Droppin’ A Deuce.

1. Sweeps Month officially begins tomorrow, with a formal Opening Ceremony by my brother, Cliff. The Worst Album Covers Of All Time – Volume 2 will follow on Monday, with constant updates until the end of the year. Check back often, because big changes are set to take place for 2007.

There’s still about a week left to e-mail me your Best & Worst of 2006, and get FREE CDP SWAG in the process. Click on the banner for more information.

Ooooh, a sturdy magnet!

2. The results are in for Fact Or Crap? – CDP Edition (Volume 3). The one and only lie in the bunch was #10 (The Dislocated Shoulder). Everything else was a true statement, which will hopefully be explained in more detail during the first Official CDP Podcast later this month.

Ooooh, a tiny pin!

Nobody guessed perfectly, but Aaron and Tam Tam both guessed that #4 and #10 were crap, so I will let them fight over who was the real winner. For the record, Tam Tam made these predictions first.

Ooooh, a sturdy sticker!

In the spirit of fairness, I’ll be sending them both a FREE CDP Magnet, button and sticker, provided they e-mail me their addresses. I rule like that.

Writer’s block and apathy is destroying me at the worst possible time. Stick around for the inevitable year-end breakdown; it’s always entertaining.

Fact Or Crap? – CDP Edition. (Volume 3)

Fact Or Crap? CDP Edition.

Gather ’round, now. Here’s how you play ‘Fact Or Crap? – CDP Edition.’

I’m going to tell you 10 interesting and odd facts about myself (or boring and pompous, depending on what your opinion of me as a person is). You are going to decide which one or many of them is a lie, and let me know in the comments section. After a day or two, I’ll reveal the answer(s) and give mad props and respek to the winner. Simple as that.

If you want a reminder, here’s the wildly successful Volume One and Volume Two.

If you recall from the resulting flamewar, Volume One and Two had no lies whatsoever in either set. This time, however, I promise you that there is a lie somewhere amongst the following ten facts.

And away we go.

1. I have only lost one game of Air Hockey in my life, dating back to December of 1994. My current winning streak has lasted hundreds of games and over 12 years. I might be the greatest player of all time and not even know it. I’ve destroyed men and women of all ages, in multiple states and of multiple cultures. I back down from nobody.

By the way, I have an open challenge policy, 24/7. If you ever see me in a bar, I’ll be ready to throw down at a moment’s notice.

2. Speaking of streaks, I haven’t thrown up in well over 3 years. I’m pretty proud of that.

My last vomit came in September of 2002, shortly after me and the Missus moved in together. I was quite certain she was all set to move back out.

3. I’ve been thrown out of the world-famous Harrod’s department store in London. (I was later welcomed back in after an apology; apparently they didn’t realize who I was.)

I then spent 35 pounds on a stuffed animal that was smaller than my fist. Why was I thrown out?

Not tellin’.

4. By the Missus’ calculation, I’ve broken at least 8 of the 10 commandments in my life. Maybe more. Being raised Catholic, I’ve been well aware of my unavoidable trip to Hell for years now.

5. When I was a teenager, I outran the police in my 1986 Buick Somerset and escaped.

I was being followed by a squad car at around 2am, in the middle of nowhere after dropping off the Missus one night. I was speeding like crazy, and ran past him hiding in a median. Being broke and surly at the time, I wanted to see if I knew the back roads of Winchester, Wisconsin better than the Officer did. I got about a quarter mile ahead of him as he hit his lights, quickly turning a corner and flooring it.

After some weaving in the darkness and eventually killing my lights by a lush forest, I saw him go by, completely unaware of where I was. I simply doubled back and went home ticketless.

I consider it one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done, and I beg of you never to try it. When cops pull guns on you, pants get crapped and hearts get broken.

6. I am an ordained Reverend, and have legally officiated a wedding and an upcoming baptism.

7. One of my ex-girlfriends now works at Coyote Ugly in Chicago. She also has breast implants, and what appears to be a new face.

Thanks to MySpace, I know this. Thanks, MySpace.

8. Today’s my Mom’s 44th birthday.

Or 43rd.

Whatever; this fact doesn’t count, I just want to wish her a happy birthday.

9. On the day of my 18th birthday, I got my left ear pierced at the mall. Over the next month, the earlobe got completely infected and swelled to the size of a Peanut M&M.

After trying to ignore the unbearable pain and embarrassment for awhile, I went to the emergency room and had the back of my earlobe lanced open. I lost an assload of blood, and was then bandaged up to look like I tried to blow my own head off. To this day, there’s a half-inch scar on the back of my left ear.

It was one of the most painful days of my life. It also marked the first time I let loose a string of obscenities at a medical doctor.

10. In 1997, I was playing football with some friends during recess, when I got tackled onto the running track. My right shoulder dislocated, and had to be popped back into place by the guy who tackled me. I went back to class and have since suffered no lasting damage.

Happy guessing. Enjoy your day; Sweeps Month is inching ever closer.

Under The Influence.

Every now and again, people ask me what my influences are when it comes to my writing style, as well as my overall outlook for the themes and voice of the CDP. Ever since I was a kid, things have been shaping and changing my writing personality and overall projected attitude towards written entertainment.

Here now, the people and things that have turned me into the pompous ass I am now, in no particular order.

Stephen King.

As a kid growing up, reading Stephen King was akin to reading a dirty magazine, so I felt as if I was in on something very mature and groundbreaking when I cracked his books. He was probably my first main influence, as it was this sort of storytelling that got me into writing in the first place. I mainly started out writing awful horror pieces just to frighten my parents (not because the story itself was scary, mind you, but because they thought they were going to have to put their son through years of therapy). Although I haven’t read any King novels in over a decade, he made a huge impact on me as a child.

I didn’t do any humor until around the 5th grade, when I realized that I could instantly improve my popularity by doing impressions and making fun of people.

Calvin & Hobbes/The Far Side.

C&H was the most well-rounded, brilliant and beautiful comic strip of all time; TFS was the laugh-out-loud funniest. I look back at Far Side cartoons from the early 80’s and marvel at how far ahead it was of the surreal, intelligent, precision-based humor we saw with The Simpsons a decade later. Until the end of time, cubicle dwellers will continue to hang Far Side cartoons up as a symbol of rebellion and intelligence in a sterile and humorless environment. Even now, I cannot believe that The Far Side was allowed to mingle with the rest of the funny pages for so long; I don’t think a mainstream comic strip will ever match the dark and surreal world that Gary Larson created.

C&H represents my childhood more than I could ever convey. It’s an amazing journey to read through all of Bill Watterson’s collections, full of incredible humor, personal reflection and uncompromisable intelligence. Most of these collections are available at a book store for around $5 now, so you should probably pick up one or two. Better yet, the hard-bound retrospective makes a great Christmas gift (there’s one for The Far Side, too).

The illustrations, brilliant-yet-childlike dialogue and timeless philosophy make Calvin & Hobbes the most rewarding comic strip experience possible.

Billie Joe Armstrong.

Green Day’s Dookie changed my life; period. It made me realize that music could be created by actual people; and anyone could creatively express themselves through melody and 3 chords. Dookie represented the MTV generation and the fast-food wrapper apathy of the 90’s with ruthless aggression and honesty. I instantly bought a drum set and became the man I am now, without many changes in between.

There’s a certain age (usually 11 or 12), when that one special band finally hits you in the head and changes your outlook on life. In 1993, this band was Green Day. My friend Ben is a little older than me, so for him it was Nirvana in 1991. See? It’s all relative. Say what you want about the band now, but there’s no denying the effect it had on us tweeners in the 90’s.

Let’s see. Stephen King, Green Day…how else can I appear hopelessly dated and stale? Well…

Top 40 Radio in 1988.

I had always wanted to be a DJ, and was addicted to the radio for an entire decade starting in 1985. I thought they had the coolest job in the world, beaming music to kids like me, who were clutching the radio to their ear while their parents slept. Pop radio was my lullabye, and DJ’s were my outlet to the rest of the world. My folks always had the radio on at my house, so my encyclopedic knowledge of music started brewing before I even knew what was going on. When other kids were outside, playing with action figures and sports equipment, I was inside recording variety shows and working on my DJ voice.

My parents thought I was gay, for sure.

(It should be noted that I was a huge fan of radio at a point in history where some of the worst songs of all time were popular. I’m glad I made it out alive. I was also a huge fan of radio at the exact same moment that DJ’s lost all power over what was played on their station.)

Graeme Bennett.


I ran across his ‘blog’ in the 6th grade (the term didn’t exist in 1993), and I thought it was brilliant. With the internet still brand new for consumers, I hadn’t the chance to read peoples’ autobiographical short stories as much as we all take for granted now. The idea that you could read other peoples’ thoughts and ideas online for free was amazing. Of course, this just makes me sound like an old man in 2006.

From what I can gather, Graeme was a big technology commentator from Canada, and he hopped on the personal webpage thing pretty early on in the lifespan of the internet. He was also a genuinely good writer, and I immediately wanted to start a page of my own. 10 years later, I finally did.

Pork Tornado/Salami Tsunami.

This guy is the only blogger I’ve ever read (and I’ve read thousands) that makes me want to be better. He crafts his sentences and jokes with perfect timing and punctuation, his stories are always engaging and unbelievably funny, and he has this way of making the most inane seem hilarious. The concept of the Humorous Essay Blog is an art form that people should appreciate more in culture, and Dusty Scott is like Rembrandt (he can draw, too!). I have absolutely no problem declaring Pork Tornado the Funniest Blog on the Planet.

I found his page by accident, looking for ‘noisy neighbor’ info, and I was instantly hooked. If you’ve noticed any change in writing style over the past 8 months, blame Pork Tornado. Every time I think I’ve done something great, he has something up that’s better. I’m in a constant battle with him, and he doesn’t even know I exist. If the CDP has to take a backseat to one blog, I will bow in acceptance to the glory of Pork Tornado. His millions of hits and huge fanbase will back me up on this one.

I hate him.

Mystery Science Theater 3000/The Simpsons/SNL.

MST3K, SNL and The Simpsons made me smarter, which is something I can’t say about any other comedies. MST3K gave me a crash course in obscure film references, trivia and an anarchist approach to Hollywood, SNL kept me abreast with current US culture and satire, and The Simpsons (specifically John Swartzwelder) turned me on to many aspects of historic America and the future of ironic comedy that shapes me today.

As a kid, my parents wouldn’t let me stay up for SNL, but they would tape it for me. I would watch episodes constantly, analyzing the art of live tv and one-set stages. For years, it was my dream to be on SNL, although I wouldn’t want to do it anymore. Save your calls, Lorne.

I also take pride in knowing more information about these three shows than just about everyone I’ve ever met. At the end of the day, I’ve always stated that MST3K is the greatest television show of all time; even better than The Simpsons. My opinion stems from the fact that while The Simpsons have already peaked in popularity and creativity, MST3K was constantly solid and actually improved over their 10 year run.

Not to mention, an episode of MST3K was 2 hours long and ran for 10 seasons, which is the equivalent to 40 seasons of a typical 30-minute show. That’s a lot of jokes to write.

The Missus.

I wrote her hundreds of pages of letters when we were courting, and each one was a little masterpiece, because I wanted so desperately for her to think I was intelligent and worth her time. These letters turned out to be embarrassingly overwritten and emo-Shakespearean in nature. As much as I’ll be mercilessly made fun of, I’m willing to share a small sample with you, chosen completely at random…

I would trade in everything I’ve ever owned to hold you in my arms until you fell asleep. There’s no hiding it anymore, I have an obsession with you. I can’t leave you alone, and I will stop at nothing until I have you beside me. Once you’re there, you can forget about the world, because I’m never letting you go.

I know I can’t hold you forever, but I’m going to damn sure try.

Holy crap, that was absolutely psychotic. The Missus should have got a restraining order against me, seriously. In my defense, however, this letter was written months after we already started our hot-n-heavy courtship.

Still, though. My goodness, that was insane.

The Kids.

In the 4th and 5th grades, I got into the habit of writing weekly serials for the fellow students. I would create a character and put him or her in an amusing situation every week. Fellow students would line up by my desk on Friday afternoons, waiting to be handed a copy of the latest adventure. Eventually, the teachers got a hold of some of these, and promptly banned me from continuing.

Between you and me, Kickin’ It With Cliff isn’t a new idea. In fact, it’s based on a story I wrote in 1991.

I was also creating cassette tapes with my cousin that had us doing a huge variety of random things, such as singing parody songs, writing essays, doing impromptu sketches, mocking TV shows, doing mock call-in-style radio shows and announcing sporting events. We actually did this for 10 years, spanning from 1986 (I was 4!) to 1996. It was a chance to express all the creative and funny ideas we had concocted in unfinished basements all over Wisconsin (and after staying up for 36 hours straight). While the material on these tapes is absolute gold and a huge part of my childhood, we’ve made a solemn vow to never share them with anyone after 1998.

The idea was to be creative in as many forms as possible, and entertain friends and family as much as possible. I’m still doing that, only now I try to entertain thousands of strangers via the blogosphere. It’s a perfect fit.

So, there you have it. A large, boring chunk of my personal life, spilled into the open like so much toxic waste. Sound off in the comments section and call me a self-absorbed asshole. And while you’re at it, make fun of my influences for good measure.

And while I’m at it, happy Thanksgiving.

Pre-Sweeps Month Checklist.

CDP Sweeps Month
is just around the corner. Are you excited? Personally, I’m tingling with anticipation.

Once again, Sweeps Month is an end-of-the-year blitz to garner as many hits as possible in a 30-day period. In 2004 and 2005, Sweeps Month was the busiest month of each year as far as traffic was concerned, and we’re going to attempt to do it again.

Here are just a few things you can expect in the Month of December:

The CDP Year In Review.
The Worst Album Covers Of All Time – Part Deux.
The Best Comments Of 2006.
The Best Albums Of 2006.
The Best & Worst Of 2006.
CDP Post #500.
The State Of The CDP Speech – 2006.
The Official CDP Podcast.

These particular posts take up a lot of my time, so I’ll be working on them over the next two weeks, to make sure they’re ready come December. In the case of The Best & Worst Of 2006, I need your help.

Last year, I accepted reader e-mails to help me with the Best/Worst post. It worked out quite well, and I wanted to try to do it again. There are a lot more people reading the CDP now than there were in 2005, and I’m always looking for ways to outsource as much work as possible to folks who don’t deserve it.

Here’s how this is going to work:

1. You send an e-mail to communistdance@yahoo.com. In it, state one or all of the following:

a) Your favorite & least favorite Album of 2006.
b) Your favorite & least favorite Film of 2006.
c) Your favorite & least favorite Book of 2006.
d) Your favorite & least favorite TV Show of 2006.
e) Your favorite & least favorite Song of 2006.
f) Your favorite & least favorite Moment In General of 2006.
g) Any other favorites and least favorites you want to mention.

Be creative, be funny and elaborate as much as possible on whatever you want; it matters not. Again, you can talk about just one of these things, or about all of them. The more, the better, though.

2. As an added bonus for participating in CDP Sweeps Month, I want to send everyone who e-mails me some FREE CDP SWAG.

So, if you participate in the Best & Worst of 2006, just include your mailing address in the e-mail, and you’ll be sent FREE CDP stickers, buttons, magnets and maybe more! Your address will be shared by nobody and instantly deleted once the package has been shipped. I couldn’t care less where you live, honestly.

Also, if you still don’t want free merch and don’t care to share your address, you can still e-mail me and participate in the event. It’s as simple as that. The e-mailed comments will be used in the Best/Worst post and attributed to you (not as your real name; your screen name will do).

Here’s a link to last year’s list for inspiration, and the deadline for submissions will be in about two weeks, so get cracking.

I don’t know how I can make this easier. Obviously, if you still want to donate to the CDP or buy merch the other way, the links are on the top of the page. Sound off in the comments section, start e-mailing your responses to communistdance@yahoo.com and enjoy your day.

Kickin’ It With Cliff.

(Today’s post was written by Cliff, the older brother of the CDP. Since 2002, Cliff has been living in the basement of CDP Headquarters, where he has been financially supported and cared for by the CDP and the Missus. This is believed to be his first foray into the Blogosphere.)

Hi, me Cliff. How doing?

Me want to talk to peeple today, becuz Cliff have something to say. Most day, Cliff say nothing. But this impordant. More impordant than Judge judy, which I think on right now.

Everypeeple think CDP so funny. He not. Everypeeple say he so clever and smell nice. Not reely true. I the funny one, he take funny from me and pretend like HE the funny. He steal all my joke, like Robin Williams, only CDP have no drug problem. Me give him that.

Two day ago, he come down in basement, or like me say, Cliff Hedquarters. See? He already take one joke from me! Like I saying, he come down and say, ‘I go to store, want anything?’ I tell him I need new left shoe and wrestling magazeene. He say no problem, he be right back.

When he gone, I sit in dark and eat cold hot dog. He no let me use microwave, becuz I put to-go box in there once and burn house down. Cannot Cliff make one mistake? Cannot he forgive?

When he come back from store, he sez magazeene for him and store don’t sell no left shoes. I know not true, becuz I used to work at store as greeter. I say hi to magic door when it open, sit on stool, make 10 cents a day. When I tell him he lying, he say I can’t read anyway and don’t need to wear shoes.

He make a good point. But still mean.

Me a writer, too. He learn from big brother how to make storys good. I tell him that peeple like to reed about scary things, like fireworks and baloons. I say that they both pop and make loud noise, and that scary as hell to me. He take me to firework show in July, me poop on car hood and try to make a brake for it. I run over 14 kids in park, crash station wagon into lake Michigan.

He very mad that day. He say, ‘You live in basement forever now.’

Feemale kids and teens his target demo, so I tell him to be hip and cool on blog page, like the MTV. I say, ‘You get Xzibit to pimp blog.’

He cut cable in basement, I not know what cool anymore.

Me not even supposed to be on computer. He spend $1600 on new Mack, tell me I no touch it ever. He no tell me what to do, though, I my own man. He just scared I tell wife about seecret naked folder he have. He no have naked foto of actress or news ankor, he just have naked fotos of himself. Me no know why he take so many, or why. All I know is he need to see doctor more than me.

I hear his car in driveway, better go back to basement. Me take a few hot dog for the road, though.

I Cliff. Me funny, too.

(You can e-mail questions to Cliff at communistdance@yahoo.com, and he will answer them in the order that they are received. Depending on the fluxuating state of Cliff’s well-being, he will be featured every Friday during Lost’s absence.)

Outernational Incident.

Outernational Incident.Another Outernational Incident.

Step #1 – Buy some CDP merch.
Step #2 – Take a photo of yourself enjoying CDP merch.
Step #3 – E-mail photos to me.
Step #4 – Profit!

Here we see JT of Spork Nation and The CDP Network fame, enjoying a beverage and supporting his favorite college sports franchise, all while demonstrating his undying support and loyalty to the CDP. This made my day, and I hope it makes yours as well. The PBR belt buckle and dapper hat only sweetens the deal.

Speaking of CDP Swag, during Sweeps Month this December, stay tuned for your chance to snag some FREE CDP merch to claim as your own. In the meantime, sound off in the comments section and e-mail all photos to communistdance@yahoo.com.

Before I head out today, I wanted to share just one more photo of a CDP Network alumni. Here’s a shot of our good friend Paste, taken from his MySpace page:

Paste, rocking the beard.

And here’s a photo of indie hip-hop superstar Sage Francis at a recent show:

Sage, rocking the beard.

You know, not only have I never seen these two in the same room together, I have noticed Paste busting a lot more rhymes as of late. Could it be?


International Incident.

Oh, Canada.

Dear Friends, Family, Fans and Casual Readers of the CDP:

Last Friday, my normally crisp and poetic writing style was marred by a cheap insult against Canadians. During the CDP‘s weekly “Lost Friday,” a wildly popular and hilarious roundup of the previous week’s episode of Lost, I made the following slur:

“As an aside, Kate must really want to be captured by the law. Either that, or she’s just a stone-dumb Canuck that’s attracted to trauma. I’d apologize to my Canadian fans, but I doubt I have any. Besides, they don’t read good”

This, my friends, was shameful. I deserved to be called out on it, and I was.

No less than three hours after the post went public, I received this e-mail from a woman residing in Winnipeg, Manitoba:

How could you say that about Canadians, you do have Canadians fans and I am/was one of them! Plus remember this “character” is not real and in fact made up by American writers.

The CDP normally gets about a dozen e-mails a week, but this one was especially important to me, as it was one of the very few that I got from outside of the country. Also, it was important because I not only insulted the Greatest Country in the World, I insulted a CDP fan.

I quickly replied with the following, which I am now making public for the world to see:

Boy, is my face red. A serious apology is in order.

I was joking, but you should expect better from me, and I’m sorry. I absolutely love Canada; my dream is to move to Toronto one day with the Missus. We were lucky enough to spend a few weeks in Ontario last year, and it was truly unforgettable.

Cheap laughs be damned! You have my word as an American citizen (however much weight that carries nowadays) that I will never, EVER use the wonderful country of Canada as a stepping stone for a throwaway joke again.

You also have my word that I will be making this apology public on the CDP next week. I really appreciate you taking the time to write me, and I hope that you continue to be entertained by the CDP in the future. I’m an ass, and I deserved this wake-up call far more than you deserved to be insulted by me.

Promise kept. I’m a man of my word.

A few minutes later, I got this reply from her:

Wow! Not only was that a fast response, but very genuine and sweet. I knew you were kidding, but thought I would let you know you do have Canadian fans. Thanks, I wasn’t even expecting a response. Ok, I am still a fan of your site and glad we cleared the air. Thanks so much, take care!

Who says that US/Canada relations are strained? This is how you resolve conflict! We traded a few more pleasant e-mails and called it a day, thus allowing me to sleep peacefully that evening.

Enjoy your day. Sound off in the comments section, and tell me what you’re doing to avoid International incident.


I’m Not Here To Serve You.

I'm not here to serve you.

“Why I will never, ever, freaking ever be a waiter as long as I’m on this Earth.”

-By: theCDP.

As a man with a sparkling personality, devastating sex appeal and an inviting scent, most people who meet me think I would make a terrific waiter. To support this argument, they remark at how good I am with small details and my ability to make large groups of people feel uncomfortable without even trying. They claim it’s a gift from God; my therapist and I think otherwise.

I’ve had a lot of Public Relation jobs in my life. Bartender, Customer Service Representative, gas station attendant, strip club DJ, rock slanga’, cameraman for Guys Gone Wild and a brief stand-in for Peter Jennings shortly before he died. I’ve never been a waiter, however. My reasons for this are pretty simple, if you ask me.

I can’t tolerate anyone, and I don’t like to walk and carry things at the same time.

Me and the Missus go out to eat about 10 times a month. We do this because we’re too lazy to go grocery shopping every 2 weeks, as initially agreed upon by contract when we started living together. Nope, we instead spend $60 a night, grinding our teeth in a nice restaurant, thinking of ways to telepathically poison the food of the party next to us and wishing we were at home.

For years, I cursed my luck, thinking that I was consistently sat next to the most annoying table at whichever eatery I happened to be dining at. Nowadays, I know better; every table is annoying, because everyone in the world is annoying.

Even you. Probably even the Missus, but not me. I’m sure of it.

No matter where I am, no matter the restaurant, no matter the city or state, I’m always seated next to one of the following groups. Allow me to elaborate:

Table #1 – Attention-seeking children; non-responsive parents. 96% of families in general.

Look, just because you’ve found a way to tune out the sound of your childrens’ voices, that doesn’t mean that everyone else at The Olive Garden* has. If your kid says “Mom!” one more time without you responding to them, I will pick them up by the ankles and beat you to death with your own kid. If you are physically unable to raise a child to keep their mouth shut when at a public place, you have failed as a parent and should never be allowed to enjoy a meal outside of your loud, and no doubt filthy, home.

*Still my favorite chain restaurant.

When I was a kid, it was naturally assumed that children had absolutely nothing of importance to say to adults, and the mere thought of addressing one was met with a look of disapproval and certain death. Not only does that teach respect, terror and good behavior, it also reminds you not to say anything unless it’s important. For example, if his or her pants were on fire, or he or she was in the clutches of a registered sex offender. Any other circumstance- denied!

Furthermore, I always see parents and their horrid spawn at expensive and ‘upscale‘ places. Why? Not only are you going to spend $200 on a meal that your kids aren’t going to even touch, you’ve also ruined a decent night out for those of us who aren’t inconsiderate mongoloids. If all you were looking for was an easy way to waste a bunch of money, you should have just donated it to Coats For Kids. Kids don’t need coats, dumbass.

Another thing that I see all the time are children leaving their tables and walking around unsupervised. No less than 20 times have I been eating, only to look to my immediate right and see some kid staring at me, typically covered in a sauce of some sort. In most cases, I wave the knife around a little and they back away. However, there are those times where I run into a child that’s more dense than a black hole, opting to stand next to my table and stare until their parents finally realize that they have strayed.

New rule, parents. If your kid stands by my table for one second longer than a minute, they become my property. I will then kill them, hollow them out and use their husks to smuggle meth across the border. You may have thought that story was just an urban legend, but I’m going to make it a reality with precious Tyler and Cheyenne.

Restaurants should also start stocking chairs that have seatbelts on them. Just a thought.

Now that smoking is pretty much banned in every restaurant in America, I propose that we have a section for families and groups of five or more people, and a second section for adult parties of four or less. Not only does that keep the noise and annoyance where it should be, but I can also fulfill my fantasy of eating an expensive dinner in the nude; this time, without Dateline NBC busting in with their fancy hidden cameras and litigations.

In short, children shouldn’t be allowed into any restaurant that doesn’t have a kid’s menu. And even then, they probably shouldn’t.

(If you’re one of the very few families that has children who are well-behaved enough to eat in public, pat yourself on the back. Then fly to the Space Station on the wings of a unicorn, because you don’t really exist.)

Table #2 – Groups of teenagers. Specifically girls.

If there’s one thing worse than a group of butthole parents and their equally-butthole children, it’s a group of unmonitored teenage girls, demonstrating why they should still be chaperoned by Daddy and huddled in the back of a diesel-powered mini-van.

Now, before you start calling me a sexist, I’ll have you know that I ran this theory by the Missus and she approved it. If at least one woman agrees with me, it can no longer be called sexist. Much like me making fun of fat people as long as one fat person thinks it’s funny. Thanks Cliff, you’ve unlocked months of comedy gold for me.

Most teenage girls that congregate in groups like to talk quickly and loudly about tough issues that matter, like politics, religion and how fat Dakota’s ass looks in that skirt. They laugh way too loud at things that are in no way humorous, are almost always rude to the waitstaff (if it’s a woman, especially), and are usually so stone-dumb that it’s embarrassing to even eavesdrop. Furthermore, they always want to talk to whoever’s on their phone far more than whoever’s at the table. Next time, they should really invite the person that’s on the phone, and they can skip a step.

Oh, and it goes without saying that you may want to silence your phone before you go into a restaurant. If you happen to be sitting next to me, I have a little system I like to follow:

If your phone is silenced during the meal: You will live. Dinner will continue as planned.

If your phone rings, and you immediately silence it: I will be annoyed, but forgiving. Even I forget to silence my phone at times, but my ringtone is so rad that people actually ask me to play it for them again.

If your phone rings, and you let it ring until your voicemail picks up:
Your tires will be slashed upon exiting the eatery. Anything left on the dash will be stolen.

If your phone rings and you answer it: It’s over. I hope you’re having a good meal, because you’ll be seeing it again when I tear your stomach open with a broken bottle of Pabst.

If it turns out to be an emergency and you have to immediately leave the restaurant, that’s fine by me. Just as long as you don’t get to enjoy your meal, and someone that you know is potentially injured or killed. What’s important is that I’m happier than you.

Table #3 – The Snobs.

On most Sunday mornings, you can find me and the Missus at a place called Sir Hobo’s. Hobo’s is a diner a few blocks from our house that serves breakfast anytime and is run by a pushy Greek family. I like this place for a number of reasons. The food is cheap, the place is usually empty, everything’s covered in grease, and it’s owned by a pushy Greek family. If anything, I’m just happy that places like this still exist in big cities.

Me and the Missus can go there wearing hoodies and caps to cover our unwashed hair, still confident that there will be people at the bar looking worse than us. Nobody knows who we are, we’re never approached by acquaintances or co-workers, and the waitresses don’t want to chat. In fact, they all but throw your plates down on the counter, and everything’s scalding, even the milk*. I enjoy this more than I can accurately convey.

*You’ll laugh later; that’s really, truly funny.

Last Sunday, we were seated next to a well-scrubbed family of four, who had clearly never been to Sir Hobo’s before. They were dressed as if they just left church (which they probably had). I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a Range Rover parked outside with golf clubs sticking out of the back, all set for a relaxing drive to the country club to discuss fine wines and munch on unborn baby Yak cheese, or whatever it is that rich people eat when they’re around company.

Such a funny sentence.

So, the deep-voiced and not-at-all-to-be-messed-with Greek waitress comes over to take their order. For the next five minutes, she has to stand and listen to a lecture on the differences between wheat bread and whole wheat bread, even though I’m quite certain that Sir Hobo’s has neither nor. When they finally settled on an order that suited them, I heard them continuing to berate this poor woman after she left, for being so clearly uneducated in the fine workings of wheatiness.

Unless it’s deep-fried and over 1000 calories, you won’t find it there. I promise.

I was vibrating with anger. It was completely unnecessary and unspeakably rude. The id in me wanted to jump the booth and piledrive both Soccer Mom and Country Club Dad with ruthless aggression, but I guess I’m not that kind of guy. Next time, however, they won’t be so lucky.

I could go on for a few hours longer, but in short, I wouldn’t be a very good waiter.

Enjoy your day; sound off in the comments section and let me know if you would want me as your waiter.

Lost Friday – "I Do."

Lost Friday - I Do.
Season 3 – Episode 6: “I Do.”

The final Lost Friday of the year is upon us; we have much to discuss.

Unless you’re some kind of jerkass, you really couldn’t ask for a better episode than this. In addition to a massive cliffhanger, we once again had the lives of several people up in the air, Ben Linus splayed open like a smoked salmon and Jack finally acting like a man again. If that wasn’t good enough for you, it was all topped off with a wee dab of intercourse.

That, my friends, is TV-14 television at its finest. A little bit of D, a pinch of S, and a whole lot of L and V.

Kick A.

As you know, “I Do” was the last episode of Lost until February 7, 2007. For those who dislike counting, that’s 12 weeks of lackluster programming and Taye Diggs, or whoever that black guy is in the mid-season replacement show. This is all quite unacceptable, yes, but the payoff will be worth it. Sixteen straight new episodes, right up to the Season Three Finale in mid-May. It’s going to be a long winter, but with Global Warming, you’ll barely notice it.

Please refrain from slitting your wrists just yet, it’s time for the Thick & Meaty.

(Written by the CDP. Enjoyed by you.)

It days I'm special!
(Jack consults his Cap’n Crunch Treasure map for further advice.)

In flashbacks, we see Kate (Monica), fresh on the run after gone done exploding her abusive Stepfather. She’s very much in love with a police officer named Kevin, who apparently isn’t a very intuitive man of the law. I mean, what cop doesn’t run a background check on their fiancee? Either way, Kevin and Kate are going to get married soon, as we see Kate naked for the second time in three weeks.

As an aside, Kate must really want to be captured by the law, wanting to marry a cop. Either that, or she’s just a stone-dumb Canuck* that’s attracted to trauma. I’ve known a few women like that; that’s probably what it is. Let’s move on.

*I’d apologize to my Canadian fans, but I doubt I have any. Besides, they don’t read good.

Kate gives the Marshall a call and tells him to stop doing his job. He agrees, shuts his computer off and immediately goes home. Shortly thereafter, Kate, who makes good decisions at a rate that’s about as poor as Michael, spills it to Kevin, drugs him and flees the scene. When Kevin comes to, he proceeds to bring all of his sports memorabilia back out of the basement and redecorates the house in his underwear.

Why haven't I gotten a raise?
(Meet Kevin: Cop of the Year.)


Back on the original island, Locke, Sayid and Desmond, along with pseudo-Boone and Shannon, hold a funeral for Mr. Eko. Locke recites the rap song I wrote for him last week, and Sayid breakdances briefly on some cardboard. This rekindles Locke’s thoughts of destiny, which leads him back to Eko’s Boom Stick. Eko, thinking ahead, carved a seemingly specific message for Locke, who gets all spooky-eyed as we fade out.

Easiest jobs ever.
(Nikki and Paulo combined have 3 more lines than I have on this show.)


On the Hydra island, Jack informs Ben that he’s not going to perform surgery because he doesn’t have any insurance. Ben insists that he has an HMO; Jack punches him in the face.

In the polar bear cages, Kate gets hauled off to work, while Sawyer takes the day off so he can get shot in the face by Pickett. Kate objects, so the execution is held off until after the hard labor. During this time, Alex runs out with a slingshot and nails a few Others in a flurry of pointy rocks. She informs Kate that they’re going to kill Sawyer, just like they killed Alex’s boyfriend; presumably Karl*. The Others, realizing that slingshots can’t hurt anyone over the age of 10, takes her down and drags her off. Kate gets naked for some reason.

*Karl was the teen originally in the bear cage; featured for less than 8 seconds.

Juliet informs Kate that they plan on capping Sawyer unless she convinces Jack to do the surgery on Ben. That’s 5 names in one sentence; please try to keep up with me.

(“Knock it off, Roy! You’re like, 5 feet away from me!”)

In an awkward meeting, Jack gets jealous over what Kate’s willing to do for Sawyer and has a bit of a tantrum. Kate cries and takes her clothes off.

Upon returning to the cages, Kate brings Sawyer up to date and demands they make a break for it. Sawyer, knowing that there’s no escape from Hydra Island, breaks the news to Kate and gets a little weepy. Kate comes over and gets naked, as we all try to pretend that what we’re seeing is erotic. The camera pans over to a roaring fireplace, then mercifully fades to black.

I take a leak and proceed to eat Cheese Whiz directly from the can. You really didn’t need to know that.

Kate and Sawyer proclaim their love for each other, which marks the first time that someone said something completely regretful immediately following sex. I’m glad it was captured on tape for posterity purposes. This is why men fall asleep instantly thereafter*; it’s so they don’t accidentally promise to buy a Tennis Bracelet or clean the garage.

*I’m not one of those guys. My garage is spotless and the Missus is diamond-encrusted.

Much better.
(This is the best Kate’s looked all episode.)

In the shark cage, Jack hears Alex’s voice on the intercom, telling him to try the door. It’s unlocked, so he heads off in search of television and guns. He finds Ben’s control room, and observes Kate and Sawyer basking in the afterglow. This upsets him a bit, causing his gears to turn and eventually agreeing to do the surgery on Ben. His only demand is to get off the island, and possibly get his hands on the uncut surveillance tape of Kate and Sawyer.

Ben agrees, and offers to make popcorn.

During the operation, Jack slices open Ben’s kidney on purpose, giving him about an hour to live. He starts barking demands, unknowingly saving Sawyer from execution. He tells Kate via-walkie-talkie to head for the hills, not knowing that they’re on a different island. Kate refuses to leave without Saywer, and everyone’s looking confused and sweaty as we smash cut to black.

Kate gets naked.


Good stuff, really. Let’s break it down, like Hasselhoff on the Berlin Wall.

(Because people are more apt to read things when presented in list form.)

What a brain-teaser!
(A vase, or two faces?)

4 – Kate is the sex symbol of the island? Fur realz? Now I see why they had to throw Vikki and Pablo* into the mix. They needed some woman, any woman to make us think that Kate was cuter by comparison. Oh, and keep her away from Sun at all times. That would ruin the illusion.

Well, I’m not buying it. Here’s a photo, though.

*This is how little I care about Nikki and Paulo.

8 – Why didn’t Desmond see Eko’s death coming? Apparently, he’s a racist clairvoyant.

15 – I like how when a character dies on Lost, their corpse always shows up next week for the funeral. It’s like a free paycheck!

16 – It would appear that Ben and Juliet adopted Alex as their own when they stole her from Rousseau back in the day. Nothing funny there; just thought I’d let you know.

Um…let’s see. I need a joke, here. Something to end this bit on a funny note. Think, man. Think!


Whew; dodged a bullet, there.

It's only $15 a month!
(If Ben got TiVo, he wouldn’t have to do this.)

23 – “Shepard wasn’t even on Jacob’s list.” Who’s Jacob, and why/how did he make the list? The rumors are circulating that Jacob might be the mythical “Him.” Hell, he might not even live on the island. He might even be me; I’m not sure at this point.

42 – The last 15 minutes of this show was about as good as TV drama gets. It was spectacular, and you should probably watch it again if you can. In actuality, you should watch it every week for the next 12 weeks. It’s all we have.

It’s all we have.



You see, here’s the thing. Lost Friday will return in February with a Complete Season Three Recap, getting us all set up for the remainder of the year. The CDP, however, isn’t going anywhere. In December, you can expect to see Best Of 2006 lists for just about everything, the CDP Year In Review, the very first CDP Podcast, merch giveaways and much more.

Sound off in the comments section, or send an e-mail to communistdance@yahoo.com. To quell your Lost fix, head on over to The Coconut Internet and say hello. If you want to donate or purchase CDP merch, the links are on top. Every other Lost Friday for the season is listed below. Thanks for reading, we’ll see you Monday.

Tonight’s Special Is The “I Kill You Now.

Season 3 Preview
Season 3 – Episode 1 Review
Season 3 – Episode 2 Review
Season 3 – Episode 3 Review
Season 3 – Episode 4 Review
Season 3 – Episode 5 Review

CDP Wayback Machine – Food Court Edition.

Wisconsin is for lovers.

Once again, it’s time to step into the CDP Wayback Machine. Please remove your shoes and wipe that dumbass grin off your face. Seriously, Frank. You’re creeping me out and I won’t ask again.

In the spirit of starting the Holiday season earlier and earlier every year, let’s check out a CDP Classic from 1 year ago this week…

November 13, 2005 – “Let’s Go To The Mall.

In current news, CDP Headquarters just received a huge box of merch which we will be giving away during our 3rd Annual CDP Sweeps Month this December. Stick around to find out how you can get your mitts on FREE CDP shirts, stickers, magnets, buttons and more! Otherwise, you can do it the non-loser way and order your goods from the CDP Webstore.

On Tuesday, Guitar Hero II is released, and you won’t be hearing from me for quite some time. In fact, I should be grabbing my sleeping bag and heading to the nearest Best Buy, post-haste.

On Wednesday, you can say hello and have a beer with me at the High Noon Saloon in Madison, Wisconsin, where I will be a celebrity judge for the 2006 Funniest Comedian In Madison competition. The show starts at 7pm, and I should be arrested at around 9.

On Thursday, the CDP‘s brand new computer is being delivered. Please don’t tell my mother, or anyone else for that matter. It’s everything I’ve ever needed, at a price I can’t quite afford.

A brand-new Lost Friday rounds out the week. Let’s see how much of that Fark traffic sticks around; I got 5,000 hits in the last three days.

Before I head out today, me and the Missus were on national television for about 2 seconds last Friday. What was captured was a look of complete confusion on the Missus, and a typical moment of raw, unrestrained sexuality from yours truly. Let’s go to the tape, shall we?

(I’m not too hard to spot.)

(If this isn’t the funniest photo you’ve seen all day, you might want to consider not coming here anymore.)

Sound off in the comments section, and enjoy your Monday.