Sarah Louise Heath Palin:
Hockey mom? Check. ✔
Pitbull with lipstick? Check. ✔
Failed Vice Presidential candidate? Double Check. ✔✔
Moose aficionado? Check. ✔
Maverick? Check. ✔
Connoisseur of the English language? Check. ✔
It seems that Sarah Barracuda is once again putting that good old “Washington outsider’s” charm on the English language. That’s right. After educating the public on the literary techniques of satire*, she who has quit-eth thee governorship-eth of Alaska-eth is now engaging the American public in a lively discussion on the works of William Shakespeare. Inspired by the “Bard of Avon,” Palin invented a word while on The Sean Hannity Show on Fox last week (but not before referring to President Obama as “half black or half white,” during their race-based discussion).
Propagating her usual propaganda on the imaginary news network
Commentating on yet another issue she has no clue about
Speaking against a resolution to condemn extremist elements within the Tea Party by the NAACP, she who can see-eth Russia from her house-eth suggested that President Obama and the First Lady “refudiate” the accusations made towards said group. (I’m sorry, I’m still on the beginning levels of the Rosetta Stone language-learning software for Palinese; I can’t quite yet translate this word into moronspeak.)
Behold, REFUDIATE. From the Oxford English Dictionary’s list of newest entries and also from the Latin “stupidus bitchus.”
re·fu·di·ate: (rĭ-fyōō’dē-āt’)
tr.v. re·pu·di·at·ed , re·pu·di·at·ing , re·pu·di·ates
1. a. To refuse to repudiate an object or an idea – esp. one that relates to race. b. To refute a repudiation of an object or an idea – esp. one that relates to race. e.g. “They could refudiate what it is that this group is saying” – Sarah Palin
2. To refute an eradiation or eradiations. e.g. Scientist: “Mrs. Palin, you really shouldn’t shine that laser pointer directly into your eyes. The radiation will damage your retinas.” Sarah Palin: “Nonsense. Jesus refudiates your stupid theories of radiation. Lasers are like crayons Jesus’ dad gave to Adam and Eve to draw pretty colors onto the air. Wow, now look at all the dark floating spots I see.”
Now, if that doesn’t help us understand what the fuck this twit means (as is always the case), perhaps analyzing her use of the word in a recent tweet, (where she offered her thoughts on the Mosque at Ground Zero controversy), will further help to determine the semantic content of this contemporary unit of language.
But immediately after learing of her mistake from someone who actually read a newspaper or blog that day, Palin went to work on correcting one of her greatest faux pas to date, and responded via Twitter by saying:
Once again, I think I’m gonna go with Palin on this one, since she has a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications-Journalism and with her latest poignant articulations has proven her skill in the language of Shakespeare. Iambic pentameter, couplets, double entendres, soliloquies, sonnets. If there is anyone in the 21st century who is an expert on the Shakespearean conceit, it’s Sarah Palin.
Why?
- Because she learned about it at Hawaii Pacific University in the Fall 1982,
- as well as at North Idaho College during the Spring and Fall of 1983,
- . . .then again at the University of Idaho from the Fall of 1984 to the Spring of 1985,
- and also at Matanuska-Susitna College in the Fall of 1985,
- FINALLY mastering her skills and graduating from the University of Idaho after returning for the Spring and Fall in 1986 and the Spring of 1987
(In case you missed it—and contrary to popular belief—Sarah Palin also somehow managed to fit in a minor in political science somewhere in her mavericky journey to educate herself.)
Ms. Palin is truly the most influential wordsmith of this generation. She’s the greatest writer since Homer Simpson. She’s inspiring thousands in the twitterverse to re-write their favorite Shakespearean quotes à la Palin. Behold, @shakespalin!
“To read or not to read, um, all of them, any of them that have been in front of me over the years. . .as Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America, where–where do they go? That is the question.”
The Bard of Wasilla? Check. ✔ 
*see Rahmbo: Rated-R for more details.
Nothing you do in New York is ever cheap.
Watching a movie in this city definitely doesn’t cost you as much as an arm and a leg, but I’d say maybe somewhere around a finger. Or a tooth. Especially these recent 3D movies. Fuck me, dude. It’s almost $20 a roll for these three-dimensional so-called “blockbusters.” And for that price, it should be ILLEGAL for any one of them to suck. It should be one of those things that’s a guaranteed hit. For that price, M. Night Shyamalan should have watched the movie with me (or on second thought, maybe not). But I should’ve at least been given temporary air bending powers or something for that price. Now I just feel cheated.
I’m not a movie critic or anything; I didn’t study film in school or get whatever kind of certification one needs to become a professional film critic, and I’m not pursuing a career as a future anything in the movie industry, so I am well aware that I’m not as qualified to assess a movie as, say this guy is, but I believe that I am in the possession of a couple of things which do enhance my credentials.
I HAVE EYES.
Yeah, I have two of them, and I have a brain to supplement what my eyes see. There.
Not that it’s enough to just have eyes, but for M. Night Shyamalan’s latest flop work, The Last Airbender, having the gift of sight proves to be a liability. Between the excessive use of intertitles to indicate locations such as the “Northern Water Nation,” “Southern Fire Nation, Colony 15,” then back to the “Southern Water Nation,” (but not before a brief visit to “40.851587,-73.915407 Earth Nation”) and the uselessness of the 3D glasses (which without any three-dimensional elements only gave the perspective of watching the movie from behind the tinted windows of a car), the eyes quickly become irritated. I’m surprised there were no intertitles for “trees,” or “the last airbender” whenever he showed up on screen. Shyamalan should have used this excess to help the audience keep track of the film’s running time. “45 minutes have lapsed” since this disaster began, and “15 minutes of torture remaining” on screen would’ve been much more appreciated.
It’s a liability for sure, but nothing proves deadlier than the ability to hear the dialogue throughout this film. Shyamalan, being the writer, is also responsible for the film’s atrocious script. As many have already duly noted, in the role of Katara, the last remaining waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe, Nicola Peltz (whose lackluster performance is only trumped by Seychelle Gabriel as Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe) delivers a line that epitomizes the mediocre exchanges between characters. Speaking to her brother Sokka, (played by that guy nobody remembers from Twilight, Jackson Rathbone), who is cynical about winning the war against the evil Fire Nation lead by Lord Ozai (a guy you sorta remember from movies such as Live Free or Die Hard and the award-winning 10,000 B.C., Cliff Curtis) Katara responds by saying “we need to show them that we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in their beliefs.” (: : Ouch : : I immediately began displaying symptoms of arthritis from all the contagious stiff movements.) Really? But what if they don’t believe that you believe in your beliefs as much as they believe in their beliefs? Will they be moved by the power of failed elocution?
Based on the animation series of almost the same name, Avatar: The Last Airbender, it is obvious why M. Night Shyamalan disassociated his latest project from what quickly became the biggest selling movie of all time. The comparisons to James Cameron’s Avatar would be career-ending. I couldn’t handle them either; not if I were trying to get away with selling my Payless shoes in the wake of Christian Louboutin’s newest collection. . . and especially with an unconvincing performance by the title character himself, the avatar, (Noah Ringer) a.k.a. the last airbender. I can’t pick on him too much, he is just a kid, and hopefully Hollywood will overlook this little smudge in his filmography. But it’s difficult not to point out Mr. Ringer’s failed attempt to bring this character to life, particularly considering Jaden Smith & Co.’s impressive debut in The Karate Kid, which hit theaters earlier this summer.
My only suggestion, beginning with writer/producer/director M. Night Shyamalan, as well as to Mr. Ringer and cast, is that they actually WATCH THE SHOW before they participate in its on-screen adaption.
There are no spoiler alerts here, only disappointment alerts.
True Life, a documentary series on the Music Televison MTV network, claims to offer “a window into the struggles, hopes, and dreams of young people.” Clearly the summary on it’s official website hasn’t been updated since the program’s début back in 1998, because this show sucks. It blows harder than Paris Hilton. Not that this should come as a surprise or disappointment, or anything of that sort, (after all it is on the same channel that gave us shows like these). I haven’t actually watched an episode in the longest time. Then again, the last time I was young enough to get away with watching something on MTV was the Chinese year of the rabbit. But still.
What happened?
The series began by documenting the struggle of heroin addicts and family members of those who died by overdosing, and included an episode focusing on the death of Matthew Shepard, all within the first season. It has also given us classic moments like this one, from “True Life: I’m Getting Married,” which is my absolute favorite. Then suddenly the new millenium hit us, and we got “True Life: I’m Horny in Miami.” (As opposed to. . .what, being horny in Tulsa, where the goals are radically different?) Though having not been an avid or remotely consistent viewer of the show, and recognizing the great possibly for error, it seems that ever since then there’s a 50% chance the forthcoming episode will suck. You either come across “True Life: I Have An Eating Disorder,” or “True Life: I’m On Vacation.” Every time I’ve come across this show, its subject is something ridiculous like “True Life: I’m Wasted,” or “True Life: I Have Embarrassing Parents 2.” ( I can’t imagine what they would’ve possibly left out from the first one).
I’m not saying that I have a stick so far up my ass that all I’d like to see on TV is this serious, informative programming. Nor am I unwilling to admit that even this will not stop from me watching these kinds of shows (I’m a sucker for reality TV hot-messery! It all started with The Slap Heard ‘Round the World). Yes, sometimes we definitely need a break, or a distraction from all the depressing shit we learn is going on in the world, and these shows are good for that. But, watching “True Life: I Stutter,” and “True Life: I Overslept” (OK, so the latter is made up but is still not too far from reality. . .) is not going to do that. It only puts me in danger of killing brain cells. 
Not every bullshit moment in life needs to be documented and least of all, broadcast on national fucking television. If the last couple of seasons are truly supposed to be indicative of the struggles young people face today, we are all seriously fucked. Not that we’re not all fucked in some way now. Maybe we’re screwed now, but in the future when all the youth of America are out in the real world, we’ll definitely be fucked. Especially if the height of their ethical dilemmas concern summer romances, and “digital drama” (as have been the subjects of previous episodes). It’s pretty obvious, based on the titles of each show, that those involved with the making of True Life are quickly running out of topics to document. So here are a few suggestions for future seasons that are just as m i n d-n u m b i n g l y s t u p i d as the ones they’ve shown on TV.
We begin with “True Life: I’m Living With Gingivitis,” where we meet Britney, a sophomore in college who is diagnosed with advanced gum disease due to a prolonged, neglected case of gingivitis. Watch as the cameras follow Britney to a visit with the dentist, who gives her a professional cleaning and reverses the damage caused to her gums. (With a special appearance by fellow yuckmouth Jessica Simpson). 
Next, in “True Life: I’m Getting A Twitter,” we watch the powerful journey of Eric, a 16-year old from Pasadena, CA as he enters into the twitterverse. Will his parents accept him now that he’s a twat (that is, someone who twitters, of course)? What will his first tweet be? Is he going to have more followers than Jesus Ashton Kutcher? : : Cue cheesy dramatic / inspirational music here: : 
Finally, we end the season with “True Life: I’m Next in Line At Starbucks,” where John is trying to score with a female friend, Jenna, by impressing her at Starbucks but can’t remember the details of her order. Did she want a grande, 2 pump vanilla, non-fat, extra hot latte or was it a 5 shot venti, 2/5th decaf, ristretto shot breve with whip, caramel drizzle on top, free poured, 4 pump mocha?! The pompous asshole in front of him has just paid for his holy Ethos Water and scone and now it’s John turn to ask for his date’s highly overpriced drink. The barista is looking at him, the blenders are waiting, the milk is foaming, but will he like totally recover from this memory block and introduce her to something from their secret menu, or end up with the poor man’s latte? Stay tuned for the next episode of this Emmy Award winning series. It’s powerful. It’s real. Unfortunately, this is true life.
(Don’t forget to catch “True Life: I Have Dandruff” on MTV. Check your local listings.)
So I bought this “Avatar” skin cream at a Sammy Sosa beauty supply store. . .
So apparently, Dora the Explorer has become the face of the current immigration debate. Something about the “ambiguous” nature of her U.S. citizenship. That’s right, a fictitious character from an animated children’s TV show where the plot centers around the aforementioned main character and her adventures with a pet monkey and a talking backpack, (including catching the ice-cream truck before it leaves, and making it home on time before a rainstorm). Yes, I can totally see the relevance of episodes titled “Bugga, Bugga,” and “Hic-Boom-Ohhh,” to the new law in Arizona, SB 1070, wherein a person is “presumed to not be an alien who is unlawfully present in the United States’ if he or she presents any of the following four forms of identification: (a) a valid Arizona driver license; (b) a valid Arizona nonoperating identification license; (c) a valid tribal enrollment card or other tribal identification; or (d) any valid federal, state, or local government-issued identification, if the issuer requires proof of legal presence in the United States as a condition of issuance.” The fact that a 7 year-old cartoon is somehow at the crux of several discussions concerning U.S. policies and legislation is beyond absurd. Um, what’s next, is Spongebob going to be the face of the BP oil spill in the Gulf because he lives in “a pineapple under the sea”? Should we be expecting an exclusive interview with the Little Mermaid on “60 Minutes” soon? Will the President of the United States hold a meeting with Aquaman and Captain Planet to get their “expert opinions” on the situation? (He’d probably benefit more from their advice than what he’s getting now, anyway.) But let’s face it: these discussions, however immature they may be, are not too far from what we hear coming from our leaders and so-called professionals. Hmmm. . .
To be continued.
. .
Mr. President,
After a recent bipartisan meeting about the upcoming elections, Sen. Pat Roberts (R-KS.) criticized you for being “thin-skinned,” and suggested that you “take a Valium” before speaking to Republicans. If you need a fix in the future, I’m sure Rush Limbaugh can hook you up with a good discount (although he seems to prefer Viagra and Oxycontin). I definitely agree that you need to toughen up a bit, but I also believe the Republicans could use some ExtenZe and grow a bigger dick. Now that’s a two-party compromise I’d fully support. A topic of discussion at the next State of the Union Address, maybe? Think about it.
Sincerely,
The Badassador
Attn: Tony Hayward, CEO BP
At the rate of 798,000 gallons per day, it seems that the oil presently spilling into the ocean requires more attention than that roll of “quilted quicker picker uppers” you’ve offered as a solution. Assessing the situation as “relatively tiny,” and its subsequent impacts on the environment as “modest” is sufficient proof of your incompetence, especially when this catastrophe is now visible from o u t e r s p a c e. Clearly the leakage can not be cleaned up with a few paper towels. For a NASA-sized spill I recommend the Shamwow. It holds up to 20 times its weight in liquid! And that should do the trick, right?
Warmest Regards,
America
P.S. You can get 8 Shamwows for the low price of just $19.95 if you call in the next 20 minutes! At that price, this is a steal my friend.
To: Glenn Beck
From: The Badassador
Subject: Re: Your Anti-Mother’s Day Tirade
You are the load your mother should have swallowed. I’m sure it says that somewhere on your chalkboard.
May 4, 2010
Ms. Simpson,
It’s been 3 days since you last brushed your teeth. I don’t mind the gingivitis lingering within the walls around here. Or the tooth decay and cavities. But those bits and pieces of the tuna–I mean Chicken of the Sea sandwich you ate last Wednesday for lunch, however, are really starting to stink the place up. Please do me a favor and start brushing.
Preferably every day.
Sincerely,
Your Mouth
Moose Soup for the Mavericky Soul 
