Daniel Radcliffe the star of the Harry Potter movies is scheduled to appear in a revival of the play Equus and as the young people say, he will “let it all hang out, man”. Hold on a moment please…I’ve just been informed that young people do not say that anymore. Well then, to put it plainly, the guy will be naked on stage.It has been reported that not everyone connected to the Harry Potter franchise is happy about this, but I have it on good authority that J. K. Rowling, wearing a disguise and armed with binoculars, went to one of the rehearsals.It would seem that Rowling was very “inspired” by what she saw. So much so in fact, that instead of ending the popular series as she had announced she would, Rowling is already at work on a new book and has plans for many more, including these…Harry Potter and The Power of the Ivory WandHarry Potter and The Lair of the Enchanted MILFHarry Potter and The Chamber of Consensual BondageHarry Potter and The Magic BushHarry Potter and The Return of Queen Burningloins of ClitoniaHarry Potter and The Buttocks of AdonisHarry Potter and The Secret Shagging SocietySo there you have it, the inside scoop on the future of Harry Potter, but if J. K. Rowling should happen to ask…you didn’t hear it from me.
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Celebrities aren’t the only ones who go into rehab. Why, I myself once spent several weekends in the Minor Addiction Wing of the Betty Ford Center. The little monkey I had on my back was salt; I was using the salt shaker so much that I nearly developed a repetitive stress injury. Some of the other problems that people were getting help with included caffeine, video games and in one very sad case, Vicks VapoRub.We all knew that the other people there with “serious” drug and alcohol problems were always making fun of us…referring to us “amateurs” and “minor leaguers” but we ignored them and bravely fought our tiny demons.Although today I am salt free, it has not been easy. As recently as six months ago I nearly had a relapse. If not for dedicated people like my counselor (who I’ll just call “Rick”) I would surely have descended back into that white, crystalline hell. Here is a transcription of the late-night phone call that saved my life…A telephone rings Rick: (in a groggy voice) Hello?TDB: Hey Rick, it’s me.Rick: TDB? Do you know that’s it’s almost 3:00 am?TDB: Yeah, I know and I’m sorry, but I’ve hit a really rough patch. I can’t even sleep, the craving has gotten so bad it’s causing me to have these weird…almost erotic dreams.Rick: What are you talking about?TDB: Ok, take the last one for instance. I was walking away from the smoldering ruins of an ancient city when I run smack into Lot’s wife…Rick: Wait, you mean that woman from the bible who was turned into a pillar of salt?TDB: Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, there she was, a beautiful, female shaped block of salt glittering in the sun…Rick: Well, that doesn’t really sound all that erotic…TDB: That’s because I haven’t told you about the licking yet…Rick: Ok, Ok! I get the picture!TDB: If you think that’s freaky you should have seen who was in my dream the night before. Do you that girl on the Morton Salt label?Rick: Uh…yes…TDB: Her mother.Rick: Well, that’s a relief.TDB: I’m an addict Rick…not a pervert.Rick: Yeah, ok. Look, have you got any Mrs. Dash in your apartment?TDB: I always do.Rick: Good, that should get you through the what’s left of the night. Come by my office around 7:00 and we’ll talk then. Alright?TDB: Thanks Rick, by the way, did you hear about Freddy?Rick: The guy with the NyQuil problem? Did he fall off the wagon again?TDB: Big time. After binging for three days he stopped by a pharmacy to buy more and he tried to pay for it with those “coins” you get at Chuck E. Cheese’s.Rick: Listen, just because Freddy had a relapse doesn’t mean you will. I’ll see you in the morning.TDB: Goodnight Rick.So I hung up the phone and somehow made it through the night. Thankfully, there haven’t been any close calls since then. I’m working on a screenplay based on my experiences. It will be called either “The Devil’s Condiment” or “Please Pass the Salt…to Someone Else!”…I might even make it a musical.Listed on
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And what a week it was. It seems as though not only nature, but the entire world is out to show me that reality is just weirder (not to mention funnier) than anything I can make up. Take for example the following genuine news items…RIVERSIDE, Calif. - An exotic animal with a long snout, bear-like claws and a tail like a raccoon scared the heck out of some narcotics investigators searching a home for drugs.It was eventually identified as a coatimundi, usually found in the forests of Central and South America.Possessing a coatimundi is illegal in California without a license. Fish and game official Kyle Chang said the animal's owner, 29-year-old Norman James Vollan, will have to give it up to a zoo or to someone with an exotic animal license. He "was pretty much crying in jail" when he learned he would lose his coatimundi, Chang said.Now, I’m no expert on these matters, but I really believe that having to explain to your fellow inmates that you’re crying because someone took your coatimundi…is not a good thing.WHITE PLAINS, NY - A man who was fired by IBM for visiting an adult chat room during the workday is suing the company for $5 million, claiming he is an Internet addict who “deserves treatment and sympathy rather than dismissal.”Then with all the solemn dignity he could muster, he pulled his pants up from around his ankles and left the building.PETA red in face over TV lobster treatmentPeople for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is boiling mad over a recent episode of "Iron Chef" in which Graham Bowles ripped the tails off two lobsters.PETA members protested in front of the Food Network's Chelsea offices yesterday. One demonstrator dressed as a giant lobster held a sign reading: "Iron Chef Mean Cuisine."Where’s a giant pot of boiling water when you really need it?Pennsylvania chocolate maker Hershey is moving a bigger chunk of its production to Mexico, officials said yesterday. The company said it will cut 1,500 jobs and close some plants"Whenever they move something out the country, that's not good news," said Dennis Bomberger, of Chocolate Workers Local 464.As of yet there has been no comment from the Lollipop Guild.
Peanut butter & a jam in salmonella outbreakPeter Pan peanut butter got the hook from New York store shelves yesterday after the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention linked it to nearly 300 salmonella poisoning cases nationwide. Mmm…peanut butter and salmonella sandwiches. Just like momma used to make!Oh well, at least I’ll always have snide comments to fall back on.Listed on
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From time to time on this blog I’ve offered up a glimpse at some of the blossoms that can be found on my family tree.Today I take a fond look back at an uncle of mine who was a “beatnik poet” back in the 1950’s. His real name was Willard, but he always insisted on being called “Turk”. My siblings and I just referred to him as “Uncle Ashy”, because he was constantly chain smoking contraband Canadian cigarettes.Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg called him "Captain Oregano" because of the really crappy marijuana he was always trying to sell them. In an interview many years later, Ginsberg would say of my uncle: “Turk who?”To give you just an idea of my uncle's work here are just a few titles from his “oeuvre”…Atomic Bongos
Straight Out of Squaresville
You Couldn’t Dig Me with A Shovel, Daddy-O
Black Beret Blues
Love Poems, For Like…Real Gone Chicks
Thumb and Thumber: A Hipster’s Guide to Hitchhiking
The Smoldering GoateeUnfortunately, uncle Ashy never got around to actually writing those books…or any others for that matter. His entire literary output consists of this single poem...Coffeehouse LamentThe sax is blowin’ hotCups and saucers rattle aroundLike old arthritic bonesClickity Clack…Clickity Clack!Even “Mary Jane” is making the sceneWhen in busts the fuzz to douse her fiery kissLike an ice water enemaSplish, Splash…Splish, Splash!
Well, the fifties gave way to the sixties and my uncle tried to keep pace with the changing times. Sadly, before he cold find his place in this new counter culture, he was killed in a tie-dying accident in Jerry Garcia’s basement.Uncle Ashy was of course, cremated. It just seemed so fitting that his earthly remains should be transformed into the very substance we most associated him with…it’s like, almost poetic, daddy-o.
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Of all the different, quasi-mystical, pseudo-scientific fields of “learning” out there, I find numerology to be the most annoying. Perhaps it’s because it involves math, which was the bane of my existence all through school.However, lately I’ve been wondering if I’ve been too hasty in my judgement. After all Jim Carrey has taken the trouble to make a movie about it. Remember, this is the same actor who probed the deepest theological and metaphysical questions of our time in his film “Bruce Almighty”.So, with your indulgence, I thought I’d dabble in a little numerological study of my own. Let’s start with the year that we are now in, 2007. If you add the first and last digits you get 9. Now, 9 is the number of calories that the average fashion model consumes in a month. There are 4 weeks in a month and 52 weeks in a year. 52 plus 4 equals 56, which also happens to be the combined IQ scores of the TV executives who thought that the “Tony Danza” show was a good idea. But wait, there’s more…Tony Danza was a cast member on a show called “Taxi” that went on the air in 1978. If you multiply 19 by 78 you get 1,482 which is the number of times that I’ve overheard someone singing the song “Fergalicious” in the last 36 hours. If you divide 36 by 2 you get 18, which is exactly how old that young woman claimed to be on the night the police keep interrogating me about.Fascinating, isn’t it? Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get this information to my lawyer and find out if it’s admissible in court. If not, I have a feeling that the numbers 10 to 20 could be looming large in my future. Bruce Almighty don’t fail me now!
*The Drive-by Blogger assumes no responsibility for any errors in the complex mathematical computations contained in this post.
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Not long after I started this blog, Donald Trump was involved in a public feud with Martha Stewart. In recent weeks he has been involved in a public feud with Rosie O’Donnell. Both feuds brought plenty of the media attention that he desperately seems to crave.As a result, my sources tell me that “The Donald” has decided to carry this even further by hosting a TV show in which a psychic will channel the spirits of famous women from the past and Trump will attempt to start feuds with them.
Thanks to my connection to a well placed mole in the Trump organization (by the way, I don’t mean a person, I mean a literal mole on the back of Trump’s neck. It talks to me whenever I’ve swallowed enough cough syrup) I have obtained the following excerpts from the first show. Have a look at what the “hardest working comb-over in show business” had to say to these well known women… To Cleopatra: “Great Queen of Egypt my ass. If it wasn’t for the fact that you were boinking both Julius Caesar and Marc Antony, no one would even remember you. And what’s the deal with committing suicide by snakebite? Only a loser would die from that. I pour snake venom on my cereal every morning just for fun. If I ever wanted to end my life I’d just force my heart to stop beating with the sheer force of my will power…that’s how a person with class commits suicide.”To Eleanor Roosevelt: “Its called dentistry, Eleanor and you should have looked into it when your husband was president. No one wants a first lady who looks like she’s part beaver…speaking of which, I read some of your letters to Lorena Hickok. Pretty hot stuff for the time, did FDR know that you were a “Friend of Rosie”? That’s a euphemism for lesbian that I just came up with, soon everybody will be using it…it’s gonna be huge.”To Eve: “Way to go and get all of humanity kicked out of paradise. An entire garden of great things to eat and you have to go sink your teeth into the only forbidden piece of fruit in the whole frickin’ place. If I had been in Adam’s shoes, and I would have made a pair of shoes out of that stupid serpent, I would have negotiated a deal with God for a younger and better-looking woman…that hates fruit."To Helen of Troy: “The face that launched a thousand ships? Yeah, in the opposite direction. Trust me sweetheart, you wouldn't stand a chance against any of the girls in my highly successful and popular beauty pageant. Ok, so maybe it’s true that no one really knows what you looked like, but my gut instinct…the same gut instinct that has made me one of the most successful people on earth, tells me you probably looked liked seven miles of bad road."To Susan B. Anthony: “ Suffragette? More like insufferable. Listen, the Susan B. Anthony dollar was a disaster. Most people kept confusing it with the quarter. When my face is eventually put on a coin it will be unmistakable. It will be large, made of solid gold and have a full frontal portrait, none of this just a profile crap.”There’s also a rumor that Donald is writing a book called “The Art of the Celebrity Feud”. Look for it in a trash can near you.Listed on
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As we all know, nature can be both beautiful and horrifying, serene and chaotic, insouciant but not pretentious…no wait, that last one actually describes a bottle of wine someone gave me yesterday. Where was I going with this again? Oh yes, now I remember…nature is also full of surprises.Once again I find myself amazed by some aspect of nature heretofore unknown to me. This time the spotlight falls on the seemingly common place cockroach. Like most people I’ve heard about how they would inherit the earth if humanity should destroy itself with nuclear weapons and that they can eat anything from glue to hair.What I was unaware of though, is the fact that cockroaches can live for anywhere from a week to a month…without their heads! Granted, the headless cockroaches don’t do much and I’m guessing that the severed heads do even less, but come on…a month without a head? Can you imagine if humans shared this little trait? For starters, the French Revolution would have taken much longer to get through.Anyway, from the bowels of my over-active imagination, I present to you the tale of one unfortunate cockroach that met such a fate…Setting: Two cockroaches walking on a kitchen table encounter a third.First cockroach: Hey this guy looks kind of familiar, but I’m drawing a blank on the name.Second cockroach: Maybe that’s because he’s got no head.First cockroach: That’s it! I knew something wasn’t quite right.Third cockroach: You guys are both idiots.First cockroach: Who said that?Third cockroach: Down here.First cockroach: Hey, it’s Tony! What happened to you dude?Third cockroach: I was trying to eat the glue on the flap of that envelope over there, when I slipped and fell neck first on to the edge of the flap…lopped my head clean off.Second cockroach: Oh, a paper cut…they’re the worst kind.First cockroach: I’ve heard that! So…how long have you been here?Third cockroach: Just a few hours.Second cockroach: Hmm…so this body still has plenty of time. Hey, since you won’t be using it, do you mind if I give it to my cousin Bruce.Third cockroach: Your gay cousin Bruce? You know I don’t swing that way.Second cockroach: (pointing to the headless body) You don’t…but he might.Third cockroach: No he doesn’t…I mean I don’t. Damn it, it’s still my body!Second cockroach: Well, I don’t see your name on it.First cockroach: (snickering) Or you head attached to it.Third cockroach: Oh, you guys are a riot.Second cockroach: Cheer up dude, it could be worse. It’s not like you spent all your money on hats.First cockroach: Hey, I bet I can kick his head into that bowl of peanuts at the other end of the table.Second cockroach: No way…prove it!Third cockroach: What?!(First cockroach steps back and kicks with all its might)Third cockroach: ( his voice growing fainter as his head sails through the air) You guys suck!Second cockroach: Unbelievable, it just made it in! First cockroach: I told you. Hey, are you really gonna take this body to your cousin?Second cockroach: Nah, he and his boyfriend moved to Vermont months ago. Let’s just eat it.First cockroach: Dibs on the legs!Second cockroach: Relax, there are six of them.First cockroach: Oh yeah, right.No cockroaches were actually harmed in the making of this story.Listed on
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When I read that Karl Kemp, an antiques dealer from New York, had filed a million-dollar lawsuit against several homeless people and claim that “it was for their own good” I said to myself “Hey TDB, why aren’t you involved in some great humanitarian cause like suing the homeless”? To which I replied “Shut up and mind your own damn business!” I would have continued the verbal abuse a little longer, but I was already getting funny looks from the other people in the elevator.
Upon further reflection however, I realized that the voice in my head had been right. I needed to find a way to give something back to the community, but with my days already filled with cataloging my extensive snow globe collection, dragging someone into court was out of the question. So I put together this list of sorely overlooked charity organizations and their mottoes…
Al Queda’s Kids: “No child left unarmed”
The March of Diamonds: “Helping the rich get richer for over a century”
Dollars for Derelicts: “Because booze don’t pay for itself”
The Michael Richards Segregationist Society: “Give use money or we’ll stick a fork up your ass”
Huggy Bear’s Home for Retired Pimps: “Where our money at bitch?”
People for the Ethical Treatment of Bacteria: “Penicillin is murder”
Habitat for Humanatees: “Providing homes for the unholy spawn of manatees and lonely sailors…or would you rather have these crimes against nature living with you?”
The Bill Clinton Home for Wayward Girls: “Clinton not allowed on premises”
Save the Whalers: “Harpooners do it better”
The Annex Canada Now Foundation: “Think of all the extra parking space”
Nobel committee… the ball is now in your court.
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I am a lifelong urbanite whose nearest claim to a “wilderness adventure” involves running away from a couple of overly aggressive and possibly rabid squirrels. Perhaps, that is why I find myself fascinated by a television show called “Man vs Wild”. The premise of the show is that each week the star of the show, a man who goes by the almost comically macho name of Bear Grylls, is unceremoniously dropped from a plane or helicopter into some remote and hostile natural environment. Then with the aid of usually nothing more than a knife and flint, he must survive how ever many days it takes him to find his way back to civilization.As I’ve watched him endure the various hardships involved in surviving in the wilderness, I've often wondered just how much I could take…what would the breaking point at which I would just give up and die. Well, thanks to Mr. Grylls I now know…and it involves elephant dung.In one particular episode Mr. Grylls finds himself in Kenya without a sign of water anywhere, while the merciless sun beats down on him. Not to worry he says, because he knows an old trick he learned in the military that just might save your life in this kind of situation. He then proceeds to lift a large chunk of fresh elephant dung and drinks the liquid that flows as he squeezes it.Now, I have seen many other shows about people surviving while lost in the wilderness, but I had never seen anyone use that little maneuver before. Up until that point I thought I might have reached my limit for survival when I watched Mr. Grylls eat an uncooked egg straight from the nest or when he helped himself to a little meat from the leg of a fresh zebra carcass…but I wasn’t absolutely sure. Hey, maybe raw zebra meat doesn’t taste that bad.However, I’m sure that none of us are in any doubt about the taste of the fluids from elephant crap and the expression on Mr. Grylls face spoke volumes indeed. So now I know that if Bear Grylls and I were ever lost together in Kenya without any water, while he’s off having a swig of freshly squeezed Dumbo juice, I’ll be busy digging a hole in the ground for him to bury me in after I’ve died of dehydration. I only hope that he’ll bury me whole and not decide to dine on one of my legs…but I wouldn’t put it past him.
During the first month of every New Year it has long been my custom to fill up my favorite hookah with all the needles that fell off the Christmas tree, sit back, contentedly puff away and just ruminate on things in general. Here then, are some of the things that wafted through my mind on a cloud of pine scented smoke:There are a lot of cleaning products that talk about killing bacteria, but not one of them tells you what to do with all those tiny corpses.Pat Robertson recently predicted something terrible would take place in the U.S. late in 2007. Although he didn’t specify exactly what, my personal theory is that some evil power has started to clone Geraldo Rivera.A 67 year-old woman gave birth to twins recently…I guess the upside to that is all those wrinkles should hide any stretch marks. On the downside, if she develops an incontinence problem the diaper bills will be enormous.As computers play an ever-larger role in our lives, will emoticons ever find their way on to people’s tombstones? You know, something like: John Doe, Born 1924 :)- Died 1996:(Lately, a lot of my junk e-mail has to do with the importance of keeping a clean colon. I don’t know…it sounds like a load of crap to me.How about that case where a doctor is being sued by one of his patients over a botched penis extension operation. It seems that not only does “it” not function now, it’s actually smaller than it was before the operation. I wonder if anyone has bought the movie rights to this story…I can see it either as a drama with Sean Penn or a comedy starring Jim Carrey, either way it’s got box office gold written all over it.Every year the post office gets thousands of letters from children to Santa. I think it’s about time that the post office started sending back form letters in Santa’s name. They could read something like this:Dear Child,Thank you for your interest in Christmas. Unfortunately, we are not looking to add to our naughty or nice list at this time. Please feel free to apply again next year.Sincerely,Santa ClausNorth Pole EnterprisesTrans fats are actually being outlawed in some places…maybe I’m paranoid but can butter be far behind. All I’m sayin’ is that they can take my butter when they pry it from my cold, dead and clogged arteries.Here’s a little tip if you ever find yourself having to write one of those family newsletters: Get your medical terms straight! It turns out that some one who has that condition that keeps their blood from clotting is in fact a hemophiliac, not a necrophiliac. That reminds me, I have to go write a letter of apology to my grandfather. Have a great 2007!
The recent death of Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet brought to mind something I had occasionally wondered about. I’m referring to the connection between many despots and really gaudy uniforms. 
Yes, I know that these men like to constantly remind their citizens just who is in charge and of course they want to look as imposing as possible while doing so, but come on! Look at that uniform…if hell has a doorman, I’m sure he’s dressed just like that, and what is with the sash? Other that beauty pageant contestants what sane person wears a sash? Oh, that’s right…we’re talking about dictators here and sanity never was their strongest point.
Anyway, despite his valiant effort at sartorial pomposity Pinochet can’t hold a candle to the man that I think is the most absurdly dressed dictator of our time (although Idi Amin did give him a run for his money) Muammar al-Gaddafi, the leader of Libya.
Just take a moment to let the full impact of that uniform take hold. Hey look, there’s another sash and I’m positive that at least one of those two circular items pinned to it is a sprocket from a ten-speed bicycle. Not to mention, that scattered among the six pounds of unearned military medals he’s wearing there are at least three women’s brooches.
I’m guessing that they ran out of medals to “honor” Gaddafi with years ago, so now his underlings just run out to the nearest flea market to see what’s available. His heavily embroidered collar looks stiff enough to cut his throat…sadly it has yet to do so. Overall, I think if the “Good Humor” man had ever taken over a country this is how he would have looked.
I suppose the most glaring exception to this trend among dictators is of course Fidel Castro, with his simple, if somewhat drab style of dress. My personal theory is that the money other dictators would have spent on clothing, Fidel spent on cigars and special shampoos for his beard…viva la revolución!
What the hell happened here? I go away for a while and come back to find the comment section of my last post buried with spam. Listen spammers, believe me when I tell you that unless you’re sharing a cave with Osama Bin Laden, you can probably reach more people just by sticking your head out of your window and shouting at passersby, than you can reach by posting here.
Oh, and special thanks to Diesel and Jenna for stopping by and looking after the place while I was gone. Anyway, unlike a lot of other blogs this here wordfest was never updated on a daily basis (more like every three or four days) but for the foreseeable future I will be inflicting my thoughts on the blogosphere only on a weekly (I hope) basis. So, to kind of get back into the swing of things, let’s look at the search engine queries that brought a few lost souls to this blog while I was away… Casanova nude photo: given Casanova’s reputation I guess it’s not entirely unreasonable to wonder what he looked like without any clothes on, but that someone thought that there might be an actual photograph of the 18th century playboy is a little disturbing.Donald Trump well endowed: you know, I’d bet my last dollar that it was Donald himself who googled that.Three trannies at the pole: this either has something to do with an overcrowded transgender strip joint or it’s the title of the strangest Christmas movie ever made.Gallstone humor: ‘cause if you can’t laugh at a painful medical condition, what can you laugh at?Does Elton John wear a toupee: that’s a rhetorical question, right?Bare assed schoolgirls: what do you want to bet that one was typed in with one hand?How to treat a hunchback: why with kindness of course…hey, why not take him to see those tranny strippers.Tidy bowl man captain: well, it’s been ages since I’ve actually seen the Tidy bowl man in any commercials, but I thought he’d be admiral by now…the lazy bastard!
I believe it’s time once again to try to raise the tone of this rather plebian blog. So, with the help of some research provided to me by my good friend the eminent scholar Monty Dingham Smythington, we’ll be taking a look at ancient Greek mythology. However, instead Zeus, Apollo and all the other well known gods and goddesses, we will focus on some of the lesser-known deities…Epillitus: the goddess of body hair…no well-groomed ancient would shave without first asking her to bless their razor.Bocephus: the god of moonshine…as well as temporary blindnessCurdellenia: a demigoddess responsible for the creation of all semi-soft cheeses…her father was Zeus and her mother was an exceptionally attractive and lactiferous cow. Viagratinius: the god of rigidity…a minor deity worshiped by a secretive cult whose members were all older men.Crabbathemia: a woodland nymph said to inhabit the nether regions of the great god Pan…no matter how many lotions he used to get rid of them.The Poliplopous: a creature with the head of a sheep and the body of a goat. Considered by almost all scholars to be the least intimidating, not to mention least imaginative, monster in all of mythology.The Columnorians: a race of giants with very spindly legs and tiny feet. Though good natured, their tendency to topple over made them a menace to ancient civilizations and some believe it was one or more of these unfortunate beings that sank Atlantis.I don’t know about you, but I feel intellectually invigorated…or it might just be a head cold. Anyway, I’m going to be away from this here blog for a while, but I hope to be back in a month or two. So, thanks to everyone who has stopped by.TDB
I
must confess that Thanksgiving is my least favorite holiday. I told this to my grand-pappy, right before he was sent away to the Sunny Meadows Home for the Criminally Incontinent, and he said, “ It ain’t your fault boy…you come from a long line of ungrateful bastards.”Having been taught never to argue with my elders (unless you were sure they were unarmed) I just nodded my head. Anyway, I knew he was probably right, because old grand-pappy was as wise as his pants were wet.
Still, I’d thought that this year I’d look inwards and see if there wasn’t at least a little gratitude in me somewhere. So here is my list of things that I’m thankful for…The fact that Geraldo Rivera doesn’t have a twin.That I’m not a proctologist…my view of the world is dim enough, thank you.The VCR and especially the fast-forward button…I don’t think I could watch TV without it.Distant relatives…very distant.That I’m not burdened by incredible good looks or awe-inspiring talent…really, I mean, who wants that right? Certainly not me, so… thanks to whatever cosmic force or coincidental set of circumstances responsible for averting that tragedy.Well, that’s not much of a list is it? I guess my dear old grand-pappy was right after all…bless his moist memory.
Often, when I think people are difficult to understand, I’ll hear or read about something that makes me realize that they’re not…they are in fact… impossible to understand. Take for example, the story of several large 400 million-year old boulders that were recently dug up during a sewer upgrade some where in Brooklyn, New York. So, we’re basically talking about some very big, very old rocks, of no real interest to anyone other than geologists or some other scientific types…right?Wrong, because no sooner than the city had moved the rocks to other parts of the city (presumably to get them out of the way) than some of the residents in the neighborhood started complaining. Here are a few actual quotes:“The big one, the first one, should stay here with us.”“It belongs to us, they pulled it out of our street.”“What are we, chopped liver? They should stay in their hometown.”“It wouldn’t bother me as much, if they had a plaque saying they came from Vanderbilt Ave. in Brooklyn.”A plaque…someone wants a plaque to commemorate the day a few large rocks were dug up from the ground. Yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want that kind of knowledge to be lost to future generations. Any place else you’d like to put a plaque? How about that corner where you once found five dollars…or that alley you once took a whiz in because you didn’t think you could make it back to your apartment?If this is how these people reacted to a few ancient boulders, I’m just glad that no gold was discovered or there would have been bloodshed for sure.Anyway, despite the efforts of those passionate rock lovers, the boulders are gone. When asked about it, the president of the borough, in the grand old tradition of spineless politicians everywhere had this to say: “It’s flattering to know that everybody wants a piece of Brooklyn.”For some reason, I just can’t help picturing him giggling like a schoolgirl as he said it.
I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but recently there was an incident over at Disney France. A group of employees were videotaped simulating sex acts while in costume. The Disney Company, to say the least, was not happy about this but I think they’re being shortsighted here.There’s a market that’s not being tapped into, namely “adult” films featuring well-known Disney characters. This could be a gold mine people! Just think about it, the selling power that comes with the instant recognition of the Disney name, combined with the forbidden allure of hardcore pornography.The possibilities are endless:Mickey shows that he really is the “biggest” star at Disney when he and Minnie set the screen on fire in “Maestro of the Mouse Hole”.Donald and Daisy Duck head off for a swinging couples weekend where they show the world just how passionate poultry can be in “Pluck me…pluck me now!”Aladdin is back and this time he won’t just be rubbing his “lamp” in “Camel Humpers of the Casbah”.The Little Mermaid does her patriotic best to keep up the morale of the US Navy in “All the Young Seamen”.You read the “The Jungle Book” now feel the “ the jungle love” in “The Bare-assed Necessities”.After running into each other at Lilith Fair, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White realize that they don’t need any princes at all in the Sapphic adventure story “For Ladies Only”.Chip ‘n Dale will teach you to love your inner chipmunk…and then whip the hell out of it in the bondage classic “Beat Me Like You Mean It”.Even Mickey’s pet gets into the action when the ASPCA locks him up and he learns that a bitch isn’t always a female dog in “Pounding Pluto”.If those don’t convince those prudes running things at Disney these days I don’t know what will.
I don’t want to alarm anyone, but as I sit typing these very words the heat in the room is turned off, the window is partially opened and I’m wearing just a tee shirt. (Yes, I’m also wearing pants…can you try to keep your minds out of the gutter for just ten seconds)Even more astonishing, as I walked to the store the other day my coat was open and my usual cold weather gear, scarf, gloves etc, were no where to be seen. All this despite being in the northeastern part of the US, well into November. “So what” I hear you say. “It’s just unseasonably warm, there’s nothing alarming about it.”That might be true enough if you were talking to normal person, but what you don’t know about me is that I am the biggest cold weather wimp the world has ever known. At the end of each autumn I start praying to every major deity to grant me the ability to hibernate. I own more long underwear than the first three expeditions to the North Pole combined and I’m fairly sure that I have the circulatory system of a ninety-year old man. The mere mention of single digit temperatures causes me to break out in a rash and I’ve been rushed to the hospital several times after overdosing on hot cocoa.So, what could be the reason for old man winter’s apparent feebleness this late in the year? I suppose that I could have some sort of rare, mysterious and possibly fatal disease that’s slowly raising my body temperature, until eventually steam will come whistling out of my nostrils, right before my head explodes…but I prefer to think that it’s global warming. Sure, that would mean the oceans will rise and much of the world’s coastlines will be submerged, but at least my head will be intact.Look, I don’t pretend to be a scientist…well, there was that one time I tried to score a government grant to study the mating habits of women who work at Hooters, but my lawyers have advised me not to talk about that. All I’m saying is, you might want to consider investing in a company that manufactures air conditioners. In the meantime, I will keep monitoring the climate and checking my nostrils for any sign of steam…just in case.
Speaking as someone whose blog consists mainly of weird stuff that I make up, it’s always a little disconcerting whenever reality decides to remind me that when it comes to weirdness, it does just fine on it’s own. Take for example these CD’s available from the Collectors Choice Music Catalog:
First up is a three-disc box set of recordings by Tiny Tim. For those too young to remember, Tiny Tim was a performer of sorts, who would strum a ukulele while singing old songs in a voice that sounded something like a castrato on helium.Don’ t get me wrong, I liked Tiny Tim as a character and I enjoy a little musical weirdness as much as the next guy (providing the next guy isn’t someone who can’t wait to by this item) but a little Tiny Tim goes a long way.
This next item is called “My Rifle, My Pony and Me”, and although that might have made a great title for a children’s book from the NRA, it’s a terrible name for a CD…even if it is just a collection of western movie and TV soundtracks.The dubious musical value of this disc doesn’t end there because along with a few legitimate country stars like Johnny Cash, this CD also features songs by actors like Jimmy Stewart and Kirk Douglas. My biggest fear is that some Broadway producer will come across this and turn it into a musical starring Donny Osmond.
Here we have the Nana Mouskouri Collection. Now unlike Tiny Tim, I’m not familiar with this singer’s work, although I’m sure it’s fine (just in case there are any Mouskouri fanatics out there). No, the oddity in this selection has to do with numbers. As in the number of CD’s in the set: 34…and the number of songs: 673…and finally, the number of dollars this thing cost: $ 474!673 songs? She must have started recording ten minutes after Edison invented the phonograph. Who the hell has the time to plow through that much material…retired people…inmates serving life sentences? As for the price, I guess it could be worse. I’m pretty sure this set would cost even more if they were charging by the pound.
And last but not least is a CD of holiday music entitled “Christmas with the Rat Pack”. As the catalog says “Ring-a-ding-ding in the holidays with Frank, Dean n’ Sammy”. Yeah…cause nothing says Christmas quite like booze, cigarettes and hookers on the Vegas Strip.
The subject of death came up in a conversation I was having with someone…it might have been myself. Sometimes I forget to take my medication. Anyway, for many people talking about death is never easy. Which is why people often resort to euphemisms like “passed away” or “gone to meet their maker” or the less reverent but more colorful “kicked the bucket.”There are others but the problem is they’re all too general and we live in an age of specialization. So here’s a list of new euphemisms for death and the groups they’re intended for…Environmentalists:“Being recycled”“Shacking up with Mother Nature”
Sports fans:“Racing in the pine box derby”“Ejected from the game”
The hopelessly politically correct:“Living impaired”“Existentially challenged”
Computer geeks:“Uploaded” (if you liked them) or “downloaded” (if you didn’t)“Deleted from life’s hard drive”
Politicians:“Stuffing the final ballot box”“Joined a grass roots movement”
Musicians:“On tour with the Lord”“Collecting cosmic royalties, man”
Young people in particular have a hard time understanding this difficult concept, so for them I’ve come up these…“Hangin’ with the Reaper”“Permanent detention”“Doing the Bone Yard Bop”“Chillin’ in da Crypt”So any help getting these in to common usage would be appreciated. If I could only see it happen before I have my “appointment with the heavenly therapist”, I’d be a happy man.
Are you skeptical of modern day psychiatric methods? Is it your considered opinion that Sigmund Freud was a cigar sucking, misogynistic coke fiend? If so, why don’t you join me in my crusade to bring back the once respected but now discredited pseudoscience of phrenology.
Phrenology was an early attempt to assign particular personality traits to specific regions of the brain. I’ve heard that it also had something to do with feeling the bumps on people’s heads, but that might have just been a fetish of whoever invented phrenology.
Anyway, to kick-start this revival I went to see Dr. Leopold Von Nubbin, one of the few practicing phrenologists in the world. I was given an exam and if you click on the image below you can get a closer look at the results:
Well…it turns out my brain isn’t quite what I hoped it would be, but don’t let that discourage you. I’m sure your results will be much better.
Daniel Radcliffe the star of the Harry Potter movies is scheduled to appear in a revival of the play Equus and as the young people say, he will “let it all hang out, man”. Hold on a moment please…I’ve just been informed that young people do not say that anymore. Well then, to put it plainly, the guy will be naked on stage.
