Schmoop Does Bagwine and Asks...Who's Your Daddy?

So, since I seem to now be in charge of this here Bagwine blog, I will try to post witty, intelligent posts. Oh who the hell am I kidding…it will be total drivel. Anyhoo...

Let’s start off with my horrible television viewing habits. Everyone, and I mean ALL of YOU, have guilty viewing habits. Right? 

Of course you do. On to mine.

You may know that Monday thru Thursday evenings, and all day Sunday…I am left to my own devices, as the King, aka Matt Man, is at the Beer Mine.

So, here goes…

He wanted to know why, on Saturday morning, when he turned on the TV, that Cartoon Network was on.

Ok, good question. Why was it on? I’ll tell you why.

“Who lives in a pineapple under the sea, Spongebob Squarepants.” 

Not so bad you say? Moving on.

Bridezillas, Judge Judy, Andy Griffith (only in B/W), HGTV, Food Network, and anything with the Kardashians. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?

Ok, the Bridezilla thing is a bit much, and maybe, maybe the Kardashians (I love you Bruce).

What? Just because I can name them all, even the two youngest ones (Kylie and Kendall)…don’t judge me.

Ok, here’s the big one. At 5:00 every weekday night (except Fridays when Ego-Boy is home), I watch…

MAURY.

I can’t help it people!! I swear! It’s like a train wreck! Who’s the baby daddy, who? I can’t look away. I’m watching it right now as I type this!!

When Matt found out I was sitting in the Captain’s computer chair watching MAURY, he blew a gasket, and had to sanitize the chair!

Big whoop home boy.

When the same woman has 18 men DNA tested, trying to find her baby daddy, and still doesn’t know who it is? Ha!! That is the shits!

Alright, I’ve come clean. I feel so much better. Now tell me yours. What? You don’t actually have any guilty TV pleasures?

Mother fucking liars.

Zooooves!!

Thanksgiving Recipe: Football, Food, and Hold the Blathering

I am looking forward to this Thanksgiving more than any other in recent memory.

Why? Because I have become so fucking bored and addle-minded due to all of the political punditry, prognostication, and repetition of the same vapid crap on the cable “news” shows.

Thanksgiving will offer me a respite from all of this.

Health Care…Anymore, when an “in-the know” panel begins to discuss and debate Health Care reform, my eyes glaze over…my ass hole tightens…and the left side of my upper lip twitches.

I hope that if anything in this area does gets passed, that my syndrome will be covered.

But nothing substantial, if anything will get passed. And why should it? If there is nothing in any proposed bill to control costs, what’s the damn point?

I think my breaking point on this entire issue was when the Senate debated eight hours on a vote that would allow debate on the Senate bill.

And here I thought that our legislators were already there to debate such issues. Silly Matt-Man. Pffffft.

Sarah Palin…Oh Dear GAWD!! I can’t believe I am saying this, but…I am sick of hearing from and about Sarah “Lame and Dull” Palin. I know, she is a source of comedy, but her empty-headedness has reached the point of the mundane.

She’s not going to be President. She’s not a force to be reckoned with. She’s a half-term iglooramus that is going to make a lot of money and have a talk show some day.

Good for her, now go make a made for TV movie of her life and show it on the Lifetime Network.

Lifetime could debut her movie right after a showing of the TV cinematic event…God’s Favorite Vegetable: The Terri Schiavo Story.

Ugh…It’s the same old shit. Climate change. I don’t really care. I mean, I want a clean, freely spinning on its axis Earth, but stop the moaning and gnashing of teeth folks. We’ll live to see another day.

And now? There’s the this whole Afghanistan thing. When will Obama make up his mind? When will he stop dithering? Pfffft. Who fucking cares?

Obama is taking his time on a strategy, good for him.

It is almost winter in Afghanistan and there isn’t going to be a whole helluva lot going on for a few months. Maybe his options suck because they all have us staying in Afghanistan for several years.

I say we buy up the poppy fields. Employ the Afghans to cultivate and harvest them and sell the crop to the pharmaceutical companies so they can produce all of the medicinal opiates that they need.

We take our cut, and the rest of the money can be used to build infrastructure, schools, and housing. On top of that, the unemployment rate in Afghanistan would be like 4%. That’s how you make people happy.

See? Unlike other talking heads…I have just defined victory in Afghanistan. Happy Afghans.

And please network talking heads…Quit saying that Obama, in order to decide our strategy, has convened his “war council”.

War Council? WTF?

Are we living in 14th Century England and Obama is King Edward III discussing plans for the Battle of Crécy?

Just…Stop…It…

Anyhoo. Thanksgiving will offer me the opportunity to eat, drink, and watch TV that will be devoid of all of this blathering for nearly four full days.

I am very much looking forward to all of the coverage of football, sappy family stories, and video of early morning shoppers storming the stores for Christmas bargains.

For that, I am truly thankful.

Cheers!!

Purina, Chef Michael's Canine Creations, and Fancy Feast Cat Appetizers: Turning Pets Into People

As one who finds well done TV commercials to be the best television on television, I pay attention to new ads religiously.

I found a couple of new TV commercials to be disturbing. I don’t find the way the ads are done to be disturbing, but rather, the products themselves.

Beneful Dog Food, Chef Michaels’s Canine Creations, and Fancy Feast Appetizers for Cats, all of which are produced by Purina, have left me scratching my ginormous head.

The Beneful comes in dry and “prepared” meals for dogs, one of which is a Roasted Turkey Medley that contains corn, wild rice, peas, and barley. Do dogs really crave barley and rice?

Even more troubling are Chef Michaels’ Canine Creations…Now baby, that commercial does weird me out.

There’s a guy in the kitchen talking to his mop looking dog saying something like, “You’re a special, special dog and you deserve a special meal.”

Ewwwwww, the soft, loving tone of the dude’s voice makes it sound like he’s going to do it doggy style with the mutt after she eats her super special “chef prepared” meal.

That specific thought I get when I hear him is confirmed when he says lovingly, “You’re right girl; It’s a beef stew kinda night.” Urp.

One of the meals that “Chef Michael” has prepared for your special dog is, Filet Mignon with Peas and Carrots. WTF? Peas and Carrots? For a dog?

When I owned my house that is now simply a place that I go to in order to visit Ryno, I had a garden. I grew vegetables, and among them were peas and carrots.

There were many dogs in the neighborhood, and I don’t remember any dogs ravishing my crop of peas and carrots, unless of course, there was a rabbit in the garden and they wanted to eat him.

Call me crazy, but I don’t think dogs are big vegetable eaters. The only acceptable reason to feed them peas and carrots is if you own two dogs and their names are, Forrest and Jenny.

Some marketing genius at Purina Pet Foods, discovered that many pet owners are gullible enough to think that their special canine family member needs vegetables just like the doting owner.

Freaks, why don’t you buy your bow wow a gallon of V-8 when you go to the grocery as well.

Another stroke of marketing genius by Purina includes, Fancy Feast Appetizers for Cats…or as I call them, Catppetizers.

As the pictures says, “…an entirely new way to celebrate the moment.”

What the hell kind of “special moments” does one have with their cat? Did the cat win the Nobel Prize? Did the owner and the cat just finish watching Schindler’s List and they’re all verklempt?

It’s a fucking cat people!! They don’t need appetizers!!

The only cat appetizer that makes sense to me is if one takes a big meaty Maine Coon Cat, cuts it up into bite size pieces, deep fries it, and serves it alongside a spicy sauce. Now that’s a cat appetizer. Yum!!

I do love our cat Corky, but the only appetizer she gets is when I put a little milk and catnip on my balls.

Well, I guess that’s more of an appetizer for me, so forget I mentioned that. Please…forget that I mentioned that. Please?

Anyhoo…Am I the only one who thinks these products are goofy? Please tell me that I’m not.

And now, a 16 second video of a product that will revolutionize communications. Ladies and Gentlemen, my boss has eschewed the Blue Tooth Headset phone…Why? Because size matters. Enjoy…

You know what’s cool? Yesterday, while invoking Plato and Plutarch, I founded a new political movement, and today?

I am talking about pet food, cat sex, and airing a short video of my boss and owner of the best Beer Mine in Bagwine with a cell phone on his ear.

Holy Cow!! Am I one eclectic son of a bitch or what?

Cheers!!

Here's The Story, Of A Man Named Brady...

I was flipping through the channels Wednesday night and I just kept coming across old shows.

Not re-runs of newer shows…I’m talking old shows like, The Brady Bunch, and others.

As I am now older, I have kind of a different perspective on some of the TV shows that I watched while growing up and now air on TV Land and elsewhere.

For instance, take the aforementioned, The Brady Bunch.

I would watch it on Friday nights while eating Mikesell’s Sour Cream and Onion potato chips and sipping on some Faygo Red Pop when I was eight years old or so.

I thought it was mildly amusing, and I was somewhat envious of the Bradys.

I thought the Brady house was way cool. I was envious that they had a maid who cooked dinners of spaghetti AND steak.

They went on great vacations to the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, Kings Island, and Mr. Phillips’ big boat.

As our family was at best, middle class, I was soooo digging the opulent Brady lifestyle.

I would watch in order to see what type of hilarity would ensue when those wacky, well-to-do Bradys got together. Good times…good times.

The other night when I caught an episode of the show while puffing on a Basic Full Flavor and sipping on some Wild Irish Rose at the age of 44...I discovered something that never struck me when I watched it at the age of eight.

Mike Brady was a major league asshole…and most of all, a fucking cheapskate.

Mike Brady was allegedly some architectural guru living in the L.A. area who was always in demand for his keen designs. If that was the case, I’m sure he had money out the ass.

So, how come his six kids had to squeeze themselves to sleep within two tiny bedrooms while he and Carol slept in a huge ass boudoir that they never used…’cause, well, he was gay and all?

Hell, Mr. Brady treated his maid, Alice, better than his kids…at least she had her own bedroom. Why?

Because Alice cooked and cleaned for Mr. Twinkle Toes…and I’m guessin’ that Sam the Butcher slid Mike some free meat once in awhile as well.

Even with his huge ass family and all of his cash, the tight assed jerk would only spring for one car. For awhile, the miserly prick had a pay phone installed in his house and made the kids use that.

“But Matt-Man,” you ask. “What about all of those great vacations that he took them on? That had to set him back more than a few dollars.”

If I remember correctly…The boat, King’s Island, and the trip to Hawaii were on his boss’ dime. He didn’t spend any of his own cash, the rotten bastard.

Oh sure, there’s the trip to the Grand Canyon for which he footed the bill, and what happened on that trip?

The kids got stuffed into tents rather than a lodge, and Bobby and Cindy were left alone to wander away and nearly die in the stifling Arizona heat.

Some dad Mike Brady was...

He was probably stashing all his cash away so he could go to Sweden, have a sex change, and come back home to have hot sex with Mr. Phillips on that swanky boat.

Mike Brady was a cheap, selfish bastard, a lousy father, and I hate him.

As for me? I am taking my son fishing this morning, and guess what? I'm going to spring for the nightcrawlers.

Cheers!!

Fuck Al Roker, I Want a Real Tornado Warning

Boy, Oh Boy do I have something to get off of my chest.

Listen up, Bitches. I have of all things, a complaint about TV.

Now listen, I’m not someone who watches much TV at all. No, not because I am some type of elitist, but because the only TV that I typically watch is as follows…

News/Political Talk Shows…Sports…Seinfeld Re-Runs, and The Weather Channel.

It is the last mention, The Weather Channel, that has me furious. And trust me, the last time I was furious was when I found out that Schmoop only came once during our sex session last night of June 14, 2008.

Laugh all you want, but trust me, I am pissed at my beloved Weather Channel. The meteorological muthafuckahs have sold out.

Let me ’splain.

Remember when MTV used to play music? Remember when VH-1 did the same? I know…I do too.

Of course they decided to go against their own grain and start showing and producing their own, “eclectic” productions.

The Real World…Tia, I’m an Ugly Bisexual Bitch Idiot…Best Week Ever (Hosted by B-List Comedians and Actors in Rehab)

Oy Vay, and What the Fuck!?

Well my friends, The Weather Channel, which had been on the same slippery slope, has finally and completely jumped the shark and gone the same way as MTV and VH-1.

Starting July 20th, The Weather Channel will air a new segment on weekdays from 6-7 A.M. called, creepily enough, “Wake Up With Al”.

And who is the Al, with you and I will be awaking? Al Fucking Roker. That’s right. That big tub of vacuous, chocolate pudding that is Al Roker.

Holy Cow!! Or should that be, Holy Occluded Front!?

Listen up, my friends…I am quite the amateur meteorologist, and know more about weather than the average person. And, this action by The Weather Channel?

Well…it sticks deeply within my dew point, and my barometer is tossing mercury left and right.

I understand that NBC bought the Weather Channel, but does that mean that they need to sodomize America by showing Al Roker on TWO networks instead of one every weekday morning?

The Weather Channel has Jim Cantore, Mike Seidel, Heather “I Love Thunderstorms” Tesch (purrrrrrr) and other ACTUAL meteorologists.

Why do they have to rain on my TV breakfast and pee on my eggs by thrusting Roker on me?

I hate Roker…First of all, he’s not an ACTUAL meteorologist and secondly he’s a hypocrite.

When Imus was on MSNBC, Roker said that he loved him and had always listened to him. Roker went on Imus’ show, and pimped his book.

When Imus called the Rutgers ladies b-ball team a bunch of nappy headed ho’s?

Roker was "OUTRAGED!!" Mainly because, Roker had already used Imus in order to pimp his book.

Gimme a break…I don't know, but I do hope Roker‘s stomach staples will someday give way. I do know a couple of things, however.

The Weather Channel is going to get ruined by NBC and their hiring of people who are not ACTUAL meteorologists in order to turn a profit.

And…

Al Roker is going to be struck down dead by lightning while eating a ham and cheese sandwich.

At least that’s my hope.

Cheers!!