Saturday, December 30, 2006

2007: The Year of Self-improvement

As the New Year approaches, I really want to effect resolutions that will tangibly improve my life and make me a better person. And not run-of-the-mill promises that have become more cliché than call to action, such as "I will lose ten pounds" or "I will stop making obscene gestures at squirrels." No, I want this New Year to truly mark a turning point in my life.

Thus, my resolutions for 2007:

* Publicly, stop being so hypercritical of Alexander's strategic ineptitude at Austerlitz (privately, remain just as outspoken).

* Use more pepper.

* Sort that huge pile of coupons into those that have expired and those that haven't yet expired but are for products I don't use.

* Let it ride at the roulette table; use winnings to prevent Bachman-Turner Overdrive reunion.

* Learn the difference between a calendar and a colander (every time I try to rinse pasta, the paper turns to mush).

* Stop and smell the roses. (Note to self: Will the florist let me do this without purchasing them?)

* Teach myself pinochle, get involved in a weekly pinochle game, stop going after three weeks because they're a bunch of jackasses with no sense of wit, timing, or subtlety!

* Sit in on drums during open-mic night at a jazz club; finish comped martini before I'm thrown out.

* Send Mick Taylor a Hickory Farms gift basket for his superlative work on Sticky Fingers.

* Replace my contact lenses with a pair of monocles.

* Answer all phone calls in my Bullwinkle voice -- if the caller fails to respond in a Rocky J. Squirrel voice, the conversation wasn't meant to be.

* Stop in the shoulder and jot down any phone number and/or e-mail address in each highway billboard I pass -- those people are just trying to help.

* Get the first season of Hee Haw on DVD and fall in love all over again.

* Start conducting my daily life according to my horoscope instead of Chinese fortune cookies -- it's much cheaper and far less fattening.

* Strive for a life of unabashed opulence.

* Fill a footlocker with SpaghettiOs and move as far away from the Yellowstone supervolcano as I can.

* Finish my master's thesis on Shakespearean symbolism in "Othello," the board game.

* Don't take things so seriously.

If I can stick to these resolutions, 2007 is sure to be a very good year...

(Calendar image by Zhuo Meng.)

Thursday, December 28, 2006

Good Lord, Another Remake!

So Hollywood is preparing to churn out yet another film version of a mediocre television show that wasn't very good the first time around yet the public recalls through a rose-colored screen. Hawaii Five-0 takes its turn in 2007. Apart from the hula dancer and the electrifying theme music in the opening credits, Jack Lord's cresting-wave hair, and the "Book 'em, Danno!" catchphrase, little about the show was memorable (unless you're a connoisseur of drippingly cheesy dialogue). Like so many remakes before it, all of your favorite characters will be there, but the film will bear little resemblance to the original program. Hollywood banks on explosions, special effects, and the public's insatiable taste for nostalgia to compensate for its lack of fresh ideas.

Rather than regurgitate those same tired ideas, shake things up. Instead of the Five-0 representing the 50th state, I say let it denote the maximum height of the Honolulu Police Department. Sure, in real life, Jack Lord stood a lanky 6-foot-two (here he can be seen using his immense stature to push down a coconut palm),

but some of Hawaii Five-0's best episodes resulted from Lord uncharacteristically playing the underdog, such as below, in Episode 108, "The Case of the Giant Bathrobed Man."

James MacArthur ("Danno") was a 5'8 pipsqueak anyway, and the rest of the cast -- well, let's just say they never had to bend down to receive a lei. It's time to exploit that angle.

A Five-0-tall Steve McGarrett and his diminutive detectives chasing NBA-sized villains through a Hawaii set built to scale is not what the public expects -- and they'll eat it up.

Again and again.

(Photos copyright CBS.)

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

At Work... Alone...

...Rockin out to Candy by Iggy Pop.

Life is crayyyyyzeeee
Candy babyyyyyy

The nice thing about being at work this week is I pretty much have the bathroom to myself. I can sing as loud as I want in there.

Friday, December 22, 2006

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Misheard Lyrics

Pat was at my place one evening before we went out for the night. I was watching The Dubliners perform "Hand Me Down My Bible" on YouTube. The lyrics to the chorus are:

"Oh Oh Glory-oh!
I'm the Lord's disciple
Oh Oh Glory-oh!
Now hand me down my Bible"

Pat heard this song and said, "Is he saying, 'Oh Oh Gloryhole'?"

If those had been the lyrics, The Dubliners could have been considered trailblazers in writing songs about deviant sexual practices.

The Second Coming?

Keeping in tune with the themes of both Christmas AND dragons:

"CHESTER, England - As Christmas approaches, a virgin mother is anxiously awaiting the arrival of her offspring. She’s Flora, the Komodo dragon.
In an evolutionary twist, Flora has managed to become pregnant all on her own without any male help. It would seem the timing is auspicious: The seven baby Komodo dragons are due this festive season.
'We were blown away when we realized what she’d done,' said Kevin Buley, a reptile expert at Flora’s home at the Chester Zoo in this town in northern England. 'But we certainly won’t be naming any of the hatchlings Jesus.'"

(Excerpt of Associated Press article by Maria Cheng, Copyright 2006.)

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Great Craigslist Ad

"Dragon and String Theory Band - Perfect Side Project

Reply to: xxxxxxxxxx

Are you a musician, maybe playing with a band but want to do something fun for a while? Do you long for the days of Dio. Do you want to only write music about Dragons, Mystical Lands, Time Travel, and possibly String Theory? We do. We are fed up with bands only sort of singing about dragons or alluding to dragons through metaphors. This is going to be an in your face band singing about Dragons from the highest mountain top. We don't care what you play, we probably already have two guitar players, and a synth player. But if you love dragons we won't discriminate we'll be a 12 person band if we have to, and I think the more people the better, that is the only way to really bring the power of the dragon to the stage. We want it to be over the top, we want to wear lots of velvet and leather, write some songs, record them, play some gigs, rock some balls off, and bring the power of the dragon back to the nation's capital."

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Best Christmas Movie of All Time

For my money, the best Christmas movie of all time is 1984's Gremlins. The Gremlins, you see, are a metaphor for American greed and irresponsibility, which is even more prevalent than usual during the Christmas season. The old, wise dude from the Far East warned the hack country singer/actor Hoyt Axton of all the many horrible dangers, yet Axton proceeds anyway with his reckless consumerism.

All he has to do is three simple things, like not get his Gremlin wet, not put him near light, and not feed him after midnight. Simple, right? Except for the fact that the majority of the planet is water, water falls from the sky A LOT, we are the third closest planet to a huge light source called the sun, and isn't it technically ALWAYS after midnight? Seriously, when can you feed them?

Perhaps the best part, however, is after the complete silliness of the Gremlins storming the town, some dressed in drag, some dressed as flashers, Phoebe Cates takes a couple of minutes for a dramatic monologue about her father dressing like Santa Claus, getting stuck in the chimney, and rotting there dead for months. Merry Christmas, everybody

(Photo copyright Warner Bros., 1984.)

Monday, December 18, 2006

"You'll Love the New, Non-Obese You"

A SPAM message I just received. It's really hard to argue with. I think everyone wants to be non-obese.

Yep, Another Dream

I can see this blog quickly becoming a dream-theory blog, but this is a good one involving another contributor to this site. It begins with me going to Boston with Randy and our friend Brendan.

On the way, Randy explains that, for extra money, he has gotten a temp job at the hotel at which we are staying. I nod approvingly but secretly think, "Man, that is a horrible idea." We arrive, and it's in a, should we say, not-so-nice neighborhood. But, we're here and it's time to hit some Irish pubs! Not so fast. Randy is immediately assigned front-desk duty and though he tries to fake his way through it, he double charges us for the room (including himself!) and then doesn't know how to make those keycards for us. So we just sit in the lobby. I say, "I'm going out for a walk." BIG mistake; it is getting dark. On my walk, I encounter a strange group of people who surround me and tell me this bizarre story about being lost and how not to go down to the river (pointing down a shadowy alley that leads to the harbor) because "someone had hurt (them) there; the children ran away screaming."

I am significantly rattled by this and return to the hotel, but Randy and Brendan are gone. A note stating "Drinking" is on the door of my room, which I take to be from them. I go out AGAIN. Now it is pitch black and I am with a larger group of people who look like tourists. A woman (with 5 o'clock shadow) is asking for money through a fence. She starts telling me about people who had approached her and told her not to go near the river. I laugh and say, "Oh, ha, that's a scam! Don't give them any money." Then I fly away. Yes, fly. A recurring "power" of mine in my dreams since childhood is flight. I've figured it out, and no one else has. It's like treading water, where I push off on the air with my legs and stay airborne that way. I really should try this in real life sometime. I think I'll do that now.

EDIT: Just tried. Couldn't fly.

So Cool Your TV Will Melt

Idea for a Science-Fictiony-Type "Show":

Us are the heroes.

These Guys are bad and are always fighting with Us.

These Other Guys are badder than These Guys and will sometimes fight with These Guys or they may just fight with Us. Sometimes These Guys and Us will team up even though they hate each other and fight These Other Guys.

Anyway, the Show will be about what happens when Us finds out that These Guys are builiding an Huge Bomb Thing. What the Huge Bomb Thing does is when it's dropped, it goes BOOOOOSH! That's all that currently known about it.

Both These Other Guys and Us have interest in the Huge Bomb Thing. Us wants to destroy it. These Other Guys want it for their own evil purposes: To get Us and These Guys together and drop it on them.

This Show should be done in Cartoons. This is key. And These Other Guys look like huge blocky robots and they talk in roboty voices... like this:

(robot voice)
Hello. I'm a robot.

Us look like muscley humans and talk normal. These Guys look like giant monkeys with uniforms. These Guys communicate with brain waves, so you hear them talking but their mouths don't move. Maybe their eyebrows move a little so you know which one is talking.

And when the music is playing in the beginning of the Show there should be a huge pile of melting TVs.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Revolutionary Dream

Just woke up from a doozy:

I was George Washington, including tri-cornered hat. (I played him in our second-grade series of plays for the Bicentennial—what a disaster; perhaps more on that later). I was assembling the Continental Army for a march to Trenton to confront the Redcoats. Now, Trenton is approximately 30 miles from here; in reality, I'd be happy to be able to walk to the nearest Wawa. The odds against our rebel army were long, as evidenced by the fact that as I waited for their elevator to reach the ground floor, I could hear them whooping it up inside—not the sound of minds prepared for battle. I had ordered assembly at 8:00; now many minutes past that, I solemnly muttered, "I said eight o'clock..."—they didn't seem to feel any remorse. (Why was I, Commanding General of the Army, muttering?) Another potential problem with my army was that, when they stepped out of the elevator, they were donning red uniforms—the logistical headaches of which I need not elaborate on.

After the army came to attention (there were only about a dozen soldiers, including women, and although now magically dressed in uniforms other than red coats, they looked anything but soldiers), I brandished my sword and began a short but moving speech concerning the dangers of what we were about to undertake. My voice was not my own. At one point, I declared that if anyone wishes to now back out of this rebellion, "I will not think less of him." Instantly, the heavy-set soldier to the extreme right, next to the wall between the pair of elevator doors, passed out, sliding along the wall to the floor. Strange thing is, his quick demise much resembled that of portly, wheezing "Dr. Swanson," the hypnotherapist who falls over dead in Office Space, but he was dressed just like portly, wheezing "Dr. Philipse" from Sleepy Hollow. (Probably just as well—how would he have made a 30-mile march?) Anway, my baritone speech concluded with, "...then let us tell our enemy to get out of our land," and I began leading my troops through the lobby, at which point, I woke up.

Last night, I brought a bottle of wine to the hosts of a Chanukkah party I attended. I'd acquired the bottle at Crossing Vineyards and Winery, which is located in Washington Crossing, PA, approximately a mile from the spot where Washington led his men across the Delaware, en route to attacking the Hessians at Trenton. So that explains the scenario. At the party, we watched several "YouTube" videos, including a comically redone trailer of Office Space, which included the snippet of Dr. Swanson keeling over. Another video was "Ten Things I Hate About Commandments," a re-edited trailer of The Ten Commandments that combined the two films (from the makers of Must Love Jaws). I believe that was the source of my deep voice and final heroic line, much in the spirit of Charlton Heston's "Let my people go!"

What I can't figure out is, where do all of the latkes I ate last night fit in?

Saturday, December 16, 2006

It's A Wonderful Life (Alternate Ending)

Click Here For Video

One of my favorite SNL skits ever—Mr. Potter finally gets his.

George Bailey (Dana Carvey): "'re not even a cripple!"

(Photo copyright NBC, 1986.)

Friday, December 15, 2006

Talkin' Defunct Baseball

Is it me, or does Pat (extreme right of Mount Drinkmore), with his impish grin and curling bangs, resemble the logo of the 1952-53 St. Louis Browns? ('Course, Pat lost his antennae after his 25th birthday, but he still gets KMOX pretty clear.)

(Logo copyright Major League Baseball.)

Nevermind the McSweeney's, Here's Another List

A List of Rejected Book Titles, Some of Which Contain Colons

Australopithecus and Other Words I Find Difficult to Pronounce

The Government Might Be Wrong on a Few Issues

Trout Fishing in the Sahara: How I've Wasted My Life

Chopsticks and Knit Socks: One Man's Pursuit of Sasquatch Across Rhode Island

Don't Bother: The Plot to Assassinate William Henry Harrison

Pork Roll on White Bread with Mayo at 3AM: The Helen Keller Diaries

Kiss Me Like You Mean It: The True Story of the Exxon Valdez

Who's Lying Now?: Oliver North And The Greatest Nap Ever Taken

Hail to the Cheese: Choice Cheeses Loved By US Presidents

Raising Puppies in a Pup Tent: How To Maximize Your Cuteness Dividends

Thunder From the North: Viking Influence on Aboriginal Australia

The Worstest Generation (with Foreword by Leif Garrett)

Murdertown: America's Eighth Deadliest City

CHASMS!: Famous Mounds

Constitution and Chocolate Chip Mint: The Amazing Madisons

Faking Your Own Death: Get In On America's Latest Fad

Mahogany Pigeon: The Story of the Spruce Goose

Napoleon Bonappetit: War as a Culinary Necessity

Say It, Don't Spray It!: The Life of Jimmy Stewart

Won Ton Ton: The Dog That Forged the NFL-AFL Merger

Big Pizza Pie Hit His Eye: Dean Martin's Tomato Sauce Induced Eye Twitching And What You Can Do To Not Be The Next Victim

Fly Me to the Moon: Frank Sinatra's Secret NASA Tryout

Hard to Read: Encrypted Stories You May or May Not Enjoy

If I had a Hamner: The Incredible Story of Granny Hamner and the 1950 Whiz Kids' Meaningless Split-Squad Games in the Preseason

Cash In Big On The Black Market!: A Quick Guide To What Organs You Probably Don't Need

Triassic Park: When Giant Plants Roamed the Earth

It's All Greek to Me: Adding Shopping Cart Wheels to a Coffin

Toga! Toga! Toga! Greece's Role in the Attack on Pearl Harbor

Shhh!: Arimincus and His Graceful Leading By Example Inside the Trojan Horse; Or, The Quietest Soldiers in The History of Mankind

I'm So Cold and Hungry: Paris on Ten Dollars a Day

Quit Your Stalin: Terrible Leader, Terrible Car Troubles

Genghiz Cohen: Meshuggenuh Mongol

Things Ferment: What Not To Add To Your Bath

Surfragette City: When Surfers Finally Got the Vote

"I Thought It Was a Candle": What Dynamite Looks Like

Dark Times: Life in the Age Before Thumbtacks

I Never Promised You a Weed Free Garden: Green Thumb Fraud

I Like Dike: How Holland Claimed Itself From the Sea

Chinless: On Not Being Chinese In Trinidad

Old Man Fjord: Sea Chanties of Norway

Beanie Babies: Obsession and Murder in Suburbia

Chad: The African Country Named After a White Guy

I've Had Your Wife: The Man Who Has Slept With Every Woman On Earth and, Surprise!-- He Was Born Without Feet

Tin Canada: A Steamy, Lusty Look at Canada's Mining History

See You In 55 Days!: Perhaps It's Time To Revisit the Idea of Taking a Rowboat to Europe

EEEEEE E. EEEEEEE: An Everyday Man's Life in the Land Which Banned 25 Letters of the Alphabet

Howdy, Saudi: The Texas-Mideast Oil Trade and How It Affects You (Yes, You!)

Creatine A Monster: Mark McGwire and His Post-Baseball Insatiable Thirst for Living Flesh

Can Conjoined Twins Run for President and Other Constitutional Conundrums

They Grow 'Em Big in Texas: A Walking Tour of the Pacific Ocean

Waiting for Godzilla: Existentialism in Low-Budget Japanese Monster Flicks

Raising Arizona: What If We Put Arizona on a Platform?

Alas, Alaska: Why Alaskan Girls' Love Is Always Unrequited

Smilla's Sense of Shellfish

Smilance of the Lambs: Don't Let Your Sheep Graze in Poppy Fields

Every Little Thing Bing Does Is Magic: Sting on Bing (ghost-written by The Addams' Family's Thing)

Mookie Blaylock and the Moog Organ: Sound Strange? It Sure Does

The J-23 Noskoyev-Ilushykin Dog Sled: Cadillac of the Siberian Tundra

Tommy Tune: A Big, Fat Loudmouth

Dad, Can I Have the Dirigible?: What If the Airship Had Caught On?

Devil With a Blue Dress: A Look at Cross-Dressing in the Underworld

Mount Drinkmore, © 2006

Cowboys Spend 1 Billion Dollars to Build.......the Same Stadium

Why don't they just spend the money on my pec implants?

(Photo copyright Dallas Cowboys, 2006.)

Diamonds Are Forever...But YOU Aren't

This time of year, there are nothing but diamonds commercials speaking about how they last forever and such. But what the commercials don't tell you is the dirty little secret that you are not forever and the diamond will surely be toasting to your demise on a beach somewhere in the Bahamas, living off of your Social Security checks.


So, I am in NYC, going to a recording session. I am also supposed to pick up a car I had left there, but I am driving another one, so I am not sure how I am going to get both back. I come out of the session and the car I came with is gone. The scenario with me picking up the old car seems to be abandoned by this point, for some reason. Are you following? I have no car. Anyway, I go down a side street and into a row home, where there are some people I apparently know. They are making me uncomforable, so I decide to leave. As I am leaving, they say, "Oh, you woke up baby Danny!" and I look down into a playpen where there is an old woman crying like a baby and speaking in a little boy's voice. I am horrified but slip out, acting cool about it.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Where's Rich??

Had to start a post on this. Without Rich's observations on these topics, I am afraid our souls will never rest.

Stern used to play audio of this

Gotta be careful when stompin grapes!

Copyright Fox 5

Prince To Do Super Bowl Halftime Show

I'm not sure his soft falsettos will contrast well with the 300-lb men beating the crap out of each other.

The Lost Room

Anybody been watching this miniseries? It's about this guy who finds a key that, when inserted to any door, opens to a hotel room where something horrible happened in 1961. You can then leave the room to go to any destination on Earth you want to. If you put something in the room, shut the door, and use the key to open it again, the room "resets" itself and the item disappears. I think the series could become about waste removal. Think of the money you could make on that!

(Photo copyright The Sci-Fi Channel, 2006.)

Dead Serious About Fittin' Shoes!

"In the late 1940's and early 1950's, the shoe-fitting x-ray unit was a common shoe store sales promotion device and nearly all stores had one. It was estimated that there were 10,000 of these devices in use. " - Museum of Questionable Medical Devices

Amazing. Thousands of little kids getting their feet blasted with x-rays just to see if the shoes momma was buying fit right. This thing had 3 viewing ports: one for the salesman, one for the person having his feet irradiated, and one for an interested spectator.

A Strange Bathroom Encounter

So I'm washing up after doing my thing, and another guy comes out of a stall and stands by the sink adjusting his belt. I look at him. He looks at me. Then he says, "I forgot to flush," and runs back into the which point I decide I've overstayed my welcome.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006


This was on the other day. It's from the 80s, and Wilford Brimley still looks old as hell and miserable. Was this guy ever NOT old? Something's up with him.

Better Holiday Party

I think the company holiday party would be better if there were games involved...

Bobbing for Crabs
Spitting Contest
Christmas Techno Food Fight
Insult Your Boss
Table Stacking
Bar Stool Baseball

... you know, make it like Thunderdome.