If it wasn't yesterday, it was the day before when I thought to myself, You know somthing, good lookin'? You're pretty lucky that your new dog, Gary, hasn't been that shit and barf on the floor kind of sick dogs get yet. But I didn't think it in a thankful way. I thought in a congratulatory way, as though my care of the beast had prevented such a mishap.
To be honest, I didn't actually think the ...your new dog part. In my head, I just refer to him as Gary. But that's neither here nor there.
This morning, upon waking at my customary 6 am for deep meditation and calesthenics, Gary vomited on the floor. I felt badly for him, despite that the vomit was filled with undigested grass that I certainly didn't put in his mouth and force him to eat. I cleaned up the mess and set about prepping the little bastard for a walk. As we two moved to exit the house, I spied what was either canine diarrhea or a couple of cups of chocolate Jello pudding spilled on the floor of the front room. I moved closer to make an ID. Judging from the smell, either the pudding had gone bad or it was, in fact, canine diarhea. I cleaned that mess, too. The task was quite unpleasant.
I've since tried to determine the possible causes of the dog's stomach upset. There's the grass he's been grazing for the last week. In addition to his own food, last night he had small amounts of cream cheese, pastrami, Velveeta, and Healthy Choice bread. He also had one pistachio. And now I find out that cicadas are a possibility.
Gary licking his nose, shown in profile.
Analogcabin @ 11:39 AM ------------------------- I think we all can agree that it's been a tough year for Martha Stewart, so I'm sure you'll share my relief to hear that she received a $500,000 bonus last year.
Analogcabin @ 9:52 AM ------------------------- Moments ago I was frustrated. You see, I didn't feel inspired to create the high quality racist, sexist comedy for which I'm known world wide and that you lot demand without payment. So, as all the comedy greats before me have done, I did a Google image search for "funny." Below is the single fruit of my labor. It's of the wacky crew of the University of Illinois Physics Van.
Analogcabin @ 2:43 PM ------------------------- Apologies to Grambo, but... REVEALED!
Analogcabin @ 7:10 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 2:46 PM ------------------------- Si hay un amor de la cosa yo, es "infamous rapscallions" de Miami's Los Vacilones de la Mañana. Estoy hablando de Enrique Santos y de Joe Ferrera de WXDJ. ¡Realmente, conjeturo que serían dos cosas que amo! Son simplemente el dúo más grande de la impulsión de la mañana siempre. No sabe mis ocho hermanos y yo podríamos aguantar las mañanas de conducir del callejón al callejón, llenando la cama de nuestra recolección 1983 de Ford del desecho hasta que su tren de aterrizaje ya aherrumbrado raspa el pavimento ruidoso sin sus chistes y "tomfoolery" hilarantes.
Analogcabin @ 10:14 AM ------------------------- Every time I check out CNN today the following question has crosses my mind: Is that a fucking nipple?
Analogcabin @ 2:56 PM ------------------------- Twice in the past week I've ridiculed high school aged children unfortunate enough to find themselves on CNN.com.
Analogcabin @ 2:47 PM ------------------------- I receive sacksful of fan mail. Here's an example:
Analogcabin @ 11:11 AM ------------------------- Mexico is a great nation. Its history and culture are nearly as rich as its food, smothered as it is in refried beans, sour cream, and exotic guacamole. Its people are often found seated against stucco-walled adobes, taking a siesta or nipping a bottle of traditional tequila, eyes shaded by a large, round sombrero. Other times they can be seen packed closely together with the extended family in a carefully preserved Ford Astrovan, enjoying the music of mariachis loudly on the stereo. These scenes are evidence of the Mexican people's deep love of life and family, their economy and their joy.
Analogcabin @ 7:14 AM ------------------------- 15-year-old Flavia Bujor is a best-selling author.
Analogcabin @ 5:19 PM ------------------------- Having recently seen If I Should Fall From Grace, it's difficult to imagine what led to Shane McGowan being being beaten with a metal rod. This article describes him as "wild-living," which might have been true in the early eighties, but the documentary paints a different picture of McGowan today -- as hopeless alcoholic unable to live without the constant intervention of friends and family. He's basically incomprehensible, has difficulty walking, and, all in all, makes Ozzy look like Bruce Jenner. In short, hardly a threat worthy of a metal rod.
Analogcabin @ 6:57 AM ------------------------- Reuters reports that today the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals rejected a request for reconsideration of a February ruling allowing scientists to examine the 9000-year-old remains of the so-called "Kennewick Man," and it did so justly and rightly. American Indian groups oppose the examination on religious grounds and requested the remains, found by some ne'er-do-well teenage excavators near the banks of Washington's Kennewick River, be reburied according to their heathen custom.
Analogcabin @ 10:06 AM ------------------------- It's only because I know you thrill at the ups and downs of my topsy-turvy life that I offer this brief review of Friday's Will Oldham show, and in reverse chronological order.
Analogcabin @ 11:11 AM ------------------------- One among The Spoonbender's legion of fans brought this to my attention and pointed out that, obviously, this is a cruise for rough trade gone awry. Analogcabin @ 7:45 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 8:19 AM ------------------------- Tonight, the Bonnie "Prince."
Analogcabin @ 6:56 AM ------------------------- Your parasol, your delicate neckline, your old-timey photograph... Miss Confederacy 1983 Lee Ellen Ferguson, you've stolen my racist heart.
Analogcabin @ 1:22 PM ------------------------- CNN reports that GlaxoSmithKline is poised to release a "racier, more direct" ad campaign for their dick-hardening agent Levitra. The first ad features the crazy-eyed and no doubt cum-drunk brunette whore below addressing the audience directly:
Analogcabin @ 9:01 AM ------------------------- I can't remember who it was, but some months back (I'm guessing in early February) some blogger came out against David Cross. As I recall (which isn't well) the straw that broke this particular forgettable camel's back was a piece in some magazine featuring Cross and John Mayer discussing popular music. I think it was Spin. Maybe not. Regardless, the jist of the argument was that Cross is much older than he lets on, and that he clings to his image as an indie rock comedian much harder than is warranted. And that his stand up isn't very good.
Analogcabin @ 8:00 AM ------------------------- Five hot years on the heels of the endlessly considered, lamented, and analyzed shooting at Columbine High School, the theater reacts.
Analogcabin @ 9:18 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 7:14 AM ------------------------- The University of Missouri at Columbia is well known not for academics, as you might hope, or for athletics, as you might suspect, but for its entry in the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest single day, single site blood drive in recorded blood drive history. The haul was 3,156 units of blood and the year was 1999. Oh, how they partied. Oh, how they danced. Oh, how they bled.
Analogcabin @ 11:03 AM ------------------------- Now, THEREFORE, I, ANTHONY M. MASIELLO, Mayor of the City of Buffalo, recognizing the value of L. Ron Hubbard's work and the contribution of the Church of Scientology, do hereby proclaim November 16th as 'Church of Scientology of Buffalo Day.'"
Analogcabin @ 8:54 AM ------------------------- Here's a story.
Analogcabin @ 10:42 AM ------------------------- Contrary to early suspicions, the cause of death was not embarrassment.
Analogcabin @ 7:38 AM ------------------------- Is there anything more hilarious and adorable with which to leave you for the weekend than a movie of a bulldog skateboarding?
Analogcabin @ 1:56 PM ------------------------- If I had a dollar for every time a 9-year-old girl told me one of the handcuffs was too tight, I'd have six dollars. But we live in a nation of laws, do we not? Analogcabin @ 9:45 AM ------------------------- I finally watched the finalé of Average Joe: Adam Returns last night. From it, I learned that there must not be enough room in Adam's roiling and foul maw for great boobs and those monstrous teeth.
Analogcabin @ 9:09 AM ------------------------- From last night's premiere episode of The Swan, I learned that it only takes a plastic surgeon, a reconstructive dentist, a personal trainer, a life coach, a dermatologist, an eye surgeon, and a therapist to make an ugly woman look like a drag queen.
Analogcabin @ 6:44 AM ------------------------- Another has joined the semi-famous has-been ranks of
Analogcabin @ 6:11 AM ------------------------- There's nothing funny about a man that, while in jail awaiting trial for murdering his wife and child and excising their hearts, removed one of his own eyes with his bare hands. At least, there's nothing Benny Hill funny about it.
Analogcabin @ 12:58 PM ------------------------- For some, fame means never having to make reservations. For others, it's getting rimmed by a very stoned Winona Ryder in an Alfonso Ribeiro mask. For me, it's being called an ass kisser by Hollywood's Honeypot™ -- Tiffany A. Stone.
Analogcabin @ 6:40 AM ------------------------- I'm not going to say whether or not I think the word "nigger" should be used in a school newspaper. Nor will I argue about whether or not a cartoon depicting "a goat bragging to a mouse about how he had hit a black person on a bicycle" is funny. But that's just me. I'm not an "issues" person.
Analogcabin @ 10:44 AM ------------------------- I'm guilty of a minor affront, so here the major retraction.
Analogcabin @ 10:01 AM ------------------------- The great Low Culture discusses Dave Eggers today. They ran the below photo, and something occurred to me.
Analogcabin @ 7:24 AM ------------------------- Lest you have any doubt that the Junos, Canada's version of the Grammies, is the music award show equivalent of the Arena Football League, allow me to reintroduce you to someone. He's a Canadian rock legend and recipient of eight Junos, including a Hall of Fame induction last year. His name is Tom Cochrane, and he's best remembered for the summer of 1992's feelgood, straight to car commercial rocker, "Life is a Highway." He's won the following Junos:
Analogcabin @ 8:19 AM ------------------------- So Audrey Sieler wasn't really abducted. Some say this means she's crazy, but I think the details lead to a different conclusion:
Analogcabin @ 1:00 PM ------------------------- I have no doubt that, if I'd ever lived in New York, I'd think TMFTML is the Manhattan equivalent of this. But I haven't lived in New York, so I enjoy my reading of the former the way I enjoy watching kangaroos in the zoo. Though Australians consider them annoying, I enjoy their strange pocket and way of hopping. Which is what I like about TMFTML -- his strange pocket and way of hopping.
Analogcabin @ 9:56 AM ------------------------- Analogcabin @ 11:31 AM ------------------------- I have but one thing to say to you, Los Angeleno Michael Todd Howard: April Fools!
Analogcabin @ 9:40 AM -------------------------
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Reuters reports that the bonus exceeded what is contractually guaranteed to Stewart by $200,000, despite that Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia reported it's first operating loss since becoming publicly traded and regardless of that the loss is generally blamed on Stewart's legal troubles.
I can't bring myself to make the joke about the bonus being paid in cartons of smokes.
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Thursday, April 29, 2004
If you're in need of more comedy than this, visit Funnsylvania or Mark Bazer.
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This morning Howard Stern revealed to listeners that he's been writing a blog under a fake name/identity. Of course, this means that Wil Wheaton's star power in the blogosphere has finally been eclipsed. Sorry, Wil.
Next, we learn that TMFTML is actually written by America's favorite smart and sexy TV jurist, Amy Brenneman....
Please speculate on likely candidates in the comments.
Actress, TMFTML authoress Amy Brenneman has ass checked out by shady-looking gentleman while walking the red carpet at this year's SAG Awards.
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Wednesday, April 28, 2004
The results of a CNN/USAToday/Gallup poll released today concludes that Iraqis think the US invasion did more harm than good, but was worth it. Specifically, the majority of Iraqis feel that the US-led ouster of Saddam Hussein did more harm than good. A majority also felt that the US-led ouster of Saddam Hussein was worth it any hardship it caused. Analysts were puzzled by the contradictory results.
"To be honest, I really don't know what to make of this," said Gallup pollster Clayton Schmitt. "Our sampling methods have been proven accurate time and again, and our questions are designed by experts in the field for clarity and accuracy."
Analysts at think tanks on both sides of the aisle agree that the Iraqis polled must not consider being better off without Saddam Hussein the same is causing good. "There's a disconnect here," said Center for Policy Analysis analyst Wallace Broom, Ph. D. "The results seem to indicate that the respondents are never going to be happy, never satisfied."
After an examination of the results, US civilian administrator of Iraq Paul Bremer was quicker to draw conclusions. "I've long suspected that these smock-wearing mud people are monumentally stupid. These blatantly contradictory poll results are undeniable, empirical evidence of it."
When asked to provide insight into the seeming paradox, Iraqi citizen Mustafa Kemal said, "I am sorry?" Kemal responded with confidence, however, when asked whether he is worse off now than before the American invasion. "Yes, yes! I was high paid television producer for Iraqi television channel. Now, my beautiful wife is dead from a Mother Of All Bombs, and I lost my left leg below the knee when large caliber depleted uranium round tore through the door of my Fiat."
Kemal was equally assertive that the war to remove Saddam Hussein was well worth the subsequent hardship. "Yes, yes! Saddam was terrible tyrant. Before the war, Saddam's men arrested my wife and raped her repeatedly with a shepherd's crook. I had no freedom. As a high paid television producer for Iraqi television channel, I was able to bribe them to spare her the red hot kebob skewer, but many were not so lucky. Thank Allah for this war!"
President Bush's response was one of vindication. "I think, as we can all see, our dusky brothers and sisters over there just can't figure it for themselves. That's why we're here, and we're over there, and we're doing it, and we're going to keep doing it -- for those little dirt devils."
Unnamed sources within Gallup have indicated that English may not have been the best language in which to conduct the poll.
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Pero estos bromistas están no solamente sobre la diversión y juegos. Lleve su llamada infame presidente cubano Fidel Castro, por ejemplo. Con solamente sus ingenios sea voces divertidas, Ferrera y Santos podía conseguir Castro en el teléfono por que demandaba ellos era ayudas de dictador venezolano Hugo Chavez. Después de tejer un cuento salvaje sobre una cartera perdida, revelaron sus identidades verdaderas e insultaron Castro. En sus mentes, y en las mentes de muchas de población cubano de Miami's, era postres justos para un hombre culpable de los crímenes lejos peores que llamadas telefónicas del prank.
Pero la FCC no hizo mucho de la manera de reír. En lugar, multaron el dúo dinámico 4.000 (Americano) para poner la llamada en la violación de las pautas que requerían el permiso antes de difundir una voz de los llamadores en el aire. Cuenta de no estos "Wild Men" hacia fuera, aunque. Hacen voto a pagar la multa en 400.000 (Americano) y a entregar el montón del cobre ellos mismos. ¡Cuba Libre, mi asno!
¡Ay, Carumba!
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Tuesday, April 27, 2004
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On one hand, that I'm an adult man, engaged to be married, and working at a job I loathe passionately should remind me that I've aged beyond childish bullying. On the other hand, that I'm an adult man, engaged to be married, and working at a job I loathe is likely why I'm so attracted to the pure joy bullying defenseless ugly or gay teenagers brings.
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Dear Mr. The Spoonbender:
Countless nights have I laid myself bare, literally and figuratively, before your website. The amber moonlight glimmers off the sheen of sweat coating my every tingling curve. And as I read, I allow my hands to explore the every sinew and bulge of my slick skin. The exquisite tension growing, always growing. For once, it is my body that's a wonderland.
Would that I could picture you.
I Remain, Your Fan, The Singer-Songwriter --
John Mayer
So it is for you, Mr. Mayer, that I provide the below picture.
Of course, as my current campaign for class president has received some media attention recently, I figure I might as well put it all out there.
Speaking of which, I have no doubt you've all heard about the slogans my school has chosen to ban. Sure "Queer Guy for Hunt High" is a clever play on the fabulously popular TV series title, and, yes, "Gay Guys Know Everything!" is elegant and to the point. But I have other slogans that, though they've received less media attention, I'm just as proud of.
"Faggotcha!"
"Pick a bottom for the top!"
"54-40 or Kisses!"
"Putting the homo in homeroom."
"Stand Up, Bend Over!"
"My father's shame causes him to drink!"
"Your pink canoe and Tyler's, too!"
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Monday, April 26, 2004
One of the best-loved Mexican traditions is that of the piñata -- a colorful papier mâché animal festooned with crepe paper and filled with candy. The effigy is beaten mericilessly by blindfolded children wielding a bat. When it's ruptured, the candy showers to the ground gloriously to the children's shrieks of delight. The candy is collected and consumed thereafter; the papier mâché husk is discarded.
I used to view the surfeit of candy raining to the ground as a symbol of Mexico's wealth of tradition and its people's joy. Now I know better. With the knowledge that the candy is filled not only with scrumptious honeys and nugats, but with highly poisonous lead, I see it as nothing but evidence of the nation's woeful lack of regulation and outright disdain for children. I imagine the leaden candy thumping heavily to the ground, and I hear the nerve endings of the Mexican children corrode and clog. With their brains addled with lead, these children will never know the joyful kiss of the tequila worm or the spicy taste of a gordita.
Remember, for a moment, Bill the Candyman in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory:
Who can take a sunrise / Sprinkle it in dew / Cover it in chocolate / and a miracle or two?
I recall some of the other instructions from the Candyman -- wrap it in a sigh, soak it in the sun, etc. I don't know about you, Mexico, but I don't remember anything about fill it up with lead.
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Thursday, April 22, 2004
All I'm saying is that she'd better be, 'cause she ain't gonna be modeling anytime soon.
OK. That was unnecessarily cruel. I admit it.
And she's not that ugly a 15-year-old. I mean, I'd do her.
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Wednesday, April 21, 2004
That he refused to stay at the hospital for treatment of the broken cheekbone he suffered in the beating is easier to imagine.
Get well, Shane.
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Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Once again, the American justice system has done the right thing. But a question should remain in the minds of all red-blooded and white-skinned patiots: why would these white-blooded and red-skinned so-called "Indians" object to the examination of a 9000-old-old bag of bones? If the Kennewick Man were so important to their people, why leave it laying on the banks of a river where any drug-addled teenager with time on his hands and some modest excavation equipment could find it?
The answer is simple: These Indians have something to hide, and they're hiding it their supposedly culturally important sacred sites and graves. Their real concern with the Kennewick Man, the ones they only whisper in their most inscrutable pops and clicks, is that scientists will finally be able to prove beyond question that the so-called American Indian is descended from extraterrestrials.
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Monday, April 19, 2004
If exiting the venue normally was any indication of fire evacuation plans, the Logan Square Auditorium is one misplaced cigarette away from becoming the indie rock equivalent of the ovens at Auschwitz.
Will Oldham's performance was significantly weaker than when I saw him during the summer of 1993 at Metro. Perhaps it was because he was joined by a band, including a willowy female back-up singer that seemed passingly familiar with his material and former Zwan guitarist Matt Sweeney. Or maybe it was because a fat girl on ecstasy and her loud friends, also on ecstasy, bumped into me and sang into my ear throughout the performance. I pretend to be neither young nor hip any longer, and I will neither condone nor condemn the use of drugs, but have we come to taking ecstasy at Will Oldham shows? It seems to me an odd choice of venue.
Having read Chicago Reader music man Peter Margasak's preview of opener Joanna Newsom, I was skeptical. Though complementary in the final analysis, he described her as sounding like, "a 12-year-old girl going through a heavy Bjork phase." It's not the most flattering description, to be sure, but it's utterly accurate. Despite that, she held me in thrall throughout her performance. As Margasak suggested, her voice grew on me quickly and her harp playing was, well, good, I guess, since I don't have a basis for comparison. She's also kind of hot, especially when considered in comparison to Will Oldham.
Newsom's Milk-Eyed Mender is for sale. Her love, presumably, is not.
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Friday, April 16, 2004
Despite the shocking news delivered by IAEA chief Mohamed el Baradei that Iraq's nuclear facilities remain unguarded, and that yellowcake uranium -- an ingredient that could be converted for use in nuclear weapons -- is being looted, reporters could not take their eyes off the bandage on El Baradei's head.
El Baradei, pictured above at a press conference, first notified the Coalition Authority of continued looting at nuclear sites three weeks ago. At the same time, El Baradei notified the UN Security Council. According to El Baradei's letter, satellite imagery shows "extensive removal of equipment and in some instances, removal of entire buildings," in Iraq.
But what is that thing on his head? Was he injured, do you think?
The IAEA, or Internation Atomic Energy Agency, monitors issues of nuclear proliferation and safety internationally, and handled pre-invasion inspection of Iraq's suspected nuclear sites. Since the invasion, El Baradei has expressed frustration that the US has cut the agency out of the loop almost entirely.
Maybe he had a mole removed or something. God, that's a huge bandage.
Rather than peppering him with questions following the pronouncement, reporters pretended not to stare at El Baradei's mysterious bandage while they absent-mindedly rubbed their own heads.
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Thursday, April 15, 2004
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Hey there, Mr. Softy. Bet you'd like to get some of this, wouldn't you? Well, I don't know about most women, but I'm not into pushing the goofy, if you know what I mean. I like my cocks hard, so get Levitra. And remember: if I wanted an overcooked piece of linguine in my ass, I'd go to the Olive Garden.
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Suffice it to say, the comments stayed with me.
For months, I've considered... nay, wrestled... nay, grappled with mine own feelings on Mr. Cross. I enjoyed The Mr. Show. I still enjoy it. I enjoy it quite a bit: I own both DVD's, I attended the awful, inaudible Mr. Show Live Tour Performance Event at Chicago's Chicago Theater, and while there I paid $20 for an Indomitable Spirit t-shirt that's never fit me properly. I also own Shut Up Your Cursed Baby, or whatever that album is called. And I really enjoy Arrested Development.
Nonetheless, today I am prepared to agree with whoever that blogger was. I, too, do not like David Cross anymore. He plays a couple of characters well -- one is the variation on James Lipton he's currently putting to use on Arrested Development, the other is Ronnie Dobbs. And he has a beautiful singing voice. Unfortunately, none of these things amuse me very much anymore because I already realize that James Lipton is pretentious, that white trash people are stupid and should be made to be objects of ridicule, and that it's unexpected to hear a beautiful singing voice just when you least expect it.
Furthermore, whoever that person was is right -- Cross' standup isn't funny, or at least the album I own isn't. Have you ever been at a small party and some bombastic guest is standing there, just riffing on whatever, and you want to leave but you can't because the party's too small? Listening to David Cross' Damn Your Child's Eyes album is like that, except without the comedy.
I still feel very positive about Bob Odenkirk, however.
I know what you're thinking: I wish this blog entry weren't so long! Me, too, America. But allow me one further point: Tenacious D is also no longer funny. I feel as bad about this one as you do, but we should just let them all go.
In the stead of Mssrs. Cross, Black, and Gass, I offer you Tom Heinl. While I haven't heard any of his recorded output, I am comfortable vouching for his live performances. They are splendidly awkward, uneven, genuine, endearing, and funny. In short, Tom Heinl is to comedy music as Don Deluise is to buddy movies.
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Excuse me. The Theatre.
Who says theater's a dead art form?
Bingo Boyz Columbine Director Robin Davies sees The Theatre as a nice break from his real job as a Risk Assessor for BankOne.
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Michael Jackson, looking very Top Gun Tom Cruise in a pair of Ray Ban aviators, faces new charges of child abuse.
There's a saying I think is applicable here: Where there's smoke, there's child molestation.
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Tuesday, April 13, 2004
The victory was in no small part due to the "Rough 'n' Ready" ladies of Gamma Phi Beta, no doubt. But today that rough 'n' ready, good to go bravado and passion for giving blood has them in some seriously hot water.
An email to sisters intercepted by the crafty mischief-makers of Tri Lamb reveals that sorority blood donation coordinator Christie "Let It Bleed" Key strong-armed members into giving blood, and encouraged them to lie during the screening process. The email is excerpted below.
I dont (sic) care if you got a tattoo last week LIE. I dont (sic) care if you have a cold. Suck it up. We all do. LIE. Recent peircings (sic)? LIE. We're not messing around. Punishment for not giving blood is going to be quite severe.
Key continued.
Shot up and shared the needle? LIE. I dont (sic) care if it was with a hatian (sic) whore and Gia Carangi. LIE. Even if you and a pledge sister pulled a train of every man in Botswanna (sic) and didn't even think about condoms. LIE. If you do not give blood me and the rest of the sisters will come over to your dorm room in our nightys (sic) and spank and tickle and wrestle you until our laughter becomes moans of saffic (sic) delite (sic) and the nite (sic) becomes dawn.
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L. Ron -- exactly what my fucked up hometown doesn't need.
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Monday, April 12, 2004
I was skimming over Old Hag in search of links to my site and pictures of celebrities reclining in the semi-nude (which are woefully lacking on Old Hag, Old Hag) when I came across this.
Chica goes OFF on The Swan -- which we have, not coicidentally, so far managed to not watch at all whatsoever! The Spoonbender also has a trenchant....
It was at this point that I paused to open a new browser window and look up the meaning of "trenchant." Learning accomplished, I continued.
...assessment for those of you who can't handle big words.
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Friday, April 09, 2004
No. No, there is not.
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Thursday, April 08, 2004
To Cleav or to Skeev?
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From Drag to Drag Queen
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"Starfleet" Wil Wheaton and Marge "Sitcom Me" Cho. F. J. Blueprint uncovers the LiveJournal of one of the gay guys from The Real World. Yay for MTV gays! Yay for us!
Mme. Blueprint also blogs some PETA news, which serves to remind me of the fantastic season two premiere of Penn and Teller's Bullshit!. The subject is PETA, and, in and among a mound of outrageous information, was this nugget: While PETA stages protests of municipal kill shelters (including at the homes of those that run them,) they run a kill shelter out of their DC area headquarters. In 2002 they put down approximately one third of the animals they took in. I don't remember the number, but it was well into the thousands.
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Wednesday, April 07, 2004
What's funny is that this article goes on for some paragraphs, describing the situation in detail, then concludes with the brusque and obvious:
A judge ruled Monday that Thomas will be evaluated by a mental health professional.
DEFENSE: ...and I ask my client's mental health be evaluated...
STATE: Now wait one hot minute. Just because you get mad and do the wrong thing, and maybe pull out somebody's heart just so they can see it while they die, why, that doesn't make you crazy. We've all been there, and the People are pretty darn sure his honor knows what we're gettin' at.
JUDGE: And I do. There's crazy and then there's crazy. Therefore I remand the defendant into custody. Let's just wait and see what he does with his eyes before we go calling anyone crazy.
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And to you, Tiffany: I'm only anonymous until you discover me in your hamper wearing nightvision goggles with a mouthful of socks.
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Tuesday, April 06, 2004
However, I will say without equivocation that the above described cartoon scenario is more funny when the goat uses a racially insensitive term. Not necessarily funny, but more funny.
The editors of Carnegie Mellon's paper, The Tartan, must not be issues people either. They ran the above described cartoon (the more funny version, with the slur) in their April Fool's edition. As you might have guess, the reaction hasn't been great.
Again, I'm not an issues person, but I'm disturbed by the reaction, nonetheless. In the AP story, the edition of The Tartan is also described to contain "poems about rape and mutilation." Surely those are more offensive than a cartoon goat using a racial slur. I mean, poetry is bad enough. Add rape and mutilation to the equation, and you've got a recipe for something really not very funny.
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The Blogfather, or El Jefé, TMFTML game me some love even whilst acknowledging what the street kids might call a "dis."
Of course, I didn't mean to say that he's the East Coast Tiffany. I only meant that smart and bitchy is the east coast's version of the west coast's stupid and vapid.
Bite the nipple I suckle? I never.
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Monday, April 05, 2004
2003 - The Canadian Music Hall Of Fame Inductee
1997 - Best Album Cover: Songs of a Circling Spirit
1992 - Male Vocalist of the Year
1992 - Songwriter of the Year
1992 - Single of the Year: Life Is A Highway
1992 - Album of the Year: Mad Mad World
1989 - Composer of the Year
1987 - Group of the Year: Tom Cochrane and Red Rider
I'll pretend to ignore that they award a Best Album Cover Juno, and move directly to defending myself from accusations of music xenophobia. I'm not saying that Canada produces only subpar acts -- I own more than one Godspeed You Black Emperor! record, the Rufus Wainwright show I attended two months ago was the best I've seen in some time, and my enthusiasm for Rush is well-documented. My beef with the Junos is that non-Canadian acts are excluded from consideration. Maybe awarding homegrown talent is justified in an industry dominated by American and British acts, but when Cochrane's hackneyed metaphor set to sacchrine pop won in 1992, the same year that Nirvana effectively made disfunction mainstream, Canadians must have felt a little silly.
In keeping with the event's minor league mentality, Alanis Morisette sparked what passes for a scandal up there when, while hosting the event last night, she disrobed to reveal a flesh-colored bodysuit adorned with a merkin and painted-on nipples. The "performance" was in protest of America's knee jerk wave of censorship following Janet Jackson's coup d'étit.
While I agree with Alanis' point, I'm much more intrigued by the picture that ran with CNN's article, which highlights Morissette's set.
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Friday, April 02, 2004
Someone used her computer during the time she was missing. Also, [Madison Police] said, the computer had been used to look up a five-day weather forecast and search wooded areas in and around Madison.
Crazy? You might think so. I say crazy would have been spending a couple of days under a log without checking Weather.com first.
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But I digress. Reading this Tiffany Stone reminds me of living in LA the way Christopher Reeves' chair reminds him of all the fun walking was. That is to say, not in a good way. Yesterday a friend told me that he'd made the decision to change his once temporary LA residency status to indefinite (which is how it always goes.) Sensing the disapproval in my silence, he made the argument I've heard millions of times: Just because you live in LA doesn't mean you're one of those LA people.
I don't think Tiffany Stone thinks she's one of those people, either.
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Thursday, April 01, 2004
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For those of you not in on my little prank, I have a friend named Michael Todd Howard, or Mikey, and he loves to fantasize about raping women. I know what you're thinking: Who doesn't? True enough, but my buddy Mikey is much more enthusiastic about the idea of raping women than the average joe. Unfortunately for Mikey, he has oodles of respect for both women and the criminal justice system. It's a classic case of the id's conflict with the superego, and a difficult predicament for mi amigo Mikey.
A difficult predicament, and the perfect setup for a great prank!
I went online and discovered a number of chat rooms in which those with rape fantasies gather and discuss the ins and outs of their hobby. Sometimes women who want to be raped, except not really, and men who'd love to do the raping, except not for real, set up little meetings in which they pretend rape and get raped. I told Mikey where to find these chat rooms, and he was obviously eager to check them out.
I posed as an attractive young woman in the San Diego area eager to be raped. My username was "4sMe_RapeFan7." It wasn't difficult to find Mikey. His username was "RapeApe_1968" -- obviously a reference to the year he was born and his favorite cartoon, Grape Ape. After a few months of online chats and email exchanges, I proposed... or rather, "4sMe_RapeFan7" proposed that we meet for a good old-fashioned raping. Mikey's enthusiasm was obvious, and he quickly agreed. He was like a kid in a rape candy store when I set the time and I gave him the address.
The wrong address!
Mikey got a big surprise when he showed up to rape the wrong person. But rather than tell you what happened, I'll let the article do the talking:
The victim stopped the attack by yelling and attacking Howard's testicles. Howard then asked for the name the victim used in the chat room and she responded by saying she had never visited a chat room and did not have a personal computer.
Gotcha, Mikey!
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