PLEASE STAND BY: INSANE ITALIAN SHALL RETURN!

As you may have noticed, I have taken a leave of absence. I fully intend to return to rambling and posting nonsense in the very near future. I had to take a short break to go back to school and learn stuffs so I can change careers. That's right folks, I finally decided to pursue one of my lifelong passions. I have two actually. One is opening up a matador themed beach bar in Barcelona. The other I'm trying right now. I'll fill you in if I actually get through it and pass all the tests and graduate. Otherwise we'll pretend like it never happened and I'll go back to searching for Death in the Afternoon themed wallpaper and bull horn shaped mugs on the internets. 

Look for new posts and a new sexy attitude this October. God Bless you. 

-CC

Lord of the Pings: The Return of the Ping

I think we can all agree the missing plane fiasco has gone on way too long. Obviously the searchers have been focusing their efforts in all the wrong places, and it's about time I set the record straight. If given the chance, I'm almost certain I could pinpoint the location of the airliner, but unfortunately nobody will give me the time of day. I've emailed the Malaysian Prime Minister, several Australian Admirals and even my cousin TJ from Houston who's dating a chick in the Coast Guard. None of them have responded.

The New Year's Resolution Audit

I just read a Yahoo Shine article written by a sixteen-year-old eighth grader from Kansas that said nearly 90% of people who make New Year's resolutions completely give up on them after about sixty days. Although the same author once wrote that regular consumption of bananas would give people cat-like night vision, I do agree with her here. I think sixty days is even pushing it. I gave up on my resolutions (to not lie to children or set anything that wasn't mine on fire) in less than 24 hours. Actually knocked them both out simultaneously. Anyway, let's check and see how others have managed with their own self-improvement goals. 

The Doctor Will See You Now

Dr. CC that is. I'm not a real doctor, nor do I play one on TV. I do however work at a medical school so I feel I've absorbed enough peripheral knowledge to make informed clinical decisions and such. Even better, I've done it all without being saddled with a quarter million dollar tuition debt. In fact, I'm being paid by them to eavesdrop on student study sessions, practical exams and even actual surgeries. Over the years I've stitched together all the bits and pieces I've accumulated, (words like mitochondria, subluxation and catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia) and created what I do believe is a very well rounded set of medical credentials for myself. 

EVERYONE PLEASE CALM DOWN!

Posts will resume this week. My life has been hectic. And I was recently diagnosed with 'hiding under the blankets and eating sharp cheddar' syndrome. It's crippling. Sometimes I even take an oatmeal stout under there with me. I'm getting better though. Thank you for all your well-wishes. See you after the Super Bowl. I love you. 

Nelson Said What?

There's been a lot of misinformation lately surrounding the shocking and unexpected death of the mythically empathetic humanitarian leader, Nelson Mandela. At just 115 years old, Mandela stunned the world into disbelieving grief when he suddenly passed away after only 19 recent emergency trips to the hospital. Adding to the immense weight of the sadness is of course the circus of insanity created when funeral selfies, schizophrenic interpreters and misattributed quotes began flooding the interwebs. 

Luckily I'm here to straighten it all out for you. Well, the quotes at least. I've put together a list of some of the more popular misquotes from the revolutionary philanthropist and politician, followed by his actual, verified words. Many times the quotes are so similar that at first they might not appear any different; but it can be the placement of a single word or punctuation mark that changes its entire meaning. Hopefully this will clear up any confusion.The last thing we'd ever want to do is tarnish the revered legacy of a global icon with falsities and untruths. Amen. 

Gold, Grenades and Holiday Games

Lots to catch up on folks. I'm back from Italy with not only a few kilos of Parmesan and prosciutto, but a fresh reserve of writing motivation. So here's to a winter full of nonsense and myrrh. First up is this story: 

Mi Dispiace!

I haven't written, I know. But I'm in Italy. And Italians don't really use computers yet. Their websites look like Geocities pages from 1995. They still wait in lines at shabby offices to pay utility bills. In fact, if you ask too many questions about technology or electronics, Italians may become agitated and spill Campari all over you. It's best to keep your conversations limited to cheese, politics and soccer matches - the older the better, regarding all three. 

I'll be back the week of November 18. I promise a wealth of new posts after that. That's assuming I don't get Amanda Knoxed by the world's worst polizia and have to spend a few extra years here. Does that reference even work? Is she actually innocent? It's really hard to say at this point. I thought I knew, but then I saw the Lifetime Special and now I'm not so sure. I should probably buy her book, that should clear things up. 

Arrivederci tutti! 

Sitting Down with the Guy Who Knows Philly Better Than You

Joining me this morning on the Sit Down is lifelong Philly native and self-employed window tinter, Danny "Ray-Bans" Carbonara, who claims to know the absolute best things to do and eat in Philadelphia, hands down. Danny grew up in the North Philly suburb of Jenkintown, where he says he and "his boy B-Coop" used to "raise hell and pull crazy tail."  I haven't mentioned to him yet that Bradley Cooper graduated high school when he was five, and I probably won't.  

CC: Good Morning Danny, how are you today?

The Friendship Litmus Test: Now Only $2

Plow through a decade of college in three different states and you'll amass quite a stockpile of friends. Friends in high and low places, sharing degrees in everything from physics to felonies. A deep catalog of friends to pluck from for any occasion: someone to drink with, sleep with, cry with or complain to...and even the special ones you can do all four with simultaneously. The trouble is, it's hard to figure out who exactly in your overcrowded contact list is actually a true blue friend. 


Luckily I'm here to explain it for you. Otherwise of course, you'd be lost in a sea of superficial, disingenuous, self-medicating drinkers and floaters with ulterior motives and personality disorders. Who, I believe if you looked hard enough, make up a good chunk of your address book.

Go ahead, have a quick scroll and let me know if any less than a third fall somewhere in that category. Not only would I be surprised, but I'll even send you a religious themed postcard for being so disciplined and selective with your social circles. 

The way I see it, there is only one question you need to ask yourself to determine whether someone is an actual, real friend of the highest order. 

Word on the Street: Government Shutdown

So unless you've been living under a rock....who are these people who live under rocks by the way? These people who squeezed their whole entire lives underneath a small chunk of granite in their backyard, burrowing into the ground with all of their possessions like prairie dogs just to avoid pop culture and current events? These reborn subterranean trolls who know nothing of Miley Cyrus, Breaking Bad or how awful the NY Giants are this year? I guess I don't really blame them for wanting to drop out and hide from it all, I usually try to at least once a day. I just wonder why they don't pick a more comfortable place. I've actually gotten really good at building this pretty dark, impenetrable fort in my bed with some pillows, the comforter, a little rope and a few Velcro strips. I bring my flashlight in there, sometimes my cat, and we listen to Brian Eno and read Camus' The Stranger together. Maybe I've shared too much. Ok moving on, the government is still shut down. Let's find out what people think about it. 

Why are Italians Always on Vacation?

It's not a joke. Really, why do we always seem to be taking extended breaks and vacations? In Italy, in addition to weekends, stores are closed at least one other arbitrary weekday and most even close up after lunch on Thursdays. And the whole country usually takes the entire month of August off. I mean if it wasn't for the French, we might seem  p r e t t y  lazy. 

Anyway, needless to say, I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Be back next week. In the meantime, order some nifty shirts from my unofficial store. Ci vediamo presto. 

Welcome to Earf

Ladies and gentlemen, Voyager 1 has left the solar system! For those of you who don't know what that means, shame on you. It's the first man-made object ever to leave our quaint, little galactic neighborhood in the history of time. Except if you're a Scientologist, and that already happened 75 million years ago when Xenu and his confederacy traveled to our planet in a modified DC-8 and nuked our volcanoes and imprisoned billions of souls in vacuum tubes and implanted toxic memories into their psyche. If you're not very familiar with the Church of Cruise, please have a looksee. It's the best thing you'll read this cosmological decade. The Rabbit Hole. I read on TMZ once that Travolta pays his masseuses to dress up like Xenu before he assaults them. Not sure if that's true. 

OUT OF OFFICE AUTOMATIC REPLY

I will be out of the office until Monday. Please contact my assistants, Poblano Ortiz or Florence Quach with any questions or concerns. Neither of them have phones, but you may page them numerical messages. I will also be out of the office again in late September when I trek to Providence with the Book of Eli and my minister's cape to officiate a friend's marriage. And once more in mid-November as I have been called back again to ancient Rome by papal cryptographers to help decode several unearthed texts for the Vatican. I am very busy this fall, but will continue returning to my office to post here at least once a week as promised. I assure you that. Except that I don't have an office. 

But Poblano and Florence are real, and they're very good at what they do. I pay them in millet and cover all of their mental health and water therapy sessions. It's hard to find quality help these days, and even harder convincing them to stay. Thank God for duct tape and electrical fencing. 

For the weekend, I leave you with this inspiring and delightful tale of honesty, perseverance and dedication. (Thanks to Neely, one of my loyal readers. I forget the other one's name.) Godspeed.

DOC ELLIS & THE LSD NO-NO

Word on the Street: America's Game

Holy cow! Can you believe it's actually happening? No, not the Chinese announcing plans to visit this moon this year, (although everything they do is naturally suspicious.) I'm talking about the NFL season kickoff! And what a game to get things started - a highly anticipated playoff rematch. Tonight all across the land, millions of couples will get into fights when the husband or boyfriend gets way too drunk on a weeknight and gets suddenly mad for no reason and throws a fit over something ridiculous like the batteries needing to be replaced in the remote control. Logo pint glasses will be broken, Pace Picante spilled, 911 dialed, babies crying, landlords knocking, and robed neighbors congregating on front lawns whispering and watching as sloppy buffoons are led down their driveways in Crocs, tighty-whiteys and XXXL Ravens jerseys, shouting about "suing Roger Goodell, NBC and the Goodyear Blimp" as they're stuffed into police cruisers.  

A spectacular night for America indeed!! Let's hit the streets and see what people have to say. (Oh, and Go Broncos!)

Sticker Shock: Lazy or Inept?

There's a lot of things I can't understand. Like how a compass really works. Or how to tie my shoes without using the two bows. And where certain relatives fall on the family tree outside of the core group. Once you start talking about step cousins of in-laws and half grand-nieces, I catch the glossed-over blank stare of Honey Boo Boo's mom. The gnats even circle my face. For me, even the telephone is still crazier technology than any space station or heart surgery robot that's ever been built. Our words, just bouncing around the globe instantaneously through the air and under the oceans? Wow, just wow. I can't ever seem to get anyone quite as excited about intercontinental voice transmission, but I'll keep trying. 

Recently what I can't understand involves bumper stickers. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the peculiar subculture of opinionated vehicle decorations, and often find them to be rather amusing. My favorite of all time was a shirtless ASU stoner cruising around Tempe at a dangerously slow speed in a beat-up, wood-paneled, Griswold-style station wagon packed to the gills with what appeared to be Mexican Serape blankets. On the rear window, below a rooftop antenna bent into the shape of a lightning bolt was a lone, faded sticker that stated simply: "I have no idea what I'm doing out of bed." I gave him a thumbs up as I drove by, but obviously he didn't notice it. 

What's driving me crazy is not the stickers, but the people who apply them to their cars so sloppily, with seemingly no effort at all to align them correctly. For the love of all things GMO-free, how the hell could you not take the time to make sure it's straight before you just drive off with your new important message to the world right in everybody's face? I'd love to be the type of person who doesn't care about these things because truthfully, the way it disturbs me is often overwhelming. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to vigorously shake some of these people like a Dominican nanny. 

Ask Ke$ha! {vol.2}

*Editor's Note: This column was late this week because Ke$ha did not submit it in time. Her tour manager, Nino Salmonni claims that her bus had mechanical problems just outside of Fresno. Sources close to Insane Italian however, reported witnessing the pop rap sensation being led away in handcuffs after defecating in a McDonald's Playland in Surprise, Arizona early yesterday morning. 

Dear Ke$ha, 

Recently, both of my parents and all three of my siblings lost their lives in a terrible freak accident in Vail, Colorado. There was a malfunction in the heating system of the mountain cabin they were renting and while they slept, all of them succumbed to carbon monoxide poisoning. The reason I was not on that trip was because I had VIP seats to your show at Musikfest in Bethlehem, PA. As devastated as I am, I feel that it was the love of your amazing music that literally kept me alive today and I want to thank you for that. I know that it will also be what gets me through the long dark days ahead of me for the rest of my life.  

Tess Schoonover, Alquippa, PA



I'm so sorry to hear about your family Tess. Sometimes when I'm sad I make my assistant put on the penis outfit and bounce around my house. I’m not a party girl in the ‘vagina hanging out of my skirt’ kind of way. I like getting drunk and partying but not in a gross way, I’m more like a pimp. More like a dance commander. 

-Ke$ha ♥♥♥♥♥

HOT JOB: Debt Collector

Overview

• Track down debtors using the internet, telephone and mail system. Negotiate settlements and payment arrangements. 

Primary Duties

• Call people at weird times with stupid numbers from ridiculous states.  

• When they answer, remain silent for several seconds before loudly mispronouncing their names.

• Be comfortable asking a grown man in Philadelphia about what he plans to do about a $17.50 unpaid balance from a 1994 water bill in Phoenix.

• Keep your composure when the man informs you he intends to fill an empty Maglight with 70 quarters and briskly insert the cold, rugged, anodized aluminum device into your wife's large intestine.  

Sitting Down with Racist, Conspiracy Theorist Limo Driver, Marvin Glasscock

CC: Joining me this morning on the Sit Down is actually my Philly limo driver taking me to the airport, Marvin Glasscock. Marv how are ya? 

Marvin: Hey I'm alive and my penis still works, so it's a DAMN good day, HAHAHAHA yaknowwhatimsayin?!! Where you headed? 

Fact + Bonus Fact: New Jersey

Jersey has always held a special place in my heart. As home to the airport I flew from while growing up, its partially responsible for my childhood love of aviation. Its 100 plus miles of sandy coastline is often where my merry band of misfit friends would recreate, typically preferring them to the tampon and syringe-seasoned beaches of our beleaguered home base, Staten Island. I had a high school crush in the Garden State who I would sneak out in the middle of the night to see, carelessly speeding across bridges and through tunnels in various states of inebriation - risking life and limb, all in the name of fleeting teenage infatuation. Fond memories, intricate and well preserved like ships in a bottle. 

New Jersey however has another side to its resume. A darker, more insidious list of traits. Like the fact that it often smells like dead hookers. And if you miss your turn, you have to drive another 30 miles past 300 RadioShacks, Dunkin Donuts and Bed Bath and Beyond-anchored strip malls to turn around. Or that the sports fans of Jersey can't seem to decide if they like the neighboring Eagles, Giants, Jets, Phillies, Yankees or Mets but all miraculously agree on one thing: being a giant pain in the ass.