I happened across a couple of FB posts that were both saying the same thing and were both equally full of shit:
So who are these memes for? Well, boomers obviously, since it's Facebook. But it's MAGA boomers who are frightened of anything new, like Taylor Swift or uh... Garth Brooks? Anything new is "woke" and needs to be rejected by them.
But this is such incredible horseshit because would a successful touring artist like Garth Brooks even agree to tour with Kid Rock? Would the biggest POP star in the fucking world need to go touring with Jason Aldean? Give me a fucking break.
Oh look, Kid Rock turned down a fictional $150 million because the other artist was too woke. Right. And Jason Aldean was offered half a billion to introduce angry shitty country to a broad audience of young girls. BITCH PLEASE.
Here's a clever entertaining idea to see you through the party season - mini prosciutto and wonton cups are easy to make and fill with your favourite dip.
1) Preheat oven to 180ºC. Spray mini muffin pans with olive oil spray to lightly grease. Line the base and side of each prepared pan with a wonton wrapper or a thin slice of prosciutto.
2) Bake for 6-8 minutes or until crisp and golden. Set aside in pans for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool.
3) Spoon homemade or bought dip among the canapé cups. Arrange the canapés on a serving platter and serve.
And speaking of dip, I have driven a limo for some country music artists in my career, and more than once I have had to steam-clean out chewing tobacco stains. Come on, people.
I went to high school in North Carolina with this good ol' boy named Ray Scott, who now has a successful country music singing career. Great guy.
Ray and I are friends on Facebook, and recently he posted a photo of him canoodling with the much-documented EADJ subject ROBIN MEADE! Here Robin is with Ray and his wife:
Isn't that cool? Except for the two fat bearded freaks photobombing over Ray's shoulders?
Here's a link to his hit single "Drinkin' Beer" on iTunes. It is much better than anything Robin Meade caterwauled out.
Just wanted to say hello and "long time no see." Ever since you "crossed over" to popular music and pretty much walked away from your country roots, my workload has been prett-y light, let me tell you.
Yep, your music definitely feels different now. There is no sign of the swooning, romantic sounds of good ol' back country roads from a steel guitar in your 2012 album "Red," which sold 1.2 million copies in its first week of release. And recently in your album "1989," you ditched ol' Don Gillespie's steel guitar again, this time for synth beats and what they call "electronic-a."
Don't get me wrong– I don't begrudge you any of your success. The fact that you've hung out with Victoria's Secret models, wrote an anthem for New York City and even started your own line of clothes are fantastic achievements, not just for a young woman your age, but for anyone.
But darlin, Don Gillespie's got to eat, too. Let me help you do a remix of "Shake It Off," but with some real down home, Nashville flavor! Listen to the steel guitar tracks I sent you for "Blank Space," "Style," and "Bad Blood." I know we could work something out so that "Welcome To New York" becomes a national anthem! Give Don a call!
You have no idea how sick of Ramen noodles old Don has gotten.
And now, that segment where we rag on strangers for wearing clothes that are different that what we would wear. Because we are such fashion plates.
Josie sports this winter's most dangerous ensemble- a bright vertical green outfit near Christmas trees for sale. Way to tempt the nearsighted, Josie!
Roderick's all-tan outfit tells the world, "Hey, I know beige should be used sparingly, but I embrace it from my shoulders to my crotch, and that's okay with me... hell, I think I look sexy... where are you going?"
Carissa puts on just enough clothes to not get arrested for showing her tits while walking by Pottery Barn Kids.
Sometimes Moms are so absorbed with looking out for the welfare of their children and all of their needs that they mistakenly wear their bra on the outside. At least Lupe does.
Badger boots. And a mountain lion's hide for a coat. This is perfect for wooing the bad guy in "Beauty And The Beast."
Money is filthy and full of germs, so Carl here wisely wears a rubber glove to keep his right hand clean. Why didn't he protect his left hand? Because that's the hand he wipes with, genius. Duh.
So even after whining and complaining for a while before Target would restock it, we ended up pussyfooting around a while before finally reviewing Robin Meade's country album "Brand New Day." Here now we finally tackle this bitch (the album, not Robin) and break down a review of the album, track-by-track style:
"Put My Heels On" is a peppy, uptempo country tune that starts the album off with the same energy that Robin does with her CNN morning show. And much like her morning show, there's little substance and a lot of commercial interruptions. Searing with fiddle and guitar, Robin rides this bucking bronco like a newsanchor who has no business not being a newsanchor. There's even the lyric "It's like NASCAR out there running off the highway." I shit you not, woman.
"A Nice Bunch Of Girls" begins "there was a time/ that I thought that I /was going crazy." She reveals later that she herself is that nice bunch of girls with all her different facets. "I'm a nice bunch of girls" because she's so complex! Three minutes of two seconds of pure self-empowerment. Then there's a series of celebratory "me, myself and I" interwoven with the chorus at the end. And armpit farts, courtesy of me.
The third track is a cover of the Richard Marx song "Right Here Waiting" with American Idol winner Bo Bice harmonizing. It's every bit as much of a Walmart abortion as it sounds like. This is proof that God hates you.
"Never Alone" is the fourth track and successfully transforms this entire CD into the "Joshua Tree" of country albums with its lyricism and emotional scope. I'm kidding. It blows my nuts just as much as the rest of it.
This album's fifth track, "Letting It Go" is more of Robin's nasal, atonal caterwauling, but this time with an awful lot of piano tinkling. If you ever took a dump in a Cracker Barrel and looked back, this is what it would sound like.
"Rain." It begins slowly and quietly, and Robin's vocals weaves itself in with emotional urgency. "When I pray/ I just pray that it rains" is the chorus' pithy refrain. "For every tear that I've felt roll down my face/ for every time that I've blamed someone for my mistakes/ I just close my eyes and turn my heart to the sky/ and let it all fall down." I think Robin wrote these lyrics when she was in the 7th grade and had a crush on her gym teacher. Thank God someone committed these words to music.
Robin's seventh attempt at a CMA is "In Valentine," the poignant story of a small town named Valentine in Nebraska. I couldn't tell the rest of this story, because the song gave me sharp gas pains, and Robin singing through her nose made me have to take an enormous dump, which turned out to be just loud, painful gas. What a rip.
Billy Dean lends his talents to this next track, "Morning Sunshine." And if you have ever caught yourself in a situation where you thought, Great God- the only thing that could save this situation would be some lending vocals from Billy Dean, you know you're fucked.
The next track is "Welcome Home (ft. Jim Brickman)." Now, I don't know if any of you have ever had Jim Brickman at your home, but let me tell you– he's a fucking dick. He takes a pee all over your toilet seat and sweats all over your good sheets; he rearranges all the furniture in your guest room and leaves it that way, and he eats most of your Rocky Road ice cream but leaves enough to not have to throw it away. I tell you, man, Jim Brickman fucking sucks.
"Because You Think I Can" is the musical rantings of a delusional newsanchor-turned-country singer who thanks the many supportive fans that she has who don't really think she can sing but support her because they actually want to bone her. True musical inspiration.
John Rich of the country act Big 'N Rich guest spots on this next track, "You Will." I really have nothing more to add here, except to comment that he really kicked ass in that last "Celebrity Apprentice."
And holy shit if Robin Meade didn't pull out all the stops for her countrified cover of Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry" with guests Bo Bice, Kix Brooks, Gary Burr, Sarah Buxton, And Victoria Shaw. It's like a "We Are The World" of who-the-fuck-are-these-people. USA For What The Hey. Overall grade: F
Buy her album at Target or here, you masochist, you.
I just wanted to notify you of a possible misuse of your corporate identity. The (awful) country music album "Brand New Day" by CNN newsanchor Robin Meade has used a typeface on her name on the cover, making her name appear similar to your corporate logo. You can see what I mean at this link: http://twitpic.com/7acflw/full You should contact your legal department.
Editor's Note: Special thanks to my designer friend Diego for pointing this out, thus earning him a special custom "Robin Meade" Mollusk Award (scroll to the bottom).
"Hello. I'm here." "Who the fuck are you?" "I'm here to play the main stage at 9pm." "Good one. I think you've got the wrong place, buddy." "No, seriously, I'm the main act." "You." "Yes, me. I'm on the bill right there." "No, sir. On the bill we have Kris Kristofferson, Merle Haggard, and George Jones playing a tribute to Waylon Jennings." "Yes, and me." "Sir, do you know where you are? You're at the Grand Ole Opry. Only country legends play here." "Yes, I do play music from my country, too. But I'm mainly a classical guitarist. You can hear a lot of Spanish influence in my last CD, 'Romantico.'" "Lissen, buddy. You're not playing shit anywhere here. Step aside. We're waiting for Willie Nelson to arrive." "Like I said– I'm here!"
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." -Arthur C. Clarke, "Profiles of The Future", 1961
Today we direct our enmity towards any cantilever-style or so-called "magic" wine holder.
Why? Well, it's hard to articulate exactly what's so fucking annoying about these things, but here's a general walk-through of the logic of any person who buys one:
1) Oh wow! Look at that wine bottle holder! It makes it look like the bottle is floating!
2) But how does it work? Magic?!
3) Oh, I see! The piece of wood forces the heavy bottle to act as a counter-balance, and the angle of the base of the wood ensures the stability of the cantilever! How surprising and utterly elegant!
4) I've got to decorate my condo with this wine holder! This will both show off how sophisticated I am and baffle my douchebag friends!
So people who buy these things aren't only idiots when it comes to basic physics, but they're also eager to show off the fancy bottle of wine they bought.
When it comes to level of taste, I think I'd have to categorize the "magic" wine bottle holder with Patrick Nagel prints, halogen lamps, and those posters that have a rose on some piano keys.
Spotted at an LAX Admirals Club while traveling with Barry:
Tommy Lasorda Fine Italian Wines
"...Tommy Lasorda is preserving his legacy by fulfilling dreams away from the crowded stadiums of Major League Baseball... his passion for America's game gives way to his passion for Italian wines."
Say what? How is that preserving your legacy– by slapping your name on something completely unrelated to what made you famous? That's like Hillary Duff Financial Services or Madeleine Albright-brand chewing tobacco. "Carrie Ann Inaba's passion for judging dancers on 'Dancing With The Stars' gives way to her passion for Mycorrhizal Technology in Agriculture...." Oh, he's Italian, so he can sell Italian wine? Okay.
You'll notice on the wine descriptions below, no mention of Tommy Lasorda or any connection to his Italian heritage and the Veneta Abruzzo region of Italy. You could have slapped Yogi Berra or Joe DiMaggio's name on the label. They're Italian, see?
Tommy Lasorda Wines: They're Lasorda Classy and Lasorda Relevant!
Boy, this was a stinker. Combine terrible acting with poor writing with real life gossip of LeAnn Rimes cheating on her husband with the male lead, and you've got a huge bowl of Suck Jambalaya. Or since this was set in Alaska, Suck Herring.
What I Thought The Movie Was About Based On the Poster: Eddie Cibrian plays a pilot who crashes near LeAnn Rimes' cabin. They're snowed in, so they pull the penis-in-the-vagina trick a few times. Bank shot!
What The Movie Was Really About: Eddie Cibrian plays the new chief of police in the small Alaskan town of Lunacy. LeAnn Rimes is a headstrong but skilled pilot who needs his help solving the mystery of her father's murder. But since it's a small town, everyone is a suspect! Strangely, nobody blames the minority.
What I Wish The Movie Was Really About: LeAnn Rimes possesses the superhuman ability to turn everything to ice just by singing some clichéd country songs. Eddie Cibrian shows up to seduce her, but she turns him to ice, smashing him into a thousand crystalline shards. Her vocal chords freeze so that she cannot sing any longer, and a pizza delivery guy knocks on my door with 4 free pepperoni pizzas.
Nora Roberts Excellence: Once again, the female lead is the career-driven aggressor, with the male as an apron-wearing, emotionally-dependent wuss-wuss. Nora Roberts doesn't seem to understand that making female leads strong doesn't mean she has to rip the balls off of her mate. I feel sorry for Mister Roberts, sadly running that Swiffer Duster all over Nora's bric-a-brac.
And is a clip that shows off both LeAnn Rimes' acting chops and Nora Roberts' natural way with dialogue:
----------Celebrity Damage Index----------
Eddie Cibrian: Fart. 0 pts.
LeAnn Rimes: -30 pts. Hoping to parlay her spotlight as a singer into some sort of acting career, she signed up for a Lifetime Original Movie and ended up creating a marital scandal instead. Walmart parking lots are now filled with burning piles of her CDs.
Rosanna Arquette: -60 pts. From her amazing roles in "Pulp Fiction" and "Desperately Seeking Susan" to being reduced to THIS:
Yes, you heard that line of dialogue right: "Somebody hacked an ice axe into his chest and left him there to die."
The bus is leaving in five– no four minutes! There's no time to waste!
Hurry, Lindsay Lohan and Sam Ronson, there's a seat for both of you in the back! Kim Kardashian, I know it's awkward for you to sit so close to Ray Jay, but it's not a long trip. And please, make room for Katy Perry and P!nk, they're sitting across from you.
No, don't bother putting Tinkerbell in her carrying bag, Paris Hilton! Just take Nikki's hand and get on board. Speaking of sisters, nice to see you Jessica and Ashlee Simpson. And I see you've brought your new husband Pete Wentz. Hurry, you three!
Okay, keep loading up, we're on a schedule. Climb aboard, Bai Ling, Amy Winehouse, Brooke & Nick Hogan, Kimberly Stewart, Kelly & Jack Osbourne, Tila Tequila, the cast of Rock of Love, Flavor of Love, Real Chance at Love, and I Love New York, Shauna Sand, Britney Spears, Jamie Lynn Spears, Aubrey O' Day, The Pussycat Dolls, "Speidi," Hayden Panitierre, Rihanna and Chris Brown (behave, you two!), David Spade, Denise Richards, Pete Doherty, Nicole Richie, Tara Reid, the Olsen twins, Kendra Wilkinson, Howard K. Stern, Adnan Ghalib, Sam Lufti, and oh, we mustn't forget you, Brandon Davis! Heck, you're driving this thing!
