Sunday, May 27, 2007

And now a word from our sponsors...

As you might have guessed, the costs of maintaining a blog like this one are enormous…ok, so they’re also imaginary, but in my mind they are still enormous.

To help defray these expenses, it has become necessary to seek out corporate sponsorship and while I haven’t heard back yet from any of the Fortune 500 companies I’ve contacted, a couple of small but forward looking businesses have stepped into the breech. I hope you will patronize them whenever you can…

*I’ve been asked by the management of the Magic Fingers Massage Parlor to clarify that the “senior” discount mentioned applies only to patrons who receive a massage from Madge, who at 86 years young is their “senior” masseuse. They apologize for any confusion.

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Monday, May 21, 2007

The Jazz Age...

I was discussing language with my good friend the eminent scholar Monty Dingham Smythington…well, he was doing most of the talking…my contribution to the conversation consisted mainly in a valiant attempt to remain awake.

Anyway, he told me that while doing research for a book about the 1920’s, he had come across some fascinating examples of forgotten slang terms from that period. So, in keeping with the old adage misery loves company, I now inflict…I mean present them to you…

Crank up the Tin Lizzy: Meant either to start your automobile or to induce a state of sexual desire in one’s wife.

Like a flapper to hooch: This phrase could refer to a very strong attraction to something or the migration pattern of some unknown bird.

Don’t spit on my spats: I think this was either a warning not to be disrespectful or a literal reference to the ugliest footwear ever worn by man.

Twisting the Kaiser’s sausage: During the 20’s this phrase was used mostly by veterans of WWI and described either a great victory over your enemy or possibly a sex act performed by European prostitutes.

I’d like to Rudolph her Valentino: A statement of lecherous intent inspired by the popularity of the silent film star, this phrase was a favorite of drunken college students of the time.

A Charleston chippy: This could be either a young woman of easy virtue obsessed by the famed dance craze or an injury to the ankle caused by said dance craze.

zzzzzz…huh? Oh, sorry. Thank you Monty, that was enthralling, old boy. I can hardly wait to read your next book: “The Cultural Impact of Facial Hair on the Office of the Presidency”.

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Friday, May 18, 2007

Fans to the end...and beyond.

It’s no secret that merchandising is a part of sports, but it appears that baseball is taking it to another level. A company called Eternal Image has made a deal with Major League Baseball to sell urns and coffins that feature the logos and colors of all 30 teams.

Since it is pretty clear that Major League Baseball will put its brand on just about anything, I have a few suggestions of my own…

Condoms: If you’re not looking to add any new “players” to your home team, just remember to cover your “Louisville slugger” with one of these and it’s “off to the old ballgame!” Available in three sizes: Homerun king, Utility player and Batboy.

Fertilizer: Want your lawn to look as green as centerfield? Then try Major League Baseball brand industrial strength fertilizer. Made from the droppings of only the finest steroid filled cows, this crap will grow grass on concrete.

Ski masks: Baseball is basically a warm weather sport, but when winter comes and you’re ready to hit the slopes you can still show your love for the game by wearing a ski mask emblazoned with the logo of your favorite team. And if someone should decide to rob a liquor store while wearing one, well as they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity.

: Oatmeal and fruit might be ok for soccer loving foreigners, but if you want your children to have the energy they need for little league baseball, then pour them a heaping bowl of “Frosted Golden Glovies”. The cereal that’s 98 percent pure sugar and 2 percent of some other edible substance*

*“Frosted Golden Glovies” has been known to cause comas in children under the age of five.

Ah yes, crass commercialism…now there is a great national pastime.

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Saturday, May 12, 2007

A few scattered thoughts...

No, that rattling sound you hear isn’t ball bearings in a coconut shell, its just a few random musings jostling each other for space in the limited real estate that is my brain. Read on and I’ll shake a few loose for you…

These days the word “whacked” is used as a euphemism for a murder committed by the mob. In the 1940’s it was “rubbed out” (at least according to old gangster films). What I’d like to know is did they have a meeting to decide on this and more importantly, why do both terms seem to have masturbatory connotations?

To help out first time parents, someone should manufacture diapers with some kind of color-coded warning system. For example, the diaper might turn blue if it’s just wet, orange for an ordinary bowel movement and if it turns neon green, you might want to break out the biohazard suits.

Judging from the women who star in the shows “The Ghost Whisperer” an “Medium” there seems to be a link between paranormal ability and large breasts. Clearly, this requires more research…and I’m ready to do my part.

Fettuccine Alfredo, Eggs Benedict, Beef Wellington…I don’t care what it tastes like, food named after people just creeps me out.

I bet you could probably make a lot of money by using disappearing ink to tattoo people who have a fear of commitment but still want to be trendy.

Have you ever noticed how sometimes someone will combine two words to form an entirely new one, like infotainment or advertorial? Well, I think I’ve come up with one that could catch on: poshtitute. It would be used to refer to only the most expensive hookers available.

A word of advice to the GEICO company: in those commercials with the perpetually offended cavemen, you might want to add a few cavewomen or people might start talking…if you know what I mean.

Someone should find out if there’s a market for a Braille edition of the game “Twister

Well, I gotta run, if I’m more than 10 minutes late, my electroshock therapist charges me double.

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Sunday, May 06, 2007

Helping others to help themselves...

While wandering around aimlessly through cyberspace I came across a site called wikiHow, which describes itself as “The How-To Manual That Anyone Can Write or Edit”.

Among other things, at this site you can learn how to camp out in the rain, live with an elderly person or celebrate Earthday. Now, I’ve no idea why anyone would want to do any of those things, but disseminating information of dubious value is right up my alley, so here’s a list of articles that I’m thinking about writing that will tell you how to:

Housebreak a badger

Polish your uvula

Perform an emergency appendectomy using only a steak knife and a pair of salad tongs

Have your in-laws declared “enemy combatants” and shipped off to Guantanamo Bay

Turn your child’s old chemistry set into a whiskey still

Harvest earwax for fun and profit

Covert that useless old collection of vinyl records into a lovely coffee table

Iron your clothes while still wearing them

Cure a bad case of crabs with Tabasco sauce and sawdust

Cook a Thanksgiving Day turkey with a car battery

Well, I guess I better get started on these articles…anyone know where I can find a badger?

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Shaken, not stirred...

I was reading about Daniel Craig, the actor who has taken over the role of James Bond and it started me thinking about the old Bond films and how bizarre some of their titles were. So much so in fact, that someone who was completely unfamiliar with the 007 movies could easily be excused for thinking that…

Goldfinger is a comedy about the world’s richest proctologist

Octopussy is a porno film for people with a fetish for cephalopods

Moonraker is a documentary about smuggling illegal immigrants into space

The Man with the Golden Gun is a cautionary tale about someone who knows much more about accumulating wealth than he does the manufacturing of quality firearms

Dr. No is about US physicians who oppose socialized medicine

You Only Live Twice is about some kind of abridged, Reader’s Digest version of reincarnation

The Spy Who Loved Me is a CIA recruitment film

Thunderball doesn’t even sound like a film title as much as it does a really painful testicular condition

Well, if all that doesn’t get Ian Fleming spinning in his grave, I don’t what will.

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