Key&Peele, We Did The Teacher’s Draft Already…Circa 2011

While Key and Peele flopped salaries and came at it from the SC angle, Poppycock saw 2011 with impending strikes as a chance to treat top teachers like star athletes with the below transcript from a PBS broadcast of the Educator’s Draft. They did it better, but I can’t help but mention we did it first (damn you, zero production budget). Sure, they went with Radio Music, we went with Kodak, but I feel like we’re splitting hairs at this point.

 

An excerpt:

[Roll VTR]

[ ♪♪]

Jim, narrating:

There is the beautiful sunset on Hollywood Boulevard this Tuesday evening and

a shot of the spectacular Kodak Theater where tonight’s first round draft coverage is looking to have a lot of shake-ups after weeks of speculation. Here from the balcony you can see the goings on as we get ready for the most exciting day of the year for those looking to go pro. This draft day is a big event bringing  stars and celebrities out from all corners of the business. In attendance is Margaret Spellings, who we see here, the former Secretary of Education under George W. Bush. She is best known for bringing us the “No Child Left Behind Act” in 2001, and for having one of the most profession-appropriate names since Chris Moneymaker won the 2003 World Series of Poker. Here we can see two winners of National Teacher of the Year. On the left is 2001 winner Michele Forman and on the right there is the 2010 winner Sarah Brown Wessling; teachers of Social Studies and English respectively. And of course the voice of the 2007 documentary “The War,” the one and only Keith David. 

Jim:

Good evening, and welcome to first round coverage of Educators Draft Day 2014: Lottery for the Future, here at the beautiful and historic Kodak Theater in Hollywood, California. I am Jim Lehrer.

Judy:

And I’m Judy Woodruff. This has been a long awaited day in the world of education and a landmark moment as far as national non-sports unions. Also with us today we have correspondents on the floor and on satellite feed. For interviews with draft picks and prospective schools with a chance at some of our top picks, we have the host of NOVA Science NOW here on PBS, Neil deGrasse Tyson. Neil.

Neil:

Hello Judy, Jim. Very excited to be here. There are some wondrous and amazing discoveries everyday, and these are the most talented professionals on the cutting edge of sharing that information with boys and girls everywhere.

Judy:

Also our guest expert sports draft analyst from ESPN and founder of Kiper Enterprises, Mel Kiper, Jr.

Mel:

Glad to be here, Judy. Been working around the clock and have some exciting last minute Big Board changes in the Top 25 after the last pro days and the teaching combine. We have a lot of talent this year and I think we can expect to see some great teachers in the science fields coming off the board early, going to some middle schools that are in need after some tough finishes the last few years thanks to the standardized testing and the free agency trades that went on just before the Spring Break trade deadline.

Judy:

Finally, with color commentary and reactions from the floor we have our resident Muppet, Elmo. Elmo.

Elmo:

Hello, Elmo’s friend, Miss Judy. Elmo so happy to be here. [laughter] Elmo cannot wait to talk to so many special and smart people. [laughter] Elmo is going to do the best job Elmo can, today. [laughter]

Judy:

I’m sure you will do just fine, Elmo.

Elmo:

[laughter]

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An Open Letter to the Mayans: 12-22-12

Dear Mayans,

Thanks a-fucking-lot. It’s the 22nd of December, and I’m still here. More to the point, we’re all still here. I had planned and prepared to be the only family to survive, but thanks to an apparent world’s end worth of BS, it was all for not.

Thanks in part to the film 2012 and a fair share of verbal diarrhea in Apocalypse Preppers chat rooms, I took it upon myself to be ready for the impending end of the world starting some 18 months ago.

Now I am standing here with my dick in my hands. I thought I had this one right. Not like the Y2K fiasco when I threw out all my electronics for fear of them turning in to world dominating Go-Bots controlled by Skynet, I really planned this one out. I leveraged the equity in my home and applied my last Christmas bonus to build a level three biological bomb shelter. My kids wanted a goddamned pool! There are so many games of “spaceman” you can play in a haz-mat suit before the kids wish they had a frickin’ diving board.

I was ready, but now what am I supposed to do with a 50-gallon drum of tapioca pudding and 500 jars of pickled vegetables. My wife spent three weeks canning asparagus alone! My house wreaked for three months. Not to mention that no family needs 25-pounds of pickled eggs. My kids are going to be taking MRE’s to school in their lunch boxes until they graduate high school.

I sat on my porch in a gas mask with a shotgun for 12 hours yesterday! I quit my job three months ago, borrowed money for supplies from two guys named Tony, all to be ready to survive the end of the world. Now I need to file for unemployment and maybe I can rent out this bomb shelter as a spare bedroom to some hapless community college student. Shit!

I know what you’re thinking, “What a crazy bastard.” Oh, the pickled egg is on my face. I’ll admit that. Sure, I might have liquidated my 401K to buy automatic weapons, an SS-2000-FH air filtration unit, and 12-months of close quarters combat training for a family of five, but I don’t think I went overboard. I might have retained the services of a construction crew for eleven months to build the 3,000 sq. Ft. Underground shelter I am writing this from, but I really think it will help the resale value of our home. It’ll take the right buyer, but once the come along…cha-ching!

I guess there is a silver lining here. I’ll get to watch the Broncos game this weekend. Turns out my friends will not be eaten by zombies/swallowed up by the gnashing jaws of hell spawn/carried off to be cocooned and used to gestate alien offspring under a terraforming cooling tower. It’s not so bad that I’ll get to play cards at Bill’s house next Wednesday, but I don’t think he’ll accept Dinty Moore stew as a buy in; that’s the new cornerstone of my diversified, post-non-apocalypse portfolio.

I’m not saying I wanted the world to end, but it might have been nice for a little payoff this time around. Maybe it didn’t even need to end. A good round of biblical plagues would have sufficed; I’ve got three girls, so I wouldn’t have minded. Maybe a decent battle between heaven and hell at a roadside oasis featuring Gabriel and the next savior of humanity. Would have even done with a nuclear firefight or a tremendous earthquake. I was even ready for an outbreak of almost any disease imaginable. I really wasn’t prepared for a flood, but otherwise I might have appreciated something.

I guess we’ll get back to normal…again. Need to do some Christmas shopping, I guess. I’ll RSVP to my mother-in-law’s Christmas Eve Mass. She is never going to stop passively needling me about the week I locked her daughter in a sensory deprivation tank to simulate the world in the event of the sun dying. This is gonna be tough. It took almost two years to buy all new electronics after Y2K. This time, I just need to see if the Army has any need for surplus food, or if FEMA can give me a tax credit for donating 600-pounds of freeze-dried coffee. Also, if you’re looking for a place to live in the Denver area, spacious three bedroom underground shelter. VERY clean. All utilities included. $950 for a room. $1,150 for the master suit. No smoking. No pets. Email: SeeUInHELLSuckers69@yahoo.com

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Two Dead, Wolf Blitzer to Blame

 

 

Reports say two college seniors have been pronounced dead of alcohol poisoning after an election day drinking game spun out of control.

Two Fi Beta Cappa fraternity brothers were playing a drinking game while watching election results in the fraternity house Tuesday evening. The names of the two seniors have not been revealed, but witnesses report that the two students had committed themselves to taking a drink every time they heard Wolf Blitzer say a predetermined list of words.

The two seniors were political science majors and were set to graduate in the spring. It is unclear yet how much they had to drink, but one witness is quoted as saying, “They were going at it like crazy. They had about 20 words up there on the board and had like five cases of beer and a couple of bottles of tequila. They had to do shots when anyone said the phrase ‘too close to call.’ It was [expletive] insane.”

This is not the first time that an incident like this has occurred. During election night in 2008, three students were hospitalized with alcohol poisoning after deciding to drink as long as a news correspondent was standing in the middle of a 3D rendering of statistical information. All three students recovered in that case.

Reached for comment, the president of the college remarked that, “If this is what young people consider ‘getting involved in politics’ is supposed to be, then we’re all doomed.”

No word yet if the school will investigate the safety of the fraternity in question, but one freshman rushing the fraternity who asked his identity be withheld said, “I didn’t think this is what I was getting myself into. I might not even want to be in this house. [Expletive], I’m an independent for God’s sake.”

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Taking Political Shots

One local watering hole in Ohio is rewarding voters with the only thing that makes politics bearable: shots!

Big Billy Bob Jim’s BBQ Pit in Columbus is selling candidate themed shots for every person that comes in to the restaurant wearing the quintessential “I Voted” stickers all day as a promotion to get people in the swing state to get out and vote Tuesday November 6th.

restaurateur and namesake, William “Billy Bob” Jim has been doing this for the last forty years with his election day blitzer.

“Every presidential election I set my crack bar staff to create a specialty shot for each of the candidates. It’s actually a pretty serious competition that comes with a trophy.” Says Billy Bob with pride.

This year’s winner of the employee competition was Michelle Stephens. She designed two drinks for patrons to come and a shoot. This year’s drinks? The Obama Slammer and the Romnesiac.

Michelle describes her inspiration: “Well, the Obama Slammer is basically an Alabama Slammer. Instead of SoCo we use dark rum and instead of sweet and sour we just use limes for the sour. Get it? Dark? And we’re all a little sour on him? OK, and the Romnesiac is basically a Brain Eraser. We use the Goldschlager cause it’s got gold, use the Kahlua and we make sure to use vanilla vodka ‘cause he’s so boring. Then we just serve it with a coke back. Get it, because of how he knows the Coke brothers? Well, I thought it was clever.”

Voters are asked to choose the shot that corresponds with the candidate for whom they voted. That’s what they get to drink for just $1 all day. Along with the one-of-a-kind drinks the BBQ pit offers a happy hour from open to close and complete campaign coverage on the TV’s in the bar.

The event has come with it’s fair share of problems in the past the Billy Bob is prepared for. In the past there have been numerous bar fights, one stabbing; and on one occasion, some well-written legislature that still hangs famed behind the bar. The series of cocktail napkins behind glass outline the idea that congressional salaries should be replaced by an incentive program to avoid inactivity and limit feet-dragging in voting on bills up for a vote.

Billy Bob is expecting some 900 people to pass through the bar for their particular political shot on the day. He expects to also sell nearly 5,000 of his famous pulled pork sliders to patrons throughout the evening as a new president is declared.

“Well, here at the Pit we wanna turn a potentially boring and infuriating day in to something fun. I wanna reward people who exercise their rights to vote. Why does this have to be boring? I wanna throw a party. You can’t spell democratic and republican party without ‘party,’ right?”

In addition to drinks and food, the Pit offers patrons the chance to enter their local voting pool. Patrons decide whether any number of measures will pass or fail. The winner who gets the most guesses correct gets a t-shirt, a gift card, and their picture behind the bar as “Big Billy Bob Jim’s resident asshole you don’t want to start a conversation with.”

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74-Year Old Man Killed by Spear Chucker…It’s Not What You Think.

In Germany, on Monday, a sports official was tragically killed. He was killed by a 15-year old kid. He was killed with a javelin. Damn…how does this not happen more often!?

Javelin is not a sport. Javelin, or “spear chucking,” (does anyone see the irony of a white guy being called a “spear chucker” without a racial overtone? I giggled a bit myself) is just a celebration of what Cro-Magnon hunter/gatherers did to survive. This is how I feel about most Olympic sports, actually. Swimming is what you do to keep from drowning. Running is what you do to either outrun a serial killer or catch an ice cream truck. Frankly, all track and field sports are derived from some aspect of the prehistoric man’s daily life.

Is it any wonder that someone was injured in a spear throwing contest? A pubescent German was given a spear and told to throw it as hard and as far as he could. A judge stood downfield to measure distance. Not from the safety of a booth, or being behind the thrower, but within striking distance. So, he got struck. In the throat. He died.

What the hell was he doing that he got hit by a spear? Those things don’t break the sound barrier. You can see that shit coming. What was an 74-year old man doing judging a javelin competition anyway? That’s retirement age and he’s out the getting spears thrown at him? I would think that if they needed a “veteran” judge for a youth competition, he would remember the old adage we applied to baseball, “Keep your eye on the spear at all times.”

I can only feel so bad for everyone involved. A child was given a sharp stick and a man stood close enough to be hit by it. This is like the YouTube videos when dads stand behind children swinging a bat and take one to the testicles; I just have to laugh a little. You had that coming.

We have technology that measures the distance of a home run. We have technology for slow motion replays. Hell, we’ve had binoculars for a long time. Why are people still standing downfield? This is like an official at a sharpshooting competition standing next to a target to judge a shooter’s score…while he’s still shooting!

The fact that javelin is still around in its current form is the same as if we hadn’t put the kibosh on lawn darts. “Hey, stand behind a circle across from your friends and throw giant, metal darts as close to them as you can for points!” Yeah, we saw the light on this one after a couple of kids took a dart to the torso…Oh, but javelin is an Olympic sport. If a baby got killed by a discus we’d be up in arms over the safety. Javelin kills an old man? Not up for debate.

Unfortunately, this 15-year old kid is fucked. His career is over. He has to live with the memory of that day he killed a 74-year old German with a spear. That’s a tough road to hoe, and no amount of schnitzel makes that shame any more palatable.

I know it’s all tragic, but this judge wasn’t killed when he took a gymnastics ribbon stick to the eye during an especially vigorous routine; this wasn’t a shocking, freak accident. This was the odds proving out. He was hit by a spear that was thrown at him while standing in an area known for its heavy spear traffic. He was a 74-year old javelin judge. That’s house money if I’ve ever heard of it.

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CMT Loves Rednecks, Y’all

Music television used to just be about the music. When I was a kid VH1, MTV, and CMT just played music and music-related programming on the air. Now you’ve got to be up at 6am to watch an hour of videos if you want to see a dying genre of production. Sure, there is the top 10 countdowns, but none of that is in primetime; it’s running against daytime talk shows and soaps.

I can’t stand much of the programming on the so-called music networks, but I have to say that CMT is the worst offender in it’s programming line-up. Is it enough that it’s reality television? No, apparently it needs to be racist, too.

I can’t spell her name right, but damned if I’m not pulling off this badass hat.

Enter: Rednecks.

They seem to be all the rage now, especially on CMT. Shows like Bayou Billionaires, My Redneck Vacation, and Redneck Island are leading the CMT drive against having to play a ratings loser like music videos. To add to the identity crisis that CMT is enduring is the regular screening of films that belt buckling wearing, ten-gallon hat loving, urban cowboy wannabes might love. OK, your audience is responding to  back-water inbreds surviving on an island, fine, but you think that same fan base is catered to appropriately when you screen a film like A Few Good Men not an hour later? Who’s on your marketing staff, Elmer Fudd?

A little SAT association: BET is to black people what CMT is to _______. The answer is: White people. It’s the cracker network. It’s the home of the honky. It’s where whitey gets his news (that and FOX News).

CMT putting out programming glorifying rednecks would be like if BET green-lighted shows titled Niggas be Trippin’ or Niggas Survivin’ on an Island and Shit.

CMT, you’ve got to get your act together. This is racist stuff. I’m not offended, but if there is a single minority on the staff of these shows then I might be a little pissed. Redneck is our word for each other. You can’t say that, Jose.

As much as I would love to put all rednecks on an island and watch them form a government where elections are decided by bull riding, everyone drives a stock car, and the currency is beef jerky (they tried that once, it was called the Republic of Texas), it doesn’t make for very good programming. If it was good television, I might be inclined to show some compassion, but it’s bad TV, too.

I guess you know your demographic better than I do, but you need to go for the gusto and add programs like Moonshinin’ with Leonard and Double-wide Dynasties. Start screening films like Deliverance and The Deer Hunter. Those are your options, because I know you’re sure as hell not going to play more music, Country Music Television, or drop the pretenses and change CMT to Cracker Made TV. There’s no diversity on your channel, so why not just embrace your race. What? BET did it, ya hear now.

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Match.com Puts “Dating” Back in Online Dating with Stir Events

Match.com and eHarmony have always done battle amongst themselves and with the lot of digital matchmakers out there. Turning Facebook stalking and “Caribbean Vacation 2012” photo album trolling into a profitable business model, the plethora of dating sites are always looking for a marketing leg up on one another. However, Match.com in it’s haste to get one over on the other guy, jumped the shark and innovated itself into obsoleteness by introducing a new and exciting feature which represents the bane that drove people to their site in the first place: Meeting strangers.

“I’m having a hard time meeting people. I’m tired of the bar scene and forced social situations. I’ve turned to online dating because I’m too busy to sift through people that aren’t right for me. I’m looking for a better way to vet my potential mates from the comfort of my iPhone on lunch break and during Big Brother commercial breaks. I’ve joined Match.com to help in my search for the right person and to stop wasting time at a bar or in community college cooking classes.” First thing Match.com suggests? Attend a Stir event! Get out there and meet somebody!

What? Match.com has entered the Möbius “marketing” strip of logic. I joined Match.com to stop doing that. Didn’t you see everything I just listed? I don’t have the time or the energy to attend an art gallery exhibit, go cosmic bowling, or hang out at a bar on a Thursday night. I don’t want to mingle awkwardly, competing for female attention with a bunch of bros doing their best peacock impressions. I was tired or blind dates set up by my self-proclaimed matchmaker of a best friend, Karen, who never seems to be short on friends wearing cat dander sweaters smelling of maternal desperation and homemade potpourri. So, I paid the monthly fee. I meticulously crafted my profile to spin the reality of the slob that I am. I strategically answered the questionnaire to attract someone that’s too good for me. The software spit out my matches, and now you want me to get off the site and get back out there? WTF, Match.com?

What you’ve done would genius if it weren’t so stupid. Match.com, you’ve asked your members who were tired of the dating scene and pay you good money to match them online, to log off and jump back in the dating pool. You’ve turned the thing they loathe doing into a marketing ploy, and sold it back to them at a premium. What the hell do I need you for if all you do is send me on group blind dates? Thanks, but I have Karen for that and she doesn’t charge a monthly fee for the torment.

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