The Oscar® Awards Have a Way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A

Jon: Well, it's over. The winner of Jonathan Yu's Stupid Little Oscar® Game 4 is…not gonna be announced right now. First, I'd like to thank everybody who played for making this year's SLOG the most successful one ever, with a record turnout of 36 contestants.
Rory: Stella Zubeck, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Jon: Hehe. Stella was the only person to not pick Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon for best foreign film. I should be surprised, but then I remember she goes to Cal, so everything makes sense.
Rory: Stupid fuckin' hippie!
Jon: Now, now, Rory. Don't make fun of our contestants. They're good people, except for Rory Brown.
Rory: Rory! That's my name!
Jon: Yes, Hornblower, I know. Moving on, what did you think of the Oscar® show?
Rory: I really liked the Britney Spears performance.
Jon: That was a Pepsi® commercial, dumbass.
Rory: Buh-buh-buh-buh-buh, buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh-buh, the joy of Pepsi…
Jon: [slaps Rory] Seriously, what did you think of the show?
Rory: Too many chinks, not enough Britney!
Jon: Right…
Rory: And what the fuck is up with all these movies about Jews winning best documentary every year?
Jon: Rory, are you drunk?
Rory: Seig Heil! Seig Heil!
Jon: Uhhh, while my partner is temporarily inebriated, I'm gonna talk. I thought the show was good. Steve Martin was funny. Yo-Yo Ma was the shit. I must say though that this whole 2001: A Space Odyssey thing is not particularly amusing anymore.
Rory: No more Jews! Just big boobs!
Jon: Excuse me a second. [to Rory] SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU BRITISH CACK! [pause] So now then. Thank God I "graduated" with the class of 2000, because I wouldn't be able stand hearing people constantly tying my year to that stupid movie.
Rory: Come my lady. Come, come my lady. Be my buuuuu…
Jon: And why does Russell Crowe always reference Jamie Bell in public? It's like they're lov-
Rory: SUGAR!
Jon: Okay, that's it. [gets up and kicks Rory in the nuts repeatedly] Now, where was I? Oh yeah. It's like they're gay lovers or something. So that's why he left Meg Ryan…
Rory: I…la…I…I…lo…I love you, man!
Jon: I love myself too. Which reminds me – I appreciate Derek, Josh, and Martin for sucking up to me in their acceptance speeches, but look, I already have the ego of a saxophone player. It can't possibly get any bigger. Thanks anyway.
Rory: Am I not merciful?! AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!
Jon: You cocksucker! [sigh] Let's wrap it up. Thank you again to everybody who played. Please come back next year, when I know most of you will be broke college students in dire need of money (hehe). Until then, you can play Jonathan Yu's Stupid Little Oscar® Game 4 Acceptance Speech Fun or just visit my website frequently to read it for the articles. And the winner is…


First rule of being a Stanford fan: you do not talk about how much they SUCK. Apparently, the Cardinal rule says that Stanford teams go far in NCAA play and then choke on a ham sandwich. It happened at the Rose Bowl in 2000 and it happened again today against Maryland. Mike "I'd like to buy a vowel" Krzyzewski, go back to hell. And take that 2001 NCAA men's basketball title with you.

Okay, my attempt to start a feud with Rory Brown was pathetic. Look, I'm currently in the market for a rival, somebody I can playfully fight with. If you're interested (and your name is not Hugh Riddell), e-mail me at

Drugs are bad. This is even worse.

Say It Isn't So

Jonathan Yu's 20th movie of the year

A young bachelor (Chris Klein) finds the love of his life (Heather Graham) but mistakenly believes her to be his sister. The Farrelly brothers are back with this piece of shit movie that's even worse than last year's Me, Myself And Irene. What might have worked as a short SNL sketch is instead dragged out and littered with unnecessary crude humor (including yet another gag involving a cow) and genuine laughs that are few and far between. If what passes for comedy these days is a running joke about the name of Beaver, Oregon, then I must be the funniest fuck alive. • C


Jonathan Yu's 27th and 31st movie of the year

A mother (Sigourney Weaver) and daughter (Jennifer Love Hewitt) con team seduce and scam wealthy men. Director David Mirkin is a funny guy. He works on The Simpsons. Why, then, are his movies so unsatisfying? Like Romy And Michelle's High School Reunion, Mirkin's previous effort, Heartbreakers can be really funny at times, but it can also be downright cheesy, especially when it focuses on the relationship between bad girl Hewitt (oh, those short dresses!) and good boy Jason Lee. If anything, see the movie for its supporting actors. I mean, Gene Hackman's character is probably the latest reason to quit smoking and Ray Liotta is more amusing here than he was in Hannibal. Yes, Heartbreakers was better than I expected. However, it could have been a whole lot better. • B-

Smack My Bitch Up

Spring break is here. Excellent

Rory Brown, I want your ass. You…me…backyard wrestling…two out of three falls. Bring it on.

For those of you who know who John Leitch is, doesn't he so not look like a trumpet player in that FedEx commercial?

Whoever did this needs to get a girlfriend.

If Britney Spears' mouth ever lands on my dick, one free taco for every American. I promise.

It's official – the WWF bought the WCW. You know what that means? Rory…Jon…Wrestlemania.

NCAA Basketcase

There are some things money can't buy. An elite eight berth is not one of them. Congratulations, U$¢. Now it's your turn to play Duke. [laugh]

If fouls were little boys, then the UCLA men's basketball team would be NAMBLA superstars.

Matt Barnes is a bad ass…with the voice of a sissy.

Shane Battier looks like a botched chemo job, kinda like The Edge from U2.

Boozer. What a name.

Mike Dunleavy, do something about your hair. Take a cue from Casey Jacobsen and at least try to experiment with that cracker ass hair.

What can I say? Stanford's still alive. Onward to Minneapolis.

All Your Base Are Belong to Me

Note to self: don't mix Red Bull and No-Doz. Not only will you not fall asleep, but worse, you'll feel really really good.

I got this e-mail from my old English teacher today: "Did the LAHS Dive group share with you how they plan to use your article from the Oracle? Their presentation is this Thursday in our band room at 10:30. Want to come as my guest?" I know, I know. I need to grow up.

What the fuck is this?

Finals suck. It really pisses me off when I see people younger than me on MTV Cribs showing me how they live like a rock star while I sit here in my room reading and writing papers, knowing right and well that I could easily be a member of S Club 7.

Tomorrow is Thursday, and you know what that means? College basketball. I'm hedging my bets on the Pac-10 – Stanford over Cincinnati, UCLA over Duke, USC…well…fuck USC. Go lose to those hicks from Kentucky.

Get your recipe for disaster here.

This is so pathetic, it doesn't deserve to be an icon of American culture.

Who does number two work for? Me.

This way to marshmallow fun.

Click here to find out what Rory (Hornblower) wants for his birthday.

Better Than Underage Thinking

I had never seen anybody actually say grace before they ate until I came down to southern California. Now I see it every day at every meal – groups of people clasping their hands and bowing their heads to thank God for crappy dorm food. I'm not one to talk smack about Christianity, or write a book review of The Bible for that matter, but these grace-sayers scare the fuck out of me. Especially the Asian ones. Asians and Christianity go together like justice and the Puff Daddy trial. Don't believe me? Click here.

Another bad habit of southern Californians is that they have no concept of recycling. They throw away paper and soda bottles but don't throw me their girlfriends so I can fuck 'em too. Go figure.

Wrestlemania X-Seven is coming! I am too at the thought of Wrestlemania X-Seven!

According to Elvin Lee, I'm cool. Why, then, is Julia Stiles on the cover of the latest Rolling Stone?

It's finals week, and what am I doing? Watching college basketball. It's like ecstasy – I just can't get enough. You know, I pissed my pants over Stanford's near loss to St. Joseph's the other day, but I have faith in my boys. All of you who think Duke is gonna win the NCAA title have your heads up your asses. I'm not giving up on the Cardinal until they lose. Pac-10 be representin' in the Sweet 16!

Enemy At The Gates

Jonathan Yu's 24th movie of the year

At the Battle for Stalingrad, a young Russian sharpshooter (Jude Law) becomes a national hero when a Soviet political officer (Joseph Fiennes) realizes his propaganda value. His fame soon thrusts him into a duel with the Nazi's best sharpshooter (Ed Harris). Never has the Russian language sounded so…English. If you can get over the blatant bastardization of eastern European vernacular, however, then this Soviet spin on Saving Private Ryan (it even looks like the Spielberg movie) makes for one helluva history lesson. Director Jean-Jacques Annaud's very un-Hollywood production eschews the excessive gore characteristic of American war movies in favor of the proselytization of "humanity," but in doing so it succumbs to an unbelievably anticlimactic ending. Still, two-and-a-half-hours of gawking at Jude Law and that chick from The Mummy ain't half bad. • B-

Hungover Population

Why don't they have holes in underwear for your ass? Why don't they make boxer shorts with a flyhole for your ass so you don't have to drop trou to take a shit?

When I buy a house, the first thing I'm gonna do is install a trough in every bathroom. I'm sick and tired of having to aim, especially in the dark with the fuckin' seat down.

I went to see the UCLA jazz ensembles on Tuesday. I've been hooked on jazz music ever since I saw that Ken Burns documentary on PBS. That guy can get me off on any subject. First the Civil War, then baseball, and now jazz. Burns should do his next documentary on Britney Spears.

Apparently, there was a bomb scare and are rumors of a school shooting going around at my former high school. C'mon, people. We've raped the whole school shooting angle for all it's worth. Let's go back to the happier days of super soakers and handball. You know, England banned guns. And what is the leading killer of English children? Ballet (pronounced "bah-lay").

That was the UK. This is the UK on drugs.

For those of you who were offended by my Thanksgiving Special header, don't click here.

Do You Think I've Gone Too Far?

I am pissed off at the gay community. Why did they have to make the rainbow one of their symbols? Now, every time it stops raining, I can't help but think about anal sex, not that there's anything inherently wrong with anal sex. I like thinking about anal sex, just not every fuckin' day. I mean, why couldn't homosexuals have chosen a symbol that I don't have to look at on a regular basis…like my mother's vagina? Here's to the new symbol of the gay community: my mother's cunt!

Well, seeing as how I'm already going to hell for the latter paragraph, I might as well take some time to address the college-bound high school seniors of the class of 2001:


Thank you.

Who says white guys can't dance? Getcha groove on here and here.

Oh, man. This is so sad.

Get Over It

Jonathan Yu's 25th movie of the year

Allison (Melissa Sagemiller) breaks up with boyfriend Berke (Ben Foster), and suddenly his best friend's younger sister (Kirsten Dunst) doesn't seem so young anymore. I was at this movie's premiere and boy, is Sisqó short. Anyway, despite being utterly predictable, Get Over It is actually quite entertaining for a teen movie. The incredibly good-looking cast plays it smart amidst a story revolving around a high school rock 'n' roll production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, gleefully spoofing TRL culture and school musicals, thanks in large part to the creative recordwork of Marc Shaiman, who also co-machinated the South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut soundtrack. Besides, any movie that can make me laugh at Martin Short deserves major SWASS points. • B

15 Minutes

Jonathan Yu's 18th movie of the year

A famous homicide detective (Robert DeNiro) and a fire marshal (Edward Burns) team up to solve a serial killer case. 15 minutes shorter is what this movie should have been. Falling prey to the same bad habit that The Mexican had of overemphasizing the theme of the movie – in this case, fame (duh) – 15 Minutes just doesn't know where to end in its crusade to tell people that "fame is bad." Part slasher, part satire, with the satire part relatively more entertaining, 15 Minutes is nothing more than Se7en with less original social commentary…and Czechs. Yeah, America likes to watch. Just not this movie. • C-

The Mexican

Jonathan Yu's 22nd movie of the year

A man (Brad Pitt) tries to transport an ancient gun called The Mexican, believed to carry a curse, back across the border, while his girlfriend (Julia Roberts) pressures him to give up his criminal ways. The Mexican is all over the place: a romantic-black-comedy-action-fantasy that plays out like the retarded spawn of the Mexico story in Traffic and Dude, Where's My Car?. Who wrote this movie? The kid at the Taco Bell who's always stoned? Nothing makes sense. Oh, and it's also way too long and banal in all respects, from the recurring "metaphors" of everlasting love to the painful role James Gandolfini is forced to work with. Brad, stick to fighting. Julia, get some implants and go sue PG&E. • C

Earth Calling: "Pilot to Co-Pilot"

Yummy down on this: would you rather choke on a hot dog or drown in mayonnaise?

It's Eating Disorder Awareness Week here at UCLA. Look, if you have an eating disorder and you aren't aware of it, a theme week is not gonna help. Go eat an orange.

I was at a Carl's Jr. and I ordered a large soda. The lady behind the counter asks, "Would you like that for here or to go?" Dumbass.

The other day, I saw a guy put parmesan cheese on his cheese pizza. All hail extra cheese. What is a life without cheese? Longer.

I just don't see the appeal of excess servings – super size "extra value" meals, chocolate chocolate chip ice cream – you know what I'm talking about. I remember watching a Wendy's commercial where this Hercules-type male proves himself to the gods by eating a three-patty sandwich. Three fucking patties! Mmmm…atherosclerosis.

Burger King recently introduced "El Grande," a sandwich that consists of both a hamburger patty and a chicken breast patty. Hell, I'm not even Jewish and that sounds sick.

By now, if you haven't seen the Jackass clip of former clown Steve O regurgitating a goldfish, you're missing out and/or probably a Republican. It's amazing. Can the Dave Matthews Band throw up aquarium life? I think not.

In Other News

Cancerous penis replaced with finger

Students rally against porn

Dirty-talking Toy Story dolls investigated

Mob hacks Guatemalan judge to death

Man accidentally saws penis into six pieces

Man 'threatened to shoot girlfriend with potatoes'

Father severs penis with saw after bet goes wrong

Sex-starved moose defecates on car

The Decline of Western Civilization

"a series devoted to icons of american culture"

Till now, a bathtub full of gelatinous cherry goodness required both patience and hella Jell-O. Enter JellyBath: Just add hot water and transform an ordinary bathtub into a womblike experience, placenta and all. Offering the unique opportunity to reenact Keanu's goopy "rebirth" scene from The Matrix as often as you wish.

Sue Ismiel was desperate to find a product that would remove, as painlessly as possible, the thick dark hair covering the arms and legs of her six-year-old daughter Natalie. Sue says she could see "in Natalie's eyes" how much the excess body hair distressed the pretty girl. Determined to find something that was both safe and effective, the former medical records officer headed for the kitchen cupboard and began blending various natural potions. She started with basic ingredients like sugar and molasses and ended up with Nad's – a completely natural, water-soluble product that looks like green toffee and can be used anywhere on the body. Unlike other waxes and gels, Nad's does not need to be heated. You just smooth on the gel and remove it with linen strips.

Buggy Balls
This has to be the funniest novelty item you can attach to a vehicle yet! It looks like a big set of testicles dangling from the back of your car or truck! They're flesh colored, over 8" long, 5" wide, and weigh almost a pound! Attach them using a hinge so they swing back and forth when you stop or go. Great reactions from people driving behind you, or when parked in a parking lot!