Bloggasm

Because of statements like this one:

A few days ago, a reader took umbrage with my (ironic) characterization of the men of Jackass and suggested that I seemed “like one of those kids who always got picked last in gym class.” To the author of that insightful comment, I say this: Do you think you’re the first plebeian douchebag to suggest that a movie critic was picked last in PE? Do you even think you’re the first to suggest as much to me? Where did you pick up that insult — some two-bit refrigerator-repair school where everyone recycles 1950s putdowns? Are you kidding me? If you’re going to hurl insults, at least have a little panache, a touch of invective. And really, who the hell cares where I was picked in gym class, and what does it have to do with Jackass? For the record, I was picked in the middle of the pack, between the jocks and the special-ed kids, who at least had a genetic excuse for their mild retardation. But I’m happy for you, sir, that you were the type of guy who got picked first in ninth-grade volleyball. Do you put that on your résumé now? Is that how you got your job in the stockroom at Circuit City? Is your gym-placement tattooed on your arm, somewhere underneath your short-sleeved dress shirt, so you don’t forget it? Were you also the star pupil of your shop class, because that might get you a job in woodworking, which is at least unionized, you insipid prat. So far as I can tell, the selection process in junior-high gym class is not particularly determinative of one’s success in life and, besides, it seems wholly beside the point when we’re talking about a film in which one of the leads has a dildo launched into his anus.