February 14, 2008
Peyton Manning's hilarious United Way spoof
Don't know why football is such a ripe area for satire, as I blogged on twice recently -- Cute football videos and Ask Michael Wilbon? Not! -- but here's another classic from Saturday Night Live:
I think this video captures why Peyton Manning is all over the airways and Tom Brady is not ... Manning has a great Q (likeability) rating, Brady for all his ostensible humility and team-first attitude seems to be a guy all about supermodel girlfriends and getting off stage as quickly as possible after a game.
I missed until now that The Onion has been having a field day with anti-Patriots sentiment:
Patriots Proud Of Defeating Whoever That Last Team Was
FOXBOROUGH, MA—Patriots quarterback Tom Brady diplomatically emphasized that defeating whoever it was they had just played gave him and his teammates a great sense of accomplishment during his post-game press conference Sunday. "It's always very satisfying to get out there and get a win against…against those guys," Brady said, adding that it was a mistake to take those other guys for granted as they were capable of making a few plays. "They definitely had some sort of game plan, and they were running around fairly fast out there. We overcame a lot to triumph over, uh, you know, them." According to Brady, the Patriots still need to correct a number of mistakes during the week's practices, execute better, and prepare for that one team they have to defeat next.
And here's a classic:
Patriots' Season Perfect For Rest Of Nation
FOXBOROUGH, MA—As the once-invincible, still-insufferable Patriots attempt to come to grips with their 17-14 Super Bowl loss to the Giants, the death of their dream to go undefeated, and the possible end of their dynasty, almost every other person in America is reveling in what they consider the perfect ending to New England's season."I just couldn't imagine a better ending to the Patriots odyssey," said Simon Williams, a Kansas City-area football fan who usually watches the college game but found himself caught up in the Patriots' sheer loathsomeness during the season. "The utter lack of humility they displayed alongside an equal lack of any joy in the game, that toad of a coach, and that cologne-ad quarterback… If they have to act that badly while playing that well, you really want to see them fail in the biggest way possible. Thank God almighty, that's what we got."
- posted by jbelliveau at 8:48 AM in Parodies
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January 10, 2008
Ask Michael Wilbon? Not!
I suspect Washington Post sports columnist Michael Wilbon, self-anointed as omniscient and "never surprised," got banned from writing columns about the Redskins for a while after he posted the following about Sean Taylor in a chat as the Redskins safety was dying:I've known guys like Taylor all my life, grew up with some. They still have shades of gray and shouldn't be painted in black and white ... I know how I feel about Taylor, and this latest news isn't surprising in the least, not to me. Whether this incident is or isn't random, Taylor grew up in a violent world, embraced it, claimed it, loved to run in it and refused to divorce himself from it. He ain't the first and won't be the last. We have no idea what happened, or if what we know now will be revised later. It's sad, yes, but hardly surprising.Though what Wilbon said was true of Taylor until age 22 -- no one in the organization seemed to find him especially likeable until his daughter was born, and he only grew up the last two years of his life -- it goes too far to say he "embraced" and "claimed" a violent world anymore by the time he was 24.
While the blogosophere has hammered Wilbon for the particulars of this remark -- both his timing and his facts were w-a-a-a-ay off -- no one takes him to the woodshed better than the sports parodists at Kissing Suzy Kolber, in this column, Ask Michael Wilbon!
Bob T., Bethesda: Hi Mike, I’m a big fan. I just wanted to get your most recent thoughts on Sean Taylor’s death. Has your perspective changed at all in recent days?Read it all here. Am I jealous that I didn't write this myself? Yes. Am I surprised that a blog with the inspired name of Kissing Suzy Kolber has this caliber of parody? No.
Michael Wilbon: What a stupid question. I’m a journalist, okay? I stand by what I wrote. Is his death sad? Yes. Did it surprise me? Not in the least. Not any aspect of it at all. Not even the time it occurred, which was early morning. Now I knew Sean a little bit. Not a lot. Just a little bit. And I can tell you, that bad elements WERE a part of his life at some point. Maybe not anymore. But they were there. So don’t bring that junk about me having to change my perspective. Okay?
An inebriated Joe Namath leans in to try to kiss a ducking Suzy Kolber, announcing, "I want to kiss you. I couldn't care less about the team struggling." See the full YouTube video here, including the announcers' inane reaction, "Joe's just a happy guy!" ... "Isn't he!"
This reminds of this laugh-out-loud sports parody: Washington Redskins' long snapper Ethan Albright's profane purported rebuttal to John Madden at being rated the lowest of all the players on Madden '07: Ethan Albright Strikes Back. I've reproduced it with a few strategic earmuffs emoticons:
Albright even responded to the letter in this Post interview:
Even with the rating he probably would have remained anonymous were it not for a profanity-filled letter to NBC Sports analyst John Madden, who helped EA Sports develop the game. The letter carried Albright's name on the bottom with the signature line "Rot in Hell" that made its way around the Internet. He did not write the letter and admits that when he first saw it, "I laughed my butt off."Update Jan. 26, 2008: Ethan Albright has been added to the Pro Bowl, reports Redskins Insiders' Jason La Canfora, prompting a witty comment from micmoliver, "Wonder if this will increase his rating on Madden?"
Finally, as embarrassingly in the tank for Joe Gibbs as was my recent blog entry -- it might as well have been titled "How Joe Gibbs Saved My Marriage" -- apparently I am restrained compared to some fans of the coach, who believe Gibbs is both Jesus and want polygamy legalized so they can marry him. Blogger Patty Nixx writes:
I have to say that I have matured and blossomed into quite a gal. The first time Joe Gibbs retired, I climbed under a desk and wept like a turtle. This time, my phone rang at 6am and I figured either someone was dead or Joe Gibbs had retired so I approached the phone like a cougar hunting a bunny, took the news like an adult, and reached for some Xanax...like an adult. Joe has earned the right to do whatever he wants. He is Jesus in burgandy and gold. Ergo, if he wants to leave to spend time with his family, that's ok.......but if I see him out and about, he had better be covered with grandkids and cousins and doing family stuff or my new found maturity may decrease.She noted earlier during the Redskins' winning streak:
If anyone trash talks the above man, Joe Gibbs, they'll have to go through me. This man is a saint and after the way he's held the team together through Sean Taylor's murder, injuries, and all the heart breaking losses this year, win, lose, or draw, he is the man. If polygamy were legal in the state of Virginia, I would get down on my knee and offer both him and his lovely wife my hand in marriage. I think I speak for many in Redskin Nation when I say, "I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Joe". I actually declared my football season over about a month ago out of frustration. Now, Joe's leadership and Sean's guidance from above has had me drunkingly prancing about on Sundays again the last few weeks. At this point, when I look at Joe Gibbs, I see him wearing a robe and sandals with a beard and long hair turning water into wine. In fact, next time I see him, I shall simply hand him a jug of water, tell him I'm planning a cocktail party but I'm broke, so please do your thing. Help out a sister!Patty goes on to note, "I think every traffic circle in D.C. should have a bronze statue of him and I'd kiss the feet of the statue at every opportunity."
Wilbon's Post columnist buddy Mike Wise about nails all our hyperbole in this column when he notes that Gibbs was welcomed on his return four years with a rapture and "fanfare befitting George Patton and, well, Gandhi."
I finally was granted minutes ago a one-on-one interview with noted Redskins fan and Washington mood bellweather Mary G. Belliveau, my mother, who gives permission to quote her in my blog.
In this interview, she channels her late brother Robert F. Williams Jr., a long-time basketball coach in suburban Boston, in her understanding of sports:
"Coach Joe Gibbs, oh my goodness, we will miss him. Well I can understand why he retired, he gave 1,000 percent for four years, and I don't know if he could see the light at the end of the tunnel with Collins or not. He had a few moments of the spotlight and a few moments of hope, and an awful lot of of downers. What I remember about all the four years is the dropped footballs, I'm sorry to say, as a spectator. I don't know what he could do about it.
"There were some valiant efforts, some fellows who never stopped trying, there are some you wonder what they're doing there.
"He's such a wonderful person to have around anyway, he and Danny were matched, like the one before, Jack Kent Cooke, they were kind of matched."
Well that about says it. Here is a nice Washington Post graphic of bizarre problems and miscues that dogged the Gibbs II era -- Mom is on the money in her impression.
Now we'll just sit back and see if the 'Skins hire Bill Cowher, promote Gregg Williams, or go with Plan C. Maybe get some big receivers who can hang on to the ball along with a new coach.
December 27, 2007
The 1977 J.C. Penney catalog
This one is making the rounds of the Internet -- excerpts from a rediscovered copy of the 1977 J.C. Penney's catalog, at this link: Strap in, shut up and hold on: We're going back.
Now the question is whether I dare show myself in the outfit I wore to the Rolling Stones infamous Bicentennial Concert in 1976 at RFK Stadium in D.C.: blue halter top, red white and blue bell bottoms with stars everywhere, wide white belt, clunky watch, miles of midriff on show. Someone will have to dare me! It's a little more Late Woodstock than true 1970s to be honest.
- posted by jbelliveau at 11:09 PM in Parodies
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December 16, 2007
Procrastinating work-at-home writers, pet-owners division
I recall an awesome Dave Barry column where he betrayed the secrets of the writer at work facing deadline, namely that it would suddenly become imperative to remove his socks and shoes, grab a guitar pick and clean out all his toe cheese.Dog: I am starving.
Me: Actually, no. You aren't starving. You get two very good meals a day. And treats. And Best Beloved fed you extra food while I was gone.
Dog: STARVING.
Me: I saw you get fed not four hours ago! You are not starving.
Dog: Pity me, a sad and tragic creature, for I can barely walk, I am so starving. WOE.
Me: I am now ignoring you.
Dog: STARVING.
Dog: Did you hear me? I am starving.
Dog: Are you seriously ignoring me? Fine.
[There is a pause, during which the dog exits the room in a pointed manner.]
- posted by jbelliveau at 1:11 PM in Parodies
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May 2, 2006
The Girlspeak to English Dictionary
If you are in the mood for a laugh today (my birthday!) take a look at the Girlspeak to English Dictionary.
My favorites:
She says English
--------- -------
We need I want
It's your decision The correct decision should
be obvious by now
We need to talk I need to complain
I'm not upset Of course I'm upset, you
moron.
You're...so manly You need a shave and you
sweat a lot.
You're certainly attentive tonight. Is sex all you ever think
about?
I'm not emotional! And I'm not I have PMS.
overreacting!
Be romantic, turn out the lights. I have flabby thighs.
Is my butt fat? Tell me I'm beautiful.
You have to learn to communicate. Just agree with me.
Do you like this recipe? It's easy to fix, so you'd
better get get used to it.
I'm not yelling! Yes I am yelling because I
think this is important.
In answer to the question "What's wrong?"
The same old thing. Nothing.
Nothing. Everything.
Everything. My PMS is acting up.
I don't want to talk about it. Go away, I'm still building
up evidence against you.
Some cute relies from this discussion on Fark.com:
05-02 06:23:30 AM TappingTheVein
Men's dictionary:
1. I am hungry = I am hungry
2. I am sleepy = I am sleepy.
3. I am tired = I am tired.
4. Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
5. I love you = Let's have sex now.
6. I am bored = Do you want to have sex?
7. May I have this dance? = I'd like to have sex with you.
8. Can I call you sometime? = I'd like to have sex with you.
9. Do you want to go to a movie? = I'd like to have sex with you.
10. Can I take you out to dinner? = I'd like to have sex with you.
11. I don't think those shoes go with that outfit = I'm gay.
- posted by jbelliveau at 1:21 PM in Parodies
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March 27, 2006
Does humor stand up over time?
This little back-and-forth on National Review's The Corner got me to thinking:
DEAD HUMOR [John Derbyshire] I used to think Peter Sellers was the funniest man alive. The other day, however, I watchedA Shot in the Dark, the 1964 movie that established the Inspector Clouseau character. It really wasn't very funny at all.
We all know, of course, that humor is perishable, and that what made our parents -- or even our younger selves -- laugh can leave us stone faced. There are degrees of perishability, though, and the very best humor can stay funny for decades. I thought Sellers was in that league. Nope. His repertoire was narrower than I'd remembered -- really just two or three funny voices and a couple of facial expressions. It's sad... Though now I don't feel quite so bad at never having found Charlie Chaplin the least bit funny.
RE: DEAD HUMOR [Warren Bell]
I often wonder about that, Derb. I think I've written here before about the disaster that is viewingBlazing Saddles at age 42, after having wallowed in its glory at age 13. I think our memories tend to put a rosy glow around things we laugh at, and then in revisiting, the reality destroys the glow. ... So how much is the fault of memory, and how much is our own evolution in life? Is Sellers less funny, Derb, or are you?
RE: DEAD HUMOR [John Derbyshire]
Warren: Something of both, I'm sure. We get more critical as we mature, and harder to please.
Gentlemen, agreed. I recently noted with excitement a reunion show of Carol Burnett and her crew. Watching, I was shocked at how mean and sad the Family sketches seemed and how the sketches with Tim Conway as a bumbling handyman went on forever without point.
Coincidentally, we have just finished watching 
the Monty Python "Personal Best" series on PBS. Lamont and I had looked forward to seeing these, and found that they in some, or many, places, did not live up to memory.
At their worst, Python was wordy (to say the least). I remember laughing away at Python as a teen-ager, but somehow today you end up more often thinking, "Clever concept," but not actually laughing. The group had no idea when to end a sketch, and relied excessively on skits that had Graham Chapman as a military commander and/or John Cleese as a TV presenter.
Comedy moves on, and Dave Chappelle now seems to be the gold standard. His skits cover a wider range than the Python's, are far better produced (but of course, it's nearly 40 years later), and make more effort to be daring and surprising.
It was also interesting to see whose material, of the individual Pythons, held up better. It was not explained on the series the criteria for inclusion of various skits. I.e., are the pieces on John Cleese's Personal Best his favorites? Or skits that he wrote? Because many of the bits were clearly not selected because the individual Python actually starred in a major way on them.
That said, I would rank the hour-long specials as follows. They varied wildly in both humor quotient and how the individual Python approached writing the new material that bridged the sketches:
- Terry Jones. What a surprise! The overlooked Welshman had the most original segues between material. And cheers and applause for his Spanish Inquisition ("Fetch ... the COMFY CHAIR!"), one of my favorites. Jones included a hilarious military courtroom scene, the Court Martial of Sapper Walters, that I absolutely don't remember from the TV series shown in the States. Either my memory is bad or a lot of the British material never made it here, especially this one, which is deliciously, subtly raunchy (Presiding General: "How did he oblige them?" Fawcett: (more and more irritated) "He ... um ... used to make them happy in little ways, sir.") Also features the working-class playwright sketch and the world-famous "RAF Banter" -- "What ho, Squiffy?" -- one of the best send-ups of jargon ever.
- John Cleese. Morbidly fascinating to see him a bit age-spotted at home in Santa Barbara, Calif., with wicked intros to his sketches, which included the Exploding Blue Danube, which Lamont laughed at, and I found dated. Features the FABULOUS "Upper Class Twit of the Year." And I enjoyed the old ladies re-enacting Pearl Harbor.
- Eric Idle and Michael Palin. A tie here. I love Palin, the "nice Python" and well known as a sweetheart of a man, and was disappointed a little with the slow pacing of his intros at Teddington Lock, where the fish-slap dance was born. Though we both roared at his "Blackmail Show," which Lamont remembered -- wonderful to see Palin get very wicked! And the Cheese Shop holds up well, an accurate commentary on the Britain I knew in the early 1980s. * Idle seemed just a bit crazy today. But he's found good picks with the Bruces (side splitting to anyone who has been to Australia) and The Lumberjack Song.
* I once visited a pub with my cycling club at lunch and was told the menu was "shepherd's pie and bread and cheese, but we're out of shepherd's pie."
- Graham Chapman. The bits include what may be my favorite skit, ever, Oscar Wilde:
Whistler: "Your Majesty is like a stream of bat's piss."
The Prince of Wales: "What? Who said that?"
Whistler: "It was Shaw."
The Prince of Wales: "Well, Shaw, what did you mean by that?"
Shaw (in exaggerated Irish brogue): "It means Your Majesty is like a shaft of gold, when all around is darkness."
All: "Very good, Shaw, very good!"
Here were the Pythons being intellectual, wordy yet still hilarious, and not being arch and Oxbridge and trying too hard, "too clever by half."
The interviews with other Pythons lent the show real zip. Chapman is of course an ex-Python, in the same sense as a parrot can be an ex-parrot, nudge nudge wink wink, so a lot of his buddies reminisced to put this shown together. The other shows would have benefited I think from just a little bit of commentary by others.
- Terry Gilliam. His animated sketches -- well, we couldn't finish this one, 20 minutes of absurd Yellow Submarine type art and moving hands and feet were plenty.
Indeed, humor is perishable. Sometimes it's best to hold it in memory. Though I do think the Python Personal Best series would have held up superbly had they been better edited, with more commentary and judicious trimming of the sketches to leave only the stuff that still holds up as brilliant today.
That sort of polish helped Richard Pryor's 
I Ain't Dead Yet DVD, for one example, to be quite good.
Though if Python wants to make the point that they are zany and amateurish in a veddy old tradition of the British amateur, that's fine, too.
UPDATE (April 4, 2006): Thanks for all the calls and remarks from people who enjoyed this blog entry! I have heard from my friend Harry Davey, who recently watched some old Mary Tyler Moore shows. What did he think? "They weren't funny." That's it in a nutshell.
My sister Carol noted that she has been buying DVDs of old TV shows, including Dick Van Dyke, and watching them with disappointment.
My husband Lamont, asked to explain what he thinks is going on, gave two explanations. "Humor is perishable, in some cases. And some shows never were funny -- that's why I don't much care for comedy."
I suppose the moral is, try to rent, borrow or Netflix old TV shows that you once loved, rather than buy.
- posted by jbelliveau at 8:59 AM in Parodies
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March 5, 2005
My favorite Amazon.com review, ever
I discovered this some years ago and still find it a treasure and a wonder of sardonic writing -- it's a review on Amazon.com of Eve Ensler's 
The Vagina Monologues.
Somehow I recalled this today and thought I would "share."
Kudos to the anonymous author who truly knows how to damn with faint praise!
***
After fainting a few times, I thoroughly was won over, October 25, 1998
Reviewer: A reader
My first reaction to this book which I selected at my local library after a messy day on the job pouring concrete was that I wanted to write a sequel and title it "the cock chronicles".
As I sat alone though in my dirty-interiored pick-up truck resting my sore body I was touched in many ways by the books sensitivity not just to womans feelings, but to humanities.
I do confess to being an occassional watcher of pornography because my attention span is sometimes thus that anything that appears before me requires my immediate involvement.
But as I am now advancing in my job, I have turned to watching home improvement videos rather than porn. It has the same hands on appeal and as I age I find it will serve me more in the future.
Now as I used to want to be a professional actor and now have transferred this wanabeism to banging nails in residential contruction, I occasionally yearn to hear my golden voice.
Enough beating around the bush: my cynicism faded away as I read story after story by women about there experiences. Certainly, I was aroused at points. I yearned for a better understanding of woman and how I could learn to be more sensitive as a man.
For me, this book is more worthwhile than joining some men's organization, be it religious or civic, that poses the idea that men getting together is for the purpose of serving woman. I love art. I love peoples honest feelings. I do like to be challenged. I admit that often I am quite obsessed sexually.
I do still cat call woman but it is because I believe that I can serve them. It is in my nature. Finally, a book comes out that puts me in my place. That is what everyman really wants: to be put in his place by a woman.
As this year winds down I can honestly say that the Vagina book was the first book that I read all year. It has wet my taste for reading again that has been dormant. I am now reading all sorts of books.
I think it is an excellent book to give as a gift. To a man or a woman, this book is appropriate. Even if the person laughs at first, that is a fine response. As the holidays approach I will tell all my colleagues on the job to get this book for their woman, girlfriend, girl you are trying to hit on, wife, sister, sister-in-law. I am now set to pen my lifetime story: the Cock Chronicles.
- posted by jbelliveau at 3:03 PM in Parodies
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January 19, 2005
Area Woman Eats Entire Box of Cookies
This is a parody of the sort you see in The Onion, except that it all actually happened, pretty much as given. I was reminded of this at my lunch today at Legal Seafoods in Baltimore with friend Barbara Saffir, when we talked about all the items (potato chips, ice cream, sugary snacks) we can never keep in our homes because we would eat them nonstop.
Area Woman Eats Entire Box of Cookies
FELLS POINT -- Local writer Jeannette Belliveau was delighted to discover Wednesday morning that someone had left a box of Entemann's Soft-Baked Chocolate Chip Cookies on her breakfast bar.
"I can tell already, this is going to be great day," Belliveau smiled.
"These must be for everyone to share," she thought. Her housemates often left Twix bars, office party leftovers and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts in the communal area adjacent to the pet food containers.
At 10:45 a.m. she made her first visit to the cookie box, determinedly ripping open the perforated lines on its side, and took about nine of the scrumptious concoctions to help her focus while working.
Later she returned to the remaining three-quarters of the cookies. "These are probably 'stales' on sale at Sam's Club," Belliveau concluded. "It would be best to go through them. Then we can all check them off as not wasted due to excessive exposure to the air. And move on to the next consumables in order of expiration date."
By 7 p.m. the cookies were finished. They had darn good flavor for stales, Belliveau thought. She never bought Entemann's for herself, which enhanced the pleasure of rediscovering the delights of their chocolate chips on the palate. The free box seemed to have fallen from heaven like a granted wish.
The contented writer took great pride in having split up the cookies' consumption into four separate trips to the kitchen, showing unbelievable willpower for a Belliveau. Everyone had to know that a less self-controlled member of the clan would naturally plunge face first into a box of Entemann's and scarf it like a hyena at a fresh carcass.
She had definitely done the right thing, Belliveau concluded, given that her brother Jim had once said that chocolate was good to control obsessive-compulsive disorders. Her writing had proceeded most satisfactorily all day. This was good. Very very very good. Her mood became buoyant. Briefly she wondered about the anonymous benefactor but did not dwell excessively on the matter.
Later that evening, her housemate arrived in her office. "Do you know what happened to my boxes of cookies and doughnuts?" she demanded.
"Um, well ... the doughnuts are right here," she said gesturing beside her computer. In other example of self-discipline, she had only eaten four of the 12 cinnamon, confectioner's sugar and plain doughnuts, and those nicely spaced out. But she wondered if absconding with a whole box from the communal area looked bad.
Then, bewildered that the fate of the cookies wasn't readily apparent, she said, "I ate them."
"Those were for a party for Saturday night," Laura said.
"And you left them out in plain view on a Wednesday?" Belliveau responded, trying not to roll her eyes. "You know you can't do that to anyone with a disadvantaged Catholic childhood limited to one cinnamon twist a week after Sunday Mass."
An hour later, Belliveau related her day's odyssey from office to kitchen and back to her husband, Lamont, confident he would chuckle at to the humorous parallels between their impulsive pets, who would eat anything within reach, and herself.
After a lengthy pause, Lamont said, "What were you thinking?"
Belliveau shared her decision-making processes, smug about the clarity of her logic. Inner satisfaction suffused her as she analyzed and articulated each step with lawyerly precision.
Lamont raised his eyebrows in silence.
"OK, I wasn't thinking. I was eating," she said, feeling misunderstood, but confident her sisters would validate her actions.
- posted by jbelliveau at 6:53 PM in Parodies
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March 2, 2004
Mail Order Husbands
This site cropped up while researching my second book, Romance on the Road. Read it and hoot!
- posted by jbelliveau at 5:40 PM in Parodies
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