Check it, Peons: Your CNN Humiliation Compartmentalized

Tuesday, January 29, 2008


Always on the lookout for the next best thing (yet somehow never making a profit) I've come up with yet another stellar marketing idea: Grocery Store Rock Anthems.

During my years of food shopping experience, I've noticed that there are certain grocery store music staples that never go away. These songs are mellow, non-threatening and presumably help the shopper feel calm yet just a tad... jazzy as they select pork chops and laundry detergent. I'm not sure what types of tests were conducted, but it is astonishing how the same songs are routinely played over and over. These staples include such hits as "Sweet Love" by Anita Baker, "Get Out Of My Dreams" (Get into my Car) by Billy Ocean and anything by Phil Collins.

Admittedly, these songs are also inevitably played at generic midtown diners and low-rent department stores.

Now, while I genuinely dislike the bulk of these songs, there are a few exceptions that I can tolerate. Some I even get excited about. I will be in mid-squeeze of a cantaloupe, mid-inspection of a rump roast and start to grin when I hear them.
Unafraid of the chiding that could ensue, here's a sampling of the songs that get my toes tapping on the grocery store linoleum:

1. "Maggie May" by Rod Stewart
2. "Tempted" by Squeeze
3. "Brass In Pocket" by the Pretenders
4. "Vision of Love" by Mariah Carey
5. Almost anything by Hall and Oates

Grocery Store Rock Anthems of the future:
Anything by Keane, who really are the heir apparent to Christopher Cross.

If you feel like helping me compile the Greatest Hits of Grocery Store Rock, why, feel free. With any luck, this could turn into a Late Night Infomercial!

Sunday, January 27, 2008


Which southern fried CNN personality had a problem with her "Aunt Flow" and her cash flow? Turns out she wound up asking a tour guide to buy her a tampon while she was stuck in a CNN Center bathroom stall. The tour guide obliged...but was never compensated.
Sure it was only a couple bucks. And I know Elizabeth wasn't there to help you. But friend, couldn't you have been a little sweeter to a minimum wage employee?

Friday, January 25, 2008


Just turn on your TV or open a paper and it's obvious that we are immersed in a heady swarm of political posturing. So now I urge all you residents of Virginia--let your voices be heard!
Prepare to be politically outraged:

"RICHMOND, Va. - If you're served a pitcher of authentic sangria in a Virginia restaurant, someone's breaking the law. Since 1934, the state has prohibited mixing wine or beer with spirits. Frances McDonald, vice president of La Tasca Spanish Tapas Bar and Restaurants, found that out the hard way when his Alexandria location was cited for violating the sangria ban in 2006 and fined $2,000. McDonald and managing partner Shana McKillop appealed their case to the Alcoholic Beverage Control Board on Thursday before going to the Capitol to urge legislators to pass a bill legalizing the red wine, liqueur and fruit concoction.
McDonald said his business received no warning about the ban. He said he was unaware of the prohibition and had he known about it would not have located any of his five restaurants in Virginia. "It's like not being able to serve tequila in a Mexican restaurant," he said.
The Alcoholic Beverage Control Department agent who cited La Tasca even ordered restaurant employees to pour its sangria — about 40 liters — down the drain, said Shana McKillop, managing partner at the Alexandria restaurant.
A ruling on the La Tasca's appeal should take two to four weeks, said Kristy Marshall, a spokeswoman for the ABC Department. In the meantime, the restaurant has taken to modifying its sangria recipe. The brandy has been eliminated and the triple sec replaced with a nonalcoholic orange liqueur..."

This is an abomination! This so called "law" behooves no one. I demand justice for the sangria drinkers of Virginia. Someone has to stand up for them. Damn it, we should not stand idly by and watch them be discriminated against like this.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


Here I am, calmly enjoying last night's pasta ala vodka for breakfast, listening to salsa music, when suddenly I come across this article from The Associated Press:

"MADISON, Wis. - Repeated discoveries of human feces in clothing and other items left in an apartment building's basement laundry room led to charges Thursday against a 19-year-old man. Authorities said Ronnie A. Ballard was arrested after a woman whose laundry had been soiled chased him back to his apartment in an adjoining building.

Residents also reported finding feces in shoes and boots in an apartment hallway and in washing machines where it soiled a comforter, baby clothes and other items that had to be thrown out.

Ballard was charged with three counts of disorderly conduct, three counts of criminal damage to property and one count of bail jumping. Court records showed he also is facing charges of lewd and lascivious behavior in Waukesha and Lincoln counties."

First off-
Kudos to the woman who chased this guy back to his apartment! Lady, you are a superior crime stopper. That's commitment! I guess poopy laundry will put a spring in your step.

But secondly-
How does this happen? At what point does a person decide to wake up, get a cup of bowel churning McDonald's coffee and poop in his neighbor's shoes?

Sunday, January 20, 2008


I was on the subway yesterday, when I saw a slender, bird like man sporting Jamie Lee Curtis' circa 1984 haircut and a floppy suit jacket.
I thought, "Damn if that man doesn't look like a lesbian."
Then I decided to make a mental list of other men who look like lesbians.
The list went something like this:

1. Paul McCartney (during the Dana Carvey impersonation era)
2. Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon 3
3. Clay Aiken
4. Morally Outraged Newsman John Gibson
5. The Members of Air Supply

Note: The members of Air Supply are now hosting late night infomericals for "Time Life's Soft Rock Collection". (Not sure how many of you know this about me, but I fucking love those music infomercials. I will sit through the entire infomercial, enraptured by the sheer creep factor of certain rock stars from bygone eras. Be forewarned: If you come to my place and a music infomercial comes on-you will be forced to watch it too.)

After my subway experience, my head was spinning with images of men who look like lesbians. Thus, I came home to write a blog post. (I'd like to point out that Obama's head speech writer is only 26. Yet he's writing speeches for a ground-breaking presidential candidate, and I'm writing a blog post about men who look like lesbians.)

Anyway, I suddenly remembered this website:
MEN WHO LOOK LIKE KENNY ROGERS and wondered if there was a similar site for these lesbianic looking men.
And there is!
And it's fantastic!
Check it out:

Friday, January 18, 2008


Yesterday I called my parents' house. My Dad and I don't usually talk much. He usually makes a comment about the weather and then hands the phone off to my mom. I love him, but since I'm not a doctor or a hockey enthusiast like he is, our conversational material is limited.
But yesterday, our conversation went like this:

"Hi Dad."
"Hi Kid. I'll tell ya, I've been rethinking my theory on the Human Papilloma Virus. I think it stems from the smegma of uncircumcised men. Women have unprotected sex with uncircumcised men, and are exposed to it. Smegma is the link. Huh. Well, here's your mom. (Shouts in the distance) Honey! The Kid's on the phone!"

In all honesty, I did not even know that "smegma" was a medical term. I certainly did not wish to hear that word so early in the morning...from my Dad.
I think this is why I have a hard time buying him a Father's Day card. They all have sweet pictures of a jolly Dad on a fishing boat, or playing golf or pushing his daughter on the swing set.
I've looked, but none of them have a balding man in a velour track suit, swearing at the hockey game on TV, eating canned soup and talking to his kid about smegma theories.

Thursday, January 17, 2008


Due to sheer linguistic laziness, there are several expressions that have been overused to the point of parody. Now the only way these expressions can be uttered is in jest. But the problem is that even in jest they are stale. These are often the "go to" office witticisms. When someone uses them, I want to leap up, grab the nearest stapler and staple their ass shut.
Why the ass and not the mouth? Because this would serve two purposes:

A. They'd stop trying to be funny, as they'd be in pain
B. Seeing a stapled ass (possibly encased in Dockers) would actually make me laugh, unlike their recycled humor

Some of these offending expressions include:

1. "I don't even KNOW you anymore."

2. "How's that workin' for ya?" (Okay-this one is purely Dr. Phil's fault.)

3. "I LOVE you, man."

4. "I just need some ME time, you know?"

5. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." (People who still think this is funny should be shot, then have their asses stapled shut.)

6. "You're DEAD to me!"

7. "You ROCK!"

Any others? I know I'm missing quite a few irritants...

Wednesday, January 16, 2008


Which CNN talking head, known more for a winning smile than knowledge of facts and figures, went to the bathroom during the show and forgot to take off their microphone pack.
Consequently, it fell into the toilet.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008


I took a break from reading serious blogs about serious political issues and discovered something quite appalling:
Somewhere deep in Carthage, Missouri, there is a Precious Moments Theme Park. I have always been repulsed by those creepy, big-eyed porcelain figurines that are coveted by sweat suited hausfraus across the nation. They all have titles like "Mom, You Are a Bouquet of Understanding" or "A Sprinkle on a Sunny Day is So Refreshing" or "Grandma's Love is One Size Fits All".
And this shit is EXPENSIVE! I had no idea. As for the little fella in the pic above-with that jaunty pose he should be called "Patriotically Skipping to Elton John's House".
The point is, I am amazed that there is theme park for these disturbing creatures. And by the looks of it, many fat, dull, white folks enjoy making the pilgrimage to Carthage, Missouri to experience the Precious splendor of it all. Do yourself a favor and click on the link. They have a replica of the Sistine Chapel-but with those scary Precious Moments kids on the ceiling instead of Michelangelo's gorgeous paintings.
I found all of this so fascinating that I...I...I...signed up to get my weekly Precious Moments Inspirational Quote!
However, so far, I have received nothing. Am I not worthy? Just because I don't have an oak curio cabinet from Rooms To Go filled with Precious Moments figurines is no reason to deny me my inspirational quote. In fact, just to show how committed I am to the cause, I came up with five new Precious Moments figurine ideas:

1. Mom, Just Because You're Really, Really Fat Doesn't Mean I Don't Love You

2. Morning Poops Make Me Smile

3. A Sister Is A Precious Friend, Even If You've Fucked Her Husband

4. Boners are Precious

5. Count Your Blessings, Because I'm About To Sue Your Ass

Monday, January 07, 2008


Just when I thought all hope was lost, we finally have a winner for the Name That Peon Contest!
Yes, a Peon Confidential reader known as "Lou Waters' Turquoise Ring" successfully figured out who the lucky, lucky fellow was posing with Charo.
Your Mama D's Arts Bordello t-shirt is on its way...

Friday, January 04, 2008


Just read this from the Associated Press:

"NEW DELHI - A northern Indian state said Thursday it planned to use unemployed youths to sterilize monkeys to try to combat aggressive primates who have been raiding farms."

This is mildly upsetting. In fact, I feel very grateful that we live in a country where as an unemployed youth I was able to spend my time doing things such as:

1. Raiding the attic for my mom's disco jumpsuits. Then putting on these disco jumpsuits and pretending to be on Broadway, as I belted out "There's No Business Like Show Business" in the bathroom. The acoustics and mirror in there were excellent.

2. Playing endless games of Life, Connect Four, Stratego, and Clue with pals. Of course, I would always demand to be Miss Scarlett, because she was so glamorous. Occasionally, I had to fight for this honor. Once I got stuck being Colonel Mustard. This was unacceptable. A fat fuck with a bad mustache was no match for Miss Scarlett's long cigarette holder.

3. Putting bunched up pillow cases down the back of my pants, thereby creating a massive, bouncing ass and dancing to George Michael's classic "I Want Your Sex".

4. Prank calling teachers, back when there was no Caller ID.

5. Mooning unsuspecting tourists who were returning from magical, quaint Whidbey Island while we were waiting for the Mukilteo ferry.

The point is, as unemployed youths, no one had to sterilize any monkeys.
Three cheers for the Red White and Blue!

Wednesday, January 02, 2008


Tragedy has struck:
There is no winner for the Name That Peon contest.
This is most upsetting, so I will not dwell upon it. I wanted to give out a t-shirt, thereby garnering publicity for Mama D's and offering a gym t-shirt for someone else.
Alas, it was not meant to be.

I was talking to a former CNNer the other night, and I came to a truly fascinating conclusion:
My bowels prefer their home base toilet.
It's true.
It's as though they have Toilet GPS. They know! Only my own toilet will do.
When I am on vacation--I will be stopped up for days.
When I am at work--never happens.
At a friend's house--no way.
The only other place my bowels will accept is the Lord and Taylor bathroom on 5th Avenue.
How fortunate this is for Lord and Taylor! It's like they won the lottery.
But does any one else have this problem?

I wonder if Al Gore is pleased to know that his invention has spawned discussion about Toilet GPS...

Happy New Year, by the way.