The New New Rules: A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass (2 page)

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Authors: Bill Maher

Tags: #Humor, #Form, #Political, #General, #Topic, #Political Science, #Essays

BOOK: The New New Rules: A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass
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And please know I’m not one of these celebrities who puts out a book every year or so to try and cash in on my fans’ love and loyalty. That’s what my line of meat marinades is for. And my Real Time, Real Smooth scented personal lubricant, now available at Walgreens.
I realize some celebrity books are like gnats or Anthony Weiner’s penis, relentlessly coming at you and constantly in your face. My books are more like cicadas. They come out in longer intervals, Christians consider them a plague, and there’s always at least one kid in the neighborhood who will eat one on a dare.
I try to make each book special. My last one was published in 2005, and the one before that in 2002. I think most men experience this: The older you get, the more time it takes you between releases.
 
 
So welcome to
The
New
New Rules: A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass,
the second installment in my New Rules trilogy. I’m glad you picked it up, and I think you’ll find it quite enlightening, especially chapter 7, where I describe in detail how Levi Johnston plied me with watermelon wine coolers and took my virginity in a tent. The sad part: Part of me still loves him.
Now, about the subtitle,
A Funny Look at How Everybody but Me Has Their Head Up Their Ass
. Truth is, I didn’t even want to have a subtitle, but the publisher said these days in the book world it was de rigueur, like using a French phrase somewhere in the first ten pages to show you’re a real “writer.” The first
New Rules
book carried the subtitle
Polite Musings from a Timid Observer,
which cracked me up, but when promoting the book, I can count on my penis the number of times a morning deejay got the joke. You see, Fartface and Asshole Jack, I’m not
really
a timid observer, and my musings are known to be somewhat less than . . . oh, never mind.
So I took a more literal approach this time: “Everybody but me has their head up their ass”—I think we all feel that way sometimes! And that’s why New Rules resonate with so many. They call out our fellow humans, providing that tug on the leash that urges them back to civil behavior. New Rules put a voice to life’s gripes, everything from the petty annoyance of that little sticker on your supermarket plum to the brazen injustice of a Supreme Court that sides almost solely with corporations over individuals. Plus, it’s the segment on my show when the panelists have to shut up and I get to talk.
As we approach the presidential election of 2012, it seems we need New Rules now more than ever. They’re an attempt, albeit through humor, to bring at least some semblance of order to a world gone haywire. Do you realize we are currently overlooking the threat of climate change, which is more likely to be the end of us than anything else, while actively passing legislation to protect us from Sharia law? That’s like ignoring the crackhead jimmying open your back door to confront the monster your toddler hears under her bed. Sure, you’ve assuaged a little girl’s unfounded fear, but now you’ve got Tom Sizemore in your kitchen.
That’s what this book is more than anything else: a pleasant, funny diversion, something to make you laugh while the earth slowly fries and suffocates in drought, wildfires, and eventual flooding that will engulf us all. I’m sorry, I meant it’s fantastic beach reading and a terrific stocking stuffer.
While our politicians place personal power before patriotism, my New Rules are a call to consensus. They provide much-needed structure in an ever-changing world. And why not? We all live by rules, whether codified or implied. We adopt them through common sense (on the airplane, we’ll exit row by row), common courtesy (at the gas station, we pull up to the far pump, so someone can pull in behind us), or experience (when sharing a cell, the bigger man gets his choice of bunks).
And then there are those rules we must simply learn for ourselves. For instance, when you’re out shopping, you have to actually buy something. You can’t just browse around endlessly, sniffing the merchandise and saying, “Mmm, I’m in heaven.” Believe me, I’ve tried this, and eventually they ask you to leave the dispensary.
 
 
Finally, a word about time. I’m against it. Especially now that it seems to pass more quickly than ever. The world of 2005, when the first New Rules came out, seems as distant as Michele Bachmann’s gaze when she talks about lightbulbs. We now have the iPad, Braille porn, cars that park themselves, and a new badass president who shoots pirates and terrorists in the face. Plus, the AMC network no longer shows just old movies. In paging through my previous New Rules book—and you really should pick it up; you wouldn’t go see
Twilight: Eclipse
without having seen
Twilight: New Moon,
would you?—I couldn’t help laughing at some of the new fads or conventions I poked fun at then, which are completely mainstream now. I railed on, for example, about the weirdos who walk around talking into those strange Bluetooth devices, and, of course, now Bluetooths come factory-installed on infants.
So enjoy these
New
New Rules now, while they’re fresh. Because I find the world is changing much more quickly than I can bitch about it.
A CASE OF THE MUNDANES
 
New Rule:
If you tweet neat stuff about your life for your friends to read more than ten times a day, I can tell you a neat fact about your friends: They hate you.
A FRIDGE TOO FAR
 
New Rule:
The Internet doesn’t have to be everywhere. Samsung has a new Internet-equipped refrigerator, just the thing for people tired of sending e-mail from their toaster. It’s so convenient: Instead of writing an old-timey “analog” grocery list on paper, you simply command your iPod to talk to your refrigerator, which relays the request to your computer, and in six to ten working days a carton of milk will arrive from an Amazon .com warehouse facility in Nebraska, encased in six layers of Bubble Wrap. What could be easier?
AB FIVE FREDDY
 
 
New Rule:
Stop posing with your shirt off on the cover of your hip-hop album. This look doesn’t say gangsta. It says, “I’ll suck your dick for some blow.”
ACAPULCO SCOLD
 
New Rule:
This one is for Mexican drug lords: If you don’t knock off this violence right now, I’m going to stop smoking pot entirely. Just kidding. I’ll get it from Thailand.
ACCOUNTS DECEIVABLE
 
New Rule:
My bank must stop trying to sell me identity theft protection.  You know why I expect you to protect my money? Because you’re a
bank.
Besides, I’ve already taken the most important precaution to make sure nobody abuses my credit card: I’m single.
EVOLUTIONARY WAR
 
New Rule:
You don’t have to teach both sides of a debate if one side is a load of crap. President Bush recently suggested that public schools should teach “intelligent design” alongside the theory of evolution, because after all, evolution is “just a theory.” Then the president renewed his vow to “drive the terrorists straight over the edge of the earth.”
Here’s what I don’t get: President Bush is a brilliant scientist. He’s the man who proved you could mix two parts booze with one part cocaine and still fly a jet fighter. And yet he just can’t seem to accept that we descended from apes. It seems pathetic to be so insecure about your biological superiority to a group of feces-flinging, rouge-buttocked monkeys that you have to make up fairy tales like “We came from Adam and Eve,” and then cover stories for Adam and Eve,
like intelligent design!
Yeah, leaving the earth in the hands of two naked teenagers, that’s a real intelligent design.
I’m sorry, folks, but it may very well be that life is just a series of random events, and that there is no master plan—but enough about Iraq.
There aren’t necessarily two sides to every issue. If there were, the Republicans would have an opposition party. And an opposition party would point out that even though there’s a debate in schools and government about this, there is no debate among scientists. Evolution is supported by the entire scientific community. Intelligent design is supported by guys on line to see
The Dukes of Hazzard.
And the reason there is no real debate is that intelligent design isn’t real science. It’s the equivalent of saying that the Thermos keeps hot things hot and cold things cold because it’s a god. It’s so willfully ignorant you might as well worship the U.S. mail. “It came again! Praise Jesus!”
Stupidity isn’t a form of knowing things. Thunder is high-pressure air meeting low-pressure air—it’s not God bowling. “Babies come from storks” is not a competing school of thought in medical school.
We shouldn’t teach both. The media shouldn’t equate both. If Thomas Jefferson knew we were blurring the line this much between Church and State, he would turn over in his slave.
As for me, I believe in evolution
and
intelligent design. I think God designed us in his image, but I also think God is a monkey.
 
 
—August 19, 2005
 
ACID REDUX
 
New Rule:
Stop saying drug use makes people lazy. Jimi Hendrix did a lot of drugs, and even though he’s been dead for forty years, he’s
still
making new records. Suck on
that
, Partnership for a Drug-Free America! In fact, Jimi’s new CD debuted at number four on the charts. Which tells me (a) his music is as relevant as ever . . . and (b) that baby boomers still haven’t figured out how to steal music off the Internet.
ACID REFLUX
 
New Rule:
Somebody who went to Woodstock has to admit that it sucked. Wow, you got to see Country Joe and the Fish, Sha Na Na,
and
Arlo Guthrie in one weekend? Plus you caught
E. coli
from having sex in the mud? I am soooo jealous! Let’s look at the legacy of Woodstock. Tim Hardin? Heroin overdose. Janis Joplin? Heroin overdose. Jimi Hendrix? Choked on his own vomit. I can think of only one place I’d rather be, less than Woodstock: Woodstock ’99.
ACTING BUG
 
New Rule:
We don’t need a Broadway musical about Spider-Man. He lives with his aunt, wears a body stocking, and leads a secret double life. He’s gay enough already.
AFTER-DINNER HINT
 
New Rule:
Waiters must stop saying, “Did you save room for dessert?” This is America. We don’t save room for dessert, we make room for dessert. Dessert isn’t a delightful way to cap off a meal, it’s a challenge. In Russia they swim in subzero temperatures, in Spain they run with the bulls, and here we eat forty pounds of goo from a place called The Cheesecake Factory.
AIR BRAG
 
 
New Rule:
If I can kick the back of the seat in front of me with my cock, I’m too close. Introducing the SkyRider, an airline seat that works like a saddle, so they can cram in more passengers. I don’t mind shoving my bag under the seat, except when it contains my testicles.

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