America's Got Talent, But Not Really

Talent contests in small towns are quite funny, in that often they produce winners with heads far too big for their necks to hold.  Living so close to Hollywood, you see these types all the time, in fact they come in on buses called "The American Dream" down long black roads called 'Down and Out Blvd' and 'Nowhere Street.'  They're so blinded they don't even notice all the dirty people on the street asking for change, the shopping carts with all their worldly possessions, the three legged dogs, or the crippled woman wheeling herself down the sidewalk.

Their heads are held too high.

I wandered lonely as a cloud,
that floats on high over vales and hills.

Their words carry with them an underlying tone of hope that takes a moment to adjust to, much like listening to a person with an unusually thick accent.  Usually they've won some small talent contest in their local county, a big one too --by their standards-- of upwards of two hundred folk, from all around.  Upon winning, they perceive themselves to be something real special, for the wonders of human ego are indeed quiet powerful; what was once used to survive now only serves as a catalyst for the death of dreams for so many people. . .  And sadly what these few fail to realize is, is that talent is judged in contrast to all that surrounds it, so sadly Chattanooga County, although a fine example of America's hard working farming backbone, is hardly the place for any talent.  Sure a pro ball player or two may slip through the iron grasp of mediocrity, but they're ballplayers: their game is American, and they are American, they right as well deserve it.  Because America is as real as The American Dream.

We're talking fuckin' real. . .

And even though you beat out Jeb the Tobacco Spitting Champion, and his nearly hundred yard spats, it hardly compares to the abundance of semi-good/horribly bad talent, found here in the wretched rivers of Los Angeles.

But these Hollywood hopefuls are not alone.  Its a calamity found in those who seek Las Vegas for the same reason, that shining jewel buried deep in acres of death and desert and easily confused as a great bed of opportunity.  (If you hum loud enough, you no longer hear the vultures.)

With this in mind, may we go on to the real purpose of this shitz: America's Got Talent.

I guess America's Got Its Fair Share of Douchetards and Morons wouldn't fit.

Hollywood use to be a place for special people, with special talents honed and scouted by special people working for special studios.  These days, thanks to shit like Youtube, American Idol, and America's Got Talent, every Joe Schmoe with a couple of compliments from friends and family under his belt thinks he's got a shot of making it big.  Some claim this is a defect worth watching, for sometimes those with no abilities whatsoever try their best to make something of themselves, only to become the next viral video of some moron failing at life and getting torn apart by a couple of assholes who've been given the right to say what's good and what isn't.

First of all America's Got Talent (I refuse to say AGT) fails in that not even its judges are talented.  You would think that perhaps they would have to undergo some sort of a test, or screening period, during which they would endure some sort of talent evaluation, you know, so when they say you suck and have no talent, it isn't the pot calling the kettle black.  Its almost like they don't give a fuck, so why should we?

I mean for season 1, the host was none other than Regis Philban, and the judges were Brandy, David Hasselhoff, and Piers Morgan.  For season 2 Brandy was cast aside for Sharon Osbourne, and after that David was eventually given up for Howie Mandel.

Piers Morgan of course, is a douchey British judge, who made his money as an editor of tabloid newspapers in the UK, which covered everything from pointless gossip to sensationalized tragedy.

David Hasselhoff of course, is a quitter ex-alkie who not only had a mediocre t.v. career, but also a mediocre singing career.

Sharon Osbourne of course, is the red-headed matriarch of the Osbourne Family and geriatric-caregiver-for-life to Ozzy Osbourne.  She's also had het hand in some real shit shows herself (Rock of Love: Charm School, hosted X-Factor UK.  The Sharon Osbourne Show).

Howie Mandel of course, made his start putting condom's over his head and filling them with his own retarded air supply until the eventually popped, while at the same talking in a kiddie voice and creating his own kids show. . . Not to mention that horrid game show Deal or No Deal.

And who can we blame for this cacophony of mediocrity and complete and utter bullshit?

This douche:

Ala David Carradine. (courtesy of bloggerheads.com)

Yeah, Simon fuckin' Cowell, that asshole from that other show. . .

Apparently with the help of a couple of other people unrecognized by the majority of the world, Simon Cowell helped create America's Got Talent.  I find it to be some sort of sick joke, as Simon Cowell isn't American and is in fact a total asshole; I wouldn't put it past him to load up his show with lots of talentless people just so he could really stick em one.

Even the winners go on to be nothing more than distant memories: kinda like American Idol.  I mean the first winner, ever.... of America's Got Talent, was an eleven year old singer, picked by the viewers  The second winner was a ventriloquist. . . Right then and there, television sets around the country should have been tuning into something else, simultaneously, but the extensive range of retardation in this country is growing steadily: and as such, so are America's Got Talent's ratings.  Season 3 produced an opera singer named Neal E. Boyd (who put out an album afterward that charted at #195) and averaged nearly 12.5 million viewers each night. Season 4 produced a country singer, Kevin Skinner (who put out an album afterward that never charted) and averaged 14.9 million viewers each night.

Season 5 is still going on, its finale being September 15, 2010.  It is unceremoniously been given the title of "The Most Watched Summer Show of 2010."

The foul year of our lord, two-thousand-and-ten.

Oh and don't you worry, the whole gang will be back again next year, with a whole new crop of failed magicians and weird performance artists, for all the world to laugh at. . .

I suppose them carnie folks had it right.  Everyone loves a good freak show.

Hi I'm Prince Poppy Cock, I would be what would happen if Lady Gaga fucked Marie Antoinette.

Hi, I'm Dan Perry, a magician like Chryss Angel, only with a third of the talent and 10 times less marketable.

Hi, no seriously, hi pretty lady.  Heeeey.

Talent Contests like these totally blow.  At times they completely objectify people, sometimes people willingly do it to themselves. Regardless of the reasons, the majority come chasing their dreams, and for the most part, they haven't achieved them because there are very few places for performance kite flyers, and strange magicians - there just isn't any real demand, outside of talent shows of course.

But then again, perhaps I'm just being too cynical.  The winners get their own show in Vegas, and hell, Carrot Top is fucking big out there, and he's a steroid injected prop comic, who's so freakish, he himself has become a prop to put in for laughs on other syndications.

But what about the singers?

What about em?

They hardly if ever crawl out from under the stigma of being a 'talent contest winner,' almost as if they've got a  giant asterisk next to their name for their short-cut into Hollywood.

Its really just people wanting to be on t.v., and that old time honored belief that 'being on t.v.' can 'make you famous,' though these days this belief has waned and has instead shown up on the internet (Youtube, etc.)

And its for these reasons, the chasing of the dream, the potential failure, the hope of riches and fame under the glittering lights of Hollyweird, that iR declares America's Got Talent agelessly retarded.

America's Got Talent's first host was Regis Philbin, who was replaced by the great Jerry Springer, who was replaced by Nick Cannon, who currently hosts the show.

America's Got Talent is just one of many Talent shows, under the control of Simon Cowell and his company. It currently is the fastest growing television franchise, with 42 different versions for all 42 different countries it appears in.

Simon Cowell is unable to judge America's Got Talent because he's too busy being an asshole on American Idol.  (Contract obligations.)

All winners get a million dollar prize, along with a headlining show at a Vegas Casino (if they're old enough.)

I hear the dinner bell.

love,

iR

The Situation Explains The Hunt

Mike The Situation Sorrentino is an elegant man when describing the hunt, he's kind of like a hunter of exotic animals who waxes romantic about his acts, even though in reality he's a vile, wretched, soul killer. He's like the Shakespeare of sleaze, and like Shakespeare, he sometimes needs a translation. . .

On the last episode of Jersey Shore, the gang found themselves at yet another club (as usual.)  For the Situation this meant only one thing, it was time to go on the hunt:

1. I'm in the club, doing mah thing, as usual.  I see this blonde headed girl.  As usual I just sniped her.  Its just that one look from a distance and its 'you know, you comin' home with me' type of look.  And sure enough we were dancing for like five minutes, and there was no question.  So uh...

I was dancing at a club, at an elevated point, from which I could scan the entire room, and low and behold, I spotted a blonde who's head was bobbing back and forth, like a buoy amidst a dark and menacing sea.  I could tell by her rocking that she was the right girl for me, for she exhibited a lack of balance that only many many drinks or a medical condition can produce; either way, The Situation is taking her home. From the rate at which she's holding back vomit, I can tell that I won't need to soak this one in the jacuzzi first, she's the kind you take straight to bed.  I mean I even danced with her for five minutes, which means she's totally into me.

The girl decides to go home with the Situation, which he explains with all the class of a true gentlemen:

2.  She showed me how smart she was... I mean, the girl obviously went to college.

She's obviously retarded and/or wasted out of her mind.  She obviously went to community college.

The Situation brings her into the house, and into the Smush Room, but upon bringing her there, the Situation finds that he is running on empty, and in need of douche fuel:

3.  I'm not ready to perform right now.  I'm like a Ferrari, I'm high maintenance okay?

Wait here baby, in the room aptly named The Smush Room in that its the only room in which we bring skanky sluts for the sole purpose of 'smushing.'  Never mind the stains on the comforter, they were here when we moved in.  Just wait here.   Meanwhile, I plan on fueling up for The Situation's eight seconds of pleasure with something pleasing on the stomach and not entirely disgusting on one's breath: a chicken burrito with some rice and beans.  I'll try and hurry up and eat it out in the dining room while you wait, but not too fast, as The Situation wouldn't want to burn his tongue, now would he?

With his meal finished, he still finds time to amp himself up a little more before he makes some lucky lady's slut's night:

4.  Boomsky, you know I gotta make sure I'm all good.

Gotta ease that stomach of mine with a nice cigarette mmmm, delicious.

With his stomach brought back to a tolerable homeostasis, its off to the Smush Room, where the loyal woman has been waiting the whole time.  With the deed done, in a blink of the eye, there's only one thing for The Situation to do. . . Kick her out:

5.  How you feelin'?  You good?  You straight?  Alright thats good. . . Uh, yeah, so um.  I, uh.  I got uh taxi for you baby.  Its all setup, I setup everything for you.

Yes, I'd like you to think I'm being a nice guy, but seeing as how you can't take the hint, I already went through the trouble of calling a taxi for you. . . So if you don't mind, won't you see your way out?  I'm not the cuddling type.

10 Reasons Why The Adventures of Pluto Nash is a Good (Retarded) Movie

The following, one might state as the reasons why The Adventures of Pluto Nash is the worst movie perhaps ever made, but it is like they say: its all how you look at it.

1.  Jay Mohr Singing in a Fucking Kilt

whats the use of havin' religion

First of all, when starting a movie, its important to build up some tension, or at least get the audience excited a little.  For Pluto Nash, this means Jay Mohr singing some horrid tune while playing an according to an empty bar with horrible standards when it comes to sanitation, and a less than homey feel.  All fuckin' right.  Jay Mohr of course, is that douchetard who wasn't funny enough to carry a comedy by himself, and wasn't quite handsome enough to carry a romance flick, so he was stuck doing a combination of the two in such sudden bouts of retardation, it was enough to make even the corniest of losers laugh right in his face.

2.  Randy Quaid Plays a Robot, a Horny One

Fuck dah police

Randy Quaid plays a robot, and not just any robot, but an old run down one, of a now defunct model now longer popular in the random decade of 2080.  This is no doubt an allusion to his real life and acting career, as they don't quite make em like they made Randy Quaid, and he is indeed -damaged goods-.  Not only that, but he's been loaded up with hot wiring techniques and knows all about smuggling.  He's a renegade robot, which is great, because these days Randy Quaid is a renegade actor on the run for running up yet another hotel bill he had no way of possibly paying.  One must wonder if he used this role as inspiration for his antics in court, for he at times seemed crazy enough to walk into the place with a couple of guns intent on filling the whole place with a couple of extra holes.

3.  Albino Black Man

I hate you dadeh.

Now most considerate, mature, normal people don't make fun of others shortcomings, especially when these shortcomings are out of their hands, and cannot be as quickly remedied as a mere outbreak out pimples, or an awkward voice not yet matured, but alas, I am not often considerate, mature, or normal, at least not online anyway.  Besides, the guy is a comedian and its like 90% of his shitty act.  Yes, Pluto Nash features an albino black guy, who've they have made out to be dumb and real ornery.  Talk about getting screwed over: where's my go back to the sack and wait for a better genetic match card?

4.  The Body Morph Scene

How bout some more man-dick?

Eddie Murphy and his lovely co-star walk into a joint that offers body morphing for those who no longer enjoy the body that random genetics has given them.  It is yet another one of the many lovely inventions man has brought to the world now that he has finally crawled off that God forsaken planet called Earth and found the moon a suitable place to plague and defile (good to see we still aren't vain and obsessed with outward appearances in the future...)  The two proceed to preview their alterations in real time, with specific presets, yet at one point Eddie feels the need to make some alterations, and effectively outs himself not only as a womanizer, but also a douche:  "some more bubbalage to the butt," and "titties galore," being some of his alteration instructions. . . Now anyone familiar with Eddie's past knows whats coming next, as Eddie's dream girl not only has a big ass and big tits, but also has a big dick, dangling between her legs. . . In fact Eddie got caught by police in 1997 with a transvestite hooker in his car, right before the release of the movie Holy Man, a film in which he plays 'God,' only with shit tons more advice constantly spewing out of his mouth.  

Some people are touched by this, but they don't realize everything coming out of his mouth is completely bullshit.

Talk about hilarious.

If you can't trust a man who hooks up with random hookers, who can you trust?

5.  Eddie Murphy Tries His Hand at Action

Not only does he dodge potential fire, but he also returns it with all the authenticity of  a person who has seen more than their fair share of shitty cop movies.  I don't know whats worse quite frankly, Eddie Murphy trying to be a dad on screen, or Eddie Murphy trying to act like he's actually held a gun before.  Standards have changed in regards to action movies, but unfortunately Eddie is still stuck in the eighties, and its entirely apparent.  My favorite scene is when a bomb suddenly goes off and Eddie jumps for his lovely co-star in attempt to shield her, but it is quiet apparently he tries his best to protect her tits, as both hands go for both fleshy mounds like a virgin at a dark movie theater.

6.  Eddie Murphy Tries His Hand at The Romantic Role

Given a romantic interest, Eddie Murphy goes to work, with all the charm of a street pimp in need of a couple of new hos.  Not only is he entirely wishy-washy throughout the whole movie, he's also borderline sexist and intensely retarded, but naturally, this being a product of Hollywood, he gets the chick, no matter how vile he acts, after all, he's the "Great Pluto Nash."

7.  Luis Guzman

This guy owns, he's the only guy to have been in movies with Dennis Leary, Adam Sandler, and Eddie Murphy without earing that 'total douchebag' title.  Anyone who can pull that off, has got to be good. Not only that, but he's actually funny in this, despite being bogged down by Mr. Giggles and Psycho Santa.

8.  Shameless Cameos

The movie not only features Foxy Brown, but also the dude who played Young Frankenstein, Peter Boyle.  Any sign of a total shitfest, and therefore movie worth watching due to unmeasurable amounts of lulz, is shit tons of cameos, and The Adventures of Pluto Nash is no different.  Its almost like getting a shit cake, topped with peanut butter cups, its nice there are peanut butter cups, but the problem is their dipped in shit, you know what I mean? 

9.  The 100 Million Dollar Budget

Fail

The Adventures of Pluto Nash is widely criticized because it cost a hundred million dollars to make, and in return only hauled in 7 million dollars.  This alone, makes for plenty of lulz, especially when considering that the movie was also criticized for having shitty computer graphics and horrible humor.  So obviously the money wasn't spent on computer imagery, so what was it spent on?  Eddie's hookers of course.

10.  Eddie Murphy plays Eddie Murphy. . .?

Who dat?

Everyone knows Eddie Murphy likes to stretch himself thin when in a movie by playing multiple rolls.  Well in the case of Pluto Nash, Eddie Murphy plays Eddie Murphy. . . No fat suit, no extensive cosmetics, Eddie literally plays himself, a character more like his real self: a complete and utter asshole.  What follows of course is your typical fight scene in which the two clones get mixed up in such a way that there is no way for anyone to tell who's who. . . Oh, did I just ruin it for you?

Whats hilarious about this is Eddie isn't even trying to hide that he's playing another role.  Its almost like his head has gotten so big that Eddie figures more Eddie means more star power, when in actuality more Eddie equals more annoyance power.

Laugh your way out of this one, douchetard.

And there you have it.  When considered together, not only do you have a terribly good shitty movie, but you also have a bit of retardation you can't help but pass up.  These things should be kept in mind the next time some moron brings up the idea of watching this movie (this never happens,) for when you take the movies history into account, it makes for many great laughs and as I previously stated, a damn good (retarded) movie.

It is for these reasons that iR declares The Adventures of Pluto Nash, completely retarded.

love,

iR

Send all hate mailings to

infinitelyretarded@live.com

The Totally Fuckables

Fuck you, steroids.

Everyone just about knows all about The Expendables by now, but if you don't I'll catch you up real quick: its an homage to everything badass about action movies. Its an atom bomb of death and destruction scorching through the sky with a fiery anus and a crew of everyone's favorite action stars: Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Dolph Lungren, Mickey Rourke, Jet Li, Bruce Willis, Arnold Schwartzenegger, Randy Couture, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Terry Crews. Needles to say there's enough testosterone in this movie to kill a pack of bulls.

It is written and directed by Sylvester Stallone, who's apparently a triple threat: writer, director, actor. With The Expendables, he had no problems with the acting or the directing, but he did at times struggle with the writing part. Having made a name for himself with the movie Rocky, Stallone figured he'd have no problems writing this movie, but he found himself to be only half the writer he once was.  He went through many different drafts of the script, some more macho than others. Fortunately, I happen to have one of his earliest drafts, with notes to himself and everything. . . I must say, its pretty damn manly.

And it goes like this:

THE TOTALLY FUCKABLES (working title)

by Sylvester Stallone

FADE IN:

INT. THE BEAVER HUT (BAR) - NIGHT

A hot MODEL/WAITRESS tends to the bar at The Beaver Hut, wiping the tables in such a way as to provide optimal viewing of her cleavage at all times.  

She becomes hot, so she decides to take her top off, as "Bad Medicine" comes on the glowing juke box in the corner.

She dances to herself, completely topless.

A group of bikers on the other side of the bar arm wrestle and curse at one another, their bearded faces trickling foamy beer.

The model/waitress sprays herself with a seltzer water hose.

Random gun shots are heard outside.

She takes a spin around a stripper pole behind the bar.  When she's done she finds BARNEY ROSS sitting in front of her at the bar.

MODEL/WAITRESS

What'll it be?

BARNEY ROSS:

Gimme some sugar.

Barney reaches over and makes out with her.

Men on the other side of the bar are now playing with knives, explosives.

BARNEY ROSS:

(Determined)

And a beer. . . 

Barney smacks her on the ass as she leaves.

The door to the Beaver Hut opens, and standing there in the door way is TOOL.  (AC/DC song.)

TOOL:

Barney. . .

BARNEY ROSS:

(without looking)

Tool. . .

A man comes crashing through The Beaver Hut's main window, showering glass out upon the patrons of The Beaver Hut.  He thrashes to the floor knocking over tables.

Beers crash to the floor, glasses crash to the floor. 

The man doubles over in a pool of glass.

BARNEY ROSS:

(amused)

I see you brought company.  Ceaser, I pressume?


TOOL:
You know how he always likes to make an entrance.

HALE CEASER steps through the newly formed opening.  He stands amongst the glass smiling.

Another MAN gets up.

MAN:

(angry)
Hey!


BARNEY:
(to himself)
Don't do it.


MAN:
Hey!  You!  Big Man!

He gets up in Ceasers face, looking like he wants to fight.

MAN:

You spilled my beer!  Its seems to me you and your friend are lookin' for trouble.

TOOL:

Tool.

MAN:

Did you just call me a tool?

TOOL:

(laughing)

No its my name.

MAN:

(at Ceaser)

Well it seems to me like you and your tool are looking for a fight.

Ceaser and Tool look angry, almost if ready to pounce on the guy.

A hand grabs the man's shoulder, its Barney's.

BARNEY:

Hey man, take it easy.  You don't know who you're messing with.

MAN:

Looks like a bunch of jerk offs to me.

BARNEY:

No. . . not quite.

"Testosterone" plays.

The man swings for Barney but he ducks and plants him with a stiff right.

A man charges Ceaser but he just tosses him out through the already shattered window.

TOOL:

I'll be your server this evening. . .

Tool kicks a table, pinning a man up against the wall, and then proceeds to pepper him with gun fire.

A man comes out of the bathroom and Barney turns to throw a knife right into his chest.

TOOL:

Time to redecorate.

Tool grabs another man and tosses him over the bar.  He then tosses a grenade over the bar.

The man's face widens in terror.

The grenade explodes, frying the bar and scorching the very labels of all the liquor bottles.

Caser turns and blows a couple of guys away with a gun all of his own.

The three men stand in the middle of the room, the bar littered with bullet holes and dead bodies.  Only the model/waitress remains, cowering behind the bar.

BARNEY:

Put it on my tab.

EXT. THE BEAVER BAR - NIGHT


Barney, Ceaser and Tool stand outside of the bar, Tool lighting a cigarette.

BARNEY:

Where are the boys?

CEASER:

Oh they'll be here.

A hummer covered in camouflage paint screeches around a corner.

The sound of the engine alone drowns out even the most bad ass of hard rock.

Hookers from a nearby corner come over and offer the boys blow jobs as they wait for their ride.


Barney Ross takes up one of their offers and receives a blow job.


EXPLOSIONS.


GUN FIRE.


The hummer comes burning rubber around the corner.  Its driven by YING YANG (or maybe Ching Chang?)  Dan Paine, and Toll Road.


The hummer arrives outside of the bar, and all of the boys get inside the car.

BARNEY ROSS:

I told em not to fuck with us.

YING YANG:

What?

BARNEY ROSS:

The Totally Fuckables.

EXPLOSIONS

CUT TO:

The Totally Fuckables title screen.

It gets worst.  There are whole entire scenes where all the women are completely topless, and for no reason other than to show some titty. There was only one scene that included something slightly feminine.  It was a scene that included a hill full of flowers, beautiful and peaceful, but of course they blew it up, turned it wretched and black with ash.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) this original draft never really made it to the screens.  What we're left with is what you've got now - a still utterly retarded movie full of shitty puns and aging action stars (namely Stallone.)  That is of course, unless you own this copy of the script.

And you don't, because I do.

You should come over and give it a read sometime.

Seriously.

The ten page sex scene in the middle is entirely graphic, yet strangely hilarious.

I would only watch The Expendables if it was intentionally done to be the manliest movie ever. . .  

Like it would have all the chicks wearing bikinis, regardless of the situation, even if they're in an office, or in the middle of fucking nowhere.  The movie soundtrack too, would consist of nothing but ass kicking rock music, and all the songs would have to be either about pussy, killing, or blowing shit up.  In other words, total fucking overkill.

But I hear its kinda like that anyway.

So I wrote myself a phony script and put Sylvester Stallone's name next to the byline.  

Boo-fuckin'-hoo.

So anyway, when this movie finally comes out on HBO, I'm sure I'll watch it a bunch of times, and I'm sure it will live up to everything I've heard about it, and I'm sure with a lot of booze and a lot of smoke, The Expendables will be nothing short of hilarious.

And its for this very reason alone that iR declares The Expendables, epically retarded.

*The only part of an iR thats actually true.

Jean Claude Van Damme was offered a part in The Expendables, but ever since he did JCVD he's gotten all artsy and pompus, and at the time found his proposed character in the movie to be lacking in depth.

Hale Ceaser was originally written for Wesley Snipes.  Snipes said no.  Was rewritten for Forrest Whittaker. Scheduling Conflicts.  Was replaced by 50 Cent (damn that would have been hilarious,) but was then eventually given to Terry Crews.

Steven Seagal was asked to make an appearance, but he was too busy molesting his sex slaves and pretending to save the people of Jefferson Parish, Louisiana on that shit show Lawman.

Kurt Russell was offered a part, to which he replied/bitch slapped stallone: "I'm not into ensemble acting at the moment."

A composer was brought on to do original music for the show, hilarious songs like Scanning the Enemy, and Losing my Mind, and Giant With a Shotgun.

The Expendables has already made 104 million dollars, its budget being 80 million.

Stallone has already stated that he's ready to do a sequel, which is "already plotted out in [his] minds eye."  Although nothing has been put on page yet.

Expendables Official Site

Stallone killed youtubes.

David Arquette and The Succubus

Durr, I had a note pinned to my chest, but I lost it.

Ever see the eyes of a dead or dying dog?

David Arquette has these eyes, that is unless of course, he is watching professional wrestling.  The spectacle brings back that silly grin, all teeth and bulging bug eyeballs.  It reminds him of when he was a kid, when it was generally okay to be retarded because it could easily be pawned off as lack of knowledge resulting from far too little time spent on Earth.  But now he was nearly forty.  Nearly forty, which meant he should know a thing or two about a thing or two, but he didn't.

When he was a kid, the world had heroes of such fine and pure virtues that they seemed to glow, and everything was a distinguishable black or white, and the light always overcame the dark.

These days things ran together too much.  These days he wasn't quite sure.

The theatrics on television awake in him a small coal buried deep in his bosom, one that he thought had long since burned out.  The coal smolders, a dull red, and the more he watches, the brighter it glows.  A warmth begins in David's very center and spreads outward, growing warmer as the coal grows brighter.  He begins to feel safe and warm.

But then the old bitch barks, and the coal dies and David's eyes blink back to those dead dog eyes.

"David, dear. . ."  The word 'dear' stabbing him in the heart, he knows he's about to be asked to do something.  "The soy milk is four days from expiring.  I simply won't drink it, four days from expiration.  Imagine sour soy milk?!  That is just disgusting David. . .  And imagine the smell!  The smell David!  Won't you head out and get some fresh soy milk?!"

"Yes dear."  Dead dog eyes and a voice of defeat.  But what he really means is its only four days from expiration!  And everyone knows the expiration date is but a mere guideline!  But then she would say it's all the same, and he would get an even dirtier look. It was just best to say yes dear.  He wanted to say that you probably couldn't even smell it, even if it did spoil a week later, what with all the damn flowers in the place. . . But again it was better to live like a bitch in a lilied palace than to take a whippin'. . . and oh how could she belt em out.

The whip crashes and the mule goes to work. . .

The foreman works the gears and the cogs do all the work. . .

The zombie begins his sluggish trip down the road for a quart of "Fresh" soy milk. . .

I can go on and on. . .

But how did it turn out this way?  David thinks to himself, as he speeds down the road.  He takes a look at himself in the rear view mirror.  He considers driving right into the ditch, at 60 miles per hour.  In a convertible?  He felt good about the chances of it killing him, but then he considered how badly Courteney would beat him if he were to kill himself. He knew how sad it was to fear a woman so bad that not even death could deter her righteous vengeance, but boy would she be mad, mad at his dead corpse, and what then?  She probably knew of hexes. . . But. . .

How?

How did I become Courteney Cox's bitch?

Well lets see David, how now, did it all happen?

Well David, you've had a career in the movies that carries far more titles than most people generally assume, but thats because most of your work is just that forgettable.  The pillars of your douchey career are a handful of movies most people (or just myself--) know of only because they are that bad (--for surely not everyone enjoys movies because they are bad, right?) Nonetheless the list reads like this, or at least in my estimation:

Scream, See Spot Run, Eight Legged Freaks, Ready to Rumble, Never Been Kissed (casted as the cool ex high school jock - really?  No really?)

Yes.  Those movies alone.  They're how you became Courteney Cox's bitch, starting with Scream, a movie where your character was so pathetically retarded anyone could see the underlying malice in Courteney's character suddenly finding an interest in yours, as you just so happen to be the brother of a girl who's friends just start dying. Seducing you would be quite useful for a fame hungry news reporter like her.  Anyone could see she was using you Dewey (David,) as it could be the only possible reason she would even talk to you, as not only were you a joke of a cop, but a joke of a man. . .  Yet alas, the wonders of Hollywood script writing strike her dead in the forehead, and somehow this 'successful' news reporter Gale Weathers (Cox) falls for a rent-a-cop still living with his parents (Arquette) and with a shit stain on his upper lip he shamefully calls a mustache. . .

A pretend on screen relationship that somehow blossomed into a real life relationship just as retarded, and controlling. . .

Its almost like a Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie.

Yes and then theres Scream 2, where, being a total franchise, your character totally evolves and develops throughout each movie. . . In Scream 2, this means Officer Dewey has gained himself respect, and has managed to finally learn how to read (after many many lessons,) and finally gets his hands on one of his 'beloved's' books (Cox.)  Low and behold, Dewey finds out that perhaps this Gale Weathers chick aint so friendly after all, that perhaps she's just a biiiiitch:

Yet soft enough to come back for the compliment, even after all that...

And soft enough to say 'yes' after she asked YOU to MARRY HER.

In real life, and in the movie, yet somehow, the real life thing was more pathetic.

Remember how she made you get down on one knee?  -Now pull out the ring David, good now on my finger- And then she said 'You are going to marry me,' to which you replied 'yes, yes of course.'  And then she said 'I wasn't asking, I was telling.'

Remember?

But she makes most of the decisions right?

For instance your 'mutual' company Coquette Productions, named by taking the Co from Cox, and the Quette from Arquette is named as such to provide the illusion that now that 'we're married,' we share everything right down the middle - but this could hardly be true, as Coquette Productions is headed by Courtney, and further serves to keep her around, as she is not only an executive producer on every show the company is involved with, but it has also recently pumped out her own show, with her as the star: Cougar Town.

Just nothing but dead dog eyes.

But back in the day, why, back in the day David had fun, David exhibited a strange bit of unique retardation all of his own.  David, was David:

An awkward. . . 

dancing. . .

boob lovin'. . . 

pot head?

Damn you Courteney, damn you.

David Arquette use to say "Where's the weed at?"

Now all he says is "Jose, the weeds in the front yard need killing."

And it is for that reason alone, that iR declares David Arquette, sadly retarded.

David Arquette appeared in an ABC comedy series In Case of Emergency which was canceled after only one season.

David Arquette's sister is a tranny named Alexis Arquette, who in all actuality has a little hood in her: she once had an altercation with hecklers during which she threatened to use a patio umbrella as a weapon.  

David Arquette won the wCw World Heavyweight Championship title, despite not being a heavyweight, or any good at wrestling.  If that doesn't prove professional wrestling is fake, nothing will.

The band The Black Math Experiment wrote a song entitled "You Cannot Kill David Arquette," obviously, they have never met Courteney Cox.

David Arquette has his own clothing line.

David Arquette will be in Scream 4, alongside his wife Courteney Cox.