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The Truth …as I see it.

By Old Dan Cedar - Posted on 07 July 2009

Which, of course, is how it actually is…

Michael Jackson — The King of Pop — had given us his best thrill.

Farrah Fawcett — The Queen of T and A — had given us her comeliest gaze.

David Carradine — The King of Kung Fu — had kunged his best fu.

Ed McMahon — The King of Banality — had… actually spent all of that money??? WTF???

Billy Mays — The King of Scream was, well… I’m sure he was a very nice fella.

It’s just a little hard to believe he was hypertensive…

You see how easy it is to get into? I am writing a critique on the cult of personality and yet, it’s fascinating — at some, moronic, inane level.

Our pop obsessed culture, once-again, reared its ugly head this past week.

The 24 hour news stations, once-again, had something to say.
Even if was the same thing over and over, again and again.

If one more person looks at me with those puppy dog peepers or posts on my Facebook page, “It’s so sad, RIP _________!!”
I will personally rip out one of my testicles with an old, rusty pair of pliers and summarily shove it down his overly sympathetic gullet.

Don’t worry — I’ve had my tetanus shot. I will be fine.

Our culture’s values are completely FUBAR!!

When people start posting their laments on Facebook regarding the nurse that held and soothed a laboring mother’s hand (until the obstetrician moseyed in to catch the baby and cash the check), or the coach of their kid’s Junior Varsity Foosball Team, or their hard working postman or their priest that helped them through a difficult time in life, - then we will at least be moving in the generally correct direction.

But as long as American Idol, Porn, Reality TV, Howard Stern, and People Magazine are top of mind — we will continue our pursuit of Pop Psychos of the Month — and that Log Cabin Republican imbecile Shepard Smith will be ready to shout, “Breaking News… this just in from Los Angeles!!!”


So, when the next Heath “Fiercely Intelligent” Ledger or Anna Nicole “Amply Befuddled” Smith interrupt your dull, bane existence…

…Make it a point to tell someone that REALLY matters — how much you appreciate them and that you hope they don’t overdose on Oxycontin or get Anal Cancer.

There is an American Idiot Genie trying to disseminate from the very core of every one of us.

But it’s up to each of us to try and get that Genie back in the bottle.
Here is to hoping that Ron Popeil has one more patent left in him.

Scratch that —

Here is to hoping that this website can reach a Critical Mass of Morons that find us quasi-engaging. If you can stand to get twice monthly updates of this electronic rag — email me.

As for selling your information to outsiders — IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!!

Just remember, I have more integrity in the entrails of my toe jam than you have in your entire genetic codification.

If you choose not to partake, no worries.
I still have one extra testicle hanging for you.
Open up, Buttercup!!

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Appearing at a press conference, that was ripe with double entendre, and fully heightened in four inch red, high heels, a black pleather mini-skirt and a white, ruffled, half-unbuttoned blouse – “Caribou Barbie” as some have dubbed her, came out with ordnance ablaze.