Posts Tagged ‘Kurt Warner’

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What Not to Do in the Magic Kingdom

September 2, 2010
Mickey Mouse: yet another victim of racial profiling

Mickey Mouse: yet another victim of racial profiling

[Nothing like ruining things for others. It’s what makes blogging “virtually the happiest place on earth.” Originally published July 7, 2009.]

Disneyland is constantly referred to as “the happiest place on earth” and it’s easy to see why. The culmination of Walt Disney’s love of animation and copyright extensions have turned parts of California, Florida and France into a paradise for children of all ages (more specifically, children ages 5-12).

For parents though, the reality is a mind-numbing combination of these aspects:

  • Watching your children in public
  • Standing in line
  • Dealing with other people’s children
  • Blowing ridiculous amounts of money

Is it any wonder that five years down the road the kids are getting stashed at Grandma’s while the parents head to Las Vegas to blow the college fund on roulette and Wayne Newton tickets?

Disney Corporation runs a tight ship to ensure the magic happens for everyone. The evidence of their quality control is everywhere, from the scared shitless would-be actors cowering in their mascot suits to the numerous sequels cranked out year after year, turning beloved favorites into just another piece of the franchise.

Peter Pan: arrested for transporting minors across dimensional lines; failure to fulfill EOE requirements (Hook v. Pan)

Peter Pan: arrested for transporting minors across dimensional lines; failure to fulfill EOE requirements (Hook v. Pan)

If you are planning to blow the equivalent of a used car in one weekend, it just makes sense to be aware of the many words and actions, often used in panic or frustration, that will hasten your exit from the Magic Kingdom.

Educating other guests about Walt Disney’s Nazi-sympathizing.

Asking any black employees if they are part of the Song of the South exhibit.

Asking why there are so few black employees.

Exclaiming “But I can buy this shit anywhere!” while in the gift shop.

Playing “Spot the Penis” at every promotional poster.

Covering your children’s eyes every time Donald Duck’s pants-less ass waddles by.

Speculating on Beauty and the Beast’s pre-transformation love life.

Pointing out that the estate of the Brothers Grimm would be paved with gold, if there was any justice in the world.

Exclaiming “But I can get this shit free with any Happy Meal!” while in the gift shop.

Spending all day in the World of Tomorrow Internet cafe, gaming the exchange rate in an attempt to turn a profit on your Disneyland Fun Bucks.

Telling staffers “You should build one of these overseas. The French just eat this kind of cheerily overdone bullshit up.”

Composing fan fiction anywhere with the park boundaries.

Jaywalking.

Entering the park dressed in a homemade, anatomically-correct mascot costume.

Informing Kurt Warner and his family that only “Super Bowl winners” are allowed to go to Disneyland.

Detained on charges of performing indecent fan fiction thereby corrupting many, many minors

Detained on charges of performing indecent fan fiction thereby corrupting many, many minors

Wandering around the set of High School Musical 4in a black trench coat.

Handing out pamphlets entitled: Anthropomorphism: Hell’s “Gateway” Drug?

Turning the It’s A Small Worldride into your personal soapbox to decry the failure of multi-cultural assimilation and/or a geography lesson explaining just how large the world actually is.

Asking for directions to Jellystone National Park.

Challenging any mascot to a/an:

  • Footrace
  • Arm wrestling match
  • Drinking contest
  • Round of strip poker

Referring to every other attraction as an “affront to God”

Demanding to see the Jonas Brothers Genetic Imagineering Compound to “verify the status of replacement Jonas Brothers, who will be released in case of sexual indiscretion, substance abuse, removal of purity rings or post-pubescent ugliness.”

Stating publicly “Sigfried and Roy’s bungalow during a weeklong amyl nitrate bender? Now that’s the true magic kingdom!”

Forging Scrooge McDuck’s signature as co-signer on your auto loan.

Asking if the next Mouseketeer reunion will be only open to successful, non-infamous “artists” or will it just be Britney Spears and Annette Funicello making out awkwardly for five minutes, “like last year.”

A bloated and drugged-up Sleeping Beauty, photographed only hours before her fatal overdose

A bloated and drugged-up Sleeping Beauty, photographed only hours before her fatal overdose

Failure to cover your children’s eyes whenever a pants-less Daisy Duck waddles by.

Outing the park’s heterosexual employees.

Holding a press conference to declare that your newly incorporated town, Hannah, MT is owed back payment on merchandising royalties.

Referring to park employees as “carnies” due to their refusal to produce a certified “Imagineering” degree.

Messing with the thermostat.

Making pretentious small talk during the tour. For instance:

“Goofy and Pluto, while both dogs, possess a ruling class/working class relationship. At a cursory glance they may appear to be equals. Further study of the two reveals vast differences. Goofy has clothes and can talk. Pluto, representing the long-exploited working class, is both literally and metaphorically naked and speechless, stripped of his protection and validity by his powerful owner…”

-CLT

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Man vs. Nature v.2

June 3, 2009
Signs that you are suffering from a black widow bite: 1. You have been asked to make significant changes to your will...

Signs that you are suffering from a black widow bite: 1. You have been asked to make significant changes to your will...

In the previous installment, we discussed nature vs. me in my current life. (This discussion, you’ll note, was much like any discussion with management. Mainly me talking and you listening or thinking of something else.)

Nature is a different kind of problem where I grew up.

El Paso, Texas.

It climate mirrors most of Arizona. Wrath of God heat. It never rains. When it does rain, it clogs the drain systems which were built on the assumption that “it never rains,” and, consequently have the capacity to hold between 0-1″ of rainwater.

Unlike Arizona, however, El Paso has yet to put together a quality online university or a 9-7 Super Bowl quality football team. We’ve also certainly never had a Hall of Fame bag boy for a franchise quarterback. And it goes without saying that we’ve never had a 38-year old quarterback who managed to throw his way out of Mike Martz’s “defense is for pussies” scheme and into Arizonian folklore.

Perhaps the turning point was Warner’s divorce of Susan Powter

brendawarner

Honey??!! Some of your fingernails are in my brain.

and subsequent marriage to a woman with fewer testicles than him.

NFL/

Honey??!! Your testicle is making it hard for me to breathe.

He’s become a legendary figure like Paul Bunyan or Andre the Giant. Cue NFL Film’s narration:

Kurt Warner. Raised in the northern Iowa wilderness by panthers, Warner would continue on to try out for the Green Bay Packers. Unable to read Brett Favre’s career intentions, Warner would settle on a much safer position, that of bag boy at the local Hyvee.

Even the 2nd shift manager knew they had something special, as Kurt would routinely hurl customers’ groceries 50+ yards into their open trunks. Still coasting on the cries of, “What an arm!” and “My eggs!” Kurt took his skills to the claustrophobic climes of football’s top arena: arena football.

Kurt’s success at the arena level was unparalleled. He led his Iowa Subisidies to victory after victory, with final scores that frequently rivalled NBA games. It was during this time that he married Susan Powter, an on-the-fence lesbian. He swept her off her experimenting feet, promising that, “Once you go bag, you never go back.”

Powter became known as the architect of Warner’s future and was frequently referred to, out loud, as “tough as nails,” due to her arm wrestling matches with Lenny Dykstra. During this time, Warner signed with the non-L.A. Rams and proceeded to tear every page out of their record books. These were subsequently replaced with new pages and the amount of the replacement docked from his suddenly hefty paycheck…

Anyway, nature.

El Paso fucking Texas. Scorpions, spiders, centipedes and snakes. You’d hear the horror stories. Jars over bed legs to keep the scorpions and centipedes from joining you in bed like a drunken frat boy with the clap. Aggressive black widow spiders who would bite you just for reaching into an area you couldn’t see clearly and settle back to collect the sizable inheritance. Snakes that would winter in your heating vents, complaining about how their hundred of kids wouldn’t visit.

We are legion. And we are rad-resistant.

We are legion. And we are rad-resistant.

But of all the horrors, nothing compares to the fucking roaches. Omnipresent. Fast. And so fucking many of them.

Did you know roaches will climb walls when they know they’re dying? Who knows why? Some leftover instinct from their early days as sun worshippers? Or perhaps their small brains figure everything trying to kill them is a flood?

We did not realize this until we bug-bombed our house. You could hear them falling off the ceiling. Hitting the lineoleum like the world’s smallest self-contained hailstorm.

And they’re immune to everything. Those that survived our bombing run would live on to sneer at the next gas attack.

They still haven’t figured out how to defeat their old nemesis, the shoe, however. But that day’s coming. Then they’ll be back, going all inner city youth on us, a couple hundred thousand strong, stealing our shoes. And coming back for our wallets and jewelry.

Just remember, if that crazy guy is right, and not simply raving to himself, beware of the apocalypse. It will be the survivors versus the roaches and they already have us outnumbered.

-CLT