J is Lazy: Best Of J

The Jackson-Feldman Tapes

(originally published on the disasterous MySpace site, February 22, 2005)

It appears that child mega-star Corey Feldman has been subpoenaed in the Michael Jackson kiddie-rape trial. Apparently, all of the news coming out about the King of Pop & Little Boy Fondling caused the star of such hits as “Meatballs 4”, “Blown Away”, and “The Thief and The Stripper” to reevaluate some of his encounters with his former friend. In fact, I was able to obtain a never-before released audio tape from an undisclosed source that reveals the details of one such sordid encounter. In this tape, we hear Jackson stepping out of line as he helps Feldman learn his lines for the 1985 hit “Goonies”:

Feldman: OK, Mike, let’s take it from the top of page 12. You’ll read as Data and I’ll be Mouth.

Jackson: Ooh, ‘Mouth’…I like that.

F: Um, just read the lines…

J: OK, Mouth…“Jeez Mouth, what’s the matter with...”…say, Corey, is this Data kid the Asian one?

F: Yeah, Jonathan Ke Quan plays him.

J: Oooh, I like those Asian boys. Should I talk like one? Ching chong chang!

F: Mike, that’s not very nice.

J: Do you have Jonathan’s phone number? Maybe he wants to come hang out…

F: Look, I really need to learn these lines…

J: Sure, whatever you say, Mouth

F: Why do you keep saying “Mouth” like that?

J: Well, I… (Unintelligible; struggling)…Are these Fruit of the Loom?

Sadly, the tape cuts out at this point, and we are only left to wonder what happened to poor Corey.

This Love

Thanks to Michelle’s trusty subscription to beloved celebrity rag Us Weekly, the shocking news has been revealed that Jessica Simpson allegedly cheated on Nick Lachey while they were still pretending to be a couple in love for the purpose of promoting their MTV Series Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica. The “other” man? Why it’s Maroon 5 front-man Adam Levine! Now, a quick perusal of the official Maroon 5 website indicates that it would be set up much like any other celebrity’s site: links to news, bios, pics, info, and the ever-important store, where you can buy all kinds of Maroon 5-adorned crap – my favorite item would have to be the Maroon 5 black logo panties, which will no doubt need to be changed by their wearer once they get a peek at the dreamy Mr. Levine.

Oh, Adam Levine is dreamy alright. And if you don’t believe me, go take a gander at the staggering 317 pages of posts that comprise the Adam Levine Love Thread. Levine lovers such as M5FanoverFifty (who depressingly has posted 3,009 messages to the Maroon 5 website in the past 12 months) and Feet11 (hobbies: Listening to Maroon 5, knitting [while listening to Maroon 5], playing with my kids [while listening to Maroon 5]) (call DCFS, somebody, please!) pay homage to the dreamy rocker by posting picture after picture coupled with cutesy messages thanking each other for posting such wonderful pictures. And while it’s true what they say that a picture is worth a thousand words, the first few words that flow into my mind from looking at these pictures tell the whole story: “My name is Adam Levine. Look at me, for I am hot shit. See how hot I am? See how sexy my half-assed beard is? See my underwear? I am almost too cool to have fans, but I deserve the ones I have…” And on and on it goes. From the sullen rocker gaze to the smarmy grins to the painfully posed “action shots” to the “oh, yeah, I guess being in the VIP section of this hot LA club is kind of cool and all” photos, it doesn’t take yours truly to reach the conclusion that aside from the fact that he puts out (in my humble opinion) shitty music, I don’t think I care very much for Mr. Levine.

Which brings me back to Jessica Simpson. I realize that this marriage of hers was likely doomed from the start. I don’t imagine it’s ever a good idea to allow the delicate first years of your marriage, your “lifelong commitment” to another human being, play out on television airwaves. Regardless of how good it may be for ratings, it’s probably not a wise idea to paint yourself as a buffoon by wondering whether buffalos have wings or acting confused when tuna is called “Chicken of the Sea”, especially when you are not legitimately so stupid. Further, one would think that when you are a) a widely recognizable celebrity and b) married, it almost certainly wouldn’t be prudent to engage in coitus with someone who is not your spouse and not expect some backlash. But here we are with fresh allegations that, while still indeed married to noted Cincinnati Bengals fan Lachey, Simpson and Levine were having an affair. And now that the marriage has ended, it appears that she and the “bad boy rocker” (Us Weekly’s term, not mine) are now an item, with their recent meeting at Levine’s hotel resulting in a visit from the hotel’s security unit responding to another customer’s complaint of “loud, amorous noises” emitting from the room. Puke.

Now of course Jessica comes off as despicable for this adulterous act. However, I maintain that it takes two to tango, and given her stature as a pop culture icon, there is no feasible way Levine couldn’t have known that she had a husband. Yet there he went, romancing her, wooing her, perhaps even performing oral sex on her, despite the fact that she was married. And judging from what little I know of him, from that crappy album his band put out (I believe there’s still only the one – are we looking at the next Coldplay?) those pictures that scream thousands of unlikable, arrogant and narcissistic words about him, part of the whole appeal was to prove a point: “I can bang Jessica Simpson if I want because hey, I’m Adam Fucking Levine.” If Lachey wasn’t such good friends with Matt Leinhart, I might feel sorry for him. But I guess in a sense Simpson and Levine deserve one another. They both enjoy unprecedented publicity as a result of their limited accomplishments. They both rely heavily, perhaps too heavily, on their good looks. They both think the LA club scene is just to die for. And by 2008, they will both likely be rotting away on Lite FM stations across the country. So maybe, just maybe, things do happen for a reason. Maybe these are two self-centered star-crossed lovers that truly deserve each other. So I say kudos to you, Jessica – go have a great time w/Adorable Adam in his hotel room. And after you two get done fucking each other, go fuck yourselves.a

A Desperate Plea from a Desperate Madman

I never thought it would come to this, but here we are.

Sigh

I come to you, on bended knee, seeking...Validation.

As the nine of you know, I often refer to you in the most loving manner in my rants, writings, tales and ramblings. The original Nine were hand-selected by me, the Madman, because of their loyalty, their forthcoming nature and their willingness to comment on what I used to forcefeed them via email ever couple of days/weeks/months. These stalwart souls even hung with me through the myspace.com debacle, during which I tried to lead everyone to a site that required registration and led to thousands of irritating spam emails for requests to add "friends" to your profile. Thankfully, I bailed on myspace.com, which thanks to Dateline NBC is now known for its keen ability to lead sexual predators to unsuspecting tweens and teens. Good wholesome fun, that myspace.com (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10912603/).

Perhaps it's insecurity, perhaps it's my lack of faith, but lately my references to the Nine have begun to question their very existence. Sure there are the few, the proud, the trusty commenters: greg, roman, mark, mary, jeff, drexel, and my surprise German commenter Chriswab (Willkommen meinen Freund!). I also receive the occasional email to newsandnotes@hotmail.com, aka, Your Pipeline to the Madman. And yes, others of you provide verbal notification that you enjoy what I spew at you. I love you all for it.

However, one thing I've always relayed to my faithful is my desire to expand my reach, to boost readership, and to receive some sort of "shout out" as the kids say that, yes Madman, we're here, we're drinkin' it in, and man, we DIG. And given that I'm no longer banging out Word documents and forcefeeding them to dozens of unsuspecting fools, many of whom have activated their junk mail filters against all 127 of my email accounts, my true reach can only be measured by the number of lucky individuals I contact via the Madman Ramblings email alerts. And at my last count, including the Nine, the population stood at...18.

Yes, 18 people may very well be the highest level that my readership will ever swell to. That would be a shame, because as anyone who knows me can attest to, I aim to please, and pleasing 18 people isn't quite the same as pleasing 180, 1,800, 18,000, etc. I have my eyes on world conquest, folks, and 18 just ain't gonna cut it.

Now don't get me wrong - the 18 people who I currently reach are very near and dear to my heart - again, I imagine the number to be less than that because of the aforementioned junk mail filter option, but hey, I'm an optimist. You are the heart of this operation, meaning you pump my blood and will die a violent death when I as an American eventually succumb to heart disease that could have been prevented by eating a little bit healthier and walking up one flight of stairs one day a week instead of constantly taking the fucking elevator (as many fatasses in many of the office buildings I've worked in are apt to do, but I digress). But you are also the heart of this operation in the figurative sense of the term - you are the the driving force behind my creative juices, my inspiration, my collective muse. Don't go changing on me now.

When I say don't go changing, I actually mean that I need you to change IMMEDIATELY. I am putting out a challenge/request - if you are indeed out there, and you are indeed reading this particular posting, I ask that you scroll down to the end, click on the Comments link, and give me and the rest of the Madman Ramblings community your thoughts on my pathetic insecurity regarding this whole matter. You don't have to register ala myspace, so you won't have some creepy, potbellied 48-year-old man show up in your kitchen bearing gifts of Smirnoff Ice, pictures of his genitals and Trojan Extra Lube condoms (lucky you!). I believe you'll only be required to jump through a Ticketmaster-esque security step (keeps the spammers at bay) and pick a screen name. Feel free to identify yourself (ala greg) or take the clandestine route (ala roman). And tell me what you think - one word, two words ("Eat Shit" will do), a dissertation, I really don't care! I'll never reveal your identity should you not want me to, so feel free to go a little nuts. Hey, I've admitted to ingesting large quantities of psychedelic drugs - you can too, and with the warm security blanket of sweet anonymity!

The other thing I ask - if, and only if, you know of someone who might get a kick out of what I write, I implore you to send them the link. If the threaten you with social isolation as a result, speak no more of the Ramblings - I will still be grateful. However, if I can turn a few more people on, get a few more commenters lobbing words of encouragement and/or insults my way, I will feel validated, and hey, isn't that what it's all about?

If they ask "why should I bother reading this loser who updates his site maybe once every three weeks and writes about the same crap ever time?", acknowledge that they have asked a valid question. This is where my end of the bargain comes in. I fully admit that I do not update nearly enough to make it worth your while to check back in on a frequent basis - I know many of you who don't check the site for over a month and come back to find that you've only missed three posts - unacceptable! I vow that if I get a warm response to this request, the volume of my Ramblings will increase. You and your contacts can look forward to my thoughts on the following:

- The continuation of Tales from the Lost Semester - the first eleven volumes have set the stage with fun anecdotes about skipping class, heavy drug use, cheating, and using class time to express love for a band that I was really into for all of about 2.5 months. I can promise you that the next eleven volumes are more shocking, more entertaining and tremendously more pathetic, so be sure to tune in!

- Although my television watching has become much more laser focused, I promise to keep my finger on the pulse of all that sucks inside your idiot box. And I will make sure that you know exactly where I stand on the hard-hitting news that outlets such as Us Weekly and the Enquirer see fit to report.

- What's a blog without someone's views on current affairs and politics? An entertaining one! But that won't stop me from getting my digs in on my Hawkish friends as I spout my bleeding heart liberal messages in this narrowly-read forum. Oh, and I'll rip on liberals too.

- Since I've done so many great things in the past (see Tales from the Lost Semester), I will dig through the archives and provide you with Best Of snipets that will make you wish you had bought stock in me back in '99. Nowhere to go but up!

- My favorite targets will still remain squarely in my crosshairs, so here's fair warning to the advertising industry, obesity, the credit card industry, fast food companies, divorce/bankruptcy/injury lawyers, douchebags, liquor salesmen, realtors and other the other scourges of our society.

- Sports, sports and more sports! Will the White Sox repeat? Will, uh, well, I guess that's the only sports thing on my mind right now, but don't worry - I'll find a way to steal material from the Sports Guy and Deadspin.com!

- Top Five - yes, the Top Five will return in triumphant fashion, and you will learn everything from the Top Five Cereals to the Top Five People I Wish Had Gonhorrea.

So in conclusion...

...is there anybody out there?