If I were king (not queen, not prince, not duke)
I’m the first to admit that I’m easily irritated. At least once a day (though I’ll admit that number can go as high as 40 or 50 times a day), I’ll complain to Joanna about something that really “irritates the shit out of me” (an expression which is pretty foul if you take a moment to visualize it, so a big, spastic, double thumbs up to Joanna for staying married to me). But I grew up in New York, and I can be pretty snotty, so that’s pretty much to be expected.
The irritation I can handle – to an extent. What needs to stop, though, are those things that go beyond irritation, pushing me to a bad, bad place filled with evil, and darkness, and with Billy Ray Cyrus music on an endless loop in the background. So, if elected king, aside from providing free barbecue to all my minions, I would outlaw:
The Following Expressions:
- Throwing anything under the bus, as in: “You dick. A few more Bud Lights and I could have banged that bitch if you hadn’t thrown me under the bus and told her I wasn’t a member of a NASCAR pit crew.”
- Stepping up to anything, as in: “If you don’t step up, you aren’t going to sell your quota of extended warranties this month, Roderick.” Or “I really have to step up my game if I want to make the badminton finals.”
- Anything from hell, as in: “Man, that was the prostate exam from hell.”
The Following Entertainment:
- Any song sung by Lady Gaga or that talentless skank from the horrible Black Eyed Peas.
- Paula Abdul on any television show, unless she gets back on heavy narcotics so instead of being just stupid, she’s stupid and hilarious.
- Anything with Criss Angel, anywhere, any medium, any time. Unless it’s a death match with David Blaine.
- Pseudo-punk rock versions of Christmas carols. In fact, any modern cover of a Christmas carol. In fact, Christmas carols in general, what with the herald angels, and decking the halls, and the three kings, and the golden rings and shit.
The Following Miscellaneous Irritating Crap:
- The compounding of words to make new, stupider, words, or the complete invention of said stupid words based on an existing word. This includes:
Note: Compound names like Bennifer and Brangelina are also banned, with no exceptions,ever.
- The use of “man” or “bro” as a prefix. This includes, but is not limited to:
- Manswers (I’m talking to you, Spike TV)
The only exception to this rule is my own expression (because it’s mine, and it’s not technically using “man”) “mammal toe” to indicate too-tight pants on a man that causes his bulging, seam-split ball sack to be clearly visible. Because you really need a name for that shit.
I’d also propose a constitutional amendment (though being king, I’d probably just chuck the Constitution to allow for more freedom in my kingly shenanigans) banning the following people from ever saying anything loud enough for anyone else to hear, in any place, at any time:
- Andy Rooney
- Glenn Beck
- Ariana Huffington
- Any Backstreet Boy
- Gloria Allred
- That chick from “The Nanny”
- The Pope
Anyone that knows me knows that this barely scratches the surface of what pisses me off, but I just needed to get that shit off my chest. Because no one likes shit on their chest. I mean, other than Germans.