In a shocking turn of events, pop sensation Madonna, best known for her hit song "La Isla Bonita," has weighed in on the Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez wedding.
Affleck is best known for his acting work in romantic comedies such as Forces of Nature and Bounce, though he's made forays into television, most notably as Executive Producer of the breakthrough puzzler Push, Nevada.
You may remember Lopez as a member of the "Spanish Flies" Latina dance troupe featured on the Brothers Wayans sketch comedy show In Living Color. She quickly made the hip hop into acting, however, when she starred in the series Hotel Malibu. Oddly enough, she didn't appear in her first big screen triumph, Woody Allen's Antz, at all -- she lent only her voice and patented brand of Dominican sass to the animated character Azteca.
Madonna, born in 1958, that decade of TV dinners, drinking rye whiskey, pummelling your wife then swapping her with your neighbor, is now an astonishing 45 years old. Audiences may remember her once lithe body on glorious display in the Abel Ferrera tale of Catholic guilt and cunnilingus, A Dangerous Game, but that body is now little more than a memory. In it's place is an over yogaed tangle of cords and knuckles. It's Sting with implants. You may remember pop star Sting from his triumphant turn in Brimstone and Treacle.
The ever-pithy grandmarm of pop with predictable insight and wisdom said, "Well, to a certain extent, they courted the media attention."
Analogcabin @ 2:52 PM ------------------------- To think he got this for free. Analogcabin @ 12:21 PM ------------------------- Is anyone really surprised that a wildlife filmmaker would be involved in the smuggling of exotic animals? Where there's smoke, there's fire, my friends. And as far as I'm concerned, being a wildlife filmmaker is definitely smoke.
Analogcabin @ 2:17 PM ------------------------- In CNN's latest report about the sun, the subheadline contains the word "salvo." Clearly they're just fucking with us now.
Analogcabin @ 11:21 AM ------------------------- Generally speaking, I don't read gossip columns. It's hardly a novel or compelling admission for a man in his late twenties, I know. I'd guess that the most common reason for avoiding them is an objection to the culture of celebrity deification. For me it's because I find the rich and famous smug and insulting. Only four sentences into this, it should be clear to you that the fates have erred in omitting me from the ranks of the famous. Imagine the torment. Reading a gossip column is like rubbing my own face in the heinous injustice of it all.
Analogcabin @ 12:31 PM ------------------------- It was just days ago that CNN ran what I thought was the image that would someday accompany this headline: "Science Wrong, Armageddon Upon Us."
Analogcabin @ 12:40 PM ------------------------- Today I received an email request for inclusion in what was referred to (in a spectacular display of overstatement) as the "links area" of this website. It follows:
Analogcabin @ 1:15 PM ------------------------- The most tragic thing about this is that no one noticed. Analogcabin @ 10:54 AM ------------------------- No news story that features this image can be good.
Analogcabin @ 12:56 PM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 7:55 AM ------------------------- If the utter inaccessability of my website and the below email received this morning from my hosting company are to be believed, some cabal of ne'er do well hackers is laying siege to my ivory fortress of genius. Try as they might to rend beauty from this world, they will not. I am a beacon of hope for the hopeless, a redolence of delicious ethnic food to the hungry, a covertly taken erotic image of Dallas star Charlene Tilton for the shamefully horny.
Analogcabin @ 7:31 AM ------------------------- I'm a regular visitor to a blog called The American Undershirt. It's quite good, and you'll find the link below and to the left, in fact.
Analogcabin @ 10:12 AM ------------------------- Finally, David Blaine has alighted from the crystalline cage dangling high above the Thames, satisfied that he's fully thrilled the world with his magical hunger and mystical leg cramps. As far as I can tell, the only difference between Blaine's last 44 days and that of the average homeless person is that David's box wasn't cardboard.
Analogcabin @ 2:05 PM ------------------------- The question is, if you're going hide this picture of Jewel getting her boobs sucked on TRL deep within the Metal Sludge site, why blur out the nipples?
Analogcabin @ 2:08 PM ------------------------- I don't want to sound irreligious (though I'm nothing if not that,) but I find the Pope's assertion that "God wants me to stay" a little delusional. By "delusional" I mean beyond how I think that anyone who thinks that God talks to them is delusional. Granted, I'm neither theologian nor sectary, so maybe I simply don't understand just how mysteriously God's will works, but slapping your main man -- a very public figure whose job dictates that he travel quite a bit -- with a wicked case of the Parkinson's, then heaping on some arthritis for good measure doesn't much seem like an invitation to stick around.
Analogcabin @ 11:10 AM ------------------------- I suppose it's a good thing that the Germans fly off the handle whenever anyone evokes the memory of Adolf and the boys, though I'm not totally certain why they do it. It's shame, I suppose, and probably a hint of precaution.
Analogcabin @ 2:33 PM ------------------------- Earlier this week I wrote about the McKeesport Castration Case. Well something strange beyond the prima facie strangeness just occurred to me.
Analogcabin @ 7:24 AM ------------------------- This made me laugh, and what greater gift is there than that of laughter?
Analogcabin @ 3:05 PM ------------------------- I'm not all that bright.
Analogcabin @ 8:16 AM ------------------------- The first lady of Maryland apologized for saying that, given the chance, she'd shoot Britney Spears, and this while speaking at a conference on domestic violence.
Analogcabin @ 11:58 AM ------------------------- I'm sick, and it's probably SARS. My throat hurts and I can't breathe deeply without sending myself into convulsive hacking. In this weakened state, I find posting difficult. It saps me of what strength I have left.
Analogcabin @ 6:47 AM ------------------------- Like so many tragedies, the McKeesport Castration Case has left me with more questions than answers.
Analogcabin @ 2:19 PM ------------------------- I received the below email just moments ago.
Analogcabin @ 11:54 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 8:33 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 2:29 PM ------------------------- This article describes the newly established US Office of Global Communications. In a nutshell, its mission is to improve the US image in the Middle East.
Analogcabin @ 3:16 PM ------------------------- Yeah. One time North Korea processed my rod, but I was bombed. Analogcabin @ 8:26 AM ------------------------- Perhaps I'm irritable, but I think the author of this piece, someone named Laura Snyder, needs to get punched in the fucking jaw. "Sexy Strategies for Making the First Move," as her article is called, has one thing going for it -- it's short.
Analogcabin @ 12:10 PM -------------------------
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Thursday, October 30, 2003
It's smoke in the same way that Pete Townsend's crusade against child pornography is smoke. It's smoke like Ryan Adams dating of Winona Ryder, then following it up with Parker Posey is smoke.
What I mean is that one's a pedophile and the other's days of writing good songs are over. You pick.
You say you went to grad. school with a chick who's writing her dissertation on the epistemological implications of golden showers? She likes 'em. You know a guy that wrote a piece for Salon about those creepy fuckers that dress up in animal costumes and have orgies? Start calling him Beav. You heard about a guy traveling Europe chronicling the exploits of an eastern bloc puppet troupe in sonnet? He's guilty of something. It's just a matter of figuring out what.
Good thing I'm around.
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Wednesday, October 29, 2003
Despite the pain, I read Whatevs religiously, and I find it difficult to express how much joy it brings me and why it brings me such joy. It's at least partially because it reminds me of Jackie Harvey in The Onion. It's also because I can wile away countless hours speculating on Uncle Grambo's sexual orientation. He's got to be gay, of course. But how can you explain the seemingly insatiable hunger for revealing pictures of beautiful starlets? You can't, unless he's straight. But he writes a gossip column! Gay!
In the end, it doesn't matter. My love is unconditional, though he tested that today. Apparently there's a new show on MTV called Rich Girls, and Grambo spent a good bit of space singing the praises of its starlet and self-professed "Producer," Ally Hilfiger.
From what I can gather from the show's site, cameras follow the antics of two wealthy 18 year old girls. If there's something I envy more than being wealthy, it's being an heir to wealth. And a young heir to wealth? There is no mathematical theory capable of counting the ways I loathe thee. And anyone that knows anything about me knows that, if there's something I like more than creepily ogling 18-year-old girls, it's unfairly abusing them verbally in an almost completely unnoticed public forum. These two girls certainly aren't going to be an exception.
Attractive? Whatevs.
Dee Snyder and Doug Henning? Obvs.
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Tuesday, October 28, 2003
They upped the ante today.
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Monday, October 27, 2003
Hello:
I would like to submit my site for submission into your links area: SeanAlonzo.com.
SeanAlonzo.com is the official site of occult fiction author Sean-Alonzo, exploring symbolism, alternative history, philosophy, secret societies and other areas of the esoteric tradition.
Thanks For Your Help,
Sean-Alonzo
Being just, fair, and without any real desire to write about the wildfires engulfing San Diego, or "God's Righteous Fury" as I like to call them, I decided to visit the site. "Why not?" I thought to myself. "If there's something I enjoy more than alternative history such as Holocaust denial, it's an author that 'explores symbolism' in an impossibly vague and utterly useless way!"
And who can resist someone with a hypenate single-name moniker? Remember Ann-Margret? I'd like to explore her symbolism, if you know what I mean! With my penis!
I pointed my computer in the direction of Mr. -Alonzo's website. Though he purports to be an author of "occult fiction" in his email, the website advertises only one book -- a collection of free and clear works he edited like Marlow's Faustus and The Tempest. That's nonfiction, at least the way I figure it. More than esoteric whatever and secret societies, it plumbs the depths of nerdy namery -- it's called Cryptogrammatron, and it's only available as an e-book.
I don't mind telling you that I just took care of my whole Christmas list. Thanks, Sean-Alonzo!
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Friday, October 24, 2003
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Wednesday, October 22, 2003
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Of course, I blame the guy I called a blowjob yesterday for all these problems. He should expect to be caught in a flurry of whizzing nonchuku when he least expects it.
This email is sent to keep you aware of the current status of your web site. There is nothing that needs to be done by you.
At this time there is an ongoing Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) attack that is being conducted against the server where your account is located.
The purpose of these attacks is to disrupt normal data flow in and out of servers and they are usually conducted for "fun" by unscrupulous individuals on the Internet.
These attacks are notoriously difficult to stop or control because they come from hundreds of locations and there are literally hundreds of modifications needed to be done to your server's security configuration to keep this under control.
We are working hard to minimize effects of this current attack, but you will see slowdowns in your web site speed until this attack is over.
We apologize for any inconvenience.
Thank you
Neureal Support Team
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Tuesday, October 21, 2003
On my visit today, I found linked a Flash animation in the style of All Your Base Are Belong to Us and the like. It's funny, but certainly not anything close what the kind of high brow kneeslappery you'll find here unfailingly, day after day. But there were 8 comments on the post (something you'll never see here because my millions of readers are intimidated, not that there aren't any,) so I read them. What I discovered was some blowjob named Drew seeming to claim precedence on the link. Really, now. Who cares?
I responded (as Bill Clark,) and I've copied the entire text of the message string below.
you should have a disclaimer... some of us are NOT supposed to be laughing hysterically while simultaneously trying to back pedal our way out of going directly to hell while we're at work!!!
Mia | Email | Homepage | 10.20.03 - 8:12 pm | #
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EVIL. and exactly why this blog is the first thing I read when I get to work everyday. Thanks- and keep up the good work.
SR | 10.21.03 - 9:09 am | #
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i don't get it. all that comes up for me is a photo of a house, all grainy and pixelated.
styro | Email | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 9:52 am | #
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I've said it before and I'll say it again: You ain't right, Mr. Undershirt.
Auntie Sarah | Email | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 9:56 am | #
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That is so wrong, and I don't want to be right.
melly | Email | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 10:03 am | #
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Who ever took my picture and did that is just a mean mean person.
Marci | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 10:15 am | #
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Perfection.
LeeAnn | Email | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 10:41 am | #
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as funny as you are, it surprises me that it took you so long to find that. i linked to it back in '01 and i actually had people trying to find tabs and posting the lyrics.
don't get me wrong though, it is a superb use of flash. maybe the best around.
drew | Email | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 11:55 am | #
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that was excellent.
kurt | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 12:34 pm | #
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2001? Frankly, I'm a little surprised either of you stumbled across it at all.
The story begins in 1805, some two years into a jaunt I took westward from St. Louis with an old friend, Meri Lewis. By that time we'd had moderate luck and lots of laughs, but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, it's hard to know a man until you've held him under the high desert stars.
But I digress. As we prepared to take the Lemhi Pass, our lovely little Shoshone guide, a sultry wench with a fiery spirit and magnificent breasts, suggested we stop for drinks at the quaintest little B&B. Well, the proprietor was a remarkable gentlemen, if a little fey, who suggested we join him in the main house for the evening. The three of us did, and I don't mind saying that we tripped the light fantastic. The wine flowed like water, and the air was blue with the smoke of the cannabis plant. O, how we danced!
The innkeep and I had not yet slept as the morning sun began to shine, though Meri and the Shoshone woman dozed in post-coital bliss. I'll never forget how the innkeep sang quietly as he stroked my neck.
"What is that song, sirrah?" I inquired.
"It's as ancient as the land, my little Clark Bar," he replied. "Let me show you."
He reached into the folds of his serape and pulled out the very Flash animation you've posted here.
"Take it. As a gift by which to remember this night of nights."
I was stunned, and I fell asleep with it held close to my rising and falling chest.
Months later, I lost the animation in an ill-advised bet with a Navajo gentleman I meet on the Snake River. I thought it lost forever.
You've brought me more joy and memories than you can know, and for that, I thank you.
Bill Clark | Homepage | 10.21.03 - 12:58 pm | #
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Monday, October 20, 2003
I'll set my cynicism aside for a moment and admit that I find Blaine fascinating. I'll even admit that I own his book (though I can't say I've read it.) While I'm at it, I might as well admit that I suffer from occasional hemorrhoids. To me, David Blaine is so much more than the latest in the line of model-fucking illusionists. I never cease to be engrossed by the staggering will he displays when unrelentingly taking himself seriously. I'm baffled by his uncanny ability to remain in the public eye much longer than appears warranted. I'm mystified by his ethnicity.
But, in my estimation, Blaine's greatest feat is his remarkable continued evasion of the clutches of bankruptcy. He continues to clothe and feed himself, despite that his career seems to consist only of staging spectacularly costly stunts with no obvious means of recouping the investment. Remember that fantastic pillar that he stood on for, like, 1000 days? That thing wasn't free. The refrigeration costs of the Central Park stunt must have been staggering, and I don't know what it costs to rent England these days, but after the whole Iraq thing, it can't be cheap. And yet he continues to amaze us.
As I am a big fan, I'm up on even his failed stunts. For example, the one in which he hoped to explode a commercial jetliner using only his shoe.
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Thursday, October 16, 2003
You don't care. You're going to click the link and not think twice about it.
Via Whatevs. Obvs.
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I used to throw lots of parties. Sometimes, though, people would stick around well past when I was interested in entertaining them. I'd usually begin cleaning up, turn off the stereo... that type of thing. If I could have given them Parkinson's, I would have, and I can assure you that it wouldn't have been because I wanted them to stay.
Pope John Paul II: "Thanks, God!"
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Wednesday, October 15, 2003
In this case, shame is probably warranted, but I hope prevention isn't. If a man and his dog could resurrect the Reich, the Germans are more iffy than I previously suspected. I mean, getting your dog to do the Nazi salute is a good trick, but not that good.
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Tuesday, October 14, 2003
e-Castrator Doug Lenhart
Match Game Regular Charles Nelson Reilly
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Monday, October 13, 2003
- Link via The Evil Twin Theory
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It's a shocking revelation, I know, especially to my more dedicated readers -- those souls that can't manage to see beyond my shockingly beautiful writing, compelling opinions, and almost freakishly oversized genitalia. But it's true. I'm just not all that bright.
And yet there are some things even a dullard like me knows without having to read an article. Take this, for example. I didn't need to read an interview with an armless pre-teen Iraqi orphan to know that he's pissed, and I could have guessed he's especially pissed at the guy who dropped the bomb on his house.
So for him, and for whomever decided this article was news, I'm going to go crank up The Gap Band's 1982 chart-topper, "You Dropped a Bomb on Me."
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Friday, October 10, 2003
The first lady of Maryland has the perfect NASCAR driver name -- Kendal Ehrlich.
Ehrlich: Good Skin Isn't Everything
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Thursday, October 09, 2003
Still, ill and not thinking clearly, I know that this is bullshit.
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Tuesday, October 07, 2003
That's not totally true. I have answers. Maybe they're not be entirely accurate. Maybe they don't have anything to do with the so-called "facts of the case." Maybe I haven't actually researched the incident, or even finished reading the article linked above. But my answers are good enough for me. And I'd be willing to bet they're closer to the truth than they are to, say, the plot of the next Harry Potter tale.
Q: Why would you shop for a castration on the internet?
A: Living in semi-rural McKeesport, Pennsylvania, it's difficult enough to convince your general practitioner that a tobacco, rhubarb, and brandywine puree isn't the appropriate treatment for pinkeye. Try to convince him that you're a long-suffering transgendered person seeking only love -- not only the kind of physical love that runs screaming whenever you lift your petticoat to reveal your throbbing Nittany Lion, but a love for yourself and your body that comes from knowing that a cock as thick as Tom Ridge's neck isn't mocking you from within your XXXL black, diaphanous thong. The doctor is slightly less likely to get the Swiss clinic on the phone than he is to call you a fancy boy faggot and kick you out of his office, still semi-nude. Therefore, the internet is the only option. Plus, it's convenient.
Q: How could you think that a $400 castration would be safe?
A: In McKeesport, $400 goes a lot further than it might in a fancypants big city like, say, Baghdad. I purchased my house, a four bedroom, two and a half bath Victorian with hardwood floors, full dining room and family room, rumpus room with wetbar in the basement, Jetstream -brand jacuzzi tub in the master bathroom, a sauna, a utility shed and small sweatlodge in the backyard, a Chinese garden with coy pond, a dumb waiter, and a dumb waiter for $279. When you consider that, $400 is a small fortune.
Q: How could you consent to endure castration without anesthesia?
A: Doctor... I mean Mr. Lenhart was such a nice man, and his hands were so soft. When he said it'd be just like pulling off a Band Aid brand adhesive bandage, how could I say no? I figured, how much worse could it hurt than inserting an eggplant into your ass, right?
Assailant Doug Lenhart: A Cut Above
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Monday, October 06, 2003
TO: mynevertoberevealedrealname@thespoonbender.com
FROM: matt@pedaphile.com
SUBJECT: soccer
So, the indoor soccer team I'm on is quite large, so we're splitting into 2 teams. Now, the one team is actually a bit thin on subs, and for those of us not prone to the sustained physical activity, subs are a good thing. Anybody interested?
The league is on Monday nights, games start anywhere between 7 and 10pm. The court is right off of North and Sheffield. It's co-ed, so if you know some gals who might want to play, pass this on. Cost is $650 a team, so how much you pay depends on how many folks we get.
Lemme know.
Matt
This is an invitation that deserves careful consideration.
On one hand, there's the prospect of becoming locked in competition with a horde of sweaty Sigma Chis, already angry from a very difficult afternoon at the Mercantile Exchange, and thereby reminding myself of why I hated high school.
On the other hand, it is co-ed, so there's a chance the aforementioned Sigma Chis will be joined by their buxom and sassy Kappa Kappa Gamma girlfriends and that, through some fantastic and bizarre happenstance, one of their uniforms will become entangled on, say, another young lady's... oh, I don't know... bra strap, and that both uniforms will be ripped from their sweat glistening bodies at the exact moment my amazing Pele -style bicycle kick flies past the lunkish netminder and a delicious glass of the Guinness beer falls into my mouth.
Even though I'd like to consider myself an optimist, I think the first scenario is probably a little more likely. Plus, it'd cost money.
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Initially, my thought was to write about Roy's troubles today, but Dong Resin said it better than I would have, so why bother?
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Friday, October 03, 2003
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Thursday, October 02, 2003
Now, I'll admit that I'm no PR expert. But I'm a patriot, and, for my money, that's qualification enough. So I submit to you, the world, my own idea for a US PR campaign. I call it, "...He's One of Ours." Enjoy the first example below. More will come over the next few days.
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Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Essentially the same piece has been pained over, birthed, and eventually sold to a dubious outlet like the Netscape Network by each and every one of the legion of Carrie Bradshaw pretenders that infest the island of Manhattan. These former Kappa Kappa Gammas will talk endlessly about the delicate art of snaring a sophisticated and sexy woman such as themselves, when the reality is that any guy capable of purchasing four Cosmos that doesn't have visible chancres has what it takes to receive joyless oral sex from these desperate-to-settle-but-will-never-admit-it women.
Nonetheless, as an homage to Laura Snyder, I give you my own strategies on making the first move. I think they're sexy, and I hope you do, too.
We've all been there: You're out on the town and an attractive young miss catches your eye. It could be the beer, or maybe it's the priapism, but there's a lion in your pocket and, baby, he's ready to roar. Before you do something rash that ruins your chances of catching an uncomfortable rash, keep these sexy strategies for making the first move in mind.
A Lost Girl Wants to Find Your Penis in Her Mouth
Whether it's an evening at the local dance-a-teria or an afternoon at the playground, you know the type: ladies that continually check their watches or crane their necks around as if they're looking for friends. It could be that they're uncomfortable being alone in public, it might be that they're actually waiting for friends, they may really be lost, or, if you're lucky, they're on something. In any case, these are the ladies that are most susceptible to sexy strategies, so sic 'em!
Be Mysterious and Unexpected
Even the most obviously disoriented woman will know a pickup when she hears it, so try to throw her further off guard by saying or doing something unexpected. For example, rather than approaching her with an obvious comment like, "I know this is forward, but you're very beautiful. Would it be OK if I offered to buy you a coffee?", try something like, "I could smell your sex from across the way and, frankly, I'd like nothing more than to chop off your feet, drag you off into the forest, and bury you in a shallow grave under a blanket of lime." Of if you're not the talkative type, try roughly grabbing her genitals.
Women Find Confidence Attractive
It's been said that women can smell fear. Or maybe that was dogs. Regardless, there's nothing more attractive than confidence, so project it when approaching a woman. Always stare directly into her eyes and try to avoid blinking. Also, stand or lean in very close when speaking with her -- sharing your personal space with her shows that you don't feel threatened. And why not try showing her your erect penis? Remember: it's not the size of the flag, it's how proudly it's unfurled publicly.
Be a Finisher
Any of these strategies is sure to make an impression, but some women demand the full court press. That's why it's a good idea to carry between five and ten doses of Rohipnol, a length of rope, and a kerchief soaked with Chloroform.
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