WHTP salutes...

The baddest mother fucker to ever walk the earth. If we at WHTP haven't made our love for you clear, let us do it now. To four years in the free world...

The Week That Was 12/18

- I have never been so worried about one of my teams when their 11-3 as I am about the Giants. That is partially because I've never been a fan of an 11-3 team before, and partially because they have looked embarrassingly miserable these last two games. The G have derailed the hope train and better get it back on track this Sunday. LETS GO G!

- Did anyone see the play in the Giants Cowboys game when Tuck sacked Romo in the end zone for a safety? The offensive line didn't even move when the ball was snapped. I guess they didn't know the snap count for the 'Witten TE Fly' play call. That's why secret plays never work, miscommunications.

- I wish I was in the meeting when Vince Vaughn and his agent got together at the peak of his career and decided it was time to transition into Tim Allen mode and only make Christmas movies. Great career choice, it worked wonders for Tim the Tool Man. I'm sure the "Four Christmases" script was a cant pass up opportunity, but come on. Now both stars of Wedding Crashers have tried to commit suicide, career or otherwise.

- The New York Mets realized that they were the only big money team that was trying to sign K-Rod and they skimmed around $20 million off the projected deal. The Yankees realized they were the only big money team that was going after C.C. Sabathia and they added 20 million to the projected deal. How Brain Cashman keeps his job is beyond me…

- How do you even go about calling a secret play in the huddle? "All right guys, were running the deep post to T.O." (winks at Witten, gives him that gay, smug Romo grin)...

- I was talking with a fellow '3-man Weave' mind who claimed that he was at the game when A-Rod hit his 500th homer and he didn't even clap. As a matter of fact, he booed. This gets to the core of my argument that A-Rod is in the biggest lose-lose situation ever and that Yankee fans doom themselves by mistreating their sensitive star. And, while we are on the Yankees, how is the Red Sox/Yanks rivalry real when the Yankees may sign Manny and own 2/3s of the first WS champion Red Sox outfield. Aren't you supposed to despise your enemies, not embrace them?

- If T.O. is Truman Burbank, and Romo is Marlon, does that make Jerry Jones Christof?
(Sitting on the docks drinking a six pack) :
Romo: "The last thing I would ever do, is lie to you... I mean think about it, Terrell. (cut to: Jerry Jones with the headset, reciting the dialogue in his ear.) " If everybody is in on it. Then I'd have to be in on it too."(T.O. holds back tears, emotions are intense)…

- Bills back-up and former face of the franchise J.P. Losman is funny to me. Hes like the ghost of what Eli almost was. But then, of course, Eli turned into a Superbowl Champion.

- The Giants, who last year sent 1 player the Pro Bowl (and won the Superbowl), sent 6 this year. Eli finally got there, which is great. We also sent both our punter and our field goal kicker which is great because, as they say, kicking wins championships.

P-Bo

REQUIEM FOR THE 2008 BUFFALO BILLS SEASON

Today, I watched the end of a movie during the first quarter of the Buffalo Bills game. If you had told me during the beginning of the year, when I was salivating for Bills preseason games, that I would skip over the first quarter of any game I would have kicked my own ass. But there I was, watching the end of The Lives of Others (Highly recommended by the way, incredible flick) while J.P. Losman was praying for fifty-yard bombs and hand-offs just a remote click away. Last week, hope was dead. Today, the season was.

This Requiem has five parts.



Part 1: Ralph Wilson.
- Not only did you say your team has no talent just a few weeks ago (You own the team, dicksmack!) when pressed by reporters about yesterday’s results you had enough heart for a joke: A small group of reporters asked 90-year-old Bills owner Ralph Wilson how Sunday's game might affect Jauron's job. "I think I should get back into the insurance business!" Wilson replied. Hey Ralph, you know what type of insurance you should invest in? Pant insurance, you big ole’ pant pooper. What happened to your comments about talent when the team was 5-1? Stop acting like you already sold us off to the Canucks, Benedict Arnold bastard.



Part 2: The Android that is Dick Jauron.
I truly believe the only thing that can alter Dick Jauron’s emotional landscape is the glee he feels at the end of the season. This guy’s more excited for January than George Bush. If you ran a slide show of Dick Jauron’s reactions to major historical events you would think the planet has been stuck in nuclear oblivion for the past forty years. He’s like the guy in Saving Private Ryan who gets his arm blown off, picks it up nonchalantly, and walks away. The scariest part about Dick’s frozen face is that he constantly looks more confused about play choice than the fans do.
Truth is, I shouldn’t be complaining, because when he does attempt a smile…



IT’S THE SCARIEST THING EVER. I’d rather be stuck in a room with the melting man from RoboCop than this creep smiling.

You know what else is scary, looking like you’ve had ten hours of sleep before every single game. Hey Dick, ever heard of watching tape, studying up on your opponents, or cutting back on sleep to prep for a big game? Or does that get in the way of your freshmen incollege ten hour a night sleep shift.


Part 3: JP Losman
- I probably shouldn’t put that much emphasis on JP, after all, if Trent had stayed healthy he’d still be that douche on the sidelines trying to look engaged. But it blows my mind that the man is only able to convert completions of forty plus yards. It might have to do with his habit of sneering, “chicks dig the long ball” before he heaves up another pile of shit. The only reason the long ball works with JP is because it puts the play in somebody else’s hand. I’ve seen him throw too many passes with his eyes clinched and arm slung all the way back to believe he has anything to do with those Lee Evans bombs besides putting it out there.

Part 4: Trent Edwards
- Trent Edwards is like a beautiful woman made of ice. The more I embrace him, the more he fades away.

Part 5: Marshawn Lynch and Freddy Jackson
- You’d be hard pressed to find anybody that works as hard as this running duo. I like that Marshawn did one of those “Hey, it’s my fault that the offense sucks” when he’s been doing just about everything. A lot of people have a hard time giving Marshawn the credit he deserves as a preeminent talent in the NFL, and it might have to do with this. But the days of denying Beast Mode are over, he’s here to stay. Like all fine requiems, these two are the glimmer of hope that suggest an afterlife.

Favorite moments of the game –
- 1)Fred Jackson running through 4 (literally) jets Defensive players into the endzone and making me feel bad for watching the end of a movie during the first quarter. 2) Shaun Ellis scooping up JP’s fumble when we were throwing on 2nd down with the lead and 3 minutes left? 3) Coming back on the field pass happy again so that JP can throw another interception 4) or JP’s 70 yard interception, a bomb in the endzone to nobody, beautifully summing up his career. Of course all of this won’t matter as soon as I look up JP post game footage and get to listen to his hilarious voice.


There are a few things I’m sure of regarding this season –

- Dick Jauron already has tickets for opening night of “Bedtime Stories.”

- If there’s anything that has pained me more than the Bills play during games this season it’s commercials for The Mentalist, a one hour crime drama on CBS that distinguishes itself from the 14 other CBS one hour crime dramas with a sneering blonde douche bag star who might, or might not, use psychic powers to solve mysteries! I bet there’s a wild back-story to why he’s decided to use his psychic powers for the good of the local police department. What? You don’t say! His family was murdered, and he’s seeking justice! How clever! Seriously that premise is one notch above porn, which is where this actor should be in the first place. A word of advice Mentalist, anybody can lean over burned bodies, say “must’ve read the wrong recipe” and have it come across as sarcastic.
I hate actors, in fact I consider them the least intelligent people in the world, and the NFL provides great justification for this way of thinking, observe. Who are the dumbest people in NFL history: Terry Bradshaw, Tony Siragusa, and O.J. Simpson. What do they all have in common, they’ve had “professional” acting gigs in movies (rumor has it Bradshaw was reluctant to join the cast of the Sarah Jessica Parker vehicle “Failure to Launch” because he was nervous about working with his child hood idol, Mr. Ed (AYOO!). When everybody was so shocked O.J. killed his ex wife and that other guy (wasn’t he an actor too? Probably, he was dumb enough to fuck with O.J.) I wasn’t that amazed. He was a star in a game that’s based on violence, and some of that attitude, especially with unintelligent people, probably carries over into real life. But watch O.J. save the lives of hundreds of babies in the beginning of Naked Gun 33 1/3 and you will praise Johnnie Cochran as the Saint of Justice. Guess what TO said he wanted to be if he wasn’t in the NFL, an actor.
Oh yeah, back to CBS and The Mentalist, another reason I’m so pissed about it is that it topped the weekly Nielson Ratings recently. That’s right America, you’ve made a show with the description “A mentalist turned private investigator uses his skills to help the police,” the most popular show in the country. I suppose it could be worse.


- This years Dallas Cowboys team could be the most unlikable team in the history of sports. I'd root for a team made up of Michael Vick’s family members over Romo and co. The best part about this whole “Witten and Romo are best friends and make plays for each other in secret away from T.O.” story is that I couldn’t have come up with it in my most audacious and exaggerated insults.

-Bill's fans are still the best in the NFL for putting up with this shit, again.

By the way, guy on the preowned BMW commercial who makes his daughter’s boyfriend/fiancé/husband figure sleep in the attic. Consider this, if he wasn’t dating your daughter he’d probably have enough money to buy a new BMW and not have to settle for that pre-owned shit, destroying your friendly argument that sends him to a separate room in the first place.

But anyways its unfortunately that time of the year for me, when I have to put my interest towards other NFL games because my team is “mathematically eliminated from the playoffs” for the ninth season in a row. Does it suck? Of Course. Am I used to it? Yeah, but not like this. A 5-1 start followed by a 1-7 streak is like getting food poisoning from the best steak you’ve ever had.

But, I’m a Bills fan. I’ll eat that shit every year.

Introducing the PBO Diggs and WHTP's The Week That Was

Introducing Pbo Diggs, the newest member of What Happened to Pride. He'll be running a weekly column, "The Week That Was" recapping all sorts of sports news. You can check out his blog at Short Shorts and Weak Pros. And ignore his defense of Plax, he's a Giant's fan; they're numb after years of supporting retardation.

The Week that Was... -Unless you've been living under a rock for the past five days you've heard that Plaxico Burress, New York Giant WR, shot himself in the leg this weekend at a Manhattan Club. Now, this story has been on the Daily Show, The Colbert Report and every other program known to man, so I won't get into how he was sporting sweatpants at the club, or that he may have fucked the Giants' Superbowl hopes and tarnished the reputation of stand-up middle linebacker Antonio Pierce etc… All I want to say is this: How can you go to jail for three years for shooting yourself? Isn't the trauma of nearly shooting your dick off punishment enough? Listen, Plax is a retard, he should have gotten a permit, hired a bodyguard or just not carried a gun, but he doesn't deserve to get his life ruined because he over estimated the strength of the elastic band in his sweatpants. I wonder if those were team issue?

- --- -The Braves got Javier Vasquez yesterday. Bug Selig may need to step in if they keep this up or the rest of the NL East may just forfeit. Sweet offseason moves, Braves. In a similar move, the Astros signed 1998's own, Mike Hampton. Contention, here they come!

- --- -Is Matt Ryan's rookie season better than any season Mike Vick ever had in his entire career? 90% of the league would come to terms with a few hung, beaten and drowned dogs if they could void the huge contract of an overrated player and upgrade the position. The only easier out for a team would be something ridiculous, like a self inflicted gunshot wound.

- - -- I went to my first Knicks game yesterday. We lost. There were two foreign gentleman sitting in front of us watching there first basketball game. These guys didn't understand the game well, and asked us at one point what we were saying during the "De-Fense" chant. We explained, and for the rest of the day they chanted it at all possible times. This marks the first time someone has gone to a Mike D'Antoni game and come away learning about Defense.

- - -- T-Mac is out three weeks with some knee issue that is probably going to lead to a re-aggravation of his back. I love T-Mac but he is like Grant Hill with osteoporosis. It's hard to win that allusive first playoff series when you're always the 6^th or 7^th seed because you miss 30 games a year. With that said, his team has a 26% winning percentage when he is injured, so all those people who say he is overrated, you're wrong.

- --- -The Big East has 8 teams in the top 25. That makes them the best conference is sports right now. I'm calling 'Cuse v. UConn in the National Title Game, which will be a rematch of the Big East Championship. You heard it hear first.

- --- -I know the economy is rough, so all I want for Christmas is "12 Play 4^th Quarter," the new album by R. Kelly. His first single "Hair Braider" really speaks to me.

“It’s Important to Have Standards” – The WHTP Critic Comparison Chart.

You would think, if you were a critic, the perfect score (10/10 or ****/****) would be your most valuable and sparsely used weapon. A blow to the American public that tells them “I know you don’t listen to a fucking word I say, ever, but please just this one time go see this movie/buy this album/watch this TV show.” However most critics take the perfect score and slab it on shit they merely enjoy (Roger Ebert recently became the king of this.)

In giving movies like “Iron Man” a perfect **** star review a critic fails to understand they are labeling something as up to par with flicks like “Goodfellas,” “Apocalypse Now,” “The Graduate,” and other untouchable masterpieces. That is what the perfect score is made for, untouchable masterpieces. WHTP has put together a list in an effort to clear the confusion caused by these brainless dick swappers. I am fairly confident this list expresses a ratings system the way it should be: with a five leaving you feeling the same way you felt before, a one leaving you pondering suicide, and a ten with a touch of heavenly perfection.

10- Being a professional baseball player or rock star (pending band). Beautiful women. Having your team win their respective championship. After winning the lottery you take a permanent honeymoon with a horned up Scarlet Johansson, in the Greek Isles, with an open bar on wheels following you every step of the way.
9- Having a Personal Chef. The ability to come up with Zach Morris like schemes. Rock and Roll. The end of “Thunder Road.” Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate. Anything BYOB. Kurt Vonnegut. Being Urkel and turning into Stefan. March Madness. Tailgating and going to your NFL or College Football teams game, live. College.
8- Christmas Eve/Christmas Morning. Lakes and the Ocean. Bokonism. Weed. The McFly children reappearing in their portrait. NFL Sundays. The Jeremy Shockey early celebration video. NHL ’93. Grilling, fireworks, or a bonfire with The Band playing in the background. A hungover steak and eggs session. Gob Bluth magic shows. Six game parlays that cost one dollar and pay out at 500k plus. Sports in October. Chicks on Halloween. Saturday 3:55 pm baseball games via bleachers. The Rocky Mountains.
7- Pools. Waking up and realizing you can sleep for five more hours (If you set your alarm for three in the morning to feel this way, like I do, it drops to a 6.5) A cool Dr. Money haircut. Pizza, Bar-be-que, and meatball or chicken parm sandwiches. Opening day of Baseball. Two eggs any style with your choice of ham, bacon, or sausage with potatoes and toast. The Colbert Report. Betting on Baseball. Fantasy baseball or football. Hot Wings and Pitchers.
6- NBA JAM Tournament Edition. The Olympics. Seinfeld repeats. Budweiser. Trampolines. Spaghetti. The dollar menu - and the influx of dollar priced fast food it has spawned. Texas Hold’em. The designated hitter. Cash. Charles Barkley. Ballpark food.
5- A plain sandwich. Natural Light. Salsa-less tortilla chips. The Honda Accord. “Classic Rock” radio. Scratch offs. Ice or water. Mets, Marlins, Vikings, or Chiefs fans. Minor league sports.
4- Men who wear hair product. Good movies on cable with commercials and edited profanity. Mowing the lawn. Beaster. News about Brett Favre. Hitting on a girl taller than you. Charlotte Bobcats Basketball games.
3- Stomp: The Musical and its counterparts. A concert by that band who sings “Sex and Candy,” or a concert by the band who sings “Would you still call me Superman,” or whatever the fuck it’s called. Emo’s. People under twenty five who talk about “the global markeplace.” Men who don’t talk about sports. Smalls from The Sandlot. Mark Cuban if not working on a computer. Manu Ginobili and the whole flopping in sports dilemma. Straight to video movies not featuring Steven Seagul. Having Rex Grossman as your quarterback. Reality TV Contests. Above ground pools. Having your team lose in the playoffs. Verne Troyer.
2- Soundtracks with dialogue in between songs (i.e. “Secret Garden” by Bruce Springsteen off the Jerry Maguire Soundtrack.) Using LOL as common vernacular. Dane Cook. Being Stefan and turning into Urkel. Serious grinders. Men who tan. Any host of ESPN’s “First and Ten.” Douche bags with hot chicks. Frosted Tips. Not fulfilling a woman the first time (“So do you want to do it again?” -Girl “Yeah, sorry, give me like five to ten minutes..”-me) Having your team miss the playoffs. Alex Rodriguez. Things you like, breaking. Any professional athlete who demands a new contract.
1- Being on the receiving end of a JP Losman sexually transmitted disease. Jonathon Papelbon. This situation: Being locked in a gym with an eight ball inspired Mike Tyson after he watched you bang his girlfriend, or vice versa. Four Super Bowls, Zero Wins.

Sexual Tension in the Workplace

Well college grads, it looks like it’s about that time in our lives. That Four Year Party they call “college” has run out of beer and it’s time for us to leave the bar (with some pussy obviously). So now we’re all living at home, smoking a shit ton of weed, listening to MGMT, eating chicken tenders, and banging high school chicks like its 2001 all over again (pre-9/11). Drink it in, my friends – literally – because it won’t last forever. Those cockslaps they call “jobs” are right around the corner.

Now personally, I’m not too worried about the transition to the workforce. I’ll be so high all the time I won’t even know I’m there. But there is one thing I’m worried about, and that’s the pussy. No, I’m not concerned about whether or not I’m gonna get any, fuck you for even suggesting I won’t spread my shit all OVER the fucking cubicles, I’m simply unsure about the proper workplace etiquette when it comes to laying my nut down. In The Office, for example, they make Pam and Jim sign some kind of a contract when they start fucking, and we know this is out of the question (after all I’m an environmentalist and don’t wanna be chopping down the trees they’ll need to print the PLETHORA of contracts I’ll be signing to facilitate my nut).

So what to do? Luckily, while watching the show I turn to for answers to all of life’s problems – Entourage – I came across an answer. Allow me to set the scene: Vince and E had just met their SMOKING hot new agent Amanda for drinks at some sick-looking L.A. establishment to discuss a script Amanda had given Vince. While Vince had initially approved of the script, he now tells Amanda that he didn’t like it. “Why weren’t you honest with me earlier?” Amanda asked Vince. “Because you were so cute” when you pitched us the script, Vince responded, and “it’s hard to say no” to you when you look “so cute”, etc., Vince said. Amanda was obviously disappointed at Vince’s change of heart, and the meeting ended tensely.

Later on, when the boys were chilling at the nasty pad they had bought a few episodes earlier, E asked Vince about whether or not he wanted to fuck Amanda. Vince gave some answer like “she’s my agent” and it’d be “unprofessional” to fuck her or some shit like that, but even though his answer was a “no”, I’ve come to know the sly little Vince well enough over the years to think that he really meant “yes”. Then, right at that moment, right as they were talking about her, who else but Amanda calls Vince on his cell:

AMANDA (calling from car): Vince, do you want to fuck me?
VINCE (confused): Uh, I, uh, what?
AMANDA: Do you want to fuck me?
VINCE (baffled): Uh, I, uh, NO, I mean … you’re my agent.
AMANDA: No?
VINCE (bewildered): Well … I mean, yea, uh, sure, well, I, uh … maybe.
AMANDA: Vince, I hate sexual tension. It’s bad for business. It’s usually better just to get it out of the way.
VINCE (bemused): Well what do you suggest we do?
AMANDA: Well, I think we should fuck each other’s brains out, and never talk about it again.
VINCE (vulnerably happy): Uh, yeah, uh … that could work.
AMANDA: Great. Say my place, 20 minutes?
VINCE: Sounds good.

Tension shmension, mother fuckers. As seen here, be a pimp and shit will be alright. Let’s apply the Vincent Chase Tactic to a situation in a typical office setting:

HOT BOSS: Theriot, where’s that report I told you to put on my desk?
ME: Well, I think we should fuck each other’s brains out, and never talk about it again.
HOT BOSS: Yeah, that could work.
ME: My cubicle, five minutes.
HOT BOSS: Sounds good.

Will work and pussy mix? Like a fine cocktail, my friends. Like a fine cocktail.


- Theriot

Coldplay - Viva La Innovation

ON A RAINY LONDON evening last January, perched high above the wet and crowded city streets in his 30th floor Trafalgar Square loft, Chris Martin takes a sip of espresso and stares helplessly at his computer screen. He’s having problems with a sequence from “Lost!”, a dynamite track on his band Coldplay’s recently-released disc, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends. Martin can’t decide whether he likes a certain guitar riff a minute into the track; there’s also the issue of the bass drum sounding too cluttered, and the violins sounding flat. Martin sighs and takes another sip of espresso. He has been analyzing the same fifteen second sequence for almost three hours.

Martin turns to his young daughter, Apple, playing with a toy across the room. He smiles faintly. “Look at her,” he says to me. “She’s more precious than gold.”

***

One could certainly say that again. Though there is something else to which you could apply Martin’s loving description of his daughter as superior to gold, something perhaps even more beautiful, more breathtaking, and more precious – and I’m not referring to his darling celebrity wife, Gwenyth. Viva la Vida, Coldplay’s fourth studio album, is without a doubt its most tickling to date.

The brilliant la Vida serves to usher in a different kind of Coldplay. Liberated from their self-imposed pressure to innovate, they sound – for the first time in ages – user-friendly. It’s true that we’ve come to expect a certain level of genius from this band, but when they actually exceed expectations, as they do here, it’s a clear sign that Coldplay will continue to reinvent themselves and drop more jaws along the way.

This album feels not so much as a statement of where the band has come from, but more of where they’re going. It feels big, open, and alone, like you are listening in on something you shouldn’t hear. All of it rocks; none of it sounds like any other band on earth. It delivers an emotional punch that proves all other rock stars owe Coldplay an apology.

The most heartening thing about Viva la Vida, besides the fact that it may represent the strongest collection of songs assembled by any English band over the past decade, is that it ventures into new emotional territories. On the record, Martin soulfully attempts to come to grips with the suckling insecurity that accompanies worldwide fame – and he uses some slick water metaphors to express it: “You might be a big fish in a little pond/Doesn’t mean you’ve won”, he croons on “Lost!”. Martin conveys longing feelings for loved ones on a handful of tracks, presumably for his wife Gwenyth, though possibly for his children, Apple and Moses, or other relatives. On the ballad “Strawberry Swing”, he throws his convictions about the sky to the wayside, all in the name of love: “Could be blue/I don’t mind/without you it’s a waste of time/Could be blue/could be grey/without you I’m just miles away”.

Maybe Viva la Vida is Martin’s life – settling into things, creating permanence. If so, we may miss the anger and the striving and the discovery that comes as a result (think X & Y). But for now, we can enjoy the beauty of Martin understanding his identity and the craftsmanship that lies in comfort. This album proves itself to be what we all thought Coldplay couldn’t make again: a masterpiece. And thank goodness the bass drum isn't cluttered.

-Theriot

R. Kelly Acquitted on All Counts.

I know this is old news, but it still makes me smile every morning. What would I do if I couldn't hear lyrics like "So don't trip, I got a giant rocket/Glidin' through just hittin' your pocket." or "Girl I promise this will be painless, painless/ we'll take a trip to planet Uranus."
R. Kelly Lyrics
sex Planet Lyrics
Another new favorite "Baby we are like coconut and banana trees/tropical chemistry."

-The Loosh

Who is King Douche?

My hate for Papelbon runs deep. It’s the type of hatred that could drive a lesser man to murder. Why? You ask. Well it could be the Riverdance episode(s) that make people laugh for a reason I am still trying to discover (A baseball closer dancing an Irish jig? That doesn’t match! – finishes frosting tips and chuckles-). It could also be the way he celebrated after winning the’07 Series; insincere over celebration drives me fucking crazy (i.e. A-Rod if anybody on the Yankees but him hits a home run.) Or perhaps, it was when he changed into an Irish kilt for the “Red Sox Rally” to do the same Irish jig for a third time (It’s on a Costanza “That’s got to hurt!” level of pathetic.) I’ve tried several times to show how putrid of an individual Jonathan Papelbon is. However, I gave up, knowing it would take the likes of a Keats or Frost to properly express such hatred. But then, a light! A close friend, who shared similar frustrations, nailed a comparison that will end any discussion of the merits of a Jonathan C. Papelbon: He looks identical to that professional douche from The Hills, Spencer Sofuckinghappyidontknowhislastname. In fact, they look so similar I can’t tell the difference between these assholes unless Red Sox hats or Lauren Conrad annoying skanks are involved.
- The Loosh

Intolerable Shit Vol.1 Beverly Hills by Weezer

Beverly Hills by Weezer

I realize I should probably revisit Weezer’s Beverly Hills before I write this so I can pick out specific things worth mentioning. But that would mean listening to the song again, which is out of the question. Here are some things that particularly chap my ass:

Ass chapper number one, the stupid bass drum “duh duh” beat. You get paid millions of dollars to come up with that? How about your responsibility to poor assholes like me who will end up hearing this song seventy times against their will. I know that record companies screw over artists all the time, and they take more than they deserve, and wah wah. No fucking shit, look what you produce. Nobody would listen to this shit unless greedy pricks paid stations to put your miserable song on the radio.

Ass chapper number two, that “wah wah” guitar. You know what sucks? Peter Frampton's talk box. You know what sucks even more? Shitty renditions of Peter Frampton's talk box. This shit sounds like the maid from The Jetsons getting DP’d.

Ass chapper number three, the lyrics/message. This is when I knew you guys became talentless assholes. Oh wow you don’t belong in Beverly Hills, you don’t fit in with the rest of Hollywood, you’re just normal assholes like everyone else. How ironic! How daring! How fucking obvious. You know what also told us that, and in a subtle intelligent way, Pinkerton and the mother fucking Blue Album. “Beverly Hills,” is about as subtle as your rod getting chewed off by a Rottweiler. My cock sinks into my stomach when Rivers Cuomo just starts talking in the middle of the song, saying shit like "You know what, I just don't fit in," and the only way to bring it back out is by watching hardcore amateur pornography while listening to Gang of Four at full blast.

Ass chapper number four, the “gimme, gimme” sound effect after the chorus. I had to look up what this guest female member of Weezer says , and it just pissed me off even more when I found it was “gimme, gimme.” At first I thought it was gibberish, or Japanese, which would have complimented the rest of the song by being equally as fucktarted.

Ass chapper number five, the video. A bunch of nerds get to go to the Playboy mansion, sounds like a decent idea, if you’re an emo douche. Oh wait, Weezer is playing “Beverly Hills” while they’re there, the least clothes ripping, tongue sucking, booze guzzling rock and roll song ever. Sorry pricks, your .0001% chance of getting to first base with a playmate just got divided by 10 (.00001% fucknuts.)

Ass chapper number six, Weezer used to fucking rule. Have you listened to the Blue Album? 10 Perfect songs, and arguably one of the greatest closing numbers ever put on a record (“Only in Dreams”). Pinkerton, almost as good minus the ultra gay “Butterfly” at the end, and maybe “Getchoo,” which is the only song I even question passing over. I know Rivers Cuomo isn’t your “everyday rockstar,” and that he went to Harvard to study lit. Well here’s a one word review of Harvard’s lit program based on the only douche I know to come out of it: Dicksmack.

Remember that Buddy Holly video with characters from Happy Days? I watched that shit ten times a day, and do you know what I just realized, I fucking hate Happy Days. "Buddy Holly" was such a good song it made me like the trials and tribulations of a Richie Cunningham (Fuck you assholes that say "What do you mean? Happy Days ruled! Fonzi's the man!" He was a side character and there's no way you can remember any episode but Fonzi water skiing over the shark which is admittedly brilliant.) In the video Fonzi does a badass dance and leaves with two babes, Richie Cunningham gets put in his place by nerds as big as him, and Al asks them to "try the fish." It's genius. And that’s what Weezer used to be; geniuses that could make Fonzie dance so hard he’d leave with a threeway.

-The Loosh