Wednesday, April 22, 2009

I'm Not Always Nice, But Am I Going to Hell?


So yesterday on my Facebook page, I posted something you might call "mean." Okay it wasn't nice, but I was joking.

It said something to the effect of: "I think Susan Boyle is just Taylor Hicks in drag.....I'm sorry, but she's just too ugly to look at."

Okay, definitely not kind, but come on....She's only famous BECAUSE she is ugly. And she's only famous because she's ugly because we, as a society, have made attractiveness as important as talent in determining celebrity.

So, in my opinion, this "uplifting" and "touching" story is a non-story. It's our own fault it's a story.

And, by the way, if you put Taylor Hicks in a dress.....that's what he would look like. I'm sorry, I'm not wrong about this.

So, seconds after I post it, I was the object of a online firestorm. People, and by people I mean women, were shocked and appalled. They called me mean and said everyone's been called ugly or fat in their lives and this was such a good story blah blah blah.

The underlying message? "You're the devil."

So then I thought "wait a minute, AM I going to hell? ME????"

Personally I don't believe there is a heaven or a hell. I think it's a cool religious fable to "teach" us to be good. I think you become a rotting corpse or some ashes over your favorite park or body of water, or bar. Other possibilities might include afterlives as a dictator, a frog, or a porn star.

But I wondered, wheh my time comes, how the interview for heaven might go.......

St. Peter: Ah, Tom McFeeley. I've been waiting for this day. I was afraid you'd come on my day off. When St. Patrick gets the gate, he lets all the Irish dudes in. Except those who had pet snakes.

Me: It's okay. I'm not that fond of St. Patrick's Day. I hope he doesn't read blogs. But, hey, you get days off?

St. Peter: Dude, it's heaven. The benefits up here are ungodly. Ooops, I keep saying that. But, we have lots to talk about. Would you like a seat in the heavenly recliner? There's a cold Heineken in the cup holder.

Me: A recliner? Outside the gates? Cold beer waiting? Sweet.

St. Peter: If it's that good outside the gates, imagine what it's like inside.

Me: Strippers?

St. Peter: If you get in, you'll find out. Now let's talk about this Susan Boyle thing.

Me: Pete, I'm really sorry. I was kinda tired that day. I was tired of the whole Susan Boyle thing. You see, it's only because she's ug -

Pete: Relax, McFeeley. It was freakin' funny. Taylor Hicks? That's just genius. But don't worry about that one. God made her ugly as a test.

Me: A test? What are you talking about?

Pete: Yeah, first God invented boils. On the feet. He thought it was funny, but you guys got all medical about it and didn't get the humor. Then he sent you Peter Boyle. Now that guy was odd, and very funny. And you still didn't get the joke. Well Gene Wilder, he got it. "Puttin' on the Ritz?" Pure genius. The big G loves that scene. We have a big party planned for Mr. Wilder upon is arrival.

Me: Peter Boyle is funny.

Pete: WAS funny.

Me: Oh, yeah he died.....Wait, he just died....Then we discover Susan Boyle. Is there a pl--

P: There is always a plan my man. Now you're getting it. She's 49 and never been kissed? Never did the tickle pickle, come on. Could we put ANYMORE fish in the sea. Clearly we just invented her this year.

Me; Yeah, otherwise she might have ended up with William Hung huh? (I chuckle)

P: Yeah, William Hung was St. Alyousius's idea. I'm telling you, you give a saint a fucked up name and he fights through it with good humor. It's like naming a boy Cody or Courtney or one of those other bullshit 21st century names.

Me: Yeah, I didn't have kids when I was married.

P: Thank GOD for that.

Me: Well, I guess you can. Where is the big guy?

P: Around the corner, but you gotta take an angel quite a distance. The G-man can't wait for Hefner to get here. God's pad makes the Playboy Manson look like a Studio Apartment.....Now, let's move onto the real business....We liked the Susan Boyle thing. Your appreciation of Stephen Lynch is somewhat disturbing. But that song about him waiting for his AIDS test? Funny stuff. So is there anything you wanna tell me?

Me: Uh, I once almost set a willow tree on fire when I was five. I let my brother take the fall for something I did. Though I did try to bring him some dessert.

P: Oh, how noble of you, you little rat.

Me: Uh, I once cheated my Mom when she was my English teacher and the girl I had a crush on to win a chocolate bar.

P: A Whatchamacallit, right?

Me: Yeah.

P: Good choice. What about that day you hooked up with a woman at a bar after you walked your blind date to her car and came back? Or letting that crazy girl in college think your friend was a warlock? Or your ongoing childhood attempts to put your cat in the toilet?

Me: The hardest thing to do, shoving a cat in the toilet. Those cats are strong creatures.

P: Well, you ain't going in the morality hall of fame. But you do help your elderly neighbor. You're good to your Mom. You generally go out of your way to help people, though the vast majority of them are attractive women.... But you make people laugh and laughter is slightly less important than oxygen. And we do think your idea of Special Olympians playing college mascots in basketball, though rough around the edges, does have potential. Both financial and economic. Good thinkng.

Me: So....I'm in?

P: Yes, you get in. Let me find the right key here. You'd think we have one entrance, but everytime a baker arrives, Gandhi just attacks him. That is one hungry dude.

Me: (trying to hug St. Peter), Thank you so much. I really appreci-

P: ---- oh stop with that. Orientation is at noon. You do have to shower first.

Me: Well...what....where are my clothes.

P: Dude, it's heaven. Only the front gate guy has to wear a robe. We go au naturale up here.

Me: Sweeeeet!

And then I wake up and realize I'm definitely headed to hell. I mean who tries to stuff a cat in a toilet...Oh yeah, my brother Sean tried it too. We're both going to hell. That's how our cat Oogie would prefer it. Yes, Oogie, don't ask. I'll tell you about it in hell.

13 comments:

Cee Bee said...

That was f'ing awesome! I loved the dialogue between you and St. Peter. I totally think it's like that. GOD HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR PEOPLE!!!
Now as for the first part, you're beginning to sound like Miss California. If you have something to say, just SAY IT! Don't be trying to sugar-coat it by saying, "sorry..." (or in Miss Cali's case, "...no offense.") Do you think that makes it all better?!
"I can't stand Italian men...with all those gold chains and Iroc-Z cars. No offense...." Oh THAT makes me feel better. As long as she says, "No offense...", then we're not offended??!!" It don't work that way, dude.
Just say what you have to say and stand by it.
PS - I don't hate Italians. I AM Italian :-)

J. said...

Can't believe I missed the Facebook post and that I didn't come up with Taylor Hicks in drag. Damn! Oops. Guess I'm going to Hell, too. (Though, as an agnostic, I'm not sure there is a Hell.)

Btw, since you supposedly don't believe in Heaven and Hell, I found the dialog with St. Pete a bit disingenuous. Clearly you are conflicted. Funny, but conflicted. Just curious: Are you praying for the Mets to get their shite together and for the Jets to have a good year?

But getting back to Susan Boyle (wasn't that Taylor Hicks's drag name?), I am 100% with you. It is PATHETIC that those stupid British judges and many people in this country think it so astonishing that someone who isn't drop-dead gorgeous could have any kind of talent. Pathetic, and disheartening.

Sean and Jami said...

Congratulations... you're going to heaven. Just don't plan on getting laid again before that happens.

Melanie Szlucha said...

Let's play with this scenario. A pre-fame Susan Boyle walks into Tom's office as a new client.

She wants a ton of PR, millions of hits on YouTube...writes a big, fat check.

Tom's angle: "We're gonna play off the fact that you've got a face that could stop a clock. The media will call you homely and ugly, but you'll get a gazillion hits and more fame than you can imagine.

Oh--and not that it's any of my business-but you've never been kissed right? 'Cause THAT would only help our cause if we "leaked" that info."

What would she do?

Yet that was the pitch that worked.

People can't tell me that when we first opened that video that we didn't expect her to either 1. Sound VERY, VERY bad, or 2. Do something completely humiliating on stage. That's why these things get forwarded.

And there are plenty of HOT musicians out on YouTube that would give their good looks for even just 10 min. of this fame.

It was the juxtaposition of her sound and appearance that made it a sensation. But sadly, that's how people are. We form decisions of people based on how they look.

It's the unexpected--sometimes in forms that we're not especially proud of--that sells.

J. said...

Sean and Melanie are dead on. Great comments. : )

TommyMac71 said...

Cara: the point is we created this mess so we shouldn't act all "touched" that we were shocked that an ugly person can sing. And she's is one of the ugliest people I've ever seen. (As most people have thought, but are too 'nice' to say out loud)

Sean (or Jami), whoever -- I can get laid anytime...Just get on the tele "uh, can I speak to Susan Boyle.....yes, honey, yep. I'll fly you over. Virgin Airlines."

Elmer said...

I guess she had her maker over

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Irene said...

Dude, you are so going to hell, but not for any of this blog. Remember that time back at Iona.....

TommyMac71 said...

No, Irene, I don't.

Blasé said...

You went to "Hell" when the Blogosphere women came down hard on your ass.

TommyMac71 said...

Blase:

I actually enjoyed that part of it....

Irene said...

That's ok, I am sure St. Peter will.......

Suzy said...

I think the Susan Boyle not being pretty thing is weird because we all know if she was 22 and gorgeous (which she wasn't) she might have made it. This is all the brilliant mind of Simon Cowell, who got another non-starter, Paul Potts, to sell 2 million records. The U.S. is really such a mess.