Humor

Legendary underground comic artist, R. Crumb, who brought Fritz the Cat and Keep on Truckin’ to the world, has a new book due out October 19. Crumb has decided to tackle the Old Testament, more specifically, he’s sending out The Book of Genesis Illustrated by R. Crumb (224 pages, W.W. Norton, $24.95). Working from a King James Bible and Robert Alter’s translation, Crumb will be sharing his take on Creation, Noah and the Flood, Sodoom & Gomorroh, God and more.

The comic artist, who now lives in the south of France, found the experience fun and visual. His publisher, Jonathan Cape, calls the project “scandalous satire” which “presents a complex, even subversive, narrative that calls for a significant re-examination of both the Bible’s content and its role in our culture.”

Black and white drawings from the project will be on display in Los Angeles at the Hammer Museum from October 24, 2009 to February 7, 2010. The exhibit is reported to be traveling, but the list of showplaces has not yet been announced.

Excerpts from the project can be viewed at the New Yorker

I’ve figured it out. I’ve figured it out.

What? Everything. Why everything sucks.

Here’s why. In the 1950s, late ’50s, early ’60s, a bunch of advertising guys got together on Madison Avenue and decided to try to sell products to younger people. We should try to sell to younger people because then they will buy things their whole lives. We’ll try to sell them soft drinks, or bread, or cigars — or whatever the hell they were trying to sell them. It was just an advertising thing, they didn’t mean any harm by it, just a bit of market research.

So they told the television companies, and the movie companies, and the record companies — and everybody started targeting the youth. Because the youth was the place where you were going to be able to sell things.

What happened was, in a strange kind of quirk of fate, youth began to be celebrated by society. This was in a way that it had never been at any time in human history. What used to be celebrated was experience, and cleverness. But what became valuable was youth — and the quality of youth was being a consumer.

I know what you’re thinking, you’re saying “but wait a minute, Craig, in Ancient Greece they deified youth.” No they didn’t. They deified beauty. Different.

What happened is youth became more important and became more important. Society started to turn on its head. Because youth has a byproduct — inexperience. By the nature of youth you don’t have any experience. It’s not your fault. You’re just kind of stupid.

So the deification of youth evolved, and turned into the deification of imbecility. It became fashionable to be young and to be stupid. And that grew, and that grew, and that grew, and now that’s what all the kids want to be. “I just want to be young and stupid!” But you know what? That’s not what you want to be. You do not want to be young and stupid.

Then what happened is that people were frightened to not be young. They started dyeing their hair, they started mutilating their faces and their bodies in order to look young. But you can’t be young forever, that’s against the laws of the universe.

All of these horrible trends, all these terrible movements. Nobody meant it. Nobody meant any harm. But now we’re in this terrible place where we have the f#@%ing Jonas Brothers!

Craig Ferguson is the host of “The Late Late Show” on CBS.

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The afternoon sun shone through the colorful stained glass windows and cast its multicolored glow across the spacious ornate Hall of Justice, which was filled with as many hand-picked loyal citizens as President-for-Life Bick’s agents could find. The agents had done their work well, as usual; the Hall was packed. The low din of the gathering echoed off the marbled walls as the impatient crowd craned their collective necks to look at the raised dais on the far side of the Hall. It was a thrill indeed for the people to catch a glimpse of their Favorite Friend. And to witness history? An honor for all who were present for the occasion. Of course, for those citizens who were not present, for whatever reason, the day was filled with tension and fear. Would Favorite Friend remember my absence? they thought. Would the Ministers not love on them for their failure? These citizens, and they were many, spent the day in quiet terror.

The Official State Orchestra sat on the right side of the dais, their heads even with the bottom of Favorite Friend’s vacant lectern. Only President-for-Life Bick stood above all others; he was, after all, The Favorite Friend of All. The UnderMinister of Fanfare glanced at the back of the dais and received his signal, a nod from the powerful Minister of Propaganda Bubble, unseen by the hopeful masses in attendance. Suddenly, the Orchestra burst into the Official State Theme, and the blaring horns of the music quieted the crowd at last. The people jostled in nervous anticipation.

The fanfare announced the entrance of President-for-Life Bick and his Council of Ministers. At the three-minute mark, with horns still blaring and drums still pounding their ponderous beat, the Ministers filed solemnly in from the back of the dais and took their places at the lower level, above the Orchestra players but well below the lectern.

Minister of Justice Pubberton slid his ample bulk to the lectern and waited for the last notes of the fanfare to play out, smoothing what was left of his dyed brown hair with one pudgy hand. The silent moment having arrived, he leaned forward and shouted into the microphone.

“Father of Nations! Benevolent Friend of All Children! Brilliant Genius of Humanity! Gardener of Human Happiness! Father of Wisdom and Loyalty! Wise Helmsman! Mountain Eagle! The Greatest Genius of All Times! Paragon of Honor! Loyal Master of Justice! Brave Lion of the People! The Most Profound Theoretician! The Titan of the World Revolution! Teacher! Leader! Favorite Friend!”

“CITIZENS: ALL HAIL PRESIDENT-FOR-LIFE BICK AND THE BELOVED MINISTERS!”

The Orchestra burst into music again, this time playing the President’s current favorite entry fanfare. Favorite Friend himself entered, smiling and waving, the Beloved Ministers Bridget and Monty entering happily beside the Great Leader. Their tails wagged energetically; the Beloved Ministers truly loved on their Master.

As if on cue, the crowded assembly burst into excited applause and cheering, camera flashbulbs exploding everywhere. “All Hail Favorite Friend!” “Great Leader!” “All Hail the Mountain Eagle of our Times!” “I love on you Favorite Friend!!” and other variants of the President’s various titles. Unsmiling dark-visaged agents moved among the crowd, their eyes darting rapidly among the citizenry, making sure to jot notes in their ubiquitous black notebooks about any citizen whose enthusiasm seemed to be wanting.

Favorite Friend raised one hand above his head and dropped it suddenly. The music and cheering all stopped. Silence filled the hall as the great leader surveyed the audience. He glanced down at the Beloved Ministers, who never left his side. He petted both in a gesture of warmth. Once again, camera bulbs flashed, recording the scene for posterity. These pictures would find there way onto the front page of the State newspapers so the citizens could see the evidence of the man’s great personal charm and love for all.

The crowd waited expectantly. Many of the younger citizens licked their lips in antipication. Older citizens had blank, smiling expressions on their faces. For this was the day they’d been waiting for. It was National Justice Day in the nation.

Today, Favorite Friend would dispense justice against a terrible enemy of the people.

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President-for-Life Bick presented his stern face to the assemblage as he began his National Justice Day speech.

“Loyal Citizens! Loving friends and children! Today is National Justice Day and today we WILL see justice served,” he began, his hypnotic voice casting its spell over the rapt crowd, which erupted into cheers. A keen observer might have noted that the President’s agents were the first to cheer.

Favorite Friend waited for the cheering to subside before continuing. “Because my friends, because my friends, only through Justice can we embrace honor for the nation and respect for ourselves. And our great nation is nothing without honor and respect, is it not?”

The crowd, again urged on by the agents among them, nodded and murmured their agreement. “Yes Favorite Friend,” “Honor is All!” “Hail Favorite Friend!”

“And so, we must pay heed to the dangerous forces that work to undermine our Golden Community of Friends. And so my children, we must SERVE the interests of Justice, no matter WHERE they lead!”

“SERVE JUSTICE!” cried the people in the Hall, “No matter WHERE!” “I love on Justice!”

“Yes my loyal friends, there are dangerous forces afoot in this Golden Land of ours. Dangerous forces who will stop at NOTHING to see our Glorious Revolution of Love and Honor fail, and in failing, fall into the pit of history’s despair!”

The crowd started to cheer again, but President-for-Life put his hand up to stop the cheering. It stopped.

“My friends, we are most fortunate to have My Beloved Ministers at our service, for it is THEY to whom we must give thanks for today’s Justice!” He gestured, smiling broadly,at the two large dogs sitting patiently at his side. The people cheered anew. They loved on The Beloved Ministers, for they knew the consequences of not loving on them.

“Minister Bridget’s unerring senses and unparalleled loyalty have uncovered a plot, a PLOT! against Your Favorite Friend, and through her vigilance, and that of Minister Monty, we have identified the purveyor of this potential evil, this dread threat against our person and our great glorious nation!”

More cheering erupted. The cheering was loudest where agents stood with black notebooks in hand.

“Loyal nationists, proud and patriotic citizens, I present to you an awful criminal, a wrecker, a person of foul intent and evil mind, and the worst kind of betrayer.” He turned around and nodded his head slightly.

Suddenly, a unit of burly black- and red-clad Personal Guards emerged from behind him, dragging a thin, quivering man dressed in the torn canvas robe of a state prisoner. The prisoner had red scars on his haggard face, and his bent and twisted legs could not carry him. The guards tossed him to the stage next to the lectern, where he fell sprawling and sobbing.

The Beloved Ministers growled at the prisoner. “Stay,” commanded President-for-Life Bick in a quiet voice. The dogs remained motionless but continued to bear their upper fangs at the prisoner.

“BEHOLD THE MASTERMIND OF EVIL!” shouted Favorite Friend, pointing an accusing finger at the frightened prisoner. The people erupted in boos and hisses.

“KILL HIM!” “ DESTROY THE WRECKER!” “TAKE HIM APART!” “LOVE ON JUSTICE!” “HAIL THE MINISTERS!”

“You may recognize this sorry sight in front of you. He is the Former Under Minister of Finance. This awful personage has plotted against us by stealing public funds! He refused to name his confederates and betrayed Our Trust in him. The Beloved Ministers do NOT love on him. I do not love on him. This GREAT AND GLORIOUS NATION OF TRUTH AND HONOR DOES NOT LOVE ON HIM!!!!”

Again, the people cheered their approval of their president and their disapproval of the prisoner. “WE DO NOT LOVE ON HIM!!!”

“And so, my children, we shall see justice served on this holy day. We have judged this wrecker as ALL wreckers must be judged, and have found him wanting. This is Our Special Day! And to commemorate this Holy Occasion of Justice, we have decreed that the Beloved Ministers themselves shall dispense the justice that this offensive creature so richly deserves. Yes my friends,” he continued, his voice rising, “Our Beloved Ministers shall destroy this wrecker, they shall reduce this foul evil to gristle and bone, and we shall all watch with wonder and pride as Justice prevails once again!”

A slight murmur ran through the crowd, but the glare of the agents stifled this impulse, and soon cheers of approval rose to fill the Hall. The President shot a glance of disapproval at his Minister of Honor and Duty, Shmolnick, who nodded in response. He and his agents would be busy on this night.

The former Under Minister of Finance tried to move his ruined body away from the lectern, but the poke of a sharp spear from one of the guards made him wince in pain.

Favorite Friend smiled down at the Ministers, whose drooling grins revealed rows of sharpened fangs, ready to dispense their own brand of justice on the shaking prisoner.

“Pp-please, Favorite Ff-ff-ffriend,” choked the prisoner, “H-have m-m-m-mercy!”

Favorite Friend grinned and spoke to the Beloved Ministers. “Well my Beloved Ministers, what say you? Shall there be mercy on this most glorious of days?”

The two dogs growled.

President-for-Life Bick raised his hands to quiet the crowd, then spoke a single word to his two furry ministers. “KILL,” he commanded.

The two dogs leaped at the prisoner, who held his arms up to protect himself. His screams lasted only seconds; the ministers made short work of him, tearing canvas robe from skin, skin from bone, lips and nose from face, organs from body. Blood spilled all over the stage under the smiling face of the Great and Glorious Harbinger of Truth, Father of Wisdom and Loyalty and Favorite Friend.

The crowd watched in rapt horror, too afraid to look away. The agents in the crowd smiled as the dogs feasted on the prisoner’s remains.

Soon, all that was left of the man was, as Favorite Friend had promised, gristle and bone. He raised his arms up high and shouted, “ALL HAIL NATIONAL JUSTICE DAY!”

The people cheered until they were hoarse.

THE END.

© 2009 Michael S. Cohen

Does it really take millions of dollars from a Hollywood studio to realize that this movie totally sucks balls?  Whomever made the decision to create Bruno should spend eternity with Bruno.  F***ing idiots.

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LOS ANGELES (AP) — The problem with “Bruno” is Bruno himself. Compared to Borat — and it’s impossible to avoid the comparison — there simply isn’t enough to the character to build an entire feature-length film around him.

Both spring from the brash and creative mind of British comic Sacha Baron Cohen, who unleashed them upon the world through his sketch comedy program “Da Ali G Show.” Borat, the bumbling journalist at the center of the 2006 smash “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan,” provided a prism through which to explore people’s prejudices, hypocrisies and foibles. Sure, Baron Cohen frequently shot fish in a barrel, but as Borat traveled across the United States trying to understand what makes us tick, the uncomfortable discoveries he made seemed endless. More importantly, for a comedy, they were usually funny.

Bruno is a one-joke character in a one-joke movie, and it’s a joke Baron Cohen beats into the ground. He’s a flamboyantly gay Austrian fashion correspondent who repeatedly shocks people with his flamboyant gayness. The end.

In small doses — on the TV show and at the film’s high-energy start — he can be a hoot. Here, big laughs come intermittently, and the longer “Bruno” drags on, the more apparent it becomes that there’s nothing to him. He’s as vapid as the celebrity culture he’s stridently spoofing — which makes it hard to care about him.

Another fundamental flaw in “Bruno” is that it’s much more obvious which gags are staged and which are truly spontaneous. Much of the fun in “Borat” came from watching the unpredictability of Baron Cohen’s interactions with regular people, holding our collective breath to see how his unsuspecting victims would react to the awkward and politically incorrect things he did and said. While the structure and intentions of “Bruno” are nearly identical — both films come from director Larry Charles, with Baron Cohen among a team of writers — the supposedly daring moments play out a little too neatly.

What seemed likely when “Bruno” was announced appears to have happened: Baron Cohen is simply too famous to go undercover with his preferred modus operandi.

As the movie begins, Bruno is the host of the Austrian style and pop culture program “Funkyzeit.” He determines what’s in and what’s out, schmoozes with celebs and parades around in a wild array of butt-hugging outfits. But after he crashes the stage of a Milan fashion show, he’s banished from this glittering world. Naturally, he decides to reinvent himself as a superstar in the United States.

So he moves to Los Angeles with his put-upon but worshipful assistant, Lutz (Gustaf Hammarsten), but there isn’t nearly the friction or chemistry Borat shared with his portly prodder, Azamat.

He copies some of the tactics he’s seen other celebrities use to achieve and maintain a place in the spotlight, such as adopting an African baby or making a sex tape — seriously easy pickings. When Bruno undresses and hits on Ron Paul in a hotel room under the guise of interviewing him for a talk show, the former presidential candidate reacts to being ambushed by a stranger the way anyone would — male or female, gay or straight. No real revelations to be found there.

You have to give Baron Cohen credit for keeping a straight face regardless of the silly situation. But at the end, the cameos in a “We Are the World”-style anthem from Elton John, Bono, Snoop Dogg and others confirm what you may have suspected all along: Baron Cohen has become part of the very establishment he’s parodying.

“Bruno,” a Universal Pictures release, is rated R for pervasive strong and crude sexual content, graphic nudity and language. Running time: 88 minutes. One and a half stars out of four.

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Motion Picture Association of America rating definitions:

G — General audiences. All ages admitted.

PG — Parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be suitable for children.

PG-13 — Special parental guidance strongly suggested for children under 13. Some material may be inappropriate for young children.

R — Restricted. Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian.

NC-17 — No one under 17 admitted.

Copyright © 2009 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.

The original, autographed shot of Albert Einstein wagging his tongue at reporters, snapped at Princeton University in 1951, was auctioned this week to a bidder in Long Island, N.Y.

This was the highest price ever paid for a photograph of the legendary theoretical physicist, said Bobby Livingston, who auctioned the original print online Thursday for RRAuction.com, based in Amherst, New Hampshire.

“As soon as we got it, we knew it was something special,” Livingston said. “This incredible man understood the universe more than any of the rest of us, and here he is at this moment, making a joke, like, Â?e is a gas,’ you know?”

The mischief was captured by Arthur Sasse, a UPI photographer, after a party thrown for Einstein at Princeton on his 72nd birthday. When reportedly asked by photographers for a birthday shot, Einstein stuck out his tongue.

The physicist, who loved the photo, later contacted Sasse and requested nine prints for his personal use, according to the auctioneers.

The print that was auctioned this week had been signed and given by Einstein to his friend, CBS and ABC journalist Howard K. Smith, in admiration of his work, Livingston said.

Translated from German, Einstein’s inscription reads, “This gesture you will like, because it is aimed at all of humanity. A civilian can afford to do what no diplomat would dare. Your loyal and grateful listener, A. Einstein”

The seller, a collector in California, had bought the photo from Smith’s estate in 2004, Livingston said. It fetched the highest price of any photograph at the auction house — far above an early, signed Marilyn Monroe shot that sold for $28,000, or a Babe Ruth 1932 World Series photo that went for nearly $30,000, Livingston said.

The winning bidder on the Einstein photo was David Waxman, a rare books and autographs dealer from Long Island, N.Y. He said the photo, much appreciated by his two teenage children, is also a museum-quality piece.

Waxman was “pleased and a bit exhausted” after a determined, all-night battle against two bidders in Paris and Houston for the photo, “an iconic expression of intelligent non-conformity.”

“Einstein is a cultural hero for many people, myself included,” Waxman said. “There’s only one opportunity to acquire a thing like that.”

Julie O’Connor may be reached at (908) 351-7261 or joconnor@starledger.com.

A shocked nation awoke today to the news of over three and a half trillion dollars in Girl Scout cookies have just up and vanished - completely unaccounted for. “We don’t know where they went” parroted a well-groomed Donald Rumsfeld, wiping what appeared to be thin mint residue from his lower lip.

The uproar and panic from both sides of the political fence has yet to fully come to light, but preliminary reports from the GAO (Government Accountability Office) indicate a sinister plot that was in the making for almost 40 years.

“Four decades of careful planning, murdering and bribery”, “you’ll never catch me you wimps” and “Jesus was from Arkansas you idiots - isn’t it obvious?” are excerpts from the 630 page manifesto which was crudely scrawled in Nestle Quik chocolate syrup and delivered unto Donald Rumsfeld by the Archangel Gabriel himself.

“All arms of justice have been extended in an intensive global search for the culprit or culprits behind this heinous and callous act against the Girl Scouts. When caught, I pity da fool who ripped off my shipment of shortbread and samoa coconut caramel cookies. Mmmm, MMMM…just thinking about ‘em makes mah mouth water.” These words of his grisly warning were from a speech that Mr. T. delivered from the Brownie Memorial Garden at the Girl Scouts International Headquarters, location undisclosed in the interest of national security.

“We just knew that Mr. T. was the right man for the job” cried a heartbroken troop on the Today Show. “Letters, well-wishes and donations have been pouring into our regional offices by the truckload - we couldn’t do this without the help and backing of the American people.”

The last time he checked into HQ, Mr. T. alluded that he was hot on the trail of what seemed to be his most promising lead yet. “Some suckah called me up and told me that Jesus told him to steal all the little girl’s cookies and that there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it. With the full cooperation of various telecom corporations, I was able to triangulate a 3 square mile radius of probability, and within that 3 mile radius, with the temporary powers I’ve been granted by the President during this time of war, I’ve dispatched over 10,000 armed personnel with licenses to kill. We’re gonna get you, suckah!”

Mr. T plans on donating his $400,000 a month salary to cancer research and the Jimmy Fund.