There's nothing "classic" about AMC anymore...

If there's one thing that perturbs me to no end, its false advertising. There's a lot of that these days on cable TV, especially in the way channel names never seem to quite match up to their daily fare. Take the American Movie Classics channel (AMC), for example. AMC is unparalleled when it comes to missing the whole "names-help-for-classification-purposes" premise of, well, names.

For starters, it's got the word "movie" in its name, yet, for some inexplicable reason, they now show shows too. And these shows have nothing to do with movies like, say, Inside the Actors Studio. That I could understand. Nope, they're actual shows with plots and stuff. Now, maybe these shows are great. I wouldn't f***ing know though, cuz I tune into AMC to watch motherf***ing movies, not shows. And speaking of tuning into watch movies...

AMC used to be a dependable repository for great films like and Giant and Chinatown, and older fare that actually depended on writing and acting rather than one-liners and dudes with demolitions expertise. Any time I wanted to flip the remote to some quality entertainment, I could consistently depend on AMC for a late night screening of the original Planet of the Apes or The Manchurian Candidate (note that both of these originals were drive-by victims of sub-par remakes...Why? Cuz they're classic films). These days, however, AMC's standard fare includes such "classics" as, ahem, Commando, Iron Eagle and Die Hard 2.

Now, understand, I have no problem with these movies or others like them. I like movies that require as little thought as possible as much as the next guy. Hell, my wife will tell you that if Roadhouse comes on, my a** is parked in front of the television for the long haul cuz there's nothing better than watching Dalton kick some a** all over the Double Deuce. I also understand that you can't show "classics" all the time, but the ratio of "classic" films to absolute f***ing dogs is way out of whack on something named American Movie Classics.

Death Wish 3! Really?! U.S. Marshals?! C'mon! Striking Distance! Good God, man, have you gone insane? If highlighting classic American movies is your channel's mission, then you should be avoiding garbage like Passenger 57 at all costs!

You're missing the point, AMC, it's not about the body count in Missing In Action 2, it's about getting your name right. You might try GCFAWAWTWSASOTMS: The Garbage Cinema for Americans Who Also Want to Watch Shows About Stuff Other Than Movies Sometimes Channel.

And, TLC, you're next cuz I ain't "learning" jack sh*t on your f***ing channel...

There's no excuse for...hard plastic packaging.

I get boxes. I get plastic zip-lock style bags for things like tortillas and cheese (the kind you can find in the cheese section anyway...). I get cans and glass bottles. I even get those crazy pouches they decided to start putting tuna in. But you know what I don't get? I don't get this hard plastic sh*t:

I mean, really, what the f***? Not only do I feel like a bear trying to claw my way into an oyster or something whenever I come across this stuff, but doesn't it always seem to be reserved for delicate items like like light bulbs and computer cords that, in an ideal world, you would want to be careful with when opening? I mean, if I'm shelling out $80 plus shipping for a new computer cord, the last thing I want to be using to get it out of the package it comes in is a f***ing buck knife. The sh*t doesn't tear, it doesn't bend, and, whoever came up with it decided to solder the two halves together to make it nearly impossible to rip or separate at the seams! It's f***ing ridiculous!

Inventing crap like this must be how the parking lot design guy spends his free time. Luckily, I spend my free time filling up socks with AA batteries - that is, when I can get them out of the f***ing package - just for guys like that.

Hey a&@hole, it's a Chrysler, not a Ferrari.

You know who you are. You're that pompous prick who thinks his Crossfire is too precious an automobile to mingle with all the other regular "street" cars. You're that self-centered son-of-a-b*tch who thinks his Crossfire is too dope of a car to abide by regular parking etiquette. Indeed, you're the dipsh*t who goes out of his way to inconvenience everyone else by double-motherf***ing parking just to remind us all that you own that oh-so-valuable Crossfire. What I wouldn't do to see your Crossfire get caught in an actual crossfire like the one from the bank robbery scene in Heat. That would really have you pooping in those stupid whale-embroidered a**clown pants of yours.

So, Mr. Bag - as in Mr. Douche Bag - do us all a favor and leave your ego at home and park your car the same way the rest of us do: next to other cars. And if you can't bring yourself to do that, either trade that piece of sh*t in for a car that can take a hit from a shopping cart or a stray car door once in a while, or park it out in the far reaches of the lot and get some exercise. Your fat a** probably needs it anyway.

WTFIGOW the guy who designs parking lots?!

OK Mr. Parking Lot Design Guy, I have but one question: What the F***?! Your name wouldn't happen to be Marquis de Sade, would it? With your knack for taking a seemingly simple concept and turning it into a game of Russian Roulette, you'd be the motherf***ing MVP of that family.

I especially admire your designs that simultaneously incorporate multi-ton vehicles coming at you from all directions, people walking around everywhere that are usually obstructed from view thanks to your krafty parking space configurations, crazy overhanging height restictors and, last but not least, stop signs that are not visible at windshield level because they're painted on the asphalt and totally invisible thanks to the front end of my car.

Of course, those factors pale in comparison to the exhilarating "human-pinball-machine" sensation I get whenever I enter one of your creations. Like a frightened f***ing squirrel, I have to look around spasmodically in every direction to make sure I don't get slam tilted into another zip code by a kid, another car, a rogue parking block or a renegade shopping cart.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention that catacomb-like quality you invariably incorporate...I love the part where I think I've found a way out, only to come upon more spaces and a curb enclosed cul de sac, teasing me with a view of the exit just over that beautiful, grassy, wild-flower enshrined barrier! F***ing hell, man!

If I ever meet you, I'll be sure to communicate my appreciation for all you do with a sock full of lug nuts. Of course, being a de Sade, you'd probably like that...