A Blumes With A View


A blog that's more fun than at least two of the Lethal Weapons. But I won't say which ones...

If the Mayans were Right About 2012, We Should Really Be Embarrassed About These Ten Things:

By Andrew Blumetti

Friday, December 21, 2012.  Where will you be?  Perhaps running like all heck from shooting fireballs and not-so-nice locusts?  Getting a George Hamilton-worthy suntan from an exploding sun?  Maybe getting a “Tea Leone-in-Deep Impact" bodyslam from a skyscraping tidal wave?  (If you didn’t see that movie, don’t fret, I’m not spoiling it, I’m actually saving you from seeing it…)  Well, I can bet you I’ll be probably in a much, much worse place - fighting for a parking spot at an overcrowded mall shopping for last minute Christmas gifts I should’ve bought weeks earlier. 

Little Orphan Annie and her ginger ‘fro nailed it on the head: “the sun will come up tomorrow”.  In the wee chilly hours of December 22nd, you can bet your bottom dollar it most certainly will.  A few years ago, some screwball conspiracy theorists had a few too many Zimas, misinterpreted the Mayan calendar, and worked everyone into a whipped freakin’ frenzy.  I’m sure the intentions of the Mayan people was never to make us panic.  All they wanted to do was build tall archeological ruins, write some funky hieroglyphics, and live in a civilization so complicated, it’d fail us all in history classes for years to follow. 

BUT… I don’t gamble much, and ask anyone who’s seen my fantasy baseball the past couple years, I may just have crap intuition. 

And that brings us to where I’m going here.  Since the beginning of human life, when cavemen bonked mastodons on the head and hated car insurance companies, we’ve accomplished a heck of a lot- fire, the wheel, and a taco shell made of Doritos… that’s not a bad run for man. 

Well… it was a pretty good run.  Sadly, it’s just the truth- they can’t all be zingers.  We’ve had our fair share of duds as a human race.  I now present the following to you, the mankind equivalent of the bad haircut in a yearbook picture that we really have no excuse for:



You’ve seen this guy.*  Covered in muddy tattoo sleeves, pre-ripped jeans that cost more than the national income of Belize, and a scowling face worthy of a Dick Tracy villain.  He’s the bar meathead. (which sounds like a cool mix of the Meat Puppets and Radiohead, but no dice)  He travels in groups with his equally embarrassing gelled-up “bros”, and their job is to annoy every female with a pulse within a hundred foot radius.

When the Fonz used to bang on the jukebox and get all the ladies, we didn’t mind, cause he had charisma and was genuinely a cool cat.  Unfortunately times changed for the worse, and we’re now stuck with these ‘roided-up clowns.  And if a clown has his big shoes and giant red nose, then the meathead has his “Affliction” shirt.  These MMA-inspired, over-printed, over-skulled, over-priced, and eventually over-cologned uniform of the generic d-bag.  This beefed-up dude ain’t going home unless it’s with a tanked female on his arm or belligerent in the back of a police car.  Jersey Shore may have made have made this look en vogue, but it’s been going on for years.  The fact we all didn’t burn the Affliction factory to the ground years ago is really on us. 

* If you are this guy, kindly leave my blog now. 



There was an episode of the eighth season of Seinfeld entitled “The Muffin Tops”.  Mr. Lippman, Elaine’s former boss steals her idea of a restaurant which serves only the tops of muffins.  The restaurant initially flops due to the fact that he baked only the muffin tops, instead of the whole muffin, then separating the pieces.  Elaine explains that this shortcut is robbing the top of all its muffinish flavorful charm.   There’s just a certain order to food, and you can’t mess with it. 

It’s not that this was a bad idea, Smuckers is a successful company afterall, it’s just that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich works off the marriage of a “PB” side and a “J” side coming together.  All this tan and purple striped-jar does is just run out faster and save you a total of thirty seconds of slapping a butterknife on a piece of bread.  You know that saying, “you are what you eat”?  Well, this product is called “Goober”. 



Forget the Wet Bandits and that creepy basement, what really should’ve scared Macaulay Culkin was the oncoming storm of Hurricane Puberty.  When that swarm of bees took him out at the end of My Girl, it wasn’t just his character who died, it was Mac’s golden-haired ragamuffin cuteness.  (Sorry, I’m just spoiling movies left and right here…)  20th Century Fox dropped the ball by not filming the third Home Alone movie soon enough with the original cast, and then the once-great yuletide series was a more of a lost cause than Buzz’s metabolism.  

One would’ve though 1997’s theatrical Christmess, Home Alone 3, was enough to firmly pound that nail into the garland-adorned coffin, but low and behold, you can be sure there’s no shortage of overpaid knitwits in Hollywood.  Take one part the squinty guy from Third Rock From the Sun, make Kevin McCallister a shrimpy brunette, split up the parents and throw it straight to television- it’s no wonder Daniel Stern called the fourth film “an insult, total garbage”, before turning down a part in it.  

Now you’ve angered Mac.  After he comes down, he’ll fry you with your own doorknob. 



Football is a brutal sport.  For further proof, look no further than the recent Saints controversy surrounding a headhunting bounty against opposing quarterbacks.  Some teams thrive off this tough image as well.  The Raiders and their insane fans work off of the scary “black and silver” image, and the Seattle Seahawks pipe extra crowd noise in to overwhelm visiting teams.  Well, if the Raiders image screams out “terrifying pirates”, then the old Tampa Bay Buccaneers uniforms scream out “soothing dessert treat pirates”. 

Often referred to as the “creamsicle” uniforms, these late-70’s tangerine-colored disasters would be laughed at by even the LFL… or the XFL- (they were kinda wussy if I remember correctly).  My best guess is that these bright uniforms would be easily visible by Tampa’s nearsighted elderly community.  Twenty ice creamy years later, the heads of the Bucs decided these oRRRRRRRange (get it?) threads needed to walk the plank, and they redesigned the team’s whole look.  Thanks to the world of money grubbing team owners, we now get to occasionally relive these infamous threads via the throwback uniform.  So, this fashion faux pas was actually committed TWICE. 

Stop trying to convince me to change my mind!!



I'm going to assume that the demographic of readers that enjoy my blog aren't in grade school still, but if there's one thing I can tell the youth of America, it's this:

You never will use any of the math you learn after fifth grade for the rest of your life.  Ever. 

Here’s the beauty of it all.  If I anger any trigonometry nerds out there, there’s a good chance I’ll be able to beat them up.  Now, when we continue to learn about Science or English well into our teen years, we can take what we’ve learned and apply it to our lives in the future.  I mean, who’d want to go to a doctor who never retained anything from biology class?  And the libraries would be as unused as Joey Buttafuoco’s Soloflex if we didn’t have any authors around. 

Math though?  Unless you’re a scientist or gonna end up on Jeopardy!, you don’t need anything more than the basics.  Go to any store, and you’ll see on a daily basis, it’s basically all addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.  All the years we spent learning advanced geometry and algebra were just years we could’ve spent having food fights in the cafeteria.  

My lesson here to the kids, and I cannot stress this enough- Don’t hustle in high school math- your time will be better spent catching up on some much needed sleep.  



I'm sorry, I just spent a good two minutes laughing at that picture. 

Ok, where was I?  I mean, c’mon people, it’s not like we didn’t have a million warning signs on this one.  Look at the asymmetrical-eyebrowed butthead, he’s not living in Crazy Town, he’s living in Crappy Town  …and he’s the mayor  …and he owns every house there  …and he doesn’t mow his lawn  …and he looks like THAT.

Say what you will about Limp Bizkit, but at least they had a few hits under their sagging belts.  Crazy Town, the tattooed Caucasian wigga disaster was nü-metal’s one-hit-wonders, and the fact we allowed them to have that one hit is pretty inexcusable on our part.  We’ll never be totally cool with the butterflies after that, and FOR THE LOVE OF CRACKERS…  I just looked on Wikipedia, and they’re STILL a band!  I just got that unsettling feeling like when you watch the last scene of Se7en

Ahhh man, what’s in the box?!??!???



You know who probably sang in this song when they were kids?  Crazy Town. 

This was the annoying 1980’s jingle to a commercial for a New York-based charitable organization.  It’s a great cause, and I’m all for helping less-fortunate children, but geez cheese Louise, this stupid catchy song still haunts me in my dreams.  



The fact we can put a man on the moon and find another place to stuff cheese inside a pizza, but we cannot cure the mind-numbing torture that follows an ice cream binge is beyond me. 

When you eat something cold, the blood vessels in your mouth contract.  The nerves send a signal to the brain to expand the blood vessels to increase warmth to the brain, and the next thing you know, you’re holding your head and wincing like a big, cold stupid baby. 

If we do make it past December 21st of this year, I really think we should make a brain freeze foundation.  Instead of those orange UNICEF boxes, they should send kids around to collect money so I can eat a bomb pop without having to chug a bottle of tepid water.  To the medical community- let’s spend our time on things we can do something about.  I’m confident in our lifetime, I’m sure we can wipe out ice-cream headaches. 



The real irony here is that the Alanises in that video were driving away from a Ritalin factory.

In 1995, You Can’t Do That on Television star Alanis Morissette, came like a summer blizzard down from Canada, inserted a bunch of Canadian quarters into circulation, raged against Dave Coulier’s machine, and sold about a bajillion copies of her pop-angsty debut album, Jagged Little Pill.  One of the cornerstone singles from it was a little ditty entitled “Ironic”.  It’s essentially a song rattling off scenarios which A-Mor shows how life’s sense of humor can throw a cold dose of irony in your face when you least expect it. 

Basically the best thing about this song was it meant we didn’t have to hear “You Oughta Know” ad-nauseam anymore.  But Alanis, her producers, management, MTV, radio, fans, friends and foes should all really be ashamed that one of the year’s most successful singles is really incorrect on lots of levels and no one bothered to call her out on it. 

Nothing mentioned in the song is actually ironic, but really more just a bunch of crappy unfortunate situations.  Rain on your wedding day and a traffic jam when you’re already late just happen… on a daily basis… and they stink.  But ironic, they are not.  If you decided to get married underwater to avoid the sun or if you’re stuck in traffic on the way to a meeting to discuss how to cut down on traffic jams- those would be examples of sweet sweet irony.  The folly didn’t seem to bother anyone, and of course years later, no one would ever take notice, as Nickelback would just turn into Canada’s biggest shame. 



The year was 1993.  As a naive people, we weren’t prepared for the impact the Gin Blossoms would later have on our lives.  In the Northeast, we had just thawed out after a brutal winter, topped off by a St. Patrick’s Day blizzard.  Spring break came around and like a gift from the heavens above, a week off of school.  For a 13-year old ragamuffin like myself, what better way to spend all that money you made shoveling snow on a weekday afternoon?  Booyah!  Movies!

With one of my friends, we decided to hit up a matinee showing of the Burt Reynolds snoozer, Cop and a Half.  For anyone to voluntarily go see this means either A- you have no cinematic taste whatsoever, or B- you’ve seen every other movie out and exhausted all other possibilities.  Luckily for us, it was option B.  We pretended we were under 10, forked over our hard-earned moolah for child-priced tickets, and entered an empty theater. 

Here’s a little helpful advice to those of you who sit in an empty movie theater- don’t sit so far back that the brain surgeon projectionist can’t see you.  That’s why I can only say I saw the first two minutes of Cop and a Half, before they assumed no one was there, and shut it down.  I can’t help but think it was God’s way of punishing me for voluntarily paying to see that cornball dreck in the first place.  The kicker was that they couldn’t restart the film, so we got free passes and they offered us the opportunity to go see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III: Turtles in Time, for the THIRD time.  There’s only so many times you can watch Leonardo be a wet blanket in ancient Japan before it becomes too much.  

  1. popcornandgreenolives said: haha, i’ve thought the same thing about the alanis song! also: those affliction shirts have GOT to go.
  2. amberonfire said: THIS IS THE GREATEST.
  3. discoblood said: i agree with everything!
  4. aprilalayne said: CRAZY TOWN! Hahaha!! Christ.
  5. alittlebitridiculous reblogged this from 99redblumes and added:
    Oh. My. God. I’m dying
  6. swedechildofmine said: This is funny! But being from Belize (it’s spelled with a Z) that’s it!
  7. elaboratebeauty said: Amen to # 9 and the sentence about Nickelback. Haha.
  8. 99redblumes posted this