Thursday, 5 February 2009

The Five People You Punch in Heaven

Jennie Here's the thing. I knew I had to ask someone to guest post for me (more than) a week ago. But I kept putting it off (standard) and then I put it off some more (even more standard) and then, by the time I absolutely HAD to ask someone, I put it off again (most standard of all). It got to the point where I was sort of embarrassed to ask anyone because then they'd be all, "when do you need me to have this written?" and I would have been, "um, tomorrow, please," and I would have felt bad BECAUSE if I did that to someone, they'd probably punch me in the face. So. I was faced with a dilemma. I briefly considered making up a fake blog by a fake person and then spending lots of real hours faking it all up with fake posts fakety fake fake fake and then having the FAKE blogger "guest post" for me, and then I thought about BEGGING someone to guest post last minute, but in the end, I decided to just make my boyfriend do it. He is so my bitch, you guys.


In Heaven, you can do whatever you want. You can eat candy all day and never gain weight. You can read all of the books you have ever wanted to read and still have more books to read when you’re done. But most importantly, you can take revenge on people. You can take revenge on your enemies and you can exact justice upon those that you feel deserve it. There’s a special room that you go into once a day, and every day there’s a different person in that room for you to punch. So who would be in this room during my first week there? These are...

The Five People You Punch in Heaven

1. Bill O’Reilly. Bill, I blame you for everything that is wrong with America. Sure, it may not all be your fault, but you sure as Hell aren’t doing anything to make it any better. If nothing else, you’re exacerbating the situation just by continuing to exist. While I may not have the power to stop you and your crusade to dumb down the American people, I can at least hit you as hard as I can, just once, and hope that I do some lasting damage to your smug, douchebag face. I’m sure that your Lake Michigan-sized ego will cushion you from the power of my mighty blow, but I will at least feel better about myself for having done it.

2. Dane Cook. Dane. Really. Your name is Dane. Is that short for something, or are you just a giant douche? You’re not funny. You’re not insightful. You’re not attractive. You are nothing. Remember those movies that you were in? Yeah, neither do I, because they were terrible. You remind me of dozens of guys with whom I went to high school and college. I don’t know whatever happened to those people because I didn’t care to follow their lives. If only I could ignore you as easily, Dane Cook, but you have a way of popping up out of nowhere like some kind of evil leprechaun. You know who you are, Dane Cook? You’re The Great Gazoo. Or worse, you’re Scrappy Doo. Fuck you, Dane Cook. I cannot wait to punch you in the face.

3. Delilah. Where do I start with you, you mistress of the lowest common denominator? Many an evening I’ve returned to my apartment building to hear your annoying voice on the radio in the lobby, doling out your ‘advice’ to the hapless souls who listen to and buy into your disgusting tripe. I’ve tried to change the station, imagining that someone would see me do it and hail me as a hero, but it seems that no other station comes in on that radio, at least not at that time of night. Do you reach out with your demonic powers into every public radio that you can find and force it to fix on your show? When I was younger I thought that you were just a local personality. You bugged me, but I let you slide. But when I found out that yours was, in fact, a syndicated program? That was when you made the list. I don’t like to hit women, but you, Delilah, are not a woman. You are a cancer on the air waves. You deserve every bite of my knuckle sandwich.

4. Scott Stapp. Creed is the worst band ever, man. You must realize this. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re so in love with yourself and your apparent success, maybe you’re so busy singing on mountain tops with your shirt unbuttoned and blowing in the wind, revealing your wife beater and lack of physical fitness, both of which tell me more about you as a human being than any of your supposed ‘lyrics’ ever will, that you just don’t get the fact that you suck. But you do suck, Scott Stapp, and your apparent popularity, however fleeting it was, still mystifies me to this day. My roommate during my freshman year of college was a big fan of yours. I know this not because he told me about it, but because he listened to your ‘songs’ over and over again. And it wasn’t really ‘songs’ as much as it was ‘song’. Over. And over. And over. I don’t blame my roommate for this, Scott Stapp. I blame you. Taste my fist, you no-talent ass-clown.

5. The "Comedians" of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. You might be a redneck if you’re one of these guys. Did I say ‘might be’? Because I meant ‘are definitely’. And did I say ‘redneck’? Because I meant ‘imbecile’. Why do you do this? When there was just one of you, and it was Jeff Foxworthy, I tolerated you. I could easily ignore just one bad comedian (unlike Dane Cook, who, as detailed above, has demonic, extra-dimensional powers). But then, suddenly, Jeff Foxworthy multiplied, and there were three more of him. There was you, Bill Engvall, and you, Ron White. And then there was you, Daniel Lawrence Whitney. The rest of you guys might know him better as Larry the Cable Guy. You didn’t know his real name, did you? He seems a lot less blue collar with a middle name like Lawrence, doesn’t he? Of the four of you, no one has done more to dumb down America than Larry has. I am in favor of accomplishing tasks, but I will never, EVER condone the actions of anyone who is attempting to ‘Git R Done’. That’s not a sentence, Larry. That’s just stupid sounds that only resemble words to idiots like yourself. And the thing that makes me the angriest is how that ‘phrase’ has permeated society. Alex Trebek says it on Jeopardy! occasionally. Alex Trebek! You have infiltrated the smartest game show on television with your asinine crap. The rest of your buddies here get one punch each, but you, my friend, get an ass-kicking. Enjoy your teeth, if you have any left, because soon you will not. Because I’m going to punch them all out of your mouth, is what I’m saying. Idiot.

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