It's the General Lee, baby. The General LEE

When I first heard that the General Lee was going up for auction, I felt a wave of nostalgia. Memories from my youth came rushing back: jumping through the car window, playing with my Matchbox cars, opening my Dukes of Hazzard lunch box at school and finding a warm, smelly mayonnaise and bologna sandwich, a bag of carrots, and a thermos filled with tepid liquid crap.

I was eight years old. The year: 1980. Some of the memories were good. Honest.

I remember playing football in the street on Friday nights with the neighborhood kids. All of us running up and down the asphalt, hurling insults and engaging in such heated arguments as "I was NOT out of bounds," and "Yeah-huh, I can too kick your butt." Arguments that made Roe Vs. Wade look silly in comparison. These were the monumental debates of my childhood. Anything that happened outside of my tiny suburban world was meaningless.

The twilight of evening set in and the streetlights lit prematurely with the sound of burning filament. The air grew colder, the play got rougher and we waited anxiously for eight o'clock to roll around. Throwing the football, making tackles, skinning our knees on the dark asphalt -- waiting -- until suddenly...

One of the moms would open a screen door, step out onto the porch and yell:

"Hulk's on!"

We scattered, a bunch of dirt-covered boys scrambling to our houses like they were made of chocolate, barely remembering to pick up the football or say goodnight. We simply bolted to our respective homes without a second glance. We crashed through the front door, switched on the TV and sat so close to the screen that our eyes bled.

8PM on CBS. It was on! The Incredible Hulk followed by the Dukes of Hazzard at nine o’clock. Sweetness. Nothing could distract us from our television for the next two hours.

The Hulk filled the screen with that awesome intro, his eyes all screwed up, his shirt ripped to shreds -- a mammoth Lou Ferrigno drenched in buckets of green emerald Glidden roaring at the camera. We were pumped and ready to see some good ol' fashioned Hulk smashin'.

But then, despite the coolness of the intro, we were forced to watch lame Bill Bixby hog up all the screen time. We just sat there, hoping he would disappear and give way to the big green dude. Who cared about Bill Bixby's problems anyway? Bring on the Hulk. And we knew the routine by Season Two:

a) Homeless Bill Bixby comes to town
b) befriends a chick and/or kid
c) chick and/or kid gets in trouble with bad guys
d) homeless Bill Bixby gets captured by bad guys while trying to save them.
e) bad guys make homeless Bill Bixby mad
f) green guy comes, saves the day, but manages to scare the chick and/or kid
g) homeless Bill Bixby leaves town.

These were the days before TiVo, and we had no choice but to endure the boring setup. It took way too long for the Hulk to open a fresh can of jolly green whoop ass, usually at a warehouse or dockyard and never earlier than 8:55pm.

Once the Hulk ended and nine o'clock rolled around, the main event started: Dukes of Hazzard.

There wasn't a little boy alive that didn't love 'dem Dukes. And you'd watch the entire episode, relishing every minute, wishing you owned that awesome car. The finest automobile ever made. The General Lee.

I used to pray that my dad would buy the General Lee and take me to school in it. I would run out of the house, jump through the window with my Dukes lunch box and head to school in style. Instead, I rode there each day in the back of a yellow Pinto. Sigh. You had to have a REALLY good imagination to mistake a Pinto for the General Lee. Believe me, I tried. The best I could manage was to mistake it for one of the cars in Cooter's garage.

The Dukes of Hazzard ruled. Week after week, the bumbling police failed to capture the Duke boys despite their best efforts. I never even noticed the plot (was there a plot?), I just wanted to see more driving over ramps, more slow-mo shots of cars getting demolished, more scenes with Boss Hogg getting red in the face and yelling "Dem Dukes!"

And though I never actually heard the Hazzard P.D. read someone their rights when making an arrest, I bet they sounded something like this:

Hazzard County Miranda Rights (as read by Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane)
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to start your car, drive over my foot and get away while I jump up and down on one leg and make funny faces. You have the right to steal my gun and shoot the dirt near my shoes causing me to do a silly dance. You have the right to escape from your cell the moment we lock you into it, provided you can somehow outwit the narcoleptic guard sitting in a chair next to your cell with the keyring loosely attached to his belt."

Friday night was King.

Fast forward to 2008.

We're all grown up. Now our only television nostalgia comes from DVD box-sets and Nick at Night reruns. We no longer play football in the street; we play it on the Playstation.

We spend our Friday nights with our wives drinking booze and watching whatever our TiVo recorded. And when the Dukes of Hazzard comes on television, the wives just cluck their tongues, shake their heads and say annoying things like:
a) "This show is stupid."
b) "Can't we watch something else?"
c) "Get off me. I have a headache."

So who could blame me for feeling a tad bit wistful when I heard that I could recapture some of that lost childhood magic? Recently, the General Lee went on the auction block. THE General Lee was up on eBay.

And somebody out there opened up his wallet and went for it, bidding ten million dollars. Ten million dollars for a slice of America. Some of you might call that "Excessive" and "Irresponsible", especially for a car that barely runs, has busted door handles and a flag painted on top representing slavery and secession. If so, then you just don't get it. It's the General Lee, baby. The General LEE.

By the way, if you just shook your head and yelled, "Wait a damn minute! The Confederate Flag represents freedom and independence," then I suggest that you take the General Lee out for a leisurely drive through downtown Oakland or Harlem. Just make sure you blare the horn-- you know, the one that plays "Oh I wish I was living in the land of cotton!" and trumpet that Dixieland theme with pride. If you're lucky, you'll make it out of the city with the frame still intact. Of course, by the time the "locals" get done with you, you'll have that horn shoved so far down your throat that you'll be whistlin' dixie through your colon.

In the end, the bid turned out to be a hoax. Shocking. The good news is that the car may go back up for auction again in the near future. Make sure you're ready for it. I know I will be. That car will be perched atop cement blocks on my front lawn in no time. And I'll squeeze my fat ass through the window every morning, honk the horn and play "Just the good ol' boys" on my iPod Mini.

Now, if someone would just auction off Daisy Duke's Daisy Dukes...

Drunken Thoughts - Special Places in Hell

Actor Richard Gere, star of such films as Runaway Bride, Pretty Woman and a bunch of other movies that nobody watched because Julia Roberts wasn't in them, found himself caught in yet another sexual controversy.

That can mean only one thing....

It's time for this week's: "Guess the Crime!" - the game show where you, the reader, guess which heinous crime the celebrity committed. You'll remember that the answer to last week's question was "A Shih Tzu, a trail of dog treats and a dutch oven." Let's get on to today's question, shall we?

Which of the following is correct?
While traveling through India, Richard Gere
a) was caught masturbating at an IHOP in New Delhi - or, as it's more commonly known, International House of Punjab.
b) was arrested in a pet store after asking the shopkeeper where the private rooms were, if lotion dispensers were readily available, and if he could get some quarters for the machine.
c) picked up a hooker with a striking resemblance to Julia Roberts - an out of work actress that was once quite famous - took her back to his hotel and banged her, then realized it actually WAS Julia Roberts.
d) kissed an indian chick in public.

Yes, the answer is D. Looks like we finally found a society even more uptight than our own. In India, you aren't allowed to show physical affection in public. Gere tried to apologize after street rallies were organized to protest the "Kiss", but things quickly escalated out of control.

The event organizer was rumored to have said: "It was shameful! We invited Richard Gere because of his clean cut image and spotless past. How could we know that he would do something so sexually perverse?"

Laura Dern, known for such cinematic gems as I am Sam - a film which also starred Sean Penn as a mentally retarded adult working at a Starbucks - sat down for an interview with...with...

Wait. What did I just write?

In I am Sam, Sean Penn played a retarded Starbucks barista.

Sigh.

Dear God in heaven,
Hi. How are you? I am fine.
God? There are so many jokes I could mine out of that one sentence. But saying anything will pretty much guarantee me that special plot in Hell you promised last week. You know, the one you carved out for me when I got drunk and laughed until I puked while watching "Botched Conjoined Twin Separations" and "Little People, Big World" on the Discovery Channel.

Please give me the strength to control myself and stay on topic....

Your pal,
Jason

Anyway....Laura Dern stated that ever since the infamous Ellen kiss ten years ago, Hollywood has been snubbing her.

For anyone unfamiliar with the ABC television show Ellen, let me give you a quick three-word synopsis: Exploitative Lesbian Angst.

The show was about as funny as Full House. In fact, if ABC had decided to make Full House controversial - like, for instance, letting Uncle Joey and Uncle Jesse bang each other in front of the Olson twins - then maybe they could've milked a couple more seasons out of that dead horse, too.

And that's just how "Ellen" survived as long as it did. Never mind the fact that you could sit through an entire episode without even cracking a smile. Never mind the fact that Bill Pullman was screwed out of an Oscar for his extremely difficult and awkward performance as Ellen's love interest in "Mr. Wrong." Her TV show survived on nothing more than controversy. Each week, millions of viewers were asking "Is she? Or isn't she?" The answer was "She is. And why the hell should I care?

But that leads us back to poor Laura Dern. She's been outcast from Hollywood based on a TV kiss that everybody watched, yet nobody remembers. Honestly, how many of you just said to yourself: "That was Laura Dern? Shit. I thought it was Sandra Bernhardt"?

In conclusion, if the last ten years have been any indication, then expect Miss Dern's career path to branch off into one of these exciting and promising ventures:
a) Lesbian porn.
b) Lesbian porn.
c) Lesbian porn.

Grace Park from Battlestar Galactica. No, I don't actually have anything to say about her. I just...I just wanted her to know that I'm thinking about her. That's all.

Gene Simmons, from the rock band KISS, now has a reality show called "Family Jewels", which is a complete rip off of the Osbournes. Simmons has always been something of a pioneer. So expect the first episode to include subliminal messages that wipe out the part of your brain that would otherwise make you stand up in the middle of your living room, point a finger at the TV and yell "Rip off!"

Sean Penn once played a retarded Starbucks employee. Damn.

Boy George has been accused of kidnapping a male escort. The singer apparently grabbed him and chained him to a wall.

To anyone under the age of 30, Boy George was the lead singer for a famous band called the Culture Club. He was known for dressing like a chick and caking on way too much makeup. Nowadays he just looks like Liza Minelli with a shaved head.

And, yeah, he kidnapped a dude and chained him to a wall. Are you really that surprised? I'm wearing the same shocked face I had after I read the following headlines:
a) "George Michael found unconscious in car"
b) "Anna Nicole Smith Dies of Drug Overdose."
c) "Neil Patrick Harris Comes out of Closet."

And the headline I see every time I click on ESPN.com:
"NBA/NFL SUPERSTAR (insert name of player here), ARRESTED FOR
1) drug and/or firearm possession
2) DUI
3) Public Indecency
4) spousal abuse
AFTER LEAVING
1) a nightclub
2) a strip club
AND HAS RECEIVED THE SEVERE PUNISHMENT OF
1) half a percent of his annual salary.
2) more publicity.
3) major street cred.
4) a spot in Ron Artest's fave five.

---

So that's it for this week. Until the next time I get drunk, wake up in a pool of my own vomit and feel like sharing unsolicited opinions with complete strangers, ta-ta and good night.

'Twas a Wonderful World (or Potty Training in Hell)

(Sung to the tune of What a Wonderful World)

I saw trees of green, red roses too
I saw them bloom for me and you
And I thought to myself, what a wonderful world

Now

I see stool of brown and yellow pee
The bright blessed smell, that overtakes me
And I think to myself, 'twas a wonderful world

The colors in the toilet, I shake my head and sigh
Are also in your trousers, like splattered chocolate pie
I see friends shakin' hands, sayin' "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I smell poo."

I hear babies cryin', insane I go
I'm sorry pampers, I didn't know
And I think to myself, you're still my little girl
Yes, I think to myself, 'twas a wonderful world.

Oh yeah


(Original un-bastardized lyrics by George Weiss and Bob Thiele. My apologies fellas)

Drunken Thoughts - Hairless Talent

Britney Spears fell off the Sanity Wagon again. Last week, the pop star entered a hair salon, grabbed some clippers and sheared herself bald. She said she "wanted to look like Sinead O'Connor." Lady, Sinead O'Connor looks like Howie Mandel (with slightly larger breasts). Word to the wise: if you want to keep that career going, you'd better grow the blonde hair back - and fast. Otherwise, we'll stop mistaking you for Jessica Simpson and remember that you're just a dumb white chick with a mediocre singing voice.

Britney topped off the evening by visiting a tattoo parlor. Evidently, she didn't just want to look like Sinead O'Conner; she wanted to look like Sinead O'Connor on crack.

And now, the salon is set to auction off the hair that she left behind. All you loser ebay junkies out there: I know you'd pay top dollar for a lock of Britney's hair, but do you really want to? You don't know where it's been. Want a hint? Keven Federline touched it. Yuck.

News of the sadly intriguing: The late Anna Nicole Smith left the family fortune to her dead son. Some might call that a dumb move. I call it the ultimate in money laundering. It seems her sleazy lawyer is trying to negate the will and take control of the entire family fortune.

Here's some free legal advice from a guy that's never stepped foot into a courtroom unchained. If I were the sleazy lawyer, this is how I would get all the money:
a) Go to the cemetary and dig up Anna Nicole's son
b) Contact Disney Studios to animatrate the body; like what they did with Abraham Lincoln and - more impressively - Frank Gifford.
c) Drag the body to court and make its lips move "Thanks, but I really can't use the money anymore. Please just give it to that nice lawyer fella."

Voila. Don't thank me, just send me my cut.

Tom Brady, NFL quarterback, managed to knock up a former girlfriend. Brady recently announced to the media that the woman is pregnant, thereby ignoring the sage advice of his fellow players:
a) Lawrence Philips - "Push her down the stairs."
b) Dan "Big Dummy" Wilkinson - "Punch her in the stomach."
c) OJ Simpson - "Do you want to borrow the Bronco?"

Brady has decided to rebel against the traditional pro-athlete family values. He admitted that he's the father and has vowed to help raise the child. If this is true, then he'll be a pioneer in the NFL. Think about it: In the same year we could see two African-American coaches in the Superbowl, Norv Turner defy the odds and inherit yet another successful franchise to destroy, AND an NFL player take responsibility for his own semen. I'm speechless.

I'm playing Rainbow 6: Las Vegas on my xbox 360. The game features a crack team of commandos trying to stop terrorists from blowing up casinos all over the Vegas strip. What a rip off! Sounds like I missed the real thing. During NBA All-Star weekend in Las Vegas there were riots, shootings, arrests, fights..you name it.

The next Rainbow 6 videogame should be called- Rainbow 6: NBA All-Star Weekend. It would sell a million copies!

Here's a scene from the upcoming game:
COMMANDER - Cooper! Are you there Cooper?
SQUADRON LEADER - Yes sir, I'm here.
COMMANDER - Terrorists have detonated explosives at the Mirage Casino. I repeat: Terrorists have detonated explosives at the Mirage Casino. You are ordered to assist with the civilian evacuation immediately. Proceed to - ...what?...oh shit!
SQUADRON LEADER - Sir?
COMMANDER - Belay that order. We've got a real situation over at the Belagio. Ron Artest and Stephen Jackson are waving guns around. Get your men over there, ASAP soldier!
SQUADRON LEADER - We're on it!
COMMANDER - Proceed with caution. Remember to - Oh, Christ no..!
SQUADRON LEADER- Sir?
COMMANDER - New priority...We just received a report that the Cincinnati Bengals are in town for a promotional gig at the MGM Grand...

Drunken Thoughts - Feudin' With the Donald

The feud between Donald Trump and Rosie O' Donut has been escalating for weeks now. Personally, I love it. But I'd like to offer my assistance to both parties.

Dear Rosie,
Put down the bacon for a second and listen. Enough with the "Donald's obsessed with me" defense. It's horse crap. He's not obsessed with you. You're just an easy target. But if you want to get back at Donald Trump, try saying one of these lines tomorrow on the View:
a) "I may not have a penis, but I sure know how to make one pissy."
b) "Leave me alone, or I'll email you my hot photos of Barbara Walters coming out of the shower."
c) "This is my trough! Nobody spits in Rosie's trough. Nobody!"

Dear Donald,
You are WAY too deep in the mud with this hog. Just politely issue one of these statements and pull yourself out of the muck:
a) "Don't you think you're being a little too hard on that spandex?"
b) "Stop talking about me or I'll get off Ivanka long enough to sue you."
c) "Quit making fun of my hair. This toupee is hand-crafted from Pamela Anderson's own pubic hairs. So you're not fooling anyone. I know you like it."

Tragic wildfires have been blazing through Malibu, CA this week. Celebrities like Suzanne Somers...er...rich and obscure old women like Suzanne Somers have lost their homes. The fire has taken a toll on her acting career as well. She's had to cancel TV gigs like VH1's"Surreal Life: Ask Your Parents, They'll Tell You Who I Was," and the ever popular "Oh-God-I-Miss-Jack-Tripper-So-Much." gushy talk show circuit.

Somers was quoted as saying "My nature is to look at the glass as half full." Yeah, half full of crap. Enjoy hawking more garbage on QVC to try and make ends meet. I recommend turning to porn (but that's always my first recommendation for a failed celebrity - unless they're already a porn star and then I tell them to go on QVC). I'd buy it. Hell, I'd have all my friends over to watch it. We'd squeeze your porn debut somewhere between the Lauren Bacall sex tape and "For Whom the Bell Tolls."

After a 2006 riddled with mistakes, I've written my 2007 New Years Resolutions. Here they are:

a) Never watch another "Lost"-ripoff show until the first season is over. Otherwise, you might get hooked on the show only to find yourself bent over a chair, getting gang banged by the network executives. Damn you for canceling Daybreak and Smith. Damn you all to hell.

b) New philosophy - "More time on the couch. Less time on a treadmill." Don't we all aspire to such lofty goals? That's up there with "Eat more, exercise less" and "Keep a fresh beer in the Honda's cupholder" It's not always attainable, but the journey is the reward, right?

c) Sit through an entire episode of Heroes without rolling my eyes more than ten times.

Baseball announced the newest members of the Hall of Fame yesterday. Shockingly, Mark McGuire wasn't inducted. Funny how that works, eh Big Mac? Your balls shrink, your head grows and your back acne pusses over so badly that you look like you just slid down a waterslide with your shirt on. And after all that, the people still have the audacity to accuse you of cheating when you break the home run record at 65 years old.

People are funny like that. They don't like rewarding cheaters...well...unless you're a San Francisco Giants fan, then you come out to the ballpark and give Barry Beef-roid a nice long standing ovation every time he takes the field. Further proof that San Francisco is completely full of retards.

The Crocodile Hunter's final episode will be airing soon. Though the Discovery Channel swears they won't show Steve Irwin's death scene, they will be showing everything leading up to it. Classy move, Discovery Channel. Even the director of "Bum Fights" thinks that's over the line. Might as well show the entire thing. You know people will tune in. Hell, I've got the TiVo set to record it. Either way, I'm good. If you don't broadcast it, I'll just wait for the footage to show up on YouTube like everyone else. You can't tell me the cameraman stopped filming when he saw Irwin flail around and gasp for air. I just hope he didn't do anything stupid like put the camera down to administer CPR. And, frankly, even though I'm just being facetious, you know that's exactly what the Discovery Channel is hoping, too.

Paris Hilton pleaded not guilty to drunk driving. Yes, I said not guilty. Frankly I'd be less shocked if she told the court she was a 400 pound black woman named Latisha. Four facts are pretty indisputable about Paris Hilton:
1) She likes booze.
2) She likes sex.
3) She likes being the center of attention.
4) She's been entered more times than the turnstile at a Green Bay Packer's home game.