In this video, a very gassy, NEEDY Jewish mom can’t wait for her own daughter to call her on Mother’s Day, so she decides to call her daughter herself, instead. Flatulence ensues, and Mom’s take on how to send money via the internet to her psychologically damaged daughter is pretty unique and, dare I say, visionary.

The cast, director & exec producer/writer of NBC’s tv pilot DOWNWARDLY MOBILE- looks like the 99% just became 99.5%.

UP-FRONT UPDATE:

Sadly, NBC has decided to NOT pick up the DOWNWARDLY MOBILE pilot. People will feel shocked (as I was when I got the news), but in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. This pilot was poised to bring a true representation of the 99% to TV again, at a time when the 99%-ers could really USE a good laugh about the 1%-ers. But guess who is part of that 1%? Yup- NBC, ABC, CBS, FOX. This pilot needs a 1% network that has 100% balls. The upside?  Now that I will no longer be considered an NBC “employee”, I can’t be disqualified if I audition for THE VOICE!  (What…. you don’t think I WILL??? Oh, I WILL.  You KNOW I will.  Team Christina! Whoot! Whoot!)

This cast was plucked from casting couches (and don’t forget casting bean bag chairs) in trailer parks all across this great nation of ours.   Word is that casting directors combed through unemployment lines and the DMV to find that perfect combination for the show that America needs.  The director (Gail “Mullets” Mancuso) is a seasoned vet who knows how to bring the funny, and exec producer/writer (Eric “Not Bob Denver” Gilliland)?  He was exec producer/writer on a little show called…. you guessed it: ROSEANNE.

We’re so sexy.  And funny.  We’re… FEXY.

And we all have crushes on the 99%.

from left to right (top row) Gail Mancuso (dir.), Sir John Goodman, Dame Roseanne Barr, Eric Gilliand (Producer & Writer) Jason Antoon, Romy Rosemont, Tricia O’Kelly, (bottom row) Mary Birdsong, Hector Duran, Kendra Jain.

big mama’s honeymoon underpants.

And it was on that day… that very special, cake-changing day in Pastry Case Land, that the Sprinkle Sisters- Angel & Marzi- were sitting around in their cozy studio loft gossiping.  They lived on the middle rack of 2369 PoppySeed Lane’s oven- it was electric!  An oven of the future!  And they were proud of that.  As they exchanged gossip in the comfortable 375 degree heat, they grew anxious about their latest romantic escapades— stories of woe, in which they justified the abhorrent behavior of “bad boy” banana bread, and shrugged off the awful apathy of apple-sauce muffins.  They picked apart the male species of baked goods for so long that they worried they might actually get burnt on their bottoms.

So to lighten the mood, they decided to watch a little tv.  They’d finally gone out & purchased a HUGE, fancy new flatscreen tv like the other gals in their 9 X 12 stainless steel baking pan had done months ago.  It was nearly 3 inches across, and 2 inches high!  And what luck, they thought, when the very first tv show they happened upon was… Oprah.  Ahhhhh, Oprah.  Oprah was their favorite.  Oprah was the perfect program to christen their new tv.  They were giddy with delight.

But 10 minutes into the show, they realized they weren’t emotionally prepared for this particular episode. Not at all.  It was a double episode on—

UNDERBAKED CUPCAKES.

Underbaked.  Beaten and battered.  They related on such a deep level, and realized that Cupcake Oprah had hit upon a term that, for the first time ever, put words to how they’d felt for so long:

UNDER-BAKED.

Both single, both over 40 calories, and still baking, Angel & Marzi looked at each other and wept vanilla frosting tears.  And at the end of the show, they held sprinkles & drew up a contract in which they vowed to each other:

THE CUPCAKE’S BILL OF BAKING RIGHTS!

1) Never again shall we let our cakey insides be thought of as little more than half-baked, goopy batter.

2) Never again shall we chase unavailable crullers or mean-spirited muffins,

3) Never again shall we strive to gain the approval of disdainful, domineering donuts by heaping more & more multi-colored sprinkles on our cupcake tops.

4) Never again shall we shed our little paper soufflé-cup dresses to bear our fluffy bodies at the slightest cupcake-come-hither glance from a cocky slice of key lime pie.

5) Never again shall we support some Cinnabon a-hole hanging out at the mall, still living with his ex-wife “until he’s finished writing his screenplay.”

Thank you, Cupcake Oprah! For giving us our dignity back, and topping it with delicious, self-respecting, cream-cheese frosting.  And from that day forward in Pastry Case Land , there was no more baking at 375 degrees for the Sprinkle Sisters.  No more sitting on that hot, un-greased, stainless steel baking sheet in their little metal jacuzzis, waiting for an oven mitt to come rescue them, deus ex machina style!

“We’re done baking,” they cried.  ”We’re cooked!  Do you HEAR that, you controlling old kitchen timer?  We’re done inside, you tick-tocking old schoolmarm!  We’re really done! So go on— Put a toothpick in us & pull it out! We dare you!  We don’t care WHO pokes us! Our cakey centers won’t get stuck to those toothpicks when they come out.  No matter how many times that oven mitt from hell stabs us with tiny wooden daggers, we will be delicious!

And they really were.  They were done.  Inside and out.   And they were ready for life to eat them all up- crumbs and all.

Thanks be to Cupcake Oprah.

*Cupcakes pictured above, courtesy the 17th Street Café pastry case, Santa Monica, CA.

Get your feet off my mid-century mahogany coffee table.... PUNK.

So Clint is suing this furniture company for blatantly using his name and persona to try to sell stuff without compensating him.  That’s bad-ass and great.  I so want to see this confrontation scene where he drops in on his local EvoFurniture showroom for a surprise visit with the staff.   He walks in slowly and says, all squinty-eyed and real quiet-like…

Clint:  Afternoon.

Showroom Clerk:  Can I help you, sir?

Clint: (LONG PAUSE) Hope so.  I hear your makin’ those fancy footstools… whatta ya call ‘em?  Ottomans? Yeah… ottomans.  I hear you’re makin’ ottomans with my face on ‘em, is that right, punk?

Showroom Clerk: Uh,  I…

Clint: (pulling out his rifle) I SAID, “Is that right… PUNK?”

Showroom Clerk: Yes sir.  Yes sir, Mr. Eastwood, sir.  But, please, sir, be reasonable…

Clint: I tried being reasonable.  I didn’t like it.   Let me… speak to your supervisor.

(Then he shoots a huge hole straight through their “Clint 47″ Entertainment Center.)

I don't know. Do you think Sandra took that personally? Or maybe...

That’s sort of how I imagine that sh** would go down.  And I envy his self-esteem.

But wouldn’t it be awesome if it was all an act?  If Clint was actually REALLY neurotic?  Over-analyzing every move?  Every decision?  Asking himself in the mirror if his jeans make his butt look fat?  Practicing line readings over and over again with his dog?  Making unnecessary phone calls to friends– apologizing for that comment he made last week JUST IN CASE they misinterpreted it?

Oh, Clint… I DO think it’s bad-ass for you to sue this furniture store, but maybe it points to some deep-seeded insecurity, or some paranoid belief that people are always trying to take advantage of you.  Or…

Nah.  You’re probably just pissed that some asshole’s puttin’ his feet up on that “Clint” coffee table he just bought, and he didn’t have the decency to take his boots off first. And I don’t blame you one bit.

Pesoch?  Yup… there’s an app for that…

Big Mama’s Honeymoon Underpants: Why Is This iPad Different From All Other iPads?.

Big Mama’s Honeymoon Underpants: Build A Little BirdHouse In My Ego.

Big Mama’s Honeymoon Underpants: Build A Little BirdHouse In My Ego.

Missi Pyle, Yvette Nicole Brown, and Mary Birdsong Join PERCY JACKSON & THE OLYMPIANS: THE SEA OF MONSTERS.

I’m going to do something I never do. I’m going to reach out to the fundamentalist Christian community right now. I’m a liberal. And most liberals think you all are a joke. So I’m asking you to prove them wrong. FUNDAMENTLIST CHRISTIANS? ARE YOU LISTENING? If ever there was a chance for you to stop the senseless killing of innocent children– this is it. Put down your placards and homemade protest signs meant to strike the fear of G-d into anyone daring to offer birth control, gather your good Christian soldiers and go over to the Muslim world to make a living amends to your Muslim brothers and sisters for all the bloodshed the Christians caused them during the Crusades. Do something that is actually CHRIST-like. If the politicians won’t do something, WHY NOT YOU???