The Doctor's Guide To Chicks

Follow this link to find out all you really need to know about how to deal with women. It's especially good for those of you out there who are just starting a relationship, and you need to establish a few rules.

Oh...and the good Dr. had the joy of seeing this woman in person today.

Yeah, Julianne Hough is really hot. But she's leaving "Dancing With The Stars" giving heterosexual men no reason whatsoever to watch that show. She did it to pursue other careers, like acting. If only it were "acting" in a Skinemax movie...

The Doctor offered her a week of his salary to spend a weekend with her where clothes were not welcome and she turned him down...saying that she was "too young" for him. She's only 20...and the Doc...well...he's a little older than that. He didn't take much offense though, he wasn't looking at her face when she told him that. The only bad thing about her is that she was born in Utah...so you have to wonder just how much fun she can be, especially if you can't get her drunk.

And as the Doctor gazes across the "pond" known to many as the Atlantic Ocean, he has spotted this hottie with 34E cans that he hopes makes her way over to this country soon. Her name is....well...does it matter? I guess it does...it's Gemma Atkinson...and yeah, she has some talent, eh?

So if someone who reads this can provide a Visa for her to come to this country....please do. You'll be doing everyone a big service.

Bang, bang, bang!

Just In Case You Needed Clarification...

....this is considered "gay."



And this is not gay.



Any questions?

Soon We'll All Be Nailin' Palin!

Well you just knew it was coming, right?

Sarah Palin might be a right-wing whack job, but she's attractive (and actually she's smoking hot when you compare her to all other women who hold political office). Now she will be immortalized, win or lose, when she will be starring in her own porno!

Well, she won't be, but porn star Lisa Ann will be.

Sometime before the November election, 36-year-old MILF actress Lisa Ann will be sporting some black-rimmed glasses, putting her hair in an up-do, and will be showing off what have to be some of the biggest cans around in the soon-to-be-nominated for an AVN Award flick, "Nailin' Paylin."

In the movie, Sarah will be banging Russians who come knocking on her front door, and in a flasback sequence, Sarah will be doing one of her professors as he explains the, "Big Bang Theory." Also, for those who really love the ladies, expect a lesbian scene with Sarah, Hillary, and Condi (fortunately, not the real Hillary and Condi. Who would buy/download that?). Rumor has it porn veteran Nina Hartley will play Hillary. Imagine if that were true in real life, Bill would love that!

This might be the only time where I was interested in what a politican looked like naked before I cast my ballot.

Here's a video preview for all to enjoy (and yes, it's clean).

The Doctor & Red Man: Growing Apart?

I was interrupted from watching a "Baby Einstein" video with my daughter this past Saturday by a call from none other than the Red Man. We never talk on the weekends so I figured this had to be important. He asked me a question that, at the time, I didn't think much of, but in retrospect, it could change the course of our long-standing friendship.

"Would you mind if I left Sprint?"

This might seem to be a harmless question, but it isn't. The foundation of our cross-continental friendship has been free phone calls to one another on a weekly basis because we both have Sprint for our cellular phone carrier. Although I had made several threats that I was going to Verizon once my contract expired in December, it was the Red Man who was about to draw first blood.

"No, why would I care?"

The Red Man, technology-nerd that he is, went the AT&T route, selling his soul to buy an iPhone. By doing so, he has left the Doctor and his Sprint phone in the dust, pondering just how many anytime minutes he has left to keep his friendship alive.

We could have remained as cool as the Sprint pitchman on the left, but Red had to change it up, and now the Doctor is wondering if the weekly phone calls can continue. We're talking another 30-45 of my "anytime" minutes here! What used to be free phone calls now will have the sound of a meter running.

The future of our phone conversations looks bleak...no more calls dissecting the Red Sox's chances of winning the World Series. No more political debates. No more long-winded discussions of the lying, cheating Bill Belichick. Our calls will soon evolve into a simple exchange of pleasantries and the polite, "How's the weather" question. And for what? The Red Man has put his friendship on the line over a damn iPhone! Burn in hell, Steve Jobs. I'm glad Bill Gates stole your ideas.

On second thought...is it wrong to blame Apple for this apocalypse? The jury is out, check back in a couple of months when the phone calls have dried up, or the Doctor has shelled out every last nickel to his name because he went over his allotted anytime minutes.

A couple of quick notes that have recently come to the good Doctor's attention that are worth mentioning.

Facebook is awesome, much better and more addicting than MySpace. You may recall a blog I wrote about Caterina (Cathy) Mete, a "Wiggles" dancer the Doc had the hots for. Well she's on Facebook and this picture was downloaded by the Doc to show you just how smoking she is out of her red jacket and black pants. The doctor did send her a love note, inviting her to L.A. without her fellow dancers, but so far, no response. Although we are expecting something from her attorney in the mail though. Something that had the words "cease" and "desist" and "500 feet" in it. Not sure what that's all about. Regardles....

Hubba hubba as one fellow blogger might say.

Not sure if anyone watched the Emmy's or not (this past show was the lowest rated one in the show's history, so probably nobody who reads this blog tuned in) but I saw two good reasons to watch the AMC show, "Mad Men."



The charming woman on the right is Christina Hendricks (no relation to Ted as far as I know). She takes the word "buxom" to a whole 'nother level. And those guns look real folks. She's 30, and apparently still single. So the Doc is hoping for a nice get together with Miss. Mete and Miss Hendricks someday. Clothing, prophylactics, and morals will be optional.

And then he might not care about the fucking iPhone.

Suicide Watch in Boston

Well now that Tom Brady's knee went snap and the chances of the Pats winning more than 7 games is out the window, it's probably time we explored what happens when karma catches up to cheaters.

1. You lose a 1st round draft pick in a deep draft.
2. You pay a hefty fine to the league.
3. You lose the Super Bowl to a team that you were heavily favored to beat.
4. Your franchise QB blows out a knee in the first game of the year, and is out for the season.

All of this because Bill Belichick lacks integrity, and the smarts, to win on the up and up. Karma's a bitch, eh Fuhrer Bill?

And now....some video of what Pats fans all did after Brady's ACL snapped like a brittle twig.

The Prids

On a recent trip to Portland, OR, my librarians and I were sitting in a bar when we met Maile, the keyboard player, and newest member of the Prids. We had a wonderful time hanging out with her and her friends, sharing drinks and talking Punk Rock. Maile is several years younger then my crowd, but Punk Rock unites! To quote our heroine of this particular post, "I don't care that you guys are old, you are totally cool." Believe me Maile, we'll take the compliment. We think you're pretty neat too.

Maile was totally excited about a California tour that was going to start later that week, and was trying to convince my Bay Area librarians to see their show. Unfortunately I was shocked to find out that the tour was cut short by a horrible accident, as their van blew a tire and they were all injured to various degrees. Rumor has it that they have all survived and have been released from the hospital, thank Christ. But, as is often the case, kids in bands don't have health insurance, and these kids have some serious injuries. So, I ask you to consider visiting their website theprids.com. There you will find a link to donate, to help with medical expenses. I was heartened to find that there are kids like Maile to keep punk rock alive for her generation, as well as us old farts. So, I'm donating.

And Maile, I think I can speak for my librarians when I say we all loved meeting you, we all hope you get better soon, and keep rockin out.

Love,
Z

PS - The attached video of the Prids is prior to Maile's tenure in the band, but ironicaly and surprisingly features an old college friend of mine dancing in the video. He's the guy after the blond, following the two punks slamming.

You Won't Find This On The SAT Verbal List

While bored here at work I chose to waste some company money and look up one of the International House of Pancakes' most famous meal in the urban dictionary.

Doesn't everyone do this during their spare time?

Many of you have probably dined at an IHOP (that's what the cool people call it, so we'll run with that here) and have enjoyed the "Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity" breakfast. The breakfast includes two fluffy buttermilk pancakes with a choice of strawberry, apple cinnamon, or blueberry fruit topping and crowned with creamy whipped topping. Occasionally, the "Super Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity" is available with the guest's choice of a regular, big or jumbo combo with all the favorites, including eggs, bacon, sausage and crisp hash browns.

And while this definition is perfectly acceptable, the urban dictionary has come up with a few more:

It says the "Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity" is:

1. A sex act where you ejaculate onto a woman's breasts, then hit her in the face with a waffle iron.
2. A sex act where you fuck a chick in the ass from the front, while rhythmically hitting her in the face with a waffle iron.

Wow!

And if that isn't enough for you, our beloved breakfast has morphed into an explanation of, an extra gay dude who is flamboyant, wiggles his butt, and has the trademark "girly" voice. He thrives on old disco tunes, Lifetime Television, and fantasies involving David Hasselhoff, Ethan Hawke, or Brad Pitt.

Now I don't have a picture of any of the other definitions (although some of the other contributors to this blog might on their computers), but I figure you can use your imaginations.

Eat up!

Meet The Boys Behind IDM!

In case any of you, our loyal and dear readers, wanted to know what we all looked like....here's a photo taken at the Red Man's nuptials about a year ago. Now you can put faces to the work that you enjoy so much.

Enjoy!
Z is on the left wearing the leather jacket and long sideburns.
Red Man is wearing that zoned out look that he perfected in law school. Read the actual comparison to his alter ego here.
The good Doctor is standing in the back, trying to hold the whole thing together (in the photo and on this blog).
And finally, R-Lo is on the right, with the goofy grin.

And if you want to see us in action, check out this music video we starred in! It's hot!

Family Guy Hall of Fame

Mcconaughey! Need I say more?

-TRM

The Most Dangerous Game

The Most Dangerous Game (1999 DVD)
Directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack and Irving Pichel
USA, 1932
In English

I hadn't seen this movie since I was a kid, but I became super interested in seeing it again after it was mentioned a couple of times in David Fincher's riveting 2007 true crime epic Zodiac. Oft considered something of a dress rehearsal for King Kong both because of the people involved and its use of that cool Kong set, The Most Dangerous Game takes a genuinely creepy idea--man hunting man for sport--from Richard Connell's prize-winning short story, throws in some creaky anthropological observations about civilization and savages, and then milks the subject for all the entertainment value it's worth. Joel McCrea is OK in his starring role as American sportsman-turned-survivalist Bob Rainsford and Fay Wray is sufficiently swoon-worthy as the damsel in distress/jungle eye candy Eve Trowbridge, but it's Leslie Banks' crazy Count Zaroff who gets all the juicy lines and close-ups in this game of island bloodsport he memorably equates with a round of "outdoor chess." To my surprise, the film provides way more of an adrenaline rush than I'd ever remembered: a lean 63 minutes of thrills and adventure that'll make you pity anybody who's ever had to suffer through a Lucas or Spielberg movie at nearly twice that length. But I digress. (http://www.criterion.com/)

A rarely-seen still in which R-Lo comforts Fay Wray and hopes his wife doesn't find out about it!

Sick and Twisted's Best

Dear Readers,

If you've never seen these two videos of Don Hertzfeldt's classic animation shorts, you can thank me for posting them here today. I have a feeling that those of you who have seen these will be thanking me for adding them to the site as well.

Enjoy!

-TRM

You Sucked Mr. Peabody's Cock-Pitcher?

Dear Doctor,

It doesn't take a professional reading your rorschach test results to figure out what you'd like for your birthday. Too bad it isn't legal in this country, and you're too much of a xenophobe to venture outside. Amazingly, I could probably recommend a few David Lynch films to satisfy your primal needs, but you'd be too pent up to rent them. Perhaps we can have them sent in a plain brown wrapper.

For the rest of us, I suggest the diversion of watching a moose pull a rabbit out of a hat.

-TRM

Return to Gumbology

Dear Readers,

I'd like to add another chapter to the Gumby family legacy. Tonight instead of bringing you fetish-related material featuring huge fake boobs, a giant rapping, or a midget fucking (did I really have to connect the dots here?) -- I'd like to cut the tension a bit by bringing you Spamby. The cute hunk of meat that also substitutes as a slimy toy. No word on who its parents are.

-TRM

After Further Review -- No Stigmata

Dear Readers,

Carlin, in a dream, told me to come out of retirement again, and let you know that there is no fucking afterlife. The man was a modern day Jesus, and most of you wanted to censor him. So I dedicate this blog to the man who brought the oxymoron military intelligence to our attention and that he wouldn't fuck Dan Quayle's wife with a stolen dick (I'll let the hippy dippy weatherman slide). May he forever remind us of how fucked up we all are.

Sincerely,

TRM - on hour number seven of a thirteen hour HBO Carlin marathon -- I can't wait to see how it turns out!

The Apocalypse is Coming! The Apocalypse is Coming!

I know what you're thinking....what could possibly inspire the good Doctor to write such a headline? What could be happening that would make one think that the headline is true?

No, Z's Buffalo teams have not won a championship.
No, R-Load hasn't written an interesting blog.
No, Red Man has done nothing to distance himself from his George Costanza persona.

Verne Troyer, also known as "Mini Me" in the three 'Austin Powers' movies has released a sex tape.

I have a feeling that the three guys mentioned above might be pooling their paychecks this weekend to buy a copy, and perhaps if they're nice enough, they'll burn a DVD for the Doc and ship it to L.A.

Since you might not believe that this is truly happening, here's a sampling.

Watch at your own risk!

Kobe, Tell Me How My Ass Tastes

Excuse me while I whip this out.

For those of you who don't follow sports (like R-Load, who enjoys sitting around watching silent films with his fingers tickling his ass), here is a rap that was released this week that you might find half as interesting as the Red Man's "poignant" comments on this blog.

Since a couple of the contributors to this blog live in Boston, and another lives in L.A., we're aware that the Celtics beat the Lakers to win their seventeenth NBA championship. Kobe Bryant, the league's MVP, didn't have a great series for the Lakers who were making their first trip to the finals since 2004.

Meanwhile, back in 2006 Shaquille O'Neal and the Miami Heat won the NBA title. Shaq has four rings, Kobe has three (all won while playing with Shaq on the Lakers).

Since their acrimonious departure, Shaq has won one NBA title, Kobe has zero. So Shaq felt the urge to hop up on a stage somewhere and freestyle rap about that. He claims to have done this in jest, but considering how the two guys didn't like one another all that much when they were teammates, it's hard to believe him. Put it this way, it would be like Leo and Ron Gallagher making peace and hitting the road together.

Have a listen.

Top 10 Reasons that I Have not Blogged Lately

10) I had a hangnail.
9) RLo is mean.
8) I see red when I see you.
7) Vertigo (the condition, not the movie).
6) Busy season at work.
5) Kucinich dropped out.
4) My IPod broke.
3) The dog ate my homework.
2) My favorite blogging shirt got ruined in the flood.
1) I was actually having sex with a live woman.

Reasons I'm back.

10) Cuticle scissors
9) RLo is mean.
8) It's 5 passed 2.
7) Vertigo (the movie, not the condition)
6) I hate my job.
5) Kucinich filed 38 articles of impeachment against Bush.
4) ITouch baby!
3) Coyotes in my yard.
2) Going el fresco!
1) Forced to go back online, yet again...poker anyone?

Don't piss me off.
Z

A Cottage on Dartmoor

A Cottage on Dartmoor (2007 DVD)
Directed by Anthony Asquith
UK, 1929
Silent with English intertitles

Although it's probably only a matter of time before fun nazi/jingoistic xenophobe Dr. Demented starts his usual bitching and moaning about never even having heard of this movie before (apparently the good Doktor limits his "film research" to waiting for recommendations from The View and/or pining for his idol Rex Reed), the more cinematically adventurous among you are invited to read on for a few words in praise of this early British thriller. While deemed "Hitchcockian" by more than a couple of online pogues, A Cottage on Dartmoor actually seems to have its own take on the manhunt-for-an-escaped-convict-on-the-lam genre that Sir Alfred almost singlehandedly made famous among the fish-and-chips eating peoples of the world. The story is told in flashback after barber Joe (Uno Henning) falls in love with but is then dissed by his lovely coworker Sally (Norah Baring, a cutie), leading to an unfortunate "accident" involving Sally's new fiancé (Hans Adalbert Schlettow) and a straight razor (played by itself) that's held to his throat a tad too closely. Asquith's visual style (featuring paired shots dissolving into each other and juxtapositions of barbershop chatter about sports with location shots taken at different sporting events) and sense of mischievousness (Joe's silent movie path down the slippery slope of terminal stalkerdom begins when Sally goes on a date to a "talkie" filled with Embassy Cinema-like bluehairs and a bigtime snorer like Z in attendance) keep you guessing where things will lead next, a nice surprise considering how many 21st century tales of jealousy and revenge have their outcomes given away in the course of the fucking trailer. Nice. (http://www.kino.com/)

The Short and the Short of It

Dear Readers,

It has come to my attention that fake youngster and real life security guard, Gary Coleman, is looking to settle his marital woes on TV's Divorce Court. So, this poses an important question -- Divorce Court is still on TV? I guess the Coleman's were saving this little nugget for sweeps, which led seemingly normal columnists from Salt Lake City to brand this marriage a sham. As if they've never seen any abhorrent marital practices out there before. That's a little screwy, eh? Even more outrageous, Coleman still claims he's a virgin -- as if that's not the oldest trick in the book. Nothing beats a pity lay, right Gary?

My suggestion GC-- start hanging with Michael Jackson. You were meant for each other.

-TRM

Strat-O-Magic: Who's The Real Pitcher

Dear Readers,

That's right, the original Red Man is back from retirement to put DD in his proverbial place by throwing strikes with the biggest cock pitcher known to man. The sheer volume of liquid this jug holds puts all artificially enhanced bimbos to shame. You should have known better than to post like you're leaning into a pitch and instead ask for a demotion to little league because this hurler owns you.

-TRM

*Photo courtesy of the Maltese-esque high school crime drama Brick, which earned an R-Lo "super-good" rating back in 2006.

Two Pitchers of Milk, Please!

I'm not a religious man, but Jesus Christ, Praise be Allah and Baruch Atah Adonai!

This woman's name is Sheyla Hershey, and she's a 28-year-old MILF who lives near Houston, Texas (proving that many things are indeed, bigger in Texas). She's in the Brazilian Guinness Book of World Records thanks to her pair of 34 FFF funbags that are...hard to not notice.

She has two quarts of silicone in each breast, or 1,000 cc's for you medical types out there.

“I want to look better each day, every day,” the 28-year-old model said. “Everybody’s got a dream inside, you know? And, it’s good when you can make your dream come true.”

Hershey said she would like her breasts to be even bigger, but the state of Texas limits the amount of silicone that can be put into each breast. And so it seems that eight surgeries won't be enough for her.

And so we here at the Intravenus de Milo blog say, "Go for it Sheyla! Don't let anyone get in the way of your dreams. Because if they do, just shake those cans in their face and they'll bounce right out of your path."

Happy motorboating everyone!

Happy Anniversary, Lee Elia!

This past Tuesday marked the 25th anniversary of one of the greatest, expletive-laden rants in the history of sports.

On April 29th, 1983 the Chicago Cubs lost their 14th game of the season, to go with only five wins. Their manager, Lee Elia, blew his stack to post-game reporters.



Here's another great rant by former Indianapolis Colts coach Jim Mora, who was relieved of his coaching duties not long after he uncorked this gem.



And former Arizona Cardinals head coach Dennis Green says that the Chicago Bears are who they thought they were.

German Expressionism Collection #2

The Hands of Orlac (2008 DVD)
Directed by Robert Wiene
Austria, 1924

Until recently unknown to all but hep People's Enlightenment and Propaganda minister Doktor Demented and the other Access Hollywood enthusiasts in his immediate family, The Hands of Orlac was actually the prototype for the psycho-sexual subgenre in which an acclaimed concert pianist loses both hands in a horrific accident, gets new mitts transplanted from a recently-executed murderer's corpse, and then suffers bad thoughts and spectral visitations galore when he realizes that he can't mack on his special lady friend with non-criminal paws anymore. If not quite as "writhing with sexual innuendo and Freudian imagery" as the good folks at Kino promise, der DVD is still an eminently watchable genre film with a couple of cool characters (incl. one walking around with a visible guillotine wound across his throat!) and a spectacular night-time train wreck scene seemingly shot by torchlight (take that, modern special effects whizzes!). As an added bonus, Herr Conrad Veidt's unfortunately-coiffed, reptilian Orlac never once mentions either Orny Adams or David Cross despite line after line of sexually-ambiguous "dialogue." (http://www.kino.com/)

The trailer for 1935's Orlac-inspired Mad Love.

This Dude Is Nails When It Comes To Money

I recall several years ago when I worked at Fox Sports when a former New York Met legend was on Jim Rome's TV show. Unlike most sports celebrities who walked in and out of the building, this guy had no entourage and when he stood outside of the building waiting for his limo to pick him up, nobody was standing with him. Armed with a pen and paper and a desire to get his autograph for The Red Man, I strolled outside and approached this man, who was crouching down out of the wind, lighting a cigarette.

"Hey Nails! How about an autograph? "

This World Series champion looked up at me, blew out some smoke and said, "Sure."

That was my only experience interacting with Leonard Kyle Dykstra, known as "Lenny" to many. But for those who know him, calling him by his nicknames of "Nails" or "The Dude" is acceptable. Check out his baseball stats here to refresh your memory of his late 80's, early 90's, steroid-enhanced numbers. As you can see, Lenny loved to chew, in fact, Pittsburgh Pirates center-fielder Andy Van Slyke often called the outfield a "toxic waste dump" when he played against Dykstra's teams.

But this blog isn't about his numbers, but more about his fighting attitude. It seems that when Lenny hung up his cleats in 1998 his investment adviser didn't do right by him, and so Nails lost a ton of dough in the stock market. And that's where this story gets interesting.

Lenny rebuilt his fortune by purchasing car washes and is now an astute investor in the stock market. You seek advice? Find it here on this website where you can ask him a question. I just sent him one about whether it's a good idea to invest in China.

Today, Dykstra is a columnist for TheStreet.com, manages his own stock portfolio, and serves as president of several of his privately held companies, including car washes; a partnership with Castrol in "Team Dykstra" Quick Lube Centers; a real estate development company; and a new venture to develop several "I Sold It on eBay" stores throughout Southern California. Dykstra has helped bring to the forefront an investment strategy called "Deep in the Money Calls". He has also appeared on Fox News Channel's "The Cost of Freedom" business show. And he is publishing a financial magazine to help ballplayers invest their money better.

But this pales in comparison with his interview on HBO's "Real Sports With Bryant Gumbel." The idea that Dykstra is so wealthy, and can clean up to look somewhat business-like in a suit is contrasted with his grungy look he had as a player, and his liberal use of foul language. You can take the man out of the locker room, but you can't take the locker room out of the man.

German Expressionism Collection #1

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (2008 DVD)

Directed by Robert Wiene

Germany, 1919

Although I hate to interrupt our other bloggers' continuous celebration of bald comedians and hirsute Big Lebowski lookalikes, I wanted to send out a telepathic high five to anyone and everyone at Kino International for the great German Expressionism Collection four-DVD box set they just put out this month. To be honest, I've only really watched The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari so far; however, finally getting to see this silent film masterpiece Saturday after years of avoiding it for no good reason would've been worth the $59.99 price of admission all by its lonesome.

I'm not going to bother reviewing the film in depth because you can find plenty of that shite elsewhere, Jack. As many of you already know, it's a frame story about a string of killings that involves a traveling village fair, a crazed Freud-like doctor, his henchman/sleepwalking patient Cesare, and various other characters seemingly straight out of the loony bin. The anti-authoritarian action unfolds in a relatively brief and delirious 75 minutes, and I'll bet top dollar that you'll feel that you got your money's worth from both the acting (exaggerated for effect, natch) and the script (handsomely translated into a simple English that even people who date roller derby girls should be able to follow).

While silent film hottie Lil Dagover is absolutely luscious jackson in the role of the somnambulist bait, the true beauty in the film is the set itself. I don't know how much Hermann Warm, Walter Reimann, and Walter Röhrig were paid for their art direction or how much Willie Hameister earned for his cinematography, but they were all clearly tremendously underpaid. Wiene's ghostly world of odd geometric shapes, angular architecture, and beautiful shadows is truly dreamlike, and I don't mean that dimestore surrealism of modern directors who lamely try and inject "mood" into their films by putting sub-new wave crap like Oingo Boingo on their sorry-ass soundtracks. In other words, fuck Danny Elfman and the horse he rode in on and long live The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari!

( http://www.kino.com/ )

Why Garry Shandling Matters Or How To Honor Jew Comics

It's nice to see The Red Man do something with himself that didn't involve Stacy Valentine, and old sock, and a tub of Vaseline. Good going buddy! Next time you take a few weeks off from blogging, be sure you do a better job of honoring Jewish comics than throwing in two sentences about a guy who has a book that sits on your shelf, and then throw in a shitty YouTube clip. Now let's do this up right!

Jewish comic Garry Shandling is a ground-breaker, first as a writer, then as a stand-up comic, a host, and then creator of two hilarious shows. He's kind of like a Jewish Gallagher in a sense that he too helped make the cable company Showtime worth buying in the 80's.

Before Jerry Seinfeld and Orny Adams took Jewish comedy into the stratosphere, the groundwork was laid out by Shandling. He wrote an episode of "Sanford and Son" proving that he could "keep it real" with the homies and brothers who watched that wretched show. In other words, Shandling's brand of hilarity transcended color lines and religious backgrounds.

Shandling ofted filled in on "The Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson until that shegetz Jay Leno elbowed him out and eventually took over the show for good in 1992. Being the good mensch that he is, Shandling didn't get angry but simply took his comedic genius to Showtime with "It's Garry Shandling's Show" (which co-starred the underrated Michael Tucci from the famous Tucci acting family) and then he took it to Fox which aired a watered-down, cleaner version of the show. But it proved Shandling's appeal had worldwide potential.

Next stop was HBO and "The Larry Sanders Show." Garry knew a thing or two about hosting his own talk show and so it was a foregone conclusion that this would be a hit, and therefore would make it worth buying HBO. He has been nominated for several Emmys and has won his share of the coveted award as well.

Garry has accomplished all of these things, and has sported the "Jew Fro" about as well as anyone possibly could.

And so we tip our yarmulke to you, Garry Shandling, as we say mazel tov to your success and a hearty thanks for all of the laughs.

The Name Says It All

Dear R-Lo,

Are you really surprised that In the Valley of Ellah was a so-so film? The director's name says it all: Paul HAGGIS -- a Scottish dish with variable recipes, most of which have in common the following ingredients: sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately three hours.

Oddly enough, that still doesn't properly explain that shit film Crash, but it does clarify the casting of Sandra Bullock.

-TRM

Shark Sandwich or Why Google Matters Part I

Dear Readers,

What t