Our Bony Ambassador

Don't get me wrong: I think it's great that Angelina Jolie is helping raise awareness of the plight of the Somalis. But do these refugees want to give her a bowl of rice?

Seriously, her wasted muscles are straining to keep her huge head from toppling off its stalk into the poor woman's lap. Maybe instead of the baseball cap, the U.N. could have her wear a drinking helmet like this:


Just replace the cola with one of those protein drinks made for the elderly and bedridden, like Ensure. A volunteer could follow her around and keep the hat filled at all times.

We could start a fund to bring food to her French chateau. We could call it The Great Cheeseburger Airlift of 2009. Come on, people. We can do this!

Très Jolie:
Angelina Jolie, Beautiful Freakshow
High Brow, Low Brow, Meet-me-in-the-Middle Brow

7 Shopping Tips from the September Issues

September is the time of year when fashion magazines try to outdo each other with the "mine is bigger than yours" competition usually reserved for the boys. Vogue won the prize this year at just under two and a half pounds, with 447 of its 584 pages devoted to ad space.

This season's mandate: appear to acknowledge the recession while repackaging frivolous, insanely expensive items as smart, economical purchases. The following is what I gleaned from the magazines' advice on how to indulge my inner greedhead in these dark recessionary times. Apparently, saving money involves spending stupid amounts of it.

1. Cunnilingus sells shoes. (Well, duh! Of course it does!)

This ad appeared in Vogue, Elle, Harper's Bazaar and Allure. Tear it out and watch your significant other search for the shoe, then immediately take you shopping...for anything.

2. Shop your closet.

Everyone knows that when money is tight, we can't afford to buy head-to-toe designer looks. For this reason, InStyle advises accessorizing the $395 chiffon wrap that is undoubtedly already hanging in your closet with the D-Bag from Tod's. No, it's not a feminine hygiene product. It's a purse which retails for $1,445 and is named in memory of Princess Diana. She would be so proud.


How did shopping my closet get so expensive? The several receptacles I already own are not up to snuff. Who am I to argue with the experts?

3. Indulge in life's little luxuries.

Vogue writes of the "new economy":

Irrationally exuberant spending has been replaced by carefully considered decisions about getting our money's worth--like the smart buys on these pages, made by designers exclusively for Vogue.

One of these "pick-me-ups that won't bring you down" is a $495 lipstick case.

There's something so wonderfully ingenious about this invented necessity. I had been unaware that my lipstick case pined for a wardrobe of its own. I'd been considering saving on lipstick by dragging my mouth across a stucco wall for some color. Now I need to steal $500 and shoplift some Revlon in order to feel complete.

4. Consult the stars.

From my horoscope in Allure:

Saturn--the planet that's caused you misery these past two years--finally does you a favor when it conjoins the Sun in Virgo on the 17th. It'll still cost you time and money to resolve the issue, but the price is worth it for the peace of mind you'll get in return.

Fucking Saturn. Even the heavens want me to go shopping.

5. You deserve a piece of the pie, even if you can't afford a piece of pie.

The normally populist Us Weekly rationalizes deficit spending in its 28-page Fall Style Special, which touts Hilary Duff's discount duds, then segues into this advice:

Can't spring for that big designer tote? Help yourself to these hot-label accessories that A-listers adore

They include a $260 Fendi coin purse and a $345 pair of metal and resin (what my people call plastic) Chanel earrings.

6. You're investing in the future, just not the one you were expecting.

Speaking of Chanel, Us has a two-page spread about the history and production of the 2.55 Chanel bag, so worth it at a cool $2,495. It helpfully lists Chanel's website so you can order right away. The bag is just large enough to carry your lipstick case, coin purse, eviction notice and tissues to wipe your daughter's tears when you tell her you can't afford braces this year.Oh well, maybe snaggle teeth will be in next year. If not, she can always move to England, land of unfortunate orthodontia. You can always pass it down to her. It will hold her dentures quite handily, right next to her broken dreams of a better life.


7. When all else fails, multitask.

Don't overlook the hidden benefits of your crass materialism. If the amortization of daily usage can't justify your purchase of a designer Zip-loc with handles, look at that Chanel bag in a new light. Clear some space on your closet rod and those chain straps will make a trendy noose. (Autoerotic asphyxiation not included. Fashion can't teach us everything.)


More fashion:
Gnashin' Fashion
3 Uses for September Vogue

Cum On Feel the Noize

It's a beautiful day outside and I have thrown open my windows. (Okay, I opened them gently: throwing them sounds strenous and needlessly violent.) As a result, I do not have the white noise of my air conditioner to buffer the sounds of city living.

A quick rundown: right now I am hearing street traffic, a subway train passing on the elevated tracks, a jackhammer...and birds. I am used to all of this. Unless my attention is drawn to it, I don't really notice this soundtrack. I can filter it out regardless of the state of my AC unit.

But there is one thing I can't ignore: someone within a few blocks seems to have grown enamored of an air horn and is working hard to get his or her money's worth out of it. All I need now is for my bongo-playing neighbor, who is decidedly not Matthew McConaughey, to start practicing.

I've been hearing the air horn at odd intervals for the past two hours. When I ran (okay, walked) to the store, I heard it a couple of times but not enough to locate its source. The blasts are too intermittent for me to track down and kick the person responsible in the balls and/or vagina--in NYC, you can never be sure--or I surely would.

As for bongo boy: he should take up a silent instrument or start wearing a cup.

Gnashin' Fashion

At Magick Sandwich, we try to keep up with the latest trends. In the aftermath of Fashion Week in New York City, we try to put the pieces together of our blown minds.

As usual, the runways were rife with looks that suggest designers have gone off their meds. One of my favorites for Spring is the Stormtrooper/Fat Albert homage shown in Thom Browne's men's collection.


Runway garb is meant to be fanciful. No one really expects anyone to wear that hat in real life (though I would pay to see it). But the most puzzling outfit premiered this past week didn't appear on the catwalk: It debuted in stores.

Topshop, in case you haven't heard of it, is a retail chain that sells disposable fashion: that is, trendy, cheap skivvies with delusions of grandeur. Christopher Kane is the latest in a long list of designers and celebrities to team up with the outlet and produce a limited edition clothing line. These clothes are meant to be worn now, in public.

I have to admit, the Crocodile Dress has me throwing up my hands and exclaiming, "I don't get it!" Then my primitive limbic system takes over in and I yank my arms back to my sides to avoid having them bitten off by a prehistoric beast from hell.

Apparently, I'm the only one reacting this way. The line arrived in stores September 18th and was promptly snapped up--that's pun-speak for sold out--within hours.

Call me crazy, but choosing to depict one's cooterial region as a cavernous, toothy maw seems counter-intuitive at best. Conjuring the specter of vagina dentata can't be a good idea. Tickle a guy's subconscious fear of dismemberment by a fanged birth canal and you just might take the wind out of his sails, permanently. It's what I would call a Negative Date Outcome.

Perhaps the back of Kane's next dress could depict the swollen red bottom a baboon presents to her prospective mates. For the sake of young men's psyches everywhere, I hope Kane's friends will steer him toward Animal Planet. And away from Shark Week.

Feckless Douche of the Week: Rush Limbaugh

It's easy to say that we should stop paying attention to Rush Limbaugh, that by repeating his hateful speech, we are keeping him on the national stage. If you believe that, then I've got news for you. A lot of people listen to him and he's not going away. His rhetoric needs to be dragged into the light and exposed as the stinking garbage it is. Here are a few recent examples from Tuesday's radio show:

Regarding Kanye West's rude behavior toward Taylor Swift at the VMAs,Rush said Obama was "probably just jealous" of Kanye's communication skills when Obama called him a "jackass."

Responding to police claims that an attack on a white student by black students on a bus was not racially motivated, Limbaugh said:

I think the guy’s wrong. I think not only it was racism, it was justifiable racism. I mean, that’s the lesson we’re being taught here today. Kid shouldn’t have been on the bus anyway. We need segregated buses — it was invading space and stuff. This is Obama’s America.

He also talked about how happy he is that "Obama's failing," that it's what he's wanted all along. He joked that on Monday Night football, whenever Tom Brady said "hut" it made him think of Obama's family in Kenya, and speculated that Obama doesn't help his family there because his "half-white side" is racist. Then he dropped this piece of philosophical excrement:

If homosexuality being inborn is what makes it acceptable, why does racism being inborn not make racism acceptable? I'm sorry -- I mean, this is the way my mind works. But apparently now we don't choose racism, we just are racists. We are born that way. We don't choose it. So shouldn't it be acceptable, excuse -- this is according to the way the left thinks about things.

Why does anyone listen to this asshole? Apparently, this is what passes for revolutionary, patriotic thought in his fans' minds. This would be laughable if people didn't hang on the buffoon's every ignorant word. It's the Gospel of Saint Hate.


We've had a lot of celebrities die this year. Rush's ample adipose tissue must hold a pharmacy's worth of Oxycontin but the guy just won't overdose. If only he would learn the pleasures of autoerotic asphyxiation without the safety measures....It would take an awfully strong closet rod to hold him up. Start researching fine hotels and I'll get the belt.

More about Rush:
Listening to Limbaugh
Stop Picking on Rush Limbaugh!

TGIF? Not for Jason

It's hard to imagine a guy who's more disappointed on most Fridays than Jason Voorhees.

Show your solidarity with this t-shirt from Snorg Tees and have a knife-wielding psycho-free weekend.

More Jason-related fashion:
Something to Ponder this Friday the 13th

Twitter Tuesday: Kanye Against the World

Here at Magick Sandwich, we enjoy Twitter but often wonder: what is it good for? Like a Twinkie, it's engineered to be tasty but goes right to our mental thighs. But its injudicious use by a journalist has just proven Twitter's intrinsic social value in our eyes.


It was the tweet heard 'round the world: Terry Moran of ABC reported that President Obama called Kanye West a "jackass" for his behavior at the MTV Video Music Awards. He deleted it minutes later but as any Twitterer who's written something regrettable knows, he couldn't delete it from the public cache. For now, the original can still be seen here. Even if the Twitter gods remove it, it's been retweeted so many times that it will live on in cyberspace forever.

Whether it was meant to be off the record or not, Obama's assessment was the cold, hard bitch slap that West so richly deserved. Most of the time, events are blown out of proportion and don't deserve our attention. (See Sacha Baron Cohen's bare-assed stunt with Eminem at the MTV Movie Awards if you feel like wasting a minute of your life.)

There are rumors swirling that Kanye's bad behavior was staged, too. But I'd be surprised if anyone, even the idiots at MTV, thought this would be funny. The video clip has already been pulled from youTube but is still on view at MTV's site: Kanye West being a jackass to Taylor Swift at the VMA Awards. It will make your jaw drop and your heart ache for Taylor Swift, whose moment in the spotlight was marred by this moron.

I don't know what possessed me to want to chide the hip hop douchebag for simply being himself. It turns out there are a lot of Kanye Wests on Twitter. (My favorite is Gay Fish Kanye.) So I wrote to him on FaceBook instead. You can, too.

There's only one way to know for sure if I reached the real Kanye. He won't be able to keep his mouth shut.

P.S. Check out Kanye Ruins Patrick Swayze's Last Goodbye at celebjihad.com. (Link courtesy of thinkinfu)

Another stupid Kanye utterance captured by the Sandwich:
Still More Quotes of the Day

Feckless Liar of the Week: Spencer Pratt

Today, Life Without Feck inaugurates its new feature by recognizing the chutzpah of the talentless douchebag, celebritard and creator of the socially transmitted disease known as "Speidi," Spencer Pratt.

To be fair, it's not uncommon for folks to exaggerate to impress others. But Heidi Montag's better half and self-professed king of all media has gone one toke over the line with his claim of scoring 1490 on his SAT exam.

"760 math, 730 verbal," the Hills star, 26, who majored in political science at the University of Southern California, boasted to Us.

It would be giving him too much credit to call him a bullshit artist. He doesn't paint with it; he just smears it all over the walls and says, "Look what I made!" I like Jon Hamm's assessment of the fame-whoring couple in Elle magazine. They're "famous for nothingness." And not the good Buddhist kind of nothingness, I might add.

I'd like to challenge Mr. Pratt to provide proof of his SAT score. I'm guessing he doubled it. Though I don't want to contribute even in a miniscule way to his fame, I am curious. When Al Roker tweets, "I think we're at minute 11 of their 15," I hope he's being charitable. I'd be happy if we're at 14:59 and I'd never see them or write about them again.

9/11 Jokes: Forever Too Soon?

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

9/11.

9/11 who?

You said you'd never forget!


--from Stop Me if You've Heard This by Jim Holt

*****

The Onion pushes the boundaries of good taste with this commemorative piece:


Americans Observing 9/11 By Trying Not To Masturbate


More from me:
Still Not Funny
#5 of 7 Signs I'm Getting Old
Rudy Giuliani in Sandwich Fixins


P.S. I can imagine nothing more offensive today than screening the DVD of Loose Change 9/11, a film made by and for "truthers" who believe that the same administration that couldn't find its ass with both hands when Katrina hit a few years later had masterminded the controlled demolition of the Twin Towers and orchestrated the ensuing coverup with the cooperation of hundreds of governmental employees and civilians.

To me, that is more disrespectful and defamatory than any joke could ever be. The "facts" presented have been refuted again and again by reputable means. But Dylan Avery, the man responsible for this abomination, should feel good about himself. After all, Charlie Sheen agrees with him. There's a ringing endorsement. Politics certainly does make strange bedfellows but with Charlie, be sure to use a condom. We know where he's been.

I HEART NY

More of my favorites from
Overheard in New York

20-something bum: Excuse me, miss, can I please have a cigarette?
Young woman smoking: Sure.
20-something bum: Thank you so much. I just took a huge hit of heroin and a cigarette after is the balls.
Young woman smoking: Well, happy trails!

--14th St & 3rd Ave

*****

Ghetto mother: Say goodbye to your daddy because you ain't never gonna see him again.
Ghetto child: Bye daddy!

--Staten Island Ferry Terminal

*****

Tourist dad: Sorry, but where are we right now?
Local: Midgard.
Tourist dad: Thanks! Wait, what?

--Union Square

*****

Hipster to 50-something tourist who is blocking the way: Hey, lady, where you from?
Woman, proudly: Kansas.
Hipster: Well, Dorothy, this is not Kansas. This is Times Square, New York City, now get the fuck out of the way! (crowd cheers)

--Times Square

*****

Tourist, taking photo to woman walking in front of camera: Hey! You ruined my picture!
Aggravated city woman: And you ruined my city!

--Grand Central Station

I NY!

9/9/09: So What?

Today's date is a big deal. The symmetry of it seems to inspire magical thinking. There are numerous product launches and long lines to buy lottery tickets.

9/9/09

I found out that for the Win 4 NY Lottery, the numbers 9939 have sold out, at least in the bodega I frequent. I'm not sure how a number can max out, but the guy ahead of me was nonplussed that he couldn't use those numbers. He then went on to play 99D9, which he had written on a piece of paper. When I glanced over his shoulder, he looked at me like I was trying to steal a state secret.

If you are Muslim, Jewish or Chinese and observe a different calendar altogether, you are completely left out of the special nature of this particular day. I think it should be obvious that if you live by the Mayan calendar, you might as well buy a ticket every day, since you know we're all screwed as of 12/21/12 anyway.

Of course, if you use the whole year 2009, the numerological magic breaks down completely. Those silly superstitious fools. But I bought a Quick Pick, just in case.

Magick's Twofer Tuesday, Part 2: Sandwich Salvation In Doubt

Previously on Twofer Tuesday: Magick Sandwich attempted to get in the good graces of the possibly imaginary Man Upstairs by clicking on a Christian Google Ad. Having read previously about prayer's connection to baked goods, kathcom was eager to begin her journey with jesus2020.com. The following details Day Two.

Salvation Followup: O God, I'm Coming!

I guess the folks at Global Media Outreach feel that even a poor sinner like K. Beelzebub who demands cake in exchange for prayer is worthy of salvation. They're going to give it a try.

Perhaps I will inadvertently convert some of my fellow heathens by sharing part of this "devotional" entitled Day 2: BEGINNING THE JOURNEY.

What can I expect on my journey?
Years ago, when our family would set out on a long car trip, we would be only a few miles down the road when one of our then small children would ask, "Daddy, are we there yet?"

On this trip, boys and girls you're not "there" until you die. So if Daddy drives off a cliff--yay! There'll be Smarties and Pixi Stix for everyone...and no tummy ache! Until then, the grim march of life continues, with filthy reststops and no WetNaps to clean strangers' E. coli off the doorknobs.

Satan's tactic for the new believer is to pull you back from your newfound faith. He'll say: "This isn't real. You've just had an emotional experience." "You're going to lose all your friends." "Your fun days are over." It's a mental battle, and dealing with the adversary is a fact of your Christian life.

But I was becoming a Christian so I could get some friends. Those guys are as thick as locusts down here! And what "fun days" are they talking about? If I'd had any of those, I wouldn't have to wish for an afterlife, would I?

When Satan comes with doubts, fears and temptations, oppose him with words like these: "I am a child of God, redeemed from my old life by the Lord Jesus." Then pray for Jesus to help you. "Lord, help me through this battle."

To me, Satan is a fictional character and Jesus has been dead a long time. Wouldn't that be like asking Shakespeare to help me with my homework?

Remember: by coming to Jesus you have taken a major, life-transforming step -- one you will never regret!

As my hubby said to the Jehovah's Witnesses who used to knock on his door in Tulsa, "Jesus saves, but with Satan, no down payment, easy terms." I love that guy! My hubby, I mean, not Satan. Fictional character, remember? Satan, not my hubby. Christ! This could go on till Judgment Day, which according to The Terminator, already happened in the 90's. If that's true, I ask again: where is my cake?

To sum up: If there is a God, I will most likely be voted off the island. If you laughed at any of this, you will be, too. At least we'll be in good company.

More heresy:
Magick's Twofer Tuesday, Part 1: Can This Sandwich Be Saved?
Have Your Cake and Eat Me, Too!
It's a good thing....

Magick's Twofer Tuesday, Part 1: Can this Sandwich Be Saved?

In the ongoing war between Good and Evil, Magick Sandwich likes to hedge its bets. We're not sure how much sway "I was just kidding!" would have with the Almighty. Hence, the Sandwich tiptoed onto Christian turf, in the the ninth month of the Year of our Lord 2008.

Salvation: Just an Email Away!

Don of Beyond Left Field wrote an excellent article called How I Struck Out Jesus, which, fair warning, he linked to a blasphemous dressup site. A coincidental benefit, if there is such a thing as coincidence, was Google Adsense's moronic ad placement, which stated "This Prayer Can Change Your Life" on the page with Don's savior smackdown.

I clicked on it and was directed to jesus2020.com, home of Global Media Outreach. I also had an opportunity to click on the "4 Steps to God" but that just felt like too much work. By the way, does that mean Jesus is coming in 2020? Again, I didn't feel like looking it up but I'd like to be prepared, in a wear-clean-underwear-in-case-of-Rapture kind of way.

I scrolled to the bottom of the page, where I was asked if I'd read the prayer.Since I saw no consequence in lying (cue thunder), I clicked on the big YES. Here's what I saw:



I've been too busy rejecting the possibility of an all-powerful being to learn how to do a proper screenshot, so I'm sorry if the image is too small. Click on the image to enlarge or possibly go directly to Hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

(Note: I've learned a little more about manipulation since then as you can see by the image below, but I still refuse to use my powers for good.)

I had a hard time deciding whether I was choosing Christ or recommitting myself to Him. It's been a long time since I taught Sunday school--no one was confirmed that year--but I've recently become uncomfortable sporting my "I gave myself to Jesus but now he never calls" t-shirt in public. Christians wear crosses as a symbol of their belief. I just happen to wear nasty t-shirts as mine.

I filled out the form and got a quick reply. Of course! If the logistical problem of listening to billions of sniveling prayers for such luxuries as iPhones or clean water doesn't bother God, why should it be a problem for an internet-savvy cyber-church?

Here's the email I received.

Kathcom,

This is to confirm that we have received your request for personal assistance. Please do not reply to this e-mail.
You should receive a personal response by e-mail within the next several business days.

Sincerely,
Response Centers staff

P.S. Your Question/Comment was:
I said the prayer. Where's my cake?

I'll keep you posted. My eternal damnation may be riding on my email provider. Yes, I'm an atheist. But just in case Pascal was right, I don't want to be standing around holding my johnson saying, "Oh, shit".

Okay, so I don't have a johnson. But trust me, if I did, I might as well be holding it if Jesus shows up.

More Jesus juice:
Have Your Cake and Eat Me, too!
It's a good thing....

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of this nail-biting double feature!

Torture Team Trading Cards: Collect 'Em All!

Well, all I can say is, it's about time! All my life, I've felt left out of the trading card craze. Baseball, Pokemon, even the Garbage Pail Kids never floated my boat.

Then patriotism got thrown into the mix with Topps' Operation Enduring Freedom cards and the Pentagon's own visual aid, Iraq's Most Wanted.

I wonder how much an Osama bin Laden would fetch on eBay these days? Oh, silly me: he didn't have one. Maybe if he'd been "important" enough to put on a card, we would have caught him by now?

Finally, the Center for Constitutional Rights has come out with trading cards that are right up my alley. Torture Team cards are available free in packs of 10 for stingy liberals--you know who you are--and cost $5.00 for the complete set of 20. Only 20? A whole lot of deserving folks didn't make the cut.


Buy five packs for $20 and trade them with your friends. My personal favorite is John Yoo, author of the infamous memo which declared the Bush Administration above the law and the Geneva Conventions a fusty relic. He has been punished for his war crimes with a position teaching Constitutional law at Berkeley. I wish I were kidding.

Flip the card over for fun facts such as his answer to the question of whether it would be okay to crush the testicles of a detainee's child: "I think it depends on why the President thinks he needs to do that."

Since he believes torture is limited to intentional infliction of pain equivalent to major organ failure and death, I'm guessing he won't mind if we hang him by his nut sack on live TV. That's got to be more than okay by his definition. We're not even asking him for information. We just want to be entertained. I know I would be. Maybe we could call it, "Ow! My Ball of Rights!"

You Must Re-meme-ber This

Magick Sandwich has received the Superior Scribbler Award. We are honored to receive this award from Skye at Weekly Injection of Chuckles.

I don't usually accept awards that come with strings attached. A meme like this can act like a flu, circling the globe until everyone's got it. After all, when every performance gets a standing ovation, the ovation itself becomes meaningless. On the other hand, I read excellent, funny posts every day that are worthy of recognition. So I am happy to pass this award along.

Though it has the standard requirement of passing it on to five other deserving blogs and linking back to its source, this award also has an interesting backstory, which you can read about at The Scholastic Scribe. Winners are also required to add their names to the site's list of winners.

Without further ado, I give you Magick Sandwich's Cavalcade of Hits:

I Do Things So You Don't Have To

Unfinished Rambler

Dead Rooster

Fracas and

Bee's Musings

If they choose to accept this award, these bloggers must in turn bestow it upon five more bloggers and link back to me and to Scholastic Scribe.

While we're on the subject of great blogs, I'd like to mention two that do not accept awards of this nature and are consistently excellent: Nanny Goats in Panties and Tiggyblog.

Blog long and prosper, everybody!

More good stuff:
Magick Sandwich Blog Roll
Magick Sandwich Awards Page