In this edition:
· Renting White People
· Warren Zevon Visits Hoboken
And... a new sponsor
Find us on Twitter: @Griswell_RFC
Renting White People
RFC: Today we’re speaking with Edsel Winery, who runs Rented White People, Inc. in North Bergen. Among Mr. Winery’s clients are several Hoboken political campaigns. Tell us, Mr. Winery, what’s…
EW: Be right with, ya. I gotta take this…
This is him… Yeah… You pay by the bus load. 50 to a bus. 2 buses? Inbred or plain? Inbred? Can they bring their kids? No, not boys and girls, goats. Can they bring their goats? Inbreds go for more than plain, but with the goats I can swing a discount…. No, they ride on the bus. They got these special car seats. All right, get back to me by noon. Inbreds don’t stay on the shelf.
RFC: That was interesting. Inbreds?
EW: The DNC. They rent my inbreds all the time. It’s hard to keep up with demand. They use ‘em to pose as tea party protestors. Automatically makes any idea look more reasonable.
RFC: Why don’t they just get people from the tea party movement?
EW: They have jobs? There’s a recession and no one wants to get fired for getting on TV carrying a picture of Obama in a Nazi uniform? Pick 2.
RFC: I have to ask – goats?
EW: They like having their goats along. Long day, someone to talk to.
RFC: So what’s all this cost?
EW: You have to pay for transportation, goat upkeep, things like that. If they get arrested – which is by pre-agreement – you pay legal fees. I don’t discuss rates unless you are in the market though. But I’m reasonable – ask around.
RFC: You’re kidding. “Ask around?”
EW: It’s a competitive marketplace. Like half of what you see as the tea party on TV is rented. Watch the edges of your TV for goats browsing in the grass. Fox tries to edit them out, but they’re there. And there’s also rented enviro-protesters, rented WTO protesters, stuff like that.
RFC: Same deal?
EW: Yeah. No goats though. Just tons of weed. The goats would eat it. Hey, that could be a new line for me… Let me write that down. Stoned goats gotta be good for something... Anyway, the White Punks on Dope package is more seasonal. Same basic idea though – we rent socially unacceptable opposition for all occasions.
RFC: What about ‘socially acceptable’ support?
EW: What, like they get in Hoboken? We do that, sure. Not as sexy, but whatever.
RFC: Any pending orders?
EW: Let’s check the book… Hoboken, Hoboken, Hoboken… Here it is.
Date – November 2nd…
Quantity - 1 bus load…
Event – “Buy a job for mommy’s new helper / Nancy Pincus made a picture with turds”…
Hey, I just write down what they tell me.
Package - “Home from College” and he checked the ‘no weed’ box.
Home from college and no weed. You guys just live in fantasy land down there, don’t ya? Whatever. You’ll be getting a bus load of 17 – 20 year-old white kids –weedless…- to hang around on… 1st Street… and shill for… hold on… Ah, Ocho… someone? OchoPinto? Does that ring a bell? Maybe that’s the whole name? Who cares. I sure don’t.
RFC: Kind of aloof from the whole process, aren’t you? What if your rented crackers do some real damage like getting a real low-life elected?
EW: They don’t vote. Stupid people elect low-lifes. If you’re stupid take it up with mommy and daddy, not some inbred talking to his goat.
RFC: None of this works with black people?
EW: Not on this planet. Unlike Mr & Mrs John Q Pretense, they know nothing will change. You want their vote, you have to do better than a bus load of toked-up liberal arts majors. Rent white, buy black.
EW: Good day to you sir.
With one week to go in the race for the 4th Ward between the incumbent, The Don, and upstart challenger, OchoPinto, the stench of mutual loathing fills the air. And thank you, Jesus, from all of us here at RFC.
It all started with a smiling picture. Doesn’t it always. Known more for oxygen-depleting oratory than glow-in-the-dark cheesecake, The Don was suddenly appearing in campaign materials that, well, glowed. Literally. Before long, team OchoPinto was whispering its suspicions in the media.
Was the smile augmented? Didn’t The Don previously have at best a warning track smile; now suddenly it reaches the last row of the bleachers? How was this possible by ‘normal’ means? What lesson was this teaching our children?
At a hastily contrived press conference, OchoPinto testily droned, “For too long the teeth of the 4th Ward have been ignored.”
But hand-wringing soon gave way to resignation, as the challenger’s handlers realized they had to match The Don’s blinding radiance or disappear from view altogether.
Campaign manager, Elmer Crayon, put it this way. “We welcome the chance to go smile for smile with The Don. Let the public be the judge.”
“Really,” countered The Don’s campaign manager, Clam Frigs, “he said that? We’ll see. We’ll just see,” said Frigs, laughing off the challenge.
Not surprisingly, OchoPinto’s debate performance relied heavily on context-independent grinning while reading prepared text verbatim. Disconcerting at first, then in the middle, and finally more so at the end, it seemed to work for the boisterous fans of the remotely controlled up-and-comer.
Otherwise Unemployable Raisin Apologist Jane DeBlarney, looking dapper as always in a Sponge Bob after-dinner ensemble, was seated front row center working what appeared to be a computer joystick. For his part The Don left his portable glow in a dish in his dressing room and risked all on the audience’s reaction to carefully crafted essay answers to a generally poor selection of ‘questions supplied by the public’. Suspecting the strategy of thinking on one’s feet to be a trick at first, OchoPinto soon realized that his rival actually believed he was at a debate rather than yet another publicity stunt. Winking at his handlers like a fighter who had just realized his opponent only planned to use one hand, OchoPinto settled back into his cocky indolence and drifted happily to victory in another man’s boat. After the debate, Reached For Comment cameras caught up with the celebratory duo.
RFC: How’d you think it went out there tonight?
OP: Are you kidding, we killed.
RFC: What was the difference-maker - in your estimation?
OP: The Don didn’t have his answer book to read from. He must have forgot it at his pet store. What a loser. He had to make up answers to all the questions on the spot instead of reading the ones his trainer wrote. That just tells the audience you don’t care enough to get a trainer to write down all the answers for you. Plus, since I didn’t have to think, I was able to really work on my smiling. It wasn’t even close.
RFC: Still you looked a little nervous in the beginning. Did you have a problem with the format?
OP: I thought there would be more multiple guess questions. And there was only one TV question.
RFC: Was that the big concern?
OP: Well the big thing was, that was a long sit-stay for me. I kept starting to wag and wanted to get up and walk around and sniff things, but Otherwise Unemployable Raison Apologist Jane DeBlarney gave me helpful electric shocks on my collar.
RFC: It’s possible you’re spending too much time at the pet store.
A question on tactics: You’ve been referring to your opponent as an “unelected rubber stamp.”
OP: Yes, I get a herring snack every time I say that. Unelected rubber stamp. Unelected rubber stamp. Sorry, go ahead.
RFC: Right… So anyway, you’re unelected…
RFC: And you say whatever you’re told to say…sort of like a rubber stamp…
OP: Thank you. Yes, I do.
RFC: So… unelected rubber stamp… That’s kind of what you are. So I was wondering if you were calling your opponent an unelected rubber stamp to be ironic.
OP: Ironing? Are you saying this suit is rumpled? I just put it on. Mr. Squid says I am completely in charge of dressing myself. That’s my biggest job on the campaign. Dang.
RFC: No, sorry, I said ironic not ironing.
OP: Oh, thank God. I’m not going to tell you the electric collar never hurts.
RFC: So, anyway, is it meant to be ironic – an unelected rubber stamp always calling someone else an unelected rubber stamp?
OP: Wait, is this part of the regular test or extra credit?
RFC: No, it’s just a question.
OP: Ok, I’d like to use a life-line and phone-a-friend.
RFC: No, I’m just asking-
OP: Ok, I’m only risking 1 dollar on this. Final Jeopardy answer: what is … tobogganing?
RFC: I’ll get back to you on that… And joining us now is Otherwise Unemployable Raisin Apologist Jane DeBlarney. How did you score it tonight?
OURAJD: Mommy’s new friend is newer than all the other mommy friends put together. Mommy wins! And Nancy Pincus-
RFC: We know.
Well there you have it, folks. A celebration is underway here. Looks like herring snacks for OchoPinto and some kind of strained fruit for his trainer. Meanwhile, pundits everywhere will be sharpening their pencils and trying to estimate the net impact OchoPinto would have on the city council.
And speaking of a 50 point drop in IQ… Friends, Reached For Comment is excited to welcome our new sponsor. Let me paint a picture for you. You’re watching the playoffs, and your team is stinking up the field. Not only that, they are stinking it up to the tune of about twice what the other team makes. And the play by play?
PBP #1: Ooo, he let that one jump over is glove.
PBP #2: Tough break, I bet he wished he had that one back.
PBP #1: Happens to the best of players.
PBP #2: And 2 more runs will score.
Sound familiar? Are they kidding? Is that what you said when you saw it? Your friends at the Profanity Channel© sure don’t think so. Let’s see that again, but this time, from the Profanity Channel broadcast booth at Yankee Stadium.
PC #1: What the fuck was that?
PC #2: Hey, asshole, catch the fucking ball.
PC #1: What are we paying this asshole?
PC #2: Too fucking much whatever it is.
PC #1: Wake up, asshole. 2 more fucking runs.
Now, that’s real sports coverage! And the genuine stadium experience, that, let’s face it, you can no longer afford unless you’ve figured out how to donate organs you’re still using.
And coming this fall the Profanity Channel will expand its programming to cover the world of politics.
PC #1: Senator Menendez, does the bullshit ever end with you?
SM: Fuck you.
PC #1: So, I’ll take that as a ‘no’.
SM: Fuck you.
Travel, anyone? You’ll enjoy the international flavor of our helpful guide for road warriors called, “What Did the Cab Driver Just Call Me?” Each week, we’ll bring you to another exotic port-of-call and teach you the basic swearing you know you’ll need. Let’s face it, your suitcase isn’t really packed until it contains “which one of you fucks is in charge here?” in the language of your soon-to-be hosts. Before you know it, you’ll be cursing like a native no matter where you happen to find yourself.
So listen to your old pal Griswell and call your cable provider today and let them know you’ve had about all the civility you can swallow.
Make the switch to the Profanity Channel – Don’t be an asshole©.
Warren Zevon Visits Hoboken
And if California slides into the ocean
Like the mystics and statistics say it will,
I predict this motel will be standing
Until I pay my bill.
-Desperados Under the Eaves, Warren Zevon
Well, it had a good run, but it does appear that Hoboken is sliding out to sea, in chunks, via the Hudson River. First the soccer field, then upper Sinatra Drive. Who knows what’s next. RFC has 1 Marine View in the $50-a-box catastrophe pool at Willie McBrides, but that’s neither here nor there (sweet pick though; crappy construction on the encroaching waterfront - don’t pretend you’re not jealous). It’s not a matter of whether Garden Street becomes river front property, but when. And whenever it is, rest assured, the proverbial motel will still be standing until you pay your bill. That much is certain. You shouldn’t have had all those salty margaritas.
Yes, before long you’ll be wishing the surplus really was $20million. And even that won’t be enough. Death and destruction can be sooo expensive. You have to hand it to the people of Pompeii. Now those guys knew how to check out, so to speak. Over and done with in less than a minute, the whole society flash-fried for the ages.
What would archaeologists make of Hoboken if it were destroyed all at once and found relatively intact 1000 years from now someplace off Staten Island instead of slipping away one $50 catastrophe pool box at a time? A house divided at the peak of ruinous confidence? The last wretched excesses of a mile square cold war? A still-born culture mocking a dying culture mocking a still-born culture? Should be some cool t-shirts at the museum gift shop in any event.
Already candidates seeking election in 2011 are adjusting their messaging to fit Hoboken’s emerging submerged future. One such was the blissfully pathological Meth Raisin. Proving once and for all that she would in fact interrupt a eulogy to talk about herself, Raisin announced her re-election bid as all eyes attempted to focus on the last bitter days of the 4th Ward race. In consideration of recent events along the waterfront, candidate Raisin has slyly updated her campaign slogan from “Develop or Die” to “Develop and Die.” Too clever by half.