This is Bullshit:Easter at the Strip Club

Every other Tuesday, writer/comedian/blogger/crank Alex Blagg drops in to share with CRACKED the five things that are irking him this week.

The Easter Holidays — As an agnostic, impartial observer, I've got to say — of all the wacky and nonsensical religious holidays in the world, this one is way up there. First of all, commemorating Christ' crucifixion with something called "Good Friday?" According to the Bible, dude got beaten and tortured for hours on end, then nailed to a big piece of wood. What' so good about that? I saw The Passion, and "good" is not the word I'd use to describe JC' big day. What' even worse is that people celebrate Christ' triumphant resurrection by hunting for crème-filled chocolate eggs supposedly left for them by an over-sized magic bunny. Say what? What the hell does a rabbit have to do with anything? That' like celebrating Thanksgiving by making dinosaur fossils out of plaster and leaving them on people' doorsteps.

Macintosh' Genius Bar — Am I the only person who' made the staggeringly obvious observation that those who tend this bar are neither geniuses, nor even marginally competent in many cases? I mean, I appreciate your having a place where I can get smarmy junior college students to poke around on my laptop prior to shrugging and sending it off for repairs from real technicians, but call that what it is. Does McDonald' refer to their ordering line as, "The Threshold to Exotic Culinary Delight?" Of course not — they call it "the counter," just like Macintosh should be calling their Genius Bar "Customer Service Desk" or even "Place Where You Might Or Might Not Get Help From Pretentious Jackasses Who Think They're Geniuses, But Are In Fact Only People Who Make $10 An Hour and Wish They Could Be Home Playing Computer Games."

Strip Clubs - Now that it's wedding season and I'm at the age where a few of my less astute male friends have elected to get themselves married, I'm constantly being forced to attend bachelor parties, many of which involve going to a strip club at some point in the evening. Being the heterosexual man that I am, I find the nude female form as pleasing as the next person. However, listening to some smack addict try to talk me into shelling out twenty bucks for "a dance" so she can pay her dealer and still afford to feed her illegitimate 4 year-old child is not exactly my idea of sexy. Before you tell me I'm "crazy" or "a faggot" or both, next time you're sitting in the dark next to a middle-aged guy with a sex addiction at some place called "Babes," drinking a $9 Budweiser while some chick who forgot to use deodorant is moonlighting on her "escort" job by rubbing hepatitis all over your pant leg for a hundred bucks an hour, try taking a long look around and honestly asking yourself whether you'd be having more fun at a normal bar talking to girls who aren't named "Lexus."

Nice Days — I like pleasant weather as much as the next guy, but part of me really hates this time of year. Every spring, people get so excited about going outside that they become over-demanding assholes, behaving as if every moment you spend indoors is some kind of mortal sin that should be brutally punished. Look, the average human being is in for about 90,000 "nice days" throughout the course of their lifetime, so just because I feel like spending one Saturday afternoon sitting in the dark comfort of my apartment, drinking cheap beer and watching Three' Company, doesn't mean I need some asshole incessantly telling me that I'm "lazy," "pathetic" and "wasting the day." This isn't summer camp, and I don't remember asking for an "activities counselor." Also, in my book, an afternoon with John Ritter and those crazy girls is time well spent.

The Equation for the Perfect Ass — Last week, the NY Post announced that a team of British scientists have developed a mathematical equation for the perfect female ass. Now I know that, as you likely enjoy asses with a pleasing appearance, your initial reaction will probably be one of enthusiasm. However, I beg you to put your pornographic predilections aside for a moment and consider this again: somewhere, someone gave a TEAM of SCIENTISTS the time and MONEY to do LABORATORY RESEARCH about babies with back. AIDS and Cancer: still no cures. But scientists have finally cracked the age-old mystery of asses nice enough to bounce quarters off of. How retarded. For one, you don't need a scientific calculator and a PhD in astrophysics to identify a great backside — all you need are eyes and the willingness to be the sleazy guy who' always saying to your friends, "Jesus, look at the ass on her!"