoided eye contact with me, let alone conversation.
What was going on? I was baffled. And that's when an elderly gentleman shuffled by me and gave me a knowing look, as if we shared something, were part of the same club. I smiled and nodded at him, a bit confused. Then I looked down at his feet. He was wearing Adidas Ankle Socks - not only white, but emblazoned with a giant three-striped logo. OK, so he was wearing Adidas too, but how did he know that I was, or even that I was wearing socks? I was wearing No Shows. That's when I caught a glimpse of my own feet. Staring back at me was not a sliver, not a slice, but a WEDGE of white material stretching nearly to my ankle. How could this be?! I thought I was done with socks showing! And then, then I looked closer. And I discovered the coup de grace. Not only was the white of my socks showing, but so was THE BLACK ADIDAS LOGO! A logo showing on socks, the only thing that can one-up the horror of the white material itself.
Suffice it to say my psyche has been ruined by these socks. No longer do I consider myself a virile, athletic, confident young man. I now have more in common with the mindset of my grizzled, beaten-down-by-life fellow Adidas sock wearer - accepting the limitations of my existence, merely seeking the crumbs this world will throw me.
I looked into a class action lawsuit against Adidas, but was told that the lawyers usually take all the fees and you end up with nothing. How fitting. That's what you'll end up with if you buy this product - nothing. No money, no success, no friends, no lovers. Just the Scarlet Letter of Betaness, that white strip of material and the black stripes of the Adidas logo. Everything in this world is Black and White, and this product is no different. There's a bright line separating No Show Socks from Show Socks, and Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks are firmly on one side. The Show Side. The Dark Side.
LIES LIES LIES, August 30, 2010 | By | Daniel Berger (New York, NY) - See all my reviews |
This review is from: adidas Men's No Show Athletic Sock, 6-Pack (Apparel)
"No Show Socks"? More like "The Scarlet Letter of Betaness." This product just breaks my heart. I lived under the Ankle Sock-ocracy for years, decades, accepting that I was forever doomed to be branded with that glaring white material covering my ankle and upper foot, proof for all to see that I would never be "a cool, chill guy." Then I discovered No Show Socks.
No Show Socks opened up a whole new world to me. Suddenly I felt more carefree, more confident. I got better at sports, using all the energy I'd previously wasted worrying about my socks to focus on the game. Women who wouldn't have given me the time of day in the Ankle Sock era were all of a sudden striking up conversations with me, and I was bantering back effortlessly.
My first foray into the No Show Socks market had been a generic brand from my local department store. Drunk on the success of that purchase, I figured any product that had "No Show Socks" in the title would be similarly transformative. And when this 6-pack of Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks arrived in my mailbox, I tore the box open like a kid on Christmas. I ripped off the ankle-high socks I was wearing around the house (don't currently have enough No Shows to waste on sleeping) and put on a pair of my new Adidas socks. I was in such a hurry that I put my sneakers on as I was opening and shutting the door behind me.
Leaving my apartment building, the sun shone brightly and I paraded around the neighborhood like a peacock in full strut. But slowly I started noticing that people weren't treating me the same way as they had with my generic brand No Show Socks. Men my age ignored me instead of admiring my style. Teenagers giggled to themselves. And women studiously avoided eye contact with me, let alone conversation.
What was going on? I was baffled. And that's when an elderly gentleman shuffled by me and gave me a knowing look, as if we shared something, were part of the same club. I smiled and nodded at him, a bit confused. Then I looked down at his feet. He was wearing Adidas Ankle Socks - not only white, but emblazoned with a giant three-striped logo. OK, so he was wearing Adidas too, but how did he know that I was, or even that I was wearing socks? I was wearing No Shows. That's when I caught a glimpse of my own feet. Staring back at me was not a sliver, not a slice, but a WEDGE of white material stretching nearly to my ankle. How could this be?! I thought I was done with socks showing! And then, then I looked closer. And I discovered the coup de grace. Not only was the white of my socks showing, but so was THE BLACK ADIDAS LOGO! A logo showing on socks, the only thing that can one-up the horror of the white material itself.
Suffice it to say my psyche has been ruined by these socks. No longer do I consider myself a virile, athletic, confident young man. I now have more in common with the mindset of my grizzled, beaten-down-by-life fellow Adidas sock wearer - accepting the limitations of my existence, merely seeking the crumbs this world will throw me.
I looked into a class action lawsuit against Adidas, but was told that the lawyers usually take all the fees and you end up with nothing. How fitting. That's what you'll end up with if you buy this product - nothing. No money, no success, no friends, no lovers. Just the Scarlet Letter of Betaness, that white strip of material and the black stripes of the Adidas logo. Everything in this world is Black and White, and this product is no different. There's a bright line separating No Show Socks from Show Socks, and Adidas Men's No Show Athletic Socks are firmly on one side. The Show Side. The Dark Side.
Master's Tea with God
(polite applause)
Master G: Alright now does anyone have any questions for God?
(dozens of hands shoot up)
Master G: Hmm, let's see... Kevin
(Kevin is in front row, wearing black Patagonia vest and black hiking boots)
Kevin: Hey I was wondering - how did you decide to become a deity?
God: Just seemed like the natural thing to do.
Master G: Well that's it for the evening - God has to get to dinner with an old friend in Waterbury. Let's give God a big Pierson round of applause!
(polite applause)
(Patrick, a Divinity School student sitting in the back, holds a 3x5 notecard that reads, "My question for you is this - why have you introduced such astounding beauty in the world, yet also such astounding ugliness? Joy, but also suffering? Love, but also hatred? Life, but also death? Is there a lesson you want us to learn from the dark side of your Creation? What is that lesson?" He looks up and sees Kevin chatting with his friend)
Kevin: How do they find such interesting people to speak at these things? That lady who wrote Eat, Pray, Love was here last week!
(Patrick quietly seethes)
Scene from a Hollywood Hills Party
Fat Asian Chick: Hey yo it's McLovin'!
Christopher Mintz-Plasse: Hi, nice to meet you. My name's actually Christopher
Fat Asian Chick's Equally Fat Sister: Holy shit, it's really McLovin'!
Christopher Mintz-Plasse: No, as I said my name's Christopher
Fat Asian Chick: Yo get a picture of me wit McLovin'
Christopher Mintz-Plasse: Please stop calling me that
[Fat Asian Chick's Equally Fat Sister snaps a picture. She shows it to Fat Asian Chick on the digital camera's LCD screen]
Fat Asian Chick: Let's get one more. Come on McLovin', smile in this one!
Christopher Mintz-Plasse: My name is Christopher!
[Fat Asian Chick's Equally Fat Sister snaps another picture. She shows it to Fat Asian Chick]
Fat Asian Chick: Eh, that'll do. But yo McLovin', you could've at least flashed some teeth. [turning to her sister] Looks like they're running out of Patron - let's down some before it's all gone!
[Fat Asian Chick and her sister waddle off to the bar, leaving Christopher Mintz-Plasse alone]
Christopher Mintz-Plasse (sighing): Why do I keep doing this to myself?
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