AMERICA’S GOT CHOMSKY
Clad in
baggy clothes with gaudy jewellery draped around her neck, 8 year old Tanya, otherwise
known as Little T, walked onto the stage and was met with a muted applause from
the crowd. After the usual questions from the judges she started rapping, a
song she had written all about homework and how much it sucks. Rhymes emanated
from her mouth at an incredible rate as the atmosphere in the auditorium became
one of frenzied appreciation. Mel B looked on in positive disbelief while Howie
Mandel remained composed, a wry smile the only give away that he was enjoying
it. Heidi Klum scrunched her face to signify that she found this act adorable
but it was Noam Chomsky, Howard Stern’s replacement for this season, who was
the most excited. He stood up in his chair, danced along to the music and when it
was time for the comments he didn’t hold back in his enthusiasm.
“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmnnnnn
gurl,” he began, you certainly brought your Mojo tonight. That was PHAT with a
capital P capital H sista!!!!” Everyone cheered like crazy.
Chomsky’s
family however, who were backstage in the green room, remained silent as they
watched with concern, desperately hoping this was just a phase he was going
through.
THE STAG PARTY
Robert, Carl,
Marcus and Nathan were four men who defined the word friendship. The bond
between them had never diminished, having remained in tact from when they were
pre-pubescent tykes through to spotty, awkward adolescents and all the way up
to men in their early thirties who are somewhat depressed that middle age is
looming. When Nathan broke the news that him and his long term girlfriend,
Gwen, had gotten engaged, the scene was emotional as he was going to be the
first of the group to get married. What made the moment even more poignant was
that Nathan had decided that all three of them should be his best man.
A few
months before the wedding they travelled to Las Vegas for the stag party with no expense
spared. On the very first night, after a day of drinking, gambling and strip
clubs, they retired to Marcus’ hotel room for a nightcap.
“I know I’m
pissed, but fuck it I’m just gonna say it, I love you guys,” Robert slurred as
he sat on the floor against the bed, a glass of JD and coke in his hand.
“I think
someone’s had a bit too much to drink but we love you too man,” said Nathan.
“Ya know I
was thinking today, how similar we are to the characters in The Hangover,” said
Marcus. “There’s four of us, we’re in Vegas and let’s face it we’re just as
mental.”
“That’s for
sure” said Nathan.
“Which one
do you think you are?” Marcus asked him.
“Well I am
getting married so I suppose if we’re going by the first film that would make
me Doug, but I think my personality is more like the Ed Helms character, Stu.
He’s a dentist, I’m an optician and we’re both kinda geeky.”
“No
arguments from us there,” Robert teased.
“Shut up
you” Nathan said as he flicked some foam from his beer in Robert’s direction before
turning towards Carl who had thus far remained quiet for the duration of this
discussion.
“What about
you? Which one do you think you are?”
Carl
sighed, knocked back the rest of his drink and gazed up at his three friends.
“Which one
am I?” Carl said, “I think I’m the character who’s fed up. Fed up of people
going on and on and on about a film that was average at best, that then went on
to be a piss poor, cynical, money making franchise. He’s fed up with people
calling it one of the best comedies of all time. The character I am, wants
nothing more than to kidnap anyone who holds that opinion, keep them prisoner
for a whole month and show them countless films that are far funnier and
believe me there are thousands of them and no that’s not just a matter of
fucking opinion, that’s a fact. He’s also fed up of stag parties with t-shirts
that have ‘wolf pack’ written on them .
.”
Marcus
stared guiltily at his unopened luggage.
“He’s fed
up with all the wedding related comedies that exist because of it, or the jock,
frat boy ones that seem to be ubiquitous in the past few years since The
Hangover was released. He’s fed up of people quoting lines from the film to
him, having to smile and nod along and then out of politeness and social
etiquette coupled with the fact that he doesn’t want to be seen as somebody
who’s going against the grain just for the sake of it, he ultimately has to pretend that he loves it too. Oh yes
it was genius wasn’t it? Mike Tyson singing In The Air Tonight, I know, . . . .You’re right Mike Tyson’s not a singer,
he’s a boxer so he is. . . . . . .Yes that’s a very sad song he sang and Mike
Tyson, he’s a big tough guy. That’s why IT WAS SO FUCKING HILARIOUS . . . . . . .
.He’s fed up, so unbelievably fed up of such mediocrity being celebrated, that
he ends up taking his own life. I’m that character”
As if from
nowhere, Carl produced a revolver, put it to his head and pulled the trigger.
Blood and bits of his brain splattered on the walls, on the hotel furniture and
on the faces of his dumbfound friends. They stared at his corpse for what
seemed like an eternity. Eventually Marcus broke the deafening silence in the
room. Smiling and shaking his head, he turned to the others.
“I think
we’ve found the Phil of the group.”
DAYS LIKE THESE (With Father Tierney)
After a
busy enough afternoon hearing confessions, the last of Father Tierney’s sinful
customers was a young boy of about 12.
“Bless me
father for I have sinned,” said the boy
nervously. “It’s been three years since my last confession.”
“That’s
alright son, tell me your sins.”
“I didn’t
show love when I fought with my sister and called her a bad name. I didn’t show
love when I disobeyed my Mam and played my X box instead of cleaning me room. . . .and eh . . . .”
“Yes, what
else?”
“I didn’t
show love when I talked in class. . . .
.They’re all me sins Father.”
“Okay good
boy, I absolve you from your sins. For your penance I want you to say 2 Our
Fathers, 3 Hail Marys and 1 Glory Be To The Father.”
While
walking home Father Tierney was reflecting on his day, hearing confessions. He stopped
suddenly in his tracks realising he was after making a big mistake. Fighting with your sister, disobeying your
mother and talking in class he thought, the
penance for that should be 3 Our Fathers 1 Hail Mary and 2 Glory Be’s, not 2
Our Fathers, 3 Hail Marys and 1 Glory Be To The Father which is what I gave
him. All Father Tierney could do was laugh.
As soon as he got home, he rang his sister Dolores to tell her all about it and although this
was technically breaking the seal of confession it was just too good an
anecdote not to share, especially seeing as Dolores loved hearing stories of
her younger brother making an eejit of himself.
For his dinner that night
Father Tierney decided to make himself Spaghetti Bolognese. He had the sauce
simmering away and the water boiling for his Spaghetti but when he opened his
press he realised he was out of pasta. By the time he got back from the shop
and he had sat down to his dinner, it was already 7:30 and he had missed that
night’s episode of Emmerdale, probably his second favourite show after
Nationwide.
After he
had finished washing up Father Tierney sat down with a nice cup of tea and a
digestive biscuit, ready to download some child porn but wouldn’t you know his
computer was on the fritz.
“Whatever
next?” he exclaimed, chuckling and looking up to the heavens. When he
eventually retired to bed, he saw that he had left his bedroom window open and
a noisy bluebottle had flown in.
“Buzz,
buzz, buzz,” went the bluebottle as Father Tierney chased him around the room
with a rolled up parish newsletter, trying to swat him dead. You see, everyone
has days like these, even priests.