Saturday, March 26, 2005
Native Americana
I am out back sitting on my screened in porch, enjoying the twilight, the lovely gloaming of birds and early stars, while living the "wired" dream of a wireless internet cloud of the CONTROL CENTER. Alliterate that, biotch. But wait, what's that I hear? "Wooo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo." Some alien bird from South America that shits fire ants? "Wooo woo woo woo woo woo woo woo." NO! It's some stupid fucking kid playing Indian. Have these kids just finished watching an episode of the Lone Ranger or Wild Wild West and are now in the backyard GETTING INTO IT? Is there seriously shit on TV now where a Native American hoots while slapping his hand over his spooled mouth? Who knows, maybe the Illini "Chief" stopped in for a visit -- you know, just for a quick "HOW" and a hatchet dance. It's been a long while since I've excavated my PC Police Uniform from the closet, and I am not about to do so now. I am simply wondering, WHERE DO 9 YEAR OLD KIDS GET THIS??? And what's so great about playing Indian anyway? You mean to tell me that the last 50, nay, 150, nay, 400 YEARS of popular culture has produced no better a childhood villain that the RED MAN?
Friday, March 25, 2005
Music Lessons
1.) Didja Know that the song by Sly & the Family Stone, FAMILY AFFAIR, is actually ABOUT a Family AFFAIR, bro & sis??? Is this like a "different Dads" sorta thing or a straight-up tale of incest in the Ovidian fashion? Heck, I just thought it was a song about how families can be "families," the usual stuff -- you know, Mom being weird (again), Dad trucking off on spontaneous head-clearing errands, "Who ate all the AYDS diet candy?!", &c. Sure helps to know the lyrics!
2.) The end "horn" bits in Soundgarden's "Room a Thousand Years Wide" is THE SAME as the horniness at the end of The Doors' "Touch Me Baby (Can't You See That I am Not Afraid)." Which leads me to my real point: I am fascinated by song titles with parens which complete the Lyric: "Little Red Corvette (Baby you're much too fast)," though I just made that up, since I can't think of any examples from Culture Club.
Help me folks, What's your favorite Song title with a Parenthetical????????? And come on, I want you to GET INTO IT!!!!
2.) The end "horn" bits in Soundgarden's "Room a Thousand Years Wide" is THE SAME as the horniness at the end of The Doors' "Touch Me Baby (Can't You See That I am Not Afraid)." Which leads me to my real point: I am fascinated by song titles with parens which complete the Lyric: "Little Red Corvette (Baby you're much too fast)," though I just made that up, since I can't think of any examples from Culture Club.
Help me folks, What's your favorite Song title with a Parenthetical????????? And come on, I want you to GET INTO IT!!!!
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
The Meaning of Biohazard
It ain't a SHARK or some persistently unproven Giant Squid half-eaten by said Shark, but it's BIG and it's a PIG and it's the REAL DEAL yo.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Gwen Stefanie be UGLY!
"Oh she’s SO HOT!" Fuck you. Did you see her on SNL last night? She looked like that singing frog with proboscis lips in Return of the Jedi, or at least she dances in high heels like said creature, before George Lucas of course "remastered" the beast by making it all CGI and cartoony. Maybe George can give suburban Stefanie a make-over, too. ANYTHING. She ain’t no hoochie mamma by association, definitely not when she holds her arm out in the "Jump, Jump, Jump" gesture, which has now been found to be gay. Bust your browser with this photo, for instance. The idea and pose is "hot," but the effect is my ass with lipstick.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Assphorisms
Assphorisms
Wig to the lid of legs.
Book ends
and other deads.
A sorry thing
should be covered with cellophane.
Wax on deficiency,
Wax off.
One leg of television,
one arm of chair,
one bolt of rug,
for a Frankenstein family room.
Mandibles meet
on the pastures of your butt.
Capable of apples.
Creme corduroys
give me the essence
of oreo legs.
Wig to the lid of legs.
Book ends
and other deads.
A sorry thing
should be covered with cellophane.
Wax on deficiency,
Wax off.
One leg of television,
one arm of chair,
one bolt of rug,
for a Frankenstein family room.
Mandibles meet
on the pastures of your butt.
Capable of apples.
Creme corduroys
give me the essence
of oreo legs.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Stand Up for Shitting
SURVIVOR was awesome tonight, even though technically it was awesome last Thursday, when it actually aired. But who cares? Ok, first they do a reward challenge where they BUILD a fucking BATHROOM. I love "construction." And I love BATHROOMS, as much as do the Japanese, who sell commodes that weigh your ass and check your blood pressure. Whether they know as well as I do that a rounder ben-jo offers more sworling downward thrust than an ellipitical one is another issue. But I know one thing the Japanese don't: Republicans and rightwingers care far more about shitting than Democrats and left wingers. You mean to tell me there's no left leaning individual who will stand up for shitting? And then for the immunity challenge ... get this: An OCTOGON style brawl, during which "the gay" kicked the redneck's ass twice with a nasty ass pillow. What's more, then I got to see that Ultimate Fighter show on the "guy network." What's it called? Zap, or Stick, or .... hold on, I honestly can't remember the name of that goddamned network. Pride? Zip? Why am I thinking there's a "z" in the name? Ignite? Shark? Attack? SPIKE!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Saturday, March 05, 2005
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