Get Overheated With Your Morons of the Week
We've been hit with a cold front, and if you're like Riptide, your office is about as cozy as a gulag right now. But that's OK, because this week's batch of morons has a MWQ (Moronic Wattage Quotient) powerful enough to heat a three-story building. Throw on a Christmas sweater and rub your hands in front of your computer screen. Let these burning embers of regional stupidity roast your chestnuts.
In the throes of Art Basel, our tolerance for overpriced and over-pretentious art is forced through the roof. Wander around that overwhelming convention center for long enough and you begin to find yourself agreeing that human feces smeared on a framed welfare check is an artistic innovation worth $275,000. (No, that's not something we actually saw; we just made it up, and if it's in next year's fair we want $137,500.)
But now that Eva and Adele and the rest of the unbearable-but-for-five-days-a-year art horde have gone back to gentrifying poor people out of some new nether region of New York City, we've gotten our senses back. And we remembered to say:
Pharrell, your tank chair sucks.
And we would never spend any of our millions on it because then you'd use our money to go buy an iced-out Kid Robot medallion or something, and the guy that owns Kid Robot would in return by a shitty tank chair, and that's not a cycle we want to be a part of. It's the same reason we don't give bums money to buy crack.
Yes, Sylvester Stallone was selling some questionable shit at Art Basel, and he certainly did not get to that grand stage on the merits of his artistic sensibilities. But he made Rocky, dude. You're working on a Lindsay Lohan album.
4. The Guy Who Crashed Into a Building and then Punched a Firefighter
This is the most befuddling news story we've ever encountered:
A driver lost control of his car, crashed into a Miami building and then punched a firefighter trying to treat him on Wednesday morning, fire officials said.
That is, literally, all the information we're getting. What's the explanation? Was he Ambien-tripping? Had he turned green and exploded off all his clothing except some torn jorts? Was he Rush Limbaugh? Our moron-meter is beeping like mad but we just can't get to the bottom of this one.
We can't even get a name. Throw him into the Cyber-Tomb of the Unknown Moron.
|Jerome Nelson and Glen Pile|
Who says Miami doesn't export anything? Sure, we horde most morons for ourselves, but we remain the nation's leading provider.
Guys, if your Muppet-looking faces didn't arouse the cashier's suspicions, the simple fact that you were trying to spend a hundred dollar bill at Wal-Mart did. Next time, go to Whole Foods.
2. Whoever wrote this Miami Herald Guide to Committing Adultery
The writer(s) behind "Adultery 101" -- the guide to succesful cheating designed to jump on the Tiger Woods bandwagon -- hid their byline in shame, so they'll have to share the cyber-tomb with #4.
When they got to the part about the "booty phone", the reader could practically smell the emanating fumes of terror at the use of a naughty word. Herald, you're not built for this sort of thing. Leave the crass and ill-advised stabs at juvenile humor to us.
Oops. The reggae singer penned ballads about blowing the heads off homosexuals with a shotgun, was once charged with participating in a mob attack on a group of gay men, and recently stood by his stance that "there is no end to the war between me and faggot."
Now, if convicted of trying to buy more than five kilos of cocaine from an undercover officer, Buju could spend many years with some fellows who have a much more open-minded, if just as violent, perspective on hot man-on-man action. Karma's a bitch.