Archive for the 'God Biz' Category

In Case You Were Wondering, Pat Robertson Is Still Batshit Insane


sandbags are no fun.

tornadoes are messy.

babies are a handful.

hand grenades are dangerous.

a set of golf clubs could lead to philandering.

coal is dirty.

cocaine smells funny.

booze is great if you like bananas, shaving cream and cigarettes.

money is expensive.

fruit cakes chip teeth.

depending on where they are placed, bear traps can trap gnomes as easily as they can bears.

light dies.

time flies.

and the universe(s) is(are) too big to wrap.

but a good Pope tackle is a gift that anyone can appreciate.

Models for Christ

Heard the name mentioned on some scary weird Christian radio broadcast when I was driving the other day and had a hard time believing it actually existed, but lo and behold here it is:

What they claim to be: “We are a global community of professionals who are seeking to honor God as we navigate the unique opportunities and challenges within the fashion industry.”

Honor God? Please! By doing what? Selling sex and clothes and cars and booze and pouting and smiling and drinking for free, dancing all night, not eating carbs and being taller and more attractive than most people?

It’s been a while since I brushed up on my Biblespeak, but I swear the New Testament said something about God making us in his image. Or maybe he just made them in his image.

Is God totally fucking hot? Is he strictly editorial or does he do runway too? What about Fashion Week? Is he available and where can I get a copy of his comp card?

Maybe Jesus doesn’t love you unless you’re a 6’2” half Russian/half Senegalese hard body with a penchant for blow and Prada pumps.

Just putting this out there, but with regards to the seven deadly sins, I think Models for Christ, unless they encourage models to ugly themselves up and work for free, probably have the following sins covered.

LUST: As in fucking other models or celebrities or portraying an image that would make people want to fuck you.

GLUTTONY: As in downing too much Pinkberry on a date with a hedge fund douchebag (whether or not you throw it up later), doing too much bad coke in a meat-packing district nightclub bathroom stall, buying or having somebody else buy you more pairs of shoes than you can wear in a lifetime, taking too much Rip Fuel, or letting too many agents or photographers fuck you when you’re high on E.

GREED: If Starbucks paid more, you’d be working there, let’s face it.

SLOTH: Unless Models for Christ are the most socially responsible and proactive posse of models on the planet and spend the 29 days a month they’re not shooting out of bed, not getting high, not staring at themselves in the mirror, not dicking around on Facebook, not trying to break into acting, not fucking rich guys or sitting on their couches watching “Bromance,” and are either at school, studying, working some regular, everyday non-beautiful person job, or down at the local soup kitchen dodging Staph infections, I think it’s pretty safe to say that in the life of any successful model, there’s going to be a decent amount of sloth involved.

WRATH: It’s well documented that cat fights break out at castings, fittings, backstage at shows, whatever. That’s what happens when everybody you know has slept with everybody else you know and you’re all fighting tooth and nail to get hired so you don’t have to “host” at Nobu anymore.

ENVY: As in “oh my God, your tits are perfect!” Or “dude, Hunter’s abs are so ripped.” We move on.

PRIDE: This one I’m not going to lay on Models for Christ alone. How fucked up is it that we still place such a high value on how a person looks? Totally fucked up. You’re to blame. I’m to blame. We’re all to blame.

I know “ugly” people sure. Hang out with some. I’m sure some people find me repulsive. But if you think I’m the guy you should set up with your “nice” friend, you’re barking up the wrong tree.

Call me crazy but I actually have to be attracted to somebody to date them or do them. And unfortunately I, like you, have been programmed by modern media and advertising to find certain physical traits attractive on people and others repulsive. If this was the 16th century, sure I’d be lovin’ up some plus-size honey because plus-size meant well-fed and well-fed meant rich and big ladies were hot back then.

But times have changed. It’s Cameron Diaz not Camryn Manheim and, though I’m not really into either, if I was forced to choose, you best believe I’d be locked up in the Chateau Marmont for a night with that latter. Though if I had to instead spend that same night on a set directing one in a role it would most definitely be the other way around (see “Happiness”). So there! I said it. I’m just a shallow, superficial, sex with “attractive” girls only-wanting/having motherfucker, but I’m also not the one claiming to be “for Christ” either.

I’m feeling inspired today though. Ready to confront the past, to strike out and make steps towards a better future for us all. Maybe it’s the lingering Obamamania, but I guess it’s never too late to start anew. So if you are an unattractive, overweight, hairy, limbless, acne-ridden, acne-scarred, or hair-lipped lady hit me up and let’s make out.

Atheists Roll. No God on Board.

First We Take London

One of the Craziest Things I’ve Seen All Year

Monk Fight

Armenian vs. Greek Orthodox. Looks like the pit at a Minor Threat show circa 1982. Not sure who came out the victor in this battle. Pretty sure they’ll never be a winner of the war, but the bout went down at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem last Sunday.

Serafim, a Greek Orthodox Monk, calls bullshit on the Armenian team at the end of the video, says it started with a sucker punch. And who hits a man wearing glasses? Shit’s weak.

Last time the monks exchanged fisticuffs was on Palm Sunday. So considering that fact that it’s already on the regular, I say we do this right, in Vegas at the MGM. Somebody call Don King.

God is love.

Rejected by Messenger’s of God in Towson, MD, Sleep Never Offers Suggestion for Reading

Jehovah’s Witnesses Spread Word. Tolerance Not Included.

So I’m sitting on a bench on a cliff overlooking Santa Monica Pier yesterday, totally engrossed in the 1st hundred pages of the book I’m working on, and from behind me I hear a gentle older man voice say: ‘Excuse me there, young man.’

So I turn to find a fiftysomething beachcomber/science teacher looking guy: earth tone shorts, t-shirt, spectacles, beach hat and fanny pack, holding up his brown beach cruiser with one hand and offering a pamphlet to me with the other.

The rest of the brief conversation went something like this:

Beachcomber: I wanted to know if you’d be interested in reading some literature discussing the debate over creationism vs. evolution.

ME: And why are you asking me to read it? (I say this politely even though he’s interrupting me).

Beachcomber: What?

ME: What group do you represent that’s interested in having me read this?

Beachcomber: I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.

ME (very matter of fact): I’m against organized religion and I don’t believe in God.

Beachcomber (in a sweet yet condescending tone as if I’m kidding or not certain): You believe in God.

ME (plainly): No, I don’t. In fact (showing him the pile of pages before me) the entire concept of the book I’m writing is based on the failure of all organized religion throughout the ages.

And this is when his face twists, into something from a late night black and white B Horror flick as he searches for just the right words, then howls (totally oblivious to anyone else in the park who’s trying to enjoy their Sunday afternoon), ‘you know what else is a failure! I tell you about one movement that’s failed! Secular humanism! That’s a failure!’

And with that he rips the pamphlet back from my reach, throws it with the rest in his bike basket and makes a move to leave, then turns, eyes of vengeance upon me, and between big breaths screams ‘Communism and Socialism, those are two other failures!’

‘Whatever, Dude. Enjoy your hypocrisy,’ I say casually and wave goodbye and this only pisses him off more. He just stops and turns and glares at me, praying for the skies to open up, for his God to send a sunny day lightening bolt to smite me and I return to my book, to continue the good work, before he continues on to save another filthy soul.

Dear Religion Peddlers,

If you want to talk, let’s talk. I’m always down for a good debate. And if you’re going to interupt me to sell me an afterlife, at least let me peruse it first. Not even the most shady or least savvy of used car dealers will refuse to let you take a test drive, then berate you for not buying.

So until we meet again…

All about now,
Chris K.

Please Take This Moment To Get Over Yourself

Whether you’re a pouty face club kid or a vascular surgeon with a God complex, and even if it’s only for practical, pride-saving purposes on down the road.

You can take your life and your work seriously, that should be encouraged. But when you strut the earth, nose up, conveniently forgetting that you?re a mere mortal, there?s nowhere to go but down.

And you will go down.

I begin this Nyquil-fueled rant by introducing you to some people who took themselves too seriously and eventually wiped out, or got tackled and beat down on, the icy sidewalk of life:

Julius Ceasar: From hooking up with hottie Cleopatra and being declared ‘Dictator for life’ of the Roman Republic to getting stabbed, tunic down, 23 times, on the senate floor by his homies, it?s obvious a couple of thousand years later that Mr. Big Stuff should’ve taken a step back and asked ‘E Tu Brute?’ a little sooner.

Jesus Christ: Being crucified in front of your fans is extremely embarrassing I’m sure, especially when you claim to be the ‘Son of God.’ Dying for our sins? Please, dude. Great spin by the Apostles though. Rolling back the stone three days later would have been a great way to redeem himself, but it never happened so whenever I think of Jesus, I just think ’sad.’

Hitler: Dude went from being named Time Magazine’s ‘Man of the Year’ in 1938 and taking over mot of Europe, to washing down cyanide with a bullet in the rubble-covered Reich Chancellory in Berlin. (This could also fall under another category of ‘how dangerous taking other people can be.’)

Charles Manson: When Manson first went to prison, the press portrayed him exactly the way he wanted to be portrayed, enigmatic and pretty fucking scary. Now he’s just a bat shit crazy old coot in a cage with a really bad tattoo. Nobody’s scared and nobody cares, except for MSNBC, and me sometimes when I can’t sleep and there’s nothing else on TV but 3 a.m. screening of ‘Helter Skelter.’

George Bush: Still wearing that stupid, shit-eating, permi-grin, douchebag of the century is now, in a vain attempt to keep Wikipedia from editing down his entry to simply acknowledge him as ‘the worst president in the history of the United States,’ having to back peddle and acknowledge the fact (however disingenuously) that the rest of the planet wasn’t super down with that his balls out Wild West calls for invasion and war, his blatant disregard for federal and international law, his rejection of the scientific communities statistical data on global warming, and all the other bad decisions he made and waved like a flag in the faces of those who justly opposed him.

Sean Penn: Ever see ?I am Sam??

Actually, he was awesome in that sappy shit too, and as annoying as he is at least he’s a ‘doer’ so scratch him off until the next time he heads to the Castro Brother’s for dinner.

The carrot top dude from CSI Miami: Never watched the show, but a regular ‘guest star’ told me how Mr. Guy many times requires 30+ takes to remove his sunglasses and squint just the right way, all the while making the rest of the cast and crew stand around on set and wait. Lame.

For Axl Rose, I reference the hair extensions, circa ‘89 Staten Island OG attire and off-key vocals that visually and sonically smothered what was the most eagerly awaited live performance by any rock n’ roll band in the last two decades.

Kobe Bryant (aka ‘The Next Michael Jordan’): Sure we all remember this smug shitbag’s sexual assault incident’ involving that 19 year old girl in an Eagle Colorado hotel back in 2003, but that was nothing compared to the beating he took in the final game of the Lakers/Celtics series.

Prince: Yes, even Prince needs to get over himself. Did you see the lame set he did with his cover band at Coachella? Already a tiny man, by the time he finished his Vegas revue I was hoping Cris Angel would come out and make him disappear completely, forever.

He’s already donning a jumpsuit and has apparently forgotten the lyrics to his own songs. Now all he needs is a platter of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches added to his tour rider and his own neon billboard hanging outside Caesar’s.

Now I’ll give you first name that comes to mind and a great example of somebody whose never taken himself too seriously and will inevitably end up more content than those who do:

Sean William Scott (aka Stiffler): I’ve hung out with the guy. He’s hilarious. And let me tell you, the producers of ‘American Pie’ didn’t hire him to play Stiffler. He IS Stiffler.

He’s perfectly aware of the fact that nobody takes him seriously and he doesn?t complain about it. And why would he? He’s living his dream.

He’s got perfect 10’s lined up to sleep with him every time he goes out, and they’ve got to get back to his multi-million dollar bachelor pad somehow. So he takes the parts he needs to fill the tank on that crazy dumb yellow Hummer he drives. No complaints.

Kudos to you, Stiffler!

And then there’s the idea of knowingly engaging in activities that run the risk of making you looking uncool, only to end up making you look cooler in the end.

Anthony Bourdain, other than being awesome for a wide array of other reasons, is also awesome because he’s aware of how uncool he can look and isn’t afraid to test the waters.

I?m no stranger to miscalculating my gravitational pull on occasion. In fact, I am a total cock sometimes. And to punish myself I offer you a few examples, off the top of my head, of how totally lame I am or have been in the past:

1. I had a massive crush on this girl once in film school. She was down and I was stoked until I got stoned on our first date, burnt my eyebrow off trying to light a joint on the stove burner and then tried to play it off like everything was cool, even though my eyebrow was gone and the girl kept asking me if I smelled something burning.

2. Because of the vibration, I get boners on planes. (Maybe this should go on the ‘cool’ list).

3. Years ago, riding a cheap high and feeling particularly bulletproof, after chatting up, and making out with, a some model girl at a party at some mansion in the hills, I got caught by that model girl mid-wipe in the midst of a ‘Trainspotting’ special.

It was an emergency. I found an ‘out of the way’ downstairs bathroom that had no door or lights (that I could find). There was nowhere else to go so I risked it. Then, out of nowhere, party girl appeared, reached in, flipped on the light, saw me, paper in hand, screamed ‘Oh my God!’ and I screamed ‘I’m just peeing!’ She left the party before I had time to flush and I never saw her again.

4. When I was in grade school I performed ‘Thriller’ at a talent show. I played Michael. Michelle Caruthers (having the closest thing to a natural afro) played the girl. I trained a troop of 20 or so completely uncoordinated kids to play backup monster dancers and made gravestones with my mom out of cardboard.

I wore the jacket. I wore the glove. I wore sequined socks. The whole thing still haunts me. So any time I’m feeling invincible all I have to do is think back to this moment and my feet are again planted firmly on the ground.

5. When I was 12 I went camping with my family in western Illinois. Some townies took me down by the Illinois River. We climbed out on a limb hanging 10 feet over raging currents. They pulled out a joint and offered me some. Playing the cool city kid card I played it off like I’d smoked a million times before. So we smoked and I got so fucking high, somehow, that first time, that I couldn’t climb back down the limb to shore. And those townie, hillbilly fuckers just laughed and laughed at my ass from the bank as I sat their paralyzed, terrified, waiting for the shitty ass Midwestern ditch weed to wear off.

And I still can’t hold my pot.

6. I went swimming tripping in a cold pool once and a super famous fashion icon then decided she’d like to see me in one of her crazy spandex neon uni-tard get ups. She walked in on me in the bathroom while, 9 dimensions away, I was re-learning how to dress myself and my penis was the smallest I’ve ever seen it, like Antarctic skinny dip, dry-humping-the-snow, small.

I?m a grower not a shower. Regardless: cold pool disappearing drug penis + pretty girl = not cool.

Anyway, there are so many… My heads a Theraflu-fueled particle accelerator right now. So as a temporary replacement, I offer you a final embarrassing moment had by my friend Julia.

Thanks Julia.

Julia (a brilliant, sophisticated lady and an awesome chef), Tommie Sunshine and I went to Lotus (hell) in NYC with an actor friend of mine a few years back. My friend was with Paris Hilton and Co. and we hopped up in her booth.

I was sandwiched between Paris and Julia. Everybody was dancing and downing some Euro-trash French dude’s magnum of top shelf vodka, then, out of the corner of my eye, I notice Julia, to my left, falling backward gradually, in a kind of slow motion, into the booth behind her.

Gallons of free vodka slowing my reaction time I reached for her but missed and she landed in the booth next to ours with her back on the seat bottom, her head against the table, legs over the back of our booth, victimized by simple physics, unable to get back up, looking up at Paris (and her naked vagina), Paris looking back at her and me doubled over in laughter and unable to catch my breath.

Julia is super cool and the entire incident would have been so fucking hilariously uncool if she didn’t own it. She laughed her ass off and later told anybody who’d listen about it, turning coal to diamond and somehow making herself appear even cooler than she was before she totally wiped out hard, wasted in a posh (cheeseball) NYC nightclub in front of one of the most recognizable (annoying) faces on the planet, cool enough that I’m writing about it years later.

BOTTOM LINE: There is always somebody smarter, stronger, faster, more talented, sweeter, funnier, better looking, more charming, with better taste, a better record collection, a bigger dick and nicer tits than you have. So embrace what you’ve been given.

Everything you do has been done before and probably done better, and if you have somehow convinced yourself that you’re work, if not involving some scientific, sociological or political process, will have a long lasting effect on any large scale on this planet, you are completely insane.

The fucking pyramids are crumbling.

But you’ve still got friends.

And your friends, no matter how nice you are or they are, will inevitably talk behind your back and reality is, your girlfriend or boyfriend at any given moment is thinking about fucking somebody else.

You eat and shit and piss like everybody else and one day you will die.

I don’t care where you work, what show you’re on, whose list you’re on, what Ivy League school you went to, what record label you own, who your agent or your daddy is, how high your MCAT score was, or if that?s a diplomat license plate on the tacky ass yellow Maybach.

Stop talking loudly on your new I-phone at Starbucks about the deals your doing and how hot the girl is that you ‘banged’ last night.

Stop bragging.

Stop gloating.

Always remember, a nod is not a greeting.

Make eye contact.

Don’t cut in line regardless of you know.

Don’t block somebody?s driveway because you’ll ‘only be five minutes.’

Don’t pull out into traffic and wait for everybody else to stop so you can cross the street.

Stop yelling at the taxi driver, the door guy, the valet and the waitress at the restaurant. (It’s not their fault and if you don’t like sesame seeds you shouldn?t have ordered the toasted tofu and sesame seed salad.)

Try laughing honestly instead of chuckling snidely.

And I know I sound a little crazy.

Because I am crazy. Crazy sick. And when I?m sick I get angry because I can’t think straight.

So in order to put some ‘positive energy’ back into the universe, I’d like to conclude by issuing forth a challenge to you, the reader, to be honest with yourselves, to embrace your fragile humanity and allow the rest of us to embrace it too.

Send me a dorked out picture, video or a true story telling me how not cool you are and I’ll post it.

Tomorrow starts with you, kid.


The new deadly sins include:

Environmental pollution
Genetic manipulation
Accumulating excessive wealth
Inflicting poverty
Drug trafficking and consumption
Morally debatable experiments
Violation of fundamental rights of human nature

Accumulating excessive wealth?! Have you ever been to the fucking Vatican, the wealthiest little country on earth? They own Nero’s fucking tub for Christ sakes!!! They could sell that shit alone and have enough money to fee a 3rd world country for a year. A yard sale could cure world hunger FOREVER. The fact that they don?t is a goddamn sin, but then again so is having sex with children.