L&O: SVU Premiere

Please join me in extending my one year old nephew, Sully, a hearty congrats for writing and directing tonight's season premiere episode of Law & Order: SVU. Granted, I haven't confirmed that he was in any way involved with tonight's show but judging by the storyline, dialogue and tone, I'm pretty sure either he or one of his toddler buddies was at the healm.  When you speak to him, try not to let on how much it really sucked. I mean, he is just starting out in the biz.

Dear Chicago Bears

Fuck you guys and your overtime loss. Next time you want to push and shove each other after a play is whistled dead remember that I have unfertilized eggs in my ovaries with more sportsmanship. I hope you all get a serious spanking, not the good kind either. The prison kind where something is likely to get stuck somewhere REALLY uncomfortable. The kind that places your shrink on speed dial. The kind that makes you cover all the mirrors in your house. The kind where you cry in the shower afterward.

I'm In Thalthes

In a phrase I'll borrow from Bill Maher, New Rule: You cannot expect to have a rewarding career in sales if you have a speech impediment. Specifically a lisp. No one wants to get trapped on the other end of the phone while they're pitched  "thome thuper opportunitieth." 

I will begin with the obvious: Lispers are difficult to understand. Trying to decipher what they're saying it like the first 5 minutes of 'Trainspotting.'  Right off the bat, you're like, "What the fuck language am I hearing? Where are the subtitles?" It sounds kind of familiar, but good luck making it out clearly. Might as well be speaking Farsi. Consider, too, how many words contain the letter 'S.' By the time a lisper has uttered one sentence, he or she is likely to have T.H.'d--a new verb I just invented--multiple times.  For instance, let's break down "for instance." For-in-th-tanth. 

Lisps are fucking funny, too. Someone could actually die laughing from listening to a lisper. Theriouthly. A life lost to the giggles, well, that's tho thad. Thruck down by an uncontrollable rethponthe. Once the laughter fades, the lisp effect starts to snowball. What was slightly noticeable in 5 seconds becomes stark ravingly incessant when given an entire minute. The occasional slurred 'S' piles up after a while. Pretty soon it's all you can hear. At that point, I liken it to torture. Thomebody'th gotta thop it or violenth will enthue.

And though this may cement my asshole status for all eternity, I can't trust someone who can't say 'trust.' Think about it: "Trutht me." You've got to be kidding. Now, if I may be excused, I've got some volunteering to do at a speech clinic as penance. Or should I say, "penanthe?"

Last Will, Just In Case

Against my better instincts, I ended up watching some 9/11 themed programming this year. One of the shows mentioned that more than 80% of the unmarried victims died without wills causing their friends and families additional, albeit unintended, grief. Since I would never want to burden my loved ones (all six of you) in such a manner, let this be my final will and testament. 

Belongings: Please fight over my books and music. There isn't much else.

Wealth: I leave all my debt to no one. Whoever I owe money to can eat it. 

That should cover it. Peace be with me.