This Blog Smells Funny

Dennis Haysbert has a stranglehold on reality

2008-07-03T21:14:00.000-07:00

http://www.usatoday.com/news/politics/election2008/2008-07-01-haysbert-obama_N.htm

"If anything, my portrayal of David Palmer, I think, may have helped open the eyes of the American people," said the actor, who has contributed $2,300 to the Illinois Democrat's presidential campaign.

"And I mean the American people from across the board — from the poorest to the richest, every color and creed, every religious base — to prove the possibility there could be an African-American president, a female president, any type of president that puts the people first," he said Tuesday.

next up, Tiny Lister speaks about how his role as the first black Galactic President paves the way for future black Galactic Presidents

jesus jumping christ just make this motherfucker an obama rosary already and get it over with

$2300 IS LIKE A FUCKING BURGER COMBO IN HOLLYWOOD

Ho at Liquor Sto Crams Hooch in Cooch

2008-04-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

Talk about a Dirty Martini:

God bless Google ads

2008-04-03T02:06:00.000-07:00

A while back, I decided that I might be able to get some beer and smokes money by placing Google ads on my other blog. The fact that I've only made something like a buck and change, due to the fact that nobody gives a damn about my abject poverty isn't why I'm mentioning this. But you're all a bunch of bastards for ignoring my needs. Really.

The reason I'm posting this here, besides the fact that the good folks at Google told me that the content of my other blog would determine what ads showed up there, is the fact that this is pure, unadultarated comedy gold:

Damn. You've gotta love teh internets.

I love it when we're cruisin' together

2008-03-13T22:53:00.000-07:00

I'm guessing Jose is the one with the facial hair.

(Via CraigC.)

So, did she Spitzer swallow?

2008-03-11T18:41:00.000-07:00

I've been holding onto that one all day long.

I know, I know, probably should've kept holding onto it.

Well, that's really the only joke I have about the whole "I'm gonna bust up all the whoring around except for, you know, when I wanna do it - and hey, you're not recording this, are you?" Eliot Spitzer deal. I don't even know that much about it. Except that I thought it was pretty funny when it popped into my head earlier. In my defense, I was breathing a lot of paint fumes. Today was my day off.

I don't think I'd ever pay for a hooker. I'd keep thinking about all the DVDs and video games I could've bought instead, and the whole thing would turn out a lot like those games at Wal-Mart where you get the prize almost to the top and then it falls out of the claw but you can still see it on top of the prize pile, laughing at you. And then the Price Is Right fail music plays.

Five thousand dollars. A $5000 hooker better drive me around like Miss Daisy for at least six months. And bathe me. And fix my truck. And do my shopping. And cook. Besides all the constant sex.

I guess what I'm really trying to say here is that I'm never getting married.

St. Patrick's Day is coming!

2008-03-10T01:35:00.000-07:00

And, really, what better way to say, "Slap A Restraining Order On Me, I'm Irish," than with one of these, er, treats? That special someone in whose bushes you've been lurking will be...charmed, I'm sure.

The best part is that the next day, you can just blame it on the fact that you were drunk off your ass!

Suggested Pen Names for the Aspiring Stripper-Screenwriter

2008-03-03T06:18:00.000-08:00

Now that Diablo Cody's all over the damned place lately, I got to thinking about other names strippers with a story to tell (and doesn't every stripper have a story to tell?) can use, to maybe do a little coattail-riding and hopefully write themselves away from a life of bacteria-coated dollar bills being crammed into the ass crack of their thongs while being vomited on by middle-aged alcoholic businessmen. If you've got the talent, maybe you could have those bacteria-coated dollar bills crammed into the ass crack of your thong while being vomited on by middle-aged alcoholic Hollywood Producers!

Diablo Cody is a badass stripper-turned-author name. You need a badass stripper-turned-author name which reminds people of Diablo Cody and all that Juno money, so you can maybe score a direct-to-dvd gig which Blockbuster will place on the shelf next to Juno in the hopes that stupid people will rent it without realizing the difference.

Feel free to use any of these stripper names in the byline of your next heartfelt screenplay about a quirky girl getting into trouble and becoming a woman too fast:

Purgatory Porscha

Mephistopheles Montana

Lucifer Lapdance

Dusty Diabolique

Bambi Belial

Her Satanic Majesty Taffy

Houston Hellish

Tiffany, Princess of Darkness

Whisper Wormwood

Beelzebubbles

Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments.

The candyman can cause he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good...

2008-03-03T05:27:00.000-08:00

Who can take a sunrise?

Sprinkle it in dew?

Cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?

...

Yeah.

That link? On the border of not being safe for work. Hint: Chocolate Party Hats.

I don't really have any other jokes for this. Do I really need any?

Another Berkeley story

2007-12-07T01:40:00.000-08:00

My previous Berkeley story can be found here. Stick with this all the way through for a twist ending. You won't be sorry.

Let us hearken back to a more innocent time. Namely, August of 1994. That was when I left the SoCal roost of my parents' home and headed north to the Bay Area with my clothes, my CD collection, a newish computer, and a hot pot, to move into the dorms in Berkeley. My folks helped me to move into a newly renovated dorm room, and then I was anxious to see them out of town so I could begin experiencing college.

Now, the first week there, before classes start, is called "Welcome Week," and it's primarily meant to help the impressionable freshmen to acclimate to life in the dorm system. The residential staff tell the wet-behind-the-ears newbies about how the dining halls work, offer to take them on fun-filled excursions around the campus and the SF Bay area at large (avoiding Oakland, for the most part), and explain the rules for living in the dorms. The latter included stern lectures about how drugs and drinking would not be tolerated inside the dorms. Well, drinking would be, but only if you were 21 or older. And not many of us were.

Did that deter us? Of course not! The word was that one night, a guy named Alonzo was going to have a bash in his room with plenty of booze, and about forty or so kids showed up, myself included. I don't really know where Alonzo got all his liquor (the rumor was that his dad had provided it) but we got a nice party going. I was chatting up a good-looking girl when there was a knock at the door.

Now, since we were stupid kids, we hadn't figured that about forty people in a room that was supposed to accommodate two would draw the attention of the Resident Assistants (RAs), but it did. And one of them, Jeff, was at the door. Alonzo got everyone to hide their drinks, and when Jeff came in to shoot the shit, we thought everything was cool, since he didn't ask us if there was any alcohol in the room. Some of us (myself included) had even engaged Jeff in conversation. Which, having been drinking lightweights at the time, was a bad idea, in retrospect.

But Jeff left, and the drinks came out again, and the party continued. The good-looking girl moved on to talk to another dude, who later became one of my best friends, and I continued drinking. Although I was a little bitter about having the hottie distracted by some jerk, I was still having a good time.

That's when there was another knock on the door.

Alonzo went to the door again, looked through the peephole, and told everyone that Jeff had returned with another RA, Bill, who seemed less cool than Jeff. Everyone hid their booze again, and the RAs were let into the room.

Bill took charge, saying that he knew there was drinking going on in the room, and that the party would have to be broken up before he called the Fire Marshal, who would come down on us hard if we refused to disperse. Bill and Jeff took down the names of all the students who left the room, checking their student IDs.

Later, there were hearings about whether or not people were drinking alcohol at the party, and I learned a valuable lesson from those hearings. I'd always been told that "honesty is the best policy," but I found out that was a bunch of crap. You see, I was one of five people out of the huge group who admitted to drinking that night, and the rest got off scot-free. The five of us who did the right (stupid, in retrospect) thing were forced to put on a "Substance-free program," which ultimately consisted of renting a tape of "Bright Lights, Big City," showing it in the lounge, and telling the people who showed up (many of whom had sports bottles full of vodka) that drugs and alcohol were bad.

I'm sure you're wondering what the hell you've been reading this for, since it's a story about a bunch of eighteen-year-old idiots getting drunk in a dorm room. Well, like Paul Harvey's listeners, you're about to hear "the rest of the story." For, you see, Jeff, the Resident Assistant who first came to check on the party was this guy.

I shit thee not. But he never did his famous dance for us, so we were kind of gypped.

This blog smells dead

2007-12-02T19:09:00.000-08:00

But isn't. It's just resting.

I'll see about getting the paddles out and giving it a jump sometime this week.

Turkey Bones and Rotten Pumpkins

2007-12-01T10:05:00.000-08:00

How was your Thanksgiving? Select one from these two possible responses to your answer:

1. Good, I'm glad to hear it. It's always nice to INSERT ACTIVITY HERE over the holidays.

2. Aw, man, that sucks. Well, hope you have a better INSERT NON-OFFENSIVE YEAR-END HOLIDAY HERE.

Mine? I tried watching a little bit of the Macy's parade in HD, because everything is better in HD, but the Macy's parade in HD is high-resolution boring. And, as befitting my cave-dwelling clan, Thanksgiving dinner was appropriately filled with an unnecessary amount of old-timey vaudeville melodramatics.

Turkeytime Drama

My brother called the Wednesday night before Turkey Day, and told my Mom he and his wife were coming in for the spread. My Mom knew he might be coming, so this was just a confirmation call. She hadn't mentioned the possibility of my brother and his wife joining us for Thanksgiving to my Dad earlier for two reasons:

1. My Dad doesn't like my brother and his wife.
2. My Dad is a butthole.

Oh, it's true. I've told you funny stories about my Dad before, but don't let that fool you. He isn't very funny 95% of the time, and I keep most of those stories to myself.

Now, my brother is really my half-brother. His father, my Mom's first husband, was an Italian guy named Frank who worked for the police in New York. He was very nice the couple of times I met him. He passed away several years ago, from brain cancer. My brother is 20 years older than me, so he was grown and gone before my Dad married my Mom. So they've never been close.

The reason my Dad gives for disliking my brother is this: A few years ago, my brother and his then-girlfriend stayed overnight with them, and spent the evening on a pull-out bed in the living room. My Dad thinks he busted them screwing in the living room when he got up to get something to drink. Apparently he has something against premarital sex - or most likely sex in general, because his own organ hasn't been much more than a vessel for urine in several decades. My brother swears they weren't, and I believe him for two reasons:

1. He has no real reason to lie about it. Why would you screw your girlfriend in an open living room where anyone could walk in on you? He's not stupid.

2. My Dad is a butthole.

All of this is also terribly funny to me for two reasons:

1. I have probably fornicated in that house more than anyone else who's ever been inside it, including my folks. I was never caught, because like my brother, I am not stupid. I came close to getting busted a few times, though.

2. My Dad is a butthole. I have had many up-close and personal encounters with this buttholery. The unpredictability of his buttholery, which flares up at the slightest hint of a perceived offense, ends up making a him very predictable person, if you can dig that. He's always going to do the opposite of what a normal, rational human being would do. I find it hilarious, now that I am grown and away.

What I don't find hilarious is the way my Mom worries over stuff like that.

Anyway, according to my Mom, he flew into a conniption fit over the announcement, declaring that THANKSGIVING WAS RUINED, and storming out of the house before my brother and his wife ever got there. The whole time they were visiting he stayed outside working on his car, and then drove off for several hours, returning a few minutes after they left (he must've driven by the house a hundred times).

This reaction was unsurprising to me, but it bothered the hell out of my Mom. She really believes that people can always change their ways and eventually do the right thing, no matter how often they've disproven that theory in the past. She's pretty naive. I know different. I know that some people can evolve and grow, and I've always been a fairly forgiving person willing to give many "second chances," but...I always keep in mind that once something is deep-rooted inside a person, once a particular belief or way of thinking or behaving has fully sunken its teeth into the base of their brain, then they're lost. There's no point in wasting any more time on them, even if I end up wasting that time anyway. I've seen it firsthand, many times. It's never been a shock to be shocked by it when it eventually happens.

My brother didn't give a shit. He's a pretty laid-back guy. His wife thought it was funny, so both of us cracked some jokes about it. I pointed out that he wouldn't have been very good company had he chosen to join us, anyway. More turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce and deviled eggs and sweet potato casserole for me. His loss.

So my brother, his wife, and myself had a great time visiting for a few hours, talking about movies and computers and video games and such. My Mom kept going on about how my Dad didn't understand that she had another son, and I finally got a little snappy with her after telling her not to worry about it for the 1500th time. To worry about it is to give him a victory, I told her, because he expects a reaction when he does this kind of thing, so the best course is always apathy when it comes to him. I get along with him okay nowadays, but it's the same kind of "get along" you might have with a co-worker.

Later that weekend when I stopped by, my Mom told me he never touched any of the leftovers, going out for fast food instead. Deep-rooted.

I've been thinking about it a lot, lately. They're getting on up there in years, both at 77, so I have to think about it even though I don't really want to. I've decided that if she goes first, I'll ease on over there after the funeral and gather up whatever I think belongs to me, and ease on out the door with it, and he'll never see me again. I won't even go to his funeral, nor will I participate in any arrangements. Apathy, complete and total. He's a wash, as far as I am concerned - and not because of anything he ever said or did to me, dig?

I was looking through some personals ads the other day, as I often do when I want to be an asshole and laugh about the ridiculous shit other lonely people write out of desperation, and I saw that on one of the ads the woman listed "a close family" as one of the strict requirements she expected to be met by any potential mate/date - or "Mr. Right," as she put it. I noticed this requirement on several other ads, as well.

This made me laugh, for two reasons:

1. It's a really unfair requirement to make. It's not my fault I have a shitty family. I did nothing to cause that. Alcohol and pure meanness caused that. I have a kind-hearted Mom, though, so I have half a close family. That doesn't count, evidently. Apparently we all have to take communal baths together or something.

2. My Dad is a butthole.

More leftover stuffing from me later.

This blog is in the Twilight Zone

2007-11-08T03:05:00.000-08:00

Now, I can read whatever I want to read! Like this blog.

[bends down to read blog, glasses fall and break]

It's not fair! There was time! Time to read This Blog Smells Funny!

[cue ironic Rod Serling voice over]

...in the joke-less zone.

Last-Minute Halloween Costume Ideas, Part 2

2007-10-30T20:29:00.000-07:00

1. JAME GUMB FROM SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

What you will need:

A dirty blond wig
Lipstick
Eye Shadow
Eye Liner
A pair of flesh-colored or beige/tan panties
A fake goatee
A red kimono
A nonpermanent marker
glue
Basket
Lotion
slippers

What you will NOT need:

A sense of shame

Directions:

Make your face up tramp-style and put on the wig. Glue the fake goatee to the front of the flesh-colored or beige/tan panties. When the glue is dry, put the panties on - now it looks like you're tucking without actually having to tuck. Remain shirtless and pantless. Draw a small tattoo on your side, if you wish. Put your slippers on. Talk like you have a hairlip, and ask everyone if they would fuck you, because you would fuck you. You would fuck you hard. Put the fucking lotion in the basket, and carry it around. Bonus points if you carry around a small audio player and dance to "Goodbye Horses."

2. LINDA BLAIR FROM THE EXORCIST

What you will need:

Nightgown with a distinct front
slippers
green makeup
grey makeup
white makeup
baby powder or colorless foundation
eyeliner
can of split pea soup
thermos or container for soup
cross
Bra
something to pad bra with
Hair gel

Directions:

If you're a woman, tape down your boobs or wear something which flattens them to your chest. Stuff the bra, and put it on with the boob cups on your back -backwards, in other words. Put the gown on backwards, as well. See, now it sort of looks like your head is spun around. I know, I know, but this is low-budget, remember? Take the green makeup and mix a bit of the grey and white with it, and apply to face and neck. Take some of the grey makeup and accentuate your eye sockets, making sure to feather the edges. Take a bit of the white makeup and line your lips with it, and then take the eyeliner and draw "cracks" on your lips. Dust it all down with a slight amount of the Baby powder or foundation powder. Put the hair gel in your hair and string it out. Put the soup in the container, and at random points during the evening when no one is looking take a mouthful and mock-projectile-vomit it out. Carry the cross - it's up to you whether you fake masturbating with it or say the lines. If you want to go to Hell, go for it.

3. Tobias Fünke FROM ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT

What you will need:

Blue makeup (lots and lots of it)
Mustache (or something to draw a mustache with, like an eyeliner pencil)
Daisy Duke cut-off jeans with the pockets hanging out
thin-rimmed glasses
Boots
Colorless foundation powder

This works best if you are bald, but if you aren't just slick your hair down and back and apply the blue makeup over it. Cover yourself with the blue makeup, and dust it all down with the powder. If you have no mustache, draw one with the eyeliner. Put your jeans on, and make sure the pockets are hanging out. Put your glasses and your boots on. Tell everyone that you're afraid you just blue yourself.

Copy, paste, and print this picture out in multiples on cardstock, cut them out business-card-size, and pass them out to whomever you meet:

Back tomorrow with more Halloween memories, and (hopefully) my second Halloween Special podcast. Don't forget to download my first Halloween Special Podcast!

Last-Minute Halloween Costume Ideas, Part 1

2007-10-30T09:27:00.000-07:00

For all you procrastinating dudes.

This first batch of last-minute costume ideas is for the fellas, and revolves around having a dark suit, white dress shirt, and black tie.

1. LEX LUTHOR

Are you bald? Are you going bald? Are your follicles fleeing the scene of the crime? Well, Halloween is the perfect opportunity to kick that shit in gear and razor that hairy horsehoe off the back and sides of your head. You also get a cool, cheap Halloween costume out of it.

What you will need:

A black or dark dress suit
White dress shirt
Black tie
Black or dark dress shoes
Razor and shaving cream
Medium-sized rock
Flourescent or glow-in-the dark Green spray paint

Directions:

1. Spray rock with flourescent green spraypaint. Allow drying time. Recoat if necessary.
2. Shave head. Do it in a hot shower, and take your time.
3. Put some shaving lotion or skin conditioner on your head.
4. Put your suit on.
5. Walk around carrying the flourescent or glow-in-the-dark green rock.
6. Congratulations, you're Lex Luthor with a Kryptonite rock. If you can pair up with someone dressed as Superman, even better.

2. JOHNNY MO FROM KILL BILL

I went as this guy in 2004.

What you will need:

Black suit, white shirt, black tie, black dress shoes
Razor and shaving cream
Domino or Kato mask (you can find these just about anywhere for a buck)
Toy samurai or ninja sword

Directions:

Shave your head, dress, put mask on, walk around waving the sword and screaming random Japanese-sounding crap. When I did it in 2004, there was a girl at a nightclub dressed as The Bride, and we would scream shit at each other across the club.

3. THE INVISIBLE MAN

A classy costume for very little investment. You don't even have to shave your head for this one.

What you will need:

Dark suit, white shirt, dress shoes
White gloves
White scarf
Wide medical gauze
Dark sunglasses
Black greasepaint pen or black makeup

Directions:

Wrap your head and neck carefully with the gauze, making sure that you leave space for your eyes and nose. Attach the ends with some glue, or medical tape, and make sure they're secure so it won't start to unravel fifteen minutes after you get to the party. Take the makeup or greasepaint pen and dab the black on any exposed skin for a neat effect (from far away it will look like empty space). Dress in your suit, and wrap the scarf around your neck ascot-style. Put your white gloves and the glasses on. Looks pretty cool. Start talking like an invisible insane person.

4. MR. BAKED POTATO HEAD

I just think this would be pretty funny.

What you will need:

Suit, tie, shirt, dress shoes
Aluminum Foil
White makeup
Yellow makeup
Red makeup
Green makeup
Baby powder or colorless foundation powder
White gloves (optional)

Directions:

Lay a base of white all over your face and neck. Dust lightly with the powder to prevent smearing on your clothes. Take the yellow makeup and color your nose (that's the pat of butter). Take the red makeup and, using a tiny brush or a cotton swab, draw bacon bit shapes sprinkled around your face. Take the green makeup and draw tiny curls here and there (those are the chives). Dust VERY lightly over the designs. Take the aluminum foil and make yourself a hat or hood, or just wrap it over your head and form an exposed pocket where your face is. Put your suit and gloves on.

If you want to get nuts with it, I suppose you could actually stick bacon bits and chives to your face with spirit gum, but they probably wouldn't last very long. You'd smell delicious, though.

Back later with more last-minute costume ideas.

Don't forget to download my Halloween Special Podcast!

Halloween 1978 - KISS Meets The Coward in the Car

2007-10-17T17:53:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, October 28 1978, my Mom took me to a "Haunted" house here in Wilmington. We rode with her friend Dixie, and Dixie's daughter (I can't remember her name). Dixie's daughter was a couple of years older than me. I remember how poised and graceful she was, for such a young girl - my Mom said she was classy. Me? Ha, at nine years of age, I was perhaps best known for staring out the back window of the car and making faces at the drivers behind us on long family trips. One group even followed us into a gas station and asked my folks to make me stop, as I had been doing it for almost an hour while they were trapped behind us on some back roads leading to Greenville NC (and no, I'm not making that up - ask my Mom, she was mortified beyond words, and I wasn't allowed to even turn around the rest of the way there, or on the entire return trip).

So we pulled into this place, and they'd turned the front yard into a cemetery. It looked pretty real to me, although I suppose it was cobbled together from cardboard and styrofoam for the headstones (the undead don't give a crap about chloro-fluorocarbons), paint for the engravings and cracks, and pulled cotton for the black widow webs. There were barrels with fires inside, giving the wooded area a horror movie styled flicker. A gate with skulls (probably fake, but who knows, life was cheap in the Disco era) on each of the two post tops led the way to the front porch, which was illuminated by a single red light bulb. A cloaked figure stood by the door, taking the money (hey, even Charon demanded an obolus). All the windows were boarded up, but you could see snatches of light spilling through here and there.

There were unearthly sounds coming from those windows which made the hair on the back of my nine-year-old unwashed neck stand up. Dixie's daughter remained unaffected.

We started walking from the parking area up to the gate when I heard the screaming. From around the back corner of the house, getting louder and closer. A person ran from that corner, looking behind at something. His shirt was torn and splattered with the realest blood there ever was, no matter that real blood isn't ever that red, in my mind it was real and it was leaking from any number of wounds on that person's body.

Then, the killer. A hulking figure wearing overalls and a mask appeared, stalking the screamer. My memory is clouded, and each time I think back the weapon in his hands changes - an axe, a pitchfork, a sledgehammer, a chainsaw. Halloween the movie wasn't that well-known yet, and Jason Voorhees was still a ways off, so I hadn't been jaded into relating something like this to one of those movie monsters - maybe it was supposed to be a Leatherface. I can't remember the mask or the weapon. Doesn't really matter - what matters is that I really believed I was about to see a person being murdered.

He ran past us and warned "Run for your lives!!!!"

Which is exactly what I did. I didn't so much run as I did fly, my feet never disturbing the gravel on the path back to the car. The doors were unlocked, but before my little ass hit the vinyl on the seat they were all latched securely. The killer and the screamer ran off into the woods, presumably to circle back behind the house for their next performance a few minutes later.

My Mom, Dixie, and her daugher came back around and tried to convince me to go on inside the haunted house, but I'd decided I'd had quite enough Halloween. Dixie's daughter even offered to hold my hand so I wouldn't be so scared (I probably should've married her when I grew up), but I just shook my head and kept the doors locked.

You know, for someone who loves Halloween, I sure have been a pretty big pussy about it over the years.

***

So, once they'd all finished touring the haunted house (less than fifteen minutes, if I remember correctly, and they told me nothing inside was as scary as the screamer on the outside), I ended up at home in front of the TV just in time for KISS Meets That Guy Who Looks Like He Could Be Jack Nicholson's Brother. Which is where I'd wanted to be in the first place.

Words can't even begin to describe how terrible KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park is. And by "terrible," I mean "the greatest made-for-television movie ever made." It was the best Halloween I ever had up to that point, and by the time the opening credits were over I'd forgotten all about my pussyosity earlier in the evening.

I was going to do a long recap and poke a lot of fun at it, but I'd really just be poking fun at myself, because I was all about KISS when I was between the ages of 7 and 9. I was in their Army, at least in spirit. I had a Paul Stanley action figure. I had all the comics. I had most of their albums, which always came with cool shit like posters or booklets or temporary tattoos. I had a T-shirt with their logo in gold glitter, which my Mom accidentally ironed on the shirt upside-down but I wore anyway. I can't poke fun at that. Well, I could, but my jokes will never be as intentionally funny as the movie was unintentionally hilarious.

Besides, thanks to the godliness of Youtube, I'll just let you see for yourself (this isn't a complete version, but it's pretty close, and it's all in order).

Rip, rip, rip and destroy, break it down and seal your fate:

So very, very wrong

2007-10-14T23:30:00.000-07:00

From Talkshow with Spike Feresten.

Two great tastes, together at last!

2007-10-12T01:46:00.000-07:00

Do you love lolcats? Do you love Lovecraft? If you answered yes to both (and I know you did), I give you...LOLTHULHU!

(H/T: maggie.)

Traveled down the road and back again...

2007-10-05T20:59:00.000-07:00

Before you click this link, ask yourself: "How brave am I, really? Are there sights which cannot be unseen? Can I live with night terrors for the rest of my life? If I go blind in one eye, will the other eye grow stronger to compensate? How will I ever be able to face my children again? Those veins, so many, are they a cryptic roadmap of the highways leading to Hell? If I do not click this link, am I a pussy?"

The answer to that last question is: Yes, yes you are.

Click it. Don't be a pussy. Thank you for being a friend.

Random WTF Ads From Olden Times

2007-10-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

click to enlarge

Tote-Em-In Zoo (Tregembo Animal Park)

2007-10-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite childhood memories is watching the roadside elephant in front of the zoo as my parents drove past.

The elephant's name was Matteau, but everyone called him Jumbo (after the more famous elephant from Barnum's Circus named Jumbo). He'd wave his trunk side-to-side, up and down, take peanuts from you, and sometimes pat you on the head with that trunk.

We lived two miles from the Zoo, and Carolina Beach Road was (and is) the main highway leading towards Wilmington proper, so I saw him a lot. A couple of years before he died, in 1991, he started to get a little mean and withdrawn. He knew he wasn't supposed to be there anymore, that it had been a nice visit, that he'd enjoyed meeting and playing with all the kids over the years, but he had to be somewhere else when he died. He was drawn home, but he couldn't ever go back, and I think it finally dawned on him just how trapped he was.

I don't know how I feel about zoos when I think about stuff like that.

It's called Tregembo Animal Park nowadays. It's been around for over 50 years. If you're ever in the Wilmington area and you feel the urge to watch a bunch of monkeys jerk off, it's eight bucks for adults, six bucks for kids. Click the photos to go to flickr and see them larger, or to view the whole set.

Wide shot of Tregembo Animal Park (formerly Tote-Em-In Zoo). Taken from across the highway while standing in the bed of my truck.

Black and White shot of the front

This is the spot where Matteau the Elephant used to draw in customers from the roadside. Matteau died in 1991. He used to wave at you as you passed, and he'd take peanuts from you if you stopped to say hello. Seems so empty now.

Black and White close shot of the Lion's Head entrance

Sometimes the kids in my neighborhood would walk all the way down there as a group and pay for tickets. Sometimes we got in for free, because the fellow running the reptile part of it (a guy named Jerry Brewer) lived in the neighborhood. My Dad was friends (drinking buddies) with his brother. He'd always bring home some crazy animal and let it loose in his yard. I remember he brought one of those lizards that run on two legs and display the frill around their heads home one weekend, and we had a blast chasing that thing all over his fenced-in backyard. That thing moved like liquid lightning, none of us could catch it.

I don't know if they still have it, but they had a snake pit at one time, this large mass of writhing animals in a concrete building, and Jerry would give lectures while standing in the middle of it, picking up snakes to show off while he was talking. He'd milk a venomous snake, taking questions and dispelling snake myths. He dressed sort of like Jim from Wild Kingdom.

Once, when I was a little kid, a wild boar somehow got away from the zoo for few days, and managed to make its way through the woods (there were a lot of woods back then, not so much now) all the way down to where we lived. My Dad noticed him in the woods behind our home, and threw out a bunch of scraps to keep him occupied. Then he lured him into a temporary rope trap he'd made and called the Tote-Em-In people to come get it. As the two knuckleheads they sent were trying to load the boar into their truck, they took the rope off the animal prematurely, and he got away again. It was another week before they caught him and took him back.

Lady cleaning out the front of the Lion's Head entrance to Tregembo Animal Park. It looks like she's brushing that tooth.

Two ladies eyeing me suspiciously from the Lion's Head entrance. I don't blame them - after all, I was a dude standing in my truck bed across the highway taking pictures.

I might spring for the eight bucks and take some pictures of the animals inside someday. I dunno. Like I said, I sometimes don't know how I feel about zoos.

Meeting the Mayor of Crazytown

2007-09-30T23:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, there are drawbacks to being an ordinary, decent human being.

F'rinstance, let's say you want to go out to have a few drinks and a good time with some friends. So you go to a bar and sit down to the right of a perfect stranger who, without warning, begins to rave and gibber at you about how everyone's out to get her, how her plate of ribs was too expensive ("Thirteen bucks! Can you believe that? I don't have that kind of money!"), how her husband is a stupid fat lying jerk keeping her from her children, how her roommate (a Dutch-Indonesian "bulldyge") called her a whore and wants to kick her ass for no apparent reason, how she was once a "Hollywood actress" and was going to get back into acting if her stupid fat lying jerk husband wasn't sabotaging things, how she just got a job as a schoolteacher, how she spent all day in the hot sun selling flowers on the street (the schoolteacher job doesn't provide enough cash for ribs and beer, apparently), how she's smarter than everyone, how beautiful her son is but she doesn't have any pictures because her stupid fat lying jerk husband put them in storage and made her pay for the rent, how beautiful she still is at 45 ("Did I tell you I was 45?"), etc. until you want to take her by the shoulders, shake her as hard as you possibly can, and scream at the top of your lungs, "LISTEN HERE, LADY: YOUR HUSBAND DIDN'T KICK YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE AND GET A RESTRAINING ORDER AGAINST YOU BECAUSE HE'S JUST A BIG, STUPID JERK! HE DID THAT BECAUSE YOU'RE A BUG-EYED, BATSHIT CRAZY FUCKING BITCH! YOU. ARE. INSANE! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! SHUT THE HELL UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!"

But instead, you simply smile a wan little smile, nod at her, and say things like, "Oh, really?" and, "Ah, I see," or, "Is that so?" Because you're an ordinary, decent human being.

God, it sucks to be an ordinary, decent human being sometimes.

My Halloweens Were Sometimes Like Rob Zombie's*

2007-09-29T15:08:00.000-07:00

PART ONE

As everyone knows or doesn't know, Halloween is my favorite day out of the year. I love everything about it - the costumes, the candy (well, most of it), the decorations, the music, the horror movies, the slight chill in the air (unless Mother Nature NC decides to shit all over my Halloween experience and makes it too warm), the piles of Jack O'Lantern pumpkins they sell out front of that church on College Road. I smile all day long on Halloween, even if I don't have plans and end up just lying on the couch (see: last two years).

The only thing that could make Halloween better is if they found a way to combine it with Christmas (walking around the Wall-Mark today, I see that the Wal-Mart scientific wizards are attempting this very thing, at least as far as intermingling decorations on store shelves goes). Can you imagine how cool a vampire or werewolf or zombie Santa would be? I could imagine that. I'm imagining that right now.

"Be sure and leave a plate of brains and intestines by the fireplace for Santa, Tommy. You don't want him coming into your room when you're asleep and he's hungry."

Anyway, this month is pretty much going to be Halloween Month here at TBIFOW. I'll be remembering some past Halloween experiences, both good and bad, and talking about other Halloween-related stuff. Hopefully people will post in the comments and share their own Halloween stories as this goes along, because I like reading that stuff.

So, I'll start at the beginning, my earliest Halloween memory, which just happens to be the worst costume I ever wore:

"Hello, I'm Kevin. I'm a human being with the poorly-proportioned head of a shark, and a picture of myself about to eat a naked girl on my shirt. Although I have eyes on the sides of my face, I actually see through two holes in my mouth. I can survive out of water, but not without candy, so make with the trick or treat bucket and let's rock."

Yeah, I was Jaws. If you haven't guessed by now, I am sort of fixated on that movie. Regardless of the fact that the movie f*cked my shit up all Summer long, and freaked me right the hell out in front of a bunch of elderly black fishermen, I wanted that costume. I think I may have been disappointed that there was no little Quint hanging out of the mouth of the mask when I got it.

The ebay listing I found one of the above pictures on (I bid on it, by the way, but I wasn't going to pay more than $20 for it and it's already at $21) states that it was produced in 1975, so I would have been six. A six year old shark cruising for candy in the neighborhood ocean of Myrtle Grove Road.

I remember two things about that mask. See those eyeholes? Well, they were sharp around the edges. In fact, the whole mask was nothing but sharp edges. I think the Collegeville Costume people were a bunch of sadists who secretly wanted to disfigure the children of America, because I cut myself a couple of times on that mask. Basically, the shark kept biting my face. My Mom wanted me to stop wearing it, but I pitched a fit over how stupid the costume would look without the mask, so she took some tape or something and softened up the edges around the eyeholes.

The second thing that I remember is that it was hot. No breathing holes that I can recall, and if there were they weren't providing adequate ventilation, so five minutes with that thing over your mug and you were a sweaty mess with a muffled out-of-breath voice.

I wore it two places. Trick or treating, of course, where just about everyone made variations on the following comment to my Mom:

"Children shouldn't wear things like that. That's too adult for a child. Why didn't you dress him up as a ghost or Frankenstein or something nice?"

There were a bunch of busybody old people in the neighborhood back then. I didn't care, because I still got the candy, and I don't think my Mom cared much either because it was none of their f*cking business what she dressed me up as. Did I ever tell you how much I love my Mom? Well, a lot.

The other place I wore it led to my second public freak-out of 1975.

There was a "Haunted House" at the elementary school that year, and my Mom took me there. That's something going the way of the Dodo at schools, right along with Christmas celebrations. Nice job raising your kids to all be as bland and generic and inoffensive as possible, America. The "Haunted House" was the auditorium stage area dressed up with curtains and cobwebs and blacklights and fake smoke and spaghetti guts and peeled grape eyeballs in bowls and older kids dressed up as monsters. We were waiting in line, me with the Jaws mask resting on top of my head (I had given up on never taking it off after smelling my own hot breath reflected back at me all evening), and I noticed a kid wearing a Flash (DC comic book superhero whose power is running at the speed of light, for those normal human beings out there) costume, homemade. It was awesome, a head-to-toe outfit his Mom had sewn for him. I was still debating whether or not Jaws could eat the Flash when we went inside.

I was okay through most of it, put my mask back on, imaginary shark fin on my back breaking through the water, hunting swimmers, and then some kid dressed as a vampire folded his cape over me and scratched the back of my neck with a pin or something, and I nearly sh!t myself.

I couldn't stop screaming. I don't know why, I guess the combination of my imagination and the shark mask and not paying attention to what was going on all combined to catch me at the right moment and I let rip. A shrieking shark. After a few seconds my Mom lifted up my mask and clamped a hand over my mouth, then led me quickly through the rest of the tour, and the second I got outside I was fine. The kid playing the vampire came out and apologized to my Mom, but she told him not to worry about it. She asked me what made me carry on like that, but I had no explanation. I wasn't even really that scared during the whole thing - I just couldn't stop screaming once I'd started.

Yeah, Jaws and me flipping out seem to go together like Peanut Butter and Jelly. Or Pam Beesly and Jim.

*they sucked. Boy, did Rob Zombie ever not get what made Halloween cool.

First Zombies, Now Renegade Ninja Chicks

2007-09-25T06:04:00.000-07:00

First THIS HAPPENS, and now Ninja Chicks are robbing gas stations. The world is either turning into a video game, or a Golan-Globus movie from 1985.

I love the astute observation from Police Chief Robert Amann at the end:

"Those, uh, swords, uh, daggers, uh, whatever they may have been carrying, they can be used to seriously harm our victim, so, uh, it's a very serious crime."

Thanks, Columbo!

Podcasting: Now the Whole World Can Hear You Mouthbreathe

2007-09-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

So we're trying to do a freakStomp podcast.

I went out and bought a book, Podcasting For Dummies, which ought to have the words WHY DID YOU BUY THIS $16 BOOK WHEN ALL THIS INFORMATION IS AVAILABLE FREE ON THE INTERNET YOU F*CKTARD at the top of every page next to the page number.

I also bought the cheapest USB headset I could find, for the most passable sound quality I could get without spending any actual money.

I also downloaded the freeware program Audacity for sound editing.

I also scoured every "How-to Podcast" site I could find for information.

The one thing I forgot to buy or download during all this was some KNOW WHAT THE F*CK YOU'RE DOING.

I post on this video game message board, the only board I really ever post on regularly. It's a small community, friendly, not much douchebaggery to speak of. They'd been talking about making a podcast off and on for a while now. So I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone: I could set up a podcast with some of the forum members, and that would allow me to practice recording and editing so I'd be tech hip when we got around to recording the freakStomp podcast, and it would also give the video game guys the podcast they desired.

Simple. Ha. Ha.

A couple of people suggested I look into something called Ventrilo, which is a chat program people use while playing PC video games (most games do not support in-game voice chat). I wanted to use Skype, since it's simple, but everyone said Skype sucks, so I ruled it out.

I set up this "ready to go" ventrilo server through an online service for $32 for the entire year, ten "talk slots" available at once. That means ten people could conference chat at one time.

I figured I'd just set up Ventrilo and record a chat session for editing practice.

Simple. Ha. Ha.

The first thing I found out is that Audacity can't record from two sources at once. It would only record from my mic, or what I was hearing through my headset, but never both at the same time. I'd need a second sound card to do that. Ventrilo has a built-in recording function, but it saves the recorded chat session as something called a "VRF" file, and there are no file converters for that format. So I had to take that VRF file, play it back, and record it in Audacity while it was playing. Basically, I had to record the session twice.

There were other problems. The sound was a bit laggy, so there was a lot of overlap. Some of the people were using desk mics, and those hiss and pop and generally sound like sh!t. A USB headset is a must, because mine came through crystal clear according to everyone listening. USB = Digital, therefore no analog hiss.

Then I somehow messed up my settings in Audacity and couldn't record anything but my mic no matter what I did. So I spent most of early Sunday trying to figure out what I had screwed up and fix that.

Then I checked into some of the podcast message boards, and found out that most people use Skype to record conference calls. Which is what I wanted to use to begin with, but everyone had said Skype sucks, and I had made the mistake of listening to everyone. The Video Game Show (a podcast I regularly listen to) uses Skype, and it sounds all right to me. There are a ton of easy-to-use programs out there to record Skype calls.

The other alternative? Well, everyone would have to download Audacity, record their end of the conversation through their mics as we chatted on Ventrilo, and then send me the files afterwards, where I would have to mix and sync five or more separate vocal tracks together. Which would take me approximately two years to do.

F*ck. A. Bunch. Of. That. Noise.

So we'll have to go with Skype, and will probably have to settle for sound quality that isn't anywhere near studio-level. And I paid for a ventrilo server that will just sit there, unless we turn it into some sort of free freakStomp chat room for our friends. Since there's only two of us doing the freakStomp podcast, I could maybe do the mixing for two recorded vocal tracks, but I don't think I could handle any more than that.

Unless someone out there knows a better way to do it which doesn't involve actual money, and can clue me in.

I need to reiterate how completely worthless Podcasting for Dummies is if you're doing a cast with more than one person. Save your money if that's the case.

Kneel before Zod!

2007-09-24T12:55:00.000-07:00

At last! A presidential candidate worthy of my obeisance.

General Zod 2008

I especially like that he's thought of the children. From his Kids Page:

Fun with math
1. Mommy and Daddy did not give General Zod all of their worldly possessions, so they were sentenced to 5000 days in prison. How many years is this? (Hint: There are 365 days in a year)
2. Non drops a man from a height of 20,000 feet. If the man falls at 200 feet per second, how many seconds will it take for him to hit the ground?
3. An uprising occurs in a city with 100,000 people and one percent of them are jailed. If 100 people can be re-educated in one month, how long will it take before everybody is free again?
4. If a country's gross national product (the value of all the goods and services it produces) is $100 million and all of it is given in tribute to General Zod, how much interest will General Zod make in one year if General Zod sets a 60% interest rate?
5. If each person on the Planet Houston knows five informants, and it takes ten minutes to relay a report, how quickly will General Zod learn about his picture being defaced in a town of 500 people?