Telling the Truth is a Bitter Herb [Oct 20, 2003]
Hello, I’m Jesse Popp and I’ll be filling in for Neal Pollack all week while he’s out rocking and rolling and reading in support of his new novel and album. That is, filling in for him after Donnie Bowman, Paul Fisher, and Chris Monks have all done bang up jobs these past few weeks. And don't forget that Matthew Tobey will be here next week, too. At any rate, you’re probably wondering who I am, exactly. Well, I live in Detroit and I am a stand-up comedian, which means that I also have a full time office job. What kind of an office job? Well, I don’t like to brag, but let’s just say that I don’t have health insurance. I do, however, own an electric toothbrush, so I think I’ll be all right.
There’s a lot going on in the world and my job, at the very least, is to write about those things in a way that doesn’t make you stop coming to this website for the rest of your life. Hopefully, at the very most, these five days will be nothing short of magical. Not as magical as, say, sitting in a box for 44 days, but keep in mind that I am not a highly-touted professional magician. By the way, it looks like David Blaine isn’t wasting any time in taking things to the even nexter level because he has been banned from having sex for THREE days! Good luck, David; let me know what your secret is! Ain’t that always the way though? You spend 44 days in a box and then you have to spend the next three days stayin’ out of ‘em! Women: they want it all but they’ll settle for some chocolate.
Speaking of women, Kobe Bryant is expected to learn today whether he will stand trial on rape charges. The NBA has grown brain-meltingly boring in recent years, and there’s a reason rape trials aren’t called laugh parties, so it took me awhile to read up on this case. But I eventually did, and now I’m ready to lampoon the shit out of it.
Kobe Bryant is, of course, innocent until proven guilty, but I'm more than a little troubled by the fact that his defense team seems to be going with the ol' It's Impossible To Rape A Slut Defense. Bryant’s lawyer, Pamela Mackey, has been accused by the prosecution of making a “conscious misrepresentation of the evidence in order to smear the victim publicly." But the defense says that it has “compelling evidence” of Bryant's innocence. What is this compelling evidence? Well, when the alleged victim went to the police, she was wearing panties that contained traces of semen from someone other than Bryant. Wow. Compelling, indeed! Or, maybe not. Check out this alleged excerpt from the alleged victim’s diary:
Dear Diary, I just had consensual sex with a guy. I know I’m not married, but…So, as you can see, it is possible to rape a slut after all. But the defense can still play up the fact that the alleged victim admitted to taking part in mutual kissing with Mr. Bryant. That’s right: she admitted to mutual kissing with Mr. Bryant! See, this is very compelling because the only thing less possible to rape than a slut is a total cocktease. Shit or get off the pot, ladies! An analogous precedent for this argument was set in the civil ruling of Smith V. Best Western:Dear Diary, Kobe Bryant just raped me. OMG, I'm being such a slut today! :(
If someone invites you to their hotel room and you eat a salad, that person would then be allowed to forcibly feed you a five course dinner from behind.
If that doesn’t work and worse comes to worse, I recommend using the Miracle on 34th Street Defense. This would involve writing thousands of letters and addressing them to such people as "Not a Rapist Guy", "A Perfect Gentleman", “Scott Free” and “Mr. Draws the Line at Adultery.” Then, after the Post Office sends them all to Kobe Bryant, just dump the sack of letters out on a table and be all, "I rest my case!" It works like a charm. It works so like a charm that I've already prepared for any future crimes I might commit by legally changing my name to I Was At The Movies The Whole Time Jones.
Anyway, I’ll see you all the rest of this week…at the movies (wink, wink)! Feel free to email me. But please don’t send me inspirational things like stories about what a farmer did to a butterfly or how a guy helped a lady change her tire and the lady ended up being Mrs. Nat King Cole and that’s why you should always be nice. Ask my mom what I do to those things. I delete them back into hell! You know, you probably don’t even want to email me and here I am setting up all kinds of ground rules. Plus I went to my mom’s house today and she gave me some free donuts so I guess I shouldn’t be making fun of her. Sorry. Never mind. Email me whatever you please, even if it’s a list of all the different kinds of farts. I hope your Monday is silent but deadly!
