A Thousand Things That Piss Me Off (Part 13)
July 2nd, 2008255. People who fret about the number thirteen just because they think it’s unlucky. Much of the reason for this is because there were thirteen people at the Last Supper, and Judas was supposedly the thirteenth person to take his seat. Now, I’m no theologian, but I know that God’s an omnipotent being who sent His only son down to Earth specifically to die for the sins of humankind. So doesn’t associating the Crucifixion with bad luck suggest that things didn’t work out the way God planned? I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty blasphemous. Maybe all the “bad luck” these people have been having is just God going to town on all the doubters.
256. Look, you can’t just call the thirteenth floor of your building, the thirteenth house on your street, or the thirteenth row of your airplane the fourteenth. Not only are you not fooling anyone, but you’re defeating the very purpose of numbers. If Descartes was right, and God is a watchmaker, then you’re really just adding insult to injury.
257. How many times are we supposed to believe that a mentally disabled boy in a hockey mask can rise from the dead to kill yet another batch of horny teenagers?
258. Zombies as a comedy crutch. For every Shaun of the Dead or Evil Dead: The Musical, there are hundreds of uninspired wastes of time in which zombies are the supposedly wacky twist. It’s been done to death for so long that there’s no more room in Comedy Hell.
259. 3 Musketeers. What the hell does this disgusting candy bar have to do with swashbuckling?
260. Canada celebrated its hundred and forty-first birthday this week, and that’s gotten a lot of people talking about our patriotism. If they’re actually saying that we love our country and we’re willing to make sacrifices for it, and not just that we like to yell and scream about doing whatever the guy in charge says we should do, then great. In fact, let’s celebrate that with yet another self-conscious game of Judge the Americans and Their Ridiculous Orwellian Habit of Using Words to Mean the Exact Opposite of What They Really Mean.
261. By the way, that’s easily the weirdest name for a board game since Stratego. Talk about a name that isn’t even a word!
262. Fireworks. Damn it, I’m trying to watch an episode of South Park that I’ve already seen about twenty or thirty times!
263. Political partisanship, at least in the sense of feeling like you’ve got to check with the group before you know where you stand on an issue. If you’re an adult, then you can probably get away with thinking for yourself and expressing your own opinions.
264. If you ever want to hear a long, boring, pointless story, then spend some time with a toddler. Get to the point, little man!
265. Male models. All of the objectification of the human body to sell a product that nobody needs, with none of the simple pleasure of looking at a pretty woman.
266. Getting caught by a pretty woman in the act of checking her out.
267. Getting caught in the act by her boyfriend.
268. No, wait, getting caught by your girlfriend.
269. Have you ever done a double take at a really attractive mannequin? Because that’ll make you feel like a pervert.
270. Why are there so many beer commercials full of frat boys gawking at half-naked bimbos? Do they think I’m one of these guys just because I like beer? I can’t decide whether this offends me more as a sensitive modern man or as a drinker.
271. All right, I’m not going to cry when Kevin Costner asks his dad if he wants to have a catch. I know I’ve cried every other time, but this time it’s going to be different. I know it’s coming up, and I’m ready for it, because it’s just… Damn it, I hate this movie! Every single time! Why can’t I find that kind of redemption? Oh, God, hold me!
272. I hurt my hand pretty badly playing Rock Band the other night. My fingertips are covered in cuts and blisters. I think I’ve got a bad case of Rock Band Hand.
273. Some people like to have loud conversations on their mobile phone while they’re in line at the post office. Some people like to pace around the room while they talk. Some people like to spray a cloud of perfume on themselves even though there’s a random guy standing right behind them. I met a woman this week who likes to do all three, and guess what? She sucks.
274. In a related story, I recently spent an entire afternoon smelling like a French prostitute.
275. Can you believe I’ve been shooting my mouth off for nearly three months now, and Bill O’Reilly’s name hasn’t come up once? Doesn’t that seem like it would have been an easy and obvious place to start? I really feel like I dropped the ball on that one. So just for the record, Bill O’Reilly’s a clown. He’s the biggest clown in town. He’s got no more right to call himself a journalist than I’ve got to call myself an invisble wolfman. Hey, let’s shoot him into the heart of the sun!