February 2009

Howdy folks and welcome to the third and final February edition of The Modern Day Critic. If you’re new here, it should take you about three seconds to figure out how it works. (Any longer than that and you are very, very slow, but thanks for dropping by anyway.) And if you’re a regular, thanks for coming back.

At any rate, spread the word and be sure to sign up for The Modern Day Critic mailing list at moderndaycritic@yahoo.com.

On with the show:

From stuffing to pancakes to trail mix, these tiny, wrinkled nuggets complement most foods with a touch of natural sweet flavor. And for a while I denied liking them – probably because they’re little more than dead grapes.

The terrible “T” word during the past election, taxes are an essential part of your life (unless you don’t like schools, roads and fire departments). The MDC tax plan would ensure the country’s coffers are full for years: If you vote for any ticket with Sarah Palin on it, you get slapped with $1,000 asshole tax.

Since layoffs are an expected part of today’s economy, they can be used to explain any departure from work – no questions asked. So if you don’t mind losing your job and you want to come to work naked (Hey, I’m not here to judge), now’s your chance. “I was laid off,” is the only excuse your next employer needs to hear.

Thanks to Patty Y. for suggesting the topic.

The Oscars
When giving out the coveted award, presenters used to say, “And the winner is …”, but now it’s “And the Oscar goes to …” Why? The Academy wanted to avoid hurt feelings by labeling some winners and others not. It seems that the Hollywood’s egos are so fragile that millions of dollars and legions of fans aren’t enough. And that “it’s just an honor being nominated” is a load of crap.

The Modern Day Critic lives in the Northeast where record breaking snowfall has meant hours of backbreaking shoveling. And although it’s almost to the point where I’d rather shovel shit than snow, I am glad that shit doesn’t typically fall form the sky.

Well, that’s it for now. You can have more in March.

As I remain woefully unemployed and suckling at the government teat, I’ve decided to try to update the Critic three times a month. That means upwards of 36 issues per year of inane bullshit, but as long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing (Actually, I’d write anyway, but that’s beside the point).

Send an email to moderndaycritic@yahoo.com with “Me First” in the subject to be added to The Modern Day Critic Mailing list. Thanks to those who’ve already signed up.

And now, on with the show:

Michael Phelps
After losing his Kellogs endorsement for the bong hit heard around the world, Phelps now owns the most expensive dime bag in history. Punishing him for smoking herb is like punishing him for being 24. Remember what the bible says, “Let he who is without a binger cast the first stone.”

Best of Albums
By purchasing a “Best of” compilation, you’re missing the original album’s hidden gems and allowing others to determine the songs you should be listening to. Don’t hand this important decision to the bland, radio-friendly masses. Think (or in this case, listen) for yourself. Buy the albums those “hits” came from. Chances are, you won’t regret it.

Note to radio stations that play “lost” classics: If a tune’s on a Best of Album, it’s not lost.

Euphemisms for Gluteus Maximus
Ass, arse, rump, buttocks, coo, cheeks, toilet, butt, bumper, pooper, dumper, derriere, dump truck, bottom, backdoor, posterior, tush, tuckus, booty, badunkadunk, can, rear, rear end, buns, junk in the trunk, fart bag, turd cutter

Faux Hawks
Seen all over, the faux hawk is destined to be ridiculed as the mullet of the early 21st century. You know, the kinda thing people point out in old photos and laugh at. If you want people to think you’re badass, get a real mohawk. Otherwise, you’re just a douche bag with too much crap in his hair.

Shameless Self Promotion
If anyone out there has need of a writer (ads, flyers, direct mail, etc.), I’m wiling to whore myself out at a reduced rate. And as a bonus, I’ll work remotely so you never have to see my ugly mug. Work samples are available at creativehotlist.com/menos. Email matthew_enos@yahoo.com for more info.

Well that’s about all the blather I could muster for this week. Drop me a line with any questions, comments or suggestions. Until next time …

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The Angry Whopper
Unless you live under a rock, you’ve seen the Burger King Angry Whopper ad. (An executioner-type farmer with hemorrhoids and bad teeth berates a lone onion growing in a field of dirt.) I don’t mind marketers attributing human emotions to my food, as long as they don’t take it too far. I refuse to order my angry whopper with a side of melancholy fries.

Customer with Infant Parking
Springing up next to the handicapped spots in parking lots everywhere, “Customer with Infant” parking is proof we’re a society in decline. HAVING A BABY IS NOT A HANDICAP, so why should procreation entitle someone to better parking? And why stop at infants? Where’s the “Customer with Retarded Stepson” parking?

A Book I Meant to Write
A black man/orphan girl/dyslexic monkey overcomes Gandhi/the local bully/ herpes to win the big game/a piece of toast/the dance contest. The ironic twist is she/he/it is dead/bald/likes pie.
Title: A Junior High Primer

Trivial Pursuit
Although the game’s basically the same, what constitutes trivial had definitely changed. If the correct answer is “Ben Franklin,” you’re playing an earlier version. If it’s “Rachel Green,” you’re playing a later version. And if you routinely ruin game pieces by sticking pie slices in the wrong way, you’re not playing with me.

It’s a given that Ticketbastard marks up purchases by at least 27%, but it’s how they try to hide it that’s a travesty: service charges and handling fees. The ordering, printing, mailing of tickets are all done by computer. So where does the handling come in? I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire company was one guy sitting on a throne of gold bars.

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