Moving (Again)
“People are Idiots” is moving again. Sorta. I decided to make the blog my homepage since I really wasn’t adding mini blogs the way I’d hoped. But rather than force everybody to update their links and bookmarks, I’ve decided to keep the old one put as somewhat of a mirror.
If you decide to continue reading the blog in the old location, the only differences will be that the Blogger comments will be closed and the comment link will take you to the homepage’s posts where the comments will be displayed. Also, I may not add all the mini blogs to the old location. You can find those in the keyword category link, “Mini Blogs.”
The new location has some options I think are pretty cool. For one thing, there’s a “recent comments” module where you can see some of the latest comments, even if they’re for older posts. You can also subscribe to the feed for all comments or subscribe just to individual post comments so you can track replies to your words of wisdom from your news reader (fear not, I’ve imported all the old posts and comments so they’re still available).
Read it in the old location, read it in the new location. It really doesn’t matter. But thanks for reading it wherever you do.
New permanent home for “People are Idiots”: www.jenee.net
Oops!
Ok, I accidentally linked the MySpace page to my own site out of habit. My MySpace address is www.myspace.com/comedianjenee .
Since this topic is lingering, I’ll mention another email Bea just received:
Subject: Hi Beatrice
Message: Hi how are you iam S***** v*** I think you rock on the show because you are a Taurus like me Iam from Colorado and 16 you aree my favorite character.
goodbye S**** V***
I checked out her page, thinking this had to be a prankster. Within three seconds I was sure I was right because it was the classic mockery of a teenage girl’s site: sparkly things bouncing all over the background, Mariah Carey theme song, enormous pictures of parents, school friends and Kelly Clarkson. Just the type of site I can only view for 20 seconds before before my poor laptop starts having a conniption fit. Her inclusion of Green Day as a favorite band showed she has great taste, but it also seemed like it was a deliberate joke toward me.
Then I noticed her comments date back several days so this was obviously done before I published Bea’s site. Since a teenage girl’s site is inherently comical, I really wasn’t sure if it was legit. I accepted her friend invite and was about to leave a comment on her site when I realized that if this really is a teenager girl, she is way too naiive and probably shouldn’t have Bea’s picture with the little blurbs on her page. I deleted her from Bea’s list then went to see if that also deleted Bea from her list but her profile’s private, visible only to friends. So now I’m convinced this really is a teenage girl who apparently thinks she found the real Bea Arthur on MySpace and that Bea hangs with a lot of rappers. Now I kinda wish I’d kept her on my list so I can follow her for a while. I have a strong suspicion she’s going to be knocked up within a year by a guy who tells her, “We don’t need condoms. You can’t get pregnant until the 50th time. You can trust me. I’m a senator.”
The Real MySpace Page
So I had a little fun with the MySpace page. Sadly I’ve come to realize my niche in comedy is in fake profiles. Not a whole lot of money to be made there. While I did it strictly for amusement, I encountered a few situations that are appropriate fodder for this blog.
As I discovered the first time I tried MySpace (Just “1 Friends” On MySpace), pretty much anybody will accept a stranger as a friend so the tally means nothing. Actually, when you’re Bea Arthur, you only have to add a few friends and then the invites start pouring in. There were a few interesting email exchanges I thought I’d share.
Invitee: Who are you and how do you know me? I don’t add people i don’t know
(Clearly, this is a discriminating MySpace user).
Bea: I’m Bea Arthur from tv’s “Golden Girls.”
Invitee: Right. I’m sure Bea Arthur has a myspace account and adds random black men to her friends list. Seriously, how do you know me? And If you don’t know me, why do you want to be my friend? I only accept the top applicants.
He only accepts the “top applicants?” The guy’s page features two full screen pictures of a girl’s butt in a g-string. Bea Arthur’s ass may not look as great, but she’s certainly worthy of a lousy MySpace add. Fortunately for Bea, he must have temporarily relaxed his “applicant” standards and didn’t even wait for a reply before adding Bea as a friend.
The next email in Bea’s inbox was from a girl who wrote:
Girl: I see youre promoting my man on your top 8….I always love to see people helpin him out…. ;-) thx
Bea’s not the type to admit that the only qualification for making her top 8 list is to have a picture that gives the impression you’ve killed a person at some point. Well, actually, with Roc-Rok, it’s kinda hard to tell but she qualified via her other assets.
Then the girl sent another email and this was the exchange:
Girl: So who are you really?
Bea: I’m Bea Arthur from tv’s “Golden Girls.”
Girl: Does someone do your page for you….cuz I see you know a lot of the same people I do and theyre all from out this way…
I think we actually hooked one here. I guess she doesn’t realize the similar friends are a result of Bea poaching a few rappers’ friends lists.
Bea: I know most of them from the clubs. Even at my age, I still like to shake it.
No response this time so maybe she caught on.
Here’s the final exchange:
Random person Bea didn’t invite: Whats up momma….I was just wonderin who dis really is…???
Bea: I’m Bea Arthur from tv’s “Golden Girls.”
Random person: It seems like youre someone else and I see you know my boy **** how do you know so many rappers?
He thinks it seems like it’s someone else but he doesn’t want to go out on a limb and risk offending what could be the real Bea Arthur by calling her a fraud.
Bea: The question is, how do so many rappers know Bea Arthur? Some would say I’m an American icon.
I guess that answered his question because he didn’t respond.
While being Bea was much more fun, I do have a real site that I finally got involved with. Right now most of the people on my list are actual friends with a couple of obvious jokes thrown in. It’s interesting to go through comics’ pages and realize we all know the same people, which makes it even weirder when I keep seeing the same person’s picture on various pages and I don’t know him or her. It makes me feel out of the loop. The drawback to having all comics on my friends page is that it’s counterproductive to my purpose of drawing in more traffic. Comics are too wrapped up in their own hilarious endeavors to support each other’s. I guess I’ll either have to leave some great comments on their pages and hope to draw in some of their fans or I’ll have to get started on a June Cleaver page. There’s something about old white ladies belonging to groups like, “Bitch buy me some Kool-Aid!” that really draws people in.
My real honest-to-goodness MySpace page (well, it’s as real as I can bear to make it). Add me to your friends list. I’ll accept even if you aren’t one of the “top applicants.”
MySpace- Thank You For Being A Friend
As promised, I’ve thrown myself into the MySpace mix with guns blazing. I was really surprised how many of my close friends had MySpace pages and how many groups there are that cater to my very specific interests. I hope you’ll check out my page and let me know what you think. I guess I should mention that the MySpace picture is a little more current than the photo on this site so it may come as a surprise to some of the regular readers:
Premature Jacked Elation
I had zero interest in the Olympic games until I heard about the gold medal peformance for stupidity. This newest entry to the “Agony of Defeat” reel occurred during the women’s snowboard cross finals. It plays out like a laughably unrealistic scene from a bad movie:
The race begins with four women vying for the three medals. At least they tell us those are women tearing down the mountain at warp speed but it’s hard to tell with the baggy clothes and helmets. Actually, even without the helmets it’s kind of hard to tell if some of them are really women.
About 10 seconds into the race, one contender literally flies off the screen into no man’s land and she’s never mentioned again. Moments later another boarder suddenly bounces off the course, taking out a huge protective net and the Syrian luge team with her. Conspiracy theories abound.
Two competitors are left. American Lindsey Jacobellis is so far ahead she’s in a 
different time zone and gets a bit cocky. I’m not exactly sure what happens next, maybe she’s text messaging “GOLD4USA!!” or maybe she’s enjoying an early victory bong hit. All I know for certain is that in an instant of stupidity, she’s tumbling in powder and the band cuts short its overhasty strains of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Lindsey manages to get back up quickly- just in time to see Switzerland’s Tanja Frieden cruise by at a snail’s pace and capture the gold. Apparently it’s not speed that wins the women’s snowboard cross finals, it’s a little self control.
An unbelievable display. A lifetime of hard work and sacrifices came down to one moment of grandstanding and a silver medal (I believe a Bosnian onlooker with a piece of plywood jumped in to take the bronze).
Lindsey Jacobellis blew her big shot. She’ll now embark on the endless talk show circuit where her actions will be analyzed and criticized and memorialized. She will become a household name and a permanent footnote in Olympic history. She will be the face of the slacker snowboarder. Meanwhile, the chick from Switzerland whose name I’ve already forgotten will have the gold.
On second thought, it was quite possibly the most brilliant stunt in Olympic history.
Game Over
All good things must come to an end and so it is with my reign as queen of the blogjackers. Apparently the folks at Blogger finally got their acts together and fixed the recently updated list. Damn competence burns me again! And I think I was finally getting close to that coveted death threat after my last post. So once again, this blog will just be me talking to myself. Actually, I have to say that while my three links on Blogger’s Dashboard did bring in a lot of traffic, it was nowhere near the kind of numbers you’d expect from such high profile listings.
I never really cared much about the amount of traffic I had prior to the windfall, but now that I’ve wasted time shamelessly cluttering the site with stupid ads, I feel I need to justify the wasted time by figuring out how to get new click happy folks to my blog (I might as well admit the Mesothelioma post was both a challenge and a joke. Check out this to understand why people’s explanation of it were counterproductive to my purpose. I ain’t stupid). I think I might even turn to whoring myself on (ugh) MySpace. So you can probably expect a lot more changes to the site in the near future.
For the most part, I write this blog for me. But at the same time, I like that it sort of keeps me in touch with the few family members who read it. And, of course, it’s rewarding when people who stumble upon it find it entertaining and/or interesting. As I mentioned in a previous post, this blog has renewed my long-lost interest in writing and I really appreciate those who have showed continued support for this endeavor. I probably won’t discover another nefarious way to bring mass visitors to my site but I do hope to provide the occasional worthwhile post to keep the current regulars coming back.
Online Dating Fiasco
I have to confess, I did something really stupid. I figured I’d give online dating a shot and decided to sign up at Match.com. I paid my non-refundable membership fees and waited for the emails to pour in. Apparently I didn’t read the fine print and it turns out I signed up at misMatch.com. I don’t want my money to go to waste so I’ve decided to make the best of it. Below are the profiles they sent me. Let me know if you think any would suit me.
Bachelor #1
Bachelor #2
Bachelor #3
Wise Guy’s Wise Move
Authorities in Florida are trying to determine whether or not actor Joe Pesci should be charged with misdemeanor battery for punching a fan. According to the 24-year-old “victim’s” own testimony:
After encountering Pesci, 62, he shook the actor’s hand and told him he was a big fan. He then purchased a camera, walked toward Pesci and asked for a picture, but the actor refused, he said.
He kept asking to take a picture, and when Pesci turned, he took the photograph. Pesci then punched him with his right fist, the report said.
Good for Pesci!
Taking someone’s picture is by no means deserving of a right hook but being an asshole is. Why did he even bother to ask Pesci if he was going to do it anyway? And why was it so necessary for him to take that picture? I’m sure there are plenty of pictures of Joe Pesci available on the Internet and I can’t imagine he needed it as proof for his friends. Just like in the Robbie Knievel situation, there’s no reason to think someone’s lying when they claim to have met Joe Pesci.
It must be sweet to be in Pesci’s position. What’s the worst that can happen as a result of his actions? They can slap him with a fine he can pay without even flinching. Or they could send him to jail for a few days, which might actually be fun for him. Everybody loves Joe Pesci- nobody’s gonna hassle him in the slammer.
While I’ve frequently expressed my support for The Golden Rule, I’m also a strong proponent of The Golden Rule’s follow-up policy: Payback Is A Bitch. I can only fantasize about some of the retaliatory measures I’d take if I didn’t have to worry about the consequences:
Ah, to dream…
Calling Out Idiots
There seems to be some confusion as to the nature of this blog. It’s called “People are Idiots” because I primarily discuss the idiotic behaviors I encounter on a regular basis. But judging by a few of the comments to my posts, some people seem to think this blog is “People for Idiots,” like it’s some sort of group that supports idiots. While I would be happy to accept any donations on behalf of Jessica Simpson, Anna Nicole Smith and George Bush, they won’t receive the money and sending such a donation will only add you to their ranks.
I appreciate people taking the time to leave their comments, I really do, so I think I should clear up some things. The first being that I am not an idiot. Sure, I have my moments but they’re far enough apart for me to not qualify as being an idiot. If I say something in my blog that seems totally absurd or if a solution is painfully obvious, trust me, I know about it. Sometimes I take a little poetic or comedic license when I write. Including a bunch of disclaimers or explanations would take away what little humor I have to offer. That’s not to say that I never get things wrong, just that if the average moron on the street knows what’s correct, then I do too. Ask if you’re not sure.
If I claim ignorance on a topic like, oh, say, Mesothelioma, it’s not because I don’t know how to learn more about it. I’m sure that the 20 or so people who offered explanations of Mesothelioma through comments were trying to be helpful. But since the mere mention of the word caused a dozen or so “Learn More About Mesothelioma” ads to pop up on that page, I wasn’t lacking for convenient, expert resources- even if I wasn’t already well versed in the workings of a Google search. Then again, maybe the comments weren’t attempts at being helpful but rather a “screw you” to me after I said I didn’t want to know more about it.
That all said, I’ve deleted most of the recent offenders to save some embarrassment but from now on, I’m calling people out. If someone wants to point out the obvious, I’m going to respond with the simplest, yet most effective retort ever: “Duh.” Now, I don’t want to scare people away from leaving comments, so I’ve added a little “Duh” semi-immunity: I’ll limit my abuse toward those who use the simplest, yet most effective excuse ever: “I was drunk.” Just preface your comment with ***DRUNK COMMENT*** and I’ll cut you some slack. Notice I said “some” slack because there are certain levels of idiocy that go beyond mere drunkenness.
Rock On Granny
My mom wants to create a “Where’s Waldo” book for my nephew by scanning an actual Waldo page then digitally superimposing my nephew as Waldo. But she’s concerned she could get in trouble for copyright infringement. While I respect the high moralities of my parents, they’re both retired now and I say it’s time to live on the edge a little bit and finally throw caution to the wind: light up a doobie, give a cop the finger, go to a swingers party, get arrested, tell their younger daughter to “fuck off.” You know, do all the things they’ve probably always wanted to do.
When you reach a point in life where your actions can’t really screw your future, why play by the rules? Once you’re in your 60′s there’s no reason a game of “I Never” shouldn’t have you wasted before it’s even your turn. Then when it is your turn, you should be so stumped that you have to get really specific: “I never bungee jumped naked. No wait. I never bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate bridge. No wait. I never bungee jumped naked off the Golden Gate Bridge while an anti-war march was taking place… in the last decade.” Someone with really fun friends, might even notice one or two take a swig.
If you’re retired and you set an alarm clock in the morning or if you care even the slightest what your credit rating is, you need to hit an after hours rave and shoot up a little heroin with a former child star. Even if you don’t have a great time, at least you’ll have something more exciting than grandkids and HMO’s to talk about at your next dinner party.
(Speaking of Waldo and all kinds of copyright infringements, shortly after Bush ambushed Iraq, I created a “Where’s Saddam?” game. It’s a bit out of date and the quality isn’t great but some games just take you back).
Mesothelioma Huh?
I saw four commercials last night for Mesothelioma as I do just about every time I watch more than 15 minutes of live tv after midnight. I don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that there are so many attorneys hawking ads for Mesothelioma or the fact that I still haven’t got the slightest idea what it is. Is it an ailment like cancer or a substance like asbestos? Or is it just a very big word meaning “tiny pecker?”
The way the lawyers salivate over it, I’m inclined to believe it’s some sort of Vegas affliction and the responsible parties are the smoking, gambling AND drug industries. With little private jets in their eyes, the suits urge me to call but for some reason, they’re very cryptic. If they’d just give some sort of hint to what Mesothelioma is, maybe they’d find a few more victims who want to earn pennies to their class-action dollars.
I know I could have easily done a search for Mesothelioma in the time it took me to write this. But with my luck, in the process of searching, I’d discover I have all the symptoms for something like Maxothelioma, Mesothelioma’s more-scarring-yet-less-profitable big brother. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
