August 26, 2005
Letter to Pat Robertson
Don't get me wrong, it's fun to call for the assassination of people you don't like. I do it all the time! Hell, if I had a dollar for every time I screamed "SOMEBODY KILL THIS JACKASS" at the TV set, I'd have... exactly $163. And that's just from watching The 700 Club.
But here's the difference between you and me, Pat: When I call for the death of some random person, it's usually in the privacy of my own home. For me it's a harmless way to let off steam, because no one ever listens to me. Sure, I'll sometimes call for assassinations in public places: shopping malls, hair salons... occasionally the Olive Garden. But even in these locations, people tend to ignore me. Or they pretend to. Sometimes I'm asked to leave. The point is, when I cry out for the death of public figures, I have little reason to believe anyone will act on my proposal. I don't have a TV show, Pat. You do. Your show, The 700 Club, is syndicated into millions of homes. All I've got is this shitty web page. See the difference?
When you appear on the 700 Club and suggest that someone needs to be rubbed out, there's a fair number of crazy-ass fuckers in your viewing audience who are just crazy-ass enough to do something about it. And do your viewers have guns? Oh my, yes. So, Pat, when you call for assassinations - as you did the other day for Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez - it is sort of a big deal. Do you seriously not get that?
Now... to be clear, I don't give a damn what happens to the president of Venezuela. Maybe the guy deserves to get his head blown off by some CIA wet team. What do I know. Like most Americans, I probably couldn't even find Venezuela on a map. Unless the map was clearly labeled... which I suppose most maps are, these days. I guess I could just scan the map until I see a country that has the word "Venezuela" written across it in big block letters. But that could take a while. Maybe if I used Google maps...
Anyway, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Pat. But this is becoming a bit of a habit with you. You've publicly asked God to kill members of the Supreme Court. You suggested that someone needs to detonate a nuclear device inside the State Department's headquarters.
Have you considered doing Yoga or maybe subscribing to NetFlix or something? I think you're in a bad place, man... perhaps you should take up a hobby. Or maybe a pet. Studies have shown that dog-owners are 43% less likely to call for the assassination of world leaders.
Think it over.
August 24, 2005
If you had an opportunity to watch the Monday Night Football preseason game last night, you missed some high quality television. Obviously, I'm not talking about the game. Few people can get excited about a meaningless scrimmage where all the decent players sit out after the first period, leaving a handful of late-round draft picks to trade blunders for the next two hours. But if there is one man that can get excited about this spectacle, it's TV commentator/video game mascot John Madden.
Americans love Madden. I don't know why, exactly... but I've got a theory. It goes something like this:
*Americans hate anyone smarter than they are.
*Americans are idiots.
*What Americans don't hate, they love.
*Americans Love Madden.
So there you go, an explanation for the popularity of John Madden, Blue Collar TV and the current state of American politics - all rolled into one.
Anyway, back to this preseason matchup between the Seahawks and the Cowboys. During the game, some player took a pretty hard shot and had to leave the game to have some x-rays taken (they have x-ray facilities at all NFL stadiums). Later on, ABC's camera crew got a shot of some coaches looking at the x-ray images on the sideline. It was a fairly distant shot, the details of the image weren't all that clear... certainly not clear enough to really see what the coaches were looking at. But that sure didn't stop Madden.
Upon seeing this over-the-shoulder image of the x-rays, Madden launches into what can only be described as an attempt at medical diagnosis. Hell, it might have been pretty convincing too - had the diagnosis come from the mouth of, you know, VIRTUALLY ANYONE OTHER THAN JOHN MADDEN.
"What they're looking at there, Al, is a FEMUR. Yeah, and it's not lookin' so good! Ooh, I think I see a crack there. You see it, Al? That's what the coaches are looking at, Al - it's a cracked femur! That big guy's out 4-6 weeks."
Meanwhile, Madden's sidekick Al Michaels gently, yet with increasing desperation, tries to change the subject. Like I said, it was good television.
And it also made me wonder: why isn't John Madden's interest in medicine incorporated into the newest incarnation of his popular football game, Madden 2006? The game has gotten fairly weak reviews, due to a lack of compelling new features. So here's an idea for Madden 2007: Dr. Madden mode. In previous versions of the game, players would get injured from time to time. Though it's assumed they receive treatment, you never really get to see it in the game. Well, in Dr. Madden mode, you not only get to see your banged-up players treated on the field, but you get to see them treated by Madden himself! This, in turn, becomes a sort of mini-game. As Madden waddles down from the press booth, you must jam your X-button repeatedly in order to get your injured player to crawl off the field before the big guy can "treat" him (thereby ending his season, possibly his career). Alternately, you might be able to play the role of Dr. Madden... poking and prodding the injured player with an assortment of strange medical implements. As you progress through the game, you can unlock new and terrifying devices that Dr. Madden can use to torment fallen footballers.
Hey, if video game designers are willing to give a medical license to freaking MARIO I guess they'll let anyone practice medicine.
August 22, 2005
I Dream of Supercross
Last week, I was watching late night TV. Some talk show. They had on an actor from Supercross: The Movie, an action-sports popcorn flick that opened nationwide last Friday. As I fell asleep, I was listening to this actor talking about the movie, and it didn't sound very appealing. But I was wrong. As it turns out, Supercross is an outstanding movie.
You wouldn't know it from the reviews, though. Of the 49 reviews compiled at rottentomatoes.com, only one of them would be considered positive - and that one comes from a woman who refers to herself as the "Movie Mom". Doesn't inspire much confidence, especially when you consider that the best she could say about the movie was that "it manages to stay out of the way of its minor pleasures by not trying to be more complicated than it needs to be." I've tried parsing that statement three times already and I'm still not sure it's actually a compliment. As for the rest of the reviews, the news isn't good. Reviewers complain that the movie focuses on action shots of careening motorcycles to the expense of... well, pretty much everything else: character development, plot, gunplay. Despite these piss poor reviews, I very much enjoyed Supercross: The Movie.
Now, I haven't actually seen this film in the theaters. Rather, I dreamt it.
Last week, when I fell asleep watching that talk show, my mind must have glommed on to the general themes of this movie, as descibed by the talk show participants. That night, as I slept, I actually dreamt Supercross: The Movie. Let me tell you - it was excellent! There was plenty of action, hot chicks, witty dialogue. On the downside, the plot didn't make much sense. Honestly, I'm not sure there was any plot there at all... but from the reviews I've read, the theatrical release doesn't have much plot either, and you have to drive your ass to a movie theater to see that version. And you can't beat the convenience of experiencing a first run movie in the comfort of your own home... while you sleep! The way I see it, dreaming movies may be your best entertainment value.
Because God knows no one should have to pay to see this shit.
August 18, 2005
Random TV episode synopsis of the week: (part 2)
A Trash Can of Skin
Discovery Health Channel Aug 18 10:00pm
Special/Other, 60 Mins.
A British woman has 35 pounds of fat and loose skin removed.
(Disgusting. But less so than watching The View.)
August 17, 2005
Easy Target: Bravo TV
On an episode of Bravo's groundbreaking reality series, Being Bobby Brown, Bobby recounts an amusing incident in which he helped relieve his wife Whitney's constipation. Manually. In that moment, when Bobby describes the process of reaching into Whitney Houston's ass and pulling out chunks of impacted feces, one can't help but think of how this anecdote serves as an apt metaphor for the entire Bravo network. In this metaphor, Bobby represents Bravo's series development executives, Whitney (her ass, actually) represents popular culture. And those big wads of shit... those represent Bravo's entire programming schedule.
Let's go back in time for a moment. Back to 1980. Back when Paris Hilton was nothing but a glimmer in Kathy Hilton's eyes. A nasty, slutty, stupid-as-all-get-out glimmer. Ah yes, 1980: the year when Bravo emerged as a commercial-free arts orientated movie network. Must have been pretty sweet, back then - turn on your TV and see some foreign films or performing arts programming. Even though the network only broadcast 12 hours a day, it was 12 hours of quality. Or so I've been told... it's not like I actually watched Bravo in the 80's. I was prepubescent for much of the decade, and - at the time - was more interested in cartoons. So give me a fucking break.
The point is, Bravo wasn't always what they are now. And what they are now is basically a shite delivery system. The network's current slogan, "See What Happens" would be more accurate if it were changed to "You Fuckers Will Watch ANYTHING". Let's review some of Bravo's current/recent programming:
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: It's true, there's no problem in my life that can't be fixed with $300 worth of moisturizer.
Celebrity Poker Showdown: Because there isn't enough poker on TV already.
Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List: Bitch, you'd be lucky just to get on the waiting list for the D-List.
Manhunt, Boy Meets Boy, Gay Weddings: OK, Bravo. We get it. Gay people watch shite television too.
Battle of the Network Reality Stars: Kill me now.
Of course, Bravo isn't the worst offender when it comes to filling airtime with dull reality debacles and cheap regurgitations of pop culture. Vh1 retains that title (and will likely be the subject of a future Easy Target). However, when you consider that Bravo began as a sophisticated arts network, the network deserves special HATE for their spiraling descent into crap-gramming.
August 16, 2005
Random TV episode synopsis of the week:
ETV Aug 15 10:00pm
Series/Reality, 60 Mins.
A reality star's medical problems affect the shoot; a gay actor must perform a heterosexual love scene; two characters are burned to death.
(sadly, no "reality stars" were actually burned to death in this episode)
August 15, 2005
Paula Abdul beds skanky vocalist, retains job
See if you can complete this sentence, from a recent Associated Press wire piece:
"Attorneys Marcell McRae, a former federal prosecutor, and Ivy Kagan Bierman jointly handled the probe. The 3 1/2-month inquiry included interviews with 43 people and a review of material provided by ____"
If you guessed "the Bush Administration", "Karl Rove's personal counsel", or "former Enron executives"... give yourself a star. A brown star. The color brown representing your total, complete ignorance.
No, the correct conclusion to this sentence was "Abdul and Clark". As in, American Idol judge Paula Abdul and former Idol contestant Corey Clark.
Back in May a shocking ABC Dateline expose (entitled "Fallen Idol") revealed shocking accusations of shockingly inappropriate sexual relations between these two. Clark, described by some as "a poor man's Kevin Federline", was quoted in the piece as follows:
"That night, as we were having sex, I kept flashing on her videos and thinking, 'Oh, my God! I'm doing it with Paula Abdul,' " he says. "But I kept my cool and I did my thing."
Of course, Corey Clark is not alone. Many of us think about Paula Abdul's videos while having sex. With Paula Abdul. Whether, during the sexual act, we think of Paula herself or of her defunct animated sidekick MC Skat Kat hardly matters.
The point is, FOX TV, makers of such controversial programming as "When Animals Attack" and "When Right Wing Assholes Attack" (more commonly known as The O'Reilly Factor) actually hired an independent counsel to investigate Clark's accusations. FOX's commitment to preserving the integrity of American Idol is certainly impressive. Lest we forget, this is the same competition that has produced superstars such as:
That white dude with the big fro
The big fat R&B guy Conan makes fun of
That skinnier R&B chick who won it, then disappeared
Some dull blonde country singer who pimps chocolate bars
Clearly FOX can't allow some horny, aging pop star to subvert the results of such an important cultural institution. Fortunately, after nearly four months of investigation, the independent counsel concluded that Clark's sex accusations could not be proven. Therefore, Abdul will keep her job. Such as it is.
However, I wonder if FOX's independent counsel had enough authority to investigate this matter to the fullest extent. Personally, I think that this job was far better suited to the same group that watchdogs professional sports: The US Senate. If Jose Canseco injecting human growth hormone into his ass is the business of Congress, shouldn't we depend on them to maintain the integrity of a TV singing contest? Until I turn on CSPAN and see Paula Abdul sitting on Capital Hill, being grilled by Rick Santorum and Joe Lieberman, I don't think I can ever look at Idol the same way again.
August 11, 2005
Officer Shaq Protects the Children
Do you like to solicit teenage girls for sex on the internet?
Of course you do. Pervert.
But the next time you're chatting up some sweet young thing in a chatroom, WATCH OUT. What you think is a horny thirteen year old might actually be NBA superstar Shaquille O'Neal!
Shaq just completed an intensive training session with Operation Blue Ridge Thunder, an elite Internet Crime Unit. The mission of OBRT: "To safeguard our children from Internet crime by 'weaving a seamless web of protection' around them". This unit specializes in online sting operations, and no one hates internet predators more than Big Diesel.
Having trained to be a police officer back in his days as a Los Angeles Laker, online stings may prove to be the ideal law enforcement opportunity for the Miami Heat center. Shaq's hectic training schedule (along with occasional studio sessions with the Fu-Schnickens) leave little time for traditional police activities. However, Shaq can troll the net for would-be child molesters any time day or night: after practice, during halftime, at the free-throw line (might as well do something useful while he's there). Logging into various instant messenger services and chatrooms, Shaq will pose as a young girl, using screen names such as HeatGrrl13, BigDunk_Ch1ca, or KobeSUX_33.
Once he successfully lures in an internet sleazebag (ie. YOU), what's the next step? He could report you to the proper authorities. Or, he could come to your house and SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE. During his training with Blue Ridge Thunder, O'Neal didn't merely learn to tool around the internet - he also received advanced weapons training for pistols and shotguns. This training not only increases Shaq's effectiveness as a law enforcement officer, but also promises to relieve him of his enduring shame: the shame of being among the last NBA players who haven't at least attempted to shoot somebody.
Though Shaquille O'Neal is certain to be a valuable asset to OBRT's sting operations, he may prove to be a less-than-effective undercover operative. When a middle aged net-stalker shows up at a shopping mall to get with the hot 15 year-old he met on AOL Teen Chat, he may get suspicious when his "girl" turns out to be a 7-foot-1, 325 pound man wearing a halter top. And a blond wig.
Even so, the internet is that much safer now that Shaq Daddy is online looking after The Children. Within a few years, dirty old men may have to go back to soliciting underage sex the old fashioned way: by hanging around high school parking lots and joining rock bands.
August 10, 2005
Fun Facts: Robert Palmer
Most people enjoy Robert Palmer's classic rock hit, Addicted to Love. But most people don't know that the song was originally titled "Addicted to Crystal Meth". Catchy, yes... but the record label thought it was too controversial to get radio airplay. Palmer went back to the studio to revise the lyrics, but the resulting track "Addicted to Child Pornography" drew similar criticism from Island Records executives. Palmer's second rewrite of the song, "Addicted to Love (The Love of Young Boys)" was more palatable to the label, once they removed all references to man-boy love and surrounded Palmer with creepy clone chicks.
Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.
Joey Headset FAQ
Since I'm new here, some of you might have questions. So let's get this out of the way.
Q. Who is Joey Headset?
A. Many people have asked this question. Many people have answered it with a string of obscenities.
Q. Is Joey Headset your real name?
A. No. Moron.
Q. So, you think [name of movie, TV show, song, etc] sucks? Well, Joey... YOU SUCK!
A. No. You suck.
Q. No... YOU suck!
A. Your mother sucks.
Q. So you think [name of movie, TV show, song, etc] sucks? You think you could do any better?
Q. So you think [name of Christian themed movie, TV show, song, etc.] sucks. Well I love [see above] and I love the Lord! You think you're better than Jesus?
Q. Why are you always hating on stuff, Joey?
A. Fuck you.
Q. Hey Joey, there's some big time HATE welling up in my soul. Can I write about it on your site?
A. Maybe! I would like to run the occasional "Guest Hate" feature, so if you've got something you'd like to contribute, please drop me an email. But remember: Come correct or don't come at all.
Welcome to Joey Headset
Do you love movies, TV, music, celebrities, pop culture?
Do you enjoy action-adventure comedies, Reality TV, Disney-pop, VH1 celebrity profile shows, Rap-Rock, sensitive novels written by sensitive academics?
Hi, I'm Joey Headset, and I hate everything. Well, maybe not everything. There are a few things I don't hate... or maybe I hate them a bit less than I hate some other things. But mostly, I just hate stuff. Join me, won't you, as I transform my petty hatred for damn near everything into internet-web-humor for your personal entertainment. It's going to be fun. Really.