(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding?
Mostly “Peace”, though I suppose “Understanding” is kinda funny as well.
Why Can’t I Be You?
Because you’re Robert Smith. Seriously.
Have You Ever Seen The Rain?
Yes, like a bazillion times. It’s no big deal, really. Hurricanes, though? Those suck. As do tornadoes. Let’s continue this conversation another time.
Can I Get A…
I’ll need a little bit more information before I can give you a definitive “yes” or “no”, Jiggaman.
Where Do They Make Balloons?
For more than 80 years, Pioneer® Balloon Company has been in the business of making Qualatex® balloons. Qualatex balloons are available in both Microfoil® and latex, in a variety of shapes and sizes. Balloonhq.com has a wealth of additional info regarding balloon manufacturers, if you’d like to learn more.
Could This Be Love?
I’m no doctor, but sure, what the hell. Could be anything, really. Maybe it’s mumps. Did you ever get your mumps shot?
Am I Dreaming?
Okay, good question. If you answer “yes” to any of the following ancillary questions, you are indeed dreaming. It’s a simple test really. Observe:
1) Are you seeing in black-and-white?
2) Are you flying? Have you been flying?
3) Are you currently making out with some girl you lusted after in high school?
4) Is there evidence of any extinct and/or fictive creatures around you (unicorns, dodo birds, supra-intelligent talking gerbils, etc.)
5) Any pirates and/or grade-school teachers? Note: The presence of grade-school teachers dressed as pirates is a sure-fire indicator.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Monday, December 12, 2005
Fear And Loathing In Midwestvania
The holidays are upon us. And by us, I mean me. I love the holidays. My jingle bells, they jingle jangle with mighty holiday chutzpah. They gong and gling with glee.
But then there is the rage.
I am not an angry young man. I may well be an angry "young-ish" man, but I am not an angry young man in the mold of Elvis Costello circa '77. Perhaps circa "Spike"...
But I digress. The fact remains that the holidays seem to bring about concerted bursts of angry behavior from yours truly. Profanities, guttural "urgs" and "yeargs", much noisemaking and chattering. Peppered liberally amongst my holly-jolliness and gift giving and getting, I find myself pissy.
That said, today I am a veritable globe of shiny, potpourri-scented happiness.
Pluck my berries, won't you?
But then there is the rage.
I am not an angry young man. I may well be an angry "young-ish" man, but I am not an angry young man in the mold of Elvis Costello circa '77. Perhaps circa "Spike"...
But I digress. The fact remains that the holidays seem to bring about concerted bursts of angry behavior from yours truly. Profanities, guttural "urgs" and "yeargs", much noisemaking and chattering. Peppered liberally amongst my holly-jolliness and gift giving and getting, I find myself pissy.
That said, today I am a veritable globe of shiny, potpourri-scented happiness.
Pluck my berries, won't you?
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
This is about shopping for toilets.
This is about shopping for toilets.
I just bought one, mere minutes ago. It's white. It looks perfectly fine. Functional. And this is what one looks for in a toilet, I would venture to guess.
It's something of a glum exercise, toilet shopping- a perfunctory necessity of our biorhythms. Somewhere between breathing air and buying a blender. No luxury, this. At root, we’re really looking for something we find aesthetically pleasing, so pleasing in fact, we deem it worth of being…pooped upon.
They (toilets) come in myriad colors, tank types and bowl shapes. Well, two bowl shapes that I could discern. Round and elongated.
No square, though. Odd. Now THERE'S a toilet I could get excited about.
All said, perhaps we select toilets as singular representations of our social strata. To the untrained eye, for example, a three-hundred-dollar toilet and a sixty-dollar-toilet look basically the same. The only reason to spend $300 on a toilet then, is because one CAN. If I feel like I’m the type of guy who should possess such an extravagance, then possess it I shall.
We poop upon that which befits us.
I bought a $60 toilet.
I just bought one, mere minutes ago. It's white. It looks perfectly fine. Functional. And this is what one looks for in a toilet, I would venture to guess.
It's something of a glum exercise, toilet shopping- a perfunctory necessity of our biorhythms. Somewhere between breathing air and buying a blender. No luxury, this. At root, we’re really looking for something we find aesthetically pleasing, so pleasing in fact, we deem it worth of being…pooped upon.
They (toilets) come in myriad colors, tank types and bowl shapes. Well, two bowl shapes that I could discern. Round and elongated.
No square, though. Odd. Now THERE'S a toilet I could get excited about.
All said, perhaps we select toilets as singular representations of our social strata. To the untrained eye, for example, a three-hundred-dollar toilet and a sixty-dollar-toilet look basically the same. The only reason to spend $300 on a toilet then, is because one CAN. If I feel like I’m the type of guy who should possess such an extravagance, then possess it I shall.
We poop upon that which befits us.
I bought a $60 toilet.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Inspired By Real Life.
A friend of mine, we’ll call him “Mick Hommarito” for anonymity’s sake, recently proposed to his girlfriend. The touching story surrounding Mick and his lady’s foray into wedded bliss inspired me to, well, this:
Cheers to Mick and his Bride-To-Be.
Five Bad Ways To Propose Marriage.
ONE- Arrange for a friend to telephone you one evening, then:
(rrring)
"Hello?"
"No, it…it can’t be. Yes. She’s right here. I’ll get her."
(to future spouse)
"Sweetheart, it’s your Mom. She’s dead."
(tape ring to receiver…watch her surprise!)
TWO- Feed the ring to a carp in the river. Then order carp at every restaurant you go to, as often as possible. It may take awhile to get the ring-fish but imagine her surprise! Besides, carp is awesome.
THREE- Eat the ring. Then don’t flush. Zing!
FOUR- Arrange to have her bitten by a rabid dog. Then, when she’s bedridden and weak from the side-effects of the 40-or-so shots she’ll have to get, spring the proposal on her. Boo-ya! It was a setup! If a rabid dog is difficult to procure, remember, lots of badgers, squirrels, raccoons and some hobos are rabid.
FIVE- Tell her you already have a wife or two, and that bigamy is one of the core tenets of your cult’s teachings. Ooooh. Looks like someone's jealous!
Cheers to Mick and his Bride-To-Be.
Five Bad Ways To Propose Marriage.
ONE- Arrange for a friend to telephone you one evening, then:
(rrring)
"Hello?"
"No, it…it can’t be. Yes. She’s right here. I’ll get her."
(to future spouse)
"Sweetheart, it’s your Mom. She’s dead."
(tape ring to receiver…watch her surprise!)
TWO- Feed the ring to a carp in the river. Then order carp at every restaurant you go to, as often as possible. It may take awhile to get the ring-fish but imagine her surprise! Besides, carp is awesome.
THREE- Eat the ring. Then don’t flush. Zing!
FOUR- Arrange to have her bitten by a rabid dog. Then, when she’s bedridden and weak from the side-effects of the 40-or-so shots she’ll have to get, spring the proposal on her. Boo-ya! It was a setup! If a rabid dog is difficult to procure, remember, lots of badgers, squirrels, raccoons and some hobos are rabid.
FIVE- Tell her you already have a wife or two, and that bigamy is one of the core tenets of your cult’s teachings. Ooooh. Looks like someone's jealous!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
I Am A Dog Psychic, (A-Be).
Have you ever looked a dog in its soulful, liquid eyes and wondered, hey, what’s that dog thinking? I haven’t. I am a Dog Psychic.
Much like a dog dressed up like a cat dressed up like a pregnant nun for Halloween, I have found my “gift” to be equal parts blessing and curse. There are times at which I don’t want to know what a dog is thinking and would rather concentrate on, say, eating my sandwich in peace instead of clotting my mind with swirling doggy thoughts. For this reason, I only dine at restaurants with strict anti-dog policies. And always away from windows, which naturally, dog thoughts pass through as if the glass were cheesecloth.
Regardless, like all great “gifts”, mine was meant to share. Please enjoy the below dog thoughts by breed. You may be surprised at what “Man’s Best Friend” is thinking…
AIREDALE TERRIER:
Think mostly about squirrels and their delicious tails.
AKITA:
Think in Japanese.
ALASKAN MALAMUTE:
Self-centered, so usually about themselves.
AMERICAN FOXHOUND:
Mostly think about dog food commercials, which they apparently feel are unrealistic.
And foxes. Always foxes.
AUSTRALIAN CATTLE DOG:
You’d guess Australian cattle. You’d be wrong.
BASSET HOUND:
Pipe smoking. At one point all Basset Hounds must have been pipe-smokers, and now they miss it terribly.
BEAGLE:
The Travesty That Is Snoopy. Beagles tried for many decades to assassinate the Late C. Schulz, always in vain. His work remains an obsession of the breed. Schulz may be dead, but anytime “Peanuts” is read, a beagle somewhere is howling in grief, baying at the moon of his incessant memory.
Much like a dog dressed up like a cat dressed up like a pregnant nun for Halloween, I have found my “gift” to be equal parts blessing and curse. There are times at which I don’t want to know what a dog is thinking and would rather concentrate on, say, eating my sandwich in peace instead of clotting my mind with swirling doggy thoughts. For this reason, I only dine at restaurants with strict anti-dog policies. And always away from windows, which naturally, dog thoughts pass through as if the glass were cheesecloth.
Regardless, like all great “gifts”, mine was meant to share. Please enjoy the below dog thoughts by breed. You may be surprised at what “Man’s Best Friend” is thinking…
AIREDALE TERRIER:
Think mostly about squirrels and their delicious tails.
AKITA:
Think in Japanese.
ALASKAN MALAMUTE:
Self-centered, so usually about themselves.
AMERICAN FOXHOUND:
Mostly think about dog food commercials, which they apparently feel are unrealistic.
And foxes. Always foxes.
AUSTRALIAN CATTLE DOG:
You’d guess Australian cattle. You’d be wrong.
BASSET HOUND:
Pipe smoking. At one point all Basset Hounds must have been pipe-smokers, and now they miss it terribly.
BEAGLE:
The Travesty That Is Snoopy. Beagles tried for many decades to assassinate the Late C. Schulz, always in vain. His work remains an obsession of the breed. Schulz may be dead, but anytime “Peanuts” is read, a beagle somewhere is howling in grief, baying at the moon of his incessant memory.
It's A Great Day To Be Alive And Sleeping: A Didactic Fable Full Of Blatant Moralizing -OR- Stories From The Soapbox, Vol. 1.
The Doctor owned many things, and he valued these things. His automobile, for example, was a late-model European sedan that was coveted both by his colleagues and strangers he drove past them on the street. The Doctor understood that few were able to afford such a car, and that made him feel grateful. His home was modest, but located in a desirable area, one where the standard of living vastly exceeded the norm. Though the Doctor had no family with which he could share his home, he looked forward to returning there every evening after leaving the hospital where he worked. It was a house of many comforts; a relaxing island amidst the chaos that pocked the Doctor’s life.
Creature comforts were hardly in short supply, as The Doctor earned a generous wage and had little need for money. Yet among the sea of familiarity he had forged, The Doctor suffered with that which every man possesses; he could not sleep.
This evening, as you drift off to sleep, think of The Doctor. As the embrace of slumber washes over you and waking consciousness is blotted out, take note of his life.
Poor, sorry bastard.
Creature comforts were hardly in short supply, as The Doctor earned a generous wage and had little need for money. Yet among the sea of familiarity he had forged, The Doctor suffered with that which every man possesses; he could not sleep.
This evening, as you drift off to sleep, think of The Doctor. As the embrace of slumber washes over you and waking consciousness is blotted out, take note of his life.
Poor, sorry bastard.
The Greatest Thing I've Seen Of Late, Vol. 1.
On the side of an aerosol can of polyurethane that I most certainly was not huffing:
"Causes brain damage"
So succinct. So honest. So great.
"Causes brain damage"
So succinct. So honest. So great.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Deity Superlatives
Most Popular: Allah
Best Eyes: Osiris
Best Dressed: Adonis
Most Athletic: Vishnu
Most Flirtatious: TIE Eros and Thor
Best Hair: Krishna
Class Clown: Huitzilopochtli
Most Likely To Succeed: Ganesha
Best Abs: Jesus
Best Eyes: Osiris
Best Dressed: Adonis
Most Athletic: Vishnu
Most Flirtatious: TIE Eros and Thor
Best Hair: Krishna
Class Clown: Huitzilopochtli
Most Likely To Succeed: Ganesha
Best Abs: Jesus
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Extreme Makeover Word Edition Vol. I
Brainstorming.
Let's face it, the term "brainstorming" is stale. It smells like so much fetid smelt. It is overused, overexposed and, well, over. Brainstorming needs an overhaul, a reintroduction into the American lexicon, a coming-out party to trumpet its rebirth. I took her down to the studs. I've gussied it up with some pancake, a string of pearls, new stainless appliances and, yes, a series of new names. Thusly, Volume I:
WITSQUALLING
Salty. Sea-bitten. Pirate-y. Thar she blows.
THINKBOXING
Vaguely sporty, like that Spice Girl who wore track pants.
RATIOCINATIONIZING
Rolls off the tongue like a mouthful of rice pudding.
BRAIN-NADO
A new brain-and-tomato-flavored beverage from the minds behind Clamato? A convenience-store's slushie version of an electrolyte-rich energy drink? The favorite move of intelligent Extreme-Fighting Champion Chuck "The Genius" Pullio? No, no and no.
HEADWORKING
Ew.
BISCUIT NOR'WESTERING
Chowdery.
THINTANKERIN'
This is what that geriatric hillbilly bellowed before he kicked down the conference room door and gave all your asses a country whoopin'. You though for a second it was Connie coming down the hall with lunch for the Team, but you were sorely mistaken. After all, she ordered like 45 minutes ago. A turkey club, hold the mayo and some of those salt-n-vinegar chips would sure have hit the spot after 3 straight hours of ideation on the Morris Project. And when the company pays, lunch tastes all the sweeter, "sweeter" being an odd description for a meal that is, by all accounts, salty.
But no. Ass whoopin'.
CEREBLOWING
Eerily accurate.
GRAYGALING
The noise those small, inconsequential birds make just before dawn? No.
BELFRYBOILING
Quaint. Yet crass. Like an adorable grandmother in a soda commercial.
WIGSPEWING
They opened up for Hatebreed. Bassist used to be in Breaking Benjamin. You know that song they play on The Ace (WACE)? I think it's called "You Beat Me Down" or "Bring Me Down" or "You Let Me Down"...something with "down"...no, not the one with the rapping. That's the band with the mean clowns. No, they have, like, frowns painted on instead of smiles and wear brass knuckles and they swear a lot. No, not on The Ace. That's profanity-free broadcasting. They won't even play songs that say "dang" without bleeping it because that's like the Southern version of "damn"...
Yeah, Wigspewing sucks.
CONCLUSION:
I suppose that, in hindsight, "brainstorming" isn't so bad...
No. It's bad.
Let's face it, the term "brainstorming" is stale. It smells like so much fetid smelt. It is overused, overexposed and, well, over. Brainstorming needs an overhaul, a reintroduction into the American lexicon, a coming-out party to trumpet its rebirth. I took her down to the studs. I've gussied it up with some pancake, a string of pearls, new stainless appliances and, yes, a series of new names. Thusly, Volume I:
WITSQUALLING
Salty. Sea-bitten. Pirate-y. Thar she blows.
THINKBOXING
Vaguely sporty, like that Spice Girl who wore track pants.
RATIOCINATIONIZING
Rolls off the tongue like a mouthful of rice pudding.
BRAIN-NADO
A new brain-and-tomato-flavored beverage from the minds behind Clamato? A convenience-store's slushie version of an electrolyte-rich energy drink? The favorite move of intelligent Extreme-Fighting Champion Chuck "The Genius" Pullio? No, no and no.
HEADWORKING
Ew.
BISCUIT NOR'WESTERING
Chowdery.
THINTANKERIN'
This is what that geriatric hillbilly bellowed before he kicked down the conference room door and gave all your asses a country whoopin'. You though for a second it was Connie coming down the hall with lunch for the Team, but you were sorely mistaken. After all, she ordered like 45 minutes ago. A turkey club, hold the mayo and some of those salt-n-vinegar chips would sure have hit the spot after 3 straight hours of ideation on the Morris Project. And when the company pays, lunch tastes all the sweeter, "sweeter" being an odd description for a meal that is, by all accounts, salty.
But no. Ass whoopin'.
CEREBLOWING
Eerily accurate.
GRAYGALING
The noise those small, inconsequential birds make just before dawn? No.
BELFRYBOILING
Quaint. Yet crass. Like an adorable grandmother in a soda commercial.
WIGSPEWING
They opened up for Hatebreed. Bassist used to be in Breaking Benjamin. You know that song they play on The Ace (WACE)? I think it's called "You Beat Me Down" or "Bring Me Down" or "You Let Me Down"...something with "down"...no, not the one with the rapping. That's the band with the mean clowns. No, they have, like, frowns painted on instead of smiles and wear brass knuckles and they swear a lot. No, not on The Ace. That's profanity-free broadcasting. They won't even play songs that say "dang" without bleeping it because that's like the Southern version of "damn"...
Yeah, Wigspewing sucks.
CONCLUSION:
I suppose that, in hindsight, "brainstorming" isn't so bad...
No. It's bad.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Tracklisting Of The Subconscious: The Charity EP
1) Do They Know It's Christmas, Because My Inlaws Sometimes Forget
2) We Are The World, In The Sense That Our World Is The Only World We Know, In Actuality
3) Feed The Children (Mine)
4) Change The World (To Be More Like I Want It)
5) Hope Is In The Air (As Well As Waffles...Who's Cooking Waffles?)
6) Gimme The Goddamn Waffles (Feat. Chuck D)
2) We Are The World, In The Sense That Our World Is The Only World We Know, In Actuality
3) Feed The Children (Mine)
4) Change The World (To Be More Like I Want It)
5) Hope Is In The Air (As Well As Waffles...Who's Cooking Waffles?)
6) Gimme The Goddamn Waffles (Feat. Chuck D)
Friday, November 04, 2005
Opening And/Or Closing Sentences Of Imaginary Novels I Wish Were Real.
I was driving my dirigible to the office when I noticed the mushrooms were wearing off.
The pterodactyl and I still have our petty disagreements, but we remain very much in love.
The last thing I remember seeing was the bushy salt-and-pepper thatch adorning Dan Rather's chest.
Tad was easily the smartest squirrel in the Navy on that fine day.
Great electric lights!
Sure, the monkey could hardly drive after all that tequila, but the beautiful sunset more than made up for the swerving, the odor, and the incessant "cheep cheep" sounds.
The pterodactyl and I still have our petty disagreements, but we remain very much in love.
The last thing I remember seeing was the bushy salt-and-pepper thatch adorning Dan Rather's chest.
Tad was easily the smartest squirrel in the Navy on that fine day.
Great electric lights!
Sure, the monkey could hardly drive after all that tequila, but the beautiful sunset more than made up for the swerving, the odor, and the incessant "cheep cheep" sounds.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Inside The Song: The First 25 Of Jay-Z's 99 Problems, In No Particular Order.
NOTE: A bitch is not one.
1. Inventing new ways to spend his vast fortune
2. Hay fever
3. Nets' C Nenad Krstic's free-throw shooting
4. Sampling laws
5. That beeping noise and finding out where it's coming from. You hear that? What is it?
6. Getting enough Vitamin D
7. World Hunger
8. Spam
9. Yappy little dogs
10. Inflation
11. Racism
12. Those Subway commercials and that annoying Jared guy. Are those still on the air?
13. Lawyers
14. Pollution
15. The inability to find a good eating apple in his neighborhood.
16. The Jedi Council Forums song parody "99 Problems But A Sith Ain't One"
17. His 3:25 meeting with the vodka guy
18. Jason Kidd's sore left leg
19. The pig character from the "Chicken Little" trailers
20. Taxes
21. Dental plaque
22. MTV's vision of just what constitutes "offensive" content
23. That Nas guy and his dissin' ways
24. The deodorant he's using burns and itches after a few hours and for 80 bucks, you'd think that little design flaw would be hammered out. Smells pretty good, though.
25. The Ascot Dilemma: Can he pull one off?
The answer to Problem 25, of course, is yes, he can pull it off.
Tracklisting Of The Subconscious- The EP
1) I Can't Do It Well (Album Version)
2) I Am The Champion Of This World And Perhaps Other Worlds, Too
3) Let's Move (The Hurry Hurry Song)
4) I'm A Fraud
5) It's Gotta Be, I Know It Is (A Tumor)
6) I Can't Do It Well (DJ Clue remix)
Coming Soon: Selections From The Bookshelves Of The Subconscious
2) I Am The Champion Of This World And Perhaps Other Worlds, Too
3) Let's Move (The Hurry Hurry Song)
4) I'm A Fraud
5) It's Gotta Be, I Know It Is (A Tumor)
6) I Can't Do It Well (DJ Clue remix)
Coming Soon: Selections From The Bookshelves Of The Subconscious
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
Game On.
Sometimes, we need to invent little games to amuse ourselves, no?
No?
Hello?
I see. So sometimes we need to invent little games to amuse ourselves. I favor word games. This one is a peach:
Take any of the following words and assemble them in 2-word couplings.
Thunder
Tiger
Ninja
Viper
Jet
Fire
No matter how the words are assembled, the resulting phrase says:
"Don't tread on me, pansy. I'll kick your ass. Right after my workout. To the extreme."
But then we add a layer. The word "pussywillow." Softens it up, eh?
Or add an adjective. Any one will do. Put it second in the coupling. Now you're foreign!
Or how about punctuation? Might I suggest an exclamation point or three? OR SIX! Then, adorn the edges of your word with evil rock n' roll lightning bolts. And maybe a pitchfork. Okay, the background should be foreboding, so I'll put some dark clouds in there. Cool. And I don't think an umlaut would seem out of place so I'll ju...
Sorry. As you were.
No?
Hello?
I see. So sometimes we need to invent little games to amuse ourselves. I favor word games. This one is a peach:
Take any of the following words and assemble them in 2-word couplings.
Thunder
Tiger
Ninja
Viper
Jet
Fire
No matter how the words are assembled, the resulting phrase says:
"Don't tread on me, pansy. I'll kick your ass. Right after my workout. To the extreme."
But then we add a layer. The word "pussywillow." Softens it up, eh?
Or add an adjective. Any one will do. Put it second in the coupling. Now you're foreign!
Or how about punctuation? Might I suggest an exclamation point or three? OR SIX! Then, adorn the edges of your word with evil rock n' roll lightning bolts. And maybe a pitchfork. Okay, the background should be foreboding, so I'll put some dark clouds in there. Cool. And I don't think an umlaut would seem out of place so I'll ju...
Sorry. As you were.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Surrealestate.
I love houses. Far too much of my free time is spent perusing the real estate section of the newspaper here in Midwestania.
Through personal experience, I have learned that choosing a real estate agent is an important undertaking, one that requires more than a modicum of trust. The agent is a marketer, their product your home. Some agents make for better marketers than others. The very worst make for good reading.
So imagine, if you can, my girlish glee when I stumbled across the below agent description of a gorgeous home in a desirable area. I would buy this house were I in the market, if for no other reason than to meet the author of this tasty prose:
“THE LIVING ROOM IS VERY OPEN THAT LEADS TO THE FORMAL DINING ROOM. THE KITCHEN HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH NICE WOOD CABINETS AND GREAT COUNTER TOPS AND A WONDERFUL VIEW OF THE BACK YARD. THE SECOND STORY FEATURES THREE BEDROOMS AND TWO BATHS ONE OF THE BEDROOMS IS A MASTER SUITE! SWEET!! THE THIRD LEVEL OF THIS GREAT HOME HOUSES A FOURTH BEDROOM OR A KIDS PLAYROOM. SPORTS FANS THIS IS A LOT OF HOUSE FOR THE CHA-CHING!!!DONT DELAY OR SHE WILL BE MAD AT YOU! YOU KNOW WHO I'AM TALKING ABOUT!!”
I don't know who this person is talking about. I want more, though.
Through personal experience, I have learned that choosing a real estate agent is an important undertaking, one that requires more than a modicum of trust. The agent is a marketer, their product your home. Some agents make for better marketers than others. The very worst make for good reading.
So imagine, if you can, my girlish glee when I stumbled across the below agent description of a gorgeous home in a desirable area. I would buy this house were I in the market, if for no other reason than to meet the author of this tasty prose:
“THE LIVING ROOM IS VERY OPEN THAT LEADS TO THE FORMAL DINING ROOM. THE KITCHEN HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH NICE WOOD CABINETS AND GREAT COUNTER TOPS AND A WONDERFUL VIEW OF THE BACK YARD. THE SECOND STORY FEATURES THREE BEDROOMS AND TWO BATHS ONE OF THE BEDROOMS IS A MASTER SUITE! SWEET!! THE THIRD LEVEL OF THIS GREAT HOME HOUSES A FOURTH BEDROOM OR A KIDS PLAYROOM. SPORTS FANS THIS IS A LOT OF HOUSE FOR THE CHA-CHING!!!DONT DELAY OR SHE WILL BE MAD AT YOU! YOU KNOW WHO I'AM TALKING ABOUT!!”
I don't know who this person is talking about. I want more, though.
Hunting For An Answer.
Why is hunting so goddamned funny?
I have no answers, only questions. It can be deduced that perhaps its wanton cruelty strikes a humorous chord, but that's too simple. Is it the camouflage? The "just because we can" sense of mammalian entitlement? The guns? Safety orange? No, no, no and maybe...well, no.
It must be all of them; a delicious mélange of Wrong that goes down smooth with a giggly finish.
Sure, robots are funny. And chimps. And a robotic chimp, well, that's damn near genius. But nothing does it for me like hunting. Not the act of hunting, per se, as I've never done so. No, the act of observing hunting, often second-hand, third-hand or via ESPN2 on Sunday mornings is what gets my goose.
And bow-hunting? Even funnier. I wonder why…
I have no answers, only questions. It can be deduced that perhaps its wanton cruelty strikes a humorous chord, but that's too simple. Is it the camouflage? The "just because we can" sense of mammalian entitlement? The guns? Safety orange? No, no, no and maybe...well, no.
It must be all of them; a delicious mélange of Wrong that goes down smooth with a giggly finish.
Sure, robots are funny. And chimps. And a robotic chimp, well, that's damn near genius. But nothing does it for me like hunting. Not the act of hunting, per se, as I've never done so. No, the act of observing hunting, often second-hand, third-hand or via ESPN2 on Sunday mornings is what gets my goose.
And bow-hunting? Even funnier. I wonder why…
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
My Beautiful Children.
"Whatever shall I name my children?" I often wonder. It's a question that alternately plagues and bemuses me. I have one child, so one down. But my countless progeny - the fruits of all the hot lovin' action to come- what will I name them? Baby name books offer little help. Neither do friends or family. No, the perfect name seems to spring from a little gland just beneath your adam's apple. I forget the name.
This is to say, I'd aim to assemble a list of names that are perfect for everyone, if by "perfect", I mean "inappropriate."
Please send them to me. Mom, please.
This is to say, I'd aim to assemble a list of names that are perfect for everyone, if by "perfect", I mean "inappropriate."
Please send them to me. Mom, please.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The First In A Series.
The Whistling Dixies: Complete Discography
The Whistling Dixies
Their beloved eponymous debut. Six men, six whistling mouths. An exercise in innocent, apple-eyed whistling. Harkened back to the time before instruments, when a man had to make his own soundtrack with what God gave him. A seminal smash hit. Kids everywhere sell their guitars and vow to learn whistling.
Whistle While We Work
The sophomore slump. Uninspired. Deemed “an overreaching, experimental quagmire” by Spin Magazine Whistle Critic Tom Landellier. Still goes platinum. The music scene in inundated with imitators like The Whistle Stop Thistles, Toot Daddy and the ill-fated boy band 2 BAD 2 HUM.
Colonel Tubaphone’s Fantabulous Whatchcamahoosit and Whistlatorium
Their magnum opus. Acted as the soundtrack to a film by the same name. A young William H. Macy was rumored to have auditioned for the role of “Pipper”, Tubatown’s Whistling Bootblack. The role eventually went to Matthew Perry.
John Seymour: A Man And His Trill
During the Whistling Dixie’s chaotic hiatus, reclusive founding Whistler Seymour recorded his first and only solo record. Recorded between historic PCP binges and orgiastic pork steak consumption, the then-300 lb. Seymour records this undecipherable “concept record”.
Heat-Seeking Whistle
A re-formed Whisting Dixies enter their maligned “heavy” phase. Tainted by rumors of drug abuse and Satan-worship. Most Dixies deny it was ever recorded.
The “I Whistle For Thee, Sweet Lucifer” EP
See above. Never released in the states.
Ain’t No Blowhards
Huzzah! A return to form. Critically well-received but largely ignored by the public. The single "Huzzah!" charts well in Italy.
Live At The Pig’s Table
Their only live release. Peppered with dynamic covers, including “Street Fighting Man” and “U Can’t Touch This”, where the WD’s are joined onstage by surprise guest Hammer.
Whistle Down Tonite.
For the romantic, lady-killing lothario in all of us. Truly whistling to make love to your lady by. A failure.
Whistling In Stereo: The Duets
Joined by Carlos Santana, Bono, Bobby McFerrin and posthumously, Nat King Cole, this release charts higher than all the other WD records combined.
The Whistling Dixies
Their beloved eponymous debut. Six men, six whistling mouths. An exercise in innocent, apple-eyed whistling. Harkened back to the time before instruments, when a man had to make his own soundtrack with what God gave him. A seminal smash hit. Kids everywhere sell their guitars and vow to learn whistling.
Whistle While We Work
The sophomore slump. Uninspired. Deemed “an overreaching, experimental quagmire” by Spin Magazine Whistle Critic Tom Landellier. Still goes platinum. The music scene in inundated with imitators like The Whistle Stop Thistles, Toot Daddy and the ill-fated boy band 2 BAD 2 HUM.
Colonel Tubaphone’s Fantabulous Whatchcamahoosit and Whistlatorium
Their magnum opus. Acted as the soundtrack to a film by the same name. A young William H. Macy was rumored to have auditioned for the role of “Pipper”, Tubatown’s Whistling Bootblack. The role eventually went to Matthew Perry.
John Seymour: A Man And His Trill
During the Whistling Dixie’s chaotic hiatus, reclusive founding Whistler Seymour recorded his first and only solo record. Recorded between historic PCP binges and orgiastic pork steak consumption, the then-300 lb. Seymour records this undecipherable “concept record”.
Heat-Seeking Whistle
A re-formed Whisting Dixies enter their maligned “heavy” phase. Tainted by rumors of drug abuse and Satan-worship. Most Dixies deny it was ever recorded.
The “I Whistle For Thee, Sweet Lucifer” EP
See above. Never released in the states.
Ain’t No Blowhards
Huzzah! A return to form. Critically well-received but largely ignored by the public. The single "Huzzah!" charts well in Italy.
Live At The Pig’s Table
Their only live release. Peppered with dynamic covers, including “Street Fighting Man” and “U Can’t Touch This”, where the WD’s are joined onstage by surprise guest Hammer.
Whistle Down Tonite.
For the romantic, lady-killing lothario in all of us. Truly whistling to make love to your lady by. A failure.
Whistling In Stereo: The Duets
Joined by Carlos Santana, Bono, Bobby McFerrin and posthumously, Nat King Cole, this release charts higher than all the other WD records combined.
What's next for Penticton, British Columbia's favorite sons? Only the fickle public's waning fascination with whistling can say.
Monday, October 24, 2005
The Weather.
Let's discuss the weather, shall we?
It's getting colder here in the "Methbasket Of America" and winter is just around the corner. It makes a man want to think about the holiday season. This applies to me as well. With that in mind, I present a holly-jolly holiday piece written last year.
HOLIDAY DISHES INSPIRED BY TURDUCKEN WITH SERVING SUGGESTIONS.
PHESARUAB
A tender young squab stuffed inside a juicy partridge, then placed within a mouth-watering pheasant. Serving suggestion: Place a hat on the pheasant. Call it “The Grand Duke”.
TURX! XTREME TURKEY
A wild turkey crammed into an even wilder turkey, slammed full of pop rocks and Mountain Dew. Serving suggestion: Shout constantly. Wear snowboarding goggles.
TURDUCKHAM
A luscious chicken inserted into a fat duck, then placed inside a roasted pig. Note: The pig should be chewing spearmint gum. For flavor. Serving suggestion: Bring a pack of spearmint gum to the table post-meal. Say something like, “Hey! Who stole a piece of my gum?” Act surprised to find it in the pig’s mouth.
NAUGHTY CURSTACHAFF
A churlish little chiff-chaff smoked and inserted into a delectable starling, then slotted into the cavity of a naughty, naughty curlew. Serving suggestion: Spank the bird before carving.
EMLINBOB
18 fresh young bobwhites inserted into the respective cavities of 6 succulent francolins, then lovingly placed inside an emu. Serving suggestion: Obscure the emu’s adorable face. That just makes things easier.
RUSSIAN NESTING PIGS
Just like those Russian nesting dolls, but replace “dolls” with “pigs” and “Russian” with “roasted”. Serving suggestion: Everyone loves those furry Russian hats.
This.
The Depository sheepishly presents This, a piece from last year. A piece of what, you ask? Peanut brittle. Now go eat it.
The City Project
BUILD YOUR BUSINESS, REPUTATION AND BRAND AWARENESS
You are invited to build all these things and more, by building upon one of the most innovative corporate sponsorship opportunities in America -- The City Project. There has never been a more opportune time to give your corporation unparalleled access to city denizens, the coveted suburban demographic, local and national media and the hottest names in populous areas.
This is a rare prospect. We encourage you to peruse the success stories delineated below and join the City Project. Realize the full potential of your business. Build on the best.
INDYCRANAPPLEIS
Ocean Spray came to the City Project with a conundrum. How do we reach Middle America's thirsty masses? The answer was nestled only 200 miles from Chicago and 220 miles from St. Loubriderm. A burgeoning metropolis of over 2 million, the former Indianapolis now serves as conclusive proof that everything can be combined with cranberries to tasty effect.
ST. LOUBRIDERM
This hardened post-industrial husk of a city became a bastion of supple creaminess thanks to a partnership with Lubriderm. Though still riddled with violent crime, even the harshest assaults of the former St. Louis now boast a "softer" touch.
BOCA BURGER'S NEW BUFFALO
In terms of American gastronomy, the "new buffalo" is beef. The new beef? Boca Burger, of course. This convenient two-step logic helped transform the former New Buffalo, Michigan, a sleepy burg of 2,000 located at the mouth of the Galien River, into a tasty representation of shifting dietary preferences, located, we hope, at the mouth of America.
LAS VEGAS! PRESENTS: LAS VEGAS
Combining the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas with the Las Vegas Tourism Commission's desire to market the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas was a masterstroke. Now the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas is as well represented as ever across a variety of mediums, thanks to the Las Vegas Tourism Commission.
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT TUCSON
Once known as Tucson, Arizona, this sun-dappled metropolis was a natural fit for popular margarine brand I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. I Can't Believe It's Not Tucson represents what we at the City Project call "an organic amalgamation" between brand and locale. The parallels between the two are too numerous and apparent to list here. The solitary discernible difference between the product and its marketing partner? Tucson actually is Tucson. Believe it!
Please note that the examples above represent merely the tip of the proverbial skyscraper. The City Project is currently pursuing partnerships with numerous west coast locales, looking into entire states available for sponsorship and even investigating properties on an international level. So be it in Tanzania or in Tanzania, Ohio, build the future of your business by building on the best: The City Project.
The City Project
BUILD YOUR BUSINESS, REPUTATION AND BRAND AWARENESS
You are invited to build all these things and more, by building upon one of the most innovative corporate sponsorship opportunities in America -- The City Project. There has never been a more opportune time to give your corporation unparalleled access to city denizens, the coveted suburban demographic, local and national media and the hottest names in populous areas.
This is a rare prospect. We encourage you to peruse the success stories delineated below and join the City Project. Realize the full potential of your business. Build on the best.
INDYCRANAPPLEIS
Ocean Spray came to the City Project with a conundrum. How do we reach Middle America's thirsty masses? The answer was nestled only 200 miles from Chicago and 220 miles from St. Loubriderm. A burgeoning metropolis of over 2 million, the former Indianapolis now serves as conclusive proof that everything can be combined with cranberries to tasty effect.
ST. LOUBRIDERM
This hardened post-industrial husk of a city became a bastion of supple creaminess thanks to a partnership with Lubriderm. Though still riddled with violent crime, even the harshest assaults of the former St. Louis now boast a "softer" touch.
BOCA BURGER'S NEW BUFFALO
In terms of American gastronomy, the "new buffalo" is beef. The new beef? Boca Burger, of course. This convenient two-step logic helped transform the former New Buffalo, Michigan, a sleepy burg of 2,000 located at the mouth of the Galien River, into a tasty representation of shifting dietary preferences, located, we hope, at the mouth of America.
LAS VEGAS! PRESENTS: LAS VEGAS
Combining the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas with the Las Vegas Tourism Commission's desire to market the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas was a masterstroke. Now the inherent glitz, sparkle and tourist appeal of actual Las Vegas is as well represented as ever across a variety of mediums, thanks to the Las Vegas Tourism Commission.
I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S NOT TUCSON
Once known as Tucson, Arizona, this sun-dappled metropolis was a natural fit for popular margarine brand I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. I Can't Believe It's Not Tucson represents what we at the City Project call "an organic amalgamation" between brand and locale. The parallels between the two are too numerous and apparent to list here. The solitary discernible difference between the product and its marketing partner? Tucson actually is Tucson. Believe it!
Please note that the examples above represent merely the tip of the proverbial skyscraper. The City Project is currently pursuing partnerships with numerous west coast locales, looking into entire states available for sponsorship and even investigating properties on an international level. So be it in Tanzania or in Tanzania, Ohio, build the future of your business by building on the best: The City Project.
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