Sheldon The Wonderhorse's Open Salon Blog

Martha Stewart Takes a Pork Shank to the Kidneys

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 10:11:14 -0500

Not to be done by her arch-rival, Martha Stewart held a press-conference yesterday in which she took repeated blows to her kidneys by her assistant wielding a pork shank.

Earlier this week, Paula Dean was hit in the face with a ham, but suffered no serious injuries. Stewart, clad in a smart business-suit, issued the following statement:

"While I appreciate the tenacity of Ms. Dean and am happy she is recovering, she is simply a pretender to the throne. I took a ham to the face when I was still in my teens, and you didn't see me making a big deal of it. Dean is just a pussy with a goofy accent, and to prove it, I would like to introduce my assistant Rochelle, who will pummel me with a pork shank."

Rochelle Matthews, her beautiful 25-year-old assistant, then walked out carrying the 8-pound shank. The two then reenacted the "Hit me in the face" scene from Raging Bull.

Stewart, 68, took the first three blows without even flinching. However, Matthews seemed to go off script, when she continued to hit her with the meat, each swing with increased intensity. Stewart did manage to get in a jab that seemed to momentarily knock the breath out of Matthews, but Matthews came back swinging. Finally, the two were seperated and pulled apart. Matthews could be heard shouting, "That's for giving me a spray-painted pine-cone for Christmas last year, you cheap, dirty whore!", as she was loaded into a car and driven away.

Stewart, whose eye was begining to swell shut, was asked about the punch she administered to Matthews. "I learned that in the joint. Bitches were always getting all up in my grill."

Stewart then wowed the reporters by fashioning a splint out of onionskins, coriander, and hair gel.

To The Man Whose Entire Lunch Came From 7-11

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 17:11:42 -0500

Let me just say -

Wow.

Let me correct that -

Wow. Wowfuckitywowwow. Wow. That is one hell of a meal you got going on there.

You, sir, are a braver, if not a better man than I. First off, lunch at 7:30 in the morning is quite a statement to make. To be fair, for all I know, you may work 3rd shift, so in that case, it would make perfect sense. But, seriously, you're really going to eat one of those jumbo hotdog/sausage/colonbomb deals this early? In the words of the immortal TS Eliot, "Godspeed, Chester".

Okay, maybe TS didn't actually say that, but from what I know about him, it probably wouldn't be out of character for him. I get the sense that ol' TS called a lot of people Chester. Possibly Boss. Perhaps Chief. But definitely Chester.

Good lord, that is a lot of food. You're kind of a smallish, scrawny guy aren't you? Look, don't take that the wrong way - I'm kind of envious. Any normal person would eat half of that and spend the next month working off the calories. Either that or spend the whole day on the crapper with the sugar-shits. You must have a stomach lined with that metalic stuff they dipped Wolverine in.

Seriously? Four hotdogs? I don't think I've ever had four hotdogs in one sitting. Hell, I don't know that I've had four hotdogs this year. You even seem comfortable with the fact that they've probably been sitting in that rolly thing for at least a couple of days. That's an optimistic guess, too. I've seen hotdogs, and they don't get that wrinkly unless they've been doing some hard time. There's a distinct possibility that they were put in that warmer back when the Cubs were tied for first. In other words, it's been awhile.

When I saw the jumbo bag of Doritos to go along with the four hot dogs, I first thought, "Maybe he's getting breakfast-lunch for some co-workers". But the one can of Diet Mountain Dew makes me think that's not the case, unless you all plan on sharing, which doesn't seem likely.

Say, since you seem to be a regular at this establishment, maybe you can tell me what the deal is with 7-11 and movie-tie-ins. Over the last few years, they have alligned themselves with GI Joe, Transformers 2, The Simpsons and The Incredible Hulk. That all makes some sense to me. You could make an arguement that it wouldn't out of character at all for The Hulk to walk into a 7-11 and bellow, "Hulk want SLURPEE!". But this new tie-in, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around. What in God's green earth can Sherlock Holmes have to do with 7-11? Judging from the posters out there by the gas pumps, he really digs their coffee and taquitos -whatever the hell they are. I will really be disappointed if I go see the movie and find Professor Moriarty writes all his evil plans down on a Big Gulp cup.

Two packages of Twinkees, huh? Can't fault you there. I have been known to enjoy a Twinkee. Of course, I haven't enjoyed one (much less four) in probably a good year or two. But, to each his own. I see you also have an Almond Joy. Good choice. A bold choice. There's quite a few people out there who hate the Almond Joy. Kudos, sir, for going your own way.

Oh yes, absolutely grab that apple. You certainly don't want the counter-jockey to think you only eat crap. Yes, I'm sure they have a couple of packs of American Spirits back there too.

Godspeed, Chester. Godspeed, indeed.

Ladies & Gents, the Comedy Stylings of Beck & O'Reilly!

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 14:11:56 -0500

I got thinking about Bill O'Reilly & Glenn Beck today.

I don't like doing that - thinking about those two. Breaking out into an icy-cold sweat is no way to start your morning. The only reason I thought of them is the fact that I saw they are going on some sort of speaking tour together. That's fairly bone-chilling. One is bad enough, but you stick the other buffoon in there, and it quickly goes from speaking engagement to full-blown rally. In fact, there are few people I would less like to hear together than these two idiots: Rev. Jim Jones & David Duke, Joseph McCarthy & Richard Nixon, Loggins & Messina.

Since there is absolutely no way in hell I would go to this, I can only imagine what the evening will entail. I'm pretty confident that every inch of every available space will be covered in American flags and outrage. If I were actually to show up at this thing, I would probably be escorted from the premises in record time for throwing Kleenex boxes at Beck and chucking a loofa or two at Bill. Here's how I guess the night will go:

****************

8:00 - Glenn Beck comes out on stage and promptly breaks down in tears.

8:15 - Bill O'Reilly utters the words: "plastic surgery", "Nancy Pelosi", and "crackwhore" to thunderous applause.

8:25 - Glenn, still weeping, puts on a tricorne hat and knickers , and spends the next 20 minutes pretending he's Francis Scott Key.

8:45 - Bill talks about how the country has gone to shit and how great it used to be in the old days. You know, when women knew their place and hanging a black guy was socially acceptable.

9:03 - Glenn blames Obama for stealing his Christmas sweater. Wails uncontrollably.

9:14 - Bill tries to prove he has a sense of humor by telling a joke that begins with "So, a kike walks into a bar..."

9:16 - Rush Limbaugh makes a surprise appearance and eats an entire hog.

9:33 - Glenn pretends he's a musket.

9:44 - Bill yells at a stagehand

9:50 - Glenn masterbates to a picture of Michelle Bachman and the Statue of Liberty.

9:51 - Bill yells at stagehand for not cleaning up after Glenn faster.

9:59 - Bill and Glenn sing a duet of "God Bless America", and after being swept up by emotion, promptly start to make out.

***************************

Okay, that last thing probably won't happen. But, lord amighty, I would love to see that. Bill & the Beckster looking into each others eyes, moving in slowly, trying to fight their animalistic urges, and then just dive in, tongues-a-probing. Soon, they would make their way down to Cabo for a long weekend of mai-tai's and lovemaking, while Limbaugh eats an elk by himself, and Rupert Murdoch's head explodes.

Ah, a kid can dream, can't he?

You Will Be Eaten By A Badger Today At 3:15

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 12:11:52 -0500

I got thinking about fortune cookies today.

When did they become so lame? In fact, when did they stop telling actual fortunes in favor of opinions? Today, after eating my bowl of seasame chicken, I cracked open my vanilla-flavored friend only to be greeted with the following:

"People respect you!"

How in the hell is that a fortune? That is simply an observation, an opinion, and one that is patently untrue, to boot. I hate it when people lie to me - I hate it even more when my food lies to me. How can I expect people to respect me when my crispy dessert treat doesn't even hold me in high enough regard to be truthful with me? Frankly, if you are going to be giving out opinions, why not just go that extra mile and tell me stuff that I already know, or at the very least, suspect. I would quite actually be impressed if I cracked open a fortune cookie that said "You're bald", or "Your best years are far behind you, and you are getting more and more unattractive by the second", or "Yes, that smell is coming from you". That's some truth-telling there, boy. I can respect a cookie that goes out on the edge like that.

If you are going to market yourself as some sort of mystical cookie that seems to know the future, you best make some predicitions. Otherwise, it's just blatant false advertising. I don't want generic predicitions, either. I need some specifics. For instance, "The Bears are going to lose to the 49ers" isn't really doing me any favors - that's kind of a gimmee. A mental patient could have picked that. However, "The Bears are going to lose to the 49ers 10-6" would have come in really handy last Thursday. That's the kind of specifics I'm looking for. "You will be eaten by a badger" is so vague that it's just simply annoying. I read that, and now I'm spending the whole day looking out for random badgers. I don't have that kind of time. If I'm spending my whole day looking out for random badgers, I'm going to be even more worthless than usual. I won't be able to concentrate, I'll be all sweaty, and I'll be paranoid, and seeing phantom badgers behind every corner - who has time for that? I know I don't. However, "You will be eaten by a badger today at 3:15" - that's useful information. That's telling me you can get your work done today, but at 3:15, you best avoid all badgers, Chester. "You will wake up with a Sasquatch in your pants tomorrow morning" tells me I need to clear all the Sasquatches from the house before I go to bed tonight. See - useful information.

I mean, if fortune cookies aren't really concerned about telling fortunes anymore, they might as well just start promoting conspiracy theories. "Ruth Buzzi was the shooter on the grassy knoll" would certainly get people talking. "There is no moon - those are just pictures of my Uncle Earl's kidney stone", "Paris Hilton is the result of a tryst between Satan and Tammy Faye Bakker", "Donald Trump is a tranny" - that kind of thing.

Basically all I'm saying is, get some balls, fortune cookies. Make with the predictions or call it a day. If I want opinions, I'll go find some Nutter Butters.

Although, that Paris Hilton thing does intrigue me.

For the Love of God, Please Hold the Jack Sauce

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 12:11:43 -0500

I got thinking about fast food today.

Jack in the Box, in particular.

You see, Jack in the Box recently expanded into Colorado, and now I'm starting to see their creepy little white clown head mascot pop up everywhere.

I refuse to eat at Jack in the Box for a couple of reasons. One, their website fails to mention the little incident they had back in the 90's. Remember that one? The one where they were serving up burgers swimming in E. coli? Yeah, they kind of hoped you forgot about that. I can't really, since one of my cousins bit into one of those burger-flavored petri-dishes and damn near died. But that's not the main reason I won't eat there. Nope, the main reason can be summed up in two words:

Jack Sauce.

That's the stuff they used to put on their burgers. Jack Sauce. I'm guessing it was probably that Thousand Island + ketchup combo that so many fast food places use, but still, you couldn't come up with a better name than Jack Sauce? For all I know, it could taste like chocolate gold, but all I can see in my head is biting into a burger dripping with some fry-cook's spooge. I know I'm not the only one to think that, either.

This really can't be a surprise to them. In fact, looking at their website, I see they've actually changed the name from Jack Sauce to Jack's Famous Secret Sauce, which is almost worse. Like Jack has been saving up his special sauce for your burger. Only now, instead of a fry-cook, I picture a swarthier Larry Dallas from Three's Company saying, "I've been working on something JUST for you, but DON'T TELL ANYONE! It's a SECRET!", while he works himself up into a lather, followed by a creepy wink.

Even if it is the Thousand Island concoction, who the fuck asks for salad dressing on a hamburger? If you are going to do that, you might as well ask for a donut dipped in Liquid Plummer. It makes about as much sense. I truly believe if you walked into Charlie Trotter's restaurant and asked for a steak smothered in salad dressing, the cook should be able to come out and legally beat you to death. Even more, I don't think a jury in the world would convict him. "Well, your honor, first he asked for salad dressing on his steak, then he shoved a twice-baked potato down his pants, and walked out wearing shoes made of Legos. Clearly, he was derranged."

Case dismissed.

Maybe it's just the world we live in now, or just the fact that I have the emotional development of a 13-year-old, but I'm thinking you should leave the word "Jack" out of most restaurants. I'll give you pepper-jack cheese, but really, the Jumbo Jack? It is physically impossible for me to tell a 16-year-old counter worker that I would love a Jumbo Jack, without giggling like mental patient. Because, really, who wouldn't enjoy a Jumbo Jack, when you get right down to it? Trust me, you ask for a Jumbo Jack anywhere else, you will have a court date in your future. Learned that the hard way.

They also serve something called a Bonus Jack. I'll be honest with you, one Jack is really all I'm good for. I'm too tired for a Bonus Jack. As the great Clevon Little once said, "Baby, I am not from Havana."

Now, I'm off to Carl's Jr. for a Thick and Juicy.