ALLEGEDLY!!! I mean, I’m just going to have to assume that she’s crazy or leaves the toilet seat up or something. To me, she’ll always be Mrs. Billy Joel. I’ll always have Joel’s “Innocent Man” album to back me up. All those tunes about Christie Lee? That’s some serious love and devotion, my friends. But no - Christie-baby is involved in divorcing husband number 4. This logically leads me to the conclusion that she is a complete bitch-on-wheels to be around. How can you be married to the gal that coined the title “super model” and not find a way to be satisfied?
Peter Cook is this nimrod’s name and he’s an architect. I mention his name in order to give him as much notoriety for being a complete stain as my little blog can muster. What an idiot this Peter Cook is. Peter Cook is a total jackass. Peter Cook needs a shot in the crank. Peter Cook should go pound sand. Peter Cook….ahhh, you get the picture, unlike Peter Cook who is a supreme douche bag. Peter Cook? That guy’s an idiot. I don’t know which part of the Peter Cook story makes me angrier - the fact that he paid off his teenage mistress to the tune of $300,000 to keep their affair a secret or the fact that HE HAD A FRIGGIN’ TEENAGE MISTRESS. You are married to the numero uno supermodel of all time and you are off looking for strange? What the hell is wrong with you, man? Plus, Peter Cook allegedly had a $3,000 a month internet pornography habit. Hello? Supermodel? Yeah, like the most gorgeous woman in the world? Yeah, she’s in the next room while you’re jackin’ it to an internet porn site. What a tool Peter Cook is! Or maybe not. Here’s my theory. I’m not sure if Billy Joel was husband number one or not - but for whatever reason HE couldn’t make it work with Christie and then somewhere down the line husbands 2 and 3 threw up their hands and packed it in and now we find out that Peter Cook, husband numero quatro, is racking up hundreds of thousands of bucks to get his jolllies. All I can imagine is that Ms. Brinkley is a cold fish. There has to be something very wrong with her mentally. Because physically - she is stunning. Plus, she’s 54 years old and still manages to be stunning. Incidentally - I had to make a stop at Wikipedia for that particular nugget of information and just to clarify - Billy Joel was husband number 2. Then I read a little further down that Christie is a well known supporter of PETA and has spoken out for PETA against Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. There you have cold hard evidence that she’s a nut job. She’s aligned herself with a psycho-fringe group (PETA) and despite being drop-dead gorgeous, her four past husbands can’t stand to be around her psycho-babble. She’s a fu**in’ nut! I am frightened of her psychiatry bill. There you have it. Open and shut case. Black and white. Just as plain as day! The defense rests! Christine Brinkley is a big, giant, stunningly gorgeous pain in the ass!
It’s a sad state of affairs. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July and nobody cares. It just seems like the lead is out of the pencil and communities in the greater DC area are just going through the motions of putting on their annual whatever. Fireworks shows in many local communities across the country have been cancelled due to the sagging economy, firework shortages, drought and just plain old apathy. Not so long ago, in the years immediately following the September 11th tragedies, July 4 was like Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Year’s and Easter all wrapped up in one. We used to light the tree on fire and exchange the most awesome gifts ever stuffed into flavorful turkeys or hidden in colorful eggs! There were marching bands and colorful costumes and beads - gosh, that was a great time wasn’t it? Lee Greenwood would sing “Proud to Be An American” and then we’d all puke red, white and blue. OK, to be honest, that period of time seemed a little disengenuous to me as well. But now it seems like we’ve done some sort of anti-4th of July 180.
Our neighbors are all getting together tonight to do the traditional neighborhood barbecue. Afterwards, we’ll all gather in the cul-de-sac and light fireworks and whatever. But something just doesn’t feel right this year. Perhaps there is a pervasive feeling of the state of our country being up in the air. We here at Cageboy.com DO NOT and WILL NOT get into politics - at least I hope we won’t. And I’m not going to endorse or otherwise promote ANY candidate over another. (Note: I hope you all enjoyed our little political “cartoon” on yesterday’s blog). And perhaps I’m oversimplifying things a bit. In truth, this particular Cageboy rarely discusses politics because I don’t have any particular political affiliation. I do involve myself in the process - so I’m not one of those scumbags. But ever since I’ve been old enough to vote, it has always made more sense to me to throw my support towards whoever makes the most sense - whoever’spolicies and values seem the most in line withmy own. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed that that tends to shift a bit from time to time. But I’ve never said this party or that party is better than the other. And the two candidates running towards Election 2008 both have desirable qualities. (Even that’s more political commentary than I like to make). However, the problems in our country seem insurmountable. Inasmuch as we’ve either had them for so long or have been sliding into the maw of the abyss for so long that you would think if they were solvable, someone would have solved them already. I’m sorry - Barack Obama seems like a great guy - he’s a go**amn rock star - but does anyone really think that the Obamas are gonna move into 1600 Penn Avenue and gas is gonna go back to being a buck-and-a-half-a-gallon? And clearly McCain is the man in terms of military experience, but does anyone really think that Mr. and Mrs. McCain are gonna put their feet up in the Lincoln bedroom and all the troops are gonna come home? These are all festering problems that have gotten worse and worse over time. It’s easy to point the finger at our current President and blame him - but this is all slippery slope stuff that has dominoed over years and years. The news today is all about some impending action in Iran. Cheese and rice - let’s dry off from the current shi* storm before we plunge neck deep into yet another one!
(Break: Today’s blog REALLY started off as a nostalgic little wake for the 4th of July Celebrations I used to know - I didn’t mean to get all “Meet The Press” on you folks. I apologize - but feel obligated to see where this is all going. Lemme see if I can get this back on track - Read on!)
It’s all a matter of bad PR. America has a bad spokesperson. George Bush might be the smartest guy on the planet in the history of the world. It’s possible. I think probably not - but let’s give Mr. Bush the benefit of the doubt, shall we. His MAJOR short coming in his entire political career is that he sucks on the mic. He can’t talk. Slick Willie Clinton on the other hand got himself in all kinds of trouble - but he was great on the mic and so he skates free. See the difference? It’s all about perception. A good spokesperson is all about turning lemons into lemonade. In terms of public speaking, George Bush turns lemons into cancer.
I’m really sorry for pi**ing all over the 4th of July here. I love the 4th of July. Growing up, the 4thof July was quite possibly a bigger deal than Christmas or any other major holiday. Our neighborhood used to get together and throw epic, all-day celebrations with fireworks, and barbecues and softball and water balloon fights and horseshoes. The whole nine yards. All American. Hell, they could have filmed commercials for Chevy at our 4th parties! The kids in my neighborhood would wake up early on the 4th and go out and start setting up chairs and tables before they ate their Frankenberry in the morning! I guess, I want a slice of that for my kids. It just seems that now the 4th comes with all sorts of baggage it never had before. Fireworks are dangerous…hot dogs and hamburgers lead to childhood obesity and Lee Greenwood sucks. (Is that a Cageboy Truism I smell grillin’?).
You know what? Now I’m mad. I went from feeling a little deflated to being straight up pi**ed off in just 5 short paragraphs. I’m takingmatters into my own hands. I’m declaring the 4th of July as the official holiday of Cageboys everywhere. Cageboys! Rise up! Reclaim what is your God-given celebration of choice! Fire up your grill and cook hamburgers and hot dogs! Light fireworks and play softball! Drink an icy-cold domestic beer and sing along to a Beach Boys song! Because when I think about what it means to be a Cageboy - ya know what I’m thinking about? I’m thinking about America!
I think we at Cageboy.com have done a good job honoring George Carlin. Not to belabor the point, but the guy really made us laugh for a long time. When you see the outpouring of love for an entertainer like Carlin, the immediate reaction tends to be “It’s a shame that he had to die to achieve the recognition.” I don’t think that’s the case with George Carlin. Just last week it was announced that he would be receiving the Mark Twain Award for lifetime achievement at the Kennedy Center in July. And when you read all the accolades in the news, Carlin is lauded as an innovator - a unique voice in comedy and entertainment. What I love is that the guy absolutely made every step of the way on his own terms. For a long time, Carlin was too hot to touch. The “7 Dirty Words” bit spawned federal lawsuits, got him kicked out of Vegas (WTF?) and even got him persona non grata status on the Johnny Carson Show. Ya know what George had to say about it? He looked right into the camera and said “F*** You, Johnny!” Holy Snikes - in the world of entertainment, you have got to have stones as big as church bells to go there! And yet, from all accounts (and I especially love Kevin Smith’s tribute) Carlin was a normal guy who wouldn’t big time you. I never had the pleasure of meeting the man, but everyone says that the guy you see on the screen and on the stage is the genuine article - albeit a slightly ratcheted down and polite version of the man you see delivering the lines.
I can’t imagine that we’ll have much more to say about Carlin - except that he was brilliant and we loved his comedy. We even replaced our masthead with the Buddy Christ to shepherd George home. According to George there were only four places you could go when you die - heaven, hell, purgatory or limbo. ”Welcome to limboooooooooo”. Given all the smiles he created and the love that was felt for him universally - the Cageboys have a pretty good idea where George is headed.
Call in sick or set your DVR. HBO is doing a two-day marathon of classic Carlin concerts. And here’s your public service message for the day…
I’m having a stark vision of George Carlin at the Pearly Gates, but the only thing running through my mind is,
“What are you, the Statute of Liberty, Dunn?”
“Oh, sorry Father. Anyhow, Father–let’s say that you didn’t make your Easter Duty. And it’s Pente-cost Sunday; the last day. And you’re on a ship at sea. And the chaplain goes into a coma. But you wanted to receive. And then it’s Monday, too late…but then you cross the International Date Line!”
Here’s hoping that all your Heavy Mysteries are now answered, George, and that Buddy Christ has welcomed you and Cardinal Glick home.
Rest in Peace.
(Note From Skippy: The YouTube link below is of the longer version of the bit that Mookie’s excerpt comes from. If you have never heard it - set aside 10 minutes and listen. If you have heard it, I think you’ll find it is as funny as it ever was.)
ALLEGEDLY!!! I mean, I’m just going to have to assume that she’s crazy or leaves the toilet seat up or something. To me, she’ll always be Mrs. Billy Joel. I’ll always have Joel’s “Innocent Man” album to back me up. All those tunes about Christie Lee? That’s some serious love and devotion, my friends. But no - Christie-baby is involved in divorcing husband number 4. This logically leads me to the conclusion that she is a complete bitch-on-wheels to be around. How can you be married to the gal that coined the title “super model” and not find a way to be satisfied? 
Peter Cook is this nimrod’s name and he’s an architect. I mention his name in order to give him as much notoriety for being a complete stain as my little blog can muster. What an idiot this Peter Cook is. Peter Cook is a total jackass. Peter Cook needs a shot in the crank. Peter Cook should go pound sand. Peter Cook….ahhh, you get the picture, unlike Peter Cook who is a supreme douche bag. Peter Cook? That guy’s an idiot. I don’t know which part of the Peter Cook story makes me angrier - the fact that he paid off his teenage mistress to the tune of $300,000 to keep their affair a secret or the fact that HE HAD A FRIGGIN’ TEENAGE MISTRESS. You are married to the numero uno supermodel of all time and you are off looking for strange? What the hell is wrong with you, man? Plus, Peter Cook allegedly had a $3,000 a month internet pornography habit. Hello? Supermodel? Yeah, like the most gorgeous woman in the world? Yeah, she’s in the next room while you’re jackin’ it to an internet porn site. What a tool Peter Cook is! Or maybe not. Here’s my theory. I’m not sure if Billy Joel was husband number one or not - but for whatever reason HE couldn’t make it work with Christie and then somewhere down the line husbands 2 and 3 threw up their hands and packed it in and now we find out that Peter Cook, husband numero quatro, is racking up hundreds of thousands of bucks to get his jolllies. All I can imagine is that Ms. Brinkley is a cold fish. There has to be something very wrong with her mentally. Because physically - she is stunning. Plus, she’s 54 years old and still manages to be stunning. Incidentally - I had to make a stop at Wikipedia for that particular nugget of information and just to clarify - Billy Joel was husband number 2. Then I read a little further down that Christie is a well known supporter of PETA and has spoken out for PETA against Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. There you have cold hard evidence that she’s a nut job. She’s aligned herself with a psycho-fringe group (PETA) and despite being drop-dead gorgeous, her four past husbands can’t stand to be around her psycho-babble. She’s a fu**in’ nut! I am frightened of her psychiatry bill. There you have it. Open and shut case. Black and white. Just as plain as day! The defense rests! Christine Brinkley is a big, giant, stunningly gorgeous pain in the ass!
