Buble, Big Ben and the Hit List

So I’m technically not unemployed anymore. Actually there’s nothing technical about it. I came out of retirement at the restaurant I worked at in college, Sghetti Eddie’s. It’s a fine establishment if you enjoy overpriced sandwiches and the occasional racially-charged yelling match going on in the kitchen. Ambiance! But I do, in fact, really enjoy working there. As I noted in a previous post, being a delivery driver kicks ass because you get to drive around blasting moment for half of your shift, make surprisingly good money, and can leave to “go get gas” whenever we get busy. However, the job does has its downsides as well, namely the 20 on 20 satellite radio station that plays all day. This means that allllll day, I hear the same songs over and over again. And lemme tell ya, there are some terrible songs on the radio right now.

First off, Hey Soul Sister. Every time that Train song comes on, it takes every thing I have not to dive face first onto the 600 degree grill in the kitchen. The worst part is that once you hear it, it’s locked into your head for the next 67 hours. I’ll find myself singing it under my breath “Haaaaayy soul sister, Ain’t that Mister Mister on the radiooo”. Then I catch myself and jam salad forks in my eardrums. So FUCK YOU, TRAIN. Your name is apt being that that’s exactly what I want to get hit by every time you come on.
However, that Train song sounds like goddamn Billie Jean compared to Haven’t Met You Yet by Michael Buble. I’m sure he’s an alright guy and everything, and I don’t want to overreact here, but I want to impale Buble’s vocal chords with an ice pick. That hellbeast fills me with a level of rage that I previously thought was reserved only for people that murdered my family. I want to write a song about Buble and Train getting in a fiery head-on car accident called I Pray for This Every Night. I’m deadly serious when I say that if Michael Buble walked into my restaurant tomorrow I would, without hesitation or warning, punch him in the face as hard as I can. LIGHTS OUT BUBLE.

This got me to thinking: there’s a lot of famous people out there who I want to punch in the face. Nothing personal, it just has to be done. So, here’s a couple more people who make me want to put my fist in their suckhole if given the opportunity. My intentions are to keep updating this list as more and more people land on my hitlist.

Chad Kroeger, Nickelback: I’m convinced that Nickelback’s Canadian frontman made a deal with the devil ten years ago (or perhaps he just is the devil) because his rise to stardom has been entirely inexplicable. That band is awful, Kroeger’s a dick, their music should only be played in Guantanamo and yet, somehow, they’re STILL POPULAR. WHO LIKES NICKELBACK? Terrorists No one! And yet, they’ve managed to sell 30 MILLION records over the last decade. Kroeger currently carries the torch for a long list of terrible rock frontmen who need to get punched in the face. In fact, I think it could be a Lost-ian  Man in Black scenario, where the devil just took over Chad Kroeger’s body after he previously inhabited Scott Stapp, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Axl Rose and whoever the lead singer of Devo was.

DJ Khaled: All this mysteriously-raced “DJ” does is get a bunch of far-more-talented artists to come together and make a song while he stands in the background and screams WE THE BEST in his bizarrely shrill and high-pitched voice. Yet somehow, it’s his name on the record. INJUSTICE. By what principals does this man act?! If he was around in 1985, “We Are the World” would have somehow been credited to DJ Khaled. So get fucked DJ Khaled. YOU DO NOTHING. (Also, this serves as an official warning to you, Timbaland. I know you’re reading this, and you are dangerously close to entering the DJ Khaled Zone.)

Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje aka Mr. Eko: Perhaps the greatest character in the entire Lost series, Mr. Eko was a hulking, quasi-Nigerian priest with an honorary doctorate in drug-running and ass-kicking. According to Lost producers, the writers had big plans for Mr. Eko, that is, until Mr. Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Triple A for short) told them to write him off the show so he could go back to London to presumably drink Earl Grey and call people wankers. Triple A supposedly hated Hawaii (WHAT?) and felt he was misled into thinking his character would be far more peaceful and intellectual. HEY ASSHOLE, YOUR CHARACTER IS A SIX-EIGHT NIGERIAN WARLORD STRANDED ON AN ISLAND WHERE EVEN THE NEUROSURGEON CARRIES A GUN, WHAT. THE FUCK. DID YOU EXPECT.

Ben Roethlisberger: I’ve been uncharacteristically silent on the topic of Big Ben thus far and I think it’s time to clear the air. This mouth-breathing, ass-pinching, illiterate douche-cannon needs to be shot in the dick with a bean-bag cannon. Now, I’ve been saying that Ben was a rapist for years now, so I think I deserve some credit for this story, however, he took his creep status to a whole new level this offseason. First of all, what are you doing in Milledgeville, Georgia EVER, Ben?? What, was Pittsburgh not a shitty enough college-town for you? You had to find the ONE place with less joy, promise and general hope? Then, YOU- the superstar quarterback with two Super Bowl rings- find the ONE GIRL in town who doesn’t want to have sex with you, and pull her into a bathroom. I have no idea what happened in there, but I’d imagine it resembled the post-prison sex scene with Denzel and Milla Jovavich in He Got Game. In the ensuing weeks after the incident, dozens of stories emerged from Pittsburgh and Milledgeville that paint Big Ben as what can only be described as an entitled dickhead. And honestly, I just want to use this opportunity to thank Ben, thank him for showing everyone else what I have known for so long. Seriously, short of drawing an obscene cartoon featuring Mohammed, you couldn’t have pissed more people off so quickly. So, if I see Ben tomorrow on the street, I’ll be sure to express my gratitude to him…just before I give him a swift judo chop to the orbital bone.


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