I digress. The point is, I’ve been busy. The content on the site has been mostly driven by Kent and hilarious contributors. I receive a loud voicemail every other day from Kent that is almost entirely comprised of vulgarities and racial epithets that don’t apply to me. I’m sorry buddy, but you just can’t coerce hilarity out of someone. It has to come from inspiration.

And well, I found some inspiration the other day. The following is my commentary on a list from a website called “The Frisky” about what you should teach your sons about women. What kind of website has that kind of ridiculous name? Good question. It’s a site by women, for women. Anytime a woman writes something about how men work, what men think, or generally anything about men, you can almost guarantee that it’s completely wrong. This list is a decent example of that, although I do agree with some of what it says. The rest of it… well… You’ll see. Here it is. The list itself will be in bold, my comments will be in italics. Bon Appetit, gluttons.

1. Pick your battles.

Right on. Some stuff just isn’t worth the blood and violence. Like with Iraq, you know? After we got into the thick of it we realized, “hey, this might have been better to avoid.” Love is like that. Love is like Iraq. Yeah, that’s it. Remember that, all you single kids. Love is like Iraq.

2. Walk on the outside (closer to the street) of your female companion.

Also a good point. Although I’m not sure that the ladies over at The Frisky know the origins of that rule – it started back in the day when roads weren’t paved. The man walked on the outside in case there was mud or water in the crappy streets. If there was a splash from a passing horse or cart, he’d take the brunt of it. See that? TTM just educated you. You’re officially not wasting your time.

3. Saying “You’re being crazy” is never an appropriate response, unless you want her to go postal on you.

Hmmm… I mean, I get what she’s saying here. That’s probably not a productive thing to say in an argument, but essentially point #3 says that calling a woman crazy makes her crazy… which in effect proves the statement correct, doesn’t it? And going “postal” usually refers to really violent actions, i.e. a disgruntled postal worker shooting a bunch of people. So what you’re saying, Friksy (which coincidentally was also the name of my first dog, RIP) is that calling a woman crazy will turn her into a murdering psychotic.

4. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of kids are things men can actually do as well as women.

True, true, maybe. Maybe it’s just me, but when my Dad would take care of us while my Mom was sick or out of town, it was a drastically different experience involving lots of microwaved food and diapers made out of newspaper.

5. Keep backup supplies of quality chocolate in the house for her to raid.

True. Chocolate is like catnip for women.

6. Buying tampons and other feminine products shouldn’t embarrass you –everyone knows they’re not for you.

Pshhh! How do they know they’re not for me?! I’m not buying that crap, like I’m gay or something. Chhh. Dumb chicks. (Seriously though, dudes don’t like doing this because it’s kind of weird and gross, not because they’re afraid people will think they’re bleeding out of their vagina.)

7. Women like compliments and gifts.

Men like beer and nudity. And compliments and gifts.

8. Earning less than her shouldn’t be emasculating.

Earning less than him shouldn’t activate the inferiority complex that your loveless father ingrained in you as a child.

9. Be on time, even if she usually isn’t.

That way you can make her feel really guilty about always being late and use it as a tool to manipulate her! Brilliant, Frisky!

10. Don’t be a pouty puppy when shopping with her.

Don’t make him go shopping with you if you don’t want to deal with him inevitably hating it. Studies have shown, actually, that women enjoy shopping because for them it’s a sensory experience – they enjoy the colors and textures of the items, making the experience very stimulating for them.  Mens’ brains, however, aren’t wired to appreciate the same stimuli. Suck it, Frisky.

11. Find out what her favorite flower is.

Conceded. Good point. Otherwise you’d never have a good card to pull out when you screw something up.

12. If you like her, then don’t buy her shoes; it’s bad luck.

Sounds like someone is inserting a little bit of their own personal narrative into this guide. I feel like some dude’s name should be italicized at the end of that statement.

13. Smiling and nodding aren’t the same as listening.

Thought vomiting isn’t the same as talking.

14. It’s OK to cry in front of her, but keep the blubbering to a minimum.

Wow. “Be vulnerable, but only to the extent of novelty. Any real vulnerability isn’t welcome.” Someone is a little dysfunctional.

15. Personality goes a long way.

Trying to justify your ugly boyfriend, huh?

16. At some point she’ll be more important than your mother.

Unless your name is Oedipus! BAM!

17. You will never completely understand women.

That’s because they’re crazy. Oh, no! Please don’t shoot me!

18. Oh yeah, and no woman will ever be good enough for my baby!

I don’t even know what the hell this is about. Freud? Where are you?

It doesn’t? Not even a little bit? Please, I welcome your counterpoint, although I fear it will be insufficient.

Walking Stigmata

What? That gentleman over there? No, of course he doesn’t look like the Pascal Lamb! Well, to start he’s clean shaven! No, he doesn’t look like you. Not at all. His hair is so short! Sure it’s the same color, fine. But still, I maintain that you look completely different, him having absolutely no resemblance to Jesus, the Rose of Sharon.

That’s true, good point. You are blonde and you do have two very blue eyes. It makes sense that Jesus probably didn’t have those two Aryan traits. Nevertheless, I’m going to stand my ground and say that your follicle features bring to mind artistic renditions of the one and only Son of God.

Riddle me this, Christ impersonator: What if Jesus was an albino? Oh, right, sure. Now you bring in statistics. The guy raised people from the dead and gave blind people sight, and you’re going to say that the chances of Him being an albino Jew – who would thus look a lot like you, save the nose – are “astronomically low”?

What was that? Touché, touché. Based on most long-haired modern Israelis, it is likely that Jesus’ hair wouldn’t be naturally straight like yours. I’m going to go out on a limb though, and submit to you the following explanation of your resemblance to One Third of the Holy Trinity: maybe back then, as it is now, it was fashionable to straighten one’s hair for aesthetic reasons. Furthermore, perhaps Ancient Hebrews found it appealing to bleach their hair, just as Americans did about a decade ago.

Well, sir, I beg to differ. I don’t think it’s a far jump in logic at all. Certainly you’re not suggesting that Jesus had a poor fashion sense? That’s what I thought. Excuse me for believing that Christ the Redeemer – He who turned water into wine, mind you – could turn His hair blonde and His eyes blue if He wanted to do so. All powerful, remember? Even so, I still think it looks as though you modeled for the statue of the Good Shepherd that I purchased just yesterday at a Family Christian Bookstore.

Oh, okay. Now you’re backpedaling. So you’re saying He could have, but He didn’t? I guess you’re aware of some physically descriptive Biblical passage that I must have missed somehow? You’re not? Well then, it stands to reason that the Lion of Judah could just as easily look like you as He could look like that Hasidic Rabbi over there. You’re grasping at straws now. Let’s just part ways, agreeing at least on the point that you probably look a lot like Jesus, if not exactly like Him.

I think you’re being unreasonable.

Calling people names doesn’t really belong in a conversation about The Lord, does it? Well you don’t talk like Jesus did, that’s for sure.

Well I wish you would turn that Evian into chardonnay, but if you did I assure you I would not shove it there or anywhere, I would drink it gratefully. Right, then. Good day, sir, and God bless.

Next it's shirts with my face on them

Hello TTM Readers. this is just another installment in a long series of Self Promoting articles that have no substance in and of themselves, but only link to articles on other websites. I wrote my first “political” article for a Chicago website called Gaper’s Block. I met the political editor at Pilcrow Literary Festival, where I was a panelist with him. So if you’re feeling political and are tired of abusing your abdominal muscles with laughter here at TTM, take a jaunt over there and check out my article. It’s somewhat benign, I’d say:

Gay Marriage and Why Evangelicals Shouldn’t Care

Thanks for your undying love and charity laughs.

cheers.

-conor.

First we have a little news article submitted to me by our webmaster Isaac the Conqueror:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8081829.stm

It’s about two gay penguins that raise an adopted egg. No, this isn’t a nightmare from a conservative children’s book writer. Apparently it’s news from some German zoo. I’m not sure if anyone in the world really gives a damn about the fact that this is happening or has happened, but if they do I have a couple ideas of some potential perspectives that might arise on the issue.

The Raging “Conservative” Fundamentalists: Well this is just proof of how liberal Europe has become. Even their animals are gay. AND they let their GAY animals adopt babies! Europe has gone to hell!

The Raging “Liberal” GLBTs: See? See? Even penguins are gay and raise babies. Everyone likes penguins. Didn’t you see Happy Feet? Carrie Perjean, will you validate our lifestyle now?

Here’s the problem with both perspectives: they’re f’ing penguins. Who gives a crap whether or not they’re gay or raise babies as gays or whatever? They’re PENGUINS. BIRDS. They have minuscule brains. They’re not even closely related to us evolutionarily, if at all. At most this is some retarded news at which people should giggle or coo or grimace and forget immediately. This neither proves nor disproves anything. We already know gay people exist and that gay people can and will raise adopted babies, probably with the same successes and failures as heterosexual households. So who cares about penguins that do it? The only reason to report on it is to say “Look! Them too!” It’s pointless. These light-in-the-feet penguins aren’t going to raise a gayguin. (Did that work? That combination? I hope it did.) Anyway, like I said, I’m not sure if anyone commented on this “news” like I predicted. But honestly, would you be surprised?

Moving on. TWITTER. You’ve heard of it, right? The Talking Mirror has too. I run it because Kent breaks most things technological and because I’m a control freak. So anyway, TTM is following Carrie Prejean.

Because of the above video clip, Prejean has become somewhat of a spokeswoman for the anti-gay-marriage movement in addition to being a kind of Evangelical “icon,” if you will. One day I was just hanging out, being unemployed and screwing around on twitter when Prejean told her twitter followers that she had time to take some questions. I decided I’d see if I could get some substance out of the bodacious blond. I didn’t ask anything funny. Yeah, I can be serious. Seriously.

Here’s the transcript of TTM’s Official First Interview with Carrie Prejean.

TalkingMirror@CarriePrejeanCA Why are you a Christian?

CarriePrejeanCA@TalkingMirror I am a christian because God has changed my life in so many amazing ways. I trust and belive [sic] in him.

CarriePrejeanCA@TalkingMirror He gets me through the day!

TalkingMirror@CarriePrejeanCA How often do you read your Bible?

CarriePrejeanCA@TalkingMirror Everyday! I love the Bible!! It helps me know what to do and what decisons [sic] to make!

TalkingMirror@CarriePrejeanCA How do you deal with the responsibility of representing your faith to a very scrutinizing world?

CarriePrejeanCA@TalkingMirror I jus [sic] try to keep my head held high!

Clearly, as you can see from her answers, Prejean is in love with TTM and we’re now “going steady.” Don’t be shy Carrie-poo. I know you love us like we love you and your boo– er– super profound intellect. Right.

I also wanted ton include a link to a PDF of a serious article by Onion writer and one time TTM contributer Kurt Luchs. It’s not funny, but it’s very good. It’s short and worth the read:

http://www.ganderpress.com/spring2009/names/luchs.pdf

And, finally:

Some News in Review 06/05/09 Neti Pot from Conor McCarthy on Vimeo.

If you’ve missed out so far, we find our two heroes Zac and Conor on their way to Australia to destroy the evil Ugg Boots once and for all, ridding the world of their horrid visage forever. A further summary can be found on part four (linked above) as well as links to the previous installments.

they're coming for you in your dreams

They were everywhere, the Uggs. Not with people attached to them, but just the horrible formless booties themselves, stomping all over Conor’s abdomen as if they operated by their own, horrifying volition. Suddenly Lady Gaga started playing, but not as if over speakers. It was everywhere, meaningless, inexplicable “Mah mah mah mah’s” resonating through Conor’s very veins. There were screens everywhere showing “Sex and the City,” “Bride Wars,” and every crappy parody by the guys that brought us “Scary Movie.” And then Murphy’s Law was brought to its most terrible apex: Carson Daly stood over him, making out with Jennifer Love Hewitt who, while speaking out of the side of her mouth as she continued to kiss the Skeletor-like fame monger, repeated over and over “I love you, Carson Daly and will never, ever love Conor.”

“Nooo! Nooo! Jennifer! Nooo!” Conor screamed, writhing as the Uggs began a full assault on his man-jewels. “Please Merciful God kill me now!” His world began to shake violently, and he felt as though God was going to answer his desperate plea. He felt his face jar side to side, as if it were being slapped, and then he was very wet and -

“Conor! Wake up man! You’re having a nightmare!” Zac screamed, shaking his friend by his shoulders. Conor sat up immediately, drenched in sweat.

“Where the hell am I? Where’s Jennifer? Jennifer!”

“Dude, dude, bro. Chill out. We’re in the back of a cargo plane on the way to Australia,” Zac said, placing a conciliatory hand on his friend’s arm.

Conor sat up, wiping his forehead. “So… That was all a dream? Jennifer hasn’t left me for Carson Douchely?”

“No man, not at all,” responded Zac, sitting down, his back against a large crate. “She’s at home with Giovannia, remember? You called her before we took off?”

“Yeah, yeah… A cargo plane? Why a cargo plane?” Asked Conor, standing up and looking around as he stretched.

“The only affordable flight I could get at such short notice was riding with a shipment of Snuggies into Sydney. Apparently Aussies love to look like retarded cult members.”

Conor’s face cleared of anxiety, coming again to a state of calm. “Right, I remember now… I guess I get a little amnesic after such terrible dreams. Who the hell is listening to Lady Gaga?”

“My bad dude,” Zac said, turning his portable cd-player off.

“Snuggies huh? Man, I hope these aren’t our next enemies…”

Zac laughed and shook his head. “Nah man, of course not. People have better sense than to… Well. I guess I shouldn’t speak so hastily. We are, of course, still battling Uggs.”

He was so very right. Snuggies, Uggs – they were two stones cut from the same ridiculous-looking quarry of irresponsibly poor taste. Luckily, the Snuggies only represented a passing As Seen on TV trend, not an international super-villain.

“So when do we land, did I forget that too?” Conor asked. Fatigued from the intense dream he had just had, he stood up and moved around, punching the air vigorously.

“No, you didn’t forget that part… I didn’t tell you why this was so affordable. We’re not really landing, exactly.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Zac looked at Conor apprehensively. “Look man, I know you’re afraid of heights. But you gotta remember this is for all mankind, alright? We’re saving the world.”

“Dude. No no no. You’d better be screwing with me.”

“I’m not. We’re jumping out of this plane and into the wild Australian outback,” Zac said, grinning stupidly and holding up two parachutes.

“Why in the hell are we doing that?!” his friend responded fearfully.

“Because…” Zac paused, changing his tone from consolation to reason. “That’s where we’ll be meeting with Hughgolas Jackman and The Council of Uggrond… If we’re going to end this evil forever, we’re going to need help.”

To be continued…

Conor and I have speculated about the dozens, indeed hundreds, of possible causes for this spike in traffic (i.e. Facebook statuses being whored out, non-reader friends finally being overcome by guilt, widespread unemployment, tagging posts with things like “Kate Beckinsale Nude!!!!!”, etc).  Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong.

Nay, dear readers, the answer to this riddle is rooted in two articles which appeared on this site in January.  One was about Carson Daly, the other was about Jason Mraz, both were about the degree to which these gentlemen suck.  If you have not read these articles, allow me to summarize: they suck alot.  Well, as fate and the internet gods would have it, the message of these articles apparently resonated with the teeming masses of hateful Americans who prowl the World Wide Web and has sent them flocking in droves to The Talking Mirror.

How do I know this?  Each day, our stat sheet logs all the search engine terms that bring people to thetalkingmirror.com.  This allows us to see which tags are most effective and provides a window into the souls of our readers.  Some of the most popular searches include: kamma sutra, fetus humor, or some variation of “is my girlfriend crazy” (actual searches: am i a crazy girlfriend, how to break up with a crazy girlfriend, crazy girlfriend came after school, girlfriend went for a drive with ex, boyfriend talks on phone to ex, and the list goes on).  However, hands down the most common searches bringing people to The Talking Mirror are things relating to the life-draining awfulness of Carson Daly and Jason Mraz.

On any given day, up to a dozen people type in things like “Carson Daly is a toolshed”, “jason mraz huge douche,” “carson daly sucks”, and “carson daly sucks bad.”  The next most populer searches are various misspellings of Daly and Mraz followed by “douche.”

This trend is telling of two things: (1) These two gentlemen suck something awful, and (2) Americans have a surplus of pent up hostility when they are getting online.  Don’t get me wrong, I would like to drop-kick Mssrs. Daly and Mraz as much as the next decent American; I just think it takes a special kind of animosity to hate someone so much you take to the internet to discover new reasons to hate them.  And yet dozens, if not hundreds of web-surfers are pausing their daily searches for porn and pipe bomb ingredients to see who else out there shares their sentiments that Jason Mraz is a stain on humanity.

Come on America!  Surely we have better things to be doing – like, for example, declaring bankruptcy, lavishing praise on Slumdog Millionaire, or searching for pipe bomb ingredients.  Do we really need to spend entire afternoons fueling the fires  of Daly/Mraz disdain?  Surely we are more charitable nation than that.

Perhaps not.

That is all.  Nothing groundbreaking or earth-shattering.  It amused me, and I thought it might do the same for you.

p.s. Since I wrote that first paragraph ten days ago, we have amped up our marketing arm.  As of this afternoon, Talking Mirror facebook ads have appeared on over 1 million Facebook profiles.  When you consider that this picture is featured on the ad:

you can better understand my excitement about this number.  Eat it Facebook!  You can’t escape me!

Also, if you see the ad, please don’t click on it.  It costs me $0.60 every time you do.