Obsessively, Compulsively Wrong

16 07 2008

HEY! WAIT A SECOND! You know this hurculean piece of junk that Howard Hughes built back in the day?

The fact that this nightmare of “ingenuity” is even in the air

suggests the use of some old-timey photoshop software

I just realized that the name “Spruce Goose,” which I always thought was a rare instance of goose-flattery, is actually kind of an insult! This airplane is a big fat failure! A joke! And you know what the worst part is? It wasn’t even made of spruce! That’s, right: it was a BIRCH goose. Which means they had already settled on the “goose” stamp as a way to insult the aircraft and needed a rhyming kind of wood for their retarded, fact-trampling, species-insensitive bon mot! Well, fuck Howard Hughes, and fuck the trees that gave their life for him. It should have been called a birch…lurch. Furch. There’s bound to be a bird name that rhymes with “birch,” just fucking look it up yourselves. I hate you all so much.

—Nero

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What Have You Done For Me Lately?

30 06 2008

As a flight academy grad used to people trying to shoot me out of the sky, I’m glad General Wesley Clark had the cajones to take a huge steaming dump on John McCain’s military experience malarkey.  Basically, he said, crashing your plane into a lake in Vietnam doesn’t qualify you for the presidency. *ZING* 

After I cackled over that envelope-pushing takedown, though, I got to thinking maybe Clarky didn’t go far enough.  Remember that McCain crashed his plane twice before the war even started.  Oh, don’t worry about avoiding those power lines, John, the taxpayers will be happy to shell out a few million to buy you another A-1 Skyraider.  

Also, if McCain was such a war hero, why did he get caught by the bad guys?  

McCain didn’t even use his shattered limbs to fend off Charlie

Why, when McCain could have been released early due to his father’s position as a top U.S. admiral, did he choose to hang around for five years in the Hanoi Hilton?  Hiltons are posh, swanky, luxurious places—Christ, I’ve never even been allowed near one.  If he’s such a super soldier, why didn’t he opt out of POW status and hop back in a new bomber and lay waste to Cambodia and Marlon Brando and turn the tide of the whole feckin’ war?

Speaking of which, if McCain’s such a military genius, how come we lost in Vietnam?  In fact, John McCain’s war record is 0-1.  Every war he’s fought in, we suffered a humiliating defeat, which he unequivocally accepted.  Not inspiring a lot of confidence there, buddy.  

No, John, if you want to be commander-in-chief, you’re gonna need Rambo as VP.  Hell, you might even learn something …quitter.

—Nero

 





Why Couldn’t It Be A Sex Tape

24 06 2008

Oh, fuck me. This is just my luck. You live your whole life, spend years in flight academy, do the goddamn migrations, eat the moldy bread, preen, kill countless hours drifting on the water, stand around in the rain, flee from cartoonish and badly-camouflaged hunters, molt, go everywhere in a giant V. You do everything expected of a goose.

Maybe then you go through a messy divorce. That’s all too common, man, nobody’s gonna knock you for that. Maybe the rent shot sky high on the one side of the lake you could still afford. Not your fault, buddy. And maybe you finally have no choice but to sleep in someone’s boat for a few nights. Hell, nobody’s used it in months, what’s the big deal?

Then, say you get up in the morning to piss and came back to find some good ol’ boy and his ugly mutt trying to make off with your improvised shelter, the one thing you have left in this world. At a certain point a bird has to spread his wings and say: “Nuh-uh. Not today. Not my crappy makeshift nest.”

Well, what the fuck was he doing with a camera, anyway? “Doggone goose”—wish I’d pecked his bastard amateur filmmaker’s eyes out.

The YouTube comments? “You should have broke its neck.” “I would have ate that goose.” No, you wouldn’t have, you feckin Capri Sun-drinking web-rat virgins. You’d be dead if you tried that. I took these rednecks to school, and that joker would be at the bottom of that lake with his pooch for grabbing me by the neck if I hadn’t been so hungover. Jesus. A guy tries to preserve his dignity and the wired community takes a steaming dump on him. Real classy, Internet.

—Nero





Seeing Red

2 06 2008

I have a Pinkerton tattoo under my left wing. I lost my virginity to “El Scorcho.” I wish I looked like Buddy Holly, even tried wearing non-prescription glasses. Rivers Cuomo is a friend of mine.

None of this saves their comeback—the so-called “Red Album”—from being a little disappointing. But how fuckin’ DARE Pitchforkmedia give it a 4.7?!! SHOW A LITTLE RESPECT YOU OVERLITERATE LES SAVY FAV-FELLATING COPYWRITER SCUM

Don’t kick someone when they’re already mustachioed

4.7. Seriously. 4.7: less than exactly mediocre. 4.7: the equivalent of Pedro the Lion’s “Achilles Heel”. 4.7: One-tenth of a point below Two Ton Boa’s self-titled EP. I have no idea who these bands are, but they’re no company for the chugging 90s power-pop that soundtracked flight academy for me. They should have broken the 9.0 ceiling on nostalgia alone. But I guess some critics are hankering for the end of culture and civilization. You hipsters go have fun handjobbing each other to Vampire Weekend—I’ll be rocking out “In The Garage.”

—Nero





With Enemies Like These

29 05 2008

Who needs friends?  I can barely keep my enemies list updated, what with all the backstabbing and douchebaggery and constantly revised revenge plots. Here’s who’s currently getting my dander up—and consequently making innocent dander-allergic third parties suffer.  HOW MANY NASAL PASSAGES MUST YOU INFLAME

Nero’s Enemies List

(in order of who I would punch hardest if I had fists)

—————————————————

1. Edith Wharton (lingering English class antipathy)

2. Maxie (does not deserve to live or, barring that, be more popular than me)

3. Willie Randolph (he knows why)

4. Google Inc. (for reporting my gosling pornography searches)

5. Exterminators (bedbugs didn’t ask to be born, buddy!)

6. Richard M. Nixon

7. The Kingdom of Denmark (enough visa rejections will drive you to violence)

Also, how bout you learn to spell in American

8. Hank the Bullying Hawk (“sharpens” his talons on my back)

9. Fortune cookie fortunes (is it me, or have they gotten more threatening?)

10. The Honorable Judge Winston Busby of the Delaware Court of Chancery (whose title is long and boring)





Worked Stiff

12 05 2008

So it’s come to this.

It took defaulting on student loan payments for Flight Academy for me to seek gainful employment, if you can call it that. The temp agency sent me to what has to be the dumpiest PR firm in midtown—we’re in the basement of T.G.I.Friday’s (not a client, by the way). Forget about natural light.

Thus far nobody’s even told me what I’m supposed to be doing. All I can glean from my workspace is that I’m expected to sit and produce copious amounts of garbage:

And because they refuse to give me a building ID, the front desk security guard/T.G.I.Friday’s hostess tried to shoo me away when I came back from lunch break.

Also, it turns out I don’t get a lunch break.

On top of that, my boss, Arnie or Ernie, whatever, got up in my beak about getting feathers on the water cooler nozzle. That buttwipe can’t prove anything. He probably doesn’t even know that I lost my last job by blogging about my buttwipe boss.

—Nero