Seek Ye the Dickheads: O's Revenge and the Second Rejection

I know some of you have been clamoring for this since it came in, and I'm not one to deny. However, a word of warning: O has taken a turn for the incomprehensible. Since I can't make heads or tails of what he's talking about, I used Aaron's incredibly funny rejection of O's first submission to reject his second submission (it's posted below O's letter).

So, without further ado, take it away O (once again, I left his grammar and spelling as it was when it came in):

Dear One-Fourth of Nothing,

how sad for you that your attempt to criticise a supposedly clichéd "harangue" is so terribly clichéd. Sarcasm, the last resort of the feeble minded with nothing better to say. At least you are consistent, that is some positive feedback for you. Your idiocy is unrelenting, congratulations.Your attempt at litotes is as self-serving as the rest of your convalescent drivel. "Oh thank you, we had no idea we were so important". The quantity of your inability was never called into question (refer to remarks regarding your consistent intellect above). It was rather, and obviously, your unfortunate QUALITY of being without ability that was pointed out. Your insignificance does nothing to alter your crapness.

At least you have lived up to my epitath for you and the other three-fourths of vacuity: smarmy. Little MFA graduates with little talent and little minds form little magazine with self-proclaiming online presence in burgeoning niche market. That's what they told you at grad school, find out what no one else is doing and jump on that opportunity. For what? To cover your own disasterous attempt to be involved with literature as this simply proved to our poor little four friends how hopeless their reltionship there-to really was. The pathetic nature of this sad tale is revealed finally in that your glowing consolation prize is in fact a booby-prize. Your masthead should proudly read, a proclaimation of untalent.

You will never be able to cover the fact that you debased morons have publically professed to the world that you have the editorial perspective and right to tell people what does and does not qualify them as poets and you have said it as follows: a poet is someone who has necessarily read Yeats. Your ideas and minds, not mine.

Seek ye the dickheads?

This is not a case of one line reductionism, but rather the happy circumstance of one line
encapsulating and expressing an essence so well and so completely. Your stupidity, your talentlessness, your unapologetic hypocrisy. Oh, but of course you are a part of the wonderful legacy of true to god American culture. Why don't you raise yourself up there on that pedestal? If yer don't blow yers own trumpet, sure's hell ain't no-in else gun do it fer ya, are ent dey boy?It pleases me to no end to have you recognise for whom Toole intended the label and that you so eagerly wrap it about yourselves; a confederacy of dunces you are indeed. I suggest you four ol' pals give up that shining American ambition to succeed in the face of your poorly given gifts OR accept that you are just businessmen and businesswomen representing that god given right to conduct business that Americans defend to the death (usually of others) and drop the facade of literature.Fast talking swift marketing demographic positioning losers. That is what you are.

You are not capable of the harsh self-examination needed to even begin the path of becoming artist. There is no more story here, no depth. Like the whole concept you represent you people are just the one-dimensional death gasps of a dying culture: American Idiocy. A tradition y'all can be proud of!

What you need to pass on is yourselves.

O.

And, in case you missed it the first time around, here's the second rejection (I added a note of my own at the end):

My dear Oleg,

Thank you for your submission to the online edition of Barrelhouse. We really appreciate the time you took to put your manuscript together, but I'm afraid we're going to have to pass on it.

Here's why:

In the pseudo-drama that must be your life, you must know, as per our good friend T.S. Eliot, that something in the play must concretely correlate, objectively, to the emotions expressed of the protagonist. And Eliot, a harsh judge he, ascertained that Shakespeare's Hamlet failed in meeting this standard of Objective Correlative, for there was no true object worthy of Hamlet's existential crisis.

And yet, sometimes I too wish to create tests and have people greater than me fail in them.
Oh Jonathan Franzen, you're work The Corrections is indeed highly praised, but it fails my own personal test, that is, The Plausibly Named Younger Brother Test. For lo! No one I know is named Chip, except indeed for the California Highway Patrol. And thus, though you indeed managed something magnificent, ultimately you failed. I would have picked Roger, or Devon, or Reyshawn.

So you see, dear Oleg, for that is the name I have assigned you, for it is Perfectly Plausible Given
What We Know Of Your Whole Name Through Your Email Address. You, the protagonist, have chosen an object unworthy of your talents. We at Barrelhouse are like a yet innocent Claudius, he only contemplating a regicide and not yet a regicidian. But yet, you anguish as if we had already done the deed!

Fie! Dear Oleg, and wait patiently in the shadows, for I assure you our project is to destroy literature but yet we do not yet have the power!! But we will!!! WE WILL!! HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now I must go, for I have failed many other tests, including the Patience of the Reader Test. Fie! Fie! Anon!!

As always, I want to emphasize that this is the subjective opinion of one reader, so take it for what you will. Once again, thank you for your submission. We hope you find a home for your work in the future.

Aaron
One Fourth of Team Barrelhouse
www.barrelhousemag.com

PS: Oleg, if you're going to be in the Washington, DC-area on March 24, please drop by the reading Barrelhouse is hosting at the Warehouse Theatre's screening room. It starts around 8 pm and in addition to stories from the first two issues of the magazine, you may be flattered to hear that we will be readings sections of your submissions to what promises to be a packed auditorium. While we feel your works don't quite meet our idiosyncratic standards for the print journal or the website, we believe speaking them aloud in the voice of an emotionally disturbed eight-year-old will bring down the house in ways you couldn't have possibly predicted.

Hope to see you there.

Check out the Barrelhouse blog, the newest addition to our site, firmly planted in the low-culture side of things: http://barrelhousemag.blogspot.com/

Sign up for our email list to receive regular updates on all things Barrelhouse:http://www.barrelhousemag.com/elist.html

Point Break LIVE!

If you read Barrelhouse and live in the New York area you can't miss this.

Upon Receipt of Our First Hate Letter

Success is measured in different ways by different people. A musician probably experiences it the first time he hears one of his songs on the radio, an author when he receives a letter saying a magazine wants to publish his first short story. However, we at Barrelhouse realized how successful we are the other day when we got our first piece of hate mail. Frankly, I’m disappointed it took a year and a half. I figured our brand of foolishness would stick in the craw of all sorts of people a lot quicker than that.

But what o.mitevski@hush.com lacked in speed he made up for in intensity. We must have really got to this dude because not only did he send his rant to the poetry email account, but he copied the fiction, nonfiction, and online boxes as well.

Now, being the discerning, considerate editor I am, I had to consider—given that the word “submission” does appear in the subject line of his e-mail—that this was a legitimate attempt by O to have his story posted on the Barrelhouse website. Unfortunately, even as a parody of an anti-fan letter, which I assumed O’s piece was when I responded, it didn’t quite cut the mustard. Just for laughs, I’ve pasted O’s letter as well as my response below.

Now don’t forget people, we still have to reject this piece three more times—once from the fiction box, once from the nonfiction box, and once from the poetry box. So please, feel free to write a response to his sub and post it in the comments section. Hell, respond to him directly if you feel like it. That’s his actual email address above.

And yes, I totally realize that this is quickly becoming far too much like that episode of The West Wing where Josh finds out there’s a website about him and becomes obsessed with it, but I’m really bored at work and O’s letter was too much fun to pass up.

So without further ado, take it away O:

Dear Barrelhouse,
I came upon your website from webdelsol and wonder to whom do I send the cleaning bill for my keyboard? Your site, which conveyed not only your pretensions, your false claims to anti-academic leanings but also your sheer lack of intellect, taste and capacity, forced me to puke all over my desk thereby ruining my keyboard. Someone there must take responsibility for this. When you say things like: "...if you haven’t read Yeats, you aren’t a poet yet..." one must wonder what rock you imbeciles crawled out from under? I mean the sheer audacity that you sit there telling people what does and does not qualify them as poets just makes my mind riot but that you choose Yeats as your God-of-all-poetry and then claim a low-brow position for yourselves? YOU ARE IDIOTS! Worse than this, you are inconsistent and self-contradictory idiots which makes you simply hypocrits [sic].

It is smarmy worthless dolts such as yourselves that are doing more harm to the future of literature than anything else. You are simply further degradations of culture that American idiocy represents and it is going to give me great pleasure to demote, trash, bad-mouth, despise and ridicule your magazine at every opportunity to every person I know.

You, all, collectively, disgust me.
O.

My response:

Dear O.,

Thank you for your submission to the online edition of Barrelhouse. We really appreciate the time you took to put your manuscript together, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to pass on it.

First, we’ll get with the positive feedback. The best thing about “Just a Note” is the voice; it really works. Your ability to adopt the personality of an elitist dickhead masquerading as a populist dickhead is impressive, mostly because your narrator pulls out all the stops: massive overstatements, the distilling of an entire publication’s ethos down to one sentence, epochal overreactions, and remarkable inattention to detail (as in, how does holding Yeats in high regard make someone an academic? How does holding Yeats in low regard make someone an anti-academic? Perhaps these are ideas you can further explore in a second draft?). This guy covers all the bases. What’s more, you keep his voice consistent throughout. Not everyone can generate the Ignatius J. Reilly-esque harangue you’ve managed to provide and have it come off as genuine, so good job.

You must’ve worked at this for days.

However, as stated above, there are some problems with your piece, predominately the rampant use of clichés. This is most notable in the opening paragraph, the bit about vomiting on your keyboard and blaming the people who offended you so much as to raise your bile. It’s something that’s been done to death, meaning you probably could have found a more original way to begin. But, it should be noted that your narrator’s attempt to turn this cliché on its head—by using his keyboard rather than his suit/lunch/cat—was valiant, though failed.

And finally, even though overstatement is an important component of effective parodies (as we implied above), the best ones are those that extend just over the line separating reality from delusion while, at the same time, retaining a semblance of believability. This being said, we feel you went too far at only one point in “Just a Note.” You state, “It is smarmy worthless dolts such as yourselves that are doing more harm to the future of literature than anything else. You are simply further degradations of culture that American idiocy represents.” You are obviously a big fan of Barrelhouse to say this because it drastically overstates the ramifications of the size of our, admittedly, limited readership. If Barrelhouse increased its subscription rate by a factor of 10,000, if it was sold in every book store on the planet (from our lips, to God’s ears), if people handed it accolades like the National Magazine Award, it still couldn’t possibly have the effect on literature your narrator implies. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would honestly believe that a literary magazine, of all things, much less one with our readership, could cause any lasting harm to the 400 years of beautiful tradition that is American literature, a tradition encapsulating writers as diverse as Anne Bradstreet and George Saunders, Mark Twain and Phillip Roth, Edgar Allan Poe and Toni Morrison. The only thing that could stop that train is the total decimation of the planet Earth; Barrelhouse certainly isn’t up to the task, no matter how much we suck.

No way. It’s just too crazy.

Anyway, these are the totally subjective opinions of one reader, so take them for what you will.

And thanks again for your submission. We hope you find a home for your work in the future.

All the best,

Joe
One Fourth of Team Barrelhouse
http://www.barrelhousemag.com/

Check out the Barrelhouse blog, the newest addition to our site, firmly planted in the low-culture side of things:
http://barrelhousemag.blogspot.com/

Sign up for our email list to receive regular updates on all things Barrelhouse:
http://www.barrelhousemag.com/elist.html

Night of Fire

I'm too lazy to go in search of funny press releases today. So, instead, please enjoy this video. If it doesn't get you pumped for the weekend, nothing will.

Then, once you're good and pumped, you can learn some hot dance moves here: The Squat, The Point and Squat, The Double Squat Spin and Clap and Point, and the Caucasion Clap.

An Open Letter From David Cross to Larry the Cable Guy

With a name like that, it's gotta be good. Thanks to the constantly entertaining and always updated Backwards City blog for turning me on to this. Here's a sample of David Cross's Open Letter to Larry the Cable Guy:

...let me say this: you are very mistaken if you think that I don't know your audience...I cut my teeth in the south and my first road gigs ever were in Augusta, Charleston, Baton Rouge, and Louisville. I remember them very well, specifically because of the audience. I remember thinking (occasionally, not all the time) "what a bunch of dumb redneck, easily entertained, ignorant motherfuckers. I can't believe the stupid shit they think is funny."

Check it out here.

Is Paul Walker the Next Keanu Reeves?

Is Paul Walker the next stone faced action star? And if so, who is the next Sandra Bullock? Discuss.

Lisa Loeb is a Sure Thing if You don't Screw It Up Like You Just Did.

I was stunned to hear not only that Lisa Loeb, The Cutest Woman Ever, had ended her 6-year relationship with Dweezil Zappa, but that she was going to have her own reality show where she tried to find a mate. If I had known that, I would have embarked on my Self Actualization Program sooner, so as to present myself to the adorable Ms. Loeb as Love's fait accompli.

But I have had to settle for watching her show and writing her dozens of letters and emails and faxes that are nearly illegible with passion.

Basically, the show's premise was initially to highlight how desperate Lisa is to find a husband to settle down with and have kids. However, it quickly becomes clear that Lisa Loeb is of such pleasing temperament and personality that she is willing to give literally any guy a chance. And I mean that in a good way. She seems to be at ease with anyone.

In fact, she is so nice and kind and courteous and normal that her dates can't handle it, and they continually screw it up by acting like jerks or taking advantage of her. After two chaste dates, her first contestant planted an item in Page Six about them being a couple in order to promote his book about Festivus. Another date answered 8 cell phone calls and then left early, while a third--an Italian textile heir--just seemed really uncomfortable around women. The fourth guy, whom Lisa rejected because of his age, told her he hated pink, which just so happened to be her favorite color, and made her buy an unpink item at the store. I mean, what girl doesn't like pink and what guy in any sort of committed relationship doesn't have to put up with that?

As the episodes drag on, I hope that Lisa Loeb, the Cutest Woman Ever, will have better luck. But not with me. Because I realize now that my motives aren't pure; I would use her to get myself a recording contract with Sony.

Code Whack

Wow! I have never seen such a poorly handled "cliffhanger" than the Second Part of the Grey's Anatomy. SPOILER: Suffice it to say they remove the bomb and get it out of the OR but halfway down the corridor the bomb blows up and Meredith is caught on the edge of the blast and the 2-3 Bomb Squad guys are vaporized and flaming papers are falling on the floor and could it spread and is the whole building going to go up!?! and Cut! to commercial.

When they come back, it's like nothing happened. the two patients live, all the doctors run back to each other, display their true emotions etc. etc. and people get all whiny and crap, the romantic music cues and old lovers reminisce....but they don't even mention the Bomb Squad guys. It's like they didn't even exist. And one of them you were thinking maybe because of the intense experience he and Meredith would hook up or something, a la Keanu and Sandra.

This show must be getting desperate. The shift in tone from the explosion to the commercial, and then back to the triumphant doctors coming out of the elevator was jarring to say the least. And previously, Meredith and Bomb Squad Dude #1 had a "moment" at a crucial part of the removal, as Meredith was about to lose it. BSD says "think of me as someone you like" and so you expect for Ellen Pompeo as Meredith to actually "act" as she comes to her senses and you all know who she is thinking of...instead, they "cut" to a dream sequence where BSD is replaced by Dr. Dreamy, and he is reassuring her. How lazy is that?

And if you wanted to make the argument that "Hollywood is out of touch with Middle America" then you couldn't do much worse than to use this episode as Exhibit A, wherein imperious Doctors reign supreme (while breaking all the rules) while Nurses are nowhere to be seen, Paramedics run away, and the Bomb Squad gets blown to hell. Meanwhile, the show's main characters, who are whiny, self-absorbed, and promiscuous, don't even care enough to take 5 seconds away from their bitching to acknowledge the team's sacrifice.

But Katherine Heigl is hot.

Batman's Commute

A friend of mine sent me an email containing questions about Batman's commute. He raises some good points so I decided to post his entire message on the blog. If nothing else, this proves Anthro Ph.D. candidates at Cornell have way too much time on their hands. Anyway, here's Drew:

I was thinking, and I was trying to tell Daena this this morning but itdidn't work so I thought I'd try you. So Gotham is bascially New YorkCity, right? And the Wayne Manor isn't exactly downtown, it's in thecountryside. So let's say it's in Scarsdale. Or further upstate.Basically, if most crime is happening downtown - or at least the crimethat Bruce is focusing on - he's got a hell of a commute. I'd say about an hour. Now, assuming that 1) he's got an underground tunnel from the Batcave to some isolated road nearby and 2) when people see the Batmobile coming they move out of the way as if it's an ambulance, he's still going to run into a lot of problems getting from this remote place to the site of crime and back. I mean, hospitals and police stations are located pretty close to the districts they serve, but Batman's got to navigate a lot of traffic.

This is not to mention that if there's congestion at the bridge or the tunnel he's got to wait in line: I mean, sure, he can run red lights maybe if the Penguin hasn't been posing as him to wreak havoc in town and the people still feel like he's not a menace, but there's no way around a traffic jam. Unless he goes up on the sidewalk, which I'm sure he does, but would he really drive that dangerously? I bet if he ran over someone it would really torture his already-tortured soul. But I'm sure it's a decision he's got to make: The Joker has planted a bomb which will kill thousands versus Little Billy's blocking his only routearound the traffic jam at 2nd and West Ave.

Sure, he's got the Batwing and the Bat Submarine and if it's Adam West-batman he's got the Batcopter and the Bat Car-b-gone spray and what not, but still he's got to decide to take those out with him when he goes - he can't be halfway down the turnpike and run into traffic and THEN think "Man, I shoulda taken the Batwing..." WHy doesn't he take the Batwing all the time? DOes it use up a lot of gas? I'll bet it does, and with today's oil prices he's trying to conserve just like the next guy.

That's what separates him from the PEnguin. THe PEnguin doesn't care. He'll drive the PEnguinmobile (is there such a thing? What does the PEnguin drive? Why do I continually make the same capitalization error with the PEnguin's name all the time?)regardless if it's at $3.50 a gallon. This is why SPiderman is really a more efficient superhero. He does all the work of Batman, but on a photographer's salary. Batman has to exploit the workers of Wayne Enterprises in order to afford all his toys. IN this way, he's very similar to the PEnguin - the ruthless capitalist. Really, then, the Bat-Saga is all about the violent clashes between two capitalists.

Spidey, now, he's really Red - you know why the costume is red, right? - he's swinging for the people. For the workers of America. Don't give me the crap about "SPidey's in the Marvel universe and Batman's in the DC universe and never the twain shall meet," because they're both New York superheroes and we all know that.

Does DC - the city, not the comic line-have its own superhero? Like some smaller version of Batman. Loris man? Flying squirrel man? Compliment man? Can you answer these questions?

It was a luscious meal, and you were a delicious date

I really wish I'd found this in time for Valentine's Day, but better late than never. If you need help writing a love letter to that special someone, here's a template that might help.

Aside from the ridiculousness of its prose -- "The wine you selected was perfect. Sipping it from the delicate glass enhanced the taste and it warmed my body as it filled up my insides." -- the fact this template even exists kind of boggles my mind. A template for a business correspondence, sure, or a resume cover letter. Sometimes people forget whether it's "Dear Sir," or "To whom it may concern:" And I, for one, can never remember which side of the page my address goes on. But if you're the sort of person who needs a template to write a love letter ... well, then I guess you're exactly the kind of person who might include this line in said letter: "It was a luscious meal, and you were a delicious date."

Olympic Fever

So, apparently it's Olympic Season. I admit I haven't really been paying attention, though I did see a little bit of the opening ceremonies while at a bar (either I'd had too many beers or there were people in skin-tight clown costumes rolling around on the ground). And last night I saw some Japanese dude get like eight hundred feet of air on the snowboard half-pipe, though the judges seemed nonplussed (it's worth watching snowboarding if only to hear the announcers rattle off the trick names, which were clearly coined by stoned 12-year-olds. Ah, Jim, it looks like a double fakey nosegrab super air, though he didn't quite stick the landing on that twirlyloop mac n' cheese dinner). Speaking of snowboarding, wasn't the whole point of the sport to be all noncomformist and free-form and exxxtreme? If you win a gold medal as a snowboarder, do you have to pretend to be unexcited about it? Maybe even throw it back at the judges and scream "I don't care about your stupid gold medal, man. I just want to rock!"

It seems like rough going so far for the Americans, though, like I said, I haven't seen too many of the actual events. Michelle Kwan is apparently a quitter, and one of our best lugers got tossed out for performance-enhancing drugs. Which begs the question: what drugs, exactly, make it easier to slide down an icy track on a suped-up sled? Maybe heroin use could slim a person down and result in less drag? It turns out, though, the luger was taking Propecia, which aside from being a hair-loss medication is also a "masking agent" for certain banned substances. Poor guy -- it's bad enough he's taking the bald cure, now he has to be publicly humiliated? Maybe they'll also announce that his blood was contaminated by several erectile dysfunction drugs just to ensure he never shows his face in public again.

Maybe it's just me, but didn't people used to actually get excited about the Olympics? Maybe it was the Cold War, which gave us an enemy worth rooting against -- all the Russians looked vaguely like Dolph Lundgren in Rocky IV, and of course they were all just as doped up and Evil. Who do we have to root against now? The French? Maybe if the Iraqis managed to field a kick-ass speed-skating team, people would watch.

Or maybe not. I just hope this doesn't mean The Office will be pre-empted.

Press Release of the Week: Valentine's Day, Part Deux

First of all, I'd like to mention, without comment, the tagline of today's Jerry Springer Show: "Hillbillies and Gay Men in Shorts."

Okay, now that we've gotten that out of the way, on with the press releases!

My guess is that all you loyal Barrelhouse readers have already cemented your Valentine's Day plans -- drawing, of course, on last week's hot tips -- but in case you're still wondering what to give that special someone in your life, here's a super-sexxxy suggestion from PNC Financial Services: a heart-to-heart talk about your finances!

"This Valentine's Day, the best gift couples can give each other might be a heart-to-heart talk about money and a three-year budget they both can agree on."

According to a PNC survey, when it comes to money, "Men are from Mars and women are from Venus."

Apparently Martians work long hours and try to save their money, whereas Venutians spend their days traipsing around town with the Martians' credit cards, buying ridiculous pointy-toed shoes and fur coats and purse-sized dogs as if dollar bills grow on goddamned trees, and then at night do you think they can maybe break themselves away from Desperate Housewives or The Bachelor: Paris to cook a fucking hot meal or maybe just rub the tired Martian's shoulders during commercial breaks? Is that really so much to ask?

Okay, sorry, I got a little carried away there. Let's just move on.

A dating site specifically for dog lovers doesn't seem like a terrible idea, but perhaps the fine folks at Leashes and Lovers might want to reconsider their name.

And while I guess it's fine to declare a National Impotence Day -- though I imagine that's pretty much the most depressing parade ever -- is it really necessary to make it February 14? That just seems cruel.

In the "questionable study results" category is this press release from Domino's, which claims that if you really want to know whether you're compatible with your mate, you should -- wait for it, wait for it -- order a Domino's pizza! According to Dr. Alan Hirsch, who can pretty much guarantee he'll never be taken seriously in his field ever again, "The Domino's Pizza 'Toppings Tell All' study found a connection exists between pizza topping preference and romantic attractions."

For instance: "If you prefer traditional single-meat toppings like pepperoni, your attraction is for a person who likes a pizza loaded with meat toppings, perhaps because you're attracted to their unbridled zeal and passion." Or perhaps you're just a weirdo who's turned on by the smell of cooked meat.

Finally, what to do after the thrill of Valentine's Day is gone? According to Budweiser: start dating.

"Ah, the holidays! They offer family, food and gifts galore -- potentially the kryptonite of new relationships. Is there a more loaded proposition than trying to buy the perfect gift for someone you hardly know, but definitely want to get to know better? Who in their right mind would start dating someone during this too-intense time period?"

Budweiser has thus declared Feb. 15 the "official start of Dating Season." To celebrate, they allowed the public to vote on the worst pickup lines of all time. Among the winners:

--If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?
--Is that a mirror in your pocket, 'cause I can see myself in your pants!
--Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again!
--You must be tired because you've been running through my mind all night!

Really, Budweiser? Is that the best you can do? I've heard worse lines than that tossed around before sundown at The Starboard in Dewey Beach. How about some of these fan favorites?

--What's your favorite dirty talk?
--How'd you like 30 seconds of pleasure followed by a lifetime of regret?
--I'm not sure exactly how it's pronounced, but I believe it's menage.
--It only burns when I pee.

Guys, try any of those winners on your next outing and see results fast! And ladies, you've been warned. Stay in your apartments or houses, Dating Season has officially begun.

A Public Service Announcement

I got this email just a few moments ago from Entertainment Weekly; it seems like something that might be of interest to certain people in the Barrelhouse universe (Steve K., I'm looking especially in your direction).

"VH1 and Entertainment Weekly are scouring the country to find 16 three-person teams who think they've got what it takes to compete in the most intense pop culture trivia tournament to date, The World Series of Pop Culture.

"The tournament, which will be taped to air on VH1 in late summer 2006, will happen over the weekend of April 28th through the 30th in New York City.

"Whether teams consist of friends who gather to watch "Lost" every Wednesday, co-workers who spend lunch hours discussing their favorite films, or siblings who grew up addicted to sitcoms, the three members must have extensive knowledge of the films, TV shows, music, and pop culture happenings of the '70s, '80s, and '90s through today.

"Do you think you and your cohorts have the pop culture smarts to beat out the competition? Then come meet us in person and prove it!

"Casting Calls followed by Regional Qualifying Games will be held by appointment only in the following cities on the following dates:

• Los Angeles: March 4-5
• Chicago: March 11-12
• Dallas: March 18-19
• Atlanta: March 25-26
• New York: April 1-2

"Go to EW.com (under "SPECIAL COVERAGE") or VH1.com (under "SHOWS" and then "CASTING CALLS") to apply!

"Contestants must be U.S. Residents and at least 18 years of age at the time of the audition. Go to EW.com or VH1.com for further eligibility requirements."

The Year That Tooth Whitening Broke

Some days McSweeneys is especially funny. Like yesterday. Here's a sample of Dan Kennedy's "1997: The Year That Tooth Whitening Broke."

Well, we were told a million times that if you want to be a thriving practice, you had to focus on standard procedures ... play the game: crowns, fillings, molar preps and buildups, refer out a lot for your root canals and appendectomies and build alliances with other offices that way. Oh, and of course we were told for years that you couldn't be big with a male receptionist. I meet dentists now that are like, "Yeah, we wanna get a male receptionist and go for the big time." And I'm like, "Oh, my God, it's come full circle."

Check it out.

Press Release of the Week: Tainted Love

Well, boys and girls, Valentine’s Day is nearly upon us, and if you’re anything like me, you find yourself conflicted. On the one hand, Valentine’s Day is a commercial holiday invented by a bunch of corporate fat cats to force hard-working Americans to spend money on flowers, cards, jewelry and chocolates. And yet, on the other hand, I bet you sure would like to see your significant other naked again sometime during the Bush administration!

Luckily, there are lots of people volunteering their help this year. For the menfolk, Detroit clothier Mark England DeMonde has created “A Guy’s Guide to Successful Shopping,” which allows the clueless male to answer a series of question about his special ladyfriend and come up with the perfect present.

"We are not talking about questions like size or favorite color," DeMonde says. "Although of course that is important information." No, the questions here are about “personality” and “lifestyle.” So if, for example, your woman likes death metal, chains, and searing hot wax, you might buy her a leather jacket or a pair of combat boots. If, on the other hand, your girlfriend likes teddy bears, Precious Moments figurines and the music of Michael Buble, you might consider just breaking up with her.

Or maybe you want a little more – uh, intimate – gift this year. Maybe you’ve put on a few pounds or your psoriasis is acting up again and your wife and/or girlfriend no longer finds you attractive. But hey, you’re a man, and you have needs! Get the little woman good and revved up with Scentuelle, “a blend of scent molecules which mimic the size, shape, and electrical charge of dopamine, the molecule that causes the brain to release the hormones that make us feel aroused.”

Apparently Scentuelle comes in the form of a patch that women wear on their wrists and then smell periodically throughout the day. Hottt!

And here’s another suggestion, guys. I’m no Don Juan, but I’m pretty sure this would be a terrible gift idea: “This Valentine's Day, show your significant other how much you really care by giving the gifts that really count: A healthy heart and a longer life. Joey Dweck, the founder of weightlossbuddy.com, the free site that gets you to buddy-up to lose weight and change to a healthier lifestyle by offering support 24/7, says that the most romantic gifts are the ones that have the biggest heartstrings.”

Nothing says “I love you” like “Time to drop a few, porky!”

And what about the sad, sad, lonely singles out there? Valentine’s Day is tough for them, too. Luckily, “singles humor columnist” Angela Manfredi feels your pain. And she’s got some really great suggestionsfor single women that are totally not depressing at all:

--“Dining alone is a real confidence builder. And, you can order as much dessert as you want without feeling self-conscious or worrying about the chocolate sauce that dripped on your blouse."

-- “Don't wait by the door for the elusive singing telegram or Candy-gram. Instead, make (and keep) an appointment for a Mammogram. Your compressed breasts will thank you.”

--“Treat yourself to sexy new underwear and pretty push-up bras. Say buh-bye to the granny panties and splurge on sassy skivvies."

Single guys – don’t think Manfredi’s forgot about you. “For the single guys who actually know that something called 'Valentine's Day' exists and don't want to spend it alone, install something such as sink or a car stereo.”

Ah, gender stereotypes! Where would middling comedians be without them?

Finally, what would a national holiday be without some words of wisdom from Barrelhouse’s favorite D.C.-based crazy person, Matthew Lesko.

“Yes, that's him ... Uncle Sam! Only dressed up in a phat Cupid outfit for Valentine's Day! In fact, there's so much help all year round that can improve the lives of lovers, he's just got to ‘hook you up’! So, this is a great month to celebrate YOU! 'Get Some Lovin'! Government grant guy, Matthew Lesko, at www.lesko.com wants taxpayers to know that your government not only helps your financial life, but also YOUR LOVE LIFE!

Apparently, using freely available government services like Social Security records, Justice Department databases and U.S. Military locator services, you can answer these important Valentine’s Day-related questions:

--Did Your Lover Wind Up In Jail?

--Did His Divorce Really Go Through?

--Is He Really a Lawyer or a Professional Wrestler?

--Is She Just a Gold Digger?

--What Happened to that Cute Sailor?

God, if I had a nickel for every time I'd asked that last question, I'd ... well, I'd have a lot of nickels. And someone to go halfsies on the penicillin.

This Song is About Alcohol...

Okay, so since we've talked about concerts, corporate paranoia, and the death of the live album, I couldn't help but tell you about all the best moments from Kiss Alive II, III and well, every comeback tour.

As the legend himself might say, this is "all filler, no killer." And brilliant.

Then there are the strange, I saw Paul Stanley stories that keep popping up. I saw him years ago in Bergdorf Goodman, buying a $4,000 suit and a couple of $350 Ike Behar shirts, all while wearing cuffed boots, the tightest acid-washed jeans I've ever seen, a wife-beater tee-shirt, and a camel hair overcoat that would have made John Gotti blush.