one of these days, i’m going to do an “updates i am most proud of” listicle in order to crank out an update without having to do NEW work: it’s going to be a cheap clip show of a move, but it’ll also probably be dominated by the really random updates that have come out of nowhere: as a teaser, i would probably throw Frank Vincent: possibly a vampire?, here’s a gem, here’s a dragon, now the dragon’s dead, now your iron deficiency’s cured, OKAY, and kanye west’s best production, volume two: now with 100% more over-the-top emotion on the list, for various reasons, all of them crazy.
and that brings us to today’s update: the one about the time where i read a Rosie O’Donnell blog post (for some reason) about her helping an enormous woman and then having a heart attack (you may be finding large portions of this unsurprising) and then just started riffing and be-bopping and scatting (not to mention losing it) all over it. let us begin!
is this Rosie O’Donnell, celebrity comedienne, or “an enormous woman struggling to get out of her car?” YOU DECIDE
now, let me be fair: i don’t mean that in the most mean-spirited way possible, even though, to be perfectly frank, when i think back upon all the kindness that i have attempted, i recall always being punished for them. anyway, anyway, let’s focus: what i’m saying is that if Rosie O’Donnell WAS going to die and/or suffer an ailment, doesn’t “heart attack” seem pretty likely? there you. now., the thing is, to get into this, we have to suffer through the ABSURD way she writes on her blog. and really, who writes on a fucking blog anymore? compose yourself dear readers/reader/absent space representative only of my enduring disappointment in humanity, here we go:
“my heart attack
August 20, 2012
its a semi-sunny monday
the light bouncing off the flat hudson
mish is sitting next to me
i am happy to be alive”
COMPOSE YOURSELVES! WE CAN MAKE IT THROUGH THIS IF EVERYONE WILL FUCKING FOCUS AND NO ONE PANICS.
(also, if it makes this work better, picture me as General Woundwort screaming to come back, you fools, dogs aren’t dangerous, come back and fight!)
“last week i had a heart attack
here is what happened
on tuesday morning
while walking in a parking lot in nyack”
so far there’s absolutely nothing surprising about this, but let’s be honest, i’ve driving this “Rosie O’Donnell is heavy and thus prone to be victimized by a heart attack” thing into the ground already, and we’ve barely gotten started. CONTINUING.
“i heard a loud commanding voice
“can u help me”
more of a demand than request
a challenge – a plea”
we’re all over the map on this one, Rosie. i SUPPOSE we’re trying to convey the mixture of the ‘demand’ and the ‘plea’ at the same time, and in absolute fairness, “can you help me” reads as thoroughly plaintive, but could obviously sound a little different. but look, i can only work with what she gives me and i find it ridiculous to try and smash together that plea with that description. i just won’t do it!
“i turned and saw an enormous woman
struggling to get out of her car”
i am absolutely TORN here between a) pointing out the unmitigated gall of Rosie O’Donnell to call any other woman enormous, b) acknowledging that given Rosie’s size, this may be a fair description of a truly titan-sized woman struggling to get out of a car, and c) making the easy joke about this part of the story being a misunderstanding where Rosie caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror of some sort. the last is the most childish, and so it’s what i would normally prefer.
in fact, we could use it to go into a whole fictionalized scenario where Rosie sees this “enormous woman” is ALSO eating a giant ham sandwich, and even though she herself is eating her own giant ham sandwich, she insists on attempting to also have the giant ham sandwich belonging to the “enormous woman,” causing both sandwiches to be lost forever in the water somehow. and see, even though i was being very childish, we have all learned a valuable lesson not borrowed from Aesop at all!
“she was stuck”
this… this is a thing that happens to enormous people and it’s always shamefully funny. and that’s a sincere acknowledgment that i will ALWAYS feel guilty about laughing at an enormous person stuck somewhere (say, in their car) and i will still always fail to not laugh about it. to quote Malice back when he was Malice and not this current No Malice situation, that’s how i, janklow, know that i ain’t shit. i’ve never sold drugs in Virginia, so i have to find my own situations to apply his lyrics to, you see.
“”can u help me? she asked again
as i walked toward her
“oh u r rosie odonnell”
yes i am”
i suppose one of the nice things about being as distinctive a celebrity as Rosie O’Donnell is that you never, NEVER get mistaken for another celebrity and have that awkward moment where you’re trying to explain who you actually are: you’re a little offended that you’ve been mistaken for someone else, possibly more so if that celebrity is worse at what they do than you are; you don’t want to come off as egotistical by pointing out and inadvertently praising your own work, yet have no better way to clarify your identity; and you’re forced to explain something to someone whose existence is SO close to meaningless and thus waste your precious time. it’s just a mess all around!
…and to be frank, that’s not heavy sarcasm, i am actually arguing that the average dude’s life is essentially meaningless compared to even low-grade flash-in-the-pan C-list celebrities. let me use myself as an example: i’ve certainly done little things that were good or meaningful or constructive in my small scale way, or at least, i’d like to think i have. and soon, i will die and no one will give a shit about me or anything i have ever done. EVER. meanwhile, Rebecca Black will always have a slight footnote somewhere for all that “Friday.” i’m not bitter; this is how it goes.
“the ghost of christmas future
me – if i did not wake
there r no accidents i thought
as i braced myself and lifted her”
i just have no idea what’s supposed to be going on here up until the part about her bracing herself and SUPPOSEDLY lifting this enormous woman. maybe it’s late and i’m tired; maybe i’m being deliberately obtuse: either way, i don’t understand this nonsense at all.
“it was not easy
but together we did it
she was up and on her way
oh, so we go from Rosie lifting this enormous woman to teamwork? i sense some flaws in this narrative. picture my reaction to this remark in the following manner: it’s Sopranos season two, episode thirteen, “Funhouse.” we’re on the ‘new boat,” in this scenario, i’m Tony and Rosie is Big Pussy (this where i digress and scream “DON’T LAUGH” in your face in the manner of Jack Nicholson in the Departed; we’re not really going for that joke); Rosie’s “lifting this enormous woman” story is Big Pussy’s “giving this hot Puerto Rican girl cunnilingus” story. we all laugh along, supposed good times… and then i turn cold. “this enormous woman, Rosie … did she even fucking exist?”
ah… such an unnecessary level of unoriginal imagery!
“a few hours later my body hurt
i had an ache in my chest
both my arms were sore
everything felt bruised”
to be honest, i bet i would feel that way myself if i helped an enormous woman get unstuck from a car, and i’m not even a 50-year-old comedienne in poor physical shape. so nothing about this really seems odd, you know?
“muscular – i thought
strained or pulled tissue
i went about my day
the pain persisted”
…and Rosie agrees with me! WE BRIEFLY ACHIEVE MOTHERFUCKING SYNCHRONICITY. wait, no we don’t, that’s a completely unrelated philosophical concept! but doesn’t it sound like it’s the right term? would anyone know it wasn’t if i hadn’t pointed this out? well, okay, for that to happen, someone would have to be reading this, which seems unlikely, i admit. let’s just keep it moving.
“i became nauseous
my skin was clammy
i was very very hot
i threw up”
cheap joke alert: this is, word for word, a description of how i felt when i was picturing a sweaty Rosie O’Donnell struggling mightily with unsticking an enormous woman from her car. okay, not really, but i just have a need to get every piece of low-hanging comedy fruit today.
“maybe this is a heart attack
i googled womens heart attack symptoms
i had many of them
but really? – i thought – naaaa”
see, and here’s the thing: most anyone can have a heart attack, even if you’re young, even if you’re in shape. but if you’re fifty and overweight? and financially secure enough and with flexible enough time that a trip to the doctor, even if it results in somewhat expensive testing, wouldn’t really be an imposition? come the fuck on, Rosie, this was just ridiculous.
“i took some bayer aspirin
saved by a tv commercial
i know what she means when she says “literally,” i really, really do: that the ONLY reason she took the aspirin was that she’d seen the ad, and she wouldn’t have taken the aspirin if it wasn’t for the ad, so the ad saved her. i get it! but the aspirin is what literally saved you, Rosie, THE BAYER ASPIRIN! even if it makes me an asshole to argue this point –and we can just go ahead and assume that it does, because there is absolutely no reason not to do so– i don’t fucking care. i don’t care! what’s the percentage in not being an asshole about this? can’t you let me go to hell the way i want to?
“i did not call 911
50% of women having heart attacks never call 911
200,000 women die of heart attacks
every year in the US”
well, those statistics are certainly something… but then people can come up with statistics to prove anything, Rosie. 14% of all people know that.
“by some miracle i was not one of them
the next day i went to a cardiologist
the dr did an EKG and sent me to the hospital
where a stent was put in
my LAD was 99% blocked
they call this type of heart attack
the Widow maker
i am lucky to be here”
…which further proves my point about this whole “Rosie O’Donnell pops into the doctor’s office not being a big fucking deal for her” thing that i was talking about earlier, especially since she gives us no indication as to WHY she suddenly decided to go to said doctor.
“know the symptoms ladies
listen to the voice inside
the one we all so easily ignore
honestly, i think this ham-fisted closing kind of kills the serious, sincere vibe we had going on. that said, i think i’ve decided to try and turn “know the symptoms, ladies” into my new catchphrase somehow. i mean, i have no idea how i’m going to do this, but let’s see if we can make it happen, okay? okay. and that will do it for this week.