The "Legitimacy" of the Unborn Baby Bird

This really isn't a "Nah, Mug" directly to Justin Timberlake. That would be way too easy and obvious. This is a "Nah, Mug" to the mind-bogglingly crazed bufu mongers who insist he is legitimate as an artist. I feel like I'm taking crazy pills when I hear these brain-dead earth-wanderering pop culture zombies blather, with no hint of self-awareness of the level of their wildly, wildly bufu comments. I mean, Nah-Mugging these people is also pretty easy and obvious, except that I find no one really addresses them, and they won't shut up about it. So here I go.

People who tell me he really "has talent" because he can "dance" so well, and that he's such a good singer and — I hear this a lot — that he's wildly multi-talented because he's so "funny" in SNL sketches. Oh, and also that he's a good actor. The clincher is women telling me's legitimately "sexy."

First of all, being talented at shitty arts does not make you legitimate or worthy of my respect. So you can dance like a dingaling and sing like an even worse fag? Look, mugs, being a giant pussy sucks. Being a REAL fag like Freddy Mercury is what's awesome. The difference is that most of Queen's songs rock, and Timberlake's are pitiful and unlistenable garbage. See the distinction?

Further, being "funny" in sketches written by professional comedy writers, aided by professional comic actors, is not a sign of legitimacy. This impresses people too ignorant to understand how it works. Peyton Manning was funny on SNL. I'll concede that Michael Phelps was unable to even be funny on SNL, but he was probably stoned as hell. Timberlake pulled it off not because he's funny but because, unlike Phelps, he's had theater experience in how to read lines. Again, written by someone else.

He's kind of passable as an actor in a couple roles I've seen, I'll give you that.

However, let's talk about this "sexy" shit. THE MUG LOOKS LIKE AN UNBORN BABY BIRD and talks like a stone girl. Case closed.

This is all bad enough, but when a heterosexual male, in all seriousness, tells me Timberlake is truly legitimate (they at least leave out the "sexy" part), I seriously want to just set them the hell on fire. I've always known that the PR machines and such behind pop culture are pretty powerful, but I haven't seen brainwashing and mental conditioning like this since Hitler convinced everyone in Germany somehow not to laugh at him hysterically in his first speech in the '30s. Or to not laugh hysterically just upon seeing his face and head.

Of course, when you tell someone this, they say, "You're just jealous." Sure, I'd love to have fame and fortune, but why on earth would I be "jealous" of a mug who does myriad shit I have no interest in and no respect for? It would be like me telling these people "Oh, you're just jealous of child molesters, because you say they suck. You really wanna be one. You're jealous of everything you say sucks."

I engage in the viewing of some chode-up shit, such as "American Idol," just sometimes watching with my wife. But I'd never call it legitimate. Therein lies the rub.

If you insist he's legit, mugs, well, I just feel sorry for ya.

Most Cliche Song Ever

I didn't have my XM unit plugged in during a recent trip, so I had to resort to FM. Scanning channels, I came upon a modern country station and a song so breathtakingly terrible that I seriously felt like it was some kind of SNL spoof. 

On at least a dozen occasions in the last 10 years, I've ventured to FM country radio and heard songs that made me think, "Now, THAT is the worst, most cliche, most uncreative insulting-to-people's-intelligence song ever made." And with each successive listen, the previous worst song is bested in terribleness by another. The newest winner is called "Where I'm From" by Jason Michael Carroll (the uriney guy with the long blonde hair pictured).

First matter of business: "Jason Michael Carroll?" Nah, mug.

Next: The lyrics. Couldn't be more cliche. Front pew of a wooden white church? A man's word? Quarterback and homecoming queen? High school flames? GODDAMN! Nah, mug!

He proudly rattles off the most generic list of "small town" stuff to a guy in an Armani suit who he claims laughed at his boots and jeans in the first class section of an airplane. Guess what faggot: No such interchange took place. Yes, I know songs can tell a fictional story, but it's supposed to ring true. The mug didn't have on Armani. If he did, he didn't "laugh" at your jeans and boots.

Oh, and it wouldn't be godawful piece of shit modern country song without throwing in the plot twist (no surprise) that your brother has cancer. Oh and goddaaaaaaaamn, you really threw us with the next plot twist that Armani Guy is from a small town, too. 

I wretched.

Of course, this "Lemme tell ya 'bout where I'm from and how simple and great it is" trend in lyrics has been going on for a while. All the songs are about this concept. Rather than tell a story about doing something, which is written in a language that tells you where they are from as a by-product of the story (for example, "Hey Good Lookin'" by Hank Williams), these unoriginal bastards just tell ya straightforwardly and boringly "I'm from da country, blah blah blah, we's raised wif values an' we like fried chicken and skinny-dippin' and we's like da moonlight." It would be like if instead of actual dialogue, Woody Allen just ran around in "Annie Hall" saying "I'm a neurotic jew! I like sex!"

Don't get me wrong. I am not slamming the concept of being country and being from a small town and appreciating the attributes of said country small town. That's great and has been done years ago in a far more artistically pleasing manner (see Tom T. Hall). I am in no way dissing small town or country life. I am dissing the fucking awful excuse for creativity or anything moving in these gaywaddy songs. I also must mention that each is done in the overproduced, soaring, huge sound that is now put on every single song out of Nashville.

So I hit scan. And lo and goddamn just behold, I came upon a song called "It's America" by some plug named Rodney Atkins (the peanutty turd pictured also, with — big surprise — a front-tuck). For some reason I can't paste the lyrics here in this post. Please, please Google the lyrics of both these songs.

THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY

Use your own judgment as to which is which.

Breasto.

(Clicking noise.)

Things Unacceptable: Part 2

Heath Ledger. This has nothing to do with his "work" (assuming we call acting work). "Maaaaaaan, I'm a father and I'm-a just goooooooo do a buncha diffurnt druuuuuuuuuuuuugs and diiiiiiiiiiiie."

Actually, this ire isn't so much aimed at Ledger himself. This "Nah, Mug" goes out to all those people who feel so sorry for him and don't hold him out to be a shitty dad for going out to clubs and doing blow and various other shit instead of being a father. Fuck all the celebrity ball-lickers who jack off to people like Heath Ledger and don't demand that he admit dildoness from the grave.

Nah nah nah, mugs.

Whatever the hell this is. I call it "Gilligan's Island." Tired of hearing about it. Move on, mugs. Case closed.


Juggalos.

Things Unacceptable (a Photo Essay): Part 1

Human gonad.


The penis from Modest Mouse.


A Lincoln pickup truck.

BUNS

.....buns......

Guy Who Said Making Fun of Dane Cook Is Not Cutting Edge

We aren't attempting to be cutting edge. Being cutting edge is for women who don't work for a living and use the latest jeans to fill a void in their souls, or douchebags who are into "networking" and having on the latest innovative diving watch just to tell them what time to golf with another gay bastard.

Mug, we are both nearly 40 years old and sit around farting and giggling. I'd rather be dead than be "cutting edge." 

Run along and go to a cutting edge Modest Mouse show and have the singer call you names, and then beat off to it. I'll be at home taking a shit and laughing at how bad it smells.

Maaaaaaaaan. Piiiiit buuuuull owners.

Hey redneck pussies with pit bulls (or akitas or whatever the fuck) in the back of your truck: Nah nah nah nah, see.

I know your dick is so tiny that you can't locate it under your Hardy's Thickburger-fortified gut, but you don't need to compensate by chaining a vicious attack dog up in the back of your truck. I know it seems like the perfect accessory to go with your shaved head, goatee and cheesy sunglasses, but seriously — when you pull up to order your underpaid Mexicans on your landscaping crew around, the rest of the world is unimpressed with your dog. I saw you looking around at passing cars to see if they checked your biz out. I'm sure you were thrilled inside to see that I did.

Sure, we won't go near it, because we know it's trained to hurt people. This isn't a show of respect but rather a show of "stay clear of the lunatic redneck and his nasty pet." The chrome chain collar on the dog surely adds at least another half inch to the fantasy dick you now have, in your mind, due to owning this beast. 

Take that shit out of my neighborhood. We have small children busting around. Your vicious dog and the odor of your cheap cologne in the breeze aren't doing anyone any good.

I feel sorry for the dog. He has a pissant for an owner, and it's not his fault he's vicious. I truly wish he'd pin you down and fuck your zitty bottom. 

Be strong. Cut the crap.

P. S. Turn down the Kid Rock. Especially when you are at the lake on your fucking ugly ski boat with the wakeboarding rig.

Something gaywaddy people do.....

I've noticed that when gaywaddy people, especially like women who want to come off as being real rich or real country-clubby, get ready to do pretty much ANYTHING, they usually announce what they are going to do with a statement that begins like "We gawn....(do this or that gay thing.)"

It's very bizzarre, because the people that I hear talking like this are largely women who normally talk in a very cutesy sort of "hey girl" way. I also hear mugs talking this way on occasion. Usually the type of mugs who wear Vineyard Vines polos because Polo polos are passe' and they already stepped up to Lacostes and are over them, so they had to step it up again to Vineyard Vines.

I find that many couples who want you to think that they are sort of rich start talking in this manner. For instance, if they are having friends over to watch a college football game and grill out they might say the following:

"We gawn have a pah-tay mugs. We gawn be drankin' gray goose and watchin' da flat-scrayne. Holla!"

This type of talk seems to be an attempt to sort of playfully say to their friends and acquaintences:

"Yawl knaaaaaaw we got mun-eh!"

Then they crack open a cold Sierra Nevada pale ale or Anchor Steam....$6.99 per sick pack.

Dane Cook

Front-tuck. Dildoey hand gesture. Lack of comedy. Just everything about you. Nah, mug.

Seriously though, I've heard a couple (just a couple) bits of yours on XM that made me laugh. The rest of your work has made me feel deeply, deeply wilded by you.

It's hard to say all this because I believe you mean well and are probably a really nice guy. And I admire how hard you've worked. But goddamn, dude, you flat suck.

A Rare YES, Mug

Stone this:

U2

U2 is good. They were best in the early 1980s and have remained good in various phases. But for God's sake, let's stop overrating them. If I hear one more person name them the best band in history, or even in the top 10, I may vomit.

Even in their heyday, they weren't even as good as, say, Billy Squire.

To U2 freaks: Nah, mug.

Same goes for Bruce Springsteen. Good but not the best. Just stop blathering about it.

I find that mugs who consider these artists to be the pinnacle of music just don't have a very expansive exposure to or familiarity with music. Again, both U2 and Bruce are good stuff, but to say they are the greatest or even up there is like saying Chili's and Applebee's are the greatest restaurants ever.

Rednecky Fancy Women Who Call Each Other "Girl"

I'm referring to the kind of well-kept but rednecky as hell women who call each other "girl" in a sort of pseudo "woo chile" type of voice. They are rednecky but really clean, with, of course, French fake nails, a fake tan, tight jeans and some "cute top" and sort of dressed in whatever is the current fashion of cheesy celebrity women.

These women might be married to a contractor who wears a fishy shirt and some Costa del Mar shades or some other lunk wearing this year's most new logo'd golf shirt just like the one the current coach of whatever SEC school he's a fan of but didn't attend wears. In other words, mugs who deeply me with how deeply gay they are.

"Woo, girl, you got to tell me where you got those cuuuuuute shoooooes!"

Nah, mug.

Bluetooth Goobers

I almost didn't post this, since it's so obvious and probably quite unoriginal for something to scorn, but here's my two cents and my "Nah, mug," because while I hear people admonish USERS of Bluetooth devices, there's another subset to be addressed.

If you are someone who drives all the time for your job, it makes sense to field and make phone calls while on the road. It also makes sense to do so hands-free so you are driving safe. But once you get out of the car, leave that fucking Star Trek ear wad in your ride. See, when you are walking around or sitting in a restaurant or whatever the fuck you do, and you are talking, the act of actually holding the phone to your ear is a friendly sign to the rest of the world that you are not talking to them. It saves us from turning and thinking you are speaking to us or that you are bat-shit insane. I'm not saying you should talk on a phone in a restaurant. I'm saying that when you do, please use the phone correctly. Otherwise, nah, mug.

But now on to the subset of Bluetooth owners who simply wear them during all waking hours, whether talking or not. Those for whom it's a fashion accessory. It's like wearing a cast when your arm is not broken. Mugs, what the just fuck?

Here's what I ask you to do: Go to a sporting goods store. Pick out a nice baseball bat -- wood or aluminum, whichever you prefer. Go outside. Beat yourself over the head with it.

Trilby?

I've read that these hats are popular these days and are called Trilbys"......nah, mug. Unless you are Justin Timberlake or some other guy dating a starlet like Jessica Biel or you are an elderly black man with a cane pole and a feather in the hat band sitting on a 5 gallon bucket, do not wear this hat. If you absolutely must wear the hat, do not stroke your chin and try to look pensive like the wad above. Note to wad above: You have chosen to wear your trilby with a black t-shirt. Leave this bar at once and go to comic-con. Take the guy with Terrence Trent D'arby's hair with you.

Welcome to Nah, Mug

Try as we might to eliminate negativity from our lives, it seems others do not cooperate. They prance around doing things that are clearly gay, and yet they refuse to realize gay, feel gay or admit gay. And so we just feel it's our duty to feel negative toward them. It's our natural inclination to tell 'em, "Nah, mug."

First, a little explanation of our terminology: We use the term "gay" here not to mean homosexual but to mean just gay. You know the difference. And to "feel gay" is to know in your heart that you did the wrong thing or that you are embarrassed by your actions. As long as there are mugs out there who act gay and refuse to admit gay or even feel gay, we will be here to tell them, "Nah, mug."

You say you're going to the club tonight and paying $400 for "bottle service" so you can share a $20 bottle of Grey Goose with some skeezers and pucker your lips like L.L. Cool J? Nah, mug. You must realize gay, feel gay and admit gay.

You are going to a Kenny Chesney concert and you're telling me he's deep? Nah, mug.

You think John Rich (pictured) of Big & Rich is talented and his songs aren't wildly gay? What the fuck is wrong with you? Nah nah nah nah, mug.

You paid $200 for a t-shirt? Fuck you, and nah, mug.

You have a goatee? Nah, mug.

You get the picture. This blog will be a repository for the two of us to vent our frustrations with mugs by telling them indirectly on the internet, "Nah, mug."

We hope you enjoy.