Sam’s Top 10 Most Unlikable People

I would like to introduce an occasional contributor to this blog.  Her name is Samantha Evans and she is very dear to my heart.  Mostly because she thinks like me.  So here, submitted for your pleasure is her top 10 list of poeple that would no longer be allowed to live were she given a gun, ten bullets, and a license to kill:

 

 

SAM’S TOP 10 MOST UNLIKABLE PEOPLE

 

• 10. GENE SIMMONS: Ah, yes. Mr. Simmons. As in The Demon, and the Rock God himself. That Gene Simmons…or, formally known as such. This last generation’s Gene Simmons is hardly a speck of the glorious KISS days passed. It’s humorous that a guy who’s main band policy was reaping all the benefits of everything but drugs would punish the country with other forms of ill-fated overdoses. Well we are all aware of many a music star’s lacking modesty on the entertainment front, this dude trumps them all. Gene’s joined the rest of the washed up has-beens to ride a nice fat cash cow all the way to the money desert. Political/Overseas commentary where he otherwise has no fucking idea what he’s talking about? Yup. Frivolous lawsuits including everyone from jilted lovers to basement-dwelling Internet pioneers? Yup. Flushing musical integrity down the toilet for a vapid reality TV show whoring all of his lavish expenses and spoiled-rotten teenage children? Yup again. Of course you can still see him touring with his most fruitful endeavor of all-picking up vocals due to Paul Stanley’s inability to do so, but just remember…he’s reaping all your trustafundian royalties on everything from KISS T-shirts to Cherry cola. I say, an era where Gene’s famous tongue flick resembles little more than a weak piece of wet shoe leather is surely an era where he should probably get back in that bed of roses and turn off the camera…please.

• 9. DR.PHIL: …because what’s more dangerous than an afternoon frump TV star fresh from Oprah’s womb?! I hardly know where to begin regarding this hypocritical asshole. It could be his exploitation of weeping husbands on “Dr. Phil’s Housewives” where he surrounds one wounded male party which quickly becomes the equivalent of a bleeding antelope in the nest of ten drooling lionesses. “He cheated on meee!” one demonic harpy shrieks, which is followed by several other hisses & cackles, only to be rounded out by Philly boy’s grunt wisdom on infidelity. Should we bother to touch base on these horrific creature’s impossibility to be satisfied in a relationship without the accompaniment of a credit card and/or leash to further humiliate and emasculate these shells of men? Hardly. I don’t know about you, but Dr. Phil does a damn good job at engulfing me in sympathy at the sight of their orange, mascara-streaked faces. Or perhaps it’s the “Dr. Phil Family,” or, the epitome of everything unholy in the form of a supposed domestic residence. Mom hates Dad, sister’s screwing the other sister’s husband, the other sister can’t stop banging out children while coping with some crippling pain pill addiction…SWEET JESUS, GET THAT BABY IN FOSTER CARE BEFORE IT EXPLODES! I invite you to join me on calling out Mr. McGraw on all his colossal fuck-ups, including his chastisement of the porn industry while he sports a shit-eating grin standing up at his bastard protégé’s marriage to a Playboy Playmate. As the man would say himself: “Failure is no accident”…and wouldn’t the good doctor know best.

• 8. CMT: Otherwise known as: if you would like to perform, we’ll take you. When was the last time you saw a “country”music video that even remotely sounded like country? If you have anything in common with myself, country really isn’t your bag, but you might remember “country” music defined by people like Randy Travis, or Alan Jackson. I don’t know if Randy Travis still makes music, but if he does-chances are it won’t be played on CMT unless he’s wearing skinny jeans (and not Wrangler-type skinny jeans) or something out of the Ed Hardy collection. Gangster rap and pop music is one thing, but the sheer laziness that goes into producing recent country songs is astounding. Truly, a monkey really could do this…no, I mean, I’m pretty sure a monkey could scream in a more melodic manner than Gwyneth Paltrow’s menstrual piano accompaniment at this year’s CMA’s. Really? Gwyneth Paltrow?! Thanks for reminding me that all you need is a list of womanly film roles or a campfire on the beach to work for these retards. Dear CMT, I’d like you to know I have some new ideas for your blossoming music stars, and they read much like the rest of your hillbilly poetry: Chicken and Beer, Farmer’s Daughter, Stuck Like Glue, and hey-I got one for Reba if she can still drag herself up to the microphone…I’m Old and No One Cares. Look, I was born in the county next to Ed Gein and I know me a good reason to use a slide guitar.  Whining about your millions of dollars and airbrush-blasted women isn’t jiving.

• 7. ZAK BAGANS: Because you spell your name Z-A-K. Because you spell Baggins, B-A-G-A-N-S. Because you think the sound of someone’s fart in the room is a ghost telling you to “get fucked.” This guy is climbing the fame ladder a little higher every show just because he is so unlikable. Let’s assume that spirits really could come in contact with you: do you really think they’d appreciate you running around with toilet paper on your head, pretending to be a wounded Vet? Or dancing around fire with some random braud who looks like a poor man’s Silvia Browne to quote: “entice” the dead? If you haven’t’ been wishing for this tool to actually see a “real” ghost, preferably the ghost of some really angry, really rape-y prison inmate, you are just lying to yourself. I’m thinking all the time spent on sculpting that douchey hairdo could easily be spent on a pair of balls, or at least a new pair of camera men. Honestly, watching these three prance about in abandoned buildings has desecrated any hope I ever had in anything ever being haunted, and be equally disappointed that the Travel channel’s only competition in most annoying thing to watch is Man Vs Food.

• 6. BRETT MICHAELS: Poison. And those bad reality shows. Your creepy scalp covering. For making a joke about your adolescent daughter having fake tramp stamp. You’re an awful person.

• 5. CHELSEA HANDLER: Seriously, who is this woman? Comedian? Author? Actress? “Humorist?!” (What the hell is a humorist?) I’m just going to go ahead and assume you gained your crappy show by marrying (then divorcing) the guy that oversees E!, because you are not funny, and none of my clicky-heeled acquaintances are going to convince me of anything different. You are equal to the female version of Dane Cook, a shiny-faced cartoon character that dim women love because they love Sex and the City, and dim men enjoy because well, you have boobs…kind of. If there’s one thing I hate more then single moms promoting books about nonsense & outrageous sex-capades, it’s some bawdy Hollywood puppet writing happy little tales about getting drunk and forgetting various sex partner’s names. Thanks, Chelsea, thank you for reminding me it’s much cooler to be an intoxicated skank than to actually resort to anything worth while when composing a work of non-fiction. Are you there, 90 proof liquor? It’s me, Sam…and I need the whole bottle to get through this ass wipe of a book.

• 4. MICHEAL BAY: Yes…him again, and by the time you get finished reading this paragraph he will probably own your computer, and your wife. This director/man child has been making it a-ok to half ass filmography for quite awhile now, and will continue to do so for many a year to come. No one can dispute that sometimes a good meat head action film is just fine to enjoy, and perhaps he’s just re-defining what face-paced man films are all about. He’s just doing what he loves, and…NAOOO. HE’S EVIL, EVIL I TELL YOU. THIS SHITHEAD WILL TURN ANYTHING YOU’VE EVER LOVED INTO A FIREY EXPLOSION OF BAD ACTING AND INFANTILE ONE-LINERS. Mr. Bay has absolutely no problem putting his two cents into anything that generates an audience, and has a hand in almost any box-office money maker, including some really terrible music videos. Keep your mitts off my horror films, you weasely big-wig, everything you touch turns to talentless ash.

• 3. THE KARDASHIANS: We watch them dance, we watch them (attempt) to sing, we watch them have grainy, poor-quality taped sex. Hell, we might as well watch them on the crapper. Upon doing some research because I don’t watch this show, I find that “The Wedding” episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians had nearly 3.2 million viewers. 3.2 fricken million! I am left speechless, surprised, and slightly mongoloid after reading that. I don’t feel the need to ramble any more about it, and if that doesn’t leave you with a true, piss yourself fear in where the world is headed, I don’t know what will.

• 2. NANCY GRACE: Make way, infidels: the queen of all castration is here, and you will not get a word in edgewise. My main concern with Nancy Grace is not her sensationalist tendencies, nor her bitchy remarks to anyone who dares to disagree, it’s really more along the lines of her following. Let’s take a virtual stroll across Facebook, shall we? I am willing to put money down that 50% of your “strong, self-reliant” woman friends will be fans of Ms. Grace. What exactly does this say? Well, let’s just reassess what “strong, self-reliant” really means in the warped, twisted world of today’s “independent” woman. Ex: “I like Nancy Grace because she speaks her mind.” Reality: “I like Nancy Grace because she makes outrageous claims on what she thinks is right, regardless of actuality, just like me!” Or, ex: “I think Nancy Grace is awesome because she’s a confident, opinionated woman redefining her industry.” Reality: “I think Nancy Grace is awesome because she yells a lot and wears pants suits to hide her giant uncircumcised member.” Obviously, I am a female who likes to let you know what I think, but ladies…you don’t have to be a snarling beast to do so, I mean, I’m pretty feminine, don’t you think?

 

 

…AAANNNDDD DRUM ROLE, PLEASE….

 

• 1. DR. TITZER- AKA, THE GUY WHO CREATED “YOUR BABY CAN READ” :

Once upon a time, it was normal and healthy to either play and teach our children, or entrust them with the relatives to do so. Why, why social media, why do you feel the need to have some DVD program which is essentially televised flash cards to teach your kids to babble in audible “words?!” If you can bear it, take a look at a few actual reviews of this trash and you’ll realize what this is really saying is “your baby can memorize” …as in, the little sponge absorbs a few images associated with words played repeatedly until his tiny little head spins and WA-la. The kid’s quoting Shakespeare, or at least that’s what this Titzer guy wants you to think. I’ve been privy to this commercial on constant rotation while having my daughter’s cartoons on in the morning, and I’m wondering how long it will be before the station realizes this is nothing more than a tool for the pretentious mother, or a lack there of. I cannot describe to you how disgusting it is that some supposed “doctor” would like to charge me for placing my offspring in the care of a television set. This video will in no way ever replace a real parent sitting down with your child and actually READING to them. It’s the same damn thing people, only colder…and every cent you fork over is probably going to fund this guy’s vacation to Aruba where he will leave little Alexa in the care of their Hispanic nanny. After all, that’s how all these other assholes on this list got started, and we don’t need anymore of that.

 

Samantha is mother, amateur writer, model and full time cynic.  You can find her on Facebook here.