The Rants of Mister P

I saw "The Passion of The Christ" tonight. The book was better.

Draft Steve Jobs for Disney

Tragedy



What are you supposed to do when your TiVo remote breaks?! It's not the batteries, it's not the receiver on the box, the remote simply doesn't work anymore! There are some basic buttons on the front of the TiVo unit itself I can use to change channels and record shows, but I can't pause, fast forward or rewind.

Oh, the humanity.

UPDATE: 40 minutes after I posted my sob story, Mike called to tell me he would loan me his spare TiVo remote. (He had similar problems and ordered an extra from TiVo.) The internet is an amazing thing. And Mike is an amazing thing as well. Gracias!

It seems that I may be Jon Cryer after all. (scroll down to Feb. 11 for the story thus far)

Pat tells me that the other day he saw a Jon Cryer look-alike in the Starbucks in our building. It apparently was someone who looked a lot like Jon Cryer, but wasn't actually him. I didn't do a lot of direct staring in the elevator when I thought I saw him, so maybe it was the look-alike I saw. Or maybe Pat really did see Jon Cryer, and only thought it was a look-alike.

Or maybe, I am still Jon Cryer.

I'm not sure if this is an example of what is wrong with the internet, or if it is an example of what is right with the internet. Perhaps it simply "is":

http://www.gaypenguinforamerica.com/

My mother is in town and asked if I had a radio in my home. I don't, but I showed her thew music channels on DirecTV. I brought up the on-screen guide and pointed out the stations with Bluegrrass, Country, Classics, Showtunes... she says "Showtunes". We put it on, and it's playing Springtime for Hitler.

I think that's kind of funny.

The Cryer Game

First I thought I was Jon Cryer. I lamented that I wasn't Charlie Sheen. Then I thought I was Charlie Sheen, only to be told I wasn't. Well, a funny thing happened today which sheds some light on the situation. On my way home from work, I got into the elevator and who was inside but none other than Jon Cryer. If I was in the elevator WITH Jon Cryer, then it would be impossible for me to BE Jon Cryer.

Therefore, I must be Charlie Sheen. Ha.

Everybody, this is Steve. Steve, this is everybody. Mister P.'s wit and insights have inspired Steve to start up a blog of his own (that along with all of the peer-pressure at work.) Visit, say hello.

The Hamburglar

I'm tired of hearing about the beatles this week. (lowercase "b" as an intentional sign of disrespect.) Yes, I understand that a while ago they did a little TV thing, but is it really front page news FORTY YEARS LATER? For an entire week? In 2044, there had better be a bunch of articles about Janet Jackson in the Lunar Times.

I am Charlie Sheen



Ha!

Six weeks ago I lamented that I was Jon Cryer and not Charlie Sheen. (Refresh your memory here.) Well, tonight's episode of Two and a Half Men proves that I am Charlie Sheen after all. Charlie is having financial trouble, and brother Alan (Jon Cryer) is telling him he needs to get rid of his satellite TV.

Watch Mister P.'s Clip of the Week (360k, QuickTime)

For a while I did in fact have both satellite and cable TV service, but it finally just got too expensive.

Superbore

For the first time that I can remember, the Game was actually more interesting than the commercials. I'm very disappointed in Madison Avenue this year.

The two dumbest ads, simply because they make no logical sense:

Shards-o-glass, by the anti-smoking terrorists at "The Truth". The commercial is misleading because although smoking is bad for you in the long run, it can give short-term pleasure. Eating shards of broken glass has no pleasure. If they wanted to do an accurate analogy, why not show a bunch of bikini models running in the sun warning about skin cancer?

Sierra Mist, bagpipe player. This sweaty Scottsman supposedly is getting refreshed by standing over a street vent and getting wind up his skirt. Have you ever walked over a sidewalk vent? It ain't cold. That smoke coming up is steam. Steam is hot. Drinking Sierra Mist is like steaming your privates? No thanks.

It's sappy and sentimental, but one of my favorite Superbowl commercials of all time is the Budweiser "Respect" ad that aired after 9/11. It still chokes me up.