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Does this nut job hunt unsuspecting mammalia in between solos at his shows? I don't think he does. But then why the fuck is he wearing camo from head to toe at his concerts? Maybe he thinks a rogue fawn will wander through the lawn area over at the main stage and he can slap a scope on his Les Paul with AK-47 attachment and cream Bambi before he gets to the encore where the crowd is roaring for the sacrifice of a wild boar during the last chorus of High Enough.
When the Nuge isn't rockin' out and layin' meedly-meedlies down for the Redneck masses, he's likely to be filming some flavor of bullshit for reality TV. As if the entertainment landscape weren't already filled to the gunnels with right-wing psychopaths and tired reality show hacks, Uncle Ted gives you both in one convenient package.
From his star turn on VH1's Supergroup with grade-A dillweed Sebastian Bach among others, to his own vehicle Surviving Nugent, Teddy Boy manages to find a way to drop the level of programming even on a network dredging the bottom of the barrel like VH1. And while we're on the subject, how big of an asshole do you have to be when you're in a band with Sebastian Bach and you're the biggest asshole?
As if being a rock icon, TV star and super hunter weren't enough, Mr. Nugent is also quite the political spokesperson. This guy is a real diplomat, too. Take for instance a 2007 comment The Nuge made: “Obama, he’s a piece of shit. I told him to suck on my machine gun. Hey Hillary, You might want to ride one of these into the sunset, you worthless bitch.” And let's remember that Uncle Ted is Straight Edge, so there will be no pawning off those little tirades on too much tequila backstage. Suck on my machine gun, huh? Where do you come up with these?
Finally, let us never forget that Uncle Ted loves the little children and wants to make sure that even as babes in arms they are trained to protect themselves in the face of danger. Danger like, you know, a woodchuck that's loose on the back 40. Check out this video for an example of the Nugent Nursery School.
Nancy Grace is HLN's mouth that roars. From Casey Anthony to the Duke LaCrosse case, and Elizabeth Smart to Anna Nicole. Do you need a talking head that won't let facts get in the way? Then Nancy Grace is your gal.
If Bill O'Reilly had a vagina and a slightly smaller number of brain cells, it's likely you'd get Princess Nancy. Venom, shiny suits, accusations and frosted tips are the order of the day here. The validity of your point is only measured by the volume with which you make it.
Although the N in HLN is supposed to stand for News, Grace doesn't cotton to that old chestnut. In here eyes, the N stands for Namecalling. Rapist. Murderer. Killer. Criminal. News has nothing to do with her approach or her style. It's like a vendetta being played out on TV an hour at a time.
At age 48, Grace gave birth to twins two years ago. There's not anything inherently wrong with 48 year old women giving birth to children, it's just tough to imagine being a kid in that household. One has to believe that even Joan Crawford was a better mother than she's likely to be. Can you envision what it will be like the first time one of those kids gets in trouble at school? The child will immediately be convicted in the court of public opinion. Grace will load up her show with talking heads who "have been assured" of the child's culpability. One sided commentaries will run for weeks on end and eventually the poor kid be driven to go live somewhere in Illinois with Drew Peterson.
Garrison Keillor is not funny. Garrison Keillor cannot sing. Garrison Keillor cannot act. Garrison does not have an entertaining radio program. It seemed best to dispel certain widely held misconceptions before proceeding to the meat of this twig snap.
Having a folksy delivery by talking through your nose and personally knowing Allison Krauss should not be the merits on which one gets a nationally syndicated radio show.
Keillor gives a bad name to people who enjoy other public radio programming. Because this windblown boob is on every public radio frequency from here to kingdom come on Saturday nights does not mean that because someone enjoys a bit of All Things Considered or Fresh Air that they have to try "Powdered Milk Biscuit Mix" and pretend to think that the Guy Noir crap is funny or clever. It's neither.
Not every NPR listener sits in lonely wait by there Philco every Saturday night at 6:00 pm and is held at rapt attention while we get the "news" from a made up town in northern Minnesota. The best material on that insipid two hour extravaganza of dopiness is about Lutherans and jello salad. Neither of those things are funny, interesting or worth talking about at all. Stop it.
Mostly, if Garrison Keillor could learn only one thing from what we cover here today, HE SHOUD STOP SINGING. He is incapable of succeeding at this artform. A vague, toneless whisper from the bottom of onne's nose whilst breathing heavily is not singing. It's like asthma with misplaced musical notes. It's awful. Add to that his penchant for occasionally performing duets with the musical guest or singing along with a band that's there for the show. The more The Keel wheezes in semi-tune with professional musicians the more amateur hour he sounds? Kermit The Frog is really, not a very good singer, but when he sings the Rainbow Connection with just his banjo for accompaniment, he pulls it off pretty nicely. It's charming. Now, if Kermit tried to sing along with Del McCoury or The Old Crow Medicine Show he'd sound like an idiot. And you Mr. Keillor, are no Kermit The Frog.
It's not that Nic Cage isn't a decent actor. He can be. Sometimes, he's even quite good. Just watch Raising Arizona or Adaptation to be sure. Ah ah ah, hold it Buster. Before you jump over to your Netflix account and rearrange you queue, plop over to Cage's IMDB page and research the rest of this dude's body of work.
Is it really possible that someone who has appeared in over 60 feature films could really have to count National Treasure or Valley Girl as one of his crowning achievements? That appears to be the case here, folks. Look at the shit he's said yes to: 8MM, Trapped In Paradise, Bringing Out The Dead, Snake Eyes and Face Off. And that's just scratching the surface of this statue of cinematic dung.
You're thinking, "Hold on here man! This guy won an Oscar." Yep, he has. Somehow, the Academy managed to give him a statue for pushing a liquor-filled shopping cart down the aisle while wasted and he managed to "act" like he wanted to have sex with Elisabeth Shue. That is attention to craft isn't it?
This trouser smack is on its way fast and furious and once he's atoned for the slop that was already mentioned, he'll have to be punished in spades for Guarding Tess, It Could Happen To You and Amos & Andrew and a whole host of other trash he's cooked up in the last 25+ years. It's noble that he worked to keep it a secret that he's a member of the Coppola family, but he's the only one in the clan capable of making Sofia look like she's not the least talented actor in the bunch.
For further proof check out:
Best of Snake Eyes Video
Jimmy Buffett is a modern day renaissance man. He's a songwriter, entertainer, recording star, best selling author and successful restaurateur. He's also one of the most deserving cock punch recipients I can imagine.
Just because a person can claim to have done all of these things, and even jackaloped Joe and Jane six pack into forking over money for it doesn't mean you're a good songwriter. Nor does it make you a talented author. And, it should not be interpreted that anyone with a whit of self respect wants to eat Onion Six Strings and Chocolate Nachos at yer pie hole palace.
I don't know how you did it and you do deserve at least a bit of credit for pulling this hoax on a hefty portion of middle-aged white America. But, that won't let you off this hook matey. You are an amalgamation of the worst things in current American popular culture. If a goofy jack ass dropped out of the sky today into a puddle of pina coladas while he wrote songs shittier than Maroon 5 and authored books that made Dan Brown seem like Herman Melville we'd be aghast. But, then if he upped the ante and opened up a slew of quasi-Chili's locations with neon palm trees out front, we'd hang him up by his genitalia.
The American middle class may be gullible enough to slurp your sandal-stamped shit pile but you have more than earned a nut jab for every time some tool popped a quarter in a jukebox and sang along to Margaritavilla at the top of his out of tune, drunken yap trap.
At the risk of seeming like masters of the obvious, we give Dane Cook the full CP treatment. The reasons for Cook's crotch chop here are so apparent it would almost be like less work to try to find reasons not to include him. But, after several minutes of research it appears there is not one single, decent reason why he should be spared.
Why are you wearing sweat bands? Is that a new Swatch built out of terry cloth just for the Danester? While it's obvious that you must perspire a fair amount bouncing around in acid washed jeans mouth-humping your mic while you wax poetic about your most recent interlude at Burger King, Bruce Jenner era sweat bands aren't necessary. Christ, you could wear batting gloves and you would look less ridiculous.
Your reasons for wearing hunting camo t-shirts inside out must be myriad, but they're lost on me, dude. Maybe chicks dig it. Maybe Gander Mountain had some reject tees on sale when you stopped by last week. Either way, you look like an even larger tool than you already are.
Whispering isn't inherently funny. Neither is spouting the fake female falsetto you trot out on an all too regular basis. In fact, since you claim to be a comedian, perhaps you might want to work on writing some actual jokes. And if that is a bit too much work for you, at least make an attempt to tell stories that include some bit of humor and then try like hell to figure where they END. No, your stupid shit will not get funnier the longer you babble on about it.
It was dreadfully difficult to narrow it down to just one CP victim, but someone has to go first. And, that dubious honor has been bestowed upon Matthew McConaughey.
I know you loved him Dazed and Confused and you're just positive that performance alone should be enough to grant CP clemency. Well, it's not, friend. What sort of transgressions, you ask, could be great enough to warrant a CP even in the face of that "genius" sleaze-ball stoner role in the Richard Linklater classic?
First, stop making movies with Kate Hudson. Neither of you should be making movies at all and when the two of you get together and make a movie I am pretty sure that a film student somewhere contracts Leukemia.
Put on a fucking shirt. I get it, you're ripped. You're also wealthy enough from your paychecks on cinematics gems like Reign of Fire and U-571 to buy a damned Ed Hardy shirt or something to cover your rockin' abs. You're not Gwen Stefani. Now go get dressed.
Quit the bullshit, aww shucks, watch me hang with Woody Harrelson schtick. You are not the only no-talent dipshit who made it as a movie star. That fact is only enhanced when you hang with Harrelson. Stop behaving as though you, like all the rest of us, can't believe how you got here. No one with any degree of taste thinks you should be a movie star, but for God's sake you can try and act like one.
Lastly, get a decent haircut. It's not so hard, Matt. You walk in to your local barber shop or salon and sit down and let them cut your fucking Samson mane down so you don't look like an extra from Ringo Starr's Caveman. It only takes a few minutes and you can have it done the same day you go out to buy your new shirt. I know you're scared because the last time you got your hair cut was on the set of Reign of Fire and that just made you look like the dude from The Hills Have Eyes.
