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Humor
Possible captions
• They’ll let anybody work here.
• Should someone tell him there’s a Post-It note on his ass?
• That’s the guy who stole my lunch out of the refrigerator!
• …and you'll need to fill out this 401(k) application.
• I think he’s here to fix the copier.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Politics / Humor - Top Stories
During an appearance on ABC's “The View,” Barack Obama implied that his former pastor Rev. Jeremiah Wright regrets his incendiary statements. In fact, since retiring, Wright has pledged to:
• Bless a factory that manufacturers American flag lapel pins.
• Nominate the Tuskegee Syphilis Study for a long-deserved Nobel Prize in medicine.
• Criticize Rosa Parks for taking a white insurance executive’s seat on a bus.
• Thank policemen for taking an interest in his life each time they ask: “How can a black guy afford a car like this?”
• Let the world know that no man has contributed more to African American culture than Charlie Pride.
New Cuba President Raul Castro is letting citizens have cell phones, thereby allowing them to call friends and relatives to say, “Stroke, stroke, stroke.”
Mitt Romney appeared with John McCain at Republican fund-raiser in Utah. This was the hardest thing Romney has had to do since switching from Honduran to Guatemalan landscapers.
President Bush said in his Saturday radio address that his economic stimulus package will allow businesses to invest in new equipment -- like robotic child workers.
Bay State Bombast
While the Massachusetts House voted down his casino legislation, Gov. Deval Patrick traveled to New York to negotiate a $1.35 million book contract. Here are some possible places we may find him during future legislative votes:
• Clearing 200 acres of Berkshire forest for an addition to his cabana
• Test flying an Airbus A380 to replace his outdated helicopter
• Having his complimentary Emperor’s Club robe shortened
• Hanging out at his wife’s law firm during Take Your Governor to Work day
• Scouring Monster.com for his next job
Small Street Journal
Ford has sold its Jaguar and Land Rover lines to India’s Tata Motors. Tata expects the new additions will compliment its economy car, the Gunga Din.
Media Bites
Former “Quincy, M.E.” star Jack Klugman is suing NBC Universal, claiming the studio lied about the show’s profits and owes him money. NBC is claiming all profits were lost after being invested in “The Rockford Files.”
Inside Scoop
After deliberation with her campaign advisors, Hillary Clinton has decided not to show a previously-unreleased 1993 videotape of Secret Service agents shielding her from flying eggs during a White House Easter celebration.
Weekly Prediction
The Dalai Lama will be forced to make a heartfelt confession on “Oprah” after a video of him bitch slapping his towel boy turns up on YouTube.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Boston Outsider / Humor
It was twelve years ago, and I was working another silly job in a long line of silly jobs, doing inside sales for minimum wage plus commission, selling subscriptions to specialized pet magazines. It was cold calling, and I’m sure one can imagine how much fun it was to phone a hundred strangers a day and say, “Excuse me, do you or anyone else in your household own a mongoose?” or other pitches that sounded a lot like juvenile telephone gags.
Richie Cattivo worked there, too. He was a paunchy, balding guy with glasses and a moustache, who seemed to be a middle-aged Everyman. The word was that he was divorced and was being eaten alive by child support payments, and he really hustled for sales. He was such a good salesman that the manager let him handle all the fastest-moving products we were peddling: Iguana Monthly, Ferret Lovers’ Gazette, Gerbil World, etc. I, meanwhile, had low figures and was stuck pushing losers such as the Pygmy Goat Newsletter. Maaaaa. . . .
Richie was a hot shit. One night after we finished our shift, about five months after I met him, he had me cracking up as he told me all about his domestic situation.
“I’m rooming with a guy and a girl about twenty years old,” he told me. “They keep a boa constrictor and feed it live rats. And don’t bother calling them, because they already subscribe to Reptile Health. They screw at all hours and make noises from ‘Wild Kingdom,’ which makes me even more lonely. I’ve been eating in bars most nights so that I can get home after they’re tired out, and to save money I’ve been scarfing down a lot of free appetizers. I’ve had so many fried mozzarella sticks the last month, my ass is made of cheese,” he frowned.
“I have an idea, Richie,” I said. “Chinatown is on my way home, and I know a good place where we can get rice plates or noodles pretty cheap. Take a ride with me, and I’ll pop for dinner. You need to eat some vegetables, or you’ll be missing work for constipation.” He laughed and accepted my offer.
On the subway from Quincy to Boston, and later in the restaurant, Richie enumerated the transgressions that had led to his predicament. He’d been a top agent with a financial services company, selling life insurance policies, annuities, and mutual funds. But five years earlier, he’d started fooling around with call girls, going to strip clubs, and spending money like the proverbial drunken sailor. He had dipped into clients’ accounts, commingled funds, and lost his insurance license. A relative had come up with some big money to pay his fines and keep him out of jail.
“How did all that shit happen?” I asked.
“Who knows?” he said, between bites of lo mein. “I was always a mischievous prick when I was a kid, and I became a mischievous prick with money. And then I blew all the money, so now I’m a poor prick cadging meals off you.” I told him not to sweat about the food. After we finished eating and went out on the sidewalk, he pointed to a bar across the street and asked if I wanted to go in.
“The Honey Melon Lounge?” I said. “Isn’t that a nudie place? Listen, Richie, I like T & A as much as you do, but I don’t want to pay ten bucks a beer to have women half my age stick their big, fake boobs in my face.”
“You don’t have to pay anything,” Richie smiled. “There’s no cover charge. You can walk quick in one door and out another, and sneak a peek.”
Sneak a peek? It sounded like a game that kids played at camp. And this was coming from a man in his mid-forties with a ten-year-old daughter.
“You know,” I replied, “another thing I don’t need is catching a beating from a bouncer for sneaking peeks. If you want to look at breasts that bad, I’ll buy you a Playboy.”
“Nah,” said Richie, waving at me. “I’m in the mood to see real tits.”
“Real tits?” I replied. “Like I told you, there’s nothing real in that place. The melons at the Honey Melon Lounge are wax fruit.”
“All right, some other time,” Richie winked. We shook hands and parted company.
(end of part one)
jim@onlineoffbeat.com
Advice - Spike Sez offers no-nonsense, practical advice for the lovelorn, lost, and stupid. If you feel you fit into one of these categories and have a related question, submit it to spike@onlineoffbeat.com, and if he feels like it Spike may respond.
Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.” Spike Sez is not affiliated with Spike TV, Spike Lee, or anyone else purporting to be named Spike.
Dear Spike — I’m 30-year-old gay man. I work as an executive assistant for a very successful investment banker. He’s in his early fifties, married with 3 kids, etc... I love him to death (in a platonic way). He’s smart, considerate, and kind. I can’t imagine a better boss.
We’ve always had a great relationship at work, and over time we’ve developed a friendship as well. He knows I’m gay and he’s always asking me for advice on his clothes and hair and stuff. In fact we go on shopping trips together at the beginning of each season so I can help him pick out his wardrobe.
I always try to be honest about his clothing choices, but there’s one thing I can’t quite bring myself to tell him. He always wears this horrible safari-cowboy hat and an oil cloth longrider coat over his suits. He looks like he just stepped out of a bad made-for-TV Australian cowboy movie. I think it makes him look like a total tool, but I don’t have the heart to tell him since he seems to think it makes him look really cool.
Should I tell him? And what makes an otherwise-intelligent guy wear something like that?
Seth, Manhattan, New York
Dear Seth — Gee, you’re a 30-year-old gay executive assistant who gives his boss style advice and helps him shop for clothes. Way to buck the stereotype, Seth!
Spike thinks that maybe you’re underestimating the practicality of your boss’ sartorial choices, Mr. Fancy Pants. After all, what could be more appropriate than a wide-brimmed hat and long coat for rounding up all those doodles down at the dog park, crossing the great expanses of the Upper West Side in your covered Hummer, or lassoing a free-range rotisserie chicken at Balducci’s? Rather than criticizing, maybe it’s time you got into the spirit of the whole thing and adopted your own westerny side-kick look. You could knock out a few teeth and grow your beard long and be the cantankerous-but-lovable “Cookie” who mans the Chuck Wagon. Or don a pair of butt-less suede pants with fringe down the sides (you know, the ones you usually save for Saturday nights down at the Manhole?) and be “Big Chief Ass-Kisser.” Or maybe a hoop skirt, bustier and some rouge to become “Kitty,” the town madame with the heart of gold. The possibilities are endless.
But Spike jests, of course. He knows only too well the scourge of which you speak (and for any readers who aren’t sure, check out http://www.hartfordyork.com/category/safari-hats), and unfortunately it’s not confined to the island of Manhattan. Wherever there are middle-aged, well heeled, white-collar men, you’ll find the “Urban Adventurer.” It’s the look that says, “Yes, I’m rich and successful, but I’ve still maintained my hearty pioneer spirit...which I’ll show you right after I finish my double non-fat latte.”
To answer your second question first, (what makes an otherwise-intelligent guy wear something like that?), Spike suspects the answer is usually the wife. Spike has a theory that many wives of successful men con their husbands into wearing these get-ups by telling them it makes them look rugged and dangerous. In reality, it’s the equivalent of branding a steer to discourage rustlers. In essence, when a woman sends a man out of the street looking like that, she’s not only telling other women that he’s already taken, she’s also telling them that she’s got him so whipped that she can get him to dress up like Penelope Cruz in "Bandidas" (during summers in the Hamptons madras pants serve the same purpose), so stay away.
So what should you do about it? Nothing.
First of all, the situation you’re in right now sounds pretty sweet. You have a great relationship with your boss and you don’t want to screw it up by making him angry or hurting his feelings. Besides, on some level he probably already knows. He probably looks at his friends and neighbors heading off to work each morning in identical outfits and mutters contemptuously to himself, “Gee, someone must have robbed the bank cuz this posse is awful big.”
More importantly, you don’t want to piss off his wife. If, in fact, she is the one responsible for his unfortunate outer gear, the last thing you want to do is turn her into an enemy by having him go home and tell her you said it made him look stupid. Chances are one of the reasons you have your job is because his wife thought it would be much safer having some harmless little gay boy assisting her husband rather than a conniving, big-breasted blond who fancies herself the next Mrs. Boss. If you turn the missus against you, you may as well get the hell out of Dodge now.
Besides, in the big scheme of things, what does it really matter? Yeah, he may look stupid, but so what (unless you and the other gay-boy executive assistants are having some kind of big-money “Best Dressed Boss” competition)? He’s still a good guy and good boss. And it could be much worse. He could be a chunky 40-something stuffed into a pair of girl’s Juicy Couture jeans and a “Panic at the Disco” mini T. How’d you like to look at THAT every day?
So Spike suggests you just keep quiet...unless he asks you directly, and in that case you’ll just need to use a little diplomacy. Rather than saying, “I think your hat and coat look stupid,” say something like, “I think they look really good on you, but you know what I think would look GREAT?” or “I really like them, but I was just reading an article in some magazine that said that look might be getting a tad dated.” Sure it’s not honest, but at least you’ll keep your job and you might be able to get your little cowpoke off the range.
So now that we’ve solved that fashion crisis, let’s deal with one of Spike’s pet peeves: Ladies, enough with the colorful floppy hats with the rolled brims! They didn’t look good on the Queen Mum, they didn’t look good on Annie Hall, and they don’t look good on you. You may think they’re saying, “I’m quirky and unique and have an independent spirit,” but all Spike is hearing is, “I’m precious and have no fashion sense and every relationship I’ve ever been is has ended badly because I’m so fucking annoying!”
Phew! Spike feels so much better for having gotten that off his chest.
So ciao for now,
Spike
DISCLAIMER: Spike and Online OffBeat take no responsibility whatsoever for advice given in Spike Sez. Submit questions at your own risk to spike@onlineoffbeat.com. If no questions are submitted, Spike will make them up.
Boston Outsider / Humor
When I was in the fourth grade, there was a frequently televised public service announcement for the Immigration & Naturalization Service that ended with the words, “All aliens must report before January 1st.” After seeing the announcement several times, I decided to stake out the government building that housed the local I.N.S. office.
I loitered outside the place every weekday after school to spy on the facility’s visitors. I saw women dressed entirely in black, men with drooping moustaches, whole families in big fur hats, and old Chinese fellows with pigtails and long beards. But I didn’t witness one creature with antennae or tentacles, or any nine-foot guys with huge crania, or even a mutant chimp like the one on “Lost in Space.” What was going on? After a month or so, my father finally straightened me out.
“An ‘alien’ is just a foreign person,” my Dad said. “Like your grandmother upstairs.”
My maternal grandmother in the second floor apartment of our house was indeed foreign. She used to douse herself with vinegar before backyard cookouts to repel mosquitoes. When a stray feline encroached upon our front porch, my grandmother showed a superhuman talent for cat-flinging. She said that she could interpret dreams. And she often spoke a strange language with my mother.
Now I learned that my beloved Nonna was an alien. And realizing that my Ma understood my grandmother’s lingo, I thought about another term: “mother ship.” So, from what I gathered, extraterrestrials were disguised as “old country” people, and human mothers were their earthly quislings.
But why didn’t Uncle Martin on “My Favorite Martian” speak with an accent? Was he from a different part of space, or was he just a sneaky bastard? There was much to ponder concerning aliens.
After some Greeks opened a restaurant in our neighborhood, I got the idea for my first short story, “I Married a Stuffed Grape Leaf from Another World,” which I showed to my teacher, Miss McGillicuddy. She and the school psychologist both loved it!
jim@onlineoffbeat.com
Politics / Humor - Top Stories
Hillary Clinton learned this week that New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson is just not that into her. As a result, here are a few things suddenly removed from Richardson's schedule:
• Discuss upcoming fantasy football draft with Bill Clinton.
• Deliver key note speech to “It Takes a Village” chatroom.
• Judge Miss Chunky Chick beauty pageant.
• Be fitted for “Richardson/Clinton 2008" velour sweat suit.
• Say to Hillary Clinton each night, “Really? I didn’t know ‘La Bamba’ was your favorite song.”
Dick Cheney celebrated Easter at a nondenominational service in Jerusalem. It was his most profound religious experience since he cashed his first Haliburton check.
A registered sex offender is running for mayor of Wilmer, Texas. His campaign slogan is: “I never met a man on the Internet, claiming to be an underage girl, I didn’t like.”
John McCain met French President Nicolas Sarkozy in Paris. They discussed China’s crackdown in Tibet and the appropriate length of time before marrying another hot babe.
Bay State Bombast
The Massachusetts House, led by Speaker Sal DiMasi, defeated Gov. Deval Patrick’s casino bill, 108 to 46. An unfazed Patrick demanded, “Come on, double or nothing!”
Small Street Journal
Sporting arenas, stadiums, and tracks are now offering tickets that include unlimited snacks. Fans should be warned, however; the vomitorium is usually extra.
Media Bites
Jamie Lee Curtis is posing nude for the May/June issue of “AARP The Magazine.” Its editor is so confident the concept will boost circulation he’s offered to buy Angela Lansbury a membership to a gym.
Inside Scoop
John Edwards wants desperately to publicly endorse Barack Obama for president but is waiting for the right day when the sunlight perfectly highlights his hair.
Weekly Prediction
If John McCain loses the General Election, PBS’s next fundraiser will include “The Legends of Doo-Wop” featuring the Keating Five.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Humor
Possible captions
• Governor Spitzer, this position is going to cost you an extra $1000.
• Whoever holds her breath the longest will be my bride’s maid.
• I promise, this time no one will catch athlete’s head.
• The people at Cirque du Soleil said I was insane!
• Because Coach Caligula said so.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Boston Outsider / Humor
I came to St. Rocco’s in 1958, when the parish needed another priest who spoke the Neapolitan dialect. Father Scaramucci, the original pastor since 1915, was still here then. The man was a legend. For the first two years after his arrival in the United States, while the church was being constructed, he held Mass for other Italian immigrants in the back room of a salumeria -a delicatessen- and so the local Irish joked by calling him, “Padre Bologna.”
But he became an important man in the community, and now a street, a hospital wing, and a nursing home are named after him. Many who have prayed at his grave claim to have been cured of warts and moles. I lived with Father Scaramucci for ten years in the rectory, and I knew him, “warts and all,” as the saying goes. He sometimes skipped reading his Vespers to watch, “I Love Lucy.” He was addicted to spicy food, often eating a whole jar of pepperoncini at a time. When he would get agita from such imprudence, he would ask for Brioschi, a bicarbonate of soda imported from Italy. He said that Alka Seltzer didn’t help, and if we were out of Brioschi , he would send me to the North End to get the stuff. And he cheated at bocce! If he is ever a candidate for sainthood, I suppose I will have to reveal all this to the Devil’s Advocate.
After Father Scaramucci went to his reward, I became pastor, during the tumultuous aftermath of the Second Vatican Council. Not all of the Council’s reforms were well received. Mrs. Cantalupo, whose husband “Boom-Boom” was a well-to-do cement contractor, despised the Folk Mass we instituted, and she threatened to have the parish guitarist assassinated. She relented in her criticism after I appointed her to be the cook of the monthly Communion Breakfast. She was a difficult woman, but she made a delicious pepper-and-onion frittata.
But people have also enjoyed many of the changes that have happened at St. Rocco’s during my tenure. The Easter Vigil bonfire, which is actually the restoration of an ancient practice, has been quite popular, although the young man who was in charge of lighting the fire during the 1980s later became a professional arsonist. I still visit “Sparky” Colameta in prison, where he is behaving well and studying insurance law.
But now it is time to make way for a new pastor, a youthful Brazilian who has erected a soccer net where the back of the bocce alley used to be. I only plan to take some clothing and books to the diocesan retirement home with me, and thus I face a dilemma. I am on the mailing list of every Catholic charity in North America, and over the years I have been inundated with hundreds of the little gifts that they give with their solicitation letters, such as rosaries, medals, Padre Pio dashboard statues, and Mother Teresa refrigerator magnets. I am doing my best to give most of these objects away to parishioners, but there are some souvenirs I am going to keep. The grandchildren of Mrs. Cantalupo (rest her soul) are at a tender age, and I worry about what might happen if my St. Michael letter openers get into their hands.
Father Scaramucci, pray for me.
Politics / Humor - Top Stories
Meg Whitman, eBay’s outgoing CFO, is going to co-chair John McCain’s national presidential campaign. Here are five fund-raising ideas she may not have considered:
• Highest bidder gets a Straight Talk Express steering column that keeps veering to the right.
• Top 10 bidders receive all-expense paid anything courtesy of Boeing.
• Top 25 bidders get to visit U.S. troops in Iraq any time during 2085.
• Top 50 bidders will spend a week with McCain’s mother at a fantasy shuffleboard camp.
• Top 100 bidders will receive a photo of McCain’s forehead on which is an image of the Virgin Mary.
Rev. Jeremiah Wright has been removed as “spiritual adviser” to the Barack Obama campaign. However, the campaign is in talks with a free agent spiritual advisor who has been clocked at 4.3 seconds in the 40-yard dash across water.
With the Pennsylvania Primary in mind, the Obama campaign is also entertaining thoughts of going with an Amish spiritual adviser.
In a speech to the Economic Club of New York about the failing economy, President Bush said “The challenge is not to do anything foolish.” He then pledged to do the opposite of everything he’s ever done.
Dick Cheney has left on a 10-day Mideast trip that includes stops in Oman, Saudi Arabia, and the Republic of Haliburton.
Bay State Bombast
A Boston police detective was arrested in Savannah, Ga. after being accused of dragging two women from their home and holding them against their will during a weekend St. Patrick’s Day celebration. A police union official immediately demanded the detective be paid double time for working an out-of-state detail.
Small Street Journal
The investment bank Bear Stearns Cos. was bailed out by rival JPMorgan Chase & Co. and the federal government, but with one condition: no more free calendars.
Media Bites
Tucker Carlson’s show on MSNBC has been cancelled. He was one of many political commentators claiming to have invented the phrases: “This could go right down to the wire.” and “Can anybody beat Hillary?”
Inside Scoop
According to Emperor's Club rules, if Eliot Spitzer had three more liaisons, the next one would’ve been on the house. If he had five more liaisons, he would’ve received a complimentary Emperor's Club tote bag.
Weekly Prediction
Hillary Clinton will announce: “As far as I know, the English translation of Barack Hussein Obama is not Huey Newton.”
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Boston Outsider / Humor
Diary, February 17, 1970:
Our first class of the day is gym, which is always a barrel of laughs. We’re the boys of section 8-A, supposedly the smartest class in eighth grade, but the gym instructor hates our guts. He has us twice a week, and sometimes he gets a kick out of pitting us against one of the juvenile delinquent sections in a game of “kamikaze basketball.” He’s a swarthy guy of about five-feet zero, and he was a high school hoop star for the city in the late 40s. At that height, he didn’t have much of an inside game, and so he was an outside shooter with the nickname, “Sal the Set Shot.”
Today Sal outdoes himself. After we suit up, he tells us to sit in the bleachers. Then he goes out to mid-court and sings several choruses of, “Is That All There Is?” a popular and depressing song about the pointlessness of existence. I don’t know if Sal is just having more fun with us, if he’s had an eye-opener of cheap whiskey for breakfast, or if he dresses up like Peggy Lee in his spare time, but the whole thing is bizarre. The show goes on for so long that we don’t even get any exercise.
Our second period English teacher is a substitute, a young, longhaired guy. At first the rumor about him was that he was a crazed Viet Nam vet, as in, “That guy had a nut blown off over there. Don’t get him mad!” But then it turned out that he was just another hippie out of U.Mass., and now all the burnouts ask him if he can get them any weed.
Marijuana is the subject of a documentary that we’re shown at an assembly in the auditorium during last period. And, be still my heart, the narrator of the film is a famous Italo-American, a great role model for Yours Truly. Is it the writer Mario Puzo? Is it Frank Malzone from the Red Sox? Is it Sinatra? No, it’s. . . Sonny Bono. Boy what a corny flick this is.
“Yes, cigarettes are bad,” Sonny intones in his nasal twang. “But would you rather have the pilot of a plane you’re on smoking Marlboros or maryjane?”
In one dramatized sequence, a kid attends a party and takes his first toke of smoke ever, and he goes straight to Psychedelic Hell. He looks in a bathroom mirror and sees a man-sized iguana staring back at him. He goes into the living room to find it occupied by dwarfs with their heads on backwards, and he’s menaced by flying, fanged teddy bears.I’m guessing that a beer company secretly financed this project: Drink Schlitz! It will only wreck your liver!
Diary, February 18, 1970:
That Sonny Bono propaganda worked like a charm. Today at lunchtime, the schoolyard reeks of cannabis fumes. I’m thinking that all the first-time stoners are going to be pissed off that they aren’t hallucinating like the kid in the movie. And it’s freezing out. I can’t wait for winter to be over. Maybe when it warms up, the school will show us a documentary about the dangers of miniskirts.
jim@onlineoffbeat.com
Boston Outsider / Humor
I am an American of Italian ancestry, and I know that many of my co-ethnics were not thrilled with the way our tribe was portrayed on “The Sopranos.” But there were times when the show raised important questions, such as in the episode in which Paulie the capo and Silvio the consigliere argue as to whether the substance poured over pasta should be called “sauce” or “gravy.” It was a scene that hit home.
“Jimmy, you stupid fuck,” a dear friend once enlightened me. “Don’t call it sauce. If it’s got meat in it, it’s gravy”
Yes, meat is important in Italo-American culture. When I was growing up, no Fourth of July cookout at our house was complete without Italian sausages (hot and sweet) to show those burgers and hot dogs who was boss. Our fridge was always stocked with fine cold cuts. Once, when I was caught with a piece of genoa salami on a meatless Friday, I claimed that it was for my grandmother’s cat, and my mother countered by saying that the cat was a Third Order Carmelite, bound by vows to abstain from meat on both Fridays and Wednesdays.
As I grew up, I learned where different cuts of meat originated. Ham came from pigs. Roast beef came from the good part of a cow, and tripe came from its stomach. (Although if you’ve tried to chew tripe, you may think that it comes from the Firestone Tire plant in Akron.) And the summer after second grade, I found out that anything that lives and breathes could end up as a meal.
It was that summer that I spent a lot of time with my friend Angelo “Angie” Conigliaro, whose family kept a rabbit hatch containing about twenty of the little lagomorphs. One rabbit had distinct markings, a white face with a black circle around his eye, and I named him Petey, because he resembled the dog of the same name in “The Little Rascals” shorts. On one visit I noticed that Petey wasn’t in his cage, and I asked where he was.
“We ate him on Sunday,” Angie answered matter-of-factly, “in red sauce, over polenta.”
My family didn’t eat bunnies, so I was aghast at the thought of Petey being devoured. For weeks later, I would ask, “This isn’t rabbit, is it?” when I was served meat. And I began to worry about safety of the Easter Bunny, until a wise, old uncle told me that, “The Easter Bunny can’t be killed. He’s like Frankenstein. Everybody knows that”
I was relieved. But all these years later, I wonder about something. If Petey was the meat in that “red sauce,” shouldn’t it have been called red gravy?
jim@onlineoffbeat.com
Cartoons / Humor
Humor
Possible captions
• Who stole my Emperor's Club coffee cup?
• I’ll tell you what’s sexy: typing 120 words a minute while wearing only crotchless panties!
• A thousand dollars an hour and she makes me pay for the minibar.
• So a priest, a minister, and Client 8 walk into a bar.
• Big deal! Kerry’s wife paid him more than $10,000 just to vacuum in his bicycle shorts.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Advice - Spike Sez offers no-nonsense, practical advice for the lovelorn, lost, and stupid. If you feel you fit into one of these categories and have a related question, submit it to spike@onlineoffbeat.com, and if he feels like it Spike may respond.
Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.” Spike Sez is not affiliated with Spike TV, Spike Lee, or anyone else purporting to be named Spike.
Dear Spike — My honey, Shaun, and I have been together for almost three years now and living together for the past year. I love him to death and the relationship is wonderful, but I think it’s time that we bought a place together, whereas he wants to keep renting.
Until we decided to test-drive cohabitation I always owned. I like the stability of ownership, and knowing that the place where I live is truly mine and that I can do whatever I want with it.
Shaun has always rented. I think it appeals to his independent nature not be tied down to one place. He likes the idea of being able to pick up and move to the next place on a month’s notice.
I just think it makes sense for us to buy at this point. I don’t think either of us has any doubts about the relationship, housing prices have plummeted, and I hate the idea of throwing away money on rent and losing out on the mortgage interest tax break. I also feel like it’s time we put down some more permanent roots together. Maybe it’s some sort of nesting instinct, but I want a place that is truly our home.
Do you think I’m being unreasonable to ask Shaun to change his ways? I should point out that we’re not young kids. Both of us are closing in on 40 and have successful careers and otherwise very stable lives, and we both have strong ties to the area through our families and friends.
— Emerson, Cleveland, Ohio
Dear Emerson — Gee, your “honey” doesn’t fancy buying a house in Cleveland. Imagine that. Why could that be? Oh, maybe he doesn’t want to be stuck in the armpit that is Cleveland for the rest of his life?
But Spike jests, of course. Cleveland is a lovely city...despite the flammable river running through the middle of it.
There are a few possible dynamics going on here. One may be simply that Shaun is not as sure of the relationship as you are (in fact he may be planning his escape to greener pastures...like say, Pittsburgh...right now). Maybe he’s just growing tired of you with your practical financial ways and sensible shoes (Spike is making a guess on that one) and wants to have an easy out that won’t require lawyers when he drops the bomb. If that’s the issue then it would certainly behoove you to address it sooner than later since you don’t want to go through all the expense of buying a house only to have him tell you, “Oh, by the way, I rented an apartment for myself and I want you to buy my half of the house” on moving day.
Or it could be, as you say, that Shaun just wants to maintain his independence. Some people just don’t like to be tied down. The thought of owning any larger than a car (which comes in handy for quick getaways) is suffocating and even depressing for them. Of course independence is really an illusion since most of us are tied down to some extent by our connections to family and friends, our jobs, etc..., but that illusion is more important for some people in order to maintain a feeling of well being. Once one owns a home that illusion quickly disappears because one is clearly no longer part of the nomadic tribe.
Spike can certainly see the issue from both of your sides. For most of his adult life Spike has owned. Like you, he feels more comfortable knowing that his home belongs to him, and he likes knowing that his monthly payments are helping him build equity that he can use in case of an emergency. And Spike is unquestionably house proud. He enjoys looking after his property and shaping it to be a reflection of his personality. It helps him feel whole. Plus the tax break is nothing to sneeze at.
But for a year prior to buying his current abode Spike rented and he found the experience quite liberating. Aside from paying the rent and utilities he had no responsibilities for the property. If a pipe burst or the heat died he just called the landlord and it was magically fixed. And there was a great sense of freedom in knowing that if he so chose he could leave at the end of his lease without having to sell the property first. It was also nice having enough money in the bank to buy a Porsche (should he suddenly feel his penis was too small) rather than having the equity tied up in a down payment.
But ultimately Spike chose to go back to ownership because he found it more satisfying.
You need to evaluate the potential emotional damage before making a decision. Will you feel so untethered if you continue to rent that you’ll eventually become resentful toward Shaun? Will he feel so trapped by ownership that he’ll eventually become resentful toward you? Ultimately the future of your relationship could be in the balance if you can’t honestly answer those questions first.
One option that might satisfy you both would be to buy a vacation home but continue to rent where you live. You’d lose out on the tax break since it wouldn’t be your primary residence (because Spike would NEVER advocate trying to fool the IRS), but at least you’d be building some equity which seems to be one of your concerns. And the idea of owning a getaway retreat might not be as intimidating to Shaun. In fact, over time he might grow to like the feeling of ownership and decide he wants to buy a primary home as well.
In the meantime Spike suggests exposing Shaun to steady doses of “House Hunters.” If that perky Suzanne Whang can’t warm him up to the idea of home ownership then no one can.
Whatever you decide keep in mind that both of you should make some compromises. If you continue renting then Shaun should agree to let you take him to open houses one Sunday every month, just so you can still enjoy the fun of searching for a house. And if you buy then you should let Shaun sleep around one Sunday of every month just so he can maintain a sense of freedom...KIDDING!
So ciao for now,
Spike
DISCLAIMER: Spike and Online OffBeat take no responsibility whatsoever for advice given in Spike Sez. Submit questions at your own risk to spike@onlineoffbeat.com. If no questions are submitted, Spike will make them up.
Politics / Humor - Top Stories
Samantha Power, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and unpaid adviser to Barack Obama, resigned on Friday after calling Hillary Clinton “a monster.” Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth as demonstrated by the following comparison:
• Frankenstein was created by a mad scientist. Hillary Clinton was raised by an overbearing father.
• The Creature from the Black Lagoon was played by actor Ben Chapman (who recently died on February 21, 2008). Hillary Clinton is played by herself.
• Godzilla has appeared in 28 movies. Hillary Clinton has appeared in 20 presidential debates.
• Dracula sucked the blood out of unsuspecting victims. Hillary Clinton has sucked the innocence out of Barack Obama’s childhood.
• King Kong carried a woman to the top of the Empire State Building and then gently set her down. Who knows what Hillary Clinton did with most of Bill’s girl friends?
President Bush vetoed legislation passed by Congress that would’ve banned the CIA from using waterboarding and other interrogation techniques considered by most to be torture. Bush added, “In order for this administration to function, we must be able to torture both terrorists and the English language.”
A John McCain adviser said Karl Rove is now informally advising the campaign. McCain said it was purely coincidental that after their first meeting, the Senator remembered that one of his jailers in Vietnam was Hillary Clinton.
Iowa Republican congressman Steve King said Barack Obama’s middle name (Hussein) matters, after also saying Al-Qaida will be “dancing in the streets” if Obama wins. This is coming from a man with the same name as the guy who wrote “Tommyknockers,” “Creepshow,” and “Creepshow II.”
Bay State Bombast
Massachusetts Insurance Commissioner Nonnie Burnes announced car owners, who want to see if they can get a better deal under the state’s new competitive pricing system, may opt out of their existing insurance plans early -- as long as their nicknames aren’t “Crash,” “The Torch,” or “The Fence.”
Small Street Journal
It’s been reported that the FBI is investigating Countrywide Financial Corp. for securities fraud. It’s also been reported that Countrywide CEO Angelo Mozilo has just secured a 10- to 20-year adjustable rate mortgage with time off for good behavior.
Media Bites
Barack Obama beat Hillary Clinton in Wyoming’s nominating caucus. It is also the first time a state population has been outnumbered by CNN production assistants.
Inside Scoop
A group of Democratic leaders was ready to beg Al Gore to run for president until they found out his real middle name is Osama bin Adoph.
Weekly Prediction
In a desperate attempt to secure the Jewish vote, Barack Obama will deliver a speech where he does nothing but complain about his health, his relatives, and the humidity.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
Advice - Spike Sez offers no-nonsense, practical advice for the lovelorn, lost, and stupid. If you feel you fit into one of these categories and have a related question, submit it to spike@onlineoffbeat.com, and if he feels like it Spike may respond.
Spike is NOT a licensed therapist and has NO training whatsoever in psychology or human behavior, but as he frequently says, “the fucking President has no qualifications for his job either, and look how well he’s doing.” Spike Sez is not affiliated with Spike TV, Spike Lee, or anyone else purporting to be named Spike.
Dear Spike — I’m a 37-year-old dyke. I’m a long-time reader of Dan Savage’s “Savage Love” column in the Village Voice. Recently one of my gay-boy friends turned me onto your column. I really dig it. My question is, how would you compare yourself to Dan Savage?
— She-Devil, Long Island
Dear She-Devil — How would Spike compare himself to Dan Savage? With a ruler and mirror, of course, because Spike is much taller and MUCH better looking. In fact just the other night Spike saw Dan Savage on “Real Time with Bill Maher” and could have sworn that he was sitting on a stack of telephone books, and Spike hasn’t seen that much gauze on a camera lens since they tried to pass a 56-year-old Bette Davis off as a dewy twenty-something at the beginning of “Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte.”
But Spike jests, of course, because he has nothing but the utmost respect for Mr. Savage. Besides, Spike suspects that what you were really asking is how Spike would compare our advice columns.
Well, to use a sports metaphor (since you’re a dyke and Spike wants to make sure you’ll understand), if Dan Savage and Spike were both wrestlers, Savage would be an Olympic wrestler, whereas Spike would be a professional wrestler (one of the hot ones like Edge or The Rock, not an over-pumped beastie like Triple H). Both require great skill, but one has a more serious intention while the other is primarily about entertainment. In fact Spike has trademarked a new word for what he does: Advi-tainment (not to be confused with AdvO-tainment, which is practicing law primarily for the cameras...like Gloria Allred).
Now that’s not to say that Dan Savage isn’t entertaining or that Spike doesn’t occasionally offer some sound advice. In fact Spike finds Savage quite droll at times, and Spike’s fans think that Spike’s advice is often quite thoughtful. And if you don’t believe Spike, go ahead and ask them...BOTH of them. But “Savage Love” tackles questions that are well outside Spike’s domain.
Need advice on the proper etiquette for ending a dominant-submissive arrangement with a woman who isn’t relationship material because you’ve met a woman who is (the actual lead question in the latest “Savage Love”)? Write to Dan Savage. Need to be mocked because you’re a wuss who can’t handle a little stress in your life? Write to Spike. Need information on the health risks of oral sex? Write to Dan Savage. Need information on the socio-political subtext of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” Write to Spike. You get the picture.
There are other differences in our columns, as well. Savage has a team of experts at his beck and call to deal with questions that are outside his own realm of expertise. Spike’s experts are usually the guys sitting on either side of his bar stool. Savage refers to himself only in the first person, a practice that gives the quaint illusion that he’s on the same level as his readers. Spike would never attempt such false humility. Savage’s readers sign their questions with names that render cute little acronyms when you put the first letter of each word together. Spike’s readers can barely spell their own names.
To sum up, Dan Savage is the standard to which all of we lesser gay advice columnists strive (and believe it or not, we are legion)...because he actually makes a living at it. He’s broken out of the ghetto and become a mainstream star by dispensing well reasoned, informed, morally sound advice and social commentary across all media. When Spike grows up he wants to be Dan Savage (minus the thin lips and the kid).
All that said, the next time Bill Maher (or anyone else) is looking to add a little gay perspective to his show, how about giving Spike a call? Not that Savage and Andrew (I-sound-like-Madonna) Sullivan aren’t fascinating guests, but are they really giving the most accurate representation of gay men in America? One guy who’s been in a monogamous relationship for 20 years and has a kid, and the other a conservative Republican who supported George W. throughout his first term? Spike thinks not. If you really want a representative of the average gay man how about giving the slutty, chainsmoking alcoholic a shot? Now THAT would be entertaining!
So ciao for now,
Spike
DISCLAIMER: Spike and Online OffBeat take no responsibility whatsoever for advice given in Spike Sez. Submit questions at your own risk to spike@onlineoffbeat.com. If no questions are submitted, Spike will make them up.
Cartoons / Humor
Politics / Humor - Top Stories
Keys to this week’s Super Tuesday:
• Ohio -- Hillary Clinton must convince voters that only she can prevent Cleveland’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum from being moved to Bombay.
• Rhode Island -- Barack Obama needs to tailor his message to the nation’s tiniest state: Small Change We Can Believe In.
• Texas -- Remember, es la economía, estúpido.
• Vermont -- It’s a rocky road without the support of Ben & Jerry.
Dmitry Medvedev, Vladimir Putin's hand-picked successor, easily won Russia's presidential election, causing President Bush to complain, “If Clinton and Obama can’t pronounce his name, what chance have I?”
John McCain has refused to renounce the endorsement of Texas televangelist John Hagee who is accused of being anti-Catholic, anti-gay, and anti-black. An amazed McCain added, “And yet he doesn’t hate the Jews.”
New Mexico Gov. Bill Richardson remains undecided on whether to make an endorsement in the Democratic presidential race. It’s the same decisiveness that made him such an appealing candidate.
Bay State Bombast
It was learned this week that some Mass Pike toll collectors have been carrying fire arms for decades. When asked why they need guns for protection, a collector said, “Have you seen how rude we are?
Small Street Journal
The Air Force awarded Northrop Grumman Corp. and European Aeronautic Defense and Space Co. a $35 billion contract to build 179 airborne refueling planes. Each aircraft will accept cash or credit cards.
Media Bites
Timothy Goeglein, the White House liaison with conservative groups, admitted lifting material without attribution for his newspaper columns. A contrite Goeglein said, “I had nothing to fear but the fear of getting caught.”
Inside Scoop
Twenty seven percent of all superdelegates believe they have x-ray vision.
Weekly Prediction
The McCain campaign will attempt to raise money by auctioning off a wood-burning stove, a cord of firewood, and Ann Coulter as kindling.
ben.alper@onlineoffbeat.com
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