When Busey Closes A Door, He Opens a Window and Turns on a Ceiling Fan

Squeeple,

I have started my own blog, cleverly titled Angry Black Lady Chronicles.  You can find it here.  I encourage you all to come hang out over there.  One of the most amazing things about serving as co-editor of this blog with Lily the Pink over the last eleven months was creating this community.  A bunch of strangers suddenly found themselves turning to one another for support.  Some of you are even friends in “real life” now.  I find that amazing and inspiring.   So, thank you for being part of this.  I appreciate it so very much.  I also want to thank Lily, especially, for all that she taught me about this blog business.  It is because of her tutelage over the last year that I was able to build my own blog in a matter of days.

My blog is going to be much of the same as that which you saw here on Thundersquee!  Despite the name, it’s not a blog just for black people (although several of you are having your membership considered by the committee…you know who you are) and it won’t be a blog where I solely rant about “black” subjects (whatever the hell that means.)  Besides,  if you didn’t know by now, my mom is as white and Jewwy as they come.

My blog will be for people who like funny, people who like snark, people who like vitriol, and people who like to read whatever spews forth from my crazy mind.  I will say what I want and will give you the opportunity to say what you want (and I hope you take me up on it.)  Hell, I won’t even mind if you go all Harry Reid and throw around the term “Negro” in the comments section.

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Amy Poehler-bale

A Christmas Bale

It’s a Wonderful Bale

Bale Classic

Rigby aka Oilybohedgehog7

The coolest, hippest, couple in Hollywood is done-zo

Oh no, y’all!  Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon, the coolest hippy couple since Cheech and Chong have split up!  Waaaah.  Well, I guess the fact that they never married means they don’t have to go through some nasty public divorce proceedings.  Silver lining?

Apparently they’ve been split up since the summer.

“Actress Susan Sarandon and her partner of 23 years, actor Tim Robbins have announced that they separated over the summer,” her rep Teal Cannaday tells PEOPLE in a statement. “No further comments will be made.”

Aw, maaaaaan!  ::stomps foot::  I really liked them.  I like their politics.  I like the fact that they never married.  I don’t know why I like that fact.  It just seemed cool to me.  Like “we don’t need no stinkin’ marriage.  We’re in love.  And we’re together.”  Plus she was 12 years older than him.  When does that ever happen?  (And she looks great… I don’t even need to qualify that with a “for her age.”  She looks great.  Full stop.)  They have two kids together.  And they just kicked ass, in my view.  And now after 23 years, they just quietly walked away.

Aw, nuts.

In the made-up words of Friedrich Nietzsche: LOVE IS DEAD.

Linky-loos you can use.

You know, I hope when I’m older and my bits are a bit jiggly, that I have the vaginal fortitude to slap on a bikini, get out in the middle of a group of young twenty-somethings, and shake my groove thang.  I’d say “you go girl!” but that is sooooo nineties.  Break.com.

People are idiots.  And then they breed.  Agent Bedhead.

For those of you squeepersons who joined us after our dear Janet had to peace out to grad school (somewhere in CANADIA, no less!), I suggest you take a gander at our “GOOPing” category.  It’s comedy gold.  Apparently, Gwyneth Paltrow may have broken the law with her latest episode of GOOP.  Also, she continues to suck.  Celebitchy.

The 15 Best Albums of The Aughts as brought to you by the Pajiba commenters.  Arcade Fire, Funeral is number one.  As well it damn well should be.   I’m so going to be following this thread if only to watch the epic flame war that will undoubtedly erupt.  (Oh, and apparently black people didn’t do anything worth listening to in the aughts, so… you know… there’s that.)   Pajiba.

Ease up on the make up, Adam Lambert.  You’re starting to look like Dr. Frank-N-Furter.  Socialite Life.

What the biscuits?

Well, we all knew it was coming.  It’s the celebrity way.  Call someone a faggot, or a nigger, or a sugartits (so sweet and tasty!), and just go to rehab!  That’s how celebrities get it done:

In a last-ditch effort to save his marriage, a shell-shocked Tiger Woods will check into rehab to seek treatment for his sexual compulsions and prescription drug use, insiders have told The Enquirer exclusively. The disgraced golfing great agreed to get help at an Arizona clinic after spending the Christmas holiday with his family, say sources. The serial cheater’s decision to get therapy is part of a deal struck with his stunning wife Elin to persuade her not to dump him.

“Elin gave Tiger an ultimatum — seek treatment or forget all about winning her back,” revealed an insider. “Rehab is at the top of the list of things he must do. Tiger will be going into rehab in early January to treat his sexual compulsion and his use of the drugs Ambien and Vicodin.”

First of all, ambien?

Second of all, ambien?  REALLY?

Finally, I’ve never understood the obsession with forcing people to go to rehab just for acting like an asshole.  Are they going to some sort of Asshole Ashram?  Are they sitting in the lotus position while chanting ohm mani padme so sorry for being an asshole?  Seriously, y’all.  Where is this Asshole Retreat?  I know a couple people who should go there.  Hell, I ought to go there every once in a while.

Cripes.

Tiger has really stepped in it, hasn’t he?  He was this goody two shoes-lookin’ fool and now I look at him and all I think is strippers, and whores, and golf, oh my!   And really, when was the last time you thought “golf” and immediately thought “whores”?

Never?

That’s what I thought.

This duck must be stopped.

(Thanks to Lily for the tip!)

The Princess and the Bale

Linky-loos you can use.

I’m underwater, squeeple.  Can’t breathe.  Lots of work to do before I hit the road for the holidays, and not one nondenominational holiday gift have I purchased.  (Christmakwanzakkuh, anyone?)  If it seems like a ghost town ’round these parts, it’s because most of us are either under 100 feet of snow, or are visiting family without computer access  (is it me, or does everyone over the age of 55 have dial-up, or, as is the case with my parents, still think that you’re a little kid who will break the computer if  they dare allow you to use it even though, you know, like, you’re totes a Blogger now (with a capital “B”) and they wouldn’t know Facebook from Myspace if it tweeted them in the face?)

But… I digress.

I had to share this one teensy tinsy thing.  It sums up my feelings about the Senate health care bill.  Borowitz Report.

Oh and this too, because seriously?  How dumb are you?  Lamebook.

Oh crap, and this one too, because seriously?  How obsessed with Twilight are you?  Regretsy.

Happy Holidays, squeeple.  It’ll be a light week this week, but that doesn’t mean we have forgotten about you, our comrades in squee.  Just remember: Be kind to one another, drown yourselves in egg nog, resolve to break your New Year’s resolutions by no later than January 3, and squeep on squeepin’ on.

(Thanks to Lakshmi for the Borowitz Report tip!)

Checkmate.

Lando Bale-rissian

Barba-bale-a

Doosh Thunderdome: It’s votin’ time.

So, whaddya reckon?

Rush Limbaugh?

I'm a doosh with a cigar!

Megan Fox?

I'm a doosh with a stupid tattoo!

Sarah Palin?

I'm a four-eyed doosh!

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This is the church, this is the steeple, open the door and see all the squeeple.

Megan Fox: Doosh Dossier

This year has visited a groundswell of doosh upon the hapless heads of Hags and Squeeple alike. A torrential outpouring of vinegar so vast in scope and relentless in attack that it can relate to only this: the countless acts of dooshery, douchestacity, and douchebagelry with which we, in the People’s Republic of Thundersquee!, have been forced to reckon. It ain’t pretty people. We’ve had Kanye Interruptus; Carrie Preach-jean; Jon “Ed Hardy” Gosselin; Rush Oxylimbaugh; Glenn Crazy Eyes Beck; and the list goes on.

Here’s how it will work. For the next couple of weeks, we will recount some of the dooshes catalogued in our year-long category aptly titled “Doosh Watch 2009.” We will then pit the dooshes against each other in the Thunderdome. And you, dear squeeperson, will vote for your least favorite doosh, or-if you prefer a phrase more semantically accurate-the dooshiest doosh as between the dooshes.

Put on your protective goggles, squeeples. You do NOT want to look any of these dooshes in the eye.

So here’s what you do: Assess the dooshery based on our prior blog posts throughout the year and any independent knowledge you may have of a particular doosh’s dooshiness. And then vote! It’s as easy as saying… something that’s easy to say.

We will provide a doosh dossier on each of three Doosh of the Year Nominees throughout the day. Then at the end of the day (8 p.m. PST-ish) that day, we will open the polls for voting. You vote for the dooshiest of the three. And at the end of the doosh round robin, we will pit our final three nominees against each other and award a Giant Bag of Doosh to our Douche of 2009. Stay classy, squeeple!

First up are Rush Limbaugh, Sarah Palin, and Megan Fox or as we at Thundersquee! like to call them, the Pig, the Lipstick, and the Pig in Lipstick.

Megan Fox

How dooshy is Megan Fox?  So dooshy that our own KeeblerKahn has been grappling with her for months. But she kept fighting back.  She floats like a butterfly, stings like a doosh.  Frustrated, Keebler even declared A Day Without Megan Fox, earlier this summer.  Megan Fox was unmoved; even that didn’t stop her.

Later that summer, we thought maybe she would undermine us by dressing real classy-like.   Maybe she’ll de-dooshify.  We all crossed our fingers.

We were, of course, fucking idiots.  in spec-doosh-ular fashion, she turned down the opportunity to star with Daniel Craig in a Bond movie.

Then she stupidly informed us she might be schizo (doing a great disservice to those who actually ARE schizo).

And then she railed against Michael Bay, the one dude who saw through the doosh and helped make her a star (even if, as Lily the Pink noted,  Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen was a bowl of stupid.)

Finally in a spectacular nuclear holocaust of doosh, she went and did an interview with Rolling Stone during which her cup of doosh ranneth over.

Keebler wants her to STFU.

Stopthemadness wants to punch her in the vagina.  (Oh and there’s the faux appearance anxiety and the “ZOMG!, am I ugly?” bullshit.)

Lisa(#1), after pointing out her diarrhea of the mouth earlier this year, adds these doosh points:

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