The Rabbi

Once upon a time, I used to have a handful of go to jokes/stories.  They were long and I’d say they were funny and I’m pretty sure I never told these the same way twice.  I was reminded of one of these jokes the other day and so I thought I’d share my version of it.  Will anyone get through this entire thing?  I doubt it, but I’m in a writing sort of mood so here we go.

There was once a man named Tim.  Tim’s job relocated him to upstate New York, a place he’d never been before.  With the move, Tim had to find a new place to live so he got a realtor and started looking for houses.

Not long after his home search starts, Tim’s realtor shows him a nice, three bedroom home directly across the street from a Jewish temple.  The realtor assures him the neighborhood is safe and the schools nearby are wonderful, and after some deliberation, Tim and his fiancee agree that this is the house for them.  They make an offer and shortly thereafter find themselves moving into their new home.

Tim and his fiancee settle into their new lives in New York and everything is great for a few weeks.  But shortly after moving, a recurring noise starts coming from across the street at the temple.  At first, the noise, a sort of ringing sound, isn’t that annoying.  It rings occasionally, seemingly at no specific time or day and is only a minor nuisance.  But after a few months, the ringing becomes more consistent.  It wakes Tim up in the middle of the night and as soon as it stops and he falls back asleep, it starts up again.

Eventually the ringing stops and Tim and his fiancee forget about it entirely.  But after a few weeks of silence, the ringing starts up again and sleepless nights turn into sleepless weeks.  Finally, Tim’s fiancee tells Tim he HAS to do something about this as the ringing noise is starting to ruin their otherwise perfect home.

So Tim heads on over to the temple.  Being raised Catholic and having known no jews for the better part of his life, Tim’s never been inside a synagogue before and doesn’t really know what to expect.  Tim goes inside where he’s greeted by an elderly woman.  Tim says, “Excuse me, but I live across the street and I came over to talk about the ringing noise?”

The elderly woman smiles and tells Tim that she has no idea what he’s talking about, probably because she’s mostly deaf as Tim can hear the ringing coming from somewhere below him, and he’d be best off speaking to the rabbi.  She leads Tim to a small office where the Rabbi is reading scripture behind his desk.  The Rabbi looks up and greets Tim, “How can I help you?”

Tim explains the whole story – his move to New York, his new house, and finally he gets to the ringing noise.  “Rabbi,” he says, “this ringing noise, is there some way to make it stop?”

“Oh, no Tim, definitely not.  That’s very important.”

Tim replies, “Well Rabbi, it’s simply starting to drive me crazy, can you at least tell me what it is?”

“Oh Tim, that is an ancient Jewish secret and I can’t tell you because you’re not a rabbi.”

Tim, at a loss for words, thanks the Rabbi for his time and leaves.

Several months go by and the ringing comes and goes.  Tim’s fiancee suggests they just sell the house and move somewhere else, but the housing market has taken a dive and Tim can’t afford to take a loss on the house.  Finally, after more restless nights, Tim goes back to the temple to speak with the Rabbi. He explains that the noise is driving him crazy and if it can’t be turned off he at least needs to know what it is.  This noise, this noise that comes and goes, this noise that is an ancient Jewish secret, it has to be explained.  The Rabbi once again says, “I can’t tell you, you’re not a rabbi.”  Tim says, “So if I was a rabbi, then you could tell me?”  The Rabbi ponders this for a moment and says, “Well, if you go through the conversion process and then attend rabbinical school and become a rabbi, then yes, I don’t see why not.”

Tim decides that he MUST find out what this noise is and what it means, so he begins the conversion process, first so that he can become a Jew and finally so he can become a rabbi.  The conversion process is long and arduous, Tim takes Hebrew lessons every day after work.   He studies the Torah for hours on end, not caring so much at all about the Jewish religion but only caring about the ringing noise that has taken over his life.  This noise MUST be explained, he thinks.  Eventually, Tim’s Fiancee leaves him -  she can’t take the noise anymore and Tim has become obsessed with finding out what this noise is, so much so that he’s begun neglecting her.  After two years, Tim’s conversion is complete and he officially becomes a jew.  But, he’s only halfway there.  He takes out loans and quits his job so he can attend Rabbinical school full time.

Several more years pass, and Tim studies and studies and studies and eventually, he does become a rabbi.  After his Rabbinical school graduation, Tim immediately heads to the temple across the street and has another sitdown with the Rabbi.  “Rabbi,” he says, “I’ve done it.  I’ve spent the last 5 years of my life studying the Torah, becoming a Jew and finally, I am officially a rabbi just like you.  Can you please tell me what this noise is now?”

“Yes, of course, but nobody, not even me, can just TELL you what the noise is, you have to see it for yourself.”  The Rabbi opens his desk drawer and pulls out a key.  “Take this key and head down to the basement.  There you will find the answer that you’ve been looking for all these years.”

Tim thanks the Rabbi and rushes to the basement.  The basement door is locked, but Tim has the key from the Rabbi.  He unlocks the basement door and heads downstairs.  The door swings shut behind him and he’s thrown into complete darkness.  Even holding onto the railing, Tim struggles to make it down the stairs in the pitch darkness.  He walks further and further down the steps and the ringing noise seems faint in the distance.  Finally, after walking down what feels like several thousand steps, Tim finally reaches the basement.  He fumbles around for several minutes trying to find a light switch on the walls but only stumbles around in darkness.  The ground feels wet and muddy under his feet.  The ringing is faint, and distant, but Tim walks towards it as it’s the only direction he can sense.

After several hours of walking, Tim finally stumbles into what he thinks is the opposite wall.  He fumbles around the wall for several minutes, finally finding a door and then the handle.  He tries to turn the handle, but the door is locked.  “Dammit!”  Tim yells to nobody in particular.  He puts his ear up to the door and sure enough, the ringing is coming from behind the door, off in a distance.  Tim turns back around and stumbles all the way back through the pitch black room.

Tim makes it to the staircase and walks and walks all the way back up, having to take a break every 20 minutes or so to catch his breath.  “Well at least I’m getting a workout!” he thinks.

He finally reaches the top, opens the door and goes back to the Rabbi’s office.  He notices the clock on the wall and an entire day has passed since he first walked down the steps.  “Rabbi,” he starts, “I took the key and walked down to the basement – by the way, I think I might have gone down to the center of the Earth.”  The Rabbi laughs and says, “Yes, I haven’t been down there myself in quite some time but it is a very long staircase.”  “No kidding,” Tim continues, “Anyway, I got down there and, by the way, you might want to think about installing some lights.  So I get down there and walked around for hours and finally reached another door, and the ringing was louder but the door was locked.”

“Ah of course,” says the Rabbi, “You need the second key.”  He opens his desk drawer once again and pulls out a long, silver key.  “Take this key, it will unlock the door in the basement.”  Tim thanks the Rabbi, and after a long nap at home, he heads back to the Temple.

He goes to the basement, unlocks the door, walks down the thousands of steps in the pitch darkness (“I should have brought a flashlight!).  He stumbles several hours in darkness until he finally reaches the wall again.  He searches for the door and after finally reaching the knob, he pulls out the second key, puts it in the lock, turns the handle, and opens the door.

Tim is taken aback.  He stands in bewilderment as he looks out onto a vast icy tundra with no end in site.  The ground is frozen solid and the temperature has dropped 60 degrees.  Tim did not come prepared for this and only a man with a death wish would attempt to cross this without the proper supplies.

Tim turns around, walks back through the darkness and up the stairs.  He leaves the temple, gets into his car and heads off to the store where he purchases a parka, and some food rations.

He goes back to the temple, walks down the steps, into the darkness and back to the frozen tundra.  He opens the door, puts on his parka and starts hiking.

Tim walks for miles.  The color of the sky never changes.  There is no sun, only clouds.  Tim loses track of time but after his seventh “night” of camping Tim decides that if he walks for one more day without reaching the end he will have to give up as he doesn’t have enough supplies to continue much further.  But the ringing noise is getting distinctively louder and Tim carries on.  After several more hours of walking, Tim reaches a wall.  The wall extends upwards as far as the eye can see but dead in front of him is a tall door with the same looking handle as the door in the basement.  Tim reaches for the handle, tries to turn it…but wouldn’t you know, this door is locked.

Tim sighs, dejected but not defeated.  He turns around and starts the long walk back.  He trudges through the icy tundra, day and “night” stopping only several hours to rest his tired legs.  He makes it to the end, opens the door and gets to the pitch black basement.  “Dammit, I knew I forgot a flashlight!”  He stumbles through the basement, and all the way back up the thousand flight staircase, and reaches the top.  He goes back to the rabbi’s office where he notices the calendar on the desk has moved forward six full weeks!  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Tim thinks, ‘This noise really better be worth it.”

“Rabbi,” he starts, “I used the second key and walked all the way through this crazy icy tundra and got to a wall.”  “Oh yes, it’s been a long time but I do remember that dreadful place.  Quite cold, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yes, it is,” says Tim.  “Anyway, I got to the end of it and reached another locked door, can you help me out?”  The rabbi opens his desk drawer and pulls out a long, golden key.  “This ought to do it!” the Rabbi says.

Tim thanks the Rabbi, then heads off to the store for more supplies as well as a flashlight.  He goes back to the temple, down the thousands of flights of steps and into the basement where he finally was smart enough to bring a light.  He turns the light on only to realize the basement is completely and utterly empty and stretches as far as the light will allow him to see.  The ground is in fact, covered in dirt and mud but other than that, it’s what Tim imagines outer space looks like.  Tim walks through the basement and to the first door.  He opens the door into the tundra and walks through the tundra to the next wall.  Day and “night” he walks, moving slower than before as this trek has him utterly exhausted and he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest in what must be months.  He gets to the next door, pulls out the golden key, inserts it into the lock and opens the door.

“What the…” Tim mutters to himself as the door swings open and he’s immediately overcome with heat.

Fire is all around him.  It’s above him, it’s below him and it’s on both sides.  The only thing he can see aside from the flames (and how oddly controlled this fire seems!) is a very long, wooden bridge.  For some weird reason, the bridge doesn’t seem to catch fire and Tim watches in amazement for several minutes before ultimately realizing the bridge isn’t going to catch on fire along with the rest of this giant room.  He removes his parka, snow shoes, and most of the rest of his clothing before telling himself, “Screw it!” and he attempts to cross the bridge.

Tim walks for miles and miles, it feels like days, when he realizes he hasn’t come prepared for this.  But the ringing noise is getting louder and louder with each step he takes and so he continues on.  Finally, he reaches the end of the bridge, only to stumble into another wall with another door.  “Oh give me a break!”  Tim yells to the sky.  He tries to open the door but again it’s locked.  He tries his basement key, he tries the tundra key, he tries the fire key, but none of them open the door.

Tim turns back around and once again, crosses the bridge.  He gets to the end, puts on his parka and the rest of his clothes and walks back through the icy tundra.  He gets to the pitch black basement where he navigates back to the staircase.  He walks all the way up the staircase and makes it back to the rabbi’s office, where the calendar on the desk taunts him.  3 months have gone by since he left this office the last time.

“Rabbi…I…I don’t know what to do.  I made it through the tundra and this time to this insane room full of fire and a wooden bridge that never seems to go up in flames.”

The Rabbi chuckles, “Oh yes, it’s truly a mystery how that bridge doesn’t catch fire, isn’t it?”

Tim says, “Well sure, I guess, whatever.  Anyway, I got to the end of the bridge but there was another locked door.”

The Rabbi opens his desk drawer.  “Oh of course, you need this key.”  The Rabbi hands Tim a long, metal key.  “Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” Tim says, “But if there are any other keys I need can you just give them to me now?”

“Oh, no, I think that’s it.  I apologize, it’s just been such a long time since I’ve been down there.”

Tim takes the new key and heads to the store, where he buys more food rations as well as several bottles of water.  He heads back to the temple, down the steps and through the dark room.  He gets to the frozen tundra and walks all the way to the room of fire.  He crosses the wooden bridge, feeling a horrifying heat but never really feeling in danger and finally he gets to the end where he reaches the door.  He pulls out his new key and opens the door.

Tim stands in shocked silence.  He enters a room completely full of people.  White people, black people, tall people, short people.  People as far as the eye can see.  And the noise!  Not only does he hear the sounds of millions of people speaking in every language imaginable but the ringing noise is deafening.  Tim feels like he’s standing next to a 747 taking off.  But he pushes on.  He starts to walk through the giant crowd, pushing and shoving his way past millions, maybe even billions of people.  The walk itself doesn’t feel that long, at least not in comparison to the fire bridge or the tundra, but it takes him countless hours to shove his way through this crowd while trying to keep his balance.

And the noise!  The ringing noise is starting to hurt Tim’s ears, yet nobody else seems to be distracted or upset with it.  Tim pushes his way all the way through the croswd and reaches a wall and one last door.  “Well this is it,” Tim thinks.  “The Rabbi said no more keys.”  He reaches for the door handle, and tries to turn it.  But it’s locked.  “FUCK ME!”  Tim shouts to the crowd.  Nobody pays any attention.

Tim turns around and pushes his way through the crowd.  He gets to the room of fire and crosses the bridge.  He crosses the frozen tundra to the darkened basement where he nearly runs through and all the way up the steps and back to the Rabbi’s office.  A full calendar year has gone by since he was last there.

“Rabbi, you said no more keys!”

The Rabbi shakes his head and then realizes, “Tim.  I’m so sorry.  You were probably in that crowd forever!”

“Uh, yes, of course.  Where did all those people come from?”

“I can’t just explain everything to you, Tim.”  The Rabbi says.  “But this, this should be the last key you’ll need.”  He hands Tim a long, diamond encrusted key.

Tim gets his supplies ready and heads back to it.  He walks down the long staircase and through the darkened basement.  He treks through the frozen tundra and into the room of fire.  He crosses the fire bridge and makes it into the crowded room.  He pushes and shoves his way through the crowded room, ignoring apologies as nobody seems to be paying any attention to him.

He finally gets all the way through the room and to the wall and the last door.  The noise, this noise is so loud, so unbearable that Tim thinks his eardrums are going to pop.  But he’s finally done it.  He’s spent the last decade of his life – first becoming a Jew, then becoming a rabbi, and then navigating his way through this insane corridor of strange rooms all to find out what this ringing noise is.  It’s cost him his job, his fiancee, his family.  But he knows, once he opens this door, it will all make sense.  It will all be worth it.

He puts in the diamond key, and turns the knob.

He starts to push the door open.

The sound is so loud now that Tim worries it might kill him.

The door opens and Tim is hit with a giant, blinding flash of light.  His eyes finally settle, and do you know what he sees?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t tell you, you’re not a rabbi.

 

 

I’m Going for a Walk

I saw a few signs while I was out on a walk the other day that I thought I’d share.

The first was a PETA ad.  It was a picture of a kitten’s head on a chicken’s body and it read, “If your cat tasted like chicken, would you eat it?”

First of all PETA, if my cat tasted like chicken, OF COURSE I’d eat it.  Because, as well all know, everyone that owns a pet would, in a heartbeat, kill it, skin it, butcher it, season it, cook it and eat it instead of I don’t know, going to a grocery store.  Who needs all that hassle of having to go all the way over to the store when you have a perfectly good pet quietly sitting on your lap that you could murder and eat?  Why spend all that time and energy having to put on pants and shoes and get in your car and drive to the store when you could simply just eat the pet that you care for and that loves you unconditionally?  It’s so much easier and I’m sure my kids will understand!  Sorry Billy, we had to eat Mittens for dinner because Mommy and Daddy thought she’d be delicious and also way more convenient!

Anyway, I for one was insulted by this sign.  There’s a clear difference between an animal that lives in your home and an animal that’s raised in a farm for the sole purpose of being eaten.  If we lived in a parallel universe where cats did in fact taste like chicken and there were cat farms scattered across the world all for human consumption, then I imagine I would eat cat.  And in this parallel universe, if families had pet chickens walking around and shitting all over your house, I suppose I wouldn’t eat them then either.  But since we don’t live in this parallel universe, and because it’s delicious, I think I’ll continue to eat chicken and not eat my pets.

I couldn’t find this ad online but I did find a few others I thought I’d share.

PETA-Billboard-Cat-Turkey

This was the closest one I could find, and this one to me is even more insulting.  KIDS, it directs.  “KIDS, we know your brains aren’t fully developed and many of you are little morons anyway so maybe our logical fallacies will work on you!”

At least PETA is aware of who their target demographic should be: easily brainwashable idiots.  And by the way, if I had a cat that had a cat’s head and a turkey’s body, I would be really torn as to what to do with it.  I think I’d probably try to get a reality show and call it Jordan and his Turcat where we’d tour the country trying to find a doctor that could give my poor pet an entire body transplant.  I could see myself doing that for a while, at least until Thanksgiving.

peta ad 3

This one is just confusing to me.  Look, if aliens ever reach Earth (unlikely, why would any advanced species want anything to do with the disaster we’ve got going on here?), I think we’re going to have a lot bigger problems on our hands than them testing cosmetics on us.  You’re talking about a super advanced civilization coming to Earth and being like, “Hey, Chitrangda Singh, why don’t you come over here and let’s see if this lipstick looks good!   Oh whoops, I accidentally stabbed you in the face!”  I think we’re going to need to be far more concerned about them carving out the entire planet for whatever resources we have left to really care so much about that.

peta 4

This is a really common theme that I found lots of versions of.  I chose this particular one for a few reasons.  First of all, I think this should have been the alien ad because what in the fucking hell did they do to Wendy Williams here?  Someone should go to jail for assault by Photoshop.  What happened to her face?  And in what universe am I supposed to believe that’s what Wendy Williams’ body looks like?  If you substituted this freak show version of Wendy Williams with the alien from the previous ad, I’m not entirely sure I would be able to tell the difference, except that I think Wendy Williams looks faker.

I do like that PETA is nowhere near above using sex to sell their mostly bullshit message though.  If it can sell beer, and cars, why can’t it try to trick you into going vegan?

So I saw one other sign on my walk that I thoroughly enjoyed.  It was just a plain sign on a van with text only that said, “Yeswebuycars.com.”  I thought to myself, that’s a good website, I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on over there.  Like, I’d be thoroughly confused if I went to yeswebuycars.com and it ended up being a chain of pizza restaurants serving the greater Minneapolis area.  You fooled me yeswebuycars.com!  And why must I live outside your delivery location?  Why are you even advertising in the DC metro area?  It just makes no sense!

But it made me want to purchase my own new website.  NoIDontWantYourCar.com.  People could come to my website and email me.

“To whom it may concern:  I have a 1996 Dodge Caravan for sale with 160,000 miles, are you interested and if so what could you offer me?”

And I could reply, “No I don’t want your car.  Dot com.”  It’d be a gigantic waste of time for everyone but at least my URL would also be pretty explanatory.

Finally, I walked past a Church of Scientology building, which up until now I hadn’t realized was pretty close to my neighborhood.  They too had a sign out front that I liked.  It said,

“Free tests!  Personality – Aptitude – IQ”

You know how to pass a Scientology IQ test?  By not going inside the building.

Walks are fun.

Rambo: 5th Blood

So did anyone else catch the exciting news from the weekend?  No no, it has nothing to do with those two dumbasses that bombed the Boston Marathon and then, I don’t know, didn’t have any sort of plan to get out of the country or I don’t know, BOSTON.

No, over the weekend my Washington Redskins drafted the one and only Bacarri Rambo from the University of Georgia.

NOT the same guy that fought in Vietnam.

NOT the same guy that fought in Vietnam.

Now, I don’t follow college football all too closely so I’ve never even heard of this guy but he just became my favorite player.  Tell me that RAMBO isn’t going to be the coolest goddamn jersey of all time!  I did go to a Skins game last season and saw this big fat guy wearing a jersey that did say “BIG POPPA” on the back.  It took me a second to realize that we hadn’t signed Deshawn Big Poppa from the St. Louis Rams, but that this guy was just wearing a custom made jersey.  I can only think of one other jersey of all time that even rivals RAMBO in its awesomeness and that was HE HATE ME of the long defunct XFL.  But even RAMBO kicks the total shit out of HE HATE ME.

I’ve never actually owned a Redskins jersey before despite my love of racist mascots, but it might just be about damn time to pick one up.  I would rock out a Rambo jersey everywhere I go.  Going to the movies?  I’m wearing my Rambo jersey.  Going to the zoo?  RAMBO.  Funeral?  RAMBO, MOTHERFUCKER.  Out on a date?  Haha, just kidding, women don’t like me.

NOT the same guy that was attacked by a bunch of moron cops in the Oregon wilderness.

NOT the same guy that was attacked by a bunch of moron cops in the Oregon wilderness.

Speaking of Rambo, growing up as a child of the 80′s it’s sort of amazing that I’ve never seen a single Rambo movie from start to finish.  These movies, for the record, are insanely titled.  The first movie is simply called “First Blood,” followed by “First Blood Part 2″, but then we skip straight to “Rambo 3″ and finally a few years ago, a roided out Sly Stallone made, simply, “Rambo.”  What the fucking hell?  Are you allowed to have a Rambo 3 when Rambo wasn’t even in the title of the first two movies?  Rambo 3 should totally have been called “Second Blood” and then the last movie should have been titled “Third Blood 2: What the Fuck it’s 20 Years Later and We’re Still Making Rambo Movies, Isn’t Sylvester Stallone Dead From a Painkiller Overdose?”  It’s a bit long for movie theater marquees but hey, it would have been descriptive.

IS close, personal friends with Brian Dennehy in real life.

IS close, personal friends with Brian Dennehy.

Now, I don’t know if Bacarri Rambo has any similarity to John Rambo, Vietnam Vet and overall bad ass.  Does Bacarri Rambo suffer from Vietnam flashbacks?  Is Bacarri Rambo an expert at extracting POWs?  More importantly, is Bacarri Rambo as good at pass coverage at John Rambo is at killing Vietnamese people with bows and fucking arrows? Let’s just hope that Bacarri Rambo and John Rambo don’t both share that whole steroid abuse thing, because while it’ll make your head crushing skills in the Vietnamese jungle totally kick ass, it will also get you a 4 game suspension in the NFL.

Was NOT tortured by the Viet Cong but WAS tortured by the SAT Math section.

Was NOT tortured by the Viet Cong but WAS tortured by the SAT Math section.

So here’s to you, Bacarri Rambo, my new favorite player.

Poping it Up!

As you may be aware, Pope Molester Protector XIV has retired, the first time this has happened in 600 years.  A Pope’s reign almost always ends in one of three ways:  his natural death, his retirement, or his utter humiliation from what the Church has been up to for a thousand years that he’s forced to admit all of their crimes and ask to be put in jail.  Haha, just kidding.

In any case, whenever a Pope leaves his post, all the Cardinals get together in secret and vote on who gets to speak for God next because apparently God is way into democracy, and since all of it is bullshit anyway I guess they needed some sort of rules.

I figured, today would be a good day to take a look at some of the top frontrunners as to who the next pope would be:

Cardinal Baron Von Lichtenhauser, Archduke of Hammashburg, Germany

pope1

Pros: Sports an impressive 38-2 record in the Cardinal Boxing League with a whopping 34 knockouts.  Is able to juggle nine rosaries at time – blindfolded.  Has only molested three children.

Cons:  Can’t read or write.  Doesn’t know how to drive stick shift.

Cardinal Xi Yu Wi Min, Archduke of Xi Xi Gandau Minh Province, China

pope2

Pros: Makes a great chicken casserole.  Once bowled a 240.

Cons: Drives in the left lane with his blinker on.  Is an unapologetic lover of Julia Roberts movies.

Cardinal Trapp Romney, Archduke of Boston, MA, USA

pope3

Pros: Totally loaded, drives sweet Benz.  Owns several banks in Europe.  Looks exactly like Mitt Romney.

Cons:  Never learned how to tie his own shoes.  Doesn’t turn off the lights after he leaves a room.  Looks exactly like Mitt Romney.

Cardinal Allister Chappington Worthington III, Archduke of Hamishphershersher, United Kingdom

pope4

Pros: Knows all the words to the Shawshank Redemption.  Blows his own glass.  Handy with a chainsaw.

Cons: Flat out looks like a pedophile.

Cardinal Umbuntu Ghali Mutombo, Archduke of Swazinamatu, Zambia

pope5

Pros: Excelled in the 40 yard dash at the annual pope combine.  Has a 36″ vertical.  Is saving himself for marriage.

Cons:  Hands of stone.  Flunked the Pope Wunderlic Exam.

Cardinal Julio Iglesias Shakira, Archduke of Tegucigalpa, Honduras

pope6

Pros: Fluent in all of the Star Trek languages.  An avid supporter of women in the arts.  Four time salesman of the year at a small trinket company.

Cons: Love yarmulkes but hates jews.  Actually, that’s a pro.

Pro: Hates jews.

Sister Eunice Douglas, New York City, NY, USA

CT  MET-OBIT-MAYER

Pros: Has a deep understanding of the Catholic Church, loves all mankind, gracious, humble.

Cons: Has a vagina.

And there you have it, who’s it going to be?  Only time will tell!

Law and Order Criminal Intent is the Best Show Ever part 2

Alright, due to the HUGE response part 1 generated, I figured I’d continue these.  Also I was drunk and Game of Thrones was too difficult to follow, so why not toss on another episode of my favorite bad tv show of all time, Law and Order: Criminal Intent!

This episode was a real doozy and one I’d never seen before.

Season 1, Episode Twelve

EPISODE TITLE: Crazy!

And boy was it!  This entire episode was so stupid and convoluted I’m not even sure I can describe it well, but just like Detectives Goren and Eames, no case should be too difficult for me to recap, no matter how stupid it might be.

The episode opens on Steve Keaton from Family Ties sitting in a crowded restaurant talking to what I imagine Albert Brooks looked like when he was 30 years old.  Mr. Keaton takes a call and steps away only to show nobody in particular that he was recording his entire dinner conversation, boy that’s odd!  We also learn that Mr. Keaton is a prosecution friendly expert psychiatric witness and is attempting to date a girl that is WAY too hot and young for him, played here by former supermodel Stephanie Seymour.  He makes various promises to her while trying to get her drunk enough to have sex with his corpse.  Help with a traffic ticket here, a fill-in for a bridge game there, you know, promises.  She refuses his advances because, I’m guessing, she has eyes.

No more, Grandpa, I have to drive.

No more, Grandpa, I have to drive.

Next, Mr. Keaton shows up at a Bar Mitzvah, per his non-girlfriend’s request.  Keaton or Dr. Charles Webb as he goes by in this universe, was brought to the Bar Mitzvah by his non-girlfriend because the non-girlfriend’s sister is having some weird problem with her 4 year old kid.  He’s a criminal psychiatrist after all so naturally he’s the perfect person to talk to her.  We all know that there’s nothing that 4 year old girls like more than talking to creepy old men they don’t know.  The non-girlfriend’s sister is also recently estranged from her rich heart surgeon husband and it’s their kid having the Bar Mitzvah.  Got all that?  Come on, keep up, nobody said this episode was simple.

Next thing you know, the Bar Mitzvah boy’s father is dead in the bathroom.  Hey, you know what they say about dead, Jewish doctors?  I don’t either but I bet it’s racist.

OPENING CREDITS!

Eames and Goren are on the scene and we’re about to get a taste of Goren’s previously established olfactory ability when he smells gin on the back of the victims neck.  Wait, really?  I’m still trying to piece together what happened here.  Either the killer poured gin onto the back of the victims neck,  or, I don’t know, magic.  Whatever it is, I suppose the scent of gin shows up on the back of the victim’s neck.  Ok, sure, let’s just go with it.

Mmm...lysol.

Shhhh, I love you.

Naturally, they go talk to the ex-wife because she’s the only suspect so far as they don’t have all of the knowledge we do that somehow Steve Keaton is involved, after all he was the only focus during the cold open so he’s obviously involved.  If only Goren and Eames had Netflix they could fast forward and get to the real suspect but instead we’re about to be treated to 20 minutes of mostly nonsene.

Anyway, the ex-wife and the dead husband were working out the divorce and only had custody left to decide, which should be easy now that the father is busy being dead, presumably from a gunshot wound to the head and not acute neck gin poisoning.

Back to Mr. Keaton and his non-girlfriend at an art store where he tries to buy her a sculpture of Sarah Jessica Parker but she can’t accept such a generous gift.

No, really, please don't get this for me.

No, REALLY, please don’t get this for me.

By the way, Mr. Keaton sounds like he’s practically stalking this woman, yet despite him calling her 14 times in one evening, she continues to date him.  Man, it must be hard to find a good guy in New York City.  Is getting out of a $50 traffic ticket really worth getting called 14 times a night by the Cryptkeeper?  Still though, she makes it clear that her legs are going to be closed to him for the foreseeable future, which should give him plenty of time to refill his Cialis prescription.

Back at the station, Eames and Goren start looking for people at the Bar Mitzvah who may or may not have been drinking gin and tonics or martinis and eventually figure out that the dead husband was absolutely destroying his wife in the divorce agreement.  He got the house, the car, and their antique dildo collection while she got a bag of grapes and a cement block all thanks to what appears to be some shady dealings between the dead husband, the mob and the judge involved in the case (almost none of this actually matters in the end, I’m just trying to explain just how ridiculous this entire episode was).

Then there are about five more red herrings and plot twists that truly don’t matter and I can’t even begin to describe them all here but we eventually also find out that the ex-wife had accused the dead husband of molesting their daughter but he had some MORE favors called in and got a gag order on that and stopped any investigation from proceeding.  At this point, Goren still suspects the wife because it’s the only thing that makes sense to him, after all, if your husband was raping your four year old daughter you too would hire a gin-swilling hitman to off him too.

Keaton meets with Young Albert Brooks in a car where we find out that Young Albert Brooks was hired by Keaton to commit the murder.  Keaton does a bunch of bizarre things in this scene, such as pay Young Albert Brooks in everything except hundred dollar bills, ask him to kill Detective Goren and Eames for bothering his non-girlfriends sister, and accuse Young Albert Brooks’ $15 watch of being a wire.

Your dad was great in Defending Your Life.

Dude, I don’t take wampum.

After some top notch detective work, Goren and Eames come to the conclusion that a cop from Westchester was the hitman, and trust me the details are too stupid to explain here, but they start to look for the ex-wife’s friend or relative in law enforcement that might have been the hitman.  This leads them to also see that the wife’s sister (Keaton’s non-girlfriend) had a traffic ticket wiped away clean and that’s the only lead they’ve got, which leads them to the prosecutor who zeroed out the ticket which in turns leads them to Steve Keaton, the guy that actually requested the ticket be wiped clean.  Got all that again?  Good, because it gets stupider.

Back at the station, one of the waiters from the Bar Mitzvah picks out police officer Young Albert Brooks from a series of pictures and remembers, of course, that he was at the bar drinking gin and tonics.  I barely remember what my middle name is, but this guy remembers some rando at the bar from a few weeks ago and what he was drinking.

Back at Keaton’s apartment, he is still getting completely denied by Stephanie Seymour, who CONTINUES TO DATE HIM, despite his insistence on calling her 27 times a day and leaving vials of his blood on her doorstep every morning.  Maybe she’s just into all the Worther’s Originals he’s surely keeping in his pockets.

After getting shut down one last time, Keaton decides to kick things up a notch and CONFESSES to the hit, thinking that will be THE WAY to finally get into her pants.

Well naturally he’s wrong because Stephanie Seymour excuses herself and he says, “Don’t do anything foolish, LIKE TELL ANYONE!  You know what I’m capable of now.”  Dude, get a grip.  The hammed acting in this scene is nearly too much to take, even by Criminal Intent standards.

Did you receive the scarf I made you out of my pubic hair?

Did you receive the scarf I made you out of my pubic hair?

And it’s time for a little Goren/Eames trickery as Eames approaches our favorite hitman at a bar, pretending to need an exact similar hit that Keaton had hired him for, how creative.  It seems that Young Albert Brooks has a thing for being paid to kill child molesters, but even he isn’t stupid enough to fall for her shennanigans.

However, he IS dumb enough to call Keaton as soon as she leaves his car and he is immediately placed under arrest because his phone was bugged and the cops heard everything.  At his interrogation, Young Albert Brooks decides to cut a deal and gives up Keaton, who is then placed under arrest for murder, but this tale is far from over which is unfortunate for me the viewer.

Over at his arraignment, Keaton pleads not guilty by reason of insanity, at which point this whole episode begins to get even more ridiculous.  In the judges chambers, Keaton’s attorney argues that Keaton’s behavior has been paranoid and crazy over the last month and even has the incriminating recorded dinner conversation from the very beginning of the episode proving that Keaton made no attempt that he was trying to cover his tracks, thereby proving he is insane.  Now I’m no attorney but none of this made any sense to me but the judge tells the DA and Goren that there’s a good chance Keaton will get off in a jury trial, which basically means it’s time for Goren to get tricky, finally!

Over in jail, Keaton meets with his non-girlfriend because she is the dumbest woman in New York.  She says she’s going to testify on his behalf, but basically only because a child molesting father is dead and he has the balls to CONTINUE to try to have sex with her, which fails one more time.

Over at the art gallery, the owner remembers Keaton and the non-girlfriend and basically their entire interaction despite this having taken place weeks or possibly even months ago.  She’s gotten some new sculptures in that look like something a dog shit out of its ass, but also remembers Keaton being way into her and her not really reciprocating the feelings.  Christ lady, maybe you should spend more time trying to convince suckers to buy the world’s worst art and less time getting all up in their business.

Yes that's right, we specialize only in the world's ugliest sculptures.

Why yes, I did sculpt this with my own feces.

Goren eventually figures out that the molestation report is mostly bogus and after talking to the 4 year old kid, realizes she had an allergic reaction to ice cream, shit her pants, and her father cleaned her up, and no molestation ever took place.  Also, what’s with this 4 year old always talking to weird old men?  First Dr. Webb/Steve Keaton, then Detective Goren.  This is not going to bode well in the future, she’s going to turn into Stephanie Seymour.  She also tells Goren that she talked to Keaton about the day she wasn’t molested.

Goren takes this new information to the non-girlfriend, explaining to her that the kid was never molested and Keaton must have known about it from the 10 minute conversation he had with her at the Bar Mitzvah, meaning he didn’t care that the father wasn’t a molester and was only trying to get his penis wet.  The balls on this guy keep getting bigger, and not just from prostate medication he’s taking.

Back at the station, DA Carver and Goren throw everything at Keaton, explaining that they know the abuse allegation was false, Keaton knew it, and he’s going to jail for a very long time.

Finally, Goren goes total Goren on Keaton, because it’s not Criminal Intent without a stupid confession given to the police at the every end.  Goren basically insults Keaton about his lack of ability to get a woman until Keaton gives it all up.

And you are also aware that you'll never be able to resell that hideous statue you bought.

And you are also aware that you’ll never be able to resell that hideous statue you bought.

After confessing, DA Carver finishes the episode off telling Keaton’s attorney, “Your client’s not insane, he’s in love, maybe it’s hard to tell the two apart but the law can.”

LESSONS TO BE LEARNED:

Women who are 50 years younger than you are never going to blow you for paying off a few traffic tickets and you know, committing murder.

It should also be mentioned that despite my 2,000+ word recap of this episode, I left out a fair amount of the useless shit that happened, not to mention that no words can justify just how terrible an acting performance was on display from Steve Keaton and Stephanie Seymour.

Until next time!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

USA USA USA USA USA

So my beloved Maryland Terrapins played at Duke on Sunday and proceeded to get the shit kicked out of them.  Being a Maryland grad and long-time fan of the basketball team, this wasn’t exactly something new.  Most of us rational fans go into the game knowing, “We could win this game!  (But we’re probably going to get the shit kicked out of us).”  Anyway,  something happened during the game that got me to thinking.

At one point early on, our Ukrainian center Alex Len went to the free throw line.  The Duke fans, notable as being some of the “best” fans in the country, started to chant “USA!  USA!” at him.  I was…confused.  What does shouting USA! at a 19 year old sophomore in college mean exactly?  Yes, Dukies, Alex Len is not from this country, does shouting USA! at him imply he should go back to where he came from?  Is chanting USA! at someone supposed to remind them how much better we are?  For the record, Alex Len is a consensus top 10 (and in some cases top 3 and top 2) draft pick when he inevitably leaves school this year.  Mister Irrelevant put it best I think:

The crowd chanted “USA” at Alex Len as he shot free throws. That’s some xenophobic commentary from a very smart group of kids. They did the same thing to Greivis Vasquez a few years back. Everyone likes to get mad at the Maryland students for saying “sucks” a lot and the occasional curse word, but at least the Terp crowd isn’t known for mocking the central premise of America as a land of opportunity.

I have noticed that as a college team’s fan base gets academically smarter, they also get athletically dumber.  I remember my last year of college, Maryland fans (who had steadily been rising in the rankings as one of the nations best public schools) would shout absolutely cringe-worthy things to the refs and opposing teams.

So anyway, I don’t get the USA! chant in this situation.  All it shows me is that you’re a jackass.

Anyway, I thought I’d give you some advice on when it is and when it is not okay to chant USA!

WHEN IT’S OKAY TO CHANT USA!

If you’re at a rally celebrating our nation, or our nation’s history (for the purposes of this post I am going to stay as apolitical as possible).  It’s as if to say, yes, I love the USA!

We've got the highest bacon per capita of any civilized country!  USA!  USA!

We’ve got the highest bacon per capita of any civilized country! USA! USA!

WHEN IT’S NOT OK TO CHANT USA!

If you’re at a rally full of people who claim that the president is foreign despite nothing but evidence to the contrary and it’s being used to slur said president.  Although I guess if you’re at this rally in the first place, you’re already sort of an idiot.

Aw, I got glue all over my hands!  USA!  USA!

Aw, I got stupid all over my hands! USA! USA!

WHEN IT’S OKAY TO CHANT USA!

If you’re at the Olympics during a medal ceremony for an event that the USA wins a gold medal in.  We’re allowed to be proud every now and then.

About three people in the world who aren't porn stars can get away with this mustache.  Michael Phelps is one of them.

About three people in the world who aren’t porn stars can get away with this mustache. Michael Phelps is one of them.  USA!

 

WHEN IT’S NOT OKAY TO CHANT USA!

If you’re at the Olympics during a medal ceremony where we did not medal at all. That looks foolish, and is also confusing for viewers.

We are not allowed to cheer.

We are not allowed to cheer.

WHEN IT’S OKAY TO CHANT USA!

If it’s 1988 and Hacksaw Jim Duggan is on the way to the ring.  Who DIDN’T used to love this guy?

RIP Hacksaw Jim Duggan: 1954 - WAIT, HE'S NOT DEAD?

RIP Hacksaw Jim Duggan: 1954 – WAIT, HE’S NOT DEAD?

WHEN IT’S NOT OKAY TO CHANT USA!

When it’s 2013 and you see the Iron Sheik walking down the street.  Chanting USA! at him might get you punched in the face.  No seriously, he’s crazy.

By the way, this reminds me of one of the more hilarious scandals in WWF history, where Hacksaw Jim Duggan and the Iron Sheik were pulled over after an event for DUI and were busted for weed and cocaine.  They were in-ring enemies but in real life they were buddies who liked to drink and get stoned together.  If that’s not a fun story I don’t know what is.

No, I'm not kidding, he's really, really crazy now.  I would highly recommend against approaching him in public.

No, I’m not kidding, he’s really, really crazy now. I would highly recommend against approaching him in public.

WHEN IT’S OKAY TO CHANT USA!

When you’re at a party to watch your favorite boxer fight this Russian asshole who killed your favorite boxer’s friend.  Also we’re in the middle of the Cold War.  But in the end, you still come to respect the Russian boxer much as the Russians come to respect your guy because hey, it’s Rocky, and can’t we all change?

We can totally cut costs by sharing needles.

We can totally cut costs by sharing needles.

WHEN IT’S NOT OKAY TO CHANT USA!

When you’re a rich, white, entitled piece of shit 20 year old who has had just about everything in their life handed to them and you’re screaming it at a sophomore in college who has probably has had it much harder than you.  Oh, and they’re also one of the top prospects in the country and had to learn English in two years among all the other drastic changes in his life.

I’ll just leave this here.

 

I Love Cable TV Movie Blurbs

I want to be the guy in charge of writing the two-three sentence movie descriptions they display on the guide while you’re browsing around tv.  I also need to start paying more attention to these (especially for the REALLY bad movies) so I can make this post longer.  I did notice two the other day I thought I’d mention.

I was browsing around channels and first saw Chill Factor on tv, a movie that I’m pretty sure nobody saw except for maybe Cuba Gooding Jr’s immediate family (and even that is questionable).  Here’s what Comcast told me about this award winner:

Chill Factor: The winning chemistry between Cuba Gooding and Skeet Ulrich Sparks this chase thriller. The two men deliver a chemical weapon to a military base but terrorists are after the device and if it’s not kept below thirty degrees it will detonate. One star, intense violence, coarse language.

First of all, winning chemistry?  Has Skeet Ulrich ever been described as having “winning chemistry” with anyone?  Skeet Ulrich could enter a science fair and not come close to winning chemistry.  Also, doesn’t this movie just sound like a much, much shittier version of Speed?  Replace Keanu Reeves with Cuba Gooding and Sandra Bullock with Skeet Ulrich.  Replace an explosive bus with a chemical device that has to be kept cold – BAM, you’ve got Chill Factor.  At least whoever was responsible for writing this blurb was wise enough to only give it one star, and even that’s probably generous.

One other one I noticed the other day -

The Specialist. Sylvestor Stallone as an explosive expert recruited by a woman, Sharon stone, to avenge the murder of her parents by Cuban American smugglers. Tedious in the extreme. Crime, drama.

Okay, what in the hell does “tedious in the extreme” mean?  Is that supposed to be a description of the movie, or how you feel when watching it?  Look, I saw the Specialist many years ago and if it’s one thing, it’s tedious.  EXTREMELY tedious.  No star rating on this one but if Chill Factor gets one star, I can’t see giving this one any more than that.

Law and Order Criminal Intent is the Best Show Ever part 1

Many years ago, I was on vacation with my then girlfriend, flipping around channels looking for something to watch on tv.  We were at the beach and had just come in from a night out, looking to call it a night with our regular best friend, television.  It was on this night that I discovered a tv show so amazingly bad that for the next few years, we would watch it regularly to laugh at just how terrible it was.

I’ve long been a fan of bad movies, which is probably why this one television show so captured my attention.  The show?  Law and Order: Criminal Intent, starring the one and only Vince D’onofrio, who up until this time I had only known from the Thirteenth Floor (not a bad, though predictable movie) and as Private Pyle in Full Metal Jacket.

Law and Order Criminal Intent, which I will from here on refer to simply as CI, soon became one of my favorite television shows.  The first episode I ever watched consisted of Detective Goren (D’onofrio) inspecting a body that had recently been pulled off the beach after it had been festering for days, yet he still had the olfactory capability of recognizing the scent of lavender on the body.  I was immediately hooked. If this man could get the scent of lavender from a dead body that had been rotting on the beach for nearly a week, he could do anything.

Over the years, some show staples emerged:  horribly acted villains who more often that not also had terrible accents, waitresses who could remember daily minutia with photographic memory like skill, amazing cameos by actors you’d long thought had disappeared, and most importantly, the inevitable trickery used by Detective Goren where he got the suspect to admit their crimes, all while their pathetic lawyer looked on and shook their head in disgrace.

I eventually lost interest in the show, partially because it became boring and obvious but also because after maybe 7 or 8 seasons, Vince D’Onofrio was replaced by Chris Noth and eventually Jeff Goldblum (seriously).

I’ve only seen most of these episodes once (and missed TONS I’m sure), usually when they first aired.  Now that I’ve rebooted my blog, I thought that a fun regular post would be recapping the show starting at the beginning.  How long will this last?  I have no idea.  Probably not long, and nobody is reading this anyway.  Would this make a lot more sense to do if this show was still current?  Of course.  Why am I doing this?  I am not sure.  Will you find this entertaining?  I hope so.  Am I going to stop asking questions to myself now?  Yes.

For the purposes of this experiment, I’m going to skip over any episodes I don’t find exceedingly funny or too complex to explain, and start from where I first discovered the show, Season 1, Episode 5.

Episode title: “Jones”

Plot Summary:  We meet Henry, cheating husband, Yale law grad, cokehead, gambling addict, and oh yeah, MURDERER!  Henry’s hot Latina girlfriend wants Henry to leave his bitchy wife, mostly because she’s got a penchant for finding Henry’s used condoms.

They get into a scuffle and Henry, naturally, drowns her in the bathtub.  That settles that!  We meet Henry’s next girlfriend.  This guy sure does well with the ladies, considering he appears to have no redeeming qualities, except of course for his giant Yale Law ring.  Credits roll as we can assume that girlfriend number 2′s future isn’t much better than number 1.

Yale, bitch!

Yale, bitch!

Detective Goren is on the scene and examines the dead girl in the tub.  He immediately notices scented bath oil.  They quickly figure out where she worked, a club where she was basically a non-sexual prostitute, which is of course, my favorite kind of prostitute.  Nothing like paying for not-sex.

Back at the office, Goren and Eames get news that a dead, strangled girl has washed up on Rockaway beach, we might have a serial killer on our hands!  She’s been dead at least a couple of days according to the cops on the scene, on the stinky beach, but Goren’s key sense of smell tells him there’s a scent of lavender coming off her body and she was drowned and strangled not on this beach but in…a BATHTUB!  Using his otherworldy smelling sense, Goren links this murder to the dead girl in the tub because sure, why not.  Someone out there clearly likes to strangle women, but only after making sure they smell nice.

Smells like...MURDER!

Smells like…MURDER!

Back in Henry’s world, his goddamn bitch wife is all up in his ass while he’s trying to get rid of evidence.  Can’t a guy just burn some evidence in peace?!

Over at the lab, Goren and Eames learn more about dead girl #2, and try to decide if they’ve got a serial killer on the loose.  Unfortunately, they do not use this time to give him a fun name, like the Lavender Lunatic or the Bathtub Bandit.  Come on Goren, use a little creativity.

And wouldn’t you know, while they have this conversation word comes in about a THIRD dead girl.  The Lavender Lunatic has been busy.

Goren is eventually led to Henry’s office because all three dead women had recently suffered injuries and Henry works at the injury law firm that was representing their lawsuits.

I'd prefer to be called MISTER Lavender Lunatic.

I’d prefer to be called MISTER Lavender Lunatic.

Henry tries to push the blame onto his ex-associate who recently quit and also knew the victims.  Goren does what he does best, snooping around and noticing that Henry might have a gambling problem, among other character flaws, that is beyond the bad acting.

Later on that evening, Henry is meeting up with yet ANOTHER girlfriend!  Between four girlfriends, a wife, two kids, a cocaine and gambling addiction, and Jazzercise three times a week, I don’t know how he’s able to get anything done!  I would not like to be the secretary who has to organize this man’s life.  In his latest girlfriend, we get our very first BAD ACCENT of the show.  I suppose she’s supposed to be Russian or something as she starts telling him about her ‘LEETLE BEEKEENEE’ she wants to wear for him at the beach.

Goren and Eames meet with the ex-associate, who basically blows the lid off Henry’s coke and gambling addiction, not to mention that he’s also been stealing money from clients – the same ones that are now all smelling lovely but also dead.  They travel to Henry’s house to speak with his clueless wife where they inform her they have a warrant for Henry’s arrest for murder as well as a search warrant for the house.

Now that you mention it, our lavender budget HAS gotten out of control.

Now that you mention it, our lavender budget HAS gotten out of control.

Goren explains to Mrs. Clueless what her husband has been up to – stealing money from clients and drowning them in bathtubs.  After recalling the used condom on her sparkling kitchen floor, Mrs. Clueless demands they stop this harassment and she’s calling her lawyer.

They head on over to Henry’s bookie, basically a walking stereotype, because apparently that’s something that still exists.  Hey, Henry, have you HEARD of the internet?  Henry’s been in contact, after all he’s a gambling addict, and he’s in Connecticut with some Russian floozy, according to the bookie.  Goren and Eames head back to the office and wouldn’t you know, a dead strangled Russian girl has turned up in Connecticut.  The Soapy Slaughterer strikes again!  But good news – there’s at least one more girlfriend still alive!

Just come on over to my house, I needed to kill you at least three days ago...I mean...NOT kill you...I've said too much.

Just come on over to my house, I needed to kill you at least three days ago…I mean…NOT kill you…I’ve said too much.

In order to reel him in, Goren has the bookie leave Henry a message demanding his money, except of course when “Henry” shows up to pay, Mrs. Clueless shows up in his place.  God I really hate this woman.

They interrogate the Clueless Wonder.   Goren had her least favorite spot on the kitchen floor tested and they found traces of sperm and spermacide.  Sounds like your perfect husband has been up to no good.  By the way, you’d think she’d have cleaned up the floor by now but between her pill addiction and paying off Henry’s gambling debts I suppose she didn’t have the time.

And so they travel over to the hospital where the last girlfriend is still alive and not yet strangled in a bathtub of lavender, except of course she’s on the phone with Henry now and he’s promised her a warm bath at home!  I wish I was making this up.

Candles - check. Wine - check. Murdering gloves - check. Where did I leave that goddamn lavender?

Candles – check. Wine – check. Murdering gloves – check. Where did I leave that goddamn lavender?

The Aromatic Assassin prepares a bath at his girlfriend’s home but is greeted by Goren and Eames and is placed under arrest.  Back at the station, the Assistant DA Carver DEMANDS MORE EVIDENCE (this is also a running theme on CI).  Right now they’ve only got him for gambling and possession of scented candles – that’s only enough to put him away for a few weeks.  Goren suggests he needs to be caught in the act, I smell trickery!

And this trickery involves Eames innocently flirting with Henry while he waits behind bars since his downfall is cute, petite women.  Henry turns into a real talker and now it’s so easy to see why he’s got so many girlfriends.  “I listen to women.  I’ve got a lot to give.  I’m going to walk out of here and when it’s appropriate, I’d like to call you.”  Um, you do know you’re under arrest for murdering four women right?  But sure, I hear Guy Fieri’s new place in Times Square is good, call me!

Unfortunately for the Cleansing Criminal, his wife has been watching him try to pick up on Eames the entire time through the one way glass and now sees just who her husband really is.  Now that the veil has been lifted, she tells Goren that she had caught him getting rid of probably a dead girl’s clothes a few weeks ago.  Eames leaves the interrogation room, saying “I need to go WASH OFF THE SLIME.”  Zing.

Considering this guy is a lawyer, from YALE, you’d think he’d be smart enough at this point to demand an attorney, but instead he requests a catalog to Bath and Body Works.

The interrogation is predictably hilarious.  Goren says he believes Henry is into small women because he’s a “small man,” implying of course that Henry’s got a tiny penis, going as far as comparing their shoe sizes because as we all know, small shoes = tiny dick.  I wear a size 14 by the way.

I got these on Zappos.

I got these on Zappos.

This is really all just Goren trickery into getting Henry to confess, which he does, yelling his wife behind the glass “Why do you think I did this you bitch?!  I DID THIS FOR YOU!”  Nobody likes being accused of having a baby penis.  Henry SMASHES the one way glass into pieces (which if this was actually possible would probably hurt like a bitch and take a LOT of scented soap to clean) and the episode ends.

BEST LINES OF THE EPISODE:

On describing the second dead girl, the coroner lets Goren and Eames know that, “She’s got a stomach like a trampoline and a tush you could crack walnuts with.”  Yum!

Eames upon learning that Henry’s wife is supporting his gambling and cocaine habit: “Looks like his train’s about to run out of gravy!”

AMAZING WITNESS ACCOUNT:

None really this episode, just good old fashioned detective work.

TERRIBLE ACCENT WINNER:

Clearly the Russian girlfriend.  Henry, you vouldn’t drown me in a bathtub, vould you?

LESSONS TO BE LEARNED:

If you’re going to murder your four girlfriends, at least have the sense to not strangle them all in lavender smelling bathtubs – you’ve gotta mix that shit up.

Buy bigger shoes.

 

 

 

Copy and Cigarettes 2.0

Okay, it’s 2013 and I’ve resolved to start blogging again.  Over the years I’ve started losing my interest in writing and that’s really started to bother me.  I don’t know how long I’ll keep this up, what theme this may or may not have or where this may or may not go.

I do know that I watched an episode of Law and Order Criminal Intent last night for the first time in years.  And right when Detective Eames, played by the incomparable Kathryn Erbe, uttered one of the dumbest lines I can remember hearing on television ever, I remembered how much I used to love this show and how badly I should be writing about it and how badly I should be writing in general.

I’m a lot busier these days than I used to be (okay, that part isn’t particularly true) so I don’t know how often, how much, or what I’m going to write about.  I also know that I reinstalled the latest version of WordPress and thank Jesus Christ Almighty I had the foresight to go back and save the old blog ahead of time thinking it was going to be erased forever (it was).

So consider yourself warned, all two people who might have my blog set up on their Google Reader.  I’m back.  For now.