I cannot start this column without mentioning Kanye West’s amazing ad-lib from last week’s hurricane relief show.
If you haven’t seen it, go to http://media.putfile.com/Kanye79. Just so many layers of comedy.
Kanye nervously stumbles over his words into an incoherent rant. It was like watching a cross between Zell Miller at the RNC and a 6th grader giving a class presentation. Then there is Mike Myers’ bewildered face as he does the I’m-nervous-so-I’m-scratching-my-face move used by lying husbands everywhere as Kanye stares into the camera like a madman.
Of course, Kanye’s comment about President Bush (“George Bush doesn’t care about black people”) steals the show. But Mike Myers’ Looney Tunes double-take is a close second. And to finish, you have the cut to Chris Tucker, who gives us the face the server at Subway gives you when you elect not to add a dressing to your fresh, delicious, tasty, meaty, turkey-filled, cold-cut combo. Talk about a hole-in-one.
I hope SNL is planning a skit spoofing this. But watching SNL these days is worse than being sober at Toad’s. Head writer Tina Fey has driven the SNL Titanic right into the iceberg of her crappy writing. Hopefully things will change this season.
And that’s why I love autumn — new beginnings. A new school year, which means no work to do for at least a month. It means a two week respite from section. It means another year of logging onto iTunes and listening to other people’s music. And every year, I see that everyone has Radiohead, so I think “well maybe I’m missing something, I’ll listen to them again.”
And every time I come away unable to understand the mystique of post-OK Computer Radiohead. To me, they’ve become a glorified rave band. But maybe there’s just a big underground rave scene at Yale I don’t know about.
A new school year means high girl-to-guy ratios at the first few frat parties, because the freshman girls don’t know any better. But, it also means course packets. I always walk out of Tyco and York Copy feeling more used than Jennifer Connelly at the end of “Requiem for a Dream.”
Autumn also brings the beginning of another football season (which is much more enjoyable when you are not actually a participant). It means another season wondering if good ol’ boy Bobby Bowden takes his players back behind the woodshed when they screw-up. It means another season wishing I was Matt Leinart. It means another season wondering whether Joe Paterno is alive, or if Penn State is just pulling a huge “Weekend at Bernie’s” scam.
(Judging by PSU’s abysmal performance over the last five seasons, I’m going with the latter.)
It means another season pondering whether Tom Brady is, in fact, the Anti-Christ. It means another underachieving Steeler team, the trademark of the Bill Cowher era, probably in the form of losing the AFC championship at home. It means another attempt at besting nine of my friends in fantasy football. Speaking of which, the “Hey Kanye, way to ostracize half of your audience” Award goes to Brett Favre, for scoring a whopping negative one on my fantasy team this weekend. His game last Sunday made his performance in “There’s Something about Mary” look Oscar-worthy.
Perhaps the best part of autumn is the onslaught of fresh new seasons of your favorite TV shows to fill the void left by Entourage. But I gotta say after watching the premieres of Family Guy and The OC, I’m a little worried. Not enough Stewie and too much James Woods in Family Guy. And on The OC, the whole Tre-getting-shot thing was resolved far too quickly, even for the TV galaxy.
Plus, seeing Marissa in a bathing suit was downright scary — she looked like a frigging blow pop. What happened to season one Marissa? Why are famous hot girls intent on ruining their hotness?
The first one I can remember is Cameron Diaz. When I was 11 I saw her in “The Mask,” and she was the most beautiful thing I had every laid eyes upon. She may have been the first girl I was ever attracted to. She made these strange things happen to my body — I didn’t know what they were, but I enjoyed them.
The next time I saw Ms. Diaz, she was in “There’s Something About Mary,” (with Brett Favre) and let me tell you, no strange feelings ensued. Why? Because I could actually see her collarbone winking at me.
She set the stage for the lollipopification of the Olsen twins, Lindsay Lohan, and now Mischa Barton. So here’s what I don’t get: lollipops are not attractive. They’re not even that tasty. I’ve seen a plethora of lollipops in my life, and not once did I feel an attraction. I think I speak for most men when I say that. Somebody should tell Cameron Diaz and the rest of the Lollipop Guild that looking like a sucker sucks.
Get the president in on this. He should make a policy that allows them to get their tax refund in the form of a McDonald’s gift certificate. President Bush may not care about black people, but I guarantee Kanye will never say, “George Bush doesn’t care about lollipop people.”
That would just be silly.
Carl Williott, unlike Mischa Barton, gets better looking with the passing seasons.