Sunday, January 25, 2009

Rants and Raves

Whatever happened to Dennis Miller? Remember him?
Dennis Miller would just light into these rapid-fire monologues full of obscure political & historical references that the rest of us couldn’t possibly keep up with. And you don’t want to admit that you have no idea what the fuck this guy is carrying on about, do you? But come on, just between you and me…he made you feel kind of stupid, right?

And then he goes and does that weird thing where he decided to be a football announcer, a, what do you call it, a sportscaster, right?

Yeah, so now we all know he knows more about sports than we do, too.


Thanks, Dennis.

And the thing is, I really wanted to like Dennis Miller. I really did. Because he called his routines rants. And I love a good rant! Don’t you?

See, I think the rant is an under appreciated form of communication.

It is.

You get a good rant on, and people will stop whatever they’re doing and pay attention.
That’s true. Try it yourself.

Next time you’re standing there in the Quik Trip, waiting to pay for your gas, or your cigarettes, or your fountain drink, and some asshole is in front of you making the counter guy run him like 1000 lottery tickets?

Just go off on a rant about how fucking lottery tickets do not constitute a viable retirement plan, dumbass, and could you please hurry the fuck up, because some of us have jobs we have to get to, so we can pay the taxes that probably fund your whole brilliant, “winning the lottery” plan!
I promise you will have the undivided attention of every single person in the store. If you get going good enough, people will even come in from outside to see what the hell’s going on. Ranting is effective.

I don’t like it that people put ranting together with raving. Raving is what lunatics do.

See, that’s why I would never do that drug ecstasy.

Cause they call their parties raves, which makes me think of a bunch of crazy fuckers stumbling around, babbling incoherently, all in their own bizarre little worlds.

Kind of like the Republican convention.

I’ve never been to one, but I bet that’s what they’re like, right?

Yeah. That’s not my idea of a cool party at all.

When I was a kid, we had pot parties, remember? Slouched on a sofa in some guy’s parent’s basement, watching Beavis & Butthead, eating Doritos, and laughing that pot laugh.


I mean, what’s wrong with that?

You know what’s a weird kind of party? A keg party.

Think about it.

It’s kind of like a religious ritual, right? I mean, everyone gathers around this one object, the keg, and it’s the center of everything that’s happening.

It’s like this benevolent deity that that sacrifices its lifeblood to the followers of the party.
It’s kind of like going to church!

You get it all: rejoicing, dancing, hollering, enlightenment, weeping, regret, remorse….redemption!

Sometimes, small groups will leave the keg party briefly to go get more people and bring them to the party. Missionaries!

A religion based on beer is something I could really get into. And you’d never have to miss a football game to go to church.

Because in a beer religion, football would be considered sacred, I think. So watching the game would be like the equivalent of watching those televangelists. Right? Only you wouldn’t have to send money, you’d just give at the liquor store.

Don’t forget to pick up some lottery tickets while you’re there.

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